Genuine memoirs of the life and adventures of the celebrated Miss Ann Elliot: Written by a gentleman intimately acquainted with her; ...

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MEMOIRS OF MISS ELLIOT.

MISS ANN ELLIOT, the subject of these memoirs, was born, at Tunbridge, of parents rather distinguished for their honesty than earthly riches. Her father was a shoemaker by trade; but business not answering his expectations, he was constrained to get his living by mending of shoes; which, being an industrious man, yielded him a comfortable subsistence. His wife also contributed what she could towards the support of a numerous offspring, by taking in washing, and sometimes going to gentlemens houses, where she was employed in the same occupation. I shall confine myself alone to our heroine's adventures, without mentioning any thing of the other children, whose histories contain little besides the common incidents of life.

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

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

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

My dear, said she, you are very young, and consequently have not been able to form such essential plans as one of riper years, more experience, and greater opportunities. You are now entered on a soone of life, perhaps the most difficult to prosecute with success. Censummate prudence, and the most heroic fortitude, are absolutely requisite to guide you through the thorny path that lies before you. Though you have beauty, breeding, and other accomplishments of a woman, these will avail you nothing, if you do not employ them as your main artillery in the conquest of men; whose passions, follies, and caprices, you must constantly study, as the principal springs by which you are to lead them at will.

The generality of men have many humours to be gratified, besides their amorous desires. Where vanity prevails, reserve must be used, and pretence to a consinement of your favour to a select number of men, and that upon a very perfect acquaintance only; by which you insinuate, that your company intitles you to a very genteel present. If you indulge a man with the enjoyment of your person at the first interview, you derogate from your consequcnce, and can expect but a tristing gratuity; for a woman's importance and difficulty of access ever decide her value. Remember, that while a silly girl, who is lavish of her favours, rots in an hospital, the artful reserved courtezan lives in pomp and splendor.

The first maxim on entering this way of life, is to declare perpetual war against the male sex in general; to love none, but secretly contemn, and artfully fleece them all.

This, my dear, is not the effect of revenge, but the dictates of self-love and female prudence. If either sex were to decide my hatred in proportion to their ill treatment, I should most detest my own; for to a woman, even that woman my mother, do I owe the cause of my prostitution.

My father, who was a farmer, dying when I was young, my mother, whom her husband's death had involved in great difficulties, had much ado to support me. As I grew up, I was taught the use of the needle, but I was far from having any inclination to such an employment. I did not reflect on the solid-reason my mother had for inuring me thus early to work, as I had no other provision than what I earned by my fingers. I continued living in this manner, till I was fourteen years old, the fatal aera of all my misfortunes. About this time my mother was hard pressed by our landlord for two years rent; for which, as she could not pay, he threatened a seizure; my mother took an opportunity to tell me, I had made my fortune, if I would act according to her dictates; for Mr. L—(the landlord) had actually desired me in marriage. I was charmed with the prospect of being a gentlewoman, and promised to obey her. He accordingly visited us once or twice a week, and was frequently left alone with me.

The day of sacrifice now approached, and my suitor came at the usual hour. My mother told me to dress myself, for she intended to pay a visit with me that evening in company with Mr. L—. Little suspecting the accursed design of my infamous parent, I went into my bed chamber, and had no sooner taken off my stays to change them for a better pair, than the landlord bounced into my room embraced me, and told me, he supposed I was acquainted with the subject of his visit. I answered only with a blush; he proceeded to indecent behaviour, upon which I loudly exclaimed against his damnable purpose on my irretrievable ruin.

My pious mother came, but not to my relief, for the monster insisted on my compliance, instead of endeavouring to rescue me from infamy, from prostitution: absolute force compelled me to submit, and I was thus cruelly sacrificed to the brutal lust of her vile landlord.

But as base designs are often rendered abortive, the sacrifice of her daughter's virtue exempted her not from the demand of the ungenerous, faithless, L—; for though he promised that the grant of a favour from me should acquit her in his accounts, yet as she had taken no receipt for the rent, when she detestably thought to barter my virtue, her goods were seized on in a few days, and she was turned almost naked out of doors.

The impious wretch died soon after in a goal, emaciated with the stings of conscience, and the prey of vermin, and I was left for a support on the wide world.

Necessity soon prompted me to have recourse to prostitution, and with that view I came to town, where, being a novice in the abandoned way of life, I was often cheated of my reward, nor was it long before I contracted a virulent distemper, too frequently attendant on unfortunate women. At length, I purchased experience at the dearest rate, and my calamity taught me prudence and circumspection.

From this time I always insisted on my fee beforehand, and if I had any suspicion of the state of my companion's health, I told him with a feigned countenance, that as he behaved like a gentleman, my ingenuity of temper obliged me to assure him, that I feared I had received an injury myself. If he still persisted, I was certain he was disordered, and peremptorily refused him. All who had a spark of generosity, greatly applauded me.

By these, and such like arts, after six years public prostitution, during which, I was only once injured, and that not materially, I acquired, through cunning and prudence, as much money as produced me an easy competence, by purchasing an annuity. Being above the necessities of life, I am no longer common. I can despise most men; their money indeed has charms; the best way however, is to flatter them with your love, and the expectation of enjoyment. Defer as long, therefore, as you can, the conferring of your favours, which once granted, cease to be such. In short, in all your proceedings, let your ultimate regard be to your own interest, and take care that your fond passions get not the ascendency over your reason, then will you ever have in view the motive of the men in solliciting intercourse with you, and your indespensible obligation of turning it to a solid advantage.

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

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

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

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

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

Observing that Monsieur PAPILLOTTE, after delivering his message, was preparing to take his leave with, a low bow, she told him she had something to ask him about Mr. BROWN, and desired him to sit down, which, after a modest excuse, he did. When he was seated, she drew her chair near his, and informing him, that she feared Mr. BROWN was inconstant, asked him how he thought a woman should behave to an inconstant lover? He answered, in that case he would deserve to experience the like infidelity from his mistress. By this she perceived that PAPILLOTTE understood her meaning, but in order to enforce it the more, she added, ‘Surely, Mr. PAPILLOTTE, you speak of inconstancy as a thing pardonable in our sex, as well as in your own.’ ‘Without doubt, Madam,’ replied he, ‘it is just de same ting; why shou'd de gentilhomme have any privilege dat is deny to de lady?’

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

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

‘I am, Madam, the son of a gentleman of considerable fortune in Paris. My father is the king's banker, and I enjoy an income equal to the rank I hold in the world. I was obliged to fly from my native country in consequence of a duel which I fought with a young count, whose sister, for whom I had a sincere love, had given her hand to another, in compliance to her brother's will, notwithstanding she had sworn never to be the wife of any other man than myself. To be short, Madam, I slew my antagonist, and immediately went home, told my father what had happened; he advised me to leave France directly, and having a post chaise, I arrived in 48 hours at Calais, where, finding the packet boat ready to sail, I embarked, and landed at Dover in about four hours, from whence I pursued my journey, post, to London. I endeavoured to forget my misfortunes, and have succeeded tolerably well; and the better to secure to myself a lasting tranquillity of mind, I have resolved to marry the first agreeable lady who will condescend to listen to my addresses, as the most effectual means of enjoying that happiness which I have been so long a stranger to. Deign therefore, charming Miss, to accept of this tender of my love, and allow me a place amongst your numberless admirers.’

Miss ELLIOT heard him with the greatest attention, not interrupting him once all the time he was speaking: when he had ended his discourse, she told him, that the subject of his conversation was too important to admit of a hasty determination, and therefore begged she might be allowed some time to consider of what he proposed to her. This request was so reasonable, that he was under an absolute necessity of complying with it, and she having given him her address, they parted.

Our heroine, who was as much deceived in her new acquaintance as he could possibly be in her, ruminated with herself, how she should reap most advantage from her intimacy with him. One afternoon, as she sat reading in her dining room, she heard a loud knocking at the door; and, presently after, the maid came to tell her, that a foreign gentleman's servant waited below with a message to deliver to her from his master. Miss ELLIOT ordered her to show him up stairs directly; and at his entrance he acquainted her, ‘That his master, the Marquis de MARIVEAUX, desired the favour of permission to pay his respects to her, which he should esteem equally a pleasure and an honour.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hence she was adapted to the different tempers and dispositions of the students who frequent this seminary of Venus, and could turn their several inclinations and peculiarities to her own emolument.

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

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

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

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

Having delivered herself from the irksome fondling of an impotent letcher, she hastened to the embraces of youth. ul vigour, and made one of a brilliant assembly that evening, where she had the satisfaction of being taken notice of by a young nobleman, who having attained the long wished-for term of twenty one, and being in possession of a large estate, was determined to have the handsomest mistress that could be met with; and for that reason rejoiced at this fortunate rencounter.

Miss ELLIOT, whose person and disposition were entirely formed for a lady of pleasure, and who was remarkable for never remaining long in one place, without gaining a particular admirer, could not fail of engaging the heart of Sir THOMAS—, who from that time took her into keeping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He jumped at the hint, and a meeting was appointed: The old lady of the house presided, and proposed, that whatever they earned in their respective occupations, should become a joint stock, and be reserved for their mutual demands and exigencies. The proposal was readily agreed to by both parties, who, after taking a chearful glass with their old friend, repaired to a lodging provided by Mr. C—rke the gamester. After a good supper, it was deliberated between them, what steps Miss ELLIOT should pursue; and Mr. C—rke, professing the sincerest regard for his amiable companion, and lamenting the low ebb of his finances, which prevented the strongest proofs of his passion, offered to recommend her to the chief waiter at the best house in the garden; expressing, at the same time, how disagreeable it was to him to act so mean a part, as that of pimp to a pimp; but that necessity had no law, and it was prudent some times to hold a candle to the devil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This conduct greatly redounded to her interest; for Lord R—hf—d, grateful in disposition, and profusely generous in love, was daily loading her with presents, insomuch, that notwithstanding her disbursements to Mr. C—rke, whom she now maintained in splendor, she amassed a very considerable sum.

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

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

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

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

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

After so severe a reprimand, she endeavoured to appease his anger, but finding that neither tears nor intreaty would prevail, she retired to a separate chamber and spent the night in ruminating on the dismal consequences that were likely to attend the imprudent conduct of herself and Mr. C—rke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As the connexion was not entirely broken off between him and Miss ELLIOT, (for she could as yet procure a trifle on her cloaths) she partook of the present, and was at length convinced of the self-interestedness of Mr. C—ke. When she upbraided him with the disingenuity of his conduct, instead of a due acknowledgment, he treated her with the utmost disdain; told her to have no farther dependence on him; and packing up the few rags he had lest, bounced out of the room, which he never more entered.

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

She was now brought to the most perplexing dilemma; she not only wanted money, but cloaths, the most necessary appendage of her profession; nor could she take one step to her advantage in her present garb.

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

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

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

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

In this forlorn situation, she found herself under a necessity of making an acquaintance with some of the inhabitants of this immured mansion. As to the female inmates, they were for the most part, like herself, ladies of pleasure; who having in general lost their credit, were thrown there in hopes some kind gentleman, with more money than wit, would pity and release them from their confinement, by discharging their debts,

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

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

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

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

Our heroine had not been many days confined before she met with an old acquaintance, under the same circumstances with herself: this was Mr. N—rth, who, thinking himself i•l used by the impertinent demands of his creditors, had determined to punish their insolence, by taking the benefit of the act of grace.

Here was a plain proof of the meanness of soul of this pretended gentleman, who could condescend to such low subterfuges to evade the payment of his just debts, and submit to the loss of his reputation, and the publication of his name to all the world as a common cheat, in order to open a way for a renewal of his villainies in some part where he was less known.

Thus, remote from the gayer scenes of life, she had time to reflect on the miseries, attending her profession, and from which she had now no possible view of being delivered. Being destitute of money, and every thing that could procure it; and Mr. M—y, who had introduced her to the stage, being unable to afford her the assistance she required, she sent for Mrs. Lamb, remonstrated with her on the folly of depriving her of all possibility of making her any compensation; and told her, that if she would release her from confinement, she would resign herself wholly to her disposal, and submit to any terms she should please to propose.

This humble behaviour of Miss ELLIOT induced her compassionate creditor to soften a little, so that her proposal was complied with, and she released, after giving a promissary note to her benefactress, and therby devoting herself to the service of a wretch lost to virtue, justice, and humanity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The worthy officers of the night now began to make the necessary preparations for conducting the prisoners to the magistrate; at whose residence, when they arrived they remained some time in the antichamber, before they could gain admittance to his worship's presence. At length they received notice to appear before him; and the elderly lady, being an housekeeper, was first examined.

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

While the clerk was preparing her mittimus, the gentleman came in who had been in her company the preceeding night, in order to make deposition of his having had his pocket picked of his watch. This gentleman declared upon oath, that there was nobody in the room but the bawd and his enamorata; upon which the arch hypocrite fell on her knees, and with artful tears protested her innocence; but the justice giving her a sign, she returned the watch, with which the owner retired contentedly, and the poor girl was committed.

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

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

The reader will please to observe, that in all her troubles, her dear M—y, by whose consent she had admitted others to a participation of the same favours with which she indulged him, never was in a condition to afford her any relief in all her distresses, or to contribute in the least towards extricating her out of any difficulty she fell into. She had therefore no resource lest, but to form the best plan she could in her former unhappy station in life.

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

A variety of incidents had taught her the necessity of a gaudy outside shew, and a double tongue, in order to accomplish the different schemes of a woman of pleasure; so that she became versed in all the chicanery that constitutes experienced guilt. Her prevailing love of novelty rendered her a more agreeable companion to each successive cully; and prompted her to a behaviour that frequently extorted gratuities from that part of female admirers, who prefer the giving to the receiving of pleasure in amorous encounters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did not, however, long enjoy her present good fortune; for being discovered to have been a little too free with one of the waiters, she was immediately dismissed from the house of her keeper, who loaded her with reproaches for her infidelity to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notwithstanding this stroke of adverse fortune, she still rose higher from the rebound. She remained, however, for some time in an obscure state; and though she did not publicly walk the streets as before, yet she had a set of constant customers, who either visited her at her own lodgings, or else sent for her to some tavern or bagnio. This flow of business, though, if I may be allowed the expression, only in the retail way, enabled her to live comfortably, and by degrees encrease her little stock of clothes, without being forced to run in debt for them. In proportion, as her wardrobe became more valuable, her trade increased; and being at length able to appear with some degree of propriety in a side box, she did not fail of making many valuable conquests: adversity, the best mistress of frugality, having shewed the inconveniences resulting from extravagance, made her now regulate her expences within the bounds of moderation.

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

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

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

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

Notwithstanding her concern at his departure, she took care to avail herself of his absence; for being now her own mistress, she admitted the visits of a croud of young fellows, and led a life of uninterrupted pleasures till his return, which she esteemed one of the most unfortunate accidents that could befal her; though she was as successful in counterfeiting joy upon seeing him again, as she had been in affecting grief at being separated from him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He submitted to the custom she imposed; and after two hours distant conference took his leave: but, on the second visit, he presented her with a gold snuff-box, containing a very valuable commodity, which prevented any farther remonstrances on her part. However, she informed him, she was engaged all the week with Mr. Ed—ds, and would be at his service at the expiration of that time. The appointed period being come, his lordship waited on her, and presented her with a diamond ring, with which she seemed extremely satisfied. He passed the evening with her, and was so enraptured with her company, that he not only protested he had never been so happy in his life, but repeated his visits every other day for a month, when he made her very handsome presents, and she made him the satisfactory returns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the other hand the captain was extremely cautious in his conduct towards her: which, as it laid him under great restraint, he thought deserved to be rewarded by some private interviews, wherein they might have the pleasure of securely gratifying their mutually ardent passions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A separation was now deemed absolutely necessary; and accordingly Miss ELLIOT set out for London, where being arrived, she took genteel lodgings near Cavendish-square, and lived in great splendor, till the D— of C— returned to England, which happened in about a month after her last adventure.

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

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

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

Thus they lived happy in the enjoyment of each other about nine months, during which time Miss ELLIOT had several other private intrigues; particularly, 〈◊〉 captain R—rts, who was doatingly fond of her, and made her many valuable presents. This intercourse with the captain drew on her the resentment of a young lady, much remarked for her beauty and other female accomplishments; and had well nigh produced an open rupture between her and the French count, who, excepting a small tincture of jealousy in his temper, was the most affable good natured man in the world. As we shall have occasion to say something about the lady kept by captain R—rts, it will be proper to give the following sketch of her life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A handsome fellow, and a red coat, could not fail of pleasing her; as she discovered, not only by his looks, but several squeezes of the hand, unperceived by the rest of the company, that he saw her in as favourable a light as she did him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As soon as she was well enough to sit up, she gave Miss ELLIOT a faithful account of all that had happened to her after her elopement with the barber. She related how he had stripped her of every thing, and left her with child: that she had, by the interest of friends, procured its admission into the Foundling-hospital: that after a variety of adventures, attended with different success, she became at length reduced to the lowest state of prostitution; and having contracted a distemper very common among ladies of her stamp, she with difficulty procured a letter of admission into the hospital, where she had found a way of acquainting her sister with her deplorable state.

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

And here I cannot help making the following few reflections on the unhappiness so essentially connected with the life of a prostitute; which, tho' it is most desp•••ble, is certainly most piteous; and if persons would but candidly reflect on the too general cause of prostitution, they would smooth the wrinkled brow of contempt, and from the frown of disdain, dissolve into the tear of compassion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One day her spies brought her word, that her lord was engaged with some company to go to Ranelagh; she took the hint, and disguising herself, went thither also. She had not been long there before she saw her husband in an arbour with Miss ELLIOT; and placing herself in a convenient spot, where she could see all that passed without being perceived, she beheld them in a posture which soon convinced her that she had no reason to discredit the report she had heard. She instantly quitted the gardens, and returned home, firmly resolved to let his lordship know, that she was not unacquainted with his dishonourable treatment of her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After enjoyment, he could see no other endearment than her fortune. He possessed himself of it, and quitted his quarters. He came to London, hired an elegant house, purchased rich furniture, and set up a genteel equipage; he dressed as well as any man in town, and kept as good company. To keep good company, and be ruined, with a young man are almost synonymous terms. Two months frequenting Arthur's carried off his wife's fortune and the sale of his commission. A few levants at the chocolate-house proscribed him. Here terminated his present glory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After he had thus insinuated himself into her good graces, he began to feel her pulse upon the score of matrimony. Nothing ever appeared so inanimate and rigid at first: but when he began to talk of spiritual love, unsullied with lustful thoughts, she gave ear to him, and was at length of opinion, that a woman might enter into the state of matrimony only, without being irretrievably damned, provided there were always seperate beds. He entirely acquiesced in whatever she said; and after about half a year's spiritual courtship, they took each other for better for worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the hour of connubial felicity approached, her husband led her to her chamber, and retired through decency, as she supposed, till she was in bed. He then returned; and having undressed himself, and extinguished the candles, came to her as she thought. But how great was her surprise in the morning, when she discover'd in bed her former lover, and not her husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To A—M—y, Esq

DEAR SIR,

I have too great a regard for your and my own peace of mind, to see you in my present situation; as such an interview must be equally distresting. I cannot leave the world, however, without thanking you for the many favours I have from time to time received from you, as well as through your means. They are too many to be mentioned at present; I must, however, particularize two, which breathe an air of generosity, that, I think, must exalt your character in the estimation of the worthy, as much as it did you in mine, who was the immediate gainer: the first was your literary present; which, tho' I was a sufferer by it, manifested your good intentions to serve me; and the other, your introducing me to the notice of a personage, by whom I might have made (had my days been lengthened) a genteel independence.

I have left you my executor in my will, and a small present, tho' I hope the remembrance of me need not be supported by any other assistance than our past connexions.

Adieu for ever, A. E.

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

I cannot take leave of my readers without making some few moral reflections on the miserable condition of those unhappy women, whose circumstances oblige them to owe their subsistence to prostitution. They may be considered in two classes: The first are those, who, lost to every sense or virtue, are engaged in this detestable way of life by choice: others are under the cruel necessity of submitting to all the evils which attend the life of prostitutes, because they are abandoned by their parents, relations, friends, and acquaintance, for having too easily listened to the delusive persuasions of the deceiver, man; which generally terminate in the destruction of those unhappy girls, who are too easily persuaded to their own ruin. How many are there now in our streets, who once knew the happiness of treading the paths of virtue, but who are now immerged in the gulph of wickedness, deserred by all who knew them, for one false step; which perhaps was more owing to the influence which some villain had over their innocent and inexperienced minds, than to a natural inclination for vice. Many of these would with joy embrace any opportunity which offers of getting bread in some other shape, rather than continue any longer in their present misery. The wisdom of our legislature has taken this into consideration, and a proper place has been provided for the reception of such as were found willing to reform their abandoned lives; and we see the salutary efeffects of this institution, by the rapid progress already made in the reclaiming of a great many. Oh man! how canst thou with such glaring impudence look up to heaven, the seat of the Almighty, after having so shamefully effected the ruin of the fairest part of the creation, by robbing, them of the most inestimable treasure they possessed, their virtue; and thereby subjected them to a life of disorder and misery, which must inevitably terminate in despair. How deplorable is the situation of those who have been hurried on to their own ruin in this world, and eternal perdition in the next. I could wish that a law were enacted, obliging every man who thus seduces a virtuous girl, either to marry the object of their lust, or make such a provision for her as would entirely, screen her from the necessity of seeking a livelihood by becoming a common prostitute; or else be condemned to immediate death, after lawful conviction of the crime.

It may be objected that many would do this, but through indigence of circumstances are incapable of it. Let them consider before hand, for in this case nothing ought to shelter them from the punishment they incur by thus effecting the ruin of an innocent young woman. If this proceeding were once adopted, how many women, who at present are a scandal to their sex, would then live ornaments to human society, and their beauty and virtue would be revered by all who are any way connected with them.

The other class of unhappy women is composed of such who are so by their own choice: and even some of these are inbebted for their first introduction to wickedness, to the traitor man. Others there are indeed, who have been the first to solicit our sex to ruin them. But let these reflect, that conscience is the faithful register of all our actions, the unbiassed witness of our conduct, and the equitable judge of all we do. When conscience approves of our actions, we find in it a resource in all our afflictions, we are helped by it to support under the weight of misfortunes; and we are thereby assured of one day being admitted to a participation of eternal joys.

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

—Prolixa jacet sedes in nocte profunda.

Abdita, quacircum, flumina nigra sonant,

Or, as Horace says,

— Hic murus aheneus esto,

Nil conscire sibi, nulla pal•e•ce•e culpa.

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

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

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

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

Consider, ye deluded fair, the shortness of your Life. This is generally forgotten in the slumber of wickedness. So deeply is the love of pleasure rooted in mens hearts, and so strongly guarded by hope and fear against the approach of reason, that neither science nor experience can shake it, and they act as if life was without end, though they see and confess its uncertainty and shortness.

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

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

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

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

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

FINIS.

Notes

1
He came however much against her will, as appears from her letter to him at the end of this history.
↵

GENUINE MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE CELEBRATED MISS ANN ELLIOT.

WRITTEN BY A GENTLEMAN Intimately acquainted with her; and to whom she communicated the most interesting Passages of her LIFE.

Several FACTS are also taken from her own LETTERS.

LONDON: Printed for J. FELL, No. 14, Pater-noster-Row; AND J. Roson, No. 54, St. Martin's Le Grand. MDCCLXIX.

This Day are publish'd, (Price 2s. 6d. sew'd)

MEMOIRS of the Amours, Intrigues, and Adventures of Charles Augustus Fitz-Roy, DUKE of GRAFTON, with Miss PARSONS, interspersed with a faithful Account of Miss PARSONS'S Amours with other Persons of Distinction.

Printed for S. Caldicot, in Bell-Savage Yard, Ladgate-Hill.

Who has also Published, (Price 1s. 6d.

THE Case, &c. of the ORPHAN and CREDITORS of JOHN AYLIFFE, Esq. for the Opinion of the Public; with an ADDENDA of interesting QUERIES for the Answer of those whom it concerns. The whole fairly stated, and indisputably authenticated from Originals.

Hast thou killed, and hast thou also taken possession? Thus saith the Lord, in the place where dogs licked the blood of Nabath shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine; because thou hast sold thyself to work evil in the sight of the Lord, behold I will bring evil upon thee, and will take away thy posterity.

And Likewise,

Genuine Memoirs of the Luttrell Family, of a very extraordinany Nature. (Price 1s. 6d.

Information about this book

Title statement

Genuine memoirs of the life and adventures of the celebrated Miss Ann Elliot: Written by a gentleman intimately acquainted with her; ...

Murphy, Arthur, 1727-1805.

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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3330

ID [isbn10]

1106003292

ID [isbn13]

9781106003294

ID [TCP]

K001176.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310438241

ID [ECLL]

0160800300

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— Genuine memoirs of the life and adventures of the celebrated Miss Ann Elliot: Written by a gentleman intimately acquainted with her; ..., Murphy, Arthur, 1727-1805.. [2],179,[1]p. ; 12⁰. London :: printed for J. Fell; and J. Roson,. 1769.. [Anonymous. By Arthur Murphy.] [Reproduction of original from the Harvard University Houghton Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCN1818.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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