A QUIET SCENE.
The kitchen was now nearly empty. A candle in a brass candlestick was
placed upon each table by the under deputy, which, with the help of a
good fire, made the room feel somewhat comfortable, and even cheerful.
Some two or three individuals still continued to shuffle the cards;
and as many women placed themselves by the fire, with their legs
stretched upon the forms, to smoke and beguile away the time, until
"their men," as they termed them, would come back; while perhaps two
or three of the "swinish multitude" might be heard snoring away their
stimulus in a corner, in sounds both loud and deep.
On a Saturday evening, from the hours of eight and nine, until eleven,
every cadging house is in general particularly quiet, for the reasons
we have already stated; none ever going out to work on a Sunday (the
sweepers of crossings, of course, excepted), but those who are
compelled from sheer necessity.
The room for some time enjoyed a tolerable degree of stillness. The
master and an old female domestic occasionally entered, and made their
exit. A lodger or so came home, and busied themselves in getting their
refreshments. Two or three females dropped in from the women's
kitchen, just by the way of having a little gossip; and, as is usual
with the angelic part of the creation, scandal was the topic; how that
such a one had been "carrying on," as they phrased it, all the week,
getting drunk every day, and that they had never paid the landlord;
and how that Mr. So-and-so was grumbling, as well he might; and how
that Tom What-d'ye-call-him was going to be parted from Bet
What's-her-name; "and, to tell the truth, no one pitied her; she came
home _mortal_ (insensibly intoxicated) twice or thrice a day, and what
man _could_ stand that? He had all but murdered her, the other night,
but it was to no purpose; for she had taken every rag he had, even the
very shirt off his back, and put them up the spout (the pawn-shop)
this very morning. But as for Tom himself, he was as sober and as
decent a man as ever entered a house, rarely ever seen the worse for
drink above twice or thrice a week," &c., &c. With such lady-like
discourse as this, then, did those patterns of excelling nature while
away the time, not forgetting too, every now and then, to strengthen
their language with a few powerful asseverations.
From this interesting group, we turned to observe a few individuals
staggering in, when a tall countryman, with his hat slouched over his
ears, and one of those velvet shooting-jackets, which we have before
noticed, and which indeed is the flash coat of low life, following
close after, caught our attention. The sleeves of his jerkin were slit
here and there, and the white shirt (the only one we had seen that
night) protruding through the rents, gave it a good deal of the
appearance of the slashed doublet of former days. As he advanced into
the room, we soon recognised an old acquaintance in Harry ----, of
----, in Yorkshire.
This man who now stood before us, is one of the many instances, that
are to be met with in those dens, of the strange vicissitudes of life.
His youth was reared in one of the first boarding schools in
Yorkshire, and, for many years, he was well known at Doncaster market
as a gentleman farmer; nor is it a great while ago, since this very
man might be seen dashing along those streets in his one-horse chaise.
But, alas! what is he now? A crawler from door to door with matches,
or, when he can raise sufficient pence to purchase a stock of ballads,
may be seen standing in the streets, straining himself to amuse the
rabble--the inmate of a cadging house, and the companion of the lowest
of the low. So much, then, for gambling and a jovial life.
Notwithstanding his education, and the good society in which he must
have moved, there was yet nothing of the remains of a gentleman about
him; a considerable share of the fool and profligate was naturally
engrafted in his character. A large black mark, in the shape of a
half-moon, appeared to have been strongly indented by hard knuckles,
below the left visual organ,--ornaments that are as frequently to be
seen upon the inhabitants of St. Giles's, as rings are upon the
visitors of St. James's. His ruffianly country dress, clownish
manners, broad dialect of canny Yorkshire, with a certain cunning cast
of the eye,--contracted no doubt by peering through the hedge, to see
if the gamekeeper was _coming_,--all contributed to exhibit him before
us, as the very _beau ideal_ of a poacher.
"York! York!" was vociferated from different parts of the room, and to
all of which the _bite_, or rather the bitten, answered, with
good-humoured smiles. "He had just come in," he said, "to see if his
mate was come hyem yet; but as he had not, he thought he could guess
right weel where he wad be, and wad just step o'er to Brown's (the
gin-shop) and see."
Away he went, and, in about ten minutes time, a roaring, roistering
party was heard coming to the door. York entered, his arms loaded with
eggs and bacon, and a glass or two the merrier. A Deaf-Burke-made
fellow, an Irishman, half labourer and half beggar, who went under the
name of Harlequin, reeled by his side in a state of high elevation,
with two or three hangers-on, that trod close to their heels.
Harlequin, filled with drink and overflowing with vanity, overwhelmed
every one with noise and kindness.
The plates, &c., were soon put in order, and York showed himself no
despicable cook. He made the tea, fried the eggs and bacon, and as if
not to be outdone in loving kindness by his mate, now loudly
proclaimed, "that if ony man was in want of _summat_ to eat, to come
forward; for there was plenty for all."
A man, who had been sleeping behind the table, roused himself up at
the invitation, and expressed his willingness for a cup of tea.
"Nay, I'll be ---- if thou shall," says York; "thou's been drunk, man,
fra night till morning, and fra morning till night, these three
weeks; and I say that a man that can find money to drink, can find
money to eat. To get drunk," he said, turning to the company, "the
matter of twice or thrice a week, is a thing that ony man is liable
to, and I say that such a man is welcome to a cup of tea, and maybe
_summat_ to eat; but to be always drink, drinking, I say again, that a
man who can find money to drink, can find money to eat, and so he
shall not have a drop!"
During the latter part of this speech, the speaker's looks were
directed towards the company, to see if it met with their approbation.
Some two or three there were who drawled out that "it was right;" but
their assent seemed to be drawn from them, more in expectation of the
good things that York was about to give away, than from any real
coincidence with his opinion--even such cadging house morality as
this, appeared to be too rigid for their notions of right and wrong.
As for the man himself, whose drowsy and dissipated looks certainly
presented the very picture of a sot, quietly swallowed the affront,
and laid himself down again to sleep.
The Yorkshireman, however, had apparently set his own conscience to
rest, and seemed to care very little about the tranquillity of the
other. He handed a piece of bacon to one, and a cup of tea to another;
then thrusting a rasher into his own mouth, much in the style of a
terrier griping a rat, chewed, bolted, swallowed, and gorged, until he
had completely stuffed the inward man.
There was a fine contrast of national character between the
Yorkshireman and his mate. The Irishman was all puff, blarney, and
brag, and all the time had been in a humour either to fight or to
shake hands. Nothing would serve him but to play at cards with every
one of the company, offering the most tremendous odds; but,
fortunately for him, there was not another purse-proud man in the room
but himself. One poor fellow in particular, on whom he fastened, and
who distinctly stated that he had no money, or else he would hazard a
game. But this only served to set the Hibernian's froth in motion. He
stormed, roused himself upon his legs, towered, and gave vent to a
burst of blarney.
"Now, d---- it," says York, "I dinna like that--I dinna like it at
all; attack a man that has _summat_, I say, and not one that has
nought, and then that will luck _mair_ like a man!" And with such
hearty John Bull notions as these did _canny_ Yorkshire browbeat his
crony of the sister kingdom.
Some remarks were now made upon York's black eye, and various remedies
proposed--such as the application of a piece of raw flesh, &c., to all
of which the _Bite_ did seriously incline, for, as he said, "It lucked
scandalous-like to see a man with a black eye. But," says he, "Mike
O'Brady maybe thinks he got clear of that; but, ye hear me say, he's
mistaken? I was the other day at Epsom Races, and spent every
ha'penny; and as I was coming off the course I met Tom ----, (a
fellow, from whose appearance no one would suppose was worth twopence,
but who, in reality, was a partner of one of those gambling-tables
which are carried to fairs and races), and asked him for threepence to
get a pint of _yell_. He pulled out ten shillings, and said I mot hae
the loan of five pounds ony day; and when Doncaster races comes, I
think I can raise other fifteen" (and to show this was no vaunt,
thrust his hand into his bosom, and pulled out a handfull of the
sinews of war--shillings and half-crowns), "that will be twenty, we'll
make a match on it;" and raising his fist and his voice together, "we
will then see which is the best man."
At this a tremendous row was heard at the door. St. Giles's was just
beginning his orisons. Loud shouts, hard blows, and deep oaths were
heard, with cries for the policeman, and "Murder, murder," from
powerful lungs. In a twinkling the kitchen was emptied, and then came
the din of strife--struggling, heavy falls, swearing, the policeman's
voice, and the roar of all parties.
As soon as this animated but common affair was over, the company
returned; the most of whom seemed to think it scarcely worthy of
further notice; but not so with Harlequin. The Irishman was
outrageous--like the war-horse, his mettle was put in motion, he
whooped and bellowed, and was all kicking for a row; threw off his
jacket, displaying the upper part of his body in a state of nudity,
and with his clenched hand slapped his breast, which sounded like a
board; then striking out, right and left, two sunburnt arms of bone,
like Ossian's heroes of old, cleaving the air with their arms for the
coming fight swore that he had got one black eye, and by the Holy
Mother Church and Daniel O'Connell, would not lay head upon pillow
this very night until he got another.
At last, after much coaxing, pulling, and hauling, he was dragged to a
seat, and John Barleycorn finally overcame him, and delivered him for
a time safely into the arms of Morpheus.
York sank down upon a seat, stretched his arms over the table, buried
his head between them, and in an extremely short space of time, _Old
Tom_ gave notice that he too was fast acting as an opiate upon _canny_
Yorkshire.
[Illustration]