by Daniel Defoe
table, he laid his elbow upon the table, andleaning his head on his hand, fixed his eyes on the ground as onestupid. I cried so vehemently, on the other hand, that it was a goodwhile ere I could speak any more; but after I had given some vent to mypassion by tears, I repeated the same words, 'My dear, do you not knowme?' At which he answered, Yes, and said no more a good while.
After some time continuing in the surprise, as above, he cast up hiseyes towards me and said, 'How could you be so cruel?' I did notreadily understand what he meant; and I answered, 'How can you call mecruel? 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 robbedyou, at least not on the highway.'
I perceived by this that he knew nothing of the miserable circumstancesI was in, and thought that, having got some intelligence of his beingthere, I had come to upbraid him with his leaving me. But I had toomuch to say to him to be affronted, and told him in few words, that Iwas far from coming to insult him, but at best I came to condolemutually; 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 thatmany ways. He looked a little concerned at the general expression ofmy condition being worse than his, but, with a kind smile, looked alittle wildly, and said, 'How can that be? When you see me fettered,and in Newgate, and two of my companions executed already, how canyour condition be worse than mine?'
'Come, my dear,' says I, 'we have a long piece of work to do, if Ishould be to relate, or you to hear, my unfortunate history; but if youare disposed to hear it, you will soon conclude with me that mycondition 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 beencast for my life three sessions ago, and am under sentence of death; isnot my case worse than yours?'
Then indeed, he stood silent again, like one struck dumb, and after awhile he starts up. 'Unhappy couple!' says he. 'How can this bepossible?' I took him by the hand. 'Come, my dear,' said I, 'sitdown, and let us compare our sorrows. I am a prisoner in this veryhouse, and in much worse circumstances than you, and you will besatisfied I do not come to insult you, when I tell you theparticulars.' And with this we sat down together, and I told him somuch of my story as I thought was convenient, bringing it at last to mybeing reduced to great poverty, and representing myself as fallen intosome company that led me to relieve my distresses by way that I hadbeen utterly unacquainted with, and that they making an attempt at atradesman's house, I was seized upon for having been but just at thedoor, the maid-servant pulling me in; that I neither had broke any locknor taken anything away, and that notwithstanding that, I was broughtin guilty and sentenced to die; but that the judges, having been madesensible of the hardship of my circumstances, had obtained leave toremit the sentence upon my consenting to be transported.
I told him I fared the worse for being taken in the prison for one MollFlanders, who was a famous successful thief, that all of them had heardof, but none of them had ever seen; but that, as he knew well, was noneof my name. But I placed all to the account of my ill fortune, andthat under this name I was dealt with as an old offender, though thiswas the first thing they had ever known of me. I gave him a longparticular of things that had befallen me since I saw him, but I toldhim if I had seen him since he might think I had, and then gave him anaccount 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 veryhonest gentleman, one Mr. ----, the hue-and-cry was stopped, and thehigh constable went back again.
He listened most attentively to all my story, and smiled at most of theparticulars, being all of them petty matters, and infinitely below whathe 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 thecheck 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 Ihad observed him there. 'Why, then,' said he, 'it was you that savedmy life at that time, and I am glad I owe my life to you, for I willpay the debt to you now, and I'll deliver you from the presentcondition 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 runningthe hazard of, and for a life not worth his saving. 'Twas no matterfor that, he said, it was a life worth all the world to him; a lifethat had given him a new life; 'for,' says he, 'I was never in realdanger of being taken, but that time, till the last minute when I wastaken.' Indeed, he told me his danger then lay in his believing he hadnot been pursued that way; for they had gone from Hockey quite anotherway, and had come over the enclosed country into Brickhill, not by theroad, and were sure they had not been seen by anybody.
Here he gave me a long history of his life, which indeed would make avery strange history, and be infinitely diverting. He told me he tookto the road about twelve years before he married me; that the womanwhich called him brother was not really his sister, or any kin to him,but one that belonged to their gang, and who, keeping correspondencewith him, lived always in town, having good store of acquaintance; thatshe gave them a perfect intelligence of persons going out of town, andthat they had made several good booties by her correspondence; that shethought she had fixed a fortune for him when she brought me to him, buthappened 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 shewas informed I had, he had resolved to leave off the road and live aretired, sober live but never to appear in public till some generalpardon had been passed, or till he could, for money, have got his nameinto some particular pardon, that so he might have been perfectly easy;but that, as it had proved otherwise, he was obliged to put off hisequipage and take up the old trade again.
He gave me a long account of some of his adventures, and particularlyone when he robbed the West Chester coaches near Lichfield, when he gota very great booty; and after that, how he robbed five graziers, in thewest, going to Burford Fair in Wiltshire to buy sheep. He told me hegot so much money on those two occasions, that if he had known where tohave found me, he would certainly have embraced my proposal of goingwith me to Virginia, or to have settled in a plantation on some otherparts of the English colonies in America.
He told me he wrote two or three letters to me, directed according tomy 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, Icould do nothing in it, and therefore chose to give no answer, that sohe might rather believe they had miscarried.
Being thus disappointed, he said, he carried on the old trade eversince, though when he had gotten so much money, he said, he did not runsuch desperate risks as he did before. Then he gave me some account ofseveral hard and desperate encounters which he had with gentlemen onthe road, who parted too hardly with their money, and showed me somewounds he had received; and he had one or two very terrible woundsindeed, as particularly one by a pistol bullet, which broke his arm,and another with a sword, which ran him quite through the body, butthat missing his vitals, he was cured again; one of his comrades havingkept with him so faithfully, and so friendly, as that he assisted himin riding near eighty miles before his arm was set, and then got asurgeon in a considerable city, remote from that place where it wasdone, pretending they were gentlemen travelling towards Carlisle andthat they had been attacked on the road by highwaymen, and that one ofthem had shot him into the arm and broke the bone.
This, he said, his friend managed so well, that they were not suspectedat all, but lay still till he was perfectly cured. He gave me so manydistinct accounts of his adventures, that it is with great reluctancethat I decline the relating them; but I consider that this is my ownstory, not his.
I then inquired into the circumstances of his present case at thattime, and what it was he expected when he came to be tried. He told methat they had no evidence against him, or but very little
; for that ofthree robberies, which they were all charged with, it was his goodfortune that he was but in one of them, and that there was but onewitness to be had for that fact, which was not sufficient, but that itwas expected some others would come in against him; that he thoughtindeed, when he first saw me, that I had been one that came of thaterrand; but that if somebody came in against him, he hoped he should becleared; that he had had some intimation, that if he would submit totransport himself, he might be admitted to it without a trial, but thathe could not think of it with any temper, and thought he could mucheasier 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 forhim that was a