a book of scoundrels-第19节

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f　Gilderoy　was　unsurpassed　in　brutality；　he　fell　immeasurably　below　Hind　in　artistry　and　wit；　nor　may　he　be　compared　to　such　accomplished　highwaymen　as　Mull　Sack　or　the　Golden　Farmer。　　His　method　was　not　elevated　by　a　touch　of　the　grand　style。　　He　stamped　all　the　rules　of　the　road　beneath　his　contemptuous　foot；　and　cared　not　what　enormity　he　committed　in　his　quest　for　gold。　　Yet；　though　he　lived　in　the　true　Augustan　age；　he　yielded　to　no　one　of　his　rivals　in　glorious　recognition。　　So；　too；　Jack　Rann；　of　the　Sixteen　Strings；　was　a　near　contemporary　of　George　Barrington。　　While　that　nimble…fingered　prig　was　making　a　brilliant　appearance　at　Vauxhall；　and　emptying　the　pockets　of　his　intimates；　Rann　was　riding　over　Hounslow　Heath；　and　flashing　his　pistol　in　the　eye　of　the　wayfarer。　　The　very　year　in　which　Jack　danced　his　last　jig　at　Tyburn；　Barrington　had　astonished　London　by　a　fruitless　attempt　to　steal　Prince　Orloff's　miraculous　snuff…　box。　　And　not　even　Ellen　Roach　herself　would　have　dared　to　assert　that　Rann　was　Barrington's　equal　in　sleight　of　hand。　　But　Rann　holds　his　own　against　the　best　of　his　craft；　with　an　imperishable　name；　while　a　host　of　more　distinguished　cracksmen　are　excluded　even　from　the　Newgate　Calendar。

In　truth；　there　is　one　quality　which　has　naught　to　do　with　artistic　supremacy；　and　in　this　quality　both　Rann　and　Gilderoy　were　rich　beyond　their　fellows。　　They　knew　（none　better）　how　to　impose　upon　the　world。　　Had　their　deserts　been　even　less　than　they　were；　they　would　still　have　been　bravely　notorious。　　It　is　a　common　superstition　that　the　talent　for　advertisement　has　but　a　transitory　effect；　that　time　sets　all　men　in　their　proper　places。

Nothing　can　be　more　false；　for　he　who　has　once　declared　himself　among　the　great　ones　of　the　earth；　not　only　holds　his　position　while　he　lives；　but　forces　an　unreasoning　admiration　upon　the　future。　　Though　he　declines　from　the　lofty　throne；　whereon　his　own　vanity　and　love　of　praise　have　set　him；　he　still　stands　above　the　modest　level　which　contents　the　genuinely　great。　　Why　does　Euripides　still　throw　a　shadow　upon　the　worthier　poets　of　his　time？　　Because　he　had　the　faculty　of　displacement；　because　he　could　compel　the　world　to　profess　an　interest　not　only　in　his　work　but　in　himself。　　Why　is　Michael　Angelo　a　loftier　figure　in　the　history　of　art　than　Donatello；　the　supreme　sculptor　of　his　time？　　Because　Donatello　had　not　the　temper　which　would　bully　a　hundred　popes；　and　extract　a　magnificent　advertisement　from　each　encounter。　　Why　does　Shelley　still　claim　a　larger　share　of　the　world's　admiration　than　Keats；　his　indubitable　superior？　　Because　Shelley　was　blessed　or　cursed　with　the　trick　of　interesting　the　world　by　the　accidents　of　his　life。

So　by　a　similar　faculty　Gilderoy　and　Jack　Rann　have　kept　themselves　and　their　achievements　in　the　light　of　day。　　Had　they　lived　in　the　nineteenth　century　they　might　have　been　the　vendors　of　patent　pills；　or　the　chairmen　of　bubble　companies。　　Whatever　trade　they　had　followed；　their　names　would　have　been　on　every　hoarding；　their　wares　would　have　been　puffed　in　every　journal。　　They　understood　the　art　of　publicity　better　than　any　of　their　contemporaries；　and　they　are　remembered　not　because　they　were　the　best　thieves　of　their　time；　but　because　they　were　determined　to　interest　the　people　in　their　misdeeds。　　Gilderoy's　brutality；　which　was　always　theatrical；　ensured　a　constant　remembrance；　and　the　lofty　gallows　added　to　his　repute；　while　the　brilliant　inspiration　of　the　strings；　which　decorated　Rann's　breeches；　was　sufficient　to　conquer　death。　　How　should　a　hero　sink　to　oblivion　who　had　chosen　for　himself　so　splendid　a　name　as　Sixteen…　String　Jack？

So　far；　then；　their　achievement　is　parallel。　　And　parallel　also　is　their　taste　for　melodrama。　　Each　employed　means　too　great　or　too　violent　for　the　end　in　view。　　Gilderoy　burnt　houses　and　ravished　women；　when　his　sole　object　was　the　acquisition　of　money。　　Sixteen…String　Jack　terrified　Bagnigge　Wells　with　the　dreadful　announcement　that　he　was　a　highwayman；　when　his　kindly；　stupid　heart　would　have　shrunk　from　the　shedding　of　a　drop　of　blood。　　So　they　both　blustered　through　the　world；　the　one　in　deed；　the　other　in　word；　and　both　played　their　parts　with　so　little　refinement　that　they　frightened　the　groundlings　to　a　timid　admiration。　　Here　the　resemblance　is　at　an　end。　　In　the　essentials　of　their　trade　Gilderoy　was　a　professional；　Rann　a　mere　amateur。　　They　both　bullied；　but；　while　Sixteen…String　Jack　was　content　to　shout　threats；　and　pick　up　half…a…crown；　Gilderoy　breathed　murder；　and　demanded　a　vast　ransom。　　Only　once　in　his　career　did　the　‘disgraceful　Scotsman'　become　gay　and　debonair。　　Only　once　did　he　relax　the　tension　of　his　frown；　and　pick　pockets　with　the　lightness　and　freedom　of　a　gentleman。　　It　was　on　his　voyage　to　France　that　he　forgot　his　old　policy　of　arson　and　pillage；　and　truly　the　Court　of　the　Great　King　was　not　the　place　for　his　rapacious　cruelty。　　Jack　Rann；　on　the　other　hand；　would　have　taken　life　as　a　prolonged　jest；　if　Sir　John　Fielding　and　the　sheriffs　had　not　checked　his　mirth。　　He　was　but　a　bungler　on　the　road；　with　no　more　resource　than　he　might　have　learned　from　the　common　chap…book；　or　from　the　dying　speeches；　hawked　in　Newgate　Street。　　But　he　had　a　fine　talent　for　merriment；　he　loved　nothing　so　well　as　a　smart　coat　and　a　pretty　woman。　　Thieving　was　no　passion　with　him；　but　a　necessity。　　How　could　he　dance　at　a　masquerade　or　court　his　Ellen　with　an　empty　pocket？　　So　he　took　to　the　road　as　the　sole　profession　of　an　idle　man；　and　he　bullied　his　way　from　Hounslow　to　Epping　in　sheer　lightness　of　heart。　　After　all；　to　rob　Dr。　Bell　of　eighteenpence　was　the　work　of　a　simpleton。　　It　was　a　very　pretty　taste　which　expressed　itself　in　a　pea…green　coat　and　deathless　strings；　and　Rann　will　keep　posterity's　respect　rather　for　the　accessories　of　his　art　than　for　the　art　itself。　　On　the　other　hand；　you　cannot　imagine　Gilderoy　habited　otherwise　than　in　black；　you　cannot　imagine　this　monstrous　matricide　taking　pleasure　in　the　smaller　elegancies　of　life。　　From　first　to　last　he　was　the　stern　and　beetle…browed　marauder；　who　would　have　despised　the　frippery　of　Sixteen…String　Jack　as　vehemently　as　his　sudden　appearance　would　have　frightened　the　foppish　lover　of　Ellen　Roach。

Their　conduct　with　women　is　sufficient　index　of　their　character。　　Jack　Rann　was　too　general　a　lover　for　fidelity。　　But　he　was　amiable；　even　in　his　unfaithfulness；　he　won　the　undying　affection　of　his　Ellen；　he　never　stood　in　the　dock　without　a　nosegay　tied　up　by　fair　and　nimble　fingers；　he　was　attended　to　Tyburn　by　a　bevy　of　distinguished　admirers。　　Gilderoy；　on　the　other　hand；　approached　women　in　a　spirit　of　violence。　　His　Sadic　temper　drove　him　to　kill　those　whom　he　affected　to　love。　　And　his　cruelty　was　amply　repaid。　　While　Ellen　Roach　perjured　herself　to　save　the　lover；　to　whose　memory　she　professed　a　lifelong　loyalty；　it　was　Peg　Cunningham　who　wreaked　her　vengeance　in　the　betrayal　of　Gilderoy。　　He　remained　true　to　his　character；　when　he　ripped　up　the　belly　of　his　betrayer。　　This　was　the　closing　act　of　his　life。

Rann；　also；　was　consistent；　even　to　the　gallows。　　The　night　before　his　death　he　entertained　seven　women　at　supper；　and　outlaughed　them　all。　　The　contrast　is　not　so　violent　as　it　appears。　　The　one　act　is　melodrama；　the　other　farce。　　And　what　is　farce；　but　melodrama　in　a　happier　shape？



THOMAS　PURENEY


THOMAS　PURENEY

THOMAS　PURENEY；　Archbishop　among　Ordinaries；　lived　and　preached　in　the　heyday　of　Newgate。　　His　was　the　good　fortune　to　witness　Sheppard's　encounter　with　the　topsman；　and　to　shrive　the　battered　soul　of　Jonathan　Wild。　　Nor　did　he　fall　one　inch　below　his　opportunity。　　Designed　by　Providence　to　administer　a　final　consolation　to　the　evil…doer；　he　permitted　no　false　ambition　to　distract　his　talent。　　As　some　men　are　born　for　the　gallows；　so　he　was　born　to　thump　the　cushion　of　a　prison　pulpit；　and　his　peculiar　aptitude　was　revealed　to　him　before　he　had　time　to　spend　his　strength　in　mistaken　endeavour。

For　thirty　years　his　squat；　stout　figure　was　amiably　familiar　to　all　such　as　enjoyed　the　Liberties　of　the　Jug。　　For　thirty　years　his　mottled　nose　and　the　rubicundity　of　his　cheeks　were　the　ineffaceable　ensigns　of　his　intemperance。　　Yet　there　was　a　grimy　humour　in　his　forbidding　aspect。　　The　fusty　black　coat；　which　sat　ill　upon　his　shambling　frame；　was　all　besmirched　with　spilled　snuff；　and　the　lees　of　a　thousand　quart　pots。　　The　bands　of　his　profession　were　ever　awry　upon　a　tattered　shirt。　　His　ancient　wig　scattered　dust　and　powder　as　he　went；　while　a　single　buckle　of　some　tawdry　metal　gave　a　look　of　oddity　to　his　clumsy；　slipshod　feet。　　A　caricature　of　a　man；　he　ambled　and　chuckled　and　seized　the　easy　pleasures　within　his　reach。　　There　was　never　a　summer's　day　but　he　caught　upon　his　brow　the　few　faint　gleams　of　sunlight　that　penetrated　the　gloomy　yard。　　Hour　after　hour　he　would　sit；　his　short　fingers　hardly　linked　across　his　belly；　drinking　his　cup　of　ale；　and　puffing　at　a　half…extinguished　tobacco…pipe。　　Meanwhile　he　would　reflect　upon　those　triumphs　of　oratory　which　were　his　supreme　delight。　　If　it　fell　on　a　Monday　that　he　took　the　air；　a　smile　of　satisfaction　lit　up　his　fat；　loose　features；　for　still　he