Penny Dreadful Multipack Vol. 1 (Illustrated. Annotated. 'Wagner The Wehr-Wolf,' 'Varney The Vampire,' 'The Mysteries of London Vol. 1' + Bonus Features) (Penny Dreadful Multipacks) (308 page)

 
    "And sure enough we did wait until eight o'clock
In the evening before we started; and then no thanks to the man nor the
veterinary surgeon, for the former was still too tipsy to move, and the latter
could do nothing for the horse. However, another man came forward, at a late
hour, and offered his services. He not only cured the horse in a few minutes,
but also undertook to drive the cart. The constable accordingly put a pair of
handcuffs on me, and took me out into the yard where the vehicle was waiting. A
man with a sallow face and bushy red hair, was already seated in front, holding
the whip and reins; and as I mounted he gave me a look which I immediately
understood. That man was no other than my friend, the swarthy gipsy, so well-disguised
that his own mother would have scarcely known him.
    "Away we went at a rattling pace it was soon dark,
and the constable told the driver not to go at such a rate. But he did not obey
the command: on the contrary, he whipped the horse the more; and the cart
bounded along the road as if it was for a wager. The constable swore and prayed
by turns: the driver laughed; and presently the cart upset into a dry ditch.
'Run for your liberty!' cried the driver to me, as he pulled me from the ditch;
and I followed him across the fields with a speed that was increased by hearing
the constable shouting '
Stop, thief!
' behind me. But in a very few
minutes those cries became fainter and fainter, until they at length ceased
altogether. Still my deliverer pursued his way, and at such a rate, too, that I
was scarcely able to keep up with him.
    "At length we stopped in a thicket, and sat down
to rest. My deliverer took a file from his pocket and worked away at my
manacles with such a skill and energy, that in a few minutes I was relieved
from them. He then produced some food, and I ate a hearty meal. When the meal
was over, my companion condescended to give me an explanation of certain
matters which had hitherto remained wrapped up in some degree of mystery.
    "'You must be informed,' he said, 'that my name is
Morcar, and that I am the son of Zingary, king of the gipsies. The female whom
you saw with me yesterday and this morning, is my wife. A considerable portion
of the money earned by our race consists of fees paid by the simple and
credulous, for having their fortunes told. In order to obtain the necessary
information relative to the inhabitants of those places or dwellings which we
visit, we are compelled to assume many disguises, or to make use of the agency
of others, not connected with us, to gather that information for us. Some days
ago, at an early hour in the morning, I was loitering about in the
neighbourhood of the Three Compasses, and from behind a hedge saw you make off
with the boots and trousers which a boy had been brushing in the yard. Chance
led me that same afternoon to the village where you played your famous trick
upon old Dobbin; and, as the story spread like wild-fire through the place
immediately after your detection by cousin George, I could not avoid hearing
all the particulars. I got a lift in a cart from that village to the
market-town where I met you the same night at the inn. I could not help
admiring your boldness and ingenuity; and, while I sat quietly smoking my pipe
in the taproom, listening to the discourse of the inmates, and picking up a
variety of information, to be turned to future account, I noticed your
embarrassment at the appearance of the waiter to collect the money owing by
each individual. I had made a good day's work in a certain way, and was
disposed to be liberal: accordingly, at a moment when you were turned in
another direction, I placed the two half-crowns close by where you sate on the
bench. Next day I threw off what I call my 'sallow disguise, and repaired to
another public-house, near the market, to glean additional information, all of
which our women have since turned to ample profit. There I was enabled to give
you a warning which was really important to you, as old Dobbin's cousin George
had actually arrived that morning in the town to attend the market. A few days
afterwards I was roving with my wife along the by-lanes in the neighbourhood of
Clodhopper's farm, endeavouring by some means to glean what we could concerning
the young women at that place — for our finest harvests are always
reaped at farm-houses. Again I met you; and I made you the instrument of my
design. But,' added Morcar, with a smile, 'you went farther than you were
instructed: you did a thing which we never do — I mean, steal money.
We take for our use a sucking-pig, a fowl, or a goose; and we do not consider
that stealing. We also snare rabbits and game; and we look upon it as no crime.
However, you saw the scrape into which that business of the purse got me and my
wife this morning. You saved us, and I vowed to save you also. The moment I was
discharged I went to the stable where the horse that was to convey you to gaol
was kept, and bribed the ostler to drive a nail into his foot so as to touch
the flesh. Then I found the man who was to drive you, and plied him so well
with liquor that he was unable to perform his duty. My object was to delay your
journey until the evening, because I knew that I could ensure your escape in
the dark. You have seen how well my plans have succeeded, because you are now free.'
    "You may suppose that I thanked my kind deliverer
most sincerely for all he had done to serve me. He, however, cut me short in my
expressions of gratitude, by saying, 'What are you going to do? If you will
join us, you will be assured of your daily food, and will be more or less
protected from danger. My father has a van, in which you can at any time hide
when concealment is necessary; and we will do all we can to serve you, for I
still consider myself to be indebted to you on account of your generous conduct
of this morning. I could have borne punishment myself; but the idea of my wife
being plunged into such misery — no, never — never!'
    "I accepted the welcome offers of Morcar, and that
very night was conducted to the encampment where his father and mother had
taken up their quarters. Eva presented her son to me, saying, 'You have
preserved for this little one a father and mother: henceforth the Zingarees
will know thee as a friend!' From that moment I have lived with the gipsies
until the present time; and, though some years have passed away since I first
joined them, I have not yet become weary of our wandering mode of
existence."

THE PALACE IN THE HOLY LAND

    THE wanderer amidst the crowded
thoroughfares of the multitudinous metropolis cannot be unacquainted with that
assemblage of densely populated streets and lanes which is situate between High
Street (St. Giles's) and Great Russell Street (Bloomsbury).
    The district alluded to is called the Holy Land.
    There poverty hides its head through shame, and crime
lurks concealed through fear; — there everything that is squalid,
hideous, debauched, and immoral, makes its dwelling — there woman is
as far removed from the angel as Satan is from the Godhead, and man is as closely
allied to the brute as the idiot is to the baboon; — there days are
spent in idleness, and nights in dissipation; — there no refinement
of habit or of speech is known, but male and female alike wallow in obscene
debauchery and filthy ideas; — there garments are patched with pieces
of various dyes, and language is disfigured with words of a revolting
slang; — there the natural ruffianism and brutal instincts of the
human heart are unrepressed by social ties or conventional decencies; — there
infamy is no disgrace, crime no reproach, vice no stain.
    Such is the Holy Land.
    In a dark and gloomy alley, connecting two of the
longer streets in this districts stood a large house four storeys high, and
with windows of such narrow dimensions that they seemed intended to admit the
light of day only by small instalments.
    Four steep stone steps, each only about six inches
broad, led to the front door, which always stood open during the day-time.
    This front-door gave admittance into a small square
compartment, which was denominated "the lobby," and from which a
second door opened into the house.
    The inner door just alluded to was kept constantly
shut, save when admittance was demanded by any one who had the right of entry
into the habitation.. But even that admittance was never granted without
precaution. In the ceiling of the little hall or lobby described, there was a
small trap-door, let into the floor of the room above; and by these means the
sentinel on duty up-stairs was enabled to reconnoiter every one who knocked at
the inner door.
    The interior of the house resembled a small barrack.
The apartments on the ground floor were used as day-rooms or refectories, and
were fitted up with long table and forms. The floors were strewed with sand;
and the appearance of the place was more cleanly and comfortable than might
have been expected in such a neighbourhood. The lower panes of the windows were
smeared with a whitewash, which prevented passers-by from peering from the
street into the apartments.
    The upper storeys were all used as dormitories, some
being allotted to the male and others to the female inmates of the house. These
rooms were furnished with mattresses, blankets, and coverlids; but there were
no bedsteads. The aspect of the dormitories was as cleanly as that of the
day-rooms.
    To the ceiling over the landing-place of the second
floor was hung a large bell, to the wheel of which were attached numerous
ropes, which branched off, through holes in the walls and floors, in all
directions, so that an alarm could be rung from every room in that spacious
tenement.
    Behind the house there was a large yard, surrounded by
the dead walls which formed the sides of other buildings; thus, in no way, was
the dwelling which we have described, overlooked by the neighbours. At the
bottom of the yard was a door opening into a court which communicated with
another street; and thus a convenient mode of egress was secured to any one who
might find it prudent to beat a precipitate retreat from the house.
    We have now endeavoured to furnish the reader with an
idea of King Zingary's Palace in the Holy Land.
    In order to complete the description, it only remains
for us to state that the various precautions to which we have alluded, in connexion
with the Palace, were adopted for the protection and safety of those inmates
who, either in the course of their avocations or otherwise, might happen to
render themselves obnoxious to the myrmidons of the law. Not that the pursuits
of the subjects of King Zingary necessarily comprised practices which rendered
their headquarters liable to constant visits from the police: but persons
accustomed to a vagabond kind of existence, could not be otherwise than often
tempted into lawless courses; and his Majesty did not dare disown or discard a
dependent who thus became involved in danger. Moreover, the protection of the
gipsies was frequently accorded to persons who rendered them a service, or who
could pay for such succour, as in the respective cases of Skilligalee and the Rattlesnake:
or it was not unusually granted upon motives of humanity, as in reference to
the man called the Traveller. This intercourse with characters of all
descriptions was another reason for the adoption of precautionary measures at
the Palace; but seldom — very seldom was it that the necessity of
those measures was justified by events, the police being well aware that no
good ever resulted from a visit to the royal mansion in the Holy Land.
    It was ten o'clock at night; and the king of the gipsies
was presiding at the banqueting-table in his palace.
    Upwards of sixty gipsies, male and female, were
assembled round the board. These consisted of the chiefs of the different
districts into which the gipsy kingdom was divided, with their wives and daughters.
    Skilligalee, the Rattlesnake, and the Traveller were
also seated at the table, and were honoured as the king's guests.
    The meal was over; and the board was covered with
bottles containing various descriptions of liquor, drinking mugs, pipes, and
tobacco.
    With all the solemn gravity of a chairman at a public
dinner, Zingary rapped his knuckles upon the table, and commanded those present
to fill their glasses.
    The order was obeyed by both men and women; end the
king then spoke as follows: — 
    "Most loyal and dutiful friends, this is the
hundred and thirty-first anniversary of the institution of that custom in
virtue of which the provincial rulers of the united races of Egyptians and
Bohemians in England assemble together once every year at the Palace. A hundred
and thirty-one years ago, this house warn purchased by my grandfather King
Sisman, and bequeathed to his descendants to serve as the head-quarters and
central point of our administration. There is scarcely an individual of the united
races who has not experienced the hospitality of this Palace. Every worthy
Zingaree who visits the metropolis enjoys his bed and his board without fee and
without price for seven days in our mansion, the superintendence of which is so
ably conducted, while we are absent, by our brother on my right." Here the
king glanced towards a venerable-looking gipsy who sate next to him. "In
his hands our treasures are safe; and to-morrow he will place before you an
account of the remittances he has received from the provincial districts, and
the expenditures he has made in the maintenance of this establishment. You will
find, I have reason to believe, a considerable balance in our favour. Let us
then celebrate with a bumper the hundred and thirty-first anniversary of the
opening of our royal palace!"
    This toast was drunk without noise — without
hurrahs — without clamour, — but not the less sincerely on
that account.
    "My pretty Eva," said the king, after a
pause, "will now oblige us with a song?"
    Zingary's daughter-in-law did not require to be pressed
to exhibit her vocal powers; but in a sweet voice she sang the following air
    
    THE GIPSY'S HOME.
    
    Oh! who is so blythe, and happy, and free
    As the ever-wandering Zingaree?
    'Tis his a his own wild will to roam;
    And in each fair scene does he find a
home, — 
    Does he find a home!
    
    The sunny slope, or the shady grove,
    Where nightingales sing and lovers rove;
    The fields where the golden harvests wave,
    And the verdant bank which the streamlets lave,
    Are by turns his home.
    
    The busy town with its selfish crowd.
    The city where dwell the great and proud,
    The haunts of the mighty multitude,
    Where the strong are raised and the weak subdued,
    Are to him no home.
    
    Oh! ever happy — and ever free,
    Who is so blest as the Zingaree? — 
    Where nature puts on her gayest vest,
    Where flowers are sweetest and fruits are best,
    Oh! there is his home.
    
    "Thank you, sweet Eva," said the king, when
the gipsy woman had concluded her song, in the chorus of which the other
females had joined in a low and subdued tone. "Ours is indeed a happy
life," continued Zingary. "When roving over the broad country, we
enjoy a freedom unknown to the rest of the world. No impost or taxes have we
then to pay: we drink of the stream at pleasure, and never feel alarmed lest
our water should be cut off. We can choose pleasant paths, and yet pay no
paving-rate. The sun lights us by day, and the stars by night; and no one comes
to remind us that we owe two quarters' gas. We pitch our tents where we will,
but are not afraid of a ground-landlord. We do not look forward with fear and
trembling to Lady-day or Michaelmas, for the broker cannot distress us. We move
where we like, without dreading an accusation of
 
shooting the moon
. In fine, we are as free and
independent as the inhabitants of the desert. A health, then, to the united
races of Zingarees!"
    This toast was drunk in silence, like the former; and
the king then called upon the pretty dark-eyed daughter of one of the chiefs to
favour the company with a song.
    The request was complied with in the following
manner: — 
    
    "COME HITHER, FAIR MAIDEN."
    
    Come hither, fair maiden! and listen to me,
    I've a store of good tidings to tell unto
thee — 
    Bright hopes to call smiles to those sweet lips of
thine,
    And visions of bliss little short of divine.
    
    Come hither, fair maiden! the poor Zingaree
    Hath promise of love and of fortune for thee:
    Away from the future the dark cloud shall fly,
    And years yet unborn be revealed to thine eye.
    
    Come hither, fair maiden! no more shalt thou be
    Alarmed lest the fates act unkindly to
thee; — 
    The planet that governed the hour of thy birth
    Shall guide thee to all the fair spots of the earth!
    
    Come hither, fair maiden! futurity's sea
    Shall roll on no longer unfathomed by thee;
    With me canst thou plunge in its dark depths, and know
    How rich are the pearls that Hope treasures below
    
    In this manner did the gipsies pass the evening, until
the clock struck eleven, when they separated to their dormitories.
    The Rattlesnake was astonished to observe the order and
regularity which prevailed with the strange association amongst which accident
had thrown her. The festival had passed without noise and without intemperance;
the presence of the king and queen seemed alone sufficient to maintain
tranquillity and prevent enjoyment from passing the barriers of propriety.
    We need not, however, linger upon this portion of our
tale. Suffice it to say that a fortnight glided away, during which the king of
the gipsies was detained in the metropolis by the business which he had to
transact with his chiefs. The Rattlesnake did not venture out of the house; and
Skilligalee was her constant companion.
    The Traveller meantime disguised himself in a manner
which would have defied the penetrating eyes of even a parent, had he met his
own mother; and from morning until evening did he prowl about London, in search
of the one individual against whom he nourished the most terrible hatred. But,
every evening, when he returned home to the Gipsy Palace, his countenance was
more gloomy and his brow more lowering; and, if questioned relative to the
causes of his rage or grief, he replied in a savage tone, "Another day is
gone — and he still lives: but I will never rest until I trace him
out."
    And then he would grind his teeth like a hyena.