MEMOIRS OF Mrs. PILKINGTON.

ALTHO' it has been the com⯑mon Practice, with Writers of Memoirs, to fill their Volumes with their own Praiſes, which, whatever Pleaſure they may have afforded to the Authors, by indulging their Vanity, are ſeldom found to give any to the Readers; I am determined to quit this beaten Track; and by a ſtrict Adherence to Truth, pleaſe even my greateſt Enemies, by preſenting them with a lively Picture of all my Faults, [2] my Follies, and the Misfortunes, which have been conſequential to them.

And I am the more inclined to proceed, in that I think the Story may be inſtruc⯑tive to the Female Part of my Readers, to teach them that Reputation

So that I propoſe myſelf, not as an Ex⯑ample, but a Warning to them; that by my Fall, they may ſtand the more ſecure.

However numerous my Miſtakes in Life have been, they have ſtill had moſt ſurprizing Additions made to them, not only by baſe and unworthy Minds, Wretches devoid of Truth and common Honeſty, but alſo by Perſons of high Rank, and ſuch as outwardly profeſs Chriſtianity; who have fancied it an Act of Piety to be⯑lieve and ſpread of me the moſt impro⯑bable and notorious Falſhoods! nay, ſo far has their perſecuting Zeal been carried, that they have rendered my honeſt Induſtry in⯑effectual; [3] and by depriving me of any Means to ſupport Life, endeavoured to make me even ſuch a one, as they repre⯑ſented me to be: That Clergymen, and Ladies of Honour, ſhould unite, in driving to Extremity, a Perſon, who never yet, either in her Converſation, or Writing, of⯑fended againſt the Laws of Decency or Hu⯑manity, is but too apt to make one think, they had quite forgotten the Chriſtian Grace, Charity, without which we are told, all other Virtues are of no Avail, and con⯑ſequently, fall far ſhort of Perfection them⯑ſelves.

I therefore hope thoſe who have taken ſuch unbounded Liberties with my Charac⯑ter, will alſo allow me to paint out theirs, only with this Difference, that I ſhall con⯑fine myſelf to Truth, a Favour I never yet received at their Hands; ſince even the prieſtly Robe, and Mitred Head, have, with Regard to me, diſclaimed it, of which, in the Series of theſe melancholy Adven⯑tures, I ſhall be able to produce many ſur⯑prizing Inſtances.

[4]I was born in the Year 1712; by my Mother's Side deſcended of an antient and honourable Family, who were frequent⯑ly intermarried with the Nobility. My Great Grandfather was Earl of Killmallock, whoſe Daughter married Colonel Meade, by whom he had twenty-one Children, twelve of whom lived to be married. This Gentleman, to his Honour be it ſpoken, tho' he was a Man of Fortune, and in the Army, declared on his Death-bed, ‘'That he never had, either when a Batche⯑lor, or a married Man, criminal Conver⯑ſation with a Woman; never was drunk; never broke his Word; nor ever uſed Tobacco.'’

The late Duke of Ormond, when Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, dining at Colonel Meade's, offered to confer on him the Ho⯑nour of Knighthood; but he then being in an advanced Age, declined it for himſelf, telling his Grace, ‘'As he was going out of the World, and his eldeſt Son coming into it, he would chuſe, if he thought pro⯑per, his Grace ſhould beſtow it on him:'’ Which accordingly he did.

[5]This Gentleman, Sir John Meade, was bred to the Law, and deſervedly diſtin⯑guiſhed, as one of the fineſt Orators that ever ſpoke at the Bar: He was a perfect Maſter of claſſical Learning; and a Lover and Judge of the muſe-like Arts; his pa⯑ternal Eſtate was about Fifteen Hundred Pounds a Year, which was augmented by marrying ſucceſſively two great Heireſſes; as well as by the vaſt Buſineſs he had in his Profeſſion: So that with all thoſe Advan⯑tages of Nature, Education, and Fortune, it was no Wonder he ſhould meet with univerſal Reſpect and Eſteem.

He was in this Situation, when Sir Ed⯑ward Seymor had an Eſtate of five Thouſand Pounds a Year left to him in Ireland; this was a Matter too conſiderable for Sir Ed⯑ward to hope immediately to poſſeſs with⯑out Law-ſuit or Difficulty; ſo that he found his perſonal Appearance abſolutely neceſſary. It is to be obſerved, that Sir Edward Seymor was accounted the proudeſt Man in England; and Sir John Meade was as remarkable for the ſame Fault; neither indeed did I ever meet with any Perſon of [6] either of thoſe Names in England or Ire⯑land, who was not abundantly ſtocked with it, tho' without the ſame Pretenſions to ſupport it.

Sir Edward Seymor landed at Dublin, filled with that natural Contempt for the whole Country, which thoſe of the Engliſh, who have not been reſident amongſt them, are but too apt to expreſs on every Occa⯑ſion: He there found ſome of his own Countrymen in Places of Profit and Truſt, of whom he enquired, ‘'Whether there are any ſuch Things as good Lawyers to be met with in this damned Place?'’

They anſwered, ‘'Yes, very good; but if he hoped to carry his Cauſe, he muſt ſee Sir John Meade: Well, ſaid he, let one of my Footmen go for him.'’

‘'Your Footman, Sir Edward! ſaid one of the Gentlemen, who knew Sir John: Why, 'tis odds if he will ſpeak to You. I aſſure you, if he does, 'tis a Favour few of his Clients obtain from him.'’ ‘'What, a Duce, return'd he, do Iriſh Lawyers take ſuch State upon them?'’ ‘'You are to conſider, Sir Edward, he is a Gentle⯑man [7] of Family, has a noble Fortune, and is ſo eminent in his Profeſſion, that ſhould he be employed againſt you, you may bid Farewel to your Claim.'’

This laſt Argument had ſuch Force with Sir Edward Seymor, that he condeſcended to wait on Sir John Meade next Morning: Sir John had been apprized of what the other had ſaid; and reſolving to be as ſtate⯑ly as himſelf, ſent him down Word, ‘'He was very buſy, but if he pleaſed to wait till he was at Leiſure, he would ſee him.'’ So Sir Edward was ſhewn into a Parlour, where he remained above an Hour, fretting himſelf to Death, at this diſreſpectful Uſage offered to a Perſon of his Dignity.

When Sir John thought he had pretty ſufficiently mortified him, he ſent to let him know, he ſhould be glad to ſee him, and received him with a Politeneſs natural to him; but when Sir Edward went to open his Caſe to him, he told him, ‘'He muſt leave him his Brief, for he could not ſpare Time to hear him:'’ So Sir Edward laid down his Brief, with a large Purſe of Gold on it; and, having got his Audience [8] of Leave, departed, full of Indignation at meeting with a Man as proud as himſelf.

When the Day appointed for the impor⯑tant Trial was come, there were Numbers of Lawyers engaged on either Side of the Queſtion: Sir John being, I ſuppoſe, re⯑ſolved to try his Client's Patience to the uttermoſt, permitted every one of them to ſpeak before him, without Interruption, and ſat drawing Birds with a Pencil, till Sir Edward was ready to burſt with Rage at him, eſpecially as he found the Cauſe likely to go againſt him: At length, when their Pleadings were ended, and Judgment going to be pronounced againſt Sir Edward, Sir John Meade aroſe, and deſired to be heard, which he ever was with Favour and Attention by the Court, when making a Speech, which took an Hour and a half in Time, he ſo fully confuted all Sir Ed⯑ward's Antagoniſts, and made his Title to the Eſtate ſo evident, and with ſuch power⯑ful Eloquence, that he had a Decree to be put in immediate Poſſeſſion.

Sir Edward was ſo charmed with Sir John's graceful Elocution, that he could [9] not forbear ſeveral Times crying out in Extacy, An Angel! by Heaven, an Angel! But when he found the happy Effects of it ſo much to his own Advantage, he could no longer contain himſelf, but cathing Sir John in his Arms, My dear, dear Friend! ſays he, permit me to have the Honour of calling you ſo: I do not wonder you ſhould be proud, who have more Cauſe to be ſo, than any Man living.

The Court not breaking up, till it was late, Sir Edward preſſed Sir John to give him his Company that Evening; Sir John excuſed himſelf, telling him, ‘'He was every Night engaged to a Club:'’ ‘'Well, then, ſaid Sir Edward, if you will give me Leave, I will accompany you; (pro⯑vided you think it will be agreeable to your Friends?)'’ Sir John anſwered, ‘'They would all, he was ſure, eſteem it as a very great Honour.'’ So according⯑ly Sir Edward met them, and they were mutually delighted with each other's Con⯑verſation, we may preſume, by their ſtay⯑ing together till Four the next Morning. Some of Sir Edward's Friends finding him [10] in Bed at Twelve o'Clock the enſuing Day, he told them, ‘'He had ſat up all Night:'’ ‘'With whom, Sir Edward?'’ Why, returned he, ‘'With Homer, Plato, Socrates, Cicero, and all the antient Greek and Roman Poets, Philoſophers and Hiſ⯑torians.'’

From this Time, Sir Edward and Sir John contracted a Friendſhip, which did not terminate, but with their Lives.

As this little Piece of Hiſtory redounds to the mutual Honour of both theſe great and eminent Gentlemen; I hope it will not be accounted Vanity in me to recite it.

One of Sir John Meade's Siſters, being ſmitten with the good Mien of a Roman Catholick Officer in King James's Army, ſtole a Match with him, of which my Mo⯑ther was the Firſt-fruits; but her Mother dying in Childbed of her ſecond Child, and King William entirely ſubduing Ire⯑land, my Grandfather thought proper to follow his Royal Maſter's Fortune to France, leaving my Mother, then an In⯑fant, to the wide World: However, Pro⯑vidence did not abandon the helpleſs Or⯑phan; [11] her Grandmother, the Widow of Colonel Meade before-mentioned, took her Home to her; and while ſhe lived, with true maternal Tenderneſs, beſtowed on her the beſt and politeſt Education: And when the Truſtees ſat in Ireland, it being proved ſhe was bred a Proteſtant, ſhe recovered her Mother's Fortune, which had been ſettled on her, and which ſhe had been ſome Years kept out of, on Account of her Father's being a forfeiting Perſon.

He, in the mean time, returned privately to England, and married a Niece of the celebrated Jeſuit Father Hugh Peters: by this ſecond Venture, he had one Daughter, who was married to Mr. Fowler of St. Thomas in Staffordſhire, the ſole Heireſs of whom is the preſent Lady Faulconbridge, to whom, were it of any Uſe to me, I have the Honour of being a firſt Couſin by the Half-Blood.

My Mother being now in Poſſeſſion of a handſome Fortune, and by the Death of her Grandmother entirely at her own Diſ⯑poſal, for her Fathern ever enquired what became of her, did not, it may be ſup⯑poſed, [12] want Admirers; eſpecially as ſhe had a very graceful Perſon, with Abun⯑dance of Wit, which was improved by reading and keeping the beſt Company: however, none of them made any Impreſſion on her Heart, till ſhe ſaw my Father, who was the Son of a Dutch Phyſician, that ac⯑cidentally ſettled in Ireland, and who had no other Fortune to boaſt of, than a liberal Education, and a very amiable Perſon and Underſtanding; Qualities which recom⯑mended him to my Mother ſo powerfully, that ſhe had Conſtancy enough to wait for him three Years, while he went to Leyden, where he ſtudied Phyſick under the late fa⯑mous Dr. Boerhaave; and having taken his Degree, he returned to Ireland, uniting him⯑ſelf in Marriage to his faithful Miſtreſs. Her Friends were at firſt much diſpleaſed with her; but my Father's Merit ſoon re⯑conciled them to her Choice; and there being then but one Man-Midwife in the Kingdom, my Father made himſelf Maſter of that uſeful Art, and practiſed it with great Succeſs, Reputation, and Huma⯑nity.

[13]I was their ſecond Child, and my eldeſt Brother dying an Infant, for a long Time their only one; being of a tender weakly Conſtitution, I was by my Father greatly indulged; indeed I cannot ſay, but it was in ſome Meaſure neceſſary he ſhould, by his Gentleneſs, qualify my Mother's Severity to me; otherwiſe it muſt have broke my Heart; for ſhe ſtrictly followed Solomon's Advice, in never ſparing the Rod; inſo⯑much that I have frequently been whipt for looking blue of a froſty Morning; and, whether I deſerved it or not, I was ſure of Correction every Day of my Life.

From my earlieſt Infancy I had a ſtrong Diſpoſition to Letters; but my Eyes being weak, after the Small-pox, I was not permitted to look at a Book; my Mother regarding more the Beauty of my Face, than the Improvement of my Mind; nei⯑ther was I allowed to learn to read: This Reſtraint, as it generally happens, made me but more earneſt in the Purſuit of what I imagined muſt be ſo delightful. Twenty times a Day have I been corrected, for aſk⯑ing what ſuch and ſuch Letters ſpelt; my [14] Mother uſed to tell me the Word, accom⯑panying it with a good Box on the Ear, which, I ſuppoſe, imprinted it on my Mind. Had Gulliver ſeen her Behaviour, I ſhould have imagined, he had borrowed a Hint from it for his floating Iſland, where, when a great Man had promiſed any Favour, the Suppliant was obliged to give him a Tweak by the Noſe, or a Kick on the Rump, to quicken his Memory. However, I do aſſure you, it had this Ef⯑fect on me, inſomuch, that I never forgot what was once told me; and quickly arrived at my deſired Happineſs, being able to read before ſhe thought I knew all my Letters; but this Pleaſure I was obliged to enjoy by Stealth with Fear and Trembling.

I was at this Time about five Years of Age; and my Mother being one Day a⯑broad, I had happily laid hold on Alexan⯑der's Feaſt, and found ſomething in it ſo charming, that I read it aloud;—but how like a condemned Criminal did I look, when my Father, ſoftly opening his Study⯑door, took me in the very Fact; I dropt my Book, and burſt into Tears, begging [15] Pardon, and promiſing never to do ſo a⯑gain: But my Sorrow was ſoon diſpelled, when he bade me not be frightened, but read to him, which, to his great Surprize, I did very diſtinctly, and without hurting the Beauty of the Numbers. Inſtead of the whipping, of which I ſtood in dread, he took me up in his Arms, and kiſſed me, giving me a whole Shilling, as a Re⯑ward, and told me, ‘'He would give me another, as ſoon as I got a Poem by Heart,'’ which he put into my Hand, and proved to be Mr. Pope's ſacred Ec⯑logue; which Taſk I performed before my Mother returned Home. They were both aſtoniſhed at my Memory, and from that Day forward, I was permitted to read as much as I pleaſed; only my Father took care to furniſh me with the beſt, and poli⯑teſt Authors; and took Delight in explain⯑ing to me, whatever, by Reaſon of my tender Years, was above my Capacity of Underſtanding.

But chiefly was I charmed and raviſhed with the Sweets of Poetry; all my Hours were dedicated to the Muſes; and, from a [16] Reader, I quickly became a Writer; I may truly ſay with Mr. Pope,

My Performances had the good Fortune to be looked on as extraordinary for my Years; and the greateſt and wiſeſt Men in the Kingdom did not diſdain to hear the Prattle of the little Muſe, as they called me, even in my childiſh Days. But as I ap⯑proached towards Womanhood there was a new Scene opened to me; and by the Time I had looked on thirteen Years, I had almoſt as many Lovers; not that I ever was handſome, farther than being very fair. But I was well-dreſt, ſprightly, and remarkably well-tempered, unapt to give or take Offence; inſomuch that my Com⯑pany was generally coveted; and no doubt but I ſhould have been happily diſpoſed of in Marriage, but that my Mother's capri⯑cious Temper made her reject every advan⯑tageous Propoſal offered, and at laſt con⯑demn me to the Arms of one of the great⯑eſt V—s, with Reverence to the Prieſt⯑hood. [17] be it ſpoken, that ever was wrapt up in Crape.

And here I cannot forbear obſerving, how very few who wear that S—d H—t are adorned with any real Sanctity of Man⯑ners: What Ambition, Avarice, Luſt, and Cruelty reigns among them; they are ge⯑nerally the firſt Seducers of Innocence (as the Holineſs of their Office gives them free Admittance into every Family) and as ſoon as they have made a Breach in the tender Mind for Ruin's waſteful Entrance, (pro⯑vided they can but ſlip their own Necks out of the Halter and remain unexpoſed) they ſhall be the firſt to perſecute with Ec⯑cleſiaſtical Courts, and Spiritual Authori⯑ty, that very Perſon, whom they them⯑ſelves firſt taught the Way to ſin.

And 'tis ever allowed that the Loſers may have leave to ſpeak.

I would not, by this Reflection, be thought to ſtrike at Religion, or the valuable Part [18] of the Clergy: Thoſe who are poſſeſſed of Chriſtian Charity, and make the Sincerity of their Faith appear in the Righteouſneſs of their Life, are truly worthy of Reve⯑rence and Honour; but alas! their Num⯑ber is ſo few, that the Ears of Corn are ſcarce diſcernable among the Tares, of whom no doubt Satan will reap a plen⯑tiful Harveſt.

But to return. Amongſt all thoſe who addreſt me, my Heart retained its Freedom; and if their Flattery pleaſed me, it was only as it fed my Vanity; that Paſſion, which, like Pride, is ſo univerſal: I had no parti⯑cular Engagement, was entirely ſubmiſſive to my Parents, punctual to all the Duties of Religion, unaffectedly innocent, and much more pleaſed with my Female Friends, than with the Company of Men.

There were two young Ladies, in parti⯑cular, for whom, from my Childhood, I had a very tender Affection, and whom, as often as I could, I viſited; as their Brother was a Clergyman, many of the Gown fre⯑quented their Houſe, and amongſt the reſt, the Reader of our Pariſh-Church, Mr. [19] P—n. He had a good Face, and many agreeable Accompliſhments; as a tolerable Taſte in Muſic, and a poetical Turn, which greatly entertained me; but being a Man of obſcure Birth, and low Fortune, I had no farther Thoughts of him, than merely as an Acquaintance: However, it was my Misfortune to be liked by him, when I leaſt imagined it; as he played very well on the Organ, he gave us an Invitation to Church, promiſing, after Evening-Prayer, to ſing an Anthem for us. I, who always delighted in Church-Muſic, begged my Mother's Per⯑miſſion to go, which, with ſome Difficulty, I obtained. After the Muſic he invited us into the Veſtry-Room, where he had prepa⯑red a little Collation of Fruit, Wine, &c. and ſingling me out, he began to addreſs me in a very paſſionate Stile, and earneſtly beg⯑ged Leave to viſit me: I told him, ‘'I was to go into the Country next Day, to ſtay all the Summer, and were I not, I had no Male Viſitants, but ſuch as my Parents approved of; and conſequently it was out of my Power to grant his Requeſt.'’ My Mother ſending for me, prevented any far⯑ther [20] Converſation for that Time; and ear⯑ly the next Morning we ſet out on our in⯑tended Journey.

During my Stay in the Country, he wrote me a great many poetical Compli⯑ments, and ſubſcribed himſelf Amintas: As they were really very elegant, my Mo⯑ther, who always examined my Letters, expreſt great Curioſity to know the Wri⯑ter; ſaying, ‘'I ought to return a Letter of Thanks to him:'’ But as I took this only for a Trap, I told her, which was true, I knew not who it was; leſt I ſhould be denied the Pleaſure of viſiting the young Ladies, where I firſt ſaw him, if I ſhould have given her the ſmalleſt Hint, that I gueſſed at the Perſon.

I had, by this Time, a Brother of about nine Years of Age, of whom my Father and Mother were fond even to Extrava⯑gance; whenever I went abroad, he uſed to cry to go with me, and was conſtantly indulged in it.

A few Days after our Return to Town, I went to wait on the young Ladies before⯑mentioned, and took my Brother with me; [21] I was ſcarce ſeated when Mr. P—n came in; and after ſaluting me, began to re⯑proach me with Cruelty, in never having favoured him with an Anſwer to any of his Letters. I told him, ‘'I was much obliged to him, for the agreeable Entertainment they had afforded me; but that, except⯑ing my Father, I had never wrote to any Man, neither was I Miſtreſs of Wit e⯑nough to correſpond with him.'’ A good many civil Things were ſaid on either Hand, during Tea Time; after which my Brother growing urgent with me to return Home, I happened to ſay he was ſo great a Favourite, I durſt not contradict him; upon which, Mr. P—n made his Appli⯑cation to him, and gave him an Invitation to his Lodgings; where he entertained him ſo kindly, that the Child returned in Rap⯑tures with him; and loaden with Toys and Sweetmeats. Upon this Civility to my Brother, my Father ſent and invited Mr. P—n to Dinner; (and you may be ſure he did not refuſe him) but quickly found the Art of making himſelf ſo agreeable to my Parents, that they were even uneaſy [22] whenever he was abſent; which ſeldom happened, except when his Duty required his Attendance. He now began openly to court me; and, to my great Surprize, nei⯑ther of them feemod averſe to it; but al⯑lowed him as much Liberty of converſing with me, as a reaſonable Man could deſire; and for my own Part, he gained ſo large a Share in my Eſteem, that as they ſeemed to approve of him, I was very well ſatis⯑fied.

One Year paſt on in this Manner, during which Time, Mr. P—n never omitted any Thing to convince me of the Sincerity of his Paſſion; and tho' he ſaw me every Day, and all the Day; yet every Day was ſtill but as the firſt:

The enſuing Spring, my Mother took a Lodging, about a Mile from Dublin, by the Sea-ſide, for the Benefit of bathing, where my Father and Mr. P—n came every Afternoon together to viſit us; but my Father's Buſineſs ſeldom permitting [23] him to ſtay above half an Hour, he gene⯑rally left Mr. P—n with us: Who, one Night happening to ſtay later than ordina⯑ry, left a Gold Watch, and a handſome Diamond Ring in my Poſſeſſion; leſt, as he ſaid, he ſhould be robbed of them going Home. My Father and he coming to us the next Day, (according to Cuſtom) I brought to Mr. P—n his Ring and Watch; but he would by no Means ac⯑cept of either, but inſiſted on my keeping them as a Preſent; my Father and Mother were both by; and neither of them ſhew⯑ing any Diſlike to it, I was, with great Reluctance, obliged by him to take them.

I mention theſe Particulars, trifling as they are, becauſe I have been accuſed of Diſobedience to my Parents, in marrying without their Conſent or Knowledge; whereas they were acquainted with the Af⯑fair from Beginning to End; neither was I any more than paſſive in it; never hav⯑ing allowed myſelf to have any Will but theirs.

My Father was at this Time ſo eminent in his Profeſſion, and lived after ſo elegant [24] a manner, that every body concluded, he was able to give me a very good Fortune; and few People could believe he counte⯑nanced Mr. P—n's Addreſſes to me; he neither having any Preferment in the Church, nor any other Fortune: And what⯑ever Merit an Iriſh Clergyman may poſſeſs, he has little Hope of Advancement by it, unleſs he has ſome Relation in the Houſe of Commons, who, by betraying the Inte⯑reſt of his Country, can procure for him,

And in this, the preſent State of poor Ire⯑land nearly reſembles that of England, un⯑der the Reign of Queen Mary, when, as ſoon as a Biſhoprick became vacant, an Ita⯑lian was immediately nominated to it. Ireland groans under the ſame Calamity: An Engliſh V—y, Engliſh Judges, Eng⯑liſh Biſhops, with their long Train of Re⯑lations and Dependants, lay their hard [25] Hands on all Preferments; while her learn⯑ed Sons languiſh out Life, in hopeleſs Po⯑verty and Dejection of Spirit.

I have frequently obſerved it, as a Want of Policy in the Engliſh Government, to permit the People of Ireland to have an U⯑niverſity: Learning naturally inſpires Men with the Love of Liberty; the Principles of which ought to be diſcouraged in the Minds of thoſe, whom their Maſters are pleaſed to condemn to Slavery, Want and Oppreſſion; unleſs, perhaps it may be done with a cruel Intent, of making their Yoke the more galling to them.

Ireland, while free, was remarkable for producing brave and valiant Men. Ever witneſs for her,

[26]I hope I ſhall be pardoned by all true Patriots for this Digreſſion; if not, I can only make Uſe of Falſtaff's Apology, That Rebellion lay in my Way, and I found it.

But to reſume my Thread. All my Friends and Relations attacked my Father warmly on this Head; who ſolemnly de⯑clared, ‘'He knew nothing of any amorous Correſpondence between Mr. P—n and his Daughter, that the Gentleman came to viſit us, as being Pariſhioners:'’ But withal declared: ‘'Since ſuch a Report was ſpread, he would civilly forbid him the Houſe;'’ which accordingly he or⯑dered my Mother to do. Mr. P—n came as uſual, and my Mother delivered her dreadful Commiſſion to him. No ſooner was the fatal Sentence pronounced, but my aſtoniſhed Lover fell pale and ſpeechleſs to the Floor; and to ſay the Truth, my Caſe was little better than his: I raiſed him in my Arms, and ſenſeleſs as he ſeemed, he graſped me cloſe, and leaned his drooping Head upon my Boſom; whilſt my Mother applied Remedies to [27] him till he revived: When he came to himſelf, he blamed us for our Care: ſay⯑ing, ‘'Since I was loſt, he could not, would not live.'’

As I was naturally of a ſoft compaſ⯑ſionate Temper, the Condition I ſaw him in pierced my very Soul; but I was too much in Awe of my Mother to venture to ſay ſo at that Time. So he left me with Sorrow deeply imprinted in his Counte⯑nance, and, as I believed, in his Heart.

About two Years before this, a young Woman of about eighteen Years of Age, was brought to my Father, by a Stationer, to be by him inſtructed in Midwifery: She was Miſtreſs of Hebrew, Greek, Latin and French, underſtood the Mathematicks, as well as moſt Men: And what made theſe extraordinary Talents yet more ſurprizing, was, that her Parents were poor illiterate Country People; ſo that her Learning ap⯑peared like the Gift poured out on the A⯑poſtles, of ſpeaking all Languages, with⯑out the Pains of Study; or, like the intui⯑tive Knowledge of Angels: Yet in as much as the Power of Miracles is ceaſed; we [28] muſt allow ſhe uſed human Means for ſuch great and excellent Acquirements: And yet in a long Friendſhip and Famili⯑arity with her, I could never obtain a ſatis⯑factory Account from her on this Head; only ſhe ſaid, ‘'ſhe had received ſome little Inſtruction from the Miniſter of the Pa⯑riſh, when ſhe could ſpare Time from her Needlework, to which ſhe was cloſely kept by her Mother.'’ She wrote elegant⯑ly both in Verſe and Proſe; and ſome of the moſt delightful Hours I ever paſt, were in the Converſation of this female Philoſopher.

My Father readily conſented to accept of her as a Pupil; and gave her a general Invitation to his Table, ſo that ſhe and I were ſeldom aſunder. My Parents were well pleaſed with our Intimacy, as her Piety was not inferior to her Learning. Whe⯑ther it was owing to her own Deſire, or the Envy of thoſe who ſurvived her, I know not; but of her various and beautiful Wri⯑tings, except one Poem of her's in Mrs. Barber's Works, I have never ſeen any publiſhed; 'tis true, as her Turn was chief⯑ly [29] to philoſophical or divine Subjects, they might not be agreeable to the preſent Taſte; yet could her heavenly Muſe de⯑ſcend from its ſublime Height to the eaſy epiſtolary Stile, and ſuit itſelf to my then gay Diſpoſition; as may appear by the two following Poems: To make them intelli⯑gible, my Reader muſt obſerve, that I being in a Country Town at the Aſſizes Time, had writ her an Account to Dublin of the principal Entertainments I met with there and in the reſt of the Country. I muſt alſo beg Pardon for publiſhing the Compliments paid to me in them, which I really would omit were it poſſible. Her Anſwer to my firſt Letter was this.

The Second was as follows:

[34]As this Lady was perfectly well ac⯑quainted with Mr. P—n's Regard for me, he applied to her to intreat a Meeting at her Lodgings, where I frequently went.

She had too much Compaſſion for a deſ⯑pairing honourable Lover to refuſe his Re⯑queſt; and accordingly ſhe gave him No⯑tice the next Viſit that I made to her, after having aſked my Conſent to it. Our In⯑terview was very melancholy, and his Sighs and Tears prevailed ſo much on my young ſoft Heart, that, at laſt, I faithfully pro⯑miſed to be his; but added, ‘'We were both ſo young, that it would be prudent to wait till he had ſome Preferment, or till my Parents came into better Tem⯑per; and that, in the mean time, I would ſee him, or write to him, as often as I conveniently could.'’

I forgot to mention, that I had ſent him his Watch and Ring ſome Days before; he would fain have prevailed on me to take them again, but I abſolutely refuſed them.

The next Morning, my Father told me, I muſt prepare to go and ſtay a Year with my Grandfather, who lived a hundred Miles [35] diſtant from Dublin, and that I muſt ſet out in two Days. I made no Anſwer, but thought proper to give Mr. P—n No⯑tice of my Departure, and eaſily prevailed on my Brother to give him a Letter; but Heav'ns! how was I frighted when he, re⯑turning in a few Moments, told me, Mr. P—n had ſtabbed himſelf with his Penknife: I ran all in Tears to my Mo⯑ther, entreating her Permiſſion to go and ſee him. She appeared much concerned, and ſent for him to come to us, which pleaſ⯑ing Summons he readily obeyed. But I could ſcarce forbear laughing at my own Credulity, when my wounded Swain came to us in perfect Health. He had indeed given himſelf a Scratch, on Purpoſe to ter⯑rify us, and had juſt ſuch a deſperate Wound as I have frequently received from the Point of a Pin, without complaining.

However, by this Artifice he once more gained Admiſſion to us, and had an Op⯑portunity of aſſuring my Mother, ‘'That if ſhe ſent me to the Weſt-Indies, he would follow me;'’ and added alſo, ‘'That he was next Heir to a good Eſtate;'’ [36] which was the moſt prevailing Argument he could make uſe of to her; and took ſuch an Effect, that ſhe not only kept him to Supper, but ſo far indulged him, as to give him a Key to the Garden which o⯑pened into a little Stable Lane, by which means he could come in and go out as often as he pleaſed unnoticed. As ſoon as he left us, my Mother ſpoke to me in this Manner: ‘'Child, ſaid ſhe, I believe that young Man loves you ſincerely, neither have your Father or I any Objection to him; but in the Light we appear in to the World, it would ſeem ſtrange to ac⯑cept of him as a Son-in law. Your Fa⯑ther is not, at preſent, able to give you a Fortune; and I know moſt of thoſe who addreſs you, hope for one with you; and he chuſes rather to reject them, than let them into his real Circumſtances: What I would therefore adviſe you to is this: If you love this Man, marry him; we ſhall at firſt ſeem diſpleaſed, and then forgive it, and do for you every thing within our Power; as he is an ingenious, ſober Man, your Father's Intereſt may [37] ſoon get him a Living, and till then ye ſhall both live with us.'’

This Diſcourſe ſtrangely ſurprized me, and left me doubtful how to act; to take to myſelf the Reproach of Diſobedience, in the Eyes of the World, appeared very ſhocking to me; and tho' I was reſolved to marry Mr. P—n ſome Time or o⯑ther, yet I was ſtartled at the Thought of doing it immediately, and told my Mo⯑ther my Objections: However they ap⯑peared but trifling to her. The next Morning ſhe called me pretty early to Breakfaſt, and, to my great Surprize, I found Mr. P—n with my Father, his Harpſichord placed in the Parlour, which, with a Cat and an Owl, were all his world⯑ly Goods.

He told me with great Rapture, that he was going for a Ring and a Licence to be married in the Evening. As for my Part, I thought he only jeſted, till my Father confirmed it, by telling me I muſt either reſolve to marry immediately, or break off with Mr. P—n entirely, leaving it to my Choice which to do. I was too [38] much confounded to make any other Return than to give my Hand to Mr. P—n, who kiſſed it with great Extacy; and my unfortunate Nuptials being thus concluded, we were married privately in the Evening by the Vicar-General, having no other Wit⯑neſſes but my Father and Mother, and his Father, and we reſolved to keep it ſecret for a few Days to avoid the Hurry and Expence of Matrimony. We went into the Country to my Uncle Brigadier Meade's Seat for a Fortnight; where my new eſ⯑pouſed Huſband ſtaying from me a whole Day, in Purſuit of his Game (for he de⯑lighted in Fowling) at his Return, I pre⯑ſented him with the following Lines, my firſt Attempt in Poetry that was not quite childiſh:

This little poetical Eſſay met with more Applauſe than it really merited, on Account of my Youth, and was extremely acceptable to Mr. P—n, who, with the Raptures of an enamoured Bridegroom, read it to every Perſon whom he thought poſſeſſed of Taſte or Genius.

On our Return to Town, we received the Viſits and Compliments of all our Ac⯑quaintance; every one of whom my Mo⯑ther aſſured, I had married without their Conſent; but this was not all, for ſhe ſaid it ſo often, that at length ſhe perſuaded her⯑ſelf it was ſo; and made it a Pretence for giving me all imaginable ill Treatment, both in publick and private, which, having no Remedy, I was obliged to bear as pa⯑tiently as I could; for if I quitted her Houſe, I had no Place to go to, as Mr. P—n's whole Income would ſcarce have paid the Rent of a tolerable ready furniſhed Lodging. However I had ſome Conſola⯑tion in Mr. P—n's Tenderneſs, which [41] ſeemed daily to increaſe for me, and in the Converſation of a very agreeable Set of Friends, ſome of whom it may not be a⯑miſs to give a particular Deſcription of.

In the firſt Place, I had the Honour of being well received by Mrs. Percival, who is married to the Brother of the Earl of Egmont, to whoſe Virtues I cannot refuſe doing Juſtice, (altho' her Cenſures of me have not been over-charitable) a Lady of moſt univerſal Genius, there being no one Accompliſhment, that adorns the Woman of Quality but what ſhe poſſeſſed; and her Sta⯑tion gave her an Opportunity of ſhewing them to Advantage; ſhe was alſo extreme⯑ly happy in her Family; her Huſband was a moſt worthy Gentleman; both her Sons Men of Senſe and Honour, and one of her Daughters very agreeable. It may eaſily be ſuppoſed this Belle Aſſembly engaged the Company of all the learned and polite World; every Night was a Drawing-Room, and the ingenious and curious of both Sexes went Home delighted and im⯑proved. As my Father was Phyſician to Mrs. Percival, and her eldeſt Son married [42] to a near Relation of mine, I had at all Times free Acceſs, and ſo found a frequent pleaſing Relief from my Vexations.

I had alſo the much envied Honour of being known to Dr. Swift, whoſe Ge⯑nius, excellent as it was, ſurpaſſed not his Humanity in the moſt judicious and uſeful Charities; altho' often hid under a rough Appearance, till he was perfectly convinced both of the Honeſty and Diſtreſs of thoſe he beſtowed it on: He was a perpetual Friend to Merit and Learning; and utter⯑ly incapable of Envy. Indeed why ſhould he not? who, in true genuine Wit, could fear no Rival.

Yet as I have frequently obſerved in Life, that where great Talents are beſtowed, there the ſtrongeſt Paſſions are likewiſe given: This truly great Man did but too often let them have Dominion over him, and that on the moſt trifling Occaſions. During Meal-times he was evermore in a Storm; the Meat was always too much or too little done, or the Servants had offended in ſome Point, imperceptible to the reſt of the Company; however, when the Cloth [43] was taken away, he made his Gueſts rich Amends for the Pain he had given them by the former Part of his Behaviour. For

Yet ſtrict Temperance preſerved; for the Doctor never drank above half a Pint of Wine, in every Glaſs of which he mixed Water and Sugar; yet, if he liked his Company, would ſit many Hours over it, unlocking all the Springs of Policy, Learn⯑ing, true Humour and inimitable Wit.

It is a very great Loſs to the World, that this admirable Gentleman never could be prevailed on to give us the Particulars of his own Life; becauſe, as it is the Fate of all eminent Perſons to have various Cha⯑racters given of them, ſo it was more re⯑markably his: One Reaſon for this may juſtly be aſſigned; that as at his firſt ſetting out Party ran high, thoſe who on either Side had any Talents for Writing, ſpared not to throw the blackeſt Aſperſions on the [44] other; ſo that, if we give them both Cre⯑dit, we muſt conclude, there was neither Honour nor Virtue among them; but that all who were out, Tories and Whigs, Whigs and Tories, were equally corrupt: Indeed Ambition is a grand Deceiver, and apt to undermine Integrity itſelf; and this the Doctor himſelf was ſo ſenſible of, that I have frequently heard him declare, ‘'He thought it a great Bleſſing that all his Hopes of Preferment were at once cut off; inſomuch that he had nothing to tempt or miſlead him from a Patriotiſm, in which his grateful Country found their Happineſs and Security.'’

This leads me to a Story, I remember to have heard him tell, and therefore, I hope, cannot be impertinent:

A Clergyman, whoſe Character greatly reſembled that I have heard Biſhop Berkley give to Biſhop Atterbury; namely, a moſt learned fine Gentleman, who under the ſoft⯑eſt and politeſt Appearance concealed the moſt turbulent Ambition: This Clergy⯑man having made his Merit, as a Preacher, too eminent to be overlooked, had it early [45] rewarded with a Mitre; his Friend Dr. Swift went to congratulate him on it; but at the ſame Time told him, ‘'He hoped, as his Lordſhip was a Native of Ireland, and had now a Seat in the Houſe of Peers, he would employ his powerful Elocution in the Service of his diſtreſſed Country.'’ The Prelate told him, ‘'The Biſhoprick was but a very ſmall one, and he could not hope for a better, if he did not oblige the Court.'’ ‘'Very well, ſays Swift, then it is to be hoped, when you have a better, you will become an honeſt Man.'’ ‘'Ay, that I will, Mr. Dean, ſays he, till then, my Lord, farewel.'’ This pious Prelate was twice tranſlated to richer Sees; and, on every Tranſlation, Dr. Swift waited on him to remind him of his Promiſe, but to no Purpoſe; there was now an Archbiſhoprick in View, and till that was obtained, nothing could be done: This in a ſhort Time he likewiſe poſſeſſed; he then ſent for the Dean, and told him, ‘'I am now at the Top of my Pre⯑ferment, for I well know no Iriſhman will ever be made Primate, therefore as [46] I can riſe no higher in Fortune or Sta⯑tion, I will zealouſly promote the good of my Country.'’ (A fine Reaſon truly!) And ſo he commenced a moſt outrageous Patriot, from thoſe very laudable Motives, and continued ſo till his Death, which hap⯑pened within theſe few Years.

I hope my Readers will indulge me in the frequent Mention I ſhall make of Dr. Swift; for tho' his Works are univer⯑ſally eſteemed; yet few Perſons now living, have had ſo many Opportunities of ſeeing him in private Life; as my being a Perſon ſans Conſequence afforded me, which Hap⯑pineſs I obtained by the following Means:

The learned Nymph before-mentioned, whom Curioſity engaged every Perſon to ſee, had ſhewn many of my Scribbles to Dr. Delany, known ſufficiently by his own incomparable Life and Writings: As ſhe was one of the firſt to congratulate me on my Marriage; ſhe was a Witneſs how ſeverely both Mr. P—n and I were uſed, or rather abuſed by my Mother; ſhe told Dr. Delany of it, and made ſuch fa⯑vourable mention of the poor young Couple, [47] that he generouſly imagined his countenan⯑cing Mr. P—n might be a Means of pro⯑curing us better Treatment. He had been Claſs-fellow with my Father in the Col⯑lege, and tho' they did not viſit, yet they had that mutual Eſteem for each other, which good Men feel for good Men; and were pleaſed whenever Accident threw them into each other's Company. The Doctor, preaching at our Pariſh Church immedi⯑ately after our Marriage, was ſo kind as to join us coming out, and accompany us Home, to wiſh the young Couple Joy, a Favour we were all extremely proud of; at parting he gave us all an Invitation to to dine at his beautiful Villa, about a ſmall Mile diſtant from Dublin; what Opinion I conceived of him and his Improvements, may be ſeen in the following Lines, com⯑poſed in one of his lovely Arbours:—

Whether it was owing to my Youth, or any real Merit in the Verſes, I know not, but, weak as they were, from the Candour of the Company they met with great Applauſe, and the worthy Gentleman to whom they were directed, praiſed the Poetry extremely, only modeſtly wiſhed I had a better Sub⯑ject to employ my fine Genius, as he was pleaſed to call it.

I hope, if I ſhould live to publiſh theſe Writings, none of the honourable Perſons mentioned in them, as having been once my Friends, will be offended at it; ſince whate⯑ver Misfortunes have ſince befallen me, I was not then quite unworthy of the Re⯑gard they ſhewed me, and ſtill retain a grateful Senſe of their Favour; only la⯑menting that by one fatal Folly it is irreco⯑verably loſt.

And now I muſt confeſs, as I have talked of Ambition, I had a ſtrong one to be known to Dr. Swift: As Dr. Delany had recommended and introduced Mr. [50] P—n to him, and the learned Lady before-mentioned, I thought it a little hard to be excluded from the Delight and In⯑ſtruction I might poſſibly receive from ſuch Converſation; and having often re⯑monſtrated on this Head, to no Purpoſe, I at laſt told them, (for to give me my due I was pretty pert) ‘'that truly they were envious, and would not let me ſee the Dean, knowing how much I ſurpaſſed them all.'’ As I ſpoke this but half ſe⯑rious, I ſet them all a laughing, and as they were to meet the next Day at the Deanery-Houſe to keep the Anniverſary of his Birth-day, I incloſed to Dr. Delany the following Lines:

Dr. Delany preſented theſe Lines to the Dean, and at the ſame time told him my ſaucy Speech above-mentioned. The Dean kindly accepted of my Compliment, and ſaid, ‘'He would ſee me whenever I pleaſ⯑ed.'’ A moſt welcome Meſſage to me!

A few Days after, the Dean ſent the Doctor Word, he would dine with him at Delville, and deſired to meet Mr. and Mrs. P—n there: You may be aſſured I obeyed this welcome Summons, and a Gen⯑tlewoman [52] was ſo kind as to call on me to go with her; when we arrived, Dr. De⯑lany's Servant told us, his Maſter, the Dean, and Mr. P—n were walking in the Garden; we met them on a noble Terraſs, whoſe Summit was crowned with a mag⯑nificent Portico, where Painting and Sculp⯑ture diſplayed their utmoſt Charms: The Lady preſented me to the Dean, who ſa⯑luted me, and ſurprized me, by aſking her, ‘'If I was her Daughter?'’ She ſmiled and ſaid, ‘'I was Mrs. P—n.'’ ‘'What, ſays he, this poor little Child married! God help her, ſhe is early engaged in Trouble.'’ We paſſed the Day in a moſt elegant and delightful Manner; and the Dean, engag⯑ing Mr. P—n to preach for him at the Cathedral the Sunday following, gave me alſo with the reſt of the Company an Invi⯑tation to Dinner. As the Communion is adminiſtered every Sunday in this antique Church, dedicated to St. Patrick, the firſt Prelate who taught the Goſpel in Ireland, I was charmed to ſee with what a becoming Piety the Dean performed that ſolemn Ser⯑vice; which he had ſo much at Heart, that [53] he wanted not the Aſſiſtance of the Litur⯑gy, but went quite thro' it without ever looking in the Prayer-Book. Indeed an⯑other Part of his Behaviour on this Occa⯑ſion was cenſured by ſome as ſavouring of Popery, which was, that he bowed to the Holy-Table; however this Circumſtance may vindicate him from the wicked Aſper⯑ſion of being deemed an Unbeliever, ſince 'tis plain he had the utmoſt Reverence for the Euchariſt. Service being over, we met the Dean at the Church-Door, ſur⯑rounded by a Crowd of Poor, to all of whom he gave Charity, excepting one old Woman, who held out a very dirty Hand to him; he told her very gravely, ‘'That though ſhe was a Beggar, Water was not ſo ſcarce but ſhe might have waſhed her Hands:'’ And ſo we marched with the Silver Verge before us to the Deanery-Houſe. When we came into the Parlour, the Dean kindly ſaluted me, and without allowing me Time to ſit down, bade me come and ſee his Study; Mr. P—n was for following us, but the Dean told him merrily, He did not deſire his Company; [54] and ſo he ventured to truſt me with him into the Library: ‘'Well, ſays he, I have brought you here to ſhew you all the Mo⯑ney I got when I was in the Miniſtry, but do not ſteal any of it.'’ ‘'I will not indeed, Sir, ſays I;'’ ſo he opened a Ca⯑binet, and ſhewed me a whole Parcel of empty Drawers; ‘'Bleſs me, ſay he, the Money is flown;'’ he then opened his Bureau, wherein he had a great Number of curious Trinkets of various Kinds, ſome of which he told me, ‘'Were preſented to him by the Earl and Counteſs of Oxford; ſome by Lady Maſham, and ſome by La⯑dy Betty Germain;'’ at laſt, coming to a Drawer filled with Medals, he bade me chuſe two for myſelf; but he could not help ſmiling, when I began to poize them in my Hands, chuſing them by Weight rather than Antiquity, of which indeed I was not then a Judge.

The Dean amuſed me in this Manner till we were ſummoned to Dinner, where his Behaviour was ſo humorous, that I cannot avoid relating ſome Part of it: He placed himſelf at the Head of his Table oppoſite [55] to a great Pier-Glaſs, under which was a Marble Side-board, ſo that he could ſee in the Glaſs whatever the Servants did at it: He was ſerved entirely in Plate, and with great Elegance; but the Beef being over⯑roaſted put us all in Confuſion, the Dean called for the Cook-maid, and ordered her to take it down Stairs, and do it leſs; the Maid anſwered, very innocently, ‘'That ſhe could not:'’ ‘'Why, what Sort of a Crea⯑ture are you, ſays he, to commit a Fault which cannot be amended?'’ And turning to me he ſaid very gravely, ‘'That he hoped, as the Cook was a Woman of Genius, he ſhould, by this Manner of ar⯑guing, be able in about a Year's Time to convince her ſhe had better ſend up the Meat too little than too much done;'’ charging the Men Servants, ‘'Whenever they imagined the Meat was ready, they ſhould take it Spit and all, and bring it up by Force, promiſing to aid them, in caſe the Cook reſiſted.'’ The Dean then turning his Eye on the Looking-glaſs eſ⯑pied the Butler opening a Bottle of Ale, and helping himſelf to the firſt Glaſs; he [56] very kindly jumbled the reſt together, that his Maſter and Gueſts might all fare alike. ‘'Ha! Friend, ſays the Dean, Sharp's the Word, I find you drank my Ale, for which I ſtop two Shillings of your Board-Wages this Week, for I ſcorn to be out⯑done in any thing, even in cheating.'’ Dinner at laſt was over to my great Joy; for now I had Hope of a more agreeable Entertainment than what the ſquabbling with the Servants had afforded us.

The Dean thanked Mr. P—n for his Sermon: ‘'I never, ſays he, preached but twice in my Life, and then they were not Sermons, but Pamphlets.'’ I aſked him, ‘'What might be the Subject of them;'’ he told me, ‘'They were againſt Wood's Half-pence.'’ ‘'Pray, Madam, ſays he, do you ſmoke;'’ ‘'No indeed, Sir, ſays I;'’ ‘'Nor your Huſband;'’ ‘'Neither, Sir:'’ ‘'It is a Sign, ſaid he, you were neither of you bred in the Univer⯑ſity of Oxford; for drinking and ſmoak⯑ing are the firſt Rudiments of Learning taught there; and in thoſe two Arts no Univerſity in Europe can out-do them.'’ [57] ‘'Pray Mrs. P—n tell me your Faults;'’ ‘'Indeed, Sir, I muſt beg to be excuſed, for if I can help it, you ſhall never find them out;'’ ‘'No, ſays he, then Mr. P—n ſhall tell me;'’ ‘'I will, Sir, ſays he, when I have diſcovered them.'’ ‘'Pray Mr. Dean, ſays Dr. Delany, why will you be ſo unpolite, as to ſuppoſe Mrs. P—n has any Faults?'’ ‘'Why, I will tell you, replied the Dean; whenever I ſee a Number of agreeable Qualities in any Perſon, I am always ſure, they have bad ones ſufficient to poize the Scale.'’ I bowed, and told the Dean, ‘'He did me great Honour:'’ And in this I copied Bi⯑ſhop Berkley, whom I have frequently heard declare, ‘'That when any Speech was made to him, which might be conſtrued either into a Compliment, or an Affront, or (that to make uſe of his own Word) had two Handles; he was ſo meek and ſo mild, that he always took hold of the beſt.'’

The Dean then aſked me, ‘'If I was a Queen, what I ſhould chuſe to have after Dinner?'’ I anſwered, ‘'His Converſa⯑tion;'’ [58] ‘'Phooh! ſays he, I mean what Regale?'’ ‘'A Diſh of Coffee, Sir;'’ ‘'Why then I will ſo far make you as hap⯑py as a Queen, you ſhall have ſome in Perfection; for when I was Chaplain to the Earl of Berkley, who was in the Go⯑vernment here, I was ſo poor, I was ob⯑liged to keep a Coffee-houſe, and all the Nobility reſorted to it to talk Treaſon:'’ I could not help ſmiling at this Oddity, but I really had ſuch an Awe on me, that I could not venture to aſk him, as I longed to do, what it meant? The Bottle and Glaſſes being taken away, the Dean ſet a⯑bout making the Coffee; but the Fire ſcorching his Hand, he called to me to reach him his Glove, and changing the Coffee-pot to his Left-hand, held out his Right one, ordered me to put the Glove on it, which accordingly I did; when taking up Part of his Gown to fan himſelf with, and acting in Character of a prudiſh Lady, he ſaid, ‘'Well, I do not know what to think; Women may be honeſt that do ſuch Things, but, for my Part, I never could bear to touch any Man's Fleſh—[59] except my Huſband's, whom perhaps, ſays he, ſhe wiſhed at the Devil.’

‘'Mr. P—n, ſays he, you would not tell me your Wife's Faults; but I have found her out to be a d—ned, inſolent, proud, unmannerly Slut:'’ I looked con⯑founded, not knowing what Offence I had committed.—Says Mr. P—n, ‘'Ay, Sir, I muſt confeſs ſhe is a little ſaucy to me ſometimes, but—what has ſhe done now?'’ ‘'Done! why nothing, but ſat there quietly, and never once offered to interrupt me in making the Coffee, whereas had I had a Lady of modern good Breeding here, ſhe would have ſtruggled with me for the Coffee-pot till ſhe had made me ſcald myſelf and her, and made me throw the Coffee in the Fire; or per⯑haps at her Head, rather than permit me to take ſo much trouble for her.'’

This raiſed my Spirits and as I found the Dean always prefaced a Compliment with an Affront, I never afterwards was ſtartled at the latter, (as too many have been, not entering into his peculiarly ironical Strain) but was modeſtly contented with [60] the former, which was more than I deſerv⯑ed, and which the Surprize rendered doubly pleaſing.

By this Time, the Bell rang for Church; and Dr. Delany and Mr. P—n, who with myſelf were now all the Company, (for the reſt departed before the Coffee was out) were obliged to attend the Summons: But as there is no Service in the Cathedral, but Evening-Prayer at Six o'Clock, I choſe rather to attend the Dean there, than go to hear another Sermon; by this means I had him all to myſelf for near three Hours, during which Time he made me read to him the Annals of the four laſt Years of the Reign of Queen Anne, written by him⯑ſelf; the Intentions of which ſeemed to be a Vindication of the then Miniſtry and him⯑ſelf, from having any Deſign of placing the Pretender on the Throne of Great-Britain: It began with a ſolemn Adjuration, that all the Facts therein contained were Truth, and then proceeded in the Manner of Lord Clarendon, with giving the particular Cha⯑racters of every Perſon whom he ſhould have occaſion to mention; amongſt whom, [61] I remember, he compared Lord Bolling⯑broke to Petronius, one who agreeably mingled Buſineſs with Pleaſure. At the Concluſion of every Period, he demanded of me, ‘'Whether I underſtood it? For I would, ſays he, have it intelligent to the meaneſt Capacity, and if you compre⯑prehend it, 'tis poſſible every Body may.'’ ‘'I bowed, and aſſured him I did.'’ And indeed it was written with ſuch Perſpecuity and Elegance of Stile, that I muſt have had no Capacity at all, if I did not taſte what was ſo exquiſitely beautiful.

Mr. P—n, when he was Chaplain to Alderman Barber, in the Year of his Mayoralty, mentioned thoſe Annals to Mr. Pope, who ſaid he had diſſuaded the Dean from publiſhing them; as the Facts contained in them were notoriouſly falſe. I was greatly aſtoniſhed when Mr. P—n told me this, nor could I tell what to deter⯑mine: It ſeemed ſtrange to me, that a Perſon of the Dean's good Senſe and Ve⯑racity, ſhould in the moſt ſolemn manner invocate the Almighty to bear Teſtimony to Falſhoods, publicly known to be ſuch. [62] And yet as Mr. Pope was in Proſe a Man of unqueſtioned Probity, and united to the Dean in the ſtricteſt Bonds of Friendſhip, and conſequently, without doubt, well ac⯑quainted with the Tranſactions of thoſe Times, we can hardly ſuppoſe he would ſpeak in the manner he did, without juſt Grounds for ſo doing; and his Evidence ſeems ſtrengthened by his being of the Ro⯑miſh Religion, which muſt certainly incline him to wiſh well to a Prince of the ſame Faith. However, upon the whole, I am inclined to judge charitably of the Dean; and to believe, that tho' the Miniſters fre⯑quently employed him as a Writer, and en⯑tertained him as a Companion; yet they had not let him into the Depth of their De⯑ſigns, the Myſtery of Iniquity! So that what he relates in his Annals of the invio⯑lable Attachment of thoſe in Power to the Hanover Succeſſion and the Proteſtant Faith, might be by him believed to be Truth: For who ſo wiſe but may be de⯑ceived? And perhaps Mr. Pope's long and intimate Correſpondence with Lord Bolling⯑broke gave him a better Knowledge of [63] what was really intended at that critical Juncture. Pardon this Digreſſion.

The Bell rang for Evening-Prayer, to which I accompanied the Dean. There is a fine Organ in this Church, which, with its antique Magnificence and ſo harmonious a Choir, brought Milton's Lines into my Mind:

On our Return to the Deanery-houſe, we found there waiting our coming Dr. Delany and Mr. Rochford, to whoſe Wife, A Letter of Advice to a new-married Lady, [64] (publiſhed ſince in the Dean's Works) was written, and which by the bye, the Lady did not take as a Compliment, either to her or the Sex, Mr. P—n, Dr. Sheridan, Author of the Art of Punning, with two or three other Clergymen, (who uſually paſſed Sunday Evening with the Dean) Mr. P—n and I were for going Home, but the Dean told us, ‘'He gave us leave to ſtay to Supper;'’ which from him was a ſufficient Invitation. The Dean then pulled out of his Pocket, a little Gold Runlet, in which was a Bottle-Screw, and opening a Bottle of Wine, he decanted it off; the laſt Glaſs being muddy, he called to Mr. P—n to drink it: ‘'For, ſays he, I always keep ſome poor Parſon to drink the foul Wine for me:'’ Mr. P—n, entering into his Humour, thank⯑ed him, and told him, ‘'He did not know the Difference, but was glad to get a Glaſs at any rate:'’ ‘'Why then, ſays the Dean, you ſhan't, for I'll drink it my⯑ſelf: Why, P—x take you, you are wiſer than a paultry Curate, whom I aſked to dine with me a few Days ago; [65] for upon my making the ſame Speech to him, he told me he did not underſtand ſuch Uſage, and ſo walked off without his Dinner. By the ſame Token, I told the Gentleman who recommended him to me, That the Fellow was a Blockhead, and I had done with him.'’

The Dean then miſſing his Golden Bottle-Screw, told me, very ſternly, ‘'He was ſure I had ſtolen it:'’ I affirmed, very ſeriouſ⯑ly, ‘'I had not:'’ Upon which he looked for it, and found it where he himſelf had laid it; ‘''Tis well for you, ſays he, that I have got it, or I would have charged you with Theft:'’ ‘'Why, pray, Sir, ſhould I be ſuſpected more than any other Per⯑ſon in the Company?'’ ‘'For a very good Reaſon, ſays he, becauſe you are the pooreſt.'’

There now came in, to ſup with the Dean, one of the oddeſt little Mortals I ever met with: He formerly wrote the Gazetteer; and upon the Strength of be⯑ing an Author, and of having travelled, took upon him not only to dictate to the Company, but to contradict whatever any [66] other Perſon advanced Right or Wrong, till he had entirely ſilenced them all: And then having the whole Talk to himſelf, (for, to my great Surprize, the Dean neither interrupted nor ſhewed any Diſlike of him) he told us a whole String of Improbabi⯑lities, ſuch as, ‘'That each Pillar of St. Peter's at Rome took up more Ground than a Convent which was near it, where⯑in were twelve Monks, with their Cha⯑pel, Garden, and Infirmary.'’ By this Account, every Pillar muſt take up, at leaſt, half an Acre, and, conſidering the Number of them, we muſt conclude the Edifice to be ſome Miles in Circumference. No one preſent had ever been at Rome, except himſelf, ſo that he might tell us juſt what he thought proper.

I took notice, that before this dogma⯑tical Gentleman the Dean was moſt re⯑markably complaiſant to Mr. P—n and me, and at our going away, the Dean would hand me down all the Steps to the Coach, thanking us for the Honour of our Company, at the ſame time ſliding into my Hand as much Money as Mr. P—n [67] and I had given at the Offering in the Morning, and Coach-hire alſo, which I durſt not refuſe, leſt I ſhould have been deemed as great a Blockhead as the Parſon, who refuſed the thick Wine.

It has been a Matter of Diſpute amongſt the Learned, whether England or Ireland had the Honour of giving to the World this admirable Perſon; 'tis probable Poſterity may contend this Point, as warmly as the ſeven Cities of Greece did the Birth-place of Homer: And tho' in reality, 'tis of no great Importance where a Man is born; yet as the Iriſh are the eternal Ridicule of the Engliſh for their Ignorance, I am proud Hibernia had the Happineſs of producing this brilliant Wit, to redeem the Credit of the Country; and to convince the World, a Man may draw his firſt Breath there, and yet be learned, wiſe, generous, religi⯑ous, witty, ſocial and polite.

The Account I have frequently heard the Dean give of himſelf, was, that he was born in Hoey's-Alley, in Warburgh's Pariſh, Dublin; his Father was a Lawyer, and re⯑turning from the Circuit, he unfortunately [68] brought home the Itch with him, which he had got by lying in ſome foul Bed on the Road. Somebody adviſed him to uſe Mercury to cure it, which Preſcription coſt him his Life in a very few Days after his Return. The Dean was a poſthumous Son to this Gentleman, but, as he ſaid, came Time enough to ſave his Mother's Credit. He was given to an Iriſh Woman to nurſe, whoſe Huſband being in England, and writing to her to come to him; as ſhe could not bear the Thoughts of parting with the Child, ſhe very fairly took him with her, unknown to his Mother, or any of his Relations, who could learn no Tid⯑ings either of him or her for three Years; at the End of which Time, ſhe returned to Ireland, and reſtored the Child to his Mo⯑ther, from whom ſhe eaſily obtained a Par⯑don, both on account of the Joy ſhe con⯑ceived at ſeeing her only Son again, when ſhe had in a manner loſt all Hope of it; as alſo, that it was plain, the Nurſe had no other Motive for ſtealing him, but pure Affection, which the Women of I [...]land generally have in as eminent Degree, for [69] the Children they nurſe, as for their own Offspring.

I believe the Dean's early Youth did not promiſe that bright Day of Wit which has ſince enlightened the learned World. Whilſt he was at the Univerſity of Dublin, he was ſo far from being diſtinguiſhed for any Superiority of Parts or Learning, that he was ſtopped of his Degree as a Dunce. When I heard the Dean relate this Circum⯑ſtance, for I ſet down nothing but what I had from his own Mouth, I told him, I ſuppoſed he had been idle; but he affirmed to the contrary; aſſuring me, he was real⯑ly dull, which, if true, is very ſurpriſing.

I have often been led to look on the World as a Garden, and the human Minds as ſo many Plants, ſet by the Hand of the great Creator for Utility and Ornament. Thus, ſome we ſee, early produce beauti⯑ful Bloſſoms, and as ſoon fade away; others, whoſe Gems are more ſlow in un⯑folding, but more permanent, when blown; and others again, who tho' longer in arriving at Perfection, not only bleſs us then with Shade and Odour, but alſo with [70] delicious wholeſome Fruit. To go on with the Allegory, we often hear from Chil⯑dren very bright Sallies of Wit, and Re⯑flections above their Years: From theſe hopeful Beginnings we are apt to expect ſomething very extraordinary in their Ma⯑turity, but how often are we diſappointed? How often do we ſee theſe ſparkling Chil⯑dren dwindle gradually into the moſt hum⯑drum Men and Women, as if, to make uſe of the Floriſts Phraſe, the Blow was quite over; and ſome, whoſe Childhood has given no Preſages of great Talents, have improved every Year, till they have brought forth the beautiful Flowers of Poetry and Rhetorick, and the rich Fruits of Wiſdom and Virtue.

Whether this Compariſon will hold, I ſubmit to the Judgment of thoſe who are better acquainted with the ſecret Workings of Nature, than I can preſume to be. I am afraid of going out of my Depth, and yet I have a great Inclination to ſay a little more on this Subject.

I have known a Perſon, who in his Youth was an extraordinary Adept in Muſic, and [71] performed on ſeveral Inſtruments extreme⯑ly well. I ſaw the ſame Perſon ſome Years after; and lo! his muſical Talent was entire⯑ly loſt, and he was then a very good Painter. Now I could not help forming a Notion in my own Mind, that as our Ideas depend on the Fibres of the Brain, it was poſſible we might by the continual Uſe of ſome particular one, weaken it ſo as to make it periſh; and at the ſame time, another might exert from that very Cauſe itſelf with dou⯑ble Strength. Thus, I ſuppoſe, when this Gentleman's muſical Fibres periſhed, his painting ones ſhot forth with Vigour. If there be any Truth in this Whim of mine, which, I own, I am fond of believing my⯑ſelf, we may eaſily account for the various Diſpoſitions which we meet with, even in the ſame Perſon at different Periods of Life.

But to return. Altho' it is not in my Power to give a ſuccinct Account of the Dean's Life, neither have I any intention to attempt it, yet I believe I am better qualified to do it, than moſt of thoſe who have undertaken it, as they were abſolute [72] Strangers to him, and relate Things upon Hearſay. The Dean, for the latter Part of his Life, contracting his Acquaintance into a very narrow Compaſs, for as he was fre⯑quently deaf, he thought this Infirmity made him troubleſome, and therefore kept no Company but ſuch as he could be ſo free with, as to bid them ſpeak loud, or repeat what they had ſaid; it was owing to this, that Mr. P—n and I frequently paſſed whole Days with him, while Numbers of our betters were excluded; and as he was like another Neſtor, full of Days and Wiſ⯑dom, ſo like him, he was pretty much upon the Narrative, than which nothing could be more delightful to me, as Pleaſure and Inſtruction flowed from his Lips:

I remember in one of theſe periodica [...] Fits of Deafneſs, for they returned on cer⯑tain Seaſons on him, he ſent for me earl [...] in the Morning; he told me when I came [73] he had found Employment for me; ſo he brought to me out of his Study a large Book, very finely bound in Turkey Lea⯑ther, and handſomely gilt; this, ſays he, is a Tranſlation of the Epiſtles of Horace, a Preſent to me from the Author, it is a ſpe⯑cial good Cover! But I have a Mind there ſhould be ſomething valuable within ſide of it; ſo taking out his Penknife, he cut out all the Leaves cloſe to the inner Mar⯑gin. Now, ſays he, I will give theſe what they greatly want, and put them all into the Fire. He then brought out two Draw⯑ers filled with Letters: Your Taſk, Ma⯑dam, is to paſte in theſe Letters, in this Cover, in the Order I ſhall give them to you; I intended to do it myſelf, but that I thought it might be a pretty Amuſement for a Child, ſo I ſent for you. I told him, I was extremely proud to be honoured with his Commands: But, Sir, may I preſume to make a Requeſt to you, yes, ſays he, but ten to one I ſhall deny it. I hope not, Sir, it is this; may I have leave to read the Letters as I go on? Why, provided you will acknowledge yourſelf amply re⯑warded [74] for your Trouble, I do not much care if I indulge you ſo far; but are you ſure you can read? I do not know, Sir, I will try. Well then begin with this: It was a Letter from Lord Bolingbroke, dated ſix o'Clock in the Morning; it began with a Remark, how differently that Hour ap⯑peared to him now riſing cool, ſerene, and temperate, to contemplate the Beauties of Nature, to what it had done in ſome for⯑mer Parts of his Life, when he was either in the midſt of Exceſſes, or returning Home ſated with them; ſo he proceeded to deſcribe the numberleſs Advantages with which Temperance and Virtue bleſs their Votaries, and the Miſeries which attend a contrary Courſe. The Epiſtle was pretty long, and the moſt refined Piece of moral Philoſophy I ever met with, as indeed eve⯑ry one of his were, and I had the unſpeak⯑able Delight of reading ſeveral of them.

Nor can I be at all ſurprized, that Mr. Pope ſhould ſo often celebrate a Genius, who, for Sublimity of Thought, and Ele⯑gance of Stile, had few Equals. The reſt of the Dean's Correſpondents were, the [75] Lady Maſham, the Earl of Oxford, Dr. Atterbury, Biſhop Burnet, Lord Bathurſt, Mr. Addiſon, Archdeacon Parnell, Mr. Congreve, Mr. Pultney, Mr. Pope, Mr. Gay, Dr. Arbuthnot; a noble and a learn⯑ed Set! So my Readers may judge what a Banquet I had. I could not avoid remark⯑ing to the Dean, that notwithſtanding the Friendſhip Mr. Pope profeſſed for Mr. Gay, he could not forbear a great many ſatirical, or, if I may be allowed to ſay ſo, envious Remarks on the Succeſs of the Beggar's Opera. The Dean very frankly owned, he did not think Mr. Pope was ſo candid to the Merits of other Writers, as he ought to be. I then ventured to aſk the Dean, whe⯑ther he thought the Lines Mr. Pope ad⯑dreſſes him with, in the Beginning of the Dunciad, were any Compliment to him? viz.

‘'I believe, ſays he, they were meant as ſuch; but they are very ſtiff;'—’ ‘'Indeed, [76] Sir, ſaid I, he is ſo perfectly a Maſter of harmonious Number, that had his Heart been in the leaſt affected with his Subject, he muſt have writ better;'’ ‘'How cold, how forced, are his Lines to you, com⯑pared with yours to him:'’

Here we ſee the maſterly Poet, and the warm, ſincere, generous Friend; while he, according to the Character he gives of Mr. Addiſon, damns with faint Praiſe.— ‘'Well, replied the Dean, I will ſhew you a late Letter of his to me;'’ he did ſo; and I own I was ſurprized to find it filled with low and ungentleman-like Reflections both on Mr. Gay and the two noble Perſons who honoured him with their Patronage after his Diſappointment at Court. ‘'Well, Madam, ſaid the Dean, what do you think of that Letter? (ſeeing I had gone quite through it:)—’ ‘'Indeed, Sir, re⯑turned I, I am ſorry I have read it; for it gives me Reaſon to think there is no [77] ſuch thing as a ſincere Friend to be met with in the World.'’ ‘'Why, replied he, Authors are as jealous of their Preroga⯑tive as Kings, and can no more bear a Rival in the Empire of Wit, than a Mo⯑narch could in his Dominions.'’ ‘'But, Sir, ſaid I, here is a Latin Sentence writ in Italics, which, I ſuppoſe, means ſome⯑thing particular; will you be ſo kind to explain it?'’ ‘'No, replied he, ſmiling,—I will leave that for your Huſband to do;—I will ſend for him to come and dine with us, and in the mean time we will go and take a Walk in Naboth's Vineyard:'’ ‘'Where may that be, pray, Sir?'—’ ‘'Why a Garden—I cheated one of my Neighbours out of.'—’When we entered the Garden, or rather the Field, which was ſquare, and incloſed with a Stone Wall, the Dean aſked me how I liked it? ‘'Why pray, ſaid I, where is the Garden?'’ ‘'Look behind you,'’ ſaid he; I did ſo, and obſerved the South Wall was lined with Brick, and a great Num⯑ber of Fruit Trees planted againſt it, which being then in Bloſſom, looked very beau⯑tiful. [78] ‘'What are you ſo intent on, ſaid the Dean?'’ ‘'The opening Blooms, Sir, which brought Waller's Lines to my Re⯑membrance:— Hope waits upon the flow'ry Prime.’

‘'Oh! replied he, you are in a poetical Vein; I thought you had been taking Notice of my Wall, it is the beſt in Ire⯑land; when the Maſons were building it, (as moſt Tradeſmen are Rogues) I watched them very cloſe, and as often as they could, they put in a rotten Stone, of which however, I took no Notice, till they had built three or four Perches be⯑yond it; now as I am an abſolute Monarch in the Liberties ^*, and King of the Mob, my Way with them, was to have the Wall thrown down to the Place where I obſerved the rotten Stone, and by doing ſo five or ſix Times, the Workmen were at laſt convinced it was their Intereſt to be honeſt;'’ or elſe, Sir, ſaid I, your Wall ‘'would have been as tedious a Piece of [79] Work as Penelope's Web, if all that was done in the Day was to be undone at Night:'’ ‘'Well, anſwered he, I find you have Poetry for every Occaſion; but as you cannot keep Pace with me in walk⯑ing; (for indeed I was not quite ſo light then, as I had been ſome Months before) I would have you ſit down on that little Bank, till you are reſted or I tired, to put us more upon a Par.'’

I ſeated myſelf, and away the Dean walk⯑ed, or rather trolled, as hard as ever he could drive. I could not help ſmiling at his odd Gait, for I thought to myſelf, he had written to ſo much in Praiſe of Horſes, that he was reſolved to imitate them as nearly as he could: As I was indulging this Fancy, the Dean returned to me, and gave me a ſtrong Confirmation of his Par⯑tiality to thoſe Animals; ‘'I have been conſidering, Madam, as I walked, ſaid he, what a Fool Mr. P—n was to marry you, for he could have afforded to keep a Horſe for leſs Money than you coſt him, and that, you muſt confeſs, would have given him better Exerciſe and [80] more Pleaſure than a Wife:—Why you laugh, and do not anſwer me—is not it Truth?'’ ‘'I muſt anſwer you, Sir, with another Queſtion; Pray how can a Batchelor judge of this Matter?'’ ‘'I find, ſaid he, you are vain enough to give yourſelf the Preference:'’ ‘'I do, Sir, to that Species here, a Huyoniam, I would, as becomes me, give Place to: But, Sir, it is going to rain;'—’ ‘'I hope not, ſaid he, for that will coſt me Six-pence for a Coach for you, (this Garden being at ſome Diſtance from his Houſe) come, haſte: O how the Teſter trembles in my Pocket!'’ I obeyed, and we got in a Doors juſt Time enough to eſcape a heavy Shower. ‘'Thank God, ſaid the Dean, I have ſaved my Money; here, you Fel⯑low, (to his Servant) carry this Six-pence to the lame old Man that ſells Ginger⯑bread at the Corner, becauſe he tries to do ſomething, and does not beg.'’

The Dean ſhewed me into a little Street-Parlour, (where ſat his Houſekeeper, a matron-like Gentlewoman at Work) ‘'Here, ſays he, Mrs. Brent, take Care of this [81] Child, meaning me) and ſee ſhe does no Miſchief, while I take my Walk out within Doors:'’ The Deanery-Houſe has I know not how many Pair of Back-Stairs in it; the preceding Dean who built it being, it ſeems, extremely fearful of Fire, was reſolved there ſhould be many Ways to eſcape in caſe of Danger.

The Dean then ran up the Great-Stairs, down one Pair of Back-Stairs, up another, in ſo violent a Manner, that I could not help expreſſing my Uneaſineſs to the good Gentlewoman, leſt he ſhould fall, and be hurted; ſhe ſaid, ‘'It was a cuſtomary Ex⯑erciſe with him, when the Weather did not permit him to walk abroad.'’

I told Mrs. Brent, ‘'I believed the Dean was extremely charitable;'’ ‘'Indeed, Ma⯑dam, replied ſhe, No body can be more ſo; his Income is not above ſix hundred Pounds a Year, and every Year he gives above the Half of it in private Penſions to decayed Families; beſides this, he keeps five hundred Pounds in the conſtant Ser⯑vice of the induſtrious Poor: This he lends out in five Pounds at a Time, and [82] takes the Payment back at twelve Pence a Week; this does them more Service, than if he gave it to them entirely, as it obliges them to work, and at the ſame Time keeps up this charitable Fund for the Aſſiſtance of many. You cannot i⯑magine what Numbers of poor Tradeſmen, who have even wanted proper Tools to carry on their Work, have by this ſmall Loan, been put into a proſperous Way, and brought up their Families in Credit. The Dean, added ſhe, has found out a new Method of being charitable, in which however, I believe, he will have but few Followers; which is, to debar himſelf of what he calls the Superfluities of Life, in order to adminiſter to the Neceſſities of the Diſtreſſed; you juſt now ſaw an In⯑ſtance of it, the Money a Coach would have coſt him, he gave to a poor Man, unable to walk; when he dines alone, he drinks a Pint of Beer, and gives away the Price of a Pint of Wine; and thus he acts in numberleſs Inſtances.'’

My Reader will, I hope, do me the Juſ⯑tice to believe I was quite charmed with this [83] Account of the Dean's beneficent Spirit; and I no longer wondered ſo many of the Clergy endeavoured to depreciate him; for, as it is well known, there are not, in the general, a more voluptuous Set of Men living, this Doctrine of Self-denial. was enough to make them pour out all their Anathema's on him, and brand him with the Name of Atheiſt, Unbeliever, and ſuch like Terms, as they in their Chriſtian Zeal thought proper to beſtow.

I before admired the Dean as a Perſon of diſtinguiſhed Genius, but now I learned to revere him as the Angel of Ireland. The Dean running into the Parlour, threw a whole Packet of Manuſcript Poems into my Lap, and ſo he did for five or ſix Times ſucceſſively, till I had an Apron full of Wit and Novelty, (for they were all of his own Writing,) and ſuch as had not then been made public, and many of them, I believe, never will. Mr. P—n coming, according to the Dean's Deſire, to Dinner, found me deeply engaged, and ſat down to partake of my Entertainment, till we were ſummoned to Table, to a leſs [84] noble Part. ‘'Well, Mr. P—n, ſaid the Dean, I hope you are jealous; I have had your Wife a good many Hours, and as ſhe is a likely Girl, and I a very young Man, (Note, he was upwards of Threeſcore) you do not know what may have happened: Tho' I muſt tell you, you are very partial to her; for here I have not been acquainted with her above ſix Months, and I have al⯑ready diſcovered two intolerable Faults in her; 'tis true, I looked ſharp, or per⯑haps they might have eſcaped my No⯑tice: Nay, Madam, do not look ſur⯑priſed, I am reſolved to tell your Huſ⯑band, that he may break you of them.'’ ‘'Indeed, Sir, returned I, my Surprize is, that you have not found out two and fifty in half that time; but let me know them, and I will mend of them, if I can.'’ ‘'Well put in, ſays he, for I be⯑lieve you can't; but eat your Dinner, however, for they are not capital.'’ I obeyed, yet was very impatient to know my particular Errors; he told me, ‘'I ſhould hear of them Time enough.'’

[85]The Things being taken away; ‘'Now, good Sir, ſaid I, tell me what I do amiſs, that I may reform;'’ ‘'No, returned he; but I'll tell your Huſband before your Face to ſhame you the more:—In the firſt Place, Mr. P—n, ſhe had the in⯑ſolence this Morning, not only to deſire to read the Writings of the moſt cele⯑brated Genius's of the Age, in which I indulged her; but ſhe muſt alſo, for⯑ſooth, pretend to praiſe or cenſure them,' as if ſhe knew ſomething of the Matter; indeed her Remarks were not much a⯑miſs, conſidering they were Gueſs-Work; but this Letter here of Mr. Pope's ſhe has abſolutely condemned; read it, (he did ſo;) take notice of it, ſaid the Dean; ſhe would alſo have had me explain that Latin Sentence to her, but I had ſome Modeſty, tho' ſhe had none you ſee.'’ ‘'Why, Sir, ſaid I, ſure Mr. Pope would not (eſpecially to you) write any thing which even a Virgin might not read.'’ Now, Mr. P—n, ‘'ſaid the Dean, is her Curioſity at work; I'll be hang'd if ſhe lets you ſleep to⯑night till you have ſatisfied it. But this [86] is not all; ſhe had the Vanity to affirm, that ſhe thought herſelf preferable to a Horſe, and more capable of giving you pleaſure: Nay, ſhe laugh'd in my Face for being of a different Opinion; and aſked me how a Batchelor ſhould know any thing of the Matter? If you don't take down her Pride, there will be no bearing her.'’

‘'Indeed, Sir, ſaid Mr. P—n, 'tis your Fault that ſhe is ſo conceited; ſhe was always diſpoſed to be ſaucy, but ſince you have done her the honour to take notice of her, and make her your Companion, there is no ſuch thing as mortifying her.'’ ‘'Very fine, ſaid the Dean, I have got much by complaining to you, to have all your Wife's Faults laid at my Door.'’ ‘'Well, Sir, ſaid I; all theſe Miſdemeanors may be included under the Article of Pride: Now, let me know my other Crime:'’ ‘'Why, ſaid he, you can't walk faſt; but at pre⯑ſent, I excuſe you.'’ ‘'Well, Sir, if I can't mend my Pride, I'll try to mend my Pace.'’ ‘Mr. P—n, ſaid he, I [87] 'have a mind to clip your Wife's Wit.'’ ‘'Indeed, Sir, ſaid I, that's Death by Law, for 'tis Sterling.'’ ‘'Shut up your Mouth, for all Day, Letty, ſaid Mr. P—n, for that Anſwer is real Wit.'’ ‘Nay, 'ſaid the Dean, I believe we had better ſhut up our own, for at this rate ſhe'll be too many for us.'’ I am ſure, if I was not proud before, this was enough to make me ſo.

The Dean gueſſed right, when he ſaid, I would not let Mr. P—n ſleep till he had explained to me the Latin Sentence in Mr. Pope's Letter; which, at my Requeſt, he did. And, indeed, none but ſuch a wicked Wit could have contrived to turn the Words of our bleſſed Saviour, ſo as to make them convey a very impure, as well as a moſt uncharitable, Idea to the Mind.

Feuds ran ſo high between my Mother and Mr. P—n, that my Life became very unhappy. So we determined to quit my Father's Houſe for a little one of our own, which my Huſband's Father made us a Preſent of; and which, by the Bounty of our Friends, who came a Houſe⯑warming [88] to us, was ſoon elegantly fur⯑niſhed; there was a large Garden to it, which Mr. P—n laid out in a moſt beautiful Taſte, and built a delightful Sum⯑mer-houſe in it, fit indeed for a Nobleman; here we uſually entertained our Friends; here alſo we both invoked the Muſe. Mr. P—n coming in Curate, (by the Remo⯑val of Dr. Owens to a Living, of whoſe Behaviour to me in my Misfortunes, I ſhall have occaſion to ſpeak) and by having the Honour of being Chaplain to Lady Charlemont, with an annual Allowance I had from my Father, our Income was about one hundred Pounds a Year; ſo that having no Rent to pay, and having my Father's Coach and Table always at our Command, we could, in ſo cheap a Coun⯑try as Ireland, live in a very decent Man⯑ner; as Dr. Swift mentions our doing in a Letter of his to Mr. Pope, now pub⯑liſhed amongſt others.

The Dean came to dine with us in our Lilliputian Palace, as he called it, and who could have thought it? He juſt looked into the Parlour, and ran up into the Gar⯑ret, [89] then into my Bed-chamber and Li⯑brary, and from thence down to the Kit⯑chen; and well it was for me that the Houſe was very clean; for he compli⯑mented me on it, and told me, ‘'That was his Cuſtom; and that 'twas from the Cleanlineſs of the Garret and Kitchen he judged of the good Houſewifery of the Miſtreſs of the Houſe; for no doubt, but a Slut would have the Rooms clean, where the Gueſts were to be entertained.'’

He really was ſometimes very rude, even to his Superiors, of which the following Story, related to me by himſelf, may ſerve as one Inſtance amongſt a thouſand others.

The laſt time he was in London, he went to dine with the Earl of Burlington, who was then but newly married. My Lord being willing, I ſuppoſe, to have ſome Di⯑verſion, did not introduce him to his La⯑dy, nor mention his Name: 'Tis to be obſerved, his Gown was generally very ruſty, and his Perſon no way extraordinary.—After Dinner, ſaid the Dean, ‘'Lady Burlington, I hear you can ſing; ſing me a Song.'’ The Lady looked on this [90] unceremonious manner of aſking a Favour with Diſtaſte, and poſitively refuſed him. He ſaid, ſhe ſhould ſing, or he would make her. ‘'Why, Madam, I ſuppoſe you take me for one of your poor paul⯑try Engliſh Hedge Parſons; ſing, when I bid you.'’ As the Earl did nothing but laugh at this Freedom, the Lady was ſo vexed that ſhe burſt into Tears, and retired.

His firſt Compliment to her, when he ſaw her again, was, ‘'Pray, Madam, are you as proud and as ill-natured now, as when I ſaw you laſt?'’ To which ſhe an⯑ſwered with great good Humour,— ‘'No, Mr. Dean; I'll ſing for you, if you pleaſe.'’—From which time he con⯑ceived great Eſteem for her. But who that knew him would take offence at his Bluntneſs? It ſeems Queen Caroline did not, if we may credit his own Lines, wherein he declares, That he

I cannot recollect that ever I ſaw the Dean laugh; perhaps he thought it beneath him; for when any Pleaſantry paſſed, which might have excited it, he uſed to ſuck in his Cheeks, as Folks do when they have a Plug of Tobacco in their Mouths, to avoid Riſibility. He frequent⯑ly put me in mind of Shakeſpear's Deſcrip⯑tion of Caſſius:

As the Dean, and, after his Example, Mr. P—n, were eternally ſatyrizing and [92] ridiculing the Female Sex; I had a very great inclination to be even with them, and expoſe the Inconſtancy of Men; and bor⯑rowing a Hint from a Story in the Peru⯑vian Tales, I formed from it the follow⯑ing Poem; and I hope it will be acceptable to my fair Readers, as it is peculiarly ad⯑dreſſed to them.

[107]I doubt not but the World will expect to hear from me ſome of the Dean's A⯑mours, as he has not quite eſcaped Cenſure, on account of his Gallantries; but here I am not able to oblige my Reader, he be⯑ing too far advanced in Years, when I firſt had the honour of being known to him, for Amuſements of that kind. I make no doubt but he has often been the Object of Love, and his Cadenus and Vaneſſa ſeem to aſſure us, that he was the Favourite of one Lady; but to ſpeak my Sentiments, I really believe it was a Paſſion he was whol⯑ly unacquainted with, and which he would have thought it beneath the Dignity of his Wiſdom to entertain. Not that I ever imagined he was an Enemy to the Fair; for when he found them docile, he took great pleaſure to inſtruct them: And if I have any Merit, as a Writer, I muſt gratefully acknowledge it due to the pains he took to teach me to think and ſpeak with Propriety; tho', to tell the Truth, he was a very rough ſort of a Tutor for one of my Years and Sex; for whenever [108] I made uſe of an inelegant Phraſe, I was ſure of a deadly Pinch, and frequently re⯑ceived Chaſtiſement before I knew my Crime. However I am convinced, had he thought me incorrigibly dull, I ſhould have eſcaped without Correction; and the black and blue Favours I received at his Hands, were meant for Merit, tho' be⯑ſtowed on me. Yet tho', to my Shame I own it, I was fond of Admiration to a Fault, and a little too much upon the Co⯑quette, for a married Woman, I would at any Time give up any Pleaſure or Gai⯑ty, for the more rationaln Etertainment of the Dean's Converſation.

Five Years rolled inſenſibly away in a Kind of tolerable Happineſs, as Lady Town⯑ly terms it; but that it ſeems, I was not much longer to enjoy: However, before I begin to ſpeak of Offence and Trouble, I ſhall endeavour to enliven my Narration with all the little amuſing Incidents I can poſſibly recollect.

The following Trifle, as it was produc⯑tive of a handſome Letter to me from the Dean, and of more Honour than I could [109] poſſibly expect from it, my Vanity will not let me omit. My Brother teized me one Evening to write ſome Verſe as a School Exerciſe for him, I aſked him what I ſhould write upon; Why, ſaid he pertly, what ſhould you write upon but the Paper? So taking it for my Subject, I wrote the fol⯑lowing Lines.

[110]As the Lines did not ſuit my Brother's Purpoſe, they lay careleſsly on the Table, when a Lady of Diſtinction, who was going to England, came to take her leave of us: She would examine what I had been ſcrib⯑bling, and ſeemed ſo well pleaſed with my Rhymes, that ſhe did them the Honour to put them in her Pocket-Book, and I never thought more of them.

About four Years after this, making a Viſit to Baron Wainwright's Lady, ſhe told me, ſhe had got a very pretty Poem from London, wrote by the Lord Chancellor Tal⯑bot's Daughter, a young Lady of but twelve Years of Age, and deſired I would read them for the Good of the Company; but how great was my Surprize, to find they were the above Lines! however, I went through my Taſk, and Mrs. Wainwright aſked my Opinion of them, and ſeemed impatient at my Silence. I told her, the young Lady muſt have wrote them at leaſt four Years before, becauſe I had ſeen them ſo long ago. Upon which the Baron ſaid, that he alſo remembered them, and that he was told by the Perſon he ſaw them with, [111] that they were writ by a very young Girl, who was married to a Clergyman in Ire⯑land. My ſmiling made them gueſs at the Perſon, and at the ſame Time excuſed me for being not over forward to praiſe them. When I returned home, I found a Letter from Mr. P—n, who was in London, with a News Paper incloſed, wherein the above Poem was printed. I related this to the Dean, who ordered me to ſend the Lines to him. The next Morning a Lady came to viſit me, who told me, it being the Dean's Birth-Day, he had received a Book very richly bound and claſped with Gold, from the Earl of Orrery, with a handſome Poem, wrote by himſelf to the Dean, in the firſt Page, the reſt being blank; and that Dr. Delany had ſent him a ſilver Standiſh, with a complimentary Poem. ‘'Why then, ſaid I, as the Dean is furniſhed with Paper and Ink, it is the leaſt I can do to ſend him a Pen;'’ ſo having a fine Eagle's Quill, I wrapt it into the following Lines, and ſent it to the Dean, and alſo the Bit of a News Paper, [112] wherein the Lines on PAPER were printed in London.

On New-Year's-Day I received from the Dean the following Letter.

But as I have mentioned Mr. P—n's being in London, I ought alſo to inform my Reader what Inducement he had to quit his Family for a whole Year, which was as fol⯑lows. Dr. Swift had, in Queen Anne's Reign, been the firſt Promoter of Alderman Barber, who afterwards by many lucky Ac⯑cidents roſe to be Lord Mayor of London, which Station he filled with diſtinguiſhed Abilities, and retained ſo grateful a Senſe of the Dean's Fa [...]ur to him, that he made him the Compliment of nominating a Chap⯑lain to him; the Dean offered this Honour to Mr. P—n, who gladly accepted of [115] it, and came home in high Spirits to ac⯑quaint me with his Preferment; but what⯑ever Joy it brought to him, I was quite ſunk in Sorrow at the Thoughts of parting for ſo long a Time with one I ſo dearly loved. All his Friends were againſt his going; and the late Primate Dr. Hoadly, then Archbiſhop of Dublin, remonſtrated to him, that ſerving under a Perſon ſo re⯑markably diſaffected as the Alderman, might very probably prejudice him in the Eyes of the Government; but all in vain. Mr. P—n was ever raſh, obſtinate, and ſelf-willed; and ſhould I add treacherous, cruel, and ungrateful, I ſhould not wrong the Truth; but however unwilling I am to ſpeak harſhly of the Huſband of my Youth, and the Father of my Children, I muſt draw his Character, wherein I will

That he is both a Scholar, and a Man of Genius, all who know him muſt allow; but like Mr. Pope he is ſo plagued with Envy, [116] that he even hated me becauſe I could write, and took an invincible Averſion to Coun⯑ſellor Smith, becauſe he excelled him on the Harpſichord. It happened one Evening that this Gentleman ſung and played to us the Oratorio of Queen Eſther; unfortunate⯑ly for me I was ſo charmed with it, that at the Concluſion of the Muſic I wrote the following Lines.

As the Lines were wrote off-hand, as, to ſay the Truth, every Thing of mine is, for I am too volatile to reviſe or correct any thing I write, Mr. Smith complimented Mr. P—n on having a Wife who could write better than himſelf, he ſuppoſing Mr. P—n to be ſo much the Lover, that he would be delighted with my Praiſe, and join in it. But, lack-a-day! he little knew what I was to ſuffer for the Superiority of Genius he was pleaſed to aſcribe to me. I then was continually told with a contemp⯑tuous jibing Air, O my Dear! a Lady of your Accompliſhments! why Mr. Smith ſays you write better than I; and to be ſure he is a great Judge! But another unlucky Accident likewiſe happened: How fatal to me has Praiſe been! We ſupped at the [118] Dean's, and I had been reading out, by his Command, ſome of his proſaic Work; he was pleaſed to ſay I acquitted myſelf ſo well, that I ſhould have a Glaſs of his beſt Wine, and ſent Mr. P—n to the Cellar for it. The Dean in the mean Time ſaid to me, ‘'I would have every Man write his own Engliſh.'’ ‘'To be ſure, Sir, ſaid I, that would be beſt.'’ ‘'Ay, to be ſure, Sir; you give me an Anſwer, and P—x take you, I am ſure you do not under⯑ſtand my Meaning.'’ ‘'Very poſſible, Sir; but I certainly underſtand my own, when I have any.'’ ‘'Well then, what do you underſtand by writing one's own Eng⯑liſh?'’ ‘'Why really, Sir, not to confine one's ſelf to a Set of Phraſes, as ſome of our antient Engliſh Hiſtorians, Camden in particular, ſeems to have done, but to make uſe of ſuch Words as naturally oc⯑cur on the Subject.'’ ‘'Huſh! ſays he, your Huſband is coming; I will put the ſame Queſtion to him.'’ He did ſo; and Mr. P—n anſwered, ‘'To be ſure a Man ought to write good Engliſh.'’ ‘'Nay, but his own Engliſh; I ſay his own; [119] what do you underſtand by that?'’ ‘'Why, Sir, ſaid he, what ſhould I un⯑derſtand?'’ ‘'P—x on you for a Dunce, ſaid he; were your Wife and you to ſit for a Fellowſhip, I would give her one ſooner than admit you a Sizar.'’

And now my Buſineſs was compleatly done. Mr. P—n viewed me with ſcornful, yet with jealous Eyes. And tho' I never preſumed to vye with him for Pre⯑eminence, well knowing he not only ſurpaſ⯑ſed me in natural Talents, but alſo had the Advantage of having thoſe Talents im⯑proved by Learning; and was ſenſible the Compliments I received were rather paid to me as a Woman, in whom any thing a Degree above Ignorance appears ſurpriz⯑ing, than to any Merit I really poſſeſſed; he thought proper to inſult me every Mo⯑ment. Indeed he did not beat me, which ſome of the good-natured Ladies have brought as an Argument that he was an ex⯑cellent Huſband; but how a Clergyman ſhould ſtrike a Wife, who never contra⯑dicted him, and who was the moſt remark⯑ably gentle, even of her own ſoft Sex, I [120] know not. Beſides, I had then a dear and honoured Father to protect me. I am ſure I may ſay with Ophelia,

Then was I left defenceleſs to all the In⯑juries my Huſband's ſubtle Cruelty could deviſe againſt open unſuſpecting Innocence.

Another trivial Accident alſo offended my Huſband. He was one Winter's Eve⯑ning reading Horace, and ſaid he would engage to write an Ode exactly in his Man⯑ner; ſo he directly ſet about it. The Fan⯑cy came into my Head to write one alſo, though I underſtood not a Word of Latin, nor knew no more of the Poet than from the Engliſh Tranſlations. My Lines were as follow:

As I had finiſhed my Taſk firſt, I ſhewed it to Mr. P—n, who, contrary to my Expectation, (for I imagined he would be pleaſed) was very angry, and told me the Dean had made me mad, that the Lines were Nonſenſe, and that a Needle became [122] a Woman's Hand better than a Pen and Ink. So to bring him into Temper I praiſed his Ode highly, and threw my own into the Fire. And here let me ſeriouſly adviſe every Lady, who has the Misfortune to be poetically turned, never to marry a Poet, but remember Swift's Lines:

And if a Man cannot bear his Friend ſhould write, much leſs can he endure it in his Wife; it ſeems to ſet them too much upon a Level with their Lords and Maſters; and this I take to be the true Reaſon why even Men of Senſe diſcountenance Learning in Women, and commonly chuſe for Mates the moſt illiterate and ſtupid of the Sex; and [123] then bleſs their Stars their Wife is not a Wit.

But if a Remark be true, which I have ſomewhere read, that a fooliſh Woman never brought forth a wiſe Son, I think the Gentle⯑men ſhould have ſome Regard to the Intel⯑lects of thoſe they eſpouſe.

But to return from this long tho' neceſſa⯑ry Digreſſion, and take things a little more in their Order. Mr. P—n, contrary to every body's Advice, who had any Re⯑gard for him, went for England. I was very deſirous of going with him; but he told me plainly he did not want ſuch an In⯑cumbrance as a Wife, and that he did not intend to paſs there for a married Man; and that in ſhort he could not taſte any Pleaſure where I was. As this was a Secret I did not know before, I received it with Aſto⯑niſhment; for amidſt all his wayward Moods, I ever imagined till then that he loved me, and that the many ill natured Speeches he made me were rather the Effect of a bad Temper, than any ſettled Averſion he had taken againſt me; eſpecially as I obſerved he treated every body with Con⯑tempt, [124] even Perſons every Way ſuperior to him (the Dean alone excepted, to whom he paid even a ſervile Complaiſance.) And tho' he now fairly plucked off the Maſk, and let me ſee my Miſtake, I could hardly give him Credit; ſo unwilling are we to believe Truth, when it runs counter to our Wiſhes.

The next Day he went on board the Yacht in Company with Mr. Edward Walpole, to whom he was recommended by a Man of Quality ſince dead, and left me and my three Children almoſt without an Adieu: So eagerly did he ſeek his own Deſtruction.

I am hardly able to deſcribe the various Emotions with which my Heart was agitated on his Departure. Love, Grief, and Re⯑ſentment for his laſt Speech, by Turns poſſeſſed it. However, I received a very kind Letter from him from Cheſter, which made me a little eaſy; and as my Friends ſeldom permitted me to be alone, I did not give much way to Melancholy.

I believe it will be expected from the general Reflections I have thrown out a⯑gainſt the Clergy, that I ſhould deſcend to [125] Particulars, and expoſe by Name the Guilty; but this invidious Taſk I muſt decline: Be⯑ſides, as Angelo ſays in Meaſure for Mea⯑ſure, when he is tempting a Virgin, and ſhe threatens to expoſe him;

Beſides, I ſhould arm a formidable Body againſt me, who would not fail, ſooner or later, to take ample Vengeance. As unfor⯑giving as a Churchman, is become prover⯑bial; ſo, as I am a Sort of a Prieſteſs, I will, like a faithful Mother-Confeſſor, keep the Secrets of my ghoſtly Brethren.

I have another Inducement to Silence, not I muſt own quite ſo good-natured, which is, that I have a malignant Pleaſure in keeping thoſe in Awe, who awe all the World beſide, which I ſhould loſe the Mo⯑ment [126] I had done my worſt. I remember a certain Gentleman, who happening to be guilty of a venial Tranſgreſſion with a mean Woman, it unluckily manifeſted itſelf: The Gentleman was young, and had a very ſevere Father, who gave him but a ſcanty Allowance, all of which did not ſatisfy the mercenary Wretch of a Woman, who hop⯑ing to gain more, went and told her Story to his Father; the Conſequence of which was, that ſhe never afterwards had a Shil⯑ling from either.

The Innocent cannot take Offence, and for the Guilty, I will for the preſent with the charitable Ghoſt in Hamlet,

[127]But once more to gather up my Clue. I received ſo paſſionately tender a Letter from London from Mr. P—n, that I quite forgot all his Unkindneſs; and ſit⯑ting down to anſwer it, without the leaſt Intention of Rhyming, the following Lines flowed from my Pen:

The Dean had given Mr. P—n Let⯑ters of Recommendation to ſeveral eminent Perſons in England, and amongſt the reſt, one to Mr. Pope; who, no ſooner received it, but he invited Mr. P—n to paſs a Fortnight with him at Twickenham, he not being yet entered on his Office of Chaplain. I received from him from thence a Letter filled with Mr. Pope's Praiſes, and the ex⯑traordinary Regard he ſhewed him, intro⯑ducing him to ſeveral Noblemen, and even oppreſſing him with Civilities, which he modeſtly attributed to Mr. Pope's Reſpect for the Dean, and handſomely acknowledg⯑ed the Obligation. As I thought this a very proper Letter to communicate, I went directly with it to the Deanery. The Dean read it over with a fix'd Attention, and re⯑turning it to me, he told me, he had, by the ſame Pacquet, received a Letter from Mr. Pope, which, with ſomewhat of a ſtern Brow, he put into my Hand, and walked [130] out into the Garden. I was ſo ſtartled at his Auſterity, that I was for ſome Minutes unable to open it, and when I did, the Con⯑tents greatly aſtoniſhed me. The Subſtance of it was, that he had, in pure Complai⯑ſance to the Dean, entertained Mr. P—n; but that he was ſurpriſed he ſhould be ſo miſtaken, to recommend him as a modeſt ingenious Man, who was a moſt forward, ſhallow, conceited Fellow: That in the Hope of having an agreeable Companion, he had invited him to paſs a Fortnight with him, which he heartily repented, being ſick of his Impertinence, before the End of the third Day; and a great deal more, much to the ſame Purpoſe. By the time I had read it thro', the Dean returned, and aſked me, what I thought of it? I told him, I was ſure Mr. P—n did not deſerve the Character Mr. Pope had given of him; and that he was highly ungenerous to careſs and abuſe him at the ſame time. Upon this the Dean loſt all Patience, and flew into ſuch a Rage, that he quite terrified me; he aſked me, Why I did not ſwear that my Huſband was ſix Foot high? And, Did I [131] think myſelf a better Judge than Mr. Pope? or, Did I preſume to give him the Lie? and a thouſand other Extravagancies. As I durſt not venture to ſpeak a Word more, my Heart ſwelled ſo that I burſt into Tears, which, he attributing to Pride and Reſent⯑ment, made him, if poſſible, ten times more angry, and I am not ſure he would not have beat me; but that, fortunately for me, a Gentleman came to viſit him. As I was in a violent Paſſion of Tears, the Dean did not bring him into the Room where I was, but went to receive him in another, and I gladly laid hold of that opportunity of making my eſcape from his Wrath.

The next Morning early I wrote him a Letter, expreſſive of the Anxiety I was un⯑der, leſt I had any way offended him; and aſſured him, which was Truth, my Tears did not flow from Pride, but from the Ap⯑prehenſion I had, that Mr. Pope might in⯑fluence him to withdraw his Favour from us. I added on my own Part, that even if I was partial to Mr. P—n, I hoped it was the moſt pardonable Error a Wife could be guilty of; and concluded with begging, if [132] he had any Regard for my Peace, he would honour me with an Anſwer. By the Re⯑turn of the Meſſenger I received the fol⯑lowing Lines:

[133]Accordingly I waited on the Dean about five o'Clock in the Evening, an Hour I knew he would be free from Company. He received me with great Kindneſs, and told me, he would write a Letter of Ad⯑vice to Mr. P—n; ‘'But, ſaid he, ſhould you acquaint him with this Letter of Pope's, he might, perhaps, reſent it to him, and make him an Enemy.'’ How kind! how conſiderate was this! The Dean then ſhewed me the Poem he wrote on his own Death; when I came to that Part of it,

I was ſo ſenſibly affected, that my Eyes filled with Tears: The Dean obſerving it, ſaid, ‘'Phoo, I am not dead yet—but you ſhall not read any more now.'’ I then earneſtly requeſted he would let me take it home with me, which he did on certain Conditions, which were, that I ſhould neither ſhew it to any body, nor copy it, and that I ſhould ſend it to him [134] by Eight o'Clock the next Morning; all which I punctually performed.

But the Dean did not know what ſort of a Memory I had, when he intruſted me with his Verſe: I had no occaſion for any other Copy, than what I had regiſtred in the Book and Volume of my Brain: I could repeat the whole Poem, and could not forbear delighting ſome particular Friends with a Rehearſal of it. This reached the Dean's Ear, who imagined I plaid him falſe, and ſent for me to come to him. When I entered, he told me, I had broke my Word with him, and conſequently for⯑feited all the good Opinion he had ever conceived of me. I looked, as I think he generally made me do, like a Fool; I aſked what I had done? He told me, I had copied his Poem, and ſhewn it round the Town. I aſſured him, I had not. He ſaid I lyed, and produced a Poem ſome⯑thing like it, publiſhed in London, and told me, from reading it about, that odd Bur⯑leſque on it had taken riſe. He bade me read it, aloud. I did ſo, and could not forbear laughing, as I plainly perceived, [135] tho' he had endeavoured to diſguiſe his Stile, that the Dean had burleſqued himſelf; and made no manner of ſcruple to tell him ſo. He pretended to be very angry, aſked me, did I ever know him write Triplets? and told me, I had neither Taſte nor Judgment, and knew no more of Poetry than a Horſe. I told him I would confeſs it, provided he would ſeriouſly give me his Word, he did not write that Poem. He ſaid, P—x take me for a Dunce. I then aſſured him, I did not copy his Poem; but added, when I read any thing peculiar⯑ly charming, I never forgot it; and that I could repeat not only all his Works, but all Shakeſpear's, which I put to this Trial; I deſired him to open any Part of it, and read a Line, and I would engage to go on with the whole Speech; as we were in his Library, he directly made the Experiment: The Line he firſt gave me, he had pur⯑poſely picked out for its ſingular Oddneſs:

[136] I readily went on with the whole Speech, and did ſo ſeveral times, that he tried me with different Plays. The Dean then took down Hudibras, and ordered me to examine him in it, as he had done me in Shakeſpear; and, to my great Surprize, I found he re⯑membered every Line, from Beginning to End of it. I ſay, it ſurprized me, becauſe I had been miſled by Mr. Pope's Remark,

To think Wit and Memory incompatible things. I told the Dean he had convinced me the old Proverb was falſe; and, indeed, I know not how any Perſon can be witty without a good Memory. When I returned home, I found I had not been miſtaken in the Opinion I had conceived, that the Dean had burleſqued his own Poem. I had a Confirmation of it in a Letter from Mr. P—n, to whom he had ſent it, to have it printed in London.

[137]My Evening's Chat with the Dean fur⯑niſhed me with Matter of Speculation on that moſt amazing Faculty of the human Mind, Memory; which, according to my uſual Cuſtom, I threw into Rhime, and hope it will not be diſpleaſing to my Reader.

My Reader may now plainly perceive, I was moſt incorrigibly devoted to Verſifying, and all my Spouſe's wholeſome Admoni⯑tions had no manner of Effect on me: In ſhort, I believe this ſcribbling Itch is an in⯑curable Diſeaſe; for tho' Horace ſays^*, taking ſome Phyſic in the Spring rid him [140] of it, yet, as he even relates this in flowing Numbers, we have no Cauſe to give him Credit. He alſo declares, all Poets are viſibly poſſeſſed, and mad. Shakeſpear ſeems to be of the ſame opinion, tho' he deſcribes it with greater Elegance than even Horace has done, at leaſt in the Tranſlation.

The Truth of which he has fully verified, giving us in his divine Works a new Crea⯑tion of his own, with a new Language alſo peculiar to the different Species and Orders of Beings he introduces to us. Milton had, ſtudied him with Care, and, like the Bee, committed many ſweet Thefts on his im⯑mortal Blooms. Whoever reads the Part [141] of the Fairies in the Midſummer Night's Dream, may eaſily perceive how many beautiful Images Milton has borrowed thence to adorn his Maſque of Comus. And really, I think, as Shakeſpear had plun⯑dered all Art and Nature, the viſible and inviſible World, it was but juſt to make Reprizals, and ſteal from his rich Store.

I hope my Reader will pardon me for ſo often running away from myſelf; I can⯑not ſay, I am Egotiſt enough to be much enamoured of ſuch an unhappy Theme, and have often wiſhed I could do it in rea⯑lity; for I have been plunged in ſuch Ca⯑lamity, that I have even thought it impoſ⯑ſible to be true, and vainly hoped to wake, as from ſome hideous Dream, to find a better Fate.

And as one travelling in a barren Waſte, could not be diſpleaſed to be ſometimes led out of the direct Road to view a more a⯑greeable Proſpect, I deal thus with my Readers, and turn them from the gloomy Vale of my Life, to relieve them with ſomething more pleaſing.

[142]To amuſe myſelf, [...]d indeed with no other View, I wrote, in my Huſband's Ab⯑ſence, all the following Poems; which, if they ſhould not happen alſo to amuſe my Readers, they are at their own Liberty, and may turn them over.

But however reluctantly I do it, I muſt return.

The following Ode of Horace bearing ſome Similitude to my then preſent Circum⯑ſtances, I took the Liberty of paraphraſing, and ſent it to my Huſband, notwithſtand⯑ing his former Lectures.

Mr. P—n, who loved me beſt at a Diſtance, wrote me a very kind Letter, wherein he told me my Verſes were like myſelf, full of Elegance and Beauty; that Mr. Pope and others, whom he had ſhewn them to, longed to ſee the Writer; and that he heartily wiſhed me in London. And this put the Fancy into my Head of going there; and as ſome of my Acquaintance intended for it, with whom I thought I could agreeably travel, I ſoon reſolved to accompany them.

Mr. P—n had been abſent nine Months; a tedious Time in a Lover's Reckoning. In three Months Time his Office expired; for every new Lord Mayor of London has a new Chaplain; ſo I thought I ſhould have the Pleaſure of paſſing the Winter in London, and then, if nothing bet⯑ter [154] offered, we ſhould return home toge⯑ther. London has very attractive Charms for moſt People, as our Iriſh Nobility and Gentry ſufficiently evidence, by ſpending the greateſt Part of their Time and Fortune there; and can it be wondered at, that a young lively Woman ſhould be fond of taking the only Opportunity ſhe might ever have of ſeeing its Magnificence in Perfec⯑tion. Well! but how to execute my Pro⯑ject; for I was apprehenſive if either my own Parents or Mr. P—n's were ac⯑quainted with it, they would prevent me; ſo I reſolved to make but one Confidante, which was a very faithful Servant, who in the Evening put my Portmanteau aboard the Yacht. Next Morning, the Wind being fair, I went, under Pretence of ſeeing my Friends ſafe aboard, down the River with them, and into the Ship as it were out of Curioſity; but being then out of Dan⯑ger of Purſuit, I told them my Intention, which ſome approved of, and ſome blamed [...] However, as I did not queſtion a kind Re⯑ception from my Huſband, and knew my Children would be well taken care of by m [...] [155] Parents, I was very chearful and eaſy, and little regarded what was thought of my Frolick; neither could I divine that any evil Conſtruction would be put upon it.

We had a very ſafe Paſſage, and a plea⯑ſant Journey. I wrote to Mr. P—n from Parkgate, and he and Mr. W—e met me about four Miles Diſtance from London. So I took leave of my Fellow-Travellers for the preſent, and went into the Coach to them, which drove to Mr. W—le's. Mr. P—n received me very obligingly, and called me his little Fu⯑gitive and Run-away; but a Stranger would have thought Mr. W—le was my Huſ⯑band, he welcomed me ſo kindly, and paid me ſo many Compliments. As I had been up at three o'Clock in the Morning, I was heartily fatigued, and deſired Mr. P—n to take leave; but he whiſpered me to in⯑vite Mr. W—le home to Supper with us, which accordingly I did; and he was ſo tranſported with this Civility, he could not conceal his Joy; whatever I commended amongſt his Paintings, he would force me to accept of; and putting as many Bottles [156] of Wine into the Coach-Box as it would conveniently hold, we went to Mr. P—n's Lodging, which I found very handſome and convenient. Wine and good Chear enter⯑tained us till Midnight to our mutual Satis⯑factions.

When Mr. P—n and I were alone, he told me, that tho' he was very glad to ſee me, he was afraid I would have but a lonely Time of it in London, he being ob⯑liged to attend on the Lord Mayor, from Nine in the Morning till Six in the Eve⯑ning, and from thence he always went to the Play, and afterwards to Supper to Mrs. Heron, one of the Actreſſes, of no very good Fame. Though I thought this but an odd Manner of Life for a Clergyman, I did not ſay ſo, being unwilling to offend him. I had heard it whiſpered, that he liked this Woman, but I reſolved patient⯑ly to wait the Event.

The next Day, when he was going out, I put him in Mind that Mr. W—le ſaid he would paſs the Evening with us; but he laughed at my believing it; and ſaid he was a Man ſo uncertain in his Temper, that per⯑haps [157] I might never ſee him again while I lived. Juſt then a Lady who came over with me, called on us; and Mr. P—n and ſhe had ſome private Chat. When ſhe was gone he told me, ſhe had brought him a Letter and ſome Poetry from the Dean, which he had ordered him to diſpoſe of, and put the Money in his own Pocket; as he could not ſtay to read them, he took them with him to the Lord Mayor's.

However, Mr. P—n was miſtaken in imagining Mr. W—le would fail in his Appointment; he came and told me Mr. P—n was at the Play, but would ſup with us. He made uſe of his Abſence to compliment me at an unmerciful Rate, and ſung me all the tendereſt Love Songs he could think of in the moſt pathetic Manner: In ſhort, he exerted his Talents to entertain me, and behaved himſelf ſo much in the Stile of a Lover, that had I not been married, I ſhould have imagined, he intended to addreſs me. When Mr. P—n returned, he told him, he was certainly the happieſt Man living, and won⯑dered how he could be a Moment out of [158] my Company, where he could ſtay for ever. Mr. P—n ſeemed much pleaſed with his Gallantry, and ſaid, he hoped I would induce him to ſee us often. When we were alone, he told me, he believed his Friend was in love with me. I anſwered, if he thought ſo, I wondered he gave him ſo warm an Invitation. He ſaid, he was a very generous Man, and that his liking to me, if well managed, might prove very profitable; for he valued no Expence where a Lady was in the Caſe. So, it ſeems, I was to be the Bait, wherewith he was to angle for Gold out of a Rival's Pocket: A Scheme which had a twofold Proſpect of Gain annexed to it; for while a Lover has Hope, he ſeldom quits the Chace; and will even thank the Huſband, for taking the friendly Freedom of uſing his Purſe; and yet ſhould the Gallant be detected in taking any friendly Freedoms with the Wife in return, the Law is all againſt him, Da⯑mages and Impriſonment muſt enſue. Which Conſideration may ſerve as a Warn⯑ing to all Men, not to invade Properties, or commit wilful Treſpaſs on their Neigh⯑bour's Ground.

[159]If my Readers are by this Time the leaſt acquainted with my Spirit, they may judge, I looked on this Project with the Contempt it deſerved; however I promiſed Complaiſance, which indeed Mr. W—le's ſeeming Merits might well deſerve. The next Day I was invited to the Lord Mayor's, who, on account of the reſolute Oppoſition he had given to the Exciſe Act, was the Darling of the People. He was but indiffe⯑rent as to his Perſon, or rather homely than otherwiſe; but he had an excellent Under⯑ſtanding, and the Livelineſs of his Genius ſhone in his Eyes, which were very black and ſparkling. He always treated me with great Complaiſance, and gave me a general Invitation to his Table. As the Lord Mayor was a Batchelor, he had a Gentle⯑woman who managed his Houſhold Af⯑fairs, and who, except on public Days, did the Honours of his Table. Mr. P—n told me ſhe was violently in love with him, and was ready to run mad upon hearing I was come to London. How true this might be I know not; but as ſhe was very civil to me, and was old enough to [160] be my Mother, I was not the leaſt diſturb⯑ed with Jealouſy on her own Account; tho' I can't help ſaying, ſhe gave me a great deal of Uneaſineſs, by relating to me many Inſtances of my Huſband's extraor⯑dinary Regard for the Player afore-men⯑tioned: We went together to the Play on Purpoſe to ſee her; and to do her Juſtice, ſhe was a graceful, fine Woman; at leaſt ſhe appeared ſuch on the Stage, and had a peculiar Skill in dreſſing to Advantage. Mr. P—n and Mr. W—le were at the Play; they met us going out, and Mr. P—n committed me to the Care of his Friend, who had a Coach waiting to convey me home; but Mr. P—n went to his old Rendezvous to the Actreſs, to my very great Mortification; becauſe I really preferred his Converſation to any other in the World: However, he was ſo com⯑plaiſant, he uſed every Evening to ſend Mr. W—le to keep me Company, while he purſued his Pleaſures; and, as I ſhall an⯑ſwer it to Heaven, he did every thing in his power to forward and encourage an Amour between his Friend and me.

[161]One Inſtance, out of an hundred I could produce, I ſubmit to the impartial Judgment of my Reader. One of the young Ladies, at whoſe Houſe I firſt ſaw Mr. P—n, happening to be in London, and but in low Circumſtances, came to viſit me; ſhe in⯑ſiſted on my paſſing the next Evening with her, and juſt as I was going Mr. W—le came in, and offered to accompany me, to which I gladly conſented, hoping as he was then a Man of Intereſt, he might recom⯑mend her to ſome good Family, as a Go⯑verneſs to Children, or a Lady's Woman, when he knew how well qualified ſhe was for either Place. As her Spirit was far a⯑bove her Ability, I was concerned to ſee what Expence ſhe had put herſelf to for my Reception, having provided a very genteel Supper, to which ſhe would oblige us to ſtay. While ſhe was giving Orders for it, I informed Mr. W—le of her Diſtreſs, who immediately gave me a Gui⯑nea for her, but entreated I would give it to her as Preſent from my ſelf, which, as I knew it was the only Method to make her accept of it, I did.

[162]When I came home, I related to Mr. P—n Mr. W—le's obliging and ge⯑nerous Behaviour; but little was he pleaſed with the Recital: What could I think of him, when he told me, I did very ill to in⯑troduce a new Woman to him, i. e. Mr. W—le; and that he hoped I would loſe him; and that henceforth he would beſtow his Favours on her? A Speech more pro⯑per for the Mouth of one of thoſe aban⯑doned Wretches, who live by the Sale of the Innocent, than for a Huſband, a Gen⯑tleman, and one who ought to be a Chriſ⯑tian. But I believe he was of Opinion that

And, provided he ſold me well, and put Money in his Purſe, little regarded either my temporal or eternal Happineſs.

Another Inſtance either of his extraor⯑dinary Confidence in my Fidelity to him, or rather Indifference about it, was, that [163] he obliged me to go alone with his Friend to Windſor, though, as it was Winter, there was no Poſſibility of going there and returning the ſame Day, it being twenty Miles diſtant from London; ſo that we had not only two Days, but a Night alſo, to paſs together. Could any Huſband be more obliging to his Rival, than to give him ſuch an Opportunity to accompliſh his Wiſhes? Had mine but concurred, I had then been undone; for truly the Gentleman tried eve⯑ry Argument to win me to them, but in vain. My Huſband's Miſconduct in expoſ⯑ing me to ſuch Temptation, ſtung me to the Quick; nay, I could not help believ⯑ing they were both in a Plot to betray me to Ruin; and as we were at the top Inn in the Town, I ſtarted at every Noiſe of Horſemen who ſtopped there; and con⯑cluded, though falſly I believe, that Mr. W—le had given Mr. P—n a Di⯑rection where to find us; and as this Ima⯑ginatlion wholly poſſeſſed me, I little re⯑garded either the Elegance of our Enter⯑tainment, or the Tenderneſs and Paſſion the Gentleman expreſſed in every Word [164] and Look: His ſoft Endearments were all loſt on one who regarded him as an Enemy. I was obſtinately ſullen, and pretended Wea⯑rineſs, on purpoſe to quit his Company; but I loſt all Patience, when calling to the Maid to ſhew me to my Chamber, I found there was but one, nay, and but one Bed too, provided for two Gueſts; for, it ſeems, my Gentleman had ſo ordered it, hoping, no doubt, to ſupply my Huſband's Place.

I was now in a manner convinced, there was Treachery intended againſt me, and re⯑proached my deſiring Swain in ſuch bitter Terms, that he had no Way to prove his Innocence, but by retiring, tho' very re⯑luctantly, to another Apartment; and I took ſpecial Care to barricade my own, not only double-locking it, but alſo placing all the Chairs and Tables againſt the Door to prevent a Poſſibility of being ſurprized.

I roſe very early next Morning to take a Survey of what Curioſities Windſor afforded, as it was too late the Night before to ſee any thing; but found nothing worth Ob⯑ſervation, except the Caſtle, whoſe emi⯑nent Situation and Gothick Grandeur, might [165] very well, ſome Ages ago, make it eſ⯑teemed a Non-pareil: But as it has frequent⯑ly been deſcribed and celebrated, I ſhall only ſay, that conſidering it as the Palace of the Edwards and Henrys, I was touched with ſomething like a religious Veneration for it, which no modern Building could inſpire me with.

Mr. W—le attended me with great Reſpect, and excepting that he tenderly re⯑proached me with what he called my Cruel⯑ty the Night before, gave me no farther Cauſe of Diſpleaſure, but brought me ſafely home in his Chaiſe to Mr. P—n.

But pray, gentle Reader, ſuppoſe it had happened otherwiſe; that Night-Solitude, an agreeable and importunate Lover, ſhould have prevailed on human, yielding Frailty, whom could my Huſband ſo properly have blamed for it as himſelf? He who beſt knew our Frames, bids us avoid Tempta⯑tion, as the ſureſt Method, nay and per⯑haps the only one of avoiding Sin; for who ſo firm that may not be ſeduced? Why then ſhould he, Mr. P—n, drive me [166] into the Toils, unleſs he meant to have me made a Prey of?

I fairly confeſs this Action greatly ſunk him in my Eſteem; nay, it even did the ſame in Mr. W—le's, eſpecially as he reaped no Satisfaction by it. I could ſcarce⯑ly after regard Mr. P—n as a Huſ⯑band; but rather as a Man whoſe Proper⯑ty I was, and who would gladly diſpoſe of me to the beſt Bidder. Shocking Thought!

And yet this Scheme was ſo artfully ma⯑naged, as indeed all his againſt me have ever been, that I could not well reproach him for it; for he would have alledged, it was a Party of Pleaſure intended by him for my Health and Recreation; and to have mentioned Mr. W—le's Attempt, why, to ſay the Truth, I looked upon it as a Thing which any Man in the ſame Circumſtances might naturally be guilty of, even tho' he had no previous liking to, or Thought of the Woman. So, as there was no Harm done, I judged it moſt prudent to be ſilent. Beſides, no Faults are ſo ea⯑ſily pardoned by our Sex, as thoſe we be⯑lieve to be occaſioned by our own Charms, [167] the eager Lover's conſtant Excuſe, and which our Vanity is but too apt to admit as a reaſonable one.

Of all Things in Nature, I moſt wonder why Men ſhould be ſevere in their Cenſures on our Sex, for a Failure in Point of Chaſti⯑ty: Is it not monſtrous, that our Seducers ſhould be our Accuſers? Will they not em⯑ploy Fraud, nay, often Force to gain us? What various Arts, what Stratagems, what Wiles will they uſe for our Deſtruction? but that once accompliſhed, every oppro⯑brious Term with which our Language ſo plentifully abounds, ſhall be beſtowed on us, even by the very Villains who have wronged us.

I am ſure the whole Female Sex will join with me in a hearty Amen.

[168]Mr. P—n's Year of Chaplainſhip being near expired, I hoped that he would return to I [...]eland; but he had entertained a Belief that Mr. Walpole would provide for him, and therefore determined to ſtay in London, ſo I was forced to return ſingle; for as Mr. P—n's Income ceaſed with his Office, he choſe to accept of an Offer from Mr. W—le to lodge in his Houſe. For ſeveral Reaſons I thought it moſt pro⯑per to reviſit my native Country; the firſt and chief was the Affection I bore to my dear little ones; the next, to avoid both the Temptation and Scandal I muſt have ſuffered, by going into the Houſe of a Perſon, who, with regard to Women, had an avowedly diſſolute Character.

But however cautiouſly and prudently I acted in this Affair, it was not my good Fortune to eſcape Calumny; ſo far from it, that I was both traduced for going to London, and for returning from it; and the Wife of a certain B—, who invited me to dine with her a Day or two after my Return to Dublin, when we retired to our Tea, abuſed me in Language I ſhould have [169] ſcorned, in reſpect to my own Gentility, to have given to the meaneſt Servant I was ever Miſtreſs of: And becauſe my Huſ⯑band had made me a Preſent of a few little Trinkets, all of which in the Expence amounted but to a Trifle, told me ſhe was ſure ſome Gallant had given them to me. But, as I have ſince been informed, ſhe was ragingly jealous of me, although without any Reaſon, I can the more readi⯑ly pardon her inhuman Treatment of me.

But as I did not chuſe to bear Re⯑proaches I did not deſerve, I ſent for a Chair, and, burſting into Tears, left the Room. In the Hall I met the B—, who was coming to drink Tea with the Ladies: He was ſurprized to ſee me ſo diſordered, and tenderly laying hold of me, enquired the Cauſe. I deſired he would aſk his Lady, who had invited me, to uſe me ill: Which he ſaid, he hoped ſhe would not do, even in Regard to my Condition (being then pregnant). But, Heaven knows! had he but conſidered how cruel all barren Creatures naturally are, inſomuch that I have ſeen a barren Ewe [170] attempt to kill a young Lamb; he would rationally have judged what might have, even in Law, been my Protection, was the very Cauſe of her Hatred and Diſpleaſure to me.

However, as this Lady was the firſt to attack my Character, I can do no leſs than return her theſe my public and grateful Acknowledgments; for though perhaps half the World cannot tell whom I mean; yet as it is more than probable the Perſon concerned may read over theſe Memoirs, ſhe at leaſt will know her own Portrait.

'Tis really a ſad Misfortune, that the honeſt Liberty of the Preſs is ſo ſuppreſſed in Ireland: But, however, I promiſe all my Subſcribe [...]s to oblige them with a Key to whatever Secrets I have been obliged to lock up; and many I have been obliged to ſtrike out of my Work, otherwiſe I could never have had a ſingle Line printed.

Vice in Power will command at leaſt an outward Homage; and helpleſs Poverty dare not either oppoſe or expoſe it.

A few Days after my Return to Ireland, Sir Daniel Molineux ſaid in French to my [171] Brother in St. Ann's Church, that he was ſurpriſed to ſee me look ſo chearful, conſi⯑dering my Huſband was in the Baſtile. My Bro [...]her told it to me; but for my Life I could not gueſs what the Gentleman meant.

But too ſoon I was informed by the News-Papers, that Mr. P—n, Mr. Motte, and Mr. Gilliver, were all taken up on account of ſome treaſonable Poetry, which Mr. P—n had given to the two latter to print; I then recollected the Papers afore⯑mentioned, delivered to him by one of my Female Fellow-Travellers.

Who was the Informer I know not, both Parties having violently accuſed each other; but in my Soul I believe Mr. P—n was innocent, and I am ſure I have no Rea⯑ſon to be partial to him. But certain it is, his Character ſuffered ſo much that it al⯑moſt broke my Heart, as it deprived me of any Hopes even of his having Bread for his Family. The Notion of his having betrayed Dr. Swift incenſed the whole Kingdom of Ireland againſt him; and as I did not for many Weeks receive a Letter from him, I knew not how to juſtify him; [172] and when called upon by the late Primate (Dr. Hoadly) to give him an Account of the Affair, I could only anſwer him with Tears, which, as both he and his Lady were exceedingly humane, pleaded his Cauſe as powerfully as the moſt moving Eloquence could have done; his Grace bade me be comforted, and write to my Huſ⯑band to come over and mind his Duty, and he would ſtill be a Friend to him; and generouſly added, that as many Per⯑ſons buſied themſelves in bringing Stories to him to Mr. P—n's Diſadvantage, I ſhould be welcome to his Table every Day, which would diſcountenance thoſe who endeavoured to prejudice him, when they ſaw it did not make him or his Spouſe withdraw their Regard from me.

His Grace's Goodneſs affected me ſo much, that my Tears of Sorrow were converted to thoſe of Gratitude; nor could I forbear falling on my Knees to pay my Acknowledgments to him and his friendly Lady, for the Relief their Kindneſs had given to a Heart overcome with Anguiſh.

[173]At length I received a Letter from Mr. P—n, which he was obliged to in⯑cloſe to a Gentleman for me, otherwiſe it would have been carried to the Caſtle, and there examined; ſo great Notice was taken of theſe Poems. He wrote me word he had been ill of the Rheumatiſm, and in great Trouble; that he would directly return to Ireland, but that he had not Money to bear his Expences. I made an Application to my Father for him, who bade me let the Fellow go to the Weſt-Indies, and he would take care of me and the Children. But, unfortunately for me, I had too much Good-nature to take this wholeſome Advice; ſo far from it, that I never ceaſed importuning him, but fol⯑lowed him from Morning till Night, like Niobe all Tears, till he give me a Bill of twenty Pounds to ſend to him, with which he came over to Ireland; but ſo pale and dejected, that he looked like the Ghoſt of his former ſelf; and the Diſregard he met with from every body went very near his Heart. Every Day there was a new Abuſe publiſhed on him; my Father battled for [174] him, and I did every thing in my power to chear and comfort his Spirits. Com⯑paſſion wrought now the ſame Effects on me, as Love had done heretofore; and as he frequently wept, I could not forbear mingling my Tears with his; and, by way of Conſolation, wrote to him the follow⯑ing Lines.

I ſhould not have dwelt ſo long on every trivial Circumſtance had I not been ſtrangely traduced about this Affair, which, as I ſhall anſwer it to God, I have related with the utmoſt Truth and Exactneſs. I never had any Breach with Mr. P—n till our final Separation; and I am ſure if my Father had ſuſpected me of any Diſ⯑honour, he would ſooner have joined with my Huſband to proſecute me, than have [176] given him a ſingle Shilling to make up Matters between us.

Neither can I really imagine what I had done to merit all the cruel and ſcandalous Aſperſions thrown on me, eſpecially by the Ladies: It would be infinite Vanity to ſup⯑poſe Envy had any Share in their gentle Breaſts; or that the Praiſes I received from the other Sex, on Account of my Writings, awaked their Diſpleaſure againſt me: For though

But what I think moſt ſurpriſing, is, that Women, who have ſuffered in their own Reputations, are generally moſt cruel in their Cenſures on others. I could men⯑tion a Lady, who was ſo fond of a cer⯑tain Colonel, that when he died, ſhe was almoſt mad, though he was a married Man; and yet ſhe was heedful of the main Chance, in prevailing on him to leave her his Eſtate from his Wife, whoſe Brother's Eſtate ſhe had before ſecured to [177] herſelf, he being married to her. I re⯑member this Lady the whole Town-talk of Dublin, and yet, by having a large ill⯑got Fortune, ſhe procured a ſecond Huſ⯑band, commenced Prude, though not till Youth and Beauty were fled, and is, if ſhe yet lives, one of the bittereſt Eenmies to any Woman, who has ever committed even an Act of Indiſcretion, that can be found in the World, as I have proved many Years ago by woful Experience.

But enough of this. When Mr. P—n was once more ſettled in his Cure, I being very much inclined to a Decay, my Father ſaid, nothing would more effectually re⯑ſtore my Health than the Country; ſo having often been invited to his Brother's at Cork, I reſolved on going there for a few Months, where I was very kindly re⯑ceived. We took the Diverſions of the Seaſon at Mallow, where nothing remark⯑able happened to me, except that one [178] Gentleman there took it into his Head to do, what they there call black-guard me inceſſantly. It was the reigning Humour of the Place, amongſt the young Folks, to call Names, ſell Bargains, and ſome⯑times talk indecently, all of which I ab⯑horred, and therefore this Gentleman ſingled me out as a Mark for this Sort of Wit; and the more he found it vexed me, the more he perſiſted in it. At laſt, I very ſeriouſly demanded of him, what I had done to provoke him to teize me in the manner he did? He ſaid, he heard I was a Wit; and wiſhed I would write a Satire on him. So, to oblige him, I ſent him the following Lines, which obtained me a Truce from his anti-ſublime Conceits.

And here, gentle Reader, I muſt bid you take leave of the Hope of any farther chearful Amuſement; here commences the [181] mournfulleſt Tale which ever yet was either told or read.

The Winter's Return brought me to Dublin. My Huſband met me about a Mile from Town, and took me and my Aunt Van Lewen's Siſter, who came to Town with me, out of the Stage-Coach into a Hackney one. He entertained me with an Account of a violent Quarrel he had with my Father; and ſaid, he hoped, if I had any Regard for him, I would never go with inſide his Doors. This was a ſtrange Command, and as ſtrange did it appear to me, that he ſhould quarrel with the beſt natured Gentleman in the World; his Father in Effect, as he treated him as his Son! I told him, I hoped he would excuſe my once diſobeying him; for I owed, if poſſible, a ſuperior Duty to my Father, than a Huſband could claim. Mr. P—n was very angry. This was on Thurſday Night: The next Morning, at all Hazards, I went to wait on my Father, who received me with a Coldneſs, which ſtruck me to the Heart. I aſked him, if I had any way offended him? He ſaid, [182] Mr. P—n had uſed him ſo ill, he did not deſire to ſee his Wife. ‘'Dear Sir (ſaid I) am I not your Daughter?'’ ‘'Yes, (ſaid he) and had you taken my Advice in letting the Villain go to the Weſt-Indies, I ſhould have regarded you as ſuch; but, make much of him; and remember, the Hour will come, when you will wiſh you had followed your Father's Counſel.'’ My Aunt's Siſter was with me, to whom he never once ſpoke, but walked to and fro in a ſort of a diſtracted Manner, and looked ſo ill, that, imagining my Preſence diſturbed him, I aſked him where my Mother was? He ſaid, ſhe was gone to take the Air; and that he had Company to dine with him, ſo that he could not aſk me to ſtay. I took the Hint, and departed from him, in ſuch inconceivable Sorrow, as I never in my Life experienced before, becauſe I really loved him more than any thing in the World.

I paſſed the Remainder of the Day in Tears, for my Huſband never came home till Twelve o'Clock at Night; ſo that I [183] had full Liberty to indulge my Sorrow. I ſent my Compliments on Friday and Satur⯑day Morning to my Parents; they anſwer⯑ed, they were very well; but they neither aſked me to come to them, nor came to me.

On Sunday I was invited to Dinner to Mr. Dubourg's. I found myſelf ſo ill, that I could not go to Church; however, about Two o'Clock, I went to dine with my Friends, who looked on me with as much Surprize as if they had ſeen an Ap⯑parition. They had no ſooner ſeated me, but they both went out of the Room, and held a long Conſultation at the Door: Little did I think how deeply I was con⯑cerned in it. At length Mrs. Dubourg came in: I tenderly reproached her with her Coldneſs to me: She ſaid, ſhe was not well; and aſked me, had I heard from Moleſworth-ſtreet that Day? I told her, I had not. She aſked me, if Mr. P—n would come to Dinner? I told her, he was engaged to preach at St. Peter's Church in the Afternoon, and therefore went to Mrs. Warren's, where they dined early. [184] A little while after, Counſellor Smith came in; but they called him out, and held a long Conference with him. In ſhort, every body behaved themſelves ſo oddly to me, that I knew not what to make of it.

Juſt as Dinner was ſerved up, Mr. P—n came in: ‘'My Dear (ſaid I) you are bet⯑ter than Promiſe.'’ ‘'Why (ſays he) I am not come to dine, but to tell you your Father is ſtabbed.'’ Had he plunged a Dagger in my Heart, it could not have given me a deeper Wound.

It ſeems, this Accident, for ſuch my Fa⯑ther declared it to be, happened at Nine o'Clock in the Morning; and ſo unkind were my Mother and Siſter, they never ſent me the leaſt Notice of it. The Company I went to, had known of it ſome Hours before; and conſequently were ſurprized to find me ignorant of what ſo nearly concerned me, and what, by that Time, all Dublin knew. None of them could find in their Hearts to tell me of it; and this was the Occaſion of the many Conſultations they held, which had appeared ſo ſtrange to me. It would be tedious to my Readers, to relate every [185] Difficulty I had even to ſee my Father. In reſpect to the Aſhes of my Mother, I do not chuſe to tell how ill I was uſed upon this Occaſion; but as I owe no ſort of Re⯑ſpect or Ceremony to my Siſter, (if I may call her one, who by no means deſerves that Title) I muſt proceed. I roſe from the Table, had a Chair called, and went to my Father's: Three of the Servants ſat in the Hall, and my Siſter, exceſſively dirty, walked to and fro in it. She would wil⯑lingly have kept me out; but however, the Servant knowing me, opened the Door. The firſt Noiſe which ſtruck my Ear, upon my Entrance, was the deep and piercing Groans of my dear Father. When I at⯑tempted to go up Stairs to offer my Duty to him, my Siſter by Violence pulled me down; but the Agony I was in for my Fa⯑ther, and the Reſentment I conceived at her groſs Uſage of me, ſupplied me with Strength to get up in deſpight of her. When I opened the Dining-room Door, the Floor was all beſmeared with Blood; my Mother, in an arbitrary Voice, aſked me, what Buſineſs I had there? I told her, [186] I had a Child's Right to pay my Duty to my Father. She ſaid, if I ſpoke to him it would kill him. Upon which, for the firſt, and indeed the only Time that ever I gave her an impertinent Anſwer; I ſaid, that if every Perſon about my Father had loved him with half my Tenderneſs, he would not have been reduced to the Con⯑dition I was then too ſure he was in. Upon this, I offered to go into the Bed-chamber, but was not only forcibly withſtood, but even beaten by my Mother, and again aſked, if I intended to kill my Father? I made her no Reply but ſat down, and aſ⯑ſured her, that the firſt Perſon who opened that Door I would go in. In about three Minutes time Dr. Cope, Dr. Helſham, Mr. Nicholls, and in all ſeven Phyſicians and three Surgeons (as my Father was univer⯑ſally eſteemed) came of their own Accord to viſit him; when I heard them on the Stairs, I took that Opportunity to open the Bed-chamber Door, in which neither my Mother nor my Siſter could well op⯑poſe me, as the Gentlemen were come into the Dining-room, before they were appriſed [187] of my Intention; but, Heavens! how ſhall I deſcribe the Agony that ſeized me, when I beheld my dear Father pale as Death, and unable to utter any thing but Groans? thoſe only who have loved a Father as well as I did mine, can judge of my Condition: I kneeled down by the Bedſide: Weak as he was he kindly reached out his Hand to me: He aſbed me if this was not an un⯑happy Accident. I begged he would not ſpeak, becauſe Mr. Nicholls had told me, his Lungs were wounded, and that every Word was detrimental to him; but as I had not ever knowingly offended him, I begged he would give me leave to pay my Duty to him, and that he would ſignify it, by laying his Hand on my Head, which he not only did, but deſired I would not leave him. But here my Father gave me an impoſſible Taſk; for no ſooner were the Gentlemen departed, but my Mother ſaid ſhe muſt ſpeak with me; and whether ſhe was really mad, or counterfeited to be ſo, I know not; but ſhe inſiſted on my going to Bed with her, alledging that my Siſter was younger and ſtronger than I, [188] and better able to bear the Fatigue of ſitting up. This ſeemed to carry the Appearance of Love and Tenderneſs; but Heaven knows it was far otherwiſe, as I afterwards found out; for the three following Days my Mother never permitted me to leave her; if I ever attempted it, ſhe tore her Hair, and ſcreamed like a Lunatick. The fourth Night I heard my Father ring a Bell, my Mother was aſleep, and as my Thoughts were ever on him, I ran down Stairs to him undreſt as I was. He ſeemed ſurprized to ſee me, having been told that I was in my own Houſe, and would not un⯑dertake the Trouble of attending him. I found him in a very cold Sweat; it ſud⯑denly came into my Head, that if I could change that into a hot one, it might, per⯑haps, relieve him. So after aſſuring him, that I had not quitted him, nor had ever been out of the Houſe, but was prevented by my Mother and Siſter from attending on him, he ſaid he was very dry, and aſked me, what the Phyſicians had ordered for him to drink. As they all concluded he would not out-live that Night, they had ordered [189] nothing, but left him to take what he pleaſed, as, in ſpight of all Precautions to the contrary, I had overheard. Upon this, I reſolved ſo far to turn Phyſician myſelf as to tell him, they ordered him to drink ſome Hock and Sack made warm. Weak as he was he could not forbear ſmiling, and ſaying, he never heard of ſuch another Preſcription; ‘'Ten Gentlemen meet to order me ſome Hock and Sack mixed! ſaid he; well, give it me: it muſt certainly be a Cure for a pleuretick Fever.'’ I did ſo; nay, I not only gave it to him that Time, but plied him with it every Time he called for Drink all Night, till it produced the Effect I deſired, and threw him into a fine breathing Sweat, and a deep Sleep. It may now be demanded, where my Siſter was all this Time? why, as ſhe had not, if I may ſpeak my Mind, half the Regard for my Father that I had, ſhe was faſt aſleep in the Arm-Chair, nor could he awake her.

When the Phyſicians came in the Morn⯑ing, they were agreeably ſurprized to find my Father's Fever quite gone, and his Eyes [190] look very lively; he told them, their merry Preſcription had done him gre [...] [...]rvice. I winked at them not to undeceive him; they underſtood me, and Dr. Helſham called me aſide, under Pretence of giving me ſome Directions, but in reality, to en⯑quire of me what I had adminiſtered. I told him, and he could not forbear ſmiling. He called the Gentlemen into the next Room to a Conſultation, to which preſent⯑ly after I was ſummoned. As both Dr. Hel⯑ſham and Dr. Cope were Men of Wit and Pleaſantry, they rallied me agreeably on preſuming to practiſe Phyſick, having never taken my Degrees; and aſſured me I ſhould be called before the College of Phyſicians, and be proſecuted as an Empyrick.

I roſe up, and making a low Courteſy, I told them, as the beſt Part of the College of Phyſicians were then preſent, they would, I hoped, have Candour enough to permit me to make my own Defence; to which they all aſſented by a gracious Nod, and bade me proceed; I then, making another Reverence, told them, that as to my Right of practiſing Phyſick, I held it extra ju⯑dice, [191] and ſmiling ſaid, I ſuppoſed they all underſtood Latin—but as their proper Buſineſs was to deſtroy Life, I hoped they would not take it amiſs, if I for once, in a Caſe which ſo nearly and deeply concern⯑ed me, had, to the utmoſt of my power, fruſtrated their Deſigns; neither had I pre⯑ſumed to interfere, till they themſelves had aſſured me all Hope of my Father's Life was gone, and that he could not live till Morning. But, ſaid I, making another Courteſy, I, with all reſpect to this ho⯑nourable Board, humbly preſume to believe,

Nothing, except my Father's being ſo very weak, and ſo very near to us, could have prevented the Gentlemen's laughing hearti⯑ly at my fine Harangue. However, I was diſmiſſed with Honour; and as my Father ſeemed now to want nothing but Reſtora⯑tives, I was directed to make him ſome Viper Broth, Hartſhorn Jelly, Chocolate, and other nouriſhing Aliments.

[192]From this Time we entertained Hopes of my Father's Recovery. In a few Days he was ſo ſtrong as to be able to ſit up from Morning till Night. The whole Town ſeemed to participate in our Joy; and many who had never viſited him before, came now to congratulate him and his Fa⯑mily on this happy Change. Whether it was owing to his having ſeen too much Company, or to his own over-Neatneſs in inſiſting on having his Chamber cleaned, I know not; but I received a Meſſage from Mr. P—n, that he was taken very ill, and deſired to ſee me. As I had flattered myſelf my Father was out of Danger, I obeyed the Commands of my Huſband, and prevailed on Mr. Nicholls to come to viſit him. He had got a Cold, and was a little feveriſh; Mr. Nicholls thought pro⯑per to take a little Blood from him, and I ſtaid with him that Night and Part of the enſuing Day. Mr. P—n being much relieved, gave me leave in the Evening to go to my Father's, where I found all Things in Confuſion, and he ſo ill that there was now not the leaſt Hope of his [193] Recovery: He coughed inceſſantly, was ſeized with what they call a galloping Con⯑ſumption, and in a very few Days after expired, leaving me in inconceivable Sor⯑row. About an Hour before he departed, I left the Room being unable to ſee his laſt Agonies, and went up to my Mother, who was as faſt locked up in Sleep as guiltleſs Labour. Some time after I heard the Windows thrown up, by which I knew his mortal Cares were ended.

We had that Evening engaged a Nurſe Keeper, but did not dare to let her into my Father's Preſence, leſt he ſhould ſay, as he once did, on propoſing ſuch a thing, that we were tired of him; but now her Aſſiſtance was abſolutely neceſſary, tho' my Siſter told me, ſhe herſelf helped to waſh and lay my Father out. I am ſure I could have died ſooner; but ſome Perſons have uncommon Courage, or rather, as Swift obſerves,

[194]About three o'Clock in the Morning, on New-Year's-Day, my Siſter came into the Room, and deſired me to come and help her to take my Father up, that he wanted to riſe. Tho' I was certain he was dead, as I had not taken off my Cloaths, I went with her, and ſent in the Maid to ſit by my Mother. I aſked my Siſter on the Stairs, was my Father alive? She anſwered, No. So with a heavy Heart I went into the Dining-Room; but by no means could I ſummon up ſufficient Spirits, to look upon the clay-cold Figure of him, who, under God, was the Author of my Being. My Heart fluttered; my Tongue refuſed it's Office; neither had I the poor Relief of Tears—no Wonder, when the very Spring and Fountain of my Life was ſtopt—the very Source of it was ſtopped, if the Streams thereon dependant, were for a while froze up and dead.

While I was loſt in melancholy-muſing, my Siſter was very induſtrious in making the Tea-Kettle boil. I do not ſay this by way of Reflection on her; for tho' I was leſs aſſiduous about it, my own Mouth was [195] perfectly parched with Thirſt, and I was very glad of ſomething to moiſten it.

When the Tea was ready, unluckily we had no Sugar, nor was there any in the Houſe, but what was in the Tea-Cheſt, the Key of which was in my Mother's Pocket under her Head. My Siſter went up and waked her, telling her, my Father wanted a little burned Wine. She readily gave it, and prayed devoutly that it might do him good. My Siſter came down laughing, to think how ſhe had impoſed on her. If any thing could have added Weight to the intolerable Burthen of my Sorrows, I now felt it, by conſidering how terrible my Mother's Surprize and Diſappointment muſt be!

About ſix o'Clock, I thought is was pro⯑per to ſend the Cheſt of Plate into Dean Madden's, and to lock up whatever was valuable; a prudent Precaution, as it too ſoon appeared. After this I went into my Mother's Chamber; ſhe aſked me how my Father was. I told her he had been very ill in the Beginning of the Night, but was now very quiet. She ſaid, ſhe hoped Sleep [196] would do him good. I anſwered, I truſted in God it had. So ſhe aroſe, and would not put on her Shoes leſt ſhe ſhould diſturb him: Nay, ſo ſtrong was the Force of her Imagination, that ſhe even ſaid, ſhe heard him cough as we paſſed by his Chamber Door: But a ſad Counterfeit was I; for when we came into his Dreſſing-Room, which opened to the Garden, as it was now Day-light, my Mother eaſily perceived the Concern in my Countenance; ſhe ſhrieked when ſhe looked at me, and with great Impatience aſked me, what ailed me: ‘'O Lord! cried ſhe, cannot you give me one Word of Comfort?'’ I anſwered very faintly, I wiſhed it was in my Power: But alas! her worſt Fears were but too true; all was over. I really thought ſhe would now have run quite mad; ſcarcely could I prevent her going into his Chamber. I ſent in for Dean Madden, who by Prayers and ſpiritual Advice, a little calmed her; but one Woe trod upon the other's Heels: Mr. Nicholls, who for the particular Re⯑gard he had for my Father, was his firſt Viſitor, and whoſe Humanity during the [197] whole Time of his Sickneſs, deſerves a grateful Acknowledgment; which, if the ſurviving Part of his Family refuſe, I think it incumbent on me to pay, ſo far at leaſt as Words can do it, came into the Dining-Room; he gueſſed our Loſs 'ere we could ſpeak it, and ſeemed to bear a Part in our Sorrows. He aſked me what Hour he ſhould come to open my Father. I told him, he had left his Curſe on any Perſon who attempted it. He ſaid he was very glad of it; for as this diſmal Operation muſt have fallen to his Share, it would, I am certain, greatly have ſhocked his Hu⯑manity. I would have had him go up to ſee my Mother: He ſaid it would but re⯑new her Trouble, and that when ſhe was a little more calm he would make her a Viſit.

I now thought it highly neceſſary to per⯑ſuade my poor Mother to take, at leaſt, a Diſh of Tea, which I could not do, but by aſſuring her I was ready to faint. Juſt as it was prepared, a Servant, looking like a Ghoſt, opened the Door, and beckoned me to follow him; I did ſo, and upon com⯑ing [198] down Stairs, found the Houſe filled with Sheriff's Officers: One of them, whoſe Name was Williams, was moſt remarkably inſolent, and abuſed me very groſly. I once more ſent in for Dean Madden; I believe the worthy Gentleman thought his Words might prevail, but the Scoundrel Williams bade him, go talk in his Pulpit. However, I had Preſence of Mind ſuffi⯑cient to write a Line to Counſellor Smith; he happened not to be at home; ſo I begged of the Dean to go to my Mother, leaſt thoſe licenſed Robbers ſhould plunder the Houſe. About ſeven in the Evening Mr. Smith came; he found the Wretches very buſy in taking an Inventory of the Furni⯑ture. They were full as rude to him, as they had been to the Dean; and at laſt car⯑ried it ſo far, as to inſiſt upon arreſting my Father's Body, juſt then laid in a Coffin. I, almoſt wild with Grief, ran after them; the Coffin was open, and I raiſed my dear Father in my Arms, and, as if he could have heard me, aſked him, Would he not protect his Family? Mr. Smith had, in the mean Time, ſent for the High-Sheriff; he [199] was a young, good-natured Gentleman; and, after heartily reprimanding the Fellows, nay, and even making Williams beg pardon on his Knees, diſmiſſed them all, except one, whom he ordered, not only to be civil, but alſo to do the Work of a Ser⯑vant; aſſuring us, he would take an In⯑ventory of the Things himſelf, as ſoon as the Funeral was over.

The next Day, being Sunday, we deter⯑mined to have my dear Father buried, ac⯑cording to his own Directions, privately, at Twelve o'Clock at Night; and I eaſily prevailed on Mr. Smith, and his preſent Lady, to give their Company to my Mother, during the Time of this laſt ſad ſolemn Ceremony. As my Mother wept in⯑ceſſantly, it made her ſleepy; but the Noiſe made in carrying down my Father's Corpſe, awak'd her; and as ſhe had only ſlumber'd in her Chair, ſhe ſtarted up, crying out, they were carrying her dear Huſband to the Grave, and that ſhe would go and be buried with him. We were obliged by Violence to reſtrain her; nay, and alſo to aſſure her he had been interred [200] ſome Hours, and that the Noiſe ſhe heard was only that of the Servants, who were ſetting Things in Order. Mr. Smith and his Lady, who, according to their Promiſe, came and paſſed the Evening with my Mo⯑ther, ſaid every thing that Reaſon, Chriſti⯑anity, or Humanity could dictate, to miti⯑gate her Afflictions. Gratitude for their Kindneſs made her endeavour to ſupreſs the Anguiſh of her Soul; nay, out of Complaiſance to them, ſhe drank a Glaſs or two of Wine, which, as ſhe had not done for ſome Weeks before, produced the Effect I deſired, of making her ſleep. Mr. P—n attended the Funeral Obſe⯑quies, which was the only Proof of Re⯑ſpect or Kindneſs he ever ſhewed to the Fa⯑mily.

Early the next Morning, I roſe; and if, in the melancholy Situation of my Soul, any thing could have made me ſmile, the Cookmaid's Simplicity would certainly have done it; for, finding her Fire made, her Diſhes waſhed, and every thing ſet in good Order, ſo well did the Bailiff, who was left in the Houſe, obey the High Sheriff's [201] Orders, in doing the Work of a Servant; and he having walked into the Garden; the Maid not recollecting there was any ſuch Perſon in the Houſe, ſtood croſſing herſelf, and praying to the Bleſſed Virgin, and all the Saints in Heaven. I aſked her, What was the matter? ‘'O my dear Ma⯑dam! (ſays ſhe) my Maſter was always neat; and ſee, for all he is dead, how he made the Fire, and cleaned up the Kitchen for me.'’

I left the poor Girl in her Miſtake, and went up to my Mother. It grieved me to awake her; yet knowing the High Sheriff would be early with us, and that the In⯑ventory of what was in her Chamber muſt be taken, I thought it was moſt decent for her to be up, as her unhappy Situation could not authorize her taking on the State of a Lady of Quality, to lie in Bed a Month for Faſhion's-ſake.

She was not long up before the Gentle⯑man came: From him I learned, that this Execution was laid at the Suit of the Wi⯑dow Ford, who being Executrix to her Children, had aſked my Father, where ſhe [202] could lay out their Money to Advantage. As Mr. Monck wanted Money, my Father immediately thought of him; but as his Eſtate was not liable to his Debts, my Father became Surety for him. This was enough for me; I immediately wrote to Mr. Monck; who, on Receipt of the Letter, came to Town, and, with great Honour, not only diſcharged his own Debt, but alſo paid the Sheriff's Fees, which in three Days amount⯑ed to Twenty Pounds.

This Gentleman was the late Henry Stanly Monck, of St. Stephen's Green.

My Siſter, like all provident Perſons, made the beſt of her Way to her Huſband's Mother; who being aſſured, by Dean Mad⯑den, that he himſelf had married my Siſter to her Son, which had been queſtioned, on Account of his abrupt Departure from her, ſoon after he had made her a Mother, was ſo kindly received by her new Parent, that for three Weeks after, ſhe never either ſent, or came, to know what was become of the old one.

As my Father had poſitively prohibited us from writing any Account to my Bro⯑ther, [203] then at Paris, of the Misfortune that had befallen him, I thought it not proper to diſobey him; yet, at the ſame time, judged it highly neceſſary he ſhould be ap⯑prized of the melancholy Situation of his Affairs at home; I therefore engaged a young Gentleman, an intimate Friend of my Brother's, to undertake the mournful Taſk, and adviſe him immediately to re⯑turn to Ireland: But his beſt Speed could not overtake his Father's Life, who had been three Weeks buried e're he arrived. When he ſaw us in deep Mourning, and miſſed the dear Parent, who uſed ever to receive him with the Love of a Father, and the Freedom of a Companion, all his Reſolution could ſcarce ſupport it: and tho' he endeavoured to comfort us, 'twas but too viſible he wanted it himſelf. My Heart bled for him; ſo diſappointed in all his Hopes, which, as they had been high raiſed, were now the more depreſſed. In ſhort, we were all mere Outſide, each endeavouring, by a forced Chearfulneſs, to conceal their inward Anguiſh from each other.

[204]As my Brother, ſoon after, ſold off the Goods by Auction, and placed my Mother, who was left entirely dependant on him, to board at a Clergyman's Houſe in the Coun⯑try, after which I never ſaw her more; I returned to my own Houſe.

Mr. P—n, having now no Expecta⯑tion of a Fortune by me, he threw off all Diſguiſe, and ſhewed himſelf in his proper Colours; he had, it ſeems, while I was in the Country, in a bad State of Health, got in League with the Widow W—rr—n, whom he intended, if I had died, as was expected, ſhould ſupply my Place. How⯑ever, he was reſolved to gid rid of me at any rate; and as nothing but my Death, or a Divorce, could accompliſh his Deſires, the latter ſeemed the ſafer Method. To this End, he ſet all his Engines to work. His firſt Scheme I ſhall here relate.

One Morning pretty early, he ſent for me to come to him to Breakfaſt in the Summer-houſe; as I thought he was alone, I ran to him quite undreſt; but was con⯑founded at the Sight of a Gentleman, whom I had never ſeen before, and who was dreſt [205] out with the utmoſt Magnificence and Cu⯑rioſity, rather in the Habit of a Birth-Night Beau, than a Morning Viſitor. I was for retiring, but Mr. P—n obliged me to come in, and introduced him to me. I ſat down with the beſt Grace I could; and made the Tea: Before it was half over Mr. P—n ſaid, he was obliged to go viſit a ſick Perſon; but that he ſhould re⯑turn in half an Hour, engaging me not to let the Gentleman go till then; at the ſame time aſſuring him, I was very well qualified to entertain him agreeably. The Gentle⯑man did not expreſs the leaſt Reluctance at complying with his Requeſt; ſo far from it, that as ſoon as he was gone, he ſaid, he was much indebted to Mr. P—n's Complaiſance, for the favourable Oppor⯑tunity he had afforded him of ſpeaking his Wiſhes; and, laying hold of my Hand, he began to addreſs me in a moſt bom⯑baſtic Stile, with Fuſtian from exploded Plays. For my part, I thought he was mad, and growing angry at what I deemed a great Incivility to a married Woman, I aſſured him, if he perſiſted in ſuch Imper⯑tinence, [206] I would quit the Place. He then begged Pardon moſt humbly indeed, for he threw himſelf on the Carpet at my Feet, ſwearing he would never riſe till I had forgiven him; which, not to be plagued with his farther Impertinence, I was forced to ſay, I did. He then wanted me to confirm it by a Kiſs, but that I would by no means grant. In ſhort, his Company was ſo tireſome, that I moſt im⯑patiently longed for a Releaſe; which, however, Mr. P—n was reſolved not to give me: So finding the Gentleman was determined to proſecute me, I told him I was engaged to dine abroad, and hoped he would excuſe my leaving him, as I ex⯑pected a Lady to call upon me, which laid me under a Neceſſity of going to dreſs.

Upon this civil Diſmiſs, to my great Sa⯑tisfaction he took his Leave, promiſing me, he would do himſelf the Honour of waiting on me again very ſpeedily, to which I made no Reply.

I believe he went to Mr. P—n to give him an Account of what had paſt, [207] who ſome time after returned, and ſeemed much offended, that I had ſuffered his Friend, as he called him, to go away; add⯑ing, that he was related to the Duke of Dorſet, and might, by his Intereſt, get him a good Living. I anſwered, Let him be ever ſo well related, he was a very troubleſome Coxcomb, and if he liked ſuch Company, I did not.

A few Days after my youngeſt Child died, and that I might avoid ſeeing the Funeral, I retired to the Summer-Houſe, where I ſat weeping; when ſuddently this ſame fine Spark opened the Door. He told me, Mr. P—n had ſent him to deſire I would have ſome Coffee ready, and that he would be at home immediately. I deſired the Gentleman to go with me to the Dwelling-Houſe, not chuſing to ſtay alone with him at ſo great a Diſtance from every Body. The Coffee was prepared, but no Mr. P—n came, ſo we drank it without him, and the Gentleman fell into his old Vagaries again. I then,

Burſt into Tears, and demanded of him, what he meant by ſuch Inſolence? He looked v [...]y much confounded, and aſked me, was I in earneſt? I aſſured him I was, and that I would acquaint Mr. P—n with his Rudeneſs. He ſmiled at that Threat, and to my great Surprize, made me the following Speech. ‘'Madam, I am convinced by your Behaviour, that you are a Woman of Honour, and am very ſorry I ſhould be ſo unfortunate as to provoke your Tears: The beſt Re⯑compence I can make you, is, to entruſt you with a Secret; and I doubt not but you will have Diſcretion enough to make a proper uſe of it. Mr. P—n de⯑ſcribed you to me, as a Lady very li⯑beral of your Favours, and begged I would be ſo kind as to make him a Cuckold, ſo that he might be able to prove it, in order to a Separation from [209] you; promiſing to give me Time and Opportunity for it: He aſſured me, it would be no difficult Taſk; that I need but throw myſelf at your Feet, whine out ſome Tragedy, and you would quick⯑ly yield. But I am now convinced, that he is a very great V—n, and very un⯑worthy of you.'’

I leave my Reaſon to judge of my Aſto⯑niſhment. I could ſcarce give the Gentle⯑man Credit; and yet it was but too evident that he ſpoke Truth, as it was now nine o'Clock at Night, and Mr. P—n not come home to his invited Gueſt.

When I had recovered Power to ſpeak, I told him, I ſuppoſed Mr. P—n knew him to be a Perſon deſtitute of all Honour and Humanity, when he propoſed ſuch a Scheme to him as that of betraying any Woman. ‘'Faith, Madam, returned he, I never intended it; for had you made me happy, I would, like a Gentleman, have forſworn it, and alſo have given you a proper Caution: But I would not pay you ſo ill a Compliment, as not to aſſure you, the Bait was very illuring. [210] I believe there are very few young Fel⯑lows who would have refuſed him the Favour he deſired of me.'’ I then beg⯑ged he would be ſo kind to leave me, which, accordingly, taking his Leave very reſpectfully, he did.

I went to Bed full of Diſquietude; but the bitter Anguiſh of my Soul quite baniſh⯑ed Sleep. I conſidered the Snares were laid for me, and that he who ought to be the Guardian and Protector of my In⯑nocence, was the very firſt Perſon who ſought to deſtroy it. I wept abundantly, and prayed heartily to God, to deliver me out of my Trouble; at length I fell into a Slumber, when methought my Father, juſt as I had ſeen him in his Coffin, drew open the Curtain, and muttered ſomething to me very low and indiſtinct; but the Words Trouble, Sorrow and Shame, I very plainly heard. I ſtarted up, and turned the Head Curtain back; but ſeeing nothing, con⯑cluded the Trouble of my Mind produced ſuch terrifying Dreams, and recommend⯑ing myſelf to Heaven, once more addreſſed myſelf to Sleep; when ſuddenly, me⯑thought, [211] I was in the midſt of a Parcel of Ruffians who were fighting, and that I, though I knew not why, was the Occaſion of their Quarrel. At laſt I thought one of them gave me a ſevere Blow over the Head, at which I ſcreamed out, and Mr. P—n, who was now in the Chamber, waked me, and aſked me, what was the matter? I told him, I had a very ſhocking Dream. ‘'Why, ſays he, you grieve ſo much after your Father, and your Brat, and take no Suſtenance, that it is no Wonder you ſhould be in the Vapours.'’ I deſired he would be ſo kind as give me a little Water; for I was in a faint cold Sweat; but as he always kept ſome Cherry-Brandy in his Study, he made me take a little of it, which greatly revived me. I then told him Mr. H—d had been to ſee him. He aſked me, how long he ſtayed? I anſwered, till I was weary of him. ‘'Why, did he offend you?'’ ‘'Indeed (returned I) he did.'’ ‘'How?'’ ſaid he. ‘'By a great deal of Impertinence, not worth relating. I ſuppoſe (ſaid he) the Coxcomb was re⯑peating [212] his Poetry to you.'’ ‘'No (re⯑turned I) he ſpoke nothing of his own; he had a proper Authority, I believe, for whatever he ſaid.'’ I looked earneſt⯑ly in Mr. P—n's Face, and could eaſily perceive he was in great Confuſion; ſo he put out the Candle, and came to Bed without aſking me any farther Queſtions.

Early the next Morning he went out of Town, without either leaving a Shilling to provide for his Family, which conſiſted of a Maid, a Footman, two Children, and my⯑ſelf, or any Perſon to ſerve his Cure; nei⯑ther did I, for the Space of two Months, hear from him, or receive any Supply; till at laſt, by Accident, I learned he was with the Widow W—rr—n. For the Truth of this, the Reverend Dr. Bradford can bear Witneſs; I mean, ſo far as his going away without either aſking his Permiſſion, or ſub⯑ſtituting any Perſon to do his Duty.

Even in Religion itſelf.

[213]I now beg leave to demand of every Perſon, who has been ſevere in their Cen⯑ſures of me, what Duty, Love, or Re⯑ſpect was due to ſuch a Huſband? When an honeſt Man is linked to a pe [...]ſidious Wo⯑man, his Misfortun [...]s claim Compaſſion; b [...] [...]ure a voluntary Cuckold is the mean⯑eſt Wretch in Human Nature, and de⯑ſerves nothing from the World, but the ut⯑moſt Contempt.

In the mean time the Pariſh was quite in an Uproar; nobody to viſit the Sick, or read Six o'Clock Prayers. I related this Part of my Diſtreſs to my Brother, who prevailed on a young Gentleman, who had been his School-fellow and Companion, then newly ordained, to do Mr. P—n's Duty.

As for my two Children, I ſent them to School, and they dined every Day with Mr. P—n's Father; the Servants were forced to run in Debt for Proviſion; and, for my own part, I quartered myſelf on my next Door Neighbours, Mr. Lindſay and his Spouſe, where I always met a chear⯑ful and friendly Reception.

[214]I muſt here obſerve, that becauſe I loved reading, Mr. P—n took with him the Key of his Study, into which he had re⯑moved all my Books, Preſents to me from my Friends before I was married. He alſo locked up the Garden, rather chuſing it ſhould be overgrown with Weeds, and the Plants and Flowers die for Want of Water, than that either I or the Children ſhould have the Pleaſure of amuſing our⯑ſelves in it. The Tea-cheſt was alſo ſe⯑cured; ſo I was left like a tame Cat, with the Liberty of walking about through two or three empty Rooms.

When I had learned where Mr. P—n was, I wrote to him; but received no Anſwer. At length, one Saturday, about Twelve o'Clock at Noon, his Horſe was brought home and a mangy Dog, of which I was ordered to take a particular care, which I did; and now expected the Maſ⯑ter. But as his buxom old Widow (and old enough ſhe was to be my Mother, and big enough to make four of me) came to Town with him, he ſtayed with her till Twelve o'Clock at Night. His firſt Queſ⯑tion [215] when he entered was, where was his Dog? with which having played about half an Hour, hugging, kiſſing, and calling it an Angel, he at laſt vouchſafed to come up Stairs. I ſat in my Cloſet in a very penſive Poſture; his firſt Salutation to me was, to aſk me, how I had the Impudence to write to him about my Family Affairs? I aſked him to whom elſe ſhould I write? ‘'Very fine! (returned he) ſuppoſe Mrs. W—rr—n had opened my Letter!'’ ‘'I could not ſuppoſe that, Sir, becauſe it is a Liberty I never took with you.'’ ‘'You took with me! why ſhould you?’ ‘'Nay then (ſaid I) why ſhould ſhe?’ ‘'I have (ſaid he) great Patience, that I do not turn you out of Doors.'’ ‘'As ſoon as you pleaſe, Sir; I know my Way to St. Sepulchres, and late as it is, I dare ſay they will give me Admiſſion.'’

I believe he thought he had now gone too far, and was more than half afraid I would publiſh all his Villanies; ſo he fell into his old Trade of Diſſimulation, in which he is a perfect Maſter; and taking me by the Hand, told me, he did not [216] think ſo gentle a Temper as mine could be diſturbed at any Thing; and that it was very unkind in me to be diſobliged at his taking a little Recreation in the Country; adding, that he often wiſhed for me there. I aſked him why he did not take me with him? He ſaid, he had propoſed it to Mrs. W—rr—n; but that ſhe had objected a⯑gainſt it, telling him, I was a Woman of ſo bad a Reputation, that ſhe would not for all the World countenance me. I muſt beg leave to aſk my Readers, what Sort of Terms this Couple muſt be on, when ſhe took the Liberty of traducing his Wife to him? She may be very chaſte, for aught I know; but I verily believe many an un⯑happy Creature, who has even proſtituted herſelf for Bread, would not have been guilty of her Crime.

Curſed be he that parteth Man and Wife is Part of our Aſh-Wedneſday Service, to which I ſay Amen, with all my Heart and Soul.

But to return: I told Mr. P—n, I was extremely obliged to the Lady; that moſt Men, even if they hated their Wives, [217] would reſent any Injury offered to them as being Part of themſelves; but he was too good a Chriſtian for that. So I aroſe, and was for leaving the Room. He aſked me, where I was going? I anſwered, ‘'To ſleep with my Children; for why ſhould I, Sir, go to bed to a Man, in whoſe Perſon, Mind, or Fortune, I have no longer a Share; and who has actually divorced him⯑ſelf from me, as the Law can do!'’

However he inſiſted on my ſtaying with him, which accordingly I did. We both roſe pretty early; and the Children coming in to aſk his Bleſſing, he whipt his Daugh⯑ter ſeverely, becauſe, as he ſaid, ſhe re⯑ſembled my Mother; though indeed ſhe was infinitely more like his own: And, to ſhew his Impartiality, he whipt the poor little Boy, for being like himſelf.

When this Scene was over, the Children were turned down to the Kitchen, and the mangy Dog, which it ſeems was given him by Mrs. W—rr—n, invited to a good Plate of Toaſt and Butter and half a Pint of Cream for his Breakfaſt; ſo well did he [218] fulfil the old Proverb, Love me, love my Dog.

After theſe Holy Exerciſes, he went to the Communion; which indeed I had in⯑tended to do, but as he had really vexed me paſt my Patience, I could not compoſe my⯑ſelf ſufficiently for the worthily receiving thoſe ſublime Myſteries.

Thus we may ſee it is in the power of a bad Man, not only to deſtroy our temporal, but alſo our eternal Happineſs.

I ſaw no more of him till Midnight; buxom Joan engaging him till then, or in other Words, the Widow W—rr—n.

Mr. P—n's Father hearing he was in Town, came the next Morning to ſee him, and demanded of him the Money he had paid for his Childrens Tuition; upon which he turned to me, with an Air of great Con⯑tempt, and told me, he thought when he had married ſo accompliſhed a Lady, ſhe might have taught her Children to read, write, work, &c. and at leaſt have ſaved him the Expence of their Education. I told him, and indeed it was Truth, that I ſhould never deſire a more delightful Em⯑ployment [219] than that of cultivating their Minds; but that he ought to conſider, he left no Support for our Bodies, and conſe⯑quently I was obliged to go abroad every Day to ſeek for Food, and could not en⯑cumber ſuch Company, as I might be wel⯑come to, with my Children. Here Mr. P—n's Father interrupted me, by ſay⯑ing, I might always have been welcome to him. Indeed I doubt it not, for he was a good-natured Man; but as he kept an Ale⯑houſe, it was no very agreeable Place for me to paſs my Time in.

Next Morning buxom Joan came in her own Coach for her Chaplain; a Right which moſt Widows of Fortune claim. I looked at her, and ſhe hid her Face. Mr. P—n ſoon waited on her, and away they went together, leaving me juſt as de⯑ſolate as I was before.

Mr. P—n has often alledged, in order to prove me an Adultreſs, as I was with Child when we parted, that he had no manner of matrimonial Commerce with me for four Years. I was but juſt four and twenty Years of Age when we were ſepa⯑rated; [220] and, as my Reader may obſerve, he would not permit me to have a ſeparate Bed, whether what he not only ſaid, but ſwore, was true or falſe, I do not ſee how he could gain any Honour by it.

For as the Spaniſh Friar ſays, when old Gomez boaſts that his Wife was a ſpotleſs Virgin for him;

And here, gentle Reader, give me leave to drop the Curtain. To avouch mine own Innocence in a Point, where Appear⯑ances were ſtrong againſt me, would per⯑haps little avail me: The ſupreme Judge of Hearts alone will at the laſt great Day clear or condemn me; to whoſe unerring Juſtice and boundleſs Goodneſs I ſubmit my Cauſe.

When Snares and Limed-Twigs are ſpread for a poor Bird, it cannot well eſcape. Yet I may ſay with the condemned Duke of Buckingham, in Shakeſpear's Henry the Eighth,

A proper Caution to both Sexes, to be duly on their Guard againſt Confidants.

I could reckon up numberleſs Inſtances of Mr. P—n's Averſion to me; one in particular I cannot paſs over. One Day, at Dinner, the Pin in the Robing of my Gown, pricked my Breaſt; as there was no body but my Huſband and Children preſent, I made no Scruple of uncovering my Boſom, to examine what had hurt me; upon which Mr. P—n roſe from Table, and ſaid I had turned his Stomach. As I really had a fine Skin, and was then a moſt remarkably neat Perſon, I thought he only [222] jeſted; and merrily told him, he ſhould kiſs my Breaſt and make it well: But alas! it was not like Prior's Lover's Anger, where when the Lady complains, that

For he told me, he was ſure he ſhould faint if I came near him; and either pretended to throw up his Dinner, or did it in reality. After which polite Compliment, he drank a large Glaſs of Cherry-brandy, to ſettle his Stomach; and repaired to his uſual Haunt, i. e. to buxom Joan.

[223]About Twelve at Night, he returned, and awaked me out of a ſweet Sleep, by telling me, I was a moſt expenſive extrava⯑gant Woman. I aſked him in what? He ſaid, in putting on clean Linen every Day; whereas Mrs. W—rr—n, who had a Thou⯑ſand Pounds a Year, aſſured him, ſhe never ſhifted herſelf but once a Week, and ſhewed him Half-ſleeves, which ſhe wore, to ſave the Expence of waſhing. I anſwered him very careleſly, that I ſuppoſed that was what charmed him; and therefore, Dirt to Dirt.

I beg leave here to remark, that my Huſ⯑band's Complaints were very different from thoſe of moſt married Men; their general Excuſe for going aſtray is, that their Wives are dirty, ſlothful, ignorant, &c. the very Reverſe of which ſwiniſh Qualities made my good Man hate me.

And in one of the Sermons on Social Duties, publiſhed lately by a real Divine, he makes this Obſervation, That he be⯑lieves, very few Women have either been ſo weak, or ſo wicked, to wrong the Mar⯑riage-bed, but when they have been pro⯑voked to it, either by the ill Treatment they received from their Huſbands, or in Re⯑venge to their prior Falſhoods.

If I have not delivered the moſt worthy Author's Sentiments with his own Elegance of Style, I am ſure he will pardon me, as I only quote from Memory, not being Miſ⯑treſs of his admirable Works.

I do aſſure my Reader, I do not, by thoſe Quotations, mean to countenance Vice,

[226] So far from it, that in my Opinion, Nothing can excuſe the Breach of it; and a Fe⯑male

All I intend is this; the World has been pleaſed to ſay, I had a moſt excellent Huſ⯑band; and therefore have thought proper, not thinking their Bill of Accuſation large enough, to add Ingratitude to every other Vice and Folly they are pleaſed to attribute to me.

But ſo many Yards of Prunella and a Bit of clear Cambrick, properly placed under the Chin, it ſeems make a Holy Man.

I hope Mr. P—n will return his Acknowledgments to me, for making him publicly known; for, as I hear, his Poems have ſuffered the Fate of all Things mor⯑tal; and, to uſe his own Lines,

And ſo if my Quondam Huſband arrives at Fame, or ever goes to Heaven, either of which I very much doubt, I think he muſt ſtill reſt my Debtor.

And that Cuckolds go to Heaven, no body ever yet diſputed. Were he one, he ought to thank me that helped to ſend him thi⯑ther. If I have beſtowed on him Fame in this World, and Salvation in the next, what could a reaſonable Man deſire more from his Wife? But ſome Folks are never to be ſatisfied!—But whether he is entitled to the Horn or not, muſt always be a Se⯑cret: I hope ſome curious Commentator will hereafter endeavour to find out the Truth of it; for my Mind gives me,

And if a Scotch Barber, one Allan Ramſay, promiſes himſelf ſo much, in a Sort of Bur⯑leſque on Horace, why may I not be in⯑dulged [229] in equal Vanity, the ruling and darling Paſſion of our Sex? Tho' I ſhall never carry it to ſuch an unnatural Height, as Dr. Young makes a Lady do, when ſhe is dying,

I muſt beg my Reader's Pardon for theſe numerous Quotations; but, as Swift ſays, ‘'thoſe anticipating Raſcals the Ancients, have left nothing for us poor Moderns to ſay:'’ But ſtill to ſhew my Vanity, let it ſtand as ſome ſort of Praiſe, that I have ſtolen wiſely.

At length the fatal Hour arrived, when Mr. P—n's Machinations wrought the Effect he ſo long deſired, namely, my De⯑ſtruction; [230] and, as he never did Things by Halves, that of his own Children alſo; to whom his Barbarity has exceeded any thing I ever either heard or read of; but that in due Place.

I own myſelf very indiſcreet in permit⯑ting any Man to be at an unſeaſonable Hour in my Bed-Chamber; but Lovers of Learning will, I am ſure, pardon me, as I ſolemnly declare, it was the attractive Charms of a new Book, which the Gentle⯑man would not lend me, but conſented to ſtay till I read it through, that was the ſole Motive of my detaining him. But the Servants, being bribed by their Maſter, let in twelve Watchmen at the Kitchen Win⯑dow, who, though they might have open⯑ed the Chamber-Door, choſe rather to break it to pieces, and took the Gentleman and myſelf Priſoners.

For my own Part, I thought they had been Houſe-breakers, and would willingly have compounded for Life, when entered Mr. P—n, with a Cambric Hand⯑kerchief tied about his Neck, after the Faſhion of Mr. Fribble, and with the [231] Temper of a Stoic, bid the authorized Ruffians not hurt me: But his Chriſtian Care came too late; for one of them had given me a violent Blow on the Temple, and another had dragged two of my Fin⯑gers out of Joint. The Gentleman, at the Sight of Mr. P—n, threw down his Sword, which he obſerving, made two of the Watchmen hold him, while he moſt courageouſly broke his Head.

After this heroic Action, he told me, who ſtood quite ſtupified between Surprize and Pain, that I muſt turn out of Doors; but obſerving that I was fainting, he brought up a Bottle of Wine, and kindly drank both our Healths. He would fain have prevailed on us to pledge him; but we were not in a Temper to return Civili⯑ty. Upon which he took my Hand, and very generouſly made a Preſent of me to the Gentleman, who could not in Honour refuſe to take me, eſpecially as his own Liberty was not to be procured on any other Terms. Mr. P—n kindly diſ⯑miſſed our Guards, and aſſured us, as ſoon as ever he had obtained a Divorce, he [232] would with great Pleaſure, join us together in holy Matrimony. At the Door the Gentleman's Sword was delivered to him. Mr. P—n offered to kiſs me at part⯑ing, which mean Piece of Diſſimulation, ſo much in the Stile of Jack Ketch, gave me the utmoſt Contempt for the V—n.

It was by this time two o'Clock in the Morning, and we knew not where to ſteer our Courſe: However, the Gentleman's Servant always ſat up for him, and there⯑fore he judged it more adviſeable to go to his own Lodging, than to ſearch for any other, and, truly, I little cared where I went.

And here, I ſincerely aſſure my Reader, that neither of us even entertained a Thought of any thing like Love, but ſat like Statues till Day-break; when recollect⯑ing that I had nothing to change me with, I wrote a Letter to Mr. P—n to deſire he would ſend me my wearing Apparel, or at leaſt ſome clean Linen.

He complied with my Requeſt, and wrote me a long Letter, wherein he ſeemingly ex⯑preſſed an infinite Concern for my Loſs, but [233] as I had moſt ſtrenuouſly recommended our Children to his Care, he gave it then un⯑der his Hand that he was perfectly con⯑vinced they were his own, and that I might depend on his Tenderneſs to them; but at the ſame time, as he was determined to be legally divorced, he expected I would not give him any Oppoſition in it.

Before I received this Letter, I had taken a Lodging in Abbey-ſtreet up two pair of Stairs, where my Clothes were brought to me, together with it; but not a ſingle Shilling to aſſiſt me, my Watch, my Books, and even what few Jewels I poſſeſſed be⯑fore Marriage, were detained from me, which threw me quite dependant on the Courteſy of the Perſon I was accuſed with.

But Mr. P—n was ſo highly pro⯑voked at our not cohabiting together, as he wiſhed, that he forced the Gentleman to fly, who having Notice that there was an Action taken out againſt him, made the beſt of his way to London, leaving a Letter with five Guineas encloſed in it for [234] me, in the Hands of a Diſſenting Miniſter, who very faithfully diſcharged his Truſt.

Curioſity made me go to the Gentle⯑man's Lodging to enquire of his Land⯑lady what ſhe knew relating to him; the Gentlewoman was very obliging, but could give me no Satisfaction or Light into the Affair: However, ſhe made me drink Tea with her, and we ſat together till near nine o'Clock at Night.

At my return to my own Lodging, the Maid told me my Room was Let; I ſaid that was odd, as it was taken by the Week, and one not then expired, to Let it with⯑out giving me Warning to provide myſelf, which, at that Hour, in a Winter's Night, it was impoſſible for me to do.

The Maid, to whoſe care this Houſe was entruſted, for I know not who was Land⯑lord, told me, I might if I pleaſed lie in the firſt Floor, as the Family were not come to Town, and there were only their Servants in the Houſe, whom ſhe could diſpoſe of into worſe Beds; but, to my great Surprize, I found the Lock had been taken off the Bed-chamber Door, which I will remem⯑bered [235] had been on it in the Morning, as I had ſome Difficulty to open it to take thence ſome China.

I aſked her the meaning of it? She in⯑ſiſted poſitively that there never had been a Lock on it, which knowing to be a Falſhood, I began to be apprehenſive ſome foul play was intended, nor was I miſtaken.

I then aſked her for a young Woman, whom ſhe had told me was a Servant out of Place, that lodged in the back Parlour; ſhe ſaid ſhe was a Bed in the Garret, and that my Trunk was there alſo; this gave me a ſufficient Excuſe, as there was no Lock on the Trunk, to go up to her; and as ſhe had been a Lady's Woman, and very well knew who I was, I told her all my Appre⯑henſions, and ſhe readily conſented to quit her own Bed and come to mine.

We brought down the Trunk between us, and placed it againſt the Chamber-Door; as the Maid was buſied with her new Gueſts, ſhe took it for granted I was alone, and therefore reſolved to provide me with [236] a Male Bed-fellow, as a proper Conſolation for a Perſon in my unhappy Situation.

About ſeven o'Clock in the Morning, not then clear Day, ſhe very furiouſly puſhed open the Chamber-Door, and told me, one Mr. B—k deſired to breakfaſt with me, who was a Member of P—t, and a Man of Fortune, and the Perſon who had taken the Houſe. I told her I never wiſhed to ſee any human Creature, and ſhould be glad I could hide myſelf even from my⯑ſelf; but ſhe, ſuppoſing me to be alone, directly introduced a Man, full ſix Feet high, and of the moſt diſagreeable Aſpect I ever beheld—Perhaps it was my Terror that painted him ſo to my Imagination.

I ſtarted up and threw my Gown about me, but I was not quite ſo quick in putting on my Clothes as the Gentleman was, in taking his off, reſolving, without the leaſt Ceremony to come to Bed to me, I pulled my Companion, who aſked him what he meant; why, who the D—l are you, you old B—ch ſaid he: This Lady, mean⯑ing me, is publickly known thro' all the Coffee-houſes in Dublin. Had the Gentle⯑man [237] been ſtudying how to diſappoint his own Intentions, he could not more effectual⯑ly have done it, as he brought all the Horror of my Condition full upon my Mind. And as I had no Protector, no Friend, no Guardian, I burſt into Tears, and told him, if he was a Gentleman, he would not inſult Miſery. ‘'Do I occaſion Tears, Madam?'’ ‘'You do, Sir, and and therefore I deſire you will depart.'’ ‘'Well, Madam, ſaid he, I beg pardon, I had a full Hiſtory of you from the Maid of the Houſe, who ſaid, ſhe believed a Companion would not be diſagreeable to you, eſpecially as ſhe was apprehenſive you had no Money.'’ ‘'Sir, ſaid I, ſhe is miſtaken, I have at leaſt enough to diſ⯑charge my Lodging, which I will imme⯑diately do; and once more I deſire you to withdraw, which accordingly he did.'’

I then prevailed on the young Woman who was with me to take a Lodging for me, and in about half an Hour I went to it.

So from my Heart, I wrote the following Lines.

I believe Mr. P—n would ſay with old Sir Paul Plyant, when he finds a Love: Letter from a Gentleman to his Wife, ſigned, your dying Ned Careleſs, ‘'Ads bud, I wiſh it were true!'’ But,

[242] But I had a Fellow-Lodger, one Mr. Don⯑nellan, an Enſign, who it ſeems knew me ſo well, that he thought proper to bring the late Earl of R—ſſe, of facetious Me⯑mory, and ſeveral other Perſons of Diſtinc⯑tion, to break open my Lodging. On hearing them coming up Stairs, I ran into the Dining-Room, and locked myſelf in. When thoſe worthy P—rs could not find me, they threatened to kick the Landlady; and one of them putting his Mouth to the Key-hole of the Dining-Room, cried, ‘'Do, my Dear, open the Door; by Heaven! it is nobody but I, D—g, the Fiddler.'’ I made no Reply; ſo being diſappointed, they were forced to decamp, curſing and vowing Revenge againſt the Woman of the Houſe.

This Accident ſo terribly alarmed me, that I reſolved to quit this Lodging the next Day; but Mr. D—n was de⯑termined not to permit me to depart in Peace; for, being a military Man, he ſtood Centinel at the Door of my Chamber all Night, frequently intreating me to let him in; but truly had I been amorouſly in⯑clined, [243] the Sight of the various Medicines in his Apartment would have

For, as I had a back Room, when this Gentleman was abroad, I frequently, for Variety, went into his, which looked into the Street.

However, at laſt he went to Bed; and early next Morning he told the Landlady that I had kept him awake all Night, and that I was a moſt notorious common S—t.

‘'Arah, by my Shoul (ſaid the old Dame) you would make her one, if you could: What Buſineſs had you, and all thoſe Lords with her? One of them bid the Devil to breake my own Neck; but I hope he will be hanged firſt.'’

While my Landlady, to whom I had never told my Name, related this to me, I heard ſomebody enquire for Mrs. Pilking⯑ton, ſo I deſired to know who it was, and up came a very well dreſt matron like Fe⯑male of about Fifty; ſhe expreſſed great [244] Concern for my Misfortunes; ſaid, my dear Father had ſaved her Life, and that ſhe was at preſent Houſe-keeper to the Earl of A—m, who was extremely troubled for his Rudeneſs to me, and hoped I would give him an Opportunity of beg⯑ging my Pardon. I told her, as I did not know whom to blame, I wanted no Apo⯑logy; it was my wretched Fate to be ſub⯑ject to the Inſolence of every Fellow.

She then urged, what I own was a pre⯑vailing Argument to one not worth a Shil⯑ling, that my Lord was very generous, and would, ſhe was ſure, make me a hand⯑ſome Preſent, in Recompence of the Ter⯑ror he had put me into. As I looked on my preſent Circumſtances to be quite de⯑ſperate, being near Lying-in, and having nothing to aſſiſt me, I agreed to ſee him any where, except at my own Lodging. Upon which the artful old Crone told me of a Houſe in the Neighbourhood, a very reputable one according to her Account, where my Lord would meet me in the Evening.

[245]Accordingly I went; but let any one judge of my Surprize, when inſtead of the Earl, I met a Gentleman whom I had never ſeen before: So I inſtantly departing left him to his Contemplations. And in Pro⯑ceſs of Time it came to light, that the venerable Houſe-keeper of the Earl, was neither better or worſe than the celebrated Mother Brown: And indeed I received many Viſits from Ladies of her ſublime Calling.

And what moſt ſurpriſed me, was, that they were generally employed by ſober mar⯑ried Men, and ſuch as to my own Know⯑ledge, lived very well with their Wives; but theſe Ladies aſſured me, their Huſbands hated them, and would rather have any other Woman. So I found I was not a⯑lone in my Misfortune. And if every married Man, who has ever attacked me, does not ſubſcribe to my Memoirs, I will, without the leaſt Ceremony, inſert their Names, be their Rank ever ſo high, or their Profeſſion ever ſo holy.

And the more formal Villains, who, in the Robes of Sanctity, commit worſe Frauds then Highwaymen, ſurely ought not to re⯑main unexpoſed.

I once was acquainted with a Prelate, who had certain ſtated Prices for all his Sins; as thus:

And,

Which, in all in good Time, may be

[248]What I thought moſt cruel in him was that he never gave a Farthing to the poor Women themſelves. But to make up Mat⯑ters with Heaven, he took up ten Baſtards every Year; fed, clothed, and apprenticed them; hoping, no doubt, as his Dealings were pretty promiſcuous, ſome one of them might belong to him. So

As I do not chuſe to be guilty of Scan⯑dalum magnatum, if nobody can gueſs who I mean, I will fairly acknowledge myſelf to be as arrant a Dunce as any B—p or Parſon in the World, and really that is ſpeaking largely;

And as Milton obſerves on the Devil's breaking into Paradiſe:

And it were to be wiſhed that our Bleſſed Saviour would once more come, and drive thoſe Money-Changers out of the Temple.

I was again once more obliged to change my Lodging, and knew not how to provide for the approaching Calamity: I wrote to Mr. P—n, who generouſly ſent me Six⯑pence by my eldeſt Son, to put me above the Temptations to which Want expoſes our helpleſs Sex; for ſo he expreſſed him⯑ſelf in a long Epiſtle he wrote with it.

But when things are at the worſt they generally mend; for who ſhould arrive from London but Mr. W—le. He no ſooner heard of my Misfortune, but he came to viſit me, and as he had a ſtrange Ambition to be thought a Poet, he aſſured me, if I would devote my Genius to his Service he would liberally reward me; to which I gladly conſented, as an eaſy and [250] honourable Method of getting a Subſiſt⯑ence.

I really would not be ſo ungenerous to ſtrip the Jack-Daw of his borrowed Plumes, but that his Uſage of me in Lon⯑don was ſo inhuman, that it merits a worſe Puniſhment from me, than meerly expoſ⯑ing his Vanity, and the World may con⯑clude,

Though Mr. P—n and Harry C—ry were his two Subalterns, or under Strappers in poetical Stock-jobbing. As Mr. W—le was a muſical Man, my firſt Taſk was to write a Song for him, which I performed in the following manner.

Mr. W—le ſhewed this Ballad to Mr. P—n, who thought proper to alter the laſt Verſe, giving it this prophane and non⯑ſenſical Turn;

As for the Gods envying Mortals, and wiſh⯑ing to be like them, it has neither Senſe, Engliſh, nor even Novelty to recommend it; nor is it agreeable to the Dictates of Reaſon or Religion; for even a Heathen Author ſtands condemned for ſetting Cato in a Light ſuperior to the Gods; but a Chriſtian Divine may ſay any thing, and ſo much for an old Song.

I thought my Circumſtances might have ſecured me from any farther Attacks from the Male World; but it ſeems I was to have no more Reſt than the Patriarch's Dove had; for I had a furious Onſet from

One C—n, a Perſon not otherwiſe known, than by his being acquainted with all the [253] Tricks and Roguery of the Courts; who, becauſe I treated him with the Contempt he deſerved, railed at me wherever he went, inſomuch that I was obliged to compliment him with the following Lines.

This did not happen to ſilence the Fel⯑low, who now carried his Impudence ſo far, as to declare to all the Lawyers at the Roſe Club, that I made Love to him; ſo, recollecting a Story his Nephew, who was married to my Siſter, had related to me, of a vile Uſe to which he adapted three large Folio Volumes of his Uncle's Philoſophy, I wrote the following Ballad, and pacquetted Mr. T—ffe with it, at a Time I knew ſeveral Lawyers would be aſſembled at the Tavern aforementioned; and threatened Mr. T—ffe, if he did not read it out for the Amuſement of the Company, he ſhould be my next Subject for Satyr; but no body ſo earneſtly inſiſted on ſeeing the Song as C—n himſelf. To oblige him and entertain the Company, [256] Mr. T—ffe ſung it to the Tune of Chevy Chace.

I have been credibly informed that this Song made C—n bluſh, which was more than any thing had ever done before. How⯑ever he took a Copy of it, which he pro⯑miſed to publiſh; but finding he has not been as good as his Word, I muſt even be at the Expence of doing it my ſelf.

But to return: Mr. W—le came to me, and told me, he had been ſo unfortunate to diſoblige a Lady of Diſtinction; for not be⯑ing apprized that ſhe underſtood French, and being aſked in that Language, how he liked her? he ſaid, ſhe was an indifferent Pic⯑ture of her Siſter: But he eaſily perceived, by an Alteration in her Countenance, that [259] ſhe too well underſtood him, and that he was out of Hope of obtaining her Pardon, unleſs ſomething pretty could be wrote upon the Subject by way of Apology; ſo I raiſed his Spirits in about half an Hour after, by ſending him the following Lines.

In the Evening Mr. W—le returned, and told me, the Lines had made up all Matters; that the other young Lady ſaid, ſhe wiſhed he had affronted her, ſo he had made her ſuch a pretty Apology. ‘'I muſt beg of you now, ſaid he, to improve that Hint, and write me ſome Lines for her Siſter.'’ I readily writ for him theſe.

The Lines had the deſired Effect, and both the Ladies were reconciled to the ſup⯑poſed Author.

My next Taſk being a charitable one, I could by no means refuſe; which was to write the following Prologue, for the Bene⯑fit of a diſtreſſed Perſon in Jail.

Mr. W—e now began to make ſome Figure; and tho' he kept me pretty fully employed, he drove an underhand Trade with Mr. P—n. And as he was not willing that either of us ſhould believe him incapable of Writing, he uſed to ſhew Mr. P—n's Work to me, and ſwear it was his own; and in return, he, with the ſame modeſt Aſſurance, preſented mine to him; but we were too well acquainted with each other's Stile to be deceived. At laſt, Mr. P—n, not ſatisfied with all the Ex⯑pence he put him to in London, made a Demand on him for fifty Pounds; but as Mr. P—n had before made the beſt Penny of me to him he poſſibly could, and W—le finding what I wrote paſſed every Jot as well his, he thought it moſt convenient, if he did diſburſe any thing, to give it to me, as thinking I moſt wanted it; ſo I was now full of Poetical Buſineſs, [264] by which my Poverty was relieved, and my Mind amuſed.

Mr. P—n was ſo vexed at loſing his Chap, that in Revenge he endeavoured to inſinuate that we converſed unlawfully to⯑gether; but this met no Credit, as I very ſeldom ſaw him, and never alone.

In the mean time he carried on a vigorous Proſecution againſt me in the Spiritual Court, in which I gave him no oppoſition; as he ſolemnly declared he would always allow me a Maintenance to the utmoſt of his Ability; and to live with him, I by no means deſired.

But no ſooner had he obtained a Separa⯑tion from me, but he retracted every Word he had ſaid; not only refuſing to give me any Aſſiſtance, but alſo abuſing me, in the moſt unchriſtian, falſe, and ſcandalous manner, and publickly triumphed in hav⯑ing over-reached me. Upon this I was [265] adviſed to lodge an Appeal againſt him, which made him quite mad. He abuſed his Advocate Proctor, and the Judge himſelf, as all doing him Injuſtice; and tho' I knew none of them, inſiſted on it, they were Confederates with me againſt him.

But this outragious manner of Proceed⯑ing rather injured himſelf than me; the Delegates were appointed; and as every body whom he conſulted, aſſured him, he would be caſt, his haughty Spirit was will⯑ing to capitulate; but nobody would un⯑dertake to deliver his Meſſage to me, leaſt he ſhould ſcandalize them for it; ſo at length with great Entreaty he prevailed on W—le to make a Propoſal from him, to me, of giving me a ſmall Annuity, and thirty Pounds in Money, which, in regard to my Children, I rather choſe to accept of, than ruin their Father, as I certainly had it in my power to do.

W—le, who has really a good deal of Humour, came to me one Morning after my being a Week without ſeeing him, and in a Theatrical manner delivered the following Speech: ‘[266]Before I ſpeak the Meſſage of the Prieſt; firſt give me leave to glory in the Title of his Ambaſſador.’

I wondered what odd Whim had now taken W—le; and begged he would deliver himſelf like a Man of this World.

He then related the Propoſal afore⯑mentioned, on which I deſired two Days time to conſider, and then acquieſced, and withdrew the Appeal, like an eaſy Fool as I was.

Dearly have I ſince repented it, as no Articles of the Agreement were kept, altho' I thought they were as ſtrongly aſſured to me, as the Law could make them; in which there are ſo many Loop-holes, that even Perſons converſant with it may be de⯑ceived; how then ſhould a Female be ſufficiently on her Guard, againſt the Pro⯑feſſors of a kind of unintelligible Jargon, whoſe Skill is to puzzle the Cauſe, or a Science where,

[267]Of the Thirty Pounds, I never received but Fifteen, and thoſe Mr. W—le aſ⯑ſured me he advanced out of his own Pocket, and never was paid, as I can prove under his own Hand.

But Heav'n knows, as I had every thing to provide for a Child, and myſelf, and Rent alſo to pay, this Sum laſted not long, eſpecially as I had no Friend near me.—No; nor any honeſt Perſon; for my Landlady, of whom before I had conceived a good Opinion, when ſhe found I was in Labour, inſiſted either on my paying double the Rent I had engaged for, or quitting her Houſe, which, as it was then too late for me to do, I was neceſſitated to comply with her exorbitant Demand, which made her very complaiſant.

Before I had received even this ſmall Re⯑lief I wrote to many Ladies, to whom my Father had been Phyſician, and who once ſeemed to be my Friends; but to no pur⯑poſe; their conſtant Anſwer was, that I deſerved nothing; to which general Rule, I never met with but two Exceptions.

[268]I wrote alſo to the B—p of C—, who after long Deliberation, picked out of his Purſe half a Piece, which extraordinary Bounty, he by the Force of Imagination doubled; and alſo declared that I had ſent to him for it, a Woman who had been whipt thro' the Town; who, as ſhe really was a Gentlewoman of good Character, but of low Fortune, had it not been for my Perſuaſion to the contrary, would have ſued his L—p for Defamation.

But as he was ſo kind to give my Son, who is his God-ſon, Five Shillings in ſmall Change in London, which he told the Youth was a Crown Piece, who knowing there was ſuch a Coin as a Five Shilling Piece of Gold, ſearched amongſt the Half⯑pence narrowly to find it, tho' without Succeſs, I think I muſt pardon him; eſpe⯑cially, as on my threatning to expoſe him ſince I came to Ireland, he, to bribe me to Secrecy, ſent me one Pound, a remark⯑able and unaccountable Charity from his Lordſhip, to any Perſon of whom he had not Carnal Knowledge.

[269]And tho' in a Letter of his, he aſſures me he deſires no public Praiſe for what he has done, and makes as long and learned a Diſquiſition between the Law of our Mem⯑bers and the Law of our Minds, as he once did between Graminervous and Carniverous, which, as I do not underſtand Latin, I may very poſſibly miſpel, tho' their Signi⯑fication is, I believe, Graſs or Fleſh de⯑vouring Animals; of the later of which, I believe his L—p would make the beſt Meal. The antient Prieſts were never permitted to burn Fleſh, but as a Sacrifice to the Almighty; but it is reported, that one of them turning a Stake, when it was a little too hot, burned his Finger, on which he licked it, and found it ſo ſavory, that he devoured that part which was intended for the Gods; and as the Laity beheld him, to their Opinion, breaking the Law in eating Fleſh, he aſſured them, that he had an immediate Revelation, that it was lawful for him to eat the prime Part of the Fleſh, and leave the Garbage for the Laity. Thus we may ſee how early Prieſtcraft began; from the very firſt, they were Fleſh⯑mongers; [270] and Prieſts of all Religions are the ſame. Thoſe who want to look farther into the Deceits of Prieſthood, may trace it up even to the Nile, from whence Su⯑perſtition and the Crocodile firſt ſprung, both alike deſtructive to Mankind.

It is known to every learned Divine, that the Prieſts engroſſed the whole Country of Egypt, as the eldeſt Son of every Prieſt was born a Prieſt, and was therefore in⯑titled to a tenth part of the Land; upon which Joſeph, who was not only an admir⯑able Man but an excellent Politician, and had a Divine Revelation that the Land ſhould ſuffer Famine ten Years, ordered the Prieſts to pay in all their Subſidies to the King, whereby, in thoſe ten Years of Dearth, the King purchaſed, at ſo low a Rate as giving the People a little Corn, all the Lands in Egypt. Theſe are Remarks of the ad⯑mirable Lord Shaftſbury, whoſe inimitable Style and clear Manner of Reaſoning carry Conviction with them.

I never knew any Clergyman who quoted him but to his Prejudice, except Dr. Turn⯑bull: And yet I cannot ſee why Morality, [271] or the Preaching of it, ſhould in any wiſe be offenſive to a Chriſtian; ſince there is a certain Beauty in Holineſs, which, tho' it were never to be hereafter rewarded, gives a ſincere Satisfaction and Quietude of Mind in this Life,—And therefore Virtue does ſtill,

All I would infer from this rambling Di⯑greſſion is,

And that Subtilty and Avarice have been almoſt inſeparable from the Prieſthood ever ſince the World began.

[272]But to return. Having at length paſſed the Pain and Peril of Child-birth, by the Care and Humanity of Dr. Arbuckle, I was in great Diſtreſs. It is true, Mr. P—n kindly adviſed me to leave my Child, which was a Female one, upon the Pariſh; and as he would willingly have done the ſame, or worſe, to thoſe whoſe Legitimacy he never queſtioned, I had the leſs Reaſon to blame him; but ſuch a Piece of Inhumani⯑ty I from Soul abhorred, nor could any thing prevail on me to put it in practice.

Mr. W—le went to Mallow, where at his Requeſt I ſent to him the following Poems.

[279]In Return, he ſent me the following Lines, which he aſſured me were his own.

Who wrote thoſe Lines I know not; but as I am certain the Author need not bluſh to acknowledge them, I hope he will not only pardon my Vanity in making them public, but alſo ſubſcribe to my Writings.

I can only aſſure the World, I believe Mr. W—le never wrote a poetical Line in his Life; and therefore I am indebted to ſome humane and ingenuous Perſon, who, ſuppoſing me guilty, makes an almoſt di⯑vine Apology for me.

But as it was impoſſible for me to ſubſiſt meerly on Praiſe, I made one ſtrong Effort [281] to deliver myſelf out of Calamity, which was, to beg Mr. P—n to ſend me ſome Money, to bear my Expences to London, aſſuring him I was weary of Ireland; which indeed was true: for I am of the ſame O⯑pinion with the pleaſant Lady Dorcheſter, that Dublin is a Place of the leaſt Sin, and the moſt Scandal, of any City in the World.

Perhaps the Reverſe would have better pleaſed her, as the Lord Chief Juſtice ſays to Falſtaff:

This Text wants no Comment.

But if my learned Huſband will oblige me with one, I ſhall be his very humble Servant. He has threatened to give a true and impartial Narrative of my Proceedings to the Public; and I wonder why he, who rides ſo faſt, has not got the Whip-hand [282] of me: I fear his Appeal comes half an Hour too late:

I am a ſad digreſſive Writer; by which my Readers may plainly perceive I am no Methodiſt.

Mr. P—n agreed to my Propoſal; and as he was fully determined never to give me any more, ſent me nine Pounds, for which, as he ſaid, he ſold my Diamond Ring to Mrs. Dubourg, and the Chain of my Watch, which coſt ſix Guineas, to Mrs. W—rr—n, for the Promiſe of forty Shil⯑lings; for which I ſuppoſe Mr. P—n and ſhe have ſince accounted. A good-na⯑tured Man will eaſily be ſatisfied with a [283] Lady that will return him a Toy for a Trinket.

Nothing that ever ſhe got vexed me ſo much as Mr. P—n's giving her my Fa⯑ther's Snuff-box, which he borrowed from me, under Pretence, that taking a little Snuff preſerved him from catching Sickneſs in Places he was obliged to go to. He de⯑clared to me he had loſt it; but I after⯑wards ſaw it with her, as alſo ſeveral other Things belonging to me.

But he is not the firſt Man who has plun⯑dered his Wife to oblige his —. As this Lady was, I may ſay, the principal Cauſe of a Separation between the Parſon and me, I thought I had a Right to de⯑mand a Subſcription from her; which, ſince my Return to Ireland, I did in very civil Terms. And I think myſelf in Duty bound to give my learned Readers a Taſte of her excellent Style, in anſwer to me.

I really took great Pains to find out th [...] Meaning of this elaborate Epiſtle; what i [...] is, future Critics (who are better ſkilled i [...] broken Engliſh) may decide. But I do aſ⯑ſure the Public it is genuine; which, if they doubt, I can produce it in the Lady's own Scrawl. This Lady ſent a Captain of a Ship to me, when ſhe heard I was going for England, to hurry me out of the King⯑dom; which Circumſtance made me ſtay in it ſix Months longer than I intended. And having not yet done with her, I can⯑not forbear remarking that one L—ty, a Painter, a rude Fellow, a few Nights after my Separation from the Parſon, took the [285] Liberty, on not readily finding him in his own Houſe, of breaking open his Bed-chamber Door, to which the Maid pointed, where the Lady and Gentleman were ad⯑miniſtering Chriſtian Conſolation to each other: Ill-bred as he was, when he found how Matters were, he begged Pardon for ſpoiling Sport; ‘'But Parſon, (ſaid he) I did but follow your own Example.'’ So he retired without drinking (though invited) Share of the Punch, of which ſtood a large Bowl before them; but Gold can work Miracles,

But I ſuppoſe this Widow was willing to have a Taſte before Matrimony. And I am certain Mr. P—n could not poſſibly have any other Motive for liking this Wo⯑man, but merely that ſhe was rich.

I ſtill continued ſcribbling for Mr. W—le, to whom I ſent to Mallow, the following Poems on ſeveral Occaſions, as he demanded them.

Theſe and fifty others, of which I have no Copy, did this Gentleman get from me, almoſt for nothing.

In the mean time, having received an un⯑expected Bounty from a Gentleman of very high Rank and diſtinguiſhed Honour, I wrote to him the following Lines.

At the Gentleman's own Requeſt I omit his Name; but when I ſay he is the elder Brother of the greateſt Man in this King⯑dom, he may, perhaps, be gueſſed at.

This worthy Gentleman ſoon afterwards fell ſick, on which I ſent him the following

Mr. W—le had the Conſcience to write to me, to deſire I would, by the Re⯑turn of the Poſt, ſend him a hundred Bal⯑lads of my own Compoſition, as he had al⯑ready begun to take in Subſcriptions for them; and on the Receipt of them, he would order a Gentleman to pay me two Guineas. I ſuppoſe he thought I could write as faſt as the Poet, whom Horace de⯑ſcribes ſtanding on one Leg, while he wrote a thouſand Lines: And becauſe I was un⯑able to comply with this Requeſt, he ſent me the following moſt ſtrange Epiſtle.

I concluded by this Letter, that the poor Man's Head was turned, and therefore, thought it not worth anſwering, being now ſeriouſly determined to leave Ireland; for, though I led the Life of a Recluſe, I had every Day ſome new Story invented of me. If I went out to take a little Air, they ſaid, I had great Impudence to ſhew my Face; and if I ſtaid at Home, I was then in Keep⯑ing with ſome Man who confined me; and, in ſhort, I could pleaſe nobody: Which gave riſe to the following Lines.

So theſe were the laſt Strains I ſung in Ireland; which, ill-uſed as I was in it, I could not quit without very great Regret; and as the Coach drove by Mr. P—n's Door, I thought my very Heart would ſplit with Sorrow; for there indeed was all the Treaſure of my Soul encloſed; namely, my dear little ones. Many a Sigh and Tear they coſt me; many a Prayer did I offer up to the Almighty for their Preſervation; and had he not been an infinitely more gra⯑cious Father to them, than their earthly one proved, long long ago had they been finally loſt!

My Eyes, even after I went on board the Yatch, were evermore turned to the Shore of Ireland, reſting there as on their laſt Period; till finding myſelf obſerved, and that ſome of the Paſſengers, Colonel Dalway in particular, wanted to ſee my [299] Face, which I concealed, I pretended to be Sea-ſick, and deſired the Steward to ſhew me a Cabin.

He left me for a few Minutes; and re⯑turning, told me, all the Beds were en⯑gaged; but however, there was a Gentle⯑man on board, who ſaid, he would ſooner ſit up, than a Lady be unprovided for. I returned my Compliments, without ever ſo much as enquiring to whom I was obliged.

The Sickneſs I feigned proved preſent⯑ly true; for no ſooner was the Ship under Sail, but I grew violently Sea-ſick; when the Steward once more entered the Cabin, and told me, the Gentleman, to whom it belonged, deſired a Moment's Chat with me. I begged him to make my Apology, as indeed, what with Sickneſs and Sorrow, I was little in Temper to receive any Perſon.

However, the Gentleman reſolved not to be ſo eaſily diſmiſſed; for following the Steward into my Cabin, he told me, he knew me to be Mrs. P—n; that, he could not ſit up all Night; and therefore, [300] he hoped I would not refuſe him the Li⯑berty of ſleeping in his own Bed.

I anſwered, I would not, provided he would be ſo kind as to leave me for a few Moments; on which, weak as I was, I ſprung out of Bed, and, as I had not un⯑dreſſed myſelf, ſoon met him upon Deck.

Who this fame Gentleman was, may, in due Seaſon, be revealed: I can only aſſure my Readers, that, I believe had I accepted of the Offers he made me, Pover⯑ty would never have approached me, as he was a Man of Honour, or at leaſt ap⯑peared to me as ſuch: A Man of Fortune he certainly is; and I doubt not but he has enjoyed many a lovely Lady, without promiſing them any Reward, or offering them a Settlement for Life, as he really did me.

I dined with him at Parkgate; and I hope Virtue will be rewarded; for though I had but five Guineas in the World to carry me up to London, I yet poſſeſſed Chaſtity enough to refuſe fifty for a Night's Lodging, and that too from a handſome well-bred Man, whoſe Name if I ſhould [301] inſert, all the World would acknowledge I ſpoke but Truth of him.

I ſhall ſcarcely ever forget his Words to me, as they ſeemed almoſt prophetic. ‘'Well, Madam, (ſaid he) you do not know London; you will be undone there.'’ ‘'Why, Sir, (ſaid I) I hope you do not imagine I will go into any bad Courſe of Life?'’ ‘'No, Madam, (ſaid he) but I think you will ſit in your Chamber, and ſtarve;'’ which, upon my Word, I have been pretty near doing; and, but that the Almighty raiſed me one worthy Friend, good old Mr. Cibber, to whoſe Humanity I am, under God, indebted both for Liberty and Life, I had been quite loſt.

I dare ſay, nobody will imagine he ſerved me from any carnal Views; ſince,

So here I cloſe the Firſt Volume; and as it has been induſtriouſly and maliciouſly [302] reported, that I had in reality nothing to publiſh, I hope this will convince the World, that Mrs. Pilkington was never yet reduced to the Meanneſs of Falſhood or Tricking. And if this Volume meets with a favourable Reception, I can aſſure my Readers, the next will be infinitely more entertaining, and is now ready for the Preſs.