Then my counsel, Mr Collins that, when he did visit me before in gaol, told me he did not wish to speak for such an infamous Papist as myself, said, ‘You cannot challenge anyone unless you have a cause.’
I bit down some words of reproof that he only advised me of that now and repeated sweetly, ‘I did not know that, My Lord. Then I agree he can be sworn.’
Some others sworn to the jury had that same look, as if they were given legitimate opportunity for revenge on all Catholics by judging me. I kept my mouth shut and my face calm. I did not wish them to know they agitated me. One particularly obnoxious man put his hands round his neck, let his tongue hang out the corner of his mouth and rolled his eyes in a gesture symbolising my imminent losing of the case, he hoped. I stuck out my tongue at him. My plan was contrary to his, though every person I spoke with warned me my plan was without hope.
Even my counsel, Mr Collins, warned me ere we came that there were too many witnesses against me. His only instruction was to admit nothing and that was my intention. With difficulty, I roped my mind back to the clerk’s speech.
The clerk opened the case against me.
‘You Gentleman are now sworn into the Court of Law to try the case of Elizabeth Cellier, who stands indicted, wife of Peter Cellier, of the Parish of St Clement Danes, in the County of Middlesex.’
I looked to the people’s area and found Pierre sitting motionless amongst lively men and women of the crowd shouting out or talking between their selves. He had fought my being taken again, but he could not deny what I wrote when proof was held to his face in the shape of my book. But it seemed that, when they took me, they took his spirit too, and that was the hardest to bear. I nodded minutely to him. He barely acknowledged my sign, but I saw it, and it was enough for me.
Meanwhile, the people of the courtroom hushed somewhat in order to hear the clerk proclaim the indictment. He wasted his life in this profession and might have flourished on the stage. As before, he cleverly steered the jury against me with directions to find me guilty.
‘This woman of the Popish Religion does not have the fear of God before her eyes, but is moved and seduced by the instigation of the Devil.
‘She has falsely and maliciously endeavoured to blacken the name of our Sovereign Lord King Charles the Second, as well as the Government of this kingdom and, also, the true Protestant Religion of this kingdom of England. Furthermore, she attempted to bring scandal and infamy upon divers persons produced as witnesses and that gave evidence against her and other persons indicted with high treason on the first day of September in the thirty second year of our sovereign, King Charles the Second.
‘Mrs Cellier did, in the Parish of St Clement Danes, in the County of Middlesex, falsely, maliciously and seditiously write and cause to be written, imprinted and published a scandalous libel titled ‘Malice Defeated’. Her proceedings, both before and during her confinement, are particularly related, and the mystery of the meal-tub is fully discovered, together with an abstract of her arraignment and trial. She claims it is written by herself for the satisfaction of all lovers of undisguised truth. In this said libellous book are contained these false, feigned, scandalous words following, to wit:
‘I hope it will not seem strange to any honest and loyal person of any religion that I, having been born and bred up under Protestant parents, should now openly profess myself of another church.’ In the case any lacked the wits to understand my words that were clear to any in this court, he looked to the judges and said, ‘She means the Church of Rome,’ before reading on. ‘For my education was in those times when my own parents and relations were persecuted for constant affection to the king, that was himself then murdered, and the loyal party of the Church destroyed, oppressed and ruined.
‘It was said that the authors of these villainies were Papists to make them odious, yet they assumed the name of Protestants, under which title they pretended to right all things.
‘An understanding of this produced in me more and more horror of the party that committed them, and made me curious of that religion to which they pretended the greatest antipathy, wherein, I thank God, my innate loyalty not only confirmed, but encouraged me.
‘These doctrines, agreeing to my public morals, commended charity and devotion to me. So, without scruple, I have hitherto brought myself in communion with both those who were humble instruments of His Majesty’s happy preservation from the fatal Battle at Worcester and to those who, by a pretended Protestant principle, sought his innocent blood.
‘And let calumny say what it will, I never heard from any Papists, priest, nor layman anything but that they, and all true Catholics, owe our lives to the defence of our Lawful king, whom I hope that God long and happily preserve as such. I hope these truths may satisfy an indifferent person as to the reason I first changed to the Catholic religion.’
The clerk cleared his throat as the court became noisy, and waited for angry voices to quieten. He read on.
‘Nor can anyone wonder at my continuance therein… ’ She means in the Catholic religion,’ he again explained. ‘…for, notwithstanding that the horrid crimes of treason and murder were laid at the feet of some persons of good quality and fortunes in our party, my religion gives me satisfaction of honesty and honour.
Certainly, when I reflected who were the witnesses and what unlikely things they deposed, and when I observed that many of the main sticklers for the plot were those, or the sons of those, that acted the principal parts in the last tragedy, I was convinced I made the right decision.
I say, these things made me doubtful of the whole circumstance, and the more I searched for truth, the more I stopped doubting that the old enemies of the crown were again at work for its destruction.
I, being fully confirmed in this, thought it my duty, through all sorts of hazards, to relieve the poor imprisoned Catholics that in great numbers were locked up in gaols, starving for want of bread; and this I did some months before I ever saw the Countess of Powys, or any of those honourable persons that were accused, or received one penny of their money directly or indirectly, till about the latter end of January in the year of sixteen hundred and seventy eight.’
Though the clerk delivered the words of my book as energetically as any great orator, when he paused to measure the effect of my supposed libel on the court, it remained unusually soundless and did not give any indication of their understanding of it. Still, he had not finished.
He continued, ‘And in another part of the said Libel are contained these false, feigned and scandalous words, to wit:
‘About this time, I went daily to the prisons to perform those offices of charity I was obliged to, and on Thursday, the ninth day January of that same year, I dined with the debtors in Newgate in the room called The Castle on the Masters Side. At about four in the afternoon I came down into the Lodge with other women, of which three were Protestants, and we all heard terrible groans and squeaks coming out of the dungeon called the Condemned Hole.
‘I asked Harris, the turnkey, what doleful cry it was. He said it was a woman in labour. I bid him put us into the room to her, and we would help her, but he drove us away very rudely, both from the door and out of the lodge. So we went behind the Gate and there listened, and soon found it was the voice of a strong man in torture, and heard between his groans the winding up of some engine.
‘When one of the officers of the prison came out in a great haste, seeming to run from the noise, one of us caught hold of him, saying,’ Oh! What are they doing in the prison?’ He said he dared not tell us. And when I said, ‘‘Tis a man upon the rack, I’ll lay my life on it!’ he said, ‘‘Tis something like it.’ Then I asked, ‘Is it Prance?’ he replied, ‘Pray, Madam, do not ask me, for I dare not tell you. But it is such that I am not able to hear any longer. Pray let me go.’ With that he ran away towards Holborn as fast as he could.
‘We heard these groans perfectly to the end of the O
ld Bailey. They continued till near seven of the clock, and then a person in the habit of a minister, of middle stature, grey-haired, and accompanied by two other men, went into the Lodge.
‘The prisoners were locked up, and the outwards door of the Lodge also. I set a person to stand and observe what she could.
‘A prisoner loaded with Irons was brought into the Lodge and examined a long time. Some prisoners, that were confined above, crouched down as low as they could to the floor and heard the person examined with great vehemence. They heard him in great agony say over and over, ‘I know nothing of it’, ‘I am innocent’ and, ‘Will you murder me because I will not belie myself and others?’
‘About four of the clock next morning, the prisoners that lay in that place above the Hole heard the same cry again for two hours, and on Saturday morning again. Then, about eight a clock that morning, a person I employed to spy out the truth of the affair did see the Turnkeys carrying a bed into the Hole. They told her it was for Prance, who was gone mad and had torn his bed in pieces. That night the Examiners came again and, after an hour’s conference, Prance was led away to the Press-Yard.
‘This and many things of the like nature, made me very inquisitive to know what passed in the prison.
‘Soon after this, Francis Corral, a coachman that had been put into Newgate upon suspicion of carrying away Sir Godfrey’s body, and lay thirteen weeks and three days in great misery, came out. I went to see him, and found him a sad spectacle, having the flesh worn away, and great holes in both his legs by the weight of his Irons and, having been chained so long doubled over that he could not stand upright.
‘He told me much of his hard and cruel usage, such as how he had been squeezed and hasped into a thing like a trough, in a dungeon under ground, which put him to inexpressible torment insomuch that he swooned, and that a person in the habit of a minister stood by all the while. He told me that a duke had beaten him, pulled his hair and set his drawn sword to his breast three times, swearing he would run him through.
Another great Lord laid down a heap of gold, and told him it was five hundred pounds and that he should have it all, and be taken into the aforesaid Dukes house, if he would confess what they would have him say. One F. A Vintner that lives at the sign of the Half-moon in Cheape Side, by whose contrivance he was accused, took him aside and bid him name some person that employed him to take up the dead body in Somerset Yard. The Lord gave him money for so doing, then told him that if he would do this, both F. and he should have money enough to get by.
Mr Corral also told me that he was kept from Thursday till Sunday without victuals or drink, having his hands every night chained behind him and was, all this time, locked with a chain not above a yard long to a staple driven into the floor. In this great extremity, he was forced to drink his own water for want of any drink given him. Furthermore, the Gaoler beat Corral’s wife, because she brought victuals and prayed that he might have it, then threw the milk she took him onto the ground and bid her begone and not to look at her husband.’
The clerk raised his sharp little eyes from my book and they leapt from first one to another spectator in the still crowd, and then swept from one judge to another judge. It seemed he did not know where to look, but perhaps he tested his audience if they convicted me, as did he. Of one thing I was certain, his eyes did not seek me, an insignificant actor in this play about me.
I could barely keep from shouting, ‘‘Tis not libel if ‘tis the truth!’ but uncustomary restraint caged my words. I kept my face as an unwritten page. Patience would have my witnesses tell the truth of it all soon enough. I might be made to look foolish, but I was pleased that these things were read out in court; they would become talking points in the coffee houses and ale houses, and that would be no bad thing.
‘Another part of the said libel contains, amongst other things,’ the clerk turned the leaves of my book and spoke to the court, ‘these false, feigned, and scandalous words and figures following, to wit:
In confidence of my own innocence, I continually pressed for my arraignment, so that I could know the charge against me, but I did not then know the danger to my life of encountering the Devil in the worst of his instruments: terrible perjuries encouraged by that profligate wretch, Thomas Dangerfield, that hath since been exposed to the world in his true colours, both at mine, and another’s trial thereafter.’
The clerk, still acting his part on the court stage, paused at the derisive jeers that started up then. Into his pause came shouts of, ‘Who knows the Devil’s instrument better than the Devil’s whore!’ and ‘The cook-pot dares to name the kettle black!’ Other shouts hid themselves in the rabble laughs that followed.
When he had given the crowd the stage long enough, the clerk held up his hand towards them to reclaim it, and then continued the indictment in a raised voice. They quietened enough for me to barely hear him speak. The judges leant back in the seats, seemingly indifferent to the happenings that they presided over. Perhaps they also could not hear it. I felt certain they would call for silence, but they did not.
‘And in another part of the said libel…’ said the clerk. The rest of his words were drowned by another tumultuous swell. He repeated himself louder with a pointed look at the crowd to quiet them, twitching, I thought, because he had dropped the reins of their sentiment he had failed to hold. ‘In another part of the said libel are contained these false feigned and scandalous words:
‘Nor have I since received anything towards my losses, or the least civility from anyone whilst, as a prisoner for recorded rogueries, Dangerfield was visited by persons of considerable quality with great sums of gold and silver to encourage him to undertake new villainies, not against me alone, but also against good men, both Protestant and Catholic.’
People shouted out again while the clerk turned to the place marked by his forefinger between the pages. He did not look up this time. He knew he had regained the reins enough and could now guide those behind the barrier whichever way he chose. Straight away when he found the place he looked for, he followed his finger with my words.
I listened closely to make sure he did not put in anything I did not write, nor change any word’s place so it no longer said what I meant it to. He spoke the words as I wrote them, though he said them in a different way, moulding them into accusation instead of a record of what I discovered.
‘And in another part of the said libel, called A Postscript to the Impartial Readers, are contained these false, feigned, and scandalous words following, to wit:
And whensoever His Majesty pleases to make it as safe and honourable to testify the truth as it hath been made gainful and meritorious to do the contrary – creating Hangman’s Hounds for weekly pensions or other considerations – we would not want for witnesses to verify far more than I have written.
‘This evil and dangerous example of sin offends the peace of our Sovereign Lord the king, his Crown and Dignity’, said the clerk. ‘Upon this indictment she has been arraigned and has pleaded not guilty unto it and, for her trial, places herself in the hands of the country.
So your issue is to discover whether she is guilty of this offence in the manner and form wherein she stands indicted, or not guilty. If you find her guilty you are to say so, and if you find her not guilty you are to say so and no more. Now hear the evidence.’
I recognised the junior counsel for the crown, the one that opened the indictment, as a young barrister from Buckinghamshire by the name of Robert Dormer Esquire of Lincolns-Inn, near Powys House. From some at the Jesuit trial, I understood he, being not above thirty-one years of age, became a barrister a mere five years since. His family was distantly related to me through my first husband that died at Leghorn when our children were mere infants. I was never formerly introduced to him since his family removed themselves from my circle when I married a second time.
It was common knowledge he had not stood in a court many times before.
He had the demeanour of a puppy on his first hunt, not sure of where he should find reassurance: half done gestures, flashes of uncertainty that gave him away. His voice was not unpleasant, if a little staccato.
‘May it please your Lordships and the Gentlemen of the Jury, Elizabeth Cellier, the Gentlewoman at the Bar, the wife of Peter Cellier of the parish of St. Clement Danes in the County of Middlesex, stands indicted of being the author and publisher of a Libel called Malice Defeated, or a brief Relation of the Accusation and Deliverance of Elizabeth Cellier. You have heard the Indictment read. Some clauses of this libel are recited in the words they were written, in Mrs. Cellier’s own words. I do not feel necessary to repeat every word to you.
Gentlemen, within this book are contained libels of as many different natures, and against different persons and orders of men, as there are paragraphs. His Majesty, the Protestant religion, our laws, government, magistrates, counsellors of state, courts of judicature, the king’s evidence as well as the public justice of this kingdom are all defamed by the virulence and malice of this woman’s pen.’
It was abundantly clear that, whatever tenuous family connection we had, Mr Dormer would allow me no mercy. Indeed, he was set to convict me. If his demeanour did not speak confidence, his words found approval with this audience, and if there were any that supported me here, they would be reluctant to speak for me for fear of retaliation. The noise of the crowd came down for want of hearing what I was charged with. This would be an important part of the tale to be told when they left here today.
‘In her book, she casts aspersions on the principles of our religion, the murder of His late Majesty,’ said Mr Dormer. ‘She accuses those that have done their duty and who are active in discovering The Popish Plot as enemies of the Crown, saying they re-enact the tragedy of our late civil war.
The Popish Midwife Page 28