CHAPTER XXIII
Miss Williams interrupted by a bailiff, who carries her to the Marshalsea--I accompany her--prove she is not the person named in the writ--the bailiff is fain to discharge her--we shift our lodging--her story, and my reflections thereupon-progress of a common woman of the town--resolves to quit that way of life
Her story was here interrupted by a rap at the door, which I no sooner opened, than three or four terrible fellows rushed in, one of whom accosted my fellow-lodger thus: "Madam, your servant--you must do me the favour to come along with me, I have a writ against you." While the bailiff (for so he was) spoke thus, his followers surrounded the prisoner, and began to handle her very roughly. This treatment incensed me so much, that I snatched up the poker and would certainly have used it in defence of the lady, without any regard to the strength and number of her adversaries, had she not begged me, with a composure of countenance for which I could not account, to use no violence on her behalf, which could be of no service to her, but might be very detrimental to myself. Then turning to the leader of this formidable troop, she desired to see the writ, and having perused it, said with a faltering voice, "I am not the person whose name is here mentioned, arrest me at your peril." "Ay, ay, madam," replied the catchpole. "We shall prove your identity. In the meantime, whither will you be pleased to be carried, to my house, or to jail?" "If I must be confined," said she, "I would rather be in your house than in a common jail." "Well, well," answered he, "if you have money enough in your pocket, you shall be entertained like a princess." But when she acquainted him with her poverty, he swore he never gave credit, and ordered one of his myrmidons to call a coach, to carry her to the Marshalsea at once. While they waited for the convenience, she took me aside, and bade me be under no concern on her account, for she knew how to extricate herself from this difficulty very soon, and perhaps gain something by the occasion. Although her discourse was a mystery to me, I was very well pleased with her assurance; and when the coach came to the door, I offered to accompany her to prison, to which proposal, after much entreaty, she consented.
When we arrived at the gate of the Marshalsea, our conductor alighted, and having demanded entrance, presented the writ to the turnkey, who no sooner perceived the name of Elizabeth Cary than he cried, "Ah, ah: my old acquaintance Bet! I'm glad to see thee with all my heart." So saying, he opened the coach door, and helped her to dismount; but when he observed her face, he started back, saying, "Who have we got here?" The bailiff, alarmed at this interrogation, cried with some emotion, "Who should it be but the prisoner, Elizabeth Cary?" The turnkey replied, "That Elizabeth Cary! I'll be hanged if that's Elizabeth Cary more than my grandmother." Here the lady thought fit to interpose, and tell the catchpole, if he had taken her word for it at first, he might have saved himself and her a great deal of trouble. "It may be so," answered he, "but I'll have further evidence that you are not the person, before you and I part." "Yes, yes," said she, "you shall have further evidence, to your cost." Then we adjourned into the lodge, and called for a bottle of wine, where my companion wrote a direction to two of her acquaintance, and begged the favour of me to go to their lodgings, and request them to come to her immediately. I found them together at a house in Brydges Street, Drury Lane, and as they were luckily unengaged, they set out with me in a hackney-coach without hesitation, after I had related the circumstances of the affair, which flattered then with hopes of seeing a bailiff trounced; for there is an antipathy as natural between women of that class and bailiffs, as that subsisting between mice and cats. Accordingly, when they entered the lodge, they embraced the prisoner very affectionately by the name of Nancy Williams, and asked how long she had been nabbed, and for what? On hearing the particulars of her adventure repeated, they offered to swear before a justice of peace that she was not the person mentioned in the writ, whom, it seems, they all knew; but the bailiff, who was by the time convinced of his mistake, told them he would not put them to that trouble. "Ladies," said he, "there's no harm done--you shall give me leave to treat you with another bottle, and then we'll part friends." This proposal was not at all relished by the sisterhood: and Miss Williams told him, sure he did not imagine her such a fool as to be satisfied with a paltry glass of sour wine? Here the turnkey interrupted her by affirming with an oath, that the wine was as good as ever was tipped over tongue. "Well," continued she, "that maybe; but were it the best of champagne, it is no recompense for the damage I have suffered both in character and health, by being wrongfully dragged to jail; at this rate, no innocent person is safe, since an officer of justice, out of malice, private pique, or mistake, may injure and oppress the subject with impunity; but, thank heaven, I live under the protection of laws that will not suffer such insults to pass unpunished, and I know very well how to procure redress." Mr. Vulture, for that was the bailiff's name, finding he had to deal with one who would not be imposed upon, began to look very sullen and perplexed, and, leaning his forehead on his hand, entered into a deliberation with himself, which lasted a few minutes, and then broke out in a volley of dreadful curses against the old jade our landlady, as he called her, for having misinformed him. After much wrangling and swearing, the matter was referred to the decision of the turnkey, who calling for the other bottle, mulcted the bailiff in all the liquor that had been drunk, coach hire, and a couple of guineas for the use of the plaintiff. The money was immediately deposited; Miss Williams gratified the two evidences with one half, and putting the other in her pocket drove borne with me, leaving the catchpole grumbling over his loss, yet pleased in the main, for having so cheaply got clear of a business that might have cost him ten times the sum, and his place to boot. This guinea was a very seasonable relief to us, who were reduced to great necessity, six of my shirts, and almost all my clothes, except those on my back, having been either pawned or sold for our maintenance before this happened. As we resented the behaviour of our landlady, our first care was to provide ourselves with another lodging, whither we removed next day, with an intention to keep ourselves as retired as possible, until our cure should be completed. When we were fixed in our new habitation, I entreated her to finish the story of her life, which she pursued in this manner:--