The Works of Aphra Behn

The Table was no sooner clear’d, and a loyal Health or two gone round, e’re Sir Christian ask’d his young amorous Guest to take a Walk with him in the Gardens: To which Sir Lucius readily consented, designing to disclose that to him for a Secret, which was but too apparent to all that were present at Table: When therefore he thought he had sufficiently admir’d and commended the Neatness of the Walks and Beauty of the Flowers, he began, to this Effect:

Possibly, Sir Christian, I shall surprize you with the Discourse I’m going to make you; but ’tis certain no Man can avoid the Necessity of the Fate which he lies under; at least I have now found it so. – I came at first, Sir, with the Hopes of prevailing on you to honour and make me happy in a Marriage with Madam Eleanora your Daughter; but at the same Instant I was seiz’d with so irresistable a Passion for the charming Peregrina, that I find no Empire, Fame, nor Wit, can make me perfectly bless’d here below, without the Enjoyment of that beautiful Creature. Do not mistake me, Sir, (I beseech you, continu’d he) I mean an honourable Enjoyment. – I will make her my Wife, Sir, if you will be generously pleas’d to use your Interest with her on my Part.

To which the good old Knight reply’d, What you think (Sir) you have now imparted as a Secret, has been the general Observation of all my Family, e’re since you gave us the Happiness of your Company to Day: Your Passion is too great to be disguis’d; and I am extremely pleas’d, that you can think any Thing in my House worthy the Honour you intend Peregrina. Indeed, had you made any particular and publick Address to my Daughter, I should have believ’d it want of Merit in her, or in us, her Parents, that you should, after that, quit your Pretensions to her, without any willing or known Offence committed on our Side. I therefore (Sir) approve your Choice, and promise you my utmost Assistance afar. She is really virtuous in all the Latitude of Virtue; her Beauty is too visible to be disputed ev’n by Envy it self: As for her Birth, she best can inform you of it; I must only let you know, that, as her Name imports, she was utterly a Stranger, and entertain’d by us in pure Charity. But the Antiquity and Honour of your Family can receive no Diminution by a Match with a beautiful and virtuous Creature, for whom, you say, and I believe, you have so true a Passion. I have now told you the worst (Sir) that I know of her; but your Wealth and Love may make you both eternally happy on Earth. And so they shall, by her dear self, (return’d the amorous Knight) if both of ’em may recommend me to her, with your Perswasions added, which still I beg. Say, rather you command; and with those three hundred Pounds which I promis’d her, if she marry’d with my Consent to Mr. Prayfast.

To this, the other smiling, reply’d, Her Person and Love is all I court or expect, Sir: But since you have thought her worthy of so great an Expression of your Favour and Kindness, I will receive it with all Humility as is from a Father, which I shall ever esteem you. – But see, Sir, (cry’d he in an Extasy) how she comes, led by Madam Eleanora, your Daughter. The young Lady coming to him, began thus: I know (Sir) ’tis my Father and Mother’s Desire and Ambition to shew you the heartiest Welcome in their Power, which can by no Means be made appear so particularly and undisputably, as by presenting you with what you like best in the Family: In Assurance therefore that I shall merit their Favour by this Act, I have brought your dear Peregrina to you, not without Advice, and some Instructions of mine, that may concern her Happiness with you, if discreetly observ’d and persu’d by her. In short, (Sir) I have told her, that a Gentleman of so good a Figure, such excellent Parts, and generous Education, of so ancient and honourable a Family, together with so plentiful an Estate as you at present possess, is capable of bringing Happiness to any, the fairest Lady in this Country at least. O Madam! (return’d Sir Lucius) your Obligation is so great, that I want Sense to receive it as I ought; much more Words to return you any proportionable Acknowledgment of it. But give me Leave to say thus much, Madam; that my Thoughts of making my Court to your Ladiship, first invited me to give Sir Christian, your Father, the Trouble of a Visit, since the Death of mine. However, the over-ruling Powers have thought to divert my Purpose, and the offering of my Heart, which can never rest, but with this dear charming Creature. – Your Merits, Madam – are sufficient for the Gentleman on whom I entirely fix’d my Affections, before you did me the Honour and your self the Trouble of your first Visit (interrupted Sir Christian’s Daughter.) And now, Sir, (added she to her Father) if you please, let us leave ’em to make an End of this Business between themselves. No, Madam, (cry’d Sir Lucius) your Father has promis’d me to make Use of his Interest with her for my Sake. This I now expect, Sir. Then (said the old Knight) thou dear beautiful and virtuous Stranger! if I have any Power to perswade thee, take my Advice, and this honourable Gentleman to thy loving Husband; I’m sure he’ll prove so to thee. If I could command thee I would. Ah Sir! (said she, kneeling, with Tears falling from her charming Eyes) I know none living that has greater Right and Power. – But (alas Sir!) this honourable Person knows not the Meanness of my Birth, at least, he cannot think it any Way proportionable or suitable to his. O thou dear Creature, (cry’d her Lover, setting one Knee to the Ground, and taking her up) Sir Christian has already discours’d all thy Circumstances to me: Rise and bless me with thy Consent. I must ask my Lady’s, Sir, (she reply’d.) See, here my Mother comes (said the young Lady) and entreated her good Word for Sir Lucius. The good ancient Lady began then to use all the Arguments to incline her to yield to her Happiness; and, in fine, she was prevail’d on to say, I do consent, and will endeavour to deserve the honourable Title of your dutiful Wife, Sir. ’Twas with no common Joy and Transport that he receiv’d her Hand, and kiss’d those dear Lips that gave him an Assurance of his Happiness; which he resolv’d should begin about a Month or two afterwards; in which Time he might send Orders to London for the making their Wedding Cloaths. Into the House then they all went, Sir Lucius leading Peregrina, and the first they met of the Family was Prayfast, who was not a little surpriz’d nor discompos’d at that Sight; and more especially when Sir Christian told him, That tho’ he did not think that beautiful sweet Stranger worthy the Title of his Wife, yet now he should be oblig’d to join her to that honourable Person. The Slave bow’d, and look’d very pale.

All Things were at last got ready for the Consummation of their Bliss, and Prayfast did their Business effectually, tho’ much against his Will; however he receiv’d the Reward of twenty Broad Pieces. The Wedding was kept for a Week at Sir Christian’s House; after which they adjourn’d to the Bridegroom’s, where it lasted as long as Sir Christian, his Lady, Daughter, and the rest of that Family would stay. As they were leaving him, Sir Lucius dispos’d of two hundred Pounds amongst Sir Christian’s Servants, and the rest of the three hundred he distributed among the Poor of both Parishes.

When they were gone, the affectionate tender Bridegroom could by no Means be perswaded by any Gentlemen, his Neighbours, to hunt with ’em, or to take any Divertisement, tho’ but for half a Day; esteeming it the highest Unkindness imaginable to leave his Lady: Not that she could be alone neither in his Absence; for she never wanted the Visits of all the Ladies round about, and those of the best Quality; who were equally charm’d with her Sweetness of Temper, as the Men were with her outward Beauties. But in a Month’s time, or thereabout, observing that he was continually solicited and courted to some Sport or Pastime with those Gentlemen of his Neighbourhood, she was forc’d to do her self the Violence to beg of him that he would divert himself with ’em, as before their Marriage he us’d: And she had so good Success, that he did allow himself two Days in the Week to hunt: In one of which, coming Home about five a Clock, and not finding his Lady below Stairs, he went directly up to her Chamber, where he saw her leaning her Head on her Hand, and her Handkerchief all bath’d in Tears. At this Sight he was strangely amaz’d and concern’d. Madam, (cry’d he in an unusual Tone) what means such Postures as these? Tell me! For I must know the Occasion. Surpriz’d, and trembling at this his unwonted Manner of saluting her, she started up, and then, falling on her Knees, she wept out, O thou dear Author and Lord of all my Joys on Earth! Look not, I beseech you, so wildly, nor speak terribly to me! Thou Center of all my Happiness below, (return’d he) rise, and make me acquainted with the dreadful Occasion of this afflicting and tormenting Sight! All you shall know, (she reply’d) dearest of human Blessings! But sit, and change your Looks; then I can speak. Speak then, my Life, (said he) but tell me all; all I must know. Is there a Thought about my Soul that you shall not partake? I’m sure there is not; (he reply’d) say on then. You know, Sir, (she return’d) that I have left my Parents now three Years, or thereabouts, and know not whether they are living or dead: I was reflecting, therefore, on the Troubles which my undutiful and long Absence may have caus’d them; for poor and mean as they may be, they well instructed me in all good Things; and I would once more, by your dear Permission, see them, and beg their Pardon for my Fault; for they are my Parents still, if living, Sir, though (unhappily) not worth your Regard. How! (cry’d he) can that Pair who gave my Dearest Birth, want my Regard, or ought I can do for them? No! thou shalt see them, and so will I: But tell me, Peregrina, is this the only Cause of your Discomposure? So may I still be bless’d in your dear Love, (she reply’d) as this is Truth, and all the Cause. When shall we see them, then? (he ask’d). We see them, (cry’d she) O! your Goodness descends too much; and you confound me with your unmerited and unexpected Kindness. ’Tis I alone that have offended, and I alone am fit to see them. That must not be; (return’d her affectionate Husband) no, we’ll both go together; and if they want, either provide for them there, or take them hither with us. Your Education shews their Principles, and ’tis no Shame to own virtuous Relations. Come, dry thy dear lamenting Eyes; the Beginning of the next Week we’ll set forwards. Was ever Disobedience so rewarded with such a Husband? (said she) those Tears have wash’d that childish Guilt away; and there is no Reward above thy Virtue.

In a few Days, Monday began the Date of their Journey to the West of England; and in five or six Days more, by the Help of a Coach and Six, they got to Cornwall; where, in a little Town, of little Accommodation, they were oblig’d to take up their Lodgings the first Night. In the Morning (said his Lady to him) My Dear, about a Mile and a half hence lives one Sir Francis Fairname and his Lady, if yet they be living, who have a very fine House, and worth your seeing; I beg of you therefore, that you will be so kind to your self as to walk thither, and dine with the old Gentleman; for that you must, if you see him; whilst I stay here, and send to my Father and Mother, if to be found, and prepare them to receive you at your Return. I must not have no Denial; (added she) for if you refuse this Favour, all my Designs are lost. – Make Haste, my Life; ’tis now eleven a Clock; In your Absence I’ll dress, to try if Change of Cloaths can hide me from them. This was so small a Request, that he did not stay to reply to’t, but presently left her, and got thither in less than half an Hour, attended only by one Footman. He was very kindly and respectfully receiv’d by the old Gentleman, who had certainly been a very beautiful Person in his Youth; and Sir Lucius, fixing his Eyes upon his Face, could hardly remove ’em, being very pleasantly and surprisingly entertain’d with some Lines that he observ’d in it. But immediately recollecting himself, he told him, that having heard how fine a Seat that was, his Curiosity led him to beg the Favour that he might see it. The worthy old Knight return’d, that his House and all the Accommodations in it were at his Service: So inviting him in, he satisfy’d his pretended Curiosity; and after he had shewn all that was worthy the Sight of a Stranger, in the House, he led him into his Gardens, which furnish’d Sir Lucius with new Matter of Admiration; whence the old Knight brought him into the Parlour, telling him, that ’twas his Custom to suffer no Stranger to return, till he had either din’d or supp’d with him, according as the Hour of the Day or Night presented.

’Twas here the affectionate Husband was strangely surpriz’d at the Sight of a Picture, which so nearly counterfeited the Beauties of his dear-lov’d Lady, that he stood like an Image himself, gazing and varying; the Colours of his Face agitating by the Diversity of his Thoughts; which Sir Francis perceiving, ask’d him, What it was that so visibly concern’d him? To which he reply’d, That indeed he was concern’d, but with great Satisfaction and Pleasure, since he had never seen any Thing more beautiful than that Picture, unless it were a Lady for whom he had the most sincere Affection imaginable, and whom it did very nearly represent; and then enquir’d for whom that was drawn? Sir Francis answer’d him, ’Twas design’d for one who was, I dare not say who is, my Daughter; and the other two were drawn for her younger Sisters. And see, Sir, (persu’d he) here they come, following their Mother: At which Words Sir Lucius was oblig’d to divorce his Eyes from the charming Shadow, and make his Compliments to them; which were no sooner over than Dinner was serv’d in, where the young Knight eat as heartily as he could, considering he sate just opposite to it, and in Sight of the two Ladies, who were now exactly like his own Wife, though not so very beautiful.

The Table being uncover’d, Sir Lucius desir’d to know why Sir Francis said, He doubted whether the Original of that Picture were yet his Daughter? To which the Mother return’d (big with Sorrow, which was seen in her Tears) That her Husband had spoken but too rightly: For (added she) ’tis now three Years since we have either seen her or heard from her. How, Madam! three Years, (cry’d Sir Lucius) I believe I can shew your Ladiship a dear Acquaintance of mine, so wonderfully like that Picture, that I am almost perswaded she is the very Original; only (pardon me, Madam) she tells me her Parents are of mean Birth and Fortune. Dear Sir, (cry’d the tender Mother) Is she in this Country? She is not two Miles hence, reply’d Sir Lucius. By all Things most dear to you, Sir, (said the Lady) let us be so happy as to see her, and that with all convenient Expedition! for it will be a Happiness to see any Creature, the only Like my dearest Arabella. Arabella, Madam! alas! No, Madam, her Name is Peregrina. No Matter for Names, Sir, (cry’d the Lady) I want the Sight of the dear Creature. Sir, (added the worthy old Knight) I can assure you it will be an eternal Obligation to us; or, if you please, we will wait on you to her. By no Means, Sir, (return’d Sir Lucius) I will repeat my Trouble to you with her, in an Hour at farthest. We shall desire the Continuance of such Trouble as long as we live, reply’d Sir Francis. So, without farther Ceremony, Sir Lucius left ’em and return’d to his Lady, whom he found ready dress’d, as he wish’d he might. Madam, (said he) where are your Father and Mother? I know not, yet, my Dear, she reply’d. Well, (return’d he) we will expect ’em, or send for ’em hither at Night; in the mean Time I have engag’d to bring you with me to Sir Francis Fairname and his Lady, with all imaginable Expedition. So immediately, as soon as Coach and Six and Equipage was ready, he hurry’d her away with him to Sir Francis, whom they found walking with his Lady and two Daughters in the outward Court, impatiently expecting their Coming. The Boot of the Coach (for that was the Fashion in those Days) was presently let down, and Sir Lucius led his Lady forwards to them; who coming within three or four Paces of the good old Knight, his Lady fell on her Knees, and begg’d their Pardon and Blessing. Her affectionate Father answer’d ’em with Tears from his Eyes; but the good ancient Lady was so overcome with Joy, that she fell into a Swoon, and had like to have been accompany’d by her Daughter, who fell upon her Knees by her, and with her Shrieks recall’d her, when she strait cry’d out, My Daughter, my Daughter’s come again! my Arabella alive! Ay, my dear offended Mother! with all the Duty and Penitence that Humanity is capable of, return’d the Lady Lovewell. Her Sisters then express’d their Love in Tears, Embraces, and Kisses, while her dear Husband begg’d a Blessing of her Parents, who were very pleasantly surpriz’d, to know that their Daughter was so happily marry’d, and to a Gentleman of such an Estate and Quality as Sir Lucius seem’d to be: ’Twas late that Night e’er they went to Bed at Sir Francis’s. The next Day, after they had all pretty well eas’d themselves of their Passions, Sir Francis told his Son-in-Law, that as he had three Daughters, so he had 3000l. a Year, and he would divide it equally among ’em; but for Joy of the Recovery of his eldest Daughter, and her fortunate Match with so worthy a Gentleman as Sir Lucius, who had given him an Account of his Estate and Quality, he promis’d him ten thousand Pounds in ready Money besides; whereas the other young Ladies were to have but five thousand a Piece, besides their Dividend of the Estate. And now, (said he) Daughter, the Cause of your Retreat from us, old Sir Robert Richland, has been dead these three Months, on such a Day. How, Sir, (cry’d she) on such a Day! that was the very Day on which I was so happy as to be marry’d to my dear Sir Lucius.

She then gave her Father, and Mother, and Sisters, a Relation of all that had happen’d to her since her Absence from her dear Parents, who were extremely pleas’d with the Account of Sir Christian and his Lady’s Hospitality and Kindness to her; and in less than a Fortnight after, they took a Journey to Sir Lucius’s, carrying the two other young Ladies along with ’em; and, by the Way, they call’d at Sir Christian’s, where they arriv’d Time enough to be present the next Day at Sir Christian’s Daughter’s Wedding, which they kept there for a whole Fortnight.

FINISNotes: Critical and Explanatory:The Wandering Beauty

p. 451 two Pinners. A pinner is ‘a coif with two long flaps one on each side pinned on and hanging down, and sometimes fastened at the breast.. sometimes applied to the flaps as an adjunct of the coif.’ —N.E.D. cf. Pepys, 18 April, 1664: ‘To Hyde Park.. and my Lady Castlemaine in a coach by herself, in yellow satin and a pinner on.’

THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE; OR,

THE IMPIOUS VOW PUNISH’D

THE UNHAPPY MISTAKE, &c

The Effects of Jealousy have ever been most fatal; and it is certainly one of the most tormenting Passions that an human Soul can be capable of, tho’ it be created by the least Appearances of Reason: The Truth of which this following Story will evince.

Sir Henry Hardyman was a Gentleman of a very large Estate in Somersetshire, of a very generous Temper, hospitable almost to Extravagancy; a plain down-right Dealer, wonderfully good-natur’d, but very passionate: Whose Lady dying, left him only a Son and a Daughter; between whom there were about six Years Difference in their Age. Miles Hardyman (for so the Son was call’d) being the eldest; both of naturally virtuous Inclinations, which were carefully improv’d by a generous and pious Education. Miles was a very tall, large, and well-proportion’d Person at Two and Twenty; brave and active, and seem’d to be born for War, tho’ he had a Heart as tender and capable of receiving the Impressions of Love as any of our Sex. He had been bred for some Years at the University; where, among other Things, he learn’d to fence; in which, however, he was mightily improv’d in a Twelvemonth’s Time that he stay’d here in Town. Lucretia, his Sister, was beautiful enough, her Father designing to give ten thousand Pounds with her on Marriage; but (which is above all) she was incomparably good-humour’d.

At his Return to his Father in the Country, young Hardyman found Madam Diana Constance, a most beautiful Lady, with his Sister, at that Time about 16 Years old; somewhat tall of her Age, of happy and virtuous Education, of an indifferent Fortune, not exceeding two thousand Pounds, which was no Way answerable to the Expectations he had after his Father’s Death; but it was impossible he should not love her, she was so prodigiously charming both in her inward and outward Excellencies; especially since he had the Opportunity of conversing with her at his Father’s for above a Month. ’Tis true, he had seen her before, but it was then five Years since. Love her he did then, and that most passionately; nor was she insensible or ungrateful. But our young Lovers had not Discretion enough to conceal the Symptoms of their Passion, which too visibly and frequently sally’d out at their Eyes before the old Gentleman; which made him prudently, as he thought, and timely enough, offer his Daughter Lucretia the Liberty of taking a small Journey with Diana to her House, which was not above 20 Miles thence, where that young Lady’s Aunt govern’d in her Absence; for Diana had no other Relation, so near as she was, living in England, her only Brother Lewis having been in Italy and France ever since her Father dy’d, which was then near five Years past.

Lucretia, over-joy’d at her Father’s pretended Kindness, propos’d it to the young Lady, her Friend, who was very fond of the Proposal, hoping that Lucretia’s Brother might bear ’em Company there for some little Time; but old Sir Henry had quite different Thoughts of the Matter. The third Day, from the first Discourse of it, was assign’d for their Departure. In the mean Time young Hardyman knew not what to think of the Divorce he was going to suffer; for he began to have some Apprehensions that the old Knight was sensible, and displeas’d, that they lov’d each other: Not but that the Family of the Constances was as ancient and honourable as that of Hardymans, and was once endow’d with as plentiful an Estate, tho’ now young Lewis Constance had not above 1200l. a Year. (O the unkind Distance that Money makes, even between Friends!)

Old ’Squire Constance was a very worthy Gentleman, and Sir Henry had a particular Friendship for him; but (perhaps) that dy’d with him, and only a neighbourly Kindness, or something more than an ordinary Respect, surviv’d to his Posterity. The Day came that was to carry ’em to the young Lady Constance’s, and her Lover was preparing to attend ’em, when the old Gentleman ask’d him, What he meant by that Preparation? And whether he design’d to leave him alone? Or if he could think ’twere dutifully or decently done? To which the Son reply’d, That his Care of his Sister, and his Respect to a young Lady, in a Manner a Stranger to him, had misled his Thoughts from that Duty and Regard he ought to have pay’d to his Father, which he hop’d and begg’d he would pardon, tho’ he design’d only just to have seen her safe there, and to have return’d at Night. With this the old Gentleman seem’d pacify’d for the present; and he bid him go take Leave of the Lady; which he did with a great deal of Concern, telling her, that he should be most miserable ’till he had the Happiness of seeing her again; however, he begg’d she would converse with him by Letters, which might (happily) a little palliate his Misfortune in her Absence: Adding, that he would be eternally hers, and none but hers. To which she made as kind a Return as he could wish; letting him know, that she desired to live no longer than she was assur’d that she was belov’d by him. Then taking as solemn a Farewel of her as if he had never been to see her more, after he had given his Sister a parting Kiss or two, he led ’em down to his Father, who saw ’em mounted, and attended by two of his Servants. After which he walked with ’em about a Mile from the House, where he and young Hardyman left ’em to persue their Journey.