No More Learning

The watchman knew not what to make of all this, so he let
them alone till the morning man, or day watchman, as they
called him, came to relieve him. Giving him an account of the
particulars, they knocked at the door a great while, but nobody
answered, and they observed that the window or casement at
which the person looked out who had answered before, continued
open, being up two pair of stairs.
Upon this the two men, to satisfy their curiosity, got a long
ladder, and one of them went up to the window and looked into
the room, where he saw a woman lying dead upon the floor in
a dismal manner, having no clothes on her but her shift; but
though he called aloud, and putting in his long staff, knocked
hard on the floor, yet nobody stirred or answered; neither could
he hear any noise in the house.
He came down upon this, and acquainted his fellow, who
went up also, and finding it just so, they resolved to acquaint
either the lord mayor or some other magistrate of it, but did
not offer to go in at the window. The magistrate, it seems,
upon the information of the two men ordered the house to be
broken open, a constable and other persons being appointed to
be present, that nothing might be plundered; and accordingly it
was so done, when nobody was found in the house but that
young woman, who having been infected and past recovery, the


## p. 4496 (#274) ###########################################

4496
DANIEL DEFOE
rest had left her to die by herself, and every one gone, having
found some way to delude the watchman and to get open the
door, or get out at some back door, or over the tops of the
houses, so that he knew nothing of it; and as to those cries and
shrieks which he heard, it was supposed they were the passionate
cries of the family at this bitter parting, which to be sure it was
to them all, this being the sister to the mistress of the family.
The man of the house, his wife, several children and servants,
being all gone and fled; whether sick or sound, that I could
never learn, nor indeed did I make much inquiry after it.
MORAL EFFECTS OF THE PLAGUE
Here we may observe, and I hope it will not be amiss to
take notice of it, that a near view of death would soon reconcile
men of good principles one to another, and that it is chiefly
owing to our easy situation in life, and our putting these things
far from us, that our breaches are fomented, ill blood continued,
prejudices, breach of charity and of Christian union so much
kept and so far carried on among us as it is: another plague
year would reconcile all these differences; a close conversing with
death or with diseases that threaten death would scum off the
gall from our tempers, remove the animosities among us, and
bring us to see with differing eyes than those which we looked
on things before; as the people who had been used to join with
the church were reconciled at this time with the admitting
the Dissenters, who with an uncommon prejudice had broken off
from the communion of the Church of England, were now con-
tent to come to their parish churches, and to conform to the
worship which they did not approve of before; but as the terror
of the infection abated, those things all returned again to their
less desirable channel, and to the course they were in before.
I mention this but historically. I have no mind to enter into
arguments to move either or both sides to a more charitable com-
pliance one with another; I do not see that it is probable such a
discourse would be either suitable or successful; the breaches
seem rather to widen, and tend to a widening farther than to
closing; and who am I that I should think myself able to influ
ence either one side or the other? But this I may repeat again,
that it is evident death will reconcile us all-on the other side
the grave we shall be all brethren again; in heaven, whither


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DANIEL DEFOE
4497
I hope we may come from all parties and persuasions, we shall
find neither prejudice nor scruple; there we shall be of one prin-
ciple and of one opinion. Why we cannot be content to go hand
in hand to the place where we shall join heart and hand, with-
out the least hesitation and with the most complete harmony.
and affection; I say, why we cannot do so here, I can say noth-
ing to, neither shall I say anything more of it but that it remains
to be lamented.
TERRIBLE SCENES IN THE STREETS
This [38,195 deaths in about a month] was a prodigious num-
ber of itself; but if I should add the reasons which I have to
believe that this account was deficient, and how deficient it was,
you would with me make no scruple to believe that there died
above 10,000 a week for all those weeks, and a proportion for
several weeks both before and after. The confusion among the
people, especially within the city, at that time was inexpressible;
the terror was so great at last that the courage of the people
appointed to carry away the dead began to fail them; nay, several
of them died, although they had the distemper before, and were
recovered; and some of them dropped down when they had been
carrying the bodies even at the pitside, and just ready to throw
them in; and this confusion was greater in the city, because they
had flattered themselves with hopes of escaping, and thought the
bitterness of death was past. One cart, they told us, going up
to Shoreditch, was forsaken by the drivers, or being left to one
man to drive, he died in the street; and the horses, going on,
overthrew the cart and left the bodies, some thrown here, some
there, in a dismal manner. Another cart was, it seems, found in
the great pit in Finsbury Fields, the driver being dead, or having
been gone and abandoned it; and the horses running too near it,
the cart fell in and drew the horses in also. It was suggested
that the driver was thrown in with it and that the cart fell upon
him, by reason his whip was seen to be in the pit among the
bodies; but that, I suppose, could not be certain.
In our parish of Aldgate the dead-carts were several times,
as I have heard, found standing at the churchyard gate, full of
dead bodies; but neither bellman, nor driver, nor any one else
with it. Neither in these nor in many other cases did they know
what bodies they had in their cart, for sometimes they were let
down with ropes out of balconies and out of windows; and some-
VIII-282


## p. 4498 (#276) ###########################################

4498
DANIEL DEFOE
times the bearers brought them to the cart, sometimes other
people; nor, as the men themselves said, did they trouble them-
selves to keep any account of the numbers.
THE PLAGUE DUE TO NATURAL CAUSES
I would be far from lessening the awe of the judgments of
God, and the reverence to his Providence, which ought always
to be on our minds on such occasions as these; doubtless the
visitation itself is a stroke from heaven upon a city, or country,
or nation where it falls, a messenger of his vengeance, and a
loud call to that nation, or country, or city, to humiliation and
repentance, according to that of the prophet Jeremiah, xviii.
7, 8: "At what instant I shall speak concerning a nation, and
concerning a kingdom to pluck up, and pull down, and destroy
it; if that nation against whom I have pronounced turn from
their evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to do unto
them. " Now to prompt due impressions of the awe of God on
the minds of men on such occasions, and not to lessen them,
it is that I have left those minutes upon record.
I say, therefore, I reflect upon no man for putting the reason
of those things upon the immediate hand of God, and the
appointment and direction of his Providence; nay, on the con-
trary there were many wonderful deliverances of persons when
infected, which intimate singular and remarkable Providence in
the particular instances to which they refer; and I esteem my
own deliverance to be one next to miraculous, and do record it
with thankfulness.
But when I am speaking of the plague as a distemper arising
from natural causes, we must consider it as it was really propa-
gated by natural means; nor is it at all the less a judgment for
its being under the conduct of human causes and effects: for as
the Divine power has formed the whole scheme of nature, and
maintains nature in its course, so the same power thinks fit to
let his own actings with men, whether of mercy or judgment, to
go on in the ordinary course of natural causes, and he is pleased
to act by those natural causes as the ordinary means; excepting
and reserving to himself nevertheless a power to act in a super-
natural way when he sees occasion. Now it is evident that in
the case of an infection there is no apparent extraordinary occa-
sion for supernatural operation, but the ordinary course of things.


## p. 4499 (#277) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4499
appears sufficiently armed and made capable of all the effects
that heaven usually directs by a contagion. Among these causes
and effects, this of the secret conveyance of infection, impercep-
tible and unavoidable, is more than sufficient to execute the
fierceness of Divine vengeance, without putting it upon super-
naturals and miracles.
This acute penetrating nature of the disease itself was such,
and the infection was received so imperceptibly, that the most
exact caution could not secure us while in the place; but I must
be allowed to believe, and I have so many examples fresh in
my memory to convince me of it that I think none can resist
their evidence,-I say, I must be allowed to believe that no one
in this whole nation ever received the sickness or infection but
who received it in the ordinary way of infection from somebody,
or the clothes, or touch, or stench of somebody that was infected
'before.
SPREAD OF THE PLAGUE THROUGH NEcessities of THE POOR
Before people came to right notions of the infection, and
of infecting one another, people were only shy of those that
were really sick; a man with a cap upon his head, or with
cloths round his neck, which was the case of those that had
swellings there,- such was indeed frightful. But when we saw a
gentleman dressed, with his band on, and his gloves in his hand,
his hat upon his head, and his hair combed, of such we had not
the least apprehensions, and people conversed a great while
freely, especially with their neighbors and such as they knew.
But when the physicians assured us that the danger was as well
from the sound,- that is, the seemingly sound, as the sick, and
that those people that thought themselves entirely free were often-
times the most fatal; and that it came to be generally understood.
that people were sensible of it, and of the reason of it; then, I
say, they began, to be jealous of everybody, and a vast number of
people locked themselves up so as not to come abroad into any
company at all, nor suffer any that had been abroad in promis-
cuous company to come into their houses or near them; at least
not so near them as to be within the reach of their breath or of
any smell from them; and when they were obliged to con-
verse at a distance with strangers, they would always have
preservatives in their mouths, and about their clothes, to repel
and keep off the infection.
-


## p. 4500 (#278) ###########################################

4500
DANIEL DEFOE
It must be acknowledged that when people began to use these
cautions, they were less exposed to danger, and the infection did
not break into such houses so furiously as it did into others
before; and thousands of families were preserved, speaking with
due reserve to the direction of divine Providence, by that means.
But it was impossible to beat anything into the heads of the
poor; they went on with the usual impetuosity of their tempers,
full of outcries and lamentations when taken, but madly careless
of themselves, foolhardy and obstinate, while they were well.
Where they could get employment, they pushed into any kind of
business, the most dangerous and the most liable to infection;
and if they were spoken to, their answer would be:-"I must
trust in God for that; if I am taken, then I am provided for,
and there is an end of me;" and the like. Or thus:-"Why,
what must I do? I cannot starve; I had as good have the
plague as perish for want; I have no work, what could I do?
I must do this or beg. " Suppose it was burying the dead, or
attending the sick, or watching infected houses, which were all
terrible hazards; but their tale was generally the same. It is
true, necessity was a justifiable, warrantable plea, and nothing
could be better; but their way of talk was much the same where
the necessities were not the same. This adventurous conduct of
the poor was that which brought the plague among them in a
most furious manner; and this, joined to the distress of their cir-
cumstances when taken, was the reason why they died so by
heaps; for I cannot say I could observe one jot of better hus-
bandry among them, I mean the laboring poor,-while they
were all well and getting money, than there was before, but as
lavish, as extravagant, and as thoughtless for to-morrow as ever;
so that when they came to be taken sick, they were immedi-
ately in the utmost distress, as well for want as for sickness, as
well for lack of food as lack of health.
-


## p. 4501 (#279) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4501
FROM
COLONEL JACK›
COLONEL JACK AND CAPTAIN JACK ESCAPE ARREST
WE HAD not parleyed thus long, but though in the dead of
W* the night, came a man to the other inn door-for as I
said above, there are two inns at that place — and called
for a pot of beer; but the people were all in bed, and would not
rise; he asked them if they had seen two fellows come that way
upon one horse. The man said he had; that they went by in
the afternoon, and asked the way to Cambridge, but did not stop
only to drink one mug. "Oh! " says he, are they gone to Cam-
bridge? Then I'll be with them quickly. " I was awake in a
little garret of the next inn, where we lodged; and hearing the
fellow call at the door, got up and went to the window, having
some uneasiness at every noise I heard; and by that means heard
the whole story.
Now the case is plain, our hour was not come;
our fate had determined other things for us, and we were to be
reserved for it. The matter was thus: -When we first came to
Bournbridge we called at the first house and asked the way
to Cambridge, drank a mug of beer, and went on, and they
might see us turn off to go the way they directed; but night
coming on, and we being very weary, we thought we should not
find the way; and we came back in the dusk of the evening and
went into the other house, being the first as we came back, as
that where we called before was the first as we went forward.
You may be sure I was alarmed now, as indeed I had reason
to be. The Captain was in bed and fast asleep, but I wakened
him, and roused him with a noise that frighted him enough.
"Rise, Jack," said I, "we are both ruined; they are come after
us hither. " Indeed, I was wrong to terrify him at that rate; for
he started and jumped out of bed and ran directly to the win-
dow, not knowing where he was, and not quite awake, was just
going to jump out of the window, but I laid hold of him.
"I won't be taken," says
་
What are you going to do? " says I.
he; "let me alone; where are they? "
This was all confusion; and he was so out of himself with the
fright, and being overcome with sleep, that I had much to do to
prevent his jumping out of the window. However, I held him.
fast and thoroughly wakened him, and then all was well again.
and he was presently composed.


## p. 4502 (#280) ###########################################

4502
DANIEL DEFOE
Then I told him the story, and we sat together upon the bed-
side, considering what we should do; upon the whole, as the fel-
low that called was apparently gone to Cambridge, we had
nothing to fear, but to be quiet till daybreak, and then to mount
and be gone.
Accordingly, as soon as day peeped we were up; and having
happily informed ourselves of the road at the other house, and
being told that the road to Cambridge turned off on the left
hand, and that the road to Newmarket lay straight forward: I
say, having learnt this, the Captain told me he would walk away
on foot towards Newmarket, and so when I came to go out I
should appear as a single traveler; and accordingly he went out
immediately, and away he walked, and he traveled so hard that
when I came to follow I thought once that he had dropped me,
for though I rode hard, I got no sight of him for an hour. At
length, having passed the great bank called the Devil's Ditch, I
found him and took him up behind me, and we rode double till
we came almost to the end of Newmarket town. Just at the
hither house in the town stood a horse at a door, just as it was
at Puckeridge. "Now," says Jack, "if the horse was at the
other end of the town I would have him, as sure as we had the
other at Puckeridge; " but it would not do; so he got down, and
walked through the town on the right-hand side of the way.
He had not got half through the town, but the horse, having
somehow or other got loose, came trotting gently on by himself,
and nobody following him. The Captain, an old soldier at such
work, as soon as the horse was got a pretty way before him, and
that he saw nobody followed, sets up a run after the horse, and
the horse, hearing him follow, ran the faster; then the Captain
calls out, "Stop the horse! " and by this time the horse was got
almost to the farther end of the town; the people of the house
where he stood not missing him all the while.
Upon his calling out "Stop the horse! " the poor people of
the town, such as were next at hand, ran from both sides of the
way and stopped the horse for him, as readily as could be, and
held him for him till he came up; he very gravely comes up to
the horse, hits him a blow or two, and calls him "dog" for run
ning away; gives the man twopence that catched him for him,
mounts, and away he comes after me.
This was the oddest adventure that could have happened, for
the horse stole the Captain, the Captain did not steal the horse.


## p. 4503 (#281) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4503
When he came up to me, "Now, Colonel Jack," says he, "what
do you say to good luck? Would you have had me refuse the
horse, when he came so civilly to ask me to ride? "-"No, no,”
said I; "you have got this horse by your wit, not by design; and
you may go on now, I think; you are in a safer condition than
I am, if we are taken. "
COLONEL JACK FINDS CAPTAIN JACK HARD TO MANAGE
We arrived here very easy and safe, and while we were con-
sidering of what way we should travel next, we found we were
got to a point, and that there was no way now left but that by
the Washes into Lincolnshire, and that was represented as very
dangerous; so an opportunity offering of a man that was travel-
ing over the fens, we took him for our guide, and went with him
to Spalding, and from thence to a town called Deeping, and so
to Stamford in Lincolnshire.
This is a large populous town, and it was market day when
we came to it; so we put in at a little house at the hither end
of the town, and walked into the town. Here it was not possible
to restrain my Captain from playing his feats of art, and my
heart ached for him; I told him I would not go with him, for he
would not promise to leave off, and I was so terribly concerned
at the apprehensions of his venturous humor that I would not so
much as stir out of my lodging; but it was in vain to persuade
him. He went into the market and found a mountebank there,
which was what he wanted. How he picked two pockets there
in one quarter of an hour, and brought to our quarters a piece
of new holland of eight or nine ells, a piece of stuff, and played
three or four pranks more in less than two hours; and how after-
wards he robbed a doctor of physic, and yet came off clear in
them: all this, I say, as above, belongs to his story, not mine.
I scolded heartily at him when he came back, and told him he
would certainly ruin himself and me too before he left off, and
threatened in so many words that I would leave him and go
back, and carry the horse to Puckeridge, where we borrowed it,
and so go to London by myself.
He promised amendment, but as we resolved (now we were
in the great road) to travel by night, so, it being not yet night,
he gives me the slip again; and was not gone half an hour, but
he comes back with a gold watch in his hand.
"Come," says he,


## p. 4504 (#282) ###########################################

4504
DANIEL DEFOE
"why ain't you ready? I am ready to go as soon as you will: "
and with that he pulls out the gold watch. I was amazed at
such a thing as that in a country town; but it seems there were
prayers at one of the churches in the evening, and he, placing
himself as the occasion directed, found the way to be so near a
lady as to get it from her side, and walked off with it unper-
ceived.
The same night we went away by moonlight, after having
the satisfaction to hear the watch cried, and ten guineas offered
for it again; he would have been glad of the ten guineas instead
of the watch, but durst not venture to carry it home. "Well,"
says I, "you are afraid, and indeed you have reason; give it to
me; I will venture to carry it again;" but he would not let me,
but told me that when we came into Scotland we might sell any-
thing there without danger; which was true indeed, for there
they asked us no questions.
We set out, as I said, in the evening by moonlight, and
traveled hard, the road being very plain and large, till we came
to Grantham, by which time it was about two in the morning,
and all the town as it were dead asleep; so we went on for
Newark, where we reached about eight in the morning, and there
we lay down and slept most of the day; and by this sleeping so
continually in the daytime, I kept him from doing a great deal
of mischief which he would otherwise have done.
COLONEL JACK'S FIRST WIFE IS NOT DISPOSED TO BE ECONOMICAL
We soon found a house proper for our dwelling, and so went
to housekeeping; we had not been long together but I found
that gay temper of my wife returned, and she threw off the
mask of her gravity and good conduct that I had so long fancied
was her mere natural disposition, and now, having no more
occasion for disguises, she resolved to seem nothing but what
she really was, a wild untamed colt, perfectly loose, and careless
to conceal any part, no, not the worst of her conduct.
She carried on this air of levity to such an excess that I
could not but be dissatisfied at the expense of it, for she kept
company that I did not like, lived beyond what I could support,
and sometimes lost at play more than I cared to pay; upon
which one day I took occasion to mention it, but lightly, and


## p. 4505 (#283) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4505
said to her by way of raillery that we lived merrily for as long
as it would last. She turned short upon me:
"What do you
mean? " says she; "why, you do not pretend to be uneasy, do
ye ? »
"No, no, madam, not I, by no means; it is no business
of mine, you know," said I, "to inquire what my wife spends,
or whether she spends more than I can afford, or less; I only
desire the favor to know, as near as you can guess, how long
you will please to take to dispatch me, for I would not be too
long a-dying. ”
"I do not know what you talk of," says she. "You may die
as leisurely or as hastily as you please, when your time comes;
I ain't a-going to kill you, as I know of. "
«<
"But you are going to starve me, madam," said I; and
hunger is as leisurely a death as breaking upon the wheel. "
"I starve you! why, are not you a great Virginia merchant,
and did not I bring you £1500? What would you have? Sure,
you can maintain a wife out of that, can't you? "
"Yes, madam," says I, "I could maintain a wife, but not a
gamester, though you had brought me £1500 a year; no estate
is big enough for a box and dice. "
She took fire at that, and flew out in a passion, and after a
great many bitter words told me in short that she saw no occa-
sion to alter her conduct; and as for not maintaining her, when
I could not maintain her longer she would find some way or
other to maintain herself.
Some time after the first rattle of this kind she vouchsafed to
let me know that she was pleased to be with child; I was at
first glad of it, in hopes it would help to abate her madness;
but it was all one, and her being with child only added to the
rest, for she made such preparations for her lying-in, and other
appendixes of a child's being born, that in short I found she
would be downright distracted; and I took the liberty to tell her
one day she would soon bring herself and me to destruction, and
entreated her to consider that such figures as those were quite
above us and out of our circle; and in short, that I neither
could nor would allow such expenses; that at this rate two or
three children would effectually ruin me, and that I desired her
to consider what she was doing.
She told me with an air of disdain that it was none of her
business to consider anything of that matter; that if I could not
allow it she would allow it herself, and I might do my worst.


## p. 4506 (#284) ###########################################

4506
DANIEL DEFOE
I begged her to consider things for all that, and not drive me
to extremities; that I married her to love and cherish her, and
use her as a good wife ought to be used, but not to be ruined
and undone by her. In a word, nothing could mollify her, nor
any argument persuade her to moderation; but withal she took it
so heinously that I should pretend to restrain her, that she told
me in so many words she would drop her burthen with me, and
then if I did not like it she would take care of herself; she
would not live with me an hour, for she would not be restrained,
not she; and talked a long while at that rate.
I told her, as to her child, which she called her burthen, it
should be no burthen to me; as to the rest she might do as she
pleased; it might however do me this favor, that I should have
no more lyings-in at the rate of £136 at a time, as I found she
intended it should be now. She told me she could not tell that;
if she had no more by me, she hoped she should by somebody
else. "Say you so, madam? " said I; "then they that get them
shall keep them. " She did not know that neither, she said, and
so turned it off jeering, and as it were laughing at me.
This last discourse nettled me, I must confess, and the more
because I had a great deal of it and very often; till, in short,
we began at length to enter into a friendly treaty about parting.
Nothing could be more criminal than the several discourses
we had upon this subject; she demanded a separate maintenance,
and in particular, at the rate of £300 a year; and I demanded
security of her that she should not run me in debt; she demand-
ing the keeping of the child, with an allowance of £100 a year
for that, and I demanding that I should be secured from being
charged for keeping any she might have by somebody else, as
she had threatened me.
In the interval, and during these contests, she dropped her
burthen (as she called it), and brought me a son, a very fine
child.
She was content during her lying-in to abate a little, though
it was but a very little indeed, of the great expense she had
intended; and with some difficulty and persuasion was content
with a suit of child-bed linen of £15 instead of one she had
intended of threescore; and this she magnified as a particular
testimony of her condescension, and a yielding to my avaricious
temper, as she called it.


## p. 4507 (#285) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4507
THE DEVIL DOES NOT CONCERN HIMSELF WITH PETTY
MATTERS
From The Modern History of the Devil›
NOR
OR will I undertake to tell you, till I have talked farther
with him about it, how far the Devil is concerned to dis-
cover frauds, detect murders, reveal secrets, and espe-
cially to tell where any money is hid, and show folks where to
find it; it is an odd thing that Satan should think it of conse-
quence to come and tell us where such a miser hid a strong box,
or where such an old woman buried her chamberpot full of
money, the value of all which is perhaps but a trifle, when,
at the same time he lets so many veins of gold, so many un-
exhausted mines, nay, mountains of silver (as we may depend on
it are hid in the bowels of the earth, and which it would be so
much to the good of whole nations to discover), lie still there,
and never say one word of them to anybody. Besides, how does
the Devil's doing things so foreign to himself, and so out of his
way, agree with the rest of his character; namely, showing a
friendly disposition to mankind, or doing beneficent things?
This is so beneath Satan's quality, and looks so little, that I
scarce know what to say to it; but that which is still more pun-
gent in the case is, these things are so out of his road, and so
foreign to his calling, that it shocks our faith in them, and seems
to clash with all the just notions we have of him and of his
business in the world. The like is to be said of those merry
little turns we bring him in acting with us and upon us upon
trifling and simple occasions, such as tumbling chairs and stools
about house, setting pots and kettles bottom upward, tossing
the glass and crockery-ware about without breaking, and such-
like mean foolish things, beneath the dignity of the Devil, who
in my opinion is rather employed in setting the world with the
bottom upward, tumbling kings and crowns about, and dashing
the nations one against another; raising tempests and storms,
whether at sea or on shore; and in a word, doing capital mis-
chiefs, suitable to his nature and agreeable to his name Devil,
and suited to that circumstance of his condition which I have
fully represented in the primitive part of his exiled state.
But to bring in the Devil playing at push-pin with the world,
or like Domitian, catching flies,- that is to say, doing nothing to


## p. 4508 (#286) ###########################################

4508
DANIEL DEFOE
the purpose, this is not only deluding ourselves, but putting a
slur upon the Devil himself; and I say, I shall not dishonor
Satan so much as to suppose anything in it; however, as I must
have a care too how I take away the proper materials of winter-
evening frippery, and leave the goodwives nothing of the Devil
to frighten the children with, I shall carry the weighty point no
farther. No doubt the Devil and Dr. Faustus were very inti-
mate; I should rob you of a very significant proverb if I should
so much as doubt it. No doubt the Devil showed himself in the
glass to that fair lady who looked in to see where to place her
patches; but then it should follow too that the Devil is an enemy
to the ladies wearing patches, and that has some difficulties in it
which we cannot easily reconcile; but we must tell the story,
and leave out the consequences.
――――
DEFOE ADDRESSES HIS PUBLIC
From An Appeal to Honor and Justice'
I
HOPE the time has come at last when the voice of moderate
principles may be heard. Hitherto the noise has been sc
great, and the prejudices and passions of men so strong, that
it had been but in vain to offer at any argument, or for any
man to talk of giving a reason for his actions; and this alone
has been the cause why, when other men, who I think have less
to say in their own defense, are appealing to the public and strug
gling to defend themselves, I alone have been silent under the infi-
nite clamors and reproaches, causeless curses, unusual threatenings,
and the most unjust and unjurious treatment in the world.
I hear much of people's calling out to punish the guilty, but
very few are concerned to clear the innocent. I hope some will
be inclined to judge impartially, and have yet reserved so much
of the Christian as to believe, and at least to hope, that a
rational creature cannot abandon himself so as to act without
some reason, and are willing not only to have me' defend myself,
but to be able to answer for me where they hear me causelessly
insulted by others, and therefore are willing to have such just
arguments put into their mouths as the cause will bear.
As for those who are prepossessed, and according to the
modern justice of parties are resolved to be so, let them go; I


## p. 4509 (#287) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4509
am not arguing with them, but against them; they act so contrary
to justice, to reason, to religion, so contrary to the rules of
Christians and of good manners, that they are not to be argued
with, but to be exposed or entirely neglected. I have a receipt
against all the uneasiness which it may be supposed to give me,
and that is, to contemn slander, and think it not worth the least
concern; neither should I think it worth while to give any
answer to it, if it were not on some other accounts, of which I
shall speak as I go on. If any young man ask me why I am in
such haste to publish this matter at this time, among many other
good reasons which I could give, these are some:
I. I think I have long enough been made Fabula Vulgi, and
borne the weight of general slander; and I should be wanting to
truth, to my family, and to myself, if I did not give a fair and
true state of my conduct, for impartial men to judge of when I
am no more in being to answer for myself.
2.
By the hints of mortality, and by the infirmities of a life
of sorrow and fatigue, I have reason to think I am not a great
way off from, if not very near to, the great ocean of eternity,
and the time may not be long ere I embark on the last voyage.
Wherefore I think I should even accounts with this world before
I go, that no actions [slanders] may lie against my heirs, execu-
tors, administrators, and assigns, to disturb them in the peaceable
possession of their father's [character] inheritance.
3. I fear-God grant I have not a second sight in it—that
this lucid interval of temper and moderation which shines,
though dimly too, upon us at this time, will be of but short
continuance; and that some men, who know not how to use the
advantage God has put into their hands with moderation, will
push, in spite of the best Prince in the world, at such extravagant
things, and act with such an intemperate forwardness, as will
revive the heats and animosities which wise and good men were
in hopes should be allayed by the happy accession of the King to
the throne.
It is and ever was my opinion, that moderation is the only
virtue by which the peace and tranquillity of this nation can be
preserved. Even the King himself - I believe his Majesty will
allow me that freedom-can only be happy in the enjoyment of
the crown by a moderative administration. If his Majesty should
be obliged, contrary to his known disposition, to join with intem-
perate councils, if it does not lessen his security I am persuaded


## p. 4510 (#288) ###########################################

4510
DANIEL DEFOE
it will lessen his satisfaction. It cannot be pleasant or agree-
able, and I think it cannot be safe, to any just prince to rule
over a divided people, split into incensed and exasperated parties.
Though a skillful mariner may have courage to master a tem-
pest, and goes fearless through a storm, yet he can never be
said to delight in the danger; a fresh fair gale and a quiet sea
is the pleasure of his voyage, and we have a saying worth
notice to them that are otherwise minded,--" Quit ama periculum,
periebat in illo. "
ENGAGING A MAID-SERVANT
From Everybody's Business is Nobody's Business>
B
ESIDES, the fear of spoiling their clothes makes them afraid of
household work, so that in a little time we shall have none
but chambermaids and nurserymaids; and of this let me
give you one instance. My family is composed of myself and
sister, a man and maid; and being without the last, a young
wench came to hire herself. The man was gone out, and my
sister above-stairs, so I opened the door myself, and this person
presented herself to my view, dressed completely, more like a
visitor than a servant-maid; she, not knowing me, asked for my
sister. "Pray, madam," said I, "be pleased to walk into the parlor;
she shall wait on you presently. " Accordingly I handed madam
in, who took it very cordially. After some apology I left her
alone for a minute or two, while I, stupid wretch! ran up to my
sister and told her there was a gentlewoman below come to visit
her. "Dear brother," said she, "don't leave her alone; go down and
entertain her while I dress myself. " Accordingly down I went,
and talked of indifferent affairs; meanwhile my sister dressed her-
self all over again, not being willing to be seen in an undress.
At last she came down dressed as clean as her visitor; but how
great was my surprise when I found my fine lady a common
servant-wench.
My sister, understanding what she was, began to inquire what
wages she expected. She modestly asked but eight pounds a
year. The next question was, "What work she could do to
deserve such wages? " to which she answered she could clean a
house, or dress a common family dinner. "But cannot you wash,”
replied my sister, "or get up linen? " She answered in the


## p. 4511 (#289) ###########################################

DANIEL DEFOE
4511
negative, and said she would undertake neither, nor would she
go into a family that did not put out their linen to wash and
hire a charwoman to scour. She desired to see the house, and
having carefully surveyed it, said the work was too hard for her,
nor could she undertake it.
This put my sister beyond all
patience, and me into the greatest admiration. "Young woman,”
she said, "you have made a mistake; I want a housemaid, and
you are a chambermaid. " "No, madam," replied she, "I am not
needlewoman enough for that. " "And yet you ask eight pounds a
year,” replied my sister. "Yes, madam," said she, "nor shall I
bate a farthing. " "Then get you gone for a lazy impudent bag-
gage," said I; "you want to be a boarder, not a servant; have
you a fortune or estate, that you dress at that rate? ” "No, sir,"
said she, "but I hope I may wear what I work for without
offense. " "What! you work? " interrupted my sister; "why, you
do not seem willing to undertake any work; you will not wash
nor scour; you cannot dress a dinner for company; you are no
needlewoman; and our little house of two rooms on a floor is too
much for you.
For God's sake, what can you do? " "Madam,"
replied she pertly, "I know my business, and do not fear service;
there are more places than parish churches: if you wash at
home, you should have a laundrymaid; if you give entertainments,
you must have a cookmaid; if you have any needlework, you
should have a chambermaid; and such a house as this is enough.
for a housemaid, in all conscience. "
I was so pleased at the wit, and astonished at the impudence
of the girl, so dismissed her with thanks for her instructions,
assuring her that when I kept four maids she should be house-
maid if she pleased.
THE DEVIL
From The True-Born Englishman'
WH
HEREVER God erects a house of prayer,
The Devil always builds a chapel there;
And 'twill be found upon examination,
The latter has the largest congregation.
For ever since he first debauched the mind,
He made a perfect conquest of mankind.
With uniformity of service, he
Reigns with general aristocracy.


## p. 4512 (#290) ###########################################

4512
DANIEL DEFOE
No non-conforming sects disturb his reign,
For of his yoke there's very few complain.
He knows the genius and the inclination,
And matches proper sins for every nation.
He needs no standing army government;
He always rules us by our own consent;
His laws are easy, and his gentle sway
Makes it exceeding pleasant to obey.
The list of his vicegerents and commanders
Outdoes your Cæsars or your Alexanders.
They never fail of his infernal aid,
And he's as certain ne'er to be betrayed.
Through all the world they spread his vast command,
And death's eternal empire is maintained.
They rule so politicly and so well,
As if they were Lords Justices of hell;
Duly divided to debauch mankind,
And plant infernal dictates in his mind.
THERE IS A GOD
From The Storm'
F
OR in the darkest of the black abode
There's not a devil but believes a God.
Old Lucifer has sometimes tried
To have himself deified;
But devils nor men the being of God denied,
Till men of late found out new ways to sin,
And turned the devil out to let the Atheist in.
But when the mighty element began,
And storms the weighty truth explain,
Almighty power upon the whirlwind rode,
And every blast proclaimed aloud
There is, there is, there is a God.


## p. 4513 (#291) ###########################################

4513
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
(1820-1887)
EN years after 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' there appeared in Am-
sterdam a book that caused as great a sensation among the
Dutch coffee-traders on the Amstel, as had Harriet Beecher
Stowe's wonderful story among the slaveholders at the South. This
book was 'Max Havelaar,' and its author, veiled under the sug-
gestive pen-name of "Multatuli" ("who have suffered much"), at once
became famous. It frankly admitted that it was a novel with a pur-
pose, and this purpose was to bring home to his countrymen the
untold sufferings and oppression to which the natives of the Dutch
East Indies were subjected, in order that the largest possible profit
might flow into the coffers of the people of Holland. Multatuli,
under the disguise of fiction, professed to give facts he had himself
collected on the spot.
Eduard Douwes Dekker, born in 1820 in Amsterdam, went as a
youth of seventeen to the Dutch colonies. There for nearly twenty
years he was in the employ of the government, obtaining at last the
post of Assistant Resident of Lebak, a province of Java. In this
responsible position he used his influence to stem the abuses and
extortions practiced by the native chiefs against the defenseless pop-
ulace. But his humanitarianism clashed with the interests of his
government, and sacrificing a brilliant career to a principle, he sent
in his resignation and returned to Holland in 1856 a poor man. He
began to put his experiences on paper, and in 1860 published the
book that made him famous. 'Max Havelaar' is a bitter arraign-
ment of the Dutch colonial system, and gives a more excruciating
picture of the slavery of the natives of fair ❝Insulind» than ever
existed in the South. For nearly three hundred years Dutch burghers
on the Scheldt, the Maas, and the Amstel, have waxed fat on the
labors of the Malays of the far East. In these islands of the East-
Indian Archipelago the relations between the Europeans and the
Dutch are peculiar, based on the policy of the government of getting
the largest possible revenues out of these fertile possessions. Prac-
tically the native is a Dutch subject, and the product of his labor
goes directly to Holland; nominally he is still ruled by his tribal
chief, to whom he is blindly and superstitiously devoted. Playing on
this feudal attachment, the Dutch, while theoretically pledging them-
selves to protect the defenseless populace against rapacity, have yet
VIII-283


## p. 4514 (#292) ###########################################

4514
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
so arranged the administration that the chiefs have unlimited oppor-
tunities of extortion. They are paid premiums on whatever their
provinces furnish for the foreign market, and as they have prac-
tically full control over the persons and property of their subjects,
they force these poor wretches to contribute whatever they may
demand in unpaid labor and provisions, besides the land taxes.
And there is yet another hardship. Rice is the staple product of
Java, but as that does not pay so well as coffee, sugar, indigo, or
spices, the Javanese is driven away from the rice fields he loves, and
famine is often the result.
"Famine? in Java, the rich and fertile, famine? Yes, reader, a few
years ago whole districts were depopulated by famine; mothers offered to sell
their children for food; mothers ate their own children. But then the mother
country interfered. In the halls of the Dutch Parliament complaints were
made, and the then reigning governor had to give orders that THE EXTENSION
OF THE SO-CALLED EUROPEAN MARKET SHOULD NO LONGER BE PUSHED TO THE
EXTREMITY OF FAMINE. »
The book is an eloquent plea for more humane treatment of these
wretches. In glowing colors Dekker paints the condition of Java,
its scenery, its inhabitants, the extortions of the native regents, and
the rapacity of the European traders. The truth of these accusa-
tions has never been disputed; indeed, it has been said that he kept
on this side of exaggeration. At the International Congress for the
Promotion of Social Science, at Amsterdam in 1863, he challenged his
critics to prove him false, but no one came forward. One high gov-
ernment official indeed said that he could refute 'Max Havelaar,' but
that it was not in his interest to do so.
Despite the sensation the book made, affairs in the East remained
pretty much the same as before. Dekker tried in vain to get some
influence in Holland, but he had killed himself politically by avow-
ing that 'Max Havelaar' was not written in the interests of either
party, but was the utterance of a champion of humanity. Thor-
oughly disappointed in his countrymen, he exiled himself and went
to live in Germany in 1866. But he did not therefore lay down a
pen that had become in his hands a powerful weapon. He published
a number of books on political, social, and philosophic subjects, in the
form of stories, dramas, aphorisms, or polemics. Noteworthy among
these are his fine parables, the novel 'La Sainte Vierge' (The Holy
Virgin); the drama in blank, 'Vorstenschool' (School for Princes), con-
taining many fine thoughts, and still one of the most popular plays
of the day; and the incomplete Geschiedem's van Wontertje Pieterse '
(Story of Wontertje Pieterse), published in 1888 by his widow, who
also brought out his letters, and in 1892 a complete edition of his
works.


## p. 4515 (#293) ###########################################

EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
4515
The writings of Dekker are marked by a fiery yet careful style,
Oriental richness of imagery, and originality and independence of
thought. He wrote as social reformer, and attacked with unrivaled
power of sarcasm all manner of cant, sham, and red-tape. His works
betray the disappointment of a defeated idealist. He was a man of
marked individuality, and strongly attracted or repelled people. For
the last few years of his life he ceased to write, and lived in retire-
ment in Nieder-Ingelheim on the Rhine, where he died February
19th, 1887.
MULTATULI'S LAST WORDS TO THE READER
YES,
I
VES, I, Multatuli, "who have suffered much,”—I take the pen.
I do not make any excuses for the form of my book,— that
form was thought proper to obtain my object.
will be read! Yes, I will be read. I will be read by statesmen
who are obliged to pay attention to the signs of the times; by
men of letters, who must also look into the book of which so
many bad things are said; by merchants, who have an interest
in the coffee auctions; by lady's-maids, who read me for a few
farthings; by governors-general in retirement; by ministers who
have something to do; by the lackeys of these Excellencies; by
mutes, who, more majorum, will say that I attack God Almighty,
when I attack only the god which they made according to their
own image; by the members of the representative chambers,
who must know what happens in the extensive possessions over
the sea which belong to Holland.
Ay, I shall be read!
When I obtain this I shall be content, for I did not intend to
write well.
. I wished to write so as to be heard; and as
one who cries "Stop thief! " does not care about the style of his
impromptu address to the public, I too am indifferent to criti-
cism of the manner in which I cried my «< Stop thief! »
"The book is a medley; there is no order, nothing but a
desire to make a sensation. The style is bad; the author is inex-
perienced; no talent, no method. "
Good! good!
all very well!
but the Javanese
are ill-treated. For the merit of my book is this: that refutation
of its main features is impossible. And the greater the disappro-
bation of my book the better I shall be pleased, for the chance
of being heard will be so much the greater; — and that is what
I desire.
-
•


## p. 4516 (#294) ###########################################

4516
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
But you whom I dare to interrupt in your business or in
your retirement,-ye ministers and governors-general,—do not
calculate too much upon the inexperience of my pen. I could
exercise it, and perhaps by dint of some exertion, attain to that
skill which would make the truth heard by the people. Then I
should ask of that people a place in the representative cham-
bers, were it only to protest against the certificates which are
given vice versa by Indian functionaries.
To protest against the endless expeditions sent, and heroic
deeds performed against poor miserable creatures, whose ill treat-
ment has driven them to revolt.
To protest against the cowardice of general orders, that brand
the honor of the nation by invoking public charity on behalf of
the victims of inveterate piracy.
It is true those rebels were reduced by starvation to skeletons,
while those pirates could defend themselves.
And if that place were refused me,
if I were still
disbelieved,
then I should translate my book into the
few languages that I know, and the many that I yet can learn,
to put that question to Europe which I have in vain put to
Holland.
•
·
And in every capital such a refrain as this would be heard:
"There is a band of robbers between Germany and the Scheldt! "
And if this were of no avail,
then I should translate
my book into Malay, Javanese, Soudanese, Alfoer, Boegi, and
Battah.
And I should sharpen Klewangs, the scimitars and the sabres,
by rousing with warlike songs the minds of those martyrs whom
I have promised to help-I, Multatuli, would do this!
Yes! delivery and help, lawfully if possible;— lawfully with
violence if need be.
And that would be very pernicious to the COFFEE AUCTIONS
OF THE DUTCH TRADING COMPANY!
For I am no fly-rescuing poet, no rapt dreamer like the
down-trodden Havelaar, who did his duty with the courage of a
lion and endured starvation with the patience of a marmot in
winter.
This book is an introduction.
I shall increase in strength and sharpness of weapons, accord-
ing as it may be necessary.
Heaven grant that it may not be necessary!
·


## p. 4517 (#295) ###########################################

EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
4517
No, it will not be necessary! For it is to thee I dedicate my
book: WILLIAM THE THIRD, King, Grand Duke, Prince,
more than Prince, Grand Duke, and King,
EMPEROR of
the magnificent empire of INSULIND, which winds about the equa-
tor like a garland of emeralds!
I ask THEE if it be thine IMPERIAL will that the Havelaars
should be bespattered with the mud of Slymerings and Dry-
stubbles; and that thy more than thirty millions of SUBJECTS far
away should be ill treated and should suffer extortion in THY
name!
From Max Havelaar. '
IDYLL OF SAÏDJAH AND ADINDA
From Max Havelaar>
SA
AÏDJAH'S father had a buffalo, with which he plowed his
field. When this buffalo was taken away from him by the
district chief at Parang-Koodjang he was very dejected, and
did not speak a word for many a day. For the time for plow-
ing was come, and he had to fear that if the rice field was not
worked in time, the opportunity to sow would be lost, and lastly,
that there would be no paddy to cut, none to keep in the store-
room of the house. He feared that his wife would have no rice,
nor Saïdjah himself, who was still a child, nor his little broth-
ers and sisters. And the district chief too would accuse him to
the Assistant Resident if he was behindhand in the payment of
his land taxes, for this is punished by the law. Saïdjah's father
then took a poniard which was an heirloom from his father.
The poniard was not very handsome, but there were silver bands
round the sheath, and at the end there was a silver plate. He
sold this poniard to a Chinaman who dwelt in the capital, and
came home with twenty-four guilders, for which money he
bought another buffalo.
Saïdjah, who was then about seven years old, soon made
friends with the new buffalo. It is not without meaning that I
say "made friends," for it is indeed touching to see how the
buffalo is attached to the little boy who watches over and feeds
him. The large strong animal bends its heavy head to the
right, to the left, or downward, just as the pressure of the child's
finger, which he knows and understands, directs.


## p. 4518 (#296) ###########################################

4518
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
Such a friendship little Saïdjah had soon been able to make
with the new-comer. The buffalo turned willingly on reaching
the end of the field, and did not lose an inch of ground when
plowing backwards the new furrow. Quite near were the rice
fields of the father of Adinda (the child that was to marry Saïd-
jah); and when the little brothers of Adinda came to the limit of
their fields just at the same time that the father of Saïdjah was
there with his plow, then the children called out merrily to
each other, and each praised the strength and the docility of his
buffalo. Saïdjah was nine and Adinda six, when this buffalo was
taken by the chief of the district of Parang-Koodjang. Saïdjah's
father, who was very poor, thereupon sold to a Chinaman two
silver curtain-hooks - heirlooms from the parents of his wife—
for eighteen guilders, and bought a new buffalo.
When this buffalo had also been taken away and slaughtered-
(I told you, reader, that my story is monotonous)
Saïdjah's father fled out of the country, for he was
much afraid of being punished for not paying his land taxes, and
he had not another heirloom to sell, that he might buy a new
buffalo. However, he went on for some years after the loss of
his last buffalo, by working with hired animals for plowing; but
that is a very ungrateful labor, and moreover sad for a person
who has had buffaloes of his own.
Saïdjah's mother died of grief; and then it was that his
father, in a moment of dejection, fled from Bantam in order to
endeavor to get labor in the Buitenzorg districts.
But he was punished with stripes because he had left Lebak
without a passport, and was brought back by the police to
Badoer. But he was not long in prison, for he died soon after-
wards. Saïdjah was already fifteen years of age when his father
set out for Buitenzorg; and he did not accompany him hither,
because he had other plans in view. He had been told that there
were at Batavia many gentlemen who drove in two-wheeled
carriages, and that it would be easy for him to get a post as
driver. He would gain much in that way if he behaved well,-
perhaps be able to save in three years enough money to buy
two buffaloes. This was a smiling prospect for him. He en-
tered Adinda's house, and communicated to her his plans.
«< Think of it! when I come back, we shall be old enough to
but if I find you
marry and shall possess two buffaloes:
married? "


## p. 4519 (#297) ###########################################

EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
4519
"Saïdjah, you know very well that I shall marry nobody but
you; my father promised me to your father. "
"And you yourself? "
"I shall marry you, you may be sure of that. "
"When I come back, I will call from afar off. "
"Who shall hear it, if we are stamping rice in the village ? »
"That is true,
oh yes, this is
better; wait for me under the oak wood, under the Retapan. "
"But Saïdjah, how can I know when I am to go to the
Retapan ? »
•
·
but Adinda -
---
•
moons.
"Count the moons; I shall stay away three times twelve
See, Adinda, at every new moon cut a notch in
your rice block. When you have cut three times twelve lines, I
will be under the Retapan the next day:
do you promise
to be there ? »
"Yes, Saïdjah, I will be there under the Retapan, near the
oak wood, when you come back. "
•
•
·
[Saidjah returns with money and trinkets at the appointed time, but does
not find Adinda under the Retapan. ]
But if she were ill or
dead?
Like a wounded stag Saïdjah flew along the path leading
from the Retapan to the village where Adinda lived. But
was it hurry, his eagerness, that prevented him from finding.
Adinda's house? He had already rushed to the end of the road,
through the village, and like one mad he returned and beat his
head because he must have passed her house without seeing it.
But again he was at the entrance to the village, and
O God, was it a dream?
Again he had not found the house of Adinda. Again he flew
back and suddenly stood still. . . . And the women of Badoer
came out of their houses, and saw with sorrow poor Saïdjah
standing there, for they knew him and understood that he was
looking for the house of Adinda, and they knew that there was
no house of Adinda in the village of Badoer.
For when the district chief of Parang-Koodjang had taken
away Adinda's father's buffaloes
(I told you, reader! that my narrative was monotonous. )
Adinda's mother died of grief, and her baby sister
died because she had no mother, and had no one to suckle her.


## p. 4520 (#298) ###########################################

4520
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
And Adinda's father, who feared to be punished for not paying
his land taxes
(I know, I know that my tale is monotonous. )
had fled out of the country; he had taken Adinda
and her brother with him. He had gone to Tjilang-Rahan, bor-
dering on the sea. There he had concealed himself in the woods
and waited for some others that had been robbed of their buffa-
loes by the district chief of Parang-Koodjang, and all of whom
feared punishment for not paying their land taxes. Then they
had at night taken possession of a fishing boat, and steered north-
ward to the Lampoons.
[Saïdjah, following their route] arrived in the Lampoons,
where the inhabitants were in insurrection against the Dutch
rule. He joined a troop of Badoer men, not so much to fight as
to seek Adinda; for he had a tender heart, and was more dis
posed to sorrow than to bitterness.
One day that the insurgents had been beaten, he wandered
through a village that had just been taken by the Dutch, and
was therefore in flames. Saïdjah knew that the troop that had
been destroyed there consisted for the most part of Badoer men.
He wandered like a ghost among the houses which were not
yet burned down, and found the corpse of Adinda's father with
a bayonet wound in the breast. Near him Saïdjah saw the three
murdered brothers of Adinda, still only children, and a little fur-
ther lay the corpse of Adinda, naked and horribly mutilated.
Then Saïdjah went to meet some soldiers who were driving,
at the point of the bayonet, the surviving insurgents into the fire
of the burning houses; he embraced the broad bayonets, pressed
forward with all his might, and still repulsed the soldiers with a
last exertion, until their weapons were buried to the sockets in
his breast.


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4521
THOMAS DEKKER
(1570 ? -1637? )
HOMAS DEKKER, the genial realist, the Dickens of Jacobean
London, has left in his works the impress of a most lovable
personality, but the facts with which to surround that per-
sonality are of the scantiest. He was born about 1570 in London; at
least in 1637 he speaks of himself as over threescore years of age.
This is the only clue we have to the date of his birth.
He came
probably of a tradesman's family, for he describes better than any of
his fellows in art the life of the lower middle class, and enters into
the thoughts and feelings of that class with a heartiness which is
possible only after long and familiar association. He was not a
university man, but absorbed his classical knowledge as Shakespeare
did, through association with the wits of his time.
He is first mentioned in Henslowe's diary in 1597, and after that
his name appears frequently. He was evidently a dramatic hack,
working for that manager, adapting and making over old plays and
writing new ones. He must have been popular too, for his name
appears oftener than that of any of his associates. Yet his industry
and popularity could not always keep him above water. Henslowe
was not a generous paymaster, and the unlucky dramatist knew the
inside of the debtor's prison cell; more than once the manager ad-
vanced sums to bail him out. Oldys says he was in prison from 1613
to 1616. After 1637 we find his name no more.
As a dramatist, Dekker was most active between the years 1598
and 1602. In one of those years alone he was engaged on twelve
plays. Many of these have been lost; of the few that remain, two
of the most characteristic belong to this period. The Shoemaker's
Holiday,' published in 1599, shows Dekker on his genial, realistic
side, with his sense of fun and his hearty sympathy with the life of
the people. It bubbles over with the delight in mere living, and is
full of kindly feeling toward all the world. It was sure to appeal to
its audience, especially to the pit, where the tradesmen and artisans
with their wives applauded, and noisiest of all, the 'prentices shouted
their satisfaction: here they saw themselves and their masters brought
on the stage, somewhat idealized, but still full of frolic and good-
nature. It is one of the brightest and pleasantest of Elizabethan
comedies. Close on its heels followed 'The Pleasant Comedy of Old
Fortunatus. ' Here Dekker the idealist, the poet of luxurious fancy


## p. 4522 (#300) ###########################################

4522
THOMAS DEKKER
and rich yet delicate imagination, is seen at his best. Fortunatus with
his wishing-hat and wonderful purse appealed to the romantic spirit
of the time, when men still sailed in search of the Hesperides, com-
pounded the elixir of youth, and sought for the philosopher's stone.
Dekker worked over an old play of the same name; the subject of
both was taken from the old German volksbuch Fortunatus' of 1519.
Among the collaborators of Dekker at this time was Ben Jonson.
Both these men were realists, but Jonson slashed into life with
bitter satire, whereas Dekker cloaked over its frailties with a tender
humor. Again, Jonson was a conscientious artist, aiming at per-
fection; Dekker, while capable of much higher poetry, was often
careless and slipshod. No wonder that the dictator scorned his some-
what irresponsible co-worker. The precise nature of their quarrel,
one of the most famous among authors, is not known; it culminated
in 1601, when Jonson produced 'The Poetaster,' a play in which
Dekker and Marston were mercilessly ridiculed. Dekker replied
shortly in 'Satiromastix, or the Untrussing of the Humorous Poet,' a
burlesque full of good-natured mockery of his antagonist.
Dekker wrote, in conjunction with Webster, (Westward Ho,'
Northward Ho,' and 'Sir Thomas Wyatt'; with Middleton, The
Roaring Girl'; with Massinger, The Virgin Martyr'; and with Ford,
'The Sun's Darling' and 'The Witch of Edmonton. ' Among the
products of Dekker's old age, 'Match Me in London' is ranked among
his half-dozen best plays, and The Wonder of a Kingdom' is fair
journeyman's work.
One of the most versatile of the later Elizabethans,- prolonging
their style and ideas into the new world of the Stuarts,- Dekker was
also prominent as pamphleteer. He first appeared as such in 1603,
with The Wonderfull Yeare 1603, wherein is showed the picture of
London lying sicke of the Plague,' a vivid description of the pest,
which undoubtedly served Defoe as model in his famous book on the
same subject. The best known of his many pamphlets, however, is
'The Gul's Horne Booke,' a graphic description of the ways and man-
ners of the gallants of the time. These various tracts are invaluable
for the light they throw on the social life of Jacobean London.
Lastly, Dekker as song-writer must not be forgotten. He had the
genuine lyric gift, and poured forth his bird-notes, sweet, fresh, and
spontaneous, full of the singer's joy in his song. He also wrote some
very beautiful prayers.
Varied and unequal as Dekker's work is, he is one of the hardest
among the Elizabethans to classify. He at times rises to the very
heights of poetic inspiration, soaring above most of his contempo-
raries, to drop all of a sudden down to a dead level of prose. But
he makes up for his shortcomings by his whole-hearted, manly view


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THOMAS DEKKER
4523
of life, his compassion for the weak, his sympathy with the lowly,
his determination to make the best of everything, and to show the
good hidden away under the evil.
"Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail,»-
these he knew from bitter experience, yet never allowed them to
overcloud his buoyant spirits, but made them serve his artistic pur-
poses. Joyousness is the prevailing note of his work, mingled with a
pathetic undertone of patience.