by his own inclination, for brothers are not fathers; and they have been cruelly used already, poor girls; we have often relieved them, both with victuals and clothes too, even while they were pretended to be kept by their barbarous aunt." "Well, madam," says Amy, "what can I do for them; they are gone, it seems, and cannot be heard of? When I see them, 'tis time enough." She pressed Amy then to oblige their brother, out of the plentiful fortune he was like to have, to do something for his sisters when he should be abie. Amy spoke coldly of that still, but said she would consider of it; and so they parted for that time; they had several meetings after this, for Amy went to see her adopted son, and ordered his schooling, clothes, and other things, but enjoined them not to tell the young man anything, but that they thought the trade he was at too hard for him, and they would keep him at home a little longer, and give him some schooling, to fit him for better business; and Amy appeared to him as she did before, only as one that had known his mother, and had some kindness for him. Thus this matter passed on for near a twelvemonth, when it happened that one of my maidservants having asked Amy leave, for Amy was mistress of the servants, and took in and put out such as she pleased; I say, having asked leave to go into the city to see some friends, came home crying bitterly, and in a most grievous agony she was, and continued so several days, till Amy, perceiving the excess, and that the maid would certainly cry herself sick, she took an opportunity with her, and examined her about it. The maid told her a long story that she had been to see her brother, the only brother she had in the world, and that she knew he was put out an apprentice to a ― ; but there had come a lady in a coach to his uncle who had brought him up, and made him take him home again; and so the wench run on with the whole story, just as 'tis told above, till she came to that part that belonged to herself, and there, says she, "I had not let them know where I lived, and the lady would have taken me, and they say, would have provided for me too, as she has done for my brother, but nobody could tell where to find me, and so I have lost it all, and all the hopes of being anything but a poor servant all my days:" and then the girl fell a crying. Amy said, "what's all this story? who could this lady be? it must be some trick sure."-" No," she said, "'twas not a trick, for she had made them take her brother home from apprentice, and bought him new clothes, and put him to have more learning; and the gentlewoman said she would make him her heir." "Her heir," says Amy, "what does that amount to? it may be she has nothing to leave him; she might make anybody her heir.' || "He that brought up your brother?" says || Amy; "why didn't he bring you up too, as well as your brother? Pray who brought you up?" Here the poor girl told a melancholy story, how an aunt had brought up her and her sister, and how barbarously she had used them, as we have heard. By this time Amy had her head full enough, and her heart too; and did not know how to hold it, or what to do, for she was satisfied that this was no other than my own daughter; for she told her all the history of her father and mother, and how she was carried by their maid to her aunt's door, just as is related in the beginning of my story. Amy did not tell me this story for a great while, nor did she well know what course to take in it; but as she had authority to manage everything in the family, she took occasion some time after, without letting me know anything of it, to find some 'fault with the maid, and turn her away. Her reasons were good, though at first I was not pleased when I heard of it, but I was convinced afterwards, that she was in the right; for if she had told me of it, I should have been in great perplexity between the difficulty of concealing myself from my own child, and the inconvenience of having my way of living be known among my first hushand's relations, and even to my husband himself; for as to his being dead at Paris, Amy seeing me resolved against marrying any more, had told me that she had formed that story only to make me easy, when I was in Holland, if any thing should offer to my liking. However, I was too tender a mother still, notwithstanding what I had done, to let this poer | girl go about the world drudging, as it were for | bread, and slaving at the fire, and in the kitchen, I as a cook maid; besides it came into my head, that she might marry some poor devil of a footman, or a coachman, or some such thing, and be undone that way, or, which was worse, be drawn in to lie with some of that coarse cursed kind, and be with child, and be utterly ruined that way; and in the midst of all my prosperity this gave me great uneasiness. As to sending Amy to her, there was no doing that now; for as she had been servant in the house, she knew Amy as well as Amy knew me; and no doubt, though I was much out of her sight, yet she might have had the curiosity to have peeped at me, and seen me enough to know me again, if I had discovered myself to her; se that, in short, there was nothing to be done that way. However, Amy, a diligent indefatigable creature, found out another woman and gave her her errand, and sent her to the honest man's house in Spitalfields, whither she supposed the girl would go, after she was out of her place; and bade her talk with her, and tell her at a distance that as something had been done for her brother, so something would be done for her too; and that she should not be discouraged, she carried "No, no;" says the girl, "she came in a fine 20l. to buy her clothes, and bid her not go to coach and horses, and I don't know how many footmen to attend her, and brought a great bag of gold, and gave it to my uncle- he that brought up my brother, to buy him clothes, and to pay for his schooling and board." service any more, but think of other things; that she should take a lodging in some good family, and she should soon hear further. The girl was overjoyed with this news, you may be sure, and at first a little too much ele- All this was acted in the first years of my set- I an 66 swered him, and told him his lady was not at 66 Accordingly I came on the Tuesday, and stayed a fortnight, but he came not; so I went back to Kensington, and after that I had very few of his lordship's visits, which I was very glad of, and in little time after was more glad of it than I was at first, and upon a better account too. For now I began not to be sick of his lordship only, but really I began to be sick of the vice; and as I had good leisure now to divert and enjoy myself in the world, as much as it was possible for any woman to do that ever lived in it; so I found that my judgment began to prevail upon me to fix my delight upon nobler objects than I had formerly done, and the very beginning of this brought some just reflection upon me relating to things past, and to the former manner of my living; and though there was not the least hint in all this from what may be called religion or conscience, and far from anything of repentance, or anything that was akin to it, especially at first; yet the sense of things, and the knowledge I had of the world, and the vast variety of scenes that I had acted my part in, began to work upon my senses, and it came so very strong upon my mind one morning when I had been lying awake some time in my bed, as if somebody had asked me the question, What was I a whore for now? It But he put the occasion into my hands, for he occurred naturally upon this inquiry, that at first came no more to me for two months; indeed, II yielded to the importunity of my circumstances, expected a fit of absence, for such I had had several times before, but not for above a fortnight or three weeks at most: but after I had staid a month, which was longer than ever he kept away yet, I took a new method with him, for I was resolved now it should be in my power to continue or not, as I thought fit. At the end of a month therefore I removed, and took lodgings at Kensington Gravel Pits, and that part next to the road to Acton, and left nobody in my lodg- || ings but Amy and the footman, with proper instructions how to behave, when his lordship, being come to himself, should think fit to come again, which I knew he would. About the end of two months he came in the dusk of the evening as usual; the footman an the misery of which the devil dismally aggravated, to draw me to comply; for I confess I had strong natural aversions to the crime at first, partly owing to a virtuous education, and partly to a sense of religion; but the devil, and that greater devil of poverty prevailed; and the person who laid siege to me, did it in such an obliging, and I may almost say, irresistible manner, all still managed by the evil spirit, for I must be allowed to believe that he has a share in all such things, if not the whole management of them. But, I say, it was carried on by that person in such an irresistible manner, that (as I said) when I related the fact, there was no withstanding it these circumstances, I say, the devil managed not only to bring me to comply, but he continued them as arguments to fortify my mind against all reflec- || more; these put together, when I ruminated on tions, and to keep me in that horrid course I had engaged in, as if it were honest and lawful. But not to dwell upon that now; this was a pretence, and here was something to be said, though I acknowledge it ought not to have been sufficient to me at all; but I say to leave that, all this was out of doors; the devil himself could not form one argument, or put one reason into my head now, that could serve for an answer, no, not so much as a pretended answer to this question, Why I should be a whore now? It had for a while been a little kind of excuse to me that I was engaged with this wicked old lord, and that I could not in honour forsake him; but how foolish and absurd did it look to repeat the word honour on so vile an occasion? as if a woman should prostitute her honour in point of honour; horrid inconsistency! Honour called upon me to detest the crime and the man too, and to have resisted all the attacks which, from the beginning, had been made upon my virtue; and honour, had it been consulted, would have preserved me honest from the beginning. "For HONESTY and HONOUR are the same." This, however, shows us with what faint excuses, and with what trifles we pretend to satisfy ourselves, and suppress the attempts of conscience in the pursuit of an agreeable crime, and in the possessing those pleasures which we are loth to part with. it all in my thoughts, as you may be sure I did often, added weight still to the question, as above, and it sounded continually in my head, what's next? What am I a whore for now? It is true, this was, as I say, seldom out of my thoughts, but yet it made no impressions upon me of that kind which might be expected from a reflection of so important a nature, and which had so much of substance and seriousness in it. But, however, it was not without some little consequences even at that time, and which gave a little turn to my way of living at first, as you shall hear in its place. But one particular thing intervened besides this, which gave me some uneasiness at this time, and made way for other things that fol lowed. I have mentioned in several little digres sions, the concern I had upon me for my chil dren, and in what manner I had directed that affair; I must go on a little with that part, in order to bring the subsequent parts of my story together. My boy, the only son I had left I had a legal right to call son, was, as I have said, rescued from the unhappy circumstances of being apprentice to a mechanic, and was brought up upon & new foot; but though this was infinitely to his advantage, yet it put him back near three years in his coming into the world, for he had been near a year at the drudgery he was first put to, and it took up two years more to form him for But this objection would now serve no longer, what he had hopes given him he should hereafter for my lord had, in some sort, broke his engage- be, so that he was fully nineteen years old, or ments (I won't call it honour again) with me, and rather twenty years, before he came to be put out had so far slighted me as fairly to justify my enas I intended; at the end of which time I put tire quitting of him now; and so as the objection him to a very flourishing Italian merchant, and was fully answered, the question remained still he again sent him to Messina, in the island of unanswered, Why am I a whore now? Nor Sicily; and a little before the juncture I am now indeed had I anything to say for myself, even to speaking of, I had letters from him, that is to myself; I could not, without blushing, as wicked say, Mrs Amy had letters from him, intimating as I was, answer, that I loved it for the sake of that he was out of his time, and that he had an the vice, and that I delighted in being a whore, opportunity to be taken into an English house as such; I say, I could not say this, even to my-there, on very good terms, if his support from self, and all alone, nor indeed would it have been hence might answer what he was bid to hope true. I was never able in justice, and with for; and so begged that what would be done for truth, to say I was so wicked as that; but as him might be so ordered that he might have it necessity first debauched me, and poverty made for his present advancement, referring for the me a whore at the beginning, so excess of ava- particulars to his master, the merchant in Lonrice for getting money, and excess of vanity, con- don, whom he had been apprentice to here; who, tinued me in the crime, not being able to resist the to cut the story short, gave such a satisfactory flatteries of great persons; being called the finest account of it, and of my young man, to my steady woman in France; being caressed by a prince; and faithful counsellor, Sir Robert Clayton, that and afterwards I had pride enough to expect, I made no scruple to pay 4,000l. which was and folly enough to believe, though indeed with-1,000l. more than he demanded, or rather pro. out ground, by a great monarch. These were my baits, these the chains by which the devil held me bound, and by which I was indeed so fast held for any reasoning that I was then mis tress of to deliver me from. But this was all over now, avarice could have no pretence; I was out of the reach of all that fate could do to reduce me; now I was so far from poor, or the danger of it, that I had 50,000/. in my pocket at least; nay, I had the income of 50,000l., for I had 2,500l. a-year coming in upon very good land security, besides three or four thousand pounds in money, which I kept by me for ordinary occasions, and besides jewels and plate, and goods, which were worth near 5,6001. posed, that he might have encouragement to enter into the world better than he expected. His master remitted the money very faithfully to him, and finding, by Sir Robert Clayton, that the young gentleman, for so he called him, was well supported, wrote such letters on his account, as gave him a credit at Messina equal in value to the money itself. I could not digest it very well, that I should all this while conceal myself thus from my own child, and make all this favour due, in his opinion, to a stranger; and yet I could not find in my heart to let my son know what a mother he had, and what a life she lived; when, at the same time, that he must think himself infinitely obliged to me, he must be obliged, if he was a man of virtue, to hate his mother, and abhor the way of living, by which all the bounty he enjoyed was raised. This is the reason of mentioning this part of my son's story, which is otherwise no ways concerned in my history, but as it put me upon thinking how to put an end to that wicked course I was in, that my own child, when he should afterwards come to England in a good figure, and with the appearance of a merchant, should not be ashamed to own me. But there was another difficulty, which lay|| heavier upon me a great deal, and that was, my daughter; who, as before, I had relieved by the hands of another instrument, which Amy had procured. The girl, as I have mentioned, was directed to put herself into a good garb, take lodgings, and entertain a maid to wait upon her, to give herself some breeding, that is to say, to learn to dance, and fit herself to appear as a gentlewoman; being made to hope, that she should, sometime or other, find that she should be put into a condition to support her character, and to make herself amends for all her former troubles; she was only charged not to be drawn into matrimony, till she was secured of a fortune that might assist to dispose of herself suitable not to what then she was, but what she was to be. The girl was too sensible of her circumstances not to give all possible satisfaction of that kind, and indeed she was mistress of too much understanding not to see how much she should be obliged to that part for her own interest. It was not long after this, but being well equipped, and in every thing well set out, as she was directed, she came as I have related above, and paid a visit to Mrs Amy, and to tell her of her good fortune. Amy pretended to be much surprised at the alteration, and overjoyed for her sake, and began to treat her very well, entertained her handsomely, and when she would have gone away pretended to ask my leave, and sent my coach home with her; and, in short, learning from her where she lodged, which was in the city, Amy promised to return her visit, and did so; and, in a word, Amy and Susan (for she was my own name) began an intimate acquaintance together. changed several visits, the girl now grown a woman, talking to Amy of the gay things that used to fall out when she was servant in my family, spoke of it with a kind of concern, that she could not see (me) her lady; and at last she adds, "'twas very strange, madam," says she to Amy, "but though I lived near two years in the house, I never saw my mistress in my life, except it was that public night when she danced in the fine Turkish habit, and then she was so disguised that I knew nothing of her afterwards." Amy was glad to hear this; but as she was a cunning girl from the beginning, she was not to be bit, and so she laid no stress upon that at first, but gave me an account of it; and I must confess it gave me a secret joy to think that I was not known to her; and that, by virtue of that only accident, I might, when other circumstances made room for it, discover myself to her, and let her know that she had a mother in a condition fit to be owned. It was a dreadful restraint to me before, and this gave me some very sad reflections, and made way for the great question I have mentioned above; and by how much the circumstance was bitter to, by so much the more agreeable it was to understand that the girl had never seen me, and consequently, did not know me again if she was to be told who I was. However, the next time she came to visit Amy I was resolved to put it to a trial, and to come into the room and let her see me, and to see by that, whether she knew me or no; but Amy put me by, lest indeed, as there was reason enough to question, I should not be able to contain, or forbear discovering myself to her; so it went off for that time. But both these circumstances, and that is the reason of my mentioning them, brought me to consider of the life I lived, and to resolve to put myself into some figure of life, in which I might not be scandalous to my own family, and be afraid to make myself known to my own children, who were my own flesh and blood. There was another daughter I had, which, with all our inquiries we could not hear of, high nor low, for several years after the first. But I return to my own story. Being now in part removed from my old station, I seemed to be in a fair way of retiring There was an inexpressible difficulty in the from my old acquaintances, and consequently poor girl's way, or else I should not have been from the vile abominable trade I had driven so able to have forborne discovering myself to her, long; so that the door seemed to be, as it were, and this was, her having been a servant in my particularly opened to my reformation, if I had particular family; and I could by no means think any mind to it in earnest; but, for all that, some of ever letting the children know what a kind of of my old friends, as I used to call them, inquired creature they owed their being to, or giving them me out, and came to visit me at Kensington, and an occasion to upbraid their motheir with her that more frequently than I wished they would scandalous life, much less to justify the like prac-do; but it being once known where I was, there tice from my example. Thus it was with me; and thus, no doubt, considering parents always find it, that their own children are a restraint to them in their worst courses, when the sense of a Superior Power has not the same influence. But of that hereafter. There happened, however, one good circumstance in the case of this poor girl, which brought about a discovery sooner than otherwise it would have been, and it was thus: after she and Amy had been intimate for some time, and had ex was no avoiding it, unless I would have downright refused and affronted them; and I was not yet in earnest enough with my resolutions to go that length. The best of it was, my old lewd favourite, whom I now heartily hated, entirely dropped me; he came once to visit me, but I caused Amy to deny me, and say I was gone out; she did it so oddly too, that when his lordship went away, he said coldly to her, "Well, well, Mrs Amy, I find your mistress does not desire to be seen; tell her I won't trouble her any more," repeating || the words any more two or three times over, just at his going away. I reflected a little on it at first, as unkind to him, having had so many considerable presents from him, but, as I have said, I was sick of him, and that on some accounts, which if I could suffer myself to publish them, would fully justify my conduct; but that part of the story will not bear telling, so I must leave it and proceed. I had begun a little, as I have said above, to reflect upon my manner of living, and to think of putting a new face upon it; and nothing moved me to it more than the consideration of my having three children, who were now grown up; and yet, that while I was in that station of life I could not converse with them, or make myself known to them; and this gave me a great deal of uneasiness; at last I entered into a talk on this part of it with my woman Amy. We lived at Kensington, as I have said, and though I had done with my old wicked Las above, yet I was frequently visited, as I said, by some others, so that, in a word, began to be known in the town, not by name only, but my character too, which was worse. It was one morning when Amy was in bed with me, and I had some of my dullest thoughts about me, that Amy hearing me sigh pretty often, asked me if I was not well? Yes, Amy, 66 I am well enough," says 1, " but my mind is oppressed with heavy thoughts, and has been so a good while; and then I told her how it grieved me that I could not make myself known to my own children, or form any acquaintances in the world." Why so?" says Amy. Why, prithee," says I, "what will my children say to themselves, and to one another, when they find their mother, however rich she may be, is at best but a whore, a common whore? And as for acquaintance, prithee Amy, what sober lady, or what family of any character will visit or be acquainted with a whore?" 66 Why, all that's true, madam," says Amy; "but how can it be remedied now ?"""Tis true, Amy," said I, "the thing cannot be remedied now, but the scandal of it, I fancy, may be thrown off. 66 Truly," says Amy, "I don't see how, unless you will go abroad again, and live in some other nation, where nobody has known us, or seen us, so that they cannot say they ever saw us before." That very thought of Amy put what follows into my head; and I returned, " Why, Amy," says I, "is it not possible for me to shift my being, from this part of the town, and go and live in another part of the city, or another part of the country, and be as entirely concealed as if I had never been known ?" "Yes," says Amy, "I believe it might; but then you must put off all your equipages, and servants, coaches and horses; change your liveries, nay, your own clothes, and if it was possible your very face." "Well," says I," and that's the way, Amy, and that I'll do, and that forthwith; for I am not able to live in this manner any longer." Amy came into this with a kind of pleasure particular to herself, that is to say, with an eagerness not to be resisted; for Amy was apt to be precipitant in her motions, and was for doing it immediately. "Well," says I, " Amy, as soon as you will, but what course must we take to do it? we cannot put off servants and coach and horses, and every thing, leave off housekeeping, and transform ourselves into a new shape all in a moment; servants must have warning, and the goods must be sold off, and a thousand things," and this began to perplex us, and in particular took us up two or three days' consideration. "Come, Amy," says I, "let us hear it, for you please me mightily with the thoughts of it." city this afternoon, and I'll inquire out some hoWhy, then," says Amy, "let me go into the nest, plain, sober family, where I will take lodgings for you, as for a country-gentlewoman that desires to be in London for about half a year, and to board yourself and a kinswoman, that is half and so agree with them by the month. a servant, half a companion, meaning myself; mind) you may go to-morrow morning in a hack"To this lodging (if I hit upon one to your ney-coach, with nobody but me, and leave such clothes and linen as you think fit; but to be sure, the plainest you have; and then you are removed at once, you need never so much as set your foot in this house again (meaning where we then were) or see anybody belonging to it; in the meantime I'll let the servants know that you are going over to Holland upon extraordinary business, and will leave off your equipages, and so I'll give them warning, or, if they will accept of it, give them a month's wages; and then I will sell off your furniture as well as I can; as to your coach, it is but having it new painted, and the lining changed, and getting new harness and hammercloths, and you may keep it still, or dispose of it as you think fit; and only take care to let this lodging be in some remote part of the town, and you may be as perfectly unknown, as if you had never been in England in your life." This was Amy's scheme, and it pleased me so well, that I resolved not only to let her go, but was resolved to go with her myself; but Amy put me off of that, because, she said, she should have occasion to hurry up and down so long, that if I was with her it would rather hinder than further her; so I waved it. 66 In a word, Amy went, and was gone five long hours; but when she came back, I could see by her countenance that her success had been suitable to her pains, for she came laughing and gaping. O madam!" says she, "I have pleased you to the life;" and with that, she tells me how she had fixed upon a house in a court in the Minories; that she was directed to it merely by accident; that it was a female family, the master of the house being gone to New England, and that the woman had four children, kept two maids, and lived very handsomely, but wanted company |