Chapter
15
I had a great many
thoughts in my head about my seeing him again, and was often sorry that I had
refused it. I was persuaded that if I had seen him, and let him know that I
knew him, I should have made some advantage of him, and perhaps have had some
maintenance from him; and though it was a life wicked enough, yet it was not so
full of danger as this I was engaged in. However, those thoughts wore off, and
I declined seeing him again, for that time; but my governess saw him often, and
he was very kind to her, giving her something almost every time he saw her. One
time in particular she found him very merry, and as she thought he had some
wine in his head, and he pressed her again very earnestly to let him see that
woman that, as he said, had bewitched him so that night, my governess,
who was from the beginning for my seeing him, told him he was so desirous of it
that she could almost yield of it, if she could prevail upon me; adding that if
he would please to come to her house in the evening, she would endeavour it,
upon his repeated assurances of forgetting what was past.
Accordingly she came to
me, and told me all the discourse; in short, she soon byass’d me to
consent, in a case which I had some regret in my mind for declining before; so
I prepared to see him. I dressed me to all the advantage possible, I assure
you, and for the first time used a little art; I say for the first time, for I
had never yielded to the baseness of paint before, having always had vanity
enough to believe I had no need of it.
At the hour appointed he
came; and as she observed before, so it was plain still, that he had been
drinking, though very far from what we call being in drink. He appeared
exceeding pleased to see me, and entered into a long discourse with me upon the
old affair. I begged his pardon very often for my share of it, protested I had
not any such design when first I met him, that I had not gone out with him but
that I took him for a very civil gentleman, and that he made me so many
promises of offering no uncivility to me.
He alleged the wine he
drank, and that he scarce knew what he did, and that if it had not been so, I
should never have let him take the freedom with me that he had done. He
protested to me that he never touched any woman but me since he was married to
his wife, and it was a surprise upon him; complimented me upon being so
particularly agreeable to him, and the like; and talked so much of that kind,
till I found he had talked himself almost into a temper to do the same thing
over again. But I took him up short. I protested I had never suffered any man
to touch me since my husband died, which was near eight years. He said he
believed it to be so truly; and added that madam had intimated as much to him,
and that it was his opinion of that part which made hi desire to see me again;
and that since he had once broke in upon his virtue with me, and found no ill
consequences, he could be safe in venturing there again; and so, in short, it
went on to what I expected, and to what will not bear relating.
My old governess had
foreseen it, as well as I, and therefore led him into a room which had not a
bed in it, and yet had a chamber within it which had a bed, whither we withdrew
for the rest of the night; and, in short, after some time being together, he
went to bed, and lay there all night. I withdrew, but came again undressed in
the morning, before it was day, and lay with him the rest of the time.
Thus, you see, having
committed a crime once is a sad handle to the committing of it again; whereas
all the regret and reflections wear off when the temptation renews itself. Had
I not yielded to see him again, the corrupt desire in him had worn off, and
’tis very probable he had never fallen into it with anybody else, as I really
believe he had not done before.
When he went away, I
told him I hoped he was satisfied he had not been robbed again. He told me he
was satisfied in that point, and could trust me again, and putting his hand in
his pocket, gave me five guineas, which was the first money I had gained that
way for many years.
I had several visits of
the like kind from him, but he never came into a settled way of maintenance,
which was what I would have best pleased with. Once, indeed, he asked me how I
did to live. I answered him pretty quick, that I assured him I had never taken
that course that I took with him, but that indeed I worked at my needle, and
could just maintain myself; that sometime it was as much as I was able to do,
and I shifted hard enough.
He seemed to reflect
upon himself that he should be the first person to lead me into that, which he
assured me he never intended to do himself; and it touched him a little, he
said, that he should be the cause of his own sin and mine too. He would often
make just reflections also upon the crime itself, and upon the particular
circumstances of it with respect to himself; how wine introduced the
inclinations how the devil led him to the place, and found out an object to
tempt him, and he made the moral always himself.
When these thoughts were
upon him he would go away, and perhaps not come again in a month’s time or
longer; but then as the serious part wore off, the lewd part would wear in, and
then he came prepared for the wicked part. Thus we lived for some time; thought
he did not keep, as they call it, yet he never failed doing things that were
handsome, and sufficient to maintain me without working, and, which was better,
without following my old trade.
But this affair had its
end too; for after about a year, I found that he did not come so often as usual,
and at last he left if off altogether without any dislike to bidding adieu; and
so there was an end of that short scene of life, which added no great store to
me, only to make more work for repentance.
However, during this
interval I confined myself pretty much at home; at least, being thus provided
for, I made no adventures, no, not for a quarter of a year after he left me;
but then finding the fund fail, and being loth to spend upon the main stock, I
began to think of my old trade, and to look abroad into the street again; and
my first step was lucky enough.
I had dressed myself up
in a very mean habit, for as I had several shapes to appear in, I was now in an
ordinary stuff-gown, a blue apron, and a straw hat and I placed myself at the
door of the Three Cups Inn in
It happened very oddly
that I was standing at the inn gate, and a woman that had stood there before,
and which was the porter’s wife belonging to the Barnet stage-coach,
having observed me, asked if I waited for any of the coaches. I told her Yes, I
waited for my mistress, that was coming to go to Bamet; She ask’d me who
was my mistress, and I told her any madam’s name that came next me; but as it
seemed, I happened upon a name, a family of which name lived at Hadly,
just beyond Barnet.
I said no more to her,
or she to me, a good while; but by and by, somebody calling her at a door a
little way off, she desired me that if anybody called for the Barnet
coach, I would step and call her at the house, which it seems was an alehouse.
I said Yes, very readily, and away she went.
She was no sooner gone
but comes a wench and a child, puffing and sweating, and asks for the Barnet
coach. I answered presently, ‘Here.’ ‘Do you belong to the Barnet
coach?’ says she. ‘Yes, sweetheart,’ said I; ‘what do ye want?’
‘I want room for two passengers,’ says she. ‘Where are they,
sweetheart?’ said
As soon as I had got the
bundle, and the maid was out of sight, I goes on towards the alehouse, where
the porter’s wife was, so that if I had met her, I had then only been going to
give her the bundle, and to call her to her business, as if I was going away,
and could stay no longer; but as I did not meet her, I walked away, and turning
into Charter-house-Lane, made off thro’ Charter-house-Yard, into Long-
Lane, then cross’d into Batholomew-Close, so into Little Britain,
and through the Bluecoat-Hospital, into Newgate Street.
To prevent my being
known, I pulled off my blue apron, and wrapped the bundle in it, which before
was made up in a piece of painted calico, and very remarkable; I also wrapped
up my straw hat in it, and so put the bundle upon my head; and it was very well
that I did thus, for coming thro’ the Blue-Coat Hospital, who should I
meet but the wench that had given me the bundle to hold. It seems she was going
with her mistress, whom she had been gone to fetch, to the Barnet
coaches.
I saw she was in haste,
and I had no business to stop her; so away she went, and I brought my bundle
safe home to my governess. There was no money, nor plate, or jewels in the
bundle, but a very good suit of Indian damask, a gown and a petticoat, a
laced-head and ruffles of very good Flanders lace, and some linen and other
things, such as I knew very well the value of.
This was not indeed my
own invention, but was given me by one that had practis’d it with success, and
my governess liked it extremely; and indeed I tried it again several times,
though never twice near the same place; for the next time I tried it in White-Chappel,
just by the corner of Petticoat Lane, where the coaches stand that go
out to Stratford and Bow, and that side of the country, and
another time at the Flying Horse, without Bishops-gate, where the
Chester coaches then lay; and I had always the good luck to come off
with some booty.
Another time I placed
myself at a warehouse by the waterside, where the coasting vessels from the north
come, such as from New-castle upon Tyne,
Away went I, and getting
materials in a public house, I wrote a letter from Mr. John Richardson
of New- Castle to his dear cousin Jemey Cole, in London,
with an account that he sent by such a vessel (for I remembered all the
particulars to a title), so many pieces of huckaback linen, so many ells of Dutch
holland and the like, in a box, and a hamper of flint glasses from Mr. Henzill’s
Glass-house, and that the box was marked I. C. No. 1, and the hamper was
directed by a label on the Cording.
About an hour after, I
came to the warehouse, found the warehouse-keeper, and had the goods delivered
me without any scruple; the value of the linen being about
I could fill up this
whole discourse with the variety of such adventures, which daily invention
directed to, and which I managed with the utmost dexterity, and always with
success.
At length-as when does
the pitcher come safe home that goes so very often to the well?-I fell into
some small broils, which though they could not affect me fatally, yet made me
known, which was the worst thing next to being found guilty that could befall
me.
I had taken up the
disguise of a widow’s dress; it was without any real design in view, but only
waiting for anything that might offer, as I often did. It happened that while I
was going along the street in
Some of the servants
likewise used me saucily, and had much ado to keep their hands off me; the
master indeed was civiler to me than they, but he would not yet let me go,
though he owned he could not say I was in his shop before.
I began to be a little
surly with him, and told him I hoped he would not take it ill if I made myself
amends upon him in a more legal way another time; and desired I might send for
friends to see me have right done me. No, he said, he could give no such
liberty; I might ask it when I came before the justice of peace; and seeing I
threatened him, he would take care of me in the meantime, and would lodge me
safe in Newgate: I told him it was his time now, but it would be mine by
and by, and governed my passion as well as I was able. However, I spoke to the
constable to call me a porter, which he did, and then I called for pen, ink,
and paper, but they would let me have none. I asked the porter his name, and
where he lived, and the poor man told it me very willingly. I bade him observe
and remember how I was treated there; that he saw I was detained there by
force. I told him I should want his evidence in another place, and it should
not be the worse for him to speak. The porter said he would serve me with all
his heart. ‘But, madam,’ says he, ‘let me hear them refuse to let you
go, then I may be able to speak the plainer.’
With that I spoke aloud
to the master of the shop, and said, ‘Sir, you know in your own conscience that
I am not the person you look for, and that I was not in your shop before,
therefore I demand that you detain me here no longer, or tell me the reason of
your stopping me.’ The fellow grew surlier upon this than before, and said he
would do neither till he thought fit. ‘Very well,’ said I to the constable and
to the porter; ‘you will be pleased to remember this, gentlemen, another time.’
The porter said, ‘Yes, madam’; and the constable began not to like it,
and would have persuaded the mercer to dismiss him, and let me go, since, as he
said, he owned I was not the person. ‘Good, sir,’ says the mercer to him
tauntingly, ‘are you a justice of peace or a constable? I charged you with
her; pray do you do your duty.’ The constable told him, a little moved, but
very handsomely, ‘I know my duty, and what I am, sir; I doubt you hardly
know what you are doing.’ They had some other hard words, and in the
meantime the journeyman, impudent and unmanly to the last degree, used me
barbarously, and one of them, the same that first seized upon me, pretended he
would search me, and began to lay hands on me. I spit in his face, called out
to the constable, and bade him to take notice of my usage. ‘And pray, Mr.
Constable,’ said I, ‘ask that villain’s name,’ pointing to the man. The
constable reproved him decently, told him that he did not know what he did, for
he knew that his master acknowledged I was not the person that was in his shop;
‘and,’ says the constable, ‘I am afraid your master is bringing himself, and me
too, into trouble, if this gentlewoman comes to prove who she is, and where she
was, and it appears that she is not the woman you pretend to.’ ‘Dam her,’
says the fellow again, with a impudent, hardened face, ‘she is the lady,
you may depend upon it; I’ll swear she is the same body that was in the shop,
and that I gave the pieces of satin that is lost into her own hand. You shall
hear more of it when Mr. William and Mr. Anthony (those were other
journeymen) come back; they will know her again as well as I.’
Just as the insolent
rogue was talking thus to the constable, comes back Mr. William and Mr. Anthony,
as he called them, and a great rabble with them, bringing along with them the
true widow that I was pretended to be; and they came sweating and blowing into
the shop, and with a great deal of triumph, dragging the poor creature in the
most butcherly manner up towards their master, who was in the back shop, and
cried out aloud, ‘Here’s the widow, sir; we have catcher her at last.’ ‘What do
ye mean by that?’ says the master. ‘Why, we have her already; there she
sits,’ says he, ‘and Mr.—,’ says he, ‘can swear this is she.’ The
other man, whom they called Mr. Anthony, replied, ‘Mr.—may say what he
will, and swear what he will, but this is the woman, and there’s the remnant of
satin she stole; I took it out of her clothes with my own hand.’
I sat still now, and
began to take a better heart, but smiled and said nothing; the master looked
pale; the constable turned about and looked at me. ‘Let ’em alone, Mr. Constable,’
said I; ‘let ’em go on.’ The case was plain and could not be denied, so
the constable was charged with the right thief, and the mercer told me very
civilly he was sorry for the mistake, and hoped I would not take it ill; that
they had so many things of this nature put upon them every day, that they could
not be blamed for being very sharp in doing themselves justice. ‘Not take it
ill, sir!’ said I; ‘how can I take it well! If you had dismissed me when
your insolent fellow seized on me it the street, and brought me to you, and
when you yourself acknowledged I was not the person, I would have put it by,
and not taken it ill, because of the many ill things I believe you have put
upon you daily; but your treatment of me since has been insufferable, and
especially that of your servant; I must and will have reparation for that.’
Then be began to parley
with me, said he would make me any reasonable satisfaction, and would fain have
had me tell him what it was I expected. I told him that I should not be my own
judge, the law should decide it for me; and as I was to be carried before a
magistrate, I should let him hear there what I had to say. He told me there was
no occasion to go before the justice now, I was at liberty to go where I
pleased; and so, calling to the constable, told him he might let me go, for I
was discharge. The constable said calmly to him, ‘sir, you asked me just now if
I knew whether I was a constable or justice, and bade me do my duty, and
charged me with this gentlewoman as a prisoner. Now, sir, I find you do not
understand what is my duty, for you would make me a justice indeed; but I must
tell you it is not in my power. I may keep a prisoner when I am charged with
him, but ’tis the law and the magistrate alone that can discharge that prisoner;
therefore ’tis a mistake, sir; I must carry her before a justice now, whether
you think well of it or not.’ The mercer was very high with the constable at
first; but the constable happening to be not a hired officer, but a good,
substantial kind of man (I think he was a corn-handler), and a man of good
sense, stood to his business, would not discharge me without going to a justice
of the peace; and I insisted upon it too. When the mercer saw that, ‘Well,’ says
he to the constable, ‘you may carry her where you please; I have nothing to
say to her.’ ‘But, sir,’ says the constable, ‘you will go with us, I
hope, for ’tis you that charged me with her.’ ‘No, not I,’ says the mercer;
‘I tell you I have nothing to say to her.’ ‘But pray, sir, do,’ says the
constable; ‘I desire it of you for your own sake, for the justice can do
nothing without you.’ ‘Prithee, fellow,’ says the mercer, ‘go about your
business; I tell you I have nothing to say to the gentlewoman. I charge you in
the king’s name to dismiss her.’ ‘Sir,’ says the constable, ‘I find you
don’t know what it is to be constable; I beg of you don’t oblige me to be rude
to you.’ ‘I think I need not; you are rude enough already,’ says the mercer.
‘No, sir,’ says the constable, ‘I am not rude; you have broken the peace
in bringing an honest woman out of the street, when she was about her lawful
occasion, confining her in your shop, and ill-using her here by your servants;
and now can you say I am rude to you? I think I am civil to you in not
commanding or charging you in the king’s name to go with me, and charging every
man I see that passes your door to aid and assist me in carrying you by force;
this you cannot but know I have power to do, and yet I forbear it, and once
more entreat you to go with me.’ Well, he would not for all this, and gave the
constable ill language. However, the constable kept his temper, and would not
be provoked; and then I put in and said, ‘Come, Mr. Constable, let him alone; I
shall find ways enough to fetch him before a magistrate, I don’t fear that; but
there’s the fellow,’ says I, ‘he was the man that seized on me as I was
innocently going along the street, and you are a witness of the violence with
me since; give me leave to charge you with him, and carry him before the
justice.’ ‘Yes, madam,’ says the constable; and turning to the fellow
‘Come, young gentleman,’ says he to the journey-man, ‘you must go along
with us; I hope you are not above the constable’s power, though your master
is.’
The fellow looked like a
condemned thief, and hung back, then looked at his master, as if he could help
him; and he, like a fool, encourage the fellow to be rude, and he truly
resisted the constable, and pushed him back with a good force when he went to
lay hold on him, at which the constable knocked him down, and called out for
help; and immediately the shop was filled with people, and the constable seized
the master and man, and all his servants.
This first ill
consequence of this fray was, that the woman they had taken, who was really the
thief, made off, and got clear away in the crowd; and two other that they had
stopped also; whether they were really guilty or not, that I can say nothing
to.
By this time some of his
neighbours having come in, and, upon inquiry, seeing how things went, had endeavour’d
to bring the hot-brain’d mercer to his senses, and he began to be convinced
that he was in the wrong; and so at length we went all very quietly before the
justice, with a mob of about five hundred people at our heels; and all the way
I went I could hear the people ask what was the matter, and other reply and
say, a mercer had stopped a gentlewoman instead of a thief, and had afterwards
taken the thief, and now the gentlewoman had taken the mercer, and was carrying
him before the justice. This pleased the people strangely, and made the crowd
increase, and they cried out as they went, ‘Which is the rogue? which is the
mercer?’ and especially the women. Then when they saw him they cried out, ‘That’s
he, that’s he’; and every now and then came a good dab of dirt at him; and
thus we marched a good while, till the mercer thought fit to desire the
constable to call a coach to protect himself from the rabble; so we rode the
rest of the way, the constable and I, and the mercer and his man.
When we came to the
justice, which was an ancient gentleman in Bloomsbury, the constable
giving first a summary account of the matter, the justice bade me speak, and
tell what I had to say. And first he asked my name, which I was very loath to
give, but there was no remedy, so I told him my name was Mary Flanders,
that I was a widow, my husband being a sea captain, died on a voyage to Virginia;
and some other circumstances I told which he could never contradict, and that I
lodged at present in town with such a person, naming my governess; but that I
was preparing to go over to America, where my husband’s effects lay, and
that I was going that day to buy some clothes to put myself into second
mourning, but had not yet been in any shop, when that fellow, pointing to the
mercer’s journeyman, came rushing upon me with such fury as very much frighted
me, and carried me back to his master’s shop, where, though his master
acknowledged I was not the person, yet he would not dismiss me, but charged a
constable with me.
Then I proceeded to tell
how the journeyman treated me; how they would not suffer me to send for any of
my friends; how afterwards they found the real thief, and took the very goods
they had lost upon her, and all the particulars as before.
Then the constable
related his case: his dialogue with the mercer about discharging me, and at
last his servant’s refusing to go with him, when he had charged him with him,
and his master encouraging him to do so, and at last his striking the
constable, and the like, all as I have told it already.
The justice then heard
the mercer and his man. The mercer indeed made a long harangue of
the great loss they have daily by lifters and thieves; that it was easy for
them to mistake, and that when he found it he would have dismissed me, etc., as
above. As to the journeyman, he had very little to say, but that he pretended
other of the servants told him that I was really the person.
Upon the whole, the just
first of all told me very courteously I was discharged; that he was very sorry
that the mercer’s man should in his eager pursuit have so little
discretion as to take up an innocent person for a guilty person; that if he had
not been so unjust as to detain me afterward, he believed I would have forgiven
the first affront; that, however, it was not in his power to award me any
reparation for anything, other than by openly reproving them, which he should
do; but he supposed I would apply to such methods as the law directed; in the
meantime he would bind him over.
But as to the breach of
the peace committed by the journeyman, he told me he should give me some
satisfaction for that, for he should commit him to Newgate for
assaulting the constable, and for assaulting me also.
Accordingly he sent the
fellow to Newgate for that assault, and his master gave bail, and so we
came away; but I had the satisfaction of seeing the mob wait upon them both, as
they came out, Holooing and throwing stones and dirt at the coaches they rode
in; and so I came home to my governess.
After this hustle,
coming home and telling my governess the story, she falls a-laughing at me.
‘Why are you merry?’ says I; ‘the story has not so much laughing room in
it as you imagine; I am sure I have had a great deal of hurry and fright too,
with a pack of ugly rogues.’ ‘Laugh!’ says my governess; ‘I laugh,
child, to see what a lucky creature you are; why, this job will be the best
bargain to you that ever you made in your life, if you manage it well. I
warrant you,’ says she, ‘you shall make the mercer pay you
I had other thoughts of
the matter than she had; and especially, because I had given in my name to the
justice of peace; and I knew that my name was so well known among the people at
Hick’s Hall, the Old Baily, and such places, that if this cause
came to be tried openly, and my name came to be inquired into, no court would
give much damages, for the reputation of a person of such a character. However,
I was obliged to begin a prosecution in form, and accordingly my governess
found me out a very creditable sort of a man to manage it, being an attorney of
very good business, and of a good reputation, and she was certainly in the
right of this; for had she employed a pettifogging hedge solicitor, or a man
not known, and not in good reputation, I should have brought it to but little.
I met this attorney, and
gave him all the particulars at large, as they are recited above; and he
assured me it was a case, as he said, that would very well support
itself, and that he did not question but that a jury would give very
considerable damages on such an occasion; so taking his full instructions he
began the prosecution, and the mercer being arrested, gave bail. A few
days after his giving bail, he comes with his attorney to my attorney, to let
him know that he desired to accommodate the matter; that it was all carried on
I the heat of an unhappy passion; that his client, meaning me, had a
sharp provoking tongue, that I used them ill, gibing at them, and jeering them,
even while they believed me to be the very person, and that I had provoked
them, and the like.
My attorney managed as
well on my side; made them believe I was a widow of fortune, that I was able to
do myself justice, and had great friends to stand by me too, who had all made
me promise to sue to the utmost, and that if it cost me a thousand pounds I
would be sure to have satisfaction, for that the affronts I had received were
insufferable.
However, they brought my
attorney to this, that he promised he would not blow the coals, that if I
inclined to accommodation, he would not hinder me, and that he would rather
persuade me to peace than to war; for which they told him he should be no
loser; all which he told me very honestly, and told me that if they offered him
any bribe, I should certainly know it; but upon the whole he told me very
honestly that if I would take his opinion, he would advise me to make it up
with them, for that as they were in a great fright, and were desirous above all
things to make it up, and knew that, let it be what it would, they would be
allotted to bear all the costs of the suit; he believed they would give me
freely more than any jury or court of justice would give upon a trial. I asked
him what he thought they would be brought to. He told me he could not tell as
to that, but he would tell me more when I saw him again.
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