The Magdalen, or, The History of a Reform'd Prostitute/Chapter 2
LETTER SECOND.
The Real History of a MAGDALEN.
Man, the lawless libertine may rove
Free and unquestion'd, thro' the wilds of love:
While woman, sense and nature's easy fool,
If poor weak woman swerve from virtue's rule,
Ruin ensues, reproach and endless shame;
And one false step entirly damns her fame.
In vain with tears the loss she may deplore;
In vain look back to what she was before;
She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more.
SIR,
I AM much obliged to you for giving my poor performance a place in your paper; and upon that encouragement, I take the liberty once more to trouble you. I have a plain and artless tale to deliver; and I deliver it only to shew, that pity and relief may not improperly be extended to unhappy objects like myself. Parents too, perhaps, may learn some instruction from my story.
I am the daughter of a tradesman in this city: my father, though engaged in a reputable and advantageous business, had yet no right to the privileges of a gentleman; but my mother desirous to assume those privileges, from her marriage determined to live and act as a gentlewoman. With this view the always followed the fashion: her dress was ever in the mode; and her dining room was furnished in taste; the chimney piece had no small share of Bow-china ware; the curtains were made after the most elegant manner; and the whole floor was covered with Wilton carpet.
You may be satisfied from this disposition of my mother's, that she was careful, whatever else she might forget, to instruct her children in politeness. Indeed, Sir, ever from the time that I can remember ought, I remember nothing so diligently inculcated upon me as lessons of my own importance, gentility and beauty, and the necessity of setting off my person to the best advantage. Imagine not, that I mean to dishonour my mother by repeating these things, which may appear trifling, but were in reality the inlets to my ruin: I reverence the memory of my parent; but by mentioning her mistakes, perhaps I may happily warn others.
At the age of fifteen I lost my mother, who left my father a widower, with myself, a sister, and two brothers; and, as I was the eldest, and my father was very fond of me, the chief conduct of domestic affairs fell upon me. But Oh! Sir, how ill capacitated was I for this, who had been initiated into all the fashionable diversions and amusements for which I had contracted an insuperable fondness; as they led me to display those personal graces, which alone I was taught to cultivate; and which, alas! I valued but too highly. My mother's death tended to advance me more early into a state of womanish behaviour; and my father gratified too blindly my wild inclinations. As I had heard only general and random lessons of virtue, and very few or occasional instructions in religion, it is not to be supposed, that mere female honour could give me great strength to withstand temptations. But indeed, I thought little of temptations: as I scarcely knew what was vice, so it gained little of my reflection: my chief with was to be admired; and my grand aim and pursuit, to get a very fine and wealthy husband. Chariots, country houses, routs, dress, and gaiety occupied my waking and sleeping thoughts.
Thus a year and more ran on: during which time I wanted not admirers; for I must be allowed to say, my person was pleasing and attractive. Amongst these the son of an opulent merchant in our neighbourhood attended me most assiduously; and his endearing behaviour soon won my unsuspecting heart. My father encouraged his visits; which yet he himself desired might be as secret as possible: 'For his father, he informed us, would be greatly offended, if acquainted with his attachments to me, the only thing, he daily protested, which prevented his marrying me.' I heard his oaths, I listened and believed. But how distant was I from suspecting any dishonourable intentions, since, in all the fervour of passion, he would curse his fate, and the vile folly of mankind in suffering priests to obstruct their bless by a foolish ceremony, devised solely for their profit; since, in the sight of God, (if there was a God who took notice of such things) an union of hearts, and mutual oaths and vows, must doubtless constitute a marriage. Much of this I often heard; and love blinded my eyes to its intent.
In the mean time a sudden shock overwhelmed our family in the deepest distress: my father became a bankrupt; and the miseries impending over his children so affected him, that he turned perfectly melancholy. This accident was Mr. **'s triumph: his friendship and tenderness for me on this occasion was such, that I fear it would have prevailed over a heart better fortified. Wonder not, Sir, that it prevailed over me, whose heart was melting with the softest love to him! Cruel deceiver, he persuaded me to leave that distressful scene, and to take possession of a lodging, which he had provided, he told me, till better times would allow him publickly, to acknowledge me as his wife. My father's brother took the management, of his affairs, and the kind protection of my brothers and sister; while I, only I, was lost to them; drowned in a state of insensibility, though not without the tenderest regard to my dear relations; whom I endeavoured to persuade, that I was married to Mr. **; but they were too wise: they could not be deceived; and foretelling me my fate with severity enough, utterly cast me off.
Possessed of Mr. **'s affection, I felt, I conceived no loss or hurt from any other's neglect. And my heart can bear me witness, that I never knew a thought, or indulged a wish from him. Seven months be continued all I could hope: and I began to believe that every thing, (though little enough) which I had heard of formal virtue, was a name; and that outward ceremonies, and the like, tended only to the infelicity of the married state. But soon, too soon, was I awakened from this golden dream. Mr. ** grew thoughtful in my company, began to make his visits less frequent and more short; urging great business in the compting house, the preparation of ships, and I know not what: it gave me pain, but I suspected nothing. One day, however, when I was at the window waiting for him as usual, with fond impatience, a messenger came with a letter: but what words can express my anguish upon reading it! It was to inform me that his father had found out his connection with me, and had provided a match for him with a lady of very great fortune; and since it was impossible for him to refuse, as he must thereby forfeit all his father's regard, he hoped I would make myself easy: especially, as he would take care of the child I should bring into the world, (for I was then with child by him) and would procure me a good place after my delivery; to support me till which time, he sent me a bill of thirty pounds.
My torture and distress were beyond all description, I will not therefore attempt it; a miscarriage ensued, & a dangerous illness, in which I had good hope that I should have finished a burdensome life: though the dread I had of something future deterred me from any thing violent, to which my distresses frequently prompted me. For tho' I wrote and entreated but for one interview, would you believe that I entreated always in vain? This hard-hearted man, this most unkind and cruel source of all my sorrow, would scarcely deign me a reply! My relations were equally obdurate: I desired but to see my sister; my aunt and uncle sent me only in return to my request, sharp upbraidings and savage counsels! Gracious heaven, what a situation was mine! How early did I begin to drink of the bitter cup of penance for my unlawful pleasures & criminal indulgencies!
My youth supported me under this heavy load; the heaviest part of which was my soli⟨tude⟩, and the want of some female friend to ⟨console⟩ me, and to amuse my gloomy ⟨thoughts⟩. My nurse, to whom I had ⟨frequently⟩ made my complaint, and from whom ⟨I⟩ had concealed no part of my afflictions, at my repeated request, was so kind (I ⟨conceived⟩ it kind) to introduce to me a lady of the ⟨neighbourhood⟩, as she told me; whose ⟨frank⟩ and generous converse soon engaged my foolish heart; and I thought myself happy in the friendship of Mrs. Marriot. Mrs. Marriot took me to her country house; several ladies were recommended by her to my acquaintance. Two or three gentlemen paid us short visits; and after a day or two's stay there, we returned to town ⟨together⟩; but, as it happened to be ⟨late⟩, the pressed me much to take a bed at her house. I complied, and laid me down to sleep under her care & custody, dreaming of nothing ill. When l was awakened in the night by the admission of a person into my room and bed; whom I found it in vain to resist, as he informed me truly where I was, what I must expect, and how unreasonable and unavailing any refractory conduct would prove. The terror of the scene deprived me of my senses, and I have no recollection of myself, but as surrounded the following day by Mrs. Marriot, and several of her house, using their endeavours to support my life, of which they seemed almost to despair.
It would be superfluous, Sir, to tell you the horrid situation I was now in, since this is an evil but too commonly known: I was again a ruined wretch; and besides this a beggared prisoner, destined to every misery that human nature is capable of. My very soul abhored my manner of living; but alas, I knew not, I could not apprehend any method of redress! Some months I was compelled to the drudgery of this detestable life; and as ours was a much frequented house, mine was the more deplorable a fate: With some difficulty I again found means to apply to my uncle and my sister, but they were as obdurate as the flint. Good God, that neither wretchedness, relationship, prayers, nor intreaties should avail! If thou wast as severe as our fellow creatures, what must become of sinful mortals!
But that I may not be tedious: at length, Sir, myself and the rest of our unhappy sisterhood, were delivered from our prison, and dispersed by the disgrace of our mistress, who for some misdemeanor fell into the hands of justice. But alas! I was then as much to seek as ever. Sally***, with whom I had contracted a friendship, advised me to go with her to some public office, and there to enquire for a place: but at these offices we were again and again rejected, unable, as we were, to refer any where for a character: and too plainly as our improper dress discovered our manner of life. We had no money: we had no friends: we wept together, but we could find no possibility of deliverance from a pursuit of our former life, in order to obtain sustenance. I am sure, and can say it with the most solemn truth, any employment would have been blessed, in comparison of this. For let the humane only judge of a timorous young girl entering the streets with a guilty mind, and a shameful purpose; darkness and distress around her; and under the dire necessity of submitting to the brutality of lust with any wretch who is inclined to use her. I was shocked with horror. Exquisite and pressing hunger, I truly declare, alone compelled me. Sally and myself took a little apartment, and there breathed a miserable existence.
Some weeks after which, as I was crossing the Strand, a young man met me, and using my name, I looked at him attentively: but what was my surprize and my pleasure to find it my elder brother, who was grown much since I saw him, and was now near sixteen years old! I was ready to faint at the sight of him! For there had always been a particular love between us. I perceived the tears gush down the cheeks of the dear youth, and you may easily conceive I could not refrain mine. He beckoned me to follow, and when we came to a private avenue in the street, he took my hand, and, 'Oh! my dearest sister, said he, how happy am I, that at last I have found you! my uncle and my friends have continually represented you to me as lost, and I have been unable to learn more, than that you are become a vile & abandoned woman of the town!' Oh brother, I replied, they have indeed been cruel, though I am worthless but had they been more kind, they might have saved me from any present distress. You must have heard how often I have wrote to them, & to you; why was it that you would never give me one word of an answer? 'I never received a line from you, replied he, and whenever I enquired concerning you, my uncle bad me be silent, and never ask after the scandal of the family, using other vile names, which I shall not repeat. But, for God's sake, tell me, are you that unhappy woman? I tremble to think it.'— You may be assured I could give no answer. To hear this from a brother, and so young, and whom I tenderly loved, and whose sight renewed the remembrance of all my past offences, the remembrance of my dearest friends, and shewed me myself in the utmost degree of horror; to hear this, shocked me beyond expression; and his tears and affectionate anxiety added poignancy to every reflection. 'Oh! sister, said he, this is too much to be supported: but heaven has made me happy, that I may be the blessed means, I hope, of administering relief to you. If you have any proper place to go to, let me attend you, and tell you what I have to offer.' We went to my ⟨little⟩ lodging immediately. And can I, Oh! can I ever enough express my joy, when ⟨this⟩ good young man, now dearer to me than ⟨life⟩, informed me of the Magdalen-House: whereof he told me his excellent master was a governor, and to the chapel of which he had one Sunday introduced him.
There needed not much recommendation; for how could I be unwilling to abandon a ⟨life⟩ which was big with misery and sorrow?
But had I not been so, his description of this blessed House would have certainly led me to it. I told him, I hoped he would recommend me to his master, not naming my relationship to himself. But this he said was impossible; since no favour was shewn in admission. The most proper objects, the truest penitents, and the most afflicted, being always preferred by the governors. If so, said I, there is no doubt but I shall obtain their favourable regard. I thought the hours long, till Thursday arrived, the day of admission: upon which I repaired to the Magdalen; petitioned; prevailed; and was blest!
Thus, Sir, I owe, under God, my present happiness to my brother, which endears it still more; during my stay in the House, I was frequently blest with his company, which is always instructive; and he has constantly supplied me with some religious treatise or other, which I read with a double pleasure as coming from him. I have hopes too of regaining the regard of my other friends, and have already seen my sister. My poor father, to my exquisite sorrow, died soon after my departure. This is at present the greatest burden to my mind.
Such is my story; which I have delivered in the plainest manner. I want not to exculpate myself: That I am criminal, very criminal; that I have done amiss, very much amiss, I am ready to acknowledge; I do acknowledge in the sight of God and man. But oh! dear Sir, let the most rigidly virtuous consider a poor uninstructed young girl, without any principles almost but those of vanity, attacked by every thing that can allure, youth, wealth, personal graces, solemn vows, and the most awful protestations and promises of marriage from a faithless heart, her own, sick with love; and let pardon at least be granted for one fault. For the rest, treachery, perfidy, cruelty, necessity, will speak. My sufferings have been very severe: and oh! that I had known those dictates of virtue and religion, in which I have been instructed at the Magdalen, and which found a properly humbled mind to receive them! Oh that in early youth I had known them; that my parents had early taught me the ways of piety; for, I am persuaded, I should then never have taken the first false step. I should then have preserved my innocence, and have escaped those sorrows, which, I am sa⟨tisfied⟩, are the never-failing attendants of ⟨justice⟩.
I am, Sir,
Your very humble Servant,
A Grateful Magdalen.
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