Olinda's Adventures: or the Amours of a Young Lady Part 2

LETTER VII.

_AMbrisia's_ Cruel, Coy, Disdainful, and you believe she hates you; and yet _Ambrisia_ took occasion at Play to impose upon you as a Penance, not to write for a Month to one she believ'd you lov'd. If this had been another's Case, you wou'd have discover'd that _Ambrisia's_ Jealous.

Trust me, she loves you, and only puts on the usual Disguises of Women as sincere as she is; and give me leave to justifie her, and the rest of our s.e.x in that Case: You have learn'd so well to feign Love, when you have none, that 'tis very hard to discern Art from Nature; and 'tis but reasonable we should be allow'd the less Guilty part of concealing ours, till we can know whether you are sincere: Besides, we know those things are most valu'd, that are obtain'd with most difficulty; and your natural Inconstancy gives us Reason to use all means to make you prize us as much as we can. Your selves too, encourage us in it, for you despise a Woman that's easily gain'd, tho' you rail at the Dissembler; and we can't begin to love just when you would have us; so that both for our own sake and yours, 'tis sometimes necessary to deceive you: And I believe I may add, that there is a Natural Modesty in some Women, that makes 'em asham'd to own their Love. Mr. _Dryden_ in his _State of Innocence_, gives our Mother _Eve_ a little of that; tho' some are of Opinion, it had its Birth from your faithlessness; and that if you had not been false, we had never been shie. If it be so, don't you think we have Reason to be cautious in a thing of such Weight; But I need not take such pains to defend this Cause, for mine was a Fault on the other hand, a too easie discovery of my Love: And to speak the Truth, whatever we are accus'd of, I believe that's the more general one. 'Tis only those that are as Wise as your Mistress, that can have so much Command over themselves, as to be guilty of the 'tother; tho' if she knew you as well as I do, she wou'd find that she has no need to make use of any Arts to try you, or to preserve you: However don't despair, the Mask will soon fall off. You have Reason to wonder at my breaking off with _Orontes_, since by what I have told you, _Cloridon_ cou'd be no occasion of it: But suspend your amazement a little, tho' my Misfortunes ended at Seventeen, my Adventures did not, and several things have happenn'd to me in the Year I have pa.s.s'd since, which you are yet a Stranger to. You neither know how my Acquaintance begun with _Orontes_, nor why it ended. In the beginning of last Summer, when I was endeavouring to divert my Love and Grief, I went with a Lady to see a Play: She was not in humour to Dress, and would needs have me go _Incognito_; and as we were coming out of the Play-House, we were seiz'd upon by two Sparks, who swore they would not part with us; but that either we should Sup with them, or they wou'd go with us. We did not know how to be rid of these Impertinents, but we saw, if we took Coach, we could not hinder them from going into it; so we resolv'd to walk to our Mantua-maker, who liv'd hard by; and when we went in they left us, as we thought: but a quarter of an hour after, they came up Stairs, and tho' we were very angry at the Rudeness, yet they staid a pretty while; and he that had at first apply'd himself to the other Lady, was very pressing to be acquainted with her; but my Spark sat down just opposite to me without saying a Word, only sometimes desir'd his Friend to go away; which after he had plagu'd us half an Hour, they did: The next Week I went to _Tunbridge_ with my Mother; and the first sight I saw at the Wells, was this Gentleman: He came towards us very respectfully, and said he was very glad of this opportunity of begging my Pardon, for the Insolence he had been guilty of; he hop'd the Lady who was with us, whom he had the Honour to know, would intercede for him. She that was in the Country with us, and who you know is an intimate Friend of ours, happen'd to be very well acquainted with him; and when we came home, she told me that his Name was _Orontes_; that he was a Gentleman who had but a small Fortune; but to repair it, he was Marry'd to a rich Widow above Threescore and ten; that tho' she was very ill Natur'd, he was the best Husband in the World to her, but he would take his pleasure abroad sometimes, and she was extreamly Jealous. He came to visit this Lady, and entreated her to carry him to see me; for he said he was sensible of the Affront he had given me the first time he saw me, and that he was very desirous of some Occasion to serve me; and he thought himself obliged to tell me so, and to seek all Opportunities of doing it. She consented to it; and he came often to see us, and was very obliging to us. I will let you know my thoughts of him, because you can tell me if they are just; for he said he was not the same Man with me as with any Body else: He seem'd to me to have Wit enough, but 'twas rough and unpolish'd; nothing of that Politeness which renders a Man agreeable in Conversation. After the common Theams of the Weather, and News were discuss'd, playing at Cards, or taking the Air, were certainly propos'd: But I have heard, that in other places he was very entertaining, and had a hundred pleasant Stories to divert the Company. What can be the reason of this? I am sure he stood in no awe of me, as his future Actions shew'd; and he always told me his Thoughts freely, but plain and blunt, without giving 'em the turn of Gallantry, which is necessary to take; and yet he could not want Breeding, for he always convers'd with People of the First Quality. The Manner is often more look'd upon than the Thing; and tho' I'm as little pleased with Forms as any Woman, yet in some things 'tis the essential part; there are few Men, whose Esteem or Respect I covet; but I would have all Men keep that distance with me, as if I gave 'em Awe; but I could never obtain it of 'em; tho' none ever gave me so much occasion to lament it as _Orontes_. Once, when he was at our Lodging, my Mother was talking of a Journey she design'd the next day about Ten Miles off, where she was to stay all Night: He asked me if I went with her: I said _No_; and desired my Mother to return as soon as she could; because I should be alone till then. It seems (as he told me since) he had made an Appointment with a particular Friend of his about Business of Importance; but having been long desired to see me alone, he would not neglect this Occasion, and sent him an Epistolary Excuse in these Words:

_My Wife thinks I am with you, but_ Olinda _told me she shall be alone to day, and I don't know when I shall meet with so favourable an Opportunity; so that you must excuse me; but I'll certainly see you to morrow_.

His Wife, being always suspicious of Letters she did not read, went to the Post-House after this: They made no scruple to give it her; because they knew 'twas one of their Servants had brought it; and when she had read it, she went home in all haste, and had her Husband dog'd to my Lodgings. When he came there he told me, that the first time he saw me, he lik'd my Shape and Mien, and was extreamly taken with my Face, that he durst not so much as ask me Pardon whilst he saw me so angry; and that since he was acquainted with me, my Humour had charm'd him so, that he could be content to leave all the World for me: And then, Laughing, ask'd me, If I could live with him, and he would keep me a Coach, and let me want nothing I could desire. I rally'd with him till he begun to talk more seriously, and then I check'd him for his Insolence; but it had no effect upon him; And when he saw that neither Promises nor Intreaties could move me, and that Opportunity favour'd him, he resolved to try what Violence would do; he had sent our Servant a Mile off for to fetch some Fruit, which, he said, was the best about the Country; and we were in a back Room near no Body in the House, so that I was in great Fear; however I made all the noise and Resistance I could, and was happily delivered by his old Lady's coming in: She might easily perceive we were both in Confusion, tho' she hardly guess'd the true Cause; and I was so good natur'd as not to tell it her. When she rail'd, we bore it with a great deal of Patience, and indeed I wonder'd at his Moderation: I really thought he would have let her beat me to revenge his Cause; but he was not so much a Brute, he hinder'd her, and very civilly led her away. The next day I saw him at the Wells, and whilst my Company was Raffling, he took the opportunity to talk with me, though I avoided him with all the Diligence I could. _Don't frown upon me, Olinda_, says he, _you ought to forgive me; Repentance is all that Heaven requires, and I never in my Life did an Action that troubled me so much; but if you have not good Nature enough to pardon me upon that, I must say something to excuse my self: If I believ'd you Virtuous before, it must be by an implicit Faith; but the way to be sure was to try it; and now I shall always admire that Virtue I could not subdue: Why then should you be angry with me any longer than my Fault remains?_ Though I had a little Prejudice against him, I thought he spoke with more Eloquence, and a better Grace, than ever I heard him before; it may be his Concern inspir'd him; but 'twas to little purpose, for I was inexorable. I told him, _I did not think him worth my Anger, and should easily forgive him, upon Condition he would never see me any more: No_, Madam, said he, _I'd rather see you angry, than not see you at all_: But in spight of me, he visited us often; but I always entertain'd him with a coldness that did not much please him, though no Body else perceiv'd it. We came to Town in the beginning of _September_, and he was once at our House, and found me alone: He began to talk of a violent Pa.s.sion he had for me; but I stop'd him, and said, _That was not a Discourse fit for me to hear from him_. I commanded him to leave me; and told him if he ever came there again, I wou'd be deny'd to him. He obey'd me, and I did not see him again till _November_. He came in Mourning, and told us he had had the misfortune to bury his Wife. He Writ to my Mother to desire her leave to make his Addresses to me; which she gave him, and then he appear'd a declar'd Lover. I was so us'd to receive him with Anger and Disdain, that though I had not the same Reason now, I did not change my Behaviour to him; and for four Months my Mother let me take my own way, without speaking one word of _Orontes_ to me: Either she design'd to observe what I wou'd do of my self, or she did not think it fit to talk of my Marrying him so soon after his Wife's Death; but when she saw I slighted him so long, she said to me one day, What do you mean Child, to receive with equal indifference all the Proposals that are made to you? Do you resolve to lead a single Life? I should approve of the choice in one of a better Fortune; but you must conform your self to yours, and consider that I am not able to maintain you. If you don't hate _Orontes_, I will have you Marry him, he has given so great proof of his being a good Husband, that you can't fear he will be otherwise to you; he is Handsome enough, and very Rich; I believe he loves you, and in fine, I think you may be as happy with him as with any Man; therefore, don't be obstinately bent against your own good. He came in at the same time, and seconded this command of my Mothers with Intreaties and Complaints. I had no Aversion for him, and since my Circ.u.mstances wou'd oblige me to Marry, and that I knew I could never love any Man; I thought it might as well be he as any other; so in sometime after I yielded, and the Wedding-day was appointed to be the Sixteenth of _May_ last. How do you think 'tis possible to avoid it now; but many things happen betwixt the Cup and the Lip. You are to know that _Orontes_'s Estate lay near a fine Seat of _Cloridon_'s, which he often retir'd to; so that they were acquainted, and much together; and that _Orontes_ went to his Country House to make some Preparations a Week before the designed Marriage.

_Cloridon_ told him he was extreamly pleas'd to see him there; for they had made a match for Hunting five or six days after with some Friends of his, that were wishing for him. I must beg your Pardon my Lord, _says he_, that I cannot stay so long; for I have business that will call me to _London_ sooner. If it be not of great importance, _return'd he_, pray let me prevail with you to stay. 'Tis not to be deferr'd my Lord, I am to be Marry'd. Marry'd, cry'd my Lord, prithee what Madness possesses thee, so lately freed, to bind thy self again without any necessity for it? What Bait next, not another old Rich crabbed Widow, I hope? I have made a better Choice now, _answer'd Orontes_: She has Youth and Goodness I'm sure; and I have Money enough for us both. You are in the Right, _Reply'd Cloridon_; but may I know her Name. You knew her Father my Lord, _says he_, and then Sir _Martin Marrall_ told him whose Daughter I was. And are you engag'd to her, _Cloridon_ ask'd? She has promis'd to marry me the 16th of this Month, _said Orontes_, and therefore my Lord, I hope you wont take it ill if I leave you upon so weighty an Affair.

_Cloridon_ was not in humour of making many Compliments; but he ask'd abundance of Questions, of the beginning and progress of his Love, and how I had us'd him all the time; but he could not much boast of my Favour, which pleas'd _Cloridon_, and encourag'd him to endeavour to break off the Match. He told _Orontes_ he should be oblig'd to go to _London_ that day, but he would come back again before he went away; so he left him, and immediately took his Journey; and as soon as he arriv'd, came to our Lodgings, where he found my Mother and I together.

Judge of my surprize at this Sight, my first Thoughts were of _Orontes_; I sigh'd when I compar'd 'em with one another, and had a thousand different thoughts which I know not what to make of. _Cloridon_ Addressing himself to my Mother, _said_, Madam, I am come to beg a Favour of you, which I should hardly have the Confidence to ask, if the whole satisfaction of my life did not depend upon it. My Mother told him, that she could not refuse any thing to one whom she ow'd so much to; and that she should think her self happy if she could serve him in a thing which he said concern'd him so nearly. He return'd some Compliments, and then desir'd her to hear him out with Patience, which she promis'd, and he begun, I have a long time had a great Love and Respect for your Daughter, and would have given all the World to have seen her sometimes; but she refus'd it me; and I bore her Rigour without Murmuring, in hopes the time would come when I could tell her I lov'd her without offending her Virtue: But I can't live when I have lost that hope, and therefore am come to beg you not to marry _Olinda_, as I am told you design; and I will make her Fortune greater than what she can expect from _Orontes_. How, my Lord, _interrupted my Mother_, what strange Proposition is this you make me? Be not angry with me, or fear me, _continu'd he_, for the moment you grant what I intreat of you, I will leave you, and never desire to see _Olinda_ again, as long as I continue in the Condition I am in; But 'twill be a great Happiness for me to think, that she may one Day be mine; and to be a.s.sur'd she will never be any others; and if she be not chang'd, or that I am not much mistaken in her, she will not be averse to it. He was in the right, for though I was never an Enemy to Marriage, yet I always preferr'd a single Life to it; and I found enough of my stifled Flame revive to make my Wishes comply with his. When my Mother saw me much inclin'd to it, and knowing I had only consented to marry _Orontes_ in compliance of her; she began to think of it as a thing might be done, but that she had given her Word to _Orontes_, and could not go back from it. But _Cloridon_ told her, she need not be in any Fault in that, if she wou'd but make use of the occasion would be given her to break off with _Orontes_ without Examining further. She made some other Objections, but he Answer'd them all, and upon his Knees Swore, that if I Married _Orontes_, neither he nor my Husband would survive it: So partly out of fear of what might happen, and partly out of inclination to oblige him, and willingness to please me, my Mother consented. _Cloridon_ begg'd leave to talk with me, before he took his last leave, which he did, and made me some little tender Reproaches, for having resolv'd to Marry; which I answer'd with a more reserv'd Kindness than I had sometimes done; and that was the Subject of many Letters he sent me since; for he often writes to me. Two Days before we were to be Marry'd, _Orontes_ was to come to Town, which _Cloridon_ knew, and had provided half a dozen Soldiers to seize upon him in the King's Name, (for he was suspected for an Enemy to the Government.) They did so, and told him they were commanded to keep him a close Prisoner in a House hard by, till further Order. He would fain have Writ, but they would not let him, for they said they had Orders to the contrary. There they kept him a Week, and we wonder'd we heard nothing of him, not knowing what methods were us'd to hinder us; and to avoid seeing our Friends, who would enquire the Reason, we thought it best to retire hither, this being a private Place.

When _Cloridon_ knew I was out of Town, he went himself to free him, and told him things had been misrepresented, and he had been wrong'd; but in requital he would procure him any Employment he would name; but he did not accept it. When he came to enquire for me, no Body could tell him where I was: But a Friend with whom I had left such Orders, told him, that I had taken it so ill, that he should slight me so far, as neither to come, nor to send to me, in so long time, that whatever he could say for himself, I wou'd never forgive him, nor so much as hear him. He was no doubt troubled at it, but he was not a Man to take any thing much to Heart; and _Cloridon_ knowing he had not dealt very fairly by him, was very desirous to oblige him some other way: And indeed he did him a very considerable Service not long after, for he was really accus'd privately to the King of a Plot, which wou'd have cost him his Life, if _Cloridon_ had not taken a great deal of pains to free him, more than he could have expected in such a ticklish Affair as that; and had like to become himself suspected by it: So that I think he has been more his Friend in saving his Life, than he was his Enemy in taking his Mistress from him.

This is, _Cleander_, the true Cause of my Retirement, which is very agreeable to me, whilst I hear often from you, and whilst _Cloridon_ continues to think of me. I have sent you a Copy of Verses which he writ to me just after I came hither.

_Nor cou'd my Rival, when those Charms By thee were destin'd to his Arms, Be half so bless'd as I, to find The lovely Nun for me Confin'd: Nor when of all that Bliss bereav'd, He saw his full-blown hopes deceiv'd, Cou'd be so curst as I to see My self Exil'd from Heav'n in thee.

Strange Contradiction in my Fate, At once a blest and wretched State: But who--what Lover wou'd not choose Thus to gain all, tho' all he lose?

So Merchants strive their Lives to save, Threaten'd by ev'ry Wind and Wave, And see with joy the long'd for Coast, Tho' all they ventur'd for is lost._

_Cloridon_ has just sent me word that _Orontes_ is dead of the Small-Pox; so that I shall come to Town sooner than I design'd. The expectation of seeing you pleases me extreamly; for tho' I find a great satisfaction in conversing with you by Letters; yet 'tis not so full and perfect at this distance, as when I am with you. I can't tell you my Thoughts so well, nor know yours; a Question suddenly started, or sometimes a Look, will discover more to me than you know of your self; and I would know you not as you seem to the World, or what you think of your self, but what you are; for though you are more sincere than other Men, yet there is no Man but deceives the World in some things, and himself in more; and therefore to be a good Man, 'tis absolutely necessary to have a true Friend; and since you have made choice of me, I can only attone for my want of other Qualifications, by my Fidelity, which you may always rely upon. Will not the World, when they see so tender, so constant an Affection betwixt us, be convinced of that receiv'd Error, that there can be no such intimacy betwixt two of different s.e.xes without the Pa.s.sion of Love; In us I'm sure they can't suspect it; when they see you have so much Love for _Ambrisia_, and me so forward to promote its being reciprocal. I wish it may have that Effect, that the Women may no longer scruple to bestow their Friendship upon a Worthy Man, for fear of misconstructions; both s.e.xes will find their Advantages by it. Yours is more capable to instruct and form our Minds; than the wisest of our own; and ours will be more apt to curb that Licentiousness, which Men usually encourage one another in: And what happiness will it be for us to see our selves the Instruments of all the Men's becoming Good, and all the Women Wise? (A more extraordinary Reformation than _Luther_'s.) Let our Friendships then be so Exemplary, that all may emulate, and wish to live like us; and by endeavouring, find that there's a purer and more solid Satisfaction one moment with a Friend, than Ages thrown away upon the Gallantries, which so take up the Hearts, and steal the Hours of our Youth. Adieu _Cleander_, correct the Errors of my Life with a gentle Hand of Friendship, and always be as much my Friend as I am yours,

_OLINDA_.

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LETTER VIII.

Olinda _to_ Cloridon.

_In Answer to a Letter which he sent her with the Copy of Verses in the sixth of the foregoing ones._

'TIS not an Hour ago since I believ'd I hated you: I thought I could have rail'd at you, have call'd you base, seducer of my Honour, Traytor, that under a pretence of Love, design'd my Ruin; but Ah! those tender Excuses which you sent me, soon discover'd the mistake, and show'd me it was only Angry Love, that so Transported me: And now 'tis turn'd to as violent a Grief, which wou'd fain ease it self in Complaints: But I am so wretched, that even that poor Comfort is deny'd me; for who can I complain to, when in lamenting my Misfortune I must expose our Crime: For yours my Lord, has involv'd me in the guilt; and all those thoughts and Actions, which were innocent before, must be condemn'd as the Causes of such ill Effects: For if I had never lov'd you, or if I had never own'd it, nor consented to see you, you had not desir'd any thing of me that could shock my Virtue: Now, I can't think of 'em without Shame and Anger. That Love which shin'd before so Pure and Bright, appears now the Blackest thing in Nature; and I hate my self for not hating you; for I own (tho' I blush in owning) that I love you still; Nay, I believe that I forgive you too; but I must never, never see you more: No, though you swear you Repent, and that you would not repeat your Crime, if you were certain of success. Would not you believe I should as easily Pardon your breach of this Vow, as I did the last, which you made me as solemnly?

Yes, you would, my Lord, and I should be betray'd to things I never thought of yet: For all is solid, convincing Reason that you speak; and I should soon believe any thing you would have me. Curse on that fond Credulity that first deceiv'd me into a belief, that 'twas no Sin to love you. Yet sure it could not be an unpardonable Fault, to value one that so infinitely deserves it: To Love, to See, and Talk with one whose Conversation is so Charming as yours; and that was all I wish'd. All that know you do the same; Why then am I more guilty? Ah! If your Fame had been as pure as mine, we had both been Happy and Innocent; so innocent, that she, that happy she, who claims all your love as her due, (even she, I think, if she had known our Hearts) could not have been offended at it: But who is there, the most uninterested, that would not now condemn us; Nay, the most Partial could not excuse us; even we should blame our selves. Why will you then importune me still to see you; ask me no more, what I dare never grant; and believe----but you know, 'tis not unkindness makes me Refuse you: You know I must be Wretched in your Absence; yet think me easie and satisfied, if it will contribute any thing to your quiet; or rather don't think of me at all.

Let us make our selves as happy as we can; I will endeavour to forget you; don't Write to me, if you love me well enough to forbear it: And if you can cease to love me, without hating me; for I don't find I have force enough to bear so great a misfortune, which is the only one can add to the weight of those which have already almost sunk

_The Poor_

OLINDA.

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THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

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1948-1949

16. Henry Nevil Payne, _The Fatal Jealousie_ (1673).

18. Anonymous, "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719), and Aaron Hill, Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).

1949-1950

19. Susanna Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709).

20. Lewis Theobald, _Preface to the Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).

22. Samuel Johnson, _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and two _Rambler_ papers (1750).

23. John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).

1951-1952

31. Thomas Gray, _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard_ (1751), and _The Eton College Ma.n.u.script_.

1952-1953

41. Bernard Mandeville, _A Letter to Dion_ (1732).

1963-1964

104. Thomas D'Urfey, _Wonders in the Sun; or, The Kingdom of the Birds_ (1706).

1964-1965

110. John Tutchin, _Selected Poems_ (1685-1700).

111. Anonymous, _Political Justice_ (1736).