A famous Master-Thief and an Ugly, who dressed like a Man, and died in 1663
Mary Frith(Moll) was born in 1559 in Barbican in Aldersgate Street, she was very well read and skilled, one of her skills was snatching purses and digging into the pockets of the wealthy ones. Her father was a shoemaker, and she was an only child.
Her masculine spirit predominated her youthful life, she choose to play with boys and boy games, fight with as well. She was tough did not delight in having or being around girls. Grew up acting as a boy, and this was not quite acceptable for her father so he decided to ship her off with her Uncle. That night she managed to escape from his ship, swam into the night and was never seen again.
She was referred to as lusty, sturdy wench, libertine, she decided that she was not going to be enclosed in the limits of a private domestic life. She often expressed likeness towards children, but unfortunately she was barren, would never bare children. She was undoubtedly very ugly and was aware of it, she knew she was not fit or made for the pleasure of delight of a man; so she choose to be honored by him rather than with him. She was powerful and strong, demonstrated this by being able to command any person, and was able to beat up any man without and unnecessary help from others.
Soon she befriended some fortune tellers who taught her how to steal, cheat, but her monies did not last very long. She decides to join a Society of Divers or file clyers, who cut purses or pick pockets, otherwise known as pirates. Left that life soon and began to commit robberies on rebels for a long time until the day she robbed General Fairfax, shooting him in his arm, she fled but was caught at Turnham Green, when her horse gave out on her. She was released after giving the adversary two thousand pounds.
Moll took over a home and became a buyer of stolen goods, which went rather well for her, she made quite a bit of money. Turned her home into a brokerage with jewels, rings and watches, which were stolen of course. One day a gentleman approached her home in the hopes that he would recover his stolen watch. Moll denied having it but insisted in hearing him out and told him to return the next day, she made a trade with him, no questions asked. Moll then became an acquaintance of thieves who called themselves heavers, who robbed shop books from drapers and mercers or other rich traders.
Sooner than later she was sentenced to appear in the Court of Arches, being accused of wearing indecent and manly apparel, she did penance in a white sheet at St. Paul’s cross during a Sunday morning sermon. But nonetheless she continued to dress in men’s apparel, very decently dressed.
At the age of 74 she contracted a disease called dropsy, which had terrible and strange symptoms, she thought she was possessed and that the devil had got within her doublet, she wrapped her head in cloths, she looked like Mother Shipton. Moll knew she was going to die, while alive, she began to distribute her fortune amongst her chief companions and friends, gave her maids 100 pounds for both. Although she had committed many bad and sinful acts, she did not turn greedy and possessive of her fortune, everyone who she esteemed benefited from her death, even though she did not have a will.
When her death was nearing, she made her last wish, she wished to be buried with her breech upwards, saying “That she be as preposterous in her death as she had been all along in her infamous life.” (177) On her stone an epitaph was engraved reading:
Here lies, under this same marble,
Dust, for Time's last sieve to garble;
Dust, to perplex a Sadducee,
Whether it rise a He or She,
Or two in one, a single pair,
Nature's sport, and now her care.
For how she'll clothe it at last day,
Unless she sighs it all away;
Or where she'll place it, none can tell:
Some middle place 'twixt Heaven and Hell
And well 'tis Purgatory's found,
Else she must hide her under ground.
These reliques do deserve the doom,
Of that cheat Mahomet's fine tomb
For no communion she had,
Nor sorted with the good or bad;
That when the world shall be calcin'd,
And the mixd' mass of human kind
Shall sep'rate by that melting fire,
She'll stand alone, and none come nigh her.
Reader, here she lies till then,
When, truly, you'll see her again."
By Guadalupe Krop
