TRAVERSING the streets, without having in view any particular object, other than the observance of Real Life in London, such as might occur from fortuitous incident; our two perambulators skirted the Metropolis one fine morning, till finding themselves in the vicinity of Tothill-fields Bridewell, a place of confinement to which the Magistrates of Westminster provisionally commit those who are supposed to be guilty of crimes. Ingress was without much difficulty obtained, and the two friends proceeded to a survey of human nature in its most degraded state, where, amidst the consciousness of infamy and the miseries of privation, apathy seemed the predominant feeling with these outcasts of society, and reflection on the past, or anticipation of the future, was absorbed in the vacuum of insensibility. Reckless of his destiny, here the manacled felon wore, with his gyves, the semblance of the most perfect indifference; and the seriousness of useful retrospection was lost in the levity of frivolous amusement. Apart from the other prisoners was seated a recluse, whose appearance excited the attention of the two visitants; a deep cloud of dejection overshadowed his features, and he seemed studiously to keep aloof from the obstreperous revelry of his fellow-captives. There was in his manner a something inducing a feeling of commiseration which could not be extended to his callous companions in adversity. His decayed habiliment indicated, from its formation and texture, that he had seen better days, and his voluntary seclusion confirmed the idea that he had not been accustomed to his present humiliating intercourse. His intenseness of thought precluded the knowledge of approximation on his privacy, until our two friends stood before him; he immediately rose, made his obeisance, and was about to retire, when Mr. Dashall, with his characteristic benevolence, begged the favour of a few moments conversation.

“I am gratified,” he observed, “in perceiving one exception to the general torpitude of feeling which seems to pervade this place; and I trust that your case of distress is not of a nature to preclude the influence of hope in sustaining your mind against the pressure of despondency.”

“The cause of my confinement,” answered the prisoner, “is originally that of debt, although perverted into crime by an unprincipled, relentless creditor. Destined to the misery of losing a beloved wife and child, and subsequently assailed by the minor calamity of pecuniary embarrassment, I inevitably contracted a few weeks arrears of rent to the rigid occupant of the house wherein I held my humble apartment, when, returned one night to my cheerless domicil, my irascible landlord, in the plenitude of ignorance and malevolence, gave me in charge of a sapient guardian of the night, who, without any enquiry into the nature of my offence, conducted me to the watch-house, where I was presently confronted with my creditor, who accused me of the heinous crime of getting into his debt. The constable very properly refused to take cognizance of a charge so ridiculous; but unluckily observing, that had I been brought there on complaint of an assault, he would in that case have felt warranted in my detention, my persecutor seized on the idea with avidity, and made a declaration to that effect, although evidently no such thought had in the first instance occurred to him, well knowing the accusation to be grossly unfounded. This happened on a Saturday night, and I remained in duresse and without sustenance until the following Monday, when I was held before a Magistrate; the alleged assault was positively sworn to, and, maugre my statement of the suspicious, inconsistent conduct of my prosecutor, I was immured in the lock-up house for the remainder of the day, on the affidavit of perjury, and in the evening placed under the friendly care of the Governor of Tothill-fields Bridewell, to abide the issue at the next Westminster sessions.”

“This is a most extraordinary affair,” said the Squire; “and what do you conjecture may be the result?”

“The pertinacity of my respectable prosecutor,” said the Captive, “might probably induce him to procure the aid of some of his conscientious Israelitish brethren, whom 1 never saw, towards substantiating the aforesaid assault, by manfully swearing to the fact; but as I have no desire of exhibiting myself through the streets, linked to a chain of felons on our way to the Sessions House, I believe I shall contrive to pay the debt due to the perjured scoundrel, which will ensure my enlargement, and let the devil in due season take his own!”

“May we enquire,” said Dashall, “without the imputation of impertinent inquisitiveness, what has been the nature of your pursuits in life?”

“Multitudinous,” replied the other; “my life has been so replete with adventure and adversity in all its varieties, and in its future prospects so unpropitious of happiness, that existence has long ceased to be desirable; and had I not possessed a more than common portion of philosophic resignation, I must have yielded to despair; but,

“When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death,—the brave live on!”

“Thirty years ago I came to London, buoyant of youth and hope, to realize a competency, although I knew not by what means the grand object was to be attained; yet it occurred to me that I might be equally successful with others of my country, who, unaided by recommendation and ungifted with the means of speculation, had accumulated fortunes in this fruitful Metropolis, and of whom, fifteen years ago, one eminently fortunate adventurer from the north filled the civic chair with commensurate political zeal and ability.

“Some are born great; others achieve greatness, And some have greatness thrust upon them!”

“Well, Sir, what can be said of it? I was without the pale of fortune, although several of my school-mates, who had established themselves in London, acquired, by dint of perseverance, parsimony and servility, affluent circumstances; convinced, however, that I was not destined to acquire wealth and honour, and being unsolaced even with the necessaries of life, I abandoned in London all hope of success, and emigrated to Ireland, where I held for several years the situation of clerk to a respectable Justice of the Quorum. In this situation I lived well, and the perquisites of office, which were regularly productive on the return of every fair and market day, for taking examinations of the peace, and filling up warrants of apprehension against the perpetrators of broken heads and bloody noses, consoled me in my voluntary exile from Real Life in London. I was in all respects regarded as one of the family; had a horse at my command, visited in friendly intimacy the neighbouring gentry; and, above all, enjoyed the eccentricities of the lower Irish; most particularly so when before his honour, detailing, to his great annoyance, a story of an hour long about a tester (sixpence), and if he grew impatient, attributing it to some secret prejudice which he entertained against them.{1}

But this pleasant life was not decreed much longer to endure, the insurrection broke out, during which an incident occurred that had nearly terminated all my then cares in this life, past, present, and to come.

“In my capacity as clerk or secretary, I had written one morning for the worthy magistrate, two letters, both containing remittances, the one 150L. and the other 100L. in bank of Ireland bills. We were situated at the distance of fifteen miles from the nearest market town, and as the times were perilous and my employer unwilling to entrust property to the precarious conveyance of subordinate agency, he requested that I would take a morning ride, and with my own hands deliver these letters at the post-office. Accordingly I set out, and had arrived to within three miles of my destination, when my further progress was opposed by two men in green uniform, who, with supported arms and fixed bayonets, were pacing the road to and fro as sentinels, in a very steady and soldier-like manner. On the challenge of one of these fellows, with arms at port demanding the countersign, I answered that I had none to give, that I was travelling on lawful business to the next town, and required to know by what authority he stopt me on the King's highway, “By the powers,” he exclaimed, “this is my authority then,” and immediately brought his musket to the charge against the chest of my horse. I now learnt that the town had been taken possession of that morning by a division of the army of the people, for so the insurgents had styled themselves. “You may turn your nag homewards if you choose,” said the sentry; “but if you persist in going into the town, I must pass you, by the different out-posts, to the officer on duty.” The business in which I was engaged not admitting of delay, I preferred advancing, and was ushered, ultimately, to the notice of the captain of the guard, who very kindly informed me, that his general would certainly order me to be hanged as a spy, unless I could exhibit good proof of the contrary. With this comfortable assurance, I was forthwith introduced into the presence of the rebel general. He was a portly good-looking man, apparently about the age of forty, not more; wore a green uniform, with gold embroidery, and was engaged in signing dispatches, which his secretary successively sealed and superscribed; his staff were in attendance, and a provost-marshal in waiting to perform the office of summary execution on those to whom the general might attach suspicion. The insurgent leader now enquiring, with much austerity, my name, profession, from whence I came, the object of my coming, and lastly, whether or not I was previously aware of the town being in possession of the army of the people, I answered these interrogatories by propounding the question, who the gentleman was to whom I had the honour of addressing myself, and under what authority I was considered amenable to his inquisition. “Answer my enquiries, Sir,” he replied, “without the impertinency of idle circumlocution, otherwise I shall consider you as a spy, and my provost-marshal shall instantly perform on your person the duties of his office!” I now resorted to my letters; I had no other alternative between existence and annihilation. Explaining, therefore, who I was, and by whom employed, “These letters,” I added, “are each in my hand-writing, and both contain remittances; I came to this town for the sole purpose of putting them into the post-office, and I was not aware, until informed by your scouts, that the place was in the occupation of an enemy.” He deigned not a reply farther than pointing to one of the letters, and demanding to know the amount of the bill which it enveloped; I answered, “One hundred and fifty pounds.” He immediately broke the seal, examined the bill, and found that it was correct. “Now, Sir,” he continued, “sit down, and write from my dictation.” He dictated from the letter which he had opened, and when I had finished the copy, compared it next with the original characters, expressed his satisfaction at their identity, and returning the letters, licensed my departure, when and to where I list, observing, that I was fortunate in having had with me those testimonials of business, “Otherwise,” said he, “your appearance, under circumstances of suspicion, might have led to a fatal result.”—“You may be assured, gentlemen,” continued the narrator, “that I did not prolong my stay in the town beyond the shortest requisite period; two mounted dragoons, by order of their general, escorted me past the outposts, and I reached home in safety. These occurrences took place on a Saturday. The triumph of the insurgent troops was of short duration; they were attacked that same night by the King's forces, discomfited, and their daring chieftain taken prisoner. On the Monday following his head, stuck upon a pike, surmounted the market-house of Belfast. The scenes of anarchy and desperation in which that unfortunate country became now involved, rendered it no very desirable residence. I therefore procured a passport, bid adieu to the Emerald Isle, Erin ma vorneen slan leet go bragh! and once more returned to London, to experience a renewal of that misfortune by which I have, with little interval, been hitherto accompanied, during the whole period of my eventful life.”

The two strangers had listened to the narrative with mingled sensations of compassion and surprise, the one feeling excited by the peculiarity, the other by the pertinacity of his misfortunes, when their cogitations were interrupted by a dissonant clamour amongst the prisoners, who, it appeared, had united in enmity against an unlucky individual, whom they were dragging towards the discipline of the pump with all the eagerness of inflexible vengeance.

On enquiry into the origin of this uproar, it was ascertained that one of the prisoners under a charge of slight assault, had been visited by this fellow, who, affecting to commiserate his situation, proposed to arrange matters with his prosecutor for his immediate release, with other offers of gratuitous assistance. This pretended friend was recognised by one of the prisoners as a kidnapper.

A kidnapper, or crimp, is one of those fellows of abandoned principles, who enter into the pay of the East India Company in order to recruit their army, and when a guinea or two is advertised to be given to any person that brings a proper man of five feet eight or nine inches high, lie in wait to entrap men for the money. Some of these gentry assume the character of officers, others of Serjeants, drummers, and recruits, without the least shadow of commission among them. They have many ways of inveigling the artless and unthinking. One or two of these kidnappers, dressed as countrymen, go five or six miles out of town to meet the waggons and stages, and enquire if John Such-a-one is come up, which is answered in the negative, no such person being known; they then enter into discourse with the countrymen, and being perfectly complaisant, engage attention, and by the time they get to London, learn their occupations and business to town; whether they are in search of places, trades, or intend to return home again, which intelligence they in general profit by. Coming to the place of rendezvous, the kidnappers propose a pint of porter, which being agreed on, they enter the house where their companions are in waiting, enjoy themselves over flowing bowls, and exhilirating their spirits with loyal toasts and songs, begin their business by enquiring who is willing to serve His Majesty. The countryman, if inclined thereto, is generally deceived; if his desire is for the guards, or any other particular regiment, there are at hand mock Serjeants and privates, who will swear they belong to the corps, and the dupe is trepanned for the East Indies, hurried on board a ship, or kept in some dismal place of security till a sufficient number is collected, and an opportunity serves to send them away.

On the other hand, should the countryman be averse to enlisting, and talk of going away, these crimps will swear that he has received a shilling or more of the bounty-money, insisting that they saw him put the money into such and such a pocket; it is in vain that the countryman denies having received it, search is made, money found, and he is compelled to submit or pay the smart.

Others again, of these prowlers, frequent the places of confinement, and learning the particular case of some prisoner for small debt or slight assault, kindly otter to mediate with the prosecutor or creditor in effecting liberation. The pretended friend assumes the most disinterested feeling of sympathy, ingratiates himself into confidence, and generally terminates his machinations with success; accomplishes the prisoner's release, and sends him ultimately from temporary duresse to perpetual exile.

Such was the character of the fellow now placed in the ominous guidance of an exasperated multitude; they urged him forward to the place of punishment; but the tumultuary assemblage were disappointed in their anticipated vengeance, by the interposition of the turnkeys, and the pretended friend escaped the meditated castigation.

“Observe, again,” said the narrator, “that dashing young fellow, arrayed in the first style of dandyism.”

“My good fellow,” interrupted Bob, “he is not, I should think, one of the community; he has, apparently, the manners of the well bred and accomplished gentleman.” “And for that very reason, Sir, is the better qualified to carry on his profession with impunity; he whom you dignify with the appellation of a well bred and accomplished gentleman, is all that you have expressed of him, with the exception of one word, that is, substitute for gentleman, swindler, and the character is justly delineated. This fellow, of desperate enterprize, is one of the numerous practitioners of knavery, who set themselves up for men of property and integrity, the more easily to defraud the unwary and ignorant out of their substance and effects. This Spark, connecting himself with several others of similar pursuit, they took a genteel house in a respectable part of the town, and dividing themselves into classes of masters, clerks, out-riders, shopmen, porters, and servants, and thus making a show of opulence, they easily obtained credit, and laid in goods of every kind, which they sent into the country and sold, or bartered for other commodities; these commodities they brought up to London, and sold for ready money, generally taking in exchange double the quantity, and paying for the same with notes of their own drawing, indorsing, and fabricating, for the purpose of cheating the poor deluded farmer, shopkeeper, and tradesman in the interior of the country. With respect to tradesmen in town, the goods they took of them on trust they disposed of to Jews, and other receivers of stolen goods, at about thirty per cent under value, for ready money, nay, forty per cent rather than not have the cash; and as their stay in one place could not safely exceed five months, on account of their creditors calling in their debts, and their country notes becoming due, they used to make all possible dispatch to dispose of the various articles, and evacuate the premises before detection. This done, they played the same game elsewhere, when, Proteus like, they changed shapes, and disguised themselves so as not to be known, and carried on business in another house, but in a different name; the master became the rider, the rider the master, the clerks descended to footmen and porters, the footmen to porters and clerks, and so on throughout, until they had drained many parts of the town and country, to the ruin of several worthy and honest families. However, the co-partnership is now dissolved, the establishment is broke up, and the different individuals of this nefarious gang of depredators, of whom the well bred and accomplished gentleman, the subject of our remarks, is one of the principals, are consigned to different gaols for further examination and final commitment.”

Dashall expressed thanks for the interesting communication, and the Squire his astonishment that the credulity of man could warrant the hope of success to such a combination, however systematically arranged; and where so many were concerned (and the distribution of plunder perhaps by no means equalized,) that some dissatisfied individual did not renounce the dangerous connection in the hope of impunity and reward.

“We know not that there is any subordinate division of spoil,” said the other; “but if such there be, it may in this union of interests be the maxim as with other co-partnership concerns, that he, by whatsoever means, who contributes the most to the general stock, shall participate the most in the general benefit.

“Swindlers have other means of cheating and tricking the public, such as answering the advertisements of tradesmen who are in want of a sum to make good a payment, and offering, in consideration of a small premium, to get them the money required, on their note of hand, which they premise must be first given, and the money will be immediately advanced; the necessitated person agrees to the terms, and unthinkingly gives his note, which one of the Swindlers carries away, with a promise of a speedy return with the money wanted, but neither Swindler nor note is forthcoming until it becomes due, after having passed through many different hands, some of whom can ascertain giving a valuable consideration for the same, and fix the drawer to the payment, whose consolation for his credulity is, paying the money or going to prison.

“In case of a stagnation of trade, the Swindlers advertise themselves to borrow or lend upon good security. If they borrow, they have sham deeds, and make false conveyance of estates in nubibus, nobody knows where; if they lend, they artfully inveigle the borrower out of his security, which they take up money upon and convert to their own use, without the deluded person's knowledge; and by absconding, leave him to the mortification of descanting on their roguery, and his own want of foresight.”

The triumvirate were once more interrupted; a newcomer had arrived, and the prisoners hailed his initiation with the first stanza of an old song:—

The novitiate, neither surprised at his reception, nor adverse to the custom of the place, seemed quite at home, paid his garnish without hesitation, and entered at once into the vacuum of indifference with his new associates.

The attention of Dashall and Tallyho was attracted by the clank of fetters, as one of the prisoners squatted himself on the pavement of the yard. Leaning his back against the wall, he commenced darning an old stocking, chanting at same time an old song from the Beggar's Opera, as if predicting his own fate, yet with a manner indicating the most callous indifference—

The irreclaimable depravity of this man could not excite any urgent feeling of sympathy in his behalf, and our two friends took no further notice of him.

Their Intelligencer, who in the meanwhile had gone forth for information, now advancing,—“I thought,” said he, “that I had seen elsewhere this Johnny Newcome; he is a sharper, another precious addition to our respectable community."{1}

“Respectable, indeed,” exclaimed Tallyho, as he detected an urchin thief in the act of picking his pocket of his handkerchief. This hopeful imp, though young in years, was experienced in iniquity, had served an active apprenticeship to the art of picking pockets with impunity,

and at last became so great an adept in the profession, that at the early age of thirteen years he was unanimously elected captain of an organized band of juvenile depredators, some much younger, none older than himself, who for a considerable length of time set at defiance the vigilance of the police. These young fry carried on a long protracted successful war of extermination against ladies' reticules. One urchin, watching her approach, would lay himself across the path she must pass, and it frequently happened that she tumbled over him; a grab was then made at the reticule, the watch, and the shawl, with which the young villains generally got clear off. Others, in detachments of two or three, would hover about the door or window of a tradesman's shop, cut out a pane of glass, and abstract some valuable trinket; or watch the retirement of the shopkeeper into his back-room, when one of the most enterprizing would enter on hands and knees, crawl round the counter with the stillness of death, draw out the till with its contents, and bear off the spoil with impunity. One night, however, luckily for the public, the whole gang was made prisoners of, and dispersed to various gaols, each delinquent being ordered a severe flogging and solitary confinement. Availing himself of this indulgence, the Captain had watched the opportunity of approximating towards Tallyho, and was detected, as we said before, in the exercise of his former propensities; so difficult it is to eradicate vice from the human mind, even though in this instance so early implanted. Lenity in this case would have been equally misplaced as unjust, although the Squire humanely pressed his intercession; the incorrigible pilferer was therefore handed over to the custody of one of the turnkeys, until the Governor might award a punishment suitable to the heinousness of the offence.

The two friends had been here above an hour—it was an hour they thought not idly spent. And now leaving a small donation for distribution amongst such as appeared deserving objects, they returned home gratified by the additional knowledge acquired of Real Life in London.