Chapter Chapter 55 · 第55章
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 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.
Then 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 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.”
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 sufferers 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.
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 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.