They who had a regard for Mrs. Manley could not but observe with concern, that her conduct was such, as would soon issue in her ruin. No language but flattery approached her ear; the Beaux told her, that a woman of her wit, was not to be confined to the dull formalities of her own sex, but had a right to assume the unreserved freedom of the male, since all things were pardonable to a lady, who knew to give laws to others, yet was not obliged to keep them herself. General Tidcomb, who seems to have been her sincerest friend, took the privilege of an old acquaintance to correct her ill taste, and the wrong turn she gave her judgment, in admitting adulation from such wretches, whose praise could reflect but little honour, and who would be ready to boast of favours they never received, nor indeed ever endeavoured to obtain.
This salutary council was rejected; she told him, that she did not think fit to reform a conduct, which she reckoned very innocent; and still continued to receive the whispers of flatterers, 'till experience taught her the folly of her behaviour, and she lived to repent her indiscretion.
Her virtue was now nodding, and she was ready to fall into the arms of any gallant, like mellow fruit, without much trouble in the gathering. Sir Thomas Skipwith, a character of gaiety of those times, and, who it seems had theatrical connections, was recommended to her, as being very able to promote her design in writing for the stage. This knight was in the 50th year of his age, and in the 60th of his constitution, when he was first introduced to her, and as he had been a long practised gallant, he soon made addresses to her, and whether or no this knight, who was more dangerous to a woman's reputation, than her virtue, was favoured by her, the world was so much convinced of it, that her character was now absolutely lost. Sir Thomas was a weak, vain, conceited coxcomb, who delighted in boasting of his conquests over women, and what was often owing to his fortune, and station in life, he imputed to his address, and the elegance of his manner, of both which he was totally destitute. He even published Mrs. Manley's dishonour, and from that time our sprightly poetess was considered, by the sober part of the sex, quite abandoned to all shame.
When her affair with this superannuated knight was over, she soon engaged in another intrigue, still more prejudicial to her character; for it was with a married man, one Mr. Tilly, a gentleman of the Law; with whom she lived a considerable time: while he underwent at home many of those severe lectures, which the just provocation, and jealousy of his wife taught her to read him. Mrs. Tilly at last died, and our gallant was left at his freedom to marry the object of his passion; but unluckily his finances were in such a situation, that he was obliged to repair them by marrying a woman of fortune. This was a cruel circumstance; for he really loved, and doated upon Mrs. Manley, and had the felicity of a reciprocal passion. She agreed however, in order to repair his fortune, that he should marry a rich young widow, whom he soon won by the elegance of his address, while our authoress retired into the country to spend her days in solitude and sorrow, and bid an everlasting farewel to the pleasures of love and gallantry. Mr. Tilly did not many years survive this reparation: his life was rendered miserable at home by the jealousy of his young wife, who had heard of his affair with Mrs. Manley; he lost his senses, and died in a deplorable situation.
During her retirement, our authoress, who had a most confirmed aversion to the Whig ministry, wrote her Atalantis, which was meant as a representation of the characters of some of those, who had effected the Revolution. A warrant was granted from the secretary of state's office, to seize the Printer and Publisher of these volumes. This circumstance reduced the writer to a very troublesome dilemma; she could not bear the thoughts that innocent people should suffer on her account, and she judged it cruel to remain concealed, while they who were only inferior instruments, were suffering for her. She consulted, on this occasion, her best friend, general Tidcomb, who, after rallying her for exposing people, who had never in particular injured her, he advised her to go into France, and made her an offer of his purse for that purpose. This advice she rejected, and came to a determined resolution, that no person should ever suffer on her account. The general asked her, how she should like to be confined in Newgate? to which she answered, that she would rather lye in a prison, after having discharged her conference, than riot in a palace under its reproaches. The general upon this replied, that these things sounded very heroic, but there was a great difference between real and imaginary sufferings, 'that she had chosen to declare herself for the Tories, a party, who never could keep their own, nor other people's secrets, and were ever forgetful of such as served them; that the most severe critics upon the Tory writings, were the Tories themselves, who never considering the design, or honest intention of the author, would examine the performance only, and that too with as much severity, as they would an enemy's, and at the same time value themselves upon being impartial against their friends. Then as to gratitude, or generosity, the Tories did not approach to the Whigs, who never suffered any man to go unrewarded, however dull, or insignificant, provided he declared himself to be for them; whereas the Tories had no general interest, and consequently no particular, each person refusing to contribute towards the benefit of the whole; and if it should happen, that she should perish, through want, in a Jail, they would sooner condemn her folly, than pity her sufferings.'
This did not deter our poetess from voluntarily preferring herself before the Court of King's Bench, as the author of the Atalantis.
When she was examined before the secretary (then lord Sunderland) he was assiduous to know from whom she had got information of some particulars, which they imagined were above her own intelligence. Her defence was with much humility and sorrow, at the same time denying that any persons were concerned with her, or that she had a farther design than writing for her own amusement, and diversion in the country, without intending particular reflexions, or characters; when this was not believed, and the contrary urged against her by several circumstances, she said, 'then it must be by inspiration, because knowing her own innocence, she could account for it no other way.' The secretary replied, 'that inspiration used to be upon a good account, and her writings were stark naught.' She, with an air of penitence, 'acknowledged, that his lordship's observation might be true, but that there were evil angels, as well as good, so that nevertheless what she had wrote, might still be by inspiration.'
In consequence of this examination, our authoress was close shut up
in a messenger's house, without being allowed pen, ink, and paper.
However her council sued out her Habeas Corpus at the King's-Bench
Bar, and she was admitted to bail.
Whether those in power were ashamed to bring a woman to her trial, for writing a few amorous trifles, or our laws were defective, as was generally conjectured, because she had disguised her satire under romantic names, and a feigned scene of action, she was discharged, after several times exposing her in person, to cross the court before the Bench of Judges, with her three attendants, the Printer, and two Publishers.
Not long after this a total change of the ministry ensued, the statesmen to whom she had been obnoxious were removed, and consequently all her fears upon that score dissipated; her native gaiety, and good humour returned, and she again employed herself in writing a tragedy for the stage, and resolved never more to deal in politics, as being much out of the natural sphere of a woman, she was persuaded it was folly in one in her station, to disoblige any party by a pen, equally qualified to divert all. Being advanced to the autumn of her charms, she conversed with the opposite sex, in a manner very delicate, sensible, and agreeable, and when she felt that time had left his impression upon her brow, she did not court praise and flattery. The greatest genius's of the times conversed freely with her, and gave her daily proofs of esteem, and friendship, except Sir Richard Steele, with whom it seems she was at variance; and indeed Sir Richard sufficiently exposed himself by his manner of taking revenge; for he published to the world that it was his own fault he was not happy with Mrs. Manley, for which omission he publickly, and gravely asked her pardon.