Part 19 (1/2)

”No,” said I, ”we are parted for ever.”

”For ever! Pooh! you little know how people sometimes come together again who think they are parted for ever. Here's something on that point relating to myself. You remember, when I told you my story in that dingle of yours, that I mentioned a young woman, my fellow-servant when I lived with the English family in Mumbo Jumbo's town, and how she and I, when our foolish governors were thinking of changing their religion, agreed to stand by each other, and be true to old Church of England, and to give our governors warning, provided they tried to make us renegades.

Well, she and I parted soon after that, and never to meet again, yet we met the other day in the fields, for she lately came to live with a great family not far from here, and we have since agreed to marry, to take a little farm, for we have both a trifle of money, and live together till 'death us do part.' So much for parting for ever! But what do I mean by keeping you broiling in the sun with your horse's bridle in your hand, and you on my own ground? Do you know where you are? Why, that great house is my inn, that is, it's my master's, the best fellow in ---. Come along, you and your horse both will find a welcome at my inn.”

Thereupon he led the way into a large court in which there were coaches, chaises, and a great many people; taking my horse from me, he led it into a nice cool stall, and fastened it to the rack--he then conducted me into a postillion's keeping-room, which at that time chanced to be empty, and he then fetched a pot of beer and sat down by me.

After a little conversation he asked me what I intended to do, and I told him frankly that I did not know; whereupon he observed that, provided I had no objection, he had little doubt that I could be accommodated for some time at his inn. ”Our upper ostler,” said he, ”died about a week ago; he was a clever fellow, and, besides his trade, understood reading and accounts.”

”Dear me,” said I, interrupting him, ”I am not fitted for the place of ostler--moreover, I refused the place of ostler at a public-house, which was offered to me only a few days ago.” The postillion burst into a laugh. ”Ostler at a public-house, indeed! why, you would not compare a berth at a place like that with the situation of ostler at my inn, the first road-house in England! However, I was not thinking of the place of ostler for you; you are, as you say, not fitted for it, at any rate, not at a house like this. We have, moreover, the best under-ostler in all England--old Bill, with the drawback that he is rather fond of drink. We could make s.h.i.+ft with him very well, provided we could fall in with a man of writing and figures, who could give an account of the hay and corn which comes in and goes out, and wouldn't object to give a look occasionally at the yard. Now it appears to me that you are just such a kind of man, and, if you will allow me to speak to the governor, I don't doubt that he will gladly take you, as he feels kindly disposed towards you from what he has heard me say concerning you.”

”And what should I do with my horse?” said I.

”The horse need give you no uneasiness,” said the postillion; ”I know he will be welcome here both for bed and manger, and, perhaps, in a little time you may find a purchaser, as a vast number of sporting people frequent this house.” I offered two or three more objections, which the postillion overcame with great force of argument, and the pot being nearly empty, he drained it to the bottom drop, and then starting up, left me alone.

In about twenty minutes he returned, accompanied by a highly intelligent- looking individual, dressed in blue and black, with a particularly white cravat, and without a hat on his head: this individual, whom I should have mistaken for a gentleman but for the intelligence depicted in his face, he introduced to me as the master of the inn. The master of the inn shook me warmly by the hand, told me that he was happy to see me in his house, and thanked me in the handsomest terms for the kindness I had shown to his servant in the affair of the thunderstorm. Then saying that he was informed I was out of employ, he a.s.sured me that he should be most happy to engage me to keep his hay and corn account, and as general superintendent of the yard, and that with respect to the horse, which he was told I had, he begged to inform me that I was perfectly at liberty to keep it at the inn upon the very best, until I could find a purchaser,--that with regard to wages--but he had no sooner mentioned wages than I cut him short, saying, that provided I stayed I should be most happy to serve him for bed and board, and requested that he would allow me until the next morning to consider of his offer; he willingly consented to my request, and, begging that I would call for anything I pleased, left me alone with the postillion.

I pa.s.sed that night until about ten o'clock with the postillion, when he left me, having to drive a family about ten miles across the country; before his departure, however, I told him that I had determined to accept the offer of his governor, as he called him. At the bottom of my heart I was most happy that an offer had been made, which secured to myself and the animal a comfortable retreat at a moment when I knew not whither in the world to take myself and him.

CHAPTER XXIV

An Inn of Times gone by--A First-rate Publican--Hay and Corn--Old-fas.h.i.+oned Ostler--Highwaymen--Mounted Police--Grooming.

The inn, of which I had become an inhabitant, was a place of infinite life and bustle. Travellers of all descriptions, from all the cardinal points, were continually stopping at it; and to attend to their wants, and minister to their convenience, an army of servants, of one description or other, was kept; waiters, chambermaids, grooms, postillions, shoe-blacks, cooks, scullions, and what not, for there was a barber and hair-dresser, who had been at Paris, and talked French with a c.o.c.kney accent; the French sounding all the better, as no accent is so melodious as the c.o.c.kney. Jacks creaked in the kitchens turning round spits, on which large joints of meat piped and smoked before great big fires. There was running up and down stairs, and along galleries, slamming of doors, cries of ”Coming, sir,” and ”Please to step this way, ma'am,” during eighteen hours of the four-and-twenty. Truly a very great place for life and bustle was this inn. And often in after life, when lonely and melancholy, I have called up the time I spent there, and never failed to become cheerful from the recollection.

I found the master of the house a very kind and civil person. Before being an inn-keeper he had been in some other line of business; but on the death of the former proprietor of the inn had married his widow, who was still alive, but, being somewhat infirm, lived in a retired part of the house. I have said that he was kind and civil; he was, however, not one of those people who suffer themselves to be made fools of by anybody; he knew his customers, and had a calm, clear eye, which would look through a man without seeming to do so. The accommodation of his house was of the very best description; his wines were good, his viands equally so, and his charges not immoderate; though he very properly took care of himself. He was no vulgar inn-keeper, had a host of friends, and deserved them all. During the time I lived with him, he was presented by a large a.s.semblage of his friends and customers with a dinner at his own house, which was very costly, and at which the best of wines were sported, and after the dinner with a piece of plate estimated at fifty guineas. He received the plate, made a neat speech of thanks, and when the bill was called for, made another neat speech, in which he refused to receive one farthing for the entertainment, ordering in at the same time two dozen more of the best champagne, and sitting down amidst uproarious applause, and cries of ”You shall be no loser by it!” Nothing very wonderful in such conduct, some people will say; I don't say there is, nor have I any intention to endeavour to persuade the reader that the landlord was a Carlo Boromeo; he merely gave a quid pro quo; but it is not every person who will give you a quid pro quo. Had he been a vulgar publican, he would have sent in a swinging bill after receiving the plate; ”but then no vulgar publican would have been presented with plate;” perhaps not, but many a vulgar public character has been presented with plate, whose admirers never received a quid pro quo, except in the shape of a swinging bill.

I found my duties of distributing hay and corn, and keeping an account thereof, anything but disagreeable, particularly after I had acquired the good-will of the old ostler, who at first looked upon me with rather an evil eye, considering me somewhat in the light of one who had usurped an office which belonged to himself by the right of succession; but there was little gall in the old fellow, and, by speaking kindly to him, never giving myself any airs of a.s.sumption; but, above all, by frequently reading the newspapers to him--for though pa.s.sionately fond of news and politics, he was unable to read--I soon succeeded in placing myself on excellent terms with him. A regular character was that old ostler; he was a Yorks.h.i.+reman by birth, but had seen a great deal of life in the vicinity of London, to which, on the death of his parents, who were very poor people, he went at a very early age. Amongst other places where he had served as ostler was a small inn at Hounslow, much frequented by highwaymen, whose exploits he was fond of narrating, especially those of Jerry Abershaw, who, he said, was a capital rider; and on hearing his accounts of that worthy, I half regretted that the old fellow had not been in London, and I had not formed his acquaintance about the time I was thinking of writing the life of the said Abershaw, not doubting that with his a.s.sistance, I could have produced a book at least as remarkable as the life and adventures of that entirely imaginary personage Joseph Sell; perhaps, however, I was mistaken; and whenever Abershaw's life shall appear before the public--and my publisher credibly informs me that it has not yet appeared--I beg and entreat the public to state which it likes best, the life of Abershaw, or that of Sell, for which latter work I am informed that during the last few months there has been a prodigious demand. My old friend, however, after talking of Abershaw, would frequently add, that, good rider as Abershaw certainly was, he was decidedly inferior to Richard Ferguson, generally called Galloping d.i.c.k, who was a pal of Abershaw's, and had enjoyed a career as long, and nearly as remarkable as his own. I learned from him that both were capital customers at the Hounslow inn, and that he had frequently drank with them in the corn-room. He said that no man could desire more jolly or entertaining companions over a gla.s.s of ”summut;” but that upon the road it was anything but desirable to meet them; there they were terrible, cursing and swearing, and thrusting the muzzles of their pistols into people's mouths; and at this part of his locution the old man winked, and said, in a somewhat lower voice, that upon the whole they were right in doing so, and that when a person had once made up his mind to become a highwayman, his best policy was to go the whole hog, fearing nothing, but making everybody afraid of him; that people never thought of resisting a savage-faced, foul-mouthed highwayman, and if he were taken, were afraid to bear witness against him, lest he should get off and cut their throats some time or other upon the roads; whereas people would resist being robbed by a sneaking, pale-visaged rascal, and would swear bodily against him on the first opportunity,--adding, that Abershaw and Ferguson, two most awful fellows, had enjoyed a long career, whereas two disbanded officers of the army, who wished to rob a coach like gentlemen, had begged the pa.s.sengers' pardon, and talked of hard necessity, had been set upon by the pa.s.sengers themselves, amongst whom were three women, pulled from their horses, conducted to Maidstone, and hanged with as little pity as such contemptible fellows deserved. ”There is nothing like going the whole hog,” he repeated, ”and if ever I had been a highwayman, I would have done so; I should have thought myself all the more safe; and, moreover, shouldn't have despised myself. To curry favour with those you are robbing, sometimes at the expense of your own comrades, as I have known fellows do, why, it is the greatest--”

”So it is,” interposed my friend the postillion, who chanced to be present at a considerable part of the old ostler's discourse; ”it is, as you say, the greatest of humbug, and merely, after all, gets a fellow into trouble; but no regular bred highwayman would do it. I say, George, catch the Pope of Rome trying to curry favour with anybody he robs; catch old Mumbo Jumbo currying favour with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Dean and Chapter, should he meet them in a stage-coach; it would be with him, Bricconi Abba.s.so, as he knocked their teeth out with the b.u.t.t of his trombone; and the old regular-built ruffian would be all the safer for it, as Bill would say, as ten to one the Archbishop and Chapter, after such a spice of his quality, would be afraid to swear against him, and to hang him, even if he were in their power, though that would be the proper way; for, if it is the greatest of all humbug for a highwayman to curry favour with those he robs, the next greatest is to try to curry favour with a highwayman when you have got him, by letting him off.”

Finding the old man so well acquainted with the history of highwaymen, and taking considerable interest in the subject, having myself edited a book containing the lives of many remarkable people who had figured on the highway, I forthwith asked him how it was that the trade of highwaymen had become extinct in England, as at present we never heard of any one following it. Whereupon he told me that many causes had contributed to bring about that result; the princ.i.p.al of which were the following:--the refusal to license houses which were known to afford shelter to highwaymen, which, amongst many others, had caused the inn at Hounslow to be closed; the inclosure of many a wild heath in the country, on which they were in the habit of lurking, and particularly the establis.h.i.+ng in the neighbourhood of London of a well-armed mounted patrol, who rode the highwaymen down, and delivered them up to justice, which hanged them without ceremony.

”And that would be the way to deal with Mumbo Jumbo and his gang,” said the postillion, ”should they show their visages in these realms; and I hear by the newspapers that they are becoming every day more desperate.

Take away the license from their public-houses, cut down the rookeries and shadowy old avenues in which they are fond of lying in wait, in order to sally out upon people as they pa.s.s in the roads; but, above all, establish a good mounted police to ride after the ruffians and drag them by the scruff of the neck to the next clink, where they might lie till they could be properly dealt with by law; instead of which, the Government are repealing the wise old laws enacted against such characters, giving fresh licenses every day to their public-houses, and saying that it would be a pity to cut down their rookeries and thickets because they look so very picturesque; and, in fact, giving them all kind of encouragement; why, if such behaviour is not enough to drive an honest man mad, I know not what is. It is of no use talking, I only wish the power were in my hands, and if I did not make short work of them, might I be a mere jacka.s.s postillion all the remainder of my life.”

Besides acquiring from the ancient ostler a great deal of curious information respecting the ways and habits of the heroes of the road, with whom he had come in contact in the early portion of his life, I picked up from him many excellent hints relating to the art of grooming horses. Whilst at the inn, I frequently groomed the stage and post-horses, and those driven up by travellers in their gigs: I was not compelled, nor indeed expected, to do so; but I took pleasure in the occupation; and I remember at that period one of the princ.i.p.al objects of my ambition was to be a first-rate groom, and to make the skins of the creatures I took in hand look sleek and glossy like those of moles. I have said that I derived valuable hints from the old man, and, indeed, became a very tolerable groom, but there was a certain finis.h.i.+ng touch which I could never learn from him, though he possessed it himself, and which I could never attain to by my own endeavours; though my want of success certainly did not proceed from want of application, for I have rubbed the horses down, purring and buzzing all the time, after the genuine ostler fas.h.i.+on, until the perspiration fell in heavy drops upon my shoes, and when I had done my best and asked the old fellow what he thought of my work, I could never extract from him more than a kind of grunt, which might be translated, ”Not so very bad, but I have seen a horse groomed much better,” which leads me to suppose that a person, in order to be a first-rate groom, must have something in him when he is born which I had not, and, indeed, which many other people have not who pretend to be grooms. What does the reader think?

CHAPTER XXV

Stable Hartshorn--How to Manage a Horse on a Journey--Your Best Friend.

Of one thing I am certain, that the reader must be much delighted with the wholesome smell of the stable, with which many of these pages are redolent; what a contrast to the sickly odours exhaled from those of some of my contemporaries, especially of those who pretend to be of the highly fas.h.i.+onable cla.s.s, and who treat of reception-rooms, well may they be styled so, in which dukes, d.u.c.h.esses, earls, countesses, archbishops, bishops, mayors, mayoresses--not forgetting the writers themselves, both male and female--congregate and press upon one another; how cheering, how refres.h.i.+ng, after having been nearly knocked down with such an atmosphere, to come in contact with genuine stable hartshorn. Oh! the reader shall have yet more of the stable, and of that old ostler, for which he or she will doubtless exclaim, ”Much obliged!”--and, lest I should forget to perform my promise, the reader shall have it now.

I shall never forget an harangue from the mouth of the old man, which I listened to one warm evening as he and I sat on the threshold of the stable, after having attended to some of the wants of a batch of coach- horses. It related to the manner in which a gentleman should take care of his horse and self, whilst engaged in a journey on horseback, and was addressed to myself, on the supposition of my one day coming to an estate, and of course becoming a gentleman.

”When you are a gentleman,” said he, ”should you ever wish to take a journey on a horse of your own, and you could not have a much better than the one you have here eating its fill in the box yonder--I wonder, by the bye, how you ever came by it--you can't do better than follow the advice I am about to give you, both with respect to your animal and yourself.