Pelham, Volume 8.

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VOLUME VIII.

CHAPTER LXXX.

K. Henry. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.

Say. Ay, but I hope your Highness shall have his.
--2nd Part of Henry IV.

Punctual to his appointment, the next morning came Mr. Job Jonson. I had
been on the rack of expectation for the last three hours previous to his
arrival, and the warmth of my welcome must have removed any little
diffidence with which so shame-faced a gentleman might possibly have been
troubled.

At my request, he sat himself down, and seeing that my breakfast things
were on the table, remarked what a famous appetite the fresh air always
gave him. I took the hint, and pushed the rolls towards him. He
immediately fell to work, and for the next quarter of an hour, his mouth
was far too well occupied for the intrusive impertinence of words. At
last the things were removed, and Mr. Jonson began.

"I have thought well over the matter, your honour, and I believe we can
manage to trounce the rascals--for I agree with you, that there is not a
doubt that Thornton and Dawson are the real criminals; but the affair,
Sir, is one of the greatest difficulty and importance--nay, of the
greatest personal danger. My life may be the forfeit of my desire to
serve you--you will not, therefore, be surprised at my accepting your
liberal offer of three hundred a year, should I be successful; although I
do assure you, Sir, that it was my original intention to reject all
recompence, for I am naturally benevolent, and love doing a good action.
Indeed, Sir, if I were alone in the world, I should scorn any
remuneration, for virtue is its own reward; but a real moralist, your
honour, must not forget his duties on any consideration, and I have a
little family to whom my loss would be an irreparable injury; this, upon
my honour, is my only inducement for taking advantage of your
generosity;" and as the moralist ceased, he took out of his waistcoat
pocket a paper, which he handed to me with his usual bow of deference.

I glanced over it--it was a bond, apparently drawn up in all the legal
formalities, pledging myself, in case Job Jonson, before the expiration
of three days, gave that information which should lead to the detection
and punishment of the true murderers of Sir John Tyrrell, deceased, to
ensure to the said Job Jonson the yearly annuity of three hundred pounds.

"It is with much pleasure that I shall sign this paper," said I; "but
allow me (par parenthese) to observe, that since you only accept the
annuity for the sake of benefiting your little family, in case of your
death, this annuity, ceasing with your life, will leave your children as
pennyless as at present."

"Pardon me, your honour," rejoined Job, not a whit daunted at the truth
of my remark, "I can insure!"

"I forgot that," said I, signing, and restoring the paper; "and now to
business."

Jonson gravely and carefully looked over the interesting document I
returned to him, and carefully lapping it in three envelopes, inserted it
in a huge red pocket-book, which he thrust into an innermost pocket in
his waistcoat.

"Right, Sir," said he, slowly, "to business. Before I begin, you must,
however, promise me, upon your honour as a gentleman, the strictest
secrecy, as to my communications."

I readily agreed to this, so far as that secrecy did not impede my
present object; and Job being content with this condition, resumed.

"You must forgive me, if, in order to arrive at the point in question, I
set out from one which may seem to you a little distant."

I nodded my assent, and Job continued.

"I have known Dawson for some years; my acquaintance with him commenced
at Newmarket, for I have always had a slight tendency to the turf. He was
a wild, foolish fellow, easily led into any mischief, but ever the first
to sneak out of it; in short, when he became one of us, which his
extravagance soon compelled him to do, we considered him as a very
serviceable tool, but one, that while he was quite wicked enough to begin
a bad action, was much too weak to go through with it; accordingly he was
often employed, but never trusted. By the word us, which I see has
excited your curiosity, I merely mean a body corporate, established
furtively, and restricted solely to exploits on the turf. I think it
right to mention this, because I have the honour to belong to many other
societies to which Dawson could never have been admitted. Well, Sir, our
club was at last broken up, and Dawson was left to shift for himself. His
father was still alive, and the young hopeful having quarrelled with him,
was in the greatest distress. He came to me with a pitiful story, and a
more pitiful face; so I took compassion upon the poor devil, and procured
him, by dint of great interest, admission into a knot of good fellows,
whom I visited, by the way, last night. Here I took him under my especial
care; and as far as I could, with such a dull-headed dromedary, taught
him some of the most elegant arts of my profession. However, the
ungrateful dog soon stole back to his old courses, and robbed me of half
my share of a booty to which I had helped him myself. I hate treachery
and ingratitude, your honour; they are so terribly ungentlemanlike.

"I then lost sight of him, till between two and three months ago, when he
returned to town, and attended our meetings with Tom Thornton, who had
been chosen a member of the club some months before. Since we had met,
Dawson's father had died, and I thought his flash appearance in town
arose from his new inheritance. I was mistaken: old Dawson had tied up
the property so tightly, that the young one could not scrape enough to
pay his debts; accordingly, before he came to town, he gave up his life
interest in the property to his creditors. However that be, Master Dawson
seemed at the top of Fortune's wheel. He kept his horses, and sported the
set to champagne and venison; in short, there would have been no end to
his extravagance, had not Thornton sucked him like a leech.

"It was about that time, that I asked Dawson for a trifle to keep me from
jail; for I was ill in bed, and could not help myself. Will you believe,
Sir, that the rascal told me to go and be d--d, and Thornton said amen? I
did not forget the ingratitude of my protege, though when I recovered I
appeared entirely to do so. No sooner could I walk about, than I relieved
all my necessities. He is but a fool who starves, with all London before
him. In proportion as my finances increased, Dawson's visibly decayed.
With them, decreased also his spirits. He became pensive and downcast;
never joined any of our parties, and gradually grew quite a useless
member of the corporation. To add to his melancholy, he was one morning
present at the execution of an unfortunate associate of ours: this made a
deep impression upon him; from that moment, he became thoroughly moody
and despondent. He was frequently heard talking to himself, could not
endure to be left alone in the dark, and began rapidly to pine away.

"One night, when he and I were seated together, he asked me if I never
repented of my sins, and then added, with a groan, that I had never
committed the heinous crime he had. I pressed him to confess, but he
would not. However, I coupled that half avowal with his sudden riches and
the mysterious circumstances of Sir John Tyrrell's death, and dark
suspicions came into my mind. At that time, and indeed ever since Dawson
re-appeared, we were often in the habit of discussing the notorious
murder which then engrossed public attention; and as Dawson and Thornton
had been witnesses on the inquest, we frequently referred to them
respecting it. Dawson always turned pale, and avoided the subject;
Thornton, on the contrary, brazened it out with his usual impudence.
Dawson's aversion to the mention of the murder now came into my
remembrance with double weight to strengthen my suspicions; and, on
conversing with one or two of our comrades, I found that my doubts were
more than shared, and that Dawson had frequently, when unusually
oppressed with his hypochondria, hinted at his committal of some dreadful
crime, and at his unceasing remorse for it.

"By degrees, Dawson grew worse and worse--his health decayed, he started
at a shadow--drank deeply, and spoke, in his intoxication, words that
made the hairs of our green men stand on end.

"We must not suffer this," said Thornton, whose hardy effrontery enabled
him to lord it over the jolly boys, as if he were their dimber-damber;
"his ravings and humdurgeon will unman all our youngsters." And so, under
this pretence, Thornton had the unhappy man conveyed away to a secret
asylum, known only to the chiefs of the gang, and appropriated to the
reception of persons who, from the same weakness as Dawson, were likely
to endanger others, or themselves. There many a poor wretch has been
secretly immured, and never suffered to revisit the light of Heaven. The
moon's minions, as well as the monarch's, must have their state
prisoners, and their state victims.

"Well, Sir, I shall not detain you much longer. Last night, after your
obliging confidence, I repaired to the meeting; Thornton was there, and
very much out of humour. When our messmates dropped off, and we were
alone, at one corner of the room, I began talking to him carelessly about
his accusation of your friend, whom I have since learnt is Sir Reginald
Glanville--an old friend of mine too; aye, you may look, Sir, but I can
stake my life to having picked his pocket one night at the Opera.
Thornton was greatly surprised at my early intelligence of a fact,
hitherto kept so profound a secret; however, I explained it away by a
boast of my skill in acquiring information: and he then incautiously let
out, that he was exceedingly vexed with himself for the charge he had
made against the prisoner, and very uneasy at the urgent inquiries set on
foot for Dawson. More and more convinced of his guilt, I quitted the
meeting, and went to Dawson's retreat.

"For fear of his escape, Thornton had had him closely confined to one of
the most secret rooms in the house. His solitude and the darkness of the
place, combined with his remorse, had worked upon a mind, never too
strong, almost to insanity. He was writhing with the most acute and
morbid pangs of conscience that my experience, which has been pretty
ample, ever witnessed. The old hag, who is the Hecate (you see, Sir, I
have had a classical education) of the place, was very loth to admit me
to him, for Thornton had bullied her into a great fear of the
consequences of disobeying his instructions; but she did not dare to
resist my orders. Accordingly I had a long interview with the unfortunate
man; he firmly believes that Thornton intends to murder him; and says,
that if he could escape from his dungeon, he would surrender himself up
to the first magistrate he could find.

"I told him that an innocent man had been apprehended for the crime of
which I knew he and Thornton were guilty; and then taking upon myself the
office of a preacher, I exhorted him to atone, as far as possible, for
his past crime, by a full and faithful confession; that would deliver the
innocent, and punish the guilty. I held out to him the hope that this
confession might perhaps serve the purpose of king's evidence, and obtain
him a pardon for his crime; and I promised to use my utmost zeal and
diligence to promote his escape from his present den.

"He said, in answer, that he did not wish to live; that he suffered the
greatest tortures of mind; and that the only comfort earth held out to
him would be to ease his remorse by a full acknowledgment of his crime,
and to hope for future mercy by expiating his offence on the scaffold;
all this, and much more, to the same purpose, the hen-hearted fellow
told me with sighs and groans. I would fain have taken his confession on
the spot, and carried it away with me, but he refused to give it to me,
or to any one but a parson, whose services he implored me to procure him.
I told him, at first, that the thing was impossible; but, moved by his
distress and remorse, I promised, at last, to bring one tonight, who
should both administer spiritual comfort to him and receive his
deposition. My idea at the moment was to disguise myself in the dress of
the pater cove, [Note: A parson, or minister--but generally applied to a
priest of the lowest order.] and perform the double job--since then I
have thought of a better scheme.

"As my character, you see, your honour, is not so highly prized by the
magistrates as it ought to be, any confession made to me might not be of
the same value as if it were made to any one else--to a gentleman like
you, for instance; and, moreover, it will not do for me to appear in
evidence against any of the fraternity; and for two reasons: first,
because I have taken a solemn oath never to do so; and, secondly, because
I have a very fair chance of joining Sir John Tyrrell in kingdom come if
I do. My present plan, therefore, if it meets your concurrence, would be
to introduce your honour as the parson, and for you to receive the
confession, which, indeed, you might take down in writing. This plan, I
candidly confess, is not without great difficulty and some danger; for I
have not only to impose you upon Dawson as a priest, but also upon
Brimstone Bess as one of our jolly boys; for I need not tell you that any
real parson might knock a long time at her door before it could be opened
to him. You must, therefore, be as mum as a mole, unless she cants to
you, and your answers must then be such as I shall dictate, otherwise she
may detect you, and, should any of the true men be in the house, we
should both come off worse than we went in."

"My dear Mr. Job," replied I, "there appears to me to be a much easier
plan than all this; and that is, simply to tell the Bow-street officers
where Dawson may be found, and I think they would be able to carry him
away from the arms of Mrs. Brimstone Bess without any great difficulty or
danger."

Jonson smiled.

"I should not long enjoy my annuity, your honour, if I were to set the
runners upon our best hive. I should be stung to death before the week
was out. Even you, should you accompany me to-night, will never know
where the spot is situated, nor would you discover it again if you
searched all London, with the whole police at your back. Besides, Dawson
is not the only person in the house for whom the law is hunting--there
are a score others whom I have no desire to give up to the gallows--hid
among the odds and ends of the house, as snug as plums in a pudding. God
forbid that I should betray them, and for nothing too! No, your honour,
the only plan I can think of is the one I proposed; if you do not approve
of it, and it certainly is open to exception, I must devise some other:
but that may require delay."

"No, my good Job," replied I, "I am ready to attend you: but could we not
manage to release Dawson, as well as take his deposition?--his personal
evidence is worth all the written ones in the world."

"Very true," answered Job, "and if it be possible to give Bess the slip,
we will. However, let us not lose what we may get by grasping at what we
may not; let us have the confession first, and we'll try for the release
afterwards. I have another reason for this, Sir, which, if you knew as
much of penitent prigs as I do, you would easily understand. However, it
may be explained by the old proverb, of 'the devil was sick,' As long as
Dawson is stowed away in a dark hole, and fancies devils in every corner,
he may be very anxious to make confessions, which, in broad day-light,
might not seem to him so desirable. Darkness and solitude are strange
stimulants to the conscience, and we may as well not lose any advantage
they give us."

"You are an admirable reasoner," cried I, "and I am impatient to
accompany you--at what hour shall it be?"

"Not much before midnight," answered Jonson, "but your honour must go
back to school and learn lessons before then. Suppose Bess were to
address you thus: 'Well you parish bull prig, are you for lushing jackey,
or pattering in the hum box?' [Note: Well, you parson thief, are you for
drinking gin, or talking in the pulpit?] I'll be bound you would not know
how to answer."

"I am afraid you are right, Mr. Jonson," said I, in a tone of self-
humiliation.

"Never mind," replied the compassionate Job, "we are all born ignorant--
knowledge is not learnt in a day. A few of the most common and necessary
words in our St. Giles's Greek, I shall be able to teach you before
night; and I will, beforehand, prepare the old lady for seeing a young
hand in the profession. As I must disguise you before we go, and that
cannot well be done here, suppose you dine with me at my lodgings."

"I shall be too happy," said I, not a little surprised at the offer.

"I am in Charlotte-street, Bloomsbury, No.--. You must ask for me by the
name of Captain Douglas," said Job, with dignity, "and we'll dine at
five, in order to have time for your preliminary initiation."

"With all my heart," said I; and Mr. Job Jonson then rose, and reminding
me of my promise of secrecy, took his departure.

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."

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