A Story

"Button's" and "Will's," an accurate description of his person, his

  clothes, and the horse he rode, and a promise of fifty guineas'

  reward to any person who would give an account of him (so that he

  might be captured) to Captain Count Galgenstein at Birmingham, to

  Mr. Murfey at the "Golden Ball" in the Savoy, or Mr. Bates at the

  "Blew Anchor in Pickadilly." But Captain Wood, in an enormous

  full-bottomed periwig that cost him sixty pounds,* with high red

  heels to his shoes, a silver sword, and a gold snuff-box, and a

  large wound (obtained, he said, at the siege of Barcelona), which

  disfigured much of his countenance, and caused him to cover one eye,

  was in small danger, he thought, of being mistaken for Corporal

  Brock, the deserter of Cutts's; and strutted along the Mall with as

  grave an air as the very best nobleman who appeared there. He was

  generally, indeed, voted to be very good company; and as his

  expenses were unlimited ("A few convent candlesticks," my dear, he

  used to whisper, "melt into a vast number of doubloons"), he

  commanded as good society as he chose to ask for: and it was

  speedily known as a fact throughout town, that Captain Wood, who had

  served under His Majesty Charles III. of Spain, had carried off the

  diamond petticoat of Our Lady of Compostella, and lived upon the

  proceeds of the fraud. People were good Protestants in those days,

  and many a one longed to have been his partner in the pious plunder.

  * In the ingenious contemporary history of Moll Flanders, a periwig

  is mentioned as costing that sum.

  All surmises concerning his wealth, Captain Wood, with much

  discretion, encouraged. He contradicted no report, but was quite

  ready to confirm all; and when two different rumours were positively

  put to him, he used only to laugh, and say, "My dear sir, _I_ don't

  make the stories; but I'm not called upon to deny them; and I give

  you fair warning, that I shall assent to every one of them; so you

  may believe them or not, as you please." And so he had the

  reputation of being a gentleman, not only wealthy, but discreet. In

  truth, it was almost a pity that worthy Brock had not been a

  gentleman born; in which case, doubtless, he would have lived and

  died as became his station; for he spent his money like a gentleman,

  he loved women like a gentleman, he would fight like a gentleman, he

  gambled and got drunk like a gentleman. What did he want else?

  Only a matter of six descents, a little money, and an estate, to

  render him the equal of St. John or Harley. "Ah, those were merry

  days!" would Mr. Brock say,--for he loved, in a good old age, to

  recount the story of his London fashionable campaign;--"and when I

  think how near I was to become a great man, and to die perhaps a

  general, I can't but marvel at the wicked obstinacy of my ill-luck."

  "I will tell you what I did, my dear: I had lodgings in Piccadilly,

  as if I were a lord; I had two large periwigs, and three suits of

  laced clothes; I kept a little black dressed out like a Turk; I

  walked daily in the Mall; I dined at the politest ordinary in Covent

  Garden; I frequented the best of coffee-houses, and knew all the

  pretty fellows of the town; I cracked a bottle with Mr. Addison, and

  lent many a piece to Dick Steele (a sad debauched rogue, my dear);

  and, above all, I'll tell you what I did--the noblest stroke that

  sure ever a gentleman performed in my situation.

  "One day, going into 'Will's,' I saw a crowd of gentlemen gathered

  together, and heard one of them say, 'Captain Wood! I don't know the

  man; but there was a Captain Wood in Southwell's regiment.' Egad, it

  was my Lord Peterborough himself who was talking about me. So,

  putting off my hat, I made a most gracious conge to my Lord, and

  said I knew HIM, and rode behind him at Barcelona on our entry into

  that town.

  "'No doubt you did, Captain Wood,' says my Lord, taking my hand;

  'and no doubt you know me: for many more know Tom Fool, than Tom

  Fool knows.' And with this, at which all of us laughed, my Lord

  called for a bottle, and he and I sat down and drank it together.

  "Well, he was in disgrace, as you know, but he grew mighty fond of

  me, and--would you believe it?--nothing would satisfy him but

  presenting me at Court! Yes, to Her Sacred Majesty the Queen, and

  my Lady Marlborough, who was in high feather. Ay, truly, the

  sentinels on duty used to salute me as if I were Corporal John

  himself! I was on the high road to fortune. Charley Mordaunt used

  to call me Jack, and drink canary at my chambers; I used to make one

  at my Lord Treasurer's levee; I had even got Mr. Army-Secretary

  Walpole to take a hundred guineas as a compliment: and he had

  promised me a majority: when bad luck turned, and all my fine hopes

  were overthrown in a twinkling.

  "You see, my dear, that after we had left that gaby,

  Galgenstein,--ha, ha--with a gag in his mouth, and twopence-

  halfpenny in his pocket, the honest Count was in the sorriest plight

  in the world; owing money here and there to tradesmen, a cool

  thousand to the Warwickshire Squire: and all this on eighty pounds

  a year! Well, for a little time the tradesmen held their hands;

  while the jolly Count moved heaven and earth to catch hold of his

  dear Corporal and his dear money-bags over again, and placarded

  every town from London to Liverpool with descriptions of my pretty

  person. The bird was flown, however,--the money clean gone,--and

  when there was no hope of regaining it, what did the creditors do

  but clap my gay gentleman into Shrewsbury gaol: where I wish he had

  rotted, for my part.

  "But no such luck for honest Peter Brock, or Captain Wood, as he was

  in those days. One blessed Monday I went to wait on Mr. Secretary,

  and he squeezed my hand and whispered to me that I was to be Major

  of a regiment in Virginia--the very thing: for you see, my dear, I

  didn't care about joining my Lord Duke in Flanders; being pretty

  well known to the army there. The Secretary squeezed my hand (it

  had a fifty-pound bill in it) and wished me joy, and called me

  Major, and bowed me out of his closet into the ante-room; and, as

  gay as may be, I went off to the 'Tilt-yard Coffee-house' in

  Whitehall, which is much frequented by gentlemen of our profession,

  where I bragged not a little of my good luck.

  "Amongst the company were several of my acquaintance, and amongst

  them a gentleman I did not much care to see, look you! I saw a

  uniform that I knew--red and yellow facings--Cutts's, my dear; and

  the wearer of this was no other than his Excellency Gustavus

  Adolphus Maximilian, whom we all know of!

  "He stared me full in the face, right into my eye (t'other one was

  patched, you know), and after standing stock-still with his mouth

  open, gave a step back, and then a step forward, and then screeched

  out, 'It's Brock!'

  "'I beg your pardon, sir,' says I; 'did you speak to me?'

  "'I'll SWEAR it's Brock,' cries Gal, as soon as he hears my voice,

  and laid hold of my cuff (a pretty
bit of Mechlin as ever you saw,

  by the way).

  "'Sirrah!' says I, drawing it back, and giving my Lord a little

  touch of the fist (just at the last button of the waistcoat, my

  dear,--a rare place if you wish to prevent a man from speaking too

  much: it sent him reeling to the other end of the room). 'Ruffian!'

  says I. 'Dog!' says I. 'Insolent puppy and coxcomb! what do you

  mean by laying your hand on me?'

  "'Faith, Major, you giv him his BILLYFUL,' roared out a long Irish

  unattached ensign, that I had treated with many a glass of Nantz at

  the tavern. And so, indeed, I had; for the wretch could not speak

  for some minutes, and all the officers stood laughing at him, as he

  writhed and wriggled hideously.

  "'Gentlemen, this is a monstrous scandal,' says one officer. 'Men

  of rank and honour at fists like a parcel of carters!'

  "'Men of honour!' says the Count, who had fetched up his breath by

  this time. (I made for the door, but Macshane held me and said,

  'Major, you are not going to shirk him, sure?' Whereupon I gripped

  his hand and vowed I would have the dog's life.)

  "'Men of honour!' says the Count. 'I tell you the man is a

  deserter, a thief, and a swindler! He was my corporal, and ran away

  with a thou--'

  "'Dog, you lie!' I roared out, and made another cut at him with my

  cane; but the gentlemen rushed between us.

  "'O bluthanowns!' says honest Macshane, 'the lying scounthrel this

  fellow is! Gentlemen, I swear be me honour that Captain Wood was

  wounded at Barcelona; and that I saw him there; and that he and I

  ran away together at the battle of Almanza, and bad luck to us.'

  "You see, my dear, that these Irish have the strongest imaginations

  in the world; and that I had actually persuaded poor Mac that he and

  I were friends in Spain. Everybody knew Mac, who was a character in

  his way, and believed him.

  "'Strike a gentleman,' says I. 'I'll have your blood, I will.'

  "'This instant,' says the Count, who was boiling with fury; 'and

  where you like.'

  "'Montague House,' says I. 'Good,' says he. And off we went. In

  good time too, for the constables came in at the thought of such a

  disturbance, and wanted to take us in charge.

  "But the gentlemen present, being military men, would not hear of

  this. Out came Mac's rapier, and that of half-a-dozen others; and

  the constables were then told to do their duty if they liked, or to

  take a crown-piece, and leave us to ourselves. Off they went; and

  presently, in a couple of coaches, the Count and his friends, I and

  mine, drove off to the fields behind Montague House. Oh that vile

  coffee-house! why did I enter it?

  "We came to the ground. Honest Macshane was my second, and much

  disappointed because the second on the other side would not make a

  fight of it, and exchange a few passes with him; but he was an old

  major, a cool old hand, as brave as steel, and no fool. Well, the

  swords are measured, Galgenstein strips off his doublet, and I my

  handsome cut-velvet in like fashion. Galgenstein flings off his

  hat, and I handed mine over--the lace on it cost me twenty pounds.

  I longed to be at him, for--curse him!--I hate him, and know that he

  has no chance with me at sword's-play.

  "'You'll not fight in that periwig, sure?' says Macshane. 'Of

  course not,' says I, and took it off.

  "May all barbers be roasted in flames; may all periwigs, bobwigs,

  scratchwigs, and Ramillies cocks, frizzle in purgatory from this day

  forth to the end of time! Mine was the ruin of me: what might I

  not have been now but for that wig!

  "I gave it over to Ensign Macshane, and with it went what I had

  quite forgotten, the large patch which I wore over one eye, which

  popped out fierce, staring, and lively as was ever any eye in the

  world.

  "'Come on!' says I, and made a lunge at my Count; but he sprang back

  (the dog was as active as a hare, and knew, from old times, that I

  was his master with the small-sword), and his second, wondering,

  struck up my blade.

  "'I will not fight that man,' says he, looking mighty pale. 'I

  swear upon my honour that his name is Peter Brock: he was for two

  years my corporal, and deserted, running away with a thousand pounds

  of my moneys. Look at the fellow! What is the matter with his eye?

  why did he wear a patch over it? But stop!' says he. 'I have more

  proof. Hand me my pocket-book.' And from it, sure enough, he

  produced the infernal proclamation announcing my desertion! 'See if

  the fellow has a scar across his left ear' (and I can't say, my

  dear, but what I have: it was done by a cursed Dutchman at the

  Boyne). 'Tell me if he has not got C.R. in blue upon his right arm'

  (and there it is sure enough). 'Yonder swaggering Irishman may be

  his accomplice for what I know; but I will have no dealings with Mr.

  Brock, save with a constable for a second.'

  "'This is an odd story, Captain Wood,' said the old Major who acted

  for the Count.

  "'A scounthrelly falsehood regarding me and my friend!' shouted out

  Mr. Macshane; 'and the Count shall answer for it.'

  "'Stop, stop!' says the Major. 'Captain Wood is too gallant a

  gentleman, I am sure, not to satisfy the Count; and will show us

  that he has no such mark on his arm as only private soldiers put

  there.'

  "'Captain Wood,' says I, 'will do no such thing, Major. I'll fight

  that scoundrel Galgenstein, or you, or any of you, like a man of

  honour; but I won't submit to be searched like a thief!'

  "'No, in coorse,' said Macshane.

  "'I must take my man off the ground,' says the Major.

  "'Well, take him, sir,' says I, in a rage; 'and just let me have the

  pleasure of telling him that he's a coward and a liar; and that my

  lodgings are in Piccadilly, where, if ever he finds courage to meet

  me, he may hear of me!'

  "'Faugh! I shpit on ye all,' cries my gallant ally Macshane. And

  sure enough he kept his word, or all but--suiting the action to it

  at any rate.

  "And so we gathered up our clothes, and went back in our separate

  coaches, and no blood spilt.

  "'And is it thrue now,' said Mr. Macshane, when we were alone--'is

  it thrue now, all these divvles have been saying?' 'Ensign,' says

  I, 'you're a man of the world?'

  "''Deed and I am, and insign these twenty-two years.'

  "'Perhaps you'd like a few pieces?' says I.

  "'Faith and I should; for to tell you the secred thrut, I've not

  tasted mate these four days.'

  "'Well then, Ensign, it IS true,' says I; 'and as for meat, you

  shall have some at the first cook-shop.' I bade the coach stop

  until he bought a plateful, which he ate in the carriage, for my

  time was precious. I just told him the whole story: at which he

  laughed, and swore that it was the best piece of GENERALSHIP he ever

  heard on. When his belly was full, I took out a couple of guineas

  and gave them to him. Mr. Macshane began to cry at this, and kissed

  me, and swore he never would
desert me: as, indeed, my dear, I

  don't think he will; for we have been the best of friends ever

  since, and he's the only man I ever could trust, I think.

  "I don't know what put it into my head, but I had a scent of some

  mischief in the wind; so stopped the coach a little before I got

  home, and, turning into a tavern, begged Macshane to go before me to

  my lodging, and see if the coast was clear: which he did; and came

  back to me as pale as death, saying that the house was full of

  constables. The cursed quarrel at the Tilt-yard had, I suppose, set

  the beaks upon me; and a pretty sweep they made of it. Ah, my dear!

  five hundred pounds in money, five suits of laced clothes, three

  periwigs, besides laced shirts, swords, canes, and snuff-boxes; and

  all to go back to that scoundrel Count.

  "It was all over with me, I saw--no more being a gentleman for me;

  and if I remained to be caught, only a choice between Tyburn and a

  file of grenadiers. My love, under such circumstances, a gentleman

  can't be particular, and must be prompt; the livery-stable was hard

  by where I used to hire my coach to go to Court,--ha! ha!--and was

  known as a man of substance. Thither I went immediately. 'Mr.

  Warmmash,' says I, 'my gallant friend here and I have a mind for a

  ride and a supper at Twickenham, so you must lend us a pair of your

  best horses.' Which he did in a twinkling, and off we rode.

  "We did not go into the Park, but turned off and cantered smartly up

  towards Kilburn; and, when we got into the country, galloped as if

  the devil were at our heels. Bless you, my love, it was all done in

  a minute: and the Ensign and I found ourselves regular knights of

  the road, before we knew where we were almost. Only think of our

  finding you and your new husband at the 'Three Rooks'! There's not

  a greater fence than the landlady in all the country. It was she

  that put us on seizing your husband, and introduced us to the other

  two gentlemen, whose names I don't know any more than the dead."

  "And what became of the horses?" said Mrs. Catherine to Mr. Brock,

  when his tale was finished.

  "Rips, madam," said he; "mere rips. We sold them at Stourbridge

  fair, and got but thirteen guineas for the two."

  "And--and--the Count, Max; where is he, Brock?" sighed she.

  "Whew!" whistled Mr. Brock. "What, hankering after him still? My

  dear, he is off to Flanders with his regiment; and, I make no doubt,

  there have been twenty Countesses of Galgenstein since your time."

  "I don't believe any such thing, sir," said Mrs. Catherine, starting

  up very angrily.

  "If you did, I suppose you'd laudanum him; wouldn't you?"

  "Leave the room, fellow," said the lady. But she recollected

  herself speedily again; and, clasping her hands, and looking very

  wretched at Brock, at the ceiling, at the floor, at her husband

  (from whom she violently turned away her head), she began to cry

  piteously: to which tears the Corporal set up a gentle

  accompaniment of whistling, as they trickled one after another down

  her nose.

  I don't think they were tears of repentance; but of regret for the

  time when she had her first love, and her fine clothes, and her

  white hat and blue feather. Of the two, the Corporal's whistle was

  much more innocent than the girl's sobbing: he was a rogue; but a

  good-natured old fellow when his humour was not crossed. Surely our

  novel-writers make a great mistake in divesting their rascals of all

  gentle human qualities: they have such--and the only sad point to

  think of is, in all private concerns of life, abstract feelings, and

  dealings with friends, and so on, how dreadfully like a rascal is to

  an honest man. The man who murdered the Italian boy, set him first

  to play with his children whom he loved, and who doubtless deplored

  his loss.