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_ Chapter II - What happened at the masquerade.
From this time to the day of the masquerade nothing happened of
consequence enough to have a place in this history.
On that day Colonel James came to Booth's about nine in the evening,
where he stayed for Mrs. James, who did not come till near eleven. The
four masques then set out together in several chairs, and all
proceeded to the Haymarket.
When they arrived at the Opera-house the colonel and Mrs. James
presently left them; nor did Booth and his lady remain long together,
but were soon divided from each other by different masques.
A domino soon accosted the lady, and had her away to the upper end of
the farthest room on the right hand, where both the masques sat down;
nor was it long before the he domino began to make very fervent love
to the she. It would, perhaps, be tedious to the reader to run through
the whole process, which was not indeed in the most romantick stile.
The lover seemed to consider his mistress as a mere woman of this
world, and seemed rather to apply to her avarice and ambition than to
her softer passions.
As he was not so careful to conceal his true voice as the lady was,
she soon discovered that this lover of her's was no other than her old
friend the peer, and presently a thought suggested itself to her of
making an advantage of this accident. She gave him therefore an
intimation that she knew him, and expressed some astonishment at his
having found her out. "I suspect," says she, "my lord, that you have a
friend in the woman where I now lodge, as well as you had in Mrs.
Ellison." My lord protested the contrary. To which she answered, "Nay,
my lord, do not defend her so earnestly till you are sure I should
have been angry with her."
At these words, which were accompanied with a very bewitching
softness, my lord flew into raptures rather too strong for the place
he was in. These the lady gently checked, and begged him to take care
they were not observed; for that her husband, for aught she knew, was
then in the room.
Colonel James came now up, and said, "So, madam, I have the good
fortune to find you again; I have been extremely miserable since I
lost you." The lady answered in her masquerade voice that she did not
know him. "I am Colonel James," said he, in a whisper. "Indeed, sir,"
answered she, "you are mistaken; I have no acquaintance with any
Colonel James." "Madam," answered he, in a whisper likewise, "I am
positive I am not mistaken, you are certainly Mrs. Booth." "Indeed,
sir," said she, "you are very impertinent, and I beg you will leave
me." My lord then interposed, and, speaking in his own voice, assured
the colonel that the lady was a woman of quality, and that they were
engaged in a conversation together; upon which the colonel asked the
lady's pardon; for, as there was nothing remarkable in her dress, he
really believed he had been mistaken.
He then went again a hunting through the rooms, and soon after found
Booth walking without his mask between two ladies, one of whom was in
a blue domino, and the other in the dress of a shepherdess. "Will,"
cries the colonel, "do you know what is become of our wives; for I
have seen neither of them since we have been in the room?" Booth
answered, "That he supposed they were both together, and they should
find them by and by." "What!" cries the lady in the blue domino, "are
you both come upon duty then with your wives? as for yours, Mr.
Alderman," said she to the colonel, "I make no question but she is got
into much better company than her husband's." "How can you be so
cruel, madam?" said the shepherdess; "you will make him beat his wife
by and by, for he is a military man I assure you." "In the trained
bands, I presume," cries the domino, "for he is plainly dated from the
city." "I own, indeed," cries the other, "the gentleman smells
strongly of Thames-street, and, if I may venture to guess, of the
honourable calling of a taylor."
"Why, what the devil hast thou picked up here?" cries James.
"Upon my soul, I don't know," answered Booth; "I wish you would take
one of them at least."
"What say you, madam?" cries the domino, "will you go with the
colonel? I assure you, you have mistaken your man, for he is no less a
person than the great Colonel James himself."
[Illustration: Booth between the blue domino and a Shepherdess.]
"No wonder, then, that Mr. Booth gives him his choice of us; it is the
proper office of a caterer, in which capacity Mr. Booth hath, I am
told, the honour to serve the noble colonel."
"Much good may it do you with your ladies!" said James; "I will go in
pursuit of better game." At which words he walked off.
"You are a true sportsman," cries the shepherdess; "for your only
pleasure, I believe, lies in the pursuit."
"Do you know the gentleman, madam?" cries the domino.
"Who doth not know him?" answered the shepherdess.
"What is his character?" cries the domino; "for, though I have jested
with him, I only know him by sight."
"I know nothing very particular in his character," cries the
shepherdess. "He gets every handsome woman he can, and so they do
all."
"I suppose then he is not married?" said the domino.
"O yes! and married for love too," answered the other; "but he hath
loved away all his love for her long ago, and now, he says, she makes
as fine an object of hatred. I think, if the fellow ever appears to
have any wit, it is when he abuses his wife; and, luckily for him,
that is his favourite topic. I don't know the poor wretch, but, as he
describes her, it is a miserable animal."
"I know her very well," cries the other; "and I am much mistaken if
she is not even with him; but hang him! what is become of Booth?"
At this instant a great noise arose near that part where the two
ladies were. This was occasioned by a large assembly of young fellows
whom they call bucks, who were got together, and were enjoying, as the
phrase is, a letter, which one of them had found in the room.
Curiosity hath its votaries among all ranks of people; whenever
therefore an object of this appears it is as sure of attracting a
croud in the assemblies of the polite as in those of their inferiors.
When this croud was gathered together, one of the bucks, at the desire
of his companions, as well as of all present, performed the part of a
public orator, and read out the following letter, which we shall give
the reader, together with the comments of the orator himself, and of
all his audience.
The orator then, being mounted on a bench, began as follows:
"Here beginneth the first chapter of--saint--Pox on't, Jack, what is
the saint's name? I have forgot."
"Timothy, you blockhead," answered another; "--Timothy."
"Well, then," cries the orator, "of Saint Timothy.
"'SIR,--I am very sorry to have any occasion of writing on the
following subject in a country that is honoured with the name of
Christian; much more am I concerned to address myself to a man whose
many advantages, derived both from nature and fortune, should demand
the highest return of gratitude to the great Giver of all those good
things. Is not such a man guilty of the highest ingratitude to that
most beneficent Being, by a direct and avowed disobedience of his most
positive laws and commands?
"'I need not tell you that adultery is forbid in the laws of the
decalogue; nor need I, I hope, mention that it is expressly forbid in
the New Testament.'
"You see, therefore," said the orator, "what the law is, and therefore
none of you will be able to plead ignorance when you come to the Old
Bailey in the other world. But here goes again:--
"'If it had not been so expressly forbidden in Scripture, still the
law of Nature would have yielded light enough for us to have
discovered the great horror and atrociousness of this crime.
"'And accordingly we find that nations, where the Sun of righteousness
hath yet never shined, have punished the adulterer with the most
exemplary pains and penalties; not only the polite heathens, but the
most barbarous nations, have concurred in these; in many places the
most severe and shameful corporal punishments, and in some, and those
not a few, death itself hath been inflicted on this crime.
"'And sure in a human sense there is scarce any guilt which deserves
to be more severely punished. It includes in it almost every injury
and every mischief which one man can do to, or can bring on, another.
It is robbing him of his property--'
"Mind that, ladies," said the orator;" you are all the property of
your husbands.--'And of that property which, if he is a good man, he
values above all others. It is poisoning that fountain whence he hath
a right to derive the sweetest and most innocent pleasure, the most
cordial comfort, the most solid friendship, and most faithful
assistance in all his affairs, wants, and distresses. It is the
destruction of his peace of mind, and even of his reputation. The ruin
of both wife and husband, and sometimes of the whole family, are the
probable consequence of this fatal injury. Domestic happiness is the
end of almost all our pursuits, and the common reward of all our
pains. When men find themselves for ever barred from this delightful
fruition, they are lost to all industry, and grow careless of all
their worldly affairs. Thus they become bad subjects, bad relations,
bad friends, and bad men. Hatred and revenge are the wretched passions
which boil in their minds. Despair and madness very commonly ensue,
and murder and suicide often close the dreadful scene.'
"Thus, gentlemen and ladies, you see the scene is closed. So here ends
the first act--and thus begins the second:--
"'I have here attempted to lay before you a picture of this vice, the
horror of which no colours of mine can exaggerate. But what pencil can
delineate the horrors of that punishment which the Scripture denounces
against it?
"'And for what will you subject yourself to this punishment? or for
what reward will you inflict all this misery on another? I will add,
on your friend? for the possession of a woman; for the pleasure of a
moment? But, if neither virtue nor religion can restrain your
inordinate appetites, are there not many women as handsome as your
friend's wife, whom, though not with innocence, you may possess with a
much less degree of guilt? What motive then can thus hurry you on to
the destruction of yourself and your friend? doth the peculiar
rankness of the guilt add any zest to the sin? doth it enhance the
pleasure as much as we may be assured it will the punishment?
"'But if you can be so lost to all sense of fear, and of shame, and of
goodness, as not to be debarred by the evil which you are to bring on
yourself, by the extreme baseness of the action, nor by the ruin in
which you are to involve others, let me still urge the difficulty, I
may say, the impossibility of the success. You are attacking a
fortress on a rock; a chastity so strongly defended, as well by a
happy natural disposition of mind as by the strongest principles of
religion and virtue, implanted by education and nourished and improved
by habit, that the woman must be invincible even without that firm and
constant affection of her husband which would guard a much looser and
worse-disposed heart. What therefore are you attempting but to
introduce distrust, and perhaps disunion, between an innocent and a
happy couple, in which too you cannot succeed without bringing, I am
convinced, certain destruction on your own head?
"'Desist, therefore, let me advise you, from this enormous crime;
retreat from the vain attempt of climbing a precipice which it is
impossible you should ever ascend, where you must probably soon fall
into utter perdition, and can have no other hope but of dragging down
your best friend into perdition with you.
"'I can think of but one argument more, and that, indeed, a very bad
one; you throw away that time in an impossible attempt, which might,
in other places, crown your sinful endeavours with success.'
"And so ends the dismal ditty."
"D--n me," cries one, "did ever mortal hear such d--ned stuff?"
"Upon my soul," said another, "I like the last argument well enough.
There is some sense in that; for d--n me if I had not rather go to D--
g--ss at any time than follow a virtuous b---- for a fortnight."
"Tom," says one of them, "let us set the ditty to music; let us
subscribe to have it set by Handel; it will make an excellent
oratorio."
"D--n me, Jack," says another, "we'll have it set to a psalm-tune, and
we'll sing it next Sunday at St James's church, and I'll bear a bob,
d--n me."
"Fie upon it! gentlemen, fie upon it!" said a frier, who came up; "do
you think there is any wit and humour in this ribaldry; or, if there
were, would it make any atonement for abusing religion and virtue?"
"Heyday!" cries one, "this is a frier in good earnest."
"Whatever I am," said the frier, "I hope at least you are what you
appear to be. Heaven forbid, for the sake of our posterity, that you
should be gentlemen."
"Jack," cries one, "let us toss the frier in a blanket."
"Me in a blanket?" said the frier: "by the dignity of man, I will
twist the neck of every one of you as sure as ever the neck of a
dunghill-cock was twisted." At which words he pulled off his mask, and
the tremendous majesty of Colonel Bath appeared, from which the bucks
fled away as fast as the Trojans heretofore from the face of Achilles.
The colonel did not think it worth while to pursue any other of them
except him who had the letter in his hand, which the colonel desired
to see, and the other delivered, saying it was very much at his
service.
The colonel being possessed of the letter, retired as privately as he
could, in order to give it a careful perusal; for, badly as it had
been read by the orator, there were some passages in it which had
pleased the colonel. He had just gone through it when Booth passed by
him; upon which the colonel called to him, and, delivering him the
letter, bid him put it in his pocket and read it at his leisure. He
made many encomiums upon it, and told Booth it would be of service to
him, and was proper for all young men to read.
Booth had not yet seen his wife; but, as he concluded she was safe
with Mrs. James, he was not uneasy. He had been prevented searching
farther after her by the lady in the blue domino, who had joined him
again. Booth had now made these discoveries: that the lady was pretty
well acquainted with him, that she was a woman of fashion, and that
she had a particular regard for him. But, though he was a gay man, he
was in reality so fond of his Amelia, that he thought of no other
woman; wherefore, though not absolutely a Joseph, as we have already
seen, yet could he not be guilty of premeditated inconstancy. He was
indeed so very cold and insensible to the hints which were given him,
that the lady began to complain of his dullness. When the shepherdess
again came up and heard this accusation against him, she confirmed it,
saying, "I do assure you, madam, he is the dullest fellow in the
world. Indeed, I should almost take you for his wife, by finding you a
second time with him; for I do assure you the gentleman very seldom
keeps any other company." "Are you so well acquainted with him,
madam?" said the domino. "I have had that honour longer than your
ladyship, I believe," answered the shepherdess. "Possibly you may,
madam," cries the domino; "but I wish you would not interrupt us at
present, for we have some business together." "I believe, madam,"
answered the shepherdess, "my business with the gentleman is
altogether as important as yours; and therefore your ladyship may
withdraw if you please." "My dear ladies," cries Booth, "I beg you
will not quarrel about me." "Not at all," answered the domino; "since
you are so indifferent, I resign my pretensions with all my heart. If
you had not been the dullest fellow upon earth, I am convinced you
must have discovered me." She then went off, muttering to herself that
she was satisfied the shepherdess was some wretched creature whom
nobody knew.
The shepherdess overheard the sarcasm, and answered it by asking Booth
what contemptible wretch he had picked up? "Indeed, madam," said he,
"you know as much of her as I do; she is a masquerade acquaintance
like yourself." "Like me!" repeated she. "Do you think if this had
been our first acquaintance I should have wasted so much time with you
as I have? for your part, indeed, I believe a woman will get very
little advantage by her having been formerly intimate with you." "I do
not know, madam," said Booth, "that I deserve that character any more
than I know the person that now gives it me." "And you have the
assurance then," said she, in her own voice, "to affect not to
remember me?" "I think," cries Booth, "I have heard that voice before;
but, upon my soul, I do not recollect it." "Do you recollect," said
she, "no woman that you have used with the highest barbarity--I will
not say ingratitude?" "No, upon my honour," answered Booth. "Mention
not honour," said she, "thou wretch! for, hardened as thou art, I
could shew thee a face that, in spite of thy consummate impudence,
would confound thee with shame and horrour. Dost thou not yet know
me?" "I do, madam, indeed," answered Booth, "and I confess that of all
women in the world you have the most reason for what you said."
Here a long dialogue ensued between the gentleman and the lady, whom,
I suppose, I need not mention to have been Miss Matthews; but, as it
consisted chiefly of violent upbraidings on her side, and excuses on
his, I despair of making it entertaining to the reader, and shall
therefore return to the colonel, who, having searched all the rooms
with the utmost diligence, without finding the woman he looked for,
began to suspect that he had before fixed on the right person, and
that Amelia had denied herself to him, being pleased with her
paramour, whom he had discovered to be the noble peer.
He resolved, therefore, as he could have no sport himself, to spoil
that of others; accordingly he found out Booth, and asked him again
what was become of both their wives; for that he had searched all over
the rooms, and could find neither of them.
Booth was now a little alarmed at this account, and, parting with Miss
Matthews, went along with the colonel in search of his wife. As for
Miss Matthews, he had at length pacified her with a promise to make
her a visit; which promise she extorted from him, swearing bitterly,
in the most solemn manner, unless he made it to her, she would expose
both him and herself at the masquerade.
As he knew the violence of the lady's passions, and to what heights
they were capable of rising, he was obliged to come in to these terms:
for he had, I am convinced, no fear upon earth equal to that of
Amelia's knowing what it was in the power of Miss Matthews to
communicate to her, and which to conceal from her, he had already
undergone so much uneasiness.
The colonel led Booth directly to the place where he had seen the peer
and Amelia (such he was now well convinced she was) sitting together.
Booth no sooner saw her than he said to the colonel, "Sure that is my
wife in conversation with that masque?" "I took her for your lady
myself," said the colonel; "but I found I was mistaken. Hark ye, that
is my Lord----, and I have seen that very lady with him all this
night."
This conversation past at a little distance, and out of the hearing of
the supposed Amelia; when Booth, looking stedfastly at the lady,
declared with an oath that he was positive the colonel was in the
right. She then beckoned to him with her fan; upon which he went
directly to her, and she asked him to go home, which he very readily
consented to. The peer then walked off: the colonel went in pursuit of
his wife, or of some other woman; and Booth and his lady returned in
two chairs to their lodgings. _
Read next: VOLUME III: BOOK X: CHAPTER III
Read previous: VOLUME III: BOOK X: CHAPTER I
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