Shrewsbury: A Romance

  CHAPTER X

  At this point, it becomes me to pause. I set out, the reader willremember, to furnish such a narrative of the events attending my firstmeeting with my honoured patron, as taken with a brief account ofmyself might enable all to pursue with insight as well as advantagethe details of my later connection with him. And this being done, andbearing in mind that Sir John Fenwick did not suffer for hisconspiracy until 1696, and that consequently a period of thirteenyears divided the former events, which I have related, from thosewhich follow--and which have to do, as I intimated at the outset, withmy lord's alleged cognisance of that conspiracy--some may, and withimpatience, look to me to proceed at once to the gist of the matter.Which I propose to do; but first to crave the reader's indulgence,while in a very hasty and perfunctory manner I trace my humblefortunes in the interval; whereby time will in the end be saved.

  That arriving in London, as I have related, a fugitive, penniless andhomeless, in fear of the law, I contrived to keep out of the beadle'shands, and was neither whipped for a vagrant at Bridewell, nor starvedoutright in the streets, I attribute to most singular good fortune;which not only rescued me (_statim_) from a great and instant dangerthat all but engulfed me, but within a few hours found for me honestand constant employment, and that of an uncommon kind.

  It so happened that, perplexed by the clamour of the great city,wherein all faces were new to me and ways alike, I came to a standabout noon in the neighbourhood of Newgate Market; where, confidentthat in the immense and never-ceasing tide of life that ebbs and flowsin that quarter, I was safe from recognition, I ventured to sell anundergarment in a small shop in an alley, and buying a loaf with theprice, satisfied my hunger. But the return of strength was accompaniedby no return of hope; rather, my prime necessity supplied, I felt theforlornness of my position more acutely. In which condition, having noresource but to wander aimlessly from one street to another while thedaylight lasted--and after that no prospect at all except to pass thenight in the same manner--I came presently into Little Britain, andstopped, as luck would have it, before one of the bookshops that crowdthat part. A number of persons were poring over the books, and Ijoined them; but I had not stood a moment, idly scanning the backs ofthe volumes, before one of my neighbours touched my elbow, and when Iturned and met his eyes, nodded to me. "A scholar?" he said, smilingpleasantly through a pair of glasses. "Ah, how ill does the muserequite her worshippers. From the country, my friend?"

  I answered that I was; and seeing him to be a man well on in years,clad in good broadcloth, and of a sober, substantial aspect, I salutedhim abjectly.

  "To be sure," he said, again nodding cheerfully. "And a stranger tothe town I expect?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "And a reader? A reader? Ah, how ill does the muse---- But you _can_read?" he ejaculated, breaking off somewhat suddenly.

  I said I could, and to convince him read off the names of several ofthe volumes before me. I remembered afterwards that instead of lookingat them to see if I read aright, he kept his eyes on my face.

  "Good!" he said, stopping me when I had deciphered half-a-dozen. "Youdo your schoolmaster credit, my lad. Such a man should not want, andyet you look----frankly, my friend, are you in need of employment?"

  He asked the question with so much benevolence, and looked at me withso good-natured a twinkle in his eyes, that my tears nearlyoverflowed, and I had much ado to answer him. "Yes," I said. "Andwithout friends, sir."

  "Indeed, indeed," quoth he. "Well, I must do what I can. And first,you may do me a service, which in any case shall not go unrequited.Come this way."

  Without waiting for an answer he led me into the mouth of a court hardby, where we were less open to observation; there, pointing to a shopat a little distance from that at which he had found me, he explainedthat he wished to purchase a copy of _Selden's Baronage_ that stood atthe front of the stall, but that the tradesman knew him and wouldovercharge him. "So do you go and buy it for me, my friend," hecontinued, chuckling over his innocent subterfuge, with a simplicitythat took with me immensely. "It should be half-a-guinea. There is aguinea"--and he lugged one out. "Buy the book and bring the change tome, and it shall be something in your pocket. Alas, that the museshould so ill---- But there, go, go, my lad," he continued, "andremember _Selden's Baronage_, half-a-guinea. And not a penny more!"

  Delighted with the luck which had found me such a patron, and anxiousto acquit myself to the best advantage I hurried to do his bidding;first making sure that I knew where to find him. The shop he hadpointed out, which was surmounted by the sign of a gun, and appearedto enjoy no small share of public favour, was full of persons readingand talking; but almost the first book on which my eyes alighted was_Selden's Baronage_, and the tradesman when I applied to him made nodifficulty about the price, saying at once that it was half-a-guinea.I handed him my money, and without breaking off his talk with acustomer, he was counting the change, when something in my aspectstruck him, and he looked at the guinea. On which he muttered an oathand thrust it back into my hand.

  "It will not do," he said angrily. "Begone!"

  I was quite taken aback: the more as several persons looked up fromtheir books, and his immediate companion, a meagre dry-looking man ina snuff-coloured suit, fell to staring at me. "What do you mean?" Istammered.

  "You know very well," the tradesman answered me roughly. "And hadbetter be gone! And more, I tell you, if you want a hemp collar, myman, you are in the way to get one!"

  "Clipped?" quoth the dry-looking man.

  "New clipped and bright at the edges!" the bookseller answered. "Nowgo, my man, and be thankful I don't send for a constable."

  At that I shrank away, two or three of the customers coming to thedoor to see me out, and watching which way I turned. This, Isuppose--though I was then, and for a little time longer in doubtabout him--was the reason why I could see nothing of my charitablefriend, when I returned to the place where I had left him. I lookedthis way and that, but he was gone; and though, not knowing what elseto do, and having still the guinea in my possession, I lingered aboutthe mouth of the court for an hour or more, looking for him, he didnot return.

  At the end of that time the meagre dry man whom I had seen in the shoppassed with a book under his arm; and seeing me, after a moment'shesitation stood and spoke to me. "Well, my friend?" said he, lookinghard at me. "Are you waiting for the halter?"

  I told him civilly, no; but that the gentleman who had given me theguinea to change had bidden me return to him there.

  "And he is not here?" he said with a sneer.

  "No," I said.

  He stared at me, wondering at the simplicity of my answer; and then,"Well, you are either the biggest fool or the biggest knave within thebills!" he exclaimed. "Are you straight from Gotham?"

  "No," I told him. "From the north." And that I wanted employment.

  "You are like to get it--at the Plantations!" he answered savagely,taking snuff. I remarked that neither his hands nor his linen were ofthe cleanest, and that the former were stained with ink. "What areyou?" he continued, presently, in the same snappish, churlish tone.

  I told him a schoolmaster.

  "_Exempli gratia_," he answered quickly, and turning to the neareststall, he indicated the title-page of a book. "Read me that, MasterSchoolmaster."

  I did so. He grunted; and then, "You write? Show me your hand."

  I said I had no paper or ink there, but that if he would take me----

  "Pooh, man, are you a fool?" he cried, impatiently. "Show me yourright hand, middle finger, and I will find you _scribit_ or _nonscribit_. So! And you want work?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Hard work and little pay?"

  I said I wanted to make my living.

  "Ay, and maybe the first time you come to me, you will cut my throat,and rob my desk," he answered gruffly. "Hm! That touches you home,does it? However, ask for me to-morrow, at seven in the forenoon--Mr.Timothy Brome, at the sign of the Black B
oy in Fleet Street."

  Now I was overjoyed, indeed. With such a prospect of employment, itseemed to me a small thing that I must pass the night in the streets;but even that I escaped. For when he was about to part from me, heasked me what money I had. None, I told him, "except the clippedguinea."

  "And I suppose you expect me to give you a shilling earnest?" heanswered, irascibly. "But no, no, Timothy Brome is no fool. See here,"he continued, slapping his pocket and looking shrewdly at me, "thatguinea is not worth a groat to you; except to hang you."

  "No," I said, ruefully.

  "Well, I will give you five shillings for it, as gold, mind you; asgold, and not to pass. Are you content?"

  "It is not mine," I said doubtfully.

  "Take it or leave it!" he said, screwing up his eyes, and so plainlypleased with the bargain he was driving that I had no inkling of thekind heart that underlay that crabbed manner. "Take it or leave it, myman."

  Thus pressed, and my mind retaining no real doubt of the knavery ofthe man who had entrusted the guinea to me, I handed it to my newfriend, and received in return a crown. And this being my lastdisposition of money not my own, I think it a fit season to recordthat from that day to this I have been enabled by God's help and man'skindness to keep the eighth commandment; and earning honestly what Ihave spent have been poor, but never a beggar.

  In gratitude for which, and both those good men being now dead, I hereconjoin the names of Mr. Timothy Brome, of Fleet Street, newsmongerand author, whose sharp tongue and morose manners cloaked a hundredbenefactions; and of Charles, Duke of Shrewsbury, my honoured patron,who never gave but his smile doubled the gift which his humanitydictated.

  The reader will believe that punctually on the morrow I went with joyand thankfulness to my new master, whom I found up three pairs ofstairs in a room barely furnished, but heaped in every part with pilesof manuscripts and dogs-eared books, and all so covered with dust thattype and script were alike illegible. He wore a dingy morning-gown andhad laid aside his wig; but the air of importance with which he noddedto me and a sort of dignity that clothed him as he walked to and froon the ink-stained floor mightily impressed me, and drove me to wonderwhat sort of trade was carried on here. He continued, for some minutesafter I entered, to declaim one fine sentence after another, rollingthe long words over his tongue with a great appearance of enjoyment: aprocess which he only interrupted to point me to a stool and desk,and cry with averted eyes--lest he should cut the thread of histhoughts--"Write!"

  "HE WORE A DINGY MORNING-GOWN AND HAD LAID ASIDE HISWIG"]

  On my hesitating, "Write!" he repeated, in the tone of one commandinga thousand troopers. And then he spoke thus--and as he spoke Iwrote:--

  "This day His Gracious Majesty, whose health appears to be completelyrestored, went, accompanied by the French Ambassador and a brilliantcompany, to take the air in the Mall. Despatches from Holland say thatthe Duke of Monmouth has arrived at the Hague and has been wellreceived. Letters from the West say that the city of Bristol having awell-founded confidence in the Royal Clemency has hastened to lay itsCharter at His Majesty's feet. The 30th of the month began theSessions at the Old Bailey, and held the first and second of this;where seventeen persons received sentence of death, nine to be burnedin the hand, seven to be transported, and eleven ordered to bewhipped. Yesterday, or this day, a commission was sealed appointingthe Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys----"