CHAPTER LXXXI.
Pectus praeceptis format amicis.
--Horace.
Est quodam prodire tenus, si non datur ultra.
--Horace.
With all my love of enterprise and adventure, I cannot say that I should
have particularly chosen the project before me for my evening's
amusement, had I been left solely to my own will; but Glanville's
situation forbade me to think of self, and so far from shrinking at the
danger to which I was about to be exposed, I looked forward with the
utmost impatience to the hour of rejoining Jonson.
There was yet a long time upon my hands before five o'clock; and the
thought of Ellen left me in no doubt how it should be passed. I went to
Berkeley-square; Lady Glanville rose eagerly when I entered the drawing-
room.
"Have you seen Reginald?" said she, "or do you know where he has gone
to?"
I answered, carelessly, that he had left town for a few days, and, I
believed, merely upon a vague excursion, for the benefit of the country
air.
"You reassure us," said Lady Glanville; "we have been quite alarmed by
Seymour's manner. He appeared so confused when he told us Reginald left
town, that I really thought some accident had happened to him."
I sate myself by Ellen, who appeared wholly occupied in the formation of
a purse. While I was whispering into her ear words, which brought a
thousand blushes to her cheek, Lady Glanville interrupted me, by an
exclamation of "Have you seen the papers to-day, Mr. Pelham?" and on my
reply in the negative, she pointed to an article in the Morning Herald,
which she said had occupied their conjectures all the morning--it ran
thus:--
"The evening before last, a person of rank and celebrity, was privately
carried before the Magistrate at--. Since then, he has undergone an
examination, the nature of which, as well as the name of the individual,
is as yet kept a profound secret."
I believe that I have so firm a command over my countenance, that I
should not change tint nor muscle, to hear of the greatest calamity that
could happen to me. I did not therefore betray a single one of the
emotions this paragraph excited within me, but appeared, on the contrary,
as much at a loss as Lady Glanville, and wondered and guessed with her,
till she remembered my present situation in the family, and left me alone
with Ellen.
Why should the tete-a-tete of lovers be so uninteresting to the world--
when there is scarcely a being in it who has not loved. The expressions
of every other feeling comes home to us all--the expressions of love
weary and fatigue us. But the interview of that morning, was far from
resembling those which the maxims of love at that early period of its
existence would assert. I could not give myself up to happiness which
might so soon be disturbed, and though I veiled my anxiety and coldness
from Ellen, I felt it as a crime to indulge even the appearance of
transport, while Glanville lay alone, and in prison, with the charges of
murder yet uncontroverted, and the chances of its doom undiminshed.
The clock had struck four before I left Ellen's, and without returning to
my hotel, I threw myself into a hackney coach, and drove to Charlotte-
street. The worthy Job received me with his wonted dignity and ease; his
lodgings consisted of a first floor, furnished according to all the
notions of Bloomsbury elegance--viz. new, glaring Brussels carpeting;
convex mirrors, with massy gilt frames, and eagles at the summit;
rosewood chairs, with chintz cushions; bright grates, with a flower-pot,
cut out of yellow paper, in each; in short, all that especial neatness of
upholstering paraphernalia, which Vincent used not inaptly, to designate
by the title of "the tea-chest taste." Jonson seemed not a little proud
of his apartments--accordingly, I complimented him upon their elegance.
"Under the rose be it spoken," said he, "the landlady, who is a widow,
believes me to be an officer on half pay, and thinks I wish to marry her;
poor woman, my black locks and green coat have a witchery that surprises
even me: who would be a slovenly thief, when there are such advantages in
being a smart one?"
"Right, Mr. Jonson!" said I; "but shall I own to you that I am surprised
that a gentleman of your talents should stoop to the lower arts of the
profession. I always imagined that pickpocketing was a part of your
business left only to the plebeian purloiner; now I know, to my cost,
that you do not disdain that manual accomplishment."
"Your honour speaks like a judge," answered Job: "the fact is, that I
should despise what you rightly designate 'the lower arts of the
profession,' if I did not value myself upon giving them a charm, and
investing them with a dignity never bestowed upon them before. To give
you an idea of the superior dexterity with which I manage my slight of
hand, know, that four times I have been in that shop where you saw me
borrow the diamond ring, which you now remark upon my little finger; and
four times have I brought back some token of my visitations; nay, the
shopman is so far from suspecting me, that he has twice favoured me with
the piteous tale of the very losses I myself brought upon him; and I make
no doubt that I shall hear in a few days, the whole history of the
departed diamond, now in my keeping, coupled with your honour's
appearance and custom. Allow that it would be a pity to suffer pride to
stand in the way of the talents with which Providence has blest me; to
scorn the little delicacies of art, which I execute so well, would, in my
opinion, be as absurd as for an epic poet to disdain the composition of a
perfect epigram, or a consummate musician, the melody of a faultless
song."
"Bravo! Mr. Job," said I; "a truly great man, you see, can confer honour
upon trifles." More I might have said, but was stopt short by the
entrance of the landlady, who was a fine, fair, well dressed, comely
woman, of about thirty-nine years and eleven months; or, to speak less
precisely, between thirty and forty. She came to announce that dinner was
served below. We descended, and found a sumptuous repast of roast beef
and fish; this primary course was succeeded by that great dainty with
common people--a duck and green peas.
"Upon my word, Mr. Jonson," said I, "you fare like a prince; your weekly
expenditure must be pretty considerable for a single gentleman."
"I don't know," answered Jonson, with an air of lordly indifference--"I
have never paid my good hostess any coin but compliments, and, in all
probability, never shall."
Was there ever a better illustration of Moore's admonition--
'O, ladies, beware of a gay young knight,
After dinner, we remounted to the apartments Job emphatically called his
own; and he then proceeded to initiate me in those phrases of the noble
language of "Flash," which might best serve my necessities on the
approaching occasion. The slang part of my Cambridge education had made
me acquainted with some little elementary knowledge, which rendered
Jonson's precepts less strange and abstruse. In this lecture, "sweet and
holy," the hours passed away till it became time for me to dress. Mr.
Jonson then took me into the penetralia of his bed-room. I stumbled
against an enormous trunk. On hearing the involuntary anathema this
accident conjured up to my lips, Jonson said--"Ah, Sir!--do oblige me by
trying to move that box."
I did so, but could not stir it an inch.
"Your honour never saw a jewel box so heavy before, I think," said
Jonson, with a smile.
"A jewel box!" I repeated.
"Yes," returned Jonson--"a jewel box, for it is full of precious stones!
When I go away--not a little in my good landlady's books--I shall desire
her, very importantly, to take the greatest care of 'my box.' Egad! it
would be a treasure to MacAdam: he might pound its flinty contents into a
street."
With these words, Mr. Jonson unlocked a wardrobe in the room, and
produced a full suit of rusty black.
"There!" said he, with an air of satisfaction--"there! this will be your
first step to the pulpit."
I doffed my own attire, and with "some natural sighs," at the deformity
of my approaching metamorphosis, I slowly inducted myself in the clerical
garments: they were much too wide, and a little too short for me; but
Jonson turned me round, as if I were his eldest son, breeched for the
first time--and declared, with an emphatical oath, that the clothes
fitted me to a hair.
My host next opened a tin dressing box, of large dimensions, from which
he took sundry powders, lotions, and paints. Nothing but my extreme
friendship for Glanville could ever have supported me through the
operation I then underwent. My poor complexion, thought I, with tears in
my eyes, it is ruined for ever. To crown all--Jonson robbed me, by four
clips of his scissars, of the luxuriant locks which, from the pampered
indulgence so long accorded to them, might have rebelled against the new
dynasty, which Jonson now elected to the crown. This consisted of a
shaggy, but admirably made wig, of a sandy colour. When I was thus
completely attired from head to foot, Job displayed me to myself before a
full length looking glass.
Had I gazed at the reflection for ever, I should not have recognized
either my form or visage. I thought my soul had undergone a real
transmigration, and not carried to its new body a particle of the
original one. What appeared the most singular was, that I did not seem
even to myself at all a ridiculous or outre figure; so admirably had the
skill of Mr. Jonson been employed. I overwhelmed him with encomiums,
which he took au pied de la lettre. Never, indeed, was there a man so
vain of being a rogue.
"But," said I, "why this disguise? Your friends will, probably, be well
versed enough in the mysteries of metamorphosis, to see even through your
arts; and, as they have never beheld me before, it would very little
matter if I went in propria persona."
"True," answered Job, "but you don't reflect that without disguise you
may hereafter be recognized; our friends walk in Bond-street, as well as
your honour; and, in that case, you might be shot without a second, as
the saying is."
"You have convinced me," said I; "and now, before we start, let me say
one word further respecting our object. I tell you, fairly, that I think
Dawson's written deposition but a secondary point; and, for this reason,
should it not be supported by any circumstantial or local evidence,
hereafter to be ascertained, it may be quite insufficient fully to acquit
Glanville (in spite of all appearances), and criminate the real
murderers. If, therefore, it be possible to carry off Dawson, after
having secured his confession, we must. I think it right to insist more
particularly on this point, as you appeared to me rather averse to it
this morning."
"I say ditto to your honour," returned Job; "and you may be sure that I
shall do all in my power to effect your object, not only from that love
of virtue which is implanted in my mind, when no stronger inducement
leads me astray, but from the more worldly reminiscence, that the annuity
we have agreed upon is only to be given in case of success--not merely
for well meaning attempts. To say that I have no objection to the release
of Dawson, would be to deceive your honour; I own that I have; and the
objection is, first, my fear lest he should peach respecting other
affairs besides the murder of Sir John Tyrrell; and, secondly, my
scruples as to appearing to interfere with his escape. Both of these
chances expose me to great danger; however, one does not get three
hundred a year for washing one's hands, and I must balance the one by the
other."
"You are a sensible man, Mr. Job," said I; "and I am sure you will richly
earn, and long enjoy your annuity."
As I said this, the watchman beneath our window, called "past eleven,"
and Jonson, starting up, hastily changed his own gay gear for a more
simple dress, and throwing over all a Scotch plaid, gave me a similar
one, in which I closely wrapped myself. We descended the stairs softly,
and Jonson let us out into the street, by the "open sesame" of a key,
which he retained about his person.
