THE REPROACH OF LIVING IN ADULTERY.

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upbraid her with it. That in yielding at first, she must be a fool, but to take the man, is to be sure to be called fool; that to resist a man is to act with courage and vigour, and to cast off the reproach, which, in the course of things, drops out of knowledge and dies. The man goes one way and the woman another, as fate and the circumstances of living direct; and if they keep one another's counsel, the folly is heard no more of; but to take the man, says I, is the most preposterous thing in nature, and (saving your presence) is to befoul one's self, and live always in the smell of it. No, no, added I, after a man has lain with me as a mistress, he ought never to lie with me as a wife. That's not only preserving the crime in memory, but it is recording it in the family; it the woman marries the man afterwards, she bears the reproach of it to the last hour; if her husband is not a man of a hundred thousand, he some time or other upbraids her with it; if he has children, they fail not one way or other to hear of it: if the children are virtuous, they do their mother the justice to hate her for it; if they are wicked, they give her the mortification of doing the like, and giving her for the example. On the other hand, if the man and the woman part, there is an end of the crime, and an end of the clamour; time wears out the memory of it, or a woman may remove but a few streets, and she soon outlives it, and hears no more of it.

it

He was confounded at this discourse, and told me he could not say but I was right in the main. That as to that part relating to managing estates, it was arguing à la cavalier, it was in some sense right, if the women were able to carry on so, but that in general the sex were not capable of it; their heads were not turned for it, and they had better choose a person capable and honest, that knew how to do them justice, as women, as well as to love them; and that then the trouble was all taken off of their hands.

I told him it was a dear way of purchasing their ease, for very often when the trouble was taken off of their hands, so was their money too; and that I thought it was far safer for the sex not to be afraid of the trouble, but to be really afraid of their money; that if nobody was trusted, nobody would be deceived; and the staff in their own hands was the best security in the world.

He replied, that I had started a new thing in the world;

that however I might support it by subtle reasoning, yet it was a way of arguing that was contrary to the general practise, and that he confessed he was much disappointed in it that had he known I would have made such a use of it, he would never have attempted what he did, which he had no wicked design in, resolving to make me reparation, and that he was very sorry he had been so unhappy; that he was very sure he should never upbraid me with it hereafter, and had so good an opinion of me as to believe I did not suspect him; but seeing I was positive in refusing him, notwithstanding what had passed, he had nothing to do but secure me from reproach, by going back again to Paris, that so, according to my own way of arguing, it might die out of memory, and I might never meet with it again to my disadvantage.

I was not pleased with this part at all, for I had no mind to let him go neither; and yet I had no mind to give him such hold of me as he would have had; and thus I was in a kind of suspense, irresolute, and doubtful what course to take.

I was in the house with him, as I have observed, and I saw evidently that he was preparing to go back to Paris; and particularly, I found he was remitting money to Paris, which was, as I understood afterwards, to pay for some wines, which he had given order to have bought for him at Troyes in Champagne: and I knew not what course to take; and besides that I was very loath to part with him, I found also that I was with child by him, which was what I had not yet told him of; and sometimes I thought not to tell him of it at all; but I was in a strange place, and had no acquaintance, though I had a great deal of substance, which indeed, having no friends there, was the more dangerous to me.

This obliged me to take him one morning, when I saw him, as I thought, a little anxious about his going, and irresolute; says I to him, I fancy you can hardly find in your heart to leave me now. The more unkind is it in you, said he, severely unkind, to refuse a man that knows not how to part with you.

I am so far from being unkind to you, said I, that I will go over all the world with you if you desired me, except to Paris, where you know I can't go.

It is pity so much love, said he, on both sides, should ever separate.

WILLING TO BE HIS MISTRESS BUT NOT HIS WIFE

Why then, said I, do you go away from me?
Because, said he, you won't take me.

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But if I won't take you, said I, you may take me anywhere but to Paris.

He was very loath to go anywhere, he said, without me; but he must go to Paris or to the East Indies.

I told him I did not use to court, but I durst venture myself to the East Indies with him, if there was a necessity of his going.

He told me, God be thanked, he was in no necessity of going anywhere, but that he had a tempting invitation to go to the Indies.

I answered, I would say nothing to that: but that I desired he would go anywhere but to Paris, because there he knew I must not go.

He said he had no remedy but to go where I could not go; for he could not bear to see me, if he must not have me.

I told him that was the unkindest thing he could say of me, and that I ought to take it very ill, seeing I knew how very well to oblige him to stay, without yielding to what he knew I could not yield to.

This amazed him, and he told me I was pleased to be mysterious; but that he was sure it was in nobody's power to hinder him going, if he resolved upon it, except me, who had influence enough upon him to make him do anything.

Yes, I told him I could hinder him, because I knew he could no more do an unkind thing by me than he could do an unjust one; and to put him out of his pain, I told him I was with child.

He came to me, and taking me in his arms, and kissing me a thousand times almost, said, Why would I be so unkind not to tell him that before.

I told him 'twas hard, that to have him stay, I should be forced to do as criminals do to avoid the gallows, plead my belly; and that I thought I had given him testimonies enough of an affection equal to that of a wife, if I had not only lain with him, been with child by him, shown myself unwilling to part with him, but offered to go to the East Indies with him; and except one thing that I could not grant, what could he ask more.

He stood mute a good while, but afterwards told me, he had a great deal more to say, if I could assure him that I

would not take ill whatever freedom he might use with me in his discourse.

I told him he might use any freedom in words with me; for a woman who had given leave to such other freedoms, as I had done, had left herself no room to take anything ill, let it be what it would.

Why then, he said, I hope you believe, madam, I was born a Christian, and that I have some sense of sacred things upon my mind. When I first broke in upon my own virtue and assaulted yours; when I surprised, and, as it were, forced you to that which neither you intended or I designed but a few hours before; it was upon a presumption that you would certainly marry me, if once I could go that length with you and it was with an honest resolution to make you my wife.

But I have been surprised with such a denial that no woman in such circumstances ever gave to a man; for certainly it was never known that any woman refused to marry a man that had first lain with her, much less a man that had gotten her with child; but you go upon different notions from all the world, and though you reason upon it so strongly that a man knows hardly what to answer, yet I must own there is something in it shocking to nature, and something very unkind to yourself; but above all, it is unkind to the child that is yet unborn, who, if we marry will come into the world with advantage enough, but if not, is ruined before it is born; must bear the eternal reproach of what it is not guilty of; must be branded from its cradle with a mark of infamy; be loaded with the crimes and follies of its parents, and suffer for sins that it never committed. This I take to be very hard, and, indeed, cruel to the poor infant not yet born, who you cannot think of with any patience, if you have the common affection of a mother, and not do that for it which should at once place it on a level with the rest of the world, and not leave it to curse its parents for what also we ought to be ashamed of. I cannot, therefore, says he, but beg and entreat you, as you are a Christian and a mother, not to let the innocent lamb you go with be ruined before it is born, and leave it to curse and reproach us hereafter, for what may be so easily avoided.

Then, dear madam, said he, with a world of tenderness (and I thought I saw tears in his eyes), allow me to repeat it, that I am a Christian, and consequently I do not allow

REFUSES MY OFFER FOR CONSCIENCE SAKE.

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what I have rashly, and without due consideration, done; I say, I do not approve of it as lawful, and therefore, though I did, with the view I have mentioned, one unjustifiable action, I cannot say that I could satisfy myself to live in a continual practice of what in judgment we must both condemn; and though I love you above all the women in the world, and have done enough to convince you of it, by resolving to marry you after what has passed between us, and by offering to quit all pretensions to any part of your estate, so that I should, as it were, take a wife after I had lain with her, and without a farthing portion, which as my circumstances are, I need not do; I say, notwithstanding my affection to you, which is inexpressible, yet I cannot give up soul as well as body, the interest of this world, and the hopes of another; and you cannot call this my disrespect to you.

If ever any man in the world was truly valuable for the strictest honesty of intention, this was the man; and if ever woman in her senses rejected a man of merit on so trivial and frivolous a pretence, I was the woman: but surely it was the most preposterous thing that ever woman did.

He would have taken me as a wife, but would not entertain me as a whore. Was ever woman angry with any gentleman on that head? And was ever woman so stupid to choose to be a whore, where she might have been an honest wife? but infatuations are next to being possessed of the devil. I was inflexible, and pretended to argue upon the point of a woman's liberty as before, but he took me short, and with more warmth than he had yet used with me, though with the utmost respect, replied, Dear madam, you argue for liberty, at the same time that you restrain yourself from that liberty which God and nature has directed you to take; and to supply the deficiency, propose a vicious liberty, which is neither honourable, or religious. Will you propose liberty at the expense of modesty?

I returned, that he mistook me: I did not propose it; I only said that those that could not be content without concerning the sexes in that affair, might do so indeed; might entertain a man as men do a mistress, if they thought fit, but he did not hear me say I would do so; and though, by what had passed, he might well censure me in that part, yet he should find, for the future, that I should freely converse with him without any inclination that way.