by Daniel Defoe
terrible things came into mythoughts, viz., of parish children being starved at nurse; of theirbeing ruined, let grow crooked, lamed, and the like, for want of beingtaken care of; and this sunk my very heart within me.
But the misery of my own circumstances hardened my heart against my ownflesh and blood; and when I considered they must inevitably be starved,and I too if I continued to keep them about me, I began to be reconciledto parting with them all, anyhow and anywhere, that I might be freedfrom the dreadful necessity of seeing them all perish, and perishingwith them myself. So I agreed to go away out of the house, and leave themanagement of the whole matter to my maid Amy and to them; andaccordingly I did so, and the same afternoon they carried them all awayto one of their aunts.
Amy, a resolute girl, knocked at the door, with the children all withher, and bade the eldest, as soon as the door was open, run in, and therest after her. She set them all down at the door before she knocked,and when she knocked she stayed till a maid-servant came to the door;"Sweetheart," said she, "pray go in and tell your mistress here are herlittle cousins come to see her from ----," naming the town where welived, at which the maid offered to go back. "Here, child," says Amy,"take one of 'em in your hand, and I'll bring the rest;" so she givesher the least, and the wench goes in mighty innocently, with the littleone in her hand, upon which Amy turns the rest in after her, shuts thedoor softly, and marches off as fast as she could.
Just in the interval of this, and even while the maid and her mistresswere quarrelling (for the mistress raved and scolded her like a madwoman, and had ordered her to go and stop the maid Amy, and turn all thechildren out of the doors again; but she had been at the door, and Amywas gone, and the wench was out of her wits, and the mistress too), Isay, just at this juncture came the poor old woman, not the aunt, butthe other of the two that had been with me, and knocks at the door: theaunt did not go, because she had pretended to advocate for me, and theywould have suspected her of some contrivance; but as for the otherwoman, they did not so much as know that she had kept up anycorrespondence with me.
Amy and she had concerted this between them, and it was well enoughcontrived that they did so. When she came into the house, the mistresswas fuming, and raging like one distracted, and called the maid all thefoolish jades and sluts that she could think of, and that she would takethe children and turn them all out into the streets. The good poorwoman, seeing her in such a passion, turned about as if she would begone again, and said, "Madam, I'll come again another time, I see youare engaged." "No, no, Mrs. ----," says the mistress, "I am not muchengaged, sit down; this senseless creature here has brought in my foolof a brother's whole house of children upon me, and tells me that awench brought them to the door and thrust them in, and bade her carrythem to me; but it shall be no disturbance to me, for I have orderedthem to be set in the street without the door, and so let thechurchwardens take care of them, or else make this dull jade carry 'emback to ---- again, and let her that brought them into the world lookafter them if she will; what does she send her brats to me for?"
"The last indeed had been the best of the two," says the poor woman, "ifit had been to be done; and that brings me to tell you my errand, andthe occasion of my coming, for I came on purpose about this verybusiness, and to have prevented this being put upon you if I could, butI see I am come too late."
"How do you mean too late?" says the mistress. "What! have you beenconcerned in this affair, then? What! have you helped bring this familyslur upon us?" "I hope you do not think such a thing of me, madam," saysthe poor woman; "but I went this morning to ----, to see my old mistressand benefactor, for she had been very kind to me, and when I came to thedoor I found all fast locked and bolted, and the house looking as ifnobody was at home.
"I knocked at the door, but nobody came, till at last some of theneighbours' servants called to me and said, 'There's nobody lives there,mistress; what do you knock for?' I seemed surprised at that. 'What,nobody lives there!' said I; 'what d'ye mean? Does not Mrs. ---- livethere?' The answer was, 'No, she is gone;' at which I parleyed with oneof them, and asked her what was the matter. 'Matter!' says she, 'why, itis matter enough: the poor gentlewoman has lived there all alone, andwithout anything to subsist her a long time, and this morning thelandlord turned her out of doors.'
"'Out of doors!' says I; 'what! with all her children? Poor lambs, whatis become of them?' 'Why, truly, nothing worse,' said they, 'can come tothem than staying here, for they were almost starved with hunger; so theneighbours, seeing the poor lady in such distress, for she stood cryingand wringing her hands over her children like one distracted, sent forthe churchwardens to take care of the children; and they, when theycame, took the youngest, which was born in this parish, and have got ita very good nurse, and taken care of it; but as for the other four, theyhad sent them away to some of their father's relations, and who werevery substantial people, and who, besides that, lived in the parishwhere they were born.'
"I was not so surprised at this as not presently to foresee that thistrouble would be brought upon you or upon Mr. ----; so I came immediatelyto bring word of it, that you might be prepared for it, and might not besurprised; but I see they have been too nimble for me, so that I knownot what to advise. The poor woman, it seems, is turned out of doorsinto the street; and another of the neighbours there told me, that whenthey took her children from her she swooned away, and when theyrecovered her out of that, she ran distracted, and is put into amadhouse by the parish, for there is nobody else to take any care ofher."
This was all acted to the life by this good, kind, poor creature; forthough her design was perfectly good and charitable, yet there was notone word of it true in fact; for I was not turned out of doors by thelandlord, nor gone distracted. It was true, indeed, that at parting withmy poor children I fainted, and was like one mad when I came to myselfand found they were gone; but I remained in the house a good while afterthat, as you shall hear.
While the poor woman was telling this dismal story, in came thegentlewoman's husband, and though her heart was hardened against allpity, who was really and nearly related to the children, for they werethe children of her own brother, yet the good man was quite softenedwith the dismal relation of the circumstances of the family; and whenthe poor woman had done, he said to his wife, "This is a dismal case,my dear, indeed, and something must be done." His wife fell a-raving athim: "What," says she, "do you want to have four children to keep? Havewe not children of our own? Would you have these brats come and eat upmy children's bread? No, no, let 'em go to the parish, and let them takecare of them; I'll take care of my own."
"Come, come, my dear," says the husband, "charity is a duty to the poor,and he that gives to the poor lends to the Lord; let us lend ourheavenly Father a little of our children's bread, as you call it; itwill be a store well laid up for them, and will be the best securitythat our children shall never come to want charity, or be turned out ofdoors, as these poor innocent creatures are." "Don't tell me ofsecurity," says the wife, "'tis a good security for our children to keepwhat we have together, and provide for them, and then 'tis time enoughto help keep other folks' children. Charity begins at home."
"Well, my dear," says he again, "I only talk of putting out a littlemoney to interest: our Maker is a good borrower; never fear making a baddebt there, child, I'll be bound for it."
"Don't banter me with your charity and your allegories," says the wifeangrily; "I tell you they are my relations, not yours, and they shallnot roost here; they shall go to the parish."
"All your relations are my relations now," says the good gentleman verycalmly, "and I won't see your relations in distress, and not pity them,any more than I would my own; indeed, my dear, they shan't go to theparish. I assure you, none of my wife's relations shall come to theparish, if I can help it."
"What! will you take four children to keep?" says the wife.
"No, no, my dear," says he, "there's your sister ----, I'll go and talkwith her; and your uncle ----, I'll send for him, and the rest. I'l
lwarrant you, when we are all together, we will find ways and means tokeep four poor little creatures from beggary and starving, or else itwould be very hard; we are none of us in so bad circumstances but we areable to spare a mite for the fatherless. Don't shut up your bowels ofcompassion against your own flesh and blood. Could you hear these poorinnocent children cry at your door for hunger, and give them no bread?"
"Prithee, what need they cry at our door?" says she. "'Tis the businessof the parish to provide for