Victorian Urban Legends: The Wrong Bed August 16, 2015
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
The Wrong Bed urban legend is self explanatory: a man or a woman get in the wrong bed in the wrong room in the wrong house, inevitably with someone of the opposite sex. That this story did the rounds in Victorian times there should be no surprise. What is incredible is that the story was published by the censorious British press at all: one was borrowed from the US. Here are two stories: 1859 and 1868. The line about a beautiful young woman ‘all unready’ is about as close as the starchy British journalist ever got to a semi-erotic comment.
Some days since a young couple, who had newly donned hymeneal vestments, came from their home, a pleasant village in this State (says the Cincinnati Inquirer), to spend a portion of the honeymoon, and placed themselves under the charge of the proprietor of the Spencer House. They then sallied forth to witness the beauties and peculiarities of Queen City, and as brides are ever wont, a quantity of the little business embraced in the term ‘shopping.’ They were gone several hours, and did not return to the hotel till near sundown, quite fatigued with their exertions. The bride, Mrs. R., then found that she had forgotten some articles indispensable for her toilette, and, unwilling to disturb her husband, who, she knew, must be weary, slipped out while he was downstairs, and went up fourth street to get the diminutive bundle. She was successful in her search for the store and the article, but on her way back, mistook, from her ignorance of the city, Main-street for Broadway, and the Madison for the Spencer House, which are situated nearly opposite to each other. Mrs. R. went into the hotel, and ordered a waiter to bring her the key to No. 48, which he did, and she entered it, and removed her bonnet, shawl, and other portions of her attire and crept between the sheets of the bed to enjoy a little nap after her long walk, never dreaming she was in the wrong house, for the reason that the apartment happened to have the same position, and was furnished very much like her room at the ‘Spencer.’ She fell into a profound sleep, until eleven o’clock, at which time she was disturbed by a most unexpected incident. The rightful occupant of No. 48, a merchant from a town in Indiana, who had become a little intoxicated, went to the Madison, and, wishing no one see his condition, walked up to his room without a light. He entered quietly, and as total darkness reigned there, he removed his garments and crept into the spacious double bed, not disturbing in the least the fair bride who lay near the wall. How long the two reposed there, side by side, with only a foot of space between them, is not exactly known; but the bride awoke about midnight, and putting her hand over her husband, she imagined, it fell upon the Indianian’s face. She said ‘dearest husband, where have you been all this while?’ ‘Husband’ echoed the merchant, beginning to see, like Lord Tinsel, that he had made small mistake here ‘I am nobody’s husband I reckon, my dear madam, you’re in the wrong bed.’ In the wrong bed!—horror of horrors! thought the bride, screamed terribly and sprang from the couch just as her companion did the same. He was fully as much alarmed as she, and entreated her to give him time and would leave the apartment, although it was the one he had engaged—he’d make his oath to that. Scream, scream, scream was the only reply to this kindly proposition. ‘Dear madam, don’t yell so! you’ll wake the house. Be reasonable; I swear it’s only a mistake. Have some thought of the consequences. I don’t want hurt you, I swear I don’t. You’ll get me shot and yourself—well, I won’t say what.’ The screams increased, and the poor Indianian, expecting every moment to see pistol thrust in his face by a jealous husband, turned pale as death, which he expected, and resigned himself to his fate. The lady’s screams roused the whole of the inmates of the hotel, who rushed to the apartment, when explanations were entered into, and the lady was ultimately restored at once to her husband and her right hotel. South Buck, 7 Jan 1859, 2.
There is droll story pertaining to a ‘block’ or row, of houses run up by an unimaginative builder. These houses were all of the same size and pattern, and the same fittings would have served for all, down even to the very knockers, bell-handles, and key-holes. At Number One in this monotonous row of dwelling, lived with her parents a beauteous young lady. At No. Two, next door, lived with ‘his’ parents a handsome young gentleman. The youthful pair fell in love with each other, and then, as frequently is the case with youthful pairs, they fell out. The quarrel was furious, and the young gentleman was forbidden into the house of his sweetheart’s and mamma. But on a certain evening, just as the maiden of Number One was retiring to rest, and was ‘all unready,’ as Mr Pepys has it, somebody entered her chamber. It was the discarded lover Number Two. He pleaded that he had mistaken the house; but the lady could see only that insult had been added to injury, and drove him scornfully from her presence. A few evenings afterwards, the unlucky swain was in turn preparing to cast himself on his desolate couch, when his door was suddenly opened, and the adored of his heart appeared in a bonnet and mantle. She was overwhelmed with confusion. She had mistaken the house, she said; and, indeed, as the latch-key of Number One fitted very accurately the key-hole of Two, and ‘vice versa,’ the cause of the mutual blunder was obvious. Of course, they made it up, and married, and looked [sic] happily ever afterwards. Maid Tel, 12 Sep 1868, 8
Any more of these gems: Almost certainly the American press will be more tolerant in the 1800s. drbeachcombing AT yahoo DOT com
28 Aug 2015 Chris from Haunted Ohio Books sent these in.
‘SHE FORGOT SHE WAS MARRIED. It is related of an absent-minded young lady of this city that, having been duly married, she started on a bridal tour. The party stopped at an hotel in a western city. So far, so good. But some time in the night there came a succession of terrified shrieks from the room occupied by the bride and groom, and the clerks, porters and employees generally rushed upstairs, only to meet a frantic female figure, clad in white, fleeing in desperate haste from her apartment, crying Oh, there’s a man in my room! The clerk rushed in and found the groom half disrobed, standing in the middle of the floor, one boot on and the other in his hand, the picture of amazement. He explained that lie had just come upstairs, and was in the act of undressing (his wife having previously retired), when she suddenly awoke with a shriek and fled. What’s the matter?” asked the clerk. “I don’t know,” said the husband. Just then the bride, dressed in a huge bedspread, procured for her by a chambermaid, came back, looking very red and foolish, and in half a minute she explained the mystery by saying “Oh, Fred, I forgot I was married. I really did and when I awoke I was so frightened.” CHIT-CHAT. New Zealand Herald, 7 October 1882: p. 3
Here is a rather racier version of The Wrong Bed, with a little gratuitous strip-tease.
IN THE WRONG BED AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION THE RECOIL AND THE EXPLANATION
The Des Moines (Iowa) Register tells the following story, which is too good to be true: Not long since a Des Moines man, while traveling on business, had occasion to stop at a town on the B&M road. The train arrived about 1 o’clock at night. Our traveller found nobody at the depot except the watchman, and by him he was directed to a hotel. He followed the directions, and in due time reached the guest house and entered. He gave several distinct alarms, but was unable to make anybody hear, and so he started on a voyage of discovery to see if he could find a bed. After running about he found a door that would yield, and entered a well-furnished room in which was a bed. It was the ladies’ parlor, but that he didn’t know, and it had been engaged for the use of a newly married couple who were at that very moment enjoying the congratulations of their friends at a nuptial party a square away. The Des Moiner was tired and sleepy, and didn’t fool away any time in getting to bed. He carefully placed all of his clothes under his pillow, stowed his boots and baggage under the bed, said his prayers and bounced in, and in exactly three-quarters of a minute he was asleep. In due time the bridal party arrived, and with them, the clerk of the hotel, who had been in attendance on the festivities. The groom modestly remained in the office until his new wife retired, merely escorting her to the door of the room, all unconscious that the bed within was already occupied. The maiden wife entered and commenced to disrobe. Pins were drawn, strings untied, puckers unravelled, gores cut; there was a surging of white lace and tumble of orange blossoms; there were snappings of stays—and the light was turned down very low, and the damsel went to bed. Then she immediately went out of bed, and the cattle on a thousand hills didn’t make half as much noise as she was making by the time she reached the floor. She whooped and yelled, screamed like an eagle and whistled like an inebriated steam engine, and in the midst of the din the Des Moines man awoke and instantly comprehended the situation. He commenced to apologize, but by the time he had reached, “Madam, it’s a mistake, “the door opened and in strode the husband and the clerk, armed with bootjacks and stove wood. For the next five minutes the Des Moiner was kept busy dodging the missiles fired at him by the infuriated pair, and at every shot the new wife would evoke another edition of yelps. Finally the representative of the capital city obtained a hearing long enough to explain, the husband explained, the clerk explained, the wife told him to “git,” and held the tongs before her eyes while he gathered up his wearing apparel and slid out of the door, and peace, sweet peace, came down over all. The clerk gave the Des Moines chap a shake-down in another room, and the play ended. Indianapolis {IN] Sentinel 6 December 1874: p. 7
Popping into the Wrong Bed—The Shortest Route to Matrimony.
Last week an interesting event occurred at one of the hotels in Pittsburg, Pa., a young lady from a neighboring town wen to the city for the purpose of meeting her betrothed, getting married, and going to the West to settle there. She was accompanied by her brother, who was to act as groomsman, and her lover’s sister, who was to be bridesmaid. The intended husband not arriving in time, the young ladies arranged that they should occupy the same bed in a room adjoining that of the bride’s brother. Having travelled all the night before, the bride and her brother being worn out, retired at an early hour, with instructions to their companion, whom they left reading in the ladies’ parlor, not to make a noise when she came to bed, as they did not want to be awakened out of their sleep. The young lady getting interested in her book, sat up to a late hour. At last, getting drowsy, she slipped off, noiselessly as possible to her room, and quietly retired, as she supposed to the bed occupied by her intended sister in law, and nestling close up alongside under the blankets, was soon sound asleep. Happening to awake before her companion, she put her arms around, as she supposed, the bride’s neck, commenced kissing her and calling her sweet sister and other endearing names peculiar to the softer sex. In a moment her kisses were paid back with interest, and she found two stalwart arms encircling her form, and instead of the bride’s she was in the bride’s brother’s arms. She had mistaken the room. Here was the dilemma, and not knowing how to explain, she commenced sobbing as if her heart would break, which awakened the bride, who came to the rescue. The young man, however, refused to let her go, saying that a fortunate accident had given him a prize and he was determined not to lose it, and on one condition only would he release the young lady from his grasp, and that was that she would put her arms around his neck and kiss him, and promise to become his wife at the same time his sister became the wife of her brother. He said that he had long loved her, and intended to ask her that day for her hand, and thanks to an accident, he had now a much better opportunity than he could ever hope for again. The young lady, seeing no alternative, finally threw her arms around the man’s neck and sealed the bargain with a kiss, when the young man covered up his head, and she retired to his sister’s room a promised bride. She enjoined secrecy upon the brother and sister, but the thing was too good to keep. Immediately after they got dressed the groom arrived, and, after getting breakfast, dispatched the landlord for a minister, who soon came and made the indissoluble knot.
As soon as the minister got through, the groomsman and bridesmaid astonished the company by taking the place of their brother and sister, and requested the minister to repeat the performance, which he did in less time than it takes to tell it. “What’s the meaning of all this?” asked groom number one, who seemed to be agreeably surprised by the scene just enacted. His new-made wife, now smiling all over, related to the company the incidents of the past night. Groom number two said it was all right; he didn’t care how many stories sister told; that he was the happiest man alive, and if his wife had shed tears that morning, they were the last she should shed, unless they were tears of joy, if he could prevent it; and she looked up at her husband, said she would never cry again when he put his arms around her, for now he was her own darling husband. The afternoon train, instead of one, carried two happy couples to homes in the West, where we hope that year after year, they will by couplets be blessed. Jamestown [NY] Journal 13 November 1868: p. 7
Filip sends these The Native Virginian, (Orange, Virginia) 8 Jan 1869, Fri • First Edition
The Sedalia Weekly Bazoo (Sedalia, Missouri)
17 Sep 1889, Tue • First Edition
Hayyim writes: This has actually happened to me… sort of. I live right near Boston College and many students live in my neighborhood. One morning I woke up and a young man was sleeping on my couch. He had apparently gotten very intoxicated and very confused and thought he was on the other end of the block (and all the houses look the same). Needless to say, I began locking my door at night after that. I contemplated contacting the authorities, at the time, but in the end, he just looked like a confused kid and I let him sleep off the night on the couch. We had breakfast together when he woke up, he apologized profusely for the intrusion, and came back a few days later with pastries to thank my wife and I for not calling the police on him.
I (Beach) just want to add that at college I had a similar experience. A fellow student somehow strayed into the room of a girl there. I suspect it was a mix of alcohol, desire and paralysis. It suited everyone, including the understandably screaming girl to say that it had been a mistake.
20 May 2016: Chris from Haunted Ohio Books, adding to one of our favourite legends:
10 June 2017: Southern Man sends these two stories in as inversions. Not sure but interesting….
Chris from Haunted Ohio Books, 12 Feb 2017:
A rather naughty version of The Wrong Bed urban legend: The Bloomfield times., September 15, 1874, Page 2,
