Introduction
By Cayla Eagon
Chaplain, visitor of Newgate prison, and writer of crime pamphlets, Henry Goodcole was a major contributor to representations of criminality in early seventeenth-century London. Notably, most of Goodcole’s work focuses on female criminals—so called adulteresses, poisoners, baby-killers, and witches are some of his primary subjects. Scholar Randall Martin highlights the social importance of Goodcole's pamphlets noting that, "their complex discussions of murder, petty treason, and infanticide opened new paths beyond the narrowly moralising, self-censored, or patently fictionalized approaches that characterised sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century crime news" (154). However, despite his sensational writing topics and the sociohistorical importance of his work, Goodcole has been largely neglected from critical attention with only one of his nine known pamphlets having been reproduced since the original publication. Goodcole’s representation of criminals in his final pamphlet, Nature’s Cruel Step-Dames (1637), suggests that, despite the work’s misogynistic title, there may be a more empathetic view of women at work in his writing that has kept it from gaining more attention over the years.
In exploring why Goodcole is not more frequently read, taught, or studied, it is necessary to consider the medium of his work. In an article on Goodcole's "murder pamphlets," literature scholar David Stymeist points out that, among academic interests, seventeenth-century pamphlets were largely dismissed as a "sub-literary genre" until the 1980s when new historicists began to take interest in the "marginal and silenced voices" represented in these documents (29). Indeed, works like Alexandra Halasz's The Marketplace of Print: Pamphlets and the Public Sphere in Early Modern England (1997) and Joad Raymond's Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern Britain (2003)—the latter of which references Goodcole's work—demonstrate an important growing interest in this particular historical aspect of print culture. In light of this trend, Stymeist argues that, “Goodcole’s series of popular murder pamphlets culled from his interviews of condemned prisoners at Newgate prison covertly contest judicial and religious interpretations of criminality in a public forum" and "uncover the social, political and economic factors that led individuals to commit criminal acts" (30). Thus, as Stymeist and other scholars make clear, Goodcole's pamphlets are important artifacts for better understanding representations of criminality, criminal motivation, female criminals, and the impact of print culture more generally—which, by paradox, may be precisely why they have not received more critical attention.
Nature’s Cruel Step-Dames is a particularly interesting pamphlet for multiple reasons. First, Martin argues that it is Goodcole's "most self-assured pamphlet in terms of its authorial voice and relatively artfully composed narrative" (175). Furthermore, he notes that the work "articulates a rudimentary vision of social justice which his preceding pamphlets had gradually built up" (175). In this way, Goodcole’s pamphlet becomes a political statement on crime and gender. The political aspects become clearer in the interesting conflict between how the work is marketed, via the title and cover page, and its actual content. For instance, the full title--Nature’s Cruel Step-Dames: or, Matchless Monsters of the Female Sex—suggests that the work will focus only on female criminals. Although these "step-dames" and "monsters of the female sex" are the primary focus of this work, it also presents the case of John Flood who raped his nine-year old daughter. By including this case, Goodcole suggests that women are not nature's only cruel monsters—as the title would have readers believe. On this point, Martin suggests that the publisher most likely named the document looking to sell a greater number of copies with a more sensational (and misogynistic) title (177).
Furthermore, Goodcole's account of Elizabeth Barnes, who slits her daughter's throat, portrays her act as an unfortunate result of poor circumstances resulting from a lack of responsibility on the parts of Barnes's lover and her community. In providing this background information, Goodcole allows readers a chance to sympathize with Barnes and suggests that it is perhaps social circumstance which has made her cruel rather than nature.
As Goodcole's final pamphlet demonstrates a complicated social view of criminal women, it is a document that may greatly contribute to scholarship on representations of women in the seventeenth century and beyond. Furthermore, this work may be useful to many students and scholars including those in feminist, historical, literary, or bibliography studies. In making this particular work more accessible to a wider audience, this reproduction may increase interest in Henry Goodcole and his work thereby creating an even greater demand for the reproduction of his works as imperative cultural artifacts that expand our knowledge of seventeenth-century English society and the lasting implications of its literary representations of women and crime.
In exploring why Goodcole is not more frequently read, taught, or studied, it is necessary to consider the medium of his work. In an article on Goodcole's "murder pamphlets," literature scholar David Stymeist points out that, among academic interests, seventeenth-century pamphlets were largely dismissed as a "sub-literary genre" until the 1980s when new historicists began to take interest in the "marginal and silenced voices" represented in these documents (29). Indeed, works like Alexandra Halasz's The Marketplace of Print: Pamphlets and the Public Sphere in Early Modern England (1997) and Joad Raymond's Pamphlets and Pamphleteering in Early Modern Britain (2003)—the latter of which references Goodcole's work—demonstrate an important growing interest in this particular historical aspect of print culture. In light of this trend, Stymeist argues that, “Goodcole’s series of popular murder pamphlets culled from his interviews of condemned prisoners at Newgate prison covertly contest judicial and religious interpretations of criminality in a public forum" and "uncover the social, political and economic factors that led individuals to commit criminal acts" (30). Thus, as Stymeist and other scholars make clear, Goodcole's pamphlets are important artifacts for better understanding representations of criminality, criminal motivation, female criminals, and the impact of print culture more generally—which, by paradox, may be precisely why they have not received more critical attention.
Nature’s Cruel Step-Dames is a particularly interesting pamphlet for multiple reasons. First, Martin argues that it is Goodcole's "most self-assured pamphlet in terms of its authorial voice and relatively artfully composed narrative" (175). Furthermore, he notes that the work "articulates a rudimentary vision of social justice which his preceding pamphlets had gradually built up" (175). In this way, Goodcole’s pamphlet becomes a political statement on crime and gender. The political aspects become clearer in the interesting conflict between how the work is marketed, via the title and cover page, and its actual content. For instance, the full title--Nature’s Cruel Step-Dames: or, Matchless Monsters of the Female Sex—suggests that the work will focus only on female criminals. Although these "step-dames" and "monsters of the female sex" are the primary focus of this work, it also presents the case of John Flood who raped his nine-year old daughter. By including this case, Goodcole suggests that women are not nature's only cruel monsters—as the title would have readers believe. On this point, Martin suggests that the publisher most likely named the document looking to sell a greater number of copies with a more sensational (and misogynistic) title (177).
Furthermore, Goodcole's account of Elizabeth Barnes, who slits her daughter's throat, portrays her act as an unfortunate result of poor circumstances resulting from a lack of responsibility on the parts of Barnes's lover and her community. In providing this background information, Goodcole allows readers a chance to sympathize with Barnes and suggests that it is perhaps social circumstance which has made her cruel rather than nature.
As Goodcole's final pamphlet demonstrates a complicated social view of criminal women, it is a document that may greatly contribute to scholarship on representations of women in the seventeenth century and beyond. Furthermore, this work may be useful to many students and scholars including those in feminist, historical, literary, or bibliography studies. In making this particular work more accessible to a wider audience, this reproduction may increase interest in Henry Goodcole and his work thereby creating an even greater demand for the reproduction of his works as imperative cultural artifacts that expand our knowledge of seventeenth-century English society and the lasting implications of its literary representations of women and crime.