Alas, the secret subjection into which I fell from that day onwards,
to a man who knew neither pity nor scruple--and wielded his power with
the greater enjoyment and the less remorse for the piquant contrast it
afforded to his position, as a proscribed and hunted traitor, in
hiding for his life--exceeded all the anticipations of it which I had
entertained. Having his favourite lodging in the rooms opposite mine,
he was ready, when the cruel humour seized him, to sally forth and
mock and torment me; while the privacy of his movements and the number
of his disguises (whence it arose that I never knew until I saw him
whether he was there or not) kept me in a state of suspense and misery
well nigh intolerable. Yet such was the spell of fear under which he
had contrived to lay me--he being a violent and dangerous man and I no
soldier--and so crafty were the means, no less than the art, by which
he gradually wound a chain about me, that in spite of my hatred I
found resistance vain; and for a long time, and until a _deus ex
machina_, as the ancients say, appeared on the scene, saw no resource
but to bear the yoke and do his bidding.
He had one principal mode of strengthening his hold upon me; which
stood the higher in his favour, as besides effecting that object and
rendering me serviceable, it amused him with the spectacle of my
alarms. This consisted in the employing me in his treasonable designs:
as by sending me with letters and messages to Sam's Coffeehouse, or to
the Dog in Drury Lane, or to more private places where the Jacobites
congregated; by making me a go-between to arrange meetings with those
of his kidney who dared not stir abroad in daylight, and came and went
between London and the coast of France under cover of night; or
lastly, by using me to drop treasonable papers in the streets, or
fetch the same from the secret press, in a court off St. James's,
where they were printed.
He took especial delight in imposing this last task upon me, and in
depicting, when I returned fresh from performing it, the penalties to
which I had rendered myself liable. It may occur to some that when I
passed through the streets with such papers in my hands I had an easy
way out of my troubles; and could at any moment by conveying the
letters to the Secretary's office procure the tyrant's arrest, and my
own freedom. But besides the fact that his frequent change of lodging,
his excellent information, and the legion of spies who served him,
rendered it doubtful whether with the best will in the world the
messengers would find him where I had left him, he frequently
boasted--and the boast, if unfounded, added to my distrust of all with
whom I came into contact--that the very tipsters and officers were in
his pay, and that Cutts himself dared not arrest him! Besides, I more
than suspected that often the letters he gave me were blank, and the
errands harmless: and that the one and the other were feigned only for
the purpose of trying me, or out of pure cruelty--to the end that when
I returned he might describe with gusto the process of hanging,
drawing, and quartering, and gloat over the horror with which I
listened to his relation; a practice which he carried to such an
extent as more than once to reduce me to tears of rage and anguish.
Such was my life at home, where if my tyrant was not always at my
elbow I was every hour obnoxious to his appearance; for early in our
connection he forbade me to lock my door. Abroad I was scarcely more
easy, seeing that, besides an impression I had that wherever I went I
was dogged, there was scarcely an item of news which it fell to my lot
to record that did not throw me into a panic. One day it would be Mr.
Bear arrested on a charge of high treason, and in possession of I knew
not what compromising letters: another, the suicide in the Temple of a
gentleman to whom I myself had a week earlier taken a letter, and who
had in my presence let fall expressions which led me to think him in
the same evil case with me. Another day it would be an announcement
that the Government had discovered a new Conspiracy; or that letters
going for France had been seized in Romney Marshes; or that the
Lancashire witnesses were speaking more candidly; or that Dr. Oates
had been taken up and held to bail for a misdemeanour. All these and
many other rumours punished me in turn; and filling my mind with the
keenest apprehensions, must in a short time have rendered my life
intolerable.
As it was, Mr. Brome, within a month, saw so great a change in me that
he would have me take a holiday; advising me to go afield either to my
relations, or to some village on the Lea, to which neighbourhood Mr.
Izaak Walton's book had given a reputation exceeding its deserts. He
reinforced the advice with a gift of two guineas, that I might spend
the month royally; then in a great hurry added an injunction that I
should not waste the money. But I did worse; for I had the simple
folly to tell the whole by way of protest and bitter complaint to my
other master; who first with a grin took from me the two guineas, and
then made himself merry over the increased time I could now place at
his disposal.
"And it is timely, Dick, it is timely," he said with ugly pleasantry.
"For, the good cause, the cause you love so dearly, Dick, is
prospering. Another month and you and I know what will happen. Ha! ha!
we know. In the meantime, work while it is day, Dick. Put your hand to
the plough and look not back. If all were as forward as you, our necks
would be in little peril, and we might see a rope without thinking of
a cart."
"Curse you!" I cried, almost beside myself between disappointment, and
the rage into which his fiendish teasing threw me. "Cannot you keep
your tongue off that? Is it not enough that you----"
"Have taught me to limp!" quoth he winking hideously. "Here's to
Louis, James, Mary, and the Prince--L. I. M. P., my lad! Oh, we can
talk the deealect. We have had good teachers."
I could have burst into tears. "Some day you'll be caught!" I cried.
"Well?" he said with a grin. "And what then?"
"You'll be hanged! Hanged!" I cried furiously. "And God grant I may be
there to see."
"You will that," he answered with composure. "Make your mind easy, my
man, for, trust me, if I am in the first cart, you'll be in the
second. That is my security, friend Dick. If I go, you go. Who carried
to Mr. Warmaky's chambers the letters from France, I would like to
know? And who---- But the cause!" he continued, breaking off, "the
cause! To business, and no more havers. Here's work for you. You shall
go, do you hear me, Richard, to Covent Garden to the Piazza there, in
half an hour's time. It will be full dark then. You will see there a
fine gentleman walking up and down, taking his tobacco, with a white
handkerchief hanging from his pocket. You will give him that note, and
say 'Roberts and Guiney are good men'--d'ye take it? 'Roberts and
Guiney are good men,' say that, and no more, and come back to me."
I answered at first, being in a rage, and not liking this errand
better than others I had done for him, that I would not--I would not,
though he killed me. But he had a way with him that I could not long
resist; and he presently cowed me, and sent me off.
I had so far fallen into his sneaking habits that though it was dark
night when I started, I went the farthest way round by Holborn, and
the new fashionable quarter, Soho; and passing through King's Square
itself, and before the late Duke of Monmouth's house--the sight of
which did not lessen my distaste for my errand--I entered Covent
Garden by James Street, which comes into the square between the two
Piazzas. At the corner, I had to turn into the roadway to avoid
a party of roisterers who had just issued from the Nag's Head
coffee-house and were roaring for a coach; and being in the kennel,
and observing under the Piazza and before the taverns more lights and
link-boys than I liked, I continued along the gutter, dirty as it was
(and always is in the neighbourhood of the market), until I was
half-way across the square, where I could turn and reconnoitre at my
leisure. Here for a moment, running my eye along the Piazza, which had
its usual fringe of flower girls and mumpers, swearing porters and
hackney coaches, I thought my man with the white handkerchief had not
come; but shifting my gaze to the Little Piazza, which was darker and
less frequented, I presently espied him walking to and fro under
cover, with a cane in his hand and the air of a gentleman who had
supped and was looking out for a pretty girl. He was a tall, stout
man, wearing a large black peruke and a lace cravat and ruffles; and
he carried a steel-hilted sword, and had somehow the bearing of one
who had seen service abroad.
Satisfied that he was the person I wanted, I went to him; but stepping
up to him a little hastily, I gave him a start, I suppose, for he
backed from me and laid his hand on his hilt, rapping out an oath.
However, a clearer view reassured him, and he cocked his hat, and
swore at me again but in a different tone. "Sir," said he very rudely,
"another time give a gentleman a wider berth, unless you want his cane
about your shoulders!"
For answer I merely pulled out the note I had and held it towards him,
being accustomed to such errands and anxious only to do this one, and
begone; the more as under the Great Piazza a number of persons were
loitering, and among them link-boys and chairmen and the like who
notice everything.
However he made no movement to take the letter, but only said, "For
me?"
"Yes," I answered.
"From whom?" said he, roughly.
"You will learn that inside," I said. "I was bidden only to say that
Roberts and Guiney are good men."
"Ha!" he exclaimed, "why did you not say that before?" and at that
took the letter. On which, having done my part and not liking the
neighbourhood, I was for going, and had actually made a half turn,
when a man slighter than the first and taller, came out of the shadow
behind him, and standing by his side, touched his hat to me. I
stopped.
"Good evening, my lord," he said, addressing me with ceremony, and a
sort of dignity. "I little thought to see you here on this business.
It is the best news I have had myself or have had to give to others
this many a day. It shall be well represented, and the risk you
run. And whatever be thought on this side, believe me, at St.
Germain's----"
"Hush!" cried the first man, interrupting him at that, and rather
sharply. I think he had been too much surprised to speak before. "You
are too hasty, sir," he continued. "There must be a mistake here. The
gentleman to whom you are speaking----"
"There is no mistake. This gentleman and I are well acquainted," the
other responded coolly, and in the tone of a man who knows what he is
doing. And then to me, and with a different air, "My lord, you may not
wish to say your name aloud; that I can understand, and this is no
very safe place for either of us. But if we could meet somewhere, say
at----"
"Hush, sir," the man with the handkerchief cried, and this time almost
angrily. "There _is_ a mistake here, and in a moment you will say too
much, if you have not said it already. This gentleman--if he is a
gentleman--brings a letter from R. F., and is no more of a lord, I'll
be sworn, than I am!"
"From R. F.?"
"Yes; and therefore if he is the person you think him---- But come,
sir," he continued, eyeing me angrily, "what _is_ your name? End
this."
I did not wish to tell him, yet liked less to refuse. So I lied, and
on the spur of the moment said, "Charles Taylor," that being the name
of a man who lived below me.
The taller man struck one hand into the other. "There! Charles!" he
cried, and looked at me smiling. "I have an eye for faces, and if you
are not----"
"Nay, sir, I pray, be quiet," the man with the white handkerchief
remonstrated. "Or if you are so certain----" and then he looked hard
at me and frowned as if he began to feel a doubt. "Step this way and
tell me what you think. This gentleman will doubtless excuse us, and
wait a moment, whether he be whom you think him or not."
I was as uneasy and as unwilling to stay as could be; but the man's
tone was resolute, and I saw that he was not a man to cross; so with
an ill grace I consented, and the two drawing aside together into the
deeper shadow under the Piazza, began to confer. This left me to kick
my heels impatiently, and watch out of the corner of my eye the
loiterers under the other Piazza, to learn if any observed us.
Fortunately they were taken up with a quarrel which had just broken
out between two hackney coachmen, and though a man came near me,
bringing a woman, he had no eyes for me, and, calling a sedan-chair,
went away again almost immediately.
I was so engrossed with watching on that side and taking everyone who
looked towards me for an informer, that it was with a kind of shock
that I found my two friends had grown in the course of their
conference to three; nor had I more than discovered this before the
new comer left the other two and sauntered up to me. "Oh, ah," he said
carelessly, "and who do you say that you----" and there he stopped,
staring in my face. And then, "By heavens, it is!" he cried.
By this time I was something astonished, and more amazed; and answered
with spirit--though he was a hard-bitten man, with the look of a
soldier or gamester, to whom ordinarily I should have given the
wall--that I was merely a messenger, and knew nothing of the matter on
which I was there, nor for whom they took me.
His face, which for a second or more had blazed with excitement, fell
suddenly; and when I had done speaking, he laughed.
"Don't you?" he said.
"No," said I. "Not a groat!"
"So it seems," he said again, as if that settled the matter. "Well,
then what is your name?"
"Charles Taylor," I answered.
"And you come from that old rogue Ferg--R. F., I mean?"
"Yes."
"Well then you can go back to him," he said, dismissing me with a nod.
"Or wait. Did you know that gentleman, my friend?"
"Which?" said I.
"The tall one."
"Not from Adam," I said.
"Good! Then there is no need you should know him," he answered coolly.
"So, go. And do you tell that old fox to lie close. He was never in
anything yet but he spoiled it. Tell him to lie close, and keep his
bragging tongue quiet if he can. And now be off. I will explain to the
gentlemen."
I needed no second bidding, but before the words were well out of his
mouth, had crossed the square, to the market side, where there were no
lights; thence skirting the garden of Bedford House, I made my way
into the Strand, and home by a pretty direct route. The farther I left
the men behind me, however, the higher rose my curiosity; so that by
the time I reached Bride Lane, and had climbed the stairs to my
garret, I was agape to know more, and for once in my life, was glad to
find the old plotter in my room. Nor was it without satisfaction, that
to his eager question, "You gave the note to the gentleman?" I
answered shortly that I had given it to three.
"To three?" he exclaimed, starting up in a sudden fury. "You d----d
cur, if you have betrayed me! What do you mean?"
"Only that I did what you told me," I answered sullenly; at which he
sat down again. "I gave it to the gentleman; but he had two with
him----"
"The more to hang him," he sneered, quickly recovering himself. "And
what did he say?"
"Very little. Nothing that I remember. But the two with him----"
"Ay?"
"One of them said, 'Tell the old fox'--or the rogue, for he called
you both--'to lie close!' And he added," I continued, spite giving me
courage, "that you had hitherto spoiled everything you had been in,
Mr. Ferguson."
At that I do not think that I ever saw a man in such a rage.
Fortunately he did not turn it on me; but for two or three minutes he
cursed and swore, bit things and foamed at the mouth, trampled on his
wig and raged up and down, like nothing so much as a madman; while the
imprecations he uttered against his enemies were so horrible I feared
to stay with him. At length it seemed to occur to him that the man who
could send such a message to him, Ferguson, the great Ferguson, the
Ferguson with a thousand guineas on his head, must be a very great man
indeed: which while it consoled him in some measure, excited his
curiosity in another and inordinate degree. He hastened to put to me a
number of questions, as, what were the two like? And did the one pay
the other respect? And how were they dressed? And had either a ribbon
or a star? And though in answer I could tell him no more than that the
youngest was extremely tall and slight, under thirty, and of an easy
carriage and bearing, and in appearance the leader, it was enough for
him; he presently cried out that he had it, and slapped his thigh.
"Gad! It is Jamie Churchill!" he cried. "It's Berwick, stop my vitals!
He had a villainous French accent, had he not?"
"Something of the kind," I answered. Adding with as much of a sneer as
I dared, "If it was not a Scotch one, sir."
He took the gibe and scowled at me--he spoke always like a Sawney, and
could never pass for English; but in his pleasure at the discovery he
had made he let the word pass. "See, man!" he said, "there are fine
times coming! It is like Monmouth's day over again. I'll warrant
Hunt's, down in the Marshes, is like a penny ferry with their coming
over. The fat is fairly in the fire now, and if we do not singe little
Hooknose's wig for him, I'll hang for it! He is a better man than
his father, is Jamie; ay, the very same figure of a man that his
cold-blooded, grease-your-boots, and sell-you-for-a-groat uncle, John
Churchill, was at his age! So Jamie is over! Well, well: and if we
knew precisely where he was and where he lies nights--there are two
ways about it! Ye-es! Ye-es!" And the old rogue, falling first into a
drawl and then into silence, looked at me slyly, and, unless I was
mistaken, began to ruminate on a new treason; rubbing now one calf and
now the other, and now dressing his ragged wig with his fingers, as he
continued to smile at his wicked thoughts; so that, as he sat there,
one leg over the other knee, he was the veriest baldheaded Judas to be
conceived. In the meantime I watched him and hated him, and, I
thought, read him.
Whatever the scheme in his mind, however, and whether he was, as I
expected, as ready to sell the Duke of Berwick as to plot with him, he
said no more to me on the subject; but presently went to his own room.
Thus left, I thought it high time to consider where I stood, being all
of a tremble and twitter with what I had heard and seen; and I tossed
through the night, fearfully sounding the depths in which I found
myself, and striving to gain strength to battle with the stream that
day by day was forcing me farther and farther from the land. I was no
boy or fool, unaware of the danger of being mixed up with great men
and great names; rather the ten years during which I had followed
public affairs had presented me with only too many examples of the
iron pot and clay pitcher. When, therefore, I slept at last, late in
the evening, it was to dream of the sledge and Tyburn road and the
Ordinary--who bore in my dream a marvellous likeness to Mr. Brome--and
a wall of faces that lined the way and never ceased from St. Giles's
Pound to the Edgeware Road.
Such a dream, taken with my night's thoughts, left me eager to put in
execution a plan I had more than once considered; which was to give up
all, to fly from London, and hiding myself in some quiet place under
another name, to live as I best might until Ferguson's capture, or a
change in the state of affairs freed me from danger. At a distance
from him I might even gain courage to inform against him; but this I
left for future decision, the main thing now being to pack my clothes,
secure about me the money I had saved, which amounted to thirty
guineas, and escape from the town on foot or in a stage-wagon without
any of his myrmidons being the wiser.
To adopt this course was to lose Mr. Brome's friendship and the
livelihood which his employment provided; but such was the fear I had
conceived of Ferguson's schemes and the perils they involved that I
scarcely hesitated. Before noon, an hour which I thought least open to
suspicion, I had engaged a porter and bidden him wait below, had made
all my other arrangements, and in five minutes I should have been safe
in the streets with my face set towards Kensington--when, at the last
moment, there came a tap at my door and a voice asked if I was in.
It was not an hour at which Ferguson had ever troubled me, and
trusting to this I had not been careful to hide the signs of removal
which my room presented. For a moment I hung over my trunk,
panic-stricken; then the door opened, and admitted the girl who
had intervened once before--I mean at the door of the Secretary's
office--and whom I had since noticed, but not often, going in at the
opposite rooms.
She curtseyed demurely, standing in the doorway, and said that Mr.
Smith--which was one of the names by which Ferguson went--had sent her
to me with a message.
"Yes," I said, forcing myself to speak.
"Would you please to wait on him this evening at eight," she answered.
"He wishes to speak with you."
"Yes," I said again, helplessly assenting; and there was an end of my
fine evasion. I took it for a warning, and my clothes from my mail;
and going down paid the porter a groat, and received in return a dozen
porter's oaths. And so dismissed him and my plan together.