`DEAR boy and Pip's comrade. I am not a going fur to tell you
my life, like a song or a story-book. But to give it you short and handy, I'll
put it at once into a mouthful of English. In jail and out of jail, in jail and
out of jail, in jail and out of jail. There, you got it. That's my life pretty
much, down to such times as I got shipped off, arter Pip stood my friend.
`I've been done everything to, pretty well - except hanged. I've been locked
up, as much as a silver tea-kettle. I've been carted here and carted there, and
put out of this town and put out of that town, and stuck in the stocks, and
whipped and worried and drove. I've no more notion where I was born, than you
have - if so much. I first become aware of myself, down in Essex, a thieving
turnips for my living. Summun had run away from me - a man - a tinker - and he'd
took the fire with him, and left me wery cold.
`I know'd my name to be Magwitch, chrisen'd Abel. How did I know it? Much as
I know'd the birds' names in the hedges to be chaffinch, sparrer, thrush. I
might have thought it was all lies together, only as the birds' names come out
true, I supposed mine did.
`So fur as I could find, there warn't a soul that see young Abel Magwitch,
with us little on him as in him, but wot caught fright at him, and either drove
him off, or took him up. I was took up, took up, took up, to that extent that I
reg'larly grow'd up took up.
`This is the way it was, that when I was a ragged little creetur as much to
be pitied as ever I see (not that I looked in the glass, for there warn't many
insides of furnished houses known to me), I got the name of being hardened.
"This is a terrible hardened one," they says to prison wisitors, picking out me.
"May be said to live in jails, this boy. "Then they looked at me, and I looked
at them, and they measured my head, some on 'em - they had better a measured my
stomach - and others on 'em giv me tracts what I couldn't read, and made me
speeches what I couldn't understand. They always went on agen me about the
Devil. But what the Devil was I to do? I must put something into my stomach,
mustn't I? - Howsomever, I'm a getting low, and I know what's due. Dear boy and
Pip's comrade, don't you be afeerd of me being low.
`Tramping, begging, thieving, working sometimes when I could - though that
warn't as often as you may think, till you put the question whether you would
ha' been over-ready to give me work yourselves - a bit of a poacher, a bit of a
labourer, a bit of a waggoner, a bit of a haymaker, a bit of a hawker, a bit of
most things that don't pay and lead to trouble, I got to be a man. A deserting
soldier in a Traveller's Rest, what lay hid up to the chin under a lot of
taturs, learnt me to read; and a travelling Giant what signed his name at a
penny a time learnt me to write. I warn't locked up as often now as formerly,
but I wore out my good share of keymetal still.
`At Epsom races, a matter of over twenty years ago, I got acquainted wi' a
man whose skull I'd crack wi' this poker, like the claw of a lobster, if I'd got
it on this hob. His right name was Compeyson; and that's the man, dear boy, what
you see me a pounding in the ditch, according to what you truly told your
comrade arter I was gone last night.
`He set up fur a gentleman, this Compeyson, and he'd been to a public
boarding-school and had learning. He was a smooth one to talk, and was a dab at
the ways of gentlefolks. He was a good-looking too. It was the night afore the
great race, when I found him on the heath, in a booth that I know'd on. Him and
some more was a sitting among the tables when I went in, and the landlord (which
had a knowledge of me, and was a sporting one) called him out, and said, "It
hink this is a man that might suit you" - meaning I was.
`Compeyson, he looks at me very noticing, and I look at him. He has a watch
and a chain and a ring and a breast-pin and a handsome suit of clothes.
`"To judge from appearances, you're out of luck," says Compeyson to me.
`"Yes, master, and I've never been in it much." (I had come out of Kingston
Jail last on a vagrancy committal. Not but what it might have been for something
else; but it warn't.)
`"Luck changes," says Compeyson; "perhaps yours is going to change."
`I says, "I hope it may be so. There's room."
`"What can you do?" says Compeyson.
`"Eat and drink," I says; "if you'll find the materials."
`Compeyson laughed, looked at me again very noticing, giv me five shillings,
and appointed me for next night. Same place.
`I went to Compeyson next night, same place, and Compeyson took me on to be
his man and pardner. And what was Compeyson's business in which we was to go
pardners? Compeyson's business was the swindling, handwriting forging, stolen
bank-note passing, and such-like. All sorts of traps as Compeyson could set with
his head, and keep his own legs out of and get the profits from and let another
man in for, was Compeyson's business. He'd no more heart than a iron file, he
was as cold as death, and he had the head of the Devil afore mentioned.
`There was another in with Compeyson, as was called Arthur - not as being so
chrisen'd, but as a surname. He was in a Decline, and was a shadow to look at.
Him and Compeyson had been in a bad thing with a rich lady some years afore, and
they'd made a pot of money by it; but Compeyson betted and gamed, and he'd have
run through the king's taxes. So, Arthur was a dying, and a dying poor and with
the horrors on him, and Compeyson's wife (which Compeyson kicked mostly) was a
having pity on him when she could, and Compeyson was a having pity on nothing
and nobody.
`I might a took warning by Arthur, but I didn't; and I won't pretend I was
partick'ler - for where 'ud be the good on it, dear boy and comrade? So I begun
wi' Compeyson, and a poor tool I was in his hands. Arthur lived at the top of
Compeyson's house (over nigh Brentford it was), and Compeyson kept a careful
account agen him for board and lodging, in case he should ever get better to
work it out. But Arthur soon settled the account. The second or third time as
ever I see him, he come a tearing down into Compeyson's parlour late at night,
in only a flannel gown, with his hair all in a sweat, and he says to Compeyson's
wife, "Sally, she really is upstairs alonger me, now, and I can't get rid of
her. She's all in white," he says, "wi' white flowers in her hair, and she's
awful mad, and she's got a shroud hanging over her arm, and she says she'll put
it on me at five in the morning."
`Says Compeyson: "Why, you fool, don't you know she's got a living body? And
how should she be up there, without coming through the door, or in at the
window, and up the stairs?"
`"I don't know how she's there," says Arthur, shivering dreadful with the
horrors, "but she's standing in the corner at the foot of the bed, awful mad.
And over where her heart's brook - you broke it! - there's drops of blood."
`Compeyson spoke hardy, but he was always a coward. "Go up alonger this
drivelling sick man," he says to his wife, "and Magwitch, lend her a hand, will
you?" But he never come nigh himself.
`Compeyson's wife and me took him up to bed agen, and he raved most dreadful.
"Why look at her!" he cries out. "She's a shaking the shroud at me! Don't you
see her? Look at her eyes!Ain't it awful to see her so mad?" Next, he cries,
"She'll put it on me, and then I'm done for! Take it away from her, take it
away!" And then he catched hold of us, and kep on a talking to her, and
answering of her, till I half believed I see her myself.
`Compeyson's wife, being used to him, giv him some liquor to get the horrors
off, and by-and-by he quieted. "Oh, she's gone!Has her keeper been for her?" he
says. "Yes," says Compeyson's wife. "Did you tell him to lock her and bar her
in?" "Yes." "And to take that ugly thing away from her?" "Yes, yes, all right."
"You're a good creetur," he says, "don't leave me, whatever you do, and thank
you!"
`He rested pretty quiet till it might want a few minutes of five, and then he
starts up with a scream, and screams out, "Here she is!She's got the shroud
again. She's unfolding it. She's coming out of the corner. She's coming to the
bed. Hold me, both on you - one of each side - don't let her touch me with it.
Hah! she missed me that time. Don't let her throw it over my shoulders. Don't
let her lift me up to get it round me. She's lifting me up. Keep me down!" Then
he lifted himself up hard, and was dead.
`Compeyson took it easy as a good riddance for both sides. Him and me was
soon busy, and first he swore me (being ever artful) on my own book - this here
little black book, dear boy, what I swore your comrade on.
`Not to go into the things that Compeyson planned, and I done - which 'ud
take a week - I'll simply say to you, dear boy, and Pip's comrade, that that man
got me into such nets as made me his black slave. I was always in debt to him,
always under his thumb, always a working, always a getting into danger. He was
younger than me, but he'd got craft, and he'd got learning, and he overmatched
me five hundred times told and no mercy. My Missis as I had the hard time wi' -
Stop though! I ain't brought her in--'
He looked about him in a confused way, as if he had lost his place in the
book of his remembrance; and he turned his face to the fire, and spread his
hands broader on his knees, and lifted them off and put them on again.
`There ain't no need to go into it,' he said, looking round once more. `The
time wi' Compeyson was a'most as hard a time as ever I had; that said, all's
said. Did I tell you as I was tried, alone, for misdemeanour, while with
Compeyson?'
I answered, No.
`Well!' he said, `I was, and got convicted. As to took up on suspicion, that
was twice or three times in the four or five year that it lasted; but evidence
was wanting. At last, me and Compeyson was both committed for felony - on a
charge of putting stolen notes in circulation - and there was other charges
behind. Compeyson says to me, "Separate defences, no communication," and that
was all. And I was so miserable poor, that I sold all the clothes I had, except
what hung on my back, afore I could get Jaggers.
`When we was put in the dock, I noticed first of all what a gentleman
Compeyson looked, wi' his curly hair and his black clothes and his white
pocket-handkercher, and what a common sort of a wretch I looked. When the
prosecution opened and the evidence was put short, aforehand, I noticed how
heavy it all bore on me, and how light on him. When the evidence was giv in the
box, I noticed how it was always me that had come for'ard, and could be swore
to, how it was always me that the money had been paid to, how it was always me
that had seemed to work the thing and get the profit. But, when the defence come
on, then I see the plan plainer; for, says the counsellor for Compeyson, "My
lord and gentlemen, here you has afore you, side by side, two persons as your
eyes can separate wide; one, the younger, well brought up, who will be spoke to
as such; one, the elder, ill brought up, who will be spoke to as such; one, the
younger, seldom if ever seen in these here transactions, and only suspected;
t'other, the elder, always seen in 'em and always wi'his guilt brought home. Can
you doubt, if there is but one in it, which is the one, and, if there is two in
it, which is much the worst one?" And such-like. And when it come to character,
warn't it Compeyson as had been to the school, and warn't it his schoolfellows
as was in this position and in that, and warn't it him as had been know'd by
witnesses in such clubs and societies, and nowt to his disadvantage? And warn't
it me as had been tried afore, and as had been know'd up hill and down dale in
Bridewells and Lock-Ups? And when it come to speech-making, warn't it Compeyson
as could speak to 'em wi' his face dropping every now and then into his white
pocket-handkercher - ah! and wi' verses in his speech, too - and warn't it me as
could only say, "Gentlemen, this man at my side is a most precious rascal"? And
when the verdict come, warn't it Compeyson as was recommended to mercy on
account of good character and bad company, and giving up all the information he
could agen me, and warn't it me as got never a word but Guilty? And when I says
to Compeyson, "Once out of this court, I'll smash that face of yourn!" ain't it
Compeyson as prays the Judge to be protected, and gets two turnkeys stood
betwixt us? And when we're sentenced, ain't it him as gets seven year, and me
fourteen, and ain't it him as the Judge is sorry for, because he might a done so
well, and ain't it me as the Judge perceives to be a old offender of wiolent
passion, likely to come to worse?'
He had worked himself into a state of great excitement, but he checked it,
took two or three short breaths, swallowed as often, and stretching out his hand
towards me said, in a reassuring manner, `I ain't a going to be low, dear boy!'
He had so heated himself that he took out his handkerchief and wiped his face
and head and neck and hands, before he could go on.
`I had said to Compeyson that I'd smash that face of his, and I swore Lord
smash mine! to do it. We was in the same prison-ship, but I couldn't get at him
for long, though I tried. At last I come behind him and hit him on the cheek to
turn him round and get a smashing one at him, when I was seen and seized. The
black-hole of that ship warn't a strong one, to a judge of black-holes that
could swim and dive. I escaped to the shore, and I was a hiding among the graves
there, envying them as was in 'em and all over, when I first see my boy!'
He regarded me with a look of affection that made him almost abhorrent to me
again, though I had felt great pity for him.
`By my boy, I was giv to understand as Compeyson was out on them marshes too.
Upon my soul, I half believe he escaped in his terror, to get quit of me, not
knowing it was me as had got ashore. I hunted him down. I smashed his face. "And
now," says I "as the worst thing I can do, caring nothing for myself, I'll drag
you back." And I'd have swum off, towing him by the hair, if it had come to
that, and I'd a got him abroad without the soldiers.
`Of course he'd much the best of it to the last - his character was so good.
He had escaped when he was made half-wild by me and my murderous intentions; and
his punishment was light. I was put in irons, brought to trial again, and sent
for life. I didn't stop for life, dear boy and Pip's comrade, being here.'
`He wiped himself again, as he had done before, and then slowly took his
tangle of tobacco from his pocket, and plucked his pipe from his button-hole,
and slowly filled it, and began to smoke.
`Is he dead?' I asked, after a silence.
`Is who dead, dear boy?'
`Compeyson.'
`He hopes I am, if he's alive, you may be sure,' with a fierce look. `I never
heerd no more of him.'
Herbert had been writing with his pencil in the cover of a book. He softly
pushed the book over to me, as Provis stood smoking with his eyes on the fire,
and I read in it:
`Young Havisham's name was Arthur. Compeyson is the man who professed to be
Miss Havisham's lover.'
I shut the book and nodded slightly to Herbert, and put the book by; but we
neither of us said anything, and both looked at Provis as he stood smoking by
the fire.
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