Why, did she believe I was alive then?
Amy. Yes, Sir, she always said, she believ’d you were alive; because she thought she should have heard something of you, if you had been dead.
Gent. Ay, ay, my Perplexity was very great, indeed, or else I had never gone away.
Amy. It was very cruel tho’, to the poor Lady, Sir, my Mistress; she almost broke her Heart for you at first, for fear of what might befal you, and at last, because she cou’d not hear from you.
Gent. Alas, Amy! what cou’d I do? things were driven to the last Extremity before I went; I cou’d have done nothing, but help starve them all, if I had stay’d; and besides, I cou’d not bear to see it.
Amy. You know, Sir, I can say little to what pass’d before, but I am a melancholly Witness to the sad Distresses of my poor Mistress, as long as I stay’d with her, and which would grieve your Heart to *hear them.
Gent. Well, Amy, I have heard enough so far; what did she do afterwards?
Amy. I can’t give you any farther Account, Sir; my Mistress would not let me stay with her any longer; she said, she could neither pay me, or subsist me; I told her, I wou’d serve her without any Wages, but I cou’d not live without Victuals, you know; so I was forc’d to leave her, poor Lady, sore against my Will, and I heard afterwards, that the Landlord seiz’d her Goods, so she was, I suppose, turn’d out of Doors; for as I went by the Door, about a Month after, I saw the House shut up; and about a Fortnight after that, I found there were Workmen at work, fitting it up, as I suppose, for a new Tennant; but none of the Neighbours could tell me what was become of my poor Mistress, only that they said, she was so poor, that it was next to begging; that some of the neighbouring Gentlefolks had reliev’d her, or that else she must have starv’d; then she went on, and told him, that after that, they never heard any more of [me] her Mistress; but that she had been seen once or twice in the City, very shabby, and poor in Cloaths, and it was thought she work’d with her Needle, for her Bread: All this, the Jade said with so much Cunning, and manag’d and humour’d it so well, and wip’d her Eyes, and cry’d so artificially, 108 that he took it all as it was intended he should, and once or twice she saw Tears in his Eyes too: He told her, it was a moving, melancholly Story, and it had almost broke his Heart at first; but that he was driven to the last Extremity, and cou’d do nothing, but stay and see ’em all starve, which he cou’d not bear the Thoughts of, but shou’d have Pistol’d himself, if any such thing had happen’d while he was there; that he left [me] his Wife, all the Money he had in the World, but 25 l. which was as little as he could take with him, to seek his Fortune in the World; he cou’d not doubt but that his Relations, seeing they were all Rich, wou’d have taken the poor Children off, and not let them come to the Parish; and that his Wife was young and handsome, and, he thought, might Marry again, perhaps; to her Advantage; and for that very Reason, he never wrote to her, or let her know he was alive, that she might, in a reasonable Term of Years, marry, and perhaps, mend her Fortunes: That he resolv’d never to claim her, because he should rejoice to hear, that she had settled to her Mind; and that he wish’d there had been a Law made, to empower a Woman to marry, if her Husband was not heard of in so long time; which time, he thought, shou’d not be above four Year,109 which was long enough to send Word in, to a Wife or Family, from any Part of the World.
Amy said, she cou’d say nothing to that; but this, that she was satisfied, her Mistress would marry no-body, unless she had certain Intelligence that he had been dead, from somebody that saw him buried; but alas! says Amy, my Mistress was reduc’d to such dismal Circumstances, that no-body wou’d be so foolish to think of her, unless it had been somebody to go a-begging with her.
Amy then seeing him so perfectly deluded, made a long and lamentable Outcry, how she had been deluded away, to marry a poor Footman; for he is no worse, or better, says she, tho’ he calls himself a Lord’s Gentleman; and here, says Amy, he has dragg’d me over into a strange Country, to make a Begger of me; and then she falls a howling again, and sniveling; which, by the way, was all Hypocrisie, but acted so to the Life, as perfectly deceiv’d him, and he gave entire Credit to every Word of it.
Why, Amy, says he, you are very well dress’d, you don’t look as if you were in danger of being a Begger; Ay, hang him, says Amy, they love to have fine Cloaths here, if they have never a Sm—k under them; but I love to have Money in Cash, rather than a Chest full of fine Cloaths; besides, Sir, says she, most of the Cloaths I have, were given me in the last Place I had, when I went away from my Mistress.
Upon the whole of the Discourse, Amy got out of him, what Condition he was in, and how he liv’d, upon her Promise to him, that if ever she came to England, and should see her old Mistress, she should not let her know that he was alive: Alas! Sir, says Amy, I may never come to see England again, as long as I live; and if I shou’d, it wou’d be ten Thousand to One, whether I shall see my old Mistress; for how shou’d I know which Way to look for her? or what Part of England she may be in; not I, says she, I don’t so much as know how to enquire for her; and if I shou’d, says Amy, ever be so happy as to see her, I would not do her so much Mischief as to tell her where you were, Sir, unless she was in a Condition to help herself and you too: This farther deluded him, and made him entirely open in his conversing with her: As to his own Circumstances, he told her, she saw him in the highest Preferment he had arriv’d to, or was ever like to arrive to; for, having no Friends or Acquaintance in France, and which was worse, no Money, he never expected to rise; that he could have been made a Lieutenant to a Troop of Light-Horse but the Week before, by the Favour of an Officer in the Gensd’arms, who was his Friend; but that he must have found 8000 Livres to have paid for it, to the Gentleman who possess’d it; and had Leave given him to sell: But where cou’d I get 8000 Livres, says he that have never been Master 0f 500 Livres Ready-Money, at a-time, since I came into France?
O Dear! Sir, says Amy, I am very sorry to hear you say so; I fancy if you once got up to some Preferment, you wou’d think of my old Mistress again, and do something for her; poor Lady, says Amy, she wants it, to be sure, and then she falls a-crying again; ’tis a sad thing, indeed, says she, that you should be so hard put to it for Money, when you had got a Friend to recommend you, and shou’d lose it for want of Money; ay, so it was, Amy, indeed, says he; but what can a Stranger do, that has neither Money or Friends? Here Amy puts in again on my Account; well, says she, my poor Mistress has had the Loss, tho’ she knows nothing of it; O dear! how happy it would have been, to be sure, Sir, you wou’d have help’d her all you cou’d; Ay, says he, Amy, so I wou’d, with all my Heart; and even as I am, I wou’d send her some Relief, if I thought she wanted it; only, that then letting her know I was alive, might do her some Prejudice, in case of her settling, or marrying any-body.
Alas! says Amy, Marry! who will marry her, in the poor Condition she is in? And so their Discourse ended for that Time.
All this was meer Talk on both Sides, and Words of Course; for on farther Enquiry, Amy found, that he had no such Offer of a Lieutenant’s Commission, or any thing like it; and that he rambled in his Discourse, from one thing to another: But of that in its Place.
You may be sure, that this Discourse, as Amy at first related it, was moving, to the last Degree, upon me; and I was once going to have sent him the 8000 Livres, to purchase the Commission he had spoken of; but as I knew his Character better than any-body, I was willing to search a little farther into it; and so I set Amy to enquire of some other of the Troop, to see what Character he had, and whether there was any-thing in the Story of a Lieutenant’s Commission, or no.
But Amy soon came to a better Understanding of him; for she presently learnt, that he had a most scoundrel Character; that there was nothing of Weight in any thing he said; but that he was, in short, a meer Sharper; one that would stick at nothing to get Money, and that there was no depending on any thing he said; and that, more especially, about the Lieutenant’s Commission, she understood, that there was nothing at-all in it; but they told her, how he had often made use of that Sham, to borrow Money, and move Gentlemen to pity him, and lend him Money, in hopes to get him Preferment; that he had re ported, that he had a Wife, and five Children, in England, who he maintain’d out of his Pay; and by these Shifts110 had run into Debt in several Places; and upon several Complaints for such things, he had been threatened to be turn’d out of the Gensd’arms; and that, in short, he was not to be believ’d in any thing he said, or trusted on any Account.
Upon this Information, Amy began to cool in her farther meddling with him; and told me, it was not safe for me to attempt doing him any Good, unless I resolv’d to put him upon Suspicions and Enquiries, which might be to my Ruin, in the Condition I was now in.
I was soon confirm’d in this Part of his Character; for the next time that Amy came to talk with him, he discover’d himself more effectually; for while she had put him in Hopes of procuring One to advance the Money for the Lieutenant’s Commission for him, upon easie Conditions, he by Degrees, dropt the Discourse, then pretended it was too late, and that he could not get it; and then descended to ask poor Amy to lend him 500 Pistoles.
Amy pretended Poverty; that her Circumstances were but mean; and that she cou’d not raise such a Sum; and this she did, to try him to the utmost; he descended to 300, then to 100, then to 50, and then to a Pistole, which she lent him, and he never intending to pay it, play’d out of her Sight, as much as he cou’d; and thus being satisfied that he was the same worthless Thing he had ever been, I threw off all Thoughts of him; whereas, had he been a Man of any Sence, and of any Principle of Honour, I had it in my Thoughts to retire to England again, send for him over, and have liv’d honestly with him: But as a Fool is the worst of Husbands to do a Woman Good, so a Fool is the worst Husband a Woman can do Good to: I wou’d willingly have done him Good, but he was not qualified to receive it, or make the best Use of it; had I sent him ten Thousand Crowns, instead of eight Thousand Livres,111 and sent it with express Condition, that he should immediately have bought himself the Commission he talk’d of, with Part of the Money, and have sent some of it to relieve the Necessities of his poor miserable Wife at London, and to prevent his Children to be kept by the Parish, it was evident, he wou’d have been still but a private Trooper, and his Wife and Children should still have starv’d at London, or been kept of meer Charity, as, for ought he knew, they then were.
Seeing therfore, no Remedy, I was oblig’d to withdraw my Hand from him, that had been my first Destroyer, and reserve the Assistance that I intended to have given him, for another more desirable Opportunity; all that I had now to do, was to keep myself out of his Sight, which was not very difficult for me to do, considering in what Station he liv’d.
Amy and I had several Consultations then, upon the main Question, namely, how to be sure never to chop upon112 him again, by Chance, and so be surpriz’d into a Discovery; which would have been a fatal Discovery indeed: Amy propos’d, that we shou’d always take Care to know where the Gensd’arms were quarter’d, and thereby effectually avoid them; and this was one Way.
But this was not so as to be fully to my Satisfaction; no ordinary Way of enquiring where the Gensd’arms were quarter’d, were sufficient to me; but I found out a Fellow, who was compleatly qualified for the Work of a Spy, (for France has Plenty of such People,) this Man I employ’d to be a constant and particular Attendant upon his Person and Motions; and he was especially employ’d, and order’d to haunt him as a Ghost; that he should scarce let him be ever out of his Sight; he perform’d this to a Nicety, and fail’d not to give me a perfect Journal of all his Motions, from Day to Day; and whether for his Pleasures, or his Business, was always at his Heels.
This was somewhat expensive, and such a Fellow merited to be well paid; but he did his Business so exquisitely punctual, that this poor Man scarce went out of the House, without my knowing the Way he went, the Company he kept, when he went Abroad, and when he stay’d at Home.
By this extraordinary Conduct I made myself safe, and so went out in publick, or stay’d at-home, as I found he was, or was not, in a Possibility of being at Paris, at Versailles, or any Place I had Occasion to be at: This, tho’ it was very chargeable,113 yet as I found it absolutely necessary, so I took no Thought about the Expence of it; for I knew I cou’d not purchase my Safety too dear.
By this Management I found an Opportunity to see what a most insignificant, unthinking Life, the poor indolent Wretch, who by his unactive Temper had at first been my Ruin, now liv’d; how he only rose in the Morning, to go to-Bed at Night; that saving the necessary Motion of the Troops, which he was oblig’d to attend, he was a meer motionless Animal, of no Consequence in the World; that he seem’d to be one, who, tho’ he was indeed alive, had no manner of Business in Life, but to stay to be call’d out of it; he neither kept any Company, minded any Sport, play’d at any Game, or indeed, did any thing of moment; but, in short, saunter’d about, like one, that it was not two Livres Value whether he was dead or alive; that when he was gone, would leave no Remembrance behind him that ever he was here; that if ever he did any thing in the World to be talk’d of, it was, only to get114 five Beggers, and starve his Wife: The Journal of his Life, which I had constantly sent me every Week, was the least significant of any-thing of its Kind, that was ever seen; as it had really nothing of Earnest in it, so it wou’d make no Jest, to relate it; it was not important enough, so much as to make the Reader merry withal; and for that Reason I omit it.
Yet this Nothing-doing Wretch was I oblig’d to watch and guard against, as against the only thing that was capable of doing me Hurt in the World, I was to shun him, as we wou’d shun a Spectre, or even the Devil, if he was actually in our Way; and it cost me after the Rate of a 150 Livres a Month, and very cheap too, to have this Creature constantly kept in View; that is to say, my Spy undertook, never to let him be out of his Sight an Hour, but so as that he cou’d give an Account of him; which was much the easier to be done, considering his Way of Living; for he was sure, that for whole Weeks together, he wou’d be ten Hours of the Day, half asleep on a Bench at the Tavern-Door where he quarter’d, or drunk within the House.
Tho’ this wicked Life he led, sometimes mov’d me to pity him, and to wonder how so well-bred, Gentlemanly a Man as he once was, could degenerate into such a useless thing, as he now appear’d; yet, at the same time, it gave me most contemptible Thoughts of him, and made me often say, I was a Warning for all the Ladies of Europe, against marrying of FOOLS; a Man of Sence falls in the World, and gets-up again, and a Woman has some Chance for herself; but with a FOOL! once fall, and ever undone; once in the Ditch, and die in the Ditch; once poor, and sure to starve.
But ’tis time to have done with him; once I had nothing to hope for, but to see him again; now my only Felicity was, if possible, never to see him, and, above all, to keep him from seeing me; which, as above, I took effectual Care of.
I was now return’d to Paris; my little Son of Honour, as I cali’d him, was left at —, where my last Country Seat then was, and I came to Paris, at the Prince’s Request; thither he came to me as soon as I arriv’d, and told me, he came to give me Joy of my Return, and to make his Acknowledgments, for that I had given him a SON: I thought indeed, he had been going to give me a Present, and so he did the next Day, but in what he said then, he only jested with me: He gave me his Company all the Evening; Supp’d with me about Midnight, and did me the Honour, as I then call’d it, to lodge me in his Arms all the Night, telling me, in jest, that the best Thanks for a Son born, was giving the Pledge for another.
But as I hinted, so it was, the next Morning he laid me down, on my Toilet, a Purse with 300 Pistoles: I saw him lay it down, and understood what he meant, but I took no Notice of it, till I came to it (as it were) casually; then I gave a great Cry-out, and fell a-scolding in my Way, for he gave me all possible Freedom of Speech, on such Occasions: I told him, he was unkind; that he would never give me an Opportunity to ask him for any thing; and that he forc’d me to Blush, by being too much oblig’d, and the like; all which I knew was very agreeable to him; for as he was Bountiful, beyond Measure, so he was infinitely oblig’d by my being so backward to ask any Favours; and I was even with him, for I never ask’d him for a Farthing in my Life.
Upon this rallying him, he told me, I had either perfectly studied the Art of Humour, or else, what was the greatest Difficulty to others, was Natural to me; adding, That nothing cou’d be more obliging to a Man of Honour, than not to be sollicing and craving.
I told him, nothing cou’d be craving upon him; that he left no room for it; that I hop’d he did not give, meerly to avoid the Trouble of being importun’d; I told him, he might depend upon it, that I should be reduc’d very low indeed, before I offer’d to disturb him that Way.
He said, a Man of Honour ought always to know what he ought to do; and as he did nothing but what he knew was reasonable, he gave me Leave to be free with him, if I wanted any thing; that he had too much Value for me, to deny me any thing, if I ask’d; but that it was infinitely agreeable to him to hear me say, that what he did, was to my Satisfaction.
We strain’d Compliments thus a great while, and as he had me in his Arms most Part of the Time, so upon all my Expressions of his Bounty to me, he put a Stop to me with his Kisses, and wou’d admit me to go on no farther.
I should in this Place mention, that this Prince was not a Subject of France, tho’ at that Time he resided at Paris, and was much at Court, where, I suppose, he had or expected some considerable Employment: But I mention it on this Account; that a few Days after this, he came to me, and told me, he was come to bring me not the most welcome News that ever I heard from him in his Life; I look’d at him, a little surpriz’d; but he return’d, Do not be uneasie, it is as unpleasant to me, as to you, but I come to consult with you about it, and see, if it cannot be made a little easie to us both.
I seem’d still more concern’d, and surpriz’d; at last he said, it was, that he believ’d he should be oblig’d to go into Italy; which tho’ otherwise it was very agreeable to him, yet his parting with me, made it a very dull thing but to think of.
I sat mute, as one Thunder-struck, for a good-while; and it presantly occur’d to me, that I was going to lose him, which, indeed, I cou’d but ill bear the Thoughts of; and as he told me, I turn’d pale: What’s the Matter? said he, hastily; I have surpriz’d you, indeed; and stepping to the Side-Board, fills a Dram of Cordial-Water,115 (which was of his own bringing) and comes to me, Be not surpriz’d, said he, I’ll go no-where without you; adding several other things so kind, as nothing could exceed it.
I might, indeed, turn pale, for I was very much surpriz’d at first, believing that this was, as it often happens in such Cases, only a Project to drop me, and break off an Amour, which he had now carried on so long; and a thousand Thoughts whirl’d about my Head in the few Moments while I was kept in suspence; (for they were but a few) I say, I was indeed, surpriz’d, and might, perhaps, look pale; but I was not in any Danger of Fainting, that I knew of.
However, it not a little pleas’d me, to see him so concern’d and anxious about me; but I stopp’d a little, when he put the Cordial to my Mouth, and taking the Glass in my Hand, I said, My Lord, your Words are infinitely more of a Cordial to me, than this Citron;116 for as nothing can be a greater Affliction, than to lose you, so nothing can be a greater Satisfaction than the Assurance, that I shall not have that Misfortune.
He made me sit down, and sat down by me, and after saying a thousand kind things to me; he turns upon me, with a Smile, Why, will you venture yourself to Italy with me? says he; I stopp’d a-while, and then answer’d, that I wonder’d he would ask me that Question; for I would go any-where in the World, or all over the World, wherever he shou’d desire me, and give me the Felicity of his Company.
Then he enter’d into a long Account of the Occasion of his Journey, and how the King had Engag’d him to go, and some other Circumstances, which are not proper to enter into here; it being by no means proper to say anything, that might lead the Reader into the least Guess at the Person.
But to cut short this Part of the Story, and the History of our Journey, and Stay abroad, which would almost fill up a Volume of itself, I say, we spent all that Evening in chearful Consultations about the Manner of our Travelling; the Equipage and Figure he shou’d go in; and in what Manner I shou’d go: Several Ways were propos’d, but none seem’d feasible; till, at last, I told him, I thought it wou’d be so troublesome, so expensive, and so publick, that it wou’d be many Ways inconvenient to him; and tho’ it was a kind of Death to me, to lose him, yet that rather than so very much perplex his Affairs, I wou’d submit to any-thing.
At the next Visit I fill’d his Head with the same Difficulties, and then, at last, came over him with a Proposal, that I wou’d stay in Paris, or where else he shou’d direct; and when I heard of his safe Arrival, wou’d come away by myself, and place myself as near him as I cou’d.
This gave him no Satisfaction at-all; nor wou’d he hear any more of it; but if I durst venture myself, as he call’d it, such a Journey, he wou’d not lose the Satisfaction of my Company; and as for the Expence, that was not to be nam’d, neither, indeed, was there room to name it; for I found, that he travell’d at the KING’S Expence, as well for himself, as for all his Equipage; being upon a Piece of secret Service of the last Importance.
But after several Debates between ourselves, he came to this Resulution, viz. that he wou’d travel Incognito, and so he shou’d avoid all publick Notice, either of himself, or of who went with him; and that then he shou’d not only carry me with him, but have a perfect Leisure of enjoying my agreeable Company, (as he was pleas’d to call it) all the Way.
This was so obliging, that nothing cou’d be more; so upon this Foot, he immediately set to Work to prepare things for his Journey; and by his Directions, so did I too: But now I had a terrible Difficulty upon me, and which way to get over it, I knew not; and that was, in what Manner to take Care of what I had to leave behind me; I was Rich, as I have said, very Rich, and what to do with it, I knew not, nor who to leave in Trust, I knew not; I had no-body but Amy, in the World, and to travel without Amy, was very uncomfortable; or to leave all I had in the World with her, and if she miscarried, be ruin’d at once, was still a frightful Thought; for Amy might die, and whose Hands things might fall into, I knew not: This gave me great Uneasiness, and I knew not what to do; for I could not mention it to the Prince, lest he should see that I was richer than he thought I was.
But the Prince made all this easie to me; for in concerting Measures for our Journey, he started the thing himself, and ask’d me merrily one Evening, who I wou’d trust with all my Wealth, in my Absence?
My Wealth, my Lord, said I, except what I owe to your Goodness, is but small; but yet, that little I have, I confess, causes some Thoughtfulness; because I have no Acquaintance in Paris, that I dare trust with it, nor anybody but my Woman, to leave in the House; and how to do without her upon the Road, I do not well know.
As to the Road, be not concern’d, says the Prince, I’ll provide you Servants to your Mind; and as for your Woman, if you can trust her, leave her here, and I’ll put you in a Way how to secure things, as well as if you were at Home: I bow’d, and told him, I cou’d not be put into better hands than his own, and that therefore, I wou’d govern all my Measures by his Directions; so we talk’d no more of it that Night.
The next Day he sent me in a great Iron Chest, so large, that it was as much as six lusty Fellows could get up the Steps, into the House; and in this I put, indeed, all my Wealth; and for my Safety, he order’d a good honest ancient Man and his Wife, to be in the House with her, to keep her Company, and a Maid-Servant, and Boy; so that there was a good Family, and Amy was Madam, the Mistress of the House.
Things being thus secur’d, we set out Incog.117 as he call’d it; but we had two Coaches and Six Horses; two Chaises; and about eight Men-Servants on Horseback, all very well Arm’d.
Never was woman better us’d in this World, that went upon no other Account than I did; I had three Women-Servants to wait on me, one whereof was an old Madam —, who thorowly understood her Business, and manag’d every thing, as if she had been Major Domo; so I had no Trouble; they had one Coach to themselves, and the Prince and I in the other; only that sometimes, where he knew it necessary, I went into their Coach; and one particular Gentleman of the Retinue rode with him.
I shall say no more of the Journey, than that when we came to those frightful Mountains, the Alps; there was no travelling in our Coaches, so he order’d a Horse-Litter, but carried by Mules, to be provided for me, and himself went on Horseback; the Coaches went some other Way back to Lyons; then we had coaches hir’d at Turin, which met us at Susa; so that we were accommodated again, and went by easie Journeys afterwards, to Rome, where his Business, whatever it was, call’d him to stay some time; and from thence to Venice.
He was as good as his Word, indeed; for I had the Pleasure of his Company, and in a word, engross’d his Conversation almost all the Way: He took Delight in showing me every thing that was to be seen, and particularly, in telling me something of the History of every thing he show’d me.
What valuable Pains were here thrown away upon One, who he was sure, at last, to abandon with Regret! How below himself, did a Man of Quality, and of a thousand Accomplishments, behave in all this! ’Tis one of my Reasons for entring into this Part, which otherwise wou’d not be worth relating: Had I been a Daughter, or a Wife, of whom it might be said, that he had a just Concern in their Instruction, or Improvement, it had been an admirable Step; but all this to a Whore! to one who he carried with him upon no Account, that could be rationally agreeable; and none but to gratifie the meanest of humane Frailties: This was the Wonder of it.
But such is the Power of a vicious Inclination; Whoring was, in a Word, his Darling Crime; the worst Excursion he made; for he was otherwise, one of the most excellent Persons in the World; no Passions; no furious Excursions;118 no ostentatious Pride; the most humble, courteous, affable Person in the World; not an Oath; not an indecent Word, or the least Blemish in Behaviour, was to be seen in all his Conversation, except as before excepted; and it has given me Occasion for many dark Reflections since; to look back and think, that I should be the Snare of such a Person’s Life; that I should influence him to so much Wickedness; and that I should be the Instrument in the Hand of the Devil, to do him so much Prejudice.
We were near two Year upon this Grand Tour, as it may be call’d, during most of which, I resided at Rome, or at Venice, having only been twice at Florence, and once at Naples: I made some very diverting and useful Observations in all these Places; and particularly, of the Conduct of the Ladies; for I had Opportunity to converse very much among them, by the Help of the old Witch that travell’d with us; she had been at Naples, and at Venice, and had liv’d in the former, several Years, where, as I found, she had liv’d but a loose Life, as indeed, the Women of Naples generally do; and, in short, I found she was fully acquainted with all the intrieguing Arts of that Part of the World.
Here my Lord bought me a little Female Turkish Slave, who being Taken at Sea by a Malthese Man of War, was brought in there; and of her I learnt the Turkish Language; their Way of Dressing, and Dancing, and some Turkish, or rather Moorish Songs, of which I made Use, to my Advantage, on an extraordinary Occasion, some Years after, as you shall hear in its Place. I need not say I learnt Italian too, for I got pretty well Mistress of that, before I had been there a Year; and as I had Leisure enough, and lov’d the Language, I read all the Italian Books I cou’d come at.
I began to be so in Love with Italy, especially with Naples and Venice, that I cou’d have been very well satisfied to have sent for Amy, and have taken up my Residence there for Life.
As to Rome, I did not like it at-all: The Swarms of Ecclesiasticks of all Kinds, on one side, and the scoundrel Rabbles of the Common People, on the other, make Rome the unpleasantest Place in the World, to live in; the innumerable Number of Valets, Lacqueys, and other Servants, is such, that they us’d to say, that there are very few of the Common People in Rome, but what have been Footmen, or Porters, or Grooms to Cardinals, or Foreign Ambassadors: In a Word, they have an Air of sharping and couzening,119 quarrelling and scolding, upon their general Behaviour; and when I was there, the Footmen made such a Broil between two Great Families in Rome, about which of their Coaches (the Ladies being in the Coaches on either side,) shou’d give Way to t’other; that there was above thirty People wounded on both Sides; five or six kill’d outright; and both the Ladies frighted almost to Death.
But I have no-Mind to write the History of my Travels on this side of the World, at least, not now; it would be too full of Variety.
I must not, however, omit, that the Prince continued in all this Journey, the most kind, obliging Person to me, in the World, and so constant, that tho’ we were in a Country, where ’tis well known all manner of Liberties are taken, I am yet well assur’d, he neither took the Liberty he knew he might have, or so much as desir’d it.
I have often thought of this Noble Person, on that Account; had he been but half so true, so faithful and constant to the Best Lady in the World, I mean his Princess; how glorious a Virtue had it been in him? and how free had he been from those just Reflections which touch’d him, in her behalf, when it was too late.
We had some very agreeable Conversations upon this Subject; and once he told me, with a kind of more than ordinary Concern upon his Thoughts, that he was greatly beholden to me for taking this hazardous and difficult Journey; for that I had kept him Honest; I look’d up in his Face, and colour’d as red as Fire: Well, well, says he, do not let that surprize you; I do say, you have kept me Honest: My Lord, said I, ’tis not for me to explain your Words, but I wish I cou’d turn ’em my own Way; I hope, says I, and believe, we are both as Honest as we can be, in our Circumstances; ay, ay, says he, and honester than I doubt I shou’d have been, if you had not been with me; I cannot say but if you had not been here, I shou’d have wander’d among the gay World here, in Naples, and in Venice too; for ’tis not such a Crime here, as ’tis in other Places; but I protest, says he, I have not touch’d a Woman in Italy, but yourself; and more than that, I have not so much as had any Desire to it; so that, I say, you have kept me Honest.
I was silent, and was glad that he interrupted me, or kept me from speaking, with kissing me, for really I knew not what to say: I was once going to say, that if his Lady, the Princess, had been with him, she wou’d, doubtless, have had the same Influence upon his Virtue, with infinitely more Advantage to him; but I consider’d this might give him Offence; and besides, such things might have been dangerous to the Circumstance I stood in, so it pass’d off: But I must confess, I saw that he was quite another Man, as to Women, than I understood he had always been before; and it was a particular Satisfaction to me, that I was thereby convinc’d that what he said, was true, and that he was, as I may say, all my Own.
I was with-Child again in this Journey, and Lay-in at Venice, but was not so happy as before; I brought him another Son, and a very fine Boy it was, but it liv’d not above two Months; nor, after the first Touches of Affection (which are usual, I believe, to all Mothers) were over, was I sorry the Child did not live, the necessary Difficulties attending it in our travelling, being consider’d.
After these several Perambulations, my Lord told me, his Business began to close, and we wou’d think of returning to France; which I was very glad of, but principally on Account of my Treasure I had there, which, as you have heard, was very considerable: It is true, I had Letters very frequently from my Maid Amy, with Accounts, that every thing was very safe, and that was very much to my Satisfaction: However, as the Prince’s Negociations were at an End, and he was oblig’d to return, I was very glad to go; so we return’d from Venice to Turin; and in the Way, I saw the famous City of Milan; from Turin, we went over the Mountains again, as before, and our Coaches met us at Pont a Voisin,120 between Chamberry and Lyons; and so, by easie Journeys, we arriv’d safely at Paris, having been absent about two Years, wanting about eleven Days, as above.
I found the little Family we left, just as we left them; and Amy cry’d for Joy, when she saw me, and I almost did the same.
The Prince took his Leave of me the Night before; for as he told me, he knew he shou’d be met upon the Road by several Persons of Quality, and perhaps, by the Princess herself; so we lay at two different Inns that Night, lest some shou’d come quite to the Place, as indeed, it happen’d.
After this, I saw him not, for above twenty Days, being taken-up in his Family, and also with Business; but he sent me his Gentleman, to tell me the Reason of it; and bid me not be uneasie; and that satisfied me effectually.
In all this Affluence of my Good Fortune, I did not forget that I had been Rich and Poor once already, alternately; and that I ought to know, that the Circumstances I was now in, were not to be expected to last always; that I had one Child, and expected another; and if I bred often, it wou’d something impair me in the Great Article that supported my Interest, I mean, what he call’d Beauty; that as that declin’d, I might expect the Fire wou’d abate, and the Warmth with which I was now so carress’d, wou’d cool, and in time, like the other Mistresses of Great Men, I might be dropt again; and that, therefore, it was my Business to take Care that I shou’d fall as softly as I cou’d.
I say, I did not forget, therefore, to make as good Provision for myself, as if I had had nothing to have subsisted on, but what I now gain’d; whereas I had not less than ten Thousand Pounds, as I said above, which I had amass’d, or secur’d, rather out of the Ruins of my faithful Friend, the Jeweller; and which, he little thinking of what was so near him when he went out, told me, tho’ in a kind of a Jest, was all my own, if he was knock’d o’th’ Head; and which, upon that Title, I took Care to preserve.
My greatest Difficulty now, was, how to secure my Wealth, and to keep what I had got; for I had greatly added to this Wealth, by the generous Bounty of the Prince —, and the more, by the private retir’d Manner of Living, which he rather desir’d for Privacy, than Parsimony; for he supply’d me for a more magnificent Way of Life than I desir’d, if it had been proper.
I shall cut short the History of this properous Wickedness, with telling you I brought him a third Son, with in little more than eleven Months after our Return from Italy; that now I liv’d a little more openly, and went by a particular Name which he gave me Abroad; but which I must omit: viz. the Countess de —, and had Coaches, and Servants, suitable to the Quality he had given me the Appearance of; and which is more than usually happens in such Cases, this held eight Years from the Beginning; during which Time, as I had been very faithful to him, so, I must say, as above, that I believe he was so separated to me, that whereas he usually had two or three Women, which he kept privately, he had not in all that Time meddled with any of them, but that I had so perfectly engross’d him, that he dropt them all; not, perhaps, that he sav’d much by it, for I was a very chargable Mistress to him, that I must acknowledge; but it was all owing to his particular Affection to me, not to my Extravagance; for, as I said, he never gave me leave to ask him for any thing, but pour’d in his Favours and Presents faster than I expected, and so fast, as I could not have the Assurance to make the least Mention of desiring more.
Nor do I speak this of my own Guess, I mean, about his Constancy to me, and his quitting all other Women; but the old Harradan, as I may call her, who he made the Guide of our Travelling, and who was a strange old Creature, told me a Thousand Stories of his Gallantry, as she call’d it, and how, as he had no less than three Mistresses at one time, and, as I found, all of her procuring, he had of a sudden, dropt them all, and that he was entirely lost to both her and them; that they did believe he had fallen into some new Hands, but she could never hear who, or where, till he sent for her to go this Journey; and then the old Hag complimented me upon his Choice, That she did not wonder I had so engross’d him; so much Beauty, &c. and there she stopt.
Upon the whole, I found by her, what was, you may be sure, to my particular Satisfaction, viz. that, as above, I had him all my own.
But the highest Tide has its Ebb; and in all things of this Kind, there is a Reflux which sometimes also is more impetuously violent than the first Aggression: My Prince was a Man of a vast Fortune, tho’ no Sovereign, and therefore there was no Probability that the Expence of keeping a Mistress could be injurious to him, as to his Estate; he had also several Employments, both out of France, as well as in it; for, as above, I say, he was not a Subject of France, tho’ he liv’d in that Court: He had a Princess, a Wife, with whom he had liv’d several Years, and a Woman (so the Voice of Fame reported) the most valuable of her Sex; of Birth equal to him, if not superior, and of Fortune proportionable; but in Beauty, Wit, and a thousand good Qualities, superiour not to most Women, but even to all her Sex; and as to her Virtue, the Character, which was most justly her due, was that of, not only the best of Princesses, but even the best of Women.
They liv’d in the utmost Harmony, as with such a Princess it was impossible to be otherwise; but yet the Princess was not insensible that her Lord had his Foibles; that he did make some Excursions; and particularly, that he had one Favourite Mistress which sometimes engross’d him more than she (the Princess) cou’d wish, or be easily satisfied with: However, she was so good, so generous, so truly kind a Wife, that she never gave him any Uneasiness on this Account; except so much as must arise from his Sence of her bearing the Affront of it with such Patience, and such a profound Respect for him, as was in itself enough to have reform’d him, and did sometimes shock his generous Mind, so as to keep him at Home, as I may call it, a great-while together; and it was not long before I not only perceiv’d it by his Absence, but really got a Knowledge of the Reason of it, and once or twice he even acknowleg’d it to me.
It was a Point that lay not in me to manage; I made a kind of Motion, once or twice, to him, to leave me, and keep himself to her, as he ought by the Laws and Rites of Matrimony to do, and argued the Generosity of the Princess to him, to perswade him; but I was a Hypocrite; for had I prevail’d with him really to be honest, I had lost him, which I could not bear the Thoughts of; and he might easily see I was not in earnest; one time in particular, when I took upon me to talk at this rate, I found when I argued so much for the Virtue and Honour, the Birth, and above all, the generous Usage he found in the Person of the Princess, with respect to his private Amours, and how it should prevail upon him, &c. I found it began to affect him, and he return’d, And do you indeed, says he, perswade me to leave you? Would you have me think you sincere? I look’d up in his Face, smiling, Not for any other Favourite, my Lord, said I; that wou’d break my Heart; but for Madam, the Princess! said I, and then I could say no more, Tears follow’d, and I sat silent a-while: Well, said he, if ever I do leave you, it shall be on the Virtuous Account; it shall be for the Princess, I assure you it shall be for no other Woman; That’s enough, my Lord, said I, There I ought to submit; and while I am assur’d it shall be for no other Mistress, I promise Your Highness, I will not repine; or that, if I do, it shall be a silent Grief, it shall not interrupt your Felicity.
All this while I said I knew not what, and said what I was no more able to do, than he was able to leave me; which, at that time, he own’d he cou’d not do, no, not for the Princess herself.
But another Turn of Affairs determin’d this Matter; for the Princess was taken very ill, and in the Opinion of all her Physicians, very dangerously so; in her Sickness she desir’d to speak with her Lord, and to take her Leave of him: At this grievous Parting, she said so many passionate kind Things to him; lamented that she had left him no Children; she had had three, but they were dead; hinted to him, that it was one of the chief things which gave her Satisfaction in Death, as to this World; that she should leave him room to have Heirs to his Family, by some Princess that should supply her Place; with all Humility, but with a Christian Earnestness, recom mended to him to do Justice to such Princess, whoever it should be, from whom, to be sure, he would expect Justice; that is to say, to keep to her singly, according to the solemnest Part of the Marriage-Covenant; humbly ask’d his Highness Pardon, if she had any way offended him; and appealing to Heaven, before whose Tribunal she was to appear, that she had never violated her Honour, or her Duty to him; and praying to Jesus, and the Blessed Virgin, for his Highness; and thus with the most moving, and most passionate Expressions of her Affection to him, took her last Leave of him, and died the next Day.
This Discourse from a Princess so valuable in herself, and so dear to him; and the Loss of her following so immediately after, made such deep Impressions on him, that he look’d back with Detestation upon the former Part of his Life; grew melancholly and reserv’d; chang’d his Society, and much of the general Conduct of his Life; resolv’d on a Life regulated most strictly by the Rules of Virtue, and Piety; and in a word, was quite another Man.
The first Part of his Reformation, was a Storm121 upon me; for, about ten Days after the Princess’s Funeral, he sent a Message to me by his Gentleman, intimating, tho’ in very civil Terms, and with a short Preamble, or Introduction, that he desir’d I wou’d not take it ill that he was oblig’d to let me know, that he could see me no more: His Gentleman told me a long Story of the new Regulation of Life his Lord had taken up, and that he had been so afflicted for the Loss of his Princess, that he thought it would either shorten his Life, or he wou’d retire into some Religious House, to end his Days in Solitude.
I need not direct any-body to suppose how I receiv’d this News; I was indeed, exceedingly surpriz’d at it, and had much a-do to support myself, when the first Part of it was deliver’d; tho’ the Gentleman deliver’d his Errand with great Respect, and with all the Regard to me, that he was able, and with a great deal of Ceremony; also telling me how much he was concern’d to bring me such a Message.
But when I heard the Particulars of the Story at large, and especially, that of the Lady’s Discourse to the Prince, a little before her Death, I was fully satisfied; I knew very well he had done nothing but what any Man must do, that had a true Sence upon him of the Justice of the Princess’s Discourse to him, and of the Necessity there was of his altering his Course of Life, if he intended to be either a Christian, or an honest Man: I say, when I heard this, I was perfectly easie; I confess it was a Circumstance that it might be reasonably expected shou’d have wrought something also upon me: I that had so much to reflect upon more, than the Prince; that had now no more Temptation of Poverty, or of the powerful Motive, which Amy us’d with me, namely, Comply and live; deny and starve; I say, I that had no Poverty to introduce Vice, but was grown not only well supply’d, but Rich, and not only Rich, but was very Rich; in a word, richer than I knew how to think of; for the Truth of it was, that thinking of it sometimes, almost distracted me, for want of knowing how to dispose of it, and for fear of losing it all again by some Cheat or Trick, not knowing any-body that I could commit the Trust of it to.
Besides I should add at the Close of this Affair, that the Prince did not, as I may say, turn me off rudely, and with Disgust; but with all the Decency and Goodness peculiar to himself, and that could consist with a Man reform’d, and struck with the Sence of his having abus’d so good a Lady as his late Princess had been; nor did he send me away empty, but did every thing like himself; and in particular, order’d his Gentleman to pay the Rent of the House, and all the Expence of his two Sons; and to tell me how they were taken Care of, and where; and also, that I might, at all times, inspect the Usage they had, and if I dislik’d any thing, it should be rectifid; and having thus finish’d every thing, he retir’d into Lorrain, or somewhere that Way, where he had an Estate, and I never heard of him more, I mean, not as a Mistress.
Now I was at Liberty to go to any Part of the World, and take Care of my Money myself; The first thing that I resolv’d to do, was to go directly to England, for there, I thought, being among my Countryfolks, (for I esteem’d myself an English-Woman, tho’ I was born in France,) but there, I say, I thought I cou’d better manage things, than in France, at least, that I would be in less Danger of being circumvented and deceiv’d; but how to get away with such a Treasure as I had with me, was a difficult Point, and what I was greatly at a Loss about.
There was a Dutch merchant in Paris, that was a Person of great Reputation for a Man of Substance, and of Honesty, but I had no manner of Acquaintance with him, nor did I know how to get acquainted with him, so as to discover my Circumstances to him; but at last I employ’d my Maid Amy, such I must be allow’d to call her, (notwithstanding what has been said of her) because she was in the Place of a Maid-Servant; I say, I employ’d my Maid Amy to go to him, and she got a Recommendation to him from somebody else, I knew not who; so that she got Access to him well enough.
But now was my Case as bad as before; for when I came to him, what cou’d I do? I had Money and Jewels, to a vast Value, and I might leave all those with him; that I might indeed, do; and so I might with several other Merchants in Paris, who wou’d give me Bills for it, payable at London, but then I ran a Hazard of my Money; and I had no-body at London to send the Bills to, and so to stay till I had an Account that they were accepted; for I had not one Friend in London, that I cou’d have recourse to, so that, indeed, I knew not what to do.
In this Case I had no Remedy, but that I must trust somebody; so I sent Amy to this Dutch Merchant, as I said above; he was a little surpriz’d when Amy came to him, and talk’d to him of remitting a Sum of about 12000 Pistoles122 to England, and began to think she came to put some Cheat upon him; but when he found that Amy was but a Servant, and that I came to him myself, the Case was alter’d presently.
When I came to him myself, I presently saw such a plainness in his Dealing, and such Honesty in his Countenance, that I made no Scruple to tell him my whole Story, viz. That I was a Widow; that I had some Jewels to dispose of, and also some Money, which I had a-mind to send to England, and to follow there myself; but being but a Woman, and having no Correspondence in London, or any-where else, I knew not what to do, or how to secure my Effects.
He dealt very candidly with me, but advis’d me, when he knew my Case so particularly, to take Bills upon Amsterdam, and to go that Way to England; for that I might lodge my Treasure in the Bank there, in the most secure Manner in the World; and that there he cou’d recommend me to a Man who perfectly understood Jewels, and would deal faithfully with me in the disposing them.
I thank’d him, but scrupled very much the travelling so far in a strange Country, and especially with such a Treasure about me; that whether known, or conceal’d, I did not know how to venture with it: Then he told me, he wou’d try to dispose of them there, that is, at Paris, and convert them into Money, and so get me Bills for the whole; and in a few Days he brought a Jew to me, who pretended123 to buy the Jewels.
As soon as the yea; saw the Jewels, I saw my Folly; and it was ten Thousand to one but I had been ruin’d, and perhaps, put to Death in as cruel a Manner as possible; and I was put in such Fright by it, that I was once upon the Point of flying for my Life, and leaving the Jewels and Money too, in the Hands of the Dutchman, without any Bills, or any thing else; the Case was thus:
As soon as the Jew saw the Jewels, he falls a jabbering in Dutch, or Portuguese, to the Merchant, and I cou’d presently perceive that they were in some great Surprize, both of them; the Jew held up his Hands, look’d at me with some Horrour, then talk’d Dutch again, and put himself into a thousand Shapes, twisting his Body, and wringing up his Face this Way, and that Way, in his Discourse; stamping with his Feet, and throwing abroad his Hands, as if he was not in a Rage only, but in a meer124 Fury; then he wou’d turn, and give a Look at me, like the Devil; I thought I never saw any thing so frightful in my Life.
At length I put in a Word; Sir, says I, to the Dutch Merchant, What is all this Discourse to my Business? What is this Gentleman in all these Passions about? I wish, if he is to treat with me, he wou’d speak, that I may understand him; or if you have Business of your own between you, that is to be done first, let me withdraw, and I’ll come again when you are at leisure.
No, no, Madam, says the Dutchman, very kindly, you must not go, all our Discourse is about you, and your Jewels, and you shall hear it presently, it concerns you very much, I assure you: Concern me, says I, what can it concern me so much, as to put this Gentleman into such Agonies? and what makes him give me such Devil’s Looks as he does? why he looks as if he wou’d devour me.
The Jew understood me presently, continuing in a kind of Rage, and spoke in French, Yes, Madam, it does concern you much, very much, very much, repeating the Words, shaking his Head, and then turning to the Dutchman, Sir, says he, pray tell her what is the Case; no, says the Merchant, not yet, let us talk a little farther of it by ourselves; upon which, they withdrew into another Room, where still they talk’d very high, but in a Language I did not understand: I began to be a little surpriz’d at what the Jew had said, you may be sure, and eager to know what he meant, and was very impatient till the Dutch Merchant came back, and that so impatient, that I call’d one of his Servants to let him know, I desir’d to speak with him; when he came in, I ask’d his Pardon for being so impatient, but told him I cou’d not be easie, till he had told me what the Meaning of all this was: Why Madam, says the Dutch Merchant, in short, the Meaning is, what I am surpriz’d at too: This Man is a Jew, and understands Jewels perfectly well, and that was the Reason I sent for him, to dispose of them to him, for you; but as soon as he saw them, he knew the Jewels very distinctly, and flying out in a Passion, as you see he did; told me, in short, that they were the very Parcel of Jewels which the English Jeweller had about him, who was robb’d going to Versailles, (about eight Years ago) to show them the Prince d’ —, and that it was for these very Jewels that the poor Gentleman was murther’d; and he is in all this Agony to make me ask you, how you came by them; and he says, you ought to be charg’d with the Robbery and Murther, and put to the Question,125 to discover who were the Persons that did it, that they might be brought to Justice: While he said this, the Jew came impudently back, into the Room, without calling, which a little surpriz’d me again.
The Dutch Merchant spoke pretty good English, and he knew that the Jew did not understand English at-all; so he told me the latter Part, when the Jew came into the Room, in English; at which I smil’d, which put the Jew into his mad Fit again, and shaking his Head, and making his Devil’s Faces again, he seem’d to threaten me for Laughing; saying in French, This was an Affair I shou’d have little Reason to laugh at, and the like; at this, I laugh’d again, and flouted him, letting him see, that I scorn’d him; and turning to the Dutch Merchant, Sir, says I, That those Jewels were belonging to Mr.—, the English Jeweller, naming his Name readily, in that, says I, this Person is right, but that I shou’d be question’d how I came to have them, is a Token of his Ignorance; which, however, he might have manag’d with a little more good Manners, till I had told him who I am; and both he, and you too, will be more easie in that Part, when I should tell you, that I am the unhappy Widow of Mr. —,who was so barbarously murther’d going to Versailles; and that he was not robb’d of those Jewels, but of others; Mr.—having left those behind him, with me, lest he should be robb’d; had I, Sir, come otherwise by them, I should not have been weak enough to have expo’d them to Sale here, where the Thing was done, but have carried them farther off.
This was an agreeable Surprize to the Dutch Merchant, who being an honest Man himself, believ’d every thing I said, which indeed, being all really and literally true, except the Deficiency of my Marriage, I spoke with such an unconcern’d Easiness, that it might plainly be seen, that I had no Guilt upon me, as the Jew suggested.
The Jew was confounded when he heard that I was the Jeweller’s Wife; but as I had rais’d his Passion, with saying, he look’d at me with a Devil’s Face, he studied Mischief in his Heart, and answer’d, That should not serve my Turn; so call’d the Dutchman out again, when he told him, that he resolv’d to prosecute this Matter farther.
There was one kind Chance in this Affair, which indeed, was my Deliverance, and that was, that the Fool cou’d not restrain his Passion, but must let it fly to the Dutch Merchant; to whom, when they withdrew a second time, as above, he told, that he would bring a Process against me for the Murther; and that it should cost me dear, for using him at that rate; and away he went, desiring the Dutch Merchant to tell him when I wou’d be there again: Had he suspected, that the Dutchman wou’d have communicated the Particulars to me, he wou’d never have been so foolish as to have mention’d that Part to him.
But the Malice of his Thoughts anticipated him, and the Dutch Merchant was so good, as to give me an Account of his Design, which indeed, was wicked enough in its Nature; but to me it would have been worse, than otherwise it wou’d to another; for upon Examination, I cou’d not have prov’d myself to be the Wife of the Jeweller, so the Suspicion might have been carried on with the better Face; and then I shou’d also, have brought all his Relations in England upon me; who finding by the Proceedings, that I was not his Wife, but a Mistress, or in English, a Whore, wou’d immediately have laid Claim to the Jewels, as I had own’d them to be his.
This Thought immediately rush’d into my Head, as soon as the Dutch Merchant had told me, what wicked things were in the Head of that cursed Jew; and the Villain (for so I must call him) convinc’d the Dutch Merchant that he was in earnest, by an Expression which shew’d the rest of his Design, and that was a Plot to get the rest of the Jewels into his Hand.
When first he hinted to the Dutchman, that the Jewels were such a Man’s, meaning my Husband’s, he made wonderful Explanations on account of their having been conceal’d so long; where must they have lain? and what was the Woman that brought them? and that she, meaning me, ought to be immediately apprehended, and put into the Hands of Justice; and this was the time that, as I said, he made such horrid Gestures, and look’d at me so like a Devil.
The Merchant hearing him talk at that rate, and seeing him in earnest, said to him, Hold your Tongue a little, this is a thing of Consequence; if it be so, let you and I go into the next Room and consider of it there; and so they withdrew, and left me.
Here, as before, I was uneasie, and call’d him out, and having heard how it was, gave him that Answer, that I was his Wife, or Widow, which the Malicious Jew said shou’d not serve my turn; and then it was, that the Dutchman call’d him out again; and in this time of his withdrawing, the Merchant finding, as above, that he was really in earnest, counterfeited a little to be of his Mind, and enter’d into Proposals with him for the thing itself.
In this they agreed to go to an Advocate, or Council, for Directions how to proceed, and to meet again the next Day, against which time the Merchant was to appoint me to come again with the Jewels, in order to sell them: No, says the Merchant, I will go farther with her than so; I will desire her to leave the Jewels with me, to show to another Person, in order to get the better Price for them: That’s right, says the Jew, and I’ll engage she shall never be Mistress of them again; they shall either be seiz’d by us, says he, in the King’s Name, or she shall be glad to give them up to us, to prevent her being put to the Torture.
The Merchant said Yes to every thing he offer’d, and they agreed to meet the next Morning about it, and I was to be perswaded to leave the Jewels with him, and come to them the next Day, at four a-Clock, in order to make a good Bargain for them; and on these Conditions they parted; but the honest Dutchman, fill’d with Indignation at the barbarous Design, came directly to me, and told me the whole Story; and now, Madam, says he, you are to consider immediately what you have to do.
I told him, if I was sure to have Justice, I would not fear all that such a Rogue cou’d do to me; but how such things were carried on in France I knew not; I told him, the greatest Difficulty would be to prove our Marriage, for that it was done in England, and in a remote Part of England too, and which was worse, it would be hard to produce authentick Vouchers of it, because we were Married in Private: But as to the Death of your Husband, Madam, what can be said to that? said he; nay, said I, what can they say to it? In England, added I, if they wou’d offer such an Injury to any one, they must prove the Fact, or give just Reason for their Suspicions; that my Husband was Murther’d, that every one knows; but that he was robb’d, or of what, or how much, that none knows, no, not myself; and why was I not question’d for it then? I have liv’d in Paris ever since, liv’d publickly, and no Man had yet the Impudence to suggest such a thing of me.
I am fully satisfied of that, says the Merchant; but as this is a Rogue, who will stick at nothing, what can we say? and who knows what he may swear? Suppose he should swear, that he knows your Husband had those particular Jewels with him the Morning when he went out, and that he shew’d them to him, to consider their Value, and what Price he should ask the Prince de — for them.
Nay, by the same Rule, said I, he may swear, that I murther’d my Husband, if he finds it for his Turn: That’s true, said he; and if he shou’d, I do not see what cou’d save you; but added, I have found out his more immediate Design; his Design is to have you carried to the Chatellette,126 that the Suspicion may appear just; and then to get the Jewels out of your Hands, if possible; then, at last, to drop the Prosecution, on your consenting to quit the Jewels to him; and how you will do to avoid this, is the Question, which I would have you consider of.
My Misfortune, Sir, said I, is, that I have no Time to consider, and I have no Person to consider with, or advise about it; I find, that Innocence may be oppress’d by such an impudent Fellow as this; he that does not value a Perjury, has any Man’s Life at his Mercy; but Sir, said I, is the Justice such here, that while I may be in the Hands of the Publick, and under Prosecution, he may get hold of my Effects, and get my Jewels into his Hands?
I don’t know, says he, what may be done in that Case; but if not he, if the Court of Justice shou’d get hold of them, I do not know but you may find it as difficult to get them out of their Hands again, and, at least, it may cost you half as much as they are worth; so I think it would be a much better Way, to prevent their coming at them at-all.
But what Course can I take to do that, says I, now they have got Notice, that I have them? If they get me into their Hands, they will oblige me to produce them, or perhaps, sentence me to Prison till I do.
Nay, says he, as this Brute says too, put you to the Question, that is, to the Torture, on Pretence of making you confess who were the Murtherers of your Husband.
Confess! says I; how can I confess what I know nothing of?
If they come to have you to the Rack, said he, they will make you confess you did it yourself, whether you did it or no, and then you are cast.127
The very word Rack frighted me to Death almost, and I had no Spirit left in me: Did it myself! said I; that’s impossible!
No, Madam, says he, ’tis far from impossible; the most innocent People in the World have been forc’d to confess themselves Guilty of what they never heard of, much less, had any Hand in.
What then must I do? said I; what wou’d you advise me to?
Why, says he, I wou’d advise you to be gone; you intended to go away in four or five Days, and you may as well go in two Days; and if you can do so, I shall manage it so, that he shall not suspect your being gone, for several Days after: Then he told me, how the Rogue wou’d have me order’d to bring the Jewels the next Day, for Sale; and that then he wou’d have me apprehended; how he had made the Jew believe he wou’d join with him in his Design; and that he [the Merchant] wou’d get the Jewels into his Hands: Now, says the Merchant, I shall give you Bills for the Money you desir’d, immediately, and such as shall not fail of being paid; take your Jewels with you, and go this very Evening to St. Germains en Lay; I’ll send a Man thither with you, and from thence, he shall guide you to-Morrow, to Roan,l28 where there lies a Ship of mine, just ready to sail for Rotterdam; you shall have your Passage in that Ship, on my Account, and I will send Orders for him to sail as soon as you are on Board, and a Letter to my Friend at Rotterdam, to Entertain and take Care of you.
This was too kind an Offer for me, as things stood, not to be accepted, and be thankful for; and as to going away, I had prepar’d every thing for parting; so that I had little to do, but to go back, take two or three Boxes and Bundles, and such things, and my Maid Amy, and be gone.
Then the Merchant told me the Measures he had resolv’d to take to delude the Jew, while I made my Escape, which were very well contriv’d indeed: FIRST, said he, when he comes to-Morrow, I shall tell him, that I propos’d to you, to leave the Jewels with me, as we agreed; but that you said, you wou’d come and bring them in the Afternoon, so that we must stay for you till four a-Clock; but then, at that time, I will show a Letter from you, as if just come in, wherein you shall excuse your not coming; for that some Company came to visit you, and prevented you; but that you desire me to take Care that the Gentleman be ready to buy your Jewels; and that you will come to Morrow, at the same Hour, without fail.
When to-Morrow is come, we shall wait at the Time, but you not appearing, I shall seem most dissatisfied, and wonder what can be the Reason; and so we shall agree to go the next Day to get out a Process against you; but the next Day, in the Morning, I’ll send to give him Notice, that you have been at my House, but he not being there, have made another Appointment, and that I desire to speak with him; when he comes, I’ll tell him, you appear perfectly blind, as to your Danger; and that you appear’d much disappointed that he did not come, tho’ you cou’d not meet the Night before; and oblig’d me to have him here to-Morrow at three a-Clock; when to-Morrow comes, says he, you shall send word, that you are taken so ill, that you cannot come out for that Day; but that you will not fail the next Day; and the next Day you shall neither come or send, nor let us ever hear any more of you; for by that time you shall be in Holland, if you please.
I cou’d not but approve all his Measures, seeing they were so well contriv’d, and in so friendly a Manner, for my Benefit; and as he seem’d to be so very sincere, I resolv’d to put my Life in his Hands: Immediately I went to my Lodgings, and sent away Amy with such Bundles as I had prepar’d for my Travelling; I also sent several Parcels of my fine Furniture to the Merchant’s House, to be laid up for me, and bringing the Key of the Lodgings with me, I came back to his House: Here we finish’d our Matters of Money; and I deliver’d into his Hands seven Thousand eight Hundred Pistoles129 in Bills and Money; a Copy of an Assignment on the Town-House130 of Paris, for 4000 Pistoles, at 3 per Cent. Interest, attested; and a Procuration131 for receiving the Interest half-yearly; but the Original I kept myself.
I cou’d have trusted all I had with him, for he was perfectly honest, and had not the least View of doing me any Wrong; indeed, after it was so apparent that he had, as it were, sav’d my Life, or at least, sav’d me from being expos’d and ruin’d; I say, after this, how cou’d I doubt him in any thing?
When I came to him, he had every-thing ready as I wanted, and as he had propos’d; as to my Money, he gave me first of all an accepted Bill, payable at Rotterdam, for 4000 Pistoles, and drawn from Genoa upon a Merchant at Rotterdam, payable to a Merchant at Paris, and endors’d by him to my Merchant; this he assur’d me wou’d be punctually paid, and so it was, to a Day; the rest I had in other Bills of Exchange, drawn by himself upon other Merchants in Holland: Having secur’d my Jewels too, as well as I cou’d, he sent me away the same Evening in a Friend’s Coach, which he had procur’d for me, to St. Germains, and the next Morning to Roan; he also sent a Servant of his own, on Horseback, with me, who provided every thing for me, and who carried his Orders to the Captain of the Ship, which lay about three Miles below Roan, in the River, and by his Directions I went immediately on Board: The third Day after I was on Board, the Ship went away, and we were out at Sea the next Day after that; and thus I took my Leave of France, and got clear of an ugly Business, which, had it gone on, might have ruin’d me, and sent me back as Naked to England, as I was a little before I left it.
And now Amy and I were at Leisure to look upon the Mischiefs that we had escap’d; and had I had any Religion, or any Sence of a Supreme Power managing, directing, and governing in both Causes and Events in this World, such a Case as this wou’d have given any-body room to have been very thankful to the Power who had not only put such a Treasure into my Hand, but given me such an Escape from the Ruin that threaten’d me; but I had none of those things about me; I had indeed, a grateful Sence upon my Mind of the generous Friendship of my Deliverer, the Dutch Merchant; by whom I was so faithfully serv’d, and by whom, as far as relates to second Causes,132 I was preserv’d from Destruction.
I say, I had a grateful Sence upon my Mind, of his Kindness and Faithfulness to me, and I resolv’d to show him some Testimony of it, as soon as I came to the End of my Rambles, for I was yet but in a State of Uncertainty, and sometimes that gave me a little Uneasiness too; I had Paper indeed, for my Money, and he had shew’d himself very good to me, in conveying me away, as above: But I had not seen the End of things yet; for unless the Bills were paid, I might still be a great Loser by my Dutchman, and he might, perhaps, have contriv’d all that Affair of the Jew, to put me into a Fright, and get me to run away, and that, as if it were to save my Life; that if the Bills should be refus’d, I was cheated, with a Witness, and the like; but these were but Surmises, and indeed, were perfectly without Cause; for the honest Man acted as honest Men always do; with an upright and disinterested Principle; and with a Sincerity not often to be found in the World; what Gain he made by the Exchange, was just, and was nothing but what was his Due, and was in the Way of his Business; but otherwise he made no Advantage of me at-all.
When I pass’d in the Ship between Dover and Callais, and saw Beloved England once more under my View; England, which I counted my Native Country; being the Place I was bred up in, tho’ not born there; a strange kind of Joy possess’d my Mind, and I had such a longing Desire to be there, that I would have given the Master of the Ship twenty Pistoles to have stood-over, and set me on shore in the Downs; and when he told me he cou’d not do it, that is, that he durst not do it, if I wou’d have given him an hundred Pistoles, I secretly wish’d, that a Storm wou’d rise, that might drive the Ship over to the Coast of England, whether they wou’d or not, that I might be set on Shore any-where upon English Ground.
This wicked Wish had not been out of my Thoughts above two or three Hours, but the Master steering away to the North, as was his Course to do, we lost Sight of Land on that Side, and only had the Flemish Shore in View on our Right-hand, or, as the Seamen call it, the Starboard-Side; and then with the Loss of the Sight, the Wish for Landing in England, abated; and I consider’d how foolish it was to wish myself out of the Way of my Business; that if I had been on Shore in England, I must go back to Holland, on account of my Bills, which were so considerable, and I having no Correspondence there, that I cou’d not have manag’d it, without going myself: But we had not been out of Sight of England many Hours, before the Weather began to change, the Winds whistl’d, and made a Noise, and the Seamen said to one-another, that it would Blow hard at Night: It was then about two Hours before Sun-set, and we were pass’d by Dunkirk, and I think they said we were in sight of Ostend; but then the Wind grew high, and the Sea swell’d, and all things look’d terrible, especially to us, that understood nothing but just what we saw before us; in short, Night came on, and very dark it was, the Wind freshen’d; and blew harder and harder, and about two Hours within Night, it blew a terrible Storm.
I was not quite a Stranger to the Sea, having come from Rochelle133 to England, when I was a Child, and gone from London, by the River Thames, to France afterward, as I have said: But I began to be alarm’d a little with the terrible Clamour of the Men over my Head, for I had never been in a Storm, and so had never seen the like, or heard it; and once, offering to look out at the Door of the Steerage, as they call’d it, it struck me with such Horrour, the darkness, the fierceness of the Wind, the dreadful height of the Waves, and the Hurry134 the Dutch Sailors were in, whose Language I did not understand one Word of; neither when they curs’d, or when they pray’d; I say, all these things together, fill’d me with Terror; and, in short, I began to be very much frighted.
When I was come back into the Great-Cabbin, there sat Amy, who was very Sea-sick, and I had a little before given her a Sup135 of Cordial-waters, to help her Stomach: When Amy saw me come back, and sit down without speaking, for so I did, she look’d two or three times up at me, at last she came running to me, Dear Madam! says she, what is the Matter? what makes you look so pale? why, you a’nt well; what is the Matter? I said nothing still, but held up my Hands two or three times; Amy doubl’d her Importunities; upon that, I said no more, but, step to the Steerage-Door, and look out, as I did; so she went away immediately, and look’d too, as I had bidden her; but the poor Girl came back again in the greatest Amazement and Horrour, that ever I saw any poor Creature in, wringing her Hands, and crying out she was undone! she was undone! she shou’d be drown’d! they were all lost! Thus she ran about the Cabbin like a mad thing, and as perfectly out of her Senses, as any one in such a Case cou’d be suppos’d to be.
I was frighted myself; but when I saw the Girl in such a terrible Agony, it brought me a little to myself, and I began to talk to her, and put her in a little Hope; I told her, there was many a Ship in a Storm, that was not cast-away; and I hop’d we shou’d not be drown’d; that it was true, the Storm was very dreadful, but I did not see that the Seamen were so much concern’d as we were; and so I talk’d to her as well as I cou’d, tho’ my Heart was full enough of it, as well as Amy’s, and Death began to stare in my Face, ay, and some-thing else too, that is to say, Conscience, and my Mind was very much disturb’d, but I had nobody to comfort me.
But Amy being in so much worse a Condition, that is to say, so much more terrify’d at the Storm, than I was, I had something to do to comfort her; she was, as I have said, like one distracted, and went raving about the Cabbin, crying out, she was undone! undone! she shou’d be drown’d, and the like; and at last, the Ship giving a Jerk, by the Force, I suppose, of some violent Wave, it threw poor Amy quite down, for she was weak enough before, with being Sea-sick, and as it threw her forward, the poor Girl struck her Head against the Bulk-head, as the Seamen call it, of the Cabbin, and laid her as dead as a Stone, upon the Floor, or Deck, that is to say, she was so to all Apearance.
I cry’d out for Help; but it had been all one, to have cry’d out on the top of a Mountain, where no-body had been within five Miles of me; for the Seamen were so engag’d, and made so much Noise, that no-body heard me, or came near me; I open’d the Great-Cabbin Door, and look’d into the Steerage, to cry for Help, but there, to encrease my Fright, was two Seamen on their Knees, at Prayers, and only one Man who steer’d, and he made a groaning Noise too, which I took to be saying his Prayers, but it seems it was answering to those above, when they call’d to him, to tell him which Way to steer.
Here was no Help for me, or for poor Amy, and there she lay still so, and in such a Condition, that I did not know whether she was dead or alive; in this Fright I went to her, and lifted her a little way up, setting her on the Deck, with her Back to the Boards of the Bulk-head, and I got a little Bottle out of my Pocket, and I held it to her Nose, and rubb’d her Temples, and what else I could do, but still Amy shew’d no Signs of Life, till I felt for her Pulse, but could hardly distinguish her to be alive; however, after a great while, she began to revive, and in about half an Hour she came to herself, but remember’d nothing at first of what had happen’d to her, for a good-while more.
When she recover’d more fully, she ask’d me where she was? I told her, she was in the Ship yet, but God knows how long it might be; Why, Madam, says she, is not the Storm over? No, no, says I, Amy; why, Madam, says she, it was calm just now, (meaning when she was in the swooning Fit, occasion’d by her Fall); Calm Amy, says I, ’tis far from calm; it may be it will be calm by-and-by, when we all [are] drown’d, and gone to HEAVEN
HEAVEN! Madam, says she, what makes you talk so? HEAVEN! I go to HEAVEN! No, no, If I am drown’d, I am damn’d! Don’t you know what a wicked Creature I have been? I have been a Whore to two Men, and have liv’d a wretched abominable Life of Vice and Wickedness for fourteen Years; O Madam, you know it, and GOD knows it; and now I am to die; to be drown’d; O! what will become of me? I am undone for Ever! ay, Madam, for Ever! to all Eternity! O I am lost! I am lost! If I am drown’d, I am lost for Ever!
All these, you will easily suppose, must be so many Stabs into the very Soul of one in my own Case; it immediately occur’d to me, Poor Amy! what art thou, that I am not? what hast thou been, that I have not been? Nay, I am guilty of my own Sin, and thine too: Then it came to my Remembrance, that I had not only been the same with Amy, but that I had been the Devil’s Instrument, to make her wicked; that I had stripp’d her, and prostituted her to the very Man that I had been Naught136 with myself; that she had but follow’d me; I had been her wicked Example; and I had led her into all; and that as we had sinn’d together, now we were likely to sink together.
All this repeated itself to my Thoughts at that very Moment; and every one of Amy’s Cries sounded thus in my Ears: I am the wicked Cause of it all; I have been thy Ruin, Amy; I have brought thee to this, and now thou art to suffer for the Sin I have entic’d thee to; and if thou art lost for ever, what must I be? what must be my Portion?
It is true, this Difference was between us, that I said all these things within myself, and sigh’d, and mourn’d inwardly; but Amy, as her Temper was more violent, spoke aloud, and cry’d, and call’d out aloud, like one in an Agony.
I had but small Encouragement to give her, and indeed, cou’d say but very little; but I got her to compose herself a little, and not let any of the People of the Ship understand what she meant, or what she said; but even in her greatest Composure, she continued to express herself with the utmost Dread and Terror, on account of the wicked Life she had liv’d; and crying out, she shou’d be damn’d, and the like; which was very terrible to me, who knew what Condition I was in myself.
Upon these serious Considerations, I was very Penitent too, for my former Sins; and cry’d out, tho’ softly, two or three times, Lord have Mercy upon me; to this, I added abundance of Resolutions, of what a Life I wou’d live, if it should please God but to spare my Life but this one time; how I would live a single and a virtuous Life, and spend a great deal of what I had thus wickedly got, in Acts of Charity, and doing Good.
Under these dreadful Apprehensions, I look’d back on the Life I had led, with the utmost Contempt and Abhorrence; I blush’d, and wonder’d at myself, how I cou’d act thus; how I cou’d divest myself of Modesty and Honour, and prostitute myself for Gain; and I thought, if ever it shou’d please God to spare me this one time from Death, it wou’d not be possible that I should be the same Creature again.
Amy went farther; she pray’d, she resolv’d, she vow’d to lead a new Life, if God wou’d spare her but this time: It now began to be Day-light, for the Storm held all Nightlong, and it was some Comfort to see the Light of another Day, which indeed, none of us expected; but the Sea went Mountains high, and the Noise of the Water was as frightful to us, as the Sight of the Waves; nor was any Land to be seen; nor did the Seamen know whereabout they were; at last, to our great Joy, they made Land, which was in England, and on the Coast of Suffolk; and the Ship being in the utmost Distress, they ran for the Shore, at all Hazards, and with great Difficulty, got into Harwich, where they were safe, as to the Danger of Death; but the Ship was so full of Water, and so much damag’d, that if they had not laid her on Shore the same Day, she wou’d have sunk before Night, according to the Opinion of the Seamen, and of the Workmen on Shore too, who were hir’d to assist them in stopping their Leaks.
Amy was reviv’d as soon as she heard they had espy’d Land, and went out upon the Deck, but she soon came in again to me, O Madam; says she, there’s the Land indeed, to be seen, it looks like a Ridge of Clouds, and may be all a Cloud, for ought I know, but if it be Land, ’tis a great Way off; and the Sea is in such a Combustion, we shall all perish before we can reach it; ’tis the dreadfulltst Sight, to look at the Waves, that ever was seen; why, they are as high as Mountains; we shall certainly be all swallow’d up, for-all the Land is so near.
I had conceiv’d some Hope, that if they saw Land, we should be deliver’d; and I told her, she did not understand things of that Nature; that she might be sure, if they saw Land, they would go directly towards it, and wou’d make into some Harbour; but it was, as Amy said, a frightful Distance to it: The Land look’d like Clouds, and the Sea went as high as Mountains, so that no Hope appear’d in the seeing the Land; but we were in fear of foundring, before we cou’d reach it; this made Amy so desponding still; but as the Wind, which blew from the East, or that Way, drove us furiously towards the Land; so when, about half an Hour after, I stept to the Steerage-Door, and look’d-out, I saw the Land much nearer than Amy represented it; so I went in, and encourag’d Amy again, and indeed, was encourag’d myself.
In about an Hour, or something more, we see, to our infinite Satisfaction, the open Harbour of Harwich, and the Vessel standing directly towards it, and in a few Minutes more, the Ship was in smooth Water, to our inexpressible Comfort; and thus I had, tho’ against my Will, and contrary to my true Interest, what I wish’d for, to be driven away to England, tho’ it was by a Storm.
Nor did this Incident do either Amy or me much Service; for the Danger being over, the Fears of Death vanish’d with it; ay, and our Fear of what was beyond Death also; our Sence of the Life we had liv’d, went off, and with our return to Life, our wicked Taste of Life return’d, and we were both the same as before, if not worse: So certain is it, that the Repentance which is brought about by the meer Apprehensions of Death, wears off as those Apprehensions wear off; and Death-bed Repentance, or Storm-Repentence, which is much the same, is seldom true.
However, I do not tell you, that this was all at once, neither; the Fright we had at Sea lasted a little while afterwards, at least, the Impression was not quite blown off, as soon as the Storm; expecially poor Amy, as soon as she set her Foot on Shore, she fell flat upon the Ground, and kiss’d it, and gave God thanks for her Deliverance from the Sea; and turning to me when she got up, I hope, Madam, says she, you will never go upon the Sea again.
I know not what ail’d me, not I; but Amy was much more penitent at Sea, and much more sensible of her Deliverance when she Landed, and was safe, than I was; I was in a kind of Stupidity,137 I know not well what to call it; I had a Mind full of Horrour in the time of the Storm, and saw Death before me, as plainly as Amy, but my Thoughts got no Vent, as Amy’s did; I had a silent sullen kind of Grief, which cou’d not break out either in Words or Tears, and which was, therefore, much the worse to bear.
I had Terror upon me for my wicked Life past, and firmly believe’d I was going to the Bottom, launching into Death, where I was to give an Account of all my past Actions; and in this State, and on that Account, I look’d back upon my Wickedness with Abhorrence, as I have said above; but I had no Sence of Repentance, from the true Motive of Repentance; I saw nothing of the Corruption of Nature, the Sin of my Life, as an Offence against God; as a thing odious to the Holiness of his Being; as abusing his Mercy, and despising his Goodness; in short, I had no thorow effectual Repentance; no Sight of my Sins in their proper Shape; no View of a Redeemer, or Hope in him: I had only such a Repentance as a Criminal has at the Place of Execution, who is sorry, not that he has committed the Crime, as it is a Crime, but sorry that he is to be Hang’d for it.
It is true, Amy’s Repentence wore off too, as well as mine, but not so soon; however, we were both very grave for a time.
As soon as we could get a Boat from the Town, we went on Shore, and immediately went to a Publick-House in the Town of Harwich; where we were to consider seriously, what was to be done, and whether we should go up to London, or stay till the Ship was refitted, which, they said, would be Fortnight, and then go for Holland, as we intended, and as Business requir’d.
Reason directed that I shou’d go to Holland, for there I had all my Money to receive, and there I had Persons of good Reputation and Character, to apply to, having Letters to them from the honest Dutch Merchant at Paris, and they might, perhaps, give me a Recommendation again, to Merchants in London, and so I should get Aquaintance with some People of Figure, which was what I lov’d; whereas now I knew not one Creature in the whole City of London, or any-where else, that I cou’d go and make myself known to: Upon these Considerations, I resolv’d to go to Holland, whatever came on it.
But Amy cry’d and trembled, and was ready to fall into Fits, when I did but mention going upon the Sea again, and begg’d of me, not to go, or if I wou’d go, that I wou’d leave her behind, tho’ I was to send her a-begging; the People in the Inn laugh’d at her, and jested with her; ask’d her, if she had any Sins to confess, that she was asham’d shou’d be heard of? and that she was troubled with an evil Conscience; told her, if she came to Sea, and to be in a Storm, if she had lain with her Master, she wou’d certainly tell her Mistress of it; and that it was a common thing, for poor Maids to confess all the Young-Men they had lain with; that there was one poor Girl that went over with her Mistress, whose Husband was a —r, in —, in the City of London, who confess’d, in the Terror of a Storm, that she had lain with her Master, and all the Apprentices so often, and in such and such Places, and made the poor Mistress, when she return’d to London, fly at her Husband, and make such a Stir, as was indeed, the Ruin of the whole Family: Amy cou’d bear all that well enough; for tho’ she had indeed, lain with her Master, it was with her Mistress’s Knowledge and Consent, and which was worse, was her Mistress’s own doing; I record it to the Reproach of my own Vice, and to expose the Excesses of such Wickedness, as they deserve to be expos’d.
I thought Amy’s Fear would have been over by that time the Ship would be gotten ready, but I found the Girl was rather worse and worse; and when I came to the Point, that we must go on Board, or lose the Passage, Amy was so terrified, that she fell into Fits, so the Ship went away without us.
But my going being absolutely necessary, as above, I was oblig’d to go in the Packet-Boat some time after, and leave Amy behind, at Harwich, but with Directions to go to London, and stay there, to receive Letters and Orders from me what to do: Now I was become, from a Lady of Pleasure, a Woman of Business, and of great Business too, I assure you.
I got me a Servant at Harwich, to go over with me, who had been at Rotterdam, knew the Place, and spoke the Language, which was a great Help to me, and away I went; I had a very quick Passage, and pleasant Weather, and coming to Rotterdam, soon found out the Merchant to whom I was recommended, who receiv’d me with extraordinary Respect; and first he acknowledg’d the accepted Bill for 4000 Pistoles, which he afterwards paid punctually; other Bills that I had also payable at Amsterdam, he procur’d to be receiv’d for me; and whereas one of the Bills for a Thousand two Hundred Crowns,138 was protested139 at Amsterdam, he paid it me himself, for the Honour of the Endorser, as he called it, which was my Friend, the Merchant at Paris.
There I enter’d into a Negociation, by his Means, for my Jewels, and he brought me several Jewellers, to look on them, and particularly, one to Value them, and to tell me what every Particular was worth: This was a Man who had great Skill in Jewels, but did not Trade at that time; and he was desir’d by the Gentleman that I was with, to see that I might not be impos’d upon.
All this Work took me up near half a Year, and by managing my Business thus myself, and having large Sums to do with, I became as expert in it, as any She-Merchant of them all; I had Credit in the Bank for a large Sum of Money, and Bills and Notes for much more.
After I had been here about three Months, my Maid Amy writes me word, that she had receiv’d a Letter from her Friend, as she call’d him, that, by the way, was the Prince’s Gentleman, that had been Amy’s extraordinary Friend indeed; for Amy own’d to me, he had lain with her a hundred times; that is to say, as often as he pleas’d; and perhaps, in the eight Year which that Affair lasted, it might be a great deal oftner: This was what she call’d her Friend, who she corresponded with upon this particular Subject; and among other things, sent her this particular News, that my extraordinary Friend, my real Husband, who rode in the Gensd’arms, was dead; that he was kill’d in a Rencounter, as they call it, or accidental Scuffle among the Troopers; and so the Jade congratulated me upon my being now a real Free-Woman; and now, Madam, says she, at the End of her Letter, you have nothing to do but to come hither, and set up a Coach, and a good Equipage; and if Beauty and a good Fortune won’t make you a Dutchess, nothing will; but I had not fix’d my Measures yet; I had no Inclination to be a Wife again, I had had such bad Luck with my first Husband, I hated the Thoughts of it; I found, that a Wife is treated with Indifference, a Mistress with a strong Passion; a Wife is look’d upon, as but an Upper-Servant,140 a Mistress is a Sovereign; a Wife must give up all she has; have every Reserve she makes for herself, be thought hard of, and be upbraided with her very Pin-Money;141 whereas a Mistress makes the Saying true, that what the Man has, is hers, and what she has, is her own; the Wife bears a thousand Insults, and is forc’d to sit still and bear it, or part and be undone; a Mistress insulted, helps herself immediately, and takes another.
These were many wicked Arguments for Whoring, for I never set against them the Difference another way, I may say, every other way; how that, FIRST, A Wife appears boldly and honourably with her Husband; lives at Home, and possesses his House, his Servants, his Equipages, and has a Right to them all, and to call them her own; entertains his Friends, owns his Children, and has the return of Duty and Affection from them, as they are here her own, and claims upon his Estate, by the Custom of England, if he dies, and leaves her a Widow.
The Whore sculks about in Lodgings; is visited in the dark; disown’d upon all Occasions, before God and Man; is maintain’d indeed, for a time; but is certainly con-demn’d to be abandon’d at last, and left to the Miseries of Fate, and her own just Disaster: If she has any Children, her Endeavour is to get rid of them, and not maintain them; and if she lives, she is certain to see them all hate her, and be asham’d of her; while the Vice rages, and the Man is in the Devil’s Hand, she has him; and while she has him, she makes a Prey of him;, but if he happens to fall Sick; if any Disaster befals him, the Cause of all lies upon her; he is sure to lay all his Misfortunes at her Door; and if once he comes to Repentance, or makes but one Step towards a Reformation, he begins with her; leaves her; uses her as she deserves; hates her; abhors her; and sees her no more; and that with this never-failing Addition, namely, That the more sincere and unfeign’d his Repentance is, the more earnestly he looks up; and the more effectually he looks in, the more his Aversion to her, encreases; and he curses her from the Bottom of his Soul; nay, it must be from a kind of Excess of Charity, if he so much as wishes God may forgive her.
The opposite Circumstances of a Wife and Whore, are such, and so many, and I have since seen the Difference with such Eyes, as I cou’d dwell upon the Subject a great-while; but my Business is History; I had a long Scene of Folly yet to run over; perhaps the Moral of all my Story may bring me back-again to this Part, and if it does, I shall speak of it fully.
While I continued in Holland, I receiv’d several Letters from my Friend, (so I had good Reason to call him) the Merchant in Paris; in which he gave me a farther Account of the Conduct of that Rogue, the Jew, and how he acted after I was gone; how Impatient he was while the said Merchant kept him in suspence, expecting me to come again; and how he rag’d when he found I came no more.
It seems, after he found I did not come, he found out, by his unweary’d Enquiry, where I had liv’d; and that I had been kept as a Mistress, by some Great Person, but he cou’d never learn by who, except that, he learnt the Colour of his Livery; in Pursuit of this Enquiry, he guess’d at the right Person, but cou’d not make it out, or offer any positive Proof of it; but he found out the Prince’s Gentleman, and talk’d so saucily to him of it, that the Gentleman treated him, as the French call it, au Coup de Batton; that is to say, Can’d him very severly, as he deserv’d; and that not satisfying him, or curing his Insolence, he was met one Night late, upon the Pont Neuf in Paris, by two Men, who muffling him up in a great Cloak, carried him into a more private Place, and cut off both his Ears, telling him, It was for talking impudently of his Superiours; adding, that he shou’d take Care to govern his Tongue better, and behave with more Manners, or the next time they would cut his Tongue out of his Head.
This put a Check to his Sauciness that Way; but he comes back to the Merchant, and threatened to begin a Process against him, for corresponding with me, and being accessary to the Murther of the Jeweller, &c.
The Merchant found by his Discourse, that he suppos’d I was protected by the said Prince de —, nay, the Rogue said, he was sure I was in his Lodgings at Versailles; for he never had so much as the least Intimation of the Way I was really gone; but that I was there, he was certain, and certain that the Merchant was privy to it: The Merchant bade him Defiance; however, he gave him a great deal of Trouble, and put him to a great Charge, and had like to have brought him in for a Party to my Escape, in which Case, he wou’d have been oblig’d to have produc’d me, and that in the Penalty of some capital Sum of Money.
But the Merchant was too-many for him another Way; for he brought an Information against him for a Cheat; wherein, laying down the whole Fact, How he intended falsly to accuse the Widow of the Jeweller, for the suppos’d Murther of her Husband; that he did it purely to get the Jewels from her; and that he offer’d to bring him [the Merchant] in, to be Confederate with him, and to share the Jewels between them; proving also, his Design to get the Jewels into his Hands, and then to have dropp’d the Prosecution, upon Condition of my quitting the Jewels to him; upon this Charge, he got him laid by the Heels,142 so he was sent to the Concergerie,143 that is to say, to Bridewell,144 and the Merchant clear’d: He got out of Jayl in a little-while, tho’ not without the help of Money, and continued teizing145 the Merchant a long while; and at last threatning to assassinate and murther him; so the Merchant, who having buried his Wife about two Months before, was now a single Man, and not knowing what such a Villain might do, thought fit to quit Paris, and came away to Holland also.
It is most certain, that speaking of Originals, I was the Source and Spring of all that Trouble and Vexation to this honest Gentleman; and as it was afterwards in my Power to have made him full Satisfaction, and did not, I cannot say but I added Ingratitude to all the rest of my Follies; but of that I shall give a fuller Account presently.
I was surpriz’d one Morning, when being at the Merchant’s House, who he had recommended me to, in Rotterdam, and being busie in his Counting-House, managing my Bills, and preparing to write a Letter to him, to Paris, I heard a Noise of Horses at the Door; which is not very common in a City, where every-body passes by Water; but he had, it seems, ferry’d over the Maez from Williamstadt,146 and so came to the very Door; and I looking towards the Door, upon hearing the Horses, saw a Gentleman alight, and come in at the Gate, I knew nothing, and expected nothing, to be sure, of the Person; but, as I say, was surpriz’d, and indeed, more than ordinarily surpriz’d, when coming nearer to me, I saw it was my Merchant of Paris; my Benefactor; and indeed, my Deliverer.
I confess, it was an agreeable Surprize to me, and I was exceeding glad to see him, who was so honourable, and so kind to me, and who indeed, had sav’d my Life: As soon as he saw me, he run to me, took me in his Arms, and kiss’d me, with a Freedom that he never offer’d to take with me before; Dear Madam —, says he, I am glad to see you safe in this Country; if you had stay’d two Days longer in Paris, you had been undone. I was so glad to see him, that I cou’d not speak a good-while, and I burst out into Tears, without speaking a Word for a Minute; but I recover’d that Disorder, and said, The more, Sir, is my Obligation to you, that sav’d my Life; and added, I am glad to see you here, that I may consider how to ballance an Account, in which I am so much your Debtor.
You and I will adjust that Matter easily, says he, now we are so near together; pray where do you Lodge? says he.
In a very honest good House, said I, where that Gentleman, your Friend, recommended me; pointing to the Merchant in whose House we then were.
And where you may Lodge too, Sir, says the Gentleman, if it suits with your Business, and your other Conveniency.
With-all my Heart, says he; then Madam, adds he, turning to me, I shall be near you, and have Time to tell you a Story, which will be very long, and yet many ways very pleasant to you, how troublesome that devilish Fellow, the Jew, has been to me, on your Account; and what a hellish Snare he had laid for you, if he cou’d have found you.
I shall have Leisure too, Sir, said I, to tell you all my Adventures since that; which have not been a few, I assure you.
In short, he took up his Lodgings in the same House where I lodg’d, and the Room he lay in, open’d as he was wishing it wou’d, just opposite to my Lodging-Room; so we cou’d almost call out of Bed to one another, and I was not at-all shy of him on that Score, for I believ’d him perfectly honest, and so indeed, he was; and if he had not, that Article was at present, no Part of my Concern.
It was not till two or three Days, and after his first Hurries of Business were over, that we began to enter into the History of our Affairs on every side, but when we began, it took up all our Conversation, for almost a Fortnight: First, I gave him a particular Account of every thing that happen’d material upon my Voyage; and how we were driven into Harwich by a very terrible Storm; how I had left my Woman behind me, so frighted with the Danger she had been in, that she dorst not venture to set her Foot into a Ship again, any more; and that I had not come myself, if the Bills I had of him, had not been payable in Holland; but that Money, he might see, wou’d make a Woman go any-where.
He seem’d to laugh at all our womanish Fears upon the Occasion of the Storm; telling me, it was nothing but what was very ordinary in those Seas; but that they had Harbours on every Coast, so near, that they were seldom in Danger of being lost indeed; for, says he, if they cannot fetch one Coast, they can always stand away for another, and run afore it, as he call’d it, for one side or other: But when I came to tell him what a crazy Ship it was, and how, even when they got into Harwich, and into smooth Water, they were fain to run the Ship on Shore, or she wou’d have sunk in the very Harbour; and when I told him, that when I look’d out at the Cabin-Door, I saw the Dutchmen, one upon his Knees here, and another there, at their Prayers, then indeed, he acknowledg’d I had reason to be alarm’d; but smiling, he added, But you, Madam, says he, are so good a Lady, and so pious, you wou’d but have gone to Heaven a little the sooner, the Difference had not been much to you.
I confess, when he said this, it made all the Blood burn in my Veins, and I thought I shou’d have fainted; poor Gentleman! thought I, you know little of me; what wou’d I give to be really what you really think me to be! He perceiv’d the Disorder, but said nothing till I spoke; when shaking my Head, O Sir! said I, Death in any Shape has some Terror in it; but in the frightful Figure147 of a Storm at Sea, and a sinking Ship, it comes with a double, a trebble, and indeed, an inexpressible Horrour; and if I were that Saint you think me to be, which, God knows, I am not, ’tis still very dismal; I desire to die in a Calm, if I can: He said a great many good things, and very prettily order’d his Discourse, between serious Reflection and Compliment; but I had too much Guilt to relish it as it was meant, so I turn’d it off to something else, and talk’d of the Necessity I had on me to come to Holland; but I wish’d myself safe on Shore in England again.
He told me, he was glad I had such an Obligation upon me to come over into Holland, however; but hinted, that he was so interested in my Wellfare, and besides, had such farther Designs upon me, that if I had not so happily been found in Holland, he was resolv’d to have gone to England to see me; and that it was one of the principal Reasons of his leaving Paris.
I told him, I was extremely oblig’d to him for so far interesting himself in my Affairs; but that I had been so far his Debtor before, that I knew not how any thing could encrease the Debt; for I ow’d my Life to him already, and I could not be in Debt for any-thing more valuable than that.
He answer’d in the most obliging Manner possible, that he wou’d put it in my Power to pay that Debt, and all the Obligations besides, that ever he had, or should be able to lay upon me.
I began to understand him now, and to see plainly, that he resolv’d to make Love to me; but I would by no means seem to take the Hint, and besides I knew that he had a Wife with him in Paris; and I had, just then, at least, no Gust148 to any more intriguing; however, he surpriz’d me into a sudden Notice of the thing a little-while after, by saying something in his Discourse, that he did as he said, in his Wife’s Days; I started at that Word; What mean you by that? Sir, said I; Have you not a Wife at Paris? No, Madam, indeed, said he, my Wife died the beginning of September last; which, it seems, was but a little after I came away.
We liv’d in the same House all this while; and as we lodg’d not far off of one-another, Opportunities were not wanting of as near an Acquaintance as we might desire; nor have such Opportunities the least Agency in vicious Minds, to bring to pass even what they might not intend at first.
However, tho’ he courted so much at a distance, yet his Pretensions149 were very honourable; and as I had before found him a most disinterested Friend, and perfectly honest in his Dealings, even when I trusted him with all I had; so now I found him strictly virtuous, till I made him otherwise myself, even almost, whether he wou’d or no; as you shall hear.
It was not long after our former Discourse, when he repeated what he had insinuated before, namely, that he had yet a Design to lay before me, which, if I wou’d agree to his Proposals, wou’d more than ballance all Accounts between us: I told him, I cou’d not reasonably deny him any-thing; and except one thing, which I hop’d and believ’d he wou’d not think of, I should think myself very ungrateful if I did not do every thing for him that lay in my Power.
He told me, what he should desire of me, wou’d be fully in my Power to grant, or else he shou’d be very unfriendly to offer it, and still, all this while, he declin’d making the Proposal, as he call’d it, and so, for that time, we ended our Discourse, turning it off to other things; so that, in short, I began to think he might have met with some Disaster in his Business, and might have come away from Paris in some Discredit; or had had some Blow on his Affairs in general; and as really I had Kindness enough to have parted with a good Sum to have help’d him, and was in Gratitude, bound to have done so, he having so effectually sav’d to me all I had; so I resolv’d to make him the Offer, the first time I had an Opportunity, which, two or three Days after, offer’d itself, very much to my Satisfaction.
He had told me at large, tho’ on several Occasions, the Treatment he had met with from the Jew, and what Ex-pence he had put him to; how at length he had cast150 him, as above, and had recover’d good Damage of him, but that the Rogue was unable to make him any considerable Reparation; he had told me also, how the Prince d’;—’s Gentleman had resented his Treatment of his Master; and how he had caus’d him to be us’d upon the Pont Neuf, &c. as I have mention’d above; which I laugh’d at most heartily.
It is pity, said I, that I should sit here, and make that Gentleman no Amends; if you wou’d direct me, Sir, said I, how to do it, I wou’d make him a handsome Present, and acknowledge the Justice he had done to me, as well as to the Prince, his Master: He said he wou’d do what I directed in it; so I told him, I would send him 500 Crowns; that’s too much, said he, for you are but half interested in the Usage of the Jew; it was on his Master’s Account he corrected him, not on yours: Well, however, we were oblig’d to do nothing in it, for neither of us knew how to direct a Letter to him, or to direct any-body to him; so I told him, I wou’d leave it till I came to England, for that my Woman, Amy, corresponded with him, and that he had made Love to her.
Well, but Sir, said I, as in requital for his generous Concern for me, I am careful to think of him; it is but just, that what Expence you have been oblig’d to be at, which was all on my Account, shou’d be repaid you; and therefore, said I, let me see – and there I paus’d, and began to reckon up what I had observ’d from his own Discourse, it had cost him in the several Disputes, and Hearings, which he had with that Dog of a Jew, and I cast them up at something above 2130 Crowns; so I pull’d out some Bills which I had upon a Merchant in Amsterdam, and a particular Account in Bank, and was looking on them, in order to give them to him.
When he seeing evidently what I was going about, interrupted me with some Warmth, and told me, he wou’d have nothing of me on that Account, and desir’d I wou’d not pull out my Bills and Papers on that Score; that he had not told me the Story on that Account, or with any such View; that it had been his Misfortune first to bring that ugly Rogue to me, which, tho’ it was with a good Design, yet he wou’d punish himself with the Expence he had been at, for his being so unlucky to me; that I cou’d not think so hard of him, as to suppose he wou’d take Money of me, a Widow, for serving me, and doing Acts of Kindness to me in a strange Country, and in Distress too; but, he said, he wou’d repeat what he had said before, that he kept me for a deeper Reckoning, and that, as he had told me, he would put me into a Posture to Even151 all that Favour, as I call’d it, at once, so we shou’d talk it over another time, and ballance all together.
Now I expected it wou’d come out, but still he put it off, as before, from whence I concluded, it cou’d not be Matter of Love, for that those things are not usually delay’d in such a manner, and therefore it must be Matter of Money; upon which Thought, I broke the Silence, and told him, that as he knew I had, by Obligation, more Kindness for him, than to deny any Favour to him that I could grant, and that he seem’d backward to mention his Case; I begg’d Leave of him to give me Leave to ask him, whether any-thing lay upon his Mind, with respect to his Business and Effects in the World? that if it did, he knew what I had in the World, as well as I did; and that if he wanted Money, I wou’d let him have any Sum for his Occasion, as far as five or six Thousand Pistoles, and he shou’d pay me as his own Affairs wou’d permit; and that, if he never paid me, I wou’d assure him, that I wou’d never give him any Trouble for it.
He rise up with Ceremony, and gave me Thanks, in Terms that sufficiently told me, he had been bred among People more polite, and more courteous, than is esteem’d the ordinary Usage of the Dutch;152 and after his Compliment was over, he came nearer to me, and told me, that he was oblig’d to assure me, tho’ with repeated Acknowledgements of my kind Offer, that he was not in any want of Money; that he had met with no Uneasiness in any of his Affairs, no not of any Kind whatever, except that of the Loss of his Wife, and one of his Children, which indeed, had troubled him much; but that this was no Part of what he had to offer to me, and by granting which, I shou’d ballance all Obligations; but that, in short, it was that seeing Providence had (as it were for that Purpose) taken his Wife from him, I wou’d make up the Loss to him; and with that, he held me fast in his Arms, and kissing me, wou’d not give me Leave to say No, and hardly to Breathe.
At length, having got room to speak, I told him, that, as I had said before, I could deny him but one thing in the World; I was very sorry he shou’d propose that thing only that I cou’d not grant.
I could not but smile however, to myself, that he shou’d make so many Circles, and round-about Motions, to come at a Discourse which had no such rarity at the Bottom of it, if he had known all: But there was another Reason why I resolv’d not to have him, when, at the same time, if he had courted me in a Manner less honest or virtuous, I believe I shou’d not have denied him; but I shall come to that Part presently.
He was, as I have said, long a-bringing it out, but when he had brought it out, he pursued it with such Importunities, as would admit of no Denial, at least he intended they shou’d not; but I resisted them obstinately, and yet with Expressions of the utmost Kindness and Respect for him that cou’d be imagin’d; often telling him, there was nothing else in the World that I cou’d deny him, and shewing him all the Respect, and upon all Occasions treating him with Intimacy and Freedom, as if he had been my Brother.
He tried all the Ways imaginable to bring his Design to pass, but I was inflexible; at last, he thought of a Way, which, he flatter’d himself, wou’d not fail; nor would he have been mistaken perhaps, in any other Woman in the World, but me; this was, to try if he cou’d take me at an Advantage, and get to-Bed to me, and then, as was most rational to think, I should willingly enough marry him afterwards.
We were so intimate together, that nothing but Man and Wife could, or at least ought to be, more; but still our Freedoms kept within the Bounds of Modesty and Decency; But one Evening, above all the rest, we were very merry, and I fancy’d he push’d the Mirth to watch for his Advantage; and I resolv’d that I wou’d, at least, feign to be as merry as he; and that, in short, if he offer’d any-thing, he shou’d have his Will easily enough.
About One a-Clock in the Morning, for so long we sat up together, I said, Come, ’tis One a-Clock, I must go to-Bed; Well, says he, I’ll go with you; No, No, says I, go to your own Chamber; he said he wou’d go to-Bed with me: Nay, says I, if you will, I don’t know what to say; if I can’t help it, you must: However, I got from him, left him, and went into my Chamber, but did not shut the Door; and as he cou’d easily see that I was undressing myself, he steps to his own Room, which was but on the same Floor, and in a few Minutes undresses himself also, and returns to my Door in his Gown and Slippers.
I thought he had been gone indeed, and so that he had been in jest; and by the way, thought either he had no-mind to the thing, or that he never intended it; so I shut my Door, that is, latch’d it, for I seldom lock’d or bolted it, and went to-Bed; I had not been in-Bed a Minute, but he comes in his Gown, to the Door, and opens it a little-way, but not enough to come in, or look in, and says softly, What are you really gone to-Bed? Yes, yes, says I, get you gone: No indeed, says he, I shall not begone, you gave me Leave before, to come to-Bed, and you shan’t say get you gone now: So he comes into my Room, and then turns about, and fastens the Door, and immediately comes to the Bedside to me: I pretended to scold and struggle, and bid him begone, with more Warmth than before; but it was all one; he had not a Rag of Cloaths on, but his Gown and Slippers, and Shirt; so he throws off his Gown, and throws open the Bed, and came in at once.
I made a seeming Resistance, but it was no more indeed; for, as above, I resolv’d from the Beginning, he shou’d Lye with me if he wou’d, and for the rest, I left it to come after.
Well, he lay with me that Night, and the two next, and very merry we were all the three Days between; but the third Night he began to be a little more grave: Now, my Dear, says he, tho’ I have push’d this Matter farther than ever I intended; or than, I believe, you expected from me, who never made any Pretences to you but what were very honest; yet to heal it all up, and let you see how sincerely I meant at first, and how honest I will ever be to you, I am ready to marry you still, and desire you to let it be done to-Morrow Morning; and I will give you the same fair Conditions of Marriage as I wou’d have done before.
This, it must be own’d, was a Testimony that he was very honest, and that he lov’d me sincerely; but I construed it quite another Way, namely, that he aim’d at the Money: But how surpriz’d did he look! and how was he confounded, when he found me receive his Proposal with Coldness and Indifference! and still tell him, that it was the only thing I cou’d not grant!
He was astonish’d! What, not take me now! says he, when I have been a-Bed with you! I answer’d coldly, tho’ respectfully still, It is true, to my Shame be it spoken, says I, that you have taken me by Surprize, and have had your Will of me; but I hope you will not take it ill that I cannot consent to Marry, for-all that; if I am with-Child, said I, Care must be taken to manage that as you shall direct; I hope you won’t expose me, for my having expos’d myself to you, but I cannot go any farther; and at that Point I stood, and wou’d hear of no Matrimony, by any means.
Now because this may seem a little odd, I shall state the Matter clearly, as I understood it myself; I knew that while I was a Mistress, it is customary for the Person kept, to receive from them that keep; but if I shou’d be a Wife, all I had then, was given up to the Husband, and I was thenceforth to be under his Authority only; and as I had Money enough, and needed not fear being what they call a cast-off Mistress, so I had no need to give him twenty Thousand Pound to marry me, which had been buying my Lodging too dear a great deal.
Thus his Project of coming to-Bed to me, was a Bite153 upon himself, while he intended it for a Bite upon me; and he was no nearer his Aim of marrying me, than he was before; all his Arguments he could urge upon the Subject of Matrimony, were at an End, for I positively declin’d marrying him; and as he had refus’d the thousand Pistoles which I had offer’d him in Compensation for his Expenses and Loss, at Paris, with the Jew, and had done it upon the Hopes he had of marrying me; so when he found his Way difficult still, he was amaz’d, and, I had some Reason to believe, repented that he had refus’d the Money.
But thus it is when Men run into wicked Measures, to bring their Designs about; I that was infinitely oblig’d to him before, began to talk to him, as if I had ballanc’d Accounts with him now; and that the Favour of Lying with a Whore, was equal, not to the thousand Pistoles only, but to all the Debt I ow’d him, for saving my Life, and all my Effects.
But he drew himself into it, and tho’ it was a dear Bargain, yet it was a Bargain of his own making; he cou’d not say I had trick’d him into it; but as he projected and drew me in to lye with him, depending that it was a sure Game in order to154 a Marriage, so I granted him the Favour, as he call’d it, to ballance the Account of Favours receiv’d from him, and keep the thousand Pistoles with a good Grace.
He was extremely disappointed in this Article, and knew not how to manage for a great-while; and as I dare say, if he had not expected to have made it an Earnest for marrying me, he would never have attempted me the other way; so, I believ’d, if it had not been for the Money, which he knew I had, he wou’d never have desir’d to marry me after he had lain with me: For, where is the Man that cares to marry a Whore, tho’ of his own making? And as I knew him to be no Fool, so I did him no Wrong, when I suppos’d that, but for the Money, he wou’d not have had any Thoughts of me that Way; especially after my yielding as I had done; in which it is to be remember’d, that I made no Capitulation for marrying him, when I yielded to him, but let him do just what he pleas’d, without any previous Bargain.
Well, hitherto we went upon Guesses at one-another’s Designs; but as he continued to importune me to marry, tho’ he had lain with me, and still did lye with me as often as he pleas’d, and I continued to refuse to marry him, tho’ I let him lye with me whenever he desir’d it; I say, as these two Circumstances made up our Conversation,155 it cou’d not continue long thus, but we must come to an Explanation.
One Morning, in the middle of our unlawful Freedoms, that is to say, when we were in Bed together; he sigh’d, and told me, he desir’d my Leave to ask me one Question, and that I wou’d give him an Answer to it with the same ingenuous Freedom and Honesty, that I had us’d to treat him with; I told him I wou’d: Why then his Question was, why I wou’d not marry him, seeing I allow’d him all the Freedom of a Husband? Or, says he, my Dear, since you have been so kind as to take me to your Bed, why will you not make me your Own, and take me for good-and-all, that we may enjoy ourselves, without any Reproach to one-another?
I told him, that as I confess’d it was the only thing I cou’d not comply with him in, so it was the only thing in all my Actions, that I could not give him a Reason for; that it was true, I had let him come to-Bed to me, which was suppos’d to be the greatest Favour a Woman could grant; but it was evident, and he might see it, that as I was sensible of the Obligation I was under to him, for saving me from the worst Circumstance it was possible for me to be brought to, I could deny him nothing; and if I had had any greater Favour to yield him, I should have done it, that of Matrimony only excepted, and he cou’d not but see that I lov’d him to an extraordinary Degree, in every Part of my Behaviour to him; but that as to marrying, which was giving up my Liberty, it was what once he knew I had done, and he had seen how it had hurried me up and down in the World, and what it had expos’d me to; that I had an Aversion to it, and desir’d he wou’d not insist upon it; he might easily see I had no Aversion to him; and that if I was with-Child by him, he shou’d see a Testimony of my Kindness to the Father, for that I wou’d settle all I had in the World upon the Child.
He was mute a good-while; at last, says he, Come, my Dear, you are the first Woman in the World that ever lay with a Man, and then refus’d to marry him, and therefore there must be some other Reason for your Refusal; and I have therefore, one other Request, and that is, If I guess at the true Reason, and remove the Objection, will you then yield to me? I told him, if he remov’d the Objection, I must needs comply, for I shou’d certainly do every-thing that I had no Objection against.
Why then, my Dear, it must be, that either you are already engag’d, and marry’d to some other Man, or you are not willing to dispose of your Money to me, and expect to advance yourself higher with your Fortune; now, if it be the first of these, my Mouth will be stopp’d, and I have no more to say; but if it be the last, I am prepar’d effectually to remove the Objection, and answer all you can say on that Subject.
I took him up short at the first of these; telling him, He must have base Thoughts of me indeed, to think that I could yield to him in such a Manner as I had done, and continue it with so much Freedom, as he found I did, if I had a Husband, or were engag’d to any other Man; and that he might depend upon it, that was not my Case, nor any Part of my Case.
Why then, said he, as to the other, I have an Offer to make to you, that shall take off all the Objection, viz. That I will not touch one Pistole of your Estate, more, than shall be with your own voluntary Consent; neither now, or at any other time, but you shall settle it as you please, for your Life, and upon who you please after your Death; that I shou’d see he was able to maintain me without it; and that it was not for that, that he follow’d me from Paris.
I was indeed, surpriz’d at that Part of his Offer, and he might easily perceive it; it was not only what I did not expect, but it was what I knew not what Answer to make to: He had indeed, remov’d my principal Objection, nay, all my Objections, and it was not possible for me to give any Answer; for if upon so generous an Offer I shou’d agree with him, I then did as good as confess, that it was upon the Account of my Money that I refus’d him; and that tho’ I cou’d give up my Virtue, and expose myself, yet I wou’d not give up my Money, which, tho’ it was true, yet was really too gross for me to acknowledge, and I cou’d not pretend to marry him upon that Principle neither; then as to having him, and make over all my Estate out of his Hands, so as not to give him the Management of what I had, I thought it would be not only a little Gothick and Inhumane, but would be always a Foundation of Unkindness between us, and render us suspected one to another; so that, upon the whole, I was oblig’d to give a new Turn to it, and talk upon a kind of an elevated Strain, which really was not in my Thoughts at first, at-all; for I own, as above, the divesting myself of my Estate, and putting my Money out of my Hand, was the Sum of the Matter, that made me refuse to marry; but, I say, I gave it a new Turn, upon this Occasion, as follows:
I told him, I had, perhaps, differing Notions of Matrimony, from what the receiv’d Custom had given us of it; that I thought a Woman was a free Agent, as well as a Man, and was born free, and cou’d she manage herself suitably, might enjoy that Liberty to as much Purpose as the Men do; that the Laws of Matrimony were indeed, otherwise, and Mankind at this time, acted quite upon other Principles; and those such, that a Woman gave herself entirely away from herself, in Marriage, and capitulated only to be, at best, but an Upper-Servant, and from the time she took the Man, she was no better or worse than the Servant among the Israelities,156 who had his Ears bor’d, that is, nail’d to the Door-Post; who by that Act, give himself up to be a Servant during Life.
That the very Nature of the Marriage-Contract was, in short, nothing but giving up Liberty, Estate, Authority, and every-thing, to the Man, and the Woman was indeed, a meer Woman ever after, that is to say, a Slave.
He reply’d, that tho’ in some Respects it was as I had said, yet I ought to consider, that as an Equivalent to this, the Man had all the Care of things devolv’d upon him; that the Weight of Business lay upon his Shoulders, and as he had the Trust, so he had the Toil of Life upon him, his was the Labour, his the Anxiety of Living; that the Woman had nothing to do, but to eat the Fat, and drink the Sweet; to sit still, and look round her; be waited on, and made much of; be serv’d, and lov’d, and made easie; especially if the Husband acted as became him; and that, in general, the Labour of the Man was appointed to make the Woman live quiet and unconcern’d in the World; that they had the Name of Subjection, without the Thing; and if in inferiour Families, they had the Drudgery of the House, and Care of the Provisions upon them; yet they had indeed, much the easier Part; for in general, the Women had only the Care of managing, that is, spending what their Husbands get; and that a Woman had the Name of Subjection indeed, but that they generally commanded not the Men only, but all they had; manag’d all for themselves, and where the Man did his Duty, the Woman’s Life was all Ease and Tranquility; and that she had nothing to do but to be easie, and to make all that were about her both easie and merry.
I return’d, that while a Woman was single, she was a Masculine in her politick Capacity;157 that she had then the full Command of what she had, and the full Direction of what she did; that she was a Man in her separated Capacity,158 to all Intents and Purposes that a Man cou’d be so to himself; that she was controul’d by none, because accountable to none, and was in Subjection to none; so I sung these two Lines of Mr.—’s.
O! ’tis pleasant to be free,
The sweetest MISS is Liberty.159
I added, that whoever the Woman was, that had an Estate, and would give it up to be the Slave of a Great Man, that Woman was a Fool, and must be fit for nothing but a Beggar; that it was my Opinion, a Woman was as fit to govern and enjoy her own Estate, without a Man, as a Man was, without a Woman; and that, if she had a-mind to gratifie herself as to Sexes, she might entertain a Man, as a Man does a Mistress; that while she was thus single, she was her own, and if she gave away that Power, she merited to be as miserable as it was possible that any Creature cou’d be.
All he cou’d say, cou’d not answer the Force of this, as to Argument; only this, that the other Way was the ordinary Method that the World was guided by; that he had Reason to expect I shou’d be content with that which all the World was contented with; that he was of the Opinion, that a sincere Affection160 between a Man and his Wife, answer’d all the Objections that I had made about the being a Slave, a Servant, and the like; and where there was a mutual Love, there cou’d be no Bondage; but that there was but one Interest; one Aim; one Design; and all conspir’d to make both very happy.
Ay, said I, that is the Thing I complain of; the Pretence of Affection, takes from a Woman every thing that can be call’d herself; she is to have no Interest; no Aim; no View; but all is the Interest, Aim, and View, of the Husband; she is to be the passive Creature you spoke of, said I; she is to lead a Life of perfect Indolence, and living by Faith (not in God, but) in her Husband, she sinks or swims, as he is either Fool or wise Man; unhappy or prosperous; and in the middle of what she thinks is her Happiness and Prosperity, she is ingulph’d in Misery and Beggary, which she had not the least Notice, Knowledge, or Suspicion of: How often have I seen a Woman living in all the Splendor that a plentiful Fortune ought to allow her? with her Coaches and Equipages; her Family, and rich Furniture; her Attendants and Friends; her Visiters, and good Company, all about her to-Day; to-Morrow surpriz’d with a Disaster; turn’d out of all by a Commission of Bankrupt; stripp’d to the Cloaths on her Back; her Jointure, suppose she had it, is sacrific’d to the Creditors, so long as her Husband liv’d, and she turn’d into the Street, and left to live on the Charity of her Friends, if she has any, or follow the Monarch, her Husband, into the Mint,161 and live there on the Wreck of his Fortunes, till he is forc’d to run away from her, even there; and then she sees her Children starve; herself miserable; breaks her Heart; and cries herself to Death? This, says I, is the State of many a Lady that has had ten Thousand Pound to her Portion.
He did not know how feelingly I spoke this, and what Extremities I had gone thro’ of this Kind; how near I was to the very last Article above, viz. crying myself to Death; and how I really starv’d for almost two Years together.
But he shook his Head, and said, Where had I liv’d? and what dreadful Families had I liv’d among, that had frighted me into such terrible Apprehensions of things? that these things indeed, might happen where Men run into hazardous things in Trade, and without Prudence, or due Consideration, launch’d their Fortunes in a Degree beyond their Strength, grasping at Adventures beyond their Stocks, and the like; but that, as he was stated in the World, if I wou’d embark with him, he had a Fortune equal with mine; that together, we should have no Occasion of engaging in Business any more; but that in any Part of the World where I had a-mind to live, whether England, France, Holland, or where I would, we might settle, and live, as happily as the World could make any one live; that if I desir’d the Management of our Estate, when put together, if I wou’d not trust him with mine, he would trust me with his; that we wou’d be upon one Bottom, and I shou’d steer: Ay, says I, you’ll allow me to steer, that is, hold the Helm, but you’ll conn162 the Ship, as they call it; that is, as at Sea, a Boy serves to stand at the Helm, but he that gives him the Orders, is Pilot.
He laugh’d at my Simile; No, says he, you shall be Pilot then, you shall conn the Ship; ay, says I, as long as you please, but you can take the Helm out of my Hand when you please, and bid me go spin: It is not you, says I, that I suspect, but the Laws of Matrimony puts the Power into your Hands; bids you do it, commands you to command; and binds me, forsooth, to obey; you, that are now upon even Terms with me, and I with you, says I, are the next Hour set up upon the Throne, and the humble Wife plac’d at your Footstool; all the rest, all that you call Oneness of Interest, Mutual Affection, and the like, is Curtesie and Kindness then, and a Woman is indeed, infinitely oblig’d where she meets with it; but can’t help herself where it fails.
Well, he did not give it over yet, but came to the serious Part, and there he thought he should be too many for me; he first hinted, that Marriage was decreed by Heaven; that it was the fix’d State of Life, which God had appointed for Man’s Felicity, and for establishing a legal Posterity; that there cou’d be no legal Claim of Estates by Inheritance, but by Children born in Wedlock; that all the rest was sunk under Scandal and Illegitimacy; and very well he talk’s upon that Subject, indeed.
But it wou’d not do; I took him short there; Look you, Sir, said I, you have an Advantage of me there indeed, in my particular Case; but it wou’d not be generous to make use of it; I readily grant, that it were better for me to have marry’d you, than to admit you to the Liberty I have given you; but as I cou’d not reconcile my Judgment to Marriage, for the Reasons above, and had Kindness enough for you, and Obligation too much on me, to resist you, I suffer’d your Rudeness, and gave up my Virtue; but I have two things before me to heal up that Breach of Honour, without that desperate one of Marriage; and those are, Repentance for what is past, and putting an End to it for Time to come.
He seem’d to be concern’d, to think that I shou’d take him in that Manner; he assur’d me that I mis-understood him; that he had more Manners, as well as more Kindness for me; and more Justice, than to reproach me with what he had been the Agressor in, and had surpriz’d me into; That what he spoke, refer’d to my Words above; that the Woman, if she thought fit, might entertain a Man, as the Man did a Mistress; and that I seem’d to mention that way of Living as justifiable, and setting it as a lawful thing, and in the Place of Matrimony.
Well, we strain’d some Compliments upon those Points, not worth repeating; and I added, I suppos’d when he got to-Bed to me, he thought himself sure of me; and indeed, in the ordinary Course of things, after he had lain with me, he ought to think so; but that, upon the same foot of Argument which I had discours’d with him upon, it was just the contrary; and when a Woman had been weak enough to yield up the last Point before Wedlock, it wou’d be adding one Weakness to another, to take the Man afterwards; to pin down the Shame of it upon herself all Days of her Life, and bind herself to live all her Time with the only Man that cou’d upbraid her with it; that in yielding at first, she must be a Fool, but to take the Man, is to be sure to be call’d Fool; that to resist a Man, is to act with Courage and Vigour, and to cast off the Reproach, which, in the Course of things, drops out of Knowledge, and dies; the Man goes one-way, and the Woman another, as Fate, and the Circumstances of Living direct; and if they keep one-another’s Council, the Folly is heard no more of; but to take the Man, says I, is the most preposterous thing in Nature, and (saving your Presence) is to befoul one’s-self, and live always in the Smell of it; No, no, added I, after a Man has lain with me as a Mistress, he ought never to lye with me as a Wife; that’s not only preserving the Crime in Memory, but it is recording it in the Family; if the Woman marries the Man afterwards, she bears the Reproach of it to the last Hour; if her Husband is not a Man of a hundred Thousand, he sometime or other upbraids her with it; if he has Children, they fail not one way or other, to hear of it; if the Children are virtuous, they do their Mother the Justice to hate her for it; if they are wicked, they give her the Mortification of doing the like, and giving her for the Example: On the other-hand, if the Man and the Woman part, there is an End of the Crime, and an End of the Clamour; Time wears out the Memory of it; or a Woman may remove but a few Streets, and she soon out-lives it, and hears no more of it.
He was confounded at this Discourse, and told me, he cou’d not say but I was right in the Main; that as to that Part relating to managing Estates, it was arguing a la Cavalier,163 it was in some Sence, right, if the Women were able to carry it on so, but that in general, the Sex were not capable of it; their Heads were not turn’d for it, and they had better choose a Person capable, and honest, that knew how to do them Justice, as Women, as well as to love them; and that then the Trouble was all taken off of their Hands.
I told him, it was a dear Way of purchasing their Ease; for very often when the Trouble was taken off of their Hands, so was their Money too; and that I thought it was far safer for the Sex not to be afraid of the Trouble, but to be really afraid of their Money; that if no-body was trusted, no-body wou’d be deceiv’d; and the Staff in their own Hands, was the best Security in the World.
He reply’d, that I had started a new thing in the World; that however I might support it by subtle reasoning, yet it was a way of arguing that was contrary to the general Practice, and that he confess’d he was much disappointed in it; that had he known I wou’d have made such a Use of it, he wou’d never have attempted what he did, which he had no wicked Design in, resolving to make me Reparation, and that he was very sorry he had been so unhappy; that he was very sure he shou’d never upbraid me with it hereafter, and had so good an Opinion of me, as to believe I did not suspect him; but seeing I was positive in refusing him, notwithstanding what had pass’d, he had nothing to do but to secure me from Reproach, by going back again to Paris, that so, according to my own way of arguing, it might die out of Memory, and I might never meet with it again to my Disadvantage.
I was not pleas’d with this Part at-all, for I had no-mind to let him go neither; and yet I had no-mind to give him such hold of me as he wou’d have had; and thus I was in a kind of suspence, irresolute, and doubtful what Course to take.
I was in the House with him, as I have observ’d, and I saw evidently that he was preparing to go back to Paris; and particularly, I found he was remitting Money to Paris, which was, as I understood afterwards, to pay for some Wines which he had given Order to have bought for him, at Troyes in Champagne; and I knew not what Course to take; and besides that, I was very loth to part with him; I found also, that I was with-Child by him, which was what I had not yet told him of; and sometimes I thought not to tell him of it at-all; but I was in a strange Place, and had no Acquaintance, tho’ I had a great deal of Substance, which indeed, having no Friends there, was the more dangerous to me.
This oblig’d me to take him one Morning, when I saw him, as I thought, a little anxious about his going, and irresolute; says I to him, I fancy you can hardly find in your Heart to leave me now: The more unkind is it in you, said he, severely unkind, to refuse a Man that knows not how to part with you.
I am so far from being unkind to you, said I, that I will go all over the World with you, if you desir’d me, except to Paris, where you know I can’t go.
It is pity so much Love, said he, on both Sides, shou’d ever separate.
Why then, said I, do you go away from me?
Because, said he, you won’t take me.
But if I won’t take you, said I, you may take me, anywhere, but to Paris.
He was very loth to go any-where, he said, without me; but he must go to Paris, or to the East-Indies.
I told him I did not use to court,164 but I durst venture myself to the East-Indies with him, if there was a Necessity of his going.
He told me, God be thank’d, he was in no Necessity of going any-where, but that he had a tempting Invitation to go to the Indies.
I answer’d, I wou’d say nothing to that; but that I desir’d he wou’d go any-where but to Paris; because there he knew I must not go.
He said he had no Remedy, but to go where I cou’d not go; for he cou’d not bear to see me, if he must not have me.
I told him, that was the unkindest thing he cou’d say of me, and that I ought to take it very ill, seeing I knew how very well to oblige him to stay, without yielding to what he knew I cou’d not yield to.
This amaz’d him, and he told me, I was pleas’d to be mysterious; but, that he was sure it was in no-body’s Power to hinder him going, if he resolv’d upon it, except me; who had Influence enough upon him to make him do any-thing.
Yes, I told him, I cou’d hinder him, because I knew he cou’d no more do an unkind thing by me, than he cou’d do an unjust one; and to put him out of his Pain, I told him I was with-Child.
He came to me, and taking me in his Arms, and kissing me a Thousand times almost, said, Why wou’d I be so unkind, not to tell him that before?
I told him, ’twas hard, that, to have him stay, I shou’d be forc’d to do as Criminals do to avoid the Gallows, plead my Belly; and that I thought I had given him Testimonies enough of an Affection equal to that of a Wife; if I had not only lain with him; been with-Child by him; shewn myself unwilling to part with him; but offer’d to go to the East-Indies with him; and except One Thing that I cou’d not grant, what cou’d he ask more?
He stood mute a good-while; but afterwards told me, he had a great-deal more to say, if I cou’d assure him, that I wou’d not take ill whatever Freedom he might use with me in his Discourse.
I told him, he might use any Freedom in Words with me; for a Woman who had given Leave to such other Freedoms, as I had done, had left herself no room to take any-thing ill, let it be what it wou’d.
Why then, he said, I hope you believe, Madam, I was born a Christian, and that I have some Sence of Sacred Things upon my Mind; when I first broke-in upon my own Virtue, and assaulted yours; when I surpriz’d, and, as it were, forc’d you to that which neither you intended, or I design’d, but a few Hours before, it was upon a Presumption that you wou’d certainly marry me, if once I cou’d go that Length with you; and it was with an honest Resolution to make you my Wife.
But I have been surpriz’d with such a Denial, that no Woman in such Circumstances ever gave to a Man; for certainly it was never known, that any Woman refus’d to marry a Man that had first lain with her, much less a Man that had gotten her with-Child; but you go upon different Notions from all the World; and tho’ you reason upon it so strongly, that a Man knows hardly what to answer, yet I must own, there is something in it shocking to Nature, and something very unkind to yourself; but above all, it is unkind to the Child that is yet unborn; who, if we marry, will come into the World with Advantage enough, but if not, is ruin’d before it is born; must bear the eternal Reproach of what it is not guilty of; must be branded from its Cradle with a Mark of Infamy; be loaded with the Crimes and Follies of its Parents, and suffer for Sins that it never committed: This I take to be very hard, and indeed cruel to the poor Infant not yet born, who you cannot think of, with any Patience, if you have the common Affection of a Mother, and not do that for it, which shou’d at once place it on a Level with the rest of the World; and not leave it to curse its Parents for what also we ought to be asham’d of: I cannot, therefore, says he, but beg and intreat you, as you are a Christian, and a Mother, not to let the innocent Lamb you go with, be ruin’d before it is born, and leave it to curse and reproach us hereafter, for what may be so easily avoided.
Then, dear Madam, said he, with a World of Tenderness, (and I thought I saw Tears in his Eyes) allow me to repeat it, that I am a Christian, and consequently I do not allow what I have rashly, and without due Consideration, done; I say, I do not approve of it as lawful; and therefore tho’ I did, with a View I have mention’d, one unjustifiable Action, I cannot say, that I cou’d satisfie myself to live in a continual Practice of what, in Judgement, we must both condemn; and tho’ I love you above all the Women in the World, and have done enough to convince you of it, by resolving to marry you after what has pass’d between us, and by offering to quit all Pretensions to any Part of your Estate, so that I shou’d, as it were, take a Wife after I had lain with her, and without a Farthing Portion; which, as my Circumstances are, I need not do; I say, notwithstanding my Affection to you, which is inexpressible, yet I cannot give up Soul as well as Body, the Interest of this World, and the Hopes of another; and you cannot call this my Disrespect to you.
If ever any Man in the World was truly valuable for the strictest honesty of Intention, this was the Man; and if ever Woman in her Senses rejected a Man of Merit, on so trivial and frivolous a Pretence, I was the Woman; but surely it was the most preposterous thing that ever Woman did.
He would have taken me as a Wife, but would not entertain me as a Whore; was ever Woman angry with any Gentleman on that head? and was ever Woman so stupid to choose to be a Whore, where she might have been an honest Wife? But Infatuations are next to being possess’d of the Devil; I was inflexible, and pretended165 to argue upon the Point of a Woman’s Liberty, as before; but he took me short, and with more Warmth than he had yet us’d with me, tho’ with the utmost Respect; reply’d, Dear Madam, you argue for Liberty at the same time that you restrain yourself from that Liberty, which God and Nature has directed you to take; and to supply the Deficiency, propose a vicious Liberty, which is neither honourable or religious; will you propose Liberty at the Expence of Modesty?
I return’d, that he mistook me; I did not propose it; I only said, that those that cou’d not be content without concerning the Sexes in that Affair, might do so indeed; might entertain a Man as Men do a Mistress, if they thought fit, but he did not hear me say I wou’d do so; and tho’, by what had pass’d, he might well censure me in that Part, yet he should find, for the future, that I should freely converse with him without any Inclination that way.
He told me, he cou’d not promise that for himself, and thought he ought not to trust himself with the Opportunity; for that, as he had fail’d already, he was loth to lead himself into the Temptation of offending again; and that this was the true Reason of his resolving to go back to Paris; not that he cou’d willingly leave me, and would be very far from wanting my Invitation; but if he could not stay upon Terms that became him, either as an honest Man, or a Christian, what cou’d he do? and he hop’d, he said, I cou’d not blame him, that he was unwilling any thing that was to call him Father, shou’d upbraid him with leaving him in the World, to be call’d Bastard; adding, that he was astonish’d to think how I could satisfie myself to be so cruel to an innocent Infant, not yet born; profess’d he cou’d neither bear the Thoughts of it, much less bear to see it, and hop’d I wou’d not take it ill that he cou’d not stay to see me Deliver’d, for that very Reason.
I saw he spoke this with a disturb’d Mind, and that it was with some Difficulty that he restrain’d his Passion; so I declin’d any farther Discourse upon it; only said, I hop’d he.wou’d consider of it: O Madam! says he, Do not bid me consider, ’tis for you to consider; and with that he went out of the Room, in a strange kind of Confusion, as was easie to be seen in his Countenance.
If I had not been one of the foolishest, as well as wickedest Creatures upon Earth, I cou’d never have acted thus; I had one of the honestest compleatest Gentlemen upon Earth, at my hand; he had in one Sence sav’d my Life, but he had sav’d that Life from Ruin in a most remarkable Manner; he lov’d me even to Distraction, and had come from Paris to Rotterdam, on purpose to seek me; he had offer’d me Marriage, even after I was with-Child by him, and had offer’d to quit all his Pretensions to my Estate, and give it up to my own Management, having a plentiful Estate of his own: Here I might have settled myself out of the reach even of Disaster itself; his Estate and mine, wou’d have purchas’d even then above two Thousand Pounds a Year, and I might have liv’d like a Queen, nay, far more happy than a Queen; and which was above all, I had now an Opportunity to have quitted a Life of Crime and Debauchery, which I had been given up to for several Years, and to have sat down quiet in Plenty and Honour, and to have set myself apart to the Great Work, which I have since seen so much Necessity of and Occasion for; I mean that of Repentance.
But my Measure of Wickedness was not yet full;166 I continued obstinate against Matrimony, and yet I cou’d not bear the Thoughts of his going away neither; as to the Child, I was not very anxious about it; I told him, I wou’d promise him that it shou’d never come to him to upbraid him with its being illegitimate; that if it was a Boy, I wou’d breed it up like the Son of a Gentleman, and use it well for his sake; and after a little more such Talk as this, and seeing him resolv’d to go I retir’d, but cou’d not help letting him see the Tears run down my Cheeks; he came to me, and kiss’d me, entreated me, conjur’d me by the Kindness he had shewn me in my Distress; by the Justice he had done me in my Bills and Money-Affairs; by the Respect which made him refuse a Thousand Pistoles from me for his Expences with that Traytor, the Jew; by the Pledge of our Misfortunes, so he call’d it, which I carry’d with me; and by all that the sincerest Affection cou’d propose to do, that I wou’d not drive him away.
But it wou’d not do; I was stupid and senceless, deaf to all his Importunities, and continued so to the last; so we parted, only desiring me to promise that I would write him word when I was Deliver’d, and how he might give me an Answer; and this I engag’d my Word I would do; and upon his desiring to be inform’d which Way I intended to dispose of myself, I told him, I resolv’d to go directly to England, and to London, where I propos’d to Lye-in; but since he resolv’d to leave me, I told him, I suppos’d it wou’d be of no Consequence to him, what became of me.
He lay in his Lodgings that Night, but went away early in the Morning, leaving me a Letter, in which he repeated all he had said, recommended the Care of the Child, and desir’d of me, that as he had remitted to me the Offer of a Thousand Pistoles, which I wou’d have given him for the Recompence of his Charges and Trouble with the Jew, and had given it me back; so he desir’d I wou’d allow him to oblige me to set apart that Thousand Pistoles, with its Improvement, for the Child, and for its Education; earnestly pressing me to secure that little Portion for the abandon’d Orphan, when I shou’d think fit, as he was sure I wou’d, to throw away the rest upon something as worthless as my sincere Friend at Paris; he concluded with moving me to reflect with the same Regret as he did, on our Follies we had committed together; ask’d me Forgiveness for being the Agressor in the Fact; and forgave me every-thing, he said, but the Cruelty of refusing him, which he own’d he cou’d not forgive me so heartily as he shou’d do, because he was satisfied it was an Injury to myself; would be an Introduction to my Ruin; and that I wou’d seriously repent of it; he foretold some fatal things, which, he said, he was well assur’d I shou’d fall into; and that, at last I wou’d be ruin’d by a bad Husband; bid me be the more wary, that I might render him a False Prophet; but to remember, that if ever I came into Distress, I had a fast-Friend at Paris, who wou’d not upbraid me with the unkind things past, but wou’d be always ready to return me Good for Evil.
This Letter stunn’d me; I cou’d not think it possible for any-one, that had not dealt with the Devil, to write such a Letter; for he spoke of some particular things which afterwards were to befal me, with such an Assurance, that it frighted me before-hand; and when those things did come to pass, I was perswaded he had some more than humane Knowledge; in a word, his Advices to me to repent, were very affectionate; his Warnings of Evil to happen to me, were very kind; and his Promise of Assistance, if I wanted him, were so generous, that I have seldom seen the like; and tho’ I did not at first set much by that Part, because I look’d upon them as what might not happen, and as what was improbable to happen at that time; yet all the rest of his Letter was so moving, that it left me very melancholly, and I cry’d four and twenty Hours after, almost, with out ceasing, about it; and yet, even all this while, whatever it was that bewitch’d me, I had not one serious Wish that I had taken him; I wish’d heartily indeed, that I cou’d have kept him with me; but I had mortal Aversion to marrying him, or indeed, any-body else; but form’d a thousand wild Notions in my Head, that I was yet gay enough, and young, and handsome enough to please a Man of Quality; and that I wou’d try my Fortune at London, come of it what wou’d.
Thus blinded by my own Vanity, I threw away the only Opportunity I then had, to have effectually settl’d my Fortunes, and secur’d them for this World; and I am a Memorial to all that shall read my Story; a standing Monument of the Madness and Distraction which Pride and Infatuations from Hell runs us into; how ill our Passions guide us; and how dangerously we act, when we follow the Dictates of an ambitious Mind.
I was rich, beautiful, and agreeable, and not yet old; I had known something of the Influence I had had upon the Fancies of Men, even of the highest Rank; I never forgot that the Prince de — had said with an Extasie, that I was the finest Woman in France; I knew I cou’d make a Figure at London, and how well I cou’d grace that Figure; I was not at a Loss how to behave, and having already been ador’d by Princes, I thought of nothing less than of being Mistress to the King himself: But I go back to my immediate Circumstances at that time.
I got over the Absence of my honest Merchant but slowly at first; it was with infinite Regret that I let him go at-all; and when I read the Letter he left, I was quite confounded; as soon as he was out of Call, and irrecoverable, I woul’d have given half I had in the World, for him back again; my Notions of things chang’d in an Instant, and I call’d myself a thousand Fools, for casting myself upon a Life of Scandal and Hazard; when after the Shipwreck of Virtue, Honour, and Principle, and failing at the utmost Risque in the stormy Seas of Crime, and abominable Levity, I had a safe Harbour presented, and no Heart to cast-Anchor in it.
His Predictions terrify’d me; his Promises of Kindness if I came to Distress, melted me into Tears, but frighted me with the Apprehensions of ever coming into such Distress, and fill’d my Head with a thousand Anxieties and Thoughts, how it shou’d be possible for me, who had now such a Fortune, to sink again into Misery.
Then the dreadful Scene of my Life, when I was left with my five Children, &c. as I have related, represented itself again to me, and I sat considering what Measures I might take to bring myself to such a State of Desolation again, and how I shou’d act to avoid it.
But these things wore off gradually; as to my Friend, the Merchant, he was gone, and gone irrecoverably, for I durst not follow him to Paris, for the Reasons mention’d above; again, I was afraid to write to him to return, lest he shou’d have refus’d, as I verily believ’d he wou’d; so I sat and cry’d intollerably, for some Days, nay, I may say, for some Weeks; but I say, it wore off gradually; and as I had a pretty deal of Business for managing my Effects, the Hurry of that particular Part, serv’d to divert my Thoughts, and in part to wear out the Impressions which had been made upon my Mind.
I had sold my Jewels, all but the fine Diamond Ring, which my Gentleman, the Jeweller, us’d to wear; and this, at proper times, I wore myself; as also the Diamond Necklace, which the Prince had given me, and a Pair of extraordinary Ear-Rings, worth about 600 Pistoles; the other, which was a fine Casket, he left with me at his going to Versailles, and a Small Case with some Rubies and Emeralds, &c. I say, I sold them at the Hague for 7600 Pistoles; I had receiv’d all the Bills which the Merchant had help’d me to at Paris, and with the Money I brought with me, they made up 13900 Pistoles more; so that I had in Ready-Money, and in Account in the Bank at Amsterdam,167 above One and twenty Thousand Pistoles,168 besides Jewels; and how to get this Treasure to England, was my next Care.
The Business I had had now with a great many People, for receiving such large Sums, and selling Jewels of such considerable Value, gave me Opportunity to know and converse with several of the best Merchants of the Place; so that I wanted no Direction now, how to get my Money remitted to England; applying therefore, to several Merchants, that I might neither risque it all on the Credit of one Merchant, nor suffer any single Man to know the Quantity of Money I had; I say, applying myself to several Merchants, I got Bills of Exchange, payable in London; for all my Money; the first Bills I took with me; the second Bills169 I left in Trust, (in case of any Disaster at Sea) in the Hands of the first Merchant, him to whom I was recommended by my Friend from Paris.
Having thus spent nine Months in Holland; refus’d the best Offer ever Woman in my Circumstances had; parted unkindly, and indeed, barbarously with the best Friend, and honestest Man in the World; got all my Money in my Pocket, and a Bastard in my Belly, I took Shipping at the Briel,170 in the Packet-Boat, and arriv’d safe at Harwich, where my Woman, Amy, was come, by my Direction, to meet me.
I wou’d willingly have given ten Thousand Pounds of my Money, to have been rid of the Burthen I had in my Belly, as above; but it cou’d not be; so I was oblig’d to bear with that Part, and get rid of it by the ordinary Method of Patience, and a hard Travel.171
I was above the contemptible Usage that Women in my Circumstances oftentimes meet with; I had consider’d all that before-hand; and having sent Amy beforehand, and remitted her Money to do it, she had taken me a very handsome House, in — Street, near Charing-Cross; had hir’d me two Maids, and a Footman, who she had put in a good Livery, and having hir’d a Glass-Coach172 and four Horses, she came with them and the Man-Servant, to Harwich, to meet me, and had been there near a Week before I came; so I had nothing to do, but to go-away to London, to my own House, where I arriv’d in very good Health, and where I pass’d for a French Lady, by the Title of —.
My first Business was, to get all my Bills accepted; which, to cut the Story short, was all both accepted, and currently paid; and I then resolv’d to take me a Country-Lodging somewhere near the Town, to be Incognito, till I was brought-to-Bed; which, appearing in such a Figure, and having such an Equipage,173 I easily manag’d, without any-body’s offering the usual Insults of Parish-Enquiries:174 I did not appear in my new House for some time; and afterwards I thought fit, for particular Reasons, to quit that House, and not come to it at-all, but take handsome large Apartments in the Pall-mall,175 in a House, out of which was a private Door into the King’s Garden, by the Permission of the Chief Gardener, who had liv’d in the House.
I had now all my Effects secur’d; but my Money being my great Concern at that time, I found it a Difficulty how to dispose of it, so as to bring me in annual Interest; however, in some time I got a substantial safe Mortgage for 14000 Pound, by the Assistance of the famous Sir Robert Clayton,176 for which, I had an Estate of 1800 Pounds a Year bound to me; and had 700 Pounds per Annum Interest for it.
This, with some other Securities, made me a very handsome Estate, of above a Thousand Pounds a Year; enough, one wou’d think, to keep any Woman in England from being a Whore.
I Lay in at —, about four Miles from London, and brought a fine Boy into the World; and according to my Promise, sent an Account of it to my Friend at Paris, the Father of it; and in the Letter, told him how sorry I was for his going away, and did as good as intimate, that if he wou’d come once more to see me, I should use him better than I had done: He gave me a very kind and obliging Answer, but took not the least Notice of what I had said of his coming Over, so I found my Interest lost there for ever: He gave me Joy of the Child, and hinted, that he hop’d I wou’d make good what he had begg’d for the poor Infant, as I had promis’d; and I sent him word again, that I wou’d fullfil his Order to a Tittle; and such a Fool, and so weak I was in this last Letter, notwithstanding what I have said of his not taking Notice of my Invitation, as to ask his Pardon almost, for the Usage I gave him at Rotterdam, and stoop’d so low, as to expostulate with him for not taking Notice of my inviting him to come to me again, as I had done; and which was still more, went so far, as to make a second sort of an Offer to him, telling him almost in plain Words, that if he wou’d come Over now, I wou’d have him; but he never gave me the least Reply to it at-all, which was as absolute a Denial to me, as he was ever able to give; so I sat down, I cannot say contented, but vex’d heartily that I had made the Offer at-all; for he had, as I may say, his full Revenge of me, in scorning to answer, and to let me twice ask that of him, which he with so much Importunity begg’d of me before.
I was now up again, and soon came to my City Lodging, in the Pall-mall; and here I began to make a Figure suitable to my Estate, which was very great; and I shall give you an Account of my Equipage in a few Words, and of myself too.
I paid 60 l. a Year for my new Apartments, for I took them by the Year; but then, they were handsome Lodgings indeed, and very richly furnish’d; I kept my own Servants to clean and look after them; found my own Kitchen-Ware, and Firing;177 my Equipage was handsome, but not very great: I had a Coach, a Coachman, a Footman, my Woman, Amy, who I now dress’d like a Gentlewoman, and made her my Companion, and three Maids; and thus I liv’d for a time: I dress’d to the height of every Mode; went extremely rich in Cloaths; and as for Jewels, I wanted none; I gave a very good Livery lac’d with Silver, and as rich as any-body below the Nobility, cou’d be seen with: And thus I appear’d, leaving the World to guess who or what I was, without offering to put myself forward.
I walk’d sometimes in the Mall178 with my Woman, Amy; but I kept no Company, and made no Acquaintances, only made as gay a Show as I was able to do, and that upon all Occasions: I found however, the World was not altogether so unconcern’d about me, as I seem’d to be about them; and first, I understood that the Neighbours begun to be mighty inquisitive about me; as who I was? and what my Circumstances were?
Amy was the only Person that cou’d answer their Curiosity, or give any Account of me, and she a tattling Woman, and a true Gossip, took Care to do that with all the Art that she was Mistress of; she let them know, that I was the Widow of a Person of Quality in France; that I was very rich; that I came over hither to look after an Estate that fell to me by some of my Relations who died here; that I was worth 40000 l. all in my own Hands, and the like.
This was all wrong in Amy, and in me too, tho’ we did not see it at first; for this recommended me indeed, to those sort of Gentlemen they call Fortune-Hunters, and who always besieg’d Ladies, as they call’d it, on purpose to take them Prisoners, as I call’d it; that is to say, to marry the Women, and have the spending of their Money: But if I was wrong in refusing the honourable Proposals of the Dutch Merchant, who offer’d me the Disposal of my whole Estate, and had as much of his own to maintain me with; I was right now, in refusing those Offers which came generally from Gentlemen of good Families, and good Estates, but who living to the Extent of them, were always needy and necessitious, and wanted a Sum of Money to make themselves easie, as they call it; that is to say, to pay off Incumbrances, Sisters’ Portions, and the like; and then the Woman is Prisoner for Life, and may live as they please to give her Leave: This Life I had seen into clearly enough, and therefore I was not to be catch’d that way; however, as I said, the Reputation of my Money brought several of those sort of Gentry about me, and they found means, by one Stratagem or other, to get access to my Ladyship; but in short, I answer’d them all well enough; that I liv’d single, and was happy; that as I had no Occasion to change my Condition for an Estate, so I did not see, that by the best Offer that any of them cou’d make me, I cou’d mend my Fortune; that I might be honour’d with Titles indeed, and in time rank on publick Occasions with the Peeresses; I mention that, because one that offer’d at me, was the eldest Son of a Peer: But that I was as well without the Title, as long as I had the Estate; and while I had 2000 l. a Year of my own, I was happier than I cou’d be in being Prisoner of State to a Nobleman; for I took the Ladies of that Rank to be little better.
As I have mention’d Sir Robert Clayton, with whom I had the good Fortune to become acquainted, on account of the Mortgage which he help’d me to, it is necessary to take Notice, that I had much Advantage in my ordinary Affairs, by his Advice, and therefore I call it my good Fortune; for as he paid me so considerable an annual Income as 700 l. a Year, so I am to acknowledge myself much a Debtor, not only to the Justice of his Dealings with me, but to the Prudence and Conduct which he guided me to, by his Advice, for the Management of my Estate; and as he found I was not inclin’d to marry, he frequently took Occasion to hint, how soon I might raise my Fortune to a prodigious Height, if I wou’d but order my Family-Oeconomy so far within my Revenue, as to lay-up every Year something, to add to the Capital.
I was convinc’d of the Truth of what he said, and agreed to the Advantages of it; you are to take it as you go, that Sir Robert suppos’d by my own Discourse, and especially, by my Woman, Amy, that I had 2000 l.
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