The Wayfarers

by J. C. Snaith

  CHAPTER XVII

  WE MAKE ACQUAINTANCE WITH A PERSON OF DISTINCTION

  I was by now worked up to a pretty rage. The stranger regarded it,however, with perfect calmness, not to say enjoyment.

  "In your own particular branch of the profession, sir," says he,laughing, "I am the first to admit that you do remarkably well. A goodcarriage, a refined appearance, an excellent address, and a quitesingular degree of assurance, there is but little wanting to yoursuccess. The lady, your fair companion, is wholly admirable. She haththe very look and air of a gentlewoman. She is vastly engaging too,and hath some sweet looks of her own; and I am prepared to say that shewould reassure the most suspicious of landlords and the mostincredulous of travellers."

  "I protest, sir," says I, "that I do not follow you in the least."

  "I think between friends, sir," says the other, "you might reasonablydrop the high tone. I am not at all imposed on by it. Besides, whereis the need? Believe me, I am the last man in the world to betray abrother in the pursuit of his calling. I have some few gifts myself,and my name for some years past hath been considered an ornament to theprofession; but whatever my vanity, I am ever foremost in recognizingtrue merit in others. I have never had the pleasure of meeting youbefore, sir, but the very real talent you have already evinced willmake William Sadler proud to be numbered among your friends."

  Although Mr. William Sadler, whoever he might be, pronounced his namein the manner of one who is accustomed to have it greeted withflattering recognition, as this was the first time I had happened tohear of so exalted a personage, I was unable to pay it the homage Ithink he expected from me.

  "You must really pardon me, sir," says I, "but who you are or what yourname is does not particularly interest me. I do not remember to haveheard it before, and certainly as you appear to entertain such strangeviews as to the manner in which friendship is to be conducted, I haveno very burning desire to hear it again."

  At last it seemed I had found in him a tender spot. The purpledeepened in his cheeks, and there was a brightness of anger in hiseyes. It was plain that to be ignorant of the name of Mr. WilliamSadler was to be guilty of a grave solecism. But his chagrin was onlymomentary, for he had an admirable command of himself, and at onceresumed the control of his feelings.

  "It strikes me as something of an affectation, sir," says he, "that onewho practises a very similar calling should yet profess an ignorance ofa name, which I may say, without making a boast of it, stands foremostin a kindred profession, and hath ever been reckoned an honour and anembellishment to it. The name of William Sadler, sir, is known andreverenced wherever gentlemen of the pad of all shades and degrees docongregate or hold their intercourse. It grieves me, sir, that such afine example of our calling at its best, as is to be seen in the personof yourself, sir, and in that of your fair companion, should yet denythe smallest recognition to one who hath been allowed by the ablestpractitioners of the time, and by publick opinion also, to be worthy ofhis meed of praise."

  I confess I was getting out of my depth. My companion was whollyunintelligible to me. What he meant by his allusions to our kindredprofessions, his own celebrity, and my own skill in an art of which Idid not even know the name, gravelled me completely. In his smooth,even tones, it was impossible not to find a genuine regret. Butmethought there was even more of irony in it too, a very delicate ironythat seemed entirely to consist with his cultivated and polishedcharacter. Indeed the man was an enigma altogether. His manner, hisappearance, his address were those of a gentleman. He was an elegant,well-informed, well-equipped man of the world, capable of exciting theadmiration of a lady of quality, as many a time I have been fain toacquaint Mrs. Cynthia subsequently. But who he might be passed mealtogether. He could not be a great author like Mr. Fielding. In thatcase I should have been more familiar with his name. He could not be aman of the first fashion, for the same reason. Neither was he foremostin Parliament, in the King's service, in the Queen's favour, nor was hea virtuoso in the arts. In what manner was he celebrated then? Icould not forbear from putting the question to him. As it happened,our host was fussing about the supper-table at that moment with thepudding.

  "I refer you, sir," says he, "to our worthy Boniface, our excellent Mr.Jim Grundy, for the panegyric of my character."

  Upon this the innkeeper looked from one to the other of us with a greatdeal of unction, and involved his rosy countenance in such a number ofnods and winks as conferred a great air of mystery on a simple question.

  "Come, my good Grundy," says our companion, "inform the lady andgentleman who Mr. William Sadler is."

  "They don't know who Mr. William Sadler is," says the landlord. "Whoever heard the like of it! He, he, he!"

  Instead of giving us any precise information on this point, thelandlord laughed and laughed again. Once or twice he seemed to bracehimself to break the important news to us, yet on each occasion as hewas about to open his mouth to do so, a fresh gust of mirth nearlychoked him into a fit. Indeed, he was wholly incapable of gettingfarther than:

  "Not know who Mr. Will Sadler is; well, I call that a good 'un."

  And I suppose we might have still remained in ignorance of the identityof our companion to this hour, for apparently Mr. William Sadler wastoo proud to exhibit his claims to notoriety, and the innkeeper wasphysically incapable of doing so, had it not been for a whimsicaloccurrence that presently befell. Amity had been in a great measurerestored, and we had nearly finished our supper in peace, having at thesame time behaved very creditably by the wine and the victuals, whenthe landlord suddenly burst in upon us again with a very agitated face."Oh, Mr. William," cries he to our friend, "whatever shall we do? Asheriff's posse is coming along, and I fear it is you they are seekinghot-foot. They will be here in a minute, and I do not see that you canpossibly get out in time."

  Words of this nature vastly interested us, you may be sure. We notedthat despite the shaken condition of the landlord, Mr. Sadler wasperfectly cool.

  "Hold 'em as long as you can in talk," says he, "and I will play 'em myold trick. But, my dear fellow, let me beg of you to compose yourselfa little. Such a face as you are wearing is enough to betray thecunningest knight in the country, and I must also crave the indulgenceof my two friends here. I am sure their true sporting instincts, tosay nothing of a professional fellow-feeling, will enable them to giveme any small assistance I may be in need of."

  While he was speaking in this singular manner, he was occupying himselfin one no less remarkable. He casually produced a fresh wig from oneof the huge pockets of the riding-coat that hung on the back of a chairnear his elbow, and having shook it out, discarded the modest tie wighe was wearing in favour of this much grander one, which he placed onhis head with absolute nicety and correctness. Having got as far asthis, the landlord apprehended which line he was going to take. Armedwith that knowledge, the host accordingly moved to the threshold togreet the sheriff's posse, whilst Mr. Sadler went on with his toilet.This consisted in attaching a grey beard to his chin, a pair ofmoustachios to his upper lip, and a formidable pair of horn spectaclesto his eyes. All of these he produced from the same pocket as the wig.The consequence was a complete and effectual transformation; and had wenot been witnesses of the process itself, we could not possibly haveidentified our companion of the previous moment in this venerable sage.

  This strange play which was passing in front of our eyes was sobewildering that at first we could hardly realize what was takingplace, or gauge the singular situation in which we found ourselves.But hearing the lusty demanding voices of the persons who even at thatmoment were at the threshold of the inn, the whole meaning of this oddmatter suddenly flashed into my mind. Our elegant companion was aprofessional breaker of laws, a highwayman most probably, and thesheriff's men were hot on his track. Yet as I looked at the venerablefigure before me, the embodiment of stately grace and honoured age, Icould not forbear from laughing at him.

  "An excellent jest," says he
, in a voice that so utterly differed fromhis natural one as to bestow the last and crowning touch to his alteredcharacter. "But it is one that I have played so often in one form oranother upon these and similar people that I begin to fear it may growa little worn-out. However, I must trust to my proverbial luck, andyour kind co-operation."

  He had no time to say anything more before these unwelcome visitorscame into the room with the landlord at their head.

  "You can really take my word for it, gentlemen I assure you," he saidpositively, protesting, "I have seen no such person as you describe.Nor is it at all likely that my house, which has ever been famous forits high respectability, would harbour such a desperate ruffian. Yousay that His Majesty's mail has been stopped and tried this evening byWill Sadler not five miles off, and that booty exceeding four thousandpounds hath been taken. Lord defend us, gentlemen, whoever heard thelike! It is incredible; can this be the eighteenth century?"

  By this about half a-dozen dirty, rain-soaked ruffians, comprising thesheriff's posse, had come into the room. And at the head of them, ifyou please, was that very despotic justice, the squire of theneighbouring parish, who that afternoon had clapt us in the stocks.His appearance certainly complicated matters a good deal, and was liketo make them vastly more awkward for us. Yet the fellow at this timewas in such an excited state of mind, due to the recent terrible eventand his high sense of what he was pleased to call his public duty, thathe gave neither Cynthia nor myself the slightest recognition. Indeed,he had most probably forgotten our recent encounter.

  I had hardly on my side recognized the justice ere my decision wastaken. It may be to my lasting discredit as a good citizen and truesubject that I hardly so much as gave a thought to betraying thedesperate fellow who was so completely delivered into our hands. Oneword from either of us, and his last exploit would have beenperpetrated. But it would have called for a greater humanity or aless, sure I know not which, and a deeper instinct of the public wealthan either of us appeared to possess, to deliver up Mr. Sadler in coldblood to the tender mercies of the law. Accordingly I took a boldcourse, perhaps as much to assist the disguise of our companion as topreserve our own impunity.

  Swinging round on the justice and the inn-keeper, I exhibited a degreeof excitement at the news by no means inferior to their own.

  "Zounds!" I cried, "what are you saying, landlord? King's mail, fourthousand pounds, villain escaped. Whenever did I hear the like? Hemust be pursued; we must leave no stone unturned. Do I understand thathe is on these premises?"

  The stress of my concern and the degree of authority I contrived toinsinuate into it, stood me in good stead with the squire, who saw inme a person as law-abiding as himself. Indeed, the number ofbreathless questions I pestered him with concerning how the matterhappened, when it happened, who could be made responsible for it, andwhat steps could be taken to prevent it happening again, all of whichwere so futile and worth so little, as presently suggested to thesquire that he might conceivably be in the company of a brother justice.

  "Are you in the commission, may I ask, sir?" says he.

  "Aye, that I am, sir," says I, "for the county of Wilts. I never wasmore distressed by anything than the news of this grievous affair."

  "Very pleased to meet you, sir," says the squire. "I am in thecommission too, sir, and I quite agree with every word you have thoughtfit to utter. Every word, I do upon my word, sir."

  It was remarkable how the fact that I was a justice of the peace aswell as himself affected his demeanour. He developed a suddenaffability towards me, and used a special tone in which to address me.He discovered such a respect for my opinion, showed so many marks ofhis consideration for me, and generally endeavoured to ingratiatehimself into my esteem in a way that allowed it to be clearlyunderstood that to his mind the office of a magistrate had lifted me atonce out of the ruck of common men. I was one who, like himself, hadbeen as it were initiated into the Eleusinian mysteries. My look, mylightest word, was to him of vastly more importance than even thebusiness he had come upon. Indeed he was quite overjoyed to findhimself in the society of a person who was of his own rank in life, andone with whom he might converse without imperilling his own uneasydignity. It was delightful to observe how my presence unfitted him topay the slightest attention to any one other than myself. He couldhardly bring himself to address the innkeeper or his attendants in thepresence of a brother magistrate. And to such an extent was he workedupon that even the business that had brought him thither paled intoinsignificance before so felicitous a meeting.

  After a full five minutes had been spent on his affable reception ofme, and he had repeated again and again how pleased and honoured he wasto meet me; and he had asked me how long I had been in the commission,and had told me how long he had been in it, and how long his father hadbeen in it before him; with other matters of the first importance, andall mightily pertinent to the robbery of the royal mail, one of his menhad the temerity to make a suggestion.

  "Begging your honour's pardon," says he, politely touching his hat,"but what does your honour think we had better do, seeing as how theman don't seem to be here?"

  "Do," says the squire, taking him up angrily. "Burn me, was there eversuch insolence? Are you not aware that I am at present engaged withyour betters, and yet you have the damnable impertinence to ask me whatyou shall do."

  "But the highwayman, if you please, your honour," says the other, whowas rather a stubborn fellow.

  "Oh, the highwayman," says the squire. "How dare you intrude a personof that low character when I am engaged with a brother magistrate? Letthe highwayman go to the devil too."

  "In short," says I, reading the squire's disposition, "you can all goto the devil, the sooner the better. Do you think the meeting of twogentlemen can be disturbed by such a petty matter? I am about to askthe honour of the company of my brother justice over a bottle.Landlord, have the goodness to bring up some more of your excellentBurgundy, and also do us the service of sending these dirty rascalsabout their business. There are no highwaymen here, and if there were,do you suppose that gentlemen are to be put to inconvenience by them?"

  Hereupon the squire, finding himself received in such high favour,hastened to second my proposal. The posse was sent packing into thewind and rain to continue the pursuit of Mr. William Sadler, althoughthey evidently had not the least idea as to which direction he might bein; whilst the magistrate proposed to take his ease in his inn, in thesociety of the very rogue his men had gone forth to seek.

  The host soon returned with the wine, and we settled ourselves togood-fellowship. To judge by the sly satisfaction that appeared atintervals in Mr. Sadler's venerable countenance, he was very wellpleased with the arrangement; whilst I am sure the squire was vastlyso. As for Cynthia and myself, I think we both had some share in thissatisfaction also. We figured to ourselves the eventuality of beingable to repay this numscull fellow in his own coin, by putting upon himsome of the indignity he had been so prompt to put upon us thatafternoon.

  In a person of a better capacity it might have been a matter ofsurprise that we should have gone unrecognized. But this squire wasbut a poor apology of a fellow, with probably as many wits as a rabbit,and as great a discernment as a mole. And in my case there may havebeen some little excuse, for after all one man is very much likeanother, and differs not so much in his appearance as in hiscircumstances. In the parlour of a tavern it is as easy to pass for ajustice of the peace as it is in the stocks to pass for a rogue.Perhaps in Cynthia's case an even better excuse could be found for him.Instead of a dejected and bedraggled creature (madam hath twice alreadyblotted this sentence out!) trudging at the side of a forlornmusicianer that blew the flute, here was a very different person. Hermuddy cloak had been discarded to disclose a very tolerable travellingattire beneath, which, laced as it was, could pass very well in thecountry for the first fashion. Besides, in some impalpable feminineway, by some cunning trick of the sex, she had added here and there atouch to
her hair and her person, till she shone forth as fair and trimin the glow of the fire and the candles as Herrick's Julia. She was nolonger the wandering female (saving her presence!), but the lady ofquality, holding her court of three. The brightness of the place wascommunicated to her cheeks and her eyes. The dainty malice, the graveinsolence, the superb disdain, the assurance and yet the solicitude offashion wedded to beauty, youth to breeding, was a sufficient masque tothe draggle-tailed little creature of the afternoon. If it may be saidof men that they are the victims of their circumstances, and cut theirfigure in the world according to them, how much more truly may the samebe said of women, for are they not chameleons that receive their huefrom their surroundings?

  Being completely confident that we ran no risk of discovery from anyexercise the squire might make of his natural faculties, I had nocompunction about introducing Mrs. Cynthia and Mr. Sadler, that thefeast of reason and the flow of soul might be unimpeded. Thoroughlyalive to the whimsicality of the passages that were like to ensue fromsuch ill-assorted company sitting down together, I mischievouslydetermined to give the thing a more extravagant touch if possible, bysailing as near to the truth as I could. Therefore, fully aware of thedelicious savour of the whole affair, Mrs. Cynthia was presented as mywife, the Countess of Tiverton, and our friend Mr. Sadler, thehighwayman and lord knows what besides, as her ladyship's cholericpapa, his grace of Salop.

  Never, I vow, was a man so overcome with the society in which he foundhimself as this rustical clown of a justice. Having plainly been usedto no better all his life than that of his pigs, his sheep, his cows,his horses, the village beadle, and the worthies of the villageale-house, he had no higher sense of rendering what he conceived wasdue to our superior dignity, than they had in rendering the same tohis. His bows, his smirks, his grimaces, his gross flatteries, wouldhave excited our pity had he deserved any. They were so grotesque thateven Mr. Sadler grinned through his great beard.

  The landlord too fell in very sagaciously with the whole thing.Whatever opinion he might entertain on his own part of our figure inthe world, the fact that we had been admitted to the friendship of Mr.Sadler was a sufficient guarantee of his not going unrequited. Armedwith this assurance he produced some really excellent wine in liberalquantities, and furnished us with the fullest meed of his respectfulservice; though it is gravely to be doubted whether he considered wehad any better right to enjoy our titles than had Mr. Sadler. But Iwill go bail for the justice, who rejoiced in the name of Hodgkin, thatno such doubts invaded his mind. He was simply happy. His wildestdreams were realized. His loftiest ambitions were fulfilled. Was henot hobnobbing with the great at their own table on terms of perfectequality? He never addressed any of us without bringing in our titlessomehow, either as the prologue or the epilogue of what he had to say,sometimes as both, and in the middle too. And just as a duke is apersonage of more consideration than an earl, even if he be a justiceof the peace, or a countess if she be young and fair, so did oursquire, after he had felt his way a bit, had drunk a glass or two andgot used to such unaccustomed company, direct the main of his attentionto his grace of Salop. Indeed such advances did he presently make inthe good esteem of that venerable nobleman that he was fain to directnearly the whole of his discourse to him. He played him, and ogledhim, your grace'd him this, and your grace'd him that, until he felt hehad ingratiated himself into the highest favour. And having attainedto this good fortune, he could hardly bring himself to so much as lookat Cynthia and me. As in the case of his rustics and the inn-keeper,we, as it were, presently discovered him engaged with our betters; andhe clearly hoped we should understand that to be the case.