by Daniel Defoe
I confess I cou’d not hear all this without being mov’d very much, and yet I continued a little stiff and formal too, a good-while: I told him, that before I cou’d give him any Reply to the rest of his Discourse, I ought to give him the Satisfaction of telling him, that his Son was alive; and that indeed, since I saw him so concern’d about it, and mention it with such Affection, I was sorry that I had not found out some Way or other to let him know it sooner; but that I thought, after his slighting the Mother, as above, he had summ’d up his Affection to the Child, in the Letter he had wrote to me about providing for it; and that he had, as other Fathers often do, look’d upon it as a Birth, which being out of the Way, was to be forgotten, as its Beginning was to be repented of; that in providing sufficiently for it, he had done more than all such Fathers us’d to do, and might be well satisfied with it.
He answer’d me, that he shou’d have been very glad if I had been so good, but to have given him the Satisfaction of knowing the poor unfortunate Creature was yet alive, and he wou’d have taken some Care of it upon himself, and particularly, by owning it for a legitimate Child, which, where no-body had known to the contrary, wou’d have taken off the Infamy which wou’d otherwise cleave to it; and so the Child shou’d not, itself, have known any-thing of its own Disaster; but that he fear’d it was now too late.
He added, that I might see by all his Conduct since that, what unhappy Mistake drew him into the thing at first; and that he wou’d have been very far from doing the Injury to me, or being instrumental to add Une Miserable, (that was his Word) to the World, if he had not been drawn into it, by the Hopes he had of making me his own; but that, if it was possible to rescue the Child from the Consequences of its unhappy Birth, he hop’d I wou’d give him leave to do it, and he wou’d let me see that he had both Means and Affection still to do it; and that, notwithstanding all the Misfortunes that had befallen him, nothing that belong’d to him, especially by a Mother he had such a Concern for, as he had for me, shou’d ever want what he was in a Condition to do for it.
I cou’d not hear this without being sensibly touch’d with it; I was asham’d that he shou’d show that he had more real Affection for the Child, tho’ he had never seen it in his Life, than I that bore it; for indeed, I did not love the Child, nor love to see it; and tho’ I had provided for it, yet I did it by Amy’s Hand, and had not seen it above twice in four Years; being privately resolv’d that when it grew up, it shou’d not be able to call me Mother.
However, I told him, the Child was taken Care of, and that he need not be anxious about it, unless he suspected, that I had less Affection for it than he, that had never seen it in his Life; that he knew what I had promis’d him to do for it, namely, to give it the Thousand Pistoles which I had offer’d him, and which he had declin’d; that, I assur’d him, I had made my Will, and that I had left it 5000 l. and the Interest of it till he shou’d come of Age, if I died before that time; that I wou’d still be as good as that to it; but if he had a-mind to take it from me, into his Government, I wou’d not be against it; and to satisfie him that I wou’d perform what I said, I wou’d cause the Child to be deliver’d to him, and the 5000 l. also for its Support; depending upon it, that he wou’d show himself a Father to it, by what I saw of his Affection to it, now.
I had observ’d that he had hinted two or three times in his Discourse, his having had Misfortunes in the World, and I was a little surpriz’d at the Expression, especially at the repeating it so often, but I took no Notice of that Part yet.
He thank’d me for my Kindness to the Child, with a Tenderness which shew’d the Sincerity of all he had said before; and which encreas’d the Regret with which, as I said, I look’d back on the little Affection I had shew’d to the poor Child; he told me, he did not desire to take him from me, but so as to introduce him into the World as his own; which he cou’d still do, having liv’d absent from his other Children (for he had two Sons and a Daughter which were brought up at Nimeugen246 in Holland, with a Sister of his) so long, that he might very well send another Son of ten Years old to be bred up with them; and suppose his Mother to be dead or alive, as he found Occasion; and that as I had resolv’d to do so handsomely for the Child, he wou’d add to it something considerable, tho’ having had some great Disappointments, (repeating the Words) he cou’d not do for it as he wou’d otherwise have done.
I then thought myself oblig’d to take Notice of his having so often mention’d his having met with Disappointments; I told him, I was very sorry to hear he had met with any-thing afflicting to him in the World; that I wou’d not have any-thing belonging to me, add to his Loss, or weaken him in what he might do for his other Children; and that I wou’d not agree to his haying the Child away, tho’ the Proposal was infinitely to the Child’s Advantage, unless he wou’d promise me, that the whole Expence shou’d be mine; and that if he did not think 5000 l. enough for the Child, I wou’d give it more.
We had so much Discourse upon this, and the old Affairs, that it took up all our Time at his first Visit; I was a little importunate with him, to tell me how he came to find me out, but he put it off for that time; and only obtaining my Leave to visit me again, he went away; and indeed, my Heart was so full with what he had said already, that I was glad when he went away; sometimes I was full of Tenderness and Affection for him, and especially, when he express’d himself so earnestly and passionately about the Child; other-times I was crowded with Doubts about his Circumstances; sometimes I was terrify’d with Apprehensions, lest if I shou’d come into a close Correspondence with him, he shou’d any-way come to hear what kind of Life I had led at Pall-Mall, and in other Places, and it might make me miserable afterwards; from which last Thought I concluded, that I had better repulse him again, than receive him: All these Thoughts, and many more, crowded in so fast, I say, upon me, that I wanted to give Vent to them, and get rid of him, and was very glad when he was gone away.
We had several Meetings after this, in which still we had so many Preliminaries to go through, that we scarce ever border’d upon the main Subject; once indeed, he said something of it, and I put it off with a kind of a Jest; alas! says I, those things are out of the Question now; ’tis almost two Ages since those things were talk’d between us, says I; you see I am grown an Old-Woman since that: Another time he gave a little Push at it again, and I laugh’d again; Why what dost thou talk of, said I, in a formal way, Dost thou not see I am turn’d QUAKER? I cannot speak of those things now: Why, says he, the QUAKERS marry as well as other People, and love one-another as well; besides, says he, the QUAKERS Dress does not ill-become you, and so jested with me again, and so it went off for a third time; however, I began to be kind to him in process of time, as they call it, and we grew very intimate; and if the following Accident had not unluckily interven’d, I had certainly married him, or consented to marry him, the very next time he had ask’d me.
I had long waited for a Letter from Amy, who it seems, was just at that time gone to Roan the second time, to make her Enquiries about him; and I receiv’d a Letter from her at this unhappy Juncture, which gave me the following Account of my Business.
I. That for my Gentleman, who I had now, as I may say, in my Arms; she said, he had been gone from Paris, as I have hinted, having met with some great Losses and Misfortunes; that he had been in Holland on that very Account, whither he had also carried his Children; that he was after that, settl’d for some time, at Roan; that she had been at Roan, and found there, (by a meer accident) from a Dutch Skipper, that he was at London, had been there above three Years; that he was to be found upon the Exchange, on the French Walk; and that he lodg’d at St. Lawrence Pountney’s-Lane, and the like; so Amy said she suppos’d I might soon find him out; but that she doubted247 he was poor, and not worth looking-after: This she did because of the next Clause, which the Jade had most mind-to, on many Accounts.
II. That as to the Prince —, that, as above, he was gone into Germany, where his Estate lay; that he had quitted the French Se
rvice, and liv’d retir’d; that she had seen his Gentleman, who remain’d at Paris, to sollicit his Arrears,248 &c. That he had given her an Account how his Lord had employ’d him, to enquire for me, and find me out, as above, and told her what Pains he had taken to find me; that he had understood that I was gone to England; that he once had Orders to go to England to find me; that his Lord had resolv’d, if he cou’d have found me, to have call’d me a Countess, and so have marry’d me, and have carry’d me into Germany with him; and that his Commission was still to assure me, that the Prince wou’d marry me, if I wou’d come to him; and that he wou’d send him an Account that he had found me, and did not doubt but he wou’d have Orders to come over to England to attend me, in a Figure suitable to my Quality.
Amy, an ambitious Jade, who knew my weakest Part, namely, that I lov’d great things, and that I lov’d to be flatter’d and courted; said abundance of kind things upon this Occasion, which she knew were suitable to me, and wou’d prompt my Vanity; and talk’d big of the Prince’s Gentleman having Orders to come over to me, with a Procuration to marry me by Proxy, (as Princes usually do in like Cases) and to furnish me with an Equipage, and I know not how many fine things; but told me withal, that she had not yet let him know that she belong’d to me still, or that she knew where to find me, or to write to me; because she was willing to see the Bottom of it, and whether it was a Reality, or a Gasconade;249 she had indeed, told him, that if he had any such Commission, she wou’d endeavour to find me out; but no more.
III. For the Jew, she assur’d me, that she had not been able to come at a Certainty what was become of him, or in what Part of the World he was; but that thus much she had learn’d from good-hands, that he had committed a Crime, in being concern’d in a Design to rob a rich Banker at Paris; and that he was fled, and had not been heard-of there for above six Years.
IV. For that of my Husband the Brewer, she learn’d, that being commanded into the Field upon an Occasion of some Action in Flanders, he was wounded at the Battle of Mons,250 and died of his Wounds in the Hospital of the Invalids;251 so there was an End of my four Enquiries, which I sent her over to make.
This Account of the Prince, and the return of his Affection to me, with all the flattering great things which seem’d to come along with it; and especially, as they came gilded, and set-out by my Maid Amy; I say, this Account of the Prince came to me in a very unlucky Hour, and in the very Crisis of my Affair.
The Merchant and I had enter’d into close Conferences upon the grand Affair; I had left off talking my Platonicks,252 and of my Independency, and being a Free Woman, as before; and he having clear’d up my Doubts too, as to his Circumstances, and the Misfortunes he had spoken of, I had gone so far, that we had begun to consider where we shou’d live, and in what Figure; what Equipage; what House, and the like.
I had made some Harangues upon the delightful Retirement of a Country-Life, and how we might enjoy ourselves so effectually, without the Incumbrances of Business, and the World; but all this was Grimace, and purely because I was afraid to make any publick Appearance in the World, for fear some impertinent Person of Quality shou’d chop upon [me] again, and cry out, Roxana, Roxana, by —, with an Oath, as had been done before.
My Merchant, bred to Business, and us’d to converse among Men of Business, cou’d hardly tell how to live without it; at least, it appear’d he shou’d be like a Fish out of Water, uneasie and dying; but however, he join’d with me, only argued, that we might live as near London as we cou’d; that he might sometimes come to Change, and hear how the World shou’d go Abroad, and how it far’d with his Friends, and his Children.
I answer’d, That if he chose still to embarrass himself with Business, I suppos’d it wou’d be more to his Satisfaction to be in his own Country, and where his Family was so well known, and where his Children also were.
He smil’d at the Thoughts of that, and let me know, that he shou’d be very willing to embrace such an Offer, but that he cou’d not expect it of me, to whom England was, to be sure, so naturaliz’d now, as that it wou’d be carrying me out of my native Country, which he wou’d not desire by any means, however agreeable it might be to him.
I told him, he was mistaken in me; that as I had told him so much of a Married State being a Captivity, and the Family being a House of Bondage; that when I married, I expected to be but an Upper Servant; so if I did, nothwithstanding, submit to it, I hop’d he shou’d see I knew how to act the Servant’s Part, and do every-thing to oblige my Master; that if I did not resolve to go with him wherever he desir’d to go, he might depend I wou’d never have him; and did I not, said I, offer myself to go with you to the East-Indies?
All this while, this was indeed, but a Copy of my Countenance;253 for as my Circumstances wou’d not admit my Stay in London, at least, not so as to appear publickly; I resolv’d if I took him, to live remote in the Country, or go out of England with him.
But in an evil Hour, just now came Amy’s Letter; in the very middle of all these Discourses; and the fine things she had said about the Prince, began to make strange Work with me; the Notion of being a Princess, and going over to live where all that had happen’d here, wou’d have been quite sunk out of Knowledge, as well as out of Memory, (Conscience excepted) was mighty taking; the Thoughts of being surrounded with Domesticks; honour’d with Titles; be call’d HER HIGHNESS; and live in all the Splendor of a Court; and, which was still more, in the Arms of a Man of such Rank, and who I knew lov’d and valued me; all this, in a word, dazzl’d my Eyes; turn’d my Head; and I was as truly craz’d and distracted for about a Fortnight, as most of the People in Bedlam,254 tho’ perhaps, not quite so far gone.
When my Gentleman came to me the next time, I had no Notion of255 him; I wish’d I had never receiv’d him at-all; in short, I resolv’d to have no more to say to him; so I feign’d myself indispos’d; and tho’ I did come down to him, and speak to him a little, yet I let him see that I was so ill, that I was (as we say) no Company, and that it wou’d be kind in him to give me Leave to quit him for that time.
The next Morning he sent a Footman to enquire how I did; and I let him know, I had a violent Cold, and was very ill with it; two Days after, he came again, and I let him see me again, but feign’d myself so hoarse, that I cou’d not speak to be heard; and that it was painful to me but to whisper; and, in a word, I held him in this suspence near three Weeks.
During this time, I had a strange Elevation upon my Mind; and the Prince, or the Spirit of him, had such a Possession of me, that I spent most of this Time in the reallizing all the Great Things of a Life with the Prince, to my Mind; pleasing my Fancy with the Grandeur I was supposing myself to enjoy; and withal, wickedly studying in what Manner to put off this Gentleman, and be-rid of him for-ever.
I cannot but say, that sometimes the Baseness of the Action stuck hard with me; the Honour and Sincerity with which he had always treated me; and, above all, the Fidelity he had shew’d me at Paris, and that I ow’d my Life to him; I say, all these star’d in my Face; and I frequently argued with myself upon the Obligation I was under, to him; and how base wou’d it be, now too, after so many Obligations and Engagements, to cast him off?
But the Title of Highness, and of a Princess, and all those fine things, as they came in, weigh’d down all this; and the Sence of Gratitude vanish’d, as if it had been a Shadow.
At other times, I consider’d the Wealth I was Mistress of; that I was able to live like a Princess, tho’ not a Princess; and that my Merchant (for he had told me all the Affair of his Misfortunes) was far from being poor, or even mean; that together, we were able to make up an Estate of between three and four Thousand Pounds a Year, which was in itself, equal to some Princes abroad: But tho’ this was true, yet the Name of Princess, and the flutter of it, in a word, the Pride weigh’d ’em down; and all these Arguings generally ended to the Disadvantage of my Merchant; so that, in short, I resolv’d to drop him, and give him a final Answer, at his next coming; namely, That some
thing had happen’d in my Affairs, which had caus’d me to alter my Measures, unexpectedly; and, in a word, to desire him to trouble himself no farther.
I think verily, this rude Treatment of him, was for some time, the Effect of a violent Fermentation256 in my Blood; for the very Motion which the steddy Contemplation of my fancy’d Greatness had put my Spirits257 into, had thrown me into a kind of Fever, and I scarce knew what I did.
I have wonder’d since, that it did not make me Mad; nor do I now think it strange, to hear of those, who have been quite Lunatick with their Pride; that fancy’d themselves Queens, and Empresses, and have made their Attendants serve them upon the Knee; given Visitors their Hand to kiss, and the like; for cetainly, if Pride will not turn the Brain, nothing can.
However, the next time my Gentleman came, I had not Courage enough, or not Ill-Nature enough, to treat him in the rude Manner I had resolv’d to do; and it was very well I did not; for soon after, I had another Letter from Amy, in which was the mortifying News, and indeed, surprizing to me, that my Prince (as I with a secret Pleasure had call’d him) was very much hurt by a Bruise he had receiv’d in hunting (and engaging with) a wild Boar; a cruel and desperate Sport, which the Noblemen of Germany, it seems, much delight in.