Et cantare pares, et respondere parati.--Virgil.
As we walked on into Tottenham-court-road, where we expected to find a
hackney-coach, my companion earnestly and strenuously impressed on my
mind, the necessity of implicitly obeying any instructions or hints
he might give me in the course of our adventure. “Remember,” said he,
forcibly, “that the least deviation from them, will not only defeat
our object of removing Dawson, but even expose our lives to the most
imminent peril.” I faithfully promised to conform to the minutest tittle
of his instructions.
We came to a stand of coaches. Jonson selected one, and gave the
coachman an order; he took care it should not reach my ears. During the
half hour we passed in this vehicle, Job examined and reexamined me
in my “canting catechism,” as he termed it. He expressed himself
much pleased with the quickness of my parts, and honoured me with an
assurance that in less than three months he would engage to make me as
complete a ruffler as ever nailed a swell.
To this gratifying compliment I made the best return in my power.
“You must not suppose,” said Jonson--some minutes afterwards, “from
our use of this language, that our club consists of the lower order of
thieves--quite the contrary: we are a knot of gentlemen adventurers who
wear the best clothes, ride the best hacks, frequent the best gaming
houses, as well as the genteelest haunts, and sometimes keep the first
company in London. We are limited in number: we have nothing in common
with ordinary prigs, and should my own little private amusements (as you
appropriately term them) be known in the set, I should have a very
fair chance of being expelled for ungentlemanlike practices. We rarely
condescend to speak ‘flash’ to each other in our ordinary meetings, but
we find it necessary, for many shifts to which fortune sometimes drives
us. The house you are going this night to visit, is a sort of colony
we have established for whatever persons amongst us are in danger of
blood-money. [Rewards for the apprehension of thieves.] There they
sometimes lie concealed for weeks together, and are at last shipped off
for the continent, or enter the world under a new alias. To this refuge
of the distressed we also send any of the mess, who, like Dawson, are
troubled with qualms of conscience, which are likely to endanger the
commonwealth; there they remain, as in a hospital, till death, or a
cure, in short, we put the house, like its inmates, to any purposes
likely to frustrate our enemies, and serve ourselves. Old Brimstone
Bess, to whom I shall introduce you, is, as I before said, the guardian
of the place; and the language that respectable lady chiefly indulges
in, is the one into which you have just acquired so good an insight.
Partly in compliment to her, and partly from inclination, the dialect
adopted in her house, is almost entirely ‘flash;’ and you, therefore,
perceive the necessity of appearing not utterly ignorant of a tongue,
which is not only the language of the country, but one with which no
true boy, however high in his profession, is ever unacquainted.”
By the time Jonson had finished this speech, the coach stopped--I looked
eagerly out--Jonson observed the motion: “We have not got half-way yet,
your honour,” said he. We left the coach, which Jonson requested me to
pay, and walked on.
“Tell me frankly, Sir,” said Job, “do you know where you are?”
“Not in the least,” replied I, looking wistfully up a long, dull,
ill-lighted street.
Job rolled his sinister eye towards me with a searching look, and then
turning abruptly to the right, penetrated into a sort of covered lane,
or court, which terminated in an alley, that brought us suddenly to a
stand of three coaches; one of these Job hailed--we entered it--a secret
direction was given, and we drove furiously on, faster than I should
think the crazy body of hackney chariot ever drove before. I observed,
that we had now entered a part of the town, which was singularly
strange to me; the houses were old, and for the most part of the meanest
description; we appeared to me to be threading a labyrinth of alleys;
once, I imagined that I caught, through a sudden opening, a glimpse of
the river, but we passed so rapidly, that my eye might have deceived
me. At length we stopped: the coachman was again dismissed, and I again
walked onwards, under the guidance, and almost at the mercy of my honest
companion.
Jonson did not address me--he was silent and absorbed, and I had
therefore full leisure to consider my present situation. Though (thanks
to my physical constitution) I am as callous to fear as most men, a few
chilling apprehensions, certainly flitted across my mind, when I looked
round at the dim and dreary sheds--houses they were not--which were
on either side of our path; only here and there, a single lamp shed a
sickly light upon the dismal and intersecting lanes (though lane is
too lofty a word), through which our footsteps woke a solitary sound.
Sometimes this feeble light was altogether withheld, and I could
scarcely catch even the outline of my companion’s muscular frame.
However, he strode on through the darkness, with the mechanical rapidity
of one to whom every stone is familiar. I listened eagerly for the sound
of the watchman’s voice, in vain--that note was never heard in those
desolate recesses. My ear drank in nothing but the sound of our own
footsteps, or the occasional burst of obscene and unholy merriment from
some half-closed hovel, where infamy and vice were holding revels.
Now and then, a wretched thing, in the vilest extreme of want,
and loathsomeness, and rags, loitered by the unfrequent lamps, and
interrupted our progress with solicitations, which made my blood run
cold. By degrees even these tokens of life ceased--the last lamp was
entirely shut from our view--we were in utter darkness.
“We are near our journey’s end now,” whispered Jonson
At these words a thousand unwelcome reflections forced themselves
voluntarily on my mind: I was about to plunge into the most secret
retreat of men whose long habits of villany and desperate abandonment,
had hardened into a nature which had scarcely a sympathy with my own;
unarmed and defenceless, I was going to penetrate a concealment upon
which their lives perhaps depended; what could I anticipate from
their vengeance, but the sure hand and the deadly knife, which their
self-preservation would more than justify to such lawless reasoners. And
who was my companion? One, who literally gloried in the perfection of
his nefarious practices; and who, if he had stopped short of the worst
enormities, seemed neither to disown the principle upon which they were
committed, nor to balance for a moment between his interest and his
conscience.
Nor did he attempt to conceal from me the danger to which I was exposed;
much as his daring habits of life, and the good fortune which had
attended him, must have hardened his nerves, even he, seemed fully
sensible of the peril he incurred--a peril certainly considerably less
than that which attended my temerity. Bitterly did I repent, as these
reflections rapidly passed my mind, my negligence in not providing
myself with a single weapon in case of need: the worst pang of death, is
the falling without a struggle.
However, it was no moment for the indulgence of fear, it was rather
one of those eventful periods which so rarely occur in the monotony
of common life, when our minds are sounded to their utmost depths: and
energies of which we dreamt not, when at rest in their secret retreats,
arise like spirits at the summons of the wizard, and bring to the
invoking mind, an unlooked for and preternatural aid.
There was something too in the disposition of my guide, which gave me a
confidence in him, not warranted by the occupations of his life; an easy
and frank boldness, an ingenuous vanity of abilities, skilfully, though
dishonestly exerted, which had nothing of the meanness and mystery of an
ordinary villain, and which being equally prominent with the rascality
they adorned, prevented the attention from dwelling only upon the darker
shades of his character. Besides, I had so closely entwined his interest
with my own, that I felt there could be no possible ground either for
suspecting him of any deceit towards me, or of omitting any art or
exertion which could conduce to our mutual safety or our common end.
Forcing myself to dwell solely upon the more encouraging side of the
enterprise I had undertaken, we continued to move on, silent and in
darkness, for some minutes longer--Jonson then halted.
“Are you quite prepared, Sir?” said he, in a whisper: “if your heart
fails, in God’s name let us turn back: the least evident terror will be
as much as your life is worth.”
My thoughts were upon Sir Reginald and Ellen, as I replied--
“You have told and convinced me that I may trust is you, and I have no
fears; my present object is one as strong to me as life.”
“I would we had a glim,” rejoined Job, musingly; “I should like to see
your face: but will you give me your hand, Sir?”
I did, and Jonson held it in his own for more than a minute.
“‘Fore Heaven, Sir,” said he, at last, “I would you were one of us. You
would live a brave man and die a game one. Your pulse is like iron; and
your hand does not sway--no--not so much as to wave a dove’s feather; it
would be a burning shame if harm came to so stout a heart.” Job moved on
a few steps. “Now, Sir,” he whispered, “remember your flash; do exactly
as I may have occasion to tell you; and be sure to sit away from the
light, should we be in company.”
With these words he stopped. I perceived by the touch, for it was
too dark to see, that he was leaning down, apparently in a listening
attitude; presently, he tapped five times at what I supposed was a door,
though I afterwards discovered it was the shutter to a window; upon
this, a faint light broke through the crevices of the boards, and a low
voice uttered some sound, which my ear did not catch. Job replied, in
the same key, and in words which were perfectly unintelligible to me;
the light disappeared; Job moved round, as if turning a corner. I
heard the heavy bolts and bars of a door slowly withdraw; and in a few
moments, a harsh voice said, in the thieves’ dialect,
“Ruffling Job, my prince of prigs, is that you? are you come to the ken
alone, or do you carry double?”
“Ah, Bess, my covess, strike me blind if my sees don’t tout your bingo
muns in spite of the darkmans. Egad, you carry a bane blink aloft. Come
to the ken alone--no! my blowen; did not I tell you I should bring a
pater cove, to chop up the whiners for Dawson?”
“Stubble it, you ben, you deserve to cly the jerk for your patter; come
in, and be d--d to you.”
Upon this invitation, Jonson, seizing me by the arm, pushed me into the
house, and followed. “Go for a glim, Bess, to light in the parish bull
with proper respect. I’ll close the gig of the crib.”
At this order, delivered in an authoritative tone, the old woman,
mumbling “strange oaths” to herself, moved away; when she was out of
hearing, Job whispered,
“Mark, I shall leave the bolts undrawn, the door opens with a latch,
which you press thus--do not forget the spring; it is easy, but
peculiar; should you be forced to run for it, you will also remember,
above all, when you are out of the door, to turn to the right and go
straight forwards.”
The old woman now reappeared with a light, and Jonson ceased, and moved
hastily towards her: I followed. The old woman asked whether the door
had been carefully closed, and Jonson, with an oath at her doubts of
such a matter, answered in the affirmative.
We proceeded onwards, through a long and very narrow passage, till Bess
opened a small door to the left, and introduced us into a large room,
which, to my great dismay, I found already occupied by four men, who
were sitting, half immersed in smoke, by an oak table, with a capacious
bowl of hot liquor before them. At the back ground of this room, which
resembled the kitchen of a public house, was an enormous skreen, of
antique fashion; a low fire burnt sullenly in the grate, and beside it
was one of those high-backed chairs, seem frequently in old houses, and
old pictures. A clock stood in one corner, and in the opposite nook were
a flight of narrow stairs, which led downwards, probably to a cellar.
On a row of shelves, were various bottles of the different liquors
generally in request among the “flash” gentry, together with an
old-fashioned fiddle, two bridles, and some strange looking tools,
probably of more use to true boys than honest men.
Brimstone Bess was a woman about the middle size, but with bones and
sinews which would not have disgraced a prize-fighter; a cap, that might
have been cleaner, was rather thrown than put on the back of her head,
developing, to full advantage, the few scanty locks of grizzled ebon
which adorned her countenance. Her eyes large, black, and prominent,
sparkled with a fire half vivacious, half vixen. The nasal feature
was broad and fungous, and, as well as the whole of her capacious
physiognomy, blushed with the deepest scarlet: it was evident to see
that many a full bottle of “British compounds” had contributed to the
feeding of that burning and phosphoric illumination, which was, indeed,
“the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.”
The expression of the countenance was not wholly bad. Amidst the deep
traces of searing vice and unrestrained passion; amidst all that was
bold, and unfeminine, and fierce, and crafty, there was a latent look
of coarse good humour, a twinkle of the eye that bespoke a tendency to
mirth and drollery, and an upward curve of the lip that shewed, however
the human creature might be debased, it still cherished its grand
characteristic--the propensity to laughter.
The garb of this dame Leonarda was by no means of that humble nature
which one might have supposed. A gown of crimson silk, flounced and
furbelowed to the knees, was tastefully relieved by a bright yellow
shawl; and a pair of heavy pendants glittered in her ears, which were
of the size proper to receive “the big words” they were in the habit
of hearing. Probably this finery had its origin in the policy of her
guests, who had seen enough of life to know that age, which tames all
other passions, never tames the passion of dress in a woman’s mind.
No sooner did the four revellers set their eyes upon me than they all
rose.
“Zounds, Bess!” cried the tallest of them, “what cull’s this? Is this a
bowsing ken for every cove to shove his trunk in?”
“What ho, my kiddy,” cried Job, “don’t be glimflashy: why you’d cry beef
on a blater; the cove is a bob cull, and a pal of my own; and, moreover,
is as pretty a Tyburn blossom as ever was brought up to ride a horse
foaled by an acorn.”
Upon this commendatory introduction I was forthwith surrounded, and one
of the four proposed that I should be immediately “elected.”
This motion, which was probably no gratifying ceremony, Job negatived
with a dictatorial air, and reminded his comrades that however they
might find it convenient to lower themselves occasionally, yet that they
were gentlemen sharpers, and not vulgar cracksmen and cly-fakers,
and that, therefore, they ought to welcome me with the good breeding
appropriate to their station.
Upon this hint, which was received with mingled laughter and deference,
for Job seemed to be a man of might among these Philistines, the tallest
of the set, who bore the euphonious appellation of Spider-shanks,
politely asked me if I would “blow a cloud with him?” and, upon my
assent--for I thought such an occupation would be the best excuse for
silence--he presented me with a pipe of tobacco, to which dame Brimstone
applied a light, and I soon lent my best endeavours to darken still
further the atmosphere around us.
Mr. Job Jonson then began artfully to turn the conversation away from
me to the elder confederates of his crew; these were all spoken of
under certain singular appellations which might well baffle impertinent
curiosity. The name of one was “the Gimblet,” another “Crack Crib,” a
third, the “Magician,” a fourth, “Cherry coloured Jowl.” The tallest of
the present company was called (as I before said) “Spider-shanks,” and
the shortest “Fib Fakescrew;” Job himself was honoured by the venerabile
nomen of “Guinea Pig.” At last Job explained the cause of my appearance;
viz. his wish to pacify Dawson’s conscience by dressing up one of the
pals, whom the sinner could not recognize, as an “autem bawler,” and so
obtaining him the benefit of the clergy without endangering the gang
by his confession. This detail was received with great good humour,
and Job, watching his opportunity, soon after rose, and, turning to me,
said,
“Toddle, my bob cull. We must track up the dancers and tout the sinner.”
I wanted no other hint to leave my present situation.
“The ruffian cly thee, Guinea Pig, for stashing the lush,” said
Spider-shanks, helping himself out of the bowl, which was nearly empty.
“Stash the lush!” cried Mrs. Brimstone, “aye, and toddle off to Ruggins.
Why, you would not be boosing till lightman’s in a square crib like
mine, as if you were in a flash panny.”
“That’s bang up, mort!” cried Fib. “A square crib, indeed! aye, square
as Mr. Newman’s courtyard--ding boys on three sides, and the crap on the
fourth!”
This characteristic witticism was received with great applause; and
Jonson, taking a candlestick from the fair fingers of the exasperated
Mrs. Brimstone, the hand thus conveniently released, immediately
transferred itself to Fib’s cheeks, with so hearty a concussion, that
it almost brought the rash jester to the ground. Jonson and I lost not
a moment in taking advantage of the confusion this gentle remonstrance
appeared to occasion; but instantly left the room and closed the door.