Daniel Defoe - The History and Remarkable Life of the Truly Honourable Colonel Jacque, Commonly called Colonel Jack

"Well, Colonel Jacque," says he, "you give long credit; what's the reason you han't fetched your money all this while, nor the interest? Why, you will grow so rich in time by the interest of your money, you won't know what to do with it."

To that I said nothing, but bowed and scraped a great many times. "Well, come, Colonel Jacque," said he, "come in and I will give you your money, and the interest of it too."

I cringed and bowed, and told him I did not come to him for my money; for I had had a good place or two, and I did not want my money.

"Well, Colonel Jacque," said he, "and who do you live with?"

"Sir Jonathan Loxham," said I, "sir, in Somersetshire, and please your worship." This was a name I had heard of, but knew nothing of any such gentleman, or of the country.

"Well," says he, "but won't you have your money, Jacque?"

"No, sir," said I, "if your worship would please, for I have had a good place."

"If I would please to do what, prithee? Your money is ready, I tell thee."

"No, sir," said I; "but I have had a good place."

"Well, and what dost thou mean, Jacque? I do not understand thee."

"Why, and please your worship, my old master, Sir Jonathan's father, left me £30 when he died, and a suit of mourning, and-"

"And what, prithee, Jacque? What, hast thou brought me more money?" For then he began to understand what I meant.

"Yes, sir," said I; "and your worship would be so good to take it, and put it all together. I have saved some, too, out of my wages."

"I told you, Jacque," says he, "you would be rich. And how much hast thou saved? Come, let me see it."

To shorten the story, I pulled it out, and he was content to take it, giving me his note, with interest, for the whole sum, which amounted to £94; that is to say,

£25 The first money. 9 For six years' interest. 60 Now paid him. _ £94

I came away exceeding joyful, made him abundance of bows and scrapes, and went immediately to shift my clothes again, with a resolution to run away from London and see it no more for a great while. But I was surprised the very next morning, when, going cross Rosemary Lane, by the end of the place which is called Rag Fair, I heard one call "Jacque." He had said something before, which I did not hear, but upon hearing the name Jacque I looked about me, immediately saw three men, and after them a constable coming towards me with great fury. I was in a great surprise, and started to run, but one of them clapped in upon me, and got hold of me, and in a moment the rest surrounded me, and I was taken. I asked them what they wanted, and what I had done. They told me it was no place to talk of that there, but showed me their warrant, and bade me read it, and I should know the rest when I came before the justice; so they hurried me away.

I took the warrant, but, to my great affliction, I could know nothing by that, for I could not read; so I desired them to read it, and they read it, that they were to apprehend a known thief, that went by the name of one of the three Jacques of Rag Fair; for that he was charged upon oath with having been a party in a notorious robbery, burglary, and murder, committed so and so, in such a place, and on such a day.

It was to no purpose for me to deny it, or to say I knew nothing of it; that was none of their business, they said; that must be disputed, they told me, before the justice, where I would find that it was sworn positively against me, and then, perhaps, I might be better satisfied.

I had no remedy but patience; and as my heart was full of terror and guilt, so I was ready to die with the weight of it as they carried me along. For as I very well knew that I was guilty of the first day's work, though I was not of the last, so I did not doubt but I should be sent to Newgate, and then I took it for granted I must be hanged; for to go to Newgate and to be hanged were to me as things which necessarily followed one another.

But I had a sharp conflict to go through before it came to that part; and that was before the justice; where, when I was come, and the constable brought me in, the justice asked me my name. "But hold," says he, "young man; before I ask you your name, let me do you justice. You are not bound to answer till your accusers come;" so, turning to the constable, he asked for his warrant.

"Well," says the justice, "you have brought this young man here by virtue of this warrant. Is this young man the person for whom this warrant is granted?"

Con . I believe so, and please your worship.

Just . Believe so! Why, are you not sure of it?

Con . An't please your worship, the people said so where I took him.

Just . It is a very particular kind of warrant; it is to apprehend a young man who goes by the name of Jacque, but no surname, only that it is said he is called Captain Jacque, or some other such name. Now, young man, pray is your name Captain Jacque? or are you usually called so?

I presently found that the men that took me knew nothing of me, and the constable had taken me up by hearsay; so I took heart, and told the justice that I thought, with submission, that it was not the present question what my name was, but what these men, or any one else, had to lay to my charge; whether I was the person who the warrant empowered them to apprehend or no.

He smiled. "'Tis very true, young man," says he, "it is very true; and, on my word, if they have taken you up, and do not know you, and there is nobody to charge you, they will be mistaken to their own damage."

Then I told his worship I hoped I should not be obliged to tell my name till my accuser was brought to charge me, and then I should not conceal my name.

"It is but reason," said his good worship. "Mr. Constable," turning to the officers, "are you sure this is the person that is intended in your warrant? If you are not, you must fetch the person that accuses him, and on whose oath the warrant was granted." They used many words to insinuate that I was the person, and that I knew it well enough, and that I should be obliged to tell my name.

I insisted on the unreasonableness of it, and that I should not be obliged to accuse myself: and the justice told them in so many words that he could not force me to it, that I might do it if I would, indeed; "but you see," says the justice, "he understood too well to be imposed upon in that case." So that, in short, after an hour's debating before his worship, in which time I pleaded against four of them, the justice told them they must produce the accuser, or he must discharge me.

I was greatly encouraged at this, and argued with the more vigour for myself. At length the accuser was brought, fettered as he was, from the gaol, and glad I was when I saw him, and found that I knew him not; that is to say, that it was not one of the two rogues that I went out with that night that we robbed the poor old woman.

When the prisoner was brought into the room he was set right against me.

"Do you know this young man?" says the justice.

"No, sir," says the prisoner; "I never saw him in my life."

"Hum!" says the justice; "did not you charge one that goes by the name of Jacque, or Captain Jacque, as concerned in the robbery and murder which you are in custody for?"

Pris . Yes, an't please your worship.

Just . And is this the man, or is he not?

Pris . This is not the man, sir; I never saw this man before.

"Very good, Mr. Constable," says the justice, "what must we do now?"

"I am surprised," says the constable. "I was at such a house" (naming the house), "and this young man went by. The people cried out, 'There's Jacque; that's your man;' and these people ran after him, and apprehended him."

"Well," says the justice, "and have these people anything to say to him? Can they prove that he is the person?"