by Daniel Defoe
I was not displeased with the news that his process was more tedious than he expected; for though I was in no condition to have had him yet, not being so foolish to marry him when I knew myself to be with child by another man, as some I know have ventured to do, yet I was not willing to lose him and, in a word, resolved to have him if he continued in the same mind as soon as I was up again; for I saw apparently I should hear no more from my other husband; and as he had all along pressed me to marry and had assured me he would not be at all disgusted at it or ever offer to claim me again, so I made no scruple to resolve to do it if I could and if my other friend stood to his bargain; and I had a great deal of reason to be assured that he would by the letters he wrote to me, which were the kindest and most obliging that could be.
I now grew big, and the people where I lodged perceived it and began to take notice of it to me, and as far as civility would allow, intimated that I must think of removing. This put me to extreme perplexity and I grew very melancholy, for indeed I knew not what course to take; I had money, but no friends, and was like now to have a child upon my hands to keep, which was a difficulty I had never had upon me yet, as my story hitherto makes appear.
In the course of this affair I fell very ill, and my melancholy really increased my distemper. My illness proved at length to be only an ague, but my apprehensions were really that I should miscarry. I should not say apprehensions, for indeed I would have been glad to miscarry, but I could never entertain so much as a thought of taking anything to make me miscarry; I abhorred, I say, so much as the thought of it.
However, speaking of it, the gentlewoman who kept the house proposed to me to send for a midwife. I scrupled it at first, but after some time consented, but told her I had no acquaintance with any midwife and so left it to her.
It seems the mistress of the house was not so great a stranger to such cases as mine was as I thought at first she had been, as will appear presently; and she sent for a midwife of the right sort—that is to say, the right sort for me.
The woman appeared to be an experienced woman in her business, I mean as a midwife; but she had another calling too, in which she was as expert as most women if not more. My landlady had told her I was very melancholy and that she believed that had done me harm; and once, before me, said to her, “Mrs. B——, I believe this lady’s trouble is of a kind that is pretty much in your way, and therefore if you can do anything for her, pray do, for she is a very civil gentlewoman”; and so she went out of the room.
I really did not understand her, but my Mother Midnight began very seriously to explain what she meant as soon as she was gone. “Madam,” says she, “you seem not to understand what your landlady means; and when you do, you need not let her know at all that you do so.
“She means that you are under some circumstances that may render your lying in difficult to you, and that you are not willing to be exposed. I need say no more but to tell you that if you think fit to communicate so much of your case to me as is necessary, for I do not desire to pry into those things, I perhaps may be in a condition to assist you, and to make you easy, and remove all your dull thoughts upon that subject.”
Every word this creature said was a cordial to me and put new life and new spirit into my very heart; my blood began to circulate immediately, and I was quite another body; I eat my victuals again and grew better presently after it. She said a great deal more to the same purpose, and then, having pressed me to be free with her and promised in the solemnest manner to be secret, she stopped a little, as if waiting to see what impression it made on me and what I would say.
I was too sensible of the want I was in of such a woman not to accept her offer; I told her my case was partly as she guessed and partly not, for I was really married and had a husband, though he was so remote at that time as that he could not appear publicly.
She took me short and told me that was none of her business; all the ladies that came under her care were married women to her. “Every woman,” says she, “that is with child has a father for it,” and whether that father was a husband or no husband was no business of hers; her business was to assist me in my present circumstances, whether I had a husband or no; “for, madam,” says she, “to have a husband that cannot appear is to have no husband, and therefore whether you are a wife or a mistress is all one to me.”
I found presently that whether I was a whore or a wife, I was to pass for a whore here, so I let that go. I told her it was true, as she said, but that, however, if I must tell her my case, I must tell it her as it was; so I related it as short as I could and I concluded it to her: “I trouble you with this, madam,” said I, “not that, as you said before, it is much to the purpose in your affair; but this is to the purpose, namely, that I am not in any pain about being seen or being concealed, for ’tis perfectly indifferent to me; but my difficulty is that I have no acquaintance in this part of the nation.”
“I understand you, madam,” says she; “you have no security to bring to prevent the parish impertinences usual in such cases, and perhaps,” says she, “do not know very well how to dispose of the child when it comes.” “The last,” says I, “is not so much my concern as the first.” “Well, madam,” answers the midwife, “dare you put yourself into my hands? I live in such a place; though I do not inquire after you, you may inquire after me. My name is B——; I live in such a street”—naming the street—“at the sign of the Cradle. My profession is a midwife, and I have many ladies that come to my house to lie in. I have given security to the parish in general to secure them from any charge from what shall come into the world under my roof. I have but one question to ask in the whole affair, madam,” says she, “and if that be answered, you shall be entirely easy of the rest.”
I presently understood what she meant and told her, “Madam, I believe I understand you. I thank God, though I want friends in this part of the world I do not want money, so far as may be necessary, though I do not abound in that neither.” This I added because I would not make her expect great things. “Well, madam,” says she, “that is the thing, indeed, without which nothing can be done in these cases; and yet,” says she, “you shall see that I will not impose upon you or offer anything that is unkind to you, and you shall know everything beforehand, that you may suit yourself to the occasion and be either costly or sparing as you see fit.”
I told her she seemed to be so perfectly sensible of my condition that I had nothing to ask of her but this: that as I had money sufficient, but not a great quantity, she would order it so that I might be at as little superfluous charge as possible.
She replied that she should bring in an account of the expenses of it in two or three shapes; I should choose as I pleased; and I desired her to do so.
The next day she brought it, and the copy of her three bills was as follows:
£ s. d.
1. For three months’ lodging in her house, including my diet, at 10s. a week……………
6 0 0
2. For a nurse for the month and use of childbed-linen……………
110 0
3. For a minister to christen the child, and to the godfathers and clerk……………
110 0
4. For a supper at the christening if I had five friends at it……………
1 0 0
For her fees as a midwife and the taking off the trouble of the parish……………
3 3 0
To her maidservant attending……………
0 10 0
£13 13 0
This was the first bill; the second was in the same terms:
£ s. d.
1. For three months’ lodging and diet, etc., at 20s. per week……………
12 0 0
2. For a nurse for the month and the use of linen and lace……………
2 10 0
3. For the minister to christen the child, etc., as above……………
2 0 0
4. For a supper and for sweetmeats……………
3 3 0
For her fees, as above……………
5 5 0
For a servant-maid……………
1 0 0
£25 18 0
This was the second-rate bill; the third, she said, was for a degree higher and when the father or friends appeared:
£ s. d.
1. For three months’ lodging and diet, having two rooms and a garret for a servant……………
30 0 0
2. For a nurse for the month and the finest suit of childbed-linen……………
4 4 0
3. For the minister to christen the child, etc.……………
2 10 0
4. For a supper, the gentleman to send in the wine……………
6 0 0
For my fees, etc.……………
10 10 0
The maid, besides their own maid, only……………
0 10 0
£53 14 0
I looked upon all the three bills and smiled, and told her I did not see but that she was very reasonable in her demands, and things considered, and I did not doubt but her accommodations were good.
She told me I should be a judge of that when I saw them. I told her I was sorry to tell her that I feared I must be her lowest-rated customer; “and perhaps, madam,” said I, “you will make me the less welcome upon that account.” “No, not at all,” said she; “for where I have one of the third sort, I have two of the second and four of the first, and I get as much by them in proportion as by any; but if you doubt my care of you, I will allow any friend you have to see if you are well waited on or no.”
Then she explained the particulars of her bill. “In the first place, madam,” said she, “I would have you observe that here is three months’ keeping you at but ten shillings a week; I undertake to say you will not complain of my table. I suppose,” says she, “you do not live cheaper where you are now?” “No, indeed,” said I, “nor so cheap, for I give six shillings per week for my chamber and find my own diet, which costs me a great deal more.”
“Then, madam,” says she, “if the child should not live, as it sometimes happens, there is the minister’s article saved; and if you have no friends to come, you may save the expense of a supper; so that take those articles out, madam,” says she, “your lying in will not cost you above five pounds three shillings more than your ordinary charge of living.”
This was the most reasonable thing that I ever heard of; so I smiled and told her I would come and be a customer; but I told her also that as I had two months and more to go, I might perhaps be obliged to stay longer with her than three months, and desired to know if she would not be obliged to remove me before it was proper. No, she said; her house was large, and besides, she never put anybody to remove that had lain in till they were willing to go; and if she had more ladies offered, she was not so ill-beloved among her neighbours but she could provide accommodation for twenty if there was occasion.
I found she was an eminent lady in her way, and in short, I agreed to put myself into her hands. She then talked of other things, looked about into my accommodations where I was, found fault with my wanting attendance and conveniences, and that I should not be used so at her house. I told her I was shy of speaking, for the woman of the house looked stranger, or at least I thought so, since I had been ill, because I was with child; and I was afraid she would put some affront or other upon me, supposing that I had been able to give but a slight account of myself.
“Oh, dear,” says she, “her ladyship is no stranger to these things; she has tried to entertain ladies in your condition, but could not secure the parish; and besides, such a nice lady, as you take her to be. However, since you are a-going, you shall not meddle with her, but I’ll see you are a little better looked after while you are here, and it shall not cost you the more neither.”
I did not understand her; however, I thanked her, so we parted. The next morning she sent me a chicken roasted and hot, and a bottle of sherry, and ordered the maid to tell me that she was to wait on me every day as long as I stayed there.
This was surprisingly good and kind, and I accepted it very willingly. At night she sent to me again, to know if I wanted anything and to order the maid to come to her in the morning for dinner. The maid had orders to make me some chocolate in the morning before she came away, and at noon she brought me the sweetbread of a breast of veal, whole, and a dish of soup for my dinner; and after this manner she nursed me up at a distance, so that I was mightily well pleased and quickly well, for indeed my dejections before were the principal part of my illness.
I expected, as is usually the case among such people, that the servant she sent me would have been some impudent brazen wench of Drury Lane breeding, and I was very uneasy upon that account; so I would not let her lie in the house the first night, but had my eyes about me as narrowly as if she had been a public thief.
My gentlewoman guessed presently what was the matter and sent her back with a short note that I might depend upon the honesty of her maid; that she would be answerable for her upon all accounts; and that she took no servants without very good security. I was then perfectly easy, and indeed the maid’s behaviour spoke for itself, for a modester, quieter, soberer girl never came into anybody’s family, and I found her so afterwards.
As soon as I was well enough to go abroad, I went with the maid to see the house and to see the apartment I was to have; and everything was so handsome and so clean that, in short, I had nothing to say, but was wonderfully pleased with what I had met with, which, considering the melancholy circumstances I was in, was beyond what I looked for.
It might be expected that I should give some account of the nature of the wicked practices of this woman in whose hands I was now fallen; but it would be but too much encouragement to the vice to let the world see what easy measures were here taken to rid the women’s burthen of a child clandestinely gotten. This grave matron had several sorts of practice, and this was one: that if a child was born, though not in her house (for she had the occasion to be called to many private labours), she had people always ready who for a piece of money would take the child off their hands and off from the hands of the parish too; and those children, as she said, were honestly taken care of. What should become of them all, considering so many as by her account she was concerned with, I cannot conceive.
I had many times discourses upon that subject with her; but she was full of this argument: that she saved the life of many an innocent lamb, as she called them, which would perhaps have been murdered; and of many a woman who, made desperate by the misfortune, would otherwise be tempted to destroy their children. I granted her that this was true and a very commendable thing, provided the poor children fell into good hands afterwards and were not abused and neglected by the nurses. She answered that she always took care of that, and had no nurses in her business but what were very good people and such as might be depended upon.
I could say nothing to the contrary, and so was obliged to say, “Madam, I do not question but you do your part, but what those people do is the main question”; and she stopped my mouth again with saying she took the utmost care about it.
The only thing I found in all her conversation on these subjects that gave me any distaste was that one time in discoursing about my being so far gone with child, she said something that looked as if she could help me off with my burthen sooner if I was willing; or, in English, that she could give me something to make me miscarry if I had a desire to put an end to my troubles that way; but I soon let her see that I abhorred the thoughts of it; and to do her justice, she put it off so cleverly that I could not say she really intended it or whether she only mentioned the practice as a horrible thing; for she couched her words so well and took my meaning so quickly that she gave her negative before I could explain myself.
To bring this part into as narrow a compass as possible, I quitted my lodging at St. Jones’s and went to my new governess, for so they called her in the house, and there I was i
ndeed treated with so much courtesy, so carefully looked to, and everything so well that I was surprised at it and could not at first see what advantage my governess made of it; but I found afterwards that she professed to make no profit of the lodgers’ diet, nor indeed could she get much by it, but that her profit lay in the other articles of her management, and she made enough that way, I assure you; for ’tis scarce credible what practice she had, as well abroad as at home, and yet all upon the private account, or, in plain English, the whoring account.
While I was in her house, which was near four months, she had no less than twelve ladies of pleasure brought to bed within doors, and I think she had two-and-thirty or thereabouts under her conduct without doors; whereof one, as nice as she was with me, was lodged with my old landlady at St. Jones’s.
This was a strange testimony of the growing vice of the age, and as bad as I had been myself, it shocked my very senses; I began to nauseate the place I was in and, above all, the practice; and yet I must say that I never saw, or do I believe there was to be seen, the least indecency in the house the whole time I was there.
Not a man was ever seen to come upstairs except to visit the lying-in ladies within their month, nor then without the old lady with them, who made it a piece of the honour of her management that no man should touch a woman, no, not his own wife, within the month; nor would she permit any man to lie in the house upon any pretence whatever, no, not though it was with his own wife; and her saying for it was that she cared not how many children were born in her house, but she would have none got there if she could help it.
