MOLL FLANDERS

BY
DANIEL DEFOE

1722
 Moll Flanders By Daniel Defoe.

This edition was created and published by Global Grey

©GlobalGrey 2017

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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
 1

CHAPTER 1

The Fortunes & Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders etc.

Who was Born in Newgate, and during a Life of continu'd Variety for
Threescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five
times a Wife (whereof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year a Thief,
Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv'd
Honest, and dies a Penitent. Written from her own Memorandums …

THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE

The world is so taken up of late with novels and romances, that it will be
hard for a private history to be taken for genuine, where the names and
other circumstances of the person are concealed, and on this account we
must be content to leave the reader to pass his own opinion upon the
ensuing sheet, and take it just as he pleases.

The author is here supposed to be writing her own history, and in the
very beginning of her account she gives the reasons why she thinks fit to
conceal her true name, after which there is no occasion to say any more
about that.

It is true that the original of this story is put into new words, and the
style of the famous lady we here speak of is a little altered; particularly
she is made to tell her own tale in modester words that she told it at first,
the copy which came first to hand having been written in language more
like one still in Newgate than one grown penitent and humble, as she
afterwards pretends to be.

The pen employed in finishing her story, and making it what you now see
it to be, has had no little difficulty to put it into a dress fit to be seen, and
to make it speak language fit to be read. When a woman debauched from
her youth, nay, even being the offspring of debauchery and vice, comes
to give an account of all her vicious practices, and even to descend to the
particular occasions and circumstances by which she ran through in
threescore years, an author must be hard put to it wrap it up so clean as
not to give room, especially for vicious readers, to turn it to his
disadvantage.
 2

All possible care, however, has been taken to give no lewd ideas, no
immodest turns in the new dressing up of this story; no, not to the worst
parts of her expressions. To this purpose some of the vicious part of her
life, which could not be modestly told, is quite left out, and several other
parts are very much shortened. What is left 'tis hoped will not offend the
chastest reader or the modest hearer; and as the best use is made even of
the worst story, the moral 'tis hoped will keep the reader serious, even
where the story might incline him to be otherwise. To give the history of
a wicked life repented of, necessarily requires that the wicked part
should be make as wicked as the real history of it will bear, to illustrate
and give a beauty to the penitent part, which is certainly the best and
brightest, if related with equal spirit and life.

It is suggested there cannot be the same life, the same brightness and
beauty, in relating the penitent part as is in the criminal part. If there is
any truth in that suggestion, I must be allowed to say 'tis because there is
not the same taste and relish in the reading, and indeed it is to true that
the difference lies not in the real worth of the subject so much as in the
gust and palate of the reader.

But as this work is chiefly recommended to those who know how to read
it, and how to make the good uses of it which the story all along
recommends to them, so it is to be hoped that such readers will be more
leased with the moral than the fable, with the application than with the
relation, and with the end of the writer than with the life of the person
written of.

There is in this story abundance of delightful incidents, and all of them

usefully applied. There is an agreeable turn artfully given them in the
relating, that naturally instructs the reader, either one way or other. The
first part of her lewd life with the young gentleman at Colchester has so
many happy turns given it to expose the crime, and warn all whose
circumstances are adapted to it, of the ruinous end of such things, and
the foolish, thoughtless, and abhorred conduct of both the parties, that it
abundantly atones for all the lively description she gives of her folly and
wickedness.

The repentance of her lover at the Bath, and how brought by the just
alarm of his fit of sickness to abandon her; the just caution given there
against even the lawful intimacies of the dearest friends, and how unable
 3

they are to preserve the most solemn resolutions of virtue without divine
assistance; these are parts which, to a just discernment, will appear to
have more real beauty in them all the amorous chain of story which
introduces it.

In a word, as the whole relation is carefully garbled of all the levity and
looseness that was in it, so it all applied, and with the utmost care, to
virtuous and religious uses. None can, without being guilty of manifest
injustice, cast any reproach upon it, or upon our design in publishing it.

The advocates for the stage have, in all ages, made this the great
argument to persuade people that their plays are useful, and that they
ought to be allowed in the most civilised and in the most religious
government; namely, that they are applied to virtuous purposes, and that
by the most lively representations, they fail not to recommend virtue and
generous principles, and to discourage and expose all sorts of vice and
corruption of manners; and were it true that they did so, and that they
constantly adhered to that rule, as the test of their acting on the theatre,
much might be said in their favour.

Throughout the infinite variety of this book, this fundamental is most

strictly adhered to; there is not a wicked action in any part of it, but is
first and last rendered unhappy and unfortunate; there is not a
superlative villain brought upon the stage, but either he is brought to an
unhappy end, or brought to be a penitent; there is not an ill thing
mentioned but it is condemned, even in the relation, nor a virtuous, just
thing but it carries its praise along with it. What can more exactly answer
the rule laid down, to recommend even those representations of things
which have so many other just objections leaving against them? namely,
of example, of bad company, obscene language, and the like.

Upon this foundation this book is recommended to the reader as a work

from every part of which something may be learned, and some just and
religious inference is drawn, by which the reader will have something of
instruction, if he pleases to make use of it.

All the exploits of this lady of fame, in her depredations upon mankind,
stand as so many warnings to honest people to beware of them,
intimating to them by what methods innocent people are drawn in,
plundered and robbed, and by consequence how to avoid them. Her
 4

robbing a little innocent child, dressed fine by the vanity of the mother,
to go to the dancing-school, is a good memento to such people hereafter,
as is likewise her picking the gold watch from the young lady's side in the
Park.

Her getting a parcel from a hare-brained wench at the coaches in St.

John Street; her booty made at the fire, and again at Harwich, all give us
excellent warnings in such cases to be more present to ourselves in
sudden surprises of every sort.

Her application to a sober life and industrious management at last in

Virginia, with her transported spouse, is a story fruitful of instruction to
all the unfortunate creatures who are obliged to seek their re-
establishment abroad, whether by the misery of transportation or other
disaster; letting them know that diligence and application have their due
encouragement, even in the remotest parts of the world, and that no case
can be so low, so despicable, or so empty of prospect, but that an
unwearied industry will go a great way to deliver us from it, will in time
raise the meanest creature to appear again the world, and give him a new
case for his life.

There are a few of the serious inferences which we are led by the hand to
in this book, and these are fully sufficient to justify any man in
recommending it to the world, and much more to justify the publication
of it.

There are two of the most beautiful parts still behind, which this story
gives some idea of, and lets us into the parts of them, but they are either
of them too long to be brought into the same volume, and indeed are, as
I may call them, whole volumes of themselves, viz.: 1. The life of her
governess, as she calls her, who had run through, it seems, in a few years,
all the eminent degrees of a gentlewoman, a whore, and a bawd; a
midwife and a midwife-keeper, as they are called; a pawnbroker, a
childtaker, a receiver of thieves, and of thieves' purchase, that is to say, of
stolen goods; and in a word, herself a thief, a breeder up of thieves and
the like, and yet at last a penitent.

The second is the life of her transported husband, a highwayman, who it

seems, lived a twelve years' life of successful villainy upon the road, and
 5

even at last came off so well as to be a volunteer transport, not a convict;

and in whose life there is an incredible variety.

But, as I have said, these are things too long to bring in here, so neither
can I make a promise of the coming out by themselves.

We cannot say, indeed, that this history is carried on quite to the end of
the life of this famous Moll Flanders, as she calls herself, for nobody can
write their own life to the full end of it, unless they can write it after they
are dead. But her husband's life, being written by a third hand, gives a
full account of them both, how long they lived together in that country,
and how they both came to England again, after about eight years, in
which time they were grown very rich, and where she lived, it seems, to
be very old, but was not so extraordinary a penitent as she was at first; it
seems only that indeed she always spoke with abhorrence of her former
life, and of every part of it.

In her last scene, at Maryland and Virginia, many pleasant things

happened, which makes that part of her life very agreeable, but they are
not told with the same elegancy as those accounted for by herself; so it is
still to the more advantage that we break off here.
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CHAPTER 2

My true name is so well known in the records or registers at Newgate,

and in the Old Bailey, and there are some things of such consequence
still depending there, relating to my particular conduct, that it is not be
expected I should set my name or the account of my family to this work;
perhaps, after my death, it may be better known; at present it would not
be proper, no not though a general pardon should be issued, even
without exceptions and reserve of persons or crimes.

It is enough to tell you, that as some of my worst comrades, who are out
of the way of doing me harm (having gone out of the world by the steps
and the string, as I often expected to go ), knew me by the name of Moll
Flanders, so you may give me leave to speak of myself under that name
till I dare own who I have been, as well as who I am.

I have been told that in one of neighbour nations, whether it be in France

or where else I know not, they have an order from the king, that when
any criminal is condemned, either to die, or to the galleys, or to be
transported, if they leave any children, as such are generally unprovided
for, by the poverty or forfeiture of their parents, so they are immediately
taken into the care of the Government, and put into a hospital called the
House of Orphans, where they are bred up, clothed, fed, taught, and
when fit to go out, are placed out to trades or to services, so as to be well
able to provide for themselves by an honest, industrious behaviour.

Had this been the custom in our country, I had not been left a poor
desolate girl without friends, without clothes, without help or help er in
the world, as was my fate; and by which I was not only exposed to very
great distresses, even before I was capable either of understanding my
case or how to amend it, but brought into a course of life which was not
only scandalous in itself, but which in its ordinary course tended to the
swift destruction both of soul and body.

But the case was otherwise here. My mother was convicted of felony for a
certain petty theft scarce worth naming, viz. having an opportunity of
borrowing three pieces of fine holland of a certain draper in Cheapside.
 7

The circumstances are too long to repeat, and I have heard them related
so many ways, that I can scarce be certain which is the right account.

However it was, this they all agree in, that my mother pleaded her belly,
and being found quick with child, she was respited for about seven
months; in which time having brought me into the world, and being
about again, she was called down, as they term it, to her former
judgment, but obtained the favour of being transported to the
plantations, and left me about half a year old; and in bad hands, you may
be sure.

This is too near the first hours of my life for me to relate anything of
myself but by hearsay; it is enough to mention, that as I was born in such
an unhappy place, I had no parish to have recourse to for my
nourishment in my infancy; nor can I give the least account how I was
kept alive, other than that, as I have been told, some relation of my
mother's took me away for a while as a nurse, but at whose expense, or
by whose direction, I know nothing at all of it.

The first account that I can recollect, or could ever learn of myself, was
that I had wandered among a crew of those people they call gypsies, or
Egyptians; but I believe it was but a very little while that I had been
among them, for I had not had my skin discoloured or blackened, as they
do very young to all the children they carry about with them; nor can I
tell how I came among them, or how I got from them.

It was at Colchester, in Essex, that those people left me; and I have a
notion in my head that I left them there (that is, that I hid myself and
would not go any farther with them), but I am not able to be particular in
that account; only this I remember, that being taken up by some of the
parish officers of Colchester, I gave an account that I came into the town
with the gypsies, but that I would not go any farther with them, and that
so they had left me, but whither they were gone that I knew not, nor
could they expect it of me; for though they send round the country to
inquire after them, it seems they could not be found.

I was now in a way to be provided for; for though I was not a parish
charge upon this or that part of the town by law, yet as my case came to
be known, and that I was too young to do any work, being not above
three years old, compassion moved the magistrates of the town to order
 8

some care to be taken of me, and I became one of their own as much as if
I had been born in the place.

In the provision they made for me, it was my good hap to be put to
nurse, as they call it, to a woman who was indeed poor but had been in
better circumstances, and who got a little livelihood by taking such as I
was supposed to be, and keeping them with all necessaries, till they were
at a certain age, in which it might be supposed they might go to service
or get their own bread.

This woman had also had a little school, which she kept to teach children
to read and to work; and having, as I have said, lived before that in good
fashion, she bred up the children she took with a great deal of art, as well
as with a great deal of care.

But that which was worth all the rest, she bred them up very religiously,
being herself a very sober, pious woman, very house wifely and clean,
and very mannerly, and with good behaviour. So that in a word,
expecting a plain diet, coarse lodging, and mean clothes, we were
brought up as mannerly and as genteelly as if we had been at the
dancing-school.

I was continued here till I was eight years old, when I was terrified with
news that the magistrates (as I think they called them) had ordered that I
should go to service. I was able to do but very little service wherever I
was to go, except it was to run of errands and be a drudge to some
cookmaid, and this they told me of often, which put me into a great
fright; for I had a thorough aversion to going to service, as they called it
(that is, to be a servant), though I was so young; and I told my nurse, as
we called her, that I believed I could get my living without going to
service, if she pleased to let me; for she had taught me to work with my
needle, and spin worsted, which is the chief trade of that city, and I told
her that if she would keep me, I would work for her, and I would work
very hard.

I talked to her almost every day of working hard; and, in short, I did
nothing but work and cry all day, which grieved the good, kind woman so
much, that at last she began to be concerned for me, for she loved me
very well.
 9

One day after this, as she came into the room where all we poor children
were at work, she sat down just over against me, not in her usual place as
mistress, but as if she set herself on purpose to observe me and see me
work. I was doing something she had set me to; as I remember, it was
marking some shirts which she had taken to make, and after a while she
began to talk to me. 'Thou foolish child,' says she, 'thou art always crying
(for I was crying then); 'prithee, what dost cry for?' 'Because they will
take me away,' says I, 'and put me to service, and I can't work
housework.' 'Well, child,' says she, 'but though you can't work
housework, as you call it, you will learn it in time, and they won't put you
to hard things at first.' 'Yes, they will,' says I, 'and if I can't do it they will
beat me, and the maids will beat me to make me do great work, and I am
but a little girl and I can't do it'; and then I cried again, till I could not
speak any more to her.

This moved my good motherly nurse, so that she from that time resolved
I should not go to service yet; so she bid me not cry, and she would speak
to Mr. Mayor, and I should not go to service till I was bigger.

Well, this did not satisfy me, for to think of going to service was such a
frightful thing to me, that if she had assured me I should not have gone
till I was twenty years old, it would have been the same to me; I should
have cried, I believe, all the time, with the very apprehension of its being
to be so at last.

When she saw that I was not pacified yet, she began to be angry with me.
'And what would you have?' says she; 'don't I tell you that you shall not
go to service till your are bigger?' 'Ay,' said I, 'but then I must go at last.'
'Why, what?' said she; 'is the girl mad? What would you be -a
gentlewoman?' 'Yes,' says I, and cried heartily till I roard out again.

This set the old gentlewoman a-laughing at me, as you may be sure it
would. 'Well, madam, forsooth,' says she, gibing at me, 'you would be a
gentlewoman; and pray how will you come to be a gentlewoman? What!
will you do it by your fingers' end?'

'Yes,' says I again, very innocently.

'Why, what can you earn?' says she; 'what can you get at your work?'
 10

'Threepence,' said I, 'when I spin, and fourpence when I work plain

work.'

'Alas! poor gentlewoman,' said she again, laughing, 'what will that do for
thee?'

'It will keep me,' says I, 'if you will let me live with you.' And this I said in
such a poor petitioning tone, that it made the poor woman's heart yearn
to me, as she told me afterwards.

'But,' says she, 'that will not keep you and buy you clothes too; and who
must buy the little gentlewoman clothes?' says she, and smiled all the
while at me.

'I will work harder, then,' says I, 'and you shall have it all.'

'Poor child! it won't keep you,' says she; 'it will hardly keep you in
victuals.'

'Then I will have no victuals,' says I, again very innocently; 'let me but
live with you.'

'Why, can you live without victuals?' says she.

'Yes,' again says I, very much like a child, you may be sure, and still I
cried heartily.

I had no policy in all this; you may easily see it was all nature; but it was
joined with so much innocence and so much passion that, in short, it set
the good motherly creature a-weeping too, and she cried at last as fast as
I did, and then took me and led me out of the teaching-room. 'Come,'
says she, 'you shan't go to service; you shall live with me'; and this
pacified me for the present.

Some time after this, she going to wait on the Mayor, and talking of such
things as belonged to her business, at last my story came up, and my
good nurse told Mr. Mayor the whole tale. He was so pleased with it, that
he would call his lady and his two daughters to hear it, and it made mirth
enough among them, you may be sure.

However, not a week had passed over, but on a sudden comes Mrs.
Mayoress and her two daughters to the house to see my old nurse, and to
see her school and the children. When they had looked about them a
 11

little, 'Well, Mrs.----,' says the Mayoress to my nurse, 'and pray which is
the little lass that intends to be a gentlewoman?' I heard her, and I was
terribly frighted at first, though I did not know why neither; but Mrs.
Mayoress comes up to me. 'Well, miss,' says she, 'and what are you at
work upon?' The word miss was a language that had hardly been heard
of in our school, and I wondered what sad name it was she called me.
However, I stood up, made a curtsy, and she took my work out of my
hand, looked on it, and said it was very well; then she took up one of the
hands. 'Nay,' says she, 'the child may come to be a gentlewoman for
aught anybody knows; she has a gentlewoman's hand,' says she. This
pleased me mightily, you may be sure; but Mrs. Mayoress did not stop
there, but giving me my work again, she put her hand in her pocket, gave
me a shilling, and bid me mind my work, and learn to work well, and I
might be a gentlewoman for aught she knew.

Now all this while my good old nurse, Mrs. Mayoress, and all the rest of
them did not understand me at all, for they meant one sort of thing by
the word gentlewoman, and I meant quite another; for alas! all I
understood by being a gentlewoman was to be able to work for myself,
and get enough to keep me without that terrible bugbear going to service,
whereas they meant to live great, rich and high, and I know not what.

Well, after Mrs. Mayoress was gone, her two daughters came in, and they
called for the gentlewoman too, and they talked a long while to me, and I
answered them in my innocent way; but always, if they asked me
whether I resolved to be a gentlewoman, I answered Yes. At last one of
them asked me what a gentlewoman was? That puzzled me much; but,
however, I explained myself negatively, that it was one that did not go to
service, to do housework. They were pleased to be familiar with me, and
like my little prattle to them, which, it seems, was agreeable enough to
them, and they gave me money too.

As for my money, I gave it all to my mistress-nurse, as I called her, and

told her she should have all I got for myself when I was a gentlewoman,
as well as now. By this and some other of my talk, my old tutoress began
to understand me about what I meant by being a gentlewoman, and that
I understood by it no more than to be able to get my bread by my own
work; and at last she asked me whether it was not so.
 12

I told her, yes, and insisted on it, that to do so was to be a gentlewoman;

'for,' says I, 'there is such a one,' naming a woman that mended lace and
washed the ladies' laced-heads; 'she,' says I, 'is a gentlewoman, and they
call her madam.'

"Poor child,' says my good old nurse, 'you may soon be such a
gentlewoman as that, for she is a person of ill fame, and has had two or
three bastards.'

I did not understand anything of that; but I answered, 'I am sure they
call her madam, and she does not go to service nor do housework'; and
therefore I insisted that she was a gentlewoman, and I would be such a
gentlewoman as that.

The ladies were told all this again, to be sure, and they made themselves
merry with it, and every now and then the young ladies, Mr. Mayor's
daughters, would come and see me, and ask where the little
gentlewoman was, which made me not a little proud of myself.

This held a great while, and I was often visited by these young ladies, and
sometimes they brought others with them; so that I was known by it
almost all over the town.

I was now about ten years old, and began to look a little womanish, for I
was mighty grave and humble, very mannerly, and as I had often heard
the ladies say I was pretty, and would be a very handsome woman, so
you may be sure that hearing them say so made me not a little proud.
However, that pride had no ill effect upon me yet; only, as they often
gave me money, and I gave it to my old nurse, she, honest woman, was
so just to me as to lay it all out again for me, and gave me head-dresses,
and linen, and gloves, and ribbons, and I went very neat, and always
clean; for that I would do, and if I had rags on, I would always be clean,
or else I would dabble them in water myself; but, I say, my good nurse,
when I had money given me, very honestly laid it out for me, and would
always tell the ladies this or that was bought with their money; and this
made them oftentimes give me more, till at last I was indeed called upon
by the magistrates, as I understood it, to go out to service; but then I was
come to be so good a workwoman myself, and the ladies were so kind to
me, that it was plain I could maintain myself--that is to say, I could earn
as much for my nurse as she was able by it to keep me--so she told them
 13

that if they would give her leave, she would keep the gentlewoman, as
she called me, to be her assistant and teach the children, which I was
very well able to do; for I was very nimble at my work, and had a good
hand with my needle, though I was yet very young.

But the kindness of the ladies of the town did not end here, for when they
came to understand that I was no more maintained by the public
allowance as before, they gave me money oftener than formerly; and as I
grew up they brought me work to do for them, such as linen to make, and
laces to mend, and heads to dress up, and not only paid me for doing
them, but even taught me how to do them; so that now I was a
gentlewoman indeed, as I understood that word, I not only found myself
clothes and paid my nurse for my keeping, but got money in my pocket
too beforehand.

The ladies also gave me clothes frequently of their own or their

children's; some stockings, some petticoats, some gowns, some one
thing, some another, and these my old woman managed for me like a
mere mother, and kept them for me, obliged me to mend them, and turn
them and twist them to the best advantage, for she was a rare housewife.

At last one of the ladies took so much fancy to me that she would have
me home to her house, for a month, she said, to be among her daughters.

Now, though this was exceeding kind in her, yet, as my old good woman
said to her, unless she resolved to keep me for good and all, she would do
the little gentlewoman more harm than good. 'Well,' says the lady, 'that's
true; and therefore I'll only take her home for a week, then, that I may
see how my daughters and she agree together, and how I like her temper,
and then I'll tell you more; and in the meantime, if anybody comes to see
her as they used to do, you may only tell them you have sent her out to
my house.'

This was prudently managed enough, and I went to the lady's house; but
I was so pleased there with the young ladies, and they so pleased with
me, that I had enough to do to come away, and they were as unwilling to
part with me.

However, I did come away, and lived almost a year more with my honest
old woman, and began now to be very helpful to her; for I was almost
fourteen years old, was tall of my age, and looked a little womanish; but I
 14

had such a taste of genteel living at the lady's house that I was not so
easy in my old quarters as I used to be, and I thought it was fine to be a
gentlewoman indeed, for I had quite other notions of a gentlewoman
now than I had before; and as I thought, I say, that it was fine to be a
gentlewoman, so I loved to be among gentlewomen, and therefore I
longed to be there again.

About the time that I was fourteen years and a quarter old, my good
nurse, mother I rather to call her, fell sick and died. I was then in a sad
condition indeed, for as there is no great bustle in putting an end to a
poor body's family when once they are carried to the grave, so the poor
good woman being buried, the parish children she kept were
immediately removed by the church-wardens; the school was at an end,
and the children of it had no more to do but just stay at home till they
were sent somewhere else; and as for what she left, her daughter, a
married woman with six or seven children, came and swept it all away at
once, and removing the goods, they had no more to say to me than to jest
with me, and tell me that the little gentlewoman might set up for herself
if she pleased.

I was frighted out of my wits almost, and knew not what to do, for I was,
as it were, turned out of doors to the wide world, and that which was still
worse, the old honest woman had two-and twenty shillings of mine in
her hand, which was all the estate the little gentlewoman had in the
world; and when I asked the daughter for it, she huffed me and laughed
at me, and told me she had nothing to do with it.

It was true the good, poor woman had told her daughter of it, and that it
lay in such a place, that it was the child's money, and had called once or
twice for me to give it me, but I was, unhappily, out of the way
somewhere or other, and when I came back she was past being in a
condition to speak of it. However, the daughter was so honest afterwards
as to give it me, though at first she used me cruelly about it.

Now was I a poor gentlewoman indeed, and I was just that very night to
be turned into the wide world; for the daughter removed all the goods,
and I had not so much as a lodging to go to, or a bit of bread to eat. But it
seems some of the neighbours, who had known my circumstances, took
so much compassion of me as to acquaint the lady in whose family I had
been a week, as I mentioned above; and immediately she sent her maid
 15

to fetch me away, and two of her daughters came with the maid though
unsent. So I went with them, bag and baggage, and with a glad heart, you
may be sure. The fright of my condition had made such an impression
upon me, that I did not want now to be a gentlewoman, but was very
willing to be a servant, and that any kind of servant they thought fit to
have me be.

But my new generous mistress, for she exceeded the good woman I was
with before, in everything, as well as in the matter of estate; I say, in
everything except honesty; and for that, though this was a lady most
exactly just, yet I must not forget to say on all occasions, that the first,
though poor, was as uprightly honest as it was possible for any one to be.

I was no sooner carried away, as I have said, by this good gentlewoman,

but the first lady, that is to say, the Mayoress that was, sent her two
daughters to take care of me; and another family which had taken notice
of me when I was the little gentlewoman, and had given me work to do,
sent for me after her, so that I was mightily made of, as we say; nay, and
they were not a little angry, especially madam the Mayoress, that her
friend had taken me away from her, as she called it; for, as she said, I
was hers by right, she having been the first that took any notice of me.
But they that had me would not part with me; and as for me, though I
should have been very well treated with any of the others, yet I could not
be better than where I was.

Here I continued till I was between seventeen and eighteen years old,
and here I had all the advantages for my education that could be
imagined; the lady had masters home to the house to teach her
daughters to dance, and to speak French, and to write, and other to teach
them music; and I was always with them, I learned as fast as they; and
though the masters were not appointed to teach me, yet I learned by
imitation and inquiry all that they learned by instruction and direction;
so that, in short, I learned to dance and speak French as well as any of
them, and to sing much better, for I had a better voice than any of them.
I could not so readily come at playing on the harpsichord or spinet,
because I had no instrument of my own to practice on, and could only
come at theirs in the intervals when they left it, which was uncertain; but
yet I learned tolerably well too, and the young ladies at length got two
instruments, that is to say, a harpsichord and a spinet too, and then they
 16

taught me themselves. But as to dancing, they could hardly help my

learning country-dances, because they always wanted me to make up
even number; and, on the other hand, they were as heartily willing to
learn me everything that they had been taught themselves, as I could be
to take the learning.

By this means I had, as I have said above, all the advantages of education
that I could have had if I had been as much a gentlewoman as they were
with whom I lived; and in some things I had the advantage of my ladies,
though they were my superiors; but they were all the gifts of nature, and
which all their fortunes could not furnish. First, I was apparently
handsomer than any of them; secondly, I was better shaped; and, thirdly,
I sang better, by which I mean I had a better voice; in all which you will, I
hope, allow me to say, I do not speak my own conceit of myself, but the
opinion of all that knew the family.

I had with all these the common vanity of my sex, viz. that being really
taken for very handsome, or, if you please, for a great beauty, I very well
knew it, and had as good an opinion of myself as anybody else could have
of me; and particularly I loved to hear anybody speak of it, which could
not but happen to me sometimes, and was a great satisfaction to me.

Thus far I have had a smooth story to tell of myself, and in all this part of
my life I not only had the reputation of living in a very good family, and a
family noted and respected everywhere for virtue and sobriety, and for
every valuable thing; but I had the character too of a very sober, modest,
and virtuous young woman, and such I had always been; neither had I
yet any occasion to think of anything else, or to know what a temptation
to wickedness meant.

But that which I was too vain of was my ruin, or rather my vanity was the
cause of it. The lady in the house where I was had two sons, young
gentlemen of very promising parts and of extraordinary behaviour, and it
was my misfortune to be very well with them both, but they managed
themselves with me in a quite different manner.

The eldest, a gay gentleman that knew the town as well as the country,
and though he had levity enough to do an ill-natured thing, yet had too
much judgment of things to pay too dear for his pleasures; he began with
the unhappy snare to all women, viz. taking notice upon all occasions
 17

how pretty I was, as he called it, how agreeable, how well-carriaged, and
the like; and this he contrived so subtly, as if he had known as well how
to catch a woman in his net as a partridge when he went a-setting; for he
would contrive to be talking this to his sisters when, though I was not by,
yet when he knew I was not far off but that I should be sure to hear him.
His sisters would return softly to him, 'Hush, brother, she will hear you;
she is but in the next room.' Then he would put it off and talk softlier, as
if he had not know it, and begin to acknowledge he was wrong; and then,
as if he had forgot himself, he would speak aloud again, and I, that was
so well pleased to hear it, was sure to listen for it upon all occasions.

After he had thus baited his hook, and found easily enough the method
how to lay it in my way, he played an opener game; and one day, going
by his sister's chamber when I was there, doing something about
dressing her, he comes in with an air of gaiety. 'Oh, Mrs. Betty,' said he
to me, 'how do you do, Mrs. Betty? Don't your cheeks burn, Mrs. Betty?' I
made a curtsy and blushed, but said nothing. 'What makes you talk so,
brother?' says the lady. 'Why,' says he, 'we have been talking of her
below-stairs this half-hour.' 'Well,' says his sister, 'you can say no harm
of her, that I am sure, so 'tis no matter what you have been talking
about.' 'Nay,' says he, ''tis so far from talking harm of her, that we have
been talking a great deal of good, and a great many fine things have been
said of Mrs. Betty, I assure you; and particularly, that she is the
handsomest young woman in Colchester; and, in short, they begin to
toast her health in the town.'

'I wonder at you, brother,' says the sister. Betty wants but one thing, but
she had as good want everything, for the market is against our sex just
now; and if a young woman have beauty, birth, breeding, wit, sense,
manners, modesty, and all these to an extreme, yet if she have not
money, she's nobody, she had as good want them all for nothing but
money now recommends a woman; the men play the game all into their
own hands.'

Her younger brother, who was by, cried, 'Hold, sister, you run too fast; I
am an exception to your rule. I assure you, if I find a woman so
accomplished as you talk of, I say, I assure you, I would not trouble
myself about the money.'
 18

'Oh,' says the sister, 'but you will take care not to fancy one, then,
without the money.'

'You don't know that neither,' says the brother.

'But why, sister,' says the elder brother, 'why do you exclaim so at the
men for aiming so much at the fortune? You are none of them that want
a fortune, whatever else you want.'

'I understand you, brother,' replies the lady very smartly; 'you suppose I
have the money, and want the beauty; but as times go now, the first will
do without the last, so I have the better of my neighbours.'

'Well,' says the younger brother, 'but your neighbours, as you call them,
may be even with you, for beauty will steal a husband sometimes in spite
of money, and when the maid chances to be handsomer than the
mistress, she oftentimes makes as good a market, and rides in a coach
before her.'

I thought it was time for me to withdraw and leave them, and I did so,
but not so far but that I heard all their discourse, in which I heard
abundance of the fine things said of myself, which served to prompt my
vanity, but, as I soon found, was not the way to increase my interest in
the family, for the sister and the younger brother fell grievously out
about it; and as he said some very disobliging things to her upon my
account, so I could easily see that she resented them by her future
conduct to me, which indeed was very unjust to me, for I had never had
the least thought of what she suspected as to her younger brother;
indeed, the elder brother, in his distant, remote way, had said a great
many things as in jest, which I had the folly to believe were in earnest, or
to flatter myself with the hopes of what I ought to have supposed he
never intended, and perhaps never thought of.

It happened one day that he came running upstairs, towards the room
where his sisters used to sit and work, as he often used to do; and calling
to them before he came in, as was his way too, I, being there alone,
stepped to the door, and said, 'Sir, the ladies are not here, they are
walked down the garden.' As I stepped forward to say this, towards the
door, he was just got to the door, and clasping me in his arms, as if it had
been by chance, 'Oh, Mrs. Betty,' says he, 'are you here? That's better
 19

still; I want to speak with you more than I do with them'; and then,
having me in his arms, he kissed me three or four times.

I struggled to get away, and yet did it but faintly neither, and he held me
fast, and still kissed me, till he was almost out of breath, and then, sitting
down, says, 'Dear Betty, I am in love with you.'

His words, I must confess, fired my blood; all my spirits flew about my
heart and put me into disorder enough, which he might easily have seen
in my face. He repeated it afterwards several times, that he was in love
with me, and my heart spoke as plain as a voice, that I liked it; nay,
whenever he said, 'I am in love with you,' my blushes plainly replied,
'Would you were, sir.'

However, nothing else passed at that time; it was but a surprise, and
when he was gone I soon recovered myself again. He had stayed longer
with me, but he happened to look out at the window and see his sisters
coming up the garden, so he took his leave, kissed me again, told me he
was very serious, and I should hear more of him very quickly, and away
he went, leaving me infinitely pleased, though surprised; and had there
not been one misfortune in it, I had been in the right, but the mistake lay
here, that Mrs. Betty was in earnest and the gentleman was not.

From this time my head ran upon strange things, and I may truly say I
was not myself; to have such a gentleman talk to me of being in love with
me, and of my being such a charming creature, as he told me I was; these
were things I knew not how to bear, my vanity was elevated to the last
degree. It is true I had my head full of pride, but, knowing nothing of the
wickedness of the times, I had not one thought of my own safety or of my
virtue about me; and had my young master offered it at first sight, he
might have taken any liberty he thought fit with me; but he did not see
his advantage, which was my happiness for that time.

After this attack it was not long but he found an opportunity to catch me
again, and almost in the same posture; indeed, it had more of design in it
on his part, though not on my part. It was thus: the young ladies were all
gone a-visiting with their mother; his brother was out of town; and as for
his father, he had been in London for a week before. He had so well
watched me that he knew where I was, though I did not so much as know
that he was in the house; and he briskly comes up the stairs and, seeing
 20

me at work, comes into the room to me directly, and began just as he did
before, with taking me in his arms, and kissing me for almost a quarter
of an hour together.

It was his younger sister's chamber that I was in, and as there was
nobody in the house but the maids below-stairs, he was, it may be, the
ruder; in short, he began to be in earnest with me indeed. Perhaps he
found me a little too easy, for God knows I made no resistance to him
while he only held me in his arms and kissed me; indeed, I was too well
pleased with it to resist him much.

However, as it were, tired with that kind of work, we sat down, and there
he talked with me a great while; he said he was charmed with me, and
that he could not rest night or day till he had told me how he was in love
with me, and, if I was able to love him again, and would make him
happy, I should be the saving of his life, and many such fine things. I said
little to him again, but easily discovered that I was a fool, and that I did
not in the least perceive what he meant.

Then he walked about the room, and taking me by the hand, I walked
with him; and by and by, taking his advantage, he threw me down upon
the bed, and kissed me there most violently; but, to give him his due,
offered no manner of rudeness to me, only kissed a great while. After this
he thought he had heard somebody come upstairs, so got off from the
bed, lifted me up, professing a great deal of love for me, but told me it
was all an honest affection, and that he meant no ill to me; and with that
he put five guineas into my hand, and went away downstairs.

I was more confounded with the money than I was before with the love,
and began to be so elevated that I scarce knew the ground I stood on. I
am the more particular in this part, that if my story comes to be read by
any innocent young body, they may learn from it to guard themselves
against the mischiefs which attend an early knowledge of their own
beauty. If a young woman once thinks herself handsome, she never
doubts the truth of any man that tells her he is in love with her; for if she
believes herself charming enough to captivate him, 'tis natural to expect
the effects of it.

This young gentleman had fired his inclination as much as he had my

vanity, and, as if he had found that he had an opportunity and was sorry
 21

he did not take hold of it, he comes up again in half an hour or

thereabouts, and falls to work with me again as before, only with a little
less introduction.

And first, when he entered the room, he turned about and shut the door.
'Mrs. Betty,' said he, 'I fancied before somebody was coming upstairs, but
it was not so; however,' adds he, 'if they find me in the room with you,
they shan't catch me a-kissing of you.' I told him I did not know who
should be coming upstairs, for I believed there was nobody in the house
but the cook and the other maid, and they never came up those stairs.
'Well, my dear,' says he, ''tis good to be sure, however'; and so he sits
down, and we began to talk. And now, though I was still all on fire with
his first visit, and said little, he did as it were put words in my mouth,
telling me how passionately he loved me, and that though he could not
mention such a thing till he came to this estate, yet he was resolved to
make me happy then, and himself too; that is to say, to marry me, and
abundance of such fine things, which I, poor fool, did not understand the
drift of, but acted as if there was no such thing as any kind of love but
that which tended to matrimony; and if he had spoke of that, I had no
room, as well as no power, to have said no; but we were not come that
length yet.

We had not sat long, but he got up, and, stopping my very breath with
kisses, threw me upon the bed again; but then being both well warmed,
he went farther with me than decency permits me to mention, nor had it
been in my power to have denied him at that moment, had he offered
much more than he did.

However, though he took these freedoms with me, it did not go to that
which they call the last favour, which, to do him justice, he did not
attempt; and he made that self-denial of his a plea for all his freedoms
with me upon other occasions after this. When this was over, he stayed
but a little while, but he put almost a handful of gold in my hand, and left
me, making a thousand protestations of his passion for me, and of his
loving me above all the women in the world.

It will not be strange if I now began to think, but alas! it was but with
very little solid reflection. I had a most unbounded stock of vanity and
pride, and but a very little stock of virtue. I did indeed case sometimes
with myself what young master aimed at, but thought of nothing but the
 22

fine words and the gold; whether he intended to marry me, or not to
marry me, seemed a matter of no great consequence to me; nor did my
thoughts so much as suggest to me the necessity of making any
capitulation for myself, till he came to make a kind of formal proposal to
me, as you shall hear presently.

Thus I gave up myself to a readiness of being ruined without the least

concern and am a fair memento to all young women whose vanity
prevails over their virtue. Nothing was ever so stupid on both sides. Had
I acted as became me, and resisted as virtue and honour require, this
gentleman had either desisted his attacks, finding no room to expect the
accomplishment of his design, or had made fair and honourable
proposals of marriage; in which case, whoever had blamed him, nobody
could have blamed me. In short, if he had known me, and how easy the
trifle he aimed at was to be had, he would have troubled his head no
farther, but have given me four or five guineas, and have lain with me the
next time he had come at me. And if I had known his thoughts, and how
hard he thought I would be to be gained, I might have made my own
terms with him; and if I had not capitulated for an immediate marriage, I
might for a maintenance till marriage, and might have had what I would;
for he was already rich to excess, besides what he had in expectation; but
I seemed wholly to have abandoned all such thoughts as these, and was
taken up only with the pride of my beauty, and of being beloved by such
a gentleman. As for the gold, I spent whole hours in looking upon it; I
told the guineas over and over a thousand times a day. Never poor vain
creature was so wrapt up with every part of the story as I was, not
considering what was before me, and how near my ruin was at the door;
indeed, I think I rather wished for that ruin than studied to avoid it.

In the meantime, however, I was cunning enough not to give the least
room to any in the family to suspect me, or to imagine that I had the
least correspondence with this young gentleman. I scarce ever looked
towards him in public, or answered if he spoke to me when anybody was
near us; but for all that, we had every now and then a little encounter,
where we had room for a word or two, an now and then a kiss, but no fair
opportunity for the mischief intended; and especially considering that he
made more circumlocution than, if he had known by thoughts, he had
occasion for; and the work appearing difficult to him, he really made it
so.
 23

But as the devil is an unwearied tempter, so he never fails to find

opportunity for that wickedness he invites to. It was one evenine that I
was in the garden, with his two younger sisters and himself, and all very
innocently merry, when he found means to convey a note into my hand,
by which he directed me to understand that he would to-morrow desire
me publicly to go of an errand for him into the town, and that I should
see him somewhere by the way.

Accordingly, after dinner, he very gravely says to me, his sisters being all
by, 'Mrs. Betty, I must ask a favour of you.' 'What's that?' says his second
sister. 'Nay, sister,' says he very gravely, 'if you can't spare Mrs. Betty to-
day, any other time will do.' Yes, they said, they could spare her well
enough, and the sister begged pardon for asking, which they did but of
mere course, without any meaning. 'Well, but, brother,' says the eldest
sister, 'you must tell Mrs. Betty what it is; if it be any private business
that we must not hear, you may call her out. There she is.' 'Why, sister,'
says the gentleman very gravely, 'what do you mean? I only desire her to
do into the High Street' (and then he pulls out a turnover), 'to such a
shop'; and then he tells them a long story of two fine neckcloths he had
bid money for, and he wanted to have me go and make an errand to buy
a neck to the turnover that he showed, to see if they would take my
money for the neckcloths; to bid a shilling more, and haggle with them;
and then he made more errands, and so continued to have such petty
business to do, that I should be sure to stay a good while.

When he had given me my errands, he told them a long story of a visit he

was going to make to a family they all knew, and where was to be such-
and-such gentlemen, and how merry they were to be, and very formally
asks his sisters to go with him, and they as formally excused themselves,
because of company that they had notice was to come and visit them that
afternoon; which, by the way, he had contrived on purpose.

He had scarce done speaking to them, and giving me my errand, but his
man came up to tell him that Sir W---H----'s coach stopped at the door;
so he runs down, and comes up again immediately. 'Alas!' says he aloud,
'there's all my mirth spoiled at once; sir W---has sent his coach for me,
and desires to speak with me upon some earnest business.' It seems this
Sir W--was a gentleman who lived about three miles out of town, to
whom he had spoken on purpose the day before, to lend him his chariot
 24

for a particular occasion, and had appointed it to call for him, as it did,
about three o'clock.

Immediately he calls for his best wig, hat, and sword, and ordering his
man to go to the other place to make his excuse-that was to say, he made
an excuse to send his man away--he prepares to go into the coach. As he
was going, he stopped a while, and speaks mighty earnestly to me about
his business, and finds an opportunity to say very softly to me, 'Come
away, my dear, as soon as ever you can.' I said nothing, but made a
curtsy, as if I had done so to what he said in public. In about a quarter of
an hour I went out too; I had no dress other than before, except that I
had a hood, a mask, a fan, and a pair of gloves in my pocket; so that there
was not the least suspicion in the house. He waited for me in the coach in
a back-lane, which he knew I must pass by, and had directed the
coachman whither to go, which was to a certain place, called Mile End,
where lived a confidant of his, where we went in, and where was all the
convenience in the world to be as wicked as we pleased.

When we were together he began to talk very gravely to me, and to tell
me he did not bring me there to betray me; that his passion for me would
not suffer him to abuse me; that he resolved to marry me as soon as he
came to his estate; that in the meantime, if I would grant his request, he
would maintain me very honourably; and made me a thousand
protestations of his sincerity and of his affection to me; and that he
would never abandon me, and as I may say, made a thousand more
preambles than he need to have done.

However, as he pressed me to speak, I told him I had no reason to

question the sincerity of his love to me after so many protestations, but--
and there I stopped, as if I left him to guess the rest. 'But what, my dear?'
says he. 'I guess what you mean: what if you should be with child? Is not
that it? Why, then,' says he, 'I'll take care of you and provide for you, and
the child too; and that you may see I am not in jest,' says he, 'here's an
earnest for you,' and with that he pulls out a silk purse, with an hundred
guineas in it, and gave it me. 'And I'll give you such another,' says he,
'every year till I marry you.'

My colour came and went, at the sight of the purse and with the fire of
his proposal together, so that I could not say a word, and he easily
perceived it; so putting the purse into my bosom, I made no more
 25

resistance to him, but let him do just what he pleased, and as often as he
pleased; and thus I finished my own destruction at once, for from this
day, being forsaken of my virtue and my modesty, I had nothing of value
left to recommend me, either to God's blessing or man's assistance.

But things did not end here. I went back to the town, did the business he
publicly directed me to, and was at home before anybody thought me
long. As for my gentleman, he stayed out, as he told me he would, till late
at night, and there was not the least suspicion in the family either on his
account or on mine.

We had, after this, frequent opportunities to repeat our crime --chiefly by

his contrivance--especially at home, when his mother and the young
ladies went abroad a-visiting, which he watched so narrowly as never to
miss; knowing always beforehand when they went out, and then failed
not to catch me all alone, and securely enough; so that we took our fill of
our wicked pleasure for near half a year; and yet, which was the most to
my satisfaction, I was not with child.

But before this half-year was expired, his younger brother, of whom I
have made some mention in the beginning of the story, falls to work with
me; and he, finding me along in the garden one evening, begins a story of
the same kind to me, made good honest professions of being in love with
me, and in short, proposes fairly and honourably to marry me, and that
before he made any other offer to me at all.

I was now confounded, and driven to such an extremity as the like was
never known; at least not to me. I resisted the proposal with obstinacy;
and now I began to arm myself with arguments. I laid before him the
inequality of the match; the treatment I should meet with in the family;
the ingratitude it would be to his good father and mother, who had taken
me into their house upon such generous principles, and when I was in
such a low condition; and, in short, I said everything to dissuade him
from his design that I could imagine, except telling him the truth, which
would indeed have put an end to It all, but that I durst not think of
mentioning.

But here happened a circumstance that I did not expect indeed, which
put me to my shifts; for this young gentleman, as he was plain and
honest, so he pretended to nothing with me but what was so too; and,
 26

knowing his own innocence, he was not so careful to make his having a
kindness for Mrs. Betty a secret I the house, as his brother was. And
though he did not let them know that he had talked to me about it, yet he
said enough to let his sisters perceive he loved me, and his mother saw it
too, which, though they took no notice of it to me, yet they did to him, an
immediately I found their carriage to me altered, more than ever before.

I saw the cloud, though I did not foresee the storm. It was easy, I say, to
see that their carriage to me was altered, and that it grew worse and
worse every day; till at last I got information among the servants that I
should, in a very little while, be desired to remove.

I was not alarmed at the news, having a full satisfaction that I should be
otherwise provided for; and especially considering that I had reason
every day to expect I should be with child, and that then I should be
obliged to remove without any pretences for it.

After some time the younger gentleman took an opportunity to tell me

that the kindness he had for me had got vent in the family. He did not
charge me with it, he said, for he know well enough which way it came
out. He told me his plain way of talking had been the occasion of it, for
that he did not make his respect for me so much a secret as he might
have done, and the reason was, that he was at a point, that if I would
consent to have him, he would tell them all openly that he loved me, and
that he intended to marry me; that it was true his father and mother
might resent it, and be unkind, but that he was now in a way to live,
being bred to the law, and he did not fear maintaining me agreeable to
what I should expect; and that, in short, as he believed I would not be
ashamed of him, so he was resolved not to be ashamed of me, and that
he scorned to be afraid to own me now, whom he resolved to own after I
was his wife, and therefore I had nothing to do but to give him my hand,
and he would answer for all the rest.

I was now in a dreadful condition indeed, and now I repented heartily

my easiness with the eldest brother; not from any reflection of
conscience, but from a view of the happiness I might have enjoyed, and
had now made impossible; for though I had no great scruples of
conscience, as I have said, to struggle with, yet I could not think of being
a whore to one brother and a wife to the other. But then it came into my
thoughts that the first brother had promised to made me his wife when
 27

he came to his estate; but I presently remembered what I had often

thought of, that he had never spoken a word of having me for a wife after
he had conquered me for a mistress; and indeed, till now, though I said I
thought of it often, yet it gave me no disturbance at all, for as he did not
seem in the least to lessen his affection to me, so neither did he lessen his
bounty, though he had the discretion himself to desire me not to lay out
a penny of what he gave me in clothes, or to make the least show
extraordinary, because it would necessarily give jealousy in the family,
since everybody know I could come at such things no manner of ordinary
way, but by some private friendship, which they would presently have
suspected.

But I was now in a great strait, and knew not what to do. The main
difficulty was this: the younger brother not only laid close siege to me,
but suffered it to be seen. He would come into his sister's room, and his
mother's room, and sit down, and talk a thousand kind things of me, and
to me, even before their faces, and when they were all there. This grew so
public that the whole house talked of it, and his mother reproved him for
it, and their carriage to me appeared quite altered. In short, his mother
had let fall some speeches, as if she intended to put me out of the family;
that is, in English, to turn me out of doors. Now I was sure this could not
be a secret to his brother, only that he might not think, as indeed nobody
else yet did, that the youngest brother had made any proposal to me
about it; but as I easily could see that it would go farther, so I saw
likewise there was an absolute necessity to speak of it to him, or that he
would speak of it to me, and which to do first I knew not; that is, whether
I should break it to him or let it alone till he should break it to me.

Upon serious consideration, for indeed now I began to consider things

very seriously, and never till now; I say, upon serious consideration, I
resolved to tell him of it first; and it was not long before I had an
opportunity, for the very next day his brother went to London upon some
business, and the family being out a-visiting, just as it had happened
before, and as indeed was often the case, he came according to his
custom, to spend an hour or two with Mrs. Betty.

When he came had had sat down a while, he easily perceived there was
an alteration in my countenance, that I was not so free and pleasant with
him as I used to be, and particularly, that I had been a-crying; he was not
 28

long before he took notice of it, and asked me in very kind terms what
was the matter, and if anything troubled me. I would have put it off if I
could, but it was not to be concealed; so after suffering many
importunities to draw that out of me which I longed as much as possible
to disclose, I told him that it was true something did trouble me, and
something of such a nature that I could not conceal from him, and yet
that I could not tell how to tell him of it neither; that it was a thing that
not only surprised me, but greatly perplexed me, and that I knew not
what course to take, unless he would direct me. He told me with great
tenderness, that let it be what it would, I should not let it trouble me, for
he would protect me from all the world.

I then began at a distance, and told him I was afraid the ladies had got
some secret information of our correspondence; for that it was easy to
see that their conduct was very much changed towards me for a great
while, and that now it was come to that pass that they frequently found
fault with me, and sometimes fell quite out with me, though I never gave
them the least occasion; that whereas I used always to lie with the eldest
sister, I was lately put to lie by myself, or with one of the maids; and that
I had overheard them several times talking very unkindly about me; but
that which confirmed it all was, that one of the servants had told me that
she had heard I was to be turned out, and that it was not safe for the
family that I should be any longer in the house.

He smiled when he herd all this, and I asked him how he could make so
light of it, when he must needs know that if there was any discovery I
was undone for ever, and that even it would hurt him, though not ruin
him as it would me. I upbraided him, that he was like all the rest of the
sex, that, when they had the character and honour of a woman at their
mercy, oftentimes made it their jest, and at least looked upon it as a
trifle, and counted the ruin of those they had had their will of as a thing
of no value.

He saw me warm and serious, and he changed his style immediately; he

told me he was sorry I should have such a thought of him; that he had
never given me the least occasion for it, but had been as tender of my
reputation as he could be of his own; that he was sure our
correspondence had been managed with so much address, that not one
creature in the family had so much as a suspicion of it; that if he smiled
 29

when I told him my thoughts, it was at the assurance he lately received,

that our understanding one another was not so much as known or
guessed at; and that when he had told me how much reason he had to be
easy, I should smile as he did, for he was very certain it would give me a
full satisfaction.

'This is a mystery I cannot understand,' says I, 'or how it should be to my

satisfaction that I am to be turned out of doors; for if our correspondence
is not discovered, I know not what else I have done to change the
countenances of the whole family to me, or to have them treat me as they
do now, who formerly used me with so much tenderness, as if I had been
one of their own children.'

'Why, look you, child,' says he, 'that they are uneasy about you, that is
true; but that they have the least suspicion of the case as it is, and as it
respects you and I, is so far from being true, that they suspect my brother
Robin; and, in short, they are fully persuaded he makes love to you; nay,
the fool has put it into their heads too himself, for he is continually
bantering them about it, and making a jest of himself. I confess I think
he is wrong to do so, because he cannot but see it vexes them, and makes
them unkind to you; but 'tis a satisfaction to me, because of the
assurance it gives me, that they do not suspect me in the least, and I
hope this will be to your satisfaction too.'

'So it is,' says I, 'one way; but this does not reach my case at all, nor is
this the chief thing that troubles me, though I have been concerned
about that too.' 'What is it, then?' says he. With which I fell to tears, and
could say nothing to him at all. He strove to pacify me all he could, but
began at last to be very pressing upon me to tell what it was. At last I
answered that I thought I ought to tell him too, and that he had some
right to know it; besides, that I wanted his direction in the case, for I was
in such perplexity that I knew not what course to take, and then I related
the whole affair to him. I told him how imprudently his brother had
managed himself, in making himself so public; for that if he had kept it a
secret, as such a thing out to have been, I could but have denied him
positively, without giving any reason for it, and he would in time have
ceased his solicitations; but that he had the vanity, first, to depend upon
it that I would not deny him, and then had taken the freedom to tell his
resolution of having me to the whole house.
 30

I told him how far I had resisted him, and told him how sincere and
honourable his offers were. 'But,' says I, 'my case will be doubly hard; for
as they carry it ill to me now, because he desires to have me, they'll carry
it worse when they shall find I have denied him; and they will presently
say, there's something else in it, and then out it comes that I am married
already to somebody else, or that I would never refuse a match so much
above me as this was.'

This discourse surprised him indeed very much. He told me that it was a
critical point indeed for me to manage, and he did not see which way I
should get out of it; but he would consider it, and let me know next time
we met, what resolution he was come to about it; and in the meantime
desired I would not give my consent to his brother, nor yet give him a flat
denial, but that I would hold him in suspense a while.

I seemed to start at his saying I should not give him my consent. I told
him he knew very well I had no consent to give; that he had engaged
himself to marry me, and that my consent was the same time engaged to
him; that he had all along told me I was his wife, and I looked upon
myself as effectually so as if the ceremony had passed; and that it was
from his own mouth that I did so, he having all along persuaded me to
call myself his wife.

'Well, my dear,' says he, 'don't be concerned at that now; if I am not your
husband, I'll be as good as a husband to you; and do not let those things
trouble you now, but let me look a little farther into this affair, and I shall
be able to say more next time we meet.'

He pacified me as well as he could with this, but I found he was very

thoughtful, and that though he was very kind to me and kissed me a
thousand times, and more I believe, and gave me money too, yet he
offered no more all the while we were together, which was above two
hours, and which I much wondered at indeed at that time, considering
how it used to be, and what opportunity we had.

His brother did not come from London for five or six days, and it was
two days more before he got an opportunity to talk with him; but then
getting him by himself he began to talk very close to him about it, and
the same evening got an opportunity (for we had a long conference
together) to repeat all their discourse to me, which, as near as I can
 31

remember, was to the purpose following. He told him he heard strange

news of him since he went, viz. that he made love to Mrs. Betty. 'Well,
says his brother a little angrily, 'and so I do. And what then? What has
anybody to do with that?' 'Nay,' says his brother, 'don't be angry, Robin; I
don't pretend to have anything to do with it; nor do I pretend to be angry
with you about it. But I find they do concern themselves about it, and
that they have used the poor girl ill about it, which I should take as done
to myself.' 'Whom do you mean by THEY?' says Robin. 'I mean my
mother and the girls,' says the elder brother. 'But hark ye,' says his
brother, 'are you in earnest? Do you really love this girl? You may be free
with me, you know.' 'Why, then,' says Robin, 'I will be free with you; I do
love her above all the women in the world, and I will have her, let them
say and do what they will. I believe the girl will not deny me.'

It struck me to the heart when he told me this, for though it was most
rational to think I would not deny him, yet I knew in my own conscience
I must deny him, and I saw my ruin in my being obliged to do so; but I
knew it was my business to talk otherwise then, so I interrupted him in
his story thus.

'Ay!,' said I, 'does he think I cannot deny him? But he shall find I can
deny him, for all that.'

'Well, my dear,' says he, 'but let me give you the whole story as it went on
between us, and then say what you will.'

Then he went on and told me that he replied thus: 'But, brother, you
know she has nothing, and you may have several ladies with good
fortunes.'

''Tis no matter for that,' said Robin; 'I love the girl, and I will never
please my pocket in marrying, and not please my fancy.' 'And so, my
dear,' adds he, 'there is no opposing him.'
 32

CHAPTER 3

Yes, yes,' says I, 'you shall see I can oppose him; I have learnt to say No,
now though I had not learnt it before; if the best lord in the land offered
me marriage now, I could very cheerfully say No to him.'

'Well, but, my dear,' says he, 'what can you say to him? You know, as you
said when we talked of it before, he well ask you many questions about it,
and all the house will wonder what the meaning of it should be.'

'Why,' says I, smiling, 'I can stop all their mouths at one clap by telling
him, and them too, that I am married already to his elder brother.'

He smiled a little too at the word, but I could see it startled him, and he
could not hide the disorder it put him into. However, he returned, 'Why,
though that may be true in some sense, yet I suppose you are but in jest
when you talk of giving such an answer as that; it may not be convenient
on many accounts.'

'No, no,' says I pleasantly, 'I am not so fond of letting the secret come out
without your consent.'

'But what, then, can you say to him, or to them,' says he, 'when they find
you positive against a match which would be apparently so much to your
advantage?' 'Why,' says I, 'should I be at a loss? First of all, I am not
obliged to give me any reason at all; on the other hand, I may tell them I
am married already, and stop there, and that will be a full stop too to
him, for he can have no reason to ask one question after it.'

'Ay,' says he; 'but the whole house will tease you about that, even to
father and mother, and if you deny them positively, they will be
disobliged at you, and suspicious besides.'

'Why,' says I, 'what can I do? What would have me do? I was in straight
enough before, and as I told you, I was in perplexity before, and
acquainted you with the circumstances, that I might have your advice.'

'My dear,' says he, 'I have been considering very much upon it, you may
be sure, and though it is a piece of advice that has a great many
 33

mortifications in it to me, and may at first seem strange to you, yet, all
things considered, I see no better way for you than to let him go on; and
if you find him hearty and in earnest, marry him.'

I gave him a look full of horror at those words, and, turning pale as
death, was at the very point of sinking down out of the chair I sat in;
when, giving a start, 'My dear,' says he aloud, 'what's the matter with
you? Where are you a-going?' and a great many such things; and with
jogging and called to me, fetched me a little to myself, though it was a
good while before I fully recovered my senses, and was not able to speak
for several minutes more.

When I was fully recovered he began again. 'My dear,' says he, 'what
made you so surprised at what I said? I would have you consider
seriously of it? You may see plainly how the family stand in this case, and
they would be stark mad if it was my case, as it is my brother's; and for
aught I see, it would be my ruin and yours too.'

'Ay!' says I, still speaking angrily; 'are all your protestations and vows to
be shaken by the dislike of the family? Did I not always object that to
you, and you made light thing of it, as what you were above, and would
value; and is it come to this now?' said I. 'Is this your faith and honour,
your love, and the solidity of your promises?'

He continued perfectly calm, notwithstanding all my reproaches, and I

was not sparing of them at all; but he replied at last, 'My dear, I have not
broken one promise with you yet; I did tell you I would marry you when I
was come to my estate; but you see my father is a hale, healthy man, and
may live these thirty years still, and not be older than several are round
us in town; and you never proposed my marrying you sooner, because
you knew it might be my ruin; and as to all the rest, I have not failed you
in anything, you have wanted for nothing.'

I could not deny a word of this, and had nothing to say to it in general.
'But why, then,' says I, 'can you persuade me to such a horrid step as
leaving you, since you have not left me? Will you allow no affection, no
love on my side, where there has been so much on your side? Have I
made you no returns? Have I given no testimony of my sincerity and of
my passion? Are the sacrifices I have made of honour and modesty to
you no proof of my being tied to you in bonds too strong to be broken?'
 34

'But here, my dear,' says he, 'you may come into a safe station, and
appear with honour and with splendour at once, and the remembrance
of what we have done may be wrapt up in an eternal silence, as if it had
never happened; you shall always have my respect, and my sincere
affection, only then it shall be honest, and perfectly just to my brother;
you shall be my dear sister, as now you are my dear----' and there he
stopped.

'Your dear whore,' says I, 'you would have said if you had gone on, and
you might as well have said it; but I understand you. However, I desire
you to remember the long discourses you have had with me, and the
many hours' pains you have taken to persuade me to believe myself an
honest woman; that I was your wife intentionally, though not in the eyes
of the world, and that it was as effectual a marriage that had passed
between us as is we had been publicly wedded by the parson of the
parish. You know and cannot but remember that these have been your
own words to me.'

I found this was a little too close upon him, but I made it up in what
follows. He stood stock-still for a while and said nothing, and I went on
thus: 'You cannot,' says I, 'without the highest injustice, believe that I
yielded upon all these persuasions without a love not to be questioned,
not to be shaken again by anything that could happen afterward. If you
have such dishonourable thoughts of me, I must ask you what
foundation in any of my behaviour have I given for such a suggestion?

'If, then, I have yielded to the importunities of my affection, and if I have

been persuaded to believe that I am really, and in the essence of the
thing, your wife, shall I now give the lie to all those arguments and call
myself your whore, or mistress, which is the same thing? And will you
transfer me to your brother? Can you transfer my affection? Can you bid
me cease loving you, and bid me love him? It is in my power, think you,
to make such a change at demand? No, sir,' said I, 'depend upon it 'tis
impossible, and whatever the change of your side may be, I will ever be
true; and I had much rather, since it is come that unhappy length, be
your whore than your brother's wife.'

He appeared pleased and touched with the impression of this last

discourse, and told me that he stood where he did before; that he had not
been unfaithful to me in any one promise he had ever made yet, but that
 35

there were so many terrible things presented themselves to his view in

the affair before me, and that on my account in particular, that he had
thought of the other as a remedy so effectual as nothing could come up to
it. That he thought this would not be entire parting us, but we might love
as friends all our days, and perhaps with more satisfaction than we
should in the station we were now in, as things might happen; that he
durst say, I could not apprehend anything from him as to betraying a
secret, which could not but be the destruction of us both, if it came out;
that he had but one question to ask of me that could lie in the way of it,
and if that question was answered in the negative, he could not but think
still it was the only step I could take.

I guessed at his question presently, namely, whether I was sure I was not
with child? As to that, I told him he need not be concerned about it, for I
was not with child. 'Why, then, my dear,' says he, 'we have no time to talk
further now. Consider of it, and think closely about it; I cannot but be of
the opinion still, that it will be the best course you can take.' And with
this he took his leave, and the more hastily too, his mother and sisters
ringing at the gate, just at the moment that he had risen up to go.

He left me in the utmost confusion of thought; and he easily perceived it

the next day, and all the rest of the week, for it was but Tuesday evening
when we talked; but he had no opportunity to come at me all that week,
till the Sunday after, when I, being indisposed, did not go to church, and
he, making some excuse for the like, stayed at home.

And now he had me an hour and a half again by myself, and we fell into
the same arguments all over again, or at least so near the same, as it
would be to no purpose to repeat them. At last I asked him warmly, what
opinion he must have of my modesty, that he could suppose I should so
much as entertain a thought of lying with two brothers, and assured him
it could never be. I added, if he was to tell me that he would never see me
more, than which nothing but death could be more terrible, yet I could
never entertain a thought so dishonourable to myself, and so base to
him; and therefore, I entreated him, if he had one grain of respect or
affection left for me, that he would speak no more of it to me, or that he
would pull his sword out and kill me. He appeared surprised at my
obstinacy, as he called it; told me I was unkind to myself, and unkind to
him in it; that it was a crisis unlooked for upon us both, and impossible
 36

for either of us to foresee, but that he did not see any other way to save
us both from ruin, and therefore he thought it the more unkind; but that
if he must say no more of it to me, he added with an unusual coldness,
that he did not know anything else we had to talk of; and so he rose up to
take his leave. I rose up too, as if with the same indifference; but when he
came to give me as it were a parting kiss, I burst out into such a passion
of crying, that though I would have spoke, I could not, and only pressing
his hand, seemed to give him the adieu, but cried vehemently.

He was sensibly moved with this; so he sat down again, and said a great
many kind things to me, to abate the excess of my passion, but still urged
the necessity of what he had proposed; all the while insisting, that if I did
refuse, he would not withstanding provide for me; but letting me plainly
see that he would decline me in the main point--nay, even as a mistress;
making it a point of honour not to lie with the woman that, for aught he
knew, might come to be his brother's wife.

The bare loss of him as a gallant was not so much my affliction as the
loss of his person, whom indeed I loved to distraction; and the loss of all
the expectations I had, and which I always had built my hopes upon, of
having him one day for my husband. These things oppressed my mind so
much, that, in short, I fell very ill; the agonies of my mind, in a word,
threw me into a high fever, and long it was, that none in the family
expected my life.

I was reduced very low indeed, and was often delirious and light-headed;
but nothing lay so near me as the fear that, when I was light-headed, I
should say something or other to his prejudice. I was distressed in my
mind also to see him, and so he was to see me, for he really loved me
most passionately; but it could not be; there was not the least room to
desire it on one side or other, or so much as to make it decent.

It was near five weeks that I kept my bed and though the violence of my
fever abated in three weeks, yet it several times returned; and the
physicians said two or three times, they could do no more for me, but
that they must leave nature and the distemper to fight it out, only
strengthening the first with cordials to maintain the struggle. After the
end of five weeks I grew better, but was so weak, so altered, so
melancholy, and recovered so slowly, that they physicians apprehended I
should go into a consumption; and which vexed me most, they gave it as
 37

their opinion that my mind was oppressed, that something troubled me,
and, in short, that I was in love. Upon this, the whole house was set upon
me to examine me, and to press me to tell whether I was in love or not,
and with whom; but as I well might, I denied my being in love at all.

They had on this occasion a squabble one day about me at table, that had
like to have put the whole family in an uproar, and for some time did so.
They happened to be all at table but the father; as for me, I was ill, and in
my chamber. At the beginning of the talk, which was just as they had
finished their dinner, the old gentlewoman, who had sent me somewhat
to eat, called her maid to go up and ask me if I would have any more; but
the maid brought down word I had not eaten half what she had sent me
already.

'Alas, says the old lady, 'that poor girl! I am afraid she will never be well.'

'Well!' says the elder brother, 'how should Mrs. Betty be well? They say
she is in love.'

'I believe nothing of it,' says the old gentlewoman.

'I don't know,' says the eldest sister, 'what to say to it; they have made
such a rout about her being so handsome, and so charming, and I know
not what, and that in her hearing too, that has turned the creature's
head, I believe, and who knows what possessions may follow such
doings? For my part, I don't know what to make of it.'

'Why, sister, you must acknowledge she is very handsome,' says the elder
brother.'

'Ay, and a great deal handsomer than you, sister,' says Robin, 'and that's
your mortification.'

'Well, well, that is not the question,' says his sister; 'that girl is well
enough, and she knows it well enough; she need not be told of it to make
her vain.'

'We are not talking of her being vain,' says the elder brother, 'but of her
being in love; it may be she is in love with herself; it seems my sisters
think so.'
 38

'I would she was in love with me,' says Robin; 'I'd quickly put her out of
her pain.'

'What d'ye mean by that, son,' says the old lady; 'how can you talk so?'

'Why, madam,' says Robin, again, very honestly, 'do you think I'd let the
poor girl die for love, and of one that is near at hand to be had, too?'

'Fie, brother!', says the second sister, 'how can you talk so? Would you
take a creature that has not a groat in the world?'

'Prithee, child,' says Robin, 'beauty's a portion, and good humour with it
is a double portion; I wish thou hadst half her stock of both for thy
portion.' So there was her mouth stopped.

'I find,' says the eldest sister, 'if Betty is not in love, my brother is. I
wonder he has not broke his mind to Betty; I warrant she won't say No.'

'They that yield when they're asked,' says Robin, 'are one step before
them that were never asked to yield, sister, and two steps before them
that yield before they are asked; and that's an answer to you, sister.'

This fired the sister, and she flew into a passion, and said, things were
some to that pass that it was time the wench, meaning me, was out of the
family; and but that she was not fit to be turned out, she hoped her
father and mother would consider of it as soon as she could be removed.

Robin replied, that was business for the master and mistress of the
family, who where not to be taught by one that had so little judgment as
his eldest sister.

It ran up a great deal farther; the sister scolded, Robin rallied and
bantered, but poor Betty lost ground by it extremely in the family. I
heard of it, and I cried heartily, and the old lady came up to me,
somebody having told her that I was so much concerned about it. I
complained to her, that it was very hard the doctors should pass such a
censure upon me, for which they had no ground; and that it was still
harder, considering the circumstances I was under in the family; that I
hoped I had done nothing to lessen her esteem for me, or given any
occasion for the bickering between her sons and daughters, and I had
more need to think of a coffin than of being in love, and begged she
 39

would not let me suffer in her opinion for anybody's mistakes but my
own.

She was sensible of the justice of what I said, but told me, since there had
been such a clamour among them, and that her younger son talked after
such a rattling way as he did, she desired I would be so faithful to her as
to answer her but one question sincerely. I told her I would, with all my
heart, and with the utmost plainness and sincerity. Why, then, the
question was, whether there was anything between her son Robert and
me. I told her with all the protestations of sincerity that I was able to
make, and as I might well, do, that there was not, nor every had been; I
told her that Mr. Robert had rattled and jested, as she knew it was his
way, and that I took it always, as I supposed he meant it, to be a wild airy
way of discourse that had no signification in it; and again assured her,
that there was not the least tittle of what she understood by it between
us; and that those who had suggested it had done me a great deal of
wrong, and Mr. Robert no service at all.

The old lady was fully satisfied, and kissed me, spoke cheerfully to me,
and bid me take care of my health and want for nothing, and so took her
leave. But when she came down she found the brother and all his sisters
together by the ears; they were angry, even to passion, at his upbraiding
them with their being homely, and having never had any sweethearts,
never having been asked the question, and their being so forward as
almost to ask first. He rallied them upon the subject of Mrs. Betty; how
pretty, how good-humoured, how she sung better then they did, and
danced better, and how much handsomer she was; and in doing this he
omitted no ill-natured thing that could vex them, and indeed, pushed too
hard upon them. The old lady came down in the height of it, and to put a
stop it to, told them all the discourse she had had with me, and how I
answered, that there was nothing between Mr. Robert and I.

'She's wrong there,' says Robin, 'for if there was not a great deal between
us, we should be closer together than we are. I told her I loved her
hugely,' says he, 'but I could never make the jade believe I was in
earnest.' 'I do not know how you should,' says his mother; 'nobody in
their senses could believe you were in earnest, to talk so to a poor girl,
whose circumstances you know so well.
 40

'But prithee, son,' adds she, 'since you tell me that you could not make
her believe you were in earnest, what must we believe about it? For you
ramble so in your discourse, that nobody knows whether you are in
earnest or in jest; but as I find the girl, by your own confession, has
answered truly, I wish you would do so too, and tell me seriously, so that
I may depend upon it. Is there anything in it or no? Are you in earnest or
no? Are you distracted, indeed, or are you not? 'Tis a weighty question,
and I wish you would make us easy about it.'

'By my faith, madam,' says Robin, ''tis in vain to mince the matter or tell
any more lies about it; I am in earnest, as much as a man is that's going
to be hanged. If Mrs. Betty would say she loved me, and that she would
marry me, I'd have her tomorrow morning fasting, and say, 'To have and
to hold,' instead of eating my breakfast.'

'Well,' says the mother, 'then there's one son lost'; and she said it in a
very mournful tone, as one greatly concerned at it.

'I hope not, madam,' says Robin; 'no man is lost when a good wife has
found him.'

'Why, but, child,' says the old lady, 'she is a beggar.'

'Why, then, madam, she has the more need of charity,' says Robin; 'I'll
take her off the hands of the parish, and she and I'll beg together.'

'It's bad jesting with such things,' says the mother.

'I don't jest, madam,' says Robin. 'We'll come and beg your pardon,
madam; and your blessing, madam, and my father's.'

'This is all out of the way, son,' says the mother. 'If you are in earnest you
are undone.'

'I am afraid not,' says he, 'for I am really afraid she won't have me; after
all my sister's huffing and blustering, I believe I shall never be able to
persuade her to it.'

'That's a fine tale, indeed; she is not so far out of her senses neither. Mrs.
Betty is no fool,' says the younger sister. 'Do you think she has learnt to
say No, any more than other people?'
 41

'No, Mrs. Mirth-wit,' says Robin, 'Mrs. Betty's no fool; but Mrs. Betty
may be engaged some other way, and what then?'

'Nay,' says the eldest sister, 'we can say nothing to that. Who must it be
to, then? She is never out of the doors; it must be between you.'

'I have nothing to say to that,' says Robin. 'I have been examined enough;
there's my brother. If it must be between us, go to work with him.'

This stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded that Robin
had discovered something. However, he kept himself from appearing
disturbed. 'Prithee,' says he, 'don't go to shame your stories off upon me;
I tell you, I deal in no such ware; I have nothing to say to Mrs. Betty, nor
to any of the Mrs. Bettys in the parish'; and with that he rose up and
brushed off.

'No,' says the eldest sister, 'I dare answer for my brother; he knows the
world better.'

Thus the discourse ended, but it left the elder brother quite confounded.
He concluded his brother had made a full discovery, and he began to
doubt whether I had been concerned in it or not; but with all his
management he could not bring it about to get at me. At last he was so
perplexed that he was quite desperate, and resolved he would come into
my chamber and see me, whatever came of it. In order to do this, he
contrived it so, that one day after dinner, watching his eldest sister till he
could see her go upstairs, he runs after her. 'Hark ye, sister,' says he,
'where is this sick woman? May not a body see her?' 'Yes,' says the sister,
'I believe you may; but let me go first a little, and I'll tell you.' So she ran
up to the door and gave me notice, and presently called to him again.
'Brother,' says she, 'you may come if you please.' So in he came, just in
the same kind of rant. 'Well,' says he at the door as he came in, 'where is
this sick body that's in love? How do ye do, Mrs. Betty?' I would have got
up out of my chair, but was so weak I could not for a good while; and he
saw it, and his sister to, and she said, 'Come, do not strive to stand up;
my brother desires no ceremony, especially now you are so weak.' 'No,
no, Mrs. Betty, pray sit still,' says he, and so sits himself down in a chair
over against me, and appeared as if he was mighty merry.

He talked a lot of rambling stuff to his sister and to me, sometimes of

one thing, sometimes of another, on purpose to amuse his sister, and
 42

every now and then would turn it upon the old story, directing it to me.
'Poor Mrs. Betty,' says he, 'it is a sad thing to be in love; why, it has
reduced you sadly.' At last I spoke a little. 'I am glad to see you so merry,
sir,' says I; 'but I think the doctor might have found something better to
do than to make his game at his patients. If I had been ill of no other
distemper, I know the proverb too well to have let him come to me.'
'What proverb?' says he, 'Oh! I remember it now. What- "Where love is
the case, The doctor's an ass."

Is not that it, Mrs. Betty?' I smiled and said nothing. 'Nay,' says he, 'I
think the effect has proved it to be love, for it seems the doctor has been
able to do you but little service; you mend very slowly, they say. I doubt
there's somewhat in it, Mrs. Betty; I doubt you are sick of the incurables,
and that is love.' I smiled and said, 'No, indeed, sir, that's none of my
distemper.'

We had a deal of such discourse, and sometimes others that signified as

little. By and by he asked me to sing them a song, at which I smiled, and
said my singing days were over. At last he asked me if he should play
upon his flute to me; his sister said she believe it would hurt me, and that
my head could not bear it. I bowed, and said, No, it would not hurt me.
'And, pray, madam.' said I, 'do not hinder it; I love the music of the flute
very much.' Then his sister said, 'Well, do, then, brother.' With that he
pulled out the key of his closet. 'Dear sister,' says he, 'I am very lazy; do
step to my closet and fetch my flute; it lies in such a drawer,' naming a
place where he was sure it was not, that she might be a little while a-
looking for it.

As soon as she was gone, he related the whole story to me of the

discourse his brother had about me, and of his pushing it at him, and his
concern about it, which was the reason of his contriving this visit to me. I
assured him I had never opened my mouth either to his brother or to
anybody else. I told him the dreadful exigence I was in; that my love to
him, and his offering to have me forget that affection and remove it to
another, had thrown me down; and that I had a thousand times wished I
might die rather than recover, and to have the same circumstances to
struggle with as I had before, and that his backwardness to life had been
the great reason of the slowness of my recovering. I added that I foresaw
that as soon as I was well, I must quit the family, and that as for
 43

marrying his brother, I abhorred the thoughts of it after what had been
my case with him, and that he might depend upon it I would never see
his brother again upon that subject; that if he would break all his vows
and oaths and engagements with me, be that between his conscience and
his honour and himself; but he should never be able to say that I, whom
he had persuaded to call myself his wife, and who had given him the
liberty to use me as a wife, was not as faithful to him as a wife ought to
be, whatever he might be to me.

He was going to reply, and had said that he was sorry I could not be
persuaded, and was a-going to say more, but he heard his sister a-
coming, and so did I; and yet I forced out these few words as a reply, that
I could never be persuaded to love one brother and marry another. He
shook his head and said, 'Then I am ruined,' meaning himself; and that
moment his sister entered the room and told him she could not find the
flute. 'Well,' says he merrily, 'this laziness won't do'; so he gets up and
goes himself to go to look for it, but comes back without it too; not but
that he could have found it, but because his mind was a little disturbed,
and he had no mind to play; and, besides, the errand he sent his sister on
was answered another way; for he only wanted an opportunity to speak
to me, which he gained, though not much to his satisfaction.

I had, however, a great deal of satisfaction in having spoken my mind to

him with freedom, and with such an honest plainness, as I have related;
and though it did not at all work the way I desired, that is to say, to
oblige the person to me the more, yet it took from him all possibility of
quitting me but by a downright breach of honour, and giving up all the
faith of a gentleman to me, which he had so often engaged by, never to
abandon me, but to make me his wife as soon as he came to his estate.

It was not many weeks after this before I was about the house again, and
began to grow well; but I continued melancholy, silent, dull, and retired,
which amazed the whole family, except he that knew the reason of it; yet
it was a great while before he took any notice of it, and I, as backward to
speak as he, carried respectfully to him, but never offered to speak a
word to him that was particular of any kind whatsoever; and this
continued for sixteen or seventeen weeks; so that, as I expected every
day to be dismissed the family, on account of what distaste they had
taken another way, in which I had no guilt, so I expected to hear no more
 44

of this gentleman, after all his solemn vows and protestations, but to be
ruined and abandoned.

At last I broke the way myself in the family for my removing; for being
talking seriously with the old lady one day, about my own circumstances
in the world, and how my distemper had left a heaviness upon my spirits,
that I was not the same thing I was before, the old lady said, 'I am afraid,
Betty, what I have said to you about my son has had some influence upon
you, and that you are melancholy on his account; pray, will you let me
know how the matter stands with you both, if it may not be improper?
For, as for Robin, he does nothing but rally and banter when I speak of it
to him.' 'Why, truly, madam,' said I 'that matter stands as I wish it did
not, and I shall be very sincere with you in it, whatever befalls me for it.
Mr. Robert has several times proposed marriage to me, which is what I
had no reason to expect, my poor circumstances considered; but I have
always resisted him, and that perhaps in terms more positive than
became me, considering the regard that I ought to have for every branch
of your family; but,' said I, 'madam, I could never so far forget my
obligation to you and all your house, to offer to consent to a thing which
I know must needs be disobliging to you, and this I have made my
argument to him, and have positively told him that I would never
entertain a thought of that kind unless I had your consent, and his
father's also, to whom I was bound by so many invincible obligations.'

'And is this possible, Mrs. Betty?' says the old lady. 'Then you have been
much juster to us than we have been to you; for we have all looked upon
you as a kind of snare to my son, and I had a proposal to make to you for
your removing, for fear of it; but I had not yet mentioned it to you,
because I thought you were not thorough well, and I was afraid of
grieving you too much, lest it should throw you down again; for we have
all a respect for you still, though not so much as to have it be the ruin of
my son; but if it be as you say, we have all wronged you very much.'

'As to the truth of what I say, madam,' said I, 'refer you to your son
himself; if he will do me any justice, he must tell you the story just as I
have told it.'

Away goes the old lady to her daughters and tells them the whole story,
just as I had told it her; and they were surprised at it, you may be sure, as
I believed they would be. One said she could never have thought it;
 45

another said Robin was a fool; a third said she would not believe a word
of it, and she would warrant that Robin would tell the story another way.
But the old gentlewoman, who was resolved to go to the bottom of it
before I could have the least opportunity of acquainting her son with
what had passed, resolved too that she would talk with her son
immediately, and to that purpose sent for him, for he was gone but to a
lawyer's house in the town, upon some petty business of his own, and
upon her sending he returned immediately.

Upon his coming up to them, for they were all still together, 'Sit down,
Robin,' says the old lady, 'I must have some talk with you.' 'With all my
heart, madam,' says Robin, looking very merry. 'I hope it is about a good
wife, for I am at a great loss in that affair.' 'How can that be?' says his
mother; 'did not you say you resolved to have Mrs. Betty?' 'Ay, madam,'
says Robin, 'but there is one has forbid the banns.' 'Forbid, the banns!'
says his mother; 'who can that be?' 'Even Mrs. Betty herself,' says Robin.
'How so?' says his mother. 'Have you asked her the question, then?' 'Yes,
indeed, madam,' says Robin. 'I have attacked her in form five times since
she was sick, and am beaten off; the jade is so stout she won't capitulate
nor yield upon any terms, except such as I cannot effectually grant.'
'Explain yourself,' says the mother, 'for I am surprised; I do not
understand you. I hope you are not in earnest.'

'Why, madam,' says he, 'the case is plain enough upon me, it explains
itself; she won't have me, she says; is not that plain enough? I think 'tis
plain, and pretty rough too.' 'Well, but,' says the mother, 'you talk of
conditions that you cannot grant; what does she want--a settlement? Her
jointure ought to be according to her portion; but what fortune does she
bring you?' 'Nay, as to fortune,' says Robin, 'she is rich enough; I am
satisfied in that point; but 'tis I that am not able to come up to her terms,
and she is positive she will not have me without.'

Here the sisters put in. 'Madam,' says the second sister, ''tis impossible to
be serious with him; he will never give a direct answer to anything; you
had better let him alone, and talk no more of it to him; you know how to
dispose of her out of his way if you thought there was anything in it.'
Robin was a little warmed with his sister's rudeness, but he was even
with her, and yet with good manners too. 'There are two sorts of people,
madam,' says he, turning to his mother, 'that there is no contending
 46

with; that is, a wise body and a fool; 'tis a little hard I should engage with
both of them together.'

The younger sister then put in. 'We must be fools indeed,' says she, 'in
my brother's opinion, that he should think we can believe he has
seriously asked Mrs. Betty to marry him, and that she has refused him.'

'Answer, and answer not, say Solomon,' replied her brother. 'When your
brother had said to your mother that he had asked her no less than five
times, and that it was so, that she positively denied him, methinks a
younger sister need not question the truth of it when her mother did
not.' 'My mother, you see, did not understand it,' says the second sister.
'There's some difference,' says Robin, 'between desiring me to explain it,
and telling me she did not believe it.'

'Well, but, son,' says the old lady, 'if you are disposed to let us into the
mystery of it, what were these hard conditions?' 'Yes, madam,' says
Robin, 'I had done it before now, if the teasers here had not worried my
by way of interruption. The conditions are, that I bring my father and
you to consent to it, and without that she protests she will never see me
more upon that head; and to these conditions, as I said, I suppose I shall
never be able to grant. I hope my warm sisters will be answered now, and
blush a little; if not, I have no more to say till I hear further.'

This answer was surprising to them all, though less to the mother,
because of what I had said to her. As to the daughters, they stood mute a
great while; but the mother said with some passion, 'Well, I had heard
this before, but I could not believe it; but if it is so, they we have all done
Betty wrong, and she has behaved better than I ever expected.' 'Nay,'
says the eldest sister, 'if it be so, she has acted handsomely indeed.' 'I
confess,' says the mother, 'it was none of her fault, if he was fool enough
to take a fancy to her; but to give such an answer to him, shows more
respect to your father and me than I can tell how to express; I shall value
the girl the better for it as long as I know her.' 'But I shall not,' says
Robin, 'unless you will give your consent.' 'I'll consider of that a while,'
says the mother; 'I assure you, if there were not some other objections in
the way, this conduct of hers would go a great way to bring me to
consent.' 'I wish it would go quite through it,' says Robin; 'if you had a
much thought about making me easy as you have about making me rich,
you would soon consent to it.'
 47

'Why, Robin,' says the mother again, 'are you really in earnest? Would
you so fain have her as you pretend?' "Really, madam,' says Robin, 'I
think 'tis hard you should question me upon that head after all I have
said. I won't say that I will have her; how can I resolve that point, when
you see I cannot have her without your consent? Besides, I am not bound
to marry at all. But this I will say, I am in earnest in, that I will never
have anybody else if I can help it; so you may determine for me. Betty or
nobody is the word, and the question which of the two shall be in your
breast to decide, madam, provided only, that my good-humoured sisters
here may have no vote in it.'

All this was dreadful to me, for the mother began to yield, and Robin
pressed her home on it. On the other hand, she advised with the eldest
son, and he used all the arguments in the world to persuade her to
consent; alleging his brother's passionate love for me, and my generous
regard to the family, in refusing my own advantages upon such a nice
point of honour, and a thousand such things. And as to the father, he was
a man in a hurry of public affairs and getting money, seldom at home,
thoughtful of the main chance, but left all those things to his wife.

You may easily believe, that when the plot was thus, as they thought,
broke out, and that every one thought they knew how things were
carried, it was not so difficult or so dangerous for the elder brother,
whom nobody suspected of anything, to have a freer access to me than
before; nay, the mother, which was just as he wished, proposed it to him
to talk with Mrs. Betty. 'For it may be, son,' said she, 'you may see farther
into the thing than I, and see if you think she has been so positive as
Robin says she has been, or no.' This was as well as he could wish, and
he, as it were, yielding to talk with me at his mother's request, she
brought me to him into her own chamber, told me her son had some
business with me at her request, and desired me to be very sincere with
him, and then she left us together, and he went and shut the door after
her.

He came back to me and took me in his arms, and kissed me very

tenderly; but told me he had a long discourse to hold with me, and it was
not come to that crisis, that I should make myself happy or miserable as
long as I lived; that the thing was now gone so far, that if I could not
comply with his desire, we would both be ruined. Then he told the whole
 48

story between Robin, as he called him, and his mother and sisters and
himself, as it is above. 'And now, dear child,' says he, 'consider what it
will be to marry a gentleman of a good family, in good circumstances,
and with the consent of the whole house, and to enjoy all that he world
can give you; and what, on the other hand, to be sunk into the dark
circumstances of a woman that has lost her reputation; and that though I
shall be a private friend to you while I live, yet as I shall be suspected
always, so you will be afraid to see me, and I shall be afraid to own you.'

He gave me no time to reply, but went on with me thus: 'What has

happened between us, child, so long as we both agree to do so, may be
buried and forgotten. I shall always be your sincere friend, without any
inclination to nearer intimacy, when you become my sister; and we shall
have all the honest part of conversation without any reproaches between
us of having done amiss. I beg of you to consider it, and to not stand in
the way of your own safety and prosperity; and to satisfy you that I am
sincere,' added he, 'I here offer you #500 in money, to make you some
amends for the freedoms I have taken with you, which we shall look
upon as some of the follies of our lives, which 'tis hoped we may repent
of.'

He spoke this in so much more moving terms than it is possible for me to

express, and with so much greater force of argument than I can repeat,
that I only recommend it to those who read the story, to suppose, that as
he held me above an hour and a half in that discourse, so he answered all
my objections, and fortified his discourse with all the arguments that
human wit and art could devise.

I cannot say, however, that anything he said made impression enough

upon me so as to give me any thought of the matter, till he told me at last
very plainly, that if I refused, he was sorry to add that he could never go
on with me in that station as we stood before; that though he loved me as
well as ever, and that I was as agreeable to him as ever, yet sense of
virtue had not so far forsaken him as to suffer him to lie with a woman
that his brother courted to make his wife; and if he took his leave of me,
with a denial in this affair, whatever he might do for me in the point of
support, grounded on his first engagement of maintaining me, yet he
would not have me be surprised that he was obliged to tell me he could
 49

not allow himself to see me any more; and that, indeed, I could not
expect it of him.

I received this last part with some token of surprise and disorder, and
had much ado to avoid sinking down, for indeed I loved him to an
extravagance not easy to imagine; but he perceived my disorder. He
entreated me to consider seriously of it; assured me that it was the only
way to preserve our mutual affection; that in this station we might love
as friends, with the utmost passion, and with a love of relation untainted,
free from our just reproaches, and free from other people's suspicions;
that he should ever acknowledge his happiness owing to me; that he
would be debtor to me as long as he lived, and would be paying that debt
as long as he had breath. Thus he wrought me up, in short, to a kind of
hesitation in the matter; having the dangers on one side represented in
lively figures, and indeed, heightened by my imagination of being turned
out to the wide world a mere cast-off whore, for it was no less, and
perhaps exposed as such, with little to provide for myself, with no friend,
no acquaintance in the whole world, out of that town, and there I could
not pretend to stay. All this terrified me to the last degree, and he took
care upon all occasions to lay it home to me in the worst colours that it
could be possible to be drawn in. On the other hand, he failed not to set
forth the easy, prosperous life which I was going to live. He answered all
that I could object from affection, and from former engagements, with
telling me the necessity that was before us of taking other measures now;
and as to his promises of marriage, the nature of things, he said, had put
an end to that, by the probability of my being his brother's wife, before
the time to which his promises all referred.

Thus, in a word, I may say, he reasoned me out of my reason; he

conquered all my arguments, and I began to see a danger that I was in,
which I had not considered of before, and that was, of being dropped by
both of them and left alone in the world to shift for myself.

This, and his persuasion, at length prevailed with me to consent, though

with so much reluctance, that it was easy to see I should go to church like
a bear to the stake. I had some little apprehensions about me, too, lest
my new spouse, who, by the way, I had not the least affection for, should
be skillful enough to challenge me on another account, upon our first
coming to bed together. But whether he did it with design or not, I know
 50

not, but his elder brother took care to make him very much fuddled
before he went to bed, so that I had the satisfaction of a drunken
bedfellow the first night. How he did it I know not, but I concluded that
he certainly contrived it, that his brother might be able to make no
judgment of the difference between a maid and a married woman; nor
did he ever entertain any notions of it, or disturb his thoughts about it.

I should go back a little here to where I left off. The elder brother having
thus managed me, his next business was to manage his mother, and he
never left till he had brought her to acquiesce and be passive in the thing,
even without acquainting the father, other than by post letters; so that
she consented to our marrying privately, and leaving her to manage the
father afterwards.

Then he cajoled with his brother, and persuaded him what service he had
done him, and how he had brought his mother to consent, which, though
true, was not indeed done to serve him, but to serve himself; but thus
diligently did he cheat him, and had the thanks of a faithful friend for
shifting off his whore into his brother's arms for a wife. So certainly does
interest banish all manner of affection, and so naturally do men give up
honour and justice, humanity, and even Christianity, to secure
themselves.

I must now come back to brother Robin, as we always called him, who
having got his mother's consent, as above, came big with the news to me,
and told me the whole story of it, with a sincerity so visible, that I must
confess it grieved me that I must be the instrument to abuse so honest a
gentleman. But there was no remedy; he would have me, and I was not
obliged to tell him that I was his brother's whore, though I had no other
way to put him off; so I came gradually into it, to his satisfaction, and
behold we were married.

Modesty forbids me to reveal the secrets of the marriage-bed, but

nothing could have happened more suitable to my circumstances than
that, as above, my husband was so fuddled when he came to bed, that he
could not remember in the morning whether he had had any
conversation with me or no, and I was obliged to tell him he had, though
in reality he had not, that I might be sure he could make to inquiry about
anything else.
 51

It concerns the story in hand very little to enter into the further
particulars of the family, or of myself, for the five years that I lived with
this husband, only to observe that I had two children by him, and that at
the end of five years he died. He had been really a very good husband to
me, and we lived very agreeably together; but as he had not received
much from them, and had in the little time he lived acquired no great
matters, so my circumstances were not great, nor was I much mended by
the match. Indeed, I had preserved the elder brother's bonds to me, to
pay #500, which he offered me for my consent to marry his brother; and
this, with what I had saved of the money he formerly gave me, about as
much more by my husband, left me a widow with about #1200 in my
pocket.

My two children were, indeed, taken happily off my hands by my

husband's father and mother, and that, by the way, was all they got by
Mrs. Betty.

I confess I was not suitably affected with the loss of my husband, nor
indeed can I say that I ever loved him as I ought to have done, or as was
proportionable to the good usage I had from him, for he was a tender,
kind, good-humoured man as any woman could desire; but his brother
being so always in my sight, at least while we were in the country, was a
continual snare to me, and I never was in bed with my husband but I
wished myself in the arms of his brother; and though his brother never
offered me the least kindness that way after our marriage, but carried it
just as a brother out to do, yet it was impossible for me to do so to him;
in short, I committed adultery and incest with him every day in my
desires, which, without doubt, was as effectually criminal in the nature of
the guilt as if I had actually done it.
 52

CHAPTER 4

Before my husband died his elder brother was married, and we, being
then removed to London, were written to by the old lady to come and be
at the wedding. My husband went, but I pretended indisposition, and
that I could not possibly travel, so I stayed behind; for, in short, I could
not bear the sight of his being given to another woman, though I knew I
was never to have him myself.

I was now, as above, left loose to the world, and being still young and
handsome, as everybody said of me, and I assure you I thought myself
so, and with a tolerable fortune in my pocket, I put no small value upon
myself. I was courted by several very considerable tradesmen, and
particularly very warmly by one, a linen-draper, at whose house, after my
husband's death, I took a lodging, his sister being my acquaintance. Here
I had all the liberty and all the opportunity to be gay and appear in
company that I could desire, my landlord's sister being one of the
maddest, gayest things alive, and not so much mistress of her virtue as I
thought as first she had been. She brought me into a world of wild
company, and even brought home several persons, such as she liked well
enough to gratify, to see her pretty widow, so she was pleased to call me,
and that name I got in a little time in public. Now, as fame and fools
make an assembly, I was here wonderfully caressed, had abundance of
admirers, and such as called themselves lovers; but I found not one fair
proposal among them all. As for their common design, that I understood
too well to be drawn into any more snares of that kind. The case was
altered with me: I had money in my pocket, and had nothing to say to
them. I had been tricked once by that cheat called love, but the game was
over; I was resolved now to be married or nothing, and to be well
married or not at all.

I loved the company, indeed, of men of mirth and wit, men of gallantry
and figure, and was often entertained with such, as I was also with
others; but I found by just observation, that the brightest men came
upon the dullest errand--that is to say, the dullest as to what I aimed at.
On the other hand, those who came with the best proposals were the
dullest and most disagreeable part of the world. I was not averse to a
 53

tradesman, but then I would have a tradesman, forsooth, that was

something of a gentleman too; that when my husband had a mind to
carry me to the court, or to the play, he might become a sword, and look
as like a gentleman as another man; and not be one that had the mark of
his apron-strings upon his coat, or the mark of his hat upon his periwig;
that should look as if he was set on to his sword, when his sword was put
on to him, and that carried his trade in his countenance.

Well, at last I found this amphibious creature, this land-water thing

called a gentleman-tradesman; and as a just plague upon my folly, I was
catched in the very snare which, as I might say, I laid for myself. I said
for myself, for I was not trepanned, I confess, but I betrayed myself.

This was a draper, too, for though my comrade would have brought me
to a bargain with her brother, yet when it came to the point, it was, it
seems, for a mistress, not a wife; and I kept true to this notion, that a
woman should never be kept for a mistress that had money to keep
herself.

Thus my pride, not my principle, my money, not my virtue, kept me

honest; though, as it proved, I found I had much better have been sold by
my she-comrade to her brother, than have sold myself as I did to a
tradesman that was rake, gentleman, shopkeeper, and beggar, all
together.

But I was hurried on (by my fancy to a gentleman) to ruin myself in the

grossest manner that every woman did; for my new husband coming to a
lump of money at once, fell into such a profusion of expense, that all I
had, and all he had before, if he had anything worth mentioning, would
not have held it out above one year.

He was very fond of me for about a quarter of a year, and what I got by
that was, that I had the pleasure of seeing a great deal of my money spent
upon myself, and, as I may say, had some of the spending it too. 'Come,
my dear,' says he to me one day, 'shall we go and take a turn into the
country for about a week?' 'Ay, my dear,' says I, 'whither would you go?'
'I care not whither,' says he, 'but I have a mind to look like quality for a
week. We'll go to Oxford,' says he. 'How,' says I, 'shall we go? I am no
horsewoman, and 'tis too far for a coach.' 'Too far!' says he; 'no place is
too far for a coach-and-six. If I carry you out, you shall travel like a
 54

duchess.' 'Hum,' says I, 'my dear, 'tis a frolic; but if you have a mind to it,
I don't care.' Well, the time was appointed, we had a rich coach, very
good horses, a coachman, postillion, and two footmen in very good
liveries; a gentleman on horseback, and a page with a feather in his hat
upon another horse. The servants all called him my lord, and the inn-
keepers, you may be sure, did the like, and I was her honour the
Countess, and thus we traveled to Oxford, and a very pleasant journey
we had; for, give him his due, not a beggar alive knew better how to be a
lord than my husband. We saw all the rarities at Oxford, talked with two
or three Fellows of colleges about putting out a young nephew, that was
left to his lordship's care, to the University, and of their being his tutors.
We diverted ourselves with bantering several other poor scholars, with
hopes of being at least his lordship's chaplains and putting on a scarf;
and thus having lived like quality indeed, as to expense, we went away
for Northampton, and, in a word, in about twelve days' ramble came
home again, to the tune of about #93 expense.

Vanity is the perfection of a fop. My husband had this excellence, that he

valued nothing of expense; and as his history, you may be sure, has very
little weight in it, 'tis enough to tell you that in about two years and a
quarter he broke, and was not so happy to get over into the Mint, but got
into a sponging-house, being arrested in an action too heavy from him to
give bail to, so he sent for me to come to him.

It was no surprise to me, for I had foreseen some time that all was going
to wreck, and had been taking care to reserve something if I could,
though it was not much, for myself. But when he sent for me, he behaved
much better than I expected, and told me plainly he had played the fool,
and suffered himself to be surprised, which he might have prevented;
that now he foresaw he could not stand it, and therefore he would have
me go home, and in the night take away everything I had in the house of
any value, and secure it; and after that, he told me that if I could get
away one hundred or two hundred pounds in goods out of the shop, I
should do it; 'only,' say she, 'let me know nothing of it, neither what you
take nor whither you carry it; for as for me,' says he, 'I am resolved to get
out of this house and be gone; and if you never hear of me more, my
dear,' says he, 'I wish you well; I am only sorry for the injury I have done
you.' He said some very handsome things to me indeed at parting; for I
told you he was a gentleman, and that was all the benefit I had of his
 55

being so; that he used me very handsomely and with good manners upon
all occasions, even to the last, only spent all I had, and left me to rob the
creditors for something to subsist on.

However, I did as he bade me, that you may be sure; and having thus
taken my leave of him, I never saw him more, for he found means to
break out of the bailiff's house that night or the next, and go over into
France, and for the rest of the creditors scrambled for it as well as they
could. How, I knew not, for I could come at no knowledge of anything,
more than this, that he came home about three o'clock in the morning,
caused the rest of his goods to be removed into the Mint, and the shop to
be shut up; and having raised what money he could get together, he got
over, as I said, to France, from whence I had one or two letters from him,
and no more. I did not see him when he came home, for he having given
me such instructions as above, and I having made the best of my time, I
had no more business back again at the house, not knowing but I might
have been stopped there by the creditors; for a commission of bankrupt
being soon after issued, they might have stopped me by orders from the
commissioners. But my husband, having so dexterously got out of the
bailiff's house by letting himself down in a most desperate manner from
almost the top of the house to the top of another building, and leaping
from thence, which was almost two storeys, and which was enough
indeed to have broken his neck, he came home and got away his goods
before the creditors could come to seize; that is to say, before they could
get out the commission, and be ready to send their officers to take
possession.

My husband was so civil to me, for still I say he was much of a

gentleman, that in the first letter he wrote me from France, he let me
know where he had pawned twenty pieces of fine holland for #30, which
were really worth #90, and enclosed me the token and an order for the
taking them up, paying the money, which I did, and made in time above
#100 of them, having leisure to cut them and sell them, some and some,
to private families, as opportunity offered.

However, with all this, and all that I had secured before, I found, upon
casting things up, my case was very much altered, any my fortune much
lessened; for, including the hollands and a parcel of fine muslins, which I
carried off before, and some plate, and other things, I found I could
 56

hardly muster up #500; and my condition was very odd, for though I had
no child (I had had one by my gentleman draper, but it was buried), yet I
was a widow bewitched; I had a husband and no husband, and I could
not pretend to marry again, though I knew well enough my husband
would never see England any more, if he lived fifty years. Thus, I say, I
was limited from marriage, what offer mightsoever be made me; and I
had not one friend to advise with in the condition I was in, lease not one
I durst trust the secret of my circumstances to, for if the commissioners
were to have been informed where I was, I should have been fetched up
and examined upon oath, and all I have saved be taken aware from me.

Upon these apprehensions, the first thing I did was to go quite out of my
knowledge, and go by another name. This I did effectually, for I went
into the Mint too, took lodgings in a very private place, dressed up in the
habit of a widow, and called myself Mrs. Flanders.

Here, however, I concealed myself, and though my new acquaintances

knew nothing of me, yet I soon got a great deal of company about me;
and whether it be that women are scarce among the sorts of people that
generally are to be found there, or that some consolations in the miseries
of the place are more requisite than on other occasions, I soon found an
agreeable woman was exceedingly valuable among the sons of affliction
there, and that those that wanted money to pay half a crown on the
pound to their creditors, and that run in debt at the sign of the Bull for
their dinners, would yet find money for a supper, if they liked the
woman.

However, I kept myself safe yet, though I began, like my Lord

Rochester's mistress, that loved his company, but would not admit him
farther, to have the scandal of a whore, without the joy; and upon this
score, tired with the place, and indeed with the company too, I began to
think of removing.

It was indeed a subject of strange reflection to me to see men who were

overwhelmed in perplexed circumstances, who were reduced some
degrees below being ruined, whose families were objects of their own
terror and other people's charity, yet while a penny lasted, nay, even
beyond it, endeavouring to drown themselves, labouring to forget former
things, which not it was the proper time to remember, making more
work for repentance, and sinning on, as a remedy for sin past.
 57

But it is none of my talent to preach; these men were too wicked, even
for me. There was something horrid and absurd in their way of sinning,
for it was all a force even upon themselves; they did not only act against
conscience, but against nature; they put a rape upon their temper to
drown the reflections, which their circumstances continually gave them;
and nothing was more easy than to see how sighs would interrupt their
songs, and paleness and anguish sit upon their brows, in spite of the
forced smiles they put on; nay, sometimes it would break out at their
very mouths when they had parted with their money for a lewd treat or a
wicked embrace. I have heard them, turning about, fetch a deep sigh,
and cry, 'What a dog am I! Well, Betty, my dear, I'll drink thy health,
though'; meaning the honest wife, that perhaps had not a half-crown for
herself and three or four children. The next morning they are at their
penitentials again; and perhaps the poor weeping wife comes over to
him, either brings him some account of what his creditors are doing, and
how she and the children are turned out of doors, or some other dreadful
news; and this adds to his self-reproaches; but when he has thought and
pored on it till he is almost mad, having no principles to support him,
nothing within him or above him to comfort him, but finding it all
darkness on every side, he flies to the same relief again, viz. to drink it
away, debauch it away, and falling into company of men in just the same
condition with himself, he repeats the crime, and thus he goes every day
one step onward of his way to destruction.

I was not wicked enough for such fellows as these yet. On the contrary, I
began to consider here very seriously what I had to do; how things stood
with me, and what course I ought to take. I knew I had no friends, no,
not one friend or relation in the world; and that little I had left
apparently wasted, which when it was gone, I saw nothing but misery
and starving was before me. Upon these considerations, I say, and filled
with horror at the place I was in, and the dreadful objects which I had
always before me, I resolved to be gone.

I had made an acquaintance with a very sober, good sort of a woman,

who was a widow too, like me, but in better circumstances. Her husband
had been a captain of a merchant ship, and having had the misfortune to
be cast away coming home on a voyage from the West Indies, which
would have been very profitable if he had come safe, was so reduced by
the loss, that though he had saved his life then, it broke his heart, and
 58

killed him afterwards; and his widow, being pursued by the creditors,
was forced to take shelter in the Mint. She soon made things up with the
help of friends, and was at liberty again; and finding that I rather was
there to be concealed, than by any particular prosecutions and finding
also that I agreed with her, or rather she with me, in a just abhorrence of
the place and of the company, she invited to go home with her till I could
put myself in some posture of settling in the world to my mind; withal
telling me, that it was ten to one but some good captain of a ship might
take a fancy to me, and court me, in that part of the town where she
lived.

I accepted her offer, and was with her half a year, and should have been
longer, but in that interval what she proposed to me happened to herself,
and she married very much to her advantage. But whose fortune soever
was upon the increase, mine seemed to be upon the wane, and I found
nothing present, except two or three boatswains, or such fellows, but as
for the commanders, they were generally of two sorts: 1. Such as, having
good business, that is to say, a good ship, resolved not to marry but with
advantage, that is, with a good fortune; 2. Such as, being out of employ,
wanted a wife to help them to a ship; I mean (1) a wife who, having some
money, could enable them to hold, as they call it, a good part of a ship
themselves, so to encourage owners to come in; or (2) a wife who, if she
had not money, had friends who were concerned in shipping, and so
could help to put the young man into a good ship, which to them is as
good as a portion; and neither of these was my case, so I looked like one
that was to lie on hand.

This knowledge I soon learned by experience, viz. that the state of things
was altered as to matrimony, and that I was not to expect at London
what I had found in the country: that marriages were here the
consequences of politic schemes for forming interests, and carrying on
business, and that Love had no share, or but very little, in the matter.

That as my sister-in-law at Colchester had said, beauty, wit, manners,

sense, good humour, good behaviour, education, virtue, piety, or any
other qualification, whether of body or mind, had no power to
recommend; that money only made a woman agreeable; that men chose
mistresses indeed by the gust of their affection, and it was requisite to a
whore to be handsome, well-shaped, have a good mien and a graceful
 59

behaviour; but that for a wife, no deformity would shock the fancy, no ill
qualities the judgment; the money was the thing; the portion was neither
crooked nor monstrous, but the money was always agreeable, whatever
the wife was.

On the other hand, as the market ran very unhappily on the men's side, I
found the women had lost the privilege of saying No; that it was a favour
now for a woman to have the Question asked, and if any young lady had
so much arrogance as to counterfeit a negative, she never had the
opportunity given her of denying twice, much less of recovering that false
step, and accepting what she had but seemed to decline. The men had
such choice everywhere, that the case of the women was very unhappy;
for they seemed to ply at every door, and if the man was by great chance
refused at one house, he was sure to be received at the next.

Besides this, I observed that the men made no scruple to set themselves
out, and to go a-fortune hunting, as they call it, when they had really no
fortune themselves to demand it, or merit to deserve it; and that they
carried it so high, that a woman was scarce allowed to inquire after the
character or estate of the person that pretended to her. This I had an
example of, in a young lady in the next house to me, and with whom I
had contracted an intimacy; she was courted by a young captain, and
though she had near #2000 to her fortune, she did but inquire of some
of his neighbours about his character, his morals, or substance, and he
took occasion at the next visit to let her know, truly, that he took it very
ill, and that he should not give her the trouble of his visits any more. I
heard of it, and I had begun my acquaintance with her, I went to see her
upon it. She entered into a close conversation with me about it, and
unbosomed herself very freely. I perceived presently that though she
thought herself very ill used, yet she had no power to resent it, and was
exceedingly piqued that she had lost him, and particularly that another
of less fortune had gained him.

I fortified her mind against such a meanness, as I called it; I told her,
that as low as I was in the world, I would have despised a man that
should think I ought to take him upon his own recommendation only,
without having the liberty to inform myself of his fortune and of his
character; also I told her, that as she had a good fortune, she had no need
to stoop to the disaster of the time; that it was enough that the men could
 60

insult us that had but little money to recommend us, but if she suffered
such an affront to pass upon her without resenting it, she would be
rendered low-prized upon all occasions, and would be the contempt of all
the women in that part of the town; that a woman can never want an
opportunity to be revenged of a man that has used her ill, and that there
were ways enough to humble such a fellow as that, or else certainly
women were the most unhappy creatures in the world.

I found she was very well pleased with the discourse, and she told me
seriously that she would be very glad to make him sensible of her just
resentment, and either to bring him on again, or have the satisfaction of
her revenge being as public as possible.

I told her, that if she would take my advice, I would tell her how she
should obtain her wishes in both those things, and that I would engage I
would bring the man to her door again, and make him beg to be let in.
She smiled at that, and soon let me see, that if he came to her door, her
resentment was not so great as to give her leave to let him stand long
there. However, she listened very willingly to my offer of advice; so I told
her that the first thing she ought to do was a piece of justice to herself,
namely, that whereas she had been told by several people that he had
reported among the ladies that he had left her, and pretended to give the
advantage of the negative to himself, she should take care to have it well
spread among the women--which she could not fail of an opportunity to
do in a neighbourhood so addicted to family news as that she live in was-
-that she had inquired into his circumstances, and found he was not the
man as to estate he pretended to be. 'Let them be told, madam,' said I,
'that you had been well informed that he was not the man that you
expected, and that you thought it was not safe to meddle with him; that
you heard he was of an ill temper, and that he boasted how he had used
the women ill upon many occasions, and that particularly he was
debauched in his morals', etc. The last of which, indeed, had some truth
in it; but at the same time I did not find that she seemed to like him
much the worse for that part.

As I had put this into her head, she came most readily into it.
Immediately she went to work to find instruments, and she had very
little difficulty in the search, for telling her story in general to a couple of
gossips in the neighbourhood, it was the chat of the tea-table all over that
 61

part of the town, and I met with it wherever I visited; also, as it was
known that I was acquainted with the young lady herself, my opinion
was asked very often, and I confirmed it with all the necessary
aggravations, and set out his character in the blackest colours; but then
as a piece of secret intelligence, I added, as what the other gossips knew
nothing of, viz. that I had heard he was in very bad circumstances; that
he was under a necessity of a fortune to support his interest with the
owners of the ship he commanded; that his own part was not paid for,
and if it was not paid quickly, his owners would put him out of the ship,
and his chief mate was likely to command it, who offered to buy that part
which the captain had promised to take.

I added, for I confess I was heartily piqued at the rogue, as I called him,
that I had heard a rumour, too, that he had a wife alive at Plymouth, and
another in the West Indies, a thing which they all knew was not very
uncommon for such kind of gentlemen.

This worked as we both desire it, for presently the young lady next door,
who had a father and mother that governed both her and her fortune,
was shut up, and her father forbid him the house. Also in one place more
where he went, the woman had the courage, however strange it was, to
say No; and he could try nowhere but he was reproached with his pride,
and that he pretended not to give the women leave to inquire into his
character, and the like.

Well, by this time he began to be sensible of his mistake; and having

alarmed all the women on that side of the water, he went over to Ratcliff,
and got access to some of the ladies there; but though the young women
there too were, according to the fate of the day, pretty willing to be
asked, yet such was his ill-luck, that his character followed him over the
water and his good name was much the same there as it was on our side;
so that though he might have had wives enough, yet it did not happen
among the women that had good fortunes, which was what he wanted.

But this was not all; she very ingeniously managed another thing herself,
for she got a young gentleman, who as a relation, and was indeed a
married man, to come and visit her two or three times a week in a very
fine chariot and good liveries, and her two agents, and I also, presently
spread a report all over, that this gentleman came to court her; that he
was a gentleman of a #1000 a year, and that he was fallen in love with
 62

her, and that she was going to her aunt's in the city, because it was
inconvenient for the gentleman to come to her with his coach in Redriff,
the streets being so narrow and difficult.

This took immediately. The captain was laughed at in all companies, and
was ready to hang himself. He tried all the ways possible to come at her
again, and wrote the most passionate letters to her in the world, excusing
his former rashness; and in short, by great application, obtained leave to
wait on her again, as he said, to clear his reputation.

At this meeting she had her full revenge of him; for she told him she
wondered what he took her to be, that she should admit any man to a
treaty of so much consequence as that to marriage, without inquiring
very well into his circumstances; that if he thought she was to be huffed
into wedlock, and that she was in the same circumstances which her
neighbours might be in, viz. to take up with the first good Christian that
came, he was mistaken; that, in a word, his character was really bad, or
he was very ill beholden to his neighbours; and that unless he could clear
up some points, in which she had justly been prejudiced, she had no
more to say to him, but to do herself justice, and give him the satisfaction
of knowing that she was not afraid to say No, either to him or any man
else.

With that she told him what she had heard, or rather raised herself by
my means, of his character; his not having paid for the part he pretended
to own of the ship he commanded; of the resolution of his owners to put
him out of the command, and to put his mate in his stead; and of the
scandal raised on his morals; his having been reproached with such-and-
such women, and having a wife at Plymouth and in the West Indies, and
the like; and she asked him whether he could deny that she had good
reason, if these things were not cleared up, to refuse him, and in the
meantime to insist upon having satisfaction in points to significant as
they were.

He was so confounded at her discourse that he could not answer a word,

and she almost began to believe that all was true, by his disorder, though
at the same time she knew that she had been the raiser of all those
reports herself.
 63

After some time he recovered himself a little, and from that time became
the most humble, the most modest, and most importunate man alive in
his courtship.

She carried her jest on a great way. She asked him, if he thought she was
so at her last shift that she could or ought to bear such treatment, and if
he did not see that she did not want those who thought it worth their
while to come farther to her than he did; meaning the gentleman whom
she had brought to visit her by way of sham.

She brought him by these tricks to submit to all possible measures to

satisfy her, as well of his circumstances as of his behaviour. He brought
her undeniable evidence of his having paid for his part of the ship; he
brought her certificates from his owners, that the report of their
intending to remove him from the command of the ship and put his chief
mate in was false and groundless; in short, he was quite the reverse of
what he was before.

Thus I convinced her, that if the men made their advantage of our sex in
the affair of marriage, upon the supposition of there being such choice to
be had, and of the women being so easy, it was only owing to this, that
the women wanted courage to maintain their ground and to play their
part; and that, according to my Lord Rochester,

'A woman's ne'er so ruined but she can Revenge herself on her undoer,
Man.'

After these things this young lady played her part so well, that though
she resolved to have him, and that indeed having him was the main bent
of her design, yet she made his obtaining her be to him the most difficult
thing in the world; and this she did, not by a haughty reserved carriage,
but by a just policy, turning the tables upon him, and playing back upon
him his own game; for as he pretended, by a kind of lofty carriage, to
place himself above the occasion of a character, and to make inquiring
into his character a kind of an affront to him, she broke with him upon
that subject, and at the same time that she make him submit to all
possible inquiry after his affairs, she apparently shut the door against his
looking into her own.

It was enough to him to obtain her for a wife. As to what she had, she
told him plainly, that as he knew her circumstances, it was but just she
 64

should know his; and though at the same time he had only known her
circumstances by common fame, yet he had made so many protestations
of his passion for her, that he could ask no more but her hand to his
grand request, and the like ramble according to the custom of lovers. In
short, he left himself no room to ask any more questions about her
estate, and she took the advantage of it like a prudent woman, for she
placed part of her fortune so in trustees, without letting him know
anything of it, that it was quite out of his reach, and made him be very
well content with the rest.

It is true she was pretty well besides, that is to say, she had about #1400
in money, which she gave him; and the other, after some time, she
brought to light as a perquisite to herself, which he was to accept as a
mighty favour, seeing though it was not to be his, it might ease him in
the article of her particular expenses; and I must add, that by this
conduct the gentleman himself became not only the more humble in his
applications to her to obtain her, but also was much the more an obliging
husband to her when he had her. I cannot but remind the ladies here
how much they place themselves below the common station of a wife,
which, if I may be allowed not to be partial, is low enough already; I say,
they place themselves below their common station, and prepare their
own mortifications, by their submitting so to be insulted by the men
beforehand, which I confess I see no necessity of.

This relation may serve, therefore, to let the ladies see that the advantage
is not so much on the other side as the men think it is; and though it may
be true that the men have but too much choice among us, and that some
women may be found who will dishonour themselves, be cheap, and easy
to come at, and will scarce wait to be asked, yet if they will have women,
as I may say, worth having, they may find them as uncomeatable as ever
and that those that are otherwise are a sort of people that have such
deficiencies, when had, as rather recommend the ladies that are difficult
than encourage the men to go on with their easy courtship, and expect
wives equally valuable that will come at first call.

Nothing is more certain than that the ladies always gain of the men by
keeping their ground, and letting their pretended lovers see they can
resent being slighted, and that they are not afraid of saying No. They, I
observe, insult us mightily with telling us of the number of women; that
 65

the wars, and the sea, and trade, and other incidents have carried the
men so much away, that there is no proportion between the numbers of
the sexes, and therefore the women have the disadvantage; but I am far
from granting that the number of women is so great, or the number of
men so small; but if they will have me tell the truth, the disadvantage of
the women is a terrible scandal upon the men, and it lies here, and here
only; namely, that the age is so wicked, and the sex so debauched, that,
in short, the number of such men as an honest woman ought to meddle
with is small indeed, and it is but here and there that a man is to be
found who is fit for a woman to venture upon.

But the consequence even of that too amounts to no more than this, that
women ought to be the more nice; for how do we know the just character
of the man that makes the offer? To say that the woman should be the
more easy on this occasion, is to say we should be the forwarder to
venture because of the greatness of the danger, which, in my way of
reasoning, is very absurd. On the contrary, the women have ten
thousand times the more reason to be wary and backward, by how much
the hazard of being betrayed is the greater; and would the ladies consider
this, and act the wary part, they would discover every cheat that offered;
for, in short, the lives of very few men nowadays will bear a character;
and if the ladies do but make a little inquiry, they will soon be able to
distinguish the men and deliver themselves. As for women that do not
think they own safety worth their though, that, impatient of their perfect
state, resolve, as they call it, to take the first good Christian that comes,
that run into matrimony as a horse rushes into the battle, I can say
nothing to them but this, that they are a sort of ladies that are to be
prayed for among the rest of distempered people, and to me they look
like people that venture their whole estates in a lottery where there is a
hundred thousand blanks to one prize.

No man of common-sense will value a woman the less for not giving up
herself at the first attack, or for accepting his proposal without inquiring
into his person or character; on the contrary, he must think her the
weakest of all creatures in the world, as the rate of men now goes. In
short, he must have a very contemptible opinion of her capacities, nay,
every of her understanding, that, having but one case of her life, shall call
that life away at once, and make matrimony, like death, be a leap in the
dark.
 66

I would fain have the conduct of my sex a little regulated in this

particular, which is the thing in which, of all the parts of life, I think at
this time we suffer most in; 'tis nothing but lack of courage, the fear of
not being married at all, and of that frightful state of life called an old
maid, of which I have a story to tell by itself. This, I say, is the woman's
snare; but would the ladies once but get above that fear and manage
rightly, they would more certainly avoid it by standing their ground, in a
case so absolutely necessary to their felicity, that by exposing themselves
as they do; and if they did not marry so soon as they may do otherwise,
they would make themselves amends by marrying safer. She is always
married too soon who gets a bad husband, and she is never married too
late who gets a good one; in a word, there is no woman, deformity or lost
reputation excepted, but if she manages well, may be married safely one
time or other; but if she precipitates herself, it is ten thousand to one but
she is undone.

But I come now to my own case, in which there was at this time no little
nicety. The circumstances I was in made the offer of a good husband the
most necessary thing in the world to me, but I found soon that to be
made cheap and easy was not the way. It soon began to be found that the
widow had no fortune, and to say this was to say all that was ill of me, for
I began to be dropped in all the discourses of matrimony. Being well-
bred, handsome, witty, modest, and agreeable; all which I had allowed to
my character--whether justly or no is not the purpose--I say, all these
would not do without the dross, which way now become more valuable
than virtue itself. In short, the widow, they said, had no money.

I resolved, therefore, as to the state of my present circumstances, that it

was absolutely necessary to change my station, and make a new
appearance in some other place where I was not known, and even to pass
by another name if I found occasion.

I communicated my thoughts to my intimate friend, the captain's lady,

whom I had so faithfully served in her case with the captain, and who
was as ready to serve me in the same kind as I could desire. I made no
scruple to lay my circumstances open to her; my stock was but low, for I
had made but about #540 at the close of my last affair, and I had wasted
some of that; however, I had about #460 left, a great many very rich
 67

clothes, a gold watch, and some jewels, though of no extraordinary value,

and about #30 or #40 left in linen not disposed of.

My dear and faithful friend, the captain's wife, was so sensible of the
service I had done her in the affair above, that she was not only a steady
friend to me, but, knowing my circumstances, she frequently made me
presents as money came into her hands, such as fully amounted to a
maintenance, so that I spent none of my own; and at last she made this
unhappy proposal to me, viz. that as we had observed, as above, how the
men made no scruple to set themselves out as persons meriting a woman
of fortune, when they had really no fortune of their own, it was but just
to deal with them in their own way and, if it was possible, to deceive the
deceiver.

The captain's lady, in short, put this project into my head, and told me if
I would be ruled by her I should certainly get a husband of fortune,
without leaving him any room to reproach me with want of my own. I
told her, as I had reason to do, that I would give up myself wholly to her
directions, and that I would have neither tongue to speak nor feet to step
in that affair but as she should direct me, depending that she would
extricate me out of every difficulty she brought me into, which she said
she would answer for.

The first step she put me upon was to call her cousin, and to a relation's
house of hers in the country, where she directed me, and where she
brought her husband to visit me; and calling me cousin, she worked
matters so about, that her husband and she together invited me most
passionately to come to town and be with them, for they now live in a
quite different place from where they were before. In the next place, she
tells her husband that I had at least #1500 fortune, and that after some
of my relations I was like to have a great deal more.

It was enough to tell her husband this; there needed nothing on my side.
I was but to sit still and wait the event, for it presently went all over the
neighbourhood that the young widow at Captain ----'s was a fortune, that
she had at least #1500, and perhaps a great deal more, and that the
captain said so; and if the captain was asked at any time about me, he
made no scruple to affirm it, though he knew not one word of the matter,
other than that his wife had told him so; and in this he thought no harm,
for he really believed it to be so, because he had it from his wife: so
 68

slender a foundation will those fellows build upon, if they do but think
there is a fortune in the game. With the reputation of this fortune, I
presently found myself blessed with admirers enough, and that I had my
choice of men, as scarce as they said they were, which, by the way,
confirms what I was saying before. This being my case, I, who had a
subtle game to play, had nothing now to do but to single out from them
all the properest man that might be for my purpose; that is to say, the
man who was most likely to depend upon the hearsay of a fortune, and
not inquire too far into the particulars; and unless I did this I did
nothing, for my case would not bear much inquiry.

I picked out my man without much difficulty, by the judgment I made of

his way of courting me. I had let him run on with his protestations and
oaths that he loved me above all the world; that if I would make him
happy, that was enough; all which I knew was upon supposition, nay, it
was upon a full satisfaction, that I was very rich, though I never told him
a word of it myself.

This was my man; but I was to try him to the bottom, and indeed in that
consisted my safety; for if he baulked, I knew I was undone, as surely as
he was undone if he took me; and if I did not make some scruple about
his fortune, it was the way to lead him to raise some about mine; and
first, therefore, I pretended on all occasions to doubt his sincerity, and
told him, perhaps he only courted me for my fortune. He stopped my
mouth in that part with the thunder of his protestations, as above, but
still I pretended to doubt.

One morning he pulls off his diamond ring, and writes upon the glass of
the sash in my chamber this line- 'You I love, and you alone.'

I read it, and asked him to lend me his ring, with which I wrote under it,
thus-
'And so in love says every one.'

He takes his ring again, and writes another line thus 'Virtue alone is an
estate.'

I borrowed it again, and I wrote under it 'But money's virtue, gold is

fate.'
 69

He coloured as red as fire to see me turn so quick upon him, and in a

kind of a rage told me he would conquer me, and writes again thus 'I
scorn your gold, and yet I love.'

I ventured all upon the last cast of poetry, as you'll see, for I wrote boldly
under his last 'I'm poor: let's see how kind you'll prove.'

This was a sad truth to me; whether he believed me or no, I could not
tell; I supposed then that he did not. However, he flew to me, took me in
his arms, and, kissing me very eagerly, and with the greatest passion
imaginable, he held me fast till he called for a pen and ink, and then told
me he could not wait the tedious writing on the glass, but, pulling out a
piece of paper, he began and wrote again-
'Be mine, with all your poverty.'

I took his pen, and followed him immediately, thus 'Yet secretly you hope
I lie.'

He told me that was unkind, because it was not just, and that I put him
upon contradicting me, which did not consist with good manners, any
more than with his affection; and therefore, since I had insensibly drawn
him into this poetical scribble, he begged I would not oblige him to break
it off; so he writes again 'Let love alone be our debate.'

I wrote again-
'She loves enough that does not hate.'

This he took for a favour, and so laid down the cudgels, that is to say, the
pen; I say, he took if for a favour, and a mighty one it was, if he had
known all. However, he took it as I meant it, that is, to let him think I
was inclined to go on with him, as indeed I had all the reason in the
world to do, for he was the best-humoured, merry sort of a fellow that I
ever met with, and I often reflected on myself how doubly criminal it was
to deceive such a man; but that necessity, which pressed me to a
settlement suitable to my condition, was my authority for it; and
certainly his affection to me, and the goodness of his temper, however
they might argue against using him ill, yet they strongly argued to me
that he would better take the disappointment than some fiery-tempered
wretch, who might have nothing to recommend him but those passions
which would serve only to make a woman miserable all her days.
 70

Besides, though I jested with him (as he supposed it) so often about my
poverty, yet, when he found it to be true, he had foreclosed all manner of
objection, seeing, whether he was in jest or in earnest, he had declared
he took me without any regard to my portion, and, whether I was in jest
or in earnest, I had declared myself to be very poor; so that, in a word, I
had him fast both ways; and though he might say afterwards he was
cheated, yet he could never say that I had cheated him.

He pursued me close after this, and as I saw there was no need to fear
losing him, I played the indifferent part with him longer than prudence
might otherwise have dictated to me. But I considered how much this
caution and indifference would give me the advantage over him, when I
should come to be under the necessity of owning my own circumstances
to him; and I managed it the more warily, because I found he inferred
from thence, as indeed he ought to do, that I either had the more money
or the more judgment, and would not venture at all.

I took the freedom one day, after we had talked pretty close to the
subject, to tell him that it was true I had received the compliment of a
lover from him, namely, that he would take me without inquiring into
my fortune, and I would make him a suitable return in this, viz. that I
would make as little inquiry into his as consisted with reason, but I
hoped he would allow me to ask a few questions, which he would answer
or not as he thought fit; and that I would not be offended if he did not
answer me at all; one of these questions related to our manner of living,
and the place where, because I had heard he had a great plantation in
Virginia, and that he had talked of going to live there, and I told him I
did not care to be transported.

He began from this discourse to let me voluntarily into all his affairs, and
to tell me in a frank, open way all his circumstances, by which I found he
was very well to pass in the world; but that great part of his estate
consisted of three plantations, which he had in Virginia, which brought
him in a very good income, generally speaking, to the tune of #300, a
year, but that if he was to live upon them, would bring him in four times
as much. 'Very well,' thought I; 'you shall carry me thither as soon as you
please, though I won't tell you so beforehand.'

I jested with him extremely about the figure he would make in Virginia;
but I found he would do anything I desired, though he did not seem glad
 71

to have me undervalue his plantations, so I turned my tale. I told him I

had good reason not to go there to live, because if his plantations were
worth so much there, I had not a fortune suitable to a gentleman of
#1200 a year, as he said his estate would be.

He replied generously, he did not ask what my fortune was; he had told
me from the beginning he would not, and he would be as good as his
word; but whatever it was, he assured me he would never desire me to go
to Virginia with him, or go thither himself without me, unless I was
perfectly willing, and made it my choice.

All this, you may be sure, was as I wished, and indeed nothing could have
happened more perfectly agreeable. I carried it on as far as this with a
sort of indifferency that he often wondered at, more than at first, but
which was the only support of his courtship; and I mention it the rather
to intimate again to the ladies that nothing but want of courage for such
an indifferency makes our sex so cheap, and prepares them to be ill-used
as they are; would they venture the loss of a pretending fop now and
then, who carries it high upon the point of his own merit, they would
certainly be less slighted, and courted more. Had I discovered really and
truly what my great fortune was, and that in all I had not full #500 when
he expected #1500, yet I had hooked him so fast, and played him so long,
that I was satisfied he would have had me in my worst circumstances;
and indeed it was less a surprise to him when he learned the truth than it
would have been, because having not the least blame to lay on me, who
had carried it with an air of indifference to the last, he would not say one
word, except that indeed he thought it had been more, but that if it had
been less he did not repent his bargain; only that he should not be able to
maintain me so well as he intended.

In short, we were married, and very happily married on my side, I assure

you, as to the man; for he was the best-humoured man that every woman
had, but his circumstances were not so good as I imagined, as, on the
other hand, he had not bettered himself by marrying so much as he
expected.

When we were married, I was shrewdly put to it to bring him that little
stock I had, and to let him see it was no more; but there was a necessity
for it, so I took my opportunity one day when we were alone, to enter
into a short dialogue with him about it. 'My dear,' said I, 'we have been
 72

married a fortnight; is it not time to let you know whether you have got a
wife with something or with nothing?' 'Your own time for that, my dear,'
says he; 'I am satisfied that I have got the wife I love; I have not troubled
you much,' says he, 'with my inquiry after it.'

'That's true,' says I, 'but I have a great difficulty upon me about it, which
I scarce know how to manage.'

'What's that, m dear?' says he.

'Why,' says I, ''tis a little hard upon me, and 'tis harder upon you. I am
told that Captain ----' (meaning my friend's husband) 'has told you I had
a great deal more money than I ever pretended to have, and I am sure I
never employed him to do so.'

'Well,' says he, 'Captain ---may have told me so, but what then? If you
have not so much, that may lie at his door, but you never told me what
you had, so I have no reason to blame you if you have nothing at all.'

'That's is so just,' said I, 'and so generous, that it makes my having but a

little a double affliction to me.'

'The less you have, my dear,' says he, 'the worse for us both; but I hope
your affliction you speak of is not caused for fear I should be unkind to
you, for want of a portion. No, no, if you have nothing, tell me plainly,
and at once; I may perhaps tell the captain he has cheated me, but I can
never say you have cheated me, for did you not give it under your hand
that you were poor? and so I ought to expect you to be.'

'Well,' said I, 'my dear, I am glad I have not been concerned in deceiving
you before marriage. If I deceive you since, 'tis ne'er the worse; that I am
poor is too true, but not so poor as to have nothing neither'; so I pulled
out some bank bills, and gave him about #160. 'There's something, my
dear,' said I, 'and not quite all neither.'

I had brought him so near to expecting nothing, by what I had said

before, that the money, though the sum was small in itself, was doubly
welcome to him; he owned it was more than he looked for, and that he
did not question by my discourse to him, but that my fine clothes, gold
watch, and a diamond ring or two, had been all my fortune.
 73

I let him please himself with that #160 two or three days, and then,
having been abroad that day, and as if I had been to fetch it, I brought
him #100 more home in gold, and told him there was a little more
portion for him; and, in short, in about a week more I brought him #180
more, and about #60 in linen, which I made him believe I had been
obliged to take with the #100 which I gave him in gold, as a composition
for a debt of #600, being little more than five shillings in the pound, and
overvalued too.

'And now, my dear,' says I to him, 'I am very sorry to tell you, that there
is all, and that I have given you my whole fortune.' I added, that if the
person who had my #600 had not abused me, I had been worth #1000 to
him, but that as it was, I had been faithful to him, and reserved nothing
to myself, but if it had been more he should have had it.

He was so obliged by the manner, and so pleased with the sum, for he
had been in a terrible fright lest it had been nothing at all, that he
accepted it very thankfully. And thus I got over the fraud of passing for a
fortune without money, and cheating a man into marrying me on
pretence of a fortune; which, by the way, I take to be one of the most
dangerous steps a woman can take, and in which she runs the most
hazard of being ill-used afterwards.

My husband, to give him his due, was a man of infinite good nature, but
he was no fool; and finding his income not suited to the manner of living
which he had intended, if I had brought him what he expected, and being
under a disappointment in his return of his plantations in Virginia, he
discovered many times his inclination of going over to Virginia, to live
upon his own; and often would be magnifying the way of living there,
how cheap, how plentiful, how pleasant, and the like.

I began presently to understand this meaning, and I took him up very

plainly one morning, and told him that I did so; that I found his estate
turned to no account at this distance, compared to what it would do if he
lived upon the spot, and that I found he had a mind to go and live there;
and I added, that I was sensible he had been disappointed in a wife, and
that finding his expectations not answered that way, I could do no less,
to make him amends, than tell him that I was very willing to go over to
Virginia with him and live there.
 74

He said a thousand kind things to me upon the subject of my making

such a proposal to him. He told me, that however he was disappointed in
his expectations of a fortune, he was not disappointed in a wife, and that
I was all to him that a wife could be, and he was more than satisfied on
the whole when the particulars were put together, but that this offer was
so kind, that it was more than he could express.

To bring the story short, we agreed to go. He told me that he had a very
good house there, that it was well furnished, that his mother was alive
and lived in it, and one sister, which was all the relations he had; that as
soon as he came there, his mother would remove to another house,
which was her own for life, and his after her decease; so that I should
have all the house to myself; and I found all this to be exactly as he had
said.

To make this part of the story short, we put on board the ship which we
went in, a large quantity of good furniture for our house, with stores of
linen and other necessaries, and a good cargo for sale, and away we went.

To give an account of the manner of our voyage, which was long and full
of dangers, is out of my way; I kept no journal, neither did my husband.
All that I can say is, that after a terrible passage, frighted twice with
dreadful storms, and once with what was still more terrible, I mean a
pirate who came on board and took away almost all our provisions; and
which would have been beyond all to me, they had once taken my
husband to go along with them, but by entreaties were prevailed with to
leave him;--I say, after all these terrible things, we arrived in York River
in Virginia, and coming to our plantation, we were received with all the
demonstrations of tenderness and affection, by my husband's mother,
that were possible to be expressed.

We lived here all together, my mother-in-law, at my entreaty, continuing

in the house, for she was too kind a mother to be parted with; my
husband likewise continued the same as at first, and I thought myself the
happiest creature alive, when an odd and surprising event put an end to
all that felicity in a moment, and rendered my condition the most
uncomfortable, if not the most miserable, in the world.

My mother was a mighty cheerful, good-humoured old woman --I may

call her old woman, for her son was above thirty; I say she was very
 75

pleasant, good company, and used to entertain me, in particular, with

abundance of stories to divert me, as well of the country we were in as of
the people.

Among the rest, she often told me how the greatest part of the
inhabitants of the colony came thither in very indifferent circumstances
from England; that, generally speaking, they were of two sorts; either,
first, such as were brought over by masters of ships to be sold as
servants. 'Such as we call them, my dear,' says she, 'but they are more
properly called slaves.' Or, secondly, such as are transported from
Newgate and other prisons, after having been found guilty of felony and
other crimes punishable with death.
 76

CHAPTER 5

When they come here,' says she, 'we make no difference; the planters buy
them, and they work together in the field till their time is out. When 'tis
expired,' said she, 'they have encouragement given them to plant for
themselves; for they have a certain number of acres of land allotted them
by the country, and they go to work to clear and cure the land, and then
to plant it with tobacco and corn for their own use; and as the tradesmen
and merchants will trust them with tools and clothes and other
necessaries, upon the credit of their crop before it is grown, so they again
plant every year a little more than the year before, and so buy whatever
they want with the crop that is before them.

'Hence, child,' says she, 'man a Newgate-bird becomes a great man, and
we have,' continued she, 'several justices of the peace, officers of the
trained bands, and magistrates of the towns they live in, that have been
burnt in the hand.'

She was going on with that part of the story, when her own part in it
interrupted her, and with a great deal of good-humoured confidence she
told me she was one of the second sort of inhabitants herself; that she
came away openly, having ventured too far in a particular case, so that
she was become a criminal. 'And here's the mark of it, child,' says she;
and, pulling off her glove, 'look ye here,' says she, turning up the palm of
her hand, and showed me a very fine white arm and hand, but branded
in the inside of the hand, as in such cases it must be.

This story was very moving to me, but my mother, smiling, said, 'You
need not thing a thing strange, daughter, for as I told you, some of the
best men in this country are burnt in the hand, and they are not ashamed
to own it. There's Major ----,' says she, 'he was an eminent pickpocket;
there's Justice Ba----r, was a shoplifter, and both of them were burnt in
the hand; and I could name you several such as they are.'

We had frequent discourses of this kind, and abundance of instances she

gave me of the like. After some time, as she was telling some stories of
one that was transported but a few weeks ago, I began in an intimate
kind of way to ask her to tell me something of her own story, which she
 77

did with the utmost plainness and sincerity; how she had fallen into very
ill company in London in her young days, occasioned by her mother
sending her frequently to carry victuals and other relief to a kinswoman
of hers who was a prisoner in Newgate, and who lay in a miserable
starving condition, was afterwards condemned to be hanged, but having
got respite by pleading her belly, dies afterwards in the prison.

Here my mother-in-law ran out in a long account of the wicked practices

in that dreadful place, and how it ruined more young people that all the
town besides. 'And child,' says my mother, 'perhaps you may know little
of it, or, it may be, have heard nothing about it; but depend upon it,' says
she, 'we all know here that there are more thieves and rogues made by
that one prison of Newgate than by all the clubs and societies of villains
in the nation; 'tis that cursed place,' says my mother, 'that half peopled
this colony.'

Here she went on with her own story so long, and in so particular a
manner, that I began to be very uneasy; but coming to one particular
that required telling her name, I thought I should have sunk down in the
place. She perceived I was out of order, and asked me if I was not well,
and what ailed me. I told her I was so affected with the melancholy story
she had told, and the terrible things she had gone through, that it had
overcome me, and I begged of her to talk no more of it. 'Why, my dear,'
says she very kindly, 'what need these things trouble you? These
passages were long before your time, and they give me no trouble at all
now; nay, I look back on them with a particular satisfaction, as they have
been a means to bring me to this place.' Then she went on to tell me how
she very luckily fell into a good family, where, behaving herself well, and
her mistress dying, her master married her, by whom she had my
husband and his sister, and that by her diligence and good management
after her husband's death, she had improved the plantations to such a
degree as they then were, so that most of the estate was of her getting,
not her husband's, for she had been a widow upwards of sixteen years.

I heard this part of the story with very little attention, because I wanted
much to retire and give vent to my passions, which I did soon after; and
let any one judge what must be the anguish of my mind, when I came to
reflect that this was certainly no more or less than my own mother, and I
 78

had now had two children, and was big with another by my own brother,
and lay with him still every night.

I was now the most unhappy of all women in the world. Oh! had the
story never been told me, all had been well; it had been no crime to have
lain with my husband, since as to his being my relation I had known
nothing of it.

I had now such a load on my mind that it kept me perpetually waking; to

reveal it, which would have been some ease to me, I could not find would
be to any purpose, and yet to conceal it would be next to impossible; nay,
I did not doubt but I should talk of it in my sleep, and tell my husband of
it whether I would or no. If I discovered it, the least thing I could expect
was to lose my husband, for he was too nice and too honest a man to
have continued my husband after he had known I had been his sister; so
that I was perplexed to the last degree.

I leave it to any man to judge what difficulties presented to my view. I

was away from my native country, at a distance prodigious, and the
return to me unpassable. I lived very well, but in a circumstance
insufferable in itself. If I had discovered myself to my mother, it might be
difficult to convince her of the particulars, and I had no way to prove
them. On the other hand, if she had questioned or doubted me, I had
been undone, for the bare suggestion would have immediately separated
me from my husband, without gaining my mother or him, who would
have been neither a husband nor a brother; so that between the surprise
on one hand, and the uncertainty on the other, I had been sure to be
undone.

In the meantime, as I was but too sure of the fact, I lived therefore in
open avowed incest and whoredom, and all under the appearance of an
honest wife; and though I was not much touched with the crime of it, yet
the action had something in it shocking to nature, and made my
husband, as he thought himself, even nauseous to me.

However, upon the most sedate consideration, I resolved that it was

absolutely necessary to conceal it all and not make the least discovery of
it either to mother or husband; and thus I lived with the greatest
pressure imaginable for three years more, but had no more children.
 79

During this time my mother used to be frequently telling me old stories

of her former adventures, which, however, were no ways pleasant to me;
for by it, though she did not tell it me in plain terms, yet I could easily
understand, joined with what I had heard myself, of my first tutors, that
in her younger days she had been both whore and thief; but I verily
believed she had lived to repent sincerely of both, and that she was then
a very pious, sober, and religious woman.

Well, let her life have been what it would then, it was certain that my life
was very uneasy to me; for I lived, as I have said, but in the worst sort of
whoredom, and as I could expect no good of it, so really no good issue
came of it, and all my seeming prosperity wore off, and ended in misery
and destruction. It was some time, indeed, before it came to this, for, but
I know not by what ill fate guided, everything went wrong with us
afterwards, and that which was worse, my husband grew strangely
altered, forward, jealous, and unkind, and I was as impatient of bearing
his carriage, as the carriage was unreasonable and unjust. These things
proceeded so far, that we came at last to be in such ill terms with one
another, that I claimed a promise of him, which he entered willingly into
with me when I consented to come from England with him, viz. that if I
found the country not to agree with me, or that I did not like to live
there, I should come away to England again when I pleased, giving him a
year's warning to settle his affairs.

I say, I now claimed this promise of him, and I must confess I did it not
in the most obliging terms that could be in the world neither; but I
insisted that he treated me ill, that I was remote from my friends, and
could do myself no justice, and that he was jealous without cause, my
conversation having been unblamable, and he having no pretense for it,
and that to remove to England would take away all occasion from him.

I insisted so peremptorily upon it, that he could not avoid coming to a

point, either to keep his word with me or to break it; and this,
notwithstanding he used all the skill he was master of, and employed his
mother and other agents to prevail with me to alter my resolutions;
indeed, the bottom of the thing lay at my heart, and that made all his
endeavours fruitless, for my heart was alienated from him as a husband.
I loathed the thoughts of bedding with him, and used a thousand
pretenses of illness and humour to prevent his touching me, fearing
 80

nothing more than to be with child by him, which to be sure would have
prevented, or at least delayed, my going over to England.

However, at last I put him so out of humour, that he took up a rash and
fatal resolution; in short, I should not go to England; and though he had
promised me, yet it was an unreasonable thing for me to desire it; that it
would be ruinous to his affairs, would unhinge his whole family, and be
next to an undoing him in the world; that therefore I ought not to desire
it of him, and that no wife in the world that valued her family and her
husband's prosperity would insist upon such a thing.

This plunged me again, for when I considered the thing calmly, and took
my husband as he really was, a diligent, careful man in the main work of
laying up an estate for his children, and that he knew nothing of the
dreadful circumstances that he was in, I could not but confess to myself
that my proposal was very unreasonable, and what no wife that had the
good of her family at heart would have desired.

But my discontents were of another nature; I looked upon him no longer

as a husband, but as a near relation, the son of my own mother, and I
resolved somehow or other to be clear of him, but which way I did not
know, nor did it seem possible.

It is said by the ill-natured world, of our sex, that if we are set on a thing,
it is impossible to turn us from our resolutions; in short, I never ceased
poring upon the means to bring to pass my voyage, and came that length
with my husband at last, as to propose going without him. This provoked
him to the last degree, and he called me not only an unkind wife, but an
unnatural mother, and asked me how I could entertain such a thought
without horror, as that of leaving my two children (for one was dead)
without a mother, and to be brought up by strangers, and never to see
them more. It was true, had things been right, I should not have done it,
but now it was my real desire never to see them, or him either, any more;
and as to the charge of unnatural, I could easily answer it to myself,
while I knew that the whole relation was unnatural in the highest degree
in the world.

However, it was plain there was no bringing my husband to anything; he

would neither go with me nor let me go without him, and it was quite out
 81

of my power to stir without his consent, as any one that knows the
constitution of the country I was in, knows very well.

We had many family quarrels about it, and they began in time to grow up
to a dangerous height; for as I was quite estranged from my husband (as
he was called) in affection, so I took no heed to my words, but sometimes
gave him language that was provoking; and, in short, strove all I could to
bring him to a parting with me, which was what above all things in the
world I desired most.

He took my carriage very ill, and indeed he might well do so, for at last I
refused to bed with him, and carrying on the breach upon all occasions
to extremity, he told me once he thought I was mad, and if I did not alter
my conduct, he would put me under cure; that is to say, into a
madhouse. I told him he should find I was far enough from mad, and
that it was not in his power, or any other villain's, to murder me. I
confess at the same time I was heartily frighted at his thoughts of putting
me into a madhouse, which would at once have destroyed all the
possibility of breaking the truth out, whatever the occasion might be; for
that then no one would have given credit to a word of it.

This therefore brought me to a resolution, whatever came of it, to lay

open my whole case; but which way to do it, or to whom, was an
inextricable difficulty, and took me many months to resolve. In the
meantime, another quarrel with my husband happened, which came up
to such a mad extreme as almost pushed me on to tell it him all to his
face; but though I kept it in so as not to come to the particulars, I spoke
so much as put him into the utmost confusion, and in the end brought
out the whole story.

He began with a calm expostulation upon my being so resolute to go to

England; I defended it, and one hard word bringing on another, as is
usual in all family strife, he told me I did not treat him as if he was my
husband, or talk of my children as if I was a mother; and, in short, that I
did not deserve to be used as a wife; that he had used all the fair means
possible with me; that he had argued with all the kindness and calmness
that a husband or a Christian ought to do, and that I made him such a
vile return, that I treated him rather like a dog than a man, and rather
like the most contemptible stranger than a husband; that he was very
loth to use violence with me, but that, in short, he saw a necessity of it
 82

now, and that for the future he should be obliged to take such measures
as should reduce me to my duty.

My blood was now fired to the utmost, though I knew what he had said
was very true, and nothing could appear more provoked. I told him, for
his fair means and his foul, they were equally contemned by me; that for
my going to England, I was resolved on it, come what would; and that as
to treating him not like a husband, and not showing myself a mother to
my children, there might be something more in it than he understood at
present; but, for his further consideration, I thought fit to tell him thus
much, that he neither was my lawful husband, nor they lawful children,
and that I had reason to regard neither of them more than I did.

I confess I was moved to pity him when I spoke it, for he turned pale as
death, and stood mute as one thunderstruck, and once or twice I thought
he would have fainted; in short, it put him in a fit something like an
apoplex; he trembled, a sweat or dew ran off his face, and yet he was cold
as a clod, so that I was forced to run and fetch something for him to keep
life in him. When he recovered of that, he grew sick and vomited, and in
a little after was put to bed, and the next morning was, as he had been
indeed all night, in a violent fever.

However, it went off again, and he recovered, though but slowly, and
when he came to be a little better, he told me I had given him a mortal
wound with my tongue, and he had only one thing to ask before he
desired an explanation. I interrupted him, and told him I was sorry I had
gone so far, since I saw what disorder it put him into, but I desired him
not to talk to me of explanations, for that would but make things worse.

This heightened his impatience, and, indeed, perplexed him beyond all
bearing; for now he began to suspect that there was some mystery yet
unfolded, but could not make the least guess at the real particulars of it;
all that ran in his brain was, that I had another husband alive, which I
could not say in fact might not be true, but I assured him, however, there
was not the least of that in it; and indeed, as to my other husband, he
was effectually dead in law to me, and had told me I should look on him
as such, so I had not the least uneasiness on that score.

But now I found the thing too far gone to conceal it much longer, and my
husband himself gave me an opportunity to ease myself of the secret,
 83

much to my satisfaction. He had laboured with me three or four weeks,

but to no purpose, only to tell him whether I had spoken these words
only as the effect of my passion, to put him in a passion, or whether there
was anything of truth in the bottom of them. But I continued inflexible,
and would explain nothing, unless he would first consent to my going to
England, which he would never do, he said, while he lived; on the other
hand, I said it was in my power to make him willing when I pleased--nay,
to make him entreat me to go; and this increased his curiosity, and made
him importunate to the highest degree, but it was all to no purpose.

At length he tells all this story to his mother, and sets her upon me to get
the main secret out of me, and she used her utmost skill with me indeed;
but I put her to a full stop at once by telling her that the reason and
mystery of the whole matter lay in herself, and that it was my respect to
her that had made me conceal it; and that, in short, I could go no farther,
and therefore conjured her not to insist upon it.

She was struck dumb at this suggestion, and could not tell what to say or
to think; but, laying aside the supposition as a policy of mine, continued
her importunity on account of her son, and, if possible, to make up the
breach between us two. As to that, I told her that it was indeed a good
design in her, but that it was impossible to be done; and that if I should
reveal to her the truth of what she desired, she would grant it to be
impossible, and cease to desire it. At last I seemed to be prevailed on by
her importunity, and told her I dared trust her with a secret of the
greatest importance, and she would soon see that this was so, and that I
would consent to lodge it in her breast, if she would engage solemnly not
to acquaint her son with it without my consent.

She was long in promising this part, but rather than not come at the
main secret, she agreed to that too, and after a great many other
preliminaries, I began, and told her the whole story. First I told her how
much she was concerned in all the unhappy breach which had happened
between her son and me, by telling me her own story and her London
name; and that the surprise she saw I was in was upon that occasion. The
I told her my own story, and my name, and assured her, by such other
tokens as she could not deny, that I was no other, nor more or less, than
her own child, her daughter, born of her body in Newgate; the same that
 84

had saved her from the gallows by being in her belly, and the same that
she left in such-and-such hands when she was transported.

It is impossible to express the astonishment she was in; she was not
inclined to believe the story, or to remember the particulars, for she
immediately foresaw the confusion that must follow in the family upon
it. But everything concurred so exactly with the stories she had told me
of herself, and which, if she had not told me, she would perhaps have
been content to have denied, that she had stopped her own mouth, and
she had nothing to do but to take me about the neck and kiss me, and cry
most vehemently over me, without speaking one word for a long time
together. At last she broke out: 'Unhappy child!' says she, 'what
miserable chance could bring thee hither? and in the arms of my own
son, too! Dreadful girl,' says she, 'why, we are all undone! Married to thy
own brother! Three children, and two alive, all of the same flesh and
blood! My son and my daughter lying together as husband and wife! All
confusion and distraction for ever! Miserable family! what will become of
us? What is to be said? What is to be done?' And thus she ran on for a
great while; nor had I any power to speak, or if I had, did I know what to
say, for every word wounded me to the soul. With this kind of
amazement on our thoughts we parted for the first time, though my
mother was more surprised than I was, because it was more news to her
than to me. However, she promised again to me at parting, that she
would say nothing of it to her son, till we had talked of it again.

It was not long, you may be sure, before we had a second conference
upon the same subject; when, as if she had been willing to forget the
story she had told me of herself, or to suppose that I had forgot some of
the particulars, she began to tell them with alterations and omissions;
but I refreshed her memory and set her to rights in many things which I
supposed she had forgot, and then came in so opportunely with the
whole history, that it was impossible for her to go from it; and then she
fell into her rhapsodies again, and exclamations at the severity of her
misfortunes. When these things were a little over with her, we fell into a
close debate about what should be first done before we gave an account
of the matter to my husband. But to what purpose could be all our
consultations? We could neither of us see our way through it, nor see
how it could be safe to open such a scene to him. It was impossible to
make any judgment, or give any guess at what temper he would receive it
 85

in, or what measures he would take upon it; and if he should have so
little government of himself as to make it public, we easily foresaw that it
would be the ruin of the whole family, and expose my mother and me to
the last degree; and if at last he should take the advantage the law would
give him, he might put me away with disdain and leave me to sue for the
little portion that I had, and perhaps waste it all in the suit, and then be a
beggar; the children would be ruined too, having no legal claim to any of
his effects; and thus I should see him, perhaps, in the arms of another
wife in a few months, and be myself the most miserable creature alive.

My mother was as sensible of this as I; and, upon the whole, we knew not
what to do. After some time we came to more sober resolutions, but then
it was with this misfortune too, that my mother's opinion and mine were
quite different from one another, and indeed inconsistent with one
another; for my mother's opinion was, that I should bury the whole thing
entirely, and continue to live with him as my husband till some other
event should make the discovery of it more convenient; and that in the
meantime she would endeavour to reconcile us together again, and
restore our mutual comfort and family peace; that we might lie as we
used to do together, and so let the whole matter remain a secret as close
as death. 'For, child,' says she, 'we are both undone if it comes out.'

To encourage me to this, she promised to make me easy in my

circumstances, as far as she was able, and to leave me what she could at
her death, secured for me separately from my husband; so that if it
should come out afterwards, I should not be left destitute, but be able to
stand on my own feet and procure justice from him.

This proposal did not agree at all with my judgment of the thing, though
it was very fair and kind in my mother; but my thoughts ran quite
another way.

As to keeping the thing in our own breasts, and letting it all remain as it
was, I told her it was impossible; and I asked her how she could think I
could bear the thoughts of lying with my own brother. In the next place, I
told her that her being alive was the only support of the discovery, and
that while she owned me for her child, and saw reason to be satisfied that
I was so, nobody else would doubt it; but that if she should die before the
discovery, I should be taken for an impudent creature that had forged
such a thing to go away from my husband, or should be counted crazed
 86

and distracted. Then I told her how he had threatened already to put me
into a madhouse, and what concern I had been in about it, and how that
was the thing that drove me to the necessity of discovering it to her as I
had done.

From all which I told her, that I had, on the most serious reflections I
was able to make in the case, come to this resolution, which I hoped she
would like, as a medium between both, viz. that she should use her
endeavours with her son to give me leave to go to England, as I had
desired, and to furnish me with a sufficient sum of money, either in
goods along with me, or in bills for my support there, all along
suggesting that he might one time or other think it proper to come over
to me.

That when I was gone, she should then, in cold blood, and after first
obliging him in the solemnest manner possible to secrecy, discover the
case to him, doing it gradually, and as her own discretion should guide
her, so that he might not be surprised with it, and fly out into any
passions and excesses on my account, or on hers; and that she should
concern herself to prevent his slighting the children, or marrying again,
unless he had a certain account of my being dead.

This was my scheme, and my reasons were good; I was really alienated
from him in the consequences of these things; indeed, I mortally hated
him as a husband, and it was impossible to remove that riveted aversion
I had to him. At the same time, it being an unlawful, incestuous living,
added to that aversion, and though I had no great concern about it in
point of conscience, yet everything added to make cohabiting with him
the most nauseous thing to me in the world; and I think verily it was
come to such a height, that I could almost as willingly have embraced a
dog as have let him offer anything of that kind to me, for which reason I
could not bear the thoughts of coming between the sheets with him. I
cannot say that I was right in point of policy in carrying it such a length,
while at the same time I did not resolve to discover the thing to him; but
I am giving an account of what was, not of what ought or ought not to be.

In their directly opposite opinion to one another my mother and I

continued a long time, and it was impossible to reconcile our judgments;
many disputes we had about it, but we could never either of us yield our
own, or bring over the other.
 87

I insisted on my aversion to lying with my own brother, and she insisted

upon its being impossible to bring him to consent to my going from him
to England; and in this uncertainty we continued, not differing so as to
quarrel, or anything like it, but so as not to be able to resolve what we
should do to make up that terrible breach that was before us.

At last I resolved on a desperate course, and told my mother my

resolution, viz. that, in short, I would tell him of it myself. My mother
was frighted to the last degree at the very thoughts of it; but I bid her be
easy, told her I would do it gradually and softly, and with all the art and
good-humour I was mistress of, and time it also as well as I could, taking
him in good-humour too. I told her I did not question but, if I could be
hypocrite enough to feign more affection to him than I really had, I
should succeed in all my design, and we might part by consent, and with
a good agreement, for I might live him well enough for a brother, though
I could not for a husband.

All this while he lay at my mother to find out, if possible, what was the
meaning of that dreadful expression of mine, as he called it, which I
mentioned before: namely, that I was not his lawful wife, nor my
children his legal children. My mother put him off, told him she could
bring me to no explanations, but found there was something that
disturbed me very much, and she hoped she should get it out of me in
time, and in the meantime recommended to him earnestly to use me
more tenderly, and win me with his usual good carriage; told him of his
terrifying and affrighting me with his threats of sending me to a
madhouse, and the like, and advised him not to make a woman
desperate on any account whatever.

He promised her to soften his behaviour, and bid her assure me that he
loved me as well as ever, and that he had so such design as that of
sending me to a madhouse, whatever he might say in his passion; also he
desired my mother to use the same persuasions to me too, that our
affections might be renewed, and we might lie together in a good
understanding as we used to do.

I found the effects of this treaty presently. My husband's conduct was

immediately altered, and he was quite another man to me; nothing could
be kinder and more obliging than he was to me upon all occasions; and I
could do no less than make some return to it, which I did as well as I
 88

could, but it was but in an awkward manner at best, for nothing was
more frightful to me than his caresses, and the apprehensions of being
with child again by him was ready to throw me into fits; and this made
me see that there was an absolute necessity of breaking the case to him
without any more delay, which, however, I did with all the caution and
reserve imaginable.

He had continued his altered carriage to me near a month, and we began

to live a new kind of life with one another; and could I have satisfied
myself to have gone on with it, I believe it might have continued as long
as we had continued alive together. One evening, as we were sitting and
talking very friendly together under a little awning, which served as an
arbour at the entrance from our house into the garden, he was in a very
pleasant, agreeable humour, and said abundance of kind things to me
relating to the pleasure of our present good agreement, and the disorders
of our past breach, and what a satisfaction it was to him that we had
room to hope we should never have any more of it.

I fetched a deep sigh, and told him there was nobody in the world could
be more delighted than I was in the good agreement we had always kept
up, or more afflicted with the breach of it, and should be so still; but I
was sorry to tell him that there was an unhappy circumstance in our
case, which lay too close to my heart, and which I knew not how to break
to him, that rendered my part of it very miserable, and took from me all
the comfort of the rest.

He importuned me to tell him what it was. I told him I could not tell how
to do it; that while it was concealed from him I alone was unhappy, but if
he knew it also, we should be both so; and that, therefore, to keep him in
the dark about it was the kindest thing that I could do, and it was on that
account alone that I kept a secret from him, the very keeping of which, I
thought, would first or last be my destruction.

It is impossible to express his surprise at this relation, and the double

importunity which he used with me to discover it to him. He told me I
could not be called kind to him, nay, I could not be faithful to him if I
concealed it from him. I told him I thought so too, and yet I could not do
it. He went back to what I had said before to him, and told me he hoped
it did not relate to what I had said in my passion, and that he had
resolved to forget all that as the effect of a rash, provoked spirit. I told
 89

him I wished I could forget it all too, but that it was not to be done, the
impression was too deep, and I could not do it: it was impossible.

He then told me he was resolved not to differ with me in anything, and

that therefore he would importune me no more about it, resolving to
acquiesce in whatever I did or said; only begged I should then agree, that
whatever it was, it should no more interrupt our quiet and our mutual
kindness.

This was the most provoking thing he could have said to me, for I really
wanted his further importunities, that I might be prevailed with to bring
out that which indeed it was like death to me to conceal; so I answered
him plainly that I could not say I was glad not to be importuned, thought
I could not tell how to comply. 'But come, my dear,' said I, 'what
conditions will you make with me upon the opening this affair to you?'

'Any conditions in the world,' said he, 'that you can in reason desire of
me.' 'Well,' said I, 'come, give it me under your hand, that if you do not
find I am in any fault, or that I am willingly concerned in the causes of
the misfortune that is to follow, you will not blame me, use me the worse,
do my any injury, or make me be the sufferer for that which is not my
fault.'

'That,' says he, 'is the most reasonable demand in the world: not to
blame you for that which is not your fault. Give me a pen and ink,' says
he; so I ran in and fetched a pen, ink, and paper, and he wrote the
condition down in the very words I had proposed it, and signed it with
his name. "Well,' says he, 'what is next, my dear?'

'Why,' says I, 'the next is, that you will not blame me for not discovering
the secret of it to you before I knew it.'

'Very just again,' says he; 'with all my heart'; so he wrote down that also,
and signed it.

'Well, my dear,' says I, 'then I have but one condition more to make with
you, and that is, that as there is nobody concerned in it but you and I,
you shall not discover it to any person in the world, except your own
mother; and that in all the measures you shall take upon the discovery,
as I am equally concerned in it with you, though as innocent as yourself,
 90

you shall do nothing in a passion, nothing to my prejudice or to your

mother's prejudice, without my knowledge and consent.'

This a little amazed him, and he wrote down the words distinctly, but
read them over and over before he signed them, hesitating at them
several times, and repeating them: "My mother's prejudice! and your
prejudice! What mysterious thing can this be?' However, at last he
signed it.

'Well, says I, 'my dear, I'll ask you no more under your hand; but as you
are to hear the most unexpected and surprising thing that perhaps ever
befell any family in the world, I beg you to promise me you will receive it
with composure and a presence of mind suitable to a man of sense.'

'I'll do my utmost,' says he, 'upon condition you will keep me no longer
in suspense, for you terrify me with all these preliminaries.'

"Well, then,' says I, 'it is this: as I told you before in a heat, that I was not
your lawful wife, and that our children were not legal children, so I must
let you know now in calmness and in kindness, but with affliction
enough, that I am your own sister, and you my own brother, and that we
are both the children of our mother now alive, and in the house, who is
convinced of the truth of it, in a manner not to be denied or
contradicted.'

I saw him turn pale and look wild; and I said, 'Now remember your
promise, and receive it with presence of mind; for who could have said
more to prepare you for it than I have done? However, I called a servant,
and got him a little glass of rum (which is the usual dram of that
country), for he was just fainting away. When he was a little recovered, I
said to him, 'This story, you may be sure, requires a long explanation,
and therefore, have patience and compose your mind to hear it out, and
I'll make it as short as I can'; and with this, I told him what I thought was
needful of the fact, and particularly how my mother came to discover it
to me, as above. 'And now, my dear,' says I, 'you will see reason for my
capitulations, and that I neither have been the cause of this matter, nor
could be so, and that I could know nothing of it before now.'

'I am fully satisfied of that,' says he, 'but 'tis a dreadful surprise to me;
however, I know a remedy for it all, and a remedy that shall put an end to
your difficulties, without your going to England.' 'That would be strange,'
 91

said I, 'as all the rest.' 'No, no,' says he, 'I'll make it easy; there's nobody
in the way of it but myself.' He looked a little disordered when he said
this, but I did not apprehend anything from it at that time, believing, as
it used to be said, that they who do those things never talk of them, or
that they who talk of such things never do them.

But things were not come to their height with him, and I observed he
became pensive and melancholy; and in a word, as I thought, a little
distempered in his head. I endeavoured to talk him into temper, and to
reason him into a kind of scheme for our government in the affair, and
sometimes he would be well, and talk with some courage about it; but
the weight of it lay too heavy upon his thoughts, and, in short, it went so
far that he made attempts upon himself, and in one of them had actually
strangled himself and had not his mother come into the room in the very
moment, he had died; but with the help of a Negro servant she cut him
down and recovered him.

Things were now come to a lamentable height in the family. My pity for
him now began to revive that affection which at first I really had for him,
and I endeavoured sincerely, by all the kind carriage I could, to make up
the breach; but, in short, it had gotten too great a head, it preyed upon
his spirits, and it threw him into a long, lingering consumption, though it
happened not to be mortal. In this distress I did not know what to do, as
his life was apparently declining, and I might perhaps have married
again there, very much to my advantage; it had been certainly my
business to have stayed in the country, but my mind was restless too, and
uneasy; I hankered after coming to England, and nothing would satisfy
me without it.

In short, by an unwearied importunity, my husband, who was apparently

decaying, as I observed, was at last prevailed with; and so my own fate
pushing me on, the way was made clear for me, and my mother
concurring, I obtained a very good cargo for my coming to England.

When I parted with my brother (for such I am now to call him), we

agreed that after I arrived he should pretend to have an account that I
was dead in England, and so might marry again when he would. He
promised, and engaged to me to correspond with me as a sister, and to
assist and support me as long as I lived; and that if he died before me, he
would leave sufficient to his mother to take care of me still, in the name
 92

of a sister, and he was in some respects careful of me, when he heard of

me; but it was so oddly managed that I felt the disappointments very
sensibly afterwards, as you shall hear in its time.

I came away for England in the month of August, after I had been eight
years in that country; and now a new scene of misfortunes attended me,
which perhaps few women have gone through the life of.

We had an indifferent good voyage till we came just upon the coast of
England, and where we arrived in two-and-thirty days, but were then
ruffled with two or three storms, one of which drove us away to the coast
of Ireland, and we put in at Kinsdale. We remained there about thirteen
days, got some refreshment on shore, and put to sea again, though we
met with very bad weather again, in which the ship sprung her
mainmast, as they called it, for I knew not what they meant. But we got
at last into Milford Haven, in Wales, where, though it was remote from
our port, yet having my foot safe upon the firm ground of my native
country, the isle of Britain, I resolved to venture it no more upon the
waters, which had been so terrible to me; so getting my clothes and
money on shore, with my bills of loading and other papers, I resolved to
come for London, and leave the ship to get to her port as she could; the
port whither she was bound was to Bristol, where my brother's chief
correspondent lived.

I got to London in about three weeks, where I heard a little while after
that the ship was arrived in Bristol, but at the same time had the
misfortune to know that by the violent weather she had been in, and the
breaking of her mainmast, she had great damage on board, and that a
great part of her cargo was spoiled.

I had now a new scene of life upon my hands, and a dreadful appearance
it had. I was come away with a kind of final farewell. What I brought with
me was indeed considerable, had it come safe, and by the help of it, I
might have married again tolerably well; but as it was, I was reduced to
between two or three hundred pounds in the whole, and this without any
hope of recruit. I was entirely without friends, nay, even so much as
without acquaintance, for I found it was absolutely necessary not to
revive former acquaintances; and as for my subtle friend that set me up
formerly for a fortune, she was dead, and her husband also; as I was
informed, upon sending a person unknown to inquire.
 93

The looking after my cargo of goods soon after obliged me to take a

journey to Bristol, and during my attendance upon that affair I took the
diversion of going to the Bath, for as I was still far from being old, so my
humour, which was always gay, continued so to an extreme; and being
now, as it were, a woman of fortune though I was a woman without a
fortune, I expected something or other might happen in my way that
might mend my circumstances, as had been my case before.

The Bath is a place of gallantry enough; expensive, and full of snares. I

went thither, indeed, in the view of taking anything that might offer, but
I must do myself justice, as to protest I knew nothing amiss; I meant
nothing but in an honest way, nor had I any thoughts about me at first
that looked the way which afterwards I suffered them to be guided.

Here I stayed the whole latter season, as it is called there, and contracted
some unhappy acquaintances, which rather prompted the follies I fell
afterwards into than fortified me against them. I lived pleasantly enough,
kept good company, that is to say, gay, fine company; but had the
discouragement to find this way of living sunk me exceedingly, and that
as I had no settled income, so spending upon the main stock was but a
certain kind of bleeding to death; and this gave me many sad reflections
in the interval of my other thoughts. However, I shook them off, and still
flattered myself that something or other might offer for my advantage.

But I was in the wrong place for it. I was not now at Redriff, where, if I
had set myself tolerably up, some honest sea captain or other might have
talked with me upon the honourable terms of matrimony; but I was at
the Bath, where men find a mistress sometimes, but very rarely look for a
wife; and consequently all the particular acquaintances a woman can
expect to make there must have some tendency that way.

I had spent the first season well enough; for though I had contracted
some acquaintance with a gentleman who came to the Bath for his
diversion, yet I had entered into no felonious treaty, as it might be called.
I had resisted some casual offers of gallantry, and had managed that way
well enough. I was not wicked enough to come into the crime for the
mere vice of it, and I had no extraordinary offers made me that tempted
me with the main thing which I wanted.
 94

However, I went this length the first season, viz. I contracted an

acquaintance with a woman in whose house I lodged, who, though she
did not keep an ill house, as we call it, yet had none of the best principles
in herself. I had on all occasions behaved myself so well as not to get the
least slur upon my reputation on any account whatever, and all the men
that I had conversed with were of so good reputation that I had not given
the least reflection by conversing with them; nor did any of them seem to
think there was room for a wicked correspondence, if they had any of
them offered it; yet there was one gentleman, as above, who always
singled me out for the diversion of my company, as he called it, which, as
he was pleased to say, was very agreeable to him, but at that time there
was no more in it.

I had many melancholy hours at the Bath after the company was gone;
for though I went to Bristol sometime for the disposing my effects, and
for recruits of money, yet I chose to come back to Bath for my residence,
because being on good terms with the woman in whose house I lodged in
the summer, I found that during the winter I lived rather cheaper there
than I could do anywhere else. Here, I say, I passed the winter as heavily
as I had passed the autumn cheerfully; but having contracted a nearer
intimacy with the said woman in whose house I lodged, I could not avoid
communicating to her something of what lay hardest upon my mind and
particularly the narrowness of my circumstances, and the loss of my
fortune by the damage of my goods at sea. I told her also, that I had a
mother and a brother in Virginia in good circumstances; and as I had
really written back to my mother in particular to represent my condition,
and the great loss I had received, which indeed came to almost #500, so
I did not fail to let my new friend know that I expected a supply from
thence, and so indeed I did; and as the ships went from Bristol to York
River, in Virginia, and back again generally in less time from London,
and that my brother corresponded chiefly at Bristol, I thought it was
much better for me to wait here for my returns than to go to London,
where also I had not the least acquaintance.

My new friend appeared sensibly affected with my condition, and indeed

was so very kind as to reduce the rate of my living with her to so low a
price during the winter, that she convinced me she got nothing by me;
and as for lodging, during the winter I paid nothing at all.
 95

When the spring season came on, she continued to be as king to me as

she could, and I lodged with her for a time, till it was found necessary to
do otherwise. She had some persons of character that frequently lodged
in her house, and in particular the gentleman who, as I said, singled me
out for his companion the winter before; and he came down again with
another gentleman in his company and two servants, and lodged in the
same house. I suspected that my landlady had invited him thither, letting
him know that I was still with her; but she denied it, and protested to me
that she did not, and he said the same.

In a word, this gentleman came down and continued to single me out for
his peculiar confidence as well as conversation. He was a complete
gentleman, that must be confessed, and his company was very agreeable
to me, as mine, if I might believe him, was to him. He made no
professions to be but of an extraordinary respect, and he had such an
opinion of my virtue, that, as he often professed, he believed if he should
offer anything else, I should reject him with contempt. He soon
understood from me that I was a widow; that I had arrived at Bristol
from Virginia by the last ships; and that I waited at Bath till the next
Virginia fleet should arrive, by which I expected considerable effects. I
understood by him, and by others of him, that he had a wife, but that the
lady was distempered in her head, and was under the conduct of her own
relations, which he consented to, to avoid any reflections that might (as
was not unusual in such cases) be cast on him for mismanaging her cure;
and in the meantime he came to the Bath to divert his thoughts from the
disturbance of such a melancholy circumstance as that was.

My landlady, who of her own accord encouraged the correspondence on

all occasions, gave me an advantageous character of him, as a man of
honour and of virtue, as well as of great estate. And indeed I had a great
deal of reason to say so of him too; for though we lodged both on a floor,
and he had frequently come into my chamber, even when I was in bed,
and I also into his when he was in bed, yet he never offered anything to
me further than a kiss, or so much as solicited me to anything till long
after, as you shall hear.

I frequently took notice to my landlady of his exceeding modesty, and

she again used to tell me, she believed it was so from the beginning;
however, she used to tell me that she thought I ought to expect some
 96

gratification from him for my company, for indeed he did, as it were,

engross me, and I was seldom from him. I told her I had not given him
the least occasion to think I wanted it, or that I would accept of it from
him. She told me she would take that part upon her, and she did so, and
managed it so dexterously, that the first time we were together alone,
after she had talked with him, he began to inquire a little into my
circumstances, as how I had subsisted myself since I came on shore, and
whether I did not want money. I stood off very boldly. I told him that
though my cargo of tobacco was damaged, yet that it was not quite lost;
that the merchant I had been consigned to had so honestly managed for
me that I had not wanted, and that I hoped, with frugal management, I
should make it hold out till more would come, which I expected by the
next fleet; that in the meantime I had retrenched my expenses, and
whereas I kept a maid last season, now I lived without; and whereas I
had a chamber and a dining-room then on the first floor, as he knew, I
now had but one room, two pair of stairs, and the like. 'But I live,' said I,
'as well satisfied now as I did then'; adding, that his company had been a
means to make me live much more cheerfully than otherwise I should
have done, for which I was much obliged to him; and so I put off all room
for any offer for the present. However, it was not long before he attacked
me again, and told me he found that I was backward to trust him with
the secret of my circumstances, which he was sorry for; assuring me that
he inquired into it with no design to satisfy his own curiosity, but merely
to assist me, if there was any occasion; but since I would not own myself
to stand in need of any assistance, he had but one thing more to desire of
me, and that was, that I would promise him that when I was any way
straitened, or like to be so, I would frankly tell him of it, and that I would
make use of him with the same freedom that he made the offer; adding,
that I should always find I had a true friend, though perhaps I was afraid
to trust him.

I omitted nothing that was fit to be said by one infinitely obliged, to let
him know that I had a due sense of his kindness; and indeed from that
time I did not appear so much reserved to him as I had done before,
though still within the bounds of the strictest virtue on both sides; but
how free soever our conversation was, I could not arrive to that sort of
freedom which he desired, viz. to tell him I wanted money, though I was
secretly very glad of his offer.
 97

Some weeks passed after this, and still I never asked him for money;
when my landlady, a cunning creature, who had often pressed me to it,
but found that I could not do it, makes a story of her own inventing, and
comes in bluntly to me when we were together. 'Oh, widow!' says she, 'I
have bad news to tell you this morning.' 'What is that?' said I; 'are the
Virginia ships taken by the French?'--for that was my fear. 'No, no,' says
she, 'but the man you sent to Bristol yesterday for money is come back,
and says he has brought none.'

Now I could by no means like her project; I though it looked too much
like prompting him, which indeed he did not want, and I clearly that I
should lose nothing by being backward to ask, so I took her up short. 'I
can't image why he should say so to you,' said I, 'for I assure you he
brought me all the money I sent him for, and here it is,' said I (pulling
out my purse with about twelve guineas in it); and added, 'I intend you
shall have most of it by and by.'

He seemed distasted a little at her talking as she did at first, as well as I,

taking it, as I fancied he would, as something forward of her; but when
he saw me give such an answer, he came immediately to himself again.
The next morning we talked of it again, when I found he was fully
satisfied, and, smiling, said he hoped I would not want money and not
tell him of it, and that I had promised him otherwise. I told him I had
been very much dissatisfied at my landlady's talking so publicly the day
before of what she had nothing to do with; but I supposed she wanted
what I owed her, which was about eight guineas, which I had resolved to
give her, and had accordingly given it her the same night she talked so
foolishly.

He was in a might good humour when he heard me say I had paid her,
and it went off into some other discourse at that time. But the next
morning, he having heard me up about my room before him, he called to
me, and I answering, he asked me to come into his chamber. He was in
bed when I came in, and he made me come and sit down on his bedside,
for he said he had something to say to me which was of some moment.
After some very kind expressions, he asked me if I would be very honest
to him, and give a sincere answer to one thing he would desire of me.
After some little cavil at the word 'sincere,' and asking him if I had ever
given him any answers which were not sincere, I promised him I would.
 98

Why, then, his request was, he said, to let him see my purse. I
immediately put my hand into my pocket, and, laughing to him, pulled it
out, and there was in it three guineas and a half. Then he asked me if
there was all the money I had. I told him No, laughing again, not by a
great deal. Well, then, he said, he would have me promise to go and fetch
him all the money I had, every farthing. I told him I would, and I went
into my chamber and fetched him a little private drawer, where I had
about six guineas more, and some silver, and threw it all down upon the
bed, and told him there was all my wealth, honestly to a shilling. He
looked a little at it, but did not tell it, and huddled it all into the drawer
again, and then reaching his pocket, pulled out a key, and bade me open
a little walnut-tree box he had upon the table, and bring him such a
drawer, which I did. In which drawer there was a great deal of money in
gold, I believe near two hundred guineas, but I knew not how much. He
took the drawer, and taking my hand, made me put it in and take a whole
handful. I was backward at that, but he held my hand hard in his hand,
and put it into the drawer, and made me take out as many guineas
almost as I could well take up at once.

When I had done so, he made me put them into my lap, and took my
little drawer, and poured out all my money among his, and bade me get
me gone, and carry it all home into my own chamber.

I relate this story the more particularly because of the good-humour

there was in it, and to show the temper with which we conversed. It was
not long after this but he began every day to find fault with my clothes,
with my laces and headdresses, and, in a word, pressed me to buy better;
which, by the way, I was willing enough to do, though I did not seem to
be so, for I loved nothing in the world better than fine clothes. I told him
I must housewife the money he had lent me, or else I should not be able
to pay him again. He then told me, in a few words, that as he had a
sincere respect for me, and knew my circumstances, he had not lent me
that money, but given it me, and that he thought I had merited it from
him by giving him my company so entirely as I had done. After this he
made me take a maid, and keep house, and his friend that come with him
to Bath being gone, he obliged me to diet him, which I did very willingly,
believing, as it appeared, that I should lose nothing by it, not did the
woman of the house fail to find her account in it too.
 99

We had lived thus near three months, when the company beginning to
wear away at the Bath, he talked of going away, and fain he would have
me to go to London with him. I was not very easy in that proposal, not
knowing what posture I was to live in there, or how he might use me. But
while this was in debate he fell very sick; he had gone out to a place in
Somersetshire, called Shepton, where he had some business and was
there taken very ill, and so ill that he could not travel; so he sent his man
back to Bath, to beg me that I would hire a coach and come over to him.
Before he went, he had left all his money and other things of value with
me, and what to do with them I did not know, but I secured them as well
as I could, and locked up the lodgings and went to him, where I found
him very ill indeed; however, I persuaded him to be carried in a litter to
the Bath, where there was more help and better advice to be had.

He consented, and I brought him to the Bath, which was about fifteen
miles, as I remember. Here he continued very ill of a fever, and kept his
bed five weeks, all which time I nursed him and tended him myself, as
much and as carefully as if I had been his wife; indeed, if I had been his
wife I could not have done more. I sat up with him so much and so often,
that at last, indeed, he would not let me sit up any longer, and then I got
a pallet-bed into his room, and lay in it just at his bed's feet.

I was indeed sensibly affected with his condition, and with the
apprehension of losing such a friend as he was, and was like to be to me,
and I used to sit and cry by him many hours together. However, at last he
grew better, and gave hopes that he would recover, as indeed he did,
though very slowly.

Were it otherwise than what I am going to say, I should not be backward

to disclose it, as it is apparent I have done in other cases in this account;
but I affirm, that through all this conversation, abating the freedom of
coming into the chamber when I or he was in bed, and abating the
necessary offices of attending him night and day when he was sick, there
had not passed the least immodest word or action between us. Oh that it
had been so to the last!

After some time he gathered strength and grew well apace, and I would
have removed my pallet-bed, but he would not let me, till he was able to
venture himself without anybody to sit up with him, and then I removed
to my own chamber.
 100

He took many occasions to express his sense of my tenderness and

concern for him; and when he grew quite well, he made me a present of
fifty guineas for my care and, as he called it, for hazarding my life to save
his.

And now he made deep protestations of a sincere inviolable affection for

me, but all along attested it to be with the utmost reserve for my virtue
and his own. I told him I was fully satisfied of it. He carried it that length
that he protested to me, that if he was naked in bed with me, he would as
sacredly preserve my virtue as he would defend if I was assaulted by a
ravisher. I believed him, and told him I did so; but this did not satisfy
him, he would, he said, wait for some opportunity to give me an
undoubted testimony of it.
 101

CHAPTER 6

It was a great while after this that I had occasion, on my own business, to
go to Bristol, upon which he hired me a coach, and would go with me,
and did so; and now indeed our intimacy increased. From Bristol he
carried me to Gloucester, which was merely a journey of pleasure, to take
the air; and here it was our hap to have no lodging in the inn but in one
large chamber with two beds in it. The master of the house going up with
us to show his rooms, and coming into that room, said very frankly to
him, 'Sir, it is none of my business to inquire whether the lady be your
spouse or no, but if not, you may lie as honestly in these two beds as if
you were in two chambers,' and with that he pulls a great curtain which
drew quite across the room and effectually divided the beds. 'Well,' says
my friend, very readily, 'these beds will do, and as for the rest, we are too
near akin to lie together, though we may lodge near one another'; and
this put an honest face on the thing too. When we came to go to bed, he
decently went out of the room till I was in bed, and then went to bed in
the bed on his own side of the room, but lay there talking to me a great
while.

At last, repeating his usual saying, that he could lie naked in the bed with
me and not offer me the least injury, he starts out of his bed. 'And now,
my dear,' says he, 'you shall see how just I will be to you, and that I can
keep my word,' and away he comes to my bed.

I resisted a little, but I must confess I should not have resisted him much
if he had not made those promises at all; so after a little struggle, as I
said, I lay still and let him come to bed. When he was there he took me in
his arms, and so I lay all night with him, but he had no more to do with
me, or offered anything to me, other than embracing me, as I say, in his
arms, no, not the whole night, but rose up and dressed him in the
morning, and left me as innocent for him as I was the day I was born.

This was a surprising thing to me, and perhaps may be so to others, who
know how the laws of nature work; for he was a strong, vigorous, brisk
person; nor did he act thus on a principle of religion at all, but of mere
 102

affection; insisting on it, that though I was to him to most agreeable

woman in the world, yet, because he loved me, he could not injure me.

I own it was a noble principle, but as it was what I never understood

before, so it was to me perfectly amazing. We traveled the rest of the
journey as we did before, and came back to the Bath, where, as he had
opportunity to come to me when he would, he often repeated the
moderation, and I frequently lay with him, and he with me, and although
all the familiarities between man and wife were common to us, yet he
never once offered to go any farther, and he valued himself much upon
it. I do not say that I was so wholly pleased with it as he thought I was,
for I own much wickeder than he, as you shall hear presently.

We lived thus near two years, only with this exception, that he went three
times to London in that time, and once he continued there four months;
but, to do him justice, he always supplied me with money to subsist me
very handsomely.

Had we continued thus, I confess we had had much to boast of; but as
wise men say, it is ill venturing too near the brink of a command, so we
found it; and here again I must do him the justice to own that the first
breach was not on his part. It was one night that we were in bed together
warm and merry, and having drunk, I think, a little more wine that night,
both of us, than usual, although not in the least to disorder either of us,
when, after some other follies which I cannot name, and being clasped
close in his arms, I told him (I repeat it with shame and horror of soul)
that I could find in my heart to discharge him of his engagement for one
night and no more.

He took me at my word immediately, and after that there was no

resisting him; neither indeed had I any mind to resist him any more, let
what would come of it.

Thus the government of our virtue was broken, and I exchanged the
place of friend for that unmusical, harsh-sounding title of whore. In the
morning we were both at our penitentials; I cried very heartily, he
expressed himself very sorry; but that was all either of us could do at that
time, and the way being thus cleared, and the bars of virtue and
conscience thus removed, we had the less difficult afterwards to struggle
with.
 103

It was but a dull kind of conversation that we had together for all the rest
of that week; I looked on him with blushes, and every now and then
started that melancholy objection, 'What if I should be with child now?
What will become of me then?' He encouraged me by telling me, that as
long as I was true to him, he would be so to me; and since it was gone
such a length (which indeed he never intended), yet if I was with child,
he would take care of that, and of me too. This hardened us both. I
assured him if I was with child, I would die for want of a midwife rather
than name him as the father of it; and he assured me I should never want
if I should be with child. These mutual assurances hardened us in the
thing, and after this we repeated the crime as often as we pleased, till at
length, as I had feared, so it came to pass, and I was indeed with child.

After I was sure it was so, and I had satisfied him of it too, we began to
think of taking measures for the managing it, and I proposed trusting the
secret to my landlady, and asking her advice, which he agreed to. My
landlady, a woman (as I found) used to such things, made light of it; she
said she knew it would come to that at last, and made us very merry
about it. As I said above, we found her an experienced old lady at such
work; she undertook everything, engaged to procure a midwife and a
nurse, to satisfy all inquiries, and bring us off with reputation, and she
did so very dexterously indeed.

When I grew near my time she desired my gentleman to go away to

London, or make as if he did so. When he was gone, she acquainted the
parish officers that there was a lady ready to lie in at her house, but that
she knew her husband very well, and gave them, as she pretended, an
account of his name, which she called Sir Walter Cleve; telling them he
was a very worthy gentleman, and that she would answer for all
inquiries, and the like. This satisfied the parish officers presently, and I
lay in with as much credit as I could have done if I had really been my
Lady Cleve, and was assisted in my travail by three or four of the best
citizens' wives of Bath who lived in the neighbourhood, which, however,
made me a little the more expensive to him. I often expressed my
concern to him about it, but he bid me not be concerned at it.

As he had furnished me very sufficiently with money for the

extraordinary expenses of my lying in, I had everything very handsome
about me, but did not affect to be gay or extravagant neither; besides,
 104

knowing my own circumstances, and knowing the world as I had done,

and that such kind of things do not often last long, I took care to lay up
as much money as I could for a wet day, as I called it; making him believe
it was all spent upon the extraordinary appearance of things in my lying
in.

By this means, and including what he had given me as above, I had at the
end of my lying in about two hundred guineas by me, including also what
was left of my own.

I was brought to bed of a fine boy indeed, and a charming child it was;
and when he heard of it he wrote me a very kind, obliging letter about it,
and then told me, he thought it would look better for me to come away
for London as soon as I was up and well; that he had provided
apartments for me at Hammersmith, as if I came thither only from
London; and that after a little while I should go back to the Bath, and he
would go with me.

I liked this offer very well, and accordingly hired a coach on purpose, and
taking my child, and a wet-nurse to tend and suckle it, and a maid-
servant with me, away I went for London.

He met me at Reading in his own chariot, and taking me into that, left
the servant and the child in the hired coach, and so he brought me to my
new lodgings at Hammersmith; with which I had abundance of reason to
be very well pleased, for they were very handsome rooms, and I was very
well accommodated.

And now I was indeed in the height of what I might call my prosperity,
and I wanted nothing but to be a wife, which, however, could not be in
this case, there was no room for it; and therefore on all occasions I
studied to save what I could, as I have said above, against a time of
scarcity, knowing well enough that such things as these do not always
continue; that men that keep mistresses often change them, grow weary
of them, or jealous of them, or something or other happens to make
them withdraw their bounty; and sometimes the ladies that are thus well
used are not careful by a prudent conduct to preserve the esteem of their
persons, or the nice article of their fidelity, and then they are justly cast
off with contempt.
 105

But I was secured in this point, for as I had no inclination to change, so I

had no manner of acquaintance in the whole house, and so no
temptation to look any farther. I kept no company but in the family when
I lodged, and with the clergyman's lady at next door; so that when he was
absent I visited nobody, nor did he ever find me out of my chamber or
parlour whenever he came down; if I went anywhere to take the air, it
was always with him.

The living in this manner with him, and his with me, was certainly the
most undesigned thing in the world; he often protested to me, that when
he became first acquainted with me, and even to the very night when we
first broke in upon our rules, he never had the least design of lying with
me; that he always had a sincere affection for me, but not the least real
inclination to do what he had done. I assured him I never suspected him;
that if I had I should not so easily have yielded to the freedom which
brought it on, but that it was all a surprise, and was owing to the accident
of our having yielded too far to our mutual inclinations that night; and
indeed I have often observed since, and leave it as a caution to the
readers of this story, that we ought to be cautious of gratifying our
inclinations in loose and lewd freedoms, lest we find our resolutions of
virtue fail us in the junction when their assistance should be most
necessary.

It is true, and I have confessed it before, that from the first hour I began
to converse with him, I resolved to let him lie with me, if he offered it;
but it was because I wanted his help and assistance, and I knew no other
way of securing him than that. But when were that night together, and,
as I have said, had gone such a length, I found my weakness; the
inclination was not to be resisted, but I was obliged to yield up all even
before he asked it.

However, he was so just to me that he never upbraided me with that; nor

did he ever express the least dislike of my conduct on any other occasion,
but always protested he was as much delighted with my company as he
was the first hour we came together: I mean, came together as
bedfellows.

It is true that he had no wife, that is to say, she was as no wife to him,
and so I was in no danger that way, but the just reflections of conscience
 106

oftentimes snatch a man, especially a man of sense, from the arms of a

mistress, as it did him at last, though on another occasion.

On the other hand, though I was not without secret reproaches of my

own conscience for the life I led, and that even in the greatest height of
the satisfaction I ever took, yet I had the terrible prospect of poverty and
starving, which lay on me as a frightful spectre, so that there was no
looking behind me. But as poverty brought me into it, so fear of poverty
kept me in it, and I frequently resolved to leave it quite off, if I could but
come to lay up money enough to maintain me. But these were thoughts
of no weight, and whenever he came to me they vanished; for his
company was so delightful, that there was no being melancholy when he
was there; the reflections were all the subject of those hours when I was
alone.

I lived six years in this happy but unhappy condition, in which time I
brought him three children, but only the first of them lived; and though I
removed twice in those six years, yet I came back the sixth year to my
first lodgings at Hammersmith. Here it was that I was one morning
surprised with a kind but melancholy letter from my gentleman,
intimating that he was very ill, and was afraid he should have another fit
of sickness, but that his wife's relations being in the house with him, it
would not be practicable to have me with him, which, however, he
expressed his great dissatisfaction in, and that he wished I could be
allowed to tend and nurse him as I did before.

I was very much concerned at this account, and was very impatient to
know how it was with him. I waited a fortnight or thereabouts, and heard
nothing, which surprised me, and I began to be very uneasy indeed. I
think, I may say, that for the next fortnight I was near to distracted. It
was my particular difficulty that I did not know directly when he was; for
I understood at first he was in the lodgings of his wife's mother; but
having removed myself to London, I soon found, by the help of the
direction I had for writing my letters to him, how to inquire after him,
and there I found that he was at a house in Bloomsbury, whither he had,
a little before he fell sick, removed his whole family; and that his wife
and wife's mother were in the same house, though the wife was not
suffered to know that she was in the same house with her husband.
 107

Here I also soon understood that he was at the last extremity, which
made me almost at the last extremity too, to have a true account. One
night I had the curiosity to disguise myself like a servant-maid, in a
round cap and straw hat, and went to the door, as sent by a lady of his
neighbourhood, where he lived before, and giving master and mistress's
service, I said I was sent to know how Mr. ---did, and how he had rested
that night. In delivering this message I got the opportunity I desired; for,
speaking with one of the maids, I held a long gossip's tale with her, and
had all the particulars of his illness, which I found was a pleurisy,
attended with a cough and a fever. She told me also who was in the
house, and how his wife was, who, by her relation, they were in some
hopes might recover her understanding; but as to the gentleman himself,
in short she told me the doctors said there was very little hopes of him,
that in the morning they thought he had been dying, and that he was but
little better then, for they did not expect that he could live over the next
night.

This was heavy news for me, and I began now to see an end of my
prosperity, and to see also that it was very well I had played to good
housewife, and secured or saved something while he was alive, for that
now I had no view of my own living before me.

It lay very heavy upon my mind, too, that I had a son, a fine lovely boy,
about five years old, and no provision made for it, at least that I knew of.
With these considerations, and a sad heart, I went home that evening,
and began to cast with myself how I should live, and in what manner to
bestow myself, for the residue of my life.

You may be sure I could not rest without inquiring again very quickly
what was become of him; and not venturing to go myself, I sent several
sham messengers, till after a fortnight's waiting longer, I found that
there was hopes of his life, though he was still very ill; then I abated my
sending any more to the house, and in some time after I learned in the
neighbourhood that he was about house, and then that he was abroad
again.

I made no doubt then but that I should soon hear of him, and began to
comfort myself with my circumstances being, as I thought, recovered. I
waited a week, and two weeks, and with much surprise and amazement I
waited near two months and heard nothing, but that, being recovered, he
 108

was gone into the country for the air, and for the better recovery after his
distemper. After this it was yet two months more, and then I understood
he was come to his city house again, but still I heard nothing from him.

I had written several letters for him, and directed them as usual, and
found two or three of them had been called for, but not the rest. I wrote
again in a more pressing manner than ever, and in one of them let him
know, that I must be forced to wait on him myself, representing my
circumstances, the rent of lodgings to pay, and the provision for the child
wanting, and my own deplorable condition, destitute of subsistence for
his most solemn engagement to take care of and provide for me. I took a
copy of this letter, and finding it lay at the house near a month and was
not called for, I found means to have the copy of it put into his own
hands at a coffee-house, where I had by inquiry found he used to go. This
letter forced an answer from him, by which, though I found I was to be
abandoned, yet I found he had sent a letter to me some time before,
desiring me to go down to the Bath again. Its contents I shall come to
presently.

It is true that sick-beds are the time when such correspondences as this
are looked on with different countenances, and seen with other eyes than
we saw them with, or than they appeared with before. My lover had been
at the gates of death, and at the very brink of eternity; and, it seems, had
been struck with a due remorse, and with sad reflections upon his past
life of gallantry and levity; and among the rest, criminal correspondence
with me, which was neither more nor less than a long-continued life of
adultery, and represented itself as it really was, not as it had been
formerly thought by him to be, and he looked upon it now with a just and
religious abhorrence.

I cannot but observe also, and leave it for the direction of my sex in such
cases of pleasure, that whenever sincere repentance succeeds such a
crime as this, there never fails to attend a hatred of the object; and the
more the affection might seem to be before, the hatred will be the more
in proportion. It will always be so, indeed it can be no otherwise; for
there cannot be a true and sincere abhorrence of the offence, and the
love to the cause of it remain; there will, with an abhorrence of the sin,
be found a detestation of the fellow-sinner; you can expect no other.
 109

I found it so here, though good manners and justice in this gentleman

kept him from carrying it on to any extreme but the short history of his
part in this affair was thus: he perceived by my last letter, and by all the
rest, which he went for after, that I was not gone to Bath, that his first
letter had not come to my hand; upon which he write me this following:-
'MADAM,--I am surprised that my letter, dated the 8th of last month,
did not come to your hand; I give you my word it was delivered at your
lodgings, and to the hands of your maid.

'I need not acquaint you with what has been my condition for some time
past; and how, having been at the edge of the grave, I am, by the
unexpected and undeserved mercy of Heaven, restored again. In the
condition I have been in, it cannot be strange to you that our unhappy
correspondence had not been the least of the burthens which lay upon
my conscience. I need say no more; those things that must be repented
of, must be also reformed.

I wish you would think of going back to the Bath. I enclose you here a bill
for #50 for clearing yourself at your lodgings, and carrying you down,
and hope it will be no surprise to you to add, that on this account only,
and not for any offence given me on your side, I can see you no more. I
will take due care of the child; leave him where he is, or take him with
you, as you please. I wish you the like reflections, and that they may be to
your advantage.--I am,' etc.

I was struck with this letter as with a thousand wounds, such as I cannot
describe; the reproaches of my own conscience were such as I cannot
express, for I was not blind to my own crime; and I reflected that I might
with less offence have continued with my brother, and lived with him as
a wife, since there was no crime in our marriage on that score, neither of
us knowing it.

But I never once reflected that I was all this while a married woman, a
wife to Mr. ---the linen-draper, who, though he had left me by the
necessity of his circumstances, had no power to discharge me from the
marriage contract which was between us, or to give me a legal liberty to
marry again; so that I had been no less than a whore and an adulteress
all this while. I then reproached myself with the liberties I had taken, and
how I had been a snare to this gentleman, and that indeed I was
principal in the crime; that now he was mercifully snatched out of the
 110

gulf by a convincing work upon his mind, but that I was left as if I was
forsaken of God's grace, and abandoned by Heaven to a continuing in my
wickedness.

Under these reflections I continued very pensive and sad for near month,
and did not go down to the Bath, having no inclination to be with the
woman whom I was with before; lest, as I thought, she should prompt
me to some wicked course of life again, as she had done; and besides, I
was very loth she should know I was cast off as above.

And now I was greatly perplexed about my little boy. It was death to me
to part with the child, and yet when I considered the danger of being one
time or other left with him to keep without a maintenance to support
him, I then resolved to leave him where he was; but then I concluded
also to be near him myself too, that I then might have the satisfaction of
seeing him, without the care of providing for him.

I sent my gentleman a short letter, therefore, that I had obeyed his

orders in all things but that of going back to the Bath, which I could not
think of for many reasons; that however parting from him was a wound
to me that I could never recover, yet that I was fully satisfied his
reflections were just, and would be very far from desiring to obstruct his
reformation or repentance.

Then I represented my own circumstances to him in the most moving

terms that I was able. I told him that those unhappy distresses which
first moved him to a generous and an honest friendship for me, would, I
hope, move him to a little concern for me now, though the criminal part
of our correspondence, which I believed neither of us intended to fall
into at the time, was broken off; that I desired to repent as sincerely as
he had done, but entreated him to put me in some condition that I might
not be exposed to the temptations which the devil never fails to excite us
to from the frightful prospect of poverty and distress; and if he had the
least apprehensions of my being troublesome to him, I begged he would
put me in a posture to go back to my mother in Virginia, from when he
knew I came, and that would put an end to all his fears on that account. I
concluded, that if he would send me #50 more to facilitate my going
away, I would send him back a general release, and would promise never
to disturb him more with any importunities; unless it was to hear of the
well-doing of the child, whom, if I found my mother living and my
 111

circumstances able, I would send for to come over to me, and take him
also effectually off his hands.

This was indeed all a cheat thus far, viz. that I had no intention to go to
Virginia, a the account of my former affairs there may convince anybody
of; but the business was to get this last #50 of him, if possible, knowing
well enough it would be the last penny I was ever to expect.

However, the argument I used, namely, of giving him a general release,

and never troubling him any more, prevailed effectually with him, and he
sent me a bill for the money by a person who brought with him a general
release for me to sign, and which I frankly signed, and received the
money; and thus, though full sore against my will, a final end was put to
this affair.

And here I cannot but reflect upon the unhappy consequence of too great
freedoms between persons stated as we were, upon the pretence of
innocent intentions, love of friendship, and the like; for the flesh has
generally so great a share in those friendships, that is great odds but
inclination prevails at last over the most solemn resolutions; and that
vice breaks in at the breaches of decency, which really innocent
friendship ought to preserve with the greatest strictness. But I leave the
readers of these things to their own just reflections, which they will be
more able to make effectual than I, who so soon forgot myself, and am
therefore but a very indifferent monitor.

I was now a single person again, as I may call myself; I was loosed from
all the obligations either of wedlock or mistress-ship in the world, except
my husband the linen-draper, whom, I having not now heard from in
almost fifteen years, nobody could blame me for thinking myself entirely
freed from; seeing also he had at his going away told me, that if I did not
hear frequently from him, I should conclude he was dead, and I might
freely marry again to whom I pleased.

I now began to cast up my accounts. I had by many letters and much

importunity, and with the intercession of my mother too, had a second
return of some goods from my brother (as I now call him) in Virginia, to
make up the damage of the cargo I brought away with me, and this too
was upon the condition of my sealing a general release to him, and to
send it him by his correspondent at Bristol, which, though I thought hard
 112

of, yet I was obliged to promise to do. However, I managed so well in this
case, that I got my goods away before the release was signed, and then I
always found something or other to say to evade the thing, and to put off
the signing it at all; till at length I pretended I must write to my brother,
and have his answer, before I could do it.

Including this recruit, and before I got the last #50, I found my strength
to amount, put all together, to about #400, so that with that I had about
#450. I had saved above #100 more, but I met with a disaster with that,
which was this--that a goldsmith in whose hands I had trusted it, broke,
so I lost #70 of my money, the man's composition not making above #30
out of his #100. I had a little plate, but not much, and was well enough
stocked with clothes and linen.

With this stock I had the world to begin again; but you are to consider
that I was not now the same woman as when I lived at Redriff; for, first
of all, I was near twenty years older, and did not look the better for my
age, nor for my rambles to Virginia and back again; and though I omitted
nothing that might set me out to advantage, except painting, for that I
never stooped to, and had pride enough to think I did not want it, yet
there would always be some difference seen between five-and-twenty
and two-and-forty.

I cast about innumerable ways for my future state of life, and began to
consider very seriously what I should do, but nothing offered. I took care
to make the world take me for something more than I was, and had it
given out that I was a fortune, and that my estate was in my own hands;
the last of which was very true, the first of it was as above. I had no
acquaintance, which was one of my worst misfortunes, and the
consequence of that was, I had no adviser, at least who could assist and
advise together; and above all, I had nobody to whom I could in
confidence commit the secret of my circumstances to, and could depend
upon for their secrecy and fidelity; and I found by experience, that to be
friendless in the worst condition, next to being in want that a woman can
be reduced to: I say a woman, because 'tis evident men can be their own
advisers, and their own directors, and know how to work themselves out
of difficulties and into business better than women; but if a woman has
no friend to communicate her affairs to, and to advise and assist her, 'tis
ten to one but she is undone; nay, and the more money she has, the more
 113

danger she is in of being wronged and deceived; and this was my case in
the affair of the #100 which I left in the hands of the goldsmith, as above,
whose credit, it seems, was upon the ebb before, but I, that had no
knowledge of things and nobody to consult with, knew nothing of it, and
so lost my money.

In the next place, when a woman is thus left desolate and void of counsel,
she is just like a bag of money or a jewel dropped on the highway, which
is a prey to the next comer; if a man of virtue and upright principles
happens to find it, he will have it cried, and the owner may come to hear
of it again; but how many times shall such a thing fall into hands that
will make no scruple of seizing it for their own, to once that it shall come
into good hands?

This was evidently my case, for I was now a loose, unguided creature,
and had no help , no assistance, no guide for my conduct; I knew what I
aimed at and what I wanted, but knew nothing how to pursue the end by
direct means. I wanted to be placed in a settle state of living, and had I
happened to meet with a sober, good husband, I should have been as
faithful and true a wife to him as virtue itself could have formed. If I had
been otherwise, the vice came in always at the door of necessity, not at
the door of inclination; and I understood too well, by the want of it, what
the value of a settled life was, to do anything to forfeit the felicity of it;
nay, I should have made the better wife for all the difficulties I had
passed through, by a great deal; nor did I in any of the time that I had
been a wife give my husbands the least uneasiness on account of my
behaviour.

But all this was nothing; I found no encouraging prospect. I waited; I

lived regularly, and with as much frugality as became my circumstances,
but nothing offered, nothing presented, and the main stock wasted
apace. What to do I knew not; the terror of approaching poverty lay hard
upon my spirits. I had some money, but where to place it I knew not, nor
would the interest of it maintain me, at least not in London.

At length a new scene opened. There was in the house where I lodged a
north-country woman that went for a gentlewoman, and nothing was
more frequent in her discourse than her account of the cheapness of
provisions, and the easy way of living in her country; how plentiful and
how cheap everything was, what good company they kept, and the like;
 114

till at last I told her she almost tempted me to go and live in her country;
for I that was a widow, though I had sufficient to live on, yet had no way
of increasing it; and that I found I could not live here under #100 a year,
unless I kept no company, no servant, made no appearance, and buried
myself in privacy, as if I was obliged to it by necessity.

I should have observed, that she was always made to believe, as

everybody else was, that I was a great fortune, or at least that I had three
or four thousand pounds, if not more, and all in my own hands; and she
was mighty sweet upon me when she thought me inclined in the least to
go into her country. She said she had a sister lived near Liverpool, that
her brother was a considerable gentleman there, and had a great estate
also in Ireland; that she would go down there in about two months, and
if I would give her my company thither, I should be as welcome as herself
for a month or more as I pleased, till I should see how I liked the
country; and if I thought fit to live there, she would undertake they
would take care, though they did not entertain lodgers themselves, they
would recommend me to some agreeable family, where I should be
placed to my content.

If this woman had known my real circumstances, she would never have
laid so many snares, and taken so many weary steps to catch a poor
desolate creature that was good for little when it was caught; and indeed
I, whose case was almost desperate, and thought I could not be much
worse, was not very anxious about what might befall me, provided they
did me no personal injury; so I suffered myself, though not without a
great deal of invitation and great professions of sincere friendship and
real kindness--I say, I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to go with
her, and accordingly I packed up my baggage, and put myself in a
posture for a journey, though I did not absolutely know whither I was to
go.

And now I found myself in great distress; what little I had in the world
was all in money, except as before, a little plate, some linen, and my
clothes; as for my household stuff, I had little or none, for I had lived
always in lodgings; but I had not one friend in the world with whom to
trust that little I had, or to direct me how to dispose of it, and this
perplexed me night and day. I thought of the bank, and of the other
companies in London, but I had no friend to commit the management of
 115

it to, and keep and carry about with me bank bills, tallies, orders, and
such things, I looked upon at as unsafe; that if they were lost, my money
was lost, and then I was undone; and, on the other hand, I might be
robbed and perhaps murdered in a strange place for them. This
perplexed me strangely, and what to do I knew not.

It came in my thoughts one morning that I would go to the bank myself,

where I had often been to receive the interest of some bills I had, which
had interest payable on them, and where I had found a clerk, to whom I
applied myself, very honest and just to me, and particularly so fair one
time that when I had mistold my money, and taken less than my due,
and was coming away, he set me to rights and gave me the rest, which he
might have put into his own pocket.

I went to him and represented my case very plainly, and asked if he

would trouble himself to be my adviser, who was a poor friendless
widow, and knew not what to do. He told me, if I desired his opinion of
anything within the reach of his business, he would do his endeavour
that I should not be wronged, but that he would also help me to a good
sober person who was a grave man of his acquaintance, who was a clerk
in such business too, though not in their house, whose judgment was
good, and whose honesty I might depend upon. 'For,' added he, 'I will
answer for him, and for every step he takes; if he wrongs you, madam, of
one farthing, it shall lie at my door, I will make it good; and he delights
to assist people in such cases--he does it as an act of charity.'

I was a little at a stand in this discourse; but after some pause I told him
I had rather have depended upon him, because I had found him honest,
but if that could not be, I would take his recommendation sooner than
any one's else. 'I dare say, madam,' says he, 'that you will be as well
satisfied with my friend as with me, and he is thoroughly able to assist
you, which I am not.' It seems he had his hands full of the business of the
bank, and had engaged to meddle with no other business that that of his
office, which I heard afterwards, but did not understand then. He added,
that his friend should take nothing of me for his advice or assistance, and
this indeed encouraged me very much.

He appointed the same evening, after the bank was shut and business
over, for me to meet him and his friend. And indeed as soon as I saw his
friend, and he began but to talk of the affair, I was fully satisfied that I
 116

had a very honest man to deal with; his countenance spoke it, and his
character, as I heard afterwards, was everywhere so good, that I had no
room for any more doubts upon me.

After the first meeting, in which I only said what I had said before, we
parted, and he appointed me to come the next day to him, telling me I
might in the meantime satisfy myself of him by inquiry, which, however,
I knew not how well to do, having no acquaintance myself.

Accordingly I met him the next day, when I entered more freely with him
into my case. I told him my circumstances at large: that I was a widow
come over from American, perfectly desolate and friendless; that I had a
little money, and but a little, and was almost distracted for fear of losing
it, having no friend in the world to trust with the management of it; that
I was going into the north of England to live cheap, that my stock might
not waste; that I would willingly lodge my money in the bank, but that I
durst not carry the bills about me, and the like, as above; and how to
correspond about it, or with whom, I knew not.

He told me I might lodge the money in the bank as an account, and its
being entered into the books would entitle me to the money at any time,
and if I was in the north I might draw bills on the cashier and receive it
when I would; but that then it would be esteemed as running cash, and
the bank would give no interest for it; that I might buy stock with it, and
so it would lie in store for me, but that then if I wanted to dispose of it, I
must come up to town on purpose to transfer it, and even it would be
with some difficulty I should receive the half-yearly dividend, unless I
was here in person, or had some friend I could trust with having the
stock in him name to do it for me, and that would have the same
difficulty in it as before; and with that he looked hard at me and smiled a
little. At last, says he, 'Why do you not get a head steward, madam, that
may take you and your money together into keeping, and then you would
have the trouble taken off your hands?' 'Ay, sir, and the money too, it
may be,' said I; 'for truly I find the hazard that way is as much as 'tis
t'other way'; but I remember I said secretly to myself, 'I wish you would
ask me the question fairly, I would consider very seriously on it before I
said No.'

He went on a good way with me, and I thought once or twice he was in
earnest, but to my real affliction, I found at last he had a wife; but when
 117

he owned he had a wife he shook his head, and said with some concern,
that indeed he had a wife, and no wife. I began to think he had been in
the condition of my late lover, and that his wife had been distempered or
lunatic, or some such thing. However, we had not much more discourse
at that time, but he told me he was in too much hurry of business then,
but that if I would come home to his house after their business was over,
he would by that time consider what might be done for me, to put my
affairs in a posture of security. I told him I would come, and desired to
know where he lived. He gave me a direction in writing, and when he
gave it me he read it to me, and said, 'There 'tis, madam, if you dare trust
yourself with me.' 'Yes, sir,' said I, 'I believe I may venture to trust you
with myself, for you have a wife, you say, and I don't want a husband;
besides, I dare trust you with my money, which is all I have in the world,
and if that were gone, I may trust myself anywhere.'

He said some things in jest that were very handsome and mannerly, and
would have pleased me very well if they had been in earnest; but that
passed over, I took the directions, and appointed to attend him at his
house at seven o'clock the same evening.

When I came he made several proposals for my placing my money in the

bank, in order to my having interest for it; but still some difficult or other
came in the way, which he objected as not safe; and I found such a
sincere disinterested honesty in him, that I began to muse with myself,
that I had certainly found the honest man I wanted, and that I could
never put myself into better hands; so I told him with a great deal of
frankness that I had never met with a man or woman yet that I could
trust, or in whom I could think myself safe, but that I saw he was so
disinterestedly concerned for my safety, that I said I would freely trust
him with the management of that little I had, if he would accept to be
steward for a poor widow that could give him no salary.

He smiled and, standing up, with great respect saluted me. He told me
he could not but take it very kindly that I had so good an opinion of him;
that he would not deceive me, that he would do anything in his power to
serve me, and expect no salary; but that he could not by any means
accept of a trust, that it might bring him to be suspected of self-interest,
and that if I should die he might have disputes with my executors, which
he should be very loth to encumber himself with. I told him if those were
 118

all his objections I would soon remove them, and convince him that
there was not the least room for any difficulty; for that, first, as for
suspecting him, if ever I should do it, now is the time to suspect him, and
not put the trust into his hands, and whenever I did suspect him, he
could but throw it up then and refuse to go any further. Then, as to
executors, I assured him I had no heirs, nor any relations in England,
and I should alter my condition before I died, and then his trust and
trouble should cease together, which, however, I had no prospect of yet;
but I told him if I died as I was, it should be all his own, and he would
deserve it by being so faithful to me as I was satisfied he would be.

He changed his countenance at this discourse, and asked me how I came

to have so much good-will for him; and, looking very much pleased, said
he might very lawfully wish he was a single man for my sake. I smiled,
and told him as he was not, my offer could have no design upon him in it,
and to wish, as he did, was not to be allowed, 'twas criminal to his wife.
He told me I was wrong. 'For,' says he, 'madam, as I said before, I have a
wife and no wife, and 'twould be no sin to me to wish her hanged, if that
were all.' 'I know nothing of your circumstances that way, sir,' said I; 'but
it cannot be innocent to wish your wife dead.' 'I tell you,' says he again,
'she is a wife and no wife; you don't know what I am, or what she is.'

'That's true,' said I; 'sir, I do not know what you are, but I believe you to
be an honest man, and that's the cause of all my confidence in you.'

'Well, well,' says he, 'and so I am, I hope, too. but I am something else
too, madam; for,' says he, 'to be plain with you, I am a cuckold, and she
is a whore.' He spoke it in a kind of jest, but it was with such an awkward
smile, that I perceived it was what struck very close to him, and he
looked dismally when he said it.

'That alters the case indeed, sir,' said I, 'as to that part you were speaking
of; but a cuckold, you know, may be an honest man; it does not alter that
case at all. Besides, I think,' said I, 'since your wife is so dishonest to you,
you are too honest to her to own her for your wife; but that,' said I, 'is
what I have nothing to do with.'

'Nay,' says he, 'I do not think to clear my hands of her; for, to be plain
with you, madam,' added he, 'I am no contended cuckold neither: on the
 119

other hand, I assure you it provokes me the highest degree, but I can't
help myself; she that will be a whore, will be a whore.'

I waived the discourse and began to talk of my business; but I found he

could not have done with it, so I let him alone, and he went on to tell me
all the circumstances of his case, too long to relate here; particularly, that
having been out of England some time before he came to the post he was
in, she had had two children in the meantime by an officer of the army;
and that when he came to England and, upon her submission, took her
again, and maintained her very well, yet she ran away from him with a
linen-draper's apprentice, robbed him of what she could come at, and
continued to live from him still. 'So that, madam,' says he, 'she is a whore
not by necessity, which is the common bait of your sex, but by
inclination, and for the sake of the vice.'

Well, I pitied him, and wished him well rid of her, and still would have
talked of my business, but it would not do. At last he looks steadily at me.
'Look you, madam,' says he, 'you came to ask advice of me, and I will
serve you as faithfully as if you were my own sister; but I must turn the
tables, since you oblige me to do it, and are so friendly to me, and I think
I must ask advice of you. Tell me, what must a poor abused fellow do
with a whore? What can I do to do myself justice upon her?'

'Alas! sir,' says I, ''tis a case too nice for me to advise in, but it seems she
has run away from you, so you are rid of her fairly; what can you desire
more?' 'Ay, she is gone indeed,' said he, 'but I am not clear of her for all
that.'

'That's true,' says I; 'she may indeed run you into debt, but the law has
furnished you with methods to prevent that also; you may cry her down,
as they call it.'

'No, no,' says he, 'that is not the case neither; I have taken care of all that;
'tis not that part that I speak of, but I would be rid of her so that I might
marry again.'

'Well, sir,' says I, 'then you must divorce her. If you can prove what you
say, you may certainly get that done, and then, I suppose, you are free.'

'That's very tedious and expensive,' says he.

 120

'Why,' says I, 'if you can get any woman you like to take your word, I
suppose your wife would not dispute the liberty with you that she takes
herself.'

'Ay,' says he, 'but 'twould be hard to bring an honest woman to do that;
and for the other sort,' says he, 'I have had enough of her to meddle with
any more whores.'

It occurred to me presently, 'I would have taken your word with all my
heart, if you had but asked me the question'; but that was to myself. To
him I replied, 'Why, you shut the door against any honest woman
accepting you, for you condemn all that should venture upon you at
once, and conclude, that really a woman that takes you now can't be
honest.'

'Why,' says he, 'I wish you would satisfy me that an honest woman would
take me; I'd venture it'; and then turns short upon me, 'Will you take me,
madam?'

'That's not a fair question,' says I, 'after what you have said; however, lest
you should think I wait only for a recantation of it, I shall answer you
plainly, No, not I; my business is of another kind with you, and I did not
expect you would have turned my serious application to you, in my own
distracted case, into a comedy.'

'Why, madam,' says he, 'my case is as distracted as yours can be, and I
stand in as much need of advice as you do, for I think if I have not relief
somewhere, I shall be made myself, and I know not what course to take, I
protest to you.'

'Why, sir,' says I, ''tis easy to give advice in your case, much easier than it
is in mine.' 'Speak then,' says he, 'I beg of you, for now you encourage
me.'

'Why,' says I, 'if your case is so plain as you say it is, you may be legally
divorced, and then you may find honest women enough to ask the
question of fairly; the sex is not so scarce that you can want a wife.'

'Well, then,' said he, 'I am in earnest; I'll take your advice; but shall I ask
you one question seriously beforehand?'

'Any question,' said I, 'but that you did before.'

 121

'No, that answer will not do,' said he, 'for, in short, that is the question I
shall ask.'

'You may ask what questions you please, but you have my answer to that
already,' said I. 'Besides, sir,' said I, 'can you think so ill of me as that I
would give any answer to such a question beforehand? Can any woman
alive believe you in earnest, or think you design anything but to banter
her?'

'Well, well,' says he, 'I do not banter you, I am in earnest; consider of it.'

'But, sir,' says I, a little gravely, 'I came to you about my own business; I
beg of you to let me know, what you will advise me to do?'

'I will be prepared,' says he, 'against you come again.'

'Nay,' says I, 'you have forbid my coming any more.'

'Why so?' said he, and looked a little surprised.

 122

CHAPTER 7

The next day she brought it, and the copy of her three bills was a follows:

1. For three months' lodging in her house, including my diet, at 10s. a

week... . . .6#, 0s., 0d.

2. For a nurse for the month, and use of childbed linen... .... .... .... .... .1#,
10s., 0d.

3. For a minister to christen the child, and to the godfathers and clerk...
.... .1#, 10s., 0d.

4. For a supper at the christening if I had five friends at it... .... .... .... .... .
.1#, 0s., 0d.

For her fees as a midwife, and the taking off the trouble of the parish...
.... . 3#, 3s., 0d.

To her maid servant attending . 0#, 10s., 0d.

This was the first bill; the second was the same terms:-

1. For three months' lodging and diet, etc., at 20s. per week... .... .... ....
.13#, 0s., 0d.

2. For a nurse for the month, and the use of linen and lace... .... .... .... .
.2#, 10s., 0d.

3. For the minister to christen the child, etc., as above... .... .... .... . . . 2#,
0s., 0d.

4. For supper and for sweetmeats... .... .... .... .... .... 3#, 3s., 0d.

For her fees as above... . . . 5#, 5s., 0d.

For a servant-maid... .... . 1#, 0s., 0d.

 123

This was the second-rate bill; the third, she said, was for a degree higher,
and when the father or friends appeared:

1. For three months' lodging and diet, having two rooms and a garret for
a servant . . 30#, 0s., 0d.,

2. For a nurse for the month, and the finest suit of childbed linen... .... ....
. . . 4#, 4s., 0d.

3. For the minister to christen the child, etc.... .... .... .... .... .... .... 2#, 10s.,
0d.

4. For a super, the gentlemen to send in the wine... .... .... .... .... .... 6#,
0s., 0d.

For my fees, etc.... .... .... . . . 10#, 10s., 0d.

The maid, besides their own maid, only... .... .... .... .... .... .... 0#, 10s., 0d.
53#, 14s., 0d.

I looked upon all three bills, and smiled, and told her I did not see but
that she was very reasonable in her demands, all things considered, and
for that I did not doubt but her accommodations were good.

She told me I should be judge of that when I saw them. I told her I was
sorry to tell her that I geared I must be her lowest rated customer. 'And
perhaps, madam,' said I, 'you will make me the less welcome upon that
account.' 'No, not at all,' said she; 'for where I have one of the third sort I
have two of the second, and four to one of the first, and I get as much by
them in proportion as by any; but if you doubt my care of you, I will
allow any friend you have to overlook and see if you are well waited on or
no.'

Then she explained the particulars of her bill. 'In the first place, madam,'
said she, 'I would have you observe that here is three months' keeping;
you are but ten shillings a week; I undertake to say you will not complain
of my table. I suppose,' says she, 'you do not live cheaper where you are
now?' 'No, indeed,' said I, 'not so cheap, for I give six shillings per week
for my chamber, and find my own diet as well as I can, which costs me a
great deal more.'
 124

'Then, madam,' says she, 'if the child should not live, or should be dead-
born, as you know sometimes happens, then there is the minister's
article saved; and if you have no friends to come to you, you may save the
expense of a supper; so that take those articles out, madam,' says she,
'your lying in will not cost you above #5, 3s. in all more than your
ordinary charge of living.'

This was the most reasonable thing that I ever heard of; so I smiled, and
told her I would come and be her customer; but I told her also, that as I
had two months and more to do, I might perhaps be obliged to stay
longer with her than three months, and desired to know if she would not
be obliged to remove me before it was proper. No, she said; her house
was large, and besides, she never put anybody to remove, that had lain
in, till they were willing to go; and if she had more ladies offered, she was
not so ill-beloved among her neighbours but she could provide
accommodations for twenty, if there was occasion.

I found she was an eminent lady in her way; and, in short, I agreed to put
myself into her hands, and promised her. She then talked of other things,
looked about into my accommodations where I was, found fault with my
wanting attendance and conveniences, and that I should not be used so
at her house. I told her I was shy of speaking, for the woman of the house
looked stranger, or at least I thought so, since I had been ill, because I
was with child; and I was afraid she would put some affront or other
upon me, supposing that I had been able to give but a slight account of
myself.

'Oh dear,' said she, 'her ladyship is no stranger to these things; she has
tried to entertain ladies in your condition several times, but she could
not secure the parish; and besides, she is not such a nice lady as you take
her to be; however, since you are a-going, you shall not meddle with her,
but I'll see you are a little better looked after while you are here than I
think you are, and it shall not cost you the more neither.'

I did not understand her at all; however, I thanked her, and so we

parted. The next morning she sent me a chicken roasted and hot, and a
pint bottle of sherry, and ordered the maid to tell me that she was to wait
on me every day as long as I stayed there.
 125

This was surprisingly good and kind, and I accepted it very willingly. At
night she sent to me again, to know if I wanted anything, and how I did,
and to order the maid to come to her in the morning with my dinner. The
maid had orders to make me some chocolate in the morning before she
came away, and did so, and at noon she brought me the sweetbread of a
breast of veal, whole, and a dish of soup for my dinner; and after this
manner she nursed me up at a distance, so that I was mightily well
pleased, and quickly well, for indeed my dejections before were the
principal part of my illness.

I expected, as is usually the case among such people, that the servant she
sent me would have been some imprudent brazen wench of Drury Lane
breeding, and I was very uneasy at having her with me upon that
account; so I would not let her lie in that house the first night by any
means, but had my eyes about me as narrowly as if she had been a public
thief.

My gentlewoman guessed presently what was the matter, and sent her
back with a short note, that I might depend upon the honesty of her
maid; that she would be answerable for her upon all accounts; and that
she took no servants into her house without very good security for their
fidelity. I was then perfectly easy; and indeed the maid's behaviour spoke
for itself, for a modester, quieter, soberer girl never came into anybody's
family, and I found her so afterwards.

As soon as I was well enough to go abroad, I went with the maid to see
the house, and to see the apartment I was to have; and everything was so
handsome and so clean and well, that, in short, I had nothing to say, but
was wonderfully pleased and satisfied with what I had met with, which,
considering the melancholy circumstances I was in, was far beyond what
I looked for.

It might be expected that I should give some account of the nature of the
wicked practices of this woman, in whose hands I was now fallen; but it
would be too much encouragement to the vice, to let the world see what
easy measures were here taken to rid the women's unwelcome burthen of
a child clandestinely gotten. This grave matron had several sorts of
practice, and this was one particular, that if a child was born, though not
in her house (for she had occasion to be called to many private labours),
she had people at hand, who for a piece of money would take the child off
 126

their hands, and off from the hands of the parish too; and those children,
as she said, were honestly provided for and taken care of. What should
become of them all, considering so many, as by her account she was
concerned with, I cannot conceive.

I had many times discourses upon that subject with her; but she was full
of this argument, that she save the life of many an innocent lamb, as she
called them, which would otherwise perhaps have been murdered; and of
many women who, made desperate by the misfortune, would otherwise
be tempted to destroy their children, and bring themselves to the
gallows. I granted her that this was true, and a very commendable thing,
provided the poor children fell into good hands afterwards, and were not
abused, starved, and neglected by the nurses that bred them up. She
answered, that she always took care of that, and had no nurses in her
business but what were very good, honest people, and such as might be
depended upon.

I could say nothing to the contrary, and so was obliged to say, 'Madam, I
do not question you do your part honestly, but what those people do
afterwards is the main question'; and she stopped my mouth again with
saying that she took the utmost care about it.

The only thing I found in all her conversation on these subjects that gave
me any distaste, was, that one time in discouraging about my being far
gone with child, and the time I expected to come, she said something
that looked as if she could help me off with my burthen sooner, if I was
willing; or, in English, that she could give me something to make me
miscarry, if I had a desire to put an end to my troubles that way; but I
soon let her see that I abhorred the thoughts of it; and, to do her justice,
she put it off so cleverly, that I could not say she really intended it, or
whether she only mentioned the practice as a horrible thing; for she
couched her words so well, and took my meaning so quickly, that she
gave her negative before I could explain myself.

To bring this part into as narrow a compass as possible, I quitted my

lodging at St. Jones's and went to my new governess, for so they called
her in the house, and there I was indeed treated with so much courtesy,
so carefully looked to, so handsomely provided, and everything so well,
that I was surprised at it, and could not at first see what advantage my
governess made of it; but I found afterwards that she professed to make
 127

no profit of lodgers' diet, nor indeed could she get much by it, but that
her profit lay in the other articles of her management, and she made
enough that way, I assure you; for 'tis scarce credible what practice she
had, as well abroad as at home, and yet all upon the private account, or,
in plain English, the whoring account.

While I was in her house, which was near four months, she had no less
than twelve ladies of pleasure brought to bed within the doors, and I
think she had two-and-thirty, or thereabouts, under her conduct without
doors, whereof one, as nice as she was with me, was lodged with my old
landlady at St. Jones's.

This was a strange testimony of the growing vice of the age, and such a
one, that as bad as I had been myself, it shocked my very senses. I began
to nauseate the place I was in and, about all, the wicked practice; and yet
I must say that I never saw, or do I believe there was to be seen, the least
indecency in the house the whole time I was there.

Not a man was ever seen to come upstairs, except to visit the lying-in
ladies within their month, nor then without the old lady with them, who
made it a piece of honour of her management that no man should touch
a woman, no, not his own wife, within the month; nor would she permit
any man to lie in the house upon any pretence whatever, no, not though
she was sure it was with his own wife; and her general saying for it was,
that she cared not how many children were born in her house, but she
would have none got there if she could help it.

It might perhaps be carried further than was needful, but it was an error
of the right hand if it was an error, for by this she kept up the reputation,
such as it was, of her business, and obtained this character, that though
she did take care of the women when they were debauched, yet she was
not instrumental to their being debauched at all; and yet it was a wicked
trade she drove too.

While I was there, and before I was brought to bed, I received a letter
from my trustee at the bank, full of kind, obliging things, and earnestly
pressing me to return to London. It was near a fortnight old when it
came to me, because it had been first sent into Lancashire, and then
returned to me. He concludes with telling me that he had obtained a
decree, I think he called it, against his wife, and that he would be ready
 128

to make good his engagement to me, if I would accept of him, adding a

great many protestations of kindness and affection, such as he would
have been far from offering if he had known the circumstances I had
been in, and which as it was I had been very far from deserving.

I returned an answer to his letter, and dated it at Liverpool, but sent it by

messenger, alleging that it came in cover to a friend in town. I gave him
joy of his deliverance, but raised some scruples at the lawfulness of his
marrying again, and told him I supposed he would consider very
seriously upon that point before he resolved on it, the consequence being
too great for a man of his judgment to venture rashly upon a thing of that
nature; so concluded, wishing him very well in whatever he resolved,
without letting him into anything of my own mind, or giving any answer
to his proposal of my coming to London to him, but mentioned at a
distance my intention to return the latter end of the year, this being
dated in April.

I was brought to bed about the middle of May and had another brave
boy, and myself in as good condition as usual on such occasions. My
governess did her part as a midwife with the greatest art and dexterity
imaginable, and far beyond all that ever I had had any experience of
before.

Her care of me in my travail, and after in my lying in, was such, that if
she had been my own mother it could not have been better. Let none be
encouraged in their loose practices from this dexterous lady's
management, for she is gone to her place, and I dare say has left nothing
behind her that can or will come up on it.

I think I had been brought to bed about twenty-two days when I received
another letter from my friend at the bank, with the surprising news that
he had obtained a final sentence of divorce against his wife, and had
served her with it on such a day, and that he had such an answer to give
to all my scruples about his marrying again, as I could not expect, and as
he had no desire of; for that his wife, who had been under some remorse
before for her usage of him, as soon as she had the account that he had
gained his point, had very unhappily destroyed herself that same
evening.
 129

He expressed himself very handsomely as to his being concerned at her

disaster, but cleared himself of having any hand in it, and that he had
only done himself justice in a case in which he was notoriously injured
and abused. However, he said that he was extremely afflicted at it, and
had no view of any satisfaction left in his world, but only in the hope that
I would come and relieve him by my company; and then he pressed me
violently indeed to give him some hopes that I would at least come up to
town and let him see me, when he would further enter into discourse
about it.

I was exceedingly surprised at the news, and began now seriously to

reflect on my present circumstances, and the inexpressible misfortune it
was to me to have a child upon my hands, and what to do in it I knew
not. At last I opened my case at a distance to my governess. I appeared
melancholy and uneasy for several days, and she lay at me continually to
know what trouble me. I could not for my life tell her that I had an offer
of marriage, after I had so often told her that I had a husband, so that I
really knew not what to say to her. I owned I had something which very
much troubled me, but at the same time told her I could not speak of it to
any one alive.

She continued importuning me several days, but it was impossible, I told

her, for me to commit the secret to anybody. This, instead of being an
answer to her, increased her importunities; she urged her having been
trusted with the greatest secrets of this nature, that it was her business to
conceal everything, and that to discover things of that nature would be
her ruin. She asked me if ever I had found her tattling to me of other
people's affairs, and how could I suspect her? She told me, to unfold
myself to her was telling it to nobody; that she was silent as death; that it
must be a very strange case indeed that she could not help me out of; but
to conceal it was to deprive myself of all possible help , or means of help ,
and to deprive her of the opportunity of serving me. In short, she had
such a bewitching eloquence, and so great a power of persuasion that
there was no concealing anything from her.

So I resolved to unbosom myself to her. I told her the history of my

Lancashire marriage, and how both of us had been disappointed; how we
came together, and how we parted; how he absolutely discharged me, as
far as lay in him, free liberty to marry again, protesting that if he knew it
 130

he would never claim me, or disturb or expose me; that I thought I was
free, but was dreadfully afraid to venture, for fear of the consequences
that might follow in case of a discovery.

Then I told her what a good offer I had; showed her my friend's two last
letters, inviting me to come to London, and let her see with what
affection and earnestness they were written, but blotted out the name,
and also the story about the disaster of his wife, only that she was dead.

She fell a-laughing at my scruples about marrying, and told me the other
was no marriage, but a cheat on both sides; and that, as we were parted
by mutual consent, the nature of the contract was destroyed, and the
obligation was mutually discharged. She had arguments for this at the tip
of her tongue; and, in short, reasoned me out of my reason; not but that
it was too by the help of my own inclination.

But then came the great and main difficulty, and that was the child; this,
she told me in so many words, must be removed, and that so as that it
should never be possible for any one to discover it. I knew there was no
marrying without entirely concealing that I had had a child, for he would
soon have discovered by the age of it that it was born, nay, and gotten
too, since my parley with him, and that would have destroyed all the
affair.

But it touched my heart so forcibly to think of parting entirely with the

child, and, for aught I knew, of having it murdered, or starved by neglect
and ill-usage (which was much the same), that I could not think of it
without horror. I wish all those women who consent to the disposing
their children out of the way, as it is called, for decency sake, would
consider that 'tis only a contrived method for murder; that is to say, a-
killing their children with safety.

It is manifest to all that understand anything of children, that we are

born into the world helpless, and incapable either to supply our own
wants or so much as make them known; and that without help we must
perish; and this help requires not only an assisting hand, whether of the
mother or somebody else, but there are two things necessary in that
assisting hand, that is, care and skill; without both which, half the
children that are born would die, nay, thought they were not to be denied
food; and one half more of those that remained would be cripples or
 131

fools, lose their limbs, and perhaps their sense. I question not but that
these are partly the reasons why affection was placed by nature in the
hearts of mothers to their children; without which they would never be
able to give themselves up, as 'tis necessary they should, to the care and
waking pains needful to the support of their children.

Since this care is needful to the life of children, to neglect them is to

murder them; again, to give them up to be managed by those people who
have none of that needful affection placed by nature in them, is to
neglect them in the highest degree; nay, in some it goes farther, and is a
neglect in order to their being lost; so that 'tis even an intentional
murder, whether the child lives or dies.

All those things represented themselves to my view, and that is the

blackest and most frightful form: and as I was very free with my
governess, whom I had now learned to call mother, I represented to her
all the dark thoughts which I had upon me about it, and told her what
distress I was in. She seemed graver by much at this part than at the
other; but as she was hardened in these things beyond all possibility of
being touched with the religious part, and the scruples about the murder,
so she was equally impenetrable in that part which related to affection.
She asked me if she had not been careful and tender to me in my lying in,
as if I had been her own child. I told her I owned she had. 'Well, my
dear,' says she, 'and when you are gone, what are you to me? And what
would it be to me if you were to be hanged? Do you think there are not
women who, as it is their trade and they get their bread by it, value
themselves upon their being as careful of children as their own mothers
can be, and understand it rather better? Yes, yes, child,' says she, 'fear it
not; how were we nursed ourselves? Are you sure you was nursed up by
your own mother? and yet you look fat and fair, child,' says the old
beldam; and with that she stroked me over the face. 'Never be concerned,
child,' says she, going on in her drolling way; 'I have no murderers about
me; I employ the best and the honestest nurses that can be had, and have
as few children miscarry under their hands as there would if they were
all nursed by mothers; we want neither care nor skill.'

She touched me to the quick when she asked if I was sure that I was
nursed by my own mother; on the contrary I was sure I was not; and I
trembled, and looked pale at the very expression. 'Sure,' said I to myself,
 132

'this creature cannot be a witch, or have any conversation with a spirit,

that can inform her what was done with me before I was able to know it
myself'; and I looked at her as if I had been frightened; but reflecting that
it could not be possible for her to know anything about me, that disorder
went off, and I began to be easy, but it was not presently.

She perceived the disorder I was in, but did not know the meaning of it;
so she ran on in her wild talk upon the weakness of my supposing that
children were murdered because they were not all nursed by the mother,
and to persuade me that the children she disposed of were as well used
as if the mothers had the nursing of them themselves.

'It may be true, mother,' says I, 'for aught I know, but my doubts are very
strongly grounded indeed.' 'Come, then,' says she, 'let's hear some of
them.' 'Why, first,' says I, 'you give a piece of money to these people to
take the child off the parent's hands, and to take care of it as long as it
lives. Now we know, mother,' said I, 'that those are poor people, and
their gain consists in being quit of the charge as soon as they can; how
can I doubt but that, as it is best for them to have the child die, they are
not over solicitous about life?'

'This is all vapours and fancy,' says the old woman; 'I tell you their credit
depends upon the child's life, and they are as careful as any mother of
you all.'

'O mother,' says I, 'if I was but sure my little baby would be carefully
looked to, and have justice done it, I should be happy indeed; but it is
impossible I can be satisfied in that point unless I saw it, and to see it
would be ruin and destruction to me, as now my case stands; so what to
do I know not.'

'A fine story!' says the governess. 'You would see the child, and you
would not see the child; you would be concealed and discovered both
together. These are things impossible, my dear; so you must e'en do as
other conscientious mothers have done before you, and be contented
with things as they must be, though they are not as you wish them to be.'

I understood what she meant by conscientious mothers; she would have

said conscientious whores, but she was not willing to disoblige me, for
really in this case I was not a whore, because legally married, the force of
former marriage excepted.
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However, let me be what I would, I was not come up to that pitch of

hardness common to the profession; I mean, to be unnatural, and
regardless of the safety of my child; and I preserved this honest affection
so long, that I was upon the point of giving up my friend at the bank, who
lay so hard at me to come to him and marry him, that, in short, there was
hardly any room to deny him.

At last my old governess came to me, with her usual assurance. 'Come,
my dear,' says she, 'I have found out a way how you shall be at a certainty
that your child shall be used well, and yet the people that take care of it
shall never know you, or who the mother of the child is.'

'Oh mother,' says I, 'if you can do so, you will engage me to you for ever.'
'Well,' says she, 'are you willing to be a some small annual expense, more
than what we usually give to the people we contract with?' 'Ay,' says I,
'with all my heart, provided I may be concealed.' 'As to that,' says the
governess, 'you shall be secure, for the nurse shall never so much as dare
to inquire about you, and you shall once or twice a year go with me and
see your child, and see how 'tis used, and be satisfied that it is in good
hands, nobody knowing who you are.'

'Why,' said I, 'do you think, mother, that when I come to see my child, I
shall be able to conceal my being the mother of it? Do you think that
possible?'

'Well, well,' says my governess, 'if you discover it, the nurse shall be
never the wiser; for she shall be forbid to ask any questions about you, or
to take any notice. If she offers it, she shall lose the money which you are
suppose to give her, and the child shall be taken from her too.'

I was very well pleased with this. So the next week a countrywoman was
brought from Hertford, or thereabouts, who was to take the child off our
hands entirely for #10 in money. But if I would allow #5 a year more of
her, she would be obliged to bring the child to my governess's house as
often as we desired, or we should come down and look at it, and see how
well she used it.

The woman was very wholesome-looking, a likely woman, a cottager's

wife, but she had very good clothes and linen, and everything well about
her; and with a heavy heart and many a tear, I let her have my child. I
had been down at Hertford, and looked at her and at her dwelling, which
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I liked well enough; and I promised her great things if she would be kind
to the child, so she knew at first word that I was the child's mother. But
she seemed to be so much out of the way, and to have no room to inquire
after me, that I thought I was safe enough. So, in short, I consented to let
her have the child, and I gave her #10; that is to say, I gave it to my
governess, who gave it the poor woman before my face, she agreeing
never to return the child back to me, or to claim anything more for its
keeping or bringing up; only that I promised, if she took a great deal of
care of it, I would give her something more as often as I came to see it; so
that I was not bound to pay the #5, only that I promised my governess I
would do it. And thus my great care was over, after a manner, which
though it did not at all satisfy my mind, yet was the most convenient for
me, as my affairs then stood, of any that could be thought of at that time.

I then began to write to my friend at the bank in a more kindly style, and
particularly about the beginning of July I sent him a letter, that I
proposed to be in town some time in August. He returned me an answer
in the most passionate terms imaginable, and desired me to let him have
timely notice, and he would come and meet me, two day's journey. This
puzzled me scurvily, and I did not know what answer to make of it. Once
I resolved to take the stage-coach to West Chester, on purpose only to
have the satisfaction of coming back, that he might see me really come in
the same coach; for I had a jealous thought, though I had no ground for
it at all, lest he should think I was not really in the country. And it was no
ill-grounded thought as you shall hear presently.

I endeavoured to reason myself out of it, but it was in vain; the

impression lay so strong on my mind, that it was not to be resisted. At
last it came as an addition to my new design of going into the country,
that it would be an excellent blind to my old governess, and would cover
entirely all my other affairs, for she did not know in the least whether my
new lover lived in London or in Lancashire; and when I told her my
resolution, she was fully persuaded it was in Lancashire.

Having taken my measure for this journey I let her know it, and sent the
maid that tended me, from the beginning, to take a place for me in the
coach. She would have had me let the maid have waited on me down to
the last stage, and come up again in the waggon, but I convinced her it
would not be convenient. When I went away, she told me she would
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enter into no measures for correspondence, for she saw evidently that
my affection to my child would cause me to write to her, and to visit her
too when I came to town again. I assured her it would, and so took my
leave, well satisfied to have been freed from such a house, however good
my accommodations there had been, as I have related above.

I took the place in the coach not to its full extent, but to a place called
Stone, in Cheshire, I think it is, where I not only had no manner of
business, but not so much as the least acquaintance with any person in
the town or near it. But I knew that with money in the pocket one is at
home anywhere; so I lodged there two or three days, till, watching my
opportunity, I found room in another stage-coach, and took passage back
again for London, sending a letter to my gentleman that I should be such
a certain day at Stony-Stratford, where the coachman told me he was to
lodge.

It happened to be a chance coach that I had taken up, which, having been
hired on purpose to carry some gentlemen to West Chester who were
going for Ireland, was now returning, and did not tie itself to exact times
or places as the stages did; so that, having been obliged to lie still on
Sunday, he had time to get himself ready to come out, which otherwise
he could not have done.

However, his warning was so short, that he could not reach to Stony-
Stratford time enough to be with me at night, but he met me at a place
called Brickhill the next morning, as we were just coming in to tow.

I confess I was very glad to see him, for I had thought myself a little
disappointed over-night, seeing I had gone so far to contrive my coming
on purpose. He pleased me doubly too by the figure he came in, for he
brought a very handsome (gentleman's) coach and four horses, with a
servant to attend him.

He took me out of the stage-coach immediately, which stopped at an inn

in Brickhill; and putting into the same in, he set up his own coach, and
bespoke his dinner. I asked him what he meant by that, for I was for
going forward with the journey. He said, No, I had need of a little rest
upon the road, and that was a very good sort of a house, though it was
but a little town; so we would go no farther that night, whatever came of
it.
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I did not press him much, for since he had come so to meet me, and put
himself to so much expense, it was but reasonable I should oblige him a
little too; so I was easy as to that point.

After dinner we walked to see the town, to see the church, and to view
the fields, and the country, as is usual for strangers to do; and our
landlord was our guide in going to see the church. I observed my
gentleman inquired pretty much about the parson, and I took the hint
immediately that he certainly would propose to be married; and though
it was a sudden thought, it followed presently, that, in short, I would not
refuse him; for, to be plain, with my circumstances I was in no condition
now to say No; I had no reason now to run any more such hazards.

But while these thoughts ran round in my head, which was the work but
of a few moments, I observed my landlord took him aside and whispered
to him, though not very softly neither, for so much I overheard: 'Sir, if
you shall have occasion----' the rest I could not hear, but it seems it was
to this purpose: 'Sir, if you shall have occasion for a minister, I have a
friend a little way off that will serve you, and be as private as you please.'
My gentleman answered loud enough for me to hear, 'Very well, I believe
I shall.'

I was no sooner come back to the inn but he fell upon me with irresistible
words, that since he had had the good fortune to meet me, and
everything concurred, it would be hastening his felicity if I would put an
end to the matter just there. 'What do you mean?' says I, colouring a
little. 'What, in an inn, and upon the road! Bless us all,' said I, as if I had
been surprised, 'how can you talk so?' 'Oh, I can talk so very well,' says
he, 'I came a-purpose to talk so, and I'll show you that I did'; and with
that he pulls out a great bundle of papers. 'You fright me,' said I; 'what
are all these?' 'Don't be frighted, my dear,' said he, and kissed me. This
was the first time that he had been so free to call me 'my dear'; then he
repeated it, 'Don't be frighted; you shall see what it is all'; then he laid
them all abroad. There was first the deed or sentence of divorce from his
wife, and the full evidence of her playing the whore; then there were the
certificates of the minister and churchwardens of the parish where she
lived, proving that she was buried, and intimating the manner of her
death; the copy of the coroner's warrant for a jury to sit upon her, and
the verdict of the jury, who brought it in Non compos mentis. All this was
 137

indeed to the purpose, and to give me satisfaction, though, by the way, I

was not so scrupulous, had he known all, but that I might have taken him
without it. However, I looked them all over as well as I could, and told
him that this was all very clear indeed, but that he need not have given
himself the trouble to have brought them out with him, for it was time
enough. Well, he said, it might be time enough for me, but no time but
the present time was time enough for him.

There were other papers rolled up, and I asked him what they were.
'Why, ay,' says he, 'that's the question I wanted to have you ask me'; so
he unrolls them and takes out a little shagreen case, and gives me out of
it a very fine diamond ring. I could not refuse it, if I had a mind to do so,
for he put it upon my finger; so I made him a curtsy and accepted it.
Then he takes out another ring: 'And this,' says he, 'is for another
occasion,' so he puts that in his pocket. 'Well, but let me see it, though,'
says I, and smiled; 'I guess what it is; I think you are mad.' 'I should have
been mad if I had done less,' says he, and still he did not show me, and I
had a great mind to see it; so I says, 'Well, but let me see it.' 'Hold,' says
he, 'first look here'; then he took up the roll again and read it, and
behold! it was a licence for us to be married. 'Why,' says I, 'are you
distracted? Why, you were fully satisfied that I would comply and yield at
first word, or resolved to take no denial.' 'The last is certainly the case,'
said he. 'But you may be mistaken,' said I. 'No, no,' says he, 'how can you
think so? I must not be denied, I can't be denied'; and with that he fell to
kissing me so violently, I could not get rid of him.

There was a bed in the room, and we were walking to and again, eager in
the discourse; at last he takes me by surprise in his arms, and threw me
on the bed and himself with me, and holding me fast in his arms, but
without the least offer of any indecency, courted me to consent with such
repeated entreaties and arguments, protesting his affection, and vowing
he would not let me go till I had promised him, that at last I said, 'Why,
you resolve not to be denied, indeed, I can't be denied.' 'Well, well,' said
I, and giving him a slight kiss, 'then you shan't be denied,' said I; 'let me
get up.'

He was so transported with my consent, and the kind manner of it, that I
began to think once he took it for a marriage, and would not stay for the
form; but I wronged him, for he gave over kissing me, and then giving
 138

me two or three kisses again, thanked me for my kind yielding to him;

and was so overcome with the satisfaction and joy of it, that I saw tears
stand in his eyes.

I turned from him, for it filled my eyes with tears too, and I asked him
leave to retire a little to my chamber. If ever I had a grain of true
repentance for a vicious and abominable life for twenty-four years past,
it was then. On, what a felicity is it to mankind, said I to myself, that they
cannot see into the hearts of one another! How happy had it been for me
if I had been wife to a man of so much honesty, and so much affection
from the beginning!

Then it occurred to me, 'What an abominable creature am I! and how is

this innocent gentleman going to be abused by me! How little does he
think, that having divorced a whore, he is throwing himself into the arms
of another! that he is going to marry one that has lain with two brothers,
and has had three children by her own brother! one that was born in
Newgate, whose mother was a whore, and is now a transported thief! one
that has lain with thirteen men, and has had a child since he saw me!
Poor gentleman!' said I, 'what is he going to do?' After this reproaching
myself was over, it following thus: 'Well, if I must be his wife, if it please
God to give me grace, I'll be a true wife to him, and love him suitably to
the strange excess of his passion for me; I will make him amends if
possible, by what he shall see, for the cheats and abuses I put upon him,
which he does not see.'

He was impatient for my coming out of my chamber, but finding me

long, he went downstairs and talked with my landlord about the parson.

My landlord, an officious though well-meaning fellow, had sent away for

the neighbouring clergyman; and when my gentleman began to speak of
it to him, and talk of sending for him, 'Sir,' says he to him, 'my friend is
in the house'; so without any more words he brought them together.
When he came to the minister, he asked him if he would venture to
marry a couple of strangers that were both willing. The parson said that
Mr.---had said something to him of it; that he hoped it was no
clandestine business; that he seemed to be a grave gentleman, and he
supposed madam was not a girl, so that the consent of friends should be
wanted. 'To put you out of doubt of that,' says my gentleman, 'read this
 139

paper'; and out he pulls the license. 'I am satisfied,' says the minister;
'where is the lady?' 'You shall see her presently,' says my gentleman.

When he had said thus he comes upstairs, and I was by that time come
out of my room; so he tells me the minister was below, and that he had
talked with him, and that upon showing him the license, he was free to
marry us with all his heart, 'but he asks to see you'; so he asked if I would
let him come up.

''Tis time enough,' said I, 'in the morning, is it not?' 'Why,' said he, 'my
dear, he seemed to scruple whether it was not some young girl stolen
from her parents, and I assured him we were both of age to command
our own consent; and that made him ask to see you.' 'Well,' said I, 'do as
you please'; so up they brings the parson, and a merry, good sort of
gentleman he was. He had been told, it seems, that we had met there by
accident, that I came in the Chester coach, and my gentleman in his own
coach to meet me; that we were to have met last night at Stony-Stratford,
but that he could not reach so far. 'Well, sir,' says the parson, 'every ill
turn has some good in it. The disappointment, sir,' says he to my
gentleman, 'was yours, and the good turn is mine, for if you had met at
Stony-Stratford I had not had the honour to marry you. Landlord, have
you a Common Prayer Book?'

I started as if I had been frightened. 'Lord, sir,' says I, 'what do you

mean? What, to marry in an inn, and at night too?' 'Madam,' says the
minister, 'if you will have it be in the church, you shall; but I assure you
your marriage will be as firm here as in the church; we are not tied by the
canons to marry nowhere but in the church; and if you will have it in the
church, it will be a public as a county fair; and as for the time of day, it
does not at all weigh in this case; our princes are married in their
chambers, and at eight or ten o'clock at night.'

I was a great while before I could be persuaded, and pretended not to be

willing at all to be married but in the church. But it was all grimace; so I
seemed at last to be prevailed on, and my landlord and his wife and
daughter were called up. My landlord was father and clerk and all
together, and we were married, and very merry we were; though I
confess the self-reproaches which I had upon me before lay close to me,
and extorted every now and then a deep sigh from me, which my
bridegroom took notice of, and endeavoured to encourage me, thinking,
 140

poor man, that I had some little hesitations at the step I had taken so
hastily.

We enjoyed ourselves that evening completely, and yet all was kept so
private in the inn that not a servant in the house knew of it, for my
landlady and her daughter waited on me, and would not let any of the
maids come upstairs, except while we were at supper. My landlady's
daughter I called my bridesmaid; and sending for a shopkeeper the next
morning, I gave the young woman a good suit of knots, as good as the
town would afford, and finding it was a lace-making town, I gave her
mother a piece of bone-lace for a head.

One reason that my landlord was so close was, that he was unwilling the
minister of the parish should hear of it; but for all that somebody heard
of it, so at that we had the bells set a-ringing the next morning early, and
the music, such as the town would afford, under our window; but my
landlord brazened it out, that we were married before we came thither,
only that, being his former guests, we would have our wedding-supper at
his house.

We could not find in our hearts to stir the next day; for, in short, having
been disturbed by the bells in the morning, and having perhaps not slept
overmuch before, we were so sleepy afterwards that we lay in bed till
almost twelve o'clock.

I begged my landlady that we might not have any more music in the
town, nor ringing of bells, and she managed it so well that we were very
quiet; but an odd passage interrupted all my mirth for a good while. The
great room of the house looked into the street, and my new spouse being
below stairs, I had walked to the end of the room; and it being a pleasant,
warm day, I had opened the window, and was standing at it for some air,
when I saw three gentlemen come by on horseback and go into an inn
just against us.

It was not to be concealed, nor was it so doubtful as to leave me any

room to question it, but the second of the three was my Lancashire
husband. I was frightened to death; I never was in such a consternation
in my life; I thought I should have sunk into the ground; my blood ran
chill in my veins, and I trembled as if I had been in a cold fit of ague. I
 141

say, there was no room to question the truth of it; I knew his clothes, I
knew his horse, and I knew his face.

The first sensible reflect I made was, that my husband was not by to see
my disorder, and that I was very glad of it. The gentlemen had not been
long in the house but they came to the window of their room, as is usual;
but my window was shut, you may be sure. However, I could not keep
from peeping at them, and there I saw him again, heard him call out to
one of the servants of the house for something he wanted, and received
all the terrifying confirmations of its being the same person that were
possible to be had.

My next concern was to know, if possible, what was his business there;
but that was impossible. Sometimes my imagination formed an idea of
one frightful thing, sometimes of another; sometime I thought he had
discovered me, and was come to upbraid me with ingratitude and breach
of honour; and every moment I fancied he was coming up the stairs to
insult me; and innumerable fancies came into my head of what was
never in his head, nor ever could be, unless the devil had revealed it to
him.

I remained in this fright nearly two hours, and scarce ever kept my eye
from the window or door of the inn where they were. At last, hearing a
great clatter in the passage of their inn, I ran to the window, and, to my
great satisfaction, saw them all three go out again and travel on
westward. Had they gone towards London, I should have been still in a
fright, lest I should meet him on the road again, and that he should know
me; but he went the contrary way, and so I was eased of that disorder.

We resolved to be going the next day, but about six o'clock at night we
were alarmed with a great uproar in the street, and people riding as if
they had been out of their wits; and what was it but a hue-and-cry after
three highwaymen that had robbed two coaches and some other
travellers near Dunstable Hill, and notice had, it seems, been given that
they had been seen at Brickhill at such a house, meaning the house
where those gentlemen had been.

The house was immediately beset and searched, but there were witnesses
enough that the gentlemen had been gone over three hours. The crowd
having gathered about, we had the news presently; and I was heartily
 142

concerned now another way. I presently told the people of the house,
that I durst to say those were not the persons, for that I knew one of the
gentlemen to be a very honest person, and of a good estate in Lancashire.

The constable who came with the hue-and-cry was immediately

informed of this, and came over to me to be satisfied from my own
mouth, and I assured him that I saw the three gentlemen as I was at the
window; that I saw them afterwards at the windows of the room they
dined in; that I saw them afterwards take horse, and I could assure him I
knew one of them to be such a man, that he was a gentleman of a very
good estate, and an undoubted character in Lancashire, from whence I
was just now upon my journey.

The assurance with which I delivered this gave the mob gentry a check,
and gave the constable such satisfaction, that he immediately sounded a
retreat, told his people these were not the men, but that he had an
account they were very honest gentlemen; and so they went all back
again. What the truth of the matter was I knew not, but certain it was
that the coaches were robbed at Dunstable Hill, and #560 in money
taken; besides, some of the lace merchants that always travel that way
had been visited too. As to the three gentlemen, that remains to be
explained hereafter.

Well, this alarm stopped us another day, though my spouse was for
travelling, and told me that it was always safest travelling after a robbery,
for that the thieves were sure to be gone far enough off when they had
alarmed the country; but I was afraid and uneasy, and indeed principally
lest my old acquaintance should be upon the road still, and should
chance to see me. I never lived four pleasanter days together in my life. I
was a mere bride all this while, and my new spouse strove to make me
entirely easy in everything. Oh could this state of life have continued,
how had all my past troubles been forgot, and my future sorrows
avoided! But I had a past life of a most wretched kind to account for,
some if it in this world as well as in another. We came away the fifth day;
and my landlord, because he saw me uneasy, mounted himself, his son,
and three honest country fellows with good firearms, and, without telling
us of it, followed the coach, and would see us safe into Dunstable. We
could do no less than treat them very handsomely at Dunstable, which
 143

cost my spouse about ten or twelve shillings, and something he gave the
men for their time too, but my landlord would take nothing for himself.

This was the most happy contrivance for me that could have fallen out;
for had I come to London unmarried, I must either have come to him for
the first night's entertainment, or have discovered to him that I had not
one acquaintance in the whole city of London that could receive a poor
bridge for the first night's lodging with her spouse. But now, being an old
married woman, I made no scruple of going directly home with him, and
there I took possession at once of a house well furnished, and a husband
in very good circumstances, so that I had a prospect of a very happy life,
if I knew how to manage it; and I had leisure to consider of the real value
of the life I was likely to live. How different it was to be from the loose
ungoverned part I had acted before, and how much happier a life of
virtue and sobriety is, than that which we call a life of pleasure. Oh had
this particular scene of life lasted, or had I learned from that time I
enjoyed it, to have tasted the true sweetness of it, and had I not fallen
into that poverty which is the sure bane of virtue, how happy had I been,
not only here, but perhaps for ever! for while I lived thus, I was really a
penitent for all my life past. I looked back on it with abhorrence, and
might truly be said to hate myself for it. I often reflected how my lover at
the Bath, struck at the hand of God, repented and abandoned me, and
refused to see me any more, though he loved me to an extreme; but I,
prompted by that worst of devils, poverty, returned to the vile practice,
and made the advantage of what they call a handsome face to be the
relief to my necessities, and beauty be a pimp to vice.

Now I seemed landed in a safe harbour, after the stormy voyage of life
past was at an end, and I began to be thankful for my deliverance. I sat
many an hour by myself, and wept over the remembrance of past follies,
and the dreadful extravagances of a wicked life, and sometimes I
flattered myself that I had sincerely repented. But there are temptations
which it is not in the power of human nature to resist, and few know
what would be their case if driven to the same exigencies. As
covetousness is the root of all evil, so poverty is, I believe, the worst of all
snares. But I waive that discourse till I come to an experiment. I live with
this husband with the utmost tranquillity; he was a quiet, sensible, sober
man; virtuous, modest, sincere, and in his business diligent and just. His
business was in a narrow compass, and his income sufficient to a
 144

plentiful way of living in the ordinary way. I do not say to keep an

equipage, and make a figure, as the world calls it, nor did I expect it, or
desire it; for as I abhorred the levity and extravagance of my former life,
so I chose now to live retired, frugal, and within ourselves. I kept no
company, made no visits; minded my family, and obliged my husband;
and this kind of life became a pleasure to me. We lived in an
uninterrupted course of ease and content for five years, when a sudden
blow from an almost invisible hand blasted all my happiness, and turned
me out into the world in a condition the reverse of all that had been
before it.
 145

CHAPTER 8

My husband having trusted one of his fellow-clerks with a sum of money,

too much for our fortunes to bear the loss of, the clerk failed, and the loss
fell very heavy on my husband, yet it was not so great neither but that, if
he had had spirit and courage to have looked his misfortunes in the face,
his credit was so good that, as I told him, he would easily recover it; for
to sink under trouble is to double the weight, and he that will die in it,
shall die in it.

It was in vain to speak comfortably to him; the wound had sunk too
deep; it was a stab that touched the vitals; he grew melancholy and
disconsolate, and from thence lethargic, and died. I foresaw the blow,
and was extremely oppressed in my mind, for I saw evidently that if he
died I was undone.

I had had two children by him and no more, for, to tell the truth, it began
to be time for me to leave bearing children, for I was now eight-and-
forty, and I suppose if he had lived I should have had no more.

I was now left in a dismal and disconsolate case indeed, and in several
things worse than ever. First, it was past the flourishing time with me
when I might expect to be courted for a mistress; that agreeable part had
declined some time, and the ruins only appeared of what had been; and
that which was worse than all this, that I was the most dejected,
disconsolate creature alive. I that had encouraged my husband, and
endeavoured to support his spirits under his trouble, could not support
my own; I wanted that spirit in trouble which I told him was so necessary
to him for bearing the burthen.

But my case was indeed deplorable, for I was left perfectly friendless and
helpless, and the loss my husband had sustained had reduced his
circumstances so low, that though indeed I was not in debt, yet I could
easily foresee that what was left would not support me long; that while it
wasted daily for subsistence, I had no way to increase it one shilling, so
that it would be soon all spent, and then I saw nothing before me but the
utmost distress; and this represented itself so lively to my thoughts, that
it seemed as if it was come, before it was really very near; also my very
 146

apprehensions doubled the misery, for I fancied every sixpence that I

paid for a loaf of bread was the last that I had in the world, and that to-
morrow I was to fast, and be starved to death.

In this distress I had no assistant, no friend to comfort or advise me; I

sat and cried and tormented myself night and day, wringing my hands,
and sometimes raving like a distracted woman; and indeed I have often
wondered it had not affected my reason, for I had the vapours to such a
degree, that my understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies and
imaginations.

I lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I had,
weeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and, as it were, only
bleeding to death, without the least hope or prospect of help from God or
man; and now I had cried too long, and so often, that tears were, as I
might say, exhausted, and I began to be desperate, for I grew poor apace.

For a little relief I had put off my house and took lodgings; and as I was
reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods, which put a little
money in my pocket, and I lived near a year upon that, spending very
sparingly, an eking things out to the utmost; but still when I looked
before me, my very heart would sink within me at the inevitable
approach of misery and want. Oh let none read this part without
seriously reflecting on the circumstances of a desolate state, and how
they would grapple with mere want of friends and want of bread; it will
certainly make them think not of sparing what they have only, but of
looking up to heaven for support, and of the wise man's prayer, 'Give me
not poverty, lest I steal.'

Let them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadful

temptation, and all the strength to resist is taken away; poverty presses,
the soul is made desperate by distress, and what can be done? It was one
evening, when being brought, as I may say, to the last gasp, I think I may
truly say I was distracted and raving, when prompted by I know not what
spirit, and, as it were, doing I did not know what or why, I dressed me
(for I had still pretty good clothes) and went out. I am very sure I had no
manner of design in my head when I went out; I neither knew nor
considered where to go, or on what business; but as the devil carried me
out and laid his bait for me, so he brought me, to be sure, to the place, for
I knew not whither I was going or what I did.
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Wandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an apothecary's

shop in Leadenhall Street, when I saw lie on a stool just before the
counter a little bundle wrapped in a white cloth; beyond it stood a maid-
servant with her back to it, looking towards the top of the shop, where
the apothecary's apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon the
counter, with his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand, looking
and reaching up to the upper shelf for something he wanted, so that both
were engaged mighty earnestly, and nobody else in the shop.

This was the bait; and the devil, who I said laid the snare, as readily
prompted me as if he had spoke, for I remember, and shall never forget
it, 'twas like a voice spoken to me over my shoulder, 'Take the bundle; be
quick; do it this moment.' It was no sooner said but I stepped into the
shop, and with my back to the wench, as if I had stood up for a cart that
was going by, I put my hand behind me and took the bundle, and went
off with it, the maid or the fellow not perceiving me, or any one else.

It is impossible to express the horror of my soul all the while I did it.
When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to mend my pace. I
crossed the street indeed, and went down the first turning I came to, and
I think it was a street that went through into Fenchurch Street. From
thence I crossed and turned through so many ways an turnings, that I
could never tell which way it was, not where I went; for I felt not the
ground I stepped on, and the farther I was out of danger, the faster I
went, till, tired and out of breath, I was forced to sit down on a little
bench at a door, and then I began to recover, and found I was got into
Thames Street, near Billingsgate. I rested me a little and went on; my
blood was all in a fire; my heart beat as if I was in a sudden fright. In
short, I was under such a surprise that I still knew not wither I was
going, or what to do.

After I had tired myself thus with walking a long way about, and so
eagerly, I began to consider and make home to my lodging, where I came
about nine o'clock at night.

When the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion laid where I
found it, I knew not, but when I came to open it I found there was a suit
of childbed-linen in it, very good and almost new, the lace very fine;
there was a silver porringer of a pint, a small silver mug and six spoons,
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with some other linen, a good smock, and three silk handkerchiefs, and
in the mug, wrapped up in a paper, 18s. 6d. in money.

All the while I was opening these things I was under such dreadful
impressions of fear, and I such terror of mind, though I was perfectly
safe, that I cannot express the manner of it. I sat me down, and cried
most vehemently. 'Lord,' said I, 'what am I now? a thief! Why, I shall be
take next time, and be carried to Newgate and be tried for my life!' And
with that I cried again a long time, and I am sure, as poor as I was, if I
had durst for fear, I would certainly have carried the things back again;
but that went off after a while. Well, I went to bed for that night, but
slept little; the horror of the fact was upon my mind, and I knew not
what I said or did all night, and all the next day. Then I was impatient to
hear some news of the loss; and would fain know how it was, whether
they were a poor body's goods, or a rich. 'Perhaps,' said I, 'it may be some
poor widow like me, that had packed up these goods to go and sell them
for a little bread for herself and a poor child, and are now starving and
breaking their hearts for want of that little they would have fetched.' And
this thought tormented me worse than all the rest, for three or four days'
time.

But my own distresses silenced all these reflections, and the prospect of
my own starving, which grew every day more frightful to me, hardened
my heart by degrees. It was then particularly heavy upon my mind, that I
had been reformed, and had, as I hoped, repented of all my past
wickedness; that I had lived a sober, grave, retired life for several years,
but now I should be driven by the dreadful necessity of my
circumstances to the gates of destruction, soul and body; and two or
three times I fell upon my knees, praying to God, as well as I could, for
deliverance; but I cannot but say, my prayers had no hope in them. I
knew not what to do; it was all fear without, and dark within; and I
reflected on my past life as not sincerely repented of, that Heaven was
now beginning to punish me on this side the grave, and would make me
as miserable as I had been wicked.

Had I gone on here I had perhaps been a true penitent; but I had an evil
counsellor within, and he was continually prompting me to relieve
myself by the worst means; so one evening he tempted me again, by the
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same wicked impulse that had said 'Take that bundle,' to go out again
and seek for what might happen.

I went out now by daylight, and wandered about I knew not whither, and
in search of I knew not what, when the devil put a snare in my way of a
dreadful nature indeed, and such a one as I have never had before or
since. Going through Aldersgate Street, there was a pretty little child who
had been at a dancing school, and was going home, all alone; and my
prompter, like a true devil, set me upon this innocent creature. I talked
to it, and it prattled to me again, and I took it by the hand and led it
along till I came to a paved alley that goes into Bartholomew Close, and I
led it in there. The child said that was not its way home. I said, 'Yes, my
dear, it is; I'll show you the way home.' The child had a little necklace on
of gold beads, and I had my eye upon that, and in the dark of the alley I
stooped, pretending to mend the child's clog that was loose, and took off
her necklace, and the child never felt it, and so led the child on again.
Here, I say, the devil put me upon killing the child in the dark alley, that
it might not cry, but the very thought frighted me so that I was ready to
drop down; but I turned the child about and bade it go back again, for
that was not its way home. The child said, so she would, and I went
through into Bartholomew Close, and then turned round to another
passage that goes into St. John Street; then, crossing into Smithfield,
went down Chick Lane and into Field Lane to Holborn Bridge, when,
mixing with the crowd of people usually passing there, it was not
possible to have been found out; and thus I enterprised my second sally
into the world.

The thoughts of this booty put out all the thoughts of the first, and the
reflections I had made wore quickly off; poverty, as I have said, hardened
my heart, and my own necessities made me regardless of anything. The
last affair left no great concern upon me, for as I did the poor child no
harm, I only said to myself, I had given the parents a just reproof for
their negligence in leaving the poor little lamb to come home by itself,
and it would teach them to take more care of it another time.

This string of beads was worth about twelve or fourteen pounds. I

suppose it might have been formerly the mother's, for it was too big for
the child's wear, but that perhaps the vanity of the mother, to have her
child look fine at the dancing-school, had made her let the child wear it;
 150

and no doubt the child had a maid sent to take care of it, but she, careless
jade, was taken up perhaps with some fellow that had met her by the
way, and so the poor baby wandered till it fell into my hands.

However, I did the child no harm; I did not so much as fright it, for I had
a great many tender thoughts about me yet, and did nothing but what, as
I may say, mere necessity drove me to.

I had a great many adventures after this, but I was young in the business,
and did not know how to manage, otherwise than as the devil put things
into my head; and indeed he was seldom backward to me. One adventure
I had which was very lucky to me. I was going through Lombard Street in
the duck of the evening, just by the end of Three King court, when on a
sudden comes a fellow running by me as swift as lightning, and throws a
bundle that was in his hand, just behind me, as I stood up against the
corner of the house at the turning into the alley. Just as he threw it in he
said, 'God bless you, mistress, let it lie there a little,' and away he runs
swift as the wind. After him comes two more, and immediately a young
fellow without his hat, crying 'Stop thief!' and after him two or three
more. They pursued the two last fellows so close, that they were forced to
drop what they had got, and one of them was taken into the bargain, and
other got off free.

I stood stock-still all this while, till they came back, dragging the poor
fellow they had taken, and lugging the things they had found, extremely
well satisfied that they had recovered the booty and taken the thief; and
thus they passed by me, for I looked only like one who stood up while the
crowd was gone.

Once or twice I asked what was the matter, but the people neglected
answering me, and I was not very importunate; but after the crowd was
wholly past, I took my opportunity to turn about and take up what was
behind me and walk away. This, indeed, I did with less disturbance than
I had done formerly, for these things I did not steal, but they were stolen
to my hand. I got safe to my lodgings with this cargo, which was a piece
of fine black lustring silk, and a piece of velvet; the latter was but part of
a piece of about eleven yards; the former was a whole piece of near fifty
yards. It seems it was a mercer's shop that they had rifled. I say rifled,
because the goods were so considerable that they had lost; for the goods
that they recovered were pretty many, and I believe came to about six or
 151

seven several pieces of silk. How they came to get so many I could not
tell; but as I had only robbed the thief, I made no scruple at taking these
goods, and being very glad of them too.

I had pretty good luck thus far, and I made several adventures more,
though with but small purchase, yet with good success, but I went in
daily dread that some mischief would befall me, and that I should
certainly come to be hanged at last. The impression this made on me was
too strong to be slighted, and it kept me from making attempts that, for
ought I knew, might have been very safely performed; but one thing I
cannot omit, which was a bait to me many a day. I walked frequently out
into the villages round the town, to see if nothing would fall in my way
there; and going by a house near Stepney, I saw on the window-board
two rings, one a small diamond ring, and the other a gold ring, to be sure
laid there by some thoughtless lady, that had more money then forecast,
perhaps only till she washed her hands.

I walked several times by the window to observe if I could see whether

there was anybody in the room or no, and I could see nobody, but still I
was not sure. It came presently into my thoughts to rap at the glass, as if
I wanted to speak with somebody, and if anybody was there they would
be sure to come to the window, and then I would tell them to remove
those rings, for that I had seen two suspicious fellows take notice of
them. This was a ready thought. I rapped once or twice and nobody
came, when, seeing the coast clear, I thrust hard against the square of
the glass, and broke it with very little noise, and took out the two rings,
and walked away with them very safe. The diamond ring was worth
about #3, and the other about 9s.

I was now at a loss for a market for my goods, and especially for my two
pieces of silk. I was very loth to dispose of them for a trifle, as the poor
unhappy thieves in general do, who, after they have ventured their lives
for perhaps a thing of value, are fain to sell it for a song when they have
done; but I was resolved I would not do thus, whatever shift I made,
unless I was driven to the last extremity. However, I did not well know
what course to take. At last I resolved to go to my old governess, and
acquaint myself with her again. I had punctually supplied the #5 a year
to her for my little boy as long as I was able, but at last was obliged to put
a stop to it. However, I had written a letter to her, wherein I had told her
 152

that my circumstances were reduced very low; that I had lost my

husband, and that I was not able to do it any longer, and so begged that
the poor child might not suffer too much for its mother's misfortunes.

I now made her a visit, and I found that she drove something of the old
trade still, but that she was not in such flourishing circumstances as
before; for she had been sued by a certain gentleman who had had his
daughter stolen from him, and who, it seems, she had helped to convey
away; and it was very narrowly that she escaped the gallows. The
expense also had ravaged her, and she was become very poor; her house
was but meanly furnished, and she was not in such repute for her
practice as before; however, she stood upon her legs, as they say, and a
she was a stirring, bustling woman, and had some stock left, she was
turned pawnbroker, and lived pretty well.

She received me very civilly, and with her usual obliging manner told me
she would not have the less respect for me for my being reduced; that she
had taken care my boy was very well looked after, though I could not pay
for him, and that the woman that had him was easy, so that I needed not
to trouble myself about him till I might be better able to do it effectually.

I told her that I had not much money left, but that I had some things that
were money's worth, if she could tell me how I might turn them into
money. She asked me what it was I had. I pulled out the string of gold
beads, and told her it was one of my husband's presents to me; then I
showed her the two parcels of silk, which I told her I had from Ireland,
and brought up to town with me; and the little diamond ring. As to the
small parcel of plate and spoons, I had found means to dispose of them
myself before; and as for the childbed-linen I had, she offered me to take
it herself, believing it to have been my own. She told me that she was
turned pawnbroker, and that she would sell those things for me as pawn
to her; and so she sent presently for proper agents that bought them,
being in her hands, without any scruple, and gave good prices too.

I now began to think this necessary woman might help me a little in my

low condition to some business, for I would gladly have turned my hand
to any honest employment if I could have got it. But here she was
deficient; honest business did not come within her reach. If I had been
younger, perhaps she might have helped me to a spark, but my thoughts
 153

were off that kind of livelihood, as being quite out of the way after fifty,
which was my case, and so I told her.

She invited me at last to come, and be at her house till I could find
something to do, and it should cost me very little, and this I gladly
accepted of. And now living a little easier, I entered into some measures
to have my little son by my last husband taken off; and this she made
easy too, reserving a payment only of #5 a year, if I could pay it. This was
such a help to me, that for a good while I left off the wicked trade that I
had so newly taken up; and gladly I would have got my bread by the help
of my needle if I could have got work, but that was very hard to do for
one that had no manner of acquaintance in the world.

However, at last I got some quilting work for ladies' beds, petticoats, and
the like; and this I liked very well, and worked very hard, and with this I
began to live; but the diligent devil, who resolved I should continue in his
service, continually prompted me to go out and take a walk, that is to
say, to see if anything would offer in the old way.

One evening I blindly obeyed his summons, and fetched a long circuit
through the streets, but met with no purchase, and came home very
weary and empty; but not content with that, I went out the next evening
too, when going by an alehouse I saw the door of a little room open, next
the very street, and on the table a silver tankard, things much in use in
public-houses at that time. It seems some company had been drinking
there, and the careless boys had forgot to take it away.

I went into the box frankly, and setting the silver tankard on the corner
of the bench, I sat down before it, and knocked with my foot; a boy came
presently, and I bade him fetch me a pint of warm ale, for it was cold
weather; the boy ran, and I heard him go down the cellar to draw the ale.
While the boy was gone, another boy came into the room, and cried, 'D'
ye call?' I spoke with a melancholy air, and said, 'No, child; the boy is
gone for a pint of ale for me.'

While I sat here, I heard the woman in the bar say, 'Are they all gone in
the five?' which was the box I sat in, and the boy said, 'Yes.' 'Who fetched
the tankard away?' says the woman. 'I did,' says another boy; 'that's it,'
pointing, it seems, to another tankard, which he had fetched from
 154

another box by mistake; or else it must be, that the rogue forgot that he
had not brought it in, which certainly he had not.

I heard all this, much to my satisfaction, for I found plainly that the
tankard was not missed, and yet they concluded it was fetched away; so I
drank my ale, called to pay, and as I went away I said, 'Take care of your
plate, child,' meaning a silver pint mug, which he brought me drink in.
The boy said, 'Yes, madam, very welcome,' and away I came.

I came home to my governess, and now I thought it was a time to try her,
that if I might be put to the necessity of being exposed, she might offer
me some assistance. When I had been at home some time, and had an
opportunity of talking to her, I told her I had a secret of the greatest
consequence in the world to commit to her, if she had respect enough for
me to keep it a secret. She told me she had kept one of my secrets
faithfully; why should I doubt her keeping another? I told her the
strangest thing in the world had befallen me, and that it had made a thief
of me, even without any design, and so told her the whole story of the
tankard. 'And have you brought it away with you, my dear?' says she. 'To
be sure I have,' says I, and showed it her. 'But what shall I do now,' says
I; 'must not carry it again?'

'Carry it again!' says she. 'Ay, if you are minded to be sent to Newgate for
stealing it.' 'Why,' says I, 'they can't be so base to stop me, when I carry it
to them again?' 'You don't know those sort of people, child,' says she;
'they'll not only carry you to Newgate, but hang you too, without any
regard to the honesty of returning it; or bring in an account of all the
other tankards they have lost, for you to pay for.' 'What must I do, then?'
says I. 'Nay,' says she, 'as you have played the cunning part and stole it,
you must e'en keep it; there's no going back now. Besides, child,' says
she, 'don't you want it more than they do? I wish you could light of such
a bargain once a week.'

This gave me a new notion of my governess, and that since she was
turned pawnbroker, she had a sort of people about her that were none of
the honest ones that I had met with there before.

I had not been long there but I discovered it more plainly than before, for
every now and then I saw hilts of swords, spoons, forks, tankards, and all
such kind of ware brought in, not to be pawned, but to be sold
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downright; and she bought everything that came without asking any
questions, but had very good bargains, as I found by her discourse.

I found also that in following this trade she always melted down the plate
she bought, that it might not be challenged; and she came to me and told
me one morning that she was going to melt, and if I would, she would
put my tankard in, that it might not be seen by anybody. I told her, with
all my heart; so she weighed it, and allowed me the full value in silver
again; but I found she did not do the same to the rest of her customers.

Some time after this, as I was at work, and very melancholy, she begins
to ask me what the matter was, as she was used to do. I told her my heart
was heavy; I had little work, and nothing to live on, and knew not what
course to take. She laughed, and told me I must go out again and try my
fortune; it might be that I might meet with another piece of plate. 'O
mother!' says I, 'that is a trade I have no skill in, and if I should be taken
I am undone at once.' Says she, 'I could help you to a schoolmistress that
shall make you as dexterous as herself.' I trembled at that proposal, for
hitherto I had had no confederates, nor any acquaintance among that
tribe. But she conquered all my modesty, and all my fears; and in a little
time, by the help of this confederate, I grew as impudent a thief, and as
dexterous as ever Moll Cutpurse was, though, if fame does not belie her,
not half so handsome.

The comrade she helped me to dealt in three sorts of craft, viz.

shoplifting, stealing of shop-books and pocket-books, and taking off gold
watches from the ladies' sides; and this last she did so dexterously that
no woman ever arrived to the performance of that art so as to do it like
her. I liked the first and the last of these things very well, and I attended
her sometime in the practice, just as a deputy attends a midwife, without
any pay.

At length she put me to practice. She had shown me her art, and I had
several times unhooked a watch from her own side with great dexterity.
At last she showed me a prize, and this was a young lady big with child,
who had a charming watch. The thing was to be done as she came out of
church. She goes on one side of the lady, and pretends, just as she came
to the steps, to fall, and fell against the lady with so much violence as put
her into a great fright, and both cried out terribly. In the very moment
that she jostled the lady, I had hold of the watch, and holding it the right
 156

way, the start she gave drew the hook out, and she never felt it. I made
off immediately, and left my schoolmistress to come out of her pretended
fright gradually, and the lady too; and presently the watch was missed.
'Ay,' says my comrade, 'then it was those rogues that thrust me down, I
warrant ye; I wonder the gentlewoman did not miss her watch before,
then we might have taken them.'

She humoured the thing so well that nobody suspected her, and I was got
home a full hour before her. This was my first adventure in company.
The watch was indeed a very fine one, and had a great many trinkets
about it, and my governess allowed us #20 for it, of which I had half.
And thus I was entered a complete thief, hardened to the pitch above all
the reflections of conscience or modesty, and to a degree which I must
acknowledge I never thought possible in me.

Thus the devil, who began, by the help of an irresistible poverty, to push
me into this wickedness, brought me on to a height beyond the common
rate, even when my necessities were not so great, or the prospect of my
misery so terrifying; for I had now got into a little vein of work, and as I
was not at a loss to handle my needle, it was very probable, as
acquaintance came in, I might have got my bread honestly enough.

I must say, that if such a prospect of work had presented itself at first,
when I began to feel the approach of my miserable circumstances--I say,
had such a prospect of getting my bread by working presented itself then,
I had never fallen into this wicked trade, or into such a wicked gang as I
was now embarked with; but practice had hardened me, and I grew
audacious to the last degree; and the more so because I had carried it on
so long, and had never been taken; for, in a word, my new partner in
wickedness and I went on together so long, without being ever detected,
that we not only grew bold, but we grew rich, and we had at one time
one-and-twenty gold watches in our hands.

I remember that one day being a little more serious than ordinary, and
finding I had so good a stock beforehand as I had, for I had near #200 in
money for my share, it came strongly into my mind, no doubt from some
kind spirit, if such there be, that at first poverty excited me, and my
distresses drove me to these dreadful shifts; so seeing those distresses
were now relieved, and I could also get something towards a
maintenance by working, and had so good a bank to support me, why
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should I now not leave off, as they say, while I was well? that I could not
expect to go always free; and if I was once surprised, and miscarried, I
was undone.

This was doubtless the happy minute, when, if I had hearkened to the
blessed hint, from whatsoever had it came, I had still a cast for an easy
life. But my fate was otherwise determined; the busy devil that so
industriously drew me in had too fast hold of me to let me go back; but
as poverty brought me into the mire, so avarice kept me in, till there was
no going back. As to the arguments which my reason dictated for
persuading me to lay down, avarice stepped in and said, 'Go on, go on;
you have had very good luck; go on till you have gotten four or five
hundred pounds, and they you shall leave off, and then you may live easy
without working at all.'

Thus I, that was once in the devil's clutches, was held fast there as with a
charm, and had no power to go without the circle, till I was engulfed in
labyrinths of trouble too great to get out at all.

However, these thoughts left some impression upon me, and made me
act with some more caution than before, and more than my directors
used for themselves. My comrade, as I called her, but rather she should
have been called my teacher, with another of her scholars, was the first
in the misfortune; for, happening to be upon the hunt for purchase, they
made an attempt upon a linen-draper in Cheapside, but were snapped by
a hawk's-eyed journeyman, and seized with two pieces of cambric, which
were taken also upon them.

This was enough to lodge them both in Newgate, where they had the
misfortune to have some of their former sins brought to remembrance.
Two other indictments being brought against them, and the facts being
proved upon them, they were both condemned to die. They both pleaded
their bellies, and were both voted quick with child; though my tutoress
was no more with child than I was.

I went frequently to see them, and condole with them, expecting that it
would be my turn next; but the place gave me so much horror, reflecting
that it was the place of my unhappy birth, and of my mother's
misfortunes, and that I could not bear it, so I was forced to leave off
going to see them.
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And oh! could I have but taken warning by their disasters, I had been
happy still, for I was yet free, and had nothing brought against me; but it
could not be, my measure was not yet filled up.

My comrade, having the brand of an old offender, was executed; the

young offender was spared, having obtained a reprieve, but lay starving a
long while in prison, till at last she got her name into what they call a
circuit pardon, and so came off.

This terrible example of my comrade frighted me heartily, and for a good

while I made no excursions; but one night, in the neighbourhood of my
governess's house, they cried "Fire.' My governess looked out, for we
were all up, and cried immediately that such a gentlewoman's house was
all of a light fire atop, and so indeed it was. Here she gives me a job.
'Now, child,' says she, 'there is a rare opportunity, for the fire being so
near that you may go to it before the street is blocked up with the crowd.'
She presently gave me my cue. 'Go, child,' says she, 'to the house, and
run in and tell the lady, or anybody you see, that you come to help them,
and that you came from such a gentlewoman (that is, one of her
acquaintance farther up the street).' She gave me the like cue to the next
house, naming another name that was also an acquaintance of the
gentlewoman of the house.

Away I went, and, coming to the house, I found them all in confusion,
you may be sure. I ran in, and finding one of the maids, 'Lord!
sweetheart,' says I, 'how came this dismal accident? Where is your
mistress? Any how does she do? Is she safe? And where are the children?
I come from Madam ---to help you.' Away runs the maid. 'Madam,
madam,' says she, screaming as loud as she could yell, 'here is a
gentlewoman come from Madam ---to help us.' The poor woman, half
out of her wits, with a bundle under her arm, an two little children,
comes toward me. 'Lord! madam,' says I, 'let me carry the poor children
to Madam ----,' she desires you to send them; she'll take care of the poor
lambs;' and immediately I takes one of them out of her hand, and she
lifts the other up into my arms. 'Ay, do, for God's sake,' says she, 'carry
them to her. Oh! thank her for her kindness.' 'Have you anything else to
secure, madam?' says I; 'she will take care of it.' 'Oh dear! ay,' says she,
'God bless her, and thank her. Take this bundle of plate and carry it to
her too. Oh, she is a good woman. Oh Lord! we are utterly ruined, utterly
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undone!' And away she runs from me out of her wits, and the maids after
her; and away comes I with the two children and the bundle.

I was no sooner got into the street but I saw another woman come to me.
'Oh!' says she, 'mistress,' in a piteous tone, 'you will let fall the child.
Come, this is a sad time; let me help you'; and immediately lays hold of
my bundle to carry it for me. 'No,' says I; 'if you will help me, take the
child by the hand, and lead it for me but to the upper end of the street;
I'll go with you and satisfy you for your pains.'

She could not avoid going, after what I said; but the creature, in short,
was one of the same business with me, and wanted nothing but the
bundle; however, she went with me to the door, for she could not help it.
When we were come there I whispered her, 'Go, child,' said I, 'I
understand your trade; you may meet with purchase enough.'

She understood me and walked off. I thundered at the door with the
children, and as the people were raised before by the noise of the fire, I
was soon let in, and I said, 'Is madam awake? Pray tell her Mrs. ---
desires the favour of her to take the two children in; poor lady, she will
be undone, their house is all of a flame,' They took the children in very
civilly, pitied the family in distress, and away came I with my bundle.
One of the maids asked me if I was not to leave the bundle too. I said,
'No, sweetheart, 'tis to go to another place; it does not belong to them.'

I was a great way out of the hurry now, and so I went on, clear of
anybody's inquiry, and brought the bundle of plate, which was very
considerable, straight home, and gave it to my old governess. She told
me she would not look into it, but bade me go out again to look for more.

She gave me the like cue to the gentlewoman of the next house to that
which was on fire, and I did my endeavour to go, but by this time the
alarm of fire was so great, and so many engines playing, and the street so
thronged with people, that I could not get near the house whatever I
would do; so I came back again to my governess's, and taking the bundle
up into my chamber, I began to examine it. It is with horror that I tell
what a treasure I found there; 'tis enough to say, that besides most of the
family plate, which was considerable, I found a gold chain, an old-
fashioned thing, the locket of which was broken, so that I suppose it had
not been used some years, but the gold was not the worse for that; also a
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little box of burying-rings, the lady's wedding-ring, and some broken bits
of old lockets of gold, a gold watch, and a purse with about #24 value in
old pieces of gold coin, and several other things of value.

This was the greatest and the worst prize that ever I was concerned in;
for indeed, though, as I have said above, I was hardened now beyond the
power of all reflection in other cases, yet it really touched me to the very
soul when I looked into this treasure, to think of the poor disconsolate
gentlewoman who had lost so much by the fire besides; and who would
think, to be sure, that she had saved her plate and best things; how she
would be surprised and afflicted when she should find that she had been
deceived, and should find that the person that took her children and her
goods, had not come, as was pretended, from the gentlewoman in the
next street, but that the children had been put upon her without her own
knowledge.

I say, I confess the inhumanity of this action moved me very much, and
made me relent exceedingly, and tears stood in my eyes upon that
subject; but with all my sense of its being cruel and inhuman, I could
never find in my heart to make any restitution. The reflection wore off,
and I began quickly to forget the circumstances that attended the taking
them.

Now was this all; for though by this job I was become considerably richer
than before, yet the resolution I had formerly taken, of leaving off this
horrid trade when I had gotten a little more, did not return, but I must
still get farther, and more; and the avarice joined so with the success,
that I had no more thought of coming to a timely alteration of life,
though without it I could expect no safety, no tranquillity in the
possession of what I had so wickedly gained; but a little more, and a little
more, was the case still.

At length, yielding to the importunities of my crime, I cast off all remorse

and repentance, and all the reflections on that head turned to no more
than this, that I might perhaps come to have one booty more that might
complete my desires; but though I certainly had that one booty, yet every
hit looked towards another, and was so encouraging to me to go on with
the trade, that I had no gust to the thought of laying it down.
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In this condition, hardened by success, and resolving to go on, I fell into

the snare in which I was appointed to meet with my last reward for this
kind of life. But even this was not yet, for I met with several successful
adventures more in this way of being undone.

I remained still with my governess, who was for a while really concerned
for the misfortune of my comrade that had been hanged, and who, it
seems, knew enough of my governess to have sent her the same way, and
which made her very uneasy; indeed, she was in a very great fright.

It is true that when she was gone, and had not opened mouth to tell what
she knew, my governess was easy as to that point, and perhaps glad she
was hanged, for it was in her power to have obtained a pardon at the
expense of her friends; but on the other hand, the loss of her, and the
sense of her kindness in not making her market of what she knew,
moved my governess to mourn very sincerely for her. I comforted her as
well as I could, and she in return hardened me to merit more completely
the same fate.

However, as I have said, it made me the more wary, and particularly I

was very shy of shoplifting, especially among the mercers and drapers,
who are a set of fellows that have their eyes very much about them. I
made a venture or two among the lace folks and the milliners, and
particularly at one shop where I got notice of two young women who
were newly set up, and had not been bred to the trade. There I think I
carried off a piece of bone-lace, worth six or seven pounds, and a paper
of thread. But this was but once; it was a trick that would not serve again.

It was always reckoned a safe job when we heard of a new shop, and
especially when the people were such as were not bred to shops. Such
may depend upon it that they will be visited once or twice at their
beginning, and they must be very sharp indeed if they can prevent it.

I made another adventure or two, but they were but trifles too, though
sufficient to live on. After this nothing considerable offering for a good
while, I began to think that I must give over the trade in earnest; but my
governess, who was not willing to lose me, and expected great things of
me, brought me one day into company with a young woman and a fellow
that went for her husband, though as it appeared afterwards, she was not
his wife, but they were partners, it seems, in the trade they carried on,
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and partners in something else. In short, they robbed together, lay

together, were taken together, and at last were hanged together.

I came into a kind of league with these two by the help of my governess,
and they carried me out into three or four adventures, where I rather saw
them commit some coarse and unhandy robberies, in which nothing but
a great stock of impudence on their side, and gross negligence on the
people's side who were robbed, could have made them successful. so I
resolved from that time forward to be very cautious how I adventured
upon anything with them; and indeed, when two or three unlucky
projects were proposed by them, I declined the offer, and persuaded
them against it. One time they particularly proposed robbing a
watchmaker of three gold watches, which they had eyed in the daytime,
and found the place where he laid them. One of them had so many keys
of all kinds, that he made no question to open the place where the
watchmaker had laid them; and so we made a kind of an appointment;
but when I came to look narrowly into the thing, I found they proposed
breaking open the house, and this, as a thing out of my way, I would not
embark in, so they went without me. They did get into the house by main
force, and broke up the locked place where the watches were, but found
but one of the gold watches, and a silver one, which they took, and got
out of the house again very clear. But the family, being alarmed, cried out
'Thieves,' and the man was pursued and taken; the young woman had got
off too, but unhappily was stopped at a distance, and the watches found
upon her. And thus I had a second escape, for they were convicted, and
both hanged, being old offenders, though but young people. As I said
before that they robbed together and lay together, so now they hanged
together, and there ended my new partnership.

I began now to be very wary, having so narrowly escaped a scouring, and

having such an example before me; but I had a new tempter, who
prompted me every day--I mean my governess; and now a prize
presented, which as it came by her management, so she expected a good
share of the booty. There was a good quantity of Flanders lace lodged in
a private house, where she had gotten intelligence of it, and Flanders lace
being prohibited, it was a good booty to any custom-house officer that
could come at it. I had a full account from my governess, as well of the
quantity as of the very place where it was concealed, and I went to a
custom-house officer, and told him I had such a discovery to make to
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him of such a quantity of lace, if he would assure me that I should have

my due share of the reward. This was so just an offer, that nothing could
be fairer; so he agreed, and taking a constable and me with him, we beset
the house. As I told him I could go directly to the place, he left it to me;
and the hole being very dark, I squeezed myself into it, with a candle in
my hand, and so reached the pieces out to him, taking care as I gave him
some so to secure as much about myself as I could conveniently dispose
of. There was near #300 worth of lace in the hole, and I secured about
#50 worth of it to myself. The people of the house were not owners of the
lace, but a merchant who had entrusted them with it; so that they were
not so surprised as I thought they would be.

I left the officer overjoyed with his prize, and fully satisfied with what he
had got, and appointed to meet him at a house of his own directing,
where I came after I had disposed of the cargo I had about me, of which
he had not the least suspicion. When I came to him he began to
capitulate with me, believing I did not understand the right I had to a
share in the prize, and would fain have put me off with #20, but I let him
know that I was not so ignorant as he supposed I was; and yet I was glad,
too, that he offered to bring me to a certainty.

I asked #100, and he rose up to #30; I fell to #80, and he rose again to
#40; in a word, he offered #50, and I consented, only demanding a piece
of lace, which I though came to about #8 or #9, as if it had been for my
own wear, and he agreed to it. So I got #50 in money paid me that same
night, and made an end of the bargain; nor did he ever know who I was,
or where to inquire for me, so that if it had been discovered that part of
the goods were embezzled, he could have made no challenge upon me for
it.

I very punctually divided this spoil with my governess, and I passed with
her from this time for a very dexterous manager in the nicest cases. I
found that this last was the best and easiest sort of work that was in my
way, and I made it my business to inquire out prohibited goods, and
after buying some, usually betrayed them, but none of these discoveries
amounted to anything considerable, not like that I related just now; but I
was willing to act safe, and was still cautious of running the great risks
which I found others did, and in which they miscarried every day.
 164

The next thing of moment was an attempt at a gentlewoman's good

watch. It happened in a crowd, at a meeting-house, where I was in very
great danger of being taken. I had full hold of her watch, but giving a
great jostle, as if somebody had thrust me against her, and in the
juncture giving the watch a fair pull, I found it would not come, so I let it
go that moment, and cried out as if I had been killed, that somebody had
trod upon my foot, and that there were certainly pickpockets there, for
somebody or other had given a pull at my watch; for you are to observe
that on these adventures we always went very well dressed, and I had
very good clothes on, and a gold watch by my side, as like a lady as other
fold.

I had no sooner said so, but the other gentlewoman cried out 'A
pickpocket' too, for somebody, she said, had tried to pull her watch away.

When I touched her watch I was close to her, but when I cried out I
stopped as it were short, and the crowd bearing her forward a little, she
made a noise too, but it was at some distance from me, so that she did
not in the least suspect me; but when she cried out 'A pickpocket,'
somebody cried, 'Ay, and here has been another! this gentlewoman has
been attempted too.'

At that very instance, a little farther in the crowd, and very luckily too,
they cried out 'A pickpocket,' again, and really seized a young fellow in
the very act. This, though unhappy for the wretch, was very opportunely
for my case, though I had carried it off handsomely enough before; but
now it was out of doubt, and all the loose part of the crowd ran that way,
and the poor boy was delivered up to the rage of the street, which is a
cruelty I need not describe, and which, however, they are always glad of,
rather than to be sent to Newgate, where they lie often a long time, till
they are almost perished, and sometimes they are hanged, and the best
they can look for, if they are convicted, is to be transported.

This was a narrow escape to me, and I was so frighted that I ventured no
more at gold watches a great while. There was indeed a great many
concurring circumstances in this adventure which assisted to my escape;
but the chief was, that the woman whose watch I had pulled at was a
fool; that is to say, she was ignorant of the nature of the attempt, which
one would have thought she should not have been, seeing she was wise
enough to fasten her watch so that it could not be slipped up. But she
 165

was in such a fright that she had no thought about her proper for the
discovery; for she, when she felt the pull, screamed out, and pushed
herself forward, and put all the people about her into disorder, but said
not a word of her watch, or of a pickpocket, for a least two minutes' time,
which was time enough for me, and to spare. For as I had cried out
behind her, as I have said, and bore myself back in the crowd as she bore
forward, there were several people, at least seven or eight, the throng
being still moving on, that were got between me and her in that time,
and then I crying out 'A pickpocket,' rather sooner than she, or at least as
soon, she might as well be the person suspected as I, and the people were
confused in their inquiry; whereas, had she with a presence of mind
needful on such an occasion, as soon as she felt the pull, not screamed
out as she did, but turned immediately round and seized the next body
that was behind her, she had infallibly taken me.

This is a direction not of the kindest sort to the fraternity, but 'tis
certainly a key to the clue of a pickpocket's motions, and whoever can
follow it will as certainly catch the thief as he will be sure to miss if he
does not.

I had another adventure, which puts this matter out of doubt, and which
may be an instruction for posterity in the case of a pickpocket. My good
old governess, to give a short touch at her history, though she had left off
the trade, was, as I may say, born a pickpocket, and, as I understood
afterwards, had run through all the several degrees of that art, and yet
had never been taken but once, when she was so grossly detected, that
she was convicted and ordered to be transported; but being a woman of a
rare tongue, and withal having money in her pocket, she found means,
the ship putting into Ireland for provisions, to get on shore there, where
she lived and practised her old trade for some years; when falling into
another sort of bad company, she turned midwife and procuress, and
played a hundred pranks there, which she gave me a little history of in
confidence between us as we grew more intimate; and it was to this
wicked creature that I owed all the art and dexterity I arrived to, in which
there were few that ever went beyond me, or that practised so long
without any misfortune.

It was after those adventures in Ireland, and when she was pretty well
known in that country, that she left Dublin and came over to England,
 166

where, the time of her transportation being not expired, she left her
former trade, for fear of falling into bad hands again, for then she was
sure to have gone to wreck. Here she set up the same trade she had
followed in Ireland, in which she soon, by her admirable management
and good tongue, arrived to the height which I have already described,
and indeed began to be rich, though her trade fell off again afterwards, as
I have hinted before.

I mentioned thus much of the history of this woman here, the better to
account for the concern she had in the wicked life I was now leading, into
all the particulars of which she led me, as it were, by the hand, and gave
me such directions, and I so well followed them, that I grew the greatest
artist of my time and worked myself out of every danger with such
dexterity, that when several more of my comrades ran themselves into
Newgate presently, and by that time they had been half a year at the
trade, I had now practised upwards of five years, and the people at
Newgate did not so much as know me; they had heard much of me
indeed, and often expected me there, but I always got off, though many
times in the extremest danger.

One of the greatest dangers I was now in, was that I was too well known
among the trade, and some of them, whose hatred was owing rather to
envy than any injury I had done them, began to be angry that I should
always escape when they were always catched and hurried to Newgate.
These were they that gave me the name of Moll Flanders; for it was no
more of affinity with my real name or with any of the name I had ever
gone by, than black is of kin to white, except that once, as before, I called
myself Mrs. Flanders; when I sheltered myself in the Mint; but that these
rogues never knew, nor could I ever learn how they came to give me the
name, or what the occasion of it was.

I was soon informed that some of these who were gotten fast into
Newgate had vowed to impeach me; and as I knew that two or three of
them were but too able to do it, I was under a great concern about it, and
kept within doors for a good while. But my governess--whom I always
made partner in my success, and who now played a sure game with me,
for that she had a share of the gain and no share in the hazard--I say, my
governess was something impatient of my leading such a useless,
unprofitable life, as she called it; and she laid a new contrivance for my
 167

going abroad, and this was to dress me up in men's clothes, and so put
me into a new kind of practice.

I was tall and personable, but a little too smooth-faced for a man;
however, I seldom went abroad but in the night, it did well enough; but it
was a long time before I could behave in my new clothes--I mean, as to
my craft. It was impossible to be so nimble, so ready, so dexterous at
these things in a dress so contrary to nature; and I did everything
clumsily, so I had neither the success nor the easiness of escape that I
had before, and I resolved to leave it off; but that resolution was
confirmed soon after by the following accident.

As my governess disguised me like a man, so she joined me with a man, a

young fellow that was nimble enough at his business, and for about three
weeks we did very well together. Our principal trade was watching
shopkeepers' counters, and slipping off any kind of goods we could see
carelessly laid anywhere, and we made several good bargains, as we
called them, at this work. And as we kept always together, so we grew
very intimate, yet he never knew that I was not a man, nay, though I
several times went home with him to his lodgings, according as our
business directed, and four or five times lay with him all night. But our
design lay another way, and it was absolutely necessary to me to conceal
my sex from him, as appeared afterwards. The circumstances of our
living, coming in late, and having such and such business to do as
required that nobody should be trusted with the coming into our
lodgings, were such as made it impossible to me to refuse lying with him,
unless I would have owned my sex; and as it was, I effectually concealed
myself. But his ill, and my good fortune, soon put an end to this life,
which I must own I was sick of too, on several other accounts. We had
made several prizes in this new way of business, but the last would be
extraordinary. There was a shop in a certain street which had a
warehouse behind it that looked into another street, the house making
the corner of the turning.

Through the window of the warehouse we say, lying on the counter or

showboard, which was just before it, five pieces of silks, besides other
stuffs, and though it was almost dark, yet the people, being busy in the
fore-shop with customers, had not had time to shut up those windows, or
else had forgot it.
 168

This the young fellow was so overjoyed with, that he could not restrain
himself. It lay all within his reach he said, and he swore violently to me
that he would have it, if he broke down the house for it. I dissuaded him
a little, but saw there was no remedy; so he ran rashly upon it, slipped
out a square of the sash window dexterously enough, and without noise,
and got out four pieces of the silks, and came with them towards me, but
was immediately pursued with a terrible clutter and noise. We were
standing together indeed, but I had not taken any of the goods out of his
hand, when I said to him hastily, 'You are undone, fly, for God's sake!' He
ran like lightning, and I too, but the pursuit was hotter after him because
he had the goods, than after me. He dropped two of the pieces, which
stopped them a little, but the crowd increased and pursued us both. They
took him soon after with the other two pieces upon him, and then the
rest followed me. I ran for it and got into my governess's house whither
some quick-eyed people followed me to warmly as to fix me there. They
did not immediately knock, at the door, by which I got time to throw off
my disguise and dress me in my own clothes; besides, when they came
there, my governess, who had her tale ready, kept her door shut, and
called out to them and told them there was no man come in there. The
people affirmed there did a man come in there, and swore they would
break open the door.

My governess, not at all surprised, spoke calmly to them, told them they
should very freely come and search her house, if they should bring a
constable, and let in none but such as the constable would admit, for it
was unreasonable to let in a whole crowd. This they could not refuse,
though they were a crowd. So a constable was fetched immediately, and
she very freely opened the door; the constable kept the door, and the
men he appointed searched the house, my governess going with them
from room to room. When she came to my room she called to me, and
said aloud, 'Cousin, pray open the door; here's some gentlemen that
must come and look into your room.'
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CHAPTER 9

I had a little girl with me, which was my governess's grandchild, as she
called her; and I bade her open the door, and there sat I at work with a
great litter of things about me, as if I had been at work all day, being
myself quite undressed, with only night-clothes on my head, and a loose
morning-gown wrapped about me. My governess made a kind of excuse
for their disturbing me, telling me partly the occasion of it, and that she
had no remedy but to open the doors to them, and let them satisfy
themselves, for all she could say to them would not satisfy them. I sat
still, and bid them search the room if they pleased, for if there was
anybody in the house, I was sure they were not in my room; and as for
the rest of the house, I had nothing to say to that, I did not understand
what they looked for.

Everything looked so innocent and to honest about me, that they treated
me civiller than I expected, but it was not till they had searched the room
to a nicety, even under the bed, in the bed, and everywhere else where it
was possible anything could be hid. When they had done this, and could
find nothing, they asked my pardon for troubling me, and went down.

When they had thus searched the house from bottom to top, and then
top to bottom, and could find nothing, they appeased the mob pretty
well; but they carried my governess before the justice. Two men swore
that they saw the man whom they pursued go into her house. My
governess rattled and made a great noise that her house should be
insulted, and that she should be used thus for nothing; that if a man did
come in, he might go out again presently for aught she knew, for she was
ready to make oath that no man had been within her doors all that day as
she knew of (and that was very true indeed); that is might be indeed that
as she was abovestairs, any fellow in a fright might find the door open
and run in for shelter when he was pursued, but that she knew nothing
of it; and if it had been so, he certainly went out again, perhaps at the
other door, for she had another door into an alley, and so had made his
escape and cheated them all.
 170

This was indeed probable enough, and the justice satisfied himself with
giving her an oath that she had not received or admitted any man into
her house to conceal him, or protect or hide him from justice. This oath
she might justly take, and did so, and so she was dismissed.

It is easy to judge what a fright I was in upon this occasion, and it was
impossible for my governess ever to bring me to dress in that disguise
again; for, as I told her, I should certainly betray myself.

My poor partner in this mischief was now in a bad case, for he was
carried away before my Lord Mayor, and by his worship committed to
Newgate, and the people that took him were so willing, as well as able, to
prosecute him, that they offered themselves to enter into recognisances
to appear at the sessions and pursue the charge against him.

However, he got his indictment deferred, upon promise to discover his

accomplices, and particularly the man that was concerned with him in
his robbery; and he failed not to do his endeavour, for he gave in my
name, whom he called Gabriel Spencer, which was the name I went by to
him; and here appeared the wisdom of my concealing my name and sex
from him, which, if he had ever known I had been undone.

He did all he could to discover this Gabriel Spencer; he described me, he

discovered the place where he said I lodged, and, in a word, all the
particulars that he could of my dwelling; but having concealed the main
circumstances of my sex from him, I had a vast advantage, and he never
could hear of me. He brought two or three families into trouble by his
endeavouring to find me out, but they knew nothing of me, any more
than that I had a fellow with me that they had seen, but knew nothing of.
And as for my governess, though she was the means of his coming to me,
yet it was done at second-hand, and he knew nothing of her.

This turned to his disadvantage; for having promised discoveries, but not
being able to make it good, it was looked upon as trifling with the justice
of the city, and he was the more fiercely pursued by the shopkeepers who
took him.

I was, however, terribly uneasy all this while, and that I might be quite
out of the way, I went away from my governess's for a while; but not
knowing wither to wander, I took a maid-servant with me, and took the
stage-coach to Dunstable, to my old landlord and landlady, where I had
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lived so handsomely with my Lancashire husband. Here I told her a

formal story, that I expected my husband every day from Ireland, and
that I had sent a letter to him that I would meet him at Dunstable at her
house, and that he would certainly land, if the wind was fair, in a few
days, so that I was come to spend a few days with them till he should
come, for he was either come post, or in the West Chester coach, I knew
not which; but whichsoever it was, he would be sure to come to that
house to meet me.

My landlady was mighty glad to see me, and my landlord made such a
stir with me, that if I had been a princess I could not have been better
used, and here I might have been welcome a month or two if I had
thought fit.

But my business was of another nature. I was very uneasy (though so

well disguised that it was scarce possible to detect me) lest this fellow
should somehow or other find me out; and though he could not charge
me with this robbery, having persuaded him not to venture, and having
also done nothing in it myself but run away, yet he might have charged
me with other things, and have bought his own life at the expense of
mine.

This filled me with horrible apprehensions. I had no recourse, no friend,

no confidante but my old governess, and I knew no remedy but to put my
life in her hands, and so I did, for I let her know where to send to me,
and had several letters from her while I stayed here. Some of them
almost scared me out my wits but at last she sent me the joyful news that
he was hanged, which was the best news to me that I had heard a great
while.

I had stayed here five weeks, and lived very comfortably indeed (the
secret anxiety of my mind excepted); but when I received this letter I
looked pleasantly again, an told my landlady that I had received a letter
from my spouse in Ireland, that I had the good news of his being very
well, but had the bad news that his business would not permit him to
come away so soon as he expected, and so I was like to go back again
without him.

My landlady complimented me upon the good news however, that I had

heard he was well. 'For I have observed, madam,' says she, 'you hadn't
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been so pleasant as you used to be; you have been over head and ears in
care for him, I dare say,' says the good woman; ''tis easy to be seen
there's an alteration in you for the better,' says she. 'Well, I am sorry the
esquire can't come yet,' says my landlord; 'I should have been heartily
glad to have seen him. But I hope, when you have certain news of his
coming, you'll take a step hither again, madam,' says he; 'you shall be
very welcome whenever you please to come.;

With all these fine compliments we parted, and I came merry enough to
London, and found my governess as well pleased as I was. And now she
told me she would never recommend any partner to me again, for she
always found, she said, that I had the best luck when I ventured by
myself. And so indeed I had, for I was seldom in any danger when I was
by myself, or if I was, I got out of it with more dexterity than when I was
entangled with the dull measures of other people, who had perhaps less
forecast, and were more rash and impatient than I; for though I had as
much courage to venture as any of them, yet I used more caution before I
undertook a thing, and had more presence of mind when I was to bring
myself off.

I have often wondered even at my own hardiness another way, that when
all my companions were surprised and fell so suddenly into the hand of
justice, and that I so narrowly escaped, yet I could not all this while enter
into one serious resolution to leave off this trade, and especially
considering that I was now very far from being poor; that the temptation
of necessity, which is generally the introduction of all such wickedness,
was now removed; for I had near #500 by me in ready money, on which
I might have lived very well, if I had thought fit to have retired; but I say,
I had not so much as the least inclination to leave off; no, not so much as
I had before when I had but #200 beforehand, and when I had no such
frightful examples before my eyes as these were. From hence 'tis evident
to me, that when once we are hardened in crime, no fear can affect us, no
example give us any warning.

I had indeed one comrade whose fate went very near me for a good
while, though I wore it off too in time. That case was indeed very
unhappy. I had made a prize of a piece of very good damask in a mercer's
shop, and went clear off myself, but had conveyed the piece to this
companion of mine when we went out of the shop, and she went one way
 173

and I went another. We had not been long out of the shop but the mercer
missed his piece of stuff, and sent his messengers, one one way and one
another, and they presently seized her that had the piece, with the
damask upon her. As for me, I had very luckily stepped into a house
where there was a lace chamber, up one pair of stairs, and had the
satisfaction, or the terror indeed, of looking out of the window upon the
noise they made, and seeing the poor creature dragged away in triumph
to the justice, who immediately committed her to Newgate.

I was careful to attempt nothing in the lace chamber, but tumbled their
goods pretty much to spend time; then bought a few yards of edging and
paid for it, and came away very sad-hearted indeed for the poor woman,
who was in tribulation for what I only had stolen.

Here again my old caution stood me in good stead; namely, that though I
often robbed with these people, yet I never let them know who I was, or
where I lodged, nor could they ever find out my lodging, though they
often endeavoured to watch me to it. They all knew me by the name of
Moll Flanders, though even some of them rather believed I was she than
knew me to be so. My name was public among them indeed, but how to
find me out they knew not, nor so much as how to guess at my quarters,
whether they were at the east end of the town or the west; and this
wariness was my safety upon all these occasions.

I kept close a great while upon the occasion of this woman's disaster. I
knew that if I should do anything that should miscarry, and should be
carried to prison, she would be there and ready to witness against me,
and perhaps save her life at my expense. I considered that I began to be
very well known by name at the Old Bailey, though they did not know my
face, and that if I should fall into their hands, I should be treated as an
old offender; and for this reason I was resolved to see what this poor
creature's fate should be before I stirred abroad, though several times in
her distress I conveyed money to her for her relief.

At length she came to her trial. She pleaded she did not steal the thing,
but that one Mrs. Flanders, as she heard her called (for she did not know
her), gave the bundle to her after they came out of the shop, and bade
her carry it home to her lodging. They asked her where this Mrs.
Flanders was, but she could not produce her, neither could she give the
least account of me; and the mercer's men swearing positively that she
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was in the shop when the goods were stolen, that they immediately
missed them, and pursued her, and found them upon her, thereupon the
jury brought her in guilty; but the Court, considering that she was really
not the person that stole the goods, an inferior assistant, and that it was
very possible she could not find out this Mrs. Flanders, meaning me,
though it would save her life, which indeed was true--I say, considering
all this, they allowed her to be transported, which was the utmost favour
she could obtain, only that the Court told her that if she could in the
meantime produce the said Mrs. Flanders, they would intercede for her
pardon; that is to say, if she could find me out, and hand me, she should
not be transported. This I took care to make impossible to her, and so
she was shipped off in pursuance of her sentence a little while after.

I must repeat it again, that the fate of this poor woman troubled me
exceedingly, and I began to be very pensive, knowing that I was really the
instrument of her disaster; but the preservation of my own life, which
was so evidently in danger, took off all my tenderness; and seeing that
she was not put to death, I was very easy at her transportation, because
she was then out of the way of doing me any mischief, whatever should
happen.

The disaster of this woman was some months before that of the last-
recited story, and was indeed partly occasion of my governess proposing
to dress me up in men's clothes, that I might go about unobserved, as
indeed I did; but I was soon tired of that disguise, as I have said, for
indeed it exposed me to too many difficulties.

I was now easy as to all fear of witnesses against me, for all those that
had either been concerned with me, or that knew me by the name of Moll
Flanders, were either hanged or transported; and if I should have had
the misfortune to be taken, I might call myself anything else, as well as
Moll Flanders, and no old sins could be placed into my account; so I
began to run a-tick again with the more freedom, and several successful
adventures I made, though not such as I had made before.

We had at that time another fire happened not a great way off from the
place where my governess lived, and I made an attempt there, as before,
but as I was not soon enough before the crowd of people came in, and
could not get to the house I aimed at, instead of a prize, I got a mischief,
which had almost put a period to my life and all my wicked doings
 175

together; for the fire being very furious, and the people in a great fright
in removing their goods, and throwing them out of window, a wench
from out of a window threw a feather-bed just upon me. It is true, the
bed being soft, it broke no bones; but as the weight was great, and made
greater by the fall, it beat me down, and laid me dead for a while. Nor did
the people concern themselves much to deliver me from it, or to recover
me at all; but I lay like one dead and neglected a good while, till
somebody going to remove the bed out of the way, helped me up. It was
indeed a wonder the people in the house had not thrown other goods out
after it, and which might have fallen upon it, and then I had been
inevitably killed; but I was reserved for further afflictions.

This accident, however, spoiled my market for that time, and I came
home to my governess very much hurt and bruised, and frighted to the
last degree, and it was a good while before she could set me upon my feet
again.

It was now a merry time of the year, and Bartholomew Fair was begun. I
had never made any walks that way, nor was the common part of the fair
of much advantage to me; but I took a turn this year into the cloisters,
and among the rest I fell into one of the raffling shops. It was a thing of
no great consequence to me, nor did I expect to make much of it; but
there came a gentleman extremely well dressed and very rich, and as 'tis
frequent to talk to everybody in those shops, he singled me out, and was
very particular with me. First he told me he would put in for me to raffle,
and did so; and some small matter coming to his lot, he presented it to
me (I think it was a feather muff); then he continued to keep talking to
me with a more than common appearance of respect, but still very civil,
and much like a gentleman.

He held me in talk so long, till at last he drew me out of the raffling place
to the shop-door, and then to a walk in the cloister, still talking of a
thousand things cursorily without anything to the purpose. At last he
told me that, without compliment, he was charmed with my company,
and asked me if I durst trust myself in a coach with him; he told me he
was a man of honour, and would not offer anything to me unbecoming
him as such. I seemed to decline it a while, but suffered myself to be
importuned a little, and then yielded.
 176

I was at a loss in my thoughts to conclude at first what this gentleman

designed; but I found afterwards he had had some drink in his head, and
that he was not very unwilling to have some more. He carried me in the
coach to the Spring Garden, at Knightsbridge, where we walked in the
gardens, and he treated me very handsomely; but I found he drank very
freely. He pressed me also to drink, but I decline it.

Hitherto he kept his word with me, and offered me nothing amiss. We
came away in the coach again, and he brought me into the streets, and by
this time it was near ten o'clock at night, and he stopped the coach at a
house where, it seems, he was acquainted, and where they made no
scruple to show us upstairs into a room with a bed in it. At first I seemed
to be unwilling to go up, but after a few words I yielded to that too, being
willing to see the end of it, and in hope to make something of it at last. As
for the bed, etc., I was not much concerned about that part.

Here he began to be a little freer with me than he had promised; and I by

little and little yielded to everything, so that, in a word, he did what he
pleased with me; I need say no more. All this while he drank freely too,
and about one in the morning we went into the coach again. The air and
the shaking of the coach made the drink he had get more up in his head
than it was before, and he grew uneasy in the coach, and was for acting
over again what he had been doing before; but as I thought my game
now secure, I resisted him, and brought him to be a little still, which had
not lasted five minutes but he fell fast asleep.

I took this opportunity to search him to a nicety. I took a gold watch,

with a silk purse of gold, his fine full-bottom periwig and silver-fringed
gloves, his sword and fine snuff-box, and gently opening the coach door,
stood ready to jump out while the coach was going on; but the coach
stopped in the narrow street beyond Temple Bar to let another coach
pass, I got softly out, fastened the door again, and gave my gentleman
and the coach the slip both together, and never heard more of them.

This was an adventure indeed unlooked for, and perfectly undesigned by

me; though I was not so past the merry part of life, as to forget how to
behave, when a fop so blinded by his appetite should not know an old
woman from a young. I did not indeed look so old as I was by ten or
twelve years; yet I was not a young wench of seventeen, and it was easy
enough to be distinguished. There is nothing so absurd, so surfeiting, so
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ridiculous, as a man heated by wine in his head, and wicked gust in his
inclination together; he is in the possession of two devils at once, and can
no more govern himself by his reason than a mill can grind without
water; his vice tramples upon all that was in him that had any good in it,
if any such thing there was; nay, his very sense is blinded by its own rage,
and he acts absurdities even in his views; such a drinking more, when he
is drunk already; picking up a common woman, without regard to what
she is or who she is, whether sound or rotten, clean or unclean, whether
ugly or handsome, whether old or young, and so blinded as not really to
distinguish. Such a man is worse than a lunatic; prompted by his vicious,
corrupted head, he no more knows what he is doing than this wretch of
mine knew when I picked his pocket of his watch and his purse of gold.

These are the men of whom Solomon says, 'They go like an ox to the
slaughter, till a dart strikes through their liver'; an admirable
description, by the way, of the foul disease, which is a poisonous deadly
contagion mingling with the blood, whose centre or foundation is in the
liver; from whence, by the swift circulation of the whole mass, that
dreadful nauseous plague strikes immediately through his liver, and his
spirits are infected, his vitals stabbed through as with a dart.

It is true this poor unguarded wretch was in no danger from me, though
I was greatly apprehensive at first of what danger I might be in from
him; but he was really to be pitied in one respect, that he seemed to be a
good sort of man in himself; a gentleman that had no harm in his design;
a man of sense, and of a fine behaviour, a comely handsome person, a
sober solid countenance, a charming beautiful face, and everything that
could be agreeable; only had unhappily had some drink the night before,
had not been in bed, as he told me when we were together; was hot, and
his blood fired with wine, and in that condition his reason, as it were
asleep, had given him up.

As for me, my business was his money, and what I could make of him;
and after that, if I could have found out any way to have done it, I would
have sent him safe home to his house and to his family, for 'twas ten to
one but he had an honest, virtuous wife and innocent children, that were
anxious for his safety, and would have been glad to have gotten him
home, and have taken care of him till he was restored to himself. And
then with what shame and regret would he look back upon himself! how
 178

would he reproach himself with associating himself with a whore! picked

up in the worst of all holes, the cloister, among the dirt and filth of all the
town! how would he be trembling for fear he had got the pox, for fear a
dart had struck through his liver, and hate himself every time he looked
back upon the madness and brutality of his debauch! how would he, if he
had any principles of honour, as I verily believe he had--I say, how would
he abhor the thought of giving any ill distemper, if he had it, as for aught
he knew he might, to his modest and virtuous wife, and thereby sowing
the contagion in the life-blood of his prosterity.

Would such gentlemen but consider the contemptible thoughts which

the very women they are concerned with, in such cases as these, have of
them, it would be a surfeit to them. As I said above, they value not the
pleasure, they are raised by no inclination to the man, the passive jade
thinks of no pleasure but the money; and when he is, as it were, drunk in
the ecstasies of his wicked pleasure, her hands are in his pockets
searching for what she can find there, and of which he can no more be
sensible in the moment of his folly that he can forethink of it when he
goes about it.

I knew a woman that was so dexterous with a fellow, who indeed

deserved no better usage, that while he was busy with her another way,
conveyed his purse with twenty guineas in it out of his fob-pocket, where
he had put it for fear of her, and put another purse with gilded counters
in it into the room of it. After he had done, he says to her, 'Now han't you
picked my pocket?' She jested with him, and told him she supposed he
had not much to lose; he put his hand to his fob, and with his fingers felt
that his purse was there, which fully satisfied him, and so she brought off
his money. And this was a trade with her; she kept a sham gold watch,
that is, a watch of silver gilt, and a purse of counters in her pocket to be
ready on all such occasions, and I doubt not practiced it with success.

I came home with this last booty to my governess, and really when I told
her the story, it so affected her that she was hardly able to forbear tears,
to know how such a gentleman ran a daily risk of being undone every
time a glass of wine got into his head.

But as to the purchase I got, and how entirely I stripped him, she told me
it please her wonderfully. 'Nay child,' says she, 'the usage may, for aught
 179

I know, do more to reform him than all the sermons that ever he will
hear in his life.' And if the remainder of the story be true, so it did.

I found the next day she was wonderful inquisitive about this gentleman;
the description I had given her of him, his dress, his person, his face,
everything concurred to make her think of a gentleman whose character
she knew, and family too. She mused a while, and I going still on with
the particulars, she starts up; says she, 'I'll lay #100 I know the
gentleman.'

'I am sorry you do,' says I, 'for I would not have him exposed on any
account in the world; he has had injury enough already by me, and I
would not be instrumental to do him any more.' 'No, no,' says she, 'I will
do him no injury, I assure you, but you may let me satisfy my curiosity a
little, for if it is he, I warrant you I find it out.' I was a little startled at
that, and told her, with an apparent concern in my face, that by the same
rule he might find me out, and then I was undone. She returned warmly,
'Why, do you think I will betray you, child? No, no,' says she, 'not for all
he is worth in the world. I have kept your counsel in worse things than
these; sure you may trust me in this.' So I said no more at that time.

She laid her scheme another way, and without acquainting me of it, but
she was resolved to find it out if possible. So she goes to a certain friend
of hers who was acquainted in the family that she guessed at, and told
her friend she had some extraordinary business with such a gentleman
(who, by the way, was no less than a baronet, and of a very good family),
and that she knew not how to come at him without somebody to
introduce her. Her friend promised her very readily to do it, and
accordingly goes to the house to see if the gentleman was in town.

The next day she come to my governess and tells her that Sir ---was at
home, but that he had met with a disaster and was very ill, and there was
no speaking with him. 'What disaster?' says my governess hastily, as if
she was surprised at it. 'Why,' says her friend, 'he had been at
Hampstead to visit a gentleman of his acquaintance, and as he came
back again he was set upon and robbed; and having got a little drink too,
as they suppose, the rogues abused him, and he is very ill.' 'Robbed!' says
my governess, 'and what did they take from him?' 'Why,' says her friend,
'they took his gold watch and his gold snuff-box, his fine periwig, and
 180

what money he had in his pocket, which was considerable, to be sure, for
Sir --- never goes without a purse of guineas about him.'

'Pshaw!' says my old governess, jeering, 'I warrant you he has got drunk
now and got a whore, and she has picked his pocket, and so he comes
home to his wife and tells her he has been robbed. That's an old sham; a
thousand such tricks are put upon the poor women every day.'

'Fie!' says her friend, 'I find you don't know Sir ----; why he is a civil a
gentleman, there is not a finer man, nor a soberer, graver, modester
person in the whole city; he abhors such things; there's nobody that
knows him will think such a thing of him.' 'Well, well,' says my
governess, 'that's none of my business; if it was, I warrant I should find
there was something of that kind in it; your modest men in common
opinion are sometimes no better than other people, only they keep a
better character, or, if you please, are the better hypocrites.'

'No, no,' says her friend, 'I can assure you Sir ---is no hypocrite, he is
really an honest, sober gentleman, and he has certainly been robbed.'
'Nay,' says my governess, 'it may be he has; it is no business of mine, I
tell you; I only want to speak with him; my business is of another nature.'
'But,' says her friend, 'let your business be of what nature it will, you
cannot see him yet, for he is not fit to be seen, for he is very ill, and
bruised very much,' 'Ay,' says my governess, 'nay, then he has fallen into
bad hands, to be sure,' And then she asked gravely, 'Pray, where is he
bruised?' 'Why, in the head,' says her friend, 'and one of his hands, and
his face, for they used him barbarously.' 'Poor gentleman,' says my
governess, 'I must wait, then, till he recovers'; and adds, 'I hope it will
not be long, for I want very much to speak with him.'

Away she comes to me and tells me this story. 'I have found out your fine
gentleman, and a fine gentleman he was,' says she; 'but, mercy on him,
he is in a sad pickle now. I wonder what the d--l you have done to him;
why, you have almost killed him.' I looked at her with disorder enough. 'I
killed him!' says I; 'you must mistake the person; I am sure I did nothing
to him; he was very well when I left him,' said I, 'only drunk and fast
asleep.' 'I know nothing of that,' says she, 'but he is in a sad pickle now';
and so she told me all that her friend had said to her. 'Well, then,' says I,
'he fell into bad hands after I left him, for I am sure I left him safe
enough.'
 181

About ten days after, or a little more, my governess goes again to her
friend, to introduce her to this gentleman; she had inquired other ways
in the meantime, and found that he was about again, if not abroad again,
so she got leave to speak with him.

She was a woman of a admirable address, and wanted nobody to

introduce her; she told her tale much better than I shall be able to tell it
for her, for she was a mistress of her tongue, as I have said already. She
told him that she came, though a stranger, with a single design of doing
him a service and he should find she had no other end in it; that as she
came purely on so friendly an account, she begged promise from him,
that if he did not accept what she should officiously propose he would
not take it ill that she meddled with what was not her business. She
assured him that as what she had to say was a secret that belonged to
him only, so whether he accepted her offer or not, it should remain a
secret to all the world, unless he exposed it himself; nor should his
refusing her service in it make her so little show her respect as to do him
the least injury, so that he should be entirely at liberty to act as he
thought fit.

He looked very shy at first, and said he knew nothing that related to him
that required much secrecy; that he had never done any man any wrong,
and cared not what anybody might say of him; that it was no part of his
character to be unjust to anybody, nor could he imagine in what any man
could render him any service; but that if it was so disinterested a service
as she said, he could not take it ill from any one that they should
endeavour to serve him; and so, as it were, left her a liberty either to tell
him or not to tell, as she thought fit.

She found him so perfectly indifferent, that she was almost afraid to
enter into the point with him; but, however, after some other
circumlocutions she told him that by a strange and unaccountable
accident she came to have a particular knowledge of the late unhappy
adventure he had fallen into, and that in such a manner, that there was
nobody in the world but herself and him that were acquainted with it, no,
not the very person that was with him.

He looked a little angrily at first. 'What adventure?' said he. 'Why,' said
she, 'of your being robbed coming from Knightbr----; Hampstead, sir, I
should say,' says she. 'Be not surprised, sir,' says she, 'that I am able to
 182

tell you every step you took that day from the cloister in Smithfield to the
Spring Garden at Knightsbridge, and thence to the ---in the Strand, and
how you were left asleep in the coach afterwards. I say, let not this
surprise you, for, sir, I do not come to make a booty of you, I ask nothing
of you, and I assure you the woman that was with you knows nothing
who you are, and never shall; and yet perhaps I may serve you further
still, for I did not come barely to let you know that I was informed of
these things, as if I wanted a bride to conceal them; assure yourself, sir,'
said she, 'that whatever you think fit to do or say to me, it shall be all a
secret as it is, as much as if I were in my grave.'

He was astonished at her discourse, and said gravely to her, 'Madam, you
are a stranger to me, but it is very unfortunate that you should be let into
the secret of the worst action of my life, and a thing that I am so justly
ashamed of, that the only satisfaction of it to me was, that I thought it
was known only to God any my own conscience.' 'Pray, sir,' says she, 'do
not reckon the discovery of it to me to be any part of your misfortune. It
was a thing, I believe, you were surprised into, and perhaps the woman
used some art to prompt you to it; however, you will never find any just
cause,' said she, 'to repent that I came to hear of it; nor can your own
mouth be more silent in it that I have been, and ever shall be.'

'Well,' says he, 'but let me do some justice to the woman too; whoever
she is, I do assure you she prompted me to nothing, she rather declined
me. It was my own folly and madness that brought me into it all, ay, and
brought her into it too; I must give her her due so far. As to what she
took from me, I could expect no less from her in the condition I was in,
and to this hour I know not whether she robbed me or the coachman; if
she did it, I forgive her, and I think all gentlemen that do so should be
used in the same manner; but I am more concerned for some other
things that I am for all that she took from me.'

My governess now began to come into the whole matter, and he opened
himself freely to her. First she said to him, in answer to what he had said
about me, 'I am glad, sir, you are so just to the person that you were
with; I assure you she is a gentlewoman, and no woman of the town; and
however you prevailed with her so far as you did, I am sure 'tis not her
practice. You ran a great venture indeed, sir; but if that be any part of
your care, I am persuaded you may be perfectly easy, for I dare assure
 183

you no man has touched her, before you, since her husband, and he has
been dead now almost eight years.'

It appeared that this was his grievance, and that he was in a very great
fright about it; however, when my governess said this to him, he
appeared very well pleased, and said, 'Well, madam, to be plain with you,
if I was satisfied of that, I should not so much value what I lost; for, as to
that, the temptation was great, and perhaps she was poor and wanted it.'
'If she had not been poor, sir ----,' says my governess, 'I assure you she
would never have yielded to you; and as her poverty first prevailed with
her to let you do as you did, so the same poverty prevailed with her to
pay herself at last, when she saw you was in such a condition, that if she
had not done it, perhaps the next coachman might have done it.'

'Well,' says he, 'much good may it do her. I say again, all the gentlemen
that do so ought to be used in the same manner, and then they would be
cautious of themselves. I have no more concern about it, but on the score
which you hinted at before, madam.' Here he entered into some
freedoms with her on the subject of what passed between us, which are
not so proper for a woman to write, and the great terror that was upon
his mind with relation to his wife, for fear he should have received any
injury from me, and should communicate if farther; and asked her at last
if she could not procure him an opportunity to speak with me. My
governess gave him further assurances of my being a woman clear from
any such thing, and that he was as entirely save in that respect as he was
with his own lady; but as for seeing me, she said it might be of dangerous
consequence; but, however, that she would talk with me, and let him
know my answer, using at the same time some arguments to persuade
him not to desire it, and that it could be of no service to him, seeing she
hoped he had no desire to renew a correspondence with me, and that on
my account it was a kind of putting my life in his hands.

He told her he had a great desire to see me, that he would give her any
assurances that were in his power, not to take any advantages of me, and
that in the first place he would give me a general release from all
demands of any kind. She insisted how it might tend to a further
divulging the secret, and might in the end be injurious to him, entreating
him not to press for it; so at length he desisted.
 184

They had some discourse upon the subject of the things he had lost, and
he seemed to be very desirous of his gold watch, and told her if she could
procure that for him, he would willingly give as much for it as it was
worth. She told him she would endeavour to procure it for him, and leave
the valuing it to himself.

Accordingly the next day she carried the watch, and he gave her thirty
guineas for it, which was more than I should have been able to make of
it, though it seems it cost much more. He spoke something of his
periwig, which it seems cost him threescore guineas, and his snuff-box,
and in a few days more she carried them too; which obliged him very
much, and he gave her thirty more. The next day I sent him his fine
sword and cane gratis, and demanded nothing of him, but I had no mind
to see him, unless it had been so that he might be satisfied I knew who he
was, which he was not willing to.

Then he entered into a long talk with her of the manner how she came to
know all this matter. She formed a long tale of that part; how she had it
from one that I had told the whole story to, and that was to help me
dispose of the goods; and this confidante brought the things to her, she
being by profession a pawnbroker; and she hearing of his worship's
disaster, guessed at the thing in general; that having gotten the things
into her hands, she had resolved to come and try as she had done. She
then gave him repeated assurances that it should never go out of her
mouth, and though she knew the woman very well, yet she had not let
her know, meaning me, anything of it; that is to say, who the person was,
which, by the way, was false; but, however, it was not to his damage, for I
never opened my mouth of it to anybody.

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
 185

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 biassed 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 him 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.
 186

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
 187

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 St.
John Street. There were several carriers used the inn, and the stage-
coaches for Barnet, for Totteridge, and other towns that way stood
always in the street in the evening, when they prepared to set out, so that
I was ready for anything that offered, for either one or other. The
meaning was this; people come frequently with bundles and small
parcels to those inns, and call for such carriers or coaches as they want,
to carry them into the country; and there generally attend women,
porters' wives or daughters, ready to take in such things for their
respective people that employ them.

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 Barnet. She asked 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 Hadley, 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
 188

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 I. 'Here's this girl, pray let her go into the coach,' says
she, 'and I'll go and fetch my mistress.' 'Make haste, then, sweetheart,'
says I, 'for we may be full else.' The maid had a great bundle under her
arm; so she put the child into the coach, and I said, 'You had best put
your bundle into the coach too.' 'No,' says she, 'I am afraid somebody
should slip it away from the child.' 'Give to me, then,' said I, 'and I'll take
care of it.' 'Do, then,' says she, 'and be sure you take of it.' 'I'll answer for
it,' said I, 'if it were for #20 value.' "There, take it, then,' says she, and
away she goes.

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 Charterhouse Lane,
then crossed 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
through the Bluecoat 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.
 189

This was not indeed my own invention, but was given me by one that had
practised 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 Chapel, 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 Bishopgate, where the Cheston 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 Newcastle-upon-
Tyne, Sunderland, and other places. Here, the warehouses being shut,
comes a young fellow with a letter; and he wanted a box and a hamper
that was come from Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I asked him if he had the
marks of it; so he shows me the letter, by virtue of which he was to ask
for it, and which gave an account of the contents, the box being full of
linen, and the hamper full of glass ware. I read the letter, and took care
to see the name, and the marks, the name of the person that sent the
goods, the name of the person that they were sent to; then I bade the
messenger come in the morning, for that the warehouse-keeper would
not be there any more that night.

Away went I, and getting materials in a public house, I wrote a letter

from Mr. John Richardson of Newcastle to his dear cousin Jemmy 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 glasshouse; 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 #22.

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.
 190

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 Covent
Garden, there was a great cry of 'Stop thief! Stop thief!' some artists had,
it seems, put a trick upon a shopkeeper, and being pursued, some of
them fled one way, and some another; and one of them was, they said,
dressed up in widow's weeds, upon which the mob gathered about me,
and some said I was the person, others said no. Immediately came the
mercer's journeyman, and he swore aloud I was the person, and so seized
on me. However, when I was brought back by the mob to the mercer's
shop, the master of the house said freely that I was not the woman that
was in his shop, and would have let me go immediately; but another
fellow said gravely, 'Pray stay till Mr. ----' (meaning the journeyman)
'comes back, for he knows her.' So they kept me by force near half an
hour. They had called a constable, and he stood in the shop as my jailer;
and in talking with the constable I inquired where he lived, and what
trade he was; the man not apprehending in the least what happened
afterwards, readily told me his name, and trade, and where he lived; and
told me as a jest, that I might be sure to hear of his name when I came to
the Old Bailey.

Some of the servants likewise used me saucily, and had much ado to
keep their hands off me; the master indeed was civiller 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
 191

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.' 'Damn 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
 192

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
 193

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
 194

gentleman,' says he to the journeyman, 'you must go along with us; I

hope you are not above the constable's power, though your master is.'
 195

CHAPTER 10

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 endeavoured to bring the hot-brained
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 loth to give, but there was no remedy, so I
told him my name was Mary Flanders, that I was a widow, my husband
 196

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.
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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, hallooing 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 #500 for damages, besides what you shall get out of the
journeyman.'

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 Bailey, 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
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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. 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 blowed 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 #500 and charges, and they
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offered #50 without charges; so they broke off, and the mercer proposed
to have a meeting with me myself; and my attorney agreed to that very
readily.

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
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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 #100 and to pay all the law
charges, and added that he would make me a present of a very good suit
of clothes. I came down to #300, and I demanded that I should publish
an advertisement of the particulars in the common newspapers.

This was a clause he never could comply with. However, at last he came
up, by good management of my attorney, to #150 and a suit of black silk
clothes; and there I agree, and as it were, at my attorney's request,
complied with it, he paying my attorney's bill and charges, and gave us a
good supper into the bargain.

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 #200 in all, or rather more. At our last
meeting, when all was agreed, the case of the journeyman came up, and
the mercer begged very hard for him; told me he was a man that had
kept a shop of his own, and been in good business, had a wife, and
several children, and was very poor; that he had nothing to make
satisfaction with, but he should come to beg my pardon on his knees, if I
desired it, as openly as I pleased. I had no spleen at the saucy rogue, nor
were his submissions anything to me, since there was nothing to be got
by him, so I thought it was as good to throw that in generously as not; so
I told him I did not desire the ruin of any man, and therefore at his
request I would forgive the wretch; it was below me to seek any revenge.

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,
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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 #700 by me in money,
besides clothes, rings, some plate, and two gold watches, and all of them
stolen, for I had innumerable jobs besides these I have mentioned. Oh!
had I even now had the grace of repentance, I had still leisure to have
looked back upon my follies, and have made some reparation; but the
satisfaction I was to make for the public mischiefs I had done was yet left
behind; and I could not forbear going abroad again, as I called it now,
than any more I could when my extremity really drove me out for bread.

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, draggled, 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
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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.
 203

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 baulked 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
 204

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 #20.

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
 205

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-carriaged 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.
 206

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 Haymarket, 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.
 207

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 guineas, madam; set them for me.' so I
took his money and set, himself looking on. I ran out nine of the guineas
by one and two at a time, and then the box coming to the next man to
me, my gentleman gave me ten guineas more, and made me set five of
them at once, and the gentleman who had the box threw out, so there
was five guineas of his money again. He was encouraged at this, and
made me take the box, which was a bold venture. However, I held the
box so long that I had gained him his whole money, and had a good
handful of guineas in my lap, and which was the better luck, when I
 208

threw out, I threw but at one or two of those that had set me, and so went
off easy.

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 guineas that
he had put in at first, and bade me play with the rest. I would have told
them to see how much I had got, but he said, 'No, no, don't tell them, I
believe you are very honest, and 'tis bad luck to tell them'; so I played on.

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 guineas.' So I gave him all the
money, but he would not take it till I had put my hand into it, and taken
some for myself, and bid me please myself. I refused it, and was positive
I would not take it myself; if he had a mind to anything of that kind, it
should be all his own doings.

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 thirty
guineas, besides about forty-three which I had stole privately, which I
was sorry for afterward, because he was so generous.
 209

Thus I brought home seventy-three 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 Bailey.

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 Stourbridge 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 thought 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,
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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 portmanteaux and Dutch hampers, which
were generally guarded by footmen; however, I fairly got one of their
portmanteaux 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
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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
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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 Hadley, 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, that so I might get a place there in the coaches. The honest
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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 Colchester, 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
Colchester. 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 benefacress
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.
 214

I dismissed my old man here, and stayed incognito for three or four days
in Colchester, 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
 215

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 t'other 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.
 216

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.

Give the goldsmith his due, he told his story with a great deal of justice
and moderation, and the fellow that had come over, and seized upon me,
told his with as much heat and foolish passion, which did me good still,
rather than harm. It came then to my turn to speak, and I told his
worship that I was a stranger in London, being newly come out of the
north; that I lodged in such a place, that I was passing this street, and
went into the goldsmith's shop to buy half a dozen of spoons. By great
luck I had an old silver spoon in my pocket, which I pulled out, and told
him I had carried that spoon to match it with half a dozen of new ones,
that it might match some I had in the country.

That seeing nobody I the shop, I knocked with my foot very hard to make
the people hear, and had also called aloud with my voice; 'tis true, there
was loose plate in the shop, but that nobody could say I had touched any
of it, or gone near it; that a fellow came running into the shop out of the
street, and laid hands on me in a furious manner, in the very moments
while I was calling for the people of the house; that if he had really had a
mind to have done his neighbour any service, he should have stood at a
distance, and silently watched to see whether I had touched anything or
no, and then have clapped in upon me, and taken me in the fact. 'That is
very true,' says Mr. Alderman, and turning to the fellow that stopped me,
he asked him if it was true that I knocked with my foot? He said, yes, I
had knocked, but that might be because of his coming. 'Nay,' says the
alderman, taking him short, 'now you contradict yourself, for just now
you said she was in the shop with her back to you, and did not see you till
you came upon her.' Now it was true that my back was partly to the
street, but yet as my business was of a kind that required me to have my
eyes every way, so I really had a glance of him running over, as I said
before, though he did not perceive it.

After a full hearing, the alderman gave it as his opinion that his
neighbour was under a mistake, and that I was innocent, and the
goldsmith acquiesced in it too, and his wife, and so I was dismissed; but
as I was going to depart, Mr. Alderman said, 'But hold, madam, if you
 217

were designing to buy spoons, I hope you will not let my friend here lose
his customer by the mistake.' I readily answered, 'No, sir, I'll buy the
spoons still, if he can match my odd spoon, which I brought for a
pattern'; and the goldsmith showed me some of the very same fashion.
So he weighed the spoons, and they came to five-and-thirty shillings, so I
pulls out my purse to pay him, in which I had near twenty guineas, for I
never went without such a sum about me, whatever might happen, and I
found it of use at other times as well as now.

When Mr. Alderman saw my money, he said, 'Well, madam, now I am

satisfied you were wronged, and it was for this reason that I moved you
should buy the spoons, and stayed till you had bought them, for if you
had not had money to pay for them, I should have suspected that you did
not come into the shop with an intent to buy, for indeed the sort of
people who come upon these designs that you have been charged with,
are seldom troubled with much gold in their pockets, as I see you are.'

I smiled, and told his worship, that then I owed something of his favour
to my money, but I hoped he saw reason also in the justice he had done
me before. He said, yes, he had, but this had confirmed his opinion, and
he was fully satisfied now of my having been injured. So I came off with
flying colours, though from an affair in which I was at the very brink of
destruction.

It was but three days after this, that not at all made cautious by my
former danger, as I used to be, and still pursuing the art which I had so
long been employed in, I ventured into a house where I saw the doors
open, and furnished myself, as I though verily without being perceived,
with two pieces of flowered silks, such as they call brocaded silk, very
rich. It was not a mercer's shop, nor a warehouse of a mercer, but looked
like a private dwelling-house, and was, it seems, inhabited by a man that
sold goods for the weavers to the mercers, like a broker or factor.

That I may make short of this black part of this story, I was attacked by
two wenches that came open-mouthed at me just as I was going out at
the door, and one of them pulled me back into the room, while the other
shut the door upon me. I would have given them good words, but there
was no room for it, two fiery dragons could not have been more furious
than they were; they tore my clothes, bullied and roared as if they would
 218

have murdered me; the mistress of the house came next, and then the
master, and all outrageous, for a while especially.

I gave the master very good words, told him the door was open, and
things were a temptation to me, that I was poor and distressed, and
poverty was when many could not resist, and begged him with tears to
have pity on me. The mistress of the house was moved with compassion,
and inclined to have let me go, and had almost persuaded her husband to
it also, but the saucy wenches were run, even before they were sent, and
had fetched a constable, and then the master said he could not go back, I
must go before a justice, and answered his wife that he might come into
trouble himself if he should let me go.

The sight of the constable, indeed, struck me with terror, and I thought I
should have sunk into the ground. I fell into faintings, and indeed the
people themselves thought I would have died, when the woman argued
again for me, and entreated her husband, seeing they had lost nothing, to
let me go. I offered him to pay for the two pieces, whatever the value was,
though I had not got them, and argued that as he had his goods, and had
really lost nothing, it would be cruel to pursue me to death, and have my
blood for the bare attempt of taking them. I put the constable in mind
that I had broke no doors, nor carried anything away; and when I came
to the justice, and pleaded there that I had neither broken anything to
get in, nor carried anything out, the justice was inclined to have released
me; but the first saucy jade that stopped me, affirming that I was going
out with the goods, but that she stopped me and pulled me back as I was
upon the threshold, the justice upon that point committed me, and I was
carried to Newgate. That horrid place! my very blood chills at the
mention of its name; the place where so many of my comrades had been
locked up, and from whence they went to the fatal tree; the place where
my mother suffered so deeply, where I was brought into the world, and
from whence I expected no redemption but by an infamous death: to
conclude, the place that had so long expected me, and which with so
much art and success I had so long avoided.

I was not fixed indeed; 'tis impossible to describe the terror of my mind,
when I was first brought in, and when I looked around upon all the
horrors of that dismal place. I looked on myself as lost, and that I had
nothing to think of but of going out of the world, and that with the
 219

utmost infamy: the hellish noise, the roaring, swearing, and clamour, the
stench and nastiness, and all the dreadful crowd of afflicting things that I
saw there, joined together to make the place seem an emblem of hell
itself, and a kind of an entrance into it.

Now I reproached myself with the many hints I had had, as I have
mentioned above, from my own reason, from the sense of my good
circumstances, and of the many dangers I had escaped, to leave off while
I was well, and how I had withstood them all, and hardened my thoughts
against all fear. It seemed to me that I was hurried on by an inevitable
and unseen fate to this day of misery, and that now I was to expiate all
my offences at the gallows; that I was now to give satisfaction to justice
with my blood, and that I was come to the last hour of my life and of my
wickedness together. These things poured themselves in upon my
thoughts in a confused manner, and left me overwhelmed with
melancholy and despair.

Them I repented heartily of all my life past, but that repentance yielded
me no satisfaction, no peace, no, not in the least, because, as I said to
myself, it was repenting after the power of further sinning was taken
away. I seemed not to mourn that I had committed such crimes, and for
the fact as it was an offence against God and my neighbour, but I
mourned that I was to be punished for it. I was a penitent, as I thought,
not that I had sinned, but that I was to suffer, and this took away all the
comfort, and even the hope of my repentance in my own thoughts.

I got no sleep for several nights or days after I came into that wretched
place, and glad I would have been for some time to have died there,
though I did not consider dying as it ought to be considered neither;
indeed, nothing could be filled with more horror to my imagination than
the very place, nothing was more odious to me than the company that
was there. Oh! if I had but been sent to any place in the world, and not to
Newgate, I should have thought myself happy.

In the next place, how did the hardened wretches that were there before
me triumph over me! What! Mrs. Flanders come to Newgate at last?
What! Mrs. Mary, Mrs. Molly, and after that plain Moll Flanders? They
thought the devil had helped me, they said, that I had reigned so long;
they expected me there many years ago, and was I come at last? Then
they flouted me with my dejections, welcomed me to the place, wished
 220

me joy, bid me have a good heart, not to be cast down, things might not
be so bad as I feared, and the like; then called for brandy, and drank to
me, but put it all up to my score, for they told me I was but just come to
the college, as they called it, and sure I had money in my pocket, though
they had none.

I asked one of this crew how long she had been there. She said four
months. I asked her how the place looked to her when she first came into
it. 'Just as it did now to you,' says she, dreadful and frightful'; that she
thought she was in hell; 'and I believe so still,' adds she, 'but it is natural
to me now, I don't disturb myself about it.' 'I suppose,' says I, 'you are in
no danger of what is to follow?' 'Nay,' says she, 'for you are mistaken
there, I assure you, for I am under sentence, only I pleaded my belly, but
I am no more with child than the judge that tried me, and I expect to be
called down next sessions.' This 'calling down' is calling down to their
former judgment, when a woman has been respited for her belly, but
proves not to be with child, or if she has been with child, and has been
brought to bed. 'Well,' says I, 'are you thus easy?' 'Ay,' says she, 'I can't
help myself; what signifies being sad? If I am hanged, there's an end of
me,' says she; and away she turns dancing, and sings as she goes the
following piece of Newgate wit ---

'If I swing by the string I shall hear the bell ring

And then there's an end of poor Jenny.'
 221

CHAPTER 11

I mention this because it would be worth the observation of any prisoner,

who shall hereafter fall into the same misfortune, and come to that
dreadful place of Newgate, how time, necessity, and conversing with the
wretches that are there familiarizes the place to them; how at last they
become reconciled to that which at first was the greatest dread upon
their spirits in the world, and are as impudently cheerful and merry in
their misery as they were when out of it.

I cannot say, as some do, this devil is not so black as he is painted; for
indeed no colours can represent the place to the life, not any soul
conceive aright of it but those who have been suffers there. But how hell
should become by degree so natural, and not only tolerable, but even
agreeable, is a thing unintelligible but by those who have experienced it,
as I have.

The same night that I was sent to Newgate, I sent the news of it to my old
governess, who was surprised at it, you may be sure, and spent the night
almost as ill out of Newgate, as I did in it.

The next morning she came to see me; she did what she could to comfort
me, but she saw that was to no purpose; however, as she said, to sink
under the weight was but to increase the weight; she immediately
applied herself to all the proper methods to prevent the effects of it,
which we feared, and first she found out the two fiery jades that had
surprised me. She tampered with them, offered them money, and, in a
word, tried all imaginable ways to prevent a prosecution; she offered one
of the wenches #100 to go away from her mistress, and not to appear
against me, but she was so resolute, that though she was but a servant
maid at #3 a year wages or thereabouts, she refused it, and would have
refused it, as my governess said she believed, if she had offered her
#500. Then she attacked the other maid; she was not so hard-hearted in
appearance as the other, and sometimes seemed inclined to be merciful;
but the first wench kept her up, and changed her mind, and would not so
much as let my governess talk with her, but threatened to have her up for
tampering with the evidence.
 222

Then she applied to the master, that is to say, the man whose goods had
been stolen, and particularly to his wife, who, as I told you, was inclined
at first to have some compassion for me; she found the woman the same
still, but the man alleged he was bound by the justice that committed me,
to prosecute, and that he should forfeit his recognisance.

My governess offered to find friends that should get his recognisances off
of the file, as they call it, and that he should not suffer; but it was not
possible to convince him that could be done, or that he could be safe any
way in the world but by appearing against me; so I was to have three
witnesses of fact against me, the master and his two maids; that is to say,
I was as certain to be cast for my life as I was certain that I was alive, and
I had nothing to do but to think of dying, and prepare for it. I had but a
sad foundation to build upon, as I said before, for all my repentance
appeared to me to be only the effect of my fear of death, not a sincere
regret for the wicked life that I had lived, and which had brought this
misery upon me, for the offending my Creator, who was now suddenly to
be my judge.

I lived many days here under the utmost horror of soul; I had death, as it
were, in view, and thought of nothing night and day, but of gibbets and
halters, evil spirits and devils; it is not to be expressed by words how I
was harassed, between the dreadful apprehensions of death and the
terror of my conscience reproaching me with my past horrible life.

The ordinary Of Newgate came to me, and talked a little in his way, but
all his divinity ran upon confessing my crime, as he called it (though he
knew not what I was in for), making a full discovery, and the like,
without which he told me God would never forgive me; and he said so
little to the purpose, that I had no manner of consolation from him; and
then to observe the poor creature preaching confession and repentance
to me in the morning, and find him drunk with brandy and spirits by
noon, this had something in it so shocking, that I began to nauseate the
man more than his work, and his work too by degrees, for the sake of the
man; so that I desired him to trouble me no more.

I know not how it was, but by the indefatigable application of my diligent

governess I had no bill preferred against me the first sessions, I mean to
the grand jury, at Guildhall; so I had another month or five weeks before
me, and without doubt this ought to have been accepted by me, as so
 223

much time given me for reflection upon what was past, and preparation
for what was to come; or, in a word, I ought to have esteemed it as a
space given me for repentance, and have employed it as such, but it was
not in me. I was sorry (as before) for being in Newgate, but had very few
signs of repentance about me.

On the contrary, like the waters in the cavities and hollows of mountains,
which petrify and turn into stone whatever they are suffered to drop on,
so the continual conversing with such a crew of hell-hounds as I was, had
the same common operation upon me as upon other people. I
degenerated into stone; I turned first stupid and senseless, then brutish
and thoughtless, and at last raving mad as any of them were; and, in
short, I became as naturally pleased and easy with the place, as if indeed
I had been born there.

It is scarce possible to imagine that our natures should be capable of so

much degeneracy, as to make that pleasant and agreeable that in itself is
the most complete misery. Here was a circumstance that I think it is
scarce possible to mention a worse: I was as exquisitely miserable as,
speaking of common cases, it was possible for any one to be that had life
and health, and money to help them, as I had.

I had weight of guilt upon me enough to sink any creature who had the
least power of reflection left, and had any sense upon them of the
happiness of this life, of the misery of another; then I had at first
remorse indeed, but no repentance; I had now neither remorse nor
repentance. I had a crime charged on me, the punishment of which was
death by our law; the proof so evident, that there was no room for me so
much as to plead not guilty. I had the name of an old offender, so that I
had nothing to expect but death in a few weeks' time, neither had I
myself any thoughts of escaping; and yet a certain strange lethargy of
soul possessed me. I had no trouble, no apprehensions, no sorrow about
me, the first surprise was gone; I was, I may well say, I know not how;
my senses, my reason, nay, my conscience, were all asleep; my course of
life for forty years had been a horrid complication of wickedness,
whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft; and, in a word, everything but
murder and treason had been my practice from the age of eighteen, or
thereabouts, to three-score; and now I was engulfed in the misery of
punishment, and had an infamous death just at the door, and yet I had
 224

no sense of my condition, no thought of heaven or hell at least, that went

any farther than a bare flying touch, like the stitch or pain that gives a
hint and goes off. I neither had a heart to ask God's mercy, nor indeed to
think of it. And in this, I think, I have given a brief description of the
completest misery on earth.

All my terrifying thoughts were past, the horrors of the place were
become familiar, and I felt no more uneasiness at the noise and clamours
of the prison, than they did who made that noise; in a word, I was
become a mere Newgate-bird, as wicked and as outrageous as any of
them; nay, I scarce retained the habit and custom of good breeding and
manners, which all along till now ran through my conversation; so
thorough a degeneracy had possessed me, that I was no more the same
thing that I had been, than if I had never been otherwise than what I was
now.

In the middle of this hardened part of my life I had another sudden

surprise, which called me back a little to that thing called sorrow, which
indeed I began to be past the sense of before. They told me one night that
there was brought into the prison late the night before three
highwaymen, who had committed robbery somewhere on the road to
Windsor, Hounslow Heath, I think it was, and were pursued to Uxbridge
by the country, and were taken there after a gallant resistance, in which I
know not how many of the country people were wounded, and some
killed.

It is not to be wondered that we prisoners were all desirous enough to

see these brave, topping gentlemen, that were talked up to be such as
their fellows had not been known, and especially because it was said they
would in the morning be removed into the press-yard, having given
money to the head master of the prison, to be allowed the liberty of that
better part of the prison. So we that were women placed ourselves in the
way, that we would be sure to see them; but nothing could express the
amazement and surprise I was in, when the very first man that came out
I knew to be my Lancashire husband, the same who lived so well at
Dunstable, and the same who I afterwards saw at Brickhill, when I was
married to my last husband, as has been related.

I was struck dumb at the sight, and knew neither what to say nor what to
do; he did not know me, and that was all the present relief I had. I
 225

quitted my company, and retired as much as that dreadful place suffers

anybody to retire, and I cried vehemently for a great while. 'Dreadful
creature that I am,' said I, 'how may poor people have I made miserable?
How many desperate wretches have I sent to the devil?' He had told me
at Chester he was ruined by that match, and that his fortunes were made
desperate on my account; for that thinking I had been a fortune, he was
run into debt more than he was able to pay, and that he knew not what
course to take; that he would go into the army and carry a musket, or buy
a horse and take a tour, as he called it; and though I never told him that I
was a fortune, and so did not actually deceive him myself, yet I did
encourage the having it thought that I was so, and by that means I was
the occasion originally of his mischief.

The surprise of the thing only struck deeper into my thoughts, any gave
me stronger reflections than all that had befallen me before. I grieved
day and night for him, and the more for that they told me he was the
captain of the gang, and that he had committed so many robberies, that
Hind, or Whitney, or the Golden Farmer were fools to him; that he
would surely be hanged if there were no more men left in the country he
was born in; and that there would abundance of people come in against
him.

I was overwhelmed with grief for him; my own case gave me no

disturbance compared to this, and I loaded myself with reproaches on
his account. I bewailed his misfortunes, and the ruin he was now come
to, at such a rate, that I relished nothing now as I did before, and the first
reflections I made upon the horrid, detestable life I had lived began to
return upon me, and as these things returned, my abhorrence of the
place I was in, and of the way of living in it, returned also; in a word, I
was perfectly changed, and become another body.

While I was under these influences of sorrow for him, came notice to me
that the next sessions approaching there would be a bill preferred to the
grand jury against me, and that I should be certainly tried for my life at
the Old Bailey. My temper was touched before, the hardened, wretched
boldness of spirit which I had acquired abated, and conscious in the
prison, guilt began to flow in upon my mind. In short, I began to think,
and to think is one real advance from hell to heaven. All that hellish,
hardened state and temper of soul, which I have said so much of before,
 226

is but a deprivation of thought; he that is restored to his power of

thinking, is restored to himself.

As soon as I began, I say, to think, the first think that occurred to me

broke out thus: 'Lord! what will become of me? I shall certainly die! I
shall be cast, to be sure, and there is nothing beyond that but death! I
have no friends; what shall I do? I shall be certainly cast! Lord, have
mercy upon me! What will become of me?' This was a sad thought, you
will say, to be the first, after so long a time, that had started into my soul
of that kind, and yet even this was nothing but fright at what was to
come; there was not a word of sincere repentance in it all. However, I
was indeed dreadfully dejected, and disconsolate to the last degree; and
as I had no friend in the world to communicate my distressed thoughts
to, it lay so heavy upon me, that it threw me into fits and swoonings
several times a day. I sent for my old governess, and she, give her her
due, acted the part of a true friend. She left no stone unturned to prevent
the grand jury finding the bill. She sought out one or two of the jurymen,
talked with them, and endeavoured to possess them with favourable
dispositions, on account that nothing was taken away, and no house
broken, etc.; but all would not do, they were over-ruled by the rest; the
two wenches swore home to the fact, and the jury found the bill against
me for robbery and house-breaking, that is, for felony and burglary.

I sunk down when they brought me news of it, and after I came to myself
again, I thought I should have died with the weight of it. My governess
acted a true mother to me; she pitied me, she cried with me, and for me,
but she could not help me; and to add to the terror of it, 'twas the
discourse all over the house that I should die for it. I could hear them
talk it among themselves very often, and see them shake their heads and
say they were sorry for it, and the like, as is usual in the place. But still
nobody came to tell me their thoughts, till at last one of the keepers came
to me privately, and said with a sigh, 'Well, Mrs. Flanders, you will be
tried on Friday' (this was but a Wednesday); 'what do you intend to do?'
I turned as white as a clout, and said, 'God knows what I shall do; for my
part, I know not what to do.' 'Why,' says he, 'I won't flatter you, I would
have you prepare for death, for I doubt you will be cast; and as they say
you are an old offender, I doubt you will find but little mercy. They say,'
added he, 'your case is very plain, and that the witnesses swear so home
against you, there will be no standing it.'
 227

This was a stab into the very vitals of one under such a burthen as I was
oppressed with before, and I could not speak to him a word, good or bad,
for a great while; but at last I burst out into tears, and said to him, 'Lord!
Mr.----, what must I do?' 'Do!' says he, 'send for the ordinary; send for a
minister and talk with him; for, indeed, Mrs. Flanders, unless you have
very good friends, you are no woman for this world.'

This was plain dealing indeed, but it was very harsh to me, at least I
thought it so. He left me in the greatest confusion imaginable, and all
that night I lay awake. And now I began to say my prayers, which I had
scarce done before since my last husband's death, or from a little while
after. And truly I may well call it saying my prayers, for I was in such a
confusion, and had such horror upon my mind, that though I cried, and
repeated several times the ordinary expression of 'Lord, have mercy
upon me!' I never brought myself to any sense of my being a miserable
sinner, as indeed I was, and of confessing my sins to God, and begging
pardon for the sake of Jesus Christ. I was overwhelmed with the sense of
my condition, being tried for my life, and being sure to be condemned,
and then I was as sure to be executed, and on this account I cried out all
night, 'Lord, what will become of me? Lord! what shall I do? Lord! I shall
be hanged! Lord, have mercy upon me!' and the like.

My poor afflicted governess was now as much concerned as I, and a great

deal more truly penitent, though she had no prospect of being brought to
trial and sentence. Not but that she deserved it as much as I, and so she
said herself; but she had not done anything herself for many years, other
than receiving what I and others stole, and encouraging us to steal it. But
she cried, and took on like a distracted body, wringing her hands, and
crying out that she was undone, that she believed there was a curse from
heaven upon her, that she should be damned, that she had been the
destruction of all her friends, that she had brought such a one, and such
a one, and such a one to the gallows; and there she reckoned up ten or
eleven people, some of which I have given account of, that came to
untimely ends; and that now she was the occasion of my ruin, for she had
persuaded me to go on, when I would have left off. I interrupted her
there. 'No, mother, no,' said I, 'don't speak of that, for you would have
had me left off when I got the mercer's money again, and when I came
home from Harwich, and I would not hearken to you; therefore you have
 228

not been to blame; it is I only have ruined myself, I have brought myself
to this misery'; and thus we spent many hours together.

Well, there was no remedy; the prosecution went on, and on the
Thursday I was carried down to the sessions-house, where I was
arraigned, as they called it, and the next day I was appointed to be tried.
At the arraignment I pleaded 'Not guilty,' and well I might, for I was
indicted for felony and burglary; that is, for feloniously stealing two
pieces of brocaded silk, value #46, the goods of Anthony Johnson, and
for breaking open his doors; whereas I knew very well they could not
pretend to prove I had broken up the doors, or so much as lifted up a
latch.

On the Friday I was brought to my trial. I had exhausted my spirits with

crying for two or three days before, so that I slept better the Thursday
night than I expected, and had more courage for my trial than indeed I
thought possible for me to have.

When the trial began, the indictment was read, I would have spoke, but
they told me the witnesses must be heard first, and then I should have
time to be heard. The witnesses were the two wenches, a couple of hard-
mouthed jades indeed, for though the thing was truth in the main, yet
they aggravated it to the utmost extremity, and swore I had the goods
wholly in my possession, that I had hid them among my clothes, that I
was going off with them, that I had one foot over the threshold when
they discovered themselves, and then I put t' other over, so that I was
quite out of the house in the street with the goods before they took hold
of me, and then they seized me, and brought me back again, and they
took the goods upon me. The fact in general was all true, but I believe,
and insisted upon it, that they stopped me before I had set my foot clear
of the threshold of the house. But that did not argue much, for certain it
was that I had taken the goods, and I was bringing them away, if I had
not been taken.

But I pleaded that I had stole nothing, they had lost nothing, that the
door was open, and I went in, seeing the goods lie there, and with design
to buy. If, seeing nobody in the house, I had taken any of them up in my
hand it could not be concluded that I intended to steal them, for that I
never carried them farther than the door to look on them with the better
light.
 229

The Court would not allow that by any means, and made a kind of a jest
of my intending to buy the goods, that being no shop for the selling of
anything, and as to carrying them to the door to look at them, the maids
made their impudent mocks upon that, and spent their wit upon it very
much; told the Court I had looked at them sufficiently, and approved
them very well, for I had packed them up under my clothes, and was a-
going with them. In short, I was found guilty of felony, but acquitted of
the burglary, which was but small comfort to me, the first bringing me to
a sentence of death, and the last would have done no more. The next day
I was carried down to receive the dreadful sentence, and when they came
to ask me what I had to say why sentence should not pass, I stood mute a
while, but somebody that stood behind me prompted me aloud to speak
to the judges, for that they could represent things favourably for me. This
encouraged me to speak, and I told them I had nothing to say to stop the
sentence, but that I had much to say to bespeak the mercy of the Court;
that I hoped they would allow something in such a case for the
circumstances of it; that I had broken no doors, had carried nothing off;
that nobody had lost anything; that the person whose goods they were
was pleased to say he desired mercy might be shown (which indeed he
very honestly did); that, at the worst, it was the first offence, and that I
had never been before any court of justice before; and, in a word, I spoke
with more courage that I thought I could have done, and in such a
moving tone, and though with tears, yet not so many tears as to obstruct
my speech, that I could see it moved others to tears that heard me.

The judges sat grave and mute, gave me an easy hearing, and time to say
all that I would, but, saying neither Yes nor No to it, pronounced the
sentence of death upon me, a sentence that was to me like death itself,
which, after it was read, confounded me. I had no more spirit left in me, I
had no tongue to speak, or eyes to look up either to God or man.

My poor governess was utterly disconsolate, and she that was my

comforter before, wanted comfort now herself; and sometimes
mourning, sometimes raging, was as much out of herself, as to all
outward appearance, as any mad woman in Bedlam. Nor was she only
disconsolate as to me, but she was struck with horror at the sense of her
own wicked life, and began to look back upon it with a taste quite
different from mine, for she was penitent to the highest degree for her
sins, as well as sorrowful for the misfortune. She sent for a minister, too,
 230

a serious, pious, good man, and applied herself with such earnestness, by
his assistance, to the work of a sincere repentance, that I believe, and so
did the minister too, that she was a true penitent; and, which is still
more, she was not only so for the occasion, and at that juncture, but she
continued so, as I was informed, to the day of her death.

It is rather to be thought of than expressed what was now my condition. I

had nothing before me but present death; and as I had no friends to
assist me, or to stir for me, I expected nothing but to find my name in the
dead warrant, which was to come down for the execution, the Friday
afterwards, of five more and myself.

In the meantime my poor distressed governess sent me a minister, who

at her request first, and at my own afterwards, came to visit me. He
exhorted me seriously to repent of all my sins, and to dally no longer
with my soul; not flattering myself with hopes of life, which, he said, he
was informed there was no room to expect, but unfeignedly to look up to
God with my whole soul, and to cry for pardon in the name of Jesus
Christ. He backed his discourses with proper quotations of Scripture,
encouraging the greatest sinner to repent, and turn from their evil way,
and when he had done, he kneeled down and prayed with me.

It was now that, for the first time, I felt any real signs of repentance. I
now began to look back upon my past life with abhorrence, and having a
kind of view into the other side of time, and things of life, as I believe
they do with everybody at such a time, began to look with a different
aspect, and quite another shape, than they did before. The greatest and
best things, the views of felicity, the joy, the griefs of life, were quite
other things; and I had nothing in my thoughts but what was so infinitely
superior to what I had known in life, that it appeared to me to be the
greatest stupidity in nature to lay any weight upon anything, though the
most valuable in this world.

The word eternity represented itself with all its incomprehensible

additions, and I had such extended notions of it, that I know not how to
express them. Among the rest, how vile, how gross, how absurd did every
pleasant thing look!--I mean, that we had counted pleasant before--
especially when I reflected that these sordid trifles were the things for
which we forfeited eternal felicity.
 231

With these reflections came, of mere course, severe reproaches of my

own mind for my wretched behaviour in my past life; that I had forfeited
all hope of any happiness in the eternity that I was just going to enter
into, and on the contrary was entitled to all that was miserable, or had
been conceived of misery; and all this with the frightful addition of its
being also eternal.

I am not capable of reading lectures of instruction to anybody, but I

relate this in the very manner in which things then appeared to me, as
far as I am able, but infinitely short of the lively impressions which they
made on my soul at that time; indeed, those impressions are not to be
explained by words, or if they are, I am not mistress of words enough to
express them. It must be the work of every sober reader to make just
reflections on them, as their own circumstances may direct; and, without
question, this is what every one at some time or other may feel
something of; I mean, a clearer sight into things to come than they had
here, and a dark view of their own concern in them.

But I go back to my own case. The minister pressed me to tell him, as far
as I though convenient, in what state I found myself as to the sight I had
of things beyond life. He told me he did not come as ordinary of the
place, whose business it is to extort confessions from prisoners, for
private ends, or for the further detecting of other offenders; that his
business was to move me to such freedom of discourse as might serve to
disburthen my own mind, and furnish him to administer comfort to me
as far as was in his power; and assured me, that whatever I said to him
should remain with him, and be as much a secret as if it was known only
to God and myself; and that he desired to know nothing of me, but as
above to qualify him to apply proper advice and assistance to me, and to
pray to God for me.

This honest, friendly way of treating me unlocked all the sluices of my

passions. He broke into my very soul by it; and I unravelled all the
wickedness of my life to him. In a word, I gave him an abridgment of this
whole history; I gave him a picture of my conduct for fifty years in
miniature.

I hid nothing from him, and he in return exhorted me to sincere

repentance, explained to me what he meant by repentance, and then
drew out such a scheme of infinite mercy, proclaimed from heaven to
 232

sinners of the greatest magnitude, that he left me nothing to say, that

looked like despair, or doubting of being accepted; and in this condition
he left me the first night.

He visited me again the next morning, and went on with his method of
explaining the terms of divine mercy, which according to him consisted
of nothing more, or more difficult, than that of being sincerely desirous
of it, and willing to accept it; only a sincere regret for, and hatred of,
those things I had done, which rendered me so just an object of divine
vengeance. I am not able to repeat the excellent discourses of this
extraordinary man; 'tis all that I am able to do, to say that he revived my
heart, and brought me into such a condition that I never knew anything
of in my life before. I was covered with shame and tears for things past,
and yet had at the same time a secret surprising joy at the prospect of
being a true penitent, and obtaining the comfort of a penitent--I mean,
the hope of being forgiven; and so swift did thoughts circulate, and so
high did the impressions they had made upon me run, that I thought I
could freely have gone out that minute to execution, without any
uneasiness at all, casting my soul entirely into the arms of infinite mercy
as a penitent.

The good gentleman was so moved also in my behalf with a view of the
influence which he saw these things had on me, that he blessed God he
had come to visit me, and resolved not to leave me till the last moment;
that is, not to leave visiting me.

It was no less than twelve days after our receiving sentence before any
were ordered for execution, and then upon a Wednesday the dead
warrant, as they call it, came down, and I found my name was among
them. A terrible blow this was to my new resolutions; indeed my heart
sank within me, and I swooned away twice, one after another, but spoke
not a word. The good minister was sorely afflicted for me, and did what
he could to comfort me with the same arguments, and the same moving
eloquence that he did before, and left me not that evening so long as the
prisonkeepers would suffer him to stay in the prison, unless he would be
locked up with me all night, which he was not willing to be.

I wondered much that I did not see him all the next day, it being the day
before the time appointed for execution; and I was greatly discouraged,
and dejected in my mind, and indeed almost sank for want of the
 233

comfort which he had so often, and with such success, yielded me on his
former visits. I waited with great impatience, and under the greatest
oppressions of spirits imaginable, till about four o'clock he came to my
apartment; for I had obtained the favour, by the help of money, nothing
being to be done in that place without it, not to be kept in the
condemned hole, as they call it, among the rest of the prisoners who
were to die, but to have a little dirty chamber to myself.

My heart leaped within me for joy when I heard his voice at the door,
even before I saw him; but let any one judge what kind of motion I found
in my soul, when after having made a short excuse for his not coming, he
showed me that his time had been employed on my account; that he had
obtained a favourable report from the Recorder to the Secretary of State
in my particular case, and, in short, that he had brought me a reprieve.

He used all the caution that he was able in letting me know a thing which
it would have been a double cruelty to have concealed; and yet it was too
much for me; for as grief had overset me before, so did joy overset me
now, and I fell into a much more dangerous swooning than I did at first,
and it was not without a great difficulty that I was recovered at all.

The good man having made a very Christian exhortation to me, not to let
the joy of my reprieve put the remembrance of my past sorrow out of my
mind, and having told me that he must leave me, to go and enter the
reprieve in the books, and show it to the sheriffs, stood up just before his
going away, and in a very earnest manner prayed to God for me, that my
repentance might be made unfeigned and sincere; and that my coming
back, as it were, into life again, might not be a returning to the follies of
life which I had made such solemn resolutions to forsake, and to repent
of them. I joined heartily in the petition, and must needs say I had
deeper impressions upon my mind all that night, of the mercy of God in
sparing my life, and a greater detestation of my past sins, from a sense of
the goodness which I had tasted in this case, than I had in all my sorrow
before.

This may be thought inconsistent in itself, and wide from the business of
this book; particularly, I reflect that many of those who may be pleased
and diverted with the relation of the wild and wicked part of my story
may not relish this, which is really the best part of my life, the most
advantageous to myself, and the most instructive to others. Such,
 234

however, will, I hope, allow me the liberty to make my story complete. It

would be a severe satire on such to say they do not relish the repentance
as much as they do the crime; and that they had rather the history were a
complete tragedy, as it was very likely to have been.

But I go on with my relation. The next morning there was a sad scene
indeed in the prison. The first thing I was saluted with in the morning
was the tolling of the great bell at St. Sepulchre's, as they call it, which
ushered in the day. As soon as it began to toll, a dismal groaning and
crying was heard from the condemned hole, where there lay six poor
souls who were to be executed that day, some from one crime, some for
another, and two of them for murder.

This was followed by a confused clamour in the house, among the several
sorts of prisoners, expressing their awkward sorrows for the poor
creatures that were to die, but in a manner extremely differing one from
another. Some cried for them; some huzzaed, and wished them a good
journey; some damned and cursed those that had brought them to it--
that is, meaning the evidence, or prosecutors--many pitying them, and
some few, but very few, praying for them.

There was hardly room for so much composure of mind as was required
for me to bless the merciful Providence that had, as it were, snatched me
out of the jaws of this destruction. I remained, as it were, dumb and
silent, overcome with the sense of it, and not able to express what I had
in my heart; for the passions on such occasions as these are certainly so
agitated as not to be able presently to regulate their own motions.

All the while the poor condemned creatures were preparing to their
death, and the ordinary, as they call him, was busy with them, disposing
them to submit to their sentence--I say, all this while I was seized with a
fit of trembling, as much as I could have been if I had been in the same
condition, as to be sure the day before I expected to be; I was so violently
agitated by this surprising fit, that I shook as if it had been in the cold fit
of an ague, so that I could not speak or look but like one distracted. As
soon as they were all put into carts and gone, which, however, I had not
courage enough to see--I say, as soon as they were gone, I fell into a fit of
crying involuntarily, and without design, but as a mere distemper, and
yet so violent, and it held me so long, that I knew not what course to
 235

take, nor could I stop, or put a check to it, no, not with all the strength
and courage I had.

This fit of crying held me near two hours, and, as I believe, held me till
they were all out of the world, and then a most humble, penitent, serious
kind of joy succeeded; a real transport it was, or passion of joy and
thankfulness, but still unable to give vent to it by words, and in this I
continued most part of the day.

In the evening the good minister visited me again, and then fell to his
usual good discourses. He congratulated my having a space yet allowed
me for repentance, whereas the state of those six poor creatures was
determined, and they were now past the offers of salvation; he earnestly
pressed me to retain the same sentiments of the things of life that I had
when I had a view of eternity; and at the end of all told me I should not
conclude that all was over, that a reprieve was not a pardon, that he
could not yet answer for the effects of it; however, I had this mercy, that I
had more time given me, and that it was my business to improve that
time.

This discourse, though very seasonable, left a kind of sadness on my

heart, as if I might expect the affair would have a tragical issue still,
which, however, he had no certainty of; and I did not indeed, at that
time, question him about it, he having said that he would do his utmost
to bring it to a good end, and that he hoped he might, but he would not
have me be secure; and the consequence proved that he had reason for
what he said.

It was about a fortnight after this that I had some just apprehensions
that I should be included in the next dead warrant at the ensuing
sessions; and it was not without great difficulty, and at last a humble
petition for transportation, that I avoided it, so ill was I beholding to
fame, and so prevailing was the fatal report of being an old offender;
though in that they did not do me strict justice, for I was not in the sense
of the law an old offender, whatever I was in the eye of the judge, for I
had never been before them in a judicial way before; so the judges could
not charge me with being an old offender, but the Recorder was pleased
to represent my case as he thought fit.
 236

I had now a certainty of life indeed, but with the hard conditions of being
ordered for transportation, which indeed was hard condition in itself,
but not when comparatively considered; and therefore I shall make no
comments upon the sentence, nor upon the choice I was put to. We shall
all choose anything rather than death, especially when 'tis attended with
an uncomfortable prospect beyond it, which was my case.

The good minister, whose interest, though a stranger to me, had

obtained me the reprieve, mourned sincerely for this part. He was in
hopes, he said, that I should have ended my days under the influence of
good instruction, that I should not have been turned loose again among
such a wretched crew as they generally are, who are thus sent abroad,
where, as he said, I must have more than ordinary secret assistance from
the grace of God, if I did not turn as wicked again as ever.

I have not for a good while mentioned my governess, who had during
most, if not all, of this part been dangerously sick, and being in as near a
view of death by her disease as I was by my sentence, was a great
penitent--I say, I have not mentioned her, nor indeed did I see her in all
this time; but being now recovering, and just able to come abroad, she
came to see me.

I told her my condition, and what a different flux and reflux of tears and
hopes I had been agitated with; I told her what I had escaped, and upon
what terms; and she was present when the minister expressed his fears
of my relapsing into wickedness upon my falling into the wretched
companies that are generally transported. Indeed I had a melancholy
reflection upon it in my own mind, for I knew what a dreadful gang was
always sent away together, and I said to my governess that the good
minister's fears were not without cause. 'Well, well,' says she, 'but I hope
you will not be tempted with such a horrid example as that.' And as soon
as the minister was gone, she told me she would not have me
discouraged, for perhaps ways and means might be found out to dispose
of me in a particular way, by myself, of which she would talk further to
me afterward.

I looked earnestly at her, and I thought she looked more cheerful than
she usually had done, and I entertained immediately a thousand notions
of being delivered, but could not for my life image the methods, or think
of one that was in the least feasible; but I was too much concerned in it
 237

to let her go from me without explaining herself, which, though she was
very loth to do, yet my importunity prevailed, and, while I was still
pressing, she answered me in a few words, thus: 'Why, you have money,
have you not? Did you ever know one in your life that was transported
and had a hundred pounds in his pocket, I'll warrant you, child?' says
she.

I understood her presently, but told her I would leave all that to her, but
I saw no room to hope for anything but a strict execution of the order,
and as it was a severity that was esteemed a mercy, there was no doubt
but it would be strictly observed. She said no more but this: 'We will try
what can be done,' and so we parted for that night.

I lay in the prison near fifteen weeks after this order for transportation
was signed. What the reason of it was, I know not, but at the end of this
time I was put on board of a ship in the Thames, and with me a gang of
thirteen as hardened vile creatures as ever Newgate produced in my
time; and it would really well take up a history longer than mine to
describe the degrees of impudence and audacious villainy that those
thirteen were arrived to, and the manner of their behaviour in the
voyage; of which I have a very diverting account by me, which the
captain of the ship who carried them over gave me the minutes of, and
which he caused his mate to write down at large.

It may perhaps be thought trifling to enter here into a relation of all the
little incidents which attended me in this interval of my circumstances; I
mean, between the final order of my transportation and the time of my
going on board the ship; and I am too near the end of my story to allow
room for it; but something relating to me and my Lancashire husband I
must not omit.

He had, as I have observed already, been carried from the master's side
of the ordinary prison into the press-yard, with three of his comrades, for
they found another to add to them after some time; here, for what reason
I knew not, they were kept in custody without being brought to trial
almost three months. It seems they found means to bribe or buy off some
of those who were expected to come in against them, and they wanted
evidence for some time to convict them. After some puzzle on this
account, at first they made a shift to get proof enough against two of
them to carry them off; but the other two, of which my Lancashire
 238

husband was one, lay still in suspense. They had, I think, one positive
evidence against each of them, but the law strictly obliging them to have
two witnesses, they could make nothing of it. Yet it seems they were
resolved not to part with the men neither, not doubting but a further
evidence would at last come in; and in order to this, I think publication
was made, that such prisoners being taken, any one that had been
robbed by them might come to the prison and see them.

I took this opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, pretending that I had been

robbed in the Dunstable coach, and that I would go to see the two
highwaymen. But when I came into the press-yard, I so disguised myself,
and muffled my face up so, that he could see little of me, and
consequently knew nothing of who I was; and when I came back, I said
publicly that I knew them very well.

Immediately it was rumoured all over the prison that Moll Flanders
would turn evidence against one of the highwaymen, and that I was to
come off by it from the sentence of transportation.

They heard of it, and immediately my husband desired to see this Mrs.
Flanders that knew him so well, and was to be an evidence against him;
and accordingly I had leave given to go to him. I dressed myself up as
well as the best clothes that I suffered myself ever to appear in there
would allow me, and went to the press-yard, but had for some time a
hood over my face. He said little to me at first, but asked me if I knew
him. I told him, Yes, very well; but as I concealed my face, so I
counterfeited my voice, that he had not the least guess at who I was. He
asked me where I had seen him. I told him between Dunstable and
Brickhill; but turning to the keeper that stood by, I asked if I might not
be admitted to talk with him alone. He said Yes, yes, as much as I
pleased, and so very civilly withdrew.

As soon as he was gone, I had shut the door, I threw off my hood, and
bursting out into tears, 'My dear,' says I, 'do you not know me?' He
turned pale, and stood speechless, like one thunderstruck, and, not able
to conquer the surprise, said no more but this, 'Let me sit down'; and
sitting down by a table, he laid his elbow upon the table, and leaning his
head on his hand, fixed his eyes on the ground as one stupid. I cried so
vehemently, on the other hand, that it was a good while ere I could speak
any more; but after I had given some vent to my passion by tears, I
 239

repeated the same words, 'My dear, do you not know me?' At which he
answered, Yes, and said no more a good while.

After some time continuing in the surprise, as above, he cast up his eyes
towards me and said, 'How could you be so cruel?' I did not readily
understand what he meant; and I answered, 'How can you call me cruel?
What have I been cruel to you in?' 'To come to me,' says he, 'in such a
place as this, is it not to insult me? I have not robbed you, at least not on
the highway.'

I perceived by this that he knew nothing of the miserable circumstances I

was in, and thought that, having got some intelligence of his being there,
I had come to upbraid him with his leaving me. But I had too much to
say to him to be affronted, and told him in few words, that I was far from
coming to insult him, but at best I came to condole mutually; that he
would be easily satisfied that I had no such view, when I should tell him
that my condition was worse than his, and that many ways. He looked a
little concerned at the general expression of my condition being worse
than his, but, with a kind smile, looked a little wildly, and said, 'How can
that be? When you see me fettered, and in Newgate, and two of my
companions executed already, can you can your condition is worse than
mine?'

'Come, my dear,' says I, 'we have along piece of work to do, if I should be
to related, or you to hear, my unfortunate history; but if you are disposed
to hear it, you will soon conclude with me that my condition is worse
than yours.' 'How is that possible,' says he again, 'when I expect to be
cast for my life the very next sessions?' 'Yes, says I, ''tis very possible,
when I shall tell you that I have been cast for my life three sessions ago,
and am under sentence of death; is not my case worse than yours?'

Then indeed, he stood silent again, like one struck dumb, and after a
while he starts up. 'Unhappy couple!' says he. 'How can this be possible?'
I took him by the hand. 'Come, my dear,' said I, 'sit down, and let us
compare our sorrows. I am a prisoner in this very house, and in much
worse circumstances than you, and you will be satisfied I do not come to
insult you, when I tell you the particulars.' Any with this we sat down
together, and I told him so much of my story as I thought was
convenient, bringing it at last to my being reduced to great poverty, and
representing myself as fallen into some company that led me to relieve
 240

my distresses by way that I had been utterly unacquainted with, and that
they making an attempt at a tradesman's house, I was seized upon for
having been but just at the door, the maid-servant pulling me in; that I
neither had broke any lock nor taken anything away, and that
notwithstanding that, I was brought in guilty and sentenced to die; but
that the judges, having been made sensible of the hardship of my
circumstances, had obtained leave to remit the sentence upon my
consenting to be transported.

I told him I fared the worse for being taken in the prison for one Moll
Flanders, who was a famous successful thief, that all of them had heard
of, but none of them had ever seen; but that, as he knew well, was none
of my name. But I placed all to the account of my ill fortune, and that
under this name I was dealt with as an old offender, though this was the
first thing they had ever known of me. I gave him a long particular of
things that had befallen me since I saw him, but I told him if I had seen
him since he might thing I had, and then gave him an account how I had
seen him at Brickhill; how furiously he was pursued, and how, by giving
an account that I knew him, and that he was a very honest gentleman,
one Mr.----, the hue-and-cry was stopped, and the high constable went
back again.

He listened most attentively to all my story, and smiled at most of the

particulars, being all of them petty matters, and infinitely below what he
had been at the head of; but when I came to the story of Brickhill, he was
surprised. 'And was it you, my dear,' said he, 'that gave the check to the
mob that was at our heels there, at Brickhill?' 'Yes,' said I, 'it was I
indeed.' And then I told him the particulars which I had observed him
there. 'Why, then,' said he, 'it was you that saved my life at that time, and
I am glad I owe my life to you, for I will pay the debt to you now, and I'll
deliver you from the present condition you are in, or I will die in the
attempt.'

I told him, by no means; it was a risk too great, not worth his running the
hazard of, and for a life not worth his saving. 'Twas no matter for that, he
said, it was a life worth all the world to him; a life that had given him a
new life; 'for,' says he, 'I was never in real danger of being taken, but that
time, till the last minute when I was taken.' Indeed, he told me his
danger then lay in his believing he had not been pursued that way; for
 241

they had gone from Hockey quite another way, and had come over the
enclosed country into Brickhill, not by the road, and were sure they had
not been seen by anybody.

Here he gave me a long history of his life, which indeed would make a
very strange history, and be infinitely diverting. He told me he took to
the road about twelve years before he married me; that the woman which
called him brother was not really his sister, or any kin to him, but one
that belonged to their gang, and who, keeping correspondence with him,
lived always in town, having good store of acquaintance; that she gave
them a perfect intelligence of persons going out of town, and that they
had made several good booties by her correspondence; that she thought
she had fixed a fortune for him when she brought me to him, but
happened to be disappointed, which he really could not blame her for;
that if it had been his good luck that I had had the estate, which she was
informed I had, he had resolved to leave off the road and live a retired,
sober live but never to appear in public till some general pardon had
been passed, or till he could, for money, have got his name into some
particular pardon, that so he might have been perfectly easy; but that, as
it had proved otherwise, he was obliged to put off his equipage and take
up the old trade again.

He gave me a long account of some of his adventures, and particularly

one when he robbed the West Chester coaches near Lichfield, when he
got a very great booty; and after that, how he robbed five graziers, in the
west, going to Burford Fair in Wiltshire to buy sheep. He told me he got
so much money on those two occasions, that if he had known where to
have found me, he would certainly have embraced my proposal of going
with me to Virginia, or to have settled in a plantation on some other
parts of the English colonies in America.

He told me he wrote two or three letters to me, directed according to my

order, but heard nothing from me. This I indeed knew to be true, but the
letters coming to my hand in the time of my latter husband, I could do
nothing in it, and therefore chose to give no answer, that so he might
rather believe they had miscarried.

Being thus disappointed, he said, he carried on the old trade ever since,
though when he had gotten so much money, he said, he did not run such
desperate risks as he did before. Then he gave me some account of
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several hard and desperate encounters which he had with gentlemen on

the road, who parted too hardly with their money, and showed me some
wounds he had received; and he had one or two very terrible wounds
indeed, as particularly one by a pistol bullet, which broke his arm, and
another with a sword, which ran him quite through the body, but that
missing his vitals, he was cured again; one of his comrades having kept
with him so faithfully, and so friendly, as that he assisted him in riding
near eighty miles before his arm was set, and then got a surgeon in a
considerable city, remote from that place where it was done, pretending
they were gentlemen travelling towards Carlisle and that they had been
attacked on the road by highwaymen, and that one of them had shot him
into the arm and broke the bone.

This, he said, his friend managed so well, that they were not suspected at
all, but lay still till he was perfectly cured. He gave me so many distinct
accounts of his adventures, that it is with great reluctance that I decline
the relating them; but I consider that this is my own story, not his.

I then inquired into the circumstances of his present case at that time,
and what it was he expected when he came to be tried. He told me that
they had no evidence against him, or but very little; for that of three
robberies, which they were all charged with, it was his good fortune that
he was but in one of them, and that there was but one witness to be had
for that fact, which was not sufficient, but that it was expected some
others would come in against him; that he thought indeed, when he first
saw me, that I had been one that came of that errand; but that if
somebody came in against him, he hoped he should be cleared; that he
had had some intimation, that if he would submit to transport himself,
he might be admitted to it without a trial, but that he could not think of it
with any temper, and thought he could much easier submit to be hanged.

I blamed him for that, and told him I blamed him on two accounts; first,
because if he was transported, there might be a hundred ways for him
that was a gentleman, and a bold enterprising man, to find his way back
again, and perhaps some ways and means to come back before he went.
He smiled at that part, and said he should like the last the best of the
two, for he had a kind of horror upon his mind at his being sent over to
the plantations, as Romans sent condemned slaves to work in the mines;
that he thought the passage into another state, let it be what it would,
 243

much more tolerable at the gallows, and that this was the general notion
of all the gentlemen who were driven by the exigence of their fortunes to
take the road; that at the place of execution there was at least an end of
all the miseries of the present state, and as for what was to follow, a man
was, in his opinion, as likely to repent sincerely in the last fortnight of his
life, under the pressures and agonies of a jail and the condemned hole, as
he would ever be in the woods and wilderness of America; that servitude
and hard labour were things gentlemen could never stoop to; that it was
but the way to force them to be their own executioners afterwards, which
was much worse; and that therefore he could not have any patience when
he did but think of being transported.

I used the utmost of my endeavour to persuade him, and joined that

known woman's rhetoric to it--I mean, that of tears. I told him the
infamy of a public execution was certainly a greater pressure upon the
spirits of a gentleman than any of the mortifications that he could meet
with abroad could be; that he had at least in the other a chance for his
life, whereas here he had none at all; that it was the easiest thing in the
world for him to manage the captain of a ship, who were, generally
speaking, men of good-humour and some gallantry; and a small matter
of conduct, especially if there was any money to be had, would make way
for him to buy himself off when he came to Virginia.

He looked wistfully at me, and I thought I guessed at what he meant,

that is to say, that he had no money; but I was mistaken, his meaning
was another way. 'You hinted just now, my dear,' said he, 'that there
might be a way of coming back before I went, by which I understood you
that it might be possible to buy it off here. I had rather give #200 to
prevent going, than #100 to be set at liberty when I came there.' 'That is,
my dear,' said I, 'because you do not know the place so well as I do.' 'That
may be,' said he; 'and yet I believe, as well as you know it, you would do
the same, unless it is because, as you told me, you have a mother there.'

I told him, as to my mother, it was next to impossible but that she must
be dead many years before; and as for any other relations that I might
have there, I knew them not now; that since the misfortunes I had been
under had reduced me to the condition I had been in for some years, I
had not kept up any correspondence with them; and that he would easily
believe, I should find but a cold reception from them if I should be put to
 244

make my first visit in the condition of a transported felon; that therefore,

if I went thither, I resolved not to see them; but that I had many views in
going there, if it should be my fate, which took off all the uneasy part of
it; and if he found himself obliged to go also, I should easily instruct him
how to manage himself, so as never to go a servant at all, especially since
I found he was not destitute of money, which was the only friend in such
a condition.

He smiled, and said he did not tell me he had money. I took him up
short, and told him I hoped he did not understand by my speaking, that I
should expect any supply from him if he had money; that, on the other
hand, though I had not a great deal, yet I did not want, and while I had
any I would rather add to him than weaken him in that article, seeing,
whatever he had, I knew in the case of transportation he would have
occasion of it all.

He expressed himself in a most tender manner upon that head. He told

me what money he had was not a great deal, but that he would never
hide any of it from me if I wanted it, and that he assured me he did not
speak with any such apprehensions; that he was only intent upon what I
had hinted to him before he went; that here he knew what to do with
himself, but that there he should be the most ignorant, helpless wretch
alive.

I told him he frighted and terrified himself with that which had no terror
in it; that if he had money, as I was glad to hear he had, he might not
only avoid the servitude supposed to be the consequence of
transportation, but begin the world upon a new foundation, and that
such a one as he could not fail of success in, with the common
application usual in such cases; that he could not but call to mind that is
was what I had recommended to him many years before and had
proposed it for our mutual subsistence and restoring our fortunes in the
world; and I would tell him now, that to convince him both of the
certainty of it and of my being fully acquainted with the method, and also
fully satisfied in the probability of success, he should first see me deliver
myself from the necessity of going over at all, and then that I would go
with him freely, and of my own choice, and perhaps carry enough with
me to satisfy him that I did not offer it for want of being able to live
without assistance from him, but that I thought our mutual misfortunes
 245

had been such as were sufficient to reconcile us both to quitting this part
of the world, and living where nobody could upbraid us with what was
past, or we be in any dread of a prison, and without agonies of a
condemned hole to drive us to it; this where we should look back on all
our past disasters with infinite satisfaction, when we should consider
that our enemies should entirely forget us, and that we should live as
new people in a new world, nobody having anything to say to us, or we to
them.

I pressed this home to him with so many arguments, and answered all
his own passionate objections so effectually that he embraced me, and
told me I treated him with such sincerity and affection as overcame him;
that he would take my advice, and would strive to submit to his fate in
hope of having the comfort of my assistance, and of so faithful a
counsellor and such a companion in his misery. But still he put me in
mind of what I had mentioned before, namely, that there might be some
way to get off before he went, and that it might be possible to avoid going
at all, which he said would be much better. I told him he should see, and
be fully satisfied, that I would do my utmost in that part too, and if it did
not succeed, yet that I would make good the rest.

We parted after this long conference with such testimonies of kindness

and affection as I thought were equal, if not superior, to that at our
parting at Dunstable; and now I saw more plainly than before, the reason
why he declined coming at that time any farther with me toward London
than Dunstable, and why, when we parted there, he told me it was not
convenient for him to come part of the way to London to bring me going,
as he would otherwise have done. I have observed that the account of his
life would have made a much more pleasing history than this of mine;
and, indeed, nothing in it was more strange than this part, viz. that he
carried on that desperate trade full five-and-twenty years and had never
been taken, the success he had met with had been so very uncommon,
and such that sometimes he had lived handsomely, and retired in place
for a year or two at a time, keeping himself and a man-servant to wait on
him, and had often sat in the coffee-houses and heard the very people
whom he had robbed give accounts of their being robbed, and of the
place and circumstances, so that he could easily remember that it was
the same.
 246

In this manner, it seems, he lived near Liverpool at the time he unluckily

married me for a fortune. Had I been the fortune he expected, I verily
believe, as he said, that he would have taken up and lived honestly all his
days.

He had with the rest of his misfortunes the good luck not to be actually
upon the spot when the robbery was done which he was committed for,
and so none of the persons robbed could swear to him, or had anything
to charge upon him. But it seems as he was taken with the gang, one
hard-mouthed countryman swore home to him, and they were like to
have others come in according to the publication they had made; so that
they expected more evidence against him, and for that reason he was
kept in hold.

However, the offer which was made to him of admitting him to

transportation was made, as I understood, upon the intercession of some
great person who pressed him hard to accept of it before a trial; and
indeed, as he knew there were several that might come in against him, I
thought his friend was in the right, and I lay at him night and day to
delay it no longer.

At last, with much difficulty, he gave his consent; and as he was not
therefore admitted to transportation in court, and on his petition, as I
was, so he found himself under a difficulty to avoid embarking himself as
I had said he might have done; his great friend, who was his intercessor
for the favour of that grant, having given security for him that he should
transport himself, and not return within the term.
 247

CHAPTER 12

This hardship broke all my measures, for the steps I took afterwards for
my own deliverance were hereby rendered wholly ineffectual, unless I
would abandon him, and leave him to go to America by himself; than
which he protested he would much rather venture, although he were
certain to go directly to the gallows.

I must now return to my case. The time of my being transported

according to my sentence was near at hand; my governess, who
continued my fast friend, had tried to obtain a pardon, but it could not
be done unless with an expense too heavy for my purse, considering that
to be left naked and empty, unless I had resolved to return to my old
trade again, had been worse than my transportation, because there I
knew I could live, here I could not. The good minister stood very hard on
another account to prevent my being transported also; but he was
answered, that indeed my life had been given me at his first solicitations,
and therefore he ought to ask no more. He was sensibly grieved at my
going, because, as he said, he feared I should lose the good impressions
which a prospect of death had at first made on me, and which were since
increased by his instructions; and the pious gentleman was exceedingly
concerned about me on that account.

On the other hand, I really was not so solicitous about it as I was before,
but I industriously concealed my reasons for it from the minister, and to
the last he did not know but that I went with the utmost reluctance and
affliction.

It was in the month of February that I was, with seven other convicts, as
they called us, delivered to a merchant that traded to Virginia, on board a
ship, riding, as they called it, in Deptford Reach. The officer of the prison
delivered us on board, and the master of the vessel gave a discharge for
us.

We were for that night clapped under hatches, and kept so close that I
thought I should have been suffocated for want of air; and the next
morning the ship weighed, and fell down the river to a place they call
Bugby's Hole, which was done, as they told us, by the agreement of the
 248

merchant, that all opportunity of escape should be taken from us.

However, when the ship came thither and cast anchor, we were allowed
more liberty, and particularly were permitted to come up on the deck,
but not up on the quarter-deck, that being kept particularly for the
captain and for passengers.

When by the noise of the men over my head, and the motion of the ship,
I perceived that they were under sail, I was at first greatly surprised,
fearing we should go away directly, and that our friends would not be
admitted to see us any more; but I was easy soon after, when I found
they had come to an anchor again, and soon after that we had notice
given by some of the men where we were, that the next morning we
should have the liberty to come up on deck, and to have our friends come
and see us if we had any.

All that night I lay upon the hard boards of the deck, as the passengers
did, but we had afterwards the liberty of little cabins for such of us as had
any bedding to lay in them, and room to stow any box or trunk for
clothes and linen, if we had it (which might well be put in), for some of
them had neither shirt nor shift or a rag of linen or woollen, but what
was on their backs, or a farthing of money to help themselves; and yet I
did not find but they fared well enough in the ship, especially the women,
who got money from the seamen for washing their clothes, sufficient to
purchase any common things that they wanted.

When the next morning we had the liberty to come up on the deck, I
asked one of the officers of the ship, whether I might not have the liberty
to send a letter on shore, to let my friends know where the ship lay, and
to get some necessary things sent to me. This was, it seems, the
boatswain, a very civil, courteous sort of man, who told me I should have
that, or any other liberty that I desired, that he could allow me with
safety. I told him I desired no other; and he answered that the ship's boat
would go up to London the next tide, and he would order my letter to be
carried.

Accordingly, when the boat went off, the boatswain came to me and told
me the boat was going off, and that he went in it himself, and asked me if
my letter was ready he would take care of it. I had prepared myself, you
may be sure, pen, ink, and paper beforehand, and I had gotten a letter
ready directed to my governess, and enclosed another for my fellow-
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prisoner, which, however, I did not let her know was my husband, not to
the last. In that to my governess, I let her know where the ship lay, and
pressed her earnestly to send me what things I knew she had got ready
for me for my voyage.

When I gave the boatswain the letter, I gave him a shilling with it, which
I told him was for the charge of a messenger or porter, which I entreated
him to send with the letter as soon as he came on shore, that if possible I
might have an answer brought back by the same hand, that I might know
what was become of my things; 'for sir,' says I, 'if the ship should go away
before I have them on board, I am undone.'

I took care, when I gave him the shilling, to let him see that I had a little
better furniture about me than the ordinary prisoners, for he saw that I
had a purse, and in it a pretty deal of money; and I found that the very
sight of it immediately furnished me with very different treatment from
what I should otherwise have met with in the ship; for though he was
very courteous indeed before, in a kind of natural compassion to me, as a
woman in distress, yet he was more than ordinarily so afterwards, and
procured me to be better treated in the ship than, I say, I might
otherwise have been; as shall appear in its place.

He very honestly had my letter delivered to my governess's own hands,

and brought me back an answer from her in writing; and when he gave
me the answer, gave me the shilling again. 'There,' says he, 'there's your
shilling again too, for I delivered the letter myself.' I could not tell what
to say, I was so surprised at the thing; but after some pause, I said, 'Sir,
you are too kind; it had been but reasonable that you had paid yourself
coach-hire, then.'

'No, no,' says he, 'I am overpaid. What is the gentlewoman? Your sister.'

'No, sir,' says I, 'she is no relation to me, but she is a dear friend, and all
the friends I have in the world.' 'Well,' says he, 'there are few such friends
in the world. Why, she cried after you like a child,' 'Ay,' says I again, 'she
would give a hundred pounds, I believe, to deliver me from this dreadful
condition I am in.'

'Would she so?' says he. 'For half the money I believe I could put you in a
way how to deliver yourself.' But this he spoke softly, that nobody could
hear.
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'Alas! sir,' said I, 'but then that must be such a deliverance as, if I should
be taken again, would cost me my life.' 'Nay,' said he, 'if you were once
out of the ship, you must look to yourself afterwards; that I can say
nothing to.' So we dropped the discourse for that time.

In the meantime, my governess, faithful to the last moment, conveyed

my letter to the prison to my husband, and got an answer to it, and the
next day came down herself to the ship, bringing me, in the first place, a
sea-bed as they call it, and all its furniture, such as was convenient, but
not to let the people think it was extraordinary. She brought with her a
sea-chest--that is, a chest, such as are made for seamen, with all the
conveniences in it, and filled with everything almost that I could want;
and in one of the corners of the chest, where there was a private drawer,
was my bank of money--this is to say, so much of it as I had resolved to
carry with me; for I ordered a part of my stock to be left behind me, to be
sent afterwards in such goods as I should want when I came to settle; for
money in that country is not of much use where all things are brought for
tobacco, much more is it a great loss to carry it from hence.

But my case was particular; it was by no means proper to me to go

thither without money or goods, and for a poor convict, that was to be
sold as soon as I came on shore, to carry with me a cargo of goods would
be to have notice taken of it, and perhaps to have them seized by the
public; so I took part of my stock with me thus, and left the other part
with my governess.

My governess brought me a great many other things, but it was not

proper for me to look too well provided in the ship, at least till I knew
what kind of a captain we should have. When she came into the ship, I
thought she would have died indeed; her heart sank at the sight of me,
and at the thoughts of parting with me in that condition, and she cried so
intolerably, I could not for a long time have any talk with her.

I took that time to read my fellow-prisoner's letter, which, however,

greatly perplexed me. He told me was determined to go, but found it
would be impossible for him to be discharged time enough for going in
the same ship, and which was more than all, he began to question
whether they would give him leave to go in what ship he pleased, though
he did voluntarily transport himself; but that they would see him put on
board such a ship as they should direct, and that he would be charged
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upon the captain as other convict prisoners were; so that he began to be

in despair of seeing me till he came to Virginia, which made him almost
desperate; seeing that, on the other hand, if I should not be there, if any
accident of the sea or of mortality should take me away, he should be the
most undone creature there in the world.

This was very perplexing, and I knew not what course to take. I told my
governess the story of the boatswain, and she was mighty eager with me
treat with him; but I had no mind to it, till I heard whether my husband,
or fellow-prisoner, so she called him, could be at liberty to go with me or
no. At last I was forced to let her into the whole matter, except only that
of his being my husband. I told her I had made a positive bargain or
agreement with him to go, if he could get the liberty of going in the same
ship, and that I found he had money.

Then I read a long lecture to her of what I proposed to do when we came

there, how we could plant, settle, and, in short, grow rich without any
more adventures; and, as a great secret, I told her that we were to marry
as soon as he came on board.

She soon agreed cheerfully to my going when she heard this, and she
made it her business from that time to get him out of the prison in time,
so that he might go in the same ship with me, which at last was brought
to pass, though with great difficulty, and not without all the forms of a
transported prisoner-convict, which he really was not yet, for he had not
been tried, and which was a great mortification to him. As our fate was
now determined, and we were both on board, actually bound to Virginia,
in the despicable quality of transported convicts destined to be sold for
slaves, I for five years, and he under bonds and security not to return to
England any more, as long as he lived, he was very much dejected and
cast down; the mortification of being brought on board, as he was, like a
prisoner, piqued him very much, since it was first told him he should
transport himself, and so that he might go as a gentleman at liberty. It is
true he was not ordered to be sold when he came there, as we were, and
for that reason he was obliged to pay for his passage to the captain,
which we were not; as to the rest, he was as much at a loss as a child
what to do with himself, or with what he had, but by directions.

Our first business was to compare our stock. He was very honest to me,
and told me his stock was pretty good when he came into the prison, but
 252

the living there as he did in a figure like a gentleman, and, which was ten
times as much, the making of friends, and soliciting his case, had been
very expensive; and, in a word, all his stock that he had left was #108,
which he had about him all in gold.

I gave him an account of my stock as faithfully, that is to say, of what I

had taken to carry with me, for I was resolved, whatever should happen,
to keep what I had left with my governess in reserve; that in case I
should die, what I had with me was enough to give him, and that which
was left in my governess's hands would be her own, which she had well
deserved of me indeed.

My stock which I had with me was #246 some odd shillings; so that we
had #354 between us, but a worse gotten estate was scarce ever put
together to being the world with.

Our greatest misfortune as to our stock was that it was all in money,
which every one knows is an unprofitable cargo to be carried to the
plantations. I believe his was really all he had left in the world, as he told
me it was; but I, who had between #700 and #800 in bank when this
disaster befell me, and who had one of the faithfullest friends in the
world to manage it for me, considering she was a woman of manner of
religious principles, had still #300 left in her hand, which I reserved as
above; besides, some very valuable things, as particularly two gold
watches, some small pieces of plate, and some rings--all stolen goods.
The plate, rings, and watches were put in my chest with the money, and
with this fortune, and in the sixty-first year of my age, I launched out
into a new world, as I may call it, in the condition (as to what appeared)
only of a poor, naked convict, ordered to be transported in respite from
the gallows. My clothes were poor and mean, but not ragged or dirty, and
none knew in the whole ship that I had anything of value about me.

However, as I had a great many very good clothes and linen in

abundance, which I had ordered to be packed up in two great boxes, I
had them shipped on board, not as my goods, but as consigned to my
real name in Virginia; and had the bills of loading signed by a captain in
my pocket; and in these boxes was my plate and watches, and everything
of value except my money, which I kept by itself in a private drawer in
my chest, which could not be found, or opened, if found, with splitting
the chest to pieces.
 253

In this condition I lay for three weeks in the ship, not knowing whether I
should have my husband with me or no, and therefore not resolving how
or in what manner to receive the honest boatswain's proposal, which
indeed he thought a little strange at first.

At the end of this time, behold my husband came on board. He looked

with a dejected, angry countenance, his great heart was swelled with rage
and disdain; to be dragged along with three keepers of Newgate, and put
on board like a convict, when he had not so much as been brought to a
trial. He made loud complaints of it by his friends, for it seems he had
some interest; but his friends got some check in their application, and
were told he had had favour enough, and that they had received such an
account of him, since the last grant of his transportation, that he ought to
think himself very well treated that he was not prosecuted anew. This
answer quieted him at once, for he knew too much what might have
happened, and what he had room to expect; and now he saw the
goodness of the advice to him, which prevailed with him to accept of the
offer of a voluntary transportation. And after this his chagrin at these
hell-hounds, as he called them, was a little over, he looked a little
composed, began to be cheerful, and as I was telling him how glad I was
to have him once more out of their hands, he took me in his arms, and
acknowledged with great tenderness that I had given him the best advice
possible. 'My dear,' says he, 'thou has twice saved my life; from
henceforward it shall be all employed for you, and I'll always take your
advice.'

The ship began now to fill; several passengers came on board, who were
embarked on no criminal account, and these had accommodations
assigned them in the great cabin, and other parts of the ship, whereas
we, as convicts, were thrust down below, I know not where. But when my
husband came on board, I spoke to the boatswain, who had so early
given me hints of his friendship in carrying my letter. I told him he had
befriended me in many things, and I had not made any suitable return to
him, and with that I put a guinea into his hand. I told him that my
husband was now come on board; that though we were both under the
present misfortune, yet we had been persons of a different character
from the wretched crew that we came with, and desired to know of him,
whether the captain might not be moved to admit us to some
conveniences in the ship, for which we would make him what satisfaction
 254

he pleased, and that we would gratify him for his pains in procuring this
for us. He took the guinea, as I could see, with great satisfaction, and
assured me of his assistance.

Then he told us he did not doubt but that the captain, who was one of the
best-humoured gentlemen in the world, would be easily brought to
accommodate us as well as we could desire, and, to make me easy, told
me he would go up the next tide on purpose to speak to the captain about
it. The next morning, happening to sleep a little longer than ordinary,
when I got up, and began to look abroad, I saw the boatswain among the
men in his ordinary business. I was a little melancholy at seeing him
there, and going forward to speak to him, he saw me, and came towards
me, but not giving him time to speak first, I said, smiling, 'I doubt, sir,
you have forgot us, for I see you are very busy.' He returned presently,
'Come along with me, and you shall see.' So he took me into the great
cabin, and there sat a good sort of a gentlemanly man for a seaman,
writing, and with a great many papers before him.

'Here,' says the boatswain to him that was a-writing, 'is the gentlewoman
that the captain spoke to you of'; and turning to me, he said, 'I have been
so far from forgetting your business, that I have been up at the captain's
house, and have represented faithfully to the captain what you said,
relating to you being furnished with better conveniences for yourself and
your husband; and the captain has sent this gentleman, who is made of
the ship, down with me, on purpose to show you everything, and to
accommodate you fully to your content, and bid me assure you that you
shall not be treated like what you were at first expected to be, but with
the same respect as other passengers are treated.'

The mate then spoke to me, and, not giving me time to thank the
boatswain for his kindness, confirmed what the boatswain had said, and
added that it was the captain's delight to show himself kind and
charitable, especially to those that were under any misfortunes, and with
that he showed me several cabins built up, some in the great cabin, and
some partitioned off, out of the steerage, but opening into the great cabin
on purpose for the accommodation of passengers, and gave me leave to
choose where I would. However, I chose a cabin which opened into the
steerage, in which was very good conveniences to set our chest and
boxes, and a table to eat on.
 255

The mate then told me that the boatswain had given so good a character
of me and my husband, as to our civil behaviour, that he had orders to
tell me we should eat with him, if we thought fit, during the whole
voyage, on the common terms of passengers; that we might lay in some
fresh provisions, if we pleased; or if not, he should lay in his usual store,
and we should have share with him. This was very reviving news to me,
after so many hardships and afflictions as I had gone through of late. I
thanked him, and told him the captain should make his own terms with
us, and asked him leave to go and tell my husband of it, who was not very
well, and was not yet out of his cabin. Accordingly I went, and my
husband, whose spirits were still so much sunk with the indignity (as he
understood it) offered him, that he was scare yet himself, was so revived
with the account that I gave him of the reception we were like to have in
the ship, that he was quite another man, and new vigour and courage
appeared in his very countenance. So true is it, that the greatest of
spirits, when overwhelmed by their afflictions, are subject to the greatest
dejections, and are the most apt to despair and give themselves up.

After some little pause to recover himself, my husband came up with me,
and gave the mate thanks for the kindness, which he had expressed to us,
and sent suitable acknowledgment by him to the captain, offering to pay
him by advance, whatever he demanded for our passage, and for the
conveniences he had helped us to. The mate told him that the captain
would be on board in the afternoon, and that he would leave all that till
he came. Accordingly, in the afternoon the captain came, and we found
him the same courteous, obliging man that the boatswain had
represented him to be; and he was so well pleased with my husband's
conversation, that, in short, he would not let us keep the cabin we had
chosen, but gave us one that, as I said before, opened into the great
cabin.

Nor were his conditions exorbitant, or the man craving and eager to
make a prey of us, but for fifteen guineas we had our whole passage and
provisions and cabin, ate at the captain's table, and were very
handsomely entertained.

The captain lay himself in the other part of the great cabin, having let his
round house, as they call it, to a rich planter who went over with his wife
and three children, who ate by themselves. He had some other ordinary
 256

passengers, who quartered in the steerage, and as for our old fraternity,
they were kept under the hatches while the ship lay there, and came very
little on the deck.

I could not refrain acquainting my governess with what had happened; it

was but just that she, who was so really concerned for me, should have
part in my good fortune. Besides, I wanted her assistance to supply me
with several necessaries, which before I was shy of letting anybody see
me have, that it might not be public; but now I had a cabin and room to
set things in, I ordered abundance of good things for our comfort in the
voyage, as brandy, sugar, lemons, etc., to make punch, and treat our
benefactor, the captain; and abundance of things for eating and drinking
in the voyage; also a larger bed, and bedding proportioned to it; so that,
in a word, we resolved to want for nothing in the voyage.

All this while I had provided nothing for our assistance when we should
come to the place and begin to call ourselves planters; and I was far from
being ignorant of what was needful on that occasion; particularly all
sorts of tools for the planter's work, and for building; and all kinds of
furniture for our dwelling, which, if to be bought in the country, must
necessarily cost double the price.

So I discoursed that point with my governess, and she went and waited
upon the captain, and told him that she hoped ways might be found out
for her two unfortunate cousins, as she called us, to obtain our freedom
when we came into the country, and so entered into a discourse with him
about the means and terms also, of which I shall say more in its place;
and after thus sounding the captain, she let him know, though we were
unhappy in the circumstances that occasioned our going, yet that we
were not unfurnished to set ourselves to work in the country, and we
resolved to settle and live there as planters, if we might be put in a way
how to do it. The captain readily offered his assistance, told her the
method of entering upon such business, and how easy, nay, how certain
it was for industrious people to recover their fortunes in such a manner.
'Madam,' says he, ''tis no reproach to any many in that country to have
been sent over in worse circumstances than I perceive your cousins are
in, provided they do but apply with diligence and good judgment to the
business of that place when they come there.'
 257

She then inquired of him what things it was necessary we should carry
over with us, and he, like a very honest as well as knowing man, told her
thus: 'Madam, your cousins in the first place must procure somebody to
buy them as servants, in conformity to the conditions of their
transportation, and then, in the name of that person, they may go about
what they will; they may either purchase some plantations already
begun, or they may purchase land of the Government of the country, and
begin where they please, and both will be done reasonably.' She bespoke
his favour in the first article, which he promised to her to take upon
himself, and indeed faithfully performed it, and as to the rest, he
promised to recommend us to such as should give us the best advice, and
not to impose upon us, which was as much as could be desired.

She then asked him if it would not be necessary to furnish us with a stock
of tools and materials for the business of planting, and he said, 'Yes, by
all means.' And then she begged his assistance in it. She told him she
would furnish us with everything that was convenient whatever it cost
her. He accordingly gave her a long particular of things necessary for a
planter, which, by his account, came to about fourscore or a hundred
pounds. And, in short, she went about as dexterously to buy them, as if
she had been an old Virginia merchant; only that she bought, by my
direction, above twice as much of everything as he had given her a list of.

These she put on board in her own name, took his bills of loading for
them, and endorsed those bills of loading to my husband, insuring the
cargo afterwards in her own name, by our order; so that we were
provided for all events, and for all disasters.

I should have told you that my husband gave her all his whole stock of
#108, which, as I have said, he had about him in gold, to lay out thus,
and I gave her a good sum besides; so that I did not break into the stock
which I had left in her hands at all, but after we had sorted out our whole
cargo, we had yet near #200 in money, which was more than enough for
our purpose.

In this condition, very cheerful, and indeed joyful at being so happily

accommodated as we were, we set sail from Bugby's Hole to Gravesend,
where the ship lay about ten more days, and where the captain came on
board for good and all. Here the captain offered us a civility, which
indeed we had no reason to expect, namely, to let us go on shore and
 258

refresh ourselves, upon giving our words in a solemn manner that we

would not go from him, and that we would return peaceably on board
again. This was such an evidence of his confidence in us, that it overcame
my husband, who, in a mere principle of gratitude, told him, as he could
not be in any capacity to make a suitable return for such a favour, so he
could not think of accepting of it, nor could he be easy that the captain
should run such a risk. After some mutual civilities, I gave my husband a
purse, in which was eighty guineas, and he put in into the captain's hand.
'There, captain,' says he, 'there's part of a pledge for our fidelity; if we
deal dishonestly with you on any account, 'tis your own.' And on this we
went on shore.

Indeed, the captain had assurance enough of our resolutions to go, for
that having made such provision to settle there, it did not seem rational
that we would choose to remain here at the expense and peril of life, for
such it must have been if we had been taken again. In a word, we went all
on shore with the captain, and supped together in Gravesend, where we
were very merry, stayed all night, lay at the house where we supped, and
came all very honestly on board again with him in the morning. Here we
bought ten dozen bottles of good beer, some wine, some fowls, and such
things as we thought might be acceptable on board.

My governess was with us all this while, and went with us round into the
Downs, as did also the captain's wife, with whom she went back. I was
never so sorrowful at parting with my own mother as I was at parting
with her, and I never saw her more. We had a fair easterly wind sprung
up the third day after we came to the Downs, and we sailed from thence
the 10th of April. Nor did we touch any more at any place, till, being
driven on the coast of Ireland by a very hard gale of wind, the ship came
to an anchor in a little bay, near the mouth of a river, whose name I
remember not, but they said the river came down from Limerick, and
that it was the largest river in Ireland.

Here, being detained by bad weather for some time, the captain, who
continued the same kind, good-humoured man as at first, took us two on
shore with him again. He did it now in kindness to my husband indeed,
who bore the sea very ill, and was very sick, especially when it blew so
hard. Here we bought in again a store of fresh provisions, especially beef,
pork, mutton, and fowls, and the captain stayed to pickle up five or six
 259

barrels of beef to lengthen out the ship's store. We were here not above
five days, when the weather turning mild, and a fair wind, we set sail
again, and in two-and-forty days came safe to the coast of Virginia.

When we drew near to the shore, the captain called me to him, and told
me that he found by my discourse I had some relations in the place, and
that I had been there before, and so he supposed I understood the
custom in their disposing the convict prisoners when they arrived. I told
him I did not, and that as to what relations I had in the place, he might
be sure I would make myself known to none of them while I was in the
circumstances of a prisoner, and that as to the rest, we left ourselves
entirely to him to assist us, as he was pleased to promise us he would do.
He told me I must get somebody in the place to come and buy us as
servants, and who must answer for us to the governor of the country, if
he demanded us. I told him we should do as she should direct; so he
brought a planter to treat with him, as it were, for the purchase of these
two servants, my husband and me, and there we were formally sold to
him, and went ashore with him. The captain went with us, and carried us
to a certain house, whether it was to be called a tavern or not I know not,
but we had a bowl of punch there made of rum, etc., and were very
merry. After some time the planter gave us a certificate of discharge, and
an acknowledgment of having served him faithfully, and we were free
from him the next morning, to go wither we would.

For this piece of service the captain demanded of us six thousand weight
of tabacco, which he said he was accountable for to his freighter, and
which we immediately bought for him, and made him a present of twenty
guineas besides, with which he was abundantly satisfied.

It is not proper to enter here into the particulars of what part of the
colony of Virginia we settled in, for divers reasons; it may suffice to
mention that we went into the great river Potomac, the ship being bound
thither; and there we intended to have settled first, though afterwards we
altered our minds.

The first thing I did of moment after having gotten all our goods on
shore, and placed them in a storehouse, or warehouse, which, with a
lodging, we hired at the small place or village where we landed--I say, the
first thing was to inquire after my mother, and after my brother (that
fatal person whom I married as a husband, as I have related at large). A
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little inquiry furnished me with information that Mrs.----, that is, my

mother, was dead; that my brother (or husband) was alive, which I
confess I was not very glad to hear; but which was worse, I found he was
removed from the plantation where he lived formerly, and where I lived
with him, and lived with one of his sons in a plantation just by the place
where we landed, and where we had hired a warehouse.

I was a little surprised at first, but as I ventured to satisfy myself that he

could not know me, I was not only perfectly easy, but had a great mind to
see him, if it was possible to so do without his seeing me. In order to that
I found out by inquiry the plantation where he lived, and with a woman
of that place whom I got to help me, like what we call a chairwoman, I
rambled about towards the place as if I had only a mind to see the
country and look about me. At last I came so near that I saw the dwelling
house. I asked the woman whose plantation that was; she said it
belonged to such a man, and looking out a little to our right hands,
'there,' says she, is the gentleman that owns the plantation, and his
father with him.' 'What are their Christian names?' said I. 'I know not,'
says she, 'what the old gentleman's name is, but the son's name is
Humphrey; and I believe,' says she, 'the father's is so too.' You may
guess, if you can, what a confused mixture of joy and fight possessed my
thoughts upon this occasion, for I immediately knew that this was
nobody else but my own son, by that father she showed me, who was my
own brother. I had no mask, but I ruffled my hood so about my face, that
I depended upon it that after above twenty years' absence, and withal not
expecting anything of me in that part of the world, he would not be able
to know anything of me. But I need not have used all that caution, for the
old gentleman was grown dim-sighted by some distemper which had
fallen upon his eyes, and could but just see well enough to walk about,
and not run against a tree or into a ditch. The woman that was with me
had told me that by a mere accident, knowing nothing of what
importance it was to me. As they drew near to us, I said, 'Does he know
you, Mrs. Owen?' (so they called the woman). 'Yes,' said she, 'if he hears
me speak, he will know me; but he can't see well enough to know me or
anybody else'; and so she told me the story of his sight, as I have related.
This made me secure, and so I threw open my hoods again, and let them
pass by me. It was a wretched thing for a mother thus to see her own son,
a handsome, comely young gentleman in flourishing circumstances, and
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durst not make herself known to him, and durst not take any notice of
him. Let any mother of children that reads this consider it, and but think
with what anguish of mind I restrained myself; what yearnings of soul I
had in me to embrace him, and weep over him; and how I thought all my
entrails turned within me, that my very bowels moved, and I knew not
what to do, as I now know not how to express those agonies! When he
went from me I stood gazing and trembling, and looking after him as
long as I could see him; then sitting down to rest me, but turned from
her, and lying on my face, wept, and kissed the ground that he had set
his foot on.

I could not conceal my disorder so much from the woman but that she
perceived it, and thought I was not well, which I was obliged to pretend
was true; upon which she pressed me to rise, the ground being damp and
dangerous, which I did accordingly, and walked away.

As I was going back again, and still talking of this gentleman and his son,
a new occasion of melancholy offered itself thus. The woman began, as if
she would tell me a story to divert me: 'There goes,' says she, 'a very odd
tale among the neighbours where this gentleman formerly live.' 'What
was that?' said I. 'Why,' says she, 'that old gentleman going to England,
when he was a young man, fell in love with a young lady there, one of the
finest women that ever was seen, and married her, and brought her over
hither to his mother who was then living. He lived here several years
with her,' continued she, 'and had several children by her, of which the
young gentleman that was with him now was one; but after some time,
the old gentlewoman, his mother, talking to her of something relating to
herself when she was in England, and of her circumstances in England,
which were bad enough, the daughter-in-law began to be very much
surprised and uneasy; and, in short, examining further into things, it
appeared past all contradiction that the old gentlewoman was her own
mother, and that consequently that son was his wife's own brother,
which struck the whole family with horror, and put them into such
confusion that it had almost ruined them all. The young woman would
not live with him; the son, her brother and husband, for a time went
distracted; and at last the young woman went away for England, and has
never been hears of since.'
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It is easy to believe that I was strangely affected with this story, but 'tis
impossible to describe the nature of my disturbance. I seemed
astonished at the story, and asked her a thousand questions about the
particulars, which I found she was thoroughly acquainted with. At last I
began to inquire into the circumstances of the family, how the old
gentlewoman, I mean my mother, died, and how she left what she had;
for my mother had promised me very solemnly, that when she died she
would do something for me, and leave it so, as that, if I was living, I
should one way or other come at it, without its being in the power of her
son, my brother and husband, to prevent it. She told me she did not
know exactly how it was ordered, but she had been told that my mother
had left a sum of money, and had tied her plantation for the payment of
it, to be made good to the daughter, if ever she could be heard of, either
in England or elsewhere; and that the trust was left with this son, who
was the person that we saw with his father.

This was news too good for me to make light of, and, you may be sure,
filled my heart with a thousand thoughts, what course I should take,
how, and when, and in what manner I should make myself known, or
whether I should ever make myself know or no.

Here was a perplexity that I had not indeed skill to manage myself in,
neither knew I what course to take. It lay heavy upon my mind night and
day. I could neither sleep nor converse, so that my husband perceived it,
and wondered what ailed me, strove to divert me, but it was all to no
purpose. He pressed me to tell him what it was troubled me, but I put it
off, till at last, importuning me continually, I was forced to form a story,
which yet had a plain truth to lay it upon too. It told him I was troubled
because I found we must shift our quarters and alter our scheme of
settling, for that I found I should be known if I stayed in that part of the
country; for that my mother being dead, several of my relations were
come into that part where we then was, and that I must either discover
myself to them, which in our present circumstances was not proper on
many accounts, or remove; and which to do I knew not, and that this it
was that made me so melancholy and so thoughtful.

He joined with me in this, that it was by no means proper for me to make

myself known to anybody in the circumstances in which we then were;
and therefore he told me he would be willing to remove to any other part
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of the country, or even to any other country if I thought fit. But now I
had another difficulty, which was, that if I removed to any other colony, I
put myself out of the way of ever making a due search after those effects
which my mother had left. Again I could never so much as think of
breaking the secret of my former marriage to my new husband; it was
not a story, as I thought, that would bear telling, nor could I tell what
might be the consequences of it; and it was impossible to search into the
bottom of the thing without making it public all over the country, as well
who I was, as what I now was also.

In this perplexity I continued a great while, and this made my spouse

very uneasy; for he found me perplexed, and yet thought I was not open
with him, and did not let him into every part of my grievance; and he
would often say, he wondered what he had done that I would not trust
him with whatever it was, especially if it was grievous and afflicting. The
truth is, he ought to have been trusted with everything, for no man in the
world could deserve better of a wife; but this was a thing I knew not how
to open to him, and yet having nobody to disclose any part of it to, the
burthen was too heavy for my mind; for let them say what they please of
our sex not being able to keep a secret, my life is a plain conviction to me
of the contrary; but be it our sex, or the man's sex, a secret of moment
should always have a confidant, a bosom friend, to whom we may
communicate the joy of it, or the grief of it, be it which it will, or it will be
a double weight upon the spirits, and perhaps become even
insupportable in itself; and this I appeal to all human testimony for the
truth of.

And this is the cause why many times men as well as women, and men of
the greatest and best qualities other ways, yet have found themselves
weak in this part, and have not been able to bear the weight of a secret
joy or of a secret sorrow, but have been obliged to disclose it, even for the
mere giving vent to themselves, and to unbend the mind oppressed with
the load and weights which attended it. Nor was this any token of folly or
thoughtlessness at all, but a natural consequence of the thing; and such
people, had they struggled longer with the oppression, would certainly
have told it in their sleep, and disclosed the secret, let it have been of
what fatal nature soever, without regard to the person to whom it might
be exposed. This necessity of nature is a thing which works sometimes
with such vehemence in the minds of those who are guilty of any
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atrocious villainy, such as secret murder in particular, that they have

been obliged to discover it, though the consequence would necessarily be
their own destruction. Now, thought it may be true that the divine justice
ought to have the glory of all those discoveries and confessions, yet 'tis as
certain that Providence, which ordinarily works by the hands of nature,
makes use here of the same natural causes to produce those
extraordinary effects.

I could give several remarkable instances of this in my long conversation

with crime and with criminals. I knew one fellow that, while I was in
prison in Newgate, was one of those they called then night-fliers. I know
not what other word they may have understood it by since, but he was
one who by connivance was admitted to go abroad every evening, when
he played his pranks, and furnished those honest people they call thief-
catchers with business to find out the next day, and restore for a reward
what they had stolen the evening before. This fellow was as sure to tell in
his sleep all that he had done, and every step he had taken, what he had
stolen, and where, as sure as if he had engaged to tell it waking, and that
there was no harm or danger in it, and therefore he was obliged, after he
had been out, to lock himself up, or be locked up by some of the keepers
that had him in fee, that nobody should hear him; but, on the other
hand, if he had told all the particulars, and given a full account of his
rambles and success, to any comrade, any brother thief, or to his
employers, as I may justly call them, then all was well with him, and he
slept as quietly as other people.

As the publishing this account of my life is for the sake of the just moral
of very part of it, and for instruction, caution, warning, and improvement
to every reader, so this will not pass, I hope, for an unnecessary
digression concerning some people being obliged to disclose the greatest
secrets either of their own or other people's affairs.

Under the certain oppression of this weight upon my mind, I laboured in

the case I have been naming; and the only relief I found for it was to let
my husband into so much of it as I thought would convince him of the
necessity there was for us to think of settling in some other part of the
world; and the next consideration before us was, which part of the
English settlements we should go to. My husband was a perfect stranger
to the country, and had not yet so much as a geographical knowledge of
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the situation of the several places; and I, that, till I wrote this, did not
know what the word geographical signified, had only a general
knowledge from long conversation with people that came from or went
to several places; but this I knew, that Maryland, Pennsylvania, East and
West Jersey, New York, and New England lay all north of Virginia, and
that they were consequently all colder climates, to which for that very
reason, I had an aversion. For that as I naturally loved warm weather, so
now I grew into years I had a stronger inclination to shun a cold climate.
I therefore considered of going to Caroline, which is the only southern
colony of the English on the continent of America, and hither I proposed
to go; and the rather because I might with great ease come from thence
at any time, when it might be proper to inquire after my mother's effects,
and to make myself known enough to demand them.

With this resolution I proposed to my husband our going away from

where we was, and carrying all our effects with us to Caroline, where we
resolved to settle; for my husband readily agreed to the first part, viz.
that was not at all proper to stay where we was, since I had assured him
we should be known there, and the rest I effectually concealed from him.

But now I found a new difficulty upon me. The main affair grew heavy
upon my mind still, and I could not think of going out of the country
without somehow or other making inquiry into the grand affair of what
my mother had one for me; nor could I with any patience bear the
thought of going away, and not make myself known to my old husband
(brother), or to my child, his son; only I would fain have had this done
without my new husband having any knowledge of it, or they having any
knowledge of him, or that I had such a thing as a husband.

I cast about innumerable ways in my thoughts how this might be done. I

would gladly have sent my husband away to Caroline with all our goods,
and have come after myself, but this was impracticable; he would never
stir without me, being himself perfectly unacquainted with the country,
and with the methods of settling there or anywhere else. Then I thought
we would both go first with part of our goods, and that when we were
settled I should come back to Virginia and fetch the remainder; but even
then I knew he would never part with me, and be left there to go on
alone. The case was plain; he was bread a gentleman, and by
consequence was not only unacquainted, but indolent, and when we did
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settle, would much rather go out into the woods with his gun, which they
call there hunting, and which is the ordinary work of the Indians, and
which they do as servants; I say, he would rather do that than attend the
natural business of his plantation.

These were therefore difficulties insurmountable, and such as I knew not

what to do in. I had such strong impressions on my mind about
discovering myself to my brother, formerly my husband, that I could not
withstand them; and the rather, because it ran constantly in my
thoughts, that if I did not do it while he lived, I might in vain endeavour
to convince my son afterward that I was really the same person, and that
I was his mother, and so might both lose the assistance and comfort of
the relation, and the benefit of whatever it was my mother had left me;
and yet, on the other hand, I could never think it proper to discover
myself to them in the circumstances I was in, as well relating to the
having a husband with me as to my being brought over by a legal
transportation as a criminal; on both which accounts it was absolutely
necessary to me to remove from the place where I was, and come again
to him, as from another place and in another figure.

Upon those considerations, I went on with telling my husband the

absolute necessity there was of our not settling in Potomac River, at least
that we should be presently made public there; whereas if we went to any
other place in the world, we should come in with as much reputation as
any family that came to plant; that, as it was always agreeable to the
inhabitants to have families come among them to plant, who brought
substance with them, either to purchase plantations or begin new ones,
so we should be sure of a kind, agreeable reception, and that without any
possibility of a discovery of our circumstances.

I told him in general, too, that as I had several relations in the place
where we was, and that I durst not now let myself be known to them,
because they would soon come into a knowledge of the occasion and
reason of my coming over, which would be to expose myself to the last
degree, so I had reason to believe that my mother, who dies here, had left
me something, and perhaps considerable, which it might be very well
worth my while to inquire after; but that this too could not be done
without exposing us publicly, unless we went from hence; and then,
wherever we settled, I might come, as it were, to visit and to see my
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brother and nephews, make myself known to them, claim and inquire
after what was my due, be received with respect, and at the same time
have justice done me with cheerfulness and good will; whereas, if I did it
now, I could expect nothing but with trouble, such as exacting it by force,
receiving it with curses and reluctance, and with all kinds of affronts,
which he would not perhaps bear to see; that in case of being obliged to
legal proofs of being really her daughter, I might be at loss, be obliged to
have recourse to England, and it may be to fail at last, and so lose it,
whatever it might be. With these arguments, and having thus acquainted
my husband with the whole secret so far as was needful of him, we
resolved to go and seek a settlement in some other colony, and at first
thoughts, Caroline was the place we pitched upon.

In order to this we began to make inquiry for vessels going to Carolina,

and in a very little while got information, that on the other side the bay,
as they call it, namely, in Maryland, there was a ship which came from
Carolina, laden with rice and other goods, and was going back again
thither, and from thence to Jamaica, with provisions. On this news we
hired a sloop to take in our goods, and taking, as it were, a final farewell
of Potomac River, we went with all our cargo over to Maryland.

This was a long and unpleasant voyage, and my spouse said it was worse
to him than all the voyage from England, because the weather was but
indifferent, the water rough, and the vessel small and inconvenient. In
the next place, we were full a hundred miles up Potomac River, in a part
which they call Westmoreland County, and as that river is by far the
greatest in Virginia, and I have heard say it is the greatest river in the
world that falls into another river, and not directly into the sea, so we
had base weather in it, and were frequently in great danger; for though
we were in the middle, we could not see land on either side for many
leagues together. Then we had the great river or bay of Chesapeake to
cross, which is where the river Potomac falls in to it, near thirty miles
broad, and we entered more great vast waters whose names I know not,
so that our voyage was full two hundred miles, in a poor, sorry sloop,
with all our treasure, and if any accident had happened to us, we might
at last have been very miserable; supposing we had lost our goods and
saved our lives only, and had then been left naked and destitute, and in a
wild, strange place not having one friend or acquaintance in all that part
 268

of the world. The very thought of it gives me some horror, even since the
danger is past.

Well, we came to the place in five days' sailing; I think they call it Philip's
Point; and behold, when we came thither, the ship bound to Carolina
was loaded and gone away but three days before. This was a
disappointment;; but, however, I, that was to be discouraged with
nothing, told my husband that since we could not get passage to
Caroline, and that the country we was in was very fertile and good, we
would, if he liked of it, see if we could find out anything for our tune
where we was, and that if he liked things we would settle here.

We immediately went on shore, but found no conveniences just at that

place, either for our being on shore or preserving our goods on shore, but
was directed by a very honest Quaker, whom we found there, to go to a
place about sixty miles east; that is to say, nearer the mouth of the bay,
where he said he lived, and where we should be accommodated, either to
plant, or to wait for any other place to plant in that might be more
convenient; and he invited us with so much kindness and simply
honesty, that we agreed to go, and the Quaker himself went with us.

Here we bought us two servants, viz. an English woman-servant just

come on shore from a ship of Liverpool, and a Negro man-servant, things
absolutely necessary for all people that pretended to settle in that
country. This honest Quaker was very helpful to us, and when we came
to the place that he proposed to us, found us out a convenient storehouse
for our goods, and lodging for ourselves and our servants; and about two
months or thereabouts afterwards, by his direction, we took up a large
piece of land from the governor of that country, in order to form our
plantation, and so we laid the thoughts of going to Caroline wholly aside,
having been very well received here, and accommodated with a
convenient lodging till we could prepare things, and have land enough
cleared, and timber and materials provided for building us a house, all
which we managed by the direction of the Quaker; so that in one year's
time we had nearly fifty acres of land cleared, part of it enclosed, and
some of it planted with tabacco, though not much; besides, we had
garden ground and corn sufficient to help supply our servants with roots
and herbs and bread.
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And now I persuaded my husband to let me go over the bay again, and
inquire after my friends. He was the willinger to consent to it now,
because he had business upon his hands sufficient to employ him,
besides his gun to divert him, which they call hunting there, and which
he greatly delighted in; and indeed we used to look at one another,
sometimes with a great deal of pleasure, reflecting how much better that
was, not than Newgate only, but than the most prosperous of our
circumstances in the wicked trade that we had been both carrying on.

Our affair was in a very good posture; we purchased of the proprietors of

the colony as much land for #35, paid in ready money, as would make a
sufficient plantation to employ between fifty and sixty servants, and
which, being well improved, would be sufficient to us as long as we could
either of us live; and as for children, I was past the prospect of anything
of that kind.

But out good fortune did not end here. I went, as I have said, over the
bay, to the place where my brother, once a husband, lived; but I did not
go to the same village where I was before, but went up another great
river, on the east side of the river Potomac, called Rappahannock River,
and by this means came on the back of his plantation, which was large,
and by the help of a navigable creek, or little river, that ran into the
Rappahannock, I came very near it.

I was now fully resolved to go up point-blank to my brother (husband),

and to tell him who I was; but not knowing what temper I might find him
in, or how much out of temper rather, I might make him by such a rash
visit, I resolved to write a letter to him first, to let him know who I was,
and that I was come not to give him any trouble upon the old relation,
which I hoped was entirely forgot, but that I applied to him as a sister to
a brother, desiring his assistance in the case of that provision which our
mother, at her decease, had left for my support, and which I did not
doubt but he would do me justice in, especially considering that I was
come thus far to look after it.

I said some very tender, kind things in the letter about his son, which I
told him he knew to be my own child, and that as I was guilty of nothing
in marrying him, any more than he was in marrying me, neither of us
having then known our being at all related to one another, so I hoped he
would allow me the most passionate desire of once seeing my one and
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only child, and of showing something of the infirmities of a mother in

preserving a violent affect for him, who had never been able to retain any
thought of me one way or other.

I did believe that, having received this letter, he would immediately give
it to his son to read, I having understood his eyes being so dim, that he
could not see to read it; but it fell out better than so, for as his sight was
dim, so he had allowed his son to open all letters that came to his hand
for him, and the old gentleman being from home, or out of the way when
my messenger came, my letter came directly to my son's hand, and he
opened and read it.

He called the messenger in, after some little stay, and asked him where
the person was who gave him the letter. The messenger told him the
place, which was about seven miles off, so he bid him stay, and ordering
a horse to be got ready, and two servants, away he came to me with the
messenger. Let any one judge the consternation I was in when my
messenger came back, and told me the old gentleman was not at home,
but his son was come along with him, and was just coming up to me. I
was perfectly confounded, for I knew not whether it was peace or war,
nor could I tell how to behave; however, I had but a very few moments to
think, for my son was at the heels of the messenger, and coming up into
my lodgings, asked the fellow at the door something. I suppose it was, for
I did not hear it so as to understand it, which was the gentlewoman that
sent him; for the messenger said, 'There she is, sir'; at which he comes
directly up to me, kisses me, took me in his arms, and embraced me with
so much passion that he could not speak, but I could feel his breast heave
and throb like a child, that cries, but sobs, and cannot cry it out.

I can neither express nor describe the joy that touched my very soul
when I found, for it was easy to discover that part, that he came not as a
stranger, but as a son to a mother, and indeed as a son who had never
before known what a mother of his own was; in short, we cried over one
another a considerable while, when at last he broke out first. 'My dear
mother,' says he, 'are you still alive? I never expected to have seen your
face.' As for me, I could say nothing a great while.

After we had both recovered ourselves a little, and were able to talk, he
told me how things stood. As to what I had written to his father, he told
me he had not showed my letter to his father, or told him anything about
 271

it; that what his grandmother left me was in his hands, and that he
would do me justice to my full satisfaction; that as to his father, he was
old and infirm both in body and mind; that he was very fretful and
passionate, almost blind, and capable of nothing; and he questioned
whether he would know how to act in an affair which was of so nice a
nature as this; and that therefore he had come himself, as well to satisfy
himself in seeing me, which he could not restrain himself from, as also to
put it into my power to make a judgment, after I had seen how things
were, whether I would discover myself to his father or no.

This was really so prudently and wisely managed, that I found my son
was a man of sense, and needed no direction from me. I told him I did
not wonder that his father was as he had described him, for that his head
was a little touched before I went away; and principally his disturbance
was because I could not be persuaded to conceal our relation and to live
with him as my husband, after I knew that he was my brother; that as he
knew better than I what his father's present condition was, I should
readily join with him in such measure as he would direct; that I was
indifferent as to seeing his father, since I had seen him first, and he could
not have told me better news than to tell me that what his grandmother
had left me was entrusted in his hands, who, I doubted not, now he knew
who I was, would, as he said, do me justice. I inquired then how long my
mother had been dead, and where she died, and told so many particulars
of the family, that I left him no room to doubt the truth of my being
really and truly his mother.
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CHAPTER 13

My son then inquired where I was, and how I had disposed myself. I told
him I was on the Maryland side of the bay, at the plantation of a
particular friend who came from England in the same ship with me; that
as for that side of the bay where he was, I had no habitation. He told me I
should go home with him, and live with him, if I pleased, as long as I
lived; that as to his father, he knew nobody, and would never so much as
guess at me. I considered of that a little, and told him, that though it was
really no concern to me to live at a distance from him, yet I could not say
it would be the most comfortable thing in the world to me to live in the
house with him, and to have that unhappy object always before me,
which had been such a blow to my peace before; that though I should be
glad to have his company (my son), or to be as near him as possible while
I stayed, yet I could not think of being in the house where I should be
also under constant restraint for fear of betraying myself in my
discourse, nor should I be able to refrain some expressions in my
conversing with him as my son, that might discover the whole affair,
which would by no means be convenient.

He acknowledged that I was right in all this. 'But then, dear mother,' says
he, 'you shall be as near me as you can.' So he took me with him on
horseback to a plantation next to his own, and where I was as well
entertained as I could have been in his own. Having left me there he
went away home, telling me we would talk of the main business the next
day; and having first called me his aunt, and given a charge to the
people, who it seems were his tenants, to treat me with all possible
respect. About two hours after he was gone, he sent me a maid-servant
and a Negro boy to wait on me, and provisions ready dressed for my
supper; and thus I was as if I had been in a new world, and began
secretly now to wish that I had not brought my Lancashire husband from
England at all.

However, that wish was not hearty neither, for I lived my Lancashire
husband entirely, as indeed I had ever done from the beginning; and he
merited from me as much as it was possible for a man to do; but that by
the way.
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The next morning my son came to visit me again almost as soon as I was
up. After a little discourse, he first of all pulled out a deerskin bag, and
gave it me, with five-and-fifty Spanish pistoles in it, and told me that was
to supply my expenses from England, for though it was not his business
to inquire, yet he ought to think I did not bring a great deal of money out
with me, it not being usual to bring much money into that country. Then
he pulled out his grandmother's will, and read it over to me, whereby it
appeared that she had left a small plantation, as he called it, on York
River, that is, where my mother lived, to me, with the stock of servants
and cattle upon it, and given it in trust to this son of mine for my use,
whenever he should hear of my being alive, and to my heirs, if I had any
children, and in default of heirs, to whomsoever I should by will dispose
of it; but gave the income of it, till I should be heard of, or found, to my
said son; and if I should not be living, then it was to him, and his heirs.

This plantation, though remote from him, he said he did not let out, but
managed it by a head-clerk (steward), as he did another that was his
father's, that lay hard by it, and went over himself three or four times a
year to look after it. I asked him what he thought the plantation might be
worth. He said, if I would let it out, he would give me about 60 a year for
it; but if I would live on it, then it would be worth much more, and, he
believed, would bring me in about #150 a year. But seeing I was likely
either to settle on the other side of the bay, or might perhaps have a
mind to go back to England again, if I would let him be my steward he
would manage it for me, as he had done for himself, and that he believed
he should be able to send me as much tobacco to England from it as
would yield me about #100 a year, sometimes more.

This was all strange news to me, and things I had not been used to; and
really my heart began to look up more seriously than I think it ever did
before, and to look with great thankfulness to the hand of Providence,
which had done such wonders for me, who had been myself the greatest
wonder of wickedness perhaps that had been suffered to live in the
world. And I must again observe, that not on this occasion only, but even
on all other occasions of thankfulness, my past wicked and abominable
life never looked so monstrous to me, and I never so completely
abhorred it, and reproached myself with it, as when I had a sense upon
me of Providence doing good to me, while I had been making those vile
returns on my part.
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But I leave the reader to improve these thoughts, as no doubt they will
see cause, and I go on to the fact. My son's tender carriage and kind
offers fetched tears from me, almost all the while he talked with me.
Indeed, I could scarce discourse with him but in the intervals of my
passion; however, at length I began, and expressing myself with wonder
at my being so happy to have the trust of what I had left, put into the
hands of my own child, I told him ,that as to the inheritance of it, I had
no child but him in the world, and was now past having any if I should
marry, and therefore would desire him to get a writing drawn, which I
was ready to execute, by which I would, after me, give it wholly to him
and to his heirs. And in the meantime, smiling, I asked him what made
him continue a bachelor so long. His answer was kind and ready, that
Virginia did not yield any great plenty of wives, and that since I talked of
going back to England, I should send him a wife from London.

This was the substance of our first day's conversation, the pleasantest
day that ever passed over my head in my life, and which gave me the
truest satisfaction. He came every day after this, and spent great part of
his time with me, and carried me about to several of his friends' houses,
where I was entertained with great respect. Also I dines several times at
his own house, when he took care always to see his half-dead father so
out of the way that I never saw him, or he me. I made him one present,
and it was all I had of value, and that was one of the gold watches, of
which I mentioned above, that I had two in my chest, and this I
happened to have with me, and I gave it him at his third visit. I told him I
had nothing of any value to bestow but that, and I desired he would now
and then kiss it for my sake. I did not indeed tell him that I had stole it
from a gentlewoman's side, at a meeting-house in London. That's by the
way.

He stood a little while hesitating, as if doubtful whether to take it or no;

but I pressed it on him, and made him accept it, and it was not much less
worth than his leather pouch full of Spanish gold; no, though it were to
be reckoned as if at London, whereas it was worth twice as much there,
where I gave it him. At length he took it, kissed it, told me the watch
should be a debt upon him that he would be paying as long as I lived.

A few days after he brought the writings of gift, and the scrivener with
them, and I signed them very freely, and delivered them to him with a
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hundred kisses; for sure nothing ever passed between a mother and a
tender, dutiful child with more affection. The next day he brings me an
obligation under his hand and seal, whereby he engaged himself to
manage and improve the plantation for my account, and with his utmost
skill, and to remit the produce to my order wherever I should be; and
withal, to be obliged himself to make up the produce #100 a year to me.
When he had done so, he told me that as I came to demand it before the
crop was off, I had a right to produce of the current year, and so he paid
me #100 in Spanish pieces of eight, and desired me to give him a receipt
for it as in full for that year, ending at Christmas following; this being
about the latter end of August.

I stayed here about five weeks, and indeed had much ado to get away
then. Nay, he would have come over the bay with me, but I would by no
means allow him to it. However, he would send me over in a sloop of his
own, which was built like a yacht, and served him as well for pleasure as
business. This I accepted of, and so, after the utmost expressions both of
duty and affection, he let me come away, and I arrived safe in two days at
my friend's the Quaker's.

I brought over with me for the use of our plantation, three horses, with
harness and saddles, some hogs, two cows, and a thousand other things,
the gift of the kindest and tenderest child that ever woman had. I related
to my husband all the particulars of this voyage, except that I called my
son my cousin; and first I told him that I had lost my watch, which he
seemed to take as a misfortune; but then I told him how kind my cousin
had been, that my mother had left me such a plantation, and that he had
preserved it for me, in hopes some time or other he should hear from
me; then I told him that I had left it to his management, that he would
render me a faithful account of its produce; and then I pulled him out the
#100 in silver, as the first year's produce; and then pulling out the
deerskin purse with the pistoles, 'And here, my dear,' says I, 'is the gold
watch.' My husband--so is Heaven's goodness sure to work the same
effects in all sensible minds where mercies touch the heart--lifted up
both hands, and with an ecstacy of joy, 'What is God a-doing,' says he,
'for such an ungrateful dog as I am!' Then I let him know what I had
brought over in the sloop, besides all this; I mean the horses, hogs, and
cows, and other stores for our plantation; all which added to his surprise,
and filled his heart with thankfulness; and from this time forward I
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believe he was as sincere a penitent, and as thoroughly a reformed man,

as ever God's goodness brought back from a profligate, a highwayman,
and a robber. I could fill a larger history than this with the evidence of
this truth, and but that I doubt that part of the story will not be equally
diverting as the wicked part, I have had thoughts of making a volume of
it by itself.

As for myself, as this is to be my own story, not my husband's, I return to

that part which related to myself. We went on with our plantation, and
managed it with the help and diversion of such friends as we got there by
our obliging behaviour, and especially the honest Quaker, who proved a
faithful, generous, and steady friend to us; and we had very good success,
for having a flourishing stock to begin with, as I have said, and this being
now increased by the addition of #150 sterling in money, we enlarged
our number of servants, built us a very good house, and cured every year
a great deal of land. The second year I wrote to my old governess, giving
her part with us of the joy of our success, and order her how to lay out
the money I had left with her, which was #250 as above, and to send it to
us in goods, which she performed with her usual kindness and fidelity,
and this arrived safe to us.

Here we had a supply of all sorts of clothes, as well for my husband as for
myself; and I took especial care to buy for him all those things that I
knew he delighted to have; as two good long wigs, two silver-hilted
swords, three or four fine fowling-pieces, a find saddle with holsters and
pistols very handsome, with a scarlet cloak; and, in a word, everything I
could think of to oblige him, and to make him appear, as he really was, a
very fine gentleman. I ordered a good quantity of such household stuff as
we yet wanted, with linen of all sorts for us both. As for myself, I wanted
very little of clothes or linen, being very well furnished before. The rest of
my cargo consisted in iron-work of all sorts, harness for horses, tools,
clothes for servants, and woollen cloth, stuffs, serges, stockings, shoes,
hats, and the like, such as servants wear; and whole pieces also to make
up for servants, all by direction of the Quaker; and all this cargo arrived
safe, and in good condition, with three woman-servants, lusty wenches,
which my old governess had picked for me, suitable enough to the place,
and to the work we had for them to do; one of which happened to come
double, having been got with child by one of the seamen in the ship, as
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she owned afterwards, before the ship got so far as Gravesend; so she
brought us a stout boy, about seven months after her landing.

My husband, you may suppose, was a little surprised at the arriving of all
this cargo from England; and talking with me after he saw the account of
this particular, 'My dear,' says he, 'what is the meaning of all this? I fear
you will run us too deep in debt: when shall we be able to make return
for it all?' I smiled, and told him that is was all paid for; and then I told
him, that what our circumstances might expose us to, I had not taken my
whole stock with me, that I had reserved so much in my friend's hands,
which now we were come over safe, and was settled in a way to live, I had
sent for, as he might see.

He was amazed, and stood a while telling upon his fingers, but said
nothing. At last he began thus: 'Hold, let's see,' says he, telling upon his
fingers still, and first on his thumb; 'there's #246 in money at first, then
two gold watches, diamond rings, and plate,' says he, upon the
forefinger. Then upon the next finger, 'Here's a plantation on York River,
#100 a year, then #150 in money, then a sloop load of horses, cows,
hogs, and stores'; and so on to the thumb again. 'And now,' says he, 'a
cargo cost #250 in England, and worth here twice the money.' 'Well,'
says I, 'what do you make of all that?' 'Make of it?' says he; 'why, who
says I was deceived when I married a wife in Lancashire? I think I have
married a fortune, and a very good fortune too,' says he.

In a word, we were now in very considerable circumstances, and every

year increasing; for our new plantation grew upon our hands insensibly,
and in eight years which we lived upon it, we brought it to such pitch,
that the produce was at least #300 sterling a year; I mean, worth so
much in England.

After I had been a year at home again, I went over the bay to see my son,
and to receive another year's income of my plantation; and I was
surprised to hear, just at my landing there, that my old husband was
dead, and had not been buried above a fortnight. This, I confess, was not
disagreeable news, because now I could appear as I was, in a married
condition; so I told my son before I came from him, that I believed I
should marry a gentleman who had a plantation near mine; and though I
was legally free to marry, as to any obligation that was on me before, yet
that I was shy of it, lest the blot should some time or other be revived,
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and it might make a husband uneasy. My son, the same kind, dutiful,
and obliging creature as ever, treated me now at his own house, paid me
my hundred pounds, and sent me home again loaded with presents.

Some time after this, I let my son know I was married, and invited him
over to see us, and my husband wrote a very obliging letter to him also,
inviting him to come and see him; and he came accordingly some
months after, and happened to be there just when my cargo from
England came in, which I let him believe belonged all to my husband's
estate, not to me.

It must be observed that when the old wretch my brother (husband) was
dead, I then freely gave my husband an account of all that affair, and of
this cousin, as I had called him before, being my own son by that
mistaken unhappy match. He was perfectly easy in the account, and told
me he should have been as easy if the old man, as we called him, had
been alive. 'For,' said he, 'it was no fault of yours, nor of his; it was a
mistake impossible to be prevented.' He only reproached him with
desiring me to conceal it, and to live with him as a wife, after I knew that
he was my brother; that, he said, was a vile part. Thus all these
difficulties were made easy, and we lived together with the greatest
kindness and comfort imaginable.

We are grown old; I am come back to England, being almost seventy

years of age, husband sixty-eight, having performed much more than the
limited terms of my transportation; and now, notwithstanding all the
fatigues and all the miseries we have both gone through, we have both
gone through, we are both of us in good heart and health. My husband
remained there some time after me to settle our affairs, and at first I had
intended to go back to him, but at his desire I altered that resolution, and
he is come over to England also, where we resolve to spend the
remainder of our years in sincere penitence for the wicked lives we have
lived.