At War with Society; or, Tales of the Outcasts

by Rodrigues Ottolengui

  The Half-Crowns.

  I have often thought we are a little mole-eyed in social questions. Howmuch were we to have paid the devil for our letting in mental food tothe people, for the introduction of machinery, for giving up hangingpoor wretches! and yet we have paid him nothing,--all movements comingto a poise. When I lay hold of a robber by the throat, we have a tussle,but it does not last long. Either he or I may be down; we don't murdereach other; the forces destroy themselves, and there's peace. Where isall the expected crop of forgeries and coinings that were to spring upunder the spread of the guano of education? The art of learning to writewas to be the learning to forge, and electro-plating (if I can spell it)was to turn off half-crowns by the thousand. Nothing of all this. Thepeople are better fed, the working men better employed, fewer murders,fewer forgeries, fewer coinings. I think we have rather taken from hismajesty below, and I suspect he is fretful. What a fury we would put himin were we to take the young from him, of whom, in a certain class, hehas had the charge since Adam coined that bad penny, Cain!

  So I thought, when I told the story of the pewter spoons. I thought Ihad not another case of coining in my books; but I find I was wrong. Notlong ago, in November 1858, I happened (I was always happening) to meet,at the foot of the stair leading to Ashley Buildings, in Nether Bow,near John Knox's Church, a clot of little boys and girls busy looking atsome wonderful things, with eyes as bright and round as a new-turned-outshilling. On bending my head over the little people, and directing myeyes down through the midst of them, I found that the objects of theirdelight were a number (turned out to be a dozen) of beautiful glitteringhalf-crowns and florins, all new from the mint. Was ever a nest ofRaggediers shone upon with a blaze of such glory! Did ever her Majesty'sface appear so beautiful to any of her loyal subjects!

  On inquiry, I found that the urchins, when playing in the stair ofAshley Buildings, had found the pieces secreted in the corners of twowindow-soles. They were placed outside, so that any person going up thestair could reach them without entering any of the flats. I examined theplaces of deposit under the direction of my leaders--six of the pieceswere on the window-sole of the first flat, and the other six on that ofthe highest. Then they had been cunningly placed in small-scoopedcrevices, close by the rybats. On coming down with my coins in my hand,and my troop around me, all chattering and vindicating their rights tothe waifs, I was a little taken aback by the appearance of two ladiescoming up the dark, dingy stair. At the first glance, and under theimpression of the rustle of their heavy silk skirts, I took them forphilanthropical grandees from the New Town on a visit of mercy to thehags of Ashley Land; and no wonder, for the very gayest of ourcrinolined nymphs, so far as regarded silk velvet and ribbons, were notqualified to tie the latchet of one of their boots. Nor was myimpression changed when, standing to a side to give space to the swirlof their wide skirts, as well as honour to their progress, I lookedrespectfully, if not with a little awe (not much in my way) into theirfaces,--delicate, pretty, genteel, nor with a single indication of theflaunting lightness sometimes, in my experience, accompanying, but notadorning very gay attire.

  On ascending two steps above me, one of them turned round, and, with aninquiring gaze, asked what was the matter, in a clear, bell-like voice,which was to me at the moment perhaps the more musical, because it camefrom such a delicate throat; but the speech was English, and we wantthat _spoken_ music in Scotland,--at least there's not much of it amongthe denizens of Ashley Land.

  "A little row among the boys," said I, just as a suddenly rising thoughtsuggested something,--I won't say what.

  "He's ta'en our half-croons, mem," cried a bantam, whose windpipe Icould have squeezed.

  Upon hearing which, my ladies turned somewhat abruptly, and proceededdown stairs. I could even fancy that the noise of their silks wasincreased by a flurry,--a movement altogether which I could not, evenwith the aid of my sudden thought, very well understand. On getting tothe foot of the stair, and quit of my brawlers, I observed my twodamsels walking majestically up the High Street, as if they had utterlyforgotten their visit of mercy, for which their purses, and probablytheir Bibles, had been put in preparation. I had intercepted grace,condescension, and mercy, even when about to light, like ministeringangels, on the hearts and homes of the miserable. Well, anothertime--mercy is long-suffering.

  Just as I thus found myself a little satirical perhaps, up comes the manRichardson, who lived in Ashley Buildings.

  "It's not often," said he, "that folks like me and my wife have lodgersin our small room like yon," pointing in the direction of my ladies.

  "Like whom?" said I.

  "Why, did you not see them coming out of our stair?"

  "Yes, I saw two ladies superbly dressed; who are they?"

  "Just my lodgers; your common lodging-house keepers can't touch that, Ithink."

  "Why, no," said I; "but you haven't told me who or what they are."

  "That's a hard question," replied he; "I can only say they are English,very polite, and pay their score."

  "Any more?" said I; for although I had no doubt of the man's honesty, Idid not wish to be forward with my half-crowns, as a "let up" in thefirst instance.

  "Why, we are not sure of them," said he. "They are the strangestcustomers we ever had. They keep their door shut, and every second daythere comes to them a man, as much a tailor and jeweller-made swell inhis way as they are in theirs. Then the door is still more sure to belocked, and the key-hole screened."

  "Did you ever hear his name?"

  "Oh, yes--Mr Harvey."

  "And theirs?"

  "Miss Matilda Jerome and Miss Elizabeth Jackson."

  "Is he English too?" inquired I.

  "Yes, of the highest tone, but very condescending. He asks MrsRichardson how she does, and she says, 'Quite well, I thank you, sir;'but this doesn't prevent her, you know, from sometimes trying a_chink_--the _key-hole_ is an impossibility."

  "And what has she seen?"

  "Not much yet. The little is strange. The great Mr Harvey, the moment hegets in, takes off his fine suit and his rings, and puts on a fustianjacket and breeches. They work at something requiring a great deal ofthe fire, and then we hear _birrs_, and _clanks_, and _whizzes_--whatyou might expect where some small machinery is in gear."

  "Producing, perhaps," said I, "something like _that_?" shewing him ahalf-crown piece.

  "Our very suspicion," replied he, as he took the piece into his hand,and seemed to wonder at the "turn out" of his little room. "But wheregot you it?"

  "With eleven more, on two of the window-soles of your staircase."

  "Hidden there by them?"

  "I can't say," replied I; "but hark ye, when would be the best time forme to see the ladies and Mr Harvey together--if in the fustian, so muchthe better?"

  "To-morrow forenoon," replied he. "They are all on the _stravaig_to-day."

  "Well, in the meantime, Richardson, you are mum."

  "Dumb."

  And leaving my useful informant, I proceeded on my way, ruminating asusual. It didn't need a witch to tell the intention of the deposit, orthe place selected for it. The false money would, of course, bedangerous in their room, and even in their pockets it would be imprudentto have more at a time than perhaps the single piece they were trying toutter. The deposit was thus a little outside bank, from which the threemight severally supply themselves any number of times a-day; and thoughthe bank stood a chance of being broken, they could lose nothing, whilethere would always be the difficulty of connecting them with it eitheras _depositors_ or _drawers_. The scheme exhibited at least adroitnessenough to satisfy me that the three were experienced hands. And yet,just observe the insanity of crime, whereby it renders itself a fool toitself. These clever people, no doubt, never thought that their splendiddresses, their engrossing admiration of their persons, and theirexacting claims on the attention of those who would have been verywilling to pass them by, only tended to the sharpening of officialvision.

  On making some inquiri
es at the Office, I learned that from what we knewas yet of the great Mr Harvey, there could be little doubt that he was apersonage who for years had been driving the same trade in the south ofEngland, where he had been often in trouble, and where not less than inLondon he was reputed as the best "coiner" in the kingdom. Hiscompanions were also known as adepts, whose beauty and accomplishmentsin another peculiar line enabled them to help the common store. Nor wasHarvey limited to one department alone, being as well adapted andinclined for _taking_ good money as for _coining_ or uttering bad; sothat viewing them as possessed of these three sources of income, we neednot be astonished at their personal equipment. How little people know ofthe money that passes, like water over stones, through the hands ofsuch gentry! The swell is talked of as a poor devil, with stolen finery,who lives merely in that sense from hand to mouth, which implies onlyfreedom from want. A swell is not thus made up or maintained. It is anexpensive character. The hunger and burst may haunt him as an inevitablecondition; but as is the hunger, so is the burst with them--anextravagance this latter that would provoke the envy of many a fastyouth, born in a mansion, and who runs through his property as fast asthe horse he rides. I am speaking of England. It is seldom that we havethe pleasure of seeing the true grandee here. Scotland is too poor forthem. Yet I have sometimes caught them grazing on our lean turnips, whenthe English fields were infested with these foxes, the detectives.

  So I had got on my beat no fewer than three swells, and surely a hunterof sorry thieves like me behoved to be on my honour. There is, Iunderstand, a difficult etiquette how to _approach_ the great, and howto _recede_, without shewing to their circumcised eyes the back part ofyour person. Would I not require a lesson to save me from beingdishonoured and disgraced by some offence against the code of genteelbehaviour? Might they not smile at my Scotch bluntness and vulgarity,and refuse obedience to a baton of Scotch fir? One consolation atleast--if the _rose_ is for polite nostrils, the _thistle_ is for thinskins. I scarcely think that I tried a rehearsal that night; but I wassaved from all fears by my hope of being received by my great man in afustian jacket; and as for the ladies, they might consider an Earlstongingham or a Manchester print sufficient for the trade of melting andsilvering.

  Next day I was on my watch, when about twelve o'clock I saw my great manenter the stair-foot of Ashley Buildings. The glance I got of himsatisfied me that Richardson had not exaggerated his grandeur.Everything on him was of the best, and the jemmy cane shewed thedelicacy of the hand by which it was held, and by which, too, it wasmade to go through those exquisite twirls, so expressive of a totalabsence of such a thing as thought, always necessarily vulgar, when oneis surrounded by vulgar people. I gave him time to be _natural_, that Imight be _easy_, and then went up stairs, leaving my assistant and twoconstables at the foot. Mrs Richardson shewed me in, but the mint waslocked, on the principle of the Queen's establishment, where valuablesrun a risk of being taken away. I knocked and listened. Surely mygrandees were in dishabille. At last my appeal, which they knew probablywas not an usual one, produced uneasiness, so that the cool-bloodedness,which betokens high breeding, was reversed--low words, but quick--rapidmovements--small chatterings. At length, perhaps at mere hazard, a voiceinquired--

  "Is that you, Missus Richardson?"

  "No," replied I.

  "Mister Richardson?"

  "No," again.

  "Who, then?"

  "A friend."

  And so the door gave way to the charmed word.

  "Friend? why, a lie!" said the voice of a man.

  "Perhaps not," said I, as I stood before them, and made my usual rapidsurvey.

  I had been wrong in my expectation. The fustian jacket had not taken theplace of the surtout, and my ladies were in the same splendid attire Ihad seen them in on the previous day, only the bonnets were not on theirheads--adorned these with an exquisite abundance of fine hair, smoothand glossy, and done up in the first style of fashion. Yes, I defy youto have found in Moray Place more personable young women; nor if I hadbeen there on a visit of condolence for the loss of one of their dearestfriends, could I have found manners more staid and correct--I might addgraceful, if I could lay claim to knowing much of the true and the falseof that accomplishment. But all this I observed by one or two rapidglances diverted from my principal investigation, which latter yieldedme at first but little: the indispensable bed--the table and chairs--theplate-rack, and some trunks. It was clear that they had resolved on nowork that day, and no trace of their machinery was visible. Myprincipal hope lay in an inviting press; and as I made a motion toproceed towards it, I thought I observed something like an indicationthat my gentleman would make free with the door; so applying my fingersto my mouth, I gave a shrill whistle, the sound of which echoed throughthe flat, startled my ladies out of their composure, and, what I wanted,reached the ear of my assistant, who, obeying the call, was instantly atthe door.

  I now proceeded to my work of search. From the lower part of the press Idrew out the identical fustian coat and trousers described to me byRichardson.

  "Your working-suit," said I to Mr Harvey, who seemed to survey thearticles with extreme contempt. "A fustian coat," continued I, as Itraced the blots of chemicals, and traces of quicksilver, and variousscorchings, "is a thing I cannot but treat with respect, when it belongsto arms of independence. It is the fustian that makes the broadcloth andthe silks."

  "They're not mine," said Harvey; "they must belong to the house."

  "They ain't Mr Harvey's, I assure you, sir," said Miss Matilda Jerome.

  "Perhaps not," said I, as I proceeded, "some people have a habit ofpossessing things that do not belong to them--_possession_ just wants apoint to make _property_, and perhaps this point is awanting here."

  Forthwith I produced from the press several likely things--a bottlewith quicksilver--some others with chemicals unknown to me--a portablevice with a screw to fix to the table, which latter had the screw markupon it still--a hammer--files, coarse and fine--the indispensablestamp--but no galvanic battery as I was led to expect,--a circumstancewhich puzzled me, because I never could suppose that such adepts couldbe contented with the old process of salt and friction.

  I had got enough for my purpose in the meantime, so, turning round--

  "Please put on your bonnets and plaids, my ladies," said I, "that you,Mr Harvey, and I, may walk up the High Street to my quarters."

  They obeyed with something even like alacrity, on the principle of thatsensible man known to history, who, when standing at the gallows foot,said, "If it is to be done, let it be done quickly." Such are theadvantages of having to do with genteel people.

  I have no doubt we made an excellent appearance in our promenade up theHigh Street, only I doubt if any one could comprehend the possibility ofsuch people condescending to enter a police cell. In searching the womenwe got, strangely enough, no bad money, but a considerable amount ofgood. The deposit on the window soles had been intended for this day'swork, and scared a little by its having been taken away, they hadresolved on out-door adventures.

  I still wanted something, as I have said, to complete the catalogue ofmy articles in the working department, and, above all, I required toconnect Mr Harvey with that, so I applied to him for help.

  "I wish to know where you live, when in town, Mr Harvey."

  "In Mr Campbell's, Bell's Wynd," he replied promptly affording still thesame evidence of the advantages of having to do with high-bred people.

  "Then you will please go with me and point it out."

  "Certainly."

  And getting again my assistant, I proceeded with him to Bell's Wynd,where, having mounted one of the worst stairs in that dark alley, wecame to a wretched little dwelling of two rooms and a dark closet. Howthe great man could have put up in that hovel is difficult to conceive,except upon the supposition that the _swells_ shrink when they get home.With the exception of a truckle-bed and a shake-down, there was scarcelya bit of furniture in the house; nor could I find a recess in any wayinviting
to me except the dark closet, which was adroitly barricaded bythe mattress of the shake-down, upon which Mrs Campbell, a miserableinvalid, lay in squalid misery. I made short work here. Laying hold ofthe mattress, I pulled it and its burden away from the closet door intothe middle of the floor. A loud scream burst from the invalid, which,from her look I knew to be intended as a fence to the closet, and notan expression of pain. The door was not locked, the bed and its occupanthaving probably been deemed a sufficient bar.

  "Ye've murdered me," cried the cunning wretch, so near her grave, andyet so keen in the concealment of vice. "The malison o' the Lord lighton your head, and blast it! Haud awa'! my grave-claes are in thatcloset, and nae man will enter till that day when my soul gaes hame toglory."

  "If you never die till you're _fit_, you'll live for ever," said I, whenI saw there was not a trace of grave-clothes in the dark hole,--fromwhich, however, I brought the galvanic battery, which I had foundawanting in Ashley Buildings to complete the apparatus, along withsixteen base shillings. I also got some other things of less importance.

  "And now, Mrs Campbell, I will push you back again," said I, as Iimpelled the mattress to its old place.

  "And the devil push _you_ hame," she cried, "for you've murdered me."

  And she groaned even in that way which aged people do when theirwickedness is brought home to them; for that there was a complicity inthese old people with Harvey, I had no doubt, even from the conduct ofthe harridan,--a conclusion confirmed by the assertion of Campbellhimself that Harvey was his nephew.

  I now took Mr Harvey back to the Police Office, thinking, as I went,upon the small amount of real happiness enjoyed by these adventurersamong the rocks that lie in the midst of civilisation. Harvey's domesticcomforts may be guessed from the account I have given. He was a man, andcould bear the want of ease at night, in consideration of his privilegeof walking the streets in a fine dress, and dining in the "Rainbow,"with respectable people next box. But what are we to say for the women,with apparently delicate forms, and at least so much of feminine feelingas we might see shining through their really handsome faces? One mightsum up all their pleasure in saying, that it consisted in promenadingthe streets in a silk gown. Even then they cannot be, and are not,devoid of fear. The same fear follows them home to an extinct fire, atruckle-bed with a few thin clothes, into which they huddle themselves,and try in sleep to get away from their own thoughts,--which thoughtssometimes go into the forms of dreams, wherein they take their own way,rejoicing in the tricks of a horrible nightmare. Such a being iseverything but the woman she was intended to be,--her enjoymentseverything but the affections and sympathies she was made to feel. Ofcourse, I am assuming here, and I go upon appearances, that Miss MatildaJerome and Miss Elizabeth Jackson were not originally Arabs. I mightmake another estimate in that case, for these are seldom touched byfear; and being against society, as society is against them, there issome inversion in them, the true nature of which, in enabling them toseek some strange kind of happiness, we cannot understand,--at least Icould never understand it, and I have seen them in all humours. Isuspect, however, that what we here sometimes call happiness, is only akind of accommodation of misery. Thus they take the _sign_ for the_thing_; and when they are roaring over the tankard, they think they areenjoying themselves. Perhaps they have more of the real thing in thehardness of their rebellion; for I think I have read somewhere, that man(and woman too, I suspect) is such a strange being that he can feel apleasure in the very _spite_ of pleasure. I can't say I would relishthat happiness very much.

  Well, I find I am at my old trade of spinning morals, without a touch ofwhich I suspect my experiences would not be of much service to mankind;and if I had had no hope of that, I doubt if I would have been at thetrouble of opening my black book of two thousand detections. I havelittle more to say about my grandees. They were brought to trial beforethe High Court, where, on the evidence of Richardson and his wife, theurchins who found the pieces, our own testimony, and the tale told bythe utensils, they were found guilty. This was not, as I have said, thefirst, nor the second, nor the third time for the gentleman; but theladies had never been handled so roughly before. Harvey got eight years'penal servitude, and the two belles five years each. As they sat at thebar, I could not help thinking of their appearance that day I took themfor ladies of rank on a mission of charity and mercy. Surely our realLADIES, in their present rage for finery, never think how easily,and by what base copyists, they are imitated.

  One word more on this subject. I am certainly not over-fastidious asregards female dress. I have seen it in all its varieties, from thescanty cincture that adorned our first mother Eve, to the ingeniouscomplications of modern taste and refinement; but I must observe, withall proper deference to the LADIES, that, in adopting the prevalentredundancy of skirt, the _imitated_ have become the _imitators_, as thefirst of these "circumambient amplitudes" that I ever saw in Edinburgh,was sported by one of the most distinguished "Nightingales" that everwalked Princes Street. In fact, after the experience of thirty years, Ifind it almost impossible to distinguish the maiden from thematron,--the human vehicle for smuggled or surreptitiously acquiredproperty from the sonsy housekeeper,--or the frail Magdalene, who knowsthere is a living secret to conceal, from the _robust_ "habitante" justreturned from an annual visit to her country cousins; nay, Paterfamiliashimself, I have heard, on entering a cab or a box at the theatre, has_breathed_, if he did not _utter_, a heartfelt and pocketfelt anathemaagainst such a superabundant and inconvenient display of hoop andcrinoline.

  Without attempting to quote the words of Pope as to "ribs of whale," Iwould simply say to all LADIES, as Hamlet said to the players, "I prayyou avoid it."