Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub
[ocr errors]

fleet, which was superior in force to the French, || I may say, that in escaping them I escaped being hanged.

It was the good fortune of the French that they overshot the port they aimed at, and in tending for the frith of Forth, or, as it is called, the frith of Edinburgh, the first land they made was as far north as a place called Montrose, where it was not their business to land, and so they were obliged to come back to the frith, and were gotten to the entrance of it, and came to an anchor for the tide; but this delay or hinderance gave time to the English, under Sir George Byng, to come to the frith, and they came to an anchor just as we did, only waiting to go up the frith with the flood.

Had we not overshot the port, as above, all our squadron had been destroyed in two days, and all we could have done had been to have gotten into the pier or haven at Leith, with the smaller frigates, and have landed the troops and ammunition; but we must have set fire to the men of war, for the English squadron was not above 24 hours behind us, or thereabouts.

Upon this surprise the French admiral set sail from the north point of the frith where we lay, and crowding away to the north, got the start of the English fleet, and made their escape with the || loss of one ship only, which being behind the rest, could not get away. When we were satisfied the English left chasing us, which was not till the third night, when we altered our course, and lost sight of them, we stood over to the coast of Norway, and keeping that shore on board all the way to the mouth of the Baltic, we came to an anchor again, and sent two scouts abroad to learn news, to see if the sea was clear, and being satisfied that the enemy did not chase us, we kept on with an easier sail, and came all back again to Dunkirk, and glad I was to set my foot on shore again; for all the while we were thus flying for our lives, I was under the greatest terror imaginable, and nothing but halters and gibbets run in my head, concluding that if I had been taken I should certainly have been hanged.

But the care was now over, I took my leave of the chevalier and of the army, and made haste to Paris: I came so unexpectedly to Paris, and to my own lodgings, that it was my misfortune to make a discovery relating to my wife which was not at all to my satisfaction; for I found her ladyship had kept some company that I had reason to believe were not such as an honest woman ought to have conversed with, and as I knew her temper, by what I had found of her myself, I grew very jealous and uneasy about her; I must own it touched me very nearly, for I began to have an extraordinary value for her, and her behaviour was very taking, especially after I had brought her into France; but having a vein of levity, it was impossible to prevent her running into such things in a town so full of what they call gallantry as Paris.

It vexed me also to think that it should be my fate to be a cuckold both abroad and at home, and sometimes I would be in such a rage about it that I had no government of myself when I thought of it; whole days, and, I may say, Sometimes whole nights, I spent musing and

considering what I should do to her, and especially what I should do to the villain, whoever he was, that had thus abused and supplanted me: here indeed I committed murder more than once, or indeed than a hundred times, in my imagination; and as the devil is certainly an apparent prompter to wickedness, if he is not the first mover of it in our minds, he seized me night and day, with proposals to kill my wife.

This horrid project he carried up so high, by raising fierce thoughts, and fomenting the blood upon my contemplation of the word cuckold, that, in short, I left debating whether I should murder her or no, as a thing out of the question and determined; and my thoughts were then taken up only with the management how I should kill her, and how to make my escape after I had done it.

All this while I had no sufficient evidence of her guilt, neither had I so much as charged her with it, or let her know I suspected her, otherwise than as she might perceive it in my conduct and in the change of my behaviour to her, which was such, that she could not but perceive that something troubled me, yet she took no notice of it to me, but received me very well, and showed herself to be glad of my return; nor did I find she had been extravagant in ner expenses while I was abroad; but jealousy, as the wise man says, is the wrath of a man; her being so good a housewife of what money I had left her gave my distempered fancy an opinion that she had been maintained by other people, and so had had no occasion to spend.

I must confess she had a difficult point here upon her, though she had been really honest; for as my head was prepossessed of her dishonesty, if she had been lavish, I should have said she had spent it upon her gentlemen; and as she had been frugal, I said, she had been maintained by them: thus, I say, my head was distempered; I believed myself abused, and nothing could put it out of my thoughts night or day.

All this while, it was not visibly broken out between us; but I was so fully possessed with the belief of it, that I seemed to want no evidence, and I looked with an evil eye upon everybody that came near her, or that she conversed with: there was an officer of the garde du corps, that lodged in the same house with us, a very honest gentleman and a man of quality; I happened to be in a little drawing-room adjoining to a parlour where my wife sat at that time, and this gentleman came into the parlour, which, as he was one of the family, he might have done without offence, but he not knowing that I was in the drawing-room, sat down and talked with my wife; I heard every word they said, for the door between us was open, nor could I say that there passed anything between them but cursory discourse; they talked of casual things, of a young lady, a burgher's daughter of nineteen, that had been married the week before to an advocate in the parliament of Paris, vastly rich, and about thirty-six and of another, a widow lady of fortune in Paris, that had married her deceased husband's valet de chambre, and of such casual matters, that I could find no fault with her now

at all.

[ocr errors]

But it filled my head with jealous thoughts, || and fired my temper; now I fancied he used too much freedom with her, then that she used too much freedom to him, and once or twice I was upon the point of breaking in upon them, and affronting them both, but I restrained myself; at length he talked something merrily of the lady throwing away her maidenhead, as I understood it, upon an old man; but still it was nothing indecent; but I, who was all on fire already, could bear it no longer, but started up, and came into the room, and catching at my wife's words, "Say you so, madam," said I; "was he too old for her?" and giving the officer a look that I fancy was something akin to the face on the sign called the Bull and Mouth, within Aldersgate, I went out into the street.

The marquis, so he was styled, a man of honour and of spirit too, took it as I meant it, and followed me in a moment, and hemm'd after me in the street; upon which I stopped, and he came up to me. "Sir," said he, "our circumstances are very unhappy in France, that we cannot do ourselves justice here without the most severe treatment in the world; but, come on it what will, you must explain yourself to me on the subject of your behaviour just now."

I was a little cooled as to the point of my conduct to him in the very few moments that had passed, and was very sensible that I was wrong to him, and I said, therefore, to him, very frankly, "Sir, you are a gentleman, whom I know very well, and I have a very great respect for you; but I had been disturbed a little about the conduct of my wife, and, were it your own case, what would you have done less?"

"I am sorry for any dislike between you and your wife," says he; "but what is that to me? Can you charge me with any indecency to her, except my talking so and so (at which he repeated the words), and, as I knew you were in the next room, and heard every word, and that all the doors were open, I thought no man could have taken amiss so innocent an expression."

"I could no otherwise take it amiss;" said I, "than as I thought it implied a farther familiarity, and that you cannot expect should be borne by any man of honour; however, sir," said I, "I spoke only to my wife; I said nothing to you, but gave you my hat as I passed you.'

"Yes," said he, " and a look as full of rage as the devil; are there no words in such looks?" "I can say nothing to that," said I, "for I cannot see my own countenance; but my rage, as you call it, was at my wife, not at you." "But hark you, sir," said he (growing warm as I grew calm), your anger at your wife was for her discourse with me, and I think that concerns me too, and I ought to resent it."

[ocr errors]

"I think not, sir," said I; "nor, had I found you in bed with my wife, would I have quarrelled with you; for if my wife will let you lie with her, it is she is the offender, what have I to do with you? You could not lie with her if she was not willing, and if she is willing to be a w▬▬e, I ought to punish her; but I should have no quarrel with you; I will lie with your wife if I can, and then I am even with you."

I spoke this all in good-humour, and in order to pacify him, but it would not do; but he would

have me give him satisfaction, as he called it. I told him I was a stranger in the country, and perhaps should find little mercy in their course of justice; that it was not my business to fight any man in his vindicating his keeping company with my wife, for that the injury was mine, in having a bad woman to deal with; that there was no reason in the thing, that after any man should have found the way into my bed, I, who am injured, should go and stake my life upon an equal hazard against the man who has abused me.

Nothing would prevail with this person to be quiet for all this; but I had affronted him, and no satisfaction could be made him but that at the point of the sword; so we agreed to go away together to Lisle in Flanders. I was now soldier enough not to be afraid to look a man in the face, and as the rage at my wife inspired me with courage, so he let fall a word that fired and provoked me beyond all patience; for, speaking of the distrust I had of my wife, he said, unless I had good information I ought not to suspect my wife: I told him, if I had good-information, I should be past suspicion; he replied, if he was the happy man that had so much of her favour, he would take care then to put me past the suspicion; I gave him as rough an answer as he could desire, and he returned in French, nous verrons à Lisle, that is to say, we will talk further of it at || Lisle.

I told him I did not see the benefit either to him or me of going so far as Lisle to decide this quarrel, since now I perceived he was the man I wanted, that we might decide this quarrel, au champ, upon the spot, and whoever had the fortune to fell the other, might make his escape to Lisle, as well afterwards as before.

Thus we walked on, talking very ill-naturedly on both sides, and yet very mannerly, till we came clear of the suburbs of Paris, and on the way to Charenton; when, seeing the way clear, I told him, under those trees was a very fit place for us, pointing to a row of trees adjoining to Monsieur

-'s garden wall; so we went thither, and fell to work immediately; after some fencing, he made a home thrust at me, and run me, into my arm, a long slanting wound, but at the same time received my point into his body, and soon after fell; he spoke some words before he dropped; first, he told me I had killed him; then he said, he had indeed wronged me, and as he knew it, he ought not to have fought me; he desired I would make my escape immediately, which I did into the city, but no farther, nobody as I thought, having seen us together. In the afternoon, about six hours after the action, messengers brought news, one on the heels of another, that the marquis was mortally wounded, and carried into a house at Charenton; that account, saying he was not dead, surprised me a little, not doubting but that, concluding I had made my escape, he would own who it was; however, I discovered nothing of my concern, but going up into my chamber, I took out of a cabinet there what money I had, which indeed was so much as I thought would be sufficient for my expenses; but having an accepted bill for 2,000 livres, I walked sedately to a merchant who knew me, and got 50 pistoles of him upon my

bill, letting him know my business called me to England and I would take the rest of him when he had received it.

CHAPTER XV.

for it was still a most difficult thing to pass any way, but that I should either be in the King of France's dominions, or be taken by the French allies as a subject of France; but getting good advice from a priest at Bar-le-Duc, who, though I did not tell him the particulars of my case, yet

DISTRESS OF MY WIFE-I CAST HER OFF, AND TAKE guessed how it was, it being, as he said, very

HORSE FOR LORRAINE-I ARRIVE SAFELY IN LON-
DON NEWS OF MY WIFE, TO WHOM I SEND A

usual for gentlemen in my circumstances to fly that way. Upon this supposition, this kind padre SMALL SUM OF MONEY-HER GALLANT RECOVERS, got me a church pass, that is to say, he made me

AND CLEARS MY HANDS OF HER-I MEET WITH A
YOUNG WIDOW IN A STAGE COACH, WITH WHOM

a purveyor for the abbey of and, as such, got me a passport to go to Deux-ponts, which

1 FALL IN FANCY, AND MARRY WITH EVERY belonged to the King of Sweden. Having such

PROSPECT OF HAPPINESS-SHE TAKES TO DRINK-
ING AND DIES.

HAVING furnished myself thus, I provided me a
horse for my servant, for I had a very good one
of my own, and once more ventured home to my
lodging, where I heard again that the marquis
was not dead. My wife all this while covered
her concern for the marquis so well, that she
gave me no room to make any remark upon her;
but she saw evidently the marks of rage and
deep resentment in my behaviour after some
little stay, and perceiving me making prepara-
tions for a journey, she said to me, "Are you
going out of town?"-" Yes, madam," says I,
"that you may have room to mourn for your
friend the marquis;" at which she started, and
showed she was indeed in a most terrible fright,
and making a thousand crosses about herself, with
a great many callings upon the Blessed Virgin,
and her country saints, she burst out at last,
"Is it possible! Are you the man that killed
the marquis? Then you are undone, and
I too."

"You may, madam, be a loser by the marquis being killed, but I'll take care to be as little a loser by you as I can; it is enough the marquis has honestly confessed your guilt, and I have done with you;" she would have thrown herself into my arms, protesting her innocence, and told me she would fly with me, and would convince me of her fidelity by such testimonies as I could not but be satisfied with, but I thrust her violently from me; "allez infame!" said I, "go, infamous creature, and take from me the necessity I should be under if I stayed, of sending you to keep company with your dear friend the marquis." I thrust her away with such force, that she fell backward upon the floor and cried out most terribly, and indeed she had reason, for she was very much hurt.

authority there, and the priest's recommendation to an ecclesiastic in the place, I got passports from thence in the King of Sweden's name to Cologne, and then I was thoroughly safe; so making my way to the Netherlands, without any difficulty I came to the Hague, and from thence, though very privately, and by several names, I came to England; and thus I got clear of my Italian wife, w-e I should have called her; for, after I had made her so myself, how should I expect any other of her?

Being arrived at London, I wrote to my friend at Paris, but dated my letter from the Hague, where I ordered him to direct his answers; the chief business of my writing was, to know if my bill was paid him, to inquire if any pursuit was made after me, and what other news he had about me, or my wife, and particularly how it had fared with the marquis.

I received an answer in a few days, importing that he had received the money on my bill, which he was ready to pay as I should direct; that the marquis was not dead, "but," said he, "you have killed him another way, for he has lost his commission in the guards, which was worth to him 20,000 livres, and he is yet a close prisoner in the Bastile;" that pursuit was ordered after me upon suspicion; that they had followed me to Amiens, on the road to Dunkirk, and to Chateau de Cambresis, on the way to Flanders; but, missing me that way, had given it over; that the marquis had been too well instructed to own that he had fought with me, but said that he was assaulted on the road, and, unless I could be taken, he would take his trial and come off for want of proof; that my flying was a circumstance indeed that moved strongly against him, because it was known that we had had some words that day, and were seen to walk together; but that nothing being proved on either side, he would come off with the loss of his commission, which, however, being very rich, he could bear well enough.

As to my wife, he wrote me word she was inHow-consolable, and had cried herself to death almost ; but he added (very ill-natured indeed), and whether it was for me, or for the marquis, that he could not determine; he likewise told me she was in very bad circumstances, and very low, so that if I did not take some care of her, she would come to be in very great distress.

It grieved me indeed to have thrust her away with such force, but you must consider me now in the circumstances of a man enraged, and, as it were, out of himself, furious and mad. ever, I took her up from the floor and laid her on the bed, and calling up her maid, bid her go and take care of her mistress: and going soon after out of doors, I took horse and made the best of my way, not towards Calais or Dunkirk, or towards Flanders, whither it might be suggested I was fled, and whither they did pursue me the same evening, but I took the direct road for Lorraine, and riding all night, and very hard, I passed the Maine the next day at night at Chalons, and came safe into the Duke of Lorraine's dominions the third day, where I rested one day, only to consider what course to take,

The latter part of this story moved me indeed, for I thought, however it was, I ought not to let her starve; and besides, poverty was a temptation which a woman could not easily withstand, and I ought not to be the instrument to drive her to a horrid necessity of crime, if I could prevent it.

Upon this I wrote to him again, to go to her, and talk with her, and learn as much as he could of her particular circumstances; and that, if he found she was really in want, and particularly, that she did not live a scandalous life, he should give her twenty pistoles, and tell her, if she would engage to live retired and honestly, she should have so much annually, which was enough to subsist her.

She took the first twenty pistoles, but bade him tell me that I had wronged her, and unjustly charged her, and I ought to do her justice; and I had ruined her by exposing her in such a manner as I had, having no proof of my charge, or ground for any suspicion; that, as to twenty pistoles a-year, it was a mean allowance to a wife that had travelled over the world as she had done with me, and the like; and so expostulated with him to obtain forty pistoles a-year of me, which I consented to; but she never gave me the trouble of paying above one year; for, after that, the marquis was so fond of her again, that he took her away to himself; and, as my friend wrote me word, had settled 400 crowns a-year on her, and I never heard any more of her.

I was now in London, but was obliged to be very retired, and change my name, letting nobody in the nation know who I was, except my merchant, by whom I corresponded with my people in Virginia; and particularly, that my tutor, who was now become the head manager of my affairs, and was in very good circumstances himself also by my means, but he deserved all I did, or could do for him, for he was a most faithful friend, as well as servant, as ever man had, in that country at least.

I was not the easiest man alive in the retired solitary manner I now lived in; and I experienced the truth of the text, that it is not good for man to be alone, for I was extremely melancholy and heavy, and indeed knew not what to do with my self, particularly, because I was under some restraint, that I was, too, afraid to go abroad; at last I resolved to go quite away, and go to Virginia again, and there live retired as I could.

in concluding where to pitch, for, as I spoke the French tongue perfectly well, having been so many years among them, it was easy for me to pass for a Frenchman; so I went to Canterbury, called myself an Englishman among the French, and a Frenchman among the English; and on that score was the more perfectly concealed, going by the name of Monsieur Charnot with the English, and Mr Charnock among the French.

Here indeed I lived perfectly incog.; I made no particular acquaintance so as to be intimate, and yet I knew everybody, and everybody knew me; I discoursed in common, talked French with the Walloons, and English with the English; lived retired and sober, and was well enough received by all sorts; but, as I meddled with nobody's business, so nobody meddled with mine; I thought I lived pretty well.

But I was not fully satisfied; a settled family life was the thing I loved; I had made two pushes at it as you have heard, but with ill success; yet the miscarriage of what was passed did not discourage me at all, but I resolved to marry; I looked out for a woman as suitable as I could, but always found something or other to shock my fancy, except once a gentleman's daughter of good fashion, but I met with so many repulses of one kind or another, that I was forced to give it over, and indeed, though I might be said to be a lover in this suit, and had managed myself so well with the young lady that I had no difficulty left but what would soon have been adjusted; yet her father was so difficult, made so many objections, was to-day not pleased one way, tomorrow another, that he would stand by nothing that he himself had proposed, nor could he ever be brought to be of the same mind two days to. gether; so that we at last put an end to the pretensions, for she would not marry without her father's consent, and I would not steal her, and so that affair ended.

I cannot say but I was a little vexed at the disappointment of this, so I left the city of Canterbury, and went to London in the stage coach; here I had an odd scene presented as ever happened of its kind.

But when I came to consider that part more narrowly, I could not prevail with myself to live a private life; I had got a wandering kind of There was in the stage coach a young woman taste, and knowledge of things begat a desire of and her maid; she was sitting in a very melanincreasing it, and an exceeding delight I had in choly posture, for she was in the coach before it, though I had nothing to do in the armies or in me, and sighed most dreadfully all the way, and war, and did not design ever to meddle with it whenever her maid spoke to her, she burst out again; yet I could not live in the world, and not into tears; I was not long in the coach with her inquire what was doing in it, nor could I think || before, seeing she made such a dismal figure, I of living in Virginia, where I was to hear my offered to comfort her a little, and inquired into news twice a-year, and read the public accounts the occasion of her affliction, but she would not of what was just then upon the stocks, as the speak a word; but her maid, with a force of history of things past. crying too, said her master was dead, at which word the lady burst out again into a passion of crying, and, between mistress and maid, this was all I could get for the morning part of that day. When we came to dine, I offered the lady, that seeing, I supposed, she would not dine with the company, if she would please to dine with me I would dine in a separate room, for the rest of the company were foreigners: her maid thanked me in her mistress's name, but her mistress could eat nothing, and desired to be private.

This was my notion; I was now in my native country, where my circumstances were easy; and, though I had ill luck abroad, for I brought little money home with me, yet, by a little good management, I might soon have money by me. I had nobody to keep but myself, and my plantatations in Virginia generally returned me from 400l. to 6007. a-year, one year above 7001., and to go thither, I concluded, was to be buried alive; so I put off all thoughts of it, and resolved to settle somewhere in England, where I might know everybody, and nobody know me. I was not long

[ocr errors]

Here, however, I had some discourse with the

B

COLONEL JACK.

maid, from whom I learned that the lady was
wife to a captain of a ship, who was outward
bound to somewhere in the Streights, I think it
was to Zante and Venice; that, being gone no
farther than the Downs, he was taken sick, and,
after about ten days' illness, had died at Deal;
that his wife, hearing of his sickness, had gone to
Deal to see him, and had come but just time
enough to see him die; had stayed there to bury
him, and was now coming to London in a sad
disconsolate condition indeed.

I heartily pitied the young gentlewoman
indeed, and said some things to her in the coach
to let her know I did so, which she gave no
answer to, but, in civility, now and then made
a bow, but never gave me the least opportunity
to see her face, or so much as to know whether
she had a face or no, much less to guess what
form of a face it was; it was winter time, and
the coach put up at Rochester, not going
through in a day, as was usual in summer; and a
little before we came to Rochester I told the
lady I understood she had eat nothing to-day,
that such a course would but make her sick,
and, doing her harm, could do her deceased
husband no good; and therefore I entreated
her, that, as I was a stranger, and only offered
a civility to her, in order to abate her severely
afflicting herself, she would yield so far to
matters of ceremony as let us sup together as
passengers; for as to the strangers, they did
not seem to understand the custom, or to desire

it.

66

She bowed, but gave no answer; only after
pressing her by arguments, which she could not
deny was very civil and kind, she returned, she
Well,
gave me thanks, but she could not eat.
madam," said I, "do but sit down, though you
think you cannot eat, perhaps you may eat a
bit; indeed you must eat, or you will destroy
yourself at this rate of living, and upon the road
too: in a word, you will be sick indeed." I
argued with her; the maid put in a word, and
said, Do, madam, pray try to divert yourself a
little." I pressed her again, and she bowed to me
very respectfully, but still said no, and she could
not eat; the maid continued to importune her,
and said, "Dear madam, do; the gentleman is a
civil gentleman, pray madam, do;" and then,
turning to me, said, "My mistress will, sir, I
hope;" and seemed pleased, and indeed was so.

66

She startled me when she said she had seen me before, for I had not the least knowledge of her, nor did I remember so much as to have heard of her name, for I had asked her name of her maid; and indeed it made me almost repent my compliment, for it was many ways essential However, I could not to me not to be known. go back, and, besides, if I was known, it was essentially necessary to me to know who it was that knew me, and by what circumstances; so I went on with my compliment.

We came to the inn but just before it was dark; I offered to hand my widow out of the coach, and she could not decline it; but though her hoods were not then much over her face, yet, being dark, I could see little of her then; I waited on her then to the stair-foot, and led her up the inn stairs to a dining-room, which the master of the house offered to show us, as if for the whole company; but she declined going in there, and said, she desired rather to go directly to her chamber, and, turning to her maid, bade her speak to the innkeeper to show her to her lodging-room; so I waited on her to the door, and took my leave, telling her I would expect her at supper.

In order to treat her moderately well, and not extravagantly, for I had no thoughts of anything farther than civility, which was the effect of mere say, compassion, for the unhappiness of the most truly disconsolate woman that I ever met with; in order to treat her handsomely, but not extravagantly, I provided what the house afforded, which was a couple of partridges, and a very good dish of stewed oysters; they brought us up afterward a neat's tongue, and a nam, that was almost cut quite down; but we eat none of it, for the other was fully enough for us both, and the maid made her supper of the oysters we had left, which were enough.

I mention this, because it should appear I did not treat her as a person I was making any court to, for I had nothing of that in my thoughts; but merely in pity to the poor woman, who I saw in a circumstance that was indeed very unhappy.

When I gave her maid notice that supper was ready, she fetched her mistress, coming in before her with a candle in her hand, and then it was that I saw her face, and, being in her dishabille, she had no hoods over eyes, or black upon her head, when I was truly surprised to see one of the most beautiful faces upon earth; I saluted her, and led her to the fire side, the table, though spread, being too far from the fire, the weather being cold.

However, I went on to persuade her; and,
taking no notice of what her maid said, that I
was a civil gentleman, I told her, "I am a
stranger to you, madam; but if I thought you
were shy of me on any account as to civility, I
will send my supper up to you in your chamber,
and stay below myself." She bowed then to me
twice, and looked up, which was the first time,
and said, she had no suspicion of that kind; that
my offer was so civil, that she was as much
ashamed to refuse it as she should be ashamed
to accept it, if she was where she was known;
that she thought I was not quite a stranger to
her, for she had seen me before; that she would
accept my offer, so far as to sit at table, because
I desired it; but she could not promise me to eat,
and that she hoped I would take the other as a
constraint upon her, in return to so much kind-great while.

ness.

She was now something sociable, though very grave, and sighed often on account of her circumstances; but she so handsomely governed her grief, yet so artfully made it mingle itself with all her discourse, that it added exceedingly to her behaviour, which was every way most exquisitely genteel. I had a great deal of discourse with her, and upon many subjects, and by degrees took her name, that is to say, from herself, as I had done before from her maid, also the place where she lived, viz. near Ratcliff, or rather Stepney, where I asked her leave to pay her a visit, when she thought fit to admit company, which she seemed to intimate would not be a

It is a subject too surfeiting to entertain people

« VorigeDoorgaan »