One evening I was visited by the tall young gentleman, Francis Ardry,
whose acquaintance I had formed at the coffee-house. As it is necessary
that the reader should know something more about this young man, who will
frequently appear in the course of these pages, I will state in a few
words who and what he was. He was born of an ancient Roman Catholic
family in Ireland; his parents, whose only child he was, had long been
dead. His father, who had survived his mother several years, had been a
spendthrift, and at his death had left the family property considerably
embarrassed. Happily, however, the son and the estate fell into the
hands of careful guardians, near relations of the family, by whom the
property was managed to the best advantage, and every means taken to
educate the young man in a manner suitable to his expectations. At the
age of sixteen he was taken from a celebrated school in England at which
he had been placed, and sent to a small French University, in order that
he might form an intimate and accurate acquaintance with the grand
language of the continent. There he continued three years, at the end of
which he went, under the care of a French abbe, to Germany and Italy. It
was in this latter country that he first began to cause his guardians
serious uneasiness. He was in the hey-day of youth when he visited
Italy, and he entered wildly into the various delights of that
fascinating region, and, what was worse, falling into the hands of
certain sharpers, not Italian, but English, he was fleeced of
considerable sums of money. The abbe, who, it seems, was an excellent
individual of the old French school, remonstrated with his pupil on his
dissipation and extravagance; but, finding his remonstrances vain, very
properly informed the guardians of the manner of life of his charge. They
were not slow in commanding Francis Ardry home; and, as he was entirely
in their power, he was forced to comply. He had been about three months
in London when I met him in the coffee-room, and the two elderly
gentlemen in his company were his guardians. At this time they were very
solicitous that he should choose for himself a profession, offering to
his choice either the army or law--he was calculated to shine in either
of these professions--for, like many others of his countrymen, he was
brave and eloquent; but he did not wish to shackle himself with a
profession. As, however, his minority did not terminate till he was
three-and-twenty, of which age he wanted nearly two years, during which
he would be entirely dependent on his guardians, he deemed it expedient
to conceal, to a certain degree, his sentiments, temporising with the old
gentlemen, with whom, notwithstanding his many irregularities, he was a
great favourite, and at whose death he expected to come into a yet
greater property than that which he inherited from his parents.
Such is a brief account of Francis Ardry--of my friend Francis Ardry; for
the acquaintance, commenced in the singular manner with which the reader
is acquainted, speedily ripened into a friendship which endured through
many long years of separation, and which still endures certainly on my
part, and on his--if he lives; but it is many years since I have heard
from Francis Ardry.
And yet many people would have thought it impossible for our friendship
to have lasted a week, for in many respects no two people could be more
dissimilar. He was an Irishman, I an Englishman; he fiery, enthusiastic
and open-hearted, I neither fiery, enthusiastic nor open-hearted; he fond
of pleasure and dissipation, I of study and reflection. Yet it is of
such dissimilar elements that the most lasting friendships are formed: we
do not like counterparts of ourselves. "Two great talkers will not
travel far together," is a Spanish saying; I will add, "Nor two silent
people"; we naturally love our opposites.
So Francis Ardry came to see me, and right glad I was to see him, for I
had just flung my books and papers aside, and was wishing for a little
social converse; and when we had conversed for some little time together,
Francis Ardry proposed that we should go to the play to see Kean; so we
went to the play, and saw--not Kean, who at that time was ashamed to show
himself, but--a man who was not ashamed to show himself, and who people
said was a much better man than Kean--as I have no doubt he was--though
whether he was a better actor I cannot say, for I never saw Kean. {210}
Two or three evenings after, Francis Ardry came to see me again, and
again we went out together, and Francis Ardry took me to--shall I
say?--why not?--a gaming-house, where I saw people playing, and where I
saw Francis Ardry play and lose five guineas, and where I lost nothing,
because I did not play, though I felt somewhat inclined; for a man with a
white hat and a sparkling eye held up a box which contained something
which rattled, and asked me to fling the bones. "There is nothing like
flinging the bones!" said he, and then I thought I should like to know
what kind of thing flinging the bones was; I, however, restrained myself.
"There is nothing like flinging the bones!" shouted the man, as my friend
and myself left the room.
Long life and prosperity to Francis Ardry! but for him I should not have
obtained knowledge which I did of the strange and eccentric places of
London. Some of the places to which he took me were very strange places
indeed! but, however strange the places were, I observed that the
inhabitants thought there were no places like their several places, and
no occupations like their several occupations; and among other strange
places to which Francis Ardry conducted me, was a place not far from the
abbey church of Westminster.
Before we entered this place our ears were greeted by a confused hubbub
of human voices, squealing of rats, barking of dogs, and the cries of
various other animals. Here we beheld a kind of cock-pit, around which a
great many people, seeming of all ranks, but chiefly of the lower, were
gathered, and in it we saw a dog destroy a great many rats in a very
small period; and when the dog had destroyed the rats, we saw a fight
between a dog and a bear, then a fight between two dogs, then--
After the diversions of the day were over, my friend introduced me to the
genius of the place, a small man of about five feet high, with a very
sharp countenance, and dressed in a brown jockey coat, and top boots.
"Joey," {212} said he, "this is a friend of mine." Joey nodded to me
with a patronising air. "Glad to see you, sir!--want a dog?"
"No," said I.
"You have got one, then--want to match him?"
"We have a dog at home," said I, "in the country; but I can't say I
should like to match him. Indeed, I do not like dog-fighting."
"Not like dog-fighting!" said the man, staring.
"The truth is, Joe, that he is just come to town."
"So I should think; he looks rather green--not like dog-fighting!"
"Nothing like it, is there, Joey?"
"I should think not; what is like it? A time will come, and that
speedily, when folks will give up everything else, and follow
dog-fighting."
"Do you think so?" said I.
"Think so? Let me ask what there is that a man wouldn't give up for it?"
"Why," said I, modestly, "there's religion."
"Religion! How you talk. Why, there's myself, bred and born an
Independent, and intended to be a preacher, didn't I give up religion for
dog-fighting? Religion, indeed! If it were not for the rascally law, my
pit would fill better on Sundays than any other time. Who would go to
church when they could come to my pit? Religion! why, the parsons
themselves come to my pit; and I have now a letter in my pocket from one
of them, asking me to send him a dog."
"Well, then, politics," said I.
"Politics! Why, the gemmen in the House would leave Pitt himself, if he
were alive, to come to my pit. There were three of the best of them here
to-night, all great horators. Get on with you, what comes next?"
"Why, there's learning and letters."
"Pretty things, truly, to keep people from dog-fighting! Why, there's
the young gentlemen from the Abbey School comes here in shoals, leaving
books, and letters, and masters too. To tell you the truth, I rather
wish they would mind their letters, for a more precious set of young
blackguards I never seed. It was only the other day I was thinking of
calling in a constable for my own protection, for I thought my pit would
have been torn down by them."
Scarcely knowing what to say, I made an observation at random.
"You show by your own conduct," said I, "that there are other things
worth following besides dog-fighting. You practise rat-catching and
badger-baiting as well."
The dog-fancier eyed me with supreme contempt.
"Your friend here," said he, "might well call you a new one. When I
talks of dog-fighting, I of course means rat-catching and badger-baiting,
ay, and bull-baiting too, just as when I speaks religiously, when I says
one I means not one but three. And talking of religion puts me in mind
that I have something else to do besides chaffing here, having a batch of
dogs to send off by this night's packet to the Pope of Rome."
But at last I had seen enough of what London had to show, whether strange
or common-place, so at least I thought, and I ceased to accompany my
friend in his rambles about town, and to partake of his adventures. Our
friendship, however, still continued unabated, though I saw, in
consequence, less of him. I reflected that time was passing on, that the
little money I had brought to town was fast consuming, and that I had
nothing to depend upon but my own exertions for a fresh supply; and I
returned with redoubled application to my pursuits.