MEMOIRS OF Mrs. Letitia Pilkington.

A Third Volume of Memoirs is really a bold Undertaking, as they are generally light, frothy, and vain; yet I have met with ſuch un⯑hop'd Succeſs, that I am quite encouraged to proceed; more eſpecially as my Word is paſs'd to the Publick; and my Word I have ever held ſacred. I cannot, like a certain Female Writer, ſay, I hope if I have done nothing to pleaſe, I have done nothing to offend; for truly I mean to give both Pleaſure and Offence: Lemon and Sugar is very pretty. I ſhould be ſorry to write a Satire which did not [2] ſting, nor will I ever write a Panegyrick on an Undeſerver: If a Rogue ſhould happen to be mine honeſt Friend, I owe him Silence; but that is the moſt he can expect.

Many indeed are glad to become Pur⯑chaſers of it. Perſons whom I know nothing of, come and beg I may not put them into the Third Volume; and they will ſubſcribe: Surely then they ſhould knock at their own Hearts; and if it confeſs a natural Guiltineſs,

I threaten not any, nor did I ever do it; but Characters are my Game, who

I ſhould now be glad to know how I could proſecute my own Hiſtory without intermingling that of others; I have not lived in Deſarts, where no Men abide, nor in a Cave, like Eccho; therefore it [3] is no more in my power to grant ſuch unreaſonable Requeſts, when a Book is requir'd of me, than it is in that of an hiſtorical Painter to give a good Piece, when he is poſitively commanded never to draw the Likeneſs of any thing in Heaven or on Earth.

But, Oh my dear LADIES, why are you ſo frightened? Why ſo many Supplica⯑tions to a Perſon unacquainted with you? Have you all then a ſore Place, which you are afraid I ſhould touch? But now^*, I ſay this to you, or to the ſame Defect: Ladies, or moſt fair Ladies, I would re⯑queſt you not to fear, not to tremble; my Life for yours, if you think I come as a Lion, 'twere Pity of my Life: No, no, I am no ſuch thing; I am a Woman, as other Women are—

But, after all, it does not a little ſur⯑priſe me, that every Perſon who ſuffers a Panick, leſt their own Reputations ſhould be attack'd, has not a little Com⯑paſſion for that of another: No, no! let [4] them find a Flaw in a Brilliant, and by the Help of their magnifying Talents, they ſhall dim it all over: If they look upon this as a Virtue, 'tis one I ſhall never be emulous of.

I remember Doctor Swift told me, he once dined at a Perſon's Houſe, where the Part of the Table-Cloth, which was next to him, happened to have a ſmall Hole in it, which, ſays he, I tore as wide as I could; then aſked for ſome Soop, and fed myſelf through the Hole. The Dean, who was a great Friend to Houſ⯑wifery, did this to mortify the Lady of the Houſe; but, upon my Word, by the general Love of Scandal and De⯑traction in Dublin, one might reaſonably imagine they were all to feed themſelves through the Holes, which they had made in the Characters of others: ‘But 'tis of no Conſequence to me; as Treaſon and Malice now have done their worſt. Shakeſpear.’

Reputation once gone is never to be retriev'd: The Wiſe ſay, it is as often [5] gain'd without Merit, as loſt without a Crime; ſo I muſt comfort myſelf the beſt I can. The Fable of Reputation, Fire, and Water, is too well known to want a Recital; and, to quote a Paragraph from a late Letter of Mr. CIBBER'S to me, in Anſwer to one of mine, wherein I had acquainted him, that a Gentleman who had formerly been prejudiced againſt him, was now his very ſincere Admirer; as his Lines may in ſome Meaſure be applicable to me, I ſhall inſert them as follows: ‘It is now growing too late in Life, to be much concerned about whatever Good or Evil the World may think it worth their while to ſay of me. All I have to do, is to fix a Conſciouſneſs of my own Integrity, and then let the Devil do his worſt. Truth has a ſtrong Arm, and in that the weakeſt Perſon living, with an honeſt Heart, may truſt for their Protection.’

So let this ſerve by way of Preface, while I proceed in my Narrative, or,

And here, before I proceed, to give Eaſe to every Heart, which may poſſibly ſuffer any Anxiety, on Account of what might be ſaid of them, I proclaim Peace to all, but thoſe who have directly af⯑fronted me. 'Tis but a mean Piece of Cowardice to inſult a Woman, and as ſome Gentlemen have had the Courage to challenge me, by the known Laws of Chivalry, I have a right to chuſe the Weapons; a Pen is mine, let them take up another, and may-hap they will meet their Match.

But Hibernian Writers are evermore threatened, not with the Wit of their Antagoniſts, but the Arm of the Fleſh; and truly that is ſuch a knock-down Ar⯑gument, as I, at leaſt, am utterly unable to reſiſt.

Upon my Word, were any Folly of mine to produce real Wit in another Per⯑ſon, [7] I ſhould not be diſpleaſed to be roundly rallied.

I was very well diverted with Mr. Woodward's^* Coffee, and humorous Deſcription of me, crying,

Though how I, who never either was a dramatick Writer, or a Player, came to have ſuch extraordinary Marks of Diſ⯑tinction paid me from the Theatre, is more than I can readily account for.

However I enjoy'd the Jeſt, and the worſt Mark of Reſentment I ſhew'd, was to ſend him a Crown for a Box Ticket, which he graciouſly accepted; and in Re⯑turn, got his Friend in the College to add ſix Couplets of Scurrility to his for⯑mer Encomium on me.

No marvel, for I remember the Dean told me, he paid a Man's Debt on Ac⯑count of his having wrote ſomething tollerably good; and the next Proof he gave of his Talents, as ſoon as he was [8] releas'd from Jail, was to write a Satire on his Benefactor and Deliverer. I told this Paſſage to Mr. Cibber, who aſſured me he had been juſt ſerv'd in the ſame Manner.

Gratitude is, of all Virtues, the moſt ſeldom practis'd; the Cauſe of this De⯑fect, I take to be our innate Pride; few Perſons can bear to be under the Weight of an Obligation, not conſidering that,

Doctor Swift very well obſerves, that many Perſons have done a juſt, many a generous, but few a grateful Act.

I have indeed experienced Gratitude, even to painful Extaſy; eſpecially, when you my dear, and honoured Lord Kingſ⯑borough, vouchſafe to cheer my Habita⯑tion, with the Muſes, Loves, and Gra⯑ces in your Train; with all the Virtues that adorn the Good, and every ſhining Excellence which diſtinguiſhes the fine [9] Gentleman: So Cyrus deigned to viſit Zoroaſter, and bleſs his ſolemn Grotto.

You have, my Lord, another Talent, which as Leiſure and Fortune give you a Power of exerting it, I hope you will; and which, by the Honour you have al⯑lowed me, of being your Correſpondent, I have diſcovered, and, like a true Wo⯑man, cannot bear the Pain of keeping a Secret. Amongſt all the Letters I have yet ſeen publiſhed, I never ſaw any ſo truly elegant, learned, and polite, as thoſe with which your Lordſhip has con⯑deſcended to honour your poor Servant: Invoke then, my Lord, the ſacred Nine; not one of the beauteous Virgins can be coy to ſuch a Lover, reſembling ſo much their own Apollo. I am very certain they have all beſtow'd their Favours, though you are too much the Man of Honour to reveal it.

Let Britannia boaſt her Shafteſburys, Dorſets, Mulgraves; and let us tell her in Return, we have our Kingsborough. And here I muſt vindicate the Learning, as well as the Politeneſs of the Nobility; [10] though it be in Oppoſition to Mr. Pope's Opinion; who ſays,

Why ſure every Perſon muſt acknow⯑ledge, that while he is inſulting his Bet⯑ters, his Ethic Epiſtles are little more than Lord Shaftſbury's Rhapſody be⯑rhym'd; his Windſor Foreſt ſtollen from Cooper's Hill; and his Eloiſa and Abe⯑lard, the moſt beautiful Lines in it, taken from Milton's Il Penſeroſo; and if I wrong his Merit, let the Learned judge. Mr. Pope ſays, in his Deſcription of the Convent,

Which of theſe is beſt, I leave to any Perſon of Taſte to determine.

But I forget, and am launching into a Criticiſm e'er I am aware of it.

Now though I have held out the Olive Branch to my Friends, to whom I would be kind, as the life-rendering Pelican; yet my Foes are not included in the Trea⯑ty. [12] You, my Lady of the Fiſhponds and Lakes of Lebanon, muſt be remem⯑bered.

And I cannot avoid paying my Acknow⯑legements to the Vice Queen of a certain Village. Vice-Queen I term you, for the lovely ^*Goddeſs of the Plains has as much Humanity and Politeneſs as you want, and I cannot pay her a higher Compliment; though indeed it is no wonder, as ſhe is the Daughter of an Eng⯑liſh Earl, and you derive your Pedigree from a Scotch Pedlar; I will not name you, becauſe you ſhall not take the Law of me, but deſcribe you I will.

Pray, when I ſent you a Book, how came it to intitle me to an Affront? and your civil Meſſage, that if my third Vo⯑lume was worth reading, you would buy it at the Stationer's: Why, it will coſt you a Crown there.

But how long have you commenced a Judge of the Belles Lettres? That you may be a competent one of Men, no⯑body diſputes; and for your Honour, I [13] believe a certain Relation of mine was pretty intimate with it at *********.

And do you and your two Compani⯑ons take a Friſk ſtill, now you are grown old! Certainly it muſt be as entertaining as the Witches in Macbeth.

Why, Madam, had I ſaid that your Fa—r died blaſpheming the Almighty, and of the foul Diſeaſe; had I ſaid that he refus'd to ſee his Wife's Cubbs, as he call'd your Siſters, at the Hour of his Death; had I ſaid, that you hid Lady D— behind the Arras, to ſee—Nothing—which you ſaid, your little Tom Titmouſe of a Huſband had, you cou'd not have uſed me worſe.

But I ſcorn your low Invectives, which ſavour more of Malice than of Wit; theſe and many other valuable Se⯑crets, which I have the Honour of know⯑ing of you, ſhall be buried in Oblivion.

While I, the Cream of Hiſtorians, Mir⯑ror of Poets, worthy not only the Bays but the Laurel made for mighty Con⯑querors, for my ſignal Victories, pro⯑ceed in my true Hiſtory, which take as follows, from me the genuine Succeſſor of Cid Hamet, and immortal SWIFT:

ONE Day as I was ſitting in my Shop,^* a Woman who though very badly dreſt, had a Dignity in her Air which diſtinguiſh'd her from the Vul⯑gar, ſtood reading the Paper I had ſtuck up, with Regard to writing Let⯑ters and Petitions. At length ſhe came in, and begg'd of me to write a Petition for her, to his Majeſty, from whom, as ſhe ſaid, ſhe hop'd for a Penſion. I [15] aſked her what Title ſhe had to it? She ſaid, if I could have Patience to hear her Story, ſhe was certain I would think ſhe had a very juſt one. As I was fond of Novelties, I aſſured her ſhe could not oblige me more; ſo to avoid Interrup⯑tion, I took her into the Parlour, when ſhe began her Hiſtory as follows:

I could not here avoid interrupting her, to ſay I wonder'd that the Princeſs Sophia ſhould enter into any Scheme which might in the leaſt reflect on the Honour of her own illuſtrious Family; ſhe anſwer'd, the Princeſs lov'd nothing ſo well as Dominion, and as the Ladies of France had a natural Turn to Politicks, ſhe was afraid the Electreſs might inter⯑fere, ſo as to injure her Power, which was almoſt abſolute. Oh! Ambition! by what cruel Means doſt thou compaſs thy Ends? I deſired her to proceed, which ſhe did as follows.

I wrote a Petition for this unhappy Stranger; which had no manner of Ef⯑fect on his Majeſty: I afterwards wrote to her Brother-in-law; who gave her Five Guineas, with which Sum ſhe again ſet out for St. Chriſtophers; and, as I after⯑wards [28] learne, the Ship, with all the Paſ⯑ſengers, were loſt.

I think this poor Lady's Life was but a continual Scene of Storms and Misfor⯑tunes, as if Heaven had

But alas! how ſhall we poor Reptiles preſume to judge the Ways of Pro⯑vidence; all things are ordered with Har⯑mony and Beauty; though, like a Fly, our feeble Ray ſees but an Inch around, yet dares diſlike the Structure of the Whole.

As well might a Mariner, in the midſt of the wide World of congregated Wa⯑ters, hope, with his Line, to ſound the deep Abyſs, as our finite Minds to com⯑prehend the Ways of Deity.

Whatever is, is right; Wiſdom and Goodneſs govern all.

[29]Reader, have Patience with my Philo⯑ſophick Whimſies, which I muſt ſome⯑times indulge: 'Tis frequent, in Con⯑verſation, to ſay, of thoſe that are drown'd, That they are gone to the Bottom of the Sea; but, with due Deference to better Judges, I cannot conceive the Ocean to have any Bottom, except near the Shore. I have obſerved every ſingle Drop of Water to be an intire Globe; put an⯑other to it, they unite by Adheſion of Parts, like Quickſilver, to form a larger: Thus the tributary Streams pour in glo⯑bulous Chryſolites, to form that won⯑drous Maſs of Waters, which we term the Ocean, and which, no Doubt, goes quite through the Center of the Earth, without any middle Way to ſtop it.

I know it may be here objected, that a Ship loſt on one Side ought, by this Rule, to riſe at the oppoſite Place: Not at all; the Preſſure of the Atmoſphere is every-where equal, nor is there any ſuch thing as up or down in Nature: As many Stars beſpread the Firmament beneath us, as above us: As Travellers, ſuch as have [30] ſailed round the World, ſufficiently evi⯑dence; and did not the ſtrong Laws of Gravitation hold all in firm Union, the Sea, no Doubt, would tumble on our Heads.

Oh! thou rever'd Spirit of NEWTON, who couldſt take the Dimenſion of each Planet in our Solar Syſtem, and then de⯑monſtrate to us,

Giving us thereby the moſt auguſt View of that Being, who pour'd forth new Worlds to all Eternity, and peopled the Infinity of Space: If I have err'd, through Pride, in endeavouring to ſearch into the Secrets of Nature, wherein I may very poſſibly err; let thy honour'd Manes vouchſafe to ſet me right,

I think I have ſcarce ever read Two better Lines than Mr. POPE's Epitaph [31] on this Prince of Philoſophers, which, to prove my regard to him as a Poet, I will inſert:

His Inſcription on Sir Godfrey Kneller's Monument is as remarkably bad as this is excellent:

And bad as it is, 'tis but a lean Tranſla⯑tion from the Italian, an enervate Lan⯑guage, well adapted to the ſoft Warblers of it, but incapable of manly Strength, Dignity, or Grace.

I always find in myſelf a ſtrong Incli⯑nation to Criticiſm, and, if I live to finiſh this Volume, I ſhall certainly indulge it: For my Part, let the World ſay what they pleaſe of Criticks, I eſteem them as very uſeful Members of the Common⯑wealth of Learning. Whatever is well written will ſtand the Teſt of ſtrict Exa⯑mination, ay, and of Ridicule too; and when that is paſt, the Work appears like Gold from the Furnace, with ten-fold Luſtre: Therefore I fairly invite the whole Body of Criticks to canvas my Writings; if they point out an Error I ſhall eſteem them as Friends, and en⯑deavour to amend: If they make an in⯑judicious [33] Criticiſm, for ſome ſuch I have ſeen publiſh'd againſt me, they prove their own Ignorance, and cannot give me a greater Triumph: I only wiſh I may have a Longinus, not a Zoilus, to judge me.

Well now, Mrs. Pilkington, ſays, per⯑haps, my Reader, What, in the Name of Wonder have we to do with all this?

Why, truly, no more, I think, than with a Buff Jerkin, or mine Hoſteſs at St. Albans; but I am no Methodiſt either in Writing or Religion; ſometimes Irregularities pleaſe; ſhapeleſs Rock, or hanging Precipice, preſent to the poe⯑tick Imagination more inſpiring Dreams than could the fineſt Garden: Where

I am, in ſhort, an Heteroclite, or irre⯑gular Verb, which can never be declined, or conjugated.

[34]But however, conſidering it was a Hiſ⯑tory of myſelf, I promiſed to the World, I now proceed in it thus:

Two very fine young Gentlemen, whom I did not know, came to buy ſome Prints, and obſerving a large Book in Manuſcript, open before me, one of them demanded, Was that my Account-Book? I aſſured the Gentlemen, my Re⯑venue was eaſily caſt up, and that I was but a bad Arithmetician, though I fre⯑quently dealt in Figures and Numbers.

This Gentleman, whom I preſently after found was an Earl, by his Com⯑panions calling him by his Title, in⯑ſiſted on ſeeing the Subject of my Amuſement. This was the Firſt Vo⯑lume of my Work, which when once he had began, he went quite through with, and gave it more Applauſe than ever an Author's dear Partiality to their own Offspring could poſſibly make me believe it deſerved.

However, his Lordſhip made a juſt Remark, That I was very fond of intro⯑ducing [35] the Sun by way of Simile, in all my Poems, and ſaid, he had a Mind to cut it out where-ever he met it.

I told his Lordſhip, he would then leave my Book in the Land of Dark⯑neſs, and the Shadow of Death.

The Earl then aſked me, if I intend⯑ed to print it? I ſaid I would, if I could get Subſcribers to it, otherwiſe it muſt, like many other valuable things, be bu⯑ried in Oblivion. He gave me a Sub⯑ſcription, and, as it was Dinner-time, took his Leave, with a Promiſe of drink⯑ing Coffee with me the next Evening; when, as it was Sunday, I ſhould be diſ⯑engaged from Buſineſs; which Promiſe, however, he did not fulfil; and having vainly expected him till Eight, I then went up Stairs, to ſit with the Counteſs of Yarmouth's Steward's Wife; and, on my Return, found my Shop broke open, and every Article of my Wearing Ap⯑parel taken away: This was a dreadful Mortification, and a ſad Loſs! All my Comfort was, that the Thieves had taken nothing but what belonged to me.

[36]This Robbery quite ruin'd me, as I was obliged to lay out my Money for Neceſſaries to appear decent; my Land⯑lord ſeiz'd for a Quarter's Rent, though he was my Countryman, and profeſs'd great Friendſhip for me.

I was once more in doleful Plight; however, I got a ready-furniſh'd Lodg⯑ing, juſt tolerable.

One Evening, when I came Home from a Friend's, my Landlady told me, there was a young Woman to viſit me, who wept ſadly that I was abroad. I aſk'd her what ſort of a Perſon ſhe was? She told me, ſhe thought ſhe greatly reſembled me, and that ſhe would be with me early in the Morning: Accord⯑ingly ſhe came, and I knew her, at firſt Sight, to be my Daughter: The Sur⯑prize made me faint away; not but I was very glad to ſee her, but Joy is over⯑coming as Grief; and when I conſider'd how little it was in my Power to help her, it quite ſurk my Spirits. She was in a Garb which beſpoke Poverty, and gave me [37] a long Account of her Father's Inhuma⯑nity to her, and his youngeſt Son.

A few Days after her Arrival came the Son I have now with me, from on board a Privateer, as ragged as a Prodigal re⯑turn'd from keeping Swine; but, poor Child, I wonder how he ſubſiſted at all, conſidering the Hardſhips he had ſuffer'd, and what to do with them both I could not tell: Mr. Richardſon ^* was ſo kind to give my Son a new Suit of Clothes, which put him in a Capacity of going amongſt my Friends, from whom I received a tranſient Relief.

At length the Girl, finding how Mat⯑ters were, went to wait on a Lady, and Captain Meade took my Son with him on board a Man of War, with which a Num⯑ber of Tranſports, and others, then went on a ſecret Expedition, but were pre⯑vented in their Deſign, by having their Intentions betray'd to the French.

Well, this was a little Reſpite to me: I heard Worſdale was in London, and wrote to him, but receiv'd no Anſwer; a Day [38] or two after, as I was going through Spring-Garden, pretty early in the Morn⯑ing, who ſhould I ſee but the very iden⯑tical Man, ſtanding at a Coffee-Houſe Door!

I ſtop'd, and look'd at him, when he immediately recollected me, and ſeem'd over-joy'd to ſee me: He invited me to Breakfaſt, and told me, he was upon his Keeping; ſo that he had been obliged to quit a pretty ready-furniſh'd Houſe, he had in Mount-Street, Berkley-Square, and leave it to the Care of a Servant, to retire to this privileg'd Place.

After Breakfaſt he deſired I would write a Letter for him to the Bavarian Ambaſſador, and to two others, whom I have now forgot, to beg their Pro⯑tection; which accordingly he obtain'd, though not directly. He made me dine with him, and promiſed to reward me when he ſhould be at Liberty to purſue his Work; and, in the mean time, he ſaid, I ſhould be welcome to his Houſe in Mount-Street; an Offer which I readily [39] accepted, as well for the fine Air, as be⯑ing Rent-free.

He allow'd me a Shilling a Day to live on, which I could very well do: But he came every Morning to know how much I had wrote. He would give me Fifteen Subjects at once, and expected I ſhould compoſe ſomething excellent on every one of them: In ſhort, there was no End to my Labour, nor any Relaxation from it, except ſometimes a kind of troubled Sleep; for, amongſt other Miſ⯑fortunes, I was not able to make my Bed, nor light the Fire; and the old Woman, his Houſe-keeper, proud, ig⯑norant, and inſolent beyond Imagina⯑tion, aſk'd me, Where the Devil I was bred, that I could not ſweep Rooms, light Fires, and make Beds, as well as other Servants; and that truly Mr. Worſ⯑dale was a Fool to hire me, who did no⯑thing but write all Day long.

Though I conceiv'd a good deal of In⯑dignation at being thought the Servant of a Colour-grinder's Son, yet I could not [40] forbear laughing at the Ideas of this good Creature.

Never did any Soul lead a more ſoli⯑tary Life than poor Laetitia; for Worſ⯑dale had poſitively order'd the old Wo⯑man not to let any human Creature come near me; and ſhe punctually obey'd him, more out of Malice than Inte⯑grity.

In this Sequeſtration from the World I wrote three Ballad Operas, one of them plan'd on the Story of the old Song, A Pennyworth of Wit; where I have ſo exalted the Wife over the Harlot, that at laſt, as Worſdale is a profeſt Libertine, I began to think it was quite neceſſary to apologize for his writing any thing to the Honour of Virtue, or expoſing of Vice; ſo I wrote the following Epilogue, to be ſpoke by a Woman:

I am ſorry I have not the Opera, but Worſdale was too cunning for me, and ſeiz'd it, ſheet by Sheet, as faſt as I wrote it: And having now Liberty, by means of the Protection, and a good deal of Work beſpoke in the City, he took a Floor near the Royal-Exchange, in a large old-faſhion'd Houſe, with very antique Furniture; and there he gave me a little Room to myſelf; but, as it was within-ſide of his Painting-room, I was a Pri⯑ſoner all the Morning, and might faſt and write till Three o'Clock in the Day; then I was called to Dinner, of Beef-ſteaks, or Mutton-chops, cook'd by him⯑ſelf: The manner of our eating I muſt deſcribe.

We had four Play-bills laid for a Table-cloth, Knives, Forks, or Plates, had we none; no matter for that—

The Butter, when we had any, was de⯑poſited in the cool and fragrant Receſs of an old Shoe, a Coffee-pot of mine ſerved for as many Uſes as ever Scrub had, for ſometimes it boil'd Coffee, ſometimes Tea, it brought ſmall Beer, ſtrong Beer, and I am more than half afraid it has been applied to leſs noble Uſes; but be that as it may, I've done the Man ſome Service, and he knows it—No more of that.

He happened to paint, as he told me, the young Chevalier's Picture, at Man⯑cheſter. As he went to Richmond he left all his Pictures in my Care, when, one Morning, a very beautiful young Lady, of about Sixteen, and her Brother, a fine young Gentleman, came to the Houſe: I was called down, and they walk'd up Stairs; when, after a little Heſitation, [45] the Lady aſk'd me, could ſhe ſee the Picture of the Highlander? I anſwered, yes, and brought it to her: She kiſs'd the Face, Feet, and every Bit of it; and judging from this that ſhe was a Roman Catholick, a Religion that ^* Patrick Sarſ⯑field's Neice can never hate, let who will take Offence at it; for he was generous, noble, and humane; and, in God's Name, let every one of his Creatures be as up⯑right and juſt as he, (and no Doubt but he will look down well pleas'd, and bleſs the fair Variety).

The young Lady repeated two Lines of a Poem of Lady Mary Wortley Mon⯑tague, on ſeeing this Picture:

Their Curioſity being ſatisfied, the Lady would have given me ſome Money: I told her, I was not a Servant, but that, as I lodged in the Houſe, Mr. Worſdale left the Pictures in my Care: Madam, [46] ſays ſhe, I beg Pardon; but how can I make you a Recompence for your Trou⯑ble? By giving me, Madam, the Re⯑mainder of the Poem: She repeated it; and, finding I had ſomething like Taſte, ſhe kindly embraced me, giving me a Direction where to wait on her; and we parted, I believe, delighted with each other; but I only ſpeak for myſelf.—

Worſdale came to Town, and called on this Lady, and Gentleman: They were ſo kind to praiſe me highly, and aſk him, who I was? He declared he did not know; he left, he ſaid, an old Chairwoman to look after his Houſe, perhaps it was ſhe.—

This Anſwer did not ſatisfy them, they were ſo unreaſonable as to inſiſt on it, that I was a Gentlewoman, that they knew it by my Speech, and Hands, by my refuſing Money, and begging Poetry: But Worſdale renounced me more heartily than ever he did the Devil, whoſe Ser⯑vant he is.—

He came home very angry, abuſed me at an unmerciful rate, and told me, I [47] ſhould not ſtay in his Houſe, to ſhew my Wit and Breeding, forſooth, when I had neither; and boaſt of my Family, when it would have been better for me to have been the Daughter of a Cobler. As this Fellow always boaſted of his being Sir Godfrey Kneller's Baſtard, I could not avoid telling him, that ſome People were ſo fond of Family, that, to keep it up, they would prove themſelves Sons of Whores.

The Hour of my Deliverance, from this worſe than Egyptian Bondage, now approach'd; a young Woman, for whom I had wrote ſeveral Love-Letters to a Gentleman who had, it ſeems, kept her till he married, and then forſook her, as indeed he ought, found me out.

The Scheme was to perſuade him, that at the Time he diſmiſſed her, ſhe was with Child by him, though ſhe in Reality confeſt ſhe was never in that Circum⯑ſtance in her Life: But, Bite the Biter was fair enough; if he cheated her out of Innocence (a Loſs never to be retriev'd) I think ſhe had a juſt Title to ſome of [48] his Money, of which he had more than he knew how to uſe.

I was writing a melancholy Epiſtle for her, when in came Worſdale; he gave me a furious Look, and withered all my Strength before he ſpoke; then he went out of the Chamber, and ſent for me, demanding of me, whether I intended to neglect his Buſineſs, and turn Secretary for the Whores. I was really ſurpri⯑ſed, that he of all Men, ſhould fall ſo hard on kind Females; and as their Mo⯑ney was honeſtly earn'd by me, and they are generally liberal, I never thought I did any thing amiſs, in helping them out with a ſoft Epiſtle: He ſtorm'd at me, ſhe heard him, and finding his Wrath was raiſed on her Account, was very much troubled, and ſlipping a Guinea into my Hand ſoftly, whiſpered me to come to her Houſe in Golden-ſquare, and ſhe would make me full amends for my Vexation.—Of all Men I ever ſaw, W—e has the ſtrongeſt Appearance of Charity and Compaſſion, and the leaſt of it in reality. He would take any curious [49] Artiſt out of trouble, provided their Work, which he appropriated to himſelf, would yield him ten-fold Intereſt. Love, Favour, or even common Decency, no Perſon ever met with from him, except on terms of becoming his Slave. I have often reflected with Wonder, on the vaſt Propenſity that appears in Perſons of Quality, to provide for the ſpurious Off⯑ſpring of Beggars, Vagrants, &c. by de⯑priving themſelves of the Enjoyments of Life, to amaſs vaſt Treaſure, and when that tremendous Hour arrives, in which all earthly Glories, Honours, Wealth, and Titles, cannot give a Moment's Eaſe, or prolong frail Life, the Queſtion is, ‘"How ſhall I diſpoſe of this, to appeaſe that God, at whoſe Tribunal I expect ſhortly to appear? Oh! I'll leave it all to the Poor."’—As if the Omnipo⯑tent could not ſee through the ſhallow Device, or that his eternal Kingdom was to be purchaſed with their Leavings.

I have obſerved, that moſt of thoſe, who have choſen to be publick ſpirited after their Death, have in their Life⯑time [50] been meer unhoſpitable narrow hearted Souls; and if a Perſon of Birth and polite Education, had by any Mis⯑fortune fallen into Diſtreſs, and made an Application to them, ſuch would not fail of meeting with an Affront, and having their Letter ſent back open, with the Civil Meſſage, that truly my Lord or my Lady did not know any Thing of it, and had Dependants enough of their own to provide for.

And pray now let us enquire, who are theſe Poor, that the publick and private are eternally providing for; are there not Collections daily in Churches, beſides the vaſt Legacies left to Pariſhes, Hoſpitals, &c. and yet to Appearance no Soul the better.

Are not the Streets infeſted with Beg⯑gars of all Denominations? and in the Houſes, Objects that would raiſe Com⯑paſſion in any humane, well-judging Perſon?

Here we ſhall find a poor Wretch, for a few Shillings a Week, ſlaving to ſupport a Wife and Children, and perhaps [51] at the End of the Quarter, is ſtripped by a cruel Landlord, and torn relentleſly from the Relief of his Family, while they are expoſed to the ſharpeſt Pangs of Want, Cold and Nakedneſs.

And where ſhall they apply for Relief? if to the Pariſh, perhaps they may ob⯑tain a few Half-penee, but no real Suc⯑cour.

If to a beneficent Lady, who diſtin⯑guiſhes herſelf, by giving a Gown once in the Year to ſome particular old Beg⯑gar Women, and Six-pence a Week for their Support, to give them a Taſte of Life, (as the ſame Woman muſt not ex⯑pect to be ſerv'd two Years ſucceſſively) Why, truly my Lady Bountifull is not at home, or the Servant durſt not carry up any Letter or Petitions: So the poor Sufferer may return, loaden with Po⯑verty, and ſwollen with Sorrow.

And yet this Lady expects to be al⯑moſt deified for her Munificence, and Patriotiſm; ſhe laid out her Money on a Houſe, not to ſatisfy her Vanity, but to employ her diſtreſſed Countrymen; [52] ſhe never ſaw the Naked, but ſhe cloath⯑ed them; nor the Sick, but ſhe viſited them; nor the Hungry or Thirſty but ſhe relieved them, whilſt the Rich ſhe ſent empty away. In which charitable Opi⯑nion of her own Virtues, ſhe expects to go directly to Heaven; but now hear the Opinion of Impartiality.

Indeed ſhe never ſaw her Fellow Crea⯑tures in Diſtreſs, but ſhe being of a com⯑paſſionate Temper, found it neceſſary for her own Quiet, to relieve them; there⯑fore, ſhe always choſe a back Room to ſit in, that ſhe might not view ſuch diſ⯑agreeable Objects; and in order to ſave her Money for ſome great laſt Stroke, if Perſons of Rank dine or ſup with her, they muſt take ſuch as the Houſe affords, by which Means the Rich are always ſent empty away.

If no body knows this Picture, with⯑out writing the Name under it, I will confeſs myſelf to be as bad a Painter as W—e.

Dean SWIFT's excellent Scheme for building an Hoſpital for Lunaticks and [53] Idiots, was of a different Caſt from thoſe of moſt other Men, as it was not a Mat⯑ter utter'd with his laſt Breath, but ſtu⯑died, calculated, and determined for many Years before, as the following Lines in his Elegy on his own Death ſufficiently evince.

And according to his uſual Wiſdom, he committed the Regulation of it to Gen⯑tlemen of real Worth, Honour, and Pro⯑bity, in which, would others follow ſo great, ſo laudable an Example, perhaps the many Sums that were deſigned for good ^*Uſes, but are now appropriated to the purchaſing Eſtates, and ſplendid Equipages for ſome particular People, might have the wiſh'd Effect of being a univerſal Benefit.

[54]The Dean could not abide the thought of being like other Mortals, forgot as ſoon as his venerable Duſt was convey'd to the Earth; and therefore he always endeavour'd to render himſelf worthy of a grateful Remembrance in the Hearts of the People; yet how true are his own Lines!

A remarkable Inſtance of his whimſical Diſpoſition, which I omitted in my firſt Volume, as I find

I will here inſert, and muſt ſay, 'tis with infinite Pleaſure, I find that my weak Attempts to delineate his inimitable Cha⯑racter, have met with ſuch unhoped Ap⯑probation, both here and in England; [55] not ſo much for the Vanity of an Author, as the Pleaſure I feel at ſeeing ſo vaſt a Reſpect paid to his Memory.

I believe the Dean on his firſt coming to Ireland, was very melancholy, and indeed it was not to be wonder'd at, as he was then ſeparated from thoſe whom he lov'd, Mr. Pope, Lord Bolingbroke, &c. and in one of his Poems, he ſeems to deſpair of meeting with Friendſhip in a ſtrange Country, or that,

I one Day aſk'd him how he came to write that Poem; he told me he had three Times like to have been hang'd, ‘"and, Pox take me, ſaid he, but I be⯑lieve the People thought I could bring the Pretender in my Hand, and place him on the Throne."’

I remember a worthy Gentleman, who had the Honour of his Acquaintance, told me, that the Dean and ſome other Per⯑ſons of Taſte, whom I do not now re⯑collect, [56] came to a Reſolution to have a Feaſt once a Year, in imitation of the Saturnalia, which, in heathen Rome, was held about the Time we keep our Chriſt⯑mas, whereat the Servants perſonated their Maſters, and the Maſters waited as Servants.

The firſt Time they put this Scheme in Practice, was at the Deanery Houſe. When all the Servants were ſeated, and every Gentleman placed behind his own Man, the Dean's Servant took an Op⯑portunity of finding Fault with ſome Meat that was not done to his Taſte, and tak⯑ing it up in his Hand, he threw it in his Maſter's Face, and mimick'd him in every other Foible which he had ever diſcover'd in him.

At this the Dean flew in a violent Rage, beat the Fellow, and put every Thing into ſuch Diſorder, that the Servants affright⯑ed, fled the Room; and here ended the Feaſt of Saturnalia.

Stella, ^* whom he has ſo beautifully praiſed through his Writings, was actu⯑ally [57] his Wife, though they never, I am convinced, taſted even the chaſte Joys which Hymen allows.

It is certain, they retain'd for each other, a moſt tender Love; and though they did not indulge the Deſires of the Body, yet their Souls were united by the ſtricteſt Bonds of divine and ſocial Har⯑mony.

He, in the latter Part of his Life, of⯑fered to acknowledge her as the Partner of his Heart; but ſhe wiſely declin'd it, knowing that while ſhe continued only as a Viſitor, he would treat her with Reſ⯑pect; which would ceaſe, as his Temper was unpaſſive, if ſhe lived intirely with him; and every Fault of his Servants would be attributed to her. I am certain he muſt have tenderly loved that Lady, as I have been a Witneſs, that the bare mention of her Name has drawn Tears from him, which it was not eaſy to ef⯑fect.

I remember he ſent for me one Morn⯑ing very early, to Breakfaſt; and as I always drank Tea or Coffee, I expected [58] to have found one of theſe ready; but after he had detained me two Hours, diſ⯑courſing on his Houſhold Oeconomy, and other Matters, amongſt which one was, that a Piece of his Garden Wall had fallen down; and ‘"ſo ſaid he,"’ ‘"one of my Fellows forſooth, muſt needs get a Trowel and Mortar, and undertake to mend the Breach.’

‘"I happened, continued the Dean, to ſpy him out of my Window at this Employment, and call'd to him to know why he did that? he told me he had been bred a Bricklayer, and that his doing it, would ſave me Mo⯑ney; ſo I let him finiſh it, which he did very compleatly in about an Hour's time. I gave him a Moidore; and Pox take me, but the Fellow inſtead of going as he ought, to the Alehouſe or a Whore, went and bought Silver Buckles, and is grown very proud upon it."’

I think, Sir, ſaid I, the Man made a good Hour's Work of it.

[59] ‘"Come ſaid he, ſhall we go to Break⯑faſt, I know you were once Bermudas mad; now I'll give you ſome of that Country Cheer; open that Drawer and reach me a flat Bottle you'll find there."’ I ran to obey him, and as the Drawer was low, kneeled down to it.

I no ſooner attempted to unlock the Drawer, but he flew at me and beat me moſt immoderately; I again made an Effort, and ſtill he beat me, crying, ‘"Pox take you, open the Drawer."’ I once more tried, and he ſtruck me ſo hard, that I burſt into Tears, and ſaid, Lord, Sir, what muſt I do?

Pox take you for a Slut, ſaid he, ‘"would you ſpoil my Lock, and break my Key?"’ Why, Sir the Drawer is lock'd. ‘"Oh! I beg Pardon, ſaid he, I thought you were going to pull it out by the Key; well, open it and do what I bid you."’

I did ſo, and found the Bottle. ‘"Now ſaid he,"’ ‘"you muſt know I always breakfaſt between my own Houſe and the Church, and I carry my Proviſion [60] in my Pocket,"’ upon this he pulled out a Piece of Gingerbread, and offered me ſome.

As I was terribly afflicted with the Heart-burn, the very thoughts of any thing ſo dry, made me ten times worſe, which I told him, and begged he would excuſe me. He poſitively inſiſted on my eating a Piece of it, which I was, on Penalty of another Beating, obliged to comply with.

‘"Now, ſaid he, you muſt take a Sup out of my Bottle."’ I juſt held it to my Mouth, and found it ſo ſtrong, that I intreated he would not aſk me to taſte it: He endeavoured to perſuade me; but finding that would not avail, he threw me down, forced the Bottle into my Mouth, and pour'd ſome of the Liquor down my Throat, which I thought would have ſet my very Stomach on Fire. He then gravely went to Prayers, and I re⯑turned home, not greatly delighted, but, however, glad to come off no worſe. I went the enſuing. Evening to pay a Vi⯑ſit to my Kinſman Doctor S—ge, [61] then lately conſecrated Lord B—p of ****. This Gentleman, and his Family, were extremely fond of my Fa⯑ther, and always pleaſed when I did my⯑ſelf the Honour to call on them; and received me with that Eaſe and Polite⯑neſs, peculiar to well bred People. I con⯑gratulated the Biſhop on his Preferment: He modeſtly told me, that his Honours did not ſit eaſy on him, and that he would willingly diſpence with his Friends not ſaluting him by his Title of Lord, as it always made him uneaſy. He then aſked me, as he ſaw my Father's Cha⯑riot at the Door, where I intended to go? I told him, to the Dean. Well, ſaid he, I beg you'll give my Compliments to him, and tell him, That, as 'tis to his Recommendation I owe my preſent Hap⯑pineſs, I am ſurpriſed I never had the Pleaſure of ſeeing him ſince he con⯑ferred ſo great a Favouron me: While I was plain Doctor S—ge, continued he, the Dean uſed to ſend his Wine and Bread before him, and frequently take a Dinner with me; but now, I believe, he is [62] aſham'd to own me: Pray ſpeak to him, and let me know his Anſwer. I pro⯑miſed I would, and then departed.

I found the Dean at home, and alone, which gave me an immediate Opportu⯑nity of delivering the B—p's Meſ⯑ſage. He liſten'd to me very attentively, and then ſaid, ‘"Oh, I remember ſome⯑thing of it: L—d C—t ap⯑plied to me for a Perſon to make a Biſhop of, whom I knew was not an honeſt Man; and, as I wanted the Living of W—b's for D—y, I recommended S—ge to the Biſhoprick, with an Aſſurance, that he would anſwer his Excellency's Pur⯑poſe; and Pox take me if I ever thought him worth my Contempt, till I had made a Biſhop of him."’

The Dean then told me, that as he had no Company, and did not know how to diſpoſe of his time, I ſhould have the Honour to ſup with him; and, ſaid he, I will give you a moſt kingly En⯑tertainment.

[63]I accordingly waited, in Expectation of ſome extraordinary Repaſt, till about Nine o'Clock, in which Interval, my Readers may be aſſured, I wanted not Amuſements for the Mind: However, at length, the Cloth was laid on a ſmall Table, and, to my great Surprize, the Servant brought up four blue Eggs, on a China Plate: ‘"Here, Huſſey, ſaid he, is a Plover's Egg; King William uſed to give Crowns apiece for them, and thought it Prophanation in a Subject to eat one of them; as he was, amongſt his other immortal Perfections, an Epicure, a Glutton, and a—Hold, ſaid he, I had like to have ſpoken Treaſon: But how do you like the Eggs?"’ Sir, I have eat none yet. ‘"Well, eat like a Monarch then, and tell me your Opinion."’ I did eat, and told him, I had not that elevated Notion of his Banquet, which he might poſſibly have, from ſo great a Precedent. ‘"Well, ſaid he, theſe Eggs coſt me Six-pence apiece, which is a little extravagant, conſidering a Herring will coſt but a [64] Halfpenny; but I never exceed two; and this is the only Article in which I am luxurious."’

I muſt here again apologize to my Reader for my frequent Digreſſions, in which, however, 'tis poſſible, they will find more Entertainment than a ſimple Narrative will afford.

I believe there never was any Set of People ſo happy in ſincere and uninter⯑rupted Friendſhip, as the Dean, Doctor Delany, Mr. Pilkington, and myſelf; nor can I reflect, at this Hour, on any thing with more Pleaſure, than thoſe happy Moments we have enjoyed! 'Tis for this Reaſon I am fond of mentioning Matters; which bring the pleaſing Ideas to my Mind. I have obſerved, that the Scent of a Flower, or the Tune of a Song, al⯑ways conveys to Remembrance the exact Image of the Place in which they were firſt noticed. Well, therefore, in the Relation of a Story, where one Circum⯑ſtance inſenſibly brings on another, may a Writer, who ſcorns to deal in Romance, be led, like me, to digreſs.

[65]Mrs. Barber, whoſe Name, at her earneſt Requeſt, I omitted in my firſt Volume, and who was the Lady I mentioned to have been with me, at my firſt Interview with the Dean at Dr. Delany's Seat, was at this time writing a Volume of Poems, ſome of which I fanſy might, at this Day, be ſeen in the Cheeſemongers, Chandlers, Paſtry-cooks, and Second-hand Book-ſellers Shops: However, dull as they were, they certainly would have been much worſe, but that Doctor Delany fre⯑quently held what he called a Senatus Conſultum, to correct theſe undigeſted Materials; at which were preſent ſome⯑times the Dean, (in the Chair) but al⯑ways Mrs. Grierſon, Mr. Pilkington, the Doctor, and myſelf. One Day that he had appointed for this Purpoſe, we re⯑ceived from him the following Lines, which, as they contain a Compliment to me, from ſo eminent a Hand, I muſt inſert: Take notice, that as we were both diminutive in Size, Mr. Pilkington was ſtiled Thomas Thumb, and I his Lady fair:

[67]We obeyed the Summons, and had a very elegant Entertainment; and after⯑wards proceeded to our Buſineſs, which we completed, to the Satisfaction of all Parties.

Of all the Gentlemen I ever knew, this I muſt ſay, that Doctor Delany ex⯑cels in one Point particularly; which is, in giving an elegant Entertainment, with Eaſe, Chearfulneſs, and an Hoſpitality, which makes the Company happy.

Lord Carteret, in his Lieutenancy, be⯑ing very fond of this Gentleman, who is indeed worthy of univerſal Eſteem, came one Day, quite unattended, and told the Doctor he was come to dine with him. He thank'd his Excellency for the Honour he confer'd on him, and invited him to walk into his (beautiful) Gardens; which his Excellency did, with great good Hu⯑mour. They took a Turn or two, when the Servant came to inform them, that Dinner was on the Table. The Doctor had generally ſomething nice, in the Sea⯑ſon, for himſelf and his Mother, to whom he behaved with true filial Tenderneſs [68] and Reſpect; for which, no Doubt, his Days will be long in the Land, which the Lord hath given him.

The Doctor made the old Lady do the Honours of his Table; for which, nor for the Entertainment, he never made the leaſt Apology, but told his Lordſhip, that

This Demeanor of his was infinitely agreeable to Lord C—t, who, tho' a Courtier, hated Ceremony when he ſought Pleaſure, which is indeed incon⯑ſiſtent with it. And what Reſpect ſo⯑ever our Nobility may think is owing to the French Mode of cringing and com⯑plimenting, I muſt confeſs I never ſee it practiſed, without a peculiar Pain, which I can compare to nothing but the Appre⯑henſions I am under at the Sight of Tumblers, Rope-dancers, &c. ſuch as, I believe, all rational Creatures ſhare, at ſeeing Men deform their Viſages by a [69] thouſand aukward Grimaces, and their Bodies like jointed Babies, only becauſe it is Alamode Francoiſe: Neither do we often ſee any but the moſt illiterate Cox⯑combs practiſe it.

His Excellency, after the Cloth was taken away and the Bottle introduced, (when conſequently, the Lady departed) told the Doctor, ‘"that he always be⯑lieved him a moſt well-bred Gentle⯑man, but never had ſo clear a Demon⯑ſtration of it, as he had this Day ſeen. Others, ſaid he, whom I have tried the ſame Experiment on, have met me in as much Confuſion as if I came to arreſt them for High-Treaſon; nay, they would not give me a Moment of their Converſation; which, and not their Dinner, I ſought, but hurry from me; and then, if I had any Appetite, deprive me of it by their fulſome Apo⯑logies for Defects. This, ſaid his Ex⯑cellency, is like a Story I heard the Dean tell of a Lady, who had given him an Invitation to Dinner: As ſhe heard he was not eaſily pleaſed, ſhe had ta⯑ken [70] a Month to provide for it. When the Time came, every Delicacy which could be purchaſed, the Lady had prepared, even to Profuſion, (which you know Swift hated.) However, the Dean was ſcarce ſeated, when ſhe began to make a ceremonious Ha⯑rangue; in which ſhe told him, that ſhe was ſincerely ſorry ſhe had not a more tolerable Dinner, ſince ſhe was apprehenſive there was not any thing there fit for him to eat; in ſhort, that it was a bad Dinner: Pox take you for a B—, ſaid the Dean, why did you not get a better? Sure you had Time enough! but ſince you ſay it is ſo bad, I'll e'en go Home and eat a Herring. Accordingly he departed, and left her juſtly confuſed at her Folly, which had ſpoilt all the Pains and Expence ſhe had been at."’

And here, if it will not be thought im⯑pertinent in me, to intrude into ſuch Company, I alſo have a Story, which I ſomewhere heard, not unapplicable to the above.

[71]A certain Engliſh Nobleman, who had the Honour to be ſent Embaſſador to France, was ſaid to be one of the moſt polite accompliſhed fine Gentlemen in Europe. This reached the Ears of the French King, who thought ſuch a Cha⯑racter due to none but himſelf; but as every thing is proved by Trial, his Ma⯑jeſty took this Method of informing his Curioſity. One Morning that the Ambaſ⯑ſador had a private Audience, the King told him he ſhould be glad of his Excel⯑lency's Company, to take an airing with him; the Ambaſſador did not heſitate on accepting the Offer; but told his Majeſty, he was ready to wait on him; the King's Chariot was at the Door, which he very careleſsly deſired the Nobleman to ſtep into: No, Sir, replied the Ambaſſador, not before your Majeſty; at which the King burſt out a Laughing, and ſaid, ‘"No, no, my Lord, you are not the beſt bred Man in the World; otherwiſe you would have done what I deſired, ſince you might well know, that if it was not agreeable to me, I ſhould ne⯑ver [72] have paid you the Compli⯑ment."’

And indeed I have heard thoſe who ought to be the beſt Judges of Manners, declare, that in Company with Superiors, to act implicitly according to their Direc⯑tions, is the moſt effectual Method of being always acceptable; which leads me to another little Circumſtance related by Mrs. Percival.

This Lady, with a Company of very agreeable Perſons, reſolved in the Sum⯑mer-time to take a Trip to the Hague; they accordingly ſet out, and landed at ſome Place in Holland, the Name of which I have now forgot: However, on their firſt Day's Journey, they ſtopp'd at an Inn to dine, and enquired what they could have to eat; they were told there was nothing in the Houſe but a Neck of Veal; which, tho' inſufficient, they de⯑ſired to be dreſſed, as there was not an Inn for ſome Miles forward; therefore they made it up with ſome of their Sea Proviſions, which the Servants had for⯑tunately brought in. After Dinner they [73] called a Bill, and amongſt other Articles of Extortion, they were charged for Meat One Pound Four Shillings, which was ſo palpable an Impoſition, that tho' each of the Company had Fortune and Liberality enough, yet they called for the Man, and told him they abſolutely would not pay ſo extravagant a Price; ſooner than which, as they came meerly for Pleaſure, they would ſtay a Month and ſpend a hundred Pounds a Piece in Law; the Booriſh Fellow told them that it was the common Price in this Place; which if they doubted, he was willing to ap⯑peal to the Magiſtrate. This they rea⯑dily agreed to, and were all preparing for a ſerious Trial of the Matter, when Minheer told them, in an ironical Tone, that he was himſelf the Ruling-Officer and Diſpenſer of Law and Juſtice in that Place. Finding this to be the Fact, and that the Defendant muſt be the Judge in this Cauſe, the Plaintiffs thought proper to ſubmit, and pay'd him.

If the Reader thinks this little Narra⯑tive is not quite in Point; which, now it is related, I begin to find out myſelf, [74] he may blot it out of his Book if he pleaſes, but he ſhall not blot it out of my Manuſcript, for that would be to de⯑prive me of a Page, that is worth a Crown to me: Nay, and as it is Truth, who knows but it may prove worth two Crowns to the Reader, if he ſhould hap⯑pen to make the ſame Tour.

My dear Mr. Cibber, to whom, for his Amuſement, I uſed to relate ſuch little Incidents, would frequently admire what a Fund of Matter for Entertainment my Brain contained, and he bad me write it all; ſince, if it pleaſed him, it might poſſibly have the ſame Effect on others. This Gentleman's frequent Con⯑verſation with the Great, gave him a bet⯑ter Opportunity of knowing their Diſpo⯑ſition (as he had infinite Penetration) than moſt others: In Conſequence of which, he adviſed me, when I ever had Occaſion to ſollicit a Favour from any Perſons of Diſtinction, to take Care to Time it properly; for Inſtance, ſaid he, "Never write to him or her, of a dark foggy froſty Morning; particularly be⯑fore Breakfaſt, at which Time it is Ten [75] to One, they are out of Temper; nor though you ſend at any Time, and even received an unmannerly Anſwer, do not let a raſh Pride drive you to return the Affront, ſince it is impoſſible for you to know what at that Inſtant had chagrin'd their Temper. He who will not be your Friend at one Time, may at another; and tho' you never can bring him to do you any Service, yet do not provoke him to be your Enemy; a Man may have had ill Succeſs at Play, miſſed an Appointment with a fine Woman, or twenty ſuch Accidents; which may for the preſent ſour his Diſpoſition; whereas if you continue your Aſſiduities, in Pro⯑ceſs of Time he might do you more Service than you could hope. Theſe are Truths which I have ſince experienced, and I ſhould be wanting in Gratitude as well as Sincerity, if I did not make it publick. Here follows an Inſtance.

Nicholas Loftus Hume, Eſq whom I mentioned in my ſecond Volume, that came to ſee me in London, but declined ſubſcribing to me, becauſe he was going to the Duke of Dorſel's to Dinner, has [76] ſince my being in this Kingdom, been kind enough to ſend me Five Guineas as a Subſcription; for which I reſt his moſt obliged Servant.

I remark'd to Mr. Cibber, upon this Converſation, that though the Engliſh Nobility were outdone by none in Mu⯑nificence and Liberality; yet I could by no Means conceive, that their Buildings were the leaſt expreſſive of it; ſince there was ſcarcely one fine Houſe in London, which was not obſcured by a monſtrous high Wall, that intirely intercepted the Proſpect, and took much from the Mag⯑nificence the Streets might poſſibly have. He told me, it was the Method in Italy, from whence our Peers, and others, tranſ⯑planted it as a great Beauty, becauſe the Surpriſe has a vaſt Effect. Sir, ſaid I, in Italy thoſe Walls are requiſite, to keep off the extreme Heat of the Sun; and if poſſible to ſhut out the Eye of God from their abominable Pollutions; but as we enjoy a mild and temperate Region, and are I hope, untainted with their beaſtly Vices, I ſee no Reaſon for our Peers to affect it; there is beſides, generally at [77] theſe Gates, a moſt avaricious Cerberus, who, ſhould a Stranger happen to ſtand and gaze at any occaſion of the Gates being opened, would very judiciouſly ſlap it in their Faces, as if our Eyes, like the Sphynx of Egypt, could penetrate Stone Walls. If you have the ſmalleſt Suit to make to his Maſter, the Fellow will be as dull of Apprehenſion as the Mock Doctor, till you tip him the Symp⯑toms; which when you have given him, he prevails on the Valet to deliver it, which muſt alſo be accompanied by a Daub in the Fiſt. I have computed the Expence of Writing to a Great Man, as under,

[78]Theſe Obſervations I thought proper to communicate, as I am perſuaded ſome of the Nobility of England, will be cu⯑rious enough to read this Work, and I do aſſure them, nothing ſo much dims their Luſtre, as the Arrogance and Pe⯑nury of their Vaſſals; which, when they know, perhaps they may reclaim. Dean Swift diſcharged a Servant only for rejecting the Petition of a poor old Wo⯑man; ſhe was very ancient, and on a cold Morning, ſat at the Deanery Steps a con⯑ſiderable Time, during which the Dean ſaw her through a Window, and no doubt commiſerated her deſolate Condi⯑tion. His Footman happened to come to the Door, and the poor Creature be⯑ſought him in a piteous Tone, to give that Paper to his Reverence. The Ser⯑vant read it, and told her with infinite Scorn, his Maſter had ſomething elſe to mind than her Petition. ‘"What's that you ſay, Fellow, ſaid the Dean, look⯑ing out at the Window, come up here.'’ [79] The Man trembling obey'd him: he alſo deſired the poor Woman to come before him, made her ſit down, and ordered her ſome Bread and Wine; after which he turned to the Man, and ſaid, ‘"At what time, Sir, did I order you to open a Paper directed to me? or to refuſe a Letter from any one? Hark ye, Sirrah, you have been admoniſh'd by me for Drunkenneſs, idling, and other Faults, but ſince I have diſcovered your inhuman Diſpoſition, I muſt diſ⯑miſs you from my Service: So pull off my Cloaths, take your Wages, and let me hear no more of you."’—The Fellow did ſo, and having vainly ſollicited a Diſcharge, was compelled to go to Sea, where he continued five Years; at the end of which time, finding that Life far different from the Eaſe and Luxury of his former Occupation, he re⯑turned, and humbly confeſſing, in a Pe⯑tition to the Dean, his former manifold Crimes; he aſſured him of his ſincere Reformation, which the Dangers he had [80] undergone at Sea, had happily wrought, and begg'd the Dean would give him ſome Sort of Diſcharge, ſince the Ho⯑nour of having liv'd with him, would certainly procure him a Place. Accord⯑ingly, the Dean call'd for Pen, Ink and Paper, and gave him a Diſmiſſion, with which, and no other Fortune, he ſet out for London.

Among others he applied to me, who had known him at his late Maſter's, and produc'd his Certificate; which for its Singularity, I tranſcribed, and believe it may not be diſpleaſing to the Reader.

[81]I adviſed him to go to Mr. Pope, who, on ſeeing the Dean's Hand-writing, which he well knew, told the Man, if he could produce any credible Perſon, who would atteſt, that he was the Servant that the Dean meant, he would hire him. On this Occaſion he applied to me, and I gave him a Letter to Mr. Pope, aſſuring him, that I knew the Man to have been Footman to the Dean. Upon this Mr. Pope took him into his Service, in which he continued till the Death of his Maſter.

'Tis now, I think, full time for me to take up my Clue, and go on with my Memoirs; previous to which it is, how⯑ever, I think, it incumbent on me, to in⯑treat my Readers Forgiveneſs for my ſo frequently mentioning, in the Proſecution of my Story, a Perſon ſo contemptible, ſo unworthy even of Satire, as one Worf⯑dale, a Painter; yet thoſe who examine theſe Writings will find, that he is ſo unluckily interweven in my Hiſtory, that it is as impoſſible for me to eradicate him, as it was for Jack, in the Tale of [82] a Tub, to ſtrip his Coat of its Foppe⯑ries, without viſibly defacing the whole.

Worſdale went abroad, and I took an Opportunity to make my Eſcape, to viſit Mr. Cibber, and met, according to Cu⯑ſtom, a very kind Reception: For his Friendſhip to me was inviolable. He was writing the Character and Conduct of CICERO conſider'd; and did me the Honour to read it to me: I was infinitely pleaſed to find, by the many lively Sal⯑lies of Wit in it, that the good Gentle⯑man's Spirits were undepreſs'd with Years;—Long may they continue ſo. This gave me an Opportunity of writing a Poem to him, which W—e had the Confidence to aſk from me; but I did not chuſe to compliment him with it: [The Editor has applied to Mr. Cibber for a Copy of this Poem, but he having diſpoſed of them all, we are obliged to omit it].

Mr. Cibber was exceeding well pleas'd when I waited on him with it, and ſaid, he would give it a Place, but that it wanted Correction, which he promiſed to beſtow on it: This I readily agreed to, [83] being convinced his Judgment far ſur⯑paſſed mine.

I waited on him next Morning, and found he had greatly improved my Work: I thank'd him for his obliging Pains, but remarked his Modeſty in having ſtruck out ſome Lines, in which he was moſt praiſed.

Well, Madam, ſaid he, there are two Guineas for your Flattery, and one more for the Liberty I took. I bleſſed my Benefactor ſincerely, from my Soul; he ſmiled benevolent: ‘"Come, ſaid he, I have more good News for you; Mr. Stanhope alter'd a Line, for which he deſires you will accept of a Guinea: Mr. Hervey alſo pays you the ſame Compliment, for changing one Mo⯑noſyllable for another:"’ To ſay the Truth, I only wiſhed every Gentleman at White's had, on the ſame Terms, taken the ſame Liberty, till my Work, like Admiral Drake's Ship, had been ſo often mended, that not a Bit of the original Stuff it was compos'd of, ſhould remain; for

I could do no more than (after ſome joyful Tears) to aſſure Mr. Cibber, that neither his own Favours to me, nor thoſe he had ſollicited for me, ſhould ever be forgot, while this poor Machine of mine had any Exiſtence.

Surely I hope we ſhall know our Friends after Death, that we may hold ſweet Communion with them; and

What ſtrange things are thought; and Reflections, how do they wander? Who [85] but the Almighty can account for them? I went, when in London, to be electrified, when finding the Motion given to a glaſs Globe not only made Sparks of Fire come out of my Arm, but alſo ſet a Bowl of Sand under it a boiling, I could not help thinking, that the Earth revolving each Day on its own Axis, muſt of courſe take Fire, as I have ſeen a Chariot-wheel do: Our Globe may then become a Comet, and the Inhabitants of others gaze on it with Surprize and Admiration. I think no Philoſopher has yet been able to tell us, by all their mathematical Rules, what Comets are. I have been told many Stars, which once adorn'd the blue etherial Space, have diſappear'd; Worlds perhaps loſt in a Conflagration, which no more fill the wide Expanſe.

But how I ramble out of my Sphere, in a vain Attempt to ſoar above it,

[86]I long to liſten to the young ey'd Che⯑rubims, and am weary of the World; but what of that, I gave not Life to myſelf, nor dare I attempt to abridge it.

Reader, excuſe me; if you are a Man of Senſe I am certain you will, and from the Ladies I yet hope Compaſſion; tho' rarely met with from one Woman to an⯑other.

Had I ſtray'd from the Paths of Vir⯑tue, when turn'd out deſolate to the wide World, forſaken by all my once dear ſeeming Friends, and tender Relatives, I might at leaſt have hoped for Pity, and given Neceſſity as a Plea for Error: This has made me ſo circumſtantial in every Particular of my nine Years living in London, where I am certain I have many Friends, and thoſe ſuch as would be an Honour to any Perſon to gain. And I really was

My dear and honour'd Lady Codring⯑ton, thou lovely Epitome of every female [87] Virtue, whoſe Ear is ſhut to Scandal, whoſe Hand is liberal, whoſe Chaſtity immaculate, whoſe Zeal to ſerve the diſ⯑ſtreſs'd unwearied, whoſe Friendſhip I experienced when you kindly pleaded in my behalf to her Grace the late Dutcheſs of Marlborough, to the royal Offspring of our auguſt Monarch, and whoſe Polite⯑neſs is as conſpicuous as your every other amiable Virtue;

Pardon me, Abſtract of all Goodneſs, that I dare to whiſper your immortal Name; but your ſweet Epiſtle, when you told me it was neceſſary for me to write a Letter of Acknowlegement to her Grace, which Letter I ſubmitted to your Lady⯑ſhip's ſuperior Judgment to correct, where there was any thing defective; pardon my Vanity, I muſt inſert:

As I had wrote my Letter to her Grace in a very ſmall Hand, a Fault we Scrib⯑blers are apt to run into, whence ariſe numerous Miſtakes, I aſked Lady Co⯑drington, whether her Grace, who was now declin'd into the Vale of Years, could ſee to read it? She aſſured me, ſhe could, as well as I: This put me in mind of ſome very fine Lines, wrote on this illuſtrious Lady, in the Kit-cat Toaſts, which cannot but be acceptable to my Readers.

To all this noble Family my Reſpect and Gratitude are due; 'tis a Bleſſing to our Iſland, that ſome of their Deſcen⯑dants, equal in Wiſdom and Virtue to their Anceſtors, vouchſafe to reſide in it, where may they flouriſh like the Cedars of Libanus.

But to return: I was now able to quit my Confinement; for Worſdale made his Houſe a ſevere one to me: Oh how I rejoiced at my Deliverance, and took a little decent Lodging; but my Joys were periſhable as the baſeleſs Fabrick of a Viſion: Captain Meade, with whom I mentioned my Son's going on the ſecret [90] Expedition, came to tell me, that the Boy and he landed the Day before; that my Son was ſeized with all the Symptoms of a violent Fever, and wanted to ſee me. I went to the Captain's Lodgings, in Scotland-Yard, and found my poor Wan⯑derer quite light-headed. The Captain ſent a Phyſician and a Surgeon to him, with Orders to the Miſtreſs of the Houſe to provide for him whatever was neceſ⯑ſary, and he would anſwer the Expence For many Days we deſpair'd of his Life, till at length God's Mercy reſtor'd him to my Prayers and Tears. When he came perfectly to himſelf he told me, they had been in a violent Tempeſt, where, the Waves rolling Mountains high, he was wet to his Skin, and the Ship in imminent Danger of being loſt: Captain Meade, he ſaid, begged of God, that he might juſt ſee his Wife and Children, and then he ſhould die without the ſmalleſt Re⯑luctance; his Prayer was heard, the Storm abated, and all got ſafe on Shore.

As he was impatient to ſee his Family, he had left Directions for my Son to fol⯑low [91] him to Teddington, if it pleaſed God he recover'd. As I knew nothing could be a greater Reſtorative, after a Fit of Sickneſs, than a pure Air, I recommend⯑ed that ſovereign Elixir to him: He went the Moment he was able, and ſent me the next Day the following Letter.

[92]My Son's Prognoſtick happened to prove true, the Captain expir'd about four the next Morning, of which the Boy was firſt inform'd by the diſmal Out⯑cry of the Widow and Children. This Woman's Character has ſomething in it ſo far ſurpaſſing any thing I have yet met with, that I hope it may at once divert and inſtruct my Readers; the Story is genuine.

She was the Daughter of Mr. Wh—f—ld, of Canterbury, an ancient and honourable Family, many of whom had Seats in Parliament; but it ſeems he had ſtray'd from the Wiſdom and Virtue of his Anceſtors, and devoted himſelf intirely to Belial. Women and Wine were all his Joy, till he broke his Lady's Heart: And, Oh ſtrange to hear, ſhocking to human Nature! had the the Cruelty to attempt his Virgin Daugh⯑ters! one of whom, to protect herſelf from ſuch devilliſh Solicitations, ran away with his Coachman.

The Heroine of our Story, being left alone, was ſo tormented by his inceſtu⯑ous infernal Fire, that ſhe fled to her younger Brother, who was an Apothe⯑cary, and lived at W—d—r.

As he was a Batchelor, he was very glad of her, to over-ſee his domeſtick Af⯑fairs, which, I dare ſay, ſhe did very well, as ſhe was a good Houſewife, eſpecially in the frugal Part of Management: It happened another Apothecary fell in love with her, but nothing could prevail on her to accept of him as a Huſband, tho' her Brother tried every Art he could to perſuade her to it.

Things were in this Situation when Captain Mead was commanded on Duty to W—d—r, and as he had often been there, was well acquainted with the Town, and as well eſteem'd: Miſs Wh—f—d and her Brother, with ſome young Ladies, were walking on the Terraſs, [94] when Captain Meade accoſted them. They fell into Chat, and Mr. Wh—f—ld invited the Captain to Supper; after which the young Lady retir'd.

Mr. Wh—f—ld then acquainted the Captain with his Siſter's obſtinate Refuſal of an advantageous Match. ‘"She has,’ ſaid he, ‘"ſeem'd to pay a particular Deference to every Word you ſpoke to-night, and, I am certain, if you undertake the Lover's Cauſe, you will bring my Siſter to Reaſon."’

The Captain ſaid it would be too abrupt to pretend to adviſe a Lady he had never ſeen before, in ſo delicate a Point as that of Matrimony, wherein many Circumſtances ought to be con⯑ſidered, in order to a Union firm and laſting. It may be, ſaid he, the young Lady's Heart is pre-engaged; in that Caſe, how cruel would it be to force her into a hateful Wedlock, the Conſequence of which is Miſery?

Mr. Wh—f—ld then aſſured him, he had no ſuch Intention, all he aimed at was her Happineſs: ‘"Cultivate, added he, [95] a Friendſhip with her; you may eaſily do it, and diſcover the true Cauſe of her Averſion toward an honeſt good Man, who loves her, and is in Cir⯑cumſtances to maintain her in Eaſe and Plenty."’

Captain Mead promiſed all in his Power, and when, by frequenting the Houſe, he had got into a little Intimacy with her, he in a paternal Stile, when they were alone, expoſtulated with her, to no pur⯑poſe: She ſaid, ſhe was determined never to marry, as ſhe was certain ſhe ſhould never have the Man ſhe only could love.

He preſſed very hard to know who it was; aſſuring her of his Friendſhip; and, at the ſame time, laying hold of her Hand, ſaid, he muſt be inſenſible indeed, who did not, above all other Conſidera⯑tion, regard ſo much Tenderneſs and Beauty.

He perceiv'd ſhe trembled, bluſh'd, and ſeem'd quite confounded: ‘"Would to God, Madam, ſaid he, that I was the happy Occaſion of all thoſe tender Emotions which ſwell your fair Bo⯑ſom, [96] how bleſt ſhould I think my⯑ſelf?"’ And are you, ſaid ſhe, in a fault'ring Voice, are you in earneſt, or do you only trifle with a Weakneſs, which your Penetration muſt have obſerved, even from the firſt Moment I beheld you?

Altho' this Declaration was very plain, yet it was ſo unexpected, that the Cap⯑tain was for ſome Moments at a Loſs how to make a ſuitable Return: But, recovering himſelf, he told her, Joy had made him ſpeechleſs, but from that Hour he was intirely devoted to her for Life.

He then aſk'd her in Marriage of her Brother, who abſolutely refuſed her to him, on account of his being in the Army.

But as the Lady was willing to be the kind Companion of his Flight, he hired a Chariot and Six, and took her with him.

This Story Captain Meade told me before her: Nor did ſhe in the leaſt at⯑tempt to deny it; but ſaid, ſhe had [97] gain'd a good Huſband by her Since⯑rity.

Indeed, while I was with them, they ſeemed to me perfect Patterns of conju⯑gal Love; but her Fondneſs ſeem'd to ſurpaſs all things, for ſhe would kiſs her Husband's Linen, ſaying, they ſmelt of Violets and Roſes; but truly, though I lov'd my dear Relation very well, I was grown ſo delicate I did not like a dirty Shirt (for that was ſometimes the Caſe) to be offered to me as a Noſegay.

Her Piety was ſo great, that Whitſunday Morning, when we were going to Church, which was near half a Mile from Captain Meade's Houſe, a young Lady called to us, to know, did the Bell ring? Mrs. Meade anſwered, yes, but finding even the Church-yard Door not open'd, ſhe ſaid, ſhe would not receive the Sacrament that Morning: I aſked her, why ſhe ſhould not? Becauſe, ſaid ſhe, I have told a Lye, in ſaying the Bell rang: I told her Scruple to Doctor Hales; who join'd us, and preſently diſpelled her [98] Fears, by aſſuring her, an innocent Miſ⯑take could never be deemed a Lye.

Upon this we both ventured to receive the bleſſed Euchariſt, adminiſtered to us by a truly holy Hand; for, aſſuredly, Doctor Hales, yours is ſuch. And let no Perſon ſay, I do not reverence the Clergy, for I really do; but not any one of them, who does not, as near as Hu⯑manity can go, aim at the Perfection of their Maker and Redeemer.

As I have already related the Manner of Captain Meade's Death, let us ſee how his pious Widow behav'd herſelf on the Occaſion; after having yell'd and ſcream'd to ſave Appearances, ſhe lock'd up his Body, and had him next Day buried.

She deſired my Son, who remained diſconſolate in the Houſe, to go to the Tower, and bring home whatever of the Captain's was there; but he being ap⯑prehenſive that, perhaps, on Account of his Youth, and his not having a Line with him, they might be refuſed to him, begg'd of me to accompany him; which, as I was truly deſirous of rendering any [99] Service I could to his Family, I readily did. When we arrived at his Apart⯑ment there, for the Officers keep one in every Place where they are obliged to be on Guard, and told the Miſtreſs of the Houſe my melancholly Errand, ſhe gave me the Keys of his Bureau, Port⯑manteau, Trunk, &c.

When I took out his Regimentals, his Saſh, and many other things appertain⯑ing to him, in which I had ſo often ſeen him array'd, I could not refrain burſting into Tears, to think the dear Wearer of them was now no more. Amongſt other things we found two Guineas, which was a ſeaſonable Relief to the Widow. The Soldiers on Duty wept like Children at his Death's ſad Story. My Son convey'd all things ſafe; but the Sight of them did not take the ſame Effect on his Re⯑lict that they had done on me; for ſhe only ſaid, ſhe was very glad to get them.

My Boy, who colours Prints beauti⯑fully, was employed by Mr. Millan, ſo that he was innocently and elegantly em⯑ployed. [100] The Sweets of getting Money made him doubly diligent; and, to be quite undiſturbed, which it was impoſſi⯑ble he ſhould be with me, ſo many Per⯑ſons coming for Letters, Petitions, &c. he took a Lodging for himſelf. I was one Day exceedingly ſurpriſed when the Penny-poſt brought a Letter, directed to my Son; as it was marked Teddington I open'd it, judging it was ſome Buſineſs that Mrs. Meade wanted to have tranſ⯑acted; when, O ſhameful! it was a Love-letter to the Child, who was but ſixteen Years of Age, and ſhe is four Years older than I am, with a Direction to him to meet her at a Coffee-houſe in London, and an Offer of Marriage to him.

I really could ſcarce believe the true and credible Avouchment of my own Eyes. Bleſs me! ſhe amaz'd me! yet, thinking this might be a Counterfeit, I ſhew'd it to the Boy, and deſired he would go, and ſee into this Matter, nei⯑ther of us being acquainted with her Hand, which was a deſperate bad one.

[101]He went accordingly, and ſtay'd moſt Part of the Evening abroad: When he return'd, he ſaid he had inquired after her every-where, and could not learn any Tidings of her; ſo I conceived this Let⯑ter was either wrote by ſome Enemy of hers, or elſe for Sport, by ſome of the Girls at Teddington, in order to ſend him on a Wild-gooſe Chaſe.

About ſix Weeks after the Captain's Death an Officer inquired for me; as I did not know him I aſked, what Com⯑mands he had for me? He deſired to know of me, whether I was not a near Relation to Captain Meade: To which, anſwering in the Affirmative, I deſired the Gentleman to ſit, for he looked as if he had ſomething of Importance to de⯑liver. Pray, Madam, ſaid he, can you inform me what is become of the Cap⯑tain's Widow; my Reaſon for inquiring is this; a prior Wife has ſet up a Claim to the Penſion, and produced a Certifi⯑cate, which we believe to be a Counter⯑fit, as it is dated twenty Years ago, and 'tis but reaſonable to think ſhe would, [102] in that time, have aſſerted her juſt Rights. But this is not all, the Officers have made a Collection for the Lady he acknow⯑ledg'd, and the Children: But there is a Report ſpread, that ſhe is married to a Boy, young enough to be her Son, who was a Helper in the Captain's Stable. This has damped the Charity of thoſe who, had ſhe even been deceived by the Captain, would have aſſiſted her.

I told him I had often heard the Cap⯑tain relate that, in his younger Days, he got in a League with one Mrs. Meadows, who, after having been divorced from her Huſband, ſet up a Coffee-houſe, where he boarded and lodg'd: He found her in every Reſpect ſo unfaithful to him, that he quitted her. Not long after ſhe broke; and, being in Diſtreſs, applied to Captain Meads, who, in Conſideration of former Friendſhip, agreed to give her annually 20 l. provided ſhe retired; which ſhe agreed to.

I can't, Sir, ſaid I, help thinking this is ſome Piece of her Contrivance: 'Tis very poſſible, Madam, return'd he; and [103] if you will be ſo kind to inquire into it, that theſe Reports may be confuted, it will be of the utmoſt Conſequence to⯑wards the future Welfare of the Widow and Orphans of your deceaſed Relation. I ſhall pay my Reſpects to you again in two or three Days. The Gentleman left me, and, after a good deal of Search amongſt Mrs. Meade's Acquaintance, I learned ſhe lodged in the Strand. There I went, and found her in a very indif⯑ferent Lodging; the Children were in deep Mourning, but Madam herſelf was deck'd out very gay. After cuſtomary Compliments, I told her I was ſurpriſed to ſee her out of Mourning: Why, Caw⯑zan, for that was her manner of Pro⯑nunciation, I am married. What, al⯑ready, return'd I, e'er the Man you ſeem'd to doat on, even to Extravagance, is cold in his Grave. Cold, ſays ſhe, aye, he's cold enough, and rotten too, by this time. May be you made him ſo before Death. Why ſhould you think ſo? Be⯑cauſe you ſeem to have thrown of com⯑mon Decency: And is this all the Re⯑ſpect [104] you pay to ſo good a Huſband? In anſwer to this, and to my great Surprize, ſhe aſſured me, ſhe never was married to the Captain in her Life.

Here was Hypocriſy! (that ſly Fiend who 'ſcapes all but the piercing Eye of GOD) in its utmoſt Perfection; if one may make uſe of ſuch an Epithet to ſuch a deviliſh Sin. To live in Fornication, yet go to the Communion without the leaſt Purpoſe of Amendment of Life, and to pretend ſuch ſtrong Affection to a Man, whoſe very Memory ſhe ſhewed ſhe hated; I ſhall ever after this ſuſpect the Sincerity of ſuch an over-acted Fond⯑neſs.

I told her my Errand, and that I was really ſorry ſhe had put it out of my Power to vindicate her Conduct; which, cut of Regard to the poor Children, I would gladly have done. She told me, Doctor Hales approved of her Proceed⯑ing; and ſo ſhe did not care what I thought. Though I am certain this muſt have been falſe, for the Doctor had ſuch high Notions of conjugal Fidelity, that [105] he was true to the Aſhes of his Spouſe, whom he loſt when he was but a very young Man, and having an agreeable Perſon, a ſweet Temper, and unbounded Learning, might no Doubt have raiſed his Fortune by a ſecond Marriage.

Amongſt other Inſtances of her Hypo⯑criſy, this Woman uſed to pretend, that even ſmall Beer got into her Head, and would ſeverely cenſure any Lady who drank a Glaſs of Wine; yet now, though it was but nine o' Clock in the Morning ſhe called for a Dram, drank it off, and would have had me follow her Example, but I had no Inclination to ſuch a Break⯑faſt: Beſides, having no other Eſtate but my Head, on which were hourly De⯑mands, it was by no other means my Intereſt to deſtroy it.

I took my Leave; and, when I re⯑lated this to my Son, the Boy laughed exceſſively; and, as he then had no man⯑ner of Reſpect for her, he told me, he had gone to her according to her Ap⯑pointment; that ſhe had treated him with two Bottles of Mountain, and preſs'd: [106] him hard to marry her: Indeed I re⯑member, when he came home, I ſaw he had been drinking, but he ſaid ſome young Gentlemen of Ireland, whom he met, gave him a Bottle of Wine.

However, ſome time after, ſhe made him pay for his Liquor, for ſhe opened a Punch-houſe, which I believe ſhe ſtill keeps, at leaſt ſhe did when I left Lon⯑don; ſhe wrote a Letter to my Son, to deſire to ſee him; accordingly he went; and Madam Temperance carried him in⯑to the Dining-room, and ordered her Husband, who ſerved in Quality of Waiter, to bring up a Bowl of Arrack-Punch, and half a Dozen Glaſſes of Jelly. The Boy was well pleaſed with this ſumptuous Fare; but when the good Chear was ended, ſhe demanded Pay⯑ment, and he was obliged to part with his Week's Earning, which he had juſt received. What could the moſt mer⯑cenary Proſtitute have done worſe?

But I believe ſhe is ſufficiently pu⯑niſh'd, for I was well aſſured the Groom [107] took the Liberty of correcting her, and no-body pitied her.

I think the Philoſopher was in the wrong who wiſhed for Windows in the human Breaſt; how miſerable muſt we have been, when we beheld thoſe whom we eſteem'd Friends, under ſpecious Ap⯑pearance, plotting our Deſtruction; the Object of our Love, even in the midſt of well-feign'd Rapture, wiſhing them⯑ſelves in the Arms of another: The Son who bows his Knee in filial Reverence to his hoary Sire, curſing the Gout, Pitargo, and the Rheum, for ending him no ſooner. In ſhort, the Scenes would be too ſhocking; they would quite imbite Life.

Thoſe philoſophical Gentlemen, who have ſearched into the Secrets of Na⯑ture, have admired the Wiſdom of Pro⯑vidence, in kindly concealing from us many things, which known, would make us wretched: I am ſure it was well for poor Captain Meade this Woman's Breaſt was not tranſparent.

[108]They have farther obſerved, that were our Perceptions ſtronger than they are, the Senſes, which convey Pleaſure to us, would become the Inſtruments of intoler⯑rable Pain.

How terrible muſt be our Condition?

Moſt married Perſons, even in the happieſt Wedlock, which is, at beſt, but tolerable, look back with ſecret Regret on the ſweet Hours of Freedom, when no Anxiety reign'd, ſuch as the Care of a Family, the Sickneſs, or Diſ⯑obedience of Children, the total Loſs of them, and a thouſand Troubles which perplex the married Life; and yet no [109] ſooner are they ſingle, but they run into the ſame Toils again, hardly affording time for a decent Mourning: Strange In⯑fatuation! In which, I think, the Ladies more excuſable than the Men, ſince their Weakneſs may make them want a Pro⯑tector; yet they who can have Reſolution enough to know no ſecond Bride-bed but the Grave, certainly claim a higher Degree of Reſpect and Veneration.

In this aimable Light ſhines the preſent Lady Dowager Meade, who, tho' left a Widow, in the Bloom of her Youth and Beauty, the Widow of a Gentleman old enough to be her Father, who loſt her ſole Guardian to their Offſpring, turn'd all her Thoughts to the Improvement of her Childrens Minds, and Fortunes, in both of which Heaven crown'd her Goodneſs with Succeſs, and the World with Honour.

I could mention another great Lady, not unallied to her, who though ſhe has many Virtues, as I have acknowledged in my firſt Volume, being left exactly in the ſame Situation, was ſo faithful a [110] Steward for her Son, that with his Rents, which ſhe received during his Minority, ſhe purchaſed an Eſtate for herſelf; a thouſand Pounds a Year Jointure not be⯑ing ſufficient for her, neither would ſhe ever come to any Account with him for the Produce of his Eſtate. The Gentle⯑man had too high a Senſe of filial Piety to commence any Suit in Law againſt his Mother, though ſhe was married to a ſecond Husband, much younger than her⯑ſelf, and has been

I am ſure, Mr. Pilkington, I pray heartily for your Life, leſt I ſhould ever be ſuch a Fool as to engage in new Scenes of Trouble; for if I could not keep your Heart, properly due to me, at a Time when the flattering World called me agreeable,

And now, to convince you, that I bear no Malice to you, I will tell you an authentic Truth, true as the Goſpel; for one Truth is, even by mathematical Demonſtration, adequate to another.

I was, ſince I came to Dublin, invited to a Widower's Houſe to Dinner: As his Buſineſs called him out, he had left Orders for my Reception; your youngeſt Son was with me, and we were ſhewn into a Parlour, where a Gentleman ſat reading my firſt Volume. I did not in⯑terrupt him, as he ſeem'd to be deeply engaged. The Maſter of the Houſe com⯑ing in, and ſaying, ‘"Mrs. Pilkington, I am very glad to ſee you, and your Son;"’ made the Gentleman look at us attentively: After Dinner, he told us, he had a Bond and Judgment entered on [112] it againſt you, at the Suit of Mr. Clark, the Brewer; that hitherto he had been compaſſionate, ſuppoſing us to be ſuch Creatures as your Imagination had painted us out to the Worl [...] to be: But, ſaid he, now I am convinced of my Error, I ſhall ſhew him no farther Mercy: My Boy ſtarting up, cry'd, What do you mean to do to my Father? Nothing, ſaid Mr. Edwards, only to try how he will brook Impriſonment; 'tis full as fi [...] for him as for your Mother; for my own part I was weak enough to burſt into Tears, and your Son ſwore a good privateer Oath, that he would ſhoot any Man who ſhould offer to diſtreſs his Father.

Mr Edward ſeem'd ſurpriſed, as judg⯑ing, no doubt, we ſhould have re⯑joiced in your Calamity, as you had done in ours; yet being of a generous, humane Diſpoſition, he was touch'd with our Sorrows, and granted that Liberty you now enjoy to our Interceſſion: You know the Perſ [...]n, and, if I ſet down a Falſhood, let him diſprove me.

[113]Upon my Word, I muſt contradict the witty Mr. Congreve, who ſays,

For I do not hate you. I am in an Apathy, a cool Suſpence from Pleaſure, and from Pain, both of which I muſt acknowledge I received from you; but that was when you wrote in my Praiſe; and, at the very ſame time, ſaid every thing diſagreeable to me: Was not this done to deceive the World? ‘"I will make them believe I love her; and, as ſhe has too much Pride and Decency to complain of me, I will in⯑dulge my Pleaſure abroad, with Miſs ^* N—y S—d—s, or the Widow, or any W—e."’

I can't indeed ſay, but Miſs S—d—s's Father owed a Favour to Mr. Pilkington, who kindly taking Compaſſion on his Neceſſities, when his Lady was not ſa⯑tisfied with his keeping a Miſtreſs in the [114] Houſe with her, and inſiſted on her be⯑ing diſmiſs'd: Mr. P—n, ever hu⯑mane, received her to his Habitation with open Arms, gave the old Gentle⯑man free Ingreſs and Egreſs, for which he gratefully permitted the Parſon to go to bed to his Daughter; indeed I ſhould have pitied her, had ſhe been deceived by the Report of my Death, ſo induſtri⯑ouſly ſpread, into Marriage; but ſhe had it under my own Hand, that I was living, for I did the Creature the Honour, S—t as ſhe is, to write to her, in order to prevent her being impoſed on. I think the Form of Matrimony really wants an Explanation, if we go according to the ſtrict Letter of the Law. What a happy State muſt a young Woman imagine her⯑ſelf entering into, where ſhe is to be lov'd, honour'd, cheriſh'd, nay, even worſhipped; ſhe has a Protector till the Hour of Death, who is to forſake all, even his Parents, for her, if it be re⯑quired, who endows her with his For⯑tune, and promiſes all this ſolemnly at the Altar.

[115]Then follow the Words, Thoſe whom GOD hath joined, let no Man put aſ⯑ſunder.

Now let us ſee how this is really to be interpreted, at leaſt how far this Cove⯑nant is uſually kept.

No ſooner is the Honey-moon expir'd but the fawning Servant turns a haughty Lord: Inſtead of honouring his Wife, 'tis Odds if he treats her with common Civility; he ſhall tell her, to her Face, he wiſhes her Death, in order to marry another. The Cuſtom authorizes this free way of ſpeaking; yet I never knew it agreeable to any Wife, nor did I ever doubt but the Huſband ſpoke in the Sin⯑cerity of his Heart.

As for our being endow'd with the worldly Goods of our Husbands, 'tis known they are ſo little apt to ſhare with us, that it has always been found neceſſary, in a Marriage-Settlement, to ſtipulate for Pin-money, a very uſeful Clauſe even to the Husband, and it is much better his Wife ſhould have a Share of his Fortune, than be obliged to a [116] Gallant for a Trifle, which Gratitude may make her repay in too tender a manner.

Indeed the laſt Article againſt Divorce⯑ment, I intirely diſapprove of; and am glad it has ſeem'd good to the Wiſdom of the Church to act in direct Contra⯑diction to it: This has made Numbers eaſy, and, as they tell us, 'tis not lawful to ſeparate on any Cauſe, ſave that of Adultery. A Woman of Spi [...]it, who is married to a ſordid diſagreeable Wretch, has nothing to do but to make him a Cuckold; and then welcome thrice dear Liberty: Yet methinks the Husbands ſhould, in Juſtice, return to their Wives, when they abandon them, the Dowry they brought with them: Now, leſt my worthy Husband ſhould ſay by this Rule, I ſhould have nothing, who had not a Portion regularly paid, and yet was a pe [...]petual Fortune to him, I'll tell him a Story.

The Counteſs of Eglantine, one of the greateſt Beauties in Scotland, fell under the Diſpleaſure of her Lord, for no other [117] Cauſe but having brought him ſeven Daughters, all charming as this fair Northern Laſs, and never a Son: On this his Lordſhip aſſured her, he was deter⯑mined to ſue for a Divorce. The Lady told him, ſhe would readily agree to a Separation, provided he gave her back what he had with her. He, ſuppoſing ſhe meant pecuniary Affairs, aſſured her ſhe ſhould have her Fortune to the laſt Penny. Nay, nay, my Lord, ſaid ſhe, ‘"that winna do; return me my Youth, Beauty, and Virginity, and diſmiſs me as ſoon as you pleaſe:"’ His Lord⯑ſhip being unable to anſwer this Demand, ſpoke no more of parting with his Lady, and, e'er the Year expired, ſhe made him the glad Father of a lovely Boy, whoſe Birth reſtored Love and Harmony to his noble Parents. This was related to me by the late Lord Primroſe; and therefore I believe it.

But now, Mr. P—n, tho' I pre⯑ſented you with this Piece, don't think I meant you ſhould take a Hint, and endeavour to end our matrimonial War⯑fare [118] in the ſame manner: No, no, tho' you linger about the Door in an Evening, in your long Cloke, and Slops; and that I do believe thee to be my Spouſe, by the amorous Glances darted thro' thy Spy-glaſs, at the Window of my ſacred and ſequeſtred Bower, where no profane thing, Prieſt, Dog, nor Worm, dare en⯑ter, I am reſolved to remain obdurate: Sooner ſhall Lambs make Love to Lambs, Tygers to Tygers, and every Creature couple with its Foe, as the Poet wittily expreſſes it, than I unite with thee.

Yet verily thou doſt manifeſt ſome Tokens of Grace, inaſmuch as thou dareſt not to contradict the Truth; I fancy when thy Pen-uſing Talents periſh'd, thy Pen-making ones ſhot forth; which have been ſo fortunate as to recommend thee more effectually to a certain B—'s Favour, than could ten hundred thouſand Folios, ſprung from thy ſhallow Brain.

And truly this is an uſeful Accom⯑pliſhment; I wiſh I poſſeſſed it, 'twould ſave me ſome Pence in the Year; but there are different Talents beſtow'd on [119] different People; I muſt even reſt con⯑tented with ſuch as I have,

than mine ſhall be,

I make no Application.

There are many ſtrange Ways of get⯑ting into the Favour of the Great, Pimp⯑ing, Lying, Flattering: Who can be Proof againſt the Force of ſuch united Virtues? For your great Men who have too much Honour to pay a juſt Debt never fail to reward the Servant of their [120] Vices; and it may be, ſome odd Knack recommends them, where thoſe baſer Applia [...]s are not required. On which I have thought of a Story not quite fo⯑reign to the preſent Purpoſe.

A Man who had a ſpent a good Part of his Life in dri [...]ing Pins into a Wall; on the Point of each he would with infi⯑nite Dexterity throw a Pea; his Fame ſpread even to the Emperor, who deſired to ſee this matchleſs Son of Science; over⯑joyed he came, ſhewed his Trick to the infinite Pleaſure of the Spectators; the Emperor highly applauded him, and as he ſuppoſed this muſt be a Work of long Practice to arrive at ſuch a Proficiency in it, demanded of him how many Years he had ſpent in attaining it; the Fellow being willing to inhance his own Merit, aſſured the Monarch he had ſpent thirty Years in it; on which the Emperor ordered him thirty Baſtinadoes on the Soals of his Feet, for having ſo much miſſpent his Time.

And, my dear Huſband, if you have your Deſert, you merit juſt ſuch a Re⯑ward for miſapplying Time in Trifles. [121] Writing one good Sermon, or uſeful Book, both of which when I knew you, you were as capable of as moſt young Men, would have tended more to your Reputation, than any merely mechanical Art.

But in ſhort, I ſincerely pity you, and if ever you want a Shilling, let me but know it, and if I have the good Fortune to have a Guinea Subſcription, for Gen⯑tlemen ſeldom ſend me any ſmaller Coin, you ſhall not go without one.

The dignified Clergy indeed have been niggardly to me. Yet not againſt them all do I bring this Accuſation, many of them have even a bleeding Humanity for the Diſtreſſes of their Fellow Creatures; and have not only pitied, but aſſiſted me; and while I can in that noble Liſt inroll the ſacred Names of Berkley and Delany, Patterns of Virtue in their Lives, really apoſtolick in their Doctrine, winning ſtraying Souls with Goodneſs and Humi⯑lity, learned as far as Humanity can ſoar; ſurely no other of the Clergy need ſend me a Meſſage when they ſubſcribe, not to [122] divulge ſo terrible a Secret: I always in this Caſe judge there is more Fear than Charity in their Contributions. But here I muſt remember a certain croſs Dean, to whom, as my Father was Phyſician, I took the Liberty of applying. My Son went with the Letter; he came out, and cried, "Boy, opening his ponderous and toothleſs Jaws, what do you want? An Anſwer, Sir, ſaid he; why, then my Anſwer is, I won't. My Son proteſted he was quite ſtartled at his ferocious Features and ſtentorian Voice. Yet, after all, we laugh'd away our In⯑dignation, as he was really not worth it.

This admirable Orator ought to have a larger Roſtrum than the narrow Limits of a Pulpit to diſplay his graceful Action, and never-enough to be admired Grimace. A Theatre would ſuit his Genius; a Puppet one I mean, where glorious Punch himſelf muſt yield the Prize.

I remember once to have ſeen this Re⯑verend Flamen, in his lengthened Dreſs, aſcend St. Andrew's Pulpit; where, re⯑collecting [123] the enormous Iniquities of the Congregation, he of ſudden gave ſo fu⯑rious a Toſs to his Head, like a metal⯑ſome Horſe hard rein'd, that back fell his Wig and down flew his Sermon; which not being well ſecured, fluttered in nume⯑rous Leaves about the Church, ſcattered like the Ungodly, as Chaff before the Wind; the Sleepers awoke, the old Men who dream'd Dreams, and the Virgins who ſaw Viſions, ſtarted from their dow⯑ny Trance; and he, willing at leaſt, to give us his Benediction, cried aloud, ‘"Depart ye curſed into everlaſting Fire, which that ye may all do, &c. &c. &c."’

The late Lady Rawden, not long after ſhe became a Widow, invited the Dean as her Pariſh Miniſter, to Dinner; the Lady went to take the Air, and Sir John, then a Child, was in the Parlour; the Dean fell into Chat with the ſweet Boy, and amongſt other Queſtions ſaid, do you know me? No, Sir; why I am Dean C—, your Pariſh Miniſter. Poor Maſter innocently verified the old Pro⯑verb, [124] that Children ſpeak Truth, for he cried out, O indeed, I heard my Mam⯑ma ſay, you were the worſt Preacher in Dublin: His Reverence's Wrath was hereupon ſo rais'd, that he failed not to reproach the Lady, who, to pacify him, corrected the poor Child: However, ſhe could not avoid relating the Story; which I heard from Lady Rawden, at Mrs. Percival's, to the infinite Laughter of the Auditors, and which I from henceforth conſign to Fame in theſe my immortal Labours.

I was much obliged to Sir John's Hu⯑manity in London, which I gratefully ac⯑knowledge. But there is one great Man I cannot paſs over; great, according to Serjeant Kite's Definition of one, for he is full ſix Foot high; his Fortune rais'd from the noble Spirit of Malt; for I do remember, like Prince Henry, that poor Creature's Small-Beer, which his Father ſold to mine; and from the golden Grains aroſe a princely Fortune; from the humbly Dray appeared a Coach, ſuch as Ambaſſadors uſe when on public [125] Occaſions, they by their State give us a Picture of the Grandeur of the Poten⯑tate they repreſent.

Not that I would hence infer all Am⯑baſſadors to be Rogues, farther than ly⯑ing a little for the Good of their King and Country.

It was this worthy Gentleman who told them at White's that I had nothing to publiſh: I had quick Intelligence of his Favour; after which Obligation he came to viſit me, and would have been very kind to me becauſe I was a Gentlewo⯑man, a Perſon he could depend on; and he was then in Diſtreſs, being at a Diſtance from his Lady and native Coun⯑try; to be ſure I ought to have been cha⯑ritable, but that I always ſtood in the Way of my own Preferment; and ano⯑ther unlucky Circumſtance for my Swain was, that I remembered the deplorable [126] Condition to which he reduced his firſt Wife, who died of his Love, as did alſo his Child, the Nurſe it was given to, and her Huſband. Noble Atchievements worthy of your illuſtrious Birth and Lineage. For,

However, I ſhould have paſs'd you over in Silence, but that you told a Nobleman here, I had been quite compliant to your Deſire: Why then you prove yourſelf a generous Lover, in ſending me Five Bri⯑tiſh Shillings for a Book. A wondrous Bounty really; why your Neighbour the B— always pays a Moidore Commu⯑tation for Adultery; and ſure you ought to give more than a Man, who by the Power committed to him from above, is entitled to give himſelf Abſolution.

Your hoary canting Sire was a Votary to Venus, even in old Age. When a certain Widow, and her dancing Daugh⯑ter lodged at Glaſnevin, a young Gen⯑tleman [127] who was much enamoured of the younger Dame, uſed to viſit her every Evening; as he did not care to have it known, he went in thro' a low Window to Miſs's Bedchamber: It happened that Miſs being abroad, the venerable Pair made Choice of that Place, to indulge the gentler Paſſions: The young Gentle⯑man came according to Cuſtom, and without Ceremony threw up the Saſh, flew in, and unfortunately ſtarted from their downy Couch the reverend Elder and the chaſte Matron.

Miſs following her Mother's Example, reſigned her Virgin Charms to you, and loſt at once her Health and Reputa⯑tion.

This might have been my unhappy Lot; but that however careleſs I have been about Reputation, I was always de⯑termined not to put my own precious Perſon into any Peril.

Now ſays my Reader, if he be a Gi⯑ber, how this prating old Woman, who certainly never had any Temptation, boaſts of Chaſtity: Ay, 'tis no Matter, I [128] have had ſo many amorous Epiſtles, Odes, Songs, Anacreonticks, Saphics, Lyricks, and Pindaricks, in Praiſe of my Mind and Perſon too, ſent to me ſince I came to Ireland; that I believe ſome Gentlemen, tho' I cannot, have found me out to be a marvellous proper Woman.

And ſome time or other, as I find it is the Mode in London, for the Ladies to publiſh the Triumphs of their Eyes, and how many Men fell a Prey to their Lux⯑ury; or, as Dr. Young ſays,

[129] Though I cannot indeed produce ſuch dreadful Proofs of my Beauty as ſome of them; nor chuſe I to have my Print ex⯑hibited before my Work, but Teſtimo⯑nies of Authors with Regard to it, I hope I may be allowed. The ſame Va⯑nity Mr. Pope ſhews in the Vindication of his Wit, Learning and Humanity may be pardoned in a Female, in the Vin⯑dication of that far nobler Part, external Lovelineſs; for a Mind in a Woman is of little Conſequence. Dr. Young ſeems of a different Mind; but great Authors ſometimes vary: As it is now my Inte⯑reſt to be of his Side the Queſtion, I ſhall give his Opinion, and who knows if it ſhould chance to be true, but my Admirers may be real ones.

And ſo much for what I never had, ex⯑cept according to his Judgment. There as a Proof of my Humility, I put in my Claim, and will, like ^* Socrates, diſpute the Prize even with Alcibiades.

Now I have mentioned this ſmall but inimitable well wrote Book, which was recommended to me by Dr. Swift, and which I in return commend to all ſuch of my fair Readers as have a Taſte for real Wit, in which the divine Socrates as con⯑ſpicuouſly ſhone, as he did in Purity of Life and Conſtancy in Martyrdom; that they peruſe it with Care, as it will refine their Ideas and improve their Judgments, poliſh their Stile, ſhew them true Beauty, and lead them gently and agreeably to its [131] prime Origin and Source; here they will find

I muſt here obſerve in my tracing Au⯑thors thro' each other, Zenophon and Plato borrowed from Socrates, whoſe Diſciples they were. Zenophon acknow⯑ledges it as freely as I do the Inſtructions I received from Dr. Swift. Lord Shaftſ: bury's Search after Beauty, is copied from Socrates; Mr. Pope's Ethics ſtolen from both; and the learned Mr. Hutcheſon's Beauty and Harmony, an Imitation of the great Philoſophers and excellent Moraliſts firſt mentioned.

Had Mr. Hutcheſon ſtop'd at this Book, by which he had acquired ſome Degree of Reputation, both as a Writer, a Divine, [132] and a Mathematician, he had done wiſely; but O! his Eſſay on the Paſſions over⯑turned his ſcarce eſtabliſhed Praiſe; if it has any Meaning, it is like dark veil'd Cotyto, in her Ebon Chair, cloſe curtained round, impenetrably obſcure, or from his Flames,

I really thought it was the Defect of my Head that made me not comprehend this Piece, till I heard the preſent Lord Biſhop of Elphin, whoſe Learning or Judgment were never yet doubted, declare he did not underſtand it. After all, whether the Defect lay in the Book or the B—p let the Reader determine.

Wollaſton's Religion of Nature deli⯑neated, tho' frequently intermingled with Mathematical Proofs, is yet ſo plain, that it demonſtrates the Author's Thoughts clearly; which whoever does, can never fail to write with equal Per⯑ſpicuity. But Learning ſeems encum⯑bered [133] with Words or technical Terms ſig⯑nifying nothing; and our Schoolmaſters, leſt our Children ſhould attain it too ſoon if they ſhould lead them to the Fountain from whence the Streams of Knowledge flow copious to quench or rather to in⯑creaſe that Deſire of it which we obſerve from their firſt prattling Infancy, chuſe rather to make them begin at the Bottom of ſome Rivulet, from whence, with in⯑finite Difficulty, when they have waded about half Way, they are obliged to re⯑tire by the Command of another, then begin at another, till wearied they give over, and hate the fruitleſs, endleſs, un⯑profitable Toil. I believe that formerly they had a better Method of inſtructing than what is now practiſed. I judge this by the Eloquence ſhewn by the Youth of thoſe Ages, and the beautiful Pieces of Poetry ſtill extant, ſome of them ſtiled the minor Poets; perhaps to diſtinguiſh them from the venerable Antients, or on Account of the juvenile Years of the Authors.

[134]Perhaps Nature in her prime Creation was productive of more Strength and Beauty even in the Mind, than at this Time, when Luxury and Exceſs pull down our ros'd-cheek'd Youth, emaciate their Bodies, and enervate their Under⯑ſtandings; for Mind and Body are ſo cloſely united, that whatever affects the one, muſt of Conſequence affect the other.

I hope my Reader will pardon my Re⯑flections on the Works of thoſe valuable Writers I have mentioned, for I mean no Diſreſpect to their ſacred Memories; but as I am accuſed of being a Plagiary my⯑ſelf, which I own I am; my Intention is to prove all Writers to be Thieves as well as their humble Servant, Shakeſpear alone excepted.

Some of my learned Correſpondents ſend me Word I do not write theſe my own Memoirs; why I fancy were I to publiſh their Epiſtles, the World would not believe that any of them were my Aſ⯑ſiſtants; but their Modeſty makes them [135] conceal their Names, and I have no Cu⯑rioſity to diſcover them.

But Authors are a little too fond of Fame to let any one run away with it from them, or a tolerable Performance paſs for the Work of another; I ſpeak from Experience; I have wrote for Num⯑bers, and do ſtill, but no Human Crea⯑ture ever helped me out with a ſingle Line; if they did let it appear a⯑gainſt me, and my Writings be torn to Fragments, or condemned to Flames.

And talking of burning, puts me in mind of dear Lord Kingsborough, who becauſe he ſaw that I endeavour'd to do but barely Juſtice to his inimitable Pen, bid me burn all his Letters, upon which in a Paſſion, I ſnatch'd up my Pen, even before his Face, and ſcribbled the follow⯑ing Lines.

His Lordſhip was ſo humane, as not to inſiſt on my Obedience; and now my Lord, I tell you publickly, that, not the grim Tyrant Death ſhall divorce me from the ineſtimable Treaſure I poſſeſs, they ſhall reſt with me in the Grave, next to my Heart,

I have often, my Lord, reflected with Pleaſure, on the Bleſſing my Father gave me, when he brought your Lordſhip in⯑to the World; why according to the Mid⯑wife's Phraſe, you are one of his Chil⯑dren, and conſequently my Brother, for I muſt prove a Kindred to you, though I fetch it from Japheth; as I have been long buried to my Brother, and by your [138] Lordſhip's Bounty, have acquired a kind of ſecond Birth,

Pardon my Preſumption if I am too bold, 'tis owing to your Lordſhip's Indulgence both to my Scribbling and Prattling Vein. So.

But I think I muſt ſpeak in the Superla⯑tive Mood, and call you beſt of Men; for what Day of your Life paſſes, with⯑out a worthy Deed to crown it? Your Virtue would ſigh to loſe one.

Indeed, my Lord, I love you, and if you are too great to be beloved,

Now, in return, I beg a Place in your Friendſhip, where, if I grow, the Har⯑veſt is your own.

[139]But Oh! I am Sick of many Griefs,

But, perhaps all things are ordered for the beſt, on which Hope, I relate what I know to be Truth.

A Captain of a Man of War took a Fancy to deſpiſe his Wife, and engage with another Woman: The Wife took it patiently, till at laſt he had the Impu⯑dence to tell her, he would either bring his Harlot to live with her, or ſhe and his three Children ſhould turn out: The Lady was confounded at ſo ſtrange a Propoſal, and begg'd three Days time to conſider of it; and then ſhe would give him a determinate Anſwer: He agreed: She told her Affliction to a Friend, and begg'd her Advice; on which they reſolved to conſult Doctor Potter, late Lord Archbiſhop of Canter⯑bury: Accordingly they took a Boat, and went to Lambeth: The good Prelate propoſed an Invocation to the Almighty [140] to direct their Counſels: After Prayers he deſired the Lady not, by any means, to quit her Houſe, but to acquieſce in her Husband's Deſire, and let him bring the Woman home; and, depend on it, ſaid he, God will aſſiſt you, and what at preſent appears an Evil, will turn out a Bleſſing to you: So, giving them his Be⯑nediction, they departed full of Hope of an happy Iſſue.

The Husband, who flatter'd himſelf that the Wife would quit the Houſe, was not a little aſtoniſh'd to find her quite ſubmiſſive to his Commands, and conſent⯑ing to live with his Miſtreſs.

Accordingly he ordered his Chariot, bade his Wife prepare Dinner, and went for his Harlot, whom he brought home triumphant, and handed into the Dining-room; the Wife received her with a Ci⯑vility that confounded and enraged her; ſhe brought her a Glaſs of Lisbon Wine, and then left her with the Captain, who, in a few Minutes came down, and ſeeing all things ready for Dinner, ordered his Wife to go and bring the Lady down: [141] She obey'd, but Madam called her a hundred Names, flew at the Captain, beat him, and put herſelf in ſuch a Rage, that ſhe fell into Fits, was ſeiz'd with a Fever, and died.

After this Cataſtrophe, the Captain ſeriouſly reflecting on the Submiſſion and Virtue of his Wife, thus addreſs'd her: My Dear, if I thought there was a Poſſibility of your pardoning my paſt Errors, and never reproaching me with them, I do aſſure you, I wou'd never fall in⯑to them again, but make a faithful tender Huſband to you. The Lady burſt into joyful Tears at this happy Change, and kindly aſſured him, ſhe would never even think of what was paſt: She told him it was by the Archbiſhop's Advice ſhe had acted with the Moderation ſhe now found to be ſo happy in the Event; and they both went to thank the venerable Prelate, who truly partook in their Joy. The Captain died about a Year after, and left his whole Fortune to his Lady, who lives an honourable Widow at Green⯑wich.

[142]Thus we may ſee, if we perſevere in our Duty, the Almighty is not ſlow to hear, nor reward;

I was told a pretty Circumſtance of his Grace, when he was at Weſtminſter School: It ſeems he ſtood terribly in awe of the Rod, and having committed ſome Miſtake that deſerved Chaſtiſement, which Doctor Busby was very liberal in beſtowing, he was ready to die with the Apprehenſion of it; when a good bold-ſpirited Lad, taking Compaſſion on him, own'd the Fault, and took the Whip⯑ing; for which his timid Friend pro⯑miſed to be grateful, if ever it came in his way to ſerve him: They both took holy Orders, but met not till many Years after, when his Grace was an Archbiſhop, his Friend remained a Curate; but Time, which brings all things about, ſo order'd it, that the Archbiſhop and the Curate [143] met at a Nobleman's Houſe: His Grace, hearing him named, recollected both the Gentleman, the Whipping, and his own Promiſe of Gratitude; and finding the Curate had no Preferment, he gave him a very good Living.

I hope theſe Incidents will not be diſ⯑agreeable to my Readers, as I really ſet down nothing but what I know to be Truth, which is more than moſt of our modern Memorialiſts can ſay, who preſent us with Heaps of Improbabilities, and ex⯑pect implicit Faith from us; and if what ſome of them have told us be genuine, though it may redound to their Profit, it never can to their Honour; for their Actions are neither worthy being record⯑ed, nor their Writings of being read; the true End of Writing being to give In⯑ſtruction with Pleaſure, which, whoever is ſo happy to do, may juſtly hope for a Place in the Temple of Fame: But

And having once more quoted our un⯑rivalled Dean, and being well aſſured no Part of my Work can be half ſo agree⯑able or entertaining to the Publick, as that which relates to him, I ſhall, as far as in my Power, preſent them with his lively Portraiture. The moſt minute Circumſtances relating to ſo great a Man cannot, I hope, be deem'd trivial; ſince we find by Experience, that the Night-Scene, ſo beautifully drawn by Shakeſpear, between Brutus and his Domeſticks, ſleeping in his Tent, the little Incident of his taking the Lute out of the Boy's Hand, and ſaying, when he fell aſleep,

Do we not love him more in this ami⯑able View of him, than in all his Con⯑queſts; or that ſad Act whereby he thought to give his Country Liberty? The World are ſufficiently acquainted with the Dean's publick Character, be it then my Taſk to trace him in private Life; for there only it is we can frame a true Judgment of any Perſon, the reſt is frequently mere Outſide.

When the Dean was at Bellcamp, at the Houſe of the Reverend Doctor Grat⯑ton, he wrote to Doctor Delany, to come and dine with him, mighty Thomas Thumb, and her ſerene Highneſs of Lilly⯑put, meaning my Husband and me: Ac⯑cordingly we went; the Dean came out [146] to meet us, and I, by Agreement, hiding my Face, Mr. Pilkington told him they had picked up a Girl on the Road, and deſired to know whether they might bring her in? He, gueſſing who it was, ſaid, let her ſhew her Face, and if ſhe be likely, we'll admit her. On this I took down my Fan, and ſaid, O, in⯑deed, Sir, I am: Well then, ſaid he, give me your Hand. He led me into a Parlour, where there were twelve Clergy men, and ſaid, thoſe Fellows coming in had brought a Wench with them; but, added he, we'll give her a Dinner, poor Devil! and keep the Secret of our Bre⯑thren:—As moſt of the Gentlemen knew me, we were very merry on this odd Introduction.

Pox on you, you Slut, ſaid the Dean, you gave me a Hint for my polite Con⯑verſation, which I have purſued: You ſaid, it would be better to throw it into Dialogue; and ſuppoſe it to paſs amongſt the Great; I have improved by you: O dear Sir, ſaid I, 'tis impoſſible you ſhould do otherwiſe. Matchleſs Saucineſs! re⯑turn'd [147] he: Well, but I'll read you the Work; which he did with infinite Hu⯑mour, to our high Entertainment.

It was Chriſtmas time, and froze very hard: The Dean, meditating Revenge, ſet the Wine before a great Fire, the Corks of the Wine being ſecured with Pitch and Roſin; which began, in a little while, to melt: No ſooner did the Dean perceive they were fit for his Purpoſe, but he ſlyly rubbed his Fingers on them, and daubed my Face all over. Inſtead of being vexed, as he expected I would, I told him he did me great Honour in ſealing me for his own. Plague on her, ſaid he, I can't put her out of Temper; yet he ſeemed determined to do it, if poſſible, for he aſked the Company, if they had ever ſeen ſuch a Dwarf? and inſiſted, that I ſhould pull off my Shoes till he meaſured me: To this I had no Inclination to ſubmit, but he was an ab⯑ſolute Prince, and Reſiſtance would have little availed me; ſo when I obey'd, he ſaid, Why, I ſuſpected you had either [148] broken Stockings, or foul Toes, and in either Caſe ſhould have delighted to have expoſed you.

He then made me ſtand up againſt the Wainſcot, leaned his Hand as heavy as he could upon my Head, till I ſhrunk under the Weight, to almoſt half my Proportion; then making a Mark with his Pencil, he affirmed, I was but three Foot two Inches high.

Dinner was brought up, and I being, like Mrs. Qualmſick the Curate's Wife, always a breeding, could not eat any; the Gentlemen gueſſing at my Circum⯑ſtances, by my decreaſing Face, and in⯑creaſing Waſte, were ſo over-obliging to know what I liked beſt; that at laſt I told the Dean, I wiſh'd I was a Man, that I might be treated with leſs Cere⯑mony: Why, ſaid the Dean, it may be you are: I wiſh, Sir, ſaid I, you would put the Queſtion to the Company, and accordingly to their Votes, let my Sex be determined. I will, ſaid he; Fil⯑kington, what ſay you? A Man, Sir: they all took his Word; and, in Spite [149] of Petticoats, I was made a Man of af⯑ter Dinner: I was obliged to put a To⯑bacco-pipe in my Mouth; but they ſo far indulged me, as to let it be an empty one; as were the Dean's, Doctor Delany's, and my Husband's.

The Dean aſked me, could I play Crib⯑bidge? I ſaid, I could: Upon which he called for Cards; but, upon Recollection, ſaid, he would not play with a Beggar, for he ſhould ſtand no Chance; for if he won, he would not take the Money, and if he loſt, he muſt in Honour pay. But why a Beggar, Mr. Dean, ſaid Doctor Delany? A married Curate muſt of Con⯑ſequence be a Beggar, return'd he, and you are another; and Pox on me, if I can ever get acquainted with any Perſons but Beggars; and I don't think but this Woman, or Man here, is in the way of producing another. Then, Sir, I hope you will be ſo kind to ſtand Godfather, which will ſecure it from ſo hard a Fate. So! ſaid he, more Demands upon me! Well, if it be a Boy, I don't much care [150] if I do; but if it be a little Bitch I'll never anſwer for her.

A Day or two after this the Dean came to Town, and ſummoning a Sena⯑tus Conſultum, as he called thoſe few Friends whom he peculiarly regarded; he placed us round a great Table, where he told us, we were an empannell'd Jury; and he placed himſelf at the Head of it, where he ſat as Judge. He then told us, the Reaſon why we were ſummoned, Mr. Gratton's favourite Hen was put to Death by an unlucky Stroke of a Whip, by one of my Fellows, as I ſuppoſe: I accuſed them, and they denied the Fact; but as Murder always will come to light, I found the Hen's Head and Neck in the Seat of my Chaiſe-box; and now I want to convict the Criminal: Accordingly he ordered his three Men Servants to come before us, and related the following Story to them: When Doctor Donne, after⯑wards Dean of St. Paul's, London, took Poſſeſſion of the firſt Living he ever had, being a ſpeculative Man, he took a Walk into the Church-yard, where the Sexton [151] was digging a Grave, and throwing up a Skull, the Doctor took it up, to con⯑template thereon; and found a ſmall Sprig, or headleſs Nail ſticking in the Temple, which he drew out ſecretly, and wrapt it up in the Corner of his Hand⯑kerchief; he then demanded of the Grave⯑digger, whether he knew whoſe Skull that was? He ſaid he did, very well; declar⯑ing it was a Man's who kept a Brandy-ſhop, an honeſt drunken Fellow, who one Night taking two Quarts of that comfortable Creature, was found dead in his Bed the next Morning: Had he a Wife, ſaid the Doctor? Yes, Sir: Is ſhe living? Yes: What Character does ſhe bear? a very good one; only indeed the Neighbours reflected on her, becauſe ſhe married the Day after her Husband was buried; though, to be ſure, ſhe had no great Reaſon to grieve after him. This was enough for the Doctor, who under Pretence of viſiting all his Pariſhioners, called on her; he aſked her ſeveral Que⯑ſtions, and amongſt others, What Sick⯑neſs her firſt Husband died of? She giv⯑ing [152] him the ſame Account he had be⯑fore received, he ſuddenly opened the Handkerchief, and cried, in an authori⯑tative Voice, Woman, do you know this Nail? She was ſtruck with Horror at the unexpected Demand, and inſtantly owned the Fact: And ſo, Fellow, ſaid Dean Swift, do you know this Head? The Criminal confeſſed his Fault, and the Jury brought him in guilty of Hen⯑ſlaughter, in his own Defence, for he declared he was hungry, and did eat it, having no Malice prepenſe to it, but ra⯑ther Love. On Account of his Sincerity, and our Interceſſion, the Dean pardon'd him.

Mr. Gratton had preſented the Dean with a ſmall Caſk of fine Ale, of which he was very choice; good Malt-Liquor not being eaſily purchaſed even in Ire⯑land. On Sunday Evening the Dean's Set of Intimates came as uſual, to paſs it with him, and he being in high good Humour, ſaid, he would treat us with a Pot of this Ale. I had the Honour of being intruſted with the Key of the Cel⯑lar, [153] with a particular Order to hold the Candle in ſuch a Poſition, that it might drop into the Tankard; as alſo not to put the Spiggot faſt in, but let the Drink run about. After receiving his Com⯑mands, which I promiſed punctually to obey, I went down, but had ſcarce open'd the Door, when Doctor Delany and Doc⯑tor Sheridan were with me. O Breach of Truſt, unpardonable! We ſat down on a Bench, and each of us drank; but we laughed ſo heartily at cheating the Dean, that he ſtole down, having ſome Suſpicion, that where there was a Wo⯑man, and two Clergymen, there might be a Plot, and ſurpriſed us: I, in Imita⯑tion of his Servant, told him, the Par⯑ſons ſeduced me, and I did drink: Pox choke you all, ſaid he.

In vain did I, with all the moving Eloquence of a female Orator, plead for Pardon: The Key was taken from me, and Mr. Rochford was, before my Face, inveſted with my Honours; and I, Oh fatal Sentence! condemn'd to be Sock-waſher [154] to the blackguard Boy, who wait⯑ed on the under Butler's under Butler.

I would have perſuaded Mr. Rochford to plead in my Behalf, but he was obdu⯑rate as Adamant; eſpecially as by my Diſgrace he roſe. However, not long after, I preſented him with an humble Petition, wherein I failed not to extol the Neatneſs of the Boy's Feet, ſince they came into my Hands, inſomuch

And, as a Reward, I was made In⯑ſpectoreſs-general of all the drinking Veſ⯑ſels; but no more intruſted with the Key of the Cellar: To ſay the Truth, I could not well vindicate my Conduct in that im⯑portant Point.

The Dean had twenty of thoſe agree⯑able Whims, which kept us all chearful, as was his Intent; for I ſuppoſe my Readers will believe, that neither he nor we valued the Ale, but for the Jeſt's ſake.

[155]No Man living told a Story to more Advantage than the Dean; there never was a Word too little or too much in it, it was always apt, full, clear, and conciſe, truly epigrammatick.

It would be well for their Readers, if ſome of our Writers had learn'd this happy Art; but they draw out their Tales to a tireſome Length, dwelling on every trivial Circumſtance, and omitting things of greater Conſequence, and when they would ſeem wiſe, they grow obſcure.

The Dean told me, he did remember that he had not laugh'd above twice in his Life; once at ſome Trick a Moun⯑tebank's Merry-Andrew play'd; and the other time was at the Circumſtance of Tom Thumb's killing the Ghoſt; and, I can aſſure Mr. Fielding, the Dean had a high Opinion of his Wit, which muſt [156] be a Pleaſure to him, as no Man was ever better qualified to judge, poſſeſſing it ſo eminently himſelf.

Yet was he ſo free from any vain Oſ⯑ſtentation of it, that he could ſuit his Converſe to the Talents of his Company; inſomuch that, I believe, had they pro⯑poſed to play Puſh-pin, or talk Non⯑ſenſe, he would have complied even with the latter, if it had been in his Power.

I have known him fill up Rhymes, given after the manner of the French, though he had found it true muſical Rhythm, ſo eſteem'd by the Antients; nay, he could deal in the

Which ſome book-learned Blockheads, for ſuch I have ſeen, with each a Store of Lumber, crude and undigeſted in their Brains, would no doubt have ſcorn'd: But, as Horace obſerves, there is a Sweet⯑neſs in ſometimes mingling Folly with Wiſdom; and I am well convinced no Perſon, without a good Underſtanding, can even play the Fool agreeably.

One Night, that I had the Honour to be in as polite a Set of Company as ever Europe bred, they took a Fancy that each of them would imitate the Voice of a different Animal, either Bird or Beaſt, each having fixed on what ſuited their Inclination; they began the Con⯑ſort at once: Would not any one, who had refuſed to join in the Frolick, have ſeem'd ridiculous? 'Tis true, indeed, this was attended with one mortifying Con⯑ſequence; for the Servants, ſcar'd at the hideous Yelling, and concluding we were all fighting, ran haſtily in to part us; but finding all was right, they left us; however, we heard them laugh heartily at our Entertainment.

As I have often mentioned the Dean's Charity, one ill conferr'd Inſtance of it cannot, I believe, but make my Readers ſmile:

[158]He obſerved a Woman, whoſe whole Eſtate was a Sieve of Fruit, which ſhe had in a Stall, where ſhe ſat footing worn-out Stockings. Seeing the Woman very decent, and always at work, he judged her to be a proper Perſon for him to aſſiſt; eſpecially as, by the Re⯑port of her Neighbours, ſhe was a very honeſt Woman. The Dean aſked her, why ſhe did not try to borrow twenty Pounds, and ſet up a handſome Fruit⯑ſhop. Alas-a-day, Sir, ſaid ſhe, who would truſt a poor Creature like me with ſuch a Sum? Why, ſaid he, if I thought you would improve it, I would lend it you. The Woman promiſed fair, and the Dean lent her the Money; and, at the ſame time, wrote down the parti⯑cular kinds of Fruit he would have her furniſh herſelf with. She was to let him know when ſhe was ſtock'd, and he pro⯑miſed to recommend her to Cuſtomers.

The Woman, overjoy'd at her good Fortune, went about five o'Clock next Morning to a Gardener's, produced her Bill of Fare, on which they, judging by her [159] Appearance ſhe could not pay for ſuch a Cargo, laugh'd at her. This provok'd the Pride of the new-rais'd Beggar; who, to convince them of her Wealth, produced it to their aſtoniſh'd View; upon which they alter'd their Note, and as it was a cold Morning, ſaid, That ‘"Bargains were never made with dry Lips."’ They drew in the poor Woman to drink plen⯑tifully of ^*Hotpot, which ſoon left her ſtupid in the Ale-houſe; but not till they had firſt done her the Favour to rob her.

When ſhe came a little to herſelf, the Woman of the Houſe demanded Pay⯑ment; the Fellows being gone. She was going to pay the Reckoning, but alas! her Money was gone too: It was in vain for her to enquire for it, every-body diſavowed the Fact; but the Gardener, out of his great Charity, gave her a Baſket of Windfalls, with which ſhe was obliged, ſeeing no Remedy, to return to her origi⯑nal Poverty.

The Dean vainly look'd for the Pro⯑duct of his Charity; he could neither [160] ſee Shop, nor Woman, for ſhe kept out of his way; at length he happened in Church to be ſeiz'd with the Cholick, and went out in the middle of Service; and who ſtood at the Church-door, but the very Perſon? He ſtopp'd, and de⯑manded, why he had not heard from her, and how ſhe proceeded? Upon this the Woman flew into a Rage, abuſed him all the Way to his own Houſe, told him, that his curſed Money had bewitch'd her; that all the Neighbours knew ſhe was a modeſt, virtuous, ſober Woman, and that he had made her turn Whore and Drunkard; the Dean ran in, clap'd the the Door upon her, and begged the Protection of his Domeſticks againſt the mad Woman.

And here I muſt obſerve, that as the Dean was very juſtly ſatirical on the Vices of human Kind, yet when he fell on Infirmities, he ſeem'd to have done a diſpleaſing Act to Heaven, inaſmuch as he was puniſhed with them all in a re⯑markable manner; he lived to be a [161] Struldbrugg, helpleſs as a Child, and un⯑able to aſſiſt himſelf.

I ſay not this as any Reflection to his ſacred Memory, Heaven forbid I ſhould; but with all the Reverence I have for the Dean, I really think he ſometimes choſe Subjects unworthy of his Muſe, and which could ſerve for no other End ex⯑cept that of turning the Reader's Sto⯑mach, as it did my Mother's, who, upon reading the Lady's Dreſſing-room, in⯑ſtantly threw up her Dinner.

Here I digreſs, oddly enough, on a whimſical Circumſtance. Having once had the Honour of being known to Lady ******, I took the Liberty of applying to her for a Subſcription; her Neice came out, and miſtaking the Per⯑ſon who brought the Letter for me, ſaid, ‘"Her Lady wondered at my Impu⯑dence, to apply to her, when I knew how I had uſed Sir ******:"’ But if ever I uſed him, or he me, then am I no two-legged Creature; for, to my Knowledge, I never even ſaw him; if the Man did dare to contradict me, I [162] wou'd make him eat a Piece of my Pen: But how uſed him? not unlawfully, I hope. Did your Ladyſhip ever ſee me lewdly lolling on a Love-bed with him? No, if we ever met, he was ſupported by two reverend Prelates, proper Sup⯑porters for a Chriſtian Hero; but I never heard that the Gentleman was addicted to Women; ſo that I hope I may reſt un⯑cenſured by him, and alſo by your L—p.

I do this, Madam, in regard to the Gentleman's Character, for my own is of no Conſequence.

And pray now, Sir C—, for to thee I call, but with no friendly Voice. What time? what Day? what Hour did I ever diſoblige you? the Injuries you have done me, I freely forgive, and

[163] But then take notice you muſt come down handſomely; you are not Lord Kingsborough, nor will my Verſe flow ſpontaneous.

So now, for ever and for ever farewel, Brutus! if we do meet again, why we ſhall laugh, if not, why ſurely we ſhall never weep; a more inſpiring Theme demands my Attention: So, Sir Knight of the Oracle, adieu, if thou dyeſt be⯑fore me, as you ſhould, ſince you ſtept into the World thirty Years e'er my dim Speck of Entity was animated; I have wrote your Epitaph, which I beg you may have engrav'd on your Tomb-ſtone; leſt you ſhould not, I will raiſe you a Monument more laſting than Braſs.

I preſume, by the Information of your Boots, you have read Horace, take your Encomium.

And if my Printer ſhould dare to put a daſh or blank in your illuſtrious Name, I will in Capitals inſert it, and you know,

This, Sir, I give you as a farther Proof of my Impudence, in which I own your Family to have far the Superiority to mine; for though ſome of them did Ex⯑ecution in the well-fought Field, yet none of them were condemn'd to ſuffer one: So read this, and then to Breakfaſt with what Appetite you may.

[165]But after all I have ſaid, I bear you no Ill-will; but you began with me this Tennis-game, and I have match'd my Racquet to the Balls; and, depend on't, whoever begins with me, I bear the Motto of the Thiſtle:

The Hour now came, when the Dean's Promiſe was to be claim'd; as I brought forth a Son, I wrote to him, but he was in the Country, and in five Days the Boy died: The Dean did not return till I was a Fortnight brought to Bed.

He came directly to viſit me: Mr. Pilkington open'd the Door for him, and brought him up to me. After wiſhing me Joy, he aſked, where was his God⯑ſon-elect? I told him in Heaven: The Lord be praiſed, ſaid he, I thought there was ſome good News in the way, your Husband look'd ſo briſk: Pox take me, but I was in Hopes you were dead your⯑ſelf; but 'tis pretty well as it is, I have [166] ſav'd by it, and I ſhould have got no⯑thing by you.

He drank a little Caudle with me, and then went away; about an Hour after his Servant brought me a Letter, and a great Bundle of brown Paper, ſealed with the utmoſt Care, and twiſted round with I know not how many Yards of Pack-thread; my Curioſity led me to read the Letter before I examined the Contents of the Paper, which, to the beſt of my Knowledge, was this:

I now examined the Contents of the Paper, in which I found a Piece of Gin⯑ger-bread, in which were ſtuck four [167] Guineas, wrapt in white Paper, on the Outſide of each was wrote Plumb.

I ſent the Dean a real Piece of Pumb cake, with this Anſwer:

Juſt when he had fix'd Mr. Pilkington to be Chaplain to Alderman Barber, the Dean received from Spain, from one Mr. Wogan, a green Velvet Bag, in which was contained the Adventures of Euge⯑nius; as alſo an Account of the Court⯑ſhip and Marriage of the Chevalier, to the Princeſs Sobieſky, wherein he repre⯑ſents [168] himſelf to have been a principal Ne⯑gotiator. It was wrote in the Novel Stile, but a little heavily: There was alſo ſome of the Pſalms of David, paraphras'd in Miltonick Verſe, and a Letter to the Dean, with Remarks on the Beggar's Opera; in which he ſays he believes the People of England and Ireland had quite loſt all Remains of Elegance and Taſte, ſince their top Entertainments were com⯑poſed of Scenes of Highwaymen, and Proſtitutes, who all remain unpuniſh'd and triumphant in their Crimes: He concluded with paying the Dean the Compliment of intreating him to correct the Work.

The Dean ſaid, he did not care to be troubled with it, and bid Mr. Pilking⯑ton take it to London, and look it over at his Leiſure, which accordingly he did.

He was ſcarce gone, when the Dean came to me for the Bag; I told him my Huſband had; according to his Com⯑mands, taken it with him. He proteſted he never gave him any ſuch Permiſſion; [169] that I was impudent to ſay it, and my Husband more ſo to do it; the Conclu⯑ſion of which was; that he ordered me to write to him to return it immedi⯑ately; and, leaſt I ſhould forget it, he gave me a very good Beating. Well; I writ Mr. Pilkington an Account of the Dean's Wrath, and he ſent me the fatal Bag by a Clergyman: I directly carried it to the Dean, and hoped he would be pleaſed, by my punctual and ready Obedience to his Will; but far otherwiſe it fell out, for the Dean flew into a Paſ⯑ſion, for my daring to preſume to write for it, and gave me another Beating.

But did not this more reſemble the Actions of a Lunatick than of a Gentle⯑man of ſuperior Wit and Knowledge? Indeed, I believe too much Learning had turn'd his Head, or too deep a Search into the Secrets of Nature; as nothing could eſcape his Obſervation. And this wrong Turn in his Brain, I fancy had poſſeſſed him a long time be⯑fore it was taken notice of, as number⯑leſs Proofs might be produced; and even [170] amongſt the Facts that I have related there are ſome ſtrong Inſtances of it; had he been leſs witty, it would ſooner have been taken notice of; but, as the Poet obſerves,

The firſt Proof he gave of his Incivility was affronting the Lord Lieutenant, at the Lord Mayor's Table; who, becauſe he had not paid his Compliments to him in due Form, he very civilly accoſted, by the extraordinary Title of, you, Fellow with the blue String. Some little time after this, he invited two Clergymen to take the Air with him, and when he got them into a Coach, he did ſo belabour them and knock their Heads together, that they were obliged to cry out for Aſſiſtance.

From this he fell into a deep Melan⯑cholly, and knew no body; I was told the laſt ſenſible Words he uttered, were on this Occaſion: Mr. Handel, when [171] about to quit Ireland, went to take his leave of him: The Servant was a con⯑ſiderable Time, e'er he could make the Dean underſtand him; which, when he did, he cry'd ‘"O! A German, and a Genius! A Prodigy! admit him."’ The Servant did ſo, juſt to let Mr. Han⯑del behold the Ruins of the greateſt Wit that ever liv'd along the Tide of Time, where all at length are loſt.

If ought elſe relating to him, ſhould occur to my Remembrance, I will faith⯑fully relate it; as I am certain it cannot but be acceptable to the Public, whoſe Intereſt he had evermore at Heart, and whoſe Liberties on all Occaſions, he warm⯑ly and nobly aſſerted.

'Tis mine, O honoured Shade, to cele⯑brate thy Goodneſs, without extenuating thy Faults; I deal impartially, which is the true Taſk of an Hiſtorian, and I would inſcribe thy Tomb-Stone, were I permitted; but without Characters, Fame lives long. Thine will laſt, while Wit or Genius are admired in this ſublunary Globe.

[172]However diſagreeable it may be to me, I find I muſt proſecute my own Hiſtory, till my leaving London, to which Metro⯑polis I never intend to return, as has been inſinuated, in order to hurt my Subſcrip⯑tion: While ever I can find Means of ſubſiſting in my native Country, where I have received more Favour, than I could reaſonably hope for, I ſhould eſteem my⯑ſelf not only ungrateful, but unjuſt to raiſe Contributions on the Public, and carry the Money from this poor Iſland, to ſpend it in a rich and opulent City.

Beſides my Days of Vanity are over. The Woods, Groves, Fountains, ſacred Receſſes, dear to the Muſes, would be my Choice, even had I a Fortune to entitle me to enjoy the Splendor of a Court in its utmoſt Magnificence. O how I languiſh for Retirement; even as the Heart pant⯑eth after the Water Brooks, ſo longeth my Soul after it; where I might ſit upon ſunleſs Side of ſome Romantic Moun⯑tain, Foreſt crown'd. I wiſh my beſt and deareſt Friend, would take this into Con⯑ſideration, and in ſome Part of his wide [173] extended Domains, afford his Muſe an humble Hermitage.

I ſhould not then be diſtracted with Fears of an imperious Landlord's Threats. No; your happy Tenant would pay her Debt in Weeds, which, when I once told your Lordſhip, you very politely anſwered, that ſuch Verſes as mine were the fineſt Flowers in the Garden of the Muſes.

I muſt here relate to your Lordſhip, a little Circumſtance which happened to me lately. I took a Lodging in Drum⯑condra-lane; the two Ladies, (Siſters) who keep the Houſe, kindly invited me to Dinner; it was very natural for me to enquire what Perſons of Diſtinction lived in our Neighbourhood; they told me Lord Kingsborough had lately purchaſed a Houſe in it, a moſt worthy fine Gen⯑tleman. I happened to expreſs ſo much Pleaſure, at hearing this agreeable piece of News, and at the ſame time ſo warm⯑ly joined in their Sentiments, that one of the Ladies ſaid: Well, Madam, though you have made a Myſtery of your Name, [174] I am certain you are Mrs. Pilkington; I am ſure you are the Perſon; becauſe you ſpeak of his Lordſhip, in the very ſame Stile you have wrote of him. I have the two Volumes.

As I found they were prepoſſeſſed in Mrs. Pilkington's Favour, I confeſs'd they had gueſs'd right. But whenever I want Concealment, if your Lordſhip is men⯑tioned, I will take Care to be ſilent. Otherwiſe I ſhall ſoon betray myſelf, as out of the Abundance of the Heart, the Mouth ſpeaketh. Though I am afraid, that like holy David, it would be Grief, and Pain to me, and while I ſat muſing the Fire would kindle; the Sacred Fire of Friendſhip and Gratitude, would un⯑lock my Tongue and give me Utterance, even though I had been born dumb.

Why, my dear Lord, were but a few Perſons of Diſtinction, in your Way of thinking, Earth itſelf would become a Paradiſe: no more would the ſorrowful Sighing of the Priſoner, nor the Voice of Lamentation be heard in our Streets, and 'tis with infinite Pleaſure, I ſee our long [175] ſtain'd Nobility, who were only fa⯑mous for undoing, and built their Characters on Rapes and Ruin, now al⯑moſt to a Man, not only juſt, but bene⯑ficent; not only learned themſelves, but Encouragers of Science in others. If a⯑mongſt our Country's Worthies, I name you Lord Moleſworth, who have diſtin⯑guiſhed yourſelf in Fields and Senates, in the Seats of the Muſes, and Academic Groves; whoſe well try'd Valour has ap⯑proved itſelf; not in Raſhneſs, but a noble Intrepidity and Scorn of Death, whenever your God, your King, or Coun⯑try, requir'd your Service; I hope it will not offend you, to ſay, may your God, your King, and Country, make you as happy, as my much obliged, and moſt truly grateful Heart ſincerely wiſhes, ſhall ever be my ardent Prayer.

Your Lordſhip has kindly viſited the Virtues of my Father on his Daughter. I am ſure I had no other Claim, to the Fa⯑vours or Honours for which I am indebt⯑ed to your Lordſhip, and for which I reſt your faithful Servant.

[176]At length, through ſtrange Viciſſitudes, and Variety of Misfortunes, finding I could get no Relief from Ireland, I de⯑termined, with my Son, to reviſit it; and though late in Life, try my Fortune in Hibernia. But how to compaſs a Journey and a Voyage without Money, was really a difficult Taſk; to this End I ſet my Wits to Work, to find out whether any Perſons of my own Country were in Lon⯑don, from whom, by revealing my Diſ⯑treſs, I could hope for Relief. At length I learned, that Dr. Delany was there, who never rejected the Petition of the af⯑flicted, even though they had no other Merit to recommend them, but that of Anguiſh. My Suit was granted in the moſt compaſſionate and obliging Manner; accompanied by his Tears for my Mis⯑fortunes, and Prayers for the Preſerva⯑tion of my Soul and Body. And ſure the Oraiſons of one ſo good, muſt have uncommon Efficacy in them, to turn the Sinner, and confirm the Juſt in well-doing, while his own Example ſtrengthens all his Precepts.

[177]How different was the Reception I met with, at the Hands of this worthy Man, from the rough Return made to my Sollicitations, for a Subſcription from Lady ****; who, ‘"wondered at my Impudence in applying to her."’

Ladies, let me entreat you will drop that naſty paw Word impudent, at leaſt don't annex it to my Name, who never yet had the Aſſurance to appear in any publick Place, ſince I came laſt to this Kingdom; nor ever to apply in Perſon for a Favour. But a Woman who has ſuffered in Reputation, knows not what to do; 'tis all Impudence, though her Betters have more; for that in the Cap⯑tain is but a Choleric Word, which in the Soldier is flat Blaſphemy.

Upon my Word, if inſtead of the Im⯑pudence I am charged with; you would call me a deſolate afflicted Wretch, you would ſpeak the Truth; for poor Laetitia is become the Foot-ball of Fortune; but why ſhould I complain? when the Son of Man ſays, that the Foxes had Holes, and he himſelf had no Place to lay his Head [178] in! Anſwer me ſome of ye great, learned, and pious Divines; why is our Bleſſed Redeemer ſtiled the Son of Man? When we are told, that a Virgin ſhould conceive; that the Power of the higheſt ſhould over-ſhadow her! How was he then the Son of Man? We are all order⯑ed to apply to our Heavenly Father, and therefore may ſtile ourſelves the Children of God; why then is there any Excep⯑tion made in this Caſe?

I hardly dare allow myſelf the Liberty of thinking, leſt I ſhould do it too deep⯑ly, and Reaſon be my Diſeaſe; and yet I believe it was given me to follow and ſearch after Truth; where then ſhall I find it? not on Earth, no more than Peace or Juſtice, who are long fled from theſe lower Regions. Boldly then let me purſue them, even to the high Place, from whence they ſprung; the Seat of Calms and Eaſe, the Manſions of the Bleſt, where holy Hope and conſtant Faith, ſhall be loſt in Fruition of that Happineſs, which hath not yet entered into the Heart of Man to conceive.

[179]Mr. Woolaſton's Religion of Nature delineated, ſhews us powerfully, how much a Lye muſt offend the Creator; as I am tax'd with numerous Quotations, which are tedious (as ſome of my Readers tell me) I ſhall not borrow one from him, but refer the Learned to his inimitable Work; though I am perſuaded, no Per⯑ſon who has not a clear Head, can taſte his Beauties: And truly, I have paid myſelf no ſmall Compliment here; but, as it is written, e'en let it paſs.

And here, Mr. Blake ^* permit me to tell you, though no Perſon can more re⯑vere your every amiable Quality than I do, yet as the Objection you ſtarted to my Philoſophic Doctrine, of the Ocean's having no Bottom, has deprived me of Reſt ever ſince, I could find in my Heart to be angry with you; You aſked me then, how I could account for Iſlands, which muſt have a Foundation? I am not ſure of that, perhaps they float like Delos. 'Tis demonſtrable that wherever we dig [180] deep, we find Water, not Salt indeed like that of the Sea; but may it not be Purified by running through the Veins of the Earth, and ariſe to us in freſh Foun⯑tains, mineral Streams, or milky Currents, ſuch as Mallow affords. Our Foundation we know is on the Waves, our Build⯑ing on the Great Deep: This was ſo at the firſt Creation; then, when the Windows of Heaven were opened, and the deep Abyſs or Receptacle of Waters broke up; what had we but the Ruins of a World to inhabit, the Fragments of which may ſwim; at leaſt, moſt worthy Sir, I can find no better Solution, for the Doubt you rais'd in my Mind, pray con⯑ſider the Queſtion yourſelf; and if your Learning, which I own is extenſive, be adequate to your Virtue, you are better qualified to give me an Anſwer, than moſt Men living.—Now do I know I give your Modeſty Pain, but amongſt other Inſtances of my Impudence, I could not forbear this.

And had I never honoured you, for your own Goodneſs, yet your Anſwer [181] when I aſked you, did you love Lord Kingsborough? ‘"Who knows him, but muſt love him."’! would have com⯑manded my Reſpect and beſt Wiſhes, and they both ſincerely attend you. And here, my polite Roman! ^* my Friend, beloved by all, but the malici⯑ous and unworthy, who perſecute you for no other Cauſe, but that you excel in Courage, and Learning; accept of my Thanks, for the many fine Encomiums you have beſtowed on me; think of me as one incapable of purſuing the Advice you gave me, of forſaking a Friend in the Hour of Calamity. Sure 'tis then our Duty, to adminiſter Conſolation, as far as our Power extends; the Fortunate want it not: Your Magnanimity of Soul bears up againſt the Storms of Fortune, and

[182] But, ſays my Reader, what have I to ſay to your Philoſophy, or particular Attach⯑ments? proceed in your Story; inform us how you got to Ireland? Well, now you have reminded me of it, I think I will. To confeſs the Truth, I had like to have forgotten myſelf; my Thoughts are apt to wander through Eternity, and

After receiving the worthy Doctor Dela⯑ny's Bounty, which was ſufficient to pay every Debt I ow'd in London; which, as I was cautious in contracting any, a Sum, though leſs, would have paid. But I had not a Sufficiency to anſwer the Expence of travelling Charges, for two Perſons. The Parliament was diſſolved, the Nobi⯑lity gone to enjoy the Sweets of Spring, April having deck'd all Things in freſh and fragrant Bloom; all, but wretched Humankind, from whom, whence part⯑ed, it no more returns, to bluſh or beau⯑tify [183] the Cheek again. But let us not Sor⯑row after that, as thoſe who have no Hope beyond this Life; if we can go unſtain'd through this World, which 'tis almoſt impoſſible to do, or ſeeing the Er⯑rors of our Ways, forſake them; we have Aſſurance given us, of a joyful and tri⯑umphant Reſurrection.

I wrote, in order to gain Relief, to a Prelate of Ireland, then reſident in Lon⯑don; [184] I ſent the Letter by the Daughter of a diſſenting Clergyman, of whoſe Ho⯑nour and Virtue I was confident. He re⯑ceived her civilly, read over my Letter, and declared he did not know me; but as he had ſome ſlight Knowledge of my Fa⯑mily, there was a Guinea for me. This anſwered no End: But yet he gave me ſome Comfort, by bidding her call again, and he would think of ſomething for my Service: Accordingly, in a Week's Time ſhe went again, and again; till at length his Lordſhip vouchſafed to ſend out a very rough Anſwer, not in the leaſt befitting his Function or Dignity, eſpe⯑cially to one whom he knew from her Infancy, to be a Woman of good Birth, and Education.

But I reſolving to be as chuffy as he, ſent him in reality another Epiſtle, not over-courteous I own; yet it wrought a better Effect, than my complaining one produced, for his Gentleman came to me early next Morning, with a very civil Letter; and produced ten Guineas, to my unſpeakable Joy; but there was a Draw⯑back [185] on my Happineſs, for I was obli⯑ged to return ten Shillings Change, which I very reluctantly complied with.

With this Sum my Son and I quitted London, and being on the ſaving Scheme, took Places in the Waggon. A moſt tire⯑ſome Way of travelling! May Morning we ſet forth, our Slow-pac'd Cattle were adorned with Ribbands and Flowers, and till then, I never underſtood the meaning of the vulgar Expreſſion, of being as fine as a Horſe, for it ſeems it is cuſtomary on this Month, to preſent the Waggoners with a Ribband, at every Inn; till our Flea-bitten Nags, were almoſt blind⯑ed by the tawdry party-coloured flow⯑ing Honours of their Heads. I was really almoſt fatigued to Death, for I was called up at three o'Clock in the Morn⯑ing, though perhaps you don't ſet out till five. Tea or Coffee, none to be had, unleſs in ſome of the Towns: Indeed, if I could, like our Driver, have eat a Breakfaſt of Salt Beef and Cabbage at that ſqueamiſh Hour, it was laid there ready. They bait not all Day; ſo one [186] might have an Appetite by Evening, but it happened not ſo to me. The Heat and Duſt quite depriv'd me of any Inclina⯑tion to Food, and eſpecially to the rough Fare provided.

My chief Delight was liſtening to the Nightingale, who then warbled forth her love-laboured Song, to indulge the Pleaſure of hearing the ſoft Warbler, pour forth her plaintive and harmonious Lay: I uſed when we were near our reſting Place, to alight and walk through the flower-enamell'd Meads, filled with Cowſlips, Primroſes, and wild Violets, for

My Son and I found out a ſweet Place, canopy'd with Wood-bine, which had enringed itſelf in Plats about a large Ap⯑ple Tree, whoſe Bloſſoms ſhed Perfumes, while the whole Seaſon warbled round our [187] Heads; we ſeated ourſelves under the wide ſpreading Shade, liſtening with De⯑light to thoſe wild Muſicians. Suddenly the Boy cry'd out, O Mamma what ſhall I do? What is the Matter, Child? Look at my Leg: I did ſo, and behold a Snake had twiſted up it; I, though heartily ſtartled, had Preſence of Mind ſufficient, to beg he would not ſtrike it; he took my Advice, though indeed both he and I were ready to faint, and the evil Worm crawled away, without doing him any Prejudice. But not being well aſſured that all the Serpent Race, ſworn Foe to Man, might be ſo complaiſant, I was never after tempted to ſit down in Albion's fruitful Fields.

We lodged this Night at a ſtrange old Village, whoſe Name I have forgot; I believe the Inn had formerly been a Con⯑vent, by the numerous little Cells and Cloyſters, ſmall Windows, almoſt dar⯑kened with Jeſſamine and Vines; it had a moſt romantic melancholy Air, fit for ſtudious Contemplation, but not reple⯑niſhed with rich Repaſt, or chearful [188] Wine. The next Day being Sunday, a Day of Reſt, we took up our Quarters at another Inn, where we got a Chicken and a Pint of Wine, and lived ſumptu⯑ouſly.

We then walk'd out to ſee what kind of Curioſity this Place afforded, worth Remark; but finding none, we ſtrayed out on a Common, when the firſt Object which ſtruck my Sight, was that of a Man ſuſpended high in the Air, hanging in Chains on a Gibbet; ſhocking as it was, it engaged my Attention; I concluded he muſt have been a moſt undutiful Son, when the Birds of Prey had devoured him, and the Ravens picked out his Eyes. Suddenly I was ſurprized with the Voice of a Man, who cried, O my dear Coſhen Paddy, I wiſh thoſe who put you there for noting, were there themſelves. I look⯑ed about, and ſaw fifteen or twenty Men and Women lying in a dry Ditch; I would have fled, but conſidering that might not be ſafe, I rather choſe to walk at an eaſy Pace: One of the Fellows made up to us, and aſked where we were [189] going; I told him to our Country, Ire⯑land. Arah, ſaid he, are you a Catolic? I ſaid I was! Upon I which he ſaid, Faith poor Paddy Lawler, who hangs there was a good one. And what, Sir, brought him to ſo unfortunate an End? Why, ſaid he, he was in Love with a proud ſcornful Huſſey, and ſhe ſlighted him, ſo he met her in this Plaiſh, and becauſe ſhe would not accept of his Shivility, he lent her a Nock on the Head, and ſo he got his Will of her. She died the next Day, after ſhe had given Information againſt him; to be ſure her Skull was broke, but he did not deſhine that.

While he was telling me this Story, I trembled, but made the beſt Speed I could to the Village, being infinitely more frightened at him, than I had been at the Snake. He accompanied us there, for which I return⯑ed him Thanks; how ſincerely my Readers may judge. But I made a Virtue of Ne⯑ceſſity, and gave him fair Words. Now ſaid he, are not all theſe Heretics damn'd Rogues? Ay, ſaid I, and I hope our [190] true King will put all Villains to Death. Arrah, give me your Fiſt for that; I was obliged to comply. When I got to the Inn I told him, I ſhould be glad of his Company, but that I had a jealous Huſ⯑band, who would certainly kill me, if he found any Man in my Company. Damn the Rogue, ſaid he, if I was as you, I would make him a Cuckold in a crack. I deſired he would pleaſe to accept of a Pot of Drink, which he did, and making a Leg, walk'd off leaving us unmoleſt⯑ed, and I bleſt God I had purchaſed Life at ſo cheap a Rate.

That ſoft Anſwers turn away Wrath, is moſt aſſured; for I remember ſome Years ago, when the Cavan Rabble were up in Arms, my Mother, Siſter, and I, went to pay a Viſit at Rathfarnam, to the Lady of our excellent ^*Recorder. On our return home, we were ſurrounded by a Pack of theſe Wretches, who ordered my Father's Coachman to pull off his Hat to them, which he refuſing, and they be⯑ing [191] all armed with ſhort thick Oak Tree Clubs, they ſwore we ſhould not ride in a Coach, and they walk; my Mother, with ſurprizing Preſence of Mind, ſaid Gentlemen, you are very welcome to the Coach, my Daughter and I will walk, to oblige you with it; which, Villains, Ruf⯑fians, and Murtherers as they were, they would not permit, but only deſired we might Huzza for them, this notwith⯑ſtanding our Terror, we chearfully did; and my Mother ſaid, Gentlemen per⯑haps you are dry, and gave them a Crown, with which they were ſo well pleaſed, that they huzza'd for us, offering to guard us ſafe to Town; but ſhe alledging that would be too much trouble, they left us with a kind Aſſurance, that they would drink our Healths, and fight for us any Time we ſtood in need of their Pro⯑tection.

Nothing material happened to us till we got to Cheſter; we took a Survey of the Cathedral Church, which had nothing like Beauty to recommend it, any more [192] than the old black Walls which environ Part of the City.

Next Day we ſet out for Parkgate, which was crowded with Nobility and Gentry, waiting for a fair Wind; here we were ſo long detained, that my Purſe was quite exhauſted, even my laſt Shilling gone; this was a ſad Situation, we were fixed to a Point without any Power of Moving one way or another, wanting the neceſſary Agent Money. There was but one Way left, which was even to apply to Lady Kildare, who was there; but being aſhamed to do it in my Name, I e'en did it in my Son's, who waited on her Ladyſhip with it, met a favourable Reception, and brought home a Guinea. The Wind ſprung up fair and we embar⯑ked on board the Race Horſe. As I am always deadly Sick at Sea, I choſe to keep on Deck, as long as I poſſibly could. My Son being well inured to the wat'ry Ele⯑ment, ſkipped about, and ſung Marine Songs. Moſt of the Paſſengers went to their Cabbins, when Mr. Hudſon, the Clergyman, ſeeing my Boy ſpeak to me, [193] aſked me, was not that young Lad's Name Pilkington? I ſaid Yes! I thought ſo ſaid he, for he is very like Mr. Pilking⯑ton the Clergyman; he has ſome Cauſe to be ſo, Sir, for he is his Son. How can you anſwer for that, Madam? Why in⯑deed, Sir, I have ſome Cauſe of Knowledge of it, for I am that worthy Divine's Wife, and the Boy's Mother. The Gentleman confeſſed the Force of my Plea, and ex⯑preſſed great Compaſſion for us both; and I do verily believe, had he known our Circumſtances, he would have added Re⯑lief to Pity.

He ſeemed to be a learned and worthy Gentleman, which I had the better Op⯑portunity of diſcovering, as he, my Son, myſelf, and a Gentleman whom I did not know, ſat all Night in Lady Kildare's Coach, which was laſh'd upon Deck. We there were becalm'd, and amongſt other things, Mr. Hudſon ſaid, that had he ever been ſo unfortunate to take a common Woman, and ſhe had brought forth a Son ſo like him, as mine was to [194] my Huſband, he would at leaſt have con⯑cluded that to be his own.

Upon which I related to him a true Story. A Servant Maid who had lived with Mr. Pilkington in Ireland, enquired of the Perſons who kept the next Houſe, who were the new Lodgers they had got; the Name made her but more inquiſitive, and ſhe begg'd I would permit her to ſee me, but as I had met with many a Trick in Life, I bid my Son and Daughter ſit behind the Bed Curtain, and then deſir'd her to come up; I aſked her, did ſhe know me; ſhe ſaid no indeed! but ſhe had lived with one Mr. Pilkington in Ireland, who had turn'd his Wife out of Doors; and that he lived on Lazer's Hill. And what ſaid I were the Names of the Chil⯑dren? Why, returned ſhe, there was Maſter Billy, Miſs Betty, and Maſter Jack! And how came you to leave him? Why, indeed he was beating Miſs and Maſter ſadly, and I aſked him why he did it? he ſaid becauſe they were none of his! [195] Oh, Sir, ſaid I, ſure Maſter Jack is yours, for he is your own Picture. Ay, ſaid he, the Mother was thinking of me when he was got. In troth, Sir, ſaid ſhe, I don't doubt that, for I believe you were the neareſt Perſon to her; for which Offence, ſhe was directly diſmiſſed: And could he have found Matter againſt her Life, he would have proſecuted her.

The Children knew her, and whatever little Favours ſhe had by Stealth done for them in my Exile, I did my utmoſt to re⯑turn to her. A Benefit is ſeldom loſt.

At length the Day broke and diſ⯑covered us my native Earth; I hail'd the Mother Land which gave me Birth, but knowing how little Money I had, did not chuſe to Land at Dunlary, which muſt be attended with more Expence, than I had any Poſſibility of anſwering: The other Paſſengers all went aſhore; 'twas about three o'Clock, and my Boy and I waited in the Ship, not doubting but we ſhould be ſoon at Ringſend; but it happened [196] otherwiſe, for we were becalm'd; we once more took our Seats in the Coach, and found there the Hammer Cloth, in which I wrapt myſelf, and fell faſt aſleep. In the Night I was awaked by the terrible Curſes of the Captain of the Ship, who ſwore dreadfully we ſhould be that Mo⯑ment loſt. I dropt the Glaſs, and aſked him what was the Matter; he ſaid he had fallen aſleep, and truſted the Ship to one who had directly thrown us on the North Bull. And are we then to be loſt? I ſee no Remedy, we ſhall ſtrike in a Minut [...] I pulled my Son, who laughed at my Fears, which really were very great. The Ship ſtruck upon a Sand-Bank, with ſuch Force, that it rebounded on another, and beat it almoſt to Pieces. However, the Morn aroſe, that gilded all the flowery Plains, and preſented to our View a moſt agreeable Proſpect, both of Land and Water; the Tide left our Ship on the Strand, ſo that without Expence or Dif⯑ficulty, we walked to Ringſend.

Here we took a little decent Lodging, till I could be able to remove to Dublin; [197] and I immediately diſpatched my Son, with a Letter to a Nobleman, whom I had formerly ſeen at my Father's; who obligingly ſent me a Guinea: This en⯑abled me to diſmiſs my Lodging; my Son brought me a Coach, in which we put our Portmanteau, and remov'd to an Apartment he had taken for me at a ſmall Rent in Aungier-ſtreet.

Well, Reader, I have now brought you with me to Hibernia; where you will ſuppoſe the Daughter of a Gentleman ſo univerſally eſteemed, as Doctor Van Lewin, would, after ſo long an Exile, have ſure⯑ly found ſome Friends.

I wrote a very mannerly Epiſtle to my beloved Spouſe, in which I ſlightly men⯑tioned his mercileſs Treatment of me, and his poor Children; and told him, that if he would pay me the Sixty five Pounds, for which I had his Bond in Counſellor Smith's Hands, I would not only forego the Intereſt, which amounted to a conſiderable Sum, but alſo immedi⯑ately leave the Kingdom; provided alſo, he would give me Aſſurance, that he [198] would take Care of his youngeſt Son. I leave every Perſon of Candour, to judge whether or not this was a fair Propoſal: And I moſt ſolemnly proteſt to Almighty God, that I had no other intention, as there was not at that Time, above forty Pages of my Firſt Volume wrote; how⯑ever he ſcorned to ſend me an Anſwer of any kind. Well, I wrote again, yet ſtill his Reverence was ſilent as the Grave.

This I confeſs a little incenſed me; and firſt determined me in the Deſign, of publickly vindicating my Innocence, and laying open, for univerſal Benefit, his unparallel'd Character; in which, if I have err'd, 'tis through Tenderneſs, as his Actions,

I wrote to Counſellor Smith, and told him how Mr. Pilkington had treated me, [199] and withal informed him, that if he had too much Lenity to ſue him for my law⯑ful Right, I inſiſted on his delivering me the Bond, that I might put it in Force, for the Relief of myſelf and my Child.

The Counſellor was at a Loſs how to act in ſo critical a Point. He knew Mr. Pilkington's Talent, of traducing every Perſon, who did not act in Compliance to his Inclination; and, on the other Hand, Juſtice compell'd him to think I had a Right to be paid, what had ſo long and ſo unlawfully been withheld from me; and by which I was drove to ſuch Extremi⯑ties in London.

He therefore wrote to him, and I ſup⯑poſe acquainted him, how much it was out of his Power, as an honeſt Man, to defend him from the Conſequences of that Bond. Mr. Pilkington finding all his Policy of no Effect in this particular Af⯑fair, condeſcended to honour the Coun⯑ſellor with a moſt ſtupid Epiſtle, in which he inſinuated, ‘"that his Motive for giv⯑ing that Bond, was in order to make me live virtuouſly for the future, which [200] he could ſufficiently prove I had not done."’ [Produce your Evidence Mr. Parſon.] ‘"That if he was allow'd only ſuch Time to pay it, as his Circum⯑ſtances would not allow, he would try what Remedy he could obtain from a Court of Equity, when a full State of the Caſe was laid before them."’ Theſe are pretty near the Words; I wiſh you had my dear Spouſe, as it muſt have gi⯑ven Pleaſure to any Court, to ſee you look CONSCIENCE in the Face.

But not to be tedious, after much Trou⯑ble and Vexation of Spirit, I procured from him twenty Pounds at one Payment, with which I took a little rural Habitation near Bow-Bridge.

I wrote a Letter to my dear old Friend, Mr. Cibber, and told him, that however improbable it might ſeem to him, I had actually Twenty Pounds in my Pocket; and added, that I had

[201] and wanted nothing, but the Delights of his Converſation, to make my Situation com⯑pleatly agreeable. I believe Mr. Cibber had not till then heard of my Expedition, ſo that my Letter muſt have ſurpriz'd him. By the return of the Poſt, I re⯑ceived from his dear Hand the following humorous Epiſtle.

[205]I communicated this Letter to Lord Chief Baron Bowes, the Hon. Arthur Hill, Eſq and ſeveral Perſons of Taſte, who were infinitely delighted with it, as they were with many others, which I had from Mr. Cibber, and which would con⯑ſiderably have embeliſhed my Work, had I not the Misfortune to loſe them, by lending them to a Man of Diſtinction, who by ſome Accident miſlaid them; ſo I muſt e'en entertain you, with the neat Product of my own Brain.

Mr. Victor, whom I have mentioned in my Second Volume, and who is now Treaſurer of the Theatre Royal in Smock-Alley, came to viſit me ſeveral Times, and frequently favoured us with an Order to ſee the Play, as we were upon a very friendly and familiar Footing. My Son uſed, when he had an Inclination, to call on my Friend for a Paſs; one Night he ſent once or twice for that Purpoſe, when the Gentleman was abroad? What does the giddy Creature do, but aukwardly counterfeits his Hand in an Order for two. He told me of it, and ſaid he was [206] ſure Mr. Victor would not deny it, when he was informed who had taken that Free⯑dom with his Name: I laugh'd at the Reflection of the Jeſt, when it came to be known, as Mr. Victor had had the Boy in his Arms when an Infant. Ac⯑cordingly we took a Coach, went to the Play, and the Forgery ſeem'd to paſs ex⯑tremely well. The firſt Act was ſcarce begun, when a Perſon entered, and as the Houſe was thin of Company, tapt my Son on the Shoulder. I did not apprehend the Cauſe of it, but began to grow uneaſy when I found him ſtay a full Hour; at length he returned, and informed me, that he had been, at the Inſtigation of Mr. Sh—n, arreſted by two Conſtables, from whom he was only delivered by the Sollicitations of Mr. Victor. This greatly aſtoniſhed me, as I thought Mr. Sh—n ought to have had a little more Reſpect for the Son of a Clergyman, eſpecially as he was well convinced, that as I knew his Father, (whom the Dean entertained more as a Buffoon, than a Friend or Com⯑panion) and his Mother, I had a Power [207] of furniſhing the World with ſome Anec⯑dotes, which were hitherto unrevealed; but the Scheme of letting my Son eſcape was not any Lenity in him, but a Bait to catch me going out, whom they imagined they ſhould diſcover by the Boy; but it happened that a Gentleman handed me me out, by which this generous Intent was fruſtrated.

His little deformed Brother had the Aſſurance to tell my Son ſome Nights after, that Mr. S—n would eſteem any Satire I wrote on him a Panegyrick; which when I heard, in order to oblige him with a Compliment to his Taſte, I inclos'd to Mr. Victor the following Lines, to be forwarded to his Mightineſs.

This, Sir, I moſt humbly beg your Ac⯑ceptance of, as 'tis indeed the only thing which I could without Diſſimulation ſay of you.

I was told, that this worthy Gentleman, in a Letter to the inimitable Mr. Garrick, ſaid, ‘"We ſhine like Caſtor and Pollux, [210] you adorn Great Britain, while I illu⯑minate Hibernia."’ Nothing ſure, but his matchleſs Ignorance, could have drawn ſo diſproportionate a Parrallel. I remem⯑ber the firſt time I had the Pleaſure of ſeeing Mr. Garrick perform, it was the Character of King Lear; I was in one of the Boxes, and when he came to the mad Scene, I was ſo much affected at it, that I got up inſenſibly, and was going out, till I was wak'd, like one from a Trance, by the Lady who accompanied me, pull⯑ing me by the Sleeve, and demanding where I was going? and to ſay the Truth,

I am certain no Perſon was ever capable of making the Audience feel a Part, which they did not ſincerely do themſelves; and I'm convinced, Mr. Garrick never play'd a Part, wherein he did not, through the whole Performance, believe himſelf the Man; whereas Pollux, as Sh—n [211] modeſtly ſtiles himſelf, is no other than Tom Sh—n, though he change Dreſs and Perriwig twenty Times a Night; he is indeed, Semper Eadem, worſe and worſe, as my Countryman has it.

This brings to my Memory, a Story of a very eminent Player, who was to perform the Part of Hannibal. A Nobleman behind the Scenes, took the Liberty to give a Twitch to one Tye of his Peruke. The enraged Hero turned on his Heel, and with his martial Trun⯑cheon, ſmote the Peer over the Cheek.

But when he came off the Stage, my Lord told him, he believed he thought himſelf really Hannibal, when he could give with Impunity, ſuch an Indignity, to a Man of his Conſequence. My Lord, ſaid the Player, if I did not think myſelf Hannibal, I ſhould never be able to make [212] the Audience do ſo.—So much for Theatrical Affairs.

I now began ſeriouſly to reſolve on Publiſhing my Writings, and to that End had Propoſals printed. Perſons were at firſt a little timorous, leſt I ſhould print a Liſt of Subſcribers, and by that Means they might unwittingly give Of⯑fence; but when I declared no Names ſhould be inſerted, I had a numerous Contribution, from all the Nobility, Cler⯑gy, and Gentry; amongſt whom, when I name our excellent Lord Chancellor, in whom Titles and Honours had made no Alteration, but that of increaſing his Politeneſs, Munificence, and Liberali⯑ty, to every Individual; our Patriot Speaker; and worthy Recorder Eaton Stannard Eſq I believe no Perſon of Diſtinction, will bluſh to have their Names mentioned.

Well, at length my firſt Volume was finiſhed, and I wrote a bantering Letter to Sir J—n F—ke, to whom I have the Diſhonour to be allied, to tell him, that I intended to dedicate it to him, [213] Nemine Con. He, whoſe Mind is truly pictured in his ill-favoured Face, told my Son, that for himſelf, every Body would take it as a thing done to make him ridi⯑culous, ſince he had not any Accompliſh⯑ments, that might merit an Encomium, which indeed was true, except 'tis his matchleſs Impudence, in keeping Poſ⯑ſeſſion of an Eſtate, which his own Mo⯑ther, the Lady —, told him he had no more Right to, than to the Dukedom of Burgundy.

When his ſuppoſed Father, Sir B—ph F—ke died, this young Spark was an Enſign in the Army, and ſtepping at once into Affluence, he being naturally of a covetous Diſpoſition, refuſed to pay his Mother the Jointure which ſhe claim'd, and was going to commence a Suit with her; when one Morning ſhe called on him and ſaid, Hark ye, Sir John, do you re⯑ſolve to go to Law with me for what's my Right? He begg'd to be excuſed, but told her, Self-Preſervation was the firſt Law of Nature; ſo it is Sir, ſaid ſhe, call⯑ing him by his real Father's Name; then [214] you are no longer Sir J—n F—ke which I will go inſtantly and make pub⯑lick.

He fell dutifully on his Knees, entreat⯑ed her Pardon for his Diſobedience, and promis'd for the future to pay all proper Reſignation to her ſuperior Underſtand⯑ing.—This, Sir John, you and many others know to be Fact.

He pointed out to me, as a ſubject for everlaſting Praiſe, my beloved Lord Kingsborough, then Sir Robert King, and though I had not the Felicity I have ſince experienced of a perſonal Acquain⯑tance with him, yet the Character pleaſed me, and accordingly I wrote a trifling Dedication, far inferior to his Merit, which notwithſtanding he kindly accepted, and ſent me the following Letter:

I accordingly ſent my Son, who re⯑turned with a Letter, in which were in⯑cloſed two Notes for ten Pounds each, The Letter was only this;

An obliging and eaſy manner of con⯑ferring the higheſt Favours, is what few ev'n amongſt the moſt Polite have been able to arrive at, a Perfection which alone is given to adorn a Marlborough or a Kingsborough.

[216]But alas, how vain, how fleeting were all the Joys I ever propoſed to myſelf. This Nobleman, in whoſe Eſteem I ima⯑gined myſelf to be ſo deeply riveted, that not Fortune, Time, or Fate, could ever diſplace me, was, as I have ſince learn⯑ed, by the Inſinuations of one Clancy, an old blind Beggar, whoſe Wants I had often ſupplied, both in London and Dublin, perſuaded to believe, that I had ſpoken diſreſpectfully of his Lordſhip; and that my Son ſaid he would print his Letters, and ſell them for Halſpence a-piece; all which was moſt notoriouſly falſe: However, it had ſuch an Effect, that his Lordſhip came to me, and giving me ten Guineas in a ſort of com⯑manding Tone, deſired me to give him his Letters; I burſt into Tears, and told him, I would reſign them, (or even any thing, if poſſibly dearer) to his Pleaſure. I went to my Drawer, took as many as I could find, and delivered them as I would,

[217]He took them abruptly, and depart⯑ing, told me he would ſend in the Morning for the Remainder of them; he left me in a Condition which I am utterly incapable of deſcribing. A Cir⯑cumſtance ſo unlook'd for, ſunk me into a Train of the moſt gloomy Reflections, which might have been attended with fatal Conſequences, had not the Entrance of ſome agreeable Company diſſipated my preſent Reflections.

The next Morning before I was up a Chairman came and knock'd at the the Door; the Servant aſked who he wanted: He ſaid he came from Lord Kingsborough, and muſt ſee Mrs. Pil⯑kington herſelf; he told him I was not up; but he ſwore and ſtormed, ſaying he would not leave the Place till he had his Lord's Letters from me. I happened to overhear him, and deſired the Maid to tell the Chairman, I would ſend to his Lordſhip preſently; I accord⯑ing aroſe, and piqued at the Uſage I had received from the Fellow, I muſt confeſs with Shame, I wrote a little [218] warmly on the Subject to my Lord, and without allowing myſelf time for Thought diſpatched it off.

The fatal Epiſtle had ſcarce left my Hand, e'er my Heart was agitated with the moſt ſenſible Remorſe. I in vain diſpatched a Meſſenger after the firſt,

It reach'd his Hands, and he only ſent for Anſwer, "'Tis very well:"

I believe the judicious Part of my Readers, muſt have apprehended that the Sin of Ingratitude is not amongſt the Number of mine, ſince I have endeavour⯑ed through my Work, if poſſible, to make the contrary conſpicuous, by ren⯑dering [219] due Praiſe to all my Benefactors. Yet what could my beloved Lord ima⯑gine, but that he had beſtow'd all his Fa⯑vours on an unworthy Perſon?

I did not believe that after all the An⯑guiſh of Mind I had ſuſtained through my Life, any thing could move my Phi⯑loſophy, (which had made me determine never to be overjoyed or ſurprized, at any Advancement in Life, nor deject⯑ed or caſt down at any Adverſity on this Side Futurity) ſo much as this.

Downy Repoſe was a Stranger to my Pillow, and I fell a Prey to the greateſt Languor and Heavineſs of Soul. How⯑ever as I knew his Lordſhip was filled with the Milk of human Pity, I ima⯑gined, by apologizing for the raſh Act, I ſhould be bleſt with his forgiveneſs, and a Renewal of his Friendſhip to me, to which End I wrote the following Lines:

His Lordſhip ſent me the following Anſwer, which only added more Weight to my oppreſſed Soul.

I concluded from this Letter, that I had loſt all the Share in his Eſteem, that I once flattered myſelf I was poſſeſſed of; which ſhews the Inſtability of human Af⯑fairs.

And here, gentle Reader, my Story and my Life draw to a Period. I am con⯑vinced, from the preſent Situation of my Health, that I ſhall never live to ſee this Volume publiſhed. It is the only Legacy I have to leave my poor Boy, who, I fear, [223] will meet with many Enemies, on ac⯑count of my Writings, when it will be out of my Power to protect him. But Oh! ye Good and Great, to you and the Almighty I commend him; and hope that Tenderneſs which melted you to com⯑paſſionate my Woes, will incline you to aſſiſt him. Believe me, my dear Lord Kingſborough, no Creature living holds your Lordſhip in higher Eſteem than he; and, as you told me in one of your Letters, your Inclinations were, and En⯑deavours ſhould be, to ſerve him, let not the Memory of my Offence prevent your keeping that Promiſe ſacred.