would suffer agonies when his wife brought or ordered from the
cellar a bottle of wine.
And now for the Doctor. He was about seventy years of age. He had
been much abroad; he was of a sober, cheerful aspect; he dressed
handsomely and quietly in a broad hat and cassock; but saw no
company except the few friends whom he met at the coffee-house. He
had an income of about one hundred pounds, which he promised to
leave to young Billings. He was amused with the lad, and fond of
his mother, and had boarded with them for some years past. The
Doctor, in fact, was our old friend Corporal Brock, the Reverend
Doctor Wood now, as he had been Major Wood fifteen years back.
Anyone who has read the former part of this history must have seen
that we have spoken throughout with invariable respect of Mr. Brock;
and that in every circumstance in which he has appeared, he has
acted not only with prudence, but often with genius. The early
obstacle to Mr. Brock's success was want of conduct simply. Drink,
women, play--how many a brave fellow have they ruined!--had pulled
Brock down as often as his merit had carried him up. When a man's
passion for play has brought him to be a scoundrel, it at once
ceases to be hurtful to him in a worldly point of view; he cheats,
and wins. It is only for the idle and luxurious that women retain
their fascinations to a very late period; and Brock's passions had
been whipped out of him in Virginia; where much ill-health,
ill-treatment, hard labour, and hard food, speedily put an end to
them. He forgot there even how to drink; rum or wine made this poor
declining gentleman so ill that he could indulge in them no longer;
and so his three vices were cured.
Had he been ambitious, there is little doubt but that Mr. Brock, on
his return from transportation, might have risen in the world; but
he was old and a philosopher: he did not care about rising. Living
was cheaper in those days, and interest for money higher: when he
had amassed about six hundred pounds, he purchased an annuity of
seventy-two pounds, and gave out--why should he not?--that he had
the capital as well as the interest. After leaving the Hayes family
in the country, he found them again in London: he took up his abode
with them, and was attached to the mother and the son. Do you
suppose that rascals have not affections like other people? hearts,
madam--ay, hearts--and family ties which they cherish? As the
Doctor lived on with this charming family he began to regret that he
had sunk all his money in annuities, and could not, as he repeatedly
vowed he would, leave his savings to his adopted children.
He felt an indescribable pleasure ("suave mari magno," etc.) in
watching the storms and tempests of the Hayes menage. He used to
encourage Mrs. Catherine into anger when, haply, that lady's fits of
calm would last too long; he used to warm up the disputes between
wife and husband, mother and son, and enjoy them beyond expression:
they served him for daily amusement; and he used to laugh until the
tears ran down his venerable cheeks at the accounts which young Tom
continually brought him of his pranks abroad, among watchmen and
constables, at taverns or elsewhere.
When, therefore, as the party were discussing their bacon and
cabbage, before which the Reverend Doctor with much gravity said
grace, Master Tom entered. Doctor Wood, who had before been rather
gloomy, immediately brightened up, and made a place for Billings
between himself and Mrs. Catherine.
"How do, old cock?" said that young gentleman familiarly. "How goes
it, mother?" And so saying, he seized eagerly upon the jug of beer
which Mr. Hayes had drawn, and from which the latter was about to
help himself, and poured down his throat exactly one quart.
"Ah!" said Mr. Billings, drawing breath after a draught which he had
learned accurately to gauge from the habit of drinking out of pewter
measures which held precisely that quantity.--" Ah!" said Mr.
Billings, drawing breath, and wiping his mouth with his sleeves,
"this is very thin stuff, old Squaretoes; but my coppers have been
red-hot since last night, and they wanted a sluicing."
"Should you like some ale, dear?" said Mrs. Hayes, that fond and
judicious parent.
"A quart of brandy, Tom?" said Doctor Wood. "Your papa will run
down to the cellar for it in a minute."
"I'll see him hanged first!" cried Mr. Hayes, quite frightened.
"Oh, fie, now, you unnatural father!" said the Doctor.
The very name of father used to put Mr. Hayes in a fury. "I'm not
his father, thank Heaven!" said he.
"No, nor nobody else's," said Tom.
Mr. Hayes only muttered "Base-born brat!"
"His father was a gentleman,--that's more than you ever were!"
screamed Mrs. Hayes. "His father was a man of spirit; no cowardly
sneak of a carpenter, Mr Hayes! Tom has noble blood in his veins,
for all he has a tailor's appearance; and if his mother had had her
right, she would be now in a coach-and-six."
"I wish I could find my father," said Tom; "for I think Polly Briggs
and I would look mighty well in a coach-and-six." Tom fancied that
if his father was a count at the time of his birth, he must be a
prince now; and, indeed, went among his companions by the latter
august title.
"Ay, Tom, that you would," cried his mother, looking at him fondly.
"With a sword by my side, and a hat and feather there's never a lord
at St. James's would cut a finer figure."
After a little more of this talk, in which Mrs. Hayes let the
company know her high opinion of her son--who, as usual, took care
to show his extreme contempt for his stepfather--the latter retired
to his occupations; the lodger, Mrs. Springatt, who had never said a
word all this time, retired to her apartment on the second floor;
and, pulling out their pipes and tobacco, the old gentleman and the
young one solaced themselves with half-an-hour's more talk and
smoking; while the thrifty Mrs. Hayes, opposite to them, was busy
with her books.
"What's in the confessions?" said Mr. Billings to Doctor Wood.
"There were six of 'em besides Mac: two for sheep, four
housebreakers; but nothing of consequence, I fancy."
"There's the paper," said Wood, archly. "Read for yourself, Tom."
Mr. Tom looked at the same time very fierce and very foolish; for,
though he could drink, swear, and fight as well as any lad of his
inches in England, reading was not among his accomplishments. "I
tell you what, Doctor," said he, "---- you! have no bantering with
me,--for I'm not the man that will bear it,-- me!" and he threw a
tremendous swaggering look across the table.
"I want you to learn to read, Tommy dear. Look at your mother there
over her books: she keeps them as neat as a scrivener now, and at
twenty she could make never a stroke."
"Your godfather speaks for your good, child; and for me, thou
knowest that I have promised thee a gold-headed cane and periwig on
the first day that thou canst read me a column of the Flying Post."
"Hang the periwig!" said Mr. Tom, testily. "Let my godfather read
the paper himself, if he has a liking for it."
Whereupon the old gentleman put on his spectacles, and glanced over
the sheet of whity-brown paper, which, ornamented with a picture of
a gallows at the top, contained the biographies of the seven unlucky
individuals who had that morning suffered the penalty of the law.
With the six heroes who came first in the list we have nothing to
do; but have before us a copy of the paper containing the life of
No. 7, and which the Doctor read in an audible voice.
"CAPTAIN MACSHANE.
"The seventh victim to his own crimes was the famous highwayman,
Captain Macshane, so well known as the Irish Fire-eater.
"The Captain came to the ground in a fine white lawn shirt and
nightcap; and, being a Papist in his religion, was attended by
Father O'Flaherty, Popish priest, and chaplain to the Bavarian
Envoy.
"Captain Macshane was born of respectable parents, in the town of
Clonakilty, in Ireland, being descended from most of the kings in
that country. He had the honour of serving their Majesties King
William and Queen Mary, and Her Majesty Queen Anne, in Flanders and
Spain, and obtained much credit from my Lords Marlborough and
Peterborough for his valour.
"But being placed on half-pay at the end of the war, Ensign Macshane
took to evil courses; and, frequenting the bagnios and dice-houses,
was speedily brought to ruin.
"Being at this pass, he fell in with the notorious Captain Wood, and
they two together committed many atrocious robberies in the inland
counties; but these being too hot to hold them, they went into the
west, where they were unknown. Here, however, the day of
retribution arrived; for, having stolen three pewter-pots from a
public-house, they, under false names, were tried at Exeter, and
transported for seven years beyond the sea. Thus it is seen that
Justice never sleeps; but, sooner or latter, is sure to overtake the
criminal.
"On their return from Virginia, a quarrel about booty arose between
these two, and Macshane killed Wood in a combat that took place
between them near to the town of Bristol; but a waggon coming up,
Macshane was obliged to fly without the ill-gotten wealth: so true
is it, that wickedness never prospers.
"Two days afterwards, Macshane met the coach of Miss Macraw, a
Scotch lady and heiress, going, for lumbago and gout, to the Bath.
He at first would have robbed this lady; but such were his arts,
that he induced her to marry him; and they lived together for seven
years in the town of Eddenboro, in Scotland,--he passing under the
name of Colonel Geraldine. The lady dying, and Macshane having
expended all her wealth, he was obliged to resume his former evil
courses, in order to save himself from starvation; whereupon he
robbed a Scotch lord, by name the Lord of Whistlebinkie, of a mull
of snuff; for which crime he was condemned to the Tolbooth prison at
Eddenboro, in Scotland, and whipped many times in publick.
"These deserved punishments did not at all alter Captain Macshane's
disposition; and on the 17th of February last, he stopped the
Bavarian Envoy's coach on Blackheath, coming from Dover, and robbed
his Excellency and his chaplain; taking from the former his money,
watches, star, a fur-cloak, his sword (a very valuable one); and
from the latter a Romish missal, out of which he was then reading,
and a case-bottle."
"The Bavarian Envoy!" said Tom parenthetically. "My master,
Beinkleider, was his Lordship's regimental tailor in Germany, and is
now making a Court suit for him. It will be a matter of a hundred
pounds to him, I warrant."
Doctor Wood resumed his reading. "Hum--hum! A Romish missal, out of
which he was reading, and a case-bottle.
"By means of the famous Mr. Wild, this notorious criminal was
brought to justice, and the case-bottle and missal have been
restored to Father O'Flaherty.
"During his confinement in Newgate, Mr. Macshane could not be
brought to express any contrition for his crimes, except that of
having killed his commanding officer. For this Wood he pretended an
excessive sorrow, and vowed that usquebaugh had been the cause of
his death,--indeed, in prison he partook of no other liquor, and
drunk a bottle of it on the day before his death.
"He was visited by several of the clergy and gentry in his cell;
among others, by the Popish priest whom he had robbed, Father
O'FIaherty, before mentioned, who attended him likewise in his last
moments (if that idolatrous worship may be called attention), and
likewise by the Father's patron, the Bavarian Ambassador, his
Excellency Count Maximilian de Galgenstein."
As old Wood came to these words, he paused to give them utterance.
"What! Max?" screamed Mrs. Hayes, letting her ink-bottle fall over
her ledgers.
"Why, be hanged if it ben't my father!" said Mr. Billings.
"Your father, sure enough, unless there be others of his name, and
unless the scoundrel is hanged," said the Doctor--sinking his voice,
however, at the end of the sentence.
Mr. Billings broke his pipe in an agony of joy. "I think we'll have
the coach now, Mother," says he; "and I'm blessed if Polly Briggs
shall not look as fine as a duchess."
"Polly Briggs is a low slut, Tom, and not fit for the likes of you,
his Excellency's son. Oh, fie! You must be a gentleman now,
sirrah; and I doubt whether I shan't take you away from that odious
tailor's shop altogether."
To this proposition Mr. Billings objected altogether; for, besides
Mrs. Briggs before alluded to, the young gentleman was much attached
to his master's daughter, Mrs. Margaret Gretel, or Gretchen
Beinkleider.
"No," says he. "There will be time to think of that hereafter,
ma'am. If my pa makes a man of me, why, of course, the shop may go
to the deuce, for what I care; but we had better wait, look you, for
something certain before we give up such a pretty bird in the hand
as this."
"He speaks like Solomon," said the Doctor.
"I always said he would be a credit to his old mother, didn't I,
Brock?" cried Mrs. Cat, embracing her son very affectionately. "A
credit to her; ay, I warrant, a real blessing! And dost thou want
any money, Tom? for a lord's son must not go about without a few
pieces in his pocket. And I tell thee, Tommy, thou must go and see
his Lordship; and thou shalt have a piece of brocade for a
waistcoat, thou shalt; ay, and the silver-hilted sword I told thee
of; but oh, Tommy, Tommy! have a care, and don't be a-drawing of it
in naughty company at the gaming-houses, or at the--"
"A drawing of fiddlesticks, Mother! If I go to see my father, I
must have a reason for it; and instead of going with a sword in my
hand, I shall take something else in it."
"The lad IS a lad of n
ous," cried Doctor Wood, "although his mother
does spoil him so cruelly. Look you, Madam Cat: did you not hear
what he said about Beinkleider and the clothes? Tommy will just
wait on the Count with his Lordship's breeches. A man may learn a
deal of news in the trying on of a pair of breeches."
And so it was agreed that in this manner the son should at first
make his appearance before his father. Mrs. Cat gave him the piece
of brocade, which, in the course of the day, was fashioned into a
smart waistcoat (for Beinkleider's shop was close by, in Cavendish
Square). Mrs. Gretel, with many blushes, tied a fine blue riband
round his neck; and, in a pair of silk stockings, with gold buckles
to his shoes, Master Billings looked a very proper young gentleman.
"And, Tommy," said his mother, blushing and hesitating, "should
Max--should his Lordship ask after your--want to know if your mother
is alive, you can say she is, and well, and often talks of old
times. And, Tommy" (after another pause), "you needn't say anything
about Mr. Hayes; only say I'm quite well."
Mrs. Hayes looked at him as he marched down the street, a long long
way. Tom was proud and gay in his new costume, and was not unlike
his father. As she looked, lo! Oxford Street disappeared, and she
saw a green common, and a village, and a little inn. There was a
soldier leading a pair of horses about on the green common; and in
the inn sat a cavalier, so young, so merry, so beautiful! Oh, what
slim white hands he had; and winning words, and tender, gentle blue
eyes! Was it not an honour to a country lass that such a noble
gentleman should look at her for a moment? Had he not some charm
about him that she must needs obey when he whispered in her ear,
"Come, follow me!" As she walked towards the lane that morning, how
well she remembered each spot as she passed it, and the look it wore
for the last time! How the smoke was rising from the pastures, how
the fish were jumping and plashing in the mill-stream! There was
the church, with all its windows lighted up with gold, and yonder
were the reapers sweeping down the brown corn. She tried to sing as
she went up the hill--what was it? She could not remember; but oh,
how well she remembered the sound of the horse's hoofs, as they came
quicker, quicker--nearer, nearer! How noble he looked on his great
horse! Was he thinking of her, or were they all silly words which
he spoke last night, merely to pass away the time and deceive poor
girls with? Would he remember them,--would he?
"Cat my dear," here cried Mr. Brock, alias Captain, alias Doctor
Wood, "here's the meat a-getting cold, and I am longing for my
breakfast."
As they went in he looked her hard in the face. "What, still at it,
you silly girl? I've been watching you these five minutes, Cat; and
be hanged but I think a word from Galgenstein, and you would follow
him as a fly does a treacle-pot!"
They went in to breakfast; but though there was a hot shoulder of
mutton and onion-sauce--Mrs. Catherine's favourite dish--she never
touched a morsel of it.
In the meanwhile Mr. Thomas Billings, in his new clothes which his
mamma had given him, in his new riband which the fair Miss
Beinkleider had tied round his neck, and having his Excellency's
breeches wrapped in a silk handkerchief in his right hand, turned
down in the direction of Whitehall, where the Bavarian Envoy lodged.
But, before he waited on him, Mr. Billings, being excessively
pleased with his personal appearance, made an early visit to Mrs.
Briggs, who lived in the neighbourhood of Swallow Street; and who,
after expressing herself with much enthusiasm regarding her Tommy's
good looks, immediately asked him what he would stand to drink?
Raspberry gin being suggested, a pint of that liquor was sent for;