since we saw each other, but as this is my first letter, so it
shall contain all the business thou wouldst know. I got safe to
London, by thy careful ordering of the coach, and the attendants
were not at all wanting in their duty. When I had been at home a
few days, thy woman, Mrs. Amy, came to see me, so I took her to
task as thou ordered me, about murdering thy pretended daughter;
she declared her innocence, but said she had procured a false
evidence to swear a large debt against her, and by that means had
put her into a prison, and fee'd the keepers to hinder her from
sending any letter or message out of the prison to any person
whatever. This, I suppose, was the reason thou thought she was
murdered, because thou wert relieved from her by this base usage.
However, when I heard of it, I checked Amy very much, but was well
satisfied to hear she was alive. After this I did not hear from Amy
for above a month, and in the interim (as I knew thou wast safe), I
sent a friend of mine to pay the debt, and release the prisoner,
which he did, but was so indiscreet as to let her know who was the
benefactress. My next care was to manage thy Spitalfields business,
which I did with much exactness. And the day that I received thy
last letter, Amy came to me again, and I read as much of it to her
as she was concerned in: nay, I entreated her to drink tea with me,
and after it one glass of citron, in which she drank towards thy
good health, and she told me she would come to see thee as soon as
possible. Just as she was gone, I was reading thy letter again in
the little parlour, and that turbulent creature (thy pretended
daughter) came to me, as she said, to return thanks for the favour
I had done her, so I accidentally laid thy letter down in the
window, while I went to fetch her a glass of cordial, for she
looked sadly; and before I returned I heard the street door shut,
on which I went back without the liquor, not knowing who might have
come in, but missing her, I thought she might be gone to stand at
the door, and the wind had blown it to; but I was never the nearer,
she was sought for in vain. So when I believed her to be quite
gone, I looked to see if I missed anything, which I did not; but at
last, to my great surprise, I missed your letter, which she
certainly took and made off with. I was so terrified at this
unhappy chance that I fainted away, and had not one of my maidens
come in at that juncture, it might have been attended with fatal
consequences. I would advise thee to prepare thyself to see her,
for I verily believe she will come to thee. I dread your knowing of
this, but hope the best. Before I went to fetch the unhappy
cordial, she told me, as she had often done before, that she was
the eldest daughter, that the captain's wife was your second
daughter, and her sister, and that the youngest sister was dead.
She also said there were two brothers, the eldest of whom had never
been seen by any of them since he run away from an uncle's at nine
years of age, and that the youngest had been taken care of by an
old lady that kept her coach, whom he took to be his godmother. She
gave me a long history in what manner she was arrested and flung
into Whitechapel jail, how hardly she fared there; and at length
the keeper's wife, to whom she told her pitiful story, took
compassion of her, and recommended her to the bounty of a certain
lady who lived in that neighbourhood, that redeemed prisoners for
small sums, and who lay for their fees, every return of the day of
her nativity; that she was one of the six the lady had discharged;
that the lady prompted her to seek after her mother; that she
thereupon did seek thee in all the towns and villages between
London and Dover; that not finding thee at Dover she went to Deal;
and that at length, she being tired of seeking thee, she returned
by shipping to London, where she was no sooner arrived but she was
immediately arrested and flung into the Marshalsea prison, where
she lived in a miserable condition, without the use of pen, ink,
and paper, and without the liberty of having any one of her friends
come near her. 'In this condition I was,' continued she, 'when you
sent and paid my debt for me, and discharged me.' When she had
related all this she fell into such a fit of crying, sighing, and
sobbing, from which, when she was a little recovered, she broke out
into loud exclamations against the wickedness of the people in
England, that they could be so unchristian as to arrest her twice,
when she said it was as true as the Gospel that she never did owe
to any one person the sum of one shilling in all her life; that she
could not think who it was that should owe her so much ill-will,
for that she was not conscious to herself that she had any ways
offended any person in the whole universal world, except Mrs. Amy,
in the case of her mother, which, she affirmed, she was acquitted
of by all men, and hoped she should be so by her Maker; and that if
she (Mrs. Amy) had any hand in her sufferings, God would forgive
her, as she heartily did. 'But then,' she added, 'I will not stay
in England, I will go all over the world, I will go to France, to
Paris; I know my mother did once live there, and if I do not find
her there, I will go through Holland, to Amsterdam, to Rotterdam;
in short, I will go till I find my mother out, if I should die in
the pursuit.' I should be glad to hear of thine and thy spouse's
welfare, and remain with much sincerity, your sincere friend,
"M.P.
"The ninth of the month called October.
"P.S.--If thou hast any business to transact in this city, pray let
me know; I shall use my best endeavours to oblige thee; my
daughters all join with me in willing thee a hearty farewell."
I concealed my surprise for a few minutes, only till I could get into
the summer-house, at the bottom of our large garden; but when I was shut
in, no living soul can describe the agony I was in, I raved, tore,
fainted away, swore, prayed, wished, cried, and promised, but all
availed nothing, I was now stuck in to see the worst of it, let what
would happen.
At last I came to the following resolution, which was to write a letter
to the Quaker, and in it enclose a fifty pound bank-bill, and tell the
Quaker to give that to the young woman if she called again, and also to
let her know a fifty pound bill should be sent her every year, so long
as she made no inquiry after me, and kept herself retired in England.
Although this opened myself too full to the Quaker, yet I thought I had
better venture my character abroad, than destroy my peace at home.
Soon after, my husband came home, and he perceived I had been crying,
and asked what was the reason. I told him that I had shed tears both
for joy and sorrow: "For," said I, "I have received one of the
tenderest letters from Amy, as it was possible for any person, and she
tells me in it," added I, "that she will soon come to see me; which so
overjoyed me, that I cried, and after it, I went to read the letter a
second time, as I was looking out of the summer-house window over the
canal; and in unfolding it, I accidentally let it fall in, by which
mischance it is lost, for which I am very sorry, as I intended you
should see it." "Pray, my dear," said he, "do not let that give you any
uneasiness; if Amy comes, and you approve of it, you have my consent to
take her into the house, in what capacity you please. I am very glad,"
continued he, "that you have nothing of more consequence to be uneasy
at, I fancy you would make but an indifferent helpmate if you had." Oh!
thought I to myself, if you but knew half the things that lie on my
conscience, I believe you would think that I bear them out past all
example.
About ten days afterwards, as we were sitting at dinner with two
gentlemen, one of the footmen came to the door, and said, "My lady, here
is a gentlewoman at the door who desires to speak with you: she says her
name is Mrs. Amy."
I no sooner heard her name, but I was ready to swoon away, but I ordered
the footman to call Isabel, and ask the gentlewoman to walk up with her
into my dressing-room; which he immediately did, and there I went to
have my first interview with her. She kissed me for joy when she saw
me, and I sent Isabel downstairs, for I was in pain till I had some
private conversation with my old confidante.
There was not much ceremony between us, before I told her all the
material circumstances that had happened in her absence, especially
about the girl's imprisonments which she had contrived, and how she had
got my letter at the Quaker's, the very day she had been there. "Well,"
says Amy, when I had told her all, "I find nothing is to ensue, if she
lives, but your ruin; you would not agree to her death, so I will not
make myself uneasy about her life; it might have been rectified, but you
were angry with me for giving you the best of counsel, viz., when I
proposed to murder her."
"Hussy," said I, in the greatest passion imaginable, "how dare you
mention the word murder? You wretch you, I could find in my heart, if my
husband and the company were gone, to kick you out of my house. Have you
not done enough to kill her, in throwing her into one of the worst jails
in England, where, you see, that Providence in a peculiar manner
appeared to her assistance. Away! thou art a wicked wretch; thou art a
murderer in the sight of God."
"I will say no more," says Amy, "but if I could have found her, after
thy friend the Quaker had discharged her out of the Marshalsea prison, I
had laid a scheme to have her taken up for a theft, and by that means
got her transported for fourteen years. She will be with you soon, I am
sure; I believe she is now in Holland."
While we were in this discourse, I found the gentlemen who dined with us
were going, so we came downstairs, and I went into the parlour to take
leave of them before their departure. When they were gone, my husband
told me he had been talking with them about taking upon him the title of
Count or Earl of ----, as he had told me of, and as an opportunity now
offered, he was going to put it in execution.
I told him I was so well settled, as not to want anything this world
could afford me, except the continuance of his life and love (though the
very thing he had mentioned, joined with the death of my daughter, in
the natural way, would have been much more to my satisfaction). "Well,
my dear," says he, "the expense will be but small, and as I promised you
the title, it shall not be long before the honour shall be brought home
to your toilette." He was as good as his word, for that day week he
brought the patent home to me, in a small box covered with crimson
velvet and two gold hinges. "There, my lady countess," says he, "long
may you live to bear the title, for I am certain you are a credit to
it." In a few days after, I had the pleasure to see our equipage, as
coach, chariot, &c., all new painted, and a coronet fixed at the proper
place, and, in short, everything was proportioned to our quality, so
that our house vied with most of the other nobility.
It was at this juncture that I was at the pinnacle of all my worldly
felicity, notwithstanding my soul was black with the foulest crimes.
And, at the same time, I may begin to reckon the beginning of my
misfortunes, which were in embryo, but were very soon brought forth, and
hurried me on to the greatest distress.
As I was sitting one day talking to Amy in our parlour, and the street
door being left open by one of the servants, I saw my daughter pass by
the window, and without any ceremony she came to the parlour door, and
opening of it, came boldly in. I was terribly amazed, and asked her who
she wanted, as if I had not known her, but Amy's courage was quite lost,
and she swooned away. "Your servant, my lady," says she; "I thought I
should never have had the happiness to see you _tête-à-tête_, till your
agent, the Quaker, in Haydon Yard, in the Minories, carelessly left a
direction for me in her own window; however, she is a good woman, for
she released me out of a jail in which, I believe, that base wretch"
(pointing to Amy, who was coming to herself) "caused me to be confined."
As soon as Amy recovered, she flew at her like a devil, and between them
there was so much noise as alarmed the servants, who all came to see
what was the matter. Amy had pulled down one of my husband's swords,
drawn it, and was just going to run her through the body, as the
servants came in, who not knowing anything of the matter, some of them
secured Amy, others held the girl, and the rest were busy about me, to
prevent my fainting away, which was more than they could do, for I fell
into strong fits, and in the interim they turned the girl out of the
house, who was fully bent on revenge.
My lord, as I now called him, was gone out a-hunting. I was satisfied he
knew nothing of it, as yet, and when Amy and I were thoroughly come to
ourselves, we thought it most advisable to find the girl out, and give
her a handsome sum of money to keep her quiet. So Amy went out, but in
all her searching could hear nothing of her; this made me very uneasy. I
guessed she would contrive to see my lord before he came home, and so it
proved, as you shall presently hear.
When night came on, that I expected his return, I wondered I did not see
him. Amy sat up in my chamber with me, and was as much concerned as was
possible. Well, he did not come in all that night, but the next morning,
about ten o'clock, he rapped at the door, with the girl along with him.
When it was opened, he went into the great parlour, and bid Thomas go
call down his lady. This was the crisis. I now summoned up all my
resolution, and took Amy down with me, to see if we could not baffle the
girl, who, to an inch, was her mother's own child.
It will be necessary here to give a short account of our debate, because
on it all my future misery depended, and it made me lose my husband's
love, and own my daughter; who would not rest there, but told my lord
how many brothers and sisters she had.
When we entered the room, my lord was walking very gravely about it, but
with his brows knit, and a wild confusion in his face, as if all the
malice and revenge of a Dutchman had joined to put me out of countenance
before I spoke a word.
"Pray, madam," says he, "do you know this young woman? I expect a speedy
and positive answer, without the least equivocation."
"Really, my lord," replied I, "to give you an answer as quick as you
desire, I declare I do not."
"Do not!" said he, "what do you mean by that? She tells me that you are
her mother, and that her father ran away from you, and left two sons,
and two daughters besides herself, who were all sent to their relations
for provision, after which you ran away with a jeweller to Paris. Do you
know anything of this? answer me quickly."
"My lord," said the girl, "there is Mrs. Amy, who was my mother's
servant at the time (as she told me herself about three months ago),
knows very well I am the person I pretend to be, and caused me to be
thrown into jail for debts I knew nothing of, because I should not find
out my mother to make myself known to her before she left England."
After this she told my lord everything she knew of me, even in the
character of Roxana, and described my dress so well, that he knew it to
be mine.
[Illustration: ROXANA IS CONFRONTED WITH HER DAUGHTER
"_Pray, madam," says he, "do you know this young woman?_"]
When she had quite gone through her long relation, "Well, madam,"
says he, "now let me see if I cannot tell how far she has told the truth
in relation to you. When I first became acquainted with you, it was on
the sale of those jewels, in which I stood so much your friend, at a
time that you were in the greatest distress, your substance being in the
hands of the Jew; you then passed for a jeweller's widow; this agrees
with her saying you ran away with a jeweller. In the next place, you
would not consent to marry me about twelve years ago; I suppose then
your real husband was living, for nothing else could tally with your
condescension to me in everything except marriage. Since that time, your
refusing to come to Holland in the vessel I had provided for you, under
a distant prospect of your being with child, though in reality it was
your having a child too much, as the captain told me of, when I, being
ignorant of the case, did not understand him. Now," continued he, "she
says that you are the identical Lady Roxana which made so much noise in
the world, and has even described the robe and head-dress you wore on
that occasion, and in that I know she is right; for, to my own
knowledge, you have that very dress by you now; I having seen you
dressed in it at our lodging at the Quaker's. From all these
circumstances," says he, "I may be assured that you have imposed grossly
upon me, and instead of being a woman of honour as I took you for, I
find that you have been an abandoned wretch, and had nothing to
recommend you but a sum of money and a fair countenance, joined to a
false unrelenting heart."
These words of my lord's struck such a damp upon my spirits, as made me
unable to speak in my turn. But at last, I spoke as follows: "My lord, I
have most patiently stood to hear all it was possible for you to allege
against me, which has no other proof than imagination. That I was the
wife of a brewer, I have no reason now to deny, neither had I any
occasion before to acknowledge it. I brought him a handsome fortune,
which, joined to his, made us appear in a light far superior to our
neighbours. I had also five children by him, two sons and three
daughters, and had my husband been as wise as rich, we might have lived
happily together now. But it was not so, for he minded nothing but
sporting, in almost every branch; and closely following of it soon run
out all his substance, and then left me in an unhappy, helpless
condition. I did not send my children to my relations till the greatest
necessity drove me, and after that, hearing my husband was dead, I
married the jeweller, who was afterwards murdered. If I had owned how
many children I had, the jeweller would not have married me, and the way
of life I was in would not keep my family, so I was forced to deny them
in order to get them bread. Neither can I say that I have either heard
or known anything of my children since, excepting that I heard they were
all taken care of; and this was the very reason I would not marry you,
when you offered it some years since, for these children lay seriously
at my heart, and as I did not want money, my inclination was to come to
England, and not entail five children upon you the day of marriage."
"Pray, madam," said my lord, interrupting me, "I do not find that you
kept up to your resolutions when you got there; you were so far from
doing your duty as a parent, that you even neglected the civility of
acquaintances, for they would have asked after them, but your whole
scheme has been to conceal yourself as much as possible, and even when
you were found out, denied yourself, as witness the case of your
daughter here. As to the character of Lady Roxana, which you so nicely
managed," said he, "did that become a woman that had five children,
whose necessity had obliged you to leave them, to live in a continual
scene of pageantry and riot, I could almost say debauchery? Look into
your conduct, and see if you deserve to have the title or the estate you
now so happily enjoy."
After this speech, he walked about the room in a confused manner for
some minutes, and then addressed himself to Amy. "Pray, Mrs. Amy," says
he, "give me your judgment in this case, for although I know you are as
much as possible in your lady's interest, yet I cannot think you have so
little charity as to think she acted like a woman of worth and
discretion. Do you really think, as you knew all of them from infants,
that this young woman is your lady's daughter?"
Amy, who always had spirits enough about her, said at once she believed
the girl was my daughter. "And truly," says she, "I think your man
Thomas is her eldest son, for the tale he tells of his birth and
education suits exactly with our then circumstances."
"Why, indeed," said my lord, "I believe so too, for I now recollect that
when we first took him into our service at Dover, he told me he was the
son of a brewer in London; that his father had run away from his mother,
and left her in a distressed condition with five children, of which he
was second child, or eldest son."
Thomas was then called into the parlour, and asked what he knew of his
family; he repeated all as above, concerning his father's running away
and leaving me; but said that he had often asked and inquired after
them, but without any success, and concluded, that he believed his
brothers and sisters were distributed in several places, and that his
mother died in the greatest distress, and was buried by the parish.
"Indeed," said my lord, "it is my opinion that Thomas is one of your
sons; do not you think the same?" addressing himself to me.
"From the circumstances that have been related, my lord," said I, "I now
believe that these are both my children; but you would have thought me a
mad woman to have countenanced and taken this young woman in as my
child, without a thorough assurance of it; for that would have been
running myself to a certain expense and trouble, without the least
glimpse of real satisfaction."
"Pray," said my lord to my daughter, "let me know what is become of
your brothers and sisters; give me the best account of them that you
can."
"My lord," replied she, "agreeably to your commands, I will inform you
to the best of my knowledge; and to begin with myself, who am the eldest
of the five. I was put to a sister of my father's with my youngest
brother, who, by mere dint of industry, gave us maintenance and
education, suitable to her circumstances; and she, with my uncle's
consent, let me go to service when I was advanced in years; and among
the variety of places I lived at, Lady Roxana's was one."
"Yes," said Thomas, "I knew her there, when I was a valet at my Lord
D----'s, the next door; it was there I became acquainted with her; and
she, by the consent of the gentlewoman," pointing to Amy, "let me see
the Lady Roxana's fine vestment, which she danced in at the grand ball."
"Well," continued my daughter, "after I left this place, I was at
several others before I became acquainted with Mrs. Amy a second time (I
knew her before as Roxana's woman), who told me one day some things
relating to my mother, and from thence I concluded if she was not my
mother herself (as I at first thought she was), she must be employed by
her; for no stranger could profess so much friendship, where there was
no likelihood of any return, after being so many years asunder.
"After this, I made it my business to find your lady out if possible,
and was twice in her company, once on board the ship you were to have
come to Holland in, and once at the Quaker's house in the Minories,
London; but as I gave her broad hints of whom I took her for, and my
lady did not think proper to own me, I began to think I was mistaken,
till your voyage to Holland was put off. Soon after, I was flung into
Whitechapel jail for a false debt, but, through the recommendation of
the jailer's wife to the annual charity of the good Lady Roberts, of
Mile End, I was discharged. Whereupon I posted away, seeking my mother
all down the Kent Road as far as Dover and Deal, at which last place not
finding her, I came in a coaster to London, and landing in Southwark,
was immediately arrested, and confined in the Marshalsea prison, where I
remained some time, deprived of every means to let any person without
the prison know my deplorable state and condition, till my chum, a young
woman, my bedfellow, who was also confined for debt, was, by a
gentleman, discharged. This young woman of her own free will, went, my
lord, to your lodgings in the Minories, and acquainted your landlady,
the Quaker, where I was, and for what sum I was confined, who
immediately sent and paid the pretended debt, and so I was a second time
discharged. Upon which, going to the Quaker's to return her my thanks
soon after a letter from your lady to her, with a direction in it where
to find you, falling into my hands, I set out the next morning for the
Hague; and I humbly hope your pardon, my lord, for the liberty I have
taken; and you may be assured, that whatever circumstances of life I
happen to be in, I will be no disgrace to your lordship or family."
"Well," said my husband, "what can you say of your mother's second
child, who, I hear, was a son?"
"My lord," said I, "it is in my power to tell you, that Thomas there is
the son you mention; their circumstances are the same, with this
difference, that she was brought up under the care of a good aunt, and
the boy forced to run away from a bad one, and shift for his bread ever
since; so if she is my daughter, he is my son, and to oblige you, my
lord, I own her, and to please myself I will own him, and they two are
brother and sister." I had no sooner done speaking, than Thomas fell
down before me, and asked my blessing, after which, he addressed himself
to my lord as follows:
"My lord," said he, "out of your abundant goodness you took me into your
service at Dover. I told you then the circumstances I was in, which will
save your lordship much time by preventing a repetition; but, if your
lordship pleases, it shall be carefully penned down, for such a variety
of incidents has happened to me in England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland,
Holland, France, and the Isle of Man, in which I have travelled for
about eighteen years past, as may prove an agreeable amusement to you,
when you are cloyed with better company; for as I have never been
anything above a common servant, so my stories shall only consist of
facts, and such as are seldom to be met with, as they are all in low
life."
"Well, Thomas," said my lord, "take your own time to do it, and I will
reward you for your trouble."
"Now, madam," said my lord to my daughter, "if you please to proceed."
"My lord," continued she, "my mother's third child, which was a
daughter, lived with the relation I did, and got a place to wait upon a
young lady whose father and mother were going to settle at Boulogne, in
France; she went with them, and having stayed at this gentleman's (who
was a French merchant) two years, was married to a man with the consent
of the family she lived in; and her master, by way of fortune, got him
to be master of a French and Holland coaster, and this was the very
person whose ship you hired to come to Holland in; the captain's wife
was my own sister, consequently my lady's second daughter; as to my
youngest sister, she lived with the uncle and aunt Thomas ran away from,
and died of the smallpox soon after. My youngest brother was put out
apprentice to a carpenter, where he improved in his business, till a
gentlewoman came to his master and mistress (which I take by the
description they gave me, to be Mrs. Amy), who had him put out to an
education fit for a merchant, and then sent him to the Indies, where he
is now settled, and in a fair way to get a large estate. This, my lord,
is the whole account I can at present give of them, and although it may
seem very strange, I assure you, it is all the just truth."