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
lieutenant's commission, she understood that there was nothing at all in
it, but they told her how he had often made use of that sham to borrow
money, and move gentlemen to pity him and lend him money, in hopes to
get him preferment; that he had 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 been 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.
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 my first destroyer, and reserve the assistance that I
intended to have given him for another more desirable opportunity. All
that I had now to do was to keep myself out of his sight, which was not
very difficult for me to do, considering in what station he 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.
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
necessary, 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
insignificant, 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 I 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,
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 acknowledgments for that I had given him a son. I thought, indeed,
he had been going to give me a present, and so he did the next day, but
in what he said then he only jested with me. He gave me his company all
the evening, 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. I 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
ill 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 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 business,
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 afterwards 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
particularly 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 excepted; and it has given me occasion for many dark reflections
since, to look back and think that I should be the snare of such a
person's life; that I should influence him to so much wickedness, and
that I should be the instrument in the hand of the devil to do him so
much prejudice.
We were near two 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 very 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, as 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
Turkish, or rather Moorish, songs, of which I made use to my advantage
on an extraordinary occasion some years after, as you shall hear in its
place. I need not say I learnt Italian too, for I got pretty well
mistress of that before I had been there a year; and as I had leisure
enough and 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
foreign ambassadors. In a word, they have an air of sharping and
cozening, 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
liberties are taken, I 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.