by Daniel Defoe
In a word, I was sick of the Discourse, and endeavour’d many ways to put an End to it, but it was impossible; for the Captain’s Wife, who call’d her Sister, prompted her, and press’d her to tell it, most ignorantly thinking, that it wou’d be a pleasant Tale to all of us.
Two or three times the QUAKER put in, That this Lady Roxana had a good Stock of Assurance; and that ’twas likely, if she had been in Turkey, she had liv’d with, or been kept by, some Great Bassa334 there: But still she wou’d break-in upon all such Discourse, and fly-out into the most extravagant Praises of her Mistress, the fam’d Roxana: I run her down, as some scandalous Woman; that it was not possible to be otherwise; but she wou’d not hear of it; her Lady was a Person of such and such Qualifications; that nothing but an Angel was like her, to be sure; and yet, after all she cou’d say, her own Account brought her down to this, That, in short, her Lady kept little less than a Gaming-Ordinary;335 or, as it wou’d be call’d in the Times since that, an Assembly for Gallantry and Play.
All this while I was very uneasie, as I said before, and yet the whole Story went off again without any Discovery, only that I seem’d a little concern’d, that she shou’d liken me to this gay Lady, whose Character I pretended to run down very much, even upon the foot of336 her own Relation.
But I was not at the End of my Mortifications yet neither; for now my innocent QUAKER threw out an unhappy Expression, which put me upon the Tenters337 again: Says she to me, This Lady’s Habit, I fancy, is just such a-one as thine, by the Description of it; and then turning to the Captain’s Wife, says she, I fancy, my Friend has a finer Turkish or Persian Dress, a great-deal: O! says the Girl, ’tis impossible to be finer; my Lady’s, says she, was all cover’d with Gold, and Diamonds; her Hair and Head-Dress, I forgot the Name they gave it, said she, shone like the Stars, there was so many Jewels in it.
I never wish’d my good Friend the QUAKER out of my Company before now; but indeed, I wou’d have given some Guineas to have been rid of her just now; for beginning to be curious in the comparing the two Dresses, she innocently began a Description of mine; and nothing terrify’d me so much, as the Apprehension lest she shou’d importune me to show it, which I was resolv’d I wou’d never agree to.
But before it came to this, she press’d my Girl to describe the Tyhaia, or Head-dress; which she did so cleverly, that the QUAKER cou’d not help saying, Mine was just such a-one; and after several other Similitudes, all very vexatious to me, out comes the kind Motion to me, to let the Ladies see my Dress; and they join’d their eager Desires of it, even to Importunity.
I desir’d to be excus’d; tho’ I had little to say at first, why I declin’d it; but at last, it came into my Head to say, It was pack’d up with my other Cloaths that I had least Occassion for, in order to be sent on-board the Captain’s Ship; but that if we liv’d to come to Holland together, (which, by the way, I resolv’d shou’d never happen) then, I told them, at unpacking my Cloaths, they shou’d see me dress’d in it; but they must not expect I shou’d dance in it, like the Lady Roxana, in all her fine things.
This carry’d it off pretty well; and getting over this, got over most of the rest, and I began to be easie again; and, in a word, that I may dismiss the Story too, as soon as may be, I got-rid at last, of my Visitors, who I had wish’d gone two Hours sooner than they intended it.
As soon as they were gone, I run up to Amy, and gave Vent to my Passions, by telling her the whole Story, and letting her see what Mischiefs one false Step of hers had like, unluckily, to have involv’d us all in, more perhaps, than we cou’d ever have liv’d to get through: Amy was sensible of it enough, and was just giving her Wrath a Vent another way, viz. by calling the poor Girl all the damn’d Jades and Fools, (and sometimes worse Names) that she cou’d think of; in the middle of which, up comes my honest good QUAKER, and put an end to our Discourse: The QUAKER came in smiling, (for she was always soberly chearful), Well, says she, Thou art deliver’d at last; I come to joy thee of it; I perceiv’d thou wer’t tir’d grievously of thy Visitors.
Indeed, says I, so I was; that foolish young Girl held us all in a Canterbury Story,338 I thought she wou’d never have done with it: Why truly, I thought she was very careful to let thee know she was but a Cookmaid: Ay, says I, and at a Gaming-House, or Gaming-Ordinary, and at t’other-end of the Town too; all which (by the way) she might know, wou’d add very little to her Good-Name among us Citizens.339
I can’t think, says the QUAKER, but she had some other Drift in that long Discourse; there’s something else in her Head, says she, I am satisfy’d of that: Thought I, are you satisfy’d of it? I am sure I am the less satisfy’d for that at least, ’tis but small Satisfaction340 to me, to hear you say so: What can this be? says I; and when will my Uneasiness have an end? But this was silent, and to myself, you may be sure: But in Answer to my Friend the QUAKER, I return’d, by asking her a Question or two about it: As what she thought was in it? and why she thought there was any-thing in it? For, says I, she can have nothing in it relating to me.
Nay, says the kind QUAKER, if she had any View towards thee, that’s no Business of mine; and I shou’d be far from desiring thee to inform me.
This allarm’d me again; not that I fear’d trusting the good-humour’d Creature with it, if there had been anything of just Suspicion in her; but this Affair was a Secret I car’d not to communicate to any-body: However, I say, this allarm’d me a little; for as I had conceal’d everything from her, I was willing to do so still; but as she cou’d not but gather up abundance of things from the Girl’s Discourse, which look’d towards me, so she was too penetrating to be put-off with such Answers, as might stop another’s Mouth: Only there was this double Felicity in it; first, That she was not Inquisitive to know, or find any-thing out; and not dangerous, if she had known the whole Story: But, as I say, she cou’d not but gather up several Circumstances from the Girl’s Discourse; as particularly, the Name of Amy; and the several Descriptions of the Turkish Dress, which my Friend the QUAKER had seen, and taken so much Notice of, as I have said above.
As for that, I might have turn’d it off by jesting with Amy, and asking her, who she liv’d with before she came to live with me? but that wou’d not do; for we had unhappily anticipated that way of talking, by having often talk’d how long Amy had liv’d with me; and which was still worse, by having own’d formerly, that I had had Lodgings in the Pallmall; so that all those things corresponded too well: There was only one thing that help’d me out with the QUAKER, and that was, the Girl’s having reported how rich Mrs. Amy was grown, and that she kept her Coach; now as there might be many more Mrs. Amy’s besides mine, so it was not likely to be my Amy, because she was far from such a Figure as keeping her Coach; and this carry’d it off from the Suspicions which the good Friendly QUAKER might have in her Head.
But as to what she imagin’d the Girl had in her Head, there lay more real Difficulty in that Part, a great-deal; and I was allarm’d at it very much; for my Friend the QUAKER, told me, She observ’d that the Girl was in a great Passion when she talk’d of the Habit, and more when I had been importun’d to show her mine, but declin’d it: She said, She several times perceiv’d her to be in Disorder, and to restrain herself with Great Difficulty; and once or twice she mutter’d to herself, that she had found it out, or, that she wou’d find it out, she cou’d not tell whether; and that she often saw Tears in her Eyes; that when I said my Suit of Turkish Cloaths was put up, but that she shou’d see it when we arriv’d in Holland, she heard her say softly, She wou’d go over on purpose then.
After she had ended her Observations, I added, I observ’d too, that the Girl talk’d and look’d oddly, and that she was mighty Inquisitive, but I cou’d not imagine what it was she aim’d at: Aim’d at, says the QUAKER, ’tis plain to me what she aims at; she believes thou art the same Lady Roxana that danc’d in the Turkish Vest, but she is not certain: Does she believe so! says I; If I had thought that, I wou’d have put her out of her Pain: Believ
e so! says the QUAKER, Yes; and I began to believe so too, and shou’d have believ’d so still, if thou had’st not satisfy’d me to the contrary, by thy taking no Notice of it, and by what thou hast said since: Shou’d you have believ’d so? said I, warmly, I am very sorry for that; why, wou’d you have taken me for an Actress, or a French Stage-Player? No, says the good kind Creature, thou carry’st it too far; as soon as thou mad’st thy Reflections upon her, I knew it cou’d not be; but who cou’d think any other, when she describ’d the Turkish Dress which thou hast here, with the Head-Tire and Jewels; and when she nam’d thy Maid Amy too, and several other Circumstances concurring? I shou’d certainly have believ’d it, said she, if thou had’st not contradicted it; but as soon as I heard thee speak, I concluded it was otherwise: That was very kind, said I, and I am oblig’d to you for doing me so much Justice; ’tis more it seems, than that young talking Creature does: Nay, says the QUAKER, indeed she does not do thee Justice; for she as certainly believes it still, as ever she did: Does she, said I? Ay, says the QUAKER, and I warrant thee she’ll make thee another Visit about it: Will she, says I? then I believe I shall downright affront her: No, thou shalt not affront her, says she, (full of her good-humour and Temper) I’ll take that Part off thy hands, for I’ll affront her for thee, and not let her see thee: I thought that was a very kind Offer, but was at a Loss how she wou’d be able to do it; and the Thought of seeing her there again, half distracted me; not knowing what Temper she wou’d come in, much less what Manner to receive her in; but my fast Friend, and constant Comforter, the QUAKER, said, she perceiv’d the Girl was impertinent, and that I had no Inclination to converse with her; and she was resolv’d I shou’d not be troubled with her: But I shall have Occasion to say more of this presently; for this Girl went farther yet, than I thought she had.
It was now time, as I said before, to take Measures with my Husband, in order to put-off my Voyage; so I fell into Talk with him one Morning as he was dressing, and while I was in-Bed; I pretended I was very ill; and as I had but too easie a Way to impose upon him, because he so absolutely believ’d every-thing I said; so I manag’d my Discourse so, as that he should understand by it, I was a-breeding, tho’ I did not tell him so.
However, I brought it about so handsomely, that before he went out of the Room, he came and sat down by my Bed-side, and began to talk very seriously to me, upon the Subject of my being so every-Day ill; and that, as he hop’d I was with-Child, he wou’d have me consider well of it, whether I had not best alter my Thoughts of the Voyage to Holland; for that being Sea-sick, and which was worse, if a Storm shou’d happen, might be very dangerous to me; and after saying abundance of the kindest things that the kindest of Husbands in the World cou’d say, he concluded, That it was his Request to me, that I wou’d not think any-more of going, till after all shou’d be over; but that I wou’d, on the contrary, prepare to Lye-in where I was, and where I knew as well as he, I cou’d be very well provided, and very well assisted.
This was just what I wanted; for I had, as you have heard, a thousand good Reasons why I shou’d put off the Voyage, especially, with that Creature in Company, but I had a-mind the putting it off shou’d be at his Motion, not my own; and he came into it of himself, just as I wou’d have had it: This gave me an Opportunity to hang-back a little, and to seem as if I was unwilling: I told him, I cou’d not abide to put him to Difficulties and Perplexities in his Business; that now he had hir’d the Great-Cabbin in the Ship, and perhaps, paid some of the Money, and, it may be, taken Freight for Goods; and to make him break it all off again, wou’d be a needless Charge to him, or perhaps, a Damage to the Captain.
As to that, he said, it was not to be nam’d, and he wou’d not allow it to be any Consideration at-all; that he cou’d easily pacific the Captain of the Ship, by telling him the Reason of it; and that if he did make him some Satisfaction for the Disappointment, it shou’d not be much.
But my Dear, says I, you ha’n’t heard me say I am with-Child, neither can I say so; and if it shou’d not be so at last, then I shall have made a fine Piece of Work of it indeed; besides, says I, the two Ladies, the Captain’s Wife, and her Sister, they depend upon our going over, and have made great Preparations, and all in Compliment to me; what must I say to them?
Well, my Dear, says he, if you shou’d not be with-Child, tho’ I hope you are, yet there is no harm done; the staying three or four Months longer in England will be no Damage to me, and we can go when we please, when we are sure you are not with-Child, or when it appearing that you are with-Child, you shall be down and up again; and as for the Captain’s Wife and Sister, leave that Part to me, I’ll answer for it, there shall be no Quarrel rais’d upon that Subject; I’ll make your Excuse to them by the Captain himself; so all will be well enough there, I’ll warrant you.
This was as much as I cou’d desire; and thus it rested for a-while: I had indeed, some anxious Thoughts about this impertinent Girl, but believ’d that putting off the Voyage wou’d have put an End to it all; so I began to be pretty easie; but I found myself mistaken, for I was brought to the Point of Destruction by her again, and that in the most unaccountable Manner imaginable.
My Husband, as he and I had agreed, meeting the Captain of the Ship, took the Freedom to tell him, That he was afraid he must disappoint him, for that something had fallen out, which had oblig’d him to alter his Measures, and that his Family cou’d not be ready to go, time enough for him.
I know the Occasion, Sir, says the Captain; I hear your Lady has got a Daughter more than she expected; I give you Joy of it: What do you mean by that? says my Spouse: Nay, nothing, says the Captain, but what I hear the Women tattle over the Tea-Table; I know nothing, but that you don’t go the Voyage upon it, which I am sorry for; but you know your own Affairs, added the Captain, that’s no Business of mine.
Well but, says my Husband, I must make you some Satisfaction for the Disappointment, and so pulls out his Money: No, no, says the Captain, and so they fell to straining their Compliments one upon another; but, in short, my Spouse gave him three or four Guineas, and made him take it; and so the first Discourse went off again, and they had no more of it.
But it did not go off so easily with me; for now, in a word, the Clouds began to thicken about me, and I had Allarms on every side: My Husband told me what the Captain had said; but very happily took it, that the Captain had brought a Tale by-halves,341 and having heard it one way, had told it another; and that neither cou’d he understand the Captain, neither did the Captain understand himself; so he contented himself to tell me, he said, word for word, as the Captain deliver’d it.
How I kept my Husband from discovering my Disorder, you shall hear presently; but let it suffice to say just now, that if my Husband did not understand the Captain, nor the Captain understand himself, yet I understood them both very well; and to tell the Truth, it was a worse Shock than ever I had had yet: Invention supply’d me indeed, with a sudden Motion to avoid showing my Surprize; for as my Spouse and I was sitting by a little Table, near the Fire, I reach’d out my Hand, as if I had intended to take a Spoon which lay on the other side, and threw one of the Candles off of the Table; and then snatching it up, started up upon my Feet, and stoop’d to the Lap of my Gown, and took it in my Hand; O! says I, my Gown’s spoil’d; the Candle has greas’d it prodigiously: This furnish’d me with an Excuse to my Spouse, to break off the Discourse for the present, and call Amy down; and Amy not coming presently, I said to him, My Dear, I must run upstairs, and put it off, and let Amy clean it a-little; so my Husband rise up too, and went into a Closet, where he kept his Papers and Books, and fetch’d a Book out, and sat down by himself, to read.
Glad I was that I had got away; and up I run to Amy, who, as it happen’d, was alone; O Amy! says I, we are all utterly undone; and with that, I burst out a-crying, and cou’d not speak a Word for a great-while.
I cannot help saying, that some very good Reflections offer’d themselves upon this Head; it presently occurr’d, What a
glorious Testimony it is to the Justice of Providence, and to the Concern Providence has in guiding all the Affairs of Men, (even the least, as well as the greatest) that the most secret Crimes are, by the most unforeseen Accidents, brought to light, and discover’d.
Another Reflection was, How just it is, that Sin and Shame follow one-another so constantly at the Heels, that they are not like Attendants only, but like Cause and Consequence, necessarily connected one with another; that the Crime going before, the Scandal is certain to follow; and that ’tis not in the Power of humane Nature to conceal the first, or avoid the last.
What shall I do? Amy, said I, as soon as I cou’d speak; and what will become of me? and then I cry’d again so vehemently, that I cou’d say no more a great-while; Amy was frighted almost out of her Wits, but knew nothing what the Matter was; but she begg’d to know, and perswaded me to compose myself, and not cry so: Why Madam, if my Master shou’d come up now, says she, he will see what a Disorder you are in; he will know you have been crying, and then he will want to know the Cause of it; with that I broke-out again, O! he knows it already, Amy, says I; he knows all! ’tis all discover’d! and we are undone! Amy was Thunder-struck now indeed: Nay, says Amy, if that be true, we are undone indeed; but that can never be; that’s impossible, I’m sure.
No, no, says I, ’tis far from impossible, for I tell you ’tis so; and by this time being a little recover’d, I told her what Discourse my Husband and the Captain had had together, and what the Captain had said: This put Amy into such a Hurry, that she cry’d; she rav’d; she swore and curs’d like a Mad-thing; then she upbraided me, that I wou’d not let her kill the Girl when she wou’d have done it; and that it was all my own doing, and the like: Well however, I was not for killing the Girl yet, I cou’d not bear the Thoughts of that neither.
