The Romany Rye

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CHAPTER XXVI

The Stage--Coachmen of England--A Bully Served Out--Broughton's
Guard--The Brazen Head.

I lived on very good terms, not only with the master and the old
ostler, but with all the domestics and hangers on at the inn;
waiters, chambermaids, cooks, and scullions, not forgetting the
"boots," of which there were three. As for the postillions, I was
sworn brother with them all, and some of them went so far as to
swear that I was the best fellow in the world; for which high
opinion entertained by them of me, I believe I was principally
indebted to the good account their comrade gave of me, whom I had
so hospitably received in the dingle. I repeat that I lived on
good terms with all the people connected with the inn, and was
noticed and spoken kindly to by some of the guests--especially by
that class termed commercial travellers--all of whom were great
friends and patronizers of the landlord, and were the principal
promoters of the dinner, and subscribers to the gift of plate,
which I have already spoken of, the whole fraternity striking me as
the jolliest set of fellows imaginable, the best customers to an
inn, and the most liberal to servants; there was one description of
persons, however, frequenting the inn, which I did not like at all,
and which I did not get on well with, and these people were the
stage-coachmen.

The stage-coachmen of England, at the time of which I am speaking,
considered themselves mighty fine gentry, nay, I verily believe the
most important personages of the realm, and their entertaining this
high opinion of themselves can scarcely be wondered at; they were
low fellows, but masters at driving; driving was in fashion, and
sprigs of nobility used to dress as coachmen and imitate the slang
and behaviour of the coachmen, from whom occasionally they would
take lessons in driving as they sat beside them on the box, which
post of honour any sprig of nobility who happened to take a place
on a coach claimed as his unquestionable right; and these sprigs
would smoke cigars and drink sherry with the coachmen in bar-rooms,
and on the road; and, when bidding them farewell, would give them a
guinea or a half-guinea, and shake them by the hand, so that these
fellows, being low fellows, very naturally thought no small liquor
of themselves, but would talk familiarly of their friends lords so
and so, the honourable misters so and so, and Sir Harry and Sir
Charles, and be wonderfully saucy to any one who was not a lord, or
something of the kind; and this high opinion of themselves received
daily augmentation from the servile homage paid them by the
generality of the untitled male passengers, especially those on the
fore part of the coach, who used to contend for the honour of
sitting on the box with the coachman when no sprig was nigh to put
in his claim. Oh! what servile homage these craven creatures did
pay these same coach fellows, more especially after witnessing this
or t'other act of brutality practised upon the weak and
unoffending--upon some poor friendless woman travelling with but
little money, and perhaps a brace of hungry children with her, or
upon some thin and half-starved man travelling on the hind part of
the coach from London to Liverpool with only eighteen pence in his
pocket after his fare was paid, to defray his expenses on the road;
for as the insolence of these knights was vast, so was their
rapacity enormous; they had been so long accustomed to have crowns
and half-crowns rained upon them by their admirers and flatterers,
that they would look at a shilling, for which many an honest
labourer was happy to toil for ten hours under a broiling sun, with
the utmost contempt; would blow upon it derisively, or fillip it
into the air before they pocketed it; but when nothing was given
them, as would occasionally happen--for how could they receive from
those who had nothing? and nobody was bound to give them anything,
as they had certain wages from their employers--then what a scene
would ensue! Truly the brutality and rapacious insolence of
English coachmen had reached a climax; it was time that these
fellows should be disenchanted, and the time--thank Heaven!--was
not far distant. Let the craven dastards who used to curry favour
with them, and applaud their brutality, lament their loss now that
they and their vehicles have disappeared from the roads; I, who
have ever been an enemy to insolence, cruelty, and tyranny, loathe
their memory, and, what is more, am not afraid to say so, well
aware of the storm of vituperation, partly learnt from them, which
I may expect from those who used to fall down and worship them.

Amongst the coachmen who frequented the inn was one who was called
"the bang-up coachman." He drove to our inn, in the fore part of
every day, one of what were called the fast coaches, and afterwards
took back the corresponding vehicle. He stayed at our house about
twenty minutes, during which time the passengers of the coach which
he was to return with dined; those at least who were inclined for
dinner, and could pay for it. He derived his sobriquet of "the
bang-up coachman" partly from his being dressed in the extremity of
coach dandyism, and partly from the peculiar insolence of his
manner, and the unmerciful fashion in which he was in the habit of
lashing on the poor horses committed to his charge. He was a large
tall fellow, of about thirty, with a face which, had it not been
bloated by excess, and insolence and cruelty stamped most visibly
upon it, might have been called good-looking. His insolence indeed
was so great, that he was hated by all the minor fry connected with
coaches along the road upon which he drove, especially the ostlers,
whom he was continually abusing or finding fault with. Many was
the hearty curse which he received when his back was turned; but
the generality of people were much afraid of him, for he was a
swinging strong fellow, and had the reputation of being a fighter,
and in one or two instances had beaten in a barbarous manner
individuals who had quarrelled with him.

I was nearly having a fracas with this worthy. One day, after he
had been drinking sherry with a sprig, he swaggered into the yard
where I happened to be standing; just then a waiter came by
carrying upon a tray part of a splendid Cheshire cheese, with a
knife, plate, and napkin. Stopping the waiter, the coachman cut
with the knife a tolerably large lump out of the very middle of the
cheese, stuck it on the end of the knife, and putting it to his
mouth nibbled a slight piece off it, and then, tossing the rest
away with disdain, flung the knife down upon the tray, motioning
the waiter to proceed; "I wish," said I, "you may not want before
you die what you have just flung away," whereupon the fellow turned
furiously towards me; just then, however, his coach being standing
at the door, there was a cry for coachman, so that he was forced to
depart, contenting himself for the present with shaking his fist at
me, and threatening to serve me out on the first opportunity;
before, however, the opportunity occurred he himself got served out
in a most unexpected manner.

The day after this incident he drove his coach to the inn, and
after having dismounted and received the contributions of the
generality of the passengers, he strutted up, with a cigar in his
mouth, to an individual who had come with him, and who had just
asked me a question with respect to the direction of a village
about three miles off, to which he was going. "Remember the
coachman," said the knight of the box to this individual, who was a
thin person of about sixty, with a white hat, rather shabby black
coat, and buff-coloured trousers, and who held an umbrella and a
small bundle in his hand. "If you expect me to give you anything,"
said he to the coachman, "you are mistaken; I will give you
nothing. You have been very insolent to me as I rode behind you on
the coach, and have encouraged two or three trumpery fellows, who
rode along with you, to cut scurvy jokes at my expense, and now you
come to me for money; I am not so poor, but I could have given you
a shilling had you been civil; as it is, I will give you nothing."
"Oh! you won't, won't you?" said the coachman; "dear me! I hope I
shan't starve because you won't give me anything--a shilling I why,
I could afford to give you twenty if I thought fit, you pauper!
civil to you, indeed! things are come to a fine pass if I need be
civil to you! Do you know who you are speaking to? why, the best
lords in the country are proud to speak to me. Why, it was only
the other day that the Marquis of--said to me--" and then he went
on to say what the Marquis said to him; after which, flinging down
his cigar, he strutted up the road, swearing to himself about
paupers.

"You say it is three miles to -," said the individual to me; "I
think I shall light my pipe, and smoke it as I go along."
Thereupon he took out from a side-pocket a tobacco-box and short
meerschaum pipe, and implements for striking a light, filled his
pipe, lighted it, and commenced smoking. Presently the coachman
drew near. I saw at once that there was mischief in his eye; the
man smoking was standing with his back towards him, and he came so
nigh to him, seemingly purposely, that as he passed a puff of smoke
came of necessity against his face. "What do you mean by smoking
in my face?" said he, striking the pipe of the elderly individual
out of his mouth. The other, without manifesting much surprise,
said, "I thank you; and if you will wait a minute, I will give you
a receipt for that favour;" then gathering up his pipe, and taking
off his coat and hat, he laid them on a stepping-block which stood
near, and rubbing his hands together, he advanced towards the
coachman in an attitude of offence, holding his hands crossed very
near to his face. The coachman, who probably expected anything but
such a movement from a person of the age and appearance of the
individual whom he had insulted, stood for a moment motionless with
surprise; but, recollecting himself, he pointed at him derisively
with his finger; the next moment, however, the other was close upon
him, had struck aside the extended hand with his left fist, and
given him a severe blow on the nose with his right, which he
immediately followed by a left-hand blow in the eye; then drawing
his body slightly backward, with the velocity of lightning he
struck the coachman full in the mouth, and the last blow was the
severest of all, for it cut the coachman's lips nearly through;
blows so quickly and sharply dealt I had never seen. The coachman
reeled like a fir-tree in a gale, and seemed nearly unsensed. "Ho!
what's this? a fight! a fight!" sounded from a dozen voices, and
people came running from all directions to see what was going on.
The coachman, coming somewhat to himself, disencumbered himself of
his coat and hat; and, encouraged by two or three of his brothers
of the whip, showed some symptoms of fighting, endeavouring to
close with his foe, but the attempt was vain, for his foe was not
to be closed with; he did not shift or dodge about, but warded off
the blows of his opponent with the greatest sang-froid, always
using the guard which I have already described, and putting in, in
return, short chopping blows with the swiftness of lightning. In a
very few minutes the countenance of the coachman was literally cut
to pieces, and several of his teeth were dislodged; at length he
gave in; stung with mortification, however, he repented, and asked
for another round; it was granted, to his own complete demolition.
The coachman did not drive his coach back that day, he did not
appear on the box again for a week; but he never held up his head
afterwards. Before I quitted the inn, he had disappeared from the
road, going no one knew where.

The coachman, as I have said before, was very much disliked upon
the road, but there was an esprit de corps amongst the coachmen,
and those who stood by did not like to see their brother chastised
in such tremendous fashion. "I never saw such a fight before,"
said one. "Fight! why, I don't call it a fight at all; this chap
here ha'n't got a scratch, whereas Tom is cut to pieces; it is all
along of that guard of his; if Tom could have got within his guard
he would have soon served the old chap out." "So he would," said
another, "it was all owing to that guard. However, I think I see
into it, and if I had not to drive this afternoon, I would have a
turn with the old fellow and soon serve him out." "I will fight
him now for a guinea," said the other coachman, half taking off his
coat; observing, however, that the elderly individual made a motion
towards him, he hitched it upon his shoulder again, and added,
"that is, if he had not been fighting already, but as it is, I am
above taking an advantage, especially of such a poor old creature
as that." And when he had said this, he looked around him, and
there was a feeble titter of approbation from two or three of the
craven crew, who were in the habit of currying favour with the
coachmen. The elderly individual looked for a moment at these
last, and then said, "To such fellows as you I have nothing to
say;" then turning to the coachmen, "and as for you," he said, "ye
cowardly bullies, I have but one word, which is, that your reign
upon the roads is nearly over, and that a time is coming when ye
will no longer be wanted or employed in your present capacity, when
ye will either have to drive dung-carts, assist as ostlers at
village ale-houses, or rot in the workhouse." Then putting on his
coat and hat, and taking up his bundle, not forgetting his
meerschaum, and the rest of his smoking apparatus, he departed on
his way. Filled with curiosity, I followed him.

"I am quite astonished that you should be able to use your hands in
the way you have done," said I, as I walked with this individual in
the direction in which he was bound.

"I will tell you how I became able to do so," said the elderly
individual, proceeding to fill and light his pipe as he walked
along. "My father was a journeyman engraver, who lived in a very
riotous neighbourhood in the outskirts of London. Wishing to give
me something of an education, he sent me to a day-school, two or
three streets distant from where we lived, and there, being rather
a puny boy, I suffered much persecution from my schoolfellows, who
were a very blackguard set. One day, as I was running home, with
one of my tormentors pursuing me, old Sergeant Broughton, the
retired fighting-man, seized me by the arm--"

"Dear me," said I, "has it ever been your luck to be acquainted
with Sergeant Broughton?"

"You may well call it luck," said the elderly individual; but for
him I should never have been able to make my way through the world.
He lived only four doors from our house; so, as I was running along
the street, with my tyrant behind me, Sergeant Broughton seized me
by the arm. 'Stop, my boy,' said he; 'I have frequently seen that
scamp ill-treating you; now I will teach you how to send him home
with a bloody nose; down with your bag of books; and now, my game
chick,' whispered he to me, placing himself between me and my
adversary, so that he could not observe his motions; 'clench your
fist in this manner, and hold your arms in this, and when he
strikes at you, move them as I now show you, and he can't hurt you;
now, don't be afraid, but go at him.' I confess that I was
somewhat afraid, but I considered myself in some degree under the
protection of the famous Sergeant, and, clenching my fist, I went
at my foe, using the guard which my ally recommended. The result
corresponded to a certain degree with the predictions of the
Sergeant; I gave my foe a bloody nose and a black eye, though,
notwithstanding my recent lesson in the art of self-defence, he
contrived to give me two or three clumsy blows. From that moment I
was the especial favourite of the Sergeant, who gave me further
lessons, so that in a little time I became a very fair boxer,
beating everybody of my own size who attacked me. The old
gentleman, however, made me promise never to be quarrelsome, nor to
turn his instructions to account, except in self-defence. I have
always borne in mind my promise, and have made it a point of
conscience never to fight unless absolutely compelled. Folks may
rail against boxing if they please, but being able to box may
sometimes stand a quiet man in good stead. How should I have fared
to-day, but for the instructions of Sergeant Broughton? But for
them, the brutal ruffian who insulted me must have passed
unpunished. He will not soon forget the lesson which I have just
given him--the only lesson he could understand. What would have
been the use of reasoning with a fellow of that description? Brave
old Broughton! I owe him much."

"And your manner of fighting," said I, "was the manner employed by
Sergeant Broughton?"

"Yes," said my new acquaintance; "it was the manner in which he
beat every one who attempted to contend with him, till, in an evil
hour, he entered the ring with Slack, without any training or
preparation, and by a chance blow lost the battle to a man who had
been beaten with ease by those who, in the hands of Broughton,
appeared like so many children. It was the way of fighting of him
who first taught Englishmen to box scientifically, who was the head
and father of the fighters of what is now called the old school,
the last of which were Johnson and Big Ben."

"A wonderful man, that Big Ben," said I.

"He was so," said the elderly individual; "but had it not been for
Broughton, I question whether Ben would have ever been the fighter
he was. Oh! there was no one like old Broughton; but for him I
should at the present moment be sneaking along the road, pursued by
the hissings and hootings of the dirty flatterers of that
blackguard coachman."

"What did you mean," said I, "by those words of yours, that the
coachmen would speedily disappear from the roads?"

"I meant," said he, "that a new method of travelling is about to be
established, which will supersede the old. I am a poor engraver,
as my father was before me; but engraving is an intellectual trade,
and by following it, I have been brought in contact with some of
the cleverest men in England. It has even made me acquainted with
the projector of the scheme, which he has told me many of the
wisest heads of England have been dreaming of during a period of
six hundred years, and which it seems was alluded to by a certain
Brazen Head in the story-book of Friar Bacon, who is generally
supposed to have been a wizard, but in reality was a great
philosopher. Young man, in less than twenty years, by which time I
shall be dead and gone, England will be surrounded with roads of
metal, on which armies may travel with mighty velocity, and of
which the walls of brass and iron by which the friar proposed to
defend his native land are the types." He then, shaking me by the
hand, proceeded on his way, whilst I returned to the inn.

CHAPTER XXVII

Francis Ardry--His Misfortunes--Dog and Lion Fight--Great Men of
the World.

A few days after the circumstance which I have last commemorated,
it chanced that, as I was standing at the door of the inn, one of
the numerous stage-coaches which were in the habit of stopping
there, drove up, and several passengers got down. I had assisted a
woman with a couple of children to dismount, and had just delivered
to her a band-box, which appeared to be her only property, which
she had begged me to fetch down from the roof, when I felt a hand
laid upon my shoulder, and heard a voice exclaim, "Is it possible,
old fellow, that I find you in this place?" I turned round, and,
wrapped in a large blue cloak, I beheld my good friend Francis
Ardry. I shook him most warmly by the hand, and said, "If you are
surprised to see me, I am no less so to see you; where are you
bound to?"

"I am bound for L-; at any rate, I am booked for that sea-port,"
said my friend in reply.

"I am sorry for it," said I, "for in that case we shall have to
part in a quarter of an hour, the coach by which you came stopping
no longer."

"And whither are you bound?" demanded my friend.

"I am stopping at present in this house, quite undetermined as to
what to do."

"Then come along with me," said Francis Ardry.

"That I can scarcely do," said I; "I have a horse in the stall
which I cannot afford to ruin by racing to L--- by the side of your
coach."

My friend mused for a moment: "I have no particular business at L-
--," said he; "I was merely going thither to pass a day or two,
till an affair, in which I am deeply interested, at C--- shall come
off. I think I shall stay with you for four-and-twenty hours at
least; I have been rather melancholy of late, and cannot afford to
part with a friend like you at the present moment; it is an
unexpected piece of good fortune to have met you; and I have not
been very fortunate of late," he added, sighing.

"Well," said I, "I am glad to see you once more, whether fortunate,
or not; where is your baggage?"

"Yon trunk is mine," said Francis, pointing to a trunk of black
Russian leather upon the coach.

"We will soon have it down," said I; and at a word which I gave to
one of the hangers-on of the inn, the trunk was taken from the top
of the coach. "Now," said I to Francis Ardry, "follow me, I am a
person of some authority in this house;" thereupon I led Francis
Ardry into the house, and a word which I said to a waiter forthwith
installed Francis Ardry in a comfortable private sitting-room, and
his trunk in the very best sleeping-room of our extensive
establishment.

It was now about one o'clock: Francis Ardry ordered dinner for
two, to be ready at four, and a pint of sherry to be brought
forthwith, which I requested my friend the waiter might be the very
best, and which in effect turned out as I requested; we sat down,
and when we had drunk to each other's health, Frank requested me to
make known to him how I had contrived to free myself from my
embarrassments in London, what I had been about since I quitted
that city, and the present posture of my affairs.

I related to Francis Ardry how I had composed the Life of Joseph
Sell, and how the sale of it to the bookseller had enabled me to
quit London with money in my pocket, which had supported me during
a long course of ramble in the country, into the particulars of
which I, however, did not enter with any considerable degree of
fulness. I summed up my account by saying that "I was at present a
kind of overlooker in the stables of the inn, had still some pounds
in my purse, and, moreover, a capital horse in the stall."

"No very agreeable posture of affairs," said Francis Ardry, looking
rather seriously at me.

"I make no complaints," said I, "my prospects are not very bright,
it is true, but sometimes I have visions both waking and sleeping,
which, though always strange, are invariably agreeable. Last
night, in my chamber near the hayloft, I dreamt that I had passed
over an almost interminable wilderness--an enormous wall rose
before me, the wall, methought, was the great wall of China:-
strange figures appeared to be beckoning to me from the top of the
wall; such visions are not exactly to be sneered at. Not that such
phantasmagoria," said I, raising my voice, "are to be compared for
a moment with such desirable things as fashion, fine clothes,
cheques from uncles, parliamentary interest, the love of splendid
females. Ah! woman's love," said I, and sighed.

"What's the matter with the fellow?" said Francis Ardry.

"There is nothing like it," said I.

"Like what?"

"Love, divine love," said I.

"Confound love," said Francis Ardry, "I hate the very name; I have
made myself a pretty fool by it, but trust me for ever being at
such folly again. In an evil hour I abandoned my former pursuits
and amusements for it; in one morning spent at Joey's there was
more real pleasure than in--"

"Surely," said I, "you are not hankering after dog-fighting again,
a sport which none but the gross and unrefined care anything for?
No, one's thoughts should be occupied by something higher and more
rational than dog-fighting; and what better than love--divine love?
Oh, there's nothing like it!"

"Pray, don't talk nonsense," said Francis Ardry.

"Nonsense," said I; "why I was repeating, to the best of my
recollection, what I heard you say on a former occasion."

"If ever I talked such stuff," said Francis Ardry, "I was a fool;
and indeed I cannot deny that I have been one: no, there's no
denying that I have been a fool. What do you think? that false
Annette has cruelly abandoned me."

"Well," said I, "perhaps you have yourself to thank for her having
done so; did you never treat her with coldness, and repay her marks
of affectionate interest with strange fits of eccentric humour?"

"Lord! how little you know of women," said Francis Ardry; "had I
done as you suppose, I should probably have possessed her at the
present moment. I treated her in a manner diametrically opposite
to that. I loaded her with presents, was always most assiduous to
her, always at her feet, as I may say, yet she nevertheless
abandoned me--and for whom? I am almost ashamed to say--for a
fiddler."

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