Moll Flanders

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I had a great many thoughts in my head about my seeing him
again, and was often sorry that I had refused it. I was persuaded
that if I had seen him, and let him know that I knew him, I
should have made some advantage of him, and perhaps have
had some maintenance from him; and though it was a life
wicked enough, yet it was not so full of danger as this I was
engaged in. However, those thoughts wore off, and I declined
seeing him again, for that time; but my governess saw him
often, and he was very kind to her, giving her something almost
every time he saw her. One time in particular she found him
very merry, and as she thought he had some wine in his head,
and he pressed her again very earnestly to let him see that
woman that, as he said, had bewitched him so that night, my
governess, who was from the beginning for my seeing him,
told him he was so desirous of it that she could almost yield
of it, if she could prevail upon me; adding that if he would
please to come to her house in the evening, she would
endeavour it, upon his repeated assurances of forgetting what
was past.

Accordingly she came to me, and told me all the discourse;
in short, she soon 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 hi desire to see me again; and
that since he had once broke in upon his virtue with me, and
found no ill consequences, he could be safe in venturing there
again; and so, in short, it went on to what I expected, and to
what will not bear relating.

My old governess had foreseen it, as well as I, and therefore
led him into a room which had not a bed in it, and yet had a
chamber within it which had a bed, whither we withdrew for
the rest of the night; and, in short, after some time being
together, he went to bed, and lay there all night. I withdrew,
but came again undressed in the morning, before it was day,
and lay with him the rest of the time.

Thus, you see, having committed a crime once is a sad handle
to the committing of it again; whereas all the regret and
reflections wear off when the temptation renews itself. Had
I not yielded to see him again, the corrupt desire in him had
worn off, and 'tis very probable he had never fallen into it
with anybody else, as I really believe he had not done before.

When he went away, I told him I hoped he was satisfied he
had not been robbed again. He told me he was satisfied in
that point, and could trust me again, and putting his hand in
his pocket, gave me five guineas, which was the first money
I had gained that way for many years.

I had several visits of the like kind from him, but he never
came into a settled way of maintenance, which was what I
would have best pleased with. Once, indeed, he asked me
how I did to live. I answered him pretty quick, that I assured
him I had never taken that course that I took with him, but
that indeed I worked at my needle, and could just maintain
myself; that sometime it was as much as I was able to do, and
I shifted hard enough.

He seemed to reflect upon himself that he should be the first
person to lead me into that, which he assured me he never
intended to do himself; and it touched him a little, he said,
that he should be the cause of his own sin and mine too. He
would often make just reflections also upon the crime itself,
and upon the particular circumstances of it with respect to
himself; how wine introduced the inclinations how the devil
led him to the place, and found out an object to tempt him,
and he made the moral always himself.

When these thoughts were upon him he would go away, and
perhaps not come again in a month's time or longer; but then
as the serious part wore off, the lewd part would wear in, and
then he came prepared for the wicked part. Thus we lived for
some time; thought he did not keep, as they call it, yet he
never failed doing things that were handsome, and sufficient
to maintain me without working, and, which was better,
without following my old trade.

But this affair had its end too; for after about a year, I found
that he did not come so often as usual, and at last he left if
off altogether without any dislike to bidding adieu; and so
there was an end of that short scene of life, which added no
great store to me, only to make more work for repentance.

However, during this interval I confined myself pretty much
at home; at least, being thus provided for, I made no adventures,
no, not for a quarter of a year after he left me; but then finding
the fund fail, and being loth to spend upon the main stock, I
began to think of my old trade, and to look abroad into the
street again; and my first step was lucky enough.

I had dressed myself up in a very mean habit, for as I had
several shapes to appear in, I was now in an ordinary stuff-gown,
a blue apron, and a straw hat and I placed myself at the door
of the Three Cups Inn in 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 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.

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.

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 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 hear more of it when Mr. William and Mr. Anthony
(those were other journeymen) come back; they will know her
again as well as I.'

Just as the insolent rogue was talking thus to the constable,
comes back Mr. William and Mr. Anthony, as he called them,
and a great rabble with them, bringing along with them the
true widow that I was pretended to be; and they came sweating
and blowing into the shop, and with a great deal of triumph,
dragging the poor creature in the most butcherly manner up
towards their master, who was in the back shop, and cried
out aloud, 'Here's the widow, sir; we have catcher her at last.'
'What do ye mean by that?' says the master. 'Why, we have
her already; there she sits,' says he, 'and Mr.----,' says he,
'can swear this is she.' The other man, whom they called Mr.
Anthony, replied, 'Mr. ---- may say what he will, and swear
what he will, but this is the woman, and there's the remnant
of satin she stole; I took it out of her clothes with my own hand.'

I sat still now, and began to take a better heart, but smiled and
said nothing; the master looked pale; the constable turned
about and looked at me. 'Let 'em alone, Mr. Constable,' said
I; 'let 'em go on.' The case was plain and could not be denied,
so the constable was charged with the right thief, and the
mercer told me very civilly he was sorry for the mistake, and
hoped I would not take it ill; that they had so many things of
this nature put upon them every day, that they could not be
blamed for being very sharp in doing themselves justice. 'Not
take it ill, sir!' said I; 'how can I take it well! If you had
dismissed me when your insolent fellow seized on me it the
street, and brought me to you, and when you yourself
acknowledged I was not the person, I would have put it by,
and not taken it ill, because of the many ill things I believe
you have put upon you daily; but your treatment of me since
has been insufferable, and especially that of your servant; I
must and will have reparation for that.'

Then be began to parley with me, said he would make me any
reasonable satisfaction, and would fain have had me tell him
what it was I expected. I told him that I should not be my
own judge, the law should decide it for me; and as I was to be
carried before a magistrate, I should let him hear there what
I had to say. He told me there was no occasion to go before
the justice now, I was at liberty to go where I pleased; and so,
calling to the constable, told him he might let me go, for I
was discharge. The constable said calmly to him, 'sir, you
asked me just now if I knew whether I was a constable or
justice, and bade me do my duty, and charged me with this
gentlewoman as a prisoner. Now, sir, I find you do not
understand what is my duty, for you would make me a justice
indeed; but I must tell you it is not in my power. I may keep
a prisoner when I am charged with him, but 'tis the law and
the magistrate alone that can discharge that prisoner; therefore
'tis a mistake, sir; I must carry her before a justice now,
whether you think well of it or not.' The mercer was very
high with the constable at first; but the constable happening
to be not a hired officer, but a good, substantial kind of man
(I think he was a corn-handler), and a man of good sense,
stood to his business, would not discharge me without going
to a justice of the peace; and I insisted upon it too. When the
mercer saw that, 'Well,' says he to the constable, 'you may
carry her where you please; I have nothing to say to her.'
'But, sir,' says the constable, 'you will go with us, I hope, for
'tis you that charged me with her.' 'No, not I,' says the
mercer; 'I tell you I have nothing to say to her.' 'But pray, sir,
do,' says the constable; 'I desire it of you for your own sake,
for the justice can do nothing without you.' 'Prithee, fellow,'
says the mercer, 'go about your business; I tell you I have
nothing to say to the gentlewoman. I charge you in the king's
name to dismiss her.' 'Sir,' says the constable, 'I find you
don't know what it is to be constable; I beg of you don't oblige
me to be rude to you.' 'I think I need not; you are rude enough
already,' says the mercer. 'No, sir,' says the constable, 'I am
not rude; you have broken the peace in bringing an honest
woman out of the street, when she was about her lawful
occasion, confining her in your shop, and ill-using her here
by your servants; and now can you say I am rude to you? I
think I am civil to you in not commanding or charging you in
the king's name to go with me, and charging every man I see
that passes your door to aid and assist me in carrying you by
force; this you cannot but know I have power to do, and yet I
forbear it, and once more entreat you to go with me.' Well, he
would not for all this, and gave the constable ill language.
However, the constable kept his temper, and would not be
provoked; and then I put in and said, 'Come, Mr. Constable,
let him alone; I shall find ways enough to fetch him before a
magistrate, I don't fear that; but there's the fellow,' says I,
'he was the man that seized on me as I was innocently going
along the street, and you are a witness of the violence with
me since; give me leave to charge you with him, and carry
him before the justice.' 'Yes, madam,' says the constable;
and turning to the fellow 'Come, young gentleman,' says he
to the journeyman, 'you must go along with us; I hope you
are not above the constable's power, though your master is.'

The fellow looked like a condemned thief, and hung back,
then looked at his master, as if he could help him; and he, like
a fool, encourage the fellow to be rude, and he truly resisted
the constable, and pushed him back with a good force when
he went to lay hold on him, at which the constable knocked
him down, and called out for help; and immediately the shop
was filled with people, and the constable seized the master
and man, and all his servants.

This first ill consequence of this fray was, that the woman
they had taken, who was really the thief, made off, and got
clear away in the crowd; and two other that they had stopped
also; whether they were really guilty or not, that I can say
nothing to.

By this time some of his neighbours having come in, and,
upon inquiry, seeing how things went, had 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 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.

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