CHAPTER ONE
SENTIMENT OF THE ORDINARY'S, WORTHY TO BE WRITTEN IN LETTERS OF
GOLD; A VERY EXTRAORDINARY INSTANCE OF FOLLY IN FRIENDLY, AND A
DREADFUL ACCIDENT WHICH BEFEL OUR HERO.
Heartfree had not been long in Newgate before his frequent
conversation with his children, and other instances of a good
heart, which betrayed themselves in his actions and conversation,
created an opinion in all about him that he was one of the
silliest fellows in the universe. The ordinary himself, a very
sagacious as well as very worthy person, declared that he was a
cursed rogue, but no conjuror.
What indeed might induce the former, i.e. the roguish part of this
opinion in the ordinary, was a wicked sentiment which Heartfree
one day disclosed in conversation, and which we, who are truly
orthodox, will not pretend to justify, that he believed a sincere
Turk would be saved. To this the good man, with becoming zeal and
indignation, answered, I know not what may become of a sincere
Turk; but, if this be your persuasion, I pronounce it impossible
you should be saved. No, sir; so far from a sincere Turk's being
within the pale of salvation, neither will any sincere
Presbyterian, Anabaptist, nor Quaker whatever, be saved.
But neither did the one nor the other part of this character
prevail on Friendly to abandon his old master. He spent his whole
time with him, except only those hours when he was absent for his
sake, in procuring evidence for him against his trial, which was
now shortly to come on. Indeed this young man was the only
comfort, besides a clear conscience and the hopes beyond the
grave, which this poor wretch had; for the sight of his children
was like one of those alluring pleasures which men in some
diseases indulge themselves often fatally in, which at once
flatter and heighten their malady.
Friendly being one day present while Heartfree was, with tears in
his eyes, embracing his eldest daughter, and lamenting the hard
fate to which he feared he should be obliged to leave her, spoke
to him thus: "I have long observed with admiration the magnanimity
with which you go through your own misfortunes, and the steady
countenance with which you look on death. I have observed that all
your agonies arise from the thoughts of parting with your
children, and of leaving them in a distrest condition; now, though
I hope all your fears will prove ill grounded, yet, that I may
relieve you as much as possible from them, be assured that, as
nothing can give me more real misery than to observe so tender and
loving a concern in a master, to whose goodness I owe so many
obligations, and whom I so sincerely love, so nothing can afford
me equal pleasure with my contributing to lessen or to remove it.
Be convinced, therefore, if you can place any confidence in my
promise, that I will employ my little fortune, which you know to
be not entirely inconsiderable, in the support of this your little
family. Should any misfortune, which I pray Heaven avert, happen
to you before you have better provided for these little ones, I
will be myself their father, nor shall either of them ever know
distress if it be any way in my power to prevent it. Your younger
daughter I will provide for, and as for my little prattler, your
elder, as I never yet thought of any woman for a wife, I will
receive her as such at your hands; nor will I ever relinquish her
for another." Heartfree flew to his friend, and embraced him with
raptures of acknowledgment. He vowed to him that he had eased
every anxious thought of his mind but one, and that he must carry
with him out of the world. "O Friendly!" cried he, "it is my
concern for that best of women, whom I hate myself for having ever
censured in my opinion. O Friendly! thou didst know her goodness;
yet, sure, her perfect character none but myself was ever
acquainted with. She had every perfection, both of mind and body,
which Heaven hath indulged to her whole sex, and possessed all in
a higher excellence than nature ever indulged to another in any
single virtue. Can I bear the loss of such a woman? Can I bear the
apprehensions of what mischiefs that villain may have done to her,
of which death is perhaps the lightest?" Friendly gently
interrupted him as soon as he saw any opportunity, endeavouring to
comfort him on this head likewise, by magnifying every
circumstance which could possibly afford any hopes of his seeing
her again.
By this kind of behaviour, in which the young man exemplified so
uncommon an height of friendship, he had soon obtained in the
castle the character of as odd and silly a fellow as his master.
Indeed they were both the byword, laughing-stock, and contempt of
the whole place.
The sessions now came on at the Old Bailey. The grand jury at
Hicks's-hall had found the bill of indictment against Heartfree,
and on the second day of the session he was brought to his trial;
where, notwithstanding the utmost efforts of Friendly and the
honest old female servant, the circumstances of the fact
corroborating the evidence of Fireblood, as well as that of Wild,
who counterfeited the most artful reluctance at appearing against
his old friend Heartfree, the jury found the prisoner guilty.
Wild had now accomplished his scheme; for as to remained, it was
certainly unavoidable, seeing Heartfree was entirely void of
interest with the and was besides convicted on a statute the
infringers of which could hope no pardon.
The catastrophe to which our hero had reduced this wretch was so
wonderful an effort of greatness, that it probably made Fortune
envious of her own darling; but whether it was from this envy, or
only from that known inconstancy and weakness so often and
judiciously remarked in that lady's temper, who frequently lifts
men to the summit of human greatness, only
ut lapsu graviore ruant;
certain it is, she now began to meditate mischief against Wild,
who seems to have come to that period at which all heroes have
arrived, and which she was resolved they never should transcend.
In short, there seems to be a certain measure of mischief and
iniquity which every great man is to fill up, and then Fortune
looks on him of no more use than a silkworm whose bottom is spun,
and deserts him. Mr. Blueskin was convicted the same day of
robbery, by our hero, an unkindness which, though he had drawn on
himself, and necessitated him to, he took greatly amiss: as Wild,
therefore, was standing near him, with that disregard and
indifference which great men are too carelessly inclined to have
for those whom they have ruined, Blueskin, privily drawing a
knife, thrust the same into the body of our hero with such
violence, that all who saw it concluded he had done his business.
And, indeed, had not fortune, not so much out of love to our hero
as from a fixed resolution to accomplish a certain purpose, of
which we have formerly given a hint, carefully placed his guts out
of the way, he must have fallen a sacrifice to the wrath of his
enemy, which, as he afterwards said, he did not deserve; for, had
he been contented to have robbed and only submitted to give him
the booty, he might have still continued safe and unimpeached in
the gang; but, so it was, that the knife, missing noble parts (the
noblest of many) the guts, perforated only the hollow of his
belly, and caused no other harm than an immoderate effusion of
blood, of which, though it at present weakened him, he soon after
recovered.
This accident, however, was in the end attended with worse
consequences: for, as very few people (those greatest of all men,
absolute princes excepted) attempt to cut the thread of human
life, like the fetal sisters, merely out of wantonness and for
their diversion, but rather by so doing propose to themselves the
acquisition of some future good, or the avenging some past evil;
and as the former of these motives did not appear probable, it put
inquisitive persons on examining into the latter. Now, as the vast
schemes of Wild, when they were discovered, however great in their
nature, seemed to some persons, like the projects of most other
such persons, rather to be calculated for the glory of the great
man himself than to redound to the general good of society,
designs began to be laid by several of those who thought it
principally their duty to put a stop to the future progress of our
hero; and a learned judge particularly, a great enemy to this kind
of greatness, procured a clause in an Act of Parliament a trap for
Wild, which he soon after fell into. By this law it was made
capital in a prig to steal with the hands of other people. A law
so plainly calculated for the destruction of all priggish
greatness, that it was indeed impossible for our hero to avoid it.
CHAPTER TWO
A SHORT HINT CONCERNING POPULAR INGRATITUDE. MR. WILD'S ARRIVAL IN
THE CASTLE, WITH OTHER OCCURRENCES TO BE FOUND IN NO OTHER
HISTORY.
If we had any leisure we would here digress a little on that
ingratitude which so many writers have observed to spring up in
the people in all free governments towards their great men; who,
while they have been consulting the good of the public, by raising
their own greatness, in which the whole body (as the kingdom of
France thinks itself in the glory of their grand monarch) was so
deeply concerned, have been sometimes sacrificed by those very
people for whose glory the said great men were so industriously at
work: and this from a foolish zeal for a certain ridiculous
imaginary thing called liberty, to which great men are observed to
have a great animosity.
This law had been promulgated a very little time when Mr. Wild,
having received from some dutiful members of the gang a valuable
piece of goods, did, for a consideration somewhat short of its
original price, re-convey it to the right owner; for which fact,
being ungratefully informed against by the said owner, he was
surprized in his own house, and, being overpowered by numbers, was
hurried before a magistrate, and by him committed to that castle,
which, suitable as it is to greatness, we do not chuse to name too
often in our history, and where many great men at this time
happened to be assembled.
The governor, or, as the law more honourably calls him, keeper of
this castle, was Mr. Wild's old friend and acquaintance. This made
the latter greatly satisfied with the place of his confinement, as
he promised himself not only a kind reception and handsome
accommodation there, but even to obtain his liberty from him if he
thought it necessary to desire it: but, alas! he was deceived; his
old friend knew him no longer, and refused to see him, and the
lieutenant-governor insisted on as high garnish for fetters, and
as exorbitant a price for lodging, as if he had had a fine
gentleman in custody for murder, or any other genteel crime.
To confess a melancholy truth, it is a circumstance much to be
lamented, that there is no absolute dependence on the friendship
of great men; an observation which hath been frequently made by
those who have lived in courts, or in Newgate, or in any other
place set apart for the habitation of such persons.
The second day of his confinement he was greatly surprized at
receiving a visit from his wife; and more so, when, instead of a
countenance ready to insult him, the only motive to which he could
ascribe her presence, he saw the tears trickling down her lovely
cheeks. He embraced her with the utmost marks of affection, and
declared he could hardly regret his confinement, since it had
produced such an instance of the happiness he enjoyed in her,
whose fidelity to him on this occasion would, be believed, make
him the envy of most husbands, even in Newgate. He then begged her
to dry her eyes, and be comforted; for that matters might go
better with him than she expected. "No, no," says she, "I am
certain you would be found guilty. DEATH. I knew what it would
always come to. I told you it was impossible to carry on such a
trade long; but you would not be advised, and now you see the
consequence-now you repent when it is too late. All the comfort I
shall have when you are NUBBED [Footnote: The cant word for
hanging.] is, that I gave you a good advice. If you had always
gone out by yourself, as I would have had you, you might have
robbed on to the end of the chapter; but you was wiser than all
the world, or rather lazier, and see what your laziness is come
to--to the CHEAT, [Footnote: The gallows.] for thither you will go
now, that's infallible. And a just judgment on you for following
your headstrong will; I am the only person to be pitied; poor I,
who shall be scandalised for your fault. THERE GOES SHE WHOSE
HUSBAND WAS HANGED: methinks I hear them crying so already." At
which words she burst into tears. He could not then forbear
chiding her for this unnecessary concern on his account, and
begged her not to trouble him any more. She answered with some
spirit, "On your account, and be d--d to you! No, if the old cull
of a justice had not sent me hither, I believe it would have been
long enough before I should have come hither to see after you; d--
n me, I am committed for the FILINGLAY, [Footnote: Picking
pockets.] man, and we shall be both nubbed together. 'I faith, my
dear, it almost makes me amends for being nubbed myself, to have
the pleasure of seeing thee nubbed too." "Indeed, my dear,"
answered Wild, "it is what I have long wished for thee; but I do
not desire to bear thee company, and I have still hopes to have
the pleasure of seeing you go without me; at least I will have the
pleasure to be rid of you now." And so saying, he seized her by
the waist, and with strong arm flung her out of the room; but not
before she had with her nails left a bloody memorial on his cheek:
and thus this fond couple parted.
Wild had scarce recovered himself from the uneasiness into which
this unwelcome visit, proceeding from the disagreeable fondness of
his wife, had thrown him, than the faithful Achates appeared. The
presence of this youth was indeed a cordial to his spirits. He
received him with open arms, and expressed the utmost satisfaction
in the fidelity of his friendship, which so far exceeded the
fashion of the times, and said many things which we have forgot on
the occasion; but we remember they all tended to the praise of
Fireblood, whose modesty, at length, put a stop to the torrent of
compliments, by asserting he had done no more than his duty, and
that he should have detested himself could he have forsaken his
friend in his adversity; and, after many protestations that he
came the moment he heard of his misfortune, he asked him if he
could be of any service. Wild answered, since he had so kindly
proposed that question, he must say he should be obliged to him if
he could lend him a few guineas; for that he was very seedy.
Fireblood replied that he was greatly unhappy in not having it
then in his power, adding many hearty oaths that he had not a
farthing of money in his pocket, which was, indeed, strictly true;
for he had only a bank-note, which he had that evening purloined
from a gentleman in the playhouse passage. He then asked for his
wife, to whom, to speak truly, the visit was intended, her
confinement being the misfortune of which he had just heard; for,
as for that of Mr. Wild himself, he had known it from the first
minute, without ever intending to trouble him with his company.
Being informed therefore of the visit which had lately happened,
he reproved Wild for his cruel treatment of that good creature;
then, taking as sudden a leave as he civilly could of the
gentleman, he hastened to comfort his lady, who received him with
great kindness.
CHAPTER THREE
CURIOUS ANECDOTES RELATING TO THE HISTORY OF NEWGATE.
There resided in the castle at the same time with Mr. Wild one
Roger Johnson, a very GREAT MAN, who had long been at the head of
all the prigs in Newgate, and had raised contributions on them. He
examined into the nature of their defence, procured and instructed
their evidence, and made himself, at least in their opinion, so
necessary to them, that the whole fate of Newgate seemed entirely
to depend upon him.
Wild had not been long in confinement before he began to oppose
this man. He represented him to the prigs as a fellow who, under
the plausible pretence of assisting their causes, was in reality
undermining THE LIBERTIES OF NEWGATE. He at first threw out
certain sly hints and insinuations; but, having by degrees formed
a party against Roger, he one day assembled them together, and
spoke to them in the following florid manner:
"Friends and fellow-citizens,--The cause which I am to mention to
you this day is of such mighty importance, that when I consider my
own small abilities, I tremble with an apprehension lest your
safety may be rendered precarious by the weakness of him who hath
undertaken to represent to you your danger. Gentlemen, the liberty
of Newgate is at stake; your privileges have been long undermined,
and are now openly violated by one man; by one who hath engrossed
to himself the whole conduct of your trials, under colour of which
he exacts what contributions on you he pleases; but are those sums
appropriated to the uses for which they are raised? Your frequent
convictions at the Old Bailey, those depredations of justice, must
too sensibly and sorely demonstrate the contrary. What evidence
doth he ever produce for the prisoner which the prisoner himself
could not have provided, and often better instructed? How many
noble youths have there been lost when a single alibi would have
saved them! Should I be silent, nay, could your own injuries want
a tongue to remonstrate, the very breath which by his neglect hath
been stopped at the cheat would cry out loudly against him. Nor is
the exorbitancy of his plunders visible only in the dreadful
consequences it hath produced to the prigs, nor glares it only in
the miseries brought on them: it blazes forth in the more
desirable effects it hath wrought for himself, in the rich
perquisites acquired by it: witness that silk nightgown, that robe
of shame, which, to his eternal dishonour, he publicly wears; that
gown which I will not scruple to call the winding-sheet of the
liberties of Newgate. Is there a prig who hath the interest and
honour of Newgate so little at heart that he can refrain from
blushing when he beholds that trophy, purchased with the breath of
so many prigs? Nor is this all. His waistcoat embroidered with
silk, and his velvet cap, bought with the same price, are ensigns
of the same disgrace. Some would think the rags which covered his
nakedness when first he was committed hither well exchanged for
these gaudy trappings; but in my eye no exchange can be profitable
when dishonour is the condition. If, therefore, Newgate--" Here the
only copy which we could procure of this speech breaks off
abruptly; however, we can assure the reader, from very authentic
information, that he concluded with advising the prigs to put
their affairs into other hands. After which, one of his party, as
had been before concerted, in a very long speech recommended him
(Wild himself) to their choice.
Newgate was divided into parties on this occasion, the prigs on
each side representing their chief or great man to be the only
person by whom the affairs of Newgate could be managed with safety
and advantage. The prigs had indeed very incompatible interests;
for, whereas the supporters of Johnson, who was in possession of
the plunder of Newgate, were admitted to some share under their
leader, so the abettors of Wild had, on his promotion, the same
views of dividing some part of the spoil among themselves. It is
no wonder, therefore, they were both so warm on each side. What
may seem more remarkable was, that the debtors, who were entirely
unconcerned in the dispute, and who were the destined plunder of
both parties, should interest themselves with the utmost violence,
some on behalf of Wild, and others in favour of Johnson. So that
all Newgate resounded with WILD for ever, JOHNSON for ever. And
the poor debtors re-echoed THE LIBERTIES OF NEWGATE, which, in the
cant language, signifies plunder, as loudly as the thieves
themselves. In short, such quarrels and animosities happened
between them, that they seemed rather the people of two countries
long at war with each other than the inhabitants of the same
castle.
Wild's party at length prevailed, and he succeeded to the place
and power of Johnson, whom he presently stripped of all his
finery; but, when it was proposed that he should sell it and
divide the money for the good of the whole, he waved that motion,
saying it was not yet time, that he should find a better
opportunity, that the cloathes wanted cleaning, with many other
pretences, and within two days, to the surprize of many, he
appeared in them himself; for which he vouchsafed no other apology
than that they fitted him much better than they did Johnson, and
that they became him in a much more elegant manner.
This behaviour of Wild greatly incensed the debtors, particularly
those by whose means he had been promoted. They grumbled
extremely, and vented great indignation against Wild; when one day
a very grave man, and one of much authority among them, bespake
them as follows:
"Nothing sure can be more justly ridiculous than the conduct of
those who should lay the lamb in the wolfs way, and then should
lament his being devoured. What a wolf is in a sheep-fold, a great
man is in society. Now, when one wolf is in possession of a sheep-
fold, how little would it avail the simple flock to expel him and
place another in his stead! Of the same benefit to us is the
overthrowing one prig in favour of another. And for what other
advantage was your struggle? Did you not all know that Wild and
his followers were prigs, as well as Johnson and his? What then
could the contention be among such but that which you have now
discovered it to have been? Perhaps some would say, Is it then our
duty tamely to submit to the rapine of the prig who now plunders
us for fear of an exchange? Surely no: but I answer, It is better
to shake the plunder off than to exchange the plunderer. And by
what means can we effect this but by a total change in our
manners? Every prig is a slave. His own priggish desires, which
enslave him, themselves betray him to the tyranny of others. To
preserve, therefore, the liberty of Newgate is to change the
manners of Newgate. Let us, therefore, who are confined here for
debt only, separate ourselves entirely from the prigs; neither
drink with them nor converse with them. Let us at the same time
separate ourselves farther from priggism itself. Instead of being
ready, on every opportunity, to pillage each other, let us be
content with our honest share of the common bounty, and with the
acquisition of our own industry. When we separate from the prigs,
let us enter into a closer alliance with one another. Let us
consider ourselves all as members of one community, to the public
good of which we are to sacrifice our private views; not to give
up the interest of the whole for every little pleasure or profit
which shall accrue to ourselves. Liberty is consistent with no
degree of honesty inferior to this, and the community where this
abounds no prig will have the impudence or audaciousness to
endeavour to enslave; or if he should, his own destruction would
be the only consequence of his attempt. But while one man pursues
his ambition, another his interest, another his safety; while one
hath a roguery (a priggism they here call it) to commit, and
another a roguery to defend; they must naturally fly to the favour
and protection of those who have power to give them what they
desire, and to defend them from what they fear; nay, in this view
it becomes their interest to promote this power in their patrons.
Now, gentlemen, when we are no longer prigs, we shall no longer
have these fears or these desires. What remains, therefore, for us
but to resolve bravely to lay aside our priggism, our roguery, in
plainer words, and preserve our liberty, or to give up the latter
in the preservation and preference of the former?"
This speech was received with much applause; however, Wild
continued as before to levy contributions among the prisoners, to
apply the garnish to his own use, and to strut openly in the
ornaments which he had stripped from Johnson. To speak sincerely,
there was more bravado than real use or advantage in these
trappings. As for the nightgown, its outside indeed made a
glittering tinsel appearance, but it kept him not warm, nor could
the finery of it do him much honour, since every one knew it did
not properly belong to him; as to the waistcoat, it fitted him
very ill, being infinitely too big for him; and the cap was so
heavy that it made his head ache. Thus these cloathes, which
perhaps (as they presented the idea of their misery more sensibly
to the people's eyes) brought him more envy, hatred, and
detraction, than all his deeper impositions and more real
advantages, afforded very little use or honour to the wearer; nay,
could scarce serve to amuse his own vanity when this was cool
enough to reflect with the least seriousness. And, should I speak
in the language of a man who estimated human happiness without
regard to that greatness, which we have so laboriously endeavoured
to paint in this history, it is probable he never took (i.e.
robbed the prisoners of) a shilling, which he himself did not pay
too dear for.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE DEAD-WARRANT ARRIVES FOR HEARTFREE; ON WHICH OCCASION WILD
BETRAYS SOME HUMAN WEAKNESS.
The dead-warrant, as it is called, now came down to Newgate for
the execution of Heartfree among the rest of the prisoners. And
here the reader must excuse us, who profess to draw natural, not
perfect characters, and to record the truths of history, not the
extravagances of romance, while we relate a weakness in Wild of
which we are ourselves ashamed, and which we would willingly have
concealed, could we have preserved at the same time that strict
attachment to truth and impartiality, which we have professed in
recording the annals of this great man. Know then, reader, that
this dead-warrant did not affect Heartfree, who was to suffer a
shameful death by it, with half the concern it gave Wild, who had
been the occasion of it. He had been a little struck the day
before on seeing the children carried away in tears from their
father. This sight brought the remembrance of some slight injuries
he had done the father to his mind, which he endeavoured as much
as possible to obliterate; but, when one of the keepers (I should
say lieutenants of the castle) repeated Heartfree's name among
those of the malefactors who were to suffer within a few days, the
blood forsook his countenance, and in a cold still stream moved
heavily to his heart, which had scarce strength enough left to
return it through his veins. In short, his body so visibly
demonstrated the pangs of his mind, that to escape observation he
retired to his room, where he sullenly gave vent to such bitter
agonies, that even the injured Heartfree, had not the apprehension
of what his wife had suffered shut every avenue of compassion,
would have pitied him.
When his mind was thoroughly fatigued, and worn out with the
horrors which the approaching fate of the poor wretch, who lay
under a sentence which he had iniquitously brought upon him, had
suggested, sleep promised him relief; but this promise was, alas!
delusive. This certain friend to the tired body is often the
severest enemy to the oppressed mind. So at least it proved to
Wild, adding visionary to real horrors, and tormenting his
imagination with phantoms too dreadful to be described. At length,
starting from these visions, he no sooner recovered his waking
senses, than he cryed out--"I may yet prevent this catastrophe. It
is not too late to discover the whole." He then paused a moment;
but greatness, instantly returning to his assistance, checked the
base thought, as it first offered itself to his mind. He then
reasoned thus coolly with himself:--"Shall I, like a child, or a
woman, or one of those mean wretches whom I have always despised,
be frightened by dreams and visionary phantoms to sully that
honour which I have so difficultly acquired and so gloriously
maintained? Shall I, to redeem the worthless life of this silly
fellow, suffer my reputation to contract a stain which the blood
of millions cannot wipe away? Was it only that the few, the simple
part of mankind, should call me a rogue, perhaps I could submit;
but to be for ever contemptible to the prigs, as a wretch who
wanted spirit to execute my undertaking, can never be digested.
What is the life of a single man? Have not whole armies and
nations been sacrificed to the honour of ONE GREAT MAN? Nay, to
omit that first class of greatness, the conquerors of mankind, how
often have numbers fallen by a fictitious plot only to satisfy the
spleen, or perhaps exercise the ingenuity, of a member of that
second order of greatness the ministerial! What have I done then?
Why, I have ruined a family, and brought an innocent man to the
gallows. I ought rather to weep with Alexander that I have ruined
no more, than to regret the little I have done." He at length,
therefore, bravely resolved to consign over Heartfree to his fate,
though it cost him more struggling than may easily be believed,
utterly to conquer his reluctance, and to banish away every degree
of humanity from his mind, these little sparks of which composed
one of those weaknesses which we lamented in the opening of our
history.
But, in vindication of our hero, we must beg leave to observe that
Nature is seldom so kind as those writers who draw characters
absolutely perfect. She seldom creates any man so completely
great, or completely low, but that some sparks of humanity will
glimmer in the former, and some sparks of what the vulgar call
evil will dart forth in the latter: utterly to extinguish which
will give some pain, and uneasiness to both; for I apprehend no
mind was ever yet formed entirely free from blemish, unless
peradventure that of a sanctified hypocrite, whose praises some
well-fed flatterer hath gratefully thought proper to sing forth.
CHAPTER FIVE
CONTAINING VARIOUS MATTERS.
The day was now come when poor Heartfree was to suffer an
ignominious death. Friendly had in the strongest manner confirmed
his assurance of fulfilling his promise of becoming a father to
one of his children and a husband to the other. This gave him
inexpressible comfort, and he had, the evening before, taken his
last leave of the little wretches with a tenderness which drew a
tear from one of the keepers, joined to a magnanimity which would
have pleased a stoic. When he was informed that the coach which
Friendly had provided for him was ready, and that the rest of the
prisoners were gone, he embraced that faithful friend with great
passion, and begged that he would leave him here; but the other
desired leave to accompany him to his end, which at last he was
forced to comply with. And now he was proceeding towards the coach
when he found his difficulties were not yet over; for now a friend
arrived of whom he was to take a harder and more tender leave than
he had yet gone through. This friend, reader, was no other than
Mrs. Heartfree herself, who ran to him with a look all wild,
staring, and frantic, and having reached his arms, fainted away in
them without uttering a single syllable. Heartfree was, with great
difficulty, able to preserve his own senses in such a surprize at
such a season. And indeed our good-natured reader will be rather
inclined to wish this miserable couple had, by dying in each
other's arms, put a final period to their woes, than have survived
to taste those bitter moments which were to be their portion, and
which the unhappy wife, soon recovering from the short
intermission of being, now began to suffer. When she became first
mistress of her voice she burst forth into the following accents:--
"O my husband! Is this the condition in which I find you after
our cruel separation? Who hath done this? Cruel Heaven! What is
the occasion? I know thou canst deserve no ill. Tell me, somebody
who can speak, while I have my senses left to understand, what is
the matter?" At which words several laughed, and one answered,
"The matter! Why no great matter. The gentleman is not the first,
nor won't be the last: the worst of the matter is, that if we are
to stay all the morning here I shall lose my dinner." Heartfree,
pausing a moment and recollecting himself, cryed out, "I will bear
all with patience." And then, addressing himself to the commanding
officer, begged he might only have a few minutes by himself with
his wife, whom he had not seen before since his misfortunes. The
great man answered, "He had compassion on him, and would do more
than he could answer; but he supposed he was too much a gentleman
not to know that something was due for such civility." On this
hint, Friendly, who was himself half dead, pulled five guineas out
of his pocket, which the great man took, and said he would be so
generous to give him ten minutes; on which one observed that many
a gentleman had bought ten minutes with a woman dearer, and many
other facetious remarks were made, unnecessary to be here related.
Heartfree was now suffered to retire into a room with his wife,
the commander informing him at his entrance that he must be
expeditious, for that the rest of the good company would be at the
tree before him, and he supposed he was a gentleman of too much
breeding to make them wait.
This tender wretched couple were now retired for these few
minutes, which the commander without carefully measured with his
watch; and Heartfree was mustering all his resolution to part with
what his soul so ardently doated on, and to conjure her to support
his loss for the sake of her poor infants, and to comfort her with
the promise of Friendly on their account; but all his design was
frustrated. Mrs. Heartfree could not support the shock, but again
fainted away, and so entirely lost every symptom of life that
Heartfree called vehemently for assistance. Friendly rushed first
into the room, and was soon followed by many others, and, what was
remarkable, one who had unmoved beheld the tender scene between
these parting lovers was touched to the quick by the pale looks of
the woman, and ran up and down for water, drops, &c., with the
utmost hurry and confusion. The ten minutes were expired, which
the commander now hinted; and seeing nothing offered for the
renewal of the term (for indeed Friendly had unhappily emptied his
pockets), he began to grow very importunate, and at last told
Heartfree he should be ashamed not to act more like a man.
Heartfree begged his pardon, and said he would make him wait no
longer. Then, with the deepest sigh, cryed, "Oh, my angel!" and,
embracing his wife with the utmost eagerness, kissed her pale lips
with more fervency than ever bridegroom did the blushing cheeks of
his bride. He then cryed, "The Almighty bless thee! and, if it be
his pleasure, restore thee to life; if not, I beseech him we may
presently meet again in a better world than this." He was breaking
from her, when, perceiving her sense returning, he could not
forbear renewing his embrace, and again pressing her lips, which
now recovered life and warmth so fast that he begged one ten
minutes more to tell her what her swooning had prevented her
hearing. The worthy commander, being perhaps a little touched at
this tender scene, took Friendly aside, and asked him what he
would give if he would suffer his friend to remain half-an-hour?
Friendly answered, anything; that he had no more money in his
pocket, but he would certainly pay him that afternoon. "Well,
then, I'll be moderate," said he; "twenty guineas." Friendly
answered, "It is a bargain." The commander, having exacted a firm
promise, cryed, "Then I don't care if they stay a whole hour
together; for what signifies hiding good news? the gentleman is
reprieved;" of which he had just before received notice in a
whisper. It would be very impertinent to offer at a description of
the joy this occasioned to the two friends, or to Mrs. Heartfree,
who was now again recovered. A surgeon, who was happily present,
was employed to bleed them all. After which the commander, who had
his promise of the money again confirmed to him, wished Heartfree
joy, and, shaking him very friendly by the hands, cleared the room
of all the company, and left the three friends together.
CHAPTER SIX
IN WHICH THE FOREGOING HAPPY INCIDENT IS ACCOUNTED FOR.
But here, though I am convinced my good-natured reader may almost
want the surgeon's assistance also, and that there is no passage
in this whole story which can afford him equal delight, yet, lest
our reprieve should seem to resemble that in the Beggars' Opera, I
shall endeavour to shew him that this incident, which is
undoubtedly true, is at least as natural as delightful; for we
assure him we would rather have suffered half mankind to be
hanged, than have saved one contrary to the strictest rules of
writing and probability.
Be it known, then (a circumstance which I think highly credible),
that the great Fireblood had been, a few days before, taken in the
fact of a robbery, and carried before the same justice of peace
who had, on his evidence, committed Heartfree to prison. This
magistrate, who did indeed no small honour to the commission he
bore, duly considered the weighty charge committed to him, by
which he was entrusted with decisions affecting the lives,
liberties, and properties of his countrymen. He therefore examined
always with the utmost diligence and caution into every minute
circumstance. And, as he had a good deal balanced, even when he
committed Heartfree, on the excellent character given him by
Friendly and the maid; and as he was much staggered on finding
that, of the two persons on whose evidence alone Heartfree had
been committed, and had been since convicted, one was in Newgate
for a felony, and the other was now brought before him for a
robbery, he thought proper to put the matter very home to
Fireblood at this time. The young Achates was taken, as we have
said, in the fact; so that denial he saw was in vain. He therefore
honestly confessed what he knew must be proved; and desired, on
the merit of the discoveries he made, to be admitted as an
evidence against his accomplices. This afforded the happiest
opportunity to the justice to satisfy his conscience in relation
to Heartfree. He told Fireblood that, if he expected the favour he
solicited, it must be on condition that he revealed the whole
truth to him concerning the evidence which he had lately given
against a bankrupt, and which some circumstances had induced a
suspicion of; that he might depend on it the truth would be
discovered by other means, and gave some oblique hints (a deceit
entirely justifiable) that Wild himself had offered such a
discovery. The very mention of Wild's name immediately alarmed
Fireblood, who did not in the least doubt the readiness of that
GREAT MAN to hang any of the gang when his own interest seemed to
require it. He therefore hesitated not a moment; but, having
obtained a promise from the justice that he should be accepted as
an evidence, he discovered the whole falsehood, and declared that
he had been seduced by Wild to depose as he had done.
The justice, having thus luckily and timely discovered this scene
of villany, alias greatness, lost not a moment in using his utmost
endeavours to get the case of the unhappy convict represented to
the sovereign, who immediately granted him that gracious reprieve
which caused such happiness to the persons concerned; and which we
hope we have now accounted for to the satisfaction of the reader.
The good magistrate, having obtained this reprieve for Heartfree,
thought it incumbent on him to visit him in the prison, and to
sound, if possible, the depth of this affair, that, if he should
appear as innocent as he now began to conceive him, he might use
all imaginable methods to obtain his pardon and enlargement.
The next day therefore after that when the miserable scene above
described had passed, he went to Newgate, where he found those
three persons, namely, Heartfree, his wife, and Friendly, sitting
together. The justice informed the prisoner of the confession of
Fireblood, with the steps which he had taken upon it. The reader
will easily conceive the many outward thanks, as well as inward
gratitude, which he received from all three; but those were of
very little consequence to him compared with the secret
satisfaction he felt in his mind from reflecting on the
preservation of innocence, as he soon after very clearly perceived
was the case.
When he entered the room Mrs. Heartfree was speaking with some
earnestness: as he perceived, therefore, he had interrupted her,
he begged she would continue her discourse, which, if he prevented
by his presence, he desired to depart; but Heartfree would not
suffer it. He said she had been relating some adventures which
perhaps, might entertain him to hear, and which she the rather
desired he would hear, as they might serve to illustrate the
foundation on which this falsehood had been built, which had
brought on her husband all his misfortunes.
The justice very gladly consented, and Mrs. Heartfree, at her
husband's desire, began the relation from the first renewal of
Wild's acquaintance with him; but, though this recapitulation was
necessary for the information of our good magistrate, as it would
be useless, and perhaps tedious, to the reader, we shall only
repeat that part of her story to which he is only a stranger,
beginning with what happened to her after Wild had been turned
adrift in the boat by the captain of the French privateer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MRS. HEARTFREE RELATES HER ADVENTURES.
Mrs. Heartfree proceeded thus: "The vengeance which the French
captain exacted on that villain (our hero) persuaded me that I was
fallen into the hands of a man of honour and justice; nor indeed
was it possible for any person to be treated with more respect and
civility than I now was; but if this could not mitigate my sorrows
when I reflected on the condition in which I had been betrayed to
leave all that was dear to me, much less could it produce such an
effect when I discovered, as I soon did, that I owed it chiefly to
a passion which threatened me with great uneasiness, as it quickly
appeared to be very violent, and as I was absolutely in the power
of the person who possessed it, or was rather possessed by it. I
must however do him the justice to say my fears carried my
suspicions farther than I afterwards found I had any reason to
carry them: he did indeed very soon acquaint me with his passion,
and used all those gentle methods which frequently succeed with
our sex to prevail with me to gratify it; but never once
threatened, nor had the least recourse to force. He did not even
once insinuate to me that I was totally in his power, which I
myself sufficiently saw, and whence I drew the most dreadful
apprehensions, well knowing that, as there are some dispositions
so brutal that cruelty adds a zest and savour to their pleasures,
so there are others whose gentler inclinations are better
gratified when they win us by softer methods to comply with their
desires; yet that even these may be often compelled by an unruly
passion to have recourse at last to the means of violence, when
they despair of success from persuasion; but I was happily the
captive of a better man. My conqueror was one of those over whom
vice hath a limited jurisdiction; and, though he was too easily
prevailed on to sin, he was proof against any temptation to
villany.
"We had been two days almost totally becalmed, when, a brisk gale
rising as we were in sight in Dunkirk, we saw a vessel making full
sail towards us. The captain of the privateer was so strong that
he apprehended no danger but from a man-of-war, which the sailors
discerned this not to be. He therefore struck his colours, and
furled his sails as much as possible, in order to lie by and
expect her, hoping she might be a prize." (Here Heartfree smiling,
his wife stopped and inquired the cause. He told her it was from
her using the sea-terms so aptly: she laughed, and answered he
would wonder less at this when he heard the long time she had been
on board; and then proceeded.) "This vessel now came alongside of
us, and hailed us, having perceived that on which we were aboard
to be of her own country; they begged us not to put into Dunkirk,
but to accompany them in their pursuit of a large English
merchantman, whom we should easily overtake, and both together as
easily conquer. Our captain immediately consented to this
proposition, and ordered all his sail to be crowded. This was most
unwelcome news to me; however, he comforted me all he could by
assuring me I had nothing to fear, that he would be so far from
offering the least rudeness to me himself, that he would, at the
hazard of his life, protect me from it. This assurance gave me all
the consolation which my present circumstances and the dreadful
apprehensions I had on your dear account would admit." (At which
words the tenderest glances passed on both sides between the
husband and wife.)
"We sailed near twelve hours, when we came in sight of the ship we
were in pursuit of, and which we should probably have soon come up
with had not a very thick mist ravished her from our eyes. This
mist continued several hours, and when it cleared up we discovered
our companion at a great distance from us; but what gave us (I
mean the captain and his crew) the greatest uneasiness was the
sight of a very large ship within a mile of us, which presently
saluted us with a gun, and now appeared to be a third-rate English
man-of-war. Our captain declared the impossibility of either
fighting or escaping, and accordingly struck without waiting for
the broadside which was preparing for us, and which perhaps would
have prevented me from the happiness I now enjoy." This occasioned
Heartfree to change colour; his wife therefore passed hastily to
circumstances of a more smiling complexion.
"I greatly rejoiced at this event, as I thought it would not only
restore me to the safe possession of my jewels, but to what I
value beyond all the treasure in the universe. My expectation,
however, of both these was somewhat crost for the present: as to
the former, I was told they should be carefully preserved; but
that I must prove my right to them before I could expect their
restoration, which, if I mistake not, the captain did not very
eagerly desire I should be able to accomplish: and as to the
latter, I was acquainted that I should be put on board the first
ship which they met on her way to England, but that they were
proceeding to the West Indies.
"I had not been long on board the man-of-war before I discovered
just reason rather to lament than rejoice at the exchange of my
captivity; for such I concluded my present situation to be. I had
now another lover in the captain of this Englishman, and much
rougher and less gallant than the Frenchman had been. He used me
with scarce common civility, as indeed he shewed very little to
any other person, treating his officers little better than a man
of no great good-breeding would exert to his meanest servant, and
that too on some very irritating provocation. As for me, he
addressed me with the insolence of a basha to a Circassian slave;
he talked to me with the loose licence in which the most
profligate libertines converse with harlots, and which women
abandoned only in a moderate degree detest and abhor. He often
kissed me with very rude familiarity, and one day attempted
further brutality; when a gentleman on board, and who was in my
situation, that is, had been taken by a privateer and was retaken,
rescued me from his hands, for which the captain confined him,
though he was not under his command, two days in irons: when he
was released (for I was not suffered to visit him in his
confinement) I went to him and thanked him with the utmost
acknowledgment for what he had done and suffered on my account.
The gentleman behaved to me in the handsomest manner on this
occasion; told me he was ashamed of the high sense I seemed to
entertain of so small an obligation of an action to which his duty
as a Christian and his honour as a man obliged him. From this time
I lived in great familiarity with this man, whom I regarded as my
protector, which he professed himself ready to be on all
occasions, expressing the utmost abhorrence of the captain's
brutality, especially that shewn towards me, and the tenderness of
a parent for the preservation of my virtue, for which I was not
myself more solicitous than he appeared. He was, indeed, the only
man I had hitherto met since my unhappy departure who did not
endeavour by all his looks, words, and actions, to assure me he
had a liking to my unfortunate person; the rest seeming desirous
of sacrificing the little beauty they complimented to their
desires, without the least consideration of the ruin which I
earnestly represented to them they were attempting to bring on me
and on my future repose.
"I now passed several days pretty free from the captain's
molestation, till one fatal night." Here, perceiving Heartfree
grew pale, she comforted him by an assurance that Heaven had
preserved her chastity, and again had restored her unsullied to
his arms. She continued thus: "Perhaps I give it a wrong epithet
in the word fatal; but a wretched night I am sure I may call it,
for no woman who came off victorious was, I believe, ever in
greater danger. One night I say, having drank his spirits high
with punch, in company with the purser, who was the only man in
the ship he admitted to his table, the captain sent for me into
his cabin; whither, though unwilling, I was obliged to go. We were
no sooner alone together than he seized me by the hand, and, after
affronting my ears with discourse which I am unable to repeat, he
swore a great oath that his passion was to be dallied with no
longer; that I must not expect to treat him in the manner to which
a set of blockhead land-men submitted. 'None of your coquette
airs, therefore, with me, madam,' said he, 'for I am resolved to
have you this night. No struggling nor squalling, for both will be
impertinent. The first man who offers to come in here, I will have
his skin flea'd off at the gangway.' He then attempted to pull me
violently towards his bed. I threw myself on my knees, and with
tears and entreaties besought his compassion; but this was, I
found, to no purpose: I then had recourse to threats, and
endeavoured to frighten him with the consequence; but neither had
this, though it seemed to stagger him more than the other method,
sufficient force to deliver me. At last a stratagem came into my
head, of which my perceiving him reel gave me the first hint. I
entreated a moment's reprieve only, when, collecting all the
spirits I could muster, I put on a constrained air of gayety, and
told him, with an affected laugh, he was the roughest lover I had
ever met with, and that I believed I was the first woman he had
ever paid his addresses to. Addresses, said he; d--n your dresses!
I want to undress you. I then begged him to let us drink some
punch together; for that I loved a can as well as himself, and
never would grant the favour to any man till I had drank a hearty
glass with him. O! said he, if that be all you shall have punch
enough to drown yourself in. At which words he rung the bell, and
ordered in a gallon of that liquor. I was in the meantime obliged
to suffer his nauseous kisses, and some rudenesses which I had
great difficulty to restrain within moderate bounds. When the
punch came in he took up the bowl and drank my health
ostentatiously, in such a quantity that it considerably advanced
my scheme. I followed him with bumpers as fast as possible, and
was myself obliged to drink so much that at another time it would
have staggered my own reason, but at present it did not affect me.
At length, perceiving him very far gone, I watched an opportunity,
and ran out of the cabin, resolving to seek protection of the sea
if I could find no other; but Heaven was now graciously pleased to
relieve me; for in his attempt to pursue me he reeled backwards,
and, falling down the cabbin stairs, he dislocated his shoulder
and so bruised himself that I was not only preserved that night
from any danger of my intended ravisher, but the accident threw
him into a fever which endangered his life, and whether he ever
recovered or no I am not certain; for during his delirious fits
the eldest lieutenant commanded the ship. This was a virtuous and
a brave fellow, who had been twenty-five years in that post
without being able to obtain a ship, and had seen several boys,
the bastards of noblemen, put over his head. One day while the
ship remained under his command an English vessel bound to Cork
passed by; myself and my friend, who had formerly lain two days in
irons on my account, went on board this ship with the leave of the
good lieutenant, who made us such presents as he was able of
provisions, and, congratulating me on my delivery from a danger to
which none of the ship's crew had been strangers, he kindly wished
us both a safe voyage."
CHAPTER EIGHT
IN WHICH MRS. HEARTFREE CONTINUES THE RELATION OF HER ADVENTURES.
The first evening after we were aboard this vessel, which was a
brigantine, we being then at no very great distance from the
Madeiras, the most violent storm arose from the northwest, in
which we presently lost both our masts; and indeed death now
presented itself as inevitable to us: I need not tell my Tommy
what were then my thoughts. Our danger was so great that the
captain of the ship, a professed atheist, betook himself to
prayers, and the whole crew, abandoning themselves for lost, fell
with the utmost eagerness to the emptying a cask of brandy, not
one drop of which they swore should be polluted with salt water. I
observed here my old friend displayed less courage than I expected
from him. He seemed entirely swallowed up in despair. But Heaven
be praised! we were all at last preserved. The storm, after above
eleven hours' continuance, began to abate, and by degrees entirely
ceased, but left us still rolling at the mercy of the waves, which
carried us at their own pleasure to the south-east a vast number
of leagues. Our crew were all dead drunk with the brandy which
they had taken such care to preserve from the sea; but, indeed,
had they been awake, their labour would have been of very little
service, as we had lost all our rigging, our brigantine being
reduced to a naked hulk only. In this condition we floated above
thirty hours, till in the midst of a very dark night we spied a
light, which seeming to approach us, grew so large that our
sailors concluded it to be the lantern of a man of war; but when
we were cheering ourselves with the hopes of our deliverance from
this wretched situation, on a sudden, to our great concern, the
light entirely disappeared, and left us in despair encreased by
the remembrance of those pleasing imaginations with which we had
entertained our minds during its appearance. The rest of the night
we passed in melancholy conjectures on the light which had
deserted us, which the major part of the sailors concluded to be a
meteor. In this distress we had one comfort, which was a plentiful
store of provisions; this so supported the spirits of the sailors,
that they declared had they but a sufficient quantity of brandy
they cared not whether they saw land for a month to come; but
indeed we were much nearer it than we imagined, as we perceived at
break of day. One of the most knowing of the crew declared we were
near the continent of Africa; but when we were within three
leagues of it a second violent storm arose from the north, so that
we again gave over all hopes of safety. This storm was not quite
so outrageous as the former, but of much longer continuance, for
it lasted near three days, and drove us an immense number of
leagues to the south. We were within a league of the shore,
expecting every moment our ship to be dashed in pieces, when the
tempest ceased all on a sudden; but the waves still continued to
roll like mountains, and before the sea recovered its calm motion,
our ship was thrown so near the land, that the captain ordered out
his boat, declaring he had scarce any hopes of saving her; and
indeed we had not quitted her many minutes before we saw the
justice of his apprehensions, for she struck against a rock and
immediately sunk. The behaviour of the sailors on this occasion
very much affected me; they beheld their ship perish with the
tenderness of a lover or a parent; they spoke of her as the
fondest husband would of his wife; and many of them, who seemed to
have no tears in their composition, shed them plentifully at her
sinking. The captain himself cried out, 'Go thy way, charming
Molly, the sea never devoured a lovelier morsel. If I have fifty
vessels I shall never love another like thee. Poor slut! I shall
remember thee to my dying day.' Well, the boat now conveyed us all
safe to shore, where we landed with very little difficulty. It was
now about noon, and the rays of the sun, which descended almost
perpendicular on our heads, were extremely hot and troublesome.
However, we travelled through this extreme heat about five miles
over a plain. This brought us to a vast wood, which extended
itself as far as we could see, both to the right and left, and
seemed to me to put an entire end to our progress. Here we decreed
to rest and dine on the provision which we had brought from the
ship, of which we had sufficient for very few meals; our boat
being so overloaded with people that we had very little room for
luggage of any kind. Our repast was salt pork broiled, which the
keenness of hunger made so delicious to my companions that they
fed very heartily upon it. As for myself, the fatigue of my body
and the vexation of my mind had so thoroughly weakened me, that I
was almost entirely deprived of appetite; and the utmost dexterity
of the most accomplished French cook would have been ineffectual
had he endeavoured to tempt me with delicacies. I thought myself
very little a gainer by my late escape from the tempest, by which
I seemed only to have exchanged the element in which I was
presently to die. When our company had sufficiently, and indeed
very plentifully feasted themselves, they resolved to enter the
wood and endeavour to pass it, in expectation of finding some
inhabitants, at least some provision. We proceeded therefore in
the following order: one man in the front with a hatchet, to clear
our way, and two others followed him with guns, to protect the
rest from wild beasts; then walked the rest of our company, and
last of all the captain himself, being armed likewise with a gun,
to defend us from any attack behind--in the rear, I think you call
it. And thus our whole company, being fourteen in number,
travelled on till night overtook us, without seeing anything
unless a few birds and some very insignificant animals. We rested
all night under the covert of some trees, and indeed we very
little wanted shelter at that season, the heat in the day being
the only inclemency we had to combat with in this climate. I
cannot help telling you my old friend lay still nearest me on the
ground, and declared he would be my protector should any of the
sailors offer rudeness; but I can acquit them of any such attempt;
nor was I ever affronted by any one, more than with a coarse
expression, proceeding rather from the roughness and ignorance of
their education than from any abandoned principle, or want of
humanity.
"We had now proceeded very little way on our next day's march when
one of the sailors, having skipt nimbly up a hill, with the
assistance of a speaking trumpet informed us that he saw a town a
very little way off. This news so comforted me, and gave me such
strength, as well as spirits, that, with the help of my old friend
and another, who suffered me to lean on them, I, with much
difficulty, attained the summit; but was so absolutely overcome in
climbing it, that I had no longer sufficient strength to support
my tottering limbs, and was obliged to lay myself again on the
ground; nor could they prevail on me to undertake descending
through a very thick wood into a plain, at the end of which indeed
appeared some houses, or rather huts, but at a much greater
distance than the sailor assured us; the little way, as he had
called it, seeming to me full twenty miles, nor was it, I believe,
much less."
CHAPTER NINE
CONTAINING INCIDENTS VERY SURPRIZING.
The captain declared he would, without delay, proceed to the town
before him; in which resolution he was seconded by all the crew;
but when I could not be persuaded, nor was I able to travel any
farther before I had rested myself, my old friend protested he
would not leave me, but would stay behind as my guard; and, when I
had refreshed myself with a little repose, he would attend me to
the town, which the captain promised he would not leave before he
had seen us.