"O Absalom! O Absalom!O Absalom! my son,If thou hadst worn a periwigThou hadst not been undone."
In the window of the shop was set out an array of the most wonderfully curled wigs, perfect marvels of the perruquier's art; and, indeed, the size of the young dandies' heads was a study in extravagance quite as wonderful in its way as the towers upon the heads of the ladies.
When presently the group had moved away, and the apprentice in the fine vest had a moment's leisure, Tom came forward and asked if Master Cale were within.
The youth regarded him with some insolence of manner, but as he might be addressing a future customer from the country, he replied with a show of civility that Master Cale was in the room behind the shop, curling the perukes of some gentlemen, but that Tom could go inside and wait if he liked. This he accordingly did, and soon the apprentice was surrounded by another crowd, and was taking orders thick and fast for the Blenheim vest.
The talk bewildered Tom, who, however, needs must listen, and presently he was attracted towards the inner room, where half a dozen young men, with heads almost as bald as those of infants, were arguing and laughing about the curl and fashion and set of their wigs, which were all standing in a row upon the blocks, and being cleverly and carefully manipulated by the deft hands of a small and dapper man, in a neat but not inelegant suit of brown cloth, ornamented by rather large silver buttons, whom Tom saw at a glance must be Master Cale the perruquier, although all his customers called him "Curley."
Heads were turned upon Tom's entrance, but the gentlemen only vouchsafed him a haughty stare, whilst the perruquier bid him be seated till he had leisure to attend to him. He then adjusted upon each head its own wig, amid much jesting and gossiping that was all Greek to Tom; after which the gallants filed out with much noise and laughter, and the little man turned to his unknown customer.
"What can I do for you, young sir?" and his eyes instinctively sought the head of the rustic youth, which was crowned with his own fairly abundant locks of dark brown.
"I come to you, Master Cale, with a few words in writing from one calling himself Captain Jack, whom I met in Epping Forest, and who told me I should be fleeced and beggared in a week if I fell into the hands of the sharpers of London town; but that if I sought lodging and counsel from you, I might learn my lesson without being ruined thereby. Here is the note he sent to you."
The shrewd face of the little perruquier had taken an almost eager look as the name of Captain Jack passed Tom's lips. His eyes scanned the youth from head to foot, and when Tom took out and handed him the note which had been given him, he seized it and read it eagerly, after which he turned to his new client, and said:
"This billet, young sir, would be enough to secure you a welcome from me. Tell me of my good friend Captain Jack. Ah! if he could have but stuck to honest trade, he and I might have made our fortunes together ere now. Never was such a figure for showing off coat or vest or sash, or a head upon which a peruke sat with a daintier grace. But come, let us sit down together and quaff a cup of wine, and you shall tell me all your history."
Dusk was falling between the high walls of the houses, and business was over for the day. Cale led his guest into a room on the basement floor, where a simple but substantial refection had been laid out. He called out to his apprentice to get his supper in the kitchen; and when the door was shut upon the pair, he listened with interest whilst Tom gave a very fairly accurate history of his own life up till the present moment.
Then the little man shook his head with an air of wisdom.
"The best advice I could give you, my young friend, is that you should go home to your mother and your friends in Essex, and seek to learn no more of the wickedness of the world than you know already. But I suppose no words of mine would induce you to take that course."
"Certes no," answered Tom with a short laugh. "I am sick of the country. I have come forth to see the world, and see it I will, or know the reason why."
"Ah yes, so says every moth that flutters round the candle, till his wings be burnt away, and he left the shattered remnant of what he erstwhile was," responded Cale, with a wise shake of the head. "But no man ever yet was found wise enough to take experience at second hand. So if you are bent on seeing the world--which, let me tell you, is an evil thing at best--I will try, for the love I bear to Captain Jack, and indeed to all honest youths, to put you in the way of seeing it with as little hurt to yourself as may be. And so you are thinking of foreign travel?"
"I was, till I saw what London was like," answered Tom; "but, i' faith, I am in no haste to quit it till I have seen its sights and tasted of its pleasures. Methinks I might go far, and spend much good gold, and not find the half of the diversion which the streets of London afford."
"Oh, if it be diversion you seek--"
"It is," answered Tom frankly; "diversion, and the game of life as it is played elsewhere than in the lanes of Essex. I have seen enough in one afternoon to excite a thirst which can only be allayed by drinking from the same fountain. So no more talk of Essex, or even of lands beyond the seas. I will e'en get you to write a letter to my mother, telling her that I am safely arrived in London town; and knowing that, she must make herself easy, for I was never one who could easily wield a pen. I was always readier with the sword or the quarterstaff."
"There will be fine doings in London town, too," remarked Cale, rubbing his nose reflectively, "when the Duke lands, and is welcomed by all the town as the great victor of Blenheim. Yes, certainly, you should stay to witness that sight. Afterwards we can talk of what you had better do. They are always wanting fine-grown young fellows for the army. Perhaps when your store of guineas is gone, London will not hold you so fast."
"My store will last a long while," answered Tom, confidently slapping his inner pocket where the bag of gold rested. "I have five hundred golden guineas, the legacy of my father; and to that my mother added another hundred, to fit me out with all things needful for my travels, which things could not well be purchased in Essex. Now Captain Jack bid me at once hand over to you my money, which, he said, would melt in my pocket like snow, if it were not filched away by thieves and rogues. He bid me place one hundred guineas with you for my board and outfit, and trust that you would do honestly by me; and the rest was to be put into your keeping, to be doled out to me as I should have need. It seems a strange thing to be taking the counsel of a highway robber in such matters. But I like you, Master Cale; and I am just wise enough to know that my guineas would not long remain mine were I to walk the streets with them. So here I give them into your keeping; I trust you with my all."
"I will give you a receipt for the amount, my friend. Many men have made me their banker before now, and have not regretted it. You shall have a comfortable room above stairs, and you can either be served with your meals there, or take them with me, or at some coffee house, as best pleases you; and as for the outfit--why, it will be a pleasure to clothe a pretty fellow of your inches in fitting raiment. But be advised by me; seek not to be too fine. Quiet elegance will better befit your figure. I would have you avoid equally the foppery of the court beaux and the swaggering self-importance of those they call the bully beaux, with whom you are certain to make acquaintance ere long."
Tom was willing to listen to advice in these matters, and the little perruquier soon threw himself almost with enthusiasm into the subject of the young man's outfit. They spent above two hours looking over cloths and satins and scarfs, trying effects, and fitting on perukes. Tom had never before imagined how important and engrossing a matter dress could be, nor how many articles of attire were necessary to a man who wished to cut a good figure.
But at last he grew weary of the subject, and said he would fain take a stroll in the streets, and breathe the outer air again. He felt the stifling presence of encircling walls, and longed to get out into the starlit night.
"The streets are none too safe at night for peaceful citizens," remarked Master Cale, with a shake of the head. "But I have a peruke to take to a client who lives hard by Snowe Hill. If you needs must go, let us go together; and gird on yonder sword ere you start. For if men walk unarmed in the streets of a night, they are thought fair game for all the rogues and bullies who prowl from tavern to tavern seeking for diversion. They do not often attack an armed man; but a quiet citizen who has left his sword behind him seldom escapes without a sweating, if nothing worse befall him."
"And what is this sweating?" asked Tom, as the pair sallied forth into the darkness of the streets.
Here and there an oil lamp shed a sickly glow for a short distance; but, for the most part, the streets were very dim and dark. Lights gleamed in a good many upper windows still; but below--where the shutters were all up--darkness and silence reigned.
"Sweating," answered Cale, "is a favourite pastime with the bullies of London streets. A dozen or more with drawn swords surround a hapless and unarmed passer by. They will close upon him in a circle, the points of their swords towards him, and then one will prick him in the rear, causing him to turn quickly round, whereupon another will give him a dig in the same region, and again he will jump and face about; and so they will keep the poor fellow spinning round and round, like a cockchafer on a pin, until the sweat pours off him, and they themselves are weary of the sport. But, hist! I hear a band of them coming. Slip we into this archway, and let them pass by. I would not have my wig box snatched away; and there is no limit to the audacity of those bully beaux when they have drunk enough to give them Dutch courage. Discretion is sometimes better than valour."
So saying, he pulled Tom into a dark recess, and in a few minutes more there swaggered past about six or eight young roisterers--singing, swearing, joking, threatening--more or less intoxicated every one of them, and boasting themselves loudly of the valiant deeds they could and would do.
They did not see the two figures in the archway. Indeed, the greatest safety of the belated citizen was that these bullies were generally too drunk to be very observant, and that a person in hiding could generally escape notice. After they had passed by, Cale continued his way quietly enough, following the noisy party at a safe distance, as they too seemed bound towards Snowe Hill.
They were approaching the top of the hill when a sudden sound of shrieking met their ears, mixed with the loud laughter and half-drunken shouts of the roisterers. Tom caught his companion's arm and pulled him along.
"That is a woman's voice!" he cried quickly. "She is crying for help. Come!"
"Beshrew me if I ever again walk abroad with a peruke at night!" grumbled Cale, as he let himself be hurried along by the eager Tom. "I am not a watchman. Why should I risk my goods for every silly wench who should know better than to be abroad of a night alone? Come, come, my young friend, my legs are not as long as yours; I shall have no wind for fighting if you drag me along at this pace!"
It was the urgency of the cries that spurred Tom to the top of his speed. The laughter was loud and ceaseless, but the shrieks were becoming faint and stifled. Tom's blood was boiling. He pictured to himself a foul murder done. A few seconds before they reached the spot a new sound greeted their ears--a sort of rattling, bounding noise--which provoked another peal of uncontrollable laughter.
Then a voice was heard shouting:
"The watch! the watch! or some fellows with swords!"
Immediately the whole band broke up and rushed helter-skelter in all directions. Not that the bullies feared the watch one whit. The watchmen were mostly poor, old, worn-out men, who could do little or nothing to impose order upon these young braggarts. Indeed, they were so often maltreated themselves, that they just as often as not kept carefully away when cries were raised for help. But, having had their fun, the roisterers were ready to disperse themselves; for some of the citizens would rise in a white heat of rage, and take law into their own hands, in which case it happened that the disturbers of the peace came off second best. One of them had seen Tom's tall figure and the sword in his hand as he ran beneath a lamp, and had fancied that some more determined rescue than that afforded by the watch was to be given. So the band dispersed shouting and hooting; and Tom and Cale found them scattered ere they came up to them.
"But where is the woman?" asked Tom, looking round; "they have not surely carried her off?"
"Oh no--only sent her rolling down the hill in a barrel!" panted Cale; "it is a favourite pastime with the youths of London town. One party will put a barrel ready in yon doorway on purpose, and if it be not removed, it will like enough be used ere morning. We had best go in search of the poor creature; for ofttimes they are sore put to it to get free from the cask--if they be stout in person at least."
And, indeed, as they neared the foot of the hill, they heard a groaning and stifled crying for help; and, sure enough, they found a buxom woman, the wife of a respectable citizen, tightly wedged into the cask, and much shaken and bruised by her rapid transit down the hill, although, when released with some difficulty, she was able to walk home, escorted by her rescuers, and bitterly inveighing against the wickedness of the world in general and London's young bullies in particular.
"The best thing, good dame, is not to be abroad at such an hour alone," advised Cale.
"Yes, truly; and yet it was but the matter of a few streets; and it seems hard a woman may not sit beside a sick neighbour for a while without being served so on her way back. My husband was to have come for me; but must have been detained. Pray heaven he has not fallen in with a band of Mohocks, and had the nose of him split open--to say nothing of worse!"
"Are men really served so bad as that?" asked Tom, as the two turned back from the citizen's house whither they had escorted their grateful protegee.
"Worse sometimes," answered Cale, with a shake of the head. "Those Mohocks should be wiped out without mercy by the arm of the law; for mercy they show none. They have read of the horrid cruelties practised by the Indians whose name they bear, and they seek to do the like to the hapless victims whom ill-fortune casts in their way. There be men whose eyes they have gouged out, and whose noses have been cut off, whose brains have been turned by the terror and agony they have been through. And yet these men go free; and law-abiding citizens are allowed to quake in their beds at the sound of their voices in the street, or the sight of their badges even in broad daylight. I call it a sin and a shame that such things can be. Well, well, well, let us hope that, when the great Duke comes home, he may be able to put a stop to these things. Even in warfare, men say, he is merciful, and will permit no extortion and no cruelty. We citizens of London will give him a right royal welcome; perchance we may be able to crave a boon of him in return. He--or, rather, his wife--is all-powerful with our good Queen Anne; and she would not wish a hair of a man's head hurt could she but have her way."
"By the Duke you mean the great Duke of Marlborough, who has done such great things in the war? But what is the war about? Can you tell me that, for I have never rightly understood?"
Cale was a great politician in his own eyes, and was well versed in the politics of the day. He strove hard to make Tom understand the intricacies of the Spanish succession, the danger of allowing Spain to be ruled by one of the Bourbons, and the fear of the all-powerful French king, who seemed like to rule Europe, if the allied powers could not make head against him. Tom did his best to understand, and got a rather clearer view of the situation than he had before; but what interested him most was the information that the Duke would come over to England shortly, and that a magnificent reception was to be given to him.
Whigs and Tories had alike grown proud of the victorious general, and the war had become popular from success, though the drain on the country was great. The Queen was personally liked, although she was but a small power in the kingdom; and for the time being Jacobite plots were in abeyance. So long as she lived, nobody was likely seriously to desire the return of the banished Stuarts; but, of course, there was the future to think for. Anne had no child to succeed her; and the thought of the Hanoverian succession was by no means universally approved. Still for the moment the Jacobite agitation was in abeyance, and all England rejoiced in the humiliation of so dangerous a foe as the great monarch of France.
Cale was full of stories of court gossip respecting the Queen and the Duchess of Marlborough, whose affection for one another was a byword throughout the realm. The Duke and Duchess were also most tenderly attached; and the private lives of Anne and her Prince George, and of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, presented a bright contrast to the general laxity of morals prevailing at the time. The rather austere rule of William and Mary had not really purged the court of vicious habits, though such had been steadily discouraged. Anne had not the force of character to impose her will upon her subjects; and extravagance, frivolity, and foppery flourished amazingly.
Tom felt his head in a perfect whirl as Cale chatted on of this thing and that, passing from politics to court life, and then to the doings of the wealthy classes, of which he had an intimate knowledge.
"By my faith, London must be a marvellous place to live in!" quoth Tom, when at last he had been shown to the chamber prepared for his reception. "I feel as though I had been a year away from Gablehurst. Prithee, bestir to get my clothes ready, good Master Cale; for I shall know no rest till I have been abroad myself, and have seen these gay doings with mine own eyes!"
A very fine fellow did Tom Tufton feel a few days later, when, arrayed in all his new finery, he surveyed himself from head to foot in Master Cale's long mirror, kept in the best light afforded by the back room, for the benefit of the fops and dandies who desired to see the effect of the finery purchased from the fashionable perruquier.
Cale had used discretion, and urged the same upon Tom, in the selection and fashion of his garments, and had sternly discountenanced anything like undue extravagance and foppery. Tom had insisted upon the Blenheim vest, with its rich flowering on the white satin ground, and its trimming of golden cord; but for the rest he had permitted Cale to select what he would, and was perfectly satisfied with the long coat of claret-coloured cloth, with a modest trimming of gold cord, and turned-back cuffs (showing the white lawn full shirt sleeve beneath), which set off his tall and well-made figure to advantage. The breeches were of the same cloth, but showed little, as silk stockings were drawn high up over them, almost meeting the vest or waistcoat, which was always long. He had shoes with high though not extravagant heels, and gilt buckles; a gold cord with tassels adorned his jaunty three-cornered hat; and his girdle and sword belt were of gold silk and cord.
But perhaps Tom was most proud of his periwig--an addition to his outfit which he had insisted upon rather against the advice of Cale, who had offered to curl and powder his own hair in an imitation of the prevailing mode. But Tom would not be denied the fashionable peruke. He had spent the best part of each day seated behind a screen in Cale's inner shop, listening in a species of fascination and amaze to the talk of the young dandies who daily resorted thither. Cale told him that he would thus best learn something of the language and gossip of the day, and be better able to hold his own when he went abroad; and Tom already felt that he possessed command of a thousand new epithets and words, to say nothing of the meaningless oaths and blasphemies, which made a part of the stock in trade of every fashionable man's vocabulary.
And now he stood regarding himself with complaisant satisfaction, feeling that he could ruffle it with the best of them. He had heard too much talk of periwigs not to feel resolved to wear one himself. Unless he did so, he felt he should never take his place in the world of fashion. His natural hair had therefore been cut close to his head, the peruke was fitted on, and fell in bushy curls to his shoulders.
Tom could not forbear a smile as he turned his head this way and that to judge of the effect. He felt indeed a pretty fellow, prepared to take his share in the drama of life going on about him.
"Harry Gay shall be your companion," said Cale, who had assisted at the toilet with the interest of a connoisseur, and who did not attempt to disguise his satisfaction at the result. "Harry is as gay as his name, but he is a well-meaning youth, and will neither rob you himself, nor suffer others to do so without warning you. He knows London well, and the life has hurt him less than it hurts most. He is brave without being a bully; he can play, and knows when to stop. He is afraid of no man, and so he is left alone. He has a good heart, and is to be trusted; and here he comes in good time to take you under his care."
The young man who now lounged in with a smiling face and a nod of recognition to Cale, was not unknown to Tom. He had seen him several times, and had taken a liking for him, which the other reciprocated. Harry Gay was the son of a leading merchant citizen, a man of some importance and mark, who was able to give his son every advantage that money could purchase, and the means to enter almost any circle short of that of the court itself.
But he had also transmitted to his son a certain hard-headed shrewdness, which stood him in good stead in the gay life he was now leading. Harry had the sense not to try to push himself amongst the high-born dames and gallants, where he would be regarded as an interloper, and only admitted to be fleeced of his gold; but contented himself with a more modest sphere, where he was a man of some little mark, and could lead as well as follow, if he had the mind.
Entering the back shop, Harry cast an approving glance at Tom, and nodded his head towards Cale, at the same time taking a pinch of snuff from his box, and handing it to the perruquier.
"Does you credit, Curley, does you great credit. A chaste and simple costume, but elegant withal--uncommon elegant, i' faith. Shouldn't mind a suit of the same myself, if I had our young friend's inches.
"Well, friend Tom, and how do you feel? Learned to take snuff yet? No! Ah, well, 'twill come by degrees.
"Put some more scent upon his person, Curley; he must smell like a perfumer's shop; and so--give him his gold-tasselled cane, and the gloves with the golden fringe. A muff? No! Well, perchance those great fists would look something strange in one, and the day is fine and mild.
"So, if you are ready, friend Tom, we will sally forth. To the coffee house first, and afterwards, an it please you, to the play.
"Farewell, Curley; I will bring you back your nursling safe and sound. He shall not be rooked or robbed today. But how long I shall be able to hold the cub in leading strings remains yet to be proved!"
Tom was in far too good spirits to take umbrage at this name. He felt anything but a cub as he walked down the street beside his scented and curled and daintily-arrayed companion, unconsciously striving to copy his jaunty step, and the little airs and graces of his manner.
"We will to the Folly," said Harry, as they stepped out into Holborn and turned their faces westward. "You have not yet seen the river, and the Folly is a floating structure moored in the water on the farther shore opposite to Somerset House, of which you may have heard. It is not the most fashionable resort; but, for my part, I like it well. There is always good company to be had there, and we are not interrupted every moment by the incursions of drunken roisterers, who spend their day in reeling from tavern to tavern, or coffee house to coffee house, in search of some new story to tell, or some fresh encounter to provoke."
Tom listened eagerly to all his friend told him as they went their way towards the river. So far he had not cared to show himself in the streets till after dusk, as he had become foolishly ashamed of his rustic garb. He was immensely interested in all that he beheld, and in the stories his companion told him about the places they passed, the persons they met, and the occupants of the coaches which were now rolling to and fro through the streets, taking ladies and their fine gentlemen friends either to the park, or some fashionable rendezvous.
Great indeed was his interest and amazement as they reached the steps beside the river, and Harry signalled to a waterman to bring up a wherry alongside to take them to the Folly. He had never imagined anything so wide and grand as this great flowing river, lined with its stately buildings, and bearing on its bosom more vessels than he imagined that the world held! Had it not been for his fear of betraying undue ignorance, he would have broken into a torrent of questions; as it was, he sat in wide-eyed silence, gazing about him like a savage suddenly transported into the world of civilization--not a little to the amusement of his cicerone.
The Folly was a floating structure not unlike a large houseboat of the present day. Its guests could walk to and fro upon the roof, or find warmth and entertainment within its walls, as did Harry and his friend; for although the sun shone, the wind blew cold upon the water, and it was pleasanter within the warmed interior, where already a sprinkling of guests had assembled.
The place was divided into two rooms for the public accommodation. The first of these was a bar and gaming room. A buxom and rosy-cheeked damsel was presiding at the bar, and several young dandies leaned their elbows upon it, and strove to engage her in conversation. Some others were already seated at a table, and were throwing the dice, laughing and swearing ceaselessly over their game. The second room was quieter at present, and upon the table there lay strewn about the various newspapers and pamphlets of the day. Two or three men were reading them, and discussing the news of the hour as they sipped their coffee or chocolate.
Harry led the way into this place, ordered coffee for himself and his friend, and, whilst nodding familiarly to the occupants of the room, possessed himself of a few papers, and pushed some of them across to Tom.
"A new pamphlet by Jonathan Swift, I see," he remarked carelessly, with a wink at his pupil. "You know hisTale of a Tub, Tom? Monstrous clever thing that! It tickles one to death reading it. So do his pamphlets--sharpest things out. Some talk of Defoe as his rival; but, for my part, I never read anything that rivals Swift's writings! Pity he has such a sharp edge to his temper. They say he will never get promotion."
Tom took up the pamphlet, and tried to look as though he were reading it with appreciation; but he had never been much of a student, and the comings and goings of a constant stream of visitors engrossed him far more than the printed words, the meaning of which he understood no whit.
It was much more interesting to him to listen to what the frequenters of the coffee house were saying amongst themselves; and greatly did he admire the ease and readiness with which Harry took his share in the conversation.
"Has my Lord Godolphin found a worthy pen to sing the praise of the victor of Blenheim yet?" he asked of a man who appeared to be a referee on matters literary. "The last I heard was that he was scouring London, tearing his periwig in pieces in despair that the race of poets was extinct, and he could only find the most wretched doggerel mongers, whose productions were too vile to be tolerated. Has the noble lord found a better rhymster? Or will the victory of the great Duke have to go unsung by the Muse?"
"What! have you not heard the end of that matter? Why, my Lord Halifax declared that he knew the man worthy of the occasion; but he would not reveal the name unless it was promised that he should be excellently well treated. And this man is none other than Joseph Addison, a fellow of the University of Oxford, and a man well thought of and pensioned, too, by the late King William. But since the death of His Majesty, the poet has been living in poverty and obscurity in a humble lodging hard by the Haymarket. There it was that he received a visit one day from the two noble lords; and it hath since been whispered that a poem is a-preparing so fine in quality and so finished in style, that my Lord Godolphin is now fit to dance a hornpipe for joy, and has promised a bountiful reward to the genius whose brain has devised and whose hand has penned the lines. They say that the poem is to be called 'The Campaign,' and that it is one of the finest the world has ever seen."
Whilst this sort of talk was going on in one corner, there were counter-conversations, more interesting to Tom, being carried on in other parts of the room. One band of bully beaux, somewhat the worse for drink already, were telling stories of scandal and duelling, to which Tom could not but listen with ill-concealed interest. Others were discussing the last new play, or the last new toast. A few fine dandies sat combing their periwigs as they talked of the latest fashions, taking snuff freely, and sprinkling themselves with perfume from a small pocket flask, if they were ever too nearly approached by some commoner person.
As time passed by the quieter men, who had come early to read and talk politics and literature, withdrew themselves and took their departure. Harry Gay was claimed by a party of dashing-looking young rakes, who insisted that he should come and play a game of tic-tac with them in the outer room; and as Tom made no move to accompany him, he left him in his seat in the corner to look on and learn all he could.
Tom, indeed, was quite fascinated by the scene around him, and had no desire to tear himself away. Presently one of the men from the group of bully beaux (as Tom had dubbed them, not by any means incorrectly) moved nearer to him, and took the chair vacated by Harry; and gradually the group reformed, with Tom as one of its members. The others addressed him, asking his name and his history. Tom was reserved as to this last, but spoke in a frank and easy way which seemed to win upon his comrades. There were four of them, and whatever might be their real names, Tom found out that they were known amongst themselves, and by the world of the tavern, by the following cognomens: "Slippery Seal," "Bully Bullen," "Thirsty Thring," and "Dicing Dick."
Tom was not sure that he liked or approved these new comrades, but at least their conversation interested and excited him. They told of duels fought in the ring at Hyde Park, or at the back of Montague House; of the exploits of highwaymen, and the executions at Newgate, which were plainly favourite spectacles with them. They told of the doings of themselves and other marauders in the streets of London, and roared with laughter over their exploits. Tom, ashamed of his real disgust, strove to laugh too, for he dreaded above everything to be thought a man lacking in spirit; but perhaps his face betrayed more than he meant, for his comrades began to gibe him in a fashion which made his hot blood rise; and he might have got into trouble before Harry could come to the rescue, had it not been that a sudden hush fell upon the room, whilst the word went round, spoken in every intonation of curiosity, respect, and admiration:
"'Tis Lord Claud himself! Hither he comes! Certes, but he is a fine figure of a man! So he has not grown too fine for his old haunts, though men did say that he was the pet and the favourite of all the court ladies!"
At that name, heard once before from the lips of Captain Jack, Tom looked round in great curiosity and eagerness. Immediately he was gratified by the sight of the entrance into the inner room of the person who was the cause of all this subdued commotion.
The newcomer was a very handsome man, of slender and graceful proportions, tall and elegant, and dressed in the extreme of fashion, yet with a taste that robbed foppery itself of any appearance of absurdity in his case. He looked quite young at the first glance; but a keen and practised eye could detect lines in that gay and handsome face which only time could trace. Probably he was past thirty by some years, yet many men of five and twenty looked older. The only thing in which he differed materially from his brother dandies was that he wore his own hair in lieu of the wig; but so abundant and beautiful was it, lying upon his shoulders in large curls of tawny golden hue, and clustering with a grace about his temples that no wig ever yet attained, that not the most ardent upholder of the peruke could wish him to change the fashion of his coiffure, which, in fact, gave to his outer man a touch of distinction which was well borne out by the elegance of his deportment and costume.
Tom stared his fill at the newcomer, who was attended by several of thehabituesof the coffee house, and received their welcome with a languid grace and indifferent goodwill. He was speedily accommodated with the best seat in the room. Conversation was hushed to listen to his words; the most fragrant cup of coffee was brought to him by the beauty of the bar herself, and his orders were dispatched with a celerity which was lacking to any other customer.
Small wonder was it that Tom, gazing and marvelling, asked in a whisper of the man next him:
"Who is it?"
"Lord Claud, of course, you rustic cub," was the scornful reply, for politeness did not distinguish Tom's new friends. "Any fool about town could tell you that much."
"I know it is Lord Claud," answered Tom, somewhat nettled; "but who is Lord Claud? That is what I meant by my question."
Another laugh, not a whit less scornful, was the reply to this second query.
"He'll be a clever fellow who tells you that, young greengoose from the country!" was the answer, only that the words used were more offensive, and were followed by the usual garnishing of oaths and by blasphemous allusions to Melchisedec, from which Tom gathered that nothing was known to the world at large as to the parentage or descent of the man they called Lord Claud, and that this title had been bestowed upon him rather as a nickname than because it was his by right.
The babble of talk, hushed at the entrance of the newcomer, began to rise again when he took up one of the journals, and appeared disposed for reading rather than conversation. Tom, unable to take his eyes off the elegant figure, still continued to ask questions respecting him, but was more puzzled than enlightened by the nature of the replies.
"There had been other Clauds before him," one of the men remarked.
Another added that it was easy to be rich when the king was made to pay toll.
Slippery Seal wished, with a laugh and an oath, that he were half as slippery as the great Lord Claud; and Bully Bullen remarked that if he could but get such a reputation for duelling, he would play the bully to better purpose than he did now.
This band of four were getting noisy and quarrelsome. They had been drinking steadily ever since they came in, and their cups of coffee had been tinctured by something much stronger. They were getting up their energies for their nightly prowls about the city, and thought it no bad start to bait young Tom first. Of course he had betrayed his ignorance and rusticity in a hundred little ways. Although he began to understand a little of what passed around him in the interlarded speech of the day, he could not frame his tongue to any adequate imitation of it yet. He had learnt, alas, to swear in his old life; but there is a fashion even in oaths, and his were too rustic in form to pass muster here.
As the bully beaux got deeper in their cups, so did their baiting of young Tom increase in offensiveness and coarseness. The hot flush of anger kept rising in the young man's face, and there were moments when a fight was imminent, which was perhaps what the aggressors desired. Harry was still in the outer room, or he would have interposed, for it was not a nice thing to be the butt of a set of braggarts and bullies, and this fashion of drawing a young man into their clutches was by no means unusual.
Suddenly, as matters seemed to be getting ripe for some outbreak of fury on Tom's part, which might well lead to disastrous results, a sudden clear, resonant voice rose above the hubbub, and dominated all other tones by a peculiar property impossible to describe.
"Let that lad alone, you cowards!" spoke the voice, in tones of unmistakable authority. "Get out of this place, you swaggering bullies! Are we to have no peace even in this inner room, for your filibustering ways? Go and bluster out yonder, if bluster you must. Speak a single word of insolence to me--" and here the blue eyes seemed to flash fire--"and I will have every one of you ducked in the Thames three times ere you take a step from hence! Now, will you go quietly?"
It was strange to see the change which came over these young rakes the moment that the clear, cold tones of Lord Claud's voice fell upon their ears. They stopped, they cringed, they looked one at the other, and then back at him, as a whipped dog looks at the master who rates him. Thirsty Thring, who had drunk the most deeply, and who was in consequence most filled with Dutch courage, ventured once to look as though he were about to resist, or to dispute the mandate of Lord Claud; but no sooner had he provoked that flash of the eyes, than he too was cringing more humbly than his fellows.
To the great amazement of Tom, they took up their hats, and slunk from the room like so many whipped curs. He heard them the next minute chartering a wherry to take them to the shore once more.
Lord Claud had taken up his paper again, but meeting Tom's bashful glance of mingled gratitude and admiration, he remarked to him with a quiet smile:
"You are a stranger to London and its sons, lad; take this bit of advice from one who knows both well: Never let any man badger and insult you. Take no word from any; but return it with a blow or a sword thrust. Make your name feared--it is the surest road to success. Tavern and street brawls are taken little note of by the administrators of the law; but better a few weeks' discipline in Newgate, than to be the butt and victim of a set of vulgar street swaggerers and swashbucklers such as those worthies we have just seen depart."
Tom had risen and had slowly approached Lord Claud. Now that the hour for the play had all but come, the room was thinning of its guests. He felt more courage to speak to this strange being, who seemed so great a personage.
"I thank you, sir, for sending them away. I will seek to follow your good counsel in the future."
And then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "Sir, are there more than one Lord Claud in this great city of London?"
"Not that I am aware of," answered the other, with a lighting of the eyes. "Some would tell you that one was enough even for so vast a city and realm as this!"
"Because," continued Tom, "I was charged with a message for one Lord Claud, and I marvel that it can be your worshipful self, for he that sent it was a strange man to speak of himself as your master."
A laugh shone in the dark blue eyes of the other.
"In sooth I call no man my master," he answered lightly; "but tell me the name of him who sent this message, and I shall know if it be for me or not."
"He called himself Captain Jack," answered Tom, "and I met with him betwixt my home in Essex and this city. He was dwelling in the heart of the great Forest of Epping."
Upon Lord Claud's face there had come a look of vivid interest and pleasure; yet he laid a finger upon his lips, as though to caution Tom, who, indeed, had spoken in a tone too low to be heard by any one else.
"Any news of or from Captain Jack is right welcome in mine ears," he said; "but this is not the time or place in which to speak of such things. Come tomorrow morning early to my lodgings in the Mall--any man will direct you to them--and there we will speak at ease. Forget not--tomorrow morning by ten o' the clock, ere my levee has begun. I shall expect you. Farewell, good youth, and keep your distance with those gentlemen you have just left. They would like to spit you as a goose is spitted, but I would see you again ere that consummation be achieved!"
He nodded to Tom, and took up his paper again; and Tom, turning round, encountered the amazed glance of Harry, who had come in to find him, and discovered him in friendly converse with the greatest man of all the company.
"How now, Tom! But you have a mettlesome spirit after all, if you can scrape acquaintance with Lord Claud. I have been in his company many a time, but never a word has he vouchsafed to me. And are you invited to his lodgings? Surely my ears must have deceived me!"
"In sooth he asked me, but it is only to hear a message I chance to bear from an old friend of his. Harry, tell me who is this Lord Claud? Men seem to worship the ground he treads upon, and yet to fear him, too, more than a little."
It was after they had reached the streets again that Tom put this question, and Harry answered it by a knowing shake of the head.
"I should have the makings of a fortune in me," he answered, "if I could tell who Lord Claud was. There be many fine ladies, and curled darlings of fashion, who would give much to know that secret."
"But if he be a lord--"
"Ah, indeed--a wise 'if'! He is no more a lord than I am! That much I can tell you. But the name fits, and he wears it with a grace. There be ladies in high places, too, who would not be averse to share it with him, and be my Lady Claud, even though no other name might be hers."
"But he is very rich; and rich men--"
"Rich!--ay, verily; and so should I be rich, if every time my purse was empty I helped myself to Her Majesty's gold, as it traversed the road from place to place!"
Tom stopped short as though he had been shot.
"A highwayman!" he gasped.
Harry bestowed upon him a sage glance and a mocking laugh.
"That is your word, not mine, my friend. Breathe it not before his lordship! But there be many who swear that he is none other than a grandson of the famous Claud Duval of olden days, and that he rolls in the wealth he has filched from royalty itself."
"And yet he lives like a prince, and all the world pays him court!"
"Oh yes--it is the way of the world; a successful villain is as much an idol as a successful general. The tide may turn. All high positions have their dangers. Remember nothing has ever been proved against him; but men think and whisper, though not in his presence. Town talk may or may not be true; and the ladies like him none the less for the tales that circulate about him. But come now, no more questions, or we shall be late for the play!"
Cale shook his head; but Tom was resolute. He had fallen under the spell of the so-called Lord Claud's personality--like many another before him--and whatever the upshot of the matter might be, he was going to accept the invitation accorded him, and visit that personage in his lodgings.
"Have a care, lad, have a care," advised the little perruquier. "All is not gold that glitters; and many a fine lad has been led to his ruin ere now by following some headlong fancy of his own."
"I will be careful," answered Tom, with the careless confidence of inexperience. "Did I not come back last night with nothing spent save the price of the theatre and my coffee and supper? You said yourself I had done well. So give me now ten guineas, and I will be gone; for I was told to be early."
Tom had no difficulty, once he had reached the Mall, in finding Lord Claud's rooms; for everybody knew where they were situated, and looked with some respect upon Tom for inquiring. He was received at the door by a very fine lackey, and taken up a wide staircase, so richly carpeted that the footfall could not be heard upon it. Everywhere his eyes rested upon strange and costly products of foreign lands, such as he had never dreamed of heretofore. Later on he learned that Lord Claud had won this sumptuous suite of rooms from a rich young nobleman at the gaming table, and had stepped into its luxury and collected treasures with never an effort on his part. It was the fashion of the day to stake house and lands, wealth, and even honour, upon the cast of the dice or the fall of the cards; but that Tom did not yet know.
He followed the servant into a large and lofty bedchamber, the like of which he had never seen before. He could have spent an hour in examining all the rich and curious things it contained; but a voice hailed him from the bed, and there lay Lord Claud, in a nest of snowy pillows, his golden head and fair complexion giving him an almost girlish aspect, albeit the square set of the jaw and the peculiarly penetrating glance of the dark-blue eyes robbed the face of any charge of effeminacy.
He was clad in a sort of dressing jacket of silk and lace, fine enough for any lady; and the bed was draped in silk from the Indies, worked in a fashion that set Tom agape. A few volumes of poetry, half a dozen letters, scented and delicately twisted, and a silver salver bearing an empty cup stood beside him. His servant removed this latter, and at a sign from his master withdrew; and Tom was motioned to take the lounging chair which stood beside the bed, and from the recesses of which he could watch Lord Claud, as he did, with a sense of fascination.
"Early afoot, in sooth, my young spark from the country! Ah, it is a fine habit, that of early rising. I practised it once myself, so I speak with authority. But what would you in this Babylon? And, i' faith, what is there to do before the afternoon to tempt a man from his couch? I have scarce had four hours' sleep as it is. There was no getting away from my Lady Betty's reception last night. Egad, I believe that fair votary of the Graces ruins more young bloods than any sharper in the town! Have a care of your guineas, my young friend, if ever you find yourself sitting down to the card table with her!"
"That is not likely," answered Tom modestly. "I am but the son of a country squire. I have come to London to see somewhat of the life there; but I look not to consort with the fashionable ones of the earth."
"We shall see, we shall see. A golden key opens all doors--at least, nearly all. And you have not come empty-handed from home, I warrant. And that reminds me of your words of yesterday. You bring me a message from my quondam friend, Captain Jack. I would hear news of him; so tell me all the tale."
Tom told the tale simply enough, and Lord Claud listened with unaffected interest, nodding his head once or twice at hearing the terms of the message delivered for himself.
"Ah, good Captain Jack! So he is still in the free forest! Well, well, well, perhaps he has chosen the better part. There be times when I look back at the old free life of peril and adventure, and my soul sickens at the weary round I see day by day. Who knows but the time may come when I will break these gossamer bonds! Ah, I might do worse--I might do worse--ere my youth and courage are fooled and squandered away."
He seemed almost to have forgotten that he had a listener, and to be musing aloud; but, catching the wondering glance of Tom's eyes, he recollected himself with a smile, and stretching out a white yet muscular hand, he said, with an air of winning grace:
"My young friend, I have taken a liking to you. I like you because you bring to my jaded senses a whiff of the free air of field and forest, as well as a message from one to whom I owe much. I am sick to death of the inanities of the dandies and fops of the town. Shall we be friends and comrades, good Tom? I trow you might do worse than make your Mentor of me--little though I look the part of the preceptor of Telemachus!"
Tom could scarce believe his ears at this proposition; he blushed and stammered almost as though it were some fair lady wooing him to friendship. Lord Claud laughed at his embarrassment, and presently, taking up one of the notes beside him, threw it across to Tom, saying:
"Read that, my young friend; I have a reason just at this moment why I would fain have a trusty friend beside me. What! thou canst not make sense of the jargon! Well, it is jargon; in that thou art right, honest Tom. Men talk in a fashion which fools might gibe at. But 'tis the fashion, the fashion, and what would you? Be i' the fashion--or perish! That is the choice before us."
"But how can I serve you, my lord?" asked Tom eagerly.
"Hast ever taken part in a duel, good fellow?" asked Lord Claud, with a keen glance at the stalwart youth.
"I have fought many a battle in play and in earnest," answered Tom, "with my fists, with the sword, and with the quarterstaff. I have no knowledge of the ways of town fights, such as I heard talk of in the Folly yesterday; but--"
"But you have a stout arm, an honest heart, and a tongue that will not wag when it is bidden to be silent? Is that so, honest friend Tom?"
"My lord, I would not speak a word to living soul if you bid me be silent; and I would stand by you to the death!"
"'Tis a sudden liking you have taken for my unworthy self."
"Prove me, my lord, if it be not as sound as it be sudden."
Lord Claud stretched out his hand, and Tom's great fist met it.
"This liking on sight is a strange matter; yet I seldom mistake my man. Tom, I am going to trust you to act as my second in a little affair I have with another gentleman tomorrow morning, in a certain spot of which I have knowledge. Another man was to have acted for me--he has, indeed, made all the arrangements; but, as yon note informs me, he was mixed up in a brawl last evening at the gaming house, and lies abed with a broken arm. 'Tis not a matter I would have get wind, else there be a dozen men who would serve my turn. I had rather one silent, steady comrade than a score of chattering jays. So you shall be my friend, Tom, and see what duelling is like."
"You are not in danger of death, my lord, or grievous bodily hurt? Else I fear I should break the rules of the game and dash to your succour!"
"Tush, boy!" answered the other, with a gleam in his eyes, "I have yet to find my match with the rapier; I shall get off without a scratch, you will see. Whether or not I kill my man will depend upon his behaviour. I love not slaughter for its own sake, but there be those whose jaunty insolence rouses the devil within me; and then I strike and spare not."
"And for what cause do men fight duels?" asked Tom.
"The question is a wide one, and smacks of innocence on your part, Tom. Generally a woman is the cause; but there be other matters too--wounded self-esteem or vanity, revenge, envy, evil passions of all sorts. But, egad, in these days it takes little to provoke the combat! Why, it is but a few months ago that two young sparks met in mortal conflict because, forsooth, one of them had declared that Venus was the goddess of love and beauty, whilst the other affirmed that it was Aphrodite!" and Lord Claud leaned back upon his pillows and laughed aloud; laughing still more when he found that he had to explain to Tom the nature of the confusion which had prompted the duel.
Time was fast flying as the two oddly-assorted comrades talked, and soon the valet appeared at the door with the perruquier in his wake, informing his master that several gentlemen waited below, and that all was in readiness for the morning toilet.
"Heigh-ho!" sighed the young exquisite. "Why can we not rise from our couches like the beast of the field, give ourselves a shake, and be ready for the day's work? These levees are the bane of my life. But fashion, fashion, fashion! She is the goddess of the hour. Tom, sit over yonder, and watch the follies of thy kind. Keep a quiet tongue, and I'll see you are not baited.
"And now, let in the popinjays and chattering monkeys; for the sooner we begin, the sooner comes the end!"
The next two hours presented a marvellous spectacle to Tom. There were perhaps some eight to twelve young sparks about town coming and going during that time, some remaining the whole toilet through, others roving off to other similar scenes. Whilst the perruquier plied his skilful hands in the curling, powdering, and arranging of Lord Claud's abundant golden hair, which some days was powdered and some days left as nature had ordered, they sat beside him in a row upon the bed and chattered of all the latest bits of scandal, the wittiest retorts of this or that sprightly dame, theon ditof the town, the quarrels of the gaming houses, and the doings of the court.
When Lord Claud left his bed and began arraying himself in the soft and costly array provided by his valet, his friends amused themselves by joining with him in the perfuming of his person; borrowing his essences to sprinkle upon their own fine clothes, washing their hands in milk and perfume to make them white and delicate; and calling to his valet to re-tie and arrange their lace-edged cravats in imitation of the style affected by Lord Claud.
Some of them removed their wigs, and asked the perruquier to give them an extra powdering; others got at the cosmetic boxes upon the toilet table, and gave a touch of carmine to cheeks which the night's revel had left wan. Some gave infinite pains to the arrangement of a patch to resemble a dimple; and all desired to dip their handkerchiefs in the silver bowl of rare scent which was offered almost the last thing to the master of all these luxuries.
Tom sat in his corner and looked on in amaze. He had felt himself a very pretty dandy whilst being arrayed in his new clothes in Cale's shop, but he felt like a raven amongst peacocks in this company; and it would have taken nothing short of the testimony of his own eyes to convince him that these were men and not women engaged in all this pranking and personal adornment.
Many curious glances had been thrown in his direction at the first; and a few of the guests sauntered up from time to time, and entered into conversation with him. Tom observed, with some satisfaction, that there was respect, if not admiration, in their manner, and he wondered what had caused this; for yesterday he had received mockery and taunts as his portion from men of much less distinction than Lord Claud's friends.
He had not heard the words Lord Claud had spoken to his guests on their arrival--or, rather, he had not understood them, since they were spoken in the French tongue.
"A friend of mine--a fine young fellow--a son of the forest--best let alone, gentlemen, by those who value a sound skin," Lord Claud had said, with a careless laugh.
His friends drew their own conclusions, and looked at Tom with respect. Lord Claud knew exactly what they were thinking, and laughed in his sleeve.
The valet was now perfuming the gloves, and giving just the jaunty cock to his master's hat which best suited its shape.
"Now, gentlemen, I will bid you farewell for the present," said Lord Claud. "I and my friend have business of our own. We may meet again at the play ere long. Off with you each to his own favourite tavern. For my part, I have other fish to fry today."
With that he swept them a fine bow, and the room cleared as if by magic. It was one of this man's arts that he could rid himself of the buzzing crowd by one look or gesture when he had the mind. Valet and perruquier followed the retreating guests, and Lord Claud drew a breath of relief.
"There, honest Tom; we are well rid of the chattering magpies--screaming peacocks were the better word, or painted popinjays. Now to business; for I must keep a steady head and quiet hours today. Are you anything of a swordsman, my friend?"
"I was accounted a good enough fighter in my own village," answered Tom; "but everything here is so different. My methods may be useless against the skill of men trained in a different school."
"We will put that to the test, and that quickly," said Lord Claud; and forthwith he led his companion out of the house and through several unfamiliar streets, till he reached a building rather larger than its surrounding neighbours, into which he walked with the air of one well used to the place.
First they passed through a large hall, the floor of which was thickly sprinkled with sawdust; but, without pausing, Lord Claud mounted a staircase in the corner, and led Tom into a large upper room, the walls of which were adorned by rapiers with buttons at the end, where a man was sitting polishing the foils and humming a tune to himself. He rose instantly upon seeing Lord Claud, and made a deep bow.
"I have come to try a bout at sword play with a friend of mine," explained the latter, stripping off his coat, and signing to Tom to do the same. "Give us two well-matched weapons; for we have none too much time to spare measuring and comparing."
Tom's blood quickened at the feel of the rapier in his hand. He had always loved these encounters with the sword, whether in play or earnest. He had not lacked training of a certain rude sort, and his wrist was strong and supple, his eye wary and keen; moreover, he had length of reach and strength of muscle. After the first bout Lord Claud gave him an approving nod, and, looking at the man who stood by, remarked:
"There is the making of a fine swordsman in the lad, is there not, when he has learnt more finesse and quickness?"
"The gentleman does well," answered the man, with a shrewd glance at Tom's tall and well-knit frame. "He may be worsted in a sham fight, but, methinks, in sober earnest he would be an ugly customer to meet."
In the next bout Lord Claud showed his antagonist some of the dexterous feats of rapid sword play, with the result that Tom was rather hard pressed; but for all that he did not lose his head, and soon began to master the tricks of attack and defence, the quick lunge and the quick recovery which perplexed him at first; and in the next bout he showed so much skill and address that his opponent and the onlooker alike applauded.
"Very good, Tom, very good," said Lord Claud. "You will make a notable swordsman one of these days. Now I shall leave you here for an hour with worthy Captain Raikes, and he will give you a lesson in fencing which you will not fail to profit by. After that I will come back for you, and take you elsewhere.
"Captain Raikes, I have a little affair on hand tomorrow morning. I would fain try a pass with you, to see that my hand has lost nothing of its cunning."
"Not much fear of that, my lord," answered the master of the place, as he took the rapier from Tom; and the next minute the youth from the country stood in silent admiration and amaze, whilst the two blades crossed and flashed, and twined and clashed, with a precision and masterly deftness which aroused his keen delight and envy. To become a proficient like that would be something worth living for; and his quick eyes studied the movements and methods of the two adversaries, till he felt he had begun to have some little notion of the tricks by which such results were attained.
When Lord Claud came back to fetch him, at the end of the stipulated hour, it was to find young Tom without coat, vest, or peruke, and bathed in perspiration; but so keenly interested in the new science, that it was all his comrade could do to drag him away.
"Egad, Tom, but you will make a pretty swordsman one of these days! Captain Raikes says he has never had a more promising pupil. You have winded him as well as yourself. But all that exertion must have given you an appetite. We will to Pontac's and refresh ourselves; and when you have cooled down, I will take you to see a man as great in his way as Captain Raikes with the foils. Oh yes, you can come again at your leisure for another lesson. But I have no fears for you, tomorrow, even now. Whatever may betide, you are no child with the sword."
The coffee house to which Lord Claud now conducted him was a much finer and more select place than the Folly, and Tom was much interested in the fine company there, all of whom welcomed Lord Claud heartily, and seemed to desire to draw him into talk.
Although dressed in the height of the fashion, and not without their fopperies and extravagances, the company here interested itself less with private scandal than with public affairs, and there was much talk of the war abroad, and of the return of the Duke of Marlborough, which it was now thought would take place before long.
"But he has first to go to Berlin, to cajole the King of Prussia to send help to Italy, to the Duke of Savoy," cried one of the company, who seemed best informed on military matters. "It will take a good one to wring eight thousand soldiers out of His Majesty of Prussia, but if any man can do it, it will be Johnny Churchill! I remember him even when we were boys together. He had a tongue that would flatter the nose off your face, if you did but listen to him! A voice of silver, and a hand of iron--those are the gifts which have made the fortunes of my Lord of Marlborough."
"Ay, an iron hand for keeping money when once the fingers have closed upon it!" laughed one.
"And a wife who rules the Queen, and is bent upon making her husband the greatest man in the kingdom--though she will always keep the upper hand of her lord, you will see. Marlborough, whom no combination of military prowess can daunt, trembles and turns pale before the frown of his wife!"
"Yet it is not fear but love which makes him tremble," said another. "Although their children are grown to adolescence, he loves her yet as dotingly as ever youthful swain loves the Phyllis of his boyhood's amours!"
"That is nothing to sneer at," remarked Lord Claud, speaking for the first time. "Rather should we thank Heaven, in these days of profligacy and vice, that we have a Queen upon the throne who loves her husband faithfully and well, and a general, victorious in arms, who would gladly lay down his victor's laurels for the joy of living in peaceful obscurity at the side of his wife!"
Nobody laughed at Lord Claud's speech, though it would have provoked mirth if another had given utterance to the sentiment. The talk went on, however, in the same vein, and Tom listened in silence, trying to digest as much as he could of the news of the day.
Lord Claud did not remain long; and when they were in the street together, Tom asked him of the great Duke, and what had been said of him. Was he really treacherous and false, loving money above all else, and careless of the good of the realm, so long as he built up his own fortunes securely?
"The Duke's career is not without its black spots," answered Lord Claud. "It is known by all that he deserted the late King James the Second; but there were reasons solid and sound for that. The darkest passage in his life is his intrigues against His Majesty King William, for which he was disgraced for some time. But for all that his genius is marvellous, and I am very sure he is loyal to the core to good Queen Anne; albeit a man who will not openly ally himself with either Whig or Tory faction must expect to make enemies in many quarters."
"And does he indeed love money so well?"
"Second to his wife, or men do him great injustice. But though they laugh and sneer at him, I misdoubt me if he loves wealth better than his traducers; only he keeps a firmer grip upon it, having indeed no taste for vulgar dissipation. Why, even as a youth he was mighty prudent."
Here Lord Claud began to laugh, as though tickled by some memory; and on being questioned further, he told Tom the tale.
"You must know that John Churchill was a marvellous pretty fellow, with just the same languid grace of bearing that he has kept all his life; and of which you may judge the effect yourself, good Tom, ere many weeks be passed. He was a youth about the court of Charles the Second, and the Duchess of Cleveland took notice of the handsome, witty lad, and sometimes had him in her rooms to amuse her. Once they so chanced to be there together, when the steps of the King were heard approaching; and as His Majesty was like to think evil of a matter where no evil was, the Duchess was sore put to it, and looked so affrighted, that young Churchill gallantly sprang from the window, at the risk of breaking his leg if not his neck. The Duchess sent him a present of five thousand pounds the next day; and what does the lad do? Most of his sort would have squandered it at play in a week; but Johnny Churchill was of a different kidney. He goes and purchases with it an annuity; so that come what may, he may never be left quite destitute in his old age!"
And Lord Claud again burst into a hearty laugh, in which Tom now joined.
They were now approaching a narrow street hard by the Haymarket, and his companion knocked at a lowly door, which was opened by a sombre-looking man in a shabby suit of clothes.
"Is your master within?" asked Lord Claud, who seemed known to all the world; and the next minute he was striding up the stairs, two steps at a time; Tom following, and marvelling much at the darkness of the humble abode, and at Lord Claud's purpose in coming.
A door on the second floor was thrown open, and Lord Claud stepped gaily in.
"Ha, Master Addison," he cried, "I have come to offer to you my tardy congratulations for that yet more tardy recognition of merit which has been your portion at last! And so the great ones of the land have been forced to come beseeching in person? Ha! ha! that is very good. And may my friend here--young Esquire Tufton, of Gablethorpe, in the county of Essex--have the privilege of hearing some of those wonderful lines which are to take the country by storm? Come, Master Addison, you know that I am a lover of good metre and fine sentiment. The words must needs be tingling in your ears, and lying hot upon your tongue. Let us hear the roll of them, and I warrant that all London town shall soon be in a ferment to hear them, too!"
The man of letters was attired in a neat but poor suit of clothes, and his surroundings were humble and even sordid; but his face was neither peevish nor careworn, but wore an expression of dignified contentment and scholarly repose. The walls of his lodging were lined with bookcases, upon which many a volume was stacked. Poor he had been for long, but he had not been in the straits that many men of letters were reduced to in those days. On his desk were strewn pages of manuscript verse which caught the eyes of the visitors at once.
"By my halidome! if that be not the poem itself!"
"The rough copy alone, the rough copy," said Addison, who was walking up and down the narrow room, his eyes aglow, his face a little flushed. "The fair one is in the hands of the printers. My Lord Godolphin came himself to hear it read but a few short days ago, and took it off with him then and there."
"Delighted with it, and vowing that you should be the first poet of the times, if report be true!" cried Lord Claud.
"He did express his satisfaction," answered the poet quietly. "And I doubt not I shall receive some mark of favour at no distant date. But not all the favour of Queen or courtier can give me the title to poet. That lies in a sphere which not the most powerful potentate can aspire to touch. The voice of posterity alone can make or mar that title!"
"But let us hear something of this great poem," cried Lord Claud. "As I say, it must be burning upon your tongue. Prithee do us the grace to recite us portions of it."
It was a request palatable to the eager soul of the poet, all on fire with the work which had occupied his thoughts and pen for so many long weeks. He still kept up his pacing to and fro; but as he walked he gave utterance to the well-conned passages of his work, throwing into the words a fire and a spirit which kindled the spark in Lord Claud's eyes, and even made young Tom's heart glow with admiration and wonder, albeit he had never been the votary of letters.
If high-flown, the language of the day kept it in countenance. Nothing simple would have found favour at that date. And no one called the sentiments forced, even though there seemed to be slight confusion sometimes between Marlborough and the Deity. The well-known lines upon the battle of Blenheim itself were given with a wonderful fire and force: