he seemed to feel for her, he was no less concerned about his own
interest. He advised her immediately to leave her lodgings, and
added that he had very elegant apartments which were at her service.
She accepted his offer; and, with her maid, who was informed of her
intentions, and prepared to assist her, immediately set out for the
residence of her lover. When introduced to their new apartment, these
ladies did not go to bed, as they had resolved to depart next morning,
but lay down to rest themselves with their clothes on. When the house
was all quiet, they broke open the lover’s desk, took out a bag with
a hundred pounds, two suits of clothes, and every thing valuable that
they could carry along with them.
Her numerous and varied adventures would far exceed the limits
appropriated to one life in this volume. It is sufficient to observe,
that rather than her hands should be unemployed, or her avaricious
disposition unsatisfied, she would carry off the most trifling article;
that, according to the proverb, all was fish that came into her net;
and that when a watch, a diamond, or piece of plate could not be found,
a napkin, a pair of sheets; or any article of wearing apparel, would
suffice.
One day she, along with her pretended maid, went into a mercer’s shop
in Cheapside, and purchased a piece of silk to the value of six pounds.
She pulled out her purse to pay the draper, but to her surprise found
that she had no money except some large pieces of gold, for which she
had so high an esteem, that she could not think of parting with them.
The polite draper, on his part, could not think of hurting the feelings
of a lady so elegantly dressed, and, accordingly, dispatched one of his
shopkeepers along with her to receive his money. Arrived at the Royal
Exchange, Madame ordered the coachman to stop, when, upon pretence of
purchasing some ribands that would suit the silks, her maid carried
out the parcel, and went along with her, leaving the shopman in the
coach to wait their return. The young man waited in the coach, until
he was impatient and ashamed, and then returned home to relate his
misfortunes, and the loss of his master.
Upon another occasion Madame waited upon a French weaver in
Spitalfields, and purchased goods to the amount of forty pounds. He
went home with her to carry the parcel and to receive his money. She
desired him to make out a bill for the whole of the goods, as one half
belonged to a lady in the next room. With all the ceremony natural to
a Frenchman, he sat down to write his account, while she took the silk
into the adjacent room to show it to her niece, to whom the one half
belonged. By means of a bottle of wine which Madame had placed before
the French weaver, half an hour passed over without much uneasiness.
At length his patience was exhausted, and, having called up the people
of the house, he inquired for the lady who came in with him, and who
told him she was only gone into the next room. To the utter confusion
and disappointment of poor Monsieur, he was informed that his lady was
gone, and would, they believed, return no more to that dwelling. To
calm his rage, and to convince him that they were not confederates in
her villany, they conveyed him to the next room, and showed him, that
the proper entry to her apartment was by a back stair; adding, that she
had only taken their room for a month, for which she had paid them, and
that her time being expired, they knew not whither she had gone.
Determined to collect her contributions from householders instead of
travellers, she next took lodgings from a tailor. As it was natural
for a generous, good-hearted lady to promote the prosperity of the
family where she resided, Madame employed the tailor to make the goods
she had procured from the mercer and the weaver. Convinced that he had
got an excellent job, as well as a rich lodger, the tailor, with mirth
and song, sat down to make Madame’s dresses. As she acquainted him
that upon a specified day she was to have a large party, the tailor
called in all his journeymen to his aid, and had the whole finished
by that time. Meanwhile, the Princess gave her landlady a guinea to
purchase what things she deemed necessary, promising to pay her the
remainder the following day. The day arrived, the guests appeared,
an elegant entertainment was served up, and plenty of wine drunk.
None were without their due portion. The tailor had plied his glass
so plentifully, that his wife had to lend him her assistance to his
bed-chamber. This answered the design of our Princess. She and all her
company departed one by one, carrying away, each a silver tankard, or a
saltcellar, or a knife, or a fork, while the maid carried off all the
clothes that were not upon their backs. The moment they reached the
street, the maid was placed in a coach with the booty, and the rest of
the company took different directions, none of them being discovered.
Thus a merry night brought a sorrowful morning to the poor industrious
tailor.
Madame being attacked with a fit of mourning, sent her confidential
maid to a shop in the New Exchange, where she had purchased a few
articles the previous day. The woman of the shop, with all possible
expedition, selected the best specimens of her goods, and hastened to
the lodgings. Madame was so very much indisposed when the milliner
arrived, that she could not look at the things, and desired her to
return after dinner, when she doubted not but they would agree as to
the price. The obliging milliner was satisfied, and requested liberty
to leave her goods until she returned, a request which was readily
granted. At the hour appointed she returned, and inquired if the lady
up stairs were at home. To her great mortification she was informed
that she was gone they could not tell where, and that she did not
intend to return. But before her departure she had conveyed away the
valuable part of her effects. Thus both her landlady and the milliner
were left to regret her absence, and to reflect upon their own easy
credulity and loss.
But the adventures of our ingenious Princess increase in magnitude as
they multiply in number. Being arrayed in her sable robes, and having
taken lodgings in Holborn, she sent for a barrister of Gray’s Inn,
and informed him, that by the death of her father, she was sole heir
to his fortune, but that she was married to an extravagant husband,
who was resolved to secure her property to himself. Here she poured
forth a torrent of tears and the most grievous lamentations, the more
to interest the young barrister in her favor. But while the lawyer was
squaring his features to the occasion, and talking of the matter in a
learned and eloquent strain, a woman ran up stairs, exclaiming, “O,
madam, we are all undone! for my master is below; he has been asking
for you, and swears that he will come up to your chamber. I am afraid
the people of the house will not be able to hinder him, he appears so
resolute.”--“O heavens!” exclaimed Madame, “what shall I do?”--“Why?”
cried the lawyer. “Why!” quoth she, “I mean how shall I dispose of you?
Dear me, what excuse shall I make for your being here? I dare not tell
him your quality and business, for that would endanger all; and, on the
other side, he is extremely jealous. Therefore, good sir, step into
that closet until I can send him away.” Surprised, and at a loss what
to do, the lawyer complied. The closet being locked, and the curtains
of the bed drawn, she opened the door to her husband, who was loudly
demanding admittance.
The moment he entered, he gave his spouse the most opprobrious
language. “O, mistress abandoned! I understand you have a man in the
room: a pretty companion for a poor innocent woman, truly! one who is
always complaining how hardly I use her. Where is the villain? I shall
sacrifice him this moment. Is this your modesty, madam? this your
virtue? Let me see your gallant immediately, or, by the light! you
shall be the first victim yourself.” Saying this, he made to the closet
door, and burst it open like a fury. The young lawyer was discovered
with shame, though innocent, and trembling in every limb. The husband’s
sword was unsheathed, and death was before the barrister’s eyes. But
Madame, interposing, seemed determined rather to die herself than to
suffer the blood of an innocent man to stain her chamber. A companion
of the husband also fortunately came to her assistance, and seizing the
arm of the infuriated man, struggled to wrest the sword from his hand.
The discernment of the lawyer soon discovered the deception, and, to
exculpate and relieve himself, he candidly related the whole matter,
and the reason for which he was introduced into that place. But all was
in vain. The injured and enraged husband insisted that this was only a
feigned narrative to cover his villany, and nothing but his blood, or
an adequate remuneration, would assuage his fury. The cause was at last
referred to the arbitration of the kind stranger who had interfered,
and aided Madame in protecting the young lawyer. Five hundred pounds
were proposed as a proper recompense; but that was far beyond the
power of the lawyer to command. It was with no small difficulty agreed
that he should give a hundred pounds, rather than be found exposed to
the consequences of detection, in a situation where he was unable to
vindicate his innocence. He sent a note to a friend for that sum, the
confederates being careful to examine it before it was transmitted,
lest it should be for a constable, instead of a hundred pounds. Upon
the payment of that sum the lawyer was liberated, and went off with the
bitter reflection, that, instead of receiving a good fee for writing
a deed of settlement, he had paid a hundred pounds for a few minutes’
lodging in a closet; but, consoling himself with the hopes of seeing
this amiable widow speedily _exalted_ to merited honor.
The good wishes of the lawyer were in a very few years verified in
her history. Not long after this, Madame was apprehended, accused of
stealing a silver tankard at Covent Garden, and sent to Newgate. At
the next sessions she was tried, and transported to Jamaica; where,
however, she only remained two years, when she returned to England,
and appeared in the character of a great heiress. The result of this
artifice was, that she was speedily married to a rich apothecary,
whom she soon robbed of above three hundred pounds, and then left him
to resolve the question whether the loss of his money or the loss of
his wife was the greatest misfortune. Madame went next to lodge in
a house where the landlady, a watchmaker, herself, and her faithful
maid, composed the whole family. Having established her character for
sobriety and probity, she invited her landlady and the watchmaker to
the play, and treated them with tickets. They accepted the invitation,
and the maid remained at home, sole guardian of the garrison. But
during their absence, she broke open the locks, extracted about two
hundred pounds, and made free with about thirty watches; so that her
spoil amounted in all to six hundred pounds, which she carried to the
appointed place of rendezvous. Meanwhile, Madame, not satisfied with
treating the watchmaker and her good landlady with tickets to the
play, after it was over took them to a tavern to treat them to a small
collation, where she embraced an opportunity to decamp.
It happened that one Mr. Freeman, a brewer, had been robbed of two
hundred pounds, and that an officer had been sent to search every
suspected place for the thieves. One Lancaster was the person upon whom
suspicion chiefly rested, and, while searching a house for him, they
discovered Madame walking in a night-gown. The thief-catcher entered
her room, and, seeing two letters upon the table, he began to examine
their contents. Madame was highly displeased with his impertinent
freedom, and, in the course of the dispute which ensued, he had
occasion to examine the features of her countenance, and recognising
her ladyship, took both her and her letters along with him.
When removed to the Old Bailey, she was interrogated, whether she was
the woman who usually went by the name of Mary Carleton. She answered,
“Yes.” The court then demanded the reason of her return from banishment
before the specified time. She made many trifling excuses, which
detained the court for a few days; but finding these excuses would not
answer her purpose, she pleaded pregnancy. A committee of matrons was
then appointed to examine her, who gave a verdict against her, and she
was condemned to suffer in conformity with her previous sentence.
In prison she was visited by many, out of curiosity to see the behavior
of such a remarkable character in confinement and under sentence of
death; and several clergymen attended her to conduct her devotions,
and to direct her in her calamitous situation. She confessed herself
to be a Roman Catholic, and sincerely bewailed her criminal conduct,
frequently wishing that she could again renew her life, in order to
spend it in a more exemplary and virtuous manner.
On the day of her execution, she appeared more cheerful and gay than
usual, and, placing the picture of her husband upon her arm, she
went to Tyburn with it. She appeared devout, and, when she heard St.
Sepulchre’s bell begin to toll, uttered several pious ejaculations.
To a friend, who rode in a cart with her to the place of execution,
she delivered two Roman Catholic books; and, addressing the multitude,
owned that she had been a very vain woman, and hoped that her fate
would deter others from the same evil ways; and that, though the world
had condemned her, she had much to say for herself. Then, praying God
to forgive her as she did her most inveterate enemies, she was in a few
minutes launched into eternity. She was executed in the year 1672, in
the thirty-eighth year of her age, and in the same month of the year in
which she was born.
CAPTAIN DUDLEY.
Captain Dudley was born at Swepston in Leicestershire. His father
once possessed a considerable estate, but through extravagance lost
the whole except about sixty pounds per annum. In these reduced
circumstances he went to London, intending to live in obscurity,
corresponding to the state of his finances.
Richard his son had a promising genius, and received a liberal
education at St. Paul’s school. But a naturally vicious disposition
baffled all restraints. When only nine years old he showed his covetous
disposition, by robbing his sister of thirty shillings, and absconding
with it. In a few days, however, he was found, brought home, and sent
to school, where his vicious propensities were only strengthened by
indulgence. Impatient of the confinement of a school, he next robbed
his father of a considerable sum of money, and absconded. His father,
however, discovered his retreat, and found him a little way from town
in the company of two loose women.
Despairing of his settling at home, his father sent him on board a
man-of-war, in which he sailed up the straits, and behaved gallantly in
several actions. Upon his arrival in England, he left the ship, under
the pretence that a younger officer had been preferred before him,
upon the death of one of the lieutenants. In a short time he joined a
band of thieves, assisted them in robbing the country-house of admiral
Carter, and escaped detection. Having at length commenced robber, the
first remarkable robbery in which he was engaged, was that of breaking
into the house of a lady of Blackheath, and carrying off a large
quantity of plate.
He and his associates were successful in selling the plate to a
refiner; but in a short time he was apprehended for the robbery,
and committed to Newgate. While there, he sent for the refiner, and
severely reproached him in the following manner: “It is,” said he, “a
hard matter to find an honest man and a fair dealer: for, you cursed
rogue, among the plate you bought there was a cup with a cover, which
you told us was but silver gilt, buying it at the same price with the
rest; but it plainly appeared, by the advertisement in the gazette,
that it was a gold cup and cover; I see you are a rogue, and that there
is no trusting any body.” Dudley was tried, convicted for this robbery,
and sentenced to death: but his youth, and the interest of his friends,
procured him a royal pardon.
For two years he conducted himself to the satisfaction of his father,
so that he purchased for him a commission in the army. In that
situation he also acquitted himself honorably, and married a young lady
of a respectable family, with whom he received an estate of a hundred
and forty pounds a year. This, with his commission, enabled them to
live in a genteel manner. Delighting, however, in company, and having
become security for one of his companions for a debt, and that person
being arrested for it, one of the bailiffs was killed in the scuffle,
and Dudley was suspected of being the murderer.
What strengthened this suspicion was, that Dudley was the avowed enemy
of all that class of society. He deemed a bailiff in England, or what
is known in Scotland by the name of messenger, as one who is determined
to strip every person who comes under his power of all he possibly can.
But, leaving the statements of Dudley concerning these men, let us
return to the relation of his actions. Having banished every virtuous
feeling, being more inclined to live upon the ruins of his country
than the fruits of his industry, and more disposed to fight than to
work, he abandoned his own house, and joined a band of robbers. Dudley
soon became so expert a robber, that there was scarcely any robbery
committed but he acted a principal part in it. Pleased with this easy
way of obtaining money, and of supporting an extravagant expense, he
also prevailed upon Will, his brother, to join him in this employment.
It happened, however, that Will had not been long in his new
occupation, when the captain was apprehended for robbing a gentleman of
a watch, a sword, a whip, and nine shillings. But, fortunately for him,
the evidence was defective, and he escaped death a second time.
Now hardened in vice, he immediately recurred to his old trade. He
robbed on the highway, broke into houses, picked pockets, or performed
any act of violence or cunning by which he could procure money.
Fortune favored him long, and he went on with impunity, but was at
last apprehended for robbing Sir John Friend’s house. Upon trial the
evidence was decisive, and he received sentence of death. His friends
again interposed, and through their influence his sentence was changed
for that of banishment. Accordingly, he and several other convicts were
put on board a ship bound for Barbadoes. But they had scarcely reached
the Isle of Wight, when he excited his companions to a conspiracy, and,
having concerted their measures while the ship’s company were under
hatches, they went off with the longboat.
No sooner had he reached the shore than he abandoned his companions,
and travelled through woods and by-paths. Being in a very mean dress,
he begged when he had no opportunity to steal. Arriving, however, at
Hounslow heath, he met with a farmer, robbed him, seized his horse,
and, having mounted, set forward in quest of new spoils. This was a
fortunate day, for Dudley had not proceeded far on the heath when a
gentleman, well dressed, and better mounted than the farmer, made his
appearance. He was commanded to halt and to surrender. Dudley led him
aside into a retired thicket, exchanged clothes and horse, rifled his
pockets, and then addressed him, saying, that “he ought never to accuse
him of robbing him, for according to the old proverb, exchange was no
robbery;” so bidding him good day, he marched off for London. Arrived
there, he went in search of his old associates, who were glad to see
their friend; and who, in consequence of his fortunate adventures and
high reputation among them, conferred upon him the title of captain,
all agreeing to be subject to his commands. Thus, at the head of such
an experienced and desperate band, no part of the country was secure
from his rapine, nor any house sufficiently strong to keep him out. The
natural consequences were, that he soon became known and dreaded all
over the country.
To avoid capture, and to prevent all inquiries, he paid a visit to the
north of England, and, being one day in search of plunder, he robbed a
Dutch colonel of his horse, arms, and fine laced coat. Thus equipped,
he committed several other robberies. At length, however, he laid aside
the colonel’s habit, only using his horse, which soon became dexterous
at his new employment. But one day meeting a gentleman near Epsom,
the latter resisted the captain’s demands, and discharged his pistol
at Dudley. In the combat, however, he was victorious, wounded the
gentleman in the leg, and, having stripped him of his money, conveyed
him to the next village, that he might receive medical assistance, and
then rode off in search of new adventures. The captain and his men were
very successful in this quarter. No stage, nor coach, nor passenger,
of which they had intelligence, could escape their depredations, and
scarcely a day passed without the commission of some notorious robbery.
Captain Dudley and his men went on in a continued course of good
fortune, acquiring much wealth, but amassing little, as their
extravagance was equal to their gains. On one ill-fated day, however,
having attacked and robbed the Southampton coach, they were keenly
pursued, and several of them taken, but Dudley escaped. Deprived of
the chief part of his own forces, he now attached himself to some
housebreakers, and with them continued to commit many robberies; in
particular, with three others, he entered the house of an old woman in
Spitalfields, gagged her, bound her to a chair, and rifled the house
of a considerable sum of money, which the good woman had been long
scraping together. Hearing the money clink that was going to be taken
from her, she struggled in her chair, fell down upon her face, and was
stifled to death, while the captain and his companions went off with
impunity. But when the old woman came to be interred, a grandson of
hers, who had been one of the robbers, when about to be fitted with a
pair of mourning gloves, changed countenance, was strongly agitated,
and began to tremble. He was suspected, charged with the murder,
confessed the crime, and informing upon the rest, two of them were
taken, tried, and condemned, and the three hanged in chains.
Yet, though Dudley’s name was published as accessory to the murder, he
long escaped detection. At length, however, he was apprehended, and
charged with several robberies, of which he, by dexterous management,
evaded the deserved punishment. He was also called to stand trial for
the murder of the old woman; but the principal evidence, upon whose
testimony the other three were chiefly condemned, being absent, he
escaped suffering for that crime. The dexterous manner in which he
managed that trial, the witnesses whom he had suborned, and the manner
in which he maintained his innocence before the jury, were often the
cause of his boast and amusement.
The profligate Dudley was no sooner relieved from prison than he
hastened to join his old companions in vice. Exulting to see their
captain again at their head, they redoubled their activity, and
committed all manner of depredations. Among other adventures, they
robbed a nobleman on Hounslow heath of fifteen hundred pounds, after a
severe engagement with his servants, three of whom were wounded, and
two had their horses shot under them. They next directed their course
along the west country road, and having robbed a parson, enjoined him,
under the most terrific threats, to preach a sermon in praise of
thieving. He was forced to comply, and the sermon being ended, they
returned his money, and gave him four shillings to drink their health
and success.
After this adventure, they left off infesting the highways, and rode
for London. Arrived in the capital, the captain’s brother employed
his dexterity about town in several adventures, which go far to show
how well the brother profited by the example and instructions of the
captain. He first dressed himself as a countryman, with a pair of dirty
boots on, and a whip in his hand, and went to Bartholomew Fair, where
he wandered all the forenoon without meeting any prey. But as he was
returning, he accosted a plain countryman, saying, “Have a care, honest
friend, of your money, for we are going into a cursed place, full of
thieves, rogues, and pickpockets. I am almost ruined by them, and I am
glad that they have not pulled the teeth out of my head. Let one take
never so good care, they will be sure of his money; the devil certainly
helps them.”