MOLL FLANDERS
AND
ROXANA
'j \ vUT
THE FORTUNES AND MISFOR
TUNES OF THE FAMOUS MOLL
FLANDERS : ALSO THE FORTUN
ATE MISTRESS OR THE LADY
ROXANA By DANIEL DEFOE
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY E. A. BAKER, M.A.
THIRD IMPRESSION
A*
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
NEW YORK: E. P. BUTTON AND CO.
PR,
not
T>-;- ted in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner Ltd., Frome and London
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION vn
MOLL FLANDERS xxv
ROXANA 193
INTRODUCTION
DIFFERENT landmarks are assigned by different authorities as
the starting-point of the modern English novel. Most critics
would fix the Pillars of Hercules at 'Fielding and Richardson.
Pamela and Fielding's burlesque of Pamela, Joseph Andrews, were
undoubtedly pioneer works of the utmost significance. Yet they
were, on the other hand, much less representative than Tom Jones ;
and there is a good deal to be said for conceding the honour
unreservedly to Fielding, as he sums himself up in that master
piece. Tom Jones stands to this day the most catholic type of
the multiform literary species that was to be the ruling estate in
English letters for the next two centuries, if not longer. Further
more, in Tom Jones, Fielding, after the manner of innovators,
said a good deal for himself, several of his prologues to the
successive books being in the style of the aesthetic manifestos
of Gautier, Maupassant and Zola. An able critic of other men's
work as well as of his own, and with no false modesty, he was
decidedly on the side of those who regard his fiction, not only
as great in itself, but as epoch-making in the history of literature.
Other authorities, again, would go very far back in our literary
annals, to the germs of various forms of prose fiction in Eliza
bethan times; or farther still, to the earliest examples in the
language, the narratives that were paraphrased or adapted from
the metrical romances of the middle ages.
It simplifies the question to ask, what is meant by the modern
novel. Of course, when we distinguish it from all antecedent
fiction in prose, we are alluding to its predominant characteristic,
Realism, the portraiture of life as it is. This accepted, there
seems good reason for fix:ng the -point of departure at Defoe.
There had been, it is true, a strain of indubitable Realism in
Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress and the Life and Death of Mr.
Badman; but the Bedford revivalist is hardly to be counted
among the novel-writers. Defoe's stories, however, go with
perfect propriety on the same shelf with Wilkie Collins and
Anthony Troll ope, George Eliot and Thomas Hardy; and his
Realism is of that extreme and peculiarly modern kind denominat
ed Naturalism.
It would be tempting to distinguish between Realism and
Naturalism in some such manner as this— Realism is the portrsyal
of real life exactly as it appears; Naturalism implies a special
study of the rorces that react upon huiraa nature and its devel-
VHI INTRODUCTION
opment. This is the task which several of the most eminent
professors of the craft have expressly set themselves— George
Eliot, with her analysis of the influences determining mental and
moral evolution; Zola, with his simplification of life as the
resultant of two calculable forces, heredity and environment;
Thomas Hardy, with his illustrations ot the theory of Necessi
tarianism. But the solution of purely intellectual problems is
scarcely proper work for art. In so far as this reaction of causes
upon the human organism is regarded simply as an interesting
spectacle, there is nothing to be said against it But when it is
boldly treated as a psychological or pathological thesis, or when
deductions are drawn, as was attempted by Zola, from the novel-
writer's demonstrations, then the novel is neither true art nor
science. It aims at an object alien to the one; it is not the
other, because the results of an imaginary process can have no
real validity. The introduction of a non-literary purpose is
bound to lead in the end to the pseudo-scientific fallacies of
experimental fiction, in which the novel masquerades as an
anthropological treatise, pretending to draw logical deductions
from its arbitrary re-arrangement of facts. Art nas no business
with the natural history of the race, even though the novels of
such a man as Defoe might justly be described as, in effect
chapters in our natural history, in that they are so minute and
accurate, and represent an experience so vast, as to furnish
trustworthy statistics for the historian of society.
It would be better, perhaps, to consider Naturalism simply as
more complete and thorough-going Realism. Most of pur
Realists, from Fielding and Richardson to Jane Austen and
Thackeray, were never content simply to mirror life; they gave
us their own reading of it. Their novels are not a mere tran
scription of what they observed, but an interpretation, humorous
or sentimental, ethical or philosophical. In a tale of Guy de
Maupassant's one seems to be looking at life itself; in Vanity
fair or Pride and Prejudice, Tom Jones or Clarissa, we see it
through a medium interposed by the mind and temperament of
the writer. This distinction, of course, is not an aosolute one.
Neither Maupassant, nor any other man, was able to eliminate
himself entirely from his delineation of the world. But he was
constantly straining to do so ; he never betrayed himself intention
ally; and he succeeded perhaps as far as a mortal can. In Le
Mouvement litUraire contemporain, M. Pellissier describes his
method, the typical method of Naturalism, as follows : —
'In Guy de Maupassant there is no trace of romanticism.
Naturalist and nothing more, he has, so to speak, done nothing
but reflect nature. He paints himself under the name of one of
his characters, the novelist Lamarthe, "armed with an eye that
gathers in images, attitudes, and gestures with the precision of a
photographic apparatus".' And again, 'What distinguishes him,
particularly from Zola, is that his observation is free. He has,
INTRODUCTION DC
while he observes, no definite object before him. He does not
wish to fill in a framework prepared in advance, verify by means
of documents a theory already conceived. He lets his senses
"gather in" the appearances of life; and in his writing, he will
render it, in the true sense of the word, without the slightest
alteration. Others have seen what they depict. But their vision
has been that of professional observers, who are on the watch,
who have their "idea" beforehand, if not their plan, and who,
by that very circumstance, work more or less upon reality, instead
of receiving its impression. Passive and neutral, Guy de
Maupassant represents with perfect exactness the things he sees.' *
Naturalism, in this view, is Realism carried to the farthest
exfreWeT* everything that might interfere with the accuracy of
perception and translation being stringently excluded. It is
representation, pure and simple, not interpretation. On either^
theory, Defoe stands out definitely and distinctly as a Naturalist. \
It is a function of science to subserve the purposes of art, and'"
there is no ground to suppose that Defoe thought of reversing
the relation, and making art subservient to science. It is true, \
nevertheless, that Moll Flanders and Roxana do exhibit in a most \
luminous way the trains of causes and effects by which character^^
is moulded and transformed. The influences of material envi^-r.? *"
ment have never been exposed with acuter insight; nor has therl
been a more intelligent diagnosis of existing social conditions,
But there is no reason to think that he arranged his materials
to support any theory. His aim was identical with that of Mau
passant, Jxj ir>;n-or life.. It does not affect this conclusion to
admit that Defoe is otten a critic of life, that he moralises often,
and not seldom appears in the guise of a sociologist pointing
out the defects of penal laws, indicting our treatment of the poor
and the criminal classes, and exposing the manifold shortcomings
of the social system in general. When a man of sixty, who has
been engaged for a quarter of a century in journalism and pam-
* ' Chez Guy de Maupassant, nulle trace de romantisme. Entierement
naturaliste, il n'a fait pour ainsi dire que mirer la nature. Lui-meme se
peint sous le nom d'un de ses personnages, le romancier Lamarthe, " arme
d'un ceil qui cueillait les images, les attitudes et les gestes avec la pre
cision d'un appareil photographique ":'
•Mais ce qui Pen distingue, et de M. Zola particulierement, c'est que
son observation est libre. II n'a, en observant, aucun propos defini. II
ne veut pas remplir tels cadres fixe"s d'avance, confirmer par des docu
ments une the"orie prdcongue. II laisse les sens "cueillir" les images de
la vie; et, en e"crivant, il la rendra, dans le sens propre du mot, sans la
moindre alteration. D'autres ont vu ce qu'ils peignent. Seulement leur
vision est celle d'observateurs professionnels, qui sont a 1'affut, qui ont
deja leur "idee", peutetre leur plan, et qui, par cela meme, agissent plus
ou moins sur la realite au lieu d'en subir 1'impression. Passif et neutre,
Guy de Maupassant represents les choses vues avec une parfaite exactitude*'
INTRODUCTION
phleteering, eulogizing or abusing the views of different parties
on political, religious and social questions, takes to writing novels
he is not likely to keep those questions out of his books; in fact,
he could not if he would. But it would be a very superficial
view to regard Defoe's stories as in any sense novels of purpose.
As to the moralizations, they are as a rule, except in Robinson
Crusoe, something foreign and extraneous; we must blame the
contemporary prejudice against any kind of literature that did
not minister to moral improvement. They are, virtually, his
apology for writing novels, and the excuse— often, perhaps, not
entirely sincere — for the risky nature of his themes. To our
eyes, they appear in their proper light as so entirely gratuitous,
that the stories would be infinitely better without them. Defoe,
in short, is the first Naturalist in modern fiction, and it is only
by virtue of the general advance in craftsmenship, and the more
precise knowledge and subtler insight placed in the hands of the
student of life by modern science, that the Naturalists of recent
days are his superiors. By right of his personal achievement,
Defoe ranks among the greatest.
It is hardly possible to attach too much importance to the
revolution he carried out in English fiction. By the coming of
Defoe, the novel, which had hitherto been a hybrid and non
descript thing, a kind of by-product of poetry, was at last dif
ferentiated as an independent art-form. Our first prose tales were
derived from the metrical romances, and were scarcely less
poetical in matter, form and spirit than their originals. Even
when writers forsook the traditional material, and began to
invent, the novel did not succeed altogether in taking a separate
place in the literary hierarchy; for a long time to come, its
authors were unable to make up their minds as to whether they
were writing poetry or prose, or rather, they conceived them
selves to be poets working in a looser and more popular medium.
Euphuism, which, as recent investigators have established, was a
force in literature before Lyly wrote, and even before the writings
of Guevara were read in this country, was a symptom of this
hesitation. It represents an effort to retain in artistic prose some
of the charms for ear and mind evoked by metrical diction. In
its most elaborate form, imagery, assonance and alliteration, regulat
ed by artificial laws of antithesis and recurrence, supplied an
equivalent for the effects of verse. Sidney's Arcadia (included
in this series, with an introduction in which this question is
worked out further) was richer in imagery and more lanciful in
style than the most flowery compositions of the medieval versi
fiers. But it is not merely a question of style. The world
portrayed is hardly more a reflection of the real world than is
the Faery Land of Spenser; the shepherd poets and pastoral
princesses are not characters drawn from life, but facets of their
creator's high and chivalrous personality. The sentimental idylls
ot Lodge and Greene come a step or two, but no more, nearer
INTRODUCTION XI
reality: but even in the most realistic Elizabethan novel, Richard
Nash's Jack Wilton, a book that is sometimes described as an
anticipation of Defoe, in spite of the genuine reminiscences that
are no doubt embodied in it, there is a curious atmosphere of
'once upon a time', a curious lack of sharp definition, that
illustrates how hard these early novelists found it to descend from
the region of ideality, the world of poetry, into the proper sphere
of the novel.
A century before there was as yet no prose competent to deal
with such a theme. Prose was still an amphibious dialect, quite
unfit for the service of criticism, science and history, and there
fore of such fiction as dealt like these with actuality. The only
prose known was that which Dryden had in mind when he said
that blank verse is, * properly, measured prose'. Only when prose
had become thoroughly differentiated as the natural mode of
expressing calm, dispassionate thought, and the truths of science,
was it possible lor prose fiction to be thoroughly differentiated
from poetry. The long-winded heroical romances of Restoration
days were of the same amphibious strain as the Arcadia, and
equally divorced from reality. Mrs. Behn's novels, especially
Oronooko, which is hardly a novel at all, show an approximation
to the standards of real life. But her other stories contain nothing
of the substance of life, do not attempt to portray their world
in detail, or to realise the characters ; all this has to be taken on
trust, and the general impression they leave is that of a bald
skeleton, the mere framework of a story.
The word Realism is used commonly in two meanings. It is
often applied loosely to any treatment of real life, as opposed
to fantasy and romance, the subject alone being taken into ac
count in this sense. But in a stricter sense, Realism is a technical
term, and denotes a certain method of attaining imaginative
actuality for the creations of fiction. The personages and the
incidents of both poet and realist are alike imaginary ; both have
to exert themselves in some way to make their inventions seem
real. There are two totally different ways of attaining this end.
While the poet, using symbols burning with emotion, strikes
directly upon the imagination of his reader, compelling what
Coleridge describes as 'that willing suspension of disbelief for
the moment which constitutes poetic faith'; the proseman, con
fining himself to cold, intellectual terms, has to proceed by a
more circuitous path. He makes his fictions real to the mind
by assimilating them to the things, and to the order of events,
withf which we are familiar. To adopt the slang of the newspaper
critic, he has to be 'convincing'. Prose is the language of the
understanding; and prose fiction must restrict itself to the proper
sphere of the understanding, the world of reality. No matter
how vast the abstract significance of its creations, they must be
reduced to the scale of the actual and the particular; personal
peculiarities must be stamped on them ; and they must be attached
XII INTRODUCTION
to the world we live in by specific dates, actual places, and the
thousand links of circumstance. This implies, of course, that the
writer of strict prose, such, for instance, as the unimaginative
prose of the eighteenth century, has ^no| option but to be a
realist; he is left with no alternative' to this use of verisimilitude ;
and, as a consequence, heis_strictly circumscribed as to his choice
of subject, which must*E>e a phase of reality. Should he attempt
fantastic themes, he has to pretend that they are real; and this
is what the composers of prose fantasies have done, from Swift
to Poe, unless they have abandoned the stricter prose canons,
and like Jean Paul Richter,' De Quincey, and their congeners,
laid lawless hands on the arts of diction usually monopolized by
t]je poets.
Defoe's work in the reconstruction of prose fiction was to brina;
the novel down at once from the region where the plastic imagi
nation roams at large, and fix it firmly on the solid earth. He
showed, more forcibly than any novelist before or since, the
irresistible cogency of the circumstantial method. In fact, he
overdid the thing, and took upon him to hoodwink his readers.
Not content with poetic faith, he deluded them with the pretence
that he was relating actual occurrences; and so, to this day, it is
not quite settled whether certain stories are fictions by Defoe or
records of authentic experiences by the supposed narrators.
Some of his more elaborate frauds certainly go beyond all bounds
of literary artifice. In order to pass off his account of the career
of Jack Sheppard as an actual dying confession, he got the con
demned man, as he stood on the scaffold, to hand a document,
purporting to be the manuscript of the book, to a messenger
who brought it to Defoe. There are instances of this kind of
deception in both Moll Jlanders and Roxana, which are brought
into line with those memoirs of illustrious malefactors for which
the general reader of the time showed such avidity. Here is
the beginning of Moll T landers:—
' My true name is so well known in the records or registers at
Newgate, and in the Old Bailey, and there are some things of
Mich consequence still depending there, relating to my particular
conduct, that it is not to be expected I should set my name or
the account of my family to this work ; perhaps after my death
it may be better known; at present it would not be proper, no,
not though a general pardon should be issued, even without
exceptions of persons or crimes.
* It is enough to tell you, that as some of my worst comrades,
who are out of the way of doing me harm (having gone out of
che world by the steps and the string, as I often expected to go),
knew me by the name of Moll Flanders, so you may give me
leave to go under that name till I dare own who I have been,
as well as who I am.'
No evidence has yet been adduced by the efforts of many
editors that these two works are not mainly fiction, though, of
INTRODUCTION Xlil
course, it is quite probable that they were suggested to Defoe
by the careers of certain people who cannot now be identified.
It may be said in extenuation of these offences against literary
ethics, that they were transgressions of laws not yet codified, and
indeed not properly understood. With but a few exceptions, the
Realism of these two books was of a thoroughly legitimate kind,
and they are almost perfect examples of Defoe's use of detail
as the most effective .mstruinent of verisimilitude. ^ He taught
"once for all that the novel has its own method of imaginative
jsciuality, and so laid the foundations of modern Realism deep
:cure. He carried out the most decisive revolution in the'
history of prose fiction, and for that reason alone deserves to be
counted as the first modern novelist. That it is no mere advance
in skill and invention, but a fundamental change of principle,
that we are witnessing, is forcibly realised if we compare the
opening of the Arcaaia with that of Robinson Crusoe, the type
of the old poetical fiction with the type of the new prose novel.
This is how Sidney begins: —
'It was in the time when the earth begins to put on her new
apparel against the approach of her lover, and that the sun
running a most even course becomes an indifferent arbiter
between the night and the day, when the hopeless shepherd
Strephon was come to the sands which lie against the island
of Cithera, where, viewing the place with a heavy kind of delight,
and sometimes casting his eyes to the isleward, he called his
friendly rival Claius unto him; and setting first down in his
darkened countenance a doleful copy of what he would speak,
"O my Claius", said he, "hither we are now come to pay the
rent for which we are so called unto by pverbusy remembrance;
remembrance, restless remembrance, which claims not only this
duty of us, but for it will have us forget ourselves".'
Sidney makes his appeal frankly to the imagination; Defoe as
frankly addresses himself to our sense af -he ac.ual: —
'I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good
family, tho' not of that country, my father being a foreigner of
Bremen, who settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by
merchandise, and leaving off his trade, lived afterward at York,
from whence he had married my mother, whose relations were
named Robinson, a very good family in that country, and after
whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the usual
corruption of words in England, we are now called, nay we
call ourselves, and write our name Crusoe, and so my compa
nions always called me.
1 1 had two elder brothers, one of which was lieutenant colonel
to an English regiment of foot in Flanders, formerly commanded
by the famous Col. Lockhart, and was killed at the battle near
Dunkirk against the Spaniards: what became of my second
brother I never knew, any more than my father and mother did
knosv what was become of me.'
II
XIV INTRODUCTION
If we seek in the preceding age for a native production corre
sponding in any way to the realistic novel, we shall find it only
in works that do not belong to literature, in the popular fictions,
glorifying heroes of the soil, and derived in many cases from
the old ballads, as romances of a higher order had been derived
from the medieval epic. The best read novels before Defoe were
the stories of George a Green and of Thomas of Reading, of
Robin Hood and of Friar Bacon. These rude chap-books, manu
factured for a lower audience than those who revelled in the
romance, were the work of mere journeymen of letters, who had
no direct influence on the development of fiction, although they
doubtless had an indirect one, in maintaining and stimulating the
taste for sensational stories, and the practice of making novels
out of the gestes of popular heroes and eminent criminals.
Thomas Deloney, ballad writer and author of Thomas of Reading,
the 'Learned Antiquary' who turned into prose the gist of
several well-known ballads of Robin Hood, and Richard Johnson,
author or compiler of Tom a Lincoln, with many anonymous
retailers of cherished legends, were Defoe's immediate forerunners
in a way that Lodge, Green and Nash, or even Mrs. Behn, could
not claim to be.
Yet there is no Realism in these rough-and-ready effusions;
the figures of Robin Hood, Little John, and their fellows are
simply marionettes ; for any effect of life they are to have, the
writers trust to the familiarity of their readers with the figures of
tradition. With this object, paying no heed to chronology, they
associate their heroes indiscriminately with any historical names
that cling to the popular memory. Robin Hood is boldly stated
to have been outlawed by Henry VIII, and to have won the
favour of Queen Katherine by his archery, the names of a king
and queen so familiar to an Elizabethan audience being obvi
ously adopted by the ' Learned Antiquary ' for catchpenny reasons.
Of portraiture, of either character or manners, there is hardly a
trace. And it is strange how the old ballad spirit has entirely
evaporated in its degenerate offspring, giving way to something
closely akin to the appetite for crude sensation, to that indiffer
ence to true heroism, that worship of brute force and successful
trickery, which distinguish the productions of our modern press
of the baser sort. Robin Hood ceases even to be a sportsman,
and the taste, (or the lack of it) shown by the author of Tom a
Lincoln would disgust any decent-minded reader. This steady
degradation of sentiment renders it only too certain that a large
proportion of Defoe's readers were captivated rather by the
accounts of Roxana's brilliant career in the world of gallantry,
Colonel Tack's successes as a thief about town, and Captain
Singletons piratical enterprises, than by the history of their
pangs of contrition, especially as Defoe's \< -n interest in the
monetary affairs of his characters laid spec al stress on the
profits to be gained in these Unes of business.
INTRODUCTION XV
In all the different kinds of fiction that had come and gone,
in the romances and idylls, in the adaptations of Spanish picaresque
novels, and above all in the tales from Boccaccio, Bandello, and
other Italian noveltieri, the story as a series of dramatic incidents,
more or less pointedly arranged, was the principal matter. Take
away the story, and there is nothing left. With Defoe the story
is of no importance. Plots he has none. His men and women
are carefully limned ; the tale.* takes ca.re of itself. Though he
is one of the finest masters otjjX3{&ic narration in the language,
his stories show hardly a trace of constructive art; in truth,
ihat was. a thing they did not require.
How did a man like Defoe come to invent something so
momentous as the Naturalistic novel? That question has already
been partially answered. The old, semi-poetic types of fiction
were played out— there was no possibly future for anything of
that sort. Their lifeless survival, the heroical romance, with its
unrealities and affectations, was so antipathetic to the dawning
spirit of the eighteenth century that the mild satire of Mrs.
Lennox's Female Quixote sufficed to snuff it out of existence.
If any more fiction was to be written, it was bound to take a
new turn, and the deep interest of the age in actuality would
direct that turn towards Realism. Even in such a thing as
religious allegory, as already observed, Bunyan had pointed out
the new route. Defoe, we may be sure, did not think out a new
theory of the novel. Take a man of his peculiar mental con
stitution, and set him writing novels, (the last thing, perhaps,
that would have been predicted of him), and the result will be
something of the nature of pseudo-biography, pseudo-history, or
fictitious narratives of travel. Let him display certain intuitions
of the born artist, and the result will be Naturalism. Not that
Defoe cared a pin for art. In the case of such a man as he,
always ready to turn his hand to any lucrative employment,
business considerations, of course, came foremost. Having,
whether by design or accident, struck out a profitable line, he
was sure to follow it up with indefatigable perseverance, without
being swayed very much by literary motives. Now Defoe was
an extraordinary collector of facts. As an observer, not even
Zola, with his arsenal of note-books, surpassed the unwearied,
the insatiable curiosity of Daniel Defoe, And for a romance
writer, he was strangely lacking in invention. He found, the
moment he began to produce fiction, or rather he had found
already in his accounts of illustrious criminals, that he had hit
a huge section of the public who wanted facts, wanted to be
told all about the world they lived in, especially about those
phases of which they knew least. Having, it the course of an
extremely versatile career, amassed an enormous store of this
commodity, as soon as he found there was money in it, he began
to pour out his facts in the copious stream of his novels.
Here was his special endowment, a mastery of fact. As a man
XVI INTRODUCTION
with a marketable store of merchandise, he gave his public
interesting portraits of existing types, and descriptions of things
been ; as a born artist, he traced the inner meaning of the picture.
His novels are, in effect if not in intention, chapters in the
natural history of his kind. Caring nothing for romantic or comic,
dramatic or melodramatic effects, he chose the simplest possible -
mode of telling his story. He took a perfectly ordinary and
representative character, a Moll Flanders, a Roxana, a Colonel
Jack— people who had no charms of personality— and related
their adventures with Jhe jutmost directness, in the natural form
»f biography. There was a resemblance here to the picaresque
novel, inasmuch as events there too followed each other with
e fortuitous consecutiveness of life. But there the incidents
were carefully selected, in Defoe we get the typical life of a
typical person. That is all the difference. His affinity to the
old romancers of roguery was, indeed, rather an accidental than
a genealogical one: in spirit he is quite unlike them. The
comedy of life was not an idea with the remotest attraction for
Defoe. He is not a satirist; nor is h-j at Lot;om a moral philo-
soper, like the author of Guzman cTAlfaraehe, for instance. His
object in writing novels was to interest and entertain his readers
by reconstructing the world of his experience in the simplest
and most direct manner he could.
Defoe has no style. There is here no more searching after
effect, or trying to impress himself upon his work, than in the
tenor of the narrative. Prose had at length come down to earth.
Literary diction had at last been assimilated to the common
\ m.guage of life; and Defoe's was the commonest and plainest
that had yet appeared in books. His single aim is to t^ll his
story clearly; and with that aim he seeks -race nor
polish, disdains grammar, strives for nothing but to v^ible.
Solecisms and common colloquial errors are in every sentence —
the page bristles with them. And, strange though it seem to
connect him in these characteristics with an accomplished writer
like Maupassant, this rough homespun of his testifies to the same
single-minded endeavour to render life as he saw it, neither to
heighten nor adorn ; to state his facts clearly, and let the manner of
the statement go. Maupassant wrote \vell unconsciously ; Defoe wrote
badly unconsciously. Neither aimed at literary effect; both attained
i.i. their several ways the effect of supreme simplicity and truth.
A parallel might be drawn between the two even as to their
character-drawing. I spoke of Defoe as a careful limner of
character; but it must be borne in mind that the psychology of
tie Naturalist is of a restricted kind. .The interest of his pseudo-
biography is not in the idiosyncrasies of personality, but in the
traits common to all men. Moll Flanders, Roxana, Colonel Jack,
are t individuals; but their delineators object was to depict, not
an interesting character, but the typ'cal individual, 1^? r?pr<
alive of a whole clas&V Our sen*-,; ui i/wL'soatuiiy iius
INTRODUCTION XVH
enormously since Defoe. The inexhaustible interest and variety
of human character has become the finest theme of fiction. Yet
the naturalists, as a class, still cleave to the principle observed
by Defoe. In Maupassant, Zola, Hardy, there are few figures
that stand out as strongly marked individuals, independently of
the drama in which they are involved ; the workings of individual
minds are exposed, but not the points in which minds differ one
from the other. The interes* is still, not ;n peculiar traits, but
in what the persons of the story undergo, and in what they
become as ordinary men and woirc-n. One thing, however, the
modern naturalist 'knows that was a sealed book to Defoe — the
phenomena of temperament, the shades and differences of which
play such a dominating part on the psychological stage of all
modern novelists. The absence of any sense of the meaning of
temperament accounts for the peculiar impression which the
modern reader gets on first opening Defoe.
This characteristic deficiency comes out prominently if we *
compare a book like Moll Flanders with the character-drawing
of modern naturalists. Take for example one of the most recent,
the Journal d'une femme de chambre by Octave Mirbeau, a book
that has many points of similarity with both the novels included
in this volume. Mirbeau is one of the novelists who have
abandoned the fallacies of experimental fiction; but whose
Realism, in its minuteness, closeness to actual life, and the
repudiation of any scruples interfering with absolute truth, shows
the effect of several decades of Naturalism. The purpose of
the Journal is to satirise the present corruption of society in
France, but the satire is dissembled under the form of a natural
istic account of the life it holds up to execration. The style is
not comic, nor ironical, nor denunciatory; the book purports
to be, under the form of a novel, an exact statement and diag
nosis of terrible truths. The satirical intention may be left, for
the time being, out of sight; and what remains, the autobio
graphical record of a woman's life, one of those women who
are born in sin, flung helpless to the cruel mercies of the world,
and driven eventually by sheer force of circumstances into the
ranks of the criminal classes, is material enough for our com
parison. Lc Journal d'une femme de chambre is, in fact, the
latest of a long family that are derived from one ancestress,
Moll Flanders. Mirbeau's Celestine is a French Moll Flanders,
and a Moll Flanders modernized. The object of both men was
to paint a natural woman, a woman having no true place in
society, and therefore at war with the world tor her own exist
ence. Neither Celestine nor Defoe's heroine is bad by nature:
their moral downfall is the work of those who should have beer,
their proto::fors They become sinners through being sinned
against; and the immediate result is, not that they are transformed
into abandoned creatures and enemies to their kind, they simply
become non-moral; the question of right and wrong has no longer
XVIII INTRODUCTION
any appreciable effect upon conduct. Be it objected that "Moll
Flanders never loses her moral sense, but is continually a prey
to pangs of remorse; the answer is, that her moralizations are
not really a part of her character. Her mind is engrossed by
other interests altogether; in her acutest throes of conscience,
her eye is always on the main chance. Both women cease at
an early stage of their careers to pay more than a formal obeiss-
ance to the name of feminine virtue. Few compunctions abou t
her missing husbands trouble Moll Flanders, when an opportunity
presents itself of getting a new one. Celestine takes the woria
as she finds it, surrendering herself to any lover who will savr
her from the one thing she loathes and shrinks from with .
horrible dread-destitution. 'Apres tout, je n'avais pas de choix;
[ et cela vaut mieux que rien.' This is the regular method of the
I Naturalists, to reduce life to its elements, to present mankind
freed from the fetters ot law and the trappings of conventionality.
- Of course, characters like Celestine and Moll Flanders must
he carefully distinguished from such characters as Fielding's
Jonathan Wild and Thackeray's Barry Lyndon, in whom con
science is represented as absolutely dead. In Defoe's heroine
and Mirbeau's, the moral nature is paralysed into inactivity by the
pressure of things outside; at the back of their minds there is
still a semi-conscious perception of right and wrong, which
throws the incidents recorded in their autobiography into moral
relief, and makes us feel that they are human creatures. The
moral sentiment must have a place in the book, or such narratives
of ill-doing would be unreadable. In Fielding and Thackeray it
is supplied by the continuous irony of the novelist : but their
two masterpieces of iniquity being devoid of it cease to be human,
and are little else than idealisations of vice. Neither Moll Flanders
nor Celestine ever lose their hold on our sympathies entirely,
although Roxana, who has none of their good nature and never
shows a trace of real affection or passion, has but a feeble
claim even on our pity.
The ups and downs of Celestine have many resemblances to
the two stories included here. In their candour and honesty,
the two authors are alike, save, perhaps, that the French novelist
has bitten in his lines with a sharper acid. But Defoe's patient
transcription of the smallest essential detail; his resolute adherence
to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; and his
contempt for every romantic or sentimental motive that would
glqze over real causes, and represent the conduct of human
beings rather as we would have it to be than as it is,— these
characteristics reproduce themselves in the author of the Journal,
and prove him the lineal successor of Defoe. It is to some
extent a confirmation of this view, that one of the most successful
books in France at the time when interest in the works of the
Naturalist school was particularly absorbing, should be Marcel
Schwob's translation of Moll Flanders,
INTRODUCTION XIX
The points of inferiority in Defoe's novel compared with such
a book as the Journal, are due in part to the limitations of his
genius, but more perhaps to the time when he wrote. One would
not look in Moll Flanders for the constructive art, or the subtly
calculated use of suggestion, displayed by a French realist in the
last year of the nineteenth century. Even in criticising the
narrowness of Defoe's outlook, and the shallowness of his psych-%
ology, we must make due allowance for the circumstance that\
the novel was in his day in a very rude and experimental stage \
of development. Whilst keeping our attention enchained by the
sensations and mental states of Celestine, Mirbeau contrives, not
only to convey the atmosphere of crowded life, but to give his
reader through her eyes a clear and vivid insight into the actual
life of the main classes of French society. Moll Flanders and
Roxana themselves monopolize attention ; the reader gets glimpses
of the world about them ; but these are but the accidental features
of their story. No doubt, these two novels owe much of their strength
to this simplicity and concentration; but, at the same time, it is :
obvious that Defoe's imagination was limited. He had no special t
intuition into feminine character, any more than any feeling
for the more elusive factors of temperament. Very rarely indeed,
in any of his stories, does one come across anything so profoundly
true to human nature as the scene where Roxana persuades her
maid Amy to be ruined, from an instinctive desire to drag her f
down to her own level. Defoe's are very simple types of char- \
acter; Celestine is a complex product of our civilization; and ^
what enthralls one most is the revelation of the workings of her
mind, the close analysis of her own sensations and impulses by
a keenly self-conscious autobiographer. Compared with this,
Defoe has no psychology. The coldness and impassibility of his
disposition are genuine, not the effect of an artistic attitude of
detachment. These traits are patent to every one in Robinson
Crusoe, where he never dwells on the imaginative significance of
the situation, but sets down moving incident and meaningless
detail with the same cold precision. So too in Colonel Jack,
Captain Singleton, and the present pair of stories, — the group
that represent him best in the light of Naturalist,— instances
abound of this curious lack of sensibility. Take but one example,
the episode of the heroine i, di^co very 'that she is married to her
own brother. Here is material for tragedy, if you like ; but the I
full meaning and realisation of the episode is left entirely to the |
reader's imagination. Defoe simply tells us that his heroine was
horror-stricken, the husband fainted, and the mother was shocked;
but all this is related with the same absence of emotion, or of
any sense of its dreadful significance, as if it were but another
of the monetary misfortunes that at last brought Moll Flanders
to the dogs. The autobiographic form of these novels lent itself
peculiarly well to the free expression of feeling ; and the absence
of it strikes one as an unnatural thing. And vet, when the reader
XX INTRODUCTION
has come to appreciate Defoe's stark, passionless realism, he will,
if he have any imagination, discern a strength and grim impres-
siveness in this simplicity, which is lacking in the conscious art
of other story-tellers. In such a, narrative as Defoe's Htsiory of
the Plague, where the tremendous facts speak for themselves
without any need for emphasis, this style is seen at its best.
Mirbeau s Celestine, alter many changes of masters and mis
tresses, few of whom are credited with any estimable traits,
comes at last into the service of a miserly woman and a hen
pecked husband, where her life soon becomes a torment. In
this curious household, she is fascinated against her will by a
rugged and uncouth coachman, whom she suspects to be guilty
of a peculiarly revolting murder. Just as Defoe, in his own
version of Roxana, (which appears to have been continued by
some inferior hand) leaves her, on the last page, uncertain whether
the too-faithful Amy had carried out her threat of putting her trouble
some daughter out of the way, so the author of the Journal
never tells us whether Joseph was actually the murderer of little
Claire. The mystery that hangs about the man is far more
dreadful than certainty of his guilt would be. To Celestine the
doubt, while it repels for a moment, comes gradually to cast a
horrible spell over her mind. The strength and invincible cunning
of the man seem to dominate her utterly, until, when she feels
at length convinced that he is the criminal, yet cannot force him
to confess, she is mastered altogether, and throws herself into
his arms. ' Chez moi ', she says, tout crime, le meurtre princip-
alement, a des correspondences secretes avec 1'amour Eh
bien, oui, lal un beau crime m'empoigne comme un beau male.'
Joseph plans and carries out with consummate address, a robbery
of the Rabour mansion, which enables him and Celestine to set
up as well-to-do tradespeople at Cherbourg, and is felt to be
but the right measure of poetic justice on their detestable
employers.
This is by no means the only episode in which crime is the
theme of Mirbeau's story. The fact is, the naturalist almost
'inevitably deals with the subject of crime. Defoe's characters
re made criminals by circumstances ; all four of those treated
oTtft the group of pseudo-biographies under discussion were the
victims of social injustice. Singleton was stolen as a child, and
sold to the Gypsies; his foster-mother was hanged, and he was
thrown helpless on the world. He goes to sea, becomes in the
natural course of events a thief, and being mixed up, through
no fault of his, in a mutiny, turns pirate. "Colonel" Jack is a
London waif, without father or mother, or even a surname. He
runs wild about the City, herds with thieves, and is an expert
thief himself before he learns that stealing is not an honest
irade. In the struggle for existence, these characters simply
follow the path of least resistance. The picture of submerged
London in the e days, and the further account of the criminal
INTRODUCTION XXI
4fM
classes in Moll Flanders, make even our modern tales of mean
streets sound almost Arcadian. Moll Flanders is the child of a
woman who has been sent to the plantations for felony. Her
downfall is the work of her master's son. But she is not cast
at once upon the tender mercies of the world. For the present
she is saved from poverty and its concomitant, crime, by a
comfortable, though loveless, marriage. Widowed a year or two
later, she marries a second husband, who fails in business and
leaves her in the lurch. Want stares her in the face, and frightens
her into her first act of dishonesty— she makes off with goods
that were legally the property of her husband's creditors, and
takes refuge m the Mint, where she loses no time before seeking
an opportunity to commit bigamy. In the sequel, she becomes
a regular thief, and narrowly excapes the fate of her mother.
Roxana's history is likewise a history of wrong-doing. She
was born in comfortable circumstances, and came to grief tnrough
the folly of an extravagant husband, who was, in the eye of the
law, absolute master of her fortune. He absconds, leaving her
penniless, with five children, whom she gets provided for by a
stratagem that, in the circumstances, may be winked at Not
so her ensuing conduct. Inexorable circumstance may be held
responsible for her initial lapse from virtue, but it was her
insatiable covetousness and a vicious twist in her nature that
made her fall such a ready prey to the general corruption of
morals. In her case, Defoe does not think it necessary to provide
an escape from the consequences of her guilty life, and a
comfortable opportunity for repentance. At the same time, in
Roxana the other side of the picture is more fully delineated;
while the autobiographic form is maintained, we get a much
better idea of the external conditions that reacted upon the
central character. There are one or two excellent portraits, such
as Roxana's aider and abettor, Amy, and the Quaker landlady,
who is a very taking creature. Then there is more than a glimpse
of Restoration society, with its brilliance and dissipation; and a
study of the loose morals and reckless extravagance that brought
young men of good station to take to the highway. Often, in
the analysis of coarse vices, we are reminded of Mirbeau's
Celestine and her exclamation, 'Et dire qu'il existe une socie'te'
pour la protection des animaux!' 'Ahl.. oui! leshommes!..
Qu'ils soient cochers, valets de chambre, gommeux, cure's ou
poetes, ils sont tous les memes . . Des crapules 1 . . '
The naturalists have always shown a special proneness to this
class of subject. Balzac's Splendeurs et Mislres des Courtisanes,
Hugo's most realistic novel, Les Mistrables, Bourget's Disciple,
Zola's Rougon-Macquart series, and many others equally typical,
might be instanced as dealing largely in the study of crime ana
criminals. The motive is not, as is so often objected, a fond
ness for the base and obscene. It is a desire to get at the natural
man ; to pierce through the artificialities and affectations of social
XXH INTRODUCTION
5 life. Only in low life can the primitive man De run to earth,
- he who is the special quarry of the naturalist, who is less interested
in social man, or man as thinker, lover, idealist. If the naturalist
represents him in society, it is usually in a state of war with
society; the primordial man and his struggle for existence are
still tne subject. So the naturalist descends inevitably to the
criminal classes, because the man whose nature has not been
refashioned by the influence of society and thought, is there seen
unrestrained, except by external forces, from taking the most
direct means to win himself subsistence, pleasure, predominance.
He follows the elemental instincts, because he remains in the
primitive stage.
Defoe's history of Roxana probably ended with her marriage
to , the merchant who buys her the title of countess, and takes
her to Holland. There, says Roxana, 'after some few years of
flourishing and outwardly happy circumstances, I fell into a
dreadful course of calamities.' The continuation supplied by
an edition in 1745, twenty-one years after the first edition, and
fourteen after the death of Defoe — one of several continuations
by various hands— is reprinted here. Divers inconsistencies indicate
that it is spurious. The dark hints of the original story as to
the fate of the daughter Susanna, who, we are led to believe, was
made away in some mysterious manner by the faithful Amy, are
forgotten, and Susanna is brought on the scene again. And, as
Mr. Aitken points out, the austere husband who leaves Roxana
to want is not the easy-going man to whom she was married
by Defoe. The statement that she died at Amsterdam in 1742,
in her sixty-fifth year is at variance with Defoe, who makes her
ten years old in 1683, and therefore sixty-nine in 1742 (not
fifty-nine, Mr. Aitken). But. of course, his own dates are obviously
wrong, since Charles IL, to whom she is said to have given an
entertainment, died in 1685, when she was only twelve years old,
according to Defoe (not two, as Mr. Aitken puts it). On the
other hand it cannot be denied that Defoe himself was singularly
careless in chronological and other details. When Roxana's
first husband decamps, she states distinctly:—
' It must be a little surprising to the reader to tell him at once,
that after this I never saw my husband more; but, to go farther,
I not only never saw him more, but I never heard from him,
or of him, neither of any or either of his two servants, or of the
horses, either what became of them, where or which way they
went, or what they did or intended to do, no more than if the
ground had opened and swallowed them all up, and nobody had
known it, except as hereafter.'
But the following passage, a few years later, is a direct con
tradiction to this: —
'After we had seen the king, who did not stay long in the
gardens, we walked up the broad terrace, and crossing the hall
towards the great staircase, I had a sight which confounded me
INTRODUCTION XXIU
at once, as I doubt not it would have done to any woman in
the world. The horse guards, or what they call there the gens
darmes, had, upon some occasion, been either upon duty or been
reviewed, or something (I did not understand that part) was the
matter that occasioned their being there, I know not what;
but, walking in the guard-chamber, and with his jack-boots on,
and the whole habit of the troop, as it is worn when our horse
guards are upon duty, as they call it, at St James's Park; I say,
tnere, to my inexpressible confusion, I saw Mr—, my first husband,
the brewer.
'I could not be deceived; I passed so near him that I almost
brushed him with my clothes, and looked him full in the face,
but having my fan before my face, so that he could not know
me. However, I knew him perfectly well, and I heard him
speak, which was a second way of knowing him.'
However certain we may feel as to the truth of any theory
about Defoe's authorship of books like the Journal of a Cavalier
and the Memoirs of Captain Carleton, or parts of books like that
under discussion now, we are always met by these difficulties in
proving them.
E. A. B.
1906.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
HTHE world is so taken up of late with novels and romances, that it
•*• will be hard for a private history to be taken for genuine, where the
name and other circumstances of the person are concealed ; and on this
account we must be content to leave the reader to pass his own opinion
upon the ensuing sheets, and take it just as he pleases.
The author is here supposed to be writing her own history, and in the very
beginning of her account she gives the reasons why she thinks fit to conceal
her true name, after which there is no occasion to say any more about that.
It is true that the original of this story is put into new words, and the
style of the famous lady we here speak of is a little altered; particularly
she is made to tell her own tale in modester words than she told it at
first, the copy which came first to hand having been written in language
more like one still in Newgate than one grown penitent and humble, as
she afterwards pretends to be.
The pen employed in finishing her story, and making it what you no\r
see it to be, has had no little difficulty to put it into a dress fit to be
seen, and to make it speak language fit to be read. When a woman de
bauched from her youth, nay, even being the offspring of debauchery and
vice, comes to give an account of all her vicious practices, and even to
descend to the particular occasions and circumstances by which she first
became wicked, and of all the progressions of crime which she ran through
in threescore years, an author must be hard put to it to wrap it up so
clean as not to give room, especially for vicious readers, to turn it to his
disadvantage.
All possible care, however, has been taken to give no lewd ideas, no
Jmmodest turns in the new dressing-up this story; no, not to the worst
Eart of her expressions. To this purpose some of the vicious part of her
,fe, which could not be modestly told, is quite left out, and several other
parts are rery much shortened. What is left, 'tis hoped, will not offend
the chastest reader or the modestest hearer; and as the best use is to be
made even of the worst story, the-naocaj, 'ti^, hoped, will keep the reader'
^seriouSi even where- the story jnighj: incline him to be otherwise. To give \
?Ee history of a wicked life repented of necessarily requires that the wick
ed part should be made as wicked as the real history of it will bear, to
illustrate and give a beauty to the penitent part, which is certainly the I
best and brightest, if related with equal spirit and life.
It is suggested there cannot be the same life, the same brightness and
beauty, in relating the penitent part as is in the criminal part. If there
Is any truth in that suggestion, I must be allowed to say, 'tis because there
is not the same taste and relish in the reading ; and, indeed, it is too true
that the difference lies not in the real worth of the subject so much as in
the gust and palate of the reader.
But as this work is chiefly recommended to those who know how to
read it, and how to make the good uses of it which the story all along
recommends to them, so it is to be hoped that such readers will be much
more pleased with the moral than the fable, with the application than with
the relation, and with the end of the writer than with the life of the person
written of.
There it in this story abundance of delightful incidents, and all of them
xxvi AUTHOR'S PREFACE
usefully applied. There is an agreeable turn artfully given them in the
relating, that naturally instructs the reader, either one way or another.
The first part of her lewd life with the young gentleman at Colchester
has so many happy turns given it to expose the crime, and warn all whose
circumstances are adapted to it, of the ruinous end of such things, and
the foolish, thoughtless, and abhorred conduct of both the parties, that it
abundantly atones for all the lively description she gives of her folly and
wickedness.
The repentance of her lover at Bath, and how brought by the just alarm
of his fit of sickness to abandon her; the just caution given there against
even the lawful intimacies of the dearest friends, and how unable they
are to preserve the most solemn resolutions of virtue without divine assist
ance; these are parts which, to a just discernment, will appear to have
more real beauty in them than all the amorous chain of story which
introduces it.
In a word, as the whole relation is carefully garbled of all the levity
and looseness that was in it, so it is applied, and with the utmost care,
to virtuous and religious uses. None can, without being guilty of mani
fest injustice, cast any reproach upon it, or upon our design in publish-
advocates for the stage have, in all ages, made this the great argu
ment to persuade people that their plays are useful, and that they ought
to be allowed in the most civilised and in the most religious government;
namely, that they are applied to virtuous purposes, and that, by the most
lively representations, they fail not to recommend virtue and generous
principles, and to discourage and expose all sorts of vice and corruption
of manners; and were it true that they did so, and that they constantly
adhered to that rule as the test of their acting on the theatre, much might
be said in their favour.
Throughout the infinite variety of this book, this fundamental is most
strictly adhered to; there is not a wicked action in any part of it, but is
first or last rendered unhappy and unfortunate; there is not a superlative
villain brought upon the stage, but either he is brought to an unhappy
end, or brought to be a penitent ; there is not an ill thing mentioned, but
it is condemned, even in the relation, nor a virtuous, just thing, but it
carries its praise along with it. What can more exactly answer the rule
laid down, to recommend even those representations of things which have
so many other just objections lying against them? namely, of example of
bad company, obscene language, and the like.
Upon this foundation this book is recommended to the reader, as a
work from every part of which something may be learned, and some just
and religious inference is drawn, by which the reader will have something
of instruction if he pleases to make use of it.
All the exploits of this lady of fame, in her depredations upon man
kind, stand as so many warnings to honest people to beware of them,
intimating to them by what methods innocent people are drawn in, plun
dered, and robbed, and by consequence how to avpid them. Her robbing
a little child, dressed fine by the vanity of the mother, to go to the dancing-
school, is a good memento to such people hereafter, as is likewise her
picking the gold watch from the young lady's side in the park.
Her getting a parcel from a hare-brained wench at the coaches in St
John's Street; her booty at the fire, and also at Harwich, all give us
AUTHOR'S PREFACE xxvn
excellent warning in such cases to be more present to ourselves in sudden
surprises of every sort.
Her application to a sober life and industrious management at last, in
Virginia, with her transported spouse, is a story fruitful of instruction to
all the unfortunate creatures who are obliged to seek their re-establishment
abroad, whether by the misery of transportation or other disaster; letting
them know that diligence and application have their due encouragement,
even in the remotest part of the world, and that no case can be so low,
so despicable, or so empty of prospect, but that an unwearied industry
will go a great way to deliver us from it, will in time raise the meanest
creature to appear again in the world, and give him a new cast for his life.
These are a few of the serious inferences which we are led by the hand
to in this book, and these are fully sufficient to justify any man in recom
mending it to the world, and much more to justify the publication of it.
There are two of the most beautiful parts still behind, which this story
gives some idea of, and lets us into the parts of them, but they are either
of them too long to be brought into the same volume, and indeed are, as
I may call them, whole volumes of themselves, viz. : I. The life of her
governess, as she calls her, who had run through, it seems, in a few years,
all the eminent degrees of a gentlewoman, a whore, and a bawd; a mid
wife and a midwife-keeper, as they are called ; a pawnbroker, a child-taker, a
receiver of thieves, and of stolen goods ; and, in a word, herself a thief, a
breeder-up of thieves, and the like, and yet at last a penitent.
The second is the life of her transported husband, a highwayman, who,
it seems, lived a twelve years' life of successful villainy upon the road,
and even at last came off so well as to be a volunteer transport, not a
convict ; and in whose life there is an incredible variety.
But, as I said, these are things too long to bring in here, so neither can
I make a promise of their coming out by themselves.
We cannot say, indeed, that this history is carried on quite to the end
of the life of this famous Moll Flanders, for nobody can write their own
life to the full end of it, unless they can write it after they are dead. But
her husband's life, being written by a third hand, gives a full account of
them both, how long they lived together in that country, and how they
came both to England again, after about eight years, in which time they
were grown very rich, and where she lived, it seems, to be very old, but
was not so extraordinary a penitent as she was at first; it seems only
that indeed she always spoke with abhorrence of her former life, and of
every part of it.
In her last scene, at Maryland and Virginia, many pleasant things happen
ed, which makes that part of her life very agreeable, but they are not
told with the same elegancy as those accounted for by herself; so it is
still to the more advantage that we break off here.
THE
FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES
OF THE FAMOUS
MOLL FLANDERS
MY true name is so well known in the records or registers at Newgate,
and in the Old Bailey, and there are some things of such conse
quence still depending there, relating to my particular conduct, that it is
not to be expected I should set my name or the account of my family to
this work; perhaps after my death it may be better known; at present it
would not be proper, no, not though a general pardon should be issued,
even without exceptions of persons or crimes.
It is enough to tell you, that as some of my worst comrades, who are
out of the way of doing me harm (having gone out of the world by the
steps and the string, as I often expected to go), knew me by the name of
Moll Flanders, so you may give me leave to go under that name till I
dare own who I have been, as well as who I am.
*"!' have been told, that in one of our neighbour nations, whether it be
in France, or where else I know not, they have an order from the king,
that when any criminal is condemned, either to die, or to the galleys, or
to be transported, if they leave any children, as such are generally
unprovided for, by the forfeiture of their parents, so they are immediately
taken into the care of the government, and put into an hospital called the
House of Orphans, where they are bred up, clothed, fed, taught, and when
fit to go out, are placed to trades, or to services, so as to be well able
to provide for themselves by an honest, industrious behaviour.
Had this been the custom in our country, I had not been left a poor
desolate girl without friends, without clothes, without help or helper, as
was my fate; and by which I was not only exposed to very great dis
tresses, even before I was capable either of understanding my case, or how
to amend it, but brought into a course of life, scandalous in itself, and
which in its ordinary course tended to the swift destruction both of soul
and body.
But the case was otherwise here. My mother was convicted of felony
for a petty theft, scarce worth naming, viz., borrowing three pieces of fine
holland of a certain draper in Cheapside. The circumstances are too long
to repeat, and I have heard them related so many ways, that I can scarce
tell which is the right account.
However it was, they all agree in this, that my mother pleaded her
belly, and, being found quick with child, she was respited for about seven
months ; after which she was called down, as they term it, to her former
judgment, but obtained the favour afterward of being transported to the
plantations, and left me about half a year old, and in bad hands you
may be sure.
2 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
This is too near the first hours of my life for me to relate anything of
myself but by hearsay ; 'tis enough to mention, that, as I was born in such
an unhappy place, I had no parish to have recourse to for my nourish
ment in my infancy; nor can I give the least account how I was kept
alive, other than that, as I have been told, some relation of my mother
took me away, but at whose expense, or by whose direction, I know
nothing at all of it.
The first account that I can recollect, or could ever learn, of myself, was
that I had wandered among a crew of those people they call gipsies, or
Egyptians ; but I believe it was but a little while that I had been among
them, for I had not had my skin discoloured, as they do to all children
they carry about with them; nor can I tell how I came among them, or
how I got from them.
It was at Colchester, in Essex, that those people left me, and I have a
notion in my head that I left them there (that is, that I hid myself and
would not go any farther with them), but I am not able to be particular
in that account; only this I remember, that being taken up by some of
the parish officers of Colchester, I gave an account that I came into the
town with the gipsies, but that I would not go any farther with them,
and that so they had left me, but whither they were gone, that I knew
not; for though they sent round the country to inquire after them, it
seems they could not be found.
I was now in a way to be provided for; for though I was not a parish
charge upon this or that part of the town by law, yet, as my case came
to be known, and that I was too young to do any work, being not above
three years old, compassion moved the magistrates of the town to take
care of me, and I became one of their own as much as if I had been
born in the place.
In the provision they made for me, it was my good hap to be put to
nurse, as they call it, to a woman who was indeed poor, but had been in
better circumstances, and who got a little livelihood by taking such as I
was supposed to be, and keeping them with all necessaries, till they
were at a certain age, in which it might be supposed they might go to
service, or get their own bread.
This woman had also a little school, which she kept to teach children
to read and to work; and having, I say, lived before that in good fashion,
she bred up the children with a great deal of art, as well as with a
great deal of care.
But, which was worth all the rest, she bred them up very religiously
also, being herself a very sober, pious woman; secondly, very housewifely
and clean; and, thirdly, very mannerly, and with good behaviour. So
that, excepting a plain diet, coarse lodging, and mean clothes, we were
brought up as mannerly as if we had been at the dancing-school.
I was continued here till I was eight years old, when I was terrified
with news that the magistrates (as I think they called them) had ordered
that, I should go to service. I was able to do but very little, wherever I
was to go, except it was to run of errands, and be a drudge to some
cookmaid, and this they told me often, which put me into a great fright;
for I had a thorough aversion to going to service, as they called it,
though I was so young ; and I told my nurse, that I believed I could get
my living without going to service, if she pleased to let me; for she had
taught me to work with my needle, and spin worsted, which is the chief
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 3
trade of that city, and I told her that if she would keep me, I would
work for her, and I would work very hard.
I talked to her almost every day of working hard ; and, in short, I did
nothing but work and cry all day, which grieved the good, kind woman
so much, that at last she began to be concerned for me, for she loved
me very well.
One day after this, as she came into the room, where all the poor
children were at work, she sat down just over against me, not in her
usual place as mistress, but as if she had set herself on purpose to
observe me and see me work. I was doing something she had set me to,
as I remember it was marking some shirts, which she had taken to make,
and after a while she began to talk to me. 'Thou foolish child', says
she, 'thou art always crying' (for I was crying then). 'Prithee, what
dost cry for?' 'Because they will take me away', says I, 'and put me to
service, and I can't work house-work.' 'Well, child', says she, 'but
though you can't work house-work, you will learn it in time, and they
won't put you to hard things at first.' 'Yes, they will', says I; 'and if
I can't do it they will beat me, and the maids will beat me to make me
do great work, and I am but a little girl, and I can't do it'; and then I
cried again, till I could not speak any more.
This moved my good, motherly nurse, so that she resolved I should not
go to service yet ; so she bid me not cry, and she would speak to Mr
Mayor, and I should not go to service till I was bigger.
Well, this did not satisfy me, for to think of going to service at all
was such a frightful thing to me, that if she had assured me I should not have
gone till I was twenty years old, it would have been the same to me; I
should have cried all the time, with the very apprehension of its being to
be so at last.
When she saw that I was not pacified yet, she began to be angry with
me. 'And what would you have?' says she. 'Don't I tell you that you
shall not go to service till you are bigger?' 'Ay', says I, 'but then I
must go at last.' ' Why, what ', said she, ' is the girl mad ? What ! Would
you be a gentlewoman?' 'Yes', says I, and cried heartily till I roared
out again.
This set the old gentlewoman a-laughing at me, as you may be sure it
would. 'Well, madam, forsooth', says she, gibing at me, 'you would be
a gentlewoman; and how will you come to be a gentlewoman? Whatl
will you do it by your fingers' ends?'
' Yes ', says I again, very innocently.
' Why, what can you earn ', says she ; ' what can you get a day at your work ? *
' Threepence ', said I, ' when I spin, and fourpence when I work plain work.'
'Alas! poor gentlewoman', said she again, laughing, 'what will that
do for thee?'
'It will keep me', says I, 'if you will let me live with you'; and this
I said in such a poor, petitioning tone, that it made the poor woman's
heart yearn to me, as she told me afterwards.
'But', says she, 'that will not keep you and buy you clothes too; and
who must buy the little gentlewoman clothes?' says she, and smiled all
the while at me.
I will work harder then', says I, 'and you shall have it all.'
'Poor child 1 it won't keep you', said she; 'it will hardly find you in
victuals.'
4 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
'Then I would have no victuals', says I again, very innocently; 'let
me but live with you.'
'Why, can you live without victuals?' says she. 'Yes', again says I,
very much like a child, you may be sure, and still I cried heartily.
I had no policy in all this; you may easily see it was all nature; but
it was joined with so much innocence and so much passion that, in short,
it set the good, motherly creature a-weeping too, and at last she cried as
fast as I did, and then took me and led me out of the teaching-room.
' Come ', says she, ' you shan't go to service ; you shall live with me ' ; and
this pacified me for the present.
After this, she going to wait on the Mayor, my story came up, and my
good nurse told Mr Mayor the whole tale ; he was so pleased with it, that
he would call his lady and his two daughters to hear it, and it made mirth
enough among them, you may be sure.
However, not a week had passed over, but on a sudden comes Mrs
Mayoress and her two daughters to the house to see my old nurse, and
to see her school and the children. When they had looked about them
a little, ' Well, Mrs ', says the Mayoress to my nurse, ' and pray which
is the little lass that is to be a gentlewoman?' I heard her, and I was
terribly frighted, though I did not know why neither; but Mrs Mayoress
comes up to me, ' Well, miss ', says she, ' and what are you at work upon ? '
The word miss was a language that had hardly been heard of in our school,
and I wondered what sad name it was she called me ; however, I stood up,
made a curtsey, and she took my work out of my hand, looked on it, and
said it was very well ; then she looked upon one of my hands. ' Nay, she
may come to be a gentlewoman', says she, 'for aught I know; she has a
lady's hand, I assure you.' This pleased me mightily; but Mrs Mayoress
did not stop there, but put her hand in her pocket, gave me a shilling,
and bid me mind my work, and learn to work well, and I might be a
gentlewoman for aught she knew.
All this while my good old nurse, Mrs Mayoress, and all the rest of
them, did not understand me at all, for they meant one sort of thing by
the word gentlewoman, and I meant quite another ; for, alas ! all I under
stood by being a gentlewoman, was to be able to work for myself, and
get enough to keep me without going to service, whereas they meant to
live great and high, and I know not what.
Well, after Mrs Mayoress was gone, her two daughters came in, and
they called for the gentlewoman too, and they talked a long while to me,
and I answered them in my innocent way; but always, if they asked me
whether I resolved td be a gentlewoman, I answered, 'Yes'. At last they
asked me what a gentlewoman was? That puzzled me much. However,
I explained myself negatively, that it was one that did not go to service,
to do house-work; they were mightily pleased, and liked my little prattle
to them, which, it seems, was agreeable enough to them, and they gave
me money too.
As for my money, I gave it all to my mistress-nurse, as I called her,
and told her she should have all I got when I was a gentlewoman as
well as now. By this and some other of my talk, my old tutoress began
to understand what I meant by being a gentlewoman, and that it was no
more than to be able to get my bread by my own work; and at last she
asked me whether it was not so.
I told her, yes, and insisted on it, that to do so was to be a gentlewoman j
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 5
•for', says I, 'there is such a one', naming a woman that mended lace and
washed the ladies' laced heads j 'she', says I, 'is a gentlewoman, and they
call her madam.'
'Poor child', says my good old nurse, 'you may soon be such a gentle
woman as that, for she is a person of ill fame, and has had two bastards.'
I did not understand anything of that; but I answered, 'I am sure they
call her madam, and she does not go to service, nor do house-work ' ; and
therefore I insisted that she was a gentlewoman, and I would be such a
gentlewoman as that.
The ladies were told all this again, and they made themselves merry
with it, and every now and then Mr Mayor's daughters would come and
see me, and ask where the little gentlewoman was, which made me not a
little proud of myself besides. I was often visited by these young ladies,
and sometimes they brought others with them ; so that I was known by it
almost all over the town.
I was now about ten years old, and began to look a little womanish,
for I was mighty grave, very mannerly, and as I had often heard the ladies
say I was pretty, and would be very handsome, you may be sure it made
me not a little proud. However, that pride had no ill effect upon me yet ;
only, as they often gave me money, and I gave it my old nurse, she, honest
woman, was so just as to lay it out again for me, and gave me head
dresses, and linen, and gloves, and I went very neat, for if I had rags on,
I would always be clean, or else I would dabble them in water myself;
but, I say, my good nurse, when I had money given me, very honestly
laid it out for me, and would always tell the ladies this or that was bought
with their money; and this made them give me more, till at last I was
indeed called upon by the magistrates to go out to service. But then I
was become so good a workwoman myself, and the ladies were so kind
to me, that I was past it; for I could earn as much for my nurse as was
enough to keep me; so she told them, that if they would give her leave,
she would keep the gentlewoman, as she called me, to be her assistant,
and teach the children, which I was very well able to do ; for I was very
nimble at my work, though I was yet very young.
But the kindness of the ladies did not end here, for when they understood
that I was no more maintained by the town as before, they gave me money
oftener ; and, as I grew up, they brought me work to do for them, such as
linen to make, laces to mend, and heads to dress up, and not only paid
me for doing them, but even taught me how to do them; so that I was
a gentlewoman indeed, as I understood that word ; for before I was twelve
years old, I not only found myself clothes, and paid my nurse for my
keeping, but got money in my pocket too.
The ladies also gave me clothes frequently of their own, or their children's ;
some stockings, some petticoats, some gowns, some one thing, some another;
and these my old woman managed for me like a mother, and kept them for
me, obliged me to mend them, and turn them to the best advantage, for
she was a rare housewife.
At last one of the ladies took such a fancy to me that she would have
me home to her house, for a month, she said, to be among her daughters.
Now, though this was exceeding kind in her, yet, as my good woman
said to her, unless she resolved to keep me for good and all, she would
do the little gentlewoman more harm than good. 'Well', says the lady,
'that's true; I'll only take her home for a week, then, that I may see how
6 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
my daughters and she agree, and how I like her temper, and then I'll tell
you more ; and in the meantime, if anybody comes to see her as they used
to do, you may only tell them you have sent her out to my house.'
This was prudently managed enough, and I went to the lady's house;
but I was so pleased there with the young ladies, and they so pleased
with me, that I had enough to do to come away, and they were as unwilling
to part with me.
However, I did come away, and lived almost a year more with my honest
old woman, and began now to be very helpful to her; for I was almost
fourteen years old, was tall of my age, and looked a little womanish ; but
I had such a taste of genteel living at the lady's house that I was not so
easy in my old quarters as I used to be, and I thought it was fine to be
a gentlewoman indeed, for I had quite other notions of a gentlewoman
now than I had before; and as I thought that it was fine to be a gentle
woman, so I loved to be among gentlewomen, and therefore I longed to
be there again.
When I was about fourteen years and a quarter old, my good old nurse,
mother I ought to call her, fell sick and died. I was then in a sad con
dition indeed, for, as there is no great bustle in putting an end to a poor
body's family when once they are carried to the grave, so the poor good
woman being buried, the parish children were immediately removed by the
churchwardens ; the school was at an end, and the day children of it had
no more to do but just stay at home till they were sent somewhere else.
As for what she left, a daughter, a married woman, came and swept it
all away, and removing the goods, they had no more to say to me than
to jest with me, and tell me that the little gentlewoman might set up for
herself if she pleased.
I was frighted out of my wits almost, and knew not what to do; for I
was, as it were, turned out of doors to the wide world, and that which
was still worse, the old, honest woman had two-and-twenty shillings of
mine in her hand, which was all the estate the little gentlewoman had in
the world ; and, when I asked the daughter for it, she huffed me, and told
me she had nothing to do with it.
It was true the good, poor woman had told her daughter of it, and
that it lay in such a place, that it was the child's money, and had called
once or twice for me to give it me, but I was unhappily out of the way,
and, when I came back, she was past being in a condition to speak of it.
However, the daughter was so honest afterwards as to give it me, though
at first she used me cruelly about it.
Now was I a poor gentlewoman indeed, and I was just that very night
to be turned into the wide world ; for the daughter removed all the goods,
and I had not so much as a lodging to go to, or a bit of bread to eat.
But it seems some of the neighbours took so much compassion of me as
to acquaint the lady in whose family I had been; and immediately she
sent her maid to fetch me, and away I went with them bag and baggage,
and with a glad heart, you may be sure. The fright of my condition had
made such an impression upon me that I did not want now to be a gentle
woman, but was very willing to be a servant, and that any kind of servant
they thought fit to have me be.
But my new generous mistress had better thoughts for me. I call her
generous, for she exceeded the good woman I was with before in everything,
as in estate; I say, in everything except honesty; and for that, though this
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS ?
was a lady most exactly just, yet I must not forget to say on all occasions,
that the first, though poor, was as uprightly honest as it was possible.
I was no sooner carried away, as I have said, by this good gentlewoman,
but the first lady, that is to say, the Mayoress that was, sent her daughters
to take care of me; and another family which had taken notice of me when
I was the little gentlewoman sent for me after her, so that I was mightily
made of; nay, and they were not a little angry, especially the Mayoress,
that her friend had taken me away from her; for, as she said, I was hers
by right, she having been the first that took any notice of me. But they
that had me would not part with me; and as for me, I could not be better
than where I was.
Here I continued till T was between seventeen and eighteen years old,
and here I had all the advantages for my education that could be imagined ;
the lady had masters home to teach her daughters to dance, and to speak
French, and to write, and others to teach them music; and, as I was
always with them, I learned as fast as they ; and though the masters were
not appointed to teach me, yet I learned by imitation and inquiry all that
they learned by instruction and direction; so that, in short, I learned to
dance and speak French as well as any of them, and to sing much better,
for I had a better voice than any of them. I could not so readily come
at playing the harpsichord or the spinet, because I had no instrument of
my own to practise on, and could only come at theirs in the intervals
when they left it ; but yet I learned tolerably well, and the young ladies
at length got two instruments, that is to say, a harpsichord and a spinet
too, and then they taught me themselves. But as to dancing, they could
hardly help my learning country-dances, because they always wanted me
to make up even number; and, on the other hand, they were as heartily
willing to learn me everything that they had been taught themselves as I
could be to take the learning.
By this means I had, as I have said, all the advantages of education
that I could have had if I had been as much a gentlewoman as they were
with whom I lived; and in some things I had the advantage of my ladies,
though they were my superiors, viz., that mine were all the gifts of nature,
and which all their fortunes could not furnish. First, I was apparently
handsomer than any of them; secondly, I was better shaped; and, thirdly,
I sang better, by which I mean, I had a better voice; in all which you
will, I hope, allow me to say, I do not speak my own conceit, but the
opinion of all that knew the family.
I had, with all these, the common vanity of my sex, viz., that being
really taken for very handsome, or, if you please, for a great beauty, I
very well knew it, and had as good an opinion of myself as anybody else
could have of me, and particularly I loved to hear anybody speak of it,
which happened often, and was a great satisfaction to me.
Thus far I have had a smooth story to tell of myself, and in all this part
of my life I not only had the reputation of living in a very good family,
and a family noted and respected everywhere for virtue and sobriety, and
for every valuable thing, but I had the character too of a very sober,
modest, and virtuous young woman, and such I had always been ; neither
had I yet any occasion to think of anything else, or to know what a
temptation to wickedness meant.
But that which I was too vain of, was my ruin, or rather my vanity was
the cause of it. The lady in the house where I was had two sons, young
8 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
gentlemen of extraordinary parts and behaviour, and it was my misfortune
to be very well with them both, but they managed themselves with me
in a quite different manner.
The eldest, a gay gentleman, that knew the town as well as the country,
and, though he had levity enough to do an ill-natured thing, yet had too
much judgment of things to pay too dear for his pleasures; he began with
that unhappy snare to all women, viz. taking notice upon all occasions
how pretty I was, as he called it, how agreeable, how well-carriaged, and
the like ; and this he contrived so subtly, as if he had known as well how
to catch a woman in his net as a partridge when he went a-setting, for
he would contrive to be talking this to his sisters, when, though I was
not by, yet he knew I was not so far off but that I should be sure to
hear him. His sisters would return softly to him, 'Hush, brother, she
will hear you; she is but in the next room.' Then he would put it off
and talk softlier, as if he had not known it, and begin to acknowledge
he was wrong ; and then, as if he had forgot himself, he would speak
aloud again, and I, that was so well pleased to hear it, was sure to listen
for it upon all occasions.
After he had thus baited his hook, and found easily enough the method
how to lay it in my way, he played an open game; and one day, going
by his sister's chamber when I was there, he comes in with an air of
gaiety. 'Oh, Mrs Betty', said he to me, 'how do you do, Mrs Betty?
Don't your cheeks burn, Mrs Betty?' I made a curtsey and blushed, but
said nothing. ' What makes you talk so, brother ? ' said the lady. ' Why ',
says he, 'we have been talking of her below-stairs this half-hour.' 'Well',
says his sister, 'you can say no harm of her, that I am sure, so 'tis no
matter what you have been talking about.' 'Nay', says he, ''tis so far
from talking harm of her, that we have been talking a great deal of good,
and a great many fine things have been said of Mrs Betty, I assure you;
and particularly, that she is the handsomest young woman in Colchester;
and, in short, they begin to toast her health in the town.'
'I wonder at you, brother', says the sister. 'Betty wants but one
thing, but she had as good want everything, for the market is against our
sex just now; and if a young woman has beauty, birth, breeding, wit, sense,
manners, modesty, and all to an extreme, yet if she has not money she's
nobody, she had as good want them all; nothing but money now recom
mends a woman ; the men play the game all into their own hands.'
Her younger brother, who was by, cried, ' Hold, sister, you run too
fast ; I am an exception to your rule. I assure you, if I find a woman so
accomplished as you talk of, I won't trouble myself about the money.'
'Oh', says the sister, 'but you will take care not to fancy one then without
the money.'
•You don't know that neither', says the brother.
•But why, sister', says the elder brother, 'why do you exclaim so about the
fortune ? You are none of them that want a fortune, whatever else you want.'
•1 understand you, brother', replies the lady very smartly; 'you suppose
I have the money, and want the beauty; but as times go now, the first
will do, so I have the better of my neighbours.'
•Well', says the younger brother, 'but your neighbours may be even
with you, for beauty will steal a husband sometimes in spite of money,
and, when the maid chances to be handsomer than the mistress, she often
times makes as good a market, and rides in a coach before her.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS Q
I thought it was time for me to withdraw, and I did so, but not so far
but that I heard all their discourse, in which I heard abundance of fine
things said of myself, which prompted my vanity, but, as I soon found,
was not the way to increase my interest in the family, for the sister and
the younger brother fell grievously out about it; and as he said some very
disobliging things to her, upon my account, so I could easily see that she
resented them by her future conduct to me, which indeed was very unjust,
for I had never had the least thought of what she suspected as to her
younger brother; indeed, the elder brother, in his distant, remote way, had
said a great many things as in jest, which I had the folly to believe were
in earnest, or to flatter myself with the hopes of what I ought to have
supposed he never intended.
It happened one day that he came running upstairs, towards the room
where his sisters used to sit and work, as he often used to do ; and calling
to them before he came in, as was his way too, I being there alone,
stepped to the door, and said 'Sir, the ladies are not here; they are
walked down the garden,' As I stepped forward to say this, he was just
got to the door, and, clasping me in his arms, as if it had been by chance,
'Oh, Mrs Betty', says he, 'are you here? That's better still; I want to
speak with you more than I do with them ' ; and then, having me in his
arms, he kissed me three or four times.
I struggled to get away, and yet did it but faintly neither, and he held
me fast, and still kissed me, till he was out of breath, and, sitting down,
says he, 'Dear Betty, I am in love with you.'
His words, I must confess, fired my blood; all my spirits flew about
my heart, and put me into dfsorder enough. He repeated it afterwards
several times, that he was in love with me, and my heart spoke as plain
as a voice that I liked it; nay, whenever he said 'I am in love with you',
my blushes plainly replied 'Would you were, sir.' However, nothing else
passed at the time; it was but a surprise, and I soon recovered myself.
He had stayed longer with me, but he happened to look out at the
window and see his sisters coming up the garden, so he took his leave,
kissed me again, told me he was very serious, and I should hear more of
him very quickly, and away he went infinitely pleased; and had there not
been one misfortune in it, I had been in the right, but the mistake lay
here, that Mrs Betty was in earnest, and the gentleman was not.
From this time my head ran upon strange things, and I may truly say
I was not myself, to have such a gentleman talk to me of being in love
with me, and of my being such a charming creature, as he told me I was.
These were things I knew not how to bear; my vanity was elevated to
the last degree. It is true I had my head full of pride, but, knowing
nothing of the wickedness of the times, I had not one thought of my
virtue about me; and, had my young master offered it at first sight, he
might have taken any liberty he thought fit with me; but he did not see
his advantage, which was my happiness for that time.
It was not long but he found an opportunity to catch me again, and
almost in the same posture; indeed, it had more of design in it on his
part, though not on my part. It was thus: the young ladies were gone
a-visiting with their mother ; his brother was out of town ; and, as for his
father, he had been at London for a week before. He had so well watched
me that he knew where I was, though I did not so much as know that
he was in the house, and he briskly comes up the stairs, and seeing me
10 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
at work, comes into the room to me directly, and began just as he did
before, with taking me in his arms, and kissing me for almost a quarter
of an hour together.
It was his younger sister's chamber that I was in, and, as there was
nobody in the house but the maid below-stairs, he was, it may be, the
ruder; in short, he began to be in earnest with me indeed. Perhaps he
found me a little too easy, for I made no resistance to him while he only
held me in his arms and kissed me; indeed, I was too well pleased with
it to resist him much.
Well, tired with that kind of work, we sat down, and there he talked
with me a great while; he said he was charmed with me, and that he
could not rest till he had told me how he was in love with me, and, if
I could love him again and would make him happy, I should be the
saving of his life, and many such fine things. I said little to him again,
but easily discovered that I was a fool, and that I did not in the least
perceive what he meant.
Then he walked about the room, and, taking me by the hand, I walked
with him; and by-and-by, taking his advantage, he threw me down upon
the bed, and kissed me there most violently; but, to give him his due,
offered no manner of rudeness to me — only kissed me a great while. After
this he thought he had heard somebody come upstairs, so he got off from
the bed, lifted me up, professing a great deal of love for me ; but told me
it was all an honest affection, and that he meant no ill to me, and with
that put five guineas into my hand, and went downstairs.
I was more confounded with the money than I was before with the love,
and began to be so elevated that I scarce knew the ground I stood on.
I am the more particular in this, that, if it comes to be read by any
innocent young body, they may learn from it to guard themselves against
the mischiefs which attend an early knowledge of their own beauty. If
a young woman once thinks herself handsome, she never doubts the truth
of any man that tells her he is in love with her ; for if she believes herself
charming enough to captivate him, 'tis natural to expect the effects of it.
This gentleman had now fired his inclination as much as he had nay vanity,
and, as if he had found that he had an opportunity, and was sorry he did
not take hold of it, he comes up again in about half-an-hour, and falls to work
with me again just as he did before, only with a little less introduction.
And first, when he entered the room, he turned about and shut the door.
'Mrs Betty', said he, 'I fancied before somebody was coming upstairs, but
it was not so; however', adds he, 'if they find me in the room with you,
they shan't catch me a-kissing of you.' I told him I did not know who
should be coming upstairs, for I believed there was nobody in the house
but the cook and the other maid, and they never came up those stairs.
'Well, my dear', says he, ''tis good to be sure, however'; and so he sits
down, and we began to talk. And now, though I was still on fire with
his first visit, and said little, he did as it were put words in my mouth,
telling me how passionately he loved me, and that, though he could not
till he came to his estate, yet he was resolved to make me happy then,
and himself too ; that is to say, to marry me, and abundance of such things,
which I, poor fool, did not understand the drift of, but acted as if there
was no kind of love but that which tended to matrimony; and if he had
spoken of that, I had no room, as well as no power, to have said noj
but we were not come to that length yet.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 1
We had not sat long, but he got up, and, stopping my very breath
with kisses, threw me upon the bed again ; but then he went further with
me than decency permits me to mention, nor had it been in my power to
have denied him at that moment had he offered much more than he did.
However, though he took these freedoms with me, it did not go to that
which they call the last favour, which, to do him justice, he did not
attempt; and he made that self-denial of his a plea for all his freedoms
with me upon other occasions after this. When this was over he stayed
but a little while, but he put almost a handful of gold in my hand, and
left me a thousand protestations of his passion for me, and of his loving
me above all the women in the world.
It will not be strange if I now began ta think; but, alas! it was but
with very little solid reflection. I had a most unbounded stock of vanity
and pride, and but a very little stock of virtue. I did indeed cast some
times with myself what my young master aimed at, but thought of nothing
but the fine words and the gold ; whether he intended to marry me or not
seemed a matter of no great consequence to me; nor did I so much as
think of making any capitulation for myself till he made a kind of formal
proposal to me, as you shall hear presently.
Thus I gave up myself to ruin without the least concern, and am a fair
memento to all young women whose vanity prevails over their virtue.
Nothing was ever so stupid on both sides. Had I acted as became me,
and resisted as virtue and honour required, he had either desisted his
attacks, finding no room to expect the end of his design, or had made
fair and honourable proposals of marriage ; in which case, whoever blamed
him, nobody could have blamed me. In short, if he had known me, and
how easy the trifle he aimed at was to be had, he would have troubled
his head no further, but have given me four or five guineas, and have lain
with me the next time he had come at me. On the other hand, if I had
known his thoughts, and how hard he supposed I would be to be gained,
I might have made my own terms, and, if I had not capitulated for an
immediate marriage, I might for a maintenance till marriage, and might
have had what I would; for he was rich to excess, besides what he had
in expectation; but I had wholly abandoned all such thoughts, and was
taken up only with the pride of my beauty, and of being beloved by such
a gentleman. As for the gold, I spent whole hours in looking upon it;
I told the guineas over a thousand times a day. Never poor vain creature
was so wrapt up with every part of the story as I was, not considering
what was before me, and how near my ruin was at the door; and indeed
I think I rather wished for that ruin than studied to avoid it.
In the meantime, however, I was cunning enough not to give the least
room to any in the family to imagine that I had the least correspondence
with him, I scarce ever looked towards him in public, or answered if
he spoke to me; when, but for all that, we had every now and then a
little encounter, where we had room for a word or two, and now and then
a kiss, but no fair opportunity for the mischief intended; and especially
considering that he made more circumlocution than he had occasion for;
and the work appearing difficult to him, he really made it so.
But as the devil is an unwearied tempter, so he never fails to find an
opportunity for the wickedness he invites to. It was one evening that I
was in the garden, with his two younger sisters and himself, when he
found means to convey a note into my hand, by which he told me that he
12 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
would to-morro\r desire me publicly to go of an errand for him, and that
I should see him somewhere by the way.
Accordingly, after dinner, he very gravely says to me, his sisters being
all by, 'Mrs Betty, I must ask a favour of you.' 'What's that?' says the
second sister. 'Nay, sister', says he very gravely, 'if you can't spare Mrs
Betty to-day, any other time will do. ' Yes, they said, they could spare
her well enough ; and the sister begged pardon for asking. ' Well, but ',
says the eldest sister, 'you must tell Mrs Betty what it is; if it be any
private business that we must not hear, you may call her out. There she
is.' 'Why, sister', says the gentleman very gravely, 'what do you mean?
I only desire her to go into the High Street' (and then he pulls out a
turnover) 'to such a shop'; and then he tells them a long story of two
fine neckcloths he had bid money for, and he wanted to have me go and
make an errand to buy a neck to that turnover that he showed, and if
they would not take my money for the neckcloths, to bid a shilling more,
and haggle with them; and then he made more errands, and so continued
to have such petty business to do that I should be sure to stay a good while.
When he had given me my errands, he told them a long story of a
visit he was going to make to a family they all knew, and where was to
be such-and-such gentlemen, and very formally asked his sisters to go with
him, and they as formally excused themselves, because of company that
they had notice was to come and visit them that afternoon; all which, by
the way, he had contrived on purpose.
He had scarce done speaking but his man came up to tell him that Sir
W H 's coach stopped at the door; so he runs down, and comes up
again immediately. ' Alas ! ' says he aloud, ' there's all my mirth spoiled at
once; Sir W has sent his coach for me, and desires to speak with me.'
It seems this Sir W was a gentleman who lived about three miles off,
to whom he had spoke on purpose to lend him his chariot for a particular
occasion, and had appointed it to call for him, as it did, about three o'clock.
Immediately he calls for his best wig, hat, and sword, and, ordering his
man to go to the other place to make his excuse — that was to say, he
made an excuse to send his man away — he prepares to go into the coach.
As he was going, he stopped awhile, and speaks mighty earnestly to me
about his business, and finds an opportunity to say very softly 'Come
away, my dear, as soon as ever you can.' I said nothing, but made a
curtsey, as if I had done so to what he said in public. In about a quarter
of an hour I went out too; I had no dress other than before, except that
I had a hood, a mask, a fan, and a pair of gloves in my pocket: so that
there was not the least suspicion in the house. He waited for me in a
back-lane which he knew I must pass by, and the coachman knew whither
to go, which was to a certain place, called Mile End, where lived a con
fidant of his, where we went in, and where was all the convenience in the
world to be as wicked as we pleased.
When we were together he began to talk very gravely to me, and to
tell me he did not bring me there to betray me ; that his passion for me
would not suffer him to abuse me; that he resolved to marry me as soon
as he came to his estate; that in the meantime, if I would grant his
request, he would maintain me very honourably ; and made me a thousand
protestations of his sincerity and of his affection to me ; and that he would
never abandon me, and, as I may say, made a thousand more preambles
than he need to have done.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 13
However, as he pressed me to speak, I told him I had no reason to
question the sincerity of his love to me after so many protestations, but — ,
and there I stopped, as if I left him to guess the rest. 'But what, my
dear?' says he. 'I guess what you mean: what if you should be with
child? Is not that it? Why, then', says he, 'I'll take care of you, and
provide for you, and the child too; and that you may see I am not in
jest', says he, 'here's an earnest for you', and with that he pulls out a
silk purse with a hundred guineas in it, and gave it me; 'and I'll give
you such another', says he, 'every year till I marry you.'
My colour came and went at the sight of the purse, and with the fire
of his proposal together, so that I could not say a word, and he easily
perceived it; so, putting the purse into my bosom, I made no more resi
stance to him, but let him do just what he pleased, and as often as he
pleased; and thus I finished my own destruction at once, for from this
day, being forsaken of my virtue and my modesty, I had nothing of value
left to recommend me, either to God's blessing or man's assistance.
But things did not end here. I went back to the town, did the business
he directed me to, and was at home before anybody thought me long.
As for my gentleman, he stayed out till late at night, and there was not
the least suspicion in the family either on his account or on mine.
We had after this frequent opportunities to repeat our crime, and
especially at home, when his mother and the young ladies went abroad
a-visiting, which he watched so narrowly as never to miss; knowing
always beforehand when they went out, and then failed not to catch me
all alone, and securely enough; so that we took our fill of our wicked
pleasures for near half-a-year; and yet, which was the most to my satis
faction, I was not with child.
But, before this half-year was expired, his younger brother, of whom I
have made some mention in the beginning of the story, falls to work
with me; and he, finding me alone in the garden one evening, begins a
story of the same kind to me, made good, honest professions of being in
in love with me, and, in short, proposes fairly and honourably to marry me.
I was now confounded, and driven to such an extremity as the like
was never known to me. I resisted the proposal with obstinacy, and
began to arm myself with arguments. I laid before him the inequality of
the match, the treatment I should meet with in the family, the ingratitude
it would be to his good father and mother, who had taken me into their
house upon such generous principles, and when I was in such a low
condition; and, in short, I said everything to dissuade him that I could
imagine except telling him the truth, which would indeed have put an end
to it all, but that I durst not think of mentioning.
But here happened a circumstance that I did not expect indeed, which
Eut me to my shifts; for this young gentleman, as he was plain and
onest, so he pretended to nothing but what was so too; and, knowing
his own innocence, he was not so careful to make his having a kindness
for Mrs Betty a secret in the house as his brother was. And though he
did not let them know that he had talked to me about it, yet he said
enough to let his sisters perceive he loved me, and his mother saw it
too, which, though they took no notice of to me, yet they did to him,
and immediately I found their carriage to me altered more than ever before.
I saw the cloud, though I did not foresee the storm. It was easy, I
•ay, to see their carriage was altered, and that it grew worse and worse
14 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
every day, till at last I got information that I should in a very little while
be desired to remove.
I was not alarmed at the news, having a full satisfaction that I should
be provided for; and especially considering that I had reason every day
to expect I should be with child, and that then I should be obliged to
remove without any pretences for it.
After some time the younger gentleman took an opportunity to tell me
that the kindness he had for me had got vent in the family. He did not
charge me with it, he said, for he knew well enough which way it came
out. He told me his way of talking had been the occasion of it, for that
he did not make his respect for me so much a secret as he might have
done, and the reason was, that he was at a point, that if I would consent
to have him, he would tell them all openly that he loved me, and that
he intended to marry me; that it was true his father and mother might
resent it, and be unkind, but he was now in a way to live, being bred
to the law, and he did not fear maintaining me; and that, in short, as he
believed I would not be ashamed of him, so he was resolved not to be
ashamed of me, and that he scorned to be afraid to own me now, whom
he resolved to own after I was his wife, and therefore I had nothing to
do but to give him my hand, and he would answer for all the rest.
I was now in a dreadful condition indeed, and now I repented heartily
my easiness with the eldest brother; not from any reflection of conscience,
for I was a stranger to those things, but I could not think of being a
whore to one brother and a wife to the other. It came also into my
thoughts that the first brother had promised to make me his wife when
he came to his estate; but I presently remembered, what I had often
thought of, that he had never spoken a word of having me for a wife
after he had conquered me for a mistress; and indeed, till now, though
I said I thought of it often, yet it gave no disturbance at all, for as he
did not seem in the least to lessen his affection to me, so neither did he
lessen his bounty, though he had the discretion himself to desire me not
to lay out a penny in clothes, or to make the least show extraordinary,
because it would necessarily give jealousy in the family, since everybody
knew I could come at such things no manner of ordinary way, but by
some private friendship, which they would presently have suspected.
I was now in a great strait, and knew not what to do ; the main
difficulty was this; the younger brother not only laid close siege to me,
but suffered it to be seen. He would come into his sister's room, and
his mother's room, and sit down, and talk a thousand kind things to me
even before their faces; so that the whole house talked of it, and his
mother reproved him for it, and their carriage to me appeared quite altered.
In short, his mother had let fall some speeches, as it she intended to put
me out of the family; that is, in English, to turn me out of doors. Now
I was sure this could not be a secret to his brother, only that he might
think, as indeed nobody else yet did, that the youngest brother had made
any proposal to me about it; but as I could easily see that it would go
further, so I saw likewise there was an absolute necessity to speak of it
to him, or that he would speak of it to me, but knew not whether 1
should break it to him or let it alone till he should break it to me.
Upon serious consideration, for indeed now I began to consider things
very seriously, and never till now, I resolved to tell him it first ; and it
was not long before I had an opportunity, for the very next day his
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 5
brother went to London upon some business, and the family being out
a-visiting, just as it happened before, and as indeed was often the case,
he came according to his custom to spend an hour or two with Mrs Betty.
When he had sat down a while, he easily perceived there was an
alteration in my countenance, that I was not so free and pleasant with
him as I used to be, and particularly, that I had been a-crying; he was
not long before he took notice of it, and asked me in very kind terms
what was the matter, and if anything troubled me. I would have put it
off if I could, but it was not to be concealed; so after suffering many
importunities to draw that out of me, which I longed as much as possible
to disclose, I told him that it was true something did trouble me, and
something of such a nature that I could hardly conceal from him, and
yet that I could not tell how to tell him of it neither ; that it was a thing
that not only surprised me, but greatly perplexed me, and that I knew
not what course to take, unless he would direct me. He told me with
great tenderness, that let it be what it would, I should not let it trouble
me, for he would protect me from all the world.
I then began at a distance, and told him I was afraid the ladies had
got some secret information of our correspondence; for that it was easy
to see that their conduct was very much changed towards me, and that
now it was come to pass that they frequently found fault with me, and
sometimes fell quite out with me, though I never gave them the least
occasion; that whereas I used always to lie with the elder sister, I was
lately put to lie by myself, or with one of the maids ; and that I had
overheard them several times talking very unkindly about me ; bnt that
which confirmed it all was, that one of the servants had told me that she
had heard I was to be turned out, and that it was not safe for the family
that I should be any longer in the house.
He smiled when he heard of this, and I asked him how he could make
so light of it, when he must needs know that if there was any discovery
I was undone, and that it would hurt him, though not ruin him, as it
would me. I upbraided him, that he was like the rest of his sex, that,
when they had the character of a woman at their mercy, oftentimes made
it their jest, and at least looked upon it as a trifle, and counted the ruin
of those they had had their will of as a thing of no value.
He saw me warm and serious, and he changed his style immediately;
he told me he was sorry I should have such a thought of him ; that he
had never given me the least occasion for it, but had been as tender of
my reputation as he could be of his own; that he was sure our corres
pondence had been managed with so much address, that not one creature
in the family had so much as a suspicion of it; that if he smiled when I
told him my thoughts, it was at the assurance he lately received, that out
understanding one another was not so much as guessed at, and that when
he had told me how much reason he had to be easy, I should smile as
he did, for he was very certain it would give me a full satisfaction.
'This is a mystery I cannot understand', says I, 'or how it should be
to my satisfaction that I am to be turned out of doors ; for if our corres
pondence is not discovered, I know not what else I have done to change
the faces of the whole family to me, who formerly used me with so much
tenderness, as if I had been one of their own children.'
'Why, look you, child', says he, 'that they are uneasy about you, that
is true; but that they have the least suspicion of the case as it is, and
1 6 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
as it respects you and I, is so far from being true, that they suspect my
brother Robin; and, in short, they are fully persuaded he makes love to
you; nay, the fool has put it into their heads too himself, for he is
continually bantering them about it, and making a jest of himself, I
confess I think he is wrong to do so, because he cannot but see it vexes
them, and makes them unkind to you; but it is a satisfaction to me,
because of the assurance it gives me, that they do not suspect me in the
least, and I hope this will be to your satisfaction too.'
' So it is ', says I, ' one way ; but this does not reach my case at all,
nor is this the chief thing that troubles me, though I have been concerned
about that too.' 'What is it, then?' says he. With which, I fell into
tears, and could say nothing to him at all. He strove to pacify me all
he could, but began at last to be very pressing upon me to tell what it
was. At last I answered, that I thought I ought to tell him too, and that
he had some right to know it; besides, that I wanted his direction in th»
case, for I was in such perplexity that I knew not what course to take,
and then I related the whole affair to him. I told him how imprudently
his brother had managed himself, in making himself so public; for that
if he had kept it a secret; I could but have denied him positively, without
giving any reason for it, and he would in time have ceased his solicitations ;
but that he had the vanity; first, to depend upon it that I would not
deny him, and then had taken the freedom to tell his design to the
whole house.
I told him how far I had resisted him, and how sincere and honourable
his offers were; 'but', says I, 'my case will be doubly hard; for as they
carry it ill to me now, because he desires to have me, they'll carry it
worse when they shall find I have denied him; and they will presently
say, there's something else in it, and that I am married already to
somebody else, or that I would never refnse a match so much above me
as this was.'
This discourse surprised him indeed very much. He told me that it
was a critical point indeed for me to manage, and he did not see which
way I should get out of it; but he would consider of it, and let me know
next time we met, what resolution he was come to about it; and in the
meantime desired I would not give my consent to his brother, nor yet
give him a flat denial, but that I would hold him in suspense a while.
I seemed to start at his saying, I should not give him my consent. I
told him, he knew very well I had no consent to give ; that he had engaged
himself to marry me, and that I was thereby engaged to him; that he had
all along told me I was his wife, and I looked upon myself as effectually
so as if the ceremony had passed; and that it was from his own mouth
that I did so, he having all along persuaded me to call myself his wife.
'Well, my dear', says he, 'don't be concerned at that nowj if I am not
your husband, I'll be as good as a husband to you ; and do not let those
things trouble you now, but let me look a little further into this affair, and
I shall be able to say more next time we meet.'
He pacified me as well as he could with this, but I found he was very
thoughtful, and that, though he was very kind to me, and kissed me a
thousand times, and more I believe, and gave me money too, yet he offered
no more all the while we were together, which was above two hours, and
which I much wondered at, considering how it used to be, and what
opportunity we had.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS I?
His brother did not come from London for five or six days, and it was
two days more before he got an opportunity to talk with him ; but then
getting him by himself, he talked very close to him about it, and the same
evening found means (for we had a long conference together) to repeat all
their discourse to me, which, as near as I can remember, was to the purpose
following. He told him he heard strange news of him since he went, viz.,
that he made love to Mrs Betty. 'Well', says his brother, a little angrily,
'and what then? What has anybody to do with that?' 'Nay', says his
brother, 'don't be angry, Robin; I don't pretend to have anything to do
with it, but I find they do concern themselves about it, and that they have
used the poor girl ill about it, which I should take as done to myself.'
'Whom do you mean by THEY?' says Robin. 'I mean my mother and
the girls ', says the elder brother.
'But hark ye', says his brother, 'are you in earnest? Do you really
love the girl?' 'Why, then', says Robin, 'I will be free with you; I do
love her above all the women in the world, and I will have her, let them
say and do what they will. I believe the girl will not deny me.'
It stuck me to the heart when he told me this, for though it was most
rational to think I would not deny him, yet I knew in my own conscience
I must, and I saw my ruin in my being obliged to do so; but I knew it
was my business to talk otherwise then, so I interrupted him in his story
thus: 'Ay!', said I, 'does he think I cannot deny him? But he shall find
I can deny him for all that.' 'Well, my dear', says he, 'but let me give
you the whole story as it went on between us, and then say what you will.'
Then he went on and told me that he replied thus: 'But, brother, you
know she has nothing, and you may have several ladies with good fortunes.'
•Tis no matter for that', said Robin; 'I love the girl, and I will never please
my pocket in marrying, and not please my fancy.' ' And so, my dear ', adds
he, 'there is no opposing him.'
'Yes, yes', says I; 'I can oppose him; I have learned to say No, now,
though I had not learnt it before; if the best lord in the land offered me
marriage now, I could very cheerfully say No to him.'
'Well, but, my dear', says he, 'what can you say to him? You know,
as you said before, he will ask you many questions about it, and all the
house will wonder what the meaning of it should be.'
'Why', says I, smiling, 'I can stop all their mouths at one clap by telling
him, and them too, that I am married already to his elder brother.'
He smiled a little too at the word, but I could see it startled him, and
he could not hide the disorder it put him into. However, he returned,
'Why, though that may be true in some sense, yet I suppose you are but
in jest when you talk of giving such an answer as that; it may not be
convenient on many accounts.'
'No, no', says I pleasantly, 'I am not so fond of letting that secret
come out, without your consent.'
' But what, then, can you say to them ', says he, ' when they find you
positive against a match which would be apparently so much to your
advantage?' 'Why', says I, 'should I be at a loss? First, I am not
obliged to give them any reason; on the other hand, I may tell them I
am married already, and stop there, and that will be a full stop too to
him, for he can have no reason to ask one question after it.'
'Ay!' says he; 'but the whole house will tease you about that, and if you
deny them positively, they will be disobliged at you, and suspicious besides.'
a
1 8 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
•Why', says I, 'what can I do? What would you have me do? I was
in strait enough before, as I told you, and acquainted you with the
circumstances, that I might have your advice.'
'My dear', says he, 'I have been considering very much upon it, you
may be sure, and though the advice has many mortifications in it to me,
and may at first seem strange to you, yet, all things considered, I see no
better way for you than to let him go on, and, if you find him hearty and
in earnest, marry him.'
I gave him a look full of horror at those words, and turning pale as
death, was at the very point of sinking down out of the chair I sat in;
when, giving a start, 'My dear', says he aloud, 'what's the matter with
you ? Where are you a-going ? ', and a great many such things ; and with
jogging and calling to me fetched me a little to myself, though it was a
good while before I fully recovered my senses, and was not able to speak
for several minutes.
When I was fully recovered he began again. 'My dear', says he, 'I
would have you consider seriously of it. You may see plainly how the
family stand in this case, and they would be stark mad if it was my case,
as it is my brother's ; and for aught I see it would be my ruin and yours too.'
'Ay!' says I, still speaking angrily; 'are all your protestations and vows
to be shaken by the dislike of the family? Did I not always object that
to you, and you made a light thing of it, as what you were above, and
would not value; and is it come to this now? Is this your faith and
honour, your love, and the solidity of your promises?'
He continued perfectly calm", notwithstanding all my reproaches, and I
was not sparing of them at all; but he replied at last, 'My dear, I have
not broken one promise with you yet; I did tell you I would marry you
when I was come to my estate ; but you see my father is a hale, healthy
man, and may live these thirty years still, and not be older than several
are round us in the town ; and you never proposed my marrying you sooner,
because you know it might be my ruin; and as to the rest, I have not
failed you in anything.'
I could not deny a word of this. 'But why, then', says I, 'can you
persuade me to such a horrid step as leaving you, since you have not left
me? Will you allow no affection, no love on my side, where there has
been so much on your side? Have I made you no returns? Have I given
no testimony of my sincerity and of my passion? Are the sacrifices I have
made of honour and modesty to you no proof of my being tied to you in
bonds too strong to be broken?'
'But here, my dear', says he, 'you may come into a safe station, and
appear with honour, and the remembrance of what we have done may be
wrapped up in an eternal silence, as if it had never happened; you shall
always have my sincere affection, only then it shall be honest, and perfectly
just to my brother; you shall be my dear sister, as now you are my
dear ' and there he stopped.
Your dear whore', says I, 'you would have said, and you might as
well have said it; but I understand you. However, I desire you to remember
the long discourses yon have had with me, and the many hours' pains you
have taken to persuade me to believe myself an honest woman; that I was
your wife intentionally, and that it was as effectual a marriage that had
passed between us as if we had been publicly wedded by the parson of
the parish. You know these have been your own words to me.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS ig
I found this was a little too close upon him, but I made it up in what
follows. He stood stock-still for a while, and said nothing, and I went
on thus: 'You cannot', says 1, 'without the highest injustice, believe that
I yielded upon all these persuasions without a love not to be questioned,
not to be shaken again by anything that could happen afterward. If you
have such dishonourable thoughts of me, I must ask you what foundation
have I given for such a suggestion? If, then, 1 have yielded to the im
portunities of my affection, and if I have been persuaded to believe that
I am really your wife, shall I now give the lie to all those arguments,
and call myself your whore, or mistress, which is the same thing? And
will you transfer me to your brother? Can you transfer my affection?
Can you bid me cease loving you, and bid me love him? Is it in my
power, think you, to make such a change at demand ? No, sir ', said I,
'depend upon it 'tis impossible, and whatever the change on your side
may be, I will ever be true ; and I had much rather, since it is come that
unhappy length, be your whore than your brother's wife.'
He appeared pleased and touched with the impression of this last dis
course, and told me that he stood where he did before; that he had not
been unfaithful to me in any one promise he had ever made yet, but that
there were so many terrible things presented themselves to his view in the
affair before me, that he had thought of the other as a remedy, only that
he thought this would not be an entire parting us, but we might love as
friends all our days, and perhaps with more satisfaction than we should
in the station we were now in; that he durst say, I could not apprehend
anything from him as to betraying a secret, which could not but be the
destruction of us both if it came out; that he had but one question to
ask of me that could lie in the way of it, and, if that question was answered,
he could not but think still it was the only step I could take.
I guessed at his question presently, viz. whether I was not with child.
As to that, I told him, he need not be concerned about it, for I was not
with child. 'Why, then, my dear', says he, 'we have no time to talk
further now. Consider of it; I cannot but be of the opinion still, that it
will be the best course you can take.' And with this he took his leave,
and the more hastily too, his mother and sisters ringing at the gate just
at the moment he had risen up to go.
He left me in the utmost confusion of thought; and he easily perceived
it the next day, and all the rest of the week, but he had no opportunity
to come at me all that week, till the Sunday after, when I, being indis
posed, did not go to church, and he, making some excuse, stayed at home.
And now he had me an hour and half again by myself, and we fell
into the same arguments all over again; at last I asked him warmly, what
opinion he must have of my modesty, that he could suppose I should so
much as entertain a thought of lying with two brothers, and assured him
it could never be. I added, if he was to tell me that he would never see
me more, than which nothing but death could be more terrible, yet I
could never entertain a thought so dishonourable to myself, and so base
to him; and therefore, I entreated him, if he had one grain of respect or
affection left for me, that he would speak no more of it to me, or that he
would pull his sword out and kill me. He appeared surprised at my
obstinacy, as he called it; told me I was unkind to myself; and unkind
to him in it; that it was a crisis unlooked for upon us both, but that he
did not see any other way to save us both from ruin, and therefore he
20 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
thought it the more unkind ; but that if he must say no more of it to me,
he added, with an unusual coldness, that he did not know anything else
we had to talk of; and so he rose up to take his leave. I rose up too,
as if with the same indifference; but when he came to give me as it were
a parting kiss, I burst out into such a passion of crying that, though I
would have spoke, I could not, and, only pressing his hand, seemed to
give him the adieu, but cried vehemently,
He was sensibly moved with this; so he sat down again, and said a
great many kind things to me, but still urged the necessity of what he had
proposed; all the while insisting, that, if I did refuse, he would notwith
standing provide for me ; but letting me plainly see that he would decline
me in the main point — nay, even as a mistress; making it a point of
honour not to lie with the woman that, for aught he knew, might one
time or other come to be his brother's wife.
The bare loss of him as a gallant was not so much my affliction as the
loss of his person, whom indeed I loved to disUacJioja ; and the loss of
all the expectations I had, and which I always built my hopes upon, of
having him one day for my husband. These things oppressed my mind
so much, that, in short, the agonies of my mind threw me into a high
fever, and long it was, that none in the family expected my life.
I was reduced very low indeed, and was often delirious; but nothing
lay so near me, as the fear that when I was light-headed, I should say
something or other to his prejudice. I was distressed In my mind also to
see him, and so he was to see me, for he really loved me most passion
ately; but it could not be; there was not the least room to desire it on
one side or other.
It was near five weeks that I kept my bed ; and, though the violence of
my fever abated in three weeks, yet it several times returned; and the
physicians said two or three times, they could do no more for me, but
that they must leave nature and the distemper to fight it out. After the
end of five weeks I grew better, but was so weak, so altered, and recovered
so slowly, that the physicians apprehended I should go into a consump
tion; and, which vexed me most, they gave their opinion that my mind
was oppressed, that something troubled me, and, in short, that I was in
love. Upon this, the whole house set upon me to press me to tell whether
I was in love or not, and with whomj but as I well might, I denied my
being in love at all.
They had on this occasion a squabble one day about me at table that
had like to put the whole family in an uproar. They happened to be all
at table but the father; as for me, I was ill, and in my chamber. At the
beginning of the talk, the old gentlewoman, who had sent me somewhat
to eat, bid her maid go up and ask me if I would have any more ; but
the maid brought down word I had not eaten half what she had sent me
already. ' Alas ', says the old lady, ' that poor girl ! I am afraid she will
never be well.' 'Well!' says the elder brother; 'how should Mrs Betty
be well? They say she is in love.' 'I believe nothing of it' says the old
gentlewoman, 'I don't know', says the elder sister, 'what to say to it;
they have made such a rout about her being so handsome, and so charming,
and I know not what, and that in her hearing too; that has turned the
creature's head, I believe, and who knows what possessions may follow
such doings? For my part, I don't know what to make of it.'
'Why, sister, you must acknowledge she is very handsome', says the
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 2 1
elder brother. 'Ay, an& a great deal handsomer than you, sister', says
Robin, 'and that's your mortification.' 'Well, well, that is not the question*
says his sister; 'the girl is well enough, and she knows it; she need not
be told of it to make her vain.'
'We don't talk of her being vain', says the elder brother, 'but of her
being in love; maybe she is in love with herself; it seems my sisters
think so.'
'I would she was in love with me', says Robin; 'I'd quickly put her
out of her pain.' 'What d'ye mean by that, son?' says the old lady;
'how can you talk so?' 'Why, madam', says Robin again, very honestly,
'do you think I'ld let the poor girl die for love, and of me, too, that is
so near at hand to be had?' 'Fie, brother!', says the second sister, 'how
can you talk so ? Would you take a creature that has not a groat in the
world?' 'Prithee, child', says Robin, 'beauty's a portion, and good
humour with it is a double portion; I wish thou hadst half her stock of
both for thy portion.' So there was her mouth stopped.
'I find', says the eldest sister, 'if Betty is not in love, my brother is.
I wonder he has not broke his mind to Betty; I warrant she won't say
No.' 'They that yield when they are asked', says Robin, 'are one step
before them that were never asked to yield, and two steps before them
that yield before they are asked; and that's an answer to you, sister.'
This fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said, things were
come to that pass that it was time the wench, meaning me, was out of
the family ; and but that she was not fit to be turned out, she hoped her
father and mother would consider of it, as soon as she could be removed.
Robin replied, that was for the master and mistress of the family, who
were not to be taught by one that had so little judgment as his eldest sister.
It ran up a great deal further; the sister scolded, Robin rallied and
bantered, but poor Betty lost ground by it extremely in the family. I heard
of it, and cried heartily, and the old lady came up to me, somebody
having told her that I was so much concerned about it. I complained to
her that it was very hard the doctors should pass such a censure upon
me, for which they had no ground ; and that it was still harder, conside
ring the circumstances I was under in the family; that I hoped I had done
nothing to lessen her esteem for me, or given any occasion for the bicker
ing between her sons and daughters, and had more need to think of a
coffin than of being in love, and begged she would not let me suffer in
her opinion for anybody's mistakes but my own.
She was sensible of the justice of what I said, but told me, since there
had been such a clamour among them, and that her younger son talked
after such a rattling way as he did, she desired I would be so faithful to
her as to answer her but one question sincerely. I told her I would, and
with the utmost plainness and sincerity. Why, then, the question was,
whether there was anything between her son Robert and me. I told her
with all the protestations of sincerity that I was able to make, and as I
might well do, that there was not, nor ever had been ; I told her that Mr
Robert had rattled and jested, as she knew it was his way, and that I
took it always as I supposed he meant it, to be a wild airy way of dis
course that had no signification in it; and assured her that there was not
the least tittle of what she understood by it between us; and that those
who had suggested it had done me a great deal of wrong, and Mr Robert
no service at all.
22 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
The old lady was fully satisfied, and kissed me, spoke cheerfully to me,
and bid me take care of my health and want for nothing, and so took
her leave. But when she came down she found the brother and all his
sisters together by the ears; they were angry, even to passion, at his
upbraiding them with their being homely, and having never had any
sweethearts, never having been asked the question, their being so forward
as almost to ask first, and the like. He rallied them with Mrs Betty; how
pretty, how good-humoured, how she sung better than they did, and danced
better, and how much handsomer she was ; and in doing this he omitted
no ill-natured thing that could vex them. The old lady came down in the
height of it, and to stop it, told them the discourse she had had with me,
and how I answered, that there was nothing between Mr Robert and I.
'She's wrong there', says Robin, 'for if there was not a great deal be
tween us, we should be closer together than we are. I told her I loved
her hugely', says he, 'but I could never make the jade believe I was in
earnest. 'I do not know how you should', says his mother; 'nobody in
their senses could believe you were in earnest, to talk so to a poor girl
whose circumstances you know so well.'
'But prithee, son', adds she, 'since you tell us you could not make her
believe you were in earnest, what must we believe about it? For you
ramble so in your discourse that nobody knows whether you are in earnest
or in jest; but as I find the girl, by your own confession, has answered
truly, I wish you would do so too, and tell me seriously, so that I may
depend upon it, is there anything in it or no? Are you in earnest or no?
Are you distracted, indeed, or are you not? 'Tis a weighty question; I
wish you would make us easy about it*
'By my faith, madam', says Robin, ''tis in vain to mince the matter,
or tell any more lies about it; I am in earnest, as much as a man is
that's going to be hanged. If Mrs Betty would say she loved me, and
that she would marry me, I'ld have her to-morrow morning fasting, and
say. "To have and to hold", instead of eating my breakfast.'
'Well', says the mother, 'then there's one son lost'; and she said it
in a very mournful tone, as one greatly concerned at it. 'I hope not,
madam ', says Robin ; ' no man is lost when a good wife has found him.'
'Why, but, child', says the old lady, 'she is a beggar.' 'Why, then,
madam, she has the more need of charity', says Robin; 'I'll take her off
the hands of the parish, and she and I'll beg together.' 'It's bad jesting
with such things , says the mother. 'I don't jest, madam', says Robin ;
'we'll come and beg your pardon, madam, and your blessing, madam,
and my father's.' 'This is all out of the way, son', says the mother. 'If
you are in earnest you are undone.' 'I am afraid not', says he, 'for I
am really afraid she won't have me, After all my sister's huffing, I believe
I shall never be able to persuade her to it.'
'That's a fine tale, indeed. She is not so far gone neither. Mrs Betty
is no fool', says the youngest sister. 'Do you think she has learned to
say No, any more than other people?' 'No, Mrs Mirth-wit', says Robin,
'Mrs Betty's no fool, but Mrs Betty may be engaged some other way,
and what then?' 'Nay', says the eldest sister, 'we can say nothing to
that. Who must it be to, then? She is never out of the doors ; it must
be between you.' '1 have nothing to say to that', says Robin. 'I have
been examined enough ; there's my brother. If it must be between us, go
to work with him.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 23
This stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded that Robin
had discovered something. However, he kept himself from appearing
disturbed. 'Prithee', says he, 'don't go to sham your stories off upon
me,- I tell you I deal in no such ware; I have nothing to say to no Mrs
Bettys in the parish'; and with that he rose up and brushed off. 'No',
says the eldest sister, 'I dare answer for my brother; he knows the world
better.'
Thus the discourse ended ; but it left the eldest brother quite confounded.
He concluded his brother had made a full discovery, and he began to
doubt whether I had been concerned in it or not ; but with all his manage
ment, he could not bring it about to get at me. At last, he was so
perplexed that he was quite desperate, and resolved fie" would see me
whatever came of it. In order to this, he contrived it so, that one day
after dinner, watching his eldest sister, till he could see her go upstairs,
he runs after her. 'Hark ye, sister', says he, 'where is this sick woman?
May not a body see her?' 'Yes', says the sister, 'I believe you may;
but let me go in first a little, and I'll tell you.' So she ran up to the
door, and gave me notice, and presently called to him again. 'Brother',
says she, 'you may come in, if you please.' So in he came, just in the
same kind of rant. 'Well', says he at the door, as he came in, 'where's
this sick body that's in love ? How do ye do, Mrs Betty ? ' I would have
got up out of my chair, but was so weak I could not for a good while;
and he saw it, and his sister too; and she said, 'Come, do not strive to
stand up ; my brother desires no ceremony, especially now you are so weak.'
'No, no, Mrs Betty, pray sit still'', says he; and so sits himself down in
a chair over against me, and appeared as if he was mighty merry.
He talked a deal of rambling stuff to his sister and to me; sometimes
of one thing, sometimes another, on purpose to amuse her, and every
now and then would turn it upon the old story. 'Poor Mrs Betty', says
he, 'it is a sad thing to be in love; why, it has reduced you sadly.'
At last I spoke a little. 'I am glad to see you so merry, sir', says I;
'but 1 think the doctor might have found something better to do than to
make his game of his patients. If I had been ill of no other distemper,
I know the proverb too well to have let him come to me.' ' What proverb ? '
says he. 'What:
Where love is the case,
The doctor's an ass
Is not that it, Mrs Betty?' I smiled, and said nothing. 'Nay', says he,
'I think the effect has proved it to be love; for it seems the doctor has
done you little service; you mend very slowly, they say. I doubt there's
somewhat in it, Mrs Betty ; I doubt you are sick of the incurables.' I
smiled, and said, 'No, indeed, sir, that's none of my distemper.'
We had a deal of such discourse, and sometimes others that signified
as little. By-and-by he asked me to sing them a song, at which I smiled,
and said my singing days were over. At last he asked me if he should
play upon his flute to me; his sister said she believed my head could
not bear it. I bowed, and said, 'Pray, madam, do not hinder it; I love
the flute very much.' Then his sister said, 'Well, do, then, brother.'
With that he pulled out the key of his closet. 'Dear sister', says he, 'I
dm very lazy; do step and fetch my flute; it lies in such a drawer',
24 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
naming a place where he was sure it was not, that she might be a little
while a-looking for it.
As soon as she was gone, he related the whole story to me of the
discourse his brother had about me, and his concern about it, which was
the reason of his contriving this visit. I assured him I had never opened
my mouth either to his brother or to anybody else. 1 told him the
dreadful exigence I was in; that my love to him, and his offering to have
me forget that affection and remove it to another, had thrown me down;
and that I had a thousand times wished I might die rather than recover,
and to have the same circumstances to struggle with as I had before. I
added that I foresaw that as soon as I was well I must quit the family,
and that, as for marrying his brother, I abhorred the thoughts of it after
what had been my case with him, and that he might depend upon it I
would never see his brother again upon that subject; that if he would
break all his vows, and oaths, and engagements with me, be that between
his conscience and himself; but he should never be able to say that I,
whom he had persuaded to call myself his wife, and who had given him
the liberty to use me as a wife, was not as faithful to him as a wife
ought to be, whatever he might be to me.
He was going to reply, and had said that he was sorry I could not be
persuaded, and was a-going to say more, but he heard his sister a-coming,
and so did I; and yet I forced out these few words as a reply, that I
could never be persuaded to love one brother and marry the other. He
shook his head, and said, • Then I am ruined ', meaning himself; and that
moment his sister entered the room, and told him she could not find the
flute. 'Well', says he merrily, 'this laziness won't do'; so he gets up,
and goes himself to look for it, but comes back without it too; not but
that he could have found it, but he had no mind to play; and, besides,
the errand he sent his sister on was answered another way; for he only
wanted to speak to me, which he had done, though not much to his
satisfaction.
I had, however, a great deal of satisfaction in having spoken my mind
to him in freedom, and with such an honest plainness, as I have related ;
and though it did not at all work the way I desired, that is to say, to
oblige the person to me the more, yet it took from him all possibility of
quitting me but by a downright breach of honour, and giving up all the
faith of a gentleman, which he had so often engaged by, never to abandon
me, but to make me his wife as soon as he came to his estate.
It was not many weeks after this before I was about the house again,
and began to grow well ; but I continued melancholy and retired, which
amazed the whole family, except he that knew the reason of it; yet it
was a great while before he took any notice of it, and I, as backward to
speak as he, carried as respectfully to him, but never offered to speak a
word that was particular of any kind whatsoever; and this continued for
sixteen or seventeen weeks ; so that, as I expected every day to be dismissed
the family, on account of what distaste they had taken another way, in
which I had no guilt, I expected to hear no more of this gentleman,
after all his solemn vows, but to be ruined and abandoned.
At last I broke the way myself in the family for my removing; for
being talking seriously with the old lady one day, about my own circum
stances, and how my distemper had left a heaviness upon my spirits, the
old lady said, 'I am afraid, Betty, what I have said to you about my son
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 25
has had some influence upon you, and that you are melancholy on his
account ; pray, will you let me know how the matter stands with you both,
if it may not be improper? For, as for Robin, he does nothing but rally
and banter when I speak of it to him.' 'Why, truly, madam', said I,
'that matter stands as I wish it did not, and I shall be very sincere with
you in it, whatever befalls me. Mr Robert has several times proposed
marriage to me, which is what I had no reason to expect, my poor cir
cumstances considered; but I have always resisted him, and that perhaps
in terms more positive than became me, considering the regard that I
ought to have for every branch of your family; but', said I, 'madam, I
could never so far forget my obligations to you and all your house, to
offer to consent to a thing which I knew must needs be disobliging to
you, and have positively told him that I would never entertain a thought
of that kind unless 1 had your consent, and his father's also, to whom I
was bound by so many invincible obligations.'
' And is this possible, Mrs Betty ? ' says the old lady. ' Then you have
been much juster to us than we have been to you; for we have all looked
upon you as a kind of a snare to my son, and I had a proposal to make
you for your removing, for fear of it; but I had not yet mentioned it you,
because I was afraid of grieving you too much, lest it should throw you
down again; for we have a respect for you still, though not so much as
to have it be the ruin of my son; but if it be as you say, we have all
wronged you very much.'
'As to the truth of what I say, madam', said I, 'I refer to your son
himself; if he will do me any justice, he must tell you the story just as
I have told it.'
Away goes the old lady to her daughters and tells them the whole
story, just as I had told it her ; and they were surprised at it, you may
be sure, as I believed they would be. One said she could never have
thought itj another said Robin was a fool; a third said she would not
believe a word of it, and she would warrant that Robin would tell the
story another way. But the old lady, who was resolved to go to the
bottom of it before I could have the least opportunity of acquainting her
son with what had passed, resolved, too, that she would talk with her
son immediately, and to that purpose sent for him, for he was gone but
to a lawyer's house in the town, and upon her sending he returned
immediately.
Upon his coming up to them, for they were all together, 'Sit down,
Robin', says the old lady; 'I must have some talk with you.' 'With
all my heart, madam', says Robin, looking very merry. 'I hope it is
about a good wife, for I am at a great loss in that affair.' 'How can
that be?' says his mother. 'Did not you say you resolved to have Mrs
Betty?' 'Ay, madam', says Robin; 'but there is one that has forbid the
banns.' « Forbid the banns ! Who can that be ?' 'Even Mrs Betty herself,
says Robin. 'How so?' says his mother. 'Have you asked her the
question, then?' 'Yes, indeed, madam', says Robin; 'I have attacked her
in form five times since she was sick, and am beaten off; the jade is so
stout she won't capitulate nor yield upon any terms, except such as I can't
effectually grant.' ' Explain yourself, says the mother, ' for I am surprised ;
I do not understand you. I hope you are not in earnest.'
'Why, madam', says he, 'the case is plain enough upon me, it explains
itself; she won't have me, she says; is not that plain enough? I think
26 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
'tis plain, and pretty rough too.' 'Well, but', says the mother, 'you talk
of conditions that you cannot grant; what does she want — a settlement?
Her jointure ought to be according to her portion; what does she bring?'
'Nay, as to fortune', says Robin, 'she is rich enough; I am satisfied in
that point; but 'tis I that am not able to come up to her terms, and she
is positive she will not have me without.'
Here the sisters put in. 'Madam', says the second sister, ''tis impossible
to be serious with him; he will never give a direct answer to anything;
you had better let him alone, and talk no more of it; you know how to
dispose of her out of his way.' Robin was a little warmed with his sister's
rudeness, but he was even with her presently. 'There are two sorts of
people, madam ', says he, turning to his mother, ' that there is no contending
with; that is, a wise body and a fool; 'tis a little hard I should engage
with both of them together.'
The younger sister then put in. 'We must be fools indeed', says she,
' in my brother's opinion, that he should make us believe he has seriously
asked Mrs Betty to marry him, and she has refused him.'
'Answer, and answer not, says Solomon' replied her brother. 'When
your brother had said that he had asked her no less than five times, and
that she positively denied him, methinks a younger sister need not question
the truth of it, when her mother did not.' 'My mother, you see, did not
understand it' says the second sister. 'There's some difference', says
Robin, 'between desiring me to explain it, and telling me she did not
believe it.'
'Well, but, son', says the old lady, 'if you ape disposed to let us into
the mystery of it, what were those hard conditions?' 'Yes, madam', says
Robin, 'I had done it before now, if the teasers here had not worried me
by way of interruption. The conditions are, that I bring my father and
you to consent to it, and without that she protests she will never see me
more upon that head; and the conditions, as I said, I suppose 1 shall
never be able to grant. I hope my warm sisters will be answered now,
and blush a little.'
This answer was surprising to them all, though less to the mother,
because of what I had said to her. As to the daughters, they stood mute
a great while; but the mother said, with some passion, 'Well, I heard
this before, but I could not believe it; but if it is so, then we have all
done Betty wrong, and she has behaved better than I expected.' 'Nay',
says the eldest sister, 'if it is so, she has acted handsomely indeed.' 'I
confess', says the mother, 'it was none of her fault, if he was enough
fool to take a fancy to her; but to give such an answer to him, shows
more respect to us than I can tell how to express; I shall value the girl
the better for it, as long as I know her.' 'But I shall not', says Robin,
'unless you will give your consent.' 'I'll consider of that awhile* says
the mother; 'I assure you, if there were not some other objections, this
conduct of hers would go a great way to bring me to consent.' 'I wish
it would go quite through with it ', says Robin ; ' if you had as much thought
about making me easy as you have about making me rich, you would soon
consent to it.'
'Why, Robin', says the mother again, 'are you really in earnest? Would
you fain have her?' 'Really, madam', says Robin, 'I think 'tis hard you
should question me again upon that head. I won't say that I will have
her. How can I resolve that point, when you see I cannot have her without
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 27
your consent? But this I will say, I am earnest, that I will never have
anybody else, if I can help it. Betty or nobody is the word, and the
question, which of the two, shall be in your breast to decide, madam,
provided only, that my good-humoured sisters here may have no vote in it.'
All this was dreadful to me, for the mother began to yield, and Robin
pressed her home in it. On the other hand, she advised with the eldest
son, and he used all the arguments in the world to persuade her to consent;
alleging his brother's passionate love for me, and my generous regard to
the family, in refusing my own advantages upon such a nice point of honour,
and a thousand such things. And as to the father, he was a man in a
hurry of public affairs and getting money, seldom at home, thoughtful of
the main chance, but left all those things to his wife.
You may easily believe, that when the plot was thus, as they thought,
broke out, it was not so difficult or so dangerous for the elder brother,
whom nobody suspected of anything, to have a freer access than before;
nay, the mother, which was just as he wished, proposed it to him to talk
with Mrs Betty. 'It may be, son', said she, 'you may see farther into
the thing than I, and see if she has been so positive as Robin says she
has been, or no.' This was as well as he could wish, and he, as it were,
yielding to talk with me at his mother's request, she brought me to him
into her own chamber, told me her son had some business with me at her
request, and then she left us together, and he shut the door after her.
He came back to me and took me in his arms, and kissed me very
tenderly ; but told me it was now come to that crisis, that I should make
myself happy or miserable as long as I lived; that if I could not comply
to his desire, we should both be ruined. Then he told me the whole story
between Robin, as he called him, and his mother, and his sisters, and himself,
as above. 'And now, dear child', says he, 'consider what it will be to
marry a gentleman of a good family, in good circumstances, and with the
consent of the whole house, and to enjoy all that the world can give you ;
and what, on the other hand, to be sunk into the dark circumstances of
a woman that has lost her reputation ; and that though I shall be a private
friend to you while I live, yet as I shall be suspected always, so you will
be afraid to see me, and I shall be afraid to own you.'
He gave me no time to reply, but went on with me thus: 'What has
happened between us, child, so long as we both agree to do so, may be
buried and forgotten. I shall always be your sincere friend, without any
inclination to nearer intimacy when you become my sister; and we shall
have all the honest part of conversation without any reproaches between
us of having done amiss. I beg of you to consider it, and do not stand
in the way of your own safety and prosperity; and to satisfy you that I
am sincere', added he, 'I here offer you five hundred pounds to make you
some amends for the freedoms I have taken with you, which we shall look
upon as some of the follies of our lives, which 'tis hoped we may repent of.'
He spoke this in so much more moving terms than it is possible for
me to express, that you may suppose as he held me above an hour and
a half in this discourse; so he answered all my objections, and fortified
his discourse with all the arguments that human wit and art could devise.
I cannot say, however, that anything he said made impression enough
upon me so as to give me any thought of the matter, till he told me at
last very plainly, that if I refused, he was sorry to add that he could never
go on with me in that station as we stood before; that, though he loved
28 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
me as well as ever, and that I was as agreeable to him, yet the sense of
virtue had not so forsaken him as to suffer him to lie with a woman that
his brother courted to make his wife; that if he took his leave of me,
with a denial from me in this affair, whatever he might do for me in the
point of support, grounded on his first engagement of maintaining me,
yet he would not have me be surprised that he was obliged to tell me
he could not allow himself to see me any more; and that, indeed, I could
not expect it of him.
I received this last part with some tokens of surprise and disorder, and
had much ado to avoid sinking down, for indeed I loved him to an extra
vagance not easy to imagine; but he perceived my disorder, and entreated
me to consider seriously of it; assured me that it was the only way to
preserve our mutual affection ; that in this station we might love as friends,
with the utmost passion, and with a love of relation untainted, free from
our own just reproaches, and free from other people's suspicions; that he
should ever acknowledge his happiness owing to me; that he would be
debtor to me as long as he lived, and would be paying that debt as long
as he had breath. Thus he wrought me up, in short, to a kind of hesitation
in the matter; having the dangers on one side represented in lively figures,
and, indeed, heightened by my imagination of being turned out to the wide
world a mere cast-off whore, for it was no less, and perhaps exposed as
such, with little to provide for myself, with no friend, no acquaintance in
the whole world, out of that town, and there I could not pretend to stay.
All this terrified me to the last degree, and he took care upon all occasions
to lay it home to me in the worst colours. On the other hand, he failed
not to set forth the easy, prosperous life which I was going to live.
He answered all that I could object from affection, and from former
engagements, with telling me the necessity that was before us of taking
other measures now; and as to his promises of marriage, the nature of
things, he said, had put an end of that, by the probability of my being
his brother's wife, before the time to which his promises all referred.
Thus, in a word, I may say, he reasoned me out of my reason; he
conquered all my arguments, and I began to see a danger that I was in,
which I had not considered of before, and that was, of being dropped by
both of them, and left alone in the world to shift for myself,
This, and his persuasion, at length prevailed with me to consent, though
with so much reluctance, that it was easy to see I should go to church
like a bear to the stake. I had some little apprehensions about me, too,
lest my new spouse, who, by the way, I had not the least affection for,
should be skilful enough to challenge me on another account, upon our
first coming to bed together; but whether he did it with design or not,
I know not, but his elder brother took care to make him very much
fuddled before he went to bed, so that I had the satisfaction of a
drunken bedfellow the first night. How he did it I know not, but I con
cluded that he certainly contrived it, that his brother might be able to
make no judgment of the difference between a maid and a married woman;
nor did he ever entertain any notions of it, or disturb his thoughts about it
I should go back a little here, to where I left off. The elder brother
having thus managed me, his next business was to manage his mother, and
he never left till he had brought her to acquiesce and be passive, even
without acquainting the father, other than by post letters j so that she con
sented to our marrying privately, leaving her to manage the father afterwards.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 2Q
Then he cajoled with his brother, and persuaded him what service he
had done him, and how he had brought his mother to consent, which,
though true, was not indeed done to serve him, but to serve himself; but
thus diligently did he cheat him, and had the thanks of a faithful friend
for shifting off his whore into his brother's arms for a wife. So naturally
do men give up honour and justice, and even Christianity, to secure
themselves.
I must now come back to brother Robin, as we always called him,
who having got his mother's consent, as above, came big with the news
to me, and told me the whole story of it, with a sincerity so visible, that
I must confess it grieved me that I must be the instrument to abuse so
honest a gentleman. But there was no remedy ; he would have me, and I
was not obliged to tell him that I was his brother's whore, though I had
no other way to put him off; so I came gradually into it, and behold
we were married.
Modesty forbids me to reveal the secrets of the marriage-bed, but
nothing could have happened more suitable to my circumstances than that,
as above, my husband was so fuddled when he came to bed that he could
not remember in the morning whether he had had any conservation with
me or no, and I was obliged to tell him he had, though, in reality, he
had not, that I might be sure he could make no inquiry about anything else.
It concerns the story in hand very little to enter into the further parti
culars of the family, or of myself, for the five years that I lived with this
husband, only to observe that I had two children by him, and that at the
end of the five years he died. He had been really a very good husband
to me, and we lived very agreeably together; but as he had not received
much from them, and had in the little time he lived acquired no great
matters, so my circumstances were not great, nor was I much mended by
the match. Indeed, I had preserved the elder brother's bonds to me to
pay me £5°°. which he offered me for my consent to marry his brother;
and this, with what I had saved of the money he formerly gave me, and
about as much more by my husband, left me a widow with about £1200
in my pocket.
My two children were, indeed, taken happily off of my hands by my
husband's father and mother, and that was all they got by Mrs Betty.
I confess I was not suitably affected with the loss of my husband ; nor
can I say that I ever loved him as I ought to have done, or was suitable
to the good usage I had from him, for he was a tender, kind, good-
humoured man as any woman could desire ; but his brother being so always
in my sight, at least while we were in the country, was a continual snare
to me; and 1 never was in bed with my husband, but I wished myself in
the arms of his brother. And though his brother never offered me the
least kindness that way after our marriage, but carried it just as a brother
ought to do, yet it was impossible for me to do so to him; in short, I
committed adultery and incest with him every day in my desires, which,
without doubt, was as effectually criminal.
Before my husband died his elder brother was married, and we being
then removed to London, were written to by the old lady to come and be
at the wedding. My husband went, but I pretended indisposition, so I
stayed behind; for, in short, I could not bear the sight of his being given
to another woman, though I knew I was never to have him myself.
I was now, as above, left loose to the world, and being still young
30 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
and handsome, as everybody said of me, and I assure you I thought
myself so, and with a tolerable fortune in my pocket, I put no small value
upon myself. I was courted by several very considerable tradesmen, and
particularly very warmly by one, a linen-draper, at whose house, after my
husband's death, I took a lodging, his sister being my acquaintance. Here
I had all the liberty and opportunity to be gay and appear in company
that I could desire, my landlord's sister being one of the maddest, gayest
things alive, and not so much mistress of her virtue as I thought at first
she had been. She brought me into a world of wild company, and even
brought home several persons, such as she liked well enough to gratify,
to see her pretty widow. Now, as fame and fools make an assembly, I
was here wonderfully caressed, had abundance of admirers, and such as
called themselves lovers ; but I found not one fair proposal among them
all. As for their common design, that I understood too well to be drawn
into any more snares of that kind. The case was altered with me ; I had
money in my pocket, and had nothing to say to them. I had been tricked
once by that cheat called love, but the game was over; I was resolved now
to be married or nothing, and to be well married or not at all.
I loved the company, indeed, of men of mirth and wit, and was often
entertained with such, as I was also with others; but I found by just
observation, that the brightest men came upon the dullest errand; that is
to say, the dullest as to what I aimed at. On the other hand, those who
came with the best proposals were the dullest and most disagreeable part
of the world. I was not averse to a tradesman; but then I would have a
tradesman, forsooth, that was something of a gentleman too; that when
my husband had a mind to cary me to the court, or to the play, he might
become a sword, and look as like a gentleman as another man; and not
like one that had the mark of his apron-strings upon his coat, or the mark
of his hat upon his periwig; that should look as if he was set on to his
sword, when his sword was put on to him, and that carried his trade in
his countenance.
Well, at last I found this amphibious creature, this land-water thing,
called a gentleman-tradesman; and as a just plague upon my folly, I was
catched in the very snare which, as I might say, I laid for myself.
This was a draper too, for though my comrade would have bargained
for me with her brother, yet when they came to the point, it was, it seems,
for a mistress, and I kept true to this notion, that a woman should never
be kept for a mistress that had money to make herself a wife.
^Thus my pride, not my principle, my money, not my virtue, kept me
honest; though, as it proved, I found I had much better have been sold
by my she-comrade to her brother, than have sold myself as I did to a
tradesman, that was a rake, gentleman, shopkeeper, and beggar, all together.
But I was hurried on (by my fancy to a gentleman) to ruin myself in
the grossest manner that ever woman did; for my new husband coming
to a lump of money at once, fell into such a profusion of expense, that
all I had, and all he had, would not have held it out above one year.
He was very fond of me for about a quarter of a year, and what I got
fry that was, that I had the pleasure of seeing a great deal of my money
spent upon myself. 'Come, my dear', says he to me one day, 'shall we
go and take a turn into the country for a week?' 'Ay, my dear', says I;
'whither would you go?' 'I care not whither', says he; 'but I have a
mind to look like quality for a weekj we'll go to Oxford', says he. 'How'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 3 1
says I, ' shall we go ? I am no horsewoman, and 'tis too far for a coach.'
'Too far!' says he; 'no place is too far for a coach-and-six. If I carry
you out, you shall travel like a duchess.' 'Hum', says I, 'my dear, 'tis
a frolic; but if you have a mind to it, I don't care.' Well, the time was
appointed ; we had a rich coach, very good horses, a coachman, postillion,
and two footmen in very good liveries; a gentleman on horseback, and a
page with a feather in his hat upon another horse. The servants all called
him my lord, and I was her honour the Countess, and thus we travelled
to Oxford, and a pleasant journey we had; for, give him his due, not a
beggar alive knew better how to be a lord than my husband. We saw
all the rarities at Oxford; talked with two or three fellows of colleges
about putting a nephew, that was left to his lordship's care, to the univer
sity, and of their being his tutors. We diverted ourselves with bantering
several other poor scholars, with the hopes of being at least his lordship's
chaplain and putting on a scarf; and thus having lived like quality indeed,
as to expense, we went away for Northampton, and, in a word, in about
twelve days' ramble came home again, to the tune of about £93 expense.
Vanity is the perfection of a fop. My husband had this excellence, that
he valued nothing of expense. As his history, you may he sure, has very
little weight in it, 'tis enough to tell you that in about two years and a
quarter he broke, got into a sponging-house, being arrested in an action
too heavy for him to give bail to, so he sent for me to come to him.
It was no surprise to me, for I had foreseen some time before that all
was going to wreck, and had been taking care to reserve something, if I
could, for myself; but when he sent for me, he behaved much better than
I expected. He told me plainly he had piayed the fool, and suffered
himself to be surprised, which he might have prevented; that now he
foresaw he could not stand it, and therefore he would have me go home,
and in the night take away everything I had in the house of any value,
and secure it; and after that, he told me that if I could get away £100
or £200 in goods out of the shop, I should do it; 'only', says he, 'let
me know nothing of it, neither what you take or whither you carry it;
for as for me', says he, 'I am resolved to get out of this house and be
gone; and if you never hear of me more, my dear', says he, 'I wish you
well ; I am only sorry for the injury I have done you. ' He said some
very handsome things to me indeed at parting; for I told you he was a
gentleman, and that was all the benefit I had of his being so ; that he used
me very handsomely, even to the last, only spent all I had, and left me
to rob the creditors for something to subsist on.
However, I did as he bade me, that you may be sure ; and having thus
taken my leave of him, I never saw him more, for he found means to
break out of the bailiff's house that night, or the next; how, I knew not,
for I could come at no knowledge of anything, more than this, that he
came home about three o'clock in the morning, caused the rest of his
goods to be removed into the Mint, and the shop to be shut up; and
having raised what money he could, he got over to France, from whence
I had one or two letters from him, and no more.
I did not see him when he came home, for he having given me such
Instructions as above, and I having made the best of my time, I had no
more business back again at the house, not knowing but I might have been
stopped there by the creditors; for a commission of bankrupt being soon
after issued, they might have stopped me by orders from the commissi-
32 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
oners. But my husband, having desperately got out from the bailiff's by
letting himself down from almost the top of the house to the top of
another building, and leaping from thence, which was almost two stories,
and which was enough indeed to have broken his neck, he came home
and got away his goods before the creditors could come to seize; that is
to say, before they could get out the commission, and be ready to send
their officers to take possession.
My husband was so civil to me, for still I say he was much of a gent
leman, that in the first letter he wrote me, he let me know where he had
pawned twenty pieces of fine holland for £ 30, which were worth above
£, 90, and enclosed me the token for the taking them up, paying the
money, which I did, and made in time above £ 100 of them, having leisure
to cut them, and sell them to private families, as opportunity offered.
However, with all this, and all that I had secured before, I found, upon
casting things up, my case was very much altered, and my fortune much
lessened; for, including the hollands and a parcel of fine muslins, which
I carried off before, and some plate and other things, I found I could
hardly muster up £, 500 ; and my condition was very odd, for though I had
no child (I had had one by my gentleman draper, but it was buried), yet
I was a widow bewitched, I had a husband and no husband, and I could
not pretend to marry again, though I knew well enough my husband
would never see England any more, if he lived fifty years. Thus, I say,
I was limited from marriage, what offer soever might be made me; and
I had not one friend to advise with in the condition I was in, at least not
one whom I could trust the secret of my circumstances to ; for if the com
missioners were to have been informed where I was, I should have been
fetched up, and all I had saved be taken away.
Upon these apprehensions, the first thing I did was to go quite out of
my knowledge, and go by another name. This I did effectually, for I
went into the Mint too, took lodgings in a very private place, dressed me
up in the habit of a widow, and called myself Mrs Flanders.
Here, however, I concealed myself, and though my new acquaintance
knew nothing of me, yet I soon got a great deal of company about me;
and whether it be that women are scarce among the people that generally
are to be found there, or that some consolations in the miseries of that
place are more requisite than on other occasions, I soon found that an
agreeable woman was exceedingly valuable among the sons of affliction
there ; and that those that could not pay half-a-crown in the pound to their
creditors, and run in debt at the sign of the Bull for their dinners, would
yet find money for a supper, if they liked the woman.
However, I kept myself safe yet, though I began, like my Lord Rochester's
mistress, that loved his company, but would not admit him further, to
have the scandal of a whore without the joy; and upon this score, tired
with the place, and with the company too, I began to think of removing.
It was indeed a subject of strange reflection to me, to see men in the
most perplexed circumstances, who were reduced some degrees below
being ruined, whose families were objects of their own terror and other
people's charity, yet while a penny lasted, nay, even beyond it, endeavour
ing to drown their sorrow in their wickedness; heaping up more guilt
upon themselves, labouring to forget former things, which now it was the
proper time to remember, making more work for repentance, and sinning
on, as a remedy for sin past.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 33
But it is none of my talent to preach ; these men were too wicked even
for me. There was something horrid and absurd in their way of sinning,
for it was all a force even upon themselves ; they did not only act against
conscience, but against nature, and nothing was more easy than to see how
sighs would interrupt their songs, and paleness and anguish sit upon their
brows, in spite of the forced smiles they put on; nay, sometimes it would
break out at their very mouths, when they had parted with their money
for a lewd treat or a wicked embrace. I have heard them, turning about,
fetch a deep sigh, and cry, 'What a dog am I! Well, Betty, my dear,
I'll drink thy health, though'; meaning the honest wife, that perhaps had
not a half-crown for herself and three or four children. The next morning
they were at their penitentials again, and perhaps the poor weeping wife
comes over to him, either brings him some account of what his creditors
are doing, and how she and the children are turned out of doors, or some
other dreadful news; and this adds to his self-reproaches; but when he
has thought and pored on it till he is almost mad, having no principles
to support him, nothing within him or above him to comfort him, but
finding it all darkness on every side, he flies to the same relief again, viz.
to drink it away, debauch it away, and falling into company of men in
just the same condition with himself, he repeats the crime, and thus he
goes every day one step onward of his way to destruction.
I was not wicked enough for such fellows as these. Yet, on the con
trary, I began to consider here very seriously what I had to do; how
things stood with me, and what course I ought to take. I knew I had
no friends, no, not one friend or relation in the world; and that little I
had left apparently wasted, which when it was gone, I saw nothing but
misery and starving was before me. Upon these considerations, I say, and
filled with horror at the place I was in, I resolved to be gone.
I had made an acquaintance with a sober, good sort of a woman, who
was a widow too, like me, but in better circumstances. Her husband had
been a captain of a ship, and having had the misfortune to be cast away
coming home from the West Indies, was so reduced by the loss, that
though he had saved his life then, it broke his heart, and killed him after
wards; and his widow being pursued by the creditors, was forced to take
shelter in the Mint. She soon made things up with the help of friends,
and was at liberty again; and finding that I rather was there to be con
cealed, than by any particular prosecutions, and finding also that I agreed
with her, or rather she with me, in a just abhorrence of the place and of
the company, she invited me to go home with her, till I could put myself
in some posture of settling in the world to my mind; withal telling me,
that it was ten to one but some good captain of a ship mtght take a
fancy to me, and court me, in that part of the town where she lived.
I accepted of her offer, and was with her half a year, and should have
been longer, but in that interval what she proposed to me happened to
herself, and she married very much to her advantage. But whose fortune
soever was upon the increase, mine seemed to be upon the wane, and I
found nothing present, except two or three boatswains, or such fellows;
but as for the commanders, they were generally of two sorts. I. Such as,
having good business, that is to say, a good ship, resolved not to marry,
but with advantage. 2. Such as, being out of employ, wanted a wife to
help them to a ship; I mean (i) a wife who, having some money, could
enable them to hold a good part of a ship themselves, so to encourage
34 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
owners to come in ; or (2) a wife who, if she had not money, had friends
who were concerned in shipping, and so could help to put the young man
into a good ship ; and neither of these was my case, so I looked like one
that was to lie on hand.
This knowledge I soon learned by experience, viz., that the state of
things was altered as to matrimony, that marriages were here the conse
quences of politic schemes, for forming interests, carrying on business,
and that love had no share, or but very little, in the matter.
That, as my sister-in-law at Colchester had said, beauty, wit, manners,
sense, good humour, good behaviour, education, virtue, piety, or any other
qualification, whether of body or mind, had no power to recommend; that
money only made a woman agreeable; that men chose mistresses indeed
by the gust of their affection, and it was requisite for a whore to be hand
some, well-shaped, have a good mien, and a graceful behaviour; but that
for a wife, no deformity would shock the fancy, no ill qualities the judg
ment; the money was the thing; the portion was neither crooked, or
monstrous, but the money was always agreeable, whatever the wife was.
On the other hand, as the market ran all on the men's side, I found the
women had lost the privilege of saying no; that it was a favour now for
a woman to have the question asked, and if any young lady had so much
arrogance as to counterfeit a negative, she never had the opportunity of
denying twice, much less of recovering that false step, and accepting what
she had seemed to decline. The men had such choice everywhere, that
the case of the women was very unhappy ; for they seemed to ply at every
door, and if the man was by great chance refused at one house, he was
sure to be received at the next
Besides this, I observed that the men made no scruple to set themselves
out and to go a-fortune-hunting, as they call it, when they had really no
fortune themselves to demand it, or merit to deserve it; and they carried
it so high, that a woman was scarce allowed to inquire after the character
or estate of the person that pretended to her. This I had an example of
in a young lady at the next house to me, and with whom I had con
tracted an intimacy; she was courted by a young captain, and though she
had near £ 2000 to her fortune, she did but inquire of some of his neigh
bours about his character, his morals, or substance, and he took occasion
at the next visit to let her know, truly, that he took it very ill, and that
he should not give her the trouble of his visits any more. I heard of it,
and I had begun my acquaintance with her. I went to see her upon it;
she entered into a close conversation with me about it, and unbosomed
herself very freely. I perceived presently that though she thought herself
very ill used, yet she had no power to resent it; that she was exceedingly
piqued she had lost him, and particularly that another of less fortune had
gained him,
I fortified her mind against such a meanness, as I called it 5 I told her,
that as low as I was in the world, I would have despised a man that
should think I ought to take him upon his own recommendation only;
also I told her, that as she had a good fortune, she had no need to stoop
to the disaster of the times; that it was enough that the men could insult
us that had but little money, but if she suffered such an affront to pass
upon her without resenting it, she would be rendered low prized upon all
occasions; that a woman can never want an opportunity to be revenged
of a man that has used her ill, and that there were ways enough to
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 35
humble such a fellow as that, or else certainly women were the most
unhappy creatures in the world.
She was very well pleased with the discourse, and told me seriously
that she would be very glad to make him sensible of her resentment, and
either to bring him on again or have the satisfaction of her revenge being
as public as possible.
I told her, that if she would take my advice, I would tell her how she
should obtain her wishes in both those things; and that I would engage
I would bring the man to her door again, and make him beg to be let in.
She smiled at that, and soon let me see, that if he came to her door, her
resentment was not so great to let him stand long there.
However, she listened very willingly to my offer of advice; so I told
her that the first thing she ought to do was a piece of justice to herself,
namely, that whereas he had reported among the ladies that he had left
her, and pretended to give the advantage of the negative to himself, she
should take care to have it well spread among the women, which she
could not fail of an opportunity to do, that she had inquired into his cir
cumstances, and found he was not the man he pretended to be. ' Let them
be told, too, madam ', said I, ' that he was not the man you expected, and
that you thought it was not safe to meddle with him? that you heard he
was of an ill temper, and that he boasted how he had used the women ill
upon many occasions, and that particularly he was debauched in his
morals', &c. The last of which, indeed, had some truth in it; but I did
not find that she seemed to like him much the worse for that part.
She came most readily into all this, and immediately she went to work
to find instruments. She had very little difficulty in the search, for telling
her story in general to a couple of her gossips, it was the chat of the
tea-table all over that part of the town, and I met with it wherever I
visited ; also, as it was known that I was acquainted with the young lady
herself, my opinion was asked very often, and I confirmed it with all the
necessary aggravations, and set out his character in the blackest colours;
and as a piece of secret intelligence, I added what the gossips knew nothing
of, viz., that I had heard he was in very bad circumstances ; that he was
under a necessity of a fortune to support his interest with the owners of
the ship he commanded ; that his own part was not paid for, and if it was
not paid quickly, his owners would put him out of the ship, and his chief
mate was likely to command it, who offered to buy that part which the
captain had promised to take,
I added, for I was heartily piqued at the rogue, as I called him, that
I had heard a rumour too, that he had a wife alive at Plymouth, and
another in the West Indies, a thing which they all knew was not very
uncommon for such kind of gentlemen.
This worked as we both desired it, for presently the young lady at the
next door, who had a father and mother that governed both her and her
fortune, was shut up, and her father forbid him the house. Also in one
place more the woman had the courage, however strange it was, to say
no; and he could try nowhere but he was reproached with his pride, and
that he pretended not to give the women leave to inquire into his character,
and the like.
By this time he began to be sensible of this mistake; and seeing all
the women on that side of the water alarmed, he went over to Ratcliff,
and got access to some of the ladies there j but though the young women
36 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
there too were, according to the fate of the day, pretty willing to be asked,
yet such was his ill luck, that his character followed him over the water;
so that though he might have had wives enough, yet it did not happen
among the women that had good fortunes, which was what he wanted.
But this was not all ; she very ingeniously managed another thing herself,
for she got a young gentleman, who was a relation, to come and visit her
two or three times a week in a very fine chariot and good liveries, and
her two agents, and I also, presently spread a report all over that this
gentleman came to court her; that he was a gentleman of a thousand
pounds a year, and that he was fallen in love with her, and that she was
going to her aunt's in the city, because it was inconvenient for the gentle
man to come to her with his coach to Rotherhithe, the streets being so
narrow and difficult.
This took immediately. The captain was laughed at in all companies,
and was ready to hang himself; he tried all the ways possible to come
at her again, and wrote the most passionate letters to her in the world;
and in short, by great application, obtained leave to wait on her again,
as he said, only to clear his reputation.
At this meeting she had her full revenge of him; for she told him, she
wondered what he took her to be, that she should admit any man to a
treaty of so much consequence as that of marriage without inquiring into
circumstances ; that if he thought she was to be huffed into wedlock, and
that she was in the same circumstances which her neighbours might be
in, viz. to take up with the first good Christian that came, he was mis
taken ; that, in a word, his character was really bad, or he was very ill
beholden to his neighbours ; and that unless he could clear up some points,
in which she had justly been prejudiced, she had no more to say to him,
but give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was not afraid to say
no, either to him, or any man else.
With that she told him what she had heard, or rather raised herself by
my means, of his character; his not having paid for the part he pretended
to own of the ship he commanded ; of the resolution of his owners to put
him out of the command, and to put his mate in his stead; and of the
scandal raised on his morals; his having been reproached with such-and-
such women, and his having a wife at Plymouth, and another in the West
Indies, and she asked him whether she had not good reason, if things
were not cleared up, to refuse him, and to insist upon having satisfation
in points so significant as they were.
He was so confounded at her discourse that he could not answer a
word, and she began to believe that all was true, by his disorder, though
she knew that she had been the raiser of those reports herself.
After some time he recovered a little, and from that time was the most
humble, modest, and importunate man alive in his courtship.
She asked him if he thought she was so at her last shift that she could
or ought to bear such treatment, and if he did not see that she did not
want those who thought it worth their while to come farther to her than
he did ; meaning the gentleman whom she had brought to visit her by way
of sham.
She brought him by these tricks to submit to all possible measures to
satisfy her, as well of his circumstances as of his behaviour. He brought her
undeniable evidence of his having paid for his part of the ship ; he brought
her certificates from his owners, that the report of their intending to remove
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 37
him from the command of the ship was false and groundless; in short,
he was quite the reverse of what he was before.
Thus I convinced her, that if the men made their advantage of our sex
in the affair of marriage, upon the supposition of there being such a
choice to be had, and of the women being so easy, it was only owing to
this, that the women wanted courage to maintain their ground, and that,
according to my Lord Rochester:
A woman's ne'er so ruined but she can
Revenge herself on her undoer, man.
After these things this young lady played her part so well, that though
she resolved to have him, and that indeed having him was the main bent
of her design, yet she made his obtaining her to be to him the most
difficult thing in the world; and this she did, not by a haughty, reserved
carriage, but by a just policy, playing back upon him his own game; for
as he pretended, by a kind of lofty carriage, to place himself above the
occasion of character, she broke with him upon that subject, and at the
same time that she made him submit to all possible inquiry after his
affairs, she apparently shut the door against his looking into her own.
It was enough to him to obtain her for a wife. As to what she had,
she told him plainly, that as he knew her circnmstances, it was but just
she should know his} and though at the same time he had only known
her circumstances by common fame, yet he had made so many protesta
tions of his passion for her, that he could ask no more but her hand to
his grand request, and the like ramble according to the custom of lovers.
In short, he left himself no room to ask any more questions about her
estate, and she took the advantage of it, for she placed part of her fortune
so in trustees, without letting him know anything of it, that it was quite
out of his reach, and made him be very well contented with the rest.
It is true she was pretty well besides, that is to say, she had about
£1400 in money, which she gave him ; and the other, after some time, she
brought to light as a perquisite to herself, which he was to accept as a
mighty favour, seeing, though it was not to be his, it might ease him in
the article of her particular expenses ; and I must add, that by this conduct,
the gentleman himself became not only more humble in his applications
to her to obtain her, but also was much the more an obliging husband
when he had her. I cannot but remind the ladies how much they place
themselves below the common station of a wife, which, if I may be allowed
not to be partial, is low enough already; I say, they place themselves
below their common station, and prepare their own mortifications, by their
submitting so to be insulted by the men beforehand, which I confess I
see no necessity of.
This relation may serve, therefore, to let the ladies see, that the advantage
is not so much on the other side as the men think it is ; and that though
it may be true, the men have but too much choice among us, and that
some women may be found who will dishonour themselves, be cheap, and
too easy to come at, yet if they will have women worth having, they may
find them as uncome-atable as ever, and that those that are otherwise have
often such deficiencies, when had, as rather recommend the ladies that are
difficult, than encourage the men to go on with their easy courtship, and
expect wives equally valuable that will come at first call.
38 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
Nothing is more certain than that the ladies always gain of the men
by keeping their ground, and letting their pretended lovers see they can
resent being slighted, and that they are not afraid of saying no. They
insult us mightily, with telling us of the number of women ; that the wars,
and the sea, and trade, and other incidents have carried the men so much
away, that there is no proportion between the numbers of the sexes ; but
I am far from granting that the number of the women is so great, or the
number of the men so small; but if they will have me tell the truth, the
disadvantage of the women is a terrible scandal upon the men, and it lies
here only; namely, that the age is so wicked, and the sex so debauched,
that, in short, the number of such men as an honest woman ought to
meddle with is small indeed, and it is but here and there that a man is
to be found who is fit for an honest woman to venture upon.
But the consequence even of that too amounts to no more than this,
that women ought to be the more nice; for how do we know the just
character of the man that makes the offer? To say that the woman should
be the more easy on this occasion, is to say we should be the forwarder
to venture because of the greatness of the danger, which is very absurd.
On the contrary, the women have ten thousand times the more reason
to be wary and backward, by how much the hazard of being betrayed is
the greater; and would the ladies act the wary part, they would discover
every cheat that offered ; for, in short, the lives of very few men now-a-
days will bear a character; and if the ladies do but make a little inquiry,
they would soon be able to distinguish the men and deliver themselves.
As for women that do not think their own safety worth their own thought,
that, impatient of their present state, run into matrimony as a horse rushes
into the battle, I can say nothing to them but this, that they are a sort
of ladies that are to be prayed for among the rest of distempered people,
and they look like people that venture their estates in a lottery where
there is a hundred thousand blanks to one prize.
No man of common-sense will value a woman the less for not giving
up herself at the first attack, or for not accepting his proposal without
inquiring into his person or character; on the contrary, he must think her
the weakest of all creatures, as the rate of men now goes; in short, he
must have a very contemptible opinion of her capacities, that having but
one cast for her life, shall cast that life away at once, and make matrimony,
like death, be a leap in the dark.
I would fain have the conduct of my sex a little regulated in this
particular, which is the same thing in which, of all the parts of life, I
think at this time we suffer most in : 'tis nothing but lack of courage, the
fear of not being married at all, and of that frightful state of life called an
old maid. This, I say, is the woman's snare; but would the ladies once
but get above that fear, and manage rightly, they would more certainly
avoid it by standing their ground, in a case so absolutely necessary to
their felicity, than by exposing themselves as they do ; and if they did not
marry so soon, they would make themselves amends by marrying safer.
She is always married too soon who gets a bad husband, and she is
never married too late who gets a good one ; in a word, there is no woman,
deformity or lost reputation excepted, but if she manages well may be
married safely one time or other; but if she precipitates herself, it is ten
thousand to one but she is undone.
But I come now to my own case, in which there was at this time no
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 39
little nicety. The circumstances I was in made the offer of a good husband
the most necessary thing in the world to me, but I found soon that to
be made cheap and easy was not the way. It soon began to be found
that the widow had no fortune, and to say this was to say all that was
ill of me, being well-bred, handsome, witty, modest, and agreeable; all
which I had allowed to my character, whether justly or no is not to the
purpose; I say, all these would not do without the dross. In short, the
widow, they said, had no money.
I resolved, therefore, that it was necessary to change my station, and
make a new appearance in some other place, and even to pass by another
name if I found occasion.
I communicated my thoughts to my intimate friend, the captain's lady,
whom I had so faithfully served in her case with the captain, and who
was as ready to serve me in the same kind as I could desire. I made
no scruple to lay my circumstances open to her; my stock was but low,
for I had made but about £540 at the close of my last affair, and I had
wasted some of that; however, I had about £460 left, a great many very
rich clothes, a gold watch, and some jewels, though of no extraordinary
value, and about £30 or £40 left in linen not disposed of.
My dear and faithful friend, the captain's wife, was so sensible of the
service I had done her in the affair above, that she was not only a steady
friend to me, but, knowing my circumstances, she frequently made me
presents as money came into her hands, such as fully amounted to a
maintenance, so that I spent none of my own ; and at last she made this
unhappy proposal to me, viz., that as we had observed, as above, how
the men made no scruple to set themselves out as persons meriting a
woman of fortune of their own, it was but just to deal with them in their
own way, and, if it was possible, to deceive the deceiver,
The captain's lady, in short, put this project into my head, and told
me if I would be ruled by her I should certainly get a husband of fortune,
without leaving him any room to reproach me with want of my own. I
told her that I would give up myself wholly to her directions, and that
I would have neither tongue to speak or feet to step in that affair but
as she should direct me, depending that she would extricate me out of
every difficulty that she brought me into, which she said she would
answer for.
The first step she put me upon was to call her cousin, and go to a
relation's house of hers in the country, where she directed me, and where
she brought her husband to visit me; and calling me cousin, she worked
matters so about, that her husband and she together invited me most
passionately to come to town and live with them, for they now lived in
a quite different place from where they were before. In the next place,
she tells her husband that I had at least £1500 fortune, and that I was
like to have a great deal more.
It was enough to tell her husband this; there needed nothing on my
side. I was but to sit still and wait the event, for it presently went all
over the neighbourhood that the young widow at Captain 's was a
fortune, that she had at least £1500, and perhaps a great deal more, and
that the captain said so ; and if the captain was asked at any time about
me, he made no scruple to affirm it, though he knew not one word of
the matter other than that his wife had told him so ; and in this he
thought no harm, for he really believed it to be so. With the reputation
4O THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
of this fortune, I presently found myself blessed with admirers enough (and
that I had my choice of men), as they said they were, which, by the
way, confirms what I was saying before. This being my case, I, who had
a subtle game to play, had nothing now to do but to single out from
them all the properest man that might be for my purpose; that is to say,
the man who was most likely to depend upon the hearsay of fortune,
and not inquire too far into the particulars; and unless I did this I did
nothing, for my case would not bear much inquiry.
I picked out my man without much difficulty, by the judgment I made
of his way of courting me. I had let him run on with his protestations
that he loved me above all the world; that if I would make him happy,
that was enough ; all which I knew was upon supposition that I was very
rich, though I never told him a word of it myself.
This was my man; but I was to try him to the bottom; and indeed in
that consisted my safety, for if he balked, I knew I was undone, as surely
as he was undone if he took me; and if I did not make some scruple
about his fortune, it was the way to lead him to raise some about mine;
and first, therefore, I pretended on all occasions to doubt his sincerity;
and told him perhaps he only courted me for my fortune. He stopped
my mouth in that part with the thunder of his protestations as above, but
still I pretended to doubt.
One morning he pulls off his diamond ring, and writes upon the glass
of the sash in my chamber this line:
You I love, and you alone.
I read it, and asked him to lend me the ring, with which I wrote under
it, thus:
And so in love says every one.
He takes his ring again, and writes another line thus:
Virtue alone is an estate.
I borrowed it again, and I wrote under it:
But money's virtue, gold is fate.
He coloured as red as fire to see me turn so quick upon him, and in a
kind of rage told me he would conquer me, and wrote again thus :
I scorn your gold, and yet I love.
I ventured all upon the last cast of poetry, as you'll see, for I wrote boldly
under his last:
I'm poor; let's see how kind you'll prove.
This was a sad truth to me; whether he believed me or no I could not
tell ; I supposed then that he did not. However, he flew to me, took me
in his arms, and, kissing me very eagerly, and with the greatest passion
imaginable, he held me fast till he called for a pen and ink, and told me
he could not wait the tedious writing on a glass, but pulling out a piece
of paper, he began and wrote again:
Be mine with all your poverty.
I took his pen, and followed immediately, thus:
Yet secretly you hope I li«.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 41
He told me that was unkind, because it was not just, and that I put him
upon contradicting me, which did not consist with good manners, and,
therefore, since I had insensibly drawn him into this poetical scribble, he
begged I would not oblige him to break it off. So he writes again:
Let love alone be our debate.
I wrote again:
She loves enough that does not hate.
This he took for a favour, and so laid down the cudgels, that is to say,
the pen ; I say, he took it for a favour, and a mighty one it was, if he
had known all. However, he took it as I meant it, that is, to let him
think I was inclined to go on with him, as indeed I had reason to do,
for he was the best-humoured merry sort of a fellow that I ever met with ;
and I often reflected how doubly criminal it was to deceive such a man;
but that necessity, which pressed me to a settlement suitable to my con
dition, was my authority for it ; and certainly his affection to me, and the
goodness of his temper, however they might argue against using him ill,
yet they strongly argued to me that he would better take the disappointment
than some fiery-tempered wretch, who might have nothing to recommend
him but those passions which would serve only to make a woman miserable.
Besides, though I had jested with him (as he supposed it) so often about
my poverty, yet when he found it to be true, he had foreclosed all manner
of objection, seeing, whether he was in jest or in earnest, he had declared
he took me without any regard to my portion, and, whether I was in jest
or in earnest, I had declared myself to be very poor; so that, in a word,
I had him fast both ways; and though he might say afterwards he was
cheated, yet he could never say that I had cheated him.
He pursued me close after this, and as I saw there was no need to fear
losing him, I played the indifferent part with him longer than prudence
might otherwise have dictated to me; but I considered how much this
caution and indifference would give me the advantage over him when I
should come to own my circumstances to him ; and I managed it the more
warily, because I found he inferred from thence that I either had the more
money or the more judgment, and would not venture at all.
I took the freedom one day to tell him that it was true I had received
the compliment of a lover from him, namely, that he would take me without
inquiring into my fortune, and I would make him a suitable return in this,
viz., that I would make as little inquiry into his as consisted with reason,
but I hoped he would allow me to ask some questions, which he should
answer or not as he thought fit; one of these questions related to our
manner of living, and the place where, because I had heard he had a great
plantation in Virginia, and I told him I did not care to be transported.
He began from this discourse to let me voluntarily into all his affairs,
and to tell me in a frank, open way all his circumstances, by which I
found he was very well to pass in the world; but that great part of his
estate consisted of three plantations, which he had in Virginia, which
brought him in a very good income of about £300 a year, but that if he
was to live upon them, would bring him in four times as much. 'Very
well', thought I; 'you shall carry me thither, then, as soon as you please,
though I won't tell you so beforehand.'
I jested with him about the figure he would make in Virginia; but I
42 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
found he would do anything I desired, so I turned my tale. I told him
I had good reason not to desire to go there to live; because if his plantations
were worth so much there, I had not a fortune suitable to a gentleman of
£1200 a year, as he said his estate would be.
He replied, he did not ask what my fortune was j he had told me from
the beginning he would not, and he would be as good as 'his word; but
whatever it was, he assured me he would never desire me to go to Virginia
with him, or go thither himself without me, unless I made it my choice.
All this, you may be sure, was as I wished, and indeed nothing could
have happened more perfectly agreeable. I carried it on as far as this
with a sort of indifferency that he often wondered at, and I mention it
the rather to intimate again to the ladies that nothing but want of courage
for such an indifferency makes our sex so cheap, and prepares them to be
ill used as they are; would they venture the loss of a pretending fop now
and then, who carries it high upon the point of his own merit, they would
certainly be slighted less and courted more. Had I discovered really what
my great fortune was, and that in all I had not full £500 when he expected
£1500, yet I hooked him so fast, and played him so long, that I was
satisfied he would have had me in my worst circumstances ; and indeed it
was less a surprise to him when he learnt the truth than it would have
been, because having not the least blame to lay on me, who had carried
it with an air of indifference to the last, he could not say one word, except
that indeed he thought it had been more, but that, if it had been less, he
did not repent his bargain; only that he should not be able to maintain
me so well as he intended.
In short, we were married, and very happily married on my side, I assure
you, as to the man; for he was the best-humoured man that ever woman
had, but his circumstances were not so good as I imagined, as, on th«
other hand, he had not bettered himself so much as he expected.
When we were married, I was shrewdly put to it to bring him that little
stock I had, and to let him see it was no more; but there was a necessity
for it, so I took my opportunity one day when we were alone, to enter
into a short dialogue with him about it. 'My dear', said I, 'we have
been married a fortnight ; is it not time to let you know whether you have
got a wife with something or with nothing?' 'Your own time for that,
my dear', says he; 'I am satisfied I have got the wife I lovej I have not
troubled you much', says he, 'with my inquiry after it.'
•That's true', said I, 'but I have a great difficulty about it, which I
scarce know how to manage.' 'What's that, my dear?' says he. 'Why',
says I, ''tis a little hard upon me, and 'tis harder upon you; I am told
that Captain ' (meaning my friend's husband) 'has told you I had a
great deal more than ever I pretended to have, and I am sure I never
employed him so to do.'
'Well', says he, 'Captain may have told me so, but what then? If
you have not so much, that may lie at his door, but you never told me
what you had, so I have no reason to blame you if you have nothing at all.'
'That is so just1, said I, 'and so generous that it makes my having but
a little a double affliction to me.'
'The less you have, my dear', says he, 'the worse for us both; but I
hope your affliction is not caused for fear I should be unkind to you for
want of a portion. No, no, if you have nothing, tell me plainly; I may
perhaps tell the captain he has cheated me, but I can never say you have.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 43
for did not you give it under your hand that you was poor? and so I
ought to expect you to be.'
'Well', said I, ' my dear, I am glad I have not been concerned in deceiving
you before marriage. If I deceive you since, 'tis ne'er the worse; that I
am poor, 'tis too true, but not so poor as to have nothing neither ' ; so I
pulled out some bank bills and gave him about £160. 'There is something,
my dear', says I, 'and not quite all neither.'
I had brought him so near to expecting nothing, by what I had said
before, that the money, though the sum was small in itself, was doubly
welcome} he owned it was more than he looked for, and that he did not
question by my discourse to him, but that my fine clothes, gold watch,
and a diamond ring or two, had been all my fortune.
I let him please himself with that £160 two or three days, and then
having been abroad that day, and as if I had been to fetch it, I brought
him £100 more home in gold, and told him there was a little more portion
for him; and, in short, in about a week more, I brought him £180 more,
and about £60 in linen, which I made him believe I had been obliged to
take with the £100 which I gave him in gold, as a composition for a debt
of £660, being little more than five shillings in the pound, and over
valued too.
'And now, my dear', says I to him, 'I am very sorry to tell you that
I have given you my whole fortune.' I added that if the person who had
my £600 had not abused me, I had been worth £1000 to him, but that,
as it was, I had been faithful, and reserved nothing to myself, but if it
had been more he should have had it.
He was so obliged by the manner, and so pleased with the sum, for he
had been in a terrible fright lest it had been nothing at all, that he accepted
it very thankfully. And thus I got over the fraud of passing for a fortune
without money, and cheating a man into marrying me on pretence of it;
which, by the way, I take to be one of the most dangerous steps a woman
can take, and in which she runs the most hazards of being ill-used afterwards.
My husband, to give him his due, was a man of infinite good nature,
but he was no fool; and finding his income not suited to the manner of
living which he had intended, if I had brought him what he expected,
and being under a disappointment in his return of his plantations in Virginia,
he discovered many times his inclination of going over to Virginia, to live
upon his own; and often would b« magnifying the way of living there,
how cheap, how plentiful, how pleasant, and the like.
I began presently to understand his meaning, and I took him up very
plainly one morning, and told him that I did so; that I found his estate
turned to no account at this distance, compared to what it would do if
he lived upon the spot, and that I found he had a mind to go and live
there; that I was sensible he had been disappointed in a wife, and that
finding his expectations not answered that way, I could do no less, to make
him amends, than tell him that I was very willing to go to Virginia with
him and live there.
He said a thousand kind things to me upon the subject of my making
such a proposal to him. He told me, that though he was disappointed in
his expectations of a fortune, he was not disappointed in a wife, and that
I was all to him that a wife could be, but that this offer was so kind,
that it was more than he could express,
To bring the story short, we agreed to go. He told me that he had a
44 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
very good house there, well furnished ; that his mother lived in it, and one
sister, which was all the relations he had ; that as soon as he came there,
they would remove to another house, which was her own for life, and his
after her decease; so that I should have all the house to myself; and I
found it all exactly as he said.
We put on board the ship which we went in a large quantity of good
furniture for our house, with stores of linen and other necessaries, and a
good cargo for sale, and away we went.
To give an account of the manner of our voyage, which was long and
full of dangers, is out of my way; I kept no journal, neither did my
husband. All that I can say is, that after a terrible passage, frighted twice
with dreadful storms, and once with what was still more terrible, I mean
a pirate, who came on board and took away almost all our provisions;
and which would have been beyond all to me, they had once taken my
husband, but by entreaties were prevailed with to leave him; I say, after
all these terrible things, we arrived in York River in Virginia, and coming
to our plantation, we were received with all the tenderness and affection,
by my husband's mother, that could be expressed.
We lived here all together, my mother-in-law, at my entreaty, continuing
in the house, for she was too kind a mother to be parted with ; my husband
likewise continued the same at first, and I thought myself the happiest
creature alive, when an odd and surprising event put an end to all that
felicity in a moment, and rendered my condition the most uncomfortable
in the world.
My mother was a mighty cheerful, good-humoured old woman— I may
call her so, for her son was above thirty; I say she was very pleasant,
good company, and used to entertain me, in particular, with abundance of
stories to divert me, as well of the country we were in as of the people.
Among the rest, she often told me how the greatest part of the inhabitants
of that colony came thither in very indifferent circumstances from England ;
that, generally speaking, they were of two sorts ; either, first, such as were
brought over by masters of ships to be sold as servants; or, second, such
as are transported after having been found guilty of crimes punishable
with death.
'When they come here', says she, 'we make no difference ; the planters
buy them, and they work together in the field, till their time is out.
When 'tis expired ', said she> ' they have encouragement given them to
plant for themselves; for they have a certain number of acres of land
allotted them by the country, and they go to work to clear and cure the
land, and then to plant it with tobacco and corn for their own use; and
as the merchants will trust them with tools and necessaries, upon the credit
of their crop before it is grown, so they again plant every year a little
more than the year before, and so buy whatever they want with the crop
that is before them. Hence, child', says she, 'many a Newgate-bird
becomes a great man, and we have', continued she, 'several justices of the
peace, officers of the trained bands, and magistrates of the towns they live
in, that have been burnt in the hand.'
She was going on with that part of the story, when her own part in
it interrupted her, and with a great deal of good-humoured confidence, she
told me she was one of the second sort of inhabitants herself; that she
came away openly, having ventured too far in a particular case, so that
she was become a criminal; 'And here's the mark of it, child' says she,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 45
and showed me a very fine white arm and hand, but branded in the inside
of the hand, as in such cases it must be.
This story was very moving to me, but my mother, smiling, said, ' You
need not think such a thing strange, daughter, for some of the best men
in the country are burnt in the hand, and they are not ashamed to own
it. There's Major ', says she, 'he was an eminent pickpocket; there's
Justice Ba r, was a shoplifter, and both of them were burnt in the hand ;
and I could name you several such as they are.'
We had frequent discourses of this kind, and abundance of instances she
gave me of the like. After some time, as she was telling some stories of
one that was transported but a few weeks ago, I began in an intimate
kind of way to ask her to tell me something of her own story, which she
did with the utmost plainness and sincerity; how she had fallen into very
ill company in London in her young days, occasioned by her mother
sending her frequently to carry victuals to a kinswoman of hers who was
a prisoner in Newgate, in a miserable starving condition, who was after
wards condemned to die, but having got respite by pleading her belly,
perished afterwards in the prison.
Here my mother-in-law ran out in a long account of the wicked practices
in that dreadful place. 'And, child', says my mother, 'perhaps you may
know little of it, or, it may be, have heard nothing about it; but depend
upon it', says she, 'we all know here that there are more thieves and
rogues made by that one prison of Newgate than by all the clubs and
societies of villains in the nation; 'tis that cursed place', says my mother,
' that half peoples this colony. '
Here she went on with her own story so long, and in so particular a
manner, that I began to be very uneasy; but coming to one particular that
required telling her name, I thought I should have sunk down in the place.
She perceived I was out of order, and asked me if I was not well, and
what ailed me. I told her I was so affected with the melancholy story
she had told that it had overcome me, and I begged of her to talk no
more of it. ' Why, my dear ', says she, very kindly, ' what need these things
trouble you? These passages were long before your time, and they give
me no trouble at all now; nay, I look back on them with a particular
satisfaction, as they have been a means to bring me to this place.' Then
she went on to tell me how she fell into a good family, where behaving
herself well, and her mistress dying, her master married her, by whom she
had my husband and his sister, and that by her diligence and good
management after her husband's death, she had improved the plantations
to such a degree as they then were, so that most of the estate was of
her getting, not of her husband's, for she had been a widow upwards of
sixteen years.
I heard this part of the story with very little attention, because I wanted
much to retire and give vent to my passions ; and let any one judge what
must be the anguish of my mind when I came to reflect that this was
certainly no more or less than my own mother, and that I had now had
two children, and was big with another by my own brother, and lay with
him still every night.
I was now the most unhappy of all women in the world. Oh! had the
story never been told me, all had been well ; it had been no crime to have
lain with my husband, if I had known nothing of it.
I had now such a load on my mind that it kept me perpetually waking;
46 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
to reveal it I could not find would be to any purpose, and yet to conceal
it would be next to impossible; nay, I did not doubt but I should talk
in my sleep, and tell my husband of it whether I would or no. If I
discovered it, the least thing I could expect was to lose my husband, for
he was too nice and too honest a man to have continued my husband
after he had known I had been his sister; so that I was perplexed to the
last degree.
I leave it to any man to judge what difficulties presented to my view.
I was away from my native country, at a distance prodigious, and the
return to me impassable. I lived very well, but in a circumstance insuffer
able in itself. If I had discovered myself to my mother, it might be
difficult to convince her of the particulars, and I had no way to prove them.
On the other hand, if she had questioned or doubted me, I had been
undone, for the bare suggestion would have immediately separated me from
my husband, without gaining my mother or him; so that between the
surprise on one hand, and the uncertainty on the other, I had been sure
to be undone.
In the meantime, as I was but too sure of the fact, I lived therefore in
open avowed incest and whoredom, and all under the appearance of an
honest wife; and though I was not much touched with the crime of it,
yet the action had something in it shocking to nature, and made my
husband even nauseous to me. However, upon the most sedate considera
tion, I resolved that it was absolutely necessary to conceal it all, and not
make the least discovery of it either to mother or husband; and thus I
lived with the greatest pressure imaginable for three years more.
During this time my mother used to be frequently telling me old stories
of her former adventures, which, however, were no ways pleasant to me;
for by it, though she did not tell it me in plain terms, yet I could under
stand, joined with what I heard myself, of my first tutors, that in her
younger days she had been whore and thief j but I verily believe she had
lived to repent sincerely of both, and that she was then a very pious,
sober, and religious woman.
Well, let her life have been what it would then, it was certain that my
life was very uneasy to me; for I lived, as I have said, but in the worst
sort of whoredom, and as I could expect no good of it, so really no good
issue came of it, and all my seeming prosperity wore off, and ended in
misery and destruction. It was some time, indeed, before it came to this,
for everything went wrong with us afterwards, and that which was worse,
my husband grew strangely altered, froward, jealous, and unkind, and I
was as impatient of bearing his carriage, as the carriage was unreasonable
and unjust. These things proceeded so far, and we came at last to be in
such ill terms with one another, that I claimed a promise of him, which
he entered willingly into with me when I consented to come from England
with him, viz., that if I did not like to live there, I should come away to
England again when I pleased, giving him a year's warning to settle his
affairs.
I say, I now claimed this promise of him, and I must confess I did it
not in the most obliging terms that could be neither; but I insisted that
he treated me ill, that I was remote from my friends, and could do myself
no justice, and that he was jealous without cause, my conversation having
been unblamable, and he having no pretence for it, and that to remove to
England would take away all occasion from him.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 47
I insisted so peremptorily upon it, that he could not avoid coming to a
point, either to keep his word with me or to break it; and this, notwith
standing he used all the skill he was master of, and employed his mother
and other agents to prevail with me to alter my resolutions; indeed, the
bottom of the thing lay at my heart, and that made all his endeavours
fruitless, for my heart waa alienated from him. I loathed the thoughts of
bedding with him, and used a thousand pretences of illness and humour
to prevent his touching me, fearing nothing more than to be with child
again, which to be sure would have prevented, or at least delayed, my
going over to England.
However, at last I put him so out of humour that he took up a rash
and fatal resolution, that, in short, I should not go to England 5 that though
he had promised me, yet it was an unreasonable thing; that it would be
ruinous to his affairs, would unhinge his whole family, and be next to an
undoing him in the world ; that therefore I ought not to desire it of him,
and that no wife in the world that valued her family and her husband's
prosperity, would insist upon such a thing.
This plunged me again, for when I considered the thing calmly, and
took my husband as he really was, a diligent, careful man in the main,
and that he knew nothing of the dreadful circumstances that he was in, I
could not but confess to myself that my proposal was very unreasonable,
and what no wife that had the good of her family at heart would have
desired.
But my discontents were of another nature ; I looked upon him no longer
as a husband, but as a near relation, the son of my own mother, and I
resolved somehow or other to be clear of him, but which way I did
not know.
It is said by the ill-natured world, of our sex, that if we are set on a
thing, it is impossible to turn us from our resolutions ; in short, I never
ceased poring upon the means to bring to pass my voyage, and came that
length with my husband at last, as to propose going without him. This
provoked him to the last degree, and he called me not only an unkind
wife, but an unnatural mother, and asked me how I could entertain such
a thought without horror, as that of leaving my two children (for one was
dead) without a mother, and never to see them more. It was true, had
things been right, I should not have done it, but now, it was my real
desire never to see them, or him either, any more; and as to the charge
of unnatural, I could easily answer it to myself, while I knew that the
whole relation was unnatural in the highest degree.
However, there was no bringing my husband to anything; he would
neither go with me, nor let me go without him, and it was out of my
power to stir without his consent, as any one that is acquainted with the
constitution of that country knows very well.
We had many family quarrels about it, and they began to grow up to
a dangerous height; for as I was quite estranged from him in affection, so
I took no heed to my words, but sometimes gave him language that was
provoking; in short, I strove all I could to bring him to a parting with
me, which was what above all things I desired most.
He took my carriage very ill, and indeed he might well do so, for at
last I refused to bed with him, and carrying on the breach upon all
occasions to extremity, he told me once he thought I was mad, and if I
did not alter my conduct, he would put me under cure; that is to say.
48 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
into a madhouse. I told him he should find I was far enough from mad,
and that it was not in his power, or any other villain's, to murder me. I
confess at the same time I was heartily frighted at his thoughts of putting
me into a madhouse, which would at once have destroyed all the pos
sibility of bringing the truth out; for that then no one would have given
credit to a word of it.
This therefore brought me to a resolution, whatever came of it, to lay
open my whole case; but which way to do it, or to whom, was an inex
tricable difficulty, when another quarrel with my husband happened, which
came up to such an extreme as almost pushed me on to tell it him all to
his face; but though I kept it in so as not to come to the particulars, I
spoke so much as put him into the utmost confusion, and in the end
brought out the whole story.
He began with a calm expostulation upon my being so resolute to go
to England ; I defended it, and one hard word bringing on another, as is
usual in all family strife, he told me I did not treat him as if he was my
husband, or talk of my children as if I was a mother } and, in short, that
I did not deserve to be used as a wife; that he had used all the fair
means possible with me; that he had argued with all the kindness and
calmness that a husband or a Christian ought to do, and that I made him
such a vile return, that I treated him rather like a dog than a man, and
rather like the most contemptible stranger than a husband; that he was
very loth to use violence with me, but that, in short, he saw a necessity
of it now, and that for the future he should be obliged to take such
measures as should reduce me to my duty.
My blood was now fired to the utmost, and nothing could appear more
provoked. I told him, for his fair means and his foul, they were equally
contemned by me; that for my going to England, I was resolved on it,
come what would; and that as to treating him not like a husband, and
not showing myself a mother to my children, there might be something
more in it than he understood at present; but I thought fit to tell him
thus much, that he neither was my lawful husband, nor they lawful
children, and that I had reason to regard neither of them more than I did.
I confess I was moved to pity him when I spoke it, for he turned pale
as death, and stood mute as one thunderstruck, and once or twice I thought
he would have fainted; in short, it put him in a fit something like an
apoplex; he trembled, a sweat or dew ran off his face, and yet he was
cold as a clod, so that I was forced to fetch something to keep life in
him. When he recovered of that, he grew sick and vomited, and in a
little after was put to bed, and the next morning was in a violent fever.
However, it went off again, and he recovered, though but slowly, and
when he came to be a little better, he told me I had given him a mortal
wound with my tongue, and he had only one thing to ask before he
desired an explanation. I interrupted him, and told him I was sorry
I had gone so far, since I saw what disorder it put him into, but I
desired him not to talk to me of explanations, for that would but make
things worse.
This heightened his impatience, and, indeed, perplexed him beyond all
bearing; for now he began to suspect that there was some mystery yet
unfolded, but could not make the least guess at it ; all that ran in his brain
was, that I had another husband alive, but I assured him there was not
the least of that in it; indeed, as to my other husband, he was effectually
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 49
dead to me, and had told me I should look on him as such, so I had not
the least uneasiness ou that score.
But now I found the thing too far gone to conceal it much longer, and
my husband himself gave me an opportunity to ease myself of the secret,
much to my satisfaction. He had laboured with me three or four weeks,
but to no purpose, only to tell him whether I had spoken those words
only to put him in a passion, or whether there was anything of truth in
the bottom of them. But I continued inflexible, and would explain nothing,
unless he would first consent to my going to England, which he would
never do, he said, while he lived ; on the other hand, I said it was in my
power to make him willing when I pleased — nay, to make him entreat
me to go; and this increased his curiosity, and made him importunate to
the highest degree.
At length he tells all this story to his mother, and sets her upon me
to get it out of me, and she used her utmost skill indeed; but I put her
to a full stop at once, by telling her that the mystery of the whole matter
lay in herself; that it was my respect to her had made me conceal it; and
that, in short, I could go no farther, and therefore conjured her not to
insist upon it.
She was struck dumb at this suggestion, and could not tell what to say
or to think ; but laying aside the supposition as a policy of mine, continued
her importunity on account of her son, and, if possible, to make up the
breach between us two. As to that, I told her that it was indeed a good
design in her, but that it was impossible to be donej and that if I should
reveal to her the truth of what she desired, she would grant it to be
impossible, and cease to desire it. At last I seemed to be prevailed on
by her importunity, and told her I dare trust her with a secret of the
greatest importance, and she would soon see that this was so, and that I
would consent to lodge it in her breast, if she would engage solemnly not
to acquaint her son with it without my consent.
She was long in promising this part, but rather than not come at the
main secret she agreed to that too, and after a great many other prelimi
naries, I began, and told her the whole story. First I told her how much
she was concerned in all the unhappy breach which had happened between
her son and me, by telling me her own story and her Lonaon name ; and
that the surprise she saw I was in was upon that occasion. Then I told
her my own story, and my name, and assured her, by such other tokens
as she could not deny, that I was no other, nor more or less, than her
own child, her daughter, born of her body in Newgate; the same that
had saved her from the gallows by being in her belly, and that she left
in such-and-such hands when she was transported.
It is impossible to express the astonishment she was In 5 she was not
inclined to believe the story, or to remember the particulars; for she
immediately foresaw the confusion that must follow in the family upon it;
but everything concurred so exactly with the stories she had told me of
herself, and which, if she had not told me, she would perhaps have been
content to have denied, that she had stopped her own mouth, and she
had nothing to do but take me about the neck and kiss me, and cry most
vehemently over me, without speaking one word for a long time together.
At last she broke out: 'Unhappy child!' says she, ' what miserable chance
could bring thee hither? and m the arms of my son, too! Dreadful girl!',
says she, 'why, we are all undone 1 Married to thy own brother! Three
50 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
children, and two alive, all of the same flesh and blood! My son and
my daughter lying together as husband and wife ! — all confusion and
distraction! Miserable family! What will become of us? What is to be
said? What is to be done?' And thus she ran on a great while; nor
had I any power to speak, or if I had, did I know what to say, for every
word wounded me to the soul. With this kind of amazement we parted
for the first time, though my mother was more surprised than I was,
because it was more news to her than to me. However, she promised
again that she would say nothing of it to her son till we had talked of
it again.
It was not long, you may be sure, before we had a second conference
upon the same subject; when, as if she had been willing to forget the
story she had told me of herself, or to suppose that I had forgot some
of the particular, she began to tell them with alterations and omissions;
but I refreshed her memory in many things which I supposed she had
forgot, and then came in so opportunely with the whole history, that it
was impossible for her to go from it ; and then she fell into her rhapsodies
again, and exclamations at the severity of her misfortunes. When these
things were a little over with her, we fell into a close debate about what
should be first done before we gave an account of the matter to my
husband. But to what purpose could be all our consultations? We could
neither of us see our way through it, or how it could be safe to open
such a scene to him. It was impossible to make any judgment, or give
any guess at what temper he would receive it in, or what measures he
would take upon it; and if he should have so little government of himself
as to make it public, we easily foresaw that it would be the ruin of the
whole family; and if at last he should take the advantage the law would
give him, he might put me away with disdain, and leave me to sue for
the little portion that I had, and perhaps waste it all in the suit, and
then be a beggar; and thus I should see him, perhaps, in the arms of
another wife in a few months, and be myself the most miserable creature alive.
My mother was as sensible of this as I; and, upon the whole, we knew
not what to do. After some time we came to more sober resolutions,
but then it was with this misfortune too, that my mother's opinion and
mine were quite different from one another, and indeed inconsistent with
one another; for my mother's opinion was, that I should bury the whole
thing entirely, and continue to live with him as my husband, till some
other event should make the discovery of it more convenient; and that in
the meantime she would endeavour to reconcile us together again, and
restore our mutual comfort and family peace; that we might lie as we
used to do together, and so let the whole matter remain a secret as close
as death; 'for, child', says she, 'we are both undone if it comes out.'
To encourage me to this, she promised to make me easy in my circum
stances, and to leave me what she could at her death, secured for me
separately from my husband; so that if it should come out afterwards, I
should be able to stand on my own feet, and procure justice too from him.
This proposal did not agree with my judgment, though it was very fair
and kind in my mother ; but my thoughts ran quite another way.
As to keeping the thing in our own breasts, and letting it all remain
as it was, I told her it was impossible-, and I asked her now she could
think I could bear the thoughts of lying with my own brother. In the
next place I told her that her being alive was the only support of the
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 5 1
discovery, and that while she owned me for her child, and saw reason to
be satisfied that I was so, nobody else would doubt it; but that if she
should die before the discovery, I should be taken for an impudent creature
that had forged such a thing to go away from my husband, or should be
counted crazed and distracted. Then I told her how he had threatened
already to put me into a madhouse, and what concern I had been in
about it, and how that was the thing that drove me to the necessity of
discovering it to her as I had done.
From all which I told her, that I had, on the most serious reflections I
was able to make in the case, come to this resolution, which I hoped she
would like, as a medium between both, viz., that she should use her
endeavours with her son to give me leave to go for England, as I had
desired, and to furnish me with a sufficient sum of money, either in goods
along with me, or in bills for my support there, all along suggesting that
he might one time or other think it proper to come over to me.
That when I was gone, she should then, in cold blood, discover the
case to him gradually, and as her own discretion, should guide ; so that
he might not be surprised with it, and fly out into any passions and
excesses; and that she should concern herself to prevent his slighting the
children, or marrying again, unless he had a certain account of my being dead.
This was my scheme, and my reasons were good ; I was really alienated
from him in the consequence of these things ; indeed I mortally hated him
as a husband ; and it was impossible to remove that riveted aversion I
had to him; at the same time, it being an unlawful, incestuous living,
added to that aversion, and everything added to make cohabiting with him
the most nauseous thing to me in the world ; and I think verily it was
come to such a height, that I could almost as willingly have embraced a
dog, as have let him offer anything of that kind to me, for which reason
I could not bear the thoughts of coming between the sheets with him. J
cannot say that I was right in carrying it such a length, while at the
same time I did not resolve to discover the thing to him ; but I am giving
an account of what was^ not of what oughLor plight. nflLJ^ -jy-
In this directly opposite opinion to one another my mother and I conti
nued a long time, and it was impossible to reconcile our judgments; many
disputes we had about it, but we could never either of us yield our own,
or bring over the other.
I insisted on my aversion to lying with my own brother, and she
insisted upon its being impossible to bring him to consent to my going
to England ; and in this uncertainty we continued, not differing so as to
quarrel, or anything like it, but so as not to be able to resolve what we
should do to make up that terrible breach.
At last I resolved on a desperate course, and told my mother my
resolution, viz., that, in short, I would tell him of it myself. My mother
was frighted to the last degree at the very thoughts of it; but I bid her
be easy, told her I would do it gradually and softly, and with all the art
and good humour I was mistress of, and time it also as well as I could,
taking him in good humour too. I told her I did not question but if I
could be hypocrite enough to feign more affection to him than I really
had, I should succeed in all my design, and we might part by consent,
and with a good agreement, for I might love him well enough for a
brother, though I could not for a husband.
All this while he lay at my mother to find out, if possible, what was
52 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
the meaning of that dreadful expression of mine, as he called it, which I
mentioned before ; namely, that I was not his lawful wife, nor my children
his legal children. My mother put him off, told him she could bring me
to no explanations, but found there was something that disturbed me very
much, and she hoped she should get it out of me in time, and in the
meantime recommended to him earnestly to use me more tenderly, and
win me with his usual good carriage; told him of his terrifying and
affrighting me with his threats of sending me to a madhouse and the like,
and advised him not to make a woman desperate on any account whatever.
He promised her to soften his behaviour, and bid her assure me that
he loved me as well as ever, and that he had no such design as that of
sending me to a madhouse, whatever he might say in his passion; also
he desired my mother to use the same persuasions to me too, and we
might live together as we used to do.
I found the effects of this treaty presently. My husband's conduct was
immediately altered, and he was quite another man to me; nothing could
be kinder and more obliging than he was to me upon all occasions; and
I could do no less than make some return to it, which I did as well as
I could, but it was but in an awkward manner at best, for nothing was
more frightful to me than his caresses, and the apprehensions of being
with child again by him was ready to throw me into fits; and this made
me see that there was an absolute necessity of breaking the case to him
without any more delay, which, however, I did with all the caution and
reserve Imaginable.
He had continued his altered carriage to me near a month, and we
began to live a new kind of life with one another, and could I have
satisfied myself to have gone on with it, I believe it might have continued
as long as we had continued alive together. One evening, as we were
sitting and talking together under a little awning, which served as an
arbour at the entrance into the garden, he was in a very pleasant,
agreeable humor, and said abundance of kind things to me relating to
the pleasure of our present good agreement, and the disorders of our past
breach, and what a satisfaction it was to him that we had room to hope
we should never have any more of it
I fetched a deep sigh, and told him there was nobody in the world
could be more delighted than I was in the good agreement we had always
kept up, or more afflicted with the breach of it ; but I was sorry to tell
him that there was an unhappy circumstance in our case, which lay too
close to my heart, and which I knew not how to break to him, that
rendered my part of it very miserable, and took from me all the comfort
of the rest.
He importuned me to tell him what it was. I told him I could not
tell how to do it; that while it was concealed from him, I alone was
unhappy, but if he knew it also, we should be both so; and that, there
fore, to keep him in the dark about it was the kindest thing that I could
do, and it was on that account alone that I kept a secret from him, the
very keeping of which, 1 thought, would first or last be my destruction.
It is impossible the express his surprise at this relation, and the double
importunity which he used with me to discover it to him. He told me
I could not be called kind to him, nay, I could not be faithful to him,
if I concealed it from him. I told him 1 thought so too, and yet I could
not do it He went back to what I had said before to him, and told me
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 53
he hoped it did not relate to what I said in my passion, and that he had
resolred to forget all that as the effect of a rash, provoked spirit. I told
him I wished I could forget it all too, but that it was not to be done,
the impression was too deep, and it was impossible.
He then told me he was resolved not to differ with me in anything, and
that therefore he would importune me no more about it, resolving to
acquiesce in whatever I did or said; only begged I would then agree,
that whatever it was, it should no more interrupt our quiet and our mutual
kindness.
This was the most provoking thing he could have said to me, for I
really wanted his further importunities, that I might be prevailed with to
bring out that which indeed was like death to me to conceal. So I ans
wered him plainly that I could not say I was glad not to be importuned,
though I could not tell how to comply. 'But come, my dear', said I,
' what conditions will you make with me upon the opening this affair
to you?'
'Any conditions in the world', said he 'that you can in reason desire
of me.' 'Well', said I, 'come, give it me under your hand, that if you do
not find I am in any fault, or that I am willingly concerned in the causes
of the misfortunes that is to follow, you will not blame me, use me the
worse, do me any injury, or make me be the sufferer for that which is not
my fault.'
'That', says he, 'is the most reasonable demand in the world; not to
blame you for that which is not your fault. Give me a pen and ink',
says he; so I ran in and fetched pen, ink, and paper, and he wrote the
condition down in the very words I had proposed it, and signed it with
his name. 'Well', says he, 'what is next, my dear?' 'Why', says I,
'the next is, that you will not blame me for not discovering the secret to
you before I knew it.' 'Very just again', says he; 'with all my heart';
so he wrote down that also, and signed it.
'Well, my dear', says I, 'then I have but one condition more to make
with you, and that is, that as there is nobody concerned in it but you
and I, you shall not discover it to any person in the world, except your
own mother; and that in all the measures you shall take upon the dis
covery, as I am equally concerned in it with you, though as innocent as
yourself, you shall do nothing in a passion, nothing to my prejudice, or
to your mother's prejudice, without my knowledge and consent.'
This a little amazed him, and he wrote down the words distincly, but
read them over and over before he signed them, hesitating at them several
times, and repeating them: 'My mother's prejudice! and your prejudice?
What mysterious thing can this be?' However, at last he signed it.
'Well', says I, 'my dear, I'll ask you no more under your hand; but as
you are to hear the most unexpected and surprising thing that perhaps
ever befell any family in the world, I beg you to promise me you will
receive it with composure and a presence of mind suitable to a man of
sense.'
'I'll do my utmost', says he, 'upon condition you will keep me no
longer in suspense, for you terrify me with all these preliminaries.'
' Well, then ', says I, ' it is this : As I told you before in a heat that I
was not your lawful wife, and that our children were not legal children,
so I must let you know now in calmness, and in kindness, but with
affliction enough, that I am your own sister, and you my own brother.
54 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
and that we are both the children of our mother now alive, and in the
house, who is convinced of the truth of it, in a manner not to be denied
or contradicted.'
I saw him turn pale and look wild ; and I said, ' Now remember your
promise, and receive it with presence of mind; for who could have said
more to prepare you for it than I have done?' However, I called a ser
vant, and got him a little glass of rum (which is the usual dram of the
country), for he was fainting away.
When he was a little recovered I said to him, 'This story, you may
be sure, requires a long explanation, and, therefore, have patience and
compose your mind to hear it out, and I'll make it as short as I can';
and with this, I told him what I thought was needful of the fact, and
particularly how my mother came to discover it to me, as above. 'And
now, my dear ', says I, ' you will see reason for my capitulations, and that I
neither have been the cause of this matter, nor could be so, and that I
could know nothing of it before now.'
'I am fully satisfied of that', says he, 'but 'tis a dreadful surprise to
me; however, I know a remedy for it all, and a remedy that shall put an
end to all your difficulties, without your going to England.' 'That would be
strange', said I, 'as all the rest.' 'No, no', says he, 'I'll make it easy;
there's nobody in the way of it all but myself. He looked a little dis
ordered when he said this, but I did not apprehend anything from it at
that time, believing, as it used to be said, that they who do those things
never talk of them, or that they who talk of such things never do them.
But things were not come to their height with him, and I observed he
became pensive and melancholy; and in a word, as I thought, a little
distempered in his head. I endeavoured to talk him into temper, and
into a kind of scheme for our government in the affair, and sometimes he
would be well, and talk with some courage about it; but the weight of it
lay too heavy upon his thoughts, and went so far that he made two at
tempts upon himself, and in one of them had actually strangled himself,
and had not his mother come into the room in the very moment, he had
died; but with the help of a negro servant, she cut him down and
recovered him.
Things were now come to a lamentable height. My pity for him now
began to revive that affection which at first I really had for him, and I
endeavoured sincerely, by all the kind carriage I could, to make up the
breach; but, in short, it had gotten too great a head, it preyed upon his
spirits, and it threw him into a lingering consumption, though it happened
not to be mortal. In this distress I did not know what to do, as his life
was apparently declining, and I might perhaps have married again there,
very much to my advantage, had it been my business to have stayed in
the country; but my mind was restless too; I hankered after coming to
England, and nothing would satisfy me without it.
In short, by an unwearied importunity, my husband, who was apparently
decaying, as I observed, was at last prevailed with; and so my fate pushing
me on, the way was made clear for me, and my mother concurring, I
obtained a very good cargo for my coming to England.
When I parted with my brother (for such I am now to call him), we
agreed that after I arrived, he should pretend to have an account that I
was dead in England, and so might marry again when he would. He pro
mised, and engaged to me to correspond with me as a sister, and to assist
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 5 5
and support me as long as I lived; and that if he died before me, he
would leave sufficient to his mother to take care of me still, in the name
of a sister, and he was in some respects just to this; but it was so oddly
managed that I felt the disappointments very sensibly afterwards, as you
shall hear in its time.
I came away in the month of August, after I had been eight years in
that country; and now a new scene of misfortunes attended me, which
perhaps few women have gone through the like.
We had an indifferent good voyage till we came just upon the coast of
England, and where we arrived in two-and-thirty days, but were then ruffled
with two or three storms, one of which drove us away to the coast of
Ireland, and we put in at Kinsale. We remained there about thirteen days,
got some refreshment on shore, and put to sea again, though we met with
very bad weather again, in which the ship sprung her mainmast, as they
called it. But we got at last into Milford Haven, in Wales, where, though
it was remote from our port, yet having my foot safe upon the firm ground
of the isle of Britain, I resolved to venture it no more upon the waters,
which had been so terrible to me; so getting my clothes and money on
shore, with my bills of loading and other papers, I resolved to come for
London, and leave the ship to get to her port as she could ; the port
whither she was bound was to Bristol, where my brother's chief corre
spondent lived.
I got to London in about three weeks, where I heard a little while
after that the ship was arrived at Bristol, but at the same time had the
misfortune to know that by the violent weather she had been in, and
the breaking of her mainmast, she had great damage on board, and that
a great part of her cargo was spoiled.
I had now a new scene of life upon my hands, and a dreadful appe
arance it had. I was come away with a kind of final farewell. What I
brought with me was indeed considerable, had it come safe, and by the
help of it I might have married again tolerably well; but as it was, I
was reduced to between two or three hundred pounds in the whole, and
this without any hope of recruit. I was entirely without friends, nay even
so much as without acquaintances, for I found it was absolutely necessary
not to revive former acquaintance; and as for my subtle friend that set
me up formerly for a fortune, she was dead, and her husband also.
The looking after my cargo of goods soon after obliged me to take a
journey to Bristol, and during my attendance upon that affair I took the
diversion of going to Bath, for as I was still far from being old, so my
humour, which was always gay, continued so to an extreme; and being
now, as it were, a woman of fortune, though I was a woman without a
fortune, I expected something or other might happen in the way that might
mend my circumstances, as had been my case before.
Bath is a place of gallantry enough ; expensive, and full of snares. I
went thither, indeed, in the view of taking what might offer; but I must
do myself that justice as to protest I meant nothing but in an honest way,
nor had any thoughts about me at first that looked the way which after
wards I suffered them to be guided.
Here I stayed the whole latter season, as it is called there, and con
tracted some unhappy acquaintance, which rather prompted the follies I
fell afterwards into than fortified me against them. I lived pleasantly
enough, kept good company, that is to say, gay, fine company; buX had
56 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
the discouragement to find this way of living sunk me exceedingly, and
that as I had no settled income, so spending upon the main stock was
but a certain kind of bleeding to death; and this gave me many sad
reflections. However, I shook them off, and still flattered myself that
something or other might offer for rny advantage.
But I was in the wrong place for it. I was not now at Redriff, where
if I had set myself tolerably up, some honest sea captain or other might
have talked with me upon the honourable terms of matrimony; but I was
at Bath, where men find a mistress sometimes, but very rarely look for a
wife ; and consequently all the particular acquaintances a woman can expect
there must have some tendency that way.
I had spent the first season well enough; for though I had contracted
some acquaintance with a gentleman who came to Bath for his diversion,
yet I had entered into no felonious treaty. I had resisted some casual
offers of gallantry, and had managed that way well enough. I was not
wicked enough to come into the crime for the mere vice of it, and I had
no extraordinary offers that tempted me with the main thing which I
wanted.
However, I went this length the first season, viz. I contracted an
acquaintance with a woman in whose house I lodged, who, though she
did not keep an ill house, yet had none of the best principles in herself.
I had on all occasions behaved myself so well as not to get the least slur
upon my reputation, and all the men that I had conversed with were of so
good reputation that I had not gotten the least reflection by conversing with
them; nor did any of them seem to think there was room for a wicked
correspondence if they had offered it; yet there was one gentleman, as
above, who always singled me out for the diversion of my company, as
he called it, which, as he was pleased to say, was very agreeable to him,
but at that time there was no more in it.
I had many melancholy hours at Bath after all the company was gone;
for though I went to Bristol sometimes for the disposing my effects, and
for recruits of money, yet I chose to come back to Bath for my residence,
because, being on good terms with the woman in whose house I lodged
in the summer, I found that during the winter I lived rather cheaper there
than I could do anywhere else. Here, I say, I passed the winter as heavily
as I had passed the autumn cheerfully; but having contracted a nearer
intimacy with the said woman, in whose house I lodged, I could not avoid
communicating something of what lay hardest upon my mind, and parti
cularly the narrowness of my circumstances. I told her also, that I had
a mother and a brother in Virginia in good circumstances; and as I had
really written back to my mother in particular to represent my condition,
and the great loss I had received, so I did not fail to let my new friend
know that I expected a supply from thence, and so indeed I did; and as
the ships went from Bristol to York River, in Virginia, and back again
generally in less time than from London, and that my brother corresponded
chiefly at Bristol, I thought it was much better for me to wait here for my
returns than to go to London.
My new friend appeared sensibly affected with my condition, and indeed
was so very kind as to reduce the rate of my living with her to so low a
price during the winter, that she convinced me she got nothing by me;
and as for lodging, during the winter I paid nothing at all.
When the spring season came on, she continued to be as kind to me
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 57
as she could, and I lodged with her for a time, till it was found necessary
to do otherwise. She had some persons of character that frequently lodged
in her house, and in particular the gentleman who, as I said, singled me
out for his companion in the winter before ; and he came down again with
another gentleman in his company and two servants, and lodged in the
same house. I suspected that my landlady had invited him thither, letting
him know that I was still with herj but she denied it.
It a word, this gentleman came down and continued to single me out
for his peculiar confidence. He was a complete gentleman, that must be
confessed, and his company was agreeable to me, as mine, if I might believe
him, was to him. He made no professions to me but of an extraordinary
respect, and he had such an opinion of my virtue, that, as he often professed,
he believed, if he should offer anything else, I should reject him with
contempt He soon understood from me that I was a widow; that I had
arrived at Bristol from Virginia by the last ships; and that I waited at
Bath till the next Virginia fleet should arrive, by which I expected con
siderable effects. I understood by him that he had a wife, but that the
lady was distempered in her head, and was under the conduct of her own
relations, which he consented to, to avoid any reflection that might be cast
upon him for mismanaging her cure ; and in the meantime he came to Bath
to divert his thoughts under such a melancholy circumstance.
My landlady, who of her own accord encouraged the correspondence on
all occasions, gave me an advantageous character of him, as of a man of
honour, and of virtue, as well as of a great estate. And indeed I had
reason to say so of him too; for though we lodged both on a floor, and
he had frequently come into my chamber, even when I was in bed, and I
also into his, yet he never offered anything to me further than a kiss, or
so much as solicited me to anything till long after, as you shall hear.
I frequently took notice to my landlady of his exceeding modesty, and
she again used to tell me she believed it was so from tha beginning;
however, she used to tell me that she thought I ought to expect some
gratifications from him for my company, for indeed he did as it were engross
me. I told her I had not given him the least occasion to think I wanted
it, or that I would accept of it from him. She told me she would take
that part upon her, and she managed it so dexterously, that the first time
we were together alone, after she had talked with him, he began to inquire
a little into my circumstances, as how I had subsisted myself since I came
on shore, and whether I did not want money. I stood off very boldly. I
told him that though my cargo of tobacco was damaged, yet that it was
not quite lost; that the merchant that I had been consigned to had so
honestly managed for me that I had not wanted, and that I hoped, with
frugal management, I should make it hold out till more would come, which
I expected by the next fleet; that in the meantime I had retrenched my
expenses, and whereas I kept a maid last season, now I lived without;
and whereas I had a chamber and a dining-room then on the first floor,
I now had but one room, two pair of stairs, and the like 5 ' but I live ',
said I, 'as well satisfied now as then'; adding, that his company had made
me live much more cheerfully than otherwise I should have done, for which
I was much obliged to him ; and so I put off all room for any offer at the
present. It was not long before he attacked me again, and told me he
found that I was backward to trust him with the secret of my circumstances,
which he was sorry for; assuring me that he inquired into it with no design
58 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
to satisfy his own curiosity, but merely to assist me if there was any
occasion; but since I would not own myself to stand in need of any assistance,
he had but one thing more to desire of me, and that was, that I would
promise him that when I was any way straitened, I would frankly tell him
of it, and that I would make use of him with the same freedom that he
made the offer; adding, that I should always find I had a true friend, though
perhaps I was afraid to trust him.
I omitted nothing that was fit to be said by one infinitely obliged, to
let him know that I had a due sense of his kindness ; and indeed from
that time I did not appear so much reserved to him as I had done before,
though still within the bounds of the strictest virtue on both sides; but
how free soever our conversation was, I could not arrive to that freedom
which he desired, viz., to tell him I wanted money, though I was secretly
very glad of his offer.
Some weeks passed after this, and still I never asked him for money;
when my landlady, a cunning creature, who had often pressed me to it,
but found that I could not do it, makes a story of her own inventing, and
comes in bluntly to me when we were together, ' Oh, widow ! ' says she,
'I have bad news to tell you this morning.' ' What is that ?' said I. 'Are
the Virginia ships taken by the French? 'j for that was my fear. 'No,
no', says she, 'but the man you sent to Bristol yesterday for money is
come back, and says he has brought none.'
I could by no means like her project; I thought it looked too much like
for, and here it is ' said I (pulling out my purse with about twelve guineas
in it); and added, 'I intend you shall have most of it by-and-by.'
He seemed distasted a little at her talking as she did, as well as I, taking
it, as I fancied he would, as something forward of her; but when he saw
me give such an answer, he came immediately to himself. The next morning
we talked of it again, when I found he was fully satisfied; and, smiling,
said he hoped I would not want money, and not tell him of It, and that
I had promised him otherwise. I told him I had been very much dissatisfied
at my landlady's talking so publicly the day before of what she had nothing
to do with ; but I supposed she wanted what I owed her, which was about
eight guineas, which I had resolved to give her, and had given it her the
same night.
He was in a mighty good humour when he heard me say I had paid
her, and it went off into some other discourse at that time. But the next
morning, he having heard me up before him, he called to me, and I
answered. He asked me to come into his chamber; he was in bed when
I came in, and he made me come and sit down on his bedside, for he
said he had something to say to me. After some very kind expressions,
he asked me if I would be very honest to him, and give a sincere
answer to one thing he would desire of me. After some little cavil
with him at the word 'sincere', and asking him if I had ever given
him any answers which were not sincere, I promised him I would.
Why, then, his request was, he said, to let him see my purse. I immedi
ately put my hand into my pocket, and laughing at him, pulled it out,
and there was in it three guineas and a half. Then he asked me if there
was all the money I had. I told him no, laughing again, not by a great deal.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 59
Well, then, he said, he would have me promise to go and fetch him
all the money I had, every farthing. I told him I would, and I went
into my chamber, and fetched him a little private drawer, where T htd
about six guineas more, and some silver, and threw it all down upon the
bed, and told him there was all my wealth, honestly to a shilling. He
looked a little at it, but did not tell it, and huddled it all into the drawer
again, and then reaching his pocket, pulled out a key, and bade me open
a little walnut-tree box he had upon the table, and bring him such a
drawer, which I did. In this drawer there was a great deal of money in
gold, I believe near two hundred guineas, but I knew not how much.
He took the drawer, and taking me by the hand, made me put it in and
take a whole handful ; I was backward at that, but he held my hand hard
in his hand, and put it into the drawer, and made me take out as many
guineas almost as I could well take up at once.
When I had done so, he made me put them into my lap, and took my
little drawer, and poured out all my own money among his, and bade me
get me gone, and carry it all into my own chamber.
I relate this story the more particularly, because of the good-humour
of it, and to show the temper with which we conversed. It was not long
after this, but he began every day to find fault with my clothes, with
my laces, and head-dresses, and, in a word, pressed me to buy better,
which, by the way, I was willing enough to do, though I did not seem
to be so. I loved nothing in the world better than fine clothes; but I
told him I must housewife the money he had lent me, or else I should
not be able to pay him again. He then told me, in a few words, that as
he had a sincere respect for me, and knew my circumstances, he had not
lent me that money, but given it me, and that he thought I had merited
it from him, by giving him my company so entirely as I had done.
After this he made me take a maid, and keep house, and his friend being
gone, he obliged me to diet him, which I did very willingly, believing,
as it appeared, that I should lose nothing by it, nor did the woman of
the house fail to find her account in it too.
We had lived thus near three months, when the company beginning to
wear away at Bath, he talked of going away, and fain he would have me
to go to London with him. I was not very easy in that proposal, not
knowing what posture I was to live in there, or how he might use me.
But while this was in debate, he fell very sick; he had gone out to a
place in Somersetshire, called Shepton, and was there taken very ill, and
so ill that he could not travel ; so he sent his man back to Bath, to beg
me that I would hire a coach and come over to him. Before he went,
he had left his money and other things of value with me, and what to
do with them I did not know, but I secured them as well as I could,
and locked up the lodgings and went to him, where I found him very
ill indeed, so I persuaded him to be carried in a litter to Bath, where
was more help and better advice to be had.
He consented, and I brought him to Bath, which was about fifteen
miles, as I remember. Here he continued very ill of a fever, and kept
his bed five weeks, all which time I nursed him and tended him as
carefully as if I had been his wife; indeed, if I had been his wife I could
not have done more. I sat up with him so much and so often, that at
last, indeed, he would not let me sit up any longer, and then I got a
pallet-bed into his room, and lay in it just at his bed's feet.
60 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I was indeed sensibly affected with his condition, and with the appre
hensions of losing such a friend as he was, and was like to be to me,
and I used to sit and cry by him many hours together. At last he grew
better, and gave hopes that he would recover, as indeed he did, though
very slowly.
Were it otherwise than what I am going to say, I should not be back
ward to disclose it, as it is apparent I have done in other cases; but I
affirm, through all this conversation, abating the coming into the chamber
when I or he was in bed, and the necessary offices of attending him
night and day when he was sick, there had not passed the least immodest
word or action between us. Oh that it had been so to the last!
After some time he gathered strength and grew well apace, and I would
have removed my pallet-bed, but he would not let me, till he was able
to venture himself without anybody to sit up with him, when I removed
to my own chamber.
He took many occasions to express his sense of my tenderness for him j
and when he grew well he made me a present of fifty guineas for my
care, and, as he called it, hazarding my life to save his.
And now he made deep protestations of a sincere inviolable affection
for me, but with the utmost reserve for my virtue and his own. I told
him I was fully satisfied of it. He carried it that length that he protested
to me, that if he was naked in bed with me, he would as sacredly preserve
my virtue as he would defend it, if I was assaulted by a ravisher. I believed
him, and told him I did so ; but this did not satisfy him; he would, he
said, wait for some opportunity to give me an undoubted testimony of it.
It was a great while after this that I had occasion, on my business, to
go to Bristol, upon which he hired me a coach, and would go with me;
and now indeed 6"ur intimacy increased. From Bristol he carried me to
Gloucester, which was merely a journey of pleasure, to take the air; and
here it was our hap to have no lodgings in the inn, but in one large
chamber with two beds in it. The master of the house going 'vith us to
show his rooms, and coming into that room, said very frankiy to him,
'Sir, it is none of my business to inquire whether the lady be your spouse
or no, but if not, you may lie as honestly in these two beds as if you
were in two chambers', and with that he pulls a great curtain which drew
quite across the room, and effectually divided the beds. 'Well', says my
friend, very readily, 'these beds will do; and as for the rest, we are too
near akin to lie together, though we may lodge near one another'; and
this put an honest face on the thing too. When we came to go to bed,
he decently went out of the room till I was in bed, and then went to
bed in the other bed, but lay there talking to me a great while.
At last, repeating his usual saying, that he could lie naked in the bed
with me, aud not offer me the least injury, he starts out of his bed.
•And now, my dear', says he, 'you shall see how just I will be to you,
and that I can keep my word ' ; and away he comes to my bed.
I resisted a little, but I must confess I should not have resisted him
much, if he had not made those promises at all; so after a little struggle,
I lay still and let him come to bed. When he was there he took me in
his arms, and so I lay all night with him, but he had no more to do
with me, or offered anything to me other than embracing me as I say in
his arms, no, not the whole night, but rose up and dressed him in the
morning, and left me as innocent for him as I was the day I was born.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 6 1
This was a surprising thing to me, and perhaps may be so to others
who know how the laws of nature work; for he was a vigorous, brisk
person. Nor did he act thus on a principle of religion at all, but of mere
affection; insisting on it that, though I was to him the most agreeable
woman in the world, yet, because he loved me, he could not injure me.
I own it was a noble principle, but as it was what I never saw before,
so it was perfectly amazing. We travelled the rest of the journey as wo
did before, and came back to Bath, where, as he had opportunity to come
to me when he would, he often repeated the same moderation, and I
frequently lay with him, and although all the familiarities of man and
wife were common to us, yet he never once offered to go any further,
and he valued himself much upon it I do not say that I was so wholly
pleased with it as he thought I was, for I own I was much wickeder
than he.
We lived thus near two years, only with this exception, that he went
three times to London in that time, and once he continued there four
months; but, to do him justice, he always supplied me with money to
subsist on very handsomely.
Had we continued thus, I confess we had much to boast of; but, as
wise men say, it is ill venturing too near the brink of a command. So we
found it; and here again I must do him the justice to own that the first
breach was not on his part. It was one night that we were in bed
together warm and merry, and having drunk, I think, a little more both
of us than usual, though not in the least to disorder us, when, after some
other follies which I cannot name, and being clasped close in his arms,
I told him (I repeat it with shame and horror of soul) that I could find
in my heart to discharge him of his engagement for one night and no more.
He took me at my word immediately, and after" that there was no
resisting him; neither indeed had I any mind to resist him any more.
Thus the government of our virtue was broken, and I exchanged the
place of f/.iend for that unmusical, harsh-sotfnding title of whore. In the
morning r,/e were both at our penitentials ; I cried very heartily, he
expressed himself very sorry; but that was all either of us could do at
that time, and the way being thus cleared, and the bars of virtue and
conscience thus removed, we had the less to struggle with.
It was but a dull kind of conversation that we had together for all the
rest of that week; I looked on him with blushes, and every now and then
started that melancholy objection, 'What if I should be with child now?
What will become of me then?' He encouraged me by telling me, that
as long as I was true to him, he would be so to me; and since it was
gone such a length (which indeed he never intended), yet if I was with
child, he would take care of that and me too. This hardened us both.
I assured him if I was with child, I would die for want of a midwife
rather than name him as the father of it; and he assured me I should
never want if I should be with child. These mutual assurances hardened
us in the thing, and after this we repeated the crime as often as we
pleased, till at length, as I feared, so it came to pass, and I was indeed
with child.
After I was sure it was so, and I had satisfied him of it too, we began
to think of taking measures for the managing it, and I proposed trusting
the secret to my landlady, and asking her advice, which he agreed to. My
landlady, a woman (as I found) used to such things, made light of itj
62 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
she said she knew it would come to that at last, and made us very merry
about it. As I said above, we found her an experienced old lady at such
work; she undertook everything, engaged to procure a midwife and a nurse,
to satisfy all inquiries, and bring us off with reputation, and she did so
very dexterously indeed.
When I grew near my time, she desired my gentleman to go away to
London, or make as if he did so. When he was gone, she acquainted the
parish officers that there was a lady ready to lie in at her house, but that
she knew her husband very well, and gave them, as she pretended, an
account of his name, which she called Sir Walter Cleave ; telling them he
was a worthy gentleman, and that she would answer for all inquiries, and
the like. This satisfied the parish officers presently, and I lay in in as
much credit as I could have done if I had really been my Lady Cleave;
and was assisted in my travail by three or four of the best citizens' wives
of Bath, which, however, made me a little the more expensive to him. I
often expressed my concern to him about that part, but he bid me not be
concerned at it.
As he had furnished me very sufficiently with money for the extraordinary
expenses of my lying in, I had everything very handsome about me, but
did not affect to be so gay or extravagant neither; besides, knowing the
world, as I had done, and that such kind of things do not often last long,
I took care to lay up as much money as I could for a wet day, as I
called it; making him believe it was all spent upon the extraordinary
appearance of things in my lying in.
By this means, with what he had given me as above, I had at the end
of my lying in two hundred guineas by me, including also what was left
of my own.
I was brougL ' 1 ->f a fine boy indeed, and a charming child it was-,
and when he he^ . " wrote me a very kind, obliging letter about
it, and then told me '-id < it would look better for me to come away
for London as soon as 1 ' ~"3>z-> and well; that he had provided apart
ments for me at Hammersmith, "-v^ T came only from London; and that
after a while I shonld go back to Bain, and he would go with me.
I liked his offer very well, and hired a coach on purpose, and taking
my child and a wet-nurse to tend and suckle it, and a maid-servant with
me, away I went for London.
He met me at Reading in his own chariot, and taking me into that, left
the servant and the child in the hired coach, and so he brought me to ray
new lodgings at Hammersmith; with which I had abundance of reason
to be very well pleased, for they were very handsome rooms.
And now I was indeed in the height of what I might call prosperity,
and I wanted nothing but to be a wife, which, however, could not be in
this case, and therefore on all occasions I studied to save what I could,
as I said above, against the time of scarcity; knowing well enough that
such things as these do not always continue ; that men that keep mistresses
often change them, grow weary of them, or jealous of them, or something
or other; and sometimes the ladies that are thus well used, are not careful
by a prudent conduct to preserve the esteem of their persons, or the nice
article of their fidelity, and then they are justly cast off with contempt.
But I was secured in this point, for as I had no inclination to change,
so I had no manner of acquaintance, so no temptation to look any farther.
I kept no company but in the family where I lodged, and with a clergyman's
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 63
lady at next door ; so that when he was absent I visited nobody, nor did
he ever find me out of my chamber or parlour whenever he came down;
if I went anywhere to take the air, it was always with him.
The living in this manner with him, and his with me, was certainly the
most undesigned thing in the v/orld; he often protested to me that when
he became first acquainted with me, and even to the very night when we
first broke in upon our rules, he never had the least design of lying with
me; that he always had a sincere affection for me, but not the least real
inclination to do what he had done. I assured him I never suspected him ;
that, if I had, I should not so easily have yielded to the freedoms which
brought it on, but that it was all a surprise, and was owing to our having
yielded too far to our mutual inclinations that night; and indeed I have
often observed since, and leave it as a caution to the readers of this story,
that we ought to be cautious of gratifying our inclinations in loose and
lewd freedoms, lest we find our resolutions of virtue fail us in the juncture
when their assistance should be most necessary.
It is true that from the first hour I began to converse with him, I
resolved to let him lie with me, if he offered it ; but it was because I wanted
his help, and knew of no other way of securing him. But when we were
that night together, and, as I have said, had gone such a length, I found
my weakness; the inclination was not to be resisted, but I was obliged to
yield up all even before he asked it.
However, he was so just to me that he never upbraided me with that;
nor did he ever express the least dislike of my conduct on any other
occasion, but always protested he was as much delighted with my company
as he was the first hour we came together.
It is true that he had no wife, that is to say, she was no wife to him,
but the reflections of conscience oftentimes snatch a man, especially a
man of sense, from the arms of a mistress, as it did him at last, though
on another occasion.
On the other hand, though I was not without secret reproaches of my
own conscience for the life I led, and that even in the greatest height of
the satisfaction I ever took, yet I had the terrible prospect of poverty and
starving, which lay on me as a frightful spectre, so that there was no
looking behind me; but as poverty .-ought me into it, so fear of poverty
kept m.e in it, and I frequently resolved to leave it quite off, if I could
but come to lay up money enough to maintain me. But these were thoughts
of no weight, and whenever he came to me they vanished ; for his company
was so delightful, that there was no being melancholy when he was there;
the reflections were all the subject of those hours when I was alone.
I lived six years in this happy but unhappy condition, in which time I
brought him three children, but only the first of them lived ; and though I
removed twice in that six years, yet I came back the sixth year to my
first lodgings at Hammersmith. Here it was that I was one morning
surprised with a kind but melancholy letter from my gentleman, intimating
that he was very ill; and was afraid lie should have another fit of sickness,
but that his wife's relations being in the house with him, it would not be
practicable to have me with him, which, however, he expressed his great
dissatisfaction in, and that he wished I could be allowed to tend and nurse
him as I did before.
I was very much concerned at this account, and was very impatient to
know how it was with him. I waited a fortnight or thereabouts, and heard
64 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
nothing, which surprised me, and I began to be very uneasy indeed. I
think, I may say, that for the next fortnight I was near to distracted. It
was my particular difficulty, that I did not know directly where he was;
for I understood at first he was in the lodgings of his wife's mother; but
having removed myself to London, I soon found, by the help of the direction
I had for writing my letters to him, how to inquire after him, and there
I found that he was at a house in Bloomsbury, whither he had removed
his whole family; and that his wife and wife's mother were in the same
house, though the wife was not suffered to know that she was in the same
house with her husband.
Here I also soon understood that he was at the last extremity, which
made me almost at the last extremity, too, to have a true account. One
night I had the curiosity to disguise myself like a servant-maid, in a round
cap and straw hat, and went to the door, as sent by a lady of his neigh
bourhood, where he lived before, and giving master and mistress's service,
I said I was sent to know how Mr did, and how he had rested that
night. In delivering this message I got the opportunity I desired; for,
speaking with one of the maids, I held a long gossip's tale with her, and
had all the particulars of his illness, which I found was a pleurisy attended
with a cough and fever. She told me also who was in the house, and
how his wife was, who, by her relation, they were in some hopes might
recover her understanding; but as to the gentleman himself, the doctors
said there was very little hopes of him, that in the morning they thought
he had been dying, and that he was but little better then, for they did
not expect that he could live over the next night.
This was heavy news for me, and I began now to see an end of my
prosperity, and to see that it was well I had played the good housewife,
and saved something while he was alive, for now I had no view of my
own living before me.
It lay very heavy upon my mind, too, that I had a son, a fine lovely
boy, above five years old, and no provision made for it, at least that I
knew of. With these considerations, and a sad heart, I went home that
evening and began to cast with myself how I should live, and in what
manner to bestow myself, for the residue of my life.
You may be sure I could not rest without inquiring again very quickly
what was become of him ; and not venturing to go myself, I sent several
sham messengers, till after a fortnight's waiting longer, I found that there
was hopes of his life, though he was still very ill; then I abated my
sending to the house, and in some time after, I learnt in the neighbour
hood that he was about house, and then that he was abroad again.
I made no doubt then but that I should soon hear of him, and began
to comfort myself with my circumstances being, as I thought, recovered.
I waited a week, and two weeks, and with much surprise near two
months, and heard nothing, but that, being recovered, he was gone into the
country for the air after his distemper. After this it was yet two months
more, and then I understood he was come to his city house again, but
still I heard nothing from him.
I had written several letters for him, and directed them as usual, and
found two or three of them had been called for, but not the rest. I wrote
again in a more pressing manner than ever, and in one of them let
him know that I must be forced to wait on him myself, representing my
circumstances, the rent of lodgings to pay, and the provision for the
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 65
child wanting, and my own deplorable condition, destitute of subsistence
after his most solemn engagement to take care of and provide
for me. I took a copy of this letter, and finding it lay at the house near
a month, and was not called for, I found means to have the copy of it
put into his hands at a coffee-house where I had found he had used to go.
This letter forced an answer from him, by which, though I found I was
to be abandoned, yet I found he had sent a letter to me some time before,
desiring me to go down to Bath again. Its contents I shall come to
presently.
It is true that sick-beds are the times when such correspondences as
this are looked on with different countenances, and seen with other eyes
than we saw them with before: my lover had been at the gates of death,
and at the very brink of eternity ; and, it seems, struck with a due remorse,
and with sad reflections upon his past life of gallantry and levity; and
among the rest, his criminal correspondence with me, which was indeed
neither more or less than a long-continued life of adultery, had represented
itself as it really was, not as it had been formerly thought by him to be,
and he looked upon it now with a just abhorrence.
I cannot but observe also, and leave it for the direction of my sex in
such cases of pleasure, that whenever sincere repentance succeeds such a
crime as this, there never fails to attend a hatred of the object; and the
more the affection might seem to be before, the hatred will be more in
proportion. It will always be so; indeed it cannot be otherwise; for
there cannot be a true and sincere abhorrence of the offence, and the love
to the cause of it remain; there will, with an abhorrence of the sin, be
found a detestation of the fellow-sinner; you can expect no other.
I found it so here, though good manners, and justice in this gentleman,
kept him from carrying it on to any extreme; but the short history of his
part in this affair was thus; he perceived by my last letter, and by the
rest, which he went for after, that I was not gone to Bath, and that his
first letter had not come to my hand, upon which he writes me this
following :
MADAM, I am surprised that my letter, dated the 8th of last month, did not coma
to your hand ; I give you my word it was delivered at your lodgings, and to the hands
of your maid.
I need not acquaint you with what has been my condition for some time past; and
how, having been at the edge of the grave, I am, by the unexpected and undeserved
mercy of Heaven, restored again. In the condition I have been in, it cannot be strange
to you that our unhappy correspondence has not been the least of the burthens which
lay upon my conscience. I need say no more; those things that must be repented of,
must also be reformed.
I wish you would think of going back to Bath. I enclose you here a bill for £50
for clearing yourself at your lodgings, and carrying you down, and hope it will be no
surprise to you to add, that on this account only, and not for any offence given me
on your side, I can tet you no mort. I will take due care of the child; leave him
where he is, or take him with you, as you please. I wish you the like reflections, and
that they may be to your advantage. — I am, &c.
I was struck with this letter as with a thousand wounds ; the reproaches
of my own conscience were such as I cannot express, for I was not blind
to my own crime; and I reflected that I might with less offence have
continued with my brother, since there was no crime in our marriage on
that score, neither of us knowing it.
But I never once reflected that I was all this while a married woman,
5
66 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
ft wife to Mr , the linen-draper, who, though he had left me by the
necessity of his circumstances, had no power to discharge me from the
marriage contract which was between us, or to give me a legal liberty to
marry again ; so that I had been no less than a whore and an adulteress
all this while. I then reproached myself with the liberties I had taken,
and how I had been a snare to this gentleman, and that indeed I was
principal in the crime ; that now he was mercifully snatched out of the
gulf by a convincing work upon his mind, but that I was left, as if I was
abandoned by Heaven, to a continuing in my wickedness.
Under these reflections I continued very pensive and sad for near a
month, and did not go down to Bath, having no inclination to be with
the woman whom I was with before, lest, as I thought, she should prompt
me to some wicked course of life again, as she had done, and besides, I
was loth she should know I was cast off as above,
And now I was greatly perplexed about my littla boy. It was death
to me to part with the child, and yet when I considered the danger of being
one time or other left with him to keep without being able to support
him, I then resolved to leave him; but then I concluded to be near him
myself too, that I might have the satisfaction of seeing him, without the
care of providing for him. So I sent my gentleman a short letter that I had
obeyed his orders in all things but that of going back to Bath ; that
however parting from him was a wound to me that I could never recover,
yet that I was fully satisfied his reflections were just, and would be very
far from desiring to obstruct his reformation.
Then I represented my own circumstances to him in the most moving
terms. I told him that those unhappy distresses which first moved him
to a generous friendship for me, would, I hoped, move him to a little
concern for me now, though the criminal part of our correspondence, which
I believe neither of us intended to fall into at that time, was broken off;
that I desired to repent as sincerely as he had done, but entreated him
to put me in some condition that I might not be exposed to temptations
from the frightful prospect of poverty and distress; and if he had the
least apprehensions of my being troublesome to him, I begged he would
put me in a posture to go back to my mother in Virgiuia, from whence
he knew I came, and that would put an end to all his fears on that
account. I concluded, that if he would send me £50 more to facilitate
my going away, I would send him back a general release, and would
promise never to disturb him more with any importunities ; unless it were
to hear of the well-doing of the child, who, if I found my mother living,
and my circumstances able, I would send for, and take him also off his
hands.
This was indeed all a cheat thus far, viz., that I had no intention to
go to Virginia, as the account of my former affairs there may convince
anybody of; but the business was to get this last £50 of him, if possible,
knowing well enough it would be the last penny I was ever to expect.
However, the argument I used, namely, of giving him a general release,
and never troubling him any more, prevailed effectually, and he sent me
a bill for the money by a person who brought with him a general release
for me to sign, and which I frankly signed; and thus, though full sore
against my will, a final end was put to this affair.
And here I cannot but reflect upon the unhappy consequence of too
great freedoms between persons stated as we were, upon the pretence of
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 67
innocent intentions, love of friendship, and the like; for the flesh has
generally so great a share in those friendships, that it is great odds but
inclination prevails at last over the most solemn resolutions ; and that vice
breaks in at the breaches of decency, which really innocent friendship
ought to preserve with the greatest strictness. But I leave the readers of
these things to their own just reflections, which they will be more able
to make effectual than I, who so soon forgot myself, and am therefore
but a very indifferent monitor.
I was now a single person again, as I may call myself; I was loosed
from all the obligations either of wedlock or mistress-ship in the world,
except my husband the linen-draper, whom I having not now heard from
in almost fifteen years, nobody could blame me for thinking myself
entirely freed from ; seeing also he had at his going away told me, that if
I did not hear frequently from him, I should conclude he was dead, and
I might freely marry again to whom I pleased.
I now began to cast up my accounts. I had by many letters, and much
importunity, and with the intercession of my mother too, had a second
return of some goods from my brother, as I now call him, in Virginia, to
make up the damage of the cargo I brought away with me, and this too
was upon the condition of my sealing a general release to him, which,
though I thought hard, yet I was obliged to promise. I managed so well
in this case, that I got my goods away before the release was signed, and
then I always found something or other to say to evade the thing, and
to put off the signing it at all; till at length I pretended I mnst write to
my brother before I could do it.
Including this recruit, and before I got the last £50, I found my strength
to amount, put all together, to about £400, so that with that I had above
£450. I had saved jgioo more, but I met with a disaster with that, which
was this — that a goldsmith in whose hands I had trusted it broke, so I
lost £70 of my money, the man's composition not making above £30 out
of his £100. I had a little plate, but not much, and was well enough
stocked with clothes and linen.
*•' With this stock I had the world to begin again ; but you are to consider
that I was not now the same woman as when I lived at Rotherhithe ;
for, first of all, I was near twenty years older, and did not look the better
for my age, nor for my rambles to Virginia and back again ; and though
I omitted nothing that might set me out to advantage, except painting, for
that I never stooped to, yet there would always be some difference seen
. between five-and-twenty and two-and-forty.
I cast about innumerable ways for my future state of life, and began to
consider very seriously what I should do, but nothing offered. I took care
to make the world take me for something more than I was, and had it
given out that I was a fortune, and that my estate was in my own hands,
the last of which was very true, the first of it was as above. I had no
acquaintance, which was one of my worst misfortunes, and the consequence
of that was, I had no adviser, and, above all, I had nobody to whom I
could in confidence commit the secret of my circumstances; and I found
by experience, that to be friendless is the worst condition, next to being
in want, that a woman can be reduced to: I say a woman, because 'tis
evident men can be their own advisers and their own directors, and know
how to work themselves out of difficulties and into business better than
women; but if a woman has no friend to communicate her affairs to, and
68 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
to advise and assist her, 'tis ten to one but she is undone; nay, and the
more money she has, the more danger she is in of being wronged and
deceived; and this was my case in the affair of the £100 which I left in
the hands of the goldsmith, as above, whose credit, it seems, was upon
the ebb before, but I, that had nobody to consult with, knew nothing of
it, and so lost my money.
When a woman is thus left desolate and void of counsel, she is just like
a bag of money or a jewel dropt on the highway, which is a prey to the
next comer; if a man of virtue and upright principles happens to find it,
he will have it cried, and the owner may come to hear of it again; but
how many times shall such a thing fall into hands that will make no scruple
of seizing it for their own, to once that it shall come into good hands?
This was evidently my case, for I was now a loose, unguided creature,
and had no help, no assistance, no guide for my conduct; I knew what I
aimed at, and what I wanted, but knew nothing how to pursue the end
by direct means. I wanted to be placed in a settled state of living, and
had I happened to meet with a sober, good husband, I should have been
as true a wife to him as virtue itself could have formed. If I had been
otherwise, the vice came in always at the door of necessity, not at the
door of inclination; and I understood too well, by the want of it, what
the value of a settled life was, to do anything to forfeit the felicity of it;
nay, I should have made the better wife for all the difficulties I had passed
through, by a great deal; nor did I in any of the times that I had been
a wife give my husbands the least uneasiness on account of my behaviour.
But all this was nothing; I found no encouraging prospect. I waited;
I lived regularly, and with as much frugality as became my circumstances ;
but nothing offered, nothing presented, and the main stock wasted apace.
What to do I knew not; the terror of approaching poverty lay hard upon
my spirits. I had some money, but where to place it I knew not, nor
would the interest of it maintain me, at least not in London.
At length a new scene opened. There was in the house where I lodged
a north-country gentlewoman, and nothing was more frequent in her discourse
than her account of the cheapness of provisions, and the easy way of living
in her country; how plentiful and how cheap everything was, what good
company they kept, and the like ; till at last I told her she almost tempted
me to go and live in her country; for I that was a widow, though I had
sufficient to live on, yet had no way of increasing it; and that London
was an extravagant place; that I found I could not live here under £100
a year, unless I kept no company, no servant, made no appearance, and
buried myself in privacy, as if I was obliged to it by necessity.
I should have observed, that she was always made to believe, as every
body else was, that I was a great fortune, or at least that I had three or
four thousand pounds, if not more, and all in my own hands ; and she was
mighty sweet upon me when she thought me inclined in the least to go
into her country. She said she had a sister lived near Liverpool; that her
brother was a considerable gentleman there, and had a great estate also
in Ireland ; that she would go down there in about two months, and, if I
would give her my company thither, I should be as welcome as herself
for a month or more as I pleased, till I should see how I liked the country;
and if I thought fit to live there, she would undertake they would take
care, though they did not entertain lodgers themselves, they would recom
mend me to some agreeable family, where I should be placed to my content.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 69
If this woman had known my real circumstances, she would never have
laid so many snares, and taken so many weary steps, to catch a poor desolate
creature that was good for little when it was caught; and indeed I, whose
case was almost desperate, and thought I could not be much worse, was
not very anxious about what might befall me, provided they did me no
personal injury; so I suffered myself, though not without a great deal of
invitation, and great professions of sincere friendship and real kindness —
I say, I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to go with her, and accordingly
I put myself in a posture for a journey, though I did not absolutely know
whither I was to go.
And now I found myself in great distress ; what little I had in the world
was all in money, except, as before, a little plate, some linen, and my clothes;
as for household stuff, I had little or none, for I had lived always in lodgings;
but I had not one friend in the world with whom to trust that little I had,
or to direct me how to dispose of it. I thought of the bank, and of the
other companies in London, but I had no friend to commit the management
of it to, and to keep and carry about me bank bills, tallies, orders, and
such things, I looked upon as unsafe; that if they were lost, my money
was lost, and then I was undone; and, on the other hand, I might be
robbed, and perhaps murdered in a strange place for them; and what to
do I knew not.
It came into my thoughts one morning that I would go to the bank
myself, where I had often been to receive the interests of some bills I had,
and where I had found the clerk, to whom I applied myself, very honest
to me, and particularly so fair one time, that when I had mistold my money,
and taken less than my due, and was coming away, he set me to rights and
gave me the rest, which he might have put into his own pocket.
I went to him and asked if he would trouble himself to be my adviser,
who was a poor friendless widow, and knew not what to do. He told me,
if I desired his opinion of anything within the reach of his business, he
would do his endeavour that I should not be wronged, but that he would
also help me to a good, sober person of his acquaintance, who was a clerk
in such business too, though not in their house, whose judgment was g«od,
and whose honesty I might depend upon; 'for', added he, 'I will answer
for him, and for every step he takes; if he wrongs you, madam, of one
farthing, it shall lie at my door; and he delights to assist people in such
cases — he does it as an act of charity.'
I was a little at a stand at this discourse; but after some pause I told
him I had rather have depended upon him, because I had found him
honest, but if that could not be, I would take his recommendation sooner
than any one's else. 'I dare say, madam', says he, 'that you will be as
well satisfied with my friend as with me, and he is thoroughly able to
assist you, which I am not.' It seems he had his hands full of the business
of the bank, and had engaged to meddle with no other business than that
of his office: he added, that his friend should take nothing of me for his
advice or assistance, and this indeed encouraged me.
He appointed the same evening, after the bank was shut, for me to meet
him and his friend. As soon as I saw his friend, and he began but to
talk of the affair, I was fully satisfied I had a very honest man to deal
with; his countenance spoke it; and his character, as I heard afterwards,
was everywhere so good, that I had no room for any more doubts upon me.
After the first meeting, in which I only said what I had said before, he
70 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
appointed me to come the next day, telling me I might in the meantime
satisfy myself of him by inquiry, which, however, I knew not how to do,
having no acquaintance myself.
Accordingly I met him the next day, when I entered more freely with
him into my case. I told him my circumstances at large: that I was a
widow come over from America, perfectly desolate and friendless; that I
had a little money, and but a little, and was almost distracted for fear of
losing it, having no friend in the world to trust with the management of
it; that I was going into the North of England to live cheap, that my stock
might not waste ; that I would willingly lodge my money in the bank, but
that I durst not carry the bills about me; and how to correspond about
it, or with whom, I knew not.
He told me I might lodge the money in the bank as an account, and
its being entered in the books would entitle me to the money at any time ;
and if I was in the north I might draw bills on the cashier, and receive
it when I would ; but that then it would be esteemed as running cash, and
the bank would give no interest for it; that I might buy stock with it,
and so it would lie in store for me, but that then if I wanted to dispose
of it, I must come up to town to transfer it, and even it would be with
some difficulty I should receive the half-yearly dividend, unless I was here
in person, or had some friend I could trust with having the stock in his
name to do it for me, and that would have the same difficulty in it as
before; and with that he looked hard at me and smiled a little. At last
gays he, ' Why do you not get a head-steward, madam, that may take you
and your money together, and then you would have the trouble taken off
of your hands?' 'Ay, sir, and the money too, it may be', said I; 'for
truly I find the hazard that way is as much as 'tis t'other way'; but I
remember I said secretly to myself, ' I wish you would ask me the question
fairly; I would consider very seriously on it before I said No.'
He went on a good way with me, and I thought once or twice he was
in earnest, but, to my real affliction, I found at last he had a wife; but
when he owned he had a wife he shook his head, and said with some
concern, that indeed he had a wife, and no wife. I began to think he
had been in the condition of my late lover, and that his wife had been
lunatic, or some such thing. However, we had not much more discourse
at that time, but he told me he was in too much hurry of business then,
but that if I would come home to his house after their business was over,
he would consider what might be done for me, to put my affairs in a
posture of security. I told him I would come, and desired to know where
he lived. He gave me a direction in writing, and when he gave it me he
read it to me, and said, 'There 'tis, madam, if you dare trust yourself with
me.' 'Yes, sir', said Ij 'I believe I may venture to trust you with myself,
for you have a wife, you say, and I don't want a husband ; besides, I dare
trust you with my money, which is all I have in the world, and if that
were gone, I may trust myself anywhere.'
He said some things in jest that were very handsome and mannerly, and
would have pleased me very well if they had been in earnest; but that
passed over, I took the directions, and appointed to be at his house at
seven o'clock the same evening.
When I came he made several proposals for my placing my money in
the bank, in order to my having interest for it; but still some difficulty
or other came in the way, which he objected as not safe; and I found
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 7 1
such a sincere disinterested honesty in him, that I began to think I had
certainly found the honest man I wanted, and that I could never put myself
into better hauds ; so I told him with a great deal of frankness that I had
never met with a man or woman yet that I could trust, or in whom I could
think myself safe, but that I saw he was so disinterestedly concerned for
my safety, that would I freely trust him with the management of that little
I had, if he would accept to be steward for a poor widow that could give
him no salary.
He smiled, and, standing up, with great respect saluted me. He told
me he could not but take it very kindly that I had so good an opinion
of him; that he would not deceive me; that he would do anything in his
power to serve me, and expect no salary; but that he could not by any
means accept of a trust that might bring him to be suspected of self-
interest, and that if I should die he might have disputes with my executors,
which he should be very loth to encumber himself with.
I told him if those were all his objections I would soon remove them,
and convince him that there was not the least room for any difficulty ; for
that, first, as for suspecting him, if ever, now was the time to suspect
him, and not to put the trust into his hands; and whenever I did suspect
him, he could but throw it up then, and refuse to go on. Then, as to
executors, I assured him I had no heirs, nor any relations in England, and
I would have neither heirs or executors but himself, unless I should alter
my conditions, and then his trust and trouble should cease together,
which, however, I had no prospect of yet; but I told him, if I died as I
was, it should be all his own, and he would deserve it by being so
faithful to me, as I was satisfied he would be.
He changed his countenance at this discourse, and asked me how I
came to have so much goodwill for him; and looking very much pleased,
said he might very lawfully wish he was single for my sake. I smiled, and
told him, that as he was not, my offer could have no design upon him,
and to wish was not to be allowed, 'twas criminal to his wife.
He told me I was wrong; 'for', says he, 'as I said before, I have a
wife and no wife, and 'twould be no sin to wish her hanged.' 'I know
nothing of your circumstances that way, sir', said I; 'but it cannot be
innocent to wish your wife dead.' 'I tell you', says he again, 'she is a
wife and no wife; you don't know what I am, or what she is.'
'That's true', said I, 'sir, I don't know what you are; but I believe
you to be an honest man, and that's the cause of all my confidence in you.'
'Well, well', says he, 'and so I am; but I am something too, madam;
for', says he, 'to be plain with you, I am a cuckold, and she is a whore.'
He spoke it in a kind of jest, but it was with such an awkward smile,
that I perceived it stuck very close to him, and he looked dismally when
he said it.
'That alter* the case indeed, sir', said I, 'as to that part you were
speaking of; but a cuckold, you know, may be an honest man; it does
not alter that case at all. Besides, I think ', said I, ' since your wife is
so dishonest to you, you are too honest to her to own her for your wife;
but that', said I, 'is what I have nothing to do with.' 'Nay', says he,
'I do think to clear my hands of her; for, to be plain with you, madam',
added he, 'I am no contented cuckold neither: on the other hand, I
assure you it provokes me to the highest degree, but I can't help myselfj
she that will be a whore, will be a whore.'
72 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I waived the discourse, and began to talk of my business; but I found
he could not have done with it, so I let him alone, and he went on to
tell me all the circumstances of his case, too long to relate here; particu
larly, that having been out of England some time before he came to the
post he was in, she had had two children in the meantime by an officer
in the army; and that when he came to England, and, upon her submission,
took her again, and maintained her very well, yet she ran away from him
with a linen-draper's apprentice, robbed him of what she could come at,
and continued to live from him still; 'so that, madam', says he, 'she is
a whore not by necessity, which is the common bait, but by inclination,
and for the sake of the vice.'
Well, I pitied him, and wished him well rid of her, and still would have
talked of my business, but it would not do. At last he looked steadily
at me. ' Look you, madam', says he, ' you came to ask advice of me, and
I will serve you as faithfully as if you were my own sister; but I must
turn the tables, since you oblige me to do it, and are so friendly to me,
and I think I must ask advice of you. Tell me, what must a poor abused
fellow do with a whore? What can I do to do myself justice upon her?'
'Alas! sir', says I, "tis a case too nice for me to advise in, but it
seems to me she has run away from you, so you are rid of her fairly ;
what can you desire more?' 'Ay, she is gone indeed', said he, 'but I
am not clear of her for all that.' ' That's true ', says I ; 'she may indeed
run you into debt, but the law has furnished you with methods to prevent
that also; you may cry her down, as they call it.'
'No, no', says he, 'that is not the case; I have taken care of all that;
'tis not that part that I speak of, but I would be rid of her that I might
marry again.'
'Well, sir", says I, 'then you must divorce her; if you can prove what
you say, you may certainly get that done, and then you are free.'
'That's very tedious and expensive', says he.
' Why ', says I, ' if you can get any woman you like to take your word,
I suppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with you that she takes herself.'
'Ay', says he, 'but it would be hard to bring an honest woman to do
that ; and for the other sort ', says he, ' I have had enough of her to
meddle with any more whores.'
It occurred to me presently, 'I would have taken your word with all
my heart, if you had but asked me the question ' ; but that was to myself.
To him I replied, 'Why, you shut the door against any honest woman
accepting you, for you condemn all that should venture upon you, and
conclude that a woman that takes you now can't be honest.'
'Why', says he, 'I wish you would satisfy me that an honest woman
would take me; I'd venture it'; and then turns short upon me, 'Will you
take me, madam?'
•That's not a fair question', says I, 'after what you have said; however,
lest you should think I wait only a recantation of it, I shall answer you
plainly, No, not I; my business is of another kind with you; and I did not
expect you would have turned my serious application to you, in my dis
tracted case, into a comedy.'
' Why, madam ', says he, ' my case is as distracted as yours can be, and
I stand in as much need of advice as you do, for I think if I have not
relief somewhere I shall be mad myself, and I know not what course to
take, I protest to you.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 73
•Why, sir', says I, "tis easier to give advice in your case than mine.'
•Speak, then', says he, 'I beg of you, for now you encourage me.'
'Why', says I, 'if your case is so plain, you may be legally divorced,
and then you may find honest women enough to ask the question of fairly;
the sex is not so scarce that you can want a wife.'
'Well, then', said he, 'I am in earnest; I'll take your advice; but shall
I ask you one question seriously beforehand?'
'Any question', said I; 'but that you did before.'
•No, that answer will not do', said he, 'for, in short, that is the
question I shall ask.'
'You may ask what questions you please, but you have my answer to
that already' said I; 'besides, sir', said I, 'can you think so ill of me as
that I would give any answer to such a question beforehand? Can any
woman alive believe you in earnest, or think you design anything but to
banter her?'
'Well, well', says he, 'I do not banter you, I am in earnest; consider
of it.'
'But, sir', says I, a little gravely, 'I came to you about my own business;
I beg of you to let me know what you will advise me to do?'
'I will be prepared', says he, 'against you come again.'
* Nay ', says I, ' you have forbid my coming any more.'
'Why so?' said he, and looked a little surprised.
'Because', said I, 'you can't expect I should visit you on the account
you talk of.'
'Well', says he, 'you shall promise to come again, however, and I will
not say any more of it till I have the divorce. But I desire you'll prepare
to be better conditioned when that's done, for you shall be the woman,
or I will not be divorced at all , I owe it to your unlooked-for kindness,
if to nothing else, but I have other reasons too.'
He could not have said anything in the world that pleased me better;
however, I knew that the way to secure him was to stand off while the
thing was so remote, as it appeared to be, and that it was time enough
to accept of it when he was able to perform it. So I said very respect
fully to him, it was time enough to consider of these things when he was
in a condition to talk of them; in the meantime, I told him, I was going
a great way from him, and he would find objects enough to please him
better. We broke off here for the present, and he made me promise him
to come again the next day, for my own business, which after some
pressing I did; though had he seen farther into me, I wanted no pressing
on that account.
I came the next evening accordingly, and brought my maid with me,
to let him see that I kept a maid. He would have had me let the maid
have stayed, but I would not, but ordered her aloud to come for me again
about nine o'clock. But he forbid that, and told me he would see me
safe home, which 1 was not very well pleased with, supposing he might
do that to know where I lived, and inquire into my character and cir
cumstances. However, I ventured that, for all the people there knew of
me was to my advantage; and all the character he had of me was, that I
was a woman of fortune, and that I was a very modest, sober body ; which,
whether true or not in the main, yet you may see how necessary it is for
all women who expect anything in the world, to preserve the character of
their virtue, even when perhaps they may have sacrificed the thing itself.
74 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I found, and was not a little pleased with it, that he had provided a
supper for me. I found also he lived very handsomely, and had a house
very handsomely fnrnished, and which I was rejoiced at indeed, for I
looked upon it as all my own.
We had now a second conference upon the subject-matter of the last.
He laid his business very home indeed ; he protested his affection to me,
and indeed I had no room to doubt it; he declared that it began from
the first moment I talked with him, and long before I had mentioned
leaving my effects with him. ''Tis no matter when it began' thought I;
•if it will but hold, 'twill be well enough.' He then told me how much
the offer I had made of trusting him with my effects had engaged him.
'So I intended it should', thought I, 'but then I thought you had been
a single man too.' After we had supped, I observed he pressed me very
hard to drink two or three glasses of wine, which, however, I declined,
but drank one glass or two. He then told me he had a proposal to make
to me, which I should promise him I would not take ill if I should not
grant it. I told him I hoped he would make no dishonourable proposal
to me, especially in his own house, and that, if it was such, I desired he
would not mention it, that I might not be obliged to offer any resentment
to him that did not become the respect I professed for him, and the trust
I had placed in him, in coming to his house; and begged of him he
would give me leave to go away, and accordingly began to put on my
gloves and prepare to be gone, though at the same time I no more
intended it than he intended to let me.
Well, he importuned me not to talk of going ; he assured me he was
very far from offering any such thing to me that was dishonourable, and,
if I thought so, he would choose to say no more of it.
That part I did not relish at all. I told him I was ready to hear
anything that he had to say, depending that he would say nothing unworthy
of himself, or unfit for me to hear. Upon this, he told me his proposal
was this: that I would marry him, though he had not yet obtained the
divorce from the whore his wife; and, to satisfy me that he meant
honourably, he would promise not to desire me to live with him, or go
to bed to him till the divorce was obtained. My heart said Yes to this
offer at first word, but it was necessary to play the hypocrite a little
more with him; so I seemed to decline the motion with some warmth as
unfair, told him that such a proposal could be of no signification but to
entangle us both in great difficulties ; for, if he should not at last obtain
the divorce, yet we could not dissolve the marriage, neither could we
proceed in it; so that, if he was disappointed in the divorce, I left him
to consider what a condition we should both be in.
In short, I carried on the argument against this so far, that I convinced
him it was not a proposal that had any sense in it; then he went from
it to another, viz. that I would sign and seal a contract with him, con
ditioning to marry him as soon as the divorce was obtained, and to be
void if he could not get it.
I told him that was more rational than the other; but as this was the
first time that ever I could imagine him weak enough to be in earnest,
I did not use to say yes at first asking; I would consider of it. I played
with this lover as an angler does with a trout: I found I had him fast
on the hook ; so I jested with his new proposal, and put him off. I told
him he knew little of me, and bade him inquire about me; I let him also
THE FORTUNES '.ND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 7$
go home with me to my lodging, though I would not ask him to go in,
for I told him it was not decent.
In short, I ventured to avoid signing a contract, and the reason why I
did it was because the lady that had invited me to go with her into
Lancashire insisted so positively upon it, and promised me such great
fortunes and fine things there, that I was tempted to go and try. 'Perhaps',
said I, 'I may mend myself very much'; and then I made no scruple of
quiting my honest citizen, whom I was not so much in love with as not
to leave him for a richer.
In a word, I avoided a contract; but told him I would go into the
north, that he would know where to write to me by the business I had
intrusted him with ; that I would give him a sufficient pledge of my respect
for him, for I would leave almost all I had in the world in his hands;
and I would thus far give him my word, that as soon as he had sued
out the divorce, if he would send me an account of it, I would come up
to London, and that then we would talk seriously of the matter.
It was a base design I went with, that I must confess, though I was
invited thither with a design much worse, as the sequel will discover.
Well, I went with my friend, as I called her, into Lancashire. All the
way we went she caressed me with the utmost appearance of a sincere,
unassembled affection; treated me, except my coach-hire, all the way; and
her brother brought a gentleman's coach to Warrington to receive us, and
we were carried from thence to Liverpool with as much ceremony as I
could desire.
We were also entertained at a merchant's house in Liverpool three or
four days very handsomely; I forbear to tell his name, because of what
followed. Then she told me she would carry me to an uncle's house of
hers where we should be nobly entertained; and her uncle, as she called
him, sent a coach and four horses for us, and we were carried near forty
miles I know not whither.
We came, however, to a gentleman's seat, where was a numerous family,
a large park, extraordinary company indeed, and where she was called
cousin. I told her, if she had resolved to bring me into such company
as this, she should have let me have furnished myself with better clothes.
The ladies took notice of that, and told me very genteelly they did not
value people in their own country so much by their clothes as they did
in London ; that their cousin had fully informed them of my quality, and
that I did not want clothes to set me off; in short, they entertained me
not like what I was, but like what they thought I had been, namely, a
widow lady of a great fortune.
The first discovery I made here was, that the family were all Roman
Catholics, and the cousin too; however nobody in the world could behave
better to me, and I had all the civility shown that I could have had if I
had been of their opinion. The truth is, I had not so much principle of
any kind as to be nice in point of religion; and I presently learned to
speak favourably of the Romish Church; particularly, 1 told them I saw
little but the prejudice of education in all the differences that were among
Christians about religion, and if it hiid so happened that my father had
been a Roman Catholic, 1 doubted not but I should have been as well
pleased with their religion as my own.
This obliged them in the highest degree, and as I was besieged day
and night with good company and pleasant discourse, so I had two or
76 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
three old ladies that lay at me upon the subject of religion too. I was
so complaisant that I made no scruple to be present at their mass, and
to conform to all their gestures as they showed me the pattern, but I
would not come too cheap; so that I only in the main encouraged them
to expect that I would turn Roman Catholic if I was instructed in the
Catholic doctrine, as they called itj and so the matter rested.
I stayed here about six weeks; and then my conductor led me back to
a country village, about six miles from Liverpool, where her brother, as
she called him, came to visit me in his own chariot, with two footmen
in a good livery; and the next thing was to make love to me. As it
happened to me, one would think I could not have been cheated, and
indeed I thought so myself, having a safe card at home, which I resolved
not to quit unless I could mend myself very much. However, in all
appearance this brother was a match worth my listening to, and the
least his estate was valued at was £1000 a year, but the sister said
it was worth £1500 a year, and lay most of it in Ireland.
I that was a great fortune, and passed for such, was above being asked
how much my estate was; and my false friend, taking it upon a foolish
hearsay, had raised it from £500 to £5000, and by the time she came
into the country she called it £15,000. The Irishman, for such I under
stood him to be, was stark mad at this bait; in short, he courted me,
made me presents, and ran in debt like a madman for the expenses of his
courtship. He had, to give him his due, the appearance of an extra
ordinary fine gentleman ; he was tall, well-shaped, and had an extraordinary
address ; talked as naturally of his park and his stables, of his horses, his
gamekeepers, his woods, his tenants, and his servants, as if he had been
in a mansion-house, and I had seen them all about me.
He never so much as asked me about my fortune or estate, but assured
me that when we came to Dublin he would jointure me in £600 a year
in good land, and that he would enter into a deed of settlement, or con
tract, here for the performance of it,
This was such language indeed as I had not been used to, and I was
here beaten out of all my measures ; I had a she-devil in my bosom, every
hour telling me how great her brother lived. One time she would come
for my orders, how I would have my coach painted, and how lined; and
another time, what clothes my page should wear: in short, my eyes were
dazzled, I had now lost my power of saying no, and, to cut the story short, I
consented to be married ; but to be more private, we were carried farther
into the country and married by a priest, which I was assured would
marry us as effectually as a Church of England parson.
I cannot say but I had some reflections in this affair upon the dishonour
able forsaking my faithful citizen, who loved me sincerely, and who was
endeavouring to quit himself of a scandalous whore by whom he had been
barbarously used, and promised himself infinite happiness in his new
choice; which choice was now giving up herself to another in a manner
almost as scandalous as hers could be.
But the glittering show of a great estate and of fine things which the
deceived creature that was now my deceiver represented every hour to my
imagination hurried me away, and gave me no time to think of London,
or of anything there, much less of the obligation I had to a person of
infinitely more real merit than what was now before me.
But the thing was done; I was now in the arms of my new spouse,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 77
who appeared still the same as before; great even to magnificence, and
nothing less than a thousand pounds a year could support the ordinary
equipage he appeared in.
After we had been married about a month, he began to talk of my going
to West Chester in order to embark for Ireland. However, he did not
hurry me, for we stayed near three weeks longer, and then he sent to
Chester for a coach to meet us at the Black Rock, as they call it, over
against Liverpool. Thither we went in a fine boat they call a pinnace,
with six oars ; his servants, and horses, and baggage going in a ferry-boat.
He made his excuse to me, that he had no acquaintance at Chester, but
he would go before and get some handsome apartments for me at a
private house. I asked him how long we should stay at Chester. He said,
not at all, any longer than one night or two, but he would immediately
hire a coach to go to Holyhead. Then I told him he should by no means
give himself the trouble to get private lodgings for one night or two, for
that Chester being a great place, I made no doubt but there would be
very good inns and accommodation enough; so we lodged at an inn not
far from the Cathedral; I forget what sign it was at.
Here my spouse, talking of my going to Ireland, asked me it I had no
affairs to settle at London before we went off. I told him no, not of any
great consequence, but what might be done as well by letter from Dublin.
'Madam', says he very respectfully, 'I suppose the greatest part of your
estate, which my sister tell me is most of it in money in the Bank of
England, lies secure enough ; but in case it required transferring, or any
way altering its property, it might be necessary to go up to London and
settle those things before we went over.'
I seemed to look strange at it, and told him I knew not what he meant ;
that I had no effects in the Bank of England that I knew of, and I hoped
he could not say that I had ever told him I had. No, he said, I had not
told him so, but his sister had said the greatest part of my estate lay there;
' and I only mentioned it, my dear* , said he, ' that if there was any occa
sion to settle it, or order anything about it, we might not be obliged to
the hazard and trouble of another voyage back again' ; for, he added, that
he did not care to venture me too much upon the sea.
I was surprised at this talk, and began to consider what the meaning
of it must be ; and it presently occurred to me that my friend, who called
him brother, had represented me in colours which were not my due; and
I thought that I would know the bottom of it before I went out of
England, and before I should put myself into I know not whose hands in
a strange country.
Upon this I called his sister into my chamber the next morning, and
letting her know the discourse her brother and I had been upon, I con
jured her to tell me what she had said to him, and upon what foot it
what that she had made this marriage. She owned that she had told him
that I was a great fortune, and said that she was told so at London.
' Told so ? ', says I warmly ; ' did I ever tell you so ? ' ' No', she said, it
was true I never did tell her so, but I had said several times that what I
had was in my own disposal. 'I did so', returned I very quick, 'but I
never told you I had anything called a fortune; nor that I had £100, or
the value of £100, in the world. And how did it consist with my being
a fortune ', said I, ' that I should come here into the North of England
with you, only upon the account of living cheap ? ' At these words, which
7 8 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I spoke warm and high, my husband came into the room, and I desired
him to come in and sit down, for I had something of moment to say
before them both, which it was absolutely necessary he should hear.
He looked a little disturbed at the assurance with which I seemed to
speak it, and came and sat down by me, having first shut the door; upon
which I began, for I was very much provoked, and turning myself to
him, 'I am afraid', says I, 'my dear' (for I spoke with kindness on his
side), 'that you have a very great abuse put upon you, and an injury
done you never to be repaired in your marrying me, which, however, as
I have had no hand in it, I desire I may be fairly acquitted of it, and
that the blame may lie where it ought and nowhere else, for I wash my
hands of every part of it.' 'What injury can be done me, my dear', says
he, 'in marrying you? I hope it is, to my honour and advantage every
way.' 'I will soon explain it to you', says I, 'and I fear there will be no
reason to think yourself well used; but I will convince you, my dear',
says I again, 'that I have had no hand in it.'
He looked now scared and wild, and began, I believed, to suspect what
followed; however, looking towards me, and saying only, 'Go on', he sat
silent, as if to hear what I had more to say; so I went on. 'I asked you
last night', said I, speaking to him, 'if ever I made any boast to you of
my estate, or ever told you I had any estate in the Bank of England or
anywhere else, and you owned I had not, as is most true; and I desire
you will tell me here, before your sister, if ever I gave you any reason
from me to think so, or that ever we had any discourse about it ' ; and he
owned again I had not, but said 1 had appeared always as a woman of
fortune, and he depended on it that I was so, and hoped he was not
deceived. ' I am not inquiring whether you have been deceived ', said I ;
'I fear you have, and I too; but I am clearing myself from being concerned
in deceiving you. ' I have been now asking your sister if ever I told her
of any fortune or estate I had, or gave her any particulars of it ; and she
owns I never did. And pray madam', said I, 'be so just to me, to charge
me if you can, if ever I pretended to you that I had an estate; and why,
if I had, should I ever come down into this country with you on purpose
to spare that little I had, and live cheap?' She could not deny one
word, but said she had been told in London that I had a great fortune, and
that it lay in the Bank of England.
•And now, dear sir', said I, turning myself to my new spouse again,
'be so just to me as to tell me who has abused both you and me so
much as to make you believe I was a fortune, and prompt you to court
me to this marriage?' He could not speak a word, but pointed to her;
and, after some more pause, flew out in the most furious passion that ever
I saw a man in my life, cursing her, and calling her all the whores
and hard names he could think of; and that she had ruined him, declaring
that she had told him I had £15,000, and that she was to have £500 of
him for procuring this match for him. He then added, directing his
speech to me. that she was none of his sister, but had been his whore
for two years before; that she had had Jgioo of him in part of this
bargain, and that he was utterly undone if things were as I said; and in
his raving he swore he would let her heart's blood out immediately, which
frightened her and me too. She cried, said she had been told so in the
house where I lodged. But this aggravated him more than before, that
she should put so far upon him, and run things such a length upon no
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 79
other authority than a hearsay; and then, turning to me again, said very
honestly, he was afraid we were both undone ; ' for, to be plain, my dear,
I have no estate', says he; 'what little I had, this devil has made me run
out in putting me into this equipage,' She took the opportunity of his
being earnest in talking with me, and got out of the room, and I never
saw her more.
I was confounded now as much as he, and knew not what to say. I
thought many ways that I had the worst of it; but his saying he was
undone, and that he had no estate neither, put me into a mere distraction.
'Why', says I to him, 'this has been a hellish juggle, for we are married
here upon the foot of a double fraud: you are undone by the disappoint
ment, it seems; and if I had had a fortune I had been cheated too, for
you say you have nothing.'
'You would indeed have been cheated, my dear', says he, 'but you
would not have been undone, for £15,000 would have maintained us both
very handsomely in this country; and 1 had resolved to have dedicated
every groat of it to you; I would not have wronged you of a shilling,
and the rest I would have made up in my affection to you, and tenderness
of you, as long as I lived.'
This was very honest indeed, and I really believe he spoke as he intended,
and that he was a man that was as well qualified to make me happy, as
to his temper and behaviour, as any man ever was; but his having no
estate, and being run into debt on this ridiculous account in the country,
made all the prospect dismal and dreadful, and I knew not what to say
or what to think.
I told him it was very unhappy that so much love and so much good
nature as I discovered in him should be thus precipitated into misery;
that I saw nothing before us but ruin ; for, as to me, it was my unhappiness,
that what little I had was not able to relieve us a week, and with that I
pulled out a bankbill of £20 and eleven guineas, which I told him I had
saved out of my little income, and that by the account that creature had
given me of the way of living in that country, I expected it would maintain
me three or four years ; that if it was taken from me, I was left destitute,
and he knew what the condition of a woman must be if she had no
money in her pocket; however, I told him, if he would take it, there
it was.
He told me with great concern, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes,
that he would not touch it; that he abhorred the thoughts of stripping
me and making me miserable; that he had fifty guineas left, which was
all he had in the world, and he pulled it out and threw it down on the
table, bidding me take it, though he were to starve for want of it.
I returned, with the same concern for him, that I could not bear to
hear him talk so; that, on the contrary, if he could propose any probable
method of living, I would do anything that became me, and that I would
live as narrow as he could desire.
He begged of me to talk no more at that rate, for it would make him
distracted ; he said he was bred a gentleman, though he was reduced to a
low fortune, and that there was but one way left which he could think
of, and that would not do, unless I could answer him one question,
which, however, he said he would not press me to. I told him I would
answer it honestly; whether it would be to his satisfaction or no, that I
could not tell.
80 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
'Why, then, my dear, tell me plainly', says he, 'will the little you have
keep us together in any figure, or in any station or place, or will it not ? '
It was my happiness that I had not discovered myself or my circum
stances at all — no, not so much as my name ; and seeing there was nothing
to be expected from him, however good-humoured and however honest he
seemed to be, but to live on what I knew would soon be wasted, I
resolved to conceal everything but the bank bill and eleven guineas; and
I would have been very glad to have lost that and have been set down
where he took me up. I had indeed another bank bill about me of £30,
which was the whole of what I brought with me, as well to subsist on
in the country, as not knowing what might offer; because this creature,
the go-between that had thus betrayed us both, had made me believe
strange things of marrying to my advantage, and I was not willing to be
without money, whatever might happen. This bill I concealed, and that
made me the freer of the rest, in consideration of circumstances, for I
really pitied him heartily.
But to return to this question, I told him I never willingly deceived
him, and I never would. I was very sorry to tell him that the little I
had would not subsist us? that it was not sufficient to subsist me alone
in the south country, and that this was the reason that made me put
myself into the hands of that woman who called him brother, she having
assured me that I might board very handsomely at a town called Man
chester, where I had not yet been, for about £6 a year; and my whole
income not being above £15 a year, I thought I might live easy upon it,
and wait for better things.
He shook his head and remained silent, and a very melancholy evening
we had; however, we supped together, and lay together that night, and
when we had almost supped he looked a little better' and more cheerful,
and called for a bottle of wine. 'Come, my dear', says he, 'though the
case is bad, it is to no purpose to be dejected. Come, be as easy as you
can; I will endeavour to find out some way or other to live; it you can
but subsist yourself, that is better than nothing. I must try the world
again ; a man ought to think like a man ; to be discouraged is to yield
to the misfortune.' With this he filled a glass, and drank to me, holding
my hand all the while the wine went down, and protesting his main
concern was for me.
It was really a true, gallant spirit he was of, and it was the more
grievous to me. 'Tis something of relief even to be undone by a man of
honour, rather than by a scoundrel; but here the greatest disappointment
was on his side, for he had really spent a great deal of money, and it
was very remarkable on what poor terms she proceeded. First, the
baseness of the creature herself is to be observed, who, for the getting
jEioo herself, could be content to let him spend three or four more, though
perhaps it was all he had in the world, and more than all; when she
had not the least ground more than a little tea-table chat, to say that I
had any estate, or was a fortune, or the like. It is true the design of
deluding a woman of fortune, if I had been so, was base enough) the
putting the face of great things upon poor circumstances was a fraud, and
bad enough; but the case a little differed too, and that in his favour, for
he was not a rake that made a trade to delude women, and, as some
have done, get six or seven fortunes after one another, and then rifle and
run away from them; but he was already a gentleman, unfortunate and
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 8 1
low, but had lived well; and though, if I had had a fortune, I should
have been enraged at the slut for betraying me; yet really for the man, a
fortune would not have been ill bestowed on him, for he was a lovely
person indeed, of generous principles, good sense, and of abundance of
good humour.
We had a great deal close conversation that night, for we neither of us
slept much ; he was as penitent for having put all those cheats upon me
as if it had been felony, and that he was going to execution; he offered
me again every shilling of the money he had about him, and said he
would go into the army and seek for more.
I asked him why he would be so unkind to carry me into Ireland,
when I might suppose he could not have subsisted me there. He took
me in his arms. 'My dear', said he, 'I never designed to go to Ireland
at all, much less to have carried you thither, but came hither to be out
of the observation of the people, who had heard what I pretended to,
and that nobody might ask me for money before I was furnished to
supply them.'
'But, where then', said I, 'were we to have gone next?'
'Why, my dear', said he, 'I'll confess the whole scheme to you as I
had laid it: I purposed here to ask you something about your estate, as
you see I did, and when you, as I expected you would, had entered into
some account of the particulars, I would have made an excuse to have
put off our voyage to Ireland for some time, and so have gone for
London. Then, my dear', says he, 'I resolved to have confessed all the
circumstances of my own affairs to you, and let you know I had indeed
made use of these artifices to obtain your consent to marry me, but had
now nothing to do but to ask your pardon, and to tell you how abundantly
I would endeavour to make you forget what was past, by the felicity of
the days to come.'
•Truly', said I to him, 'I find you would soon have conquered me;
and it is my affliction now that I am not in a condition to let you see
how easily I should have been reconciled to you, and have passed by all
the tricks you had put upon me, in recompense of so much good humour.
But, my dear', said I, 'what can we do now? We are both undone; and
what better are we for our being reconciled, seeing we have nothing to
live on?'
Wre proposed a great many things, but nothing could offer where there
was nothing to begin with. He begged me at last to talk no more of it,
for, he said, I would break his heart; so we talked of other things a
little, till at last he took a husband's leave of me, and so went to sleep.
He rose before me in the morning; and, indeed, having lain awake
almost all night, I was very sleepy, and lay till near eleven o'clock./ In
this time he took his horses, and three servants, and all his linen and
baggage, and away he went, leaving a short but moving letter for me on
the table, as follows:
MY DEAR, I am a dog; I have abused you; but I have been drawn in to do it by
a base creature, contrary to my principle and the general practice of my life. Forgive
me, my dear! I ask you pardon with the greatest sincerity; I ain the most miserable
of men, in having deluded you. I have been so happy to possess you, and am now so
wretched as to be forced to fly from you. Forgive me, my dear; once more I say,
forgive me! I am not able to see you ruined by me, and myself unable to support
you. Our marriage is nothing; I shall never be able to see you again; I here discharge
you from it; if you can marry to your advantage, do not decline it on my account.
6
82 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I here swear to you on my faith, and on the word of a man of honour, I will never
disturb your repose if I should know of it, which, however, is not likely. On the
other hand, if you should not marry, and if good fortune should befall me, it shall
be all yours, wherever you are.
I have put some of the stock of money I have left into your pocket; take places
for yourself and your maid in the stage-coach, and go for London. I hope it will bear
your charges thither, without breaking into your own. Again I sincerely ask your
pardon, and will do so as often as I shall ever think of you. Adieu, my dear, for
ever! — I am, yours most affectionately, J. E.
Nothing that ever befell me in my life sank so deep into my heart as
this farewell. I reproached him a thousand times in my thoughts for
leaving me, for I would have gone with him through the world, if I had
begged my bread. I felt in my pocket, and there I found ten guineas,
his gold watch, and two little rings, one a small diamond ring, worth
only about £6, and the other a plain gold ring.
I sat down and looked upon these things two hours together^ and scarce
spoke a word, till my maid interrupted me by telling me my dinner was
ready. I ate but little, and after dinner I fell into a violent fit of crying./
every now and then calling him by his name, which was James. 'O
Jemmy!' said I, 'come back, come back. I'll give you all I have; I'll
beg, I'll starve with you.' And thus I ran raving about the room several
times, and then sat down between whiles, and then walked about again,
called upon him to come back, and then cried again; and thus I passed
the afternoon, till about seven o'clock, when it was near dusk in the
evening, being August, when, to my unspeakable surprise, he comes back
into the inn, and comes directly up into my chamber.
I was in the greatest confusion imaginable, and so was he too. I could
not imagine what should be the occasion of it, and began to be at odds
with myself whether to be glad or sorry ; but my affection biassed all the
rest, and it was impossible to conceal my joy, which was too great for
smiles, for it burst out into tears. He was no sooner entered the room,
but he ran to me and took me in his arms, holding me fast, and almost
stopping my breath with his kisses, but spoke not a word. At length I
began, 'My dear', said I, how could you go away from me?' — to which
he gave no answer, for it was impossible for him to speak.
When our ecstasies were a little over, he told me he was gone above
fifteen miles, but it was not in his power to go any farther without coming
back to see me again and to take his leave of me once more.
I told him how I had passed my time, and how loud I had called him
to come back again. He told me he heard me very plain upon Delamere
Forest, at a place about twelve miles off. I smiled. 'Nay', says he, 'do
not think I am in jest, for if ever I heard your voice in my life, I heard
you call me aloud, and sometimes I thought I saw you running after me.'
•Why', said I, 'what did I say?', for I had not named the words to him.
•You called aloud', says he, 'and said, "O Jemmy ! O Jemmy ! come back,
come back".'
I laughed at him. 'My dear', says he, 'do not laugh, for, depend upon
It, I heard your voice as plain as you hear mine now; if you please, I'll
go before a magistrate and make oath of it.' I then began to be amazed
and surprised, and indeed frighted, and told him what I had really done,
and how I had called after him, as above. When we had amused our
selves a while about this, I said to him, 'Well, you shall go away from
me no more; I'll go all over the world with you rather.' He told me it
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 83
would be a very difficult thing for him to leave me, but since it must
be, he hoped I would make it as easy to me as I could $ but as for him,
it would be his destruction, that he foresaw.
However, he told me that he had considered he had left me to travel
to London alone, which was a long journey; and that as he might as well
go that way as any way else, he was resolved to see me hither, or near
it; and if he did go away then without taking his leave, I should not
take it ill of him; and this he made me promise.
He told me how he had dismissed his three servants, sold their horses,
and sent the fellows away to seek their fortunes, and all in a little time,
at a town on the road, I know not where; 'and', says he, 'it cost me
some tears all alone by myself, to think how much happier they were
than their master, for they could go to the next gentleman's house to see
for a service, whereas', said he, 'I knew not whither to go, or what to
do with myself.'
I told him I was so completely miserable in parting with him, that I
could not be worse; and that now he was come again, I would not go
from him, if he would take me with him, let him go whither he would.
And in the meantime I agreed that we would go together to London ; but
I could not be brought to consent he should go away at last and not
take his leave of me, but told him, jesting, that if he did, I would call
him back again as loud as I did before. Then I pulled out his watch,
and gave it him back, and his two rings, and his ten guineas; but he
would not take them, which made me very much suspect that he resolved
to go off upon the road, and leave me.
The truth is, the circumstances he was in, the passionate expressions of
his letter, the kind, gentlemanly treatment I had from him in all the affair,
with the concern he showed for me in it, his manner of parting with that
large share which he gave me of his litile stock left — all these had joined
to make such impressions on me, that I could not bear the thoughts of
parting with him.
Two days after this we quitted Chester, I in the stage-coach, and he
on horseback. I dismissed my maid at Chester. He was very much against
my being without a maid, but she being hired in the country (keeping no
servant at London), I told him it would have been barbarous to have
taken the poor wench, and hare turned her away as soon as I came to
town; and it would also have been a needless charge on the road; so I
satisfied him, and he was easy on that score.
He came with me as far as Dunstable, within thirty miles of London,
and then he told me fate and his own misfortunes obliged him to leave
me, and that it was not convenient for him to go to London, for reasons
which it was of no value to me to know, and I saw him preparing to go.
The stage-coach we were in did not usually stop at Dunstable, but I
desiring it for a quarter of an hour, they were content to stand at an
inn-door a while, and we went into the house.
Being in the inn, I told him I had but one favour more to ask him,
and that was, that since he could not go any farther, he would give me
leave to stay a week or two in the town with him, that we might in that
time think of something to prevent such a ruinous thing to us both as
a final separation would be ; and that I had something of moment to offer
to him, which perhaps he might find practicable to our advantage.
This was too reasonable a proposal to be denied, so he called the land-
84 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
lady of the house, and told her his wife was taken ill, and so ill that she
could not think of going any farther in a stage-coach, which had tired
her almost to death, and asked if she could not get us a lodging for two
or three days in a private house, where I might rest me a little, for the
journey had been too much for me. The landlady, a good sort of a woman,
well-bred, and very obliging, came immediately to see me; told me she
had two or three very good rooms in a part of the house quite out of the
noise, and if I saw them she did not doubt but I would like them, and
I should have one of her maids, that should do nothing else but wait on
me. This was so very kind, that I could not but accept of it; so I went
to look on the rooms, and liked them very well, and indeed they were
extraordinarily furnished, and very pleasant lodgings ; so we paid the stage
coach, took out our baggage, and resolved to stay here a while.
Here I told him I would live with him now till all my money was
spent, but would not let him spend a shilling of his own. We had some
kind squabble about that, but I told him it was the last time I was like
to enjoy his company, and I desired that he would let me be master in
that thing only, and he should govern in everything else 5 so he acquiesced.
Here one evening, taking a walk into the fields, I told him I would
now make the proposal to him I had told him of; accordingly I related
to him how I had lived in Virginia, that I had a mother I believed was
alive there still, though my husband was dead some years. I told him
that had not my effects miscarried, which, by the way, I magnified pretty
much, I might have been fortune good enough to him to have kept us from
being parted in this manner. Then I entered into the manner of people's
settling in those countries, how they had a quantity of land given them by
the constitution of the place; and if not, that it might be purchased at so
easy a rate that it was not worth naming.
I then gave him a full and distinct account of the nature of planting;
how with carrying over but two or three hundred pounds' value in English
goods, with some servants and tools, a man of application would presently
lay a foundation for a family, and in a few years would raise an estate.
I let him into the nature of the product of the earth, how the ground
was cured and prepared, and what the usual increase of it was; and
demonstrated to him, that in a very few years, with such a beginning, we
should be as certain of being rich as we were now certain of being poor.
He was surprised at my discourse} for we made it the whole subject of
our conversation for near a week together, in which time I laid it down
in black and white, as we say, that it was morally impossible, with a
supposition of any reasonable good conduct, but that we must thrive there
and do very well.
Then I told him what measures I would take to raise such a sum as
£ 300, or thereabouts; and I argued with him how good a method it
would be to put an end to our misfortunes, and restore our circumstances
in the world, to what we had both expected ; and I added, that after seven
years we might be in a posture to leave onr plantation in good hands,
and come over again and receive the income of it, and live here and
enjoy it; and I gave him examples of some that had done so, and lived
now in very good figure in London.
In short, I pressed him so to it, that he almost agreed to it, but still
something or other broke it off; till at last he turned the tables, and began
to talk almost to the same purpose of Ireland.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 85
He told me that a man that could confine himself to a country life, and
that could but find stock to enter upon any land, should have farms there
for £ 50 a year, as good as were let here for £ 200 a year ; that the
produce was such, and so rich the land, that if much was not laid up,
we were sure to live as handsomely upon it as a gentleman of £> 3000 a
year could do in England ; and that he had laid a scheme to leave me in
London, and go over and try; and if he found he could lay a handsome
foundation of living, suitable to the respect he had for me, as he doubted
not he should do, he would come over and fetch me.
I was dreadfully afraid that upon such a proposal he would have taken
me at my word, viz. to turn my little income into money, and let him
carry it over into Ireland and try his experiment with it ; but he was too
just to desire it, or to have accepted it if I had offered it; and he anti
cipated me in that, for he added, that he would go and try his fortune
that way, and if he found he could do anything at it to live, then by
adding mine to it when I went over, we should live like ourselves; but
that he would not hazard a shilling of mine till he had made the experi
ment with a little, and he assured me that if he found nothing to be done
in Ireland, he would then come to me and join in my project for Virginia.
He was so earnest upon his project being to be tried first, that I could
not withstand him ; however, he promised to let me hear from him in a
very little time after his arriving there, to let me know whether his
prospect answered his design, that if there was not a probability of
success, I might take the occasion to prepare for our other voyage, and
then, he assured me, he would go with me to America with all
his heart.
I could bring him to nothing further than this, and which entertained us
near a month, during which I enjoyed his company, which was the most
entertaining that ever I met with in my life before. In this time he let
me into part of the story of his own life, which was indeed surprising,
and full of an infinite variety, sufficient to fill up a much brighter history,
for its adventures and incidents, than any I ever saw in print; but I shall
have occasion to say more of him hereafter.
We parted at last, though with the utmost reluctance on my side; and
indeed he took his leave very unwillingly too, but necessity obliged him,
for his reasons were very good why he would not come to London, as I
understood more fully afterwards.
I gave him a direction how to write to me, though still I reserved the
grand secret, which was not to let him ever know my true name, who I
was, or where to be found ; he likewise let me know how to write a letter
to him, so that he said he would be sure to receive it.
I came to London the next day after we parted, but did not go directly
to my old lodgings, but for another nameless reason took a private lodging
in St John's Street, or, as it is vulgarly called, St Jones's, near Clerken-
well ; and here, being perfectly alone, I had leisure to sit down and reflect
seriously upon the last seven months' ramble I had made, for I had been
abroad no less. The pleasant hours I had with my last husband I looked
back on with an infinite deal of pleasure; but that pleasure was very much
lessened when I found some time after that I was really with child.
This was a perplexing thing, because of the difficulty which was before
me where I should get leave to lie in, it being one of the nicest things
in the world at that time of day for a woman that was a stranger, and
86 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
had no friends, to be entertained in that circumstance without security,
which I had not, neither could I procure any.
I had taken care all this while to preserve a correspondence with my
friend at the bank, or rather he took care to correspond with me, for he
wrote to me once a weekj and though I had not spent my money so fast
as to want any from him, yet I often wrote also to let him know I was
alive. I had left directions in Lancashire, so that I had these letters con
veyed to me ; and during my recess at St Jones's I received a very obliging
letter from him, assuring me that his process for a divorce went on with
success, though he met with some difficulties in it that he did not expect.
I was not displeased with the news that his process was more tedious
than he expected ; for though I was in no condition to have had him yet,
not being so foolish to marry him when I knew myself to be with child
by another man, as some I know have ventured to do, yet I was not will
ing to lose him, and, in a word, resolved to have him, if he continued in
the same mind, as soon as I was up again ; for I saw apparently I should
hear no more from my other husband; and as he had all along pressed
me to marry, and had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at it,
or ever offer to claim me again, so I made no scruple to resolve to do it
if I could, and if my other friend stood to his bargain ; and I had a great
deal of reason to be assured that he would, by the letters he wrote to me,
which were the kindest and most obliging that could be.
I now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it, and began
to take notice of it to me, and as far as civility would allow, intimated
that I must think of removing. This put me to extreme perplexity, and I
grew very melancholy, for indeed I knew not what course to take; I had
money, but no friends, and was like now to have a child upon my hands
to keep, which was a difficulty I had never had upon me yet, as my story
hitherto makes appear.
In the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy really
increased my distemper. My illness proved at length to be only an ague,
but my apprehensions were really that I should miscarry. I should not
say apprehensions, for indeed I would have been glad to miscarry, but I
could never entertain so much as a thought of taking anything to make me
miscarry; I abhorred, I say, so much as the thought of it.
However, speaking of it, the gentlewoman who kept the house proposed
to me to send for a midwife. I scrupled it at first, but after some time
consented, but told her I had no acquaintance with any midwife, and so
left it to her.
It seems the mistress of the house was not so great a stranger to such
cases as mine was as I thought at first she had been, as will appear
presently ; and she sent for a midwife of the right sort — that is to say, the
right sort for me.
The woman appeared to be an experienced woman in her business, I
mean as a midwife ; but she had another calling too, in which she was as
expert as most women, if not more. My landlady had told her I was very
melancholy, and that she believed that had done me harm ; and once, be
fore me, said to her, 'Mrs B , I believe this lady's trouble is of a kind
that is pretty much in your way, and therefore if you can do anything for
her, pray do, for she is a very civil gentlewoman'; and so she went out
of the room.
I really did not understand her, but my Mother Midnight began very
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 87
seriously to explain what she meant, as soon as she was gone. 'Madam',
says she, 'you seem not to understand what your landlady means; and
when you do, you need not let her know at all that you do so.'
' She means that you are under some circumstances that may render your
lying-in difficult to you, and that you are not willing to be exposed. I
need say no more, but to tell you, that if you think fit to communicate so
much of your case to me as is necessary, for I do not desire to pry into
those things, I perhaps may be in a condition to assist you, and to make
you easy, and remove all your dull thoughts upon that subject.'
Every word this creature said was a cordial to me, and put new life
and new spirit into my very heart; my blood began to circulate immedi
ately, and I was quite another body; I ate my victuals again, and grew
better presently after it. She said a great deal more to the same purpose,
and then having pressed me to be free with her, and promised in the
solemnest manner to be secret, she stopped a little, as if waiting to see
what impression it made on me, and what I would say.
I was too sensible of the want I was in of such a woman not to accept
her offer; I told her my case was partly as she guessed, and partly not,
for I was really married, and had a husband, though he was so remote at
that time as that he could not appear publicly.
She took me short, and told me that was none of her business ; all the
ladies that came under her care were married women to her. 'Every
woman', says she, 'that is with child has a father for it', and whether
that father was a husband or no husband was no business of hers ; her
business was to assist me in my present circumstances, whether I had a
husband or no; 'for, madam', says she, 'to have a husband that cannot
appear is to have no husband, and therefore whether you are a wife or a
mistress is all one to me.'
I found presently, that, whether I was a whore or a wife, I was to pass
for a whore here; so I let that go. I told her it was true, as she said,
but that, however, if I must tell her my case, I must tell it her as it was ;
so I related it as short as I could, and I concluded it to her. 'I trouble
you with this, madam', said I, 'not that, as you said before, it is much
to the purpose in your affair; but this is to the purpose, namely, that I
am not in any pain about being seen, or being concealed, for 'tis perfectly
indifferent to me; but my difficulty is, that I have no acquaintance in this
part of the nation.'
' I understand you, madam ', says she ; ' you have no security to bring to
prevent the parish impertinences usual in such cases, and perhaps', says
she, ' do not know very well how to dispose of the child when it comes.'
'The last', says I, 'is not so much my concern as the first/ 'Well, madam',
answers the midwife, ' dare you put yourself into my hands ? I live in such
a place ; though I do not inquire after you, you may inquire after me. My
name is B ; I live in such a street' — naming the street — 'at the sign
of The Cradle. My profession is a midwife, and I have many ladies that
come to my house to lie in. I have given security to the parish in general
to secure them from any charge from what shall come into the world under
my roof. I have but one question to ask in the whole affair, madam ',
says she, 'and if that be answered, you shall be entirely easy of the rest.'
I presently understood what she meant, and told her, ' Madam, I believe
I understand you. I thank God, though I want friends in this part of the
world, I do not want money, so far as may be necessary, though I do not
88 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
abound in that neither': this I added, because I would not make her
expect great things, 'Well, madam*, says she, 'that is the thing, indeed,
without which nothing can be done in these cases; and yet', says she,
•you shall see that I will not impose upon you, or offer anything that is
unkind to you, and you shall know everything beforehand, that you may
suit yourself to the occasion, and be either costly or sparing as you see fit.'
I told her she seemed to be so perfectly sensible of my condition, that
I had nothing to ask of her but this, that as I had money sufficient, but
not a great quantity, she would order it so that I might be at as little
superfluous charge as possible.
She replied, that she should bring in an account of the expenses of it
in two or three shapes; I should choose as I pleased; and I desired her
to do so.
The next day she brought it, and the copy of her three bills was as
follows :
i. For three months' lodging in her house, including my diet, at IDS.
a week 6
a. For a nurse for the month, and use of childbed linen x
3. For a minister to christen the child, and to the godfathers and clerk i
4. For a supper at the christening if I had five friends at it ... i
For her fees as a midwife, and the taking off the trouble of the
parish 3
To her maidservant attending o
This was the first bill; the second was in the same terms:
£ j.
i. For three months' lodging and diet, &c., at 208. per week ... 12 o
a. For a nurse for the month, and the use of linen and lace ... 2 10
3. For the minister to christen the child, &c., as above a o
4. For a supper, and for sweetmeats 3 3
For her fees as above 5 5
For a servant-maid i o
j£*5 18 o
This was the second-rate bill; the third, she said, was for a degree
higher, and when the father or friends appeared:
£ t. d,
1. For three months' lodging and diet, having two rooms and a garret
for a servant 30 o o
2. For a nurse for the month, and the finest suit of child-bed linen 440
3. For the minister to christen the child, &c. 2 10 o
4. For a supper, the gentlemen to send in the wine 6 o o
For my fees, &c 10 10 o
The maid, besides their own maid, only o 10 o
£53 *4 o
I looked upon all the three bills, and smiled, and told her I did not
see but that she was very reasonable in her demands, all things considered,
and I did not doubt but her accommodations were good.
She told me I should be a judge of that when I saw them. I told her
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 89
I was sorry to tell her that I feared I must be her lowest-rated customer;
'and perhaps, madam', said I, 'you will make me the less welcome upon
that account.' 'No, not at all', said she; 'for where I have one of the
third sort, I have two of the second and four of the first, and I get as
much by them in proportion as by any; but if you doubt my care of you,
I will allow any friend you have to see if you are well waited on or no.'
Thea she explained the particulars of her bill. 'In the first place,
madam', said she, 'I would have you observe that here is three months
keeping you at but IDS. a week; I undertake to say you will not complain
of my table. I suppose', says she, 'you do not live cheaper where you
are now?' 'No, indeed', said I, 'nor so cheap, for I give 6s. per week
for my chamber, and find my own diet, which costs me a great deal more.'
' Then, madam ', says she, ' If the child should not live, as it sometimes
happens, there is the minister's article saved ; and, if you have no friends
to come, you may save the expense of a supper; so that take those articles
out, madam', says she, 'your lying-in will not cost you above £5 -3s- rnore
than your ordinary charge of living.'
This was the most reasonable thing that I ever heard of; so I smiled,
and told her I would come and be a customer; but I told her also, that
as I had two months and more to go, I might perhaps be obliged to stay
longer with her than three months, and desired to know if she would not
be obliged to remove me before it was proper. ' No,' she said ; her house
was large, and besides, she never put anybody to remove, that had lain
in, till they were willing to go; and if she had more ladies offered, she
was not so ill-beloved among her neighbours but she could provide accom
modation for twenty, if there was occasion.
I found she was an eminent lady in her way, and, in short, I agreed
to put myself into her hands. She then talked of other things, looked
about into my accommodations where I was, found fault with my wanting
attendance sead conveniences, and that I should not be used so at her
house. I told her I was shy of speaking, for the woman of the house
looked stranger, or at least I thought so, since I had been ill, because I
was with child ; and I was afraid she would put some affront or other upon
me, supposing that I had been able to give but a slight account of myself.
'O dear', says she, 'her ladyship is no stranger to these things; she has
tried to entertain ladies in your condition, but could not secure the parish ;
and besides, such a nice lady, as you take her to be. However, since
you are a-going, you shall not meddle with her, but I'll see you are a
little better looked after while you are here, and it shall not cost you the
more neither.'
I did not understand her; however, I thanked her, so we parted. The
next morning she sent me a chicken roasted and hot, and a bottle of
sherry, and ordered the maid to tell me, that she was to wait on me every
day as long as I stayed there.
This was surprisingly good and kind, and I accepted it very willingly.
At night she sent to me again, to know if I wanted anything, and to
order the maid to come to her in the morning for dinner. The maid had
orders to make me some chocolate in the morning before she came away,
and at noon she brought me the sweetbread of a breast of veal, whole,
and a dish of soup for my dinner; and after this manner she nursed me
up at a distance, so that I was mightily well pleased, and quickly well,
for indeed my dejections before were the principal part of my illness.
90 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I expected, as is usually the case among such people, that the servant
she sent me would have been some impudent brazen wench of Drury
Lane breeding, and I was very uneasy upon that account ; so I would not
let her lie in the house the first night, but had my eyes about me as
narrowly as if she had been a public thief.
My gentlewoman guessed presently what was the matter, and sent her
back with a short note, that I might depend upon the honesty of her
maid; that she would be answerable for her upon all accounts; and that
she took no servants without very good security. I was then perfectly
easy; and indeed the maid's behaviour spoke for itself, for a modester,
quieter, soberer girl never came into anybody's family, and I found her
so afterwards.
As soon as I was well enough to go abroad, I went with the maid to
see the house, and to see the apartment I was to have; and everything
was so handsome and so clean, that, in short, I had nothing to say, but
was wonderfully pleased with what I had met with, which, considering
the melancholy circumstances I was in, was beyond what I looked for.
It might be expected that I should give some account of the nature of
the wicked practices of this woman, in whose hands I was now fallen;
but it would be but too much encouragement to the vice, to let the world
see what easy measures were here taken to rid the women's burthen of a
child clandestinely gotten. This grave matron had several sorts of practice,
and this was one, that if a child was born, though not in her house (for
she had the occasion to be called to many private labours), she had people
always ready, who for a piece of money would take the child off their
hands, and off from the hands of the parish too; and those children, as
she said, were honestly taken care of. What should become of them all,
considering so many, as by her account she was concerned with, I cannot
conceive.
I had many times discourses upon that subject with her; but she was
full of this argument, that she saved the life of many an innocent lamb,
as she called them, which would perhaps have been murdered; and of
many a woman, who, made desperate by the misfortune, would otherwise
be tempted to destroy their children. I granted her lhat this was true, and
a very commendable thing, provided the poor children fell into good
hands afterwards, and were not abused and neglected by the nurses. She
answered, that she always took care of that, and had no nurses in her
business but what were very good people, and such as might be depended
upon.
I could say nothing to the contrary, and so was obliged to say, ' Madam,
I do not question but you do your part, but what those people do is the
main question'; and she stopped my mouth again with saying she took
the utmost care about it.
The only thing I found in all her conversation on these subjects, that
gave me any distaste, was, that one time in discoursing about my being
to far gone with child, she said something that looked as if she could
help me off with my burthen sooner, if I was willing; or, in English,
that she could give me something to make me miscarry, if I had a desire
to put an end to my troubles that way; but I soon let her see that I
abhorred the thoughts of it; and, to do her justice, she put it off so
cleverly, that I could not say she really intended it, or whether she only
mentioned the practice as a horrible thing ; for she couched her words so
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 9!
well, and took my meaning so quickly, that she gave her negative before
I could explain myself.
To bring this part into as narrow a compass as possible, I quitted my
lodging at St Jones's, and went to my new governess, for so they called
her in the house, and there I was indeed treated with so much courtesy,
so carefully looked to, and everything so well, that I was surprised at it,
and could not at first see what advantage my governess made of it; but I
found afterwards that she professed to make no profit of the lodgers' diet,
nor indeed could she get much by it, but that her profit lay in the other
articles of her management, and she made enough that way, I assure
you; for 'tis scarce credible what practice she had, as well abroad as at
home, and yet all upon the private account, or, in plain English, the
whoring account.
While I was in her house, which was near four months, she had no
less than twelve ladies of pleasure brought to bed within doors, and I
think she had two-and-thirty, or thereabouts, under her conduct without
doors ; whereof one, as nice as she was with me, was lodged with my
old landlady at St Jones's.
This was a strange testimony of the growing vice of the age, and as
bad as I had been myself, it shocked my very sense ; I began to nauseate
the place I was in, and, above all, the practice; and yet I must say that
I never saw, or do I believe there was to be seen, the least indecency in
the house the whole time I was there.
Not a man was ever seen to come upstairs, except to visit the lying-in
ladies within their month, nor then without the old lady with them, who
made it a piece of the honour of her management that no man should
touch a woman, no, not his own wife, within the month; nor would she
permit any man to lie in the house upon any pretence whatever, no, not
though it was with his own wife; and her saying for it was, that she
cared not how many children were born in her house, but she would
have none got there if she could help it
It might perhaps be carried farther than was needful, but it was an
error of the right hand, if it was an error, for by this she kept up the
reputation, such as it was, of her business, and obtained this character,
that though she did take care of the women when they were debauched,
yet she was not instrumental to their being debauched at all; and yet it
was a wicked trade she drove too.
While I was here, and, before I was brought to bed, I received a letter
from my trustee at the bank, full of kind, obliging things, and earnestly
pressing me to return to London; it was near a fortnight old when it
came to me, because it had first been sent into Lancashire, and then
returned to me. He concluded with telling me that he had obtained a
decree against his wife, and that he would be ready to make good his
engagement to me, if I would accept of him, adding a great many pro
testations of kindness and affection, such as he would have been far from
offering if he had known the circumstances I had been in, and which, as
it was, I had been very far from deserving.
I returned an answer to this letter, and dated it at Liverpool, but sent
it by a messenger, alleging that it came in cover to a friend in town. I
gave him joy of his deliverance, but raised some scruples at the lawfulness
of his marrying again, and told him I supposed he would consider very
seriously upon that point before he resolved on it, the consequence being
92 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
too great for a man of his judgment to venture rashly upon ; so concluded
wishing him very well in whatever he resolved, without letting him into
anything of my own mind, or giving any answer to his proposal of my
coming to London to him, but mentioned at a distance my intention to
return the latter end of the year, this being dated in April.
I was brought to bed about the middle of May, and had another brave
boy, and myself in as good condition as usual on such occasions. My
governess did her part as a midwife with the greatest art and dexterity
imaginable, and far beyond all that ever I had had any experience of
before.
Her care of me in my travail, and after in my lying-in, was such, that
if she had been my own mother it could not have been better. Let none
be encouraged in their loose practices from this dexterous lady's manage
ment, for she has gone to her place, and I dare say has left nothing
behind her that can or will come up to it.
I think I had been brought to bed about twenty days, when I received
another letter from my friend at the bank, with the surprising news that
he had obtained a final sentence of divorce against his wife, and had
served her with it on such a day, and that he had such an answer to
give to all my scruples about his marrying again as I could not expect,
and as he had no desire of; for that his wife, who had been under some
remorse before for her usage of him, as soon as she heard that he had
gained his point, had very unhappily destroyed herself that same evening.
He expressed himself very handsomely as to his being concerned at her
disaster, but cleared himself of having any hand in it, and that he had
only done himself justice in a case in which he was notoriously injured
and abused. However, he said that he was extremely afflicted at it, and
had no view of any satisfaction left in this world, but only in the hope
that I would come and relieve him by my company ; and then he pressed
me violently indeed to give him some hopes, that I would at least come
up to town and let him see me, when he would further enter into dis
course about it.
I was exceedingly surprised at the news, and began now seriously to
reflect on my circumstances, and the inexpressible misfortune it was to
have a child upon my hands; and what to do in it knew not, At last I
opened my case at a distance to my governess; I appeared melancholy
for several days, and she lay at me continually to know what troubled me.
I could not for my life tell her that I had an offer of marriage, after I
had so often told her that I had a husband, so that I really knew not
what to say to her. I owned I had something which very much troubled
me, but at the same time told her I could not speak of it to any one alive.
She continued importuning me several days, but it was impossible, I
told her, for me to commit the secret to anybody. This, instead of being
an answer to her, increased her importunities ; she urged her having been
trusted with the greatest secrets of this nature, that it was her business
to conceal everything, and that to discover things of that nature would be
her ruin. She asked me if ever I had found her tattling of other people's
affairs, and how could I suspect her? She told me, to unfold myself to
her was telling it to nobody; that she was silent as death; that it must
be a very strange case indeed, that she could not help me out of; but to
conceal it was to deprive myself of all possible help, or means of help,
and to deprive her of the opportunity of serving me, In short, she had
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 93
such a bewitching eloquence, and so great a power of persuasion, that
there was no concealing anything from her.
So I resolved to unbosom myself to her. I told her the history of my
Lancashire marriage, and how both of us had been disappointed ; how we
came together, and how we parted; how he discharged me, as far as lay
in him, and gave me free liberty to marry again, protesting that if he knew
it he would never claim me, or disturb or expose me; that I thought I
was free, but was dreadfully afraid to venture, for fear of the consequences
that might follow in case of a discovery.
Then I told her what a good offer I had ; showed her my friend's letters,
inviting me to London, and with what affection they were written, but
blotted out the name, and also the story about the disaster of his wife,
only that she was dead.
She fell a-laughing at my scruples about marrying, and told me the
other was no marriage, but a cheat on both sides; and that, as we were
parted by mutual consent, the nature of the contract was destroyed, and
the obligation was mutually discharged. She had arguments for this at
the tip of her tongue; and, in short, reasoned me out of my reason; not
but that it was too by the help of my own inclination.
But then came the great and main difficulty, and that was the child;
this, she told me, must be removed, and that so as that it should never
be possible for any one to discover it. I knew there was no marrying
without concealing that I had had a child, for he would soon have dis
covered by the age of it, that it was born, nay, and gotten too, since my
parley with him, and that would have destroyed all the affair.
But it touched my heart so forcibly to think of parting entirely with
the child, and, for aught I knew, of having it murdered, or starved by
neglect and ill-usage, which was much the same, that I could not think of
it without horror. I wish all those women who consent to the disposing
their children out of the way, as it is called, for decency sake, would
consider that 'tig only a contrived method for murder; that is to say,
killing their children with safety.
It is manifest to all that understand anything of children, that we are
born into the world helpless, and uncapable either to supply our own
wants or so much as make them known; and that without help we must
perish; and this help requires not only an assisting hand, whether of the
mother or somebody else, but there are two things necessary in that
assisting hand, that is, care and skill 5 without both which, half the children
that are born would die, nay, though they were not to be denied food,
and one-half more of those that remained would be cripples or fools, lose
their limbs, and perhaps their sense. I question not but that these are
partly the reasons why affection was placed by nature in the hearts of
mothers to their children ; without which they would never be able to give
themselves up, as 'tis necessary they should, to the care and waking pains
needful to the support of children.
Since this care is needful to the life of children, to neglect them is to
murder them ; again, to give them up to be managed by those people who
have none of that needful affection placed by nature in them, is to neglect
them in the highest degree; nay, in some it goes farther, and is in order
to their being lost; so that 'tis an intentional murder, whether the child
lives or dies,
All those things represented themselves to my view, and that in the
94 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
blackest and most frightful form ; and, as I was very free with my gover
ness, whom I had now learned to call mother, I represented to her all
the dark thoughts which I had about it, and told her what distress I was
in. She seemed graver by much at this part than at the other; but as she
was hardened in these things beyond all possibility of being touched with
the religious part, and the scruples about the murder, so she was equally
impenetrable in that part which related to affection. She asked me if she
had not been careful and tender of me in my lying-in, as if I had been
her own child. I told her I owned she had. 'Well, my dear', says she,
'and when you are gone, what are you to me? And what would it be to me
if you were to be hanged? Do you think there are not women who, as it
is their trade, and they get their bread by it, value themselves upon their
being as careful of children as their own mothers? Yes, yes, child', says
she, ' fear it not ; how were we nursed ourselves ? Are you sure you were
nursed up by your own mother? and yet you look fat and fair, child',
says the old beldam; and with that she stroked me over the face. 'Never
be concerned, child', says she, going on in her drolling way; 'I have no
murderers about me; I employ the best nurses that can be had, and have
as few children miscarry under their hands as there would if they were
all nursed by mothers; we want neither care nor skill.'
She touched me to the quick when she asked if I was sure that I was
nursed by my own mother; on the contrary, I was sure I was not; and
I trembled and looked pale at the very expression. Sure, said I to myself,
this creature cannot be a witch, or have any conversation with a spirit,
that can inform her what i was, before I was able to know it myself; and
I looked at her as if I had been frighted ; but reflecting that it could not
be possible for her to know anything about me, that went off, and I began
to be easy, but it was not presently.
She perceived the disorder I was in, but did not know the meaning of
it; so she ran on in her wild talk upon the weakness of my supposing
that children were murdered because they were not all nursed by the
mother, and to persuade me that the children she disposed of were as well
used as if the mothers had the nursing of them themselves.
' It may be true, mother ', says I, ' for aught I know, but my doubts are
very strongly grounded.' 'Come, then', says she, 'let's hear some of them.'
'Why, first', says I, 'you give a piece of money to these people to take
the child off the parent's hands, and to take care of it as long as it lives.
Now we know, mother ', said I, ' that those are poor people, and their gain
consists in being quit of the charge as soon as they can; how can I doubt
but that, as it is best for them to have the child die, they are not over
solicitous about its life?'
'This is all vapours and fancy', says she; 'I tell you their credit depends
upon the child's life, and they are as careful as any mother of you all.'
'O mother', says I, 'if I was but sure my little baby would be carefully
looked to, and have justice done it, I should be happy; but it is impossible
I can be satisfied in that point unless I saw it, and to see it would be
ruin and destruction, as my case now stands ; so what to do I know not.'
'A fine story!' says the governess. 'You would see the child, and you
would not see the child; you would be concealed and discovered both
together. These are things impossible, my dear, and so you must e'en do
as other conscientious mothers have done before you, and be contented
with things as they must be, though not as you wish them to be.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 95
I understood what she meant by conscientious mothers ; she would have
said conscientious whores, but she was not willing to disoblige me, for
really in this case I was not a whore, because legally married, the force
of my former marriage excepted.
However, let me be what I would, I was not come up to that pitch of
hardness common to the profession ; I mean, to be unnatural, and regard
less of the safety of my child; and I preserved this honest affection so
long, that I was upon the point of giving up my friend at the bank, who
lay so hard at me to come to him, and marry him, that there was hardly
any room to deny him.
At last my old governess came to me, with her usual assurance. ' Come,
my dear', says she, 'I have found out a way how you shall be at a cer
tainty that your child shall be used well, and yet the people that take care
of it shall never know you.'
'O mother', says I, 'if you can do so, you will engage me to you for
ever.' ' Well ', says she, ' are you willing to be at some small annual
expense, more than what we usually give to the people we contract with ? '
'Ay', says I, 'with all my heart, provided I may be concealed.' 'As to
that', says she, 'you shall be secure, for the nurse shall never dare to
inquire about you-, and you shall once or twice a year go with me and
see your child, and see how 'tis used, and be satisfied that it is in good
hands, nobody knowing who you are.'
' Why ', said I, ' do you think that when I come to see my child, I shall be able
to conceal my being the mother of it? Do you think that possible?'
' Well ', says she, ' if you discover it, the nurse shall be never the wiser ;
she shall be forbid to take any notice. If she offers it, she shall lose the
money which you are to be supposed to give her, and the child be taken
from her too.'
I was very well pleased with this. So the next week a countrywoman
was brought from Hertford, or thereabouts, who was to take the child off
our hands entirely, for £10 in money. But if I would allow £5 a year
more to her, she would be obliged to bring the child to my governess's
house as often as we desired, or we should come down and look at it,
and see how well she used it.
The woman was a very wholesome-looked, likely woman, a cottager's
wife, but she had very good clothes and linen, and everything well about
her; and with a heavy heart and many a tear, I let her have my child.
I had been down at Hertford, and looked at her and at her dwelling,
which I liked well enough ; and I promised her great things if she would
be kind to the child, so she knew at first word that I was the child's
mother. But she seemed to be so much out of the way, and to have no
room to inquire after me, that I thought I was safe enough. So, in short,
I consented to let her have the child, and I gave her JgiO; that is to say,
I gave it to my governess, who gave it the poor woman before my face,
she agreeing never to return the child to me, or to claim anything more
for its keeping, or bringing up ; only that I promised, if she took a great
deal of care of it, I would give her something more as often as I came to
see it; so that I was not bound to pay the £5, only that I promised my
governess I would do it. And thus my great care was over, after a man
ner, which, though it did not at all satisfy my mind, yet was the most
convenient for me, as my affairs then stood, of any that could be thought
of at that time.
96 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I then began to write to my friend at the bank in a more kindly style,
and particularly about the beginning of July I sent him a letter, that I
purposed to be in town some time in August. He returned me an answer
in the most passionate terms imaginable, and desired me to let him have
timely notice, and he would come and meet me two days' journey. This
puzzled me scurvily, and I did not know what answer to make to it.
Once I was resolved to take the stage-coach to West Chester, on purpose
only to have the satisfaction of coming back, that he might see me really
come in the same coach; for I had a jealous thought, though I had no
ground for it at all, lest he should think I was not really in the country,
I endeavoured to reason myself out of it, but it was in vain; the im
pression lay so strong on my mind, that it was not to be resisted. At
last it came as an addition to my new design of going into the country,
that it would be an excellent blind to my old governess, and would cover
entirely all my other affairs, for she did not know in the least whether
my new lover lived in London or in Lancashire ; and when I told her my
resolution; she was fully persuaded it was in Lancashire.
Having taken my measures for this journey, I let her know it, and sent
the maid that tended me from the beginning to take a place for me in the
coach. She would have had me let the maid have waited on me down
to the last stage, and come up again in the waggon, but I convinced her
it would not be convenient. When I went away, she told me she would
enter into no measures for correspondence, for she saw evidently that my
affection to my child would cause me to write to her, and to visit her too.
when I came to town again. I assured her it would, and so took my
leave, well satisfied to have been freed from such a house, however good
my accommodations there had been.
I took the place in the coach not to its full extent, but to a place called
Stone, in Cheshire, where I not only had no manner of business, but not
the least acquaintance with any person in the town. But I knew that
with money in the pocket one is at home anywhere; so I lodged there
two or three days, till, watching my opportunity, I found room in another
stage-coach, and took passage-back again for London, sending a letter to
my gentleman that I should be such a certain day at Stony Stratford, where
the coachman told me he was to lodge.
It happened to be a chance coach that I had taken up, which, having
been hired on purpose to carry some gentlemen to West Chester, who were
going for Ireland, was now returning, and did not tie itself up to exact
times or places, as the stages did; so that, having been obliged to lie still
on Sunday, he had time to get himself ready to come out, which otherwise
he could not have done.
His warning was so short, that he could not reach Stony Stratford time
enough to be with me at night, but he met me at a place called Brickhill
the next morning, just as we were coming into the town.
I confess I was very glad to see him, for I thought myself a little
disappointed over-night. He pleased me doubly too by the figure he came
in, for he brought a very handsome gentleman's coach and four horses,
with a servant to attend him.
He took me out of the stage-coach immediately, which stopped at an
inn in Brickhill; and putting into the same inn, he set up his own coach,
and bespoke his dinner. I asked him what he meant by that, for I was
for going forward with the journey. He said, No, I had need of a little
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS Q?
rest upon the road, and that was a very good sort of a house, though it
was but a little town; so we would go no farther that night, whatever
came of it.
I did not press him much, for since he had come so far to meet me,
and put himself to so much expense, it was but reasonable I should oblige
him a little too; so I was easy as to that point.
After dinner we walked to see the town, to see the church, and to view
the fields and the country, as is usual for strangers to do ; and our landlord
was our guide in going to see the church. I observed my gentleman
inquired pretty much about the parson, and I took the hint immediately,
that he certainly would propose to be married; and it followed presently,
that, in short, I would not refuse him; for, to be plain, with my circum
stances I was in no condition now to say no ; I had no reason now to run
any more such hazards.
But while these thoughts ran round in my head, which was the work
but of a few moments, I observed my landlord took him aside and whispered
to him, though not very softly neither, for so much I overheard : ' Sir, if
you shall have occasion ' the rest I could not hear, but it seems it was
to this purpose: 'Sir, if you shall have occasion for a minister, I have a
friend a little way off that will serve you, and be as private as you please.'
My gentleman answered loud enough for me to hear, ' Very well, I believe
I shall.'
I was no sooner come back to the inn, but he fell upon me with
irresistible words, that since he had had the good fortune to meet me, and
everything concurred, it would be hastening his felicity if I would put an
end to the matter just there. 'What do you mean?' says I, colouring a
little, 'What, in an inn, and on the road! Bless us all', said I, 'how
can you talk so?' 'Oh, I can talk so very well', says he; 'I came on
purpose to talk so, and I'll show you that I did ' ; and with that he pulls
out a great bundle of papers. ' You fright me ', said I, ' what are all
these ? ' ' Don't be frighted, my dear ', said he, and kissed me. This was
the first time that he had been so free to call me my dear; then he
repeated it, ' Don't be frighted ; you shall see what it is all ' ; then he laid
them all abroad. There was first the deed or sentence of divorce from
his wife, and the full evidence of her playing the whore ; then there was
the certificates of the minister and churchwardens of the parish where she
lived, proving that she was buried, and intimating the manner of her death ;
the copy of the coroner's warrant for a jury to sit upon her, and the verdict
of the jury, who brought it in Non compos mentis. All this was to give
me satisfaction, though, by the way, I was not so scrupulous, had he known
all, but that I might have taken him without it; however, I looked them
all over as well as I could, and told him that this was all very clear
indeed, but that he need not have brought them out with him, for it was
time enough. Well, he said, it might be time enough for me, but no time
but the present time was time enough for him.
There were other papers rolled up, and I asked him what they were.
•Why, ay', says he, 'that's the question I wanted to have you ask me';
so he takes out a little shagreen case, and gives me out of it a very fine
diamond ring. I could not refuse it, if I had a mind to do so, for he put
it upon my finger; so I only made him a curtsey. Then he takes out
another ring: 'And this', says he, 'is for another occasion', and puts that
iato his pocket. 'Well, but let me see it, though', says I, and smiled j
98 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDEK3
•I guess what it is; I think you are mad.' 'I should have been mad if I
had done less', says he; and still he did not show it me, and I had a
great mind to see it; so, says I, 'Well, but let me see it.' 'Hold', says
he; 'first look here'; then he took up the roll again, and read it, and,
behold! it was a licence for us to be married. 'Why', says I, 'are you
distracted ? You were fully satisfied, sure, that I would yield at first word,
or resolved to take no denial.' 'The last is certainly the case', said he.
'But you may be mistaken', said I. 'No, no', says he; 'I must not be
denied, I can't be denied ' ; and with that he fell to kissing me so violently
I could not get rid of him.
There was a bed in the room, and we were walking to and again, eager
in the discourse; at last, he takes me by surprise in his arms, and threw
me on the bed, and himself with me, and holding me still fast in his
arms, but without the least offer of any indecency, courted me to consent
with such repeated entreaties and arguments, protesting his affection and
vowing he would not let me go till I had promised him, that at last I
said, 'Why, you resolve not to be denied indeed, I think.' 'No, no',
says he, 'I must not be denied, I won't be denied, I can't be denied.'
•Well, well', said I, and, giving him a slight kiss, 'then you shan't be
denied; let me get up.'
He was so transported with my consent, and the kind manner of it, that
I began to think once he took it for a marriage, and would not stay for
the form; but I wronged him, for he took me by the hand, pulled me up
again, and then, giving me two or three kisses, thanked me for my kind
yielding to him ; and was so overcome with the satisfaction of it that I
saw tears stand in his eyes.
I turned from him, for it filled my eyes with tears too, and asked him
leave to retire a little to my chamber. If I had a grain of true repentance
for an abominable life of twenty-four years past, it was then. 'Oh, what
a felicity is it to mankind ', said I to myself, ' that they cannot see into the
hearts of one another! How happy had it been if I had been wife to a
man of so much honesty and so much affection from the beginning!'
Then it occurred to me, ' What an abominable creature am I ! And how
is this innocent gentleman going to be abused by me! How little does
he think, that having divorced a whore, he is throwing himself into the
arms of another! — that he is going to marry one that has lain with two
brothers, and has had three children by her own brother! — one that was
born in Newgate, whose mother was a whore, and is now a transported
thief! — one that has lain with thirteen men, and has had a child since he
saw me! Poor gentleman!', said I, 'what is he going to do?' After
this reproaching myself was over, it followed thus: 'Well, if I must be
his wife, if it please God to give me grace, I'll be a true wife to him,
and love him suitably to the strange excess of his passion for me; I will
make him amends, by what he shall see, for the abuses I put upon him,
which he does not see.'
He was impatient for my coming out of my chamber, but, finding me
long, he went downstairs and talked with my landlord about the parson.
My landlord, an officious though well-meaning fellow, had sent away
for the clergyman, and when my gentleman began to speak to him of
sending for him, 'Sir', says he to him, 'my friend is in the house'; so
without any more words he brought them together. When he came to the
minister, he asked him if he would venture to marry a couple of strangers
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 99
that were both willing. The parson said that Mr had said something
to him of it; that he hoped it was no clandestine business; that he seemed
to be a grave gentleman, and he supposed madam was not a girl, so that
the consent of friends should be wanted. 'To put you out of doubt of
that', says my gentleman, 'read this paper'; and out he pulls the licence.
'I am satisfied', says the minister, 'where is the lady?' 'You shall see
her presently', says my gentleman.
When he had said thus he comes upstairs, and I was by that time come
out of my room; so he tells me the minister was below, and that upon
showing him the licence he was free to marry us with all his heart, 'but
he asks to see you'; so he asked if I would let him come up.
''Tis time enough', said I, 'in the morning, is it not?' 'Why', said
he, 'my dear, he seemed to scruple whether it was not some young girl
stolen from her parents, and I assured him we were both of age to com
mand our own consent; and that made him ask to see you.' 'Well', said
I, 'do as you please'; so up they bring the parson, and a merry, good
sort of gentleman he was. He had been told, it seems, that we had met
there by accident; that I came in a Chester coach, and my gentleman in
his own coach to meet me; that we were to have met last night at Stony-
Stratford, but that he could not reach so far. ' Well, sir ', says the parson,
'every ill turn has some good in it. The disappointment, sir', says he to
my gentleman', ' was yours, and the good turn is mine, for if you had met
at Stony-Stratford I had not had the honour to marry you. Landlord, have
you a Common Prayer Book?'
I started as if I had been frighted. ' Sir ', says I, ' what do you mean ?
What, to marry in an inn, and at night too ! ' ' Madam ', says the minister,
•if you will have it be in the church, you shall; but I assure you your
marriage will be as firm here as in the church ; we are not tied by the
canons to marry nowhere but in the church; and, as for the time of day,
it does not at all weigh in this case; our princes are married in their
chambers, and at eight or ten o'clock at night.'
I was a great whilt before I could be persuaded, and pretended not to
be willing at all to be married but in the church. But it was all grimace ;
so I seemed at last to be prevailed on, and my landlord and his wife and
daughter were called up. My landlord was father and clerk and all together,
and we were married, and very merry we were; though I confess the self-
reproaches which I had upon me before lay close to me, and extorted
every now and then a deep sigh from me, which my bridegroom took
notice of, and endeavoured to encourage me, thinking, poor man, that I
had some little hesitations at the step I had taken so hastily.
We enjoyed ourselves that evening completely, and yet all was kept so
private in the inn that not a servant in the house knew of it, for my
landlady and her daughter waited on me, and would not let any of the
maids come upstairs. My landlady's daughter I called my bridemaid ; and,
sending for a shopkeeper the next morning, I gave the young woman a
good suit of knots, as good as the town would afford, and finding it was
a lacemaking town, I gave her mother a piece of bone-lace for a head.
One reason that my landlord was so close was that he was unwilling
that the minister of the parish should hear of it; but for alt that somebody
heard of it, so as that we had the bells set a-ringing the next morning
early, and the music, such as the town would afford, under our window.
But my landlord brazened it out that we were married before we came
100 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
thither, only that, being his former guests, we would have our wedding-
supper at his house.
We could not find in our hearts to stir the next day ; for, in short, having
been disturbed by the bells in the morning, and having perhaps not slept over
much before, we were so sleepy afterwards that we lay in bed till almost
twelve o'clock.
I begged my landlady that we might have no more music in the town,
nor ringing of bells, and she managed it so well that we were very quiet ;
but an odd passage interrupted all my mirth for a good while. The great
room of the house looked into the street, and I had walked to the end
of the room, and it being a pleasant, warm day, I had opened the
window, and was standing at it for some air, when I saw three gentlemen
ride by, and go into an inn just against us.
It was not to be concealed, nor did it leave me any room to question
it, but the second of the three was my Lancashire husband. I was fright
ed to death; I never was in such a consternation in my life; I thought
I should have sunk into the ground; my blood ran chill in my veins,
and I trembled as if I had been in a cold fit of an angue. I say, there
was no room to question the truth of it; I knew his clothes, I knew his
horse, and I knew his face.
The first reflection I made was that my husband was not by to see my
disorder, and that I was very glad of. The gentlemen had not been long
in the house but they came to the window of their room, as is usual;
but my window was shut, you may be sure. However, I could not keep
from peeping at them, and there I saw him again, heard him call to one
of the servants for something he waited, and received all the terrifying
confirmations of its being the same person that were possible to be had.
My next concern was to know what was his business there; but that
was impossible. Sometimes my imagination formed an idea of one fright
ful thing, sometimes of another; sometimes I thought he had discovered
me, and was come to upbraid me with ingratitude and breach of honour;
then I fancied he was coming upstairs to insult me; and innumerable
thoughts came into my head, of what was never in his head, nor ever
could be, unless the devil had revealed it to him.
I remained in the fright near two hours, and scarce ever kept my eye
from the window or door of the inn where they were. At last, hearing
a great clutter in the passage of their inn, I ran to the window, and, to
my great satisfaction, I saw them all three go out again and travel on
westward. Had they gone towards London, I should have been still in
a fright, lest I should meet him again, and that he should know me; but
he went the contrary way, and so I was eased cf that disorder.
We resolved to be going the next day, but about six o'clock at night
we were alarmed with a great uproar in the street, and people riding as
if they had been out of their wits; and what was it but a hue-and-cry
after three highwaymen, that had robbed two coaches and some travellers
near Dunstable Hill, and notice had, it seems, been given that they had
been seen at Brickhill, at such a house, meaning the house where those
gentlemen had been.
The house was immediately beset and searched, but there were witnesses
enough that the gentlemen had been gone above three hours. The crowd
having gathered about, we had the news presently; and I was heartily
concerned now another way. I presently told the people of the house, that
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 10 1
I durst say those were honest persons, for that I knew one of the gentle
men to be a very honest person, and of a good estate in Lancashire.
The constable who came with the hue-and-cry was immediately informed
of this, and came over to me to be satisfied from my own mouth; and I
assured him that I saw the three gentlemen as I was at the window ; that
I saw them afterwards at the windows of the room they dined in; that
I saw them take horse, and I would assure him I knew one of them to
be such a man, that he was a gentleman of a very good estate, and an
undoubted character in Lancashire, from whence I was just now upon my
journey.
The assurance with which I delivered this gave the mob gentry a check,
and gave the constable such satisfaction, that he immediately sounded a
retreat, told his people these were not the men, but that he had an account
they were very honest gentlemen; and so they went all back again.
What the truth of the matter was I knew not, but certain it was that the
coaches were robbed at Dunstable Hill, and £560 in money taken ; besides,
some of the lace merchants that always travel that way had been visited
too. As to the three gentlemen, that remains to be explained hereafter.
Well, this alarm stopped us another day, though my spouse told me it
was always safest travelling after a robbery, for that the thieves were sure
to be gone far enough off when they had alarmed the country: but I
was uneasy, and indeed principally lest my old acquaintance should be
upon the road still, and should chance to see me.
I never lived four pleasanter days together in my life. I was a mere
bride all this while, and my new spouse strove to make me easy in
everything. O could this state of life have continued! How had all my
past troubles been forgot, and my future sorrows been avoided! But I
had a past life of a most wretched kind to account for, some of it in
this world is well as in another.
We came away the fifth day; and my landlord, because he saw me
uneasy, mounted himself, his son, and three honest country fellows with
good fire-arms, and, without telling us of it, followed the coach, and
would see us safe into Dunstable.
We could do no less than treat them very handsomely at Dunstable,
which cost my spouse about ten or twelve shillings, and something he
gave the men for their time too, but my landlord would take nothing
for himself.
This was the most happy contrivance for me that could have fallen
out; for, had I come to London unmarried, I must either have come to
him for the first night's entertainment, or have discovered to him that I
had not one acquaintance in the whole city of London, that could receive
a poor bride for the first night's lodging with her spouse. But now I made
no scruple of going directly home with him, and there I took possession
at once of a house well furnished, and a husband in very good circum
stances, so that I had a prospect of a very happy life, if I knew how to
manage it; and I had leisure to consider of the real value of the life I
was likely to live. How different it was to be from the loose part I
had acted before, and how much happier a life of virtue and sobriety is,
than that which we call a life of pleasure!
O had this particular scene of life lasted, or had I learnt from that
time I enjoined it, to have tasted the true sweetness of it, and had I not
fallen into that poverty which is the sure bane of virtue, how happy had
102 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I been, not only here, but perhaps for ever! for while I lived thus, I was
really a penitent for all my life past. I looked back on it with abhorrence,
and might truly be said to hate myself for it. I often reflected how my
lover at Bath, struck by the hand of God, repented and abandoned me,
and refused to see me any more, though he loved me to an extreme; but
I, prompted by that worst of devils, poverty, returned to the vile practice,
and made the advantage of what they call a handsome face be the relief
to my necessities, and beauty be a pimp to vice.
Now I seemed landed in a safe harbour, after the stormy voyage of
life past was at an end, and I began to be thankful for my deliverance.
I sat many an hour by myself, and wept over the remembrance of past
follies, and the dreadful extravagances of a wicked life, and sometimes I
flattered myself that I had sincerely repented.
But there are temptations which it is not in the power of human nature
to resist, and few know what would be their case, if driven to the same
exigencies. As covetousness is the root of all evil, so poverty is the
worst of all snares, But I waive that discourse till I come to the experiment.
I lived with this husband in the utmost tranquillity; he was a quiet,
sensible, sober man; virtuous, modest, sincere, and in his business diligent
and just. His business was in a narrow compass, and his income sufficient
to a plentiful way of living in the ordinary way. I do not say to keep
an equipage, and make a figure, as the world calls it, nor did I expect
it, or desire it ; for, as I abhorred the levity and extravagance of my former
life, so I chose now to live retired, frugal, and within ourselves. I kept
no company, made no visits ; minded my family, and obliged my husband ;
and this kind of life became a pleasure to me.
We lived in an uninterrupted course of eas£ and content for five years,
when a sudden blow from an almost invisible hand blasted all my happiness,
and turned me out into the world io a condition the reverse of all that
had been before it.
My husband, having trusted one of his fellow-clerks with a sum of
money, too much for our fortunes to bear the loss of, the clerk failed,
and the loss fell very heavy on my husband ; yet it was not so great
but that, if he had had courage to have looked his misfortunes in the
face, his credit was so good that, as I told him, he would easily recover
it; for to sink under trouble is to double the weight, and he that will
die in it, shall die in it.
It was in vain to speak comfortably to him; the wound had sunk too
deep; it was a stab that touched the vitals ; he grew melancholy and dis
consolate, and from thence lethargic, and died. I foresaw the blow, and
was extremely oppressed in my mind, for I saw evidently that if he died
I was undone.
I had had two children by him, and no more, for it began to be time
for me to leave bearing children, for I was now eight-and-forty, and I
suppose if he had lived I should have had no more.
I was now left in a dismal and disconsolate case indeed, and in several
things worse than ever. First, it was past the flourishing time with me,
when I might expect to be courted for a mistress; that agreeable part
had declined some time, and the ruins only appeared of what had been;
and that which was worse than all was this, that I was the most dejected,
disconsolate creature alive. I that had encouraged my husband, and
endeavoured to support his spirits under his trouble, could not support
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 03
my own ; I wanted that spirit in trouble which I told him was so necessary
for bearing the burthen.
But my case was indeed deplorable, for I was left perfectly friendless
and helpless, and the loss my husband had sustained had reduced his
circumstances so low, that though indeed I was not in debt, yet I could
easily foresee that what was left would not support me long; that it wasted
daily for subsistence, so that it would be soon all spent, and then I saw
nothing before me but the utmost distress; and this represented itself so
lively to my thoughts, that it seemed as if it was come, before it was
really very near; also my very apprehensions doubled the misery, for I
fancied every sixpence that I paid for a loaf of bread was the last
I had in the world, and that to-morrow I was to fast, and be starved
to death.
In this distress I had no assistant, no friend to comfort or advise me;
I sat and cried and tormented myself night and day, wringing my hands,
and sometimes raving like a distracted woman ; and indeed I have often
wondered it had not affected my reason, for I had the rapours to such a
degree, that my understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies and
imaginations,
I lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I had,
weeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and, as it were, only
bleeding to death, without the least hope or prospect of help; and now I
had cried so long, and so often, that tears were exhausted, and I began
to be desperate, for I grew poor apace.
For a little relief, I had put off my house and took lodgings; and as I /
was reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods, which put a
little money in my pocket, and I lived near a year upon that, spending
very sparingly, and ekeing things out to the utmost; but still when I
looked before me, my heart would sink within me at the inevitable
approach of misery and want. O let none read this part without seriously
reflecting on the circumstances of a desolate state, and how they would
grapple with want of friends and want of bread; it will certainly make
them think not of sparing what they have only, but of looking up to
heaven for support, and of the wise man's prayer, ' Give me not poverty v!/r'
lest I steal,'
Let them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadful tempta
tion, and all the strength to resist is taken away; poverty presses, the
soul is made desperate by distress, and what can be done? It was one
^evening, when being brought, as I may say, to the last gasp, I think I
may truly say I was distracted and raving, when prompted by I know not
what spirit, and, as it were, doing I did not know what, or why, I dressed
me (for I had still pretty good clothes), and went out. I am very sure I
had no manner of design in my head when I went out; I neither knew
or considered where to go, or on what business ; but as the devil carried
me out, and laid his bait for me, so he brought me, to be sure, to the
place, for I knew not whither I was going, or what I did.
/'Wandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an apothecary's
shop in Leadenhall Street, where I saw lie on a stool just before the
counter a little bundle wrapped in a white cloth; beyond it stood a maid
servant with her back to it, looking up towards the top of the shop,
where the apothecary's apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the
counter, with his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand, looking
104 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
and reaching up to the upper shelf, for something he wanted, so that
both were engaged, and nobody else in the shop.
This was the bait; and the devil who laid the snare prompted me, as
if he had spoke, for I remember, and shall never forget it, 'twas like a
voice spoken over my shoulder, 'Take the bundle; be quick; do it this
moment.' It was no sooner said but I stepped into the shop, and with
my back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a cart that was going by,
I put my hand behind me and took the bundle, and went off with it, the
maid or fellow not perceiving me, or any one else.
It is impossible to express the horror of my soul all the while I did
it. When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to mend my pace.
I crossed the street indeed, and went down the first turning I came to,
and I think it was a street that went through into Fenchurch Street; from
thence I crossed and turned through so many ways and turnings, that I
could never tell which way it was, nor where I went; I felt not the
ground I stepped on, and the farther I was out of danger, the faster I
went, till, tired and out of breath, I was forced to sit down on a little
Jf*^fyv" bench at a door, and then found I was got into Thames Street, near
v^*Vi^ Billingsgate. I rested me a little and went on; my blood was alj_in a
\f J. fire; my heart beat as if I was in a sudden; fright.' In short, I was "under
^ >jr "such a sujjiris_e_ that I knew not whither I was agoing, or what to do.
After I had tired myself thus with walking a long way about, and so
eagerly, I began to consider, and make home to my lodging, where I
came about nine o'clock at night.
What the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion laid where I
found it, I knew not, but when I came to open it, I found there was a suit
. v ' of childbedlinen in it, very good, and almost new, the lace- very fine;
there*" was a silver porringer of a pint, a small silver mug, and six spoons,
with some other linen, a good smock, and three silk handkerchiefs, and in
the mug a paper, i8s. 6d. in money. I
" All the while I was opening these things I was under such dreadful
impressions of fear, and in such terror of mind, though I was perfectly
safe, that I cannot express the manner of it. I sat me down, and cried
most vehemently. 'Lord', said I, 'what am I now? — a thief 1 Why, I
shall be taken next time, and be carried to Newgate, and be tried for
my life!' And with that I cried again a long time, and I am sure, as
poor as I was, if I had durst for fear, I would certainly have carried the
things back again ; but that went off after a while. Well, I went to bed
for that night, but slept little; the horror of the fact was upon my mind,
and I knew not what I said or did all night, and all the pext day. Then
I was impatient to hear some news of the loss ; and would fain know
how it was, whether they were a poor body's goods, or a rich. ' Perhaps ',
said I, 'it may be some poor widow like me, that had packed up these
goods to go and sell them for a little bread for herself and a poor child,
and are now starving and breaking their hearts for want of that little they
would have fetched.' And this thought tormented me worse than all the
rest, for three or four days.
But my own distresses silenced all these reflections, and the prospect
of my own starving, which grew every day more frightful to me, hardened
my heart by degrees. It was then particularly heavy upon my mind, that
I had been reformed, and had, as I hoped, repented of all my past
wickedness; that I had lived a sober, grave, retired life for several years,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 10$
but now I should be driven by the dreadful necessity of my circumstances
to the gates of destruction, soul and body; and two or three times I fell
upon my knees, praying to God, as well as I could, for deliverance; but
I cannot but say, my prayers had no hope in them. I knew not what to
do; it was all fear without, and dark within; and I reflected on my past
life as not repented of, that Heaven was now beginning to punish me,
and would make me as miserable as I had been wicked.
Had I gone on here I had perhaps been a true penitent; but I had an
evil counsellor within, and he was continually prompting me to relieve
myself by the worst means; so one evening he tempted _ me again by the
same wicked impulse that had said 'Take that bundle' to go out again
and seek for what might happen.
I went out now ^by_day_light, and wandered about I knew not whither,
and in search of I knew not what, when the devil put a snare in my way
of a dreadful nature indeed, and such a one as I have never had before
or since. Going through Aldersgate Street, there was a pretty little child
had been at a dancing-school, and was agoing home aU alone ; and my
prompter, like a true devil, set me upon this innocent creature. I talked
to it, and It prattled to me again, and I took it by the hand and led it
along till I came to a paved alley that goes into Bartholomew Close, and
I led it in there. The "child said that was not its way home. I said,
'Yes, my dear, it is ; I'll show you the way home.' The child had a
Jittle necklace on of gold^beads, and I had my eye upon that, and in the
dark' of the alley I stooped, pretending to mend the child's clog that was
loose, and took off her necklace, and the child never felt it, and so led
the child on again. Here, I say, the devil put me upon killing the child
in the dark alley, that it might not cry, but the very thought frighted me
so that I was ready to drop down; but I turned the child about and bade
it go back again, for that was not its way home; the child said, so she
would ; and I went through into Bartholomew Close, and then turned round
to another passage that goes into Long Lane, so away into Charterhouse
Yard, and out into St John's Street; then crossing into Smithfield, went
down Chick Lane, and into Field Lane, to NHolborn Bridge, when, mixing
with the crowd of people usually passing there, it was not possible to
have been found out; and.,_thus I made my second sally into the world.
The 'thoughts of this booly put out all the thoughts of the first, and the
reflections I had made wore quickly off; poverty hardened my heart, and
my own necessities made me regardless of anything. The last affair left
no great concern upon me, for as I did the poor child no harm, I only
thought I had given the parents a just reproof for their negligence, in
leaving the poor lamb to come home by itself, and it would teach them
to take more care another time.
This string of beads was worth about €12 or £14. I suppose it might
have been formerly the mother's, for it was too big for the child's wear,
but that, perhaps, the vanity of the mother to have her child look fine at
the dancing-school had made her let the child wear it; and no doubt the
child had a maid sent to take care of it, but she, like a careless jade, was
taken up perhaps with some fellow that had met her, and so the poor
baby wandered till it fell into my hands.
However, I did the child no harm; I did not so much as fright it, for
I had a great many tender thoughts about me yet, and did nothing but
what, as 1 may say, mere necessity drove me to.
IO6 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I had a great many adventures after this, but I was young in the business,
and ditt'TidT know how to frlanage, otherwise than as the devil put things
into my head; and, indeed, he was seldom backward to me. Onj^ adven
ture I had which was very lucky to me. I was going through Lombard
Street in the dusk of the evening, just by the end of Three King Court,
when on a sudden comes a fellow running by me as swift as lightning,
and throws a bundle that was in his hand just behind me, as I stood up
against the corner of the house at the turning into the alley. Just as he
threw it in, he said, ' God bless you, mistress, let it lie there a little ', and
away he runs. After him comes two more, and immediately a young
fellow without his hat, crying, 'Stop thief!' They pursued the two last
fellows so close, that they were forced to drop what they had got, and
one of them was taken into the bargain; the other got off free.
I stood stock-still all this while, till they came back, dragging the poor
fellow they had taken, and lugging the things they had found, extremely
well satisfied that they had recovered the booty and taken the thief; and
thus they passed by me, for I looked only like one who stood up while
the crowd was gone,
Once or twice I asked what was the matter, but the people neglected
answering me, and I was not very importunate; but after the crowd was
wholly passed, I took my opportunity to turn about and take up what was
behind me and walk away. This, indeed, I did with less disturbance than
I had done formerly, for these things I did not steal, but they were stolen
to my hand. I got safe to my lodgings with this cargo, which was a
piece of fine black lustring silk, and a piece of velvet; the latter was but
part of a piece of about eleven yards; the former was a whole piece of
near fifty yards. It seems it was a mercer's shop that they had rifled. I
say rifled, because the goods were so considerable that they had lost ; for
the goods that they recovered were pretty many, and I believe came to
about six or seven several pieces of silk. How they came to get so many
I could not tell ; but as I had only robbed the thief, I made no scruple
at taking these goods, and being very glad of them too.
I had pretty gopd luck~thus Jar^ .arid I made severa^-«tiventirre§_mjar«,
though without small purchase, yet with good success, but I went in daily
dread that some mischief would befall me, and that I should certainly
come to be hanged at last. The impression this made on me was too
strong to be slighted, and it kept me from making attempts that, for aught
I knew, might have been very safely performed; but one thing I cannot
omit, which was a bait to me many a day. I walked frequently out into
the villages round the town to see if nothing would fall in my way there;
and going by a house near Stepney, I saw on the window-board two
rings, one a small diamond ring, and the other a plain gold ring, to be
sure laid there by some thoughtless lady, that had more money than
forecast, perhaps only till she washed her hands.
I walked several times by the window to observe if I could see whether
there was anybody in the room or no, and I could see nobody, but still
1 was not sure. It came presently into my thoughts to rap at the glass,
as if I wanted to speak with somebody, and if anybody was there they
would be sure to come to the window, and then I would tell them to
remove those rings, for that I had seen two suspicious fellows take notice
of them. This was a ready thought. I rapped once or twice, and nobody
came, when I thrust hard against the square of glass, and broke it with
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 107
little noise, and took out the two rings, and walked away; the diamond
ring was worth about £ 3, and the other about 95.
I was now at a loss for a market for my goods, and especially for my
two pieces of silk. I was very loth to dispose of them for a trifle, as the
poor unhappy thieves in general do, who, after they have ventured their
lives for perhaps a thing of value, are forced to sell it for a song when
they have done; but I was resolved I would not do thus, whatever shift
I made; however, I did not well know what course to take. At last I
resolved to go to my old governess, and acquaint myself with her again.
I had punctually supplied the £ 5 a year to her for my little boy as long
as 1 was able, but at last was obliged to put a stop to it. However, I
had written a letter to her, wherein I had told her that my circumstances
were reduced ; that I had lost my husband, and that I was not able to do
it any longer, and begged the poor child might not suffer too much for
its mother's misfortunes.
I now made her a visit, and I found that she drove something of the
old trade still, but that she was not in such flourishing circumstances as
before; for she had been sued by a certain gentleman who had had his
daughter stolen from him, and who, it seems, she had helped to convey
away ; and it was very narrowly that she escaped the gallows. The
expense also had ravaged her, so that her house was but meanly furnished,
and she was not in such repute for her practice as before; however, she
stood upon her legs, as they say, and as she was a bustling woman, and
had some stock left, she was turned pawnbroker, and lived pretty well.
She received me very civilly, and with her usual obliging manner told
me she would not have the less respect for me for my being reduced; that
she had taken care my boy was very well looked after, though I could
not pay for him, and that the woman that had him was easy, so that I
needed not to trouble myself about him till I might be better able to do
it effectually.
I told her I had not much money left, but that I had some things that
were money's worth, if she could tell me how I might turn them into
money. She asked what it was I had. I pulled out the string of gold
beads, and told her it was one of my husband's presents to me; then I
showed her the two parcels of silk, which I told her I had from Ireland,
and brought up to town with me, and the little diamond ring. As to the
small parcel of plate and spoons, I had found means to dispose of them
myself before ; and as for the childbed-linen I had, she offered me to take
it herself, believing it to have been my own. She told me that she was
turned pawnbroker, and that she would sell those things for me as pawned
to her; and so she sent presently for proper agents that bought them,
being in her hands, without any scruple, and gave good prices too.
I now began to think this necessary woman might help me a little in
my low condition to some business, for I would gladly have turned my
hand to any honest employment if I could have got it ; but honest business
did not come within her reach. If I had been younger perhaps she might
have helped me, but my thoughts were off of that kind of livelihood, as
being quite out of the way after fifty, which was my case, and so I
told her.
She invited me at last to come, and be at her house till I could find
something to do, and it should cost me very little, and this I gladly
accepted of; and now living a little easier, I entered into some measures
108 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
to have my little son by my last husband taken off; and this she made
easy too, reserving a payment only of £ 5 a year, if I could pay it. This
was such a help to me, that for a good while I left off the wicked trade
that I had so newly taken up; and gladly I would have got work, but
that was very hard to do for one that had no acquaintance.
However, at last I got some quilting work for ladies' beds, petticoats,
and the like ; and this I liked very well, and worked very hard, and with
this I began to live; but the diligent devil, who resolved I should con
tinue in his service, continually prompted me to go out and take a walk,
that is to say, to see if anything would offer in the old way.
One^jjxening I blindly obeyed his summons, and fetched a long circuit
through the streets, but met with no purchase ; but not content with that,
I went out the next evening too, when, going by an alehouse, I saw the
door of a little room open, next the very street, and on the table a silver
tankard, things much in use in public-houses at that time. It seems some
company had been drinking there, and the careless boys had forgot to
take it away.
I went into the box frankly, and setting the silver tankard on the corner
of the bench, I sat down before it, and knocked with my foot; a boy
came presently, and I bade him fetch me a pint of warm ale, for it was
cold weather; the boy ran, and I heard him go down the cellar to draw
the ale. While the boy was gone, another boy came, and cried, 'D'ye
call?' I spoke with a melancholy air, and said, 'No; the boy is gone
for a pint of ale for me.'
While I sat here, I heard the woman in the bar say, 'Are they all gone
in the five?' which was the box I sat in, and the boy said, 'Yes.' 'Who
fetched the tankard away?' says the woman.' I did', says another boy;
'that's it', pointing, it seems, to another tankard, which he had fetched
from another box by mistake; or else it must be, that the rogue forgot
that he had not brought it in, which certainly he had not.
I heard all this much to my satisfaction, for I found plainly that the
tankard was not missed, and yet they concluded it was fetched away; so
I drank my ale, called to pay, and as I went away I said, 'Take care of
your plate, child', meaning a silver pint mug which he brought me to
drink in. The boy said, ' Yes, madam, very welcome ', and away I came.
I came home to my governess, and now I thought it was a time to try
her, that if I might be put to the necessity of being exposed she might
offer me some assistance. When I had been at home some time, and had
an opportunity of talking to her, I told her I had a secret of the greatest
consequence in the world to commit to her, if she had respect enough for
me to keep it a secret. She told me she had kept one of my secrets
faithfully; why should I doubt her keeping another? I told her the
strangest thing in the world had befallen me, even without any design,
and so told her the whole story of the tankard. ' And have you brought
it away with you, my dear?' says she. 'To be sure I have', says I, and
showed it her. 'But what shall I do now?' says Ij 'must not I carry
it again?'
'Carry it again!' says she. 'Ay, if you want to go to Newgate.' 'Why',
says I, ' they can't be so base to stop me, when I carry it to them again ? '
•You don't know those sort of people, child', says she; 'they'll not only
carry you to Newgate, but hang you too, without any regard to the honesty
of returning it; or bring in an account of all the other tankards as they
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS IOQ
have lost, for you to pay for.' 'What must I do, then?' says I. 'Nay',
says she, 'as you have played the cunning part and stole it, you must e'en
keep it ; there's no going back now. Besides, child ', says she, ' don't you
want it more than they do. I wish you could light of such a bargain
once a week.'
This gave me a new notion of my governess, and that, since she was
turned pawnbroker, she had a sort of people about her that were none of
the honest ones that I had met with there before.
I had not been long there but I discovered it more plainly than before,
for every now and then I saw hilts of swords, spoons, forks, tankards,
and all such kind of ware brought in, not to be pawned, but to be sold
downright; and she bought them all without asking any questions, but
had good bargains, as I found by her discourse.
I found also that in following this trade she always melted down the
plate she bought, that it might not be challenged ; and she came to me
and told me one morning that she was going to melt, and if I would,
she would put my tankard in, that it might not be seen by anybody. I
told her, with all my heart ; so she weighed it, and allowed me the full value
in silver again ; but I found she did not do so to the rest of her customers.
Some time after this, as I was at work, and very melancholy, she begins
to ask me what the matter was. I told her my heart was very heavy; I
had little work and nothing to live on, and knew not what course to take.
She laughed, and told me I must go out again and try my fortune; it
might be that I might meet with another piece of plate. *O mother!',
says I, 'that is a trade that I have no skill in, and if I should be taken
I am undone at once.' Says she, 'I could help you to a schoolmistress
that shall make you as dexterous as herself.' I trembled at that proposal,
for hitherto I had had no confederates nor any acquaintance among that
tribe. But she conquered all my modesty, and all my fears j and in a
little time, by the help of this confederate, I grew as impudent a thief
and as dexterous, as ever Moll Cutpurse was, though, if fame does not
belie her, not half so handsome.
tThe comrade she helped me to dealt in three sorts of craft, viz. shop-
lifing, stealing of shops-books and pocket-books, and taking off gold
watches from the ladies' sides ; and this last she did so dexterously that
no woman ever arrived to the perfection of that art, like her. I liked the
first and the last of these things very well, and I attended her some time
in the practice, just as a deputy attends a midwife, without any pay.
At length she put me to, practice. She had shown me her art, and I
had several times unhooked a watch from her own side with great dex
terity. At last she showed me a prize, and this was a young lady with
child, who had a charming watch. The thing was to be done as she
came out of the church. She goes on one side of the lady, and pretends,
just as she came to the steps, to fall, and fell against the lady with so
much violence as put her into a great fright, and both cried out terribly.
In the very moment that she jostled the lady, I had hold of the watch,
and holding it the right way, the start she gave drew the hook out, and
she never felt it. I made off immediately, and left my schoolmistress to
come out of her fright gradually, and the lady too; and presently the
watch was missed. 'Ay', says my comrade, 'then it was those rogues
that thrust me down, I warrant ye; I wonder the gentlewoman did not
miss her watch before, then we might have taken them.'
1 10 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
She humoured the thing so well that nobody suspected her, and I was
got home a full hour before her. This was my first adventure in company.
The watch was indeed a very fine one, and had many trinkets about it,
and my governess allowed us £ 20 for it, of which I had half. And thus
I was entered a complete thief, hardened to a pitch above all the reflec
tions of conscience or modesty, and to a degree which I never thought
possible in me.
Thus the devil, who began, by the help of an irresistible poverty, to
push me into this wickedness, brought me to a height beyond the common
rate, even when my necessities were not so terrifying} for I had now got
into a little vein of work, and, as I was not at a loss to handle my
needle, it was very probable I might have got my bread honestly enough.
I must say, that if such a prospect of work had presented itself at
first, when I began to feel the approach of my miserable circumstances —
I say, had such a prospect of getting bread by working presented itself
then, I had never fallen into this wicked trade, or into such a wicked gang
as I was now embarked with ; but practice had hardened me, and I grew
audacious to the last degree; and the more so, because I had carried it
on so long, and had never been taken; for, in a word, my new partner
in wickedness and I went on together jsojong, without being ever detected,
that we not only grew bold, but we grewTich, and we had at one time one-
and-twenty gold watches in our hands.
I remember that one day being a little more serious than ordinary, and
finding I had so good a stock beforehand as I had, for I had near £ 200
in money for my share, it came strongly into my mine!, no doubt from
some kind spirit, if such there be, that as at first poverty excited me, and
my distresses drove me to these dreadful shifts, so seeing those distresses
were now relieved, and I could also get something towards a maintenance
by working, and had so good a bank to support me, why should I not
now leave off, while I was well? that I could not expect to go always
free; and if I was once surprised, I was undone.
This was doubtless the happy minute, when, if I had hearkened to the
blessed hint, from^wKats^evT^r-hand it came, I had still a cast for an easy
life. But my fate was otherwise determined; the busy devil that drew me
in had too fast hold of me to let me go back; but as poverty brought
me in, so avarice kept me in, till there was no poing back. As to the
arguments which my reason dictated for persuading me to lay down,
avarice stepped in and said, "Go on; you nave had very good luck; go
on till you have gotten four or five hundred pounds, and then you shall
leave off, and then you may lire easy without working at all."
Thus I, that was once in the devil's clutches, was held fast there as
with a charm, and had no power to go without the circle, till I was
engulfed in labyrinths of trouble too great to get out at all.
However, these thoughts left some impression upon me, and made me
act with some more caution than before and more than my directors used
for themselves. My comrade, as I called her (she should have been called
my teacher), with another of her scholars, was the first in the misfortune;
for, happening to be upon the hunt for purchase, they made an attempt
upon a linen-draper in Cheapside, but were snapped by a hawk's-eyed
journeyman, and seized with two pieces of cambric, which were taken
also upon them.
This was enough to lodge them both in Newgate, were they had the
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 1 1
misfortune to have some of their former sins brought to remembrance.
Two other indictments being brought against them, and the facts being
proved upon them, they were both condemned to die. They both pleaded
their bellies, and were both voted quick with child; though my tutoress
was no more with child than I was.
I went frequently to see them, and condole with them, expecting that
it would be my turn next; but the place gave me so much horror, reflecting
that it was the place of my unhappy birth, and of my mother's misfor
tunes, that I could not bear it, so I left off going to see them.
And, oh! could I but have taken warning by their disasters, I had been
happy still, for I was yet free, and had nothing brought against me; but
it could not be, my measure was not yet filled up.
My comrade, having the brand of an old offender, was executed; the
young offender was spared, having obtained a reprieve, but lay starving
a long while in prison, till at last she got her name into what they call
a circuit pardon, and so came 'off.
This terrible example of raj comrade frighted me heartily, and for a
good while I made no excursions ; but one night, in the neighbourhood
oT my governess's house, they cried ' Fire ' ! My governess looked out, for
we were all up, and cried immediately that such a gentlewoman's house
was all of a light fire atop, and so indeed it was. Here she gives me a
jog. 'Now, child', says she, 'there is a rare opportunity, the fire being
so near that you may go to it before the street is blocked up with the
crowd.' She presently gave me my cue. 'Go, child', says she, 'to the
house, and run in and tell the lady, or anybody you see, that you come
to help them, and that you came from such a gentlewoman; that is, one
of her acquaintance farther up the street.'
Away I went, and, coming to the house, I found them all in confusion,
you may be sure. I ran in, and finding one of the maids, 'Alas! sweetheart',
said I, 'how came this dismal accident? Where is your mistress? Is she
safe? And where are the children? I come from Madam to help
you.' Away runs the maid, 'Madam, madam', says she, screaming as
loud as she could yell, 'here is a gentlewoman come from Madam
to help us,' The poor woman, half out of her wits, with a bundle under
her arm, and two little children, comes towards me, 'Madam', says I, 'let
me carry the poor children to Madam ; she desires you to send them ;
she'll take care of the poor lambs', and so I takes one of them out of
her hand, and she lifts the other up into my arms. 'Ay, do, for God's
sake ' says she, ' carry them. Oh I thank her for her kindness.' ' Have you
anything else to secure, madam?' says I; 'she will take care of it.' 'Oh
dearl', says she, 'God bless her; take this bundle of plate and carry it
to her too. Oh, she is a good woman ! Oh, we are utterly ruined, undone ! '
And away she runs from me out of her wits, and the maids after her,
and away comes I with the two children and the bundle.
I was no sooner got into the street but I saw another woman come to
me. 'Oh!', says she, 'mistress', in a piteous tone, 'you will let fall the
child. Come, come, this is a sad time; let me help you'; and immediately
lays hold of my bundle to carry it for me. 'No', says I; 'if you will
help me, take the child by the hand, and lead it for me but to the upper
end of the street; I'll go with you and satisfy you for your pains.'
She could not avoid going, after what I said; but the creature, in short,
was one of the same business with me, and wanted nothing but the bundle |
112 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
however, she went with me to the door, for she could not help it. When
we were come there I whispered her, 'Go, child', said I, 'I understand
your trade; you may meet with purchase enough.'
She understood me and walked off. I thundered at the door with the
children, and as the people were raised before by the noise of the fire, I
was soon let in, and I said, 'Is madam awake? Pray tell her Mrs
desires the favour of her to take the two children in; poor lady, she will
be undone, their house is all of a flame.' They took the children in very
civilly, pitied the family in distress, and away came I with my bundle. One
of the maids asked me if I was not to leave the bundle too. I said, 'No,
sweetheart, 'tis to go to another place; it does not belong to them,'
I was a great way out of the hurry now, and so 1 went on and brought
the bundle of plate, which was very considerable, straight home to my old
governess. She told me she would not look into it, but bade me go again
and look for more.
She gave me the like cue to the gentlewoman of the next house to that
which was on fire, and I did my endeavour to go, but by this time the
alarm of fire was so great, and so many engines playing, and the street
so thronged with people, that I could not get near the house whatever I
could do ; so I came back again to my governess's, and taking the bundle
up into my chamber, I began to examine it, It is with horror that I tell
what a treasure I found there ; 'tis enough to say that, besides most of the
family plate, which was considerable, I found a gold chain, an old-fashioned
thing, the locket of which was broken, so that I suppose it had not been
used some years, but the gold was not the worse for that; also a little
box of burying rings, the lady's wedding-ring, and some broken bits of old
lockets of gold, a gold watch, and a purse with about £ 24 value in old
pieces of gold coin, and several other things of value.
This was the greatest and the worst prize that ever I was concerned in ;
for indeed, though, as I have said above, I was hardened now beyond the
power of all reflection in other cases, yet it really touched me to the very
soul when I looked into this treasure, to think of the poor disconsolate
gentlewoman who had lost so much besides, and who would think, to be
sure, that she had saved her plate and best things ; how she would be surprised
when she should find that she had been deceived, and that the person that
took her children and her goods had not come, as was pretended, from the
gentlewoman in the next street, but that the children had been put upon
her without her own knowledge.
I say, I confess the inhumanity of this action moved me very much, and
made me relent exceedingly, and tears stood in my eyes upon that subject;
but with all my sense of its being cruel and inhuman, I could never find
in my heart to make any restitution. The reflection wore off, and I quickly
forgot the circumstances that attended it.
Nor was this all ; for though by this job I was become considerably
richer than before, yet the resolution I had formerly taken of leaving off
this horrid trade when I had gotten a little more, did not return, but I
must still get more ; and the avarice had such success, that I had no more
thoughts of coming to a timely alteration of life, though without it I could
expect no safety, no tranquillity in the possession of what I had gained;
a little more, and a little more, was the case still.
At length, yielding to the importunities of my crime, I cast off all remorse,
and all the reflections on that head turned to no more than this, that I
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 113
might perhaps come to have one booty more that might complete all; but
though I certainly had that one booty, yet every hit looked towards another,
and was so encouraging to me to go on with the trade, that I had no gust
to the laying it down.
/"^ In this condition, hardened by success, and resolving to go on, I fell
into the snare in which I was appointed to meet with my last reward for
I this kind of life. But even this was not yet, for I met with several successful
\_adventures more in this way.
My governess was for a while really concerned for the misfortune of my
comrade that had been hanged, for she knew enough of my governess to
have sent her the same way, and which made her very uneasy; indeed she
was in a very great fright.
It is true that when she was gone, and had not told what she knew,
my governess was easy as to that point, and perhaps glad she was hanged,
for it was in her power to have obtained a pardon at the expense of her
friends; but the loss of her, and the sense of her kindness in not making
her market of what she knew, moved my governess to mourn very sincerely
for her. I comforted her as well as I could, and she in return hardened
me to merit more completely the same fate.
However, as I have said, it made me the more wary, and particularly I
was very shy of shoplifting, especially among the mercers and drapers, who
are a set of fellows that have their eyes very much about them. I made
a venture or two among the lace folks and the milliners, and particularly
at one shop where two young women were newly set up, and had not
been bred to the trade, There I carried off a piece of bone-lace, worth
six or seven pounds, and a paper of thread. But this was but once; it was
a trick that would not serve again.
It was always reckoned a safe job when we heard of a new shop, and
especially when the people were such as were not bred to shops. Such
may depend upon it that they will be visited once or twice at their
beginning, and they must be very sharp indeed if they can prevent it.
I made another adventure or two after this, but they were but trifles.
Nothing considerable offering for a good while, I began to think that I
must give over trade in earnest; but my governess, who was not willing
to lose me, and expected great things of me, brought me one day into
company with a young woman and a fellow that went for her husband,
though, as it appeared afterwards, she was not his wife, but they were
partners in the trade they carried on, and in something else too. In short,
they robbed together, lay together, were taken together, and at last were
hanged together.
I came into a kind of league with these two by the help of my governess,
and they carried me out into three or four adventures, where I rather saw
• them commit some coarse and unhandy robberies, in which nothing but
a great stock of impudence on their side, and gross negligence on the
people's side who were robbed, could have made them successful, So I
resolved from that time forward to be very cautious how I adventured
with them; and, indeed, when two or three unlucky projects were proposed
by them, I declined the offer, and persuaded them against it. One time
they particularly proposed robbing a watchmaker of three gold watches,
which they had eyed in the daytime, and found the place where he laid
them. One of them had so many keys of all kinds, that he made no
question t° open the place where the watchmaker had laid them; and so
8
1 14 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
we made a kind of an appointment; but when I came to look narrowly
into the thing, I found they proposed breaking open the house, and this
I would not embark in, so they went without me. They did get into the
house by main force, and broke up the locked place where the watches
were, but found but one of the gold watches, and a silver one, which they
took, and got out of the house again very clear. But the family being
alarmed, cried out!, 'Thieves!', and the man was pursued and taken; the
young woman had got off too, but unhappily was stopped at a distance,
and the watches found upon her. And thus I had a second escape, for
they were convicted, and both hanged, being old offenders, though but
young people; and as I said before that they robbed together, so now they
hanged together, and there ended my new partnership.
I began now to be very wary, having so narrowly escaped a scouring,
and having such an example before me; but I had a new tempter, who
prompted me every day — I mean my governess; and now a prize presented,
which as it came by her management, so she expected a good share ot
the booty. There was a good quantity of Flanders lace lodged in a private
house, where she had heard of it, and Fland'ers lace being prohibited, it
was a good booty to any custom-house officer that could come at it. I
had a full account from my governess, as well of the quantity as of the
very place where it was concealed; so I went to a custom-house officer,
and told him I had a discovery to make to him, if he would assure me
that I should have my due share of the reward. This was so just an
offer, that nothing could be fairer; so he agreed, and taking a constable
and me with him, we beset the house. As I told him I could go directly
to the place, he left it to me ; and the hole being very dark, I squeezed
myself into it, with a candle in my hand, and so reached the pieces out
to him, taking care as I gave him some so to secure as much about myself
as I could conveniently dispose of. There was near £300 worth of lace
in the whole, and I secured about £50 worth of it myself. The people
of the house were not owners of the lace, but a merchant who had entrusted
them with it; so that they were not so surprised as I thought they would be.
I left the officer overjoyed with his prize, and fully satisfied with what
he had got, and appointed to meet him at a house of his own directing,
where I came after I had disposed of the cargo I had about me, of which
he had not the least suspicion. When I came he began to capitulate,
believing I did not understand the right I had in the prize, and would fain
have put me off with £20; but I let him know that I was not so ignorant
as he supposed I was; and yet I was glad, too, that he offered to bring
me to a certainty. I asked £100, and he rose up to £30; I fell to £80,
and he rose again to £40; in a word, he offered £50, and I consented,
only demanding a piece of lace, which I thought came to about £8 or £9,
as if it had been for my own wear, and he agreed to it. So I got £50
in money paid me that same night, and made an end of the bargain; nor
did he ever know who I was, or where to inquire for me, so that if it
had been discovered that part of the goods were embezzled, he could have
made no challenge upon me for it.
I very punctually divided this spoil with my governess, and I passed
with her from this time for a very dexterous manager in the nicest cases.
I found that this last was the best and easiest sort of work that was in
my way, and I made it my business to inquire out prohibited goods, and
after buying some, usually betrayed them, but none of these discoveries
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 115
amounted to anything considerable, not like that I related just now; but
I was cautious of running the great risks which I found others did, and
in which they miscarried every day.
The next thing of moment was an attempt at a gentlewoman's gold
watch. It happened in a crowd, at a meeting-house, where I was in very
great danger of being taken. I had full hold of her watch, but giving a
great jostle as if somebody had thrust me against her, and in the juncture
giving the watch a fair pull, I found it would not come, so I let it go
that moment, and cried as if I had been killed, that somebody had trod
upon my foot, and that there was certainly pickpockets there, for somebody
or other had given a pull at my watch; for you are to observe that on
these adventures we always went very well dressed, and I had very good
clothes on, and & gold watch by my side, as like a lady as other folks.
I had no sooner said so but the other gentlewoman cried out 'A
pickpocket ', too, for somebody, she said, had tried to pull her watch away.
When I touched her watch I was close to her, but when I cried out I
stopped as it wer« short, and the crowd bearing her forward a little, she
made a noise too, but it was at some distance from me, so that she did
not in the least suspect me & but when she cried out, 'A pickpocket',
somebody cried out, 'Ay, and here has been another; this gentlewoman
has been attempted too.'
At that very instant, a little farther in the crowd, and very luckily too,
they cried out 'A pickpocket' again, and really seized a young fellow in
the very fact. This, though unhappy for the wretch, was very opportunely
for my case, though I had carried it handsomely enough before; but now
it was out of doubt, and all the loose part of the crowd ran that way,
and the poor boy was delivered up to the rage of the street, which is a
cruelty I need not describe, and which, however, they are always glad of,
rather than be sent to Newgate, where they lie often a long time, and
sometimes they are hanged, and the best they can look for, if they are
convicted, is to be transported.
This was a narrow escape to me, and I was so frighted that I ventured
no more at gold watches a great while. There were indeed many circum
stances in this adventure which assisted to my escape; but the chief was,
that the woman whose watch I had pulled at was a fool; that is to say,
she was ignorant of the nature of the attempt, which one would have
thought she should not have been, seeing she was wise enough to fasten
her watch so that it could not be slipped up ; but she was in such a fright
that she had no thought about her; for she, when she felt the pull, screamed
out, and pushed herself forward, and put all the people about her into
disorder, but said not a word of her watch, or of a pickpocket, for at least
two minutes, which was time enough for me, and to spare; for as I had
cried out behind her, as I have said, and bore myself back in the crowd
as she bore forward, there were several people, at least seven or eight,
the throng being still moving on, that were got between me and her in
that time, and then I crying out 'A pickpocket' rather sooner than she.
she might as well be the person suspected as I, and the people were
confused in their inquiry; whereas, had she, with a presence of mind
needful on such an occasion, as soon as she felt the pull, not screamed
out as she did, but turned immediately round and seized the next body
that was behind her, she had infallibly taken me.
This is a direction not of the kindest sort to the fraternity, but 'tis
Il6 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
certainly a key to the clue of a pickpocket's motions; and whoever can
follow it, will as certainly catch the thief as he will be sure to miss if
he does not.
I had another adventure, which puts this matter out of doubt, and which
may be an instruction for posterity in the case of a pickpocket. My good
old governess, to give a short touch at her history, though she had left
off the trade, was, as I may say, born a pickpocket, and, as I understood
afterward, had run through all the several degrees of that art, and yet
had been taken but once, when she was so grossly detected that she was
convicted, and ordered to be transported; but being a woman of a rare
tongue, and withal having money in her pocket, she found means, the
ship putting into Ireland for provisions, to get on shore there, where she
practised her old trade some years ; when falling into another sort of com
pany, she turned midwife and procuress, and played a hundred pranks,
which she gave me a little history of, in confidence between us as we
grew more intimate; and it was to this wicked creature that I owed all
the dexterity I arrived to, in which there were few that ever went beyond
me, or that practised so long without any misfortune.
It was after those adventures in Ireland, and when she was pretty well
known in that country, that she left Dublin, and came over to England,
where the time of her transportation being not expired, she left her former
trade, for fear of falling into bad hands again, for then she was sure to
have gone to wreck. Here she set up the same trade she had followed
in Ireland, in which she soon, by her admirable management and a good
tongue, arrived to the height which I have already described, and indeed
began to be rich, though her trade fell again afterwards,
I mention thus much of the history of this woman here, the better to
account for the concern she had in the wicked life I was now leading,
into all the particulars of which she led me, as it were, by the hand,
and gave me such directions, and I so well followed them, that I grew
the greatest artist of my time, and worked myself out of every danger
with such dexterity, that when several more of my comrades ran them
selves into Newgate, by that time they had been half a year at the trade,
I had now practised upwards of five years, and the people at Newgate
did not so much as know me; they had heard much of me indeed, and
often expected me there, but I always got off, though many times in the
extremest danger.
One of the greatest dangers I was now in, was that I was too well known
among the trade, and some of them, whose hatred was owing rather to
envy than any injury I had done them, began to be angry that I should
always escape when they were always catched and hurried to Newgate.
These were they that gave me the name of Moll Flanders; for it was no
more of affinity with my real name, or with any of the names I had ever
gone by, than black is of kin to white, except that once, as before, I
called myself Mrs. Flanders, when I sheltered myself in the Mint; but
that these rogues never knew, nor could I ever learn how they came to
give me the name, or what the occasion of it was.
I was soon informed that some of these who were gotten fast into
Newgate had vowed to impeach me; and as I knew that two or three of
them were but too able to do it, I was under a great concern, and kept
within doors for a good while. But my governess, who was partner in
my success, and who now played a sure game, for she had no share in
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 1 /
the hazard — I say, my governess was something impatient of my leading
such a useless, unprofitable life, as she called it; and she laid a new
contrivance for my going abroad, and this was to dress me up in men's
clothes, and so put me into a new kind of practice.
I was tall and personable, but a little too smooth-faced for a man;
however, as I seldom went abroad but in the night, it did well enough;
but it was long before r"could Behave in my new clothes. It was imposs
ible to be so nimble, so ready, so dexterous at these things in a dress
contrary to nature; and as I did everything clumsily, so I had neither the
success or easiness of escape that I had before, and I resolved to leave it
off; but that resolution was confirmed soon after by the following accident.
As my governess had disguised me like a man, so she joined me with
a man, a young fellow that was nimble enough at his business, and for
about three weeks we did very well together. Our principal trade was
watching shopkeepers' counters, and slipping off any kinds of goods we
could see carelessly laid anywhere, and we made several good bargains,
as we called them, at this work. And as we kept always together, so we
frew very intimate, yet he never knew that I was not a man, nay, though
several times went home with him to his lodgings, according as our
business directed, and four or five times lay with him all night. But our
design lay another way, and it was absolutely necessary to me to conceal
my sex from him, as appeared afterwards. The circumstances of our living,
coming in late, and having such business to do as required that nobody
should be trusted with coming into our lodgings, were such as made it imposs
ible to me to refuse lying whith him, unless I would have owned my sex;
and as it was, I effectually concealed myself.
But his ill, and my good, fortune soon put an end to this life, which
I must own I was sick of too. We had made several prizes in this new
way of business, but the last would have been extraordinary. There was
a shop in a certain street which had a warehouse behind it that looked
into another street, the house making the corner.
Through the window of the warehouse we saw lying on the counter or
showboard, which was just before it, five pieces of silks, besides other
stuffs, and though it was almost dark, yet the people, being busy in the
fore-shop, had not had time to shut up those windows, or else had
forgot it.
This the young fellow was so overjoyed with, that he could not restrain
himself. It lay within his reach, he said, and he swore violently to me
that he would have it, if he broke down the house for it. I dissuaded
him a little, but saw there was no remedy; so he ran rashly upon it,
slipped out a square out of the sash window dexterously enough, and got
four pieces of the silks, and came with them towards me, but was imme
diately pursued with a terrible clutter and noise. We were standing together
indeed, but I had not taken any of the goods out of his hand, when I said
to him hastily, 'You are undone!' He ran like lightning, and I too, but
the pursuit was hotter after him, because he had the goods. He dropped
two of the pieces, which stopped them a little, but the crowd increased,
and pursued us both. They took him soon after with the other two pieces,
and then the rest followed me. I ran for it and got into my governess's
house, whither some quick-eyed people followed me so warmly as to fix
me there. They did not immediately knock at the door, by which I got
time to throw of my disguise and dress me in my own clothes; besides.
1 1 8 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
when they came there, my governess, who had her tale ready, kept her
door shut, and called out to them and told them there was no man come
in there. The people affirmed there did a man come in there, and swore
they would break open the door.
My governess, not at all surprised, spoke calmly to them, told them they
should very freely come and search her house, if they would bring a con
stable, and let in none but such as the constable would admit, for it was
unreasonable to let in a whole crowd. This they could not refuse, though
they were a crowd. So a constable was fetched immediately, and she very
freely opened the door; the constable kept the door, and the men he ap
pointed searched the house, my governess going with them from room to
room. When she came to my room she called to me, and said aloud,
'Cousin, pray open the door; here's some gentlemen that must come and
look into your room.'
I had a little girl with me, which was my governess's grandchild, as
she called her; and I bade her open the door, and there sat I at work
with a great litter of things about me, as if I had been at work all day,
being undressed, with only night-clothes on my head, and a loose morning-
gown about me. My governess made a kind of excuse for their disturbing
me, telling partly the occasion of it, and that she had no remedy but to
open the doors to them, and let them satisfy themselves, for all she could
say would not satisfy them. I sat still, and bid them search if they pleased,
for if there was anybody in the house, I was sure they were not in my
room; and for the rest of the house, I had nothing to say to that, I did
not understand what they looked for.
Everyhing looked so innocent and so honest about me, that they treated
me civiller than I expected; but it was not till they had searched the room
to a nicety, even under the bed, and in the bed, and everywhere else, where
it was possible anything could be hid. When they had done, and could
find nothing, they asked my pardon and went down.
When they had thus searched the house from bottom to top, and then
from top to bottom, and could find nothing, they appeased the mob pretty
well; but they carried my governess before the justice. Two men swore
that they saw the man whom they pursued go into her house. My gover
ness rattled and made a great noise that her house should be insulted,
and that she should be used thus for nothing; that if a man did come in,
he might go out again presently for aught she knew, for she was ready
to make oath that no man had been within her doors all that day as she
knew of, which was very true ; that it might be, that as she was above-
stairs, any fellow in a fright might find the door open, and run in for
shelter when he was pursued, but that she knew nothing of it; and if it
had been so, he certainly went out again, perhaps at the other door, for
she had another door into an alley, and so had made his escape.
This was indeed probable enough, and the justice satisfied himself with
giving her an oath that she had not received or admitted any man into
her house to conceal him, or protect or hide him from justice. This oath
she might justly take, and did so, and so she was dismissed.
It is easy to judge what a fright I was in upon this occasion, and it
was impossible for my governess ever to bring me to dress in that disguise
again; for, as I told her, I should certainly betray myself.
My poor partner in this mischief was now in a bad case, for he was
carried away before my Lord Mayor, and by his worship committed to
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 19
Newgate, and the people that took him were so willing, as well as able,
to prosecute him, that they offered themselves to enter into recognisances
to appear at the sessions, and pursue the charge against him.
However, he got his indictment deferred, upon promise to discover his
accomplices, and particularly the man that was concerned with him in this
robbery ; and he failed not to do his endeavour, for he gave in my name,
whom he called Gabriel Spencer, which was the name I went by to him ;
and here appeared the wisdom of my concealing myself from him, without
which I had been undone.
He did all he could to discover this Gabriel Spencer ; he described me ;
he discovered the place where he said I lodged; and, in a word, all the
particulars that he could of my dwelling; but having concealed the main
circumstances of my sex from him, I had a vast advantage, and he could
never hear of me. He brought two or three families into trouble by his
endeavouring to find me out, but they knew nothing of me, any more than
that he had a fellow with him that they had seen, but knew nothing of.
And as to my governess, though she was the means of his coming to me,
yet it was done at second-hand, and he knew nothing of her neither.
This turned to his disadvantage; for having promised discoveries, but
not being able to make it good, it was looked upon as trifling, and he
was the more fiercely pursued by the shopkeeper.
I was, however, terribly uneasy all this while, and that I might be quite
out of the way, I went away from my governess for a while; but not
knowing whither to wander, I took a maid-servant with me, and took the
stage-coach to Dunstable, to my old landlord and landlady, where I lived
so handsomely with my Lancashire husband. Here I told her a formal
story, that I expected my husband every day from Ireland, and that I had
sent a letter to him that I would meet him at Dunstable at her house,
and that he would certainly land, if the wind was fair, in a few days ; so
that I was come to spend a few days with them till he could come, for
he would either come post, or in the West Chester coach, I knew not
which; but whichsoever it was, he would be sure to come to that house
to meet me.
My landlady was mighty glad to see me, and my landlord made such
a stir with me, that if I had been a princess I could not have been better
used, and here I might have been welcome a month or two if I had
thought fit.
But my business was of another nature. I was very uneasy (though so
well disguised that it was scarce possible to detect me) lest this fellow
should find me out ; and though he could not charge me with the robbery,
having persuaded him not to venture, and having done nothing of it myself,
yet he might have charged me with other things, and have bought his own
life at the expense of mine.
This filled me with horrible apprehensions. I had no resource, no friend,
no confidant but my old governess, and I knew no remedy bnt to put my
life into her hands ; and so I did, for I let her know where to send to
me, and had several letters from her while I stayed here. Some of them
almost scared me out of my wits ; but at last she sent me the joyful news
that he was hanged, which was the best news to me that I had heard a
great while.
I had stayed here five weeks, and lived very comfortably indeed, the
secret anxiety of my mind excepted. But when I received this letter I
1 2O THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
looked pleasantly again, and told my landlady that I had received a letter
from my spouse in Ireland, that I had the good news of his being very
well, but had the bad news that his business would not permit him to
come away so soon as he expected, and so I was like to go back again
without him.
My landlady complimented me upon the good news, however, that I
had heard he was well. 'For I have observed, madam', says she, 'you
han't been so pleasant as you used to be; you have been over head and
ears in care for him, I dare say ', says the good woman ; ' 'tis easy to be
seen there's an alteration in you for the better' says she. 'Well, I am
sorry the squire can't come yet' says my landlord; 'I should have been
heartily glad to have seen him. When you have certain news of his
coming, you'll take a step hither again, madam', says he; 'you shall be
very welcome whenever you please to come.'
With all these fine compliments we parted, and I came merry enough
to London, and found my governess as well pleased as I was. And now
she told me she would never recommend any partner to me again, for
she always found, she said, that I had the best luck when I ventured by
myself. And so indeed I had, for I was seldom in any danger when I
was by myself, or if I was, I got out of it with more dexterity than when
I was entangled with the dull measures of other people, who had perhaps
less forecast, and were more impatient than I; for though I had as much
courage to venture as any of them, yet I used more caution before 1
undertook a thing, and had more presence of mind to bring myself off.
I have often wondered even at my own hardiness another way, that
when all my companions were surprised, and fell so suddenly into the
hand of justice, yet I could not all this while enter into one serious
resolution to leave off this trade, and especially considering that I was
now very far from being poor; that the temptation of necessity, which is
the general introduction of all such wickedness, was now removed ; that
I had near £500 by me in ready money, on which I might have lived
very well, if I had thought fit to have retired; but, I say, I had not so
much as the least inclination to leave off; no, not so much as I had
before, when I had but £200 beforehand, and when I had no such frightful
examples before my eyes as these were. From hence 'tis evident, that
when once we are hardened in crime, no fear can affect us, no example
give us any warning,
I had indeed one comrade, whose fate went very near me for a good
while, though I wore it off too in time. That case was indeed very
unhappy. I had made a prize of a piece of very good damask in a
mercer's shop, and went clear off myself, but had conveyed the piece to
this companion of mine, when we went out of the shop, and sne went
one way, I went another. We had not been long out of the shop but
the mercer missed the piece of stuff, and sent his messengers, one one
way, and one another, and they presently seized her that had the piece,
with the damask upon her; as for me, I had very luckily stepped into a
house where there was a lace chamber, up one pair of stairs, and had the
satisfaction, or the terror, indeed, of looking out of the window, and
seeing the poor creature dr: gged away to the justice, who immediately
committed her to Newgate.
I was careful to attempt nothing in the lace chamber, but tumbled their
goods pretty much to spend time; then bought a few yards of edging,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 2 1
and paid for it, and came away very sad-hearted indeed, for the poor
woman who was in tribulation for what I only had stolen.
Here again my old caution stood me in good stead 5 though I often
robbed with these people, yet I never let them know who I was, nor
could they ever find out my lodging, though they often endeavoured to
watch me to it. They all knew me by the name of Moll Flanders, though
even some of them rather believed I was she than knew me to be so.
My name was public among them indeed, but how to find me out they knew
not, nor so much as how to guess at my quarters, whether they were at
the east end of the town or the west; and this wariness was my safety
upon all these occasions.
I kept close a great while upon the occasion of this woman's disaster.
I knew that if I should do anything that should miscarry, and should be
carried to prison, she would be there, and ready to witness against me,
and perhaps save her life at my expense. I considered that I began to
be very well known by name at the Old Bailey, though they did not know
my face, and that if I should fall into their hands, I should be treated as
an old offender; and for this reason I was resolved to see what this poor
creature's fate should be before I stirred, though several times in her
distress I conveyed money to her for her relief.
At length she came to her trial. She pleaded she did not steal the
things, but that one Mrs Flanders, as she heard her called (for she did
not know her), gave the bundle to her after they came out of the shop,
and bade her carry it home, They asked her where this Mrs Flanders
was, but she could not produce her, neither could she give the least
account of me; and the mercer's men swearing positively that she was in
the shop when the goods were stolen, that they immediately missed them,
and pursued her, and found them upon her, thereupon the jury brought
her in guilty ; but the court considering that she really was not the person
that stole the goods, and that it was very possible she could not find out
this Mrs Flanders, meaning me, though it would save her life, which
indeed was true, they allowed her to be transported ; which was the utmost
favour she could obtain, only that the court told her, if she could in the
meantime produce the said Mrs Flanders, they would intercede for her
pardon ; that is to say, if she could find me out, and hang me, she should
not be transported. This I took care to make impossible to her, and so
she was shipped off in pursuance of her sentence a little while after.
I must repeat it again, that the fate of this poor woman troubled me
exceedingly, and I began to be very pensive, knowing that I was really
the instrument of her disaster; but my own life, which was so evidently
in danger, took off my tenderness : and seeing she was not put to death,
I was easy at her transportation, because she was then out of the way of
doing me any mischief, whatever should happen.
The disaster of this woman was some months before that of the last-
recited story, and was indeed partly the occasion of my governess proposing
to dress me up in men's clothes, that I might go about unobserved; but
I was soon tired of that disguise, as I have said, for it exposed me to
too many difficulties.
I was now easy as to all fear of witnesses against me, for all those
that had either been concerned with me, or thath^w me by the name
of Moll Flanders, were either hanged or transportij^Bfcad if I should have
had the misfortune to be taken, I might call mysewBything else, as well
I
122 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
as Moll Flanders and, no old sins could be placed to my account; so I
began to run a-tick again, with the more freedom, and several successful
adventures I made, though not such as I had made before.
We had at that time another fire happened not a great way off from
the place where my governess lived, and I made an attempt there as
before; but as I was not soon enough before the crowd of people came
in, and could not get to the house I aimed at, instead of a prize, I got
a mischief, which had almost put a period to my life and all my wicked
doings together ; for the fire being very furious, and the people in a great
fright in removing their goods, and throwing them out of window, a wench
from out of a window threw a feather-bed just upon me. It is true, the
bed being soft, it broke no bones ; but as the weight was great, and made
greater by the fall, it beat me down, and laid me dead for a while : nor
did the people concern themselves much to deliver me from it, or to
recover me at all; but I lay like one dead and neglected a good while,
till somebody going to remove the bed out of the way, helped me up.
It was indeed a wonder the people in the house had not thrown other
goods out after it, and which might have fallen upon it, and then I had
been inevitably killed; but I was reserved for further afflictions.
This accident, however, spoiled my market for that time, and I came
home to my governess very much hurt and frighted, and it was a good
while before she could set me upon my feet again.
It was now a merry time of the year, and Bartholomew Fair was begun.
I had never made any walks that way, nor was the fair of much advantage
to me ; but I took a turn this year into the cloisters, and there I fell into
one of the raffling shops. It was a thing of no great consequence to me,
but there came a gentleman extremely well dressed and very rich, and as
'tis frequent to talk to everybody in those shops, he singled me out, and
was very particufar with me. First he told me he would put in for me
to raffle, and did so 5 and some small matter coming to his lot, he presented
it to me — I think it was a feather muff; then he continued to keep talking
to me with a more than common appearance of respect, but still very civil,
and much like a gentleman.
He held me in talk so long, till at last he drew me out of the raffling
place to the shop-door, and then to take a walk in the cloister, still
talking of a thousand things cursorily without anything to the purpose.
At last he told me that he was charmed with my company, and asked
me if I durst trust myself in a coach with him; he told me he was a
man of honour, and would not offer anything to me unbecoming him. I
seemed to decline it a while, but suffered myself to be importuned a little,
and then yielded,
I was at a loss in my thoughts to conclude at first what this gentleman
designed; but I found afterward he had had some drink in his head, and
that he was not very unwilling to have some more. He carried me to
the Spring Garden, at Knightsbridge, where we walked in the gardens,
and he treated me very handsomely ; but I found he drank freely. He
pressed me also to drink, but I declined it.
Hitherto he kept his word with me, and offered me nothing amiss. We
came away in the coach again, and he brought me into the streets, and
by this time it was near ten o'clock at night, when he stopped the coach
at a house where, it seems, he was acquainted, and where they made
no scruple to show us upstairs into a room with a bed in it. At first I
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 123
seemed to be unwilling to go up, but after a few words I yielded to that
too, being indeed willing to see the end of it, and in hopes to make
something of it at last. As for the bed, &c., I was not much concerned
about that part.
Here he began to be a little freer with me than he had promised; and
I by little and little yielded to everything, so that, in a word, he did what
he pleased with, me; I need say no more. All this while he drank freely
too, and about one in the morning we went into the coach again. The
air and the shaking of the coach made the drink get more up in his head,
and he grew uneasy, and was for acting over again what he had been
doing before ; but as I thought my game now secure, I resisted, and
brought him to be a little still, which had not lasted five minutes but he
fell fast asleep.
I took this opportunity to search him to a nicety. I took a gold watch,
with a silk purse of gold, his fine full-bottom periwig and silver-fringed
gloves, his sword and fine snuff-box, and gently opening the coachdoor,
stood ready to jump out while the coach was going on ; but the coach
stopping in the narrow street beyond Temple Bar to let another coach
pass, I got softly out, fastened the door again, and gave my gentleman
and the coach the slip together.
This was an adventure indeed unlocked for, and perfectly undesigned
by me; though I was not so past the merry part of life as to forget how
to behave, when a fop so blinded by his appetite should not know an old
woman from a young. I did not indeed look so old as I was by ten or
twelve years ; yet I was not a young wench of seventeen, and it was easy
enough to be distinguished. There is nothing so absurd, so surfeiting, so
ridiculous, as a man heated by wine in his head, and a wicked gust in
his inclination together; he is in the possession of two devils at once,
and can no more govern himself by his reason than a mill can grind
without water ; vice tramples upon all that was in him that had any good
in it; nay, his very sense is blinded by its own rage, and he acts absurd
ities even in his view; such as drinking more, when he is drunk already;
picking up a common woman, without any regard to what she is or who
she is ; whether sound or rotten, clean or unclean ; whether ugly or hand
some, old or young; and so blinded as not really to distinguish. Such a
man is worse than lunatic; prompted by his vicious head, he no more
knows what he is doing than this wretch of mine knew when I picked
his pocket of his watch and his purse of gold.
These are the men of whom Solomon says, 'They go like an ox to the
slaughter, till a dart strikes through their liver ' — an admirable description,
by the way, of the foul disease, which is a poisonous deadly contagion
mingling with the blood, whose centre or fountain is in the liver; from
whence, by the swift circulation of the whole mass, that dreadful nauseous
plague strikes immediately through his liver, and his spirits are infected,
his vitals stabbed through as with a dart
It is true this poor unguarded wretch was in no danger from me, though
I was greatly apprehensive at first what danger I might be in from him;
but he was really to be pitied- in one respect, that he seemed to be a
good sort of a man in himself: a gentleman that had no harm in his
design; a man of sense, and of a fine behaviour, a comely handsome
person, a sober and solid countenance, a charming beautiful face, and
everything that could be agreeable; only had unhappily had some drink
124 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
the night before; had not been in bed, as he told me when we were
together; was hot, and his blood fired with wine, and in that condition
his reason, as it were asleep, had given him up.
As for me, my business was his money, and what I could make of
him; and after that, if I could have found out any way to have done it,
I would have sent him safe home to his house and to his family, for
'twas ten to one but he had an honest, virtuous wife and innocent children,
that were anxious for his safety, and would have been glad to have
gotten him home, and taken care of him, till he was restored to himself;
and then with what shame and regret would he look back upon himself!
how would he reproach himself with associating himself with a whore 1
picked up in the worst of all holes, the cloister, among the dirt and filth
of the town! how would he be trembling for fear he had got the pox,
for fear a dart had struck through his liver, and hate himself every time
he looked back upon the madness and brutality of his debauch! how
would he, if he had any principles of honour, abhor the thought of giving
any ill distemper, if he had it, as for aught he knew he might, to his
modest and virtuous wife, and thereby sowing the contagion in the life-
blood of his posterity!
Would such gentlemen but consider the contemptible thoughts which the
very women they are concerned with, in such cases as these, have of them,
it would be a surfeit to them. As I said above, they value not the
pleasure, they are raised by no inclination to the man, the passive jade
thinks of no pleasure but the money; and when he is, as it were, drunk
in the ecstasies of his wicked pleasure, her hands are in his pockets for
what she can find there, and of which he can no more be sensible in the
moment of his folly than he can fore-think of it when he goes about it.
I knew a woman that was so dexterous with a fellow, who indeed
deserved no better usage, that while he was busy with her another way,
conveyed his purse with twenty guineas in it out of his fob-pocket, where
he had put it for fear of her, and put another purse with gilded counters
in it into the room of it. After he had done he says to her, 'Now han't
you picked my pocket?' She jested with him, and told him she supposed
he had not much to lose ; he put his hand to his fob, and with his fingers
felt that his purse was there, which fully satisfied him, and so she brought
off his money. And this was a trade with her; she kept a sham gold
watch and a purse of counters in her pocket to be ready on all such
occasions, and I doubt not practised it with success.
I came home with this last booty to my governess,, and really when I
told her the story, it so affected her that she was hardly able to forbear
tears, to think how such a gentleman ran a daily risk of being undone,
every time a glass of wine got into his head.
But as to the purchase I got, and how entirely I stripped him, she told
me it pleased her wonderfully. 'Nay, child', says she, 'the usage may,
for aught I know, do more to reform him than all the sermons that ever
he will hear in his life.' And if the remainder of the story be true, so
it did.
I found the next day she was wonderful inquisitive about this gentle
man; the description I gave her of him, his dress, his person, his face,
all concurred to make her think of a gentleman whose character she
knew. She mused a while, and I going on in the particulars, says she.
•I lay £ 100 I know the man.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 12$
•I am sorry if you do', says I, 'for I would not have him exposed on
any account in the world ; he has had injury enough already, and I would
not be instrumental to do him any more.' 'No, no', says she; 'I will do
him no injury, but you may let me satisfy my curiosity a little, for if it
is he, I warrant you I find it out.' I was a little startled at that, and I
told her, with an apparent concern in my face, that by the same rule he
might find me out, and then I was undone. She returned warmly, ' Why,
do you think I will betray you, child ? No, no ', says she, ' not for all he
is worth in the world. I have kept your counsel in worse things than
these? sure you may trust me in this.' So I said no more.
She laid her scheme another way, and without acquainting me with it,
but she was resolved to find it out. So she goes to a certain friend of
hers, who was acquainted in the family that she guessed at, and told her
she had some extraordinary business with such a gentleman (who, by the
way, was no less than a baronet and of a very good family), and that she
knew not how to come at him without somebody to introduce her. Her
friend promised her readily to do it, and accordingly goes to the house
to see if the gentleman was in town.
The next day she comes to my governess and tells her that Sir was
at home, but that he had met with a disaster and was very ill, and there
was no speaking to him. 'What disaster?' says my governess hastily, as
if she was surprised at it. ' Why ', says her friend, ' he had been at Hamp-
stead to visit a gentleman of his acquaintance, and as he came back again,
he was set upon and robbed; and having got a little drink too, as they
suppose, the rogues abused him, and he is very ill.' 'Robbed!' says my
governess, 'and what did they take from him?' 'Why', says her friend,
'they took his gold watch and his gold snuff-box, his fine periwig, and
what money he had in his pocket, which was considerable, to be sure,
for Sir never goes without a purse of guineas about him.'
'Pshaw!', says my old governess, jeering, 'I warrant you he has
got drunk now, and got a whore, and she has picked his pocket, and
so he comes home to his wife and tells her he has been robbed;
that's an old sham; a thousand such tricks are put upon the poor women
every day.'
'Fie!' says her friend; 'I find you don't know Sir ; why, he is as
civil a gentleman, there is not a finer man, nor a soberer, modester person
in the whole city ; he abhors such things ; there's nobody that knows him
will think such a thing of him.' 'Well, well', says my governess, 'that's
none of my business; if it was, I warrant I should find there was something
of that in it; your modest men in common opinion are sometimes no
better than other people, only they keep a better character, or, if you
please, are the better hypocrites.'
'No, no', says her friend, 'I can assure you Sir is no hypocrite ; he
is really an honest, sober gentleman, and he has certainly been robbed.'
'Nay', says my governess, 'it may be he has; it is no business of mine,
I tell you; I only want to speak with him; my business is of another
nature.' 'But', says her friend, 'let your business be of what nature it
will, you cannot see him yet, for he is not fit to be seen, for he is very
ill, and bruised very much.' 'Ay', says my governess, 'nay, then he has
fallen into bad hands, to be sure.' And then she asked gravely, 'Pray,
where is he bruised?' 'Why, in his head', says her friend, 'and one of
his hands, and his face, for they used him barbarously.' 'Poor gentleman'.
i
126 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
says my governess. 'I must wait, then, till he recovers'; and adds, 4I
hope it will not be long.'
Away she comes to me, and tells me this story. 'I have found out
your fine gentleman, and a fine gentleman he was', says she; 'but, mercy
on him, he is in a sad pickle now. I wonder what the d you have
done to him ; why, you have almost killed him.' I looked at her with
disorder enough. 'I killed him!' says I; 'you must mistake the person;
I am sure I did nothing to him ; he was very well when I left him ', said
I, 'only drunk and fast asleep.' 'I know nothing of that', says she; 'but
he is in a sad pickle now'; and so she told me all that her friend had
said. 'Well, then', says I, 'he fell into bad hands after I left him, for
I left him safe enough.'
About ten days after, my governess goes again to her friend, to intro
duce her to this gentleman; sne had inquired other ways in the meantime,
and found that he was about again, so she got leave to speak with him.
She was a woman of an admirable address, and wanted nobody to
introduce her ; she told her tale much better than I shall be able to tell it
for her, for she was mistress of her tongue, as I said already. She told him
that she came, though a stranger, with a single design of doing him a service,
and he should find she had no other end in it; that as she came purely on so
friendly an account, she begged a promise from him, that if he did not
accept what she should officiously propose, he would not take it ill that
she meddled with what was not her business; she assured him that as
what she had to say was a secret that belonged to him only, so whether
he accepted her offer or not, it should remain a secret to all the world,
unless he exposed it himself; nor should his refusing her service in it make
her so little show her respect as to do him the least injury, so that he
should be entirely at liberty to act as he thought fit.
He looked very shy at first, and said he knew nothing that related to
him that required much secrecy; that he had never done any man any
wrong, and cared not what anybody might say of him ; that it was no part
of his character to be unjust to anybody, nor could he imagine in what
any man could render him any service; but that if it was as she said, he
could not take it ill from any one that should endeavour to serve him;
and so, as it were, left her at liberty either to tell him or not to tell him,
as she thought fit.
She found him so perfectly indifferent, that she was almost afraid to
enter into the point with him ; but, however, after some other circumlocutions,
she told him, that by a strange and unaccountable accident she came to
have a particular knowledge of the late unhappy adventure he had fallen
into, and that in such a manner that there was nobody in the world but
herself and him that were acquainted with it, no, not the very person that
was with him.
He looked a little angrily at first. 'What adventure?' said he. 'Why,
sir', said she, "of your being robbed coming from Knightsbr — ; Hampstead,
sir, I should say', says she. 'Be not surprised, sir', says she, 'that I am
able to tell you every step you took that day from the cloister in Smithfield
to the Spring Garden at Knightsbridge, and thence to the in the Strand,
and how you were left asleep in the coach afterwards. I say, let not this
surprise you, for, sir, I do not come to make a booty of you, I ask nothing
of you, and I assure you the woman that was with you knows nothing
who you are, and never shall; and yet perhaps I may serve you further
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS I2/
still, for I did not come barely to let you know that I was informed of
these things, as if I wanted a bribe to conceal them; assure yourself, sir',
said she, 'that whatever you think fit to do or say to me, it shall be all
a secret, as it is, as much as if I were in my grave.'
He was astonished at her discourse, and said gravely to her, 'Madam,
you are a stranger to me, but it is very unfortunate that you should be
let into the secret of the worst action of my life, and a thing that I am
justly ashamed of, in which the only satisfaction I had was, that I thought
it was known only to God and my own conscience/ 'Pray, sir', says she,
' do not reckon the discovery of it to me to be any part of your misfortune.
It was a thing, I believe, you were surprised into, and perhaps the woman
used some art to prompt you to it. However, you will never find any
just cause', said she, 'to repent that I came to hear of it; nor can your
mouth be more silent in it than I have been, and ever shall be.'
'Well', says he, 'but let me do some justice to the woman too; whoever
she is, I do assure you she prompted me to nothing, she rather declined
me. It was my own folly and madness that brought me into it all ; ay,
and brought her into it too ; I must give her her due so far. As to what
she took from me, I could expect no less from her in the condition I was
in, and to this hour I know not whether she robbed me or the coachman ;
if she did it, I forgive her. I think all gentlemen that do so should be
used in the same manner; but I am more concerned for some other things
than I am for all that she took from me.'
My governess now began to come into the whole matter, and he opened
himself freely to her. First, she said to him, in answer to what he had
said about me, 'I am glad, sir, you are so just to the person that you
were with. I assure you she is a gentlewoman, and no woman of thf
town; and however you prevailed with her as you did, I am sure 'tis no
her practice. You ran a great venture indeed, sir; but if that be part of
your care, you may be perfectly easy, for I do assure you no man has
touched her before you, since her husband, and he has been dead now
almost eight years.'
It appeared that this was his grievance, and that he was in a very great
fright about it ; however, when my governess said this to him, he appeared
very well pleased, and said, 'Well, madam, to be plain with you, if I was
satisfied of that, the temptation was great, and perhaps she was poor, and
wanted it.' 'If she had not been poor, sir', says she, 'I assure you she
would never have yielded to you; and as her poverty first prevailed with
you to let you do as you did, so the same poverty prevailed with her to
pay herself at last, when she saw you was in such a condition, that if she
had not done it, perhaps the next coachman or chairman might have done
it more to your hurt.'
'Well', says he, 'much good may it do her. I say again, all the
gentlemen that do so ought to be used in the same manner, and then they
would be cautious of themselves. I have no concern about it, but on the
score which you hinted at before.' Here he entered into some freedoms
with her on the subject of what passed between us, which are not so
proper for a woman to write, and the great terror that was upon his mind
with relation to his wife, for fear he should have received any injury
from me, and should communicate it farther; and asked her at last if she
could not procure him an opportunity to speak with me. My governess
gave him further assurances of my being a woman clear from any such
128 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
thing, and that he was as entirely safe in that respect as he was with his
own lady; but, as for seeing me, she said, it might be of dangerous
consequence ; but, however, that she would talk with me, and let him know,
endeavouring at the same time to persuade him not to desire it, and that
it could be of no service to him, seeing she hoped he had no desire to
renew the correspondence, and that on my account it was a kind of putting
my life in his hands.
He told her he had a great desire to see me, that he would give her
any assurances that were in his power not to take any advantages of me,
and that in the first place he would give me a general release from all
demands of any kind. She insisted how it might tend to further divulging
the secret, and might be injurious to him, entreating him not to press for
it; so at length he desisted.
They had some discourse upon the subject of the things he had lost,
and he seemed to be very desirous of his gold watch, and told her, if she
could procure that for him, he would willingly give as much for it as it
was worth. She told him she would endeavour to procure it for him, and
leave the valuing it to himself,
Accordingly the next day she carried the watch, and he gave her thirty
guineas for it, which was more than I should have been able to make of
it, though it seems it cost much more. He spoke something of his periwig,
which it seems cost him threescore guineas, and his snuff-box ; and in a
few days more she carried them too, which obliged him very much, and
he gave her thirty more. The next day I sent him his fine sword and
cane gratis, and demanded nothing of him, but had no mind to see him,
unless he might be satisfied I knew who he was, which he was not
willing to.
Then he entered into a long talk with her of the manner how she came
to know all this matter. She formed a long tale of that part; how she
had it from one that I had told the whole story to, and that was to help
me dispose of the goods; and this confidante brought things to her, she
being by profession a pawnbroker ; and she, hearing of his worship's disaster,
guessed at the thing in general; that having gotten the things into her
hands, she had resolved to come and try as she had done. She then gave
him repeated assurances that it should never go out of her mouth, and
though she knew the woman very well, yet she had not let her know,
meaning me, anything of who the person was, which, by the way, was
false; but, however, it was not to his damage, for I never opened my
mouth of it to anybody.
I. had a great many thoughts in my head about my seeing him again,
and was often sorry that I had refused it. I was persuaded that if I had
seen him, and let him know that I knew him, I should have made some
advantage of him, and perhaps have had some maintenance from him ; and
though it was a life wicked enough, yet it was not so full of danger as
this I was engaged in. However, those thoughts wore off, and I declined
seeing him again, for that time; but my governess saw him often, and he
was very kind to her, giving her something almost every time he saw her.
One time in particular she found him very merry, and, as she thought, he
had some wine in his head then, and he pressed her again to let him see
the woman that, as he said, had bewitched him so that night, my governess,
who was from the beginning for my seeing him, told him he was so
desirous of it that she could almost yield to it, if she could prevail upon
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 129
me; adding that if he would please to come to her house in the evening,
she would endeavour it, upon his repeated assurances of forgetting what
was past.
Accordingly she came to me, and told me all the discourse; In short,
she soon biassed me to consent, in a case which I had some regret in my
mind for declining before; so I prepared to see him. I dressed me to
all the advantage possible, I assure you, and for the first time used a little
art; I say for the first time, for 1 had never yielded to the baseness
of paint before, having always had vanity enough to believe I had no
need of it.
At the hour appointed he came; and as she observed before, so it was
plain still, that he had been drinking, though very far from what we call
being in drink. He appeared exceeding pleased to see me, and entered
into a long discourse with me upon the whole affair. I begged his pardon
very often for my share of it, protested I had not any such design when
first I met him, that I had not gone out with him but that I took him for
a very civil gentleman, and that he made me so many promises of offering
no incivility to me.
He alleged the wine he drank, and that he scarce knew what he did,
and that if it had not been so, he should never have taken the freedom
with me he had done. He protested to me that he never touched any
woman but me since he was married to his wife, and it was a surprise upon
him ; complimented me upon being so particularly agreeable to him, and the
like; and talked so much of that kind, till I found he had talked himself
almost into a temper to do the thing again. But I took him up short.
I protested I had never suffered any man to touch me since my husband
died, which was near eight years. He said he believed it; and added that
madam had intimated as much to him, and that it was his opinion of
that part which made him desire to see me again; and, since he had once
broken in upon his virtue with me and found no 111 consequences, he
could be safe in venturing again ; and so, in short, he went on to what I
exoected, and to what will not bear relating.
My old governess had foreseen it, as well as I, and therefore led him
into a room which had not a bed in it, and yet had a chamber within it
which had a bed, whither we withdrew for the rest of the night; and, in
short, after some time being together, he went to bed, and lay there all
night. I withdrew, but came again undressed before it was day, and lay
with him the rest of the time.
Thus, you see, having committed a crime once is a sad handle to the
committing of it again; all the reflections wear off when the temptation
renews itself. Had I not yielded to see him again, the corrupt desire in
him had worn off, and 'tis very probable he had never fallen into it with
anybody else, as I really believe he had not done before.
When he went away, I told him I hoped he was satisfied he had not
been robbed again. He told me he was fully satisfied in that point, and
putting his hand in his pocket, gave me five guineas, which was the first
money I had gained that way for many years.
I had several visits of the like kind from him, but he never came into
a settled way of maintenance, which was what I would have been best
pleased with. Once, indeed, he asked me how I did to live, I answered
him pretty quick, that I assured him I had never taken that course that
I took with him, but that indeed I worked at my needle, and could just
130 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
maintain myself; that sometimes it was as much as I was able to do, and
I shifted hard enough.
He seemed to reflect upon himself that he should be the first person
to lead me into that which he assured me he never intended to do him
self; and it touched him a little, he said, that he should be the cause of
his own sin and mine too. He would often make just reflections also upon
the crime itself, and upon the particular circumstances of it, with respect
to himself; how wine introduced the inclinations, how the devil led him
to the place, and found out an object to tempt him, aud he made the
moral always himself.
When these thoughts were upon him he would go away, and perhaps
not come again in a month's time or longer; but then, as the serious part
wore off, the lewd part would wear in, and then he came prepared for
the wicked part. Thus we lived for some time ; though he did not keep,
as they call it, yet he never failed doing things that were handsome, and
sufficient to maintain me without working, and, which was better, without
following my old trade.
But this affair had its end too; for after about a year, I found that he
did not come so often as usual, and at last he left it off altogether without
any dislike or bidding adieu ; and so there was an end of that short scene
of life, which added no great store to me, only to make more work for
repentance.
During this interval I confined myself pretty much at home; at least,
being thus provided for, I made no adventures, no, not for a quarter of
a year after; but then finding the fund fail, and being loth to spend upon
the main stock, I began to think of my old trade, and to look abroad
into the street; and my first step was lucky enough.
I had dressed myself up in a very mean habit, for as I had several
shapes to appear in, I was now in an ordinary stuff gown, a blue apron,
and a straw hat; and I placed myself at the door of the Three Cups Inn
in St John's Street. There were several carriers used the inn, and the
stage-coaches for Earner, for Totteridge, and other towns that way stood
always in the street in the evening, when they prepared to set out, so
that I was ready for anything that offered. The meaning was this ; people
come frequently with bundles and small parcels to those inns, and call
for such carriers or coaches as they want, to carry them into the country;
and there generally attend women, porters' wives or daughters, ready to
take in such things for the people that employ them.
It happened very oddly that I was standing at the inn-gate, and a
woman that stood there before, and which was the porter's wife belonging
to the Barnet stage-coach, having observed me, asked if I waited for any
of the coaches. I told her, yes, I waited for my mistress, that was coming
to go to Barnet. She asked me who was my mistress, and I told her any
madam's name that came next me ; but it seemed I happened upon a
name, a family of which name lived at Hadley, near Barnet.
I said no more to her, or she to me, a good while; but by-and-by,
somebody calling her at a door a little way off, she desired me that if
anybody called for the Barnet coach, I would step and call her at the
house, which it seems was an alehouse. I said ' Yes ', very readily, and
away she went.
She was no sooner gone but comes a wench and a child, ouffing and
sweating, and asks for the Barnet coach. I answered presently, 'Here.'
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 13!
'Do you belong to the Barnet coach?' says she. 'Yes, sweetheart', said I;
' what do you want ? ' 'I want room for two passengers ', says she. ' Where
are they, sweetheart ? ' said L ' Here's this girl ; pray let her go into the
coach', says she; 'and I'll go and fetch my mistress.' 'Make haste, then,
sweetheart', says I, 'for we may be full else.' The maid had a great
bundle under her arm; so she put the child into the coach, and I said,
'You had best put your bundle into the coach too.' 'No', said she; 'I
am afraid somebody should slip it away from the child.' 'Give it me,
then* said I. 'Take it, then', says she; 'and be sure you take care of it.'
'I'll answer for it', said I, 'if it were £20 value.' 'There, take it, then',
says she, and away she goes.
As soon as I got the bundle, and the maid was out of sight, I goes
on towards the alehouse, where the porter's wife was, so that if I had
met her, I had then only been going to give her the bundle and to call
her to her business, as if I was going away, and could stay no longer;
but as I did not meet her, I walked away, and turning into Charterhouse
Lane, made off through Charterhouse Yard, into Long Lane, then into
Bartholomew, Close, so into Little Britain, and through the Bluecoat Hospital,
to Newgate Street.
To prevent being known, I pulled off my blue apron, and wrapt the
bundle in it, which was made up in a piece of painted calico; I also
wrapt up my straw hat in it, and so put the bundle upon my head; and
it was very well that I did thus, for coming through the Bluecoat Hos
pital, who should I meet but the wench that had given me the bundle
to hold. It seems she was going with her mistress, whom she had been
to fetch, to the Barnet coaches.
I saw she was in haste, and I had no business to stop her; so away
she went, and I brought my bundle safe to my governess. There was
no money, plate, or jewels in it, but a very good suit of Indian damask,
a gown and petticoat, a laced head and ruffles of very good Flanders
lace, and some other things, such as I knew very well the value of.
This was not indeed my own invention, but was given me by one that
Practised it with success, and my governess liked it extremely ; and indeed
tried it again several times, though never twice near the same place;
for the next time I tried in Whitechapel, just by the corner of Petticoat
Lane, where the coaches stand that go out to Stratford and Bow, and that
side of the country; and another time at the Flying Horse without
Bishopsgate, where the Cheston coaches then lay; and I had always the
good luck to come off with some booty.
Another time I placed myself at a warehouse by the water-side, where
the coasting vessels from the north come, such as Newcastle-upon-Tyne,
Sunderland, and other places. Here, the warehouse being shut, comes a
young fellow with a letter; and he wanted a box and a hamper that was
come from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I asked him if he had the marks of it;
so he shows me the letter, by virtue of which he was to ask for it, and
which gave an account of the contents, the box being full of linen and
the hamper full of glass ware. I read the letter, and took care to see
the name, and the marks, the name of the person that sent the goods,
and the name of the person they were sent to; then I bade the messenger
come in the morning, for that the warehouse-keeper would not be there
any more that night.
Away went I, and wrote a letter from Mr, John Richardson of New-
132 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
castle to his dear cousin, Jemmy Cole, in London, with an account that
he had sent by such a vessel (for I remembered all the particulars to a
tittle) so many pieces of huckaback linen, and so many ells of Dutch
holland, and the like, in a box, and a hamper of flint glasses from
Mr Henzill's glass-house; and that the box was marked I. C. No. I, and
the hamper was directed by a label on the cording.
About an hour after, I came to the warehouse, found the warehouse-
keeper, and had the goods delivered me without any scruple; the value
of the linen being about £22.
I could fill up this whole discourse with the variety of such adventures,
which daily invention directed to, and which I managed with the utmost
dexterity, and always with success.
At length— as when does the pitcher come safe home that goes so often
to the well? — I fell into some broils, which though they could not affect
me fatally, yet made me known, which was the worst thing next to being
found guilty that could befall me.
I had taken up the disguise of a widow's dress ; it was without any
real design in view, but only waiting for anything that might offer, as I
often did. It happened that while I was going along a street in Covent
Garden, there was a great cry of 'Stop thief! stop thief!' Some artists
had, it seems, put a trick upon a shopkeeper, and being pursued, some
of them fled one way and some another; and one of them was, they
said, dressed up in widow's weeds, upon which the mob gathered about
me, and some said I was the person, others said no, Immediately came
the mercer's journeyman, and he swore aloud I was the person, and so
seized on me. However, when I was brought back by the mob to the
mercer's shop, the master of the house said freely that I was not the
woman, and would have let me go immediately, but another fellow said
gravely, 'Pray stay till Mr ', meaning the journeyman, 'comes back,
for he knows her'; so they kept me near half-an-hour.
They had called a constable, and he stood in the shop as my jailer. In
talking with the constable I inquired where he lived, and what trade he
was; the man not apprehending in the least what happened afterwards,
readily told me his name, and where he lived; and told me, as a jest, that
I might be sure to hear of his name when I came to the Old Bailey. The
servants likewise used me saucily, and had much ado to keep their hands
off me ; the master indeed was civiller to me than they ; but he would not
let me go, though he owned I was not in his shop before.
I began to be a little surly with him, and told him I hoped he would
not take it ill if I made myself amends upon him another time ; and desired
I might send for friends to see me have right done. No, he said, he could
give no such liberty; I might ask it when I came before the justice of the
peace; and seeing I threatened him, he would take care of me in the
meantime, and would lodge me safe in Newgate. I told him it was his
time now, but it would be mine by-and-by, and governed my passion as
well as I was able. However, I spoke to the constable to call me a porter,
which he did, and then I called for pen, ink, and paper, but they would
let me have none. I asked the porter his name, and where he lived, and
the poor man told it me very willingly. I bade him observe and remember
how I was treated there; that he saw I was detained there by force. I
told him I should want him in another place, and it should not be the
worse for him to speak. The porter said he would serve me with all hii
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 133
heart. 'But, madam', says he, 'let me hear them refuse to let you go,
then I may be able to speak the plainer.'
With that, I spoke aloud to the master of the shop, and said, ' Sir, you
know in your own conscience that I am not the person you look for, and
that I was not in your shop before; therefore I demand that you detain
me here no longer, or tell me the reason of your stopping me.' The fellow
grew surlier upon this than before, and said he would do neither till he
thought fit. 'Very well', said I to the constable and to the porter; 'you
will be pleased to remember this, gentlemen, another time.' The porter
said, ' Yes, madam ' ; and the constable began not to like it, and would
have persuaded the mercer to dismiss him, and let me go, since, as he
said, he owned I was not the person. ' Good sir ', says the mercer to him
tauntingly, ' are you a justice of peace or a constable ? I charged you with
her; pray do your duty.' The constable told him, a little moved, but very
handsomely, 'I know my duty, and what I am, sir; I doubt you hardly
know what you are doing.' They had some other hard words, and in the
meantime the journeymen, impudent and unmanly to the last degree, used
me barbarously, and one of them, the same that first seized upon me,
pretended he would search me, and began to lay hands on me. I spit in
his face, called out to the constable, and bade him take notice of my
usage. ' And pray, Mr Constable ', said I, ' ask that villain's name ', point
ing to the man. The constable reproved him decently, told him that he
did not know what he did, for he knew that his master acknowledged I
was not the person; 'and', says the constable, 'I am afraid your master
is bringing himself, and me too, into trouble, if this gentlewoman comes
to prove who she is, and where she was, and it appears that she is not
the woman you pretend to.' 'D — n her', says the fellow again, with an
impudent, hardened face; 'she is the lady, you may depend upon it; I'll
swear she is the same body that was in the shop, and that I gave the
piece of satin that is lost into her own hand. You shall hear more of it
when Mr William and Mr Anthony (those were other journeymen) come
back; they will know her again as well as I.'
Just as the insolent rogue was talking thus to the constable, comes back
Mr William and Mr Anthony, as he called them, and a great rabble with
them, bringing along with them the true widow that I was pretended to
be; and they came sweating and blowing into the shop, and with a great
deal of triumph, dragging the poor creature in a most butcherly manner
up towards their master, who was in the back-shop; and they cried out
aloud, 'Here's the widow, sir; we have catched her at last.' 'What do you
mean by that?' says the master. 'Why, we have her already; there she
sits, and Mr says he can swear this is she.' The other man, whom
they called Mr. Anthony, replied, 'Mr may say what he will and
swear what he will, but this is the woman, and there's the remnant of
satin she stole; I took it out of her clothes with my own hand.'
I now began to take a better heart, but smiled, and said nothing; the
master looked pale ; the constable turned about and looked at me. ' Let
'em alone, Mr Constable', said I; 'let 'em go on.' The case was plain
and could not be denied, so the constable was charged with the right thief,
and the mercer told me very civilly he was sorry for the mistake, and
hoped I would not take it ill ; that they had so many things of this nature
put upon them every day that they could not be blamed for being very
sharp in doing themselves justice. 'Not take it ill, sir!' said I. 'How
134 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
can I take it well? If you had dismissed me when your insolent fellow
seized on me iu the street and brought me to you, and when you yourself
acknowledged I was not the person, I would have put it by, and not have
taken it ill, because of the many ill things I believe you have put upon
you daily; but your treatment of me since has been insufferable, and espe
cially that of your servant; I must and will have reparation for that.'
Then he began to parley with me, said he would make me any reason
able satisfaction, and would fain have had me told him what it was I
expected. I told him I should not be my own judge; the law should decide
it for me; and as I was to be carried before a magistrate, I should let
him hear there what I had to say. He told me there was no occasion to
go before the justice now; I was at liberty to go where I pleased; and
calling to the constable, told him he might let me go, for I was discharged.
The constable said calmly to him, 'Sir, you asked me just now if I knew
whether I was a constable or a justice, and bade me do my duty, and
charged me with this gentlewoman as a prisoner. Now, sir, I find you
do not understand what is my duty, for you would make me a justice
indeed; but I must tell you it is not in my power; I may keep a prisoner
when I am charged with him, but 'tis the law and the magistrate alone
that can discharge that prisoner; therefore, 'tis a mistake, sir; I must carry
her before a justice now, whether you think well of it or not.' The mercer
was very high with the constable at first; but the constable happening to
be not a hired officer, but a good, substantial kind of man (I think he
was a corn-chandler), and a man of good sense, stood to his business,
would not discharge me without going to a justice of the peace, and I
insisted upon it too. When the mercer saw that, 'Well', says he to the
constable, 'you may carry her where you please; I have nothing to say
to her.' ' But, sir ', says the constable, ' you will go with us, I hope, for
'tis you that charged me with her.' 'No, not I', says the mercer; 'I tell
you I have nothing to say to her.' 'But pray, sir, do', says the constable;
'I desire it of you for your own sake, for the justice can do nothing
without you.' 'Prithee, fellow', says the mercer, 'go about your business;
I tell you I have nothing to say to the gentlewoman. I charge you in the
king's name to dismiss her.' 'Sir', says the constable, 'I find you don't
know what it is to be a constable; I beg of you, don't oblige me to be
rude to you.' 'I think I need not; you are rude enough already', says the
mercer. 'No, sir', says the constable, 'I am not rude; you have broken
the peace in bringing an honest woman out of the street, when she was
about her lawful occasions, confining her in your shop, and ill-using her
here by your servants; and now can you say I am rude to you? I think
I am civil to you in not commanding you in the king's name to go with
me, and charging every man I see that passes your door to aid and assist
me in carrying you by force; this you know I have power to do, and yet
I forbear it, and once more entreat you to go with me.' Well, he would
not for all this, and gave the constable ill language. However, the constable
kept his temper, and would not be provoked ; and then I put in and said,
'Come, Mr. Constable, let him alone; I shall find ways enough to fetch
him before a magistrate, I don't fear that; but there's that fellow', says
I, ' he was the man that seized on me as I ways innocently going along
the street, and you are a witness of his violence with me since; give me
leave to charge you with him, and carry him before a justice.' 'Yes, madam',
says the constable; and, turning to the fellow, 'Come, young gentleman',
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 135
says he to the journeyman, 'you must go along with us; I hope you are
not above the constable's power, though your master is.'
The fellow looked like a condemned thief, and hung back, then looked
at his master, as if he could help him; and he, like a fool, encouraged
the fellow to be rude, and he truly resisted the constable, and pushed him
back with a good force when he went to lay hold on him, at which the
constable knocked him down, and called out for help. Immediately the
shop was filled with people, and the constable seized the master and man,
and all his servants.
The first ill consequence of this fray was, that the woman who was
really the thief made off, and got clear away in the crowd, and two others
that they had stopped also; whether they were really guilty or not, that I
can say nothing to.
By this time some of his neighbours having come in, and seeing how
things went, had endeavoured to bring the mercer to his senses, and he
began to be convinced that he was in the wrong; and so at length we
went all very quietly before the justice, with a mob of about five hundred
people at our heels ; and all the way we went I could hear the people
ask what was the matter, and others reply and say, a mercer had stopped
a gentlewoman instead of a thief, and had afterwards taken the thief, and
now the gentlewoman had taken the mercer, and was carrying him before
the justice. This pleased the people strangely, and made the crowd increase,
and they cried out as they went, 'Which is the rogue? which is the mercer?'
and especially the women. Then when they saw him they cried out, ' That's
he, that's he'; and every now and then came a good dab of dirt at him;
and thus we marched a good while, till the mercer thought fit to desire
the constable to call a coach to protect himself from the rabble; so we
rode the rest of the way, the constable and I, and the mercer and his man.
When we came to the justice, which was an ancient gentleman in
Bloomsbury, the constable giving first a summary account of the matter, the
justice bade me speak, and tell what I had to say. And first he asked
my name, which I was very loth to give, but there was no remedy; so I
told him my name was Mary Flanders, that I was a widow, my husband
being a sea-captain, died on a voyage to Virginia; and some other circum
stances I told which he could never contradict, and that I lodged at present
in town, with such a person, naming my governess ; but that I was preparing
to go over to America, where my husband's effects lay, and that I was
going that day to buy some clothes to put myself into second mourning,
but had not yet been in any shop, when that fellow, pointing to the mercer's
journeyman, came rushing upon me with such fury as very much frighted
me, and carried me back to his master's shop, where, though his master
acknowledged I was not the person, yet he would not dismiss me, but
charged a constable with me.
Then I proceeded to tell how the journeymen treated me; how they
would not suffer me to send for any of my friends; how afterwards they
found the real thief, and took the goods they had lost upon her, and all
the particulars as before.
Then the constable related his case; his dialogue with the mercer about
discharging me, and at last his servant's refusing to go with him. when
I had charged him with him, and his master encouraging him to do so,
and at last his striking the constable, and the like, ail as I have told it
already.
1 36 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
The justice then heard the mercer and his man. The mercer indeed made
a long harangue of the great loss they have daily by the lifters and thieves ;
that it was easy for them to mistake, and that when he found it, he would
have dismissed me, &c., as above. As to the journeyman, he had very
little to say, but that he pretended other of the servant! told him that I
was really the person.
Upon the whole, the justice first of all told me very courteously I was
discharged; that he was very sorry that the mercer's man should, in his
eager pursuit, have so little discretion as to take up an innocent person
for a guilty; that if he had not been so unjust as to detain me afterwards,
he believed I would have forgiven the first affront; that, however, it was
not in his power to award me any reparation, other than by openly reproving
them, which he should do ; but he supposed I would apply to such methods
as the law directed; in the meantime he would bind him over.
But as to the breach of the peace committed by the journeyman, he told
me he should give me some satisfaction for that, for he should commit
him to Newgate for assaulting the constable, and for assaulting of me also.
Accordingly he sent the fellow to Newgate for that assault, and his
master gave bail, and so we came away; but .1 had the satisfaction of
seeing the mob wait upon them both, as they came out, hallooing and
throwing stones and dirt at the coaches they rode in ; and so I came home.
After this hustle, coming home and telling my governess the story, she
falls a-laughing at me. 'Why are you so merry?' says I; 'the story has
not so much laughing-room in it as you imagine. I am sure I have had
a great deal of hurry and fright too, with a pack of ugly rogues.' ' Laugh !'
says my governess ; ' I laugh, child, to see what a lucky creature you are ;
why, this job will be the best bargain to you that ever you made in your
life, if you manage it well. I warrant you, you shall make the mercer pay
£500 for damages, besides what you shall get of the journeyman.'
I had other thoughts of the matter than she had ; and especially, because
I had given in my name to the justice of peace; and I knew that my name
was so well known among the people at Hick's Hall, the Old Bailey, and
such places, that if this cause came to be tried openly, and my name
came to be inquired into, no court would give much damages, for tha
reputation of a person of such a character. However, I was obliged to
begin a prosecution in form, and accordingly my governess found me out
a very creditable sort of man to manage it, being an attorney of very
good business, and of good reputation, and she was certainly in the right
of this; for had she employed a pettifogging hedge solicitor, or a man
not known, I should have brought it to but little.
I met this attorney, and gave him all the particulars at large, as they
are recited above; and he assured me it was a case, as he said, that he
did not question but that a jury would give very considerable damages;
so taking his full instructions, he began the prosecution, and the mercer
being arrested, gave bail. A few days after his giving bail, he comes with
his attorney to my attorney, to let him know that he desired to accommodate
the matter ; that it was all carried on in the heat of an unhappy passion ;
that his client, meaning me, had a sharp provoking tongue, and that I
used them ill, gibing at them and jeering them, even while they be
lieved me to be the very person, and that I had provoked them, and
the like.
My attorney managed as well on my side; madt them believe I was a
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 137
widow of fortune, that I was able to do myself justice, and had great
friends to stand by me too, who had all made me promise to sue to the
utmost, if it cost me a thousand pounds, for that the affronts I had received
were insufferable,
However, they brought my attorney to this, that he promised he would
not blow the coals ; that if I inclined to an accommodation, he would not
hinder me, and that he would rather persuade me to peace than to war;
for which they told him he should be no loser; all which he told me
very honestly, and told me that if they offered him any bribe, I should
certainly know it; but, upon the whole, he told me very honestly that, if
I would take his opinion, he would advise me to make it up with them,
for that as they were in a great fright, and were desirous above all things
to make it up, and knew that, let it be what it would, they must bear ail
the costs, he believed they would give me freely more than any jury would
give upon a trial. I asked him what he thought they would be brought
to; he told me he could not tell as to that, but he would tell me more
when I saw him again.
Some time after this they came again, to know if he had talked with
me. He told them he had ; that he found me not so averse to an accom
modation as some of my friends were, who resented the disgrace offered
me, and set me on ; that they blowed the coals in secret, prompting me
to revenge, or to do myself justice, as they called it; so that he could not
tell what to say to it; he told them he would do his endeavour to persuade
me, but he ought to be able to tell me what proposal t^ey made. They
pretended they could not make any proposal, because it might be made
use of against them ; and he told them, that by the same rule he could
not make any offers, for that might be pleaded in abatement of what
damages a jury might be inclined to give. However, after some discourse,
and mutual promises that no advantage should be taken on either side by
what was transacted then, or at any other of those meetings, they came
to a kind of a treaty ; but so remote, and so wide from one another, that
nothing could be expected from it; for my attorney demanded £500 and
charges, and they offered £50 without charges; so they broke off, and tht-
mercer proposed to have a meeting with me myself; and my attorney
agreed to that very readily.
My attorney gave me notice to come to this meeting in good clothe*,
and with some state, that the mercer might see I was something more than
I seemed to be that time they had me. Accordingly I came in a new suit
of second mourning, according to what I had said at the justice's. I set
myself out, too, as well as a widow's dress would admit; my governess
also furnished me with a good pearl necklace, that shut in behind with a
locket of diamonds, which she had in pawn ; and I had a very good gold
watch by my side; so that I made a very good figure; and, as I stayed
till I was sure they were come, I came in a coach to the door, with my
maid with me.
When I came into the room the mercer was surprised. He stood up
and made his bow, which I took a little notice of, and but a little, and
went and sat down where my own attorney had appointed me to sit, for
it was his house. After a while the mercer said, he did not know me
again, and began to make some compliments. I told him I believed he
did not know me, at first; and that, if he had, he would not have treated
me as he did.
138 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
He told me he was very sorry for what had happened, and that it was
to testify the willingness he had to make all possible reparation that he
had appointed this meeting; that he hoped I would not carry things to
extremity, which might be not only too great a loss to him, but might be
the ruin of his business and shop, in which case I might have the satis
faction of repaying an injury with an injury ten times greater; but that I
would then get nothing, whereas he was willing to do me any justice that
was in his power, without putting himself or me to the trouble or charge
of a suit at law.
I told him I was glad to hear him talk so much more like a man of
sense than he did before ; that it was true, acknowledgment in most cases
of affronts was counted reparation sufficient; but this had gone too far to
be made up so; that I was not revengeful, nor did I seek his ruin, or any
man's else, but that all my friends were unanimous not to let me so far
neglect my character as to adjust a thing of this kind without reparation;
that to be taken up for a thief was such an indignity as could not be put
up with ; that my character was above being treated so by any that knew
me, but because in my condition of a widow I had been careless of
myself, I might be taken for such a creature; but that for the particular
usage I had from him afterward, — and then I repeated all as before ; it was
so provoking, I had scarce patience to repeat it.
He acknowledged all, and was mighty humble indeed ; he came up to
£ 100 and to pay all the law charges, and added that he would make me
a present of a very good suit of clothes. I came down to £ 300, and
demanded that I should publish an advertisement of the particulars in the
common newspapers.
This was a clause he never could comply with. However, at last he
came up, by good management of my attorney, to £150 and a suit of
black silk clothes; and there, as it were, at my attorney's request, I com
plied, he paying my attorney's bill and charges, and gave us a good supper
into the bargain.
When I came to receive the money, I brought my governess with me,
dressed like an old duchess, and a gentleman very well dressed, who, we
pretended, courted me, but I called him cousin, and the lawyer was only
to hint privately to them that this gentleman courted the widow.
He treated us handsomely indeed, and paid the money cheerfully enough ;
so that it cost him £, 200 in all, or rather more. At our last meeting,
when all was agreed, the case of the journeyman came up, and the mercer
begged very hard for him; told me he was a man that had kept a shop
of his own, and been in good business, had a wife and several children,
and was very poor, that he had nothing to make satisfaction with, but
should beg my pardon on his knees. I had no spleen at the saucy rogue,
nor were his submission anything to me, since there was nothing to be
got by him, so I thought it was as good to throw that in generously as
not; so I told him I did not desire the ruin of any man, and therefore at
his request I would forgive the wretch, it was below me to seek any
revenge.
When we were at supper he brought the poor fellow in to make his
acknowledgment, which he would have done with as much mean humility
as his offence was with insulting pride; in which he was an instance of
complete baseness of spirit, imperious, cruel, and relentless when upper
most, abject and low-spirited when down. However, I abated his cringes,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 13
told him I forgave him, and desired he might withdraw, as if I did not
care for the sight of him, though I had forgiven him.
I wa« now in good circumstances indeed, if 1 could have known my
time for leaving off, and my governess often said I was the richest of the
trade in England ; and so I believe I was, for I had £, 700 by me in
money, besides clothes, rings, some plate, and two gold watches, and all
of them stolen; for I had innumerable jobs, besides these I have mentioned.
Oh ! had I even now had the grace of repentance, I had still leisure to
have looked back upon my follies, and have made some reparation; but
the satisfaction I was to make for the public mischiefs I had done was
yet left behind; and I could not forbear going abroad again, as I called
it now, any more than I could when my extremity really drove me out
for bread.
It was not long after the affair with the mercer was made up, that I
went out in an equipage quite different from any I had ever appeared in
before. I dressed myself like a beggar-woman, in the coarsest and most
despicable rags I could get, and I walked about peering and peeping into
every door and window I came near; and, indeed, I was in such a plight
now that I knew as ill how to behave in as ever I did in any. I naturally
abhorred dirt and rags; I had been bred up tight and cleanly, and could
be no other, whatever condition I was in, so that this was the most uneasy
disguise to me that ever I put on. I said presently to myself that this
would not do, for this was a dress that everybody was shy and afraid of;
and I thought everybody looked at me as if they were afraid I should
come near them, lest I should take something from them, or afraid to come
near me, lest they should get something from me. I wandered about all
the evening the first time I went out, and made nothing of it, and came
home again wet, draggled, and tired. However, I went out again the next
night, and then I met with a little adventure, which had like to have cost
me dear. As I was standing near a tavern door, there comes a gentleman
on horseback, and lights at the door, and wanting to go into the tavern,
he calls one of the drawers to hold his horse. He stayed pretty long in
the tavern, and the drawer heard his master call, and thought he would
be angry with him. Seeing me stand by him, he called to me. 'Here,
woman', says he, 'hold this horse awhile, till I go in ; if the gentleman
comes, he'll give you something.' ' Yes ', says I, and takes the horse, and
walks off with him soberly, and carried him to my governess.
This had been a booty to those that had understood it ; but never was
poor thief more at a loss to know what to do with anything that was
stolen ; for when I came home, my governess was quite confounded, and
what to do with the creature we neither of us knew. To send him to a
stable was doing nothing, for it was certain that notice would be given
in the Gatcttt, and the horse described, so that we durst not go to fetch
it again.
All the remedy we had for this unlucky adventure was to go and set up
the horse at an inn, and send a note by a porter to the tavern, that the
gentleman's horse that was lost at such a time, was left at such an inn,
and that he might be had there ; that the poor woman that held him,
having led him about the street, not being able to lead him back again,
had left him there. We might have waited till the owner had published,
and offered a reward, but we did not care to venture the receiving the
reward.
1/j.O THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
So this was a robbery and no robbery, for little was lost by it, and
nothing was got by it, and I was quite si£k of going out in a beggar's
dress ; it did not answer at all, and besides, I thought it ominous and
threatening.
While I was in this disguise, I fell in with a parcel of folks of a worse
kind than any I ever sorted with, and I saw a little into their ways too.
These were coiners of money, and they made some very good offers to
me, as to profit; but the part they would have had me embark in was the
most dangerous. I mean that of the very working of the die, as they call
it, which, had I been taken, had been certain death, and that at a stake;
I say, to be burnt to death at a stake; so that though I was to appearance
but a beggar, and they promised mountains of gold and silver to me to
engage, yet it would not do. 'Tis true, if I had been really a beggar, or
had been desperate as when I began, I might, perhaps, have closed with
it ; for what care they to die, that cannot tell how to live ? But at present
that was not my condition, at least, I was for no such terrible risks as
those ; besides, the very thought of being burnt at a stake struck terror to
my very soul, chilled my blood, and gave me the vapours to such a degree,
as I could not think of it without trembling.
This put an end to my disguise too, for though I did not like the pro
posal, yet I did not tell them so, but seemed to relish it, and promised to
meet again. But I durst see them no more; for if I had seen them, and
not complied, though I had declined it with the greatest assurances of
secrecy in the world, they would have gone near to have murdered me, to
make sure work, and make themselves easy, as they call it. What kind
of easiness that is, they may best judge that understand how easy men are
that can murder people to prevent danger.
This and horse-stealing were things quite out of my way, and I might
easily resolve I would have no more to say to them. My business seemed
to lie another way, and though it had hazard enough in it too, yet it was
more suitable to me, and what had more of art in it, and more chances
for a coming off if a surprise should happen,
I had several proposals made also to me about that time, to come into
a gang of housebreakers ; but that was a thing I had no mind to venture
at neither, any more than I had at the coining trade.
I offered to go along with two men and a woman, that made it their
business to get into houses by stratagem. I was willing enough to venture,
but there were three of them already, and they did not care to part, nor
I to have too many in a gang; so I did not close with them, and they
paid dear for their next attempt.
But at length I met with a woman that had often told me what adven
tures she had made, and with success, at the waterside, and I closed
with her, and we drove on our business pretty well. One day we
came among some Dutch people at St Catharine's, where we went
on pretence to buy goods that were privately got on shore. I was two
or three times in a house where we saw a good quantity of prohibited
goods, and my companion once brought away three pieces of Dutch black
silk that turned to good account, and I had my share of it; but in all
the journeys I made by myself, I could not get an opportunity to do
anything, so I laid it aside, for I had been there so often that they began
to suspect something.
This baulked me a little, and I resolved to push at something or other,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 14!
for I was not used to come back so often without purchase; so the next
day I dressed myself up fine, and took a walk to the other end of the
town. I passed through the Exchange in the Strand, but had no notion
of finding anything to do there, when on a sudden I saw a great clutter
in the place, and all the people, shopkeepers as well as others, standing
up and staring; and what should it be but some great duchess coming
into the Exchange, and they said the queen was coming. I set myself
close up to a shop-side with my back to the counter, as if to let the
crowd pass by, when, keeping my eye on a parcel of lace which the
shopkeeper was showing to some ladies that stood by me, the shopkeeper
and her maid were so taken up with looking to see who was a-coming,
and what shop they would go to, that I found means to slip a paper of
lace into my pocket, and come clear off with it; so the lady-milliner paid
dear enough for her gaping after the queen.
I went off from the shop, as if driven along by the throng, and, mingling
myself with the crowd, went out at the other door of the Exchange, and
so got away before they missed their lace; and, because I would not be
followed, I called a coach, and shut myself up in it. I had scarce shut
the coach doors, but I saw the milliner's maid and five or six more come
running out into the street, and crying out as if they were frighted. They
did not cry ' Stop, thief! ', because nobody ran away, but I could hear the
word, 'robbed' and 'lace' two or three times, and saw the wench wringing
her hands, and run staring to and again, like one scared. The coachman
that had taken me up was getting up into the box, but was not quite up,
and the horses had not begun to move, so that I was terrible uneasy, and
I took the packet of lace and laid it ready to have dropped it out at the
flap of the coach, which opens before, just behind the coachman ; but to
my great satisfaction, in less than a minute the coach began to move,
that is to say, as soon as the coachman had got up and spoken to his
horses; so he drove away, and I brought off my purchase, which was
worth near £20.
The next day I dressed me up again, but in quite different clothes, and
walked the same way again, but nothing offered till I came into St James's
Park. I saw abundance of fine ladies in the park, walking in the Mall,
and among the rest there was a little miss, a young lady of about twelve
or thirteen years old, and she had a sister, as I supposed, with her, that
might be about nine. I observed the biggest had a fine gold watch on,
and a good necklace of pearl, and they had a footman in livery with
them; but, as it is not usual for the footmen to go behind the ladies in
the Mall, so I observed the footman stopped at their going into the Mall,
and the biggest of the sisters spoke to him, to bid him be just there when
they came back.
When I heard her dismiss the footman, I stepped up to him, and asked
him what little lady that was ? and held a little chat with him, about what
a pretty child it was with her, and how genteel and well carriaged the
eldest would be : how womanish, and how grave ; and the fool of a fellow
told me presently who she was; that she was Sir Thomas 's eldest
daughter, of Essex, and that she was a great fortune ; that her mother was
not come to town yet; but she was with Sir William 's lady at her
lodgings in Suffolk Street, and a great deal more; that they had a maid
and a woman to wait on them, besides Sir Thomas's coach, the coachman,
and himself; and that young lady was governess to the whole family, as
142 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
well here as at home; and told me abundance of things, enough for my
business.
I was well dressed, and had my gold watch as well as she; so I left
the footman, and I puts myself in a rank with this lady, having stayed
till she had taken one turn in the Mall, and was going forward again; by
and by I saluted her by her name, with the title of Lady Betty. I asked
her when she heard from her father; when my lady her mother would be
in town, and how she did.
I talked so familiarly to her of her whole family, that she could not
suspect but that I knew them all intimately. I asked her why she would
come abroad without Mrs Chime with her (that was the name of her
woman) to take care of Mrs Judith, that was her sister. Then I entered
into a long chat with her about her sister ; what a fine little lady she was,
and asked her if she had learned French ; and a thousand such little things,
when on a sudden the guards came, and the crowd ran to see the king
go by to the Parliament House.
The ladies ran all to the side of the Mall, and I helped my lady to
stand upon the edge of the boards on the side of the Mall, that she might
be high enough to see; and took the little one and lifted her quite up;
during which, I took care to convey the gold watch so clean away from
the Lady Betty, that she never missed it till the crowd was gone, and she
was gotten into the middle of the Mall.
I took my leave in the very crowd, and said, as if in haste, 'Dear Lady
Betty, take care of your little sister.' And so the crowd did as it were
thrust me away, and that I was unwilling to take my leave.
The hurry in such cases is immediately over, and the place clear as
soon as the king is gone by; but as there is always a great running and
clutter just as the king passes, so having dropped the two little ladies,
and done my business with them, without any miscarriage, I kept hurrying
on among the crowd, as if I ran to see the king, and so I kept before
the crowd till I came to the end of the Mall, when the king going on
toward the Horse Guards, I went forward to the passage, which went then
through against the end of the Haymarket, and there I bestowed a coach
upon myself, and made off; and I confess I have not yet been so good
as my word, viz. to go and visit my Lady Betty.
I was once in the mind to venture staying with Lady Betty till she missed
the watch, and so have made a great outcry about it with her, and have
got her into her coach, and put myself in the coach with her, and have
gone home with her; for she appeared so fond of me, and so perfectly
deceived by my so readily talking to her of all her relations and family,
that I thought it was very easy to push the thing further, and to have
got at least the necklace of pearl ; but when I considered that, though the
child would not perhaps have suspected me, other people might, and that
if I was searched I should be discovered, I thought it was best to go off
with what I had got.
I came accidentally afterwards to hear, that when the young lady missed
her watch, she made a great outcry in the park, and sent her footman up
and down to see if he could find me, she having described me so per
fectly that he knew it was the same person that had stood and talked so
long with him, and asked him so many questions about them; but I was
gone far enough out of their reach before she could come at her footman
to tell him the story.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 143
I made another adventure after this, of a nature different from all I had
been concerned in yet, and this was at a gaming-house near Covent Garden.
I saw several people go in and out; and I stood in the passage a good
while with another woman with me, and seeing a gentleman go up that
seemed to be of more than ordinary fashion, I said to him, 'Sir, pray
don't they give women leave to go up?' 'Yes, madam', says he, 'and
to play too, if they please.' 'I mean so, sir', said I. And with that he
said he would introduce me if I had a mind ; so I followed him to the
door, and he looking in, 'There, madam', says he, 'are the gamesters, if
you have a mind to venture.' I looked in, and said to my comrade aloud,
' Here's nothing but men ; I won't venture.' At which one of the gentlemen
cried out, ' You need not be afraid, madam, here's none but fair gamesters ;
you are very welcome to come and set what you please.' So I went a little
nearer and looked on, and some of them brought me a chair, and I sat
down and saw the box and dice go round apace; then I said to my
comrade, 'The gentlemen play too high for us; come, let us go.'
The people were all very civil, and one gentleman encouraged me, and
said, 'Come, madam, if you please to venture, if you dare trust me, I'll
answer for it you shall have nothing put upon you here.' 'No, sir', said
I, smiling; 'I hope the gentlemen would not cheat a woman.' But still
I declined venturing, though I pulled out a purse with money in it, that
they might see I did not want money,
After I had sat awhile, one gentleman said to me, jeering, 'Come, madam,
I see you are afraid to venture for yourself; I always had good luck with
the ladies, you shall set for me, if you won't set for yourself.' I told him,
'Sir, I should be very loth to lose your money', though I added, 'I am
pretty lucky too; but the gentlemen play so high, that I dare not venture
my own.'
'Well, well', says he, 'there's ten guineas, madam; set them for me';
so I took the money and set, himself looking on. I run out the guineas
by one and two at a time, and then the box coming to the next man to
me, my gentleman gave me ten guineas more, and made me set five of
them at once, and the gentleman who had the box threw out, so there
was five guineas of his money again. He was encouraged at this, and
made me take the box, which was a bold venture : however, I held the box
so long that I gained him his whole money, and had a handful of guineas
in my lap ; and, which was the better luck, when I threw out, 1 threw but
at one or two of those that had set me, and so went off easy.
When I was come this length, I offered the gentleman all the gold, for
it was his own; and so would have had him play for himself, pretending
that I did not understand the game well enough. He laughed, and said if
I had but good luck, it was no matter whether I understood the game or
no ; but I should not leave off. However, he took out the fifteen guineas
that he had put in first, and bade me play with the rest. I would have
him to have seen how much I had got, but he said, 'No, no, don't tell
them, I believe you are very honest, and 'tis bad luck to tell them'; so
I played on.
I understood the game well enough, though I pretended I did not, and
played cautiously, which was to keep a good stock in my lap, out of
which I every now and then conveyed some into my pocket, but in such
a manner as I was sure he could not see it.
I played a great while, and had very good luck for him; but the last
144 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
time I held the box they set me high, and I threw boldly at all, and held
the box till I had gained near fourscore guineas, but lost above half of
It back at the last throw; so I got up, for I was afraid I should lose it
all back again, and said to him, 'Pray come, sir, now, and take it and
play for yourself; I think I have done pretty well for you.' He would
have had me play on, but it grew late, and I desired to be excused. When
I gave it up to him, I told him I hoped he would give me leave to tell
it now, that I might see what he had gained, and how lucky I had been
for him; when I told them, there were threescore and three guineas. 'Ay',
says I, ' if it had not been for that unlucky throw, I had got you a hundred
guineas.' So I gave him all the money, but he would not take it till I
had put my hand into it, and taken some for myself, and bid me
please myself. I refused it, and was positire I would not take it
myself; if he had a mind to do anything of that kind, it should be all
his own doings.
The rest of the gentlemen, seeing us striving, cried, 'Give it her all';
but I absolutely refused that. Then one of them said, 'D — n ye, Jack,
halve It with her; don't you know you should be always on even terms
with the ladies.' So, in short, he divided it with me, and I brought away
thirty guineas, besides about forty-three which I had stole privately, which
I was sorry for, because he was so generous.
Thus I brought home seventy-three guineas, and let my old governess
tee what good luck I had at play. However, it was her advice that I
should not venture again, and I took her counsel, for I never went there
any more ; for I knew as well as she, if the itch of play came in, I might
soon lose that, and all the rest of what I had got.
Fortune had smiled upon me to that degree, and I had thriven so much,
and my governess too, for she always had a share with me, that really
the old gentlewoman began to talk of leaving off while we were well, and
being satisfied with what we had got; but I know not what fate guided
me, I was as backward to it now, as she was when I proposed it to her
before, and so in an ill hour we gave over the thoughts of it for the present,
and, in a word, I grew more hardened and audacious than ever, and the success
I had made my name as famous as any thief of my sort ever had been.
I had sometimes taken the liberty to play the same game over again,
which is not according to practice, which however succeeded not amiss ;
but generally I took up new figures, and contrived to appear In new shapes
every time I went abroad.
It was now a rumbling time of the year, and the gentlemen being most
of them gone out of town, Tunbridge, and Epsom, and such places, were
full of people. But the city was thin, and I thought our trade felt it a
little, as well as others ; so that at the latter end of the year I joined
myself with a gang, who usually go every year to Stew-bridge Fair, and
from thence to Bury Fair, in Suffolk. We promised ourselves great things
here, but when I came to see how things were, I was weary of it presently ;
for except mere picking of pockets, there was little worth meddling with ;
neither if a booty had been made, was it so easy carrying it off, nor was
there such a variety of occasion for business in our way, as in London;
all that I made of the whole journey was a gold watch at Bury Fair, and
a small parcel of linen at Cambridge, which gave me occasion to take
leave of the place. It was an old bite, and I thought might do with a
country shopkeeper, though in London it would not.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 145
t bought at a linendraper'i shop, not in th« fair, but in the town of
Cambridge, as much fine Holland, and other things, as came to about £7 ;
when I had done I bade them be sent to such an inn, where I had taken
up my being the same morning, as if I was to lodge there that night.
I ordered the draper to send them home to me, about such an hour, to
the inn where I lay, and I would pay him his money. At the time appointed
the draper sends the goods, and I placed one of our gang at the chamber
door, and when the innkeeper's maid brought the messenger to the door,
who was a young fellow, an apprentice, almost a man, she tells him her
mistress was asleep, but if he would leave the things, and call in about
an hour, I should be awake, and he might have the money. He left the
parcel very readily, and goes his way, and in about half-an-hour my maid
and I walked off, and that very evening I hired a horse, and a man to
ride before me, and went to Newmarket, and from thence got my passage
in a coach that was not quite full to Bury St Edmunds, where, as I told
you, I could make but little of my trade, only at a little country opera-
house I got a gold watch from a lady's side, who was not only intolerably
merry, but a little fuddled, which made my work much easier.
I made off with this little booty to Ipswich, and from thence to Harwich,
where I went into an inn, as if I had newly arrived from Holland, not
doubting but I should make some purchase among the foreigners that came
on shore there ; but I found them generally empty of things of value, except
what was in their portmanteaus and Dutch hampers, which were always
guarded by footmen; however, I fairly got one of their portmanteaus one
evening out of the chamber where the gentleman lay, the footman being
fast asleep on the bed, and I suppose very drunk.
The room in which I lodged lay next to the Dutchman's, and having
dragged the heavy thing with much ado out of the chamber into mine, I
went out into the street to see if I could find any possibility of carrying
it off. I walked about a great while, but could see no probability either
of getting out the thing, or of conveying away the goods that were in it,
the town being so small, and I a perfect stranger in it ; so I was returning
with a resolution to carry it back again, and leave it where I found it.
Just at that very moment I heard a man make a noise to some people to
make haste, for the boat was going to put off, and the tide would be spent.
I called the fellow: 'What boat is it, friend', said I, 'that you belong to?'
'The Ipswich wherry, madam', says he. 'When do you go off?' says L
'This moment, madam', says he; 'do you want to go thither?' 'Yes',
said I, 'if you can stay till I fetch my things.' 'Where are your things,
madam?' says he. 'At such an inn', said I. 'Well, I'll go with you,
madam', says he, very civilly, 'and bring them for you.' 'Come away
then', says I, and takes him with me.
The people of the inn were in a great hurry, the packet-boat from Holland
being just come in, and two coaches just come also with passengers from
London for another packet-boat that was going off for Holland, which
coaches were to go back next day with the passengers that were just
landed. In this hurry it was that I came to the bar, and paid my reckon
ing, telling my landlady I had gotten my passage by sea in a wherry.
These wherries are large vessels, with good accommodation for carrying
passengers from Harwich to London; and though they are called wherries,
which is a word used in the Thames for a small boat, rowed with one
or two men, yet these ar« vessels able to -carry twenty passengers, and
10
146 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
ten or fifteen tons of goods, and fitted to bear the sea. All this I had found
out by inquiring the night before into the several ways of going to London.
My landlady was very courteous, took my money for the reckoning, but
was called away, all the house being in a hurry. So I left her, took the
fellow up into my chamber, gave him the trunk, or portmanteau, for it
was like a trunk, and wrapped it about with an old apron, and he went
directly to his boat with it, and I after him, nobody asking us the least
question about it. As for the drunken Dutch footman, he was still asleep,
and his master with other foreign gentlemen at supper, and very merry
below ; so I went clean off with it to Ipswich, and going in the night,
the people of the house knew nothing but that I was gone to London by
the Harwich wherry, as I had told my landlady.
I was plagued at Ipswich with the custom-house officers, who stopped
my trunk, as I called it, and would op-en and search it. I was willing, I
told them, that they should search it, but my husband had the key, and
that he was not yet come from Harwich; this I said, that if upon searching
it they should find all the things be such as properly belonged to a man
rather than a woman, it should not seem strange to them. However, they
being positive to open the trunk, I consented to have it broken open,
that is to say, to have the lock taken off, which was not difficult
They found nothing for their turn, for the trunk had been searched
before; but they discovered several things much to my satisfaction, as
particularly a parcel of money in French pistoles, and some Dutch duca-
toons, or rix-dollars, and the rest was chiefly two periwigs, wearing-linen,
razors, wash-balls, perfumes, and other useful things necessary for a gent
leman, which all passed for my husband's, and so I was quit of them.
It was now very early in the morning, and not light, and I knew not
well what course to take; for I made no doubt but I should be pursued
in the morning, and perhaps be taken with the things about me; so I
resolved upon taking new measures. I went publicly to an inn in the
town with my trunk, as I called it, and having taken the substance out,
I did not think the lumber of it worth my concern; however, I gave it
the landlady of the house with a charge to take care of it, and lav it up
safe till I should come again, and away I walked into the street.
When I was got into the town a great way from the inn, I met with an
ancient woman who had just opened her door, and I fell into chat with
her, and asked her a great many wild questions or things all remote to
my purpose and design; but in my discourse I found by her how the town
was situated, that I was in a street which went out towards Hadley, but
that such a street went towards the water-side, such a street went into the
heart of the town, and at last, such a street went towards Colchester, and
so the London road lay there.
I had soon my ends of this old woman, for I only wanted to know
which was the London road, and away I walked as fast as I could ; not
that I intended to go on foot, either to London or to Colchester, but I
wanted to get quietly away from Ipswich.
I walked about two or three miles, and then I met a plain countryman,
who was busy about some husbandry work, I did not know what, and
I asked him a great many questions, first, not much to the purpose, but
at last told him I was going for London, and the coach was full, and I
coald not get a passage, and asked him if he could not tell me where to
hire a horse that would carry double, and an honest man to ride before
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 147
me to Colchester, so that I might get a place there in the coaches. The
honest clown looked earnestly at me, and said nothing for above half a
minute, when, scratching his poll, 'A horse, say you, and to Colchester,
to carry double? Why yes, mistress, alack-a-day, you may have horses
enough for money.' 'Well, friend', says I, 'that I take for granted; I
don't expect it without money.' 'Why, but mistress', says he, 'how much
are you willing to give ? ' ' Nay ', says I again, ' friend, I don't know what
your rates are in the country here, for I am a stranger ; but if you can get
one for me, get it as cheap as you can, and I'll give you somewhat for
your pains.'
' Why, that's honestly said, too ', says the countryman. ' Not so honest,
neither', said I to myself, 'if thou knewest all.' 'Why, mistress', says he,
'I have a horse that will carry double, and I don't much care if I go
myself with you, an' you like.' 'Will you?' says I; 'well, I believe you
are an honest man; if you will, I shall be glad of it; I'll pay you in
reason.' 'Why, look ye, mistress', says he, 'I won't be out of reason
with you; then if I carry you to Colchester, it will be worth five shillings
for myself and my horse, for I shall hardly come back to-night.'
In short, I hired the honest man and his horse ; but when we came to
a town upon the road (I do not remember the name of it, but it stands
upon a river), I pretended myself very ill, and I could go no farther that
night, but if he would stay there with me, because I was a stranger, I
would pay him for himself and his horse with all my heart.
This I did because I knew the Dutch gentlemen and their servants
would be upon the road that day, either in the stage-coaches or riding
post, and I did not know but the drunken fellow, or somebody else that
might have seen me at Harwich, might see me again, and I thought that
in one day's stop they would be all gone by.
We lay all that night there, and the next morning it was not very early
when I set out, so that it was near ten o'clock by the time I got to
Colchester. It was no little pleasure that I saw the town where I had so
many pleasant days, and I made many inquiries after the good old friends
I had once had there, but could make little out; they were all dead or
removed. The young ladies had been all married or gone to London ; the
old gentleman, and the old lady that had been my early benefactress, all
dead ; and, which troubled me most, the young gentleman my first lover,
and afterwards my brother-in-law, was dead; but two sons, men grown,
were left of him, but they too were transplanted to London.
I dismissed my old man here, and stayed incognito for three or four
days in Colchester, and then took a passage in a waggon, because I would
not venture being seen in the Harwich coaches. ,But I needed not have
used so much caution, for there was nobody in Harwich but the woman
of the house could have known me ; nor was it rational to think that she,
considering the hurry she was in, and that she never saw me but once,
and that by candle-light, should have ever discovered me.
I was now returned to London, and though by the accident of the last
adventure I got something considerable, yet I was not fond of any more
country rambles; nor should I have ventured abroad again if I had carried
the trade on to the end of my days. I gave my governess a history of
my travels ; she likerl the Harwich journey well enough, and in discoursing
of these things between ourselves she observed that a thief, being a crea
ture that watches the advantages of other people's mistakes, 'tis impossible
148 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
but that to one that is vigilant and industrious many opportunities must
happen, and therefore she thought that one so exquisitely keen in the trade
as I was, would scarce fail of something wherever I went.
On the other hand, every branch of my story, if duly considered, may
be useful to honest people, and afford a due caution to people of some
sort or other to guard against the like surprises, and to have their eyes
about them when they have to do with strangers of any kind, for 'tis very
seldom that some snare or other is not in their way. The moral, indeed,
of all my history is left to be gathered by the senses and judgment of
the reader; I am not qualified to preach to them. Let the experience of
one creature completely wicked, and completely miserable, be a storehouse
of useful warning to those that read.
I am drawing now towards a new variety of life. Upon my return,
being hardened by a long race of crime, and success unparalleled, I had,
as I have said, no thoughts of laying down a trade, which, if I was to
judge by the example of others, must, however, end at last in misery
and sorrow,
It was on the Christmas Day following, in the evening, that, to finish a
long train of wickedness, I went abroad to see what might offer in my
way; when, going by a working silversmith's in Forster Lane, I saw a
tempting bait indeed, and not to be resisted by one of my occupation, for
the shop had nobody in it, and a great deal of loose plate lay in the
window, and at the seat of the man, who, I suppose, worked at one side
of the shop.
I went boldly in, and was just going to lay my hand upon a piece of
plate, and might have done it, and carried it clear off, for any care that
the men who belonged to the shop had taken of it; but an officious fellow
in a house on the other side of the way, seeing me go in, and that there
was nobody in the shop, comes running over the street, and without
asking me what I was, or who, seizes upon me, and cries out for the
people of the house.
I had not touched anything in the shop, and seeing a glimpse of some
body running orer, I had so much presence of mind as to knock very
hard with my foot on the floor of the house, and was just calling out too,
when the fellow laid hands on me.
However, as I had always most courage when I was in most danger, so
when he laid hands on me, I stood very high upon it, that I came in to
buy half-a-dozen of silver spoons ; and to my good fortune, it was a
silversmith's that sold plate, as well as worked plate for other shops. The
fellow laughed at that part, and put such a value upon the service that he
had done his neighbour, that he would have it be, that I came not to buy,
but to steal ; and raising a great crowd, I said to the master of the shop,
who by this time was fetched home from some neighbouring place, that it
was in vain to make a noise, and enter into talk there of the case ; the
fellow had insisted that I came to steal, and he must prove it, and I desired
we might go before a magistrate without any more words ; for I began to
see I should be too hard for the man that had seized me.
The master and mistress of the shop were really not so violent as the
man from t'other side of the way; and the man said, 'Mistress, you might
come into the shop with a good design for aught I know, but it seemed
a dangerous thing for you to come into such a shop as mine is, when
you see nobody there; and I cannot do so little justice to my neighbour,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 149
who was so kind, as not to acknowledge he had reason on his side;
though, upon the whole, I do not find you attempted to take anything, and
I really know not what to do in it.' I pressed him to go before a magistrate
with me, and if anything could be proved on me, that was like a design,
I should willingly submit, but if not, I expected reparation.
Just while we were in this debate, and a crowd of people gathered
about the door, came by Sir T. B., an alderman of the city, and justice
of the peace, and the goldsmith hearing of it, entreated his worship to
come in and decide the case.
Give the goldsmith his due, be told his story with a great deal of
justice and moderation, and the fellow that had come over, and seized
upon me, told his with as much heat and foolish passion, which did me
good still. It came then to my turn to speak, and I told his worship that
I was a stranger in Londen, being newly come out of the north; that I
lodged in such a place, that I was passing this street, and went into a
goldsmith's shop to buy half-a-dozen of spoons. By great good luck I
had an old silver spoon in my pocket, which I pulled out, and told him
I had carried that spoon to match it with half-a-dozen of new ones, that
it might match some I had in the country ; that seeing nobody in the shop,
I knocked with my foot very hard to make the people hear, and had also
called aloud with my voice; 'tis true, there was loose plate in the shop,
but that nobody could say I had touched any of it; that a fellow came
running into the shop out of the street, and laid hands on me in a furious
manner, in the very moment while I was calling for the people of the
house; that if he had really had a mind to have done his neighbour any
service, he should have stood at a distance, and silently watched to see
whether I had touched anything or no, and then have taken me in the
fact. 'That is very true', says Mr Alderman, and turning to the fellow
that stopped me, he asked him if it was true that I knocked with my
foot? He said, yes, I had knocked, but that might be because of his
coming. 'Nay', says the alderman, taking him short, 'now you contradict
yourself, for just now you said she was in the shop with her back to you,
and did not see you till you came upon her.' Now it was true that my
back was partly to the street, but yet as my business was of a kind that
required me to have eyes every way, so I really had a glance of him running
over, as I said before, though he did not perceive it.
After a full hearing, the alderman gave it as his opinion, that his
neighbour was under a mistake, and that I was innocent, and the
goldsmith acquiesced in it too, and his wife, and so I was dismissed;
but, as I was going to depart, Mr Alderman said, ' But hold, madam,
if you were designing to buy spoons, I hope you will not let my
friend here lose his customer by the mistake.' I readily answered, 'No,
sir, I'll buy the spoons still, if he can match my odd spoon, which I
brought for a pattern', and the goldsmith showed me some of the very
same fashion, So he weighed the spoons, and they came to 353., so I
pulls out my purse to pay him, in which I had near twenty guineas, for
I never went without such a sum about me, whatever might happen, and
I found it of use at other times as well as now.
When Mr Alderman saw my money, he said, 'Well, madam, now lam
satisfied you were wronged, and it was for this reason that I moved you
should buy the spoons, and stayed till you had bought them, for, if you
had not had money to pay for them, I should have suspected that you did
I5O THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
not come into the shop to buy, for the sort of people who come upon
those designs that you have been charged with, are seldom troubled with
much gold in their pockets, as I see you are.'
I smiled, and told his worship, that then I owed something of his favour
to my money, but I hope<Mie saw reason also in the justice he had done
me before. He said, yes, he had, but this had confirmed his opinion, and
he was fully satisfied now of my having been injured. So I came well
off from an affair in which I was at the very brink of destruction.
It was but three days after this, that, not at all made cautious by my
former danger, as I used to be, and still pursuing the art which I had so
long been employed in, I ventured into a house where I saw the doors
open, and furnished myself, as I thought verily without being perceived,
with two pieces of flowered silks, such as they call brocaded silk, very
rich. It was not a mercer's shop, nor a warehouse of a mercer, but looked
like a private dwelling-house, and was, it seems, inhabited by a man that
sold goods for a weaver to the mercers, like a broker or factor.
That I may make short of the black part of this story, I was attacked
by two wenches that came open-mouthed at me just as I was going out at
the door, and one of them pulled me back into the room, while the other
shut the door upon me. I would have given them good words, but there
was no room for it, two fiery dragons could not have been more furious;
they tore my clothes, bullied and roared, as if they would have murdered
me; the mistress of the house came next, and then the master, and all
outrageous.
I gave the master very good words, told him the door was open, and
things were a temptation to me, that I was poor and distressed, and poverty
was what many could not resist, and begged him, with tears, to have pity
on me, The mistress of the house was moved with compassion, and
inclined to have let me go, and had almost persuaded her husband to it
also, but the saucy wenches were run even before they were sent, and had
fetched a constable, and then the master said he could not go back, I
must go before a justice, and answered his wife, that he might come into
trouble himself if he should let me go.
The sight of a constable, indeed, struck me, and I thought I should
have sunk into the ground. I fell into faintings, and indeed the people
themselves thought I would have died, when the woman argued again for
me, and entreated her husband, seeing they had lost nothing, to let me
go. I offered him to pay for the two pieces, whatever the value was,
though I had not got them, and argued that as he had his goods, and had
really lost nothing, it would be cruel to pursue me to death, and have
my blood for the bare attempt of taking them. I put the constable in
mind, too, that I had broke no doors, nor carried anything away; and
wheo I came to the justice, and pleaded there that I had neither broken
anything to get in, nor carried anything out, the justice was inclined to
have released me ; but the first saucy jade that stopped me, affirming that
I was going out with the goods, but that she stopped me and pulled me
back, the justice upon that point committed me, and I was carried to
Newgate, that horrid place! My very blood chills at the mention of its
name; the place where so many of my comrades had been locked up, and
from whence they went to the fatal tree ; the place where my mother
suffered so deeply, where I was brought into the world, and from whence
I expected no redemption, bat by an infamous death: to conclude, the
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 5 I
place that had so long expected me, and which with so much art and
success I had so long avoided.
I was now fixed indeed ; 'tis impossible to describe the terror of my
mind, when I was first brought in, and when I looked round upon all the
horrors of that dismal place. I looked on myself as lost, and that I had
nothing to think of but of going out of the world, and that with the utmost
infamy: the hellish noise, the roaring, swearing and clamour, the stench
and nastiness, and all the dreadful afflicting things that I saw there, joined
to make the place seem an emblem of hell itself, and a kind of an entrance
into it.
Now I reproached myself with the many hints I had had, as I have
mentioned above, from my own reason, from the sense of my good circum
stances, and of the many dangers I had escaped, to leave off while I was
well, and how I had withstood them all, and hardened my thoughts against
all fear. It seemed to me that I was hurried on by an inevitable fate to
this day of misery, and that now I was to expiate all my offences at the
gallows; that I was now to give satisfaction to justice with my blood,
and that I was to come to the last hour of my life and of my wickedness
together. These things poured themselves in upon my thoughts in a
confused manner, and left me overwhelmed with melancholy and despair.
Then I repented heartily of all my life past, but that repentance yielded
me no satisfaction, no peace, no, not in the least, because, as I said to
myself, it was repenting after the power of further sinning was taken away.
I seemed not to mourn that I had committed such crimes, and for the
fact, as it was an offence against God and my neighbour, but that I was
to be punished for it. I was a penitent, as I thought, not that I had sinned,
but that I was to suffer, and this took away all the comfort of my repentance
in my own thoughts.
I got no sleep for several nights or days after I came into that wretched
place, and glad I would have been for some time to have died there,
though 1 did not consider dying as it ought to be considered neither ;
indeed, nothing could be filled with more horror to my imagination than
the very place, nothing was more odious to me than the company that
was there. Oh ! if I had but been sent to any place in the world, and not
to Newgate, I should have thought myself happy.
In the next place, how did the hardened wretches that were there before
me triumph over me! What! Mrs Flanders come to Newgate at last?
What ! Mrs Mary, Mrs Molly, and after that plain Moll Flanders ! They
thought the devil had helped me, they said, that I had reigned so long;
they expected me there many years ago, they said, and was I come at last?
Then they flouted me with dejections, welcomed me to the place, wished
me joy, bid me have a good heart, not be cast down, things might not
be so bad as I feared, and the like; then called for brandy, and drank
to me, but put it all up to my score, for they told me I was but just come
to the college, as they called it, and sure I had money in my pocket,
though they had none.
I asked one of this crew how long she had been there. She said four
months. I asked her how the place looked to her when she first came
into it. 'Just as it did now to me', says she, 'dreadful and frightful';
that she thought she was in hell; 'and I believe so still', adds she, 'but
it is natural to me now, I don't disturb myself about it.' 'I suppose',
says I, ' you are in no danger of what is to follow ? ' • Nay ', says she,
152 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
'you are mistaken there, I am sure, for I am under sentence, only I pleaded
my belly, but am no more with child than the judge that tried me, and I
expect to be called down next session.' This 'calling down' is calling
down to their former judgment, when a woman has been respited for her
belly, but proves not to be with child, or if she has been with child, and
has been brought to bed. 'Well', says I, 'and are you thus easy?' 'Ay',
says she, 'I can't help myself; what signifies being sad? If I am hanged,
there's an end of me.' And away she turned, dancing, and sings as she
goes, the following piece of Newgate wit:
If I swing by the string,
I shall hear the hell ring,*
And then there's an end of poor Jenny.
I mention this because it would be worth the observation of any prisoner,
who shall hereafter fall into the same misfortune, and come to that dreadful
place of Newgate, how time, necessity, and conversing with the wretches
that are there familiarises the place to them 5 how at last they become
reconciled to that which at first was the greatest dread upon their spirits
in the world, and are as impudently cheerful and merry in their misery
as they were when out of it
I cannot say, as some do, this devil is not so black as he is painted;
for indeed no colours can represent that place to the life, nor any soul
conceive aright of it but those who have been sufferers there. But how
hell should become by degrees so natural, and not only tolerable, but even
agreeable, is a thing unintelligible but by those who have experienced it,
as I have.
The same night that I was sent to Newgate, I sent the news of it to
my old governess, who was surprised at it, you may be sure, and spent
the night almost as ill out of Newgate, as I did in it.
The next morning she cama to see me; she did what she could to com
fort me, but she saw that was to no purpose; however, as she said, to
sink under the weight was but to increase the weight; she immediately
applied herself to all the proper methods to prevent the effects of it, which
we feared, and first she found out the two fiery jades that had surprised
me. She tampered with them, persuaded them, offered them money, and,
in a word, tried all imaginable ways to prevent a prosecution ; she offered
one of the wenches £100 to go away from her mistress, and not to appear
against me, but she was so resolute, that though she was but a servant-
maid at £3 a year wages, or thereabouts, she refused it, and would have
refused, as my governess said she believed, if she had offered her £500.
Then she attacked the other maid j she was not so hardhearted as the
other, and sometimes seemed inclined to be merciful; but the first wench
kept her up, and would not so much as let my governess talk with her,
but threatened to have her up for tampering with the evidence.
Then she applied to the master, that is to say, the man whose goods
had been stolen, and particularly to his wife, who was inclined at first to
have some compassion for me; she found the woman the same still, but
the man alleged he was bound to prosecute, and that he should forfeit
his recognizance.
My governess offered to finds friend that should get his recognizance
* The bell at St Sepulchre's which tolli upon execution-day.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 153
off of the file, as they call it, and that he should not suffer; but it was
not possible to convince him that he could be safe any way in the world
but by appearing against me; so I was to have three witnesses of fact
against me, the master and his two maids ; that is to say, I was as certain
to be cast for my life as I was that I was alive, and I had nothing to do
but to think of dying. I had but a sad foundation to build upon for that.
as I said before, for all my repentance appeared to me to be only the
effect of my fear of death; not a. sincere regret for the wicked life that I
had lived; and which had brought this misery upon me, or for the offending
my Creator, who was now suddenly to be my judge.
I lived many days here under the utmost horror ; I had death, as it were.
in view, and thought of nothing, night or day, but of gibbets and halters,
evil spirits and devils; it is not to be expressed how I was harassed,
between the dreadful apprehensions of death, and the terror of my con
science reproaching me with my past horrible life.
The ordinary of Newgate came to me, and talked a little in his way,
but all his divinity ran upon confessing my crime, as he called it (though
he knew not what I was in for), making a full discovery, and the like,
without which he told me God would never forgive me; and he said so
little to the purpose that I had no manner of consolation from him; and
then to observe the poor creature preaching confession and repentance to
me in the morning, and find him drunk with brandy by noon, this had
something in it so shocking, that I began to nauseate the man, and his
work too by degrees, for the sake of the man; so that I desired him to
trouble me no more.
I know not how it was, but by the indefatigable application of my
diligent governess I had no bill preferred against me the first session, I
mean to the grand jury, at Guildhall; so I had another month or five weeks
before me, and without doubt this ought to have been accepted by me as
so much time given me for reflection upon what was past, and preparation
for what was to come. I ought to have esteemed it as a space given me
for repentance, and have employed it as such, but it was not in me. I
was sorry, as before, for being in Newgate, but had few signs of repentance
about me.
On the contrary, like the water in the hollows of mountains, which
petrifies and turns into stone whatever it is suffered to drop upon; so
the continual conversing with such a crew of hell-hounds had the same
common operation upon me as upon other people. I degenerated into stone;
I turned first stupid and senseless, and then brutish and thoughtless, and
at last raving mad as any of them 5 in short, I became as naturally pleased
and easy with the place as if indeed I had been born there.
It is scarce possible to imagine that our natures should be capable of
so much degeneracy as to make that pleasant and agreeable, that in itself
is the most complete misery. Here was a circumstance than I think it is
scarce possible to mention a worse: I was as exquisitely miserable as it
was possible for any one to be that had life and health, and money to
help them, as I had.
I had a weight of guilt upon me, enough to sink any creature who had
the least power of reflection left, and had any sense upon them of the
happiness of this life, or the misery of another. I had at first some remorse
indeed, but no repentance; I had now neither remorse or repentance. I
had a crime charged on me, the punishment of which was death} the proof
154 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
so evident, that there was no room for me so much as to plead not guilty,
I had the name of an old offender, so that I had nothing to expect but
death, neither had I myself any thoughts of escaping; and yet a certain
strange lethargy of soul possessed me. I had no trouble, no apprehensions,
no sorrow about me; the first surprise was gone; I was, I may well say,
I know not how; my senses, my reason, nay, my conscience, were all
asleep; my course of life for forty years had been a horrid complication
of wickedness, whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft; and, in a word,
everything but murder and treason had been my practice, from the age
of eighteen, or thereabouts, to threescore; and now I was engulfed in the
misery of punishment, and had an infamous death at the door; and yet
I had no sense of my condition, no thought of heaven or hell, at least that
went any farther than a bare flying touch, like the stitch or pain that gives
a hint and goes off. I neither had a heart to ask God's mercy, or indeed
to think of it. And in this, I think, I have given a brief description of
the completest misery on earth.
All my terrifying thoughts were past, the horrors of the place were
become familiar, and I felt no more uneasiness at the noise and clamours
of the prison, than they did who made that noise; in a word, I was
become a mere Newgate-bird, as wicked and as outrageous as any of
them; nay, I scarce retained the habit and custom of good breeding and
manners which all along till now ran through my conversation ; so thorough
a degeneracy had possessed me, that I was no more the something that
I had been, than if I had never been otherwise than what I was now.
In the middle of this hardened part of my life, I had another sudden
surprise, which called me back a little to that thing called sorrow, which,
indeeed, I began to be past the sense of before, They told me one night
that there was brought into the prison late the night before three high
waymen, who had committed a robbery somewhere on Hounslow Heath,
I think it was, and were pursued to Uxbridge by the country, and there
taken after a gallant resistance, in which many of the country people
were wounded, and some killed.
It is not to be wondered that we prisoners were all desirous enough
to see these brave, topping gentlemen, that were talked up to be such as
their fellows had not been known, and especially because it was said they
would in the morning be removed into the press-yard, having given money
to the head master of the prison, to be allowed the liberty of that better
place. So we that were women placed ourselves in the way, that we
would be sure to see them ; but nothing could express the amazement and
surprise I was in, when the first man that came out, I knew to be my
Lancashire husband, the same with whom I lived so well at Dunstable,
and the same who I afterwards saw at Brickhill, when I was married to
my last husband, as has been related.
I was struck dumb at the sight, and knew neither what to say, or what
to do ; he did not know me, and that was all the present relief I had :
I quitted my company, and retired as much as that dreadful place suffers
anybody to retire, and cried vehemently for a great while. 'Dreadful
creature that I am', said I; 'how many poor people have I made mise
rable ! How many desperate wretches have I sent to the devil ! ' This
gentleman's misfortunes I placed all to my own account. He had told
me at Chester he was ruined by that match, and that his fortunes were
made desperate on my account; for that thinking I had been a fortune,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 5 5
he was run into debt more than he was able to pay; that he would go
into the army, and carry a musket, or buy a horse and take a tour, as he
called it; and though I never told him that I was a fortune, and so did
not actually deceive him myself, yet I did encourage the having it thought
so, and so I was the occasion originally of his mischief.
The surprise of this thing only struck deeper in my thoughts, and gave
me stronger reflections than all that had befallen me before. I grieved
day and night, and the more for that they told me he was the captain of
the gang, and that he had committed so many robberies; that Hind, or
Whitney, or the Golden Farmer were fools to him; that he would surely
be hanged, if there were no more men left in the country; and that there
would be abundance of people come in against him.
I was overwhelmed with grief for him; my own case gave me no dis
turbance compared to this, and I loaded myself with reproaches on his
account. I bewailed my misfortunes, and the ruin he was now come to,
at such a rate that I relished nothing now as I did before and the first
reflections I made upon the horrid life I had lived began to return upon
me; and as these things returned, my abhorrence of the place, and of the
way of living in it, returned also; in a word, I was perfectly changed
and become another body.
While I was under these influences of sorrow for him, came notice to
me that the next sessions there would be a bill preferred to the grand
jury against me, and that I should be tried for my life, My temper was
touched before, the wretched boldness of spirit which I had acquired abated,
and conscious guilt began to flow in my mind. In short, I began to
think, and to think indeed is one real advance from hell to heaven. All
that hardened state and temper of soul, which I said so much of before,
is but a deprivation of thought; he that is restored to his thinking, is
restored to himself.
As soon as I began, I say, to think, the first thing that occurred to me
broke out thus: 'Lord! what will become of me? I shall be cast, to be
sure, and there is nothing beyond that but death! I have no friends;
what shall I do ? I shall be certainly cast ! Lord, have mercy upon me !
What will become of me?' This was a sad thought, you will say, to be
the first, after so long time, that had started in my soul of that kind,
and yet even this was nothing but fright at what was to come ; there was
not a word of sincere repentance in it all. However, I was dreadfully
dejected, and disconsolate to the last degree; and as I had no friend to
communicate my distressed thoughts to, it lay so heavy upon me that it
threw me into fits and swoonings several times a day. I sent for my old
governess, and she, give her her due, acted the part of a true friend. She
left no stone unturned to prevent the grand jury finding the bill. She
went to several of the jurymen, talked with them, and endeavoured to
possess them with favourable dispositions, on account that nothing was
taken away, and no house broken, &c. ; but all would not do ; the two
wenches swore home to the fact, and the jury found the bill for robbery
and housebreaking, that is, for felony ared burglary.
I sank down when they brought the news of it, and after I came to
myself I thought I should have died with the weight of it. My governess
acted a true mother to me; she pitied me, she cried with me and for
me, but she could not help me; and, to add to the terror of it, 'twas the
discourse all over the house that I should die for it. I could hear them
156 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
talk it among themselves very often, and see them shake their heads, and
say they were sorry for it, and the like, as is usual in the place. But
still nobody came to tell me their thoughts, till at last one of the keepers
came to me privately, and said, with a sigh, 'Well, Mrs Flanders, you
will be tried a Friday' (this was but a Wednesday); 'what do you intend
to do ? ' I turned as white as a clout, and said, ' God knows what I shall
do ; for my part, I know not what to do.' ' Why ', says he, ' I won't flatter
you; I would have you prepare for death, for I doubt you will be cast;
and as you are an old offender, I doubt you will find but little mercy,
They say', added he, 'your case is very plain, and that the witnesses
swear so home against you, there will be no standing it.'
This was a stab into the very vitals of one under such a burthen, and
I could not speak a word, good or bad, for a great while. At last I burst
out into tears, and said to him, 'Oh, sir, what must I do?J 'Do!' saya
he ; ' send for a minister, and talk with him ; for, indeed, Mrs Flanders,
unless you have very good friends, you are no woman for this world.'
This was plain dealing indeed, but it was very harsh to me; at least I
thought it so. He left me in the greatest confusion imaginable, and all
that night I lay awake. And now I began to say my prayers, which I
had scarce done before since my last husband's death, or from a little
while after. And truly I may well call it saying my prayers, for I was
in such a confusion, and had such horror upon my mind, that though I
cried, and repeated several times the ordinary expression of 'Lord, have
mercy upon mel' I never brought myself to any sense of being a mise
rable sinner, as indeed I was, and of confessing my sins to God, and
begging pardon for the sake of Jesus Christ. I was overwhelmed with
the sense of my condition, being tried for my life, and being sure to be
executed, and on this account I cried out all night, 'Lord! what will become
of me ? Lord what shall I do ? Lord, have mercy upon me ! ' and the like.
My poor afflicted governess was now as much concerned as I, and a
great deal more trnly penitent, though she had no prospect of being
brought to a sentence. Not but that she deserved it as much as I, and
so she said herself; but she had not done anything for many years, other
than receiving what I and others had stolen, and encouraging us to steal
it. But she cried and took on, like a distracted body, wringing her hands,
and crying out that she was undone, that she believed there was a curse
from heaven upon her, that she should be damned, that she had been the
destruction of all her friends, that she brought such a one, and such a
one to the gallows ; and there she reckoned up ten or eleven people, some
of which I have given an account of, that came to untimely ends; and
that now she was the occasion of my ruin, for she had persuaded me to
go on, when I would have left off. I interrupted her there. ' No, mother,
no', said I; 'don't speak of that, for you would have had me left off
when I got the mercer's money again, and when I came home from Har
wich, and I would not hearken to you; therefore you have not been to
blame; it is I only have ruined myself, I have brought myself to this
misery ' ; and thus we spent many hours together.
Well, there was no remedy; the prosecution went on, and on the
Thursday I was carried down to the sessions-house, where I was arraigned,
as they called it, and the next day I was appointed to be tried. At the
arraignment I pleaded 'Not guilty', and well I might, for I was indicted
for felony and burglary; that is, for feloniously stealing two pieces of
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 157
brocaded silk, value £46, the goods of Anthony Johnson, and for breaking
open the doors ; whereas I knew very well they could not pretend 1 had
broken up the doors, or so much as lifted up a latch.
On the Friday I was brought to my trial. I had so exhausted my
spirits with crying for two or three days before, that I slept better the
Thursday night than I expected, and had more courage for my trial than
I thought possible for me to have.
When the trial began, and the indictment was read, I would have spoke,
but they told me the witnesses must be heard first, and then I should
have time to be heard. The witnesses were the two wenches, a couple
of hard-mouthed jades indeed, for though the thing was truth in the main,
yet they aggravated it to the utmost extremity, and swore I had the goods
wholly in my possession, that I hid them among my clothes, that I was
going off with them, that I had one foot over the threshold when they
discovered themselves, and then I put t'other over, so that I was quite
out of the house in the street with the goods before they took me, and then
they seized me, and took the goods upon me. The fact in general was
true, but I insisted upon it, that they stopped me before I had set my
foot clear of the threshold. But that did not argue much, for I had
taken the goods, and was bringing them away, if 1 had not been taken.
I pleaded that I had stole nothing, they had lost nothing, that the door
was open, and I went in with design to buy. If, seeing nobody in the
house, I had taken any of them up in my hand, it could not be concluded
that I intended to steal them, for that I never carried them farther than the
door, to look on them with the better light.
The Court would not allow that by any means, and made a kind of a
jest of my intending to buy the goods, that being no shop for the selling
of anything; and as to carrying them to the door to look at them, the
maids made their impudent mocks upon that, and spent their wit upon it
very much; told the Court I had looked at them sufficiently, and approved
them very well, for I had packed them up, and was a-going with them.
In short, I was found guilty of felony, but acquitted of the burglary, which
was but small comfort to me, the first bringing me to a sentence of death,
and the last would have done no more. The next day I was carried down
to receive the dreadful sentence, and when they came to ask me what I
had to say why sentence should not pass, I stood mute a while, but some
body prompted me aloud to speak to the judges, for that they could re
present things favourably for me. This encouraged me, and I told them
I had nothing to say to stop the sentence, but that I had much to say to
bespeak the mercy of the Court ; that I hoped they would allow something
in such a case for the circumstances of it; that I had broken no doors,
had carried nothing off; that nobody had lost anything; that the person
whose goods they were was pleased to say he desired mercy might be
shown (which indeed he very honestly did); that, at the worst, it was the
first offence, and that I had never been before any court of justice before;
and, in a word, I spoke with more courage than I thought I could have
done, and in such a moving tone, and though with tears, yet not so many
tears as to obstruct my speech, that I could see it moved others to tears
that heard me.
The judges sat grave and mute, gave me an easy hearing, and time to
say all that I would, but, saying neither yes or no to it, pronounced the
sentence of death upon me, a sentence to me like death itself, which con-
158 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
founded me. I had no more spirit left in me. I had no tongue to speak,
or eyes to look up either to God or man.
My poor governess was utterly disconsolate, and she that was my com
forter before, wanted comfort now herself; and sometimes mourning, some
times raging, was as much out of herself as any mad woman in Bedlam.
Nor was she only disconsolate as to me, but she was struck with horror
at the sense of her own wicked life, and began to look back upon it with
a taste quite different from mine, for she was penitent to the highest degree
for her sins, as well as sorrowful for the misfortune. She sent for a minister,
too, a serious, pious, good man, and applied herself with such earnestness,
by his assistance, to the work of sincere repentance, that I believe, and so
did the minister too, that she was a true penitent; and, which is still more,
she was not only so for the occasion, and at that juncture, but she contin
ued so, as I was informed, to the day of her death.
It is rather to be thought of than expressed what was now my condition.
I had nothing before me but death; and as I had no friends to assist me,
I expected nothing but to find my name in the dead warrant, which was
to come for the execution, next Friday, of five more and myself.
In the meantime my poor distressed governess sent me a minister, who
at her request came to visit me. He exhorted me seriously to repent of
all my sins, and to dally no longer with my soul; not flattering myself
with hopes of life, which, he said, he was informed there was no room
to expect, but unfeignedly to look up to God with my whole soul, and
to cry for pardon in the name of Jesus Christ. He backed his discourses
with proper quotations of Scripture, encouraging the greatest sinner to
repent, and turn from their evil way; and when he had done, he kneeled
down and prayed with me.
It was now that, for the first time, I felt any real signs of repentance.
I now began to look back upon my past life with abhorrence, and having
a kind of view into the other side of time, the things of life, as I believe
they do with everybody at such a time, began to look with a different
aspect, and quite another shape, than they did before. The views of felicity,
the joy, the griefs of life, were quite other things; and I had nothing in
my thoughts but what was so infinitely superior to what I had known in
life, that it appeared to be the greatest stupidity to lay a weight upon
anything, though the most valuable in this world.
The word eternity represented itself with all its incomprehensible additions,
and I had such extended notions of it that I know not how to express them.
Among the rest, how absurd did every pleasant thing look, I mean, that
we had counted pleasant before, when I reflected that these sordid trifles
were the things for which we forfeited eternal felicity.
With these reflections came in of mere course severe reproaches for my
wretched behaviour in my past life ; that I had forfeited all hope of hap
piness in the eternity that I was just going to enter into; and, on the
contrary, was entitled to all that was miserable; and all this with the
frightful addition of its being also eternal.
I am not capable of reading lectures of instruction to anybody, but I
relate this IB tbe very manner in which things then appeared to me, as
far as I am able, but infinitely short of the lively impressions which they
made on my soul_at^ ihat_Jime ; indeed, those impressions are not to be
explained by words, or, if they are, I am not mistress of words to express
them. It must be the work of every sober reader to make just reflections.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 159
as their own circumstances may direct j and this is what every one at some
time or other may feel something of; I mean, a clearer sight into things
to come than they had here, and a dark view of their own concern in them.
But I.£O back to m^. ow»-e«se. The minister pressed me to tell him,
as far as I thought convenient, in what state I found myself as to the
sight I had of things beyond life. He told me he did not come as ordinary
of the place, whose business it is to extort confessions from prisoners, for
the further detecting of other offenders; that his business was to move me
to such freedom of discourse as might serve to disburthen my own mind,
and furnish him to administer comfort to me as far as was in his power;
and assured me, that whatever I said to him should remain with him, and
be as much a secret as if it was known only to God and myself; and that
he desired to know nothing of me, but to qualify him to give proper advice
to me, and to pray to God for me.
This honest, friendly way of treating me unlocked all the sluices of my
passions. He bioke into my very soul by it; and I unravelled all the wicked
ness of my life to him. In a word, I gave him an abridgment of this whole
history ; I gave him the picture of my conduct for fifty years in miniature.
I hid nothing from him, and he in return exhorted me to a sincere
repentance, explained to me what he meant by repentance, and then drew
out such a scheme of infinite mercy, proclaimed from heaven to sinners of
the greatest magnitude, that he left me nothing to say, that looked like
despair, or doubting of being accepted; and in this condition he left me
the first night.
He visited me again the next morning, and went on with his method
of explaining the terms of divine mercy, which according to him consisted
of nothing more difficult than that of being sincerely desirous of it, and
willing to accept it ; only a sincere regret for, and hatred of, those things
which rendered me so just an object of divine vengeance. I am not able
to repeat the excellent discourses of this extraordinary man; all that I am
able to do, is to say that he revived my heart, and brought me into such
a condition that I never knew anything of in my life before. I was covered
with shame and tears for things past, and yet had at the same time a secret
surprising joy at the prospect of being a true penitent, and obtaining the
comfort of a penitent — I mean the hope of being forgiven ; and so swift
did thoughts circulate, and so high did the impressions they had made
upon me run, that I thought I could freely have gone out that minute to
execution, without any uneasiness at all, casting my soul entirely into the
arms of infinite mercy as a penitent.
The good gentleman was so moved with a view of the influence which
he saw these things had on me, that he blessed God he had come to visit
me, and resolved not to leave me till the last moment.
It was no less than twelve days after our receiving sentence before any
were ordered for execution, and then the dead warrant, as they call it,
came down, and I found my name was among them. A terrible blow this
was to my new resolutions ; indeed my heart sank within me, and I
swooned away twice, one after another, but spoke not a word. The good
minister was sorely afflicted for me, and did what he could to comfort me,
with the same arguments and the same moving eloquence that he did before,
and left me not that evening so long as the prison-keepers would suffer
him to stay in the prison, unless he would be locked up with me all night,
which he was not willing to be.
l6o THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I wondered much that I did not see him all the next day, it being but the
day before the time appointed for execution ; and I was greatly discouraged
and dejected, and indeed almost sank for want of that comfort which he had
so often, and with such success, yielded me in his former visits. I waited with
great impatience, and under the greatest oppression of spirits imaginable,
till about four o'clock, when he came to my apartment; for I had obtained
the favour, by the help of money, nothing being to be done in that place
without it, not to be kept in the condemned hole, among the rest of the
prisoners who were to die, but to have a little dirty chamber to myself.
My heart leaped within me for joy when I heard his voice at the door,
even before I saw him ; but let any one judge what kind of motion I found
in my soul, when, after having made a short excuse for his not coming,
he showed me that his time had been employed on my account, that he
had obtained a favourable report from the Recorder in my case, and, in
short, that he had brought me a reprieve.
He used all the caution that he was able in letting me know what it
would have been double cruelty to have concealed ; for as grief had overset
me before, so did joy overset me now, and I fell into a more dangerous
swooning than at first, and it was not without difficulty that I was re
covered at all.
The good man having made a very Christian exhortation to me not to
let the joy of my reprieve put the remembrance of my past sorrow out of
my mind, and told me that he must leave me, to go and enter the reprieve
in the books, and show it to the sheriffs, he stood up just before his going
away, and in a very earnest manner prayed to God for me, that my
repentance might be made unfeigned and sincere; and that my coming
back, as it were, into life again might not be a returning to the follies of
life, which I had made such solemn resolutions to forsake. I joined heartily
in that petition, and must needs say I had deeper impressions upon my
mind all that night, of the mercy of God in sparing my life, and a greater
detestation of my sins, from a sense of that goodness, than I had in all
my sorrow before.
This may be thought inconsistent in itself, and wide from the business
of this book ; particularly, I reflect that many of those who may be pleased
and diverted with the relation of the wicked part of my story may not
relish this, which is really the best part of my life, the most advantageous
to myself, and the most instructive to others. Such, however, will I hope,
allow me liberty to make my story complete. It would be a severe satire
on such to say they do not relish the repentance as much as they do the
crime ; and they had rather the history were a complete tragedy, as it was
very likely to have been.
But I go on with my relation. The next morning there was a sad scene
indeed in the prison. The first thing I was saluted with in the morning
was the tolling of the great bell at St Sepulchre's, which ushered in the
day. As soon as it began to toll, a dismal groaning and crying was heard
from the condemned hole, where there lay six poor souls, who were to
be executed that day, some for one crime, some for another, and two for
murder.
This was followed by a confused clamour in the house, among the several
prisoners, expressing their awkward sorrows for the poor creatures that wer«
to die, but in a manner extremely differing one from another. Some cried
for th«m; some brutishly huzzaed, and wished them a good journey; some
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS l6l
damned and cursed those that had brought them to it, many pitying them,
and some few, but very few, praying for them.
There was hardly room for so much composure of mind as was required
for me to bless the merciful Providence that had, as it were, snatched
me out of the jaws of this destruction. I remained, as it were, dumb and
silent, overcome with the sense of it, and not able to express what I had
in my heart; for the passions on such occasions as these are certainly so
agitated as not to be able presently to regulate their own motions.
All the while the poor condemned creatures were preparing for death,
and the ordinary, as they call him, was busy with them, disposing them to
submit to their sentence — I say, all this while I was seized with a fit of
trembling, as much as I could have been if I had been in the same condition
as I was the day before; I was so violenty agitated by this surprising fit
that I shook as if it had been an ague, so that I could not speak or look
but like one distracted. As soon as they were all put into the carts and gone,
which, however, I had not courage enough to see — I say, as soon as they
were gone, I fell into a fit of crying involuntarily, as a mere distemper,
and yet so violent, and it held me so long, that I knew not what course
to take, nor could I stop, or put a check to it, no, not with all the strength
and courage I had.
This fit of crying held me near two hours, and, as I believe, held me
till they were all out of the world, and then a most humble, penitent,
serious kind of joy succeeded; a real transport it was, or passion of
thankfulness, and in this I continued most part of the day.
In the evening the good minister visited me again, and fell to his usual
good discourses. He congratulated my having a space yet allowed me for
repentance, whereas the state of those six poor creatures was determined,
and they were now past the offers of salvation; he pressed me to retain
the same sentiments of the things of life that I had when I had a view
of eternity ; and, at the end of all, told me that I should not conclude that
all was over, that a reprieve was not a pardon, that he could not answer
for the effects of it ; however, I had this mercy, that I had more time given
me, and it was my business to improve that time.
This discourse left a kind of sadness on my heart, as if I might expect
the affair would have a tragical issue still, which, however, he had no
certainty of5 yet I did not at that time question him about it, he having
said he would do his utmost to bring it to a good end, and that he hoped
he might, but he would not have me be secure ; and the consequence
showed that he had reason for what he said.
It was about a fortnight after this, that I had some just apprehensions
that I should be included in the dead warrant at the ensuing sessions ;
and it was not without great difficulty, and at last an humble petition for
transportation, that I avoided it, so ill was I beholding to fame, and so
prevailing was the report of being an old offender; though in that they
did not do me strict justice, for I was not in the sense of the law an old
offender, whatever I was in the eye of the judge, for I had never been
before them in a judicial way before ; so the judges could not charge me
with being an old offender, but the Recorder was pleased to represent my
case as he thought fit.
I had now a certainty of life indeed, but with the hard conditions of
Deing ordered for transportation, which was, I say, a hard condition in
itself, but not when comparatively considered; and therefore I shall make
II
1 62 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
no comments upon the sentence, nor upon the choice I was put to. We
all shall choose anything rather than death, especially when 'tis attended
with an uncomfortable prospect beyond it, which was my case.
The good minister, whose interest, though a stranger to me, had obtained
me the reprieve, mourned sincerely for his part. He was in hopes, he
said, that I should have ended my days under the influence of good
instruction, that I might not have forgot my former distresses, and that I
should not have been turned loose again among such a wretched crew as
are thus sent abroad, where, he said, I must have more than ordinary
secret assistance from the grace of God, if I did not turn as wicked
again as ever.
I have not for a good while mentioned my governess, who had been
dangerously sick, and, being in as near a view of death by her disease as
I was by my sentence, was a very great penitent; I say, I have not mentioned
her, nor indeed did I see her in all this time; but being now recovering,
and just able to come abroad, she came to see me.
I told her my condition, and what a different flux and reflux of fears
and hopes I had been agitated with; I told her what I had escaped, and
upon what terms; and she was present when the minister expressed his
fears of my relapsing again into wickedness upon my falling into the
wretched company that are generally transported. Indeed I had a melan
choly reflection upon it in my own mind, for I knew what a dreadful
gang was always sent away together, and said to my governess that the
good minister's fears were not without cause. 'Well, well', says she, 'but
I hope you will not be tempted with such a horrid example as that.' And
as soon as the minister •was gone, she told me she would not have me
discouraged, for perhaps ways and means might be found to dispose of
me in a particular way, by myself, of which she would talk further with
me afterward.
I looked earnestly at her, and thought she looked more cheerfully than
she usually had done, and I entertained immediately a thousand notions
of being delivered, but could not for my life imagine the methods, or
think of one that was feasible ; but I was too much concerned in it to let
her go from me without explaining herself, which, though she was very
loth to do, yet, as I was still pressing, she answered me in a few words,
thus: 'Why, you have money, have you not? Did you ever know one in
your life that was transported and had a hundred pounds in his pocket,
I'll warrant ye, child?' says she.
I understood her presently, but told her I saw no room to hope for
anything but a strict execution of the order, and as it was a severity that
was esteemed a mercy, there was no doubt but it would be strictly obser
ved. She said no more but this: 'We will try what can be done'} and
so we parted.
I lay in the prison near fifteen weeks after this. What the reason of
it was I know not, but at the end of this time I was put on board of a
ship in the Thames, and with me a gang of thirteen as hardened vile
creatures as ever Newgate produced in my time; and it would really well
take up a history longer than mine to describe the degrees of impudence
and audacious villainy that those thirteen were arrived to, and the manner
of their behaviour in the voyage ; of which I have a very diverting account
by me, which the captain of the ship who carried them over gave me,
and which he caused his mate to write down at large.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 163
It may, perhaps, be thought trifling to enter here into a relation of all
the little incidents which attended me in this interval of my circumstances ;
I mean between the final order for my transportation and the time of
going on board the ship ; and I am too near the end of my story to allow
room for it; but something relating to me and my Lancashire husband I
must not omit.
He had, as I have observed already, been carried from the master's side
of the ordinary prison into the press-yard, with three of his comrades, for
they found another to add to them after some time ; here, for what reason
I knew not, they were kept without being brought to a trial almost three
months. It seems they found means to bribe or buy off some who were
to come in against them, and they wanted evidence to convict them. After
some puzzle on this account, they made shift to get proof enough against
two of them to carry them off; but the other two, of which my Lancas
hire husband was one, lay still in suspense. They had, I think, one
positive evidence against each of them, but the law obliging them to have
two witnesses, they could make nothing of it. Yet they were resolved not
to part with the men neither, not doubting but evidence would at last come
in; and in order to this, I think publication was made that such prisoners
were taken, and any one might come to the prison and see them.
I took this opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, pretending I had been
robbed in the Dunstable coach, and that I would go to see the two high
waymen. But when I came into the press-yard, I so disguised myself,
and muffled my face up so that he could see little of me, and knew
nothing of who I was ; but when I came back, I said publicly that I knew
them very well.
Immediately it was all over the prison that Moll Flanders would turn
evidence against one of the highwaymen, and that I was to come off by
it from the sentence of transportation.
They heard of it, and immediately my husband desired to see this Mrs
Flanders that knew him so well, and was to be an evidence against him ;
and accordingly I had leave to go to him. I dressed myself up as well
as the best clothes that I suffered myself ever to appear in there would
allow me, and went to the press-yard, but had a hood over my face. He
said little to me at first, but asked me if I knew him. I told him, 'Yes,
very well'; but, as I concealed my face, so I counterfeited my voice too,
that he had no guess at who I was. He asked me where I had seen
him, I told him between Dunstable and Brickhill; but turning to the
keeper that stood by, I asked if I might not be admitted to talk with him
alone. He said, ' Yes, yes ', and so very civilly withdrew.
As soon as he was gone, and I had shut the door, I threw off my hood,
and bursting out into tears, 'My dear', said I, 'do you not know me?'
He turned pale, and stood speechless, like one thunderstruck, and, not
able to conquer the surprise, said no more but this, 'Let me sit down';
and sitting down by the table, leaning his head on his hand, fixed his
eyes on the ground as one stupid. I cried so vehemently, on the other
hand, that it was a good while ere I could speak any more; but after I
had given vent to my passion, I repeated the same words, 'My dear, do
you not know me ? ' At which he answered, ' Yes ', and said no more a
good while.
After some time continuing in the surprise, as above, he cast up his
eyes towards me, and said, 'How could you be so cruel?' I did not
164 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
really understand what he meant ; and I answered, ' How can you call me
cruel?' 'To come to me', says he, 'in such a place at this, is it not to
insult me? I have not robbed you, at least not on the highway.'
I perceived by this, that he knew nothing of the miserable circumstances
I was in, and thought that, having got intelligence of his being there, I
had come to upbraid him with his leaving me. But I had too much to
say to him to be affronted, and told him in a few words, that I was far
from coming to insult him, but at best I came to condole mutually; that
he would be easily satisfied that I had no such view, when I should tell
him that my condition was worse than his, and that many ways. He
looked a little concerned at the expression of my condition being worse
than his, but, with a kind of a smile, said, 'How can that be? When
you see me fettered, and in Newgate, and two of my companions executed
already, can you say your condition is worse than mine?'
'Come, my dear', says I, 'we have a long piece of work to do, if I
should be to relate, or you to hear, my unfortunate history; but if you
will hear it, you will soon conclude with me that my condition is worse
than yours.' 'How is that possible', says he, 'when I expect to be cast
for my life the very next sessions?' 'Yes', says I, ''tis very possible,
when I shall tell you that I have been cast for my life three sessions ago,
and am now under sentence of death ; is not my case worse than yours ? '
Then, indeed, he stood silent again, like one struck dumb, and after a
little while he starts up. 'Unhappy couple!' says he; 'how can this be
possible?' I took him by the hand. 'Come, my dear', said I, 'sit down,
and let us compare our sorrows. I am a prisoner in this very house, and
in a much worse circumstance than you, and you will be satisfied I do
not come to insult you when I tell you the particulars.' And with this
we sat down together, and I told him so much of my story as I thought
convenient, bringing it at last to my being reduced to great poverty, and
representing myself as fallen into some company that led me to relieve
my distresses by a way that I had been already unacquainted with, and
that, they making an attempt on a tradesman's house, I was seized upon,
for having been but just at the door, the maid-servant pulling me in; that
I neither had broke any lock or taken anything away, and that, notwith
standing that, I was brought in guilty and sentenced to die; but that the
judges having been made sensible of the hardship of my circumstances,
had obtained leave for me to be transported.
I told him I fared the worse for being taken in the prison for one Moll
Flanders, who was a famous successful thief, that all of them had heard
of, but none of them had ever seen; but that, as he knew, was none of
my name. But I placed all to the account of my ill fortune, and that
under this name I was dealt with as an old offender, though this was the
first thing they had ever known of me. I gave him a long account of
what had befallen me since I saw him, but told him I had seen him since
Le might think I had ; then gave him an account how I had seen him at
Brickhill ; how he was pursued, and how, by giving an account that I knew
him, and that he was a very honest gentleman, the hue-and-cry was
stopped, and the high constable went back again.
He listened most attentively to all my story, and smiled at the particu
lars, being all of them infinitely below what he had been at the head of;
but when I came to the story of Little Brickhill he was surprised. 'And
was it you, my dear', said he, 'that gave the check to the mob at Brick-
I
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 165
hill?' 'Yes', said I: 'it was I indeed.' Then I told him the particulars
which I had observed of him there. • Why, then ', said he, ' it was you
that saved my life at that time, and I am glad I owe my life to you, for
I will pay the debt to you now, and I'll deliver you from the present
condition you are in, or I will die in the attempt.'
I told him, by no means ; it was a risk too great, not worth his running
the hazard of, and for a life not worth his saving. 'Twas no matter for
that, he said; it was a life worth all the world to him; a life that had
given him a new life ; ' for ', says he, ' I was never in real danger, but that
time, till the last minute when I was taken.' Indeed, his danger then lay
in his believing he had not been pursued that way; for they had gone
off from Hockley quite another way, and had come over the enclosed
country into Brickhill, and were sure they had not been seen by anybody.
Here he gave a long history of his life, which indeed would make a
very strange history, and be infinitely diverting. He told me that he took
the road about twelve years before he married me ; that the woman which
called him brother, was not any kin to him, but one that belonged to
their gang, and who, keeping correspondence with them, lived always in
town, having great acquaintance ; that she gave them perfect intelligence of
persons going out of town, and that they had made several good booties
by her correspondence; that she thought she had fixed a fortune for him,
when she brought me to him, but happened to be disappointed, which he
really could not blame her for; that if I had had an estate, which she was
informed I had, he had resolved to leave off the road and live a new life,
but never to appear in public till some general pardon had been passed,
or till he could, for money, have got his name into some particular pardon,
so that he might have been perfectly easy ; but that, as it had proved other
wise, he was obliged to take up the old trade again.
He gave a long account of some of his adventures, and particularly one
where he robbed the West Chester coaches near Lichfield, when he got a
very great booty; and after that, how he robbed five graziers in the west,
going to Burford Fair, in Wiltshire, to buy sheep. He told me he got so
much money on those two occasions that, if he had known where to have
found me, he would certainly have embraced my proposal of going with
me to Virginia, or to have settled in a plantation, or some other of the
English colonies in America.
He told me he wrote three letters to me, directed according to my order,
but heard nothing from me. This indeed I knew to be true, but the letters
coming to my hand in the time of my latter husband, I could do nothing
in it, and therefore gave no answer, that so he might believe they had
miscarried.
Being thus disappointed, he said he carried on the old trade ever since,
though, when he had gotten so much money, he said, he did not run such
desperate risks as he did before. Then he gave me some account of several
hard and desperate encounters which he had with gentlemen on the road,
who parted too hardly with their money, and showed me some wounds
he had received; and he had one or two very terrible wounds indeed,
particularly one by a pistol-bullet, which broke his arm, and another with
a sword, which ran him quite through the body, but that missing his vitals,
he was cured again; one of his comrades having kept with him so faith
fully, and so friendly, as that he assisted him in riding near eighty miles
before his arm was set, and then got a surgeon in a considerable city,
1 66 TIIE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
remote from the place where it was done, pretending they were gentleman
travelling towards Carlisle, that they had been attacked on the road by
highwaymen, and that one of them had shot him into the arm.
This, he said, his friend managed so well that they were not suspected,
but lay still till he was cured. He gave me also so many distinct accounts
of his adventures, that it is with great reluctance that I decline the relating
them; but this is my own story, not his.
I then inquired into the circumstances of his present case, and what it
was he expected when he came to be tried. He told me, that they had
no evidence against him ; for that, of the three robberies which they were
all charged with, it was his good fortune that he was but in one of them,
and that there was but one witness to be had to that fact, which was not
sufficient; but that it was expected some others would come in, and that
he thought, when he first saw me, I had been one that came of that errand;
but that if nobody came in against him he hoped he should be cleared;
that he had some intimation, that if he would submit to transport himself,
he might be admitted to it without a trial; but that he could not think
of it with any temper, and thought he could much easier submit to be
hanged.
I blamed him for that; first, because if he was transported, there might
be an hundred ways for him, that was a gentleman, and a bold enterprising
man, to find his way back again, and perhaps some ways and means to
come back before he went. He smiled at that part, and said he should
like the last the best of the two, for he had a kind of horror upon his
mind at his being sent to the plantations, as the Romans sent slaves to
work in the mines; that he thought the passage into another state much
more tolerable at the gallows, and that this was the general notion of all
the gentlemen who were driven by the exigence of their fortunes to take
the road; that at the place of execution there was at least an end of all
the miseries of the present state; and as for what was to follow, a man
was, in his opinion, as likely to repent sincerely in the last fortnight of
his life, under the agonies of a jail and the condemned hole, as he would
ever be in the woods and wildernesses of America; that servitude and
hard labour were things gentlemen could never stoop to; that it was but
the way to force them to be their own executioners, which was much
worse; and that he could not have any patience when he did but
think of it.
I used the utmost of my endeavour to persuade him, and joined that
known woman's rhetoric to it — I mean that of tears. I told him the infamy
of a public execution was certainly a greater pressure upon the spirits of
a gentleman than any mortifications that he could meet with abroad; that
he had at least in the other a chance for his life, whereas here he had
none at all ; that it was the easiest thing in the world for him to manage
the captain of a ship, who were, generally speaking, men of good humour;
and a small matter of conduct, especially if there was any money to be
had, would make way for him to buy himself off when he came to Virginia.
He looked wishfully at me, and I guessed he meant that he had no
money; but I was mistaken, his meaning was another way. 'You hinted
just now, my dear ', said he, ' that there might be a way of coming back
before I went, by which I understood ^you that it might be possible to
buy it off here. I had rather give £260 to prevent going, than £100 to
be set at liberty when I came there.' (f That is. my dear ', said I, ' because
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 67
you do not know the place as well as I do.' 'That may be' said he;
' and yet I believe, as well as you know it, you would do the same, unless
it is because, as you told me, you have a mother there.'
I told him, as to my mother, she must be dead many years before; and
as for any other relations that I might have there, I knew them not; that
since my misfortunes had reduced me to the condition I had been in for
some years, I had not kept up any correspondence with them; and that
he would easily believe I should find but a cold reception from them if I
should be put to make my first visit in the condition of a transported
felon ; that therefore, if I went thither, I resolved not to see them ; but that
I had many views in going there, which took off all the uneasy part of
it; and if he found himself obliged to go also, I should easily instruct him
how to manage himself, so as never to go a servant at all, especially since
I found he was not destitute of money, which was the only friend in such
a condition.
He smiled, and said he did not tell me he had money. I took him up
short, and told him I hoped he did not understand by my speaking that
I should expect any supply from him if he had money ; that, on the other
hand, though I had not a great deal, yet I did not want, and while I had
any I would rather add to him than weaken him, seeing, whatever he had,
I knew in the case of transportation he would have occasion of it all.
He expressed himself in a most tender manner upon that head. He told
me what money he had was not a great deal, but that he would never
hide any of it from me if I wanted it, and assured me he did not speak
with any such apprehensions; that he was only intent upon what I had
hinted to him; that here he knew what to do, but there he should be the
most helpless wretch alive.
I told him he frighted himself with that which had no terror in it; that
if he had money, as I was glad to hear he had, he might not only avoid
the servitude supposed to be the consequence of transportation, but begin
the world upon such a new foundation as he could not fail of success in,
with but the common application usual in such cases; that he could not
but call to mind I had recommended it to him many years before, and
proposed it for restoring our fortunes in the world ; and I would tell him
now, that to convince him both of the certainty of it, and of my being
fully acquainted with the method, and also fully satisfied in the probability
of success, he should first see me deliver myself from the necessity of
going over at all, and then that I would go with him freely, and of my
own choice, and perhaps carry enough with me to satisfy him; that I did
not offer it for want of being able to live without assistance from him,
but that I thought our mutual misfortunes had been such as were sufficient
to reconcile us both to quitting this part of the world, and living where
nobody could upbraid us with what was past, and without the agonies of
a condemned hole to drive us to it, where we should look back on all
our past disasters with infinite satisfaction, when we should consider that
our enemies should entirely forget us, and that we should live as new
people in a new world, nobody having anything to say to us, or we
to them.
I pressed this home to him with so many arguments and answered all
his own passionate objections so effectually, that he embraced me, and
told me I treated him with such a sincerity as overcame him ; that he
would lake ray advice, and would strive to submit to his fate in hope of
1 68 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
having the comfort of so faithful a counsellor and such a companion in
his misery. But still he put me in mind of what I had mentioned before,
namely, that there might be some way to get off before he went, and that
it might be possible to avoid going at all, which he said would be much
better. I told him he should see, and be fully satisfied that I would do
my utmost in that part too, and if it did not succeed, yet that I would
make good the rest.
We parted after this long conference with such testimonies of kindness
and affection as I thought were equal, if not superior, to that at our parting
at Dunstable ; and now I saw more plainly the reason why he then declined
coming with me toward London, and why, when we parted there, he told
me it was not convenient to come to London with me, as he would otherwise
have done. I have observed that the account of his life would have
made a much more pleasing history than this of mine ; and, indeed, nothing
in it was more strange than this part, viz. that he carried on that desperate
trade full five-and-twenty years, and had never been taken, the success he
had met with had been so very uncommon, and such that sometimes he
had lived handsomely and retired in one place for a year or two at a
time, keeping himself and a manservant to wait on him, and has often sat
in the coffeehouses and heard the very people whom he had robbed give
account of their being robbed, and of the places and circumstances, so that
he could easily remember that it was the same.
In this manner it seems he lived near Liverpool at the time he unluckily
married me for a fortune. Had I been the fortune he expected, I verily
believe he would have taken up and lived honestly.
He had with the rest of his misfortunes the good luck not to be actually
upon the spot when the robbery was clone which they were committed for,
and so none of the persons robbed could swear to him. But it seems as
he was taken with the gang, one hard-mouthed countryman swore home to
him ; and according to the publication they had made, they expected more
evidence against him, and for that reason he was kept in hold.
However, the offer which was made to him of transportation was made,
as I understood, upon the intercession of some great person who pressed
him hard to accept of it; and as he knew there were several that might
come in against him I thought his friend was in the right, and I lay at
him night and day to delay it no longer.
At last, with much difficulty, he gave his consent; and as he was not
therefore admitted to transportation in court, and on his petition, as I was,
so he found himself under a difficulty to avoid embarking himself, as I
had said he might have done; his friend having given security for him
that he should transport himself, and not return within the term.
This hardship broke all my measures, for the steps I took afterwards
for my own deliverance were hereby rendered wholly ineffectual, unless I
would abandon him, and leave him to go to America by himself, than
which he protested 'he would much rather go directly to the gallows.
I must now return to my own case. The time of my being transported
was near at hand; my governess, who continued my fast friend, had tried
to obtain a pardon, but it could not be done unless with an expense too
heavy for my purse, considering that to be left empty, unless I had resolved
to return to my old trade, had been worse than transportation, because
there I could live, here I could not. The good minister stood very hard
on another account to prevent my being transported also ; but he was
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 169
answered that my life had been given me at his first solicitations, and
therefore he ought to ask no more. He was sensibly grieved at my going,
because, as he said, he feared I should lose the good impressions which
a prospect of death had at first made on me, and which were since increased
by his instructions; and the pious gentleman was exceedingly concerned
on that account.
On the other hand, I was not so solicitous about it now, but I concealed
my reasons for it from the minister, and to the last he did not know but
that I went with the utmost reluctance and affliction.
It was in the month of February that I was, with thirteen other convicts,
delivered to a merchant that traded to Virginia, on board a ship riding,
in Deptford Reach. The officer of the prison delivered us on board, and
the master of the vessel gave a discharge for us.
We were for that night clapped under hatches, and kept so close that
I thought I should have been suffocated for want of air; and the next
morning the ship weighed, and fell down the river to a place called Bugby's
Hole, which was done, as they told us, by the agreement of the merchant,
that all opportunity of escape should be taken from us. However, when
the ship came thither and cast anchor, we were permitted to come upon
the deck, but not upon the quarter-deck, that being kept particularly for
the captain and for passengers.
When, by the noise of the men over my head and the motion of the
ship, I perceived they were under sail, I was at first greatly surprised,
fearing we should go away, and that our friends would not be admitted
to see us ; but I was easy soon after, when I found they had come to an
anchor, and that we had notice given by some of the men that the next
morning we should have the liberty to come upon deck, and to have our
friends come to see us.
All that night I lay upon the hard deck as the other prisoners did, but
we had afterwards little cabins allowed for such as had any bedding to
lay in them, and room to stow any box or trunk for clothes, and linen if
we had it (which might well be put in), for some of them had neither
shirt or shift, linen or woollen, but what was on their backs, or one
farthing of money to help themselves ; yet I did not find but they fared well
enough in the ship, especially the women, who got money of the seamen
for washing their clothes, &c., sufficient to purchase anything they wanted.
When the next morning we had the liberty to come upon deck, I asked
one of the officers whether I might not be allowed to stod a letter on
shore to let my friends know where we lay, and to get some necessary
things sent to me. This was the boatswain, a very civil, courteous man,
who told me I should have any liberty that I desired, that he could allow
me with safety. I told him I desired no other; and he answered, the
ship's boat would go up to London next tide, and he would order my letter
to be carried.
Accordingly, when the boat went off, the boatswain came and told me
the boat was going off, that he went in it himself, and if my letter was
ready, he would take care of it. I had prepared pen, ink, and paper be
forehand, and had gotten a letter ready directed to my governess, and
enclosed another to my fellow-prisoner, which, however, I did not let her
know was my husband, not to the last. In that to my governess, I let
her know where the ship lay, and pressed her to send me what things she
had got ready for me for my voyage.
1 70 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
When I gave the boatswain the letter, I gave him a shilling with it,
which I told him was for the charge of a porter, which I had entreated
him to send with the letter as soon as he came on shore, that if possible
I might have an answer brought back by the same hand, that I might
know what was become of my things; 'For, sir', says I, 'if the ship
should go away before I have them, I am undone.'
I took care, when I gave him the shilling, to let him see I had a little
better furniture about me than the ordinary prisoners ; that I had a purse,
and in it a pretty deal of money; and I found that the very sight of it
immediately furnished me with very different treatment from what I should
otherwise have met with ; for though he was courteous indeed before, in
a kind of natural compassion to me, as a woman in distress, yet he was
more than ordinarily so afterwards, and procured me to be better treated
in the ship than, I say, I might otherwise have been; as shall appear in
its place,
He very honestly delivered my letter to my governess's own hands, and
brought me back her answer; and when he gave it me, gave me the
shilling again. 'There', says he, 'there's your shilling again too, for I
delivered the letter myself.' I could not tell what to say, I was surprised
at the thing; but after some pause I said, 'Sir, you are too kind; it had
been but reasonable that you had paid yourself coachhire then.'
'No, no', says he, 'I am overpaid. What is that gentlewoman? Is she
your sister?'
'No, sir', said I, 'she is no relation to me, but she is a dear friend, and
all the friends I have in the world.' ' Well ', says he, ' there are few such
friends. Why, she cries after you like a child.' 'Ay', says I again, 'she
would give a hundred pounds, I believe, to deliver me from this dreadful
condition.'
'Would she so?' says he. 'For half the money I believe I could put
you in a way how to deliver yourself.' But this he spoke softly that nobody
could hear.
'Alas! sir', said I, 'but then that must be such a deliverance as, if I
should be taken again, would cost me my life.' 'Nay', said he, 'if you
were once out of the ship, you must look to yourself afterwards; that I
can say nothing to.' So we dropped the discourse for that time.
In the meantime, my governess, faithful to the last moment, conveyed
my letter to the prison to my husband, and got an answer to it, and the
next day came down herself, bringing me, in the first place, a sea-bed, as
they call it, and all its ordinary furniture. She brought me also a sea-
chest — that is, a chest, such as are made for seamen, with all the con
veniences in it, and filled with everything almost that I could want; and
in one of the corners of the chest, where there was a private drawer, was
my bank of money — that is to say, so much of it as I had resolved to
carry with me; for I ordered part of my stock to be left behind, to be
sent afterwards in such goods as I should want when I came to settle;
for money in that country is not of much use, where all things are bought
for tobacco; much more is it a great loss to carry in from hence.
But my case was particular; it was by no means proper for me to go
without money or goods, and for a poor convict that was to be sold as
soon as I came on shore, to carry a cargo of goods would be to have
notice taken of it, and perhaps to have them seized ; so I took part of my
stock with me thus, and left the rest with my governess.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 171
My governess brought me a great many other things, but it was not proper
for me to appear too well, at least till I knew what kind of a captain we
should have. When she came into the ship, I thought she would have
died indeed; her heart sank at the sight of me, and at the thoughts of
parting with me in that condition; and she cried so intolerably, I could
not for a long time have any talk with her.
I took that time to read my fellow-prisoner's letter, which greatly per
plexed me. He told me it would be impossible for him to be discharged
time enough for going in the same ship, and which was more than all, he
began to question whether they would give him leave to go in what ship
he pleased, though he did voluntarily transport himself; but that they would
see him put on board such a ship as they should direct, and that he would
be charged upon the captain as other convict prisoners were ; so that he
began to be in despair of seeing me till he came to Virginia, which made
him almost desperate; seeing that, on the other hand, if I should not be
there, if any accident of the sea, or of mortality, should take me away, he
uhould be the most undone creature in the world.
This was very perplexing, and I knew not what course to take. I told
my governess the story of the boatswain, and she was mighty eager with
me to treat with him; but I had no mind to it, till I heard whether my
husband, or fellow-prisoner, so she called him, could be at liberty to go
with me or no. At last I was forced to let her into the whole matter,
except only that of his being my husband. I told her that I had made a
positive agreement with him to go, if he could get the liberty of going in
the same ship, and I found he had money.
Then I told her what I proposed to do when we came there, how we
could plant, settle, and, in short, grow rich without any more adventures ;
and, as a great secret, I told her we were to marry as soon as he came
on board.
She soon agreed cheerfully to my going when she heard this, and she
made it her business from that time to get him delivered in time, so that
he might go in the same ship with me, which at last was brought to pass,
though with great difficulty, and not without all the forms of a transported
convict, which he really was not, for he had not been tried, and which
was a great mortification to him. As our fate was now determined, and
we were both on board, actually bound to Virginia, in the despicable
quality of transported convicts, destined to be sold for slaves, I for five
years, and he under bonds and security not to return to England any more,
as long as he lived, he was very much dejected and cast down; the
mortification of being brought on board as he was, like a prisoner, piqued
him very much, since it was first told him he should transport himself,
so that he might go as a gentleman at liberty. It is true he was not
ordered to be sold when he came there as we were, and for that reason
he was obliged to pay for his passage to the captain, which we were not;
as to the rest, he was as much at a loss as a child what to do with
himself, but by directions.
However, I lay in an uncertain condition full three weeks, not knowing
whether I should have my husband with me or no, and therefore not
resolved how or in what manner to receive the honest boatswain's proposal,
which indeed he thought a little strange.
At the end of this time, behold my husband came on board. He looked
with a dejected, angry countenance; his great heart was swelled with rage
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
and disdain, to be dragged along with three keepers of Newgate, and put
on board like a convict, when he had not so much as been brought to a
trial. He made loud complaints of it by his friends, for it seems he had
some interest; but they got some check in their application, and were told
he had had favour enough, and that they had received such an account of
him, since the last grant of his transportation, that he ought to think
himself very well treated that he was not prosecuted anew. This answer
quieted him, for he knew too much what might have happened, and what
he had room to expect; and now he saw the goodness of that advice to
him, which prevailed with him to accept of the offer of transportation.
And after his chagrin at these hell-hounds, as he called them, was a little
over, he looked more composed, began to be cheerful, and as I was telling
him how glad I was to have him once more out of their hands, he took
me in his arms, and acknowledged with great tenderness that I had given
him the best advice possible. ' My dear ', says he, ' thou hast twice saveft
my life ; from henceforward it shall be employed for you, and I'll always
take your advice.'
Our first business was to compare our stock. He was very honest to
me, and told me his stock was pretty good when he came into the prison,
but that living there as he did like a gentleman, and, which was much
more, the making of friends and soliciting his case, had been very expen
sive ; and, in a word, all his stock left was £108, which he had about
him in gold.
I gave him an account of my stock as faithfully, that is to say, what I
had taken with me; for I was resolved, whatever should happen, to keep
what I had left in reserve; that in case I should die, what I had was
enough to give him, and what was left in my governess's hands would be
her own, which she had well deserved of me indeed.
My stock which I had with me was £246 some odd shillings ; so that
we had £354 between us, but a worse gotten estate was never put together
to begin the world with.
Our greatest misfortune as to our stock was that it was in money, an
unprofitable cargo to be carried to the plantations. I believe his was really
all he had left in the world, as he told me it was; but I, who had between
£700 and £800 in bank when this disaster befell me, and who had one of
the faithfullest friends in the world to manage it for me, considering she
was a woman of no principles, had still £300 left in her hand, which I
had reserved, as above ; besides, I had some very valuable things with me,
as particularly two gold watches, some small pieces of plate, and some
rings — all stolen goods. With this fortune, and in the sixty-first year of
my age» I launched out into a new world, as I may call it, in the condition
only of a poor convict, ordered to be transported in respite from the gal
lows. My clothes were poor and mean, but not ragged or dirty, and none
knew in the whole ship that I had anything of value about me.
However, as I had a great many very good clothes and linen in abun
dance, which I had ordered to be packed up in two great boxes, I had
them shipped on board, not as my goods, but as consigned to my real
name in Virginia; and had the bills of loading in my pocket; and in these
boxes was my plate and watches, and everything of value, except my money,
which I kept by itself in a private drawer in my chest, and which could
not be found, or opened, if found, without spliting the chest to pieces.
The ship began now to fill; several passengers came on board, who were
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1/3
embarked on no criminal account, and these had accommodations assigned
them in the great cabin and other parts of the ship, whereas we, as con
victs, were thrust down below, I know not where. But when my husband
came on board, I spoke to the boatswain, who had so early given me hints
of his friendship. I told him he had befriended me in many things, and
I had not made any suitable return to him, and with that I put a guinea
into his hand. I told him that my husband was now come on board ; that
though we were under the present misfortunes, yet we had been persons
of a different character from the wretched crew that we came with, and
desired to know whether the captain might not be moved to admit us to
some conveniences in the ship, for which we would make him what satis
faction he pleased, and that we would gratify him for his pains in procuring
this for us. He took the guinea, as I could see, with great satisfaction,
and assured me of his assistance.
Then he told us he did not doubt but that the captain, who was one
of the best-humoured gentlemen in the world, would be easily brought to
accommodate us, as well as we could desire, and, to make me easy, told
me he would go up the next tide on purpose to speak to him about it.
The next morning happening to sleep a little longer than ordinary, when
I got up and began to look abroad, I saw the boatswain among the men
in his ordinary business. I was a little melancholy at seeing him there,
and going forward to speak to him, he saw me, and came towards me,
but, not giving him time to speak first, I said, smiling, 'I doubt, sir, you
have forgot us, for I see you are very busy.' He returned presently, ' Come
along with me, and you shall see.' So he took me into the great cabin,
and there sat a good sort of a gentlemanly man writing, and a great many
papers before him.
' Here ', says the boatswain to him that was a-writing, ' is the gentlewoman
that the captain spoke to you of.' And turning to me, he said, 'I have
been so far from forgetting your business, that I have been up at the
captain's house, and have represented faithfully what you said of your
being furnished with conveniences for yourself and your husband ; and the
captain has sent this gentleman, who is mate of the ship, down on purpose
to show you everything, and to accommodate you to your content, and bid
me assure you that you shall not be treated like what you were expected
to be, but with the same respect as other passengers are treated.'
The mate then spoke to me, and, not giving me time to thank the
boatswain for his kindness, confirmed what the boatswain had said, and
added that it was the captain's delight to show himself kind and charitable,
especially to those that were under any misfortunes; and with that he
showed me several cabins built up, some in the great cabin, and some
partitioned off, out of the steerage, but opening into the great cabin, on
purpose for passengers, and gave me leave to choose where I would. I
chose a cabin in the steerage, in which were very good conveniences to
set our chest and boxes, and a table to eat on.
The mate then told me that the boatswain had given so good a character
of me and of my husband, that he had orders to tell me we should eat
with him, if we thought fit, during the whole voyage, on the common terms
of passengers? that we might lay in some fresh provisions if we pleased;
or if not, he should lay in his usual store, and that we should have share
with him. This was very reviving news to me, after so many hardships
and afflictions. I thanked him, and told him the captain should make his
174 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
own terms with us, and asked him leave to go and tell my husband of it,
who was not very well, and was not yet out of his cabin. Accordingly
I went, and my husband, whose spirits were still so much sunk with the
indignity (as he understood it) offered him, that he was scarce yet himself,
was so revived with the account I gave him of the reception we were like
to have in the ship, that he was quite another man, and new vigour and
courage appeared in his very countenance. So true is it, that the greatest
spirits, when overwhelmed by their afflictions, are subject to the greatest
dejections.
After some little pause to recover himself, my husband came up with
me, and gave the mate thanks for the kindness which he had expressed
to us, and sent suitable acknowledgments by him to the captain, offering
to pay him by advance, whatever he demanded for our passage, and for
the conveniences he had helped us to. The mate told him that the captain
would be on board in the afternoon, and that he would leave all that to
him. Accordingly, in the afternoon, the captain came, and we found him
the same courteous, obliging man that the boatswain had represented him;
and he was so well pleased with my husband's conversation, that, in short,
he would not let us keep the cabin we had chosen, but gave us one that,
as I said before, opened into the great cabin.
Nor were his conditions exorbitant, or the man craving and eager to
make a prey of us, but for fifteen guineas we had our whole passage and
provisions, ate at the captain's table, and were very handsomely entertained.
The captain lay himself in the other part of the great cabin, having let
his roundhouse, as they call it, to a rich planter, who went over with his
wife and three children, who ate by themselves. He had some other
ordinary passengers, who quartered in the steerage; and as for our old
fraternity, they were kept under the hatches, and came very little on
the deck.
I could not refrain acquainting my governess with what had happened;
it was but just that she, who was really concerned for me, should have
part in my good fortune. Besides, I wanted her assistance to supply me
with several necessaries, which before I was shy of letting anybody see
me have ; but now I had a cabin, and room to set things in, I ordered
abundance of good things for our comfort in the voyage ; as brandy, sugar
lemons, &c., to make punch, and treat our benefactor, the captain; and
abundance of things for eating and drinking ; also a larger bed, and bedding
proportioned to it; so that, in a word, we resolved to want for nothing.
All this while I had provided nothing for our assistance when we should
come to the place, and begin to call ourselves planters ; and I was far
from being ignorant of what was needful on that occasion; particularly
all sorts of tools for the planter's work, and for building; and all kinds
of house furniture, which, if to be bought in the country, must necessarily
cost double the price.
I discoursed that point with my governess, and she went and waited
upon the captain, and told him that she hoped ways might be found out
for her two unfortunate cousins, as she called us, to obtain our freedom
when we came into the country, and so entered into a discourse with him
about the means and terms also, of which I shall say more in its place;
and, after thus sounding the captain, she let him know, though we were
unhappy in the circumstance that occasioned our going, yet that we were
not unfurnished to set ourselves to work in the country, and were resolved
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 175
to settle and live there as planters. The captain readily offered his assistance,
told her the method of entering upon such business, and how easy, nay,
how certain it was for industrious people to recover their fortunes in such
a manner. ' Madam ', says he, ' 'tis no reproach to any man in that country
to have been sent over in worse circumstances than I perceive your cousins
are in, provided they do but apply with good judgment to the business
of the place when they come there.'
She then inquired of him what things it was necessary we should carry
over with us, and he, like a knowing man, told her thus: 'Madam, your
cousins first must procure somebody to buy them as servants, in conformity
to the conditions of their transportation, and then, in the name of that
person, they may go about what they will ; they may either purchase some
plantations already begun, or they may purchase land of the government
of the country, and begin where they please, and both will be done reason
ably.' She bespoke his favour in the first article, which he promised to
her to take upon himself, and indeed faithfully performed it. And as to
the rest, he promised to recommend us to such as should give us the best
advice, and not to impose upon us, which was as much as could be desired.
She then asked him if it would not be necessary to furnish us with a
stock of tools and materials for the business of planting; and he said,
'Yes, by all means.' Then she begged his assistance in that, and told
him she would furnish us with everything that was convenient, whatever
it cost her. He accordingly gave her a list of things necessary for a planter,
which, by his account, came to about fourscore or a hundred pounds.
And, in short, she went about as dexterously to buy them as if she had
been an old Virginia merchant; only that she bought, by my direction,
above twice as much of everything as he had given her a list of.
These she put on board in her own name, took his bills of loading for
them, and endorsed those bills of loading to my husband, insuring the
cargo afterwards in her own name ; so that we were provided for all events
and for all disasters.
I should have told you that my husband gave her all his own stock of
£108, which, as I have said, he had about him in gold, to lay out thus,
and I gave her a good sum besides ; so that I did not break into the stock
which I had left in her hands at all, but after all we had near £200 in
money, which was more than enough for our purpose.
In this condition, very cheerful, and indeed joyful at being so happily
accommodated, we set sail from Bugby's Hole to Gravesend, where the ship
lay about ten days more, and where the captain came on board for good
and all. Here the captain offered us a civility which, indeed, we had no
reason to expect, namely, to let us go on shore and refresh ourselves, upon
giving our words that we would not go from him, and that we would
return peaceably on board again. This was such an evidence of his con
fidence in us that it overcame my husband, who, in a mere principle of
gratitude, told him, as he could not in any capacity make a suitable return
for such a favour, so he couM not think of accepting it, nor could he be
easy that the captain should run such a risk. After some mutual civilities,
I gave my husband a purse, in which was eighty guineas, and he put it
into the captain's hand. ' There, captain ', says he, ' there's part of a pledge
for our fidelity, if we deal dishonestly with you on any account, 'tis your
own.' And on this we went on shore.
Indeed, the captain had assurance enough of our resolutions to go, for
176 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
that, having made such provision to settle there, it did not seem rational
that we would choose to remain here at the peril of life, for such it must
have been. In a word, we went all on shore with the captain, and supped
together in Gravesend, where we were very merry, stayed all night, lay
at the house where we supped, and came all very honestly on board again
with him in the morning. Here we bought ten dozen bottles of good
beer, some wine, some fowls, and such things as we thought might be
acceptable on board.
My governess was with us all this while, and went round with us into
the Downs, as did also the captain's wife, with whom she went back. I
was never so sorrowful at parting with my own mother as I was at parting
with her, and I never saw her more. We had a fair easterly wind the third
day after we came to the Downs, and we sailed from thence the loth of
April. Nor did we touch any more at any place, till being driven on the
coast of Ireland by a very hard gale of wind, the ship came to an anchor
in a little bay, near a river whose name I remember not, but they said the
river came down from Limerick, and that it was the largest river in Ireland.
Here, being detained by bad weather for some time, the captain, who
continued the same kind, good-humoured man as at first, took us two on
shore with him again. He did it now in kindness to my husband indeed,
who bore the sea very ill, especially when it blew so hard. Here we
bought again store of fresh provisions, beef, pork, mutton, and fowls, and
the captain stayed to pickle up five or six barrels of beef, to lengthen out
the ship's store. We were here not above five days, when the weather
turning mild, and a fair wind, we set sail again, and in two-and-forty days
came safe to the coast of Virginia.
When we drew near to the shore the captain called me to him, and
told me that he found by my discourse I had some relations in the place,
and that I had been there before, and so he supposed I understood the
custom in their disposing the convict prisoners when they arrived. told
him I did not; and that, as to what relations I had in the place, he might
be sure I would make myself known to none of them while in the cir
cumstances of a prisoner, and that, as to the rest, we left ourselves entirely
to him to assist us, as he was pleased to promise us he would do. He
told me I must get somebody in the place to come and buy me as a
servant, and who must answer for me to the governor of the country if
he demanded me. I told him we should do as he should direct; so he
brought a planter to treat with him, as it were, for the purchase of me
for a servant, my husband not being ordered to be sold, and there I was
formally sold to him, and went ashore with him. The captain went with
us and carried us to a certain house, whether it was to be called a tavern
or not I know not, but we had a bowl of punch there made of rum, &c.,
and were very merry. After some time, the planter gave us a certificate
of discharge, and an acknowledgment of having served him faithfully, and
I was free from him the next morning to go whither I would.
For this piece of service the captain demanded of me six thousand
weight of tobacco, which he said he was accountable for to his freighter,
and which we immediately bought for him, and made him a present of
twenty guineas besides, with which he was abundantly satisfied.
It is not proper to enter here into the particulars of what part of the
colony of Virginia we settled in, for divers reasons; it may suffice to
mention that we went into the great river of Potomac, the ship being
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1/7
bound thither; and there we intended to have settled at first, though
afterwards we altered our minds.
The first thing I did of moment after having gotten all our goods on
shore, and placed them in a storehouse, which, with a lodging, we hired
at the small place or village where we landed; I say, the first thing was
to inquire after my mother, and after my brother (that fatal person whom
I married as a husband, as I have related at large). A little inquiry
furnished me with information that Mrs , that is my mother, was
dead; that my brother, or husband, was alive, and, which was worse, I
found he was removed from the plantation where I lived, and lived with
one of his sons in a plantation just by the place where we landed, and
had hired a warehouse.
I was a little surprised at first, but as I ventured to satisfy myself that
he could not know me, I was not only perfectly easy, but had a great
mind to see him, if it was possible, without his seeing me. In order to
do that, I found out by inquiry the plantation where he lived, and with a
woman of the place whom I got to help me, like what we call a char
woman, I rambled about towards the place as if I had only a mind to
see the country and look about me. At last I came so near that I saw
the dwelling-house. I asked the woman whose plantation that was; she
said it belonged to such a man, and looking out a little to our right
hands, 'There', says she, 'is the gentleman that owns the plantatation,
and his father with him.' 'What are their Christian names?' said I. 'I
know not', said she, 'what the old gentleman's name is, but his son's
name is Humphry; and I believe', says she, 'the father's is so too.' You
may guess, if you can, what a confused mixture of joy and fright possessed
my thoughts upon this occasion, for I immediately knew that this was
nobody else but my own son, by that father she showed me, who was my
own brother. I had no mask, but I ruffled my hoods so about my face
that I depended upon it that after above twenty years' absence, and withal
not expecting anything of me in that part of the world, he would not be
able to know me. But I need not have used all that caution, for he was
grown dim-sighted by some distemper which had fallen upon his eyes, and
could but just see well enough to walk about, and not run against a tree
or into a ditch. As they drew near to us I said, ' Does he know you, Mrs
Owen?' (so they called the woman,) 'Yes', she said, 'if he hears me
speak, he will know me; but he can't see well enough to know me or
anybody else'; and so she told me the story of his sight, as I have related.
This made me secure, and so I threw open my hoods again, and let them
pass by me. It was a wretched thing for a mother thus to see her own son,
a handsome, comely young gentleman in flourishing circumstances, and
durst not make herself known to him, and durst not take any notice of
him. Let any mother of children that reads this consider it, and but think
with what anguish of mind I restrained myself; what yearnings of soul I
had in me to embrace him, and weep over him; and how I thought all
my entrails turned within me, that iny very bowels moved, and I knew
not what to do, as I now know not how to express those agonies ! When
he went from me I stood gazing and trembling, and looking after him as
long as I could see him; then sitting down on the grass, just at a place
I had marked, I made as if I lay down to rest me, but turned from her,
and lying on mv face wept, and kissed the ground that he had set his
fool ou.
12
178 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
I could not conceal my disorder so much from the woman, but that she
perceived it, and thought I was not well, which I was obliged to pretend
was true ; upon which she pressed me to rise, the ground being damp and
dangerous, which I did, and walked away.
As I was going back again, and still talking of this gentleman and his
son, a new occasion of melancholy offered itself, thus. The woman began,
as if she would tell me a story to divert me; 'There goes', says she, 'a
very odd tale among the neighbours where this gentleman formerly lived.'
' What was that ? ' said I. ' Why ', says she, ' that old gentleman going to
England, when he was a young man, fell in love with a young lady there,
one of the finest women that ever was seen here, and married her,
and brought her over hither to his mother, who was then living. He
lived here several years with her', continued she, 'and had several
children by her, of which the young gentleman that was with him
now was one; but, after some time, the old gentlewoman, his mother,
talking to her of something relating to herself and of her circumstances
in England, which were bad enough, the daughter-inlaw began to be very
much surprised and uneasy ; and, in short, in examining farther into things,
it appeared past all contradiction that she, the old gentlewoman, was her
own mother, and that consequently that son was her own brother, which
struck the family with horror, and put them into such confusion, that it
had almost ruined them all. The young woman would not live with him,
he for a time went distracted, and at last the young woman went away
for England, and has never been heard of since.'
It is easy to believe that I was strangely affected with this story, but
'tis impossible to describe the nature of my disturbance. I seemed astonished
at the story, and asked her a thousand questions about the particulars,
which I found she was thoroughly acquainted with. At last I began to
inquire into the circumstances of the family, how the old gentlewoman, I
mean my mother, died, and how she left what she had; for my mother
had promised me, very solemnly, that when she died she would do something
for me, and leave it so, as that, if I was living, I should, one way or
other, come at it, without its being in the power of her son, my brother
and husband, to prevent it. She told me she did not know exactly how
it was ordered, but she bad been told that my mother had left a sum of
money, and had tied her plantation for the payment of it, to be made good
to the daughter, if ever she could be heard of, either in England or else
where; and that the trust was left with this son, whom we saw with
his father.
This was news too good for me to make light of, and you may be sure
filled my heart with a thousand thoughts, what course I should take, and
in what manner I should make myself known, or whether I should ever
make myself known or no.
Here was a perplexity that I had not indeed skill to manage myself in,
neither knew I what course to take, It lay heavy upon my mind night
and day. I could neither sleep or converse, so that my husband perceived
it, wondered what ailed me, and strove to divert me, but it was all to no
purpose. He pressed me to tell him what it was troubled me, but I put
it off, till at last importuning me continually, I was forced to form a story
which yet had a plain truth to lay it upon too. I told him I was troubled
because I found we must shift our quarters and alter our scheme of settling,
for that I found I should be known if I stayed in that part of the country j
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 179
for that my mother being dead, several of my relations were come into
that part where we then was, and that I must either discover myself to
them, which in our present circumstances was not proper on many accounts,
or remove; and which to do I knew not, *nd that this it was that made
me melancholy.
He joined with me in this, that it was by no means proper for me to
make myself known to anybody in the circumstances in which we then
were; and therefore he told me he would be willing to remove to any
part of the country, or even to any other country if I thought fit But
now I had another difficulty, which was, that if I removed to another
colony, I put myself out of the way of ever making a due search after
those things which my mother had left; again, I could never so much as
think of breaking the secret of my former marriage to my new husband ;
it was not a story would bear telling, nor could I tell what might be the
consequences of it: it was impossible, too, without making it public all
over the country, as well who I was, as what I now was also.
This perplexity continued a great while, and made my spouse very
uneasy ; for he thought I was not open with him, and did not let him into
every part of my grievance; and he would often say he wondered what
he had done, that I would not trust him, whatever it was, especially if it
was grievous and afflicting. The truth is, he ought to have been trusted
with everything, for no man could deserve better of a wife; but this was
a thing I knew not how to open to him, and yet having nobody to disclose
any part of it to, the burthen was too heavy for my mind; for, let them
say what they please of our sex not being able to keep a secret, my life
is a plain conviction to me of the contrary ; but be it our sex, or the men's
sex, a secret of moment should always have a confidant, a bosom friend
to whom we may communicate the joy of it, or the grief of it, be it which
it will, or it will be a double weight upon the spirits, and perhaps become
even insupportable in itself; and this I appeal to human testimony for th«
truth of.
And this is the cause why many times men as well as women, and men
of the greatest and best qualities other ways, yet have found themselves
weak in this part, and have not been able to bear the weight of a secret
joy or of a secret sorrow, but have been obliged to disclose it, even for
the mere giving vent to themselves, and to unbend the mind, oppressed
with the weights which attended it. Nor was this any token of folly at
all, but a natural consequence of the thing; and such people, had they
struggled longer with the oppression, would certainly have told it in their
sleep, and disclosed the secret, let it have been of what fatal nature soever,
without regard to the person to whom it might be exposed. This necessity
of nature is a thing which works sometimes with such vchemency in the
minds of those who are guilty of any atrocious villainy, such as a secret
murder in particular, that they have been obliged to discover it, though
the consequence has been their own destruction. Now, though it may be
true that the divine justice ought to have the glory of all those discoveries
and confessions, yet 'tis as certain that Providence, which ordinarily works
by the hands of nature, makes use here of the same natural causes to
produce those extraordinary effects.
I could give several remarkable instances of this in my long conversation
with crime and with criminals. I knew one fellow that, while I was a
prisoner in Newgate, was one of those they called then night-fliers. I
1 80 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
know not what word they may have understood it by since, but he was
one who by connivance was admitted to go abroad every evening, when
he played his pranks, and furnished those honest people they call thief-
catchers with business to find out the next day, and restore for a reward
what they had stolen the evening before. This fellow was as sure to tell
in his sleep all that he had done, and every step he had taken, what he
had stolen, and where, as sure as if he had engaged to tell it waking, and
therefore he was obliged, after he had been out, to lock himself up, or be
locked up by some of the keepers that had him in fee, that nobody should
hear him ; but, on the other hand, if he had told all the particulars, and
given a full account of his rambles, and success to any comrade, any brother
thief, or to his employers, as I may justly call them, then all was well,
and he slept as quietly as other people.
As the ^publishing this account of my life is for the sake of the just
moral of every part of it, and for instruction, caution, warning, and improve
ment to every reader, so this will not pass, I hope, for an unnecessary
digression, concerning some people being obliged to disclose the greatest
secrets either of their own or other people's affairs.
Under the oppression of this weight, I laboured in the case I have been
naming; and the only relief I found for it was to let my husband into so
much of it as I thought would convince him of the neccessity there was
for us to think of settling in some other part of the world; and the next
consideration before us was, which part of the English settlements we
should go to. My husband was a perfect stranger to the country, and had
not yet so much as a geographical knowledge of the situation of the several
places; and I, that, till I wrote this, did not know what the word geo
graphical signified, had only a general knowledge from long conversation
with people that came from or went to several places; but this I knew,
that Maryland, Pennsylvania, East and West Jersey, New York, and New
England lay all north of Virginia, and that they were consequently, all
colder climates, to which, for that very reason, I had an aversion. For
that as I naturally loved warm weather, so now I grew into years, I had
a stronger inclination to shun a cold climate. I therefore considered of
going to Carolina, which is the most southern colony of the English on
the continent ; and hither I proposed to go, the rather because I might
with ease come from thence at any time, when it might be proper to
inquire after my mother's effects, and to demand them.
With this resolution, I proposed to my husband our going away from
where we was, and carrying our effects with us to Carolina, where we
resolved to settle; for my husband readily agreed to the first part, viz.,
it was not at all proper to stay where we was, since I had assured him
we should be known there; and the rest I concealed from him.
But now I found a new difficulty upon me. The main affair grew heavy
upon my mind still, and I could not think of going out of the country
without somehow or other making inquiry into the grand affair of what
my mother had done for me ; nor could I with any patience bear the thought
of going away, and not make myself known to my old husband (brother),
or to my child, his son; only I would fain have had it done without my new
husband having any knowledge of it, or they having any knowledge of him.
I cast about innumerable ways in my thoughts how this might be done.
I would gladly have sent my husband away to Carolina, and have come
after myself, but this was impracticable; he would not stir without me,
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 1 8 1
being himself unacquainted with the country, and with the methods of
settling anywhere. Then I thought we would both go first, and that when
we were settled I should come back to Virginia; but even then I knew
he would never part with me, and be left there alone. The case was plain ;
he was bred a genleman, and was not only unacquainted; but indolent,
and when we did settle, would much rather go into the woods with his
gun, which they call there hunting, and which is the ordinary work of the
Indians; I say, he would much rather do that than attend to the natural
business of the plantation.
These were, therefore, difficulties unsurmoun table, and such as I knew
not what to do in. I had such strong impressions on my mind about
discovering myself to my old husband, that I could not withstand them;
and the rather, because it ran in my thoughts, that if I did not while he
lived, I might in vain endeavour to convince my son afterward that I was
really the same person, and that I was his mother, and so might both
lose the assistance and comfort of the relation, and lose whatever it was
my mother had left me; and yet, on the other hand, I could never think
it proper to discover the circumstances I was in, as well relating to the
having a husband with me as to my being brought over as a criminal;
on both which accounts it wat absolutely necessary to me to remove
from the place where I was, and come again to him, as from another
place and in another figure.
Upon those considerations, I went on with telling my husband the
absolute necessity there was of our not settling in Potomac River, that
we should presently be made public there; whereas if we went to any
other place in the world, we could come in with as much reputation as any
family that came to plant; that, as it was always agreeable to the inhabi
tants to have families come among them to plant, who brought substance with
them, so we should be sure of agreeable reception, and without any
possibility of a discovery of our circumstances.
I told him too, that as I had several relations in the place where we
was, and that I durst not now let myself be known to them, because they
would soon come to know the occasion of my coming over, which would
be to expose myself to the last degree; so I had reason to believe that
my mother, who died here, had left me something, and perhaps consider
able, which it might be very well worth my while to inquire after; but
that this too could not be done without exposing us publicly, unless we
went from hence; and then, wherever we settled, I might come, as it were,
to visit and to see my brother and nephews, make myself known, inquire
after what was my due, be received with respect, and, at the same time,
have justice done me; whereas, if I did it now, I could expect nothing
but with trouble, such as exacting it by force, receiving it with curses
and reluctance, and with all kinds of affronts, which he would not perhaps
bear to see; that in case of being obliged to legal proofs of being really
her daughter, I might be at a loss, be obliged to have recourse to England,
and, it may be, to fail at last, and so lose it. With these arguments, and
having thus acquainted my husband with the whole secret, so far as was
needful to him, we resolved to go and seek a settlement in some other
colony, and at first Carolina was the place pitched upon.
In order to this we began to make inquiry for vessels going to Carolina,
and in a very little while got information, that on the other side the bay,
as they call it, namely, in Maryland, there was a ship which came from
1 82 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
Carolina, loaden with rice and other goods, and was going back again
thither. On this news we hired a sloop to take in our goods, and taking,
as it were, a final farewell of Potomac River, we went with all our cargo
over to Maryland.
This was a long and unpleasant voyage, and my spouse said it was
worse to him than all the voyage from England, because the weather was
bad, the water rough, and the vessel small and inconvenient. In the next
place, we were full a hundred miles up Potomac River, in a part they
call Westmorland County; and, as that river is by far the greatest in
Virginia, and I have heard say it is the greatest river in the world that
falls into another river, and not directly into the sea, so we had base
weather in it, and were frequently in great danger; for though they call
it but a river, 'tis frequently so broad, that when we were in the middle
we could not see land on either side for many leagues together. Then
we had the great bay of Chesapeake to cross, which is, where the river
Potomac falls into it, near thirty miles broad, so that our voyage was full
two hundred miles, in a poor, sorry sloop, with all our treasure, and if
any accident had happened to us we might at last have been very miser
able; supposing we had lost our goods and saved our lives only, and
had then been left naked and destitute, and in a wild, strange place, not
having one friend or acquaintance in all that part of the world. The
very thoughts of it gives me some h&rror, even since the danger is past.
Well, we came to the place in five days' sailing; I think they call it
Philip's Point; and behold, when we came thither, the ship bound to
Carolina was loaded and gone away but three days before. This was a
disappointment ; but, however, I, that was to be discouraged with nothing,
told my husband that since we could not get passage to Carolina, and
that the country we was in was very fertile and good, we would see if we
could find out anything for our turn where we was, and that if he liked
things we would settle here.
We immediately went on shore, but found no conveniences just at that
place, either for our being on shore, or preserving our goods on shore,
but was directed by a very honest Quaker, whom we found there, to go
to a place about sixty miles east; that is to say, nearer the mouth of the
bay, where he said he lived, and where we should be accommodated,
either to plant or to wait for any other place to plant in that might be
more convenient ; and he invited us with so much kindness that we agreed
to go, and the Quaker himself went with us.
Here we bought us two servants, viz. an English woman-servant, just
come on shore from a ship of Liverpool, and a negro man servant, things
absolutely necessary for all people that pretended to settle in that country.
This honest Quaker was very helpful to us, and when we came to the
place that he proposed, found us out a convenient storehouse for our
goods, and lodging for ourselves and servants; and about two months or
thereabout, afterwards, by his direction, we took up a large piece of land
from the government of that country, in order to form our plantation, and
so we laid the thoughts of going to Carolina wholly aside, having been
very well received here, and accommodated with a convenient lodging till
we could prepare things, and have land enough cured, and materials pro
vided, for building us a house, all which we managed by the direction of
the Quaker; so that in one year's time we had near fifty acres of land
cleared, part of it enclosed, and some of it planted with tobacco, though
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 183
not much; besides, we had garden-ground, and corn sufficient to supply
our servants with roots and herbs and bread.
And now I persuaded my husband to let me go over the bay again, and
inquire after my friends. He was the willinger to consent to it now, because
he had business upon his hands sufficient to employ him, besides his gun
to divert him, which they call hunting there, and which he greatly delighted
in; and indeed we used to look at one another, sometimes with a great
deal of pleasure, reflecting how much better that was, not than Newgate
only, but than the most prosperous of our circumstances in the wicked
trade we had been both carrying on.
Our affair was now in a very good posture ; we purchased of the proprie
tors of the colony as much land for £35, paid in ready money, as would
make a sufficient plantation to us as long as we could either of us live;
and as for children, I was past anything of that kind.
But our good fortune did not end here. I went, as I have said, over
the bay, to the place where my brother, once a husband, lived ; but I did
not go to the same village where I was before, but went up another great
river, on the east side of the river Potomac, called Rappahannoc River,
and by this means came on the back of his plantation, which was large,
and by the help of a navigable creek, that ran into the Rappahannoc, I
came very near it.
I was now fully resolved to go up point-blank to my brother (husband),
and to tell him who I was; but not knowing what temper I might find
him in, or how much out of temper, rather, I might .make him by such a
rash visit, I resolved to write a letter to him first, to let him know who
I was, and that I was come not to give him any trouble upon the old
relation, which I hoped was entirely forgot, but that I applied to him as
a sister to a brother, desiring his assistance in the case of that provision
which our mother, at her decease, had left for my support, and which I
did not doubt but he would do me justice in, especially considering that
I was come thus far to look after it.
I said some very tender, kind things in the letter about his son, which
I told him he knew to be my own child, and that as I was guilty of
nothing in marrying him, any more than he was in marrying me, neither
of us having then known our being at all related to one another, so I
hoped he would allow me the most passionate desire of once seeing my
own and only child, and of showing something of the infirmities of a
mother in preserving a violent affection for him, who had never been able
to retain any thought of me one way or other.
I did believe that, having received this letter, he would immediately give
it to his son to read, his eyes being, I knew, so dim that he could not
see to read it; but it fell out better than so, for as his sight was dim,
so he had allowed his son to open all letters that came to his hand for
him, and the old gentleman being from home, or out of the way when
my messenger came, my letter came directly to my son's hand, and he
opened and read it.
He called the messenger in, after some little stay, and asked him where
the person was who gave him that letter. The messenger told him the
place, which was about seven miles off; so he bid him stay, and ordering
a horse to be got ready, and two servants, away he came to me with the
messenger. Let any one judge the consternation I was in when my mes
senger came back and told me the old gentleman was not at home, but
1 84 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
his son was come along with him, and was just coming up to me. I was
perfectly confounded, for I knew not whether it was peace or war, nor
could I tell how to behave; however, I had but a very few moments to
think, for my son was at the heels of the messenger, and, coming up into
my lodgings, asked the fellow at the door something. I suppose it was,
for I did not hear it, which was the gentlewoman that sent him ; for the
messenger said, 'There she is, sir'; at which he comes directly up to me,
kisses me, took me in his arms, embraced me with so much passion that
he could not speak, but I could feel his breast heave and throb like a
child, that cries, but sobs, and cannot cry it out.
I can neither express or describe the joy that touched my very soul
when I found, for it was easy to discover that part, that he came not as
a stranger, but as a son to a mother, and indeed a son who had never
before known what a mother of his own was; in short, we cried over one
another a considerable while, when at last he broke out first. 'My dear
mother', says he, 'are you still alive? I never expected to have seen your
face.' As for me, I could say nothing a great while.
After we had both recovered ourselves a little, and were able to talk,
he told me how things stood. He told me he had not showed my letter
to his father, or told him anything about it; that what his grandmother
left me was in his hands, and that he would do me justice to my full
satisfaction; that as to his father, he was old and infirm both in body and
mind; that he was very fretful and passionate, almost blind, and capable
of nothing; and he questioned whether he would know how to act in an
affair which was of so nice a nature as this; and that therefore he had
come himself, as well to satisfy himself in seeing me, which he could not
restrain himself from, as also to put it into my power to make a judgment,
after I had seen how things were, whether I would discover myself to his
father or no.
This was really so prudently and wisely managed, that I found my son
was a man of sense, and needed no direction from me. I told him I did
not wonder that his father was as he had described him, for that his head
was a little touched before I went away; and principally his disturbance
was because I could not be persuaded to live with him as my husband,
after I knew that he was my brother ; that as he knew better than I what
his father's present condition was, I should readily join with him in such
measures as he would direct; that I was indifferent as to seeing his father,
since I had seen him first, and he could not have told me better news
than to tell me that what his grandmother had left me was entrusted in
his hands, who, I doubted not, now he knew who I was, would, as he
said, do me justice. I inquired then, how long my mother had been dead,
and where she died, and told so many particulars of the family, that I left
him no room to doubt the truth of my being really and truly his mother.
My son then inquired where I was, and how I had disposed myself. I
told him I was on the Maryland side of the bay, at the plantation of a
particular friend, who came from England in the same ship with me ; that
as for that side of the bay where he was, I had no habitation. He told
me I should go home with him, and live with him, if I pleased, as long
as I lived; that as to his father, he knew nobody, and would never so
much as guess at me. I considered of that a little, and told him, that
though it was really no little concern to me to live at a distance from
him, yet I could not say it would be the most comfortable thing in the
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 185
world to me to live in the house with him, and to have that unhappy
object always before me, which had been such a blow to my peace before;
that, though I should be glad to have his company (my son), or to be as
near him as possible, yet I could not think of being in the house where
I should be also under constant restraint for fear of betraying myself in
my discourse, nor should I be able to refrain some expressions in my
conversing with him as my son, that might discover the whole affair, which
would by no means be convenient.
He acknowledged that I was right in all this. ' But then, dear mother ',
says he, 'you shall be as near me as you can.' So he took me with him
on horseback to a plantation, next to his own, and where I was as well
entertained as I could have been in his own. Having left me there, he
went away home, telling me he would talk of the main business the next
day ; and having first called me his aunt, and given a charge to the people,
who it seems were his tenants, to treat me with all possibie respect, about
two hours after he was gone, he sent me a maid-servant and a negro boy
to wait on me, and provisions ready dressed for my supper; and thus I
was as if I had been in a new world, and began almost to wish that I
had not brought my Lancashire husband from England at all.
However, that wish was not hearty neither, for I loved my Lancashire
husband entirely, as I had ever done from the beginning; and he merited
it as much as it was possible for a man to do; but that by the way.
The next morning my son came to visit me again, almost as soon as I
was up. After a little discourse, he first of all pulled out a deerskin bag,
and gave it me, with five-and-fifty Spanish pistoles in it, and told me that
was to supply my expenses from England, for though it was not his
business to inquire, yet he ought to think I did not bring a great deal of
money out with me, it not being usual to bring much money into that
country. Then he pulled out his grandmother's will, and read it over to
me, whereby it appeared that she left a plantation on York River to me,
with the stock of servants and cattle upon it, and had given it in trust
to this son of mine for my use, whenever he should hear of me, and to
my heirs, if I had any children, and in default of heirs, to whomsoever I
should by will dispose of it; but gave the income of it, till I should be
heard of, to my said son; and if I should not be living, then it was to
him, and his heirs.
This plantation, though remote from him, he said he did not let out,
but managed it by a head-clerk, as he did another that was his father's,
that lay hard by it, and went over himself three or four times a year to
look after it. I asked him what he thought the plantation might be worth.
He said, if I would let it out, he would give me about £60 a year for
it; but if I would live on it, then it would be worth much more, and he
believed would bring me in about £150 a year. But, seeing I was likely
either to settle on the other side the bay, or might perhaps have a mind
to go back to England, if I would let him be my steward he would manage
it for me, as he had done for himself, and that he believed he should be
able to send me as much tobacco from it as would yield me about £100
a year, sometimes more.
This was all strange news to me, and things I had not been used to;
and really my heart began to look up more seriously than I think it ever
did before, and to look with great thankfulness to the hand of Providence,
which had done such wonders for me, who had been myself the greatest
1 86 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
wonder of wickedness perhaps that had been suffered to live in the world.
And I must again observe, that not on this occasion only, but even on
all other occasions of thankfulness, my past wickedness and abominable
life never looked so monstrous to me, and I never so completely abhorred
it, and reproached myself with it, as when I had a sense upon me of
Providence doing good to me, while I had been making those vile returns
on my part.
But I leave the reader to improve these thoughts, as no doubt they
will see cause, and I go on to the fact. My son's tender carriage and
kind offers fetched tears from me, almost all the while he talked with me.
Indeed, I could scarce discourse with him but in the intervals of my
passion; however, at length I began, and expressing myself with wonder
at my being so happy to have the trust of what I had left, put into the
hands of my own child, I told him, that as to the inheritance of it, I
had no child but him in the world, and was now past having any if I
should marry, and therefore would desire him to get a writing drawn,
which I was ready to execute, by which I would, after me, give it wholly
to him and to his heirs. And in the meantime, smiling, I asked him
what made him continue a bachelor so long. His answer was kind and
ready, that Virginia did not yield any great plenty of wives, and that
since I talked of going back to England, I should send him a wife from London.
This was the substance of our first day's conversation, the pleasantest
day that ever passed over my head in my life, and which gave me the
truest satisfaction. He came every day after this, and spent great part of
his time with me, and carried me about to several of his friends' houses,
where I was entertained with great respect. Also I dined several times at
his own house, when he took care always to see his half-dead father so
out of the way that I never saw him, or he me. I made him one present,
and it was all I had of value' and that was one of the gold watches, of
which, I said, I had two in my chest, and this I happened to have with
me, and gave it him at his third visit. I told him I had nothing of any
value to bestow but that, and I desired he would now and then kiss it
for my sake. I did not, indeed, tell him that I stole it from a gentle
woman's side, at a meeting-house in London. That's by the way.
He stood a little while hesitating, as if doubtful whether to take it or
no. But I pressed it on him, and made him accept it, and it was not
much less worth than his leather pouch full of Spanish gold; no, though
it were to be reckoned as if at London, whereas it was worth twice as
much there. At length he took it, kissed it, told me the watch should
be a debt upon him that he would be paying as long as I lived.
A few days after, he brought the writings of gift and the scrivener
with him, and I signed them very freely, and delivered them to him with
a hundred kisses ; for sure nothing ever passed between a mother and a
tender, dutiful child with more affection. The next day he brings me an
obligation under his hand and seal, whereby he engaged himself to manage
the plantation for my account, and to remit the produce to my order wherever
I should be; and withal, obliged himself to make up the produce £,100 a
year to me. When he had done so, he told me that as I came to demand
before the crop was off, T had a right to the produce of the current year;
and so he paid £100 in Spanish pieces of eight, and desired me to give
him a receipt for it as in full for that year, ending at Christmas following;
this being about the latter end of August.
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS l8/
I stayed here above five weeks, and indeed had much ado to get away
then. Nay, he would have come over the bay with me, but I would by
no means allow it However, he would send me over in a sloop of his
own, which was built like a yacht, and served him as well for pleasure
as business. This I accepted of, and so, after the utmost expression both
of duty and affection, he let me come away, and I arrived safe in two
days at my friend's the Quaker's.
I brought over with me, for the use of our plantation, three horses,
with harness and saddles, some hogs, two cows, and a thousand other
things, the gift of the kindest and tenderest child that ever woman had.
I related to my husband all the particulars of this voyage, except that I
called my son my cousin ; and first, I told him that I had lost my watch,
which he seemed to take as a misfortune; but then I told him how kind
my cousin had been, that my mother had left me such a plantation, and
that he had preserved it for me, in hopes some time or other he should
hear from me ; then I told him that I had left it to his management, that
he would render me a faithful account of its produce; and then I pulled
him out the £100 in silver, as the first year's produce; and then pulling
out the deerskin purse with the pistoles, ' And here, my dear ', says I, ' is
the gold watch/ Says my husband, 'So is Heaven's goodness sure to
work the same effects, in all sensible minds, where mercies touch the
heart!', lifted up both his hands, and with an ecstasy of joy, 'What is
God a-doing ', says he, ' for such an ungrateful dog as I am ! ' Then I
let him know what I had brought over in the sloop, besides all this ; I
mean the horses, hogs, and cows, and other stores for our plantation; all
which added to his surprise, and filled his heart with thankfulness ; and
from this time forward I believe he was as sincere a penitent and as
thoroughly a reformed man as ever God's goodness brought back from a
profligate, a highwayman, and a robber. I could fill a larger^history than
this _with Jhe__ evidences of this. Jtrullv -huOhat I doubt that part of the
story will not be equally diverting as the wicked part.
But this is 'to be my own story, not my husband's. I return therefore to
my own part. We went on with our own plantation, and managed it with
the help and direction of such friends as we got there, and especially the
honest Quaker, who proved a faithful, generous, and steady friend to us;
and we had very good success, for having a flourishing stock to begin
with, as I have said, and this being now increased by the addition of
£150 sterling in money, we enlarged our number of servants, built us a
very good house, and cured every year a great deal of land. The second
year I wrote to my old governess, giving her part with us of the
joy of our success and ordered her how to lay out the money I had left
with her, which was £250 as above, and to send it to us in goods,
which she performed with her usual kindness and fidelity, and all this
arrived safe to us.
^ Here we had a supply of all sorts of clothes, as well for my husband
i as for myself; and I took especial care to buy for Moi. all those things that
I knew he delighted to have; as two good long wigs, two silver-hilted
swords, three or four fine fowling-pieces, a fine saddle with holsters and
pistols very handsome, with a scarlet cloak; and, in a word, everything
I could think of to oblige him, and to make him appear, as he really
was, a very fine gentleman. I ordered a good quantity of such household
stuff as we wanted, with linen for us both. As for myself, I wanted very
1 88 THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
little of clothes or linen, being very well furnished before. The rest of
my cargo consisted in iron-work of all sorts, harness for horses, tools,
clothes for servants, and woollen-cloth, stuffs, serges, stockings, shoes, hats,
and the like, such as servants wear; and whole pieces also, to make up
for servants, all by direction of the Quaker; and all this cargo arrived
safe, and in good condition, with three women-servants, lusty wenches,
which my old governess had picked up for me, suitable enough to the
place, and to the work we had for them to do, one of which happened
to come double, having been got with child by one of the seamen in the
ship, as she owned afterwards, before the ship got so far as Gravesend;
so she brought us out a stout boy, about seven months after our landing.
My husband, you may suppose, was a little surprised at the arriving of
this cargo from England; and talking with me one day after he saw the
particulars, 'My dear', says he, 'what is the meaning of all this? I fear,
you will run us too deep in debt: when shall we be able to make returns
for it all?' I smiled, and told him that it was all paid for; and then I
told him that, not knowing what might befall us in the voyage, and con
sidering what our circumstances might expose us to, I had not taken my
whole stock with me, that I had reserved so much in my friend's hands,
which now we were come over safe, and settled in a way to live, I had
sent for, as he might see.
He was amazed, and stood awhile telling upon his fingers, but said
nothing. At last he began thus: 'Hold, let's see', says he, telling upon
his fingers still, and first on his thumb; 'there's £246 in money at first,
then two gold watches, diamond rings, and plate ', says he, upon the fore
finger. Then upon the next finger, 'Here's a plantation on York River,
£100 a year, then £150 in money, then a sloop-load of horses, cows, hogs,
and stores ' ; and so on to the thumb again. ' And now ', says he, ' a cargo
cost £250 in England, and worth here twice the money.' 'Well', says I,
•what do you make of all that?' 'Make of it?' says he. 'Why, who
says I was deceived when I married a wife in Lancashire? I think I have
married a fortune, and a very good fortune too', says he.
In a word, we were now in very considerable circumstances, and every
year increasing; for our new plantation grew upon our hands insensibly,
and in eight years which we lived upon it, we brought it to such a pitch
that the produce was at least £300 sterling a year: I mean, worth so
much in England. »
After I had been a year at home again, I went over the bay to see my
son, and to receive another year's income of my plantation; and I was
surprised to hear, just at my landing there, that my old husband was
dead, and had not been buried above a fortnight. This, I confess, was
not disagreeable news, because now I could appear as I was, in a married
condition; so I told my son before I came from him that I believed I
should marry a gentleman who had a plantation near mine; and though
I was legally free to marry, as to any obligation that was on me before,
yet that I was shy of it lest the plot should some time or other be revived,
and it might make a husband uneasy. My son, the same kind, dutiful,
and obliging creature as ever, treated me now at his own house, paid me
my hundred pounds, and sent me home again loaded with presents.
Some time after this, I let my son know I was married, and invited him
over Jo see us, and my husband wrote a very obliging letter to him also,
inviting him to come and see him ; and he came accordingly some months
THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS 189
after, and happened to be there just when my cargo from England came
in, which I let him believe belonged all to my husband's estate, and
not to me.
It must be observed that when the old wretch, my brother (husband)
was dead, I then freely gave my husband an account of all that affair, and
of this cousin, as I called him before, being my own son by that mistaken
match. He was perfectly easy in the account, and told me he should have
been easy if the old man, as we called him, had been alive. 'For', said
he, 'it was no fault of yours, nor of his; it was a mistake impossible to
be prevented.' He only reproached him with desiring me to conceal it,
and to live with him as a wife, after I knew that he was my brother;
that, he said, was a vile part. Thus all these little difficulties were made
easy, and we lived together with the greatest kindness and comfort
imaginable. We are now grown old ; I am come back to England, being
almost, seventy years of age, my husband sixty-eight, having performed
much more than the limited terms of my transportation ; and now, notwith
standing all the fatigues and all the miseries we have both gone through,
we are both in good heart and health. My husband remained there some
time after me to settle our affairs, and at first I had intended to go back
to him, but at his desire I altered that resolution, and he is come over to
England also, where we resolve to spend the remainder of our years in
sincere penitence for the wicked lives we have lived.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1683
THE FORTUNATE MISTRESS
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
*T*HE history of this beautiful lady is to speak for itself; if it is not as
A beautiful as the lady herself is reported to be ; if it is not as diverting
as the reader can desire, and much more than he can reasonably expect;
and if all the most diverting parts of it are not adapted to the instruction
and improvement of the reader, the relator says it must be from the defect
of his performance; dressing up the story in worse clothes than the lady,
whose words he speaks, prepared for the world.
He takes the liberty to say that this story differs from most of the modern
performances of this kind, though some of them have met with a very
good reception in the world. I say, it differs from them in this great and
essential article, namely, that the foundation of this is laid in truth of
fact ; and so the work is not a story, but a history.
The scene is laid so near the place where the main part of it was
transacted that it was necessary to conceal names and persons, lest what
cannot be yet entirely forgot in that part of the town should be remembered,
and the facts traced back too plainly by the many people yet living,
who would know the persons by the particulars.
It is not always necessary that the names of persons should be discovered,
though the history may be many ways useful; and if we should be always
obliged to name the persons, or not to relate the story, the consequence
might be only this — that many a pleasant and delightful history would be
buried in the dark, and the world deprived both of the pleasure and the
profit of it.
The writer says he was particularly acquainted with this lady's first
husband, the brewer, and with his father, and also with his bad circum
stances, and knows that first part of the story to be truth.
This may, he hopes, be a pledge for the credit of the rest, though the
latter part of her history lay abroad, and could not be so well vouched
as the first; yet, as she has told it herself, we have the less reason to
question the truth of that part also.
In the manner she has tokl the story, it is evident she does not insist
upon her justification in any one part of it ; much less does she recommend
her conduct, or, indeed, any part of it, except her repentance, to our
imitation. On the contrary, she makes frequent excursions, in a just
censuring and condemming her own practice. How often does she reproach
herself in the most passionate manner, and guide us to just reflections in
the like cases!
It is true she met with unexpected success in all her wicked courses;
but even in the highest elevations of her prosperity she makes frequent
acknowledgments that the pleasure of her wickedness was not worth the
repentance; and that all the satisfaction she had, all the joy in the view
of her prosperity — no, nor all the wealth she rolled in, the gaiety of her
appearance, the equipages and the honours she was attended with, could
quiet her mind, abate the reproaches of her conscience, or procure her an
hour's sleep when just reflection kept her waking.
The noble inferences that are drawn from this one part are worth all
the rest of the story, and abundantly justify, as they are the professed
design of, the publication.
13
194 AUTHOR'S PREFACE
If there are any parts in her story which, being obliged to relate ft
wicked action, seem to describe it too plainly, the writer says all imaginable
care has been taken to keep clear of indecencies and immodest expressions ;
and it is hoped you will find nothing to prompt a vicious mind, bttt
everywhere much to discourage and expose it.
Scenes of crime can scarce be represented in such a manner but some
may make a criminal use of them; but when vice is painted in its low-
prized colours, it is not to make people in love with it, but to expose it;
and, if the reader makes a wrong use of the figures, the wickedness is
his own.
In the meantime, the advantages of the present work are so great, and
the virtuous reader has room for so much inprovement, that we make no
question the story, however meanly told, will find a passage to his best
hours, and be read both with profit and delight.
A HISTORY OF
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
f WAS born, as my friends told me, at the city of Poitiers, in the province
•*• or county of Poitou in France, from whence I was brought to England
by my parents, who fled for their religion about the year 1683, when the
Protestants were banished from France by the cruelty of their persecutors.
I, who knew little or nothing of what I was brought over hither for,
was well enough pleased with being here. London, a large and gay city,
took with me mighty well, who, from my being a child, loved a crowd,
and to see a great many fine folks.
I retained nothing of France but the language, my father and mother
being people of better fashion than ordinarily the people called refugees
at that time were ; and having fled early, while it was easy to secure their
effects, had, before their coming over, remitted considerable sums of money,
or, as I remember, a considerable value in French brandy, paper, and
other goods; and these selling very much to advantage here, my father
was in very good circumstances at his coming over so that he was far
from applying to the rest of our nation that were here for countenance
and relief. On the contrary, he had his door continually thronged with
miserable objects of the poor starving creatures who at that time fled hither
for shelter on account of conscience, or something else.
I have indeed heard my father say that he was pestered with a great
many of those who, for any religion they had, might e'en have stayed
where they were, but who flocked over hither in droves, for what they
call in English a livelihood; hearing with what open arms the refugees
were received in England, and how they fell readily into business, being,
by the charitable assistance of the people in London, encouraged to work
in their manufactories in Spitalfields, Canterbury, and other places, and
that they had a much better price for their work than in France, and
the like.
My father, I say, told me that he was more pestered with the clamours
of these people than of those who were truly refugees, and fled in distress
merely for conscience.
I was about ten years old when I was brought over hither, where, as
I have said, my father lived in very good circumstances, and died in about
eleven years more; in which time, as I had accomplished myself for the
sociable part of the world, so I had acquainted myself with some of our
English neighbours, as is the custom in London; and as, while I was
young, I had picked up three or four playfellows and companions suitable
to my years, so, as we grew bigger, we learned to call one another inti
mates and friends; and this forwarded very much the finishing me for
conversation and the world.
I went to English schools, and being young, I learned the English
tongue perfectly well, with all the customs of the English young women;
so that I retained nothing of the French but the speech; nor did I so
196
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
much as keep any remains of the French language tagged to my way of
speaking, as most foreigners do, but spoke what we call natural English,
as if I had been born here.
Being to give my own character, I must be excused to give it as im
partially as possible, and as if I was speaking of another body; and the
sequel will lead you to judge whether I flatter myself or no.
I was (speaking of myself at about fourteen years of age) tall, and very
well made ; sharp as a hawk in matters of common knowledge ; quick and
smart in discourse; apt to be satirical; full of repartee; and a little too
forward in conversation, or, as we call it in English, bold, though perfectly
modest in my behaviour. Being French born, I danced, as some say,
naturally, loved it extremely, and sang well also, and so well that, as
you will hear, it was afterwards some advantage to me. With all these
things, I wanted neither wit, beauty, nor money. In this manner I set out
into the world, having all the advantages that any young woman could
desire, to recommend me to others, and form a prospect of happy living
to myself.
At about fifteen years of age, my father gave me, as he called it in
French, 25,000 livres, that is to say, two thousand pounds portion, and
married me to an eminent brewer in the city. Pardon me if I conceal
his name; for though he was the foundation of my ruin, I cannot take
so severe a revenge upon him.
With this thing called a husband I lived eight years in good fashion,
and for some part of the time kept a coach, that is to say, a kind of
mock coach; for all the week the horses were kept at work in the dray-
carts ; but on Sunday I had the privilege to go abroad in my chariot,
either to church or otherways, as my husband and I could agree about it,
which, by the way, was not very often; but of that hereafter.
Before I proceed in the history of the married part of my life, you must
allow me to give as impartial an account of my husband as I have done
of myself. He was a jolly, handsome fellow, as any woman need wish
for a companion ; tall and well made ; rather a little too large, but not so
as to be ungenteel ; he danced well, which I think was the first thing that
brought us together. He had an old father who managed the business
carefully, so that he had little of that part lay on him, but now and then
to appear and show himself; and he took the advantage of it, for he
troubled himself very little about it, but went abroad, kept company,
hunted much, and loved it exceedingly.
After 1 have told you that he was a handsome man and a good sports
man, I have indeed said all ; and unhappy was I, like other young people
of our sex, I chose him for being a handsome, jolly fellow, as I have
said; for he was otherwise a weak, empty-headed, untaught creature, as
any woman could ever desire to be coupled with. And here I must take
the liberty, whatever I have to reproach myself with in my after conduct,
to turn to my fellow-creatures, the young ladies of this country, and speak
to them by way of precaution. If you have any regard to your future
happiness, any view of living comfortably with a husband, any hope of
preserving your fortunes, or restoring them after any disaster, never, ladies,
marry a fool; any husband rather than a fool. With some other hus
bands you may, I say, be unhappy, but with a fool you must; nay, if
he would, he cannot make you easy; everything he does is so awkward,
everything he says is so empty, a woman of any sense cannot but be
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 197
surfeited and sick of him twenty times a day. What is more shocking
than for a woman to bring a handsome, comely fellow of a husband into
company, and then be obliged to blush for him every time she hears him
speak? to hear other genlemen talk sense, and he able to say nothing?
and so look like a fool, or, which is worse, hear him talk nonsense, and
be laughed at for a fool.
In the next place, there are so many sorts of fools, such an infinite
variety of fools, and so hard it is to know the worst of the kind, that I
am obliged to say, 'No fool, ladies, at all, no kind of fool, whether a
mad fool or a sober fool, a wise fool or a silly fool; take anything but
a fool; nay, be anything, be even an old maid, the worst of nature's
curses, rather than take up with a fool.'
But to leave this awhile, for I shall have occasion to speak of it again ;
my case was particularly hard, for I had a variety of foolish things com
plicated in this unhappy match.
First, and which I must confess is very unsufferable, he was a conceited
fool, tout opiniatre; everything he said was right, was best, and was to the
purpose, whoever was in company, and whatever was advanced by others,
though with the greatest modesty imaginable. And yet, when he came
to defend what he had said by argument and reason, he would do it so
weakly, so emptily, and so nothing to the purpose, that it was enough to
make anybody that heard him sick and ashamed of him.
Secondly, he was positive and obstinate, and the most positive in the
most simple and inconsistent things, such as were intolerable to bear.
These two articles, if there had been no more, qualified him to be a
most unbearable creature for a husband ; and so it may be supposed at
first sight what a kind of life I led with him. However, I did as well as
I could, and held my tongue, which was the only victory I gained over
him; for when he would talk after his own empty rattling way with me,
and I would not answer, or enter into discourse with him on the point
he was upon, he would rise up in the greatest passion imaginable, and
go away, which was the cheapest way I had to be delivered.
I could enlarge here much upon the method I took to make my life
passable and easy with the most incorrigible temper in the world; but it
is too long, and the articles too trifling. I shall mention some of them
as the circumstances I am to relate shall necessarily bring them in.
After I had been married about four years, my own father died, my
mother having been dead before. He liked my match so ill, and saw so
little room to be satisfied with the conduct of my husband, that though
he left me five thousand livres, and more, at his death, yet he left it in
the hands of my elder brother, who, running on too rashly in his adven
tures as a merchant, failed, and lost not only what he had, but what he
had for me too, as you shall hear presently.
Thus I lost the last gift of my father's bounty by having a husband not
fit to be trusted with it: there's one of the benefits of marrying a fool.
_ Within two years after my own father's death my husband's father also
died, and, as I thought, left him a considerable addition to his estate, the
whole trade of the brewhouse, which was a very good one, being now
his own.
But this addition to his stock was his ruin, for he had no genius to
business, he had no knowledge of his accounts; he bustled a little about
it, indeed, at first, and put on a face of business, but he soon grew slack \
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
it was below him to inspect his books, he committed all that to his clerks
and book-keepers ; and while he found money in cash to pay the maltman
and the excise, and put some in his pocket, he was perfectly easy and
indolent, let the main chance go how it would.
I foresaw the consequence of this, and attempted several times to persuade
him to apply himself to his business ; I put him in mind how his customers
complained of the neglect of his servants on one hand, and how abundance
broke in his debt, on the other hand, for want of the clerk's care to
secure him, and the like; but he thrust me by, either with hard words, or
fraudulently, with representing the cases otherwise than they were.
However, to cut short a dull story, which ought not to be long, he began
to find his trade sunk, his stock declined, and that, in short, he could not
carry on his business, and once or twice his brewing utensils were extended
for the excise; and, the last time, he was put to great extremities to
clear them.
This alarmed him, and he resolved to lay down his trade ; which, indeed,
I was not sorry for; foreseeing that if he did not lay it down in time,
he would be forced to do it another way, namely, as a bankrupt. Also
I was willing he should draw out while he had something left, lest I should
come to be stripped at home, and be turned out of doors with my children;
for I had now five children by him, the only work (perhaps) that fools
are good for.
I thought myself happy when he got another man to take his brewhouse
clear off his hands ; for, paying down a large sum of money, my husband
found himself a clear man, all his debts paid, and with between two and
three thousand pounds in his pocket; and being now obliged to remove
from the brewhouse, we took a house at , a village about two miles out
of town; and happy I thought myself, all things considered, that I was got
off clear, upon so good terms ; and had my handsome fellow had but one
capful of wit, I had been still well enough.
I proposed to him either to buy some place with the money, or with
part of it, and offered to join my part to it, which was then in being, and
might have been secured ; so we might have lived tolerably at least during
his life. But, as it is the part of a fool to be void of counsel, so he
neglected it, lived on as he did before, kept his horses and men, rid every
day out to the forest a-hunting, and nothing was done all this while; but
the money decreased apace, and I thought I saw my ruin hastening on
without any possible way to prevent it.
I was not wanting with all that persuasions and entreaties could perform,
but it was all fruitless ; representing to him how fast our money wasted,
and what would be our condition when it was gone, made no impression
on him; but like one stupid, he went on, not valuing all that tears and
lamentations could be supposed to do; nor did he abate his figure or
equipage, his horses or servants, e\ven to the last, till he had not a hundred
pounds left in the whole world.
It was not above three years that all the ready money was thus spending
off; yet he spent it, as I may say, foolishly too, for he kept no valuable
company neither, but generally with huntsmen and horse-coursers, and men
meaner than himself, which is another consequence of a man's being a fool ;
such can never take delight in men more wise and capable than themselves,
and that makes them converse with scoundrels, drink belch with porters,
and keep company always below themselves.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 199
This was my wretched condition, when one morning my husband told
me he was sensible he was come to a miserable condition, and he would
go and seek his fortune somewhere or other. He had said something to
that purpose several times before that, upon my pressing him to consider
his circumstances, and the circumstances of his family, before it should be
too late ; but as I found he had no meaning in anything of that kind, as,
indeed, he had not much in anything he ever said, so I thought they were
but words of course now. When he had said he would be gone, I used
to wish secretly, and even say in my thoughts, I wish you would, for if
you go on thus you will starve us alL
He stayed, however, at home all that day, and lay at home that night;
early the next morning he gets out of bed, goes to a window which looked
out towards the stable, and sounds his French horn, as he called it, which
was his usual signal to call his men to go out a-hunting.
It was about the latter end of August, and so was light yet at five
o'clock, and it was about that time that I heard him and his two men go
out and shut the yard gates after them. He said nothing to me more
than as usual when he used to go out upon his sport; neither did I rise,
or say anything to him that was material, but went to sleep again after
he was gone, for two hours or thereabouts.
It must be a little surprising to the reader to tell him at once, that after
this I never saw my husband more; but, to go farther, I not only never
saw him more, but I never heard from him, or of him, neither of any or
either of his two servants, or of the horses, either what became of them,
where or which way they went, or what they did or intended to do, no
more than if the ground had opened and swallowed them all up, and
nobody had known it, except as hereafter.
I was not, for the first night or two, at all surprised, no, nor very much
the first week or two, believing that if anything evil had befallen them, I
should soon enough have heard of that; and also knowing, that as he had
two servants and three horses with him, it would be the strangest thing
in the world that anything could befall them all, but that I must some
time or other hear of them.
But you will easily allow, that as time ran on, a week, two weeks, a
month, two months, and so on, I was dreadfully frighted at last, and the
more when I looked into my own circumstances, and considered the
condition in which I was left with five children, and not one farthing
subsistence for them, other than about seventy pounds in money, and what
few things of value I had about me, which, though considerable in
themselves, were yet nothing to feed a family, and for a length of
time too.
What to do I knew not, nor to whom to have recourse: to keep in the
house where I was, I could not, the rent being too great; and to leave
it without his orders, if my husband should return, I could not think of
that neither; so that I continued extremely perplexed, melancholy, and
discouraged to the last degree.
I remained in this dejected condition near a twelvemonth. My husband
had two sisters, who were married, and lived very well, and some other
near relations that I knew of, and I hoped would do something for me;
and I frequently sent to these, to know if they could give me any account
of my vagrant creature. But they all declared to me in answer, that they
knew nothing about him; and, after frequent sending, began to think me
2OO THE LIFE OF ROXANA
troublesome, and to let me know they thought so too, by their treating
my maid with very slight and unhandsome returns to her inquiries.
This grated hard, and added to my affliction ; but I had no recourse but
to my tears, for I had not a friend of my own left me in the world. I
should have observed, that it was about half a year before this elopement
of my husband that the disaster I mentioned above befell my brother, who
broke, and that in such bad circumstances, that I had the mortification to
hear, not only that he was in prison, but that there would be little or
nothing to be had by way of composition.
Misfortunes seldom come alone : this was the forerunner of my husband's
flight; and as my expectations were cut off on that side, my husband gone,
and my family of children on my hands, and nothing to subsist them, my
condition was the most deplorable that words can express.
I had some plate and some jewels, as might be supposed, my fortune
and former circumstances considered ; and my husband, who had never
stayed to be distressed, had not been put to the necessity of rifling me,
as husbands usually do in such cases. But, as I had seen an end of all
the ready money during the long time I had lived in a state of expectation
for my husband, so I began to make away with one thing after another, till
those few things of value which I had began to lessen apace, and I saw
nothing but misery and the utmost distress before me, even to have my
children starve before my face. I leave any one that is a mother of
children, and has lived in plenty and in good fashion, to consider and
reflect what must be my condition. As to my husband, I had now no
hope or expectation of seeing him any more ; and indeed, if I had, he was
a man of all the men in the world the least able to help me, or to have
turned his hand to the gaining one shilling towards lessening our distress ;
he neither had the capacity or the inclination; he could have been no
clerk, for he scarce wrote a legible hand; he was so far from being able
to write sense, that he could not make sense of what others wrote ; he was
so far from understanding good English, that he could not spell good
English; to be out of all business was his delight, and he would stand
leaning against a post for half-an-hour together, with a pipe in his mouth,
with all the tranquillity in the world, smoking, like Dryden's countryman,
that whistled as he went, for want of thought, and this even when his
family was, as it were, starving, that little he had wasting, and that we
were all bleeding to death; he not knowing, and as little considering,
where to get another shilling when the last was spent
This being his temper, and the extent of his capacity, I confess I did
not see so much loss in his parting with me as at first I thought I did;
though it was hard and cruel to the last degree in him, not giving me
the least notice of his design; and indeed, that which I was most astonished
at was, that, seeing he must certainly have intended this excursion some
few moments at least before he put it in practice, yet he did not come
and take what little stock of money we had left, or at least a share of it,
to bear his expense for a little while; but he did not; and I am morally
certain he had not five guineas with him in the world when he went away.
All that I could come to the knowledge of about him was, that he left
his hunting-horn, which he called the French horn, in the stable, and his
hunting-saddle, went away in a handsome furniture, as they call it, which
he used sometimes to travel with, having an embroidered housing, a case
of pistols, and other things belonging to them; and one of his servants
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 2OI
had another saddle with pistols, though plain, and the other a long gun;
so that they did not go out as sportsmen, but rather as travellers ; what
part of the woild they went to I never heard for many years.
As I have said, I sent to his relations, but they sent me short and surly
answers; nor did any one of them offer to come to see me, or to see the
children, or so much as to inquire after them, well perceiving that I was
in a condition that was likely to be soon troublesome to them. But it was
no time now to dally with them, or with the world; I left off sending to
them, and went myself among them, laid my circumstances open to them,
told them my whole case, and the condition I was reduced to, begged
they would advise me what course to take, laid myself as low as they
could desire, and entreated them to consider that I was not in a condition
to help myself, and that without some assistance we must all inevitably
perish. I told them that if I had had but one child, or two children, I
would have done my endeavour to have worked for them with my needle,
and should only have come to them to beg them to help me to some
work, that I might get our bread by my labour ; but to think of one single
woman, not bred to work, and at a loss where to get employment, to
get the bread of five children, that was not possible — some of my children
being young too, and none of them big enough to help one another.
It was all one; I received not one farthing of assistance from anybody,
was hardly asked to sit down at the two sisters' houses, nor offered to
eat or drink at two more near relations'. The fifth, an ancient gentlewoman,
aunt-in-law to my husband, a widow, and the least able also of any of
the rest, did, indeed, ask me to sit down, gave me a dinner, and refreshed
me with a kinder treatment than any of the rest, but added the melancholy
part, viz., that she would have helped me, but that, indeed, she was not
able, which, however, I was satisfied was very true.
Here I relieved myself with the constant assistant of the afflicted, I
mean tears; for, relating to her how I was received by the other of my
husband's relations, it made me burst into tears, and I cried vehemently
for a great while together, till I made the good old gentlewoman cry too
several times.
However, I came home from them all without any relief, and went on
at home till I was reduced to such inexpressible distress that is not to be
described. I had been several times after this at the old aunt's, for I
prevailed with her to promise me to go and talk with the other relations,
at least, that, if possible, she could bring some of them to take off the
children, or to contribute something towards their maintenance. And, to
do her justice, she did use her endeavour with them; but all was to no
purpose, they would do nothing, at least that way. I think, with much
entreaty, she obtained, by a kind of collection among them all, about
eleven or twelve shillings in money, which, though it was a present comfort,
was yet not to be named as capable to deliver me from any part of the
load that lay upon me.
There was a poor woman that had been a kind of a dependent upon
our family, and whom I had often, among tfie rest of the relations, been
very kind to; my maid put it into my head one morning to send to this
poor woman, and to see whether she might not be able to help in this
dreadful case.
I must remember it here, to the praise of this poor girl, my maid, that
though I was not able to give her any wages, and had told her so — nay,
202 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I was not able to pay her the wages that I was in arrears to her — yet she
would not leave me ; nay, and as long as she had any money, when I had
none, she would help me out of her own, for which, though I acknow
ledged her kindness and fidelity, yet it was but a bad coin that she was
paid in at last, as will appear in its place.
Amy (for that was her name) put it into my thoughts to send for this
poor woman to come to me ; for I was now in great distress, and I resolved
to do so. But, just the very morning that I intended it, the old aunt, with
the poor woman in her company, came to see me; the good old gentle
woman was, it seems, heartily concerned for me, and had been talking
again among those people, to see what she could do for me, but to very
little purpose.
You shall judge a little of my present distress by the posture she found
me in. I had five little children, the eldest was under ten years old, and
I had not one shilling in the house to buy them victuals, but had sent
Amy out with a silver spoon to sell it, and bring home something from
the butcher's ; and I was in a parlour, sitting on the ground, with a great
heap of old rags, linen, and other things about me, looking them over, to
see if I had anything among them that would sell or pawn for a little
money, and had been crying ready to burst myself, to think what I should
do next.
At this juncture they knocked at the door. I thought it had been Amy,
so I did not rise up; but one of the children opened the door, and they
came directly into the room where I was, and where they found me in
that posture, and crying vehemently, as above. I was surprised at their
coming, you may be sure, especially seeing the person I had but just
before resolved to send for; but when they saw me, how I looked, for my
eyes were swelled with crying, and what a condition I was in as to the
house, and the heaps of things that were about me, and especially when
I told them what I was doing, and on what occasion, they sat down, like
Job's three comforters, and said not one word to me for a great while,
but both of them cried as fast and as heartily as I did.
The truth was, there was no need of much discourse in the case, the
thing spoke itself; they saw me in rags and dirt, who was but a little
before riding in my coach ; thin, and looking almost like one starved, who
was before fat and beautiful. The house, that was before handsomely
furnished with pictures and ornaments, cabinets, pier-glasses, and everything
suitable, was now stripped and naked, most of the goods having been
seized by the landlord for rent, or sold to buy necessaries; in a word,
all was misery and distress, the face of ruin was everywhere to be seen;
we had eaten up almost everything, and little remained, unless, like one
of the pitiful women of Jerusalem, I should eat up my very children
themselves.
After these two good creatures had sat, as I say, in silence some time,
and had then looked about them, my maid Amy came in, and brought
with her a small breast of mutton and two great bunches of turnips,
which she intended to stew for our dinner. As for me, my heart was so
overwhelmed at sesing these two friends — for such they were, though
poor — and at their seeing me in such a condition, that I fell into another
violent fit of crying, so that, in short, I could not speak to them again
for a great while longer.
During my being in such an agony, they went to my maid Amy at
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 2O3
another part of the same room and talked with her. Amy told them al!
my circumstances, and set them forth in such moving terms, and so to the
life, that I could not upon any terms have done it like her myself, and,
in a word, affected them both with it in such a manner, that the old aunt
came to me, and though hardly able to speak for tears, 'Look ye, cousin',
said she, in a few words, 'things must not stand thus; some course must
be taken, and that forthwith; pray, where were these children born?'
I told her the parish where we lived before, that four of them were born
there, and one in the house where I now was, where the landlord, after
having seized my goods for the rent past, not then knowing my circum
stances, had now given me leave to live for a whole year more without
any rent, being moved with compassion; but that this year was now
almost expired.
Upon hearing this account, they came to this resolution, that the children
should be all carried by them to the door of one of the relations mentioned
above, and be set down there by the maid Amy, and that I, the mother,
should remove for some days, shut up the doors, and be gone; that the
people should be told, that if they did not think fit to take some care of
the children, they might send for the churchwardens if they thought that
better, for that they were born in that parish, and there they must be
provided for; as for the other child, which was born in the parish of — ,
that was already taken care of by the parish officers there, for indeed
they were so sensible of the distress of the family that they had at first
word done what was their part to do.
This was what these good women proposed, and bade me leave the
rest to them. I was at first sadly afflicted at the thoughts of parting with
my children, and especially at that terrible thing, their being taken into
the parish keeping; and then a hundred terrible things came into my
thoughts, viz., of parish children being starved at nurse; of their being
ruined, let grow crooked, lamed, and the like, for want of being taken
care of; and this sunk my very heart within me.
But the misery of my own circumstances hardened my heart against my
own flesh and blood ; and, when I considered they must inevitably be
starved, and I too, if I continued to keep them about me, I began to be
reconciled to parting with them all, anyhow and anywhere, that I might
be freed from the dreadful necessity of seeing them all perish, and perishing
with them myself. So I agreed to go away out of the house, and leave
the management of the whole matter to my maid Amy and to them; and
accordingly I did so, and the same afternoon they carried them all away
to one of their aunts.
Amy, a resolute girl, knocked at the door, with the children all with
her, and bade the eldest, as soon as the door was open, run in, and the
rest after her. She set them all down at the door before she knocked,
and when she knocked she stayed till a maid-servant came to the door;
'Sweetheart', said she, 'pray go in and tell your mistress here are her
little cousins come to see her from — ', naming the town where we lived,
at which the maid offered to go back. 'Here, child', says Amy, 'take
one of 'em in your hand, and I'll bring the rest ' ; so she gives her the
least, and the wench goes in mighty innocently, with the little one in her
hand, upon which Amy turns the rest in after her, shuts the door softly,
and marches off as fast as she could.
Just in the interval of this, and even while the maid and her mistress
2O4 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
were quarrelling (for the mistress raved and scolded her like a mad woman,
and had ordered her to go and stop the maid Amy, and turn all the
children out of the doors again; but she had been at the door, and Amy
was gone, and the wench was out of her wits, and the mistress too), I
say, just at this juncture came the poor old woman, not the aunt, but the
other of the two that had been with me, and knocks at the door; the
aunt did not go, because she had pretended to advocate for me, and they
would have suspected her of some contrivance ; but as for the other woman,
they did not so much as know that she had kept up any correspondence
with me.
Amy and she had concerted this between them, and it was well enough
contrived that they did so. When she came into the house, the mistress
was fuming, and raging like one distracted, and called the maid all the
foolish jades and sluts that she could think of, and that she would take
the children and turn them all out into the streets. The good, poor woman,
seeing her in such a passion, turned about as if she would be gone again,
and said, 'Madam, I'll come again another time, I see you are engaged.'
'No, no, Mrs ', says the mistress, 'I am not much engaged, sit down;
this senseless creature here has brought in my fool of a brother's whole
house of children upon me, and tells me that a wench brought them to
the door and thrust them in, and bade her carry them to me; but it shall
be no disturbance to me, for I have ordered them to be set in the street
without the door, and so let the churchwardens take care of them, or else
make this dull jade carry 'em back to again, and let her that brought
them into the world look after them if she will; what does she send her
brats to me for?'
'The last indeed had been the best of the two', says the poor woman,
' if it had been to be done ; and that brings me to tell you my errand, and
the occasion of my coming, for I came on purpose about this very
business, and to have prevented this being put upon you if I could, but
I see I am come too late.'
'How do you mean too late?' says the mistress. ' What ! have you been
concerned in this affair, then ? What ! have you helped bring this family
slur upon us?' 'I hope you do not think such a thing of me, madam,'
says the poor woman; 'but I went this morning to — , to see my old
mistress and benefactor, for she had been very kind to me, and when I
came to the door I found all fast locked and bolted, and the house looking
as if nobody was at home.
'I knocked at the door, but nobody came, till at last some of the
neighbours' servants called to me and said, There's nobody lives there,
mistress ; what do you knock for ? ' I seemed surprised at that. ' What,
nobody lives there ! ' said 1 ; ' what d'ye mean ? Does not Mrs live
there ? ' The answer was, ' No, she is gone ', at which I parleyed with one
of them, and asked her what was the matter. ' Matter ! ' says she, ' why,
it is matter enough : the poor gentlewoman has lived there all alone, and
without anything to subsist her a long time, and this morning the landlord
turned her out of doors.'
'Out of doors!' says I; 'what: with all her children ? Poor lambs, what
is become of them?' 'Why, truly, nothing worse', said they, 'can come
to them than staying here, for they were almost starved with hunger ; so
the neighbours, seeing the poor lady in such distress, for she stood crying
and wringing her hands over her children like one distracted, sent for the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 20$
churchwardens to take care of the children; and they, when they came,
took the youngest, which was born in this parish, and have got it a very
good nurse, and taken care of it ; but as for the other four, they had sent
them away to some of their father's relations, and who were very substantial
people, and who, besides that, lived in the parish where they were born.'
'I was not so surprised at this as not presently to foresee that this
trouble would be brought upon you, or upon Mr — ; so I came immedi
ately to bring word of it, that you might be prepared for it, and might
not be surprised ; but I see they have been too nimble for me, so that I
know not what to advise. The poor woman, it seems, is turned out of
doors into the street ; and another of the neighbours there told me, that
when they took her children from her she swooned away, and when they
recovered her out of that, she ran distracted, and is put into a madhouse
by the parish, for there is nobody else to take any care of her.'
This was all acted to the life by this good, kind, poor creature; for
though her design was perfectly good and charitable, yet there was not
one word of it true in fact; for I was not turned out of doors by the
landlord, nor gone distracted. It was true, indeed, that at parting with
my poor children I fainted, and was like one mad when I came to myself
and found they were gone; but I remained in the house a good while
after that, as you shall hear.
While the poor woman was telling this dismal story, in came the gentle
woman's husband, and, though her heart was hardened against all pity,
who was really and nearly related to the children, for they were the
children of her own brother, yet the good man was quite softened with
the dismal relation of the circumstances of the family; and when the poor
woman had done, he said to his wife, 'This is a dismal case, my dear,
indeed, and something must be done.' His wife fell a-raving at him:
'What', says she, 'do you want to have four children to keep? Have we
not children of our own? Would you have these brats come and eat up
my children's bread ? No, no, let 'em go to the parish, and let them take
care of them; I'll take care of my own.'
' Come, come, my dear ', says the husband, ' charity is a duty to the poor,
and he that gives to the poor lends to the Lord ; let us lend our heavenly
Father a little of our children's bread, as you call it ; it will be a store well laid
up for them, and will be the best security that our children shall never come to
want charity, or be turned out of doors, as these poor innocent creatures are.'
'Don't tell me of security', says the wife, ''tis a good security for our
children to keep what we have together, and provide for them, and then
'tis time enough to help keep other folks' children. Charity begins at home.'
'Well, my dear', says he again, 'I only talk of putting out a little
money to interest; our Maker is a good borrower; never fear making a
bad debt there, child, I'll be bound for it.'
'Dont banter me with your charity and your allegories', says the wife
angrily; 'I tell you they are my relations, not yours, and they shall not
roost here; they shall go to the parish.'
'All your relations are my relations now', says the good gentleman
very calmly, 'and I won't see your relations in distress, and not pity them,
any more than I would my own; indeed, my dear, they shan't go to the
parish. I assure you, none of my wife's relations shall come to the
parish, if I can help it'
1 What! will you take four children to keep ? ' says the wife.
206 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
' No, no, my a«u ', says he, ' there's your sister , I'll go and talk
with her; and your uncle , I'll send for him, and the rest. I'll warrant
you, when we are all together, we will find ways and means to keep four
poor little creatures from beggary and starving, or else it would be very
hard ; we are none of us in so bad circumstances but we are able to spare
a mite for the fatherless. Don't shut up your bowels of compassion against
your own flesh and blood. Could you hear these poor innocent children
cry at your door for hunger, and give them no bread?' j
' Prithee, what need they cry at our door ? ' says she. '"Tis the business
of the parish to provide for them ; they shan't cry at our door. If they
do, I'll give them nothing.' ' Won't you ? ' says he ; ' but I will. Remember
that dreadful Scripture is directly against us. Prov. xxi. 13; Whoso stop-
peth his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall
not be heard.'
•Well, well', says she, 'you must do what you will, because you pretend
to be master; but if I had my will I would send them where they ought
to be sent: I would send them from whence they came.'
Then the poor woman put in, and said, 'But, madam, that is sending
them to starve indeed, for the parish has no obligation to take care of 'em,
and so they will lie and perish in the street.'
* Or be sent back again ', says the husband, ' to our parish in a cripple-
cart, by the justice's warrant, and so expose us and all the relations to
the last degree among our neighbours, and among those who know the
good old gentleman their grandfather, who lived and flourished in this
parish so many years, and was so well beloved among all people, and
deserved it so well.'
'I don't value that one farthing, not I' says the wife; 'I'll keep none
of them.'
•Well, my dear', says her husband, 'but I value it, for I won't have
such a blot lie upon the family, and upon your children ; he was a worthy,
ancient, and good man, and his name is respected among all his neigh
bours; it will be a reproach to you, that are his daughter, and to our
children, that are his grandchildren, that we should let your brother's
children perish, or come to be a charge to the public, in the very place
where your family once flourished. Come, say no more; I will see what
can be done.' :
Upon this he sends and gathers all the relations together at a tavern
hard by, and sent for the four little children, that they might see them ;
and they all, at first word, agreed to have them taken care ot, and, because
his wife was so furious that she would not suffer one of them to be
kept at home, they agreed to keep them all together for a while; so they
committed them to the poor woman that had managed the affair for them,
and entered into obligations to one another to supply the needful sums
for their maintenance; and, not to have one separated from the rest, they
sent for the youngest from the parish where it was taken in, and had
them all brought up together.
It would take up too long a part of this story to give a particular
account with what a charitable tenderness this good person, who was but
an uncle-in-law to them, managed that affair: how careful he was of them;
went constantly to see them, and to see that they were well provided for,
clothed, put to school, and, at last, put out in the world for their advan
tage ; but it is enough to say he acted more like a father to them than
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 207
an uncle-in-law, though all along much against his wife's consent, who
was of a disposition not so tender and compassionate as her husband.
You may believe I heard this with the same pleasure which I now feel
at the relating it again; for I was terribly affrighted at the apprehensions
of my children being brought to misery and distress, as those must be
who have no friends, but are left to parish benevolence.
I was now, however, entering on a new scene of life. I had a great
house upon my hands, and some furniture left in it; but I was no more
able to maintain myself and my maid Amy in it than I was my five
children; nor had I anything to subsist with but what I might get by
working, and that was not a town where much work was to be had.
My landlord had been very kind indeed after he came to know my
circumstances; though, before he was acquainted with that part, he had
gone so far as to seize my goods, and to carry some of them off too.
But I had lived three-quarters of a year in his house after that, and had
paid him no rent, and, which was worse, I was in no condition to pay
him any. However, I observed he came oftener to see me, looked kinder
trpon me, and spoke more friendly to me, than he used to do, particularly
the last two or three times he had been there. He observed, he said,
how poorly I lived, how low I was reduced, and the like; told me it
grieved him for my sake; and the last time of all he was kinder still,
told me he came to dine with me, and that I should give him leave to
treat me; so he called my maid Amy, and sent her out to buy a joint of
meat ; he told her what she should buy ; but naming two or three things,
either of which she might take, the maid, a cunning wench, and faithful
to me as the skua to my back, did not buy anything outright, but brought
the butcher along with her, with both the things that she had chosen, for
him to please himself. The one was a large, very good leg of veal; the
other a piece of the fbres-ibs of roasting beef. He looked at them, but
made me chaffer with the butcher for him, and I did so, and came back
to him and told him what the butcher had demanded for either of them,
and what each of them came to. So he pulls out eleven shillings and
threepence, which they came to together, and bade me take them both;
the rest, he said, would serve another time.
I was surprised, you may be sure, at the bounty of a man that had but
a little while ago been my terror, and had torn the goods out of my house
like a fury ; but I considered that my distresses had mollified his temper,
and that he had afterwards been so compassionate as to give me leave to
live rent free in the house a whole year.
But now he put on the face, not of a man of compassion only, but of
a man of friendship and kindness, and this was so unexpected that it was
surprising. We chatted together, and were, as I may call it. cheerful,
which was more than I could say I had been for three years before. He
sent for wine and beer too, for I had none ; poor Amy and I had drank
nothing but water for many weeks, and indeed I have often wondered at
the faithful temper of the poor girl, for which I but ill requited her
at last.
When Amy was come with the wine, he made her fill a glass to him,
and with the glass in his hand he came to me and kissed me, which I
was, I confess, a little surprised at, but more at what followed; for he
told me, that as the sad condition which I was reduced to had made him
pity me, so my conduct in it, and the courage I bore it with, had given
208 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
him a more than ordinary respect for me, and made him very thoughtful
for my good; that he was resolved for the present to do something to
relieve me, and to employ his thoughts in the meantime, to see if he
could for the future put me into a way to support myself.
While he found me change colour, and look surprised at his discourse,
for so I did, to be sure, he turns to my maid Amy, and looking at her,
he says to me, ' I say all this, madam, before your maid, because both
she and you shall know that I have no ill design, and that I have, in
mere kindness, resolved to do something for you if I can } and as I have
been a witness of the uncommon honesty and fidelity of Mrs Amy here
to you in all your distresses, I know she may be trusted with so honest
a design as mine is; for I assure you, I bear a proportioned regard to
your maid too, for her affection to you.'
Amy made him a curtsey, and the poor girl looked so confounded with
joy that she could not speak, but her colour came and went, and every
now and then she blushed as red as scarlet, and the next minute looked
as pale as death. Well, having said this, he sat down, made me sit down,
and then drank to me, and made me drink two glasses of wine together;
'For', says he, 'you have need of it'; and so indeed I had. When he
had done so, 'Come, Amy', says he, 'with your mistress's leave, you shall
have a glass too.' So he made her drink two glasses also ; and then rising
up, 'And now, Amy', says he, 'go and get dinner; and you, madam',
says he to me, 'go up and dress you, and come down and smile and be
merry'; adding, 'I'll make you easy if I can'; and in the meantime, he
said, he would walk in the garden.
When he was gone, Amy changed her countenance indeed, and looked
as merry as ever she did in her life. ' Dear madam ', says she, ' what does
this gentleman mean?' 'Nay, Amy', said I, 'he means to do us good, you
see, don't he ? I know no other meaning he can have, for he can get
nothing by me.' 'I warrant you, madam', says she, 'he'll ask you a
favour by-and-by.' 'No, no, you are mistaken, Amy, I dare say', said I;
'you have heard what he said, didn't you?' 'Ay', says Amy, 'it's no
matter for that, you shall see what he will do after dinner.' 'Well, well,
Amy ,' says I, ' you have hard thoughts of him. I cannot be of your
opinion: I don't see anything in him yet that looks like it.' 'As to that
madam', says Amy, 'I don't see anything of it yet neither; but what should
move a gentleman to take pity of us as he does ? ' ' Nay ', says I, ' that's
a hard thing too, that we should judge a man to be wicked because he's
charitable, and vicious because he's kind.' 'Oh, madam', says Amy,
'there's abundance of charity begins in that vice; and he is not so unac
quainted with things as not to know that poverty is the strongest incen
tive — a temptation against which no virtue is powerful enough to stand
out. He knows your condition as well as you do.' ' Well, and what then ? '
'Why, then, he knows too that you are young and handsome, and he has
the surest bait in the world to take you with.'
'Well, Amy', said I, 'but he may find himself mistaken too in such a
thing as that.' 'Why, madam', says Amy, 'I hope you won't deny him
if he should offer it.'
'What d'ye mean by that, hussy?' said I. 'No, I'd starve first.'
'I hope not, madam, I hope you would be wiser; I'm sure if he will
set you up, as he talks of, you ought to deny him nothing ; and you will
Starve if you do not consent, that's certain,'
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 209
•What! consent to lie with him for bread? Amy', said I, 'how can
you talk so!'
'Nay, madam', says Amy, 'I don't think you would for anything else;
it would not be lawful for anything else, but for bread, madam; why,
nobody can starve, there's no bearing that, I'm sure.'
'Ay', says I, 'but if he would give me an estate to live on, he should
not lie with me, I assure you.'
'Why, look you, madam; if he would but give you enough to live easy
upon, he should lie with me for it with all my heart.'
'That's a token, Amy, of inimitable kindness to me', said I, 'and I know
how to value it; but there's more friendship than honesty in it, Amy.'
'Oh, madam', says Amy, 'I'd do anything to get you out of this sad
condition; as to honesty, I think honesty is out of the question when
starving is the case. Are not we almost starred to death ? '
'I am indeed', said I, 'and thou art for my sake; but to be a whore,
Amy!'; and there I stopped.
' Dear madam ', says Amy, ' if I will starve for your sake, I will be a
whore or anything for your sake ; why, I would die for you if I were
put to it.'
'Why, that's an excess of affection, Amy', said I, 'I never met with
before; I wish I may be ever in condition to make you some returns
suitable. But, however, Amy, you shall not be a whore to him, to oblige
him to be kind to me; no, Amy, nor I won't be a whore to him, if he
would give me much more than he is able to give me or do for me/
'Why, madam', says Amy, 'I don't say I will go and ask him; but I
say, if he should promise to do so and so for yon, and the condition was
such that he would not serve you unless I would let him lie with me, he
should lie with me as often as he would, rather than you should not have
his assistance. But this is but talk, madam ; I don't see any need of such
discourse, and you are of opinion that there will be no need of it.'
'Indeed, so I am, Amy; but', said I, 'if there was, I tell you again, I'd
die before I would consent, or before you should consent for my sake.'.
Hitherto I had not only preserved the virtue itself, but the virtuous^
inclination and resolution; and had I kept myself there I had been happy,'
though I had perished of mere hunger ; for, without question, a woman
ought rather to die than to prostitute her virtue and honour, let the
temptation be what it will.
But to return to my story? he walked about the garden, which was,
indeed, all in disorder, and overrun with weeds, because I had not been
able to hire a gardener to do anything to it, no, not so much as to dig
up ground enough to sow a few turnips and carrots for family use. After
he had viewed it, he came in, and sent Amy to fetch a poor man, a gardener,;
that used to help our man-servant, and carried him into the garden, and
ordered him to do several things in it, to put it into a little order; and
this took him up near an hour.
By this time I had dressed ra« as well as I could; for though I had
good linen left still, yet I had but a poor head-dress, and no knots, but
old fragments; no necklace, no earrings; all those things were gone long
ago for mere bread.
However, I was tight and clean, and in better plight than he had seen
me in a great while, and he looked extremely pleased too see me so; for,
he said, I looked so disconsolate and so atilicted before, that it grieved
210 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
him to see me; and he bade me pluck «p a good heart, for he hoped to
put me in a condition to live in the world and be beholden to nobody.
I told him that was impossible, for I must be beholden to him for it,
for all the friends I had in the world would not or could not do so much
for me as that he spoke of. 'Well, widow', says he (so he called me
and so indeed I was in the worst sense that desolate word could be used
in), 'if you are beholden to me, you shall be beholden to nobody else.'
By this time dinner was ready, and Amy came in to lay the cloth, and
indeed it was happy there was none to dine but he and I, for I had but
six plates left in the house, and but two dishes; however, he knew how
things were, and bade me make no scruple about bringing out what I had.
He hoped to see me in a better plight. He did not come, he said, to be
entertained, but to entertain me, and comfort and encourage me. Thus he
went on, speaking so cheerfully to me, and such cheerful things, that it
was a cordial to my very soul to hear him speak.
Well, we went to dinner. I'm sure I had not ate a good meal hardly
in a twelvemonth, at least not of such a joint of meat as the loin of veal
was, I ate, indeed, very heartily, and so did he, and he made me drink
three or four glasses of wine ; so that, in short, my spirits were lifted up
to a degree I had not been used to, and I was not only cheerful, but
merry ; and so he pressed me to be.
• I told him 1 had a great deal of reason to be merry, seeing he had
been so kind to me, and had given me hopes of recovering me from the
worst circumstances that ever woman of any sort of fortune was sunk into;
that he could not but believe that what he had said to me was like life
from the dead ; that it was like recovering one sick from the brink of the
frave; how I should ever make him a return any way suitable was what
had not yet had time to think of; I could only say that I should never
forget it while I had life, and should be always ready to acknowledge it.
•f He said that was all he desired of me; that his reward would be the
satisfaction of having rescued me from misery; that he found he was
obliging one that knew what gratitude meant; that he would make it his
business to make me completely easy, first or last, if it lay in his power;
and in the meantime he bade me consider of anything that I thought he
might do for me, for my advantage, and in order to make me per
fectly easy.
After we had talked thus, he bade me be cheerful. 'Come', says he,
•lay aside these melancholy things, and let us be merry.' Amy waited at
the table, and she smiled and laughed, and was so merry she could hardly
contain it, for the girl loved me to an excess hardly to be described ; and
it was such an unexpected thing to hear any one talk to her mistress, that
the wench was beside herself almost, and, as soon as dinner was over,
Amy went upstairs, and put on her best clothes too, and came down
dressed like a gentlewoman.
We sat together talking of a thousand things — of what had been, and
what was to be — all the rest of the day, and in the evening he took his
leave of me, with a thousand expressions of kindness and tenderness and
true affection to me, but offered not the least of what my maid Amy had
suggested.
At his going away he took me in his arms, protested an honest kindness
to me; said a thousand kind things to me, which I cannot now recollect;
and, after kissing me twenty times or thereabouts, put a guinea into my
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 211
hand, which, he said, was for my present supply, and told me that he
would see me again before it was out; also he gave Amy half-a-crown.
When he was gone, 'Well, Amy', said I, 'are you convinced now that
he is an honest as well as a true friend, and that there has been nothing,
not the least appearance of anything, of what you imagined in his behav
iour ? ' 'Yes ', says Amy, ' I am, but I admire at it. He is such a friend
as the world, sure, has not abundance of to show.'
'I am sure', says I, *he is such a friend as I have long wanted, and as
I have as much need of as any creature in the world has, or ever had.'
_And, in short, I was so overcome with the comfort of it that I sat down
and cried for joy a good while, as I had formerly cried for sorrow. Amy
and I went to bed that night (for Amy lay with me) pretty early, but lay
chatting almost all night about it, and the girl was so transported that
she got up two or three times in the night and danced about the room
in her shift; in short, the girl was half distracted with the joy of it; a
testimony still of her violent affection for her mistress, in which no servant
ever went beyond her.
: We heard no more of him for two days, but the third day he came
again; then he told me, with the same kindness, that he had ordered me
a supply of household goods for the furnishing the house ; that, in particular,
he had sent me back all the goods that he had seized for rent, which
consisted, indeed, of the best of my former furniture. ' And now ', says he,
' I'll tell you what I have had in my head for you for your present supply,
and that is', says he, 'that the house being well furnished, you shall let
it out to lodgings for the summer gentry1, says he, 'by which you will
easily get a good comfortable subsistence, especially seeing you shall pay
me no rent for two years, nor after neither, unless you can afford it.'
This was the first view I had of living comfortably indeed, and it was
a very probable way, I must confess, seeing we had very good con
veniences, six rooms on a floor, and three stories high. While he was laying
down the scheme of my management, came a cart to the door with a
load of goods, and an upholsterer's man to put them up. They were
chiefly the furniture of two rooms which he had carried away for his two
years' rent, with two fine cabinets, and some pier-glasses out of the parlour,
and several other valuable things.
These were all restored to their places, and he told me he gave them
me freely, as a satisfaction for the cruelty he had used me with before;
and the furniture of one room being finished and set up, he told me he
would furnish one chamber for himself, and would come and be one of
my lodgers, if I would give him leave.
I told him he ought not to ask me leave, who had so much right to
make himself welcome. So the house began to look in some tolerable
figure, and clean; the garden also, in about a fortnight's work, began to
look something less like a wilderness than it used to do ; and he ordered
me to put up a bill for letting rooms, reserving one for himself, to come
to as he saw occasion.
When all was done to his mind, as to placing the goods, he seemed
very well pleased, and we dined together again of his own providing; and
the upholsterer's man gone, after dinner he took me by the hand. 'Come
now, madam', says he, 'you must show me your house' (for he had a
mind to see everything over again). 'No, sir', said I; 'but I'll go show
you your house, if you please ' ; so we went up through all the rooms, and
212 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
in the room which was appointed for himself Amy was doing something.
'Well, Amy', says he, 'I intend to lie with you to-morrow night.' 'To
night, if you please, sir ', says Amy very innocently ; , your room is quite
ready.' ' Well, Amy ', says he, ' I am glad you are so willing.' ' No ',
says Amy, 'I mean your chamber is ready to-night', and away she run
out of the room, ashamed enough; for the girl meant no harm, whatever
she had said to me in private.
However, he said no more thenj but when Amy was gone be walked
about the room, and looked at everything, and taking me by the hand he
kissed me, and spoke a great many kind, affectionate things to me indeed ;
as of his measures for my advantage, and what he would do to raise me
again in the world; told me that my afflictions and the conduct I had
shown in bearing them to such an extremity, had so engaged him to me
that he valued me infinitely above all the women in the world ; that, though
he was under such engagements that he could not marry me (his wife
and he had been parted for some reasons, which make too long a story
to intermix with mine), yet that he would be everything else that a woman
could ask in a husband; and with that he kissed me again, and took me
in his arms, but offered not the least uncivil action to me, and told me
he hoped I would not deny him all the favours he should ask, because he
resolved to ask nothing of me but what it was fit for a woman of virtue
and modesty, for such he knew me to be, to yield.
I confess the terrible pressure of my former misery, the memory of
which lay heavy upon my mind, and the surprising kindness with which
he had delivered me, and, withal, the expectations of what he might still
do for me, were powerful things, and made me have scarce the power to
deny him anything he would ask. However, I told him thus, with an air
of tenderness too, that he had done so much for me that I thought I
ought to deny him nothing; only I hoped and depended upon him that
he would not take the advantage of the infinite obligations I was under
to him, to desire anything of me the yielding to which would lay me
lower in his esteem than I desired to be ; that, as I took him to be a man
of honour, so I knew he could not like me better for doing anything that
was below a woman of honesty and good manners to do.
He told me that he had done all this for me, without so much as telling
me what kindness or real affection he had for me, that I might not be
under any necessity of yielding to him in anything for want of bread;
and he would no more oppress my gratitude now than he would my
necessity before, nor ask anything, supposing he would stop his favours
or withdraw his kindness, if he was denied ; it was true, he said, he might
tell me more freely his mind now than before, seeing I had let him see
that I accepted his assistance, and saw that he was sincere in his design
of serving me; that he had gone thus far to show me that he was kind
to me, but that now he would tell me that he loved me, and yet would
demonstrate that his love was both honourable, and that what he should
desire was what he might honestly ask and I might honestly grant.
I answered that, within those two limitations, I was sure I ought to
deny him nothing, and I should think myself not ungrateful only, but very
unjust, if I should; so he said no more, but I observed he kissed me
more, and took me in his arms in a kind of familiar way, more than usual,
and which once or twice put me in mind of my maid Amy's words; and
yet, I must acknowledge, I was so overcome with his goodness to me in
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 213
those many kind things he had done, that I not only was easy at what
he did and made no resistance, but was inclined to do the like, whatever
he had offered to do. But he went no farther than what I have said, nor
did he offer so much as to sit down on the bed-side with me, but took
his leave, said he loved me tenderly, and would convince me of it by such
demonstrations as should be to my satisfaction. I told him I had a great
deal of reason to believe him, that he was full master of the whole house
and of me, as far as was within the bounds we had spoken of, which I
believed he would not break, and asked him if he would not lodge there
that night.
He said he could not well stay that night, business requiring him in
London, but added, smiling, that he would come the next day and take a
night's lodging with me. I pressed him to stay that night, and told him
I should be glad a friend so valuable should ^>e under the same roof with
me ; and indeed I began at that time not only to be much obliged to him,
but to love him too, and that in a manner that I had not been acquainted
with myself.
Oh ! let no woman slight the temptation that being generously delivered
from trouble is to any spirit furnished with gratitude and just principles.
This gentleman had freely and voluntarily delivered me from misery, from
poverty, and rags; he had made me -n-hat I was, and put me into a way
to be even more than I ever was, namely, to live happy and pleased, and
on his bounty I depended. What could I say to this gentleman when he
pressed me to yield to him, and argued the lawfulness of it? But of that
in its place.
I pressed him again to stay that night, and told him it was the first
completely happy night that I had ever had in the house in my life, and
I should be very sorry to have it be without his company, who was the
cause and foundation of it all; that we would be innocently merry, but
that it could never be without him ; and, in short, I courted him so, that
he said he could not deny me, but he would take his horse and go to
London, do the business he had to do, which, it seems, was to pay a
foreign bill that was due that night, and would else be protested, and that
he would come back in three hours at farthest, and sup with me ; but bade
me get nothing there, for since I was resolved to be merry, which was
what he desired above all things, he would send me something from
London. 'And we will make it a wedding supper, my dear', says he;
and with that word took me in his arms, and kissed me so vehemently
that I made no question but he intended to do everything else that Amy
had talked of.
I started a little at the word wedding. 'What do ye mean, to call it
by such a name?' says I; adding, 'We will have a supper, but t'other is
impossible, as well on your side as mine.' He laughed. 'Well', says
he, 'you shall call it what you will, but it may be the same thing, for I
shall satisfy you it is not so impossible as you make it.'
'I don't understand you', said I. 'Have not I a husband and you
a wife ? '
'Well, well', says he, 'we will talk of that after supper'; so he rose
up, gave me another kiss, and took his horse for London.
This kind of discourse had fired my blood, I confess, and I knew not
what to think of it. It was plain now that he intended to lie with me,
but how he would reconcile it to a legal thing, like a marriage, that I
214 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
could not Imagine. We had both of us used Amy with so much intimacy,
and trusted her with everything, having such unexampled instances of her
fidelity, that he made no scruple to kiss me and say all these things to
me before her; nor had he cared one farthing, if I would have let him
He with me, to have had Amy there too all night. When he was gone,
'Well, Amy', says I, 'what will all this come to now? I am all in a
sweat at him.' ' Come to, madam ? ' says Amy. ' I see what it will come
to; I must put you to bed to-night together.' 'Why, you would not be so
impudent, you jade, you', says I, 'would you?' 'Yes, I would', says she,
'with all my heart, and think you both as honest as ever you were in
your lives,'
'What ails the slut to talk so?' said I. 'Honest! How can it be
honest?' 'Why, I'll tell you, madam', says Amy; 'I sounded it as soon
as I heard him speak, and it is very true too ; he calls you widow, and
such indeed you are; for, as my master has left you so many years, he is
dead, to be sure ; at least he is dead to you ; he is no husband. You are,
and ought to be, free to marry who you will ; and, his wife being gone
from him, and refusing to lie with him, then he is a single man again as
much as ever; and, though you cannot bring the laws of the land to join
you together, yet, one refusing to do the office of a wife, and the other
of a husband, you may certainly take one another fairly.'
'Nay, Amy', says I, 'if I could take him fairly, you may be sure I'd
take him above all the men in the world; it turned the very heart within
me when I heard him say he loved me. How could it be otherwise, when
you know what a condition I was in before, despised and trampled on by
all the world? I could have took him in my arms and kissed him as
freely as he did me, if it had not been for shame.'
' Ay, and all the rest too ', says Amy, l at the first word. I don't see
how you can think of denying him anything. Has he not brought you
out of the devil's clutches, brought you out of the blackest misery that
ever poor lady was reduced to ? Can a woman deny such a man anything ? '
'Nay, I don't know what to do, Amy', says I. 'I hope he won't desire
anything of that kind of me ; I hope he won't attempt it If he does, I
know not what to say to him.'
' Not ask you ! ' says Amy. ' Depend upon it, he will ask you and you will
grant it too. I am sure my mistress is no fool. Come, pray, madam, let me
go air you a clean shift; don't let him find you in foul linen the wed
ding-night,'
•But that I know you to be a very honest girl, Amy', says I, 'you would
make me abhor you. Why, you argue for the devil, as if you were one
of his privy councillors.'
'It's no matter for that, madam, I say nothing but what I think. You
own you love this gentleman, and he has given you sufficient testimony of
his affection to you ; your conditions are alike unhappy, and he is of
opinion that he may take another woman, his first wife having broke her
honour, and living from him; and that, though the laws of the land will
not allow him to marry formally, yet that he may take another woman
into his arms, provided he keeps true to the other woman as a wife ; nay,
he says it is usual to do so, and allowed by the custom of the place in
several countries abroad. And, I must own, I am of the same mind ; else it
is in the power of a whore, after she has jilted and abandoned her husband, to
confine him from the pleasure as well as convenience of a woman all the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 215
days of his fife, which would be very unreasonable, and, as times go, not
tolerable to all people; and the like on your side, madam.'
Had I now had my senses about me, and had my reason not been
overcome by the powerful attraction of so kind, so beneficent a friend j
had I consulted conscience and virtue, I should have repelled this Amy,
however faithful and honest to me in other things, as a viper and engine
of the devil. I ought to have remembered that neither he or I, either by
the laws of God or man, could come together upon any other terms than
that of notorious adultery. The ignorant jade's argument, that he had
brought me out of the hands of the devil, by which she meant the devil of
poverty and distress, should have been a powerful motive to me not to
plunge myself into the jaws of hell, and into the power of the real devil,
in recompense for that deliverance, I should have looked upon all the
good this man had done for me to have been the particular work of the
goodness of Heaven, and that goodness should have moved me to a return
of duty and humble obedience. I should have received the mercy thank
fully, and applied it soberly, to the praise and honour of my Maker;
whereas, by this wicked course, ail the botmty and kindness of this
gentleman became a snare to me, was a mere bait to the devil's hook ; I
received his kindness at the dear expense of body and soul, mortgaging
faith, religion, conscience, and modesty for (as I may call it) a morsel of
bread; or, if you will, ruined my soul from a principle of gratitude, and
gave myself up to the devil, to show myself grateful to my benefactor. I
must do the gentleman that justice as to say I verily believe that he did
nothing but what he thought was lawful; and I must do that justice upon
myself as to say I did what my own conscience convinced me, at the very
time I did it, was horribly unlawful, scandalous, and abominable.
But poverty was my snare, dreadful poverty! The misery I had been
in was great, such as would make the heart tremble at the apprehensions
of its return; and I might appeal to any that has had any experience of
the world, whether one so entirely destitute as I was of all manner of all
helps or friends, either to support me or to assist me to support myself,
could withstand the proposal; not that I plead this as a justification of
my conduct, but that it may move the pity even of those that abhor
the crime.
Besides this, I was young, handsome, and, with all the mortifications I
had met with, was vain, and that not a little ; and, as it was a new thing,
so it was a pleasant thing to be courted, caressed, embraced, and high
professions of affection made to me, by a man so agreeable and so able
to do me good.
Add to this that, if I had ventured to disoblige this gentleman, I had
no friend in the world to have recourse to ; I had no prospect — no, not
of a bit of bread ; I had nothing before me but to fall back into the same
misery that I had been in before.
Amy had but too much rhetoric in this cause ; she represented all those
things in their proper colours; she argued them all with her utmost skill;
and at last the merry jade, when she came to dress me, 'Look ye, madam',
said she, 'if you won't consent, tell him you will do as Rachel did to
Jacob, when she could have no children — put her maid to bed to him;
tell him you cannot comply with him, but there's Amy, he may ask her
the question; she has promised me she won't deny you.'
•Aad would you have me say so, Amy? ' said L
2l6 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
•No, madam; but I would really have you do so. Besides, you are
undone if you do not; and, if my doing it would save you from being
undone, as I said before, he shall, if he will ; if he asks me, I won't deny
him, not I ; hang me if I do ', says Amy.
'Well, I know not what to do', says I to Amy.
'Do!' says Amy. 'Your choice is fair and plain. Here you may have
a handsome, charming gentleman, be rich, live pleasantly and in plenty,
or refuse him, and want a dinner, go in rags, live in tears ; in short, beg
and starve. Yon know this is the case, madam', says Amy. 'I wonder
how you can say you know not what to do.'
' Well, Amy ', says I, ' the case is as you say, and I think verily I must
yield to him; but then', said I, moved by conscience, 'don't talk any more
of your cant of its being lawful that I ought to marry again, and that he
ought to marry again, and such stuff as that; 'tis all nonsense', says I,
'Amy, there's nothing in it; let me hear no more of that, for, if I yield,
'tis in vain to mince the matter, I am a whore, Amy ; neither better nor
worse, I assure you.,'
'I don't think so, madam, by no means', says Amy. 'I wonder how
you can talk so ' ; and then she run on with her argument of the unreason
ableness that a woman should be obliged to live single, or a man to live
single, in such cases as before. • Well, Amy ', said I, ' come, let us dispute
no more, for the longer I enter into that part, the greater my scruples will
be ; but, if I let it alone, the necessity of my present circumstances is such
that I believe I shall yield to him, if he should importune me much
about it; but I should be glad he would not do it at all, but
leave me as I am.'
'As to that, madam, yon may depend', says Amy, 'he expects to have
you for his bedfellow to-night. I saw it plainly in his management all
day; and at last he told you so too, as plain, I think, as he could.'
'Well, well, Amy', said I, 'I don't know what to say; if he will, he must,
I think; I don't know how to resist such a man, that has done so much
for me/ 'I don't know how you should', says Amy.
Thus Amy and I canvassed the business between us ; the jade prompted
the crime which I had but too much inclination to commit, that is to say,
not as a crime, for I had nothing of the vice in my constitution; my
spirits were far from being high, my blood had no fire in it to kindle the
flame of desire ; but the kindness and good humour of the man and the
dread of my own circumstances concurred to bring me to the point, and
I even resolved, before he asked, to give up my virtue to him whenever
he should put it to the question.
In this I was a double offender, whatever he was, for I was resolved
to commit the crime, knowing and owning it to be a crime ; he, if it was
true as he said, was fully persuaded it was lawful, and in that persuasion
he took the measures and used all the circumlocutions which I am going
to speak of.
About two hours after he was gone, came a Leadenhall basket-woman,
with a whole load of good things for the mouth (the particulars are not
to the purpose), and brought orders to get supper by eight o'clock. How
ever, I did not intend to begin to dress anything till I saw him ; and he
gave me time enough, for he came before seven, so that Amy, who had
gotten one to help her, got everything ready in time.
We sat down to supper about eight, and were indeed very merry. Amy
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 21 7
made us some sport, for she was a girl of spirit and wit, and with her
talk she made us laugh very often, and yet the jade managed her wit with
all the good manners imaginable.
But to shorten the story. After supper he took me up into his chamber,
where Amy had made a good fire, and there he pulled out a great many
papers, and spread them upon a little table, and then took me by the
hand, and, after kissing me very much, he entered into a discourse of his
circumstances and of mine, how they agreed in several things exactly; for
example, that I was abandoned of a husband in the prime of my youth
and vigour, and he of a wife in his middle age; how the end of marriage
was destroyed by the treatment we had either of us received, and it would
be very hard that we should be tied by the formality of the contract where
the essence of it was destroyed. I interrupted him, and told him there
was a vast difference between our circumstances, and that in the most
essential part, namely, that he was rich and I was poor; that he
was above the world, and I infinitely below it; that his circumstances
were very easy, mine miserable, and this was an inequality the most
essential that could be imagined. 'As to that, my dear', says he, 'I have
taken such measures as shall make an equality still ' ; and with that he
showed me a contract in writing, wherein he engaged himself to me to
cohabit constantly with me, to provide for me in all respects as a wife,
and, repeating in the preamble a long account of the nature and reason
of our living together, and an obligation in the penalty of £7000 never
to abandon me; and at last showed me a bond for £500, to be paid to
me, or to my assigns, within three months after his death.
He read over all these things to me, and then, in a most moving,
affectionate manner, and in words not to be answered, he said, 'Now, my
dear, is this not sufficient? Can you object anything against it? If not,
as I believe you will not, then let us debate this matter no longer.' With
that he pulled out a silk purse, which had threescore guineas in it,
and threw them into my lap, and concluded all the rest of his discourse
with kisses and protestations of his love, of which indeed I had
abundant proof.
Pity human frailty, you that read of a woman reduced in her youth and
prime to the utmost misery and distress, and raised again, as above, by
the unexpected and surprising bounty of a stranger ; I say, pity her if she
was not able, after all these things, to make any more resistance.
However, I stood out a little longer still. I asked him how he could expect
that I could come into a proposal of such consequence the very first time it was
moved to me; and that I ought, if I consented to it, to capitulate with
him that he should never upbraid me with easiness and consenting too
soon. He said no; but, on the contrary, he would take it as a mark of
the greatest kindness I could show him. Then he went on to give reasons
why there was no occasion to use the ordinary ceremony of delay, or to
wait a reasonable time of courtship, which was only to avoid scandal;
but, as this was private, it had nothing of that nature in it; that he had
been courting me some time by the best of courtship, viz. doing acts of
kindness to me; and that he had given testimonies of his sincere affection
to me by deeds, not by flattering trifles and the usual courtship of words,
which were often found to have very little meaning; that he took me,
not as a mistress, but as his wife, and protested it was clear to him he
might lawfully do it, and that I was perfectly at liberty, and assured me,
21 8 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
by all that it was possible for an honest man to say, that he would treat
me as his wife as long as he lived. In a word, he conquered all the
little resistance I intended to make; he protested he loved me above all
the world, and begged I would for once believe him; that he had never
deceived me, and never would, but would make it his study to make my
life comfortable and happy, and to make me forget the misery I had gone
through, I stood still a while, and said nothing; but, seeing him eager
for my answer, I smiled, and looking up at him, 'And must I, then',
says I, 'say yes at first asking? Must I depend upon your promise?
Why, then ', said I, ' upon the faith of that promise, and in the sense of
that inexpressible kindness you have shown me, you shall be obliged, and
I will be wholly yours to the end of my life'; and with that I took his
hand, which held me by the hand, and gave it a kiss.
And thuj, in gratitude for the favours I received from a man, was all
sense of religion and duty to God, all regard to virtue and honour, given
up at once, and we were to call one another man and wife, who, in the
sense of the laws both of God and our country, were no more than two
adulterers ; in short, a whore and a rogue. Nor, as I have said above,
was my conscience silent in it, though it seems his was; for I sinned
with open eyes, and thereby had a double guilt upon me. As I always
said, his notions were of another kind, and he either was before of the
opinion, or argued himself into it now, that we were both free and might
lawfully marry.
But I was quite or another side — nay, and my judgment was right, but
my circumstances were my temptation; the terrors behind me looked blacker
than the terrors before me; and the dreadful argument of wanting bread,
and being run into the horrible distresses I was in before, mastered all
my resolution, and I gave myself up as above.
The rest of the evening we spent very agreeably to me ; he was perfectly
good-humoured, and was at that time very merry. Then he made Amy
dance with him, and I told I would put Amy to bed to him. Amy said,
with all her heart ; she never had been a bride in her life. In short, he
made the girl so merry that, had he not been to lie with me the same
night, I believe he would have played the fool with Amy for half-an-hour,
and the girl would no more have refused him than I intended to do. Yet,
before, I had always found her a very modest wench as any I ever saw
in all my life; but, in short, the mirth of that night, and a few more such
afterwards, ruined the girl's modesty for ever, as shall appear by-and-by,
in its place.
So far does fooling and toying sometimes go that I know nothing a
young woman has to be more cautious of; so far had this innocent girl
gone in jesting between her and I, and in talking that she would let him
lie with her, if he would but be kinder to me, that at last she let him lie
with her in earnest; and, so empty was I now of all principle, that I
encouraged the doing it almost before my face.
I say but too justly that I was empty of principle, because, as above,
I had yielded to him, not as deluded to believe it lawful, but as overcome
by his kindness, and terrified at the fear of my own misery if he should
leave me. So, with my eyes open, and with my conscience, as I may say,
awake, I sinned, knowing it to be a sin but having no power to resist.
When this had thus made a hole in my heart, and I was come to such a
height as to transgress against the light of my own conscience, I was then
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 2IQ
fit for any wickedness, and conscience left off speaking where it found it
could not be heard.
But to return to our story. Having 'consented, as above, to his proposal,
we had not much more to do. He gave me my writings, and the bond
for my maintenance during his life and for five hundred pounds after his
death. And, so far was he from abating his affection to me afterwards,
that two years after we were thus, as he called it, married, he made his
will, and gave me a thousand pounds more, and all my household stuff,
plate, &c., which was considerable too.
Amy put us to bed, and my new friend — I cannot call him husband —
was so well pleased with Amy for her fidelity and kindness to me that
he paid her all the arrear of her wages that I owed her, and gave her
five guineas over; and, had it gone no farther, Amy had richly deserved
what she had, for never was a maid so true to her mistress in such
dreadful circumstances as I was in. Nor was what followed more her
own fault than mine, who led her almost into it at first, and quite into
it at last; and this may be a farther testimony what a hardness of crime
I was now arrived to, which was owing to the conviction, that was from
the beginning upon me, that I was a whore, not a wife ; nor could I ever
frame my mouth to call him husband or to say 'my husband' when I
was speaking of him.
We lived, surely, the most agreeable life, the grand exception only
excepted, that ever two lived together. He was the most obliging, gentle
manly man, and the most tender of me, that ever woman gave herself up
to. Nor was there ever the least interruption to our mutual kindness, no,
not to the last day of his life. But I must bring Amy's disaster in at
once, that I may have done with her.
Amy was dressing me one morning, for now I had two maids, and Amy
was my chambermaid. 'Dear madam', says Amy, 'whatl a'nt you with
child yet?' 'No, Amy', says I; 'nor any sign of it.'
'Law, madam!', says Amy, 'what have you been doing? Why, you
have been married a year and a half. I warrant you master would have
got me with child twice in that time.' 'It may be so, Amy', says I. 'Let
him try, can't you?' 'No', says Amy; 'you'll forbid it now. Before, I
told you he should, with all my heart; but I won't now, now he's all
your own.' ' Oh ', says I, ' Amy, I'll freely give you my consent. It will
be nothing at alL to me. Nay, I'll put you to bed to him myself one
night or other, if you are willing.' 'No, madam, no', says Amy, 'not
now he's yours.'
'Why, you fool you', says I, 'don't I tell you I'll put you to bed to
him myself?' 'Nay, nay', says Amy, 'if you put me to bed to him, that's
another case; I believe I shall not rise again very soon.' 'I'll venture
that, Amy', says I.
After supper that night, and before we were risen from table, I said to
him, Amy being by, ' Hark ye, Mr , do you know that you are to lie
with Amy to-night?' 'No, not I', says he; but turns to Amy, 'Is it so, Amy?'
says he. 'No, sir', says she. 'Nay, don't say no, you fool; did not I pro
mise to put you to bed to him?' But the girl said 'No' still, and it passed off.
At night, when we came to go to bed, Amy came into the chamber to
undress me, and her master slipped into bed first; then I began, and told
him all that Amy had said about my not being with child, and of her
being with child fcwice in that time. 'Ay, Mrs. Amy', says he. 'I believe
220 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
so too. Come hither, and we'll try.' But Amy did not go. 'Go, you
fool', says I, 'can't you? I freely give you both leave.' But Amy would
not go. ' Nay, you whore ', says I, ' you said, if I would put you to bed,
you would with all your heart.' And with that I sat her down, pulled off
her stockings and shoes, and all her clothes piece by piece, and led her
to the bed to him. 'Here', says 1, 'try what you can do with your maid
Amy.' She pulled back a little, would not let me pull off her clothes at
first, but it was hot weather, and she had not many clothes on, and parti
cularly no stays on; and at last, when she saw I was in earnest, she let
me do what I would. So I fairly stripped her, and then I threw open the
bed and thrust her in.
I need say no more. This is enough to convince anybody that I did
not think him my husband, and that I had cast off all principle and all
modesty, and had effectually stifled conscience.
Amy, I dare say, began now to repent, and would fain have got out of
bed again ; but he said to her, ' Nay, Amy, you see your mistress has put
you to bed ; 'tis all her doing ; you must blame her.' So he held her fast,
and, the wench being naked in the bed with him, it was too late to look
back, so she lay still and let him do what he would with her.
Had I looked upon myself as a wife, you cannot suppose I would have
been willing to have let my husband lie with my maid, much less before
my face, for I stood by all the while; but, as I thought myself a whore,
I cannot say but that it was something designed in my thoughts that my
maid should be a whore too, and should not reproach me with it.
Amy, however, less vicious than I, was grievously out of sorts the next
morning, and cried and took on most vehemently, that she was ruined
and undone, and there was no pacifying her; she was a whore, a slut,
and she was undone ! undone ! and cried almost all day. I did all I could
to pacify her. ' A whore ! ' says I. ' Well, and am not I a whore as well
as you?' 'No, no', says Amy; 'no, you are not, for you are married.'
'Not I, Amy', says I; 'I do not pretend to it. He may marry you to
morrow, if he will, for anything I could do to hinder it I am not married.
I do not look upon it as anything.' Well, all did not pacify Amy, but
she cried two or three days about it; but it wore off by degrees.
But the case differed between Amy and her master exceedingly ; for Amy
retained the same kind temper she always had ; but, on the contrary, he
was quite altered, for he hated her heartily, and could, I believe, have
killed her after it, and he told me so, for he thought this a vile action;
whereas what he and I had done he was perfectly easy in, thought it just,
and esteemed me as much his wife as if we had been married from our
youth, and had neither of us known any other; nay, he loved me, I
believe, as entirely as if I had been the wife of his youth. Nay, he told
me it was true, in one sense, that he had two wives, but that I was the
wife of his affection, the other the wife of his aversion.
I was extremely concerned at the aversion he had taken to my maid
Amy, and used my utmost skill to get it altered; for, though he had
indeed debauched the wench, I knew that I was the principal occasion of
it; and, as he was tbe best-humoured man in the world, I never gave him
over till I prevailed with him to be easy with her, and, as I was now
become the devil's agent to make others as wicked as myself, I brought
him to lie with her again several times after that, till at last, as the poor
girl said, so it happened, and she was really with child.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 221
She was terribly concerned at it, and so was he too. 'Come, my dear',
says I, ' when Rachel put her handmaid to bed to Jacob, she took the
children as her own. Don't be uneasy; I'll take the child as my own.
Had not I a hand in the frolic of putting her to bed to you ? It was my
fault as much as yours.' So 1 called Amy, and encouraged her too, and
told her that I would take care of the child and her too, and added the
same argument to her. ' For ', says I, ' Amy, it was all my fault. Did not
I drag your clothes off your back, and put you to bed to him ? ' Thus I,
that had, indeed, been the cause of all the wickedness between them,
encouraged them both, when they had any remorse about it, and rather
prompted them to go on with it than to repent it.
When Amy grew big she went to a place I had provided for her, and
the neighbours knew nothing but that Amy and I was parted. She had
a fine child indeed, a daughter, and we had it nursed; and Amy came
again in about half a year to live with her old mistress; but neither my
gentleman, or Amy either, cared for playing that game over again; for,
as he said, the jade might bring him a houseful of children to keep.
We lived as merrily and as happily after this as could be expected,
considering our circumstances; I mean as to the pretended marriage, etc.;
and as to that, my gentleman had not the least concern about him for it.
But, as much as I was hardened, and that was as much as I believe ever
any wicked creature was, yet I could not help it, there was and would be
hours of intervals and of dark reflections which came involuntarily in, and
thrust in sighs into the middle of all my songs ; and there would be
sometimes a heaviness of heart which intermingled itself with all my joy,
and which would often fetch a tear from my eye. And, let others pretend
what they will, I believe it impossible to be otherwise with anybody.
There can be no substantial satisfaction in a life of known wickedness;
conscience will, and does often, break in upon them at particular times,
let them do what they can to prevent it.
But I am not to preach, but to relate; and whatever loose reflections
were, and how often soever those dark intervals came on, I did my utmost
to conceal them from him; ay, and to suppress and smother them too in
myself; and, to outward appearance, we lived as cheerfully and agreeably
as it was possible for any couple in the world to live.
After I had thus lived with him something above two years, truly I
found myself with child too. My gentleman was mightily pleased at it,
and nothing could be kinder than he was in the preparations he made for
me, and for my lying-in, which was, however, very private, because I cared
for as little company as possible; nor had I kept up my neighbourly
acquaintance, so that I had nobody to invite upon such an occasion.
I was brought to bed very well (of a daughter too, as well as Amy),
but the child died at about six weeks old, so all that work was to do over
again— that is to say, the charge, the expense, the travail, &c.
The next year I made him amends, and brought him a son, to his
great satisfaction. It was a charming child, and did very well. After this,
my husband, as he called himself, came to me one evening, and told me
he had a very difficult thing happened to him, which he knew not what
to do in, or how to resolve about, unless I would make him easy; this
was, that his occasions required him to go over to France for about
two months.
•Well, my dear', says I, 'and how shall I make you easy?'
222 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
'Why, by consenting to let me go', says he; 'upon which condition,
I'll tell you the occasion of my going, that you may judge of the necessity
there is for it on my side.' Then, to make me easy in his going, he told
me he would make his will before he went, which should be to my full
satisfaction.
I told him the last part was so kind that I could not decline the first
Eart, unless he would give me leave to add that, if it was not for putting
im to an extraordinary expense, I would go over along with him.
He was so pleased with this offer that he told me he would give me full
satisfaction for it, and accept of it too; so he took me to London with
him the next day, and there he made his will, and showed it to me, and
sealed it before proper witnesses, and then gave it to me to keep. In
this will he gave a thousand pounds to a person that we both knew very
well, in trust, to pay it, with the interest from the time of his decease, to
me or my assigns ; then he willed the payment of my jointure, as he called
it, viz., his bond of five hundred pounds after his death; also, he gave me
all my household stuff, plate, &c.
This was a most engaging thing for a man to do to one under my
circumstances; and it would have been hard, as I told him, to deny him/
anything, or to refuse to go with him anywhere. So we settled everything
as well as we could, left Amy in charge with the house, and for his other
business, which was in jewels, he had two men he intrusted, who he had
good security for, and who managed for him, and corresponded with him.
Things being thus concerted, we went away to France, arrived safe at
Calais, and by easy journeys came in eight days more to Paris, where we
lodged in the house of an English merchant of his acquaintance, and vras
very courteously entertained.
My gentleman's business was with some persons of the first rank, and
to whom he had sold some jewels of very good value, and received a
great sum of money in specie; and, as he told me privately, he gained
three thousand pistoles by his bargain, but would not suffer the most
intimate friend he had there to know what he had received; for it is not
so safe a thing in Paris to have a great sum of money in keeping as it
might be in London.
We made this journey much longer than we intended, and my gentleman
sent for one of his managers in London to come over to us in Paris with
some diamonds, and sent him back to London again to fetch more. Then
other business fell into his hands so unexpectedly that I began to think
we should take up our constant residence there, which I was not very
averse to, it being my native country, and I spoke the language perfectly
well. So we took a good house in Paris, and lived very well there; and
I sent for Amy to come over to me, for I lived gallantly, and my gentleman
was two or three times going to keep me a coach, but I declined it.
especially at Paris, but as they have those conveniences by the day there,
at a certain rate, I had an equipage provided for me whenever I pleased,
and I lived here in a very good figure, and might have lived higher if
I pleased.
But in the middle of all this felicity a dreadful disaster befell me, which
entirely unhinged all my affairs, and threw me back into the same state
of life that I was in before; with this one happy exception, however,
that, whereas before I was poor, even to misery, now I was not only
provided for, but very rich.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 223
i •
My gentleman had the name in Paris for a rich man, and indeed h«
was so, though not so immensely rich as people imagined ; but that which
was fatal to him was, that he generally carried a shagreen case in his
pocket, especially when he went to court, or to the houses of any of the
princes of the blood, in which he had jewels of very great value.
It happened one day that, being to go to Versailles to wait upon the
Prince of , he came up into my chamber in the morning, and laid
out his jewel-case, because he was not going to show any jewels, but to
get a foreign bill accepted, which he had received from Amsterdam; so,
when he gave me the case, he said, 'My dear, I think I need not carry
this with me, because it may be I may not come back till night, and it
is too much to venture.' I returned, 'Then, my dear, you shan't go.'
' Why ? ' says he. ' Because, as they are too much for you, so you are too
much for me to venture, and you shall not go, unless you will promise
me not to stay so as to come back in the night
'I hope there's no danger', said he, 'seeing that I have nothing about
me of any value ; and therefore, lest I should, take that too ', says he, and
gives me his gold watch and a rich diamond which he had in a ring, and
always wore on his finger.
'Well, but, my dear', says I, 'you make me more uneasy now than
before ; for if you apprehend no danger, why do you use this caution ? and
if you apprehend there is danger, why do you go at all?'
'There is no danger', says he, 'if I do not stay late, and I do not
design to do so.'
'Well, but promise me, then, that you won't', says I, 'or else I
cannot let you go.'
*I won't indeed, my dear', says he, 'unless I am obliged to it. I assure
you I do not intend it ; but, if I should, I am not worth robbing now, for
I have nothing about me but about six pistoles in my little purse and
that little ring', showing me a small diamond ring, worth about ten or
twelve pistoles, which he put upon his finger, in the room of the
rich one he usually wore.
I still pressed him not to stay late, and he said he would not. 'But u
I am kept late ', says he, beyond my expectation, I'll stay all night, and
come next morning.' This seemed a very good caution ; but still my mind
was very uneasy about him, and I told him so, and entreated him not to
go. I told him I did not know what might be the reason, but that I had
a strange terror upon my mind about his going, and that if he did go, I
was persuaded some harm would attend him. He smiled, and returned,
' Well, my dear, if it should be so, you are now richly provided for ; all
that I have here, I give to you.' And with that he takes up the casket
or case, ' Here ', says he, ' hold your hand ; there is a good estate for you
in this case; if anything happens to me 'tis all your own. I give it you
for yourself ; and with that he put the casket, the fine ring, and his gold
watch all into my hands, and the key of his scrutoire besides, adding,
'And in my scrutoire there is some money-, it is all your own.'
I stared at him as if I was frighted, for I thought all his face looked
like a death's-head ; and then immediately I thought I perceived his head
all bloody, and then his clothes looked bloody too, and immediately it all
went off, and he looked as he really did. Immediately I fell a-crying, and
hung about him. 'My dear', said I, 'I am frighted to death; you shall
not go. Depend upon it some mischief will befall you.' I did not tell
224 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
him how my vapourish fancy had represented him to me ; that, I thought,
was not proper. Besides, he would only have laughed at me, and would
have gone away with a jest about it; but I pressed him seriously not to
go that day, or, if he did, to promise me to come home to Paris again
by daylight. He looked a little graver then than he did before, told me
he was not apprehensive of the least danger, but if there was, he would
either take care to come in the day, or, as he had said before, would
stay all night.
But all these promises came to nothing, for he was set upon in the open
day, and robbed by three men on horseback, masked, as he went ; and one of
them, who, it seems, rifled him while the rest stood to stop the coach, stabbed
him into the body with a sword, so that he died immediately. He had
a footman behind the coach, who they knocked down with the stock or
butt-end of a carbine. They were supposed to kill him because of the
disappointment they met with in not getting his case or casket of diamonds,
which they knew he carried about him; and this was supposed because,
after they had killed him, they made the coachman drive out of the road
a long way over the heath, till they came to a convenient place, where
they pulled him out of the coach and searched his clothes more narrowly
than they could do while he was alive. But they found nothing but his
little ring, six pistoles, and the value of about seven livres in small moneys.
This was a dreadful blow to me, though I cannot say I was so surprised
as I should otherwise have been, for all the while he was gone my mind
was oppressed with the weight of my own thoughts, and I was as sure
that I should never see him any more that I think nothing could be like
it. The impression was so strong that I think nothing could make so
deep a wound that was imaginary ; and I was so dejected and disconsolate
that, when I received the news of his disaster, there was no room for any
extraordinary alteration in me. I had cried all that day, ate nothing, and
only waited, as I might say, to receive the dismal news, which I had
brought to me about five o'clock in the afternoon.
I was in a strange country, and, though I had a pretty many acquain
tances, had but very few friends that I could consult on this occasion.
All possible inquiry was made after the rogues that had been thus
barbarous, but nothing could be heard of them; nor was it possible that
the footman could make any discovery of them by his description, for they
knocked him down immediately, so that he knew nothing of what was
done afterwards. The coachman was the only man that could say anything,
and all his account amounted to no more than this, that one of them had
soldier's clothes, but he could not remember the particulars of his mounting,
so as to know what regiment he belonged to; and as to their faces, that
he could know nothing of, because they had all of them masks on,
I had him buried as decently as the place would permit a Protestant
stranger to be buried, and made some of the scruples and difficulties on
that account easy by the help of money to a certain person, who went
impudently to the curate of the parish of St Sulpitius, in Paris, and told
him that the gentleman that was killed was a Catholic; that the thieves
had taken from him a cross of gold, set with diamonds, worth six thousand
livres ; that his widow was a Catholic, and had sent by him sixty crowns
to the church of , for masses to be said for the repose of his soul.
Upon all which, though not one word was true, he was buried with all
the ceremonies of the Roman Church.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 22 5
I think I almost cried myself to death for him, for I abandoned myself
to all the excesses of grief j and indeed I loved him to a degree inexpress
ible; and considering what kindness he had shown me at first, and how
tenderly he had used me to the last, what could I do less ?
Then the manner of his death was terrible and frightful to me, and,
above all, the strange notices I had of it. I had never pretended to the
secondsight, or anything of that kind, but certainly, if any one ever had
such a thing, I had it at this time, for I saw him as plainly in all those
terrible shapes as above; first, as a skeleton, not dead only, but rotten
and wasted; secondly, as killed, and his face bloody; and, thirdly, his
clothes bloody, and all within the space of one minute, or indeed of a
very few moments.
These things amazed me, and I was a good while as one stupid. How
ever, after some time I began to recover, and look into my affairs. I had
the satisfaction not to be left in distress, or in danger of poverty. On the
; contrary, besides what he had put into my hands fairly in his lifetime,
: which amounted to a very considerable value, I found above seven hundred
Fistoles in gold in his scrutoire, of which he had given me the key; and
found foreign bills accepted for about twelve thousand livres ; so that,
in a word, I found myself possessed of almost ten thousand pounds
sterling in a very few days after the disaster.
The first thing I did upon this occasion was to send a letter to my
maid, as I still called her, Amy, wherein I gave her an account of my
disaster, how my husband, as she called him (for I never called him so),
was murdered ; and as I did not know how his relations, or his wife's
friends might act upon that occasion, I ordered her to convey away all
' the plate, linen, and other things of value, and to secure them in a person's
hand that I directed her to, and then to sell or dispose of the furniture,
of the house, if she could, and so, without acquainting anybody with the
reason of her going, withdraw ; sending notice to his head manager at
London that the house was quitted by the tenant, and they might come
and take possession of it for the executors. Amy was so dexterous, and
did her work so nimbly, that she gutted the house, and sent the key to
the said manager, almost as soon as he had notice of the misfortune that
befell their master.
Upon their receiving the surprising news of his death, the head manager
came over to Paris, and came to the house. I made no scruple of calling
myself Madame , the widow of Monsieur , the English jeweller.
And, as I spoke French naturally, I did not let him know but that I was
his wife, married in France, and that I had not heard that he had any
wife in England, but pretended to be surprised, and exclaim against him
for so base an action; and that I had good friends in Poictou, where I
was born, who would take care to have justice done me in England out
of his estate.
I should have observed that, as soon as the news was public of a man
being murdered, and that he was a jeweller, fame did me the favour as
to publish presently that he was robbed of his casket of jewels, which he
always carried about him. I confirmed this, among my daily lamentations
.for his disaster, and added that he had with him a fine diamond ring,
which he was known to wear frequently about him, valued at one hundred
pistoles, a gold watch, and a great quantity of diamonds of inestimable
yalue in his casket, which jewels he was carrying to the Prince of ~,
'5
226 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
to show some of them to him ; and the prince owned that he had spoken
to him to bring some such jewels, to let him see them. But I sorely
repented this part afterward, as you shall hear.
This rumour put an end to all inquiry after his jewels, his ring, or his
•watch ; and as for the seven hundred pistoles, that I secured. For the bills
which were in hand, I owned I had them, but that, as I said I brought
my husband thirty thousand livres portion, I claimed the said bills, which
came to not above twelve thousand livres, for my amende, and this, with
the plate and the household stuff, was the principal of all his estate which
they could come at. As to the foreign bill which he was going to Versailles
to get accepted, it was really lost with him; but his manager, who had
remitted the bill to him, by way of Amsterdam, bringing over the second
bill, the money was saved, as they call it, which would otherwise have
been also gone; the thieves who robbed and murdered him were, to be
sure, afraid to send anybody to get the bill accepted, for that would
undoubtedly have discovered them.
By this time my maid Amy was arrived, and she gave me an account
of her management, and how she had secured everything, and that she
had quitted the house, and sent the key to the head manager of his
business, and let me know how much she had made of everything very
punctually and honestly.
I should have observed, in the account of his dwelling with me so long
at , that he never passed for anything there but a lodger in the house;
and though he was landlord, that did not alter the case. So that at his
death, Amy coming to quit the house and give them the key, there was
no affinity between that and the case of their master who was newly killed.
I got good advice at Paris from an eminent lawyer, a counsellor of the
Parliament there, and laying my case before him, he directed me to make
a process in dower upon the estate, for making good my new fortune upon
matrimony, which accordingly I did; and, upon the whole, the manager
went back to England well satisfied that he had gotten the unaccepted bill
of exchange, which was for two thousand five hundred pounds, with some
other things, which together amounted to seventeen thousand iivres; and
thus I got rid of him.
I was visited with great civility on this sad occasion of the loss of my
husband, as they thought him, by a great many ladies of quality. And
the Prince of , to whom it was reported he was carrying the jewels,
sent his gentleman with a very handsome compliment of condolence to
me; and his gentleman, whether with or without order, hinted as if his
Highness did intend to have visited me himself, but that some accident,
which he made a long story of, had prevented him.
By the concourse of ladies and others that thus came to visit me, I
began to be much known; and as I did not forget to set myself out with
all possible advantage, considering the dress of a widow, which in those
days was a most frightful thing; I say, as T did thus from my own vanity,
for I was not ignorant that I was very handsome; I say, on this account
I was soon made very public, and was known by the name of La Belle
veufeu de Poictou, or the pretty widow of Poictou. As J was very well
pleased to see myself thus handsomely used in my affliction, it soon dried
up all my tears ; and though I appeared as a widow, yet, as we say in
England, it was of a widow comforted. I took care to let the ladies see
that I knew how to receive them; that I was not at a loss how to behave
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 22;
to any of them ; and, in short, I began to be very pofmlar there. But I
had an occasion afterwards which made me decline that kind of management,
as you shall hear presently.
About four days after I had received the compliments of condolence
from the Prince , the same gentleman he had sent before came to tell
me that his Highness was coming to give me a visit. I was indeed sur
prised at that, and perfectly at a loss how to behave. However, as there
was no remedy, I prepared to receive him as well as I could. It was not
many minutes after but he was at the door, and came in, introduced by
his own gentleman, as above, and after by my woman, Amy.
He treated me with abundance of civility, and condoled handsomely on
the loss of my husband, and likewise the manner of it. He told me he
understood he was coming to Versailles to himself, to show him some
jewels ; that it was true that he had discoursed with him about jewels, but
could not imagine how any villains should hear of his coming at that time
with them ; that he had not ordered him to attend with them at Versailles,
but told him that he would come to Paris by such a day, so that he was
no way accessory to the disaster. I told him gravely I knew very well
that all his Highness had said of that part was true; that these villains
knew his profession, and knew, no doubt, that he always carried a casket
of jewels about him, and that he always wore a diamond ring on his finger
worth a hundred pistoles, which report had magnified to five hundred ; and
that, if he had been going to any other place, it would have been the same
thing. After this his Highness rose up to go, and told me he had resolved,
however, to make me some reparation ; and with these words put a silk
purse into my hand with a hundred pistoles, and told me he would make
me a farther compliment of a small pension, which his gentleman would
inform me of.
You may be sure I behaved with a due sense of so much goodness,
and offered to kneel to kiss his hand ; but he took me up and saluted
me, and sat down again (though before he made as if he was going away),
making me sit down by him.
He then began to talk with me more familiarly; told me he hoped I
was not left in bad circumstances ; that Mr was reputed to be very
rich, and that he had gained lately great sums by some jewels, and he
hoped, he said, that I had still a fortune agreeable to the condition I had
lived in before.
I replied, with some tears, which, I confess, were a little forced, that
I believed, if Mr had lived, we should have been out of danger of
want, but that it was impossible to estimate the loss which I had sustained,
besides that of the life of my husband ; that, by the opinion of those that
knew something of his affairs, and of what value the jewels were which
he intended to have shown to his Highness, he could not have less about
him than the value of a hundred thousand livres; that it was a fatal blow
to me, and to his whole family, especially that they should be lost in
such a manner.
His Highness returned, with an air of concern, that he was very sorry
for it ; but he hoped, if I settled in Paris, I might find ways to restore
my fortune; at the same time he complimented me upon my being very
handsome, as he was pleased to call it, and that I could not fail of
admirers. I stood up and humbly thanked his Highness, but told him I
had no expectations of that kind; that I thought I should be obliged to
22$ THE LIFE OF ROXANA
go over to England, to look after my husband's effects there, which, I was
told, were considerable, but that I did not know what justice a poor stranger
would get among them; and, as for Paris, my fortune being so impaired,
I saw nothing before me but to go back to Poictou to my friends, where
some of my relations, I hoped, might do something for me, and added
that one of my brothers was an abbot at , near Poictiers.
He stood up, and taking me by the hand, led me to a large looking-
glass, which made up the pier in the front of the parlour. 'Look there,
madam', said he; 'is it fit that that face' (pointing to my figure in the
glass) 'should go back to Poictou? No, madam' says he; 'stay and make
some gentleman of quality happy, that may, in return, make you forget all
your sorrows'; and with that he took me in his arms, and kissing me
twice, told me he would see me again, but with less ceremony.
Some little time after this, but the same day, his gentleman came to me
again, and with great ceremony and respect, delivered me a black box tied
with a scarlet riband and sealed with a noble coat-of-arms, which, I sup
pose, was the prince's.
There was in it a grant from his Highness, or an assignment — I know
not which to call it — with a warrant to his banker to pay me two thousand
livres a year during my stay in Paris, as the widow of Monsieur , the
jeweller, mentioning the horrid murder of my late husband as the occasion
of it, as above.
I received it with great submission, and expressions of being infinitely
obliged to his master, and of my showing myself on all occasions his
Highness's most obedient servant; and after giving my most humble duty
to his Highness, with the utmost acknowledgments of the obligation, etc.,
I went to a little cabinet, and taking out some money, which made a little
sound in taking it out, offered to give him five pistoles.
He drew back, but with the greatest respect, and told me he humbly
thanked me, but that he durst not take a farthing; that his Highness
would take it so ill of him, he was sure he would never see his face
more ; but that he would not fail to acquaint his Highness what respect I
had offered ; and added, ' I assure you, madam, you are more in the good
graces of my master, the Prince of , than you are aware of; and I
believe you will hear more of him,'
Now I began to understand him, and resolved, if his Highness did
come again, he should see me under no disadvantages, if I could help it.
I told him, if his Highness did me the honour to see me again, I hoped
he would not let me be so surprised as I was before; that I would be
glad to have some little notice of it, and would be obliged to him if he
would procure it me. He told me he was very sure that, when his
Highness intended to visit me, he should be sent before to give me notice
of it, and that he would give me as much warning of it as possible.
: He came several times after this on the same errand, that is, about the
settlement, the grant requiring several things yet to be done for making
it payable, without going every time to the prince again for a fresh war
rant. The particulars of this part I did not understand ; but as soon as it
was finished, which was above two months, the gentleman came one after
noon, and said his Highness designed to visit me in the evening, but
desired to be admitted without ceremony.
I prepared not my rooms only, but myself; and when he came in there
was nobody appeared in the house but his gentleman and my maid Amyj
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 22Q
and of her I bid the gentleman acquaint his Highness, that she was an
Englishwoman, that she did not understand a word of French, and that
she was one also that might be trusted.
When he came into my room, I fell down at his feet before he could
come to salute me, and with words that I had prepared, full of duty and
respect, thanked him for his bounty and goodness to a poor, desolate
woman, oppressed under the weight of so terrible a disaster; and refused
to rise till he would allow me the honour to kiss his hand.
' Levcz vous done', says the prince, taking me in his arms; 'I design
more favours for you than this trifle ' ; and going on, he added, ' You shall
for the future find a friend where you did not look for it, and I resolve
to let you see how kind I can be to one who is to me the most agreeable
creature on earth.'
I was dressed in a kind of half mourning, had turned off my weeds,
and my head, 'though I had yet no ribands or lace, was so dressed as
failed not to set me out with advantage enough, for I began to understand
his meaning; and the prince professed I was the most beautiful creature
on earth. ' And where have I lived ', says he, ' and how ill have I been
served, that I should never till now be showed the finest woman in France!'
This was the way in all the world the most likely to break in upon 'my
virtue, if I had been mistress of any; for I was now become the vainest
creature upon earth, and particularly of my beauty, which, as other people
admired, so I became every day more foolishly in love with myself than before.
He said some very kind things to me after this, and sat down with me
for an hour or more, when, getting up and calling his gentleman by his
name, he threw open the door: 'A boirc', says he; upon which his gentle
man immediately brought up a little table covered with a fine damask
cloth, the table no bigger than he could bring in his two hands, but upon
it was set two decanters, one of champagne and the other of water, six
silver plates, and a service of fine sweetmeats in fine china dishes, on a
set of rings standing up about twenty inches high, one above another.
Below was three roasted partridges and a quail. As soon as his gentle
man had set it all down, he ordered him to withdraw. 'Now', says the
prince, 'I intend to sup with you.'
When he sent away his gentleman, I stood up and offered to wait on
his Highness while he ate; but he positively refused, and told me, 'No;
to-morrow you shall be the widow of Monsieur , the jeweller, but to
night you shall be my mistress ; therefore sit here ', says he, ' and eat with
me, or I wilt get up and serve.'
I would then have called up my woman Amy, but I thought that would
not be proper neither; so I made my excuse, that since his Highness
would not let his own servant wait, I would not presume to let my woman
come up; but if he would please to let me wait, it would be my honour
to fill his Highness's wine. But, as before, he would by no means allow
me; so we sat and ate together.
' Now, madam ', says the prince, ' give me leave to lay aside my
character; let us talk together with the freedom of equals. My quality
sets me at a distance from you, and makes yon ceremonious. Your beauty
exalts you to more than an equality. I must, then, treat you as lovers do
their mistresses, but I cannot speak the language; it is enough to tell you
how agreeable you are to me, how I am surprised at your beauty, and
resolve to make you happy, and to be happy with you.'
23O THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I knew not what to say to him a good while, but blushed, and, looking
np towards him, said I was already made happy in the favour of a person
of such rank, and had nothing to ask of his Highness but that he would
believe me infinitely obliged.
After he had eaten, he poured the sweetmeats into my lap ; and the wine
being out, he called his gentleman again to take away the table, who, at
first, only took the cloth and the remains of what was to eat away; and,
laying another cloth, set the table on one side of the room, with a noble
service of plate upon it, worth at least two hundred pistoles. Then,
having set the two decanters again upon the table, filled as before, he
withdrew; for I found the fellow understood his business very well, and
his lord's business too.
About half-an-hour after, the prince told me that I offered to wait a
little before, that if I would now take the trouble he would give me leave
to give him some wine ; so I went to the table, filled a glass of wine, and
brought it to him on a fine salver, which the glasses stood on, and brought
the bottle or decanter for wa^er in my other hand, to mix as he thought fit.
He smiled, and bid me look on that salver, which I did, and admired
it much, for it was a very fine one indeed. 'You may see', says he, 'I
resolve to have more of your company, for my servant shall leave you that
plate for my use.' I told him I believed his Highness would not take it
ill that I was not furnished fit to entertain a person of his rank, and that
I would take great care of it, and value myself infinitely upon the honour
of his Highness's visit.
It now began to grow late, and he began to take notice of it. 'But',
says he, 'I cannot leave you; have you not a spare lodging for one night?'
I told him I had but a homely lodging to entertain such a guest. He
said something exceeding kind on that head, but not fit to repeat, adding
that my company would make him amends.
About midnight he sent his gentleman of an errand, after telling him
aloud that he intended to stay here all night. In a little time his gentle
man brought him a nightgown, slippers, two caps, a neckcloth, and shirt,
which he gave me to carry into his chamber, and sent his man home;
and then, turning to me, said I should do him the honour to be his cham
berlain of the household, and his dresser also. I smiled, and told him I
would do myself the honour to wait on him upon all occasions.
About one in the morning, while his gentleman was yet with him, I
begged leave to withdraw, supposing he would go to bed ; but he took
the hint, and said, 'I'm not going to bed yet; pray let me see you again.'
I took this time to undress me, and to come in a new dress, which was,
in a manner, u?u deshabille, but so fine, and all about me so clean and so
agreeable, that he seemed surprised. 'I thought', says he, 'you could not
have dressed to more advantage than you had done before ; but now ',
says he, 'you charm me a thousand times more, if that be possible,'
'It is only a loose habit, my lord', said I, 'that I may the better wait
on your Highness.' He pulls me to him. 'You are perfectly obliging',
says he; and, sitting on the bedside, says he, 'Now you shall be a prin
cess, and know what it is to oblige the gratefullest man alive'; and with
that he took me in his arms. ... I can go no farther in the particulars
of what passed at that time, but it ended in this, that, in short, I lay with
him all night
I have given you the whole detail of this story to lay it down as a black
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 23!
scheme of the way how unhappy women are ruined by great men; for,
though poverty and want is an irresistible temptation to the poor, vanity and
great things are as irresistible to others. To be courted by a prince, and by
a prince who was first a benefactor, then an admirer; to be called hand
some, the finest woman in France, and to be treated as a woman fit
for the bed of a prince — these are things a woman must have no vanity
in her, nay, no corruption in her, that is not overcome by it; and my
case was such that, as before, I had enough of both.
I had now no poverty attending me; on the contrary, I was mistress
of ten thousand pounds before the prince did anything for me. Had I
been mistress of my resolution, had I been less obliging, and rejected the
first attack, all had been safe; but my virtue was lost before, and the
devil, who had found the way to break in upon me by one temptation,
easily mastered me now by another; and I gave myself up to a person,
who, though a man of high dignity, was yet the most tempting and obliging
that ever I met with in my life.
I had the same particular to insist upon here with the prince that I had
with my gentleman before. I hesitated much at consenting at first asking,
but the prince told me princes did not court like other men ; that they
brought more powerful arguments; and he very prettily added that they
were sooner repulsed than other men, and ought to be sooner complied
with ; intimating, though very genteelly, that after a woman had positively
refused him once, he could not, like other men, wait with importunities
and stratagems, and laying long sieges; but as such men as he stormed
warmly, so, if repulsed, they made no second attacks ; and, indeed, it was
but reasonable; for, as it was below their rank to be long battering a
woman's constancy, so they ran greater hazards in being exposed in their
amours than other men did.
I took this for a satisfactory answer; and told his Highness that I had
the same thoughts in respect to the manner of his attacks ; for that his
person and his arguments were irresistible ; that a person of his rank and
a munificence so unbounded could not be withstood; that no virtue was
proof against him, except such as was able, too, to suffer martyrdom ; that
I thought it impossible I could be overcome, but that now I found it was
impossible I should not be overcome; that so much goodness, joined with
so much greatness, would have conquered a saint; and that I confessed
he had the victory over me, by a merit infinitely superior to the conquest
he had made.
He made me a most obliging answer; told me abundance of fine things,
which still flattered my vanity, till at last I began to have pride enough
to believe him, and fancied myself a fit mistress for a prince.
As I had thus given the prince the last favour, and he had all the
freedom with me that it was possible for me to grant, so he gave me
leave to use as much freedom with him another way, and that was to
have everything of him I thought fit to command; and yet I did not ask
of him with an air of avarice, as if I was greedily making a penny of
him, but I managed him with such art that he generally anticipated my
demands. He only requested of me that I would not think of taking
another house, as I had intimated to his Highness that I intended, not
thinking it good enough to receive his visits in; but he said my house
was the most convenient that could possibly be found in all Paris for an
amour, especially for him, having a way out into three streets, and not
232 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
overlooked by any neighbours, so that he could pass and repass without
observation ; for one of the back-ways opened into a narrow dark alley,
which alley was a thoroughfare or passage out of one street into another ;
and any person that went in or out by the door had no more to do but
to see that there was nobody following him in the alley before he went
in at the door. This request, I knew, was reasonable, and therefore I
assured him I would not change my dwelling, seeing his Highness did not
think it too mean for me to receive him in.
He also desired me that I would not take any more servants or set up
any equipage, at least for the present ; for that it would then be immediately
concluded I had been left very rich, and then I should be thronged with
the impertinence of admirers, who would be attracted by the money, as
well as by the beauty, of a young widow, and he should be frequently
interrupted in his visits; or that the world would conclude I was main
tained by somebody, and would be indefatigable to find out the person;
so that he should have spies peeping at him every time he went out or
in, which it would be impossible to disappoint; and that he should
presently have it talked over all the toilets in Paris, that the Prince
de had got the jeweller's widow for a mistress,
This was too just to oppose, and I made no scruple to tell his Highness
that, since he had stooped so low as to make me his own, he ought to
have all the satisfaction in the world that I was all his own; that I would
take all the measures he should please to direct me to avoid the impertinent
attacks of others; and that, if he thought fit, I would be wholly within
doors, and have it given out that I was obliged to go to England to solicit
my affairs there, after my husband's misfortune, and that I was not expected
there again for at least a year or two. This he liked very well; only he
said that he would by no means have me confined; that it would injure
my health, and that I should then take a country-house in some village,
a good way off of the city, where it should not be known who I was, and
that he should be there sometimes to divert me.
I made no scruple of the confinement, and told his Highness no place
could be a confinement where I had such a visitor, and so I put off the
country-house, which would have been to remove myself farther from him,
and have less of his company; so I made the house be, as it were, shut
up. Amy, indeed, appeared, and when any of the neighbours and servants
inquired, she answered, in broken French, that I was gone to England to
look after my affairs, which presently went current through the streets
about us. For you are to note that the people of Paris, especially the
women, are the most busy and impertinent inquirers into the conduct of
their neighbours, especially that of a single woman, that are in the world,
though there are no greater intriguers in the universe than themselves ; and
perhaps that may be the reason of it, for it is an old but a sure rule, that
When deep intrigues are close and shy,
The guilty are the first that spy.
Thus his Highness had the most easy, and yet the most undiscoverable,
access to me imaginable, and he seldom failed to come two or three nights
in a week, and sometimes stayed two or three nights together. Once he
told me he was resolved I should be weary of his company, and that he
would learn to know what it was to be a prisoner; so he gave out among
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 233
his servants that he was gone to , where he often went a-hunting,
and that he should not return under a fortnight; and that fortnight he
stayed wholly with me, and never went out of my doors.
Never woman in such a station lived a fortnight in so complete a fulness
of human delight; for, to have the entire possession of one of the most
accomplished princes in the world, and of the politest, best-bred man; to
converse with him all day, and, as he professed, charm him all night,
what could be more inexpressibly pleasing, and especially to a woman of
a vast deal of pride, as I was ?
To finish the felicity of this part, I must not forget that the devil had
played a new game with me, and prevailed with me to satisfy myself with
this amour, as a lawful thing; that a prince of such grandeur and majesty,
so infinitely superior to me, and one who had made such an introduction
by an unparalleled bounty, I could not resist; and, therefore, that it was
very lawful for me to do it, being at that time perfectly single, and
unengaged to any other man, as I was, most certainly, by the unaccountable
absence of my first husband, and the murder of my gentleman who went
for my second.
It cannot be doubted but that I was the easier to persuade myself of
the truth of such a doctrine as this, when it was so much for my ease
and for the repose of my mind to have it be so:
In things" we -wish, 'tis easy to deceive;
What we would have, we willingly believe.
• Besides, I had no casuists to resolve this doubt; the same devil that
put this into my head bade me go to any of the Romish clergy, and,
under the pretence of confession, state the case exactly, and I should see
they would either resolve it to be no sin at all, or absolve me upon the
easiest penance. This I had a strong inclination to try, but I know not
what scruple put me off of it, for I could never bring myself to like having
to do with those priests. And, though it was strange that I, who had thus
prostituted my chastity and given up all sense of virtue in two such
particular cases, living a life of open adultery, should scruple anything,
yet so it was. I argued with myself, that I could not be a cheat in anything
that was esteemed sacred; that I could not be of one opinion, and then
pretend myself to be of another ; nor could I go to confession, who knew
nothing of the manner of it, and should betray myself to the priest to be
a Huguenot, and then might come into trouble; but, in short, though I
was a whore, yet I was a Protestant whore, and could not act as if 1 was
Popish, upon any account whatsoever.
But, I say, I satisfied myself with the surprising occasion, that as it was
all irresistible, so it was all lawful; for that Heaven would not suffer us
to be punished for that which it was not possible for us to avoid ; and
with these absurdities I kept conscience from giving me any considerable
disturbance in all this matter; and I was as perfectly easy as to the lawful
ness of it as if I had been married to the prince, and had had no other
husband; so possible is it for us to roll ourselves up in wickedness, till
we grow invulnerable by conscience ; and that sentinel, once dozed, sleeps
fast, not to be awakened while the tide of pleasure continues to flow, or
till something dark and dreadful brings us to ourselves again.
I have, I confess, wondered at the stupidity that my intellectual part
234 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
was under all that while ; what lethargic fumes dozed the soul ; and how
was it possible that I, who in the case before, where the temptation was
many ways more forcible and the arguments stronger and more irresistible,
was yet under a continued inquietude on account of the wicked life I led,
could now live in the most profound tranquillity and with an uninterrupted
peace, nay, even rising up to satisfaction and joy, and yet in a more
palpable state of adultery than before; for before, my gentleman who
called me wife had the pretence of his wife being parted from him,
refusing to do the duty of her office as a wife to him. As for me, my
circumstances were the same ; but, as for the prince, as he had a fine and
extraordinary lady, or princess, of his own, so he had had two or three
mistresses more besides me, and made no scruple of it at alL
However, I say, as to my own part, I enjoyed myself in perfect tran
quillity; and, as the prince was the only deity I worshipped, so I was
really his idol; and, however it was with his princess, I assure you his
other mistresses found a sensible difference, and though they could never
find me out, yet I had good intelligence, that they guessed very well that
their lord had got some new favourite that robbed them of his company,
and, perhaps, of some of his usual bounty too. And now I must mention
the sacrifices he made to his idol, and they were not a few, I assure you.
As he loved like a prince, so he rewarded like a prince; for though he
declined my making a figure, as above, he let me see that he was above
doing it for the saving the expense of it, and so he told me, and that he
would make it up in other things. First of all, he sent me a toilet, with
all the appurtenances of silver, even so much as the frame of the table;
and then for the house, he gave me the table, or sideboard of plate, I
mentioned above, with all things belonging to it of massy silver; so that,
in short, I could not for my life study to ask him for anything of plate
which I had not.
He could, then, accommodate me in nothing more but jewels and clothes,
or money for clothes. He sent his gentleman to the mercer's, and bought
me a suit, or whole piece, of the finest brocaded silk, figured with gold,
and another with silver, and another of crimson; so that I had three suits
of clothes, such as the Queen of France would not have disdained to
have worn at that time. Yet I went out nowhere; but as those were for
me to put on when I went out of mourning, I dressed myself in them,
one after another, always when his Highness came to see me.
I had no less than five several morning dresses besides these, so that I
need never be seen twice in the same dress ; to these he added several
parcels of fine linen and of lace, so much that I had no room to ask for
more, or, indeed, for so much.
I took the liberty once, in our freedoms, to tell him he was too boun
tiful, and that I was too chargeable to him for a mistress, and that I
would be his faithful servant at less expense to him ; and that he not only
left me no room to ask him for anything, but that he supplied me with
such a profusion of good things that I could scarce wear them, or use
them, unless I kept a great equipage, which, he knew, was no way con
venient for him or for me. He smiled, and took me in his arms, and told
me he was resolved, while I was his, I should never be able to ask him
for anything, but that he would be daily asking new favours of me,
After we were up (for this conference was in bed), he desired I would
dress me in the best suit of clothes I had. It was a day or two after the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 235
three suits were made and brought home. I told him, If he pleased, I
would rather dress me in that suit which I knew he liked best. He asked
me how I could know which he would like best before he had seen them.
I told him I would presume for once to guess at his fancy by my own;
so I went away, and dressed me in the second suit, brocaded with silver,
and returned in full dress, with a suit of lace upon my head, which would
have been worth in England two hundred pounds sterling; and I was
every way set out as well as Amy could dress me, who was a very
genteel dresser too. In this figure I came to him, out of my dressing-
room, which opened with folding-doors into his bedchamber.
He sat as one astonished a good while, looking at me, without speaking
a word, till I came quite up to him, kneeled on one knee to him, and
almost, whether he would or no, kissed his hand. He took me up, and
stood up himself, but was surprised, when, taking me in his arms, he
perceived tears to run down my cheeks. 'My dear', says he aloud, 'what
mean these tears ? ' ' My lord ', said I, after some little check, for I could
not speak presently, 'I beseech you to believe me, they are not tears of
sorrow, but tears of joy. It is impossible for me to see myself snatched
from the misery I was fallen into, and at once to be in the arms of a
prince of such goodness, such immense bounty, and be treated in such a
manner; it is not possible, my lord', said I, 'to contain the satisfaction
of it; and it will break out in an excess in some measure proportioned
to your immense bounty, and to the affection which your Highness treats
me with, who am so infinitely below you.'
It would look a little too much like a romance here to repeat all the
kind things he said to me on that occasion, but I can't omit one passage.
As he saw the tears drop down my cheek, he pulls out a fine cambric
handkerchief, and was going to wipe the tears off, but checked his hand,
as if he was afraid to deface something; I say, he checked his hand, and
tossed the handkerchief to me to do it myself. I took the hint immediately,
and with a kind of pleasant disdain, 'How, my lord', said I, 'have you
kissed me so often, and don't you know whether I am painted or not?
Pray let your Highness satisfy yourself that you have no cheats put upon
you ; for once let me be vain enough to say I have not deceived you with
false colours.' With this I put a handkerchief into his hand, and taking
his hand into mine, I made him wipe my face so hard that he was
unwilling to do it, for fear of hurting me.
He appeared surprised more than ever, and swore, which was the first
time that I had heard him swear from my first knowing him, that he
could not have believed there was any such skin without paint in the
world. 'Well, my lord', said I, 'your Highness shall have a further
demonstration than this, as to that which you are pleased to accept for
beauty, that it is the mere work of nature ' ; and with that I stepped to the
door, and rung a, little bell for my woman Amy, and bade her bring me
a cup full of hot water, which she did; and when it was come, I desired
his Highness to feel if it was warm, which he did, and I immediately
washed my face all over with it before him. This was, indeed, more than
satisfaction, that is to say, than believing, for it was an undeniable demon
stration, and he kissed my cheeks and breasts a thousand times, with
expressions of the greatest surprise imaginable.
Nor was I a very indifferent figure as to shape ; though I had had two
children by my gentleman, and six by my true husband, I say I was no
236 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
despisable shape; and my prince (I must be allowed the vanity to call
him so) was taking his view of me as I walked from one end of the
room to the other. At last he leads me to the darkest part of the room,
and standing behind me, bade me hold up my head, when, putting both
his hands round my neck, as if he was spanning my neck to see how
small it was, for it was long and small, he held my neck so long and so
hard in his hand that I complained he hurt me a little. What he did it
for I knew not, nor had I the least suspicion but that he was spanning
my neck ; but when I said he hurt me, he seemed to let go, and in half
a minute more led me to a pier-glass, and behold I saw my neck clasped
with a fine necklace of diamonds; whereas I felt no more what he was
doing than if he had really done nothing at all, nor did I suspect it in
the least If I had an ounce of blood in me that did not fly up into my
face, neck, and breasts, it must be from some interruption in the vessels.
I was all on fire with the sight, and began to wonder what it was that
was coming to me.
However, to let him see that I was not unqualified to receive benefits,
I turned about: 'My lord', says I, 'your Highness is resolved to conquer,
by your bounty, the very gratitude of your servants; you will leave no
room for anything but thanks, and make those thanks useless too, by
their bearing no proportion to the occasion.'
'I love, child', says he, 'to see everything suitable. A fine gown and
petticoat, a fine laced head, a fine face and neck, and no necklace, would
not have made the object perfect. But why that blush, my dear?' says
the princt. 'My lord', said I, 'all your gifts call for blushes, but, above
all, I blush to receive what I am so ill able to merit, and may become
so ill also.'
Thus far I am a standing mark of the weakness of great men in their
vice, that value not squandering away immense wealth upon the most
worthless creatures ; or, to sum it up in a word, they raise the value of
the object which they pretend to pitch upon by their fancy; I say, raise
the value of it at their own expense; give vast presents for a ruinous
favour, which is so far from being equal to the price, that nothing will
at last prove more absurd than the cost men are at to purchase their own
destruction.
I could not, in the height of all this fine doings — I say, I could not be
without some just reflection, though conscience was, as I said, dumb, as
to any disturbance it gave me in my wickedness. My vanity was fed up
to such a height that I had no room to give way to such reflections. But
I could not but sometimes look back with astonishment at the folly of
men of quality, who, immense in their bounty as in their wealth, give to
a profusion and without bounds to the most scandalous of our sex, for
granting them the liberty of abusing themselves and ruining both.
I, that knew what this carcase of mine had been but a few years
before; how overwhelmed with grief, drowned in tears, frightened with
the prospect of beggary, and surrounded with rags and fatherless children;
that was pawning and selling the rags that covered me for a dinner, and
sat on the ground despairing of help and expecting to be starved, till my
children were snatched from me to be kept by the parish; I, that was
after this a whore for bread, and, abandoning conscience and virtue, lived
with another woman's husband; I, that was despised by all my relations,
and my husband's too ; I, that was left so entirely desolate, friendless, and
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 237
helpless that I knew not how to get the least help to keep me from
starving— that I should be caressed by a prince, for the honour of having
the scandalous use of my prostituted body, common before to his inferiors,
and perhaps would not have denied one of his footmen but a little while
before, if I could have got my bread by it.
I say, I could not but reflect upon the brutality and blindness of
mankind ; that because nature had given me a good skin and some agree
able features, should suffer that beauty to be such a bait to appetite as to
do such sordid, unaccountable things to obtain the possession of it.
It is for this reason that I have so largely set down the particulars of
the caresses I was treated with by the jeweller, and also by this prince;
not to make the story an incentive to the vice, which I am now such a
sorrowful penitent for being guilty of (God forbid any should make so vile
a use of so good a design), but to draw the just picture of a man enslaved
to the rage of his vicious appetite ; how he defaces the image of God in
his soul, dethrones his reason, causes conscience to abdicate the possession,
and exalts sense into the racant throne; how he deposes the man and
exalts the brute.
Oh! could we hear the reproaches this great man afterwards loaded
himself with, when he grew weary of this admired creature, and became
sick of his vice, how profitable would the report of them be to the reader
of this story! But, had he himself also known the dirty history of my
actings upon the stage of life that little time I had been in the world,
how much more severe would those reproaches have been upon himself!
But I shall come to this again.
I lived in this gay sort of retirement almost three years, in which time
no amour of such a kind, sure, was ever carried up so high. The prince
knew no bounds to his munificence; he could give me nothing, either for
my wearing, or using, or eating, or drinking, more than he had done from
the beginning.
His presents were after that in gold, and very frequent and large, often
a hundred pistoles, never less than fifty at a time; and I must do myself
the justice that I seemed rather backward to receive than craving and
encroaching. Not that I had not an avaricious temper, nor was it that I
did not foresee that this was my harvest, in which I was to gather up,
and that it would not last long ; but it was that really his bounty always
anticipated my expectations, and even my wishes; and he gave me money
so fast that he rather poured it in upon me than left me room to ask
it; so that, before I could spend fifty pistoles, I had always a hundred to
make it up.
After I had been near a year and a half in his arms, as above, or
thereabouts, I proved with child. I did not take any notice of it to him
till I was satisfied that I was not deceived ; when one morning early, when
we were in bed together, I said to him, 'My lord, I doubt your Highness
never gives yourself leave to think what the case should be if I should
have the honour to be with child by you.1 'Why, my dear', says he,
'we are able to keep it if such a thing should happen; I hope you are
not concerned about that.' 'No, my lord', said I; 'I should think my self
very happy if I could bring your Highness a son; I should hope to
see him a lieutenant-general of the king's armies by the interest of
his father, and by his own merit' Assure yourself, child', says he, 'if
it should be so, I will not refuse owning him for my son, though
238 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
it be, as they call it, a natural son ; and shall never slight or neglect him,
for the sake of his mother.' Then he began to importune me to know if
it was so, but I positively denied it so long, till at last I was able to
give him the satisfaction of knowing it himself by the motion of the
child within me.
He professed himself overjoyed at the discovery, but told me that now
it was absolutely necessary for me to quit the confinement, which, he said,
I had suffered for his sake, and to take a house somewhere in the country,
in order for health, as well as for privacy, against my lying-in. This was
quite out of my way ; but the prince, who was a man of pleasure, had, it
seems, several retreats of this kind, which he had made use of, I suppose,
upon like occasions. And so, leaving it, as it were, to his gentleman, he
provided a very convenient house, about four miles south of Paris, at the
village of , where I had very agreeable lodgings, good gardens, and
all things very easy to my content. But one thing did not please me at
all, viz., that an old woman was provided, and put into the house to
furnish everything necessary to my lying-in, and to assist at my travail.
I did not like this old woman at all; she looked so like a spy
upon me, or (as sometimes I was frighted to imagine) like one set
privately to despatch me out of the world, as might best suit with the
circumstance of my lying-in. And, when his Highness came the next time
to see me, which was not many days, I expostulated a little on the subject
of the old woman ; and by the management of my tongue, as well as by
the strength of reasoning, I convinced him that it would not be at all
convenient; that it would be the greater risk on his side; and at first or
last it would certainly expose him and me also. I assured him that my
servant, being an Englishwoman, never knew to that hour who his Highness
was ; that I always called him the Count de Clerac, and that she knew
nothing else of him, nor ever should; that, if he would give me leave to
choose proper persons for my use, it should be so ordered that not one
of them should know who he was, or perhaps ever see his face; and that,
for the reality of the child that should be born, his Highness, who had
alone been at the first of it, should, if he pleased, be present in the room
all the time, so that he would need no witnesses on that account.
This discourse fully satisfied him, so that he ordered his gentleman to
dismiss the old woman the same day; and, without any difficulty, I sent
my maid Amy to Calais, and thence to Dover, where she got an English
midwife and an English nurse to come over on purpose to attend an
English lady of quality, as they styled me, for four months certain.
The midwife, Amy had agreed to pay a hundred guineas to, and bear
her charges to Paris, and back again to Dover. The poor woman that
was to be my nurse had twenty pounds, and the same terms for charges
as the other.
I was very easy when Amy returned, and the more because she brought
with the midwife a good motherly sort of woman, who was to be her
assistant, and would be very helpful on occasion; and bespoke a man
midwife at Paris too, if there should be any necessity for his help. Having
thus made provision for everything, the Count, for so we all called him
in public, came as often to see me as I could expect, and continued
exceeding kind, as he had always been. One day, conversing together
upon the subject of my being with child, I told him how all things were
in order, but that I had a strange apprehension that I should die with that
THE LIFE OF ROXAKA 239
child. He smiled. 'So all the ladles say, my dear', says he, 'when they
are with child.' 'Well, however, my lord', said I, 'it is but just that care
should be taken, that what you have bestowed in your excess of bounty
upon me should not be lost'; and upon this I pulled a paper out of my
bosom, folded up, but not sealed, and I read it to him, wherein I had
left order that all the plate, and jewels, and fine furniture which his Highness
had given me should be restored to him by my women, and the keys be
immediately delivered to his gentleman in case of disaster.
Then I recommended my woman, Amy, to his favour for a hundred
pistoles, on condition she gave the keys up as above to his gentleman, and
his gentleman's receipt for them. When he saw this, ' My dear child ',
said he, and took me in his arms, 'what! Have you been making your
will and disposing of your effects ? Pray, whom do you make your
universal heir?' 'So far as to do justice to your Highness, in case of
mortality, I have, my lord ', said I, ' and who should I dispose the valuable
things to, which I have had from your hand as pledges of your favour
and testimonies of your bounty, but to the giver of them? If the child
should live, your Highness will, I don't question, act like yourself in that
part, and I shall have the utmost satisfaction that it will be well used by
your direction/
I could see he took this very well. 'I have forsaken all the ladies
in Paris ', says he, ' for you, and I have lived every day since I knew you,
to see that you know how to merit all that a man of honour can do for
you. Be easy, child; I hope you shall not die, and all you have is your
own, to do with it what you please.'
I was then within about two months of my time, and that soon wore
off. When I found my time was come, it fell out very happily that he
was in the house, and I entreated he would continue a few hours in the
house, which he agreed to. They called his Highness to come into the
room, if he pleased, as I had offered, and as I desired him ; and I sent
word I would make as few cries as possible to prevent disturbing him.
He came into the room once, and called to me to be of good courage,
it would soon be over, and then he withdrew again; and in about half-
an-hour more Amy carried him the news that I was delivered, and had
brought him a charming boy. He gave her ten pistoles for her news,
stayed till they had adjusted things about me, and then came into the
room again, cheered me and spoke kindly to me, and looked on the child,
then withdrew, and came again the next day to visit me.
Since this, and when I have looked back upon these things with eyes
unpossessed wr'th crime, when the wicked part has appeared in its clearer
light and I ha**p seen it in its own natural colours, when, no more blinded
with the glittering appearances which at that time deluded me, and, as in
like cases, if I may guess at others by myself, too much possessed the
the mind; I say, since this, I have often wondered with what pleasure or
satisfaction the prince could look upon the poor innocent infant, which,
though his own, and that he might that way have some attachment in his
affections to it, yet must always afterwards be a remembrancer to him of
his most early crime, and, which was worse, must bear upon itself,
unmerited, an eternal mark of infamy, which should be spoken of, upon
all occasions, to its reproach, from the folly of its father and wickedness
of its mother.
Great men are indeed delivered from the burthen of their natural children,
24O THE LIFE OF ROXANA
or bastards, as to their maintenance. This is the main affliction in other
cases, where there is not substance sufficient without breaking into the
fortunes of the family. In those cases, either a man's legitimate children
suffer, which is very unnatural, or the unfortunate mother of that illegitimate
birth has a dreadful affliction, either of being turned off with her child,
and be left to starve, etc., or of seeing the poor infant packed off with a
piece of money to those she-butchers who take children off their hands,
as 'tis called, that is to say, starve them, and, in a word, murder them.
Great men, I say, are delivered from this burthen, because they are
always furnished to supply the expense of their out-of-the-way offspring,
by making little assignments upon the Bank of Lyons or the townhouse
of Paris, and settling those sums, to be received for the maintenance of
such expense as they see cause.
Thus, in the case of this child of mine, while he and I conversed, there
was no need to make any appointment as an appanage or maintenance for
the child or its nurse, for he supplied me more than sufficiently for all
those things ; but afterwards, when time, and a particular circumstance, put
ail end to our conversing together (as such things always meet with a
period, and generally break off abruptly), I say, after that, I found he
appointed the children a settled allowance, by an assignment of annual
rent upon the Bank of Lyons, which was sufficient for bringing them
handsomely, though privately, up in the world, and that not in a manner
unworthy of their father's blood, though I came to be sunk and forgotten
in the case; nor did the children ever know anything of their mother to
this day, other than as you may have an account hereafter.
But, to look back to the particular observation I was making, which I
hope may be of use to those who read my story, I say it was something
wonderful to me to see this person so exceedingly delighted at the birth
of this child, and so pleased with it ; for he would sit and look at it, and
with an air of seriousness sometimes a great while together, and particu
larly, I observed, he loved to look at it when it was asleep.
It was, indeed, a lovely, charming child, and had a certain vivacity in
its countenance that is far from being common to all children so young;
and he would often say to me that he believed there was something ex
traordinary in the child, and he did not doubt but he would come to be
a great man.
I could never hear him say so, but though secretly it pleased me, yet
it so closely touched me another way that I could not refrain sighing, and
sometimes tears ; and one time in particular it so affected me that I could
not conceal it from him; but when he saw tears run down my face, there
was no concealing the occasion from him; he was too importunate to be
denied in a thing of that moment; so I frankly answered, 'It sensibly
affects me, my lord', said I, 'that, whatever the merit of this little
creature may be, he must always have a bend on his arms. The disaster
of his birth will be always, not a blot only to his honour, but a bar to
his fortunes in the world. Our affection will be ever his affliction, and his
mother's crime be the son's reproach. The blot can never be wiped out
by the most glorious action; nay, if it lives to raise a family', said I, 'the
infamy must descend even to its innocent posterity.'
He took the thought, and sometimes told me afterwards that it made a
deeper impression on him than he discovered to me at that time ; but for
the present he put it off with telling me [h**e things could not be helped
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 241
that they served for a spur to the spirits of brave men, inspired them with
the principles of gallantry, and prompted them to brave actions; that
though it might be true that the mention of illegitimacy might attend the
name, yet that personal virtue placed a man of honour above the reproach
of his birth; that, as he had no share in the offence, he would have no
concern at the blot ; when, having by his own merit placed himself out of
the reach of scandal, his fame should drown the memory of his beginning;
that, as it was usual for men of quality to make such little escapes, so the
number of their natural children were so great, and they generally took
such good care of their education, that some of the greatest men in the
world had a bend in their coats-of-arms, and that it was of no consequence
to them, especially when their fame began to rise upon the basis of their
acquired merit; and upon this he began to reckon up to me some of the
greatest families in France and in England also.
This carried off our discourse for a time; but I went farther with him
once, removing the discourse from the part attending our children to the
reproach which those children would be apt to throw upon us, their
originals; and, when speaking a little too feelingly on the subject, he
began to receive the impression a little deeper than I wished he had done.
At last he told ine I had almost acted the confessor to him ; that I might,
perhaps, preach a more dangerous doctrine to him than we should either
of us like, or than I was aware of. ' For, my dear ', says he, ' if once we
come to talk of repentance we must talk of parting.'
If tears were in my eyes before, they flowed too fast now to be restrained,
and I gave him but too much satisfaction by my looks that I had yet no
reflections upon my mind strong enough to go that length, and that I could
no more think of parting than he could.
He said a great many kind things, which were great, like himself, and,
extenuating our crime, intimated to me that he could no more part with
me than I could with him; so we both, as I may say, even against our
light and against our conviction, concluded to sin on; indeed, his affection
to the child was one great tie to him, for he was extremely fond of it.
The child lived to be a considerable man. He was first an officer of
the Garde du Corps of France, and afterwards colonel of a regiment of
dragoons in Italy, and on many extraordinary occasions showed that he
was not unworthy such a father, but many ways deserving a legitimate
birth and a better mother; of which hereafter.
I think I may say now that I lived indeed like a queen ; or, if you will
have me confess that my condition had still the reproach of a whore, I
may say I was, sure, the queen of whores ; for no woman was ever more
valued or more caressed by a person of such quality only in the station
of a mistress. I had, indeed, one deficiency which women in such circum
stances seldom are chargeable with, namely, I craved nothing of him, I
never asked him for anything in my life, nor suffered myself to be made
use of, as is too much the custom of mistresses, to ask favours for others.
His bounty always prevented me in the first, and my strict concealing
myself in the last, which was no less to my convenience than his.
The only favour I ever asked of him was for his gentleman, who he had
all along entrusted with the secret of our affair, and who had once so
much offended him by some omissions in his duty that he found it very
hard to make his peace. He came and laid his case before my woman
Amy, and begged her to speak to me to intercede for him, which I did,
16
242 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
and on my account he was received again and pardoned, for which the
grateful dog requited me by getting to bed to his benefactress, Amy, at
which I was very angry. But Amy generously acknowledged that it was
her fault as much as his ; that she loved the fellow so much that she
believed, if he had not asked her she should have asked him. I say, this
pacified me, and I only obtained of her that she should not let him know
that I knew it.
I might have interspersed this part of my story with a great many
pleasant parts and discourses which happened between my maid Amy and
I, but I omit them on account of my own story, which has been so ex
traordinary. However, I must mention something as to Amy and her
gentleman.
I inquired of Amy upon what terms they came to be so intimate, but
Amy seemed backward to explain herself. I did not care to press her
upon a question of that nature, knowing that she might have answered my
question with a question, and have said, ' Why, how did I and the prince
come to be so intimate?' So I left off farther inquiring into it, till, after
some time, she told it me all freely of her own accord, which, to cut it
short, amounted to no more than this, that, like mistress like maid, as
they had many leisure hours together below, while they waited respectively
when his lord and I were together above; I say, they could hardly avoid
the usual question one to another, namely, why might not they do the
same thing below that we did above?
On that account, indeed, as I said above, I could not find in my heart
to be angry with Amy. I was, indeed, afraid the girl would have been
with child too, but that did not happen, and so there was no hurt done;
for Amy had been hanselled before, as well as her mistress, and by the
same party too, as you have heard.
After I was up again, and my child provided with a good nurse, and,
withal, winter coming on, it was proper to think of coming to Paris again,
which I did; but, as I had now a coach and horses, and some servants
to attend me, by my lord's allowance, I took the liberty to have them
come to Paris sometimes, and so to take a tour into the garden of the
Tuileries and the other pleasant places of the city. It happened one day
that my prince (if I may call him so) had a mind to give me some
diversion, and to take the air with me ; but, that he might do it and not
be publicly known, he comes to me in a coach of the Count de , a
great officer of the court, attended by his liveries also; so that, in a word,
it was impossible to guess by the equipage, who I was or who I belonged
to ; also, that I might be the more effectually concealed, he ordered me to
be taken up at a mantua-maker's house, where he sometimes came, whether
upon other amours or not was no business of mine to inquire. I knew
nothing whither he intended to carry me; but when he was in the coach
with me, he told me he had ordered his servants to go to court with me,
and he would show me some of the beau monde. I told him I cared not
where I went while I had the honour to have him with me. So he
carried me to the fine palace of Meudon, where the Dauphin then was,
and where he had some particular intimacy with one of the Dauphin's
domestics, who procured a retreat for me in his lodgings while we stayed
there, which was three or four days.
While I was there the king happened to come thither from Versailles,
and, making but a short stay, visited Madame the Dauphiness, who was
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 243
then living. The prince was here incognito, only because of his being
with me, and therefore, when he heard that the king was in the gardens,
he kept close within the lodgings; but the gentleman in whose lodgings
we were, with his lady and several others, went out to see the king, and
I had the honour to be asked to go with them.
After we had seen the king, who did not stay long in the gardens' we
walked np the broad terrace, and, crossing the hall towards the great
staircase, I had a sight which confounded me at once, as I doubt not it
would have done to any woman in the world. The horse guards, or what
they call there the gens d'armes, had, upon some occasion, been either
upon duty or been reviewed, or something (I did not understand that part)
was the matter that occasioned their being there, I know not what; but,
walking in the guard-chamber, and with his jack-boots on, and the whole
habit of the troop, as it is worn when our horse guards are upon duty,
as they call it, at St James's Park; I say, there, to my inexpressible con
fusion, I saw Mr , my first husband, the brewer.
I could not be deceived; I passed so near him that I almost brushed
him with my clothes, and looked him full in the face, but having my fan
before my face, so that he could not know me. However, I knew him
perfectly well, and I heard him speak, which was a second way of knowing
him. Besides being, you may be sure, astonished and surprised at such a
sight, I turned about after I had passed him some steps, and pretending
to ask the lady that was with me some questions, I stood as if I had
viewed the great hall, the outer guard-chamber, and some things; but I did
it to take a full view of his dress, that I might farther inform myself.
While I stood thus, amusing the lady that was with me with questions,
he walked, talking with another man of the same cloth, back again, just
by me ; and to my particular satisfaction, or dissatisfaction — take it which
way you will — I heard him speak English, the other being, it seems, an
Englishman.
I then asked the lady some other questions. 'Pray, madam', says I,
'what are these troopers here? Are they the king's guards ?* 'No', says
she; 'they are the gens d'armes; a small detachment of them, I suppose,
attended the king to-day, but they are not his Majesty's ordinary guard.'
Another lady that was with her said, 'No, madam, it seems that is not
the case, for I heard them saying the gens d'armes were here to-day by
special order, some of them being to march towards the Rhine, and these
attend for orders; but they go back to-morrow to Orleans, where they are
expected.'
This satisfied me in part, but I found means after this to inquire whose
particular troop it was that the gentlemen that were here belonged to;
and with that I heard they would all be at Paris the week after.
Two days after this we returned for Paris, when I took occasion to
speak to my lord, that I heard the gens d'armes were to be in the city the
next week, and that I should be charmed with seeing them march if they
came in a body. He was so obliging in such things that I need but just
name a thing of that kind and it was done; so he ordered his gentleman
(I should now call him Amy's gentleman) to get me a place in a certain
house, where I might see them march.
As he did not appear with me on this occasion, so I had the liberty
of taking my woman Amy with me, and stood where we were very well
accommodated for the observation which I was to make. I told Amy
244 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
what I had seen, and she was as forward to make the discovery as I was
to have her, and almost as much surprised at the thing itself. In a word,
the gens (farmes entered the city, as was expected, and made a most glorious
show indeed, being new clothed and armed, and being to have their
standards blessed by the Archbishop of Paris. On this occasion they
indeed looked very gay; and, as they marched very leisurely, I had time
to take as critical a view and make as nice a search among them as I
pleased. Here, in a particular rank, eminent for one monstrous-sized man
on the right; here, I say, I saw my gentleman again, and a very handsome,
jolly fellow he was, as any in the troop, though not so monstrous large
as that great one I speak of, who, it seems, was, however, a gentleman
of a good family in Gascony, and was called the giant of Gascony.
It was a kind of a good fortune to us, among the other circumstances
of it, that something caused the troops to halt in their march a little before
that particular rank came right against that window which I stood in, so
that then we had occasion to take our full view of him at a small dis
tance, and so as not to doubt of his being the same person.
Amy, who thought she might, on many accounts, venture with more
safety to be particular than I could, asked her gentleman how a particular
man, who she saw there among the gens cfarmes, might be inquired after
and found out; she having seen an Englishman riding there which was
supposed to be dead in England for several years before she came out of
London, and that his wife had married again. It was a question the
gentleman did not well understand how to answer; but another person
that stood by told her, if she would tell him the gentleman's name, he
would endeavour to find him out for her, and asked jestingly if he was
her lover. Amy put that off with a laugh, but still continued her inquiry,
and in such a manner as the gentleman easily perceived she was in
earnest; so he left bantering, and asked her in what part of the troop he
rode. She foolishly told him his name, which she should not have done;
and pointing to the cornet that troop carried, which was not then quite
out of sight, she let him easily know whereabouts he rode, only she could
not name the captain. However, he gave her such directions afterwards
that, in short, Amy, who was an indefatigable girl, found him out. It
seems he had not changed his name, not supposing any inquiry would be
made after him here; but, I say, Amy found him out, and went boldly to
his quarters, asked for him, and he came out to her immediately.
I believe I was not more confounded at my first seeing him at Meudon
than he was at seeing Amy. He started, and turned pale as death. Amy
believed if he had seen her at first, in any convenient place for so villainous
a purpose, he would have murdered her.
But he started, as I say above, and asked in English, with an admira
tion, 'What are you?' 'Sir', says she, 'don't you know me?' 'Yes',
says he, 'I knew you when you were alive; but what are you now? —
whether ghost or substance, 1 know not.' 'Be not afraid, sir, of that',
says Amy; 'I am the same Amy that I was in your service, and do not
speak to you now for any hurt, but that I saw you accidentally yesterday
ride among the soldiers ; I thought you might be glad to hear from your friends
at London.' 'Well, Amy', says he then (having a little recovered himself),
'how does everybody do? What ! is your mistress here?' Thus they begun:
Amy. My mistress, sir, alas! not the mistress you mean; poor gentle
woman, you left her in a sad condition.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 245
Gent. Why, that's true, Amy; but it could not be helped; I was in a
sad condition myself.
Amy. I believe so, indeed, sir, or else you had not gone away as you
did ; for it was a very terrible condition you left them all in, that I
must say.
Gent. What did they do after I was gone?
Amy. Do, sir! Very miserably, you may be sure. How could it be
otherwise ?
Gent. Well, that's true indeed ; but you may tell me, Amy, what became
of them, if you please; for, though I went so away, it was not because I
did not love them all very well, but because I could not bear to see the
poverty that was coming upon them, and which it was not in my power
to help. What could I do?'
Amy. Nay, I believe so, indeed; and I have heard my mistress say
many times she did not doubt but your affliction was as great as hers,
almost, wherever you were.
Gent. Why, did she believe I was alive, then?
Amy. Yes, sir; she always said she believed 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, though, to the poor lady, sir, my mistress ;
she almost broke her heart for you at first, for fear of what might befall
you, and at last because she could not hear from you.
Gent. Alas, Amy ! what could I do ? Things were driven to the last
extremity before I went. I could have done nothing but help starve them
all if I had stayed; and, besides, I could not bear to see it.
Amy. You know, sir, I can say little to what passed before, but I am
a melancholy witness to the sad distresses of my poor mistress as long as
I stayed with her, and which would grieve your heart to hear them.
[Here she tells my whole story to the time that the parish took off one
of my children, and which she perceived very much affected him; and he
shook his head, and said some things very bitter when he heard of the
cruelty of his own relations to me.]
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 would serve her without any wages, but I could
not live without victuals, you know ; so I was forced to leave her, poor
lady, sore against my will ; and I heard afterwards that the landlord seized
her goods, so she was, I suppose, turned 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 tenant. 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 gentle
folks had relieved her, or that else she must have starved.
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 clothes, and it was thought she worked
with her needle for her bread.
246 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
All this the jade said with so much cunning, and managed and humoured
it so well, and wiped her eyes, and cried so artificially, 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, melancholy story, and it had
almost broke his heart at first, but that he was driven to the last extremity,
and could do nothing but stay and see them all starve, which he could
not bear the thoughts of, but should have pistolled himself if any such
thing had happened while he was there; that he left (me) his wife all
the money he had in the world but £25, which was as little as he could
take with him to seek his fortune in the world. He could not doubt but
that his relations, seeing they were all rich, would 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 resolved never to claim her,
because he should rejoice to hear that she had settled to her mind; and
that he wished there had been a law made to empower a woman to
marry if her husband was not heard of in so long a time, which time,
he thought, should not be above four years, which was long enough to
send word in to a wife or family from any part of the world.
Amy said she could say nothing to that but this, that she was satisfied
her mistress would marry nobody unless she had certain intelligence that
he had been dead from somebody that saw him buried. 'But, alas!'
says Amy, 'my mistress was reduced to such dismal circumstances that
nobody would 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, 'though he calls himself a lord's gentleman.
And here ', says Amy, ' he has dragged me over into a strange country to
make a beggar of me'; and then she falls a-howling again, and snivelling,
which, by the way, was all hypocrisy, but acted so to the life as perfectly
deceived him, and he gave entire credit to every word of it.
'Why, Amy', says he, 'you are very well dressed; you don't look as if
you were in danger of being a beggar.' ' Ay, hang 'em ! ' says Amy, ' they
love to have fine clothes here, if they have never a smock under them.
But I love to have money in cash, rather than a chestful of fine clothes.
Besides, sir', says she, 'most of the clothes 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 lived, 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 should, it would be ten thousand
to one whether I shall see my old mistress, for how should 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 inquire for her; and if I
should', 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 cir-
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 247
cumstances, he told her she saw him in the highest preferment he had
arrived 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 gens d'armes
who was his friend, but that he must have found eight thousand livres to
have paid for it to the gentleman who possessed it, and had leave given
him to sell. ' But where could I get eight thousand livres ', says he, ' that
have never been master of five hundred livres ready money at a time since
I came into France?'
'Oh dear, sir!' says Amy, 'I am very sorry to hear you say so. I
fancy, if you once got up to some preferment, you would 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. 'It is 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 should 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, though she knows nothing of it. Oh dear! how happy it would
have been! To be sure, sir, you would have helped her all you could.'
'Ay', says he, 'Amy, so I would with all my heart; and even as I am,
I would 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 anybody.'
'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 mere talk on both sides, and words, of course; for, on
farther inquiry, Amy found that he had no such offer of a lieutenant's
commission, or anything 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 eight thousand livres to purchase the commission he had spoken
of; but, as I knew his character better than anybody, I was willing to
search a little farther into it, and so I set Amy to inquire of some other
of the troop, to see what character he had, and whether there was anything
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 anything he said; but that he was, in short, a mere sharper,
one that would stick at nothing to get money, and that there was no
depending on anything he said ; and that, more especially about the lieuten
ant'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 reported that he had a wife and five children
in England, who he maintained out of his pay, and by these shifts had
run into debt in several places; and, upon several complaints for such
things, he had be^n threatened to be turned out of the gens d'armes / and
that, in short, he was not to be believed in anything he said, or trusted
on any account.
248 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 resolved to put him upon suspicions and inquiries, which might
be to my ruin in the condition I was now in.
I was soon confirmed in this part of his character, for the next time
that Amy came to talk with him, he discovered 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 easy conditions, he
by degrees dropped 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
five hundred pistoles.
Amy pretended poverty, that her circumstances were but mean, and that
she could not raise such a sum; and this she did to try him to the
utmost He descended to three hundred, then to one hundred, then to
fifty, and then to a pistole, which she lent him, and he, never intending
to pay it, played out of her sight as much as he could. 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 sense and of
any principle of honour, I had it in my thoughts to retire to England
again, send for him over, and have lived 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 would 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, and sent
it with express condition that he should immediately have bought himself
the commission he talked 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 would
have been still but a private trooper, and his wife and children should
still have starved at London, or been kept of mere charity, as, for aught
he knew, they then were.
Seeing, therefore, no remedy, I was obliged to withdraw my hand from
him, that had been m y 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 lived.
Amy and I had several consultations then upon the main question,
namely, how to be sure never to chop upon him again by chance, and to
be surprised into a discovery, which would have been a fatal discovery
indeed. Amy proposed that we should always take care to know where
the gens d'armes were quartered, 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 inquiring where the gens d'armes were quartered was sufficient to me;
but I found out a fellow who was completely qualified for the work of a
spy (for France has plenty of such people). This man I employed to be
a constant and particular attendant upon his person and motions; and he
was especially employed and ordered to haunt him as a ghost, that he
should scarce let him be ever out of his sight. He performed this to a
nicety, and failed not to give me a perfect journal of all his motions from
day to day, and, whether for his pleasure or his business, was always at
his heels.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 249
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 stayed at home.
By this extraordinary conduct I made myself safe, and so went out in
public or stayed 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, though it was very chargeable, yet as I found it absolutely neces
sary, so I took no thought about the expense of it, for I knew I could
not purchase my safety too dear.
By this management I found an opportunity to see what a most insigni
ficant, unthinking life the poor, indolent wretch, who, by his unactive
temper, had at first been my ruin, now lived; how he only rose in the
morning to go to bed at night; that, saving the necessary motion of the
troops, which he was obliged to attend, he was a mere motionless animal,
of no consequence in the world; that he seemed to be one who, though
he was indeed alive, had no manner of business in life but to stay to be
called out of it. He neither kept any company, minded any sport, played
at any game, or indeed did anything of moment; but, in short, sauntered
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 anything in the world to be
talked of, it was only to get five beggars and starve his wife. The journal
of his life, which 1 had constantly sent me every week, was the least
significant of anything of its kind that was ever seen, as it had really
nothing of earnest in it, so it would 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 obliged 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 would shun a spectre, or even the devil, if he
was actually in our way; and it cost me after the rate of a hundred and
fifty 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 could give an account of him,
which was much the easier for to be done, considering his way of living ;
for he was sure, that, for whole weeks together, he would be ten hours of
the day half asleep on a bench at the tavern-door where he quartered, or
drunk within the house. Though this wicked life he led sometimes moved
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 appeared,
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 sense 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 it is 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 returned to Paris. My little son of honour, as I called him,
250 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 arrived, and
told me he came to give me joy of my return, and to make his acknow
ledgments 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, supped with me about midnight, and did me the honour, as I
then called 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 three hundred 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.
1 told him he was unkind, that he would never give me an opportunity
to ask for anything, and that he forced me to blush by being too much
obliged, and the like; all which, I knew, was very agreeable to him, for
as he was bountiful beyond measure, so he was infinitely obliged by my
being so backward to ask any favours ; and I was even with him, for I
never asked 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 could be more obliging to a man of honour
than not to be soliciting and craving.
I told him nothing could be craving upon him, that he left no room
for it; that I hoped he did not give merely to avoid the trouble of being
importuned. I told him he might depend upon it that I should be reduced
very low indeed before I offered 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 anything; that he had too much
value for me to deny me anything if I asked, but that it was infinitely
agreeable to him to hear me say that what he did was to my satisfaction.
We strained 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 would admit me to go on
no farther.
I should in this place mention, that this prince was not a subject of
France, though 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 looked at him a little surprised ; but
he returned, 'Do not be uneasy; 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
easy to us both.'
I seemed still more concerned and surprised. At last he said it was
that he believed he should be obliged to go into Italy, which, though
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 thunderstruck, for a good while; and it presently
occurred to me that I was going to lose him, which, indeed, I could but
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
III bear the thoughts of; and, as he told me, I turned pale. 'What's the
matter?' said he hastily. 'I have surprised you, indeed', and, stepping to
the sideboard, fills a dram of cordial water, which was of his own bringing,
and comes to me. 'Be not surprised', said he; 'I'll go nowhere without
you ' ; adding several other things so kind as nothing could exceed it.
I might indeed turn pale, for I was very much surprised 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 whirled about my head in the few moments while I
was kept in suspense, for they were but a few. I say, I was indeed
surprised, and might, perhaps, look pale, but I was not in any danger of
fainting that I knew of.
However, it not a little pleased me to see him so concerned and anxious
about me, but I stopped 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 ; 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 stopped a while, and then answered
that I wondered he would ask me that question, for I would go anywhere
in the world, or all over the world, wherever he should desire me, and
give me the felicity of his company.
Then he entered into a long account of the occasion of his journey,
and how the king had engaged 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 cheerful consultations about the manner of our
travelling, the equipage and figure he should go in, and in what manner I
should go. Several ways were proposed, but none seemed feasible, till at
last I told him, I thought it would be so troublesome, so expensive, and
so public, that it would be many ways inconvenient to him; and though
it was a kind of death to me to lose him, yet that, rather than so very
much perplex his affairs, I would submit to anything.
At the next visit I filled his head with the same difficulties, and then
at last came over him with a proposal that I would stay in Paris, or where
else he should direct; and, when I heard of his safe arrival, would come
away by myself, and place myself as near him as I could.
This gave him no satisfaction at all, nor would he hear any more of it;
but if I durst venture myself, as he called it, such a journey, he would
not lose the satisfaction of my company; and as for the expense, that was
not to be named; neither, indeed, was there room to name it, for I
found that he travelled at the king's expense, 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 resolution,
viz., that he would travel incognito, and so he should avoid all public
notice either of himself or of who went with him; and that then he should
252 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
not only carry me with him, but have a perfect leisure of enjoying my
agreeable company (as he was pleased to call it) all the way.
This was so obliging that nothing could 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 nobody 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 ruined 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 easy to me; for in concerting measures for
our journey, he started the thing himself, and asked me merrily one evening
who I would 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 concerned', 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 bowed, and told him I could not be put into better
hands than his own, and that, therefore, I would govern all my measures
by his directions ; so we talked 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 ordered 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 secured, we set out 'incog.', as he called it; but we
had two coaches and six horses, two chaises, and about eight men-servants
on horseback, all very well armed.
Never was woman better used 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 Madame , who thoroughly understood her busi
ness, and managed everything 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 ordered 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, hired at Turin, which met us at Suza;
so that we were accommodated again, and went by easy journeys after-
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 253
wards to Rome, where his business, whatever it was, called 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, engrossed his conversation almost all the way.
He took delight in showing me everything that was to be seen, and par
ticularly in telling me something of the history of everything he showed 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 ! It is one
of my reasons for entering into this part, which otherwise would 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 gratify the meanest of human 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, 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
cxcepted; 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 years upon this grand tour, as it may be called,
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 much among them, by the
help of the old witch that travelled with us. She had been at Naples and
at Venice, and had lived in the former several years, where, as I found,
she had lived but a loose life, and indeed the women of Naples generally
do; and, in short, I found she was fully acquainted with all the intriguing
arts of that part of the world.
Here my lord bought me a little female Turkish slave, who, being taken
at sea by a Maltese man-of-war, was brought in there, and of her I learnt
the Turkish language, their way of dressing and dancing, and some Turk
ish, 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 loved
the language, I read all the Italian books I could come at.
I began to be so in love with Italy, especially with Naples and Venice,
that I could 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 ecclesiastics 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, lackeys, and other servants is such
that they used 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
254 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
foreign ambassadors. In a word, they have an air of sharping and cozen
ing, 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) should give way to the other, that there was about thirty
people wounded on both sides, five or six killed outside, 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,
though we were in a country where it is well known all manner of liber
ties are taken, 1 am yet well assured he neither took the liberty he knew
he might have, or so much as desired 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 touched 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 looked up in his face, and
coloured as red as fire. 'Well, well', says he, 'do not let that surprise
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 could turn them 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 should
have been if you had not been with me. I cannot say but, if you had
not been here, I should have wandered 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 touched 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 would
doubtless have had the same influence upon his virtue, with infinitely more
advantage to him ; • but I considered this might give him offence ; and,
besides, such things might have been dangerous to the circumstance I stood
in, so it passed 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 convinced 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 lived 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 considered.
After these several perambulations, my lord told me his business began
to close, and we would think of returning to France, which I was very
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 255
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 everything was very safe,
and that was very much to my satisfaction. However, as the prince's
negotiations were at an end, and he was obliged to return, I was very
glad to go; so we returned 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, between Chambery
and Lyons; and so, by easy journeys, we arrived safely at Paris, having
been absent two years, wanting about eleven days, as above.
I found the little family we left just as we left them, and Amy cried
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 should 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 should come quite to the place, as indeed it happened.
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 to be uneasy, 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 had bred often, it would
something impair me in the great article that supported my interest — I
mean, what he called beauty; that, as that declined, I might expect the fire
would abate, and the warmth with which I was now caressed would cool,
and in time, like the other mistresses of great men, I might be dropped
again; and that, therefore, it was my business to take care that I should
fall as softly as I could.
I say, I did not forget, therefore, to make as good provision for myself
as if I had nothing to have subsisted on but what I now gained ; whereas
I had no less than ten thousand pounds, as I said above, which I had
amassed, or secured 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, though in a kind of a jest, was all my own, if he
was knocked on the head, and which, upon the 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, retired mode of
living, which he rather desired for privacy than parsimony ; for he supplied
me for a more magnificent way of life than I desired, if it had been proper.
I shall cut short the history of this prosperous wickedness with telling
you I brought him a third son, within little more than eleven months after
our return ftom Italy ; that now I lived 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 engrossed him that
256 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
he dropped them all. Not, perhaps, that he saved much by it, for I was
a very chargeable 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 anything, but poured 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 harridan, as I may call her, whom
he made the guide of our travelling, and who was a strange old creature,
told me a thousand stories of his gallantry, as she called 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 dropped 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 engrossed him; so much
beauty, etc.; and there she stopped.
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, though no sovereign, and therefore
there was no probability that the expense 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, though he lived in that court. He had a princess, a wife with
whom he had lived 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 superior, not to most women, but even to all her sex ; and,
as to her virtue, the character which was justly her due was that of, not
only the best of princesses, but even the best of women.
They lived 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 engrossed him more
than she (the princess) could 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 sense of her bearing the affront of it with such patience, and such a
profound respect for him as was in itself enough to have reformed 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 perceived it by his absence, but really got a knowledge of the
reason of it, and once or twice he even acknowledged 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 persuade him; but I was a hypocrite, for had I
prevailed 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
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 2$ J
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, etc., I found it began
to affect him, and he returned, ' And do you indeed ', says he, ' persuade
me to leave you? Would you have me think you sincere?' I looked up
in his face, smiling. 'Not for any other favourite, my lord', says I; 'that
would break my heart; but for madam the princess!' said I; and then I
could say no more. Tears followed, 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 assured 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 owned
he could not do — no, not for the princess herself.
But another turn of affairs determined this matter, for the princess was
taken very ill, and, in the opinion of all her physicians, very dangerously
so. In her sickness she desired 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,
recommended 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 asked his Highness's 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 looked back with detestation upon the former
part of his life, grew melancholy and reserved, changed his society and
much of the general conduct of his life, resolved 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 storm upon me; for, about ten
days after the princess's funeral, he sent a message to me by his gentleman,
intimating, though in very civil terms, and with a short preamble or introduc
tion, that he desired I would not take it ill that he was obliged 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 would retire into some religious house, to end
his days in solitude.
I need not direct anybody to suppose how I received this news. I was
'7
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
indeed exceedingly surprised at it, and had much ado to support myself
when the first part of it was delivered, though the gentleman delivered
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 concerned 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 sense 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 easy. I confess it was a circumstance
that it might be reasonably expected should 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 used 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
supplied, 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
anybody 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 reformed and struck with the sense of his having abused so good a
lady as his late princess had been. Nor did he send me away empty, but
did everything like himself; and, in particular, ordered his gentleman to
pay the rent of the house and all the expense of his two sous, 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 disliked anything it should be
rectified j and, having thus finished everything, he retired into Lorraine, 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 resolved to do was to go directly
to England, for there, I thought, being among my country-folks — for I
esteemed myself an English woman, though I was born in France — there,
I say, I thought I could better manage things than in France ; at least, that
I would be in less danger of being circumvented and deceived ; 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 repu
tation 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 employed my
maid Amy (such I must be allowed to call her, notwithstanding what has
been said of her, because she was in the place of a maid-servant); I say,
I employed 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
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 259
could 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 would give me bills for it, payable at
London; but then I ran a hazard of my money, and I had nobody 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 could have
recourse to, so that indeed I knew not what to do.
In this case I had not remedy but that I must trust somebody, so I
sent Amy to this Dutch merchant, as I said above. He was a little sur
prised when Amy came to him and talked to him of remitting a sum of
about twelve thousand pistoles 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 altered 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 a woman, and having no
correspondence in London, or anywhere else, I knew not what to do, or
how to secure my effects.
He dealt very candidly with me, but advised 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 could recommend me
to a man who perfectly understood jewels, and would deal faithfully with
me in the disposing them.
I thanked 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 concealed, I did not know how to venture with it. Then he told me
he would 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 pretended to buy the jewels. As soon as the
Jew saw the jewels I saw my folly, and it was ten thousand to one but I
had been ruined, and perhaps put to death in as cruel a manner as possible;
and I was put in such a 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 anything 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 could presently perceive that they were
in some great surprise, both of them. The Jew held up his hands, looked
at me with some horror, then talked 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 rage only, but in a mere fury. Then he
would turn and give a look at me like the devil. I thought I never saw
anything 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 would 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.'
260 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
'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.' ' Concerns 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 would 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 talked very
high, but in a language I did not understand. I began to be a little
surprised 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 called one of his servants to let him
know I desired to speak with him. When he came in I asked his pardon
for being so impatient, but told him I could not be easy 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 surprised 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 robbed,
going to Versailles, about eight years ago, to show them the Prince de ,
and that it was for these very jewels that the poor gentleman was murdered;
and he is in all this agony to make me ask you how you came by
them ; and, he says, you ought to be charged with the robbery and murder,
and put to the question 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 surprised
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
he came into the room, in English, at which I smiled, which put the Jew
into his mad fit again, and shaking his head and making his devil's faces
again, he seemed to threaten me for laughing, saying, in French, this was
an affair I should have little reason to laugh at, and the like. At this I
laughed again, and flouted him, letting him see that I scorned him, and
turning to the Dutch merchant, 'Sir', says I, 'that those jewels were be
longing to Mr. , the English jeweller* (naming his name readily), in
that', says I, 'this person is right; but that I should be questioned how
I came to have them is a token of his ignorance, which, however, he
might have managed with a little more good manners, till I told him who
I am, and both he and you too will be more easy in that part, when I
should tell you that I am the unhappy widow of that Mr who was
so barbarously murdered going to Versailles, and that he was not robbed
of those jewels, but of others, Mr having left those behind him with
me, lest he should be robbed. Had I, sir, come otherwise by them, I
should not have been weak enough to have exposed them to sale here,
where the thing was done, but have carried them farther ofiV
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 26 1
This was an agreeable surprise to the Dutch merchant, who, being an
honest man himself, believed everything I said, which, indeed, being all
really and literally true, except the deficiency of my marriage, I spoke
with such an unconcerned easiness, that it might plainly be seen that I
had not 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 raised his passion with saying he looked at me with the
devil's face, he studied mischief in his heart, and answered, that should
not serve my turn; so called the Dutchman out again, when he told him
that he resolved to prosecute this matter farther.
There was one kind chance in this affair, which, indeed, was my deliverance,
and that was, that the fool could 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 murder, 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 would be there again. Had he suspected
that the Dutchman would have communicated the particulars to me, he
would never have been so foolish as to have mentioned 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 would to another, for, upon examination, I could not have
proved myself to be the wife of the jeweller, so the suspicion might have
been carried on with the better face ; and then I should 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, would immed
iately have laid claim to the jewels, as I had owned them to be his.
This thought immediately rushed 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) convinced the Dutch merchant
that he was in earnest by an expression which showed 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 exclamations on account
of their having been concealed 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
looked 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 uneasy, and called him out, and, having heard
how it was, gave him that answer, that I was his wife, or widow, which
the malicious Jew said should not serve my turn. And then it was that
the Dutchman called 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 entered into proposals with him for the
thing itself.
In this they agreed to go to an advocate, or counsel, for directions how
to proceed, and to meet again the next day, against which time the
262 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 seized 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 everything he offered, and they agreed to
meet the next morning about it, and I was to be persuaded to leave the
jewels with him, and come to them the next day at four o'clock in order
to make a good bargain for them; and on these conditions they parted.
But the honest Dutchman, filled 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 could 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 authentic 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 J,
'what can they say to it? In England', added I, 'if they would offer
such an injury to any one, they must prove the fact or give just reason
for their suspicions. That my husband was murdered, that every one
knows; but that he was robbed, or of what, or how much, that none
knows — no, not myself; and why was I not questioned for it then? I have
lived in Paris ever since, lived publicly, and no man had yet the impu
dence to suggest such a thing of me.1
'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 showed 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 murdered my
husband, if he finds it for his turn.' 'That's true', said he; 'and if he
should, I do not see what could save you'; but added, 'I have found out
his more immediate design. His design is to have you carried to the
Chatelet, 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 oppressed by such an impudent fellow as this ; he that does not
value 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 public 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 should 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,
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 263
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 mur
derers of your husband.'
'Confess!' said 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.'
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 forced to confess themselves guilty of what
they never heard of, much less had any hand in.'
'What, then, must I do?' said I. 'What would you advise me to?'
'Why', says he, 'I would 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 would have
me ordered to bring the jewels the next day for sale, and that then he
would have me apprehended; how he had made the Jew believe he would
join with him in his design, and that he (the merchant) would get the
jewels into his hands. 'Now', says the merchant, 'I shall give you bills
for the money you desired, immediately, and such as shall not fail of
being paid. Take your jewels with you, and go this very evening to St
Germain-en-Laye; I'll send a man thither with you, and from thence he
shall guide you to-morrow to Rouen, 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 prepared everything 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 resolved to take to
delude the Jew while I made my escape, which was very well contrived
indeed. 'First', said he, 'when he comes to-morrow I shall tell him that
I proposed to you to leave the jewels with me, as we agreed, but that
you said you would come and bring them in the afternoon, so that we
must stay for you till four o'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
264 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 appeared much disappointed that he did not come, though you could
not meet the night before; and obliged me to have him here to-morrow
at three o'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 could not but approve all his measures, seeing they were so well
contrived, and in so friendly a manner, for my benefit ; and, as he seemed
to be so very sincere, I resolved to put my life in his hands. Immediately
I went to my lodgings, and sent away Amy with such bundles as I had
prepared for my travelling. I also sent several parcels of my fine fur
niture 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 finished our
matters of money, and I delivered into his hands seven thousand eight
hundred pistoles in bills and money, a copy of an assignment on the
townhouse of Paris for four thousand pistoles, at 3 per cent, interest,
attested, and a procuration for receiving the interest half-yearly; but the
original I kept myself.
I could 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, saved my life, or at least saved me
from being exposed and ruined — I say, after this, how could I doubt him
in anything?
When I came to him, he had everything ready as I wanted, and as he
had proposed. As to my money, he gave me first of all an accepted bill,
payable at Rotterdam, for four thousand pistoles, and drawn from Genoa
upon a merchant at Rotterdam, payable to a merchant at Paris, and
endorsed by him to my merchant ; this, he assured me, would 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 secured my
jewels too, as well as I could, he sent me away the same evening in a
friend's coach, which he had procured for me, to St Germain, and the
next morning to Rouen. He also sent a servant of his own on horseback
with me, who provided everything for me, and who carried his orders to
the captain of the ship, which lay about three miles below Rouen, 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 ruined 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 escaped ; and, had I had any religion or any sense of a Supreme
Power, managing, directing, and governing in both causes and events in
this world, such a case as this would have given anybody 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 threatened
me; but I had none of those things about me. I had, indeed, a grateful
sense upon my mind of the generous friendship of my deliverer, the Dutch
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 265
merchant, by whom I was so faithfully served, and by whom, as far as
relates to second causes, I was preserved from destruction.
I say, I had a grateful sense upon my mind of his kindness and faith
fulness to me, and I resolved 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 showed 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 contrived 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 refused, 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 passed in the ship between Dover and Calais, and saw beloved
England once more under my view — England, which I counted my native
country, being the place I was bred up in, though not born there — a
strange kind of joy possessed 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 could not do it — that is, that he durst not do it, if I would have
given him a hundred pistoles — I secretly wished that a storm would rise
that might drive the ship over to the coast of England, whether they would
or not, that I might be set on shore anywhere 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 considered 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 could not have managed it without going
myself. But we had not been out of sight of England many hours before
the weather began to change; the winds whistled 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 sunset, and we were passed by Dunkirk, and
I think they said we were in sight of Ostend; but then the wind grew
high, and the sea swelled, and all things looked 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 freshened 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 Rochelle 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 alarmed 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 called it, it struck me
266 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
with such horror (the darkness, the fierceness of the wind, the dreadful
height of the waves, and the hurry the Dutch sailors were in, whose
language I did not understand one word of, neither when they cursed or
when they prayed); I say, all these things together filled me with terror,
and, in short, I began to be very much frighted.
When I was come back into the great cabin, there sat Amy, who was
very sea-sick, and I had a little before given her a sup of cordial waters
to help her stomach. When Amy saw me come back and sit down without
speaking, for so I did, she looked 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 an't well ; what is the matter ? '
I said nothing still, but held up my hands two or three times. Amy
doubled 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 looked too, as I had bidden her; but the poor girl came back again
in the greatest amazement and horror that ever I saw any poor creature
in, wringing her hands and crying out she was undone! she was undone!
she should be drowned ! they were all lost ! Thus she ran about the cabin
like a mad thing, and as perfectly out of her senses as any one in such
a case could be supposed 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 hoped we should
not be drowned; that it was true the storm was very dreadful, but I did
not see that the seamen were so much concerned as we were. And so I
talked to her as well as I could, though my heart was full enough of it,
as well as Amy's; and death began to stare in my face; ay, and something
else too — that is to say, conscience, and my mind was very much disturbed ;
but I had nobody to comfort me.
But Amy being in so much worse a condition — that is to say, so much
more terrified 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 cabin, crying out she was undone ! undone ! she should be drowned !
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
cabin, and laid her as dead as a stone upon the floor or deck; that is to
say, she was so to all appearance.
I cried out for help, but it had been all one to have cried out on the
top of a mountain where nobody had been within five miles of me, for
the seamen were so engaged and made so much noise that nobody heard
me or came near me. I opened the great cabin door, and looked into the
steerage to cry for help, but there, to increase my fright, was two seamen
on their knees at prayers, and only one man who steered, 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 called to him to tell him which
way to steer.
Here was no help for me, or for poor Amy, and there she lay still BO,
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
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 267
a little bottle out of my pocket, and I held it to her nose, and rubbed
her temples, and what else I could do, but still Amy showed 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 remembered nothing at first of what had happened
to her for a good while more.
When she recovered more fully, she asked 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 occasioned by her fall). 'Calm, Amy!' says
I. 'Tis far from calm. It may be it will be calm by-and-by, when we
are all drowned and gone to heaven.'
'Heaven, madam!' says she. 'What makes you talk so? Heaven! I
go to heaven ! No, no ; if I am drowned I am damned ! Don't you know
what a wicked creature I have been? I have been a whore to two men,
and have lived a wretched, abominable life of vice and wickedness for
fourteen years. Oh, madam! you know it, and God knows it, and now I
am to die — to be drowned ! Oh ! what will become of me ? I am undone
for ever! — ay, madam, for ever! to all eternity! Oh! I am lost! I am lost!
If I am drowned, 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 occurred 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 stripped her,
and prostituted her to the very man that I had been naught with myself;
that she had but followed me, I had been her wicked example ; and I had
led her into all ; and that, as we had sinned 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 enticed 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 sighed and mourned inwardly; but Amy, as her temper was more
violent, spoke aloud, and cried, and called out aloud, like one in agony.
I had but small encouragement to give her, and indeed could 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 lived,
crying out she should be damned, 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 cried out, though softly, two or three times 'Lord, have mercy
upon me!' To this I added abundance of resolutions of what a life I
would 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.
268 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
Under these dreadful apprehensions I looked back on the life I had led
with the utmost contempt and abhorrence. I blushed, and wondered at
myself how I could act thus, how I could divest myself of modesty and
honour, and prostitute myself for gain; and I thought, if ever it should
please God to spare me this one time from death, it would not be possible
that I should be the same creature again.
Amy went farther; she prayed, she resolved, she vowed to lead a new
life, if God would spare her but this time. It now began to be daylight,
for the storm held all night long, and it was some comfort to see the
light of another day, which none of us expected ; but the sea went moun
tains 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 damaged, that, if
they had not laid her on shore the same day, she would have sunk before
night, according to the opinion of the seamen, and of the workmen on
shore too, who were hired to assist them in stopping their leaks.
Amy was revived as soon as she heard they had espied land, and went
out upon the deck ; but she soon came in again to me. ' Oh, madam 1 '
says she, 'there's the land, indeed, to be seen. It looks like a ridge of
clouds, and may be all a cloud for aught 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 dreadfullest sight to look at the waves
that ever was seen. Why, they are as high as mountains; we shall cer
tainly be all swallowed up, for all the land is so near.'
I had conceived some hope that, if they saw land, we should be deliv
ered; 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
would make into some harbour; but it was, as Amy said, a frightful
distance to it. The land looked like clouds, and the sea went as high as
mountains, so that no hope appeared in the seeing the land, but we were
in fear of foundering before we could reach it. This made Amy so de
sponding 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
stepped to the steerage-door and looked out, I saw the land much nearer
than Amy represented it; so I went in and encouraged Amy again, and
indeed was encouraged myself.
In about an hour, or something more, we saw, 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, though against my will and contrary to my true
interest, what I wished for, to be driven away to England, though 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 vanished with it ; ay, and our fear of what
was beyond death also. Our sense of the life we had lived went off, and
with our return to life our wicked taste of life returned, and we were both
the same as before, if not worse. So certain is it, that the repentance
which is brought about by the mere apprehensions of death, wears off as
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 269
those apprehensions wear off; and deathbed repentance, or storm repent
ance, 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; especially poor Amy. As soon
as she set her foot on shore she fell flat upon the ground and kissed 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 ailed 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, I know not well what to
call it; I had a mind full of horror 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 could not break
out either in words or tears, and which was therefore much the worse
to bear.
I had a terror upon me for my wicked life past, and firmly believed 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
looked back upon my wickedness with abhorrence, as I have said above,
but I had no sense 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 thorough
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 com
mitted the crime, as it is a crime, but sorry that he is to be hanged
for it.
It is true Amy's repentance 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 public-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 a
fortnight, and then go for Holland, as we intended, and as business
required.
Reason directed that I should 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 acquaintance with some people
of figure, which was what I loved ; whereas now I knew not one creature
in the whole city of London, or anywhere else, that I could go and make
myself known to. Upon these considerations, I resolved to go to Holland,
whatever came of it.
But Amy cried and trembled, and was ready to fall into fits, when I
did but mention going upon the sea again, and begged of me not to go,
or if I would go, that I would leave her behind, though I was to send
her a-begging. The people in the inn laughed at her, and jested with her,
asked her if she had any sins to confess that she was ashamed should be
270 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 would 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 confessed,
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 returned to London, fly at her husband, and make such
a stir as was indeed the ruin of the whole family. Amy could bear all
that well enough, for though 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 exposed.
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 obliged 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 received me with extraordinary respect. And
first he acknowledged the accepted bill for four thousand pistoles, which he
afterwards paid punctually; other bills that I had also, payable at Amster
dam, he procured to be received for me; and, whereas one of the bills for
one thousand two hundred crowns was protested at Amsterdam, he paid
it me himself, for the honour of the indorser, as he called it, which was
my friend the merchant at Paris.
There I entered into a negotiation 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 desired by the gentleman that I was with to see that I might not be
imposed 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 received a letter from her friend, as she called him.
That, by the way, was the prince's gentleman, that had been Amy's ex
traordinary friend indeed, for Amy owned to me he had lain with her a
hundred times, that is to say, as often as he pleased, and perhaps in the
eight years which that affair lasted it might be a great deal oftener. This
was what she called her friend, who she corresponded with upon this parti-
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 2; I
cular subject, and, among other things, sent her this particular news, that my
extraordinary friend, my real husband, who rode in the gens d'armes, was
dead, that he was killed 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 duchess, nothing will.' But I had not fixed 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 looked upon
as but an upper servant, 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, 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 forced to sit still and bear it, or
part, and be undone; a mistress insulted helps herself immediately, and
takes another.
These were my 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 skulks about in lodgings, is visited in the dark, disowned
upon all occasions before God and man; is maintained, indeed, for a
time, but is certainly condemned to be abandoned 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 ashamed 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 befalls 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
unfeigned his repentance is, the more earnestly he looks up, and the more
effectually he looks in, the more his aversion to her increases, and he curses
her from the bottom of his soul; nay, it must be 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 could 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 received 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
272 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
kept him in suspense, expecting me to come again; and how he raged
when he found I came no more.
It seems, after he found I did not come, he found out by his unwearied
inquiry where I had lived, and that I had been kept as a mistress by some
great person; but he could never learn by who, except, that he learnt the
colour of his livery. In pursuit of this inquiry he guessed at the right
person, but could not make it out, or offer any positive proof of it ; but
he found out the prince's gentleman, and talked so saucily to him of it
that the gentleman treated him, as the French call it, a coup de baton —
that is to say, caned him very severely, as he deserved; 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 superiors ; adding that he
should 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 accessory to the murder of the jeweller, etc.
The merchant found by his discourse that he supposed 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 would have been obliged to have produced 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 falsely to accuse the widow of the jeweller for the
supposed murder of her husband ; that he did it purely to get the jewels
from her; and that he offered to bring him (the merchant) in, to be con
federate with him, and to share the jewels between them ; proving also
his design to get the jewels into his hands, and then to have dropped the
prosecution upon condition of my quitting the jewels to him. Upon this
charge he got him laid by the heels ; so he was sent to the Conciergerie —
that is to say, to Bridewell — and the merchant cleared. He got out of
jail in a little while, though not without the help of money, and continued
teasing the merchant a long while, and at last threatening to assassinate
and murder 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 surprised one morning, when, being at the merchant's house who
he had recommended me to in Rotterdam, and being busy 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
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 273
city where everybody passes by water; but he had, it seems, ferried over
the Maas from Willemstadt, 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 j but, as I say, was surprised, and indeed more than ordinar
ily surprised, 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 surprise to me, and I was exceeding glad
to see him, who was so honourable and so kind to me, and who indeed
had saved my life. As soon as he saw me, he ran to me, took me in his
arms, and kissed me with a freedom that he never offered to take with
me before. 'Dear Madam ', says he, 'I am glad to see you safe in
this country; if you had stayed two days longer in Paris you had been
undone.' I was so glad to see him, that I could not speak a good while,
and I burst out into tears without speaking a word for a minute; but I
recovered that disorder, and said, ' The more, sir, is my obligation to you
that saved my life'; and added, 'I am glad to see you here, that I may
consider how to balance 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 could 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 lodged,
and the room he lay in opened, as he was wishing it would, just opposite
to my lodging-room, so we could almost call out of bed to one another;
and I was not at all shy of him on that score, for I believed 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 everything that happened
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 durst 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, would make a woman go anywhere.
He seemed 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
IS
274 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
coast, they can always stand away for another, and run afore it ', as he
called 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 would have
sunk in the very harbour; and when I told him that when I looked out
at the cabin-door, I saw the Dutchmen, one upon his knees here, and
another there, at their prayers, then, indeed, he acknowledged I had reason
to be alarmed; but, smiling, he added, 'But you, madam', says he, 'are
so good a lady, and so pious, you would 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 turn in my veins, and
I thought I should have fainted. 'Poor gentleman', thought I, 'you know
little of me. What would I give to be really what you really think me
to be!' He perceived the disorder, but said nothing till I spoke; when,
shaking my head, 'Oh, sir!' said I, 'death in any shape has some terror
in it, but in the frightful figure of a storm at sea and a sinking ship, it
comes with a double, a treble, and indeed an inexpressible horror; and if
I were that saint you think me to be (which God knows I am not), it is
still very dismal. I desire to die in a calm, if I can.' He said a great
many good things, and very prettily ordered his discourse between serious
reflection and compliment, but I had too much guilt to relish it as it was
meant, so I turned it off to something else, and talked of the necessity I
had on me to come to Holland, but I wished 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
welfare, and, besides, had such further designs upon me, that, if I had not
so happily been found in Holland, he was resolved 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 obliged 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 anything could increase the debt; for I owed my life to him
already, and I could not be in debt for anything more valuable than that.
He answered in the most obliging manner possible, that he would 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 resolved 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 gust to any more intriguing. However, he surprised 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 lived in the same house all this while, and as we lodged not far
off of one another, opportunities were not wanting of as near an acquaint
ance 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, though he courted so much at a distance, yet his pretensions
were very honourable ; and, as I had before found him a most disinterested
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 275
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 would 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 would agree to his proposals, would more than balance all
accounts between us. I told him I could not reasonably deny him
anything; and, except one thing, which I hoped and believed he would not
think of, I should think myself very ungrateful if I did not do everything
for him that lay in my power.
He told me what he should desire of me would be fully in my power
to grant, or else he should be very unfriendly to offer it ; and still, all this
while, he declined making the proposal, as he called 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 helped him, and was in
gratitude bound to have done so, he having so effectually saved to me all
I had, so I resolved to make him the offer the first time I had an oppor
tunity which, two or three days after, offered itself, very much to my
satisfaction.
He had told me at large, though on several occasions, the treatment he
had met with from the Jew, and what expense he had put him to; how at
length he had cast him, as above, and had recovered good damage of him,
but that the rogue was unable to make him any considerable reparation.
He had told me also how the Prince de 's gentleman had resented
his treatment of his master, and how he had caused him to be used upon
the Pont Neuf, &c., as I have mentioned above, which I laughed at most
heartily.
'It is a pity', said I, 'that I should sit here and make that gentleman
no amends; if you would direct me, sir', said I, 'how to do it, I would
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 would do what
I directed in it; so I told him I would send him five hundred 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 obliged to do nothing in it, for neither of us knew
how to direct a letter to him, or to direct anybody to him ; so I told him
I would leave it till I came to England, for that my woman, Amy, corre
sponded 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 expense you have
been obliged to be at, which was all on my account, should be repaid
you; and therefore', said I, 'let me see .' And there I paused, and
began to reckon up what I had observed, 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
pulled 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 would have nothing of me on that
276 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
account, and desired I would 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, though it was with a good design, yet he would punish
himself with the expense he had been at for his being so unlucky to me;
that I could not think so hard of him as to suppose he would 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 would 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 even all that favour, as
I called it, at once, so we should talk it over another time, and balance
all together.
Now I expected it would come out, but still he put it off, as before,
from whence I concluded it could not be matter of love, for that those
things are not usually delayed 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 seemed backward to
mention his case, I begged leave of him to give me leave to ask him
whether anything 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 would let him have any
sum for his occasion, as far as five or six thousand pistoles, and he should
pay me as his own affairs would permit ; and that, if he never paid me, I
would assure him that I would never give him any trouble for it.
He rose 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 esteemed the ordinary usage of the Dutch ; and, after his compliment
was over, he came nearer to me, and told me he was obliged to assure
me, though with repeated acknowledgments 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 me, and by granting which
I should balance all obligations; but that, in short, it was that, seeing
Providence had (as it were for that purpose) taken his wife from him, I
would make up the loss to him ; and with that he held me fast in his
arms, and, kissing me, would 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
should propose that thing only that I could not grant.
I could not but smile, however, to myself that he should make so many
circles and roundabout 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 resolved not to have him, when, at the same time, if he had
courted me in a manner less honest or virtuous, I believe I should 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 should not; but I resisted them obstinately, and
yet with expressions of the utmost kindness and respect for him that could
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 2/7
be imagined, often telling him there was nothing else in the world that
I could deny him, and showing 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 flattered himself, would
not fail; nor would he have been mistaken, perhaps, in any other woman
in the world but me. This was, to try if he could 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 fancied he pushed the mirth to watch for his advantage,
and I resolved that I would at least feign to be as merry as he; and that,
in short, if he offered anything he should have his will easily enough.
About one o'clock in the morning (for so long we sat up together), I
said, 'Come, 'tis one o'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
would 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 could
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, latched it, for I seldom
locked 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 be gone ; 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 clothes 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 resolved from the beginning he should lie with me if he would, 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, 'though I have pushed 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 done to-morrow morning; and I will give you the same fair
conditions of marriage as I would have done before.'
This, it must be owned, was a testimony that he was very honest, and
that he loved me sincerely; but I construed it quite another way, namely,
278 TIIE LIFE OF ROXANA
that he aimed at the money. But how surprised 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 could not grant !
He was astonished. 'What! not take me now', says he, 'when I have
been a-bed with you!' I answered coldly, though respectfully still, 'It is
true, to my shame be it spoken', says I, 'that you have taken me by
surprise, 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 exposed myself to you, but I cannot go
any farther.' And at that point I stood, and would 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
should 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 pounds 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 bite 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 declined marrying him ; and,
as he had refused the thousand pistoles which I had offered him in com
pensation 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 amazed, and, I had some reason to believe, repented
that he had refused the money.
But thus it is, when men run into wicked measures to bring their designs
about. I, that was infinitely obliged to him before, began to talk to him
as if I had balanced 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 owed him for saving my life and all my effects.
But he drew himself into it, and though it was a dear bargain, yet it
was a bargain of his own making; he could not say I had tricked him
into it. But as he projected and drew me in to lie with him, depending
that was a sure game in order to a marriage, so I granted him the favour,
as he called it, to balance the account of favours received 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 not have attempted
me the other way, so, I believed, if it had not been for the money which
he knew I had, he would never have desired to marry me after he had
lain with me. For where is the man that cares to marry a whore, though
of his own making ? And as I knew him to be no fool, so I did him no
wrong when I supposed that, but for the money, he would not have had
any thoughts of me that way, especially after my yielding as I had done;
in which it is to be remembered, that I made no capitulation for marrying
him when I yielded to him, but let him do just what he pleased, without
any previous bargain.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 279
Well, hitherto we went upon guesses at one another's designs; but, as
he continued to importune me to marry, though he had lain with me, and
still did lie with me as often as he pleased, and I continued to refuse to
marry him, though I let him lie with me whenever he desired it ; I say,
as these two circumstances made up our conversation, it could 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 sighed, and told me he desired my
leave to ask me one question, and that I would give him an answer to it
with the same ingenious freedom and honesty that I had used to treat him
with. I told him I would. Why, then, his question was, why I would
not marry him, seeing I allowed 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 confessed it was the only thing I could 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 supposed 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
tiatrimony only excepted, and he could not but see that I loved 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 exposed me to ; that I had an aversion to it, and
desired he would not insist upon it. He might easily see I had no aversion
to him ; and that, if I was with child by him, he should see a testimony
of my kindness to the father, for that I would 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 refused
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 removed the objection I must needs comply, for I should
certainly do everything that I had no objection against.
'Why then, my dear, it must be that either you are already engaged or
married 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 stopped, and I have no
more to say ; but if it be the last, I am prepared effectually 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 engaged 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
280 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 should see he was
able to maintain me without it, and that it was not for that that he followed
me from Paris.
I was indeed surprised 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, removed 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 should agree with him, I
then did as good as confess that it was upon the account of my money
that I refused him ; and that, though I could give up my virtue and expose
myself, yet I would not give up my money, which, though it was true, yet
was really too gross for me to acknowledge, and I could 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 Gothic and inhuman,
but would be always a foundation of unkindness between us, and render
us suspected one to another; so that, upon the whole, I was obliged 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, different notions of matrimony from what the
received 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, could 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 Israelites, who
had his ears bored (that is, nailed to the door-post) who by that act gave
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
everything to the man, and the woman was indeed a mere woman ever
after — that is to say, a slave.
He replied, that, though 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 devolved 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 around
her, be waited on and made much of, be served and loved and made easy,
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
unconcerned in the world; that they had the name of subjection without
the thing; and, if in inferior 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
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 28 1
name of subjection, indeed, but that they generally commanded, not the
men only, but all they had; managed all for themselves; and, where the
man did his duty, the woman's life was all ease and tranquillity, and that
she had nothing to do but to be easy, and to make all that were about
her both easy and merry.
I returned, that while a woman was single, she was a masculine in her
politic capacity; 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 separate
capacity, to all intents and purposes that a man could be so to himself;
that she was controlled by none, because accountable to none, and was in
subjection to none. So I sung these two lines of Mr 's;
Oh! 'tis pleasant to be free,
The sweetest Miss is Liberty.
1 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 gratify 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
could be.
All he could say could 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 should be content with that
which all the world was contented with ; that he was of the opinion that
a sincere affection between a man and his wife answered all the objec
tions that I had made about the being a slave, a servant, and the like;
and where there was a mutual love there could be no bondage, but that
there was but one interest, one aim, one design, and all conspired to make
both very happy.
' Ay ', said 1, ' that is the thing I complain of. The pretence of affection
takes from a woman everything that can be called 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 engulfed 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 splendour that a plentiful fortune ought
to allow her, with her coaches and equipages, her family and rich furniture,
her attendants and friends, her visitors and good company, all about her
to-day; to-morrow surprised with a disaster, turned out of all by a com
mission of bankrupt, stripped to the clothes on her back; her jointure,
suppose she had it, is sacrificed to the creditors so long as her husband
lived, and she turned 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, and live there on the wreck of his fortunes, till he is forced to run
away from her even there; and then she sees her children starve, herself
282 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
miserable, breaks her heart, and cries herself to death! This', says I, 'is
the state of many a lady that has had £ 10,000 to her portion.'
He did not know how feelingly I spoke this, and what extremities I had
gone through of this kind ; how near I was to the very last article above,
viz. crying myself to death; aud how I really starved for almost two
years together.
But he shook his head, and said, where had I lived? and what dreadful
families had I lived 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, launched 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 would 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 desired the management of our estate, when put together, if I
wonld not trust him with mine, he would trust me with his ; that we would
be upon one bottom, and I should steer. 'Ay', says I, "you'll allow me
to steer — that is, hold the helm; but you'll con 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 laughed at my simile. 'No', says he; 'you shall be pilot then; you
shall con 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 placed at your footstool; all the rest, all that you call
oneness of interest, mutual affection, and the like, is courtesy and kindness
then, and a woman is indeed infinitely obliged 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 fixed state of life, which
God had appointed for man's felicity, and for establishing a legal posterity ;
that there could 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 talked upon that subject indeed.
But it would 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
would not be generous to make use of it. I readily grant that it were
better for me to have married you than to admit you to the liberty I have
given you, but, as I could 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 suffered 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 seemed to be concerned to think that I should take him in that
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 283
manner. He assured me that I misunderstood 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 aggressor in, and had surprised
me into ; that what he spoke referred to my words above, that the woman,
if she thought fit, might entertain a man, as a man did a mistress; and
that I seemed to mention that way of living as justifiable, and setting it
as a lawful thing, and in the place of matrimony.
Well, we strained some compliments upon those points, not worth
repeating ; and, I added, I supposed 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 discoursed 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 would be adding one weakness to another to take the
man afterwards, to pin down the shame of it upon herself all the days
of her life, and bind herself to live all her time with the only man
that could 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 called 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 circum
stances of living direct; and, if they keep one another's counsel, the folly
is heard no more of. 'But to take the man', says I, 'is the most pre
posterous 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 lie 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 some time 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 outlives it, and
hears no more of it.'
He was confounded at this discourse, and told me he could not say but
I was right in the main. That, as to that part relating to managing estates,
it was arguing a la cavalier; it was in some sense 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 turned 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 i>obody was trusted,
nobody would be deceived, and the staff in their own hands was the best
security in the world.
He replied, that I had started a new thing in the world; that however
284 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I might support it by subtle reasoning, yet it was a way of arguing that
was contrary to the general practice, and that, he confessed, he was much
disappointed in it; that, had he known I would have made such a use of
it, he would 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 should 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, notwith
standing what had passed, he had nothing to do but 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 pleased 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
would have had ; and thus I was in a kind of suspense, irresolute, and
doubtful what course to take.
I was in the house with him, as I have observed, 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, though I had a great deal of substance, which indeed,
having no friends there, was the more dangerous to me.
This obliged 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, ' L 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 over
all the world with you, if you desire me to, except to Paris, where you
know I can't go.'
'It is a pity so much love', said he, 'on both sides should 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 anywhere, he said, without me, but he must go
to Paris or the East Indies.
I told him I did not use to court, but I durst venture myself to the East
Indies with him, if there was a necessity of his going.
He told me, God be thanked, he was in no necessity of going anywhere,
but that he had a tempting invitation to go to the Indies.
I answered, I would say nothing to that, but that I desired he would
go anywhere but to Paris, because there he knew I must not go.
He said he had no remedy but to go where I could not go, for he could
not bear to see me if he must not have me.
I told him that was the unkindest thing he could 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 could not yield to.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 285
This amazed him, and he told me I was pleased to be mysterious, but
that he was sure it was in nobody's power to hinder him going, if he
resolved upon it, except me, who had influence enough upon him to make
him do anything.
Yes, I told him, I could hinder him, because I knew he could no more
do an unkind thing by me than he could 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 would I be so unkind not to tell him that before?
I told him 'twas hard that, to have him stay, I should be forced 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, shown
myself unwilling to part with him, but offered to go to the East Indies
with him; and, except one thing that I could not grant, what could he
ask more?
He stood mute a good while, but afterwards told me he had a great
deal more to say if I could assure him that 1 would 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 anything ill, let it be what it would.
' Why, then ', he said, ' I hope you believe, madam, I was born a
Christian, and that I have some sense of sacred things upon my mind.
When I first broke in upon my own virtue and assaulted yours ; when I
surprised, and, as it were, forced you to that which neither you intended
or I designed but a few hours before, it was upon a presumption that you
would -certainly marry me, if once I could go that length with you, and it
was with an honest resolution to make you my wife.
'But I have been surprised with such a denial that no woman in such
circumstances ever gave to a man; for certainly it was never known that
any woman refused 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, though 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 ruined
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
should 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 ashamed of. I
cannot, therefore ', says he, ' but beg and entreat you, as you are a Christian
and a mother, not to let the innocent lamb you go with be ruined 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,
286 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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,
though I did, with the view I have mentioned, one unjustifiable action, I
cannot say that I could satisfy myself to live in a continual practice of
what in judgment we must both condemn; and, though 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 passed between us, and by
offering to quit all pretensions to any part of your estate, so that I should,
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, notwith
standing 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 possessed of the
devil. I was inflexible, and pretended 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 used with me, though with the utmost respect, replied. '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 expense of modesty?'
I returned, that he mistook me; I did not propose it; I only said that
those that could not be content without concerning the sexes in that affaii
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 would do so; and though, by
what had passed, 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 could not promise that for himself, and thought he
ought not to trust himself with the opportunity, for that, as he had failed
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 could 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 could he do? And he
hoped, he said, I could not blame him that he was unwilling anything
that was to call him father should upbraid him with leaving him in the
world to be called bastard; adding that he was astonished to think how
I could satisfy myself to be so cruel to an innocent infant not yet born;
professed he could neither bear the thoughts of it, much less bear to see
it, and hoped I would not take it ill that he could not stay to see me
delivered, for that very reason.
I saw he spoke this with a disturbed mind, and that it was with some
difficulty that he restrained his passion, so I declined any farther discourse
upon it ; only said I hoped he would consider of it. ' Oh, madam ! ', says
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 287
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 easy to be
seen in his countenance.
If I had not been one of the foolishest as well as wickedest creatures
upon earth, I could never have acted thus. I had one of the honestest,
completest gentlemen upon earth at my hand. He had in one sense saved
my life, but he had saved that life from ruin in a most remarkable,
manner. He loved me even to distraction, and had come from Paris to
Rotterdam on purpose to seek me. He had offered me marriage even after
I was with child by him, and had offered 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 would have purchased even then above
two thousand pounds a year, and I might have lived 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. I continued obstinate
against matrimony, and yet I could not bear the thoughts of his going
away neither. As to the child, I was not very anxious about it. I told
him I would promise him it should never come to him to upbraid him
with its being illegitimate ; that, if it was a boy, I would 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 resolved to go, I retired, but could
not help letting him see the tears run down my cheeks. He came to me
and kissed me, entreated me, conjured me by the kindness he had shown
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 expenses with that traitor the Jew, by the pledge of our mis
fortunes (so he called it) which I carried with me, and by all that the
sincerest affection could propose to do, that I would not drive him away.
But it would not do. I was stupid and senseless, 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 delivered, and
how he might give me an answer; and this I engaged my word I would
do. And, upon his desiring to be informed which way I intended to
dispose of myself, I told him I resolved to go directly to England, and
to London, where I proposed to lie in ; but, since he resolved to leave me,
I told him I supposed it would be of no consequence to him what be
came 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 desired of me that, as he had remitted to me
the offer of a thousand pistoles which I would have given him for the
recompense of his charges and trouble with the Jew, and had given it me
back, so he desired I would allow him to oblige me to set apart that
thousand pistoles, with its improvement, for the child, and for its educa
tion; earnestly pressing me to secure that little portion for the abandoned
orphan when I should think fit, as he was sure I would, to throw away
the rest upon something as worthless as my sincere friend at Paris. He
288 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
concluded with moving me to reflect, with the same regret as he did, on
our follies we had committed together ; asked me forgiveness for being the
aggressor in the fact, and forgave me everything, he said, but the cruelty
of refusing him, which he owned he could not forgive me so heartily as
he should do, because he was satisfied it was an injury to myself, would
be an introduction to my ruin, and that I would seriously repent of it. He
foretold some fatal things which, he said, he was well assured I should
fall into, and that, at last, I would be ruined by a bad husband ; bid me
be the more wary, that I might render him a false prophet ; but to re
member that, if ever I came into distress, I had a fast friend at Paris,
who would not upbraid me with the unkind things past, but would be
always ready to return me good for evil.
This letter stunned me. I could 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 befall me with such an assur
ance that it frighted me beforehand; and when those things did come to
pass, I was persuaded he had some more than human 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 promises of assistance, if I wanted
him, were so generous that I have seldom seen the like ; and, though I did
not at first set much by that part because I looked 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 melancholy, and
I cried four-and-twenty hours after, almost without ceasing, about it; and
yet even all this while, whatever it was that bewitched me, I had not one
serious wish that I had taken him. I wished heartily, indeed, that I could
have kept him with me, but I had a mortal aversion to marrying him, or
indeed anybody else, but formed 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 would try my fortune at London, come of it
what would.
Thus, blinded by my own vanity, I threw away the only opportunity I
then had to have effectually settled my fortunes, and secured 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 infatuation from
hell run 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 o
the highest rank. I never forgot that the Prince de had said, with
an ecstasy, that I was the finest woman in France. I knew I could make
a figure at London, and how well I could grace that figure. I was not at
a loss how to behave, and, having already been adored 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 would have given half I had in the world for him back
again; my notion of things changed in an instant, and I called myself a
thousand fools for casting myself upon a life of scandal and hazard, when,
after the shipwreck of virtue, honour, and principle, and sailing at the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 289
utmost risk 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 terrified 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 filled my head with a thousand anxieties
and thoughts how it should 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,
etc., 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 should 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 mentioned above. Again, I was afraid to write to him to
return, lest he should have refused, as I verily believed he would; so I
sat and cried intolerably 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 served 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, used 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 earrings 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, etc. I say I sold them at the Hague for
7600 pistoles. I had received all the bills which the merchant had helped
me to at Paris, and with the money I brought with me they made up
13,900 pistoles more; so that I had in ready money, and in account in
the bank at Amsterdam, above one-and-twenty thousand pistoles, 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
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 risk 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 bills 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, refused 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 Brill in
the packet-boat, and arrived safe at Harwich, where my woman Amy was
come by my direction to meet me.
I would 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 could not be,
so I was obliged to bear with that part, and get rid of it H? the ordinary
method of patience and a hard travail.
19
290 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I was above the contemptible usage that women in my circumstance*
oftentimes meet with. I had considered all that beforehand ; 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 hired me
two maids and a footman, who she had put in a good livery ; and, having
hired a glass coach 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 arrived in very good health, and where I passed for a
a French lady, by the title of .
My first business was to get all my bills accepted, which, to
cut the story short, were all both accepted and currently paid ; and I
then resolved 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, I easily managed without anybody's
offering the usual insults of parish inquiries. 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 to come to it at all, but take handsome large
apartments in the Pall Mall, in a house out of which was a private door
into the king's garden, by the permission of the chief gardener, who had
lived in the house.
I had now all my effects secured ; 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 an annual interest. However, in some time, I got a substantial safe
mortgage for £14,000 by the assistance of the famous Sir Robert Clayton,
for which I had an estate of £1800 a year bound to me, and had £700
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 would 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 would
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 hoped I would
make good what he had begged for the poor infant, as I had promised,
and I sent him word again that I would fulfil 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 stooped 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 would come over now, I would 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 vexed
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 begged of me before.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
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 a year for my new apartments, for I took them by the year ;
but then they were handsome lodgings indeed, and very richly furnished.
I kept my own servants to clean and look after them, found my own kitchen
ware and firing. My equipage was handsome, but not very great; I had
a coach, a coachman, a footman, my woman Amy, who I now dressed
like a gentlewoman and made her my companion, and three maids ; and
thus I lived for a time. I dressed to the height of every mode, went
extremely rich in clothes, and, as for jewels, I wanted none. I gave a very
good livery, laced with silver, and as rich as anybody below the nobility
could be seen with ; and thus I appeared, leaving the world to guess who
or what I was, without offering to put myself forward.
I walked sometimes in the Mall 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 unconcerned about me as I seemed to be about them;
and, first, I understood that the neighbours began to be mighty inquisitive
about me, as who I was, and what my circumstances were.
Amy was the only person that could 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 £40,000, all in my own
hands, and the like.
This was all wrong in Amy, and in me too, though we did not see it
at first, for this recommended me indeed to those sort of gentlemen they
call fortune-hunters, and who always besieged ladies, as they called it — on
purpose to take them prisoners, as I called 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 offered
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 aud good estates, but who,
living to the .extent of them, were always needy and necessitous, and
wanted a sum of money to make themselves easy, as they call it — that is
to say, to pay off encumbrances, sisters' portions, and the like; and then
the woman is prisoner for life, and may live as they give her leave.
This life I had seen into clearly enough, and therefore I was not to be
catched 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 answered
them well enough, that I lived 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 could make me I could mend my fortune;
that I might be honoured with titles indeed, and in time rank on public
occasions with the peeresses (I mention that, because one that offered 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 a year of my own I
292 THE LIFE QF ROXANA
was happier than I could be in being prisoner of state to a nobleman, for
I took the ladies of that rank to be little better.
As I have mentioned Sir Robert Clayton, with whom I had the good
fortune to become acquainted, on account of the mortgage which he helped
me to, it is necessary to take notice that I had much advantage in my
ordinary affairs by his advice, and therefore I called it my good fortune;
for, as he paid me so considerable an annual income as £ 700 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 inclined to marry, he frequently took occasion to hint how soon
I might raise my fortune to a prodigious height, if I would but order my
family economy so far within my revenue as to lay up every year some
thing to add to the capital.
I was convinced 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 supposed
by my own discourse, and especially by my woman Amy, that I had
£2000 a year income. He judged, as he said, by my way of living that
I could not spend above one thousand, and so, he added, I might prudently
lay by £ 1000 every year to add to the capital; and by adding every year
the additional interest or income of the money to the capital, he proved
to me that in ten years I should double the £ 1000 per annum that I laid
by. And he drew me out a table, as he called it, of the increase, for me
to judge by; and by which, he said, if the gentlemen of England would
but act so, every family of them would increase their fortunes to a great
degree, just as merchants do by trade; whereas now, says Sir Robert, by
the humour of living up to the extent of their fortunes, and rather beyond,
the gentlemen, says he, ay, and the nobility too, are almost all of^them
borrowers, and all in necessitous circumstances.
As Sir Robert frequently visited me, and was (if I may say so from his
own mouth) very well pleased with my way of conversing with him, for
he knew nothing, not so much as guessed at what I had been ; I say, as
he came often to see me, so he always entertained me with this scheme
of frugality; and, one time, he brought another paper, wherein he showed
me, much to the same purpose as the former, to what degree I should
increase my estate, if I would come into his method of contracting my
expenses ; and by this scheme of his, it appeared that, laying up a thousand
pounds a year, and every year adding the interest to it, I should in twelve
years' time have in bank one-and-twenty thousand and fifty-eight pounds,
after which I might lay up two thousand pounds a year.
I objected, that I was a young woman, that I had been used to live
plentifully, and with a good appearance, and that I knew not how to be
a miser.
He told me, that if I thought I had enough it was well, but that if I
desired to have more, this was the way; that in another twelve years I
should be too rich, so that I should not know what to do with it.
'Ay, sir', says I, 'you are contriving how to make me a rich old woman,
but that won't answer my end ; I had rather have £ 20,000 now than
£60,000 when I am fifty years old.'
'Then, madam', says he, 'I suppose your honour has no children?'
•None, Sir Robert', said I, 'but what are provided for.' So I left him
in the dark as much as I found him. However, I considered his scheme
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 293
very well, though I said no more to him at that time, and I resolved,
though I would make a very good figure, I say I resolved to abate a little
of my expense, and draw in, live closer, and save something, if not so
much as he proposed to me. It was near the end of the year that Sir
Robert made this proposal to me, and, when the year was up, I went to
his house in the City, and there I told him I came to thank him for his
scheme of frugality; that I had been studying much upon it, and though I
had not been able to mortify myself so much as to lay up a thousand
pounds a year, yet, as I had not come to him for my interest half-yearly,
as was usual, I was now come to let him know that I had resolved to
lay up that seven hundred pounds a year, and never use a penny of it,
desiring him to help me to put it out to advantage.
Sir Robert, a man thoroughly versed in arts of improving money, but
thoroughly honest, said to me, 'Madam, I am glad you approve of the
method that I proposed to you; but you have begun wrong: you should
have como for your interest at the half-year, and then you had had the
money to put out. Now you have lost half a year's interest of £350.
which is £9? for I had but 5 per cent, on the mortgage.'
'Well, well, sir', says I, 'can you put this out for me now?'
'Let it lie, madam', says he, 'till the next year, and then I'll put out
your £, 1400 together, and in the meantime I'll pay you interest for the
£700.' So he gave me his bill for the money, which he told me should
be no less than £,6 per cent. Sir Robert Clayton's bill was what nobody
would refuse, so I thanked him, and let it lie; and next year I did the
same, and the third year Sir Robert got me a good mortgage for £2200
at £6 per cent, interest. So I had £132 a year added to my income,
which was a very satisfying article.
But I return to my history. As I have said, I found that my measures
were all wrong; the posture I set up in exposed me to innumerable visitors
of the kind I have mentioned above. I was cried up for a vast fortune,
and one that Sir Robert Clayton managed for; and Sir Robert Clayton was
courted for me as much as I was for myself. But I had given Sir Robert
his cue. I had told him my opinion of matrimony, in just the same terms
as I had done my merchant, and he came into it presently. He owned that
my observation was just, and that, if I valued my liberty, as I knew my
fortune, and that it was in my own hands, I was to blame if I gave it
away to any one.
But Sir Robert knew nothing of my design, that I aimed at being a
kept mistress, and to have a handsome maintenance; and that I was still
for getting money, and laying it up too, as much as he could desire me,
only by a worse way.
However, Sir Robert came seriously to me one day, and told me he had
an offer of matrimony to make to me that was beyond all that he had
heard had offered themselves, and this was a merchant. Sir Robert and
I agreed exactly in our notions of a merchant. Sir Robert said, and I
found it to be true, that a true-bred merchant is the best gentleman in
the nation ; that in knowledge, in manners, in judgment of things, the
merchant outdid many of the nobility; that, having once mastered the
world, and being above the demand of business, though no real estate,
they were then superior to most gentlemen, even in estate ; that a merchant
in flush business and a capital stock is able to spend more money than
a gentleman of £5°°° a year estate-, that while a merchant spent, he only
294 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
spent what he got, and not that, and that he laid up great sums every
year; that an estate is a pond, but that a trade was a spring; that if the
first is once mortgaged, it seldom gets clear, but embarrassed the person
for ever; but the merchant had his estate continually flowing; and upon
this he named me merchants, who lived in more real splendour and spent
more money than most of the noblemen in England could singly expend,
and that they still grew immensely rich.
He went on to tell me, that even the tradesmen in London, speaking of
the better sort of trades, could spend more money in their families, and
yet give better fortunes to their children, than, generally speaking, the
gentry of England from £1000 a year downward could do, and yet
grow rich too.
The upshot of all this was to recommend to me rather the bestowing my
fortune upon some eminent merchant, who lived already in the first figure
of a merchant, and who, not being in want or scarcity of money, but having
a flourishing business and a flowing cash, would at the first word settle
all my fortune on myself and children, and maintain me like a queen.
This was certainly right, and had I taken his advice, I had been really
happy ; but my heart was bent upon an independency of fortune, and I
told him I knew no state of matrimony but what was at best a state of
inferiority, if not of bondage; that I had no notion of it; that I lived a
life of absolute liberty now, was free as I was born, and, having a plentiful
fortune, I did not understand what coherence the words 'honour and obey*
had with the liberty of a free woman; that I knew no reason the men
had to engross the whole liberty of the race, and make the woman, not
withstanding any disparity of fortune, be subject to the laws of marriage,
of their own making; that it was my misfortune to be a woman, but I
was resolved it should not be made worse by the sex; and, seeing liberty
seemed to be the men's property, I would be a man-woman, for, as I was
born free, I would die so.
Sir Robert smiled, and told me I talked a kind of Amazonian language ;
that he found few women of my mind, or that, if they were, they wanted
resolution to go on with it; that, notwithstanding all my notions, which
he could not but say had once some weight in them, yet he understood
I had broke in upon them, and had been married. I answered, I had so ;
but he did not hear me say that I had any encouragement from what was
past to make a second venture; that I was got well out of the toil, and
if I came in again I should have nobody to blame but myself.
Sir Robert laughed heartily at me, but gave over offering any more
arguments, only told me he had pointed me out for some of the best
merchants in London, but, since I forbade him, he would give me no
disturbance of that kind. He applauded my way of managing my money,
and told me I should soon be monstrous rich; but he neither knew or
mistrusted that, with all this wealth, I was yet a whore, and was not averse
to adding to my estate at the farttier expense of my virtue.
But to go on with my story as to my way of living. I found, as above,
that my living as I did would not answer; that it only brought the fortune-
hunters and bites about me, as I have said before, to make a prey of me
and my money ; and, in short, I was harassed with lovers, beaux, and fops
of quality in abundance, but it would not do. I aimed at other things,
and was possessed with so vain an opinion of my own beauty, that nothing
less than the king himself was in my eye. And this vanity was raised
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 295
by some words let fall by a person I conversed with, who was, perhaps,
likely enough to have brought such a thing to pass, had it been sooner ;
but that game began to be pretty well over at court. However, the having
mentioned such a thing, it seems a little too publicly, it brought abundance
of people about me, upon a wicked account too.
And now I began to act in a new sphere. The court was exceedingly
gay and fine, though fuller of men than of women, the queen not affecting
to be very much in public. On the other hand, h is no slander upon the
courtiers to say, they were as wicked as anybody in reason could desire
them. The king had several mistresses, who were prodigious fine, and
there was a glorious show on that side indeed. If the sovereign gave
himself a loose, it could not be expected the rest of the court should be
all saints ; so far was it from that, though I would not make it worse than
it was, that a woman that had anything agreeable in her appearance could
never want followers.
I soon found myself thronged with admirers, and I received visits from
some persons of very great figure, who always introduced themselves by
the help of an old lady or two who were now become my intimates ; and
one of them, I understood afterwards, was set to work on purpose to get
into my favour, in order to introduce what followed.
The conversation we had was generally courtly, but civil. At length,
some gentlemen proposed to play, and made what they called a party.
This, it seems, was a contrivance of one of my female hangers-on, for, as
I said, I had two of them, who thought this was the way to introduce
people as often as she pleased ; and so indeed it was. They played high and
stayed Ia4e, but begged my pardon, only asked leave to make an appoint
ment for the next night. I was as gay and as well pleased as any of
them, and one night told one of the gentlemen, my Lord , that seeing
they were doing me the honour of diverting themselves at my apartment,
and desired to be there sometimes, I did not keep a gaming-table, but I
would give them a little ball the next day if they pleased, which they
accepted very willingly.
Accordingly, in the evening, the gentlemen began to come, where I let
them see that I understood very well what such things meant. I had a
large dining-room in my apartments, with five other rooms on the same
floor, all which I made drawing-rooms for the occasion, having all the beds
taken down for the day. In three of these I had tables placed, covered
with wine and sweetmeats, the fourth had a green table for play, and the
fifth was my own room, where I sat, and where I received all the company
that came to pay their compliments to me. I was dressed, you may be
sure, to all the advantage possible, and had all the jewels on that I was
mistress of. My Lord , to whom I had made the invitation, sent me
a set of fine music from tk* playhouse, and the ladies danced, and we
began to be very merry, when, about eleven o'clock, I had notice given me
that there were some gentlemen coming in masquerade. I seemed a little
surprised, and began to apprehend some disturbance, when my Lord
perceiving it, spoke to me to be easy, for that there was a party of the
guards at the door which should be ready to prevent any rudeness; and
another gentleman gave me a hint as if the king was among the masks.
I coloured as red as blood itself could make a face look, and expressed
a great surprise; however, there was no going back, so I kept my station
in my drawing-room, but with the folding-doors wide open.
296 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
A while after, the masks came in, and began with a dance '3 la comique,
performing wonderfully indeed. While they were dancing I withdrew, and
left a lady to answer for me that I would return immediately. In less
than half-an-hour I returned, dressed in the habit of a Turkish princess j
the habit I got at Leghorn, when my foreign prince bought me a Turkish
slave, as I have said. The Maltese man-of-war had, it seems, taken a
Turkish vessel going from Constantinople to Alexandria, in which were
some ladies bound for Grand Cairo in Egypt; and, as the ladies were
made slaves, so their fine clothes were thus exposed ; and with this Turkish
slave I bought the rich clothes too. The dress was extraordinary fine
indeed ; I had bought it as a curiosity, having never seen the like. The
robe was a fine Persian or India damask, the ground white, and the flowers
blue and gold, and the train held five yards. The dress under it was a
vest of the same, embroidered with gold, and set with some pearl in the
work, and some turquoise stones. To the vest was a girdle five or six
inches wide, after the Turkish mode; and on both ends where it joined,
or hooked, was set with diamonds for eight inches either way, only they
were not true diamonds, but nobody knew that but myself.
The turban, or head-dress, had a pinnacle on the top, but not above five
inches, with a piece of loose sarcenet hanging from it; and on the front,
just over the forehead, was a good jewel which I had added to it.
This habit, as above, cost me about sixty pistoles in Italy, but cost
much more in the country from whence it came; and little did I think
when I bought it, that I should put it to such a use as this, though I had
dressed myself in it many times by the help of my little Turk, and after
wards between Amy and I, only to see how I looked in it. I had sent
her up before to get it ready, and when I came up I had nothing to do
but slip it on, and was down in my drawing-room in a little more than
a quarter of an hour. When I came there the room was full of company ;
but I ordered the folding-doors to be shut for a minute or two, till I had
received the compliments of the ladies that were in the room, and had
given them a full view of my dress.
But my Lord , who happened to be in the room, slipped out at
another door, and brought back with him one of the masks, a tall, well-
shaped person, but who had no name, being all masked; nor would it have
been allowed to ask any person's name on such an occasion. The person
spoke in French to me, that it was the finest dress he had ever seen, and
asked me if he should have the honour to dance with me. I bowed, as
giving my consent, but said, as I had been a Mahometan, I could not
dance after the manner of this country ; I supposed their music would not
play a la Moresque. He answered merrily, I had a Christian's face, and
he'd venture it that I could dance like a Christian; adding that so much
beauty could not be Mahometan. Immediately the folding-doors were flung
open, and he led me into the room. The company were under the greatest
surprise imaginable; the very music stopped awhile to gaze, for the dress
was indeed exceedingly surprising, perfectly new, very agreeable, and
wonderful rich.
The gentleman, whoever he was, for I never knew, led me only a courant,
and then asked me if I had a mind to dance an antic — that is to say,
whether I would dance the antic as they had danced in masquerade, or
anything by myself. I told him anything else rather, if he pleased ; so we
danced only two French dances, and he led me to the drawing-room door,
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 297
when he retired to the rest of the masks. When he left me at the drawing-
room door, I did not go in, as he thought I would have done, but turned
about and showed myself to the whole room, and, calling my woman to
me, gave her some directions to the music, by which the company presently
understood that I would give them a dance by myself. Immediately all
the house rose up and paid me a kind of a compliment by removing back
every way to make me room, for the place was exceedingly full. The
music did not at first hit the tune that I directed, which was a French
tune, so I was forced to send my woman to them again, standing all this
while at my drawing-room door ; but, as soon as my woman spoke to them
again, they played it right, and I, to let them see it was so, stepped
forward to the middle of the room. Then they began it again, and I
danced by myself a figure which I learnt in France, when the Prince de
desired I would dance for his diversion. It was, indeed, a very fine figure,
invented by a famous master at Paris, for a lady or a gentleman to dance
single; but, being perfectly new, it pleased the company exceedingly, and
they all thought it had been Turkish; nay, one gentleman had the folly
to expose himself so much as to say, and I think swore too, that he had
seen it danced at Constantinople, which was ridiculous enough.
At the finishing the dance, the company clapped, and almost shouted;
and one of the gentlemen cried out, ' Roxana ! Roxana ! by ', with an
oath; upon which foolish accident I had the name of Roxana presently
fixed upon me all over the court end of town as effectually as if I had
been christened Roxana. I had, it seems, the felicity of pleasing everybody
that night to an extreme; and my ball, but especially my dress, was the
chat of the town for that week ; and so the name of Roxana was the toast
at and about the court; no other health was to be named with it.
Now things began to work as I would have them, and I began to be
very popular, as much as I could desire. The ball held till (as well as I
was pleased with the show) I was sick of the night ; the gentlemen masked
went off about three o'clock in the morning, the other gentlemen sat down
to play ; the music held it out, and some of the ladies were dancing at six
in the morning.
But I was mighty eager to know who it was danced with me. Some of
the lords went so far as to tell me I was very much honoured in my com
pany; one of them spoke so broad as almost to say it was the king, but
I was convinced afterwards it was not; and another replied if he had been
his Majesty he should have thought it no dishonour to lead up a Roxana;
but to this hour I never knew positively who it was ; and by his behaviour
I thought he was too young, his Majesty being at that time in an age that
might be discovered from a young person, even in his dancing.
Be that as it would, I had five hundred guineas sent me the next morn
ing, and the messenger was ordered to tell me that the persons who sent
it desired a ball again at my lodgings on the next Tuesday, but that they
would have my leave to give the entertainment themselves. I was mighty
well pleased with this, to be sure, but very inquisitive to know who the
money came from ; but the messenger was silent as death as to that point,
and bowing always at my inquiries, begged me to ask no questions which
he could not give an obliging answer to.
I forgot to mention, that the gentlemen that played gave a hundred
guineas to the box, as they called it, and at the end of their play they
asked for my gentlewoman of the bedchamber, as they called her (Mrs.
298 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
Amy, forsooth), and gave it her, and gave twenty guineas more among
the servants.
These magnificent doings equally both pleased and surprised me, and I
hardly knew where I was; but especially that notion of the king being
the person that danced with me, puffed me up to that degree, that I not
only did not know anybody else, but indeed was very far from knowing
myself.
I had now, the next Tuesday, to provide for the like company. But,
alas! it was all taken out of my hand. Three gentlemen, who yet were,
it seems, but servants, came on the Saturday, and bringing sufficient testi
monies that they were right, for one was the same who brought the five
hundred guineas ; I say, three of them came, and brought bottles of all
sorts of wines, and hampers of sweetmeats to such a quantity, it appeared
they designed to hold the trade on more than once, and that they would
furnish everything to a profusion.
However, as I found a deficiency in two things, I made provision of
about twelve dozen of fine damask napkins, with tablecloths of the same,
sufficient to cover all the tables, with three tablecloths upon every table,
and sideboards in proportion. Also I bought a handsome quantity of plate,
necessary to have served all the sideboards ; but the gentlemen would not
suffer any of it to be used, telling me they had brought fine china dishes
and plates for the whole service, and that in such public places they
could not be answerable for the plate. So it was set all up in a large
glass cupboard in the room I sat in, where it made a very good show
indeed.
On Tuesday there came such an appearance of gentlemen and ladies,
that my apartments were by no means able to receive them, and those
who in particular appeared as principals gave order below to let no more
company come up. The street was full of coaches with coronets, and
fine glass chairs, and, in short, it was impossible to receive the company.
I kept my little room as before, and the dancers filled the great room;
all the drawing-rooms also were filled, and three rooms below stairs,
which were not mine.
It was very well that there was a strong party of the guards brought to
keep the door, for without that there had been such a promiscuous crowd,
and some of them scandalous too, that we should have been all disorder
and confusion; but the three head servants managed all that, and had a
word to admit all the company by.
It was uncertain to me, and is to this day, who it was that danced with
me the Wednesday before, when the ball was my own; but that the king
was at this assembly was out of question with me, by circumstances that,
I suppose, I could not be deceived in, and particularly that there were five
persons who were not masked; three of them had blue garters, and they
appeared not to me till I came out to dance.
This meeting was managed just as the first, though with much more
magnificence, because of the company. I placed myself (exceedingly rich
in clothes and jewels) in the middle of my little room, as before, and
made my compliment to all the company as they passed me, as I did
before. But my Lord , who had spoken openly to me the first night,
came to me, and, unmasking, told me the company had ordered him to
tell me they hoped they should see me in the dress I had appeared in the
first day, which had been so acceptable that it had been the occasion of
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 299
this new meeting. 'And, madam', says he, 'there are some in this
assembly who it is worth your while to oblige.'
I bowed to my Lord , and immediately withdrew. While I was
above, a-dressing in my new habit, two ladies, perfectly unknown to me,
were conveyed into my apartment below, by the order of a noble person,
who, with his family, had been in Persia; and here, indeed, I thought I
should have been outdone, or perhaps balked.
One of these ladies was dressed most exquisitely fine indeed, in the
habit of a virgin lady of quality of Georgia, and the other in the same
habit of Armenia, with each of them a woman slave to attend them.
The ladies had their petticoats short to their ankles, but plaited all
round, and before them short aprons, but of the finest point that could be
seen. Their gowns were made with long antique sleeves hanging down
behind, and a train let down. They had no jewels, but their heads and
breasts were dressed up with flowers, and they both came in veiled.
Their slaves were bareheaded, but their long, black hair was braided
in locks hanging down behind to their waists, and tied up with ribands.
They were dressed exceeding rich, and were as beautiful as their mistresses;
for none of them had any masks on. They waited in my room till I came
down, and all paid their respects to me after the Persian manner, and sat
down on a safra — that is to say, almost crosslegged, on a couch made up
of cushions laid on the ground.
This was admirably fine, and I was indeed startled at it. They made
their compliment to me in French, and I replied in the same language.
When the doors were opened, they walked into the dancing-room, and
danced such a dance as indeed nobody there had ever seen, and to an
instrument like a guitar, with a small low-sounding trumpet, which indeed
was very fine, and which my Lord had provided.
They danced three times all alone, for nobody, indeed, could dance with
them. The novelty pleased, truly, but yet there was something wild and
bizarre in it, because they really acted to the life the barbarous country
whence they came ; but as mine had the French behaviour under the
Mahometan dress, it was every way as new, and pleased much better
indeed. -,
As soon as they had shown their Georgian and Armenian shapes, and
danced, as I have said, three times, they withdrew, paid their compliment
to me (for I was queen of the day), and went off to undress.
Some gentlemen then danced with ladies all in masks ; and, when they
stopped, nobody rose up to dance, but all called out 'Roxana, Roxana!'.
In the interval, my Lord had brought another masked person into
my room, who I knew not, only that I could discern it was not the same
person that led me out before. This noble person (for I afterwards under
stood it was the Duke of ), after a short compliment, led me out into
the middle of the room.
I was dressed in the same vest and girdle as before, but the robe had
a mantle over it, which is usual in the Turkish habit, and it was of crimson
and green, the green brocaded with gold ; and my tyhiaai, or head-dress,
varied a little from that I had before, as it stood higher, and had some
jewels about the rising part, which made it look like a turban crowned.
I had no mask, neither did I paint, and yet I had the day of all the
ladies that appeared at the ball, I mean of those that appeared with faces
on. As for those masked, nothing could be said *f them, no doubt there
30O THE LIFE OF ROXANA
might be many finer than I was ; it must be confessed that the habit was
infinitely advantageous to me, and everybody looked at me with a kind of
pleasure, which gave me great advantage too.
After I had danced with that noble person, I did not offer to dance by
myself, as I had before; but they all called out, 'Roxana', again; and two
of the gentlemen came into the drawing-room to entreat me to give them
the Turkish dance, which I yielded to readily, so I came out and danced
just as at first.
While I was dancing, I perceived five persons standing all together,
and, among them, only one with his hat on. It was an immediate hint to
me who it was, and had at first almost put me into some disorder; but I
went on, received the applause of the house, as before, and retired into
my own room. When I was there, the five gentlemen came across the
room to my side, and, coming in, followed by a throng of great persons,
the person with his hat on said, ' Madam Roxana, you perform to admira
tion.' I was prepared, and offered, to kneel to kiss his hand, but he
declined it, and saluted me, and so, passing back again through the great
room, went away.
I do not say here who this was, but I say I came afterwards to know
something more plainly. I would have withdrawn, and disrobed, being
somewhat too thin in that dress, unlaced and open-breasted, as if I had
been in my shift; but it could not be, and I was obliged to dance after
wards with six or eight gentlemen, most, if not all of them, of the first
rank; and I was told afterwards that one of them was the Duke of
M[onmou]th.
About two or three o'clock in the morning the company began to decrease ;
the number of women especially dropped away home, some and some at
a time; and the gentlemen retired downstairs, where they unmasked and
went to play.
Amy waited at the room where they played, sat up all night to attend
them, and in the morning, when they broke up, they swept the box into
her lap, when she counted out to me sixty-two guineas and a half; and
the other servants got very well too. Amy came to me when they were
all gone; 'Law, madam', says Amy, with a long, gaping cry, 'what shall
I do with all this money?' And indeed the poor creature was half
mad with joy.
I was now in my element. I was as much talked of as anybody could
desire, and I did not doubt but something or other would come of it; but
the report of my being so rich rather was a balk to my view than anything
else; for the gentlemen that would perhaps have been troublesome enough
otherwise, seemed to be kept off, for Roxana was too high for them.
There is a scene which came in here which I must cover from human
eyes or ears. For three years and about a month Roxana lived retired,
having been obliged to make an excursion in a manner, and with a person
which duty and private vows obliges her not to reveal, at least not yet.
At the end of this time I appeared again ; but, I must add, that, as I
had in this time of retreat made hay, etc., so I did not come abroad again
with the same lustre, or shine with so much advantage as before. For, as t
some people had got at least a suspicion of where I had been, and who
had had me all the while, it began to be public that Roxana was, in short,
a mere Roxana, neither better nor worse, and not that woman of honour
and virtue that was at first supposed.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 30 1
You are now to suppose me about seven years come to town, and that
I had not only suffered the old revenue, which I hinted was managed by
Sir Robert Clayton, to grow, as was mentioned before, but I had laid up
an incredible wealth, the time considered; and, had I yet had the least
thought of reforming, I had all the opportunity to do it with advantage
that ever woman had. For the common vice of all whores, I mean money,
was out of the question, nay, even avarice itself seemed to be glutted ; for,
including what I had saved in reserving the interest of £14,000, which, as
above, I had left to grow, and including some very good presents I had
made to me in mere compliment upon these shining masquerading meetings,
which 1 held up for about two years, and what I made of three years of
the most glorious retreat, as I call it, that ever woman had, I had fully
doubled my first substance, and had near £5000 in money which I kept
at home, besides abundance of plate and jewels, which I had either given
me or had bought to set myself out for public days.
In a word, I had now five-and-thirty thousand pounds estate; and as I
found ways to live without wasting either principal or interest, I laid up
£2000 every year at least out of the mere interest, adding it to the principal,
and thus I went on.
After the end of what I call my retreat, and out of which I brought a
great deal of money, I appeared again, but I seemed like an old piece of
plate that had been hoarded up some years, and conies out tarnished and
discoloured ; so I came out blown, and looked like a cast-off mistress ;
nor, indeed, was I any better, though I was not at all impaired in beauty,
except that I was a little fatter than I was formerly, and always granting
that I was four years older.
However, I preserved the youth of my temper, was always bright, pleasant
in company, and agreeable to everybody, or else everybody flattered me;
and in this condition I came abroad to the world again. And, though I
was not so popular as before, and indeed did not seek it, because I knew
it could not be, yet I was far from being without company, and that of
the greatest quality (of subjects I mean), who frequently visited me, and
sometimes we had meetings for mirth and play at my apartments, where
I failed not to divert them in the most agreeable manner possible.
Nor could any of them make the least particular application to me, from
the notion they had of my excessive wealth, which, as they thought, placed
me above the meanness of a maintenance, and so left no room to come
easily about me.
But, at last, I was very handsomely attacked by a person of honour, and
(which recommended him particularly to me) a person of a very great
estate. He made a long introduction to me upon the subject of my wealth.
'Ignorant creature?' said I to myself, considering him as a lord, 'was
there ever woman in the world that could stoop to the baseness of being
a whore, and was above taking the reward of her vice ! No, no, depend
upon it, if your lordship obtains anything of me, you must pay for it ; and
the notion of my being so rich serves only to make it cost you the dearer,
seeing you cannot offer a small matter to a woman of £2000 a year estate.'
After he had harangued upon that subject a good while, and had assured
me he had no design upon me, that he did not come to make a prize
of me, or to pick my pocket, which, by the way, I was in no fear of, for
I took too much care of my money to part with any of it that way, he
then turned his discourse to the subject of love, a point so ridiculous to
302 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
me without the main thing, I mean the money, that I had no patience to
hear him make so long a story of it.
I received him civilly, and let him see I could bear to hear a wicked
proposal without being affronted, and yet I was not to be brought into it
too easily. He visited me a long while, and, in short, courted me as
closely and assiduously as if he had been wooing me to matrimony. He
made me several valuable presents, which I suffered myself to be prevailed
with to accept, but not without great difficulty.
Gradually I suffered also his other importunities ; and when he made a
proposal of a compliment or appointment to me for a settlement, he said
that though I was rich, yet there was not the less due from him to
acknowledge the favours he received ; and that, if I was to be his, I should
not live at my own expense, cost what it would. I told him I was far
from being extravagant, and yet I did not live at the expense of less than
£500 a year out of my own pocket; that, however, I was not covetous of
settled allowances, for I looked upon that as a kind of golden chain,
something like matrimony; that, though I knew how to be true to a man
of honour, as I knew his lordship to be, yet I had a kind of aversion to
the bonds ; and though I was not so rich as the world talked me up to
be, yet I was not so poor as to bind myself to hardships for a pension.
He told me he expected to make my life perfectly easy, and intended
it so ; that he knew of no bondage there could be in a private engagement
between us; that the bonds of honour he knew I would be tied by, and
think them no burthen ; and, for other obligations, he scorned to expect
anything from me but what he knew as a woman of honour I could grant.
Then, as to maintenance, he told me he would soon show me that he
valued me infinitely above £500 a year, and upon this foot we began.
I seemed kinder to him after this discourse, and as time and private
conversation made us very intimate, we began to come nearer to the main
article, namely, the £500 a year. He offered that at first word, and to
acknowledge it as an infinite favour to have it be accepted of; and I, that
thought it was too much by all the money, suffered myself to be mastered,
or prevailed with to yield, even on but a bare engagement upon parole.
When he had obtained his end that way, I told him my mind. 'Now
you see, my lord', said I, 'how weakly I have acted, namely, to yield to
you without any capitulation, or anything secured to me but that which
you may cease to allow when you please. If I am the less valued for
such a confidence, I shall be injured in a manner that I will endeavour
not to deserve.'
He told me that he would make it evident to me that he did not seek
me by way of bargain, as such things were often done; that as I had
treated him with a generous confidence, so I should find I was in the
hands of a man of honour, and one that knew how to value the obligation ;
and upon this he pulled out a goldsmith's bill for £, 300, which (putting it
into my hand), he said, he gave me as a pledge that I should not be a
loser by my not having made a bargain with him.
This was engaging indeed, and gave me a good idea of our future cor
respondence ; and, in short, as I could not refrain treating him with more
kindness than I had done before, so, one thing begetting another, I gave
him several testimonies that I was entirely his own by inclination as well
as by the common obligation of a mistress, and this pleased him
exceedingly.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 303
Soon after this private engagement I began to consider whether it were
not more suitable to the manner of life I now led to be a little less public j
and, as I told my lord, it would rid me of the importunities of others,
and of continual visits from a sort of people who he knew of, and who,
by the way, having now got the notion of me which I really deserved,
began to talk of the old game, love and gallantry, and to offer at what
was rude enough — things as nauseous to me now as if I had been married
and as virtuous as other people. The visits of these people began indeed
to be uneasy to me, and particularly as they were always very tedious and
impertinent j nor could my Lord be pleased with them at all if they
had gone on. It would be diverting to set down here in what manner I
repulsed these sort of people; how in some I resented it as an affront, and
told them that I was sorry they should oblige me to vindicate myself from
the scandal of such suggestions by telling them that I could see them no
more, and by desiring them not to give themselves the trouble of visiting
me, who, though I was not willing to be uncivil, yet thought myself
obliged never to receive any visit from any gentleman after he had made
such proposals as those to me. But these things would be too tedious to
bring in here. It was on this account I proposed to his lordship my
taking new lodgings for privacy ; besides, I considered that, as I might live
very handsomely, and yet not so publicly, so I needed not spend so much
money by a great deal; and, if I made £500 a year of this generous
person, it was more than I had any occasion to spend by a great deal.
My lord came readily into this proposal, and went further than I expected,
for he found out a lodging for me in a very handsome house, where yet
he was not known — I suppose he had employed somebody to find it out
for him — and where he had a convenient way to come into the garden by
a door that opened into the park, a thing very rarely allowed in those times.
By this key he could come in at what time of night or day he pleased ;
and, as we had also a little door in the lower part of the house which
was always left upon a lock, and his was the master-key, so if it was
twelve, one, or two o'clock at night, he could come directly into my
bedchamber. N.B. — I was not afraid I should be found a-bed with anybody
else, for, in a word, I conversed with nobody at all.
It happened pleasantly enough one night, his lordship had stayed late,
and I, not expecting him that night, had taken Amy to bed with me, and
when my lord came into the chamber we were both fast asleep. I think
it was near three o'clock when he came in, and a little merry, but not at.
all fuddled, or what they call in drink ; and he came at once into the room.
Amy was frighted out of her wits, and cried out I said calmly,
' Indeed, my lord, I did not expect you to-night, and we have been a little
frighted to-night with fire.' 'Oh!', says he, 'I see you have got a bed
fellow with you.' I began to make an apology. 'No, no', says my lord,
'you need no excuse, 'tis not a man bedfellow, I see'; but then, talking >
merrily enough, he catched his words back: 'But, hark ye', says he, 'now
I think on't, how shall I be satisfied it is not a man bedfellow?' 'Oh',
says I, 'I dare say your lordship is satisfied, 'tis poor Amy.' 'Yes', says
he, ''tis Mrs Amy; but how do I know what Amy is? It may be Mr
Amy for aught I know; I hope you'll give me leave to be satisfied.' I
told him, Yes, by all means, I would have his lordship satisfied; but I
supposed he knew who she was.
Well, he fell foul of poor Amy, and, indeed, I thought once he would
304 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
have carried the jest on before my face, as was once done in a like casei
but his lordship was not so hot neither, but he would know whether Amy
was Mr Amy or Mrs Amy, and so, I suppose, he did; and then, being
satisfied in that doubtful case, he walked to the farther end of the room,
and went into a little closet and sat down.
In the meantime Amy and I got up, and I bid her run and make the
bed in another chamber for my lord, and I gave her sheets to put into it;
which she did immediately, and I put my lord to bed there, and, when I
had done, at his desire went to bed to him. I was backward at first to
come to bed to him, and made my excuse because I had been in bed with
Amy, and had not shifted me; but he was past those niceties at that time;
and, as long as he was sure it was Mrs Amy and not Mr Amy, he was
very well satisfied, and so the jest passed over. But Amy appeared no
more all that night or the next day, and when she did, my lord was so
merry with her upon his e"claircissement, as he called it, that Amy did
not know what to do with herself.
Not that Amy was such a nice lady in the main, if she had been fairly
dealt with, as has appeared in the former part of this work ; but now she
was surprised, and a little hurried, that she scarce knew where she was;
and besides, she was, as to his lordship, as nice a lady as any in the
world, and, for anything he knew of her, she appeared as such. The rest
was to us only that knew of it.
I held this wicked scene of life out eight years, reckoning from my first
coming to England; and, though my lord found no fault, yet I found,
without much examining, that any one who looked in my face might see
I was above twenty years old ; and yet, without flattering myself, I carried
my age» which was above fifty, very well too.
I may venture to say that no woman ever lived a life like me, of six-
and-twenty years of wickedness, without the least signals of remorse, without
any signs «of repentance, or without so much as a wish to put an end to
it; I had so long habituated myself to a life of vice, that really it appeared
to be no vice to me. I went on smooth and pleasant, I wallowed in
wealth, and it flowed in upon me at such a rate, having taken the frugal
measures that the good knight directed, so that I had, at the end of the
eight years, two thousand eight hundred pounds coming yearly in, of which
I did not spend one penny, being maintained by my allowance from my
Lord , and more than maintained by above £200 per annum; for,
though he did not contract for £500 a year, as I made dumb signs to
have it be, yet he gave me money so often, and that in such large parcels,
that I had seldom so little as seven to eight hundred pounds a year of
him, one year with another.
I must go back here, after telling openly the wicked things I did, to
mention something which, however, had the face of doing good. I remem
bered that when I went from England, which was fifteen years before, I
had left five little children, turned out as it were to the wide world, and
to the charity of their father's relations ; the eldest was not six years old,
for we had not been married full seven years when their father went away.
After my coming to England I was greatly desirous to hear how things
stood with them, and whether they were all alive or not, and in what
manner they had been maintained ; and yet I resolved not to discover myself
to them in the least, or to let any of the people that had the breeding of
them up, know that there was such a body left in the world as their mother.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 30$
Amy was the only body I could trust with such a commission, and I
sent her into Spitalfields, to the old aunt and to the poor woman that were
so instrumental in disposing the relations to take some care of the children,
but they were both gone, dead and buried some years. The next inquiry
she made was at the house where she carried the poor children, and turned
them in at the door. When she came there, she found the house inhabited
by other people, so that she could make little or nothing of her inquiries,
and came back with an answer that indeed was no answer to me, for it
gave me no satisfaction at all. I sent her back to inquire in the neigh
bourhood what was become of the family that lived in that house; and,
if they were removed, where they lived, and what circumstances they were
in; and, withal, if she could, what became of the poor children, and how
they lived, and where; how they had been treated; and the like.
She brought me back word upon this second going, that she heard, as
to the family, that the husband, who, though but uncle-in-law to the
children, had yet been kindest to them, was dead ; and that the widow was
left but in mean circumstances — that is to say, she did not want, but that
she was not so well in the world as she was thought to be when her
husband was alive; that, as to the poor children, two of them, it seems,
had been kept by her, that is to say, by her husband, while he lived, for
that it was against her will, that we all knew ; but the honest neighbours
pitied the poor children, they said, heartily; for that their aunt used
them barbarously, and made them little better than servants in the
house, to wait upon her and her children, and scarce allowed them clothes
fit to wear.
These were, it seems, my eldest and third, which were daughters ; the
second was a son, the fourth a daughter, and the youngest a son.
To finish the melancholy part of this history of my two unhappy girls,
she brought me word that, as soon as they were able to go out and get
any work, they went from her, and some said she had turned them out of
doors ; but, it seems, she had not done so, but she used them so cruelly
that they left her, and one of them went to service to a neighbour's, a
little way off, who knew her, an honest, substantial weaver's wife, to whom
she was chambermaid, and in a little time she took her sister out of the
Bridewell of her aunt's house, and got her a place too.
This was all melancholy and dull. I sent her then to the weaver's house,
where the eldest had lived, but found that, her mistress being dead, she
was gone, and nobody knew there whither she went, only that they heard
she had lived with a great lady at the other end of the town; but they
did not know who that lady was.
These inquiries took us up three or four weeks, and I was not one jot
the better for it, for I could hear nothing to my satisfaction. I sent her next
to find out the honest man who, as in the beginning of my story I
observed, made them be entertained, and caused the youngest to be fetched
from the town where we lived, and where the parish officers had taken
care of him. This gentleman was still alive ; and there she heard that my
youngest daughter and eldest son was dead also ; but that my youngest
son was alive, and was at that time about seventeen years old, and that
he was put out apprentice by the kindness and charity of his uncle, but
to a mean trade, and at which he was obliged to work very hard.
Amy was so curious in this part that she went immediately to see him,
and found him all dirty, and hard at work. She had no remembrance at
20
3o6
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
all of the youth, for she had not seen him since he was about two years
old ; and it was evident he could have no knowledge of her.
However, she talked with him, and found him a good, sensible, mannerly
youth ; that he knew little of the story of his father or mother, and had
no view of anything but to work hard for his living; and she did not
think fit to put any great things into his head, lest it should take him off
of his business, and perhaps make him turn giddy-headed and be good
for nothing; but she went and found out that kind man, his benefactor,
who had put him out, and finding him a plain, well-meaning, honest, and
kind-hearted man, she opened her tale to him the easier. She made a long
story, how she had a prodigious kindness for the child, because she had
the same for his father and mother; told him that she was the servant-
maid that brought all of them to their aunt's door, and run away and left
them; that their poor mother wanted bread, and what came of her after
she would have been glad to know. She added that her circumstances
had happened to mend in the world, and that, as she was in condition,
so she was disposed to show some kindness to the children if she could
find them out.
He received her with all the civility that so kind a proposal demanded,
gave her an account of what he had done for the child, how he had
maintained him, fed and clothed him, put him to school, and at last put
him out to a trade. She said he had indeed been a father to the child.
•But, sir', says she, ''tis a very laborious, hard-working trade, and he is
but a thin, weak boy.' 'That's true', says he; 'but the boy chose the
trade, and I assure you I gave £20 with him, and am to find him clothes
all his apprenticeship ; and as to its being a hard trade ', says he, ' that's
the fate of his circumstances, poor boy. I could not well do better for him.'
' Well, sir, as you did all for him in charity ', says she, ' it was exceeding
well ; but, as my resolution is to do something for him, I desire you will,
if possible, take him away again from that place, where he works so hard,
for I cannot bear to see the child work so very hard for his bread, and
I will do something for him that shall make him live without such
hard labour.'
He smiled at that. 'I can, indeed', says he; 'take him away, but then
I must lose my £20 that I gave with him.'
' Well, sir ', said Amy, ' I'll enable you to lose that £20 immediately ' ;
and so she put her hand in her pocket, and pulls out her purse.
He begun to be a little amazed at her, and looked her hard in the
face, and that so very much that she took notice of it, and said, 'Sir, I
fancy by your looking at me, you think you know me, but I am assured
you do not, for I never saw your face before. I think you have done
enough for the child, and that you ought to be acknowledged as a fathe^
to him, but you ought not to lose by your kindness to him, more than
the kindness of bringing him up obliges you to; and therefore there's the
£20', added she, 'and pray let him be fetched away.'
' Well, madam ', says he, ' I will thank you for the boy, as well as for
myself; but will you please to tell me what I must do with him?'
'Sir', says Amy, 'as you have been so kind to keep him so many
years, I beg you will take him home again one year more, and I'll bring
you a hundred pounds more, which I will desire you to lay out in schooling
and clothes for him, and to pay you for his board. Perhaps I may put
him in a condition to return your kindness.'
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 307
i He looked pleased, but surprised very much, and inquired of Amy, but
with very great respect, what he should go to school to learn, and what
trade she would please to put him out to.
Amy said he should put him to learn a little Latin, and then merchants'
accounts, and to write a good hand, for she would have him be put to a
Turkey merchant.
'Madam', says he, 'I am glad for his sake to hear you talk so; but
do you know that a Turkey merchant will not take him under £400 or £5°° * '
'Yes, sir', says Amy, 'I know it very well.'
' And ', says he, ' that it will require as many thousands to set him u»p ? '
'Yes, sir', says Amy, 'I know that very well too'; and, resolving to
talk very big, she added, 'I have no children of my own, and I resolve
to make him my heir, and if £10,000 be required to set him up, he shall
not want it. I was but his mother's servant when he was born, and I
mourned heartily for the disaster of the family, and I always said, if ever
I was worth anything in the world, I would take the child for my own,
and I'll be as good as my word now, though I did not then foresee that
it would be with me as it has been since.' And so Amy told him a long
story how she was troubled for me, and what she would give to hear
whether I was dead or alive, and what circumstances I was in ; that if she
could but find me, if I was ever so poor, she would take care of me, and
make a gentlewoman of me again.
He told her that, as to the child's mother, she had been reduced to the
last extremity, and was obliged (as he supposed she knew) to send the
children all among her husband's friends; and, if it had not been for him,
they had all been sent to the parish; but that he obliged the other relations
to share the charge among them; that he had taken two, whereof he had
lost the eldest, who died of the smallpox, but that he had been as careful
of this as of his own, and had made very little difference in their breeding
up, only that, when he came to put him out, he thought it was best for
the boy to put him to a trade which he might set up in without a stock,
for otherwise his time would be lost; and that, as to his mother, he had
never been able to hear one word of her, no, not though he had made
the utmost inquiry after her ; that there went a report that she had drowned
herself, but that he could never meet with anybody that could give him a
certain account of it.
Amy counterfeited a cry for her poor mistress; told him she would give
anything in the world to see her, if she was alive ; and a great deal
more such-like talk they had about that; then they returned to speak
of the boy.
He inquired of her why she did not seek after the child before, that
he might have been brought up from a younger age, suitable to what she
designed to do for him.
She told him she had been out of England, and was but newly returned
from the East Indies. That she had been out of England, and was but
newly returned, was true, but the latter was false, and was put in to blind
him, and provide against farther inquiries; for it was not a strange thing
for young women to go away poor to the East Indies, and come home
vastly rich. So she wrnt on with directions about him, and both agreed
in this, that the boy should by no means be told what was intended for
him, but only that he should be taken home again to his uncle's, that his
uncle thought the trade too hard for him, and the like.
308
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
About three days after this Amy goes again, and carried him the hundred
pounds she promised him, but then Amy made quite another figure than
she did before ; for she went in my coach, with two footmen after her, and
dressed very fine also, with jewels and a gold watch; and there was indeed
no great difficulty to make Amy look like a lady, for she was a very
handsome, well-shaped woman, and genteel enough. The coachman and
servants were particularly ordered to show her the same respect as they
would to me, and to call her Madam Collins, if they were asked any
questions about her.
When the gentleman saw what a figure she made, it added to the former
surprise, and he entertained her in the most respectful manner possible,
congratulated her advancement in fortune, and particularly rejoiced that
it should fall to the poor child's lot to be so provided for, contrary to
all expectation.
Well, Amy talked big, but very free and familiar, told them she had no
pride in her good fortune (and that was true enough, for, to give Amy
her due, she was far from it, and was as good-humoured a creature as ever
lived) ; that she was the same as ever ; and that she always loved this boy,
and was resolved to do something extraordinary for him.
Then she pulled out her money, and paid him down a hundred and
twenty pounds, which, she said, she paid him that he might be sure he
should be no loser by taking him home again, and that she would come
and see him again, and talk farther about things with him, so that all
might be settled for him, in such a manner as accidents, such as mortality,
or anything else, should make no alteration to the child's prejudice.
At this meeting the uncle brought his wife out, a good, motherly, comely,
grave woman, who spoke very tenderly of the youth, and, as it appeared,
had been very good to him, though she had several children of her own.
After a long discourse, she put in a word of her own. ' Madam ', says
she, 'I am heartily glad of the good intentions you have for this poor
orphan, and I rejoice sincerely in it for his sake ; but, madam, you know,
I suppose, that there are two sisters alive too ; may we not speak a word
for them? Poor girls', says she, 'they have not been so kindly used as
he has, and are turned out to the wide world.'
'Where are they, madam?' says Amy.
•Poor creatures', says the gentlewoman; 'they are out at service, nobody
knows where but themselves; their case is very hard.'
'Well, madam', says Amy, 'though, if I could find them I would assist
them, yet my concern is for my boy, as I call him, and I will put him
into a condition to take care of his sisters.'
•But, madam', says the good, compassionate creature, 'he may not be
so charitable perhaps by his own inclination, for brothers are not fathers,
and they have been cruelly used already, poor girls ; we have often
relieved them, both with victuals and clothes too, even while they were
pretended to be kept by their barbarous aunt.'
•Well, madam', says Amy, 'what can I do for them? They are gone,
it seems, and cannot be heard of. When I see them 'tis time enough.'
She pressed Amy, then, to oblige their brother, out of the plentiful
fortune he was like to have, to do something for his sisters when he
should be able.
Amy spoke coldly of that still, but said she would consider of it ; and
so they parted for that time. They had several meetings after this, for
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 309
Amy went to see her adopted son, and ordered his schooling, clothes, and
other things, but enjoined them not to tell the young man anything, but
that they thought the trade he was at too hard for him, and they would
keep him at home a little longer, and give him some schooling to fit him
for other business; and Amy appeared to him as she did before, only as
one that had known his mother and had some kindness for him.
Thus this matter passed on for near a twelvemonth, when it happened
that one of my maid-servants having asked Amy leave (for Amy was
mistress of the servants, and took and put out such as she pleased)— I
say, having asked leave to go into the city to see her friends, came home
crying bitterly, and in a most grievous agony she was, and continued so
several days, till Amy, perceiving the excess, and that the maid would
certainly cry herself sick, she took an opportunity with her and examined
her about it.
The maid told her a long story, that she had been to see her brother,
the only brother she had in the world, and that she knew he was put out
apprentice to a ; but there had come a lady in a coach to his
uncle , who had brought him up, and made him take him home
again; and so the wench run on with the whole story just as 'tis told
above, till she came to that part that belonged to herself. 'And there',
says she, 'I had not let them know where I lived, and the lady would
have taken me, and, they say, would have provided for me too, as she has
done for my brother; but nobody could tell where to find me, and so I
have lost it all, and all the hopes of being anything but a poor servant
all my days'; and then the girl fell a-crying again.
Amy said, 'What's all this story? Who could this lady be? It must
be some trick, sure.' 'No', she said, 'it was not a trick, for she had
made them take her brother home from apprentice, and bought him new
clothes, and put him to have more learning; and the gentlewoman said
she would make him her heir.'
'Her heir!' says Amy. 'What does that amount to? It may be she
had nothing to leave him; she might make anybody her heir.'
'No, no', says the girl; 'she came in a fine coach and horses, and I
don't know how many footmen to attend her, and brought a great bag
of gold and gave it to my uncle , he that brought up my brother,
to buy him clothes and to pay for his schooling and board.'
'He that brought up your brother?' says Amy. 'Why, did not he bring
you up too, as well as your brother ? Pray who brought you up, then ? '
Here the poor girl told a melancholy story, how an aunt had brought
up her and her sister, and how barbarously she had used them, as we
have heard.
By this time Amy had her head full enough, and her heart too, and did
not know how to hold it, or what to do, for she was satisfied that this
was no other than my own daughter, for she told her all the history of
her father and mother, and how she was carried by their maid to her
aunt's door, just as is related in the beginning of my story.
Amy did not tell me this story for a great while, nor did she well know
what course to take in it; but as she had authority to manage everything
in the family, she took occasion some time after, without letting me know
anything of it, to find some fault with the maid and turn her away.
Her reasons were good, though at first I was not pleased when I heard
of it, but I was convinced afterwards that she was in the right, for if she
310 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
had told me of it I should have been in great perplexity between the
difficulty of concealing myself from rny own child, and the inconvenience
of having my way of living be known among my first husband's relations,
and even to my husband himself; for, as to his being dead at Paris, Amy,
seeing me resolved against marrying any more, had told me that she had
formed that story only to make me easy when I was in Holland if anything
should offer to my liking.
However, I was too tender a mother still, notwithstanding what I had
done, to let this poor girl go about the world drudging, as it were, for
bread, and slaving at the fire and in the kitchen as a cook-maid ; besides,
it came into my head that she might perhaps marry some poor devil of a
footman, or a coachman, or some such thing, and be undone that way, or,
which was worse, be drawn in to lie with some of that coarse, cursed
kind, and be with child, and be utterly ruined that way; and in the midst
of all my prosperity this gave me great uneasiness.
As to sending Amy to her, there was no doing that now, for, as she
had been servant in the house, she knew Amy as well as Amy knew me ;
and, no doubt, though I was much out of her sight, yet she might have
had the curiosity to have peeped at me, and seen me enough to know me
again if I had discovered myself to her; so that, in short, there was nothing
to be done that way.
However, Amy, a diligent, indefatigable creature, found out another
woman, and gave her her errand, and sent her to the honest man's house
in Spitalfields, whither she supposed the girl would go after she was out
of her place; and bade her talk with her, and tell her at a distance, that,
as something had been done for her brother, so something would be done
for her too ; and, that she should not be discouraged, she carried her £ 20
to buy her clothes, and bid her not go to service any more, but think of
other things; that she should take a lodging in some good family, and
that she should soon hear farther.
The girl was overjoyed with this news, you may be sure, and at first a
little too much elevated with it, and dressed herself very handsomely
indeed, and, as soon as she had done so, came and paid a visit to Madam
Amy, to let her see how fine she was. Amy congratulated her, and wished
it might be all as she expected, but admonished her not to be elevated
with it too much; told her humility was the best ornament of a gentle
woman, and a great deal of good advice she gave her, but discovered
nothing.
All this was acted in the first years of my setting up my new figure
here in town, and while the masks and balls were in agitation ; and Amy
carried on the affair of setting out my son into the world, which we were
assisted in by the sage advice of my faithful counsellor, Sir Robert Clayton,
who procured us a master for him, by whom he was afterwards sent
abroad to Italy, as you shall hear in its place; and Amy managed my
daughter too very well, though by a third hand.
My amour with my Lord began now to draw to an end, and indeed,
notwithstanding his money, it had lasted so long, that I was much more
sick of his lordship than he could be of me. He grew old and fretful,
and captious, and I must add, which made the vice itself begin to grow
surfeiting and nauseous to me, he grew worse and wickeder the older he
grew, and that to such degree as is not fit to write of, and made me so
weary of him, that, upon one of his capricious humours, which he often
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 311
took occasion to trouble me with, I took occasion to be much less
complaisant to him than I used to be ; and, as I knew him to be hasty, I
first took care to put him into a little passion, and then to resent it, and
this brought us to words, in which I told him I thought he grew sick of
me; and he answered in a heat that truly so he was. I answered that I
found his lordship was endeavouring to make me sick too ; that I had met
with several such rubs from him of late, and that he did not use me as
he used to do, and I begged his lordship he would make himself easy.
This I spoke with an air of coldness and indifference such as I knew he
could not bear; but I did not downright quarrel with him and tell him I
was sick of him too, and desire him to quit me, for I knew that would
come of itself; besides, I had received a great deal of handsome usage
from him, and I was loth to have the breach be on my side, that he might
not be able to say I was ungrateful.
But he put the occasion into my hands, for he came no more to me for
two months ; indeed, I expected a fit of absence, for such I had had several
times before, but not for above a fortnight or three weeks at most ; but
after I had stayed a month, which was longer than ever he kept away
yet, I took a new method with him, for I was resolved now, it should be
in my power to continue or not, as I thought fit. At the end of a month,
therefore, I removed, and took lodgings at Kensington Gravel Pits, at that
part next to the road to Acton, and left nobody in my lodgings but Amy
and a footman, with proper instructions how to behave when his lordship,
being come to himself, should think fit to come again, which I knew he
would.
About the end of two months, he came in the dusk of the evening as
usual. The footman answered him, and told him his lady was not at
home, but there was Mrs Amy above ; so he did not order her to be called
down, but went upstairs into the dining-room, and Mrs Amy came to him.
He asked where I was. 'My lord', said she, 'my mistress has been
removed a good while from hence, and lives at Kensington.' 'Ah, Mrs
Amy! how came you to be here, then?' 'My lord', said she, 'we are
here till the quarter-day, because the goods are not removed, and to give
answers if any comes to ask for my lady.' 'Well, and what answer are
you to give to me?' 'Indeed, my lord', says Amy, 'I have no particular
answer to your lordship, but to tell you and everybody else where my
lady lives, that they may not think she's run away.' 'No, Mrs Amy',
says he, 'I don't think she's run away; but, indeed, I can't go after her
so far as that.' Amy said nothing to that, but made a courtesy, and said
she believed I would be there again for a week or two in a little time.
'How little time, Mrs Amy?' says my lord. 'She comes next Tuesday',
says Amy. 'Very well', says my lord; 'I'll call and see her then'; and
so he went away.
Accordingly I came on the Tuesday, and stayed a fortnight, but he came
not; so I went back to Kensington, and after that I had very few of his
lordship's visits, which I was very glad of, and, in a little time after, was
more glad of it than I was at first, and upon a far better account too.
For now I began not to be sick of his lordship only, but really I began
to be sick of the vice; and, as I had good leisure now to divert and enjoy
myself in the world as much as it was possible for any woman to do
that ever lived in it, so I found that my judgment began to prevail upon
me to fix my delight upon nobler objects than I had formerly done, and
312 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
the very beginning of this brought some just reflections upon me relating
to things past, and to the former manner of my living; and, though there
was not the least hint in all this from what may be called religion or
conscience, and far from anything of repentance, or anything that was
akin to it, especially at first, yet the sense of things, and the knowledge
I had of the world, and the vast variety of scenes that I had acted my
part in, began to work upon my senses, and it came so very strong upon
my mind one morning when I had been lying awake some time in my
bed, as if somebody had asked me the question, What was I a whore for
now ? It occurred naturally upon this inquiry, that at first I yielded to the
importunity of my circumstances, the misery of which the devil dismally
aggravated, to draw me to comply; for I confess I had strong natural
aversions to the crime at first, partly owing to a virtuous education, and
partly to a sense of religion; but the devil, and that greater devil of
poverty, prevailed ; and the person who laid siege to me did it in such an
obliging, and I may almost say irresistible, manner, all still managed by
the evil spirit ; for I must be allowed to believe that he has a share in
all such things, if not the whole management of them. But, I say, it was
carried on by that person in such an irresistible manner, that, as I said
when I related the fact, there was no withstanding it; these circumstances,
I say, the devil managed not only to bring me to comply, but he continued
them as arguments to fortify my mind against all reflection, and to keep
me in that horrid course I had engaged in, as if it were honest and lawful.
But not to dwell upon that now; this was a pretence, and here was
something to be said, though I acknowledge it ought not to have been
sufficient to me at all ; but, I say, to leave that, all this was out of doors ;
the devil himself could not form one argument, or put one reason into
my head now, that could serve for an answer — no, not so much as a
pretended answer to this question, why I should be a whore now.
It had for a while been a little kind of excuse to me that I was engaged
with this wicked old lord, and that I could not in honour forsake him;
but how foolish and absurd did it look to repeat the word 'honour' on
so vile an occasion! as if a woman should prostitute her honour in point
of honour — horrid inconsistency! Honour called upon me to detest the
crime and the man too, and to have resisted all the attacks, which, from
the beginning, had been made upon my virtue ; and honour, had it been
consulted, would have preserved me honest from the beginning:
For 'honesty* and 'honour' are the same.
This, however, shows us with what faint excuses and with what trifles
we pretend to satisfy ourselves, and suppress the attempts of conscience,
in the pursuit of agreeable crime, and in the possessing those pleasures
which we are loth to part with.
But this objection would now serve no longer, for my lord had in some
sort broke his engagements (I won't call it honour again) with me, and
had so far slighted me as fairly to justify my entire quitting of him now;
and so, as the objection was fully answered, the question remained still
unanswered, Why am I a whore now? Nor indeed had I anything to say
for myself, even to myself; I could not without blushing, as wicked as I
was, answer that I loved it for the sake of the vice, and that I delighted
in being a whore, as such; I say, I could not say this, even to myself,
and all alone, nor indeed would it have been true. I was never able, in
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 313
justice and with truth, to say I was so wicked as that; but as necessity
first debauched me, and poverty made me a whore at the beginning, so
excess of avarice for getting money, and excess of vanity, continued me
in the crime, not being able to resist the flatteries of great persons ; being
called the finest woman in France 5 being caressed by a prince ; and after
wards, I had pride enough to expect, and folly enough to believe, though
indeed without ground, by a great monarch. These were my baits, these
the chains by which the devil held me bound, and by which I was indeed
too fast held for any reasoning that I was then mistress of to deliver me from.
But this was all over now; avarice could have no pretence. I was out
of the reach of all that fate could be supposed to do to reduce me; now
I was so far from poor, or the danger of it, that I had £50,000 in my
pocket at least; nay, I had the income of £50,000, for I had £2500 a
year coming in upon very good land security, besides three or four thousand
pounds in money, which I kept by me for ordinary occasions, and, besides,
jewels, and plate, and goods which were worth near £56oo more; these
put together, when I ruminated on it all in my thoughts, as you may be
sure I did often, added weight still to the question, as above, and it
sounded continually in my head, 'What next? What am I a whore
for now ? '
It is true this was, as I say, seldom out of my thoughts, but yet it made
no impressions upon me of that kind which might be expected from a
reflection of so important a nature, and which had so much of substance
and seriousness in it.
But, however, it was not without some little consequences, even at that
time, and which gave a little turn to my way of living at first, as you
shall hear in its place.
But one particular thing intervened, besides this, which gave me some
uneasiness at this time, and made way for other things that followed. I
have mentioned in several little digressions the concern I had upon me
for my children, and in what manner I had directed that affair; I must
go on a little with that part, in order to bring the subsequent parts of my
story together.
My boy, the only son I had left that I had a legal right to call 'son',
was, as I have said, rescued from the unhappy circumstances of being
apprentice to a mechanic, and was brought up upon a new foot; but
though this was infinitely to his advantage, yet it put him back near three
years in his coming into this world; for he had been near a year at the
drudgery he was first put to, and it took up two years more to form him
for what he had hopes given him he should hereafter be, so that he was
full nineteen years old, or rather twenty years, before he came to be put
out as I intended ; at the end of which time I put him to a very flourishing
Italian merchant, and he again sent him to Messina, in the island of Sicily ;
and, a little before the juncture I am now speaking of, I had letters from
him — that is to say, Mrs Amy had letters from him, intimating that he
was out of his time, and that he had an opportunity to be taken into an
English house there, on very good terms, if his support from hence might
answer what he was bid to hope for; and so begged that what would be
done for him might be so ordered that he might have it for his present
advancement, referring for the particulars to his master, the merchant in
London, who he had been put apprentice to here; who, to cut the story
short, gave such a satisfactory account of it, and of my young man, to
314 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
my steady and faithful counsellor, Sir Robert Clayton, that I made no
scruple to pay £4000, which was £1000 more than he demanded, or rather
proposed, that he might have encouragement to enter into the world better
than he expected.
His master remitted the money very faithfully to him ; and finding, by
Sir Robert Clayton, that the young gentleman — for so he called him — was
well supported, wrote such letters on his account as gave him a credit at
Messina equal in value to the money itself.
I could not digest it very well that I should all this while conceal myself
thus from my own child, and make all this favour due, in his opinion, to
a stranger ; and yet I could not find in my heart to let my son know what
a mother he had, and what a life she lived; when, at the same time that
he must think himself infinitely obliged to me, he must be obliged, if he
was a man of virtue, to hate his mother, and abhor the way of living by
which all the bounty he enjoyed was raised.
This is the reason of mentioning this part of my son's story, which is
otherwise no ways concerned in my history, but, as it put me upon thinking
how to put an end to that wicked course I was in, that my own child,
when he should afterwards come to England in a good figure, and with
the appearance of a merchant, should not be ashamed to own me.
But there "was another difficulty, which lay heavier upon me a great
deal, and that was my daughter, who, as before, I had relieved by the
hands of another instrument, which Amy had procured. The girl, as I
have mentioned, was directed to put herself into a good garb, take lodgings,
and entertain a maid to wait upon her, and to give herself some breeding —
that is to say, to learn to dance, and fit herself to appear as a gentlewoman;
being made to hope that she should, some time or other, find that she
should be put into a condition to support her character, and to make her
self amends for all her former troubles. She was only charged not to be
drawn into matrimony till she was secured of a fortune that might assist
to dispose of herself, suitable not to what she then was, but what she was to be.
The girl was too sensible of her circumstances not to give all possible
satisfaction of that kind, and indeed she was mistress of toe much under
standing not to see how much she should be obliged to that part for her
own interest.
It was not long after this, but being well equipped, and in everything
well set out, as she was directed, she came, as I have related above,
and paid a visit to Mrs Amy, and to tell her of her good fortune. Amy
pretended to be much surprised at the alteration, and overjoyed for her
sake, and began to treat her very well, entertained her handsomely, and
when she would have gone away, pretended to ask my leave, and sent
my coach home with her; and, in short, learning from her where she
lodged, which was in the city, Amy promised to return her visit, and did
so; and, in a word, Amy and Susan (for she was my own name) began
an intimate acquaintance together.
There was an inexpressible difficulty in the poor girl's way, or else I
should not have been able to have forborne discovering myself to her, and
this was, her having been a servant in my particular family; and I could
by no means think of ever letting the children know what a kind of
creature they owed their being to, or giving them an occasion to upbraid
their mother with her scandalous life, much less to justify the like practice
from my example.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 315
Thus it was with me; and thus, no doubt, considering parents always
find it, that their own children are a restraint to them in their worst
courses, when the sense of a superior power has not the same influence.
But of that hereafter.
There happened, however, one good circumstance in the case of this
poor girl, which brought about a discovery sooner than otherwise it would
have been, and it was thus. After she and Amy had been intimate for
some time, and had exchanged several visits, the girl, now grown a woman,
talking to Amy of the gay things that used to fall out when she was
servant in my family, spoke of it with a kind of concern that she could
not see (me) her lady; and at last she adds, ''Twas very strange, madam',
says she to Amy, 'but though I lived near two years in the house, I never
saw my mistress in my life, except it was that public night when she
danced in the fine Turkish habit, and then she was so disguised that I
knew nothing of her afterwards.'
Amy was glad to hear this, but, as she was a cunning girl from the
beginning, she was not to be bit, and so she laid no stress upon that at
first, but gave me an account of it ; and I must confess, it gave me a secret
joy to think that I was not known to her, and that, by virtue of that only
accident, I might, when other circumstances made room for it, discover
myself to her, and let her know she had a mother in a condition fit to
be owned.
It was a dreadful restraint to me before, and this gave me some very
sad reflections, and made way for the great question I have mentioned
above ; and by how much the circumstance was bitter to me, by so much
the more agreeable it was to understand that the girl had never seen me,
and consequently did not know me again if she was to be told who I was.
However, the next time she came to visit Amy, I was resolved to put
it to a trial, and to come into the room and let her see me, and to see
by that whether she knew me or not; but Amy put me by, lest indeed,
as there was reason enough to question, I should not be able to contain,
or forbear discovering myself to her; so it went off for that time.
But both these circumstances, and that is the reason of mentioning them,
brought me to consider of the life I lived, and to resolve to put myself
into some figure of life in which I might not be scandalous to my own
family, and be afraid to make myself known to my own children, who
were my own flesh and blood.
There was another daughter I had, which, with all our inquiries, we
could not hear of, high nor low, for several years after the first. But I
return to my own story.
Being now in part removed from my old station, I seemed to be in a
fair way of retiring from my old acquaintances, and consequently from the
vile, abominable trade I had driven so long; so that the door seemed to
be, as it were, particularly open to my reformation, if I had any mind to
it in earnest; but, for all that, some of my old friends, as I had used to
call them, inquired me out, and came to visit me at Kensington, and that
more frequently than I wished they would do; but it being once known
where I was, there was no avoiding it, unless I would have downright
refused and affronted them ; and I was not yet in earnest enough with my
resolutions to go that length.
The best of it was, my old lewd favourite, who I now heartily hated,
entirely dropped me. He came once to visit me, but I caused Amy to
316 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
deny me, and say I was gone out. She did it so oddly, too, that, when
his lordship went away, he said coldly to her, 'Well, well, Mrs Amy, I
find your mistress does not desire to be seen ; tell her I won't trouble her
any more', repeating the words 'any more' two or three times over, just
at his going away.
I reflected a little on it at first as unkind to him, having had so many
considerable presents from him, but, as I have said, I was sick of him,
and that on some accounts which, if I could suffer myself to publish them,
would fully justify my conduct. But that part of the story will not bear
telling, so I must leave it, and proceed.
I had begun a little, as I have said above, to reflect upon my manner
of living, and to think of putting a new face upon it, and nothing moved
me to it more than the consideration of my having three children, who
were now grown up ; and yet that, while I was in that station of life, I
could not converse with them or make myself known to them; and this
gave me a great deal of uneasiness. At last I entered into talk on this
part of it with my woman Amy.
We lived at Kensington, as I have said, and though I had done with
my old wicked 1 , as above, yet I was frequently visited, as I said, by
some others; so that, in a word, I began to be known in the town, not
by name only, but by my character too, which was worse.
It was one morning, when Amy was in bed with me, and I had some
of my dullest thoughts about me, that Amy, hearing me sigh pretty often,
asked me if I was not well. ' Yes, Amy, I am well enough ', says I, ' but
my mind is oppressed with heavy thoughts, and has been so a good
while'; and then I told her how it grieved me that I could not make
myself known to my own children, or form any acquaintances in the world.
'Why so?' says Amy. 'Why, prithee, Amy', says I, 'what will my children
say to themselves, and to one another, when they find their mother, however
rich she may be, is at best but a whore, a common whore? And as for
acquaintance, prithee, Amy, what sober lady or what family of any character
will visit or be acquainted with a whore?'
'Why, all that's true, madam', says Amy; 'but how can it be remedied
now?' 'Tis true, Amy', said I, 'the thing cannot be remedied now, but
the scandal of it, I fancy, may be thrown off.'
'Truly', says Amy, 'I do not see how, unless you will go abroad again,
and live in some other nation where nobody has known us or seen us, so
that they cannot say they ever saw us before.'
That very thought of Amy put what follows into my head, and I
returned, ' Why, Amy ', says I, ' is it not possible for me to shift my being
from this part of the town and go and live in another part of the city,
or another part of the country, and be as entirely concealed as if I had
never been known?'
'Yes', says Amy, 'I believe it might; but then you must put off all
your equipages and servants, coaches and horses, change your liveries — nay,
your own clothes, and, if it was possible, your very face.'
'Well', says I, 'and that's the way, Amy, and that I'll do, and that
forthwith ; for I am not able to live in this manner any longer.' Amy
came into this with a kind of pleasure particular to herself — that is to say,
with an eagerness not to be resisted; for Amy was apt to be precipitant
in her motions, and was for doing it immediately. 'Well', says I, 'Amy,
as soon as you will; but what course must we take to do it? We cannot
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 317
put off servants, and coach and horses, and everything, leave off house
keeping, and transform ourselves into a new shape all in a moment;
servants must have warning, and the goods must be sold off, and a thousand
things'; and this began to perplex us, and in particular took us up two
or three days' consideration.
At last Amy, who was a clever manager in such cases, came to me with
a scheme, as she called it. 'I have found it out, madam', says she, 'I
have found a scheme how you shall, if you have a mind to it, begin and
finish a perfect entire change of your figure and circumstances in one day,
and shall be as much unknown, madam, in twenty-four hours as you would
be in so many years.'
'Come, Amy', says I, 'let us hear of it, for you please me mightily
with the thoughts of it.' 'Why, then', says Amy, 'let me go into the
city this afternoon, and I'll inquire out some honest, plain, sober family,
where I will take lodgings for you, as for a country gentlewoman that
desires to be in London for about half a year, and to board yourself and
a kinswoman — that is, half a servant, half a companion, meaning myself;
and so agree with them by the month. To this lodging (if I hit upon
one to your mind) you may go to-morrow morning in a hackney-coach,
with nobody but me, and leave such clothes and linen as you think fit,
but, to be sure, the plainest you have; and then you are removed at once;
you never need set your foot in this house again (meaning where we then
were) , or see anybody belonging to it. In the meantime, I'll let the servants
know that you are going over to Holland upon extraordinary business, and
will leave off your equipages, and so I'll give them warning, or, if they
will accept of it, give them a month's wages. Then I'll sell off your
furniture as well as I can. As to your coach, it is but having it new
painted and the lining changed, and getting new harness and hammercloths,
and you may keep it still, or dispose of it as you think fit. And only
take care to let this lodging be in some remote part of the town, and you
may be as perfectly unknown as if you had never been in England in
your life.'
This was Amy's scheme, and it pleased me so well, that I resolved not
only to let her go, but was resolved to go with her myself; but Amy put
me off of that, because, she said, she should have occasion to hurry up
and down so long that if I was with her it would rather hinder than
further her, so I waived it.
In a word, Amy went, and was gone five long hours; but when she
came back, I could see by her countenance that her success had been
suitable to her pains, for she came laughing and gaping. ' O madam ! '
says, she, 'I have pleased you to the life'; and with that she tells me how
she had fixed upon a house in a court in the Minories; that she was
directed to it merely by accident; that it was a female family, the master
of the house being gone to New England, and that the woman had four
children, kept two maids, and lived very handsomely, but wanted company
to divert her; and that on that very account she had agreed to take
boarders.
Amy agreed for a good, handsome price, because she was resolved I
should be used well; so she bargained to give her £35 for the half-year,
and £50 if we took a maid, leaving that to my choice ; and that we might
be satisfied we should meet with nothing very gay, the people were
Quakers, and I liked them the better.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I was so pleased that I resolved to go with Amy the next day to see
the lodgings, and see the woman of the house, and see how I liked them;
but if I was pleased with the general, I was much more pleased with the
particulars, for the gentlewoman — I must call her so, though she was a
Quaker — was a most courteous, obliging, mannerly person, perfectly well-
bred and perfectly well-humoured, and, in short, the most agreeable
conversation that ever I met with; and, which was worth all, so grave,
and yet so pleasant and so merry, that 'tis scarcely possible for me to
express how I was pleased and delighted with her company; and par
ticularly, I was so pleased that I would go away no more; so I e'en took
up my lodging there the very first night.
In the meantime, though it took up Amy almost a month so entirely to
put off all the appearances of housekeeping, as above, it need take me
up no time to relate it; 'tis enough to say that Amy quitted all that
part of the world and came pack and package to me, and here we took
up our abode.
I was now in a perfect retreat indeed, remote from the eyes of all that
ever had seen me, and as much out of the way of being ever seen or
heard of by any of the gang that used to follow me as if I had been
among the mountains in Lancashire; for when did a blue garter or a
coach-and-six come into a little narrow passage in the Minories or Goodman's
Fields? And, as there was no fear of them, so really I had no desire to
see them, or so much as to hear from them any more as long as I lived.
I seemed in a little hurry while Amy came and went so every day at
first, but, when that was over, I lived here perfectly retired, and with a
most pleasant and agreeable lady; I must call her so, for, though a
Quaker, she had a full share of good breeding, sufficient to her if she had
been a duchess ; in a word, she was the most agreeable creature in her
conversation, as I said before, that ever I met with.
I pretended, after I had been there some time, to be extremely in love
with the dress of the Quakers, and this pleased her so much that she
would needs dress me up one day in a suit of her own clothes; but my
real design was to see whether it would pass upon me for a disguise.
Amy was struck with the novelty, though I had not mentioned my
design to her, and, when the Quaker was gone out of the room, says
Amy, 'I guess your meaning; it is a perfect disguise to you. Why, you
look quite another body; I should not have known you myself. Nay',
says Amy, 'more than that, it makes you look ten years younger than
you did.'
Nothing could please me better than that, and when Amy repeated it,
I was so fond of it that I asked my Quaker (I won't call her landlady ;
'tis indeed too coarse a word for her, and she deserved a much better)
— I say, I asked her if she would sell it. I told her I was so fond of it
that I would give her enough to buy her a better suit. She declined it
at first, but I soon perceived that it was chiefly in good manners, because
I should not dishonour myself, as she called it, to put on her old clothes »
but, if I pleased to accept of them, she would give me them for my
dressing-clothes, and go with me, and buy a suit for me that might be
better worth my wearing.
But as I conversed in a very frank, open manner with her, I bid her,
do the like with me; that I made no scruples of such things, but that
if she would let me have them I would satisfy her. So she let me know
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 319
what they cost, and to make her amends I gave her three guineas more
than they cost her.
This good (though unhappy) Quaker had the misfortune to have had a
bad husband, and he was gone beyond sea. She had a good house, and
well furnished, and had some jointure of her own estate which supported
her and her children, so that she did not want; but she was not at all
above such a help as my being there was to her; so she was as glad of
me as I was of her.
However, as I knew there was no way to fix this new acquaintance like
making myself a friend to her, I began with making her some handsome
presents and the like to her children. And first, opening my bundles one
day in my chamber, I heard her in another room, and called her in with
a kind of familiar way. There I showed her some of my fine clothes,
and having among the rest of my things a piece of very fine new holland,
which I had bought a little before, worth about 95. an ell, I pulled it out :
' Here, my friend', says I, 'I will make you a present, if you will accept
of it'; and with that I laid the piece of holland in her lap.
I could see she was surprised, and that she could hardly speak. 'What
dost thou mean?' says she. 'Indeed I cannot have the face to accept so
fine a. present as this'; adding, 'Tis fit for thy own use, but 'tis above
my wear, indeed.' I thought she had meant she must not wear it so fine
because she was a Quaker. So I returned, 'Why; do not you Quakers
wear fine linen neither?' 'Yes', says she, 'we wear fine linen when we
can afford it, but this is too good for me.' However, I made her take
it, and she was very thankful too. But my end was answered another
way, for by this I engaged her so, that, as I found her a woman of under
standing, and of honesty too, I might, upon any occasion, have a confidence
in her, which was, indeed, what I very much wanted.
By accustoming myself to converse with her, I had not only learned to
dress like a Quaker, but so used myself to ' thee ' and ' thou ', that I talked
like a Quaker too, as readily and naturally as if I had been born among
them; and, in a word, I passed for a Quaker among all people that did
not know me. I went but little abroad, but I had been so used to a
coach that I knew not how well to go without one ; besides, I thought it
would be a farther disguise to me, so I told my Quaker friend one day
that I thought I lived too close, that I wanted air. She proposed taking
a hackney-coach sometimes, or a boat; but I told her I had always had
a coach of my own till now, and I could find in my heart to have one again.
She seemed to think it strange at first, considering how close I lived,
but had nothing to say when she found I did not value the expense; so,
in short, I resolved I would have a coach. When we came to talk of
equipages, she extolled the having all things plain. I said so too; so I
left it to her direction, and a coachmaker was sent for, and he provided
me a plain coach, no gilding or painting, lined with a light grey cloth,
and my coachman had a coat of the same, and no lace on his hat.
When all was ready I dressed myself in the dress I bought of her, and
said, 'Come, I'll be a Quaker to-day, and you and I'll go abroad'; which
we did, and there was not a Quaker in the town looked less like a
counterfeit than I did. But all this was my particular plot, to be the
more completely concealed, and that I might depend upon being not
known, and yet need not be confined like a prisoner and be always in
fear; so that all the rest was grimace.
320 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
We lived here very easy and quiet, and yet 1 cannot say I was so in
my mind ; I was like a fish out of water. I -was as gay and as young in
my disposition as I was at five-and-twenty ; and, as I had always been
courted, flattered, and used to love it, so I miss-ed it in my conversation;
and this put me many times upon looking back upon things past.
I had very few moments in my life which, in their reflection, afforded
me anything but regret : but of all the foolish actions I had to look back
upon in my life, none looked so preposterous and so like distraction, nor
left so much melancholy on my mind, as my parting with my friend, the
merchant of Paris, and the refusing him upon such honourable and just
conditions as he had offered; and though on his just (which I called
unkind) rejecting my invitation to come to him again, I had looked on him
with some disgust, yet now my mind run upon him continually, and the
ridiculous conduct of my refusing him, and I could never be satisfied
about him. I flattered myself that if I could but see him I could yet
master him, and that he would presently forget all that had passed that
might be thought unkind; but, as there was no room to imagine anything
like that to oe possible, I threw those thoughts off again as much
as I could.
However, they continually returned, and I had no rest night or day for
thinking of him, who I had forgot above eleven years. I told Amy of it,
and we talked it over sometimes in bed, almost whole nights together.
At last Amy started a thing of her own head, which put it in a way of
management, though a wild one too. 'You are so uneasy, madam', says
she, 'about this Mr , the merchant at Paris; come', says she, 'if you'll
give me leave, I'll go over and see what's become of him.'
'Not for ten thousand pounds', said I; 'no, nor if you met him in the
street, not to offer to speak to him on my account.' 'No', says Amy, 'I
would not speak to him at all ; or if I did, I warrant you it shall not look
to be upon your account. I'll only inquire after him, and if he is in
being, you shall hear of him.; if not, you shall hear of him still, and that
may be enough.'
'Why', says I, 'if you will promise me not to enter into anything
relating to me with him, nor to begin any discourse at all unless he begins
it with you, I could almost be persuaded to let you go and try.'
Amy promised me all that I desired; and, in a word, to cut the story
short, I let her go, but tied her up to so many particulars that it was
almost impossible her going could signify anything ; and, had she intended
to observe them, she might as well have stayed at home as have gone,
for I charged her, if she came to see him, she should not so much as
take notice that she knew him again; and if he spoke to her, she should
tell him she was come away from me a great many years ago, and knew
nothing what was become of me; that she had been come over to France
six years ago, and was married there, and lived at Calais; or to that purpose.
Amy promised me nothing, indeed; for, as she said, it was impossible
for her to resolve what would be fit to do, or not to do, till she was
there upon the spot, and had found out the gentleman, or heard of him;
but that then, if I would trust her, as I had always done, she would
answer for it that she would do nothing but what should be for my
interest, and what she would hope I should be very well pleased with.
With this general commission, Amy, notwithstanding she had been so
frighted at the sea, ventured her carcass once more by water, and away
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 321
she goes to France. She had four articles of confidence in charge
to inquire after for me, and, as I found by her, she had one for herself
— I say, four for me, because, though her first and principal errand was
to inform myself of my Dutch merchant, yet I gave her in charge to inquire,
second, after my husband, who I left a trooper in the gens d' armes ; third,
after that rogue of a Jew, whose very name I hated, and of whose face I
had such a frightful idea that Satan himself could not counterfeit a worse;
and, lastly, after my foreign prince. And she discharged herself very well
of them all, though not so successful as I wished.
Amy had a very good passage over the sea, and I had a letter from her,
from Calais, in three days after she went from London. When she came
to Paris she wrote me an account, that as to her first and most important
inquiry, which was after the Dutch merchant, her account was, that he had
returned to Paris, lived three years there, and, quitting that city, went to
live at Rouen; so away goes Amy for Rouen.
But as she was going to bespeak a place in the coach to Rouen, she
meets very accidentally in the street with her gentleman, as I called him
— that is to say, the Prince de 's gentleman, who had been her
favourite, as above.
You may be sure there were several other kind things happened between
Amy and him, as you shall hear afterwards ; but the two main things were,
first, that Amy inquired about his lord, and had a full account of him, of
which presently; and, in the next place, telling him whither she was going
and for what, he bade her not go yet, for that he would have a particular
account of it the next day from a merchant that knew him; and, accord
ingly, he brought her word, the next day, that he had been for six years
before that gone for Holland, and that he lived there still.
This, I say, was the first news from Amy for some time — I mean about
my merchant. In the meantime Amy, as I have said, inquired about the
other persons she had in her instructions. As for the prince, the gentleman
told her he was gone into Germany, where his estate lay, and that he
lived there; that he had made great inquiry after me; that he (his gentle
man) had made all the search he had been able for me, but that he could
not hear of me; that he believed, if his lord had known I had been in
England, he would have gone over to me; but that, after long inquiry, he
was obliged to give it over; but that he verily believed, if he could have
found me, he would have married me ; and that he was extremely concerned
that he could hear nothing of me.
I was not at all satisfied with Amy's account, but ordered her to go to
Rouen herself, which she did, and there, with much difficulty (the person
she was directed to being dead) — I say, with much difficulty she came to
be informed that my merchant had lived there two years, or something
more, but that, having met with a very great misfortune, he had gone back
to Holland, as the French merchant said, where he had stayed two years;
but with this addition, viz., that he came back again to Rouen, and lived
in good reputation there another year; and afterwards he was gone to
England, and that he lived in London. But Amy could by no means learn
how to write to him there, till, by great accident, an old Dutch skipper,
who had formerly served him, coming to Rouen, Amy was told of it ; and
he told her that he lodged in St Laurence Pountney's Lane, in London,
but was to be seen every day upon the Exchange, in the French walk.
This, Amy thought it was time enough to tell me of when she came
at
322 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
over 5 and, besides, she did not find this Dutch skipper till she had spent
four or five months and been again in Paris, and then come back to Rouen
for farther information. But, in the meantime, she wrote to me from Paris
that he was not to be found by any means; that he had been gone from
Paris seven or eight years ; that she was told he had lived at Rouen, and
she was agoing thither to inquire, but that she had heard afterwards that
he was gone also from thence to Holland, so she did not go.
This, J say, was Amy's first account; and I, not satisfied with it, had
sent her an order to go to Rouen to inquire there also, as above.
While this was negotiating, and I received these accounts from Amy at
several times, a strange adventure happened to me which I must mention
just here. I had been abroad, to take the air as usual with my Quaker,
as far as Epping Forest, and we were driving back towards London, when,
on the road between Bow and Mile End, two gentlemen on horseback
came riding by, having overtaken the coach and passed it, and went
forwards towards London.
They did not ride apace, though they passed the coach, for we went
very softly ; nor did they look into the coach at all, but rode side by side,
earnestly talking to one another and inclining their faces sideways a little
towards one another, he that went nearest the coach with his face from it,
and he that was farthest from the coach with his face towards it, and
passing in the very next tract to the coach, I could hear them talk Dutch
very distinctly. But it is impossible to describe the confusion I was in,
when I plainly saw that the farthest of the two, him whose face looked
towards the coach, was my friend the Dutch merchant of Paris.
If it had been possible to conceal my disorder from my friend the
Quaker, I would have done it, but I found she was too well acquainted
with such things not to take the hint. 'Dost thou understand Dutch?'
said she. 'Why?' said I. 'Why', says she, 'it is easy to suppose that
thou art a little concerned at somewhat those men say; I suppose they
are talking of thee.' 'Indeed, my good friend', said I, 'thou art mistaken
this time, for I know very well what they are talking of, but 'tis all about
ships and trading affairs.' 'Well', says she, 'then one of them is a man
friend of thine, or somewhat is the case ; for though thy tongue will not
confess it, thy face does.'
I was going to have told a bold lie, and said I knew nothing of them;
but I found it was impossible to conceal it, so I said, 'Indeed, I think I
know the farthest of them ; but I have neither spoken to him, or so much
as seen him for about eleven years.' 'Well, then', says she, 'thou hast
seen him with more than common eyes when thou didst see him, or else
seeing him now would not be such a surprise to thee.' 'Indeed', said I,
'it is true I am a little surprised at seeing him just now, for I thought
he had been in quite another part of the world 5 and I can assure you I
never saw him in England in my life.' 'Well, then, it is the more likely
he is come over now on purpose to seek thee.' 'No, no* said I; 'knight-
errantry is over; women are not so hard to come at that men should not
be able to please themselves without running from one kingdom to
another.' 'Well, well', says she, 'I would have him see thee for all that,
as plainly as thou hast seen him.' 'No, but he shan't' says I; 'for I am
sure he don't know me in this dress, and I'll take care he shan't see my
face, if I can help it'; so I held up my fan before my face, and she saw
me resolute in that, so she pressed me no farther.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
We had several discourses upon the subject, but still I let her know I
was resolved he should not know me; but at last I confessed so much,
that though I would not let him know who I was or where I lived, I did
not care if I knew where he lived, and how I might inquire about him.
She took the hint immediately, and her servant being behind the coach,
she called him to the coach-side and bade him keep his eye upon that
gentleman, and, as soon as the coach came to the end of Whitechapel, he
should get down and follow him closely, so as to see where he put up
his horse, and then to go into the inn and inquire, if he could, who he
was, and where he lived.
The fellow followed diligently to the gate of an inn in Bishopsgate
Street, and seeing him go in, made no doubt but he had him fast; but
was confounded when, upon inquiry, he found the inn was a thoroughfare
into another street, and that the two gentlemen had only rode through the
inn, as the way to the street where they were going; and so, in short,
came back no wiser than he went.
My kind Quaker was more vexed at the disappointment, at least appar
ently so, than I was; and, asking the fellow if he was sure he knew the
gentleman again if he saw him, the fellow said he had followed him so
close and took so much notice of him, in order to do his errand as it
ought to be done, that he was very sure he should know him again ; and
that, besides, he was sure he should know his horse.
This part was, indeed, likely enough; and the kind Quaker, without
telling me anything of the matter, caused her man to place himself just
at the comer of Whitechapel Church wall every Saturday, in the afternoon,
that being the day when the citizens chiefly ride abroad to take the air,
and there to watch all the afternoon, and look for him.
It was not till the fifth Saturday that her man came, with a great deal
of joy, and gave her an account that he had found out the gentleman;
that he was a Dutchman, but a French merchant; that he came from
Rouen, and his name was , and that he lodged at Mr 's, on
Laurence Pountney's Hill. I was surprised, you may be sure, when she
came and told me one evening all the particulars, except that of having
set her man to watch. 'I have found out thy Dutch friend', says she,
'and can tell thee how to find him too.' I coloured again as red as fire.
' Then thou hast dealt with the evil one, friend ', said I very gravely.
'No, no', says she, 'I have no familiar; but I tell thee I have found him
for thee, and his name is So-and-so, and he lives as above recited.'
I was surprised again at this, not being able to imagine how she should
come to know all this. However, to put me out of pain, she told me
what she had done. 'Well', said I, 'thou art very kind, but this is not
worth thy pains ; for now I know it, 'tis only to satisfy my curiosity; for
I shall not send to him upon any account.' 'Be that as thou wilt', says
she. 'Besides', added she, 'thou art in the right to say so to me, for
why should I be trusted with it? Though, if I were, I assure thee I
should not betray thee.' 'That's very kind', said I; 'and I believe theej
and assure thyself, if I do send to him, thou shalt know it, and be trusted
with it too.'
During this interval of five weeks I suffered a hundred thousand per
plexities of mind. I was thoroughly convinced I was right as to the
person, that it was the man. I knew him so well, and saw him so plain,
I could not be deceived. I drove out again in the coach (on pretenc/s of
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
air) almost every day in hopes of seeing him again, but was never so
lucky as to see him; and, now I had made the discovery, I was as far to
seek what measures to take as I was before.
To send to him, or speak to him first if I should see him, so as to be
known to him, that I resolved not to do, if I died for it. To watch him
about his lodging, that was as much below my spirit as the other. So
that, in a word, 1 was at a perfect loss how to act or what to do.
At length came Amy's letter, with the last account which she had at
Rouen from the Dutch skipper, which, confirming the other, left me out
of doubt that this was my man ; but still no human invention could bring
me to the speech of him in such a manner as would suit with my
resolutions. For, after all, how did I know what his circumstances were ?
whether married or single? And, if he had a wife, I knew he was so
honest a man he would not so much as converse with me, or so much as
know me if he met me in the street.
In the next place, as he entirely neglected me, which, in short, is the
worst way of slighting a woman, and had given no answer to my letters,
I did not know but he might be the same man still ; so I resolved that I
could do nothing in it unless some fairer opportunity presented, which
might make my way clearer to me ; for I was determined he should have
no room to put any more slights upon me.
In these thoughts I passed away near three months; till at last, being
impatient, I resolved to send for Amy to come over, and tell her how
things stood, and that I would do nothing till she came. Amy, in answer,
sent me word she would come away with all speed, but begged of me
that I would enter into no engagement with him, or anybody, till she
arrived ; but still keeping me in the dark as to the thing itself which she
had to say; at which I was heartily vexed, for many reasons.
But while all these things were transacting, and letters and answers
passed between Amy and I, a little slower than usual, at which I was not
so well pleased as I used to be with Amy's despatch— I say, in this time
the following scene opened.
It was one afternoon, about four o'clock, my friendly Quaker and I sitting
in her chamber upstairs, and very cheerful, chatting together (for she was
the best company in the world), when, somebody ringing hastily at the
door, and no servant just then in the way, she ran down herself to the
door, when a gentleman appears, with a footman attending, and making
some apologies, which she did not thoroughly understand, he speaking
but broken English, he asked to speak with me, by the very same name
that I went by in her house, which, by the way, was not the name that
he had known me by.
She, with very civil language, in her way, brought him into a very
handsome parlour below stairs, and said she would go and see whether
the person who lodged in her house owned that name, and he should
hear farther.
I was a little surprised, even before 1 knew anything of who it was, my
mind foreboding the thing as it happened ( whence that arises let the
naturalists explain to us); but I was frighted and ready to die, when my
Quaker came up all gay and crowing. 'There', says she, 'is the Dutch
French merchant come to see thee ' I could not speak one word to her,
nor stir off of my chair, but sat as motionless as a statue. She talked a
thousand pleasant things to me, but they made no impression on me. At
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 325
last she pulled me and teased me. 'Come, come', says she, 'be thyself,
and rouse up. I must go down again to him ; what shall I say to him ? '
' Say ', said I, ' that you have no such body in the house.' ' That I cannot
do', says she; 'because it is not the truth. Besides, I have owned thou
art above. Come, come, go down with me.' ' Not for a thousand guineas '
said I. 'Well', says she, 'I'll go and tell him thou wilt come quickly.'
So, without giving me time to answer her, away she goes.
A million of thoughts circulated in ruy head while she was gone, and
what to do I could not tell ; I saw no remedy but I must speak with him,
but would have given £500 to have shunned it; yet had I shunned it,
perhaps then I would have given £ 500 again that I had seen him. Thus
fluctuating and unconcluding were my thoughts, what 1 so earnestly desired,
I declined when it offered itself; and what now I pretended to decline was
nothing but what 1 had been at the expense of £ 40 or £ 50 to send Amy
to France for, and even without any view, or, indeed, any rational expec
tation of bringing it to pass; and what for half a year before I was so
uneasy about that I could not be quiet night or day till Amy proposed to
go over to inquire after him. In short, my thoughts were all confused
and in the utmost disorder. I had once refused and rejected him, and I
repented it heartily; then I had taken ill his silence, and in my mind
rejected him again, but had repented that too. Now I had stooped so low
as to send after him into France, which if he had known, perhaps, he had
never come after me; and should I reject him a third time? On the other
hand, he had repented too, in his turn, perhaps, and, not knowing how I
had acted, either in stooping to send in search after him or in the
wickeder part of my life, was come over hither to seek me again; and I
might take him, perhaps, with the same advantages as I might have done
before, and would I now be backward to see him? Well, while I was in
this hurry my friend the Quaker conies up again, and perceiving the con
fusion I was in, she runs to her closet, and fetched me a little pleasant
cordial; but I would not taste it. 'Oh', says she, 'I understand thee.
Be not uneasy; I'll give thee something shall take off all the smell of it;
if he kisses thee a thousand times he shall be no wiser.' I thought to
myself, 'Thou art perfectly acquainted with affairs of this nature; I think
you must govern me now ' ; so I began to incline to go down with her.
Upon that I took the cordial, and she gave me a kind of spicy preserve
after it, whose flavour was so strong, and yet so deliciously pleasant, that
it would cheat the nicest smelling, and it left not the least taint of the
cordial on the breath.
Well, after this, though with some hesitation still, I went down a pair
of back-stairs with her, and into a dining-room, next to the parlour in
which he was; but there I halted, and desired she would let me consider
of it a little. 'Well, do so', says she, and left me with more readiness
than she did before. 'Do consider, and I'll come to thee again.'
Though I hung back with an awkwardness that was really unfeigned,
yet, when she so readily left me, I thought it was not so kind, and I began
to think she should have pressed me still on to it; so foolishly backward
are we to the thing which, of all the world, we most desire; mocking
ourselves with a feigned reluctance, when the negative would be death to
us. But she was too cunning for me; for while I, as it were, blamed her
in my mind for not carrying me to him, though, at the same time, I
appeared backward to see him, on a sudden she unlocks the folding-doors,
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
which looked into the next parlour, and throwing them open. 'There*,
says she (ushering him in), 'is the person who, I suppose, thou inquirest
for'; and the same moment, with a kind decency, she retired, and that so
swift that she would not give us leave hardly to know which way she went.
I stood up, but was confounded with a sudden inquiry in my thoughts
how I should receive him, and with a resolution as swift as lightning, in
answer to it, said to myself, 'It shall be coldly.' So on a sudden I put
on an air of stiffness and ceremony, and held it for about two minutes;
but it was with great difficulty.
He restrained himself too, on the other hand, came towards me gravely,
and saluted me in form; but it was, it seems, upon his supposing the
Quaker was behind him, whereas she, as I said, understood things too
well, and had retired as if she had vanished, that we might have full
freedom; for, as she said afterwards, she supposed we had seen one
another before, though it might have been a great while ago.
Whatever stiffness I had put on my behaviour to him, 1 was surprised
in my mind, and angry, at his, and began to wonder what kind of a
ceremonious meeting it was to be. However, after he perceived the woman
was gone he made a kind of a hesitation, looking a little round him.
'Indeed', said he, 'I thought the gentlewoman was not withdrawn'; and
with that he took me in his arms and kissed me three or four times; but
I, that was prejudiced to the last degree with the coldness of his first
salutes, when I did not kuow the cause of it, could not be thoroughly
cleared of the prejudice though I did know the cause, and thought that
even his return, and taking me in his arms, did not seem to have the
same ardour with which he used to receive me, and this made me behave
to him awkwardly, and I know not how for a good while; but this by
the way.
He began with a kind of an ecstasy upon the subject of his finding me
out ; how it was possible that he should have been four years in England,
and had used all the ways imaginable, and could never so much as have
the least intimation of me, or of any one like me; and that it was now
above two years that he had despaired of it, and had given over all
inquiry ; and that now he should chop upon me, as it were, unlocked and
unsought for.
I could easily have accounted for his not finding me if I had but set
down the detail of my real retirement; but I gave it a new, and indeed a
truly hypocritical turn. I told him that any one that knew the manner
of life I led might account for his not finding me; that the retreat I had
taken up would have rendered it a hundred thousand to one odds that he
ever found me at all; that, as I had abandoned all conversation, taken up
another name, lived remote from London, and had not preserved one
acquaintance in it, it was no wonder he had not met with me; that even
my dress would let him see that I did not desire to be known by anybody.
Then he asked if I had not received some letters from him. I told him
no, he had not thought fit to give me the civility of an answer to the last
I wrote to him, and he could not suppose I should expect a return after
a silence in a case where I had laid myself so low, and exposed myself
in a manner I had never been used to; that indeed I had never sent for
any letters after that to the place where I had ordered his to be directed;
and that, being so justly, as I thought, punished for my weakness, I had
nothing to do but to repent of being a fool, after I had strictly adhered to
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 327
a just principle before? that, however, as what I did was rather from
motions of gratitude than from real weakness, however it might be con
strued by him, I had the satisfaction in myself of having fully discharged
the debt. I added, that I had not wanted occasions of all the seeming
advancements which the pretended felicity of a marriage life was usually set
off with, and might have been what I desired not to name ; but that, however
low I had stooped to him, I had maintained the dignity of female liberty
against all the attacks either of pride or avarice ; and that I had been infinitely
obliged to him for giving me an opportunity to discharge the only obliga
tion that endangered me, without subjecting me to the consequence; and
that I hoped he was satisfied I had paid the debt by offering myself to
be chained, but was infinitely debtor to him another way for letting me
remain free.
He was so confounded at this discourse that he knew not what to say,
and, for a good while, he stood mute indeed ; but recovering himself a little,
he said I run out into a discourse he hoped was over and forgotten, and
he did not intend to revive it; that he knew I had not had his letters,
for that, when he first came to England, he had been at the place to which
they were directed, and found them all lying there but one, and that the
people had not known how to deliver them; that he thought to have had
a direction there how to find me, but had the mortification to be told
that they did not so much as know who I was ; that he was under a
great disappointment; and that I ought to know, in answer to all my
resentments, that he had done a long and, he hoped, a sufficient penance
for the slight that I had supposed he had put upon me; that it was true
(and I could not suppose any other) that upon the repulse I had given
them in a case so circumstanced as his was, and after such earnest
entreaties and such offers as he had made me, he went away with a mind
heartily grieved and full of resentment; that he had looked back on the
crime he had committed with some regret, but on the cruelty of my treatment
of the poor infant I went with at that time with the utmost detestation,
and that this made him unable to send an agreeable answer to me; for
which reason he had sent none at all for some time; but that in about
six or seven months, those resentments wearing off by the return of his
affection to me and his concern in the poor child There he stopped,
and indeed tears stood in his eyes ; while in a parenthesis he only added,
and to this minute he did not know whether it was dead or alive. He
then went on: Those resentments wearing off, he sent me several letters
(I think he said seven or eight), but received no answer; that then, his
business obliging him to go to Holland, he came to England, as in his
way, but found, as above, that his letters had not been called for, but that
he left them at the house after paying the postage of them; and, going
then back to France, he was yet uneasy, and could not refrain the knight-
errantry of coming to England again to seek me, though he knew neither
where or of who to inquire for me, being disappointed in all his inquiries
before; that he had yet taken up his residence here, firmly believing that
one time or other he should meet me, or hear of me, and that some kind
chance would at last throw him in my way; that he had lived thus above
four years, and, though his hopes were vanished, yet he had not any
thoughts of removing any more in the world, unless it should be at last,
as it is with other old men, he might have some inclination to go home
to die in his own country, but that he had not thought of it yet ; that if
328 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I would consider all these steps, I would find some reasons to forget his
first resentments, and to think that penance, as he called it, which he had
undergone in search of me, an amende honorable, in reparation of the
affront given to the kindness of my letter of invitation; and that we might
at last make ourselves some satisfaction on both sides for the mor
tifications past.
I confess I could not hear all this without being moved very much, and
yet I continued a little stiff and formal too a good while. I told him that
before I could give him any reply to the rest of his discourse I ought to
give him the satisfaction of telling him that his son was alive, and that
indeed, since I saw him so concerned about it, and mention it with such
affection, I was sorry that I had not found out some way or other to let
him know it sooner; but that I thought, after his slighting the mother, as
above, he had summed up his affection to the child in the letter he had
wrote to me about providing for it; and that he had, as other fathers
often do, looked upon it as a birth which, being out of the way, was to
be forgotten, as its beginning was to be repented ofj that, in providing
sufficiently for it, he had done more than all such fathers used to do, and
might be well satisfied with it.
He answered me that he should have been very glad if I had been so
good but to have given him the satisfaction of knowing the poor unfortunate
creature was yet alive, and he would have taken some care of it upon
himself, and particularly by owning it for a legitimate child, which, where
nobody had known to the contrary, would have taken off the infamy which
would otherwise cleave to it, and so the child should not itself have known
anything of its own disaster; but that he feared it was now too late.
He added that I might see by all his conduct since that, what unhappy
mistake drew him into the thing at first, and that he would have been
very far from doing the injury to me, or being instrumental to add une
miserable (that was his word) to the world, if he had not been drawn
into it by the hopes he had of making me his own; but that, if it was
possible to rescue the child from the consequences of its unhappy birth,
he hoped I would give him leave to do it, and he would let me see that
he had both means and affection still to do it; and that, notwithstanding
all the misfortunes that had befallen him, nothing that belonged to him,
especially by a mother he had such a concern for as he had for me, should
ever want what he was in a condition to do for it.
I could not hear this without being sensibly touched with it. I was
ashamed that he should show that he had more real affection for the
child, though he had never seen it in his life, than I that bore it, for
indeed I did not love the child, nor love to see it ; and though I had
provided for it, yet I did it by Amy's hand, and had not seen it above
twice in four years, being privately resolved that when it grew up it should
not be able to call me mother.
However, I told him the child was taken care of, and that he need not
be anxious about it, unless he suspected that I had less affection for it
than he that had never seen it in his life; that he knew what I had
promised him to do for it, namely, to give it the thousand pistoles which
I had offered him, and which he had declined ; that I assured him I had
made my will, and that I had left it £5000, and the interest of it till he
should come of age, if I died before that time ; that I would still be
as good as that to it; but if he had a mind to take it from me into his
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 329
government, I would not be against it; and, to satisfy him that I would
perform what I said, I would cause the child to be delivered to him, and
the £5000 also for its support, depending upon it that he would show
himself a father to it by what I saw of his affection to it now.
I had observed that he had hinted two or three times in his discourse,
at his having had misfortunes in the world, and I was a little surprised at
the expression, especially at the repeating it so often ; but I took no notice
of that part yet.
He thanked me for my kindness to the child with a tenderness which
showed the sincerity of all he had said before, and which increased the
regret with which, as I said, I looked back on the little affection I had
showed to the poor child. He told me he did not desire to take him
from me, but so as to introduce him into the world as his own, which he
could still do, having lived absent from his other children ( for he had
two sons and a daughter which were brought up at Nimeguen, in Holland,
with a sister of his) so long, that he might very well send another son of
ten years old to be bred up with them, and suppose his mother to be
dead or alive, as he found occasion; and that, as I had resolved to do so
handsomely for the child, he would add to it something considerable,
though, having had some great disappointments (repeating the words), he
could not do for it as he would otherwise have done.
I then thought myself obliged to take notice of his having so often
mentioned his having met with disappointments. I told him I was very
sorry to hear he had met with anything afflicting to him in the world;
that I would not have anything belonging to me add to his loss, or weaken
him in what he might do for his other children; and that I would not
agree to his having the child away, though the proposal was infinitely to
the child's advantage, unless he would promise me that the whole expense
should be mine, and that, if he did not think £5000 enough for the child,
I would give it more.
We had so much discourse upon this and the old affairs that it took
up all our time at his first visit. I was a little importunate with him to
tell me how he came to find me out, but he put it off for that time, and
only obtaining my leave to visit me again, he went away ; and indeed my
heart was so full with what he had said already that I was glad when
he went away. Sometimes I was full of tenderness and affection for him,
and especially when he expressed himself so earnestly and passionately
about the child ; other times I was crowded with doubts about his circum
stances. Sometimes I was terrified with apprehensions lest, if I should
come into a close correspondence with him, he should any way come to
hear what kind of life I had led at Pall Mall and in other places, and it
might make me miserable afterwards; from which last thought I concluded
that I had better repulse him again than receive him. All these thoughts,
and many more, crowded in so fast, I say, upon me, that I wanted to
give vent to them and get rid of him, and was very glad when he was
gone away.
We had several meetings after this, in which still we had so many
preliminaries to go through that we scarce ever bordered upon the main
subject. Once, indeed, he said something of it, and I put it off with a
kind of a jest. 'Alasl' says I, 'those things are out of the question now;
'tis almost two ages since those things were talked between us' says I.
'You see I am grown an old woman since that.' Another time he gave
330 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
a little push at it again, and I laughed again. 'Why, what dost thou talk
of?' said I in a formal way. 'Dost thou not see I am turned Quaker?
I cannot speak of those things now.' 'Why', says he, 'the Quakers marry
as well as other people, and love one another as well. Besides ', says he,
'the Quakers' dress does not ill become you', and so jested with me again,
and so it went off for a third time. However, I began to be kind to him
in process of time, as they call it, and we grew very intimate; and, if the
following accident had not unluckily intervened, I had certainly married
him, or consented to marry him, the very next time he had asked me.
I had long waited for a letter from Amy, who, it seems, was just at
that time gone to Rouen the second time, to make her inquires about him;
and I received a letter from her at this unhappy juncture, which gave me
the following account of my business:
I. That for my gentleman, who I had now, as I may say, in my arms,
she said he had been gone from Paris, as I have hinted, having met with
some great losses and misfortunes; that he had been in Holland on that
very account, whither he had also carried his children; that he was after
that settled for some time at Rouen; that she had been at Rouen, and
found there (by a mere accident), from a Dutch skipper, that he was at
London, had been there above three years ; that he was to be found upon
the Exchange, on the French walk; and that he lodged at St. Laurence
Pountney's Lane, and the like; so Amy said she supposed I might soon
find him out, but that she doubted he was poor, and not worth looking
after. This she did because of the next clause, which the jade had most
mind to on many accounts.
II. That as to the Prince ; that, as above, he was gone into
Germany, where his estate lay; that he had quitted the French service, and
. lived retired; that she had seen his gentleman, who remained at Paris to
solicit his arrears, etc.; that he had given her an account how his lord
had employed him to inquire for me and find me out, as above, and told
her what pains he had taken to find me; that he had understood that I
was gone to England; that he once had orders to go to England to find
me; that his lord had resolved, if he could have found me, to have called
me a countess, and so have married me, and have carried me into Germany
with him ; and that his commission was still to assure me that the prince
would marry me if I would come to him, and that he would send him an
account that he had found me, and did not doubt but he would have orders
to come over to England to attend me in a figure suitable to my quality.
Amy, an ambitious jade, who knew my weakest part — namely, that I
loved great things, and that I loved to be flattered and courted— said
abundance of kind things upon this occasion, which she knew were suitable
to me and would prompt my vanity; and talked big of the prince's
gentleman having orders to come over to me with a procuration to marry
me by proxy (as princes usually do in like cases), and to furnish me with
an equipage, and I know not how many fine things ; but told me, withal,
that she had not yet let him know that she belonged to me still, or that
she knew where to find me, or to write to me; because she was willing
to see the bottom of it, and whether it was a reality or a gasconade.
She had indeed told him that, if he had any such commission, she would
endeavour to find me out, but no more.
III. For the Jew, she assured me that she had not been able to come
at a certainty what was become of him, or in what part of the world he
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 33!
was; but that thus much she had learned from good hands, that he had
committed a crime, in being concerned in a design to rob a rich banker
at Paris ; and that he was fled, and had not been heard of there for above
six years.
IV. For that of my husband, the brewer, she learned, that, being
commanded into the field upon an occasion of some action in Flanders,
he was wounded at the battle of Mons, and died of his wounds in the
Hospital of the Invalids 5 so there was an end of my four inquiries, which
I sent her over to make.
This account of the prince, and the return of his affection to me, with
all flattering great things which seemed to come along with it; and
especially as they came gilded and set out by my maid Amy — I say this
account of the prince came to me in a very unlucky hour, and in the very
crisis of my affair.
The merchant and I had entered into close conferences upon the grand
affair. I had left off talking my platonics, and of my independency, and
being a free woman, as before ; and he, having cleared up my doubts too,
as to his circumstances and the misfortunes he had spoken of, I had gone
so far that we had begun to consider where we should live, and in what
figure, what equipage, what house, and the like.
I had made some harangues upon the delightful retirement of a country
life, and how we might enjoy ourselves so effectually without the encum
brances of business and the world ; but all this was grimace, and purely
because I was afraid to make any public appearance in the world, for fear
some impertinent person of quality should chop upon me again, and cry
out ' Roxana, Roxana, by ! ' with an oath, as had been done before.
My merchant, bred to business and used to converse among men of
business, could hardly tell how to live without it; at least it appeared he
should be like a fish out of water, uneasy and dying. But, however, he
joined with me; only argued that we might live as near London as we
could, that he might sometimes come to 'Change and hear how the world
should go abroad, and how it fared with his friends and his children.
I answered, that if he chose still to embarrass himself with business, I
supposed it would be more to his satisfaction to be in his own country,
and where his family was so well known, and where his children also were.
He smiled at the thoughts of that, and let me know that he should be
very willing to embrace such an offer; but that he could not expect it of
me, to whom England was, to be sure, so naturalised now as that it would
be carrying me out of my native country, which he would not desire by
any means, however agreeable it might be to him.
I told him he was mistaken in me; that as I had told him so much of a
married state being a captivity, and the family being a house of bondage,
that when I married I expected to be but an upper servant; so, if I did
notwithstanding submit to it, I hoped he should see I knew how to act
the servant's part, and do everything to oblige my master; that if I did not
resolve to go with him wherever he desired to go, he might depend I
would never have him. 'And did I not', said I, 'offer myself to go with
you to the East Indies?'
All this while this was indeed but a copy of my countenance; for, as
my circumstances would not admit of my stay in London, at least not so
as to appear publicly, I resolved, if I took him, to live remote in the
country, or go out of England with him.
33 2 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
But, in an evil hour, just now came Amy's letter, in the very middle of
all these discourses; and the fine things she had said about the prince
began to make strange work with me. The notion of being a princess,
and going over to live where all that had happened here would have been
quite sunk out of knowledge as well as out of memory (conscience excepted),
was mighty taking. The thoughts of being surrounded with domestics,
honoured with titles, be called her Highness, and live in all the splendour
of a court, and, which was still more, in the arms of a man of such rank,
and who, I knew, loved and valued me — all this, in a word, dazzled my
eyes, turned my head, and I was as truly crazed and distracted for about
a fortnight as most of the people in Bedlam, though perhaps not quite
so far gone.
When my gentleman came to me the next time I had no notion of him j
I wished I had never received him at all. In short, I resolved to have
no more to say to him, so I feigned myself indisposed ; and, though I did
come down to him and speak to him a little, yet I let him see that I was
so ill that I was (as we say) no company, and that it would be kind in
him to give me leave to quit him for that time.
The next morning he sent a footman to inquire how I did ; and I let
him know I had a violent cold, and was very ill with it. Two days after
he came again, and I let him see me again, but feigned myself so hoarse
that I could not speak to be heard, and, that it was painful to me but
to whisper ; and, in a word, I held him in this suspense near three weeks.
During this time I had a strange elevation upon my mind; and the
prince, or the spirit of him, had such a possession of me that I spent
most of this time in the realising all the great things of a life with the
prince, to my mind pleasing my fancy with the grandeur I was supposing
myself to enjoy, and withal wickedly studying in what manner to put off
this gentleman and be rid of him for ever.
I cannot but say that, sometimes, the baseness of the action stuck hard
with me; the honour and sincerity with which he had always treated me,
and, above all, the fidelity he had showed me at Paris, and that I owed
my life to him — I say, all these stared in my face, and I frequently argued
with myself upon the obligation I was under to him, and how base would
it be now too, after so many obligations and engagements, to cast him off.
But the title of highness, and of a princess, and all those fine things,
as they came in, weighed down all this ; and the sense of gratitude vanished
as if it had been a shadow.
At other times, I considered the wealth I was mistress of; that I was
able to live like a princess, though not a princess ; and that my merchant
(for he had told me all the affair of his misfortunes) was far from being
poor, or even mean; that together we were able to make up an estate of
between three and four thousand pounds a year, which was in itself equal
to some princes abroad. But, though this was true, yet the name of princess,
and the flutter of it — in a word, the pride — weighed them down; and all
these arguings generally ended to the disadvantage of my merchant ; so
that, in short, I resolved to drop him, and give him a final answer at his
next coming; namely, that something had happened in my affairs which
had caused me to alter my measures unexpectedly, and, in a word, to
desire him to trouble himself no farther.
I think, verily, this rude treatment of him was for some time the effect
of a violent fermentation in my blood; for the very motion which the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 333
Steady contemplation of my fancied greatness had put my spirits into had
thrown me into a kind of fever, and I scarce knew what I did.
I have wondered since that it did not make me mad ; nor do I now
think it strange to hear of those who have been quite lunatic with their
pride, that fancied themselves queens and empresses, and have made their
attendants serve them upon the knee, given visitors their hand to kiss,
and the like; for certainly, if pride will not turn the brain, nothing can.
However, the next time my gentleman came, I had not courage enough,
or not ill nature enough, to treat him in the rude manner I had resolved
to do, and it was very well I did not ; for, soon after, I had another letter
from Amy, in which was the mortifying news, and indeed surprising to
me, that my prince (as I, with a secret pleasure, had called him) was
very much hurt by a bruise he had received in hunting and engaging with
a wild boar, a cruel and desperate sport which the noblemen of Germany,
it seems, much delight in.
This alarmed me indeed, and the more because Amy wrote me word that
his gentleman was gone away express to him, not without apprehensions
that he should find his master was dead before his coming home ; bnt that
he (the gentleman) had promised her that as soon as he arrived he would
send back the same courier to her with an account of his master's health,
and of the main affair; and that he had obliged Amy to stay at Paris
fourteen days for his return; she having promised him before to make it
her business to go to England and to find me out for his lord if he sent
her such orders ; and he was to send her a bill for fifty pistoles for her
journey. So Amy told me she waited for the answer.
This was a blow to me several ways; for, first, I was in a state of
uncertainty as to his person, whether he was alive or dead; and I was not
unconcerned in that part, I assure you ; for I had an inexpressible affection
remaining for his person, besides the degree to which it was revived by
the view of a firmer interest in him. But this was not all, for in losing
him I forever lost the prospect of all the gaiety and glory that had made
such an impression upon my imagination.
In this state of uncertainty, I say, by Amy's letter, I was like still to
remain another fortnight; and had I now continued the resolution of using
my merchant in the rude manner I once intended, I had made perhaps a
sorry piece of work of it indeed, and it was very well my heart failed me
as it did.
However, I treated him with a great many shuffles, and feigned stories
to keep him off from any closer conferences than we had already had,
that I might act afterwards as occasion might offer, one way or other.
But that which mortified me most was, that Amy did not write, though
the fourteen days were expired. At last, to my great surprise, when I
was, with the utmost impatience, looking out at the window, expecting the
postman that usually brought the foreign letters — I say I was agreeably
surprised to see a coach come to the yard-gate where we lived, and my
woman Amy alight out of it and come towards the door, having the
coachman bringing several bundles after her.
I flew like lightning downstairs to speak to her, but was soon damped
with her news. 'Is the prince alive or dead, Amy?' says I. She spoke
coldly and slightly. 'He is alive, madam' said she. 'But it is not much
matter; I had as lieu he had been dead.' So we went upstairs again to
my chamber, and there we began a serious discourse of the whole matter.
334 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
First, she told me a long story of his being hurt by a wild boar, and
of the condition he was reduced to, so that every one expected he should
die, the anguish of the wound having thrown him into a fever, with abun
dance of circumstances too long to relate here; how he recovered of that
extreme danger, but continued very weak; how the gentleman had been
honime de parole, and had sent back the courier as punctually as if it had
been to the king; that he had given a long account of his lord, and of
his illness and recovery ; but the sum of the matter, as to me, was, that
as to the lady, his lord was turned penitent, was under some vows for his
recovery, and could not think any more on that affair ; and especially, the
lady being gone, and that it had not been offered to her, so there was no
breach of honour; but that his lord was sensible of the good offices of
Mrs Amy, and had sent her the fifty pistoles for her trouble, as if she had
really gone the journey.
I was, I confess, hardly able to bear the first surprise of this disappoint
ment. Amy saw it, and gapes out (as was her way) 'Lawd, madam,
never be concerned at it; you see he is gotten among the priests, and I
suppose they have saucily imposed some penance upon him, and, it may
be, sent him of an errand barefoot, to some Madonna, or Notredame, or
other ; and he is off of his amours for the present. I'll warrant you he'll
be as wicked again as ever he was when he is got thorough well, and
gets but out of their hands again. I hate this out-o'-season repentance.
What occasion had he, in his repentance, to be off of taking a good wife ?
I should have been glad to see you have been a princess, and all that;
but if it can't be, never afflict yourself; you are rich enough to be a
princess to yourself; you don't want him, that's the best of it.'
Well, I cried for all that, and was heartily vexed, and that a great
while; but, as Amy was always at my elbow, and always jogging it out
of my head with her mirth and her wit, it wore off again.
Then I told Amy all the story of my merchant, and how he had found
me out when I was in such a concern to find him; how it was true that
he lodged in St Laurence Pountney's Lane; and how I had had all the
story of his misfortune, which she had heard of, in which he had lost
above £ 8000 sterling ; and that he had told me frankly of it before she
had sent me any account of it, or at least before I had taken any notice
that I had heard of it.
Amy was very joyful at that part. 'Well, madam, then', says Amy,
•what need you value the story of the prince, and going I know not
whither into Germany, to lay your bones in another world, and learn the
devil's language, called High Dutch? You are better here by half, says
Amy. ' Lawd, madam ! ' says she ; ' why, are you not as rich as Croesus ? '
Well, it was a great while still before I could bring myself off of this
fancied sovereignty; and I, that was so willing once to be mistress to a
king, was now ten thousand times more fond of being wife to a prince.
So fast a hold has pride and ambition upon our minds, that when once
it gets admission, nothing is so chimerical but, under this possession, we
can form ideas of in our fancy, and realize to our imagination. Nothing
can be so ridiculous as the simple steps we take in such cases; a man or
a woman becomes a mere malade imaginaire, and, I believe, may as easily
die with grief, or run mad with joy (as the affair in his fancy appears
right or wrong ) as if all was real, and actually under the management of
the person.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 335
I had indeed two assistants to deliver me from this snare, and these
were, first, Amy, who knew my disease, but was able to do nothing as to
the remedy ; the second, the merchant, who really brought the remedy, but
knew nothing of the distemper.
I remember, when all these disorders were upon my thoughts, in one of
the visits my friend the merchant made me, he took notice that he
perceived I was under some unusual disorder; he believed, he said, that
my distemper, whatever it was, lay much in my head, and it being summer
weather, and very hot, proposed to me to go a little way into the air.
I started at his expression. 'What!' says I; 'do you think, then, that
I am crazed? You should, then, propose a madhouse for my cure.' 'No,
no', says he, 'I do not mean anything like that; I hope the head may be
distempered and not the brain.' Well, I was too sensible that he was
right, for I knew I had acted a strange, wild kind of part with him; but
he insisted upon it, and pressed me to go into the country. I took him
short again. 'What need you', says I, 'send me out of your way? It is
in your power to be less troubled with me, and with less inconvenience
to us both.'
He took that ill, and told me I used to have a better opinion of his
sincerity, and desired to know what he had done to forfeit my charity.
I mention this only to let you see how far I had gone in my measures of
quitting him — that is to say, how near I was of showing him how base,
ungrateful, and how vilely I could act ; but I found I had carried the jest
far enough, and that a little matter might have made him sick of me again,
as he was before; so I began by little and little to change my way of
talking to him, and to come to discourse to the purpose again as we had
done before.
A while after this, when we were very merry and talking familiarly
together, he called me, with an air of particular satisfaction, his princess.
I coloured at the word, for it indeed touched me to the quick; but he
knew nothing of the reason of my being touched with it. 'What d'ye
mean by that?' said I. 'Nay', says he, 'I mean nothing but that you are
a princess to me.' 'Well', says I, 'as to that I am content, and yet I
could tell you I might have been a princess if I would have quitted you,
and believe I could be so still.' 'It is not in my power to make you a
princess', says he, 'but I can easily make you a lady here in England,
and a countess too if you will go out of it.'
I heard both with a great deal of satisfaction, for my pride remained
though it had been balked, and I thought with myself that this proposal
would make me some amends for the loss of the title that had so tickled
my imagination another way, and I was impatient to understand what he
meant, but I would not ask him by any means; so it passed off for that time.
When he was gone I told Amy what he had said, and Amy was as
impatient to know the manner how it could be as I was; but the next
time (perfectly unexpected to me) he told me that he had accidentally
mentioned a thing to me last time he was with me, having not the least
thought of the thing itself; but not knowing but such a thing might be of
some weight to me, and that it might bring me respect among people
where I might appear, he had thought since of it, and was resolved to
ask me about it.
I made light of it, and told him that, as he knew I had chosen a retired
life, it was of no value to me to be called lady or countess either; but
336
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
that if he intended to drag me, as I might call it, into the world again,
perhaps it might be agreeable to him ; but, besides that, I could not judge
of the thing, because I did not understand how either of them was
to be done.
He told me that money purchased titles of honour in almost all parts
of the world, though money could not give principles of honour, they
must come by birth and blood; that, however, titles sometimes assist to
elevate the soul and to infuse generous principles into the mind, and
especially where there was a good foundation laid in the persons ; that he
hoped we should neither of us misbehave if we came to it; and that, as
we knew how to wear a title without undue elevations, so it might sit as
well upon ns as on another; that as to England, he had nothing to do but
to get an act of naturalisation in his favour, and he knew where to
purchase a patent for baronet — that is to say, to have the honour and title
transferred to him; but, if I intended to go abroad with him, he had a
nephew, the son of his eldest brother, who had the title of count, with
the estate annexed, which was but small, and that he had frequently
offered to make it over to him for a thousand pistoles, which was not a
great deal of money, and considering it was in the family already, he
would, upon my being willing, purchase it immediately.
I told him I liked the last best, but then I would not let him buy it
unless he would let me pay the thousand pistoles. 'No, no', says he, 'I
refused a thousand pistoles that I had more right to have accepted than
that, and you shall not be at so much expense now.' 'Yes', says I, 'you
did refuse it, and perhaps repented it afterwards.' 'I never complained',
said he. 'But I did', says I; 'and often repented it for you.' 'I do not
understand you', says he. 'Why', said I, 'I repented that I suffered you
to refuse it.' 'Well, well', said he, 'we may talk of that hereafter, when
you shall resolve which part of the world you will make your settled
residence in.' Here he talked very handsomely to me, and for a good
while together; how it had been his lot to live all his days out of his
native country, and to be often shifting and changing the situation of his
affairs ; and that I myself had not always had a fixed abode, but that now,
as neither of us was very young, he fancied I would be for taking up our
abode, where, if possible, we might remove no more ; that, as to his part,
he was of that opinion entirely, only with this exception, that the choice
of the place should be mine, for that all places in the world were alike
to him, only with this single addition, namely, that I was with him.
I heard him with a great deal of pleasure, as well for his being willing
to give me the choice as for that I resolved to live abroad, for the reason
I have mentioned already, namely, lest I should at any time be known in
England, and all that story of Roxana and the balls should come out; as
also I was not a little tickled with the satisfaction of being still a countess,
though I could not be a princess.
I told Amy all this story, for she was still my privy councillor; but
when I asked her opinion, she made me laugh heartily. 'Now, which of
the two shall I take, Amy?' said I. 'Shall I be a lady— that is, a
baronet's lady in England, or a countess in Holland?' The ready-witted
jade, that knew the pride of my temper too, almost as well as I did
myself, answered (without the least hesitation) 'Both, madam. Which
of them?' says she (repeating the words). 'Why not both of them? and
then you will be really a princess; fur, sure, to be a lady in English and
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 337
a countess in Dutch may make a princess in High Dutch.' Upon the
whole, though Amy was in jest, she put the thought into my head, and I
resolved that, in short, I would be both of them, which I managed as you
shall hear.
First, I seemed to resolve that I would live and settle in England, only
with this condition, namely, that I would not live in London, I pretended
that it would choke me up; that I wanted breath when I was in London,
but that anywhere else I would be satisfied ; and then I asked him whether
any seaport town in England would not suit him ; because I knew, though
he seemed to leave off, he would always love to be among business, and
conversing with men of business; and I named several places, either
nearest for business with France, or with Holland ; as Dover, or Southampton,
for the first; and Ipswich, or Yarmouth, or Hull for the last; but I took
care that we would resolve upon nothing; only by this it seemed to be
certain that we should live in England.
It was time now to bring things to a conclusion, and so in about six
weeks' time more we settled all our preliminaries; and, among the rest,
he let me know that he should have the bill for his naturalisation passed
time enough, so that he would be (as he called it) an Englishman before
we married. That was soon perfected, the Parliament being then sitting,
and several other foreigners joining in the said bill to save the expense.
It was not above three or four days after, but that, without giving me
the least notice that he had so much as been about the patent for baronet,
he brought it me in a fine embroidered bag, and saluting me by the name
of my Lady (joining his own surname to it), presented it to me
with his picture set with diamonds, and at the same time gave me a
breast-jewel worth a thousand pistoles, and the next morning we were
married. Thus I put an end to all the intriguing part of my life — a life
full of prosperous wickedness; the reflections upon which were so much
the more afflicting as the time had been spent in the grossest crimes,
which, the more I looked back upon, the more black and horrid they
appeared, effectually drinking up all the comfort and satisfaction which I
might otherwise have taken in that part of life which was still before me.
The first satisfaction, however, that I took in the new condition I was
in, was in reflecting that at length the life of crime was over, and that I
was like a passenger coming back from the Indies, who, having, after
many years' fatigues and hurry in business, gotten a good estate, with
innumerable difficulties and hazards, is arrived safe at London with all
his effects, and has the pleasure of saying he shall never venture upon the
seas any more.
When we were married, we came back immediately to my lodgings ( for
the church was but just by), and we were so privately married, that none
but Amy and my friend the Quaker was acquainted with it. As soon as
we came into the house he took me in his arms, and kissing me, ' Now
you are my own', says he. 'Oh that you had been so good to have done
this eleven years agol' 'Then', said I, 'you, perhaps, would have been
tired of me long ago; It is much better now, for now all our happy days
are to come. Besides ', said I, ' I should not have been half so rich ' ; but
that I said to myself, for there was no letting him into the reason of it.
'Oh!' says he, 'I should not have been tired of you; but, besides having
the satisfaction of your company, it had saved me that unlucky blow at
Paris, which was a dead loss to me of above eight thousand pistoles, and
22
338 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
all the fatigues of so many years' hurry and business'; and then he added,
'But I'll make you pay for it all, now I have you.' I started a little at
the words. ' Ay ', said I, ' do you threaten already ? Pray what d'ye mean
by that?'; and began to look a little grave.
'I'll tell you', says he, 'very plainly what I mean'; and still he held
me fast in his arms. 'I intend from this time never to trouble myself
with any more business, so I shall never get one shilling for you more
than I have already; all that you will lose one way. Next, I intend not
to trouble myself with any of the care or trouble of managing what either
you have for me or what I have to add to it; but you shall e'en take it
all upon yourself, as the wives do in Holland ; so you will pay for it that
way too, for all the drudgery shall be yours. Thirdly, I intend to condemn
you to the constant bondage of my impertinent company, for I shall tie
you like a pedlar's pack at my back. I shall scarce ever be from you;
for I am sure I can take delight in nothing else in this world.' 'Very
well', says I; 'but I am pretty heavy. I hope you'll set me down some
times when you are aweary.' 'As for that', says he, 'tire me if you can.'
This was all jest and allegory; but it was all true, in the moral of the
fable, as you shall hear in its place. We were very merry the rest of the
day, but without any noise or clutter; for he brought not one of his
acquaintance or friends, either English or foreigner. The honest Quaker
provided us a very noble dinner indeed, considering how few we were to
eat it; and every day that week she did the like, and would at last have
it be all at her own charge, which I was utterly averse to; first, because
I knew her circumstances not to be very great, though not very low; and
next, because she had been so true a friend, and so cheerful a comforter
to me, ay, and counsellor too, in all this affair, that I had resolved to
make her a present that should be some help to her when all was over.
But to return to the circumstances of our wedding. After being very
merry, as I have told you, Amy and the Quaker put us to bed, the honest
Quaker little thinking we had been abed together eleven years before.
Nay, that was a secret which, as it happened, Amy herself did not know.
Amy grinned and made faces, as if she had been pleased; but it came
out in so many words, when he was not by, the sum of her mumbling
and muttering was, that this should have been done ten or a dozen years
before; that it would signify little now; that was to say, in short, that her
mistress was pretty near fifty, and too old to have any children. I chid
her; the Quaker laughed, complimented me upon my not being so old as
Amy pretended, that I could not be above forty, and might have a house
full of children yet. But Amy, and I too, knew better than she how it was,
for, in short, I was old enough to have done breeding, however I looked }
but I made her hold her tongue.
In the morning, my Quaker landlady came and visited us before we were
up, and made us eat cakes and drink chocolate in bed; and then left us
again, and bid us take a nap upon it, which I believe we did. In short,
she treated us so handsomely, and with such an agreeable cheerfulness,
as well as plenty, as made it appear to me that Quakers may, and that
this Quaker did, understand good manners as well as any other people.
I resisted her offer, however, of treating us for the whole week; and I
opposed it so long, that I saw evidently that she took it ill, and would
have thought herself slighted if we had not accepted it. So I said no
more, but let her go on, only told her I would be even with her; and so
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 339
I was. However, for that week she treated us as she said she would, and
did it so very fine, and with such a profusion of all sorts of good things,
that the greatest burthen to her was how to dispose of things that were
left ; for she never let anything, how dainty or however large, be so much
as seen twice among us.
I had some servants indeed, which helped her off a little; that is to
say, two maids, for Amy was now a woman of business, not a servant,
and ate always with us. I had also a coachman and a boy. My Quaker
had a man-servant too, but had but one maid ; but she borrowed two more
of some of her friends for the occasion, and had a man-cook for dressing
the victuals.
She was only at a loss for plate, which she gave me a whisper of; and
I made Amy fetch a large strong-box, which I had lodged in a safe hand,
in which was all the fine plate which I had provided on a worse occa
sion, as is mentioned before ; and I put it into the Quaker's hand, obliging
her not to use it as mine, but as her own, for a reason I shall mention
presently.
I was now my Lady , and I must own I was exceedingly pleased
with it; 'twas so big and so great to hear myself called 'her ladyship',
and 'your ladyship', and the like, that I was like the Indian king at
Virginia, who, having a house built for him by the English, and a lock
put upon the door, would sit whole days together with the key in his
hand, locking and unlocking, and double-locking, the door, with an unac
countable pleasure at the novelty; so I could have sat a whole day together
to hear Amy talk to me, and call me 'your ladyship' a every word; but
after a while the novelty wore off and the pride of it abated, till at last
truly I wanted the other title as much as I did that of ladyship before.
We lived this week in all the innocent mirth imaginable, and our good-
humoured Quaker was so pleasant in her way that it was particularly
entertaining to us. We had no music at all, or dancing; only I now and
then sung a French song to divert my spouse, who desired it, and the
privacy of our mirth greatly added to the pleasure of it. I did not make
many clothes for my wedding, having always a great many rich clothes
by me, which, with a little altering for the fashion, were perfectly new.
The next day he pressed me to dress, though we had no company. At
last, jesting with him, I told him I believed I was able to dress me so,
in one kind of dress that I had by me, that he would not know his wife
when he saw her, especially if anybody else was by. No, he said, that
was impossible, and he longed to see that dress. I told him I would dress
me in it, if he would promise me never to desire me to appear in it before
company. He promised he would not, but wanted to know why too; as
husbands, you know, are inquisitive creatures, and love to inquire after
anything they think is kept from them; but I had an answer ready for
him. 'Because', said I, 'it is not a decent dress in this country, and
would not look modest.' Neither, indeed, would it, for it was but one
degree off from appearing in one's shift, but was the usual wear in the
country where they were used. He was satisfied with my answer, and
gave me his promise never to ask me to be seen in it before company.
I then withdrew, taking only Amy and the Quaker with me; and Amy
dressed me in my old Turkish habit, which I danced in formerly, etc., as
before. The Quaker was charmed with the dress, and merrily said that,
if such a dress should come to be worn here, she should not know
340 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
what to do 5 she should be tempted not to dress in the Quaker's way
any more.
When all the dress was put on, I loaded it with jewels, and in particular
I placed the large breast] ewel which he had given me of a thousand
pistoles upon the front of the tyhaia, or head-dress, where it made a most
glorious show indeed. I had my own diamond necklace on, and my hair
was tout brilliant, all glittering with jewels.
His picture set with diamonds I had placed stitched to my vest, just,
as might be supposed, upon my heart (which is the compliment in such
cases among the Eastern people); and all being open at the breast, there
was no room for anything of a jewel there. In this figure, Amy holding
the train of my robe, I came down to him. He was surprised, and per
fectly astonished. He knew me, to be sure, because I had prepared him,
and because there was nobody else there but the Quaker and Amy ; but
he by no means knew Amy, for she had dressed herself in the habit of
a Turkish slave, being the garb of my little Turk which I had at Naples,
as I have said; she had her neck and arms bare, was bareheaded, and her
hair braided in a long tassel hanging down her back; but the jade could
neither hold her countenance or her chattering tongue, so as to be
concealed long.
Well, he was so charmed with this dress that he would have me sit
and dine in it; but it was so thin, and so open before, and the weather
being also sharp, that I was afraid of taking old ; however, the fire being
enlarged and the doors kept shut, I sat to oblige him, and he professed
he never saw so fine a dress in his life. I afterwards told him that my
husband (so he called the jeweller that was killed) bought it for me at
Leghorn, with a young Turkish slave which I parted with at Paris; and
that it was by the help of that slave that I learned how to dress in it,
and how everything was to be worn, and many of the Turkish customs
also, with some of their language. This story agreeing with the fact, only
changing the person, was very natural, and so it went off with him; but
there was good reason why I should not receive any company in this
dress— that is to say, not in England. I need not repeat it; you will hear
more of it.
But when I came abroad I frequently put it on, and upon two or three
occasions danced in it, but always at his request.
We . continued at the Quaker's lodgings for above a year ; for now,
making as though it was difficult to determine where to settle in England
to his satisfaction, unless in London, which was not to mine, I pretended
to make him an offer, that, to oblige him, I began to incline to go and
live abroad with him ; that I knew nothing could be more agreeable to
him, and that as to me, every place was alike; that, as I had lived abroad
without a husband so many years, it could be no burthen to me to live
abroad again, especially with him. Then we fell to straining our courtesies
upon one another. He told me he was perfectly easy at living in England,
and had squared all his affairs accordingly; for that, as he had told me
he intended to give over all business in the world, as well the care of
managing it as the concern about it, seeing we were both in condition
neither to want it or to have it be worth our while, so I might see it was
his intention, by his getting himself naturalised, and getting the patent of
baronet, etc. Well, for all that, I told him I accepted his compliment,
but I could not but know that his native country, where his children were
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 34!
breeding up, must be most agreeable to him, and that, if I was of such
value to him, I would be there then, to enhance the rate of his satisfaction :
that wherever he was would be a home to me, and any place in the world
would be England to me if he was with me; and thus, in short, I brought
him to give me leave to oblige him with going to live abroad, when, in
truth, I could not have been perfectly easy at living in England, unless I
had kept constantly within doors, lest some time or other the dissolute
life I had lived here should have come to be known, and all those wicked
things have been known too, which I now began to be very much
ashamed of.
When we closed up our wedding week, in which our Quaker had been
so very handsome to us, I told him how much I thought we were obliged
to her for her generous carriage to us; how she had acted the kindest
part through the whole, and how faithful a friend she had been to me
upon all occasions; and then, letting him know a little of her family
unhappiness, I proposed that I thought I not only ought to be grate
ful to her, but really to do something extraordinary for her, towards
making her in her affairs. And I added, that I had no hanger-on
that should trouble him ; that there was nobody belonged to me but what
was thoroughly provided for, and that, if I did something for this honest
woman that was considerable, it should be the last gift I would give to
anybody in the world but Amy ; and as for her, we were not a-going to
turn her adrift, but whenever anything offered for her, we would do as we
saw cause; that, in the meantime, Amy was not poor, that she had saved
together between seven and eight hundred pounds. By the way, I did not
tell him how, and by what wicked ways she got it, but that she had it;
and that was enough to let him know she would never be in want of us.
My spouse was exceedingly pleased with my discourse about the Quaker,
made a kind of a speech to me upon the subject of gratitude, told me it
was one of the brightest parts of a gentlewoman, that it was so twisted
with honesty, nay, and even with religion too, that he questioned whether
either of them could be found where gratitude was not to be found; that
in this act there was not only gratitude, but charity; and that, to make
the charity still more Christian-like, the object too had real merit to attract
it; he therefore agreed to the thing with all his heart, only would have
had me let him pay it out of his effects.
I told him, as for that, I did not design, whatever I had said formerly,
that we should have two pockets; and that, though I had talked to him
of being a free woman, and an independent, and the like, and he had
offered and promised that I should keep all my own estate in my own
hands; yet, that since I had taken him, I would e'en do as other honest
wives did — where I thought fit to give myself, I should give what I had
too ; that if I reserved anything, it should be only in case of mortality, and
that I might give it to his children afterwards, as my own gift; and that,
in short, if he thought fit to join stocks, we would see to-morrow morning
what strength we could both make up in the world, and, bringing it all
together, consider, before we resolved upon the place of removing, how
we should dispose of what we had, as well as of ourselves. This discourse
was too obliging, and he too much of a man of sense not to receive it
as it was meant. He only answered, we would do in that as we should
both agree ; but the thing under our present care was to show, not gratitude
only, but charity and affection too, to our kind friend the Quaker; and
342 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
the first word he spoke of was to settle a thousand pounds tfpon her for'
her life (that is to say, sixty pounds a year), but in such a manner as not
to be in the power of any person to reach but herself. This was a great
thing, and indeed showed the generous principles of my husband, and for
that reason I mention it; but I thought that a little too much too, aud
particularly because I had another thing in view for her about the plate;
so I told him I thought, if he gave her a purse with a hundred guineas
as a present first, and then made her a compliment of £40 per annum
for her life, secured any such way as she should desire, it would be
very handsome.
He agreed to that; and the same day, in the evening, when we were
just going to bed, he took my Quaker by the hand, and, with a kiss, told
her that we had been very kindly treated by her from the beginning of
this affair, and his wife before, as she (meaning me) had informed him ;
and that he thought himself bound to let her see that she had obliged
friends who knew how to be grateful; that for his part of the obligation
he desired she would accept of that, for an acknowledgment in part only
(putting the gold into her hand), and that his wife would talk with her
about what farther he had to say to her; and upon that, not giving
her time hardly to say, 'Thank ye,' away he went upstairs into our bed
chamber, leaving her confused and not knowing what to say.
When he was gone she began to make very handsome and obliging
representations of her goodwill to us both, but that it was without expect
ation of reward ; that I had given her several valuable presents before —
and so, indeed, I had ; for, besides the piece of linen which I had given
her at first, I had given her a suit of damask table-linen of the linen I
bought for my balls, viz. three table-cloths and three dozen of napkins;
and at another time I gave her a little necklace of gold beads, and the
like; but that is by the way. But she mentioned them, I say, and how
she was obliged by me on many other occasions; that she was not in
condition to show her gratitude any other way, not being able to make a
suitable return; and that now we took from her all opportunity to balance
my former friendship, and left her more in debt than she was before.
She spoke this in a very good kind of manner, in her own way, but which
was very agreeable indeed, and had as much apparent sincerity, and I
verily believe as real as was possible to be expressed; but I put a stop
to it, and bade her say no more, but accept of what my spouse had given
her, which was but in part, as she had heard him say. ' And put it up ',
says I, ' and come and sit down here, and give me leave to say something
else to you on the same head, which my spouse and I have settled be
tween ourselves in your behalf.' 'What dost thee mean?' says she, and
blushed, and looked surprised, but did not stir. She was going to speak
again, but I interrupted her, and told her she should make no more
apologies of any kind whatever, for I had better things than all this to
talk to her of; so I went on, and told her, that, as she had been so friendly
and kind to us on every occasion, and that her house was the lucky place
where we came together, and that she knew I was, from her own mouth,
acquainted in part with her circumstances, we were resolved she should
be the better for us as long as she lived. Then I told what we had
resolved to do for her, and that she had nothing more to do but to con
sult with me how it should be effectually secured for her, distinct from
any of the effects which were her husband's ; and that, if her husband did
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 343
80 supply her that she could live comfortably, and not want it for bread
or other necessaries, she should not make use of it, but lay up the income
of it, and add it every year to the principal, so to increase the annual
payment, which in time, and perhaps before she might come to want it,
might double itself; that we were very willing whatever she should so lay
up should be to herself, and whoever she thonght fit after her; but that
the forty pounds a year must return to our family after her life, which we
both wished might be long and happy.
Let no reader wonder at my extraordinary concern for this poor woman,
or at my giving my bounty to her a place in this account. It is not, I
assure you, to make a pageantry of my charity, or to value myself upon
the greatness of my soul, that should give in so profuse a manner as this,
which was above my figure, if my wealth had been twice as much as it
was; but there was another spring from whence all flowed, and 'tis on
that account I speak of it. Was it possible I could think of a poor
desolate woman with four children, and her husband gone from her, and
perhaps good for little if he had stayed — I say, was I, that had tasted so
deep of the sorrows of such a kind of widowhood, able to look on her,
and think of her circumstances, and not be touched in an uncommon
manner? No, no; I never looked on her and her family, though she was
not left so helpless and friendless as I had been, without remenbering my
own condition, when Amy was sent out to pawn or sell my pair of stays
to buy a breast of mutton and a bunch of turnips; nor could I look on
her poor children, though not poor and perishing, like mine, without
tears ; reflecting on the dreadful condition that mine were reduced to, when
poor Amy sent them all into their aunt's in Spitalfields, and run away
from them. These were the original springs, or fountain-head, from whence
my affectionate thoughts were moved to assist this poor woman.
When a poor debtor, having lain long in the Compter, or Ludgate, or
the King's Bench for debt, afterwards gets out, rises again in the world,
and grows rich, such a one is a certain benefactor to the prisoners there,
and perhaps to every prison he passes by as long as he lives, for he
remembers the dark days of his own sorrow; and even those who never
had the experience of such sorrows to stir up their minds to acts of
charity would have the same charitable, good disposition did they as
sensibly remember what it is that distinguishes them from others by a
more favourable and merciful Providence.
This, I say, was, however, the spring of my concern for this honest,
friendly, and grateful Quaker; and as I had so plentiful a fortune in the
world, I resolved she should taste the fruit of her kind usage to me in
a manner that she could not expect.
All the while I talked to her, T saw the disorder of her mind; the sudden
joy was too much for her, and she coloured, trembled, changed, and at
last grew pale, and was, indeed, near fainting, when she hastily rung a
little bell for her maid, who, coming in immediately, she beckoned to her —
for speak she could not — to fill her a glass of wine; but she had no
breath to take it in, and was almost choked with that which she took in
her mouth. I saw she was ill, and assisted her what I could, and with
spirits and things to smell to just kept her from fainting, when she
beckoned to her maid to withdraw, and immediately burst out in crying,
and that relieved her. When she recovered herself a little, she flew to me,
and, throwing her arms about my neck, 'Oh I' says she, 'thou hast almost
344 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
killed me'; and there she hung, laying her head in my neck for half a
quarter of an hour, not able to speak, but sobbing like a child that had
been whipped.
I was very sorry that I did not stop a little in the middle of my dis
course, and make her drink a glass of wine before it had put her spirits
into such a violent motion; but it was too late, and it was ten to one
odds but that it had killed her.
But she came to herself at last, and began to say some very good things
in return for my kindness. I would not let her go on, but told her I had
more to say to her still than all this, but that I would let it alone till
another time. My meaning was about the box of plate, good part of
which I gave her, and some I gave to Amy; for I had so much plate, and
some so large, that I thought, if I let my husband see it, he might be apt
to wonder what occasion I could ever have for so much, and for plate of
such a kind too; as particularly a great cistern for bottles; which cost a
hundred and twenty pounds, and some large candlesticks too big for any
ordinary use. These I caused Amy to sell ; in short, Amy sold above
three hundred pounds' worth of plate ; what I gave the Quaker was worth
above sixty pounds, and I gave Amy above thirty pounds' worth, and yet
I had a great deal left for my husband,
Nor did our kindness to the Quaker end with the forty pounds a year,
for we were always, while we stayed with her, which was above ten
months, giving her one good thing or another; and, in a word, instead of
lodging with her, she boarded with us, for I kept the house, and she and
all her family ate and drank with us, and yet we paid her the rent of the
house too ; in short, I remembered my widowhood, and I made this widow's
heart glad many a day the more upon that account.
And now my spouse and I began to think of going over to Holland,
where I had proposed to him to live, and in order to settle all the prelim
inaries of our future manner of living, I began to draw in my effects,
so as to have them all at command upon whatever occasion we thought
fit; after which, one morning, I called my spouse up to me: 'Hark ye,
sir', said 1 to him, 'I have two very weighty questions to ask of you. I
don't know what answer you will give to the first, but I doubt you will
be able to give but a sorry answer to the other, and yet, I assure you, it
is of the last importance to yourself, and towards the future part of your
life, wherever it is to be.'
He did not seem to be much alarmed, because he could see I was
speaking in a kind of merry way. 'Let's hear your questions, my dear',
says he, 'and I'll give the best answer I can to them.' 'Why, first
says I :
•I. You have married a wife here, made her a lady, and put her in
expectation of being something else still when she comes abroad. Pray
have you examined whether you are able to supply all her extravagant
demands when she comes abroad, and maintain an expensive English
woman in all her pride and vanity? In short, have you inquired whether
you are able to keep her?
•II. You have married a wife here, and given her a great many fine
things, and you maintain her like a princess, and sometimes call her so.
Pray what portion have you had with her? what fortune has she been to
you? and where does her estate lie, that you keep her so fine? I am
afraid that you keep her in a figure a great deal above her estate, at least
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 345
above all that you have seen of it yet. Are you sure you ha'n't got a bite,
and that you have not made a beggar a lady?'
'Well', says he, 'have you any more questions to ask? Let's have
them all together; perhaps they may be all answered in a few words, as
well as these two.' ' No ', says I ; ' these are the two grand questions — at
least for the present.' 'Why, then', says he, 'I'll answer you in a few
words j that I am fully master of my own circumstances, and, without
farther inquiry, can let my wife you speak of know, that, as I have made
her a lady, I can maintain her as a lady, wherever she goes with me ; and
this whether I have one pistole of her portion, or whether she has any
portion or no; and, as I have not inquired whether she has any portion or
not, so she shall not have the less respect showed her from me, or be
obliged to live meaner, or be anyways straitened on that account; on the
contrary, if she goes abroad to live with me in my own country, I will
make her more than a lady, and support the expense of it too, without
meddling with anything she has; and this, I suppose', says he, 'contains
an answer to both your questions together.'
He spoke this with a great deal more earnestness in his countenance
than I had when I proposed my questions, and said a great many kind
things upon it, as the consequence of former discourses, so that I was
obliged to be in earnest too. 'My dear', says I, 'I was but in jest in my
questions; but they were proposed to introduce what I am going to say
to you in earnest; namely, that if I am to go abroad, 'tis time I should
let you know how things stand, and what I have to bring you with your
wife; how it is to be disposed and secured, and the like; and therefore
come ', says I, ' sit down, and let me show you your bargain here ; I hope
you will find that you have not got a wife without a fortune.'
He told me then, that, since he found I was in earnest, he desired that
I would adjourn it till to-morrow, and then we would do as the poor
people do after they marry, feel in their pockets, and see how much money
they can bring together in the world. ' Well ', says I, ' with all my heart ' ;
and so we ended our talk for that time.
As this was in the morning, my spouse went out after dinner to his
goldsmith's, as he said, and about three hours after returns with a porter
and two large boxes with him; and his servant brought another box,
which, I observed, was almost as heavy as the two that the porter brought,
and made the poor fellow sweat heartily ; he dismissed the porter, and in
a little while after went out again with his man, and returning at night,
brought another porter with more boxes and bundles, and all was carried
up, and put into a chamber, next to our bedchamber; and in the morning
he called for a pretty large round table, and began to unpack.
When the boxes were opened, I found they were chiefly full of books,
and papers, and parchments, I mean books of accounts, and writings, and
such things as were in themselves of no moment to me, because I under
stood them not; but I perceived he took them all out, and spread them
about him upon the table and chairs, and began to be very busy with
them ; so I withdrew and left him ; and he was indeed so busy among them,
that he never missed me till I had been gone a good while; but, when
he had gone through all his papers, and come to open a little box, he
called for me again. 'Now', says he, and called me his countess, 'I am
ready to answer your first question 5 if you will sit down till I have opened
this box, we will see how it stands.'
346 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
So we opened the box; there was in it indeed what I did not expect,
for I thought he had sunk his estate rather than raised it; but he produced
me in goldsmiths' bills, and stock in the English East India Company,
about sixteen thousand pounds sterling; then he gave into my hands nine
assignments upon the Bank of Lyons in France, and two upon the rents
of the town-house in Paris, amounting in the whole to 5800 crowns per
annum, or annual rent, as it is called there; and lastly, the sum of 30,000
rixdollars in the Bank of Amsterdam; besides some jewels and gold in
the box to the value of about £1500 or £1600, among which was a very
good necklace of pearl of about £200 value; and that he pulled out and
tied about my neck, telling me that should not be reckoned into the account.
I was equally pleased and surprised, and it was with an inexpressible
joy that I saw him so rich.
'You might well tell me', said I, 'that you were able to make me
countess, and maintain me as such.' In short, he was immensely rich;
for, besides all this, he showed me, which was the reason of his being so
busy among the books, I say, he showed me several adventures he had
abroad in the business of his merchandise ; as particularly an eighth share
in an East India ship then abroad; an account-courant with a merchant
at Cadiz in Spain; about £3000 lent upon bottomry, upon ships gone to
the Indies; and a large cargo of goods in a merchant's hands for sale at
Lisbon in Portugal; so that in his books there was about £12,000 more;
all which put together, made about £27,000 sterling, and £1320 a year.
I stood amazed at this account, as well I might, and said nothing to
him for a good while, and the rather because I saw him still busy looking
over his books. After a while, as I was going to express my wonder,
'Hold, my dear', says he, 'this it not all neither'; then he pulled me out
some old seals, and small parchment rolls, which I did not understand;
but he told me they were a right of reversion which he had to a paternal
estate in his family, and a mortgage of 14,000 rixdollars, which he had
upon it, in the hands of the present possessor; so that was about
£3000 more.
•But now, hold again', says he, 'for I must pay my debts out of all
this, and they are very great, I assure you'; and the first he said was a
black article of 8000 pistoles, which he had a lawsuit about at Paris, but
had it awarded against him, which was the loss he had told me of, and
which made him leave Paris in disgust; that in other accounts he owed
about £5300 sterling; but after all this, upon the whole, he had still
£17,000 clear stock in money and £1320 a year in rent.
After some pause, it came to my turn to speak. ' Well ', says I, ' 'tis
very hard a gentleman with such a fortune as this should come over to
England, and marry a wife with nothing; it shall never', says I, 'be said
but what I have, I'll bring into the public stock ' ; so I began to produce.
First, I pulled out the mortgage which good Sir Robert had procured
for me, the annual rent £700 per annum; the principal money £14,000.
Secondly, I pulled out another mortgage upon land, procured by the
same faithful friend, which at three times had advanced £12,000.
Thirdly, I pulled him out a parcel of little securities, procured by several
hands, by fee-farm rents, and such petty mortgages as those times afforded,
amounting to £ 10,800 principal money, and paying six hundred and
thirty-six pounds a-year. So that in the whole there was two thousand
and fifty-six pounds a year ready money constantly coming in.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 347
When I had shown him all these, I laid them upon the table, and
bade him take them, that he might be able to give me an answer to the
second question. What fortune he had with his wife? and laughed a
little at it.
He looked at them awhile, and then handed them all back again to
me: 'I will not touch them', says he, 'nor one of them, till they are
settled in trustees' hands for your own use, and the management wholly
your own.'
I cannot omit what happened to me while all this was acting; though
it was cheerful work in the main, yet I trembled every joint of me, worse
for aught I know than ever Belshazzar did at the handwriting on the wall,
and the occasion was every way as just. 'Unhappy wretch', said I to myself,
'shall my ill-got wealth, the product of prosperous lust, and of a vile and
vicious life of whoredom and adultery, be intermingled with the honest
well-gotten estate of this innocent gentleman, to be a moth and a cater
pillar among it, and bring the judgments of heaven upon him, and upon
what he has, for my sake ? Shall my wickedness blast his comforts ?
Shall I be fire in his flax, and be a means to provoke heaven to curse
his blessing? God forbid! I'll keep them asunder if it be possible.'
This is the true reason why I have been so particular in the account
of my vast acquired stock; and how his estate, which was perhaps the
product of many years' fortunate industry, and which was equal if not
superior to mine at best, was, at my request, kept apart from mine, as is
mentioned above.
I have told you how he gave back all my writings into my own hands
again. ' Well ', says I, ' seeing you will have it be kept apart, it shall be
so, upon one condition, which I have to propose, and no other.' 'And
what is the condition?' says he. 'Why', says I, 'all the pretence I can
have for the making over my own estate to me is, that in case of your
mortality, I may have it reserved for me, if I outlive you.' 'Well', says
he, 'that is true.' 'But then', said I, 'the annual income is always
received by the husband, during his life, as 'tis supposed, for the mutual
subsistence of the family; now', says I, 'here is £2000 a year, which I
believe is as much as we shall spend, and I desire none of it may be
saved; and all the income of your own estate, the interest of the £17,000
and the £1320 a year, may be constantly laid by for the increase of your
estate; and so', added I, 'by joining the interest every year to the capital
you will perhaps grow as rich as you would do if you were to trade with
it all, if you were obliged to keep house out of it too.'
He liked the proposal very well , and said it should be so ; and this way
I, in some measure, satisfied myself that I should not bring my husband
under the blast of a just Providence, for mingling my cursed ill-gotten
wealth with his honest estate. This was occasioned by the reflections
which, at some certain intervals of time, came into my thoughts of the
justice of heaven, which I had reason to expect would some time or other
still fall upon me or my effects, for the dreadful life I had lived.
And let nobody conclude from the strange success I met with in all my
wicked doings, and the vast estate which I had raised by it, that therefore
I either was happy or easy. No, no, there was a dart struck into the
liver; there was a secret hell within, even all the while, when our joy was
at the highest; but more especially now, after it was all over, and when,
according to all appearance, I was one of the happiest women upon earth ;
348
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
all this while, I say, I had such constant terror upon my mind, as gave
me every now and then very terrible shocks, and which made me expect
something very frightful upon every accident of life.
In a word, it never lightened or thundered, but I expected the next
flash would penetrate my vitals, and melt the sword (soul) in this scabbard
of flesh ; it never blew a storm of wind, but I expected the fall of some
stack of chimneys, or some part of the house, would bury me in its ruins j
and so of other things.
But I shall perhaps have occasion to speak of all these things again
by-and-by; the case before us was in a manner settled; we had full four
thousand pounds per annum for our future subsistence, besides a vast sum
in jewels and plate; and, besides this, I had about eight thousand pounds
reserved in money which I kept back from him, to provide for my two
daughters, of whom I have much yet to say.
With this estate, settled as you have heard, and with the best husband
in the world, I left England again; I had not only, in human prudence,
and by the nature of the thing, being now married and sertled in so
glorious a manner — I say, I had not only abandoned all the gay and
wicked course which I had gone through before, but I began to look back
upon it with that horror and that detestation which is the certain companion,
if not the forerunner, of repentance.
Sometimes, the wonders of my present circumstances would work upon
me, and I should have some raptures upon my soul, upon the subject of
my coming so smoothly out of the arms of hell, that I was not ingulfed
in ruin, as most who lead such lives are, first or last; but this was a
flight too high for me; I was not come to that repentance that is raised
from a sense of Heaven's goodness ; I repented of the crime, but it was
of another and lower kind of repentance, and rather moved by my fears
of vengeance, than from a sense of being spared from being punished,
and landed safe after a storm.
The first thing which happened after our coming to the Hague (where
we lodged for a while) was, that my spouse saluted me one morning with
the title of countess, as he said he intended to do, by having the inheritance
to which the honour was annexed made over to him. It is true, it was a
reversion, but it soon fell, and in the meantime, as all the brothers of a
count are called counts, so I had the title by courtesy, about three years
before I had it in reality.
I was ageeably surprised at this coming so soon, and would have had
my spouse have taken the money which it cost him out of my stock, but
he laughed at me, and went on.
I was now in the height of my glory and prosperity, and I was called
the Countess de ; for I had obtained that unlocked for, which I
secretly aimed at, and was really the main reason of my coming abroad.
I took now more servants, lived in a kind of magnificence that I had not
been acquainted with, was called 'your honour' at every word, and had a
coronet behind my coach; though at the same time I knew little or nothing
of my new pedigree.
The first thing that my spouse took upon him to manage, was to declare
ourselves married eleven years before our arriving in Holland; and conse
quently to acknowledge our little son, who was yet in England, to be
legitimate; order him to be brought over, and added to his family, and
acknowledge him to be our own.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 349
Th!s was done by giving notice to his people at Nimeguen, where his
children (which were two sons and a daughter) were brought up, that he
was come over from England, and that he was arrived at the Hague with
his wife, and should reside there some time, and that he would have his
two sons brought down to see him; which accordingly was done, and
where I entertained them with all the kindness and tenderness that they
could expect from their mother-in-law ; and who pretended to be so ever
since they were two or three years old.
This supposing us to have been so long married was not difficult at all,
in a country where we had been seen together about that time, viz. eleven
years and a half before, and where we had never been seen afterwards
till we now returned together: this being seen together was also openly
owned and acknowledged, of course, by our friend the merchant at Rot
terdam, and also by the people in the house where we both lodged in the
same city, and where our first intimacies began, and who, as it happened,
were all alive; and therefore, to make it the more public, we made a tour
to Rotterdam again, lodged in the same house, and was visited there by
our friend the merchant, and afterwards invited frequently to his house,
where he treated us very handsomely.
This conduct of my spouse, and which he managed very cleverly, was
indeed a testimony of a wonderful degree of honesty and affection to our
little son ; for it was done purely for the sake of the child.
I call it an honest affection, because it was from a principle of honesty
that he so earnestly concerned himself to prevent the scandal which would
otherwise have fallen upon the child, who was itself innocent; and as it
was from this principle of justice that he so earnestly solicited me, and
conjured me by the natural affections of a mother, to marry him when it
was yet young within me and unborn, that the child might not suffer for
the sin of its father and mother; so, though at the same time he really
loved me very well, yet I had reason to believe that it was from this
principle of justice to the child that he came to England again to seek me
with design to marry me, and, as he called it, save the innocent lamb
from infamy worse than death.
It was with a just reproach to myself that I must repeat it again, that
I had not the same concern for it, though it was the child of my own
body ; nor had L ever the hearty, affectionate love to the child that he had.
What the reason of it was I cannot tell; and, indeed, I had shown a
general neglect of the child through all the gay years of my London
revels, except that I sent Amy to look upon it now then, and to pay for
its nursing; as for me, I scarce saw it four times in the first four years
of its life, and often wished it would go quietly out of the world; whereas
a son which I had by the jeweller, I took a different care of, and showed
a different concern for, though I did not let him know me; for I provided
very well for him, had him put out very well to school, and, when he
came to years fit for it, let him go over with a person of honesty and
good business to the Indies; and after he had lived there some time, and
began to act for himself, sent him over the value of £2000, at several
Hmes, with which he traded and grew rich ; and, as 'tis to be hoped, may
at last come over again with forty of fifty thousand pounds in his pocket,
as many do who have not such encouragement at their beginning.
I also sent him over a wife, a beautiful young lady, well-bred, an ex
ceeding good-natured, pleasant creature ; but the nice young fellow did not
350 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
like her, and had the impudence to write to me, that Is, to the person I
employed to correspond with him, to send him another, and promised that
he would marry her I had sent him, to a friend of his, who liked her
better than he did; but I took it so ill, that I would not send him
another, and withal, stopped another article of £, 1000 which I had ap
pointed to send him. He considered of it afterwards, and offered to take
her ; but then truly she took so ill the first affront he put upon her, that
she would not have him, and I sent him word I thought she was very
much in the right. However, after courting her two years, and some
friends interposing, she took him, and made him an excellent wife,
as I knew she would, but I never sent him the thousand pounds cargo,
so that he lost that money for misusing me, and took the lady at last
without it.
My new spouse and I lived a very regular, contemplative life; and, in
itself, certainly a life filled with all human felicity. But, if I looked upon
my present situation with satisfaction, as I certainly did, so, in proportion,
I on all occasions looked back on former things with detestation, and with
the utmost affliction; and now, indeed, and not till now, those reflections
began to prey upon my comforts, and lessen the sweets of my other
enjoyments. They might be said to have gnawed a hole in my heart be
fore; but now they made a hole quite through it: now they ate into all
my pleasant things, made bitter every sweet, and mixed my sighs with
every smile.
Not all the affluence of a plentiful fortune; not a hundred thousand
pounds estate (for, between us, we had little less); not honour and titles,
attendants and equipages; in a word, not all the things we call pleasure
could give me any relish, or sv ?eten the taste of things to me; at least,
not so much but I grew sad, heavy, pensive, and melancholy; slept little,
and ate little ; dreamed continually of the most frightful and terrible things
imaginable: nothing but apparitions of devils and monsters, falling into
gulfs, and off from steep and high precipices, and the like ; so that in the
morning, when I should rise, and be refreshed with the blessing of rest,
I was hag-ridden with frights and terrible things formed merely in the
imagination, and was either tired and wanted sleep, or overrun with
vapours, and not fit for conversing with my family, or any one else.
My husband, the tenderest creature in the world, and particularly so to
me, was in great concern for me, and did everything that lay in his power
to comfort and restore me; strove to reason me out of it; then tried all
the ways possible to divert me: but it was all to no purpose, or to but
very little.
My only relief was sometimes to unbosom myself to poor Amy, when
she and I was alone; and she did all she could to comfort me. But all
was to little effect there ; for, though Amy was the better penitent before,
when we had been in the storm, Amy was just where she used to be now,
a wild, gay, loose wretch, and not much the graver for her age; for Amy
was between forty and fifty by this time too.
But to go on with my own story. As I had no comforter, so I had no
counsellor ; it was well, as I often thought, that I was not a Roman
Catholic; for what a piece of work should I have made, to have gone to
a priest with such a history as I had to tell him ; and what penance would
any father confessor have obliged me to perform, especially if he had been
honest, and true to his office 1
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 351
However, as I had none of the recourse, so I had none of the absolution,
by which the criminal confessing goes away comforted; but I went about
with a heart loaded with crime, and altogether in the dark as to what I
was to do ; and in this condition I languished near two years. I may well
call it languishing, for if Providence had not relieved me, I should have
died in little time. But of that hereafter.
I must now go back to another scene, and join it to this end of my
story, which will complete all my concern with England, at least all that
I shall bring into this account.
I have hinted at large what I had done for my two sons, one at
Messina, and the other in the Indies; but I have not gone through the
story of my two daughters. I was so in danger of being known by one
of them, that I durst not see her, so as to let her know who I was; and
for the other, I could not well know how to see her, and own her, and
let her see me, because she must then know that I would not let her sister
know me, which would look strange ; so that, upon the whole, I resolved
to see neither of them at all. But Amy managed all that for me; and
when she had made gentlewomen of them both, by giving them a good,
though late education, she had like to have blown up the whole case, and
herself and me too, by an unhappy discovery of herself to the last of them,
that is, to her who was our cook-maid, and who, as I said before, Amy
had been obliged to turn away, for fear of the very discovery which now
happened. I have observed already in what manner Amy managed her by
a third person; and how the girl, when she was set up for a lady, as
above, came and visited Amy at my lodgings; after which, Amy going,
as was her custom, to see the girl's brother (my son) at the honest man's
house in Spitalfields, both the girls were there, me-ely by accident, at the
same time; and the other girl unawares discovered the secret, namely, that
this was the lady that had done all this for them.
Amy was greatly surprised at it; but as she saw there was no remedy,
she made a jest of it, and so, after that, conversed openly, being still
satisfied that neither of them could make much of it, as long as they
knew nothing of me. So she took them together one time, and told them
the history, as she called it, of their mother, beginning at the miserable
carrying them to their aunt's; she owned she was not their mother herself,
but described her to them. However, when she said she was not their
mother, one of them expressed herself very much surprised, for the girl
had taken up a strong fancy that Amy was really her mother, and that
she had, for some particular reasons, concealed it from her; and therefore,
when she told her frankly that she was not her mother, the girl fell a-crying,
and Amy had much ado to keep life in her. This was the girl who was at
first my cook-maid m the Pall Mall. When Amy had brought her to again
a little, and she had recovered her first disorder, Amy asked what ailed
her? the poor girl hung about her, and kissed her, and was in such a
passion still, though she was a great wench of nineteen or twenty years old,
that she could not be brought to speak a great while. At last, having
recovered her speech, she said still, 'But oh! do not say you a'n't my
mother ! I'm sure you are my mother ' ; and then the girl cried again like
to kill herself. Amy could not tell what to do with her a good while;
she was loth to say again she was not her mother, because she would not
throw her into a fit of crying again; but she went round about a littte
with her. 'Why, child', says she, 'why would you have me be your
352 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
mother? If it be because I am so kind to you, be easy, my dear', says
Amy; 'I'll be as kind to you still, as if I was your mother.'
'Ay, but', says the girl, 'I am sure you are my mother too; and what
have I done that you won't own me, and that you will not be called my
mother? Though I am poor, you have made me a gentlewoman', says she,
and I won't do anything to disgrace you; besides', added she, 'I can keep
a secret, too, especially for my own mother, sure ' ; then she calls Amy
her dear mother, and hung about her neck again, crying still vehemently.
This last part of the girl's words alarmed Amy, and, as she told me,
frighted her terribly; nay, she was so confounded with it, that she was
not able to govern herself, or to conceal her disorder from the girl herself,
as you shall hear. Amy was at a full stop, and confused to the last
degree; and the girl, a sharp jade, turned it upon her. 'My dear mother',
says she, 'do not be uneasy about it; I know it all; but do not be uneasy,
I won't let my sister know a word of it, or my brother either, without
you giving me leave ; but don't disown me now you have found me ; don't
hide yourself from me any longer; I can't bear that', gays she, 'it will
break my heart.'
'I think the girl's mad', says Amy; 'why, child, I tell thee, if I was
thy mother I would not disown thee; don't you see I am as kind to you
as if I was your mother?' Amy might as well have sung a song to a
kettledrum, as talk to her. 'Yes', says the girl, 'you are very good to
me indeed'; and that was enough to make anybody believe she was her
mother too; but, however, that was not the case, she had other reasons
to believe, and to know, that she was her mother ; and it was a sad thing
she would not let her call her mother, who was her own child.
Amy was so heart-full with the disturbance of it, that she did not enter
farther with her into the inquiry, as she would otherwise have done ; I
mean, as to what made the girl so positive; but comes away, and tells me
the whole story.
I was thunderstruck with the story at first, and much more afterwards,
as you shall hear ; but, I say, I was thunderstruck at first, and amazed,
and said to Amy, 'There must be something or other in it more than we
know of.' But, having examined farther into it, I found the girl had no
notion of anybody but of Amy ; and glad I was, that I was not concerned
in the pretence, and that the girl had no notion of me in it. But even
this easiness did not continue long; for the next time Amy went to see
her, she was the same thing, and rather more violent with Amy than she
was before. Amy endeavoured to pacify her by all the ways imaginable:
first, she told her she took it ill, that she would not believe her ; and told
her, if she would not give over such a foolish whimsey, she would leave
her to the wide world as she found her.
This put the girl into fits, and she cried ready to kill herself, and hung
about Amy again like a child. 'Why', says Amy, 'why can you not be
easy with me, then, and compose yourself, and let me go on to do you
good, and show you kindness, as I would do, and as I intend to do?
Can you think that, if I was your mother, I would not tell you so? What
whimsey is this that possesses your mind?' says Amy. Well, the girl told
her in a few words (but those few such as frighted Amy out of her wits,
and me too) that she knew well enough how it was. 'I know', says she,
•when you left ', naming the village, 'where I lived when my father
went away from us all, that you went over to France; I know that too.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 353
and who you went with ', says the girl ; ' did not my Lady Roxana come
back again with you? I know it all well enough; though I was but a
child, I have heard it all.' And thus she run on with such discourse as
put Amy out of all temper again; and she raved at her like a bedlam,
and told her she would never come near her any more; she might go
a-begging again if she would; she'd have nothing to do with her. The
girl, a passionate wench, told her she knew the worst of it, she could go
to service again, and if she would not own her own child, she must do
as she pleased; then she fell into a passion of crying again, as if she
would kill herself.
In short, this girl's conduct terrified Amy to the last degree, and me
too; and, was it not that we knew the girl was quite wrong in some things,
she was yet so right in some other, that it gave me a great deal of per
plexity; but that which put Amy the most to it was that the girl (my
daughter) told her, that she (meaning me, her mother) had gone away
with the jeweller, and into France too; she did not call him the jeweller,
but with the landlord of the house; who, after her mother fell into distress,
and that Amy had taken all the children from her, made much of her, and
afterwards married her.
In short, it was plain the girl had but a broken account of things, but
yet that she had received some accounts that had a reality in the bottom
of them, so that, it seems, our first measures, and the amour with the
jeweller, were not so concealed as I thought they had been; and, it seems,
came in a broken manner to my sister-in-law, who Amy carried the
children to, and she made some bustle, it seems, about it. But, as good
luck was, it was too late, and I was removed, and gone, none knew
whither, or else she would have sent all the children home to me again,
to be sure.
This we picked out of the girl's discourse, that is to say, Amy did, at
several times; but it all consisted of broken fragments of stories, such as
the girl herself had heard so long ago, that she herself could make very
little of it; only that in the main, that her mother had played the whore?
had gone away with the gentleman that was landlord of the house; that
he married her; that she went into France. And, as she had learned in
my family, where she was a servant, that Mrs. Amy and her Lady Roxana
had been in France together, so she put all these things together, and,
joining them with the great kindness that Amy now showed her, possessed
the creature that Amy was really her mother, nor was it possible for Amy
to conquer it for a long time.
But this, after I had searched into it, as far as by Amy's relation I
could get an account of it, did not disquiet me half so much as that the
young slut had got the name of Roxana by the end, and that she knew
who her Lady Roxana was, and the like; though this, neither, did not
hang together, for then she would not have fixed upon Amy for her
mother. But some time after, when Amy had almost persuaded her out
of it, and that the girl began to be so confounded in her discourses of it,
that she made neither head nor tail, at last the passionate creature flew
out in a kind of rage, and said to Amy, that, if she was not her mother,
Madam Roxana was her mother then, for one of them, she was sure, was
her mother; and then all this that Amy had done for her was by Madam
Roxana's order. 'And I am sure', says she, 'it was my Lady Roxana's
coach that brought the gentlewoman, whoever it was, to my uncle's in
23
354 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
Spitalfields, for the coachman told me so.' Amy fell a-laughlng at her
aloud, as was her usual way; but, as Amy told me, it was but on one
side of her mouth, for she was so confounded at her discourse, that she
was ready to sink into the ground ; and so was I too when she told it me.
However, Amy brazened her out of it all; told her, 'Well, since you
think you are so high-born as to be my Lady Roxana's daughter, you may
go to her and claim your kindred, can't you? I suppose', says Amy,
'you know where to find her?' She said she did not question to find
her, for she knew where she was gone to live privately; but, though, she
might be removed again, ' For I know how it is ', says she, with a kind of
a smile or a grin; 'I know how it all is, well enough.'
Amy was so provoked, that she told me, in short, she began to think
it would be absolutely necessary to murder her. That expression filled
me with horror, all my blood ran chill in my veins, and a fit of trembling
seized me, that I could not speak a good while; at last, 'What? is the
devil in you, Amy?' said I. 'Nay, nay', says she, 'let it be the devil or
not the devil, if I thought she knew one tittle of your history, I would
despatch her, if she were my own daughter, a thousand times.' 'And I',
says I in a rage, 'as well as I love you, would be the first that should
put the halter about your neck, and see you hanged with more satisfaction
than ever I saw you in my life; nay', says I, 'you would not live to be
hanged, I believe I should cut your throat with my own hand; I am
almost ready to do it', said I, 'as 'tis, for your but naming the thing.'
With that, I called her cursed devil, and bade her get out of the room.
I think it was the first time that ever I was angry with Amy in all my
life; and when all was done, though she was a devilish jade in having
such a thought, yet it was all of it the effect of her excess of affection
and fidelitv to me.
But this thing gave me a terrible shock, for it happened just after I was
married, and served to hasten my going over to Holland ; for I would not
have been seen, so as to be known by the name of Roxana, no, not for
ten thousand pounds; it would have been enough to have ruined me to
all intents and purposes with my husband, and everybody else too ; I might
as well have been the 'German princess.'
Well, I set Amy to work; and, give Amy her due, she set all her wits
to work to find out which way this girl had her knowledge, but, more
particularly, how much knowledge she had— that is to say, what she
really knew, and what she did not know, for this was the main thing
with me ; how she could say she knew who Madam Roxana was, and what
notions she had of that affair, was very mysterious to me, for it was cer
tain she could not have a right notion of me, because she would have it
be that Amy was her mother.
I scolded heartily at Amy for letting the girl ever know her, that is to
say, know her in this affair; for that she knew her could not be hid, be
cause she, as I might say, served Amy, or rather under Amy, in my
family, as is said before; but she (Amy) talked with her at first by another
person, and not by herself; and that secret came out by an accident, as I
have said above.
Amy was concerned at it as well as I, but could not help it ; and, though
it gave us great uneasiness, yet, as there was no remedy, we were bound
to make as little noise of it as we could, that it might go no farther. I
Amy punish the girl for it, and she did so, for she parted with her
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 355
in a huff, and told her she should see she was not her mother, for that
she could leave her just where she found her; and, seeing she could not
be content to be served by the kindness of a friend, but that she would
needs make a mother of her, she would, for the future, be neither mother
or friend, and so bid her go to service again, and be a drudge as she was
before.
The poor girl cried most lamentably, but would not be beaten out of it
still; but that which dumbfoundered Amy more than all the rest was that
when she had rated the poor girl a long time, and could not beat her out
of it, and had, as I have observed, threatened to leave her, the girl kept
to what she said before, and put this turn to it again, that she was sure,
if Amy wa'n't, my Lady Roxana was her mother, and that she would go
find her out ; adding, that she made no doubt but she could do it, for she
knew where to inquire the name of her new husband.
Amy came home with this piece of news in her mouth to me. I could
easily perceive when she came in, that she was mad in her mind, and in
a rage at something or other, and was in great pain to get it out; for
when she came first in, my husband was in the room. However, Amy
going up to undress her, I soon made an excuse to follow her, and coming
into the room, 'What the d — 1 is the matter, Amy?' says I; 'I am sure
you have some bad news.' 'News', says Amy aloud; 'ay, so I have; I
think the d — 1 is in that young wench. She'll ruin us all and herself
too; there's no quieting her.' So she went on and told me all the parti
culars ; but sure nothing was so astonished as I was, when she told me
that the girl knew I was married, that she knew my husband's name, and
would endeavour to find me out. I thought I should have sunk down at
the very words. In the middle of all my amazement, Amy starts up and
runs about the room like a distracted body. 'I'll put an end to it, that I
will; I can't bear it — I must murder her, I'll kill the b '; and swears
by her Maker, in the most serious tone in the world, and then repeated
it over three or four times, walking to and again in the room. 'I will,
in short, I will kill her, if there was not another wench in the world,'
'Prithee hold thy tongue, Amy' says I; 'why, thou art mad.' 'Ay, so
I am ', says she, ' stark mad ; but I'll be the death of her for all that, and
then I shall be sober again.' 'But you sha'n't' says I; 'you sha'n't hurt
a hair of her head ; why, you ought to be hanged for what you have done
already, for having resolved on it is doing it; as to the guilt of the fact,
you are a murderer already, as much as if you had done it already.'
'I know that', says Amy, 'and it can be no worse; I'll put you out of
your pate, and her too? she shall never challenge you for her mother in
this world, whatever she may in the next.' 'Well, well', says I, 'be quiet,
and do not talk thus, I can't bear it.' So she grew a little soberer after
a while.
I must acknowledge, the notion of being discovered carried with it so
many frightful ideas, and hurried my thoughts so much, that I was scarce
myself any more than Amy, so dreadful a thing is a load of guilt upon
the mind.
And yet, when Amy began the second time to talk thus abominably of
killing the poor child, of murdering her, and swore by her Maker that she
would, so that I began to see that she was in earnest, I was farther
terrified a great deal, and it helped to bring me to myself again in
other cases.
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THE LIFE OF ROXANA
We laid our heads together then to see if it was possible to discover
by what means she had learned to talk so, and how she ( I mean my girl )
came to know that her mother had married a husband; but it would not
do, the girl would acknowledge nothing, and gave but a very imperfect
account of things still, being disgusted to the last degree with Amy's
leaving her so abruptly as she did.
Well, Amy went to the house where the boy was; but it was all one,
there they had only heard a confused story of the lady somebody, they
knew not who, which the same wench had told them, but they gave no
heed to it at all. Amy told them how foolishly the girl had acted, and
how she had carried on the whimsey so far, in spite of all they could
say to her; that she had taken it so ill, she would see her no more, and
so she might e'en go to service again if she would, for she ( Amy ) would
have nothing to do with her unless she humbled herself and changed her
note, and that quickly too.
The good old gentleman, who had been the benefactor to them all, was
greatly concerned at it, and the good woman his wife was grieved beyond
all expressing, and begged her ladyship (meaning Amy), not to resent it;
they promised, too, they would talk with her about it, and the old gentle
woman added, with some astonishment, 'Sure she cannot be such a fool
but she will be prevailed with to hold her tongue, when she has it from
your own mouth that you are not her mother, and sees that it disobliges
your ladyship to have her insist upon it.' And so Amy came away with
some expectation that it would be stopped here.
But the girl was such a fool for all that, and persisted in it obstinately,
notwithstanding all they could say to her; nay, her sister begged and
entreated her not to play the fool, for that it would ruin her too, and that
the lady (meaning Amy) would abandon them both.
Well, notwithstanding this, she insisted, I say, upon it, and, which was
worse, the longer it lasted the more she began to drop Amy's ladyship, and
would have it that the Lady Roxana was her mother, and that she
had made some inquiries about it, and did not doubt but she should
find her out.
When it was come to this, and we found there was nothing to be done
with the girl, but that she was so obstinately bent upon the search after
me, that she ventured to forfeit all she had in view ; I say, when I found
it was come to this, I began to be more serious in my preparations of
my going beyond sea, and particularly, it gave me some reason to fear
that there was something in it. But the following accident put me beside
all my measures, and struck me into the greatest confusion that ever I
was in my life.
I was so near going abroad, that my spouse and I had taken measures
for our going off; and because I would be sure not to go too public, but
so as to take away all possibility of being seen, I had made some exception
to my spouse against going in the ordinary public passage boats. My
pretence to him was the promiscuous crowds in those vessels, want of
convenience, and the like. So he took the hint, and found me out an
English merchant-ship, which was bound for Rotterdam, and getting soon
acquainted with the master, he hired his whole ship, that is to say, his
great cabin, for I do not mean his ship for freight, that so we had all
the conveniences possible for our passage; and all things being near ready,
he brought home the captain one day to dinner with him, that I might
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 357
see him, and be acquainted a little with him. So we came after dinner
to talk of the ship and the conveniences on board, and the captain pressed
me earnestly to come on board and see the ship, intimating that he would
treat us as well as he could ; and in discourse I happened to say I hoped
he had no other passengers. He said no, he had not; but, he said, his
wife had courted him a good while to let her go over to Holland with
him, for he always used that trade, but he never could think of venturing
all he had in one bottom; but, if I went with him, he thought to take her
and her kinswoman along with him this voyage, that they might both
wait upon me; and so added, that if we would do him the honour to
dine on board the next day, he would bring his wife on board, the better
to make us welcome.
Who now could have believed the devil had any snare at the bottom
of all this? or that I was in any danger on such an occasion, so remote
and out of the way as this was ? But the event was the oddest that could
be thought of. As it happened, Amy was not at home when we accepted
this invitation, and so she was left out of the company; but instead of
Amy, we took our honest, good-humoured, never-to-be-omitted friend the
Quaker, one of the best creatures that ever lived, sure ; and who, besides
a thousand good qualities unmixed with one bad one, was particularly
excellent for being the best company in the world; though I think I had
carried Amy too, if she had not been engaged in this unhappy girl's affair.
For on a sudden the girl was lost, and no news was to be heard of her ;
and Amy had haunted her to every place she could think of, that it was
likely to find her in; but all the news she could hear of her was, that
she was gone to an old comrade's house of hers, which she called sister,
and who was married to a master of a ship, who lived at Redriff; and
even this the jade never told me. It seems, when this girl was directed
by Amy to get her some breeding, go to the boarding-school, and the
like, she was recommended to a boarding-school at Camberwell, and there
she contracted an acquaintance with a young lady ( so they are all called ),
her bedfellow, that they called sisters, and promised never to break off
their acquaintance.
But judge you what an unaccountable surprise I must be in, when I
came on board the ship, and was brought into the captain's cabin, or what
they call it, the great cabin of the ship, to see his lady, or wife, and
another young person with her, who, when I came to see her near hand,
was my old cook-maid in the Pall Mall, and, as appeared by the sequel
of the story, was neither more or less than my own daughter. That I
knew her was out of doubt ; for though she had not had opportunity to
see me very often, yet I had often seen her, as I must needs, being in my
own family so long.
If ever I had need of courage, aud a full presence of mind, it was now ;
it was the only valuable secret in the world to me, all depended upon
this occasion; if the girl knew me, I was undone; and to discover any
surprise or disorder had been to make her know me, or guess it, and
discover herself.
I was once going to feign a swooning and fainting away, and so, falling
on the ground, or floor, put them all into a hurry and fright, and by that
means to get an opportunity to be continually holding something to my
nose to smell to, and so hold my hand or my handkerchief, or both,
before my mouth; then pretend 1 could not bear the smell of the ship,
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THE LIFE OF ROXANA
or the closeness of the cabin. But that would have been only to remove
into a clearer air upon the quarter-deck, where we should, with it, have
had a clearer light too; and, if I had pretended the smell of the ship, it
would have served only to have carried us all on shore to the captain's
house, which was hard by; for the ship lay so close to the shore, that
we only walked over a plank to go on board, and over another ship which
lay within her; so this not appearing feasible, and the thought not being
two minutes old, there was no time, for the two ladies rose up, and we
saluted, so that I was bound to come so near my girl as to kiss her,
which I would not have done had it been possible to have avoided it,
but there was no room to escape.
I cannot but take notice here, that notwithstanding there was a secret
horror upon my mind, and I was ready to sink when I came close to her
to salute her, yet it was a secret inconceivable pleasure to me when I
kissed her, to know that I kissed my own child, my own flesh and blood,
born of my body, and who I had never kissed since I took the fatal
farewell of them all, with a million of tears, and a heart almost dead with
grief, when Amy and the good woman took them all away, and went with
them to Spitalfields. No pen can describe, no words can express, I say,
the strange impression which this thing made upon my spirits. I felt
something shoot through my blood, my heart fluttered, my head flashed,
and was dizzy, and all within me, as I thought, turned about, and much
ado I had not to abandon myself to an excess of passion at the first sight
of her, much more when my lips touched her face. I thought I must have
taken her in my arms and kissed her again a thousand times, whether I
would or no.
But I roused up my judgment, and shook it off, and with infinite
uneasiness in my mind, I sat down. You will not wonder if upon this
surprise I was not conversable for some minutes, and that the disorder had
almost discovered itself. I had a complication of severe things upon me,
I could not conceal my disorder without the utmost difficulty, and yet upon
my concealing it depended the whole of my prosperity; so I used all
manner of violence with myself to prevent the mischief which was at the door.
Well, I saluted her, but as I went first forward to the captain's lady,
who was at the farther end of the cabin, towards the light, I had the
occasion offered to stand with my back to the light, when I turned about
to her, who stood more on my left hand, so that she had not a fair sight
of me, though I was so near her. I trembled, and knew neither what I
did or said, I was in the utmost extremity, between so many particular
circumstances as lay upon me, for I was to conceal my disorder from
everybody at the utmost peril, and at the same time expected everybody
would discern it. I was to expect she would discover that she knew me,
and yet was, by all means possible, to prevent it. I was to conceal myself,
if possible, and yet had not the least room to do anything towards it. In
short, there was no retreat, no shifting anything off, no avoiding or
preventing her having a full sight of me, nor was there any counterfeiting
my voice, for then my husband would have perceived it. In short, there
was not the least circumstance that offered me any assistance, or any
favourable thing to help me in this exigence.
After I had been upon the rack for near half-an-hour, during which I
appeared stiff and reserved, and a little too formal, my spouse and the
captain fell into discourses about the ship and the sea, and business remote
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 359
from us women j and, by-and-by, the captain carried him out upon the
quarter-deck, and left us all by ourselves in the great cabin. Then we
began to be a little freer one with another, and I began to be a little
revived by a sudden fancy of my own — namely, I thought I perceived that
the girl did not know me, and the chief reason of my having such a
notion was because I did not perceive the least disorder in her countenance,
or the least change in her carriage, no confusion, no hesitation in her
discourse ; nor, which I had my eye particularly upon, did I observe that
she fixed her eyes much upon me, that is to say, not singling me out to
look steadily at me, as I thought would have been the case, but that she
rather singled out my friend the Quaker, and chatted with her on several
things; but I observed, too, that it was all about indifferent matters.
This greatly encouraged me, and I began to be a little cheerful ; but I
was knocked down again as with a thunderclap, when turning to the cap
tain's wife, and discoursing of me, she said to her, 'Sister, I cannot but
think my lady to be very much like such a person.' Then she named the
person, and the captain's wife said she thought so too. The girl replied
again, she was sure she had seen me before, but she could not recollect
where; I answered (though her speech was not directed to me) that I
fancied she had not seen me before in England, but asked if she had
lived in Holland. She said, No, no, she had never been out of England,
and I added, that she could not then have known me in England, unless
it was very lately, for I had lived at Rotterdam a great while. This
carried me out of that part of the broil pretty well, and to make it go
off better, when a little Dutch boy came Into the cabin, who belonged to
the captain, and who I easily perceived to be Dutch, I jested and talked
Dutch to him, and was merry about the boy, that is to say, as merry as
the consternation I was still in would let me be.
However, I began to be thoroughly convinced by this time that the
girl did not know me, which was an infinite satisfaction to me, or, at
least, that though she had some notion of me, yet that she did not think
anything about my being who I was, and which, perhaps, she would have
been as glad to have known as I would have been surprised if she had;
indeed, it was evident that, had she suspected anything of the truth, she
would not have been able to have concealed it.
Thus this meeting went off, and, you may be sure, I was resolved, if
once I got off of it, she should never see me again to revive her fancy;
but I was mistaken there too, as you shall hear. After we had been on
board, the captain's lady carried us home to her house, which was but
just on shore, and treated us there again very handsomely, and made us
promise that we would come again and see her before we went to concert
our affairs for the voyage and the like, for she assured us that both she
and her sister went the voyage at that time for our company, and I
thought to myself, 'Then you'll never go the voyage at all'; for I saw
from that moment that it would be no way convenient for my ladyship to
go with them, for that frequent conversation might bring me to her mind,
and she would certainly claim her kindred to me in a few days, as indeed
would have been the case.
It is hardly possible for me to conceive what would have been our part
in this affair had my woman Amy gone with me on board this ship; it
had certainly blown up the whole affair, and I must for ever after have
been this girl's vassal, that is to say, have let her into the secret, and
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THE LIFE OF ROXANA
trusted to her keeping it too, or have been exposed and undone. The
very thought filled me with horror.
But I was not so unhappy neither, as it fell out, for Amy was not with
us, and that was my deliverance indeed ; yet we had another chance to
get over still. As I resolved to put oft' the voyage, so I resolved to put
off the visit, you may be sure, going upon this principle, namely, that I
was fixed in it that the girl had seen her last of me, and should never
see me more.
However, to bring myself well off, and, withal, to see, if I could, a
little farther into the matter, I sent my friend the Quaker to the captain's
lady to make the visit promised, and to make my excuse that I could not
possibly wait on her, for that I was very much out of order; and in the
end of the discourse I bade her insinuate to them that she was afraid I
should not be able to get ready to go the voyage as soon as the captain
would be obliged to go, and that perhaps we might put it off to his next
voyage. I did not let the Quaker into any other reason for it than that
I was indisposed ; and not knowing what other face to put upon that part,
I made her believe that I thought I was a-breeding.
It was easy to put that into her head, and she of course hinted to the
captain's lady that she found me so very ill that she was afraid I would
miscarry, and then, to be sure, I could not think of going.
She went, and she managed that part very dexterously, as I knew she
would, though she knew not a word of the grand reason of my indisposi
tion; but I was all sunk and dead-hearted again when she told me she
could not understand the meaning of one thing in her visit, namely, that
the young woman, as she called her, that was with the captain's lady, and
who she called sister, was most impertinently inquisitive into things; as
who I was? how long I had been in England? where I had lived? and
the like ; and that, above all the rest, she inquired if I did not live once
at the other end of the town.
'I thought her inquiries so out of the way', says the honest Quaker,
'that I gave her not the least satisfaction; but, as I saw by thy answers
on board the ship, when she talked of thee, that thou didst not incline to
let her be acquainted with thee, so I was resolved that she should not be
much the wiser for me ; and, when she asked me if thou ever lived'st here
or there, I always said, No, but that thou wast a Dutch lady, and was
going home again to thy family, and lived abroad.'
I thanked her very heartily for that part, and indeed she served me in
it more than I let her know she did : in a word, she thwarted the girl so
cleverly, that if she had known the whole affair she could not have done
it better.
But, I must acknowledge, all this put me upon the rack again, and I
was quite discouraged, not at all doubting but that the jade had a right
scent of things, and that she knew and remembered my face, but had
artfully concealed her knowledge of me till she might perhaps do it more
to my disadvantage. I told all this to Amy, for she was all the relief I
had. The poor soul (Amy) was ready to hang herself, that, as she said,
she had been the occasion of it all; and that if I was ruined (which was
the word I always used to her), she had ruined me; and she tormented
herself about it so much, that I was sometimes fain to comfort her and
myself too.
What Amy vexed herself at was, chiefly, that she should be surprised
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 36!
so by the girl, as she called her; I mean surprised into a discovery of
herself to the girl ; which indeed was a false step of Amy's, and so I had
often told her. But it was to no purpose to talk of that now, the business
was, how to get clear of the girl's suspicions, and of the girl too, for it
looked more threatening every day than other; and, if I was uneasy at
what Amy had told me of her rambling and rattling to her (Amy), I had
a thousand times as much reason to be uneasy now, when she had chopped
upon me so unhappily as this ; and not only had seen my face, but knew
too where I lived, what name I went by, and the like.
And I am not come to the worst of it yet neither, for a few days after
my friend the Quaker had made her visit, and excused me on the account
of indisposition, as if they had done it in over and above kindness, because
they had been told I was not well, they come both directly to my lodgings
to visit me: the captain's wife and my daughter (who she called sister),
and the captain, to show them the place; the captain only brought them
to the door, put them in, and went away upon some business.
Had not the kind Quaker, in a lucky moment, come running in before
them, they had not only clapped in upon me, in the parlour, as it had
been a surprise, but which would have been a thousand times worse, had
seen Amy with me; I think if that had happened, I had had no remedy
but to take the girl by herself, and have made myself known to her, which
would have been all distraction.
But the Quaker, a lucky creature to me, happened to see them come to
the door, before they rung the bell, and, instead of going to let them in,
came running in with some confusion in her countenance, and told me
who was a-coming; at which Amy run first and I after her, and bid the
Quaker come up as soon as she had let them in.
I was going to bid her deny me, but it came into my thoughts, that
having been represented so much out of order, it would have looked very
odd; besides, I knew the honest Quaker, though she would do anything
else for me, would not lie for me, and it would have been hard to have
desired it of her.
After she had let them in, and brought them into the parlour, she came
up to Amy and I, who were hardly out of the fright, and yet were con
gratulating one another that Amy was not surprised again.
They paid their visit in form, and I received them as formally, but took
occasion two or three times to hint that I was so ill that I was afraid I
should not be able to go to Holland, at least not so soon as the captain
must go off; and made my compliment how sorry I was to be disappointed
of the advantage of their company and assistance in the voyage; and
sometimes I talked as if I thought I might stay till the captain returned,
and would be ready to go again; then the Quaker put in, that then I
might be too far gone, meaning with child, that I should not venture at
all; and then (as if she should be pleased with it) added, she hoped I
would stay and lie in at her house; so as this carried its own face with
it, 'twas well enough.
But it was now high time to talk of this to my husband, which, however,
was not the greatest difficulty before me; for after this and other chat had
taken up some time, the young fool began her tattle again; and two or
three times she brought it in, that I was so like a lady that she had the
honour to know at the other end of the town, that she could not put that
lady out of her mind when I was by, and once or twice I fancied the girl
362
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
was ready to cry; by and by she was at it again, and at last I plainly
saw tears in her eyes; upon which I asked her if the lady was dead, be
cause she seemed to be in some concern for her. She made me much
easier by her answer than ever she did before j she said she did not really
know, but she believed she was dead.
This, I say, a little relieved my thoughts, but I was soon down again;
for, after some time, the jade began to grow talkative; and as it was plain
that she had told all that her head could retain of Roxana, and the days
of joy which I had spent at that part of the town, another accident had
like to have blown us all up again.
I was in a kind of dishabille when they came, having on a loose robe,
like a morning-gown, but much after the Italian way; and I had not
altered it when I went up, only dressed my head a little; and as I had
been represented as having been lately very ill, so the dress was becoming
enough for a chamber.
This morning vest, or robe, call it as you please, was more shaped to
the body than we wear them since, showing the body in its true shape,
and perhaps a little too plainly if it had been to be worn where any men
were to come; but among ourselves it was well enough, especially for hot
weather; the colour was green, figured, and the stuff a French damask,
very rich.
This gown or vest put the girl's tongue a running again, and her sister,
as she called her, prompted it; for, as they both admired my vest, and
were taken up much about the beauty of the dress, the charming damask,
the noble trimming, and the like, my girl puts in a word to the sister
(captain's wife), 'This is just such a thing as I told you', says she, 'the
lady danced in.' 'What', says the captain's wife, 'the Lady Roxana that
you told me of? Oh ! that's a charming story ', says she, ' tell it my lady.'
I could not avoid saying so too, though from my soul I wished her in
heaven for but naming it; nay, I won't say but if she had been carried
t'other way it had been much as one to me, if I could but have been rid
of her, and her story too, for, when she came to describe the Turkish
dress, it was impossible but the Quaker, who was a sharp, penetrating
creature, should receive the impression in a more dangerous manner than
the girl, only that indeed she was not so dangerous a person; for if she
had known it all, I could more freely have trusted her than I could the
girl, by a great deal, nay, I should have been perfectly easy in her.
However, as I have said, her talk made me dreadfully uneasy, and the
more when the captain's wife mentioned but the name of Roxana. What
my face might do towards betraying me I knew not, because I could not
see myself, but my heart beat as if it would have jumped out at my
mouth, and my passion was so great, that, for want of vent, I thought I
should have burst. In a word, I was in a kind of a silent rage, for the
force I was under of restraining my passion was such as I never felt the
like of. I had no vent, nobody to open myself to, or to make a complaint
to, for my relief; I durst not leave the room by any means, for then she
would have told all the story in my absence, and I should have been
perpetually uneasy to know what she had said, or had not said; so that,
in a word, I was obliged to sit and hear her tell all the story of Roxana,
that is to say, of myself, and not know at the same time whether she
was in earnest or in jest, whether she knew me or noj or, in short,
whether I was to be exposed, or not exposed.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 363
She began only in general with telling where she lived, what a place
she had of it, how gallant a company her lady had always had in the
house ; how they used to sit up all night in the house gaming and dancing;
what a fine lady her mistress was, and what a vast deal of money the
upper servants got; as for her, she said, her whole business was in the
next house, so that she got but little, except one night that there was
twenty guineas given to be divided among the servants, when, she said,
she got two guineas and a half for her share.
She went on, and told them how many servants there was, and how
they were ordered; but, she said, there was one Mrs Amy who was over
them all ; and that she, being the lady's favourite, got a great deal. She
did not know, she said, whether Amy was her Christian name or her
surname, but she supposed it was her surname; that they were told she
got threescore pieces of gold at one time, being the same night that the
rest of the servants had the twenty guineas divided among them.
I put in at that word, and said it was a vast deal to give away. 'Why',
says I, 'it was a portion for a seivant.' 'O madam!', says she, 'It was
nothing to what she got afterwards; we that were servants hated her
heartily for it ; that is to say, we wished it had been our lot in her stead.'
Then I said again, 'Why, it was enough to get her a good husband, and
settle her for the world, if she had sense to manage it.' 'So it might, to
be sure, madam', says she, 'for we were told she laid up above £500;
but, I suppose, Mrs Amy was too sensible that her character would
require a good portion to put her off.'
' Oh ', said I, ' if that was the case it was another thing.' • Nay ', says
she, 'I don't know, but they talked very much of a young lord that was
very great with her/
'And pray what came of her at last?' said I, for I was willing to hear
a little (seeing she would talk of it) what she had to say, as well of
myself. 'I don't know, madam', said she; 'I never heard of her for several
years, till t'other day I happened to see her.'
'Did you indeed?' says I (and made mighty strange of it); 'what! and in
rags, it may be' said I; 'that's often the end of such creatures.' 'Just the
contrary, madam' says she. 'She came to visit an acquaintance of mine, little
thinking, I suppose, to see me, and, I assure you, she came in her coach.'
'In her coach!' said I; 'upon my word, she had made her market
thenj^I suppose she made hay while the sun shone. Was she married,
pray?' 'I believe she had been married, madam', says she, 'but it seems
she had been at the East Indies ; and if she was married, it was there, to
be sure. I think she said she had good luck in the Indies.'
'That is, I suppose', said I, 'had buried her husband there.' 'I under
stood it so, madam', says she, 'and that she had got his estate.'
•Was that her good luck?' said I; 'it might be good to her, as to the
money indeed, but it was but the part of a jade to call it good luck.'
Thus far our discourse of Mrs Amy went, and no farther, for she knew
no more of her; but then the Quaker unhappily, though undesignedly, put
in a question, which the honest good-humoured creature would have been
far from doing if she had known that I had carried on the discourse of
Amy on purpose to drop Roxana out of the conversation.
But I was not to be made easy too soon. The Quaker put in, 'But I
think thou saidst something was behind of thy mistress; what didst thou
call her? Roxana, was it not? Pray, what became of her?'
364 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
'Ay, ay, Roxana', says the captain's wife; 'pray, sister, let's hear the
story of Roxana; it will divert my lady, I'm sure.' *
'That's a damned lie', said I to myself; 'if you knew how little 'twould
divert me, you would have too much advantage over me.' Well, I saw
no remedy, but the story must come on, so I prepared to hear the
worst of it.
'Roxana!' says she, 'I know not what to say of her; she was so much
above us, and so seldom seen, that we could know little of her but by
report ; but we did sometimes see her too ; she was a charming woman
indeed, and the footmen used to say that she was to be sent for to court.'
' To court ! ' said I ; ' why, she was at court, wasn't she ? the Pall Mall
is not far from Whitehall.' 'Yes, madam', says she, 'but I mean
another way.'
'I understand thee', says the Quaker; 'thou meanest, I suppose, to be
mistress to the king.' ' Yes, madam ', said she.
I cannot help confessing what a reserve of pride still was left in mej
and, though I dreaded the sequel of the story, yet when she talked how
handsome and how fine a lady this Roxana was, I could not help being
pleased and tickled with it, and put in questions two or three times of
how handsome she was, and was she really so fine a woman as they
talked of; and the like, on purpose to hear her repeat what the people's
opinion of me was, and how I had behaved.
•Indeed', says she, at last, 'she was a most beautiful creature as ever
I saw in my life.' 'But then', said I, 'you never had the opportunity to
see her but when she was set out to the best advantage.'
'Yes, yes, madam', says she, 'I have seen her several times in her
dishabille. And I can assure you, she was a very fine woman; and that
which was more still, everybody said she did not paint.'
This was still agreeable to me one wayj but there was a devilish sting
in the tail of it all, and this last article was one; wherein she said she
had seen me several times in my dishabille. This put me in mind that
then she must certainly know me, and it would come out at last; which
was death to me but to think of.
'Well, but, sister', says the captain's wife, 'tell my lady about the ball ;
that's the best of all the story; and of Roxana's dancing in a fine
outlandish dress.'
'That's one of the brightest parts of her story, indeed' says the girl.
' The case was this : we had balls and meetings in her ladyship's apart
ments every week almost; but one time my lady invited all the nobles to
come such a time, and she would give them a ball ; and there was a vast
crowd indeed', says she.
'1 think you said the king was there, sister, didn't you?'
' No, madam ', says she, ' that was the second time, when they said
the king had heard how finely the Turkish lady danced, and that he
was there to see her; but the king, if his Majesty was there, came disguised.'
'That is what they call incog.' says my friend the Quaker; 'thou canst
not think the king would disguise himself 'Yes', says the girl, 'it was
so; he did not come in public with his guards, but we all knew which
was the king well enough, that is to say, which they said was the king.'
'Well', says the captain's wife, 'about the Turkish dress ; pray let us
hear that.' 'Why', says she, 'my lady sat in a fine little drawing-room,
which opened into the great room, and where she received the compliments
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 365
of the company; and when the dancing began, a great lord*, says she, 'I
forget who they called him ( but he was a very great lord or duke, I don't
know which ); took her out, and danced with her ; but after a while, my
lady on a sudden shut the drawing-room, and ran upstairs with her woman,
Mrs Amy ; and, though she did not stay long ( for I suppose she had
contrived it all beforehand), she came down dressed in the strangest figure
that ever I saw in my life; but it was exceeding fine.'
Here she went on to describe the dress, as I have done already; but
did it so exactly that I was surprised at the manner of her telling it ; there
was not a circumstance of it left out.
I was now under a new perplexity, for this young slut gave so complete
an account of everything in the dress that my friend the Quaker coloured
at it, and looked two or three times at me, to see if I did not do so
too; for (as she told me afterwards) she immediately perceived it was
the same dress that she had seen me have on, as I have said before.
However, as she saw I took no notice of it, she kept her thoughts private
to herself; and I did so too, as well as I could.
I put in two or three times, that she had a good memory, that could
be so particular in every part of such a thing.
'Oh, madam!', says she, 'we that were servants stood by ourselves in
a corner, but so as we could see more than some strangers ; besides ', says
she, 'it was all our conversation for several days in the family, and what
one did not observe another did.' 'Why', says I to her, 'this was no
Persian dress; only, I suppose your lady was some French comedian, that
is to say a stage Amazon, that put on a counterfeit dress to please the
company, such as they used in the play of Tamerlane at Paris, or some
such.'
'No, indeed, madam', says she, 'I assure you my lady was no actress;
she was a fine modest lady, fit to be a princess; everybody said if she
was a mistress, she was fit to be a mistress to none but the king; and
they talked her up for the king as if it had really been so. Besides,
madam', says she, 'my lady danced a Turkish dance; all the lords and
gentry said it was so; and one of them swore he had seen it danced in
Turkey himself, so that it could not come from the theatre at Paris; and
then the name Roxana', says she, 'was a Turkish name.'
'Well', said I, 'but that was not your lady's name, I suppose?'
'No, no, madam', said she, 'I know that. I know my lady's name and
family very well; Roxana was not her name, that's true, indeed.'
Here she run me aground again, for I durst not ask her what was
Roxana's real name, lest she had really dealt with the devil, and had
boldly given my own name in for answer; so that I was still more and
more afraid that the girl had really gotten the secret somewhere or other;
though I could not imagine neither how that could be.
In a word, I was sick of the discourse, and endeavoured many ways to
put an end to it, but it was impossible; for the captain's wife, who called
her sister, prompted her, and pressed her to tell it, most ignorantly
thinking that it would be a pleasant tale to all of us.
Two or three times the Quaker put in, that this Lady Roxana had a
good stock of assurance; and that it was likely, if she had been in
Turkey, she had lived with, or been kept by, some great bashaw there.
But still she would break in upon all such discourse, and fly out into the
most extravagant praises of her mistress, the famed Roxana. I run her
366
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
down as some scandalous woman; that it was not possible to be other
wise; but she would not hear of it; her lady was a person of such and
such qualifications that nothing but an angel was like her, to be sure ; and
yet, after all she could say, her own account brought her down to this,
that, in short, her lady kept little less than a gaming ordinary; or, as it
would be called in the times since that, an assembly for gallantry and play.
All this while I was very uneasy, as I said before, and yet the whole
story went off again without any discovery, only that I seemed a little
concerned that she should liken me to this gay lady, whose character I
pretended to run down very much, even upon the foot of her own relation.
But I was not at the end of my mortifications yet, neither, for now my
innocent Quaker threw out an unhappy expression, which put me upon
the tenters again. Says she to me, 'This lady's habit, I fancy, is just
such a one as thine, by the description of it'; and then, turning to the
captain's wife, says she, ' I fancy my friend has a finer Turkish or Persian
dress, a great deal.' 'Oh', says the girl, ''tis impossible to be finer; my
lady's', says she, 'was all covered with gold and diamonds; her hair and
head-dress, I forget the name they gave it ', said she, ' shone like the stars,
there were so many jewels in it.'
I never wished my good friend the Quaker out of my company before
now; but, indeed, I would have given some guineas to have been rid of
her just now; for beginning to be curious in the comparing the two
dresses, she innocently began a description of mine ; and nothing terrified
me so much as the apprehension lest she should importune me to show
it, which I was resolved I would never agree to. But before it came to
this, she pressed my girl to describe the tyhaia, or head-dress, which she
did so cleverly that the Quaker could not help saying mine was just such
a one; and, after several other similitudes, all very vexatious to me, out
comes the kind motion to me to let the ladies see my dress ; and they
joined their eager desires of it, even to importunity.
I desired to be excused, though I had little to say at first why I declined
it; but at last it came into my head to say it was packed up with my
other clothes that I had least occasion for, in order to be sent on board
the captain's ship; but that, if we lived to come to Holland together
( which, by the way, I resolved should never happen ) , then, I told them,
at unpacking my clothes, they should see me dressed in it; but they must not
expect I should dance in it, like the Lady Roxana in all her fine things.
This carried it off pretty well; and getting over this, got over most of
the rest, and I began to be easy again ; and, in a word, that I may dismiss
the story too, as soon as may be, I got rid at last of my visitors, who I
had wished gone two hours sooner than they intended it.
As soon as they were gone, I ran up to Amy, and gave vent to my
passions by telling her the whole story, and letting her see what mischiefs
one false step of hers had like, unluckily, to have involved us all in; more,
perhaps, than we could ever have lived to get through. Amy was sensible
of it enough, and was just giving her wrath a vent another way, viz. by
calling the poor girl all the damned jades and fools ( and sometimes worse
names) that she could think of, in the middle of which up comes my
honest, good Quaker, and put an end to our discourse. The Quaker came
in smiling (for she was always soberly cheerful). 'Well', says she, 'thou
art delivered at last; I come to joy thee of it; I perceived thou wert tired
grievously of thy visitors.'
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 367
'Indeed', says I, 'so I was; that foolish young girl held us all in a
Canterbury story; I thought she would never have done with it.' 'Why,
truly, I thought she was very careful to let thee know she was but a
cook-maid.' 'Ay', says I, 'and at a gaming-house, or garni ng-ordinary,
and at t'other end of the town too; all which (by the way) she might
know would add very little to her good name among us citizens.'
'I can't think', says the Quaker, 'but she had some other drift in that
long discourse; there's something else in her head* says she; 'I am
satisfied of that.' Thought I, 'Are you satisfied of it? I am sure I am
the less satisfied for that ; at least 'tis but small satisfaction to me to hear
you say so. What can this be?' says I; 'and when will my uneasiness
have an end ? ' But this was silent, and to myself, you may be sure. But
in answer to my friend the Quaker, J returned by asking her a question
or two about it; as what she thought was in it, and why she thought
there was anything in it. 'For', says I, 'she can have nothing in it
relating to me.'
'Nay' says the kind Quaker, 'if she had any view towards thee, that's
no business of mine ; and I should be far from desiring thee to inform me.'
This alarmed me again; not that I feared trusting the good-humoured
creature with it, if there had been anything of just suspicion in her; but
this affair was a secret I cared not to communicate to anybody. However,
I say, this alarmed me a little; for as I had concealed everything from
from her, I was willing to do so still; but as she could not but gather
up abundance of things from the girl's discourse, which looked towards
me, so she was too penetrating to be put off with such answers as might
stop another's mouth. Only there was this double felicity in it, first, that
she was not inquisitive to know or find anything out, and not dangerous
if she had known the whole story. But, as I say, she could not but gather
up several circumstances from the girl's discourse, as particularly the name
of Amy, and the several descriptions of the Turkish dress which my friend
the Quaker had seen, and taken so much notice of, as I have said above.
As for that, I might have turned it off by jesting with Amy, and asking
her who she lived with before she came to live with me. But that would
not do, for we had unhappily anticipated that way of talking, by having
often talked how long Amy had lived with me; and, which was still
worse, by having owned formerly that I had had lodgings in the Pall
Mall ; so that all those things corresponded too well. There was only one
thing that helped me out with the Quaker, and that was the girl's having
reported how rich Mrs Amy was grown, and that she kept her coach.
Now, as there might be many more Mrs Amys besides mine, so it was
not likely to be my Amy, because she was far from such a figure as
keeping her coach; and this carried it off from the suspicions which the
good friendly Quaker might have in her head.
But as to what she imagined the girl had in her head, there lay more
real difficulty in that part a great deal, and I was alarmed at it very much,
for my friend the Quaker told me that she observed the girl was in a
great passion when she talked of the habit, and more when I had been
importuned to show her mine, but declined it. She said she several times
perceived her to be in disorder, and to restrain herself with great difficulty;
and once or twice she muttered to herself that she had found it out, or
that she would find it out, she could not tell whether : and that she often
saw tears in her eyes; that when I said my suit of Turkish clothes was
368 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
put up, but that she should see it when we arrived in Holland, she heard
her say softly she would go over on purpose then.
After she had ended her observations, I added: 'I observed, too, that
the girl talked and looked oddly, and that she was mighty inquisitive, but
I could not imagine what it was she aimed at.' 'Aimed at', says the
Quaker, ' 'tis plain to me what she aims at. She believes thou art the
same Lady Roxana that danced in the Turkish vest, but she is not certain.'
'Does she believe so?' says I; 'if I had thought that, I would have put
her out of her pain.' 'Believe so!' says the Quaker? 'yes, and I began
to think so too, and should have believed so still, if thou had'st not
satisfied me to the contrary by thy taking no notice of it, and by what
thou hast said since.' 'Should you have believed so?' said I warmly; 'I
am very sorry for that. Why, would you have taken me for an actress,
or a French stage-player?' 'No', says the good kind creature, 'thou
carriest it too far; as soon as thou madest thy reflections upon her, I
knew it could not be ; but who could think any other when she described
the Turkish dress which thou hast here, with the head-tire and jewels, and
when she named thy maid Amy too, and several other circumstances con
curring? I should certainly have believed it', said she, if thou hadst not
contradicted it; but as soon as I heard thee speak, I concluded it was
otherwise.' 'That was very kind' said I; and I am obliged to you for
doing me so much justice; it is more, it seems, than that young talking
creature does.' 'Nay', says the Quaker; 'indeed she does not do thee
justice ; for she as certainly believes it still as ever she did.' ' Does she ? '
said I. 'Ay', says the Quaker; 'and I warrant thee, she'll make thee
another visit about it' 'Will she?' said I; ' then I believe I shall down
right affront her.' ' No, thou shalt not affront her ', says she (full of her
good -humour and temper); Til take that part off thy hands, for I'll affront
her for thee, and not let her see thee.' I thought that was a very kind
offer, but was at a loss how she would be able to do it ; and the thought
of seeing her there again half distracted me, not knowing what temper
she would come in, much less what manner to receive her in; but my
fast friend and constant comforter, the Quaker, said she perceived the girl
was impertinent, and that I had no inclination to converse with her, and
she was resolved I should not be troubled with her. But I shall have
occasion to say more of this presently, for this girl went farther yet than
I thought she had.
It was now time, as I said before, to take measures with my husband
in order to put off my voyage; so I fell into talk with him one morning
as he was dressing, and while I was in bed. I pretended I was very ill;
and, as I had but too easy a way to impose upon him, because he so
absolutely believed everything I said, so I managed my discourse as that
he should understand by it I was a-breeding, though I did not tell him so.
However, I brought it about so handsomely, that, before he went out of
the room, he came and sat down by my bedside, and began to talk very
seriously to me upon the subject of my being so every day ill, and that,
as he hoped I was with child, he would have me consider well of it,
whether I had not best alter my thoughts of the voyage to Holland; for
that being sea-sick, and which was worse, if a storm should happen, might
be very dangerous to me. And, after saying abundance of the kindest
things that the kindest of husbands in the world could say, he concluded
that it was his request to me, that I would not think any more of going
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 369
till after all should be over ; but that I would, on the contrary, prepare to
lie-in where I was, and where I knew, as well as he, I could be very well
provided, and very well assisted.
This was just what I wanted, for I had, as you have heard, a thousand
good reasons why I should put off the voyage, especially with that creature
in company ; but I had a mind the putting it off should be at his motion,
not my own; and he came into it of himself, just as I would have had
it. This gave me an opportunity to hang back a little, and to seem as
if I was unwilling. I told him I could not abide to put him to difficulties
and perplexities in his business; that now he had hired the great cabin
in the ship, and, perhaps, paid some of the money, and, it may be, taken
freight for goods; and to make him break it all off again would be a
needless charge to him, or, perhaps, a damage to the captain.
As to that, he said, it was not to be named, and he would not allow
it to be any consideration at all; that he could easily pacify the captain
of the ship by telling him the reason of it, and that if he did make him
some satisfaction for the disappointment, it should not be much.
' But, my dear ', says I, ' you ha'n't heard me say I am with child, neither
can I say so ; and if it should not be so at last, then I shall have made
a fine piece of work of it indeed; besides', says I, 'the two ladies, the
captain's wife and her sister, they depend upon our going over, and have
made great preparations, and all in compliment to me; what must I say
to them?'
'Well, my dear', says he, 'if you should not be with child, though I
hope you are, yet there is no harm done; the staying three or four months
longer in England will be no damage to me, and we can go when we
please, when we are sure you are not with child, or, when it appearing
that you are with child, you shall be down and up again; and as for the
captain's wife and sister, leave that part to me ; I'll answer for it there
shall be no quarrel raised upon that subject. I'll make your excuse to
them by the captain himself, so all will be well enough there, 111
warrant you.'
This was a much as I could desire, and thus it rested for awhile. I
had indeed some anxious thoughts about this impertinent girl, but believed
that putting off the voyage would have put an end to it all, so I began
to be pretty easy; but I found myself mistaken, for I was brought to the
point of destruction by her again, and that in the most unaccountable
manner imaginable.
My husband, as he and I had agreed, meeting the captain of the ship,
took the freedom to tell him that he was afraid he must disappoint him,
for that something had fallen out which had obliged him to alter his
measures, and that his family could not be ready to go time enough for him.
'I know the occasion, sir', says the captain; 'I hear your lady has got
a daughter more than she expected ; I give you joy of it.' ' What do you
mean by that?' says my spouse. 'Nay, nothing', says the captain; 'but
what I hear the women tattle over the tea-table. I know nothing, but that
you don't go the voyage upon it, which I am sorry for ; but you know
your own affairs', added the captain, 'that's no business of mine.'
'Well, but', says my husband, 'I must make you some satisfaction for
the disappointment'; and so pulls out his money. 'No, no', says the
captain; and so they fell to straining their compliments one upon another i
but, in short, my spouse gave him three or four guineas, and made him
24
370 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
take it. And so the first discourse went off again, and they had no
more of it.
But it did not go off so easily with me, for now, in a word, the clouds
began to thicken about me, and I had alarms on every side. My husband
told me what the captain had said, but very happily took it that the captain
had brought a tale by halves, and, having heard it one way, had told it
another; and that neither could he understand the captain, neither did the
captain understand himself, so he contented himself to tell me, he said,
word for word, as the captain delivered it.
How I kept my husband from discovering my disorder you shall hear
presently; but let it suffice to say just now, that if my husband did not
understand the captain, nor the captain understand himself, yet I understood
them both very well ; and, to tell the truth, it was a worse shock than
ever I had yet. Invention supplied me, indeed, with a sudden motion to
avoid showing my surprise ; for as ray spouse and I was sitting by a little
table near the fire, I reached out my hand, as if I had intended to take
a spoon which lay on the other side, and threw one of the candles off of
the table; and then snatching it up, started up upon my feet, and stooped
to the lap of my gown and took it in my hand. ' Oh ! ' says I, ' my gown's
spoiled; the candle has greased it prodigiously.' This furnished me with
an excuse to my spouse to break off the discourse for the present, and
call Amy down; and Amy not coming presently, I said to him, 'My dear,
I must run upstairs and put it off, and let Amy clean it a little.' So my
husband rose up too, and went into a closet where he kept his papers, and
fetched a book out, and sat down by himself to read.
Glad I was that I had got away, and up I run to Amy, who, as it
happened, was alone. ' Oh, Amy ! ' says I, ' we are all utterly undone.'
And with that I burst out a-crying, and could not speak a word for
a great while.
I cannot help saying that some very good reflections offered themselves
upon this head. It presently occurred, what a glorious testimony it is to
the justice of Providence, and to the concern Providence has in guiding
all the affairs of men (even the least as well as the greatest), that the
most secret crimes are, by the most unforeseen accidents, brought to light
and discovered.
Another reflection was, how just it is that sin and shame follow one
another so constantly at the heels; that they are not like attendants only,
but, like cause and consequence, necessarily connected one with another;
that the crime going before,' the scandal is certain to follow ; and that 'tis
not in the power of human nature to conceal the first, or avoid the last.
'What shall I do, Amy?' said I, as soon as I could speak, 'and what
will become of me?' And then I cried again so vehemently that I could
say no more a great while. Amy was frighted almost out of her wits, but
knew nothing what the matter was ; but she begged to know, and persuaded
me to compose myself, and not cry so. 'Why, madam, if my master
should come up now', says she, 'he will see what a disorder you are in;
he will know you have been crying, and then he will want to know the
cause of it.' With that I broke out again. 'Oh, he knows it already,
Amy', says I; 'he knows all! 'Tis all discovered, and we are undone!'
Amy was thunderstruck now indeed. 'Nay', says Amy, 'if that be true,
we are undone indeed; but that can never be; that's impossible, I'm sure.'
•No, no', says I; ''tis far from impossible, for I tell you 'tis so.' And
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 371
by this time, being a little recovered, I told her what discourse my husband
and the captain had had together, and what the captain had said. This
put Amy into such a hurry that she cried, she raved, she swore and cursed
like a mad thing; then she upbraided me that I would not let her kill
the girl when she would have done it, and that it was all my own doing,
and the like. Well, however, I was not for killing the girl yet. I could
not bear the thoughts of that neither.
We spent half-an-hour in these extravagances, and brought nothing out
of them neither; for, indeed, we could do nothing or say nothing that was
to the purpose ; for if anything was to come out-of-the-way, there was no
hindering it, or help for it; so, after thus giving a vent to myself by crying,
I began to reflect how I had left my spouse below, and what I had pre
tended to come up for; so I changed my gown that I pretended the candle
fell upon, and put on another, and went down.
When I had been down a good while, and found my spouse did not
fall into the story again, as I expected, I took heart, and called for it.
'My dear', said I, 'the fall of the candle put you out of your history,
won't you go on with it?' 'What history?' says he. 'Why', says I,
•about the captain.' 'Oh', says he, 'I had done with it. I know no more
than that the captain told a broken piece of news that he had heard by
halves, and told more by halves than he heard it — namely, of your being
with child, and that you could not go the voyage.'
I perceived my husband entered not into the thing at all, but took it
for a story, which, being told two or three times over, was puzzled, and
come to nothing, and that all that was meant by it was what he knew,
or thought he knew already — viz. that I was with child, which he wished
might be true.
His ignorance was a cordial to my soul, and I cursed them in my
thoughts that should ever undeceive him ; and, as I saw him willing to
have the story end there, as not worth being farther mentioned, I closed
it too, and said I supposed the captain had it from his wife; she might
have found somebody else to make her remarks upon; and so it passed
off with my husband well enough, and I was still safe there, where I
thought myself in most danger. But I had two uneasinesses still; the first
was lest the captain and my spouse should meet again, and enter into farther
discourse about it ; and the second was lest the busy, impertinent girl should
come again, and, when she came, how to prevent her seeing Amy, which
was an article as material as any of the rest; for seeing Amy would have
been as fatal to me as her knowing all the rest.
As to the first of these, I knew the captain could not stay in town
above a week, but that, his ship being already full of goods, and fallen
down the river, he must soon follow, so I contrived to carry my husband
somewhere out of town for a few days, that they might be sure not to meet.
My greatest concern was where we should go. At last I fixed upon
North Hall ; not, I said, that I would drink the waters, but that I thought
the air was good, and might be for my advantage. He, who did everything
upon the foundation of obliging me, readily came into it, and the coach
was appointed to be ready the next morning; but, as we were settling
matters, he put in an ugly word that thwarted all my design, and that
was, that he had rather I would stay till afternoon, for that he should
speak to the captain the next morning, if he could, to give him some
letters, which he could do, and be back again about twelve o'clock.
372 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I said, 'Ay, by all means.' But it was but a cheat on him, and my
voice and my heart differed ; for I resolved, if possible, he should not come
near the captain, nor see him, whatever came of it.
In the evening, therefore, a little before we went to bed, I pretended to
have altered my mind, and that I would not go to North Hall, but I had
a mind to go another way, but I told him I was afraid his business would
not permit him. He wanted to know where it was. I told him, smiling,
I would not tell him, lest it should oblige him to hinder his business.
He answered with the same temper, but with infinitely more sincerity, that
he had no business of so much consequence as to hinder him going with
me anywhere that I had a mind to go. 'Yes', says I, 'you want to speak
with the captain before he goes away.' ' Why, that's true ', says he, ' so
I do ' ; and paused awhile ; and then added, ' but I'll write a note to a man
that does business for me to go to him ; 'tis only to get some bills of
loading signed, and he can do it.' When I saw I had gained my point,
I seemed to hang back a little. 'My dear', says I, 'don't hinder an hour's
business for me ; I can put it off for a week or two rather than you shall
do yourself any prejudice.' 'No, no', says he; 'you shall not put it off
an hour for me, for I can do my business by proxy with anybody but my
wife.' And then he took me in his arms and kissed me. How did my
blood flush up into my face when I reflected how sincerely, how affection
ately, this good-humoured gentleman embraced the most cursed piece of
hypocrisy that ever came into the arms of an honest man ! His was all
tenderness, all kindness, and the utmost sincerity; mine all grimace and
deceit ; — a piece of mere manage and framed conduct, to conceal a past
life of wickedness, and prevent his discovering that he had in his arms a
she-devil, whose whole conversation for twenty-five years had been black
as hell, a complication of crime, and for which, had he been let into it,
he must have abhorred me and the very mention of my name. But there
was no help for me in it ; all I had to satisfy myself was, that it was my
business to be what I was, and conceal what I had been; that all the
satisfaction I could make him was to live virtuously for the time to come,
not being able to retrieve what had been in time past; and this I resolved
upon, though, had the great temptation offered, as it did afterwards, I had
reason to question my stability. But of that hereafter.
After my husband had kindly thus given up his measures to mine, we
resolved to set out in the morning early. I told him that my project, if
he liked it, was to go to Tunbridge, and he, being; entirely passive in the
thing, agreed to it with the greatest willingness; but said, if I had not
named Tunbridge, he would have named Newmarket, there being a great
court there, and abundance of fine things to be seen. I offered him another
piece of hypocrisy here, for I pretended to be willing to go thither, as the
place of his choice, but indeed I would not have gone for a thousand
pounds ; for the court being there at that time, I durst not run the hazard
of being known at a place where there were so many eyes that had seen
me before. So that, after some time, I told my husband that I thought
Newmarket was so full of people at that time, that we should get no
accommodation ; that seeing the court and the crowd was no entertainment
at all to me, unless as it might be so to him, that, if he thought fit, we
would rather put it off to another time; and that if, when we went to
Holland, we should go by Harwich, we might take a round by Newmarket
and Bury, and so come down to Ipswich, and go from thence to the
THE UFE OF ROXANA 373
seaside. He was easily put off from this, as he was from anything else
that I did not approve; and so, with all imaginable facility, he appointed
to be ready early in the morning, to go with me for Tunbridge.
I had a double design in this, viz. first, to get away my spouse from
seeing the captain any more; and, secondly, to be out of the way myself,
in case this impertinent girl, who was now my plague, should offer to
come again, as my friend the Quaker believed she would, and as indeed
happened within two or three days afterwards.
Having thus secured my going away the next day, I had nothing to do
but to furnish my faithful agent the Quaker with some instructions what
to say to this tormentor (for such she proved afterwards), and how to
manage her, if she made any more visits than ordinary.
I had a great mind to leave Amy behind too, as an assistant, because
she understood so perfectly well what to advise upon any emergence; and
Amy importuned me to do so. But I know not what secret impulse pre
vailed over my thoughts against it ; I could not do it, for fear the wicked
jade should make her away, which my very soul abhorred the thoughts
of; which, however, Amy found means to bring to pass afterwards, as I
may in time relate more particularly.
It is true, I wanted as much to be delivered from her as ever a sick man
did from a third-day ague ; and, had she dropped into the grave by any fair
way, as I may call it, I mean, had she died by any ordinary distemper,
I should have shed but very few tears for her. But I was not arrived to
such a pitch of obstinate wickedness as to commit murder, especially such
as to murder my own child, or so much as to harbour a thought so bar
barous in my mind. But, as I said, Amy effected all afterwards without
my knowledge, for which I gave her my hearty curse, though 1 could do
little more ; for to have fallen upon Amy had been to have murdered
myself. But this tragedy requires a longer story than I have room for
here. I return to my journey.
My dear friend the Quaker was kind, and yet honest, and would do
anything that was just and upright to serve me, but nothing wicked or
dishonourable. That she might be able to say boldly to the creature, if
she came, she did not know where I was gone, she desired I would not
let her know ; and to make her ignorance the more absolutely safe to herself,
and likewise to me, I allowed her to say that she heard us talk of going
to Newmarket, etc. She liked that part, and I left all the rest to her, to
act as she thought fit; only charged her, that if the girl entered into the
story of the Pall Mall, she should not entertain much talk about it, but
let her understand that we all thought she spoke of it a little too parti
cularly; and that the lady (meaning me) took it a little ill to be so likened
to a public mistress, or a stage-player, and the like; and so to bring her,
if possible, to say no more of it. However, though I did not tell my friend
the Quaker how to write to me, or where I was, yet I left a sealed paper
with her maid to give her, in which I gave her a direction how to write
to Amy, and so, in effect, to myself.
It was but a few days after I was gone, but the impatient girl came to
my lodgings on pretence to see how I did, and to hear if I intended to
go the voyage, and the like. My trusty agent was at home, and received
her coldly at the door ; but told her that the lady, which she supposed she
meant, was gone from her house.
This was a full stop to all she could say for a good while; but as she
374 THE LIFB OF ROXANA
stood musing some time at the door, considering what to begfn a In tic
npon, she perceived my friend the Quaker looked a little uneasy, as if she
wanted to go in and shut the door, which stung her to the quick ; and
the wary Quaker had not so much as asked her to come in; for seeing
her alone she expected she would be very impertinent, and concluded that
I did not care how coldly she received her.
But she was not to be put off so. She said if the Lady was not
to be spoken with, she desired to speak two or three words with her,
meaning my friend the Quaker. Upon that, the Quaker civilly but coldly
asked her to walk in, which was what she wanted. Note. — She did not
carry her into her best parlour, as formerly, but into a little outer room,
where the servants usually waited.
By the first of her discourse she did not stick to insinuate as if she
believed I was in the house, but was unwilling to be seen; and pressed
earnestly that she might speak but two words with me; to which she
added earnest entreaties, and at last tears.
*I am sorry', says my good creature the Quaker, 'thou hast so ill an
opinion of me as to think I would tell thee an untruth, and say that the
Lady was gone from my house if she was not! I assure thee I do
not use any such method; nor does the Lady desire any such kind
of service from me, as I know of. If she had been in the house, I should
have told thee so.'
She said li ttle to that, but said it was business of the utmost importance
that she desired to speak with me about, and then cried again very much.
'Thou seem'st to be sorely afflicted', says the Quaker; 'I wish I could
give thee any relief; but if nothing will comfort thee but seeing the
Lady • , it is not in my power.' ' I hope it is ', says she again ; ' to be
sure it is of great consequence to me, so much that I am undone
without it.'
'Thou troubles! me very much to hear thee say so', says the Quaker;
'but why, then, didst thou not speak to her apart when thou wast here
before ? ' 'I had no opportunity ', says she, ' to speak to her alone, and I
could not do it in company; if I could have spoken but two words
to her alone, I would have thrown myself at her foot, and asked her
blessing.'
'I am surprised at thee; I do not understand thee', says the Quaker.
'Oh!', says she, 'stand my friend if you have any charity, or if you have
any compassion for the miserable; for I am utterly undone!'
' Thou terrifiest me ', says the Quaker, ' with such passionate expressions,
for verily I cannot comprehend thee I ' ' Oh I ', says she, ' she is my mother !
She is my mother ! and she does not own me ! '
' Thy mother ! ' says the Quaker, and began to be greatly moved indeed.
'I am astonished at thee: what dost thou mean?' 'I mean nothing but
what I say', says she. 'I say again, she is my mother, and will not own
me ' ; and with that she stopped with a flood of tears.
'Not own theel' says the Quaker; and the tender, good creature wept
too. 'Why', says she, 'she does not know thee, and never saw thee be
fore.' 'No', says the girl, 'I believe she does not know me, but I know
her ; and I know that she is my mother.'
' It's impossible, thou talk'st mystery I ' says the Quaker ; ' wilt thou
explain thyself a little to me ? ' ' Yes, yes ', says she, ' I can explain it well
enough. I am sure she is my mother, and I have broke my heart to
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 375
search for her; and now to lose her again, when I was so sure I had
found her, will break my heart more effectually.'
'Well, but if she be thy mother', says the Quaker, 'how can it be that
she should not know thee?' 'Alas!', says she, 'I have been lost to her
ever since I was a child; she has never seen me.'
'And hast thou never seen her?' says the Quaker. 'Yes', says she; 'I
have seen her; often enough I saw her; for when she was the Lady Roxana
I was her housemaid, being a servant, but I did not know her then, nor
she me; but it has all come out since. Has she not a maid named Amy?'
Note — The honest Quaker was nonplussed, and greatly surprised at that
question.
'Truly', says she, 'the Lady has several women servants, but I do
not know all their names.' ' But her woman, her favourite ' adds the girl ;
'is not her name Amy?'
' Why, truly ', says the Quaker, with a very happy turn of wit, ' I do not
like to be examined; but lest thou shouldest take up any mistakes by
reason of my backwardness to speak, I will answer thee for once, that
what her woman's name is I know not, but they call her Cherry.'
N.B. — My husband gave her that name in jest on our wedding-day, and
we had called her by it ever after; so that she spoke literally true at
that time.
The girl replied very modestly that she was sorry if she gave her any
offence in asking; that she did not design to be rude to her, or pretend
to examine her; but that she was in such an agony at this disaster that
she knew not what she did or said; and that she should be very sorry to
disoblige her, but begged of her again, as she was a Christian and a
woman, and had been a mother of children, that she would take pity on
her, and, if possible, assist her, so that she might but come to me and
speak a few words to me.
The tender-hearted Quaker told me the girl spoke this with such moving
eloquence that it forced tears from her; but she was obliged to say that
she neither knew where I was gone or how to write to me; but that, if
she did ever see me again, she would not fail to give me an account of
all she had said to her, or that she should yet think fit to say, and to take
my answer to it, if I thought fit to give any.
Then the Quaker took the freedom to ask a few particulars about this
wonderful story, as she called it; at which the girl, beginning at the first
distresses of my life, and indeed of her own, went through all the history
of her miserable education, her service under the Lady Roxana, as she
called me, and her relief by Mrs Amy, with the reasons she had to believe
that, as Amy owned herself to be the same that lived with her mother,
and especially that Amy was the Lady Roxana's maid too, and came out
of France with her, she was by those circumstances, and several others in
her conversation, as fully convinced that the Lady Roxana was her mother,
as she was that the Lady at her house (the Quaker's) was the very
same Roxana that she had been servant to.
My good friend the Quaker, though terribly shocked at the story, and
not well knowing what to say, yet was too much try friend to seem con
vinced in a thing which she did not know to be true, and which, if it
was true, she could see plainly I had a mind should not be known ; so
she turned her discourse to argue the girl out of it. She insisted upon
the slender evidence she had of the fact itself, and the rudeness of claiming
376 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
so near a relation of one so much above her, and of whose concern In it
she had no knowledge, at least no sufficient proof; that, as the lady at her
house was a person above any disguises, so she could not believe that
she would deny her being her daughter, if she was really her mother;
that she was able sufficiently to have provided for her if she had not a
mind to have her known ; and, therefore, seeing she had heard all she had
said of the Lady Roxana, and was so far from owning herself to be the
person, so she had censured that sham lady as a cheat and a common
woman; and that 'twas certain she could never be brought to own a name
and character she had so justly exposed.
Besides, she told her that her lodger, meaning me, was not a sham lady,
but the real wife of a knight-baronet; and that she knew her to be honestly
such, and far above such a person as she had described. She then added
that she had another reason why it was not very possible to be true.
•And that is', says she, 'thy age is in the way; for thou acknowledgest
that thou art four-and-twenty years old, and that thou wast the youngest
of three of thy mother's children; so that, by thy account, thy mother must
be extremely young, or this lady cannot be thy mother; for thou seest',
says she, 'and any one may see, she is but a young woman now, and
cannot be supposed to be above forty years old, if she is so much; and
is now big with child at her going into the country ; so that I cannot give
any credit to thy notion of her being thy mother; and if I might counsel
thee, it should be to give over that thought, as an improbable story that
does but serve to disorder thee, and disturb thy head; for', added she,
'I perceive thou art much disturbed indeed.'
But this was all nothing ; she could be satisfied with nothing but seeing
me ; but the Quaker defended herself very well, and insisted on it that she
could not give her any account of me; and, rinding her still importunate,
she affected at last being a little disgusted that she should not believe her,
and added, that indeed, if she had known where I was gone, she would
not have given any one an account of it, unless I had given her orders
to do so. 'But seeing she has not acquainted me', says she, 'where she
has gone, 'tis an intimation to me she was not desirous it should be
publicly known'; and with this she rose up, which was as plain a desiring
her to rise up too and begone as could be expressed, except the downright
showing her the door.
Well, the girl rejected all this, and told her she could not indeed expect
that she (the Quaker) should be affected with the story she had told her,
however moving, or that she should take any pity on her. That it was
her misfortune, that when she was at the house before, and in the room
with me, she did not beg to speak a word with me in private, or throw
herself upon the floor at my feet, and claim what the affection of a mother
would have done for her; but since she had slipped her opportunity, she
would wait for another; that she found by her (the Quaker's) talk, that
she had not quite left her lodgings, but was gone into the country, she
supposed for the air; and she was resolved she would take so much
knight-errantry upon her, that she would visit all the airing-places in the
nation, and even all the kingdom over, ay, and Holland too, but she would
find me; for she was satisfied she could so convince me that she was my
own child, that I would not deny it; and she was sure I was so tender
and compassionate, I would not let her perish after I was convinced that
she was my own flesh and blood; and, in saying she would visit all the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 377
airing-places in England, she reckoned them all up by name, and began
with Tunbridge, the very place I was gone to ; then reckoning up Epsom,
North Hall, Barnet, Newmarket, Bury, and at last, the Bath; and with
this she took her leave.
My faithful agent, the Quaker, failed not to write to me immediately ; but
as she was a cunning as well as an honest woman, it presently occurred
to her that this was a story which, whether true or false, was not very
fit to come to my husband's knowledge; that as she did not know what
I might have been, or might have been called in former times, and how
far there might have been something or nothing in it, so she thought if it
was a secret I ought to have the telling it myself; and, if it was not, it
might as well be public afterwards as now; and that, at least, she ought
to leave it where she found it, and not hand it forwards to anybody
without my consent. These prudent measures were inexpressibly kind, as
well as seasonable; for it had been likely enough that her letter might
have come publicly to me, and, though my husband would not have opened
it, yet it would have looked a little odd that I should conceal its contents
from him, when I had pretended so much to communicate all my affairs.
In consequence of this wise caution, my good friend only wrote me in
few words, that the impertinent young woman had been with her, as she
expected she would; and that she thought it would be very convenient
that, if I could spare Cherry, I would send her up (meaning Amy) because
she found there might be some occasion for her.
As it happened, this letter was enclosed to Amy herself, and not sent
by the way I had at first ordered; but it came safe to my hands; and
though I was alarmed a little at it, yet I was not acquainted with the
danger I was in of an immediate visit from this teasing creature till
afterwards ; and I ran a greater risk, indeed, than ordinary, in that I did
not send Amy up under thirteen or fourteen days, believing myself as much
concealed at Tunbridge as if I had been at Vienna.
But the concern of my faithful spy ( for such my Quaker was now, upon
the mere foot of her own sagacity), I say her concern for me, was my
safety in this exigence, when I was, as it were, keeping no guard for
myself, for, finding Amy not come up, and that she did not know how
soon this wild thing might put her designed ramble in practice, she sent
a messenger to the captain's wife's house, where she lodged, to tell her
that she wanted to speak with her. She was at the heels of the messenger,
and came eager for some news ; and hoped, she said, the lady ( meaning
me) had been come to town.
The Quaker, with as much caution as she was mistress of, not to tell
a downright lie, made her believe she expected to hear of me very quickly;
and frequently, by the by, speaking of being abroad to take the air, talked
of the country about Bury, how pleasant it was, how wholesome, and how
fine an air; how the downs about Newmaiket were exceeding fine, and
what a vast deal of company there was, now the court was there; till at
last, the girl began to conclude that my ladyship was gone thither; for,
she said, she knew I loved to see a great deal of company.
'Nay', says my friend, 'thou takest me wrong; I did not suggest', says
she, 'that the person thou inquirest after is gone thither, neither do I
believe she is, I assure thee.' Well, the girl smiled, and let her know
that she believed it for all that; so, to clench it fast, 'Verily', says she,
with great seriousness, 'thou dost not do well, for thou suspectest every
378 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
thing and believest nothing. I speak solemnly to thee that I do not believe
they are gone that way; so if thou givest thyself the trouble to go that
way, and art disappointed, do not say that I have deceived thee.' She
knew well enough that if this did abate her suspicion it would not remove
it, and that it would do little more than amuse her ; but by this she kept
her in suspense till Amy came up, and that was enough.
When Amy came up, she was quite confounded to hear the relation
which the Quaker gave her, and found means to acquaint me of it; only
letting me know, to my great satisfaction, that she would not come to
Tunbridge first, but that she would certainly go to Newmarket or Bury first.
However, it gave me very great uneasiness; for as she resolved to ramble
in search after rne over the whole country, I was safe nowhere, no, not
in Holland itself. So, indeed, I did not know what to do with her; and
thus I had a bitter in all my sweet, for I was continually perplexed with
this hussy, and thought she haunted me like an evil spirit.
In the meantime Amy was next door to stark-mad about her; she durst
not see her at my lodgings for her life ; and she went days without number
to Spitalfields, where she used to come, and to her former lodging, and
could never meet with her. At length she took up a mad resolution that
she would go directly to the captain's house in Redriff and speak with
her. It was a mad step, that's true; but, as Amy said, she was mad, so
nothing she could do could be otherwise. For if Amy had found her at
Redriff, she (the girl) would have concluded presently that the Quaker
had given her notice, and so that we were all of a knot; and that, in
short, all she had said was right. But, as it happened, things came to hit
better than we expected ; for that Amy, going out of a coach to take water
at Tower Wharf, meets the girl just come on shore, having crossed the
water from Redriff. Amy made as if she would have passed by her,
though they met so full that she did not pretend she did not see her,
for she looked fairly upon her first, but then turning her head away with
a slight, offered to go from her; but the girl stopped, and spoke first, and
made some manners to her.
Amy spoke coldly to her, and a little angry 5 and after some words,
standing in the street or passage, the girl saying she seemed to be angry,
and would not have spoken to her, 'Why', says Amy, how can you expect
I should have any more to say to you, after I had done so much for
you, and you have behaved so to me?' The girl seemed to take no
notice of that now, but answered, 'I was going to wait on you now.'
'Wait on me!' says Amy; 'what do you mean by that?' 'Why', says
she again, with a kind of familiarity, 'I was going to your lodgings.
Amy was provoked to the last degree at her, and yet she thought it
was not her time to resent, because she had a more fatal and wicked
design in her head against her; which, indeed, I never knew till after it
was executed, nor durst Amy ever communicate it to me; for, as I had
always expressed myself vehemently against hurting a hair of her head,
so she was resolved to take her own measures without consulting me
any more.
In order to this, Amy gave her good words, and concealed her resentment
as much as she could ; and when she talked of going to her lodging, Amy
smiled and said nothing, but called for a pair of oars to go to Greenwich;
and asked her, seeing she said she was going to her lodging, to go along
with her, for she was going home, and was all alone.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 379
Amy did this with such a stock of assurance that the girl was confounded,
and knew not what to say; but the more she hesitated, the more Amy
pressed her to go ; and, talking very kindly to her, told her if she did not
go to see her lodgings she might go to keep her company, and she would
pay a boat to bring her back again; so, in a word, Amy prevailed on her
to go into the boat with her, and carried her down to Greenwich.
Tis certain that Amy had no more business at Greenwich than I had,
nor was she going thither ; but we were all hampered to the last degree
with the impertinence of this creature; and, in particular, I was horribly
perplexed with it.
As they were in the boat, Amy began to reproach her with ingratitude
in treating her so rudely who had done so much for her, and been so
kind to her; and to ask her what she had got by it, or what she expected
to get. Then came in my share, the Lady Roxana. Amy jested with
that, and bantered her a little, and asked her if she had found her yet.
But Amy was both surprised and enraged when the girl told her roundly
that she thanked her for what she had done for her, but that she would
not have her think she was so ignorant as not to know that what she
(Amy) had done was by her mother's order, and who she was beholden
to for it. That she could never make instruments pass for principals, and
pay the debt to the agent when the obligation was all to the original.
That she knew well enough who she was, and who she was employed
by. That she knew the Lady very well (naming the name that I
now went by), which was my husband's true name, and by which she
might know whether she had found out her mother or no.
Amy wished her at the bottom of the Thames; and had there been no
watermen in the boat, and nobody in sight, she swore to me she would have
thrown her into the river. I was horribly disturbed when she told me this
story, and began to think this would, at last, all end in my ruin ; but, when
Amy spoke of throwing her into the river and drowning her, I was so provoked
at her that all my rage turned against Amy, and I fell thoroughly out
with her. I had now kept Amy almost thirty years, and found her on all
occasions the faithfullest creature to me that ever woman had — I say,
faithful to me; for, however wicked she was, still she was true to me; and
even this rage of hers was all upon my account, and for fear any mischief
should befall me.
But be that how it would, I could not bear the mention of her murdering
the poor girl, and it put me so beside myself, that I rose up in a rage,
and bade her get out of my sight, and out of my house; told her I had
kept her too long, and that I would never see her face more. I had
before told her that she was a murderer, and a bloody-minded creature;
that she could not but know that I could not bear the thought of it,
much less the mention of it; and that it was the impudentest thing that
ever was known to make such a proposal to me, when she knew that I
was really the mother of this girl, and that she was my own child; that
it was wicked enough in her, but that she must conclude I was ten times
wickeder than herself if I could come into it; that the girl was in the
right, and I had nothing to blame her for; but that it was owing to the
wickedness of my life that made it necessary for me to keep her from a
discovery ; but that I would not murder my child, though I was otherwise
to be ruined by it. Amy replied, somewhat rough and short, Would I
not? — but she would, she said, if she had an opportunity; and upon these
380 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
words it was that I bade her get out of my sight and out of my house;
and it went so far, that Amy packed up her alls, and marched off, and was
gone for almost good and all. But of that in its order; I must go back
to her relation of the voyage which they made to Greenwich together.
They held on the wrangle all the way by water; the girl insisted upon
her knowing that I was her mother, and told her all the history of my
life in the Pall Mall, as well after her being turned away as before, and
of my marriage since; and, which was worse, not only who my present
husband was, but where he had lived, viz. at Rouen in France. She knew
nothing of Paris, or of where we was going to live, namely, at Nimeguen;
but told her in so many words that if she could not find me here, she
would go to Holland after me.
They landed at Greenwich, and Amy carried her into the park with her,
and they walked above two hours there, in the farthest and remotest walks ;
which Amy did because, as they talked with great heat, it was apparent
they were quarrelling, and the people took notice of it.
They walked till they came almost to the wilderness at the south side
of the park; but the girl, perceiving Amy offered to go in there among
the woods and trees, stopped short there, and would go no further; but
said she would not go in there.
Amy smiled, and asked her what was the matter? She replied, short,
she did not know where she was, nor where she was going to carry her,
and she would go no farther ; and, without any more ceremony, turns back,
and walks apace away from her. Amy owned she was surprised, and came
back too, and called to her, upon which the girl stopped, and Amy coming
up to her, asked her what she meant?
The girl boldly replied, she did not know but she might murder her;
and that, in short, she would not trust herself with her, and never would
come into her company again alone.
It was very provoking, but, however, Amy kept her temper with much
difficulty, and bore it, knowing that much might depend upon it; so she
mocked her foolish jealousy, and told her she need not be uneasy for her,
she would do her no harm, and would have done her good if she would
have let her; but, since she was of such a refractory humour, she should
not trouble herself, for she should never come into her company again;
and that neither she, or her brother or sister, should ever hear from her or
see her any more; and so she should have the satisfaction of being the
ruin of her brother and sisters as well as of herself.
The girl seemed a little mollified at that, and said that, for herself, she
knew the worst of it, she could seek her fortune; but it was hard her
brother and sister should suffer on her score; and said something that was
tender and well enough on that account. But Amy told her it was for
her to take that into consideration; for she would let her see that it was
all her own; that she would have done them all good, but that, having
been used thus, she would do no more for any of them; and that she
should not need to be afraid to come into her company again, for she
would never give her occasion for it any more. This, by the way, was
false in the girl too : for she did venture into Amy's company again after
that, once too much, as I shall relate by itself.
They grew cooler, however, afterwards, and Amy carried her into a
house at Greenwich, where she was acquainted, and took an occasion to
leave the girl in a room awhile, to speak to the people in the house, and
THE LITE OF ROXANA 381
so prepare them to own her as a lodger in the house ; and then, going in
to her again, told her there she lodged, if she had a mind to find her
out, or if anybody else had anything to say to her. And so Amy dismissed
her, and got rid of her again ; and finding an empty hackney-coach in the
town, came away by land to London, and the girl, going down to the
water-side, came by boat.
This conversation did not answer Amy's end at all, because it did not
secure the girl from pursuing her design of hunting me out; and, though
my indefatigable friend the Quaker amused her three or four days, yet I
had such notice of it at last, that I thought fit to come away from Tun-
bridge upon it. And where to go I knew not; but, in short, I went to a
little village upon Epping Forest, called Woodford, and took lodgings in
a private house, where I lived retired about six weeks, till I thought she
might be tired of her search, and have given me over.
Here I received an account from my trusty Quaker that the wench had
really been at Tunbridge, had found out my lodgings, and had told her
tale there in a most dismal tone ; that she had followed us, as she thought,
to London ; but the Quaker had answered her that she knew nothing of it,
which was indeed true ; and had admonished her to be easy, and not hunt
after people of such fashion as we were, as if we were thieves; that she
might be assured, that, since I was not willing to see her, I would not be
forced to it; and treating me thus would effectually disoblige me. And
with such discourses as these she quieted her; and she (the Quaker) added
that she hoped I should not be troubled much more with her.
It was in this time that Amy gave me the history of her Greenwich
voyage, when she spoke of drowning and killing the girl in so serious a
manner, and with such an apparent resolution of doing it, that, as I said,
put me in a rage with her, so that I effectually turned her away from me,
as I have said above, and she was gone; nor did she so much as tell me
whither or which way she was gone. On the other hand, when I came
to reflect on it, that now I had neither assistant or confidant to speak to,
or receive the least information from, my friend the Quaker excepted, it
made me very uneasy.
I waited, and expected, and wondered, from day to day, still thinking
Amy would one time or other think a little and come again, or at least
let me hear of her; but for ten days together I heard nothing of her. J
was so impatient that I got neither rest by day or sleep by night, and
what to do I knew not, I durst not go to town to the Quaker's for fear
of meeting that vexatious creature, my girl, and I could get no intelligence
where I was ; so I got my spouse, upon pretence of wanting her company,
to take the coach one day and fetch my good Quaker to me.
When I had her, I durst ask her no questions, nor hardly knew which
end of the business to begin to talk of; but of her own accord she told
me that the girl had been three or four times, haunting her for news from
me; and that she had been so troublesome that she had been obliged to
show herself a little angry with her; and at last told her plainly that she
need give herself no trouble in searching after me by her means, for she
(the Quaker) would not tell her if she knew; upon which she refrained
awhile. But, on the other hand, she told me it was not safe for me to
send my own coach for her to come in, for she had some reason to be
lieve that she (my daughter) watched her door night and day; nay, and
watched her too every time she went in and out; for she was so beat
382 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
upon a discovery that she spared no pains, and she believed she had taken
a lodging very near their house for that purpose.
I could hardly give her a hearing of all this for my eagerness to ask
for Amy; but I was confounded when she told me she had heard nothing
of her. It is impossible to express the anxious thoughts that rolled about
in my mind, and continually perplexed me about her; particularly I
reproached myself with my rashness in turning away so faithful a creature
that for so many years had not only been a servant but an agent; and not
only an agent, but a friend, and a faithful friend too.
Then I considered too, that Amy knew all the secret history of my life ;
had been in all the intrigues of it, and been a party in both evil and
good; and at best there was no policy in it; that, as it was very ungenerous
and unkind to run things to such an extremity with her, and for an occa
sion, too, in which all the fault she was guilty of was owing to her ex
cessive care for my safety, so it must be only her steady kindness to me,
and an excess of generous friendship for me, that should keep her from
ill-using me in return for it ; which ill-using me was enough in her power,
and might be my utter undoing.
These thoughts perplexed me exceedingly, and what course to take I
really did not know. I began, indeed, to give Amy quite over, for she
had now been gone above a fortnight, and, as she had taken away all her
clothes, and her money too, which was not a little, and so had no occa
sion of that kind to come any more, so she had not left any word
where she was gone, or to which part of the world I might send to hear
of her.
And I was troubled on another account too, viz., that my spouse, and
I too, had resolved to do very handsomely for Amy, without considering
what she might have got another way at all; but we had said nothing of
it to her, and so I thought, as she had not known what was likely to fall
in her way, she had not the influence of that expectation to make her
come back.
Upon the whole, the perplexity of this girl, who hunted me as if, like
a hound, she had had a hot scent, but was now at a fault, I say, that
perplexity, and this other part of Amy being gone, issued in this — 1
resolved to be gone, and go over to Holland ; there, I believed, I should
be at rest. So I took occasion one day to tell my spouse that I was
afraid he might take it ill that I had amused him thus long, and that, at
last, I doubted I was not with child ; and that, since it was so, our things
being packed up, and all in order for going to Holland, I would go away
now when he pleased.
My spouse, who was perfectly easy whether in going or staying, left it
all entirely to me; so I considered of it, and began to prepare again for
my voyage. But, alas! I was irresolute to the last degree. I was, for
want of Amy, destitute; I had lost my right hand; she was my steward,
gathered in my rents (I mean my interest money) and kept my accounts,
and, in a word, did all my business; and without her, indeed, I knew not
how to go away nor how to stay. But an accident thrust itself in here,
and that even in Amy's conduct too, which frighted me away, and without
her too, in the utmost horror and confusion.
I have related how my faithful friend the Quaker was come to me, and
what account she gave me of her being continually haunted by my daughter;
and that, as she said, she watched her very door night and day. The
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 383
truth was, she had set a spy to watch so effectually, that she (the Quaker)
neither went in or out but she had notice of it.
This was too evident when, the next morning after she came to me
(for I kept her all night), to my unspeakable surprise I saw a hackney-
coach stop at the door where I lodged, and saw her (my daughter) in
the coach all alone. It was a very good chance, in the middle of a bad
one, that my husband had taken out the coach that very morning, and was
gone to London, As for me, I had neither life or soul left in me; I was
so confounded I knew not what to do or to say.
My happy visitor had more presence of mind than I, and asked me if
I had made no acquaintance among the neighbours. I told her, yes, there
was a lady lodged two doors off that I was very intimate with. 'But
hast thou no way out backward to go to her ? ' says she. Now it happened
there was a back-door in the garden, by which we usually went and came
to and from the house, so I told her of it. ' Well, well ', says she, ' go
out and make a visit then, and leave the rest to me.' Away I run, told
the lady (for I was very free there) that I was a widow to-day, my spouse
being gone to London, so I came not to visit her, but to dwell with her
that day, because also our landlady had got strangers come from London.
So having framed this orderly lie, I pulled some work out of my pocket,
and added I did not come to be idle.
As I went out one way, my friend the Quaker went the other to receive
this unwelcome guest. The girl made but little ceremony, but having bid
the coachman ring at the gate, gets down out of the coach and comes to
the door, a country girl going to the door (belonging to the house), for
the Quaker forbid any of my maids going. Madam asked for my Quaker
by name, and the girl asked her to walk in.
Upon this, my Quaker, seeing there was no hanging back, goes to her
immediately, but put all the gravity upon her countenance that she was
mistress of, and that was not a little indeed.
When she (the Quaker) came into the room (for they had showed my
daughter into a little parlour), she kept her grave countenance, but said
not a word, nor did my daughter speak a good while; but after some
time my girl began, and said, ' I suppose you know me, madam ? ' ' Yes ',
says the Quaker, 'I know thee.' And so the dialogue went on.
Girl. Then you know my business too?
Quaker. No, verily, I do not know any business thou canst have
here with me.
Girl. Indeed, my business is not chiefly with you.
Qu. Why, then, dost thou come after me thus far?
-. Girl. You know whom I seek. [And with that she cried.]
Qu. But why shouldst thou follow me for her, since thou know'st that
I assured thee more than once that I knew not where she was?
Girl. But I hoped you could.
Qu. Then thou must hope that I did not speak the truth, which would
be very wicked.
Girl. I doubt not but she is in this house.
Qu. If those be thy thoughts, thou may'st inquire in the house ; so thou
hast no more business with me. Farewell ! [ Offers to go. ]
Girl. I would not be uncivil; I beg you to let me see her.
Qu. I am here to visit some of my friends, and I think thou art not
very civil in following me hither.
384 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
Girl. I came in hopes of a discovery in my great affair which you
know of.
Qu. Thou cam'st wildly, indeed; I counsel thee to go back again, and
be easy ; I shall keep my word with thee, that I would not meddle in it,
or give thee any account, if I knew it, unless I had her orders.
Girl. If you knew my distress you could not be so cruel.
Qu. Thou hast told me all thy story, and I think it might be more
cruelty to tell thee than not to tell thee; for I understand she is resolved
not to see thee, and declares she is not thy mother. Will'st thou be owned
where thou hast no relation?
Girl. Oh, if I could but speak to her, I would prove my relation to
her, so that she could not deny it any longer.
Qu. Well, but thou canst not come to speak with her, it seems.
Girl. I hope you will tell me if she is here. I had a good account
that you were come out to see her, and that she sent for you.
Qu. I much wonder how thou couldst have such an account. If I had
come out to see her, thou hast happened to miss the house, for I assure
thee she is not to be found in this house.
Here the girl importuned her again with the utmost earnestness, and
cried bitterly, insomuch that my poor Quaker was softened with it, and
began to persuade me to consider of it, and, if it might consist with my
affairs, to see her, and hear what she had to say; but this was afterwards.
I return to the discourse.
The Quaker was perplexed with her a long time ; she talked of sending
back the coach, and lying in the town all night. This, my friend knew,
would be very uneasy to me, but she durst not speak a word against it;
but, on a sudden thought, she offered a bold stroke, which, though dangerous
if it had happened wrong, had its desired effect.
She told her that, as for dismissing her coach, that was as she pleased,
she believed she would not easily get a lodging in the town ; but that, as
she was in a strange place, she would so much befriend her, that she
would speak to the people of the house, that if they had room, she might
have a lodging there for one night, rather than be forced back to London
before she was free to go.
This was a cunning, though a dangerous step, and it succeeded accord
ingly, for it amused the creature entirely, and she presently concluded that
really I could not be there then, otherwise she would never have asked
her to lie in the house ; so she grew cold again presently as to her lodging
there, and said, No, since it was so, she would go back that afternoon,
but she would come again in two or three days, and search that and all
the towns round in an effectual manner, if she stayed a week or two to
do it j for, in short, if I was in England or Holland she would find me.
'In truth', says the Quaker, 'thou wilt make me very hurtful to thee,
then.' 'Why so?' says she. 'Because wherever I go, thou wilt put thyself
to great expense, and the country to a great deal of unnecessary trouble.'
'Not unnecessary', says she. 'Yes, truly', says the Quaker; 'it must be
unnecessary, because it will be to no purpose. I think I must abide in
my own house to save thee that charge and trouble.'
She said little to that, except that, she said, she would give her as
little trouble as possible; but she was afraid she should sometimes be
uneasy to her, which she hoped she would excuse. My Quaker told her
she would much rather excuse her if she would forbear j for that if she
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 385
would believe her, she would assure her she should never get any intelli
gence of me by her.
That set her into tears again; but after a while, recovering herself, she
told her perhaps she might be mistaken; and she (the Quaker) should
watch herself very narrowly, or she might one time or other get some
intelligence from her, whether she would or no ; and she was satisfied she
had gained some of her by this journey, for that if I was not in the house,
I was not far off; and if I did not remove very quickly, she would find
me out. 'Very well' says my Quaker; 'then if the lady is not willing to
see thee, thou givest me notice to tell her, that she may get out of thy way.'
She flew out in a rage at that, and told my friend that, if she did, a
curse would follow her, and her children after her, and denounced such
horrid things upon her as frighted the poor tender-hearted Quaker strangely,
and put her more out of temper than ever I saw her before; so that she
resolved to go home the next morning, and I, that was ten times more
uneasy than she, resolved to follow her, and go to London too; which,
however, upon second thoughts, I did not, but took effectual measures not
to be seen or owned if she came any more; but I heard no more of her
for some time.
I stayed there about a fortnight, and in all that time I heard no more
of her, or of my Quaker about her ; but, after about two days more, I had
a letter from my Quaker, intimating that she had something of moment
to say that she could not communicate by letter, but wished I would give
myself the trouble to come up, directing me to come with the coach into
Goodman's Fields, and then walk to her back-door on foot, which, being
left open on purpose, the watchful lady, if she had any spies, could not
well see me.
My thoughts had for so long time been kept, as it were, waking, that
almost everything gave me the alarm, and this especially, so that I was
very uneasy; but I could not bring matters to bear to make my coming
to London so clear to my husband as I would have done; for he liked
the place, and had a mind, he said, to stay a little longer, if it was not
against my inclination! so I wrote my friend the Quaker word that I
could not come to town yet; and that, besides, I could not think of being
there under spies, and afraid to look out of doors ; and so, in short, I put
off going for near a fortnight more.
At the end of that time she wrote again, in which she told me that she
had not lately seen the impertinent visitor which had been so trouble
some ; but that she had seen my trusty agent Amy, who told her she had
cried for six weeks without intermission ; that Amy had given her an
account how troublesome the creatnre had been, and to what straits and
perplexities I was driven by her hunting after, and following me, from place
to place; upon which Amy had said, that, notwithstanding I was angry
with her, and had used her so hardly for saying something about her of
the same kind, yet there was an absolute necessity of securing her, and
removing her out of the way ; and that, in short, without asking my leave,
or anybody's leave, she should take care she should trouble her mistress
(meaning me) no more; and that after Amy had said so, she had indeed
never heard any more of the girl; so that she supposed Amy had managed
it so well as to put an end to it.
The innocent, well-meaning creature, my Quaker, who was all kindness
and goodness in herself, and particularly to me, saw nothing in this; but
386
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
she thought Amy had found some way to persuade her to be quiet and
easy, and to give over teasing and following me, and rejoiced in it for
my sake; as she thought nothing of any evil herself, so she suspected
none in anybody else, and was exceeding glad of having such good news
to write to me; but rny thoughts of it run otherwise.
I was struck, as with a blast from heaven, at the reading her letter; I
fell into a fit of trembling from head to foot, and I ran raving about the
room like a mad woman. I had nobody to speak a word to, to give vent
to my passion ; nor did I speak a word for a good while, till after it had
almost overcome me. I threw myself on the bed, and cried out, 'Lord,
be merciful to me, she has murdered my child ! ' ; and with that a flood of
tears burst out, and I cried vehemently for above an hour.
My husband was very happily gone out a-hunting, so that I had the
opportunity of being alone, and to give my passions some vent, by which
I a little recovered myself. But, after my crying was over, then I fell in
a new rage at Amy; I called her a thousand devils and monsters and
hard-hearted tigers; I reproached her with her knowing that I abhorred it,
and had let her know it sufficiently, in that I had, as it were, kicked her
out of doors, after so many years' friendship and service, only for naming
it to me.
Well, after some time, my spouse came in from his sport, and I put on
the best looks I could to deceive him ; but he did not take so little notice
of me as not to see I had been crying, and that something troubled me,
and he pressed me to tell him. I seemed to bring it out with reluctance,
but told him my backwardness was more because I was ashamed that
such a trifle should have any effect upon me, than for any weight that
was in it; so I told him I had been vexing myself about my woman
Amy's not coming again; that she might have known me better than not
to believe I should have been friends with her again, and the like; and
that, in short, I had lost the best servant by my rashness that ever
woman had.
'Well, well', says he, 'if that be all your grief, I hope you will soon
shake it off; I'll warrant you, in a little while we shall hear of Mrs Amy
again.' And so it went off for that time. But it did not go off with me;
for I was uneasy and terrified to the last degree, and wanted to get some
farther account of the thing. So I went away to my sure and certain
comforter, the Quaker, and there I had the whole story of it; and the
good, innocent Quaker gave me joy of my being rid of such an unsuffer-
able tormentor.
'Rid of her! Ay', says I, 'if I was rid of her fairly and honourably;
but I don't know what Amy may have done. Sure, she ha'n't made her
away?' 'Oh fie!1 says my Quaker; 'how canst thou entertain such a
notion! No, no. -Made her away? Amy didn't talk like that; I dare say
thou may'st be easy in that ; Amy has nothing of that in her head, I dare
say', says she; and so threw it, as it were, out of my thoughts.
But it would not do; k run in my head continually; night and day I
could think of nothing else; and it fixed such a horror of the fact upon
my spirits, and such a detestation of Amy, who I looked upon as the
murderer, that, as for her, I believe, if I could have seen her, I should
certainly have sent her to Newgate, or to a worse place, upon suspicion;
indeed, I think I could have killed her with my own hands.
As for the poor girl herself, she was ever before my eyes; I saw her
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 387
by night and by day; she haunted my imagination, if she did not haunt
the house ; my fancy showed me her in a hundred shapes aud postures ;
sleeping or waking, she was with me. Sometimes I thought I saw her
with her throat cut; sometimes with her head cut, and her brains knocked
out; other times hanged up npon a beam; another time drowned in the
great pond at Camberwell. And all these appearances were terrifying to
the last degree ; and that, which was still worse, I could really hear nothing
of her; I sent to the captain's wife in Redriff, and she answered me, she
was gone to her relations in Spitalfields. I sent thither, and they said she
was there about three weeks ago, but that she went out in a coach with
the gentlewoman that used to be so kind to her, but whither she was
gone they knew not, for she had not been there since. I sent back
the messenger for a description of the woman she went out with;
and they described her so perfectly, that I knew it to be Amy, and none
but Amy.
I sent word again that Mrs Amy, who she went out with, left her in
two or three hours, and that they should search for her, for I had a reason
to fear she was murdered. This frighted them all intolerably. They be
lieved Amy had carried her to pay her a sum of money, and that some
body had watched her after her having received it, and had robbed and
murdered her,
I believed nothing of that part; but I believed, as it was, that whatever
was done, Amy had done it; and that, in short, Amy had made her away;
and I believed it the more, because Amy came no more near me, but
confirmed her guilt by her absence.
Upon the whole, I mourned thus for her for above a month ; but finding
Amy still come not near me, and that I must put my affairs in a posture
that I might go to Holland, I opened all my affairs to my dear trusty
friend the Quaker, and placed her, in matters of trust, in the room of
Amy ; and with a heavy, bleeding heart for my poor girl, I embarked with
my spouse, and all our equipage and goods, on board another Holland's
trader, not a packet-boat, and went over to Holland, where I arrived, as
I have said.
I must put in a caution, however, here, that you must not understand
me as if I let my friend the Quaker into any part of the secret history
of my former life; nor did I commit the grand reserved article of all to
her, viz., that I was really the girl's mother, and the Lady Roxana; there
was no need of that part being exposed ; and it was always a maxim with
me, that secrets should never be opened without evident utility. It could
be of no manner of use to me or her to communicate that part to her;
besides, she was too honest herself to make it safe to me; for, though she
loved me very sincerely, and it was plain by many circumstances that she
did so, yet she would not lie for me upon occasion, as Amy would, and
therefore it was not advisable on any terms to communicate that part ; for
if the girl, or any one else, should have come to her afterwards, and put
it home to her, whether she knew that I was the girl's mother or not, or
was the same as the Lady Roxana or not, she either would not have
denied it, or would have done it with so ill a grace, such blushing, such
hesitations and falterings in her answers, as would have put the matter
out of doubt, and betrayed herself and the secret too.
For this reason, I say, I did not discover anything of that kind to her;
but I placed her, as I have said, in Amy's stead in the other affairs of
338
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
receiving money, interests, rents, and the like, and she was as faithful as
Amy could be, and as diligent.
But there fell out a great difficulty here, which I knew not how to get
over; and this was, how to convey the usual supply of provision and
money to the uncle and the other sister, who depended, especially the
sister, upon the said supply for her support; and indeed, though Amy had
said rashly that she would not take any more notice of the sister, and
would leave her to perish, as above, yet it was neither in my nature, or
Amy's either, much less was it in my design; and therefore I resolved to
leave the management of what I had reserved for that work with my
faithful Quaker, but how to direct her to manage them was the great
difficulty.
Amy had told them in so many words that she was not their mother,
but that she was the maid Amy, that carried them to their aunt's; that
she and their mother went over to the East Indies to seek their fortune,
and that there good things had befallen them, and that their mother was
very rich and happy; that she (Amy) had married in the Indies, but being
now a widow, and resolving to come over to England, their mother had
obliged her to inquire them out, and do for them as she had done; and
that now she was resolved to go back to the Indies again; but that she
had orders from their mother to do very handsomely by them; and, in a
word, told them she had £, 2000 apiece for them, upon condition that they
proved sober, and married suitably to themselves, and did not throw
themselves away upon scoundrels.
The good family in whose care they had been, I had resolved to take
more than ordinary notice of; and Amy, by my order, had acquainted them
with it, and obliged my daughters to promise to submit to their govern
ment, as formerly, and to be ruled by the honest man as by a father and
counsellor; and engaged him to treat them as his children. And, to oblige
him effectually to take care of them, and to make his old age comfortable
both to him and his wife, who had been so good to the orphans, I had
ordered her to settle the other £2000, that is to say, the interest of it,
which was £120 a year, upon them, to be theirs for both their lives, but
to come to my two daughters after them. This was so just, and was so
prudently managed by Amy, that nothing she ever did for me pleased me
better. And in this posture, leaving my two daughters with their ancient
friend, and so coming away to me (as they thought to the East Indies),
she had prepared everything in order to her going over with me to Hol
land ; and in this posture that matter stood when that unhappy girl, who I
have said so much of, broke in upon all our measures, as you have heard,
and, by an obstinacy never to be conquered or pacified, either with threats
or persuasions, pursued her search after me (her mother) as I have said,
till she brought me even to the brink of destruction; and would, in all
probability, have traced me out at last, if Amy had not, by the violence
of her passion, and by a way which I had no knowledge of, and indeed
abhorred, put a stop to her, of which I cannot enter into the particulars here.
However, notwithstanding this, I could not think of going away and
leaving this work so unfinished as Amy had threatened to do, and for the
folly of one child to leave the other to starve, or to stop my determined
bounty to the good family I have mentioned. So, in a word, I committed
the finishing it all to my faithful friend the Quaker, to whom I communicated
as much of the whole story as was needful to empower her to perform
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
what Amy had promised, and to make her talk so much to th« purpose,
as one employed more remotely than Amy had been, needed to be.
To this purpose she had, first of all, a full possession of the money;
and went first to the honest man and his wife, and settled all the matter
with them; when she talked of Mrs Amy, she talked of her as one that
had been empowered by the mother of the girls in the Indies, but was
obliged to go back to the Indies, and had settled all sooner if she had
not been hindered by the obstinate humour of the other daughter; that
she had left instructions with her for the rest; but that the other had
affronted her so much that she was gone away without doing anything
for her; and that now, if anything was done, it must be by fresh orders
from the East Indies.
I need not say how punctually my new agent acted; but, which was
more, she brought the old man and his wife, and my other daughter,
several times to her house, by which I had an opportunity, being there
only as a lodger, and a stranger, to see my other girl, which I had never
done before, since she was a little child.
The day I contrived to see them, I was dressed up in a Quaker's habit,
and looked so like a Quaker, that it was impossible for them, who
had never seen me before, to suppose I had ever been anything else ; also
my way of talking was suitable enough to it, for I had learned that
long before.
I have not time here to take notice what a surprise it was to me to
see my child ; how it worked upon my affections ; with what infinite struggle
I mastered a strong inclination that I had to discover myself to her; how
the girl was the very counterpart of myself, only much handsomer; and
how sweetly and modestly she behaved ; how, on that occasion, I resolved
to do more for her than I had appointed by Amy, and the like.
It is enough to mention here, that, as the settling this affair made way
for my going on board, notwithstanding the absence of my old agent Amy,
so, however, I left some hints for Amy too, for I did not yet despair of
my hearing from her ; and that, if my good Quaker should ever see her
again, she should let her see them; wherein, particularly, ordering her to
leave the affair of Spitalfields just as I had done, in the hands of my
friend, she should come away to me; upon this condition, nevertheless,
that she gave full satisfaction to my friend the Quaker that she had not
murdered my child ; for if she had, I told her I would never see her face
more. However, notwithstanding this, she came over afterwards, without
giving my friend any of that satisfaction, or any account that she intended
to come over.
I can say no more now, but that, as above, being arrived in Holland,
with my spouse and his son, formerly mentioned, I appeared there with
all the splendour and equipage suitable to our new prospect, as I have
already observed.
Here, after some few years of flourishing and outwardly happy circum
stances, I fell into a dreadful course of calamities, and Amy also; the very
reverse of our former good days. The blast of Heaven seemed to follow
the injury done the poor girl by us both, and I was brought so low
again, that my repentance seemed to be only the consequence of my
misery, as my misery was of my crime.
* In resolving to go to Holland with my husband, and take possession
of the title of countess as soon as possible, I had a view of deceiving my
39O THE LIFE OF ROXANA
daughter, were she yet alive and seeking me out; for it seldom happens
that a nobleman, or his lady, are called by their surnames, and as she
was a stranger to our noble title, might have inquired at our next door
neighbours for Mr , the Dutch merchant, and not have been one jot
the wiser for her inquiry. So one evening, soon after this resolution,
as I and my husband were sitting together when supper was over, and
talking of several various scenes in life, I told him that, as there was no
likelihood of my being with child, as I had some reason to suspect I was
some time before, I was ready to go with him to any part of the world,
whenever he pleased. I said, that great part of my things were packed
up, and what was not would not be long about, and that I had little
occasion to buy any more clothes, linen, or jewels, whilst I was in England,
having a large quantity of the richest and best of everything by me already.
On saying these words, he took me in his arms, and told me that he
looked on what I had now spoken with so great an emphasis, to be my
settled resolution, and the fault should not lie on his side if it miscarried
being put in practice.
The next morning he went out to see some merchants, who had received
advice of the arrival of some shipping which had been in great danger
at sea, and whose insurance had run very high; and it was this interval
that gave me an opportunity of my coming to a final resolution. I now
told the Quaker, as she was sitting at work in her parlour, that we should
very speedily leave her, and, although she daily expected it, yet she was
really sorry to hear that we had come to a full determination; she said
abundance of fine things to me on the happiness of the life I did then,
and was going to live; believing, I suppose, that a countess could not
have a foul conscience ; but at that very instant, I would have, had it been
in my power, resigned husband, estate, title, and all the blessings she
fancied I had in the world, only for her real virtue, and the sweet peace
of mind, joined to a loving company of children, which she really possessed.
When my husband returned, he asked me at dinner if I persevered in
my resolution of leaving England; to which I answered in the affirmative.
•Well', says he, 'as all my affairs will not take up a week's time to settle,
1 will be ready to go from London with you in ten days' time.' We fixed
upon no particular place or abode, but in general concluded to go to
Dover, cross the Channel to Calais, and proceed from thence by easy
journeys to Paris, where, after staying about a week, we intended to go
through part of France, the Austrian Netherlands, and so on to Amsterdam,
Rotterdam, or the Hague, as we were to settle before we went from Paris.
As my husband did not care to venture all our fortune in one bottom, so
our goods, money, and plate were consigned to several merchants, who
had been his intimates many years, and he took notes of a prodigious
value in his pocket, besides what he gave me to take care of during our
journey. The last thing to be considered was, how we should go ourselves,
and what equipage we should take with us ; my thoughts were wholly
taken up about it some time; I knew I was going to be a countess, and
did not care to appear anything mean before I came to that honour; but,
on the other hand, if I left London in any public way, I might possibly
hear of inquiries after me in the road, that I had been acquainted with
before. At last I said we would discharge all our servants, except two
footmen, who should travel with us to Dover, and one maid to wait on
me, that had lived with me only since the retreat of Amy, and she was
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 39!
to go through, if she was willing; and, as to the carriage of us, a coach
should be hired for my husband, myself, and maid, and two horses were
to be hired for the footmen, who were to return with them to London.
When the Quaker had heard when and how we intended to go, she
begged, as there would be a spare seat in the coach, to accompany us as
far as Dover, which we both readily consented to; no woman could be a
better companion, neither was there any acquaintance that we loved better,
or could show more respect to us.
The morning before we set out, my husband sent for a master coachman
to know the price of a handsome coach, with six able horses, to go to
Dover. He inquired how many days we intended to be on the journey?
My husband said he would go but very easy, and chose to be three days
on the road ; that they should stay there two days, and be three more
returning to London, with a gentlewoman (meaning the Quaker) in it. The
coachman said it would be an eight days' journey, and he would have ten
guineas for it. My husband consented to pay him his demand, and he
received orders to be ready at the door by seven of the clock the next
morning: I was quite prepared to go, having no person to take leave of
but the Quaker, and she had desired to see us take the packet-boat at
Dover, before we parted with her; and the last night of my stay in London
was spent very agreeably with the Quaker and her family. My husband,
who stayed out later than usual, in taking his farewell of several merchants
of his acquaintance, came home about eleven o'clock, and drank a glass
or two of wine with us before we went to bed.
The next morning, the whole family got up about five o'clock, and I,
with my husband's consent, made each of the Quaker's daughters a present
of a diamond ring, valued at £20, and a guinea apiece to all the servants,
without exception. We all breakfasted together, and at the hour appointed
the coach and attendants came to the door; this drew several people about
it, who were all very inquisitive to know who was going into the country,
and, what is never forgot on such occasions, all the beggars in the neigh
bourhood were prepared to give us their benedictions in hopes of an alms.
When the coachmen had packed up what boxes were designed for our
use, we, namely, my husband, the Quaker, myself, and the waiting-maid,
all got into the coach, the footmen were mounted on horses behind, and
in this manner the coach, after I had given a guinea to one of the
Quaker's daughters equally to divide among the beggars at the door, drove
away from the house, and I took leave of my lodging in the Minories, as
well as of London.
At St George's Church, Sonthwark, we were met by three gentlemen on
horseback, who were merchants of my husband's acquaintance, and had
come out on purpose to go half a day's journey with us; and, as they
kept talking to us at the coach side, we went a good pace, and were very
merry together; we stopped at the best house of entertainment on
Shooter's Hill.
Here we stopped for about an hour, and drank some wine, and my
husband, whose chief study was how to please and divert me, caused me
to alight out of the coach; which the gentlemen who accompanied us ob
serving, alighted also. The waiter showed us upstairs into a large room,
whose window opened to our view a fine prospect of the river Thames,
which here, they say, forms one of the most beautiful meanders. It was
within an hour of high water, and such a number of ships coming in
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
under sail quite astonished as well as delighted me, insomuch that I could
not help breaking out into such-like expressions, 'My dear, what a fine
sight this is i I never saw the like before! Pray will they get to London
this tide ? ' At which the good-natured gentleman smiled, and said. ' Yes,
my dear; why, there is London, and as the wind is quite fair for them,
some of them will come to an anchor in about half-an-hour, and all within
an hour.'
I was so taken up with looking down the river that, till my husband
spoke, I had not once looked up the river; but when I did, and saw
London, the Monument, the cathedral church of St Paul, and the steeples
belonging to the several parish churches, I was transported into an ecstasy,
and could not refrain from saying, 'Sure that cannot be the place we are
now just come from, it must be further off, for that looks to be scarce
three miles off, and we have been three hours, by my watch, coming from our
lodgings in the Minories ! No, no, it is not London, it is some other place ! '
Upon which one of the gentlemen present offered to convince me that
the place I saw was London if I would go up to the top of the house,
and view it from the turret I accepted the offer, and I, my husband,
and the three gentlemen were conducted by the master of the house
upstairs into the turret. If I was delighted before with my prospect, I
was now ravished, for I was elevated above the room I was in before up
wards of thirty feet. I seemed a little dizzy, for the turret being a lantern,
and giving light all ways, for some time I thought myself suspended in
the airj but sitting down, and having eat a mouthful of biscuit and drank
a glass of sack, I soon recovered, and then the gentleman who had
undertaken to convince me that the place I was shown was really London,
thus began, after having drawn aside one of the windows.
'You see, my lady', says the gentleman, 'the greatest, the finest, the
richest, and the most populous city in the world, at least in Europe, as I
can assure your ladyship, upon my own knowledge, it deserves the
character I have given it.' 'But this, sir, will never convince me that the
place you now show me is London, though I have before heard that
London deserves the character you have with so much cordiality bestowed
upon it. And this I can testify, that London, in every particular you have
mentioned, greatly surpasses Paris, which is allowed by all historians and
travellers to be the second city in Europe.'
Here the gentleman, pulling out his pocket-glass, desired me to look
through it, which I did t and then he directed me to look full at St. Paul's,
and to make that the centre of my future observation, and thereupon he
promised me conviction.
Whilst I took my observation, I sat in a high clair, made for that pur
pose, with a convenience before you to hold the glass. I soon found the
cathedral, and then I could not help saying I have been several times up
to the stone gallery, but not quite so often up to the iron gallery. Then
I brought my eye to the Monument, and was obliged to confess I knew
it to be such. The gentleman then moved the glass and desired me to
look, which doing, I said, 'I think I see Whitehall and St. James's Park,
and I see also two great buildings like barns, but I do not know what
they are.' ' Oh ', says the gentleman, ' they are the Parliament House and
Westminster Abbey.' 'They may be so', said I; and, continuing looking,
I perceived the very house at Kensington which I had lived in some time;
but of that I took no notice, yet I found my colour come, to think what
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 393
a life of gaiety and wickedness I had lived. The gentleman, perceiving
my disorder, said, 'I am afraid I have tired your ladyship; I will make
but one remove, more easterly, and then I believe you will allow the place
we see to be London.'
He might have saved himself the trouble, for I was thoroughly con
vinced of my error; but, to give myself time to recover, and to hide my
confusion, I seemed not yet to be quite convinced. I looked, and the first
object that presented itself was Aldgate Church, which, though I confess
to my shame, I seldom saw the inside of it, yet I was well acquainted
with the outside, for many times my friend the Quaker and I had passed
and repassed by it when we used to go in the coach to take an airing.
I saw the church, or the steeple of the church, so plain, and knew it so
well, that I could not help saying, with some earnestness, ' My dear, I see
our church ; the church, I mean, belonging to our neighbourhood ; I am
sure it is Aldgate Church.' Then I saw the Tower, and all the shipping;
and, taking my eye from the glass, I thanked the gentleman for the
trouble I had given him, and said to him that I was fully convinced that
the place I saw was London, and that it was the very place we came
from that morning,
When we came to Sittingbourne, our servant soon brought us word that,
although we were at the best inn in the town, yet there was nothing in
the larder fit for our dinner. The landlord came in after him and began
to make excuses for his empty cupboard. He told us, withal, that if we
would please to stay, he would kill a calf, a sheep, a hog, or anything
we had a fancy to. We ordered him to kill a pig and some pigeons,
which, with a dish of fish, a cherry pie, and some pastry, made up a
tolerable dinner, We made up two pounds ten shillings, for we caused
the landlord, his wife, and two daughters, to dine with us, and help us
off with our wine. Our landlady and her two daughters, with a glass or
two given to the cook, managed two bottles of white wine. This operated
so strong upon one of the young wenches that, my spouse being gone
out into the yard, her tongue began to run; and, looking at me, she says
to her mother, 'La! mother, how much like the lady her ladyship is,'
speaking of me, ' the young woman who lodged here the other night, and
stayed here part of the next day, and then set forward for Canterbury,
described. The lady is the same person, I'm sure.'
This greatly alarmed me, and made me very uneasy, for I concluded
this young woman could be no other than my daughter, who was resolved
to find me out, whether I would or no. I desired the girl to describe the
young woman she mentioned, which she did, and I was convinced it was
my own daughter. I asked in what manner she travelled, and whether
she had any company. I was answered that she was on foot, and that
she had no company; but that she always travelled from place to place in
company; that her method was, when she came into any town, to go to
the best inns and inquire for the lady she sought; and then, when she had
satisfied herself that the lady, whom she called her mother, was not to
be found in that town or neighbourhood, she then begged the favour of
the landlady of the inn where she was, to put her into such a company
that she knew that she might go safe to the next town ; that this was the
manner of her proceeding at her house, and she believed she had practised
it ever since she set out from London; and she hoped to meet with her
mother, as she called her, uoon the road.
394 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I asked my landlady whether she described our coach and equipage, but
she said the young woman did not inquire concerning equipage, but only
described a lady, "so like your ladyship, that I have often, since I saw
your ladyship, took you to be the very person she was looking for."
Amidst the distractions of my mind, this afforded me some comfort,
that my daughter was not in the least acquainted with the manner in
which we travelled. My husband and the landlord returned, and that put
an end to the discourse.
I left this town with a heavy heart, feeling my daughter would infallibly
find me out at Canterbury; but, as good luck would have it, she had left
that city before we came thither, some time. I was very short in one
thing, that I had not asked my landlady at Sittingbourne how long it was
since my daughter was there. But when I came to Canterbury I was very
anxious and indefatigable in inquiring after my daughter, and I found that
she had been at the inn where we then were, and had inquired for me,
as I found by the description the people gave of myself.
Here I learnt my daughter had left Canterbury a week. This pleased
me; and I was determined to stay in Canterbury one day, to view the
cathedral, and see the antiquities of this metropolis.
As we had sixteen miles to our journey's end that night, for it was
near four o'clock before we got into our coach again, the coachman drove
with great speed, and at dusk in the evening we entered the west gate of
the city, and put up at an inn in High Street (near St Mary Bredman's
church ), which generally was filled with the best of company. The anxiety
of my mind, on finding myself pursued by this girl, and the fatigue of
my journey, had made me much out of order, my head ached, and I had
no stomach.
This made my husband (but he knew not the real occasion of my
illness) and the Quaker very uneasy, and they did all in their power to
persuade me to eat anything I could fancy.
At length the landlady of the inn, who perceived I was more disturbed
in my mind than sick, advised me to eat one poached egg, drink a glass
of sack, eat a toast, and go to bed, and she warranted, she said, I should
be well by the morning. This was immediately done; and I must acknow
ledge, that the sack and toast cheered me wonderfully, and I began to
take heart again; and my husband would have the coachman in after
supper, on purpose to divert me and the honest Quaker, who, poor
creature, seemed much more concerned at my misfortune than I was myself.
I went soon to bed, but for fear I should be worse in the night, two
maids of the inn were ordered to sit up in an adjoining chamber; the
Quaker and my waiting-maid lay in a bed in the same room, and my
husband by himself in another apartment.
While my maid was gone down on some necessary business, and
likewise to get me some burnt wine, which I was to drink going to bed,
or rather when I was just got into bed, the Quaker and I had the following
dialogue :
Quaker, The news thou heardest at Sittingbourne has disordered thee.
I am glad the young woman has been out of this place a week; she went
indeed for Dover; and when she comes there and canst not find thee, she
may go to Deal, and so miss of thee.
Roxana. What I most depend upon is, that, as we do not travel by
any particular name, but the general one of the baronet and his lady, and
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 395
the girl hafh no notion what sort of equipage we travelled with, it was
not easy to make a discovery of me, unless she accidentally, in her travels,
light upon you (meaning the Quaker), or upon me; either of which must
unavoidably blow the secret I had so long laboured to conceal.
Quaker. As thou intendest to stay here to-morrow, to see the things
which thou callest antiquities, and which are more properly named the
relics of the Whore of Babylon; suppose thou wert to send Thomas, who
at thy command folio weth after us, to the place called Dover, to inquire
whether such a young woman has been inquiring for thee. He may go
out betimes in the morning, and may return by night, for it is but twelve
or fourteen miles at farthest thither.
Roxana. I like thy scheme very well ; and I beg the favour of you in
the morning, as soon as you are up, to send Tom to Dover, with such
instructions as you shall think proper.
After a good night's repose I was well recovered, to the great satisfac
tion of all that were with me.
The good-natured Quaker, always studious to serve and oblige me, got
up about five o'clock in the morning, and going down into the inn-yard,
met with Tom, gave him his instructions, and he set out for Dover before
six o'clock.
As we were at the best inn in the city, so we could readily have
whatever we pleased, and whatever the season afforded; but my husband,
the most indulgent man that ever breathed, having observed how heartily
I ate my dinner at Rochester two days before, ordered the very same bill
of fare, and of which I made a heartier meal than I did before. We were
very merry, and after we had dined, we went to see the town-house, but,
as it was near five o'clock, I left the Quaker behind me, to receive what
intelligence she could get concerning my daughter, from the footman, who
was expected to return from Dover at six.
We came to the inn just as it was dark, and then excusing myself to
my husband, I immediately ran up into my chamber, where I had
appointed the Quaker to be against my return. I ran to her with eagerness,
and inquired what news from Dover, by Tom, the footman.
She said, Tom had been returned two hours ; that he got to Dover that
morning between seven and eight, and found, at the inn he put up at,
there had been an inquisitive young woman to find out a gentleman that
was a Dutch merchant, and a lady who was her mother; that the young
woman perfectly well described his lady ; that he found that she had visited
every public inn in the town; that she said she would go to Deal, and
that, if she did not find the lady, her mother, there, she would go by the
first ship to the Hague, and go from thence, to Amsterdam and Rotterdam,
searching all the towns through which she passed in the United Provinces.
This account pleased me very well, especially when I understood that
she had been gone from Dover five days. The Quaker comforted me, and
said it was lucky this busy creature had passed the road before us,
otherwise she might easily have found means to have overtaken us, for,
as she observed, the wench had such an artful way of telling her story,
that she moved everybody to compassion; and she did not doubt but that
if we had been before, as we were behind, she would have got those who
would have assisted her with a coach, etc., to have pursued us, and they
might have come up with us.
I was of the honest Quaker's sentiments. I grew pretty easy, called
396 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
Tom, and gave him half a guinea for his diligence ; then I and the Quaker
went into the parlour to my husband, and soon after supper came in, and
I ate moderately, and we spent the remainder of the evening, for the clock
had then tolled nine, very cheerfully; for my Quaker was so rejoiced at
my good fortune, as she called it, that she was very alert, and exceeding
good company; and her wit, and she had no small share of it, I thought
was better played off than ever I had heard it before.
My husband asked me how I should choose to go on board; I desired
him to settle it as he pleased, telling him it was a matter of very great
indifference to me, as he was to go with me. 'That may be true, my
dear', says he, 'but I ask you for a reason or two, which I will lay before
you, viz. if we hire a vessel for ourselves, we may set sail when we please,
have the liberty of every part of the ship to ourselves, and land at what
port, either in Holland or France, we might make choice of. Besides',
added he, ' another reason I mention it to you is, that I know you do not
love much company, which, in going into the packet-boat, it is almost
impossible to avoid.' 'I own, my dear', said I, 'your reasons are very
good ; I have but one thing to say against them, which is, that the packet-
boat, by its frequent voyages, must of course be furnished with experienced
seamen, who know the seas too well even to run any hazard.' (At this
juncture the terrible voyage I and Amy made from France to Harwich
came so strong in my mind, that I trembled so as to be taken notice of
by my husband.) 'Besides', added I, 'the landlord may send the master
of one of them to you, and I think it may be best to hire the state cabin,
as they call it, to ourselves, by which method we shall avoid company,
without we have an inclination to associate ourselves with such passengers
we may happen to like ; and the expense will be much cheaper than hiring
a vessel to go the voyage with us alone, and every whit as safe.'
The Quaker, who had seriously listened to our discourse, gave it as her
opinion that the method I had proposed was by far the safest, quickest,
and cheapest. 'Not', said she, 'as I think thou wouldest be against any
necessary expense, though I am certain thou wouldest not fling thy
money away.'
Soon after, my husband ordered the landlord to send for one of the
masters of the packet-boats, of whom he hired the great cabin, and agreed
to sail from thence the next day, if the wind and the tide answered.
The settling our method of going over sea had taken up the time till
the dinner was ready, which we being informed of, came out of a chamber
we had been in all the morning, to a handsome parlour, where everything
was placed suitable to our rank; there was a large, old-fashioned service
of plate, and a sideboard genteelly set off. The dinner was excellent, and
well dressed.
After dinner, we entered into another discourse, which was the hiring
of servants to go with us from Dover to Paris; a thing frequently done
by travellers ; and such are to be met with at every stage inn. Our
footmen set out this morning on their return to London, and the Quaker
and coach was to go the next day. My new chambermaid, whose name
was Isabel, was to go through the journey, on condition of doing no other
business than waiting on me. In a while, we partly concluded to let the
hiring of men-servants alone till we came to Calais, for they could be of
no use to us on board a ship, the sailor's or cabin boy's place being to
attend the cabin passengers as well as his master.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 397
To divert ourselves, we took a walk, after we had dined, round about
the town, and coming to the garrison, and being somewhat thirsty, all
went into the sutler's for a glass of wine. A pint was called for and
brought; but the man of the house came in with it raving like a madman,
saying, ' Don't you think you are a villain, to ask for a pot of ale when
I know you have spent all your money, and are ignorant of the means
of getting more, without you hear of a place, which I look upon to be
very unlikely ? ' ' Don't be in such a passion, landlord ' said my husband.
'Pray, what is the matter?' 'Oh, nothing, sir', says he; 'but a young
fellow in the sutling room, whom I find to have been a gentleman's
servant, wants a place; and having spent all his money, would willingly
run up a score with me, knowing I must get him a master if ever I intend
to have my money.' ' Pray, sir ', said my husband, ' send the young fellow
to me; if I like him, and can agree with him, it is possible I may take
him into my service.' The landlord took care we should not speak to him
twice, he went and fetched him in himself, and my husband examined
him before he spoke, as to his size, mien, and garb. The young man
was clean dressed, of a middling stature, a dark complexion, and about
twenty-seven years old.
•I hear, young man', says he to him, 'that you want a place; it may
perhaps be in my power to serve you. Let me know at once what
education you have had, if you have any family belonging to you, or if
you are fit for a gentleman's service, can bring any person of reputation
to your character, and are willing to go and live in Holland with me : we
will not differ about your wages.'
The young fellow made a respectful bow to each of us, and addressed
himself to my husband as follows : ' Sir ', said he, ' in me you behold the
eldest child of misfortune. I am but young, as you may see; I have no
comers after me, and having lived with several gentlemen, some of whom
are on their travels, others settled in divers parts of the world, besides
what are dead, makes me unable to produce a character without a week's
notice to write to London, and I should not doubt but by the return of
the post to let you see some letters as would satisfy you in any doubts
about me. My education', continued he, 'is but very middling, being
taken from school before I had well learnt to read, write, and cast accounts |
and, as to my parentage, I cannot well give you any account of them : all
that I know is, that my father was a brewer, and by his extravagance ran
out a handsome fortune, and afterwards left my poor mother almost
penniless, with five small children, of which I was the second, though not
above five years old. My mother knew not what to do with us, so she
sent a poor girl, our maid, whose name I have forgot this many years,
with us all to a relation's, and there left us, and 1 never saw or heard of
or from them any more. Indeed, I inquired among the neighbours, and
all that I could learn was that my mother's goods were seized, that she
was obliged to apply to the parish for relief, and died of grief soon after.
For my part', says he, 'I was put into the hands of my father's sister,
where, by her cruel usage, I was forced to run away at nine years of age;
and the numerous scenes of life I have since gone through are more than
would fill a small volume. Pray, sir', added he, 'let it satisfy you that I
am thoroughly honest, and should be glad to serve you at any rate; and
although I cannot possibly get a good character from anybody at present, yet
I defy the whole world to give me an ill one, either in public or private life.'
398
THE LIFE OF ROXANA
If I had had the eyes of Argus I should have seen with them all on
this occasion. I knew that this was my son, and one that, among all my
inquiry, I could never get any account of. The Quaker seeing my colour
come and go, and also tremble, said 'I verily believe thou art not well;
I hope this Kentish air, which was always reckoned aguish, does not hurt
thee? 'I am taken very sick of a sudden', said I; 'so pray let me go
to our inn that I may go to my chamber.' Isabel being called in, she and
the Quaker attended me there, leaving the young fellow with my spouse.
When I was got into my chamber, I was seized with such a grief as I
had never known before; and, flinging myself down upon the bed, burst
into a flood of tears, and soon after fainted away. Soon after, I came a
little to myself, and the Quaker begged of me to tell her what was the
cause of my sudden indisposition. 'Nothing at all', says I, 'as I know
of; but a sudden chilliness seized my blood, and that, joined to a fainting
of the spirits, made me ready to sink.'
Presently after, my husband came to see how I did, and finding me
somewhat better, he told me that he had a mind to hire the young man
I had left him with, for he believed he was honest and fit for our service.
'My dear', says I, 'I did not mind him. I would desire you to be
cautious how we pick up on the road; but as I have the satisfaction of
hiring my maids, I shall never trouble myself with the men-servants, that
is wholly your province. However', added I (for I was very certain he
was my son, and was resolved to have him in my service, though it was
my interest to keep my husband off, in order to bring him on ), ' if you
like the fellow, I am not averse to your hiring one servant in England.
We are not obliged to trust him with much before we see his conduct,
and, if he does not prove as you may expect, you may turn him off
whenever you please.' 'I believe', said my husband, 'he has been
ingenuous in his relation to me ; and as a man who has seen great variety
of life, and may have been the shuttlecock of fortune, the butt of
envy, and the mark of malice, I will hire him when he comes to me here
anon, as I have ordered him.'
As I knew he was to b« hired, I resolved to be out of the way when
he came to my husband; so about five o'clock I proposed to the Quaker
to take a walk on the pier and see the shipping, while the tea-kettle was
boiling. We went, and took Isabel with us, and as we were going along
I saw my son Thomas (as I shall for the future call him) going to our
inn; so we stayed out about an hour, and when we returned my husband
told me he had hired the man, and that he was to come to him as a
servant on the morrow morning. 'Pray, my dear', said I, 'did you ask
where he ever lived, or what his name is?' 'Yes', replied my husband,
'he says his name is Thomas ; and as to places, he has mentioned
several families of note, and among others, he lived at my Lord '»,
next door to the great French lady's in Pall Mall, whose name he tells
me was Roxana.' I was now in a sad dilemma, and was fearful I should
be known by my own son; and the Quaker took notice of it, and after
wards told me she believed fortune had conspired that all the people I
became acquainted with, should have known the Lady Roxana. 'I warrant',
said she, 'this young fellow is somewhat acquainted with the impertinent
wench that calls herself thy daughter.'
I was very uneasy in mind, but had one thing in my favour, which was
always to keep myself at a very great distance from my servant*; and as
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 399
the Quaker was to part with us the next day or night, he would have
nobody to mention the name Roxana to, and so of course it would drop.
We supped pretty late at night, and were very merry, for my husband
said all the pleasant things he could think of, to divert me from the sup-
§>sed illness he thought I had been troubled with in the day. The
[taker kept up the discourse with great spirit, and I was glad to receive
e impression, for I wanted the real illness to be drove out of my head.
The next morning, after breakfast, Thomas came to his new place. He
appeared very clean, and brought with him a small bundle, which I sup
posed to be linen, tied up in a handkerchief, My husband sent him to
order some porters belonging to the quay to fetch our boxes to the Custom
house, where they were searched, for which we paid one shilling; and he
had orders to give a crown for head money, as they called it; their demand
by custom is but sixpence a head, but we appeared to our circumstances
in everything. As soon as our baggage was searched, it was carried from
the Custom-house on board the packet-boat, and there lodged in the great
cabin as we had ordered it.
This took up the time till dinner, and when we were sitting together
after we had both dined, the captain came to tell us that the wind was
very fair, and that he was to sail at high water, which would be about
ten o'clock at night. My husband asked him to stay and drink part of a
bottle of wine with him, which he did ; and their discourse being all in
the maritime strain, the Quaker and I retired, and left them together, for
I had something to remind her of in our discourse before we left London.
When we got into the garden, which was rather neat than fine, I repeated
all my former requests to her about my children, Spitalfields, Amy, etc.,
and we sat talking together, till Thomas was sent to tell us the captain
was going, on which we returned; but, by the way, I kissed her and put
a large gold medal into her hand, as a token of my sincere love, and
desired that she would never neglect the things she had promised to
perform, and her repeated promise gave me great satisfaction.
The captain, who was going out of the parlour as we returned in, was
telling my husband he would send six of his hands to conduct us to the
boat, about a quarter of an hour before he sailed, and as the moon was
at the full, he did not doubt of a pleasant passage.
Our next business was to pay off the coachman, to whom my husband
gave half a guinea extraordinary, to set the Quaker down at the house he
took us all up at, which he promised to perform.
As it was low water, we went on board to see the cabin that we were
to go our voyage in, and the captain would detain us to drink a glass of
the best punch, I think, I ever tasted.
When we returned to the inn, we ordered supper to be ready by eight
o'clock, that we might drink a parting glass to settle it, before we went
on board ; for my husband, who knew the sea very well, said a full stomach
was the forerunner of sea-sickness, which I was willing to avoid.
We invited the landlord, his wife, and daughter, to supper with us, and
having sat about an hour afterwards, the captain himself, with several
sailors, came to fetch us to the vessel. As all was paid, we had nothing
to hinder us but taking a final leave of the Quaker, who would go to see
us safe in the vessel, where tears flowed from both our eyes; and I turned
short in the boat, while my husband took his farewell, and he then followed
me, and I never saw the Quaker or England any more.
4<DO THE LIFE OF ROXANA
We were no sooner on board than we hoisted sail; tn« anchors being
up, and the wind fair, we cut the waves at a great rate, till about four
o'clock in the morning, when a French boat came to fetch the mail to
carry it to the post-house, and the boat cast her anchors, for we were a
good distance from the shore, neither could we sail to the town till next
tide, the present one being too far advanced in the ebb.
We might have gone on shore in the boat that carried the mail, but
my husband was sleeping in the cabin when it came to the packet-boat,
and I did not care to disturb him; however, we had an opportunity soon
after, for my husband awaking, and two other boats coming up with oars
to see for passengers, Thomas came to let us know we might go on shore
if we pleased. My husband paid the master of the packet-boat for our
passage, and Thomas, with the sailors' assistance, got our boxes into the
wherry, so we sailed for Calais; but before our boat came to touch ground,
several men, whose bread I suppose it is, rushed into the water, without
shoes or stockings, to carry us on shore ; so, having paid ten shillings for
the wherry, we each of us was carried from the boat to the land by
two men, and our goods brought after us? here was a crown to be paid,
to save ourselves from being wet, by all which a man that is going a-
travelling may see that it is not the bare expense of the packet-boat that
will carry him to Calais.
It would be needless to inform the reader of all the ceremonies that
we passed through at this place before we were suffered to proceed on
our journey; however, our boxes having been searched at the Custom-house,
my husband had them plumbed, as they called it, to hinder any further
inquiry about them ; and we got them all to the Silver Lion, a noted inn,
and the post-house of this place, where we took a stage-coach for ourselves,
and the next morning, having well refreshed ourselves, we all, viz. my
husband, self, and chambermaid within the coach, and Thomas behind
( beside which my husband hired two horsemen well armed, who were
pretty expensive, to travel with us), set forward on our journey.
We were five days on our journey from Calais to Paris, which we went
through with much satisfaction, for, having fine weather and good attendance,
we had nothing to hope for.
When we arrived at Paris (I began to be sorry I had ever proposed
going to it for fear of being known, but as we were to stay there but a
few days, I was resolved to keep very retired), we went to a merchant's
house of my husband's acquaintancy in the Kue de la Bourle, near the
Carmelites, in the Faubourg de St. Jacques,
This being a remote part of the city, on the south side, and near
several pleasant gardens, I thought it would be proper to be a little
indisposed, that my husband might not press me to go with him to
see the curiosities ; for he could do the most needful business, such
as going to the bankers to exchange bills, despatching of letters,
settling affairs with merchants, etc., without my assistance; and I had a
tolerable plea for my conduct, such as the great fatigue of our journey,
being among strangers, etc. ; so we stayed at Paris eight days without my
going to any particular places, except going one day to the gardens of
Luxembourg, another to the church of Notre Dame on the Isle of Paris,
a third to the Hotel Royale des Invalides, a fourth to the gardens of the
Tuileries, a fifth to the suburbs of St Lawrence, to see the fair which was
then holding there } a sixth to the gardens of the Louvre, a seventh to
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 40 1
the playhouse, and the eighth stayed all day at home to write a letter to
the Quaker, letting her know where I then was, and how soon we should
go forwards in our journey, but did not mention where we intended to
settle, as, indeed, we had not yet settled that ourselves.
One of the days, viz. that in which I went to the gardens of the
Tuileries, I asked Thomas several questions about his father, mother, and
other relations, being resolved, notwithstanding he was my own son, as
he did not know it, to turn him off by some stratagem or another, if he
had any manner of memory of me, either as his mother, or the Lady
Roxana. I asked him if he had any particular memory of his mother or
father; he answered, 'No, I scarce remember anything of either of them',
said he, 'but I have heard from several people that I had one brother
and three sisters, though I never saw them all, to know them, notwith
standing I lived with an aunt four years ; I often asked after my mother,
and some people said she went away with a man, but it was allowed by
most people, that best knew her, that she, being brought to the greatest
distress, was carried to the workhouse belonging to the parish, where she
died soon after with grief.'
Nothing could give me more satisfaction than what Thomas had related ;
so now, I thought I would ask about the Lady Roxana (for he had been
my nextdoor neighbour when I had that title conferred on me). 'Pray,
Thomas', said I, 'did not you speak of a great person of quality, whose
name I have forgot, that lived next door to my Lord 's, when you
was his valet? pray who was she? I suppose a foreigner, by the name
you called her.' 'Really, my lady', replied he, 'I do not know who she
was ; all I can say of her is, that she kept the greatest company, and was
a beautiful woman, by report, but I never saw her; she was called the
Lady Roxana, was a very good mistress, but her character was not so
good as to private life as it ought to be. Though I once had an oppor
tunity', continued he, 'of seeing a fine outlandish dress she danced in
before the king, which I took as a great favour, for the cook took me up
when the lady was out, and she desired my lady's woman to show
it to me.'
All this answered right, and I had nothing to do but to keep my
Turkish dress out of the way, to be myself unknown to my child, for as
he had never seen Roxana, so he knew nothing of me.
In the interval, my husband had hired a stage-coach to carry us to the
city of Menin, where he intended to go by water down the river Lys to
Ghent, and there take coach to Isabella fort, opposite the city of Anvers,
and cross the river to that place, and go from thence by land to Breda j
and as he had agreed and settled this patrol, I was satisfied, and we set
out next day. We went through several handsome towns and villages before
we took water, but by water we went round part of the city of Courtrai,
and several fortified towns. At Anvers we hired a coach to Breda, where
we stayed two days to refresh ourselves, for we had been very much fatigued j
as Willemstadt was situated so as to be convenient for our taking water
for Rotterdam, we went there, and being shipped, had a safe and speedy
voyage to that city.
As we had resolved in our journey to settle at the Hague, we did not
intend to stay any longer at Rotterdam than while my husband had all
our wealth delivered to him from the several merchants he had consigned
it to. This business took up a month, during which time we lived in
402 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
ready-furnished lodgings on the Great Quay, where all the respect was
shown us as was due to our quality.
Here my husband hired two more men-servants, and I took two maids,
and turned Isabel, who was a wellbred, agreeable girl, into my companion ;
but that I might not be too much fatigued, my husband went to the
Hague first, and left me, with three maids and Thomas at Rotterdam, while
he took a house, furnished it, and had everything ready for my reception,
which was done with great expedition. One of his footmen came with a
letter to me one morning, to let me know his master would come by the
scow next day to take me home, in which he desired that I would prepare
for my departure. I soon got everything ready, and the next morning, on
the arrival of the scow, I saw my husband; and we both, with all the
servants, left the city of Rotterdam, and safely got to the Hague the
afternoon following.
It was now the servants had notice given them to call me by the name
of ' my lady ', as the honour of baronetage had entitled me, and with which
title I was pretty well satisfied, but should have been more so had not
I yet the higher title of countess in view.
I now lived in a place where I knew nobody, neither was I known, on
which I was pretty careful whom I became acquainted with; our circum
stances were very good, my husband loving, to the greatest degree, my
servants respectful; and, in short, I lived the happiest life woman could
enjoy, had my former crimes never crept into my guilty conscience,
1 was in this happy state of life when I wrote a letter to the Quaker,
in which I gave her a direction where she might send to me. And about
a fortnight after, as I was one afternoon stepping into my coach in order
to take an airing, the postman came to our door with letters, one of which
was directed to me, and as soon as I saw it was the Quaker's hand, I
bid the coachman put up again, and went into my closet to read the
contents, which were as follows:
• DEAR FRIEND, I have had occasion to write to thee several times since
we saw each other, but as this is my first letter, so it shall contain all
the business thou wouldst know. I got safe to London, by thy careful
ordering of the coach, and the attendants were not at all wanting in their
duty. When I had been at home a few days, thy woman, Mrs Amy, came
to see me, so I took her to task as thou ordered me, about murdering
thy pretended daughter; she declared her innocence, but said she had
procured a false evidence to swear a large debt against her, and by that
means had put her into a prison, and fee'd the keepers to hinder her
from sending any letter or message out of the prison to any person
whatever. This, I suppose, was the reason thou thought she was murdered,
because thou wert relieved from her by this base usage. However, when
I heard of it, I checked Amy very much, but was well satisfied to hear
she was alive. After this I did not hear from Amy for above a month,
and in the interim (as I knew thou wast safe), I sent a friend of mine
to pay the debt, and release the prisoner, which he did, but was so
indiscreet as to let her know who was the benefactress. My next care
was to manage thy Spitalfields business, which I did with much exactness.
And the day that I received thy last letter, Amy came to me again, and
I read as much of it to her as she was concerned in : nay, I entreated
her to drink tea with me, and after it one glass of citron, in which she
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 403
drank towards thy good health, and she told me she would come to see thee
as soon as possible. Just as she was gone, I was reading thy letter again
in the little parlour, and that turbulent creature (thy pretended daughter)
came to me, as she said, to return thanks for the favour I had done her,
so I accidentally laid thy letter down in the window, while I went to
fetch her a glass of cordial, for she looked sadly, and before I returned
I heard the street door shut, on which I went back without the liquor,
not knowing who might have come in, but, missing her, I thought she
might be gone to stand at the door, and the wind had blown it to; but
I was never the nearer, she was sought for in vain. So when I believed
her to be quite gone, I looked to see if I missed anything, which I did
not; but at last, to my great surprise, I missed your letter, which she
certainly took and made off with. I was so terrified at this unhappy
chance that I fainted away, and had not one of my maidens come in at
that juncture, it might have been attended with fatal consequences. I would
advise thee to prepare thyself to see her, for I verily believe she will come
to thee. 1 dread your knowing of this, but hope the best. Before I went
to fetch the unhappy cordial, she told me, as she had often done before,
that she was the eldest daughter, that the captain's wife was your second
daughter, and her sister, and that the youngest sister was dead. She also
said there were two brothers, the eldest of whom had never been seen by
any of them since he run away from an uncle's at nine years of age, and
that the youngest had been taken care of by an old lady that kept her
coach, whom he took to be his godmother. She gave me a long history
in what manner she was arrested and flung into Whitechapel jail, how
hardly she fared there; and at length the keeper's wife, to whom she told
her pitiful story, took compassion of her, and recommended her to the
bounty of a certain lady who lived in that neighbourhood, that redeemed
prisoners for small sums, and who lay for their fees, every return of the
duy of her nativity; that she was one of the six the lady had discharged;
that the lady prompted her to seek after her mother; that she thereupon
did seek thee in all the towns and villages between London and Dover;
that, not finding thee at Dover, she went to Deal ; and that at length, she
being tired of seeking thee, she returned by shipping to London, where she
was no sooner arrived, but she was immediately arrested, and flung into
the Marshalsea prison, where she lived in a miserable condition, without
the use of pen, ink, and paper, and without th* liberty of having any one
of her friends come near her. "In this condition I was (continued she)
when you sent and paid my debt for me, and discharged me." When she
had related all this she fell into such a fit of crying, sighing, and sobbing,
from which, when she was a little recovered, she broke out into loud
exclamations against the wickedness of the people in England, that they
could be so unchristian as to arrest her twice, when she said it was as
true as the Gospel that she never did owe to any one person the sum of
one shilling in all her life; that she could not think who it was that
should owe her so much ill-will, for that she was not conscious to herself
that she had any ways offended any person in the whole universal world,
except Mrs Amy, in the case of her mother, which, she affirmed, she was
acquitted of by all men, and hoped she should be so by her Maker; and
that if she (Mrs Amy) had any hand in her sufferings, God would forgive
her, as she heartily did. " But then ( she added ) I will not stay in England,
I will go all over the world, I wfll go to France, to Paris; I know my
404 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
mother did once live there, and if I do not find her there, I will go
through Holland, to Amsterdam, to Rotterdam; in short, I will go till I
find my mother out, if I should die in the pursuit" I should be glad to
hear of thine and thy spouse's welfare, and remain with much sincerity,
your sincere friend,
M. P.
The ninth of the month
called October.
P.S. If thou hast any business to transact in this city, pray let me
know; I shall use my best endeavours to oblige thee; my daughters all
join with me in willing thee a hearty farewell.'
I concealed my surprise for a few minutes, only till I could get into
the summer-house, at the bottom of our large garden; but, when I was
shut in, no living soul can describe the agony I was in; I raved, tore,
fainted away, swore, prayed, wished, cried, and promised, but all availed
nothing, I was now stuck in to see the worst of it, let what would happen.
At last I came to the following resolution, which was to write a letter
to the Quaker, and in it enclose a fifty pound bank-bill, and tell the
Quaker, to give that to the young woman if she called again, and also to
let her know a fifty pound bill should be sent her every year, so long as
she made no inquiry after me, and kept herself retired in England.
Although this opened myself too full to the Quaker, yet I thought I had
better venture my character abroad, than destroy my peace at home.
Soon after, my husband came home, and he perceived I had been crying,
and asked what was the reason. I told him that I had shed tears both
for joy and sorrow: 'For', said I, 'I have received one of the tenderest
letters from Amy, as it was possible for any person, and she tells me in
it', added I, 'that she will soon come to see me; which so overjoyed me,
that I cried, and after it, I went to read the letter a second time, as I was
looking out of the summer-house window over the canal ; and in unfolding
it, I accidentally let it fall in, by which mischance it is lost, for which I
am very sorry, as I intended you should see it.' 'Pray, my dear', said
he, 'do not let that give you any uneasiness; if Amy comes, and you
approve of it, you have my consent to take her into the house, in what
capacity you please. I am very glad', continued he, 'that you have nothing
of more consequence to be uneasy at, I fancy you would make but an
indifferent helpmate if you had.' Oh ! thought I to myself, if you but knew
half the things that lie on my conscience, I believe you would think that
I bear them out past all example.
About ten days afterwards, as we were sitting at dinner with two
gentlemen, one of the footmen came to the door, and said 'My lady, here
is a gentlewoman at the door who desires to speak with you: she says
her name is Mrs Amy.'
I no sooner heard her name, but I was ready to swoon away, but I
ordered the footman to call Isabel, and ask the gentlewoman to walk up
with her into my dressing-room; which he immediately did, and there I
went to have my first interview with her. She kissed me for joy when
she saw me, and I sent Isabel downstairs, for I was in pain till I had
some private conversation with my old confidante.
There was not much ceremony between us, before I told her all the
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 405
material circumstances that had happened in her absence, especially about
the girl's imprisonments which she had contrived, and how she had got
my letter at the Quaker's, the very day she had been there. ' Well ', says
Amy, when I had told her all, 'I find nothing is to ensue, if she lives,
but your ruin; you would not agree to her death, so I will not make
myself uneasy about her life ; it might have been rectified, but you were
angry with me for giving you the best of counsel, viz., when I proposed
to murder her.'
'Hussy', said I, in the greatest passion imaginable, 'how dare you
mention the word murder? You wretch you, I could find in my heart, if
my husband and the company were gone, to kick you out of my house.
Have you not done enough to kill her, in throwing her into one of the
worst jails in England, where, you see, that Providence in a peculiar
manner appeared to her assistance. Away! thou art a wicked wretch;
thou art a murderer in the sight of God.'
'I will say no more', says Amy; 'but if I could have found her, after
thy friend the Quaker had discharged her out of the Marshalsea prison, I
had laid a scheme to have her taken up for a theft, and by that means
got her transported for fourteen years. She will be with you soon, I am
sure; I believe she is now in Holland.'
While we were in this discourse, I found the gentlemen who dined with
us were going, so we came downstairs, and I went into the parlour to
take leave of them before their departure. When they were gone, my
husband told me he had been talking with them about taking upon him
the title of Count or Earl of , as he had told me of, and as an
opportunity now offered, he was going to put it in execution.
I told him I was so well settled, as not to want anything this world
could afford me, except the continuance of his life and love (though the
very thing he had mentioned, joined with the death of my daughter, in
the natural way, would have been much more to my satisfaction ) . ' Well,
my dear ', says he, ' the expense will be but small, and as I promised you
the title, it shall not be long before the honour shall be brought home
to your toilette.' He was as good as his word, for that day week he
brought the patent home to me, in a small box covered with crimson
velvet and two gold hinges. 'There, my lady countess', says he, 'long
may you live to bear the title, for I am certain you are a credit to it.'
In a few days after, I had the pleasure to see our equipage, as coach,
chariot, etc., all new painted, and a coronet fixed at the proper place, and,
in short, everything was proportioned to our quality, so that our house
vied with most of the other nobility.
It was at this juncture that I was at the pinnacle of all my worldly
felicity, notwithstanding my soul was black with the foulest crimes. And,
at the same time, I may begin to reckon the beginning of my misfortunes,
which were in embryo, but were rery soon brought forth, and hurried me
on to the greatest distress.
As I was sitting one day, talking to Amy, in our parlour, and the street
door being left open by one of the servants, I saw my daughter pass by
the window, and without any ceremony she came to the parlour door, and
opening of it, came boldly in. I was terribly amazed, and asked her who
she wanted, as if I had not known her, but Amy's courage was quite lost,
and she swooned away. 'Your servant, my lady', says she; 'I thought I
should never have had the happiness to see you tete-a-tete, till your agent,
406 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
the Quaker, in Haydon Yard, in the Minories, carelessly left a direction
for me in her own window; however, she is a good woman, for she
released me out of a jail in which, I believe, that base wretch' (pointing
to Amy, who was coming to herself) 'caused me to be confined.' As
soon as Amy recovered, she flew at her like a devil, and between them
there was so much noise as alarmed the servants, who all came to see
what was the matter. Amy had pulled down one of my husband's swords,
drawn it, and was just going to run her through the body, as the servants
came in, who, not knowing anything of the matter, some of them secured
Amy, others held the girl, and the rest were busy about me, to prevent
my fainting away, which was more than they could do, for I fell into
strong fits, and in the interim they turned the girl out of the house, who
was fully bent on revenge.
My lord, as I now called him, was gone out a-hunting. I was satisfied
he knew nothing of it, as yet, and when Amy and I were thoroughly
come to ourselves, we thought it most advisable to find the girl out, and
give her a handsome sum of money to keep her quiet. So Amy went
out, but in all her searching could hear nothing of her; this made me
very uneasy. I guessed she would contrive to see my lord before he came
home, and so it proved, as you shall presently hear.
When night came on, that I expected his return, I wondered I did not
see him. Amy sat up in my chamber with me, and was as much con
cerned as was possible. Well, he did not come in all that night, but the
next morning, about ten o'clock, he rapped at the door, with the girl along
with him. When it was opened, he went into the great parlour, and bid
Thomas go call down his lady. This was the crisis. I now summoned
up all my resolution, and took Amy down with me, to see if we could
not baffle the girl, who, to an inch, was her mother's own child.
It will be necessary here to give a short account of our debate, because
on it all my future misery depended, and it made me lose my husband's
love, and own my daughter; who would not rest there, but told my lord
how many brothers and sisters she had.
When we entered the room, my lord was walking very gravely about
it, but with his brows knit, and a wild confusion in his face, as if all the
malice and revenge of a Dutchman had joined to put me out of coun
tenance before I spoke a word.
' Pray, madam ', says he, ' do you know this young woman ? I expect a
speedy and positive answer, without the least equivocation.'
'Really, my lord', replied I, 'to give you an answer as quick as you
desire, 1 declare I do not.'
'Do not!' said he, 'what do you mean by that? She tells me that you
are her mother, and that her father ran away from you, and left two sons,
and two daughters besides herself, who were all sent to their relations for
provision, after which you ran away with a jeweller to Paris. Do you
know anything of this? Answer me quickly.'
'My lord', said the girl, 'there is Mrs Amy, who was my mother's
servant at the time (as she told me herself abont three months ago),
knows very well I am the person I pretend to be, and caused me to be
thrown into jail for debts I knew nothing of, because I should not find
out my mother, to make myself known to her before she left England.'
After this she told my lord everything she knew of me, even in the character
of Roxana, and described my dress so well, that he knew it to be mine.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 407
When she had quite gone through her long relation, 'Well, madam',
says he, ' now let me see if I cannot tell how far she has told the truth
in relation to you. When I first became acquainted with you, it was on
tfie sale of those jewels, in which I stood so much your friend, at a time
that you were in the greatest distress, your substance being in the hands
of the Jew; you then passed for a jeweller's widow; this agrees with her
saying you ran away with a jeweller. In the next place, you would not
consent to marry me about twelve years ago; I suppose then your real
husband was living, for nothing else could tally with your condescension
to me in everything except marriage. Since that time, your refusing to
come to Holland in the vessel I had provided for you, under a distant
prospect of your being with child, though in reality it was your having a
child too much, as the captain told me of, when I, being ignorant of the
case, did not understand him. Now', continued he, ' she says that you are
the identical Lady Roxana which made so much noise in the world, and
has even described the robe and head-dress you wore on that occasion,
and in that I know she is right; for, to my own knowledge, you have
that very dress by you now ; I having seen you dressed in it at our lodging
at the Quaker's. From all these circumstances', says he, 'I may be assured
that you have imposed grossly upon me, and, instead of being a woman
of honour as I took you for, I find that you have been an abandoned
wretch, and had nothing to recommend you but a sum of money and a
fair countenance, joined to a false unrelenting heart.'
These words of my lord's struck such a damp upon my spirits, as made
me unable to speak in my turn. But at last, I spoke as follows: 'My
lord, I have most patiently stood to hear all it was possible for you to
allege against me, which has no other proof than imagination. That I
was the wife of a brewer, I have no reason now to deny, neither had I
any occasion before to acknowledge it. I brought him a handsome fortune,
which, joined to his, made us appear in a light far superior to our
neighbours. I had also five children by him, two sons and three daughters,
and had my husband been as wise as rich, we might have lived happily
together now. But it was not so, for he minded nothing but sporting, in
almost every branch; and, closely following of it soon run out all his
substance, and then left me in an unhappy, helpless condition. I did not
send my children to my relations till the greatest necessity drove me, and
after that, hearing my husband was dead, I married the jeweller, who was
afterwards murdered. If I had owned how many children I had, the
jeweller would not have married me, and the way of life I was in would
not keep my family, so I was forced to deny them in order to get them
bread. Neither can I say that I have either heard or known anything of
my children since, excepting that I heard they were all taken care of; and
this was the very reason I would not marry you, when you offered it some
years since, for these children lay seriously at my heart, and, as I did not
want money, my inclination was to come to England, and not entail five
children upon you the day of marriage.'
'Pray, madam', said my lord, interrupting me, 'I do not find that you
kept up to your resolutions when you got there; you were so far from
doing your duty as a parent, that you even neglected the civility of
acquaintances, for they would have asked after them, but your whole
scheme has been to conceal yourself as much as possible, and even when
you were found out, denied yourself, as witness the case of your daughter
408 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
here. As to the character of Lady Roxana, which you so nicely managed',
said he, 'did that become a woman that had five children, whose necessity
had obliged you to leave them, to live in a continual scene of pageantry
and riot, I could almost say debauchery? Look into your conduct, and
see if you deserve to have the title or the estate you now so happily enjoy.'
After this speech, he walked about the room in a confused manner for
some minutes, and then addressed himself to Amy. 'Pray, Mrs Amy',
says he, 'give me your judgment in this case, for, although I know you
are as much as possible in your lady's interest, yet I cannot think you
have so little charity as to think she acted like a woman of worth and
discretion. Do you really think, as you knew all of them from infants,
that this young woman is your lady's daughter?'
Amy, who always had spirits enough about her, said at once she be
lieved the girl was my daugter. 'And truly', says she, 'I think your man
Thomas is her eldest son, for the tale he tells of his birth and education
suits exactly with our then circumstances.'
•Why, indeed', said my lord, 'I believe so too, for I now recollect that
when we first took him into our service at Dover, he told me he was the
son of a brewer in London; that his father had run away from his mother,
and left her in a distressed condition with five children, of which he was
second child, or eldest son.'
Thomas was then called into the parlour, and asked what he knew of
his family ; he repeated all as above, concerning his father's running away
and leaving me; but said that he had often asked and inquired after them,
but without any success, and concluded, that he believed his brothers and
sisters were distributed in several places, and that his mother died in the
greatest distress, and was buried by the parish.
•Indeed', said my lord, 'it is my opinion that Thomas is one of your
sons; do not you think the same?', addressing himself to me.
•From the circumstances that have been related, my lord', said I, 'I
now believe that these are both my children ; but you would have thought
me a mad woman to have countenanced and taken this young woman in
as my child, without a thorough assurance of it ; for that would have been
running myself to a certain expense and trouble, without the least glimpse
of real satisfaction.'
'Pray', said my lord to my daughter, 'let me know what is become of
your brothers and sisters ; give me the best account of them that you can.'
'My lord', replied she, 'agreeably to your commands, I will inform you
to the best of my knowledge; and to begin with myself, who am the
eldest of the five. I was put to a sister of my father's with my youngest
brother, who, by mere dint of industry, gave us maintenance and education
suitable to her circumstances; and she, with my uncle's consent, let me
go to service when I was advanced in years; and among the variety of
places I lived at, Lady Roxana's was one.'
'Yes', said Thomas, 'I knew her there, when I was a valet at my
Lord D 's, the next door; it was there I became acquainted with her;
and she, by the consent of the gentlewoman', pointing to Amy, 'let me
see the Lady Roxana's fine vestment, which she danced in at the
grand ball.'
'Well', continued my daughter, 'after I left this place, I was at several
others before I became acquainted with Mrs Amy a second time (I knew
her before as Roxana's woman), wbo told me one day some things
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 409
relating to my mother, and from thence I concluded, if she was not my
mother herself ( as I at first thought she was ) , she must be employed by
her ; for no stranger could profess so much friendship, where there was no
likelihood of any return, after being so many years asunder.
'After this, I made it my business to find your lady out if possible, and
was twice in her company, once on board the ship you were to have come
to Holland in, and once at the Quaker's house in the Minories, London;
but as I gave her broad hints of whom I took her for, and my lady did
not think proper to own me, I began to think I was mistaken, till your
voyage to Holland was put off. Soon after, I was flung into Whitechapel
jail for a false debt, but, through the recommendation of the jailer's wife
to the annual charity of the good Lady Roberts, of Mile End, I was
discharged. Whereupon I posted away, seeking my mother all down the
Kent Road as far as Dover and Deal, at which last place not finding her,
I came in a coaster to London, and landing in Southwark, was immediately
arrested, and confined in the Marshalsea prison, where I remained some
time, deprived of every means to let any person without the prison know
my deplorable state and condition, till my chum, a young woman, my
bedfellow, who was also confined for debt, was, by a gentleman, discharged.
This young woman of her own free will, went, my lord, to your lodgings
in the Minories, and acquainted your landlady, the Quaker, where I was,
and for what sum I was confined, who immediately sent and paid the
pretended debt, and so I was a second time discharged. Upon which,
going to the Quaker's to return her my thanks soon after, a letter from
your lady to her, with a direction in it where to find you, falling into my
hands, I set out the next morning for the Hague; and I humbly hope
your pardon, my lord, for the liberty I have taken; and you may be
assured, that whatever circumstances of life I happen to be in, I will be
no disgrace to your lordship or family.'
'Well', said my husband, 'what can you say of your mother's second
child, who, I hear, was a son?'
'My lord', said I, 'it is in my power to tell you that Thomas there is
the son you mention ; their circumstances are the same, with this difference,
that she was brought up under the care of a good aunt, and the boy
forced to run away from a bad one, and shift for his bread ever since;
so, if she is my daughter, he is my son, and to oblige you, my lord, I
own her, and to please myself I will own him, and they two are brother
and sister.' I had no sooner done speaking, than Thomas fell down before
me, and asked my blessing, after which, he addressed himself to my lord
as follows:
'My lord', said he, 'out of your abundant goodness yon took me into
your service at Dover. I told you then the circumstances I was in, which
will save your lordship much time by preventing a repetition ; but, if your
lordship pleases, it shall be carefully penned down, for such a variety of
incidents has happened to me in England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Hol
land, France, and the Isle of Man, in which I have travelled for about
eighteen years past, as may prove an agreeable amusement to you, when
you are cloyed with better company; for, as I have never been anything
above a common servant, so my stories shall only consist of facts, and
such as are seldom to be met with, as they are all in low life.'
• Well, Thomas ', said my lord, ' take your own time to do it, and I will
reward you for your trouble.'
410 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
' Now, madam *, said my lord to my daughter, ' if you please to proceed.1
'My lord', continued she, 'my mother's third child, which was a daughter,
lived with the relation I did, and got a place to wait upon a young lady
whose father and mother were going to settle at Boulogne, in France; she
went with them, and, having stayed at this gentleman's (who was a French
merchant) two years, was married to a man with the consent of the family
she lived in; and her master, by way of fortune, got him to be master of
a French and Holland coaster, and this was the very person whose ship
you hired to come to Holland in; the captain's wife was my own sister,
consequently my lady's second daughter; as to my youngest sister, she
lived with the uncle and aunt Thomas ran away from, and died of the
small-pox soon after. My youngest brother was put out apprentice to a
carpenter, where he improved in his business, till a gentlewoman came to
his master and mistress (which I take by the description they gave me,
to be Mrs Amy), who had him put out to an education fit for a merchant,
and then sent him to the Indies, where he is now settled, and in a fair
way to get a large estate. This, my lord, is the whole account I can at
present give of them, and although it may seem very strange, I assure you,
it is all the just truth.'
When she had finished her discourse, my lord turned to me, and said,
that since I that was her mother had neglected doing my duty, though
sought so much after, he would take it upon himself to see both the girl
and Thomas provided for, without any advising or letting me know
anything about them; and added, with a malicious sneer, 'I must take
care of the child I have had by you too, or it will have but an indifferent
parent to trust to in case of my decease.'
This finished the discourse, and my lord withdrew into his study, in a
humour that I am unable to describe, and left me, Amy, Thomas, and my
daughter Susanna, as I must now call her, in the parlour together. We
sat staring at each other some time, till at last Amy said, 'I suppose, my
lady, you have no farther business with your new daughter; she has told
her story, and may now dispose of herself to the best advantage she can.'
'No', said I, 'I have nothing to say to her, only that she shall never be
admitted into my presence again.' The poor girl burst out into tears, and
said 'Pray, my lady, excuse me, for I am certain that were you in my
circumstances, you would have done the very action I have, and would
expect a pardon for committing the offence.'
After this, I said to Thomas, ' Keep what has been said to yourself, and
I shall speak to you by-and-by'; and then I withdrew, and went upstairs
to my closet, leaving Amy with Susanna, who soon dismissed her, and
followed me.
When Amy came to me, ' Now, my lady ', says she, ' what do you think
of this morning's work? I believe my lord is not so angry as we were
fearful of.' 'You are mistaken in your lord, Amy', said I, 'and are not
so well acquainted with the deep and premeditated revenge of Dutchmen
as I am, and although it may not be my husband's temper, yet I dread
it as much, but shall see more at dinner time.'
Soon after this, my husband called Thomas, and bid him order the
cloth for his dinner to be laid in his study, and bid him tell his mother
that he would dine by himself. When I heard this, I was more shocked
than I had been yet 'Now his anger begins to work, Amy', said I.
'how must I act?' 'I do not know', answered she. 'but I will
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 411
go into trie study, and try what can be done, and, as a faithful
mediator, will try to bring you together.' She was not long before she
returned, and bursting into tears, 'I know not what to do', says she,
'for your husband is in a deep study, and when I told him you desired
him to dine with you in the parlour as usual, he only said, "Mrs Amy,
go to your lady, tell her to dine when and where she pleases, and pray
obey her as your lady; but let her know from me that she has lost the
tenderness I had for her as a wife, by the little thought she had of
her children.'"
Nothing could have shocked me more than the delivery of this message
by Amy. I, almost bathed in tears, went to him myself; found him in a
melancholy posture reading in Milton's Paradise Regained. He looked at
me very sternly when I entered his study, told me he had nothing to say
to me at that time, and if I had a mind not to disturb him, I must leave
him for the present. 'My lord', said I, 'supposing all that has been said
by this girl was truth, what reason have you to be in this unforgiving
hunour? What have I done to you to deserve this usage? Have you
found any fault with me since I had the happiness of being married to
you? Did you ever find me in any company that you did not approve
of? Have you any reason to think that I have wasted any of your
substance? If you have none of these things to allege against me, for
heaven's sake do not let us now make our lives unhappy, for my having
had legitimate children by a lawful husband, at a time that you think it
no crime to have had a natural son by me, which I have the most reason
to repent of.'
I spoke the latter part of these words with a small air of authority,
that he might think me the less guilty; but, I believe, he only looked on
what I had said as a piece of heroism; for he soon after delivered himself
in the following speech: 'Madam, do you not think that you have used
me in a very deceitful manner? If you think that I have not had that
usage, I will, in a few words, prove the contrary. When first I knew you,
soon after the jeweller's death at Paris, you never mentioned, in all that
intricate affair I was engaged in for you, so much as your having any
children; that, as your circumstances then were, could have done you no
harm, but, on the contrary, it would have moved the compassion of your
bitter enemy the Jew, if he had any. Afterwards, when I first saw you in
London, and began to treat with you about marriage, your children, which,
to all prudent women, are the first things provided for, were so far
neglected as not to be spoken of, though mine were mentioned to you;
and as our fortunes were very considerable, yours might very well have
been put into the opposite scale with them. Another great piece of your
injustice was when I offered to settle your own fortune upon yourself, you
would not consent to it; I do not look on that piece of condescension
out of love to me, but a thorough hatred you had to your own flesh and
blood; and lastly, your not owning your daughter, though she strongly
hinted who she was to you when she was twice in your company, and
even followed you from place to place while you were in England. Now,
if you can reconcile this piece of inhumanity with yourself, pray try what
you can say to me about your never telling me the life you led in Pall
Mall, in the character of Roxana? You scrupled to be happily married
to me, and soon after came to England, and was a reputed whore to any
nobleman that would come up to your price, and lived with one a
412 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
considerable time, and was taken by several people to be his lawful wife.
If any gentleman should ask me what I have taken to my bed, what must
I answer? I must say an inhuman, false-hearted whore, one that had not
tenderness enough to own her own children, and has too little virtue, in
my mind, to make a good wife.
'I own I would', says he, 'have settled your own estate upon you with
great satisfaction, but I will not do it now ; you may retire to your chamber,
and, when I have any occasion to speak with you, I will send a messenger
to you ; so, my undeserving lady countess, you may walk out of the room.'
I was going to reply to all this, but, instead of hearing me, he began
to speak against the Quaker, who, he supposed, knew all the intrigues of
my life; but I cleared her innocence, by solemnly declaring it was a
thorough reformation of my past life that carried me to live at the Quaker's
house, who knew nothing of me before I went to live with her, and that
she was, I believed, a virtuous woman.
I went away prodigiously chagrined. I knew not what course to take;
I found expostulation signified nothing, and all my hopes depended on
what I might say to him after we were gone to bed at night. I sent in
for Amy, and, having told her our discourse, she said she knew not what
to think of him, but hoped it would, by great submission, wear off by
degrees. I could eat but little dinner, and Amy was more sorrowful than
hungry, and after we had dined, we walked by ourselves in the garden,
to know what we had best pursue. As we were walking about, Thomas
came to us, and told us that the young woman who had caused all the
words, had been at the door, and delivered a letter to my lord's footman,
who had carried it upstairs, and that she was ordered to go to his lordship
in his study, which struck me with a fresh and sensible grief. I told
Thomas, as he was to be her brother, to learn what my lord had said to
her, if he could, as she came down; on which he went into the house to
obey his order.
He was not gone in above a quarter of an hour before he came to me
again, and told me she was gone, and that my lord had given her a purse
of twenty guineas, with orders to live retired, let nobody know who or
what she was, and come to him again in about a month's time. I was
very much satisfied to hear this, and was in hopes of its proving a happy
omen; and I was better pleased about two hours after, when Thomas
came to me to let me know that my lord had given him thirty guineas,
and bid him take off his livery, and new clothe himself, for he intended
to make him his first clerk, and put him in the way of making his fortune.
I now thought it was impossible for me to be poor, and was inwardly
rejoiced that my children (meaning Thomas and Susanna) were in the
high road to grow rich.
As Amy and I had dined by ourselves, my lord kept his study all the
day, and at night, after supper, Isabel came and told me that my lord's
man had received orders to make his bed in the crimson room, which
name it received from the colour of the bed and furniture, and was reserved
against the coming of strangers, or sickness. When she had delivered her
message she withdrew, and I told Amy it would be to no purpose to go
to him again, but I would have her lie in a small bed, which I ordered
immediately to be carried into my chamber. Before we went to bed, I
went to his lordship to know why he would make us both look so little
among our own servants, as to part, bed and board, so suddenly. He
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 413
only said, 'My Lady Roxana knows the airs of quality too well to be
informed that a scandal among nobility does not consist in parting of
beds ; if you cannot lie by yourself, you may send a letter to my Lord ,
whom you lived with as a mistress in London; perhaps he may want a
bedfellow as well as you, and come to you at once; you are too well
acquainted with him to stand upon ceremony.'
I left him, with my heart full of malice, grief, shame, and revenge. I
did not want a good will to do any mischief; but I wanted an unlimited
power to put all my wicked thoughts in execution.
Amy and I lay in our chamber, and the next morning at breakfast we
were talking of what the servants (for there were thirteen of them in all,
viz. two coachmen, four footmen, a groom, and postillion, two women
cooks, two housemaids, and a laundry-maid, besides Isabel, who was my
waiting-maid, and Amy, who acted as housekeeper ) could say of the
disturbance that was in the family. ' Pho 1 ' said Amy ; ' never trouble your
head about that, for family quarrels are so common in noblemen's houses,
both here and in England, that there are more families parted, both in bed
and board, than live lovingly together. It can be no surprise to the
servants, and if your neigbours should hear it, they will only think you
are imitating the air of nobility, and have more of that blood in you than
you appeared to have when you and your lord lived happily together.'
The time, I own, went very sluggishly on. I had no company but Amy
and Isabel, and it was given out among the servants of noblemen and
gentry that I was very much indisposed, for I thought it a very improper
time either to receive or pay visits.
In this manner I lived till the month was up that my daughter was to
come again to my lord, for, although I went morning, noon, and night,
into his apartment to see him, I seldom had a quarter of an hour's discourse
with him, and oftentimes one of his valets would be sent to tell me his
lord was busy, a little before the time I usually went, which I found was
to prevent my going in to him, but this was only when he was in an ill
humour, as his man called it.
Whether my lord used to make himself uneasy for want of mine or
other company, I cannot tell, but the servants complained every day, as
I heard by Amy, that his lordship ate little or nothing, and would some
times shed tears when he sat down by himself to breakfast, dinner, or
supper; and, indeed, I began to think that he looked very thin, his
countenance grew pale, and that he had every other sign of a grieved or
broken heart.
My daughter came to him one Monday morning, and stayed with him
in his study near two hours. I wondered at the reason of it, but could
guess at nothing certain; and at last she went away, but I fixed myself
so as to see her as she passed by me, and she appeared to have a
countenance full of satisfaction.
In the evening, when I went in as usual, he spoke to me in a freer
style than he had done since our breach. 'Well, madam* (for he had not
used the words 'my lady' at any time after my daughter's coming to our
house), said he, 'I think I have provided for your daughter.' 'As how,
my lord, pray will you let me know?' said I. 'Yes', replied he, 'as I
have reason to think you will be sorry to hear of her welfare in any shape,
I will tell you. A gentleman who is going factor for the Dutch East India
Company, on the coast of Malabar, I have recommended her toj and he,
414 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
on my character and promise of a good fortune, will marry her very soon,
for the Company's ships sail in about twelve days; so, in a fortnight,
like a great many mothers as there are nowadays, you may rejoice at
having got rid of one of your children, though you neither know where,
how, or to whom.'
Although I was very glad my lord spoke to me at all, and more
especially so at my daughter's going to be married, and settling in the
Indies, yet his words left so sharp a sting behind them as was exceeding
troublesome to me to wear off. I did not dare venture to make any further
inquiries, but was very glad of what I heard, and soon, bidding my lord
good-night, went and found Amy, who was reading a play in the chamber.
I waited with the greatest impatience for this marriage; and, when I
found the day was fixed, I made bold to ask my lord if I should not be
present in his chamber when the ceremony was performed. This favour
was also denied me. I then asked my lord's chaplain to speak to him
on that head, but he was deaf to his importunities, and bade him tell me
that I very well knew his mind. The wedding was performed on a
Wednesday evening, in my lord's presence, and he permitted nobody to
be there but a sister of the bridegroom's, and Thomas (now my lord's
secretary, or chief clerk), who was brother to the bride, and who gave
her away. They all supped together, after the ceremony was over, in the
great dining-room, where the fortune was paid, which was £2000 (as I
heard from Thomas afterwards), and the bonds for the performance of
the marriage were redelivered.
Next morning my lord asked me if I was willing to see my daughter
before she sailed to the Indies. ' My lord ', said I, ' as the seeing of her
was the occasion of this great breach that has happened between us, so
if your lordship will let me have a sight of her and a reconciliation with
you at the same time, there is nothing can be more desirable to me, or
would more contribute to my happiness during the rest of my life.'
'No, madam', says he, 'I would have you see your daughter, to be
reconciled to her, and give her your blessing (if a blessing can proceed
from you) at parting; but our reconciliation will never be completed till
one of us comes near the verge of life, if then; for I am a man that am
never reconciled without ample amends, which is a thing that is not in
your power to give, without you can alter the course of nature and
recall time.'
On hearing him declare himself so open, I told him that my curse
instead of my blessing would pursue my daughter for being the author of
all the mischiefs that had happened between us. 'No, madam', said he,
'if you had looked upon her as a daughter, heretofore, I should have had
no occasion to have had any breach with you. The whole fault lies at
your own door; for whatever your griefs may inwardly be, I would have
you recollect they were of your own choosing.'
I found I was going to give way to a very violent passion, which would
perhaps be the worse for me, so I left the room and went up to my own
chamber, not without venting bitter reproaches both against my daughter
and her unknown husband.
However, the day she was to go on shipboard, she breakfasted with my
lord, and as soon as it was over, and my lord was gone into his study
to fetch something out, I followed him there, and asked him if he would
give me leave to present a gold repeating watch fo my daughter before
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 415
she went away. I thought he seemed somewhat pleased with this piece
of condescension in me, though it was done more to gain his goodwill
than to express any value I had for her. He told me that he did not
know who I could better make such a present to, and I might give it to
her if I pleased. Accordingly I went and got it out of my cabinet in a
moment, and bringing it to my lord, desired he would give it her from
me. He asked me if I would not give it her myself. I told him no; I
wished her very well, but had nothing to say to her till I was restored
to his lordship's bed and board.
About two hours after all this, the coach was ordered to the door, and
my daughter and her new husband, the husband's sister, and my son
Thomas, all went into it, in order to go to the house of a rich uncle of
the bridegroom's, where they were to dine before they went on board, and
my lord went there in a sedan about an hour after. And having eaten
their dinner, which on this occasion was the most elegant, they all went
on board the Indiaman, where my lord and my son Thomas stayed till
the ship's crew was hauling in their anchors to sail, and then came home
together in the coach, and, it being late in the evening, he told Thomas
he should sup with him that night, after which they went to bed in their
several apartments.
Next morning, when I went to see my lord as usual, he told me that
as he had handsomely provided for my daughter, and sent her to the
Indies with a man of merit and fortune, he sincerely wished her great
prosperity. ' And ', he added, ' to let you see, madam, that I should never
have parted from my first engagements of love to you, had you not laid
yourself so open to censure for your misconduct, my next care shall be
to provide for your son Thomas in a handsome manner, before I concern
myself with my son by you.'
This was the subject of our discourse, with which I was very welt
pleased. I only wished my daughter had been married and sent to the
Indies before I had married myself; but I began to hope that the worst
would be over when Thomas was provided for too, and the son my lord
had by me, who was now at the university, was at home ; which I would
have brought to pass could my will be obeyed, but I was not to enjoy
that happiness.
My lord and I lived with a secret discontent of each other for near a
twelvemonth before I saw any provision made for my son Thomas, and then
I found my lord bought him a very large plantation in Virginia, and was
furnishing him to go there in a handsome manner; he also gave him four
quarter parts in four large trading West India vessels, in which he boarded
a great quantity of merchandise to traffic with when he came to the end
of his journey, so that he was a very rich man before he (what we call)
came into the world.
The last article that was to be managed, was to engage my son to a
wife before he left Holland ; and it happened that the gentleman who was
the seller of the plantation my husband bought, had been a Virginia
planter in that colony a great many years; but his life growing on the
decline, and his health very dubious, he had come to Holland with an
intent to sell his plantation, and then had resolved to send for his wife,
son, and daughter, to come to him with the return of the next ships.
This gentleman had brought over with him the pictures of all his family,
which he was showing to my lord at the same time he was paying for
41 6 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
the effects; and on seeing the daughter's picture, which appeared to him
very beautiful, my lord inquired if she was married. 'No, my lord', says
the planter, 'but I believe I shall dispose of her soon after she comes
to me.' 'How old is your daughter?' said my lord. 'Why, my lord',
replied the planter, ' she is twenty-two years of age.' Then my lord asked
my son if he should like that young lady for a wife. 'Nothing, my lord',
said Thomas, ' could lay a greater obligation upon me than your lordship's
providing me with a wife.'
'Now, sir', said my lord to the planter, 'what do you say to a match
between this young gentleman and your daughter? Their ages are agreeable,
and, if you can, or will, give her more fortune than he has, his shall be
augmented. You partly know his substance, by the money I have
now paid you.'
This generous proposal of my lord's pleased the planter to a great
degree, and he declared to my lord that he thought nothing could be a
greater favour done him, for two reasons ; one of which was, that he was
certain the young gentleman was as good as he appeared, because he had
taken for his plantation so large a sum of money as none but a gentleman
could pay. The next reason was, that this marriage, to be performed as
soon as my son arrived there, would be a great satisfaction to his wife,
whose favourite the daughter was. 'For', added he, 'my wife will not
only have the pleasure of seeing her daughter settled on what was our
own hereditary estate, but also see her married to a man of substance,
without the danger of crossing the seas to be matched to a person equal
to herself.'
'Pray, sir', said my lord, 'let me hear what fortune you are willing to
give with your daughter; you have but two children, and I know you
must be rich.' 'Why, my lord', replied the planter, 'there is no denying
that; but you must remember I have a son as well as a daughter to
provide for, and he I intend to turn into the mercantile way as soon as
he arrives safe from Virginia. I have, my lord', continued he, 'a very
large stock-in-trade there, as warehouses of tobacco, etc., lodged in the
custom-houses of the ports, to the value of £, 7000, to which I will add
£3000 in money, and I hope you will look upon that as a very competent
estate; and when the young gentleman's fortune is joined to that, I
believe he will be the richest man in the whole American colonies of
his age.'
It was then considered between my lord and Thomas, that no woman
with a quarter of that fortune would venture herself over to the West
Indies with a man that had ten times as much ; so it being hinted to the
planter that my lord had agreed to the proposals, they promised to meet
the next morning to settle the affair.
In the evening, my lord, with Thomas in his company, hinted the above
discourse to me. I was frightened almost out of my wits to think what
a large sum of money had been laid out for my son, but kept what I
thought to myself. It was agreed that my son was to marry the old
planter's daughter, and a lawyer was sent for, with instructions to draw
up all the writings for the marriage-settlement, etc., and the next morning
a messenger came from the planter with a note to my lord, letting him
know, if it was not inconvenient, he would wait on his lordship to
breakfast. He came soon after, with a Dutch merchant of great estate, who
was our neighbour at The Hague, where they settled every point in question,
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 417
and the articles were all drawn up and signed by the several parties the
next day before dinner.
There was nothing now remaining but my son's departure to his new
plantation in Virginia. Great despatch was made that he might be ready
to sail in one of his own ships, and take the advantage of an English
convoy, which was almost ready to sail. My lord sent several valuable
presents to my son's lady, as did her father; and, as I was at liberty in
this case to do as I would, and knowing my Irrd had a very great value
for my son, I thought that the richer my presents were, the more he would
esteem me (but there was nothing in it, the enmity he took against me
had taken root in his heart); so I sent her a curious set of china, the
very best I could buy, with a silver tea-kettle and lamp, tea-pot, sugar-
dish, cream-pot, tea-spoons, etc., and as my lord had sent a golden repeater,
I added to it a golden equipage, with my lord's picture hanging to it,
finely painted. (This was another thing I did purposely to please him,
but it would not do.) A few days after, he came to take his leave of
me, by my lord's order, and at my parting with him I shed abundance of
tears, to think I was then in an almost strange place, no child that could
then come near me, and under so severe a displeasure of my lord, that I
had very little hopes of ever being friends with him again.
My life did not mend after my son was gone; all I could do would
not persuade my lord to have any free conversation with me. And at this
juncture it was that the foolish jade Amy, who was now advanced in years,
was catched in a conversation with one of my lord's men, which was not
to her credit; for, it coming to his ears, she was turned out of the house
by my lord's orders, and was never suffered to come into it again during
his lifetime, and I did not dare to speak a word in her favour for fear
he should retort upon me, 'Like mistress, like maid.'
I could hear nothing of Amy for the first three months after she had
left me, till one day, as I was looking out of a dining-room window, I
saw her pass by, but I did not dare ask her to come in, for fear my lord
should hear of her being there, which would have been adding fuel to the
fire; however, she, looking up at the house, saw me. I made a motion
to her to stay a little about the door, and in the meantime I wrote a note,
and dropped it out of the window, in which I told her how I had lived
in her absence, and desired her to write me a letter, and carry it the
next day to my sempstress's house, who would take care to deliver it to
me herself.
I told Isabel that the should let me know when the milliner came
again, for I had some complaints to her about getting up my best suit of
Brussels lace night-clothes. On the Saturday following, just after I had
dined, Isabel came into my apartment. 'My lady', says she, 'the milliner
is in the parlour; will you be pleased to have her sent upstairs, or will
your ladyship be pleased to go down to her?' 'Why, send her up,
Isabel', said I, 'she is as able to come to me as I am to go to her; I
will see her here.'
When the milliner came into my chamber, I sent Isabel to my dressing-
room to fetch a small parcel of fine linen which lay there, and in the
Interim she gave me Amy's letter, which I put into my pocket, and, having
pretended to be angry about my linen, I gave her the small bundle Isabel
brought, and bid her be sure to do them better for the future.
She promised me she would, and went about her business; and when
27
41 8 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
she was gone, I opened Amy's letter, and having read it, found ft was to
the following purpose, viz. that she had opened a coffee-house, and
furnished the upper part of it to let out in lodgings; that she kept two
maids and a man, but that the trade of it did not answer as she had
reason to expect; she was willing to leave it off, and retire into the country
to settle for the rest of her life, but was continually harassed by such
disturbance in her conscience as made her unfit to resolve upon anything,
and wished there was a possibility for her to see me, that she might open
her mind with the same freedom as formerly, and have my advice upon
some particular affairs ; and such-like discourse.
' It was a pretty while before I heard from Amy again, and when I did,
the letter was in much the same strain as the former, excepting that things
were coming more to a crisis ; for she told me in it that her money was
so out, that is, lent as ready money to traders, and trusted for liquors in
her house, that if she did not go away this quarter, she should be obliged
to run away the next. I very much lamented her unfortunate case, but
that could be no assistance to her, as I had it not now in my power to
see her when I would, or give her what I pleased, as it had always used
to be ; so all I could do was to wish her well, and leave her to take care
of herself.
About this tim« it was that I perceived my lord began to look very
pale and meagre, and I had a notion he was going into a consumption,
but did not dare tell him so, for fear he should say I was daily looking
for his death, and was now overjoyed that I saw a shadow of it; never
theless, he soon after began to find himself in a very bad state of health,
for he said to me one morning, that my care would not last long, for he
believed he was seized by a distemper it was impossible for him to get
over. 'My lord', said I, 'you do not do me justice in imagining anything
concerning me that does not tend to your own happiness, for, if your body
is out of order, my mind suffers for it.' Indeed, had he died then, without
making a will, it might have been well for me; but he was not so near
death as that; and, what was worse, the distemper, which proved a con
sumption (which was occasioned chiefly by much study, watchings,
melancholy thoughts, wilful and obstinate neglect of taking care of his
body, and such like things), held him nine weeks and three days after
this, before it carried him off.
He now took country lodgings, most delighfully situated both for air
and prospect, and had a maid and man to attend him. I begged on my
knees to go with him, but could not get that favour granted; for, if I
could, it might have been the means of restoring me to his favour, but
our breach was too wide to be thoroughly reconciled, though I used all
the endearing ways I had ever had occasion for to creep into his favour.
Before he went out of town he locked and sealed up every room in the
house, excepting my bedchamber, dressing-room, one parlour, and all the
offices and rooms belonging to the servants; and, as he had now all my
substance in his power, I was in a very poor state for a countess, and
began to wish, with great sincerity, that I had never seen him, after I had
lived so happy a life as I did at the Quaker's. For notwithstanding our
estates joined together, when we were first married, amounted to £3376
per annum, and near £18,000 ready money, besides jewels, plate, goods,
etc., of a considerable value, yet we had lived in a very high manner since
our taking the title of earl and countess upon us; setting; up a great
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 4X9
house, and had a number of servants ; our equipage, such as coach, chariot,
horses, and their attendants ; a handsome fortune my lord had given to
my daughter, and a very noble one to my son, whom he loved very well,
not for his being my son, but for the courteous behaviour of him in never
aspiring to anything above a valet, after he knew who he was, till my lord
made him his secretary or clerk. Besides all these expenses, my lord,
having flung himself into the trade to the Indies, both East and West,
had sustained many great and uncommon losses, occasioned by his mer
chandise being mostly shipped in English bottoms ; and that nation having
declared war against the crown of Spain, he was one of the first and
greatest sufferers by that power; so that, on the whole, our estate, which
was as above, dwindled to about £ 1000 per annum, and our home stock,
viz., about £, 17,000, was entirely gone. This, I believe, was another great
mortification to his lordship, and one of the main things that did help to
hasten his end ; for he was observed, both by me and all his servants, to
be more cast down at hearing of his losses, that were almost daily sent
to him, than he was at what had happened between him and me.
Nothing could give more uneasiness than the damage our estate sustained
by this traffic. He looked upon it as a mere misfortune that no person
could avoid; but I, besides that, thought it was a judgment upon me, to
punish me in the loss of all my ill-got gain. But when I found that his
own fortune began to dwindle as well as mine, I was almost ready to
think it was possible his lordship might have been as wicked a liver as I
had, and the same vengeance as had been poured upon me for my repeated
crimes might also be a punishment for him.
As his lordship was in a bad state of health, and had removed to a
country lodging, his study and countinghouse, as well as his other rooms,
were locked and sealed up; all business was laid aside, excepting such
letters as came to him were carried to his lordship to be opened, read,
and answered. I also went to see him morning and evening, but he would
not suffer me to stay with him a single night. I might have had another
room in the same house, but was not willing the people who kept it
should know that there was a misunderstanding between us ; so I contented
myself to be a constant visitor, but could not persuade him to forgive
me the denying of my daughter, and acting the part of Roxana, because
I had kept those two things an inviolable secret from him and everybody
else but Amy, and it was carelessness in her conduct at last that was the
foundation of all my future misery.
As my lord's weakness increased, so his ill temper, rather than diminish,
increased also. 1 could do nothing to please him, and began to think
that he was only pettish because he found it was his turn to go out of
the world first. A gentleman that lived near him, as well as his chaplain,
persuaded him to have a physician, to know in what state his health was;
and by all I could learn, the doctor told him to settle his worldly affairs
as soon as he conveniently could. 'For', says he, 'although your death
is not certain, still your life is very precarious.'
The first thing he did after this was to send for the son he had by me
from the university. He came the week afterwards, and the tutor with
him, to take care of his pupil. The next day after my lord came home,
and, sending for six eminent men that lived at The Hague, he made his
will, and signed it in the presence of them all ; and they, with the chaplain,
were appointed the executors of it, and guardians of my son.
420 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
As I was in a great concern at his making his will unknown to me,
and before we were friends, I thought of it in too serious a manner not
to speak about it. I did not know where to apply first, but after mature
consideration sent for the chaplain, and he coming to me, I desired he
would give me the best intelligence he could about it. 'My lady', said
he, 'you cannot be so unacquainted with the duty of my function, and the
trust my lord has reposed in me, but you must know I shall go beyond
my trust in relating anything of that nature to you ; all that I can say on
that head is, that I would have you make friends with my lord as soon as
you possibly can, and get him to make another will, or else take the best
care of yourself as lies in your power; for, I assure you, if his lordship
dies, you are but poorly provided for.'
These last words of the chaplain's most terribly alarmed me. I knew
not what to do; and, at last, as if I was to be guided by nothing but
the furies, I went to his chamber, and, after inquiring how he did, and
hearing that he was far from well, I told him I had heard he had made
his will. 'Yes', said he, 'I have; and what then?' 'Why, my lord',
replied I, 'I thought it would not have been derogatory to both our
honours for you to have mentioned it to me before you did it, and have
let me known in what manner you intended to settle your estate. This
would have been but acting like a man to his wife, even if you had
married me without a fortune; but, as you received so handsomely with
me, you ought to have considered it as my substance, as well as your
own, that you were going to dispose of.'
My lord looked somewnat staggered at what I had said, and, pausing a
little while, answered, that he thought, and also looked upon it as a
granted opinion, that after a man married a woman, all that she was in
possession of was his, excepting he had made a prior writing or settlement
to her of any part or all she was then possessed of. 'Besides, my lady',
added he, 'I have married both your children, and given them very noble
fortunes, especially your son. I have also had great losses in trade, both
by sea and land, since you delivered your fortune to me, and even at this
time, notwithstanding the appearance we make in the world, I am not
worth a third of what I was when we came to settle in Holland; and
then, here is our own son shall be provided for in a handsome manner
by me; for I am thoroughly convinced there will be but little care taken
of him, if I leave anything in your power for that purpose : witness Thomas
and Susanna.'
'My lord', said I, 'I am not come into your chamber to know what
care you have taken of our child. I do not doubt but you have acted
like a father by it. What I would be informed in is, what I am to depend
upon in case of your decease; which I, however, hope may be a great
many years off yet.' 'You need not concern yourself about that', said
he; 'your son will take care that you shall not want; but yet, I will tell
you, too', said he, 'that it may prevent your wishing for my death. I
have, in my will, left all I am possessed of in the world to my son,
excepting £1500; out of that there is £500 for you, £500 among my
executors, and the other £ 500 is to bury me, pay my funeral expenses,
and what is overplus I have ordered to be equally divided among
my servants.'
When I had heard him pronounce these words, I stared like one that
was frightened out of his senses. 'Five hundred pounds for me!' says I j
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 421
'pray, what <3<T you mean? What! Am I, that brought you so handsom*
a fortune, to be under the curb of my son, and ask him for every penny
I want? No, sir', said I, 'I will not accept it. I expect to be left m full
possession of one-half of your fortune, that I may live the remainder of
my life like your wife.' ' Madam ', replied my lord, ' you may expect what
you please. If you can make it appear since I found you out to be a
jilt that I have looked upon you as my wife, everything shall be altered
and settled just as you desire, which might then be called your willj but,
as the case now stands, the will is mine, and so it shall remain.'
I thought I should have sunk when I had heard him make this solemn
and premeditated declaration. I raved like a mad woman, and, at the end
of my discourse, told him that I did not value what could happen to me,
even if I was forced to beg my bread, for I would stand the test of my
own character; and, as I could get nothing by being an honest woman,
so I should not scruple to declare that 'the son you have left what you
have to is a bastard you had by me several years before we were married.*
'Oh', says he, 'madam, do you think you can frighten me? No, not in
the least; for if you ever mention anything of it, the title, as well as all
the estate, will go to another branch of my family, and you will then be
left to starve in good earnest, without having the least glimpse of hope
to better your fortune ; for ', added he, ' it is not very probable that you
will be courted for a wife by any man of substance at these years; so if
you have a mind to make yourself easy in your present circumstances, you
must rest contented with what I have left you, and not prove yourself a
whore to ruin your child, in whose power it will be to provide for you
in a handsome manner, provided you behave yourself with that respect to
him and me as you ought to do ; for if any words arise about what I have
done, I shall make a fresh will, and, as the laws of this nation will give
me liberty, cut you off with a shilling.'
My own unhappiness, and his strong and lasting resentment, had kept
me at high words, and flowing in tears, for some time ; and, as I was
unwilling anybody should see me in that unhappy condition, I stayed coolly
talking to him, till our son, who had been to several gentlemen's houses
about my lord's business, came home to tell his father the success he had
met with abroad. He brought in with him bank-notes to the amount of
£12,000, which he had received of some merchants he held a correspondence
with; at which my lord was well pleased, for he was pretty near out of
money at this juncture. After our son had delivered the accounts and
bills, and had withdrawn, I asked my lord, in a calm tone, to give me
the satisfaction of knowing in what manner the losses he had complained
to have suffered consisted. 'You must consider, my lord', said I, 'that
according to what you have been pleased to inform me of, we are upwards
of £2000 per annum, besides about £17,000 ready money, poorer than
we were when we first came to settle in Holland.'
' You talk ', replied my lord, ' in a very odd manner. Do not you know
that I had children of my own by a former wife? and of these I have
taken so much care as to provide with very handsome fortunes, which are
settled irrevocably upon them. I have, Providence be thanked, given each
of them £ 5000, and that is laid in East India stock, sufficient to keep
them genteelly, above the frowns of fortune, and free from the fear of
want. This, joined to the money I mentioned to you before, as losses at
sea, deaths, and bankruptcies, your children's fortunes, which are larger
422 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
than my own children's, the buying the estate we live on, and several
other things, which my receipts and notes will account for, as you may
see after my decease. I have, to oblige you on this head, almost descended
to particulars, which I never thought to have done; but as I have, rest
yourself contented, and be well assured that I have not wilfully thrown
any of your substance away.'
I could not tell what he meant by saying he had not wilfully thrown
any of my substance away. These words puzzled me, for I found by his
discourse I was to have but £, 500 of all I had brought him, at his decease,
which I looked upon to be near at hand. I had but one thing that was
any satisfaction to me, which was this: I was assured by him that he
had not bestowed above the £15,000 he mentioned to me, on his children
by his former wife; and, on an exact calculation, he made it appear that
he had bestowed on my son Thomas alone near £13,000 in buying the
plantation, shares in vessels, and merchandise, besides several valuable
presents sent to his wife, both by him and me; and, as for my daughter
Susanna, she was very well married to a factor, with a fortune of £2000
(which was a great sum of money for a woman to have who was immedi
ately to go to the East Indies), besides some handsome presents given to
her both by him and me. In fact, her fortune was, in proportion, as large
as her brother's, for there is but very few women in England or Holland
with £2000 fortune that would venture to the coast of Malabar, even to
have married an Indian king, much more to have gone over with a person
that no one could tell what reception he might meet with, or might be
recalled at the pleasure of the Company upon the least distaste taken by
the merchants against him. Neither would I, though her own mother,
hinder her voyage, for she had been the author of all the misfortunes that
had happened to me; and, if my speaking a word would have saved her
from the greatest torment, I believe I should have been quite silent. And
I had but one reason to allege for the girl's going so hazardous a voyage,
which is, she knew that the match was proposed by my lord, and if he
had not thought it would have been advantageous for her, he would never
have given £2000 to her husband as a fortune; and again, as my lord
was the only friend she had in our family, she was cunning enough to
know that the bare disobliging of him would have been her ruin for ever
after ; to which I may add, that it is possible, as she had made so much
mischief about me, she was glad to get what she could and go out of
the way, for fear my lord and I should be friends ; which, if that had
happened, she would have been told never to come to our house any more.
As my lord's death began to be daily the discourse of the family, I
thought that he might be more reconciled if I entered into the arguments
again, pro and con, which we had together before. I did so, but all I
could say was no satisfaction, till I importuned him on my knees, with a
flood of tears. 'Madam', said he, 'what would you have me do?' 'Do,
my lord', said I, 'only be so tender to my years and circumstances as
to alter your will, or, at least, add a codicil to it; I desire nothing more,
for I declare I had rather be a beggar than live under my child's jurisdic
tion.' To this he agreed with some reluctance, and he added a codicil
to his will.
This pleased me greatly, and gave me comfort, for I dreaded nothing so
much, after all my high living, as being under any person, relation or
stranger, and whether they exercised any power over me or not.
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 423
I saw the lawyer come out of the chamber first, but was above asking
him any questions ; the next were the executors and chaplain. I asked the
last how they came to have words. He did not answer me directly, but
begged to know whose pleasure it was to have the codicil annexed. 'It
was mine, sir' replied I; 'and it made me very uneasy before I could
have the favour granted.' He only replied by saying • Ah ! poor lady, the
favour, as you are pleased to term it, is not calculated for any benefit to
you; think the worst you can of it.'
I was terribly uneasy at what the chaplain had said, but I imagined to
myself that I could not be worse off than I thought I should be before
the codicil was annexed ; and, as he withdrew without saying any more, I was
fain to rest satisfied with what I had heard, and that amounted to nothing.
The next day after this, the physicians that attended my lord told him
it was time for him to settle his worldly affairs, and prepare himself for,
a hereafter. I now found all was over, and I had no other hopes of his
life than the physicians' declaration of his being near his death. For it
often happens that the gentlemen of the faculty give out that a man is
near his death, to make the cure appear to be the effect of their great
skill in distempers and medicine; as others, when they cannot find out
the real disease, give out that a man's end is near, rather than discover
their want of judgment; and this I thought might be the case with our
doctors of physic,
Our son was still kept from the university, and lodged at the house of
one of his future guardians; but when he heard that his father was so
near his end, he was very little out of his presence, for he dearly loved
him. My lord sent the day before his death to lock and seal up all the
doors in his dwelling-house at The Hague; and the steward had orders,
in case of my lord's decease, not to let anybody come in, not even his
lady (who had for some time lodged in the same house with her lord),
without an order from the executors.
The keys of the doors were carried to him, and as he saw his death
approach, he prepared for it, and, in fact, resigned up the keys of every
thing to the executors, and, having bid them all a farewell, they were
dismissed. The physicians waited; but as the verge of life approached,
and it was out of their power to do him any service, he gave them a bill
of £i 100 for the care they had taken of him, and dismissed them.
I now went into the chamber, and kneeling by his bed-side, kissed him
with great earnestness, and begged of him, if ever I had disobliged him
in any respect, to forgive me. He sighed, and said he most freely forgave
me everything that I had reason to think I had offended him in; but he
added ' If you had been so open in your conversation to me before our
marriage as to discover your family and way of life, I know not but that
I should have married you as I did. I might now have been in a good
state of health, and you many years have lived with all the honours due
to the Countess de Wintselsheim.' These words drew tears from my eyes,
and they being the last of any consequence he said, they had the greater
impression upon me. He faintly bid me a long farewell, and said, as he
had but a few moments to live, he hoped I would retire, and leave him
with our son and the chaplain. I withdrew into my own chamber, almost
drowned in tears, and my son soon followed me out, leaving the chaplain
with his father, offering up his prayers to Heaven for the receiving of his
soul into the blessed mansions of eternal bliss.
424 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
• A few minutes after our son went into the chamber with me again, and
received his father's last blessing. The chaplain now saw him departing,
and was reading the prayer ordered by the Church for that occasion ; and,
while he was doing it, my lord laid his head gently on the pillow, and
turning on his left side, departed this life with all the calmness of a com
posed mind, without so much as a groan, in the fifty-seventh year of his age.
As soon as he was dead an undertaker was sent for, by order of the
executors, who met together immediately to open his will, and take care
of all my son's effects. I was present when it was opened and read ; but
how terribly I was frightened at hearing the codicil repeated, any person
may imagine by the substance of it, which was to this effect; that if I
had given me any more after his decease than the £500 he had left me,
the £500 left to his executors, and the £1000 of my son's estate (which
was now a year's interest ) , was to be given to such poor families at The
Hague as were judged to be in the greatest want of it; not to be divided
into equal sums, but every family to have according to their merit and
necessity. But this was not all. My son was tied down much harder;
for if it was known that he gave me any relief, let my condition be ever
so bad, either by himself, by his order, or in any manner of way, device,
or contrivance that he could think of, one-half of his estate, which was
particularly mentioned, was to devolve to the executors for ever; and if
they granted me ever so small a favour, that sum was to be equally
divided among the several parishes where they lived, for the benefit of
the poor.
Any person would have been surprised to have seen how we all sat
staring at each other; for, though it was signed by all the executors, yet
they did not know tlie substance of it till it was publicly read, excepting
the chaplain; and he, as I mentioned before, had told me the codicil had
better never have been added.
I was now in a fine dilemma; had the title of a countess, with £500,
and nothing else to subsist on but a very good wardrobe of clothes,
which were not looked upon by my son and the executors to be my late
lord's property, and which were worth, indeed, more than treble the sum
I had left me.
I immediately removed from the lodgings, and left them to bury the
body when they thought proper, and retired to a lodging at a private
gentleman's house, about a mile from The Hague. I was now resolved
to find out Amy, being, as it were, at liberty; and accordingly went to
the house where she had lived, and, finding that empty, inquired for her
among the neighbours, who gave various accounts of what had become
of her; bnt one of them had a direction left at his house where she might
be found. I went to the place and found the house shut up, and all the
windows broken, the sign taken down, and the rails and benches pulled
from before the door. I was quite ashamed to ask for her there, for it
was a very scandalous neighbourhood, and I concluded that Amy had
been brought to low circumstances, and had kept a house of ill-fame, and
was either run away herself, or was forced to it by the officers of justice.
However, as nobody knew me here, I went into a shop to buy some
trifles, and asked who had lived in the opposite house (meaning Amys).
'Really, madam', says the woman, 'I do not well know; but it was a
woman who kept girls for gentlemen ; she went on in that wickedness for
some time, till a gentleman was robbed there of his watch and a diamond
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 425
ring, on which the women were all taken up, and committed to the house
of correction ; but the young ones are now at liberty, and keep about the
town.' 'Pray', said I, 'what may have become of the old beast that
could be the ruin of those young creatures ? ' ' Why, I do not well know ',
says she; 'but I have heard that, as all her goods were seized upon, she
was sent to the poor-house ; but it soon after appearing that she had the
French disease to a violent degree, was removed to a hospital to be taken
care of, but I believe she will never live to come out; and if she should
be so fortunate, the gentleman that was robbed, finding that she was the
guilty person, intends to prosecute her to the utmost rigour of the law.'
I was sadly surprised to hear this character of Amy; for I thought
whatever house she might keep, that the heyday of her blood had been
over. But I found that she had not been willing to be taken for an old
woman, though near sixty years of age; and my not seeing or hearing
from her for some time past was a confirmation of what had been told me.
I went home sadly dejected, considering how I might hear of her. I
had known her for a faithful servant to me, in all my bad and good
fortune, and was sorry that at the last such a miserable end should
overtake her, though she, as well as I, deserved it several years before.
A few days after I went pretty near the place I had heard she was, and
hired a poor woman to go and inquire how Amy did, and whether
she was likely to do well. The woman returned, and told me that the
matron, or mistress, said, the person I inquired after died in a salivation
two days before, and was buried the last night in the cemetery belonging
to the hospital.
I was very sorry to hear of Amy's unhappy and miserable death; for
when she came first into my service she was really a sober girl, very
witty and brisk, but never impudent, and her notions in general were
good, till my forcing her, as it were, to have an intrigue with the jeweller.
She had also lived with me between thirty and forty years, in the several
stages of life as I had passed through; and as I had done nothing but
what she was privy to, so she was the best person in the universal world
to consult with and take advice from, as my circumstances now were.
I returned to my lodgings much chagrined, and very disconsolate; for
as I had for several years lived at the pinnacle of splendour and satis
faction, it was a prodigious heart-break to me now to fall from upwards
of £3000 per annum to a poor £500 principal.
A few days after this I went to see my son, the Earl of Wintselsheim.
He received me in a very courteous (though far from a dutiful) manner.
We talk ed together near an hour upon general things, but had no particular
discount- about my late lord's effects, as I wanted to have. Among other
things he told me that his guardians had advised him to go to the
university for four years longer, when he would come of age, and his
estate would be somewhat repaired ; to which he said he had agreed ; and
for that purpose all the household goods and equipages were to be disposed
of the next week, and the servants dismissed. I immediately asked if it
would be looked upon as an encroachment upon his father's will if I took
Isabel (who had been my waiting-maid ever since I came from England)
to live with me. 'No, my lady', very readily replied he; 'as she will be
dismissed from me, she is certainly at liberty and full freedom to do for
herself as soon and in the best manner she possibly can.' After this I
stayed about a quarter of an hour with him, and then I sent for Isabel,
426 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
to know if she would come and live with me on her dismission from her
lord's. The girl readily consented, for I had always been a good mistress
to her; and then I went to my own lodgings in my son's coach, which
he had ordered to be got ready to carry me home.
Isabel came, according to appointment, about ten days after, and told
me the house was quite cleared both of men and movables, but said her
lord ( meaning my son ) was not gone to the university as yet, but was at
one of his guardians' houses, where he would stay about a month, and
that he intended to make a visit before his departure, which he did,
attended by my late chaplain; and I, being in handsome lodgings, received
them with all the complaisance and love as was possible, telling them
that time and circumstances having greatly varied with me, whatever they
saw amiss I hoped they would be so good as to look over it at that time,
by considering the unhappy situation of my affairs.
After this visit was over, and I had myself and Isabel to provide for,
handsome lodgings to keep (which were as expensive as they were fine),
and nothing but my principal money to live on (I mean what I happened
to have in my pocket at my lord's death, for I had not been paid my
£,$00 as yet), I could not manage for a genteel maintenance as I had
done some years before. I thought of divers things to lay my small sums
out to advantage, but could fix on nothing ; for it always happens
that when people have but a trifle, they are very dubious in the dis
posal of it.
Having been long resolving in my mind, I at last fixed on merchandise
as the most genteel and profitable of anything else. Accordingly I went
to a merchant who was intimate with my late lord, and letting him know
how my circumstances were, he heartily condoled with me, and told me
he could help me to a share in two ships — one was going a trading
voyage to the coast of Africa, and the other a-privateering. I was now
in a dilemma, and was willing to have a share in the trader, but was
dubious of being concerned in the privateer; for 1 had heard strange stories
told of the gentlemen concerned in that way of business. Nay, I had
been told, but with what certainty I cannot aver, that there was a set of
men who took upon them to issue ships, and as they always knew to
what port they are bound, notice was sent to their correspondent abroad
to order out their privateers on the coast the other sailed, and they knowing
the loading, and the numbers of hands and guns were on board, soon
made prizes of the vessels, and the profits were equally divided, after
paying what was paid for their insurance, among them all.
However, I at last resolved, by the merchant's advice, to have a share
in the trader, and the next day he overpersuaded me to have a share in
the privateer also. But that I may not lay out my money before I have
it, it may not be amiss to observe that I went to the executors and received
my £ 500 at an hour's notice, and then went to the merchant's to know
what the shares would come to, and being told £1500, I was resolved to
raise the money-, so I went home, and, with my maid Isabel, in two days'
time disposed of as many of my clothes as fetched me near £1100, which
joined to the above sum, I carried to the merchant's where the writings
were drawn, signed, sealed, and delivered to me in the presence of two
witnesses, who went with me for that purpose. The ships were near ready
for sailing; the trader was so well manned and armed, as well as the
privateer, that the partners would not consent to insure them, and out
THE LIFE OF ROXANA 427
they botn sailed, though from different ports, and I depended on getting
a good estate between them.
When I was about this last ship a letter came from the count, my son,
full of tender expressions of his duty to me, in which I was informed that
he was going again to the university at Paris, where he should remain
four years ; after that he intended to make the tour of Europe, and then
come and settle at The Hague. I returned him thanks in a letter for his
compliment, wished him all happiness, and a safe return to Holland, and
desired that he would write to me from time to time that I might hear
of his welfare, which was all I could now expect of him. But this was
the last time I heard from him, or he from me.
In about a month's time the news came that the privateer ( which sailed
under British colours, and was divided into eight shares) had taken a
ship, and was bringing it into the Texel, but that it accidentally foundered,
and being chained to the privateer, had, in sinking, like to have lost that
too. Two or three of the hands got on shore, and came to The Hague i
but how terribly I was alarmed any one may judge, when I heard the
ship the privateer had was the Newfoundland merchantman, as I had
bought two shares in out of four. About two months after news was
current about The Hague of a privateer or merchantman, one of them of
the town, though not known which, having an engagement in the Mediter
ranean, in which action both the privateer and trader was lost. Soon after
their names were publicly known, and, in the end, my partners heard that
they were our ships, and unhappily sailing under false colours (a thing
often practised in the time of war), and never having seen each other,
had, at meeting, a very smart engagement, each fighting for life and honour,
till two unfortunate shots; one of them, viz., the privateer, was sunk by
a shot between wind and water, and the trader unhappily blown up by a
ball falling in the powder-room. There were only two hands of the trader,
and three of the privateer, that escaped, and they all fortunately met at
one of the partners' houses, where they confirmed the truth of this
melancholy story, and to me a fatal loss.
What was to be done now? I had no money, and but few clothes
left ; there was no hope of subsistence from my son or his guardians ; they
were tied down to be spectators of my misfortunes, without affording me
any redress, even if they would.
Isabel, though I was now reduced to the last penny, would live with
me still, and, as I observed before and may now repeat, I was in a pretty
situation to begin the world — upwards of sixty years of age, friendless,
scanty of clothes, and but very little money.
I proposed to Isabel to remove from lodgings and retire to Amsterdam,
where I was not known, and might turn myself into some little way of
business, and work for that bread now which had been too often squandered
away upon very trifles. And, upon consideration, I found myself in a worse
condition than I thought, for I had nothing to recommend me to Heaven,
either in works or thoughts; had even banished from my mind all the
cardinal and moral virtues, and had much more reason to hide myself
from the sight of God, if possible, than I had to leave The Hague, that
I might not be known of my fellow-creatures. And farther to hasten our
removing to Amsterdam, I recollected I was involved in debt for money
to purchase a share in the Newfoundland trader, which was lost, and my
creditors daily threatened me with an arrest to make me pay them.
428 THE LIFE OF ROXANA
I soon discharged my lodgings and went with Isabel to Amsterdam,
where I thought, as I was advanced in years, to give up all I could raise
in the world, and on the sale of everything I had to go into one of the
Proveniers' houses, where I should be settled for life. But as I could not
produce enough money for it, I turned it into a coffee-house near the
Stadt-house, where I might have done well; but as soon as I was settled
one of my Hague creditors arrested me for a debt of £75, and I, not
having a friend in the world of whom to raise the money, was, in a
shameful condition, carried to the common jail, where poor Isabel followed
me with showers of tears, and left me inconsolable for my great misfor
tunes. Here, without some very unforeseen accident, I shall never go out
of it until I am carried to my grave, for which my much-offended God
prepare me as soon as possible.
The continuation of the Life of Roxana, by Isabel Johnson, "who had
been her waiting-maid, from the time sht was thrown into jail to tht
time of her death:
After my lady, as it was my duty to call her, was thrown into jail for
a debt she was unable to pay, she gave her mind wholly up to devotion.
Whether it was from a thorough sense of her wretched state, or any other
reason, I could never learn ; but this I may say, that she was a sincere
penitent, and in every action had all the behaviour of a Christian. By
degrees all the things she had in the world were sold, and she began to
find an inward decay upon her spirits. In this interval she repeated all
the passages of her ill-spent life to me, and thoroughly repented of every
bad action, especially the little value she had for her children, which were
honestly born and bred. And having, as she believed, made her peace
with God, she died with mere grief on the 2nd of July 1742, in the sixty-
fifth year of her age, and was decently buried by me in the churchyard
belonging to the Lutherans, in the city of Amsterdam.
THE END
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