The Fortunate Mistress (Parts 1 and 2)

by Daniel Defoe

away with a man, but it wasallowed by most people, that best knew her, that she, being brought tothe greatest distress, was carried to the workhouse belonging to theparish, where she died soon after with grief."

  Nothing could give me more satisfaction than what Thomas had related; sonow, I thought I would ask about the Lady Roxana (for he had been mynext-door neighbour when I had that title conferred on me). "Pray,Thomas," said I, "did not you speak of a great person of quality, whosename I have forgot, that lived next door to my Lord ----'s when you washis valet? pray who was she? I suppose a foreigner, by the name youcalled her." "Really, my lady," replied he, "I do not know who she was;all I can say of her is, that she kept the greatest company, and was abeautiful woman, by report, but I never saw her; she was called the LadyRoxana, was a very good mistress, but her character was not so good asto private life as it ought to be. Though I once had an opportunity,"continued he, "of seeing a fine outlandish dress she danced in beforethe king, which I took as a great favour, for the cook took me up whenthe lady was out, and she desired my lady's woman to show it to me."

  All this answered right, and I had nothing to do but to keep my Turkishdress out of the way, to be myself unknown to my child, for as he hadnever seen Roxana, so he knew nothing of me.

  In the interval, my husband had hired a stage-coach to carry us to thecity of Menin, where he intended to go by water down the river Lys toGhent, and there take coach to Isabella fort, opposite the city ofAnvers, and cross the river to that place, and go from thence by land toBreda; and as he had agreed and settled this patrol, I was satisfied,and we set out next day. We went through several handsome towns andvillages before we took water, but by water we went round part of thecity of Courtrai, and several fortified towns. At Anvers we hired acoach to Breda, where we stayed two days to refresh ourselves, for wehad been very much fatigued; as Willemstadt was situated so as to beconvenient for our taking water for Rotterdam, we went there, and beingshipped, had a safe and speedy voyage to that city.

  As we had resolved in our journey to settle at the Hague, we did notintend to stay any longer at Rotterdam, than while my husband had allour wealth delivered to him from the several merchants he had consignedit to. This business took up a month, during which time we lived inready-furnished lodgings on the Great Quay, where all the respect wasshown us as was due to our quality.

  Here my husband hired two more men-servants, and I took two maids, andturned Isabel, who was a well-bred, agreeable girl, into my companion;but that I might not be too much fatigued, my husband went to the Haguefirst, and left me, with three maids and Thomas, at Rotterdam, while hetook a house, furnished it, and had everything ready for my reception,which was done with great expedition. One of his footmen came with aletter to me one morning, to let me know his master would come by thescow next day to take me home, in which he desired that I would preparefor my departure. I soon got everything ready, and the next morning, onthe arrival of the scow, I saw my husband; and we both, with all theservants, left the city of Rotterdam, and safely got to the Hague theafternoon following.

  It was now the servants had notice given them to call me by the name of"my lady," as the honour of baronetage had entitled me, and with whichtitle I was pretty well satisfied, but should have been more so had notI yet the higher title of countess in view.

  I now lived in a place where I knew nobody, neither was I known, onwhich I was pretty careful whom I became acquainted with; ourcircumstances were very good, my husband loving, to the greatest degree,my servants respectful; and, in short, I lived the happiest life womancould enjoy, had my former crimes never crept into my guilty conscience.

  I was in this happy state of life when I wrote a letter to the Quaker,in which I gave her a direction where she might send to me. And about afortnight after, as I was one afternoon stepping into my coach in orderto take an airing, the postman came to our door with letters, one ofwhich was directed to me, and as soon as I saw it was the Quaker's hand,I bid the coachman put up again, and went into my closet to read thecontents, which were as follows:

  "DEAR FRIEND,--I have had occasion to write to thee several times since we saw each other, but as this is my first letter, so it shall contain all the business thou wouldst know. I got safe to London, by thy careful ordering of the coach, and the attendants were not at all wanting in their duty. When I had been at home a few days, thy woman, Mrs. Amy, came to see me, so I took her to task as thou ordered me, about murdering thy pretended daughter; she declared her innocence, but said she had procured a false evidence to swear a large debt against her, and by that means had put her into a prison, and fee'd the keepers to hinder her from sending any letter or message out of the prison to any person whatever. This, I suppose, was the reason thou thought she was murdered, because thou wert relieved from her by this base usage. However, when I heard of it, I checked Amy very much, but was well satisfied to hear she was alive. After this I did not hear from Amy for above a month, and in the interim (as I knew thou wast safe), I sent a friend of mine to pay the debt, and release the prisoner, which he did, but was so indiscreet as to let her know who was the benefactress. My next care was to manage thy Spitalfields business, which I did with much exactness. And the day that I received thy last letter, Amy came to me again, and I read as much of it to her as she was concerned in: nay, I entreated her to drink tea with me, and after it one glass of citron, in which she drank towards thy good health, and she told me she would come to see thee as soon as possible. Just as she was gone, I was reading thy letter again in the little parlour, and that turbulent creature (thy pretended daughter) came to me, as she said, to return thanks for the favour I had done her, so I accidentally laid thy letter down in the window, while I went to fetch her a glass of cordial, for she looked sadly; and before I returned I heard the street door shut, on which I went back without the liquor, not knowing who might have come in, but missing her, I thought she might be gone to stand at the door, and the wind had blown it to; but I was never the nearer, she was sought for in vain. So when I believed her to be quite gone, I looked to see if I missed anything, which I did not; but at last, to my great surprise, I missed your letter, which she certainly took and made off with. I was so terrified at this unhappy chance that I fainted away, and had not one of my maidens come in at that juncture, it might have been attended with fatal consequences. I would advise thee to prepare thyself to see her, for I verily believe she will come to thee. I dread your knowing of this, but hope the best. Before I went to fetch the unhappy cordial, she told me, as she had often done before, that she was the eldest daughter, that the captain's wife was your second daughter, and her sister, and that the youngest sister was dead. She also said there were two brothers, the eldest of whom had never been seen by any of them since he run away from an uncle's at nine years of age, and that the youngest had been taken care of by an old lady that kept her coach, whom he took to be his godmother. She gave me a long history in what manner she was arrested and flung into Whitechapel jail, how hardly she fared there; and at length the keeper's wife, to whom she told her pitiful story, took compassion of her, and recommended her to the bounty of a certain lady who lived in that neighbourhood, that redeemed prisoners for small sums, and who lay for their fees, every return of the day of her nativity; that she was one of the six the lady had discharged; that the lady prompted her to seek after her mother; that she thereupon did seek thee in all the towns and villages between London and Dover; that not finding thee at Dover she went to Deal; and that at length, she being tired of seeking thee, she returned by shipping to London, where she was no sooner arrived but she was immediately arrested and flung into the Marshalsea prison, where she lived in a miserable condition, without the use of pen, ink, and paper, and without the liberty of having any one of her friends
come near her. 'In this condition I was,' continued she, 'when you sent and paid my debt for me, and discharged me.' When she had related all this she fell into such a fit of crying, sighing, and sobbing, from which, when she was a little recovered, she broke out into loud exclamations against the wickedness of the people in England, that they could be so unchristian as to arrest her twice, when she said it was as true as the Gospel that she never did owe to any one person the sum of one shilling in all her life; that she could not think who it was that should owe her so much ill-will, for that she was not conscious to herself that she had any ways offended any person in the whole universal world, except Mrs. Amy, in the case of her mother, which, she affirmed, she was acquitted of by all men, and hoped she should be so by her Maker; and that if she (Mrs. Amy)