by Daniel Defoe
“If I swing by the string,
I shall hear the bell ring,*
And then there’s an end of poor Jenny.”
I mention this because it would be worth the observation of any prisoner who shall hereafter fall into the same misfortune and come to that dreadful place of Newgate—how time, necessity, and conversing with the wretches that are there familiarizes the place to them, how at last they become reconciled to that which at first was the greatest dread upon their spirits in the world, and are as impudently cheerful and merry in their misery as they were when out of it.
I cannot say, as some do, this devil is not so black as he is painted; for indeed no colours can represent that place to the life nor any soul conceive aright of it but those who have been sufferers there. But how hell should become by degrees so natural, and not only tolerable but even agreeable, is a thing unintelligible but by those who have experienced it, as I have.
The same night that I was sent to Newgate I sent the news of it to my old governess, who was surprised at it, you may be sure, and spent the night almost as ill out of Newgate as I did in it.
The next morning she came to see me; she did what she could to comfort me, but she saw that was to no purpose; however, as she said, to sink under the weight was but to increase the weight; she immediately applied herself to all the proper methods to prevent the effects of it, which we feared, and first she found out the two fiery jades that had surprised me. She tampered with them, persuaded them, offered them money, and, in a word, tried all imaginable ways to prevent a prosecution; she offered one of the wenches £100 to go away from her mistress and not to appear against me, but she was so resolute that though she was but a servant-maid at £3 a year wages or thereabouts, she refused it, and would have refused, as my governess said she believed, if she had offered her £500. Then she attacked the other maid; she was not so hard-hearted as the other, and sometimes seemed inclined to be merciful; but the first wench kept her up and would not so much as let my governess talk with her, but threatened to have her up for tampering with the evidence.
Then she applied to the master, that is to say, the man whose goods had been stolen, and particularly to his wife, who was inclined at first to have some compassion for me; she found the woman the same still, but the man alleged he was bound to prosecute, and that he should forfeit his recognizance.
My governess offered to find friends that should get his recognizances off of the file, as they call it, and that he should not suffer; but it was not possible to convince him that he could be safe any way in the world but by appearing against me; so I was to have three witnesses of fact against me, the master and his two maids; that is to say, I was as certain to be cast for my life as I was that I was alive, and I had nothing to do but to think of dying. I had but a sad foundation to build upon for that, as I said before, for all my repentance appeared to me to be only the effect of my fear of death, not a sincere regret for the wicked life that I had lived, and which had brought this misery upon me, or for the offending my Creator, who was now suddenly to be my judge.
I lived many days here under the utmost horror; I had death, as it were, in view, and thought of nothing night or day but of gibbets and halters, evil spirits and devils; it is not to be expressed how I was harassed between the dreadful apprehensions of death and the terror of my conscience reproaching me with my past horrible life.
The ordinary of Newgate came to me and talked a little in his way, but all his divinity run upon confessing my crime, as he called it (though he knew not what I was in for), making a full discovery, and the like, without which he told me God would never forgive me; and he said so little to the purpose that I had no manner of consolation from him; and then to observe the poor creature preaching confession and repentance to me in the morning and find him drunk with brandy by noon—this had something in it so shocking that I began to nauseate the man and his work too by degrees for the sake of the man; so that I desired him to trouble me no more.
I know not how it was, but by the indefatigable application of my diligent governess I had no bill preferred against me the first sessions, I mean to the grand jury, at Guildhall; so I had another month or five weeks before me, and without doubt this ought to have been accepted by me as so much time given me for reflection upon what was past and preparation for what was to come. I ought to have esteemed it as a space given me for repentance and have employed it as such, but it was not in me. I was sorry, as before, for being in Newgate, but had few signs of repentance about me.
On the contrary, like the water in the hollows of mountains, which petrifies and turns into stone whatever they are suffered to drop upon, so the continual conversing with such a crew of hell-hounds had the same common operation upon me as upon other people. I degenerated into stone; I turned first stupid and senseless, and then brutish and thoughtless, and at last raving mad as any of them were; in short, I became as naturally pleased and easy with the place as if indeed I had been born there.
It is scarce possible to imagine that our natures should be capable of so much degeneracy as to make that pleasant and agreeable that in itself is the most complete misery. Here was a circumstance that I think it is scarce possible to mention a worse: I was as exquisitely miserable as it was possible for any one to be that had life and health and money to help them, as I had.
I had a weight of guilt upon me, enough to sink any creature who had the least power of reflection left and had any sense upon them of the happiness of this life or the misery of another. I had at first some remorse indeed, but no repentance; I had now neither remorse or repentance. I had a crime charged on me, the punishment of which was death; the proof so evident that there was no room for me so much as to plead not guilty. I had the name of an old offender, so that I had nothing to expect but death, neither had I myself any thoughts of escaping; and yet a certain strange lethargy of soul possessed me. I had no trouble, no apprehensions, no sorrow about me; the first surprise was gone; I was, I may well say, I know not how; my senses, my reason, nay, my conscience, were all asleep; my course of life for forty years had been a horrid complication of wickedness, whoredom, adultery, incest, lying, theft; and in a word, everything but murder and treason had been my practice from the age of eighteen or thereabouts to threescore; and now I was engulfed in the misery of punishment and had an infamous death at the door; and yet I had no sense of my condition, no thought of heaven or hell, at least that went any farther than a bare flying touch, like the stitch or pain that gives a hint and goes off. I neither had a heart to ask God’s mercy or indeed to think of it. And in this, I think, I have given a brief description of the completest misery on earth.
All my terrifying thoughts were past, the horrors of the place were become familiar, and I felt no more uneasiness at the noise and clamours of the prison than they did who made that noise; in a word, I was become a mere Newgate-bird, as wicked and as outrageous as any of them; nay, I scarce retained the habit and custom of good breeding and manners, which all along till now run through my conversation; so thorough a degeneracy had possessed me that I was no more the same thing that I had been than if I had never been otherwise than what I was now.
In the middle of this hardened part of my life I had another sudden surprise, which called me back a little to that thing called sorrow, which, indeed, I began to be past the sense of before. They told me one night that there was brought into the prison late the night before three highwaymen, who had committed a robbery somewhere on Hounslow Heath, I think it was, and were pursued to Uxbridge by the country, and there taken after a gallant resistance, in which many of the country-people were wounded and some killed.
It is not to be wondered that we prisoners were all desirous enough to see these brave, topping gentlemen, that were talked up to be such as their fellows had not been known, and especially because it was said they would in the morning be removed into the press-yard, having given money to the head master of the prison to be allowed the liberty of that better place. S
o we that were women placed ourselves in the way, that we would be sure to see them; but nothing could express the amazement and surprise I was in when the first man that came out I knew to be my Lancashire husband, the same with whom I lived so well at Dunstable, and the same who I afterwards saw at Brickhill when I was married to my last husband, as has been related.
I was struck dumb at the sight, and knew neither what to say or what to do; he did not know me, and that was all the present relief I had. I quitted my company and retired as much as that dreadful place suffers anybody to retire, and cried vehemently for a great while. “Dreadful creature that I am,” said I, “how many poor people have I made miserable! How many desperate wretches have I sent to the devil!” This gentleman’s misfortunes I placed all to my own account. He had told me at Chester he was ruined by that match, and that his fortunes were made desperate on my account; for that thinking I had been a fortune, he was run into debt more than he was able to pay; that he would go into the army and carry a musket or buy a horse and take a tour, as he called it; and though I never told him that I was a fortune, and so did not actually deceive him myself, yet I did encourage its having it thought so, and so I was the occasion originally of his mischief.
The surprise of this thing only struck deeper in my thoughts and gave me stronger reflections than all that had befallen me before. I grieved day and night, and the more for that they told me he was the captain of the gang and that he had committed so many robberies that Hind or Whitney or the Golden Farmer were fools to him; that he would surely be hanged if there were no more men left in the country; and that there would be abundance of people come in against him.
I was overwhelmed with grief for him; my own case gave me no disturbance compared to this, and I loaded myself with reproaches on his account. I bewailed my misfortunes and the ruin he was now come to at such a rate that I relished nothing now as I did before, and the first reflections I made upon the horrid life I had lived began to return upon me; and as these things returned, my abhorrence of the place and of the way of living in it returned also; in a word, I was perfectly changed and become another body.
While I was under these influences of sorrow for him came notice to me that the next sessions there would be a bill preferred to the grand jury against me, and that I should be tried for my life. My temper was touched before, the wretched boldness of spirit which I had acquired abated, and conscious guilt began to flow in my mind. In short, I began to think, and to think indeed is one real advance from hell to heaven. All that hardened state and temper of soul, which I said so much of before, is but a deprivation of thought; he that is restored to his thinking is restored to himself.
As soon as I began, I say, to think, the first thing that occurred to me broke out thus: “Lord! what will become of me? I shall be cast, to be sure, and there is nothing beyond that but death! I have no friends; what shall I do? I shall be certainly cast! Lord, have mercy upon me! What will become of me?” This was a sad thought, you will say, to be the first, after so long time, that had started in my soul of that kind, and yet even this was nothing but fright at what was to come; there was not a word of sincere repentance in it all. However, I was dreadfully dejected, and disconsolate to the last degree; and as I had no friend to communicate my distressed thoughts to, it lay so heavy upon me that it threw me into fits and swoonings several times a day. I sent for my old governess, and she, give her her due, acted the part of a true friend. She left no stone unturned to prevent the grand jury finding the bill. She went to several of the jurymen, talked with them, and endeavoured to possess them with favourable dispositions on account that nothing was taken away and no house broken, etc.; but all would not do; the two wenches swore home to the fact, and the jury found the bill for robbery and housebreaking, that is, for felony and burglary.
I sunk down when they brought the news of it, and after I came to myself I thought I should have died with the weight of it. My governess acted a true mother to me; she pitied me, she cried with me and for me, but she could not help me; and, to add to the terror of it, ’twas the discourse all over the house that I should die for it. I could hear them talk it among themselves very often, and see them shake their heads and say they were sorry for it and the like, as is usual in the place. But still nobody came to tell me their thoughts till at last one of the keepers came to me privately and said with a sigh, “Well, Mrs. Flanders, you will be tried a Friday” (this was but a Wednesday). “What do you intend to do?” I turned as white as a clout and said, “God knows what I shall do; for my part, I know not what to do.” “Why,” says he, “I won’t flatter you; I would have you prepare for death, for I doubt you will be cast; and as you are an old offender, I doubt you will find but little mercy. They say,” added he, “your case is very plain, and that the witnesses swear so home against you there will be no standing it.”
This was a stab into the very vitals of one under such a burthen, and I could not speak a word, good or bad, for a great while. At last I burst out into tears and said to him, “Oh, sir, what must I do?” “Do!” says he. “Send for a minister and talk with him; for, indeed, Mrs. Flanders, unless you have very good friends, you are no woman for this world.”
This was plain dealing indeed, but it was very harsh to me; at least I thought it so. He left me in the greatest confusion imaginable, and all that night I lay awake. And now I began to say my prayers, which I had scarce done before since my last husband’s death or from a little while after. And truly I may well call it saying my prayers, for I was in such a confusion and had such horror upon my mind that though I cried, and repeated several times the ordinary expression of “Lord, have mercy upon me!” I never brought myself to any sense of being a miserable sinner, as indeed I was, and of confessing my sins to God and begging pardon for the sake of Jesus Christ. I was overwhelmed with the sense of my condition, being tried for my life and being sure to be executed, and on this account I cried out all night, “Lord! what will become of me? Lord! what shall I do? Lord, have mercy upon me!” and the like.
My poor afflicted governess was now as much concerned as I, and a great deal more truly penitent, though she had no prospect of being brought to a sentence. Not but that she deserved it as much as I, and so she said herself; but she had not done anything for many years other than receiving what I and others had stolen and encouraging us to steal it. But she cried and took on like a distracted body, wringing her hands and crying out that she was undone, that she believed there was a curse from Heaven upon her, that she should be damned, that she had been the destruction of all her friends, that she brought such a one, and such a one, and such a one to the gallows; and there she reckoned up ten or eleven people, some of which I have given an account of, that came to untimely ends; and that now she was the occasion of my ruin, for she had persuaded me to go on when I would have left off. I interrupted her there. “No, Mother, no,” said I, “don’t speak of that, for you would have had me left off when I got the mercer’s money again and when I came home from Harwich, and I would not hearken to you; therefore you have not been to blame; it is I only have ruined myself; I have brought myself to this misery”; and thus we spent many hours together.
Well, there was no remedy; the prosecution went on, and on the Thursday I was carried down to the sessions-house, where I was arraigned, as they called it, and the next day I was appointed to be tried. At the arraignment I pleaded not guilty, and well I might, for I was indicted for felony and burglary; that is, for feloniously stealing two pieces of brocaded silk, value £46, the goods of Anthony Johnson, and for breaking open the doors; whereas I knew very well they could not pretend I had broken up the doors or so much as lifted up a latch.
On the Friday I was brought to my trial, I had exhausted my spirits with crying for two or three days before, that I slept better the Thursday night than I expected, and had more courage for my trial than I thought possible for me to have.
When the trial began and the indictment was read, I would have spoke, but th
ey told me the witnesses must be heard first and then I should have time to be heard. The witnesses were the two wenches, a couple of hard-mouthed jades indeed, for though the thing was truth in the main, yet they aggravated it to the utmost extremity and swore I had the goods wholly in my possession, that I had hid them among my clothes, that I was going off with them, that I had one foot over the threshold when they discovered themselves, and then I put t’other over, so that I was quite out of the house in the street with the goods before they took me, and then they seized me and took the goods upon me. The fact in general was true, but I insisted upon it that they stopped me before I had set my foot clear of the threshold. But that did not argue much, for I had taken the goods and was bringing them away if I had not been taken.
I pleaded that I had stole nothing, they had lost nothing, that the door was open, and I went in with design to buy. If, seeing nobody in the house, I had taken any of them up in my hand, it could not be concluded that I intended to steal them, for that I never carried them farther than the door to look on them with the better light.
The court would not allow that by any means and made a kind of jest of my intending to buy the goods, that being no shop for the selling of anything; and as to carrying them to the door to look at them, the maids made their impudent mocks upon that and spent their wit upon it very much; told the court I had looked at them sufficiently and approved them very well, for I had packed them up and was a-going with them.
