The Fortunate Mistress (Parts 1 and 2)

me, and I had some of mydullest thoughts about me, that Amy, hearing me sigh pretty often, askedme if I was not well. "Yes, Amy, I am well enough," says I, "but my mindis oppressed with heavy thoughts, and has been so a good while;" andthen I told her how it grieved me that I could not make myself known tomy own children, or form any acquaintances in the world. "Why so?" saysAmy. "Why, prithee, Amy," says I, "what will my children say tothemselves, and to one another, when they find their mother, howeverrich she may be, is at best but a whore, a common whore? And as foracquaintance, prithee, Amy, what sober lady or what family of anycharacter will visit or be acquainted with a whore?"

  "Why, all that's true, madam," says Amy; "but how can it be remediednow?" "'Tis true, Amy," said I, "the thing cannot be remedied now, butthe scandal of it, I fancy, may be thrown off."

  "Truly," says Amy, "I do not see how, unless you will go abroad again,and live in some other nation where nobody has known us or seen us, sothat they cannot say they ever saw us before."

  That very thought of Amy put what follows into my head, and I returned,"Why, Amy," says I, "is it not possible for me to shift my being fromthis part of the town and go and live in another part of the city, oranother part of the country, and be as entirely concealed as if I hadnever been known?"

  "Yes," says Amy, "I believe it might; but then you must put off all yourequipages and servants, coaches and horses, change your liveries--nay,your own clothes, and, if it was possible, your very face."

  "Well," says I, "and that's the way, Amy, and that I'll do, and thatforthwith; for I am not able to live in this manner any longer." Amycame into this with a kind of pleasure particular to herself--that is tosay, with an eagerness not to be resisted; for Amy was apt to beprecipitant in her motions, and was for doing it immediately. "Well,"says I, "Amy, as soon as you will; but what course must we take to doit? We cannot put off servants, and coach and horses, and everything,leave off housekeeping, and transform ourselves into a new shape all ina moment; servants must have warning, and the goods must be sold off,and a thousand things;" and this began to perplex us, and in particulartook us up two or three days' consideration.

  At last Amy, who was a clever manager in such cases, came to me with ascheme, as she called it. "I have found it out, madam," says she, "Ihave found a scheme how you shall, if you have a mind to it, begin andfinish a perfect entire change of your figure and circumstances in oneday, and shall be as much unknown, madam, in twenty-four hours, as youwould be in so many years."

  "Come, Amy," says I, "let us hear of it, for you please me mightily withthe thoughts of it." "Why, then," says Amy, "let me go into the citythis afternoon, and I'll inquire out some honest, plain sober family,where I will take lodgings for you, as for a country gentlewoman thatdesires to be in London for about half a year, and to board yourself anda kinswoman--that is, half a servant, half a companion, meaning myself;and so agree with them by the month. To this lodging (if I hit upon oneto your mind) you may go to-morrow morning in a hackney-coach, withnobody but me, and leave such clothes and linen as you think fit, but,to be sure, the plainest you have; and then you are removed at once; younever need set your foot in this house again" (meaning where we thenwere), "or see anybody belonging to it. In the meantime I'll let theservants know that you are going over to Holland upon extraordinarybusiness, and will leave off your equipages, and so I'll give themwarning, or, if they will accept of it, give them a month's wages. ThenI'll sell off your furniture as well as I can. As to your coach, it isbut having it new painted and the lining changed, and getting newharness and hammercloths, and you may keep it still or dispose of it asyou think fit. And only take care to let this lodging be in some remotepart of the town, and you may be as perfectly unknown as if you hadnever been in England in your life."

  This was Amy's scheme, and it pleased me so well that I resolved notonly to let her go, but was resolved to go with her myself; but Amy putme off of that, because, she said, she should have occasion to hurry upand down so long that if I was with her it would rather hinder thanfurther her, so I waived it.

  In a word, Amy went, and was gone five long hours; but when she cameback I could see by her countenance that her success had been suitableto her pains, for she came laughing and gaping. "O madam!" says she, "Ihave pleased you to the life;" and with that she tells me how she hadfixed upon a house in a court in the Minories; that she was directed toit merely by accident; that it was a female family, the master of thehouse being gone to New England, and that the woman had four children,kept two maids, and lived very handsomely, but wanted company to diverther; and that on that very account she had agreed to take boarders.

  Amy agreed for a good, handsome price, because she was resolved I shouldbe used well; so she bargained to give her L35 for the half-year, andL50 if we took a maid, leaving that to my choice; and that we might besatisfied we should meet with nothing very gay, the people were Quakers,and I liked them the better.

  I was so pleased that I resolved to go with Amy the next day to see thelodgings, and to see the woman of the house, and see how I liked them;but if I was pleased with the general, I was much more pleased with theparticulars, for the gentlewoman--I must call her so, though she was aQuaker--was a most courteous, obliging, mannerly person, perfectlywell-bred and perfectly well-humoured, and, in short, the most agreeableconversation that ever I met with; and, which was worth all, so grave,and yet so pleasant and so merry, that 'tis scarcely possible for me toexpress how I was pleased and delighted with her company; andparticularly, I was so pleased that I would go away no more; so I e'entook up my lodging there the very first night.

  In the meantime, though it took up Amy almost a month so entirely to putoff all the appearances of housekeeping, as above, it need take me up notime to relate it; 'tis enough to say that Amy quitted all that part ofthe world and came pack and package to me, and here we took up ourabode.

  I was now in a perfect retreat indeed, remote from the eyes of all thatever had seen me, and as much out of the way of being ever seen or heardof by any of the gang that used to follow me as if I had been among themountains in Lancashire; for when did a blue garter or a coach-and-sixcome into a little narrow passage in the Minories or Goodman's Fields?And as there was no fear of them, so really I had no desire to see them,or so much as to hear from them any more as long as I lived.

  I seemed in a little hurry while Amy came and went so every day atfirst, but when that was over I lived here perfectly retired, and with amost pleasant and agreeable lady; I must call her so, for, though aQuaker, she had a full share of good breeding, sufficient to her if shehad been a duchess; in a word, she was the most agreeable creature inher conversation, as I said before, that ever I met with.

  I pretended, after I had been there some time, to be extremely in lovewith the dress of the Quakers, and this pleased her so much that shewould needs dress me up one day in a suit of her own clothes; but myreal design was to see whether it would pass upon me for a disguise.

  Amy was struck with the novelty, though I had not mentioned my design toher, and when the Quaker was gone out of the room says Amy, "I guessyour meaning; it is a perfect disguise to you. Why, you look quiteanother body; I should not have known you myself. Nay," says Amy, "morethan that, it makes you look ten years younger than you did."

  Nothing could please me better than that, and when Amy repeated it, Iwas so fond of it that I asked my Quaker (I won't call her landlady;'tis indeed too coarse a word for her, and she deserved a muchbetter)--I say, I asked her if she would sell it. I told her I was sofond of it that I would give her enough to buy her a better suit. Shedeclined it at first, but I soon perceived that it was chiefly in goodmanners, because I should not dishonour myself, as she called it, to puton her old clothes; but if I pleased to accept of them, she would giveme them for my dressing-clothes, and go with me, and buy a suit for methat might be better worth my wearing.

  But as I conversed in a very frank, open manner with her, I bid her dothe like with me; that I made no scruples of such thing
s, but that ifshe would let me have them I would satisfy her. So she let me know whatthey cost, and to make her amends I gave her three guineas more thanthey cost her.

  This good (though unhappy) Quaker had the misfortune to have had a badhusband, and he was gone beyond sea. She had a good house, and wellfurnished, and had some jointure of her own estate which supported herand her children, so that she did not want; but she was not at all abovesuch a help as my being there was to her; so she was as glad of me as Iwas of her.

  However, as I knew there was no way to fix this new acquaintance likemaking myself a friend to her, I began with making her some handsomepresents and the like to her