MEMOIRS OF MISS ELLIOT.

MISS ANN ELLIOT, the ſubject of theſe memoirs, was born, at Tunbridge, of parents rather diſtinguiſhed for their honeſty than earth⯑ly riches. Her father was a ſhoemaker by trade; but buſineſs not anſwering his ex⯑pectations, he was conſtrained to get his living by mending of ſhoes; which, being an induſtrious man, yielded him a com⯑fortable ſubſiſtence. His wife alſo con⯑tributed what ſhe could towards the ſup⯑port of a numerous offspring, by taking in waſhing, and ſometimes going to gen⯑tlemens [2] houſes, where ſhe was employed in the ſame occupation. I ſhall confine myſelf alone to our heroine's adventures, without mentioning any thing of the other children, whoſe hiſtories contain little be⯑ſides the common incidents of life.

She was born in the year 1743, and na⯑ture ſeemed to have centered all perfec⯑tions in her. In proportion as ſhe grew up in years, ſhe appeared ſenſible of her charms, and on that account aſſumed a ſuperiority over the reſt of her play-fel⯑lows. She was often heard to ſay, ‘Such ugly creatures as they, are not fit to keep company with ſo pretty a girl as me.’ This her parents beheld with pain; and as they feared ſhe would one day or other become the diſgrace of their family, they endeavoured as much as they could to inculcate in her a more humble opinion of herſelf. Their care was, how⯑ever, entirely fruitleſs, as the event ſhew⯑ed; for, at twelve years old, ſhe plainly told them, that the menial offices, in which ſhe was employed at home, were too much below her, who hoped, in time, to be raiſ⯑ed much above the abject condition ſhe [3] was then in. They then employed threats, and oftentimes the ſevereſt corrections, but all to no purpoſe. She was always idle, and uſed to ſpend whole hours in admir⯑ing herſelf in the glaſs. She was never better pleaſed than when ſhe heard her beauty commended; and had even vanity enough to think that ſhe ſurpaſſed all her ſex in the luſtre of her charms. It was indeed reported, that before ſhe had at⯑tained her fifteenth year, a young farmer had debauched her: certain it is, how⯑ever, that ſhe was obſerved ſome time af⯑ter to grow remarkably big about the waiſt; and ſhe was taxed very cloſely by her father and mother thereupon; but ſhe always denied it, till a few months after, not being any longer able to conceal her pregnancy, ſhe owned ſhe was with child by a ſhoemaker, who uſed to be frequent⯑ly at her parents houſe. The time came, and ſhe was delivered of a fine boy; and the father promiſing to take proper care of it, as ſoon as her month was up, ſhe was ordered to leave her father's houſe, and repair to London, they being reſolv⯑ed to ſhew her no farther countenance.

[4]She ſet out from Tunbridge with a heart filled with joy at ſeeing herſelf at liberty; and though her finances were very low, yet ſhe was not at all uneaſy, as ſhe flat⯑tered herſelf they would ſoon be increaſed on her arrival at her journey's end. The morning ſhe left Tunbridge, the waggon alſo went away for London, and ſhe over⯑taking it, prevailed on the driver of it to let her now and then get up to eaſe her in her walk, her little ſtock of money not being ſufficient to intitle her to a place in it; and in this manner ſhe reached Lon⯑don alone with the waggon. Being ar⯑rived in this great city, her next thoughts were what ſhe ſhould do for her ſupport. It was not long before ſhe accidentally met, one day, with Mrs. JAMES, who ex⯑claims, ‘Lord bleſs me, NANNY, do not you know me? For heaven's ſake what brought you here?’ Miſs ELLIOT'S a⯑ſtoniſhment at hearing herſelf called by her name, by a perſon entirely unknown to her, proceeded to interrogate the ſtran⯑ger, in what manner ſhe became acquaint⯑ed with her. The old woman told her, that ſhe herſelf formerly lived in the ſame town where Miſs ELLIOT was born, and [5] that ſhe had left the country ſhortly after her birth: ſhe then took our heroine home with her, and inviting her to dinner, which the other readily accepted of, ſhe promiſed to put her in a way of living in a very genteel manner, provided ſhe would fol⯑low her advice, which Miſs ELLIOT pro⯑miſed to do in every particular

This ſage matron was well known in the chaſte pariſh of Covent-garden: ſhe had paid, for many ſucceſſive years, houſe⯑rent, taxes, and huſh-money, with the greateſt honour and punctuality. She was therefore in high repute among thoſe of the ſame trade, and her ſhop was more frequented by the bucks of the town than any other in that neighbourhood. She re⯑joiced at having met with ſo divine a crea⯑ture as Miſs ELLIOT, and ſhe reſolved to make a great advantage of her. She told her the way of life ſhe was engaged in, and finding that her pupil's inclination for the ſame calling perfectly coincided with her views, ſhe bid her be of good heart, for that ſhe was born to great fortune; and adviſed her withal inviolably to obſerve what ſhe was going to ſay to her; which [6] the other, with repeated aſſurances, told her ſhe would not fail to perform.

Miſs ELLIOT liſtened to this narrative with the utmoſt attention; thanked her friend for the excellent inſtructions con⯑tained in it, which ſhe promiſed to render, by every means, conducive to the ſame purpoſes ſhe now ſo happily experienced. She was ſo deeply affected with every par⯑ticular of Mrs. JAMES'S ſtory, that ſhe determined on adopting ſuch a plan of future operation.

Miſs ELLIOT'S friend ſoon recommend⯑ed her to one Mr. THOMPSON, a gentle⯑man who frequented the houſe, and who [13] was ſo ſtruck with her beauty and tran⯑ſcendent charms, that he declared he had never ſeen ſo amiable a young woman be⯑fore. Her new lover, after having kept her company ſome weeks, during which time he uſed to come every other day to viſit her, was forced to be abſent for ſome months. During this interval Mrs. JAMES brought her acquainted with an old gentleman called Mr. BROWN, who appeared charmed with her perſon and accompliſhments, and ſhe gladly accepted his propoſals, though ſhe expreſſed the inconvenience that would attend her being diſcovered by the unexpected arrival of another gentleman, to whom ſhe was en⯑gaged, but who happened at that time to be out of town.

This new lover was poſſeſſed of a great fortune in Jamaica, to which were added the ſtricteſt probity and the niceſt ſenti⯑ments of honour; in ſhort he merited the much proſtituted name of gentleman. He provided her elegant lodgings, and every thing elſe ſuitable to the wife of a noble⯑man. He viſited her almoſt every day, [14] and frequently uſed to ſup with her at her own lodgings. He was ſo very polite, that if any thing prevented his going to ſee her, he would ſend to let her know, that ſhe might not wait for him to no purpoſe. He grew ſo fond of her, that having laid aſide all ſuſpicion of her being able to be in love with any other man, he one day ſent Monſieur PAPILLOTTE, his French hair dreſſer, with a letter to her, intimating that he would ſee her the fol⯑lowing day. A ſhort time, however, prov⯑ed that he was greatly overſeen in hav⯑ing ſuch a perſon for a meſſenger between him and his miſtreſs.

PAPILLOTTE might be reckoned a hand⯑ſome fellow, and there was a tolerable eaſe in his addreſs. He delivered his meſ⯑ſage in ſo handſome a manner, that Miſs ELLIOT began to think him very capable of ſupplying the place of his maſter.

We may ſuppoſe from Miſs ELLIOT'S amorous diſpoſition, and irreſiſtible paſſion for variety, that the chief reaſon of her taking a liking to this fellow, was her having been confined to Mr. BROWN for [15] ſome time; the natural inconſtancy of her temper getting the aſcendant, and diſ⯑poſing her to change for another, though of inferior accompliſhments.

Obſerving that Monſieur PAPILLOTTE, after delivering his meſſage, was prepar⯑ing to take his leave with, a low bow, ſhe told him ſhe had ſomething to aſk him about Mr. BROWN, and deſired him to ſit down, which, after a modeſt excuſe, he did. When he was ſeated, ſhe drew her chair near his, and informing him, that ſhe feared Mr. BROWN was inconſtant, aſked him how he thought a woman ſhould behave to an inconſtant lover? He anſwer⯑ed, in that caſe he would deſerve to ex⯑perience the like infidelity from his miſ⯑treſs. By this ſhe perceived that PAPIL⯑LOTTE underſtood her meaning, but in order to enforce it the more, ſhe added, ‘Surely, Mr. PAPILLOTTE, you ſpeak of inconſtancy as a thing pardonable in our ſex, as well as in your own.’ ‘With⯑out doubt, Madam,’ replied he, ‘it is juſt de ſame ting; why ſhou'd de gentilhomme have any privilege dat is deny to de lady?’

[16]Things fell out in ſuch a manner, that the Monſieur had very good reaſons for not informing Mr. BROWN of the con⯑verſation that paſſed between them. But they repeated not long their ſtolen joys, before they were detected by Mr. BROWN; for one day, having taſted joys too fierce to laſt for ever, they indolently repoſ⯑ed, reclining on each other; Miſs EL⯑LIOT'S keeper came in, and no ſooner ſaw them in ſuch a poſture, then he fell upon Monſieur, kicked him round the room, and then down ſtairs. Having recollected himſelf a little, he ſignified to the lady, that it was his reſolution to abandon her, and preſenting her with a bank note of fifty pounds, left her once more to ſeek her fortune in the wide world.

Being thus abandoned by her keeper, Miſs ELLIOT'S only reſourſe was to ply the ſtreets for cuſtomers, as ſhe was not in a humour of going back to her for⯑mer landlady, Mrs. JAMES, who ſhe knew would not approve of her conduct. While ſhe continued in this courſe of life, which grew very irkſome to her, ſhe was one day met in the park by one who ap⯑peared [17] to be a gentlemen by his dreſs, but who in reality was no other than a French valet; who, having found means to rob his maſter to a conſiderable amount, had made his eſcape from Paris, and paſſed in London for a nobleman, under the title of the Marquis de MARIVEAUX. This re⯑ſpectable perſonage, whoſe finances, by ex⯑travagant living, were reduced to a very low ebb, had long endeavoured to retrieve his ruined circumſtances, by marrying ſome young lady of fortune, now flatter⯑ed himſelf, that fortune, had at length thrown in his way the very perſon he ſought for, and accordingly ſaluting her very reſpectfully, deſired leave to wait upon her to a bench, where he begged ſhe would indulge him ſo far as to hear a very hono⯑rable propoſal he deſired to make to her. NANCY, hoping great advantage would ac⯑crue to her from this interview, conſented; and Monſieur very politely handed her to a ſeat, where, having placed himſelf by her, he talked to her in the following terms:

‘I am, Madam, the ſon of a gentleman of conſiderable fortune in Paris. My [18] father is the king's banker, and I en⯑joy an income equal to the rank I hold in the world. I was obliged to fly from my native country in conſequence of a duel which I fought with a young count, whoſe ſiſter, for whom I had a ſincere love, had given her hand to ano⯑ther, in compliance to her brother's will, notwithſtanding ſhe had ſworn ne⯑ver to be the wife of any other man than myſelf. To be ſhort, Madam, I ſlew my antagoniſt, and immediately went home, told my father what had happened; he adviſed me to leave France directly, and having a poſt chaiſe, I arrived in 48 hours at Calais, where, finding the packet boat ready to ſail, I embarked, and landed at Dover in about four hours, from whence I pur⯑ſued my journey, poſt, to London. I endeavoured to forget my misfortunes, and have ſucceeded tolerably well; and the better to ſecure to myſelf a laſting tranquillity of mind, I have reſolved to marry the firſt agreeable lady who will condeſcend to liſten to my addreſſes, as the moſt effectual means of enjoying that happineſs which I have been ſo [19] long a ſtranger to. Deign therefore, charming Miſs, to accept of this tender of my love, and allow me a place a⯑mongſt your numberleſs admirers.’

Miſs ELLIOT heard him with the great⯑eſt attention, not interrupting him once all the time he was ſpeaking: when he had ended his diſcourſe, ſhe told him, that the ſubject of his converſation was too im⯑portant to admit of a haſty determination, and therefore begged ſhe might be allow⯑ed ſome time to conſider of what he pro⯑poſed to her. This requeſt was ſo rea⯑ſonable, that he was under an abſolute ne⯑ceſſity of complying with it, and ſhe having given him her addreſs, they parted.

Our heroine, who was as much deceiv⯑ed in her new acquaintance as he could poſſibly be in her, ruminated with her⯑ſelf, how ſhe ſhould reap moſt advan⯑tage from her intimacy with him. One afternoon, as ſhe ſat reading in her dining room, ſhe heard a loud knocking at the door; and, preſently after, the maid came to tell her, that a foreign gentleman's ſer⯑vant waited below with a meſſage to de⯑liver [20] to her from his maſter. Miſs EL⯑LIOT ordered her to ſhow him up ſtairs directly; and at his entrance he acquaint⯑ed her, ‘That his maſter, the Marquis de MARIVEAUX, deſired the favour of permiſſion to pay his reſpects to her, which he ſhould eſteem equally a plea⯑ſure and an honour.’

This polite meſſage made Miſs ELLIOT'S countenance glow with vanity; but being then in an undreſs, ſhe returned for an⯑ſwer, ‘that ſhe ſhould be proud of the honour of ſeeing the Marquis the next morning.’

He accordingly came between eleven and twelve the next day; and the firſt complimentary ſalutations being over, they entered into diſcourſe as freely as though they had known each other for many years. After ſome time ſpent in this man⯑ner he took his leave, deſiring the favour of being permitted to renew his viſit an⯑other opportunity; and ſhe in return aſ⯑ſured him, that ſhe ſhould always look on it as doing her a very great honour. [21] He then politely withdrew, leaving his charmer vaſtly exhilerated at the pleaſure of receiving a viſit from ſo accompliſhed a gentleman.

The pretended Marquis was of a very amorous complexion, and had met with pretty good ſucceſs among the ladies; though having never been in London be⯑fore, he had not found any opportunity of engaging in intrigues. From his conver⯑ſation with Engliſh gentlemen, he had ac⯑quired a tolerable knowledge of the tongue, and could converſe on moſt topics pretty freely.

To theſe accompliſhments, if an exqui⯑ſite knowledge of play be added, eſpecial⯑ly of the ſharping part, to which he now owed his chief ſupport, it will be eaſily perceived that he was very well qualified to make a faſhionable appearance in the world, to undertake any ſcheme how ever imprudent or preſumptuous.

At his firſt viſit he plainly ſaw that ſhe was alſo a forune-hunter like himſelf, though of a different kind; and as the [22] fortune of a gameſter is very precarious, he reſolved to keep her company, hoping to convert to his own uſe what her other lovers beſtowed on her with ſo great pro⯑fuſion.

Miſs ELLIOT, who had penetration e⯑nough to ſee that ſhe appeared very agree⯑able in the eyes of the Marquis, took an opportunity, one evening when he was at ſupper with her, to enter into diſcourſe concerning love, and thereupon aſked him, "What he thought of the Engliſh la⯑dies?" He anſwered, ‘that the chief part of thoſe he had ſeen, were ſo very beautiful as not to be equalled in the world; but he had hitherto been ſo un⯑fortunate as never to be engaged in com⯑pany with any beſides herſelf, otherwiſe he certainly ſhould have loſt his heart.’

‘Oh! Sir, anſwered ſhe, if our Engliſh beauties are ſo engaging, and your heart ſo ready to be diſpoſed of, I think I have a prior claim to it.’ Monſieur ſeemed charmed with this repartee; and Miſs promiſed herſelf mighty advantages from his aquaintance, inſomuch that, [23] warmed with wine, they mutually agreed to ſacrifice to Venus as to Bacchus; and the amorous enconter was ſo ſpirited on both ſides, the firſt night, that they deter⯑mined to paſs a ſecond together before they parted.

Though Miſs ELLIOT neither demanded, nor received any pecuniary reward at this interview, ſhe vainly flattered herſelf ſhe ſhould be taken into keeping by the Mar⯑quis, and entertained in a manner agree⯑able to his preſent pompous appearance; but thoſe hopes were ſoon baniſhed; for the preſumptuous MARRIVEAUX, not only arrogated to himſelf a title to be rewarded for his ſervices, but, on her denial, availed himſelf of an opportunity of paying him⯑ſelf the wages he thought his due.

His miſtreſs indeed began to ſuſpect the fallacy of his apparent dignity; yet ſhe was ſo pleaſed with him as a gallant, that ſhe denied not her embraces whenever it was convenient, though ſhe now found a way to be introduced to the beſt company in town.

[24]Amongſt other valuable things ſhe poſ⯑ſeſſed, ſhe had been preſented by Mr. BROWN with a very fine brilliant ſoli⯑taire, valued at two hundred guineas (the price of one night's lodging), which ſhe generally wore about her neck, tied to a black ribbon: on this the noble Marquis had fixed his eye, and laid many ſchemes to get it in his poſſeſſion, till the follow⯑ing at length ſucceeded: in the fondeſt moment of dalliance, under pretence of kiſſing her ſnowy boſom, he made ſhift to bite the ſolitaire from the ribbon as it hung about her neck, without her perceiv⯑ing the fraud, and fold it to a jeweller in the city, who looked upon MARIVEAUX as a nobleman, ſince he bore the title, and maintained the appearance of one.

But the event proved, that the artful Frenchman was deceived in his prize; for having dreſſed himſelf one day in his gai⯑eſt apparel in order to viſit an Engliſh lady of character and fortune, juſt as he was ſtepping into his chariot (a waiting job), he was arreſted for one hundred and twenty pounds, at the ſuit of the jeweller abovementioned.

[25]To the occaſion of this arreſt he was an abſolute ſtranger; but he was obliged to ſubmit to it, and go to the houſe of a bailiff; where, on ſending for the plaintiff, he was ſurpriſed to find that he was ar⯑reſted for a fraud; and the ſolitaire, which he told the jeweller coſt two hundred gui⯑neas, and ſold for one hundred and twenty at ſecond hand, aſſuring it on his honour to be brilliant, was only an ex⯑cellent paſte.

This intelligence ſtruck him to the heart; and he was more concerned to find he had been impoſed on, than to recollect the fraud in his own intention.—Here it will be neceſſary to explain this myſtery.

Moſt of Miſs ELLIOT'S acquaintance knew ſhe was poſſeſſed of this valuable jewel, which want of caſh, for immediate purpoſes, obliged her to part with; and deſiring to conceal her neceſſity from her friends, ſhe had agreed with an ingenious lapidary to make one of paſte for her, which reſembled the real diamond as much as poſſible: it was this that MARIVEAUX [26] had artfully ſtolen from her, and after⯑wards ignorantly ſold it for that which it was only the repreſentation of.

He was no ſooner at liberty than he ac⯑cidentally met his Dulcinea, who branded him with the odious titles of impoſtor, villain, ſharper, and every other oppro⯑brious appellation that female rage could poſſibly ſuggeſt: in conſequence of which, Monſ. le Marquis became the butt of general ridicule, and was pointed at every⯑where, as, what he really he was, a French ſharper.

This induced him to change the ſcene of action, by removing to Bath, but he was ſoon exploded there, and treated with that contempt ſuch inſolent pretenders to merit and dignity juſtly deſerve.

Miſs ELLIOT'S fame now grew daily, inſomuch that ſhe was invited to frequent Mr. Brown's, near Pallmall, a houſe to which none reſort but ladies of the firſt rank, and ſuch gentlemen who pay very liberally for their entertainment. Here ſhe has been honoured with a téte a téte con⯑verſation [27] with ſome of the firſt rank, who have thought themſelves happy in her arms, preſſing her panting boſom, taſting the ambroſial ſweets that exhaled from her coral lips, and diſſolving in theſe extaſies which tranſcend all deſcription, and can only be fully perceived by the moſt ex⯑quiſite ſenſation. Nor was ſhe inattentive to the benefits, which, on due obſervance, reſult from the beſt company; ſhe acquir⯑ed the art of ſaying a great deal with very little meaning; of obſerving a due diſtance between the heart and the tongue; of paſ⯑ſing a double entendre with a good grace; and, in a word, of caſting the veil of am⯑biguity over all her words and actions.

Hence ſhe was adapted to the differ⯑ent tempers and diſpoſitions of the ſtu⯑dents who frequent this ſeminary of Ve⯑nus, and could turn their ſeveral inclinations and peculiarities to her own emolument.

Among the reſt of the company, none vſited her oftner, or paid her more libe⯑rally than Lord T—, who, though emaciated by a life of exceſs in every ener⯑vating pleaſure, always fixed his eye on [28] the moſt blooming girl, and coveted the ſociety of thoſe moſt, whom, in a ſenſual view, he could leaſt gratify. However, he always made up his defect in one point by his profuſion in another; and was therefore looked on a very valuable ac⯑quaintance.

It happened one evening, as his lord⯑ſhip was drinking tea with Miſs ELLIOT, at her lodgings, a loud knock was heard at the door, and the maid, after going down, came up and informed her it was Captain F—t—ue, who deſired immedi⯑ately to ſee her.

The Captain, who received his title from being honoured with a company in the guards, had very little more than his com⯑miſſion to maintain him; and therefore though he wanted not the will of compenſat⯑ing the favours of a fine woman, he wanted the power. Our heroine was in a dilemma how to proceed in the caſe: however, as the preſent ſituation of affairs did not ad⯑mit of long deliberation, ſhe ſent down her compliments and deſired to ſee him af⯑ter the opera at the houſe of Mrs. Brown.

[29]Such is the infatuation of amorous pro⯑penſity in dotards, that the old Lord would by no means part with his choice piece till the hour in which ſhe appointed to meet the Captain; when relying on the folly and weakneſs of the moſt ſenſible and experi⯑enced of men where female charms are concerned, ſhe abruptly inſiſted upon his lordſhip's abſence at that time, as ſhe had upon her hands an indiſpenſable engage⯑ment. Lord T—departed in a rage, declaring that ſhe had received the laſt fa⯑vour from him; but his attachment to her ſoon compelled him to renew his viſits.

Having delivered herſelf from the irk⯑ſome fondling of an impotent letcher, ſhe haſtened to the embraces of youth. ul vi⯑gour, and made one of a brilliant aſſembly that evening, where ſhe had the ſatisfaction of being taken notice of by a young no⯑bleman, who having attained the long wiſhed-for term of twenty one, and being in poſſeſſion of a large eſtate, was deter⯑mined to have the handſomeſt miſtreſs that could be met with; and for that reaſon rejoiced at this fortunate rencounter.

[30]Miſs ELLIOT, whoſe perſon and diſpo⯑ſition were entirely formed for a lady of pleaſure, and who was remarkable for ne⯑ver remaining long in one place, without gaining a particular admirer, could not fail of engaging the heart of Sir THOMAS—, who from that time took her into keeping.

He hired her a houſe near St. James's ſquare, where they lived in great ſplendor. She frequented all the public places, ſome⯑times with her keeper, and ſometimes with a female acquaintance, for ſhe was ac⯑quainted with ſeveral, who were all of her own profeſſion. She had ſeveral fro⯑lics in gallantry unknown to Sir THOMAS, who did not confine himſelf to her alone, but frequently paſſed an evening with ſome other lady of his acquaintance. It was certainly noble and generous in him to in⯑dulge his miſtreſs, while he did ſo him⯑ſelf, as well as acting perfectly conform⯑able to the golden rule.

[31]Miſs ELLIOT took care to make good uſe of her liberty; and, for frolic's ſake, would ſometimes diſguiſe herſelf in boy's cloaths, and in that habit go into public places. Thus dreſſed, ſhe had the air of a complete petit maitre; and with the greateſt eaſe imaginable aſſumed their tone and manner. Happening to go to the opera one evening, ſhe met with a young muſqueteer, who wore a gold laced hat with a white feather in it, and was dreſſed in a ſuit of white and gold. He ſeemed ſtruck with her perſon; and both before the curtain was drawn up, and between the acts, addreſſed himſelf to her with an affected air of politeneſs. The piece be⯑ing ended, he invited her to his lodg⯑ings, where they had not been long, be⯑fore by ſome accident or other, he became acquainted with her ſex: however, he was far from availing himſelf of this diſcovery, according to her expectations; ſhe ſoon found that he was one of thoſe fribbles, who have neither power nor ſpirit to en⯑joy what conſtitutes the chief pleaſure of the more manrly part of the creation.

[32]Of this inſignificant race there are many who profe [...]s the higheſt c [...]tempt for women, and are enamoured of their dear ſelves alone; yet in deſpiſing women they may be ſaid to deſpiſe themſelves, as ſeemingly they want nothing but the dreſs to be complete females; yet deſpicable as theſe beings are, there are too many of them in this great metropolis.

Miſs ELLIOT had not long lived in this round of pleaſures, before a period was put to them by the death of Sir Thomas, who was killed in a duel by a French gentleman, whom he had pro⯑voked by aſſerting the ſuperiority of the Engliſh over the French, in point of government and political adminiſtration.

She was afterwards kept by a Dutch merchant, whoſe conſtant jealouſy was altogether inſupportable to her; and the confined manner in which ſhe lived with him, made her regret the liberty ſhe had enjoyed even at a bagnio. Though he had nothing engaging in him, ſhe was under a neceſſity of being true to him, as ſhe [33] dreaded his furious temper, ſhould he de⯑tect her in an affair with any other perſon. She therefore reſolved on leaving him as ſoon as fortune ſhould throw ſome other more agreeable lover in her way.

Miſs ELLIOT, whoſe charms were too engaging to ſuffer her to remain long without a lover, ſoon found one, who ex⯑cepting the deficiency of the one thing neceſſary, viz. a large fortune, was en⯑dued with every qualification capable of rendering any woman completely bleſt. This gentleman's name was M—y: he was about thirty, genteel both in his per⯑ſon and addreſs. He became ſo paſſion⯑ately fond of Miſs ELLIOT, that every hour which was not ſpent in her company was to him an age: her vivacity and na⯑tural good breeding had inſpired him with an irreſiſtable paſſion for her: he indul⯑ged her in every thing that could pamper female pride, or inſlame her vanity. Her new keeper being an actor at one of the theatres, ſhe conſtantly frequented the playhouſe, 'till at length ſhe began to en⯑tertain a conceit of her dramatic talents, and being not a little humoured in the [34] ſame by her acquaintance, ſhe determined to apply herſelf to the ſtudy of acting, in order to ſubmit her capacity to the deter⯑mination of the managers.

To qualify herſelf for the arduous taſk, ſhe attended particularly to the manner, action, and emphaſis uſed by the moſt celebrated performers in their capital parts; and as ſoon as ſhe returned home, would repeat the moſt ſtriking paſſages, and en⯑deavour to imitate what ſhe had juſt ſeen repreſented. Her keeper alſo aſſiſted in perfecting her for this new undertaking; and he ſucceeded ſo well, that ſhe at laſt became one of the moſt eminent in her profeſſion: and the part of MARIA, in the c [...]rated farce THE CITIZEN, was wrote on purpoſe for her, which ſhe filled with a degree of applauſe fearce ever beſtowed on any ſtage heroine.

But to proceed regularly. When ſhe imagined ſhe had ſufficiently qualified her⯑ſelf, and had received the advice of thoſe ſhe thought proper to conſult on the oc⯑caſion, ſhe determined to offer herſelf to the manager or one of the theatres. Ac⯑cordingly [35] ſhe attended at his houſe for a whole week together, without being able to gain admittance; inſomuch, that having loſt many opportunities of getting money in her ſtared employ, ſhe had almoſt reſolved to give up all thoughts of appearing on the ſtage, after meeting with ſo many difficul⯑ties in arriving at the preſence of the mana⯑ger, before ſhe could be examined concern⯑ing her real merit; adding to this, the little hope there was of being engaged when ſo many had been already rejected. But ſhe was diverted from this reſolution by Mr. M—y, who informed her, that theſe were obſtacles of a very triſling na⯑ture, in compariſon with thoſe ſhe had to ſurmount; and that many had attended for ſucceſſive years, and having been at length received, the conſequent advan⯑tages had abundantly retaliated all their pains and patience.

At length, however, ſhe obtained a hearing from Mr. G—k of Drury-Lane play houſe; but, after rehearſing ſeveral ſpeeches, was complimented on her figure, and promiſing talents, and then diſmiſſed with a formal expreſſion of concern, that [36] his company was complete at preſent, and therefore he had no occaſion for any addi⯑tional performer; yer, if he could find any opening for her the next ſeaſon, ſhe might depend on an engagement.

Thus diſappointed in her firſt applica⯑tion, ſhe repaired to one of the managers of the other houſe, and was informed, that he could not act without the concurrence of the other proprietors, and as it re⯑quired ſome time to lay her caſe before them, he muſt beg her to wait the deter⯑mination till next week. At the expira⯑tion of the appointed time, ſhe attended, and, to her great joy, was received at a ſalary of four pounds per week.

During the prevalence of her inclinati⯑on, to the drama, ſhe became acquainted with ſeveral ladies of the profeſſion, who looked on her, as one in training to com⯑poſe their ſociety. She ſoon diſcovered, by the drift of their converſation, that many of them were not ſupported by their ſalaries, and that the principal deſign in coming on the ſtage, was not ſo much for obtaining the income they were paid, as [37] from the proſpect of procuring a keeper: ſeveral were already on this footing, and thoſe whoſe ſucceſs had not been equal, made a virtue of neceſſity, and railed at thoſe they envied, becauſe they were more fortunate in their face, and, its conſe⯑quence, a lover.

This diſcovery was a farther conſolation to her; and ſhe rejoiced, that in a theatrical life, there was no neceſſity of giving up her gallantry; nor did ſhe long want a confir⯑mation of it, being addreſſed on that ſcore by a young gentleman of rank, dignity, and every other attracting qualification.

Mr. M—y, whoſe circumſtances (as has been already obſerved) were ſuch as would not allow him to anſwer her fre⯑quent pecuniary demands on him, eaſily conſented to her entertaining this new lover, provided ſhe did not refuſe to ſuf⯑fer him alſo, ſometimes, to partake of her favours.

Mr. P-lm-r was ſo enamoured of our heroine, that his prevailing paſſion, was to gratify her moſt darling inclinations; [38] and he ſeemed to live but in her ſmiles; yet ſo prevalent was her diſpoſition for ſhifting ſcenes in life, that a new object ſoon engroſſed her attention, and induced her to treat this generous lover with the utmoſt ingratitude.

Captivated with the elegant form and melodious voice of a certain ſinger at the opera-houſe, ſhe admitted him to ſuch li⯑berties, even in the preſence of Mr. P—l—m—r, as could not fail of giving him high diſguſt, and ſoon proved the cauſe of their ſeparation. Thus abandoned by this gen⯑tlemen, to indulge her natural propenſity, ſhe cohabited ſome time with her muſical acquaintance, who found means to ſtrip her of what ſhe had procured during her connexion with him, and afterwards left her to provide for herſelf.

During her acquaintance with this Ita⯑lian, ſhe had often made a party at cards at a certain houſe not far from Covent-Garden, where ſhe added to her know⯑ledge thoſe arts by which the worthleſs live with apparent ſplendor, and the inex⯑perienced are trapanned, to their utter [39] deſtruction. The hoſteſs of this virtuous manſion had long borne the ſway in the liſt of wine-bibbers, and outvied all the bawds in the metropolis in drunkenneſs, obſcenity, and blaſphemy. Here ſhe be⯑came acquainted with a noted gameſter, and her adventures with him were very ſingular. He was a fellow of moſt diſſo⯑lute morals, and one of the many in this town, who, under the maſk of gentility, ruin the unexperienced and unwary, by their premeditated fraud and villainy: ſhe was recommended to him, as one whoſe perſonal charms might be advan⯑tageous to both.

He jumped at the hint, and a meeting was appointed: The old lady of the houſe preſided, and propoſed, that what⯑ever they earned in their reſpective occu⯑pations, ſhould become a joint ſtock, and be reſerved for their mutual demands and exigencies. The propoſal was readily a⯑greed to by both parties, who, after taking a chearful glaſs with their old friend, re⯑paired to a lodging provided by Mr. C—rke the gameſter. After a good ſup⯑per, it was deliberated between them, what [40] ſteps Miſs ELLIOT ſhould purſue; and Mr. C—rke, profeſſing the ſincereſt regard for his amiable companion, and lament⯑ing the low ebb of his finances, which pre⯑vented the ſtrongeſt proofs of his paſſion, offered to recommend her to the chief wait⯑er at the beſt houſe in the garden; expreſs⯑ing, at the ſame time, how diſagreeable it was to him to act ſo mean a part, as that of pimp to a pimp; but that neceſſity had no law, and it was prudent ſome times to hold a candle to the devil.

Having taken this reſolution, they went to bed, plighted vows of fidelity, and, af⯑ter many endearing carreſſes, and a hearty repoſe, awoke in the morning, fully de⯑termined to put their plan in execution. Accordingly they adjourned about duſk to the place appointed, called for the waiter, and invited him to ſit down, and take ſhare of the claret he had brought in.

Jack, who knew his buſineſs, behaved with great respect to Mr. C—rke, nor would he, till after much preſſing, be per⯑ſwaded to take the liberty of drinking the [41] lady's good health. When at the impor⯑tunity of them both he was ſeated, Mr. C—rke, with a heavy ſigh, thus addreſſed him; ‘Ah! honeſt Jack, is not that an exquiſite piece? What an eye! What a ſkin! What a panting ſnowy boſom! Sure I am the moſt unfortunate fellow on earth, to love this peerleſs woman to diſtraction—but an unlucky run at play lately, and the confounded mar⯑riage nooſe, prevent me from teſtifying the exceſs of my affection: therefore, Jack, if you would win my heart for ever, take her under your care, uſe her as ſhe deſerves; ſhe would grace the arms of an emperor, and will do you honour; therefore be cautious in your recommendations, ſhe is not for vulgar palates, nor will ever condeſcend to grant her favours but on very valuable conſiderations.’

"Sir," anſwered the waiter, ‘I take her at your recommendation, and will do as well by her as you can deſire; I expect a conſtant cuſtomer of mine to-morrow night; indeed, neither his purſe nor appearance are adequate to [42] the deſert of women of the firſt claſs in my liſt. He never gives more than two guineas; but then the girls tell me it is for doing nothing; beſides, Sir Tho. S—and Col. D—gl—s are part of his company. They are good men, and worthy the favour of the ladies, I aſſure you; and if you approve of it, I'll introduce you, madam, to morrow night.’

Miſs ELLIOT ſignified her conſent by her ſilence, and the gameſter by an hear⯑ty acknowledgment of the favour; after which, having finiſhed the ſecond bottle, they departed highly pleaſed with their fu⯑ture proſpect of ſucceſs.

The next day means were concerted between them for procuring a proper dreſs for our heroine to appear in at night; after much ſtudy, to little purpoſe, Mr. C—rke propoſed to pledge his watch, which would enable her to redeem her own, with other neceſſaries for the ap⯑proaching ſcene.

[43]Accordingly the money advanced, and what Mr. C—rke had beſides, equip⯑ped Miſs ELLIOT very elegantly, and raiſed their hopes of a very ſucceſsful ad⯑venture: nor were they diſappointed, for the lady wrought ſo effectually on the three old letchers, Sir Tho. S—, Col. D—gl—s, and lord R—hf—d, that an e⯑mulation was excited amongſt them to obtain the aſcendency in her favour, and each ſtrove to excel in point of promiſes. As theſe old gentlemen were peculiar in their diſpoſitions, a ſketch of their cha⯑racters may not be unacceptable.

Sir Tho. S— was born to an im⯑menſe fortune; but through an inceſſant devotion, during a conſiderable number of years, to Bacchus and Venus, the major part was exhauſted; and at length, when his conſtitution would no longer admit of his criminal indulgencies, he ſunk his laſt two thouſand in the funds, which pro⯑duced him an annuity of two hundred; but from his emaciated carcaſs, it was not to be ſuppoſed he could ever live to re⯑ceive half the ſum he had ſunk.

[44]Though he tottered at the age of forty-five, a handſome woman would bring a glow on his cheeks, and cauſe him to ex⯑hibit the ſhameleſs picture of inordinate deſire, combating with premature impo⯑tence, and curſing the former vehemence of his paſſion, which had brought on debility ſo long before its natural courſe. He was, in ſhort, a compoſition of ve⯑nery and ebriety, living but to gratify thoſe appetites common to men and brutes, ſtill coveting the company of the fineſt women merely to indulge the remem⯑brance of his paſt exceſſes.

Colonel D—gl—s was ſanguine in his attachment to the fair ſex, without ſuffer⯑ing them to engroſs his attention: he en⯑joyed life without abridging it by intem⯑perance; and though his deſires when young were very prevalent, he called in the aſſiſtance of the rational to check the wild ſallies of the animal. Hence he long reigned ths favourite of the women and envy of the men, till he gradually ſunk into years, and continued lively in diſpo⯑ſition, though feeble in body, at the age of ſeventy-two. He loved, however, in [45] his gayer hours to bill a little, and wiſely conſidering that his company could not be very agreeable to ſportive youth, gene⯑rouſly compenſated their trouble, which rendered him a deſirable acquaintance to female town adventurers.

Lord R—hf—d was robuſt at the age of ſixty, and capable of enjoying the careſ⯑ſes of a female charmer. His greateſt pleaſure was to ſacrifice to Venus; nor did he ſtick at any expence, to obtain a firſt rate beauty, who, when in his poſ⯑ſeſſion, could mould him as ſhe pleaſed, being extremely pliant in a female hand, though in other reſpects ſtern and reſolute.

Theſe are the characters to whom Miſs ELLIOT, according to Jack's promiſe, was introduced, as company moſt adapt⯑ed to anſwer her lucrative views. Not to dwell on the diſguſting theme of what paſſed between the enamoured dotards and the artful courtezan, it will ſuffice to remark, that as ſhe was engaged by prior contract to Sir Thomas S—, ſhe ſpent the evening in company with the de⯑bilitated fake, mortified the whole time, [46] with his nauſeous talk, and more inſup⯑portable behaviour.

Nor did Sir Thomas's engroſſing her till next morning cool the paſſion which Lord R—hf—d had conceived for her; he ſent for her the following evening to the ſame place, and having regaled her with a ve⯑ry elegant ſupper, paſſed the night with her in abundant delight, inſomuch that he took her into keeping, preſented her with an immoderate quantity of rich cloaths, and valuable jewels; ſo that few women appeared in public more elegantly dreſſed, nor was the taſte of any woman more applauded or imitated.

This lucky incident enabled her to ſupply Mr. C—ke with more than he could reaſonably demand; and the con⯑nexion between them was very artfully preſerved; for Miſs ELLIOT, too wiſe to truſt any ſervant with that, the knowledge of which always rendered them inſolent, as it gives them a power to injure a miſ⯑treſs in the moſt eſſential concern, carried on her intrigues by means of Jack, who conveyed her letters to Mr. C—rke, and [47] thereby obviated all poſſibility of detec⯑tion.

As ſhe reaped great advantages from this connexion, ſhe made Lord R—hf—d's will her pleaſure, and ſtudied by every en⯑dearing inſtance of behaviour to improve the eſteem he had conceived for her.

This conduct greatly redounded to her intereſt; for Lord R—hf—d, grateful in diſpoſition, and profuſely generous in love, was daily loading her with preſents, inſo⯑much, that notwithſtanding her diſburſe⯑ments to Mr. C—rke, whom ſhe now main⯑tained in ſplendor, ſhe amaſſed a very con⯑ſiderable ſum.

Thus ſhe paſſed about ſix months with Lord R—hf—d, till an imprudent ſtep oc⯑caſioned a ſeparation. His lordſhip went out of town, with intention, as was ſup⯑poſed, to ſtay a month. He had deter⯑mined to leave his charmer in London, leſt ſhe ſhould attract the notice of ſome other gentlemen younger than himſelf, and thereby endanger his loſs of what he deem⯑ed an invaluable poſſeſſion.

[48]As things were in this ſituation, and there was hardly cauſe for ſuſpicion of de⯑tection, our heroine ventured to Vauxhall with Mr. C—rke; but ill luck brought Lord R—hf—d there alſo. One of the very firſt objects that preſented itſelf to his lordſhip, amidſt ſo great a vari⯑ety, was his miſtreſs téte a téte with Mr. C—rke, uſing ſuch freedoms as were far from being agreeable, and gave him no little cauſe of uneaſineſs, as they did her of future repentance.

This unlucky accident ſtruck both Miſs ELLIOT and her favourite with amaze⯑ment and confuſion; they therefore im⯑mediately retired from the gardens, in or⯑der to conſult on the moſt probable means of averting Lord R—hf—d's reſentment. After much deliberation it was agreed, that ſhe ſhould haſten home, and anticipate his reproof, by aſſuring him of the conti⯑nuance of her eſteem and veneration for him; and deſiring that the late circumſtance might not be conſtrued as any deviation from the duty ſhe owed him, as ſhe was only in company with a firſt couſin, who [49] had inſiſted on attending her to Vaux⯑hall.

Miſs ELLIOT, purſant To this reſolu⯑tion, made all the haſte ſhe could home; and upon his lordſhip's arrival, notwith⯑ſtanding his ſtern contracted brow, thus addreſſed him, ‘My dear Lord, if your countenance be the index of your mind, ſomething hath much diſpleaſed you: I truſt it is not owing to any ſuſpicion of my being defective ei⯑ther in duty or love. If it is, permit me to aſſure you, that I retain the e⯑ſteem and veneration for you I have al⯑ways profeſſed, and that all jealouſy on account of ſeeing me at the gardens is groundleſs, as I was then in company with a firſt couſin, a married man, and perſon whom I never conſidered in any other light than as a friend and re⯑lation.’

To aggravate this misfortune, Lord Rmdash;hfmdash;d knew Cmdash;rke's infamous cha⯑racter, and had ſeen him kicked out of bil⯑liard-rooms, and tennis-courts, as a gambler [50] and ſharper; fired therefore with double reſentment at his miſtreſs's connexions with one of the vileſt of mankind, he at once upbraided her with the opprobious terms of whore, jilt, and liar; and or⯑dered her the next morning to quit his houſe.

After ſo ſevere a reprimand, ſhe endea⯑voured to appeaſe his anger, but finding that neither tears nor intreaty would pre⯑vail, ſhe retired to a ſeparate chamber and ſpent the night in ruminating on the diſ⯑mal conſequences that were likely to at⯑tend the imprudent conduct of herſelf and Mr. C—rke.

Lord R—hf—d no ſooner aroſe in the morning, than he ſent his man to call the faithleſs fair one before him. She came trembling into his preſence, and received her diſmiſſon in the following reproachful terms; ‘Ungrateful, deſpicable wretch, who haſt preferred the embraces of a villain, a branded ſcoundrel, to the eſteem of a man of honour, Be gone, with all thy guilt upon thy head, nor [51] dare, on the ſevereſt penalty, to ſet one foot hereafter on my threſhold. Take that bundle, which contains cloaths merely neceſſary; I will not proſtitute my valuable effects to deck a worthleſs woman, but keep them for one more deſerving of my favours.’

Finding her fate in this reſpect irre⯑vocable, her tears dried up, and the maſk of diſſimulation was removed; the true woman burſt into an immoderate ſit of laughter, and the parting ſcene con⯑cluded with her obſerving, that ſhe al⯑ways looked on my Lord as a fool, as well as every keeper, who expected a woman to be true to him, in ſpight of her intereſt or her paſſion; and, that to find a whore faithful to any other influence, was very difficult, if poſſible.

She then took her bundle, and went immediately to the tavern where her friend the waiter lived, and there met with Mr. C—rke, according to appointment. Here they regaled themſelves with a good din⯑ner, and affecting little concern about her loſs, paſſed ſome hours in recapitulating [52] the weakneſs and folly of Lord R—hfmdash;d, in being blinded by his paſſions, and pay⯑ing ſo dearly for what might be purchaſed at a much eaſier rate.

Miſs ELLIOT had cautiouſly concealed all the particulars of her diſmiſſion from Mr. C—rke; the latter therefore, being very anxious to know what prizes the former had ſecured, began immediately, on their arrival at their lodgings, to enquire con⯑cerning the manner in which ſhe intended to bring off her rich cloaths, jewels, and other valuable commodities; but great was his ſurprize when ſhe told him, with a dejected countenance, that his Lord⯑ſhip's knowledge of his life and character greatly added to his reſentment, and pre⯑vented her bringing off any thing of value, as he had ſecured all; and told her his property ſhould not be proſtituted to the uſe of ſcoundrels, pimps, and gamblers.

Thus deprived of the booty he expected, he began to look upon Miſs ELLIOT with great indifference, and would frequently upbraid her as being the occaſion of their appearing in public together, which had proved ſo fatal to them both.

[53]As ſhe had now no more cloaths than were neceſſary for a decent appearance, and he had a few days before loſt his laſt guinea at the hazard table, and therefore could not aſſiſt her in making a figure for polite company; C—rke began to enter⯑tain thoughts of contracting an acquain⯑tance with ſome woman, whoſe ſituation in life might render her more capable of anſwering his purpoſes, than Miſs Elliot was at preſent.

To promote this deſign, he viſited all places frequented by ladies of pleaſure, and being comely in perſon, and verſed in thoſe arts which prevail with women of weak minds, he ſoon ingratiated himſelf with a lady who was kept by an old cit at a very genteel allowance. This woman being exceſſively amorous, and her keeper very impotent, conferred her favours on ſeveral young fellows for value received, and was at that time infected with a certain popular diſtemper, which ſhe communica⯑ted to C—rke the very firſt time he was admitted to her embraces.

[54]As the connexion was not entirely broken off between him and Miſs ELLIOT, (for ſhe could as yet procure a trifle on her cloaths) ſhe partook of the preſent, and was at length convinced of the ſelf-in⯑tereſtedneſs of Mr. C—ke. When ſhe up⯑braided him with the diſingenuity of his conduct, inſtead of a due acknowledg⯑ment, he treated her with the utmoſt diſ⯑dain; told her to have no farther depen⯑dence on him; and packing up the few rags he had leſt, bounced out of the room, which he never more entered.

Thus did this ſcandal to humanity act entirely conſiſtent with his character; for, having lived upon a woman as long as ſhe could adminiſter to his idleneſs and vanity, he left her in circumſtances of the utmoſt diſtreſs, in the moſt deplorable ſituation, to which he had chiefly contributed to re⯑duce her.

She was now brought to the moſt per⯑plexing dilemma; ſhe not only wanted mo⯑ney, but cloaths, the moſt neceſſary ap⯑pendage of her profeſſion; nor could ſhe [55] take one ſtep to her advantage in her pre⯑ſent garb.

In this ſituation (M—y not being able to aſſiſt her) her only reſource was to apply to one of thoſe ladies called tally wo⯑men, in order to procure, at a moſt exor⯑bitant premium, the loan of part of her tawdry wardrobe: accordingly, ſhe bor⯑rowed of Mrs. LAMB a complete dreſs in the neweſt taſte, for which ſhe was to pay no more than a guinea per night.

Thus equipped, ſhe promiſed herſelf much ſucceſs; but as ſhe was not a new face upon the town, ſhe was much diſ⯑appointed in her expectations; for at the cloſe of the firſt adventure, ſhe could not muſter half the amount of her clothes hire. Hoping that the enſuing week would prove more fortunate, ſhe continued her contract with Mrs. LAMB, and was elegantly equipped every night; but that proved very little better than the former, inſomuch that ſhe became indebt⯑ed to this conſcientious lady upwards of nine guineas.

[56]According to the general cuſtom of theſe people, a note of hand was immediately demanded as a ſecurity for the debt, and the period ſhe had fixed for the payment expiring before ſhe was able to fulfil her promiſe, Mrs. Lamb, without giving any previous notice after the firſt demand, cauſed Miſs ELLIOT to be arreſted, and conducted to the Marſhalſea.

Here a new ſcene opened to her view, a ſcene which demonſtrated the fatal ef⯑fects of vice and folly: here were ſeveral ſhe had known before in the beau monde, ſome of whom were ſaid to be dead, others retired into the country, and others gone abroad.

In this forlorn ſituation, ſhe found her⯑ſelf under a neceſſity of making an ac⯑quaintance with ſome of the inhabitants of this immured manſion. As to the fe⯑male inmates, they were for the moſt part, like herſelf, ladies of pleaſure; who ha⯑ving in general loſt their credit, were thrown there in hopes ſome kind gentle⯑man, with more money than wit, would [57] pity and releaſe them from their confine⯑ment, by diſcharging their debts,

The morning after her arrival ſhe was waited on by a celebrated miſs, who, from bring a common proſtitute, had been ex⯑tolled for her wit and reading, becauſe ſhe had acquired a ſmattering of common-place quibbles, and a few ſentences of Latin, which ſhe frequently introduced without regard either to decency or pro⯑priety. This falſe reputation procured her a number of wealthy admirers, amongſt whom was an old dotard, who was ſo en⯑raptured with her that he adminiſtered to her moſt exhorbitant demands, and ſettled on her a very conſiderable annuity.

Notwithſtanding this extraordinary fond⯑neſs and generoſity, ſhe ſo rarely requited his favours, that at length, diſguſted with her behaviour, he eſtranged himſelf from her embraces and her company. Her ex⯑travagance and debauchery, though her annuity was regularly paid, compelled her to diſpoſe of it ſhortly after their ſepara⯑tion; and ſhe ſoon expended the money ariſing from it.

[58]Some of her creditors, being acquainted with the ſituation of her affairs, were in⯑duced to take poſſeſſion of ſuch effects as were in her power; and with that view brought an execution into the houſe. This ſtep being made public, thoſe of her cre⯑ditors who had received no ſatisfaction from her goods, reſolved to ſeize on her perſon; which they accordingly did, and depoſited it in this convenient receptacle.

Miſs ELLIOT was not ignorant of ſo remarkable a character; and therefore, af⯑ter a ſhort interview, diſmiſſed her, with many acknowledgments of her kindneſs, and promiſed, on the firſt leiſure, to re⯑turn the viſit.

Our heroine had not been many days confined before ſhe met with an old ac⯑quaintance, under the ſame circumſtances with herſelf: this was Mr. N—rth, who, thinking himſelf i [...]l uſed by the imperti⯑nent demands of his creditors, had deter⯑mined to puniſh their inſolence, by taking the benefit of the act of grace.

[59]Here was a plain proof of the meanneſs of ſoul of this pretended gentleman, who could condeſcend to ſuch low ſubter⯑fuges to evade the payment of his juſt debts, and ſubmit to the loſs of his repu⯑tation, and the publication of his name to all the world as a common cheat, in order to open a way for a renewal of his vil⯑lainies in ſome part where he was leſs known.

Thus, remote from the gayer ſcenes of life, ſhe had time to reflect on the miſe⯑ries, attending her profeſſion, and from which ſhe had now no poſſible view of being delivered. Being deſtitute of mo⯑ney, and every thing that could procure it; and Mr. M—y, who had intro⯑duced her to the ſtage, being unable to afford her the aſſiſtance ſhe required, ſhe ſent for Mrs. Lamb, remonſtrated with her on the folly of depriving her of all poſſibility of making her any compenſa⯑tion; and told her, that if ſhe would re⯑leaſe her from confinement, ſhe would re⯑ſign herſelf wholly to her diſpoſal, and ſubmit to any terms ſhe ſhould pleaſe to propoſe.

[60]This humble behaviour of Miſs ELLIOT induced her compaſſionate creditor to ſof⯑ten a little, ſo that her propoſal was com⯑plied with, and ſhe releaſed, after giving a promiſſary note to her benefactreſs, and therby devoting herſelf to the ſervice of a wretch loſt to virtue, juſtice, and hu⯑manity.

The unfortunate Miſs ELLIOT, in con⯑ſequence of the late favour ſhe received from Mrs. LAMB, became an abſolute ſlave to the moſt mercenary and abandon⯑ed of women; who had long lived on the wages of proſtitution, and was diſpoſed for the commiſſion of all that is vile and baſe, if it could adminiſter to her luxury and avarice. Being wholly dependent on her for board, lodging, and clothes, ſhe was treated in the moſt haughty and ſu⯑percilious manner, frequently threatened with being ſent back to her old lodging, and ſometimes bore the marks of her landlady's diſpleaſure.

Having; incurred a conſiderable debt and ſtanding very high in Mrs. LAMB'S [61] books, ſhe dreaded entering her lodgings at the cloſe of a night's incurſion without money; therefore, when ſhe met with no ſucceſs, ſhe would parade the ſtreets very late; which circumſtance added a new weight to her former woes. It unfortu⯑nately happened, that, walking the Strand on a ſearch night, ſhe was ſeized by a con⯑ſtable; and, notwithſtanding her remon⯑ſtrances, forced away to the round houſe. She now found herſelf under the diſagree⯑able neceſſity of paſſing the remainder of the night there, as ſhe was incapable of bribing the conſtable, who never objected to a genteel offer from the hands of an un⯑fortunate woman.

Our heroine, whoſe ſpirits were not the moſt eaſily dejected, was nevertheleſs ter⯑rified at this outrage, and gave vent to her grief in a ſlood of tears.

The humane conſtable, perceiving her concern, adviſed her to have ſomething to comfort her; and without waiting for her reply ſent for a bottle of wine.

She began to entertain ſome opinion of this officer's compaſſion, and readily ac⯑cepted [62] the glaſs he offered her, but was ſoon convinced that ſhe was to be treated at her own expence; for the man, who brought the wine, waited till ſhe paid him for it the laſt half crown ſhe had in the world.

She had now plucked up ſpirits ſuf⯑ficient to enquire, whether ſhe could not get a perſon to go and acquaint a friend with what had befallen her; but it being by this time paſt twelve, they pretended they could find no body to go till the men came off the watch.

While ſhe was lamenting her fate in being thus illegally confined, without be⯑ing guilty of the leaſt outrage, there was a knocking at the door of the round houſe, which at firſt elated her heart, hoping that her landlady might, from ſuſpicion of her being there, have ſent ſome perſon to her relief. But her joy was ſoon turned into ſorrow, for upon opening the door, her ears were ſaluted with a volley of oaths from an elderly lady; who, ſhe af⯑terwards underſtood, ſuſtained the ho⯑nourable character of a bawd. This good [63] lady did not come unattended; one of her nymphs, with whom ſhe had charged the watch for detaining her property by force, had in her turn charged her for breaking the peace, and forcibly entering her apartments.

After ſome wrangle between them, the conſtable told them, they had better ſet⯑tle matters over a bottle, as it would only tend to their mutual diſadvantage to go before the juſtice in the morning. The young lady readily agreed to have not only one bottle, but half a dozen, ſwearing, luſtily, however, ſhe would not let that old b—h cheat her in the manner ſhe had done.

In a ſhort time, the conſtable, the beadle, his wife, the bawd, and the nymph, jovially intoxicated themſelves, and by five in the morning were joining in the agree⯑able concert of their noſtrils.

Miſs ELLIOT might have made her eſ⯑cape now, but as ſhe knew they could al⯑ledge nothing againſt her, and ſhe muſt have expoſed herſelf in the neighbourhood [64] by returning at that time in the morning▪ ſhe remained till they awoke, in order to be conducted before a worthy magiſtrate.

The vigilant guardians of the night having proclaimed the hour of ſix, retur⯑ned to depoſit their lanthorns and ſtaves, and the inebriate priſoners and gueſts be⯑gan to yawn for repoſe. It was too early to diſturb his worſhip, and the generous nymph, who had ſo bountifully ſupplied them with wine, procured them coffee and tea for breakfaſt, of which our he⯑roine, after her fatigue, was eaſily pre⯑vailed on to partake.

Miſs ELLIOT had received ſeveral hints the former part of the evening, that by a proper preſent to the officer, ſhe might obtain her liberty; but, for urgent rea⯑ſons, ſhe was obliged to decline ſuch an offer, though ſhe would gladly have pro⯑poſed it, had it been in her power.

The worthy officers of the night now began to make the neceſſary preparations for conducting the priſoners to the magi⯑ſtrate; at whoſe reſidence, when they ar⯑rived [65] they remained ſome time in the anti⯑chamber, before they could gain admit⯑tance to his worſhip's preſence. At length they received notice to appear before him; and the elderly lady, being an houſe⯑keeper, was firſt examined.

When the merits of her cauſe were heard, the juſtice commanded her mitti⯑mus to be drawn, and her perſon con⯑veyed to the ſecure manſion of Tothil. Her tears and ſupplications on this occa⯑ſion were of no force at all; and ſhe was given to underſtand by his worſhip, that he could ſee through thoſe crocodile artifi⯑ces, and was not to be impoſed upon by fair ſpeeches; ordering his myrmidons to ſee her lodged in the apartment to which he had conſigned her

While the clerk was preparing her mit⯑timus, the gentleman came in who had been in her company the preceeding night, in order to make depoſition of his having had his pocket picked of his watch. This gentleman declared upon oath, that there was nobody in the room but the bawd and his enamorata; upon which the arch [66] hypocrite fell on her knees, and with art⯑ful tears proteſted her innocence; but the juſtice giving her a ſign, ſhe return⯑ed the watch, with which the owner re⯑tired contentedly, and the poor girl was committed.

Our heroine beheld with indignation this diſtribution of juſtice, which permitted the guilty to eſcape with impunity, while the innocent ſuffered the moſt rigorous award; apprehending that ſhe herſelf might probably accompany the young lady to the hempen block. But theſe apprehen⯑ſions ſoon ſubſided, when Mrs. Lamb (an old gentlewoman perfectly well known to his worſhip) appeared to vouch for her character; and ſhe being immediately ſet at liberty, returned home with her bene⯑volent landlady.

Being arrived at her lodgings, ſhe could not forbear making ſome remarks on the late incident that had befallen her; as well as exclaiming againſt a monſtrous perver⯑ſion of law, which is daily practiſed in our ſtreets; ſeizing on perſons who quiet⯑ly paſs without offering the leaſt outrage [67] or moleſtation to any perſon. This ſhe thought could not be juſtified on princi⯑ples of Engliſh liberty, which certainly permits the ſubject to paſs unmoleſted at all hours, provided they infringe not the laws of peace, by diſturbing the inhabi⯑tants, or haraſſing the paſſengers. She alſo took notice, that, unleſs our zealous reformers found out ſome more effectual method of ſtopping the progreſs of vice, than that of ſeizing on poor unhappy wo⯑men promiſcuouſly, and conſigning them to the vileſt receptacles, where they were rendered more impudent, and which only ſerved to harden them in ſin, avaricious villains would proſtitute the ſacred name of law, to countenance the gratification of their ſordid diſpoſition.

The reader will pleaſe to obſerve, that in all her troubles, her dear M—y, by whoſe conſent ſhe had admitted o⯑thers to a participation of the ſame fa⯑vours with which ſhe indulged him, ne⯑ver was in a condition to afford her any relief in all her diſtreſſes, or to contri⯑bute in the leaſt towards extricating her out of any difficulty ſhe fell into. She [68] had therefore no reſource leſt, but to form the beſt plan ſhe could in her former un⯑happy ſtation in life.

Having now, by a courſe of experience, acquired a competent knowledge of the world of intrigue, ſhe was now fully ac⯑compliſhed for ſuſtaining the character of a profeſſed courtezan. She was indeed at preſent under the controul of Mrs. Lamb, to whom ſhe was indebted for the imme⯑diate means of her exiſtence, but ſhe ſoon managed affairs ſo well, as to free, herſelf from the trammels of that impoſing mer⯑cenary wretch.

A variety of incidents had taught her the neceſſity of a gaudy outſide ſhew, and a double tongue, in order to accompliſh the different ſchemes of a woman of pleaſure; ſo that ſhe became verſed in all the chi⯑canery that conſtitutes experienced guilt. Her prevailing love of novelty rendered her a more agreeable companion to each ſucceſſive cully; and prompted her to a behaviour that frequently extorted gratuities from that part of female ad⯑mirers, [69] who prefer the giving to the re⯑ceiving of pleaſure in amorous encoun⯑ters.

Being enrolled in the liſt of the infamous pimp-maſter general, her aſſignations be⯑came very frequent; and as ſhe now acted with an immediate view to pecuniary ad⯑vantage, her finances increaſed, and en⯑abled her in a ſhort time to diſcharge Mrs. Lamb's debt, and once more embark in the world of gallantry on her own bottom.

Accordingly being well furniſhed with the neceſſary apparatus of her profeſſion, ſhe frequented the park, and the play; and raiſed herſelf to a very high degree of emi⯑nence in the rank of female adventurers.

She had not long frequented the faſhi⯑onable aſſemblies of the gay and polite, before ſeveral gentlemen declared them⯑ſelves ſmitten with her charms; though none paid their addreſſes to her on the ſcore of marriage, or made her any other over⯑tures than ſome cuſtomary remarks on her beauty.

[70]I muſt here beg the readers pardon for a ſhort digreſſion, in order to give them ſome idea of what is meant by female ad⯑mirers. They may be conſidered, as com⯑poſed of three claſſes; viz. The honour⯑able, the diſhonourable, and the negative or dangling, implying neither the one nor the other. The firſt ſet of admirers generally require not beauty alone in a lady, but ſomething more durable, which is money; ſenſible that a deſtitution of this neceſſary ingredient in the portion of a wife always entails cares, and too often diſcord, that bane of the nuptial union. The ſecond claſs ſeldom requires any other qualification in the fair one, than beauty; though wit is frequently deemed a very agreeable quality in a miſtreſs, unleſs the lover is deficient in it himſelf, or imagines his charmer has too great a ſhare, and conſequently diſtruſts her employing it to bad purpoſes againſt himſelf. With re⯑ſpect to the third ſort, called danglers, their vanity is raiſed in proportion to the endowments poſſeſſed by the Lady they profeſs to admire; and theſe generally may be gratified in their higheſt expec⯑tations, without prejudice to a woman's [71] honour or virtue, provided ſhe is well aſ⯑ſured that the perſon, who appears to be a mere dangler, is not in reality a hypocrite.

Now, though Miſs ELLIOT ſoon met with ſeveral of the latter claſs of admir⯑ers, the cauſe cannot be aſſigned why ſhe had neither of the two former, till ſome time after her firſt appearance in places of public reſort; unleſs it may be attributed to the uncertainty of her for⯑tune amongſt thoſe men of honour, who would have approved of her as a wife, or, to that which is more common, a tender⯑neſs for her perſon and years, among thoſe rakes, who, though they could not reliſh matrimony, would gladly have embraced her as a miſtreſs.

Tired with a long and fruitleſs ſearch after ſome lover, who was both able and willing to make her a handſome compen⯑ſation in return for her favours, ſhe one day took a ſolitary walk in Kenſington gardens. She ſat down on a green bench, reclined her head on her arm, and was very thoughtful. She was much ſurpriſed by a gentleman's accoſting her with, [72] ‘Pretty Miſs, permit me the honour of ſitting by you.’ She turned her head to ſee who it was that accoſted her, and was agreeably ſurpriſed to find it was a perſon, who, by his air, ſeemed entirely adapted to her purpoſe. She therefore, very politely deſired him to ſit down; and a few minutes converſation ſo captivated his affection, that an interview was preſent⯑ly agreed on at her lodgings, to which ſhe gave him proper directions, and whither he repaired the following day in the after⯑noon.

This new lover was no other than com⯑modore H—y, nephew to the right honourable l— B—; he was ſo highly charmed with her converſation at this firſt viſit, that he ſtaid all night with her, and, before they parted, eaſily gained her conſent to live with him as a miſtreſs; and accordingly ſettled on her an annuity of 500 l. per annum, preſenting her at the ſame time with a gold watch and a dia⯑mond necklace.

No woman, in Miſs ELLIOT'S way of life, ever lived more happy or content than [73] ſhe did for two years that ſhe was in keep⯑ing with this gentleman. He was paſſion⯑ately fond of her, and was continually racking his invention to find out new ways of pleaſing her. She was ſole miſtreſs of his houſe, regarded by all the ſervants as their miſtreſs; and they were told by the commodore, that whatever Miſs EL⯑LIOT ordered them to do, was to be com⯑plied with as punctually as though he himſelf had commanded it.

Our heroine, who now moved in a higher ſphere than ſhe had ever done be⯑fore, was careſſed by all the commo⯑dore's friends and acquaintance, who all ſeemed to take a pleaſure in daily giving her freſh proofs of their friendſhip and eſteem. She was envied by all her ac⯑quaintance, both male and female: by the men, who lamented their cruel deſtiny that denied the enjoyment of her ador⯑able perſon; and by women of her own ſtamp, who often ſighed to experience the ſame happineſs ſhe enjoyed.

About this time her ſiſter FANNY, who had unluckily made a falſe ſtep at Tun⯑bridge, [74] came to London, in hopes of pro⯑curing a genteel livelihood by the traffic of thoſe charms which nature had beſtow⯑ed on her almoſt with as much profuſion as on Miſs ELLIOT. She had not been in London above a fortnight, before ſhe was taken notice of by Mr. —, maſter of the G—n c—ſs Inn at Charing-croſs, on whom her beauty made ſo deep an im⯑preſſion, that having learned the place of her abode, he viſited her; and being e⯑qually charmed with her good ſenſe, and engaging converſation, he determined to take her home to live with him: which offer (being diſengaged from any other lover) ſhe accepted of with the greateſt joy.

She did not, however, long enjoy her preſent good fortune; for being diſcover⯑ed to have been a little too free with one of the waiters, ſhe was immediately diſ⯑miſſed from the houſe of her keeper, who loaded her with reproaches for her infide⯑lity to him.

She immediately had recourſe to Miſs ELLIOT, who ſeeing her diſtreſs, allowed [75] her a weekly ſtipend, ſufficient to keep her handſomely; and at the ſame time undertook the arduous, though pleaſing taſk of inſtructing her in all the myſteries of a courtezan; and ſhe had the ſatisfac⯑tion to find, that her ſiſter proved a very apt ſcholar. When ſhe imagined her ſuf⯑ficiently qualified, ſhe reſolved to ſet her up in buſineſs, in a manner which ſhould at the firſt ſet her above the common level of thoſe ladies whoſe bread depends on their beautiful perſons; and to that end hired a very handſome houſe in Northum⯑berland-ſtreet, moſt elegantly furniſhed; ſhe ſupplied her with the handſomeſt clothes her wardrobe afforded, gave her a very handſome gold watch, and made her a preſent of a bank note of fifty pounds.

Thus equipped, Miſs ELLIOT'S ſiſter be⯑gan to live in great ſplendor; and by fol⯑lowing the directions given her for her conduct, ſoon had the ſatisfaction of ſee⯑ing herſelf ſurrounded by many lovers, who were all of them perſons whoſe purſes were as open to her extravagant demands, as their hearts were to her tranſcendent [76] beauty. She was completely bleſſed; but, alas! ſhe was ignorant of her great hap⯑pineſs, which cauſed it to be of very ſhort duration.

There was a French hair-dreſſer, who lived in the Strand, and who being often ſent for to contribute what he could to ſet her off to the beſt advantage, had ſome⯑times ventured to expreſs his paſſion for her; at the ſame time lamenting that the meanneſs of his profeſſion debarred him from the hope of ever arriving at the ſu⯑preme happineſs of enjoying her ſweet per⯑ſon. She liſtened to his bombaſtic oratory with a pleaſure which it was out of her power to conceal; and he catching the opportunity, preſſed her ſo hard, that un⯑able any longer to reſiſt, ſhe conſented; and Monſ. Frizeur from that hour re⯑doubled his former diligence in attending on her; and there ſcarce paſſed a day on which they were not privately together.

Miſs ELLIOT was ſoon acquainted with the intrigue her ſiſter carried on with the French barber: it excited her indignation to the higheſt degree: ſhe ſent for her ſiſ⯑ter; [77] and when ſhe came, reproached her in the ſevereſt terms, for the mean ſpirit ſhe betrayed in admitting to her embraces ſo abject a wretch as Frizeur; and forbade her, on pain of her irreconcileable hatred, ever to ſee him again.

Miſs ELLIOT'S ſiſter, who trembled at the thoughts of incurring her benefactreſs's diſpleaſure, promiſed never more to admit of his viſits; though, as ſhe was ſo paſ⯑ſionately in love with him, ſhe was di⯑ſtracted to think ſhe muſt never ſee him more; and therefore employed her thoughts to find out a way of ſeeing him unknown to our heroine. In this ſhe ſucceeded even beyond her wiſhes for ſome time, till at length her amour with the barber became ſo public as to reflect even ſhame and ſcan⯑dal on herſelf and her ſiſter. Miſs ELLIOT then tried every method her prudence could ſuggeſt to break off their intima⯑cy, but to little purpoſe; for her ſiſter, whoſe paſſion for monſieur was uncon⯑querable, having previouſly diſpoſed of all her furniture, clothes, and every other valuable thing given to her by our he⯑roine, decamped with her lover, to the [78] no ſmall grief of her ſiſter, who found herſelf under the neceſſity of making good to the landlord the loſs of his goods, which had been ſold to raiſe the money neceſſary for the elopement of Miſs EL⯑LIOT'S ſiſter with the Frenchman.

Our heroine, who was of that happy turn of mind, that nothing could long give her uneaſineſs, ſoon forgot this unlucky affair, and reaſſumed her gaiety. Her lover was fond of her to diſtraction, and ſhe took care by the practice of all thoſe endearing arts of which the fair ſex are ſo well fur⯑niſhed, to encreaſe the love he had for her. Thus they continued happy beyond deſcription in the poſſeſſion of each other for about two years, when Miſs ELLIOT, by a moſt unpardonable act of impru⯑dence, incurred the diſpleaſure of the com⯑modore ſo much, that he ordered her to leave his houſe in the moſt abrupt manner, and could never be prevailed on to have any other connexions with her.

H—y's valet de chambre, a fellow of a good perſon and genteel addreſs, had long aſpired to the honour of being en⯑rolled [79] in the liſt of her admirers; he ſigh⯑ed in vain many times to taſte the am⯑broſial nectar, which diſtilled from her coral lips, and he never attended in her apartment to dreſs her hair, which was his daily occupation, but he experienced the flame of love burning in his breaſt with ſo much the more impetuoſity, as he was obliged to keep it pent up without betraying the leaſt ſign of it, for fear of a repulſe from the cruel fair; who, perhaps enraged at his preſumption, might have told the commodore, and he thereby have been diſcharged from his place. In this however he was miſtaken, for Miſs ELLIOT, whoſe firmeſt principle was, that variety is the ſoul of pleaſure, ſeeing his diſtreſs, kindly relieved his pain, by tell⯑ing him ſhe was reſolved to reward his paſſion with a ſuitable return of love; and from that hour, they often enjoyed each o⯑thers company when her keeper was abſent.

This agreeable correſpondence however did not long ſubſiſt. The valet, who was naturally of a hot fiery diſpoſition, having had ſome words with one of the footmen [80] a blackamoor, the Indian, out of re⯑venge for having been [...] by our heroine's new lover, determ [...] [...] acquaint his maſter with the [...] which was carrying on between his fellow ſervant and Miſſ ELLIOT: which he did; exaggera⯑ting the moſt minute circumſtance to the higheſt aggravation of their guilt. The iſſue was, that the valet, having received his wages, was kicked out of doors; and the lady ordered to decamp, without be⯑ing even permitted to take any more clothes than what were barely ſufficient for her preſent uſe.

The reader is to be informed (and I hope he will excuſe the omiſſion, as pro⯑ceeding more from inadvertency than any other cauſe) that when Miſs ELLIOT quit⯑ted the Engliſh ſtage, ſhe found herſelf in⯑volved in a variety of debts, which ſhe was unable to diſcharge, notwithſtanding her income was greater than ever ſhe could have reaſonably expected; and therefore, in order to avoid the inſolent importunities of her creditors, ſhe judged it adviſeable to make a trip to Dublin, having previouſ⯑ly obtained a ſettlement from the managers of the theatre there.

[81]She did not however remain long there; and on her return to England, finding it impoſſible to wreſt the capital parts from thoſe actreſſes who had long enjoyed them by theatrical preſcription, ſhe liſt⯑ened to the addreſſes of the honour⯑able Mr. H—y, who engaged, by his connexions and intereſt, to carry every point ſhe propoſed. In this however ſhe found herſelf miſtaken: for though this gentleman exerted all his influence in her favour, the managers were not convinced that ſhe had talents for thoſe ſuperior parts, or that ſhe was ſo improved, as to entitle her to preclude the performers who then filled them to the general ſatis⯑faction of the town. Diſguſted with their behaviour, he obliged her to quit the ſtage, and truſt for her ſupport to his fortune and affection; which laſt ſoon began to waver, when he found himſelf obliged to maintain a woman, who conſidered her abandoning the ſtage as a great ſacrifice; and expected in return many conceſſions and indulgencies. Mutual coolneſs ſuc⯑ceeded, and jealouſy, confirmed after⯑wards by the ſtrongeſt conviction of her guilt, was the cauſe of their ſeparation; and his miſtreſs, and valet de chambre [82] were diſmiſed together, as we have already ſeen.

Notwithſtanding this ſtroke of adverſe fortune, ſhe ſtill roſe higher from the re⯑bound. She remained, however, for ſome time in an obſcure ſtate; and though ſhe did not publicly walk the ſtreets as before, yet ſhe had a ſet of conſtant cuſtomers, who either viſited her at her own lodgings, or elſe ſent for her to ſome tavern or bagnio. This flow of buſineſs, though, if I may be allowed the ex⯑preſſion, only in the retail way, enabled her to live comfortably, and by degrees encreaſe her little ſtock of clothes, with⯑out being forced to run in debt for them. In proportion, as her wardrobe became more valuable, her trade increaſed; and being at length able to appear with ſome degree of propriety in a ſide box, ſhe did not fail of making many valuable con⯑queſts: adverſity, the beſt miſtreſs of fru⯑gality, having ſhewed the inconveniences reſulting from extravagance, made her now regulate her expences within the bounds of moderation.

[83]Being now able to aſſume the appear⯑ance of a woman of condition, ſhe en⯑deavoured to draw in ſome unexperienced youth in the way of marriage; or at leaſt to procure an advantageous ſettlement from ſome rich cully. Purſuant to this plan, ſhe frequented all public places; but to her great grief, ſhe ſoon found that ſhe was too well known to hope for ſucceſs in the former way, and therefore wiſely con⯑fined her deſires to the latter. In this ſhe ſucceeded, and was taken into keeping by a certain rich Jew, (whoſe name, for par⯑ticular reaſons, we judge proper to con⯑ceal,) to whom ſhe had no objection, but his advanced age and peculiar religion; but his wealth over-ballanced all theſe conſiderations.

Notwithſtanding the general obloquy and reproach under which this people lies, ſhe found her keeper to be a very worthy man, and was greatly pleaſed with her ſituation, becauſe he was ſo much en⯑gaged in buſineſs, that he had not an op⯑portunity of taking notice of the frequent infidelities ſhe was guilty of towards him.

[84]While ſhe was kept by the Jew, ſhe had frequent interviews with ſome of her old friends, particularly Mr. M—y, who ſeemed to have the ſame warm paſſion he at firſt entertained for her, together with the ſame degree of affection, which ſhe eſteemed an evident proof of the good⯑neſs of his heart.

Her keeper being obliged to go to Hol⯑land about his affairs, and having given her to underſtand that he did not expect to return in leſs than a month, ſhe was overjoyed at the intelligence; but ſhe was ſo much miſtreſs of the art of diſſembling (an art full as neceſſary in a kept miſtreſs as a courtier) that ſhe expreſſed the higheſt concern at parting, and went ſo far as to ſhed tears.

Notwithſtanding her concern at his de⯑parture, ſhe took care to avail herſelf of his abſence; for being now her own miſ⯑treſs, ſhe admitted the viſits of a croud of young fellows, and led a life of uninter⯑rupted pleaſures till his return, which ſhe eſteemed one of the moſt unfortunate ac⯑cidents [85] that could befal her; though ſhe was as ſucceſsful in counterfeiting joy up⯑on ſeeing him again, as ſhe had been in affecting grief at being ſeparated from him.

She lived with him till the time of his death, which happened about two years after, when ſhe was again obliged to look out for a new keeper.

The life of a kept miſtreſs is conſtantly ebbing and flowing, ſubject to perpetual viciſſitudes, and ſo many ſcenes of compli⯑cated woe, that were is not for that infal⯑lible remedy the bottle, ſo many could not be deluded by fantaſtic proſpects, and airy expectations, into an abyſs of miſery and deſpair. But to leave moralizing, and return to the ſtory.

As our heroine was very fortunate, ſhe was taken into keeping by Mr. G—, a gameſter, who took a genteel lodging near Leiceſter-fields, where they lived in a very elegant manner. She lived with Mr. G— very agreeable for ſome months, aſſured that her lover was a man of for⯑tune [87] as they lived in a ſplendor that could not be ſupported at a ſmall expence: But Mr. G— ſuddenly diſappeared, and poor Miſs ELLIOT was arreſted by the landlady for board and lodging, and conveyed to the Fleet, the too frequent reſidence of whores and authors.

The confined life of a jail appeared very tedious and inſipid to a woman of our he⯑roine's ſprightly diſpoſition, but ſhe had not languiſhed a conſiderable time, till good fortune ſent her a companion capable of alleviating the uneaſineſs of her ſituation.

A gentleman was brought to priſon, who, though too far advanced in years to be amiable, had a very genteel perſon; and there was ſomething extremely enga⯑ing and agreeable in his converſation. It was very lucky that ſhe met with this new acquaintance, but her happineſs received a conſiderable addition, when a ſervant in livery one morning brought him a letter, by which he received intelligence, that a friend of his had advanced the ſum in queſtion, and that he ſhould be ſet at li⯑berty that very day: Mr. F— was [86] overjoyed at the news: and Miſs ELLIOT had no leſs reaſon to be ſo, as he had pro⯑poſed to take her home as ſoon as he was releaſed.

She regained her liberty the ſame day as Mr. F—, with whom ſhe lived in great tranquillity, eſteeming this the hap⯑pieſt part of her life; for though the ſen⯑ſual enjoyments were not ſo ſtrong in her lover, ſhe was free from thoſe inquietudes that ever attend the ſtrong paſſion of jea⯑louſy, with which the minds of ſome of her keepers had been infeſted.

In about four years Mr. F— died, having ſettled an unnuity of forty pounds per annum on his dear Nancy. With this income ſhe propoſed ſettling in ſome way of buſineſs, which the bounty of her keeper had enabled her to do. Her intention, however, was ſoon diverted from this reſolution, by a new acquain⯑tance which ſhe made a ſhort time after, and which intercourſe paved the way to a ſtate, to which her moſt exalted expec⯑tations could never have aſpired.

[88]Being once more to be diſpoſed of in the auction of love, and as her annuity made her able to preſerve her conſequence, none dared to approach the ſpot, where ſhe diſpenſed her charms, but thoſe who were amply furniſhed with the all-pre⯑vailing metal.

At this juncture, Sir George B—, re⯑turned from his travels, and had not been in town two days before he was ſtopped, by a livery ſervant, in Bond-ſtreet, who told him, that his lady deſired to ſpeak with him. His ſurpriſe was very great on this occaſion, but much greater, when on enquiry he found that ſhe who had ſent him that polite meſſage, was no other than the celebrated Miſs ELLIOT, whoſe ſame had reached his ears. After innumerable proteſtations of love, he aſk⯑ed her if ſhe was content to live with him as a miſtreſs; and ſhe conſenting, filled him with inexpreſſible joy and delight.

She now thought of devoting herſelf to the perſon of her lover alone, and he was equally happy and content in the em⯑braces of a woman he eſteemed before her [89] whole ſex. They lived together about ſix months in all the endearments of mutual affection, when Sir George was informed, by a letter, of the deceaſe of his brother abroad; and of his having left him ſole executor to an eſtate of immenſe value. A ſeparation hereby became unavoidably neceſſary; ſo that Miſs ELLIOT ſoon part⯑ed with the only man ſhe loved, but not without receiving from him manifeſt to⯑kens of his affection and generoſity.

There came to England, with Sir George, a young gentleman of fortune, whoſe name was Ed—ds, very amorous, but very petulant. He had often obſerved our he⯑roine, on his viſits to Sir George, with an eye of deſire; and judging his abſence a very convenient opportunity for making known his opinion of her, he wrote to her, and incloſed a double piece of paper in the letter, which being a pregnant proof of his generoſity, procured him a viſit, as did a repeated preſent the deſired fa⯑vour.

Young Ed—ds was the richeſt of all her admirers under the rank of nobility; [91] and Miſs ELLIOT, availing herſelf of his extraordinary fondneſs, obtained from him very conſiderable, as well as very frequent draughts; and by that means lived as ele⯑gant as any woman in the whole city. Thoſe who are acquainted with the pride of the human heart, will not be at all ſur⯑priſed, when they hear that our heroine was now as much the envy of the women, as ſhe was the admiration of the men. The latter thought the charms of the whole ſex centered in the amiable Miſs ELLIOT; while the former invented num⯑berleſs aſperſions to villify her character; repreſenting her vanity as unparalleled, her pride as inſupportable, and her avarice as inſatiable.

Notwithſtanding the calumny of her ſex, which aroſe from the moſt inveterate envy to our heroine, who ſupplanted moſt of them in the admiration of the men, by the ſplendor of her appearance, ſhe had many adorers, and met with divers adventures, no leſs extraordinary than entertaining.

A certain noble lord, whoſe marriage being of ſome years ſtanding, was grown. [90] weary of the embraces of his lady, though a woman of very amiable accompliſhments both of mind and perſon, imagining he ſaw in Miſs ELLIOT qualities that would excite ſenſations ſuperior to any he had hitherto experienced, found means to pro⯑cure a viſit, and would have abruptly open⯑ed his deſign, had he not diſcovered, from the reſerved manner of her behaviour, that ſome degree of ceremony was requiſite by way of prelude.

He ſubmitted to the cuſtom ſhe im⯑poſed; and after two hours diſtant con⯑ference took his leave: but, on the ſe⯑cond viſit, he preſented her with a gold ſnuff-box, containing a very valuable com⯑modity, which prevented any farther re⯑monſtrances on her part. However, ſhe informed him, ſhe was engaged all the week with Mr. Ed—ds, and would be at his ſervice at the expiration of that time. The appointed period being come, his lordſhip waited on her, and preſented her with a diamond ring, with which ſhe ſeemed extremely ſatisfied. He paſſed the evening with her, and was ſo enraptured with her company, that he not only proteſ⯑ted [92] he had never been ſo happy in his life, but repeated his viſits every other day for a month, when he made her very hand⯑ſome preſents, and ſhe made him the ſa⯑tisfactory returns.

During her interviews with this noble lord, ſhe had received from him, when caſh run ſhort, jewels to a conſiderable amount. In theſe ſhe appeared at the play, ſitting very near to the lady of her noble keeper, whoſe moſt magnificent ap⯑paratus of dreſs being diſpoſed of to ſup⯑port the extravagance of her lord, ſhe had nothing but paſte ornaments about her; and therefore, obſerving her own diamonds on a celebrated courtezan, was ſo exceſ⯑ſively, and indeed juſtly chagrined, that ſhe left the play-houſe before the repre⯑ſentation was concluded.

This adventure was ſucceeded by ano⯑ther, that gratified the ſpleen and envy of the malicious part of the ſex for ſome days. Miſs ELLIOT was riding one morn⯑ing in Hyde-Park for the benefit of the air, in compliance with the cuſtom of the [93] bean mende, when her horſe, taking fright, ran away with her. A group of beaux preſently came to her aſſiſtance, and our heroine being riſen from the ground, found ſhe had a violent pain in her right hip; on which a chair being ſent for, ſhe was conveyed home. To this accident alone, as we ſhall ſee in the ſequel, ſhe owed all her future good fortune.

When ſhe came home ſhe was put to bed, and a ſurgeon being ſent for, he gave it as his opinion, that the hurt ſhe had re⯑ceived was far from being dangerous, and that if proper care were taken of her, ſhe might, after a dew days, appear again in public as before this accident happened to her.

Amongſt the gentlemen who were pre⯑ſent when ſhe received the accident, there was one who ſeemed more atten⯑tive than all the reſt to lend her aſſiſtance. He was no other than the D— of C—, who having learned the place of her abode, reſolved to viſit her as ſoon as ſhe was able to receive company. [94] He therefore ſent her ſeveral polite meſ⯑ſages, ſignifying the great deſire he had of being farther acquainted with her, and his intention of coming to ſee her as ſoon as ever her preſent indiſpoſition would al⯑low her to receive viſits.

She, who was overjoyed at the thoughts of being taken notice of by ſo reſpect⯑able a perſonage, returned anſwers ſuit⯑able to the letters ſhe received; and, at his deſire, appointed a day when it would be moſt convenient for him to come to ſee her. He obeyed the ſum⯑mons; and this firſt interview engaged her ſo deeply in his affections, that he took her immediately into keeping, on condition of her laying aſide all thoughts of appearing any more on the ſtage, for which ſhe ſtill entertained a very great inclination, though four years were now elapſed ſince ſhe had quitted the theatre. He hired a very fine houſe for her in Greek Street, near Soho Square, and furniſhed it in the moſt magnificent manner, and made a ſettlement on her of fifteen hun⯑dred pounds per annum; and, in ſhort, treated her with ſo much affection, that ſhe [95] had reaſon to congratulate herſelf on the unexpected happineſs ſhe now enjoyed.

Our heroine exerted all her powers to pleaſe and amuſe her lover. They paſſed their time in the enjoyment of the moſt rational amuſements, and ſhe was careful to employ every art ſhe was miſtreſs of to in⯑creaſe his love for her. She read to him the beauties of the Engliſh claſſics, and par⯑ticularly Milton, ſo emphatically as gave him the higheſt ſatisfaction. She pointed out the moſt ſtriking paſſages with ſo much nicety of judgment, as raiſed his wonder, that a woman ſhould be able to diſcover theſe beauties which had eluded the moſt diligent reſearches of the ableſt writers: ſhe engaged in his hunting parties, and entered into the ſpirit of all the amuſe⯑ments her ſwain admired, and which he was pleaſed to find his miſtreſs approved. Nay, ſo great was her ſkill in horſeman⯑ſhip, that one who had more wit than good nature obſerved, that, ‘ſhe leaped over the five barred gates with as little ceremony as ſhe had formely vaulted over the mounds of virtue and diſcre⯑tion.’

[96]Miſs ELLIOT's lover grew ſo fond of her as not to be able to refuſe her any thing that ſhe aſked of him, while he was loſt in the ſweet elyſium of bliſs; and ſhe did not forget to avail herſelf of the fa⯑cility of his temper, by amaſſing ſuch a⯑mazing quantities of rich clothes and trinkets, as were altogether aſtoniſhing. Thus ſhe lived in one continued round of pleaſure, without once deſiring to wake from the golden dream.

She had lived in this agreeable manner about a year and a half, when her happi⯑neſs was interrupted by her lover's being obliged to quit her ſoft embraces for a time, and go on an expedition to the Mediterranean; for which a fleet was ſit⯑ting out, to ſail in a ſhort time. This reverſe of fortune ſhe uſed her utmoſt endeavours to bear with all the philoſophy ſhe was miſtreſs of. She reſolved to try the force of his affection for her, by draw⯑ing him in to make her ſome preſent, which ſhould amply make up for the loſs ſhe ſhould ſuſtain by his abſence, and which alſo would be a ſort of proviſion [97] for her in caſe he either never returned, or, being tired of her, ſhould fix his heart on ſome other lady. In order to effect her ſcheme, one evening, when he was merrier than uſual, ſhe propoſed to him that he ſhould ſubſcribe his name to a paper ſhe had prepared, intitling her to an annuity of a thouſand pounds in caſe any accident ſhould befall him. She did not however ſucceed in this attempt. He treated the paper with the contempt it merited, and told his miſtreſs, ſhe muſt deviſe ſome other method to excite his generoſity, than that of making her own terms, when ſhe ought to leave that entirely to him. He ſaid he had already determined on the ſum he intended to give, and order⯑ed her never more to urge him on that head.

He then preſented her with three bank notes of a thouſand pounds each; pro⯑miſing her, at the ſame time, that if ſhe continued faithful to him during his ab⯑ſence, he would, at his return, reward her conſtancy in a manner far beyond her expectation. He farther aſſured her, that nothing ſhould ever make him forget her, [98] and that while they both lived, he was firmly reſolved not to take any other wo⯑man to his arms as long as her behaviour continued to be ſuch as it ought to be.

Our heroine, who perceived the wrong ſtep ſhe had taken, and which, if the D— had not been ſo paſſionately fond of her, might have proved fatal, excuſed herſelf in the beſt manner ſhe could, and he re-aſſumed his former good humour. From this time, till he embarked on ſhip board, he was very ſeldom abſent. At length, the hour of his departure arrived, and he left his dear miſtreſs, who pre⯑tended to be inconſolable on account of their ſeparation.

I ſhall only mention one or two of her intrigues while the D— was abſent; becauſe, although ſhe received viſits from ſeveral others, yet none of her adventures with them are ſo intereſting as to deſerve a place in this hiſtory.

The firſt gentleman who had any con⯑nections with her after the D— left England, was a captain of a man of war [99] named R—n. Although he expreſſed great fondneſs for her, yet he was very far from exciting her affection in ſo high a degree, as her laſt lover. He was a man, who, when his paſſion was once gratified, ſenſibly grew cooler in his love, and he became at laſt ſo indifferent, and viſited her ſo ſeldom, that it was plain his fickle temper could not be long ſatisfied with the enjoyment of the ſame perſon. Hav⯑ing nothing elſe to depend on but his pay he could not anſwer all her extravagant demands; which proved, after a ſhort in⯑tercourſe, the cauſe of their final ſepara⯑tion.

But to proceed in order. Being now left to herſelf, ſhe was ſoon ſurrounded by the ſame circle of admirers as before, though none made ſo ſenſible an impreſ⯑ſion on her heart as Capt. S—D—RS, a gen⯑tleman, whoſe vivacity and good breeding rendered him much reſpected by all his acquaintance, as well as a general favour⯑ite with the ladies. The captain, being enamoured of our heroine, took every opportunity of being in her company alone, nor was ſhe backward in complying with [100] his inclination in this reſpect, ſince the ſhort intercourſes thus obtained, yielded much greater ſatisfaction than a mixed company could give.

He had, however, the diſcretion to ad⯑dreſs her only as a former acquaintance, whenever he found ſhe was engaged with other company; and the lady had know⯑ledge enough of the world to anſwer him in the ſame manner: and their intimacy was kept up with ſo much art, that one Mr. THOMPSON who kept her company at the ſame time, and who was of ſo jealous a temper, that he boiled with rage if ſhe ſpoked to or looked at any other man, ap⯑peared free from all ſuſpicion of the cap⯑tain, though the change in her was ſo ap⯑parent, as might have been obſervable by one leſs jealous. Her eyes became ani⯑mated, her complexion glowed, ſhe ſpoke with eaſe, and her whole air was changed when in the captain's company.

On the other hand the captain was ex⯑tremely cautious in his conduct towards her: which, as it laid him under great re⯑ſtraint, he thought deſerved to be reward⯑ed [101] by ſome private interviews, wherein they might have the pleaſure of ſecurely gratifying their mutually ardent paſſions.

To this her fears of a diſcovery made ſome objection; nor was ſhe without ap⯑prehenſions from the imprudence of his paſſion, which ſhe thought her own was too violent to repreſs. At length, how⯑ever, he prevailed; and as it was not very difficult to bring about, a time and place were accordingly appointed.

The firſt private interview brought on a ſecond, a ſecond a third, and ſo on, until they became 'almoſt daily; the thoughts of danger vaniſhed from her, and ſhe gave a looſe to her moſt animated deſires, re⯑velling in all the ecſtaſies of a boundleſs affection, and receiving the moſt ſenſible tokens of love from her admired captain, that youth and vigour could poſſibly af⯑ford.

Theſe private meetings enabled the lovers the better to reſtrain themſelves in public company, and they had the ſatis⯑faction of continuing their courſe un⯑ſuſpected, [102] faction of continuing their courſe unſuſ⯑pected, till one night a maid ſervant of Mr. Thompſon paſſed by, juſt as ſhe came out of the captain's lodging, and viſibly obſerved her. Her fright at this accident was ſo exceſſive, that ſhe could not ſup⯑port herſelf, and ſhe was obliged to return with the captain to his lodgings, till ſhe was well enough recovered to walk.

On her return to her own apartment, ſhe found Mr. Thompſon had been ac⯑quainted with the affair; though ſhe was poorly provided with an apology, it was no part of her misfortune, that he would not give her an opportunity to de⯑fend herſelf. His abuſe deſcended to e⯑very infamous appellation, and he order⯑ed her, in a very imperious tone, to depart from his houſe, which ſhe immediately did, and ſent notice of it directly to cap⯑tain S—d—rs, and begged to hear from him as ſoon as poſſible.

The following evening ſhe heard a footman coming up ſtairs, who, to her inexpreſſible joy, put a note into her hands from the captain, who promiſed to wait [103] on her the next morning. The pleaſure ſhe received on this occaſion was ſo great, that ſhe could hardly conceal it from the ſervant who brought it, and who waited for an anſwer; much leſs could ſhe com⯑poſe herſelf ſo as to read it directly. At length, after a little recollection, ſhe found that theCapt. told her in it, that his appre⯑henſions for her had given him the great⯑eſt uneaſineſs; that he would ſoon ſee her and order matters ſo as to put her in a place where ſhe would be ſafe from any future inſult ſhe might apprehend from the jealouſy of Mr. Thompſon.

This gave her new courage; and the following evening he came to her lodg⯑ings in a poſt-chaiſe, in which they ſet out for Bath; and relays of freſh⯑horſes being provided at the different ſtages, they arrived the next day at Bath.

Here the captain provided genteel lodg⯑ings for her; and the people with whom ſhe lodged regarded her as a perſon of quality, rather than, what ſhe in fact was, a woman of pleaſure.

[104]In this ſtate ſhe continued near two months; when her lover received orders for a cruize in the Mediteranean. He endea⯑voured in vain to be excuſed from going; and this unwillingneſs to obey the orders ſent to [...]m by the admiralty, ſo irritated thoſe on whom his greateſt intereſt was founded, that they procured his diſmiſ⯑ſion, and he was reduced to half-pay.

He had alſo the mortification to per⯑ceive, upon examining into the ſtate of his affairs, that he was indebted much more than he had any reaſonable view of paying; ſo that he was obliged to apply to a relation to aſſiſt him with his ſervice and intereſt in obtaining the protection of the board of green-cloth.

A ſeparation was now deemed abſolute⯑ly neceſſary; and accordingly Miſs EL⯑LIOT ſet out for London, where being ar⯑rived, ſhe took genteel lodgings near Ca⯑vendiſh-ſquare, and lived in great ſplendor, till the D— of C— returned to England, which happened in about a month after her laſt adventure.

[105]Her illuſtrious lover, whom an abſence of three months had not in the leaſt alter⯑ed in reſpect of fondneſs, gave her ſuch convincing proofs that his love for her was rather increaſed than diminiſhed; and ac⯑cordingly he conſtantly adminiſtered with greater prodigality to her extravagance than he had ever done before. He was however ſoon tired of this profuſe way of beſtowing his favours, and he at laſt re⯑ſolved to abandon her entirely on that ac⯑count: which he did by giving her to un⯑derſtand, that the laſt favour ſhe was to expect from him, was what was encloſed in the billet he ſent her, namely, a five hundred pounds bank note.

Being thus abandoned, the firſt lover that preſented himſelf at the ſhrine of her beauty, was the count de Guerchy. This gentleman, by birth a Frenchman, was the more agreeable to Miſs ELLIOT, as his complaiſance flattered her pride, and the great encomiums he paſſed on her beau⯑ty. He made a long introduction to her on the ſubject of her wealth; and having harrangued a long while on that ſubject, he aſſured her, he had no other in⯑tention, [106] than to make her eternally hap⯑py; and even went ſo far as to offer marriage, provided ſhe was willing to ac⯑cept of him as a huſband. This ſhe ab⯑ſolutely refuſed, but ſuffered him to court her as cloſe and aſſiduouſly as if he had been wooing her to matrimony: he made ſeveral valuable preſents, which ſhe ſuffer⯑ed herſelf to be prevailed on to accept, though not without great difficulty.

Gradually ſhe ſuffered all his other im⯑portunities; and when he made a propo⯑ſal of a compliment or appointment to her for a ſettlement, he ſaid, there was not leſs due from him, to acknowledge the favours he received, than if our heroine had been in the greateſt neceſſity. He added, he would make her life perfectly eaſy, by do⯑ing every thing in his power to pleaſe her; and immediately ſigned a paper which in⯑titled her to 500l. a year.

Thus they lived happy in the enjoy⯑ment of each other about nine months, during which time Miſs ELLIOT had ſeve⯑ral other private intrigues; particularly, [...] captain R—rts, who was doatingly [107] fond of her, and made her many valuable preſents. This intercourſe with the cap⯑tain drew on her the reſentment of a young lady, much remarked for her beauty and other female accompliſhments; and had well nigh produced an open rupture be⯑tween her and the French count, who, excepting a ſmall tincture of jealouſy in his temper, was the moſt affable good na⯑tured man in the world. As we ſhall have occaſion to ſay ſomething about the lady kept by captain R—rts, it will be pro⯑per to give the following ſketch of her life.

She derived her extraction from parents in the moſt eligible ſituation in life, being happily exempt from thoſe perplexing difficulties, which attend redundant wealth on the one hand, and thoſe corroding cares that accompany meagre want on the other. Her father enjoyed an eſtate of a⯑bout five hundred pounds a year in the weſt riding of Yorkſhire, where he lived happy in himſelf and ſpouſe, beloved by his friends, and reſpected by all within the circle of his acquaintance.

[108]She had received a good education from her parents, and at the age of four⯑teen years began to feel more ſenſibly thoſe longings for pleaſure of the animal kind, which principally influenced her future conduct. Her firſt amour was carried on in the following manner.

A young getleman, who was diſtantly related to her mother, happening to call as he paſſed by their houſe, was preſſed by her father to ſtay with them a few weeks. To many perſonal charms, were added a deportment peculiarly eaſy and polite, and ſomething uncommonly ſweet and inſinuating in his addreſs; therefore it is no wonder that a girl, ſo ſuſceptible of love as the young lady was, could not ſee him with an indifferent eye. Every word and geſture of his gave her great pleaſure; but when he addreſſed his con⯑verſation to her, ſhe felt an inward tranſ⯑port not eaſily to be deſcribed.

It ſoon appeared that her lover thought he had made a conq [...]eſt of her, for in a ſhort time ſhe received a letter from him filled with expreſſions of love. This gave [109] her ſuch extreme pleaſure, that in her anſwer, ſhe gave him the ſtrongeſt proofs that ſhe approved of his paſſion. After theſe mutual declarations, ſhe had ſoon the happineſs of an interview with her new lover, by means of a pretended in⯑diſpoſition, when her parents went to pay a viſit: and Mr. JOHNSON'S gaining over to his intereſt a neighbouring farmer and his wife, ſo as to connive at their houſe being made the ſcene of their firſt joys.

They met by appointment at the houſe of aſſignation, and were received by the farmer's wife; who after ſhe had ſerved them with tea, directly left the room, and conſequently the lovers by themſelves. I ſhall not be very particular with reſpect to what paſſed at this interview, but con⯑tent myſelf with obſerving, that Mr. JOHNSON ſaid and did ſo many obliging things, that the young lady was quite enchanted with him; and at parting longed for a repetition of his kindneſſes. They could not procure ſuch interviews ſo often as ſhe deſired, for fear of creating a ſuſpicion, which Mr. JOHNSON moſt cau⯑tiouſly avoided. But ſome few more ſuch [110] they had. However, ſhe ſoon found that love is more cloying to men than women; as cool indifference ſoon diſcovered it⯑ſelf in young Johnſon, who grew tired of her father's houſe; and pretending buſineſs in London, that required his immediate attendance took his leave, and left his charmer, ‘to think on what was paſſed, and ſigh alone.’ She be⯑gan now to entertain a reliſh for variety, and therefore did not much regret the loſs of Mr. Johnſon. This paſſion, which ſhe had in proceſs of time in as great a degree as any of the ſex, was ſoon grati⯑fied with another gallant, who had equal influence over her.

Not long after the departure of Mr. Johnſon, ſhe was invited to a ball in the houſe of a neighbouring gentleman, where it fell out that a young lieutenant was her partner.

A handſome fellow, and a red coat, could not fail of pleaſing her; as ſhe diſ⯑covered, not only by his looks, but ſeve⯑ral ſqueezes of the hand, unperceived by [111] the reſt of the company, that he ſaw her in as favourable a light as ſhe did him.

The dance had not continued long, when ſe was ſeized with an odd indiſpoſi⯑tion, which made her declare a reſolution of going home immediately. Her part⯑ner, after having expreſſed his concern, offered to ſee her home, which ſhe with ſeeming reluctance accepted.

It was a very fine evening, and as they walked through a ſolitary path, ſhe per⯑ceived that he had his arms about her waiſt, but did not expoſtulate with him on the liberty he took, or endeavour to diſengage herſelf.

Indeed ſhe then wanted ſome body to ſupport her, and therefore leaned on her conductor's arm; and thus they pro⯑ceeded, till they came to the houſe of the farmer above-mentioned; upon which, ſhe deſired to go in, and take ſomething to revive her ſpirits: they accordingly en⯑tered, and were immediately conducted into the room that had been the ſcene of her former ſtolen delights, by the woman of [112] the houſe; and the young lady ſoon after received a cordial from the hands of the young officer, that entirely diſpelled her indiſpoſition.

If curioſity ſhould excite in any reader a deſire to know what this cordial was, in⯑formation is given, that it was a glaſs of ratafia; and a dram is allowable to the moſt delicate lady for the preſervation or health, or expulſion of diſorders. As ſhe did not think it adviſeable to go any farther with the young officer, ſhe ſigni⯑fied her intention, and he immediately took his leave. The farmer's ſon was hereupon diſpatched with an account of the accident that had befallen Miſs, and the chaiſe was ſent to convey her home. She acted her part ſo well on this occaſion, that her parents entertained not the leaſt ſuſpicion, but from a concern for her health, did all in their power to relieve her, though all their efforts had not half the efficacy as the glaſs of ratafia admi⯑niſtered to her by the lieutenant at the farmer's houſe.

[113]After a variety of adventures, ſhe at laſt came to London; where, after meeting with ſeveral viciſſitudes, ſhe was at length taken into keeping by Captain R—rts, of whom, as we have before obſerved, Miſs ELLIOT had made a conqueſt.

Her new lover's other miſtreſs ſaw, with the greateſt indignation, her rival claſped in the arms of her admirer, and reſolved to take ample revenge on her for it. She invented ſeveral ways to effect her deſign, but none met with ſucceſs. At length, tired with diſappointments, ſhe took the wicked reſolution of ſeeking to take away the life of our heroine, by ad⯑miniſtering to her deadly poiſon; which ſhe endeavoured to do in the following manner.

As our heroine and ſhe could not be ſuppoſed to be very intimate, as they were rivals, ſhe one day ſent Miſs ELLIOT a very polite card, deſiring her to forget all animoſities that might have paſſed be⯑tween them on account of Captain R—rts: and furthermore told her, that ſhe was willing to give up all her right in him to [114] the more prevailing charms of Miſs EL⯑LIOT; and gave her a ſtrong invitation to go and ſee her.

This invitation our heroine thought ſit to comply with; and while they were drinking tea, the abandoned proſtitute found means to convey what ſhe ima⯑gined to be arſenick into Miſs ELLIOT'S tea, unperceived. It was by good luck no other than a chymical preparation, inno⯑cent in itſelf, though violent in the ope⯑ration. This our heroine experienced; for in about half an hour ſhe turned very ſick, and was obliged to call a chair to carry her home. When all was over, ſen⯑ſible that her illneſs was the effect of the reſentment of Captain R—rt's miſtreſs, ſhe reſolved to break off all further inter⯑courſe with him, for fear that her rival ſhould ſome time or other be more ſuc⯑ceſsful in an attempt on her life. She therefore told Captain R—rts her rea⯑ſons for deſiring him to diſcontinue his viſits; and ſhe was ſo cautious, that ſhe abſolutely refuſed ever to admit of his vi⯑ſits any more, though he offered to, and did in reality turn off his former miſtreſs.

[115]About this time our heroine's ſiſter, who, as we have ſeen in the former part of this hiſtory, had uſed her very ill, by running away with the barber, and taking with her the moſt valuable things given to her by Miſs ELLIOT, having met with great misfortunes, was, through a com⯑plicated ſeries of croſs accidents, re⯑duced to ply the ſtreets in the night, ſo⯑liciting any body for a glaſs of wine, or a beef-ſteak, and brought to the greateſt neceſſity in an hoſpital, found means to convey a letter to Miſs ELLIOT, begging her aſſiſtance in the humbleſt manner, and expreſſing great compunction for her for⯑mer miſbehaviour.

Our heroine no ſooner received the ac⯑count of FANNY'S unhappy ſituation, than her heart was moved with pity and compaſſion for her ſufferings, and ſhe re⯑ſolved to give her that ſuccour which ſhe, as a ſiſter, had a right to expect from her. She accordingly flew to the hoſpi⯑tal where her ſiſter was; and if ſhe com⯑paſſionated her unhappy ſituation before, what were the emotions of her heart when ſhe ſaw her extended on a bed almoſt in a [116] dying condition. She approached her, and bade her take courage, for that ſhe was ready to aſſiſt her to the utmoſt of her power. She accordingly gave the nurſe who attended her a crown, and deſired her to acquaint the governor of the hoſpital, that ſhe was come to fetch her ſiſter away, in order to carry her to a place, where ſhe would be more at eaſe during her recove⯑ry. A chair was then called, and Miſs ELLIOT'S ſiſter, being wrapped up in blankets, was put into it, and in that manner conveyed to a proper lodging al⯑ready provided for her

As ſoon as ſhe was well enough to ſit up, ſhe gave Miſs ELLIOT a faithful ac⯑count of all that had happened to her after her elopement with the barber. She related how he had ſtripped her of every thing, and left her with child: that ſhe had, by the intereſt of friends, procured its admiſſion into the Foundling-hoſpital: that after a variety of adventures, attend⯑ed with different ſucceſs, ſhe became at length reduced to the loweſt ſtate of pro⯑ſtitution; and having contracted a diſtem⯑per very common among ladies of her [117] ſtamp, ſhe with difficulty procured a let⯑ter of admiſſion into the hoſpital, where ſhe had found a way of acquainting her ſiſter with her deplorable ſtate.

Our heroine then aſked her what ſhe intended to do to procure a ſubſiſtence, as ſhe perceived, by her diſcourſe, that ſhe intended to live more chaſtly than ſhe had heretofore done. This queſtion puzzled her not a little; but Miſs ELLIOT ſoon relieved her from her anxiety, by telling her, that ſhe would allow her fifty pounds per annum, if ſhe would retire ſomewhere into the country where ſhe was not known. This FANNY joyfully acquieſced in; and as ſoon as her health would permit:, ſhe went down into Wales, where ſhe changed her name, and really became a pattern of the moſt rigid virtue.

And here I cannot help making the following few reflections on the unhappi⯑neſs ſo eſſentially connected with the life of a proſtitute; which, tho' it is moſt deſ⯑p [...]ble, is certainly moſt piteous; and if perſons would but candidly reflect on the too general cauſe of proſtitution, they [118] would ſmooth the wrinkled brow of con⯑tempt, and from the frown of diſdain, diſ⯑ſolve into the tear of compaſſion.

It may be affirmed from univerſal ex⯑perience, that loſs of female virtue oftner proceeds from weakneſs than from vice; an inoffenſive weakneſs, which inclines to an implicit reliance on the deluding vows of ſome perjured debauchee, or alluring proteſtations of ſome inſinuating rake.

When virtue is once loſt, the deſcent down the precipice of vice is very rapid; conſcious guilt, and bad example, inſenſi⯑bly hurl the diſtracted mind, not only into abſolute diſſipation, but total depravity. Hence follow a diſſolution of morals, a diſregard to decency, and all the train of amiable qualities that can adorn beauty in a ſtate of innocence; and then ſucceeds every mental deformity that can tarniſh a lovely face, or render diſguſting even ſymmetry of figure.

The progreſs of vice being thus rapid and fatal, it is preſumed, that the attempt in this work, to direct the riſing generation [119] into thoſe paths of conduct, which, pur⯑ſued, will certainly enable them to ſhun the rocks on which others have ſplit and arrive at the haven of domeſtic happineſs, will not prove entirely fruitleſs.

It is a maxim, true as common, that example affects more than precept; becauſe the latter offends our pride, while the for⯑mer intereſts our paſſions. This remark ſuggeſted the hint of writing theſe ſheets.

But to return to Miſs ELLIOT's in⯑trigues: She was now in keeping by the duke de N—nois, who ſpared no coſt or pains to render himſelf agreeable to her: and in ſhort, indulged her in every thing ſhe could deſire. He took her to all public places to enjoy the pleaſures in vogue among the beau monde.

One evening as they were at ſupper, he ſaid to her, Give me leave, madam, to lay aſide my character, and let us talk toge⯑ther with the freedom of equals; my qua⯑lity ſets me at a diſtance from you, and makes you ceremonious; your beauty ex⯑alts you to more than an equality; I muſt [120] then treat you as lovers do their miſtreſſes, but I cannot ſpeak the language; it is enough to tell you how agreeable you are to me; how I am ſurpriſed at your beau⯑ty, and reſolve to make you happy, and to be happy with you.

As N—nois loved Miſs ELLIOT to diſtraction, ſo he rewarded her with a princely munificence; for firſt he ſent her a toilet, with the appurtenances of ſilver, even ſo much as the frame of the table; as alſo a ſide board of plate, with all things belonging to it, of maſſy ſilver; ſo that, in ſhort, there was nothing ſhe could either wiſh for or deſqire which ſhe did not poſſeſs.

Miſs ELLIOT, whoſe motive for keeping company with the duke was principally gain, reſolved to get as much out of him as ſhe poſſibly could, and therefore was always contriving ſome way to cauſe him to make her ſome handſome preſent. Clothes and jewels ſhe had in abundance, and her coffer was full of money: ſhe might be ſaid to poſſeſs, by this time, near ten thouſand pounds; for as ſhe had been pretty ſucceſsful in her intrigues with the [121] D— of C—, and the Count de Guerchy, ſo ſhe had lived with proper frugality on the favours they had beſtowed on her. During the time ſhe lived with this nobleman, ſhe had one child, as beautiful as herself; who, by her own de⯑ſire, was ſent over to France, where it now is, without knowing who are its parents, and a proper ſettlement is appointed for it.

I am now coming to the laſt adventure Miſs ELLIOT ever engaged in, before death put a period to her life. Being one day in the park, a ſervant in livery, after accoſting her very reſpectfully, put a letter into her hand, and without waiting for an anſwer retired. She ſeated herſelf on a bench, and opening the letter, found it was written by the lord H—h, requeſt⯑ing the honour of a viſit from her at his own houſe. Filled with joy at this happy e⯑vent, ſhe immediately went home, and ſat down to write a ſuitable anſwer to it. In the afternoon ſhe dreſſed herſelf in the fineſt clothes ſhe had, and went to his lordſhip's houſe, where he received her with open arms, and told her he was dying for love of her, that his life depended on her [122] ſmiles only, and proceeded to make over⯑tures to her of becoming his miſtreſs. She told him that ſhe was already engaged, but nevertheleſs had no objection to ac⯑cept of his generous offer, provided their intrigue could be carried on without the duke's knowledge. In order therefore to conceal their amour the better, they a⯑greed to meet as often as convenient at his lordſhip's houſe, which they did, and for about half a year together, without any one taking the leaſt notice of it, or ſuſpecting in the leaſt the intercourſe that paſſed between them. At the expiration of this time, his lordſhip, who was already married, received a letter from his lady, who had been at the German Spa to drink the waters, intimating that ſhe was on her return to England. This thunder⯑ſtruck his lordſhip, who was ſenſible, that on her ladyſhip's coming home, his new miſtreſs muſt decamp. He ſhewed our heroine the letter: who having read it, bid him not be at all uneaſy, for that ſhe would order mattters ſo that the moſt vi⯑gilant eye ſhould never be able to diſcover their intrigue.

[123]Miſs Elliot was however miſtaken in this, for her ladyſhip had not been in town above a month before the whole plot was revealed to her in the following manner.

This noble lord went one afternoon to Miſs ELLIOT's lodgings, where, as they were toying together, a ſervant maid be⯑longing to the houſe brought up a letter for him, from ſome gentlemen, requeſting his company at a neighbouring tavern, where they were in company with ſome young ladies of Covent Garden, with whom they intended to paſs the night. His lordſhip obeyed the ſummons, and gave the maid half a guinea, telling her not to mention to any one what ſhe had ſeen paſs between Miſs ELLIOT and him.

The all prevailing metal, had not however ſufficient influence over her, to make her obſerve his lordſhip's injunctions. She could not help telling what ſhe had ſeen as a ſecret to a fellow ſervant, who told it to another; and thus in a few days, it was known to all the domeſtics of his lordſhip's family.

[124]His lordſhip had, not long before, or⯑dered one of his footmen to be diſcharged for a trivial offence, of which in reality he had not been guilty; but which, through the malice of the ſteward, had been laid to his charge. This fellow, who now went to the houſe where his former maſter lived, hearing of the affair, reſolved, out of a principle of revenge, to acquaint his lady with it; which he found means to do by her woman, who informed her lady with all the particulars. This ac⯑count was far from being pleaſing to her; however, that ſhe might not be thought to credit a falſe report, ſhe reſolved to watch his lordſhip's motions very narrowly; and had her ſpies abroad, who kept a conſtant eye on all his proceedings.

One day her ſpies brought her word, that her lord was engaged with ſome com⯑pany to go to Ranelagh; ſhe took the hint, and diſguiſing herſelf, went thither alſo. She had not been long there before ſhe ſaw her huſband in an arbour with Miſs ELLIOT; and placing herſelf in a conve⯑nient ſpot, where ſhe could ſee all that paſſed without being perceived, ſhe be⯑held [125] them in a poſture which ſoon con⯑vinced her that ſhe had no reaſon to diſ⯑credit the report ſhe had heard. She in⯑ſtantly quitted the gardens, and returned home, firmly reſolved to let his lordſhip know, that ſhe was not unacquainted with his diſhonourable treatment of her.

She was, however, miſtaken in the ex⯑ecution of her deſign, as he did not come home till three days after; having been all that time at a bagnio with his miſtreſs, whoſe other lover happened to be gone for a fortnight into the country for his health, having lately been ill of a fever.

When his lordſhip returned, his lady received him very coolly; at which, being unable to gueſs the cauſe, he was greatly ſurpriſed. He ſeemed, however, not to take any notice, 'till the time of retiring to reſt being come, her ladyſhip refuſed to lie with him; and it was ſome time be⯑fore ſhe would conſent to tell him the rea⯑ſon of her acting in that manner. She at laſt diſcovered to him all ſhe knew of his intrigue with Miſs ELLIOT, and how ſhe had ocular proof of their intimacy [126] from what ſhe had ſeen in Ranelagh gar⯑dens. She then reproached him in the ſevereſt terms for his meanneſs of ſoul, which had ſuffered him to abandon his wife, who was a lady of quality, for the embraces of a harlot, with many other things of the like ſort.

His lordſhip after having in vain en⯑deavoured to extenuate his crime, frankly owned his guilt, on condition that his la⯑dy ſhould never reproach him for it: this ſhe generouſly promiſed, provided he alſo promiſed never to ſee Miſs ELLIOT more, to which he gave his word of honour he never would: and his future conduct plainly ſhewed that he ſpoke truth.

N—nois, who had never received the leaſt item of Miſs ELLIOT's amour with the lord H—h, grew every day more and more fond of her. He laviſhed away ſo much money on her, that ſhe was reckoned one of the richeſt of all the trading ladies in London. She continued to pay her ſiſter's penſion very conſtantly; and having informed her keep⯑er of her ſiſter's former ſtate of indigence, [127] and of the allowance ſhe gave her, he out of his generoſity ſettled fifty pound a year more on her during life, which made her income an hundred pounds a year; which, as ſhe was in a cheap country enabled her to live like a woman of rank and fortune.

The duke now received orders from his court to depart from England, where he had been miniſter plenipotentiary for ſeveral years. He propoſed to our heroine to go along with him; which ſhe complied with: and Paris opened to her a new ſcene of adventures, which were at the ſame time both ſerious and comical; tho' ſhe never embarked, as has been already ob⯑ſerved, in any intrigue ſo as to leave her keeper, with whom ſhe continued till his death, which happened about a year after he was recalled to his native country.

The firſt adventures ſhe met with was in the Thuilleries, where ſhe one day, ſoon after her arrival, met with a German count, named CZATORISKI. He very po⯑litely ſaluted her; and ſeeing ſhe was a ſtranger, deſired leave to accompany her all about the city, to ſhew her what was [128] moſt curious. This genteel propoſal ſhe liſtened to with a ſecret ſatisfaction, and accepted of it. She told him that ſhe was a lady of quality, and wife to the duke de N—nois: that therefore, as ſhe was not entirely at her own diſpoſal, he muſt obtain her huſband's conſent: this piece of cunning met with the deſired ſucceſs. She had intimated to the duke her deſire of paſſing for his wife, and he had gratified her requeſt by publicly own⯑ing her for ſuch; and all the nobility of the French court, who were very fond of her company, always gave her the appel⯑lation of dutcheſs.

The count, who was N—nois's particular friend, communicated to him his intention of accompanying Miſs EL⯑LIOT to all the places of note in Paris, and its environs; and the duke, who look⯑ed on his miſtreſs to be another LUCRETIA, gave his conſent without heſitation. Thus was our heroine carried about by CZATO⯑RISKI to every place worthy or notice; and every body remarked, that ſhe was [129] oftner ſeen in his company than in that of her huſband.

It was in one of theſe excurſions, that he began to entertain a notion that it would not be altogether impoſſible to ſuc⯑ceed in a ſcheme he had formed of at⯑tacking the fortreſs of her chaſtity. This he contrived in the following manner: he had often heard her ſay how happy ſhe conceived the French ladies muſt be, who were not kept under that reſtraint which the Engliſh ladies were; adding, that if any thing could make her wiſh not to be an Engliſh woman, it would be that of enjoying more liberty; and at the ſame time ſaid, that the faults committed by the fair ſex, in regard to the fidelity they owed their huſbands, were principally owing to their too great confinement. This ap⯑peared to the count as a fair opportunity; and he anſwered, that to be ſure ſhe was very right in her notions, and that there⯑fore, as ſhe might, in ſome ſort, be ſaid to enjoy more liberty than many others of her own ſex, he humbly conceived ſhe ought to make the beſt uſe of her time, [130] as ſhe did not know how long ſhe might live in that country to partake of the plea⯑ſures it afforded.

This diſcourſe would have been very diſguſting to any woman, whoſe inclinati⯑ons were not like thoſe of Miſs ELLIOT. To her it was the moſt delightful ſhe ever heard; and her anſwer to it was ſuch as convinced CZATORISKI, that he was not deceived in the idea he had formed of her virtue. She deferred, however, giving him too great encouragement, and kept him in ſuſpence, till ſhe found by a ſecret in⯑quiry into his connexions, that he kept at that time no leſs than three miſtreſſes, which [...] her decline any farther inter⯑courſe with him, as ſhe had not hitherto indulged him with any private interview.

A ſhort time a [...] this affair, ſhe went in company with ſome filles de joye to a noted tavern in the city; where having ſupped in c [...]mpany with ſome gentlemen, about midnight they all retired to their repoſe; and Miſs ELLIOT, who did not go there with intention to find a lover, lay by herſelf.

[131]They had not been above an hour at repoſe, before the watch, paſſing by, gave the alarm of fire: our heroine would have been the firſt to make her eſcape, could ſhe have effected it, but being in the dark, could not find her way out of the room. The fire, which happened about ten doors from the houſe were ſhe was, being ſoon extinguiſhed by proper aſſiſtance, the a⯑larmed neighbourhood retired to thier re⯑ſpective habitations.

The male lodgers of this nocturnal re⯑ſidence returned, as they thought, to their proper beds; but one of them, miſſing his own chamber, which was next to Miſs ELLIOT's, entered hers, and went to bed to her.

The miſtake was not immediately diſ⯑covered: though our heroine was far from being diſpleaſed, particularly when her unknown lover exclaimed, ‘What bliſs! What ecſtaſy! What ſenſations!’ This induced her to believe, ſhe was not the imagined object of the warm embrace. However, as ſhe conceived her lover [132] might from the firſt have taken her for his own miſtreſs, ſhe reſolved not to clear up the myſtery.

At day-break, ſhe was awaked by a mumbling clamour in the next room, by a female voice, lamenting the hard for⯑tune of being obliged to paſs the night with an impotent old dotard, while her companion kept time with the muſic of her note; being more under the influence of Morpheus than Venus.

Our heroine, deſirous of knowing the cauſe of this diſorder, aroſe, and perceived a gentleman, whom ſhe had obſerved at ſupper, at the otherſide of the threſhold: her curioſity now led her to inquire how he came to depute another to ſupply his place; and the myſtery being unraveled, ſhe was highly entertained with the miſ⯑take. The truth was, a gentleman had an intrigue with his own wife without knowing it; and her favourite man had been careſſing Miſs ELLIOT through miſ⯑take for his miſtreſs.

[133]Some time after this adventure, Miſs ELLIOT was engaged in another, which proved equally diverting with the former. An old French marquis, who was of a very amorous turn of mind, had lately been married to a young woman; who, not ſatisfied with her huſband, had left him to live with a young French officer. This old gentleman, who reſolved to be even with his wife, was looking out for ſome young woman, over whom his gold might make ſome impreſſion; and having ſeen Miſs ETLIOT at the play, reſolved to tempt her with the golden bait. Accord⯑ingly, having found out where ſhe lived, he ſent his ſervant to her with a letter, re⯑queſting leave to ſee her at her own lodg⯑ings, as he had ſomething of importance to communicate to her.

She returned for anſwer, that ſhe ſhould be very glad to ſee him the next day; and he accordingly came at the appointed time. When he entered the room where ſhe was, he ſaluted her very reſpectfully, which ſhe returned with equal politeneſs: and being ſeated, he began to tell her his errand; adding, that if ſhe proved cruel, it muſt [134] infallibly put an end to his life. Miſs ELLIOT ſmiled within herſelf at his diſ⯑courſe, and imagining the duke could not have the leaſt reaſon to object againſt her ke [...]ping company with a perſon four⯑ſcore years of age, ſhe gave him ſuch an⯑ſwers, as ſeemed to intimate, that he was far from being diſagreeable to her.

The marquis de Chancy (for that was his name) reſolved to do all he could to render himſelf agreeable to her, and ac⯑cordingly loaded her with preſents and money, jewels and other valuable things, to a very conſiderable amount; in return for all which favours he eſteemed himſelf amply recompenced, if he was ſometimes indu'ged with the favour of a kiſs, or a ſqueeze of her hand. Our heroine was perfectly well ſatisfied with her new lov⯑er, whoſe deportment was really ſo far from leaving any room for jealouſy, that it excited a deal of laughter in the duke when he was told of it; and with all the good humour imaginable, he congratu⯑lated his miſtreſs on the new conqueſt ſhe had made. The old marquis on the other [135] hand, rejoiced that he had ſucceeded ſo well in his amour with Miſs ELLIOT; and thought the revenge he was now taking on his wife for her infidelity to him, en⯑tirely adequate to her crime.

He did not however long enjoy his ſup⯑poſed happineſs. The duke de N—nois invited the old gentleman to paſs a month during the ſummer ſeaſon with him, at his country feat, at the village of Bray, ſi⯑tuated about four miles to the ſouth of Paris. While they were there, the amour between the marquis and Miſs ELLIOT was diſcovered by the officer who had ſo often adorned the old gentleman's forehead with what is eſteemed an opprobrium to married men.

Although before this diſcovery he had carried on the intrigue with very little re⯑ſtraint, he now openly avowed it; and our heroine to ſave her reputation was con⯑ſtrained to deſire him to diſcontinue his viſits, which he moſt readily complied with, as his fortune would not ſuffer him to ſupport the expence he daily in⯑curred [136] in keeping company with one ſo extravagant as Miſs ELLIOT.

It did not end here with the marquis, for the officer having told all his acquain⯑tance the affair between him and our heroine, it added not a little to the leſſen⯑ing of his character; and he therefore concluded that he had much better ſeek out ſome other miſtreſs, one who was not kept by, or had any connexion with any other men, as that would alone exempt him from the danger of being made the ridicule of all his acquaintance.

Miſs ELLIOT's next lover was a captain of foot, who behaved very generous to her, ſo as to merit her good graces in a higher degree, than any who ſolicited her favours after ſhe was kept by the marquis de Chancy. He was a man endowed with ſuch amiable qualities, that no woman could ſee him without imme⯑diately falling in love with him; and he had alſo ſuch an engaging manner, that thoſe who had been once in his company were become enamoured of him. With theſe qualifications, which were ſufficient [137] to recommend him to the love of a woman of far leſs vanity than Miſs ELLIOT, he found the way to her heart, and he had the pleaſure to ſee that he was as agreeable to her as ſhe could be to him. It may perhaps not be diſa⯑greeable to give our readers the following account of him.

He was called captain R—ſs, and was in his youth deſtined for maritime ſervice. His father, who was a gentleman of ſmall fortune in the weſt of England, had made friends to procure him the king's letter for a man of war; but as his greateſt ambition was to appear the polite man, and the ſea generally giving an air of ruſticity which frequenting the beſt company can ſcarce wear off, he was ob⯑ſtinately bent on not accepting this pro⯑poſal. Though his father had ſufficient friends at the admiralty to obtain this favour, he had none who would crown his hopes by procuring a commiſſion in the army. However, an uncle dying a⯑bout that time, and leaving him a legacy, he purchaſed with it an ensigncy in a marching regiment.

[138]He was ſoon ordered to quarters, when he gave ample teſtimony of his gentility, and genius for military affairs. He made an attack on every pretty girl in the town, taking ſome by ſurpriſe, and o⯑thers by capitulation. He ſtormed every drinking houſe at four in the morning, and where the garriſon was obſtinate made the eſcalade, and carried the liquor ſword in hand. So great was his martial ſkill and valour this way, that if he had not ſoon changed quarters, the complaints of the inhabitants would have gone a great way towards breaking him.

He was now eighteen, tall, well made, and handſome; fluent in ſpeech, and im⯑pudent in deportment; at a country town, a young lady with five thouſand pounds in her own poſſeſſion ſaw his charming perſon, and could not reſiſt him. She ogled him—ſhe wrote to him—he anſwered hear—and at laſt married her.

After enjoyment, he could ſee no other endearment than her fortune. He poſ⯑ſeſſed himſelf of it, and quitted his quar⯑ters. [139] He came to London, hired an ele⯑gant houſe, purchaſed rich furniture, and ſet up a genteel equipage; he dreſſed as well as any man in town, and kept as good company. To keep good company, and be ruined, with a young man are al⯑moſt ſynonymous terms. Two months fre⯑quenting Arthur's carried off his wife's fortune and the ſale of his commiſſion. A few levants at the chocolate-houſe pro⯑ſcribed him. Here terminated his preſent glory.

Our hero made the moſt of his effects, left his creditors an empty houſe to con⯑template, and ſet out for Briſtol, where he inſinuated himſelf into the good graces of one Mr. JACKSON, a merchant with whom he ſtill paſſed for an officer; and giving a very exact detail of the gentlemen of the corps he lately belonged to, the decep⯑tion failed not to ſucceed, and he had the addreſs to gain credit for any reaſonable ſum. He failed not to make uſe of the advantage; and for the firſt time drew only for two hundred pounds; which bill being paid on ſight, he next drew for five hundred, and the gentleman ſtill did ho⯑nour [140] to his draught, inſomuch that had not his moderation been ſurpaſſed by Mr. JACKSON's generoſity, he might have con⯑tinued drawing for any conſiderable ſum. Soon after, he paid his addreſſes to a rich merchant's daughter at Liverpool; whoſe father was dead, and had left her fortune in the hands of truſtees till ſhe was of age, one of whom ſhe then lived with.

This gentleman approved his ſuit; but before he would ſign any writings, de⯑ſired he would realize his proteſtations. This induced him to draw upon his Briſtol friend for five thouſand pounds. So great a bill proved its own abortion; for even if the gentleman had had caſh enough to anſwer it, which he had not, ſuch a capi⯑tal ſum could not fail of giving him ſome alarm; and the bill returned, with the poſt unaccepted.

Having in the interim made great ad⯑vances towards gaining his miſtreſs's heart, he went himſelf, as ſoon as the poſt came, to receive his letters, and thereby gained intelligence of the return of his bill ſeveral hours before the truſtee, who had not his [141] letters before the next morning. He now ſaw there was but one reſource to ſuc⯑ceed.

He went immediately to the young la⯑dy, who had appointed that evening for an interview; and with the utmoſt con⯑cern told her he had received a letter from London, which acquainted him with his uncle's being at the point of death, and his deſire of ſeeing his nephew before he departed this life; adding, that his uncle and he had been at ſome little variance for a good while, and that he flattered himſelf, that if he could arrive in town time enough to be reconciled to him, he ſhould have ſufficient influence over him, to get reinſtated in his will in lieu of his brother, who, ſince the breach, had ſupplied the place: that therefore he propoſed ſeting out that evening; and yet the thought of leaving his charmer ſtruck far deeper into his heart than the loſs of the fortune he might obtain: that he was ſenſible, to pro⯑poſe a journey before they were married, might create in her ſome ſuſpicion of his intentions: that it would be impoſſible to get the ceremony performed that even⯑ing: [142] and that he doubted not her guar⯑dian would oppoſe her intentions, if they were inclined to take ſuch a journey: that therefore if ſhe had a mind to prevent his being the moſt miſerable man in the world, ſhe muſt ſet out with him in a poſt-chaiſe incog. that evening, without the know⯑ledge of her truſtee; and that to prevent all tear on her ſide, they ſhould be mar⯑ried the next morning at the firſt town they came to.

However plauſible this ſtory, and how⯑ever ſeriouſly, and happily related, ſhe could not fail of being ſhocked at the thoughts of ſo precipate a journey, with⯑out the privacy of any of her friends. But ſo great was her attachment grown, that ſhe could not reflect upon her being the imaginary cauſe of her lover's loſing ſo fair a proſpect of being in his uncle's will without the utmoſt repugnance; and to be made a woman and a wife the next morning, was what ſhe ſo much approv⯑ed, that her inclination ſurmounted her reaſon, and ſhe agreed to ſet out between two and three for London.

[143]With all imaginable privacy, they got into a poſt-chaiſe, which ſet out at the time appointed; and her maid and his ſer⯑vant followed them about an hour after with the baggage belonging to the young officer and his miſtreſs.

Agreeable to his promiſe, he made a bride of her at the firſt town they came to, and they then continued their journey without the leaſt precipitancy.

As ſoon as the truſtee was acquainted with the flight of the lady, he made in⯑quired all over the town, in order to be informed what rout the fugitives had taken; imagining, however, that it might be a frolic, as he expected that day to re⯑ceive, by the return of the poſt, advice from his correſpondent of the payment of the bill; but when he was informed that two poſt-chaiſes ſet out that morning for Lon⯑don, and that his ward was actually gone in one of them, in company with her lover, he was greatly ſtaggered in his opinion. The receipt of the letters from Briſtol ſoon fixed it, and determined him to ſet out immediately in purſuit of the lady.

[144]He overtook the lovers at an inn on the road, and after ſaluting them, deſired to know whether they were going. The of⯑ficer anſwered, to London. This, the other ſaid, he might do, but his ward muſt return with him, for that our hero was an impoſtor; ſhowing the letter he had received from Briſtol.

The lady ſeemed greatly ſurpriſed at this, while her huſband inſiſted that ſome body had anſwered that letter in his name, on purpoſe to prejudice him in the lady's favour. The guardian replied, that ſuch ſubterfuges were too glaring to impoſe on him, and that the lady ſhould not ſtep one inch farther with him.

The chaiſe being ready at the inn door at this time, they came out, and he ad⯑dreſſed his wife in theſe terms: ‘Madam, do you chuſe to go with me, who am your lawful huſband, or with that old gentleman?’ At this interrogation ſhe ſtretched out her hand, he helped her in, and left her guardian and the reſt of the ſpectators, in the greateſt conſternation.

[145]They immediately repaired to London, and by means of publiſhing his marriage with an heireſs (as ſhe really was) of eight thouſand pounds fortune, he got as much credit as he wanted, though he was oblig⯑ed to give 20 per cent. intereſt for ready money. By this means they lived in an elegant and luxurious manner, and to all appearance no couple were ſo happy as capt. R—ſs and his wife.

The time of her being at age came which was ſixteen months after the mar⯑riage was celebrated, and the huſband wrote to her truſtee for all her papers, which he refuſed at firſt to deliver; but at length finding capt. R—ſs was reſo⯑lute, he complied; and our hero was put in poſſeſſion of all her fortune.

But after the debts lie had contracted ſince his marriage were paid, and alſo the ready money borrowed, with intereſt, was returned to thoſe who had lent it, he had but three thouſand pounds left, which, he ſound by experience, would laſt but a ſhort time, at the rate they then lived in keeping houſe. Upon this he told his wife [146] the neceſſity there was of retiring into the country, and living frugally. She conſent⯑ed to it; and accordingly ſet out for York⯑ſhire, where he boarded her at a farm⯑houſe for twenty pounds a year.

With the remainder of his wife's fortune he returned to London, and gamed, whored, drank, and committed every ſpecies of extravagance, till it was pretty near exhauſted. He then thought it time to recruit; and recollecting that a diſ [...] relation of his, an old methodiſt woman, lived in Yorkſhire, ſaid to be [...] twelve hundred pounds, he immediately ſet out for the place: but, finding ſhe converſed with none but thoſe of her own ſect, he was under an obligation of be⯑coming a convert to get acceſs to her; and no body pronounced, ‘We are all irre⯑trievably damned’ better than himſelf. In a word he was a ſtaunch methodiſt.

So young and handſome a proſelyte was the admiration of all the congregation, particularly the female part; and being taken notice of by the old lady for his ſanctity, he found means to gain acceſs by preſenting her with a new edition of [147] Mr. Weſley's ſermons, which was ſo ac⯑ceptable to her, that ſhe thought that ſhe could never ſufficiently acknowledge the favour. She imagined that Mr. White⯑field and Mr. Weſley were the only two good men in the world; but ſhe then be⯑gan to think there was a third, a young ſaint both in thought and deed.

After he had thus inſinuated himſelf into her good graces, he began to feel her pulſe upon the ſcore of matrimony. No⯑thing ever appeared ſo inanimate and rigid at firſt: but when he began to talk of ſpiritual love, unſullied with luſtful thoughts, ſhe gave ear to him, and was at length of opinion, that a woman might enter into the ſtate of matrimony only, without being irretrievably damned, pro⯑vided there were always ſeperate beds. He entirely acquieſced in whatever ſhe ſaid; and after about half a year's ſpiri⯑tual courtſhip, they took each other for better for worſe.

He left her as ſoon as he could poſſeſs himſelf of her money, telling her, that ſhe neither wanted gold, or a young fellow to [148] carry her to heaven; and that, as ſhe had fixed her mind entirely on ſpiritual things, it was doing her a great kindneſs to take temptations far out of the way.

The captain again returned to London, where meeting with an old flame, he took a lodging with her, and lived ſnug for ſome time, but his caſh circulating too faſt at the gaming table, he was obliged to have recourſe to drawing upon ſeveral friends for money; but few or them an⯑ſwered his bills, and what little money he procured from them, with the utmoſt dif⯑ficulty, laſted but a ſhort time. He mar⯑ried ſix different wives in three months, whoſe fortunes, put together, made but two hundred pounds, and their ages three hundred years.

He now introduced himſelf to the ac⯑quaintance of one Stroud, who had found a comfortable means of livelihood, by hiring houſes, furniſhing them upon cre⯑dit, and diſpoſed of the furniture. He engaged with him in his plan, which at firſt proved better than the wife-trade, for [149] in leſs than ſix weeks, they cleared two thouſand pounds.

They did not, however continue long ſucceſſful; for ſoon after Stroud was ta⯑ken up for one of thoſe frauds, which captain R—fs thought a ſufficient hint for him to decamp. Accordingly he went to Paris, having no other depen⯑dence than the ready money he had car⯑ried with him thither.

He firſt paid his addreſſes to Miſs EL⯑LIOT, as one whom he moſt ardently deſired to make his wife; but ſhe had too much penetration, as ſhe was already acquainted with his character from ſeveral of his in⯑timates in the city where ſhe reſided, to ſuf⯑fer herſelf, who had taken a firm reſoluti⯑on of never entering into the married ſtate, to liſten to the overtures he had made he [...]. She was not averſe to his perſon, and would have been very willing to have been his miſtreſs, had his finances been anſwer⯑able to the high demands ſhe made on her lovers; but as he was low in caſh, ſhe thought it beſt to give him his congè at firſt; and accordingly, ordered her ſer⯑vants [150] to deny her to him, as often as be⯑came; till after ſome time being weary of theſe repeated denials, he reſolved to leave off frequenting her houſe, and was never afterwards ſeen there.

Our heroine had now lived near a twelve month with the duke de N—NOIS, who was extremely fond of her; and ſhe had always employed every means her inven⯑tion could ſuggeſt to her, to increaſe his affection towards her. But as people of an uneven temper cannot poſſibly be ſuppoſ⯑ed always to act conſiſtent to their true intereſt, ſo neither did Miſs ELLIOT; ſhe having the misfortune to incur her keep⯑er's diſpleaſure, by being diſcovered in an intrigue with his grace's ſecretary, for which he diſmiſſed her, and ſhe prepared to ſet out immediately for her native country.

I cannot take leave of Paris, whither I have accompanied our heroine, without ſome few remarks on the poverty and pride of the French, whoſe ambition and vanity are evidently without a parallel, as the fol⯑lowing example will clearly evince.

[151]Walking one day in the gardens of Verſailles, all eyes were in a minute on her, and ſhe was not leſs attentive to the many objects that ſurrounded her: They were all in maſquerade to her, even if ſhe had before known them; for not only the women were painted, but even the men. The fops and petit maitres wore patches and rouge. After ſhe had been preſented to ſome of la premiere nobleſſe, as an Eng⯑liſh lady of faſhion; ſhe aſked the duke, who was with her, concerning many of thoſe whom ſhe ſaw. A gentleman, with a red feather, firſt attracted her obſervati⯑on: She aſked who he was; taking him for ſome foreign ambaſſador. The duke replied, he was a chevalier de St. Louis, who had nothing more than a penſion of three hundred livres to live on. Miſs EL⯑LIOT'S curioſity then led her to inquire if he followed any buſineſs: but ſhe was an⯑ſwered in the negative; it being too great a diſgrace on a native of France, to be of any trade, unleſs that of a bottle-blower, which they eſteem far beyond being a merchant.

[152]She was much ſurprized at what had been told her concerning the gentleman with the red feather, though ſhe could not then divine the myſtery; yet ſhe at length underſtood it, on being told, that ſuch is the temper of the French, that they will rather ſtarve than work, except they are employed in a glaſs houſe, which they e⯑ſteem an honour; though they look on the profeſſion of a merchant as an abſolute diſgrace.

She next inquired of the duke, the name of a lady whom ſhe ſaw dreſſed in a ſumptuous ſuit of cloaths and very rich jewels. She was anſwered, that it was mademoiſelle COIGNI, who, in ſpight of all that her relations could do, would not be confined to a nunnery, which is the method of getting rid of younger daugh⯑ters in popiſh countries: that indeed, a very rich match had been offered her from one of the farmers general, worth three millions of livres; but that her father, who was of the beſt blood in France, had, with truly honourable indignation, refuſ⯑ed to debaſe his family by ſuch an alliance; [153] and as his daughter would not retire to a convent, he had laid out all the money which he had deſtined for placing her there for life (which was her only portion) in cloaths and jewels: and that the chevalier de St. Louis, whom they had been juſt talking of, was pitched on for her intend⯑ed huſband.

Our readers will, I dare ſay, be unable to help teſtifiying their ſurpriſe at ſuch a noble beggar's wedding; and the more ſo when they are informed, that the lady's father, notwithſtanding his great deſcent, had not intereſt enough to procure a ſubaltern commiſſion in the army, or any, poſt equivalent.

But to wave theſe remarks, and turn to the main point, Miſs ELLIOT, having, as already ſhown, had the misfortune to diſoblige her keeper, prepared herſelf for a journey with all convenient ſpeed; and at the end of three days, having packed up all her things, ſhe ſet out in a poſt chaiſe attended by three ſervants for Calais, the duke paying all the expences of her [154] journey, and preſenting her with a bank note of five hundred pounds.

Our female Traveller made ſo much haſte to get out of France, that in forty eight hours ſhe reached Abbeville. When ſhe arrived there, ſhe alighted out of the chaiſe to refreſh herſelf; and as ſhe was ſitting in a room in the inn, ſhe ſaw a young woman in a riding dreſs ſtop at the houſe where ſhe was, and diſmounting from her horſe enter at the gate. Miſs ELLIOT imagined ſhe knew her face; and her curioſity was ſo great, that in order to ſatisfy it, ſhe was prompted to take a near⯑er view of her. She accordingly quitted the room where ſhe then was, and walked our to obſerve the ſtranger better. She was greatly ſurpriſed, when ſhe found that it was her old acquaintance Miſs Ham⯑mond. Our heroine made her go into her room, where being ſeated, ſhe gave her the following account of her reaſons for leaving England: and as they are too cloſely connected with her hiſtory to be ſeperated from it, I ſhall take the liberty to treſpaſ s a little on my readers patience, [155] while I relate them in the moſt conciſe manner poſſible.

She was the only daughter of Mr. Hammond, a rich merchant in—Street, who gave her an education ſuitable to her birth, and the fortune he deſigned to give her. dancing muſick, Italian and French, added to her figure, could not fail of procuring her an early train of lovers. Innocence, the happieſt ſtate of mortals, and her mother's care, protected her from all diſhonourable attacks. Many matches were propoſed for her, but either birth or fortune was deficient in the ſuitors.

She happened once at an aſſembly to ſee a gentleman, who was as much a ſtranger to her as ſhe was to him. He took her out to dance, and whiſpered to her fre⯑quently about the force of her charms; all which the innocent maid conſtrued as the effect of his good breeding. The next day produced from him a letter full of knight errantry, with flames and darts at every line. Miſs Hammond looked on this letter in its true light, thinking it, [156] rather a teſtimony of his luſt, than of hi [...] love.

When he found her inexorable to all his fine ſpeeches and letters, he left the place, though not without ſome ſtratagems to carry her off. A year elapſed, without her hearing any more of him, and he was entirely obliterated.

At the end of this time, a man ſeem⯑ingly a gentleman, who pretended to be a Scotchman, fell in love with her. Her mother was then dead,, and her father had now an opportunity of diſpoſing of her, as he imagined, much to her advantage. Her intended huſband propoſed deferring the ceremony about a month, that there might be time to agree on the articles of her marriage ſettlement. The ceremony of her nuptials was performed by her huſ⯑band's ſuppoſed brother, at his own cham⯑bers in the temple, and the conſummation was to be at the ſame place.

When the hour of connubial felicity ap⯑proached, her huſband led her to her chamber, and retired through decency, as [157] ſhe ſuppoſed, till ſhe was in bed. He then returned; and having undreſſed him⯑ſelf, and extinguiſhed the candles, came to her as ſhe thought. But how great was her ſurpriſe in the morning, when ſhe diſ⯑cover'd in bed her former lover, and not her huſband.

She flew out of bed, and with the ut⯑moſt rage called murder! villains! but there were no ſervants, no perſons to an⯑ſwer to her call; while her raviſher, with all the art of premeditated treachery, en⯑deavoured to palliate his crime, urging the fervency of his paſſion, and the various means he had, without ſucceſs, tried to obtain her. The more he reaſoned, the more ſhe raved. She called for her hus⯑band; he anſwered not. At length ſhe ſunk under the oppreſſion of calamity; her ſpirits were exhauſted, and ſhe fell into a ſwoon. When ſhe recovered, her huſband appeared before her, and with a truly ſy⯑cophantic air, hoped ſhe was better. Un⯑able to refrain, even in her then preſent condition, ſhe upbraided him with his per⯑fidy. He denied every accuſation, and ſwore the night had been the moſt joyful [158] he had ever had: that no man had been in her chamber but himſelf; adviſing her to be a little compoſed, as ſhe was not as yet recovered.

When he perceived ſhe could not be perſuaded out of her reaſon, he frankly acknowledged the whole plan of villainy; that he was no other than Mr. HAYNES the pimp; that he had been employed by Lord— to ſeduce her, under pre⯑tence of marriage; that the ceremony was not lawful; and that he had received five hundred pounds, beſides the reim⯑burſenrent of all expences, to let his lord⯑ſhip, who was ſecreted ready in a cloſet in her chamber, till ſuch time as the candles were extinguiſhed, poſſeſs her the firſt night in his ſtead.

The pimp, without any attention to her affliction, continued to harangue her on the moſt adviſable method of her con⯑duct. He admoniſhed her to endeavour to get into the good graces of his lordſhip, as much by her prudent behaviour, as ſhe was by her perſon; and he added, that he [159] doubted not but his lordſhip would make a handſome proviſion for her.

In this melancholy ſituation ſhe wrote her whole unhappy affair, with every mi⯑nute circumſtance, to her father, but did not receive any anſwer. She was on the point of ſetting out for Shrewſbury, where her father was at that time, when ſhe was told by a perſon, that her relations and friends, would diſown her, and have her ſecured as a proſtituted vagabond. She therefore reſolved to quit her native coun⯑ry, and endeavour to procure a ſubſiſ⯑tence by ſome honeſt means among fo⯑reigners.

Miſs ELLIOT liſtened very attentively to the recital of her misfortunes; and when ſhe had made an end, very kindly gave her ten louisd'ors; and, wiſhing her ſucceſs in her undertaking, ſhe took her leave, and purſued her journey to Calais.

She alighted at the Silver Lyon, and immediately ſent one of her ſervants to engage a place for her in the packet-boat, which was expected to ſail that night. [160] The captain of the veſſel went to her agreed with her for the paſſage, and pro⯑miſed to give her proper notice of the time of ſailing; and ſhe having ordered ſupper, went and laid down to reſt herſelf from the fatigues ſhe had undergone in her journey from Paris.

Supper being ready, ſhe was called, and having eat hearty, ſhe waited the captain's meſſenger with the news of ſailing. He came in about a quarter of an hour after ſhe had ſupped; ſhe embarked, and in three Hours time was at Dover. Here ſhe went on ſhore about nine o'clock in the morning, and having hired a poſt⯑chaiſe, ſhe arrived in London that even⯑ing.

She had ſent Letters to London, to provide genteel lodgings near St. James's, whither, on her arrival, ſhe repaired. Her ſtay however, in her native country, was very ſhort; for a few months after, ſhe took a long journey into that unknown land, from whoſe bourn no weary traveller returns.

[161]Some years had now paſſed ſince ſhe had ſeen her old friend M—y. She reſolv'd therefore to pay him a viſit; and accord⯑ingly made diligent enquiry to find out the place of his abode. She learned that he lived in Lincoln's-Inn, and having applied himſelf to the ſtudy of the law, was become a ſolicitor. The day after ſhe receiv'd this welcome news, ſhe dreſſed herſelf in her moſt coſtly apparel, and went to ſee him.

He did not at firſt recollect who ſhe was; but at length being ſatisfied in that particular, he ſlew to her arms with all the raptures of the moſt paſſionate lovers; hung on her neck, ſmothered her with kiſſes, and was obſerved by her to ſhed tears; ſo much had joy taken poſſeſſion of his ſoul. She, on her part, was not back⯑ward in giving him the moſt convincing proofs of her affection towards him. They then gave each other as ſuccinct an ac⯑count, as their memories would allow, of the various accidents which had befallen, during their long abſence; and concluded with mutually promiſing each other, that [162] being once more met together, they would never part.

They viſited each other almoſt every day, and never parted without aſſurances on both ſides of the tender regard they had for each other.

M—y repreſented to Miſs ELLIOT, that being now rich enough to live in a genteel independence, without re-entering into her former ſlate of life, he thought it highly conſiſtent with prudence, that ſhe ſhould make her will, and ſettle her con⯑cerns as ſoon as convenient. This advice ſhe greatly approved of, and therefore de⯑ſired him to draw it up for her, but he declined the office, leſt the cenſorious world ſhould ſay that the deed was rather his than that of our heroine.

Miſs ELLIOT applied to an attorney of Gray's Inn, to whom ſhe had been re⯑commended by M—y, who for the uſual fee made her one, and ſhe cauſed it to be regiſter'd in the Commons in pro⯑per form; and this matter being adjuſted, ſhe and her old lover went to paſs a few [163] days at a country houſe ſhe had hired at Turnham-green, where they paſſed their time in the moſt agreeable manner poſſible, till a moſt fatal accident damped their joy and coſt Miſs ELLIOT her life.

One day at dinner, having eaten too heartily of a melon, ſhe found herſelf out of order, and lay down to try if a little re⯑poſe would be of ſervice to her. She got up again in about half an hour, imagin⯑ing ſhe was better; and the ſame night, as ſhe and her lover were in bed, ſhe grew very bad, inſomuch that the immediate attendance of a phyſician was indiſpenſably neceſſary. As there was none of note in the place where ſhe then was, Mr. M—y ordered a ſervant to ſaddle him a horſe, and he ſet out full ſpeed for London, to fetch to her aſſiſtance the ableſt he could find of the faculty. He returned in about two hours, and brought with him two of the moſt renowned in all their proſeſſion.

When they arrived, they enquired into the origin of Miſs ELLIOT'S diſorder; and being acquainted with it, they gave it as their opinion, that ſhe ought to be con⯑veyed [164] directly to London, where more proper care would be taken of her than where ſhe was; adding, that this could not be done too ſoon, as a delay in her removal might be attended with the moſt fatal conſequences: Their orders were obeyed, and our heroine was carried to London in a chaiſe; where, being arrived, ſhe was put to bed, and to the great grief of all preſent, ſhe appeared to grow every hour worſe.

About a week after her return to Lon⯑don, ſhe ſeemed rather better, and con⯑tinued mending for ſeveral days, when the fever, which raged with great violence in her, reſumed its former inveteracy: and thus, if I am allowed the expreſſion, ſhe continued ebbing and flowing ſometimes better, at other times much worſe for a⯑bove a month. Having continued in this ſtate for the above mentioned time, her diſeaſe quite baffled the phyſicians art, and they entirely gave her over.

Being made acquainted with the judg⯑ment the doctors, who had conſulted together on her diſorder, had paſſed on it, [165] and finding that the grim tyrant death was inexorable, ſhe prepared to meet her fate with courage and reſignation. She earn⯑eſtly deſired to ſee her father and her ſiſter before ſhe died, and a meſſenger was in⯑ſtantly diſpatched to Tunbridge to ac⯑quaint him with Miſs ELLIOT'S deſire. The ſiſter, who reſided in Wales, was then at Tunbridge on a viſit to her father They no ſooner received the melancholly news, than they immediately ſet out for London.

A pious clergyman attended her in her illneſs; and all who were about her had the pleaſure to find that ſhe expreſſed great compunction for her failings. She was often heard to exclaim, May my much offended God prepare me to meet death with Chriſtian fortitude; and may I, oh! may I meet with mercy at the throne of grace!

When the miniſter had made an end of his prayers and pious exhortations, Mr. M—y ¹ went into the chamber, and [166] kneeling by her bedſide, kiſſed her with great earneſtneſs, and begged of her, that if he had ever diſobliged her in any re⯑ſpect to forgive him. She ſighed and ſaid ſhe was too guilty a ſinner, and had too much need of forgiveneſs herſelf to deny it to any body, who had done any injury to her. That ſo far from having offended her, ſhe was greatly indebted to him for the love and affection he had always bore to her.—Having ſaid this, ſhe recli⯑ned her head gently on the pillow, and turning on her right ſide, ſhe died with all the calmneſs of a compoſed mind without even uttering a groan, in the twenty⯑ſeventh year of her age.

Her father and ſiſter had not the mourn⯑ful ſatisfaction of embracing her before ſhe expired. When her death was an⯑nounced, he ſeized his remaining child by the hand, and pointing to her ſiſter's emaciated body, pathetically exclaimed, " Look there!" and immediately ſunk down into a ſwoon, from which he was with great difficulty recovered.

[167]Thus lived, thus died, the beautiful, the kind, the ſenſible, the frail NANNY ELLIOT.

Mr. M—y was deſired by all who were preſent to take the charge of her funer [...]l on himſelf; which, however, he reluctantly complied with; and ſhe was, by her own deſire, buried in a private man⯑ner, in order to avoid the confuſion of a crowd, who would all flock to ſee ſo noted a perſon interred. There was a funeral ſermon preached at her burial; and the few friends, together with her domeſtics who attended her to the church-yard, ſhed abundance of tears, teſtifying the moſt intenſe ſorrow at her deceaſe.

The following is a genuine copy of a letter, written by our heroine, two days before her death, and delivered by her particular deſire, after her interment, as directed.[168]

This letter Mr. M—y preſerves as the dearſt pledge he ever had of the love Miſs ELLIOT had for him. He refuſed the executorſhip of her will, and it de⯑volved on one of her neareſt relations, who acquitted himſelf with the greateſt honour and integrity. The bulk of her fortune, amounting to near ten thouſand pounds, ſhe bequeathed to her indigent relations.

I cannot take leave of my readers with⯑out making ſome few moral reflections on the miſerable condition of thoſe unhappy women, whoſe circumſtances oblige them to owe their ſubſiſtence to proſtitution. They may be conſidered in two claſſes: The firſt are thoſe, who, loſt to every [170] ſenſe or virtue, are engaged in this deteſ⯑table way of life by choice: others are under the cruel neceſſity of ſubmitting to all the evils which attend the life of proſti⯑tutes, becauſe they are abandoned by their parents, relations, friends, and acquain⯑tance, for having too eaſily liſtened to the deluſive perſuaſions of the deceiver, man; which generally terminate in the deſtruction of thoſe unhappy girls, who are too eaſily perſuaded to their own ruin. How many are there now in our ſtreets, who once knew the happineſs of treading the paths of virtue, but who are now im⯑merged in the gulph of wickedneſs, de⯑ſerred by all who knew them, for one falſe ſtep; which perhaps was more owing to the influence which ſome villain had over their innocent and inexperienced minds, than to a natural inclination for vice. Many of theſe would with joy embrace any opportunity which offers of getting bread in ſome other ſhape, rather than continue any longer in their preſent miſery. The wiſdom of our legiſlature has taken this into conſideration, and a proper place has been provided for the reception of ſuch as were found willing to reform their aban⯑doned [171] lives; and we ſee the ſalutary ef⯑effects of this inſtitution, by the rapid pro⯑greſs already made in the reclaiming of a great many. Oh man! how canſt thou with ſuch glaring impudence look up to heaven, the ſeat of the Almighty, after having ſo ſhamefully effected the ruin of the faireſt part of the creation, by robbing, them of the moſt ineſtimable treaſure they poſſeſſed, their virtue; and thereby ſub⯑jected them to a life of diſorder and miſery, which muſt inevitably terminate in deſpair. How deplorable is the ſitua⯑tion of thoſe who have been hurried on to their own ruin in this world, and eternal perdition in the next. I could wiſh that a law were enacted, obliging every man who thus ſeduces a virtuous girl, either to marry the object of their luſt, or make ſuch a proviſion for her as would entirely, ſcreen her from the neceſſity of ſeeking a livelihood by becoming a common proſti⯑tute; or elſe be condemned to immediate death, after lawful conviction of the crime.

It may be objected that many would do this, but through indigence of cir⯑cumſtances [172] are incapable of it. Let them conſider before hand, for in this caſe no⯑thing ought to ſhelter them from the pu⯑niſhment they incur by thus effecting the ruin of an innocent young woman. If this proceeding were once adopted, how many women, who at preſent are a ſcan⯑dal to their ſex, would then live ornaments to human ſociety, and their beauty and virtue would be revered by all who are any way connected with them.

The other claſs of unhappy women is compoſed of ſuch who are ſo by their own choice: and even ſome of theſe are in⯑bebted for their firſt introduction to wick⯑edneſs, to the traitor man. Others there are indeed, who have been the firſt to ſoli⯑cit our ſex to ruin them. But let theſe reflect, that conſcience is the faithful re⯑giſter of all our actions, the unbiaſſed wit⯑neſs of our conduct, and the equitable judge of all we do. When conſcience ap⯑proves of our actions, we find in it a re⯑ſource in all our afflictions, we are helped by it to ſupport under the weight of mis⯑fortunes; and we are thereby aſſured of [173] one day being admitted to a participation of eternal joys.

On the contrary, when conſcience con⯑demns us, the ſentence is followed by re⯑morſe, by puniſhments, by deſpair, which will inevitably plunge us; at the laſt day, into an abyſs of endleſs miſery, where, as the poet Tibullus beautifully expreſſes it,

Or, as Horace ſays,

We ought not therefore to judge of the rectitude or depravity of our actions, by the dictamen of our unbridled paſſions; but ſubmit them to the deciſion of conſci⯑ence. The ſupreme beings, creator of all things, has given us it, as the infallible rule whereby we are to regulate our lives.

This being therefore the caſe, how great muſt be the inward torment of ſuch wo⯑men as are ingulphed in this fathomleſs ſea of wickedneſs! What would they not give. [174] to enjoy one hour's tranquillity of mind! But this is denied them; and the only re⯑ſource they have left is to have recourſe ro ſtrong liquors, as often as thoſe thoughts enter their minds, in order to drown the remembrance of what would infallibly make them run mad, did they ſuffer themſelves to think coolly on it.

Although they were to ſuffer nothing in the next world; although their ſouls were not immortal; yet the miſeries which attend them, would be ſufficient, one would imagine, to deter them from continuing in their preſent wicked courſe. How of⯑ten are they obliged to walk the ſtreets all the night; ſubject to the inclemency of the ſeaſon, deſtitute of a lodging, nor ha⯑ving money to procure one: hungry and cold, without hopes of relief; kicked by any drunken rake who ſhall think fit to treat them in that barbarous manner. How many of them rot in an hoſpital! Some even turned out from thoſe recep⯑tacles of the indiſpoſed, at laſt have finiſh⯑ed their days on a dunghill. What hor⯑rors of [...] muſt they experience in their [...], when their guilty con⯑ſciences [175] reproach them with all their wick⯑edneſs? What indignation muſt they not conceive againſt themſelves for having brought ſo many ills on their own heads? How bitter the reflection of having cur⯑tailed their own life by incontinency? How will they curſe the hour in which they firſt proſtituted their lovely bodies, deſigned for the enjoyment of the chaſte joys of holy matrimony. In ſhort thoſe only who have been in this unhappy ſtate can form a juſt idea of it.

Since therefore the life of a woman of this character is ſo replete with misfortune; whether ſhe be ſuch by choice or neceſſity, take warning ye unguarded fair! Liſten not to the falſe perſuaſive voice of thoſe would lead you to ruin. Be deaf to all their proteſtations of love: pay no regard to their oaths and imprecations, much leſs to their promiſes of marrying you, after they enjoy your perſons; for you may be certain they will deceive you. They only do this to deceive you, for they never (or at leaſt very rarely happens) will conſent to take her for a wife, who could ſo eaſily-conſent to their embraces, before [176] marriage. They cannot be induced to believe that a woman will ever be faithful to them after ſuch a ſtep; and even ſome deſpiſe the poor deluded fair, who raſhly complied with their deſires. Man is in ſome ſenſe the moſt rational of the creation. Few are able to curb the impetuoſity of the ſenſual appetite which is common to them with brutes, and they may be ſaid to be lions, who go up and down ſeeking whom they may devour.

Conſider, ye deluded fair, the ſhortneſs of your Life. This is generally forgotten in the ſlumber of wickedneſs. So deeply is the love of pleaſure rooted in mens hearts, and ſo ſtrongly guarded by hope and fear againſt the approach of reaſon, that nei⯑ther ſcience nor experience can ſhake it, and they act as if life was without end, though they ſee and confeſs its uncertain⯑ty and ſhortneſs.

If it has been your misfortune ever to be engaged in a life of wickedneſs, repent now, you yet have time. It is the ſame weakneſs now to defer repenting of your ſins, in proportion to the importance of [177] the neglect, as to defer any care, which now claims your attention, to a future time. You cannot promiſe yourſelves long life; and even though you could, it is eaſier to conceive ſorrow for a few failings, than when the ſoul, by a long uninter⯑rupted courſe of ſin, is, as it were, co⯑vered all over with a callus; for although the motives of repentance are ſo much the ſtronger in proportion as the offences a⯑gainſt the great Creator of mankind are heinous, or numerous, yet, when the heart is hardened, it is with the greateſt diſſiculty made to receive any impreſſion of piety.

Let the errors and follies, the dangers and infelicity of that ſtate, ſink deep into your hearts. Remember, that human life is the journey of a day. We riſe in the morning of youth, full of vigour, and full of expectation: We ſet forward with ſpirit and hope, with gaiety and daily care, and travel a while in the ſtraight road of piety towards the manſions of reſt: in a ſhort time we remit our fervour, and en⯑deavour to find ſome mitigation of our duty, and ſome more eaſy means of ob⯑taining [178] the ſame end. We then relax our vigour, and reſolve no longer to be terri⯑fied with crimes at a diſtance, but rely on our own conſtancy, and venture to ap⯑proach what we reſolve never to touch.

We are then willing to enquire whether another advance cannot be made; and whether we may not at leaſt, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleaſure. We ap⯑proach them with ſcruple and heſitation: we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to paſs thro' them without loſing the road of virtue, which we for a while keep in our ſight, and to which we purpoſe to return.

But temptation ſucceeds temptation; and one compliance prepares for another. We in time loſe the happineſs of innocence, and ſolace our diſquiet with ſenſual gratifi⯑cations. By degrees we let fall the re⯑membrance of our original intention, and quit the only object of rational deſire. We entangle ourſelves in buſineſs, immerge ourſelves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinth of inconſtancy, till the darkneſs of old age begins to invade us, and diſeaſes [179] and anxiety obſtruct our way. We then look back on our lives with horror, with ſorrow, with repentance, and wiſh, but too often vainly wiſh, that we had not for⯑ſaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they who learn from example not to be wicked.

I hope my readers will excuſe the pro⯑lixity I have uſed in penning the above. I have now done, and I muſt beg them to receive this as written only with a view of conveying delight with inſtruction, and to wean thoſe unhappy females from vice who are enthralled in it; and guard thoſe againſt it, who are as yet unacquainted with guilt. How I have ſucceeded is left to the impartial public, who I humbly hope will receive it with that candour with which they approve of any attempt to yield them pleaſure or ſatisfaction.