Chapter
16
Some time after this,
they came again to know if he had talked with me. He told them he had; that he
found me not so averse to an accommodation as some of my friends were, who
resented the disgrace offered me, and set me on; that they blow’d the coals in
secret, prompting me to revenge, or do myself justice, as they called it; so
that he could not tell what to say to it; he told them he would do his
endeavour to persuade me, but he ought to be able to tell me what proposal they
made. They pretended they could not make any proposal, because it might be made
use of against them; and he told them, that by the same rule he could not make
any offers, for that might be pleaded in abatement of what damages a jury might
be inclined to give. However, after some discourse and mutual promises that no
advantage should be taken on either side, by what was transacted then or at any
other of those meetings, they came to a kind of a treaty; but so remote, and so
wide from one another, that nothing could be expected from it; for my attorney
demanded
My attorney gave me
notice to come to this meeting in good clothes, and with some state, that the mercer
might see I was something more than I seemed to be that time they had me.
Accordingly I came in a new suit of second mourning, according to what I had
said at the justice’s. I set myself out, too, as well as a widow’s dress in
second mourning would admit; my governess also furnished me with a good pearl
necklace, that shut in behind with a locket of diamonds, which she had in pawn;
and I had a very good figure; and as I stayed till I was sure they were come, I
came in a coach to the door, with my maid with me.
When I came into the
room the mercer was surprised. He stood up and made his bow, which I
took a little notice of, and but a little, and went and sat down where my own
attorney had pointed to me to sit, for it was his house. After a little while
the mercer said, he did not know me again, and began to make some
compliments his way. I told him, I believed he did not know me at first, and
that if he had, I believed he would not have treated me as he did.
He told me he was very
sorry for what had happened, and that it was to testify the willingness he had
to make all possible reparation that he had appointed this meeting; that he
hoped I would not carry things to extremity, which might be not only too great
a loss to him, but might be the ruin of his business and shop, in which case I
might have the satisfaction of repaying an injury with an injury ten times
greater; but that I would then get nothing, whereas he was willing to do me any
justice that was in his power, without putting himself or me to the trouble or
charge of a suit at law.
I told him I was glad to
hear him talk so much more like a man of sense than he did before; that it was
true, acknowledgment in most cases of affronts was counted reparation
sufficient; but this had gone too far to be made up so; that I was not
revengeful, nor did I seek his ruin, or any man’s else, but that all my friends
were unanimous not to let me so far neglect my character as to adjust a thing
of this kind without a sufficient reparation of Honour: That to be taken up for
a thief was such an indignity as could not be put up; that my character was
above being treated so by any that knew me, but because in my condition of a
widow I had been for some time careless of myself, and negligent of myself, I
might be taken for such a creature, but that for the particular usage I had
from him afterwards, —and then I repeated all as before; it was so provoking I
had scarce patience to repeat it.
Well, he acknowledged all,
and was might humble indeed; he made proposals very handsome; he came up to
This was a clause he
never could comply with. However, at last he came up, by good management of my
attorney, to
When I came to receive
the money, I brought my governess with me, dressed like an old duchess, and a
gentleman very well dressed, who we pretended courted me, but I called him
cousin, and the lawyer was only to hint privately to him that his gentleman
courted the widow.
He treated us handsomely
indeed, and paid the money cheerfully enough; so that it cost him
When we were at supper
he brought the poor fellow in to make acknowledgment, which he would have done
with as much mean humility as his offence was with insulting haughtiness and
pride, in which he was an instance of a complete baseness of spirit, impious,
cruel, and relentless when uppermost and in prosperity, abject and low-spirited
when down in affliction. However, I abated his cringes, told him I forgave him,
and desired he might withdraw, as if I did not care for the sight of him,
though I had forgiven him.
I was now in good
circumstances indeed, if I could have known my time for leaving off, and my
governess often said I was the richest of the trade in England; and so I
believe I was, for I had
It was not long after
the affair with the mercer was made up, that I went out in an equipage quite
different from any I had ever appeared in before. I dressed myself like a
beggar woman, in the coarsest and most despicable rags I could get, and I
walked about peering and peeping into every door and window I came near; and
indeed I was in such a plight now that I knew as ill how to behave in as ever I
did in any. I naturally abhorred dirt and rags; I had been bred up tight and
cleanly, and could be no other, whatever condition I was in; so that this was
the most uneasy disguise to me that ever I put on. I said presently to myself
that this would not do, for this was a dress that everybody was shy and afraid
of; and I thought everybody looked at me, as if they were afraid I should come
near them, lest I should take something from them, or afraid to come near me,
lest they should get something from me. I wandered about all the evening the
first time I went out, and made nothing of it, but came home again wet,
draggl’d, and tired. However, I went out again the next night, and then I met
with a little adventure, which had like to have cost me dear. As I was standing
near a tavern door, there comes a gentleman on horseback, and lights at the
door, and wanting to go into the tavern, he calls one of the drawers to hold
his horse. He stayed pretty long in the tavern, and the drawer heard his master
call, and thought he would be angry with him. Seeing me stand by him, he called
to me, ‘Here, woman,’ says he, ‘hold this horse a while, till I go in;
if the gentleman comes, he’ll give you something.’ ‘Yes,’ says I, and
takes the horse, and walks off with him very soberly, and carried him to my
governess.
This had been a booty to
those that had understood it; but never was poor thief more at a loss to know
what to do with anything that was stolen; for when I came home, my governess
was quite confounded, and what to do with the creature, we neither of us knew.
To send him to a sable was doing nothing, for it was certain that public notice
would be given in the Gazette, and the horse described, so that we durst
not go to fetch it again.
All the remedy we had
for this unlucky adventure was to go and set up the horse at an inn, and send a
note by a porter to the tavern, that the gentleman’s horse that was lost such a
time was left at such an inn, and that he might be had there; that the poor
woman that held him, having led him about the street, not being able to lead
him back again, had left him there. We might have waited till the owner had
published and offered a reward, but we did not care to venture the receiving
the reward.
So this was a robbery
and no robbery, for little was lost by it, and nothing was got by it, and I was
quite sick of going out in a beggar’s dress; it did not answer at all, and
besides, I thought it was ominous and threatening.
While I was in this disguise,
I fell in with a parcel of folks of a worse kind than any I ever sorted with,
and I saw a little into their ways too. These were coiners of money, and they
made some very good offers to me, as to profit; but the part they would have
had me have embarked in was the most dangerous part. I mean that of the very
working the die, as they call it, which, had I been taken, had been certain
death, and that at a stake, I say, to be burnt to death at a stake; so
that though I was to appearance but a beggar, and they promised mountains of
gold and silver to me to engage, yet it would not do. It is true, if I had been
really a beggar, or had been desperate as when I began, I might perhaps have
closed with it; for what care they to die that can’t tell how to live? But at
present this was not my condition, at least I was for no such terrible risks as
those; besides, the very thoughts of being burnt at a stake struck terror into
my very soul, chilled my blood, and gave me the vapours to such a degree, as I
could not think of it without trembling.
This put an end to my
disguise too, for as I did not like the proposal, so I did not tell them so,
but seemed to relish it, and promised to meet again. But I durst see them no
more; for if I had seen them, and not complied, though I had declined it with
the greatest assurance of secrecy in the world, they would have gone near to
have murdered me, to make sure work, and make themselves easy, as they call
it. What kind of easiness that is, they may best judge that understand how
easy men are that can murder people to prevent danger.
This and horse-stealing
were things quite out of my way, and I might easily resolve I would have to
more to say to them; my business seemed to lie another way, and though it had
hazard enough in it too, yet it was more suitable to me, and what had more of
art in it, and more room to escape, and more chances for a-coming off if a
surprise should happen.
I had several proposals
made also to me about that time, to come into a gang of house-breakers; but that
was a thing I had no mind to venture at neither, any more than I had at the
coining trade. I offered to go along with two men and a woman, that made it
their business to get into houses by stratagem, and with them I was willing
enough to venture. But there were three of them already, and they did not care
to part, nor I to have too many in a gang, so I did not close with them, but
declined them, and they paid dear for their next attempt.
But at length I met with
a woman that had often told me what adventures she had made, and with success,
at the waterside, and I closed with her, and we drove on our business pretty
well. One day we came among some Dutch people at St. Catherine’s,
where we went on pretence to buy goods that were privately got on shore. I was
two or three times in a house where we saw a good quantity of prohibited goods,
and my companion once brought away three pieces of Dutch black silk that
turned to good account, and I had my share of it; but in all the journeys I
made by myself, I could not get an opportunity to do anything, so I laid it
aside, for I had been so often, that they began to suspect something, and were
so shy, that I saw nothing was to be done.
This baulk’d me a
little, and I resolved to push at something or other, for I was not used to
come back so often without purchase; so the next day I dressed myself up fine,
and took a walk to the other end of the town. I passed through the Exchange
in the Strand, but had no notion of finding anything to do there, when
on a sudden I saw a great cluttering in the place, and all the people,
shopkeepers as well as others, standing up and staring; and what should it be
but some great duchess come into the Exchange, and they said the queen
was coming. I set myself close up to a shop-side with my back to the counter,
as if to let the crowd pass by, when keeping my eye upon a parcel of lace which
the shopkeeper was showing to some ladies that stood by me, the shopkeeper and
her maid were so taken up with looking to see who was coming, and what shop
they would go to, that I found means to slip a paper of lace into my pocket and
come clear off with it; so the lady-milliner paid dear enough for her gaping
after the queen.
I went off from the
shop, as if driven along by the throng, and mingling myself with the crowd,
went out at the other door of the Exchange, and so got away before they
missed their lace; and because I would not be followed, I called a coach and
shut myself up in it. I had scarce shut the coach doors up, but I saw the
milliner’s maid and five or six more come running out into the street, and
crying out as if they were frightened. They did not cry ‘Stop thief!’ because
nobody ran away, but I could hear the word ‘robbed,’ and ‘lace,’ two or three
times, and saw the wench wringing her hands, and run staring to and again, like
one scared. The coachman that had taken me up was getting up into the box, but
was not quite up, so that the horse had not begun to move; so that I was
terrible uneasy, and I took the packet of lace and laid it ready to have
dropped it out at the flap of the coach, which opens before, just behind the
coachman; but to my great satisfaction, in less than a minute the coach began
to move, that is to say, as soon as the coachman had got up and spoken to his
horses; so he drove away without any interruption, and I brought off my
purchase, which was work near
The next day I dressed
up again, but in quite different clothes, and walked the same way again, but
nothing offered till I came into St. James’s Park, where I saw abundance
of fine ladies in the Park, walking in the Mall, and among the
rest there was a little miss, a young lady of about twelve or thirteen years
old, and she had a sister, as I suppose it was, with her, that might be about
nine years old. I observed the biggest had a fine gold watch on, and a good
necklace of pearl, and they had a footman in livery with them; but as it is not
usual for the footman to go behind the ladies in the Mall, so I observed
the footman stopped at their going into the Mall, and the biggest of the
sisters spoke to him, which I perceived was to bid him be just there when they
came back.
When I heard her dismiss
the footman, I stepped up to him and asked him, what little lady that was? and
held a little chat with him about what a pretty child it was with her, and how
genteel and well carriag’d the lady, the eldest, would be: how womanish, and
how grave; and the fool of a fellow told me presently who she was; that she was
Sir Thomas—’s eldest daughter, of Essex, and that she was a great
fortune; that her mother was not come to town yet; but she was with Sir William—’s
lady, of Suffolk, at her lodging in Suffolk-Street, and a great
deal more; that they had a maid and a woman to wait on them, besides Sir Thomas’s
coach, the coachman, and himself; and that young lady was governess to the
whole family, as well here as at home too; and, in short, told me abundance of
things enough for my business.
I was very well dressed,
and had my gold watch as well as she; so I left the footman, and I puts myself
in a rank with this young lady, having stayed till she had taken one double
turn in the Mall, and was going forward again; by and by I saluted her
by her name, with the title of Lady Betty. I asked her when she heard
from her father; when my lady her mother would be in town, and how she did.
I talked so familiarly
to her of her whole family that she could not suspect but that I knew them all
intimately. I asked her why she would come abroad without Mrs. Chime
with her (that was the name of her woman) to take of Mrs. Judith, that
was her sister. Then I entered into a long chat with her about her sister, what
a fine little lady she was, and asked her if she had learned French, and
a thousand such little things to entertain her, when on a sudden we saw the
guards come, and the crowd ran to see the king go by to the Parliament House.
The ladies ran all to
the side of the Mall, and I helped my lady to stand upon the edge of the
boards on the side of the Mall, that she might be high enough to see;
and took the little one and lifter her quite up; during which, I took care to
convey the gold watch so clean away from the Lady Betty, that she never
felt it, nor missed it, till all the crowd was gone, and she was gotten into
the middle of the Mall among the other ladies.
I took my leave of her
in the very crowd, and said to her, as if in haste, ‘Dear Lady Betty,
take care of your little sister.’ And so the crowd did as it were thrust me
away from her, and that I was obliged unwillingly to take my leave.
The hurry in such cases
is immediately over, and the place clear as soon as the king is gone by; but as
there is always a great running and clutter just as the king passes, so having
dropped the two little ladies, and done my business with them without any
miscarriage, I kept hurrying on among the crowd, as if I ran to see the king,
and so I got before the crowd and kept so till I came to the end of the Mall,
when the king going on towards the Horse Guards, I went forward to the passage,
which went then through against the lower end of the Hay-Market, and
there I bestowed a coach upon myself, and made off, and I confess I have not
yet been so good as my word, viz. to go and visit my Lady Betty.
I was once of the mind
to venture staying with Lady Betty till she missed the watch, and so
have made a great outcry about it with her, and have got her into the coach,
and put myself in the coach with her, and have gone home with her; for she
appeared so fond of me, and so perfectly deceived by my so readily talking to
her of all her relations and family, that I thought it was very easy to push
the thing farther, and to have got at least the necklace of pearl; but when I
considered that though the child would not perhaps have suspected me, other
people might, and that if I was searched I should be discovered, I thought it
was best to go off with what I had got, and be satisfied.
I came accidentally
afterwards to hear, that when the young lady missed her watch, she made a great
outcry in the Park, and sent her footman up and down to see if he could find me
out, she having described me so perfectly that he knew presently that it was
the same person that had stood and talked so long with him, and asked him so
many questions about them; but I gone far enough out of their reach before she
could come at her footman to tell him the story.
I made another adventure
after this, of a nature different from all I had been concerned in yet, and
this was at a gaming-house near Covent-Garden.
I saw several people go
in and out; and I stood in the passage a good while with another woman with me,
and seeing a gentleman go up that seemed to be of more than ordinary fashion, I
said to him, ‘Sir, pray don’t they give women leave to go up?’ ‘Yes, madam,’
says he, ‘and to play too, if they please.’ ‘I mean so, sir,’ said I. And
with that he said he would introduce me if I had a mind; so I followed him to
the door, and he looking in, ‘There, madam,’ says he, ‘are the
gamesters, if you have a mind to venture.’ I looked in and said to my comrade
aloud, ‘Here’s nothing but men; I won’t venture among them.’ At which one of
the gentlemen cried out, ‘You need not be afraid, madam, here’s none but fair
gamesters; you are very welcome to come and set what you please.’ so I went a
little nearer and looked on, and some of them brought me a chair, and I sat
down and saw the box and dice go round apace; then I said to my comrade, ‘The
gentlemen play too high for us; come, let us go.’
The people were all very
civil, and one gentleman in particular encouraged me, and said, ‘Come, madam,
if you please to venture, if you dare trust me, I’ll answer for it you shall
have nothing put upon you here.’ ‘No, sir,’ said I, smiling, ‘I hope the
gentlemen would not cheat a woman.’ But still I declined venturing, though I
pulled out a purse with money in it, that they might see I did not want money.
After I had sat a while,
one gentleman said to me, jeering, ‘Come, madam, I see you are afraid to
venture for yourself; I always had good luck with the ladies, you shall set for
me, if you won’t set for yourself.’ I told him, ‘sir, I should be very loth to
lose your money,’ though I added, ‘I am pretty lucky too; but the gentlemen
play so high, that I dare not indeed venture my own.’
‘Well, well,’ says he,
‘there’s ten
When I was come this
length, I offered the gentleman all the gold, for it was his own; and so would
have had him play for himself, pretending I did not understand the game well
enough. He laughed, and said if I had but good luck, it was no matter whether I
understood the game or no; but I should not leave off. However, he took out the
fifteen
I understood the game
well enough, though I pretended I did not, and played cautiously. It was to
keep a good stock in my lap, out of which I every now and then conveyed some
into my pocket, but in such a manner, and at such convenient times, as I was
sure he could not see it.
I played a great while,
and had very good luck for him; but the last time I held the box, they set me
high, and I threw boldly at all; I held the box till I gained near fourscore
Guineas, but lost above half of it back in the last throw; so I got up, for I
was afraid I should lose it all back again, and said to him, ‘Pray come, sir,
now, and take it and play for yourself; I think I have done pretty well for
you.’ He would have had me play on, but it grew late, and I desired to be
excused. When I gave it up to him, I told him I hoped he would give me leave to
tell it now, that I might see what I had gained, and how lucky I had been for
him; when I told them, there were threescore and three Guineas. Ay, says I,
‘if it had not been for that unlucky throw, I had got you a hundred
The rest of the
gentlemen seeing us striving cried, ‘Give it her all’; but I absolutely refused
that. Then one of them said, ‘D—n ye, jack, halve it with her; don’t you know
you should be always upon even terms with the ladies.’ So, in short, he divided
it with me, and I brought away 30 Guineas, besides about forty- three which I
had stole privately, which I was sorry for afterward, because he was so
generous.
Thus I brought home 73
Guineas, and let my old governess see what good luck I had at play. However, it
was her advice that I should not venture again, and I took her counsel, for I
never went there any more; for I knew as well as she, if the itch of play came
in, I might soon lose that, and all the rest of what I had got.
Fortune had smiled upon
me to that degree, and I had thriven so much, and my governess too, for she
always had a share with me, that really the old gentlewoman began to talk of
leaving off while we were well, and being satisfied with what we had got; but,
I know not what fate guided me, I was as backward to it now as she was when I
proposed it to her before, and so in an ill hour we gave over the thoughts of
it for the present, and, in a word, I grew more hardened and audacious than
ever, and the success I had made my name as famous as any thief of my sort ever
had been at Newgate, and in the Old-Bayly.
I had sometime taken the
liberty to play the same gave over again, which is not according to practice,
which however succeeded not amiss; but generally I took up new figures, and
contrived to appear in new shapes every time I went abroad.
It was not a rumbling
time of the year, and the gentlemen being most of them gone out of town, Tunbridge,
and Epsom, and such places were full of people. But the city was thin,
and I thought our trade felt it a little, as well as other; so that at the
latter end of the year I joined myself with a gang who usually go every year to
Sturbridge Fair, and from thence to Bury Fair, in Suffolk.
We promised ourselves great things there, but when I came to see how things
were, I was weary of it presently; for except mere picking of pockets, there
was little worth meddling with; neither, if a booty had been made, was it so
easy carrying it off, nor was there such a variety of occasion for business in
our way, as in London; all that I made of the whole journey was a gold
watch at Bury Fair, and a small parcel of linen at Cambridge, which gave
me an occasion to take leave of the place. It was on old bite, and I though
might do with a country shopkeeper, though in London it would not.
I bought at a
linen-draper’s shop, not in the fair, but in the town of Cambridge, as
much fine holland and other things as came to about seven pounds; when I had
done, I bade them be sent to such an inn, where I had purposely taken up my
being the same morning, as if I was to lodge there that night.
I ordered the draper to
send them home to me, about such an hour, to the inn where I lay, and I would
pay him his money. At the time appointed the draper sends the goods, and I
placed one of our gang at the chamber door, and when the innkeeper’s maid
brought the messenger to the door, who was a young fellow, an apprentice,
almost a man, she tells him her mistress was asleep, but if he would leave the
things and call in about an hour, I should be awake, and he might have the
money. He left the parcel very readily, and goes his way, and in about half an
hour my maid and I walked off, and that very evening I hired a horse, and a man
to ride before me, and went to Newmarket, and from thence got my passage
in a coach that was not quite full to St. Edmund’s Bury, where, as I
told you, I could make but little of my trade, only at a little country opera-house
made a shift to carry off a gold watch from a lady’s side, who was not only intolerably
merry, but, as I thought, a little fuddled, which made my work much easier.
I made off with this
little booty to Ipswich, and from thence to Harwich, where I went
into an inn, as if I had newly arrived from Holland, not doubting but I should
make some purchase among the foreigners that came on shore there; but I found
them generally empty of things of value, except what was in their portmanteaus
and Dutch hampers, which were generally guarded by footmen; however, I
fairly got one of their portmanteaus one evening out of the chamber where the
gentleman lay, the footman being fast asleep on the bed, and I suppose very
drunk.
The room in which I
lodged lay next to the Dutchman’s, and having dragged the heavy thing
with much ado out of the chamber into mine, I went out into the street, to see
if I could find any possibility of carrying it off. I walked about a great
while, but could see no probability either of getting out the thing, or of
conveying away the goods that were in it if I had opened it, the town being so
small, and I a perfect stranger in it; so I was returning with a resolution to
carry it back again, and leave it where I found it. Just in that very moment I
heard a man make a noise to some people to make haste, for the boat was going
to put off, and the tide would be spent. I called to the fellow, ‘What boat is
it, friend,’ says I, ‘that you belong to?’ ‘The Ipswich wherry,
madam,’ says he. ‘When do you go off?’ says I. ‘This moment,
madam,’ says he; ‘do you want to go thither?’ ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘if you can
stay till I fetch my things.’ ‘Where are your things, madam?’ says he.
‘At such an inn,’ said I. ‘Well, I’ll go with you, madam,’ says he,
very civilly, ‘and bring them for you.’ ‘Come away, then,’ says I, and
takes him with me.
The people of the inn
were in a great hurry, the packet-boat from Holland being just come in,
and two coaches just come also with passengers from London, for another
packet-boat that was going off for Holland, which coaches were to go
back next day with the passengers that were just landed. In this hurry it was
not much minded that I came to the bar and paid my reckoning, telling my
landlady I had gotten my passage by sea in a wherry.
These wherries are large
vessels, with good accommodation for carrying passengers from Harwich to
London; and though they are called wherries, which is a word used in the
Thames for a small boat rowed with one or two men, yet these are vessels
able to carry twenty passengers, and ten or fifteen tons of goods, and fitted
to bear the sea. All this I had found out by inquiring the night before into
the several ways of going to London.
My landlady was very
courteous, took my money for my reckoning, but was called away, all the house
being in a hurry. So I left her, took the fellow up to my chamber, gave him the
trunk, or portmanteau, for it was like a trunk, and wrapped it about with an
old apron, and he went directly to his boat with it, and I after him, nobody
asking us the least question about it; as for the drunken Dutch footman
he was still asleep, and his master with other foreign gentlemen at supper, and
very merry below, so I went clean off with it to Ipswich, and going in
the night, the people of the house knew nothing but that I was gone to London
by the Harwich wherry, as I had told my landlady.
I was plagued at Ipswich
with the custom-house officers, who stopped my trunk, as I called it,
and would open and search it. I was willing, I told them, they should search
it, but husband had the key, and he was not yet come from Harwich; this I
said, that if upon searching it they should find all the things be such as
properly belonged to a man rather than a woman, it should not seem strange to
them. However, they being positive to open the trunk I consented to have it be
broken open, that is to say, to have the lock taken off, which was not
difficult.
They found nothing for
their turn, for the trunk had been searched before, but they discovered several
things very much to my satisfaction, as particularly a parcel of money in French
pistols, and some Dutch Ducatoons or Rix-dollars, and the rest
was chiefly two periwigs, wearing-linen, and razors, wash-balls, perfumes, and
other useful things necessary for a gentleman, which all passed for my
husband’s, and so I was quit to them.
It was now very early in
the morning, and not light, and I knew not well what course to take; for I made
no doubt but I should be pursued in the morning, and perhaps be taken with the
things about me; so I resolved upon taking new measures. I went publicly to an
inn in the town with my trunk, as I called it, and having taken the
substance out, I did not think the lumber of it worth my concern; however, I
gave it the landlady of the house with a charge to take great care of it, and
lay it up safe till I should come again, and away I walked in to the street.
When I was got into the
town a great way from the inn, I met with an ancient woman who had just opened
her door, and I fell into chat with her, and asked her a great many wild
questions of things all remote to my purpose and design; but in my discourse I
found by her how the town was situated, that I was in a street that went out
towards Hadly, but that such a street went towards the water-side, such
a street towards Colchester, and so the London road lay there.
I had soon my ends of
this old woman, for I only wanted to know which was the London road, and
away I walked as fast as I could; not that I intended to go on foot, either to London
or to Colchester, but I wanted to get quietly away from Ipswich.
I walked about two or
three miles, and then I met a plain countryman, who was busy about some
husbandry work, I did not know what, and I asked him a great many questions
first, not much to the purpose, but at last told him I was going for London,
and the coach was full, and I could not get a passage, and asked him if he
could tell me where to hire a horse that would carry double, and an honest man
to ride before me to Colchester, so that I might get a place there in
the coaches. The honest clown looked earnestly at me, and said nothing for
above half a minute, when, scratching his poll, ‘A horse, say you and to Colchester,
to carry double? why yes, mistress, alack-a-day, you may have horses enough for
money.’ ‘Well, friend,’ says I, ‘that I take for granted; I don’t expect
it without money.’ ‘Why, but, mistress,’ says he, ‘how much are you
willing to give?’ ‘Nay,’ says I again, ‘friend, I don’t know what your rates
are in the country here, for I am a stranger; but if you can get one for me,
get it as cheap as you can, and I’ll give you somewhat for your pains.’
‘Why, that’s honestly
said too,’ says the countryman. ‘Not so honest, neither,’ said I to
myself, ‘if thou knewest all.’ ‘Why, mistress,’ says he, ‘I have
a horse that will carry double, and I don’t much care if I go myself with you,’
and the like. ‘Will you?’ says I; ‘well, I believe you are an
honest man; if you will, I shall be glad of it; I’ll pay you in reason.’ ‘Why,
look ye, mistress,’ says he, ‘I won’t be out of reason with you, then;
if I carry you to Colechester, it will be worth five shillings for
myself and my horse, for I shall hardly come back to-night.’
In short, I hired the
honest man and his horse; but when we came to a town upon the road (I do not
remember the name of it, but it stands upon a river), I pretended myself very
ill, and I could go no farther that night but if he would stay there with me,
because I was a stranger, I would pay him for himself and his horse with all my
heart.
This I did because I
knew the Dutch gentlemen and their servants would be upon the road that
day, either in the stagecoaches or riding post, and I did not know but the
drunken fellow, or somebody else that might have seen me at Harwich,
might see me again, and so I thought that in one day’s stop they would be all
gone by.
We lay all that night
there, and the next morning it was not very early when I set out, so that it
was near ten o’clock by the time I got to Colechester: It was no little
pleasure that I saw the town where I had so many pleasant days, and I made many
inquiries after the good old friends I had once had there, but could make
little out; they were all dead or removed. The young ladies had been all
married or gone to London; the old gentleman and the old lady that had
been my early benefactress all dead; and which troubled me most, the young
gentleman my first lover, and afterwards my brother-in-law, was dead; but two
sons, men grown, were left of him, but they too were transplanted to London.
I dismissed my old man
here, and stayed incognito for three or four days in Colechester, and
then took a passage in a Waggon, because I would not venture being seen in the Harwich
coaches. But I needed not have used so much caution, for there was nobody in Harwich
but the woman of the house could have known me; nor was it rational to think
that she, considering the hurry she was in, and that she never saw me but once,
and that by candlelight, should have ever discovered me.
I was now returned to London,
and though by the accident of the last adventure I got something considerable,
yet I was not fond of any more country rambles, nor should I have ventured
abroad again if I had carried the trade on to the end of my days. I gave my
governess a history of my travels; she liked the Harwich journey well
enough, and in discoursing of these things between ourselves she observed, that
a thief being a creature that watches the advantages of other people’s
mistakes, ’tis impossible but that to one that is vigilant and industrious many
opportunities must happen, and therefore she thought that one so exquisitely
keen in the trade as I was, would scarce fail of something extraordinary
wherever I went.
On the other hand, every
branch of my story, if duly considered, may be useful to honest people, and
afford a due caution to people of some sort or other to guard against the like
surprises, and to have their eyes about them when they have to do with
strangers of any kind, for ’tis very seldom that some snare or other is not in
their way. The moral, indeed, of all my history is left to be gathered by the
senses and judgment of the reader; I am not qualified to preach to them. Let
the experience of one creature completely wicked, and completely miserable, be
a storehouse of useful warning to those that read.
I am drawing now towards
a new variety of the scenes of life. Upon my return, being hardened by along
race of crime, and success unparalleled, at least in the reach of my own
knowledge, I had, as I have said, no thoughts of laying down a trade which, if
I was to judge by the example of other, must, however, end at last in misery
and sorrow.
It was on the Christmas
day following, in the evening, that, to finish a long train of wickedness,
I went abroad to see what might offer in my way; when going by a working
silversmith’s in Foster Lane, I saw a tempting bait indeed, and not be
resisted by one of my occupation, for the shop had nobody in it, as I could
see, and a great deal of loose plate lay in the window, and at the seat of the
man, who usually, as I suppose, worked at one side of the shop.
I went boldly in, and
was just going to lay my hand upon a piece of plate, and might have done it,
and carried it clear off, for any care that the men who belonged to the shop
had taken of it; but an officious fellow in a house, not a shop, on the other
side of the way, seeing me go in, and observing that there was nobody in the
shop, comes running over the street, and into the shop, and without asking me
what I was, or who, seizes upon me, an cries out for the people of the house.
I had not, as I said
above, touched anything in the shop, and seeing a glimpse of somebody running
over to the shop, I had so much presence of mind as to knock very hard with my
foot on the floor of the house, and was just calling out too, when the fellow
laid hands on me.
However, as I had always
most courage when I was in most danger, so when the fellow laid hands on me, I
stood very high upon it, that I came in to buy half a dozen of silver spoons;
and to my good fortune, it was a silversmith’s that sold plate, as well as
worked plate for other shops. The fellow laughed at that part, and put such a
value upon the service that he had done his Neighbour, that he would have it be
that I came not to buy, but to steal; and raising a great crowd. I said to the
master of the shop, who by this time was fetched home from some Neighbouring
place, that it was in vain to make noise, and enter into talk there of the
case; the fellow had insisted that I came to steal, and he must prove it, and I
desired we might go before a magistrate without any more words; for I began to
see I should be too hard for the man that had seized me.
The master and mistress
of the shop were really not so violent as the man from tother side of the way;
and the man said, ‘Mistress, you might come into the shop with a good design
for aught I know, but it seemed a dangerous thing for you to come into such a
shop as mine is, when you see nobody there; and I cannot do justice to my
Neighbour, who was so kind to me, as not to acknowledge he had reason on his
side; though, upon the whole, I do not find you attempted to take anything, and
I really know not what to do in it.’ I pressed him to go before a magistrate
with me, and if anything could be proved on me that was like a design of
robbery, I should willingly submit, but if not, I expected reparation.
Just while we were in
this debate, and a crowd of people gathered about the door, came by Sir T.
B., an alderman of the city, and justice of the peace, and the goldsmith
hearing of it, goes out, and entreated his worship to come in and decide the
case.
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