Chapter ii.

Containing the arrival of an Irish gentleman, with very extraordinary

adventures which ensued at the inn.

Now the little trembling hare, which the dread of all her numerous

enemies, and chiefly of that cunning, cruel, carnivorous animal, man,

had confined all the day to her lurking-place, sports wantonly o'er

the lawns; now on some hollow tree the owl, shrill chorister of the

night, hoots forth notes which might charm the ears of some modern

connoisseurs in music; now, in the imagination of the half-drunk

clown, as he staggers through the churchyard, or rather charnelyard,

to his home, fear paints the bloody hobgoblin; now thieves and

ruffians are awake, and honest watchmen fast asleep; in plain English,

it was now midnight; and the company at the inn, as well those who

have been already mentioned in this history, as some others who

arrived in the evening, were all in bed. Only Susan Chambermaid was

now stirring, she being obliged to wash the kitchen before she retired

to the arms of the fond expecting hostler.

In this posture were affairs at the inn when a gentleman arrived there

post. He immediately alighted from his horse, and, coming up to Susan,

enquired of her, in a very abrupt and confused manner, being almost

out of breath with eagerness, Whether there was any lady in the house?

The hour of night, and the behaviour of the man, who stared very

wildly all the time, a little surprized Susan, so that she hesitated

before she made any answer; upon which the gentleman, with redoubled

eagerness, begged her to give him a true information, saying, He had

lost his wife, and was come in pursuit of her. “Upon my shoul,” cries

he, “I have been near catching her already in two or three places, if

I had not found her gone just as I came up with her. If she be in the

house, do carry me up in the dark and show her to me; and if she be

gone away before me, do tell me which way I shall go after her to meet

her, and, upon my shoul, I will make you the richest poor woman in the

nation.” He then pulled out a handful of guineas, a sight which would

have bribed persons of much greater consequence than this poor wench

to much worse purposes.

Susan, from the account she had received of Mrs Waters, made not the

least doubt but that she was the very identical stray whom the right

owner pursued. As she concluded, therefore, with great appearance of

reason, that she never could get money in an honester way than by

restoring a wife to her husband, she made no scruple of assuring the

gentleman that the lady he wanted was then in the house; and was

presently afterwards prevailed upon (by very liberal promises, and

some earnest paid into her hands) to conduct him to the bedchamber of

Mrs Waters.

It hath been a custom long established in the polite world, and that

upon very solid and substantial reasons, that a husband shall never

enter his wife's apartment without first knocking at the door. The

many excellent uses of this custom need scarce be hinted to a reader

who hath any knowledge of the world; for by this means the lady hath

time to adjust herself, or to remove any disagreeable object out of

the way; for there are some situations in which nice and delicate

women would not be discovered by their husbands.

To say the truth, there are several ceremonies instituted among the

polished part of mankind, which, though they may, to coarser

judgments, appear as matters of mere form, are found to have much of

substance in them, by the more discerning; and lucky would it have

been had the custom above mentioned been observed by our gentleman in

the present instance. Knock, indeed, he did at the door, but not with

one of those gentle raps which is usual on such occasions. On the

contrary, when he found the door locked, he flew at it with such

violence, that the lock immediately gave way, the door burst open, and

he fell headlong into the room.

He had no sooner recovered his legs than forth from the bed, upon his

legs likewise, appeared--with shame and sorrow are we obliged to

proceed--our heroe himself, who, with a menacing voice, demanded of

the gentleman who he was, and what he meant by daring to burst open

his chamber in that outrageous manner.

The gentleman at first thought he had committed a mistake, and was

going to ask pardon and retreat, when, on a sudden, as the moon shone

very bright, he cast his eyes on stays, gowns, petticoats, caps,

ribbons, stockings, garters, shoes, clogs, &c., all which lay in a

disordered manner on the floor. All these, operating on the natural

jealousy of his temper, so enraged him, that he lost all power of

speech; and, without returning any answer to Jones, he endeavoured to

approach the bed.

Jones immediately interposing, a fierce contention arose, which soon

proceeded to blows on both sides. And now Mrs Waters (for we must

confess she was in the same bed), being, I suppose, awakened from her

sleep, and seeing two men fighting in her bedchamber, began to scream

in the most violent manner, crying out murder! robbery! and more

frequently rape! which last, some, perhaps, may wonder she should

mention, who do not consider that these words of exclamation are used

by ladies in a fright, as fa, la, la, ra, da, &c., are in music, only

as the vehicles of sound, and without any fixed ideas.

Next to the lady's chamber was deposited the body of an Irish

gentleman who arrived too late at the inn to have been mentioned

before. This gentleman was one of those whom the Irish call a

calabalaro, or cavalier. He was a younger brother of a good family,

and, having no fortune at home, was obliged to look abroad in order to

get one; for which purpose he was proceeding to the Bath, to try his

luck with cards and the women.

This young fellow lay in bed reading one of Mrs Behn's novels; for he

had been instructed by a friend that he would find no more effectual

method of recommending himself to the ladies than the improving his

understanding, and filling his mind with good literature. He no

sooner, therefore, heard the violent uproar in the next room, than he

leapt from his bolster, and, taking his sword in one hand, and the

candle which burnt by him in the other, he went directly to Mrs

Waters's chamber.

If the sight of another man in his shirt at first added some shock to

the decency of the lady, it made her presently amends by considerably

abating her fears; for no sooner had the calabalaro entered the room

than he cried out, “Mr Fitzpatrick, what the devil is the maning of

this?” Upon which the other immediately answered, “O, Mr Maclachlan! I

am rejoiced you are here.--This villain hath debauched my wife, and is

got into bed with her.”--“What wife?” cries Maclachlan; “do not I know

Mrs Fitzpatrick very well, and don't I see that the lady, whom the

gentleman who stands here in his shirt is lying in bed with, is none

of her?”

Fitzpatrick, now perceiving, as well by the glimpse he had of the

lady, as by her voice, which might have been distinguished at a

greater distance than he now stood from her, that he had made a very

unfortunate mistake, began to ask many pardons of the lady; and then,

turning to Jones, he said, “I would have you take notice I do not ask

your pardon, for you have bate me; for which I am resolved to have

your blood in the morning.”

Jones treated this menace with much contempt; and Mr Maclachlan

answered, “Indeed, Mr Fitzpatrick, you may be ashamed of your own

self, to disturb people at this time of night; if all the people in

the inn were not asleep, you would have awakened them as you have me.

The gentleman has served you very rightly. Upon my conscience, though

I have no wife, if you had treated her so, I would have cut your

throat.”

Jones was so confounded with his fears for his lady's reputation, that

he knew neither what to say or do; but the invention of women is, as

hath been observed, much readier than that of men. She recollected

that there was a communication between her chamber and that of Mr

Jones; relying, therefore, on his honour and her own assurance, she

answered, “I know not what you mean, villains! I am wife to none of

you. Help! Rape! Murder! Rape!”--And now, the landlady coming into the

room, Mrs Waters fell upon her with the utmost virulence, saying, “She

thought herself in a sober inn, and not in a bawdy-house; but that a

set of villains had broke into her room, with an intent upon her

honour, if not upon her life; and both, she said, were equally dear to

her.”

The landlady now began to roar as loudly as the poor woman in bed had

done before. She cried, “She was undone, and that the reputation of

her house, which was never blown upon before, was utterly destroyed.”

Then, turning to the men, she cried, “What, in the devil's name, is

the reason of all this disturbance in the lady's room?” Fitzpatrick,

hanging down his head, repeated, “That he had committed a mistake, for

which he heartily asked pardon,” and then retired with his countryman.

Jones, who was too ingenious to have missed the hint given him by his

fair one, boldly asserted, “That he had run to her assistance upon

hearing the door broke open, with what design he could not conceive,

unless of robbing the lady; which, if they intended, he said, he had

the good fortune to prevent.” “I never had a robbery committed in my

house since I have kept it,” cries the landlady; “I would have you to

know, sir, I harbour no highwaymen here; I scorn the word, thof I say

it. None but honest, good gentlefolks, are welcome to my house; and, I

thank good luck, I have always had enow of such customers; indeed as

many as I could entertain. Here hath been my lord--,” and then she

repeated over a catalogue of names and titles, many of which we might,

perhaps, be guilty of a breach of privilege by inserting.

Jones, after much patience, at length interrupted her, by making an

apology to Mrs Waters, for having appeared before her in his shirt,

assuring her “That nothing but a concern for her safety could have

prevailed on him to do it.” The reader may inform himself of her

answer, and, indeed, of her whole behaviour to the end of the scene,

by considering the situation which she affected, it being that of a

modest lady, who was awakened out of her sleep by three strange men in

her chamber. This was the part which she undertook to perform; and,

indeed, she executed it so well, that none of our theatrical actresses

could exceed her, in any of their performances, either on or off the

stage.

And hence, I think, we may very fairly draw an argument, to prove how

extremely natural virtue is to the fair sex; for, though there is not,

perhaps, one in ten thousand who is capable of making a good actress,

and even among these we rarely see two who are equally able to

personate the same character, yet this of virtue they can all

admirably well put on; and as well those individuals who have it not,

as those who possess it, can all act it to the utmost degree of

perfection.

When the men were all departed, Mrs Waters, recovering from her fear,

recovered likewise from her anger, and spoke in much gentler accents

to the landlady, who did not so readily quit her concern for the

reputation of the house, in favour of which she began again to number

the many great persons who had slept under her roof; but the lady

stopt her short, and having absolutely acquitted her of having had any

share in the past disturbance, begged to be left to her repose, which,

she said, she hoped to enjoy unmolested during the remainder of the

night. Upon which the landlady, after much civility and many

courtsies, took her leave.