Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 July 1883 — THE GENTLEMAN BEGGAR. [ARTICLE]

THE GENTLEMAN BEGGAR.

One morning, many years ago, I called by appointment on Mt. John Balance, the fashionable pawnbroker, to accompany him to Liverpool, in pursuit for A lev anting customer, foi; Balance, in addition to pawning, does a little business in the 60-per-cent. line. It rained in torrents when the cab stopped at the passage which leads post the pawning boxes to his private door. The cabman rang twice, and at length Balance appeared, looming through the mist and rain in the entry, illuminated by his perpetual cigar, As I eyed him rather impatiently, remembering that trains wait for no man, something like a hairy dog or bundle of rags rose up at his feet and haired his passage for a moment. Then Balance cried out with an exclamation, in answer apparently to a something I could not hear; “ What, man alive! slept in the passage! there, take that and get some breakfast, for heaven’s sake. ” So saying, he jumped, into the “hansom,” ans -we bowled away at ten miles an hour, just catching the expless as the doors of the station were closing. My curiosity was full set; for, although Balance can be free with his money, it is not exactly to beg-; gars that his generosity is usually displayed; so, when comfortably ensconced in a coupe, I finished with: “You are liberal with your money this morning; pray, how often do you give silver to street cadgers? because I shall know what walk to take when flats and sharps leave off buying law.” Balance, who would have made an excellent parson if he had not been bred.to a case-hardening trade, and has still a soft bit left in his heart that is always fighting with his hard heart, did not smile at all, but looked as grim as if squeezing a lemon into his Saturday night’s punch. He answers slowly: “A cadger—yes,. a beggar—a miserable wretch, he is now; but let me tell you, Master David, that that miserable bundle of rags was born and bred a gentleman; the son of a nobleman, the husband of an heiress, and has sat and dined at tables yyhere you and I, Master only allowed to Mew the plate by favor of the butler. I have lent him thousands, and been well paid. The last thing I .had from him was his court suit, and I hold now his bill for £IOO, that will be paid, I expect, when he dies.” “J¥hy, what nonsense you are talking. Yoji must be dreaming this morning. , However, we are alone; I’ll light a weed in defiance of railway law; you shall spin that yarn; for, true or untrue, it will fill np the. time to LiverP OO . ' “At* for yarn, ” replied Balance, “the whole story is short enough; and, as for truth, that you easily find out if you like to take the trouble. I thought the poor wretch was dead, and I oyvn it put rhe dut infecting him this morning, for I had a curious ‘dream last night. ” “Oh, hang your dreams. Tell us about this gentleman beggar that bleeds vou of half-crowns—that melts the heart even of a pawn-broker.” “Well, then, that beggar is the illegitimate son of the late Marquis of Hoopborough by a Spanish lady of rank. He received a first-rate waa Wougfit up in his father’s house. At a very early age he obtained an ap- ■ polntment in a public office, was presented by the Marquis at court and received into the first society, where his handsome person and agreeable map~ ners made him a great favorite. Soon after cojnijigf of age Jhe married the Sir v ■ortraght Kim a wery handsome fortune, which was . strictly settled on herself. They lived in splendid style, kept severed carriages, a house in town and a place in the country. For some reason or other# idleness, or. to please his lady’s pride, he resigned his appointment. His father died and left him lathing; indeed,.he seemed at that time very handsomely provided for. “Very soon Mr. and Mrs. Moilnos Fitz Roy began to disagree. She was cold, correct—he was hot' and random.

He wa* quite dependent 6n her, and she made ‘him. feel it. When he began to get into debt he came to me. At length «o«as shocking quarrel occurred; some caHtof jealousy on the wife’s side, not withput reason, I believe, and the end of it was Mr. Fitz Boy was turned out of doors, The house Was hie Wife’s, the furniture was his Wife’s, and the fortune washis wife’s—he was, in fact, her pensioner. He left with a few hundred pounds ready nfbney and some person al jewelry, and and Went ton hotel. Ofi these and - credit he lived* Being illegitimate-, he had hO relations; being a tool when he spent his money he lost his friends. The world took his wife’s part when they found she had the fortune, and the only parties who interfered were her relatives, who did the best io make, the quarrel incur able. To Uro wn atl, one night,he was tun Oyer by a cab,, was carried to a hospital and lay there for months, and was, during several weeks of the time, unconscious. A message to the wife, by the hands of one of his debauched companions, sent by a humane surgeon, obtained amintimation thafr‘if he died, Mr. Croak, the undertaker to the family, had orders to see tel the funeral,' and. that Mrs. gwas ?n the point of starting for tinent, not to return for some When Fitz Boy was discharged* to me, limping on his court suit, and told me’his t was really sorry for fellow,euch a handsome, thoroughbredlooking man. He was going then into the West somewhere to try to hunt Out a friend. ‘What to do, Balance,Hie said, TdonJifcknOW. I can't dig, and unless somebody will make me their gamekeeper I.must starve, or beg, as pay Jezebel bade me when we parted.’ ‘ “I lost sight of Molinos for a long time, and when I next came upon him it was in the rookery of Westminster, in a low lodging-house, where I was searching with an officer for stolen goods. He was pointed out to me as the ‘gentleman cadger,’ because he was so free with hia. money when ‘in luck.’ He recognized me, but turned away tlien. I have since seen him and relieved him more than once, although he never asks for anything. How he lives, heaven knows. Without money,. without friends, without, useful education of any kind, he tramps the country, as you saw him, perhaps doing a little hop picking or haymaking, only happy when he obtains the means to get drunk. I have heard through the kitch en whispers, that you know come to me, that he is entitled to some property, and I expect if he were to die his wife would pay the £ICO bill I hold; at any rate, what I have told you I know to be true, and the bundle of rags I relieved just now is known in every thieves’ lodging as the ‘ gentleman cadger.’”

This story produced an impression on me. lam fond of specuh.tion and like the excitement of a legal hunt as much as some do a fox chase. A gen'tlernan, a beggar, a wife rolling in weajth, rumors of unknown property due to the husband; it seemed as if there was pickings for me amidst- this carrion of pauperism. Before returning from • Liverpool I had purchased the gentleman beggar’s acceptance from Balance. I th.-n inserted in the Tinies the following advertisement: “Horace Molinos Fitz Roy. If this gentleman will apply to David Discount, Esq., solicitor, St. James’, he will hear of something to his advantage. Any person furnishing Mr. F.’s address shall receive £1 Is reward. He was las| seen,” etc. Within twentyfour hours I had ample proof of the wide circulation of the Times. My office was besieged by beggars of every degree—men and women, lame and blind, Irish, Scotch, and English, some on crutches, some in bowls, some in go-carts. They all knew him as the “ffentleman” and I must do the regular fraternity of tramps the justice to say thaf toot one would answer a question until he made certain that I meant the “gentleman” no harm. One evening, about three weeks after the. appearance of the advertisement, my filerk- announced “another There came in an old man leaning on a staff, clad in a soldier’s gray coat, Jill patched and torn, with a battered hat, from under which a mass of tangled hair fell over his shoulders and half concealed his face. The beggar, in a weak, wheezy, hesitating tone, said,: “You have advertised for Molinos FitzRoy. I hope you don’t mean him jjny harm; he is sunk, I think, too low <for enmity now; and surely no one would sport with such misery as his.” These last words were, uttered in a sort of piteous whisper. I answered quickly: “Heaven forbid I should sport.with misery; I mean and hope to do him good, as well as myself.” “Then, sir, I am Molinos Fitz-Roy. “ While we were conversing, candles were brought in... I have not very tender nerves —my head would not agree with them—bat I own I started and shuddered when I saw and knew that the wretched creature before me was under BO years of age and once a gentleman. Sharp, aquilme features, reduced to literal skm and bone, were begrimed and covered with dry, fair hair; the white teeth of the half-open mouth chattered with eagerness, and made more hideous the foul pallor of the rest of the countenance. As he stood leaning on a staff’, half bent, his long, yellow, bony fingers clasped over the crutch-head of his stick, he was indeed a picture of misery, famine, squalor and premature age too horrible to dwell upon. I made him sit down, and then sent for smqe refreshment, which he devoured Jm e a 'ghoul, and set to work to unravel his story. It was difficult to keep to the poiflt; but with pains I learned what convinced me that he was entitled to some property, whether great or small there is no evidence. On parting, I said, “Now, Mr. F., you must stay in town while I make proper inquiries. What allowance will be enough to keep you comfortably ?” He answered humbly, after much ( pressing, <r Would you think 10 shillings too much?” r, ; I don’t like, if I do these things at all, to do them shabbily, so I said: “Come every Saturday and you shall have a pound.” He was profuse in his thanks, and all men are as long as distress lasts. . ' I had previously learned that my ragged client’s wife was in England living In a splendid house in Hyde Park gardens, under her maiden name. On the following day the Earl of Owen called upon me, wanting £5,000 by 5 o’clock the same evening. It was a case of life or death with him, and so I made my terms, and took advantage of of his pressure to excuse a coup de main. I proposed that he should drive me home to receive the money, calling at Mrs. Molinos’, in Hyde Park gardens, *on qut way. I knew that the coronet and liveries of his-father, the

Marquis, would insure me an audience with Mi s. Molinos Fitz-Roy. i cheme answered. I was introduced into the lady’s presence. She was, «nd probably is, a very stately, handsome Woman, with pale complexion, high, solid forehead, regular features, thin, pinched, self-satisfied mouth. My interview Was Very short. I plunged into the middle Of the affair, but had scarcely mentioned the word httsbfcfid when «he interrupted me with, U 1 presume you have loaned this profligate person money, and you want me to pay you.” She paused, and then said: “He shall not have a farthing.” As she spokh her white face beteame Bcarlch “But, tnadanij the into is starving. I have strong feasoiis for believing he is entitled to property, and if you refuse . any assistant I must take other measures.” She rang the bell, wrote something rapidly on a card, and, as the footman appeared, pushed it toward me across the table with the air of touching a toad, sAyiug: “There, sir, is the address of my solicitors} apply to them if yott think you have Any claim. Robert, show the person out, take care he is not admitted again. ” So far I had effected nothing, and, to tell the truth, felt rather crest-fallen Under the .influence of that grand manner peculiar to certain great ladies and to all great actresses.

My next visit was to the attorneys, Messrs. Leasem & Fashun, of Lincoln’s Inn Square, and there I was at home. I had had dealings with the firm before. They are agents for half the aristocracy, who always run in crowds like sheep after the same wine merchant, the same architects, the same horse dealers and the same law agents. It may be doubted whether the quality of law and land management they get on this principle is equal to their wine and horses. At any rate, my friends at Lincoln’s Inn, like others of the same class, are distinguished by their courteous manners, deliberate proceedings, innocence of legal technicalities, long credit and heavy charges. Leasem, the elder partner, wears powder and a huge bunch of .seals, lives in Queen square, drives a brougham, gives the dinners and does the cordial department. He is so strict in performing the latter duty that he once addressed a poacher who had shot a Duke’s keeper as “my dear creature,” although he afterward hanged Inin. Fashun has chambers in St. James street, drives a cab, wears a tip, and does the grasd ha-ha style. My business lay with Leasem. The interviews and letters passing were numerous. However, it came at last to the following dialogue: “Well, my dear Mr. Discount,” began Mr. Leasem, Who hates me like poison, “I’m really very sorry that poor, dear Molinos —knew his father well; a great man; a perfect gentleman; but you know what women are, eh, Mr. Discount ?. My client, won’t advance a shilling ; she knows it would only be wasted in low dissipation. Now, don’t you think (this was said very insinuatingly) —don’t you think he had better be sent to the work-house ?• Very comfortable accommodations there, I can assure you —fheat twice a week, and excellent soup; "and then, Mr. Discount, we might consider about allowing you something for that bill.”

“Mr. Leasem, can you reconcile it to yoftr conscience to make such an arrangement? Here’s a wife rolling in luxury and a husband starving. ” ..“No, Mr. Discount, not starving; there is the work-house, as I observed before; beside, allow me to suggest that these appeals to feeling are quite unprofessional—quite unprofessional, ” “Bq.t, Mr. Leasem, touching this property which the poor. man 'is entitled to ?” “Why, therey again, Mr. D., you must excuse me; -you really must. I don’t say he is; I don’t say he is not. If you know he is entitled to property, I am sure you know how to proceed. The law is open to you, Mr. Discount—the law is open, and a man of your talent will know how to use it. ” “Then, Mr. Leasem, you mean that I mpst, in order to right this starving man, file a bill of discovery to extract from you the particulars of his rights. You have the marriage settlement and all the information, and you decline to allow a pension or afford any information ; the man is to starve or go to the work-house. ” “Why, Mr. D., yon are’so quick and violent, it really is not professional; but you see (here a subdued smile of triumph) it has been decided that a solicitor is not bound to afford such information as you ask to the injury of his client.”

"Then you mean that this poor Molinos may rot and starve, while you keep secret from him, at his wife’s request, his title to an income, and that the Court of Chancery will back you in this iniquity,” I kept repeating the word “starve,” because I saw it made my respectable opponent wince. “Well, then, just listen to me. I know that in the happy state of your equity law, chancery can’t help my client, but I have another plan: I will go hence to my office, issue a writ, take your client’s husband into execution; as soon as he is lodged in jail I shall file his schedule in the Insolvent Court, and when he comes up for his discharge, J shall put you in the witnessbox and examine you on oath, ‘touch®ing the property of which you know the insolvent to be possessed,’ and where will be your privilege communication then?” The respectable Leasem’s face length* ened in a twinkling, his comfortable, confident air vanished, he ceased twiddling his gold chain, and, at length, he muttered: “Suppose we pay the debt ?” “Why, then, I’ll arrest him thq .day after for another. ” “But, my dear Mr. Discount, surely such conduct would not be quite tespect“That’s my business; my client has been wronged, I am determined to right him, and when the aristocratic firm of Leasem & Fa shun takes refuge, according to the custom of respectable repudiators, in the cool arbors of the Court of Chancery, why W discounting (attorney like Davjiir. discount need not hesitate about cutting a bludgeon out of the insolvent court. ” “Well, well, Mr, D., you are sb warm —so fiery. We must deliberate, we must consult. You will give me until the day after to-morrow, and then we’® write you our final determination. Tn Mie meantime send us a copy of yoW authority to act for Mr. MolinoS dljf course I lost no time I the gentleman beggar to sign a proper letter. ■- I •Oh-the appointed day cams a communication with L, & £ seal, jbich J

opened, not without professional eagerness. It was as follows: “In re Molinos Fitz-Roy and Another. “SiR: tn answer to your application on behalf of Mr. Molinos Fite-Roy, we beg to inform yon that Under the administration of a paternal attnt Who died intestate yotit client ik entitled to £2j500 8s fldj 8-per-cente; £1,500 19s 4d, Reduced; £I,OOO long annuities, £SOO bank stock, £8,500 India stock, besides other —securities, making up about £IO,OOO, which we are Sred to transfer over to Mr. os .Fitz-Roy’s direction forthwith. ” Herb a Windfall, it quite took away m.jr breath: As dusk came iriy gentleman beggar, and What puzzled me was how to break the news to him. Being very much overwhelmed with business that day I had not much time for consideration. He came in rather better dressed than wen I first saw him, with only a week’s beard on bis chin, but, as usual, not quite sober. Six weeks had elapsed since our first interview. He was still the humble, trembling, low-voiced creature I first knew him. After a prelude, I said: “I And, Mr. F., you are entitled to something. Pray, what do you mean to give me in addition to my bill for obtaining it?” He answered rapidly: “Oh, take half. If there is £IOO take half; if there is £SOO, take half.” “No, no, Mr. F., I don’t do business in that way; I shall be satisfied with 10 per cent.” It was so settled. I then led him out into the street, impelled to tell him the news, yet dreading the effect; not daring to make the revelation in my office, for fear of a scene. I began hesitatingly, “Mr. Fftz-Roy, I am happy ,to say that I find you are entitled to * £10,000.” “Ten thousand pounds,” he echoed; “£10,000!” he shrieked; “£IO,OOOP he. yelled, seizing my arm violently. “You-are a brick. Here, cab, cab.” Several drove up the shout might have been heard a mileoff. He jumped in the first. “Where to?” said the driver.

“To a tailor’s, you rascal.” “Ten thousand pounds; ha, ha, ha!” he repeated hysterically when in the cab, and every moment grasping my arm. Presently he subsided, looked me straight in the face, and muttered with agonizing fervor: “What a jolly brick you are!” The tailor, the hosier, the bootmaker, the hair-dresser, were in turn visited by this poor , pagan of externals. As,, by degrees, under their hands, he emerged from the beggar to the gentleman, his spirits rose; his eyes brightened; he walked erect, but always nervously grasping my arm; fearing, apparently, to lose sight of me for e moment, lest his fortune should vanish with me. The important pride with which he gaye his orders to the astonished tradesman for the finest and best of everything, and. the amazed air of the fashionable hair-dresser when he presented his matted locks and stubble chin, •to Ue“6ut and shaved,” may be acted—it cannot be described. ~

By the time the external transformation was complete, and I sat do s wn in*a case in the Haymarket, opposite a haggard, but handsome, thoroughbredlooking man, whose ait, with the exdeption of the wild eyes and deeply browned face, did not differ from the stereotyped man about town sitting around us. jflk Molinos Fitz-Roy had already almost forgotten the past; he bulled the waiter and criticised the wine as if he had done nothing else but dine and drink and scold there all the days of his life. , Once he wished to drink my health, and would have proclaimed his whole story to the coffee-room assembly in a raving style. When I left he almost wept in terror at the idea of losing sight of me. But allowing' for these ebullitions- -the natural result of such a whirl of events —he was wonderfully calm and self-possessed. The next day his first thought was to distribute £SO among his friends, the cadgers, at a house of call in Westminster, and formally to dissolve his connection with them; those present undertaking for the “fraternity” that for the future he should never be noticed by them in public or private. I can’t follow his career much farther. Adversity had taught him nothing. He was soon again surrounded by well-bred vampires, who had forgotten him when penniless; but they amused him, and that w'as enough. The £IO,OOO were rapidly melting, when he invited me to a grand dinner at Richmond, which incliided a dozen of the most agreeable, good-looking, well-dressed datidies of London, interspersed with a display of pretty butterfly bonnets. We dined deliciously, and drank as men do of iced ■dines in -the dog days—-looking dpwn from Richmond Hill.

One of the pink bonnets crowned Fitz Roy with a wreath of flowers; he looked—less the intellect—as handsome as Alcibiades. Intensely excited and flushed, he rose with a champagne glass in his hand to propose my health. The oratorical powers of his father had not descended to him. Jerking out sentences by spasms, at length he said: “I was a beggar—l am a gentleman—rhanks to this—” Here he leaned heavily on my shoulder a moment and then fell back. We raised him, loosened his neckcloth—“Fainted!” said the ladies. “Djunk I” said the gentlemen. He was dead.