SOME GENTLEMAN'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 159 



sions had, from time to time, been cast upon my character, that I 

 actually could not venture to come forward, even when clothed with 

 the best intention in the world that of furthering the ends of jus- 

 tice, without exposing myself in all sorts of ways. It occurred to me, 

 too, that Maria, having got rid of me for that, in plain English, was 

 without a doubt the objective point of Gruel's cold-blooded strategy 

 she would, on my writing to her from an outport, declaring my in- 

 ention of embarking for the new world, generously forward me a 

 few of the hundreds I had declined. This idea would have consoled 

 and borne me up under the infliction, but for one bugbear ; this was 

 Gruel's rhubarb-coloured coat. I detested, I loathed, I abhorred it. 

 Placed in juxtaposition with my vest, pantaloons, and cravat, it ren- 

 dered me ridiculous suspicious ; indeed two or three fellows looked 

 after me with a degree of insolence which I felt was venial, on ac- 

 count of the figure'l cut. I was not quite satisfied that Gruel would 

 not set my enemies on the track I had taken ; for it was impossible 

 to judge how far so accomplished a rascal meant to go. I therefore 

 determined, as I was already on Holborn-bridge, to turn to the 

 right, and shelter myself in the Fleet prison. Getting in front of 

 three gentlemen who walked arm in arm, I shot into the gateway 

 under their cover, and as a visitor, of course obtained immediate 

 admittance. That part of the ground immediately adjacent to the 

 butcher's stall was occupied by a dense crowd, into the very centre of 

 which I naturally plunged. Round a table covered with sheets of 

 foolscap, pots, pipes, &c. sat eight or ten pimple-faced people, 

 glaringly the half-and-half attornies of the place. A contested elec- 

 tion was going on for the post of racket-master, and our friends in 

 pimples were the poll-clerks. There were three candidates a bro- 

 ken major-general ; a greasy, flashy, cigar-smoking, handsome young 

 doctor of divinity ; and a little Jew who kept one of the whistling 

 shops. The affair amused me. Squibs occasionally appeared, which 

 produced much laughter ; but being ignorant of the prison politics, 

 I could rarely appreciate their point. As the voters appeared, they 

 were received with cheers from the party they supported, and groans, 

 hisses, and personal abuse from the friends of the other candidates. It is 

 worthy of remark, that nine-tenths of the constituency were in slip- 

 pers, dressing-gowns, and military caps. These constitute the prison 

 costume, and distinguish in most, though certainly not in all cases, 

 the inmate from the visitor. As the period appointed for closing the 

 poll approached, the exertions of the candidates were redoubled ; it 

 seemed to be a neck-and-neck struggle, and the casting vote was at 

 length given in favour of the Jew, an instant before the clock struck, 

 by a patriarchal old Israelite, borne in his bed-clothes to the table, 

 when almost at his last gasp. The old fellow feebly joined in the 

 shout for Issachar's triumph, and was carried off fainting, doubt- 

 less to perform the last act of human existence. Issachar mounted 

 the table, and made a most grateful, pledging, and protesting speech. 

 He specially animadverted on the errors of those who had preceded 

 him in office; undertook to remedy all abuses to keep a sharp eye 

 on the coats of such gentlemen as thought proper to play in their 

 shirt-sleeves to be always at his post with an ample supply of balls 



