by Daniel Defoe
a pleasureto me.
We lived in an uninterrupted course of ease and content for five years,when a sudden blow from an almost invisible hand blasted all myhappiness, and turned me out into the world in a condition the reverseof all that had been before it.
My husband having trusted one of his fellow-clerks with a sum of money,too much for our fortunes to bear the loss of, the clerk failed, andthe loss fell very heavy on my husband, yet it was not so great neitherbut that, if he had had spirit and courage to have looked hismisfortunes in the face, his credit was so good that, as I told him, hewould easily recover it; for to sink under trouble is to double theweight, and he that will die in it, shall die in it.
It was in vain to speak comfortably to him; the wound had sunk toodeep; it was a stab that touched the vitals; he grew melancholy anddisconsolate, and from thence lethargic, and died. I foresaw the blow,and was extremely oppressed in my mind, for I saw evidently that if hedied I was undone.
I had had two children by him and no more, for, to tell the truth, itbegan to be time for me to leave bearing children, for I was noweight-and-forty, and I suppose if he had lived I should have had nomore.
I was now left in a dismal and disconsolate case indeed, and in severalthings worse than ever. First, it was past the flourishing time withme when I might expect to be courted for a mistress; that agreeablepart had declined some time, and the ruins only appeared of what hadbeen; and that which was worse than all this, that I was the mostdejected, disconsolate creature alive. I that had encouraged myhusband, and endeavoured to support his spirits under his trouble,could not support my own; I wanted that spirit in trouble which I toldhim was so necessary to him for bearing the burthen.
But my case was indeed deplorable, for I was left perfectly friendlessand helpless, and the loss my husband had sustained had reduced hiscircumstances so low, that though indeed I was not in debt, yet I couldeasily foresee that what was left would not support me long; that whileit wasted daily for subsistence, I had not way to increase it oneshilling, so that it would be soon all spent, and then I saw nothingbefore me but the utmost distress; and this represented itself solively to my thoughts, that it seemed as if it was come, before it wasreally very near; also my very apprehensions doubled the misery, for Ifancied every sixpence that I paid for a loaf of bread was the lastthat I had in the world, and that to-morrow I was to fast, and bestarved to death.
In this distress I had no assistant, no friend to comfort or advise me;I sat and cried and tormented myself night and day, wringing my hands,and sometimes raving like a distracted woman; and indeed I have oftenwondered it had not affected my reason, for I had the vapours to such adegree, that my understanding was sometimes quite lost in fancies andimaginations.
I lived two years in this dismal condition, wasting that little I had,weeping continually over my dismal circumstances, and, as it were, onlybleeding to death, without the least hope or prospect of help from Godor man; and now I had cried too long, and so often, that tears were, asI might say, exhausted, and I began to be desperate, for I grew poorapace.
For a little relief I had put off my house and took lodgings; and as Iwas reducing my living, so I sold off most of my goods, which put alittle money in my pocket, and I lived near a year upon that, spendingvery sparingly, and eking things out to the utmost; but still when Ilooked before me, my very heart would sink within me at the inevitableapproach of misery and want. Oh let none read this part withoutseriously reflecting on the circumstances of a desolate state, and howthey would grapple with mere want of friends and want of bread; it willcertainly make them think not of sparing what they have only, but oflooking up to heaven for support, and of the wise man's prayer, 'Giveme not poverty, lest I steal.'
Let them remember that a time of distress is a time of dreadfultemptation, and all the strength to resist is taken away; povertypresses, the soul is made desperate by distress, and what can be done?It was one evening, when being brought, as I may say, to the last gasp,I think I may truly say I was distracted and raving, when prompted by Iknow not what spirit, and, as it were, doing I did not know what orwhy, I dressed me (for I had still pretty good clothes) and went out.I am very sure I had no manner of design in my head when I went out; Ineither knew nor considered where to go, or on what business; but asthe devil carried me out and laid his bait for me, so he brought me, tobe sure, to the place, for I knew not whither I was going or what I did.
Wandering thus about, I knew not whither, I passed by an apothecary'sshop in Leadenhall Street, when I saw lie on a stool just before thecounter a little bundle wrapped in a white cloth; beyond it stood amaid-servant with her back to it, looking towards the top of the shop,where the apothecary's apprentice, as I suppose, was standing upon thecounter, with his back also to the door, and a candle in his hand,looking and reaching up to the upper shelf for something he wanted, sothat both were engaged mighty earnestly, and nobody else in the shop.
This was the bait; and the devil, who I said laid the snare, as readilyprompted me as if he had spoke, for I remember, and shall never forgetit, 'twas like a voice spoken to me over my shoulder, 'Take the bundle;be quick; do it this moment.' It was no sooner said but I stepped intothe shop, and with my back to the wench, as if I had stood up for acart that was going by, I put my hand behind me and took the bundle,and went off with it, the maid or the fellow not perceiving me, or anyone else.
It is impossible to express the horror of my soul all the while I didit. When I went away I had no heart to run, or scarce to mend my pace.I crossed the street indeed, and went down the first turning I came to,and I think it was a street that went through into Fenchurch Street.From thence I crossed and turned through so many ways and turnings,that I could never tell which way it was, not where I went; for I feltnot the ground I stepped on, and the farther I was out of danger, thefaster I went, till, tired and out of breath, I was forced to sit downon a little bench at a door, and then I began to recover, and found Iwas got into Thames Street, near Billingsgate. I rested me a littleand went on; my blood was all in a fire; my heart beat as if I was in asudden fright. In short, I was under such a surprise that I still knewnot wither I was going, or what to do.
After I had tired myself thus with walking a long way about, and soeagerly, I began to consider and make home to my lodging, where I cameabout nine o'clock at night.
When the bundle was made up for, or on what occasion laid where I foundit, I knew not, but when I came to open it I found there was a suit ofchildbed-linen in it, very good and almost new, the lace very fine;there was a silver porringer of a pint, a small silver mug and sixspoons, with some other linen, a good smock, and three silkhandkerchiefs, and in the mug, wrapped up in a paper, 18s. 6d. in money.
All the while I was opening these things I was under such dreadfulimpressions of fear, and I such terror of mind, though I was perfectlysafe, that I cannot express the manner of it. I sat me down, and criedmost vehemently. 'Lord,' said I, 'what am I now? a thief! Why, Ishall be taken next time, and be carried to Newgate and be tried for mylife!' And with that I cried again a long time, and I am sure, as pooras I was, if I had durst for fear, I would certainly have carried thethings back again; but that went off after a while. Well, I went tobed for that night, but slept little; the horror of the fact was uponmy mind, and I knew not what I said or did all night, and all the nextday. Then I was impatient to hear some news of the loss; and wouldfain know how it was, whether they were a poor body's goods, or a rich.'Perhaps,' said I, 'it may be some poor widow like me, that had packedup these goods to go and sell them for a little bread for herself and apoor child, and are now starving and breaking their hearts for want ofthat little they would have fetched.' And this thought tormented meworse than all the rest, for three or four days' time.
But my own distresses silenced all these reflections, and the prospectof my own starving, which grew every day more frightful to me, hardenedmy heart by degrees. It was then particularly heavy upon my mind, thatI had been reformed, and had, as I ho
ped, repented of all my pastwickedness; that I had lived a sober, grave, retired life for severalyears, but now I should be driven by the dreadful necessity of mycircumstances to the gates of destruction, soul and body; and two orthree times I fell upon my knees, praying to God, as well as I could,for deliverance; but I cannot but say, my prayers had no hope in them.I knew not what to do; it was all fear without, and dark within; and Ireflected on my past life as not sincerely repented of, that Heaven wasnow beginning to punish me on this side the grave, and would make me asmiserable as I had been wicked.
Had I gone on here I had perhaps been a true penitent; but I had anevil counsellor within, and he was continually prompting me to relievemyself by the worst means; so one evening he tempted me again, by thesame wicked impulse that had said 'Take that bundle,' to go out againand seek for what might happen.
I went out now by daylight, and wandered about I