Bab Bab 51 · 第51章
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 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
stable 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.
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 no 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 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 worth 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 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.