A Rogues Life | Page 9

my heel; and the prisoners near all
burst out laughing. Gentleman Jones, not in the least altered or ruffled,
smoothed down his wristbands, smiled, and walked away.
The same evening I was in my room alone, designing the new print,
when there came a knock at the door, and Gentleman Jones walked in. I
got up, and asked what the devil he wanted. He smiled, and turned up
his long wristbands.
"Only to give you a lesson in politeness," said Gentleman Jones.
"What do you mean, sir? How dare you--?"
The answer was a smart slap on the face. I instantly struck out in a state
of fury--was stopped with great neatness--and received in return a blow
on the head, which sent me down on the carpet half stunned, and too
giddy to know the difference between the floor and the ceiling.
"Sir," said Gentleman Jones, smoothing down his wristbands again, and
addressing me blandly as I lay on the floor, "I have the honor to inform
you that you have now received your first lesson in politeness. Always
be civil to those who are civil to you. The little matter of the caricature
we will settle on a future occasion. I wish you good-evening."
The noise of my fall had been heard by the other occupants of rooms on
my landing. Most fortunately for my dignity, they did not come in to
see what was the matter until I had been able to get into my chair again.
When they entered, I felt that the impression of the slap was red on my
face still, but the mark of the blow was hidden by my hair. Under these
fortunate circumstances, I was able to keep up my character among my
friends, when they inquired about the scuffle, by informing them that
Gentleman Jones had audaciously slapped my face, and that I had been
obliged to retaliate by knocking him down. My word in the prison was
as good as his; and if my version of the story got fairly the start of his, I
had the better chance of the two of being believed.
I was rather anxious, the next day, to know what course my polite and
pugilistic instructor would take. To my utter amazement, he bowed to

me as civilly as usual when we met in the yard; he never denied my
version of the story; and when my friends laughed at him as a thrashed
man, he took not the slightest notice of their agreeable merriment.
Antiquity, I think, furnishes us with few more remarkable characters
than Gentleman Jones.
That evening I thought it desirable to invite a friend to pass the time
with me. As long as my liquor lasted he stopped; when it was gone, he
went away. I was just locking the door after him, when it was pushed
open gently, but very firmly, and Gentleman Jones walked in.
My pride, which had not allowed me to apply for protection to the
prison authorities, would not allow me now to call for help. I tried to
get to the fireplace and arm myself with the poker, but Gentleman
Jones was too quick for me. "I have come, sir, to give you a lesson in
morality to-night," he said; and up went his right hand.
I stopped the preliminary slap, but before I could hit him, his terrible
left fist reached my head again; and down I fell once more--upon the
hearth-rug this time--not over-heavily.
"Sir," said Gentleman Jones, making me a bow, "you have now
received your first lesson in morality. Always speak the truth; and
never say what is false of another man behind his back. To-morrow,
with your kind permission, we will finally settle the adjourned question
of the caricature. Good-night."
I was far too sensible a man to leave the settling of that question to him.
The first thing in the morning I sent a polite note to Gentleman Jones,
informing him that I had abandoned all idea of exhibiting his likeness
to the public in my series of prints, and giving him full permission to
inspect every design I made before it went out of the prison. I received
a most civil answer, thanking me for my courtesy, and complimenting
me on the extraordinary aptitude with which I profited by the most
incomplete and elementary instruction. I thought I deserved the
compliment, and I think so still. Our conduct, as I have already
intimated, was honorable to us, on either side. It was honorable
attention on the part of Gentleman Jones to correct me when I was in

error; it was honorable common sense in me to profit by the correction.
I have never seen this great man since he compounded with his
creditors and got out of prison; but my