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Transcriber's Notes:
This book contains inconsistent punctuation and various misspellings
which have been retained as they appear in the original. An Errata List
with unresolved printer errors can be found at the end of the book.
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than one letter is in superscript. The illustration at page 136 was
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THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
OLINDA'S ADVENTURES:
Or the Amours of a Young Lady
(1718)
_Introduction by_ ROBERT ADAMS DAY
PUBLICATION NUMBER 138
WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES
1969
GENERAL EDITORS
William E. Conway, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
George Robert Guffey, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Maximillian E. Novak, _University of California, Los Angeles_
ASSOCIATE EDITOR
David S. Rodes, _University of California, Los Angeles_
ADVISORY EDITORS
Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_
James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_
Ralph Cohen, _University of Virginia_
Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_
Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_
Earl Miner, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_
Everett T. Moore, _University of California, Los Angeles_
Lawrence Clark Powell, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
James Sutherland, _University College, London_
H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_
Robert Vosper, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
Edna C. Davis, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
Mary Kerbret, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_
INTRODUCTION
A standard modern history of the English novel speaks of "the appearance
of the novel round about 1700. Nothing that preceded it in the way of
prose fiction can explain it."[1] Though today many scholars would
assert that "nothing" is too strong a term, just how much of the
original fiction written under the later Stuarts could "explain" Defoe
and Richardson? Most late seventeenth-century novels, it is true, are
rogue biographies, scandal-chronicles, translations and imitations of
French _nouvelles_, or short sensational romances of love, intrigue, and
adventure with fantastic plots and wooden characters. Only occasionally
was a tale published which showed that it was not examples of the
novelist's craft that were wanting to inspire the achievement of a
Defoe, but rather the sustained application of that craft over hundreds
of pages by the unique combination of talents of a Defoe himself.
Such a novel is _Olinda's Adventures_, a brief epistolary narrative of
1693, a minor but convincing demonstration of the theory that a literary
form such as the novel develops irregularly, by fits and starts, and of
the truism that a superior mind can produce superior results with the
most seemingly ungrateful materials. Of Defoe, _Olinda's Adventures_
must appear a modest precursor indeed; but measured, as a
realistic-domestic novel, against the English fiction of its day, it is
surprisingly mature; and if we believe the bookseller and assign its
authorship to a girl of fourteen, we must look to the juvenilia of Jane
Austen for the first comparable phenomenon.
_Olinda's Adventures_ seems to owe what success it had entirely to the
bookseller Samuel Briscoe. It appeared in 1693 in the first volume of
his epistolary miscellany _Letters of Love and Gallantry and Several
Other Subjects_. _All Written by Ladies_, the second volume following in
1694.[2] It may have been the nucleus of the collection, however, since
it begins the volume, and since Briscoe states in "The Bookseller to the
Reader" (sig. A2) that various ladies, hearing that he was going to
print Olinda's letters, have sent in amorous correspondence of their
own--a remark that could indicate some previous circulation in
manuscript. Another edition (or issue) of the miscellany, with a
slightly altered title, was advertised in 1697, but no copy of this is
recorded.[3] Nothing further is heard of _Olinda_ for some years, but
meanwhile Briscoe became something of a specialist in popular epistolary
miscellanies, perhaps because he was a principal employer of Tom Brown,
much of whose output consisted of original and translated "familiar
letters." In 1718 Briscoe assembled a two-volume epistolary collection
with the title _Familiar Letters of Love, Gallantry and Several
Occasions_; this collection was apparently made up of the best and most
popular items in his miscellanies of the past twenty-five years.[4] Here
_Olinda_ appears in much more impressive company than the anonymous
"ladies," for the collection includes the first letter of Heloise to
Abelard (said to be translated by L'Estrange) with actual correspondence
and epistolary fiction by Butler, Mrs. Behn, Dennis, Otway, Etherege,
Dryden, Tom Brown, Mrs. Mary Manley, Farquhar, Mrs. Centlivre, and other
wits. Another edition (or issue) was advertised for W. Chetwood in 1720;
and if the edition of 1724 ("Corrected. With Additions") is really the
sixth, as Briscoe's title-page states, _Olinda_ must have reached a
respectable number of readers.
_Olinda_ enjoyed another distinction, nearly unique for English popular
fiction before 1700. While by the middle of the eighteenth century
novel-readers in France were reveling in the adventures of the English
epigones of Pamela and Clarissa, defending their virtue or exhibiting
their sensibility in translation, the current of literary influence
before Defoe ran overwhelmingly in the opposite direction. _Olinda_
anticipated the Miss Sally Sampsons of sixty years later by appearing in
1695 in a French translation as _Les Amours d'une belle Angloise: ou la
vie et les avantures de la jeune Olinde: Ecrites par Elle mesme en forme
de lettres a un Chevalier de ses amis_.[5] Whether merit or mere chance
accounted for this unusual occurrence it is impossible to say; the
translation of _Olinda_ is a faithful one, though the text is at times
expanded by the insertion of poems into Olinda's letters, with brief
interpolated passages which rather awkwardly account for their presence.
Curiously, the volume closes with a list of books printed for Briscoe,
indicating either that the French translator would do anything to fill
up space, or that Briscoe may have been exploring the possibilities of a
French market for his wares.
While _Olinda_ was ascribed merely to an anonymous "young lady" in the
first edition, the editions of 1718 and 1724 gave it to "Mrs. Trotter."
This lady, who since 1707 had been the wife of the Reverend Patrick
Cockburn, a Suffolk curate, was then living in relative obscurity (her
husband, having lost his living at the accession of George I, was
precariously supporting his family by teaching), though she had enjoyed
a certain literary success in King William's time and would later be
heard from as a "learned lady" and writer on ethics. The fact that her
maiden name was used, though not likely in 1718 to add very much luster
to Briscoe's collection, and the similarities between the heroine's
situation and Mrs. Trotter's own early life (to be discussed later) make
Briscoe's attribution seem worthy of acceptance. It is true that if Mrs.
Trotter wrote _Olinda_ she did it at fourteen. But she had been a child
of astonishing precocity; she had produced a successful blank-verse
tragedy at sixteen, and both Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and Jane Austen
were to perform similar novelistic feats (to say nothing of Daisy
Ashford).
Catherine Trotter (1679-1749)[6] was the daughter of David Trotter, a
naval commander who died on a voyage in 1683, and Sarah Bellenden (or
Ballenden), whose connections with the Maitland and Drummond families
seem to have helped support her and her daughter in genteel poverty
until she gained a pension of L20 per year under Queen Anne; Bishop
Burnet was also her friend and patron. Catherine, a child prodigy,
learned Latin and logic, and is said to have taught herself French; she
extemporized verses in childhood, and at fourteen composed a poem on Mr.
Bevil Higgons's recovery from the smallpox which is no worse than many
"Pindarics" of the period. In 1695, however, Catherine Trotter
established herself as a female wit with the impressive success of her
tragedy _Agnes de Castro_, adapted from Mrs. Behn's retelling of an
episode from Portuguese history. It was produced at the Theatre Royal in
Drury Lane in December, with a prologue by Wycherley and with Mr. and
Mrs. Verbruggen and Colley Cibber in the cast. _The Fatal Friendship_, a
tragedy produced at Lincoln's Inn Fields in 1698, had a moderate
success; two later plays did not. But Mrs. Trotter gained the
acquaintance of Congreve, Dryden, and Farquhar, and was well enough
known to be lampooned in _The Female Wits_ (1704; acted 1696) along with
Mrs. Pix and Mrs. Manley. In 1702 she turned to more serious writing,
and her _Defence of the Essay of Humane Understanding_ and other
treatises defending Locke's theories against the charge of materialism
were impressive enough to earn her a flattering letter from Locke
himself; she also corresponded with Leibniz, who analyzed her theories
at some length. _The History of the Works of the Learned_ printed an
essay of hers on moral obligation in 1743, and in 1747 Warburton
contributed a preface to one of her treatises.
If we are willing to admit that _Olinda_ is Mrs. Trotter's work, its
virtues may be explained in part by seeing it as romanticized
autobiography. Olinda, like Mrs. Trotter, is a wit and something of a
beauty in adolescence, a fatherless child living with a prudent mother
who is anxious to marry her off advantageously, and a solicitor of
favors from noble or wealthy connections. Of the details of her
character and circumstances at this time, however, no information is
certain, and we must rely upon two presumably biased contemporary
portraits. Mrs. Trotter gets off lightly in _The Female Wits_; she is
represented (in "Calista," a small role) as being somewhat catty and
pretentious, vain of her attainments in Latin and Greek (she has read
Aristotle in the original, she says), but her moral character is not
touched upon.[7] Another account of her early life, in Mrs. Manley's
fictionalized autobiography and scandal-chronicle, _The Adventures of
Rivella_ (1714), may be entirely unreliable; but its author was
certainly well acquainted with Mrs. Trotter, and what she says of her
life in the 1690's, what is narrated in _Olinda_, and what Mrs.
Trotter's scholarly memoirist Thomas Birch relates are similar in
outline, similar enough so that we may speculate that the same set of
facts has been "improved" in _Olinda_, perhaps maliciously distorted in
_Rivella_. Cleander, the Platonic friend of the novel, Orontes, the
kidnapped bridegroom, and Cloridon, the inconveniently married noble
lover, appear to be three aspects of the same person; for Mrs. Manley
tells at length (pp. 64-71) of "Calista's" relationship with "Cleander"
(identified in the "key" to _Rivella_ as Mrs. Trotter and Mr. Tilly).[8]
John Tilly, the deputy warden of the Fleet prison, whose mistress Mrs.
Manley became and remained until 1702, first met her, she says, through
Mrs. Trotter, who sought her aid in interceding with her cousin John
Manley, appointed chairman of a committee to look into alleged
misdemeanors of Tilly as prison administrator. Mrs. Trotter, says Mrs.
Manley, was a prude in public, not so in private; she was the first,
"Cleander" said, who ever made him unfaithful to his wife. Mrs. Manley
goes on, with a tantalizing lack of clarity (pp. 101-102):
[Calista's] Mother being in Misfortunes and indebted to him, she
had offered her Daughter's Security, he took it, and moreover the
Blessing of one Night's Lodging, which he never paid her back
again.... [Calista] had given herself Airs about not visiting
_Rivella_, now she was made the Town-Talk by her Scandalous
Intreague with _Cleander_.
Whatever the truth about Mrs. Trotter's adolescent amours may have been,
or whether they have any connection with Olinda's fictional ones, must
remain a matter for speculation; but the artistic merits of _Olinda_ are
in no such doubt. Although technically it may be called an epistolary
novel, its author is no Richardson in marshalling the strategies of the
epistolary technique. Nevertheless, although it is actually a fictional
autobiography divided somewhat arbitrarily into "letters," the
postponement of the letter to Cloridon until the end, the introduction
of what might be called a subplot as Olinda tries to promote Cleander's
courtship of Ambrisia and notes its progress, the breaking off of the
letters at moments of (mild) suspense, the bringing up of the action to
an uncompleted present, all these show an awareness of fictional
mechanics that is far from elementary. Indeed, a contemporary critic
might go so far as to see in the novel's conclusion an anticipation of
the "open-ended" realism of plotting so much applauded at present; for
though Orontes has been got out of the way, Olinda has not yet been
rewarded with Cloridon's hand by a similarly happy turn of fate, and
must patiently await the demise of his inconvenient wife as anyone
outside of melodrama might have to do. The contretemps and
misunderstandings, the trick played on Olinda with regard to Cloridon's
fidelity and her subsequent undeceiving, the closet-scene and its
embarrassments, may smack of the hackneyed devices of stage comedy, but
they are not clumsily handled, and they never make emotional mountains
out of molehills.
Perhaps the most salient qualities of _Olinda_, in contrast to the
fiction of its day, are restraint and control. With the exception of the
rather ridiculous way in which the complications are resolved at the end
(Orontes's sequestration and death from smallpox), everything in the
novel is planned and motivated with some care. Inclinations develop
slowly and believably; the springs of action, barring a few not very
fantastic coincidences and accidents, are anti-romantic--almost too much
so. Indeed, such criteria of the "modern novel" as those proposed by Ian
Watt[9] are all modestly but adequately met. Most important, the
situation and behavior of the heroine, her values, and the world in
which she lives are (but for their sketchy development) what a reader of
Jane Austen might take for granted, yet are all but unique before 1740.
Here is a middle-class heroine who is fully as moral as Pamela, but with
a wry sense of humor; she defers to her mother as a matter of course
when marriage is in question, yet would willingly evade parental
decrees; she is capable of Moll Flanders's examinations of motive, yet
sees through her own hypocrisies; she lives in London in reduced
circumstances and agrees to a marriage of convenience although tempted
to engage in a dashing adultery; and she endures the onset of both love
and jealousy without melodramatic or sentimental posturings.
Other technical achievements of _Olinda_ aside, the portrait of the
heroine as she reveals herself to her confidant is the novel's most
significant feature. A fictional heroine of this early date who can be
sententious without being tedious, who is moderately and believably
witty, who is courted by a goldsmith (even though, conformably to the
times, he is named Berontus) rather than a prince borrowed from
_Astree_, and who satirizes herself soberly for scorning him, who meets
her ideal lover with a business letter rather than in a shipwreck, and
who level-headedly fends him off because he is both married and a
would-be philanderer, is a rarity indeed.
_Olinda_ commends itself to the student of English literary history
principally for two reasons: because it so ably anticipates in embryo so
many features which the English domestic and realistic novel would
develop in its age of maturity and popularity, and because we do not yet
understand, and need to investigate, the cultural factors--literary,
social, and economic--which prevented the kind of achievement it
represents from being duplicated with any frequency for several decades.
Queens College,
City University of New York
NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION
1. Walter Allen, _The English Novel_ (New York, 1968), p. 4.
2. Advertised in the _Term Catalogues_, Trinity Term, 1693 (II, 466);
Wing L1784, L1785.
3. It is listed in Harold C. Binkley, "Letter Writing in English
Literature" (unpublished Harvard dissertation, 1923).
4. They included _Familiar Letters [of] Rochester_ (2 vols., 1697),
_Familiar and Courtly Letters [of] Voiture_ (2 vols., 1700), _A Pacquet
from Will's_ (2nd ed., 1705), _The Works of Mr. Thomas Brown_ (2-4
vols., 1707--), and _The Lady's Pacquet of Letters_ (1710). Briscoe was
not in every case the printer of the first edition.
5. "A Cologne. Chez *****. MDCXCV." A copy of the volume is in the
Bibliotheque de l'Arsenal in Paris.
6. See DNB, _s. v._ "Cockburn, Catherine"; Edmund Gosse, "Catharine
Trotter, the First of the Bluestockings," _Fortnightly Review_, N. S.,
No. 594 (June 1916), pp. 1034-1048; Alison Fleming, "Catherine
Trotter--'the Scots Sappho,'" _Scots Magazine_, XXXIII (1940), 305-314.
The source from which all three are derived is Thomas Birch's _The Works
of Mrs. Catherine Cockburn_ (2 vols., 1751), including letters and a
prefatory biography.
7. The play is reproduced in the Augustan Reprint Society's
Publication No. 124 (Los Angeles, 1967), with an introduction by Lucyle
Hook.
8. Page references are to the "second edition" of 1715. See Paul B.
Anderson, "Mistress Delariviere Manley's Biography," _MP_, XXXIII
(1935-36), 270-271, for further details.
9. _The Rise of the Novel_ (London, 1957), Chapter I.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
The text of this facsimile of _Olinda's Adventures_ (from the second
volume of _Familiar Letters of Love, Gallantry and Several Occasions_
[1718]) is published with the permission of the Trustees of the Newberry
Library. The unique recorded copy (in the Bodleian Library) of the
duodecimo first edition of 1693 is too small and too poorly printed to
be reproduced in the present series.
The SECOND VOLUME
OF
_Familiar Letters_
OF
=LOVE, GALLANTRY=
And several OCCASIONS,
BY THE
WITS _of the Last and Present Age_.
With the best of _VOITURE_'s Letters, Translated
by Mr. DRYDEN and Mr. T. BROWN.
ALSO THE
REMAINS
Of the Celebrated
Mr. =T. BROWN;=
BEING
LETTERS, POEMS and DIALOGUES
on the TIMES, not Printed in his
WORKS.
LONDON,
Printed for =SAM. BRISCOE.= 1718.
[Decoration]
_Olinda's_ Adventures:
OR THE AMOURS
Of a Young LADY.
By _Mrs._ TROTTER.
LETTER I.
_Dear Cleander_,
I Hope I need not tell you how uneasie this tedious Absence makes me;
for I must confess as troublesome as I find it, and as much as I Value
you, I can't but wish you may be able to guess at it by what you suffer
your self: A strange Effect of the highest degree of Friendship; for if
I had less for you, I shou'd not so earnestly desire to hear you are in
Pain; but such Contradictions are no Mysteries to you, who understand
so well the little Niceties of Friendship. That you may see I study
nothing more in this Solitude than to oblige you; I've resolv'd to
employ most part of my time in complying with that Request you've often
made me, of giving you a particular account of all that has happen'd to
me in my Life; tho' I fear I shall lose part of that Esteem which you
have hitherto preserved for me, by acquainting you with some Passages of
it, which yet I hope have nothing in 'em so ill, that the kindness of a
Friend mayn't find out something in the Circumstances of the Story to
Excuse: For tho' perhaps I have not always been so nicely cautious as a
Woman in strictness ought, I have never gone beyond the bounds of solid
Virtue. To put all to the hazard then, I will give you a faithful
Account of all my Weaknesses. My Father dying, left me when I was very
young, to the Tuition of a Mother, who as you know is qualify'd for such
a Charge equal to any of her Sex; and she indeed perform'd her part as
well as her small Fortune wou'd permit her, which was scarce sufficient
to maintain her, in that Rank her Birth had placed her. However, she
gave me all the Education that was necessary; but I believe you'll
excuse me if I pass over all that occurr'd till I was Thirteen, for
about that time I began to fancy my self a Woman, and the more to
perswade me to it, I happen'd to be acquainted with a Gentleman whose
Name was _Licydon_, who the first or second time I saw him, seem'd to
have so much confidence in me, that he told me a long story of his Love,
and ever after shew'd me all the Letters he either Writ to, or received
from his Mistress: This you must think did not a little please me. and I
thought my self as Wise as the Gravest Politician, when he ask'd my
Advice in any of his Affairs, especially when I heard him commended by
many for a Man of great Parts. One day that we were by our selves, we
fell into a Discourse of Womens making Love; he Argu'd that 'twas very
unjust to deprive 'em of the satisfaction of discovering a Passion,
which they were as much subject to as Men: I said as much against him as
I cou'd, but he had more dexterity to manage his Argument than I; so
that I was easily brought to agree with him; but said 'twas well that
custom was observ'd, since the complaisance which was paid by their Sex
to ours, would sometimes oblige 'em to comply contrary to their
Inclination; for I cou'd not imagine how they cou'd civily refuse a
Lady's Intreaties. He told me if I wou'd write a Declaration of Love to
him, he wou'd shew me how it might be Answer'd with a great deal of
Respect, without any Love. I consented to do it, and accordingly did the
next day, and he return'd me an Answer which satisfied me: This, tho' it
may seem a trivial thing, you will find by the sequel, had like to have
produc'd but ill Effects. Some time after this, he brought a Friend of
his to Visit us, who was of a good Family; but according to the
_English_ custom of breeding the younger Sons to Trades; he was a
Goldsmith, but a great _Beaux_, and one who seem'd to have a Soul above
his calling: He ask'd _Licydon_ if he had any pretensions to me, which
when he assur'd him he had not, he told him he was very glad he had not
a Rival in a Friend; for he was hugely smitten, and shou'd need his
Assistance in his design; for he had observ'd such an intimacy between
us, as gave him Reason to think he had great influence over me; and he
was sure he wou'd not deny him, if he was not my Lover. _Licydon_
assur'd him he had only a Friendship for me, and that he wou'd use all
his Credit with me to perswade me to receive all His Addresses
favourably; which he did as soon as he had an opportunity. He said all
of him that he could imagine most engaging, and especially of the
Violence of his Passion. I was well enough pleas'd with the Love, tho'
not with the Lover; for 'tis natural at that unthinking Age to covet a
croud of Admirers, tho' we despise them: But I believe I need not
confine that Vanity to Youth, many of our Sex are troubled with it, when
one wou'd think they were Old enough to be sensible of the Folly, and
inconvenience of being continually Courted, and haunted by Men they have
an indifference, or perhaps an aversion for For my part I think there is
no greater Torment; but I was of another Opinion then, and therefore
Rally'd at the Love, and seem'd not to blelieve it; which I warrant you
gave great Encouragement to my new Lover, when he heard of it; for 'tis
a great Sign one wou'd be convinc'd. So I'd best prepare my self for an
Attack, which I did not expect long: It was begun by a _Billet Doux_,
which came first to my Mother's Hands; and when she gave it me, she
ask'd what Answer I wou'd return. I told her I was wholly to be Govern'd
by her; but if I was to follow my own inclination I wou'd not answer it
at all: My Mother reply'd, she thought it fit I shou'd Answer it; for
she believ'd I cou'd have no aversion to him, and she did not think it
an ill Match, considering my Circumstances. Then I desir'd her to indite
a Letter for me, for I saw well enough I shou'd not please her. She gave
me a Copy of one, that without saying any thing that was kind, gave him
cause enough to despair; but I cou'd not dissemble my Looks and Actions,
in which he observ'd so much Coldness, that tho' several Letters pass'd
between us, that wou'd have given hopes to a Man the least apt to
presume; he was often half an hour with me alone, without speaking one
Word to me. At last he complain'd to _Licydon_ of the strange
contradictions in what I did, and what I Writ; for whenever he begun to
speak to me of his Love, I check'd him with such severe Looks, and
turn'd the Discourse in such a manner, that he durst proceed no further,
tho' my Letters seem'd much to his Advantage. _Licydon_ perswaded him
(as perhaps he thought himself) that 'twas only my Modesty, and that
perhaps I shou'd be more emboldned, if he cou'd get my Mother's consent
to his Proposals. _Berontus_, for that was his Name, was as well
satisfy'd with this, as if I had told him so my self; and away goes he
immediately to my Mother, and tells her he's stark staring mad in Love
with her Daughter: The next thing they talk of is Joynture, and
Settlements, _&c._ and in fine they agree; So I am call'd for, and
commanded to look upon this Spark as one that must shortly be my
Husband; to give us the more freedom, my Mother leaves us together.
'Well, Madam, (says he) I have no Opposites to struggle with, your
Mother has given me her consent, and you have given me hopes that you
will not refuse me yours. What shou'd I do in this perplexity? I had a
firm Resolution never to Marry him; but I found my Mother so much set
upon it, that I durst not let it be known; besides, I had engag'd my
self so far in Obedience to her, that I did not know how to come off;
but for the present I wou'd be whimsical, and take time to consider what
I shou'd do hereafter. So I put on a pet, and said, _Berontus_, I don't
know what advantage you think you have more than before; but I'm sure a
Lover wou'd have found another way of Courting his Mistress, than by her
Mother; and it may be you'll find your self never the nearer my Heart
for having gain'd her: I hate a Man that will depend upon any other for
my Favour than my self. 'Cruel Creature, _says he_, what pleasure do you
take in tormenting me? You know that I love you with the greatest
respect imaginable, and that I can't be happy but by you alone. I never
had Recourse to your Mother till you had encourag'd me, and gave me
leave to say it; your usage of me is very unjust. I knew well enough he
was in the Right; but I wou'd not know it: So that we parted both much
dissatisfied. How his Thoughts were employ'd I can't pretend to tell
you; but I was continually contriving how to get out of this troublesome
Affair. I cou'd find no way but to tell him sincerely, that all that I
had writ in his favour was by constraint; that I was too young to think
of Love, or Marriage, and so trust to his Generosity; and prevail with
him, if possible, to let it fall of his side. The first time I had an
opportunity of putting my design in Execution, I thought the poor Lover
wou'd never have liv'd to see me beyond those Years which serv'd for a
pretence for my refusal; but he was Wise enough to baulk me, 'If, _says
he_ (after he was come out of his Dumps; for he was a quarter of an hour
without saying any thing. You see he was much given to silence) 'If I
did not imagine it your Hate that only study'd an Excuse, I shou'd wait
with a great deal of satisfaction, till you were pleas'd to make me
happy: But as it is, I shall die a thousand times with fear, that some
other more happy in your inclinations than I, will rob me of you for
ever. He said in fine, abundance of fine things, to perswade me to
engage my self to him; but I wou'd not consent to it; and all I could
say to him, was as little prevalent to make him desist his suit. He
wou'd wait the Patriarch's Prenticeship rather than lose his Angel:
Would it not be a sad Business if he should lose her after all? But I am
afraid he's like, for her thoughts cannot be brought so low; they towre
a little above his Shop, perhaps too high for her Fortune; but she's
something too young to consider that, or to prefer her Interest to her
Humour. But to go on with my Story; my Mother was well enough satisfied
to have the Match delay'd; so that I thought I had nothing to do for a
Year or two, but to wish some Accident might intervene to hinder it. But
it was not long before a Servant we had in the House found me other
Employment; I had complain'd of some Negligences she had been guilty of,
when my Mother was out of Town, which were occasion'd by a fondness she
had for one that waited upon _Licydon_: Upon which she had been like to
be turn'd away, and being of a revengeful Spirit, she cou'd never
forgive it. She had observ'd, that _Licydon_ often gave me, and I him,
Letters in private; for when he had no other opportunity, he us'd to
give me those he sent, or receiv'd from his Mistress, as we were taking
leave, when I conducted him to the Door; which I often did, whilst my
Mother was entertaining other Company; and I return'd 'em when I saw him
again. This malicious Wench hoping to find something in 'em that might
prejudice me, to _Licydon_'s Man (over whom it seems she had a great
Influence) that she heard his Master was a great Poet, and that she had
a great mind to see some of his Works, if he could contrive to let her
into his Closet when he was abroad: The Servant who suspected nothing,
promis'd her he wou'd let her know the first time his Master left his
Key, which he very seldom did. He kept his Word with her, and after she
had look'd over all his Papers, at last she found that Letter which I
spoke of at the beginning. She knew my Hand well enough, and no doubt
with Joy, put it into her Pocket, without being perceiv'd by the Fellow;
and to lose no time, went presently to _Berontus_; to whom she said,
That she was extreamly concern'd to see him deceiv'd by two that he
rely'd so much upon, as her young Mistress and _Licydon_: And therefore
she could not forbear telling him, that she had discover'd an Intrigue
between 'em, and that they were so familiar, that if they were not
Married already, she was sure they wou'd be very suddenly; with
abundance of Circumstances of her own Invention, to make the Story more
plausible. He did not believe her at first; but when she show'd him the
Letter, it put him beyond doubt; so that after he had given her his
Word, whatever Measures he took, not to discover her, she went away very
well pleas'd, that she had depriv'd me of a Husband, and receiv'd a good
Reward for it. _Berontus_ did not give his Rage and Grief leave to
abate; but in the height of both, writ a Letter to _Licydon_, and
another to me. You can't imagine how much I was surprized when I read
it, and found it was a Chalenge, (for in that Confusion he had mistaken
the Direction) to one whom he accus'd of betraying him in what was
dearer to him than his Life: I cou'd not guess who it was design'd for,
till _Licydon_ came in, and show'd me a Letter he had just receiv'd,
which he believ'd was for me; and desir'd me to tell him who that happy
Man was _Berontus_ complain'd so much of. I saw plainly then he was
jealous of _Licydon_; but was not able to Divine the Cause: He gave me
the Letter which contain'd these Words;
_Wou'd to Heaven you had told me Truth, when you said you were too young
to think of Love; you have thought of it too much_ Olinda, _for my
quiet; but you were born to Torment me. It is my Fate, why do I complain
of you? Pity me, if I fall by my happy Rivals Hand, and if you can,
forgive me if I survive him. This is the last time I design to trouble
you: I wish he may be more faithful to you than he has been to me:
Adieu, Madam, pity the unfortunate_ Berontus.
The Letter seem'd so full of Distraction, that I cou'd not chuse but
pity him; for I really thought him Mad: But I did not think fit to shew
_Licydon_ that which was design'd for him. When he was gone I sent for
_Berontus_, but he refus'd to come, and 'twas with much ado after three
or four times sending he was prevail'd with. I told him by what means I
had seen both his Letters; but that they appear'd so great Mysteries to
me, that I sent for him to explain 'em. 'Twas long before he wou'd let
me know the Cause of his suspicions; but I was so importunate, that at
last he show'd me the Love Letter I had writ to _Licydon_: Can I have a
greater Proof than this, says he? I confess, reply'd I, you have Reason
to think as you do; but you are much deceiv'd; and then I told him upon
what occasion it was writ: I saw very well he did not believe me, and I
knew not how to convince him, unless I cou'd find _Licydon_'s Answer,
which at least wou'd clear him. I found it by good Fortune, and brought
it to _Berontus_. Read this, said I, and you'll see whether it be true,
that I Writ to _Licydon_ in earnest: You have nothing to accuse him of.
After he had read it, he cry'd out in a violent manner, I have wrong'd
the innocent _Olinda_, and I deserve to be hated by her for ever. Be not
so transported I return'd coldly enough, I may love _Licydon_, tho' he
be so indifferent: The Postscript fully clears you, reply'd _Berontus_,
and makes me not dare to ask you to forgive me: Upon which I took it,
and read these Words, which I had quite forgot. _I did not think one
cou'd write so prettily of Love, and be so insensible of it; How happy
wou'd that Man be, that shou'd receive such a one dictated by your
Heart, as well as Hand._ I am sure none cou'd return such an Answer to
_Olinda_. This Complement did me so much Kindness, that one wou'd think
I shou'd be a better Friend to 'em than you know I am. _Berontus_ left
me almost as angry at himself, as he was before at us; and did not come
near me for some time after. When I told _Licydon_ what had pass'd
between us, he was amaz'd: He Examin'd his Man, who had been in the
Chamber, who confess'd the Truth; and our Servant, when she was tax'd
with it, hardly deny'd it; and thus the whole Matter was discover'd;
which had it not been for a happy Mistake, had probably cost one, or
both of them, their Lives, and me my Honour. Two days after _Licydon_
was Married, and so our Acquaintance broke off; for tho' his Wife came
to see me and often press'd me to keep a Correspondence with her; I
never did, for I knew she had been very Jealous of me before she
Marry'd, and I would not hazard the reviving it. _Berontus_ easily
obtain'd his Pardon of me (for you know I'm very good Natur'd) and so he
continu'd to Visit me, taking all the pains he could to please me,
without any thing remarkable happening, till three Monthes after, his
Elder Brother, who had been at his Travels, and was reported to be dead,
return'd; so that he was no longer able to keep the Conditions he had
made with my Mother; for he had nothing to live upon but his Trade;
which I afterwards heard he neglected very much, and took to that usual
remedy of Cares, Drinking: He said it was to cure his Grief for the loss
of his Mistress, and truly that is to be lamented, when the loss of a
good Estate is the Cause of it. However he is comforted for both now,
and Married to a Woman with a great Fortune. I was very glad to be rid
of my Lover, tho' I was sorry 'twas by his misfortune.
Thus _Cleander_, you have an account of the first Adventures of my Life;
which made me early know some uneasie Hours: By the next Post I'll
acquaint you with a Catalogue of Lovers (that is, they were my _En
passant_, in taking their Rounds, and serv'd better to divert me than
the most Romantick Constancy, without giving themselves, or me any
trouble) but it's indeed time to make an end. Adieu my Friend, think of
me always, and, Write as often as you can to _Olinda_.
[Decoration]
[Illustration: _M. V^{dr} Gucht Sculp_
_Olinda_.
_Vol. 2_ _pag. 136_]
LETTER V.
TO proceed in Order to my Relation, I must begin with one, who in
respect of his Years as well as the time in which I knew him, demands
the Pre-eminence. He was a _Dutch_ Coll. about Threescore; Don't you
think one of his Country and Years, will make a pretty Lover? But Old as
he was, he had a Mistress in the House with him. I was younger than she,
and I believe I may say, without Vanity, I had some other Advantages
over her; so that the Old Spark had a Month's mind to me; and I, partly
to plague her, and partly to divert my self, received all his Addresses
with a great deal of complaisance. I cou'd perceive her fret within her
self, tho she durst not shew it. She was in great fear of losing him;
for the Man's Money had such Charms as aton'd for his want of 'em, tho'
he was Ugliness in perfection; (if that ben't Nonsense) and 'twas the
best Jest in the World to me, to see him squint an Amorous Glance upon
me with one Eye, whilst 'tother was watching whether she took Notice of
him; for we Lodg'd in one House together; so that I cou'd not avoid
often being with them both, nor indeed did I endeavour it; for I took a
malicious pleasure in laughing at their Follies: Since there's nothing
so ridiculous as an Antiquated Lover, who has the Vanity to believe he
is belov'd, and a Jealous Woman, who has not Discretion enough to hide
it. That I might be sufficiently entertain'd with both, one day I began
a Discourse of Young and old Lovers, preferring the last as more
Constant, more Fond, and more Solid than the First: He Smil'd, and took
me by the Hand, and gave me a thousand Commendations for the Wisdom of
my choice; Nay, and so far forgot himself, that he apply'd it to
himself, and said such passionate things as wou'd have been extravagant
from a young Fellow. She with a great deal of Heat contradicted all I
had said, and told all the Impertinences and Inconveniences one finds in
an Old Man (which she experimentally knew better than I) without
considering how far it touch'd him, she was so earnest against me. This
made him so Angry, and her so out of Countenance when she reflected so
upon what she had said, that I was never better diverted: So she did not
know what Excuse to make for her self; and in fine, the Dispute grew so
high, that at last they parted. Upon this the Coll. was hotter upon me
than ever; he pester'd me continually with his Visits, and the Brute so
little understood my Raillery, that he pretended an Interest in me, and
wou'd check me when he saw any body younger than himself with me; but I
gave him such Answers, that he did not know what to make of me. When he
had Orders for _Flanders_, he told me I must prepare my self to go with
him, and I should live as great and happy as a Queen; I said I wou'd go
withal my Heart, upon Condition his Son should be always with us: The
Old Man started, my Son, Child, what would you do with him? I think he
is fitter company for me than you, says I, and so I left him, so
asham'd, that he shunn'd seeing me ever after. He e'en went to
_Flanders_ without me, and vow'd, young as he was, he wou'd never have
any thing to do with Woman more. Thus I was rid of my Old Impertinent,
whose place was soon supply'd by one of those gay youths who never wait
for the slow gifts of pity, but Ravish little Favours from us, as if
they were their due; who make it impossible for us to think it a Crime
to give what they ask with so much boldness; and who are always
endeavouring to divert her they design to please. He Courted me with
Balls, Musick, and Entertainments, and in the midst of 'em wou'd now and
then whisper some pretty Love Maggots. I was first acquainted with him
at a Relations of mine at _Greenwich_: He was an Officer in the Army,
and was then in the Camp upon _Black-Heath_; and being very well known
in the House where I was, he came often there. He had heard several
things of me to my Advantage, (for Fame generally flatters or detracts)
as, that I sung well, was Handsom, and so forth: And I was told, that he
was very well accomplish'd, and the Neatest, Prettiest, Gentilest young
fellow that was to be seen in the whole Army: So that we had both a
great desire to see one another, and were very well acquainted the first
time we met: He told me he had a violent Passion for me, and he did not
doubt but I had a little Love for him; he came to see me every Day
whilst I was there; carried me to all the Diversions that were to be had
about the Country; and when I was going to _London_, he told me he would
soon follow me: But as soon as you come to Town, Faith _Olinda_, you
shall Write to me, as you hope to see me again; for I can't live without
hearing you Arriv'd safe. So I Writ a thousand little mad things, and
he Answer'd me at the same Rate, only a great deal of Airy Love mingled
with it. The following Week he came to see me, and from that day I was
never suffered to rest for one frolick or other: All the time he staid,
I liv'd a pleasant sort of a Life, till he went to Fight abroad, and got
two or three new Mistresses to divert, for those sort of Men never
remember the Absent; their Love never enters the Heart, nor do they
often gain ours; they seldom fail to please indeed, and they force us to
think of 'em sometimes whether we will or not; but they are neither
Discreet, nor Constant enough to go any further: I suppose he forgot me
as soon as he left me, and I was not much behindhand with him. After he
was gone, I had scarce a breathing time before another of his
Profession, more serious, and more designing, succeeded him: He had a
good Estate, and pass'd in the World for a Man of Honour, and therefore
was Received by my Mother favourably enough. I neither lik'd, nor
dislick'd him; but treated him with Civility, till I found out that his
designs were not very Honourable; and then I thought it time to alter my
Behaviour: I forbid him to see me, and when he came to our Lodgings, I
was deny'd to him, tho' he knew I was at home; upon which he left off
coming, and when some of his Comrades ask'd him the Reason, he told
them, he knew me too well, and that he did not think a Creature so young
cou'd be so Lew'd. Observe, my Friend, how unhappy Women are, who are
thus expos'd to lose either their Virtue, or their Honour; if I had
comply'd with him, perhaps none wou'd have been more careful of my Fame
than he: But how much my Choice is to be preferr'd, none but those who
have experienced the unexpressible satisfaction it gives can know. I
heard of it with a great deal of indifference, and did not so much as
hate the Author of the scandal. The next in waiting was a _French
Beaux_: He had a great stock of Wit, but more Vanity, a mighty
Flatterer, and one who took much pains to perswade credulous Women that
he lov'd them; and if he succeeded, he always forsook 'em, and sometimes
gratify'd his Vanity to their Cost, who had been indiscreet enough to
give him occasion. He laid his Baits to catch me, he Vow'd, and Swore,
and Danc'd, and Sung eternally by turns; but I was too wary to be
caught, tho' he made me a hundred Protestations, I was the only Woman he
ever did, or ever cou'd Love; follow'd me where ever I went, and in
spight of the greatest Rigour I cou'd use, wou'd not forbear haunting
me. I did not know how to free my self from the Impertinence of this
Fop; but I thought if I cou'd convince him of one Act of Inconstancy, he
wou'd not have the Confidence to trouble me any more: I had many
contrivances in Order to it, but at last I fix'd upon one that was
probable enough to take with one of his Humour. I Writ a Letter
(disguising my Hand) as from a Woman extreamly in Love with him, and
desir'd him to tell me sincerely whither he was engaged or not; for I
was too just to rob any Woman of his Heart, and too nice to be content
with a part of it. I told him if he was free, I wou'd meet him, the next
day at the Bird-Cage in the Park: He sent a very obliging answer to the
unknown Lady; and said, he was passionately in Love with her Wit; that
if her Beauty were Answerable, he must be undone; however 'twould be
such a pleasing Ruin, that he waited with the highest impatience for the
appointed hour, when he might assure her by word of Mouth, his Heart was
wholly at her dispose. Just as I had done Reading this Letter he came
in, and for a Proof of his Constancy, shew'd me that which I had sent
him, with another, which he said was the Answer he design'd to send;
wherein he told her, he was already so deeply in Love, 'twas impossible
for him to change; with abundance of fine things of the Person he
Lov'd. This was good sport for me, and I had much ado to keep my
Countenance; I us'd all my Rhetorick to perswade him to stay with me; a
thing I had never desir'd of him before, and now 'twas in vain: He
pretended earnest business, and went long before the Hour, he was so
very impatient. When he was gone, I chang'd my Clothes, took a Lady with
me, who was Privy to the Affair, and went to the aforesaid Place. We
were in Masks, and it being duskish, he did not know us; but after I had
banter'd him for some time, I discover'd my self: I cannot describe to
you the different Passions that affected him; sometimes he was in a Rage
with me for putting such a Deceit upon him, sometimes he wou'd frame
weak Excuses for what he had done, and sometimes he was not able to
speak at all for Grief, that he was not only disappointed of a new
Mistress, but had lost all hopes of gaining one he had Courted so long,
with so much Assiduity. I went home, as well pleas'd with losing one, as
I have sometimes been with making a Conquest, in full hopes I shou'd be
plagued with him no more, and I was not deceiv'd. You see, _Cleander_,
what a Miscellany of Lovers, if I may call 'em so, I have had, all of
different humours, but none that had found out the Secret to please me:
They have done enough if they contribute any thing to your diversion,
and made a sufficient Recompence for all their former Impertinence to
_Your faithful Friend_
Olinda.
[Decoration]
LETTER III.
_My Friend_,