Part 10 (1/2)
”The finest of all boys,” exclaimed Jack, with a kindred enthusiasm, ”are those birds of the night, and minions of the moon, whom we call, most unjustly, poachers. They are, after all, only _professional sportsmen_, making a business of what we make a pleasure; a nightly pursuit of what is to us a daily relaxation; there's the main distinction. As to the rest, it's all in idea; they merely thin an overstocked park, as _you_ would reduce a plethoric patient, doctor; or as _you_ would work a moneyed client, if you got him into Chancery, Mister Attorney. And then how much more scientifically and systematically they set to work than we amateurs do! how noiselessly they bag a hare, smoke a pheasant, or knock a buck down with an air-gun!
how independent are they of any license, except that of a good eye, and a swift pair of legs! how unnecessary is it for them to ask permission to shoot over Mr. So-and-so's grounds, or my Lord That's preserves!
they are free of every cover, and indifferent to any alteration in the game laws. I've some thoughts, when everything else fails, of taking to poaching myself. In my opinion, a poacher's a highly respectable character. What say you, Mr. Coates?” turning very gravely to that gentleman.
”Such a question, sir,” replied Coates, bridling up, ”scarcely deserves a serious answer. I make no doubt you will next maintain that a highwayman is a gentleman.”
”Most undoubtedly,” replied Palmer, in the same grave tone, which might have pa.s.sed for banter, had Jack ever bantered. ”I'll maintain and prove it. I don't see how he can be otherwise. It is as necessary for a man to be a gentleman before he can turn highwayman, as it is for a doctor to have his diploma, or an attorney his certificate. Some of the finest gentlemen of their day, as Captain Lovelace, Hind, Hannum, and Dudley, were eminent on the road, and they set the fas.h.i.+on. Ever since their day a real highwayman would consider himself disgraced, if he did not conduct himself in every way like a gentleman. Of course, there are pretenders in this line, as in everything else. But these are only exceptions, and prove the rule. What are the distinguis.h.i.+ng characteristics of a fine gentleman?--perfect knowledge of the world--perfect independence of character--notoriety--command of cash--and inordinate success with the women. You grant all these premises? First, then, it is part of a highwayman's business to be thoroughly acquainted with the world. He is the easiest and pleasantest fellow going. There is Tom King, for example: he is the handsomest man about town, and the best-bred fellow on the road. Then whose inclinations are so uncontrolled as the highwayman's, so long as the mopuses last? who produces so great an effect by so few words?--'STAND AND DELIVER!' is sure to arrest attention. Every one is captivated by an address so _taking_. As to money, he wins a purse of a hundred guineas as easily as you would the same sum from the faro table. And wherein lies the difference? only in the name of the game. Who so little need of a banker as he? all he has to apprehend is a check--all he has to draw is a trigger. As to the women, they dote upon him: not even your red-coat is so successful. Look at a highwayman mounted on his flying steed, with his pistols in his holsters, and his mask upon his face.
What can be a more gallant sight? The clatter of his horse's heels is like music to his ear--he is in full quest--he shouts to the fugitive horseman to stay--the other flies all the faster--what chase can be half so exciting as that? Suppose he overtakes his prey, which ten to one he will, how readily his summons to deliver is obeyed! how satisfactory is the appropriation of a l.u.s.ty purse or corpulent pocket-book!--getting the brush is nothing to it. How tranquilly he departs, takes off his hat to his accommodating acquaintance, wishes him a pleasant journey, and disappears across the heath! England, sir, has reason to be proud of her highwaymen. They are peculiar to her clime, and are as much before the brigand of Italy, the contrabandist of Spain, or the cut-purse of France--as her sailors are before all the rest of the world. The day will never come, I hope, when we shall degenerate into the footpad, and lose our _Night Errantry_. Even the French borrow from us--they have only one highwayman of eminence, and he learnt and practised his art in England.”
”And who was he, may I ask?” said Coates.
”Claude Du-Val,” replied Jack; ”and though a Frenchman, he was a deuced fine fellow in his day--quite a tip-top macaroni--he could skip and twirl like a figurant, warble like an opera-singer, and play the flageolet better than any man of his day--he always carried a lute in his pocket, along with his snappers. And then his dress--it was quite beautiful to see how smartly he was rigg'd out, all velvet and lace; and even with his vizard on his face, the ladies used to cry out to see him.
Then he took a purse with the air and grace of a receiver-general. All the women adored him--and that, bless their pretty faces! was the best proof of his gentility. I wish he'd not been a Mounseer. The women never mistake. _They_ can always discover the true gentlemen, and they were all, of every degree, from the countess to the kitchen-maid, over head and ears in love with him.”
”But he was taken, I suppose?” asked Coates.
”Ay,” responded Jack, ”the women were his undoing, as they've been many a brave fellow's before, and will be again.” Touched by which reflection, Jack became for once in his life sentimental, and sighed.
”Poor Du-Val! he was seized at the Hole-in-the-Wall in Chandos-street by the bailiff of Westminster, when dead drunk, his liquor having been drugged by his dells--and was shortly afterwards hanged at Tyburn.”
”It was thousand pities,” said Mr. Coates, with a sneer, ”that so fine a gentleman should come to so ignominious an end!”
”Quite the contrary,” returned Jack. ”As his biographer, Doctor Pope, properly remarks, 'Who is there worthy of the name of man, that would not prefer such a death before a mean, solitary, inglorious life?'
By-the-by, t.i.tus, as we're upon the subject, if you like I'll sing you a song about highwaymen.”
”I should like it of all things,” replied t.i.tus, who entertained a very favorable opinion of Jack's vocal powers, and was by no means an indifferent performer; ”only let it be in a minor key.”
Jack required no further encouragement, but disregarding the hints and looks of Coates, sang with much unction the following ballad to a good old tune, then very popular--the merit of which ”n.o.body can deny.”
A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN
Of every rascal of every kind, The most notorious to my mind, Was the Cavalier Captain, gay JEMMY HIND![7]
_Which n.o.body can deny._
But the pleasantest c.o.xcomb among them all For lute, coranto, and madrigal, Was the galliard Frenchman, CLAUDE DU-VAL![8]
_Which n.o.body can deny._
And Tobygloak never a coach could rob, Could lighten a pocket, or empty a fob, With a neater hand than OLD MOB, OLD MOB![9]
_Which n.o.body can deny._
Nor did housebreaker ever deal harder knocks On the stubborn lid of a good strong box, Than that prince of good fellows, TOM c.o.x, TOM c.o.x![10]
_Which n.o.body can deny._
A blither fellow on broad highway, Did never with oath bid traveller stay, Than devil-may-care WILL HOLLOWAY![11]
_Which n.o.body can deny._
And in roguery naught could exceed the tricks Of GETTINGS and GREY, and the five or six Who trod in the steps of bold NEDDY WICKS![12]
_Which n.o.body can deny._
Nor could any so handily break a lock As SHEPPARD, who stood on the Newgate dock, And nicknamed the jailers around him ”_his flock_!”[13]