Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold
text by =equal signs=.
THE
ADVENTURES
OF A
BLACK COAT.
CONTAINING
A SERIES of Remarkable Occurrences
and entertaining Incidents,
That it was a Witness to in its Peregrinations
through the Cities of London and
Westminster, in Company with Variety of
Characters.
As related by ITSELF.
Qui mores hominum multorum vidit. HOR.
DUBLIN:
Printed for ROBERT BELL, Bookseller
and Auctioneer, at his great Auction-Rooms
on _Cork-Hill_, opposite to _Lucas’s
Coffee-House_. M DCC LXII.
[Price sewed 1s. 1d. bound 1s. 8d.]
[Illustration]
THE
[Illustration: PREFACE.]
The necessity which custom has intailed upon authors, of prefixing
an apology to their performances, makes it requisite for me to say
something on introducing the following sheets to the public; and as
long prefaces are in general of little estimation amongst the readers
of books of entertainment, I will trespass as little upon their
patience as possible.
To excite virtue, depress vice, and ridicule folly, is as much the
business of the Novelist, as it is the design of the Drama; and though
the former cannot, like the dramatic-writer, represent his scenes to
the _Senses_, yet it is in his power to set his characters in such a
light, as to strike the _Minds_ of his readers, in a very forcible
manner, with the virtues he would have them imitate, or the errors he
would wish them to amend.—But our present novel-writers seem to have
little else in view than to amuse their readers; or, if they have any
design to instruct them, they _gild_ the pill so very thick, that all
its latent good qualities are destroyed, or its effects prevented. To
mix pleasure with instruction, is certainly the most efficacious method
a writer can take, to render his labours agreeable to his readers.
All I shall say of the following _petit_ performance is, that I have
endeavoured to make the _Author_ less conspicuous than the _moral_.
If a blush should arise on the cheek of conscious vice, or a sense
of shame be awakened in the bosom of folly, on perusing any of the
characters exhibited in this performance, my intentions will be
answered, and there are hopes that such are not incurable. In this
age of _Magazines_ and _Chronicles_, the _Cacoethes Scribendi_ hath
infected the town so much, that almost every _shop_, or _work-room_,
harbours an author; and _gentlemen_ of the _file_, now leave their
more useful labour at the _vice_, and toil to _polish periods_. When
such _gentlemen_ assume the pen, I hope it will not be deemed vanity,
if I decline standing as candidate for literary fame, and declare
myself not desirous of sharing with them the _honours_ that may be
bestowed on their labours: but though I profess myself careless of
fame, I am not callous to contempt; and should be pleased to hear
critics say, that though the _performance_ claims no panegyric, yet
the _design_ of it merits some praise.
Politicians will find nothing in this little work that will gratify
their malevolence, nor has my pen been employed to paragon the wisdom
of the present ministry.—In short, state affairs is not the subject
of the following pages; neither have I drawn upon myself the enmity of
so large and respectable a body as the clergy, by invading the rich
province of religion.
But not to detain my readers any longer, nor awaken their entertainment
by anticipating their expectations, I now refer them to the performance
itself, if they should not be prejudiced against it, by deeming what
they have here read as _blossoms of weeds_.
[Illustration]
THE
ADVENTURES
OF A
BLACK COAT.
A Sable coat, whose venerable rents confest a life of business, and
a length of years, long had hung sole tenant of a wardrobe; till a
gay white coat with care was ushered in, and laid at decent length:
when lo! with mortal voice, and sounds articulate, Sable was thus
heard to address the stranger: “Thy presence, spark, warns me of my
approaching dissolution; but when I cast a retrospect over my former
life, and behold thy native purity and unblemished form, I cannot but
pity the many and various misfortunes thou art, in all probability
heir to.”—To whom, White, “And when I behold thy queer shape and
rustic aspect, I cannot but return thy pity, and offer up my prayers
against longevity.”—Sable replied, “Boy, know that the depredations of
time, and the unseemly appearance of industry, are not proper subjects
of ridicule: were it possible thou couldst foresee the train of
misfortunes, which in the course of thy existence, and revolutions of
thy fortune, thou will be subject to, that gay and happy mien would be
changed to a gloomy and melancholy aspect.” Here White bowed humility,
craved the sages pardon, and supplicated his advice in the conduct of
his life. Sable, finding it a coat of manners, and pleased with the
deference paid to his importance, thus answered, “To give advice is
easy, but to profit by it is difficult; I will therefore (if thou hast
patience to listen) rehearse to thee the vicissitudes of my fortune,
from my first formation to this time, so that thou may’st profit by
my misfortunes, and learn to bear thy lot, (whate’re it may be) with
patience and resignation; and believe me thou wilt have occasion for
philosophy.” White politely expressing his desire to be informed of
the sage’s life, he thus proceeded: When I contemplate the scenes I
have experienced, and meditate on the vile schemes I have been obliged
to countenance in those whose sole merit and reputation on arose from
my close attachment to them, my very threads blush at the indignity.
Here Sable was heard to sigh most piteously, and White, ’tis thought,
laughed in his sleeve. After a pause of some minutes—Sable thus opened
the relation of his adventures.
The death of a late Princess was the æra of my formation, at which
time I was called to this state as a symbol of sorrow, (formed by
R ——’s skillful hand) for the use of a commoner of distinguished
abilities. With him, in the senate-house, have I seen the best heads
have the worst hearts, and fallacious eloquence silence truth, when
delivered in simplicity of language: but being naturally of a volatile
disposition, this life of idleness, for it was seldom I appeared in
public, grew irksome to me, and I languished to see the world. My
wishes were at length gratified; the limited time of mourning being
expired, I was disposed of to a favorite domestic, who soon after, for
a small consideration, consigned me over to Mr. ——, a merchant in
Monmouth-Street.
Here properly I may say I began to exist; my heart dilated with joy
at the prospect of seeing life, and associating with the various
characters that visit this place.
I was soon introduced by my new owner to the class of _occasional
gentleman_, each of whom I had the mortification to see frequently
depart from our prison of dust and moths, and enjoy liberty and fresh
air; many objecting to me on account of my size, which was then far
above the common, though now, as you may see, below it, having lately
been curtailed by the degrading scissars of a botcher, and refused
by more from my colour. At length an Irish footman, after being
disappointed by the whole class of _Beaus_, who were not equal to his
Herculean breadth of shoulders, determined to appear in a character of
gravity, and sallied forth with me on his back.
Various were my conjectures where this enterprizing genius was carrying
me, nor was I quite free from fear of receiving stripes, from the
temerity of my adventurer; for I concluded it was not an expedition
squared by the rules of right altogether; especially as many of our
community frequently brought home with them marks of various disasters,
sometimes being dragged through a horse-pond, at other times rolled in
a kennel, besides numberless canings and kickings, and were generally
afterwards delivered over to the inhumanity of a scowerer, who
impaired us more, with the variety of brushes he tormented us with,
than a whole year of service.
But I was surprized, and not a little pleased, when I found this bold
spark knock at the door of one of the managers of the theatres; the
door being opened, this worthy member of the party-coloured society,
was introduced to the manager, and my fears of a drubbing subsided.
The ceremony of salutation being ended, my conductor was desired to
open his business, which he did, with a genuine Munster accent, in
the following words, as near as I can remember;—“Sir, finding myself
_capacitated_ to appear upon the stage from my _internal_ figure, and
other qualifications, I am come to offer you the _refusal_ of me, in
_deference_ to the other house.” The manager expressed his thanks for
the favour he intended him, and requested him to name the characters
he thought he was the most capable to perform. “Look you, Mr. ——,”
says this Hibernian Roscius, “let us first settle the sallary you are
willing to give me, for ’tis not my way to take a _certainty_ for an
_uncertainty_.” The manager remonstrated that it was impossible to
offer any sallary before he was acquainted with his merit.—Our hero
replied, “Why there is Mr. ——, I think I am not _superior_ to him in
any thing, and he has, I am told, 1000l. a year; therefore I would not
ask more for the first year.”—1000l. a year, (replied the manager)
may not be equal to your merit; Mr. —— is a favourite of the town,
and that is one reason of his being paid so much.—“By the almighty
heavens! exclaimed the Munster hero, I shall be as great a favourite as
he, with all the ladies soon, for I am as well proportioned a man as
he is, and I don’t care a fig for him.”—Upon my word, Sir, says the
manager, I believe you wou’d beat him; but Sir, I believe you have made
a small mistake.—As how?—replied the Hibernian genius,—Why Sir,
you have mistaken the house, Mr. Broughton lives in the Hay-market,
where, if you will give yourself the trouble to call upon him, you may
perhaps meet with encouragement on his amphitheatre,—“Why you little
_Crature_, replied Teague, I have a great mind to take satisfaction
upon your small bones.—But here the manager prudently made his exit,
and left the enraged footman to his soliloquy, who, after venting many
execrations and threatnings, left the house, and marched with me to my
old habitation, where being arrived, he sullenly disrobed himself, and
with a curse threw me on the floor, then put on his accustomed garb,
adorned with the _insignia_ of his profession, and issued forth with
hasty strides, to attend the humble duties of his station.
This my first adventure was not over-pleasing to me; however, I
consoled myself with reflecting, that I was seeing characters and life,
for which I had a longing desire that seemed implanted in my nature;
and though I am sensible no coat of prudence ought to cherish such a
desire, yet, at the same time, I am certain, much useful knowledge may
be drawn from observing the various characters that are to be met with
in this metropolis. But to proceed:
Three months I lingered in dull apathy and close imprisonment; (which
to a coat of such a volatile spirit as I was then, was worse than
total dissolution, or the tormenting needle of a botcher, than which
nothing was half so dreadful to me) thrice a week indeed a general
review was made of our company, and every one cleansed with cane
and brush from moths and dust. But now a young gentleman of a most
graceful appearance, ordered me to be tried upon him. I was fearful
of being something too large, but the desire I had to accompany this
agreeable youth, made me contract every thread to clasp him; and I so
far succeeded, that he seemed equally pleased with me as I with him. In
short, we soon left the neighbourhood of St. Giles’s, and with genteel
deportment he conducted me towards the court-end of the town, each, if
I may be allowed to say so much in my own praise, lending grace to the
other.
Being arrived near St. James’s (after traversing the park once or
twice, during which I could discover great anxiety of mind in my
conductor; and feel his heart throb with great force) he stopt at a
house that bespoke the owner to be a man of distinction, and being
entered the hall, he enquired if his lordship was to be spoke with;
being answered in the affirmative, he was immediately waited upon up
stairs, and introduced into a spacious room, which was almost filled
with gentlemen who were waiting for his lordship: from the time of his
entering the house I found his heart beat with stronger emotions,
from whence I concluded he was near some important period; I soon
discovered the _major domo_ was a minister in a certain department,
and that this was his lordship’s levee;—It was near an hour before
his lordship appeared; during this time, I employed myself in an
endeavour to discover, from the physiognomy of the persons present,
the various expectations that might be traced in each countenance;
doubt of success seemed to be predominant in the assembly, and so much
was every one engaged in a tacit conversation betwixt himself and
his lordship, that for the greatest part of the time a total silence
prevailed. At length the doors flew open, and the minister’s coming
was announced.—The peer entered, and with great dignity bowed to his
dependants, who returned the salute with humble reverence. His lordship
spoke to each with a mild affability, as they stood in rotation,
and procrastinating the desires of his dependants, seemed to be the
general benefit conferred upon the company. At last it came to be my
conductor’s turn to address the peer, which he did in the following
words, but something inarticulate from his extreme modesty—I beg
permission to acquaint your lordship that it is this day two years
since I had the honour to be put upon your lordship’s list, to be
employed in an office your lordship should appoint, in the embassy to
the court of Spain, in consequence of an application to your lordship
from the honourable Mr. ——. Why Sir, replied the minister, I do
remember something of Mr. —— applying to me in your favour, and ’tis
probable I might then put you upon my list, but I can never think it
is two years since.—I would not, return’d the youth, impose upon your
lordship, nor assert a falsity. Pray Sir, rejoined the peer, did you
ever apply to me since the first application? My lord, answered the
young gentleman, I have attended your lordship’s levee constantly once
a month since, and should oftener, but was fearful of being troublesome
to your lordship—Do you understand Spanish and the other requisites
for such a station, Sir? says the peer—My lord, urged my companion,
permit me to say, it is now more than a twelvemonth since your lordship
pointed out to me the necessary qualifications, and permit me also to
add, my lord, that I have dissipated my small fortune, in attaining
those qualifications, and rendering myself equal to the service, so
that I might not disgrace your lordship’s choice.—I am sorry, returned
his lordship, that it is not in my power to serve you, for all the
employments have been disposed of some time ago.—I hope your lordship,
replied the astonished youth, will serve me some other way, as a
recompence for my loss of time and the injury my fortune has suffered,
by your lordship’s unhappily forgetting me.—I don’t remember, says,
the absent peer, that I recommended you to lay out your money in any
thing about this affair; but if I did, I suppose I then intended to
appoint you, but it is now too late Sir, and I wou’d advise you to
think of something else.—I should presume, says the unfortunate youth,
on your lordship’s knowledge that it has cost me upwards of 200l. in
qualifying myself, agreeable to your lordship’s order, your lordship,
out of humanity, wou’d favour me with something that might retrieve
my shattered fortune—What you understand the Spanish language, Sir?
says his lordship.—Perfectly, replied the alarmed youth. Why then,
returned the peer, you have the advantage of me, and may receive ample
satisfaction, in reading the history of Don Quixote in the original
language, and with that piece of wit, he politely took his leave of
our thunderstruck youth, who on recollecting himself exclaimed, Æsop’s
fable of the boys and frogs is here fatally exemplified, what is sport
to him, is death to me—and instantly departed, bending his steps
towards the Bird-Cage walk in the Park, where sitting upon a bench
he passed two hours in silent meditation, but at length rousing from
his melancholy reverie, with a start that put every thread of me to
the proof, he took the resolution of entering as a private soldier
in the guards, and hoped that while he might be upon duty under the
cruel minister’s window, the reflection that he had drove him to that
course of life for bread, might if his soul was not callous to every
sensation, make him feel the pangs of wantonly ruining a man who
had never injured him. Thus resolved, he hastened with me to my old
habitation, where leaving me, he fled, as I suppose, to execute his
ill-fated purpose.
After undergoing the press for some hours, on my return, (a custom we
were all subject to, the frequency of which I may say was the chief
cause of my early decay) I indulged myself in reflecting on the days
adventure, which led me naturally to contemplate on the many young
people who quit a life of industry and competence, and pursue the
phantom of hope, through the various mazes of misery she wantonly
leads them; stimulated at first perhaps by choice, but at length are
forced to persevere through necessity, and how oft does she lead these
unhappy men to total destruction; seating herself in the mid ocean
and beckoning to her followers, who seldom have the power to see
the distance she is from the shore, or perceive the whirlpools that
intervene, but keeping their eye fixed upon her, plunge in and are
lost! But, continued the sage, I fear I am rather troublesome, than
entertaining to you. I beg returned the gay spark, you will make no
apology, for I am very far from thinking your observations will be
the least entertaining part of your narration—Sable replied, young
gentleman, I believe you speak ingenuously, and am pleased I have an
opportunity, before I leave this miserable state, of communicating any
thing that may hereafter be of service to one who appears so deserving
of it.—White politely thanked him for the compliment, and Sable thus
proceeded in the relation of his adventures.
It was not long ere I was again summoned to the duties of my station,
by a tall _genteelish_ kind of a person, who ordered me to be tryed
upon him, and I was engaged by him for the day. Notwithstanding I
thought myself a tolerable good physiognomist, yet the appearance
and deportment of this stranger caused my fancy (that weathercock of
judgment) to vary so often, that it was impossible for me to fix any
criterion: he had much the air of a gentleman, but his gentility seemed
a kind of a habit, that he had acquired since he came to years of
maturity, and appeared to be only superficial, from the effect of close
observation, rather than the air and grace which naturally results
from the manners being property cultivated and corrected in youth.—In
short he was altogether a contradiction, and intirely conquered my
sagacity, which greatly added to the natural desire I had of proving
the adventure.
It was in the morning that my unknown conductor took me through the
busy streets into the city, and entering a coffee-house, near the
Exchange, almost filled with company, he spent some time before he
could resolve where to seat himself; at length he determined on a
place, which, to me, appeared the most inconvenient one in the room, it
being in a box that was already almost full; here he breakfasted and
read the papers, but seemed more intent upon remarking the company,
than on the news of the day. We stayed here about an hour, when my
conductor rose up, and taking a gentleman’s hat instead of his own,
was leaving the room. As soon as the owner observed the mistake, on
acquainting him with it, he asked the gentleman pardon, and at the
same time informed him, that he was so extremely near-sighted, that
without the help of his glass, (which he had unfortunately left at
home) he was continually mistaking; the gentleman begged he would make
no apology, as every man was liable to mistake; shortly after he took
an opportunity to go away without paying for his breakfast, which made
me conclude he had likewise unfortunately left his memory at home. This
caused me to reflect that I was very indifferently situated in being
obliged to accompany a man that went into company without either eyes
or memory, and I must own I began not to half like the prospect of this
adventure.—Soon after leaving this coffee-room, he went into another,
where seating himself as before, he drank a dish of chocolate, and on
his leaving the place, his eyesight again failed him, and he mistook
another gentleman’s hat for his own again, and went off with it without
interruption or paying for his chocolate: this second mistake alarmed
me greatly, fearing lest the owner of the hat should be in pursuit of
us, who possibly might not shew so much regard for the infirmity of my
conductor as the other gentleman had, or not entertain so favourable
an opinion of his veracity, especially as the difference in value
of the hat, was greatly in favour of this near-sighted spark, which
circumstance I observed in the preceding mistake likewise; but my
fears ceased, when coming into Corn-hill I heard him call a coach,
and stepping in, ordered the coachman to drive to Covent Garden, but
in Fleet-street he ordered him to stop in middle Temple-lane, and
to set him down at a certain door there, on the coach stopping at
the place appointed, he ordered the coachman to wait, and I imagined
that he was calling upon his lawyer, but found he only went through
a public office, which opened into two different places and was used
as a thoroughfare. Having passed the other door, he very leisurely
walk’d across the court, and so into Fleet-street, and from thence,
without stopping, he conducted me to the piazza’s, Covent Garden.
This extraordinary absence of thought in leaving the coachman to wait
for him, when it appeared evident he did not intend to return to him,
created some reflections in me that did not end greatly in his favour;
nor did they leave me in great tranquillity, for my mind run now upon
nothing but horseponds, duckings, and kickings, which I had heard my
companions speak of suffering, and which I knew I must chiefly sustain,
should any instance of his infirmities terminate unfavourable—But
to return, being arrived in the piazza’s in Covent Garden, as I
mentioned before, from thence we ascended a pair of stairs, and I
found myself in a room amidst a great number of very genteel people,
some of whom were of the first fashion; I soon perceived it was an
auction-room; then my fears began to operate upon me least some of my
gentleman’s faculties should again fail him, and the ill consequence
I dreaded would fall upon me; but every thing remained quiet for a
considerable time; at length a chaised-watch, by Tompion, was put up,
which I found had a very strong effect upon my adventurer, though I
could not devise the cause, for as I knew he had not sixpence about
him, I could not conceive he intended to bid for it; as the bidders
advanced he became more anxious, marking every one who bid, very
strictly.—In the conclusion a certain nobleman, who is observed to
attend these kind of sales with great punctuality, bid 80 guineas, and
was knocked down the best bidder, and the watch set down to Lord ——.
My adventurous spark now seemed calm and determined, and instantly
quitting the room, went into a tavern near; where ordering a bottle
of Madeira, and pen and ink, he took from his pocket a message-card
and wrote as follows—“The earl of —— seeing lord ——’s equipage
standing at ——’s auction-room door, begs the favour of his lordship’s
company at —— for a moment.—Having just received an accident upon
my right hand ——s writes this to you, and promises to take it to
your lordship himself.”—Having wrote this he orders the master of
the tavern to attend him, who being come, our spark, after splitting
the card, and securing the writing by a wafer, told him he should be
much obliged to him if he would take that card to lord —— at ——’s
auction: the landlord assured him he would, but, adds, this cautious
genius, deliver it to —— the auctioneer, and he will hand it to his
lordship: —— promised to obey his orders punctually; the landlord
being gone, my companion, after recruiting his spirits with a glass
of wine, immediately decamps, leaving orders to acquaint lord ——
he would return before his lordship could be seated, and immediately
goes and posts himself in a place where he could see his lordship
come from the auction-room: very short was his stay before he saw his
lordship, attended by the landlord, step into the chariot, and drive to
the tavern; our bold youth was as good as his word, and followed his
lordship into the room before he was well seated, and told him that the
earl of —— was “just drove into the next street, and had ordered him
to wait upon his lordship with an apology for leaving the room, but
that he would be with him in an instant.” This excuse delivered with a
good grace by a seeming gentleman, satisfied his lordship, and seating
himself, our hero took his leave of his lordship, and going to the bar,
told —— the landlord, that he must go to —— the auctioneer, and
tell him, “that lord —— desired him to send the watch he had lately
purchased by him, as he just wanted to shew it to the earl of ——”.
Away goes the landlord and acquaints the auctioneer with his lordship’s
desire; the auctioneer knowing the landlord, and seeing the lord ——
go out with him just before, made no hesitation, but delivers him the
watch, who on meeting my gentleman at the door, put it into his hand,
and he flipping it into his coat-pocket, again goes into his lordship,
and telling him “the earl of —— begged his patience a few minutes
longer, as he had now just finished the affair he was upon, and hoped
he would stay, as he had something to acquaint him with that would
surprise him very much”. His lordship answered it was very well; upon
which our sharper left his lordship to wonder what it could be that
would surprize him so much, and I make no doubt but in a short time he
was greatly surprized.
The planning of this artifice continued Sable, gave me a high opinion
of our sharper’s ingenuity, and the dexterity with which he conducted
it, entirely removed all my fears of any accident happening to us.
After this successful exploit, he walked through a few streets and
then took a coach, ordering the coachman to drive to a tavern near
the Exchange in the city; by this method he eluded the vigilance of
a pursuit, which he imagined must succeed his lordship’s discovering
the imposition, and which no doubt was in a very short time after sent
forth.
Being arrived at the tavern he ordered the coachman to take his money
at the bar, and was shewn into a very handsome room; he immediately
ordered a genteel dinner consisting of five dishes, and ordered two
courses, saying he expected a gentleman to dine with him, and ordered
if any one enquired for Sir —— to shew him in; but I should have
mentioned to you that as the coach was passing by the Temple, he
ordered one of the porters who ply there, to take a card which he had
been writing upon in the coach, to the very tavern he had ordered the
coachman to drive to, with strict orders for the porter to be there
with it by 5 o’clock; this card was directed to the knight whose name
and title he had now assumed.—By the time he imagined dinner was
ready, he rang and ordered the cook not to spoil the dinner, but when
it was ready to bring it in, saying he would not wait a minute for
the king in prejudice to the skill of the cook,—whom he ordered to
take a pint of wine at the bar. Dinner being ended, and the cloath
removed, champain and burgundy were ordered, and he sat very composedly
entertaining himself in mediating on the labour of the great Tompion,
and from thence took occasion to descant on his own ingenuity, which
he justly boasted was not inferior to that famous artist, though it
run in a different channel: at the hour of five the waiter entered
with a card for Sir —— on which was wrote these words “Lord ——’s
compliments to Sir ——, asks ten thousand pardons for not attending
him at dinner as appointed; begs Sir ——, will not go till he comes,
which will not exceed half an hour.” The card was purposely wrote upon
to the view of every one, which added dignity to our new-made knight’s
former consequence, and ordering the porter to be discharged at the
bar, he sat a few minutes; when ringing the bell he ordered the waiter
to tell his master to come to him, who soon appearing, he desired
him to sit and fill a glass of wine, and entering into a familiar
conversation with him, in a short time enquired if there was ever a
shop near where he could purchase a gold chain to his watch, and at the
same time produced the property of lord ——, which being in a neat
shagreen box, looked at a distance like a shagreen case; the vintner
being willing to oblige a neighbour, told him he could recommend a
dealer in those things, who had great choice, and lived only in the
next street.—Our knight begg’d he would send for him, with orders to
bring some watch chains with him: the vintner immediately dispatched a
waiter to the person who soon arrived with a box, and producing some
very curious watch chains, my gentleman at last fixed upon one, which
came to 5l. 1s. The spark offered him four for it, but the tradesman
being a quaker, told him he never asked more than he intended to take,
but however he was still offered 4l. 1s. and the tradesman refusing
was dismissed.—In five minutes the sharper rang for the master of the
tavern, and told him what had passed, adding he greatly liked the
chain, and would purchase it, but should take it as a favour if he
would go to the man, and see if he could not get it for the money, but
if not to bring it with him, and at the same time desired he would tell
the tradesman to bring a cornelian seal with a Homer’s head for the
impression; away went the landlord, and soon after brought the chain
with him, but told our genius he could not prevail upon him to take
any thing less than he had asked; that he had never a cornelian with a
Homer, but had sent to a friend in the next street who he believed had
one, and he would bring him word in ten minutes: during the landlord’s
absence, this ingenious gentleman had taken out the watch and left
the shagreen box upon the shelf over the fire-place, in full view of
the landlord, who might suppose it was the real watch. Upon looking
at the chain, the spark pretended it was not the same he had shewn
him before, the landlord told him it was possible he might mistake by
candle-light, and offered to go and change it—but the sharper said he
would go himself, as he had some suspicion the quaker had a mind to
impose upon him, and saying the watch he supposed would be safe upon
the shelf, went out of the room, and the landlord shutting the door,
told him he would take care no body should come in during his absence.
Our successful sharper now bent his course to Cheapside with all
speed, leaving the shagreen box to pay the vintner his reckoning, and
the quaker for his watch chain.
The luxuriancy of my ingenious conductor’s invention in the progress of
this adventure astonished me greatly, but I’ll forbear to trouble you
with my reflections now, and hasten with him to the play-house.
Being arrived in Cheapside, he takes a coach and orders himself to
be drove to the Rose in Bridges-street Covent Garden, and the coach
stopping at the door the coachman descended to let him out, but was
ordered to go into the tavern and enquire if Mr. —— was in the
house; the enquiry through every room he knew must take up some
minutes, and give him time to let himself out at the other side of
the coach, which he effected with great privacy and expedition, and
immediately set forward for Covent Garden play-house, taking his way
up Bow-street, purposely avoiding, as I apprehended, the scene of his
morning adventure.—Here Sable was interrupted in his narrative, by the
arrival of his owner, who brought in with Him an old cloaths-man, and
handing the black narrator down delivered him to this new vamper of old
commodities; who after perusing him with great attention and sagacity,
shaking his head declared he could not give any thing for it, adding,
“it had been so much used, it would not hold together for a single
day’s wear”; and as for repairing it, he said it was impossible from
the rottenness of it, nor could it be converted into patches, as in
fact, he said, it consisted of nothing else but patches; and returning
it to the owner, desired him to keep it as a curiosity, swearing he
never saw such a thing in his life: upon this Sable was once more
conducted to the wardrobe, and hung on the peg he had been removed from.
Sable (half recovered from his fright) soon was heard to utter
these words.—My loved companion, and adopted son, indulge me a few
minutes to recover my breath.—White with great tenderness, begged
he would make no apology, for though he was exceeding anxious to know
what had caused the fright he was in, he would not think of being
gratified till he was perfectly recovered—after a few minutes pause
the frighted veteran thus broke forth.—Where is the philosophy, the
calm resignation, I fancied I could meet my last hour with? alas! I
find I have learned nothing that is worth retaining, since I have
not learned to bear the near approach of my dissolution without
trembling; why should I wish to exist, or linger in this decayed and
miserable state, when the momentary shock of death is succeeded by a
total annihilation?—Here White interrupting him, begged to know the
cause of such sad reflections. My son, returned Sable, bear with the
infirmities of age; the frequency of contemplating on death, believe
me, greatly lessens its terrors:—the danger is now over, and my fears
are subsided—. Here Sable recounted his late adventure with the dealer
in old cloaths,—which having concluded, he proceeded in the relation
of the many and surprizing changes of fortune—(But here, reader, lest
thou should imagine this digression from the chain of adventures as
related by our Black Hero, is an artifice calculated to extend this
work, and that no such interruption ever happened, but what was made
by ourselves, on purpose to eke out this part of our performance, we
do assure thee, that nothing but sacred truth obliged us to relate it,
and which we shall at all times think ourselves bound in justice to
do; therefore, courteous reader, if thou shouldst meet in the progress
of this entertaining history, with instances of a similar nature, we
advise thee not to pronounce them fiction; for were we inclined to
enlarge this performance, the bare recital of numberless minutes,
which we have and shall suppress, would extend it to volumes; and if
thou will favour us with thy company to the end of this work, thou
wilt find such little arts were needless, the sage’s narrative alone
affording us ample matter for thy entertainment, and which thou may’st
find faithfully recorded in the following pages—The sharper, resumed
Sable, being arrived at the play-house, and going to the box-door,
he overtook a company of ladies and gentlemen, who were going into
the house, and stepping before them, ordered the box-keeper to open
the door, saying the servant belonging to the company would pay for
all—the box-keeper seeing the company behind, imagined our spark of
the party, therefore without hesitation lets him in: as soon as he
was within he posts himself in such a manner as to hear what passed
at the box-door without being seen, the company being come up were
surprized to find themselves charged with one more than they knew of,
and disowning acquaintance with my adventurer, refused to pay for him;
the box-keeper not having time to go in search of him then, ordered
an under box-keeper to look sharp for him as he came out; our spark
hearing this seemed very well satisfied—which was much more than I
was—and after going from box to box, he at length seated himself in
one of the corner green boxes, in which was only an old gentleman; but
on the latter account our number was encreased by the addition of two
ladies of the town, and two gentlemen—the sharper prudently sat as far
back in the box as he could, to avoid being seen, I concluded.—The
entertainment being ended, and the company preparing to depart, to
my amazement, this bold adventurer seizes a red rocqueleau that was
hung in the box, and was going to put it on—when the old gentleman
told him, with great politeness, he fancied he had made a mistake,
for the rocqueleau belonged to him.—The sharper, with astonishing
effrontery, replyed, by your leave, Sir, ’tis you that mistake, for
the rocqueleau is mine.—Your rocqueleau? returned the gentleman,
indeed it is, replied this son of impudence. Sir, says the stranger,
as you have the appearance of a gentleman, I cannot think you mean any
thing more than a jest; but let me tell you, Sir, added he, I am not
used to be treated so with impunity.—Sir, returned the sharper, it
is not my custom to jest with men of your appearance, nor do I expect
such treatment from you.—Why sure, says the gentleman, you will not
pretend to persuade me seriously that this is not my rocqueleau? That
this rocqueleau is mine, Sir, says my companion, I do aver, and will
maintain my property,—adding this is the strangest piece of impudence
that ever was practised.—Indeed, says the gentleman, so it is, if
you pretend to say this is your rocqueleau, when I brought it in, and
hung it up before you came.—The sharper alledged he brought it in,
and hung it up on his coming in.—This strange dispute whose property
the rocqueleau was, created much mirth in the ladies and gentlemen
in the box, but created far different sensations in me, who saw no
possibility of our hero’s maintaining his assertion with any credit,
consequently there was little probability of my escaping a horse-pond,
or some such dire mishap, especially as I saw the old gentleman begin
to wax warm.—But to proceed,—the owner of the rocqueleau persisted in
claiming it, and the sharper as strongly insisted on its being his—in
conclusion, my ingenious companion asked him, if he could point out any
mark or any thing whereby it might be determined by the company that
it was his.—The gentleman replied, he knew of no mark upon it, for
that it was never on his back before that afternoon, being quite new;
upon that my gentleman exclaimed Amazement! that a man of your years
should undertake to play the sharper with no other abilities than bare
impudence.—Zounds, returned the strange gentleman, you are a sharper,
and since you talk of marks, by what mark do you know it—let us see
how you will prove it to be yours—make that appear, Sir, exulting
and appealing to the company, who yet could not tell what to make of
the affair, sometimes inclining one way, and sometimes another.—Why,
Sir, says the impostor, I would have come to that at first, but that
I was willing to see what ingenious device you would make use of to
support your unjust pretensions; but as I see you take advantage of
the coolness of my temper, and confidently think to bully me out
of my property, I will submit to the company to determine whom the
rocqueleau belongs to, and, continues he, I believe I shall put an end
to the dispute very shortly to your confusion; and then turning to
the company, told them if the rocqueleau was his there were two X’s
marked in the inside near the bottom: the gentlemen looked and found
two X’s mark’d in the place our ingenious sharper had directed.—The
old gentleman stood petrified with amazement—but recovering himself,
swore still the rocqueleau was his, but how those damned X’s came there
he could not tell.—The rocqueleau being adjudged the property of our
hero, he now put it on, telling the old gentleman, his age should
protect him from punishment, and advised him to leave off a profession
he seemed unable to succeed in. The gentleman knowing the rocqueleau
was his, still urged strongly he brought it in with him, and that it
was his.—The ladies now began to revile him,—whom he treated in very
free terms; the gentlemen stood up for their doxies, and the loser of
the rocqueleau had no friends, but abused every one in the box with
being accomplices in robbing him; upon which the ladies fell upon him,
and seizing his large powered wig, boxed him about the face with it
till he was almost blind, and then flinging it into the pit, among the
people who were gathered under the box with the noise that began to
be made, the old gentleman’s full-bottom was soon disposed of as well
as his rocqueleau.—Our adventurer took this opportunity to quit the
box, and with the addition of the rocqueleau, and by timely using his
handkerchief as he passed the box-keeper, went away without suspicion
of being the person who bilked him on his coming in.—You will, no
doubt wonder, says Sable, how this genius could come by the knowledge
of the private marks upon the rocqueleau, and your wonder will be no
less when I tell you that he himself put them there, whilst the old
gentleman was engaged with the performance on the stage: for he, whose
study it was to refine upon sharping, never wanted materials, in the
various adventures he might meet with, consequently he was as expert
with his needle in sewing the two X’s upon the rocqueleau, as a surgeon
would be in using his lancet on a sudden emergency.—But to finish with
this gentleman.—This last exploit being ended, he takes me through
many alleys and dark passages; at length ascending a mean stair-case as
high as he could, he gave the signal of admittance, and the door was
opened, when there appeared to my sight, sitting round a table, four
persons, one in the habit of a clergyman, another in the character of
a farmer; a third was a laced beau, and the fourth an honest looking
tradesman, and I observed every one had before him watches, rings,
swords, snuff-boxes, purses with money, and other things of value,
which I afterwards found were the several labours of the day, which had
been gained by these honest looking gentlemen in the same capacity as
my adventurer—but our ingenious spark producing the watch by Tompion,
gold chain, rocqueleau, and an exceeding good hat instead of a bad
one, he was deemed the most meritorious of the whole fraternity for
that day. A division being made, and the several characters fixed for
the succeeding day (when my companion was to assume the appearance of
a country farmer) they all adjourned to a tavern, where they spent
the evening in recounting the methods they had taken in acquiring the
valuable collection I had seen upon the table; on leaving the tavern
each took a separate road, my adventurer taking me to the place from
whence we last came, and I understood the rendezvous of the next
day was to be at the parson’s lodging, which I found they changed
nightly.—In the morning early this industrious gentleman conducted me
to my old habitation in Monmouth-Street, unhurt, after all the perils
of the preceding day, to my great satisfaction, where after suffering
the corroding brush, and racking press as usual, I was at liberty to
indulge my reflections, and the last day’s expedition afforded me
ample matter. Gods! exclaimed Sable, could I have credited that such
things were really practised, had I not been a witness to them!
Is it not, says the sage adventurer to his gay companion, greatly to be
lamented, that men of such excellent talents, should prostitute them
to such hurtful purposes to the community, and reversing morality,
industriously pursue evil, that they may boast of blemishes they should
rather blush for; as he amongst these pillagers of society, is esteemed
the most worthy who is the most wicked. But I will not, continued
Sable, spend the precarious minutes in making reflections which your
own perspicuity will furnish you with, but proceed in the detail of my
next adventure.