Roxana

by Daniel Defoe

  Amy said, she cou’d say nothing to that; but this, that she was satisfied, her Mistress would marry no-body, unless she had certain Intelligence that he had been dead, from somebody that saw him buried; but alas! says Amy, my Mistress was reduc’d to such dismal Circumstances, that no-body wou’d be so foolish to think of her, unless it had been somebody to go a-begging with her.

  Amy then seeing him so perfectly deluded, made a long and lamentable Outcry, how she had been deluded away, to marry a poor Footman; for he is no worse, or better, says she, tho’ he calls himself a Lord’s Gentleman; and here, says Amy, he has dragg’d me over into a strange Country, to make a Begger of me; and then she falls a howling again, and sniveling; which, by the way, was all Hypocrisie, but acted so to the Life, as perfectly deceiv’d him, and he gave entire Credit to every Word of it.

  Why, Amy, says he, you are very well dress’d, you don’t look as if you were in danger of being a Begger; Ay, hang him, says Amy, they love to have fine Cloaths here, if they have never a Sm—k under them; but I love to have Money in Cash, rather than a Chest full of fine Cloaths; besides, Sir, says she, most of the Cloaths I have, were given me in the last Place I had, when I went away from my Mistress.

  Upon the whole of the Discourse, Amy got out of him, what Condition he was in, and how he liv’d, upon her Promise to him, that if ever she came to England, and should see her old Mistress, she should not let her know that he was alive: Alas! Sir, says Amy, I may never come to see England again, as long as I live; and if I shou’d, it wou’d be ten Thousand to One, whether I shall see my old Mistress; for how shou’d I know which Way to look for her? or what Part of England she may be in; not I, says she, I don’t so much as know how to enquire for her; and if I shou’d, says Amy, ever be so happy as to see her, I would not do her so much Mischief as to tell her where you were, Sir, unless she was in a Condition to help herself and you too: This farther deluded him, and made him entirely open in his conversing with her: As to his own Circumstances, he told her, she saw him in the highest Preferment he had arriv’d to, or was ever like to arrive to; for, having no Friends or Acquaintance in France, and which was worse, no Money, he never expected to rise; that he could have been made a Lieutenant to a Troop of Light-Horse but the Week before, by the Favour of an Officer in the Gensd’arms, who was his Friend; but that he must have found 8000 Livres to have paid for it, to the Gentleman who possess’d it; and had Leave given him to sell: But where cou’d I get 8000 Livres, says he that have never been Master 0f 500 Livres Ready-Money, at a-time, since I came into France?

  O Dear! Sir, says Amy, I am very sorry to hear you say so; I fancy if you once got up to some Preferment, you wou’d think of my old Mistress again, and do something for her; poor Lady, says Amy, she wants it, to be sure, and then she falls a-crying again; ’tis a sad thing, indeed, says she, that you should be so hard put to it for Money, when you had got a Friend to recommend you, and shou’d lose it for want of Money; ay, so it was, Amy, indeed, says he; but what can a Stranger do, that has neither Money or Friends? Here Amy puts in again on my Account; well, says she, my poor Mistress has had the Loss, tho’ she knows nothing of it; O dear! how happy it would have been, to be sure, Sir, you wou’d have help’d her all you cou’d; Ay, says he, Amy, so I wou’d, with all my Heart; and even as I am, I wou’d send her some Relief, if I thought she wanted it; only, that then letting her know I was alive, might do her some Prejudice, in case of her settling, or marrying any-body.

  Alas! says Amy, Marry! who will marry her, in the poor Condition she is in? And so their Discourse ended for that Time.

  All this was meer Talk on both Sides, and Words of Course; for on farther Enquiry, Amy found, that he had no such Offer of a Lieutenant’s Commission, or any thing like it; and that he rambled in his Discourse, from one thing to another: But of that in its Place.

  You may be sure, that this Discourse, as Amy at first related it, was moving, to the last Degree, upon me; and I was once going to have sent him the 8000 Livres, to purchase the Commission he had spoken of; but as I knew his Character better than any-body, I was willing to search a little farther into it; and so I set Amy to enquire of some other of the Troop, to see what Character he had, and whether there was any-thing in the Story of a Lieutenant’s Commission, or no.

  But Amy soon came to a better Understanding of him; for she presently learnt, that he had a most scoundrel Character; that there was nothing of Weight in any thing he said; but that he was, in short, a meer Sharper; one that would stick at nothing to get Money, and that there was no depending on any thing he said; and that, more especially, about the Lieutenant’s Commission, she understood, that there was nothing at-all in it; but they told her, how he had often made use of that Sham, to borrow Money, and move Gentlemen to pity him, and lend him Money, in hopes to get him Preferment; that he had re ported, that he had a Wife, and five Children, in England, who he maintain’d out of his Pay; and by these Shifts110 had run into Debt in several Places; and upon several Complaints for such things, he had been threatened to be turn’d out of the Gensd’arms; and that, in short, he was not to be believ’d in any thing he said, or trusted on any Account.

  Upon this Information, Amy began to cool in her farther meddling with him; and told me, it was not safe for me to attempt doing him any Good, unless I resolv’d to put him upon Suspicions and Enquiries, which might be to my Ruin, in the Condition I was now in.

  I was soon confirm’d in this Part of his Character; for the next time that Amy came to talk with him, he discover’d himself more effectually; for while she had put him in Hopes of procuring One to advance the Money for the Lieutenant’s Commission for him, upon easie Conditions, he by Degrees, dropt the Discourse, then pretended it was too late, and that he could not get it; and then descended to ask poor Amy to lend him 500 Pistoles.

  Amy pretended Poverty; that her Circumstances were but mean; and that she cou’d not raise such a Sum; and this she did, to try him to the utmost; he descended to 300, then to 100, then to 50, and then to a Pistole, which she lent him, and he never intending to pay it, play’d out of her Sight, as much as he cou’d; and thus being satisfied that he was the same worthless Thing he had ever been, I threw off all Thoughts of him; whereas, had he been a Man of any Sence, and of any Principle of Honour, I had it in my Thoughts to retire to England again, send for him over, and have liv’d honestly with him: But as a Fool is the worst of Husbands to do a Woman Good, so a Fool is the worst Husband a Woman can do Good to: I wou’d willingly have done him Good, but he was not qualified to receive it, or make the best Use of it; had I sent him ten Thousand Crowns, instead of eight Thousand Livres,111 and sent it with express Condition, that he should immediately have bought himself the Commission he talk’d of, with Part of the Money, and have sent some of it to relieve the Necessities of his poor miserable Wife at London, and to prevent his Children to be kept by the Parish, it was evident, he wou’d have been still but a private Trooper, and his Wife and Children should still have starv’d at London, or been kept of meer Charity, as, for ought he knew, they then were.

  Seeing therfore, no Remedy, I was oblig’d to withdraw my Hand from him, that had been my first Destroyer, and reserve the Assistance that I intended to have given him, for another more desirable Opportunity; all that I had now to do, was to keep myself out of his Sight, which was not very difficult for me to do, considering in what Station he liv’d.

  Amy and I had several Consultations then, upon the main Question, namely, how to be sure never to chop upon112 him again, by Chance, and so be surpriz’d into a Discovery; which would have been a fatal Discovery indeed: Amy propos’d, that we shou’d always take Care to know where the Gensd’arms were quarter’d, and thereby effectually avoid them; and this was one Way.

  But this was not so as to be fully to my Satisfaction; no ordinary Way of enquiring where the Gensd’arms were quarter’d, were sufficient to me; but I found out a Fellow, who was compleatly qualified for the Work of a Spy, (for France has P
lenty of such People,) this Man I employ’d to be a constant and particular Attendant upon his Person and Motions; and he was especially employ’d, and order’d to haunt him as a Ghost; that he should scarce let him be ever out of his Sight; he perform’d this to a Nicety, and fail’d not to give me a perfect Journal of all his Motions, from Day to Day; and whether for his Pleasures, or his Business, was always at his Heels.

  This was somewhat expensive, and such a Fellow merited to be well paid; but he did his Business so exquisitely punctual, that this poor Man scarce went out of the House, without my knowing the Way he went, the Company he kept, when he went Abroad, and when he stay’d at Home.

  By this extraordinary Conduct I made myself safe, and so went out in publick, or stay’d at-home, as I found he was, or was not, in a Possibility of being at Paris, at Versailles, or any Place I had Occasion to be at: This, tho’ it was very chargeable,113 yet as I found it absolutely necessary, so I took no Thought about the Expence of it; for I knew I cou’d not purchase my Safety too dear.

  By this Management I found an Opportunity to see what a most insignificant, unthinking Life, the poor indolent Wretch, who by his unactive Temper had at first been my Ruin, now liv’d; how he only rose in the Morning, to go to-Bed at Night; that saving the necessary Motion of the Troops, which he was oblig’d to attend, he was a meer motionless Animal, of no Consequence in the World; that he seem’d to be one, who, tho’ he was indeed alive, had no manner of Business in Life, but to stay to be call’d out of it; he neither kept any Company, minded any Sport, play’d at any Game, or indeed, did any thing of moment; but, in short, saunter’d about, like one, that it was not two Livres Value whether he was dead or alive; that when he was gone, would leave no Remembrance behind him that ever he was here; that if ever he did any thing in the World to be talk’d of, it was, only to get114 five Beggers, and starve his Wife: The Journal of his Life, which I had constantly sent me every Week, was the least significant of any-thing of its Kind, that was ever seen; as it had really nothing of Earnest in it, so it wou’d make no Jest, to relate it; it was not important enough, so much as to make the Reader merry withal; and for that Reason I omit it.

  Yet this Nothing-doing Wretch was I oblig’d to watch and guard against, as against the only thing that was capable of doing me Hurt in the World, I was to shun him, as we wou’d shun a Spectre, or even the Devil, if he was actually in our Way; and it cost me after the Rate of a 150 Livres a Month, and very cheap too, to have this Creature constantly kept in View; that is to say, my Spy undertook, never to let him be out of his Sight an Hour, but so as that he cou’d give an Account of him; which was much the easier to be done, considering his Way of Living; for he was sure, that for whole Weeks together, he wou’d be ten Hours of the Day, half asleep on a Bench at the Tavern-Door where he quarter’d, or drunk within the House.

  Tho’ this wicked Life he led, sometimes mov’d me to pity him, and to wonder how so well-bred, Gentlemanly a Man as he once was, could degenerate into such a useless thing, as he now appear’d; yet, at the same time, it gave me most contemptible Thoughts of him, and made me often say, I was a Warning for all the Ladies of Europe, against marrying of FOOLS; a Man of Sence falls in the World, and gets-up again, and a Woman has some Chance for herself; but with a FOOL! once fall, and ever undone; once in the Ditch, and die in the Ditch; once poor, and sure to starve.

  But ’tis time to have done with him; once I had nothing to hope for, but to see him again; now my only Felicity was, if possible, never to see him, and, above all, to keep him from seeing me; which, as above, I took effectual Care of.

  I was now return’d to Paris; my little Son of Honour, as I cali’d him, was left at —, where my last Country Seat then was, and I came to Paris, at the Prince’s Request; thither he came to me as soon as I arriv’d, and told me, he came to give me Joy of my Return, and to make his Acknowledgments, for that I had given him a SON: I thought indeed, he had been going to give me a Present, and so he did the next Day, but in what he said then, he only jested with me: He gave me his Company all the Evening; Supp’d with me about Midnight, and did me the Honour, as I then call’d it, to lodge me in his Arms all the Night, telling me, in jest, that the best Thanks for a Son born, was giving the Pledge for another.

  But as I hinted, so it was, the next Morning he laid me down, on my Toilet, a Purse with 300 Pistoles: I saw him lay it down, and understood what he meant, but I took no Notice of it, till I came to it (as it were) casually; then I gave a great Cry-out, and fell a-scolding in my Way, for he gave me all possible Freedom of Speech, on such Occasions: I told him, he was unkind; that he would never give me an Opportunity to ask him for any thing; and that he forc’d me to Blush, by being too much oblig’d, and the like; all which I knew was very agreeable to him; for as he was Bountiful, beyond Measure, so he was infinitely oblig’d by my being so backward to ask any Favours; and I was even with him, for I never ask’d him for a Farthing in my Life.

  Upon this rallying him, he told me, I had either perfectly studied the Art of Humour, or else, what was the greatest Difficulty to others, was Natural to me; adding, That nothing cou’d be more obliging to a Man of Honour, than not to be sollicing and craving.

  I told him, nothing cou’d be craving upon him; that he left no room for it; that I hop’d he did not give, meerly to avoid the Trouble of being importun’d; I told him, he might depend upon it, that I should be reduc’d very low indeed, before I offer’d to disturb him that Way.

  He said, a Man of Honour ought always to know what he ought to do; and as he did nothing but what he knew was reasonable, he gave me Leave to be free with him, if I wanted any thing; that he had too much Value for me, to deny me any thing, if I ask’d; but that it was infinitely agreeable to him to hear me say, that what he did, was to my Satisfaction.

  We strain’d Compliments thus a great while, and as he had me in his Arms most Part of the Time, so upon all my Expressions of his Bounty to me, he put a Stop to me with his Kisses, and wou’d admit me to go on no farther.

  I should in this Place mention, that this Prince was not a Subject of France, tho’ at that Time he resided at Paris, and was much at Court, where, I suppose, he had or expected some considerable Employment: But I mention it on this Account; that a few Days after this, he came to me, and told me, he was come to bring me not the most welcome News that ever I heard from him in his Life; I look’d at him, a little surpriz’d; but he return’d, Do not be uneasie, it is as unpleasant to me, as to you, but I come to consult with you about it, and see, if it cannot be made a little easie to us both.

  I seem’d still more concern’d, and surpriz’d; at last he said, it was, that he believ’d he should be oblig’d to go into Italy; which tho’ otherwise it was very agreeable to him, yet his parting with me, made it a very dull thing but to think of.

  I sat mute, as one Thunder-struck, for a good-while; and it presantly occur’d to me, that I was going to lose him, which, indeed, I cou’d but ill bear the Thoughts of; and as he told me, I turn’d pale: What’s the Matter? said he, hastily; I have surpriz’d you, indeed; and stepping to the Side-Board, fills a Dram of Cordial-Water,115 (which was of his own bringing) and comes to me, Be not surpriz’d, said he, I’ll go no-where without you; adding several other things so kind, as nothing could exceed it.

  I might, indeed, turn pale, for I was very much surpriz’d at first, believing that this was, as it often happens in such Cases, only a Project to drop me, and break off an Amour, which he had now carried on so long; and a thousand Thoughts whirl’d about my Head in the few Moments while I was kept in suspence; (for they were but a few) I say, I was indeed, surpriz’d, and might, perhaps, look pale; but I was not in any Danger of Fainting, that I knew of.

  However, it not a little pleas’d me, to see him so concern’d and anxious about me; but I stopp’d a little, when he put the Cordial to my Mouth, and taking the Glass in my Hand, I said, My Lord, your Words are infinitely more of a Cordial to me, than this Citron;116 for as nothi
ng can be a greater Affliction, than to lose you, so nothing can be a greater Satisfaction than the Assurance, that I shall not have that Misfortune.

  He made me sit down, and sat down by me, and after saying a thousand kind things to me; he turns upon me, with a Smile, Why, will you venture yourself to Italy with me? says he; I stopp’d a-while, and then answer’d, that I wonder’d he would ask me that Question; for I would go any-where in the World, or all over the World, wherever he shou’d desire me, and give me the Felicity of his Company.

  Then he enter’d into a long Account of the Occasion of his Journey, and how the King had Engag’d him to go, and some other Circumstances, which are not proper to enter into here; it being by no means proper to say anything, that might lead the Reader into the least Guess at the Person.

  But to cut short this Part of the Story, and the History of our Journey, and Stay abroad, which would almost fill up a Volume of itself, I say, we spent all that Evening in chearful Consultations about the Manner of our Travelling; the Equipage and Figure he shou’d go in; and in what Manner I shou’d go: Several Ways were propos’d, but none seem’d feasible; till, at last, I told him, I thought it wou’d be so troublesome, so expensive, and so publick, that it wou’d be many Ways inconvenient to him; and tho’ it was a kind of Death to me, to lose him, yet that rather than so very much perplex his Affairs, I wou’d submit to any-thing.

  At the next Visit I fill’d his Head with the same Difficulties, and then, at last, came over him with a Proposal, that I wou’d stay in Paris, or where else he shou’d direct; and when I heard of his safe Arrival, wou’d come away by myself, and place myself as near him as I cou’d.

  This gave him no Satisfaction at-all; nor wou’d he hear any more of it; but if I durst venture myself, as he call’d it, such a Journey, he wou’d not lose the Satisfaction of my Company; and as for the Expence, that was not to be nam’d, neither, indeed, was there room to name it; for I found, that he travell’d at the KING’S Expence, as well for himself, as for all his Equipage; being upon a Piece of secret Service of the last Importance.