Moll Flanders

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It was my happiness hitherto that I had not discovered myself
or my circumstances at all--no, not so much as my name; and
seeing these was nothing to be expected from him, however
good-humoured and however honest he seemed to be, but to
live on what I knew would soon be wasted, I resolved to
conceal everything but the bank bill and the eleven guineas
which I had owned; and I would have been very glad to have
lost that and have been set down where he took me up. I had
indeed another bank bill about me of #30, which was the whole
of what I brought with me, as well to subsist on in the country,
as not knowing what might offer; because this creature, the
go-between that had thus betrayed us both, had made me
believe strange things of my marrying to my advantage in the
country, and I was not willing to be without money, whatever
might happen. This bill I concealed, and that made me the
freer of the rest, in consideration of his circumstances, for I
really pitied him heartily.

But to return to his question, I told him I never willingly
deceived him, and I never would. I was very sorry to tell him
that the little I had would not subsist us; that it was not
sufficient to subsist me alone in the south country, and that
this was the reason that made me put myself into the hands
of that woman who called him brother, she having assured
me that I might board very handsomely at a town called
Manchester, where I had not yet been, for about #6 a year;
and my whole income not being about #15 a year, I thought I
might live easy upon it, and wait for better things.

He shook his head and remained silent, and a very melancholy
evening we had; however, we supped together, and lay together
that night, and when we had almost supped he looked a little
better and more cheerful, and called for a bottle of wine. 'Come,
my dear,' says he, ' though the case is bad, it is to no purpose
to be dejected. come, be as easy as you can; I will endeavour
to find out some way or other to live; if you can but subsist
yourself, that is better than nothing. I must try the world again;
a man ought to think like a man; to be discouraged is to yield
to the misfortune.' With this he filled a glass and drank to me,
holding my hand and pressing it hard in his hand all the while
the wine went down, and protesting afterwards his main
concern was for me.

It was really a true, gallant spirit he was of, and it was the
more grievous to me. 'Tis something of relief even to be
undone by a man of honour, rather than by a scoundrel; but
here the greatest disappointment was on his side, for he had
really spent a great deal of money, deluded by this madam the
procuress; and it was very remarkable on what poor terms he
proceeded. First the baseness of the creature herself is to be
observed, who, for the getting #100 herself, could be content
to let him spend three or four more, though perhaps it was all
he had in the world, and more than all; when she had not the
least ground, more than a little tea-table chat, to say that I had
any estate, or was a fortune, or the like. It is true the design
of deluding a woman of fortune, I f I had been so, was base
enough; the putting the face of great things upon poor
circumstances was a fraud, and bad enough; but the case a
little differed too, and that in his favour, for he was not a rake
that made a trade to delude women, and, as some have done,
get six or seven fortunes after one another, and then rifle and
run away from them; but he was really a gentleman, unfortunate
and low, but had lived well; and though, if I had had a fortune,
I should have been enraged at the slut for betraying me, yet
really for the man, a fortune would not have been ill bestowed
on him, for he was a lovely person indeed, of generous principles,
good sense, and of abundance of good-humour.

We had a great deal of close conversation that night, for we
neither of us slept much; he was as penitent for having put all
those cheats upon me as if it had been felony, and that he was
going to execution; he offered me again every shilling of the
money he had about him, and said he would go into the army
and seek the world for more.

I asked him why he would be so unkind to carry me into
Ireland, when I might suppose he could not have subsisted me
there. He took me in his arms. 'My dear,' said he, 'depend
upon it, I never designed to go to Ireland at all, much less to
have carried you thither, but came hither to be out of the
observation of the people, who had heard what I pretended to,
and withal, that nobody might ask me for money before I was
furnished to supply them.'

'But where, then,' said I, 'were we to have gone next?'

'Why, my dear,' said he, 'I'll confess the whole scheme to you
as I had laid it; I purposed here to ask you something about
your estate, as you see I did, and when you, as I expected you
would, had entered into some account with me of the particulars,
I would have made an excuse to you to have put off our voyage
to Ireland for some time, and to have gone first towards London.

'Then, my dear,' said he, 'I resolved to have confessed all the
circumstances of my own affairs to you, and let you know I
had indeed made use of these artifices to obtain your consent
to marry me, but had now nothing to do but ask to your pardon,
and to tell you how abundantly, as I have said above, I would
endeavour to make you forget what was past, by the felicity
of the days to come.'

'Truly,' said I to him, 'I find you would soon have conquered
me; and it is my affliction now, that I am not in a condition to
let you see how easily I should have been reconciled to you,
and have passed by all the tricks you had put upon me, in
recompense of so much good-humour. But, my dear,' said I,
'what can we do now? We are both undone, and what better
are we for our being reconciled together, seeing we have
nothing to live on?'

We proposed a great many things, but nothing could offer
where there was nothing to begin with. He begged me at last
to talk no more of it, for, he said, I would break his heart; so
we talked of other things a little, till at last he took a husband's
leave of me, and so we went to sleep.

He rose before me in the morning; and indeed, having lain
awake almost all night, I was very sleepy, and lay till near
eleven o'clock. In this time he took his horses and three
servants, and all his linen and baggage, and away he went,
leaving a short but moving letter for me on the table, as
follows:--

'MY DEAR--I am a dog; I have abused you; but I have been
drawn into do it by a base creature, contrary to my principle
and the general practice of my life. Forgive me, my dear! I
ask your pardon with the greatest sincerity; I am the most
miserable of men, in having deluded you. I have been so happy
to posses you, and now am so wretched as to be forced to fly
from you. Forgive me, my dear; once more I say, forgive me!
I am not able to see you ruined by me, and myself unable to
support you. Our marriage is nothing; I shall never be able to
see you again; I here discharge you from it; if you can marry
to your advantage, do not decline it on my account; I here
swear to you on my faith, and on the word of a man of honour,
I will never disturb your repose if I should know of it, which,
however, is not likely. On the other hand, if you should not
marry, and if good fortune should befall me, it shall be all yours,
wherever you are.

'I have put some of the stock of money I have left into your
pocket; take places for yourself and your maid in the stage-coach,
and go for London; I hope it will bear your charges thither,
without breaking into your own. Again I sincerely ask your
pardon, and will do so as often as I shall ever think of you.
Adieu, my dear, for ever!--I am, your most affectionately, J.E.'

Nothing that ever befell me in my life sank so deep into my
heart as this farewell. I reproached him a thousand times in
my thoughts for leaving me, for I would have gone with him
through the world, if I had begged my bread. I felt in my
pocket, and there found ten guineas, his gold watch, and two
little rings, one a small diamond ring worth only about #6, and
the other a plain gold ring.

I sat me down and looked upon these things two hours
together, and scarce spoke a word, till my maid interrupted
me by telling me my dinner was ready. I ate but little, and
after dinner I fell into a vehement fit of crying, every now and
then calling him by his name, which was James. 'O Jemmy!'
said I, 'come back, come back. I'll give you all I have; I'll
beg, I'll starve with you.' And thus I ran raving about the
room several times, and then sat down between whiles, and
then walking about again, called upon him to come back, and
then cried again; and thus I passed the afternoon, till about
seven o'clock, when it was near dusk, in the evening, being
August, when, to my unspeakable surprise, he comes back
into the inn, but without a servant, and comes directly up into
my chamber.

I was in the greatest confusion imaginable, and so was he too.
I could not imagine what should be the occasion of it, and
began to be at odds with myself whether to be glad or sorry;
but my affection biassed all the rest, and it was impossible to
conceal my joy, which was too great for smiles, for it burst
out into tears. He was no sooner entered the room but he ran
to me and took me in his arms, holding me fast, and almost
stopping my breath with his kisses, but spoke not a word.
At length I began. 'My dear,' said I, 'how could you go away
from me?' to which he gave no answer, for it was impossible
for him to speak.

When our ecstasies were a little over, he told me he was gone
about fifteen miles, but it was not in his power to go any farther
without coming back to see me again, and to take his leave of
me once more.

I told him how I had passed my time, and how loud I had
called him to come back again. He told me he heard me very
plain upon Delamere Forest, at a place about twelve miles off.
I smiled. 'Nay,' says he, 'do not think I am in jest, for if ever
I heard your voice in my life, I heard you call me aloud, and
sometimes I thought I saw you running after me.' 'Why,'
said I, 'what did I say?'--for I had not named the words to him.
'You called aloud,' says he, 'and said, O Jemmy! O Jemmy!
come back, come back.'

I laughed at him. 'My dear,' says he, 'do not laugh, for, depend
upon it, I heard your voice as plain as you hear mine now; if
you please, I'll go before a magistrate and make oath of it.' I
then began to be amazed and surprised, and indeed frightened,
and told him what I had really done, and how I had called after
him, as above.

When we had amused ourselves a while about this, I said to
him: 'Well, you shall go away from me no more; I'll go all
over the world with you rather.' He told me it would be very
difficult thing for him to leave me, but since it must be, he
hoped I would make it as easy to me as I could; but as for him,
it would be his destruction that he foresaw.

However, he told me that he considered he had left me to
travel to London alone, which was too long a journey; and
that as he might as well go that way as any way else, he was
resolved to see me safe thither, or near it; and if he did go
away then without taking his leave, I should not take it ill of
him; and this he made me promise.

He told me how he had dismissed his three servants, sold
their horses, and sent the fellows away to seek their fortunes,
and all in a little time, at a town on the road, I know not where.
'And,' says he, 'it cost me some tears all alone by myself, to
think how much happier they were than their master, for they
could go to the next gentleman's house to see for a service,
whereas,' said he, 'I knew not wither to go, or what to do
with myself.'

I told him I was so completely miserable in parting with him,
that I could not be worse; and that now he was come again,
I would not go from him, if he would take me with him, let
him go whither he would, or do what he would. And in the
meantime I agreed that we would go together to London; but
I could not be brought to consent he should go away at last
and not take his leave of me, as he proposed to do; but told
him, jesting, that if he did, I would call him back again as loud
as I did before. Then I pulled out his watch and gave it him
back, and his two rings, and his ten guineas; but he would not
take them, which made me very much suspect that he resolved
to go off upon the road and leave me.

The truth is, the circumstances he was in, the passionate
expressions of his letter, the kind, gentlemanly treatment I had
from him in all the affair, with the concern he showed for me
in it, his manner of parting with that large share which he gave
me of his little stock left--all these had joined to make such
impressions on me, that I really loved him most tenderly, and
could not bear the thoughts of parting with him.

Two days after this we quitted Chester, I in the stage-coach,
and he on horseback. I dismissed my maid at Chester. He
was very much against my being without a maid, but she being
a servant hired in the country, and I resolving to keep no
servant at London, I told him it would have been barbarous
to have taken the poor wench and have turned her away as
soon as I came to town; and it would also have been a needless
charge on the road, so I satisfied him, and he was easy enough
on the score.

He came with me as far as Dunstable, within thirty miles of
London, and then he told me fate and his own misfortunes
obliged him to leave me, and that it was not convenient for
him to go to London, for reasons which it was of no value to
me to know, and I saw him preparing to go. The stage-coach
we were in did not usually stop at Dunstable, but I desiring it
but for a quart of an hour, they were content to stand at an
inndoor a while, and we went into the house.

Being in the inn, I told him I had but one favour more to as
of him, and that was, that since he could not go any farther,
he would give me leave to stay a week or two in the town with
him, that we might in that time think of something to prevent
such a ruinous thing to us both, as a final separation would be;
and that I had something of moment to offer him, that I had
never said yet, and which perhaps he might find practicable to
our mutual advantage.

This was too reasonable a proposal to be denied, so he called
the landlady of the house, and told her his wife was taken ill,
and so ill that she could not think of going any farther in the
stage-coach, which had tired her almost to death, and asked
if she could not get us a lodging for two or three days in a
private house, where I might rest me a little, for the journey
had been too much for me. The landlady, a good sort of
woman, well-bred and very obliging, came immediately to
see me; told me she had two or three very good rooms in a
part of the house quite out of the noise, and if I saw them,
she did not doubt but I would like them, and I should have
one of her maids, that should do nothing else but be appointed
to wait on me. This was so very kind, that I could not but
accept of it, and thank her; so I went to look on the rooms and
liked them very well, and indeed they were extraordinarily
furnished, and very pleasant lodgings; so we paid the stage-coach,
took out our baggage, and resolved to stay here a while.

Here I told him I would live with him now till all my money
was spent, but would not let him spend a shilling of his own.
We had some kind squabble about that, but I told him it was
the last time I was like to enjoy his company, and I desired he
would let me be master in that thing only, and he should govern
in everything else; so he acquiesced.

Here one evening, taking a walk into the fields, I told him I
would now make the proposal to him I had told him of;
accordingly I related to him how I had lived in Virginia, that
I had a mother I believed was alive there still, though my
husband was dead some years. I told him that had not my
effects miscarried, which, by the way, I magnified pretty much,
I might have been fortune good enough to him to have kept
us from being parted in this manner. Then I entered into the
manner of peoples going over to those countries to settle,
how they had a quantity of land given them by the Constitution
of the place; and if not, that it might be purchased at so easy a
rate this it was not worth naming.

I then gave him a full and distinct account of the nature of
planting; how with carrying over but two or three hundred
pounds value in English goods, with some servants and tools,
a man of application would presently lay a foundation for a
family, and in a very few years be certain to raise an estate.

I let him into the nature of the product of the earth; how the
ground was cured and prepared, and what the usual increase
of it was; and demonstrated to him, that in a very few years,
with such a beginning, we should be as certain of being rich
as we were now certain of being poor.

He was surprised at my discourse; for we made it the whole
subject of our conversation for near a week together, in which
time I laid it down in black and white, as we say, that it was
morally impossible, with a supposition of any reasonable good
conduct, but that we must thrive there and do very well.

Then I told him what measures I would take to raise such a
sum of #300 or thereabouts; and I argued with him how good
a method it would be to put an end to our misfortunes and
restore our circumstances in the world, to what we had both
expected; and I added, that after seven years, if we lived, we
might be in a posture to leave our plantations in good hands,
and come over again and receive the income of it, and live
here and enjoy it; and I gave him examples of some that had
done so, and lived now in very good circumstances in London.

In short, I pressed him so to it, that he almost agreed to it, but
still something or other broke it off again; till at last he turned
the tables, and he began to talk almost to the same purpose of
Ireland.

He told me that a man that could confine himself to country
life, and that could find but stock to enter upon any land,
should have farms there for #50 a year, as good as were here
let for #200 a year; that the produce was such, and so rich the
land, that if much was not laid up, we were sure to live as
handsomely upon it as a gentleman of #3000 a year could do
in England and that he had laid a scheme to leave me in London,
and go over and try; and if he found he could lay a handsome
foundation of living suitable to the respect he had for me, as
he doubted not he should do, he would come over and fetch me.

I was dreadfully afraid that upon such a proposal he would
have taken me at my word, viz. to sell my little income as I
called it, and turn it into money, and let him carry it over into
Ireland and try his experiment with it; but he was too just to
desire it, or to have accepted it if I had offered it; and he
anticipated me in that, for he added, that he would go and try
his fortune that way, and if he found he could do anything at
it to live, then, by adding mine to it when I went over, we
should live like ourselves; but that he would not hazard a
shilling of mine till he had made the experiment with a little,
and he assured me that if he found nothing to be done in Ireland,
he would then come to me and join in my project for Virginia.

He was so earnest upon his project being to be tried first, that
I could not withstand him; however, he promised to let me
hear from him in a very little time after his arriving there, to
let me know whether his prospect answered his design, that
if there was not a possibility of success, I might take the
occasion to prepare for our other voyage, and then, he assured
me, he would go with me to America with all his heart.

I could bring him to nothing further than this. However, those
consultations entertained us near a month, during which I
enjoyed his company, which indeed was the most entertaining
that ever I met in my life before. In this time he let me into
the whole story of his own life, which was indeed surprising,
and full of an infinite variety sufficient to fill up a much brighter
history, for its adventures and incidents, than any I ever say in
print; but I shall have occasion to say more of him hereafter.

We parted at last, though with the utmost reluctance on my
side; and indeed he took his leave very unwillingly too, but
necessity obliged him, for his reasons were very good why he
would not come to London, as I understood more fully some
time afterwards.

I gave him a direction how to write to me, though still I
reserved the grand secret, and never broke my resolution,
which was not to let him ever know my true name, who I was,
or where to be found; he likewise let me know how to write a
letter to him, so that, he said, he would be sure to receive it.

I came to London the next day after we parted, but did not go
directly to my old lodgings; but for another nameless reason
took a private lodging in St. John's Street, or, as it is vulgarly
called, St. Jones's, near Clerkenwell; and here, being perfectly
alone, I had leisure to sit down and reflect seriously upon the
last seven months' ramble I had made, for I had been abroad
no less. The pleasant hours I had with my last husband I looked
back on with an infinite deal of pleasure; but that pleasure was
very much lessened when I found some time after that I was
really with child.

This was a perplexing thing, because of the difficulty which
was before me where I should get leave to lie in; it being one of
the nicest things in the world at that time of day for a woman
that was a stranger, and had no friends, to be entertained in
that circumstance without security, which, by the way, I had
not, neither could I procure any.

I had taken care all this while to preserve a correspondence
with my honest friend at the bank, or rather he took care to
correspond with me, for he wrote to me once a week; and
though I had not spent my money so fast as to want any from
him, yet I often wrote also to let him know I was alive. I had
left directions in Lancashire, so that I had these letters, which
he sent, conveyed to me; and during my recess at St. Jones's
received a very obliging letter from him, assuring me that his
process for a divorce from his wife went on with success,
though he met with some difficulties in it that he did not expect.

I was not displeased with the news that his process was more
tedious than he expected; for though I was in no condition to
have him yet, not being so foolish to marry him when I knew
myself to be with child by another man, as some I know have
ventured to do, yet I was not willing to lose him, and, in a
word, resolved to have him if he continued in the same mind,
as soon as I was up again; for I saw apparently I should hear
no more from my husband; and as he had all along pressed to
marry, and had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at
it, or ever offer to claim me again, so I made no scruple to
resolve to do it if I could, and if my other friend stood to his
bargain; and I had a great deal of reason to be assured that he
would stand to it, by the letters he wrote to me, which were
the kindest and most obliging that could be.

I now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it,
and began to take notice of it to me, and, as far as civility
would allow, intimated that I must think of removing. This
put me to extreme perplexity, and I grew very melancholy, for
indeed I knew not what course to take. I had money, but no
friends, and was like to have a child upon my hands to keep,
which was a difficult I had never had upon me yet, as the
particulars of my story hitherto make appear.

In the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy
really increased my distemper; my illness proved at length to
be only an ague, but my apprehensions were really that I should
miscarry. I should not say apprehensions, for indeed I would
have been glad to miscarry, but I could never be brought to
entertain so much as a thought of endeavouring to miscarry,
or of taking any thing to make me miscarry; I abhorred, I say,
so much as the thought of it.

However, speaking of it in the house, the gentlewoman who
kept the house proposed to me to send for a midwife. I
scrupled it at first, but after some time consented to it, but
told her I had no particular acquaintance with any midwife,
and so left it to her.

It seems the mistress of the house was not so great a stranger
to such cases as mine was as I thought at first she had been,
as will appear presently, and she sent for a midwife of the
right sort--that is to say, the right sort for me.

The woman appeared to be an experienced woman in her
business, I mean as a midwife; but she had another calling too,
in which she was as expert as most women if not more. My
landlady had told her I was very melancholy, and that she
believed that had done me harm; and once, before me, said to
her, 'Mrs. B----' (meaning the midwife), 'I believe this lady's
trouble is of a kind that is pretty much in your way, and
therefore if you can do anything for her, pray do, for she is a
very civil gentlewoman'; and so she went out of the room.

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