she brought the old man and his wife, and my other daughter, several
times to her house, by which I had an opportunity, being there only as a
lodger, and a stranger, to see my other girl, which I had never done
before, since she was a little child.
The day I contrived to see them I was dressed up in a Quaker's habit,
and looked so like a Quaker, that it was impossible for them, who had
never seen me before, to suppose I had ever been anything else; also my
way of talking was suitable enough to it, for I had learned that long
before.
I have not time here to take notice what a surprise it was to me to see
my child; how it worked upon my affections; with what infinite struggle
I mastered a strong inclination that I had to discover myself to her;
how the girl was the very counterpart of myself, only much handsomer;
and how sweetly and modestly she behaved; how, on that occasion, I
resolved to do more for her than I had appointed by Amy, and the like.
It is enough to mention here, that as the settling this affair made way
for my going on board, notwithstanding the absence of my old agent Amy,
so, however, I left some hints for Amy too, for I did not yet despair of
my hearing from her; and that if my good Quaker should ever see her
again, she should let her see them; wherein, particularly, ordering her
to leave the affair of Spitalfields just as I had done, in the hands of
my friend, she should come away to me; upon this condition,
nevertheless, that she gave full satisfaction to my friend the Quaker
that she had not murdered my child; for if she had, I told her I would
never see her face more. However, notwithstanding this, she came over
afterwards, without giving my friend any of that satisfaction, or any
account that she intended to come over.
I can say no more now, but that, as above, being arrived in Holland,
with my spouse and his son, formerly mentioned, I appeared there with
all the splendour and equipage suitable to our new prospect, as I have
already observed.
Here, after some few years of flourishing and outwardly happy
circumstances, I fell into a dreadful course of calamities, and Amy
also; the very reverse of our former good days. The blast of Heaven
seemed to follow the injury done the poor girl by us both, and I was
brought so low again, that my repentance seemed to be only the
consequence of my misery, as my misery was of my crime.
CONTINUATION
(_From the 1745 Edition_)
In resolving to go to Holland with my husband, and take possession of
the title of countess as soon as possible, I had a view of deceiving my
daughter, were she yet alive, and seeking me out; for it seldom happens
that a nobleman, or his lady, are called by their surnames, and as she
was a stranger to our noble title, might have inquired at our next door
neighbours for Mr. ----, the Dutch merchant, and not have been one jot
the wiser for her inquiry. So one evening, soon after this resolution,
as I and my husband were sitting together when supper was over, and
talking of several various scenes in life, I told him that, as there was
no likelihood of my being with child, as I had some reason to suspect I
was some time before, I was ready to go with him to any part of the
world, whenever he pleased. I said, that great part of my things were
packed up, and what was not would not be long about, and that I had
little occasion to buy any more clothes, linen, or jewels, whilst I was
in England, having a large quantity of the richest and best of
everything by me already. On saying these words, he took me in his
arms, and told me that he looked on what I had now spoken with so great
an emphasis, to be my settled resolution, and the fault should not lie
on his side if it miscarried being put in practice.
The next morning he went out to see some merchants, who had received
advice of the arrival of some shipping which had been in great danger at
sea, and whose insurance had run very high; and it was this interval
that gave me an opportunity of my coming to a final resolution. I now
told the Quaker, as she was sitting at work in her parlour, that we
should very speedily leave her, and although she daily expected it, yet
she was really sorry to hear that we had come to a full determination;
she said abundance of fine things to me on the happiness of the life I
did then, and was going to live; believing, I suppose, that a countess
could not have a foul conscience; but at that very instant, I would
have, had it been in my power, resigned husband, estate, title, and all
the blessings she fancied I had in the world, only for her real virtue,
and the sweet peace of mind, joined to a loving company of children,
which she really possessed.
When my husband returned, he asked me at dinner if I persevered in my
resolution of leaving England; to which I answered in the affirmative.
"Well," says he, "as all my affairs will not take up a week's time to
settle, I will be ready to go from London with you in ten days' time."
We fixed upon no particular place or abode, but in general concluded to
go to Dover, cross the Channel to Calais, and proceed from thence by
easy journeys to Paris, where after staying about a week, we intended to
go through part of France, the Austrian Netherlands, and so on to
Amsterdam, Rotterdam, or the Hague, as we were to settle before we went
from Paris. As my husband did not care to venture all our fortune in one
bottom, so our goods, money, and plate were consigned to several
merchants, who had been his intimates many years, and he took notes of a
prodigious value in his pocket, besides what he gave me to take care of
during our journey. The last thing to be considered was, how we should
go ourselves, and what equipage we should take with us; my thoughts were
wholly taken up about it some time; I knew I was going to be a countess,
and did not care to appear anything mean before I came to that honour;
but, on the other hand, if I left London in any public way, I might
possibly hear of inquiries after me in the road, that I had been
acquainted with before. At last I said we would discharge all our
servants, except two footmen, who should travel with us to Dover, and
one maid to wait on me, that had lived with me only since the retreat of
Amy, and she was to go through, if she was willing; and as to the
carriage of us, a coach should be hired for my husband, myself, and
maid, and two horses were to be hired for the footmen, who were to
return with them to London.
When the Quaker had heard when and how we intended to go, she begged, as
there would be a spare seat in the coach, to accompany us as far as
Dover, which we both readily consented to; no woman could be a better
companion, neither was there any acquaintance that we loved better, or
could show more respect to us.
The morning before we set out, my husband sent for a master coachman to
know the price of a handsome coach, with six able horses, to go to
Dover. He inquired how many days we intended to be on the journey? My
husband said he would go but very easy, and chose to be three days on
the road; that they should stay there two days, and be three more
returning to London, with a gentlewoman (meaning the Quaker) in it. The
coachman said it would be an eight days' journey, and he would have ten
guineas for it. My husband consented to pay him his demand, and he
received orders to be ready at the door by seven of the clock the next
morning: I was quite prepared to go, having no person to take leave of
but the Quaker, and she had desired to see us take the packet-boat at
Dover, before we parted with her; and the last night of my stay in
London was spent very agreeably with the Quaker and her family. My
husband, who stayed out later than usual, in taking his farewell of
several merchants of his acquaintance, came home about eleven o'clock,
and drank a glass or two of wine with us before we went to bed.
The next morning, the whole family got up about five o'clock, and I,
with my husband's consent, made each of the Quaker's daughters a present
of a diamond ring, valued at £20, and a guinea apiece to all the
servants, without exception. We all breakfasted together, and at the
hour appointed, the coach and attendants came to the door; this drew
several people about it, who were all very inquisitive to know who was
going into the country, and what is never forgot on such occasions, all
the beggars in the neighbourhood were prepared to give us their
benedictions in hopes of an alms. When the coachmen had packed up what
boxes were designed for our use, we, namely, my husband, the Quaker,
myself, and the waiting-maid, all got into the coach, the footmen were
mounted on horses behind, and in this manner the coach, after I had
given a guinea to one of the Quaker's daughters equally to divide among
the beggars at the door, drove away from the house, and I took leave of
my lodging in the Minories, as well as of London.
At St. George's Church, Southwark, we were met by three gentlemen on
horseback, who were merchants of my husband's acquaintance, and had come
out on purpose, to go half a day's journey with us; and as they kept
talking to us at the coach side, we went a good pace, and were very
merry together; we stopped at the best house of entertainment on
Shooter's Hill.
Here we stopped for about an hour, and drank some wine, and my husband,
whose chief study was how to please and divert me, caused me to alight
out of the coach; which the gentlemen who accompanied us observing,
alighted also. The waiter showed us upstairs into a large room, whose
window opened to our view a fine prospect of the river Thames, which
here, they say, forms one of the most beautiful meanders. It was within
an hour of high water, and such a number of ships coming in under sail
quite astonished as well as delighted me, insomuch that I could not help
breaking out into such-like expressions, "My dear, what a fine sight
this is; I never saw the like before! Pray will they get to London this
tide?" At which the good-natured gentleman smiled, and said, "Yes, my
dear; why, there is London, and as the wind is quite fair for them, some
of them will come to an anchor in about half-an-hour, and all within an
hour."
I was so taken up with looking down the river that, till my husband
spoke, I had not once looked up the river; but when I did, and saw
London, the Monument, the cathedral church of St. Paul, and the steeples
belonging to the several parish churches, I was transported into an
ecstasy, and could not refrain from saying, "Sure that cannot be the
place we are now just come from, it must be further off, for that looks
to be scarce three miles off, and we have been three hours, by my watch,
coming from our lodgings in the Minories! No, no, it is not London, it
is some other place!"
Upon which one of the gentlemen present offered to convince me that the
place I saw was London if I would go up to the top of the house, and
view it from the turret. I accepted the offer, and I, my husband, and
the three gentlemen were conducted by the master of the house upstairs
into the turret. If I was delighted before with my prospect, I was now
ravished, for I was elevated above the room I was in before upwards of
thirty feet. I seemed a little dizzy, for the turret being a lantern,
and giving light all ways, for some time I thought myself suspended in
the air; but sitting down, and having eat a mouthful of biscuit and
drank a glass of sack, I soon recovered, and then the gentleman who had
undertaken to convince me that the place I was shown was really London,
thus began, after having drawn aside one of the windows.
"You see, my lady," says the gentleman, "the greatest, the finest, the
richest, and the most populous city in the world, at least in Europe, as
I can assure your ladyship, upon my own knowledge, it deserves the
character I have given it." "But this, sir, will never convince me that
the place you now show me is London, though I have before heard that
London deserves the character you have with so much cordiality bestowed
upon it. And this I can testify, that London, in every particular you
have mentioned, greatly surpasses Paris, which is allowed by all
historians and travellers to be the second city in Europe."
Here the gentleman, pulling out his pocket-glass, desired me to look
through it, which I did; and then he directed me to look full at St.
Paul's, and to make that the centre of my future observation, and
thereupon he promised me conviction.
Whilst I took my observation, I sat in a high chair, made for that
purpose, with a convenience before you to hold the glass. I soon found
the cathedral, and then I could not help saying I have been several
times up to the stone gallery, but not quite so often up to the iron
gallery. Then I brought my eye to the Monument, and was obliged to
confess I knew it to be such. The gentleman then moved the glass and
desired me to look, which doing, I said, "I think I see Whitehall and
St. James's Park, and I see also two great buildings like barns, but I
do not know what they are." "Oh," says the gentleman, "they are the
Parliament House and Westminster Abbey." "They may be so," said I; and
continuing looking, I perceived the very house at Kensington which I had
lived in some time; but of that I took no notice, yet I found my colour
come, to think what a life of gaiety and wickedness I had lived. The
gentleman, perceiving my disorder, said, "I am afraid I have tired your
ladyship; I will make but one remove, more easterly, and then I believe
you will allow the place we see to be London."
He might have saved himself the trouble, for I was thoroughly convinced
of my error; but to give myself time to recover, and to hide my
confusion, I seemed not yet to be quite convinced. I looked, and the
first object that presented itself was Aldgate Church, which, though I
confess to my shame, I seldom saw the inside of it, yet I was well
acquainted with the outside, for many times my friend the Quaker and I
had passed and repassed by it when we used to go in the coach to take an
airing. I saw the church, or the steeple of the church, so plain, and
knew it so well, that I could not help saying, with some earnestness,
"My dear, I see our church; the church, I mean, belonging to our
neighbourhood; I am sure it is Aldgate Church." Then I saw the Tower,
and all the shipping; and, taking my eye from the glass, I thanked the
gentleman for the trouble I had given him, and said to him that I was
fully convinced that the place I saw was London, and that it was the
very place we came from that morning.
When we came to Sittingbourne, our servant soon brought us word that
although we were at the best inn in the town, yet there was nothing in
the larder fit for our dinner. The landlord came in after him and began
to make excuses for his empty cupboard. He told us, withal, that if we
would please to stay, he would kill a calf, a sheep, a hog, or anything
we had a fancy to. We ordered him to kill a pig and some pigeons, which,
with a dish of fish, a cherry pie, and some pastry, made up a tolerable
dinner. We made up two pounds ten shillings, for we caused the landlord,
his wife, and two daughters, to dine with us, and help us off with our
wine. Our landlady and her two daughters, with a glass or two given to
the cook, managed two bottles of white wine. This operated so strong
upon one of the young wenches that, my spouse being gone out into the
yard, her tongue began to run; and, looking at me, she says to her
mother, "La! mother, how much like the lady her ladyship is" (speaking
of me), "the young woman who lodged here the other night, and stayed
here part of the next day, and then set forward for Canterbury,
described. The lady is the same person, I'm sure."
This greatly alarmed me, and made me very uneasy, for I concluded this
young woman could be no other than my daughter, who was resolved to find
me out, whether I would or no. I desired the girl to describe the young
woman she mentioned, which she did, and I was convinced it was my own
daughter. I asked in what manner she travelled, and whether she had any
company. I was answered that she was on foot, and that she had no
company; but that she always travelled from place to place in company;
that her method was, when she came into any town, to go to the best inns
and inquire for the lady she sought; and then, when she had satisfied
herself that the lady, whom she called her mother, was not to be found
in that town or neighbourhood, she then begged the favour of the
landlady of the inn where she was, to put her into such a company that
she knew that she might go safe to the next town; that this was the
manner of her proceeding at her house, and she believed she had
practised it ever since she set out from London; and she hoped to meet
with her mother, as she called her, upon the road.
I asked my landlady whether she described our coach and equipage, but
she said the young woman did not inquire concerning equipage, but only
described a lady "so like your ladyship, that I have often, since I saw
your ladyship, took you to be the very person she was looking for."
Amidst the distractions of my mind, this afforded me some comfort, that
my daughter was not in the least acquainted with the manner in which we
travelled. My husband and the landlord returned, and that put an end to
the discourse.
I left this town with a heavy heart, feeling my daughter would
infallibly find me out at Canterbury; but, as good luck would have it,
she had left that city before we came thither, some time. I was very
short in one thing, that I had not asked my landlady at Sittingbourne
how long it was since my daughter was there. But when I came to
Canterbury I was a very anxious and indefatigable in inquiring after my
daughter, and I found that she had been at the inn where we then were,
and had inquired for me, as I found by the description the people gave
of myself.
Here I learnt my daughter had left Canterbury a week. This pleased me;
and I was determined to stay in Canterbury one day, to view the
cathedral, and see the antiquities of this metropolis.
As we had sixteen miles to our journey's end that night, for it was near
four o'clock before we got into our coach again, the coachman drove with
great speed, and at dusk in the evening we entered the west gate of the
city, and put up at an inn in High Street (near St. Mary Bredman's
church), which generally was filled with the best of company. The
anxiety of my mind, on finding myself pursued by this girl, and the
fatigue of my journey, had made me much out of order, my head ached, and
I had no stomach.
This made my husband (but he knew not the real occasion of my illness)
and the Quaker very uneasy, and they did all in their power to persuade
me to eat anything I could fancy.
At length the landlady of the inn, who perceived I was more disturbed in
my mind than sick, advised me to eat one poached egg, drink a glass of
sack, eat a toast, and go to bed, and she warranted, she said, I should
be well by the morning. This was immediately done; and I must
acknowledge, that the sack and toast cheered me wonderfully, and I began
to take heart again; and my husband would have the coachman in after
supper, on purpose to divert me and the honest Quaker, who, poor
creature, seemed much more concerned at my misfortune than I was myself.
I went soon to bed, but for fear I should be worse in the night, two
maids of the inn were ordered to sit up in an adjoining chamber; the
Quaker and my waiting-maid lay in a bed in the same room, and my
husband by himself in another apartment.
While my maid was gone down on some necessary business, and likewise to
get me some burnt wine, which I was to drink going to bed, or rather
when I was just got into bed, the Quaker and I had the following
dialogue:
_Quaker._ The news thou heardest at Sittingbourne has disordered thee. I
am glad the young woman has been out of this place a week; she went
indeed for Dover; and when she comes there and canst not find thee, she
may go to Deal, and so miss of thee.
_Roxana._ What I most depend upon is, that as we do not travel by any
particular name, but the general one of the baronet and his lady, and
the girl hath no notion what sort of equipage we travelled with, it was
not easy to make a discovery of me, unless she accidentally, in her
travels, light upon you (meaning the Quaker), or upon me; either of
which must unavoidably blow the secret I had so long laboured to
conceal.
_Quaker._ As thou intendest to stay here to-morrow, to see the things
which thou callest antiquities, and which are more properly named the
relics of the Whore of Babylon; suppose thou wert to send Thomas, who at
thy command followeth after us, to the place called Dover, to inquire
whether such a young woman has been inquiring for thee. He may go out
betimes in the morning, and may return by night, for it is but twelve
or fourteen miles at farthest thither.
_Roxana._ I like thy scheme very well; and I beg the favour of you in
the morning, as soon as you are up, to send Tom to Dover, with such
instructions as you shall think proper.
After a good night's repose I was well recovered, to the great
satisfaction of all that were with me.
The good-natured Quaker, always studious to serve and oblige me, got up
about five o'clock in the morning, and going down into the inn-yard, met
with Tom, gave him his instructions, and he set out for Dover before six
o'clock.
As we were at the best inn in the city, so we could readily have
whatever we pleased, and whatever the season afforded; but my husband,
the most indulgent man that ever breathed, having observed how heartily
I ate my dinner at Rochester two days before, ordered the very same bill
of fare, and of which I made a heartier meal than I did before. We were
very merry, and after we had dined, we went to see the town-house, but
as it was near five o'clock I left the Quaker behind me, to receive what
intelligence she could get concerning my daughter, from the footman, who
was expected to return from Dover at six.
We came to the inn just as it was dark, and then excusing myself to my
husband, I immediately ran up into my chamber, where I had appointed the
Quaker to be against my return. I ran to her with eagerness, and
inquired what news from Dover, by Tom, the footman.
She said, Tom had been returned two hours; that he got to Dover that
morning between seven and eight, and found, at the inn he put up at,
there had been an inquisitive young woman to find out a gentleman that
was a Dutch merchant, and a lady who was her mother; that the young
woman perfectly well described his lady; that he found that she had
visited every public inn in the town; that she said she would go to
Deal, and that if she did not find the lady, her mother, there, she
would go by the first ship to the Hague, and go from thence, to
Amsterdam and Rotterdam, searching all the towns through which she
passed in the United Provinces.
This account pleased me very well, especially when I understood that she
had been gone from Dover five days. The Quaker comforted me, and said it
was lucky this busy creature had passed the road before us, otherwise
she might easily have found means to have overtaken us, for, as she
observed, the wench had such an artful way of telling her story, that
she moved everybody to compassion; and she did not doubt but that if we
had been before, as we were behind, she would have got those who would
have assisted her with a coach, &c., to have pursued us, and they might
have come up with us.
I was of the honest Quaker's sentiments. I grew pretty easy, called Tom,
and gave him half a guinea for his diligence; then I and the Quaker went
into the parlour to my husband, and soon after supper came in, and I
ate moderately, and we spent the remainder of the evening, for the clock
had then tolled nine, very cheerfully; for my Quaker was so rejoiced at
my good fortune, as she called it, that she was very alert, and
exceeding good company; and her wit, and she had no small share of it, I
thought was better played off than ever I had heard it before.