United States or Moldova ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. All the party were greatly interested by Sheppard's history especially Figg, who laughed loud and long at the escape from the Condemned Hold. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell.
He took his eyes off her to look attentively round the room. Uncle Mo's sporting prints, prized records of ancient battles, caught his eye. "Ho that's it, is it?" said he, with a short nod of illumination, as though he had made a point as a cross-examiner. "That's where we are Figg and Broughton Corbet Spring?... That's your game, is it? Now the question is, where the devil do I come in?
There's a friend of Sir James a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures, his name I believe is Hogarth. Then, there's Mr. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives, which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. And, lastly, there's Mr. Figg, the noted prize-fighter, from the New Amphitheatre in Marylebone Fields."
"Do you tell me that folks marry and give in marriage within this dreadful place?" "Now and then, sir; and in the liberties and purlieus thereof with a proclivity that would astonish you; which, since I cannot hinder it, I sanctify. My name is Figg, sir Jonathan Figg; and my office, Chaplain of the Fleet."
may sound somewhat tame by the side of the glowing account given of him by his gallant biographer, who asserts that "there was a majesty shone in his countenance, and blazed in his actions, beyond all I ever saw;" but it may, possibly, convey a more accurate notion of his personal appearance. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day.
At the commencement of the combat the great Figg dealt a blow so tremendous at his opponent, that had it encountered the other's honest head, that comely noddle would have been shorn off as clean as the carving-knife chops the carrot.
"Odd's life!" cried Gay, in astonishment; "is this slight-made stripling Jack Sheppard? Why, I expected to see a man six foot high at the least, and as broad across the shoulders as our friend Figg. This is a mere boy. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. Pitt?" "There is no mistake, Sir," rejoined the prisoner, drawing himself up, "I am Jack Sheppard."
As for Mr. Figg himself, who was as good at backsword as at broadsword, at quarter-staff as at foil, and at fisticuffs as any one of them, to say nothing of his Cornish wrestling, I saw him once, and shall never forget him. There was a Majesty blazed in his countenance and shone in all his actions beyond all I ever beheld.
"How do you manage that, Mr. Figg?" asked Gay. "Thus," replied the prize-fighter. "Proclaim a public fight. Challenge accepted. Fifty pupils. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt. Fifty sent home. All superfine holland. Wear one on the stage on the following day. Cut to pieces slashed bloodied. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt. Offer to return it to each in private.
"Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. "Gentlemen, a little further off, if you please." Sheppard immediately complied with the painter's request; while Gay and Figg drew back on one side, and Hogarth on the other. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. "Jack Sheppard's face is well worth preserving."
Word Of The Day