by Daniel Defoe
Accordingly I came on the Tuesday, and staid a Fortnight, but he came not; so I went back to Kensington, and after that, I had very few of his Lordship’s Visits, which I was very glad of, and in a little time after was more glad of it, than I was at first, and upon a far better Account too.
For now I began not to be sick of his Lordship only, but really I began to be sick of the Vice; and as I had good Leisure now to divert and enjoy myself in the World, as much as it was possible for any Woman to do, that ever liv’d in it; so I found that my Judgment began to prevail upon me to fix my Delight upon nobler Objects that I had formerly done; and the very beginning of this brought some just Reflections upon me, relating to things past, and to the former Manner of my living; and tho’ there was not the least Hint in all this, from what may be call’d Religion or Conscience, and far from any-thing of Repentance, or any-thing that was a-kin to it, especially at first; yet the Sence of things, and the Knowledge I had of the World, and the vast Variety of Scenes that I had acted my Part in, began to work upon my Sences, and it came so very strong upon my Mind one Morning, when I had been lying awake some time in my Bed, as if somebody had ask’d me the Question, What was I a Whore for now? It occurr’d naturally upon this Enquiry, that at first I yielded to the Importunity of my Circumstances, the Misery of which, the Devil dismally aggravated, to draw me to comply; for I confess, I had strong Natural Aversions to the Crime at first, partly owing to a virtuous Education, and partly to a Sence of Religion; but the Devil, and that greater Devil of Poverty, prevail’d; and the Person who laid Siege to me, did it in such an obliging, and I may almost say, irresistible Manner, all still manag’d by the Evil Spirit; for I must be allow’d to believe, that he has a Share in all such things, if not the whole Management of them: But, I say, it was carried on by that Person, in such an irresistible Manner, that, (as I said when I related the Fact) there was no withstanding it: These Circumstances, I say, the Devil manag’d, not only to bring me to comply, but he continued them as Arguments to fortifie my Mind against all Reflection, and to keep me in that horrid Course I had engag’d in, as if it were honest and lawful.
But not to dwell upon that now; this was a Pretence, and here was something to be said, tho’ I acknowledge, it ought not to have been sufficient to me at all; but, I say, to leave that, all this was out of Doors; the Devil himself cou’d not form one Argument, or put one Reason into my Head now, that cou’d serve for an Answer, no, not so much as a pretended Answer to this Question, Why I shou’d be a Whore now?
It had for a-while been a little kind of Excuse to me, that I was engag’d with this wicked old Lord, and that I cou’d not, in Honour, forsake him; but how foolish and absurd did it look, to repeat the Word Honour on so vile an Occasion? As if a Woman shou’d prostitute her Honour in Point of Honour; horrid Inconsistency; Honour call’d upon me to detest the Crime and the Man too, and to have resisted all the Attacks which from the beginning had been made upon my Virtue; and Honour, had it been consulted, wou’d have preserv’d me honest from the Beginning.
For HONESTY and HONOUR, are the same.222
This, however, shews us with what faint Excuses, and with what Trifles we pretend to satisfie ourselves, and suppress the Attempts of Conscience in the Pursuit of agreeable Crime, and in the possessing those Pleasures which we are loth to part with.
But this objection wou’d now serve no longer; for my Lord had, in some sort, broke his Engagements (I won’t call it Honour again) with me, and had so far slighted me, as fairly to justine my entire quitting of him now; and so, as the Objection was fully answer’d, the Question remain’d still unanswer’d, Why am I a Whore now? Nor indeed, had I any-thing to say for myself, even to myself, I cou’d not without blushing, as wicked as I was, answer, that I lov’d it for the sake of the Vice, and that I delighted in being a Whore, as such; I say, I cou’d not say this, even to myself, and all alone, nor indeed, wou’d it have been true; I was never able in Justice, and with Truth, to say I was so wicked as that; but as Necessity first debauch’d me, and Poverty made me a Whore at the Beginning; so excess of Avarice for getting Money, and excess of Vanity, continued me in the Crime, not being able to resist the Flatteries of Great Persons; being call’d the finest Woman in France; being caress’d by a Prince; and afterwards I had Pride enough to expect, and Folly enough to believe, tho’ indeed, without ground, by a Great Monarch: These were my Baits, these the Chains by which the Devil held me bound; and by which I was indeed, too fast held for any Reasoning that I was then Mistress of, to deliver me from.
But this was all over now; Avarice cou’d have no Pretence; I was out of the reach of all that Fate could be suppos’d to do to reduce me; now I was so far from Poor, or the Danger of it, that I had fifty Thousand Pounds in my Pocket at least; nay, I had the Income of fifty Thousand Pounds; for I had 2500 l. a Year coming in, upon very good Land-Security, besides 3 or 4000 l. in Money, which I kept by me for ordinary Occasions, and besides Jewels and Plate, and Goods, which were worth near 5600 l. more; these put together, when I ruminated on it all in my Thoughts, as you may be sure I did often, added Weight still to the Question, as above, and it sounded continually in my Head, what’s next? What am I a Whore for now?
It is true, this was, as I say, seldom out of my Thoughts, but yet it made no Impressions upon me of that Kind which might be expected from a Reflection of so important a Nature, and which had so much of Substance and Seriousness in it.
But however, it was not without some little Consequences, even at that time, and which gave a little Turn to my Way of Living at first, as you shall hear in its Place.
But one particular thing interven’d besides this, which gave me some Uneasiness at this time, and made way for other things that follow’d: I have mention’d in several little Digressions, the Concern I had upon me for my Children, and in what Manner I had directed that Affair; I must go on a little with that Part, in order to bring the subsequent Parts of my Story together.
My Boy, the only Son I had left, that I had a legal Right to call Son, was, as I have said, rescued from the unhappy Circumstances of being Apprentice to a Mechanick,223 and was brought-up upon a new foot; but tho’ this was infinitely to his Advantage, yet it put him back near three Years in his coming into the World, for he had been near a Year at the Drudgery he was first put to, and it took up two Year more to form him for what he had Hopes given him he shou’d hereafter be, so that he was full 19 Years old, or rather 20 Years, before he came to be put-out224 as I intended; at the end of which time, I put him to a very flourishing Italian Merchant, and he again sent him to Messina, in the Island of Sicily; and a little before the Juncture I am now speaking of, I had Letters from him, that is to say, Mrs. Amy had Letters from him, intimating, that he was out of his Time,225 and that he had an Opportunity to be taken into an English House there, on very good Terms, if his Support from hence might answer what he was bid to hope for; and so begg’d, that what wou’d be done for him, might be so order’d, that he might have it for his present Advancement, referring for the Particulars to his Master, the Merchant in London, who he had been put Apprentice to here; who, to cut the Story short, gave such a satisfactory Account of it, and of my Young-Man, to my steddy and faithful Counsellor, Sir Robert Clayton, that I made no Scruple to pay 4000 I. which was 1000 l. more than he demanded, or rather propos’d, that he might have Encouragement to enter into the World better than he expected.
His Master remitted the Money very faithfully to him, and finding by Sir Robert Clayton, that the young Gentleman, for so he call’d him, was well supported, wrote such Letters on his Account, as gave him a Credit at Messina, equal in Value to the Money itself.
I cou’d not digest it very well, that I shou’d all this while conceal myself thus from my own Child, and make all this Favour due, in his Opinion, to a Stranger; and yet I cou’d not find in my Heart to let my Son know what a Mother he had, and what a Life she liv’d; when at the same time that he must think himself infinitely oblig’d to me, he
must be oblig’d, if he was a Man of Virtue, to hate his Mother, and abhor the Way of Living, by which all the Bounty he enjoy’d, was rais’d.
This is the Reason of mentioning this Part of my Son’s Story, which is otherwise no ways concern’d in my History, but as it put me upon thinking how to put an End to that wicked Course I was in, that my own Child, when he shou’d afterwards come to England in a good Figure, and with the Appearance of a Merchant, shou’d not be asham’d to own me.
But there was another Difficulty, which lay heavier upon me a great-deal, and that was, my Daughter; who, as before, I had reliev’d by the Hands of another Instrument, which Amy had procur’d: The Girl, as I have mention’d, was directed to put herself into a good Garb, take Lodgings, and entertain a Maid to wait upon her, and to give herself some Breeding, that is to say, to learn to Dance, and fit herself to appear as a Gentlewoman; being made to hope, that she shou’d, sometime or other, find that she shou’d be put into a Condition to support her Character, and to make herself amends for all her former Troubles; she was only charg’d not to be drawn into Matrimony, till she was secur’d of a Fortune that might assist to dispose of herself suitable not to what she then was, but what she was to be.
The Girl was too sensible of her Circumstances, not to give all possible Satisfaction of that Kind, and indeed, she was Mistress of too much Understanding, not to see how much she shou’d be oblig’d to that Part, for her own Interest.
It was not long after this, but being well equipp’d, and in every-thing well set-out, as she was directed, she came, as I have related above, and paid a Visit to Mrs. Amy, and to tell her of her good Fortune: Amy pretended to be much surpriz’d at the Alteration, and overjoy’d for her sake, and began to treat her very well, entertain’d her handsomely, and when she wou’d have gone away, pretended to ask my Leave, and sent my Coach home with her; and in short, learning from her where she lodg’d, which was in the City, Amy promis’d to return her Visit, and did so; and in a word, Amy and SUSAN, (for she was my own Name) began an intimate Acquaintance together.
There was an inexpressible Difficulty in the poor Girl’s way, or else I shou’d not have been able to have forborn discovering myself to her, and this was, her having been a Servant in my particular Family; and I cou’d by no means think of ever letting the Children know what a kind of Creature they ow’d their Being to, or given them an Occasion to upbraid their Mother with her scandalous Life, much less to justine the like Practice from my Example.
Thus it was with me; and thus, no doubt, considering Parents always find it, that their own Children are a Restraint to them in their worst Courses, when the Sence of a Superiour Power has not the same Influence: But of that hereafter.
There happen’d however, one good Circumstance in the Case of this poor Girl, which brought about a Discovery sooner than otherwise it wou’d have been; and it was thus: After she and Amy had been intimate for some time, and had exchang’d several Visits, the Girl now grown a Woman, talking to Amy of the gay things that us’d to fall-out when she was Servant in my Family, spoke of it with a kind of Concern, that she cou’d not see [me] her Lady; and at last she adds, ’twas very strange: Madam, says she to Amy, but tho’ I liv’d near two Years in the House, I never saw my Mistress in my Life, except it was that publick Night when she danc’d in the fine Turkish Habit, and then she was so disguis’d, that I knew nothing of her afterwards.
Amy was glad to hear this; but as she was a cunning Girl from the beginning, she was not to be Bit, and so she laid no Stress upon that, at first, but gave me an Account of it; and, I must confess, it gave me a secret Joy, to think that I was not known to her; and that, by virtue of that only Accident, I might, when other Circumstances made room for it, discover myself to her, and let her know she had a Mother in a Condition fit to be own’d.
It was a dreadful Restraint to me before, and this gave me some very sad Reflections, and made way for the great Question I have mention’d above; and by how much the Circumstance was bitter to me, by so much the more agreeable it was, to understand that the Girl had never seen me, and consequently, did not know me again, if she was to be told who I was.
However, the next time she came to visit Amy, I was resolv’d to put it to a Tryal, and to come into the Room, and let her see me, and to see by that, whether she knew me or no; but Amy put me by, lest indeed, as there was reason enough to question, I shou’d not be able to contain, or forbear discovering myself to her; so it went off for that time.
But both these Circumstances, and that is the reason of mentioning them, brought me to consider of the Life I liv’d, and to resolve to put myself into some Figure of Life, in which I might not be scandalous to my own Family, and be afraid to make myself known to my own Children, who were my own Flesh and Blood.
There was another Daughter I had, which, with all our Enquiries we cou’d not hear-of, high nor low, for several Years after the first: But I return to my own Story.
Being now in part remov’d from my old Station, I seem’d to be in a fair Way of retiring from my old Acquaintances, and consequently from the vile abominable Trade I had driven so long; so that the Door seem’d to be, as it were, particularly open’d to my Reformation, if I had any-mind to it in earnest; but for all that, some of my old Friends, as I had us’d to call them, enquir’d me out, and came to visit me at Kensington, and that more frequently than I wish’d they would do; but it being once known where I was, there was no avoiding it, unless I wou’d have downright refus’d and affronted them; and I was not yet in Earnest enough with my Resolutions, to go that length.
The best of it was, my old lewd Favourite, who I now heartily hated, entirely dropp’d me; he came once to visit me, but I caus’d Amy to deny me, and say I was gone out; she did it so oddly too, that when his Lordship went away, he said coldly to her, Well, well, Mrs. Amy, I find your Mistress does not desire to be seen; tell her I won’t trouble her any-more, repeating the Words any-more two or three times over, just at his going away.
I reflected a little on it at first, as unkind to him, having had so many considerable Presents from him; but, as I have said, I was sick of him, and that on some Accounts, which, if I cou’d suffer myself to publish them, wou’d fully justifie my Conduct; but that Part of the Story will not bear telling; so I must leave it, and proceed.
I had begun a little, as I have said above, to reflect upon my Manner of Living, and to think of putting a new Face upon it; and nothing mov’d me to it more, than the Consideration of my having three Children, who were now grown up; and yet, that while I was in that Station of Life, I cou’d not converse with them, or make myself known to them; and this gave me a great-deal of Uneasiness; at last I enter’d into Talk on this Part of it, with my Woman, Amy.
We liv’d at Kensington, as I have said, and though I had done with my old wicked L—, as above, yet I was frequently visited, as I said, by some others, so that, in a word, I began to be known in the Town, not by my Name only, but by my Character too, which was worse.
It was one Morning when Amy was in-Bed with me, and I had some of my dullest Thoughts about me, that Amy hearing me sigh pretty often, ask’d me if I was not well? Yes, Amy, I am well enough, says I, but my Mind is oppress’d with heavy Thoughts, and has been so a good-while; and then I told her how it griev’d me that I cou’d not make myself known to my own Children, or form any Acquaintances in the World: Why so? says Amy; Why prethee, Amy, says I, what will my Children say to themselves, and to one another, when they find their Mother, however rich she may be, is at best but a Whore, a common Whore? And as for Acquaintance, prethee Amy, what sober Lady, or what Family of any Character will visit or be acquainted with a Whore?
Why, all that’s true, Madam, says Amy; but how can it be remedy’d now? ’Tis true Amy, said I, the thing cannot be remedy’d now, but the Scandal of it, I fancy, may be thrown off.
Truly, says Amy I do not see how, unless you will go Abroad again, and live in some other Nation, where nobody has known us, or seen
us, so that they cannot say they ever saw us before.
That very Thought of Amy put what follows into my Head; and I return’d, Why Amy, says I, is it not possible for me to shift my Being, from this Part of the Town, and go and live in another Part of the City, or another Part of the Country, and be as entirely conceal’d as if I had never been known?
Yes, says Amy, I believe it might; but then you must put off all your Equipages, and Servants, Coaches, and Horses; change your Liveries, nay, your own Cloaths, and if it was possible, your very Face.
Well, says I, and that’s the way Amy, and that I’ll do, and that forthwith; for I am not able to live in this Manner any longer: Amy came into this with a kind of Pleasure particular to herself, that is to say, with an Eagerness not to be resisted; for Amy was apt to be precipitant in her Motions, and was for doing it immediately: Well, says I, Amy, as soon as you will, but what Course must we take to do it? we cannot put off Servants, and Coach and Horses, and every-thing; leave off House-keeping, and transform ourselves into a new Shape, all in a Moment; Servants must have Warning, and the Goods must be sold off, and a thousand things, and this began to perplex us, and in particular, took us up two or three Days Consideration.
