The
Female Spectator.

Book I.

It is very much, by the Choice
we make of Subjects for our Entertainment,
that the refined Taste
distinguishes itself from the vulgar
and more gross: Reading is universally
allowed to be one of the most improving,
as well as agreeable Amusements; but
then to render it so, one should, among the
Number of Books which are perpetually issuing
from the Press, endeavour to single out such as
promise to be most conducive to those Ends. In
order to be as little deceived as possible, I, for
my own part, love to get as well acquainted as
I can with an Author, before I run the risque
of losing my Time in perusing his Work; and
as I doubt not but most People are of this way B2 of B2v 4
of thinking, I shall, in imitation of my learned
Brother of ever precious Memory, give some
Account of what I am, and those concerned
with me in this Undertaking; and likewise of
the chief Intent of the Lucubrations hereafter
communicated, that the Reader, on casting his
Eye over the four or five first Pages, may judge
how far the Book may, or may not be qualified
to entertain him; and either accept, or throw it
aside as he thinks proper: And here I promise,
that in the Pictures I shall give of myself and
Associates, I will draw no flattering Lines, assume
no Perfection that we are not in reality
possessed of, nor attempt to shadow over any
Defect with an artificial Gloss.

As a Proof of my Sincerity, I shall, in the
first place, assure him, that for my own Part
I never was a Beauty, and am now very far
from being young; (a Confession he will find few
of my Sex ready to make:) I shall also acknowledge,
that I have run through as many Scenes
of Vanity and Folly as the greatest Coquet of
them all. — Dress, Equipage, and Flattery, were
the Idols of my Heart. — I should have thought
that Day lost which did not present me with
some new Opportunity of shewing myself. —
My Life, for some Years, was a continued Round
of what I then called Pleasure, and my whole
Time engrossed by a Hurry of promiscuous
Diversions. — But whatever Inconveniences such
a manner of Conduct has brought upon myself,
I have this Consolation, to think that the Publiclic B3r 5
may reap some Benefit from it: — The
Company I kept was not, indeed, always so
well chosen as it ought to have been, for the
sake of my own Interest or Reputation; but
then it was general, and by Consequence furnished
me, not only with the Knowledge of
many Occurrences, which otherwise I had been
ignorant of, but also enabled me, when the too
great Vivacity of my Nature became tempered
with Reflection, to see into the secret Springs
which gave rise to the Actions I had either heard,
or been Witness of, — to judge of the various
Passions of the human Mind, and distinguish
those imperceptible Degrees by which they become
Masters of the Heart, and attain the Dominion
over Reason. — A thousand odd Adventures,
which at the Time they happened
made slight Impression on me, and seemed to
dwell no longer on my Mind than the Wonder
they occasioned, now rise fresh to my Remembrance,
with this Advantage, that the Mystery
I then, for want of Attention, imagined they
contained, is entirely vanished, and I find it easy
to account for the Cause by the Consequence.

With this Experience, added to a Genius
tolerably extensive, and an Education more
liberal than is ordinarily allowed to Persons of
my Sex, I flattered myself that it might be in
my Power to be in some measure both useful
and entertaining to the Public; and this
Thought was so soothing to those Remains of
Vanity, not yet wholly extinguished in me, that I B3v 6
I resolved to pursue it, and immediately began
to consider by what Method I should be most
likely to succeed: To confine myself to any
one Subject, I knew, could please but one kind
of Taste, and my Ambition was to be as universally
read as possible: From my Observations
of human Nature, I found that Curiosity had,
more or less, a Share in every Breast; and my
Business, therefore, was to hit this reigning Humour
in such a manner, as that the Gratification
it should receive from being made acquainted
with other People’s Affairs, should at the same
time teach every one to regulate their own.

Having agreed within myself on this
important Point, I commenced Author, by setting
down many Things, which, being pleasing
to myself, I imagined would be so to others;
but on examining them the next Day, I found
an infinite Deficiency both in Matter and Stile,
and that there was an absolute Necessity for me
to call in to my Assistance such of my Acquaintance
as were qualified for that Purpose. —
The first that occured to me, I shall distinguish
by the Name of Mira, a Lady descended from
a Family to which Wit seems hereditary, married
to a Gentleman every way worthy of so
excellent a Wife, and with whom she lives in so
perfect a Harmony, that having nothing to ruffle
the Composure of her Soul, or disturb those
sparkling Ideas she received from Nature and
Education, left me no room to doubt if what
she favoured me with would be acceptable to the Public. B4r 7
Public. — The next is a Widow of Quality,
who not having buried her Vivacity in the
Tomb of her Lord, continues to makes one in
all the modish Diversions of the Times, so far,
I mean, as she finds them consistent with Innocence
and Honour; and as she is far from having
the least Austerity in her Behaviour, nor is
rigid to the Failings she is wholly free from herself,
those of her Acquaintance, who had been
less circumspect, scruple not to make her the
Confidante of Secrets they conceal from all the
World beside. — The third is the Daughter of a
wealthy Merchant, charming as an Angel, but
endued with so many Accomplishments, that
to those who know her truly, her Beauty is the
least distinguished Part of her. — This fine young
Creature I shall call Euphrosine, since she has all
the Chearfulness and Sweetness ascribed to that
Goddess.

These three approved my Design, assured
me of all the Help they could afford, and soon
gave a Proof of it in bringing their several
Essays; but as the Reader, provided the Entertainment
be agreeable, will not be interested
from which Quarter it comes, whatever Productions
I shall be favoured with from these
Ladies, or any others I may hereafter correspond
with, will be exhibited under the general Title
of The Female Spectator; and how many Contributors
soever there may happen to be to the
Work, they are to be considered only as several Members B4v 8
Members of one Body, of which I am the
Mouth.

It is also highly proper I should acquaint
the Town, that to secure an eternal Fund of Intelligence,
Spies are placed not only in all the
Places of Resort in and about this great Metropolis,
but at Bath, Tunbridge, and the Spaw,
and Means found out to extend my Speculations
even as far as France, Rome, Germany,
and other foreign Parts, so that nothing curious
or worthy of Remark can escape me; and this
I look upon to be a more effectual way of penetrating
into the Mysteries of the Alcove, the
Cabinet, or Field, than if I had the Power of
Invisibility, or could with a Wish transport myself
wherever I pleased, since with the Aid of
those supernatural Gifts, I could still be in no
more than one Place at a Time; whereas now,
by tumbling over a few Papers from my Emissaries,
I have all the Secrets of Europe, at least
such of them as are proper for my Purpose, laid
open at one View.

I would, by no means, however, have what
I say be construed into a Design of gratifying a
vicious Propensity of propagating Scandal: —
Whoever sits down to read me with this View,
will find themselves mistaken; for tho’ I shall
bring real Facts on the Stage, I shall conceal the
Actors Names under such as will be conformable
to their Characters; my Intention being only to C1r 9
to expose the Vice, not the Person. — Nor shall I
confine myself to modern Transactions: — Whenever
I find any Example among the Antients
which may serve to illustrate the Topic I shall
happen to be upon, I shall make no scruple to
insert it. — An Instance of shining Virtue in any
Age, can never be too often proposed as a Pattern,
nor the Fatality of Misconduct too much
impressed on the Minds of our Youth of both
Sexes; and as the sole Aim of the following
Pages is to reform the Faulty, and give an innocent
Amusement to those who are not so, all
possible Care will be taken to avoid every thing
that might serve as Food for the Venom of Malice
and Ill-nature. Whoever, therefore, shall
pretend to fix on any particular Person the Blame
of Actions they may happen to find recorded
here, or make what they call a Key to these Lucubrations,
must expect to see themselves treated
in the next Publication with all the Severity so
unfair a Proceeding merits.

And now having said as much as I think
needful of this Undertaking, I shall, without
being either too greatly confident, or too anxious
for the Success, submit it to the Publick Censure.
“Of all the Passions giv’n us from Above, The noblest, softest, and the best is Love,”
Says a justly celebrated Poet; and I readily agree
that Love in itself, when under the Direction of C Reason, C1v 10
Reason, harmonizes the Soul, and gives it a
gentle, generous Turn; but I can by no means
approve of such Definitions of that Passion as
we generally find in Romances, Novels, and
Plays: In most of those Writings, the Authors
seem to lay out all their Art in rendering that
Character most interesting, which most sets at
Defiance all the Obligations, by the strict Observance
of which Love can alone become a Virtue.
— They dress their Cupid up in Roses, call him
the God of soft Desires, and ever-springing Joys,
yet at the same time give him the vindictive
Fury, and the Rage of Mars. — Shew him impatient
of Controul, and trampling over all the
Ties of Duty, Friendship, or natural Affection,
yet make the Motive sanctify the Crime. — How
fatal, how pernicious to a young and unexperienced
Mind must be such Maxims, especially
when dressed up in all the Pomp of Words!
The Beauty of the Expression steals upon the
Senses, and every Mischief, every Woe that
Love occasions, appears a Charm. — Those who
feel the Passion are so far from endeavouring to
repel its Force, or being ashamed of their Attachment,
however opposite to Reason, that
they indulge and take a Pride in turning into
Ridicule the Remonstrances of their more discerning
Friends. But what is yet more preposterous,
and more evidently shews the ill
Effects of writing in this manner is, that we
often see Girls too young, either to be addressed
to on the Score of Love, or even to know what
is meant by the Passion, affect the Languishment they C2r 11
they read of, — roll their Eyes, sigh, fold their
Arms, neglect every useful Learning, and attend
to nothing but acquiring the Reputation of being
enough a Woman to know all the Pains and
Delicacies of Love.

Miss Tenderilla is one of those I have described:
She was the other Day invited to a
Concert, and as soon as the Music began to
strrike up, cried out in a kind of dying Tone,
yet loud enough to be heard by a great Part of
the Assembly, “‘If Music be the Food of Love, play on.’”
A young Lady happened to be near her, who
is supposed to be very near entering into the Marriage-State,
but contents herself with discovering
what Sentiments she is possessed of in favour of
her intended Bridegroom only to those interested
in them. — She blushed extremely at the Extravagance
of her Companion, and the more so, as
she found the Eyes of every one turned upon
her, and by their Smiles and Whispers to each
other, shewed that they imagined Miss had burst
into this Exclamation merely on her Account. A
smart Gentleman, on the next Bench to them,
took this Opportunity of rallying her very wittily,
as he thought, on the Discovery the young
Confidante had made; and the poor Lady was
in the utmost Confusion, ’till she who had occasioned
it being vexed to find what she had said
so much mistaken, and that no Notice was taken C2 of C2v 12
of herself, behaved in such a manner as left no
room to doubt which of them was the proper
Object for Ridicule.

How easy were it now for a designing Fortune-Hunter
to make a Prey of this Bib-and-
Apron Heroine! — The less qualified he was to
render her Choice of him approved, and the
more averse her Friends appeared to such a
Match, the more would she glory in a noble
Obstinacy of contemning their Advice, and sacrificing
her Person and Fortune to an imaginary
Passion for him; and one has no need of being
a very great Prophet to foretel, that if she is not
speedily removed from those who at present have
the Care of her, and some other Methods taken
than such as hitherto have been made use of, to
give her a more rational way of thinking, that
Wealth her frugal Parents hoarded up, in order
to purchase for her a lasting Happiness, will only
prove the Bait for her Destruction.

I am sorry to observe, that of late Years this
Humour has been strangely prevalent among our
young Ladies, some of whom are scarce entered
into their Teens before they grow impatient
for Admiration, and to be distinguished in Love-
Songs and Verses, expect to have a great Bustle
made about them, and he that first attempts to
perswade them he is a Lover, bids very fair for
carrying his Point. — The Eagerness of their
Wishes to be addressed, gives Charms to the
Address itself, which otherwise it would not have; C3r 13
have; and hence it follows, that when a young
Creature has suffered herself to fall a Victim to
the Artifices of her pretended Lover, and her
own giddy Whim, and is afterwards convinced
of her Error, she looks back with no less Wonder
than Shame on her past Conduct, detests the
Object of her former imaginary Passion, and
wishes nothing more than to be eternally rid of
the Presence of him she once with so much
Eagerness pursued.

It is not, therefore, from that Inconstancy of
Nature which the Men charge upon our Sex, but
from that romantic Vein which makes us sometimes
imagine ourselves Lovers before we are so,
that we frequently run such Lengths to shake
off a Yoke we have so precipitately put on. —
When once we truly love, we rarely change:
We bear the Frowns of Fortune with Fortitude
and Patience: — We repent not of the Choice
we have made, whatever we suffered by it; and
nothing but a long continued Series of Slights
and ill Usage from the Object of our Affection
can render him less dear.

To be well convinced of the Sincerity of the
Man they are about to marry, is a Maxim, with
great Justice, always recommended to a young
Lady; but I say it is no less material for her
future Happiness, as well as that of her intended
Partner, that she should be well assured of her
own Heart, and examine, with the utmost Care,
whether it be real Tenderness, or a bare Liking she C3v 14
she at present feels for him; and as this is not to
be done all at once, I cannot approve of hasty
Marriages, or before Persons are of sufficient
Years to be supposed capable of knowing their
own Minds.

Could fourteen have the Power of judging
of itself, or for itself, who that knew the beautiful
Martesia at that Age, but would have depended
on her Conduct! — Martesia, descended of the
most illustrious Race, possessed of all that Dignity
of Sentiment befitting her high Birth,
endued by Nature with a surprizing Wit, Judgment,
and Penetration, and improved by every
Aid of Education. — Martesia, the Wonder and
Delight of all who saw or heard her, gave the
admiring World the greatest Expectations that
she would one Day be no less celebrated for all
those Virtues which render amiable the conjugal
State, than she at that Time was for every other
Perfection that do Honour to the Sex.

Yet how, alas, did all these charming Hopes
vanish into Air! Many noble Youths, her Equals
in Birth and Fortune, watched her Increase
of Years for declaring a Passion, which they
feared as yet would be rejected by those who
had the Disposal of her; but what their Respect
and Timidity forbad them to attempt, a more
daring and unsuspected Rival ventured at, and
succeeded in. — Her unexperienced Heart approved
his Person, and was pleased with the
Protestations he made her of it. — In fine, the Novelty C4r 15
Novelty of being addressed in that manner, gave
a double Grace to all he said, and she never
thought herself so happy as in his Conversation.
His frequent Visits at length were taken notice
of; he was denied the Privilege of seeing her,
and she was no longer permitted to go out without
being accompanied by some Person who was
to be a Spy upon her Actions. — She had a great
Spirit, impatient of Controul, and this Restraint
served only to heighten the Inclination she before
had to favour him: — She indulged the most
romantic Ideas of his Merit and his Love: —
Her own flowing Fancy invented a thousand
melancholly and tender Soliloquies, and set them
down as made by him in this Separation: It is
not, indeed, to be doubted, but that he was very
much mortified at the Impediment he found in
the Prosecution of his Courtship; but whether
he took this Method of disburthening his Affliction,
neither she nor any body else could be
assured. It cannot, however, be denied, but
that he pursued Means much more efficacious
for the Attainment of his Wishes. By Bribes,
Promises, and Entreaties, he prevailed on a Person
who came frequently to the House to convey
his Letters to her, and bring back her Answers. —
This Correspondence was, perhaps, of greater
Service to him, than had the Freedom of their
Interviews not been prevented: — She consented
to be his, and to make good her Word, ventured
her Life, by descending from a two Pair of Stairs
Window, by the Help of Quilt, Blankets, and
other Things fastened to it, at the Dead of Night. C4v 16
Night. — His Coach and Six waited to receive
her at the End of the Street, and conveyed her
to his Country Seat, which reaching soon after
Break of Day, his Chaplain made them too fast
for any Authority to separate.

As he was of an antient honourable Family,
and his Estate very considerable, her Friends in
a short time were reconciled to what was now
irremedible, and they were looked upon as an
extreme happy Pair. — But soon, too soon the
fleeting Pleasures fled, and in their room Anguish
and Bitterness of Heart succeeded.

Martesia, in a Visit she made to a Lady
of her intimate Acquaintance, unfortunately happened
to meet the young Clitander; he was just
returned from his Travels, had a handsome Person,
an Infinity of Gaiety, and a certain Something
in his Air and Deportment which had been
destructive to the Peace and Reputation of many
of our Sex. — He was naturally of an amorous
Disposition, and being so, felt all the Force of
Charms, which had some Effect even on the most
Cold and Temperate. — Emboldened by former
Successes, the Knowledge Martesia was another’s,
did not hinder him from declaring to her
the Passion she had inspired him with. — She
found a secret Satisfaction in hearing him, which
she was yet too young to consider the Dangers
of, and therefore endeavoured not to suppress ’till
it became too powerful for her to have done so,
even had she attempted it with all her Might; but D1r 17
but the Truth is, she now experienced in reality
a Flame she had but imagined herself possessed
of for him who was now her Husband, and was
too much averse to the giving herself Pain to
combat with an Inclination which seemed to her
fraught only with Delights.

The House where their Acquaintance first
began, was now the Scene of their future Meetings:
— The Mistress of it was too great a Friend
to Gallantry herself to be any Interruption to the
Happiness they enjoyed in entertaining each
other without Witnesses. — How weak is Virtue
when Love and Opportunity combine! — Tho’
no Woman could have more refined and delicate
Notions than Martesia, yet all were ineffectual
against the Sollicitations of her adored Clitander.
— One fatal Moment destroyed at once all her
own exalted Ideas of Honour and Reputation,
and the Principles early instilled into her Mind
by her virtuous Preceptors.

The Consequence of this Amour was a total
Neglect of Husband, House, and Family. —
Herself abandoned, all other Duties were so too.
— So manifest a Change was visible to all that
knew her, but most to her Husband, as most interested
in it. — He truly loved, and had believed
himself truly beloved by her. — Loth he was to
think his Misfortune real, and endeavoured to
find some other Motive for the Aversion she now
expressed for staying at Home, or going to any
of those Places where they had been accustomed D to D1v 18
to visit together; but she either knew not how
to dissemble, or took so little Pains to do it, that
he was, in spite of himself, convinced all that
Affection she so lately had professed, and given
him Testimonies of, was now no more. — He
examined all his Actions, and could find nothing
in any of them that could give occasion for so
sad a Reverse. — He complained to her one Day,
in the tenderest Terms, of the small Portion she
had of late allowed him of her Conversation: —
Entreated, that if by any Inadvertency he had
offended her, she would acquaint him with his
Fault, which he assured her he would take care
never to repeat. — Asked if there was any thing
in her Settlement or Jointure she could wish to
have altered, and assured her she need but let
him know her Commands to be instantly
obeyed,

To all this she replied with the most stabbing
Indifference. — That she knew not what he meant.
— That as she had accused him with nothing, he
had no Reason to think she was dissatisfied. —
But that People could not be always in the same
Humour, and desired he would not give himself
nor her the Trouble of making any farther Interrogatories.

He must have been as insensible, as he is
known to be the contrary, had such a Behaviour
not opened his Eyes; he no longer doubted of
his Fate, and resolving, if possible, to find out
the Author of it, he caused her Chair to be watched D2r 19
watched wherever she went, and took such effectual
Methods, as soon informed him of the Truth.

In his first Emotions of his Rage he was for
sending a Challenge to this Destroyer of his
Happiness; but in his cooler Moments he rejected
that Design as too injurious to the Reputation
of Martesia, who was still dear to him,
and whom he flattered himself with being able
one Day to reclaim.

It is certain he put in Practice every tender
Stratagem that Love and Wit could furnish him
with for that Purpose; but she appearing so far
from being moved at any thing he either said or
did, that, on the contrary, her Behaviour was
every Day more cold; he at last began to expostulate
with her, gave some Hints that her late
Conduct was not unknown to him, and that tho’
he was willing to forgive what was past, yet as a
Husband, it was not consistent with his Character
to bear any future Insults of that nature. This
put her beyond all Patience. — She reproached
him in the bitterest Terms for daring to harbour
the least Suspicion of her Virtue, and censuring
her innocent Amusements as Crimes; and perhaps
was glad of this Opportunity of testifying
her Remorse for having ever listened to his Vows,
and cursing before his Face the Hour that joined
their Hands.

They now lived so ill a Life together, that
not having sufficient Proofs for a Divorce, he D2 parted D2v 20
parted Beds, and tho’ they continued in one
House, behaved to each other as Strangers:
never eat at the same Table but when Company
was there, and then only to avoid the Questions
that would naturally have been asked had it been
otherwise; neither of them being desirous the
World should know any thing of their Disagreement.

But while they continued to treat each other
in a manner so little conformable to their first
Hopes, or their Vows pledged at the Holy
Altar, Martesia became pregnant: This gave
the first Alarm to that Indolence of Nature she
hitherto had testified; her Husband would now
have it in his Power to sue out a Divorce; and
tho’ she would have rejoiced to have been separated
from him on any other Terms, yet she
could not support the Thoughts of being totally
deprived of all Reputation in the World. —
She was not ignorant of the Censures she incurr’d,
but had Pride and Spirit enough to
enable her to despise whatever was said of her,
while it was not backed by Proof; but the
glaring one she was now about to give struck
Shame and Confusion to her Soul. — She left no
Means untried to procure an Abortion; but failing
in that, she had no other Resource than to
that Friend who was the sole Confidante of her
unhappy Passion, who comforted her as well as
she could, and assured her, that when the Hour
approached she need have no more to do than
to come directly to her House, where every thing D3r 21
thing should be prepared for the Reception of a
Woman in her Condition.

To conceal the Alteration in her Shape, she
pretended Indisposition, saw little Company,
and wore only loose Gowns. — At length the so
much dreaded Moment came upon her at the
dead of Night; and in the midst of all that
Rack of Nature, made yet more horrible by
the Agonies of her Mind, she rose, rung for
her Woman, and telling her she had a frightful
Dream concerning that Lady, whom she knew
she had the greatest Value for of any Person
upon Earth, ordered her to get a Chair, for she
could not be easy unless she went and saw her
herself. The Woman was strangely surprized,
but her Lady was always absolute in her Commands.
— A Chair was brought, and without
any other Company or Attendance than her own
distracted Thoughts, she was conveyed to the
only Asylum where she thought her Shame
might find a Shelter.

A Midwife being prepared before, she was
safely delivered of a Daughter, who expired almost
as soon as born; and to prevent as much as
possible all Suspicion of the Truth, she made
herself be carried Home the next Morning,
where she went to Bed, and lay several Days under
Pretence of having sprained her Ancle.

But not all the Precautions she had taken
were effectual enough to prevent some People from D3v 22
from guessing and whispering what had happened.
— Those whose Nearness in Blood gave
them a Privilege of speaking their Minds,
spared not to tell her all that was said of her;
and those who dared not take that Liberty,
shewed by their distant Looks and reserved Behaviour,
whenever she came in Presence, how
little they approved her Conduct. — She was too
discerning not to see into their Thoughts, nor
was her innate Pride of any Service to keep up
her Spirits on this Occasion. — To add to her
Discontents, Clitander grew every Day more
cool in his Respects, and she soon after learned
he was on the Point of Marriage with one far
inferior to herself in every Charm both of Mind
and Person. — In short, finding herself deserted
by her Relations, and the greatest Part of her
Acquaintance, without Love, without Respect,
and reduced to the Pity of those, who, perhaps,
had nothing but a greater Share of Circumspection
to boast of, she took a Resolution to quit
England for ever, and having settled her Affairs
with her Husband, who by this Time had entered
into other Amusements, and, it is probable,
was very well satisfied to be eased of the Constraint
her Presence gave him, readily agreed to
remit her the Sum agreed between them, to be
paid yearly to whatever Part of the World she
chose to reside in, she then took leave of a Country
of which she had been the Idol, and which
now seemed to her as too unjust in not being
blind to what she desired should be concealed.

Behold D4r 23

Behold her now in a voluntary Banishment
from Friends and Country, and roaming round
the World in fruitless Search of that Tranquillity
she could not have failed enjoying at Home in
the Bosom of a Consort equally beloved as loving.
— Unhappy charming Lady, born and endued
with every Quality to attract universal Love and
Admiration, yet by one inadvertent Step undone
and lost to every thing the World holds dear,
and only more conspicuously wretched by having
been conspicuously amiable.

But methinks it would be hard to charge
the Blame of indiscreet Marriages on the young
Ladies themselves: — Parents are sometimes, by
an over Caution, guilty of forcing them into
Things, which otherwise would be far distant
from their Thoughts. I am very certain it is
not because the Italian, Spanish, or Portuguese
Women are so much warmer in their Constitutions
than those of other Nations, but because
they are so cruelly debarred from all Conversation
with the Men, that makes them so readily accept
the first Offer that presents itself. — Where
Opportunities are scarce, they are glad to speak
their Minds at once, and fear to deny lest it
should not be in their Power afterward to grant.
Even in Turkey, where our Travellers boast of
having had such Success among the Women, I
have known several that were married to English
Gentlemen, and permitted to live after the
Custom of our Country, who have made very
excellent Wives. — In France, the People are, questionless, D4v 24
questionless, the gayest and most alert in the
World, and allow the greatest Liberties to their
Women; yet to hear of a clandestine Marriage
among them is a kind of Prodigy, and tho’ no
Place affords Scenes of Gallantry equal to it in
any Degree of Proportion, yet I believe there is
none where fewer false Steps are made, or Husbands
have less Reason to complain of the want
of Chastity in their Wives. Nature in all Ages
is abhorrent of Restraint, but in Youth especially,
as more headstrong and impetuous, it will
hazard every thing to break through Laws it had
no Hand in making. It therefore betrays a
want of Policy, as well as an unjust Austerity,
to seclude a young Lady, and shut her up from
all Intercourse with the Men, for fear she should
find one among them who might happen to
please her too well. — Chance may in a Moment
destroy all that the utmost Care can do; and I
say a Woman is in far less Danger of losing
her Heart, when every Day surrounded with a
Variety of gay Objects, than when by some Accident
she falls into the Conversation of a single
one. — A Girl, who is continually hearing fine
Things said to her, regards them but as Words
of course; they may be flattering to her Vanity
for the present, but will leave no Impression behind
them on their Mind: But she, who is a
Stranger to the gallant Manner with which polite
Persons treat our Sex, greedily swallows the first
civil thing said to her, takes what perhaps is
meant as a mere Compliment for a Declaration
of Love, and replies to it in Terms which either expose E1r 25
expose her to the Designs of him who speaks,
if he happens to have any in reality, or if he
has not, to his Ridicule in all Company he comes
into.

For this Reason the Country-bred Ladies,
who are never suffered to come to Town for fear
their Faces should be spoiled by the Small-Pox,
or their Reputations ruined by the Beaux, become
an easier Prey to the Artifices of Mankind,
than those who have had an Education more at
large: As they rarely stir beyond their Father’s
Pales, except to Church, the Parson, if he be a
forward Man, and has Courage to throw a Love
Song, or Copy of Verses to Miss over the Wall,
or slip it into her Hand in a Visit he pays the
Family, has a rare Opportunity of making his
Fortune; and it is well when it happens no
worse; many a ’Squire’s Daughter has clambered
over Hedge and Stile, to give a rampant Jump
into the Arms of a young jolly Haymaker or
Ploughman.

Our London Ladies are indeed very rarely laid
under such Restrictions; but whenever it happens
to be the Case, as Nature is the same in all,
the Consequence will be so too. — Would Miss
Eagaretta have ever condescended to marry the
greasy Footman that run before her Chair, had
he not been the only Man her over-careful Father
permitted her to speak to? — Or would Armonia
have found any Charms in a Mousetrap or LeathernE thern E1v 26
Apron, had she been indulged the Conversation
of a White Staff?

Seomanthe, to her Misfortune, was
brought up under the Tuition of her Aunt Negratia,
a Woman extremely sour by Nature,
but rendered yet more so by Age and Infirmity:
Past all the Joys of Life herself, she looked with a
malicious Eye on every one who partook of
them; censured the most innocent Diversions in
the severest manner, and the least Complaisance
between Persons of different Sexes was, with
her, scandalous to the last Degree. — Her Character
was so well known, that none but Prudes,
whose Deformity was an Antidote to Desire, —
worn-out superannuated Rakes, who had out-lived
all Sense of Pleasure, — and canting Zealots, whose
Bread depended on their Hypocrisy, frequented
her House: — To this sort of Company was the
young, beautiful, and naturally gay Seomanthe
condemned. — She heard nothing but railing
against that way of Life she knew was enjoyed
by others of equal Rank and Fortune with herself,
and which she had too much good Sense to
look on as criminal: — She thought People might
be perfectly innocent, yet indulge themselves in
sometimes going to a Play or Opera; nor could
be brought to believe the Court such a Bugbear
as she was told it was: — A laced Coat and a
Tupee Wig had double Charms for her, as they
were every Day so much preached against, and
she never saw a Coach pass by wherein were Gentlemen E2r 27
Gentlemen and Ladies, but she wished to be
among them, or a well-dress’d Beau, that she
did not languish to be acquainted with.

At length her Desires were fulfilled: Close
as she was kept, the Report that Negratia had
a young Lady in the House, who was Mistress
of a large Fortune on the Day of Marriage,
reached the Ears of one of those Harpies who
purchase to themselves a wretched Sustenance,
by decoying the Unwary into everlasting Ruin.
— This Creature, who had been employed by
one so far a Gentleman as to be bred to no Business,
and whose whole Estate was laid out on his
Back, in hopes of appearing charming in the
Eyes of some money’d Woman, too truly guess’d
she had found in Seomanthe what she sought. —
She came to the House under the Pretence of
offering some Lace, Holland, and fine Tea, extraordinary
cheap: Negratia being a good Housewife,
and a great Lover of Bargains, readily admitted
her; and while she was examining some
of the Goods at a Window some Distance off,
the artful Woman put a Letter into Seomanthe’s
Hand, telling her it came from the finest Gentleman
in the World, who she was sure would die if
she did not favour him with an Answer. The
young Lady took it, blushed, and put it in her
Bosom, but had not Time to make any Reply to
the Woman, Negratia that Instant coming toward
them. As nobody understood her Business better,
she managed it so that she was ordered to
come again the next Day, when she said she E2 should E2v 28
should have greater Variety to shew their Ladyships.
While she was packing up her Bundles,
she winked on Seomanthe, and at the same time
gave her the most beseeching Look; the Meaning
of which, young and unexperienced as she
was, the destined Victim but too well comprehended,
and was, perhaps, no less impatient for
the Success of an Adventure, the Beginning of
which afforded her an infinite Satisfaction.

She ran immediately to her Chamber, shut
herself in, and broke open her Billet, which she
found stuffed with Flames, Darts, Wounds,
Love, and Death: — The highest Encomiums
on her Beauty, and the most vehement Imprecations
of not outliving his Hope of obtaining her
Favour. — Expressions which would have excited
only the Laughter of a Woman who knew the
World, but drew Tears into the Eyes of the
innocent Seomanthe. — She imagined he had seen
her either at Church, or looking out of the
Window, for she was permitted to shew herself
in no other Place; and doubted not but all he
had wrote to her of his Love and Despair, was
no less true than what she heard delivered from
the Pulpit. She looked on herself as too much
obliged by the Passion he had for her, not to
write an Answer full of Complaisance, and very
dexterously gave it to the Woman on her coming
the next Day.

On the ensuing Sunday she saw a strange
Gentleman in the next Pew to her, and by the Glances E3r 29
Glances he stole at her every Time he could do
it without being taken Notice of, she fancied
him the Person who had declared himself her
Lover, and was convinced her Conjecture had
not deceiv’d her, when being kneel’d down at
her Devotions, he found Means, while every one
had their Fans before their Faces, to drop a Letter
on the Bench she lean’d upon; she was not so
much taken up with the Business she was employed
about as not to see it immediately, and
throwing her Handkerchief over it, clap’d it
into her Pocket. — The Looks that past between
them afterwards, during the Time of Divine Service,
confirm’d her in the Opinion, that he was
no less charm’d with her than he said he was;
and him, that the Sight of him had not destroy’d
the Impression his Letter by the old Woman
had made on her.

Both thought they had Reason to be highly
satisfy’d with this Interview, but poor Seomanthe
was up to the Head and Ears in Love. — The
Person of the Man was agreeable enough, and,
compared to those Negratia had suffer’d her to
converse with, angelick. — The Prepossession she
had for him, at least, render’d him so in her Eyes,
and she thought every Moment an Age ’till she
got home to read this second Billet; the Contents
of which were of the same Nature with the
former, only a Postscript added, entreating she
would contrive some Means to let him entertain
her with his Passion by Word of Mouth. — He men- E3v 30
mention’d the Woman who sold the Things,
and by whose Means he had first made a Discovery
of it, and gave the Directions where she
lived, beg’d a Meeting there, if possible; at
least an Answer, whether he might be so happy
or not, which he told her he would wait for
himself early the next Morning under her Window,
if she would be so good to throw it out.

She sigh’d at reading it, thought her Fate
very hard that it was not in her Power to comply
with the first Part of his Request, but hesitated
not in the least if she ought to grant the
other. — She snatch’d the first Opportunity she
could lay hold on to prepare a Letter, in which
she let him know how impossible it was for her
to come out, but express’d a Regret for not being
able to do so, as shew’d it would be no
difficult Matter to prevail on her to run the
greatest Lengths.

By the Help of his old Adviser, he carried
on a Correspondence with her, which ended in her
consenting to quit Negratia for ever, and put
herself under his Protection: In fine, she pack’d
up all her Cloaths and Jewels, threw the former
from the Window to the Woman, who stood
ready to receive them on an appointed Night,
and having put the other into her Pocket, exchang’d
one Scene of Hypocrisy for another,
and flew from a Life irksome for the present,
to enter into one of lasting Misery. Early E4r 31
Early in the Morning they were married,
and ’tis possible pass’d some Days in the usual
Transports of a Bridal State; but when their
Place of Abode was discover’d by the Friends
and Kindred of Seomanthe, who, distracted at
her Elopement, had search’d the whole Town,
in how wretched a Condition was she found! —
The Villain had drawn her whole Fortune out
of the Bank, and robb’d her of all her Jewels,
and the best of her Apparel, had shipp’d every
thing off, and was himself embark’d she knew
not to what Place. — The People of the House
where they lodg’d, perceiving him whom they
expected to have been their Paymaster gone,
seiz’d on the few Trifles he had left behind, as
Satisfaction for their Rent, and were going to
turn the unfortunate Seomanthe out of Doors.

Not the Sight of her Distress, nor the Lamentations
she made, which were pitiful enough to
have soften’d the most rugged Hearts, had any Effect
on that of Negratia, who thought no Punishment
too severe for a Person who had deceiv’d
her Caution; but some others were of a more
compassionate Disposition, they took her home
with them, and comforted her as well as they
were able. — She still lives with them a Dependant
on their Courtesy, which she is oblig’d
to purchase the Continuance of by rendering
herself subservient to all their Humours. — No
News is yet arriv’d what Course her wicked
Husband took; but it is suppos’d he is retired
either to France or Holland, being almost as much E4v 32
much in Debt here, as all he wrong’d Seomanthe
of would discharge; so that there is little Probability
of his ever returning, or if he did,
that it would be at all to the Satisfaction of his
unhappy Wife.

I was going on to recite some other Instances
of the Mischiefs, which, for the most part,
are the Consequence of laying young People
under too great a Restraint, when Mira came
in, and seeing what I was about, took the Pen
out of my Hand, and told me I had already said
enough; if I proceeded to expatiate any farther
on that Head, I should be in Danger of being
understood to countenance an Extreme on the
other Side, which was much more frequently
fatal to our Sex.

I yielded to her superior Judgment, and
needed but few Arguments to be convinced, that
if unbridled Youth were indulg’d in all the Liberties
it would take, we should scarce see any
thing but unhappy Objects before Maturity
arrived.

The great Encouragement these later Times
afford to Luxury of every kind, can never be
too much guarded against by those who are
charged with the first forming of the Mind.
Nature is in itself abhorrent of Vice; but the
ingenious Contrivers of some of our modish
Entertainments have found such ways to take
off the Deformity, that there requires a more strong F1r 33
strong Discernment than Youth will ordinarily
admit of, to distinguish it from Innocence. —
The Glitter with which it is adorn’d strikes the
Eye at a Distance, and you perceive not the
Serpent within, ’till, by too near an Approach,
you are in Danger of being infected with its
Venom. It was not in Diversions, such as our
modern Masquerades in Winter, and Ridottoes
al Fresco in Summer, that our Ancestors pass’d
their Evenings; both which, agreeable as they
may seem for the present to the Senses, have
often given Source to the most bitter Agonies
in the reflecting Mind. — They appear to me as
a daring Attempt to invert the very Order of
Nature, especially the former, which begins at
those Hours when Recreations ought to cease,
and encroaches on the Time we should be preparing
for that Repose the Mind and Body stand
in need of. — Those who escape the best, are sure
to lose one Day from Life after every Masquerade;
but others more delicate in their Constitution
contract Colds, and various Disorders,
which hang upon them a long while, and sometimes
are never got rid of. — Yet how severely
treated would our young Gentlemen and Ladies
think themselves, were they to be deprived of
this elegant Entertainment, as they term it! —
“What can be more innocent,” (say they) “than to
see such a Number of People together, all dress’d
in different Habits, some talking, some dancing,
some gaming, and the Musick all the Time sweetly
playing.――Then the Repartees among us so
whet the Wit!――”

F It F1v 34

It is certain, indeed, that some great Families,
who continue the whole Winter in the
Country, frequently have what they call a Masquerade
at their Houses, to which all the neighbouring
Gentry are invited, and nothing can be
more agreeable than those kind of Entertainments.
— Where a select Company are disguised so as
not to be known for a Time to each other, a
Round of Wit is perpetually played off, and
affords Matter, by the pleasant Mistakes sometimes
made, for Conversation afterwards; for
where every one is obliged to pluck off his Mask,
and own himself for what he is, as soon as the
Ball is over, nothing will be said or done improper
or indecent: But here it is quite otherwise;
in these mercenary Entertainments, the most
abandon’d Rake, or low-bred Fellow, who has
wherewithal to purchase a Ticket, may take the
Liberty of uttering the grossest Things in the
chastest Ear, and safe in his Disguise go off without
incurring either the Shame or Punishment
his Behaviour deserves. But, besides being subjected
to the Insults of every pert Coxcomb, who
imagines himself most witty when he is most
shocking to Modesty, I wonder Ladies can reflect
what Creatures of their own Sex they vouchsafe
to blend with in these promiscuous Assemblies,
without blushing to Death.

A witty Gentleman of my Acquaintance,
but somewhat wild, told me, he never was so
much diverted in his Life as one Night, when he
saw the greatest Prude in the Nation, after having been F2r 35
been accosted with some very odd Expressions
by one, who, doubtless, mistook her for another,
run, as if to shield herself from his Importunities,
to a certain Fille de Joy, to whom he
had given a Ticket, and cry out, “O, Madam,
did you hear the filthy Creature”?

I could not forbear acknowledging the
Ridicule this Lady incurred, was a just Punishment
for her appearing in a Place so little conformable
to the Austerity she professed in other
Things, but at the same time took this Opportunity
of telling him, that I thought Women
of Honour had little Obligations to him, or to
any of those Gentlemen, who by making Presents
of Tickets to such loose Creatures, introduced
them into Company they otherwise would
never have the Assurance to approach. — I added,
that in my Opinion, a greater Affront could not
be put upon the Sex; and that it was also
strangely impolitick to bring their Mistresses
into an Assembly, where Chance might possibly
engage them in Conversation with their own
Wives or Sisters.

To these last Words he answered with a kind
of malicious Smile, “No, Madam, we never give
Masquerade Tickets to them.” Intimating, that it
was not with the Approbation of the Men, that
the Ladies of their own Family should frequent
such Places; and therefore, if they happened
to be affronted there, they must condemn themselves.

F2 This F2v 36

This put me in Mind of an Acquaintance
of mine, who is accounted a very good Husband,
and in effect is so, tho’ he took somewhat an
extraordinary Method to cure his Wife of a too
great Passion she had expressed, on their first
Marriage, for going to these nocturnal Revels.
Notice was no sooner given of a Masquerade,
than her Eyes sparkled with Joy, the Habit-
Maker was immediately sent for, and nothing
was either talked or thought on, but the Dress
she should wear on the approaching happy
Night. Not but he was convinced her Intentions
were perfectly innocent, as she never desired
to go without him, and even testified an
Eagerness that he would participate of a Pleasure
which had so many Charms for herself; but he
was a Man who knew the Town, and the Dangers
to which many Women had been exposed
in these Assemblies; besides, the Expence was
what he could by no means relish, and fearing to
draw on himself the Character of a churlish, or a
jealous Husband, if he gave either of these Reasons
for restraining her, he bethought himself of
a Stratagem, which should render her avoiding
going for the future entirely her own Act and
Deed.

He caused, unknown to her, one of his intimate
Friends to put on a Habit so exactly the
same with what he wore himself, that being of a
pretty equal Stature, they could not be distinguished
from each other when the Masks were on.
This Gentleman, in the midst of a Dance, slip’d into F3r 37
into the Husband’s Place, who immediately
withdrew, and absconded till the Ball was over.
The poor Lady, little suspecting the Deception,
kept close to her supposed Spouse the whole
Time, and when the Company broke up, was
put by him into a Hackney Coach, which had
Orders to drive to a Tavern in Pall-Mall. She
was a little surprized at finding where she was;
but thinking it a Whim of him, whom it was
her Duty to comply with, suffered herself to be
conducted into a Room, where he, plucking off
his Mask, the Sight of his Face, and his desiring
she would do the same, with some Expressions
not very becoming the Person she had taken him
for, so alarmed and terrified her, that she gave a
great Shriek. — The Husband, who had followed
them in another Coach, came in that Moment,
and found her ringing the Bell, calling for the
People of the House, and for a Chair, that she
might be carried Home, the Gentleman struggling
with her, and endeavouring all he could to
prevail on her to unmask. — He so well acted his
Part, that the Person who employed him was
highly diverted, and had suffered the Farce to
go on some time longer, had not the excessive
Fright his Wife was in obliged him to put an
End to it, which he did, by plucking off his
Vizard, and taking her in his Arms, conjured her
to compose herself: “This Accident,” said he, “might
have proved of ill Consequence indeed, had it
not happened with my particular Friend: — I saw,
and followed you with a Resolution to revenge
the Affront I imagined offered to me; but I am now F3v 38
now convinced it was all a Mistake on his Side,
as well as your’s. — See here,” continued he, taking
off his Wife’s Mask, “who it is you have
gallanted, and were about to be so free with.”

The Gentleman affected to start, and be very
much amazed and ashamed of what he had done,
begg’d his Friend’s Pardon, and the Lady’s,
who he said he had accosted, as thinking her a
fine Woman, and meeting with no manner of
Repulse, but on the contrary, that she was very
desirous of keeping as near him as possible, and
shunning all other Conversation, he had all the
Reason in the World to flatter himself, she
would be no less satisfied with his Company in
another Place. — “But,” said he, “I now perceive it
was the Likeness of Habits deceived her, and
that while I imagined I was gaining a Mistress,
she doubted not but she was following a Husband.”

This adventure occasioned a good deal of
Merriment among them, but it had all the Effect
my Friend wished it should have on his Wife. —
The imagin’d Danger she had been in, and the
real Terror it had given her, dwelt so much upon
her Mind, that she resolved never more to set her
Foot within a Place where Virtue and Reputation
were liable to such Hazards. — He had the
Discretion, however, to maintain inviolably the
Secret of the Trick he had put upon her, which
had it been so much as guessed at by her, might,
perhaps, have occasioned a Resentment more to the F4r 39
the Prejudice of his Peace, than the Continuance
of that immoderate Love of an Amusement he
did not approve could have been.

But what this Gentleman contrived the
Appearance of, has not been without its Parallel
in reality. — Two noble Families owe the Ruin
of their Peace, as well as an Enmity with each
other, which there is little Likelihood will easily
cease, to a fatal Mistake, occasioned by the unfortunate
Similitude of Habits at one of these
Masquerades.

Alcales and Palmyra were married
young, the Match was made by the Kindred on
both Sides, and their Hearts not consulted in the
Affair: — They lived together, notwithstanding,
in very good Harmony, neither of them having
any Attachment elsewhere; and tho’ no more
than a calm Indifference seemed to subsist between
them, yet either through Chance or Caution,
nothing happened for a long Time that could
give the least Umbrage to the one, or the other.
— His favourite Amusements were reading,
walking, and the Play-houses. — Her’s were giving
and receiving Visits, and going to Opera’s and
Masquerades. — He never examined into what
Company she went, nor did she ever give herself
the Trouble to enquire in what manner he passed
his Time. — She was infinitely gay and free in
Conversation, but behaved so equally to all the
Men of her Acquaintance, that Malice had found
no room to censure her, as guilty of a particular Regard F4v 40
Regard for any one. — The Conduct of Alcales
was much the same; he did Justice to the Charms
of every Lady, but seemed affected by none; so
that Jealousy was a Passion which this happy insensible
Pair as yet had never known. With how
much Tranquillity might Life have glided on,
till both had dropp’d into Eternity, and left the
fairest Reputation on their Tomb, had they continued
as they were a few Years longer? But their
ill Fate ordained it otherwise, and all the Unity
between them was nearest to a Dissolution when
most it seemed established and confirmed.

Palmyra, as she never missed a Masquerade,
was there one Night, when Alcales, after
she was gone, was also dragg’d thither by some
Friends, who would not be denied. — Tho’ he
had not the least Relish for that Diversion, yet
being there, he thought he should be laugh’d at
not to behave in the same Fashion he saw others
did, and presently singled out a Lady, who he
found had some Wit and Address, for his Partner.
— A Lady, who had accompanied Palmyra, and
happened to stand near, discovered him by his
Voice, which he did not attempt to conceal. She
ran immediately with the News to his Wife, who
at first did not believe it; but the other made so
many Protestations, that he was not only there,
but was also so deeply engaged with his Partner,
that she was sure there was an Intrigue between
them, that Palmyra, at last, resolved to be convinced,
and went to that Part of the Room where
her officious Informer had told her he was, and where G1r 41
where she found him, still entertaining the Lady.
— A Passion she had never before experienced,
now took Possession of her Heart. — She knew
she was not deceived, she heard the Voice of her
Husband distinctly, and to find him in a Place
he had always pretended an Aversion to, made
her look upon him as a Dissembler, and that he
but feigned a Dislike, in order to come with the
greater Privacy, and carry on his Amours. — In
fine, she had now the most disadvantagious Ideas
of him, that a Wife, imagining herself not only
injured, but imposed upon, could entertain. —
She had, sometimes, an Inclination to speak to
him, and let him see he was detected, but her
ill Genius prevented her from doing any thing
that might have cleared up this Affair, and represented
to her, that to shew her Resentment in
that publick Place, would draw on her the Ridicule
of her Acquaintance, and that it would be
more prudent to observe his Behaviour during the
Ball, and afterwards follow him, and in case he
went not Home, pursue him to the very Place of
his Rendezvous.

Accordingly she kept her Eye upon
him wherever he turned, as much as it was possible
for her to do, amidst the Throng which happened
to be there that Night, and at length saw
him, as she thought, quit the Room before the
Assembly broke up. — As she had before lost
Sight of the Lady he had been talking to, she
doubted not but that there was an Assignation
between them, and finding he step’d into a G Chair, G1v 42
Chair, she took another, and followed till she
found he entered into a House near Covent-Garden.
— She considered but a Moment what she
should do before she ordered the Chairman to
knock at the Door, which being opened, she desired
the Servant to shew her to the Gentleman
who was just come in. The Fellow, not doubting
but his Master expected this fair Visitor,
conducted her up Stairs, where she waited not
long before a very handsome Gentleman, habited
exactly in the same manner as she had seen her
Husband, but now without a Mask, came to her,
and in the most complaisant Terms begged to
know her Commands.

Vexed and confused without Measure at the
Disappointment, she replied abruptly, that she
had mistaken him for another, and turned hastily
away, in order to go down Stairs, but he seized
her by the Garment, and told her, he should ill
deserve the Bounty Fortune had thrown in his
Way, if he suffered her to depart without letting
her know, she could come in Search of no Man
who would set a greater Value on any Condescension
she should be pleased to grant him.

In spite of the ill Humour she was in, there
was somewhat in the Person and Address of this
Stranger that pleased her, and it just then entring
into her Head, that there was a Possibility he
might have changed Habits with Alcales, as People
sometimes do at a Masquerade, either out of
a Frolick, or the better to carry on an Intrigue, she G2r 43
she asked him, if he had worn that Habit the
whole Evening; to which he answering in the
Affirmative, she grew more and more perplexed,
but was certain she had not been deceived in the
Voice she had heard, which was that of her Husband,
and very different from his who now spoke
to her. — She then asked farther, if he had not
taken Notice of a Gentleman in the same Habit
with himself? To which he said, that he had
observed such a one, and that the Person she
meant was very much taken up with a fair Lady;
“but,” added he, with a Smile, “that Lady was not
she, who now does him the Honour to appear so
much concerned about him.”

These Words pique’d Palmyra to the Soul,
and flattering herself that she might learn something
farther, by entering into a Conversation
with him, suffered herself to be prevailed on to
sit down, and having told him she was the Wife
of the Person she enquired for, plucked off her
Mask, in order to shew, that her Face was not
such as might justify the Slight he had put upon
her, and conjured him not to conceal any thing
he knew of the Perfidy of her Husband.

This Gentleman, whom I shall call Lysimon,
assured her, with a great deal of Truth, that the
Person who happened to be in the same Dress
with himself, and which made him take the
greater Notice of him, was utterly unknown to
him; but so exaggerated the Compliments he had
heard him make to the Lady, that Palmyra was G2 quite G2v 44
quite lost in Spite and jealous Rage, which he
perceiving, artfully blended his Praises of her
Beauty, with his Exclamations on the Ingratitude
of a Husband, who having such a Wife, could
have Eyes for any other Charms, ’till Vanity on
the one Side, and Revenge on the other, rendered
her in a fit Disposition to listen to the Pleas
of a new Flame; which he so successfully pursued,
that before Morning he not only gained
the entire Possession of her Person, but of a
Heart, which, ’till now, had been insensible either
of the Pains or Joys of Love.

It was some Hours past Day-break when she
came Home; Alcales had not got rid of the
Company, who had carried him Abroad, ’till
pretty near the same Time, so was return’d but
just before her, and not yet in Bed. He seem’d
not, however, the least surpriz’d at her staying
so much beyond the Time she was accustom’d
to come from the Masquerade, nor ask’d any
Questions concerning it; and she was too much
engross’d by the Thoughts of Lysimon, to take
any Notice that she knew he had been there, and
all, perhaps, had passed over, if the Sister of
Alcales, whose House was directly opposite to
that where Lysimon lodg’d, had not unluckily
seen her at his Window, adjusting her Dress,
before she took her Leave. This Lady had secretly
a Passion for him, and had taken all Opportunities
to throw herself in his Way, in hope
of engaging him; but he having either not understood,
or neglected the Advances she made, the G3r 45
the Sight of Palmyra made her not doubt, but
it was for her sake he had appear’d so stupid
and ungrateful. — Fired with all the Rage of
Jealousy, Revenge, and Disappointment, she
came the next Day to the House of Alcales, and,
before his Face, flew on Palmyra, as a Woman
that had brought Dishonour on their Family, and
was unworthy of so good a Husband; — repeated
all she knew of her having been with Lysimon,
and said she would bring her Woman and a
Man-Servant, whom she had call’d to see her
at his Window, to be Witness to the Truth of
what she said. — So home a Charge, and given by
his Sister, rous’d Alcales from that Indolence of
Temper he had hitherto behav’d with. — His
Cheeks glow’d, but his Heart was yet more
inflam’d. — Palmyra, at first, deny’d the Accusation,
but finding the Proofs were too plain
against her, she turned the whole Blame of this
cruel Censure on her Husband. — Confess’d, that
Jealousy and Grief at seeing his Engagement at
the Masquerade, had made her follow a Person
whom she mistook for him, but that as to having
any Acquaintance with that Gentleman, on
whose Score she was reproach’d, she utterly denied
it, or even that she knew his Name.

Alcales listen’d to all she said, without
offering to give her the least Interruption, but
perceiving she had done, reply’d, with a Smile
that had something in it which denoted a mingled
Malice and Disdain, — “’Tis wondrous strange,
Madam, since your excessive Love for me, and the Terror G3v 46
Terror you were in of a Rival’s supplanting you
in my Affections, had carry’d you such Lengths,
how you could immediately, and without being
convinc’d your Suspicions were groundless, assume
such a Composedness in your Behaviour;
you must, certainly, have a more than ordinary
Command over your Passions, never so much as
to mention what gave you so much Pain.”

Palmyra had little to alledge against so
critical an Observation, but what she wanted in
Argument, she made up with Railing, endeavouring,
as is common in such Cases, to conceal
her own Faults by exaggerating those of her
Husband. — At last the Quarrel arrived to such a
Height, that she flew to her Chamber, pack’d up
her Jewels, and went to her Brother’s House,
where she complain’d loudly of the Injustice she
had receiv’d, and made bitter Imprecations never
to return to Alcales again.

In the mean time, he was fully convinc’d
of the Injury that had been done him, and, in the
Heat of his Resentment, sent a Challenge to
Lysimon, who was too brave not to answer it. —
They fought, and were both of them dangerously
wounded. — The whole Time that Alcales was
confin’d to his Bed, neither Palmyra, nor any of
her Friends, once sent to enquire after his
Health; this Want of even common Complaisance,
neither himself, nor Relations, have ever
forgiven, especially as they heard Lysimon was
treated by them with more Respect. — Nothing could G4r 47
could be more inveterate than the Hatred which
has from that Time been between the two Families.
Palmyra kept her Word, and never saw
her Husband after; the only thing, perhaps, she
could have oblig’d him in. — Assur’d as he was
of her Infidelity, Proofs were wanting for a Divorce;
therefore it was agreed, by Lawyers appointed
by each Party, that she should have the
Interest of her Fortune to live upon, in what
Manner was most agreeable to her. They parted
with the same Indifference, tho’ with less
Tranquillity, than they met. — He retired to his
Country Seat, where he still drags on a solitary,
gloomy Life. — She went to France, where her
beloved Lysimon was gone, soon after the Recovery
of his Wounds; but whether she continues
to find in his Conversation sufficient to attone
for her Loss of Innocence and Reputation,
is very much to be question’d.

But of all who ever suffer’d by their Curiosity
or Attachment to this dangerous Diversion,
the Case of the innocent Erminia was
most truly pityable.

This young Lady, and her Brother, were the
only Issue of a very happy Marriage, and both
shar’d equally the Tenderness of their indulgent
Parents. — They were educated in the strictest
Rudiments of Piety and Virtue, and had something
so innately good in their Dispositions, as
made the Practice of those Duties, which to
others seem most severe, to them a Pleasure. — The G4v 48
The Family lived in the Country, and came not
to London but once in two or three Years, and
then stay’d but a short Time, ’till the young
Gentleman having finish’d his Studies at Cambridge,
it was thought proper he should see more
of the World, than he could possibly do in that
retir’d Part. But, fearing he should fall into the
Vices of the Age, in case he were left too much
to himself, they resolv’d on removing to Town,
in order to have him still under their own
Eye.

Accordingly a House was taken in a certain
Square, and the whole Family came up, and,
not to seem particular, were oblig’d to live after
the Manner People do in Town: Erminia was
not now above Sixteen, and (as all new Faces
are, if tolerably handsome,) was extremely taken
Notice of, yet was not her young Heart puff’d
up with the least Pride or Vanity; and tho’ she
had all that Chearfulness which is the inseparable
Companion of Innocence and Good-nature, yet
did it never transport her so far as to take, or
permit, any of those Liberties, which she saw
some of her new Acquaintance make no Scruple
of.

Soon after their Arrival Winter came on,
and wherever either she or her Brother went,
nothing was talk’d on but the Masquerade;
neither of them had ever seen one, and the
Eagerness they observed in others, excited a Curiosity
in them. — Their Parents would not oppose the H1r 49
the Inclination they express’d, and consented they
should go together, but gave their Son a strict
Charge to be watchful over his Sister, and never
to quit Sight of her ’till he brought her home
to them again. — Tho’ this was an Entertainment
unknown in England in their gay Time of Life,
and, consequently, they were Strangers to the
Methods practised at it, yet having heard somewhat
of the Dangers, they repeated over and
over the same Injunction to the young Gentleman,
who assured them, he would take the same
Care as if themselves were present.

Alas! he little knew how impracticable it
was to keep his Promise: They were no sooner
enter’d, than both were bewilder’d amidst the
promiscuous Assembly; — the strange Habits, —
the Hurry, — the Confusion quite distracted their
Attention. — They kept close to each other, indeed,
for some Time, but were soon separated
by a Crowd that came rushing between them,
some accosting the Brother, others the Sister. —
Those who talk’d to them easily found they were
Strangers to the Conversation of the Place, and
whispering it about, our young Country Gentry
serv’d as Butts for the Company to level all the
Arrows of their Wit against.

Erminia had lost her Brother for a considerable
Time, and was encompassed by Persons
of both Sexes, whose Mode of Speech was neither
pleasing to her, nor did she know how to
answer; at last, the Sight of a Blue Domine, H which H1v 50
which was the Habit he went in, revived her,
and she ran to the Person who wore it, and
catching fast hold of him, “Dear Brother,” (cry’d
she) “let us go home, I have been frighted to
Death by those noisy People yonder. — I wonder
what Pleasure any body can take in being here.”

The Person she accosted made no Reply;
but taking her under the Arm, conducted her
out as she had desired, and went with her into a
Hackney Coach. Little suspecting the Accident
that had befallen her, she attended not to what
Orders he gave the Coachman; and, glad to find
herself out of a Place which for her had so few
Charms, entertain’d her suppos’d Brother with a
Repetition of what had been said to her, ’till the
Coach stopp’d at the Door of a great House:
As it was not yet light, she distinguish’d it not
from their own, and innocently jump’d out,
and was within the Entry before she discover’d
her Mistake; but as soon as she did, “Bless me,”
(cry’d she) “where have you brought me, Brother?”
She followed him, however, up Stairs,
where he, pulling off his Vizard, discover’d a
Face she had never seen before.

Never was Surprize and Terror greater
than that which now seiz’d the Heart of this
unfortunate young Lady: — She wept, she
pray’d, she conjur’d him by every thing that is
called sacred or worthy of Veneration, to suffer
her to depart; but he was one, to whom, had she
been less beautiful, her Innocence was a sufficient Charm. H2r 51
Charm.— The more averse and shock’d she
seem’d at the rude Behaviour with which he immediately
began to treat her, the more were
his Desires inflam’d, and having her in his
Power, and in a House where all her Shrieks and
Cries were as unavailing as her Tears and Entreaties,
he satiated, by the most barbarous
Force, his base Inclinations, and for a Moment’s
Joy to himself, was the eternal Ruin of a poor
Creature, whose Ignorance of the World, and
of the Artifices of Mankind, alone had betray’d
him.

The cruel Conquest gain’d, he was at a
Loss how to dispose of his Prey; a thousand
times she begg’d he would compleat the Villany
he had begun, and kill the Wretch he had made;
but this was what neither his Safety, nor perhaps
his Principle, wicked as he was, would permit him to do. —
He easily found she was a Girl of
Condition, and doubted not but she had Friends
who would revenge the Injury he had done
her, could they, by any Means, discover the
Author; he therefore, after having in vain endeavour’d
to pacify her, and prevail on her to
comply with his Desires of holding a secret Correspondence
with him, compell’d her to let him
bind a Handkerchief over her Eyes, that she
might not be able to describe either the House
or Street where she had been abused; then put
her into a Hackney Coach, which he order’d to
drive into an obscure dirty Lane in the Strand,
near the Water Side, where he made her be set H2 down, H2v 52
down, and immediately drove away with all the
Speed the Horses could make.

She no sooner found herself at Liberty, than
she pluck’d the Bandage from her Eyes, — she
cast a disconsolate Look about, — she knew not
where she was; but the Sight of the Water at
some little Distance from her, tempted her more
than once, as she has since confess’d, to throw
herself into it. — The Precepts of Religion, however,
restrain’d her, and she wander’d backwards
and forwards for some Time, uncertain what to
do; at length she came to a more populous
Place, and seeing a Chair, made herself be carried
home, tho’ with what Agonies of Shame and
Grief is easier to imagine than describe.

The young Gentleman, her Brother, had all
this Time been in the utmost Distraction; he no
sooner miss’d, than he went in search of her
round and round the Room, and through all the
little Avenues that led to it, describ’d her Habit
to the Servants, and ask’d if they had seen such
a Lady; but all his Endeavours being fruitless,
he ran home, flattering himself, that missing
him, she was gone before. — Not finding her
there, he flew back again to the Haymarket, —
made a second Search, a second Enquiry, and
that being ineffectual as the first, his Grief and
his Despair was beyond all Bounds. — He truly
lov’d his Sister, and doubted not but some very
unhappy Accident had befallen her; but what
involved him in greater Horrors, was how he H3r 53
he should answer to his Parents his so ill acquitting
himself of the Charge they laid on him
concerning her. — Dreading their Reproaches, and
even yet more the Agonies they would feel at
seeing him return without her, he flew about the
Streets like one totally deprived of Reason, ’till
Day being far advanc’d, and every body he met
staring at him as a Person whom Drink or Madness
had render’d an Object of Derision, Shame,
at last, got the better of his Vexations, and he
ventur’d to encounter what was more dreadful
to him than Death itself.

The anxious Parents could not think of
going to their Repose ’till their dear Children
were return’d in Safety; they had Apprehensions
which they could not account for, none having
dared to inform them that Erminia was missing,
or that her Brother, many Hours before, had
called at the Door to ask if she was come, but
when they now saw him enter with that confus’d
and dejected Air, and found their Daughter
was not with him, they both at once cry’d out,
in a Transport of mingled Rage and Grief, “—
Where is your Sister? — What is become of Erminia?
— Dare you approach us without her?”

The Condition this poor Youth was in,
would be very difficult to express: — He trembled,
hung down his Head, and his flowing
Eyes let fall a Shower of Tears upon his Breast,
but had not Power to speak, ’till his Father,
impatient of knowing even the worst that could befal, H3v 54 befal, commanded him either to repeat what had
happen’d, or that Instant leave his Sight for
ever. “O Sir,” (then cry’d he) “What can I say! —
My Sister is gone, — all my Care in obeying your
Commands was vain, and I am wholly ignorant
how this Misfortune happened.”

Scarce had he spoke these Words, when
the ruin’d Maid appear’d.— Father, Mother,
Brother, all ran at once to catch her in their
Arms; but the Shock of returning to them as
she now was render’d, work’d too powerfully
on the Weakness of her Spirits, to leave her in
a Condition to receive their Embraces, and she
fell into a Swoon, in which she continu’d a long
Time, tho’ they immediately undress’d, put her
to Bed, and used all possible Means for her
Recovery.

On the Return of her Senses, she fell into
the most lamentable Complaints, but could not
be prevail’d upon, while her Father and Brother
were in the Room, to reveal any thing of the
Occasion. Her Mother observing their Presence
was a Restraint, desir’d them to withdraw; after
which, partly by Commands, and partly by Intreaties,
but more by mentioning all the Evils
that her Imagination could suggest, at last the
whole sad Secret was reveal’d.

Never was so disconsolate a Family, and
the more so, as they could by no Means discover
the brutal Author of their Misfortune; the Precautionscautions H4r 55
he had taken render’d all their Search in
vain; and when some Days after they prevail’d
on Erminia to go with them in a Coach almost
throughout all London, yet could she not point
out either the House or Street where her Ravisher
had carried her.

To fill the Measure of her Woes, a young
Gentleman arriv’d in Town who long had lov’d,
and had the Approbation of her Friends, and
for whom she also felt all of that Passion that can
inspire a virtuous Mind; he had by some Business
been prevented from accompanying the Family
in their Removal, but was now come full of the
Hopes of having his Desires compleated, by a
happy Marriage with the sweet Erminia.

Melancholy Reverse of Fate! instead of
being receiv’d with open Arms, and that chearful
Welcome he had been accustom’d to, and
had Reason to expect, the most heavy Gloom
appear’d on all the Faces of those he was permitted
to see; but Erminia no sooner heard
of his Arrival, than she shut herself up in her
Chamber, and would, by no means, be prevail’d
upon to appear before him. — To excuse her
Absence they told him she was indispos’d; but
this seem’d all Pretence, because the Freedom
with which they had always liv’d together, might
very well have allow’d him the Privilege of visiting
her in her Chamber.— He complain’d of
this Alteration in their Behaviour, and doubted
not, at first, but it was occasion’d by the Preferenceference H4v 56
they gave to some new Rival. — The true
Reason, however, could not be kept so much a
Secret, but that it was whisper’d about, and he
soon got a Hint of it. — How sensible a Shock it
must give him may easily be conceiv’d; but he
got the better of it, and after a very little Reflection,
went to her Father, told him the afflicting
News he had heard, but withal assur’d him,
that as his Love for Erminia was chiefly founded
on her Virtue, an Act of Force could not be
esteem’d any Breach of it, and was still ready to
marry her, if she would consent.

This Generosity charm’d the whole Family,
but Erminia could not think of accepting the
Offer; — the more she found him worthy of her
Affection in her State of Innocence, the less
could she support the Shame of being his, in the
Condition she now was. — She told her Parents,
that she had taken a firm Resolution never to
marry, and begg’d their Permission to retire to
an Aunt, who was married to an old Clergyman,
and lived in one of the most remote Counties in
England. Dear as her Presence was, they found
something so truly noble in her way of Thinking,
that they would not oppose it; and even her
Lover, in spite of himself, could not forbear
applauding what gave a thousand Daggers to his
Heart.

Erminia in a short time departed for
her Country Residence; nothing was ever more
mournful than the Leave she took of her Parents and I1r 57
and Brother; but not all the Intreaties of her
Lover, by Messages and Letters, could gain so
far upon her Modesty, as to prevail on her to
see him; she sent him, however, a Letter, full
of the most tender Acknowledgments of his
Love and Generosity, and with this he was
oblig’d to be content.

It is not every Woman would have resented
such an Injury in the same manner with Erminia;
and it must be confess’d, that her Notions
of Honour and Virtue had somewhat superlatively
delicate in them. — What a Loss then
to the World to be depriv’d of so amiable an
Example, as she would have doubtless prov’d,
of conjugal Truth, Tenderness, and a strict
Observance of every Duty the Men so much
desire to find in her they make a Partner for
Life! How can her brutal Ravisher reflect, as
it is impossible but he sometimes must, on the
Mischiefs he has occasion’d, without Horrors,
such as must render Life a Burthen! — Tho’ he
yet is hid in Darkness, and left no Traces by
which the Publick may point the Villain out,
and treat him with the Abhorrence he deserves,
his own Thoughts must surely be the Avengers
of his Crime, and make him more truly
wretched than any exterior Punishment could
do.

’Tis true, that Accidents of this dreadful
Nature but rarely happen, and Heaven forbid
they should ever be more frequent! Yet I am I afraid I1v 58
afraid they are much more so than is publickly
known. Methinks, therefore, Youth and Innocence
cannot be too much upon its Guard, even
against Dangers that seem most remote: The
Snares laid for it are sometimes so well conceal’d,
that the most penetrating Eye cannot
discover them; and she who boasts the greatest
Discernment, is often entangled in them the
soonest. The Inadvertent and Unwary are, indeed,
to be pitied; but those who run wilfully,
and in Defiance, as it were, of all Temptations,
even tho’ they should escape, merit little Thanks
from their own Sex, because they set an ill Precedent
for others, who, perhaps, may be less
fortunate.

I cannot say our Summer Evenings publick
Entertainments, of which I think Vaux-Hall not
only the most pleasant, but also most frequented
by the great World, are liable to such unlucky
Accidents: — Every one there appears with the
same Face which Nature gave him, and if Intrigues
are carried on, it must, at least, be with
the Consent of both Parties; yet here are dangerous
Excitements, — Musick, Flattery, delightful
Groves, and sweet Recesses to lull asleep
the Guardians of Honour. — A certain wellknown
Gentleman, whose Acquaintance Bodes
no Good to the Young and Beautiful of our Sex,
has often boasted, that Vaux-Hall was the Temple
of Flora, of which he has long been constituted
High-Priest. — I wish there may not be too
much Truth in what he says; but for the Vindicationcation I2r 59
of some Ladies who have been Lovers of
a Ramble cross the Water, I must recite one
Instance of a Disappointment he met with, much
to his Mortification, and which, for some Time,
brought him under Disgrace with the most illustrious
of all his Patrons.

As his chief Employment is the Search of
Beauty, in which our modern fine Gentlemen
allow him to have an exquisite Taste, he one
Night singled out a young Girl, who seem’d
to have compriz’d in her every thing that could
inspire an amorous Inclination. Flavia, for so
I shall call her, had two Companions with her of
her own Sex. — He artfully introduc’d himself
into their Conversation, and found, that she
whom he had pitch’d upon had no less Wit
and Address, than she had Beauty. — This, he
thought to himself, was a Conquest worth obtaining,
and resolv’d to spare no Pains in the
Attempt; being certain, that if he was so happy
to succeed in it, his Reward would be proportionate
to the Service.

The modest and grave Deportment, with
which he behaved towards her and her Friends,
made them, as they had no Male Acquaintance
with them, glad of his Protection to see them
into a Boat when the Company broke up; and
the great Crowd and Hurry which there always
is, rendered him, indeed, so very useful, that
they could not, without being guilty of too
prudish a Reserve, refuse permitting him a PassageI2 sage I2v 60
with them to the other Side; by this Means
he got Knowledge where they all liv’d, for his
Complaisance would needs extend itself so far as
to see each to her respective Habitation.

Flavia being the only Person on whom
he had a Design, he went to wait on her the
next Day, under Pretence of enquiring after her
Health, the Evening happening to be more cool
than ordinary, he said he fear’d might have had
some ill Effect on a Constitution so delicate as
her’s. Flavia, who suspected not the Serpent
that lay hid under such fair Behaviour, receiv’d
him with the utmost Civility, but her Mother
with infinitely more; she had been a Woman of
Gallantry in her Youth, and did not think herself
yet past it, so was very ready to encourage
the Visits of any Person who made a good Appearance.
She thank’d him a thousand times
over for the Care he had taken of her Daughter,
and when encourag’d by her manner of treating
him, he ask’d Permission to wait on them sometimes
at Tea-drinking; she assur’d him, nothing
could do her more Honour and Pleasure, than to
cultivate an Acquaintance with a Gentleman of
his Merit.

He now look’d on half his Work as done,
and by the Disposition of the Mother, judg’d
he should find little Difficulty in his Designs on
the Daughter, especially, as on an Enquiry into
their Circumstances, he found they were very
low; that the Father of Flavia, at his Death, had I3r 61
had left a numerous Family unprovided for, and
that the other Children were dispers’d, some with
one Relation, and some with another, the Mother
being able to support no more than this one. In
this Confidence he went immediately to the illustrious
Rinaldo, and, after magnifying his own
Zeal and Industry to serve his Pleasures, told him
he had discover’d a Treasure of Charms, fit only
for his Possession, and with such luscious Phrases
painted to him every Grace the beautiful Flavia
was Mistress of, that Rinaldo was all on Fire to
see her. “If I find her such as you describe,” (said
he) “and I enjoy her by your Means, I will deny
you nothing you can ask.” The other bow’d, and
assur’d him he would bring her into the Mall
the next Day, where his own Eyes should convince
him of the Truth.

This being agreed to, he went to the Mother
of Flavia, and entreated they would favour
him with their Company to the Park, for he
would not hazard a Refusal, by asking the one
without the other; and, besides, thought it would
be imprudent to give them any room to suspect
his Intentions, ’till he should know Rinaldo’s
Sentiments.

They now look’d on him as one of their
Acquaintance, and were not at all displeas’d to be
gallanted by a Person who made the Figure he
did. — In fine, they went; Rinaldo was there,
met them at several Turns, and found nothing
in Flavia but what attracted his Admiration. — The I3v 62
The last Time he passed by them, “You are a happy
Man,” (said he, calling him by his Name,) “to
have the Conduct of so much Beauty.”

This Purveyor for the Vices of other Men
was highly pleas’d to find the Choice he had
made approv’d. — Flavia blush’d, but her Mother
was transported to see by whom they were
taken notice of. — All the Time they continu’d
walking afterwards, they were entertain’d with
nothing but the Praises of Rinaldo, — his fine
Shape, his genteel Air, but above all his Goodnature,
Generosity, and Liberality to the Ladies,
were expatiated on with all the Pomp that Words
could give them.

He proceeded no farther at that Time, but
the next Day, when he waited on Rinaldo to
know his Commands, he found him all Impatience
for the Possession of Flavia; on which he
went directly to her, and made no Scruple of
acquainting both herself and Mother with the
Passion that illustrious Person was inspired with,
and at the same time made them the most formal
Compliments of Congratulation on their good
Fortune.

The Mother listen’d to him with the most
raptur’d Attention. — She already fancy’d herself
in her Coach and Six, and a thousand wild
Ideas of Grandeur, Homage, and Magnificence
ran through her Head in an Instant. — She told
him, that she knew her Duty better than to opposepose I4r 63
any thing the great Rinaldo wish’d, and she
hop’d her Daughter would also receive the
Honour he did her with a becoming Obedience.

Flavia all this Time spoke not a Word:
the Surprize of such an Offer at first, and the
Shock it gave her to hear her Mother’s Reply
afterwards, kept her silent: But the Blushes,
which, in reality, were excited by her Disdain,
were taken only as the Effect of her Modesty. —
Both of them urg’d her to speak, and the Emissary
of Rinaldo entreated to know from her own
Mouth, what Answer he should give his Patron;
at last, “Sir,” (said he) “I am utterly unworthy
of any Regard from so great a Person,
and equally ignorant how to repay it any otherwise
than by my Prayers and good Wishes. — This
is all I can say as to Rinaldo; by as to yourself,
from whom I little expected such a Proposal, be
assur’d I am, and will be virtuous.”

With these Words she flung out of the
Room, leaving the Person she address’d them to
in a good deal of Consternation: But her Mother
soon brought him into a better Humour; she
told him the Girl had got some romantick Notions
in her Head, but she should easily bring her
to a more just Sense of her Duty, when she talk’d
to her in private; and therefore beg’d he would
not mention her foolish Behaviour to Rinaldo,
for she would undertake to prepare her to receive
his Commands whenever he pleas’d.

It I4v 64

It was then concluded between them, that
she should remove with her Daughter to a small
but pleasant House they had on the Banks of the
River, and which, indeed, was their usual Habitation,
they having only Lodgings in Town for
the present, on Account of a Law-suit the Mother
of Flavia came to sollicit. — That she would
have two or three Days, in order to bring her
into such a Disposition as they wish’d; and that
when every thing was ready, she should let him
know by a Letter, after which Rinaldo might
come privately to their House by Water.

Our modern Pandarus was no sooner gone,
than she flew to her Daughter’s Chamber, where
she found her in Tears. — She call’d her a thousand
Fools, “— What!” (cry’d she) “do you grieve for
what any other than yourself would rejoice in!
— Do you consider who Rinaldo is? — What he
will hereafter be? And what your Sons, if you
have any by him, will be?”

To this Flavia reply’d as became a Maid devoted
to Virtue, — beg’d she would insist no farther
on a Thing she was determin’d never to consent
to; and concluded with assuring her, that
she should prefer the lowest State in Life, to all
the Grandeur in the World, if purchased at the
Expence of her Innocence.

The old Lady’s Vexation was inexpressible
at finding her so refractory to her Desires, but
resolute not to lose the Advantages she promised to K1r 65
to herself and Family by this Proposal, she left
no means untry’d to bend, or perswade her to
Compliance.

When they got to their little Country-Seat,
she set before her Eyes the Misfortunes they were
at present involved in, and endeavour’d to convince
her, that the Passion Rinaldo had for her,
seem’d a peculiar Mark of Divine Providence in
their Favour; and that what would be a Crime
to grant to any other Man, was entirely sanctify’d
by his Degree, and would be approved on both
by Heaven and Earth. But finding these Arguments
of no Weight, and that all the Sophistry
she made use of was in vain, she proceeded to
Threats, and even to Blows, nay, deny’d her
necessary Food, and us’d her with a Cruelty
scarce to be parallel’d in a Mother. This Method
also failing, and the virtuous Maid remaining
fix’d in her Resolution, she again had recourse
to Perswasion, ’till Flavia, quite tir’d out
with hearing the same Things so often repeated,
at last left off making any Reply, but was all the
Time meditating how she should avoid the Ruin
intended her.

The Mother now look’d on her Silence as a
kind of Consent, and that it was only owing
to an Obstinacy of Nature, that she did not give
it in plain Words. — In this Opinion, she set her
House in the greatest Order, and wrote to her
good Friend, as she term’d him, intimating that K her K1v 66
her Daughter seem’d now to have repented of her
Folly, and was in a Disposition to receive the
Honour of a Visit from Rinaldo whenever he
pleas’d. To this she had a speedy Answer, and
a Day appointed for the coming of that great
Person.

Flavia was soon appriz’d of it by the
Preparations making in the House, and the Orders
given her to dress, and to appear in the best
manner she was able. — “Who am I then to see,
Madam?” demanded she, in a dejected Tone; her
Mother then told her, that her illustrious Lover
intended them the Honour of a Visit; “but,”
(continu’d she) “I will leave it to yourself how to
behave towards him, and hope you have Discretion
enough to manage him so, as that the Friendship
he now vouchsafes to have for us, may not be
wholly lost.”

This artful Woman had two Reasons for
now speaking to her in these mild Terms; the
one was, that if she made use of the Authority of
a Mother, it might ruffle her Features, and consequently
render her less amiable in the Eyes of
Rinaldo; and the other, that by pretending every
thing would be left to her own Choice, she
would be less averse to entertaining him, which
was all she wanted, firmly believing a Girl of her
Years would not dare to refuse a Person like him
any thing he should ask, tho’ she might have
Courage to do it to those employ’d by him.

The K2r 67

The poor young Creature, in the mean time,
labor’d under the greatest Distraction of Mind
how to avoid an Interview, in which she could
not be assur’d of not losing, by Force, that which
she was always determin’d never to yield. — She
had no Friend on whom she could enough depend
to reveal the Secret. — At last it came into
her Head to apply to a certain Clergyman, who
lived about two Miles distant from their House.
— He was a Man pretty far advanced in Years,
and had the Reputation of all the Purity of Manners
befitting his sacred Function: She thought
there could not be a more proper Person for one
in her Circumstances to consult, or better able to
advise her how to shun the Toils laid for her
Innocence.

Accordingly she rose extremely early,
and before any of the Family were awake, stole
out of her Mother’s House, and made the best
of her way to that of this Reverend Guide, to
whom, after some Tears and Sighs, and with a
sad Compulsion of being oblig’d to reveal the
Shame of one so near to her in Blood, she related
the whole Pity-moving Story; and concluded
with begging his Protection, ’till she could find
some Means of getting her Bread, either in Service,
or by working with her Needle.

The good Doctor, who, indeed, answer’d
the Character given of him, heard her with
Amazement and Admiration; and after he had
paus’d some Time, told her, that considering K2 who K2v 68
who were her Seducers, he questioned whether
ever any Age could afford an Example of the
like Virtue; “but,” (said he) “how can I protect you
against the Authority of a Mother, seconded by
the Power of Rinaldo? There is” (continued he)
“but one way, and that is, by making you my Wife.
— I know the Disparity of our Years, and that
such an Union may be as irksome to your Inclinations,
as the other is to your Virtue. — I will
not, therefore, urge it; but fear, that all the
Endeavours I can make will be unavailing, without
that Tie, which even Rinaldo himself will
not presume to violate.”

Flavia was too much astonish’d to be
able to make any immediate Reply, yet testify’d
nothing in her Countenance that could give him
room to think she was averse to his Proposal;
nor had she, in reality, any Reason to be so. He
had a good Benefice, a small Estate in Land, no
Children, and a very graceful Person, tho’ his
Face was somewhat furrow’d by Time. But
what weigh’d more with her than all other Considerations
was, that a Marriage with him would
be a sure Defence from all Attacks upon her
Honour, and deliver her from the Power of a
Mother, who, she had too much Reason to believe,
would, one time or other, give her up to
Infamy.

But, not to be longer in relating this Affair,
than they were in agreeing on it, she neither had,
nor affected any Scruples; and the Coach that Morning L1r 69
Morning setting out for London, they took their
Passage in it, and were married the next Day.

The Distraction which the Mother of Flavia
was in when she was not to be found, may easily
be guess’d; but when Rinaldo came, and receiv’d
such a Baulk to his Expectations, he was extremely
incensed at first against the Person who had so
much assur’d him of a Reception answerable to
his warmest Wishes. The Negotiator had little
to say in his Defence, but that “the Girl was certainly
run mad”, that “he had never thought himself
more secure,” and begg’d Pardon in the most servile
manner. — That great Person too much despis’d
him to take any other Revenge on him,
than reporting how much he had prov’d unfit
for the Employment he valued himself upon:
This was, however, a very severe Punishment;
for whenever he attempted any thing of the like
nature, he was always reproach’d with Flavia,
and all he could do was insufficient to retrieve
his Credit for a long time.

The Virtue of Flavia has its Reward in the
greatest Blessing Heaven can give, a Mind perfectly
content. — She lives pleas’d and happy in
her Lot, and by her Behaviour justifies her Husband’s
Choice, and puts to Shame all those who
at first pretended to censure so unequal a Match.

It is certain the Ideas that arise in our Minds
when we reflect on Temptations we have had
the Power to shun, are, beyond all Description, sweet. L1v 70
sweet. — There is a laudable Pride in triumphing
over the Artifices of those that would seduce us,
which diffuses the highest Satisfaction to the Soul;
but yet we ought to beware how we court Dangers
in the Assurance of overcoming them. —
We may flatter ourselves too far; there is nothing
more frequently deceives us than our own
Hearts; and it is, methinks, venturing too far to
stake that innate, settled Peace, which conscious
Innocence, tho’ untry’d, unmagnify’d, affords,
against the precarious Hope of purchasing a publick
Fame, which, however just, is yet in Danger
of being blasted by Envy and Detraction.

End of the First Book.