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 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 bedside 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 believe 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 be 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 what 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
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
lie 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, "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
wedding-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 days of his life, 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; 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 thankfully, and applied it soberly, to the praise and honour of my
Maker; whereas, by this wicked course, all the bounty 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."
"And would you have me say so, Amy?" said I.
"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. You 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 unreasonableness
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, you 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.
However, 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 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, 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 thus, 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 of 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 him 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 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,
gentlemanly 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.