divine, and pastor of a congregation of that communion at Monaghan,
in the North of Ireland. He designed James, his second son, for a
merchant, and bestowed upon him a sound education, but died before he
could put his intentions into effect of sending him to Rotterdam to be
placed in the counting-house of a Scotch merchant of his acquaintance.
Young Maclaine, the instant his father’s breath was out of his body,
proceeded to take possession and to dispose of his father’s substance;
and treated with perfect contempt the remonstrances of his friends
and relations, and the exhortations of his aunt, who, finding all her
entreaties ineffectual, took his only sister into her charge, and left
him to pursue what course he pleased.
Thus left to himself, Maclaine forgot altogether the projected Dutch
counting-house, and equipping himself in the gayest apparel that part
of the country could afford, and purchasing a gelding, set up fine
gentleman at once, and in a twelvemonth dissipated almost the whole
of his property. During his extravagances, however, his ear had been
frequently troubled with the remonstrances of his aunt and his other
relations, which at length he found so disagreeable, that he was fain
to set out for Dublin without communicating his intention to any
one. It was here, it appears, that he first conceived the notion of
making his fortune by marriage; and having no disagreeable person,
he gratuitously gave himself credit for many more excellencies than,
unfortunately, other people could discover in him. The demands for
the maintenance of such an appearance as would realize his hopes of a
rich marriage, soon swept away the small remainder of his property;
and he had now full time to reflect on his folly and vanity, and to
regret not a little having despised the advice of his relations, who
had for some time turned a deaf ear to his entreaties by letter for a
supply of money. But upon them, nevertheless, he felt was now his sole
dependence. He had long spent his all--he was an entire stranger to a
single individual of worth or substance in the place, and his credit
and clothes, even to the last shirt, were gone. Selling his sword,
therefore, the last piece of splendor that remained to him, he raised
as much as would bear his charges on foot, and with a heavy heart set
out to return to Monaghan, his native place.
Not a hand was outstretched to welcome the prodigal home again; his
aunt refused to see him, all his other relations followed her example,
and the companions of his former riots not only refused him relief,
but rendered him the sport and ridicule of the town. His sister,
however, sometimes contrived to see him by stealth to give him her
pocket money, but that could not long support him. Here, then, he must
inevitably have starved, had not a gentleman on his way to England,
passing through the town, compassionately offered him the place of a
servant who had recently died. Want, and the dread of starving, had
by this time entirely banished all unnecessary or superfluous pride,
and our young gentleman accepted the offer with joy. But, unhappily,
the extreme pressure of want once removed, old thoughts return, old
vanities are renewed; and so it was with Mr. Maclaine. His master’s
commands, though uniformly softened by good-nature and benevolence,
appeared to him as so many insults offered to his birth and breeding;
it is no wonder, therefore, that in a few months he was discharged from
his service. Depending on his sister, who was about to be married to
a man of some wealth, he set out once more for Ireland, to endeavor
to obtain enough from his relations to fit him out for America, or
the West Indies; but here again he was doomed to disappointment. His
sister’s marriage had been broken off--she was unable to do anything
for him;--and his other relations, deeming themselves scandalized
by his having been a footman, were even less tractable than before,
treated him with great indignity, and finally refused all manner of
assistance.
Again reduced to starvation, he was obliged to think of service as
his only resource. With much difficulty he obtained a situation as
butler to a gentleman near Cork, with whom he did not live long, being
discharged for some breach of trust. Here he remained for many months
out of place, wandering about, without any settled abode or means of
subsistence, except occasional remittances from his elder brother,
a pastor of the English congregation at the Hague, whose friendly
assistance was less relished, because it was accompanied by warm
remonstrances on the past, and wholesome advice on the future conduct
of his life.
Fortune was at length favorable; his old master, though he refused him
a character to another family, generously paid his passage to England,
and allowed him, for a limited period after his landing, a shilling a
day for subsistence.
Once again on this side of the water, his notions of gentility
returned; he scorned being a menial servant; and valuing the _minimum_
of his ambition at a pair of colors, he actually had the impudence to
attempt to borrow the purchase money on the bond he had obtained from
his master. This absurd scheme failing, he threw up his shilling a day
in disgust, and heroically cast himself for support on a celebrated
courtesan, a countrywoman of his own, who maintained him for some
months in great magnificence, and enabled him to attend the public
places with something like splendor.
But having disgusted this lady by his pusillanimous conduct in a
rencontre with a certain peer,--who bestowed upon him a severe
castigation, and very nearly ran him through the body, though he was
much stronger, and as well armed as the nobleman,--he was once more
without resources. His grandeur now suffered an eclipse for two or
three months, and his last suit had been laid by in lavender, or, in
other words, pawned, when he inspired the regard of a lady of quality,
the consequence of which was that for five or six months longer he
flourished away as an idle fellow in all the public places.
But Maclaine inwardly was not idle. He was extremely anxious for an
independent settlement, and the thought of inveigling some woman of
fortune by the charms of his person was still uppermost in his mind.
Among other schemes to this end, there was none he built so much upon
as a very hopeful and grateful plot he had laid for the daughter of his
patroness and benefactress, who had a considerable fortune. But the
young lady’s waiting-maid, who had either more honesty than abigails
in general are furnished with, or had not received the price with which
they are usually rewarded, discovered the affair to the old lady, who
forthwith dismissed Maclaine from her service: but when, in a few
months after, he was much reduced, she privately bestowed upon him
fifty pounds in order to fit him out for Jamaica, where he had proposed
to go and seek his fortune, and where the lady was willing enough that
he should retire, that she might be free from fears on her daughter’s
account.
But Maclaine was no sooner possessed of this sum than he forgot
his Jamaica expedition, and returned to his favorite scheme of
fortune-hunting; for he never could rid himself of the idea that one
day or other he should succeed in the main object of his existence. He
released, therefore, his best clothes from the durance vile in which
they had been plunged, and after various treaties with match-makers
and chambermaids, relating to ladies of great reputed fortune, all
which treaties ended in disappointment, he reluctantly contracted his
ambition, and made suit to the daughter of a considerable innkeeper and
dealer in horses, with whom he was fortunate enough to succeed, and
whom he married with her parents’ consent and five hundred pounds.
Here it would seem that Maclaine had laid aside all thoughts of the
fine gentleman, and had really determined to make the most of his
wife’s fortune by industry and diligence. He took a house in Welbeck
street, and set up a grocer’s and chandler’s shop; was very obliging
to his customers, punctual in his dealings, and while his wife lived,
was esteemed by his neighbors a careful and industrious man. However,
though at times, and while he was in his shop, he appeared to like his
business, yet in parties of pleasure, which he made but too often, and
on holydays, he affected the dress of a gentleman, and thus created
expenses which only a gradual encroachment on his capital enabled him
to meet; insomuch that when his wife died, which was about three years
after their marriage, he resolved to leave off business, and converted
his furniture and goods into the miserable sum of eighty-five pounds,
which, perhaps, with frugality, might have supported him in business,
but which was at all times too small a sum for Mr. Maclaine.
His mother-in-law consenting to take charge of his only daughter, and
once more in a manner a single man, with his eighty-five pounds in
his pocket, again did the desire of appearing the gay fine gentleman
obtrude itself upon his mind, and his old project of marrying a rich
fortune engrossed all his faculties. For this purpose, Mr. Maclaine,
who but a few weeks before was not ashamed to appear in a patched
coat, or to carry a halfpenny-worth of coal or sand to his customers,
now hired handsome apartments near Soho square, and resumed his laced
clothes, and a hat and feather.
But, however unreasonable to others this sudden transition from
the grub to the butterfly might appear, Mr. Maclaine had very good
private reasons for his actions. It appears that during his wife’s
last illness, she had been attended by one Plunket, as a surgeon and
apothecary; this Plunket, after the decease of the poor woman, opened
his mind to Maclaine, saying, that though the latter had lost a good
wife, yet, seeing that she was gone, it was of no use to despond or to
repine, particularly as it might eventually turn out the most lucky
circumstance in his life. He added at the same time, that if Maclaine
would agree to share the fortune with him, he could help him to a lady
with ten thousand pounds at least in her own right.
This motion was too agreeable to Mr. Maclaine to be rejected. It is
hardly necessary to detail with what zeal this affair was followed up,
or how often they flattered themselves with the deceitful prospects of
success. The young lady having been taken to Wells, Maclaine followed
her, passing for a man of fortune, and in every part of his dress and
equipage appearing in that character. Plunket acted as his partner,
and was a sort of under agent, while Maclaine himself was ogling,
dancing, and flirting with the young lady. But an ill-timed quarrel
with an apothecary, one evening, in the public room, placed a quietus
upon his hopes for ever; for the disciple of Galen enlisting a “gallant
son of Mars” in his quarrel, the latter had the effrontery to kick our
adventurer down stairs, declaring publicly that he knew the rascal a
footman a few years ago. This statement, which was believed by every
body present, amongst whom was his mistress, whose credulity he had
ascertained before, and was therefore not in a situation to doubt,
compelled him and his footman Plunket to decamp without the ceremony of
leave-taking, and, indeed, without any ceremony at all.
Returning to town from this woeful expedition, and examining the state
of their cash, these faithful friends discovered that five guineas were
the whole that remained,--a sum too little to support them, or to enter
into any new project, or to keep up their assumed grandeur. Maclaine
now found himself in a worse plight than he had brought himself to
for some years past, without any visible hope of a supply, and yet
engaged in a mode of life highly expensive, which it went to his heart
either to retrench or relinquish. He now thought seriously of embarking
for Jamaica, where he hoped to find employment as an accountant, and
flattered himself that his person might be turned to account amongst
the rich planters’ daughters or widows. But no money was forthcoming
for this purpose, nor could he think of any possible scheme whereby it
might be raised.
Certainly, never had man less cause to complain of Fortune than
Maclaine, and it would seem throughout his life, that she had
determined to make his ruin entirely the work of his own hand, and
leave him at last utterly without excuse or palliation; for meeting
on ’Change with a gentleman, a countryman of his own, to whom he had
formerly related his hopes of making a fortune in the manner we have
related, he told him his situation at the present moment, adding
that he was now undone, that he had spent his all in that unhappy
project, and had not wherewithal to subsist on here, or to carry him
from a place in which he felt he was cutting a very ridiculous figure.
Hereupon the gentleman spoke in his behalf to some others of his
countrymen; and as his conduct heretofore, according the notions of the
age, had been rather imprudent than vicious, they actually raised sixty
guineas to fit him out for Jamaica, which they gave him, promising him
letters of recommendation from some merchants of respectability to
their own correspondents. Here, then, was a prospect at once opened to
him of future happiness and prosperity. Let us see how it terminated.
He had agreed for the passage, paid part of the money in advance, and
bespoken some necessaries fitted for the climate, when, unhappily for
the infatuated man, he was prompted to go to a masquerade, to take
leave, as he said, for the last time, of the bewitching pleasures of
London, and to bid a final farewell to this species of enjoyment,
which he should have no hope of partaking in the West Indies. He went
with the whole of his money in his pocket. The strange appearance of
the place and of the company amused him for a while, but the noise
of the gamesters drew his attention to the gaming-table, where the
quick transition of large sums from one hand to another awakened his
avarice, and lulled his prudence asleep. In short, he ventured, and in
half an hour had possessed himself of a hundred guineas, with which he
resolved, according to their phrase, “to tie up;” but avarice had now
attacked him; and after taking a turn or two round the room, he again
returned, and in a few minutes was stripped to the last guinea.
It is needless to describe his agony on this occasion. His money
gone, his expedition utterly disconcerted, and his friends lost past
redemption! What was now to be done?
In this extremity, his evil genius, now in the ascendant, prompted
him to send to Plunket to advise with and from that moment his ruin
commenced. This was the favorable moment for Plunket. Himself a man
of no honor, an utter stranger to all ties or principles of religion
or honesty, an old sharper, and a daring fellow into the bargain, this
was an opportunity, when his friend was agitated almost to madness, to
propose, at first by distant hints, and at last in plain English, going
on the highway.
Had he approached him in a calm hour, it is more than probable that
his proposal had been rejected with horror; but the former strongly
represented the necessity of a speedy supply before his friends could
discover that his money was gone, which, he said, would expose him
to universal scorn and contempt. A strange infatuation, the dread of
shame--the shame of appearing a fool, diminished the horror of being
a villain, and decided him to recruit his losses by means the most
hazardous and wicked.
Having agreed upon a plan of copartnership, and hired two horses,
Plunket furnishing the pistols, for this was not his first entrance
upon business of that nature, they set out on the evening after the
masquerade, to lie in wait for passengers coming from Smithfield
market. They met on Hounslow heath with a grazier, next morning about
four o’clock, from whom they took, without opposition, between sixty
and seventy pounds.
In this, and other expeditions of the same kind, they wore Venetian
masks; but this covering could not stifle conscience in Maclaine, nor
animate him into courage. He accompanied Plunket, it is true, and was
by at the robbery, but, strictly speaking, had no hand in it; for his
fears were so great that he had no power to utter a word, or to draw a
pistol. The least resistance on the part of the countryman would have
given wings to his heels, and have caused him to leave his more daring
accomplice in the lurch.
Even when the robbery was over, and the countryman out of sight,
Maclaine’s fears were intolerable. He followed Plunket for some miles
without speaking a word; and when they put up at an inn, nearly ten
miles from the place of the robbery, he called for a private room,
fearful of every shadow, and terrified at every sound. His agonies of
mind were so great, that Plunket was fearful that his folly would raise
suspicion in the house, and he would fain have persuaded him to return
immediately to London; but he would not stir till it was dusk, and then
would not appear at the stables from which they had hired the horses,
but left the care of them to Plunket.
He was now, by his share of this ill-acquired booty, very nearly
reimbursed his losses at the masquerade, and might easily have
undertaken his voyage; but he had lost all peace of mind, and was
become entirely void of prudence. So great was his dread of a
discovery, though Plunket represented the impossibility of it, that
he would not stir out of his room for some days, and even then did
not think himself safe, but proposed going down to the country for a
week or two. Plunket did not oppose his departure, especially as he
was to direct the route, and had gotten some intimation of a prize
coming that day from St. Alban’s, towards which place they set out.
When they had gone a few miles, Plunket imparted to him his design,
which Maclaine promised to second, with a great deal of reluctance.
When they came within sight of the coach, in which was their expected
booty, Maclaine would have persuaded Plunket to desist; but the other
turning his qualms of conscience into ridicule, and dropping some hints
of cowardice, Maclaine prepared for the attack, crying, “He needs must
whom the devil drives. I am over shoes, and must over boots;” but,
notwithstanding, conducted himself in so distracted a manner as went
nigh to lose them their prey. They took, however, from a gentleman and
a lady in the coach two gold watches, and about twenty pounds in money,
with which they got clear off; but did not think fit to keep that road
any longer, but turned off, and before morning put up at an inn at
Richmond, where Maclaine was as much in the horrors as in London; had
no rest, no peace of mind, and stayed there two or three days, sulky,
sullen, and perplexed as to what course he was to pursue. His wish,
however, to be in town in time for the ship’s departure for Jamaica,
determined him to return to London in a fortnight, when he found that
the ship had sailed two days before,--a disappointment that added to
his former perplexity. Nevertheless, having money in his pocket, he
contrived to excuse himself to his friends for his untoward absence,
and promised, and seriously designed, to set out on the very next
opportunity.
But the expensive company he kept in the interim, and further losses
at play, once more stripped him of his money; and his evil genius,
Plunket, was ever at his elbow, ready to suggest the former method of
supply, with which he now complied much less reluctantly than before.
The bounds of honor once overstepped, especially when success and
security attend the villany, the habit of vice grows strong; and the
checks of conscience, gradually less regarded, at length pass without
notice. In a word, Maclaine hardened himself by degrees to villany,
left the company of his city acquaintance that they might not tease him
about his voyage to Jamaica, and took lodgings in St. James street, a
place excellently suited to his purpose, for his appearance glanced off
all suspicion, and he had a favorable opportunity, when gentlemen came
to town, of knowing and watching their motions, and consequently of
following and waylaying them on the road.
In the space of six months, he and Plunket, sometimes in company and
sometimes separately, committed fifteen or sixteen robberies in Hyde
Park, and within twenty miles of London, and obtained some large
prizes. But still the money went as it came, for Plunket loved his
bottle and intrigue, and Maclaine was doatingly fond of fine clothes,
balls, and masquerades, at all which places he made a conspicuous
figure. As he still had fortune-hunting in view, he was very assiduous
in his attentions to women, and was not altogether unsuccessful; but,
we imagine, made sincere return to none but such as had money in their
own hands, or could be useful in helping him to an introduction to such
as had.
And here it were needless and not productive of much interest to
recount several intrigues in which Maclaine was engaged, and it were
not a little painful to narrate two instances of wanton seduction on
his part, which, were there no other counts in the moral indictment
against him, would be sufficient to consign him to eternal infamy.
Mr. Maclaine applied himself also to his old profession of
fortune-hunting, and, in company with his old and worthy coadjutor
Plunket, made several attempts to entrap heiresses, all of which proved
abortive. While he was intent upon these schemes, he had no opportunity
of making excursions on the road, and to defray his expenses had
borrowed from a citizen’s wife, with whom he had an intrigue, about
twenty pounds, which he promised faithfully to repay before her husband
should return from the country. The time of the citizen’s arrival being
at hand, the good wife became exceedingly curious about the coin;
and as a similar favor might be wanted by him at a future time, Mr.
Maclaine made it a point of conscience to keep his word with her, and
appointed her to come to him at his country lodgings at Chelsea, where
he paid her the money. He, however, took care that his friend Plunket
should ease her of the trouble of carrying it home, by waylaying her in
the Five-fields.
Soon after this, a supply of cash being wanted, Plunket and he prepared
for an expedition, and took the road to Chester; and in three days
committed five robberies between Stony Stratford and Whitechurch, one
of which was upon an intimate acquaintance, by whom Maclaine had been
handsomely entertained but two days before. However, the booty in the
whole five robberies did not amount to thirty pounds in cash, but they
had watches, rings, &c. to a much greater amount. On the very evening
of their return to town, they obtained information that an officer in
the East India company’s service had received a large sum of money,
with which he was about to return to Greenwich. They waylaid and
robbed him of a very considerable sum, and it would seem that on this
occasion they were under some dread of a discovery; for, in a few days
after the commission of it, Maclaine set out for the Hague, and Plunket
for Ireland.
On the arrival of the former at the Hague, he pretended a friendly
visit to his brother, who received him with cordiality and affection,
and as honesty is never suspicious, he was easily induced to give
credit to the specious tale which his brother related to him. He told
him that he had got a considerable fortune with his late wife, and that
her father, who died some few months before, had left him a valuable
legacy, with which he designed to purchase a company in the army. Upon
that, and the interest of his other funds, he said, he hoped to live at
ease for the remainder of his life. His worthy brother, rejoicing in
his prosperity, introduced him to his acquaintance and friends, amongst
whom Mr. Maclaine behaved with great politeness, giving balls and large
parties; to pay for which, it is surmised, he had the art to extract
the gold watches and purses of his guests without suspicion.