Fanny (10 page)

I turn’d away from this Sight, once again grown melancholick, and led Lustre into the Throng in search of a Pyeman or some other Purveyor of Foodstuffs. The Crowd, howe’er, was pressing towards another Attraction, and willy-nilly, my Horse and I were swept along to a Booth which promis’d “a Great Collection of Strange and Wonderful Rarities, all Alive from sev’ral Parts of the World.” The Proprietor of the Booth, a certain Mr. Doggett, was a Famous Actor who had abandon’d his Calling in order to grow rich off the Rabble that attended sundry Fairs about the Countryside. He was a strutting Fellow, with an Actor’s Hunger for Applause and a Merchant’s Hunger for Money, and all the fine Feelings of a hungry Cur scavenging for his Supper.

“Hear ye, Hear ye!” he cried to the Throng, pushing his greasy cockt Hat back on his Head, pulling at the Queue of his Tye-Wig, and screwing up his red Face to intimidate those Members of the Audience he could not tempt with his freakish Wares.

“’Ere’s the Sight of a Lifetime,” he declaim’d. “What? Are ye timid? Are ye womanish? Are ye afear’d fer yer Wits?”

The Crowd stood mute and transfixt by his Bullying. I was determin’d to lead Lustre away and escape the Freak Show. But just at the Moment I began to back away, he fixt his terrible Gaze upon me and said, “Won’t the Young Gentleman lead the Crowd? Or are ye afear’d, too?”

Thus challenged, I had to make reply, and so, in what I hop’d was my deepest Voice, I said, “Sirrah, my Horse wants Water. I cannot loiter here.”

Down comes Doggett from his Pulpit, seizes Lustre by the Halter, praises his Beauty with a covetous Look, and says: “I’ll water yer Horse, Boy. Come, see the Show fer not one Farthing.” In a trice, he leads Lustre to an Enclosure behind the Pulpit, hands the Halter to his Manservant, and mounts the Booth again before the teeming Crowd.

“’Ere, Boy,” he says to me, “lead the Way, will ye?” I was still too much of a compliant Girl (’neath my Boy’s Disguise) to challenge a big, tall Bully when thus commanded, and so I follow’d Mr. Doggett into his great Tent of Freaks and the whole Throng follow’d me. Nay, it engulf’d me in straining forward to see the Freaks.

In the stagnant and fetid Air of the Tent, Doggett display’d his Wonders. He show’d us a Woman having three Breasts, and likewise her little Daughter, also with three Breasts (tho’ whether they were of Flesh or Wax, ’twas indeed hard to tell because Doggett ne’er let us get close enough to properly see). He also show’d us a monstrous Child, with a huge Head, who suckt at the Bosom of another Woman, and whose poor Skull seem’d swollen and purple. He then presented a diminutive Black Man, lately brought from the West Indies, whom he call’d “the Wonder of this Age.” The little Black Prince was but three feet high, with the Form and Figure of a grown Man, tho’ marvellously delicate in all Proportions. There were also two Creatures call’d “Wood Monsters from the East Indies,” who lookt rather to me like twin Boys with false Hair glu’d to their Bodies and Harts’ Horns affixt to their unfortunate Scalps; and a Marmoset that danced the Cheshire Rounds; and two Dogs, nam’d Swami Bounce and Swami Bark, who wore Turbans and sat upon little Thrones and were said by Doggett to be able to foretell the Future by Barking (howe’er, the Translations thereof could only be con-stru’d by Doggett!). There were Hungarian Twins, join’d at the Back, who convers’d with each other in High or Low Dutch, Hungarian, French, or English, as the Crowd desir’d. There was also a Hungarian Youth, who had, in the Places where his Thighs or Legs should be, Women’s Breasts, upon which he was said to be able to walk (tho’ he did no such Thing whilst I watch’d). There was also a Boy who could paint Pictures with his Feet whilst he play’d on a Violin with his Hands, and a Girl born with neither Arms nor Legs, who nonetheless could thread a Needle and sew with her Teeth (the little Black Prince held the Fabrick for her); and finally, there was a Boy cover’d all over his Body with the Bristles of a Boar.

’Twas enough to satisfy my Curiosity for Oddities the Rest of my Life! The pressing Crowd seem’d to me more freakish than the Rarities themselves, for what can prevail upon the Rabble to gape at those less fortunate than themselves, except a gloating Sense of their own Self-Love? What can be the Fascination, the Entertainment, the Surprize in it? Is it merely to bless oneself with one’s own Good Fortune in being born with two Arms, two Legs, and the requisite Number of Fingers?

I was musing thus, and trying to make my Way out of the Tent to reclaim Lustre, when a fat, red-faced Village Maid before me, turn’d to me and shouted,

“Swine! Squeeze me Bum, will ye?” And she clouted me with her Basket of Plums, causing quite a Number of ’em to fall upon the Ground.

I was stunn’d. Of course, I had done no such Thing; I had not e’en been aware of her Presence until she clouted me. But her Accusation alerted the rough Country Bumpkin who was her Escort, and he turn’d on me, making the same Accusation.

“Squeeze ’er Bum, will ye? I’ll squeeze yer filthy ’Ead till yer filthy Brains fall out!”

What to do? Apologize for a Sin I did not commit, stand and fight o’er a fictitious Wrong—I quickly chose the former Path.

“A thousand Pardons, Madam,” said I in what I hop’d was my deepest Voice.

“A thousand Pardons up yer Arse!” her Defender mockt. “All ye fine Gentlemen think ye can grab at any Country Lass an’ not be punish’d fer it—well, I’ll show ye! A Pox on yer Arrogance! Zounds! I’ll ’ave Blood fer yer damn’d Arrogance! Damme if I won’t!”

“Sir,” says I, “you mistake me. I have nothing but the highest Respect for your Lady’s Honour.”

’Twas the wrong Tack to take. The Rabble was growing inflam’d with Ale and the Excitement of the Fair, and they wisht for nothing more than a Brawl, no Matter how unjust the Cause. All my Apologies only inflam’d ’em more and made my Adversary more determin’d to fight.

“Draw,” he thunder’d. “We’ll settle this Lady’s Honour ’ere an’ now!”

I had Daniel’s Sword, but scarce knew how to use it. Would that I had studied Fencing as I had Horsemanship and Dancing! The Crowd was closing in, shouting Encouragement and already laying Wagers for the Fight.

“’E’s a Pansy an’ a Fop, I’ll warrant,” says one Man close to me (speaking, of course, about myself). O I was in a Quandary of Quandaries! Ought I to reveal myself as a Woman and lose my Disguise for the Remainder of my long Journey? Should I fight it out and be flatten’d or possibly e’en run thro’ by this Great Oaf?

The Many-headed Monster of the Rabble grew larger and larger as the Shouts of the Multitude within the Tent attracted People from other parts of the Fair. The Posture-Masters had stopp’d their Contortions and press’d into the Tent to watch. The Tumblers and Vaulters, Jugglers and Rope Dancers, and e’en the Merry Andrew and his Second, had been drawn into the Tent as well, and now stood at the Sidelines, leering and winking, doing Impersonations of the great fat Country Wench who preen’d and prinkt with Pride that a real Duel was going to be fought o’er her Beauty.

“Damn ye, Sir, fer a Cowardly Pimp,” says her Swain. “Give me Satisfaction like a Man of Honour, or I’ll cut yer Ears off!”

I thought quickly, my Mind growing clear as Crystal in my Panick. I remember’d that tho’ Duelling was i’faith illegal (tho’ the Legalities were seldom enforced), there
were
certain Rules which would not be countermanded. A Gentleman was entitl’d to his Second, and to the Presence of his Surgeon; also, he was entitl’d to choose his Spot for the Duel.

“Sir,” says I, “I shall meet you in an Hour’s Time without the Old Walls of the Town—and I pray you are more a Man of Honour than to take advantage of a Gentleman when he hath neither Second nor Surgeon to attend him!”

“Damn yer Second an’ yer Surgeon, ye Cowardly Fop!” says my valiant Adversary. “I’ll ’ave Satisfaction an’ ’ave it ’ere.”

Praying to God or the Supreme Being for Aid and Courage, I drew my Silver-hiked Sword, and prepar’d to meet Choirs of Angels and the Almighty Himself forthwith. I blest myself. Ne’er had I more fervently believ’d in the Hereafter.

I stood thus for what seem’d like an Eternity. My Sword pois’d in my Hand, my Adversary glow’ring at me (he was restrain’d for the Moment only by other Members of the Rabble who wisht to clear an Arena so that all might better see the Fight and better lay their Wagers), I waited for the End of this Best of all Possible Worlds. Whereupon, just as my fierce Adversary prepar’d to draw, there came a Thund’ring of Hooves in the thick Air of the Tent and a terrifying Neighing and Whinnying—and who should appear but Lustre himself with Doggett’s poor would-be Horse Thief of a Servant clinging for Dear Life to his Neck! My beloved Stallion stampeded into the Centre of the Ring, rear’d up, throwing Doggett’s Servant clear, whinnied like Pegasus flying across the Skies, dipp’d his Head thrice as if to bid me to mount, slow’d whilst I clamber’d onto his Back, and gallop’d away like the very Wind, with his shockt but grateful Mistress hanging on to his Back.

Within and without the Tent, the Multitude stood and gap’d. Of all the Wonders of Nature they had seen on this remarkable Day, Lustre was surely the most wond’rous.

We clatter’d thro’ the Town at breakneck Speed, out thro’ the Gates and across the Meadows, where a full Moon was just now rising, and the Road before us lookt like a purple Ribband, shining and beckoning, but leading we knew not where.

CHAPTER X

A Word to the Wise about Gratitude; an exciting Chase upon horseback; our Heroine’s Conversations with two Wise Women of the Woods; and a most astonishing Prophecy.

W
E GALLOP’D FOR A
Time whilst I sought to catch my Breath and determine the next Course of Action. I thankt Lustre from the Bottom of my Heart for this amazing Rescue, thankt the Almighty for my Redemption, thankt the Man in the Moon, my Stars, and e’en the Fates themselves for preserving me thus from an untimely Demise. (For I have noticed that altho’ Mortals are very prone to beg the Almighty for Aid when they are in some Difficulty, they are equally forgetful of thanking Him when they are deliver’d, and it hath always been my Philosophy, with God as with Man, that an Ounce of Prevention is worth a Pound of Cure.)

Galloping thus, with the Wind at my Back, and my Thoughts all in Disorder about the Events that transpir’d at the Fair, I did not hear, at first, the Noise of Hooves drawing closer, nor did I notice that I was being follow’d.

But presently some strange Sense of Unease made me turn about and lo! I saw behind me, galloping like the very Devil, Doggett himself.

He was swinging a Net as if to catch me, and carrying o’er his Shoulder a Matchlock Musket with a five-foot Barrel, such as an old Country Squire might use to bring down Birds.

I spurr’d on Lustre, who was, anyway, galloping as fast as his weary Legs could carry him, but alas, Doggett kept gaining on us. As he drew closer, he shouted,

“What’ll ye have fer that Horse?”

“Nothing,” said I, “I’ll ne’er part with him!” So that was Doggett’s Game—to take Lustre and exhibit him like some Freak in his hideous Display of Grotesques.

“Ne’er!” I swore; and that Resolve giving me the extra Surge of Pow’r I needed, I jump’d a Fence into a neighbouring Meadow and led Doggett a Merry Chase o’er Stiles and Streams until we finally reach’d a rapid-rushing River, where his Horse stumbl’d and falter’d, but Lustre, undaunted, waded across.

We had lost ’em for the nonce; across the River, I saw Doggett and his defeated Horse turn back. I devoutly hop’d we had seen the Last of him. But in losing our Pursuer, we had also lost the Road. Lustre was tired from the extraordinary Exertions of rescuing me. He requir’d Sleep and Water; I requir’d Rest. There was no Inn to be found here in the Wilds, and if we slept in the Open, the dread Doggett might come to claim us.

I dismounted, kiss’d Lustre upon his blessed Blaze, ran my Lips down his gently disht Forehead, and led him to the Banks of the rapidly rushing River where, by the Light of the Moon, we both might drink.

I was kneeling thus by the Stream, cupping the cool Water in my Hands whilst Lustre lapp’d contentedly beside me, when suddenly I noticed a strange bent Figure in a high-crown’d Beaver Hat loping along the River-Bank, follow’d silently by a silky Persian Cat. In one Hand she held an Elderberry Wand with which, from Time to Time, she struck the River Water, and she mutter’d curious Syllables I could scarce, at first, understand.

“Lilith, Ishtar, Ge!” she cried. “Isis hear my Plea! O boundless bitter Sea! I, thy Priestess, call to Thee!”

The Form and Figure of this Person was so very like Pictures I had seen of Witches that at first I was frighten’d, and I strove to hide from her. But then suddenly she saw me and seem’d, i’faith, more affrighted by my Presence than I was by hers.

“’Tis not what ye think!” she cried to me. “I’m merely catching Toads for Soup!”

Toads for Soup? I thought; how very strange indeed. But as the old Woman came closer, I could see in the Moonlight that her Face was kind, tho’ she smil’d nervously as if to hide something. She had the ruddy Face of a Countrywoman of about fifty Years of Age, and ’twas healthy and astonishingly free of the least Line or Wrinkle. Her Eyes were bright blue and almost merry; and what was more, the Eyes of her Cat were the same Jewel-like Colour.

She bow’d ceremoniously, and I could only do the same—so gentle, almost fragile, was her Manner. ’Twould i’faith have seem’d rude not to bow as she did.

Her Back, it seem’d, had been bent by some childhood Disease, but when she straighten’d up as best she could, her Form was not altogether unpleasing. The Cat leapt up into her Arms and she strok’d it as she spoke to me.

“What brings a Fine Gentleman like you to this part of the Woods?” she askt, her lower Lip trembling slightly despite her confident Manner.

“O Madam,” says I, “there was a wicked Man who sought to steal my Horse. He said he wisht to buy him—but buy or steal, ’tis all as bad to me. I’ll ne’er part with him, ne’er. He’s all I have in the World.”

So trustworthy were those blue Eyes that I had blurted all this out in the girlish Voice that Nature herself had given me, whereupon my good Countrywoman lookt me o’er with much Relief and exclaim’d merrily, “A Lass! Of course, you’re but a Lass dress’d in your Brother’s Clothes!” Then she laugh’d like Wind Chimes jingling on a breezy Day.