Gout and the Gravel, and the kindred Ailments of Age, this Account of my
Life would never reach beyond the record of Boyhood. For from the first
Flower of my freshest childhood to the time that I became toward the
more serious Business of the World, I think I could set down Day by Day,
and well-nigh Hour by Hour, all the things that have occurred to me. How
is it that I preserve so keen a Remembrance of a little lad's joys and
sorrows, when I can scarcely recall how many times I have suffered
Shipwreck in later age, or tell how many Sansfoy Miscreants, caring
neither for Heaven or man a Point, I have slain? Nay, from what cause
does it proceed that I, upon whom the broken reliques of my
Schoolmaster's former Cruelty are yet Green, and who can conjure up all
the events that bore upon my Running away into Charlwood Chase, even to
the doggish names of the Blacks, their ribald talk, and the fleering of
the Women they had about them, find it sore travail to remember what I
had for dinner yesterday, what friends I conversed with, what Tavern I
supped at, what news I read in the Gazette? But 'tis the knowledge of
that overweening Craving to count up the trivial Things of my Youth that
warns me to use despatch, even if the chronicle of my after doings be
but a short summary or sketch of so many Perils by Land and Sea. And for
this manner of the remotest things being the more distinct and dilated
upon, let me put it to a Man of keen vision, if whirling along a High
Road in a rapid carriage, he has not marked, first, that the Palings
and Milestones close by have passed beneath him in a confused and
jarring swiftness; next, that the Trees, Hedges, &c., of the middle-plan
(as the limners call it) have moved slower and with more Deliberation,
yet somewhat Fitfully, and encroaching on each other's outlines; whereas
the extreme distance in Clouds, Mountains, far-off Hillsides, and the
like, have seemed remote, indeed, but stationary, clear, and
unchangeable; so that you could count the fissures in the hoar rocks,
and the very sheep still feeding on the smooth slopes, even as they fed
fifty years ago? And who (let his later life have been ever so
fortunate) does not preferably dwell on that sharp prospect so clearly
yet so light looming through the Long Avenue of years?
It was not, I will frankly admit, a very righteous beginning to a young
life to be hail-fellow well-met with a Gang of Deerstealers, and to go
careering about the King's Forest in quest of Venison which belonged to
the Crown. Often have I felt remorseful for so having wronged his
Majesty (whom Heaven preserve for the safety of these distraught
kingdoms); but what was I, an' it please you, to do? Little Boy Jack was
just Little Boy Beggar; and for want of proper Training he became Little
Boy Thief. Not that I ever pilfered aught. I was no Candle-snuffer
filcher, and, save in the matter of Fat Bucks, the rest of our gang
were, indeed, passing honest. Part of the Venison we killed (mostly with
a larger kind of Bird-Bolt, or Arbalist Crossbow, for through fear of
the keepers we used as little powder and ball as possible) we ate for
our Sustenance; for rogues must eat and drink as well as other folks.
The greater portion, however, was discreetly conveyed, in carts covered
over with garden-stuff, to the market-towns of Uxbridge, Windsor, and
Reading, and sold, under the coat-tail as we called it, to Higglers who
were in our secret. Sometimes our Merchandise was taken right into
London, where we found a good Market with the Fishmongers dwelling about
Lincoln's Inn, and who, as they did considerable traffic with the
Nobility and Gentry, of whom they took Park Venison, giving them Fish in
exchange, were not likely to be suspected of unlawful dealings, or at
least were able to make a colourable pretext of Honest Trade to such
Constables and Market Conners who had a right to question them about
their barterings. From the Fishmongers we took sometimes money and
sometimes rich apparel--the cast-off clothes, indeed, of the Nobility,
birthday suits or the like, which were not good enough for the Players
of Drury Lane and Lincoln's Inn, forsooth, to strut about in on their
tragedy-boards, and which they had therefore bestowed upon their
domestics to sell. For our Blacks loved to quit their bewrayed apparel
at supper-time, and to dress themselves as bravely as when I first
tasted their ill-gotten meat at the Stag o' Tyne. From the Higglers too,
we would as willingly take Wine, Strong Waters, and Tobacco, in exchange
for our fat and lean, as money; for the Currency of the Realm was then
most wofully clipped and defaced, and our Brethren had a wholesome
avoidance of meddling with Bank Bills. When, from time to time, one of
us ventured to a Market-town, well made-up as a decent Yeoman or
Merchant's Rider, 'twas always payment on the Nail and in sounding money
for the reckoning. We ran no scores, and paid in no paper.
It was long ere I found out that the Wagon in which I had travelled from
the Hercules' Pillars, to be delivered over to Gnawbit, was conducted by
one of the most trusted Confederates of our Company; that he took
Venison to town for them, and brought them back the Account in specie or
needments as they required. And although I am loth to think that the
pretty Servant Maid was altogether deceiving me when she told me she was
going to see her Grandmother, I fancy that she knew Charlwood Chase, and
the gentry that inhabited it, as well as she knew the Pewterer in Panyer
Alley. He went a-pewtering no more, if ever he had been 'prentice or
done journeywork for that trade, but was neither more nor less than one
of the Blacks, and Mistress Slyboots, his Flame, kept him company.
Although I hope, I am sure, that they were Married by the Chaplain; for,
rough as I am, I had ever a Hatred of Unlawful Passions, and when I am
summoned on a Jury, always listen to the King's Proclamation against
Vice and Immorality with much gusto and savour.
I stayed with the Blacks in Charlwood Chase until I grew to be a sturdy
lad of twelve years of age. I went out with them and followed their
naughty courses, and have stricken down many a fat Buck in my time. Ours
was the most jovial but the most perilous of lives. The Keepers were
always on our track; and sometimes the Sheriff would call out the Posse
Comitatis, and he and half the beef-fed tenant-farmers of the
country-side would come horsing and hoofing it about the glades to catch
us. For weeks together in each year we dared not keep our rendezvous at
the Stag, but were fain to hide in Brakes and Hollow Trees, listening to
the pursuit as it grew hot and heavy around us; and often with no better
Victuals than Pig's-meat and Ditch-water. But then the search would
begin to lag; and two or three of the great Squires round about being
well terrified by letters written in a liquid designed to counterfeit
Blood, with a great Skull and Cross-bones scrawled at the bottom, the
whole signed "Captain Night," and telling them that if they dared to
meddle with the Blacks their Lives should pay for it, we were left quiet
for a season, and could return to our Haunt, there to feast and carouse
according to custom. Nor am I slow to believe that some of the tolerance
we met with was due to our being known to the County Gentry as stanch
Tories, and as stanch detesters of the House of Hanover (I speak, of
course, of my companions, for I was of years too tender to have any
politics). We never killed a Deer but on the nearest tree some one of us
out with his Jack-knife and carved on the bark of it, "Slain by King
James's order;" or, if there were no time for so long a legend, or the
Beast was stricken in the Open, a simple K. J. (which the Hanover Rats
understood well enough, whether cut in the trunk or the turf) sufficed.
The Country Gentlemen were then of a very furious way of thinking
concerning the rights of the present Illustrious House to the Throne;
but Times do alter, and so likewise do Men's Thoughts and Opinions, and
I dare swear there is no Brunswicker or Church of England man more leal
at this present writing than John Dangerous.
Captain Night, to whom I was a kind of Page or Henchman, used me with
much tenderness. Whenever at supper the tongues grew too loosened, and
wild talk, and of the wickedese, began to jingle among the bottles and
glasses, he would bid me Withdraw, and go keep company for a time with
Mistress Slyboots. Captain Night was a man of parts and even of letters;
and I often wondered why he, who seemed so well fitted to Shine even
among the Great, should pass his time among Rogues, and take the thing
that was not his. He was often absent from us for many days, sometimes
for nigh a month; and would return sunburnt and travel-stained, as
though he had been journeying in Foreign Parts. He was always very
thoughtful and reserved after these Gaddings about; and Mistress
Slyboots, the Maid, used to say that he was in Love, and had been
playing the gallant to some fine Madam. But I thought otherwise: for at
this season it was his custom to bring back a Valise full to the very
brim of letters and papers, the which he would take Days to read and
re-read, noting and seemingly copying some, but burning the greater
portion. At this season he would refrain from joining the Gang, and
honourably forswore his share of their plunder, always giving Mother
Drum a broad piece for each night's Supper, Bottle, and Bed. But when
his pressing business was over, no man was keener in the chase, or
brought down the quarry so skilfully as Captain Night. He loved to have
me with him, to talk to and Question me; and it was one day, after I had
told him that the Initial letter D was the only clue to my Grandmother's
name, which I had seen graven on her Coffin-plate, he must needs tell me
that if she were Madam (or rather Lady) D----, I must needs, as a
Kinsman, be D---- too, and that he would piece out the name, and call me
Dangerous. So that I was Little Boy Jack no more, and John Dangerous I
have been from that day to this. Not but what my Ancestry and Belongings
might warrant me in assuming another title, than which--so far as
lineage counts--Bourbon or Nassau could not rank much higher. But the
name of Dangerous has pleased me alway; it has stood me in stead in many
a hard pass, and I am content to abide by it now that my locks are gray,
and the walls of this my battered old tenement are crumbling into
decay.
'Twas I alone that was privileged to stay with Captain Night when he was
doing Secretary's work among his papers; for, save when Mistress
Slyboots came up to him--discreetly tapping at the door first, you may
be sure--with a cup of ale and a toast, he would abide no other company.
And on such days I wore not my Black Disguisement, but the better
clothes he had provided for me,--a little Riding Suit of red drugget,
silver-laced, and a cock to my hat like a Military Officer,--and felt
myself as grand as you please. I never dared speak to him until he spoke
to me; but used to sit quietly enough sharpening bolts or twisting
bowstrings, or cleaning his Pistols, or furbishing up his Hanger and
Belt, or suchlike boyish pastime-labour. He was careful to burn every
paper that he Discarded after taking it from the Valise; but once, and
once only, a scrap remained unconsumed on the hearth, the which, with my
ape-like curiosity of half-a-score summers, I must needs spell over,
although I got small good therefrom. 'Twas but the top of a letter, and
all the writing I could make out ran,
"St. Germains, August the twelfth.
"MY DEAR" ...
and here it broke off, and baffled me.
Whenever Captain Night went a hunting, I attended upon him; but when he
was away, I was confided to the care of Jowler, who, albeit much given
to babble in his liquor, was about the most discreet (the Chaplain
always excepted) among the Gang. In the dead season, when Venison was
not to be had, or was nothing worth for the Market if it had been
killed, we lived mostly on dried meats and cured salmon; the first
prepared by Mother Drum and her maid, the last furnished us by our good
friends and Chapmen the Fishmongers about Lincoln's Inn. And during this
same Dead Season, I am glad to say that my Master did not suffer me to
remain idle; but, besides taking some pains in tutoring me himself,
moved our Chaplain, all of whose humane letters had not been washed out
by burnt Brandy or fumed out by Tobacco (to the use of which he was
immoderately given), to put me through a course of daily instruction. I
had had some Latin beaten into me by Gnawbit, when he had nothing of
more moment to bestir himself about, and had attained a decent
proficiency in reading and writing. Under the Chaplain of the Blacks,
who swore at me grievously, but never, under the direst forbidding, laid
finger on me, I became a current scholar enough of my own tongue, with
just such a little smattering of the Latin as helped me at a pinch in
some of the Secret Dealings of my later career. But Salt Water has done
its work upon my Lily's Grammar; and although I yield to no man in the
Faculty of saying what I mean, ay, and of writing it down in good plain
English ('tis true that of your nominatives and genitives and stuff, I
know nothing), I question if I could tell you the Latin for a pair of
riding-boots.
There was a paltry parcel of books at the Stag o' Tyne, and these I read
over and over again at my leisure. There was a History of the
Persecutions undergone by the Quakers, and Bishop Sprat's Narrative of
the Conspiracy of Blackhead and the others against him. There was Foxe's
Martyrs, and God's Revenge against Murder (a very grim tome), and Mr.
Daniel Defoe's Life of Moll Flanders, and Colonel Jack. These, with two
or three Play-books, and a Novel of Mrs. Aphra Behn (very scurrilous), a
few Ballads, and some ridiculous Chap-books about Knights and Fairies
and Dragons, made up the tattered and torn library of our house in
Charlwood Chase. 'Twas good enough, you may say, for a nest of
Deerstealers. Well, there might have been a worse one; but these, I can
aver, with English and Foreign newspapers and letters, and my Bible in
later life, have been all the reading that John Dangerous can boast of.
Which makes me so mad against your fine Scholars and Scribblers, who,
because they can turn verse and make Te-to-tum into Greek, must needs
sneer at me at the Coffee House, and make a butt of an honest man who
has been from one end of the world to the other, and has fought his way
through it to Fortune and Honour.
I was in the twelfth year of my age, when a great change overtook me in
my career. Moved, as it would seem, to exceeding Anger and implacable
Disgust by the carryings-on of Captain Night and his merry men in
Charlwood Chase, the King's Ministers put forth a Proclamation against
us, promising heavy Blood Money to any who would deliver us, or any one
member of the Gang, into the hands of Authority. This Proclamation came
at first to little. There was no sending a troop of horse into the
Chase, and the husbandmen of the country-side were too good Friends of
ours to play the Judas. We were not Highway Robbers. Not one of our band
had ever taken to or been taken from the Road. Rascals of the Cartouche
and Macheath kidney we Disdained. We were neither Foot-pads nor
Cut-purses, nay, nor Smugglers nor Rick-burners. We were only
Unfortunate Gentlemen, who much did need, and who had suffered much for
our politics and our religion, and had no other means of earning a
livelihood than by killing the King's Deer. Those peasants whom we came
across Feared us, indeed, as they would the very Fiend, but bore us no
malice; for we always treated them with civility, and not rarely gave
them the Umbles and other inferior parts of the Deer, against their poor
Christenings and Lyings-in. And through these means, and some small
money presents our Captain would make to their wives and callow brats,
it came to pass that Mother Drum had seldom cause to brew aught but the
smallest beer, for morning Drinking; for though we had to pay for our
Wine and Ardent Drinks, the cellar of the Stag o' Tyne was always
handsomely furnished with barrels of strong ale, which Lobbin Clout or
Colin Mayfly, the Hind or the Plough-churl, would bring us secretly by
night in their Wains for gratitude. I know not where they got the malt
from, but there was narrow a fault to find with the Brew. I recollect
its savour now with a sweet tooth, condemned as I am to the inky
Hog's-wash which the Londoners call Porter; and indeed it is fit for
Porters to drink, but not for Gentlemen. These Peasants used to tremble
all over with terror when they came to the Stag o' Tyne; but they were
always hospitably made welcome, and sent away with full gizzards, ay,
and with full heads too, and by potions to which the louts were but
little used.
We had no fear of treachery from these Chawbacons, but we had Enemies in
the Chase nevertheless. Here dwelt a vagabond tribe of Bastard Verderers
and Charcoal-burners, savage, ignorant, brutish Wretches, as
superstitious as the Manilla Creoles. They were one-half gipsies, and
one half, or perhaps a quarter, trade-fallen whippers-in and keepers
that had been stripped of their livery. They picked up their sorry crust
by burning of charcoal, and carting of dead wood to farmers for to
consume in their ingles. Now and again, when any of the Quality came to
hunt in the Chase, the Head Keeper would make use of a score or so of
them as beaters and rabble-prickers of the game; but nine months out of
the twelve they rather starved than lived. These Charcoal-burners hated
us Blacks, first, because in our sable disguise we rather imitated their
own Beastly appearance--for the varlets never washed from Candlemas to
Shrovetide; next, because we were Gentlemen; and lastly, because we
would not suffer them to catch Deer for themselves in pitfalls and
springes. Nay, a True Gentleman Black meeting a "Coaley," as we called
the charcoal fellows, with so much as a hare, a rabbit, or a pheasant
with him, let alone venison, would ofttimes give him a sackful of sore
bones to carry as well as a game-bag. No "Coaley" was ever let to slake
his thirst at the Stag o' Tyne. The poor wretches had a miserable hovel
of an inn to their own part on the western outskirts of the Chase, a
place by the sign of the Hand and Hatchet, where they ate their
rye-bread and drank their sour Clink, when they could muster coppers
enough for a twopenny carouse.
This Proclamation, of which at first we made light, was speedily
followed by a real live Act of Parliament, which is yet, I have been
told, Law, and is known as the "Black Act."[M] The most dreadful
punishments were denounced against us by the Houses of Lords and
Commons, and the Blood Money was doubled. One of the most noted
Thief-takers of that day--almost as great a one as Jonathan Wild--comes
down post, and sets up his Standard at Reading, as though he had been
King William on the banks of the Boyne. With him he brings a mangy Rout
of Constables and Bailiff's Followers, and other kennel-ranging
vagabonds; and now nothing must serve him but to beg of the Commanding
Officer at Windsor (my Lord Treherne) for a loan of two companies of the
Foot Guards, who, nothing loth for field-sport and extra pay, were
placed, with their captain and all--more shame for a Gentleman to mix in
such Hangman's work!--under Mr. Thief-taker's orders. He and his
Bandogs, ay, and his Grenadiers, might have hunted us through Charlwood
Chase until Doomsday but for the treachery of the "Coaleys." 'Twas one
of their number,--named, or rather nicknamed, "the Beau," because he
washed his face on Sunday, and was therefore held to be of the first
fashion,--who earned eighty pounds by revealing the hour when the whole
Gang of Blacks might be pounced upon at the Stag o' Tyne. The infamous
wretch goes to Aylesbury,--for our part of the Chase was in the county
of Bucks,--and my Thief-taking gentleman from Reading meets him--a
pretty couple; and he makes oath before Mr. Justice Cribfee (who should
have set him in the Stocks, or delivered him over to the Beadle for a
vagrant); and after a fine to-do of Sheriff's business and swearing in
of special constables, the end of it was, that a whole Rout of them,
Sheriff, Javelin-men, and Headboroughs and all, with the Grenadiers at
their back, came upon us unawares one moonlight night as we were merrily
supping at the Stag.
'Twas no use showing Fight perhaps, for we were undermanned, some of us
being away on the scent, for we suspected some foul play. The constables
and other clod-hopping Alguazils were all armed to the teeth with Bills
and Blunderbusses, Pistols and Hangers; but had they worn all the
weapons in the Horse Armoury in the Tower, it would not have saved them
from shivering in their shoes when "Hard and sharp" was the word, and
an encounter with the terrible Blacks had to be endured. We should have
made mince-meat of them all, and perhaps hanged up one or two of them
outside the inn as an extra signpost. But we were not only unarmed, we
were overmatched, my hearties. There were the Redcoats, burn them! How
many times in my life have I been foiled and baffled by those miscreated
men-machines in scarlet blanketing! No use in a stout Heart, no use in a
strong Hand, no use in a sharp Sword, or a pair of barkers with teeth
that never fail, when you have to do with a Soldier. Do! What are you to
do with him? There he is, with his shaven face and his hair powdered, as
if he were going to a fourpenny fandango at Bagnigge Wells. There he is,
as obstinate as a Pig, and as firm as a Rock, with his confounded bright
firelock, bayonet, and crossbelts. There he is, immoveable and
unconquerable, defying the boldest of Smugglers, the bravest of
Gentlemen Rovers, and, by the Lord Harry, _he eats you up_. Always give
the Redcoats a wide berth, my dear, and the Grenadiers more than all.
Unequal as were the odds, with all these Roaring Dragons in scarlet
baize on our trail, we had still a most desperate fight for it. While
the mob of Constables kept cowering in the bar-room down-stairs, crying
out to us to surrender in the King's name,--I believe that one poor
creature, the Justice of Peace, after getting himself well walled up in
a corner with chairs and tables, began to quaver out the King's
Proclamation against the Blacks,--the plaguy Soldiers came blundering up
both pair of stairs, and fell upon us Billy Boys tooth and nail. 'Slid!
my blood simmers when I think of it. Over went the tables and settles!
Smash went trenchers and cups and glasses! Clink-a-clink went
sword-blades and bayonets! "And don't fire, my lads!" cries out the
Soldier-officer to his Grannies. "We want all these rogues to hang up at
Aylesbury Gaol."
"Rogue yourself, and back to your Mother!" cries Captain Night, very
pale; but I never saw him look Bolder or Handsomer. "Rogue in your
Tripes, you Hanover Rat!" and he shortens his sword and rushes on the
Soldier-officer.
The Grenadier Captain was brave enough, but he was but a smockfaced lad
fresh from the Mall and St. James's Guard-room, and he had no chance
against a steady practised Swordsman and Forest Blood, as Captain Night
was. We all thought he would make short work of the Soldier-officer. He
had him in a corner, and the Chaplain, a-top of whom was a Grenadier
trying to throttle or capture him, or both, exclaims, "Give him the
grace-blow, my dear; give it him under the fifth rib!" when Captain
Night cries, "Go home to your mother, Milksop!" and he catches his own
sword by the hilt, hits his Enemy a blow on the right wrist enough to
numb it for a month, twists his fingers in his cravat, flings him on one
side, and right into the middle of a punch-bowl, and then, upon my word,
he himself jumps out of Window, shouting out, "Follow me, little Jack
Dangerous!"
I wished for nothing better, and had already my leg on the sill, when
two great hulking Grenadiers seized hold of me. 'Twas then, for the
first time, that I earned a just claim and title to the name of
Dangerous; for a little dirk I was armed with being wrested from me by
Soldier number one, who eggs on his comrade to collar the young Fox-cub,
as he calls me, I seize a heavy Stone Demijohn fall of brandy, and smash
it goes on the head of Soldier number two. He falls with a dismal groan,
the blood and brandy running in equal measure from his head, and the
first Soldier runs his bayonet through me.
Luckily, 'twas but a flesh-wound in the flank, and no vital part was
touched. It was enough for me, however, poor Urchin,--enough to make me
tumble down in a dead faint; and when I came to myself, I found that I
had been removed to the bar-room down-stairs, where I made one of
nineteen Blacks, all prisoners to the King for stealing his Deer, and
all bound hand and foot with Ropes.
"Never mind their hurting your wrists, young Hempseed," chuckled one of
the scaldpated constable rogues who was guarding us. "You'll have enough
to tighten your gullet after 'Sizes, as sure as eggs is eggs."
"Nay, brother Grimstock, the elf's too young to be hanged," puts in
another constable, with somewhat of a charitable visage.
"Too young!" echoes he addressed as Grimstock. "'Twas bred in the bone
in him, the varmint, and the Gallows Fever will come out in the flesh.
Too young! he was weaned on rue, and rode between his Father's legs
(that swung) i' the cart to Tyburn, and never sailed a cockboat but in
Execution Dock. My tobacco-box to a tester an' he dance not on nothing
if he comes to holding up his hand before Judge Blackcap, that never
spared but one in the Calendar, and then 'twas by Mistake."