with his "Meejor."
"In coorse, you fool! and how? I'll tell you how. This Hayes is
well to do in the world, and--"
"And we'll nab him again--ha, ha!" roared out Macshane. "By my
secred honour, Meejor, there never was a gineral like you at a
strathyjam!"
"Peace, you bellowing donkey, and don't wake the child. The man is
well to do, his wife rules him, and they have no children. Now,
either she will be very glad to have the boy back again, and pay for
the finding of him, or else she has said nothing about him, and will
pay us for being silent too: or, at any rate, Hayes himself will be
ashamed at finding his wife the mother of a child a year older than
his marriage, and will pay for the keeping of the brat away.
There's profit, my dear, in any one of the cases, or my name's not
Peter Brock."
When the Ensign understood this wondrous argument, he would fain
have fallen on his knees and worshipped his friend and guide. They
began operations, almost immediately, by an attack on Mrs. Hayes.
On hearing, as she did in private interview with the ex-corporal the
next morning, that her son was found, she was agitated by both of
the passions which Wood attributed to her. She longed to have the
boy back, and would give any reasonable sum to see him; but she
dreaded exposure, and would pay equally to avoid that. How could
she gain the one point and escape the other?
Mrs. Hayes hit upon an expedient which, I am given to understand, is
not uncommon nowadays. She suddenly discovered that she had a dear
brother, who had been obliged to fly the country in consequence of
having joined the Pretender, and had died in France, leaving behind
him an only son. This boy her brother had, with his last breath,
recommended to her protection, and had confided him to the charge of
a brother officer who was now in the country, and would speedily
make his appearance; and, to put the story beyond a doubt, Mr. Wood
wrote the letter from her brother stating all these particulars, and
Ensign Macshane received full instructions how to perform the part
of the "brother officer." What consideration Mr. Wood received for
his services, we cannot say; only it is well known that Mr. Hayes
caused to be committed to gaol a young apprentice in his service,
charged with having broken open a cupboard in which Mr. Hayes had
forty guineas in gold and silver, and to which none but he and his
wife had access.
Having made these arrangements, the Corporal and his little party
decamped to a short distance, and Mrs. Catherine was left to prepare
her husband for a speedy addition to his family, in the shape of
this darling nephew. John Hayes received the news with anything but
pleasure. He had never heard of any brother of Catherine's; she had
been bred at the workhouse, and nobody ever hinted that she had
relatives: but it is easy for a lady of moderate genius to invent
circumstances; and with lies, tears, threats, coaxings, oaths, and
other blandishments, she compelled him to submit.
Two days afterwards, as Mr. Hayes was working in his shop with his
lady seated beside him, the trampling of a horse was heard in his
courtyard, and a gentleman, of huge stature, descended from it, and
strode into the shop. His figure was wrapped in a large cloak; but
Mr. Hayes could not help fancying that he had somewhere seen his
face before.
"This, I preshoom," said the gentleman, "is Misther Hayes, that I
have come so many miles to see, and this is his amiable lady? I was
the most intimate frind, madam, of your laminted brother, who died
in King Lewis's service, and whose last touching letthers I
despatched to you two days ago. I have with me a further precious
token of my dear friend, Captain Hall--it is HERE."
And so saying, the military gentleman, with one arm, removed his
cloak, and stretching forward the other into Hayes's face almost,
stretched likewise forward a little boy, grinning and sprawling in
the air, and prevented only from falling to the ground by the hold
which the Ensign kept of the waistband of his little coat and
breeches.
"Isn't he a pretty boy?" said Mrs. Hayes, sidling up to her husband
tenderly, and pressing one of Mr. Hayes's hands.
* * *
About the lad's beauty it is needless to say what the carpenter
thought; but that night, and for many many nights after, the lad
stayed at Mr. Hayes's.
CHAPTER VIII. ENUMERATES THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF MASTER THOMAS
BILLINGS--INTRODUCES BROCK AS DOCTOR WOOD--AND ANNOUNCES THE
EXECUTION OF ENSIGN MACSHANE.
We are obliged, in recording this history, to follow accurately that
great authority, the "Calendarium Newgaticum Roagorumque
Registerium," of which every lover of literature, in the present day
knows the value; and as that remarkable work totally discards all
the unities in its narratives, and reckons the life of its heroes
only by their actions, and not by periods of time, we must follow in
the wake of this mighty ark--a humble cock-boat. When it pauses, we
pause; when it runs ten knots an hour, we run with the same
celerity; and as, in order to carry the reader from the penultimate
chapter of this work unto the last chapter, we were compelled to
make him leap over a gap of seven blank years, ten years more must
likewise be granted to us before we are at liberty to resume our
history.
During that period, Master Thomas Billings had been under the
especial care of his mother; and, as may be imagined, he rather
increased than diminished the accomplishments for which he had been
remarkable while under the roof of his foster-father. And with this
advantage, that while at the blacksmith's, and only three or four
years of age, his virtues were necessarily appreciated only in his
family circle and among those few acquaintances of his own time of
life whom a youth of three can be expected to meet in the alleys or
over the gutters of a small country hamlet,--in his mothers
residence, his circle extended with his own growth, and he began to
give proofs of those powers of which in infancy there had been only
encouraging indications. Thus it was nowise remarkable that a child
of four years should not know his letters, and should have had a
great disinclination to learn them; but when a young man of fifteen
showed the same creditable ignorance, the same undeviating dislike,
it was easy to see that he possessed much resolution and
perseverance. When it was remarked, too, that, in case of any
difference, he not only beat the usher, but by no means disdained to
torment and bully the very smallest boys of the school, it was easy
to see that his mind was comprehensive and careful, as well as
courageous and grasping. As it was said of the Duke of Wellington,
in the Peninsula, that he had a thought for everybody--from Lord
Hill to the smallest drummer in the army--in like manner Tom
Billings bestowed HIS attention on
high and low; but in the shape of
blows: he would fight the strongest and kick the smallest, and was
always at work with one or the other. At thirteen, when he was
removed from the establishment whither he had been sent, he was the
cock of the school out of doors, and the very last boy in. He used
to let the little boys and new-comers pass him by, and laugh; but he
always belaboured them unmercifully afterwards; and then it was, he
said, HIS turn to laugh. With such a pugnacious turn, Tom Billings
ought to have been made a soldier, and might have died a marshal;
but, by an unlucky ordinance of fate, he was made a tailor, and died
a--never mind what for the present; suffice it to say, that he was
suddenly cut off, at a very early period of his existence, by a
disease which has exercised considerable ravages among the British
youth.
By consulting the authority above mentioned, we find that Hayes did
not confine himself to the profession of a carpenter, or remain long
established in the country; but was induced, by the eager spirit of
Mrs. Catherine most probably, to try his fortune in the metropolis;
where he lived, flourished, and died. Oxford Road, Saint Giles's,
and Tottenham Court were, at various periods of his residence in
town, inhabited by him. At one place he carried on the business of
greengrocer and small-coalman; in another, he was carpenter,
undertaker, and lender of money to the poor; finally, he was a
lodging-house keeper in the Oxford or Tyburn Road; but continued to
exercise the last-named charitable profession.
Lending as he did upon pledges, and carrying on a pretty large
trade, it was not for him, of course, to inquire into the pedigree
of all the pieces of plate, the bales of cloth, swords, watches,
wigs, shoe-buckles, etc. that were confided by his friends to his
keeping; but it is clear that his friends had the requisite
confidence in him, and that he enjoyed the esteem of a class of
characters who still live in history, and are admired unto this very
day. The mind loves to think that, perhaps, in Mr. Hayes's back
parlour the gallant Turpin might have hob-and-nobbed with Mrs.
Catherine; that here, perhaps, the noble Sheppard might have cracked
his joke, or quaffed his pint of rum. Who knows but that Macheath
and Paul Clifford may have crossed legs under Hayes's dinner-table?
But why pause to speculate on things that might have been? why
desert reality for fond imagination, or call up from their honoured
graves the sacred dead? I know not: and yet, in sooth, I can never
pass Cumberland Gate without a sigh, as I think of the gallant
cavaliers who traversed that road in old time. Pious priests
accompanied their triumphs; their chariots were surrounded by hosts
of glittering javelin-men. As the slave at the car of the Roman
conqueror shouted, "Remember thou art mortal!", before the eyes of
the British warrior rode the undertaker and his coffin, telling him
that he too must die! Mark well the spot! A hundred years ago
Albion Street (where comic Power dwelt, Milesia's darling son)-
-Albion Street was a desert. The square of Connaught was without
its penultimate, and, strictly speaking, NAUGHT. The Edgware Road
was then a road, 'tis true; with tinkling waggons passing now and
then, and fragrant walls of snowy hawthorn blossoms. The ploughman
whistled over Nutford Place; down the green solitudes of Sovereign
Street the merry milkmaid led the lowing kine. Here, then, in the
midst of green fields and sweet air--before ever omnibuses were, and
when Pineapple Turnpike and Terrace were alike unknown--here stood
Tyburn: and on the road towards it, perhaps to enjoy the prospect,
stood, in the year 1725, the habitation of Mr. John Hayes.
One fine morning in the year 1725, Mrs. Hayes, who had been abroad
in her best hat and riding-hood; Mr. Hayes, who for a wonder had
accompanied her; and Mrs. Springatt, a lodger, who for a
remuneration had the honour of sharing Mrs. Hayes's friendship and
table: all returned, smiling and rosy, at about half-past ten
o'clock, from a walk which they had taken to Bayswater. Many
thousands of people were likewise seen flocking down the Oxford
Road; and you would rather have thought, from the smartness of their
appearance and the pleasure depicted in their countenances, that
they were just issuing from a sermon, than quitting the ceremony
which they had been to attend.
The fact is, that they had just been to see a gentleman hanged,--a
cheap pleasure, which the Hayes family never denied themselves; and
they returned home with a good appetite to breakfast, braced by the
walk, and tickled into hunger, as it were, by the spectacle. I can
recollect, when I was a gyp at Cambridge, that the "men" used to
have breakfast-parties for the very same purpose; and the exhibition
of the morning acted infallibly upon the stomach, and caused the
young students to eat with much voracity.
Well, Mrs. Catherine, a handsome, well-dressed, plump, rosy woman of
three or four and thirty (and when, my dear, is a woman handsomer
than at that age?), came in quite merrily from her walk, and entered
the back-parlour, which looked into a pleasant yard, or garden,
whereon the sun was shining very gaily; and where, at a table
covered with a nice white cloth, laid out with some silver mugs,
too, and knives, all with different crests and patterns, sat an old
gentleman reading in an old book.
"Here we are at last, Doctor," said Mrs. Hayes, "and here's his
speech." She produced the little halfpenny tract, which to this day
is sold at the gallows-foot upon the death of every offender. "I've
seen a many men turned off, to be sure; but I never did see one who
bore it more like a man than he did."
"My dear," said the gentleman addressed as Doctor, "he was as cool
and as brave as steel, and no more minded hanging than
tooth-drawing."
"It was the drink that ruined him," said Mrs. Cat.
"Drink, and bad company. I warned him, my dear,--I warned him years
ago: and directly he got into Wild's gang, I knew that he had not a
year to run. Ah, why, my love, will men continue such dangerous
courses," continued the Doctor, with a sigh, "and jeopardy their
lives for a miserable watch or a snuff-box, of which Mr. Wild takes
three-fourths of the produce? But here comes the breakfast; and,
egad, I am as hungry as a lad of twenty."
Indeed, at this moment Mrs. Hayes's servant appeared with a smoking
dish of bacon and greens; and Mr. Hayes himself ascended from the
cellar (of which he kept the key), bearing with him a tolerably
large jug of small-beer. To this repast the Doctor, Mrs. Springatt
(the other lodger), and Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, proceeded with great
alacrity. A fifth cover was laid, but not used; the company
remarking that "Tom had very likely found some acquaintances at
Tyburn, with whom he might choose to pass the morning."
Tom was Master Thomas Billings, now of the age of sixteen: s
lim,
smart, five feet ten inches in height, handsome, sallow in
complexion, black-eyed and black-haired. Mr. Billings was
apprentice to a tailor, of tolerable practice, who was to take him
into partnership at the end of his term. It was supposed, and with
reason, that Tom would not fail to make a fortune in this business;
of which the present head was one Beinkleider, a German.
Beinkleider was skilful in his trade (after the manner of his
nation, which in breeches and metaphysics--in inexpressibles and
incomprehensibles--may instruct all Europe), but too fond of his
pleasure. Some promissory notes of his had found their way into
Hayes's hands, and had given him the means not only of providing
Master Billings with a cheap apprenticeship, and a cheap partnership
afterwards; but would empower him, in one or two years after the
young partner had joined the firm, to eject the old one altogether.
So that there was every prospect that, when Mr. Billings was
twenty-one years of age, poor Beinkleider would have to act, not as
his master, but his journeyman.
Tom was a very precocious youth; was supplied by a doting mother
with plenty of pocket-money, and spent it with a number of lively
companions of both sexes, at plays, bull-baitings, fairs, jolly
parties on the river, and such-like innocent amusements. He could
throw a main, too, as well as his elders; had pinked his man, in a
row at Madam King's in the Piazza; and was much respected at the
Roundhouse.
Mr. Hayes was not very fond of this promising young gentleman;
indeed, he had the baseness to bear malice, because, in a quarrel
which occurred about two years previously, he, Hayes, being desirous
to chastise Mr. Billings, had found himself not only quite
incompetent, but actually at the mercy of the boy; who struck him
over the head with a joint-stool, felled him to the ground, and
swore he would have his life. The Doctor, who was then also a
lodger at Mr. Hayes's, interposed, and restored the combatants, not
to friendship, but to peace. Hayes never afterwards attempted to
lift his hand to the young man, but contented himself with hating
him profoundly. In this sentiment Mr. Billings participated
cordially; and, quite unlike Mr. Hayes, who never dared to show his
dislike, used on every occasion when they met, by actions, looks,
words, sneers, and curses, to let his stepfather know the opinion
which he had of him. Why did not Hayes discard the boy altogether?
Because, if he did so, he was really afraid of his life, and because
he trembled before Mrs. Hayes, his lady, as the leaf trembles before
the tempest in October. His breath was not his own, but hers; his
money, too, had been chiefly of her getting,--for though he was as
stingy and mean as mortal man can be, and so likely to save much, he
had not the genius for GETTING which Mrs. Hayes possessed. She kept
his books (for she had learned to read and write by this time), she
made his bargains, and she directed the operations of the
poor-spirited little capitalist. When bills became due, and debtors
pressed for time, then she brought Hayes's own professional merits
into play. The man was as deaf and cold as a rock; never did poor
tradesmen gain a penny from him; never were the bailiffs delayed one
single minute from their prey. The Beinkleider business, for
instance, showed pretty well the genius of the two. Hayes was for
closing with him at once; but his wife saw the vast profits which
might be drawn out of him, and arranged the apprenticeship and the
partnership before alluded to. The woman heartily scorned and spit
upon her husband, who fawned upon her like a spaniel. She loved
good cheer; she did not want for a certain kind of generosity. The
only feeling that Hayes had for anyone except himself was for his
wife, whom he held in a cowardly awe and attachment: he liked
drink, too, which made him chirping and merry, and accepted
willingly any treats that his acquaintances might offer him; but he
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