Clear of the locksmith’s house, Sim Tappertit laid aside his cautious
manner, and assuming in its stead that of a ruffling, swaggering, roving
blade, who would rather kill a man than otherwise, and eat him too if
needful, made the best of his way along the darkened streets.
Half pausing for an instant now and then to smite his pocket and assure
himself of the safety of his master key, he hurried on to Barbican, and
turning into one of the narrowest of the narrow streets which diverged
from that centre, slackened his pace and wiped his heated brow, as if
the termination of his walk were near at hand.
It was not a very choice spot for midnight expeditions, being in truth
one of more than questionable character, and of an appearance by no
means inviting. From the main street he had entered, itself little
better than an alley, a low-browed doorway led into a blind court, or
yard, profoundly dark, unpaved, and reeking with stagnant odours. Into
this ill-favoured pit, the locksmith’s vagrant ‘prentice groped his way;
and stopping at a house from whose defaced and rotten front the rude
effigy of a bottle swung to and fro like some gibbeted malefactor,
struck thrice upon an iron grating with his foot. After listening in
vain for some response to his signal, Mr Tappertit became impatient, and
struck the grating thrice again.
A further delay ensued, but it was not of long duration. The ground
seemed to open at his feet, and a ragged head appeared.
‘Is that the captain?’ said a voice as ragged as the head.
‘Yes,’ replied Mr Tappertit haughtily, descending as he spoke, ‘who
should it be?’
‘It’s so late, we gave you up,’ returned the voice, as its owner stopped
to shut and fasten the grating. ‘You’re late, sir.’
‘Lead on,’ said Mr Tappertit, with a gloomy majesty, ‘and make remarks
when I require you. Forward!’
This latter word of command was perhaps somewhat theatrical and
unnecessary, inasmuch as the descent was by a very narrow, steep, and
slippery flight of steps, and any rashness or departure from the beaten
track must have ended in a yawning water-butt. But Mr Tappertit being,
like some other great commanders, favourable to strong effects, and
personal display, cried ‘Forward!’ again, in the hoarsest voice he could
assume; and led the way, with folded arms and knitted brows, to the
cellar down below, where there was a small copper fixed in one corner,
a chair or two, a form and table, a glimmering fire, and a truckle-bed,
covered with a ragged patchwork rug.
‘Welcome, noble captain!’ cried a lanky figure, rising as from a nap.
The captain nodded. Then, throwing off his outer coat, he stood composed
in all his dignity, and eyed his follower over.
‘What news to-night?’ he asked, when he had looked into his very soul.
‘Nothing particular,’ replied the other, stretching himself--and he was
so long already that it was quite alarming to see him do it--‘how come
you to be so late?’
‘No matter,’ was all the captain deigned to say in answer. ‘Is the room
prepared?’
‘It is,’ replied the follower.
‘The comrade--is he here?’
‘Yes. And a sprinkling of the others--you hear ‘em?’
‘Playing skittles!’ said the captain moodily. ‘Light-hearted revellers!’
There was no doubt respecting the particular amusement in which these
heedless spirits were indulging, for even in the close and stifling
atmosphere of the vault, the noise sounded like distant thunder. It
certainly appeared, at first sight, a singular spot to choose, for that
or any other purpose of relaxation, if the other cellars answered to
the one in which this brief colloquy took place; for the floors were of
sodden earth, the walls and roof of damp bare brick tapestried with
the tracks of snails and slugs; the air was sickening, tainted, and
offensive. It seemed, from one strong flavour which was uppermost among
the various odours of the place, that it had, at no very distant period,
been used as a storehouse for cheeses; a circumstance which, while it
accounted for the greasy moisture that hung about it, was agreeably
suggestive of rats. It was naturally damp besides, and little trees of
fungus sprung from every mouldering corner.
The proprietor of this charming retreat, and owner of the ragged head
before mentioned--for he wore an old tie-wig as bare and frowzy as a
stunted hearth-broom--had by this time joined them; and stood a little
apart, rubbing his hands, wagging his hoary bristled chin, and smiling
in silence. His eyes were closed; but had they been wide open, it would
have been easy to tell, from the attentive expression of the face he
turned towards them--pale and unwholesome as might be expected in one
of his underground existence--and from a certain anxious raising and
quivering of the lids, that he was blind.
‘Even Stagg hath been asleep,’ said the long comrade, nodding towards
this person.
‘Sound, captain, sound!’ cried the blind man; ‘what does my noble
captain drink--is it brandy, rum, usquebaugh? Is it soaked gunpowder, or
blazing oil? Give it a name, heart of oak, and we’d get it for you, if
it was wine from a bishop’s cellar, or melted gold from King George’s
mint.’
‘See,’ said Mr Tappertit haughtily, ‘that it’s something strong, and
comes quick; and so long as you take care of that, you may bring it from
the devil’s cellar, if you like.’
‘Boldly said, noble captain!’ rejoined the blind man. ‘Spoken like the
‘Prentices’ Glory. Ha, ha! From the devil’s cellar! A brave joke! The
captain joketh. Ha, ha, ha!’
‘I’ll tell you what, my fine feller,’ said Mr Tappertit, eyeing the
host over as he walked to a closet, and took out a bottle and glass as
carelessly as if he had been in full possession of his sight, ‘if you
make that row, you’ll find that the captain’s very far from joking, and
so I tell you.’
‘He’s got his eyes on me!’ cried Stagg, stopping short on his way back,
and affecting to screen his face with the bottle. ‘I feel ‘em though I
can’t see ‘em. Take ‘em off, noble captain. Remove ‘em, for they pierce
like gimlets.’
Mr Tappertit smiled grimly at his comrade; and twisting out one more
look--a kind of ocular screw--under the influence of which the blind man
feigned to undergo great anguish and torture, bade him, in a softened
tone, approach, and hold his peace.
‘I obey you, captain,’ cried Stagg, drawing close to him and filling
out a bumper without spilling a drop, by reason that he held his little
finger at the brim of the glass, and stopped at the instant the liquor
touched it, ‘drink, noble governor. Death to all masters, life to all
‘prentices, and love to all fair damsels. Drink, brave general, and warm
your gallant heart!’
Mr Tappertit condescended to take the glass from his outstretched hand.
Stagg then dropped on one knee, and gently smoothed the calves of his
legs, with an air of humble admiration.
‘That I had but eyes!’ he cried, ‘to behold my captain’s symmetrical
proportions! That I had but eyes, to look upon these twin invaders of
domestic peace!’
‘Get out!’ said Mr Tappertit, glancing downward at his favourite limbs.
‘Go along, will you, Stagg!’
‘When I touch my own afterwards,’ cried the host, smiting them
reproachfully, ‘I hate ‘em. Comparatively speaking, they’ve no more
shape than wooden legs, beside these models of my noble captain’s.’
‘Yours!’ exclaimed Mr Tappertit. ‘No, I should think not. Don’t talk
about those precious old toothpicks in the same breath with mine; that’s
rather too much. Here. Take the glass. Benjamin. Lead on. To business!’
With these words, he folded his arms again; and frowning with a sullen
majesty, passed with his companion through a little door at the upper
end of the cellar, and disappeared; leaving Stagg to his private
meditations.
The vault they entered, strewn with sawdust and dimly lighted, was
between the outer one from which they had just come, and that in which
the skittle-players were diverting themselves; as was manifested by
the increased noise and clamour of tongues, which was suddenly stopped,
however, and replaced by a dead silence, at a signal from the long
comrade. Then, this young gentleman, going to a little cupboard,
returned with a thigh-bone, which in former times must have been part
and parcel of some individual at least as long as himself, and placed
the same in the hands of Mr Tappertit; who, receiving it as a sceptre
and staff of authority, cocked his three-cornered hat fiercely on the
top of his head, and mounted a large table, whereon a chair of state,
cheerfully ornamented with a couple of skulls, was placed ready for his
reception.
He had no sooner assumed this position, than another young gentleman
appeared, bearing in his arms a huge clasped book, who made him a
profound obeisance, and delivering it to the long comrade, advanced to
the table, and turning his back upon it, stood there Atlas-wise. Then,
the long comrade got upon the table too; and seating himself in a lower
chair than Mr Tappertit’s, with much state and ceremony, placed the
large book on the shoulders of their mute companion as deliberately as
if he had been a wooden desk, and prepared to make entries therein with
a pen of corresponding size.
When the long comrade had made these preparations, he looked towards Mr
Tappertit; and Mr Tappertit, flourishing the bone, knocked nine times
therewith upon one of the skulls. At the ninth stroke, a third young
gentleman emerged from the door leading to the skittle ground, and
bowing low, awaited his commands.
‘Prentice!’ said the mighty captain, ‘who waits without?’
The ‘prentice made answer that a stranger was in attendance, who claimed
admission into that secret society of ‘Prentice Knights, and a free
participation in their rights, privileges, and immunities. Thereupon
Mr Tappertit flourished the bone again, and giving the other skull a
prodigious rap on the nose, exclaimed ‘Admit him!’ At these dread words
the ‘prentice bowed once more, and so withdrew as he had come.
There soon appeared at the same door, two other ‘prentices, having
between them a third, whose eyes were bandaged, and who was attired in a
bag-wig, and a broad-skirted coat, trimmed with tarnished lace; and who
was girded with a sword, in compliance with the laws of the Institution
regulating the introduction of candidates, which required them to
assume this courtly dress, and kept it constantly in lavender, for
their convenience. One of the conductors of this novice held a rusty
blunderbuss pointed towards his ear, and the other a very ancient
sabre, with which he carved imaginary offenders as he came along in a
sanguinary and anatomical manner.
As this silent group advanced, Mr Tappertit fixed his hat upon his head.
The novice then laid his hand upon his breast and bent before him. When
he had humbled himself sufficiently, the captain ordered the bandage to
be removed, and proceeded to eye him over.
‘Ha!’ said the captain, thoughtfully, when he had concluded this ordeal.
‘Proceed.’
The long comrade read aloud as follows:--‘Mark Gilbert. Age, nineteen.
Bound to Thomas Curzon, hosier, Golden Fleece, Aldgate. Loves Curzon’s
daughter. Cannot say that Curzon’s daughter loves him. Should think it
probable. Curzon pulled his ears last Tuesday week.’
‘How!’ cried the captain, starting.
‘For looking at his daughter, please you,’ said the novice.
‘Write Curzon down, Denounced,’ said the captain. ‘Put a black cross
against the name of Curzon.’
‘So please you,’ said the novice, ‘that’s not the worst--he calls his
‘prentice idle dog, and stops his beer unless he works to his liking. He
gives Dutch cheese, too, eating Cheshire, sir, himself; and Sundays out,
are only once a month.’
‘This,’ said Mr Tappert gravely, ‘is a flagrant case. Put two black
crosses to the name of Curzon.’
‘If the society,’ said the novice, who was an ill-looking, one-sided,
shambling lad, with sunken eyes set close together in his head--‘if the
society would burn his house down--for he’s not insured--or beat him
as he comes home from his club at night, or help me to carry off his
daughter, and marry her at the Fleet, whether she gave consent or no--’
Mr Tappertit waved his grizzly truncheon as an admonition to him not to
interrupt, and ordered three black crosses to the name of Curzon.
‘Which means,’ he said in gracious explanation, ‘vengeance, complete and
terrible. ‘Prentice, do you love the Constitution?’
To which the novice (being to that end instructed by his attendant
sponsors) replied ‘I do!’
‘The Church, the State, and everything established--but the masters?’
quoth the captain.
Again the novice said ‘I do.’
Having said it, he listened meekly to the captain, who in an address
prepared for such occasions, told him how that under that same
Constitution (which was kept in a strong box somewhere, but where
exactly he could not find out, or he would have endeavoured to procure a
copy of it), the ‘prentices had, in times gone by, had frequent holidays
of right, broken people’s heads by scores, defied their masters, nay,
even achieved some glorious murders in the streets, which privileges
had gradually been wrested from them, and in all which noble aspirations
they were now restrained; how the degrading checks imposed upon them
were unquestionably attributable to the innovating spirit of the times,
and how they united therefore to resist all change, except such change
as would restore those good old English customs, by which they would
stand or fall. After illustrating the wisdom of going backward, by
reference to that sagacious fish, the crab, and the not unfrequent
practice of the mule and donkey, he described their general objects;
which were briefly vengeance on their Tyrant Masters (of whose grievous
and insupportable oppression no ‘prentice could entertain a moment’s
doubt) and the restoration, as aforesaid, of their ancient rights and
holidays; for neither of which objects were they now quite ripe, being
barely twenty strong, but which they pledged themselves to pursue with
fire and sword when needful. Then he described the oath which every
member of that small remnant of a noble body took, and which was of a
dreadful and impressive kind; binding him, at the bidding of his chief,
to resist and obstruct the Lord Mayor, sword-bearer, and chaplain; to
despise the authority of the sheriffs; and to hold the court of aldermen
as nought; but not on any account, in case the fulness of time should
bring a general rising of ‘prentices, to damage or in any way disfigure
Temple Bar, which was strictly constitutional and always to be
approached with reverence. Having gone over these several heads with
great eloquence and force, and having further informed the novice that
this society had its origin in his own teeming brain, stimulated by a
swelling sense of wrong and outrage, Mr Tappertit demanded whether he
had strength of heart to take the mighty pledge required, or whether he
would withdraw while retreat was yet in his power.
To this the novice made rejoinder, that he would take the vow, though
it should choke him; and it was accordingly administered with many
impressive circumstances, among which the lighting up of the two skulls
with a candle-end inside of each, and a great many flourishes with
the bone, were chiefly conspicuous; not to mention a variety of grave
exercises with the blunderbuss and sabre, and some dismal groaning by
unseen ‘prentices without. All these dark and direful ceremonies
being at length completed, the table was put aside, the chair of state
removed, the sceptre locked up in its usual cupboard, the doors of
communication between the three cellars thrown freely open, and the
‘Prentice Knights resigned themselves to merriment.
But Mr Tappertit, who had a soul above the vulgar herd, and who, on
account of his greatness, could only afford to be merry now and then,
threw himself on a bench with the air of a man who was faint with
dignity. He looked with an indifferent eye, alike on skittles, cards,
and dice, thinking only of the locksmith’s daughter, and the base
degenerate days on which he had fallen.
‘My noble captain neither games, nor sings, nor dances,’ said his host,
taking a seat beside him. ‘Drink, gallant general!’
Mr Tappertit drained the proffered goblet to the dregs; then thrust
his hands into his pockets, and with a lowering visage walked among the
skittles, while his followers (such is the influence of superior genius)
restrained the ardent ball, and held his little shins in dumb respect.
‘If I had been born a corsair or a pirate, a brigand, genteel highwayman
or patriot--and they’re the same thing,’ thought Mr Tappertit, musing
among the nine-pins, ‘I should have been all right. But to drag out a
ignoble existence unbeknown to mankind in general--patience! I will be
famous yet. A voice within me keeps on whispering Greatness. I shall
burst out one of these days, and when I do, what power can keep me down?
I feel my soul getting into my head at the idea. More drink there!’
‘The novice,’ pursued Mr Tappertit, not exactly in a voice of thunder,
for his tones, to say the truth were rather cracked and shrill--but very
impressively, notwithstanding--‘where is he?’
‘Here, noble captain!’ cried Stagg. ‘One stands beside me who I feel is
a stranger.’
‘Have you,’ said Mr Tappertit, letting his gaze fall on the party
indicated, who was indeed the new knight, by this time restored to his
own apparel; ‘Have you the impression of your street-door key in wax?’
The long comrade anticipated the reply, by producing it from the shelf
on which it had been deposited.
‘Good,’ said Mr Tappertit, scrutinising it attentively, while a
breathless silence reigned around; for he had constructed secret
door-keys for the whole society, and perhaps owed something of his
influence to that mean and trivial circumstance--on such slight
accidents do even men of mind depend!--‘This is easily made. Come
hither, friend.’
With that, he beckoned the new knight apart, and putting the pattern in
his pocket, motioned to him to walk by his side.
‘And so,’ he said, when they had taken a few turns up and down, you--you
love your master’s daughter?’
‘I do,’ said the ‘prentice. ‘Honour bright. No chaff, you know.’
‘Have you,’ rejoined Mr Tappertit, catching him by the wrist, and
giving him a look which would have been expressive of the most deadly
malevolence, but for an accidental hiccup that rather interfered with
it; ‘have you a--a rival?’
‘Not as I know on,’ replied the ‘prentice.
‘If you had now--’ said Mr Tappertit--‘what would you--eh?--’
The ‘prentice looked fierce and clenched his fists.
‘It is enough,’ cried Mr Tappertit hastily, ‘we understand each other.
We are observed. I thank you.’
So saying, he cast him off again; and calling the long comrade aside
after taking a few hasty turns by himself, bade him immediately write
and post against the wall, a notice, proscribing one Joseph Willet
(commonly known as Joe) of Chigwell; forbidding all ‘Prentice Knights
to succour, comfort, or hold communion with him; and requiring them,
on pain of excommunication, to molest, hurt, wrong, annoy, and pick
quarrels with the said Joseph, whensoever and wheresoever they, or any
of them, should happen to encounter him.
Having relieved his mind by this energetic proceeding, he condescended
to approach the festive board, and warming by degrees, at length deigned
to preside, and even to enchant the company with a song. After this,
he rose to such a pitch as to consent to regale the society with a
hornpipe, which he actually performed to the music of a fiddle (played
by an ingenious member) with such surpassing agility and brilliancy of
execution, that the spectators could not be sufficiently enthusiastic in
their admiration; and their host protested, with tears in his eyes, that
he had never truly felt his blindness until that moment.
But the host withdrawing--probably to weep in secret--soon returned with
the information that it wanted little more than an hour of day, and that
all the cocks in Barbican had already begun to crow, as if their lives
depended on it. At this intelligence, the ‘Prentice Knights arose in
haste, and marshalling into a line, filed off one by one and dispersed
with all speed to their several homes, leaving their leader to pass the
grating last.
‘Good night, noble captain,’ whispered the blind man as he held it open
for his passage out; ‘Farewell, brave general. Bye, bye, illustrious
commander. Good luck go with you for a--conceited, bragging,
empty-headed, duck-legged idiot.’
With which parting words, coolly added as he listened to his receding
footsteps and locked the grate upon himself, he descended the steps,
and lighting the fire below the little copper, prepared, without
any assistance, for his daily occupation; which was to retail at the
area-head above pennyworths of broth and soup, and savoury puddings,
compounded of such scraps as were to be bought in the heap for the least
money at Fleet Market in the evening time; and for the sale of which
he had need to have depended chiefly on his private connection, for the
court had no thoroughfare, and was not that kind of place in which
many people were likely to take the air, or to frequent as an agreeable
promenade.