The Popish Midwife: A tale of high treason, prejudice and betrayal

by Annelisa Christensen

  Scroggs asked if I had said that to Dangerfield, and Susan said no, but that it would not surprise her. She said that Dangerfield had declared to her he had to turn rogue and discover all their Catholic plots.

  ‘What did you say to that?’ Scroggs asked curiously.

  ‘I said, he would be no greater rogue than he was before.’

  ‘You were pretty nimble with him,’ said the Lord Chief Justice, showing teeth yellowed by ale.

  ‘He thought he should be hanged.’ Susan must have been closer to Dangerfield than I had thought.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘He thought he was on the wrong side, and if he did not turn rogue he would be hanged.’ Then she turned to me, and, to my chagrin, said in front of the whole court, ‘You were very often together in your chamber.’ I could have slapped that satisfied smile off her vindictive face.

  How good we had been to her. How ungrateful she was, when we had given her every comfort. We had paid her well. She had broken bread with us. I had even given her leave to choose clothes from my wardrobe when I no longer had use for them. ‘Who gave you your clothes?’ I said.

  She ignored my rejoinder and continued to the court, ‘One morning, when her husband was at Church, Dangerfield was with Mrs Cellier in her chamber.’

  ‘What’s your purpose in saying this?’ Scroggs scrutinised her, as well he should. Even he could see vindictiveness made her say that. But, though it did not look good for me, it was no worse than had been splashed about the coffee houses this last year, according to young Bowden at the prison, who bartered the kindnesses of the bread he oft had from me with snippets from the city.

  Young Judge Jeffries again intervened. ‘Susan is a civil young woman.’

  Meaning, I suppose, her word should be believed?

  ‘I put my life in danger for her, and she said to mind my own business when I told her she should watch what she did!’ said Susan.

  Ungrateful wretch! How convenient that she forget how much I had done for her.

  She was dismissed from the stand, and with certainty from our employ, and my groom, Bennet Dowdal, was sworn in. What would they have him say!

  As it happened, he said only he had seen Dangerfield together with me, and that we had tried to make a match between himself and my friend, Mrs Mary Ayrey that I visited Newgate with, but he had never heard us talk about any plot or the king. Scroggs asked Judge Jeffries if there were any more witnesses, and was told we would have to wait until Dangerfield returned with the pardon. He then asked me, ‘Do you have any record to show Dangerfield was put in the pillory?’

  ‘Yes, My Lord.’ I handed over the record from Salisbury that I had treasured this last month, and he read out how Dangerfield had been pilloried for counterfeiting guineas there. I also handed over a record to show he was an outlaw for a felon he was still wanted for in Salisbury, and Scroggs also read that to the court.

  ‘What say you to this outlawry?’ Scroggs asked the Judge.

  ‘‘Tis not the same person.’

  How could the Judge possibly know that! Was he in the pay of the Whigs? Nay, that must not be possible. How could one trust the law that was in the hands of one side and not another! With Scroggs’s next words, I relaxed somewhat for, though his reputation was for being partial to the side of the Protestants, his next musings were most surprising.

  ‘We should be very careful we get this right, or it will be a sad day for the country if we stood back and allowed a person who has been immoral and corrupt his whole life before he came to Newgate to be responsible for taking away a woman’s life. Persons of his character are employed to discover the way of things, but when they give us the answer we seek, ‘tis hard to believe them! He has been gone so long; one might wonder whether he has taken a boat to France.’

  Scroggs then said to Captain Richardson, the Gaoler of Newgate, ‘Is this Dangerfield the same that broke Chelmsford gaol?’

  ‘Yes, My Lord, I believe it is.’

  ‘He is so convincing, he would have me believe he might fly!’ said Scroggs. ‘We will not be hoodwinked by such a fellow, guilty of so notorious crimes. Having been in the pillory, if he had been at all modest, he would not look another man in the face. It appears from this record that, not only was he burnt in the hand for theft, but he was then outlawed for felony.’

  Scroggs sounded surprised, as if he had no inkling what a scoundrel Dangerfield was, yet I had heard it the subject of many a polite and impolite debate within prison and so it must have been in society.

  Still, we waited for Dangerfield’s return. I studied the people of the court as they studied me. Some folk talked amongst themselves, and some stood in silence. I found the face of my beloved husband, Pierre, as one such. He stood still and quiet in the middle of the second row, an old man amongst the rowdy rabble.

  Around him, men fidgeted and talked either coarsely or quietly with their neighbours but, face tense, his eyes drank me in, like rain after a drought, or a cup of mulled sac15 after a long day, or as though it was the last he would ever see my face. My case rested upon proving Dangerfield a dishonourable and untrustworthy witness and Pierre had proved himself useful in aiding me, collecting evidence from divers towns fallen down in Dangerfield’s trail.

  15 (or mulled sack): a type of Spanish white wine, warmed with spices.

  But it was easier for them to punish and convict me than not to do so.

  My life was already too long for most every person there.

  I could not bear to see Pierre’s pained face. He was right. To die for truth was a noble thing, but to leave him and the children was another, one that, in the light of that same truth, I had not truly considered until now. My actions were without heed for my family, when family was all I could trust. What had I done?

  We had to wait a further half hour before Dangerfield returned holding his papers high. For him to come back, he must have believed none of it would stick on him. Scroggs took the paper from him, then read the Pardon to the court. It was in Latin, so most would not understand. He emphasize the relevant part, where it said the pardon was for ‘Omnia maleficia et utlagaria qualiacunque’, or damage due to outlawry, which Scroggs interpreted as being between two parties, instead of ‘utlagaria qualiacunque pro feloniis quibuscunque,’ which would apply to the outlawry of felonies.

  Simple as that, they ruled that Dangerfield was still an outlaw for felonies, and that his evidence should be laid aside. For a moment, I touched the fabric of the dress that sat upon the cross around my neck and gave thanks to Almighty God. He had been kind to me this day.

  But I must stay vigilant, for all was not over and Scroggs had not yet finished with Dangerfield. He walked right up to the wretch and stood as close as decorum would allow, then took one step more.

  ‘You, sir, must know we are not afraid of such fellows as you. I would like to shake you, and all like you, for your villanies.’

  Chastised by the judge, Dangerfield did not wince at this, but took on the double-appearance of a humble man whilst looking Scroggs straight in the eye as a bold one, in the manner he had with the king. ‘My Lord, this is enough to discourage a man from becoming honest!’

  That was a mistake on his part. Scrogg’s face, so close to Dangerfield’s that their noses touched at the tips, became red and his eyes wide. He slammed his hand hard on the bar in front of Dangerfield so the scoundrel jumped backwards and I nearly laughed. ‘What! How dare you, who are so notorious a villain and full of the mischief of Hell! How dare you be so impudent!’

  Justice Jones also slapped down his hand on the bench where he sat, and his loud growl said it all. ‘Indeed, if this is the man so named, he is certainly not fit as a witness!’

  ‘That he is the same man appears to be notorious. Come, Mrs Cellier, have you more to say?’

  Scroggs invitation to add to their outrage was welcome, but to be circums
pect was prudent in the face of the judge’s wrath.

  ‘Enough, My Lord.’ I let them decide if my case was proved or not, on what had been spoken, and if we were finished here. Scroggs wiped the spittle from his lips as he returned to his seat, and Dangerfield wiped his face.

  ‘Yes, you have said enough already. You need not prove more. Come, gentlemen of the jury, this is a plain case: here is but one witness in the case of treason, where there should be two, and this one is not believable. Therefore, lay your heads together.’

  He did not ask them to leave and make their decision as they should have; he would have them make it there and then.

  They found me not guilty, as they should have done.

  I silently cheered that it was the task of the horrid Clerk of the Crown, who did open the case with so many barbs, to bid me to get down on my knees, which I did. He could not prevent his mouth pouting as he swallowed his gall and cried, ‘God bless the king and the Duke of York!’ with which words I was released from captivity and had my freedom.

  Though I could now leave, I stopped still as Scroggs raised his voice. ‘Where is Dangerfield? Where has the villain gone? Call him back at once!’

  Some men at the back shouted he was there, and Dangerfield was compelled forward by hand after hand of the various persons along the aisle. Someone should be punished for today’s work, and if it was not to be me, then Dangerfield was a perfect fit for the task.

  ‘Do you have bail for your good behaviour?’

  ‘No, My Lord, but with the leave of the Court I will fetch some.’

  ‘Let a tipstaff go with him, and return before the Court rises.’

  Dangerfield, on the point of leaving, said, ‘My Lord, that cannot be, for I cannot return so soon.’

  With a smug tightening of the lips, as though he suspected, nay desired, this would be the case, Scroggs slapped his hands together and boomed, ‘Then let him be committed!’ Dangerfield’s face as he was led from the court was a picture I happily stored for bringing back time after time whenever it would lift my spirits. I smiled. A more satisfying outcome I could not have imagined.

  Before leaving, I was instructed I must give each man a guinea should the jury find me innocent.

  I had not come prepared to win and did not have twelve guineas. I knew, from listening to talk in previous trials, these men often came many miles from the city and gave their services for only a single meal as well as whatsoever they were given by an innocent prisoner. My fortune was two-fold for I had also heard that juries for treason trials were given a deal more from the king for finding a prisoner guilty than for finding him innocent. These men had passed over decent payment in order to find me not guilty, and now I had no benefit to offer them.

  On impulse, I thanked the spokesman kindly for his wisdom and said, ‘Please accept this offer of my most humble service to you and all the worthy gentlemen of your panel. If you please, I will serve your ladies in their deliveries with no less fidelity than you have done me with justice in mine.’ This price was worth a good deal to any woman that was with child, but of course, though it was freely and sincerely offered, they could not accept this gift of good value, since they were all of them Protestants and could not be served by a Catholic midwife!

  I left a jury, denied fair payment for their good judgement this day, and joined my dear Pierre. He took my hands and led me quickly from the court to murmurs of how I had run rings around the judges and could teach them a thing or two. The moment we reached a place it would be decent to do so, Pierre pulled me close in his arms and kissed me sweetly and at length. After a good while, he stopped and smiled.

  ‘The first you must do, my dearest Lizzie, is to take a bath,’ he said, ‘for though you are the sweetest treasure God could send, I would prefer it if you smelt a deal sweeter still.’

  He had no words back from me. I was done arguing my case for the day.

  22

  18th day of June, 1680

  Malice Defeated: Or a Brief Relation of the Accusation and Deliverance of Elizabeth Cellier. A long title¸ but it read well enough, though I might add some words about the book’s content.

  ‘The candles burn low, Lizzie. Come sit awhile with me.’

  At the sound of Pierre’s voice, the rats, which were come back after the Great Fire, stopped their squealing and clawing behind the cupboards in the sitting room, just as my quill nib ceased scratching across the paper in front of me. I looked at the nib. It was not so good I wanted to write with it, so I took my knife and sliced the end back to an arrow-point, as I liked it.

  ‘I will not keep you long, my turtle. I am checking some details that Edward, my scribe, wrote today in my diary. I wish to be sure everything is as I remember.’

  Though one of the longest days of summer had withdrawn most of its yellow light, Pierre had lit the reading lamp and his silhouette against the lamp’s warm glow invited me to finish writing and treat with him. He sucked on his pipe and sent tendrils of smoke to the ceiling, then picked up the open book, he had paused in reading, from his knees. The dear man was, as always, patient, but he would soon close his eyes and sleep in his chair. Age demanded it of him. He did not straight away return to his book.

  ‘I grasp the reason you wish for all to know the truth, ma chérie, but I must protest! When they see what you have written, I fear your position will have you murdered or executed. Leave this business behind. It cannot do you, nor those you write of, any good.’

  ‘If you were given it, would you forfeit this task, Pierre? Many a time you have said, ‘without truth, every lie would become real and would then become the new truth we must live by, and that would not be a world we would wish to live in.’

  ‘Oui, Oui, but ‘tis not the same for me. I am a Frenchman; a foreigner is expected to hold foreign beliefs. You are English, and they do not like how it sits on you.’

  ‘It matters not what belief a person lives by – those who wish to find reason to abuse it will do so. I am wiser now, and that wisdom has brought me closer to God. It has likely also brought me closer to the king. How strange that I stood before him a mere fortnight ago! ‘

  ‘You were in truth a success, my Lizzie. All saw how the king treated you with favour.’

  ‘Pierre, am I wrong to speak out?’

  ‘You will, I know, write whatsoever you chose no matter what I think, will you not?’ Without waiting for my nod, he continued, ‘So, even if you are taken from me and our children I must support you in writing it.’

  He could have sounded bitter uttering those words, but, rather, he sounded defeated. I had no answer for he was right. Drawing long on his pipe then, he looked at the book in his hand as if his next words should appear not to hold importance and started to speak again, quiet but clear enough that I could hear every word.

  ‘I must tell you most strongly, I would prefer that you did not write it. I cannot bear to lose you another time. I was never more lonely in my life than when you were gone before, and when I feared for you each and every day. Good fortune allowed you to escape with your life and come back to me this last time, but you must know, if Dangerfield had not proved such a scoundrel and he had not bragged so loudly of his wrongdoings, you could not have made such a convincing defence. If you publish this book of yours, you will fall into the hands of all those you speak out against, and they will most certainly take you from us. I may yet be made a widow for it.’ He paused in deep thought. ‘I should forbid you do it.’

  I did not remember him making such a speech before.

  ‘Do you regret marrying me?’ I asked.

  ‘Never! I will never regret that!’ Pierre said this with more passion than ever I expected. ‘I love you so my old heart-works might easily stop for drumming so hard whenever you are nearby, and though you are a strong woman, of their own volition, my arms yearn to enfold you and keep you safe from harm. I bathe in your charm and ba
sk in the heat of your wit every day, and each and every time I look upon our children I see you. With sincerest truth you are my life, Lizzie, and if I did not support what you do, I would only be a thorn in your foot.’

  ‘Thank you, Pierre. Merci. Your words mean everything to me! You are so good; your respect fills me to the brim with strength to speak out and say what I must, though the consequence might be dire. You know I have to tell the truth else nothing will change and the torture will continue. What use am I to the Lord then!’

  Pierre put his book down and turned old eyes on me, but I swear I never saw a man more determined nor more fearful that I nearly threw down my pen and burned my book right there. I could not stand to see the tears in his eyes as if I had already died.

  ‘You are brave, but dare not think you will dodge the Three Legged Mare at Tyburn only because you are a woman. You have seen with your own eyes how they would hang a woman as a man. ‘Tis near a year that the five Jesuits swung high and they did nothing to warrant such an end. You are, in this time, more famous than they were in theirs. You are written about in broadsheets all over London and beyond, and your effigy was burned too gleefully at the Procession. There are many that would take delight in hanging you from the gallows for faith alone, but if that were not all, they would take exception that you are a strong woman with superior wit, and their wives and lovers would have them set your dangling feet dance in time to their music.’

  ‘It will not be so bad as that, my turtle,’ I said, trying to untighten the knot inside me. ‘I have made myself competent in the law. They would have to prove I wrote the book for them to indict me for it. I will be sure to deny them that proof.’

  ‘But you will have your name on it. Is not that unlawful enough?’

  ‘Yes, love, but do you not see how often are the broadsides in the coffee houses satyrs written by other than it says in the title? No person can be sure who are the authors, but must suppose the names are nonsensical and false.’