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Title: The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 1/2 - being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious - characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain - from the earliest period to 1841.
Author: Pelham, Camden
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 1/2 - being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious - characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain - from the earliest period to 1841." ***
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THE
CHRONICLES OF CRIME.
[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE.
_The Man with the Carpet Bag._
"In an instant the smile of the hostess turned to a frown, and, without
further explanation, she exclaimed, looking over the bar at the same
time at my unfortunate carpet-bag, 'No, sir; we have no room; it won't
do here'."]
CHRONICLES OF CRIME
_Edited by Camden Pelham_
OF THE INNER TEMPLE BARRISTER-AT LAW
with
ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS
BY PHIZ
[Illustration: _Escape of the Mayor of Bristol._
"His worship, seeing me, said, 'For God's sake, young man, assist me
up.' I stooped down & helped his worship up, the female servants
assisting him behind."]
THE
CHRONICLES OF CRIME;
The New Newgate Calendar.
BEING
A SERIES OF MEMOIRS AND ANECDOTES
OF
NOTORIOUS CHARACTERS
WHO HAVE OUTRAGED THE LAWS OF GREAT BRITAIN FROM THE EARLIEST
PERIOD TO 1841.
COMPRISING
COINERS.
EXTORTIONERS.
FORGERS.
FRAUDULENT BANKRUPTS.
FOOTPADS.
HIGHWAYMEN.
HOUSEBREAKERS.
INCENDIARIES.
IMPOSTORS.
MURDERERS.
MUTINEERS.
MONEY-DROPPERS.
PIRATES.
PICKPOCKETS.
RIOTERS.
SHARPERS.
TRAITORS.
&c., &c.
INCLUDING
A NUMBER OF CURIOUS CASES NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
EMBELLISHED WITH FIFTY-TWO ENGRAVINGS,
FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY "PHIZ."
BY CAMDEN PELHAM, ESQ.,
OF THE INNER TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
T. MILES & CO., 95, UPPER STREET.
1887.
PREFACE
Few words are necessary to introduce to our readers a work, the
character and the object of which are so legibly written upon its
title-page. "Chronicles of Crime" must comprise details, not only
interesting to every person concerned for the welfare of society, but
useful to the world in pointing out the consequences of guilt to be
equally dreadful and inevitable. It is to be regretted that in most of
the works of the present day, little attention is paid to the ultimate
moral or beneficial effects to be produced by them upon the public mind;
and that while every effort is made to afford amusement, no care is
taken to produce those general impressions, so necessary to the
maintenance of virtue and good order. The advantages of precept are
everywhere admitted and extolled; but still more effectual are the
lessons which are taught through the influence of example, whose results
are but too frequently fatal. The representation of guilt with its
painful and degrading consequences, has been universally considered to
be the best means of warning youth against the danger of
temptation;--the benefits to be expected from example are too plainly
exhibited by the infliction of punishment to need repetition; and the
more generally the effects of crime are shown, and the more the horrors
which precede detection and the deplorable fate of the guilty are made
known, the greater is the probability that the atrocity of vice may be
abated and the security of the public promoted.
Having said thus much in recommendation of the object of this work, a
few words as to its precise character may be added. Amusement and
instruction are alike the results which are hoped to be secured. It is
admitted by men, whose desire it is to make themselves acquainted with
human nature, that jails and other places of confinement afford them a
wide field for contemplation. The study of life, in all its varieties,
is one no less interesting than useful. The ingenuity of thieves,
depicted in their crimes, is a theme upon which all have opportunities
to remark, in their passage through a life of communication with the
world; and no less worthy of observation are the offences of men, whose
outrages or cruelties have rendered them amenable to the laws, framed
for the protection of society. All afford matter of contemplation to the
mind, most likely to be attended with useful results. It may be observed
that to persons of vicious inclination, effects the opposite to those
which are suggested may be produced; but an answer as conclusive as it
is just may be given to any such remark. The consequences of crime are
as clearly exhibited as its motives and its supposed advantages, and few
are hardy enough to declare or to exhibit a carelessness for punishment,
or a contempt for the bitter fruits of their misdeeds. Presenting an
example, therefore, of peculiar usefulness, it is trusted that the work
will be found no less interesting than instructive. Combining these two
most important qualities to secure its success, it is hoped that the
patronage afforded it will be at least commensurate with the pains which
have been bestowed upon its production.
It will be observed that in the preparation of these pages much care has
been taken to preserve those features only which are likely to be
acceptable to society. The most scrupulous attention has been paid to
the rejection of such instances of guilt, the circumstances of which
might be deemed unfit for general perusal. In a compass so circumscribed
as that to which the work is confined, it would be impossible to give
the history of every criminal who has undergone punishment for his
offences, during the period to which our Chronicles extend: neither is
that the object of the work. It is intended to embrace within its limits
all those cases which from their details present outlines of attraction.
The earlier pages are derived from sources of information peculiarly
within the reach of the Editor, while those of a later period are
compiled from known authorities as accurate as they are complete.
The comparison of the offences, and of the punishments of the last
century, with those of more recent date, will exhibit a marked
distinction between the two periods, both as to the atrocity of the one,
and the severity of the other. Those dreadful and frequent crimes, which
would disgrace the more savage tribes, and which characterised the lives
of the early objects of our criminal proceedings, are now no longer
heard of; and those characters of blood, in which the pages of our
Statute-book were formerly written, have been wiped away by improved
civilisation and the milder feelings of the people. It is but just to
say that the provisions of a wise Parliament have not been unattended
with proper results. Humanity has been permitted to temper the stern
demands of justice; and however atrocious, it must be admitted, some of
the crimes may be which have been recently perpetrated, and however
numerous the offenders-it cannot be denied that the general aspect of
the state of crime in this country is now infinitely less alarming than
formerly.
The necessity for punishment as the consequence of crime, can neither be
doubted nor denied. Without it the bonds of society must be
broken--government in no form could be upheld. If, then, example be the
object of punishment, and peace and good order, nay, the binding
together of the community, be its effects, how useful must be a work,
whose intention is to hold out that example which must be presumed to be
the foundation of a well-ordered society.
The cases will be found to be arranged chronologically, which, it is
presumed, will afford the most satisfactory and the most easy mode of
reference. This advantage is, however, increased by the addition of
copious indices.
LONDON, JULY 1, 1840.
CONTENTS.
NOTE.--_The offence mentioned opposite to each name is that alleged
against the person charged._
PAGE
ADAMS, Agnes. Forgery 505
ALDEN, Martha. Murder 445
ALLEN, George. Murder 444
ALLEN, William. Returned Transport 330
ARMITAGE, Richard. Forgery 506
ASLETT, Robert. Embezzlement 410
ATKINS, James, _alias_ Hill, _alias_ Jack
the Painter. Arson 269
ATTAWAY, James. Burglary 226
ARAM, Eugene. Murder 168
AVERSHAW, Lewis Jeremiah. Murder 347
BAILEY, Richard. Burglary 226
BALFOUR, Alexander. Murder 3
BALMERINO, Lord. Treason 107
BALTIMORE, Lord. Rape 213
BARRINGTON, George, _alias_ Waldron.
Pickpocket 363
BATEMAN, Mary. Murder 458
BELLINGHAM, John. Murder 527
BENSON, Mary, _alias_ Phipoe. Murder 358
BIRMINGHAM RIOTS (1780) 326
BLACKBURN, Joseph. Forgery 575
BLAKE, Joseph, _alias_ Blueskin. Burglary 35
BLANDY, Mary. Parricide 148
BODKIN, John, and Dominick. Murder 105
BOLLAND, James. Forgery 229
BOUNTY, Mutiny of 328
BOURNE, John. Conspiracy 332
BRADFORD, Jonathan. Murder 107
BRIANT, Mary. Returned Transport 330
BRISTOL, Countess of, _alias_ Duchess of
Kingston. Bigamy 250
BROADRIC, Ann. Murder 343
BROWN, Nicol. Murder 157
BROWN, Joseph. Murder 456
BROWNRIGG, Elizabeth. Murder 204
BURT, Samuel. Forgery 316
BURGH, Rev. Richard. Conspiracy 332
BUTCHER, John. Returned Transport 330
BUTTERWORTH, William. Murder 342
BUXTON, James. Murder 202
CADDELL, George. Murder 7
CAMERON, Dr. Archibald. Treason 154
CAMPBELL, Alexander. Murder 452
CAMPBELL, Mungo. Murder 227
CARR, John. Forgery 124
CARROLL, Barney. Cutting and Maiming 197
CARSON, Thomas. Murder 590
CAULFIELD, Frederick. Murder 141
CHANDLER, William. Perjury 145
CHARTERIS, Col. Francis. Rape 76
CLAYTON, John. Burglary 522
COBBY, John. Murder 127
COLLEY, Thomas. Murder 138
COOK, Thomas. Murder 8
COOKE, Arundel. Cutting and Maiming 31
COOPER, James. Murder 454
COUCHMAN, Samuel. Mutiny 131
COYLE, Richard. Piracy 84
COX, Jane. Murder 507
CUMMINGS, John. Conspiracy 332
CROSSWELL, John. Conspiracy 49
DAGOE, Hannah. Robbery 197
DAVIS, James. Conspiracy 332
DAWSON, Daniel. Poisoning Race-horses 524
DAWSON, James. Treason 122
DE BUTTE, Louis, _alias_ Mercier. Murder 272
DE LA MOTTE, Francis Henry. Treason 301
DERWENTWATER, Earl Of. Treason 19
DESPARD, Col. Edward Marcus. Treason 389
DIGNUM, David Brown. Fraud 268
DIVER, Jenny, _alias_ Mary Young.
Pickpocket 96
DIXON, Margaret. Murder 71
DODD, Dr. William. Forgery 274
DONALLY, James. Robbery 292
DOWNIE, David. Treason 335
DRAMATTI, John Peter. Murder 9
DREW, Charles. Parricide 102
DUNCAN, William. Murder 436
DURNFORD, Abraham. Robbery 292
ELBY, William. Murder 10
EMMET, Robert. Treason 382
FARMERY, William. Murder 236
FARRELL, James, _alias_ Buck. Murder 202
FAVEY, James, _alias_ O'Coigley. Treason 360
FENNING, Elizabeth. Murder 569
FERGUSON, Richard, _alias_ Galloping
Dick. Robbery 371
FERRERS., Earl. Murder 181
FLEET MARRIAGES 159
FOSTER, George. Murder 380
FRANCIS, John. Treason 389
FRYER, James. Burglary 288
GADESBY, William. Robbery 325
GALLOPING DICK, _alias_ Richard Ferguson.
Robbery 371
GARDELLE, Theodore. Murder 188
GENTLEMAN HARRY, _alias_ Henry Sterne.
Robbery 315
GIDLEY, George. Murder 199
GOODERE, Capt. Samuel. Murder 103
GORDON, Thomas. Murder 318
GOW, John. Piracy 72
GRANT, Jeremiah. Burglary 588
GREGG, William. Treason 12
GRIERSON, Rev. Jno., unlawful performance
of the Marriage Ceremony 159
GRIFFENBURG, Elizabeth. Accessory to
a Rape 213
GRIFFITHS, William. Robbery 234
GUEST, William. Diminishing the Coin
of the Realm 203
HACKMAN, the Rev. James. Murder 289
HADFIELD, James. Treason 370
HATFIELD, John. Forgery 394
HAGGERTY, Owen. Murder 437
HAMILTON, Col. John. Manslaughter 16
HAMMOND, John. Murder 127
HARDWICK, James. Conspiracy 349
HARRIS, Samuel. Murder 311
HARVEY, Anne. Accessory To a Rape 213
HAWDEN, John. Conspiracy 349
HAWES, Nathaniel. Robbery 28
HAYDEN, James. Conspiracy 349
HAYES, Catherine. Murder 65
HAYWOOD, Richard. Robbery 417
HEALD, Joseph. Murder 378
HEBBERFIELD, William. Forgery 521
HENDERSON, Matthew. Murder 116
HENLEY, John. Conspiracy 349
HILL, James, _alias_ Jack the Painter 269
HODGES, Joseph. Cross-dropping 351
HOLLOWAY, John. Murder 437
HOLMES, John. Body-stealing 273
HORNE, William Andrew. Murder 179
HORNER, Thomas. Burglary 288
HOUSDEN, Jane. Murder 18
HUNTER, the Rev. Thomas. Murder 1
HUTCHINSON, Amy. Murder 133
JACKSON, the Rev. Mr. Treason 346
JACK THE PAINTER, _alias_ Hill. Arson 269
JACOBS, Simon. Conspiracy 349
JEFFRIES, Elizabeth. Murder 152
JENKINS, William. Burglary 522
JENNISON, Francis. Murder 342
JOBBINS, William. Arson 324
JOHNSON, William. Murder 18
JONES, Laurence. Robbery 333
KEARINGE, Matthew. Arson & Murder 453
KEELE, Richard. Murder 18
KENDALL, Richard. Robbery 552
KENMURE, Lord. Treason 19
KIDD, Capt. John. Piracy 4
KILMARNOCK, Earl Of. Treason 107
KING, William. Cutting and Maiming 197
KINGSTON, Duchess of, _alias_ Countess of
Bristol. Bigamy. 250
KNIGHT, Thomas. Mutiny 131
LANCEY, Capt. John. Arson 156
LAYER, Christopher. Treason 32
LAZARUS, Jacob. Murder 227
LE MAITRE, Peter. Stealing 267
LEONARD, John. Rape 235
LILLY, Nathaniel. Returned Transport 330
LISLE, _alias_ Major J. G. Semple. Swindling 564
LONDON, Riots of 295
LOVAT, Lord. Treason 118
LOWE, Edward. Arson 324
LOWTHER, William. Murder 18
LUDDITES, The 549
MAGNIS, Harriet. Child-stealing 510
MAHONY, Matthew. Murder 103
MALCOLM, Sarah. Murder 79
MALE, Samuel. Robbery 236
MARRS, Murder of the 513
MARTIN, James. Returned Transport 330
MASSEY, Capt. John. Piracy 30
MATHISON, James. Forgery 295
MAYNE, Robert. Mutiny 196
M'CAN, Townley. Conspiracy 332
M'CANELLY, John. Burglary 151
MERRITT, Amos. Burglary 237
MERCIER, Francis, _alias_ De Butte.
Murder 272
METYARD, Sarah, and Sarah Morgan.
Murder 210
MILLS, John. Murder 132
MILLS, Richard. Murder 127
M'ILVENA, Michael. Unlawfully performing
the Marriage Ceremony 560
MITCHELL, Samuel Wild. Murder 415
MITCHELL, James. Murder 562
M'KINLIE, Peter. Murder 199
M'NAUGHTON, John. Murder 191
MORGAN, Edward. Murder and Arson 158
MORGAN, John. Mutiny 131
MORGAN, Luke. Burglary 151
MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY 328
MUTINY AT THE NORE 353
NEWTON, William. Robbery 300
NICHOLSON, Philip. Murder 555
NORE, Mutiny at 353
NORTH, John. Murder 311
O'COIGLEY, James, _alias_ Favey. Treason 360
PAGE, William. Robbery 165
PALEOTTI, Marquis de. Murder 25
PALMER, John. Burglary 448
PARKER, Richard. Mutiny 353
PARSONS, William. Returned Transport 142
PATCH, Richard. Murder 430
PERFECT, Henry. Fraud 419
PERREAU, Robert and Daniel. Forgery 244
PHILLIPS, Thomas. Robbery 27
PHILLIPS, Morgan. Murder and Arson 294
PHILLIPS, John. Conspiracy 349
PHIPOE, Maria Theresa, _alias_ Mary
Benson. Murder 358
PHIPPS, Thomas, Sen. and Jun. Forgery 319
PICTON, Thomas. Unlawfully Applying
The Torture 423
PORTEOUS, Captain John. Murder 81
PORTER, Solomon. Murder 227
PRICE, John. Murder 26
PRICE, George. Murder 87
PRICE, Charles. Forgery 312
PROBIN, Richard. Cross-dropping 351
QUINTIN, ST., Richard. Murder 199
RANN, John, _alias_ Sixteen-stringed
Jack. Robbery 242
RATCLIFFE, Charles. Treason 118
RICHARDSON, John. Piracy 84
RIOTS, BIRMINGHAM (1780) 326
RIOTS OF LONDON 295
ROACH, Philip. Piracy 34
ROSS, Norman. Murder 136
ROWAN, Archibald Hamilton. Sedition 340
RUDD, Margaret Caroline. Forgery 249
RYAN, John. Arson and Murder 453
RYLAND, William Wynne. Forgery 308
SAWYER, William. Murder 566
SCOLDWELL, Charles. Stealing 350
SEMPLE, Major J. G. Swindling 564
SHEEBY, Father. Murder 202
SHEPPARD, James. Treason 24
SHEPPARD, John. Burglary 38
SIMMONS, Thomas. Murder 450
SIXTEEN-STRINGED JACK. Robbery 242
SLIGO, the Marquis of. Enticing Seamen
from H.M. Navy 526
SMITH, John. Robbery 11
SMITH, John. Mutiny 196
SMITH, Robert. Robbery 379
SMITH, Francis. Murder 399
SOLOMONS, John. Conspiracy 349
SPENCER, Barbara. Coining 27
SPIGGOT, William. Robbery ib.
STERNE, HENRY, _alias_ Gentleman
Harry. Robbery 315
SWAN, John. Murder 152
TAPNER, Benjamin. Murder 127
TERRY, John. Murder 378
THOMAS, Charles. Forgery 506
THORNHILL, Richard. Manslaughter 15
TILLEY, William. Conspiracy 349
TOWNLEY, Francis. Treason 122
TRUSTY, Christopher. Returned Transport 310
TURPIN, Richard. Robbery 89
TYRIE, David. Treason 307
UNDERWOOD, Thomas. Robbery 325
VAUX, James Hardy. Privately Stealing 481
WALDRON, George, _alias_ Barrington.
Pickpocket 363
WALL, Joseph. Murder 374
WALSH, Benjamin. Felony 511
WATT, Robert. Treason 335
WEIL, Levi and Asher. Murder 227
WHITE, Huffey. Robbery 552
WHITE, Charles. Murder 103
WHITING, Michael. Murder 509
WHITMORE, John, _alias_ Old Dash.
Rape 504
WILD, Jonathan. Receiving Stolen
Goods 51
WILKINSON, the Rev. Mr. Unlawfully
performing the Marriage Ceremony 208
WILKES, John. Sedition 220
WILLIAMSON, John. Murder 208
WILLIAMSONS, Murder of the 513
WILLIAMS, Peter. Body-stealing 273
WILLIAMS, Renwick. Cutting and
Maiming 320
WINTON, Earl of. Treason 19
WOODBURNE, John. Cutting and
Maiming 31
WOOD, Joseph. Robbery 325
WOOD, John. Treason 389
YORK, William. Murder 127
YOUNG, Mary, _alias_ Jenny Diver.
Pickpocket 96
ZEKERMAN, Andrew. Murder 199
THE CHRONICLES OF CRIME,
OR,
THE NEW NEWGATE CALENDAR.
THE REV. THOMAS HUNTER.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS PUPILS.
The case of this criminal, who was executed in the year 1700, for the
barbarous murder of his two pupils, the children of a gentleman named
Gordon, an eminent merchant, and a baillie, or alderman of the City of
Edinburgh, is the first on our record; and, certainly, for its atrocity,
deserves to be placed at the head of the list of offences which follows
its melancholy recital. From the title of the offender, it will be seen
that he was a preacher of the word of God; and that a person in his
situation in life should suffer so ignominious an end for such a crime,
is indeed extraordinary; but how much more horrible is the fact which is
related to us, that on the scaffold, when all hope of life and of
repentance was past, he expressed his disbelief in that God whom it was
his profession to uphold, and whose omnipotence it had been his duty to
teach!
The malefactor, it would appear, was born of most respectable parents,
his father being a rich farmer in the county of Fife, and at an early
age he was sent to the University of St. Andrew's for his education. His
success in the pursuit of classical knowledge soon enabled him to take
the degree of Master of Arts, and his subsequent study of divinity was
attended with as favourable results. Upon his quitting college, in
accordance with the practice of the time he entered the service of Mr.
Gordon in the capacity of chaplain, in which situation it became his
duty to instruct the sons of his employer, children respectively of the
ages of eight and ten years. The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs.
Gordon, the two boys, their sister (a girl younger than themselves), Mr.
Hunter, a young woman who attended upon Mrs. Gordon, and the usual
menial servants. The attention of Hunter was attracted by the comeliness
of the lady's-maid, and a connexion of a criminal nature was soon
commenced between them. The accidental discovery of this intrigue by the
three children, was the ultimate cause of the deliberate murder of two
of them by their tutor.
The young woman and Hunter had retired to the apartment of the latter,
but, having omitted to fasten the door, the children entered and saw
enough to excite surprise in their young minds. In their conversation
subsequently at meal-time, they said so much as convinced their parents
of what had taken place, and the servant-girl was instantly dismissed;
while the chaplain, who had always been considered to be a person of
mild and amiable disposition and of great genius, was permitted to
remain, upon his making such amends to the family as were in his power,
by apologising for his indiscretion. From this moment, however, an
inveterate hatred for the children arose in his breast, and he
determined to satisfy his revenge upon them by murdering them all.
Chance for some time marred his plans, but he was at length enabled to
put them into execution as regarded the two boys. It appears that he was
in the habit of taking them to walk in the fields before dinner, and the
girl on such occasions usually accompanied them, but at the time at
which the murder of her brothers was perpetrated she was prevented from
going with them. They were at the country-seat of Mr. Gordon, situated
at a short distance only from Edinburgh, and an invitation having been
received for the whole family to dine in that city, Mrs. Gordon desired
that all the children might accompany her and her husband. The latter,
however, opposed the execution of this plan, and the little girl only
was permitted to go with her parents. The intention of the murderer to
destroy all the children was by this means frustrated; but he still
persevered in his bloody purpose with regard to the sons of his
benefactor, whom he determined to murder while they were yet in his
power. Proceeding with them in their customary walks, they all sat down
together to rest; but the boys soon quitted their tutor to catch
butterflies, and to gather the wild flowers which grew in abundance
around them. Their murderer was at that moment engaged in preparing the
weapon for their slaughter, and presently calling them to him, he
reprimanded them for disclosing to their parents the particulars of the
scene which they had witnessed, and declared his intention to put them
to death. Terrified by this threat, they ran from him; but he pursued
and overtook them, and then throwing one of them on the ground and
placing his knee on his chest, he soon despatched his brother by cutting
his throat with a penknife. This first victim disposed of, he speedily
completed his fell purpose, with regard to the child whose person he had
already secured. The deed, it will be observed, was perpetrated in open
day; and it would have been remarkable, indeed, if, within half a mile
of the chief city of Scotland, there had been no human eye to see so
horrible an act. A gentleman who was walking on the Castle Hill had a
tolerable view of what passed, and immediately ran to the spot where the
deceased children were lying; giving the alarm as he went along, in
order that the murderer might be secured. The latter, having
accomplished his object, proceeded towards the river to drown himself,
but was prevented from fulfilling his intention; and having been seized,
he was soon placed in safe custody, intelligence of the frightful event
being meanwhile conveyed to the parents of the unhappy children.
The prisoner was within a few days brought to trial, under the old
Scottish law, by which it was provided that a murderer, being found with
the blood of his victim on his clothes, should be prosecuted in the
Sheriff's Court, and executed within three days. The frightful nature of
the case rendered it scarcely uncharitable to pursue a law so vigorous
according to its letter, and a jury having been accordingly impanelled,
the prisoner was brought to trial, and pleaded guilty, adding the
horrible announcement of his regret that Miss Gordon had escaped from
his revenge. The sentence of death was passed upon the culprit by the
sheriff, but it was directed to be carried into effect with the
additional terms, that the prisoner should first have his right hand
struck off; that he should then be drawn up to the gibbet, erected near
the locality of the murder, by a rope; and that after execution, he
should be hanged in chains, between Edinburgh and Leith, the weapon of
destruction being passed through his hand, which should be advanced over
his head, and fixed to the top of the gibbet. The sentence, barbarous as
it may now appear, was carried into full execution on the 22nd of
August, 1700; and frightful to relate, he, who in life had professed to
be a teacher of the Gospel, on his scaffold declared himself to be an
Atheist. His words were, "There is no God--or if there be, I hold him in
defiance." The body of the executed man, having been at first suspended
in chains according to the precise terms of his sentence, was
subsequently, at the desire of Mr. Gordon, removed to the outskirts of
the village of Broughton, near Edinburgh.
ALEXANDER BALFOUR.
CONVICTED OF MURDER.
The case of this criminal is worthy of some attention, from the very
remarkable circumstances by which it was attended. The subject of this
sketch was born in 1687, at the seat of his father, Lord Burley, near
Kinross; and having studied successively at Orwell, near the place of
his birth, and at St. Andrews, so successfully as to obtain considerable
credit, he returned home, being intended by his father to join the army
of the Duke of Marlborough, then in Flanders. Here he became enamoured
of Miss Robertson, the governess of his sisters, however; and in order
to break off the connexion he was sent to make the tour through France
and Italy, the young lady being dismissed from the house of her patron.
Balfour, before his quitting Scotland, declared his intention, if ever
the young lady should marry, to murder her husband; but deeming this to
be merely an empty threat, she was, during his absence, united to a Mr.
Syme, with whom she went to live at Inverkeithing. On his return to his
father's house, he learned this fact, and immediately proceeded to put
his threat into execution. Mrs. Syme, on seeing him, remembering his
expressed determination, screamed with affright; but her husband,
unconscious of offence, advanced to her aid, and in the interim, Balfour
entering the room, shot him through the heart. The offender escaped, but
was soon afterwards apprehended near Edinburgh; and being tried, was
convicted and sentenced to be beheaded by the _maiden_[1], on account of
the nobility of his family.
The subsequent escape of the criminal from an ignominious end is not the
least remarkable part of his case. The scaffold was actually erected for
the purpose of his execution; but on the day before it was to take place
his sister went to visit him, and, being very like him in face and
stature, they changed clothes, and he escaped from prison. His friends
having provided horses for him, he proceeded to a distant village, where
he lay concealed until an opportunity was eventually offered him of
quitting the kingdom. His father died in the reign of Queen Anne, but he
had first obtained a pardon for his son, who succeeded to the title and
honours of the family, and died in the year 1752, sincerely penitent for
his crime.
CAPTAIN JOHN KIDD,
SURNAMED THE WIZARD OF THE SEAS, AND DARBY MULLINS.
HANGED FOR PIRACY.
The first-named subject of this memoir was born at Greenock, in
Scotland, and was bred to the sea; and quitting his native land at an
early age, he resided at New York, where he eventually became possessed
of a small vessel, with which he traded among the pirates, and obtained
a complete knowledge of their haunts. His ruling passion was avarice,
although he was not destitute of that courage which became necessary in
the profession in which he eventually embarked. His frequent remarks
upon the subject of piracy, and the facility with which it might be
checked, having attracted the attention of some considerable planters,
who had recently suffered from the depredations of the marauders who
infested the seas of the West Indies, obtained for him a name which
eventually proved of great service to him. The constant and daring
interruptions offered to trading ships, encouraged as they were by the
inhabitants of North America, who were not loath to profit by the
irregularities of the pirates, having attracted the attention of the
Government, the Earl of Bellamont, an Irish nobleman of distinguished
character and abilities, was sent out to take charge of the government
of New England and New York, with special instructions upon the subject
of these marine depredators. Colonel Livingston, a gentleman of property
and consideration, was consulted upon the subject by the governor; and
Kidd, who was then possessed of a sloop of his own, was recommended as a
fit person to be employed against the pirates. The suggestion met the
approbation of Lord Bellamont; but the unsettled state of public affairs
rendered the further intervention of Government impossible; and a
private company, consisting of the Duke of Shrewsbury, the Lord
Chancellor Somers, the Earls of Romney and Oxford, Colonel Livingston,
and other persons of rank, agreed to raise 6000_l._ to pay the expenses
of a voyage, the purpose of which was to be directed to the removal of
the existing evil; and it was agreed that the Colonel and Capt. Kidd,
who was to have charge of the expedition, should receive one-fifth of
the profits. A commission was then prepared for Kidd, directing him to
seize and take pirates, and to bring them to justice; but the further
proceedings of the Captain, and of his officers, were left unprovided
for.
A vessel was purchased and manned, and she sailed under the name of the
"Adventure," from London for New York, at the end of the year 1695. A
French ship was seized as a prize during the voyage; and the vessel
subsequently proceeded to the Madeira Islands, to Buonavista, and St.
Jago, and thence to Madagascar, in search of further spoil. A second
prize was subsequently made at Calicut, of a vessel of 150 tons burden,
which was sold at Madagascar; and, at the termination of a few weeks,
the "Adventure" made prize of the "Quedah Merchant," a vessel of 400
tons burden, commanded by an Englishman named Wright, and officered by
two Dutch mates and a French gunner, and whose crew consisted of Moors.
The captain having carried this vessel into Madagascar, he burned the
"Adventure," and then proceeded to divide the lading of the prize with
his crew, taking forty shares for himself.
He seems now to have determined to act entirely apart from his owners,
and he accordingly sailed in the "Quedah Merchant" to the West Indies.
At Anguilla and St. Thomas's, he was refused refreshments; but he
eventually succeeded in obtaining supplies at Mona, between Porto Rico
and Hispaniola, through the instrumentality of an Englishman named
Button. This man, who thus at first affected to be friendly to the
pirate, soon showed the extent to which his friendship was to be relied
upon. He sold a sloop to Kidd, in which the latter sailed, leaving the
"Quedah Merchant" in his care; but on proceeding to Boston, New
England, he found his friend there before him, having disposed of the
"Quedah Merchant" to the Spaniards, and having besides given information
of his piratical expedition. He was now immediately seized by order of
Lord Bellamont, before whom he endeavoured to justify his proceedings,
by contending that he had taken none but lawful prizes; but his lordship
transmitted an account of the whole transaction to England, requiring
that a ship might be sent to convey Kidd home, in order that he might be
punished. A great clamour arose upon this, and attempts were made to
show that the proceedings of the pirate had been connived at by the
projectors of the undertaking, and a motion was made in the House of
Commons, that "The letters-patent granted to the Earl of Bellamont and
others, respecting the goods taken from pirates, were dishonourable to
the king, against the law of nations, contrary to the laws and statutes
of this realm, an invasion of property, and destructive to commerce."
Though a negative was put on this motion, yet the enemies of Lord Somers
and the Earl of Oxford continued to charge those noblemen with giving
countenance to pirates; and it was even insinuated that the Earl of
Bellamont was not less culpable than the actual offenders. Another
motion was in consequence made to address his Majesty, that "Kidd might
not be tried till the next session of parliament; and that the Earl of
Bellamont might be directed to send home all examinations and other
papers relative to the affair." This was carried, and the king complied
with the request which was made. As soon as Kidd arrived in England, he
was sent for, and examined at the bar of the house, with a view to show
the guilt of the parties who had been concerned in sending him on the
expedition; but nothing arose to criminate any of those distinguished
persons. Kidd, who was in some degree intoxicated, made a contemptible
appearance at the bar of the house; and a member, who had been one of
the most earnest to have him examined, violently exclaimed, "I thought
the fellow had been only a knave, but unfortunately he happens to be a
fool likewise." Kidd was at length tried at the Old Bailey, and was
convicted on the clearest evidence; but neither at that time, nor
afterwards, did he charge any of his employers with being privy to his
infamous proceedings.
He was executed with one of his companions, at Execution Dock, on the
23d of May, 1701. After he had been tied up to the gallows, the rope
broke, and he fell to the ground; but being immediately tied up again,
the Ordinary, who had before exhorted him, desired to speak with him
once more; and, on this second application, entreated him to make the
most careful use of the few further moments thus providentially allotted
to him for the final preparation of his soul to meet its important
change. These exhortations appeared to have the wished-for effect; and
he died, professing his charity to all the world, and his hopes of
salvation through the merits of his Redeemer.
The companion in crime of this malefactor, and his companion also at the
gallows, was named Darby Mullins. He was born in a village in the north
of Ireland, about sixteen miles from Londonderry; and having resided
with his father, and followed the business of husbandry till he was
about eighteen, the old man then died, and the young one went to Dublin:
but he had not been long there before he was enticed to go to the West
Indies, where he was sold to a planter, with whom he resided four
years. At the expiration of that term he became his own master, and
followed the business of a waterman, in which he saved money enough to
purchase a small vessel, in which he traded from one island to another,
till the time of the earthquake at Jamaica in the year 1691, from the
effects of which he was preserved in a miraculous manner. He afterwards
went to Kingston, where he kept a punch-house, and then proceeding to
New York, he married; but at the end of two years his wife dying, he
unfortunately fell into company with Kidd, and joined him in his
piratical practices. He was apprehended, with his commander, and, as we
have already stated, suffered the extreme penalty of the law with him.
GEORGE CADDELL.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF MISS PRICE, WHOM HE HAD SEDUCED.
This delinquent was a native of Bromsgrove, in Worcestershire, where he
was articled to an apothecary. Having served his time, he proceeded to
London to complete his studies in surgery, and he then entered the
service of Mr. Randall, a surgeon at Worcester, as an assistant. He was
here admired for his extremely amiable character, as well as for the
abilities which he possessed; and he married the daughter of his
employer, who, however, died in giving birth to her first child. He
subsequently resided with Mr. Dean, a surgeon at Lichfield; and during
his employment by that gentleman he became enamoured of his daughter,
and would have been married to her, but for the commission of the crime
which cost him his life.
It would appear that he had become acquainted with a young woman named
Elizabeth Price, who had been seduced by an officer in the army, and who
supported herself by her skill in needle-work, residing near Mr.
Caddell's abode. An intimacy subsisted between them, the result of which
was the pregnancy of Miss Price; and she repeatedly urged her paramour
to marry her. Mr. Caddell resisted her importunities for a considerable
time, until at last Miss Price, hearing of his paying his addresses to
Miss Dean, became more importunate than ever, and threatened, in case of
his non-compliance with her wishes, to put an end to all his prospects
with that young lady, by discovering everything that had passed between
them. Hereupon Caddell formed the horrid resolution of murdering Miss
Price. He accordingly called on her on a Saturday evening, and requested
that she would walk in the fields with him on the afternoon of the
following; day, in order to adjust the plan of their intended marriage.
Thus deluded, she met him at the time appointed, on the road leading
towards Burton-upon-Trent, at the Nag's Head public-house, and
accompanied her supposed lover into the fields. They walked about till
towards evening, when they sat down under the hedge, and after a little
conversation, Caddell suddenly pulled out a knife, cut the wretched
woman's throat, and made his escape. In the distraction of his mind, he
left behind him the knife with which he had perpetrated the deed,
together with his case of instruments. On his returning home it was
observed that he appeared exceedingly confused, though the reason of the
perturbation of his mind could not be guessed at; but, on the following
morning, Miss Price being found murdered in the field, great numbers of
people went to see the body. Among them was the woman of the house where
she lodged, who recollected that she had said she was going to walk with
Mr. Caddell; and then the instruments were examined, and were known to
have belonged to him. He was in consequence taken into custody, and
committed to the gaol of Stafford; and, being soon afterward tried, was
found guilty, condemned, and executed at Stafford on the 21st of July,
1701.
THOMAS COOK.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The death of this person exhibits the singular fatality which attends
some men who have been guilty of crime. Cook was the son of a butcher,
who was considered a person of respectability, residing at Gloucester.
He was apprenticed to a barber-surgeon in London; but running away
before his time had expired, he entered the service of one of the pages
of honour to William III.; but he soon after quitted this situation to
set up at Gloucester as a butcher, upon the recommendation of his
mother.
Restless, however, in every station of life, he repaired to London,
where he commenced prize-fighter at May-fair; which, at this time, was a
place greatly frequented by prize-fighters, thieves, and women of bad
character. Here puppet-shows were exhibited, and it was the favourite
resort of all the profligate and abandoned, until at length the nuisance
increased to such a degree, that Queen Anne issued her Proclamation for
the Suppression of Vice and Immorality, with a particular view to this
fair; in consequence of which the justices of peace issued their warrant
to the high constable, who summoned all the inferior constables to his
assistance. When they came to suppress the fair, Cook, with a mob of
about thirty soldiers, and other persons, stood in defiance of the
peace-officers, and threw brickbats at them, by which some of them were
wounded. Cooper, a constable, being the most active, Cook drew his sword
and stabbed him in the belly, and he died of the wound at the expiration
of four days. Hereupon Cook fled to Ireland, and, as it was deposed upon
his trial, while he was in a public house, he swore in a profane manner,
for which the landlord censured him, and told him there were persons in
the house who would take him in custody for it; to which he answered,
"Are there any of the informing dogs in Ireland? we in London drive
them; for at a fair called May-fair, there was a noise which I went out
to see--six soldiers and myself--the constables played their parts with
their staves, and I played mine; and, when the man dropped, I wiped my
sword, put it up, and went away."
The fellow was, subsequently, taken into custody, and sent to Chester,
whence being removed to London, he was tried at the Old Bailey, was
convicted, and received sentence of death.
After conviction he solemnly denied the crime for which he had been
condemned, declaring that he had no sword in his hand on the day the
constable was killed, and was not in company with those who killed him.
Having received the sacrament on the 21st of July, 1703, he was taken
from Newgate to be carried to Tyburn; but, when he had got to High
Holborn, opposite Bloomsbury, a respite arrived for him till the
following Friday. On his return to Newgate he was visited by numbers of
his acquaintance, who rejoiced on his narrow escape. On Friday he
received another respite till the 11th of August, but on that day he was
executed.
JOHN PETER DRAMATTI.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE.
This unfortunate man was the son of Protestant parents, and was born at
Saverdun, in the county of Foix, and province of Languedoc, in France.
He received a religious education; but when he arrived at years of
maturity, he left his own country, and went into Germany, where he
served as a horse-grenadier under the Elector of Brandenburgh, who was
afterwards King of Prussia. When he had been in this condition about a
year, he came over to England, and entered into the service of Lord
Haversham, and afterwards enlisted as a soldier in the regiment of
Colonel de la Melonière. Having made two campaigns in Flanders, the
regiment was ordered into Ireland, where it was dismissed from farther
service; in consequence of which Dramatti obtained his discharge.
He now became acquainted with a widow, between fifty and sixty years of
age, who pretended that she had a great fortune, and was allied to the
royal family of France; and he soon married her, not only on account of
her supposed wealth and rank, but also of her understanding English and
Irish, thinking it prudent to have a wife who could speak the language
of the country in which he proposed to spend the remainder of his life.
As soon as he discovered that his wife had no fortune, he went to London
and offered his services to Lord Haversham, and was again admitted as
one of his domestics. His wife, unhappy on account of their separate
residence, wished to live with him at Lord Haversham's, which he would
not consent to, saying, that his lordship did not know he was married.
The wife now began to evince the jealousy of her disposition, and
frequent quarrels took place between them, because he was unable to be
with her so frequently as she desired.
At length, on the 9th of June, 1703, Dramatti was sent to London from
his master's house at Kensington, and calling upon his wife at her
lodgings near Soho-square, she endeavoured to prevail upon him to stay
with her. This, however, he refused; and finding that he was going home,
she went before him, and stationed herself at the Park-gate. On his
coming up, she declared that he should go no further, unless she
accompanied him; but he quitted her abruptly, and went onwards to
Chelsea. She pursued him to the Bloody Bridge, and there seized him by
the neckcloth, and would have strangled him, but that he beat her off
with his cane. He then attacked her with his sword; and having wounded
her in so many places as to conclude that he had killed her, his passion
immediately began to subside, and, falling on his knees, he devoutly
implored the pardon of God for the horrid sin of which he had been
guilty. He went on to Kensington, where his fellow-servants observing
that his clothes were bloody, he said he had been attacked by two men
in Hyde Park, who would have robbed him of his clothes, but that he
defended himself, and broke the head of one of them.
The real fact, however, was subsequently discovered; and Dramatti being
taken before a magistrate, to whom he confessed his crime, the body of
his wife was found in a ditch between Hyde Park and Chelsea, and a track
of blood was seen to the distance of twenty yards; at the end of which a
piece of a sword was found sticking in a bank, which fitted the other
part of the sword in the prisoner's possession. The circumstances
attending the murder being proved to the satisfaction of the jury, the
culprit was found guilty, condemned, and, on the 21st of July, 1703, was
executed at Tyburn.
WILLIAM ELBY.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This young man was born in the year 1667, at Deptford, in Kent, and
served his time with a blockmaker at Rotherhithe, during which he became
acquainted with some women of ill fame. After the term of his
apprenticeship had expired, he kept company with young fellows of such
bad character, that he found it necessary to enter on board a ship to
prevent worse consequences. Having returned from sea, he enlisted as a
soldier; but while in this situation he committed many small thefts, in
order to support the women with whom he was connected. At length he
deserted from the army, assumed a new name, and prevailed on some of his
companions to engage in housebreaking.
Detection soon terminated his career, and in September 1704, he was
indicted for robbing the house of ---- Barry, Esq. of Fulham, and
murdering his gardener. Elby, it seems, having determined on robbing the
house, arrived at Fulham soon after midnight, and had wrenched open one
of the windows, at which he was getting in, when the gardener, awaking,
came down to prevent the intended robbery with a light in his hand.
Elby, terrified lest he should be known, seized a knife and stabbed him
to the heart, and the poor man immediately fell dead at his feet. This
done, he broke open a chest of drawers, and stole about two hundred and
fifty pounds, with which he repaired to his associates in London.
The murder soon became the subject of very general conversation, and
Elby being at a public-house in the Strand, it was mentioned, and he
became so alarmed on seeing one of the company rise and quit the house,
that he suddenly ran away, without paying his reckoning. The landlord
was enraged at his being cheated; and learning his address from one of
his companions, he caused him to be apprehended, and he was eventually
committed for trial on suspicion of being concerned in the robbery and
murder.
On his trial he steadily denied the perpetration of the crimes with
which he was charged; and his conviction would have been very doubtful,
had not a woman with whom he cohabited become an evidence, and sworn
that he came from Fulham with the money the morning after the commission
of the fact. Some other persons also deposed that they saw him come out
of Mr. Barry's house on the morning the murder was committed; and he was
found guilty, and having received sentence of death, was executed at
Fulham, on the 13th September, 1704, and was hung in chains near the
same place.
JOHN SMITH.
CONVICTED OF ROBBERY.
Though the crimes committed by this man were not particularly atrocious,
nor his life sufficiently remarkable for a place in this work, yet the
circumstances attending his fate at the place of execution are perhaps
more singular than any we may have to record. He was the son of a farmer
at Malton, about fifteen miles from the city of York, who bound him
apprentice to a packer in London, with whom he served his time, and
afterwards worked as a journeyman. He then went to sea on board a
man-of-war, and was at the expedition against Vigo; but on his return
from that service he was discharged. He afterwards enlisted as a soldier
in the regiment of Guards commanded by Lord Cutts; but in this station
he soon made bad connexions, and engaged with some of his dissolute
companions as a housebreaker. On the 5th of December, 1705, he was
arraigned on four different indictments, on two of which he was
convicted. While he lay under sentence of death, he seemed very little
affected with his situation, absolutely depending on a reprieve, through
the interest of his friends. An order, however, came for his execution
on the 24th day of the same month, in consequence of which he was
carried to Tyburn, where he performed his devotions, and was turned off
in the usual manner; but when he had hung near fifteen minutes, the
people present cried out, "A reprieve!" Hereupon the malefactor was cut
down, and, being conveyed to a house in the neighbourhood, he soon
revived, upon his being bled, and other proper remedies applied.
When he perfectly recovered his senses, he was asked what were his
feelings at the time of execution; to which he repeatedly replied, in
substance, as follows:--"That when he was turned off, he, for some time,
was sensible of very great pain, occasioned by the weight of his body,
and felt his spirits in a strange commotion, violently pressing upwards;
that having forced their way to his head, he, as it were, saw a great
blaze, or glaring light, which seemed to go out at his eyes with a
flash, and then he lost all sense of pain. That after he was cut down,
and began to come to himself, the blood and spirits, forcing themselves
into their former channels, put him, by a sort of pricking or shooting,
to such intolerable pain, that he could have wished those hanged who had
cut him down." From this circumstance he was called "Half-hanged Smith."
After this narrow escape from the grave, Smith pleaded to his pardon on
the 20th of February, and was discharged; yet such was his propensity to
evil deeds, that he returned to his former practices, and, being
apprehended, was again tried at the Old Bailey, for housebreaking; but
some difficulties arising in the case, the affair was left to the
opinion of the twelve judges, who determined in favour of the prisoner.
After this second extraordinary escape, he was a third time indicted;
but the prosecutor happening to die before the day of trial, he once
more obtained that liberty which his conduct showed had not deserved.
We have no account of what became of this man after this third
remarkable incident in his favour; but Christian charity inclines us to
hope that he made a proper use of the singular dispensation of
Providence evidenced in his own person.
It was not infrequently the case, that, in Dublin, men were formerly
seen walking about who, it was known, had been sentenced to suffer the
extreme penalty of the law, and upon whom, strange as it may appear to
unenlightened eyes, the sentence had been carried out. The custom until
lately was, that the body should hang only half an hour; and, in a
mistaken lenity, the sheriff, in whose hands was entrusted the execution
of the law, would look away, after the prisoner had been turned off,
while the friends of the culprit would hold up their companion by the
waistband of his breeches, so that the rope should not press upon his
throat. They would, at the expiration of the usual time, thrust their
"deceased" friend into a cart, in which they would gallop him over all
the stones and rough ground they came near, which was supposed to be a
never-failing recipe, in order to revive him, professedly, and indeed in
reality, with the intention of "waking" him. An anecdote is related of a
fellow named Mahony, who had been convicted of the murder of a
Connaught-man, in one of the numerous Munster and Connaught wars, and
whose execution had been managed in the manner above described; who,
being put into the cart in a coffin by his Munster friends, on his way
home was so revived, and so overjoyed at finding himself still alive,
that he sat upright and gave three hearty cheers, by way of assuring his
friends of his safety. A "jontleman" who was shocked at this indecent
conduct in his defunct companion, and who was, besides, afraid of their
scheme being discovered and thwarted, immediately, with the sapling
which he carried, hit him a thump on the head, which effectually
silenced his self-congratulations. On their arrival at home, they found
that the "friendly" warning which had been given to the poor wretch, had
been more effectual than the hangman's rope; and the wailings and
lamentations which had been employed at the place of execution to drown
the encouraging cries of the aiders of the criminal's escape, were
called forth in reality at his wake on the same night. It was afterwards
a matter of doubt whether the fellow who dealt the unfortunate blow
ought not to have been charged with the murder of his half-hanged
companion; but "a justice" being consulted, it was thought no one could
be successfully charged with the murder of a man who was already dead in
law.
WILLIAM GREGG.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
The treason of which this offender was convicted was that of "adhering
to the Queen's enemies, and giving them aid, without the realm," which
was made a capital offence by the statute of Edward III.
It appears that Gregg was a native of Montrose, in Scotland, and having
received such instruction as the grammar-schools of the place afforded,
he
[Illustration: _An Irish Wake._]
completed his education at Aberdeen university, where he pursued these
studies which were calculated to fit him for the profession of the
church, for which he was intended. London, however, held forth so many
attractions to his youthful eye, that the wishes of his relatives were
soon overruled; and having visited that city, with good introductions,
he was, after some time, appointed secretary to the ambassador at the
court of Sweden. But while performing the duties of his office, he was
guilty of so many and so great excesses, that he was at length compelled
to retire, and London once more became his residence. His good fortune
placed him in a situation alike honourable and profitable, but his
dishonest and traitorous conduct in his employment, was such as to cost
him his life, and to involve his employers in political difficulties of
no ordinary kind. Having been engaged by Mr. Secretary Harley, minister
of the reigning sovereign, Queen Anne, to write despatches, he took
advantage of the knowledge which he thus gained, and voluntarily opened
a communication with the enemies of his country. England, it will be
remembered, was at this time in a situation of no ordinary difficulty;
and the position of her Majesty's ministers, harassed as they were by
the opposition of their political antagonists, was rendered even more
difficult by the disclosures of their traitorous servant.
We shall take the advantage afforded us by Bishop Burnet's History, of
laying before our readers a more authentic account of this transaction
than is given by the usual channels of information to which we have
access. He says, "At this time two discoveries were made very unlucky
for Mr. Harley: Tallard wrote often to Chamillard, but he sent the
letters open to the secretary's office, to be perused and sealed up, and
so be conveyed by the way of Holland. These were opened upon some
suspicion in Holland, and it appeared that one in the secretary's office
put letters in them, in which, as he offered his services to the courts
of France and St. Germains, so he gave an account of all transactions
here. In one of these he sent a copy of the letter that the Queen was to
write in her own hand to the Emperor; and he marked what parts were
drawn by the secretary, and what additions were made to it by the lord
treasurer. This was the letter by which the Queen pressed the sending
Prince Eugene into Spain; and this, if not intercepted, would have been
at Versailles many days before it could reach Vienna.
"He who sent this wrote, that by this they might see what service he
could do them, if well encouraged. All this was sent over to the Duke of
Marlborough; and, upon search, it was found to be written by one Gregg,
a clerk, whom Harley had not only entertained, but had taken into a
particular confidence, without inquiring into the former parts of his
life; for he was a vicious and necessitous person, who had been
secretary to the Queen's envoy in Denmark, but was dismissed by him for
his ill qualities. Harley had made use of him to get him intelligence,
and he came to trust him with the perusal and sealing up of the letters,
which the French prisoners, here in England, sent over to France; and by
that means he got into the method of sending intelligence thither. He,
when seized on, either upon remorse or hopes of pardon, confessed all,
and signed his confession: upon that he was tried, and, pleading guilty,
was condemned as a traitor, for corresponding with the Queen's enemies.
"At the same time Valiere and Bara, whom Harley had employed as his
spies to go often over to Calais, under the pretence of bringing him
intelligence, were informed against, as spies employed by France to get
intelligence from England, who carried over many letters to Calais and
Boulogne, and, as was believed, gave such information of our trade and
convoys, that by their means we had made our great losses at sea. They
were often complained of upon suspicion, but they were always protected
by Harley; yet the presumptions against them were so violent, that they
were at last seized on, and brought up prisoners."
The Whigs took such advantage of this circumstance, that Mr. Harley was
obliged to resign; and his enemies were inclined to carry matters still
further, and were resolved, if possible, to find out evidence enough to
affect his life. With this view, the House of Lords ordered a committee
to examine Gregg and the other prisoners, who were very assiduous in the
discharge of their commission, as will appear by the following account,
written by the same author:--
"The Lords who were appointed to examine Gregg could not find out much
by him: he had but newly begun his designs of betraying secrets, and he
had no associates with him in it. He told them that all the papers of
state lay so carelessly about the office that every one belonging to it,
even the door-keepers, might have read them all. Harley's custom was to
come to the office late on post-nights, and, after he had given his
orders, and wrote his letters, he usually went away, and left all to be
copied out when he was gone. By that means he came to see every thing,
in particular the Queen's letter to the Emperor. He said he knew the
design on Toulon in May last, but he did not discover it; for he had not
entered on his ill practices till October. This was all he could say.
"By the examination of Valiere and Bara, and of many others who lived
about Dover, and were employed by them, a discovery was made of a
constant intercourse they were in with Calais, under Harley's
protection. They often went over with boats full of wool, and brought
back brandy, though both the import and export were severely prohibited.
They, and those who belonged to the boats carried over by them, were
well treated on the French side at the governor's house, or at the
commissary's: they were kept there till their letters were sent to
Paris, and till returns could be brought back, and were all the while
upon free cost. The order that was constantly given them was, that if an
English or Dutch ship came up with them, they should cast their letters
into the sea, but that they should not do it when French ships came up
with them: so they were looked on by all on that coast as the spies of
France. They used to get what information they could, both of
merchant-ships and of the ships of war that lay in the Downs, and upon
that they usually went over; and it happened that soon after some of
those ships were taken. These men, as they were Papists, so they behaved
themselves insolently, and boasted much of their power and credit.
"Complaints had been often made of them, but they were always protected;
nor did it appear that they ever brought any information of importance
to Harley but once, when, according to what they swore, they told him
that Fourbin was gone from Dunkirk, to lie in wait for the Russian
fleet, which proved to be true; he both went to watch for them, and he
took the greater part of the fleet. Yet, though this was a single piece
of intelligence that they ever brought, Harley took so little notice of
it, that he gave no advertisement to the Admiralty concerning it. This
particular excepted, they only brought over common news, and the Paris
Gazeteer. These examinations lasted for some weeks; when they were
ended, a full report was made of them to the House of Lords, and they
ordered the whole report, with all the examinations, to be laid before
the Queen."
Upon the conviction of Gregg, both houses of parliament petitioned the
Queen that he might be executed; and, on the 28th April, 1708, he was
accordingly hanged at Tyburn.
While on the scaffold, he delivered a paper to the sheriffs of London
and Middlesex, in which he acknowledged the justice of his sentence,
declared his sincere repentance of all his sins, particularly that
lately committed against the Queen, whose forgiveness he devoutly
implored. He also expressed his wish to make all possible reparation for
the injuries he had done; and testified the perfect innocence of Mr.
Secretary Harley, whom he declared to have been no party to his
proceedings. He professed that he died a member of the Protestant
church; and declared that the want of money to supply his extravagances
had tempted him to commit the fatal crime, which cost him his life.
It is a remarkable circumstance in the life of this offender, that while
he was corresponding with the enemy, and taking measures to subvert the
government, he had no predilection in favour of the Pretender. On the
contrary, he declared, while he was under sentence of death, that "he
never thought he had any right to the throne of these realms."
RICHARD THORNHILL, ESQ.,
CONVICTED OF MANSLAUGHTER, IN KILLING SIR C. DEERING IN A DUEL.
This was a case which arose out of the practice of duelling, which has
always existed almost peculiarly among the higher classes of society.
Mr. Thornhill and Sir Cholmondeley Deering having dined together on the
7th of April, 1711, in company with several other gentlemen, at the Toy
at Hampton Court, a quarrel arose, during which Sir Cholmondeley struck
Mr. Thornhill. A scuffle ensuing, the wainscot of the room broke down,
and Thornhill falling, the other stamped on him, and beat out some of
his teeth. The company now interposed, and Sir Cholmondeley, convinced
that he had acted improperly, declared that he was willing to ask
pardon; but Mr. Thornhill said, that asking pardon was not a proper
retaliation for the injury that he had received; adding, "Sir
Cholmondeley, you know where to find me." Soon after this the company
broke up, and the parties went home in different coaches, without any
farther steps being taken towards their reconciliation.
On the next day, the following letter was written by Mr. Thornhill:--
"April 8th, 1711.
"Sir,--I shall be able to go abroad to-morrow morning, and desire
you will give me a meeting with your sword and pistols, which I
insist on. The worthy gentleman who brings you this will concert
with you the time and place. I think Tothill Fields will do well;
Hyde Park will not at this time of year, being full of company.
"I am your humble servant,
"RICHARD THORNHILL."
On the 9th of April, Sir Cholmondeley went to the lodgings of Mr
Thornhill, and the servant showed him to the dining-room. He ascended
with a brace of pistols in his hands; and soon afterwards, Mr. Thornhill
coming to him, asked him if he would drink tea, but he declined. A
hackney-coach was then sent for, and the gentlemen rode to Tothill
Fields, where, unattended by seconds, they proceeded to fight their
duel. They fired their pistols almost at the same moment, and Sir
Cholmondeley, being mortally wounded, fell to the ground. Mr, Thornhill,
after lamenting the unhappy catastrophe, was going away, when a person
stopped him, told him he had been guilty of murder, and took him before
a justice of the peace, who committed him to prison.
On the 18th of May, Mr. Thornhill was indicted at the Old Bailey
sessions for the murder; and the facts already detailed having been
proved, the accused called several witnesses to show how ill he had been
used by Sir Cholmondeley; that he had languished some time of the wounds
he had received; during which he could take no other sustenance than
liquids, and that his life was in imminent danger. Several persons of
distinction swore that Mr. Thornhill was of a peaceable disposition, and
that, on the contrary, the deceased was of a remarkably quarrelsome
temper; and it was also deposed, that Sir Cholmondeley, being asked if
he came by his hurt through unfair usage, replied, "No; poor Thornhill!
I am sorry for him; this misfortune was my own fault, and of my own
seeking. I heartily forgive him, and desire you all to take notice of
it, that it may be of some service to him, and that one misfortune may
not occasion another."
The jury acquitted Mr. Thornhill of the murder, but found him guilty of
manslaughter; in consequence of which he was burnt in the hand.
COLONEL JOHN HAMILTON.
CONVICTED OF MANSLAUGHTER AS SECOND IN A DUEL.
There was no occurrence which at the time occupied so much of the public
attention, and excited so much general interest, as the duel which took
place in the year 1711, between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun; in
which, unhappily, both the principals fell.
The gentleman who is the subject of the present notice, was the second
of the noble duke, and appears to have been connected with him by the
ties of relationship. At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, on the
11th of September, he was indicted for the murder of Charles Lord Mohun,
Baron of Oakhampton, on the 15th of November preceding; and at the same
time he was indicted for abetting Charles Lord Mohun, and George
Macartney, Esq., in the murder of James, Duke of Hamilton and Brandon.
Colonel Hamilton pleaded not guilty; and evidence was then adduced,
which showed that Lord Mohun having met the Duke of Hamilton at the
chambers of a master in chancery, on Thursday the 13th of November, a
misunderstanding arose between them respecting the testimony of a
witness.
On the return home of his lordship, he directed that no person should be
admitted to him, except Mr. Macartney; and subsequently he went with
that gentleman to a tavern. The Duke of Hamilton and his second, Colonel
Hamilton, were also at the tavern; and from thence they all proceeded to
Hyde Park. The only evidence which exhibited the real circumstances
immediately attending the duel, was that of William Morris, a groom, who
deposed that, "as he was walking his horses towards Hyde Park, he
followed a hackney-coach with two gentlemen in it, whom he saw alight by
the Lodge, and walk together towards the left part of the ring. They
were there about a quarter of an hour, when he saw two other gentlemen
come to them; and, after having saluted each other, one of them, who he
was since told was the Duke of Hamilton, threw off his cloak; and one of
the other two, who he now understands was Lord Mohun, his surtout coat,
and all immediately drew. The duke and lord pushed at each other but a
very little while, when the duke closed, and took the lord by the
collar, who fell down and groaned, and the duke fell upon him. That just
as Lord Mohun was dropping, he saw him lay hold of the duke's sword, but
could not tell whether the sword was at that time in his body; nor did
he see any wound given after the closing, and was sure Lord Mohun did
not shorten his sword. He declared he did not see the seconds fight; but
they had their swords in their hands, assisting their lords."
It further appeared that the bodies of the deceased noblemen were
examined by Messrs. Boussier and Amie, surgeons; and that in that of the
duke, a wound was found between the second and third ribs on his right
side; and also that there were wounds in his right arm, which had cut
the artery and one of the small tendons, as well as others in his right
and left leg. There was also a wound in his left side between his second
and third ribs, which ran down into his body, and pierced the midriff
and caul: but it appeared that the immediate cause of the sudden death
of his grace was the wound in his arm. It was further proved, as
regarded the body of Lord Mohun, that there was a wound between the
short ribs, quite through his belly, and another about three inches deep
in the upper part of his thigh; a large wound, about four inches wide,
in his groin, a little higher, which was the cause of his immediate
death; and another small wound on his left side; and that the fingers of
his left hand were cut.
The defence made by the prisoner was, that "the duke called him to go
abroad with him, but he knew not anything of the matter till he came
into the field."
Some Scottish noblemen, and other gentlemen of rank, gave Mr. Hamilton a
very excellent character, asserting that he was brave, honest, and
inoffensive; and the jury, having considered of the affair, gave a
verdict of "Manslaughter;" in consequence of which the prisoner prayed
the benefit of the statute, which was allowed him.
At the time the lives of these noblemen were thus unfortunately
sacrificed, many persons thought they fell by the hands of the seconds;
and some writers on the subject subsequently affected to be of the same
opinion: but nothing appears in the written or printed accounts of the
transaction, nor did anything arise on the trial, to warrant so
ungenerous a suspicion; it is therefore but justice to the memory of all
the parties to discredit such insinuations.
WILLIAM LOWTHER AND RICHARD KEELE.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF EDWARD PERRY, A TURNKEY OF CLERKENWELL
BRIDEWELL.
William Lowther was a native of Cumberland, and being bound to the
master of a Newcastle ship which traded to London, he became acquainted
with low abandoned company in the metropolis. Richard Keele was a native
of Hampshire, and served his time to a barber at Winchester; and on
coming to London, he married and settled in his own business in
Rotherhithe: but not living happily with his wife, he parted from her,
cohabited with another woman, and associated with a number of disorderly
people.
On the 10th of December, 1713, they were indicted at the Old Bailey, for
assisting Charles Houghton in the murder of Edward Perry. The case was
as follows:--The prisoners, together with two other desperate offenders,
of the name of Houghton and Cullum, having been convicted of felony at
the Old Bailey, were sentenced to be kept to hard labour in Clerkenwell
Bridewell for two years. On their being carried thither, Mr. Boreman,
the keeper, thought it necessary to put them in irons, to prevent their
escape. This they all refused to submit to; and Boreman having ordered
the irons, they broke into the room where the arms were deposited,
seized what they thought fit, and then attacked the keeper and his
assistants, and cruelly beat them. Lowther bit off part of a man's nose.
At this time, Perry, one of the turnkeys, was without the gate, and
desired the prisoners to be peaceable; but, advancing towards them, he
was stabbed by Houghton, and, during the fray, Houghton was shot dead.
The prisoners being at length victorious, many of them made their
escape; but the neighbours giving their assistance, Keele and Lowther,
and several others, were taken and convicted on the clearest evidence.
Some time after conviction, a smith went to the prison to take measure
of them for chains, in which they were to be hung, pursuant to an order
from the secretary of state's office; but they for some time resisted
him in this duty.
On the morning of execution (the 13th December, 1713), they were carried
from Newgate to Clerkenwell Green, and there hanged on a gallows; after
which, their bodies were put in a cart, drawn by four horses, decorated
with plumes of black feathers, and hung in chains.
WILLIAM JOHNSON AND JANE HOUSDEN.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF SPURLING, A TURNKEY IN THE OLD BAILEY.
It is not a little remarkable that two instances should have occurred
within so short a space of time as nine months, in which the officers of
the Crown should have fallen victims to the exertions which they were
compelled to make in the discharge of their duties. The male prisoner in
this case, William Johnson, was a native of Northamptonshire, where he
served his time to a butcher, and, removing to London, he opened a shop
in Newport Market; but business not succeeding to his expectation, he
pursued a variety of speculations, until at length he sailed to
Gibraltar, where he was appointed a mate to one of the surgeons of the
garrison. Having saved some money at this place, he came back to his
native country, where he soon spent it, and then had recourse to the
highway for a supply. Being apprehended in consequence of one of his
robberies, he was convicted, but received a pardon. Previously to this
he had been acquainted with Jane Housden, his fellow in crime, who had
been tried and convicted of coining, but had obtained a pardon; but who,
in September, 1714, was again in custody for a similar offence. On the
day that she was to be tried, and just as she was brought down to the
bar of the Old Bailey, Johnson called to see her; but Mr. Spurling, the
head turnkey, telling him that he could not speak to her till her trial
was ended, he instantly drew a pistol, and shot Spurling dead on the
spot, in the presence of the court and all the persons attending to hear
the trials, Mrs. Housden at the same time encouraging him in the
perpetration of this singular murder. The event had no sooner happened,
than the judges, thinking it unnecessary to proceed on the trial of the
woman for coining, ordered both the parties to be tried for the murder;
and there being many witnesses to the deed, they were convicted, and
received sentence of death. From this time to that of their execution,
which took place September 19th 1714, and even at the place of their
death, they behaved as if they were wholly insensible of the enormity of
the crime which they had committed; and notwithstanding the publicity of
their offence, they had the confidence to deny it to the last moment of
their lives: nor did they show any signs of compunction for their former
sins. After hanging the usual time, Johnson was hung in chains near
Holloway, between Islington and Highgate.
THE EARL OF DERWENTWATER, LORD KENMURE, THE EARL OF WINTON, AND OTHERS,
EXECUTED FOR TREASON.
The circumstances attending the crime of these individuals, intimately
connected as they were with the history of the Royal Family of England,
must be too well known to require them to be minutely repeated. On the
accession of George the First to the throne of Great Britain, the
question of the right of succession of King James the Third, as he was
termed, which had long been secretly agitated, began to be referred to
more openly; and his friends, finding themselves in considerable force
in Scotland, sent an invitation to him in France, where he had taken
refuge, to join them, for the purpose of making a demonstration, and of
endeavouring to assume by force, that which was denied him as of right.
The noblemen, whose names appear at the head of this article, were not
the least active in their endeavours to support the title of the
Pretender, by enlisting men under his standard; and their proceedings,
although conducted with all secrecy, were soon made known to the
government. The necessary steps were immediately taken for quelling the
anticipated rebellion; and many persons were apprehended on suspicion of
secretly aiding the rebels, and were committed to gaol.
Meanwhile the Earl of Mar, the chief supporter of the Pretender, was in
open rebellion at the head of an army of 3000 men, which was rapidly
increasing, marching from town to town in Scotland, proclaiming the
Pretender as King of England and Scotland, by the title of James III. An
attempt was made by stratagem to surprise the castle of Edinburgh; and
with this object, some of the king's soldiers were base enough to
receive a bribe to admit those of the Earl of Mar, who were, by means of
ladders of rope, to scale the walls, and surprise the guard; but the
Lord Justice Clerk, having some suspicion of the treachery, seized the
guilty, and many of them were executed.
The rebels were greatly chagrined at this failure of their attempt; and
the French king, Louis XIV., from whom they hoped for assistance, dying
about this time, the leaders became disheartened, and contemplated the
abandonment of their project, until their king could appear in person
among them.
They were aided, however, by the discontent which showed itself in
another quarter. In Northumberland the spirit of rebellion was fermented
by Thomas Forster, then one of the members of parliament for that
county; who, being joined by several noblemen and gentlemen, attempted
to seize the large and commercial town of Newcastle, but was driven back
by the friends of the government. Forster now set up the standard of the
Pretender, and proclaimed him the lawful king of Great Britain and
Scotland, wherever he went; and, eventually joining the Scotch rebels,
he marched with them to Preston, in Lancashire. They were there attacked
by Generals Carpenter and Wills, who succeeded in routing them, and in
making 1500 persons prisoners; amongst whom were the Earl of
Derwentwater and Lord Widrington, English peers; and the Earls of
Nithisdale, Winton, and Carnwarth, Viscount Kenmore, and Lord Nairn,
Scotch peers.
These noblemen, with about three hundred more rebels, were conveyed to
London; while the remainder, taken at the battle of Preston, were sent
to Liverpool, and its adjacent towns. At Highgate, the party intended
for trial in London was met by a strong detachment of foot-guards, who
tied them back to back, and placed two on each horse; and in this
ignominious manner were they held up to the derision of the populace,
the lords being conveyed to the Tower, and the others to Newgate and
other prisons.
The Earl of Mar, on the day of the battle, attempted to cross the Forth,
but was prevented by a squadron of the British fleet, which had anchored
off Edinburgh; and Sir John Mackenzie, on the part of the Pretender,
having fortified the town of Inverness, Lord Lovat, (at this time an
adherent of the reigning monarch, but subsequently a friend to the cause
of the Stuarts, for aiding whose rebellion in 1745 he was beheaded,)
armed his tenants, and drove him from his fortifications. The Pretender
subsequently managed to elude the vigilance of the British ships
appointed to prevent his landing, and crossing the Channel in a small
French vessel, disembarked in Scotland, with only six followers; but
having obtained the assistance of a few half-armed Highlanders, on the
9th of January 1716, he made a public entry into the palace of Scone,
the ancient place of coronation for the Scottish kings. He there assumed
the functions of a king, and so much of the powers of royalty as he was
able to secure, and issued a proclamation for his coronation. The Duke
of Argyle, at this time with his army in winter quarters at Stirling,
however, determined to attack the rebel forces, and advancing upon them,
they fled at his approach. The Pretender having been encouraged to rebel
by France, was in anticipation of receiving succour at the hands of the
French king, and in the hope of some aid reaching him, he proceeded to
Dundee, and thence to Montrose, where, soon rendered hopeless by
receiving no news of the approach of the foreigners, he dismissed his
adherents. The king's troops pursued and put several to death; but the
Pretender, accompanied by the Earl of Mar, and some of the leaders of
the rebellion, had the good fortune to get on board a ship lying before
Montrose; and, in a dark night, put to sea, escaped the English fleet,
and landed in France.
The unfortunate noblemen who had been secured were, meanwhile, committed
to the custody of the keeper of the Tower; and the House of Commons
unanimously agreed to impeach them, and expel Forster from his seat as
one of their members; while the courts of common law proceeded with the
trials of those of less note. The articles of impeachment being sent by
the Commons, the Lords sat in judgment; Earl Cowper, the Lord Chancellor
of England, being constituted Lord High Steward.
All the Peers who were charged, except the Earl of Winton, pleaded
guilty to the indictment, but offered pleas of extenuation for their
guilt, in hopes of obtaining mercy. In that of the Earl of Derwentwater,
he suggested that the proceedings in the House of Commons, in impeaching
him, were illegal.
Proclamation was then made, and the Lord High Steward proceeded to pass
sentence upon James Earl of Derwentwater, William Lord Widdrington,
William Earl of Nithisdale, Robert Earl of Carnwarth, William Viscount
Kenmure, and William Lord Nairn.
His lordship having detailed the circumstances attending their
impeachment, and having answered the argumentative matter contained in
their pleas, and urged in extenuation of their offences, proceeded to
say,--
"It is my duty to exhort your lordships to think of the aggravations as
well as the mitigations (if there be any), of your offences; and if I
could have the least hopes that the prejudices of habit and education
would not be too strong for the most earnest and charitable entreaties,
I would beg you not to rely any longer on those directors of your
consciences by whose conduct you have, very probably, been led into this
miserable condition (in allusion to their lordships being members of the
Roman Catholic church); but that your lordships would be assisted by
some of those pious and learned divines of the church of England, who
have constantly borne that infallible mark of sincere Christians,
universal charity.
"And now, my lords, nothing remains but that I pronounce upon you (and
sorry I am that it falls to my lot to do it) that terrible sentence of
the law, which must be the same that is usually given against the
meanest, offender of the like kind.
"The most ignominious and painful parts of it are usually remitted, by
the grace of the crown, to persons of your quality; but the law, in this
case, being deaf to all distinctions of persons, requires I should
pronounce, and accordingly it is adjudged by this court,
"That you, James earl of Derwentwater, William lord Widdrington, William
earl of Nithisdale, Robert earl of Carnwarth, William viscount Kenmure,
and William lord Nairn, and every of you, return to the prison of the
Tower, from whence you came; from thence you must be drawn to the place
of execution; when you come there, you must be hanged by the neck, but
not till you be dead; for you must be cut down alive; then your bowels
must be taken out, and burnt before your faces; then your heads must be
severed from your bodies, and your bodies divided each into four
quarters; and these must be at the king's disposal. And God Almighty be
merciful to your souls."
After sentence thus passed, the lords were remanded to the Tower, and on
the 18th of February orders were sent to the lieutenant of the Tower,
and the sheriffs, for their execution. Great solicitations were made in
favour of them, which not only reached the court, but the two houses of
parliament, and petitions were delivered in both, which being supported,
occasioned debates. That in the House of Commons went no farther than to
occasion a motion for adjournment, so as to prevent any farther
interposition there; but the matter in the House of Peers was carried on
with more success, where petitions were delivered and spoke to, and it
was carried by nine or ten voices that they should be received and read.
The question was also put, whether the King had power to reprieve, in
case of impeachment; and this being carried in the affirmative, a motion
was made to address his majesty to desire him to grant a reprieve to the
lords under sentence; but the movers only obtained this clause, viz.,
"To reprieve such of the condemned lords as deserved his mercy; and that
the time of the respite should be left to his majesty's discretion."
The address having been presented, his majesty replied:--
"That on this, and other occasions, he would do what he thought most
consistent with the dignity of his crown, and the safety of his people."
The great parties which had been made by the rebel lords, as was said,
by the means of money, and the rash expressions too common in the mouths
of many of their friends, as if the government did not dare to execute
them, did not a little contribute to hasten their execution; for on the
same day that the address was presented, the 23rd of February, it was
resolved in council, that the Earl of Derwentwater and the Lord Kenmure
should be beheaded on the next day; and the Earl of Nithisdale,
apprehending he should be included in the warrant, succeeded in making
his escape on the evening before, in a woman's riding-hood, supposed to
have been conveyed to him by his mother on a visit.
On the morning of the 24th of February, three detachments of the life,
guards went from Whitehall to Tower-hill, and, having taken their
stations round the scaffold, the two lords were brought from the Tower
at ten o'clock, and, being received by the sheriffs at the bar, were
conducted to the transport-office on Tower-hill. At the expiration of
about an hour, the Earl of Derwentwater sent word that he was ready; on
which sir John Fryer, one of the sheriffs, walked before him to the
scaffold, and, when there, told him he might have what time he pleased
to prepare himself for death.
His lordship desired to read a paper which he had written, the substance
of which was, that he was sorry for having pleaded guilty; that he
acknowledged no king but king James the Third, for whom he had an
inviolable affection: that the kingdom would never be happy until the
ancient constitution was restored, and he wished that his death might
contribute to that end. His lordship professed to die in the Roman
Catholic faith, and said at the end of the speech which he delivered,
that "if that Prince who then governed had given him life, he should
have thought himself obliged never more to take up arms against him." He
then read some prayers, and kneeled to see how the block would fit him;
and having told the executioner that he forgave him, as well as all his
enemies, he desired him to strike when he should repeat the words "SWEET
JESUS" the third time. He immediately proceeded to prepare himself for
the blow of the axe, and having placed his neck so that it might be
fairly struck, he said, "Sweet Jesus, receive my spirit! Sweet Jesus, be
merciful unto me! Sweet Jesus----" and was proceeding in his prayer,
when his head was severed from his body at one blow. The executioner
then took it up, and carrying it to the four corners of the scaffold,
said, "Behold the head of a traitor.--God save King George."
The body was directly wrapped in black baize, and being carried to a
coach, was delivered to the friends of the deceased: and the scaffold
having been cleared, fresh baize was put on the block, and new saw-dust
strewed, so that no blood should appear. Lord Kenmure was then conducted
to the place of execution.
His lordship was a Protestant, and was attended by two clergymen. He
declined saying much to them, however, telling one of them that he had
prudential reasons for not delivering his sentiments; which were
supposed to arise from his regard to Lord Carnwarth, who was his
brother-in-law, and who was then interceding for the royal mercy. Lord
Kenmure having finished his devotions, declared that he forgave the
executioner, to whom he made a present of eight guineas. He was attended
by a surgeon, who drew his finger over that part of the neck where the
blow was to be struck; and being executed as Lord Derwentwater had been,
his body was delivered to the care of an undertaker.
George, Earl of Winton, not having pleaded guilty with the other lords,
was brought to his trial on the 15th of March, when the principal matter
urged in his favour was that he had surrendered at Preston, in
consequence of a promise from General Wills to grant him his life: in
answer to which it was sworn that no promise of mercy was made, but that
the rebels surrendered at discretion.
The circumstances of the Earl of Winton having left his house with
fourteen or fifteen of his servants well mounted and armed, his joining
the Earl Carnwarth and Lord Kenmure, his proceeding with the rebels
through the various stages of their march, and his surrendering with the
rest, were fully proved: notwithstanding which, his counsel moved in
arrest of judgment; but the plea on which this motion was founded being
thought insufficient, his peers unanimously found him guilty. The Lord
High Steward then pronounced sentence on him, after having addressed him
in forcible terms, in the same manner as he had sentenced the other
peers.
The Earls of Winton and Nithisdale afterwards found means to escape out
of the Tower; and Messrs. Forster and M'Intosh escaped from Newgate: but
it was supposed that motives of mercy and tenderness in the Prince of
Wales, afterwards George the Second, favoured the flight of all these
gentlemen.
This rebellion occasioned the untimely death of many other persons.
Five were executed at Manchester, six at Wigan, and eleven at Preston;
but a considerable number was brought to London, and, being arraigned in
the Court of Exchequer, most of them pleaded guilty, and suffered the
utmost rigour of the law.
JAMES SHEPPARD.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
This is a very singular case of treason; for though the crime for which
Sheppard suffered was committed three years after the rebellion was
quelled, yet the same misjudged opinions urged this youth to enthusiasm
in the cause of the Pretender as those which actuated the former
offenders. It is still more singular that he, neither being a Scotchman
born, nor in any way interested in the mischiefs which he contemplated,
should, unsolicited, volunteer in so dangerous a cause.
James Sheppard was the son of Thomas Sheppard, glover, in Southwark; but
his father dying when he was about five years of age, he was sent to
school in Hertfordshire, whence his uncle, Dr. Hinchcliffe, removed him
to Salisbury, where he remained at school three years. Being at
Salisbury at the time of the rebellion, he imbibed the principles of his
school-fellows, many of whom were favourers of the Pretender; and he was
confirmed in his sentiments by reading some pamphlets which were then
put into his hands.
When he quitted Salisbury, Dr. Hinchcliffe put him apprentice to Mr.
Scott, a coach-painter in Devonshire-street, Bishopsgate; and he
continued in this situation about fourteen months, when he was
apprehended for the crime which cost him his life.
Sheppard, having conceived the idea that it would be a praiseworthy
action to kill the king, wrote a letter, which he intended for a
nonjuring minister of the name of Leake; but, mistaking the spelling, he
directed it "To the Rev. Mr. Heath." The letter was in the following
terms:--
"Sir,--From the many discontents visible throughout this kingdom, I
infer that if the prince now reigning could be by death removed, our
king being here, he might be settled on his throne without much loss of
blood. For the more ready effecting of this, I propose that, if any
gentleman will pay for my passage into Italy, and if our friends will
entrust one so young with letters of invitation to his majesty, I will,
on his arrival, smite the usurper in his palace. In this confusion, if
sufficient forces may be raised, his majesty may appear; if not, he may
retreat or conceal himself till a fitter opportunity. Neither is it
presumptuous to hope that this may succeed, if we consider how easy it
is to cut the thread of human life; how great confusion the death of a
prince occasions in the most peaceful nation; and how mutinous the
people are, how desirous of a change. But we will suppose the
worst--that I am seized, and by torture examined. Now, that this may
endanger none but myself, it will be necessary that the gentlemen who
defray my charges to Italy leave England before my departure; that I be
ignorant of his majesty's abode; that I lodge with some whig; that you
abscond; and that this be communicated to none. But, be the event as it
will, I can expect nothing less than a most cruel death; which, that I
may the better support, it will be requisite that, from my arrival till
the attempt, I every day receive the Holy Sacrament from one who shall
be ignorant of the design.
"JAMES SHEPPARD."
Having carried it to Mr. Leake's house, he called again for an answer,
but he was apprehended, and carried before Sir John Fryer, a magistrate.
When he was brought to his trial, he behaved in the most firm and
composed manner; and, after the evidence was given, and the jury had
found him guilty of high treason, he was asked why sentence should not
be passed on him according to law, when he said "He could not hope for
mercy from a prince whom he would not own." The Recorder then proceeded
to pass sentence on him; in pursuance of which, he was executed at
Tyburn on the 17th March, 1718. He was attended by a nonjuring clergyman
up to the time of his execution, between whom and the ordinary the most
indecent disputes arose, extending even up to the time of his arriving
at the scaffold, when the latter quitted the field and left the other to
instruct and pray with the malefactor as he might think proper.
THE MARQUIS DE PALEOTTI,
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS SERVANT.
This nobleman was at the head of a noble family in Italy, and was born
at Bologna. In the reign of Queen Anne he was a Colonel in the imperial
army. The Duke of Shrewsbury, being at Rome, fell in love with and paid
his addresses to the sister of the Marquis; and the lady having been
married to him in Germany, they came to England. The Marquis quitting
the army at the peace of Utrecht, visited England to see his sister; and
being fond of an extravagant course of life, and attached to gaming, he
soon ran in debt for considerable sums. His sister paid his debts for
some time, till she found it would be a burdensome and endless task; and
she therefore declined all further interference. The habits of the
Marquis, however, were in nowise changed, and being one day walking in
the street, he directed his servant, an Italian, to go and borrow some
money. The servant, having met with frequent denials, declined going: on
which the Marquis drew his sword and killed him on the spot.
He was instantly apprehended, and committed to prison; and being tried
at the next sessions, was convicted on full evidence, and received
sentence of death. The Duke of Shrewsbury being dead, and his duchess
having little interest or acquaintance in England, it appears that no
endeavours were used to save him from the punishment which awaited him,
and he was executed at Tyburn on the 17th of March, 1718.
Italian pride had taken deep root in the mind of this man. To his last
moment it was predominant. He petitioned the sheriffs that his body
should not be defiled by touching the unhappy Englishmen doomed to
suffer with him, and that he might die before them, and alone. The
sheriffs, in courtesy to a stranger, granted this request, and thus, in
his last struggle, he maintained the superiority of his rank.
JOHN PRICE.
COMMONLY CALLED JACK KETCH, EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
Although the circumstances attending the crime of this malefactor do not
present any features of general interest, the fact of the offender
having filled the office of public executioner, and of his being
deprived of life on that very scaffold on which he had exercised the
functions of his revolting office, render the case not a little
remarkable. It would appear that the prisoner was born of decent
parents, in the parish of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, London; and that
his father, who was in the service of his country having been blown up
at the demolition of Tangiers, he was put apprentice to a rag merchant.
His master dying, he ran away and went to sea, and served with credit on
board different ships in the navy, for the space of 18 years; but at
length was paid off and discharged from further service.
The office of public executioner becoming vacant, it was given to him,
and but for his extravagance, he might have long continued in it, and
subsisted on its dreadfully-earned wages. On returning from an
execution, however, he was arrested in Holborn for debt, which he
discharged, in part, with the wages he had that day earned, and the
remainder with the produce of three suits of clothes, which he had taken
from the bodies of the executed men; but soon afterwards he was lodged
in the Marshalsea prison for other debts, and there he remained for want
of bail; in consequence of which one William Marvel was appointed in his
stead. He continued some time longer in the Marshalsea, when he and a
fellow-prisoner broke a hole in the wall, through which they made their
escape. It was not long after this that Price committed the offence for
which he was executed. He was indicted on the 20th April, 1718, for the
murder of Elizabeth, the wife of William White, on the 13th of the
preceding month.
In the course of the evidence it appeared that Price met the deceased
near ten at night in Moorfields, and attempted to ravish her; but the
poor woman (who was the wife of a watchman, and sold gingerbread in the
streets) doing all in her power to resist his villanous attacks, he beat
her so cruelly that streams of blood issued from her eyes and mouth, one
of her arms was broken, some of her teeth were knocked out, her head was
bruised in a most dreadful manner, and one of her eyes was forced from
the socket. Some persons, hearing the cries of the unhappy creature,
repaired to the spot, took Price into custody, and lodged him in the
watch-house; and the woman, being attended by a surgeon and a nurse, was
unable to speak, but she answered the nurse's questions by signs, and in
that manner described what had happened to her. She died, after having
languished four days. The prisoner, on his trial, denied that he was
guilty of the murder; but he was found guilty and sentenced to death. He
then gave himself up to the use of intoxicating liquors, and continued
obstinately to deny his guilt until the day of execution. He then,
however, admitted the justice of his punishment, but said that he was in
a state of intoxication when he committed the crime for which he
suffered. He was executed on the 21st May, 1718 at Bunhill-row, and was
afterwards hung in chains at Holloway.
It maybe remarked, that this case affords a striking instance of the
absence of the effect of example: for, however much the miserable
calling of the unhappy man may have hardened his mind, and rendered him
callous to those feelings of degradation which would arise in the heart
of any ordinary person, placed in a similar situation, it cannot be
supposed that his fear of the dreadful punishment of death could have
been in any degree abated by his having so frequently witnessed its
execution in all its horrors.
BARBARA SPENCER.
STRANGLED, AND THEN BURNED, FOR COINING.
This is the first case on record, in which any person appears to have
been executed for counterfeiting the coin of the realm. The punishment
for this offence, at first, of necessity, severe, to check the alarming
prevalence of the crime, has long since been materially mitigated; and
although the evil still exists to a great degree, it has been diminished
very considerably in consequence of the judicious steps taken by the
officers of the Mint.
In the month of May, 1721, Barbara Spencer, with two other women, named
Alice Hall, and Elizabeth Bray, were indicted for high treason, in
counterfeiting the king's current coin of the realm. The evidence went
to prove the two latter prisoners to be agents only, and they were
acquitted; while Spencer appeared to be the principal, and she was found
guilty, and sentenced to be burned. It turned out that the prisoner had
before been guilty of similar offences, and the sentence was carried
into execution, although not in its direct terms. The law which then
existed was, indeed, that women, convicted of high or petit treason,
should be burned; but the wisdom and humanity of the authorities
provided a more easy death, in directing that the malefactor should be
strangled, while tied to the stake, and that the body should afterwards
be consumed by fire.
While under sentence of death, the prisoner behaved in the most indecent
and turbulent manner; nor could she be convinced that she had been
guilty of any crime in making a few shillings. She was for some time
very impatient under the idea of her approaching dissolution, and was
particularly shocked at the thought of being burned; but at the place of
execution, she seemed willing to exercise herself in devotion, but was
much interrupted by the mob throwing stones and dirt at her.
She was strangled and burned at Tyburn on the 5th of July, 1721.
WILLIAM SPIGGOT, AND THOMAS PHILLIPS.
EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.
This case is rendered worthy of notice, by the fact that, the prisoners
refusing to plead, they were placed under the torture. They were
indicted for a robbery upon the king's highway; but refused to plead
until some of their property, which had been taken from them, was
returned. This was denied them by the Court, under the provisions of the
statute of the 4th & 5th William and Mary; and as, in spite of all
entreaties, they persisted in their refusal, to deny or confess the
charge against them, the Court ordered that the judgment ordained by law
should be read to them. This was,
"That the prisoner shall be sent to the prison from whence he came, and
put into a mean room, stopped from the light, and shall there be laid on
the bare ground, without any litter, straw, or other covering, and
without any garment about him, except something to hide his privy
members. He shall lie upon his back, his head shall be covered, and his
feet shall be bare. One of his arms shall be drawn with a cord to one
side of the room, and the other arm to the other side; and his legs
shall be served in the like manner. Then there shall be laid upon his
body as much iron or stone as he can bear, and more. And the first day
after he shall have three morsels of barley bread, without any drink;
and the second day he shall be allowed to drink as much as he can, at
three times, of the water that is next the prison-door, except running
water, without any bread; and this shall be his diet till he dies; and
he against whom this judgment shall be given, forfeits his goods to the
king."
The reading of this sentence producing no effect, they were ordered back
to Newgate, there to be pressed to death; but when they came into the
press-room, Phillips begged to be taken back to plead. The favour was
granted, though it might have been denied to him; but Spiggot was put
under the press, and he continued half an hour, with three hundred and
fifty pounds' weight on his body; but, on the addition of fifty pounds
more, he also begged to plead.
They were in consequence brought back, and again arraigned; when, the
evidence being clear and positive against them, they were convicted, and
received sentence of death; in consequence of which they were executed
at Tyburn on the 8th of February, 1721.
The prisoner Phillips, after sentence, behaved in a manner which
exhibited that he was a person of the most abandoned character. His
companion was more attentive to his devotions; but Phillips declared
that he did not fear to die, for that he was sure of going to heaven. It
appeared, from the declarations of the prisoners, that they had been
very successful in their depredations; in the commission of which they
were accompanied by a clergyman named Joseph Lindsay, and a lunatic, who
had escaped from Bedlam, named Burroughs. The mad prattling of the
latter caused the apprehension of his companions, while the evidence of
the former tended materially to secure their conviction.
It is almost needless to add, that that remnant of barbarity, the
torture, has long since been abolished.
NATHANIEL HAWES.
TORTURED AND AFTERWARDS EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
The case of this prisoner may not prove uninteresting, as connected with
that last detailed.
Nathaniel Hawes was a native of Norfolk, in which county he was born in
the year 1701. His father was a grazier in good circumstances; but dying
while the son was an infant, a relation in Hertfordshire took care of
his education.
At a proper age he was apprenticed to an upholsterer in London; but,
becoming connected with people of bad character, he robbed his master
when he had served only two years of his time, for which he was tried at
the Old Bailey, and, being convicted, was sentenced to seven years'
transportation.
His sentence was, however, withdrawn on his becoming evidence against
the receiver of the stolen property. But the warning which he had
received was of no avail; and after having been once in custody for a
robbery, when he was again admitted king's evidence, he soon joined a
fellow with whom he had become acquainted in prison, and meeting a
gentleman on Finchley Common, they demanded his money, swearing to
murder him, if he did not give it to them.
The gentleman quitted his horse, and at the same moment seized the
pistol which was placed at his throat by the robber, and, presenting it
to the latter, told him to expect death if he did not surrender himself.
His companion having fled, Hawes was now as terrified as he had been
insolent, and made no opposition; and the driver of a cart coming up
just at the moment, he was easily made prisoner, conveyed to London, and
committed to Newgate. When the sessions came on, and he was brought to
the bar, he refused to plead to his indictment, alleging as a reason for
so doing, that he would die, as he had lived, like a gentleman:--"The
people," said he, "who apprehended me, seized a suit of fine clothes,
which I intended to have gone to the gallows in; and unless they are
returned, I will not plead; for no one shall say that I was hanged in a
dirty shirt and ragged coat."
On this, sentence was pronounced that he should be pressed to death;
whereupon he was taken from the Court, and, being laid on his back,
sustained a load of two hundred and fifty pounds' weight about seven
minutes; but, unable any longer to bear the pain, he entreated he might
be conducted back to the Court. He then pleaded not guilty; but the
evidence against him being conclusive, he was convicted, and sentenced
to die.
He was executed at Tyburn on the 22nd of December, 1721.
The subject of torture may not be inaptly illustrated by an account
given by Stedman of a scene witnessed by him at Surinam, when a young
man, a free negro, was tortured for the murder of the overseer of the
estate of Altona in the Para Creek. He says, "This man having stolen a
sheep to entertain a favourite young woman, the overseer, who burned
with jealousy, had determined to see him hanged; to prevent which, the
negro shot him dead among the sugar-canes. For these offences, of
course, he was sentenced to be broken alive upon the rack, without the
benefit of the _coup de grace_, or mercy-stroke. Informed of the
dreadful sentence, he composedly laid himself down upon his back on a
strong cross, on which, with his arms and legs extended, he was fastened
by ropes. The executioner, also a black man, having now with a hatchet
chopped off his left hand, next took up a heavy iron bar, with which, by
repeated blows, he broke his bones to shivers, till the marrow, blood,
and splinters flew about the field; but the prisoner never uttered a
groan nor a sigh! The ropes being next unlashed, I imagined him dead,
and felt happy; till the magistrates stirring to depart, he writhed
himself from the cross, when he fell on the grass, and damned them all
as a set of barbarous rascals. At the same time, removing his right
hand by the help of his teeth, he rested his head on part of the timber,
and asked the by-standers for a pipe of tobacco, which was infamously
answered by kicking and spitting on him, till I, with some American
seamen, thought proper to prevent it. He then begged his head might be
chopped off, but to no purpose. At last, seeing no end to his misery, he
declared, 'that though he had deserved death, he had not expected to die
so many deaths: however,' said he, 'you Christians have missed your aim
at last, and I now care not, were I to remain thus one month longer.'
After which he sung two extempore songs with a clear voice; the subjects
of which were to bid adieu to his living friends, and to acquaint his
deceased relations that in a very little time he should be with them, to
enjoy their company for ever in a better place. This done, he calmly
entered into conversation with some gentlemen concerning his trial,
relating every particular with uncommon tranquillity. 'But,' said he
abruptly, 'by the sun it must be eight o'clock, and by any longer
discourse I should be sorry to be the cause of your losing your
breakfast.' Then casting his eyes on a Jew, whose name was Deveries,
'Apropos, sir,' said he, 'won't you please to pay me the ten shillings
you owe me?' 'For what to do?' 'To buy meat and drink, to be sure: don't
you perceive I'm to be kept alive?' Which speech, on seeing the Jew
stare like a fool, the mangled wretch accompanied with a loud and hearty
laugh. Next, observing the soldier that stood sentinel over him biting
occasionally a piece of dry bread, he asked him how it came to pass that
he, a _white man_, should have no meat to eat along with it. 'Because I
am not so rich,' answered the soldier. 'Then I will make you a present,
sir,' said the negro. 'First pick my hand that was chopped off, clean to
the bones; next begin to devour my body till you are glutted; when you
will have both bread and meat, as best becomes you:' which piece of
humour was followed by a second laugh. And thus he continued until I
left him, which was about three hours after the dreadful execution."
Subsequently, on proceeding to the spot, the writer discovered that
after the poor wretch had lived thus more than six hours, he was knocked
on the head by the commiserating sentinel; and that having been raised
upon a gallows, the vultures were busy picking out the eyes of the
mangled corpse, in the skull of which was clearly discernible the mark
of the soldier's musket.
CAPTAIN JOHN MASSEY.
EXECUTED FOR PIRACY.
Captain Massey was the son of a gentleman of fortune, who gave him an
excellent education. When young, he grew weary of home; and his father
having procured him a commission in the army, he served with great
credit as lieutenant under the command of the Duke of Marlborough,
during the wars in Flanders, in the reign of Queen Anne. After this he
went with his regiment to Ireland, and at length got appointed to the
rank of lieutenant and engineer to the Royal African Company, and sailed
in one of their ships to direct the building of a fort. The ship being
ill supplied with provisions, the sufferings of the crew were
inexpressibly great. Those who lived to get on shore drank so greedily
of the fresh water, that they were thrown into fluxes, which destroyed
them so rapidly, that only Captain Massey and a very few of his people
were still alive. These, being totally unable to build a fort, and
seeing no prospect of relief, began to abandon themselves to despair;
but at this time a vessel happening to come near the shore, they made
signals of distress, on which a boat was sent off to their assistance.
They were no sooner on board than they found the vessel was a pirate;
and, distressed as they had been, they too hastily engaged in their
lawless plan, rather than run the hazard of perishing on shore. Sailing
from hence, they took several prizes; and at length on the ship reaching
Jamaica, Mr. Massey seized the first opportunity of deserting; and
repairing to the governor, he gave such information, that the crew of
the pirate vessel were taken into custody, convicted, and hanged. Massey
might have been provided for by the governor, who treated him with
singular respect, on account of his services to the public; but he
declined his generous offers, through an anxiety to visit his native
country. On his sailing for England, the governor gave him
recommendatory letters to the lords of the admiralty; but, astonishing
as it may seem, instead of his being caressed, he was taken into
custody, and committed till a session of admiralty was held for his
trial, when he pleaded guilty, and received sentence of death.
His sentence was subsequently carried out, although it may readily be
supposed that that due attention was scarcely given to the case which
the interests of the prisoner demanded.
ARUNDEL COOKE, ESQ. AND JOHN WOODBURNE.
EXECUTED FOR CUTTING AND MAIMING.
The prosecution of these offenders took place under the provisions of a
statute, passed in the reign of Charles the Second, commonly called "Sir
John Coventry's Act," the origin of which we have elsewhere described,
and which has since been followed by an enactment, more extensive in its
operation, called "Lord Ellenborough's Act."
Mr. Cooke, who by virtue of his profession as a barrister was entitled
to the rank of esquire, was born at Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, and
was a man of considerable fortune at the time of his execution.
Woodburne, his companion in crime, was a labouring man in his service,
who, having a family of six children, was induced to join in the
commission of the crime, of which he was found guilty, upon the promise
of the payment to him of 100_l._ for his aid in the diabolical plan. Mr.
Cooke, it appears, was married to the daughter of Mr. Crisp, the victim
of his attack. The latter was a gentleman of very large property, and of
infirm habit of body, and having made his will in favour of his
son-in-law, the latter became anxious to possess the estate, and
determined, by murdering the old gentleman, to secure its immediate
transfer to himself. For this purpose, he procured the co-operation of
Woodburne on the terms which we have already mentioned, and Christmas
evening of the year 1721 was fixed upon for the perpetration of the
intended murder. Mr. Crisp was to dine with his son-in-law on that day,
and Woodburne was directed to lie in wait in the churchyard, which lay
between the houses of the old gentleman and his son-in-law, behind a
tomb-stone, in the evening, when, at a given signal, he was to fall upon
and kill the former. The time arrived when Mr. Crisp was to depart, and
upon his going out, Mr. Cooke followed him, and then aided his assistant
in a most violent attack upon his father-in-law. The old man was left
for dead, but in spite of the wounds which he had received, he crawled
back to his daughter, to whom he communicated his suspicions, that her
husband was the originator of the murderous attempt which had been made.
Woodburne was impeached by his sudden disappearance; and the affair
having created a great deal of excitement in the neighbourhood, he was
followed and secured, and then he exposed the enormity of his offence,
by confessing the whole of the circumstances attending its commission.
Mr. Cooke was also taken into custody, and a bill of indictment was
preferred at the ensuing assizes, at Bury St. Edmunds, upon which the
two prisoners were tried and found guilty.
Upon their being called up to receive sentence of death, Cooke desired
to be heard: and the court complying with his request, he urged that
"judgment could not pass on the verdict, because the act of parliament
simply mentions an intention to maim or deface, whereas he was firmly
resolved to have committed murder." He quoted several law cases in
favour of the arguments he had advanced, and hoped that judgment might
be respited till the opinion of the twelve judges could be taken on the
case.
Lord Chief Justice King, however, who presided on this occasion,
declared that he could not admit the force of Mr. Cooke's plea,
consistently with his own oath as a judge: "for (said he) it would
establish a principle in the law inconsistent with the first dictates of
natural reason, as the greatest villain might, when convicted of a
smaller offence, plead that the judgment must be arrested, because he
intended to commit a greater. In the present instance therefore judgment
cannot be arrested, as the intention is naturally implied when the crime
is actually committed."
Sentence of death was then passed, and the prisoners were left for
execution. After condemnation, the unhappy man Woodburne exhibited signs
of the most sincere penitence; but his wretched tempter to crime
conducted himself with unbecoming reserve and moroseness, steadily
denying his guilt, and employing his most strenuous exertions to procure
a pardon.
The 3d April, 1722, was at length fixed for the execution of the
sentence, and Cook was hanged at four in the morning of that day, in
obedience to a request which he made, in order that he should not be
exposed to the public gaze; while Woodburne was turned off, in the
afternoon, on the same gallows. The execution took place at Bury St.
Edmunds, the crime having been committed within a mile of that place.
CHRISTOPHER LAYER, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
Mr. Layer was a barrister of considerable standing and reputation, at
the time when he was convicted and executed on a charge of being the
projector of a scheme for the destruction of the king, and the
subversion of the government, which had for its object the elevation of
the Pretender to the throne of England.
Numerous were the plots which had been laid for the same purpose, and
frequent were the proceedings which had been had upon complaints laid
before the various courts of criminal justice in the kingdom, since the
year 1715, when the rebellion first broke out; but the plan laid by Mr.
Layer was one of those which gained the greatest degree of notoriety.
This infatuated man had received a liberal education, and was a member
of the society of the Inner Temple; but being impressed with the
possibility of the success of a scheme for the dethronement of the
existing monarch, and the elevation of the Pretender to the rank, to
which it was contended that he was entitled, he made a journey to Rome,
in order to confer with that prince upon the propriety of putting his
design into execution, promising that he would effect so secret a
revolution in England, that no person in authority should be apprised of
the scheme until it had been actually completed. Having procured the
concurrence of the prince, he instantly returned to London, and
proceeded to the completion of his preparations His plan was to hire an
assassin to murder the king on his return from Kensington; and, this
being done, the other parties engaged in the plot were to seize the
guards; and the Prince of Wales and his children, and the great officers
of state, were to be secured, and confined during the confusion that
such an event would naturally produce.
Mr. Layer having settled a correspondence with several Roman Catholics,
non-jurors, and other persons disaffected to the government, he engaged
a small number of disbanded soldiers, who were to be the principal
actors in the intended tragedy. A meeting of the whole of the partisans
having, however, been held at Stratford, they talked so loudly of the
plot, that their designs were suspected, and information was conveyed to
the authorities; upon which Mr. Layer was taken into custody, under a
secretary of state's warrant, and conveyed to the house of a king's
messenger for security. His chambers being searched, papers were found,
the contents of which sufficiently indicated his intentions, and
witnesses as to repeated declarations on his part, in reference to the
rebellion, having been discovered in the persons of two women, who were
living under his protection, it was determined that a prosecution should
be instantly commenced against him. But it was not until he had nearly
given his jailers the slip, that this determination was carried into
execution with effect; for it appears that the prisoner became convinced
of the practicability of an escape from the room where he was confined,
through an ale-house, which was situated at the back of the messenger's
house, and resolved to make the attempt to procure his liberty. He
therefore formed a rope of his blanket, and, dropping from the window of
his apartment, he fell into the yard below, unscathed; but in his
descent, he overset a bottle-rack, and from the noise which was caused,
the family of the house was disturbed. Mr. Layer managed, nevertheless,
to gain the street in the confusion which prevailed; but being instantly
pursued by officers, he was traced to have taken a boat at the Horse
Ferry, Westminster, from thence to St. George's Fields; and he was at
length overtaken at Newington Butts. On the following day he was
committed to Newgate; and a Grand Jury of the county of Essex having
found a true bill against him for high treason, his trial came on before
Chief Justice Pratt, and the other judges of the Court of King's Bench,
in the month of January 1723, when, after an inquiry, which lasted
sixteen hours, he was found guilty, and sentenced to death in the
customary manner.
As he had some important affairs to settle, from the nature of his
profession, the court did not order his execution till more than two
months after he had been condemned; and the king repeatedly reprieved
him, to prevent his clients being sufferers by his affairs being left in
a state of confusion.
After conviction, Mr. Layer was committed to the Tower; and at length
the sheriffs of London and Middlesex received a warrant to execute the
sentence of the law. He was carried to Tyburn on a sledge, on the 15th
March 1723, to be hanged, being dressed in a suit of black, full
trimmed, and wearing a tie-wig. At the place of execution he was
assisted in his devotions by a nonjuring clergyman; and when these were
ended, he spoke to the surrounding multitude, declaring that he deemed
King James (so he called the Pretender) his lawful sovereign. He said
that King George was a usurper, and that damnation would be the fate of
those who supported his government. He insisted that the nation would
never be in a state of peace till the Pretender was restored, and
therefore advised the people to take up arms in his behalf. He professed
himself willing to die for the cause, and expressed great hopes that
Providence would eventually support the right heir to the throne. His
body having been suspended during the accustomed time, it was quartered,
and the head was afterwards exposed on Temple Bar. Among others
concerned in this strange scheme was Lord Grey, an ancient nobleman of
the Roman Catholic religion, who died a prisoner in the Tower, before
the necessary legal proceedings against him could take place.
PHILIP ROACH,
EXECUTED FOR PIRACY AND MURDER.
This fellow was a native of Ireland, and having, during his youth,
followed a seafaring life, he was advanced to the position of first
mate, on board a West-Indiaman, which sailed to and from Barbadoes.
Having, however, become acquainted with a fisherman named Neale, who
hinted to him that large sums of money might be acquired by insuring
ships, and then causing them to be sunk, to defraud the insurers, he was
wicked enough to listen to this horrid idea; and, being recommended to a
gentleman who had a ship bound to Cape Breton, he got a station on
board, next in command to the captain, by whom he was entrusted with the
management of the vessel.
On the voyage, it would appear that he would have abstained from
carrying out his diabolical plan; but having brought some Irishmen on
board with him, they persisted in pursuing their original design, or in
demanding that the vessel should be seized. Accordingly, one night, when
the captain and most of the crew were asleep, Roach gave orders to two
of the seamen to furl the sails; which being immediately done, the poor
fellows no sooner descended on the deck, than Roach and his associates
murdered them, and threw them overboard. At this instant a man and a boy
at the yard-arm, observing what passed, and dreading a similar fate,
hurried towards the topmast-head, when one of the Irishmen, named
Cullen, followed them, and, seizing the boy, threw him into the sea. The
man, thinking to effect at least a present escape, descended to the
main-deck; but he was instantly butchered, and committed to the deep.
The noise occasioned by these transactions had alarmed the sailors
below, and they hurried up with all possible expedition; but were
severally seized and murdered as fast as they came on deck, and were
thrown into the sea. At length the master and mate came on the
quarter-deck; but they were doomed to share the same fate as their
unhappy shipmates.
These execrable murders being perpetrated, the murderers determined to
commence pirates, and that Roach should be the captain, as the reward of
his superior villany.
They had intended to sail up the Gulf of St. Lawrence; but as they were
within a few days' voyage of the Bristol Channel, when the bloody
tragedy was acted, and found themselves short of provisions, they put
into Portsmouth; and, giving the vessel a fictitious name, they painted
her afresh, and then sailed for Rotterdam. At this city they disposed of
their cargo, and took in a fresh one; and being unknown, an English
gentleman, named Annesley, shipped considerable property on board, and
took his passage with them for the port of London; but the villains
threw this unfortunate gentleman overboard, after they had been only one
day at sea. When the ship arrived in the river Thames, Mr. Annesley's
friends made inquiry after him, in consequence of his having sent
letters to England, describing the ship in which he proposed to embark;
but Roach denied any knowledge of the gentleman, and even disclaimed his
own name. Notwithstanding his confident assertions, it was rightly
presumed who he was, and a letter which he sent to his wife being
stopped, he was taken into custody, and carried before the secretary of
state for examination. While there, having denied that he was the person
he was taken to be, his intercepted letter was shown to him; on which he
instantly confessed his crimes, and was committed to take his trial. He
was subsequently hanged at Execution Dock, on the 5th of August, 1723.
JOSEPH BLAKE, _alias_ BLUESKIN,
EXECUTED FOR HOUSEBREAKING.
At about this time London and its vicinity were infested by a gang of
villains of the most desperate character, of whom this criminal was the
captain. With his name are associated those of offenders whose exploits,
though they may be better known, were not more daring or more villanous.
The notorious Jonathan Wild, whose system of atrocity will be found to
be exposed in the notice given hereafter of his life and death, and his
no less notorious victim and coadjutor, Jack Sheppard, were both
intimately connected with the proceedings of Blake; while others of
equal celebrity filled up the number of his followers. The Mint in
Southwark was, during the early part of the life of these offenders, a
place which, being by a species of charter freed from the intrusion of
the bailiffs, formed an admirable hiding-place and retreat for
criminals, as well as debtors. A system of watch and ward was maintained
among them, and, like the Alsatia of Sir Walter Scott's admirable novel
of "The Fortunes of Nigel," which is now known by the name of
Whitefriars, its privacy was seldom intruded upon by the appearance of
the officers of justice. The salutary laws of the commencement of the
reign of the Hanover family, however, soon caused these dens of infamy
to be rooted out; and the districts referred to are now known only by
repute, as having been privileged in the manner which has been
described.
To return to the subject of our present narrative: he was a native of
London, and having been sent to school at the age of six years, he
displayed more intelligence in acquiring a proficiency in the various
arts of roguery, than in becoming acquainted with those points of decent
instruction, with which his parents desired he should make himself
intimate. While at school, he formed an acquaintance with a lad of his
own age, named Blewitt, who afterwards, with himself, became a member of
Jonathan Wild's gang. No sooner had they left school, than they started
in life as pickpockets; and our hero, before he attained the age of
fifteen years, had been in half the prisons in the metropolis. From this
they turned street robbers; and forming connexions with others, their
proceedings became notorious, and they were apprehended. Blake, however,
was admitted evidence against his companions, who were convicted; and
having by that means obtained his own acquittal, he claimed a part of
the reward offered by government. He was informed by the Court, that his
demand could not be granted, because he was not a voluntary evidence;
since, so far from having surrendered, he had made an obstinate
resistance, and was much wounded before he was taken; and instead of
rewarding him, they ordered him to find security for his good behaviour,
or to be transported. Not being able to give the requisite bail, he was
lodged in Wood-street Compter, and there he remained for a considerable
period; during which his patron, Wild, allowed him three and sixpence
per week. At length he prevailed upon two gardeners to enter into the
necessary sureties; and their recognisance having been taken by Sir John
Fryer, for his good behaviour, for seven years, he once more regained
his liberty. This object was, however, no sooner attained, than he was
concerned in several robberies with Jack Sheppard; and they at length
committed that offence for which Blueskin was executed. We have already
said that he had become notorious for the daring which he displayed, and
the frequency of his attacks upon the property of others; and he had
become no less celebrated among his companions, who had favoured him
with the appellation of Blueskin, from the darkness of his complexion,
and had besides honoured him by dubbing him captain.
At the October sessions of the Old Bailey, 1723, he was indicted under
the name of Joseph Blake, _alias_ Blueskin, for breaking and entering
the dwelling-house of William Kneebone, in St. Clement's Church-yard,
and stealing one hundred and eight yards of woollen cloth, value
thirty-six pounds, and other property. It was sworn by the prosecutor,
that the entry was effected by cutting the bars of his cellar-window,
and by subsequently breaking open the cellar-door, which had been bolted
and padlocked; and that afterwards, on his going to Jonathan Wild, and
acquainting him with what had occured, he was conducted to Blake's
lodgings, for the purpose of procuring his apprehension. The prisoner
refusing to open the door, Quilt Arnold, one of Wild's men, broke it
open. On this Blake drew a penknife, and swore that he would kill the
first man that entered; in answer to which Arnold said, "Then I am the
first man, and Mr. Wild is not far behind; and if you don't deliver
your penknife immediately, I will chop your arm off." Hereupon the
prisoner dropped the knife; and Wild entering, he was taken into
custody.
It further appeared, that as the parties were conveying Blake to
Newgate, they came by the house of the prosecutor; on which Wild said to
the prisoner, "There's the ken;" and the latter replied, "Say no more of
that, Mr. Wild, for I know I am a dead man; but what I fear is, that I
shall afterwards be carried to Surgeons' Hall, and anatomised;" to which
Wild replied, "No, I'll take care to prevent that, for I'll give you a
coffin." William Field, an accomplice, who was evidence on the trial,
swore that the robbery was committed by Blake, Sheppard, and himself;
and the jury brought in a verdict of guilty.
As soon as the verdict was given, Blake addressed the Court in the
following terms:--"On Wednesday morning last," Jonathan Wild said to
Simon Jacobs (then a prisoner), "I believe you will not bring forty
pounds this time (alluding to the reward paid by Government); I wish Joe
(meaning me) was in your case; but I'll do my endeavour to bring you off
as a single felon." And then turning to me, he said, "I believe you must
die--I'll send you a good book or two, and provide you a coffin, and you
shall not be anatomised."
The prisoner having been convicted, it was impossible that this
revelation of the circumstances, under which he was impeached could be
noticed; but subsequent discoveries distinctly showed that Wild's system
was precisely that which was pointed out; namely, to lead on those who
chose to submit themselves to his guidance, to the full extent to which
they could go, so as to be useful to him; and then to deliver them over
to justice for the offences in which he had been the prime mover,
securing to himself the reward payable upon their conviction. His
position screened him from punishment, while his power ensured the
sacrifice of the victims, who had so long been his slaves. It appears
that Wild was near meeting his end in this case. He was to have given
evidence against Blake, but going to visit him in the bail-dock,
previous to his trial, the latter suddenly drew a clasped penknife, with
which he cut Jonathan's throat. The knife was blunt, and the wound,
though dangerous, did not prove mortal; but the informer was prevented
from giving the evidence which had been expected from him. While under
sentence of death, Blake did not show a concern proportioned to his
calamitous situation. When asked if he was advised to commit the
violence on Wild, he said No; but that a sudden thought entered his
mind: had it been premeditated, he would have provided a knife, which
would have cut off his head at once. On the nearer approach of death he
appeared still less concerned; and it was thought that his mind was
chiefly bent on meditating means of escaping: but seeing no prospect of
getting away, he took to drinking, which he continued to the day of his
death; and he was observed to be intoxicated, even while he was under
the gallows.
He was executed at Tyburn on the 11th of November, 1723.
JOHN SHEPPARD.
EXECUTED FOR HOUSE-BREAKING.
The prisoner, whose name heads this article, was a companion and fellow
in crime to the notorious Blueskin. The name of Jack Sheppard is one
which needs no introduction. His exploits are so notorious, that nothing
more is necessary than to recount them. Sheppard was born in
Spitalfields, in the year 1702; his father was a carpenter and bore the
character of an honest man; but dying when his son was yet young, he, as
well as a younger brother, Tom Sheppard, soon became remarkable for
their disregard for honesty. Our hero was apprenticed to a carpenter in
Wych-street, like his father, and during the first four years of his
service he behaved with comparative respectability; but frequenting a
public-house, called the Black Lion, in Drury Lane, he became acquainted
with Blueskin, his subsequent companion in wickedness, and Wild, his
betrayer, as well as with some women of abandoned character, who
afterwards also became his coadjutors. His attentions were more
particularly directed to one of them, named Elizabeth Lion, or Edgeworth
Bess, as she was familiarly called from the town in which she was born,
and while connected with her he frequently committed robberies at the
various houses, in which he was employed as a workman. He was, however,
also acquainted with a woman named Maggott, who persuaded him to commit
his first robbery in the house of Mr. Bains, a piece-broker, in White
Horse Yard, Drury Lane. He was at this time still resident at his
master's house; and having stolen a piece of fustian, he took it home to
his trunk, and then returning to the house which he was robbing, he took
the bars out of the cellar-window, entered, and stole goods and money to
the amount of 22_l._ which he carried to Maggott. As Sheppard did not go
home that night, nor on the following day, his master suspected that he
had made bad connexions, and searching his trunk found the piece of
fustian that had been stolen; but Sheppard, hearing of this, broke open
his master's house in the night, and carried off the fustian, lest it
should be brought in evidence against him.
This matter received no further attention; but Sheppard's master seemed
desirous still to favour him, and he remained some time longer in the
family; but after associating himself with the worst of company, and
frequently staying out the whole night, his master and he quarrelled,
and the headstrong youth totally absconded in the last year of his
apprenticeship.
Jack now worked as a journeyman carpenter, with a view to the easier
commission of robbery; and being employed to assist in repairing the
house of a gentleman in May Fair, he took an opportunity of carrying off
a sum of money, a quantity of plate, some gold rings, and four suits of
clothes. Not long after this Edgeworth Bess was apprehended, and lodged
in the round-house of the parish of St. Giles's, where Sheppard went to
visit her; but the beadle refusing to admit him, he knocked him down,
broke open the door, and carried her off in triumph; an exploit which
acquired him a high degree of credit among his companions. Tom Sheppard
being now as deep in crime as his brother, he prevailed on Jack to lend
him forty shillings, and take him as a partner in his robberies. The
first act they committed in concert was the robbing of a public-house in
Southwark, whence they carried off some money and wearing apparel; but
Jack permitted his brother to reap the whole advantage of this booty.
Not long after this, in conjunction with Edgeworth Bess, they broke open
the shop of Mrs. Cook, a linen-draper in Clare Market, and carried off
goods to the value of 55_l._; and in less than a fortnight afterwards,
they stole some articles from the house of Mr. Phillips in Drury Lane.
Tom Sheppard going to sell some of the goods stolen at Mrs. Cook's, was
apprehended, and committed to Newgate, when, in the hope of being
admitted an evidence, he impeached his brother and Bess; but they were
sought for in vain.
At length James Sykes, otherwise called Hell-and-Fury, one of Sheppard's
companions, meeting with him in St. Giles's, enticed him into a
public-house, in the hope of receiving a reward for apprehending him;
and while they were drinking Sykes sent for a constable, who took Jack
into custody, and carried him before a magistrate. After a short
examination, he was sent to St. Giles's round-house; but he broke
through the roof of that place and made his escape in the night.
Within a short time after this, as Sheppard and an associate, named
Benson, were crossing Leicester Fields, the latter endeavoured to pick a
gentleman's pocket of his watch; but failing in the attempt, the
gentleman called out "A pickpocket!" on which Sheppard was taken, and
lodged in St. Ann's round-house, where he was visited by Edgeworth Bess,
who was detained on suspicion of being one of his accomplices. On the
following day they were carried before a magistrate, and some persons
appearing who charged them with felonies, they were committed to the New
Prison; but as they passed for husband and wife, they were permitted to
lodge together in a room known by the name of the Newgate ward. They
were here visited by many of their friends, Blueskin among the number;
and being provided by them with the implements necessary to enable them
to escape, Jack proceeded to secure the object which he had in view with
that alacrity and energy which always characterised his actions. The
removal of his fetters by means of a file was a work which occupied him
a very few minutes, and he then, with the assistance of his companion,
prepared for flight. The first obstacle which presented itself to them
was in the shape of the heavy cross-bars which defended the aperture, by
which light and air were admitted to their cell; but the application of
their file soon removed the difficulty. There was then another point of
a more dangerous character to overcome--the descent to the yard. Their
window was twenty-five feet in height, and the only means of reaching
the earth was by the employment of their blankets as ropes. These,
however, would not enable them to touch the ground; but they found that
there was a considerable distance for them to drop, even after they
should have arrived at the extreme end of their cord. Gallantry induced
our hero to give the first place to Bess, and she, having stripped off a
portion of her clothes, so as to render herself lighter, descended in
perfect safety. Jack followed, and they found some consolation in their
being at least without the gaol, although there were yet the walls of
the yard to climb. These were topped with a strong _chevaux de frise_ of
iron, and were besides twenty-two feet high; but passing round them
until they came to the great gates, the adventurous pair found means by
the locks and bolts, by which they were held together, to surmount
this, apparently the greatest difficulty of all, and they once again
stood on the open ground outside the gaol. Bess having now re-assumed
the clothes, of which she had denuded herself, in order that she might
be the more agile in her escape, and which she had taken the precaution
to throw over the wall before her, she and her paramour, once more
enjoying the free air of liberty, marched into town.
It may readily be supposed that our hero's fame was increased by the
report of this exploit, and all the thieves of St. Giles's soon became
anxious to become his "palls." He did not hesitate to accept the
companionship of two of them, named Grace, a cooper, and Lamb, an
apprentice to a mathematical instrument maker; and at the instigation of
the latter they committed a robbery in the house of his master, near St.
Clement's church, to a considerable amount. The apprentice, however, was
suspected, and secured, and being convicted, received sentence of
transportation. Our hero meanwhile escaped, and joining with Blueskin,
they did not fail in obtaining considerable booty. The mode of disposing
of the plunder which they adopted was that of employing a fellow named
Field to procure them a market; and having committed the robbery at
Kneebone's, already mentioned in Blake's memoir, they lodged its
proceeds in a stable, which they had hired, near the Horse Ferry,
Westminster. Field was applied to, to find a customer for the property,
and he promised to do so, and was as good as his word; for breaking open
the stable, he carried off the goods himself, and then conveyed
information of the robbery to Wild, alleging that he had been concerned
in it. Blueskin, it will have been seen, was tried and convicted for the
robbery, and suffered execution; and Sheppard having also been secured,
he too was sentenced to death.
On Monday, 30th August, 1724, a warrant was sent for his execution,
together with that of some other convicts, but neither his ingenuity nor
his courage forsook him upon this, any more than upon any previous
occasion. In the gaol of Newgate there was a hatch within the lodge in
which the gaolers sat, which opened into a dark passage, from which
there were a few steps leading to the hold containing the condemned
cells. It was customary for the prisoners, on their friends coming to
see them, to be conducted to this hatch; but any very close
communication was prevented by the _surveillance_ of the gaolers, and by
large iron spikes which surmounted the gate. The visits of Edgeworth
Bess to her paramour were not unattended with advantage to the latter,
for while in conversation, she took the opportunity of diverting the
attention of the gaoler from her, while she delivered the necessary
instruments to Sheppard to assist him in his contemplated escape.
Subsequent visits enabled Jack to approach the wicket; and by constant
filing he succeeded in placing one of the spikes in such a position as
that it could be easily wrenched off. On the evening on which the
warrant for his execution arrived, Mrs. Maggott, who was an immensely
powerful woman, and Bess, going to visit him, he broke off the spike
while the keepers were employed in drinking in the lodge, and thrusting
his head and shoulders through the aperture, the women pulled him down,
and smuggled him through the outer room, in which the gaolers were
indulging themselves, into the street. This second escape not a little
increased his notoriety; but an instant pursuit being made, he was
compelled to lie close. Consulting with one Page, a butcher, it was
determined that they should go to Warnden, in Northamptonshire,
together where the relations of the latter lived; but on arriving
there, being treated with indifference, they immediately retraced their
steps to London.
On the night after their return, they were walking through Fleet-street,
when they saw a watchmaker's shop attended only by a boy, and having
passed it, they turned back, and Sheppard, driving his hand through the
window, stole three watches, with which they made their escape. They
subsequently retired to Finchley for security; but the gaolers of
Newgate gaining information of their retreat, took Sheppard into
custody, and once more conveyed him to "The Stone Jug."
Such steps were now taken as it was thought would be effectual to
prevent his future escape. He was put into a strong room, called the
Castle, handcuffed, loaded with a heavy pair of irons, and chained to a
staple fixed in the floor. The curiosity of the public being greatly
excited by his former escape, he was visited by great numbers of people
of all ranks, and scarce any one left him without making him a present
in money. Although he did not disdain these substantial proofs of public
generosity, which enabled him to obtain those luxuries, which were not
provided by the city authorities for his prison fare, his thoughts were
constantly fixed on the means of again eluding his keepers; and the
opportunity was not long wanting when he might carry his design into
execution.
On the fourteenth of October, the sessions began at the Old Bailey, and
the keepers being much engaged in attending the Court, he thought
rightly, that they would have little time to visit him, and, therefore,
that, the present juncture would be the most favourable to carry his
plan into execution. About two o'clock in the afternoon of the following
day, one of the keepers carried him his dinner; and having carefully
examined his irons, and found them fast, he left him. Sheppard now
immediately proceeded to the completion of the great work of his life,
his second escape from Newgate; in describing which we shall extract
from Mr. Ainsworth's work of "Jack Sheppard," in which that gentleman
has given a lasting fame to our hero, and has founded a most interesting
romance on the real circumstances of the life of this daring and
extraordinary offender. He says, "Jack Sheppard's first object was to
free himself from his handcuffs. This he accomplished by holding the
chain that connected them firmly between his teeth, and, squeezing his
fingers as closely together as possible, he succeeded in drawing his
wrists through the manacles. He next twisted the heavy gyves round and
round, and partly by main strength, partly by a dexterous and
well-applied jerk, snapped asunder the central link, by which they were
attached to the padlock. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the
basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken
chains to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his
future exertions." Upon a former attempt to make his way up the chimney,
he had been impeded by an iron bar which was fixed across it, at a
height of a few feet. To remove this obstacle, it was necessary to make
an extensive breach in the wall. With the broken links of the chain,
which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced
operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a
hole in the plaster. He found the wall, as he suspected, solidly
constructed of brick and stone; and, with the slight and inadequate
tools which he possessed, it was a work of infinite skill and labour to
get out a single brick. That done, however, he was well aware the rest
would be comparatively easy; and as he threw the brick to the ground,
he exclaimed triumphantly, "The first step is taken--the main difficulty
is overcome."
"Animated by this trifling success, he proceeded with fresh ardour, and
the rapidity of his progress was proclaimed by the heap of bricks,
stones, and mortar, which before long covered the floor. At the
expiration of an hour, by dint of unremitting exertion, he made so large
a breach in the chimney that he could stand upright in it. He was now
within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, he
speedily worked his way to it. Regardless of the risk he ran by some
heavy stones dropping on his head or feet,--regardless also of the noise
made by the falling rubbish, and of the imminent risk to which he was
consequently exposed of being interrupted by some of the gaolers, should
the sound reach their ears, he continued to pull down large masses of
the wall, which he flung upon the floor of the cell. Having worked thus
for another quarter of an hour, without being sensible of fatigue,
though he was half stifled by the clouds of dust which his exertions
raised, he had made a hole about three feet wide and six high, and
uncovered the iron bar. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly
wrenched it from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the
ground. On examination it proved to be a flat bar of iron, nearly a yard
in length, and more than an inch square. 'A capital instrument for my
purpose,' thought Jack, shouldering it, 'and worth all the trouble I
have had in procuring it.' While he was thus musing, he thought he heard
the lock tried. A chill ran through his frame, and grasping the heavy
weapon, with which chance had provided him, he prepared to strike down
the first person who should enter his cell. After listening attentively
for a short time without drawing breath, he became convinced that his
apprehensions were groundless, and, greatly relieved, sat down upon the
chair to rest himself and prepare for future efforts.
"Acquainted with every part of the gaol, Jack well knew that his only
chance of effecting an escape must be by the roof. To reach it would be
a most difficult undertaking. Still it was possible, and the difficulty
was only a fresh incitement. The mere enumeration of the obstacles which
existed would have deterred any spirit less daring than Sheppard's from
even hazarding the attempt. Independently of other risks, and the chance
of breaking his neck in the descent, he was aware that to reach the
leads he should have to break open six of the strongest doors of the
prison. Armed, however, with the implement he had so fortunately
obtained, he did not despair of success. 'My name will not only be
remembered as that of a robber,' he mused, 'but it shall be remembered
as that of a bold one; and this night's achievement, if it does nothing
else, shall prevent me from being classed with the common herd of
depredators.' Roused by this reflection, he grasped the iron bar, which,
when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across
the room. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks
and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a
cart-load, and reaching up nearly to the chimney-piece; and having once
more got into the chimney, he climbed to a level with the ward above,
and recommenced operations as vigorously as before. He was now aided
with a powerful implement, with which he soon contrived to make a hole
in the wall.
"The ward which Jack was endeavouring to break was called the Red-room
from the circumstance of its walls having once been painted in that
colour: all traces of which, however, had long since disappeared. Like
the Castle, which it resembled in all respects, except that it was
destitute even of a barrack bedstead, the Red-room was reserved for
state prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the
gaol was crowded by the Preston rebels. Having made a hole in the wall
sufficiently large to pass through, Jack first tossed the bar into the
room and then crept after it. As soon as he had gained his feet, he
glanced round the bare black walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the
misty close atmosphere, exclaimed, 'I will let a little fresh air into
this dungeon: they say it has not been opened for eight years, but I
won't be eight minutes in getting out.' In stepping across the room,
some sharp point in the floor pierced his foot, and stooping to examine
it, he found that the wound had been inflicted by a long rusty nail,
which projected from the boards. Totally disregarding the pain, he
picked up the nail, and reserved it for future use. Nor was he long in
making it available. On examining the door, he found it secured by a
large rusty lock, which he endeavoured to pick with the nail he had just
acquired: but all his efforts proving ineffectual, he removed the plate
that covered it with the bar, and with his fingers contrived to draw
back the bolt.
"Opening the door, he then stepped into a dark narrow passage, leading,
as he was well aware, to the Chapel. On the left there were doors
communicating with the King's Bench Ward, and the Stone Ward, two large
holds on the master debtors' side. But Jack was too well versed in the
geography of the place to attempt either of them. Indeed, if he had been
ignorant of it, the sound of voices, which he could faintly distinguish,
would have served as a caution to him. Hurrying on, his progress was
soon checked by a strong door, several inches in thickness and nearly as
wide as the passage. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the
lock, he perceived, to his dismay, that it was fastened on the other
side. After several vain attempts to burst it open, he resolved, as a
last alternative, to break through the wall in the part nearest the
lock. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated. The wall
was of considerable thickness, and built altogether of stone; and the
noise he was compelled to make in using the heavy bar, which brought
sparks with every splinter he struck off, was so great, that he feared
it must be heard by the prisoners on the debtors' side. Heedless,
however, of the consequences, he pursued his task. Half an hour's
labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain
breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his
arm up to the elbow. In this way he was able to force back a ponderous
bolt from its socket; and to his unspeakable delight, found that the
door instantly yielded. Once more cheered by daylight, he hastened
forward and entered the Chapel.
"Situated at the upper part of the south-east angle of the gaol, the
Chapel of Old Newgate was divided on the north side into three grated
compartments, or pens, as they were termed, allotted to the common
debtors and felons. In the north-west angle there was a small pen for
female offenders; and on the south, a more commodious inclosure
appropriated to the master debtors and strangers. Immediately beneath
the pulpit stood a large circular pen, where malefactors under sentence
of death sat to hear the condemned sermon delivered to them, and where
they formed a public spectacle to the crowds which curiosity generally
attracted on those occasions. To return, Jack had got into one of the
pens at the north side of the chapel. The inclosure by which it was
surrounded was about twelve feet high; the under part being composed of
oaken planks, the upper part of a strong iron grating, surmounted by
sharp iron spikes. In the middle there was a gate: it was locked. But
Jack speedily burst it open with the iron bar. Clearing the few
impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had
once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured
to snatch a moment's repose. It was denied him, for as he closed his
eyes--though but for an instant--the whole scene of his former visit to
the place rose before him. There he sat as before, with the heavy
fetters on his limbs, and beside him sat his three companions who had
since expiated their offences on the gibbet. The chapel was again
crowded with visitors, and every eye fixed upon him. So perfect was the
illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the
Ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to
prepare for eternity. From this perturbed state he was roused by the
thoughts of his present position, and fancying he heard approaching
voices, he started up. On one side of the chapel there was a large
grated window, but, as it looked upon the interior of the gaol, Jack
preferred following the course he had originally decided upon, to making
any attempt in this quarter. Accordingly he proceeded to a gate which
stood upon the south, and guarded the passage communicating with the
leads. It was grated, and crested with spikes, like that he had just
burst open; and thinking it a needless waste of time to force it, he
broke off one of the spikes, which he carried with him for further
purposes, and then climbed over it. A short flight of steps brought him
to a dark passage, into which he plunged. Here he found another strong
door, making the fifth he had encountered. Well aware that the doors in
this passage were much stronger than those in the entry he had just
quitted, he was neither surprised nor dismayed to find it fastened by a
lock of unusual size. After repeatedly trying to remove the plate, which
was so firmly screwed down that it resisted all his efforts, and vainly
attempting to pick it with his spike and nail, he at length, after half
an hour's ineffectual labour, wrenched off the box by means of the iron
bar, and the door, as he laughingly expressed it, 'was his humble
servant.'
"But this difficulty was only overcome to be succeeded by one still
greater. Hastening along the passage, he came to the sixth door. For
this he was prepared: but he was not prepared for the almost
insurmountable difficulties which it presented. Running his hand hastily
over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and
bars. It seemed as if all the precautions previously taken were here
accumulated. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned
the attempt from the conviction of its utter hopelessness; but though it
might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. Once again
he passed his hand over the surface, and carefully noted all the
obstacles. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly
plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. Below it a
prodigiously large bolt was shot into the socket, and, in order to keep
it there, was fastened by a hasp, and further protected by an immense
padlock. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars,
clenched by broad-headed nails. An iron fillet secured the socket of the
bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the door-way. Nothing
disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he
attacked with all his implements;--now attempting to pick it with the
nail;--now to wrench it off with the bar, but all without effect. He not
only failed in making any impression but seemed to increase the
difficulties, for after an hour's toil he had broken the nail, and
slightly bent the iron bar. Completely overcome by fatigue, with
strained muscles and bruised hands, streaming with perspiration, and
with lips so parched that he would gladly have parted with a treasure if
he had possessed it for a draught of water, he sunk against the wall,
and while in this state was seized with a sudden and strange alarm. He
fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight, and were in pursuit
of him--that they had climbed up the chimney--entered the
bed-rooms--tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by
the gate, which he had left unbroken in the chapel. So strongly was he
impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands he
dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the
blows. By degrees his fears vanished, and, hearing nothing, he grew
calmer. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that
the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set
himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. On
reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen
the iron fillet--a notion no sooner conceived than executed. With
incredible labour, and by the aid of both spike and nail, he succeeded
in getting the point of the bar beneath the fillet. Exerting all his
energies, and using the bar as a lever, he forced off the iron band,
which was full seven feet high, seven inches wide, and two inches thick,
and which brought with it, in its fall, the box of the lock, and the
socket of the bolt, leaving no further hindrance. Overjoyed beyond
measure at having vanquished this apparently insurmountable obstacle,
Jack darted through the door.
"Ascending a short flight of steps, Jack found at the summit a door,
which, being bolted on the inside, he speedily opened. The fresh air,
which blew in his face, greatly revived him. He had now reached what
were called the Lower Leads--a flat, covering a part of the prison
contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about
fourteen feet high. On the north stood the battlements of one of the
towers of the gate. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by
a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. This
door was crested with spikes, and guarded on the right by a bristling
semi-circle of similar weapons. Hastily ascending the steps, Jack found
the door, as he anticipated, locked. He could have easily forced it, but
he preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which
suggested itself to him. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed
his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. Just as he got
on the roof of the prison, St. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. It was
instantly answered by the deep note of St. Paul's; and the concert was
prolonged by other neighbouring churches. Jack had been thus six hours
in accomplishing his arduous task.
"Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to
discern surrounding objects. Through the gloom he distinctly perceived
the dome of St. Paul's, hanging like a black cloud in the air; and,
nearer to him, he remarked the golden ball on the summit of the College
of Physicians, compared by Garth to a 'gilded pill.' Other towers and
spires;--St. Martin's, on Ludgate-hill, and Christ Church, in
Newgate-street, were also distinguishable. As he gazed down into the
courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step
might precipitate him below. To prevent the recurrence of any such
escape as that just described, it was deemed expedient, in more recent
times, to keep a watchman at the top of Newgate. Not many years ago, two
men employed in this duty quarrelled during the night, and in the
morning their bodies were found stretched upon the pavement of the yard
below. Proceeding along the wall, Jack reached the southern tower, over
the battlements of which he clambered, and crossing it, dropped upon the
roof of the gate. He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to
the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur-street.
Arrived at the extremity of the building, he found that it overlooked
the flat roof of a house, which, as far as he could judge in the
darkness, lay at a depth of about twenty feet below.
"Not choosing to hazard so great a fall, Jack turned to examine the
building, to see whether any more favourable point of descent presented
itself, but could discover nothing but steep walls, without a single
available projection. Finding it impossible to descend on any side,
without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket,
by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on
the roof of the house in Giltspur-street. Accordingly he began to
retrace his steps, and pursuing the course he had recently taken,
scaling the two towers, and passing along the walls of the prison, he
descended by means of the door upon the Lower Leads. Before he
re-entered the prison he hesitated, from a doubt whether he was not
fearfully increasing his risk of capture; but, convinced that he had no
other alternative, he went on. During all this time he had never quitted
the iron bar, and he now grasped it with the firm determination of
selling his life dearly if he met with any opposition. A few seconds
sufficed to clear the passages through which it had previously cost him
more than two hours to force his way. The floor was strewn with screws,
nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy
iron fillet. He did not disturb any of the litter, but left it as a mark
of his prowess. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking
the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the
bar, it flew open. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and
having gained the entry leading to the Red Room, he passed through the
first door, his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken
stones, which he himself had raised. Listening at one of the doors
leading to the master-debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a
Bacchanalian melody; and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the
song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in that quarter.
Entering the Red-Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended
the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. How
different were his present feelings, compared with those he had
experienced on quitting it! Then, full of confidence, he half doubted
his power of accomplishing his designs. Now he had achieved them, and
felt assured of success. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been
so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his
attack upon the wall of the Red-Room, that it was with some difficulty
that he could find the blanket, which was almost buried beneath the
pile. He next searched for his stockings and shoes, and when found, put
them on. He now prepared to return to the roof, and throwing the blanket
over his left arm, and shouldering the iron bar, he again clambered up
the chimney, regained the Red-Room, hurried along the first passage,
crossed the chapel, threaded the entry to the Lower Leads, and in less
than three minutes after quitting the Castle, had reached the northern
extremity of the prison. Previously to his descent, he had left the nail
and spike on the wall, and with these he fastened the blanket to the
coping-stone. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having
only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety.
"Having now got fairly out of Newgate, for the second time, with a heart
throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape. To his
great joy he found a small garret door in the roof of the opposite house
open; he entered it, crossed the room, in which there was only a small
truckle-bed, over which he stumbled, opened another door and gained the
stair-head. As he was about to descend, his chains slightly rattled. 'O
lud! what's that?' cried a female voice from an adjoining room 'Only the
dog,' replied the rough tones of a man, and all was again silent.
Securing the chain in the best way he could, Jack then hurried down two
pair of stairs, and had nearly reached the lobby, when a door suddenly
opened, and two persons appeared, one of whom held a light. Retreating
as quickly as he could, Jack opened the first door he came to, entered a
room, and searching in the dark for some place of concealment,
fortunately discovered a screen, behind which he crept."
Having lain down here for about two hours, he once more proceeded down
stairs, and saw a gentleman take leave of the family and quit the house,
lighted by the servant; and as soon as the maid returned, he resolved to
venture at all hazards. In stealing down the stairs he stumbled against
a chamber door, but instantly recovering himself, he got into the
street.
By this time it was after twelve o'clock, and passing by the watch-house
of St. Sepulchre, he bid the watchman good night; and going up Holborn,
he turned down Gray's Inn Lane, and at about two in the morning, he got
into the fields near Tottenham Court Road, where he took shelter in a
cow-house, and slept soundly for about three hours. His fetters were
still on his legs, and he dreaded the approach of daylight lest he
should be discovered. His mind, however, was somewhat relieved for the
present, for at seven o'clock the rain began to fall in torrents, so
that no one ventured near his hiding-place. Night coming on, the calls
of hunger drove him to seek some refreshment, and going to Tottenham
Court Road, he ventured to purchase some bread and cheese and small-beer
at a chandler's shop. He had during the day been planning various means
to procure the release of his legs from the bondage of his chains, and
now having forty-five shillings in his possession, he attempted to
procure a hammer. His efforts, however, proved ineffectual, and he was
compelled to return to his shelter for the night. The next day brought
him no relief; and having again gone to the chandler's shop, he once
more went back to his place of concealment. The next day was Sunday, and
he now beat the basils of his irons with a stone, so that he might slip
them over his heels, but the master of the cow-house coming, interrupted
him, and demanded to know how he came there so confined by irons. The
answer given was, that he had escaped from Bridewell, where he had been
confined because he was unable to give security for the payment of a sum
of money for the maintenance of a child he had had sworn to him, and the
master of the house desiring him to be gone, then quitted him. A
shoemaker soon after coming near, Jack called him, and telling him the
same story, induced him, by a bribe of twenty shillings, to procure him
a hammer and a punch. They set to work together to remove the irons, and
his legs were at length freed from this encumbrance at about five
o'clock.
When night came on, our adventurer tied a handkerchief about his head,
tore his woollen cap in several places, and also his coat and stockings,
so as to have the appearance of a beggar; and in this condition he went
to a cellar near Charing Cross, where he supped on roast veal, and
listened to the conversation of the company, all of whom were talking of
the escape of Sheppard. On the Monday he sheltered himself at a
public-house of little trade in Rupert-street, and conversing with the
landlady about Sheppard, he told her it was impossible for him to get
out of the kingdom, and the keepers would certainly have him again in a
few days; on which the woman wished that a curse might fall on those who
should betray him.
On the next day he hired a garret in Newport Market, and soon
afterwards, dressing himself like a porter, he went to Blackfriars, to
the house of Mr. Applebee, printer of the dying speeches, and delivered
a letter, in which he ridiculed the printer and the Ordinary of Newgate,
and inclosed a communication for one of the keepers of the gaol.
Some nights after this he broke open the shop of Mr. Rawlins, a
pawnbroker, in Drury Lane, where he stole a sword, a suit of wearing
apparel, some snuff-boxes, rings, watches, and other effects to a
considerable amount; and determining to make the appearance of a
gentleman among his old acquaintance in Drury Lane and Clare Market, he
dressed himself in a suit of black and a tie-wig, wore a ruffled shirt,
a silver-hilted sword, a diamond ring, and a gold watch, and joined them
at supper, though he knew that diligent search was making after him at
that very time. On the 31st of October he dined with two women at a
public-house in Newgate-street, and about four in the afternoon they all
passed under Newgate in a hackney-coach, having first drawn up the
blinds. Going in the evening to a public-house in Maypole Alley, Clare
Market, Sheppard sent for his mother, and treated her with brandy, when
the poor woman dropped on her knees, and begged that he would
immediately retire from the kingdom. He promised to do so; but now being
grown mad from the effects of the liquor he had drunk, he wandered about
from public-house to public-house in the neighbourhood till near twelve
o'clock at night, when he was apprehended in consequence of the
information of an ale-house boy, who knew him. When taken into custody
he was quite senseless, and was conveyed to Newgate in a coach, without
being capable of making any resistance, although he had two loaded
pistols in his possession at the time. He was now lodged securely
enough; and his fame being increased by his recent exploits, he was
visited by many persons of distinction, whom he diverted by a recital of
the particulars of many robberies in which he had been concerned, but he
invariably concluded his narration by expressing a hope that his
visitors would endeavour to procure the exercise of the royal mercy in
his behalf, to which he considered that his remarkable dexterity gave
him some claim.
Having been already convicted, it was unnecessary that the forms of a
trial should be again gone through, and on the 10th of November he was
carried to the bar of the Court of King's Bench; when a record of his
conviction having been read, and an affidavit made that he was the same
person alluded to in it, sentence of death was passed upon him by Mr.
Justice Powis, and a rule of court was made for his execution on the
following Monday. He subsequently regularly attended chapel in the gaol,
and behaved there with apparent decency, but on his quitting its walls,
he did not hesitate to endeavour to prevent any seriousness among his
fellow prisoners. All his hopes were still fixed upon his being
pardoned, and even when the day of execution arrived, he did not appear
to have given over all expectations of eluding justice; for having been
furnished with a penknife, he put it in his pocket, with a view, when
the melancholy procession came opposite Little Turnstile, to have cut
the cord that bound his arms, and, throwing himself out of the cart
among the crowd, to have run through the narrow passage where the
sheriff's officers could not follow on horseback, and he had no doubt
but he should make his escape by the assistance of the mob. It was not
impossible that this scheme might have succeeded; but before Sheppard
left the press-yard, one Watson, an officer, searching his pockets,
found the knife, and was cut with it so as to occasion a great effusion
of blood. He, however, had yet a farther view to his preservation even
after execution; for he desired his acquaintance to put him into a warm
bed as soon as he should be cut down, and to try to open a vein, which
he had been told would restore him to life.
He behaved with great decency at the place of execution, and confessed
that he had committed two robberies, for which he had been tried, but
had been acquitted. His execution took place at Tyburn, on the 16th of
November, 1724, in the twenty-third year of his age. He died with
difficulty; and there were not wanting those among the crowd assembled,
who pitied him for the fate which befel him at so early a period of his
life. When he was cut down, his body was delivered over to his friends,
who carried it to a public-house in Long Acre; from which it was removed
in the evening, and buried in the church-yard of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields.
The adventures of this notorious offender excited more attention than
those of many of our most celebrated warriors. He was, for a
considerable time, the principal subject of conversation in all ranks of
society. Histories of his life issued from the press in a variety of
forms. A pantomimic entertainment was brought forward at Drury-lane
theatre, called "Harlequin Sheppard," wherein his adventures,
prison-breakings, and other extraordinary escapes, were represented; and
another dramatic work was published, as a farce of three acts, called
"The Prison-Breaker;" or, "The Adventures of John Sheppard;" and a part
of it, with songs, catches, and glees added, was performed at
Bartholomew Fair, under the title of "The Quaker's Opera."
The arts too, were busied in handing to posterity memoranda for us never
to follow the example of Jack Sheppard.
Sir James Thornhill[2], the first painter of the day, painted his
portrait, from which engravings in mezzotinto were made; and the few
still in preservation are objects of curiosity. On this subject the
following lines were written at the time:--
"Thornhill, 'tis thine to gild with fame
The obscure, and raise the humble name;
To make the form elude the grave,
And Sheppard from oblivion save.
Though life in vain the wretch implores,
An exile on the farthest shores,
Thy pencil brings a kind reprieve,
And bids the dying robber live.
This piece to latest time shall stand,
And show the wonders of thy hand:
Thus former masters graced their name,
And gave egregious robbers fame.
Apelles Alexander drew,
Cæsar is to Aurelius due;
Cromwell in Lily's works doth shine,
And Sheppard, Thornhill, lives in thine."
In modern times, the adventures of Sheppard and his contemporaries have
become even better known and more remarked, in consequence of the work
to which we have already alluded, and from which we have made an extract
which details his exploits with great exactness; but at the same time
gives to them a degree of romantic interest to which they are hardly
entitled. The _rage_ for house-breakers has become immense, and the
fortunes of the most notorious and the most successful of thieves have
been made the subject of entertainments at no fewer than six of the
London theatres.
Blewitt, whose name is mentioned in the foregoing sketch, as one of the
earliest companions of Sheppard, was eventually hanged, with others, for
the murder of a fellow named Ball, a publican and ex-thief, who lived in
the Mint, and who had provoked the anger of his murderers, by
threatening to denounce them. Their execution took place on the 12th of
April, 1726.
JONATHAN WILD.
EXECUTED FOR FELONIOUSLY CONNIVING WITH THIEVES.
The name of this most notorious offender must be familiar to all; his
arts and practices are scarcely less universally known. The power
exercised by him over thieves of all classes, and of both sexes, was so
great as that he may have been considered their chief and director, at
the same time that he did not disdain to become their coadjutor, or the
participator in the proceeds of their villany. The system which he
pursued will be sufficiently disclosed in the notices which follow of
the various transactions in which he was engaged; but it appears to have
been founded upon the principle of employing a thief so long as his
efforts proved profitable, or until their suspension should be attended
with advantage, and then of terminating his career in the most speedy
and efficacious manner, by the gallows.
The subject of this narrative was born at Wolverhampton in
Staffordshire, about the year 1682; and his parents being persons of
decent character and station, he was put to school, where he gained a
competent knowledge of the ordinary minor branches of education. At the
age of fifteen he was apprenticed to a buckle-maker, at Birmingham; and
at the age of twenty-two, his time having expired, he was united to a
young woman of respectability, whom he was well able to support by the
exercise of his trade. His wife soon afterwards presented him with a
son; but getting tired of a life of quietude, he started for London,
leaving his wife and child destitute, and soon gained fresh employment.
His disposition, however, led him into extravagances, and having
contracted some debts, he was arrested, and thrown into Wood-street
Compter, where, according to his own statement, "it was impossible but
he must, in some measure, be led into the secrets of the criminals there
under confinement, and particularly under Mr. Hitchin's management." He
remained in prison upwards of four years, and the opportunity which was
afforded him, of becoming acquainted with the persons, as well as the
practices of thieves was not lost upon him. A woman named Mary Milliner,
one of the most abandoned prostitutes and pickpockets on the town, who
was also in custody for debt, soon attracted his attention, and an
intimacy having commenced in the prison, on their discharge they lived
together as man and wife. The possession of a small sum of money having
been obtained, they opened a public-house in Cock Alley, Cripplegate;
and from the notoriety of Mrs. Milliner, and her intimate acquaintance
with the thieves of the metropolis, it soon became the resort of the
lowest of the class. While Wild was thus pursuing his course to his
pecuniary advantage, however, he lost no time in acquiring a proficiency
in all the arts of knavery; and having, with great assiduity, penetrated
into the secrets of his customers, he started as a "fence," or receiver
of stolen goods; and by this means he obtained that power, which
subsequently proved so useful to him, and so dangerous to those who
entrusted him with their secrets. He was at first at little trouble to
dispose of the articles brought to him by thieves at something less than
their real value, no law existing for the punishment of the receivers of
stolen goods; but the evil having increased at length to an enormous
degree, it was deemed expedient by the legislature to frame a law for
its suppression; and an act was therefore passed, consigning such as
should be convicted of receiving goods, knowing them to have been
stolen, to transportation for the space of fourteen years.
This was a check of no very trifling character to his proceedings, but
his imagination suggested to him a plan by which he would save himself
from all his profits being lost. He therefore called a meeting of
thieves, and observed that, if they carried their booties to such of the
pawnbrokers as were known to be not much affected by scruples of
conscience, they would scarcely receive on the property one-fourth of
the real value; and that if they were offered to strangers, either for
sale or by way of deposit, it was a chance of ten to one but the parties
offering were rendered amenable to the laws. The most industrious
thieves, he said, were now scarcely able to obtain a livelihood, and
must either submit to be half-starved, or live in great and continual
danger of Tyburn. He had, however, devised a plan for removing the
inconveniences which existed, which he would act upon most honourably,
provided they would follow his advice, and behave towards him with equal
honesty. He proposed, therefore, that when they made prize of anything,
they should deliver it to him, instead of carrying it to the pawnbroker,
saying, that he would restore the goods to the owners, by which means
greater sums might be raised, while the thieves would remain perfectly
secure from detection. This proposition was one which met with universal
approbation, and the plan was immediately carried into effect,
convenient places being established as the depositaries of the stolen
goods. The plan thus concerted, it became the business of Wild to apply
to persons who had been robbed, and pretending to be greatly concerned
at their misfortunes, to say, that some suspected goods had been stopped
by a friend of his, a broker, who would be willing to give them up; and
he failed not then to throw out a hint that the broker merited some
reward for his disinterested conduct and for his trouble, and to exact a
promise that no disagreeable consequences should follow, because the
broker had omitted to secure the thieves as well as the property. The
person whose goods had been carried off was not generally unwilling by
this means to save himself the trouble and expense of a prosecution, and
the money paid was generally sufficient to remunerate the "broker," as
well as his agent. This trade was successfully carried on for several
years, and considerable sums of money were amassed; but at length
another and a safer plan was adopted. The name of our hero having become
pretty extensively known, instead of applying to the parties who had
been plundered, he opened an office, to which great numbers resorted, in
the hope of obtaining the restitution of their property. In this
situation he lost no opportunity of procuring for himself the greatest
credit, as well as the greatest profit possible. He made a great parade
in his business, and assumed a consequence which enabled him more
effectually to impose upon the public. When persons came to his office,
they were informed that they must each pay a crown in consideration of
receiving his advice. This ceremony being despatched, he entered into
his book the name and address of the applicants, with all the
particulars they could communicate respecting the robberies, and the
rewards that would be given provided the goods were recovered: they were
then required to call again in a few days, when, he said, he hoped he
should be able to give them some agreeable intelligence. Upon returning
to know the success of his inquiries, he told them that he had received
some information concerning their goods, but that the agent he had
employed to trace them had apprised him that the robbers pretended they
could raise more money by pawning the property than by restoring it for
the promised reward; saying, however, that if he could by any means
procure an interview with the villains, he doubted not of being able to
settle matters agreeably to the terms already stipulated; but, at the
same time, artfully insinuating that the safest and most expeditious
method would be to make some addition to the reward; and thus having
secured the promise of the largest sum that could be obtained, he would
direct a third call, and then the goods would be ready to be delivered.
It will be seen that considerable advantages were derived from examining
the person who had been robbed; for by that means he became acquainted
with particulars which the thieves might omit to communicate, and was
enabled to detect them if they concealed any part of their booties.
Being in possession of the secrets of every notorious thief, they were
under the necessity of complying with whatever terms he thought proper
to exact, because they were aware that, by opposing his inclination,
they would involve themselves in the most imminent danger of being
sacrificed to the injured laws of their country; and thus he was enabled
to impose both on the robber and the robbed. The accumulation of money
by these artifices enabled Wild to maintain the character of a man of
consequence; and to support his imaginary dignity, he dressed in laced
clothes and wore a sword, which martial instrument he first exercised on
the person of his accomplice and reputed wife, Mary Milliner, who having
on some occasion provoked him, he instantly struck at her with it, and
cut off one of her ears. This event was the cause of separation; but in
acknowledgment of the great services she had rendered him, by
introducing him to so advantageous a _profession_, he allowed her a
weekly stipend till her decease.
In the year 1715 Wild removed from his house in Cock Alley to a Mrs.
Seagoe's, in the Old Bailey, where he pursued his business with the
usual success; but while resident there, a controversy of a most
singular character arose between him and a fellow named Charles Hitchin,
who had been city marshal, but had been suspended for malpractices, to
whom before his adoption of the lucrative profession which he now
carried on, he had acted as assistant. These celebrated copartners in
villany, under the pretext of controlling the enormities of the
dissolute, paraded the streets from Temple-bar to the Minories,
searching houses of ill-fame, and apprehending disorderly and suspected
persons; but those who complimented the reformers with douceurs, were
allowed to practise every species of wickedness with impunity. Hitchin
and Wild, however, grew jealous of each other, and an open rupture
taking place, they parted, each pursuing the business of thief-taking on
his own account.
Our readers will doubtless be somewhat surprised to hear that these
rivals in villany appealed to the public, and attacked each other with
all possible scurrility in pamphlets and advertisements. Never was the
press so debased as in publishing the productions of their pens. Hitchin
published what he called "The Regulator; or a Discovery of Thieves and
Thief-takers." It is an ignorant and impudent insult to the reader, and
replete with abuse of Wild, whom he brands, in his capacity of
thief-taker, with being worse than the thief. Wild retorts with great
bitterness but Hitchin having greatly debased the respectable post of
city marshal, the lord mayor suspended him from that office. In order to
repair his loss, he determined, as the most prudent step, to strive to
bury his aversion, and confederate with Wild. To effect this, he wrote
as follows:
"I am sensible that you are let into the knowledge of the secrets of the
Compter, particularly with relation to the securing of pocket-books; but
your experience is inferior to mine: I can put you in a far better
method than you are acquainted with, and which may be done with safety;
for though I am suspended, I still retain the power of acting as
constable, and notwithstanding I cannot be heard before my lord mayor as
formerly, I have interest among the aldermen upon any complaint.
"But I must first tell you that you spoil the trade of thief-taking, in
advancing greater rewards than are necessary. I give but half-a-crown a
book, and when thieves and pickpockets see you and me confederate, they
will submit to our terms, and likewise continue their thefts, for fear
of coming to the gallows by our means. You shall take a turn with me, as
my servant or assistant, and we'll commence our rambles this night."
Wild it appears readily accepted the ex-marshal's proposals, and they
accordingly proceeded to take their walks together, imposing upon the
unwary and confederating with thieves, whom at the same time they did
not hesitate to make their slaves. One or two instances of their mode of
doing business may not be uninteresting. They are taken from a pamphlet
written by Wild, and may therefore be supposed to be correct.
"A biscuit-baker near Wapping having lost a pocket-book containing,
among other papers, an exchequer bill for 100_l._, applied to Wild for
its recovery: the latter advised him to advertise it, and stop the
payment of the bill, which he did accordingly; but having no account of
his property, he came to Wild several times about it, and at length told
him that he had received a visit from a tall man, with a long peruke and
sword, calling himself the city-marshal, who asked him if he had lost
his pocket-book? He said that he had, and desired to know the inquirer's
reasons for putting such a question, or whether he could give him any
intelligence; but he replied, No, he could not give him any intelligence
of it as yet, and wished to be informed whether he had employed any
person to search after it? He said that he had employed one Wild;
whereupon the marshal told him he was under a mistake; that he should
have applied to him, as he was the only person in England that could
serve him, being well assured it was entirely out of the power of Wild,
or any of those fellows, to know where the pocket-book was (this was
very certain, he having it at that time in his custody); and begged to
know the reward that would be given? The biscuit-baker replied that he
would give ten pounds, but the marshal said that a greater reward should
be offered, for that exchequer bills and those things were ready money,
and could immediately be sold; and that if he had employed him in the
beginning, and offered forty or fifty pounds, he would have served him.
Wild gave it as his opinion, that the pocket-book was in the marshal's
possession, and that it would be to no purpose to continue advertising
it; and he advised the owner rather to advance his bidding, considering
what hands the note was in, especially as the marshal had often told him
how easily he could dispose of bank-notes and exchequer notes at
gaming-houses, which he very much frequented. Pursuant to this advice,
the losing party went to the marshal, and bid forty pounds for his
pocket-book and bill, but 'Zounds, sir,' said the marshal, you are too
late!' and that was all the satisfaction he gave him. Thus was the poor
biscuit-baker tricked out of his exchequer-bill, which was paid to
another person, though it could never be traced back; but it happened a
short time after, that some of the young fry of pickpockets, under the
tuition of the marshal, fell out in sharing the money given them for
this very pocket-book; whereupon one of them came to Wild, and
discovered the whole matter, viz. that he had sold the pocket-book, with
the 100_l._ exchequer-note in it, and other bills, to the city-marshal,
at a tavern in Aldersgate-street, for four or five guineas."
"The marshal going one night up Ludgate Hill, observed a well-dressed
woman walking before, whom he told Wild was a lewd woman, for that he
saw her talking with a man. This was no sooner spoke but he seized her,
and asked who she was. She made answer that she was a bailiffs wife.
'You are more likely to be a prostitute,' said the marshal, 'and as such
you shall go to the Compter.'
"Taking the woman through St. Paul's churchyard, she desired liberty to
send for some friends, but he would not comply with her request. He
forced her into the Nag's Head tavern in Cheapside, where he presently
ordered a hot supper and plenty of wine to be brought in; commanding the
female to keep at a distance from him, and telling her that he did not
permit such vermin to sit in his company, though he intended to make her
pay the reckoning. When the supper was brought to the table, he fell to
it lustily, and would not allow the woman to eat any part of it with
him, or to come near the fire, though it was extreme cold weather. When
he had supped he stared round, and applying himself to her, told her
that if he had been an informer, or such a fellow, she would have called
for eatables and wine herself, and not have given him the trouble of
direction, or else would have slipped a piece into his hand; adding,
'You may do what you please; but I can assure you it is in my power, if
I see a woman in the hands of informers, to discharge her, and commit
them. You are not so ignorant but you must guess my meaning.' She
replied, 'that she had money enough to pay for the supper, and about
three half-crowns more;' and this desirable answer being given, he
ordered his attendant to withdraw, while he compounded the matter with
her.
"When Wild returned, the gentlewoman was civilly asked to sit by the
fire, and eat the remainder of the supper, and in all respects treated
very kindly, only with a pretended reprimand to give him better language
whenever he should speak to her for the future; and, after another
bottle drunk at her expense, she was discharged."
The object of these allegations on the part of Wild may be easily seen,
and the effect which he desired was at length produced; for the marshal,
having been suspended, and subsequently fined twenty pounds, and
pilloried, for a crime too loathsome to be named, he was at length
compelled to retire; and thus he left Wild alone to execute his plans of
depredation upon the public. The latter, not unmindful of the tenure
upon which his reputation hung, was too wary to allow discontent to
appear among his followers, and therefore he found it to his interest to
take care that where he promised them protection, his undertaking should
not be neglected or pass unfulfilled. His powers in supporting his word
were greater than can be well imagined, in the present state of things,
where so much corruption ruption has been got rid of; and where his
influence among persons in office failed him, his exertions in procuring
the testimony of false witnesses to rebut that evidence which was truly
detailed, and the nature of which he could always learn beforehand,
generally enabled him to secure the object, which he had in view. His
threats, however, were not less amply fulfilled than his promises; and
his vengeance once declared was never withdrawn, and seldom failed in
being carried out.
By his subjecting such as incurred his displeasure to the punishment of
the law, he obtained the rewards offered for pursuing them to
conviction; and greatly extended his ascendancy over the other thieves,
who considered him with a kind of awe; while, at the same time, he
established his character as being a man of great public utility.
A few anecdotes of the life and proceedings of this worthy will
sufficiently exhibit the system which he pursued.
A lady of fortune being on a visit in Piccadilly, her servants, leaving
her sedan at the door, went to refresh themselves at a neighbouring
public-house. Upon their return the vehicle was not to be found; in
consequence of which the men immediately went to Wild, and having
informed him of their loss, and complimented him with the usual fee,
they were desired to call upon him again in a few days. Upon their
second application Wild extorted from them a considerable reward, and
then directed them to attend the chapel in Lincoln's-inn-Fields on the
following morning, during the time of prayers. The men went according to
the appointment, and under the piazzas of the chapel perceived the
chair, which upon examination they found to contain the velvet seat,
curtains, and other furniture, and that it had received no kind of
damage.
A thief of most infamous character, named Arnold Powel, being confined
in Newgate, on a charge of having robbed a house in the neighbourhood of
Golden Square of property to a great amount, was visited by Jonathan,
who informed him that, in consideration of a sum of money, he would save
his life; adding that if the proposal was rejected, he should inevitably
die at Tyburn for the offence on account of which he was then
imprisoned. The prisoner, however, not believing that it was in Wild's
power to do him any injury, bade him defiance. He was brought to trial;
but through a defect of evidence he was acquitted. Having gained
intelligence that Powel had committed a burglary in the house of Mr.
Eastlick, near Fleet Ditch, Wild caused that gentleman to prosecute the
robber. Upon receiving information that a bill was found for the
burglary, Powel sent for Wild, and a compromise was effected according
to the terms which Wild himself had proposed, in consequence of which
Powel was assured that his life should be preserved. Upon the approach
of the sessions Wild informed the prosecutor that the first and second
days would be employed in other trials; and as he was willing Mr.
Eastlick should avoid attending with his witnesses longer than was
necessary, he would give timely notice when Powel would be arraigned.
But he contrived to have the prisoner put to the bar; and no persons
appearing to prosecute, he was necessarily dismissed; and the court
ordered Mr. Eastlick's recognisances to be estreated. Powel was ordered
to remain in custody till the next sessions, there being another
indictment against him; and Mr. Eastlick represented the behaviour of
Wild to the court, who reprimanded him with great severity. Powel now
put himself into a salivation, in order to avoid being brought to trial
the next sessions; but, notwithstanding this stratagem, he was arraigned
and convicted, and was executed on the 20th of March, 1717.
At this time Wild quitted his apartments at Mrs. Seagoe's, and hired a
house adjoining to the Coopers' Arms, on the opposite side of the Old
Bailey. His unexampled villanies were now become an object of so much
consequence, as to excite the particular attention of the legislature;
and in the year 1718 an act was passed, deeming every person guilty of a
capital offence who should accept a reward in consequence of restoring
stolen effects without prosecuting the thief. It was the general opinion
that this law would effectually suppress the iniquitous practices he had
carried on; but, after some interruption to his proceedings, he devised
means for evading it, which were for several years attended with
success.
He now declined the custom of receiving money from the persons who
applied to him; but, upon the second or third time of calling, informed
them that all he had been able to learn respecting their business was,
that if a sum of money was left at an appointed place, their property
would be restored the same day. Sometimes, as the person robbed was
returning from Wild's house he was accosted in the street by a man who
delivered the stolen effects, at the same time producing a note,
expressing the sum that was to be paid for them; but in cases where he
supposed danger was to be apprehended, he advised people to advertise
that whoever would bring the stolen goods to Jonathan Wild should be
rewarded, and no questions asked.
In the two first instances it could not be proved that he either saw the
thief, received the goods, or accepted of a reward; and in the latter
case he acted agreeably to the directions of the injured party, and
there appeared no reason to criminate him as being in confederacy with
the felons.
Our adventurer's business had by this time so much increased, that he
opened an office in Newtoner's-lane, to the management of which he
appointed his man Abraham Mendez, a Jew. This fellow proved a remarkably
industrious and faithful servant to Jonathan, who entrusted him with
matters of the greatest importance, and derived great advantage from his
labours. The species of despotic government which he exercised may be
well collected from the following case:--He had inserted in his book a
gold watch, a quantity of fine lace, and other property of considerable
value, which one John Butler had stolen from a house at Newington Green;
but Butler, instead of coming to account as usual, gave up his felonious
practices, and lived on the produce of his booty. Wild, highly enraged
at being excluded his share, determined to pursue every possible means
to secure his conviction.
Being informed that he lodged at a public house in Bishopsgate-street,
he went to it early one morning, when Butler, hearing him ascending the
stairs, jumped out of the window of his room, and climbing over the wall
of the yard got into the street. Wild broke open the door of the room,
but was disappointed at finding that the man of whom he was in pursuit
had escaped. In the meantime Butler ran into a house the door of which
stood open, and descending to the kitchen, where some women were
washing, told them he was pursued by a bailiff, and they advised him to
conceal himself in the coal-hole. Jonathan coming out of the ale-house,
and seeing a shop on the opposite side of the way open, inquired of the
master, who was a dyer, whether a man had not taken refuge in his house?
The dyer answered in the negative, saying he had not left his shop more
than a minute since it had been opened. Wild then requested to search
the house, and the dyer having readily complied, he proceeded to the
kitchen, and asked the women if they knew whether a man had taken
shelter in the house. They also denied that they had, but on his
informing them that the man he sought was a thief, they said he would
find him in the coal-hole.
Having procured a candle, Wild and his attendants searched the place
without effect, and they examined every part of the house with no better
success. He observed that the villain must have escaped into the street;
but the dyer saying that he had not quitted the shop, and it was
impossible that a man could pass to the street without his knowledge,
they all again went into the cellar, and, after some time spent in
searching, the dyer turned up a large vessel used in his business, and
Butler appeared.
Butler, however, knowing the means by which an accommodation might be
effected, directed our hero to go to his lodging, and look behind the
head of the bed, where he would find what would recompense him for his
time and trouble. Wild went to the place, and found what perfectly
satisfied him; but as Butler had been apprehended in a public manner,
the other was under the necessity of taking him before a magistrate, who
committed him for trial. He was tried at the ensuing sessions at the Old
Bailey; but, by the artful management of Wild, instead of being
condemned to die, he was only sentenced to transportation.
The increased quantity of unclaimed property now in his hands, compelled
Wild to seek some new mode of disposing of it, in a manner which should
benefit him; and with this view he purchased a sloop, in order to
transport the goods to Holland and Flanders, where he conceived he
should find an easy market for them. The command of his vessel was
entrusted to a fellow named Johnson, a notorious thief; and Ostend was
selected by him as the port to which the vessel should principally
trade. The goods, however, not being all disposed of there, he would
carry them to Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, and other places. In return he
brought home lace, wine, brandy, and the other commodities of the
countries which he visited, which he always contrived to land without
affording any trouble to the officers of his Majesty's customs. When
this traffic had continued for about two years, a circumstance occurred
which entirely and effectually prevented its being any longer carried
on. Five pieces of lace were missing on the arrival of the ship in
England, and Johnson, deeming the mate to be answerable for its
production, deducted their value from the amount due to him for his pay.
The latter was naturally violently irritated at this harsh proceeding,
and he forthwith lodged an information against his captain, for running
goods subject to exciseable duties. The vessel was in consequence
seized, and Johnson was cast into prison for penalties to the amount of
700_l._ This was of course the ruin of the commercial proceedings; and
the only remaining subject to be touched upon in this sketch is that
which proved the ruin, and the termination of the career of Jonathan
Wild.
Johnson having obtained his liberty from the government prosecution,
soon returned to his old practices of robbery; but it was not long
before
[Illustration: _Jonathan Wild unkennelling Butler._]
a disagreement took place between him and Thomas Edwards, the keeper of
a house which was the resort of thieves, in Long-lane, with respect to
the division of some spoil, and meeting one day in the Strand, a scene
of mutual recrimination took place between them, and they were at length
both taken into custody. Johnson was bailed by Wild, and Edwards gained
his liberty by there being no prosecution against him; but his enmity
being now diverted in some degree from Johnson to Wild, he was no sooner
at large than he gave information against him, in consequence of which,
his warehouses being searched, a great quantity of stolen goods was
discovered. It was pretended that the property belonged to Johnson, and
Edwards was arrested at his suit for a supposed debt, and lodged in the
Marshalsea; but he soon procured bail. His anger against Johnson for
this act was much increased, and he determined to have his revenge upon
him; and meeting him in the Whitechapel-road, he gave him into the
custody of an officer, who conveyed him to a neighbouring ale-house.
Wild being sent for, made his appearance, accompanied by Quilt Arnold,
one of his assistants, and they soon raised a riot, in the midst of
which the prisoner ran off. Information was immediately given of the
escape, and of Wild's interference in it; and the attention of the
authorities being now called to this notorious offender, he judged it
prudent to abscond, and he remained concealed for three weeks. He was
unaware of the extent of the danger which threatened him, however, and
at the end of that time he returned to his house. Being apprised of
this, Mr. Jones, high-constable of Holborn division, went to his house
in the Old Bailey; and on the 15th of February, 1725, apprehended him
and Quilt Arnold, and took them before Sir John Fryer, who committed
them to Newgate, on a charge of having assisted in the escape of
Johnson.
On Wednesday, the 24th of the same month, Wild moved to be either
admitted to bail or discharged, or brought to trial that session; and on
the following Friday a warrant of detainer was produced against him in
Court, to which were affixed the following articles of information:--
I. That for many years past he had been a confederate with great numbers
of highwaymen, pick-pockets, housebreakers, shop-lifters, and other
thieves.
II. That he had formed a kind of corporation of thieves, of which he was
the head or director; and that notwithstanding his pretended services in
detecting and prosecuting offenders, he procured such only to be hanged
as concealed their booty, or refused to share it with him.
III. That he had divided the town and country into so many districts,
and appointed distinct gangs for each, who regularly accounted with him
for their robberies. That he had also a particular set to steal at
churches in time of divine service; and likewise other moving
detachments to attend at court on birth-days, balls, &c. and at both
houses of parliament, circuits, and country fairs.
IV. That the persons employed by him were for the most part felon
convicts, who had returned from transportation before the time for which
they were transported was expired; and that he made choice of them to be
his agents, because they could not be legal evidences against him, and
because he had it in his power to take from them what part of the stolen
goods he thought fit, and otherwise use them ill, or hang them, as he
pleased.
V. That he had from time to time supplied such convicted felons with
money and clothes, and lodged them in his own house, the better to
conceal them: particularly some against whom there are now informations
for counterfeiting and diminishing broad-pieces and guineas.
VI. That he had not only been a receiver of stolen goods, as well as of
writings of all kinds, for near fifteen years past, but had frequently
been a confederate, and robbed along with the above-mentioned convicted
felons.
VII. That in order to carry on these vile practices, and to gain some
credit with the ignorant multitude, he usually carried a short silver
staff, as a badge of authority from the government, which he used to
produce when he himself was concerned in robbing.
VIII. That he had, under his care and direction, several warehouses for
receiving and concealing stolen goods; and also a ship for carrying off
jewels, watches, and other valuable goods, to Holland, where he had a
superannuated thief for his factor.
IX. That he kept in pay several artists to make alterations, and
transform watches, seals, snuff-boxes, rings, and other valuable things,
that they might not be known, several of which he used to present to
such persons as he thought might be of service to him.
X. That he seldom or never helped the owners to the notes and papers
they had lost unless he found them able exactly to specify and describe
them, and then often insisted on having more than half their value.
XI. And, lastly, it appeared that he had often sold human blood, by
procuring false evidence to swear persons into facts of which they were
not guilty; sometimes to prevent them from being evidences against
himself, and at other times for the sake of the great rewards given by
the government.
The information of Mr. Jones was also read in court, setting forth that
two persons would be produced to accuse the prisoner of capital
offences. The men alluded to in the affidavit were John Follard and
Thomas Butler, who had been convicted, but pardoned on condition of
their appearing to support the prosecution against their former master.
On the 12th of April a motion for the postponement of the trial until
the ensuing sessions was made on behalf of Wild, and after some
discussion it was granted; the ground of the postponement being alleged
to be the absence of two material witnesses for the defence, named ----
Hays, of the Packhorse, Turnham Green, and ---- Wilson, a clothier at
Frome, in Somersetshire.
On Saturday, May 15, 1725, the trial came on, and the prisoner was then
arraigned on an indictment for privately stealing in the house of
Catherine Stretham, in the parish of St. Andrew, Holborn, fifty yards of
lace, the property of the said Catherine, on the 22d of January in the
same year.
He was also indicted for feloniously receiving from the said Catherine,
on the 10th of March, the sum of ten guineas, on account and under
pretence of restoring the said lace, and procuring the apprehension and
prosecution of the person by whom the same was stolen.
Before the trial came on, the prisoner was not a little industrious in
endeavouring to establish a feeling in his favour, and he distributed a
great number of printed papers among the jurymen and others walking
about the court, entitled. "A List of persons discovered, apprehended,
and convicted of several robberies on the highway; and also for
burglaries and housebreaking; and also for returning from
transportation; by Jonathan Wild." The list contained the names of
thirty-five persons for robbing on the highway, twenty-two for
housebreaking, and ten for returning from transportation, and the
following note was appended to it.
"Several others have been also convicted for the like crimes; but,
remembering not the persons' names who had been robbed, I omit the
criminals names.
"Please to observe that several others have been also convicted for
shoplifting, picking of pockets, &c. by the female sex, which are
capital crimes, and which are too tedious to be inserted here, and the
prosecutors not willing of being exposed.
"In regard, therefore, of the numbers above convicted, some that have
yet escaped justice, are endeavouring to take away the life of the said
"JONATHAN WILD."
The prisoner, being put to the bar, requested that the witnesses might
be examined apart, which was complied with.
The trial then commenced, and the first witness called was Henry Kelly,
who deposed that by the prisoner's direction he went, in company with
Margaret Murphy, to the prosecutor's shop, under pretence of buying some
lace; that he stole a tin box, and gave it to Murphy in order to deliver
to Wild, who waited in the street for the purpose of receiving their
booty, and rescuing them if they should be taken into custody; that they
returned together to Wild's house, where the box being opened, was found
to contain eleven pieces of lace; that Wild said he could afford to give
no more than five guineas, as he should not be able to get more than ten
guineas for returning the goods to the owner; that the witness received
as his share three guineas and a crown, and that Murphy had what
remained of the five guineas.
Margaret Murphy was next sworn, and her evidence corresponded in every
particular with that of the former witness[3].
Catherine Stretham, the elder, deposed that between three and four in
the afternoon of the 22nd of January, a man and woman came to her house,
pretending that they wanted to purchase some lace; that she showed them
two or three parcels, to the quality and price of which they objected;
and that in about three minutes after they had left the shop she missed
a tin box, containing a quantity of lace, the value of which she
estimated at fifty pounds.
The prisoner's counsel on this contended, that he could not be legally
convicted, because the indictment positively expressed that _he stole_
the lace _in_ the house, whereas it had been proved in evidence that he
was at a considerable distance outside when the fact was committed. They
allowed that he might be liable to conviction as an accessory before the
fact, or for receiving the property, knowing it to be stolen; but
conceived that he could not be deemed guilty of a capital felony, unless
the indictment declared (as the act directs) that he did _assist_,
_command_, or _hire_.
Lord Raymond, who presided, in summing up the evidence, observed that
the guilt of the prisoner was a point beyond all dispute; but that, as
a similar case was not to be found in the law-books, it became his duty
to act with great caution: he was not perfectly satisfied that the
construction urged by the counsel for the crown could be put upon the
indictment; and, as the life of a fellow-creature was at stake, he
recommended the prisoner to the mercy of the jury, who brought in their
verdict Not Guilty.
Wild was then arraigned on the second indictment, which alleged an
offence committed during his confinement in Newgate. The indictment
being opened by the counsel for the crown, the following clause in an
act passed in the fourth year of the reign of George the First was
ordered to be read:--
"And whereas there are divers persons who have secret acquaintance with
felons, and who make it their business to help persons to their stolen
goods, and by that means gain money from them, which is divided between
them and the felons, whereby they greatly encourage such offenders; be
it therefore enacted by the authority aforesaid, that whenever any
person taketh money or reward, directly or indirectly, under pretence or
upon account of helping any person or persons to any stolen goods or
chattels, every such person so taking money or reward as aforesaid
(unless such person do apprehend or cause to be apprehended such felon
who stole the same, and give evidence against him) shall be guilty of
felony, according to the nature of the felony committed in stealing such
goods, and in such and the same manner as if such offender had stolen
such goods and chattels in the manner, and with such circumstances, as
the same were stolen."
Mrs. Stretham then, having repeated the evidence which she had before
given, went on to state that on the evening of the robbery she went to
the house of the prisoner in order to employ him in recovering the
goods, but that not finding him at home, she advertised them, offering a
reward of fifteen guineas for their return, and promising that no
questions should be asked. The advertisement proved ineffectual, and she
therefore again went to the house of the prisoner, and seeing him, by
his desire she gave an account of the transaction and of the appearance
of the thieves. He promised to inquire after her property, and desired
her to call again in a few days. She did so, and at this second visit he
informed her that he had gained some information respecting her goods,
and expected more; and a man who was present said that he thought that
Kelly, who had been tried for passing plated shillings, was the
offender. The witness again went to the prisoner on the day on which he
was apprehended, and said that she would give twenty-five guineas rather
than not have her lace back; on which he told her not to be in too great
a hurry, for that the people who had stolen the lace were out of town,
and that he should soon cause a disagreement between them, by which he
should secure the property on more easy terms. On the 10th of March, she
received a message, that if she would go to the prisoner in Newgate, and
take ten guineas with her, her lace would be returned to her. She went
to him accordingly, and a porter being called, he gave her a letter,
saying it was addressed to the person to whom he was directed to apply
for the lace, and the porter would accompany her to carry the box home.
She declined going herself, and then the prisoner desired her to give
the money to the porter, who would go for her and fetch the goods, but
said that he could not go without it, for that the people who had the
lace would not give it up without being paid. She gave the money and the
man went away, but in a short time he returned with a box sealed up,
but not the box which she had lost. On opening it, she found that it
contained all her lace except one piece. She asked the prisoner what
satisfaction he expected, when he answered "Not a farthing; I have no
interested views in matters of this kind, but act from a principle of
serving people under misfortune. I hope I shall soon be able to recover
the other piece of lace, and to return you the ten guineas, and perhaps
cause the thief to be apprehended. For the service I can render you I
shall only expect your prayers. I have many enemies, and know not what
will be the consequence of this imprisonment."
The prisoner's counsel argued, that as Murphy had deposed that Wild,
Kelly, and she, were concerned in the felony, the former could by no
means be considered as coming within the description of the act on which
the indictment was founded; for the act in question was not meant to
operate against the actual perpetrators of felony, but to subject such
persons to punishment as held a correspondence with felons.
The counsel for the crown observed, that from the evidence adduced, no
doubt could remain of the prisoner's coming under the meaning of the
act, since it had been proved that he had engaged in combinations with
felons, and had not discovered them.
The judge was of opinion that the case of the prisoner was clearly
within the meaning of the act; for it was plain that he had maintained a
secret correspondence with felons, and received money for restoring
stolen goods to the owners, which money was divided between him and the
felons, whom he did not prosecute. The jury pronounced him guilty, and
he was sentenced to be executed at Tyburn, on Monday the 24th of May,
1725.
When he was under sentence of death, he frequently declared that he
thought the services he had rendered the public in returning the stolen
goods to the owners, and apprehending felons, was so great, as justly to
entitle him to the royal mercy. He said that had he considered his case
as being desperate, he should have taken timely measures for inducing
some powerful friends at Wolverhampton to intercede in his favour; and
that he thought it not unreasonable to entertain hopes of obtaining a
pardon through the interest of some of the dukes, earls, and other
persons of high distinction, who had recovered their property through
his means.
He was observed to be in an unsettled state of mind; and being asked
whether he knew the cause thereof, he said he attributed his disorder to
the many wounds he had received in apprehending felons; and particularly
mentioned two fractures of his skull, and his throat being cut by
Blueskin.
He declined attending divine service in the chapel, excusing himself on
account of his infirmities, and saying that there were many people
highly exasperated against him, and therefore he could not expect but
that his devotions would be interrupted by their insulting behaviour. He
said he had fasted four days, which had greatly increased his weakness.
He asked the Ordinary the meaning of the words "Cursed is every one that
hangeth on a tree;" and what was the state of the soul immediately after
its departure from the body? He was advised to direct his attention to
matters of more importance, and sincerely to repent of the crimes he had
committed.
By his desire the Ordinary administered the sacrament to him; and during
the ceremony he appeared to be somewhat attentive and devout. The
evening preceding the day on which he suffered he inquired of the
Ordinary whether suicide could be deemed a crime; and after some
conversation, he pretended to be convinced that self-murder was a most
impious offence against the Almighty; but about two in the morning, he
endeavoured to put an end to his life by drinking laudanum. On account
of the largeness of the dose, and his having fasted for a considerable
time, no other effect was produced than drowsiness, or a kind of
stupefaction. The situation of Wild being observed by two of his
fellow-prisoners, they advised him to rouse his spirits, that he might
be able to attend to the devotional exercises; and taking him by the
arms, they obliged him to walk, which he could not have done alone,
being much afflicted with the gout. The exercise revived him a little;
but he presently became exceedingly pale; then grew very faint; a
profuse sweating ensued; and soon afterwards his stomach discharged the
greatest part of the laudanum. Though he was somewhat recovered, he was
nearly in a state of insensibility; and in this situation he was put
into the cart and conveyed to Tyburn. In his way to the place of
execution the populace treated him with remarkable severity, incessantly
pelting him with stones and dirt.
Upon his arrival at Tyburn he appeared to be much recovered from the
effects of the poison; and the executioner informed him that a
reasonable time would be allowed him for preparing himself for the
important change that he must soon experience. He continued sitting some
time in the cart; but the populace were at length so enraged at the
indulgence shown him, that they outrageously called to the executioner
to perform the duties of his office, violently threatening him with
instant death if he presumed any longer to delay. He judged it prudent
to comply with their demands; and when he began to prepare for the
execution, the popular clamour ceased.
About two o'clock on the following morning the remains of Wild were
interred in St. Pancras churchyard; but a few nights afterwards the body
was taken up (for the use of the surgeons, as it was supposed). At
midnight a hearse and six was waiting at the end of Fig Lane, where the
coffin was found the next day.
Wild, had by the woman he married at Wolverhampton a son about nineteen
years old, who came to London a short time before the execution of his
father. He was a youth of so violent and ungovernable a disposition,
that it was judged right to confine him during the time of the
execution, lest he should excite the people to some tumult. He
subsequently went to one of the West India colonies.
The adventures of Wild are of a nature to attract great attention, from
the multiplicity and variety of the offences of which he was guilty. It
has been hinted, that his career of crime having been suffered to
continue so long was in some degree attributable to the services which
he performed for the government, in arresting and gaining information
against the disaffected, during the troubles which characterised the
early part of the reign of George I.; but whatever may have been the
cause of his being so long unmolested, whatever supineness on the part
of the authorities, whether wilful or not, may have procured for him so
continued a reign of uninterrupted wickedness, it cannot be doubted that
the fact of his long safety tended so much to the demoralisation of
society, as that many years passed before it would assume that tone,
which the exertions of a felon like Wild were so calculated to destroy.
The existing generation cannot but congratulate itself upon the
excellence of the improvements which have been made in our laws, and the
admirable effect which they have produced; as well as upon the
exceedingly active vigilance of the existing police, by whom crime,
instead of its being supported and fostered, is checked and prevented.
CATHERINE HAYES.
BURNT ALIVE FOR THE MURDER OF HER HUSBAND.
The case of this atrocious criminal only finds a parallel in that of the
monster of modern crime--Greenacre.
Catherine Hayes was the daughter of a poor man named Hall, who lived at
Birmingham, and having remained with her parents until she was fifteen
years of age, a dispute then arose, in consequence of which she set off
for London. On her way she met with some officers, who, remarking that
her person was engaging, persuaded her to accompany them to their
quarters at Great Ombersley, in Worcestershire. Having remained with
them some time, she strolled on into Warwickshire, and was there hired
into the house of Mr. Hayes, a respectable farmer. An intimacy soon
sprang up between her and the son of her master, which ended in a
private marriage taking place at Worcester; and an attempt, on the part
of the officers, to entrap young Hayes into enlisting, rendered it
necessary to disclose the whole affair to the father. He felt that it
would be useless now to oppose his son, in consequence of what had taken
place, and he in consequence set him up in business as a carpenter. Mrs.
Hayes, however, was of a restless disposition, and persuaded him to
enlist, which he did; and his regiment being ordered to the Isle of
Wight, his wife followed him. His father bought him off at an expense of
60_l._, and now gave him property to the amount of about 26_l._ per
annum; but after the marriage had been solemnised about six years, Mrs.
Hayes prevailed on her husband to come to London. On their arrival in
the metropolis, Mr. Hayes took a house, part of which he let in
lodgings, and opened a shop in the chandlery and coal trade, in which he
was as successful as he could have wished, but exclusive of his profit
by shop keeping, he acquired a great deal of money by lending small sums
on pledges, for at this time the trade of pawnbroking was followed by
any one at pleasure, and was subjected to no regulation.
Mr. Hayes soon found that the disposition of his wife was not of such a
nature as to promise him much peace. The chief pleasure of her life
consisted in creating and encouraging quarrels among her neighbours.
Sometimes she would speak of her husband, to his acquaintance, in terms
of great tenderness and respect; and at other times she would represent
him to her female associates as a compound of everything that was
contemptible in human nature. On a particular occasion, she told a woman
that she should think it no more sin to murder him than to kill a dog.
At length her husband thought it prudent to remove to Tottenham-court-road,
where he carried on his former business, but he then again removed to
Tyburn-road (now Oxford-street). He soon amassed what he considered a
sufficient sum to enable him to retire from business, and he
accordingly took lodgings near the same spot. A supposed son of Mrs.
Hayes, by her former connexion, who went by the name of Billings, lived
in the same house, and he and Mrs. Hayes were in the habit of feasting
themselves at the expense of the husband of the latter. During his
temporary absence from town, her proceedings were so extravagant, that
the neighbours deemed it right to make her husband aware of the fact;
and on his return he remonstrated with her on the subject, when a
quarrel took place, which ended in a fight. It is supposed that at this
time the design of murdering Mr. Hayes was formed by his wife, and it
was not long before she obtained a seconder in her horrid project in the
person of her reputed son. At this time a person named Thomas Wood came
to town from Worcestershire, and seeking out Hayes, persuaded him to
give him a lodging, as he was afraid of being impressed. After he had
been in town only a few days, Mrs. Hayes informed him of the plot which
existed, and endeavoured to persuade him to join her and her son. He was
at first shocked at the notion of murdering his friend and benefactor,
and rejected the proposals; but at length Mrs. Hayes, alleging that her
husband was an atheist, and had already been guilty of murdering two of
his own children, one of whom he had buried under an apple-tree, and the
other under a pear-tree, and besides urging that 1500_l._, which would
fall to her at his death, should be placed at the disposal of her
accomplices, he consented. Shortly after this, Wood went out of town for
a few days, but on his return he found Mrs. Hayes, and her son, and
husband, drinking together, and apparently in good humour. He joined
them at the desire of Hayes and the latter boasting that he was not
drunk, although they had had a guinea's worth of liquor among them,
Billings proposed that he should try whether he could drink half a dozen
bottles of mountain wine, without getting tipsy, and promised that if he
did so, he would pay for the wine. The proposal was agreed to, and the
three murderers went off to procure the liquor. On their way, it was
agreed among them that this was the proper opportunity to carry their
design into execution, and having procured the wine, for which Mrs.
Hayes paid half a guinea, Mr. Hayes began to drink it, while his
intended assassins regaled themselves with beer. When he had taken a
considerable quantity of the wine, he danced about the room like a man
distracted, and at length finished the whole quantity: but, not being
yet in a state of absolute stupefaction, his wife sent for another
bottle, which he also drank, and then fell senseless on the floor.
Having lain some time in this condition, he got, with much difficulty,
into another room, and threw himself on a bed. When he was asleep, his
wife told her associates that this was the time to execute their plan,
as there was no fear of any resistance on his part, and accordingly
Billings went into the room with a hatchet, with which he struck Hayes
so violently that he fractured his skull. At this time Hayes's feet hung
off the bed; and the torture arising from the blow made him stamp
repeatedly on the floor, which, being heard by Wood, he also went into
the room, and, taking the hatchet out of Billings' hand, gave the poor
man two more blows, which effectually despatched him. A woman, named
Springate, who lodged in the room over that where the murder was
committed, hearing the noise occasioned by Hayes's stamping, imagined
that the parties might have quarrelled in consequence of their
intoxication; and going down stairs, she told Mrs. Hayes that the noise
had awakened her husband, her child, and herself. Catherine, however,
had a ready answer to this: she said some company had visited them, and
were grown merry, but they were on the point of taking their leave; and
Mrs. Springate returned to her room well satisfied. The murderers now
consulted on the best manner of disposing of the body, so as most
effectually to prevent detection. Mrs. Hayes proposed to cut off the
head, because, if the body was found whole, it would be more likely to
be known, and the villains agreeing to this proposition, she fetched a
pail, lighted a candle, and all of them went into the room. The men then
drew the body partly off the bed, and Billings supported the head, while
Wood, with his pocket-knife, cut it off, and the infamous woman held the
pail to receive it, being as careful as possible that the floor might
not be stained with the blood. This being done, they emptied the blood
out of the pail into a sink by the window, and poured several pails of
water after it. When the head was cut off, the woman recommended the
boiling it till the flesh should part from the bones; but the other
parties thought this operation would take up too much time, and
therefore advised the throwing it into the Thames, in expectation that
it would be carried off by the tide, and would sink. This agreed to, the
head was put into the pail, and Billings took it under his great-coat,
being accompanied by Wood; but, making a noise in going down stairs,
Mrs. Springate called, and asked what was the matter? To this Mrs. Hayes
answered that her husband was going a journey; and, with incredible
dissimulation, affected to take leave of him, pretending great concern
that he was under a necessity of going at so late an hour, and Wood and
Billings passed out of the house unnoticed. They first went to
Whitehall, where they intended to have thrown in the head; but the gates
being shut, they went to a wharf near the Horse Ferry, Westminster.
Billings putting down the pail, Wood threw the head into the dock,
expecting it would have been carried away by the stream; but at this
time the tide was ebbing, and a lighterman, who was then in his vessel,
heard something fall into the dock, but it was too dark for him to
distinguish any object. The head being thus disposed of, the murderers
returned home, and were admitted by Mrs. Hayes, without the knowledge of
the other lodgers. The body next became the object of their attention,
and Mrs. Hayes proposed that it should be packed up in a box and buried.
The plan was determined upon immediately, and a box was purchased, but
being found too small, the body was dismembered so as to admit of its
being inclosed in it, and was left until night should favour its being
carried off. The inconvenience of carrying a box was, however,
immediately discovered, and the pieces of the mangled body were
therefore taken out, and, being wrapped up in a blanket, were carried by
Billings and Wood to a field in Marylebone, and there thrown into a
pond.
In the meantime the head had been discovered, and the circumstance of a
murder having been committed being undoubted, every means was taken to
secure the discovery of its perpetrators. The magistrates, with this
view, directed that the head should be washed clean, and the hair
combed; after which it was put on a pole in the churchyard of St.
Margaret, Westminster, that an opportunity might be afforded for its
being viewed by the public[4]. Thousands went to witness this
extraordinary spectacle; and there were not wanting those among the
crowd, who expressed their belief among themselves, that the head
belonged to Hayes. Their suspicions were mentioned by some of them to
Billings, but he ridiculed the notion, and declared that Hayes was well,
and was gone out of town only for a few days. When the head had been
exhibited during four days, it was deemed expedient that measures should
be taken to preserve it; and Mr. Westbrook, a chemist, in consequence,
received directions to put it into spirits. Mrs. Hayes soon afterwards
changed her lodgings, and took the woman Springate with her, paying the
rent which she owed, Wood and Billings also accompanying her; and her
chief occupation now was that of collecting the debts due to her
husband; by means of which she continued to supply her diabolical
assistants with money and clothes. Amongst the incredible numbers of
people who resorted to see the head was a poor woman from Kingsland,
whose husband had been absent from the very time that the murder was
perpetrated. After a minute survey of the head, she believed it to be
that of her husband, though she could not be absolutely positive, but
her suspicions were so strong, that strict search was made after the
body, on a presumption that the clothes might help her to ascertain it.
Meanwhile, Mr. Hayes not being visible for a considerable time, his
friends could not help making inquiry after him; and a Mr. Ashby, in
particular, who had been on the most friendly terms with him, called on
Mrs. Hayes, and demanded what had become of her husband? Catherine
pretended to account for his absence by communicating the following
intelligence, as a matter that must be kept profoundly secret:--"Some
time ago," said she, "he happened to have a dispute with a man, and from
words they came to blows, so that Mr. Hayes killed him. The wife of the
deceased made up the affair, on Mr. Hayes's promising to pay her a
certain annual allowance; but he not being able to make it good, she
threatened to inform against him, on which he has absconded." This story
was, however, by no means satisfactory to Mr. Ashby, who asked her if
the head that had been exposed on the pole was that of the man who had
been killed by her husband? She readily answered in the negative, adding
that the party had been buried entire; and that the widow had her
husband's bond for the payment of fifteen pounds a year. Ashby inquired
to what part of the world Mr. Hayes was gone; and she said to Portugal,
in company with some gentlemen; but she had yet received no letter from
him. The whole of this detail seeming highly improbable to Mr. Ashby,
he went to Mr. Longmore, a gentleman nearly related to Hayes; and it was
agreed between them that Mr. Longmore should call on Catherine, and have
some conversation with her upon the same subject. Her story to this
gentleman differed in its details from that which she had related to Mr.
Ashby; and Mr. Eaton, also a friend of Mr. Hayes, being consulted, they
determined first to examine the head, and then, if their suspicions were
confirmed, to communicate their belief to the magistrates. Having
accordingly minutely examined the head, and come to the conclusion that
it must be that of their friend Hayes, they proceeded to Mr. Lambert, a
magistrate, who immediately issued warrants for the apprehension of Mrs.
Hayes and Mrs. Springate, as well as of Wood and Billings, and proceeded
to execute them personally. Going accordingly to the house in which they
all lived, they informed the landlord of their business, and went
immediately to the door of Mrs. Hayes' room. On the magistrate's
rapping, the woman asked, "Who is there?" and he commanded her to open
the door directly, or it should be broken open. To this she replied,
that she would open it as soon as she had put on her clothes; and she
did so in little more than a minute, when the justice ordered the
parties present to take her into custody. At this time Billings was
sitting on the side of the bed, bare-legged. Some of the parties
remaining below, to secure the prisoners, Mr. Longmore went up stairs
with the justice, and took Mrs. Springate into custody; and they were
all conducted together to the house of Mr. Lambert. This magistrate
having examined the prisoners separately for a considerable time, and
all of them positively persisting in their ignorance of anything
respecting the murder, they were severally committed for re-examination
on the following day, before Mr. Lambert and other magistrates. Mrs.
Springate was sent to the Gate-house, Billings to New Prison, and Mrs.
Hayes to Tothill-fields Bridewell. When the peace-officers, attended by
Longmore, went the next day to fetch up Catherine to her examination,
she earnestly desired to see the head; and it being thought prudent to
grant her request, she was carried to the surgeon's; and no sooner was
the head shown to her than she exclaimed, "Oh, it is my dear husband's
head! It is my dear husband's head!" She now took the glass in her arms,
and shed many tears while she embraced it. Mr. Westbrook told her that
he would take the head out of the glass, that she might have a more
perfect view of it, and be certain that it was the same; and the surgeon
doing as he had said, she seemed to be greatly affected, and having
kissed it several times, she begged to be indulged with a lock of the
hair; and on Mr. Westbrook expressing his apprehension that she had had
too much of his _blood_ already, she fell into a fit. On her recovery
she was conducted to Mr. Lambert's, to take her examination with the
other parties.
It is somewhat remarkable that it was on the morning of this day that
the body was discovered. As a gentleman and his servant were crossing
the fields at Marylebone, they observed something lying in a ditch, and,
on going nearer to it, they perceived that it was some parts of a human
body. Assistance being procured, the whole of the body was found except
the head; and information of the circumstance was conveyed to Mr.
Lambert at the very moment at which he was examining the prisoners. The
suspicions which already existed were strengthened by this circumstance,
and Mrs. Hayes was committed to Newgate for trial; the committal of
Billings and Mrs. Springate, however, being deferred until the
apprehension of Wood.
The latter soon after coming into town and riding up to Mrs. Hayes'
lodgings, was directed to go to the house of Mr. Longmore, where he was
told he would find Mrs. Hayes; but the brother of Longmore standing at
the door, he immediately seized him, and caused him to be carried before
Mr. Lambert. He underwent an examination; but, refusing to make any
confession, he was sent to Tothill-fields' Bridewell. On his arrival at
the prison he was informed that the body had been found: and, not
doubting but that the whole affair would come to light, he begged that
he might be carried back to the justice's house. This being made known
to Mr. Lambert, the prisoner was brought up, and he then acknowledged
the particulars of the murder, and signed his confession. This wretched
man owned that since the perpetration of the crime he had been terrified
at the sight of every one he met, that he had not experienced a moment's
peace, and that his mind had been distracted with the most violent
agitation.
His commitment to Newgate was immediately made out, and he was conducted
to that prison under the escort of eight soldiers, with fixed bayonets,
whose whole efforts were necessary to protect him from the violence of
the mob. A Mr. Mercer visiting Mrs. Hayes in prison, she begged him to
go to Billings and urge him to confess the whole truth, as no advantage,
she said, could be expected to arise from a denial of that which was too
clearly proved to admit of denial; and he being carried before Justice
Lambert again, gave an account precisely concurring with that of Wood.
Mrs. Springate, whose innocence was now distinctly proved, was set at
liberty.
At the trial Wood and Billings confessed themselves guilty of the crime
alleged against them; but Mrs. Hayes, flattering herself that as she had
said nothing, she had a chance of escape, put herself upon her trial;
but the jury found her guilty. The prisoners being afterwards brought to
the bar to receive sentence, Mrs. Hayes entreated that she might not be
burned, according to the then law of petty treason, alleging that she
was not guilty, as she did not strike the fatal blow; but she was
informed by the court that the sentence awarded by the law could not be
dispensed with.
After conviction the behaviour of Wood was uncommonly penitent and
devout; but while in the condemned hold he was seized with a violent
fever, and, being attended by a clergyman to assist him in his
devotions, he said he was ready to suffer death, under every mark of
ignominy, as some atonement for the atrocious crime he had committed;
but he died in prison, and thus defeated the final execution of the law.
Billings behaved with apparent sincerity, acknowledging the justice of
his sentence, and saying that no punishment could be commensurate with
the crime of which he had been guilty. The behaviour of Mrs. Hayes was
somewhat similar to her former conduct. Having an intention to destroy
herself, she procured a phial of strong poison, which was casually
tasted by a woman who was confined with her, and her design thereby
discovered and frustrated. On the day of her death she received the
sacrament, and was drawn on a sledge to the place of execution. Billings
was executed in the usual manner, and hung in chains, not far from the
pond in which Mr. Hayes's body was found, in Marylebone Fields; but when
the wretched woman had finished her devotions, in pursuance of her
sentence an iron chain put round her body, with which she was fixed to
a stake near the gallows. On those occasions, when women were burned for
petty treason, it was customary to strangle them, by means of a rope
passed round the neck, and pulled by the executioner, so that they were
dead before the flames reached the body. But this woman was literally
burned alive; for the executioner letting go the rope sooner than usual,
in consequence of the flames reaching his hands, the fire burned
fiercely round her, and the spectators beheld her pushing away the
faggots, while she rent the air with her cries and lamentations. Other
faggots were instantly thrown on her; but she survived amidst the flames
for a considerable time, and her body was not perfectly reduced to ashes
in less than three hours[5]. These malefactors suffered at Tyburn, May
9, 1726.
MARGARET DIXON.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this criminal is more remarkable for her resuscitation after
her execution, than for the circumstances attending the offence of which
she was convicted.
The culprit was the daughter of poor parents living at Musselburgh,
about five miles from Edinburgh, a place almost entirely inhabited by
fishermen and persons employed in the manufacture of salt. When she
reached the age of womanhood, she was married, but her husband, who was
a fisherman, being impressed, he was carried off to sea. Deprived of her
lawful protector, she formed an illicit connexion with another man; and
it was for the murder of the offspring of this acquaintance that she was
eventually sentenced to undergo the severest penalty of the law. It
appears that she was remarked to be pregnant, and was accused by her
neighbours of the fact, but she steadily denied her guilt. At length the
body of a newly-born infant was found near the place of her residence,
and as there was no way of accounting for its existence, except that
suggested by the pregnancy of Mrs. Dixon, she was taken into custody,
and being tried was found guilty and ordered for execution.
After her condemnation she behaved in the most penitent manner,
confessed that she had been guilty of many sins, and even owned that she
had departed from the line of duty to her husband; but she constantly
and steadily denied that she had murdered her child, or had even formed
an idea of so horrid a crime. She owned that the fear of being exposed
to the ridicule of her neighbours had tempted her to deny that she was
pregnant; and she said that, being suddenly seized with the pains of
child-birth, she was unable to procure the assistance of her neighbours;
and that a state of insensibility ensued, so that it was impossible she
should know what became of the infant.
At the place of execution she persisted in her protestations of
innocence, and Jack Ketch having performed his office, the body hung the
usual time, and was then cut down and delivered to the friends of the
deceased. By them it was put into a coffin, and sent in a cart to be
buried at her native place; but the weather being sultry, the persons
who had it in their care stopped to drink at a village called
Peppermill, about two miles from Edinburgh. While they were refreshing
themselves, one of them perceived the lid of the coffin move, and
uncovering it, the woman sat upright, to the infinite alarm of the
spectators. The mystery being soon explained; a fellow, who was present,
had sufficient sagacity to bleed her; and in the course of the ensuing
day she was sufficiently recovered to be able to walk home to her old
residence at Musselburgh.
By the Scottish law, not only was she released by the execution from the
consequences of the crime of which she had been found guilty, but from
the bonds of matrimony also; but her husband having by this time
returned from sea, he was publicly re-married to his old wife, within a
few days after she had been hanged. A suit was subsequently brought by
the Lord Advocate against the sheriff for omitting to perform his
office; but as it turned out that the escape of the convict was not
owing to any neglect on his part, but to some peculiar formation of the
neck of the woman, the prosecution was abandoned.
The date of this transaction was the month of November, 1728; and the
subject of this most remarkable escape was living in the year 1753, when
it is due to her to state that she still persisted in her declarations
of innocence.
JOHN GOW AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR PIRACY.
The principal in this list of offenders was named John Gow, and was a
native of one of the Orkney Islands. Having chosen a seafaring life, he
was appointed second mate of a vessel going to Santa Cruz. Some
complaints having been made before the vessel quitted port, of the
insufficiency of the provisions given to the men, the captain took
little notice of them; and it was not until he had quitted the shore
some days, that he learned, too late, the mistake of which he had been
guilty. The feelings of discontent which had been already exhibited were
soon fanned into a flame, and at length it became necessary for the
captain, chief mate, and surgeon to arm themselves. Gow, whose duties as
second mate also included those of gunner, was ordered to clean the
small-arms necessary for this purpose; but being a party to a
conspiracy, which existed among his shipmates to seize the vessel, he
communicated the order to his fellows, and it was determined to put
their project into execution forthwith. Between nine and ten o'clock at
night, the signal was given, and the conspirators going to the cabins of
the chief mate, surgeon, and supercargo, cut their throats while they
were asleep. The captain ran on deck to ascertain the cause of a noise
which he heard, and was immediately seized, and, although he made a
desperate resistance, was despatched in as short a time as his
unfortunate brother officers had been. The bodies of the murdered men
were then thrown overboard, and Gow was selected as the new captain.
Assembling his associates on deck, their determination to commence
pirates was soon formed; and some of the seamen who had hesitated to
become parties to the diabolical murders of their officers, were forced
to join the crew in their piratical proceedings on pain of death. A
fellow named Williams, of a most brutal disposition, was chosen as
lieutenant; and the name of the vessel, which had been the George
Galley, was changed to the more bloody one of Revenge. Having mounted
several guns, they steered towards Spain and Portugal, in expectation of
making a capture of wine, in a supply of which they were greatly
deficient. They soon made prize of an English vessel laden with fish,
bound from Newfoundland to Cadiz; but having no use for the cargo, they
took out the captain and four men, and sunk the ship.
One of the seamen whom they took from the captured vessel was named
James Belvin, a man admirably calculated for their purpose, as he was by
nature cruel, and by practice hardened in that cruelty; and being
willing to turn pirate, he was thought a valuable acquisition to the
crew, as several of the others appeared to act from motives of fear
rather than of inclination.
The next vessel taken by the pirates was a Scotch ship bound to Italy
with pickled herrings; but this cargo, like the former, being of no use
to them, they sunk the vessel, having first taken out the men, arms,
ammunition, and stores.
After having cruised about for a considerable time without any further
successes, their supply of water ran so short, that they felt it
absolutely necessary to procure a fresh stock. They sailed, therefore,
to a Portuguese settlement; and, on their arrival, they sent some
presents to the governor, intimating their wants. The governor treating
the messengers with civility, proceeded on board the vessel, and he was
there received by the pirates with every mark of respect and attention.
The boat, which had been sent for supplies, however, not returning, the
captain began to suspect that his men were not safe, and threatened to
murder his visitors unless his demands were complied with. The governor
was terrified at this threat; but soon procured his liberty by assenting
to the wishes of his entertainer. They afterwards made several prizes,
in one of which they sent away the Scotch captain and his crew; but
shortly afterwards meeting with a French vessel of superior power, the
captain refused to give chase to or to engage it. Williams, the
lieutenant, upbraided him for what he termed his cowardice, and a
violent quarrel taking place, the lieutenant endeavoured to shoot his
captain. The crew agreeing in opinion with the latter as to the
impropriety of fighting against a force so superior to their own,
Williams was soon secured, and placed among the other prisoners. The
French vessel was permitted to continue on her way; and soon afterwards
meeting with a ship bound for Bristol, they robbed her of her stores and
ammunition, and putting their prisoners and Williams on board of her,
the latter of whom they directed to be given up to the British
authorities, they allowed her to proceed on her voyage.
As soon as she had left them, Gow and his crew began to reflect on their
situation. They were apprehensive that as soon as intelligence of their
proceedings reached Portugal, some ships would be sent in pursuit of
them; and they called a kind of council, in which every one gave his
opinion.
Gow proposed to sail to the Isles of Orkney, on the north of Scotland,
where he said, they might dispose of their effects, and retire and live
on the produce; and in order to induce his people to comply with this
proposal, he represented that they were much in want of water, and
provisions of every kind; that their danger would be great if they
continued longer on the high seas; and, above all, that it was highly
necessary for them to repair their ship, which they could not do with
any degree of safety in a southern port.
Convinced by these arguments, they proceeded northwards, and soon
reached the Orkney Islands; and entering one of the bays there they
proceeded, as well as they were able, to refit the ship. This step was,
however, fatal to their enterprise; for one of their companions, who had
unwillingly joined in the piratical proceedings of the crew, escaped,
and gave information of all that had occurred. Ten others followed his
example, and seized the long-boat; but reaching Edinburgh, they were
confined on suspicion of being pirates.
Notwithstanding these alarming circumstances, Gow was so careless of his
own safety, that he did not put immediately to sea, but resolved to
plunder the houses of the gentlemen on the coast, to furnish himself
with fresh provisions.
In pursuance of this resolution, he sent his boatswain and ten armed men
to the house of Mr. Honeyman, high-sheriff of the county; and the master
being absent, the servants opened the door without suspicion. Nine of
the gang went into the house to search for treasure, while the tenth was
left to guard the door. Mrs. Honeyman, running to the door, saw the man
who stood guard there, whom she asked what could be the meaning of the
outrage; to which he replied, that they were pirates, and had come
thither only to ransack the house. Recollecting that she had a
considerable quantity of gold in a bag, she returned and put it in her
lap, and ran by the man at the door, who had no idea but that the wish
to preserve her life occasioned her haste. The boatswain missing this
part of the expected treasure, declared that he would destroy the family
writings; but this being overheard by Miss Honeyman, she threw the
writings out of the window, and, jumping out after them, escaped unhurt
and carried them off. In the interim the pirates seized the linen,
plate, and other valuable articles, and then walked in triumph to their
boat, compelling one of the servants to play before them on the
bagpipes. They afterwards carried off two women whom they met; and
detaining them on board during two days, so ill-treated them, that one
expired soon after they had put them on shore.
This atrocious offence was no sooner committed than they sailed to
Calf-Sound, with an intention of robbing the house of Mr. Fea, who had
been an old school-fellow with Gow. This house was the rather pitched
upon, as Gow supposed that Mr. Fea could not have yet heard of the
transactions at Mr. Honeyman's; but in this he was mistaken, although
Fea could not oppose him, on account of the indisposition of his wife.
Mr. Fea's house was situated near the sea-shore; he had only six
servants at home when the pirates appeared off the coast; and these were
by no means equal to sustain a contest. It may not be improper to
remark, that the tide runs so high among these islands, and beats with
such force against the rocks, that the navigation is frequently attended
with great danger. Gow, who had not boats to assist him in an emergency,
and was unskilled in the navigation of these seas, made a blunder in
turning into the bay of Calf-Sound; for, standing too near the point of
a small island called the Calf, the vessel was in the utmost danger of
being run on shore. Having cast his anchor too near the shore, so that
the wind could not bring him off, he sent a boat with a letter to Mr.
Fea, requesting that he would lend him another boat, to assist him in
heaving off the ship, by carrying out an anchor; and assuring him that
he would not do the least injury to any individual.
As Gow's messenger did not see Mr. Fea's boat, the latter gave him an
evasive answer; and on the approach of night ordered his servants to
sink his own boat, and hide the sails and rigging. While they were
obeying this order five of the pirates came on shore in the boat, and
proceeded, doubly armed, towards the house. Mr. Fea advanced towards
them with an assurance of friendship, and begged they would not enter
the house, for that his wife was exceedingly ill; and the sight of them
might probably deprive her of life. The boatswain replied that they had
no design to terrify Mrs. Fea, or any other person; but that the most
rigorous treatment must be expected if the use of the boat was denied
them. Mr. Fea represented how dangerous it would be for him to assist
them, on account of the reports circulated to their discredit; but he
offered to entertain them at an adjacent ale-house; and they accepted
the invitation, as they observed that he had no company. In the mean
while, Mr. Fea ordered his servants to call him hastily out of the
company; and these orders being exactly complied with, when he had left
the pirates, he directed six men, well armed, to station themselves
behind a hedge; and that if they observed him to come alone with the
boatswain, instantly to seize his companion; but if he came with all the
five desperadoes, he would walk forward, so as to give them an
opportunity of firing at them without their wounding him.
He then returned to the company, whom he invited to his house, on the
promise of their behaving peaceably, and said he would make them
heartily welcome. They expressed a readiness to attend him, in the hope
of getting the boat; but he told them he would rather have the
boatswain's company first, and would afterwards send for his companions.
This being agreed to, the boatswain set forward with two brace of
pistols, and walking with Mr. Fea till they came to the hedge where the
men were concealed, that gentleman seized him by the collar, while the
others took him into custody before he had time to make any defence. The
boatswain called aloud for his men; but Mr. Fea forcing a handkerchief
into his mouth, bound him hand and foot, and then left one of his own
people to guard him, while he and the rest went back to the
public-house.
There being two doors to the house, they went some to the one, and some
to the other; and rushing in at once made prisoners of the other four
men before they had time to have recourse to their arms for defence. The
pirates being thus in custody, were sent to an adjacent village, and
separately confined; and in the interim Mr. Fea sent messengers round
the island to acquaint the inhabitants with what had been done; to
desire them to haul their boats on the beach, that the pirates should
not swim to and steal them; and to request that no person would venture
to row within reach of the pirates' guns.
The vessel now got into a position of still greater difficulty, and in
order to get it out to sea some assistance was absolutely requisite.
Gow's greatest efforts were therefore made to induce Mr. Fea to render
him some aid; and the latter, by holding out promises of assistance,
eventually succeeded in getting the whole of the piratical crew on
shore, and in securing them. They were subsequently conveyed to London,
where, on their being examined, five of them were admitted as witnesses,
while the rest were committed for trial, along with their old associate
Williams, who had been conveyed to England by the master of the Bristol
ship. Gow, Williams, and six others, were convicted and received
sentence of death; while the remainder, who appeared to have been the
victims, rather than the companions of the others, escaped.
The behaviour of Gow from his first commitment was reserved and morose.
He considered himself as an assured victim to the justice of the laws,
nor entertained any hope of being admitted an evidence, as Mr. Fea had
hinted to him that he might be. When brought to trial he refused to
plead, in consequence of which he was sentenced to be pressed to death
in the usual manner. When the officer, however, was about to inflict
this punishment, he begged to be taken back to the bar, and having there
pleaded Not Guilty, he was convicted on the same evidence as his
accomplices.
Gow, Williams, and six others, were hanged at Execution Dock, on the
11th of August, 1729.
COLONEL FRANCIS CHARTERIS.
CONVICTED OF RAPE.
The name of Charteris will long be remembered with loathing and
detestation, as having belonged to a villain, whose profligacy, at the
time at which he lived, rendered him an object of universal disgust and
hatred.
The execrable subject of this narrative was born at Amisfield, in
Scotland, where he was heir to an estate which his ancestors had
possessed above four hundred years. He was related to many of the first
families among the nobility of the north; and having received a liberal
education, he selected the profession of arms, as that of which he
desired to become a member. He served first under the Duke of
Marlborough, when he successively held the ranks of ensign in a foot
regiment, and cornet of dragoons; but being a most expert gamester, and
of a disposition uncommonly avaricious, he made his knowledge of
gambling subservient to his love of money; and while the army was in
winter-quarters, he stripped many of his brother-officers of all their
property by his skill at cards and dice. His villany, however, did not
end there, for when he had defrauded his companions of all they
possessed, he would lend them their own money back, at a usurious rate
of interest, taking an assignment of their commissions as security for
the payment of the debts.
John Duke of Argyle and the Earl of Stair were at this time young men in
the army; and being determined that the inconsiderate officers should
not be thus ruined by the artifices of Charteris, they applied to the
Earl of Orkney, who was also in the army then quartered at Brussels,
representing the destruction that must ensue to young men serving in the
army, if Charteris were permitted to continue the line, of conduct which
he had adopted unchecked.
The Earl of Orkney, anxious for the credit of the army in general, and
his countrymen in particular, represented the state of the case to the
Duke of Marlborough, who gave orders that Charteris should be put under
arrest and tried by court-martial. The court was composed of an equal
number of English and Scotch officers, in order that the accused might
have no reason to complain of his trial; and after a full hearing of all
the circumstances against him, he was sentenced to return the money
which he had obtained by his guilty artifices, to be deprived of his
commission, and his sword having been broken, to be drummed out of the
regiment.
This sentence having been carried out to its fullest extent, the
degraded officer returned to Scotland; but there, by means of the most
servile submission and the use of the money which he possessed, he
procured for himself a new commission in a regiment of horse, in which
he was eventually advanced to the rank of colonel.
The lesson which he had received, one would have thought would have been
sufficient to deter him from a renewal of those artifices in the
employment of which he had been detected; but every day served to
furnish him with new victims among the young men of rank and fashion, to
whom, by his standing in the army, he contrived to procure
introductions. Nor was his character infamous only on account of the
dishonesty of his proceedings, but he soon obtained an unenviable
notoriety on account of the unprincipled boldness with which he
conducted his libidinous amours. Agents were employed, whose duty it was
to procure new subjects for the horrid desires of their master, and the
most extraordinary and unhallowed devices were employed by them to
secure the object which they had in view. Public disgust was excited in
the highest degree by the open daring with which these proceedings were
carried on, and at length the name and character of this abominable
libertine became so notorious as to render him the object of universal
detestation and disgust.
Among other unfortunate young women who fell into the hands of this
villain, was one whose name was Anne Bond. She was a girl of respectable
connexions, and being in search of employment as a servant, her bad
fortune threw her into the way of the agents of Charteris. She was
possessed of considerable personal attractions, and she was employed
under a representation that her master was a Colonel Harvey. A few days,
however, served to inform her of the name of the person into whose hands
she had fallen. Her master professed to behave towards her with great
kindness and consideration; but within a week after she had entered his
employment, he made to her a proposition of a most disgusting nature.
She repelled the foul temptation, and her fears being alarmed by the
circumstance, she was confirmed in a determination, at which she had
nearly arrived, to quit the service in which she was employed, by
hearing on the following day that her master was no other than the
Colonel Charteris of whose character she, in common with the world, had
heard so much. She therefore immediately acquainted the housekeeper with
her intention to leave the house; but the colonel having been informed
of the circumstance, he behaved towards her with great violence, and
threatened that if she dared to run away, he would shoot her. He then
ordered the other servants to take care that she did not escape, and on
the following day proceeded to the accomplishment of the design by
force, in which he had failed to succeed by stratagem. He ordered her to
be sent into the parlour by the clerk of the kitchen, and then desiring
her to stir the fire, he threw her down, and having stopped her mouth
with his nightcap, he completed an offence which subjected him to
capital punishment. The girl, on recovering her position, threatened to
prosecute him, and then he beat her most unmercifully with a horsewhip,
and calling the clerk of the kitchen, bid him turn her out of doors,
alleging that she had robbed him of thirty guineas. His orders having
been directly obeyed, the girl proceeded forthwith to prefer an
indictment for the assault which had been committed; but the Grand Jury
finding that the colonel had, in reality, been guilty of a capital
offence, they at once returned a true bill on that charge.
Colonel Charteris was immediately taken into custody for the crime
alleged against him and lodged in Newgate, where he was loaded with
heavy fetters; but having, through the instrumentality of his friends,
procured a writ of _habeas corpus_, he was admitted to bail.
The trial took place at the Old Bailey on the 25th of February, 1730,
when every effort was used to traduce the character of the prosecutrix,
with a view to destroy the force of her evidence; but, happily, her
character was so fair, and there was so little reason to think that she
had any sinister view in the prosecution, that every artifice failed,
and, after a long trial, in which the facts were proved to the
satisfaction of the jury, a verdict of guilty was returned, and the
Colonel received sentence to be executed in the customary form. The same
interest which had before been employed on behalf of this villain was
now again made use of; and upon the settlement of a handsome annuity
upon the prosecutrix, he received a pardon from the King. He soon found,
however, that London was no longer a place in which he could appear,
unless to be pointed at with the finger of scorn; and he retired to
Edinburgh, where, after a lapse of two years, he died in a miserable
manner, the victim of his own dissolute and hateful passions.
His vices were so notorious, that it was not without great difficulty
that his body was committed to the grave. The place appointed for the
reception of his remains was the family vault in the church of the
Greyfriars in Edinburgh; but the mob having assembled, they made a
violent effort to obtain possession of his coffin, with a view to tear
it and its contents to pieces, and committed a variety of other
irregularities, in honest contempt of the detestable character which he
bore. At the time of his death, he was possessed of very large estates
in England and Scotland, the produce of many usurious transactions, to
which he was a party during the latter portion of his life. He was
married to the daughter of Sir Alexander Swinton, of Scotland, by whom
he had one daughter, who was afterwards united to the Earl of Wemyss.
Soon after Charteris was convicted, a fine mezzotinto print of him was
published, representing him standing at the bar of the Old Bailey with
his thumbs tied; at the bottom of which was the following inscription:
Blood!---- must a colonel, with a lord's estate,
Be thus obnoxious to a scoundrel's fate?
Brought to the bar, and sentenced from the bench,
Only for ravishing a country wench?
Shall men of honour meet no more respect?
Shall their diversions thus by laws be check'd?
Shall they be accountable to saucy juries
For this or t'other pleasure?--hell and furies!
What man through villany would run a course,
And ruin families without remorse,
To heap up riches--if, when all is done,
An ignominious death he cannot shun?
A most severe but just description of the character of Charteris was
afterwards written by Dr. Arbuthnot, who published it in the form of an
epitaph, as follows:--
HERE LIETH THE BODY OF
COLONEL DON FRANCISCO,
WHO, WITH AN
INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY,
AND INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY
OF LIFE, PERSISTED, IN SPITE OF
AGE AND INFIRMITY, IN THE PRACTICE OF
EVERY HUMAN VICE, EXCEPTING PRODIGALITY
AND HYPOCRISY; HIS INSATIABLE AVARICE EXEMPTING
HIM FROM THE FIRST, AND HIS MATCHLESS IMPUDENCE FROM
THE LATTER. NOR WAS HE MORE SINGULAR IN THAT UNDEVIATING
VICIOUSNESS OF LIFE THAN SUCCESSFUL IN ACCUMULATING WEALTH,
HAVING, WITHOUT TRUST OF PUBLIC MONEY, BRIBE, WORTH, SERVICE,
TRADE, OR PROFESSION, ACQUIRED, OR RATHER CREATED, A MINISTERIAL ESTATE.
AMONG THE SINGULARITIES OF HIS LIFE AND FORTUNE, BE IT LIKEWISE
COMMEMORATED, THAT HE WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN HIS TIME
WHO WOULD CHEAT WITHOUT THE MASK OF HONESTY;
WHO WOULD RETAIN HIS PRIMEVAL MEANNESS, AFTER
BEING POSSESSED OF 10,000 POUNDS A YEAR;
AND WHO, HAVING DONE EVERY DAY OF
HIS LIFE SOMETHING WORTHY OF
A GIBBET, WAS ONCE CONDEMNED
TO ONE FOR WHAT HE
HAD NOT DONE.
THINK NOT, INDIGNANT READER, HIS LIFE USELESS TO MANKIND.
PROVIDENCE FAVOURED, OR RATHER CONNIVED AT, HIS
EXECRABLE DESIGNS, THAT HE MIGHT REMAIN, TO THIS
AND FUTURE AGES, A CONSPICUOUS PROOF AND
EXAMPLE OF HOW SMALL ESTIMATION
EXORBITANT WEALTH IS HELD IN
THE SIGHT OF THE ALMIGHTY,
BY HIS BESTOWING IT ON
THE MOST UNWORTHY OF ALL THE DESCENDANTS OF ADAM.
SARAH MALCOLM.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This unhappy young woman, who at the period of her death was only
twenty-two years of age, was born of respectable parents, in the county
of Durham, in the year 1711; but her father having, through his
extravagance, spent the whole of the property which he possessed, she
was at length compelled to resort to what is commonly called
"servitude," for the means of subsistence. In this condition for several
years she conducted herself extremely well; but at length being employed
at the Black Horse, a low public-house in Boswell-court, near
Temple-bar, which up to the present day has been constantly the
notorious resort of persons of bad character, she formed connexions of
no very creditable class, by whom she was led on to her ruin. Having at
length quitted the Black Horse, she was recommended as a laundress to
take charge of chambers in the Inns of Court; and amongst those for whom
she there worked, was a Mrs. Lydia Duncomb, a lady nearly eighty years
of age, who occupied a set of chambers in the Temple; Elizabeth
Harrison, aged sixty, and Ann Price, aged seventeen, living with her in
the capacity of servants. This lady being reputed to be very rich, a
scheme was formed by Sarah Malcolm of robbing her chambers; her object
being, it was supposed, by the acquisition of wealth, to make herself a
fitting match for a young man named Alexander, who she hoped would marry
her.
The night of Saturday, 3d February, 1733, was fixed upon by her for the
commission of the robbery; and Martha Tracy, a woman of light character,
her paramour Alexander, and his brother, were to be her assistants in
the execution of the project. Malcolm, by means of her acquaintance with
the chambers, obtained possession of the keys of the outer door in the
course of the day, and at night the robbery was effected, but with it
the murder also of Mrs. Duncomb and her servants Harrison and Price. On
the Sunday morning some surprise was excited on its being observed that
none of Mrs. Duncomb's family were to be seen; and at length, as the day
advanced, great alarm was exhibited, and suspicions were entertained
that all was not right. Mrs. Love, Mrs. Rhymer, and Mrs. Oliphant,
friends of Mrs. Duncomb, assembled in the afternoon at the door of her
chambers, in obedience to an invitation which they had received to
dinner; but being unable to gain admittance by knocking, they at length
determined to force an entrance. One of the windows was resorted to for
this purpose, to which access was obtained from a neighbouring set of
chambers; and then, on Mrs. Oliphant going into Mrs. Duncomb's bed-room,
the old lady was found there strangled, while her servant Harrison was
discovered in an adjoining apartment also strangled, and the girl Price
was seen lying on her bed with her throat cut from ear to ear. The news
of this diabolical crime soon became published through the
neighbourhood; and the chambers of the deceased being examined, it was
found that they had been stripped of all the valuables which could be
easily carried away, consisting of money, silver plate, and other
articles of a similar description. In the course of the day some
circumstances transpired, tending to fix the suspicions of the police
upon the woman Malcolm; and upon her lodgings being searched, a silver
tankard, the handle of which was covered with blood, was found concealed
in a close-stool. She was in consequence taken into custody, and having
undergone an examination on the following day before the magistrates,
she was committed to Newgate. Upon her entering the jail, she was
searched by Johnson, one of the turnkeys, who took from her a
considerable sum of money in gold and silver coin, and she admitted to
him that it was Mrs. Duncomb's. "But," added she, "I'll make you a
present of it if you will say nothing of the matter." The jailer took
possession of the money, but produced it to his superior officers,
acquainting them with the conversation which had passed. In the course
of the subsequent imprisonment of the unhappy woman, she frequently
conversed with Johnson upon the subject of the murder, and admitted that
she had arranged the robbery, although she declared that she had had
nothing to do with putting Mrs. Duncomb and her servants to death. She
asserted that two men and a woman were concerned with her, and that she
watched on the stairs while they entered the chambers.
At her trial, when called on for her defence, she made a similar
declaration, and stated that Tracy and the two Alexanders were her
companions; but she still persisted in her allegation of her ignorance
of the murder, until its being discovered by Mrs. Oliphant on the day
after it was committed. A verdict of guilty was, however, returned, and
the wretched woman was ordered for execution.
After her conviction she evinced the most sincere penitence, but still
persisted in her refusal to confess herself guilty of the whole crime
with which, she was charged. Upon the bellman[6] coming to her in the
customary manner, she attended anxiously to what he said, and at the
conclusion of his address threw him a shilling to buy wine.
On the morning of execution, March 7, 1733, she appeared more composed
than she had been for some time past, and seemed to join in prayers with
the Ordinary, and another gentleman who attended, with much sincerity.
When in the cart, she wrung her hands and wept most bitterly.
At the place of execution, near Fetter-lane, she behaved with the utmost
devoutness and resignation to the Divine will; but when the Ordinary, in
his prayers, recommended her soul to God, she fainted, and with much
difficulty recovered her senses. On the cart driving off, she turned
towards the Temple, crying out, "Oh! my mistress, my mistress! I wish I
could see her!" and then, casting her eyes towards heaven, called upon
Christ to receive her soul.
CAPTAIN JOHN PORTEOUS.
CONVICTED OF MURDER, AND MURDERED BY THE MOB.
The case of this offender has attracted considerable attention, from the
scene of his death being described with accurate fidelity in Sir Walter
Scott's novel of "The Heart of Mid-Lothian."
John Porteous was born of indigent parents near the city of Edinburgh;
and he served his time as an apprentice to a tailor. Having worked at
his trade for some time, he was married to the cast mistress of the late
Lord Provost of Edinburgh, who settled upon them a sum of 500_l._; but
our hero, being a man addicted to the pursuit of pleasure, soon ran
through his money, and his wife was in consequence obliged to apply to
her old friend, the provost, to make some other provision for them. In
Edinburgh there were three companies of men, in number twenty-five each,
who were employed to keep the peace, and perform the general duties of a
police force. An officer was appointed to each of these companies (whom
they styled captain) with a salary of eighty pounds a year, and a suit
of scarlet uniform; and a vacancy happening by the death of one of these
captains, the provost immediately appointed Porteous to fill up the
place. The latter soon distinguished himself by a show of great daring;
and if a riot occurred in the city, he was generally chosen by the
magistrates to suppress it. On these occasions, however, he would
frequently behave with great violence and cruelty, so that he failed in
obtaining that respect and attention which were so peculiarly necessary
for a person in his situation.
The circumstances attending the condemnation and death of Porteous were
as follows:--Two fellows named Wilson and Robertson, who were daring
smugglers, having been found guilty of a very serious breach of the
revenue laws, were sentenced to die; and a strong feeling existing in
their favour among the people, it was apprehended that it was very
possible that an attempt might be made to rescue them from custody.
Robertson, however, made his escape before the period arrived for his
execution, by taking advantage of an opportunity afforded, by a custom
which then prevailed, of taking the condemned criminals to church under
the care of the city guards; and although Porteous was instantly
despatched in search of him, his inquiries were in vain, and the
criminal afterwards made good his flight to Holland. On the following
Wednesday the execution of Wilson was appointed to take place, and a
temporary gallows was erected in the Grass-market, the prisoner being
ordered to be conducted there by fifty men, under the command of
Porteous. Upon the representations of the latter, five companies of the
Welch Fusileers were ordered to be in readiness in the Lawn-market to
prevent any sudden outbreak; but no disturbance arising, the prisoner
finished his devotions, ascended the ladder, and after having been
turned off, continued hanging the usual time. The hangman then went up
the ladder to cut him down; but a stone struck him on the nose, and
caused it to bleed. This stone was immediately followed by many others;
at which Porteous was so much exasperated, that he instantly called out
to his men, "Fire, and be d----d!" discharging his own piece at the
same time, and shooting a young man, who was apprentice to a
confectioner, dead on the spot. Some of the soldiers more humanely fired
over the heads of the people, but unfortunately killed two or three
persons who were looking out at the windows; while others of them
wantonly fired amongst the feet of the mob, by which many were so
disabled as to be afterwards obliged to suffer amputation. Porteous now
endeavoured to draw off his men, as the mob grew exceedingly outrageous,
throwing stones, and continuing to press on the soldiers; but having
gone some distance, he turned about with two of his men and fired,
killing three more of the people.
Porteous, being assisted by the Fusileers, at last conducted his men to
the guard; when being sent for by the provost, he passed a long
examination, and was committed to prison in order to take his trial for
murder.
On the 6th of July, 1736, the trial came on before the lords of
justiciary previously to which Porteous made a judicial confession,
that the people were killed as mentioned in the indictment, but pleaded
self-defence. His counsel then stated the following point of law, to be
determined by the judges previously to the jury being charged with the
prisoner:--
"Whether a military officer, with soldiers under his command, who, being
assaulted by the populace, should fire, or order his men to fire, was
not acting consistently with the nature of self-defence, according to
the laws of civilised nations?"
The counsel for the prosecution being ordered to plead to the question,
the court pronounced as their opinion, "That if it was proved that
Captain Porteous either fired a gun, or caused one or more to be fired,
by which any person or persons was or were killed, and if the said
firing happened without orders from a magistrate properly authorised,
then it would be murder in the eye of the law."
Thus the question being decided against him and the jury empanelled,
forty-four witnesses were examined for and against the prosecution.
The prisoner being then called on for his defence, his counsel insisted
that the magistrates had ordered him to support the execution of Wilson,
and repel force by force; and that being apprehensive of a rescue,
powder and ball had been given to his men for the said purpose, with
orders to load their pieces. They said, also, that he only meant to
intimidate the people by threats, and actually knocked down one of his
own men for presenting his piece; that finding the men would not obey
orders, he drew off as many as he could; that he afterwards heard a
firing in the rear contrary to his directions; that in order to know who
had fired, he would not suffer their pieces to be cleaned till properly
inspected; and that he never attempted to abscond, though he had the
greatest opportunity, and might have effected his escape with the utmost
ease. They farther insisted, that, admitting some excesses had been
committed, it could not amount to murder, as he was in the lawful
discharge of his duty; neither could it be supposed to be done with
premeditated malice.
In answer to this the counsel for the crown argued, that the trust
reposed in the prisoner ceased when the execution was over; that he was
then no longer an officer employed for that purpose for which the
fire-arms had been loaded; and that the reading of the Riot Act only
could justify his firing in case a rescue had been actually attempted.
The prisoner's counsel replied, that the magistrates, whose duty it was
to have read the Act, had deserted the soldiery, and taken refuge in a
house for their own security; and that it was hard for men to suffer
themselves to be knocked on the head, when they had lawful weapons in
their hands.
The jury having been charged, after sometime occupied in consideration,
found the prisoner guilty, and he was sentenced to death; but the King
being then at Hanover, the Queen, by advice of her council, granted a
respite to the prisoner. The subsequent execution of the sentence was
prevented by the measures taken by the mob, by whom a scheme of revenge
such perhaps as is unprecedented, was planned and carried out.
On the 7th of September, between nine and ten o'clock in the evening, a
large body of men entered the city, and seized the arms belonging to the
guard; they then patrolled the streets, crying out, "All those who dare
revenge innocent blood, let them come here;" and they closed the gates,
and placed guards at each, so as to prevent ingress or egress.
The main body of the mob, all disguised, marched in the mean time to the
prison; when finding some difficulty in breaking open the door with
hammers, they immediately set fire to it, taking great care that the
flames should not extend beyond their proper bounds. The outer door was
hardly consumed before they rushed in, and ordering the keeper to open
the door of the captain's apartment, cried out, "Where is the villain
Porteous?" He replied, "Here I am; what do you want with me?" To which
they answered, that they meant to hang him in the Grass-market, the
place where he had shed so much innocent blood. His expostulations were
all in vain; they seized him by the legs and arms, and dragged him
instantly to the place of execution. On their arrival they broke open a
shop to find a rope suitable to their purpose, which they immediately
fixed round his neck; and then, throwing the other end over a dyer's
pole, they hoisted him up. He endeavoured to save himself, and fixed his
hands between the halter and his neck; but this being observed by some
of the mob, one of them struck him with an axe, and this obliging him to
quit his hold, they soon put an end to his life.
When they were satisfied that he was dead, they immediately dispersed to
their several habitations, unmolested themselves, and without molesting
any one else.
Upon this circumstance being made known, a royal proclamation was
issued, offering a large reward for the apprehension of the offenders;
and the magistrates of Edinburgh were summoned to answer for their
neglect in not quelling the riot, were fined, and rendered incapable of
acting again in any judicial capacity. The circumstance of the death of
Porteous, however, appeared to have afforded the people so much
satisfaction, that no further attempt was made to discover the leaders
of the fray.
JOHN RICHARDSON AND RICHARD COYLE.
EXECUTED FOR PIRACY AND MURDER.
The adventures of the first-named of these criminals exhibit him to be a
man possessing the most consummate hypocrisy, and a disposition of the
very worst description.
John Richardson was a native of New York in America, where, at the age
of fourteen years, he entered on board a vessel commanded by his uncle.
After a single voyage, he took a dislike to the sea, and, loath again to
trust himself upon salt water, he procured an engagement in the service
of a carpenter, by whom he was employed for five years, when an intimacy
having commenced with his master's daughter which was likely to produce
unpleasant consequences, he ran off, and once again selected the sea as
the scene of his future exploits. The vessel on board which he entered
was bound for Jamaica, and there our hero was pressed and put on board a
man-of-war, by which he was carried to England. He subsequently attained
the rank of boatswain on board a vessel trading to the Baltic; but
having, by means of a forged letter, obtained the sum of one hundred
rix-dollars from a merchant of Riga, he decamped to Amsterdam. At that
place he formed an acquaintance with a woman whose husband was a mate on
board an East India vessel, with whom he cohabited during a period of
eight months. His innamorata then informed him that he must retire in
favour of her husband, whose return she daily expected; but he could not
make up his mind to give up his connexion without procuring some
substantial proof of his good fortune, and he did not venture to depart
until he had secured to himself booty of the value of about 250_l._ in
goods and money. Rotterdam was the next point to which he proceeded; but
from thence he almost immediately departed for New England. On his
arrival there, he deposited the wares of which he had possessed himself
in a commodious storehouse, and assuming the character of a merchant, he
began to look out for a wife, with whom he hoped to procure a fortune
sufficient to enable him to live with respectability. As Christmas
approached, he became intimate with his neighbours, and he was induced
to keep the festival with a Mr. Brown, who had a family of three
daughters and four maid-servants. A prolonged visit at the house of his
host enabled him to ingratiate himself so far with the young women as to
procure from them more than ordinary favours; and he did not quit the
agreeable society with which he met, until more than one or two of his
fair friends had reason to regret the intimacy which had subsisted
between them. Not long after this, he addressed himself to a young lady,
the daughter of a magistrate, whose hand he solicited in marriage; and
her father making no objection to the celebration of the nuptials, the
banns were published in the parish church, in accordance with the usual
custom. On the first day no objection was made; but upon the publication
taking place the second time, there appeared no less than seven injured
women, who forbade the ceremony proceeding any further. The time which
had elapsed since the intended bridegroom had obtained the consent of
the young lady and her father to the proposed match, had been quite
sufficient to enable him to work himself into the good graces of the
former; and thinking it now quite time to depart, he packed up what few
moveables he still possessed, and proceeded to New York. His residence
there, however, was soon discovered by his proposed father-in-law; and
overtures having been made by the old gentleman, he consented to return
and marry the girl, whom he had debauched, upon the receipt of 300_l._
The ceremony had no sooner been performed, than his re-appearance at
Boston having been discovered by the friends of the other girls, his
apprehension was secured at their instance, in order that he might be
compelled to give security for the maintenance of the progeny to which
they were about to give birth. His father-in-law at once undertook that
he should be forthcoming when wanted, and upon this assurance he
regained his liberty; but he had hardly obtained the possession of the
promised dower, when he once again bade adieu to his Boston friends, and
returned to New York.
His improvidence speedily reduced him in that city to a condition of the
most abject misery and want, and he was at length compelled to accept
employment in the yard of a quaker shipbuilder. He was treated with the
greatest kindness, by his master, but the attention which he received
appeared to excite only ingratitude in his mind: for he not only found
means to become intimate with his mistress, but he at length absconded,
carrying with him about 70_l._, which he procured by breaking open a
chest in his master's house. He now proceeded to Philadelphia, which
place he conceived would be well calculated for the concealment of his
past iniquities, and a renewal of his schemes upon the unwary. A widow
and her two daughters were the next new victims to his diabolical
lusts. Having become intimate with the mother, he subsequently, in turn,
found means to seduce the daughters. The widow was outrageous at the
discovery of this treble act of duplicity, and insisted that he should
afford the only reparation which remained in his power. A difficulty,
however, arose, for it became obvious that he could not marry them all
three; but at length a satisfactory adjustment took place, an
arrangement being made, by which one of the daughters was married to a
former lover, the other being committed to the tender mercies of our
hero, with a dower of 600_l._ and some plate. Affairs were no sooner
settled in this way, however, than Richardson, already weary of his
wife, absconded to South Carolina, and there he obtained employment on
board a vessel trading between that place and Jamaica. He was soon
engaged in another intrigue with the daughter of his commander, and
having added a third wife to his list, he started upon a new expedition
to Barbadoes. But this voyage proved unfortunate, for the vessel being
wrecked, he lost all that he possessed. Being picked up, he was carried
to St. Kitt's; and from thence he proceeded to Jamaica, to Carthagena,
Vera Cruz, and finally to England. The port at which he arrived was
Chatham, and chance threw him once again into a situation, in which he
was enabled to impose upon the good-nature of strangers. Putting up at
the house of a publican named Ballard, his host became possessed of an
idea that he was no other than a brother of his, who had gone to sea
several years before, but had never returned; and Richardson, taking
advantage of the good-natured credulity which the other exhibited,
declared himself to be his long-lost relation. Great rejoicings took
place upon the supposed discovery being made, and our hero went the
round of his newly-found friends, permitting his good-nature to be
imposed upon by the payment to him of a legacy alleged to have been left
by his deceased parents. But his villanies did not rest there; for,
being introduced to two sisters named Knowlding, he so far ingratiated
himself with one of them, as to obtain possession of the title-deeds of
the small estate which she possessed, which he mortgaged at Gravesend
for 800_l_., and then immediately sailed for Venice with the proceeds.
It was not long before, in that city of splendour, he succeeded in
disposing of his ill-gotten spoil, and then he went to Ancona, where he
became acquainted with Captain Benjamin Hartley, for whose murder he was
eventually executed. Capt. Hartley, it appears, had sailed to that place
with a cargo of pilchards, and having discharged his lading, he was
about to proceed to Turkey upon a new trip. Being in want of a
carpenter, he prevailed upon Richardson to accompany him in that
capacity. On board the vessel, Coyle, the fellow-sufferer with
Richardson, was employed as mate. The vessel proceeded in one course to
Turkey, where having taken in a cargo of corn, she sailed to Leghorn.
She had not advanced many leagues upon her voyage, however, before a
plot for the murder of the captain and the seizure of the vessel was put
into execution. Coyle, it appears, was the instigator of this foul
conspiracy, and having obtained the assistance of Richardson and a man
named Larson, they all three proceeded to the performance of their
horrid project. On the first night of the voyage, they went to the
captain's cabin at about midnight, determined to despatch him as he lay
in his hammock; but Hartley being alarmed at their presence, sprang upon
deck and ran up the shrouds. His pursuers were not far behind him, and
he was rapidly followed by Richardson and Larson; but, driven to
desperation by the dreadful situation in which he was placed, he flung
himself from a fearful height upon the deck. Here Coyle was in waiting
to receive him, and raising a blunderbuss to his shoulder, he attempted
to shoot him. The captain, however, avoided the discharge, and, rushing
to his antagonist, he wrested the blunderbuss from him, and threw it
overboard. By this time the crew had gained intelligence of what was
passing on deck, and, rushing through the hatchway, Capt. Hartley
perceived from their looks that they were too little disposed to assist
him in opposition to the attack which had been made upon him. He at once
gave himself up for lost; and, being stunned by a blow which he received
from Coyle, he was directly hove overboard.
Coyle and Richardson now assumed the respective offices of master and
mate of the vessel; and, after a long consultation, it was determined
that they should bear up for the island of Foviniano, where it was hoped
they would be able to procure supplies. Here, however, their piratical
proceedings were communicated to the authorities of the place by two
boys, who escaped from the vessel during the night; and the crew,
discovering the dangerous position in which they were placed,
immediately set sail in the long-boat for Tunis. On their arrival at
that place, they were carried before the English consul, to whom they
represented themselves to be the crew of a vessel which had been lost
off Sardinia, but having been supplied with money, Coyle, while in a
state of intoxication, spoke so freely of their adventures, that he was
immediately placed under arrest. Richardson, however, escaped to
Tripoli, and from thence to Malta and Sicily; but on his going to
Messina, he was taken into custody on the representations of a friend of
the deceased Capt. Hartley. Having remained in prison during a period of
nine months, he procured his liberation by representing to the king of
Naples that he had been a servant to his father; and he then travelled
to Rome and Civita Vecchia, where he was finally apprehended and sent to
England. Coyle had only just before reached London, and they were
immediately both indicted for the murder of their commander. The
evidence against them consisted of the declarations made by the two
boys, to whom we have already alluded; and having been found guilty,
they received sentence of death. The wretched man Coyle, who was
respectably connected in Devonshire, appeared sensible of the enormity
of the crime of which he had been guilty, and professed the greatest
penitence; while Richardson, on the other hand, exhibited an
extraordinary degree of recklessness. They were hanged at Execution Dock
on the 25th of January, 1738.
GEORGE PRICE.
CONVICTED OF MURDER.
The case of this malefactor gives us an opportunity of bringing under
the notice of the reader the occurrence of a calamity which has always
attracted considerable attention,--namely, the breaking out of the jail
fever.
The offence of the prisoner was that of the murder of his wife, a crime
which he perpetrated on Hounslow Heath, in a gig, within view of the
gibbets which formerly stood there, by strangling her with the thong of
his whip. He was apprehended upon suspicion of the crime, and was found
guilty, and sentenced to death, but before the law could be executed
upon him he died in Newgate, of the jail fever, on the 22d October,
1738. The following account of this malignant fever, shows the peculiar
circumstances under which it first exhibited itself. It appears that it
was always attended with a degree of malignity, in proportion to the
closeness and stench of the place.
The assize held at Oxford in the year 1577, called the "Black Assize,"
was a dreadful instance of the deadly effects of the jail fever. The
judges, jury, witnesses, and in fact nearly every person except the
prisoners, women, and children, in court, were killed by a foul air,
which at first was thought to have arisen out of the bowels of the
earth; but that great philosopher, Lord Bacon, proved it to have come
from the prisoners, taken out of a noisome jail, and brought into court
to take their trials; and they alone, being subject to the inhaling foul
air, were not injured by it.
"Baker's Chronicle," a work of the highest authenticity, thus speaks of
the Black Assize:--"The Court were surprised with a pestilent savour,
whether arising from the noisome smell of the prisoners, or from the
damp of the ground, is uncertain; but all that were present within forty
hours died, except the prisoners, and the women and children; and the
contagion went no farther. There died Robert Bell, Lord Chief Baron,
Robert de Olie, Sir William Babington, the high sheriff of Oxfordshire,
some of the most eminent lawyers, the jurors, and three hundred others,
more or less."
Some attributed the cause of the sudden mortality at Oxford to
witchcraft, the people in those times being very superstitious. In
"Webster's Display of Witchcraft," a work of some authenticity as to the
relation of circumstances as they occurred, we find the following
account of the Black Assize, which we insert as a matter of curiosity:--
"The 4th and 5th days of July, 1559, were holden the assizes at Oxford,
where was arraigned and condemned one Rowland Jenkes, for his seditious
tongue, at which time there arose such a damp, that almost all were
smothered. Very few escaped that were not taken at that instant. The
jurors died presently; shortly after died Sir Robert Bell, Lord Chief
Baron, Sir Robert De Olie, Sir Wm. Babington, Mr. Weneman, Mr. De Olie,
high sheriff, Mr. Davers, Mr. Harcourt, Mr. Kirle, Mr. Pheteplace, Mr.
Greenwood, Mr. Foster, Sergeant Baram, Mr. Stevens, &c. There died in
Oxford three hundred persons; and sickened there, but died in other
places, two hundred and odd, from the 6th of July to the 12th of August,
after which day died not one of that sickness, for one of them infected
not another, nor any one woman or child died thereof. This is the
punctual relation according to our English annals, which relate nothing
of what should be the cause of the arising of such a damp just at the
conjuncture of time when Jenkes was condemned, there being none before,
and so it could not be a prison infection; for that would have
manifested itself by smell, or operating sooner. But to take away all
scruple, and to assign the true cause, it was thus: It fortuned that a
manuscript fell into my hands, collected by an ancient gentleman of
York, who was a great observer and gatherer of strange things and facts,
who lived about the time of this accident happening at Oxford, wherein
it is related thus:--
"That Rowland Jenkes, being imprisoned for treasonable words spoken
against the queen, and being a popish recusant, had, notwithstanding,
during the time of his restraint, liberty some time to walk abroad with
the keeper; and that one day he came to an apothecary, and showed him a
receipt which he desired him to make up; but the apothecary, upon
viewing of it, told him that it was a strong and dangerous receipt, and
required some time to prepare it; also asking to what use he would apply
it. He answered, 'To kill the rats, that since his imprisonment spoiled
his books;' so being satisfied, he promised to make it ready. After a
certain time he cometh to know if it were ready, but the apothecary said
the ingredients were so hard to procure that he had not done it, and so
gave him the receipt again, of which he had taken a copy, which mine
author had there precisely written down, but did seem so horribly
poisonous, that I cut it forth, lest it might fall into the hands of
wicked persons. But after, it seems, he had it prepared, and against the
day of his trial had made a wick of it, (for so is the word,--that is,
so fitted it that like a candle, it might be fired,) which as soon as
ever he was condemned he lighted, having provided himself with a
tinder-box and steel to strike fire. And whosoever should know the
ingredients of that wick or candle, and the manner of the composition,
will easily be persuaded of the virulency and venomous effect of it."
In the year 1730, the Lord Chief Baron Pengelly, with several of his
officers and servants; Sir James Sheppard, sergeant-at-law; and John
Pigot, Esq., high sheriff for Somersetshire, died at Blandford, on the
Western Circuit of the Lent assize, from the infected stench brought
with the prisoners from Ilchester jail to their trials at Taunton, in
which town the infection afterwards spread, and carried off some hundred
persons.
In 1754 and 1755 this distemper prevailed in Newgate to a degree which
carried off more than one-fifth of the prisoners.
RICHARD TURPIN.
EXECUTED FOR HORSE-STEALING.
The character which this notorious offender is generally supposed to
have possessed for remarkable gallantry and courage, and which in one
instance has been deemed of sufficient importance to fit him for one of
the heroes of a romance[7], upon being examined, appears to sink him to
the low degree of a petty pilferer, of a heartless plunderer, and even
of a brutal murderer.
Turpin was the son of a farmer named John Turpin, at Thackstead, in
Essex; and having received a common school education, was apprenticed to
a butcher in Whitechapel, in whose service he at an early age
distinguished himself for the brutality of his disposition. On the
expiration of his apprenticeship, he was married to a young woman named
Palmer, who resided at East Ham in Essex, and set up in business for
himself; but he had not been thus occupied long, before he sought to
decrease his expenditure in trade by stealing his neighbours' cattle,
and cutting them up and selling them in his shop. His proceedings,
however, received an unexpected check; for having stolen two oxen from
a Mr. Giles at Plaistow, he drove them straight home; but two of Giles'
servants having obtained sufficient evidence of the robbery, a warrant
was obtained for his apprehension, and he only evaded the officers who
were in search of him, by making his escape from the back window of his
house at the very moment when they were entering at the door.
Having retreated to a place of security, he found means to inform his
wife where he was concealed, and she furnished him with money, with
which he travelled into the hundreds of Essex, where he joined a gang of
smugglers, with whom he was for some time successful. A body of the
Custom-house officers, however, by one fortunate stroke, deprived him of
all his ill-acquired gains. Thrown out of this kind of business, he
connected himself with a gang of deer-stealers, the principal part of
whose depredations were committed on Epping Forest, and the parks in its
neighbourhood: but their efforts not succeeding to the expectation of
the robbers, they determined to commence housebreakers. Their plan was
to fix on those houses which they presumed contained any valuable
property; and while one of them knocked at the door, the others rushed
in, and seized whatever they might deem worthy of their notice.
The first attack of this kind was at the house of Mr. Strype, an old man
who kept a chandler's shop at Watford, whom they robbed of all the money
in his possession, but did not offer him any personal violence.
The well-known story of placing the old woman on the fire at Loughton is
thus related by the original historian of the life of our hero:--
"Turpin now acquainted his associates that there was an old woman at
Loughton who was in possession of seven or eight hundred pounds,
whereupon they agreed to rob her; and when they came to the door, one of
them knocked, and the rest forcing their way into the house, tied
handkerchiefs over the eyes of the old woman and her maid.
"This being done, Turpin demanded what money was in the house; and the
owner hesitating to tell him, he threatened to set her on the fire if
she did not make an immediate discovery. Still, however, she refused to
give the desired information: on which the villains actually placed her
on the fire, where she sat till the tormenting pains compelled her to
discover her hidden treasure; so that the robbers possessed themselves
of above four hundred pounds, and decamped with the booty."
The gang appear to have proceeded with some success, for soon afterwards
they robbed the house of a farmer at Barking of above 700_l_. in a most
daring manner, and then they determined to attack the house of Mr.
Mason, the keeper of Epping Forest. Turpin, it appears, was absent from
this expedition, for he was unable to remain with so much money in his
pocket as he possessed, and he therefore started to London to spend it
in riot and intoxication. His companions, however, were true to their
faith, and having obtained a considerable booty, they sought him in town
and shared the produce of the robbery with him.
On the 11th of January, 1735, Turpin and five of his companions went to
the house of Mr. Saunders, a rich farmer at Charlton, in Kent, between
seven and eight in the evening, and, having knocked at the door, asked
if Mr. Saunders was at home. Being answered in the affirmative, they
rushed into the house, and found Mr. Saunders, with his wife and
friends, playing at cards in the parlour. They told the company that
they should remain uninjured if they made no disturbance, and having
made prize of a silver snuff-box which lay on the table, part of the
gang stood guard over the company, while the others attended Mr.
Saunders through the house, and, breaking open his escrutoires and
closets, stole above a hundred pounds, exclusive of plate. During these
transactions the servant-maid ran up stairs, barred the door of her
room, and called out "Thieves!" with a view of alarming the
neighbourhood; but the robbers broke open the door, secured her, and
then robbed the house of all the valuable property they had not before
taken. Finding some mince-pies and some bottles of wine, they sat down
to regale themselves; and meeting with a bottle of brandy, they
compelled each of the company to drink a glass of it. Mrs. Saunders
fainted through terror, but the gallantry of the thieves would not
permit her to remain in this condition, and they therefore administered
some drops in water to her, and recovered her to the use of her senses.
Having staid in the house a considerable time, they packed up their
booty and departed, declaring that if any of the family gave the least
alarm within two hours, or advertised the marks of the stolen plate,
they would return and murder them at a future time. Retiring to a
public-house at Woolwich, where they had concerted the robbery, they
crossed the Thames to an empty house in Ratcliffe Highway, and there
deposited the stolen effects till they found a purchaser for them.
Their next attack was upon the house of Mr. Shelden, near Croydon, in
Surrey, where they obtained a considerable booty in money and jewels.
They then concerted the robbery of Mr. Lawrence, of Edgeware, in
Middlesex, to the commission of which they proceeded on the 4th
February. They arrived at Edgeware at about five in the evening, and,
after obtaining some refreshment, they went to the scene of their
intended outrage at about seven o'clock, when Mr. Lawrence had just
discharged his workmen. Quitting their horses at the outer gate, they
seized a sheep-boy, whom they compelled to conduct them to the
house-door, under fear of death; and they there obliged him to procure
the opening of the door by knocking and calling to his fellow-servants.
As soon as the door was open, they all rushed in, and presenting
pistols, they seized Mr. Lawrence and his servant, threw a cloth over
their faces, and, taking the boy into another room, demanded what
fire-arms were in the house? He replied that there was only an old gun,
which they broke in pieces. They then bound Mr. Lawrence and his man,
and made them sit by the boy; and Turpin, searching the gentleman, took
from him a guinea, a Portugal piece, and some silver; but, not being
satisfied with this booty, they forced him to conduct them up stairs,
where they broke open a closet, and stole some money and plate. Being
dissatisfied, they swore that they would murder Mr. Lawrence if some
further booty was not produced, and one of them took a kettle of water
from the fire, and threw it over him; but it providentially happened not
to be hot enough to scald him. In the interim, the maid servant, who was
churning butter in the dairy, hearing a noise in the house, apprehended
some mischief, on which she blew out her candle to screen herself; but,
being found in the course of their search, one of the miscreants
compelled her to go up stairs, where he gratified his brutal passion by
force. They then robbed the house of all the valuable effects they could
find, locked the family into the parlour, threw the key into the garden,
and took their ill-gotten plunder to London.
The particulars of this atrocious robbery being represented to the king
a proclamation was issued, offering a reward of fifty guineas for the
apprehension of the offenders, and a pardon to any one of the parties
who should impeach his associates. This, however, was unsuccessful, and
the robbers continued their depredations as before. On the 7th February,
six of them assembled at the White Bear, in Drury Lane, and they agreed
to rob Mr. Francis, a farmer, at Marylebone. They accordingly proceeded
to his house forthwith, and having bound all the servants and Mr.
Francis in the stable, they rushed into the house, tied Mrs. Francis,
her daughter, and the maid-servant, and beat them in a most cruel
manner. One of the thieves then stood sentry while the rest rifled the
house, in which they found a silver tankard, a medal of Charles I., a
gold watch, several gold rings, a considerable sum of money, and a
variety of valuable linen and other effects, which they conveyed to
London.
Hereupon a reward of one hundred pounds was offered for the apprehension
of the offenders; in consequence of which two of them were taken into
custody, tried, convicted on the evidence of an accomplice, and hanged
in chains: and the whole gang being dispersed, Turpin went into the
country to renew his depredations on the public, in any new line of
business which might strike his fancy. On his way towards Cambridge he
fell in with a young man of gentlemanly appearance, who was well
mounted, and expecting a tolerable booty, he presented a pistol to his
breast and demanded his money. The only answer which he received,
however, was a hearty peal of laughter; and when the highwayman, enraged
at the supposed insult cast upon him, threatened instant destruction to
the stranger in case of any further refusal, the latter
exclaimed--"What! dog eat dog?--Come, come, brother Turpin, if you don't
know me, I know you, and shall be glad of your company." The mystery was
soon solved; the stranger was no other than King, the gentleman
highwayman, and a bargain of partnership was struck between them, which
terminated only with the death of our hero's new associate, by the hand
of his companion in iniquity. Joined now in a common cause against the
public, they committed a great number of robberies, until at length they
were so well known that no public-house would receive them as guests.
Thus situated, they fixed on a spot between the King's Oak and the
Loughton road, on Epping Forest, where they made a cave which was large
enough to receive them and their horses. The cave was enclosed within a
sort of thicket of bushes and brambles, through which they could look
and see passengers on the road, while they remained unobserved; and from
this station they used to issue, and robbed such a number of persons,
that at length the very pedlars who travelled the road carried fire-arms
for their defence. While thus situated, they were frequently visited by
Turpin's wife, who used to supply them with necessaries, and who often
remained with her husband in the cave, during King's absence, for the
night.
Having taken a ride as far as Bungay, in Suffolk, the robbers observed
two young countrywomen receive fourteen pounds for corn, on which Turpin
resolved to rob them of the money. King objected, saying it was a pity
to rob such pretty girls: but Turpin was obstinate, and obtained the
booty. Upon their return home on the following day, they stopped a Mr.
Bradle, of London, who was riding in his chariot with his children. The
gentleman, seeing only one robber, was preparing to make resistance,
[Illustration: _Turpin and King.
What! Dog eat Dog!_]
when King called to Turpin to hold the horses, and they took from him
his watch, money, and an old mourning-ring; but returned the latter, as
he declared that its intrinsic value was trifling, and that he was very
unwilling to part with it. Finding that they readily parted with the
ring, he asked them what he must give for the watch: on which King said
to Turpin, "What say you, Jack (by which name he always called him), he
seems to be a good honest fellow; shall we let him have the watch?"
Turpin answered, "Do as you please." Whereupon King said, "You must pay
six guineas for it. We never sell for more, though the watch should be
worth six-and-thirty." The gentleman therefore received the watch, and
said that the money should be left at the Dial, in Birchin-lane, where
they might receive it.
The greatest crime of which Turpin appears to have been guilty was
committed soon after this--it was that of murder. The active inquiries
which the police of the day were making after him and his companion,
obliged them to separate; but Turpin, being less wary than King,
continued to inhabit their old dwelling in the forest. The tempting
offer of 100_l_. reward induced the servant of a gentleman, named
Thompson, and a higgler, to go out in the hope of capturing the
highwayman; and Turpin, being unaware of their object, and seeing them
approach his cave with a gun, mistook them for poachers. He called to
them, telling them that there were no hares in that thicket, upon which
the servant exclaimed, "No, but I have found a Turpin," and instantly
presenting his gun, he called upon him to surrender. Turpin spoke to him
in a friendly way, but retreating from him at the same time, he seized
his own gun, and shot him dead on the spot, the higgler running off with
the greatest precipitation. The consequence of this most detestable act
was, that a great outcry was raised against the highwayman, and he was
compelled to quit the place on which he had hitherto relied for his
concealment. It was afterwards examined, and there were found in it two
shirts, two pairs of stockings, a piece of ham, and part of a bottle of
wine. His place of refuge was in Hertfordshire; and he sent a letter to
his wife to meet him at a public-house in the town of Hertford, but
going to keep his appointment he met a butcher, to whom he owed a sum of
money. The latter demanded payment, and Dick promised to get the money
of his wife, who was in the next room; but while the butcher was hinting
to some of his acquaintance that the person present was Turpin, and that
they might take him into custody after he had received his debt, the
highwayman made his escape through a window, and rode off with great
expedition.
He soon found King; but their meeting was unfortunate for the latter,
for it ended in his death. Proceeding together towards London in the
dusk of the evening, when they came near the Green Man on Epping Forest,
they overtook a Mr. Major, who being mounted on a very fine horse, while
Turpin's beast was jaded, the latter obliged him to dismount, and
exchange. The robbers now pursued their journey towards London; and Mr.
Major, going to the Green Man, gave an account of the affair; on which
it was conjectured that Turpin had been the robber. It was on a Saturday
evening that this robbery was committed; but Mr. Major being advised to
print hand-bills immediately, notice was given to the landlord of the
Green Man, that such a horse as had been lost had been left at the Red
Lion in Whitechapel. The landlord going thither, determined to wait
till some person came for it; and at about eleven at night, King's
brother came to pay for the horse, and take him away, on which he was
immediately seized, and conducted into the house. Being asked what right
he had to the horse, he said he had bought it; but the landlord,
examining a whip which he had in his hand, found a button at the end of
the handle half broken off, and the name of Major on the remaining half.
Upon this he was given into the custody of a constable; but as it was
not supposed that he was the actual robber, he was told that he should
have his liberty if he would discover his employer. Hereupon he said
that a stout man, in a white duffil coat, was waiting for the horse in
Red Lion-street; on which the company going thither, saw King, who drew
a pistol, and attempted to fire it, but it flashed in the pan: he then
endeavoured to pull out another pistol, but he could not, as it got
entangled in his pocket. Turpin was at this time watching at a short
distance off, and riding towards the spot, he saw his companion seized
by some officers who had arrived. King immediately cried out "Shoot him,
or we are taken;" on which Turpin fired, but his shot penetrated the
breast of his companion. King called out, "Dick, you have killed me!"
and Turpin then rode off at full speed.
King lived a week after this affair, and gave information that Turpin
might be found at a house near Hackney Marsh; and, on inquiry, it was
discovered that Turpin had been there on the night that he rode off,
lamenting that he had killed King, who was his most faithful associate.
For a considerable time our hero skulked about the forest, having been
deprived of his retreat in the cave since he shot the servant of Mr.
Thompson; and a more active search for him having commenced, he
determined to make good his retreat into Yorkshire, where he thought
that he would be unknown, and might the more readily evade justice. The
circumstance which induced him to take this step, appears to have been
an attempt made by a gentleman's huntsman, to secure him by hunting him
down with blood-hounds, whose mouths he escaped only by mounting an oak,
when he had the satisfaction to see them pass by without noticing him.
Going first, therefore, to Long Sutton, in Lincolnshire, he stole some
horses, for which he was taken into custody; but he escaped from the
constable as he was conducting him before a magistrate, and hastened to
Welton, in Yorkshire, where he went by the name of John Palmer, and
assumed the character of a gentleman.
He now frequently went into Lincolnshire, where he stole horses, which
he brought into Yorkshire, and there he sold or exchanged them. From his
being apparently a dealer in horses, he became acquainted with many of
the surrounding gentry and farmers; and he frequently accompanied them
on hunting and shooting expeditions. On one of these occasions he was
returning home, when he wantonly shot a cock belonging to his landlord.
Mr. Hall, a neighbour who witnessed the act, said, "You have done wrong
in shooting your landlord's cock," on which Turpin answered, that if he
would stay while he loaded his gun he would shoot him too. Irritated by
the insult, Mr. Hall communicated what had occurred to the owner of the
cock, whereupon complaint being made to the magistrates, a warrant was
granted for the apprehension of the offender; and on his being taken
into custody, he was examined before the magistrates at Beverley and
committed for want of sureties. Inquiries being made, the good opinions
which had been formed of his mode of life were soon dissipated; and it
was conjectured, that instead of being a horse-dealer, he was a
horse-stealer. The magistrates, therefore, proceeded to him, and
demanded to know what his business was; and he answered, that about two
years before, he had carried on business at Long Sutton as a butcher,
but that having contracted some debts for sheep that proved rotten, he
had been compelled to abscond, and to go into Yorkshire to live. The
clerk of the peace being commissioned to ascertain the truth of this
story, learned that he had never been in business, and that he was
suspected to be a horse-stealer, and had been in custody but had
escaped, and that there were many informations against him for various
offences. He was then committed to York Castle; and soon afterwards some
persons coming from Lincolnshire, claimed a mare and a foal, which were
in his possession, and stated that they had been stolen recently before.
The real name and character of the prisoner were soon afterwards
discovered by means of a letter, which he wrote to his brother in Essex.
The letter was as follows:--
"York, February 6, 1739.
"DEAR BROTHER,--I am sorry to inform you that I am now under
confinement in York Castle for horse-stealing. If I could procure
an evidence from London to give me a character, that would go a
great way towards my being acquitted. I had not been long in this
county before my apprehension, so it would pass off the readier.
For Heaven's sake, dear brother, do not neglect me; you well know
what I mean when I say I am yours,
"JOHN PALMER."
The letter was returned to the Post Office unopened, because the postage
was not paid; and Mr. Smith, the schoolmaster, by whom Turpin had been
taught to write, knowing the hand, carried the letter to a magistrate,
by whom it was broken open, and it was thus discovered that the supposed
John Palmer was Dick Turpin. Mr. Smith was in consequence despatched to
Yorkshire, and he immediately selected his former pupil from the other
prisoners, and subsequently gave evidence at the trial as to his
identity.
On the rumour that the noted Turpin was a prisoner in York Castle,
persons flocked from all parts of the country to take a view of him, and
debates ran high whether he was the real person or not. Among others who
visited him was a young fellow who pretended to know the famous Turpin;
and having regarded him a considerable time with looks of great
attention, he told the keeper he would bet him half a guinea that he was
not Turpin; on which the prisoner, whispering the keeper, said "Lay him
the wager, and I'll go your halves."
When this notorious malefactor was brought to trial, he was convicted on
two indictments, and received sentence of death. After conviction he
wrote to his father, imploring him to intercede with a gentleman and
lady of rank, to make interest that his sentence might be remitted, and
that he might be transported; but although the father did what was in
his power, the notoriety of his son's character was such, that no
persons would exert themselves in his favour.
The prisoner meanwhile lived in the most gay and thoughtless manner,
regardless of all considerations of futurity, and affecting to make a
jest of the dreadful fate that awaited him.
Not many days before his execution, he bought a new fustian frock and a
pair of pumps, in order to wear them at the time of his death; and on
the day before that appointed for the termination of his life, he hired
five poor men, at five shillings each, to follow the cart as mourners.
He gave hatbands and gloves to several persons, and left a ring and
other articles of property to a married woman, with whom he had been
acquainted in Lincolnshire.
On the morning of his death he was put into a cart, and being followed
by his mourners, he was drawn to the place of execution; in his way to
which he bowed to the spectators with an air of the most astonishing
indifference and intrepidity.
When he came to the fatal tree he ascended the ladder; and, on his right
leg trembling, he stamped it down with an air of assumed courage, as if
he was ashamed to be observed to discover any signs of fear. Having
conversed with the executioner about half an hour, he threw himself off
the ladder, and expired in a few minutes. Turpin suffered at York, April
10, 1739.
The spectators of the execution seemed to be much affected at the fate
of this man, who was distinguished by the comeliness of his appearance.
The corpse was brought to the Blue Boar, in Castle-gate, York, where it
remained till the next morning, when it was interred in the church-yard
of St. George's parish, with an inscription on the coffin bearing the
initials of his name, and his age. The grave was made remarkably deep,
and the people who acted as mourners took such measures as they thought
would secure the body; but about three o'clock on the following morning
some persons were observed in the church-yard, who carried it off; and
the populace, having an intimation whither it was conveyed, found it in
a garden belonging to one of the surgeons of the city.
Hereupon they took the body, laid it on a board, and, having carried it
through the streets in a kind of triumphal manner, and then filled the
coffin with unslacked lime, buried it in the grave where it had been
before deposited.--It is difficult to conceive the reason of all this
concern and sympathy among the people; for a more depraved, heartless
villain never suffered the penalty of the law. The fashion, however,
which was then set appears to have continued in existence up to the
present day; and fancy has done more to secure the reputation of Turpin
as a hero, and a man of courage and generosity, than any pains he ever
took to obtain for himself a good name as an honest man. It is needless
to add, that the story of the ride to York, and of the wondrous deeds of
the highwayman's steed, "Black Bess," are, like many other tales of this
fellow, the fabrications of some poetical brain.
MARY YOUNG. ALIAS JENNY DIVER.
EXECUTED FOR A STREET ROBBERY.
The name of this woman will long be celebrated in the annals of crime,
as being that of a person who was the most ingenious of her class.
Mary Young was the daughter of poor parents in the north of Ireland; and
at the age of ten years entered the service of a gentlewoman, by whose
directions she was instructed in reading, writing, and needle-work, in
the latter of which she attained a proficiency unusual in girls of her
age. Soon after she arrived at her fifteenth year, a young man, who
lived in the vicinity, made strong pretensions of love to her, and
having formed a desire to visit London, she determined to quit her
benefactress, and make the passion of her lover, for whom she cared
little, subservient to her purpose. She therefore promised to marry him
on condition of his taking her to London, and he joyfully accepted her
proposal, and immediately took a passage to Liverpool. In order,
however, to enable him to undertake the journey, he robbed his master of
a gold watch and 80 guineas, and then he joined his intended wife on
board the ship. Arrived at Liverpool, they determined to remain a short
time to get over the effects of the voyage, and they lived together as
man and wife; but when they were on the point of starting to London by
the waggon, the bridegroom was seized by a messenger despatched in
search of him from Ireland and conveyed before the mayor, whither his
companion accompanied him. He there confessed the crime of which he had
been guilty, but did not implicate Young, and she, in consequence, was
permitted to take her departure for London, having 10 guineas in her
pocket, which she had recently received from her paramour. In a short
time the latter was sent to Ireland, where he was tried, and condemned
to suffer death; but his sentence was eventually changed to that of
transportation.
Upon her arrival in London, our heroine contracted an acquaintance with
one of her countrywomen, named Ann Murphy, by whom she was invited to
partake of a lodging in Long Acre. She endeavoured for a while to obtain
a livelihood by her needle; but, not being able to procure sufficient
employment, her situation became truly deplorable. Murphy then intimated
to her that she could introduce her to a mode of life that would prove
exceedingly lucrative, adding, that the most profound secrecy was
required; and the other, expressing an anxious desire to learn the means
of extricating herself from the difficulties under which she laboured,
made a solemn declaration that she would never divulge what Murphy
should communicate. In the evening, Murphy introduced her to a number of
men and women, assembled in a kind of club, near St. Giles's, who gained
their living by cutting off women's pockets, and stealing watches, &c.
from men, in the avenues of the theatres, and at other places of public
resort; and, on the recommendation of Murphy, they admitted Mary a
member of the society. After her installation they dispersed, in order
to pursue their illegal occupation; and the booty obtained that night
consisted of eighty pounds in cash and a valuable gold watch. As Mary
was not yet acquainted with the art of thieving, she was not admitted to
an equal share of the night's produce; but it was agreed that she should
have two guineas. She now regularly applied two hours every day in
qualifying herself for an expert thief, by attending to the instructions
of experienced practitioners; and, in a short time, she was
distinguished as the most ingenious and successful adventurer of the
whole gang. A young fellow of genteel appearance, who was a member of
the club, was singled out by her as the partner of her bed; and they
cohabited for a considerable time as husband and wife.
In a few months our heroine became so expert in her profession as to
acquire great consequence among her associates, who distinguished her by
the appellation of Jenny Diver, on account of her remarkable dexterity;
and as that is the name by which she is more generally recognised in the
anecdotes of her life which follow, we shall so designate her.
Accompanied by one of her female accomplices, Jenny joined the crowd at
the entrance of a place of worship in the Old Jewry, where a popular
divine was to preach, and observing a young gentleman with a diamond
ring on his finger she held out her hand, which he kindly received in
order to assist her. At this juncture she contrived to get possession of
the ring without the knowledge of the owner, after which she slipped
behind her companion, and heard the gentleman say, that, as there was no
probability of gaining admittance, he would return. Upon his leaving the
meeting he missed his ring, and mentioned his loss to the persons who
were near him, adding that he suspected it to be stolen by a woman whom
he had endeavoured to assist in the crowd; but as the thief was unknown
she escaped. This proof of her dexterity was considered so remarkable
that her associates determined to allow her an equal share of all their
booties, even though she should not be present when they were obtained.
In a short time after this exploit she procured a pair of false hands
and arms to be made, and concealing her real ones under her clothes, she
put something beneath her stays so as to make herself appear as if in a
state of pregnancy, and repaired on a Sunday evening to the place of
worship above-mentioned in a sedan chair, one of the gang going before
to procure a seat for her among the genteeler part of the congregation,
and another attending in the character of a footman[missing hyphen].
Jenny being seated between two elderly ladies, each of whom had a gold
watch by her side, she conducted herself with great seeming devotion;
but, the service being nearly concluded, she seized the opportunity,
when the ladies were standing up, of stealing their watches, which she
delivered to an accomplice in an adjoining pew. The devotions being
ended, the congregation were preparing to depart, when the ladies
discovered their loss, and a violent clamour ensued. One of the parties
exclaimed "That her watch must have been taken either by the devil or
the pregnant woman!" on which the other said, "She could vindicate the
pregnant lady, whose hands she was sure had not been removed from her
lap during the whole time of her being in the pew."
Flushed with the success of the adventure, our heroine determined to
pursue her good fortune; and as another sermon was to be preached the
same evening, she adjourned to an adjacent public-house, where, without
either pain or difficulty, she soon reduced the protuberance of her
waist, and having entirely changed her dress, she returned to the
meeting, where she had not remained long before she picked a gentleman's
pocket of a gold watch, with which she escaped unsuspected. Her
accomplices also were industrious and successful; for, on a division of
the booty obtained this evening, they each received thirty guineas.
These acts procured for her universal respect among her fellows, and in
all their future transactions they yielded an exact obedience to her
wishes.
The game which she had played having been found so successful, Jenny
again assumed the appearance of a pregnant woman, and, attended by an
accomplice as a footman, went towards St. James's Park on a day when the
king was going to the House of Lords; and, there being a great number of
persons between the Park and Spring Gardens, she purposely slipped down,
and was instantly surrounded by many of both sexes, who were emulous to
afford her assistance; but, affecting to be in violent pain, she
intimated to them that she was desirous of remaining on the ground till
she should be somewhat recovered. As she expected, the crowd increased,
and her pretended footman, and a female accomplice, were so industrious
as to obtain two diamond girdle-buckles, a gold watch, a gold snuff-box,
and two purses, containing together upwards of forty guineas. The
girdle-buckles, watch, and snuff-box, were the following day advertised,
a considerable reward was offered, and a promise given that no questions
should be asked of the party who should return them; but our heroine
declaring that their restoration would entirely break down the
principles upon which their association was conducted, they were sold to
the Jews in Duke's-place.
Ever fertile in inventions, she proceeded with her supposed servant to
the east-end of the town, and observing a genteel house, the latter
knocked and begged that his mistress, who had been taken suddenly ill,
might be permitted to enter to rest herself a few minutes. The request
was complied with; and while the mistress of the house and the servant
were up stairs seeking such things as might be supposed to afford relief
to their visitor, she opened a drawer and stole sixty guineas; and
afterwards, while the lady was holding a smelling-bottle to her nose,
she picked her pocket of a purse, containing, however, only a small sum.
Her supposed servant, in the mean while, was not idle, and having been
ordered into the kitchen, he pocketed six silver table-spoons, a
pepper-box, and a salt-cellar. All the available booty having now been
secured, the servant was sent for a coach, and Jenny, pretending to be
somewhat recovered, went away, saying that she was the wife of a
respectable merchant in Thames-street, and pressing her entertainer to
dine with her on a certain day, which she appointed. The impudence of
these frauds, however, soon attracted public attention, and it was found
that some new plan must be determined upon, by which the public might be
gulled.
Until some novel method of robbing should be devised, however, it was
determined that the gang should go to Bristol, to seek adventures and
profit during the fair; and in order to render their proceedings the
more likely to be successful, they admitted into their society a man who
had long subsisted there as a thief. Jenny and Murphy now assumed the
character of merchants' wives, while the new member and another of the
gang appeared as country farmers, and the footman was continued in the
same character. They took lodgings in different parts of the city; and
they agreed, that in case of any of them being apprehended, the rest
should appear to speak to the character of the prisoners, and
representing them to be persons of reputation in London, endeavour to
procure their release.
Being one day in the fair, they observed a west-country clothier giving
a sum of money to his servant, and heard him direct the man to deposit
it in a bureau. They followed the servant, and one of them fell down
before him, expecting that he would also fall, and that, as there was a
great crowd, the money might be easily secured; but though the man fell
into the snare, they were not able to obtain their expected booty, and
therefore had recourse to the following stratagem:--One of the gang
asked the man whether his master had not lately ordered him to carry
home a sum of money; to which the other replied in the affirmative; and
the sharper then told him that he must return to his master, who had
purchased some goods, and waited to pay for them. The countryman
followed him to Jenny's lodgings, and, being introduced to her, she
desired him to be seated, saying his master was gone on some business in
the neighbourhood, but had left orders for him to wait till his return.
She urged him to drink a glass of wine, but the poor fellow declined her
offers with awkward simplicity, the pretended footman having taught him
to believe her a woman of great wealth and consequence. Her encouraging
solicitations, however, conquered his bashfulness, and he drank till he
became intoxicated. Being conducted into another apartment, he soon fell
fast asleep, and, while in that situation, he was robbed of the money he
had received from his master, which proved to be a hundred pounds. They
were no sooner in possession of the cash, than they discharged the
demand of the inn-keeper, and set out in the first stage for London.
Soon after their return to town Jenny and her associates went to London
Bridge in the dusk of the evening, and, observing a lady standing at a
door to avoid the carriages, a number of which were passing, one of the
men went up to her, and, under pretence of giving her assistance, seized
both her hands, which he held till his accomplices had rifled her
pockets of a gold snuff-box, a silver case containing a set of
instruments, and thirty guineas in cash.
On the following day, as Jenny, and an accomplice, in the character of a
footman, were walking through Change Alley, she picked a gentleman's
pocket of a bank-note for two hundred pounds, for which she received one
hundred and thirty from a Jew, with whom the gang had very extensive
connexions.
Our heroine now hired a real footman; and her favourite, who had long
acted in that character, assumed the appearance of a gentleman; and they
hired lodgings in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, that they might
more conveniently attend the theatres. She dressed herself in an elegant
manner, and went to the theatre one evening when the king was to be
present; and, during the performance, she attracted the particular
attention of a young gentleman of fortune from Yorkshire, who declared,
in the most passionate terms, that she had made an absolute conquest,
and earnestly solicited that he might be permitted to attend her home.
She at first refused to comply with his request, saying that she was
newly married, but she at length yielded to his entreaties, and he
accompanied her to her door in a hackney-coach, and quitted her only on
her promising to admit him on a future evening, when, she said, her
husband would be out of town. The day of appointment being arrived, two
of the gang were equipped in elegant liveries; and Anne Murphy appeared
as waiting-maid. The gentleman soon made his appearance, having a
gold-headed cane in his hand, a sword by his side with a gold hilt, and
wearing a gold watch and a diamond ring. Being introduced to the
bed-chamber, he was soon deprived of his ring; and he had not undressed
many minutes before the lady's-maid knocked violently at the door,
exclaiming that her master was suddenly returned. Jenny affected to be
labouring under the most violent agitation, and begged that the
gentleman would cover himself with the bed-clothes, saying that she
would convey his apparel into the other room, so that, if her husband
came there, nothing would appear to awaken his suspicion; and adding
that, under pretence of indisposition, she would prevail upon her
husband to sleep in another bed, and then return to the arms of her
lover. The gull acquiesced, and the clothes being removed, a short
consultation was held among the thieves, the result of which was that
they immediately decamped, carrying their booty with them, which,
exclusive of the cane &c., was worth a hundred guineas.
The amorous youth meanwhile waited with anxious impatience for the
coming of his Dulcinea; but morning having arrived, he rang the bell,
and the people of the house coming to him, found that he was locked in,
the fair fugitive having carried off the key with her. The door was,
however, burst open, and an éclaircissement ensued, when the gentleman
explained the manner in which he had been treated; but the people of the
house, deaf to his expostulations, threatened to publish the adventure
through the town, unless he would make up the loss which they had
sustained. Rather than risk the safety of his reputation, he sent for
money and some clothes and discharged the debt which Jenny had
contracted, quitting the house, bitterly repenting that his amorous
qualities should have led him into such a scrape.
The continuance of the system under which this gang pursued its labours
became now impossible, and they found it necessary to leave the
metropolis; but having committed numerous depredations in the country,
they returned, and Jenny was unfortunately apprehended on a charge of
picking a gentleman's pocket, for which she was sentenced to be
transported.
She remained nearly four months in Newgate, during which time she
employed a considerable sum in the purchase of stolen effects; and when
she went on board the transport vessel, she shipped a quantity of goods
nearly sufficient to load a waggon. The property she possessed ensured
her great respect, and every possible convenience and accommodation
during the voyage; and on her arrival in Virginia, she disposed of her
goods, and for some time lived in great splendour and elegance. She soon
found, however, that America was a country where she could expect but
little emolument from the practices she had so successfully followed in
England, and she therefore employed every art she was mistress of to
ingratiate herself with a young gentleman, who was preparing to embark
on board a vessel bound for the port of London. He became much enamoured
of her, and brought her to England; but while the ship lay at Gravesend,
she robbed him of all the property she could get into her possession,
and pretending indisposition, intimated a desire of going on shore, in
which her admirer acquiesced; but she was no sooner on land than she
made a precipitate retreat.
She now travelled through various parts of the country; and having by
her usual wicked practices obtained many considerable sums, she at
length returned to London, but was not able to find her former
accomplices. She frequented the Royal Exchange, the theatres,
London-bridge, and other places of public resort, and committed
innumerable depredations on the public; but being again detected in
picking a gentleman's pocket on London-bridge, she was taken before a
magistrate, to whom she declared that her name was Jane Webb, and by
that appellation she was committed to Newgate.
On her trial, a gentleman who had detected her in the very act of
picking the prosecutor's pocket, deposed that a person had applied to
him, offering fifty pounds, on condition that he should not appear in
support of the prosecution: and a lady swore that on the day the
prisoner committed the offence for which she stood indicted, she saw her
pick the pockets of more than twenty different people. The record of her
former conviction was not produced in court, and therefore she was
arraigned for privately stealing only, and, on the clearest evidence,
the jury pronounced her guilty. The property being valued at less than
one shilling, she was sentenced to transportation.
Twelve months had not elapsed before she returned from exile a second
time; and on her arrival in London, she renewed her former practices. A
lady going from Sherborne-lane to Walbrook was accosted by a man, who
took her hand, seemingly as if to assist her in crossing some planks
which were placed over the gutter for the convenience of passengers; but
he squeezed her fingers with so much force as to give her great pain,
and in the mean time Jenny picked her pocket of thirteen shillings and a
penny. The gentlewoman, conscious of being robbed, seized the thief by
the gown, and she was immediately conducted to the Compter. She was
examined the next day by the lord mayor, who committed her to Newgate
for trial.
At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, she was tried on an
indictment charging her with privately stealing; and a verdict of guilty
having been brought in, she was sentenced to death.
After conviction she appeared to have a due sense of the awful situation
in which she was placed; and employing a great part of her time in
devotion, she repented sincerely of the course of iniquity in which she
had so long persisted. On the day preceding that of her execution, she
sent for the woman who nursed her child, which was then about three
years old, and saying that there was a person who would pay for its
maintenance, she earnestly entreated that it might be carefully
instructed in the duties of religion. On the following morning she
appeared to be in a serene state of mind. The preparations in the
press-yard for a moment shook her fortitude, but her spirits were soon
again tolerably composed. She was conveyed to Tyburn in a
mourning-coach, being attended by a clergyman, to whom she declared her
firm belief in the principles of the Protestant Church. Her remains
were, at her own desire, buried in St. Pancras churchyard.
Her execution took place on the 18th March, 1740.
CHARLES DREW.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS FATHER.
The only circumstance of peculiarity attending this case, and it is one
indeed, we are happy to say, not a little singular, is that the
malefactor was the son of the man whom he murdered. The father being
possessed of good property at Long Melford in Suffolk, discarded his
son, who appears to have been brought up without any education being
imparted to him, on account of his connexion with a woman named
Elizabeth Boyer. The latter, angered at the contempt exhibited for her,
urged her paramour, as well for revenge as for the accession to their
means, which would be produced by the old man's death, to commit the
foul deed which cost him his life. He was apprehended at the instance of
a relation, a Mr. Timothy Drew, and being convicted, was executed on the
9th April, 1740, at St. Edmund's Bury, being in the twenty-fifth year of
his age.
This case so nearly resembles the celebrated story of George Barnwell,
that the following anecdote in reference to the tragedy of that name
will not be misplaced here. It is related in reference to Mr. Ross,
formerly a tragedian of considerable celebrity.
"A gentleman, much dejected in his looks, called one day on Ross, when
stricken with years, and told him that his father, a wealthy citizen in
London, lay at the point of death, and begged that he might see him, or
he could not die in peace of mind. Curious as this request appeared from
a stranger, and in such extremity, the actor hesitated; but being much
pressed by his visitor, he agreed to accompany him. Arrived at the house
of the sick man, Mr. Ross was announced, and soon admitted into his
chamber; but observing the family to retire, and being left alone with
the patient, his wonder was again aroused. The dying penitent, now three
score years and ten, casting his languid eyes upon Ross, said, 'Can it
be you who raised my fortune--who saved my life? Then were you young
like myself; ay, and amiable amid the direst misfortunes. I determined
to amend my life, and avoid your fate.' Here nature in a struggle with
death became overpowered, and as the sick man's head fell upon his
pillow, he faintly ejaculated, 'O Barnwell! Barnwell!' We may conceive
the astonishment of the player, whom age had long incapacitated from
representing the unfortunate 'London Apprentice.' The feeble man,
renewing his efforts to gratify a dying desire, again opened his eyes
and continued: 'Mr. Ross, some forty years ago, like George Barnwell, I
wronged my master to supply the unbounded extravagance of a Millwood. I
took her to see your performance, which so shocked me that I silently
vowed to break the connexion then by my side, and return to the path of
virtue. I kept my resolution, and replaced the money I had stolen before
my villany was detected. I bore up against the upbraidings of my
deluder, and found a Maria in my master's daughter. We married. I soon
succeeded to her father's business, and the young man who brought you
here was the first pledge of our love. I have more children, or I would
have shown my gratitude to you by a larger sum than I have bequeathed
you; but take a thousand pounds affixed to your name.' At the dying
man's signal, old Ross left the room overwhelmed by his feelings."
CAPTAIN SAMUEL GOODERE, MATTHEW MAHONY, AND CHARLES WHITE.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF SIR JOHN D. GOODERE, BART.
This atrocious murder was committed through the instrumentality of
Captain Samuel Goodere, upon his brother Sir John Dineley Goodere, on
board a man of war, of which the former was Captain.
Sir John, it appears, was possessed of an estate of 3000_l._ per annum,
situated at Evesham, in Worcestershire, which he derived from his
father, Sir Edward: and his brother, who is the subject of this sketch,
having been bred to the sea, was advanced to the rank of Captain of one
of his Majesty's vessels of war. Sir John having no children, very
sanguine expectations were entertained by his brother that he should
inherit his property, but upon his discovering that he had made a will
in favour of their sister's children, his rage knew no bounds, and he
determined upon a most diabolical revenge for the supposed injury which
he had received. The vessel of which Captain Goodere had the command, it
appears, was employed as one of the Channel cruisers, and in the month
of January, 1741, it was lying at Bristol. At this period it happened
that Sir John Goodere was in that city, transacting some business with
Mr. Smith, an attorney; and his brother having been made acquainted with
the circumstance, fixed upon this as a proper time to put his plan into
execution. Throwing himself into Mr. Smith's way, he assured him that a
perfect reconciliation had taken place between them, notwithstanding a
misunderstanding which was known to have existed; and after some
conversation, learning that his brother was going to dine with that
gentleman on a certain day, he procured himself to be invited to meet
him. Having determined upon this as a favourable opportunity to carry
his design into execution, on his going ashore he carried with him some
of his seamen, to whom he gave instructions that Sir John being insane,
he desired to procure him to be carried on board his ship, in order that
he might be conveyed to a place of safety. The men therefore, having
been regaled during the evening at a neighbouring public-house, as night
approached placed themselves in readiness to obey the orders which they
had received; and Sir John making his appearance, they seized him and
forcibly put him into a boat, in which they directly rowed him to the
vessel. The protestations made by the captain, that it was only a
deserter whom they were apprehending, silenced all inquiry from the
crowd which had assembled on their perceiving this outrage, and the
unfortunate baronet was secured without an effort being made to procure
his release, or to save him from the bloody fate which awaited him.
As soon as the devoted victim was in the boat, he said to his brother,
"I know you have an intention to murder me; and if you are ready to do
it, let me beg that it may be done here, without giving yourself the
trouble to take me on board;" to which the captain said, "No, brother, I
am going to prevent your rotting on land; but, however, I would have you
make your peace with God this night."
Sir John having reached the vessel, he called to the seamen for help,
but they having learned their captain's commands from their fellows, did
not offer to render the slightest aid, and the wretched gentleman was
immediately conveyed to the purser's cabin.
White and Mahony were selected by their captain as the performers in the
dreadful scene which was now to be enacted. While Goodere stood at the
entrance of the cabin guarding it with a drawn sword, his two assistants
entered it, and approached their victim. He cried aloud for mercy,
offering all he possessed as a return, if they would spare his life;
but, regardless of his prayers, they deliberately proceeded to the
completion of their sanguinary intentions. Seizing him by the shoulders,
they threw him on the deck, and there, with a handkerchief which they
took from his pocket, they attempted to strangle him. Finding that their
efforts were unavailing, they procured a cord from their guilty
commander, with which they speedily despatched him; White kneeling on
his breast and holding his hands, while Mahony fixed the cord round his
throat, and tightened it until strangulation had taken place. They then
accompanied their captain to his cabin, who gave them the sum agreed
upon for their services, and bid them seek their safety in flight. The
murder was soon made known on shore, through the instrumentality of the
crew of the vessel; and the circumstance having come to the knowledge of
Mr. Smith, the attorney, he procured a warrant to be issued, upon which
the officers of the city proceeded on board the ship. They found that
the captain had there been already put under arrest by the lieutenant
and sailing-master, and he was immediately conveyed in custody to the
prison of the town. It was not long before Mahony and White were also
secured; and the prisoners being brought to trial at Bristol, on the
26th March, 1741, they were convicted on the clearest evidence, and
sentenced to death.
Captain Goodere's time, after conviction, was spent chiefly in writing
letters to persons of rank, to make interest to save his life; and his
wife and daughter presented a petition to the king: but all endeavours
of this kind proving ineffectual, he employed a man to hire some
colliers to rescue him on his way to the fatal tree.
His efforts in this respect, however, were as unavailing as those which
he had made to procure a mitigation of his punishment; for the
circumstance having been made known to the sheriff, he took such steps
as were deemed expedient and necessary to prevent the success of the
project. The wretched companions in guilt of the captain exhibited the
greatest hardihood; and when the jailers were employed in putting on
their irons, they declared that they had no fear of death.
Captain Goodere's wife and daughter, dressed in deep mourning, took a
solemn leave of him on the day before his death; and he went in a
mourning-coach to the place of execution, to which his accomplices were
conveyed in a cart.
They were hanged near the Hot Wells, Bristol, on the 20th of April,
1741, within view of the place where the ship lay when the murder was
committed.
JOHN BODKIN, DOMINICK BODKIN, AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
Oliver Bodkin, Esq. was a gentleman who possessed a good estate near
Tuam, in Ireland. He had two sons by two wives. The elder son, named
John, to whom this narrative chiefly relates, was sent to Dublin to
study the law; and the younger, who was about seven years of age,
remained at home with his parents. The young student lived in a very
dissipated manner at Dublin, and soon quitting his studies, came and
resided near his father's place of abode. The father allowed him a
certain annual sum for his support; but, as he lived beyond his
allowance, he demanded farther assistance. The father, however, refusing
to accede to his wishes, he determined upon a horrible revenge, and
included his mother-in-law in his proposed scheme of vengeance, as he
imagined that she had induced his father to refuse him any further aid.
Having engaged his cousin, Dominick Bodkin, his father's shepherd, John
Hogan, and another ruffian of the name of Burke, to assist him in the
intended murders, they went to the house of Mr. Bodkin, senior; whose
household consisted of four men and three women servants, exclusive of
Mrs. Bodkin and the younger son, and a gentleman named Lynch, who was at
that time on a visit there. They found all the members of the family at
supper on their arrival, and having murdered them, they went into the
kitchen, where they killed three servant-maids; and, finding the men in
different parts of the house, they also sacrificed them to their brutal
and unprovoked rage. The murder of eleven persons being thus
perpetrated, they quitted the fatal spot; and, when some persons from
Tuam came the next morning to speak with Mr. Bodkin on business, they
found the house open, and beheld the dead body of Mr. Lynch, near which
lay that of Mrs. Bodkin, hacked and mangled in a shocking manner; and,
at a small distance, her husband, with his throat cut, and the child
lying dead across his breast. The throats of the maid-servants in the
kitchen were all cut; and the men-servants in another room were also
found murdered. The assassins had even been so wanton in their cruelties
as to kill all the dogs and cats in the house. The neighbours being
alarmed by such a singular instance of barbarity, a suspicion fell on
John Bodkin; who, being taken into custody, confessed all the tragical
circumstances above-mentioned, and impeached his accomplices: on which
the other offenders were taken into custody, and all of them were
committed to the jail of Tuam.
The shepherd then confessed that he had murdered two; but that thinking
to preserve the boy, to whom he had been foster-father, he besmeared him
with blood, and laid him near his father. Dominick, perceiving him
alive, killed him; and he afterwards murdered five more. John Bodkin
owned that he and Burke killed the remainder; that he had formerly
attempted to poison his mother-in-law; and that he was concerned with
his first-cousins, John Bodkin, then living, and Frank Bodkin, then
lately dead, in strangling Dominick Bodkin, their brother, heir of the
late Counsellor John Bodkin, of Carobegg, to an estate of nine hundred
pounds a year.
When they were brought to trial, John Bodkin, (the parricide), Dominick
Bodkin, and John Hogan, pleaded guilty; and they were all condemned, and
executed at Tuam on the 26th of March, 1742. The head of the shepherd
was fixed on Tuam market-house, and the bodies of the others gibbeted
within sight of the house where the murders had been committed.
Upon the confession of John, the cousin of the same name was apprehended
for the murder of his elder brother, Dominick Bodkin, and accused of
sitting on his mouth and breast until he was suffocated. He was taken in
a moss, or turf bog, near Tuam, covered over with straw, and disguised
in an old hat and peasant's clothes, for which he had given his own
laced coat and hat. Being examined before Lord Athenry, he said that he
had fled for fear of being loaded with irons in a jail, and denied
having any hand in his brother Dominick's death, affirming that he had
died of a surfeit, as had been reported. He was present at the execution
of his relations, but confessed nothing; and thus (there being no
positive proof against him) he escaped justice.
A case in which more cold-blooded cruelty has been displayed than in
this, has seldom fallen under our notice. The murder of an indulgent
parent must be insufferably shocking to every humane mind: but when we
consider, as in the present instance, what a variety of unprovoked
murders were added to the first, the mind is lost in astonishment at the
baseness, the barbarity, the worse than savage degeneracy of those
beings who could perpetrate such horrid deeds.
[Illustration: _Jonathan Bradford discovered at the bedside of M.
Hayes._]
JONATHAN BRADFORD.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The details of this case reach us in a very abridged form; and we have
been unable to collect any information on which any reliance can be
placed beyond that which is afforded us by the ordinary channels. It
would appear that Jonathan Bradford kept an inn in the city of Oxford. A
gentleman, (Mr. Hayes), attended by a man-servant, put up one evening at
Bradford's house; and in the night, the former being found murdered in
his bed, the landlord was apprehended on suspicion of having committed
the barbarous and inhospitable crime. The evidence given against him was
to the following effect:--Two gentlemen who had supped with Mr. Hayes,
and who retired at the same time to their respective chambers, being
alarmed in the night with a noise in his room, and soon hearing groans
as of a wounded man, got up in order to discover the cause, and found
their landlord, with a dark lantern and a knife in his hand, standing in
a state of astonishment and horror over his dying guest, who almost
instantly expired.
On this evidence, apparently conclusive, the jury convicted Bradford,
and he was executed. But the fate of this man may serve as a lesson to
jurymen to be extremely guarded in receiving circumstantial evidence.
The facts attending the above dreadful tragedy were not fully brought to
light until the death-bed confession of the real murderer; a time when
we must all endeavour to make our peace with God.
Mr. Hayes was a man of considerable property, and greatly respected. He
had about him, when his sad destiny led him under the roof of Bradford,
a considerable sum of money; and the landlord knowing this, determined
to murder and rob him. For this horrid purpose he proceeded with a dark
lantern and a carving-knife, intending to cut the throat of his guest
while yet sleeping; but what must have been his astonishment and
confusion to find his intended victim already murdered, and weltering in
his blood!
The wicked and unworthy servant had also determined on the murder of his
master; and had committed the bloody deed, and secured his treasure, a
moment before the landlord entered for the same purpose.
THE EARL OF KILMARNOCK, AND LORD BALMERINO.
BEHEADED FOR HIGH TREASON.
A short account of the circumstances attending the rebellion of 1715
having been given in this work, some notice will, doubtless, be expected
of the second transaction of the same character, and with the same
object, which occurred in the year 1745.
It appears that the Pretender having gained the protection of France,
and the French also having their own interests to serve, it was
determined that a second attempt to restore the Stuarts to the throne of
England should be made by the descent of a body of men upon Scotland,
where it was conjectured numbers would render assistance, which was
eventually to march forward towards London, and expel the reigning
monarch. The design was evidently known to the government, from an
allusion made to the circumstance by the king in his speech from the
throne on the 2nd May, 1745; but the first notice which the British
public had of the proceedings of the Pretender, was from a paragraph in
the _General Evening Post_, which said, "The Pretender's eldest son put
to sea July 14th, from France, in an armed ship of sixty guns, provided
with a large quantity of warlike stores, together with a frigate of
thirty guns and a number of smaller armed vessels, in order to land in
Scotland, where he expected to find twenty thousand men in arms, to make
good his father's pretensions to the crown of Great Britain. He was to
be joined by five ships of the line from Brest; and four thousand five
hundred Spaniards were embarking at Ferrol."
The government, it appears, was not inactive on this occasion, and
proper instructions were given to such of the king's vessels as were
cruising in the Channel, to prevent the approach of any ships which
might be supposed to carry the leader of this rebellious attempt.
The young Pretender, followed by about fifty Scotch and Irish
adventurers, meanwhile, came _incog._ through Normandy, and embarked on
board a ship of war of eighteen guns, which was joined off Belleisle by
the Elizabeth, and other ships. They intended to have sailed northwards,
and to have landed in Scotland; but on the 20th they came up with an
English fleet of merchant-vessels, under convoy of the Lion man-of-war,
of fifty-eight guns, commanded by Captain Brett, who immediately bore
down upon the French line-of-battle ship, which he engaged within
pistol-shot five hours, being constantly annoyed by the smaller ships of
the enemy. The rigging of the Lion was cut to pieces; her mizen-mast,
mizentop-mast, main-yard and fore-topsail, were shot away; all her lower
masts and topmasts shot through in many places, so that she lay muzzled
on the sea, and could do nothing with her sails. Thus situated, the
French ships sheered off, and the Lion could make no effort to follow
them. Captain Brett had forty-five men killed: himself, all his
lieutenants; the master, several midshipmen, and one hundred and seven
foremast-men, wounded. His principal antagonist, the Elizabeth, with
difficulty got back to Brest, quite disabled, and had sixty-four men
killed, one hundred and thirty-nine dangerously wounded, and a number
more slightly injured. She had on board four hundred thousand pounds
sterling, and arms and ammunition for several thousand men.
The friends of the Stuart cause in Scotland were in the mean time as
active as their opponents, and committed many irregularities for the
purpose of supplying their ranks with a sufficient number of soldiers;
and being thus prepared, anxiously expected the arrival of their prince.
The latter found means to join his supporters by a small vessel, in
which he quitted the French coast; and eluding the vigilance of the
English cruisers, he landed on the Isle of Skye, opposite to Lochaber,
in the county of Inverness. After a lapse of about three weeks, he
appeared at the head of a body of two thousand men, under a standard
bearing the motto "_Tandem triumphans_"--"At length triumphant," and
marching his army to Fort William, he there published a manifesto,
signed by his father at Rome, containing many promises to those who
would adhere to his cause, amongst which were undertakings that he
would procure the dissolution of the union of the two kingdoms, and the
payment of the national debt. The country people flocked in great
numbers to his standard; and the mob, by which he was followed, soon
assumed the appearance, in numbers at least, of an army. Their first
attempt in arms, in opposition to two companies of foot, of the St.
Clair and Murray's regiments, was successful, the soldiers being far
inferior in numbers; and the rebels immediately marched upon Perth, and
having taken possession of that place, the Pretender issued his orders
for all persons who held public money to pay it into the hands of his
secretary. Dundee and Dumblain were successively seized by his soldiers;
and at length, on the 14th September, the Pretender proceeded through
the Royal Park and took possession of Holyrood House.
The money in the bank of Edinburgh, and the records in the public
offices, were now removed to the castle for security, and the gates of
the city were kept fast during the whole day; but five hundred of the
rebels, having concealed themselves in the suburbs, took an opportunity,
at four o'clock in the morning, to follow a coach which was going in,
and seizing the gate called the Netherbow, they maintained their ground,
while the main body reached the centre of the city, and formed
themselves in the Parliament Close.
Thus possessed of the Scottish capital, they seized two thousand stand
of arms, and on the following day marched to oppose the royal army under
the command of General Cope. The two armies coming in sight of each
other, near Preston Pans, on the evening of the 20th, Colonel Gardiner
earnestly recommended it to the general to attack his opponents during
the night; but, deaf to this advice, he kept the men under arms till
morning, though they were already greatly harassed. At five in the
morning, the rebels made a furious attack on the royal army, which was
thrown into unspeakable confusion by two regiments of dragoons falling
back on the foot. Colonel Gardiner, with five hundred foot, behaved with
uncommon valour, and covered the retreat of those who fled; but the
colonel receiving a mortal wound, the rebels made prisoners of nearly
all the rest of the king's troops.
The loss thus sustained by the royal army, was three hundred killed,
four hundred and fifty wounded, five hundred and twenty taken
prisoners,--total one thousand two hundred and seventy, while the rebels
only lost fifty men in all. Flushed with this partial victory, the
rebels returned to Edinburgh to make an attack upon the castle, and
attempted to throw up an entrenchment upon the hill; but notice having
been given to the inhabitants to retire, the battery was attacked by the
guns from above, the works destroyed, and thirty of the assailants
killed, besides three of the inhabitants who rashly ventured near the
spot. The rebel army remained during seven weeks in this city; and many
noblemen and gentlemen with their followers having joined it, a force of
more than ten thousand men was at length mustered. In November they
marched upon Carlisle, and after some resistance had been shown, it was
surrendered, and the insurgents then forced their way to Manchester,
where a regiment, chiefly formed of Roman Catholics, was raised.
But now such decisive measures were taken as put an end very shortly to
the insurrection. The Duke of Cumberland was at this time in Flanders,
with the army, but being sent for thence, he soon arrived to take the
command of the royal forces. About the time he reached London, the
rebels had advanced as far as Derby; but his royal highness lost no time
in travelling into Staffordshire, where he collected all the force he
could, to stop their farther inroads into the kingdom.
Liverpool had not been behind London in spirit and loyalty. The
inhabitants contributed largely in assisting the royal army, at this
inclement season, with warm clothing, and raised several companies of
armed men, which were called the Royal Liverpool Blues. Some of the
advanced parties of rebels having appeared in sight of the town, every
preparation was made to resist them; but, finding at length that the
Pretender bent his march by another route for Manchester, the Liverpool
Blues marched in order to destroy the bridges, and thereby impede their
progress.
Notwithstanding these impediments, the rebels crossed the Mersey at
different fords, through which the Pretender waded breast-high in water.
Their numbers could not be accurately ascertained, their march being
straggling and unequal, but about nine thousand appeared to be the
aggregate. Their train of artillery consisted of sixteen field-pieces of
three and four pound shot, two carriages of gunpowder, a number of
covered waggons, and about one hundred horses, laden with ammunition.
Their van-guard consisted of about two hundred cavalry, badly mounted,
the horses appearing poor and jaded. The Pretender himself constantly
marched on foot, at the head of two regiments, one of which was
appropriated as his body guard. His dress was a light plaid, belted
about with a sash of blue silk: he wore a grey wig, with a blue bonnet,
and a white rose in it, and appeared very dejected at this time. His
followers were ordinary, except the two regiments mentioned, which
appeared to have been picked out of the whole. The arms of the others
were very indifferent. Some had guns, others only pistols, the remainder
broad-swords and targets. In order to deceive the Duke of Cumberland,
all sorts of reports as to the future route of the rebels were sent
abroad, but the King's troops were concentrated at Northampton, a spot
well suited for the purpose, as it was the road which it was most
probable would be taken, in the event of the Pretender advancing upon
London, which was known to be his real intention. Meanwhile the rebels
appeared unconscious of the danger they were bringing upon themselves by
delay, and they remained during a considerable time endeavouring to
raise recruits. They at length, however, set forward on their march
southwards, but they had not advanced more than a mile before they
halted, held a consultation, wheeled round, and retraced their steps to
Derby. Having there seized all the plunder they could lay their hands
upon, they passed on, seeking to regain Scotland, where they had learned
that their friends had been joined by some French troops. The Duke of
Cumberland, in the mean time, being aware of their flight, followed them
with all speed, and learning that they had been compelled to halt at
Preston, from excessive weariness, he redoubled his efforts to come up
with them. By forced marches, travelling through ice and snow, he
succeeded in reaching Preston in three days, but he found that his game
had retired about four hours before him. The Pretender soon learned that
the excesses, of which his men had been guilty in their southward march,
were not to go unpunished, and wherever he went he found himself opposed
and harassed by the enraged country people, who lost no opportunity of
annoying him in his retreat, and of seizing the stragglers from his
army. At length, however, after repeated forced marches the Duke of
Cumberland came up with his antagonists at Lowther Hall; and the latter
dreading his approach, immediately threw themselves into the village of
Clifton, three miles from Penryth. They were there attacked most
vigorously and successfully by the dragoons, who had dismounted, and in
about an hour's time they were driven away from the post which they
occupied. They retreated forthwith to Carlisle, which was still in their
possession; but the continued advance of the royal troops induced them
again to retire, leaving only a garrison to oppose the entry of the Duke
into that city. The besieged fired upon their assailants with great
fury, but did little execution; and at length a battery having been
raised against them, they sent out a flag of truce, and surrendered upon
terms that they should not be put to the sword, but reserved for the
king's pleasure, and thus Carlisle was once more taken possession of by
the troops of his majesty.
The army of rebels made the best of their way now to Glasgow, where they
levied contributions, and thence to Stirling, which was in possession of
the English, and was commanded by the gallant General Blakeney. The
gates could not be defended, and they therefore marched in, and summoned
the garrison to surrender; but the veteran commander answered that "he
would perish in its ruins rather than make terms with rebels." In the
river of the town were two English men-of-war; and the rebels, in order
to prevent their going farther up, erected a battery, but the ships soon
destroyed it, and caused them to retreat a mile, where they erected
another, but did little execution. They now prepared for a vigorous
attack upon the castle, got some heavy pieces of ordnance across the
Forth, erected a battery against it, and called in all their forces.
General Blakeney fired upon them, and repeatedly drove them from their
works. General Hawley, in aid of his brother general, at the head of
such troops as he could form in order of battle, marched to attempt to
raise the siege; but the rebels made a desperate attack, and, aided by
accident, obtained the advantage. Repeated skirmishes subsequently took
place, but at length this system of warfare, so destructive to the
general state of the country, was terminated by the decisive victory
gained by the Duke of Cumberland, at the head of the Royal forces, at
the battle of Culloden. The Pretender, at the head of his army, opposed
the Duke, and the following, taken from the London Gazette, is the
conqueror's account of the battle:--
"On Tuesday the 15th of April the rebels burnt Fort Augustus, which
convinced us of their resolution to stand an engagement with the King's
troops. We gave our men a day's halt at Nairn, and on the 16th marched
from thence, between four and five, in four columns. The three lines of
foot (reckoning the reserve for one) were broken into three from the
right, which made the three columns equal, and each of five battalions.
The artillery and baggage followed the first column upon the right, and
the cavalry made the fourth column on the left. After we had marched
about eight miles, our advanced guard, composed of about forty of
Kingston's, and the Highlanders, led by the quarter-master-general,
perceived the rebels at some distance, making a motion towards us on the
left, upon which we immediately formed; but finding the rebels were
still a good way from us, we put ourselves again upon our march in our
former posture, and continued it to within a mile of them, where we
formed in the same order as before. After reconnoitring their situation,
we found them posted behind some old walls and huts, in a line with
Culloden House. As we thought our right entirely secure, General Hawley
and General Bland went to the left with two regiments of dragoons, to
endeavour to fall upon the right flank of the rebels; and Kingston's
horse was ordered to the reserve. The ten pieces of cannon were
disposed, two in each of the intervals of the first line; and all our
Highlanders (except 140, which were upon the left with General Hawley,
and who behaved extremely well) were left to guard the baggage. When we
were advanced within 500 yards of the rebels, we found the morass upon
our right was ended, which left our right flank quite uncovered to them;
his Royal Highness thereupon immediately ordered Kingston's horse from
the reserve, and a little squadron of about sixty of Cobham's, which had
been patrolling, to cover our flank. We spent about half an hour after
that, trying which should gain the flank of the other; and his Royal
Highness having sent Lord Bury forward within a hundred yards of the
rebels, to reconnoitre something that appeared like a battery to us,
they thereupon began firing their cannon, which was extremely
ill-pointed and ill-served; ours answered them, which began their
confusion. They then came running on, in their wild manner, and upon the
right, where his Royal Highness had placed himself, imagining the
greatest push would be there, they came down three several times within
a yard of our men, firing their pistols, and brandishing their swords;
but the Royals and Pulteney's hardly took their firelocks from their
shoulders, so that after those first attempts they made off, and the
little squadrons on our right were sent to pursue them. General Hawley
had, by the help of our Highlanders, beat down two little stone walls,
and came in upon the right flank of their second line. As their whole
body came down to attack at once, their right somewhat outflanked
Burrel's regiment, which was our left; and the greatest part of the
little loss we sustained was there; but Bligh's and Sempil's giving a
fire upon those who had outflanked Burrel's, soon repulsed them; and
Burrel's regiment, and the left of Monro's, fairly beat them with their
bayonets. There was scarce a soldier or officer of Burrel's, and of that
part of Monro's which engaged, who did not kill one or two men each with
their bayonets and spontoons.[8] The cavalry, which had charged from the
right and left, met in the centre, except two squadrons of dragoons,
which we missed, and they were gone in pursuit of the runaways. Lord
Ancram was ordered to pursue with the horse as far as he could; and did
it with so good effect that a very considerable number was killed in the
pursuit. As we were on our march to Inverness, and were nearly arrived
there, Major-General Bland sent the annexed papers, which he received
from the French officers and soldiers, surrendering themselves prisoners
to his Royal Highness. Major-General Bland had also made great
slaughter, and took about fifty French officers and soldiers prisoners
in his pursuit. By the best calculation that can be made, it is thought
the rebels lost two thousand men upon the field of battle and in the
pursuit. We have here one hundred and twenty-two French and three
hundred and twenty-six rebel prisoners. Lieutenant-Colonel Howard killed
an officer, who appeared to be Lord Strathallan, by the seal and
different commissions from the Pretender found in his pocket. It is
said Lord Perth, Lords Nairn, Lochiel, Keppock, and Appin Stuart, are
also killed. All their artillery and ammunition were taken, as well as
the Pretender's, and all their baggage. There were also twelve colours
taken. All the generals, officers, and soldiers, did their utmost duty
in his Majesty's service, and showed the greatest zeal and bravery on
this occasion. The Pretender's son, it is said, lay at Lord Lovat's
house at Aird the night after the action. Brigadier Mordaunt is detached
with nine hundred volunteers this morning into the Frasers' country, to
attack all the rebels he may find there. Lord Sutherland's and Lord
Reay's people continue to exert themselves, and have taken upwards of
one hundred rebels, who are sent for; and there is great reason to
believe Lord Cromartie and his son are also taken. The Monroes have
killed fifty of the rebels in their flight. As it is not known where the
greatest bodies of them are, or which way they have taken in their
flight, his Royal Highness has not yet determined which way to march. On
the 17th, as his Royal Highness was at dinner, three officers, and about
sixteen of Fitz-James's regiment, who were mounted, came and surrendered
themselves prisoners. The killed, wounded, and missing, of the King's
troops, amount to above three hundred. The French officers will be all
sent to Carlisle, till his Majesty's pleasure shall be known. The
rebels, by their own accounts, make their loss greater by two thousand
men than we have stated it. Four of their principal ladies are in
custody, viz. Lady Ogilvie, Lady Kinloch, Lady Gordon, and the Laird of
M'Intosh's wife. Major Grant, the governor of Inverness, is retaken, and
the Generals Hawley, Lord Albemarle, Huske, and Bland, have orders to
inquire into the reasons for his surrendering of Fort George. Lord
Cromartie, Lord M'Leod his son, with other prisoners, are just brought
in from Sutherland, by the Hound sloop, which his Royal Highness has
sent for them; and they are just now landing."
Soon after this affair, several other rebel chiefs were taken into
custody; and on the 28th July 1746, at about eight o'clock in the
morning, the rebel lords were taken from the Tower to Westminster Hall,
to be tried by their peers. The Earl of Kilmarnock and the Earl of
Cromartie pleaded guilty; but Lord Balmerino having denied the offence
imputed to him, six witnesses were called, by whom his guilt was clearly
established, and a verdict was returned accordingly. On the 1st August
the peers were brought up for judgment, when the Lord High Steward
pronounced sentence of death, in terms very like those used in the case
of Earl Cowper, after the former rebellion.
Great interest being exerted to save the earls, it was hinted to
Balmerino that his friends ought to exert themselves in his behalf; to
which, with great magnanimity, he only replied: "I am very indifferent
about my own fate; but had the two noble earls been my friends, they
would have squeezed my name in among theirs."
The Countess of Cromartie, who had a very large family of young
children, was incessant in her applications for the pardon of her
husband; to obtain which she took a very plausible method: she procured
herself to be introduced to the late Princess of Wales, attended by her
children in mourning, and urged her suit in the most suppliant terms.
The princess had at that time several children. Such an argument could
scarcely fail to move; and a pardon was granted to Lord Cromartie on the
condition that he should never reside north of the river Trent. This
condition was literally complied with; and his lordship died in
Soho-square in the year 1766.
On the 18th of August 1746, at six o'clock in the morning, a troop of
life-guards, one of horse-grenadiers, and one thousand of the
foot-guards, marched from the parade in St. James's Park, through the
city to Tower-hill, to attend the execution of the Earl of Kilmarnock
and Lord Balmerino; and being arrived there, were posted in lines from
the Tower to the scaffold, and all round it. About eight o'clock the
sheriffs of London, with their under-sheriffs and officers, met at the
Mitre tavern, in Fenchurch-street, where they breakfasted; and went from
thence to the house lately the Transport Office, Tower-hill, where they
remained until the necessary preparations for the execution were made.
At eleven o'clock they demanded the bodies of the peers of the constable
of the Tower, and they were directly brought forth in procession,
followed by mourning-coaches and two hearses.
The lords were conducted into separate apartments in the house, facing
the steps of the scaffold, their friends being admitted to see them. The
Earl of Kilmarnock was attended by the Rev. Mr. Foster, a dissenting
minister, and the Rev. Mr. Hume, a near relation of the Earl of Hume.
The chaplain of the Tower and another clergyman of the church of England
accompanied the Lord Balmerino. The latter, on entering the door of the
house, hearing several of the spectators ask eagerly, "Which is Lord
Balmerino?" answered, smiling, "I am Lord Balmerino, gentlemen, at your
service." The parlour and passage of the house, the rails enclosing the
way from thence to the scaffold, and the rails about it, were all hung
with black at the sheriffs' expense. Lord Kilmarnock, in the apartment
allotted to him, spent about an hour in his devotions with Mr. Foster,
who assisted him with prayer and exhortation. After which, Lord
Balmerino, pursuant to his request, was admitted to confer with the
earl.
After a short conversation relating to some report as to the Pretender's
orders at the battle of Culloden, they separated, the Lord Balmerino
saluting the noble earl with the same high-minded courtesy which had
been before remarked in him. The Earl of Kilmarnock then joined in
prayer with those around him, and afterwards he took some refreshment.
He expressed a wish that Lord Balmerino should go to the scaffold first;
but being informed that this was impossible, as he was named first in
the warrant, he immediately acquiesced in the arrangement which had been
made, and with his friends proceeded to the place of execution. There
was an immense crowd collected, and on their seeing him they exhibited
the greatest commiseration and pity. The earl being struck with the
variety of dreadful objects which presented themselves to him at once,
exclaimed to Mr. Hume, "This is terrible!" but he exhibited no sign of
fear, nor did he even change countenance or tremble in his voice. After
putting up a short prayer, concluding with a petition for his majesty
King George and the royal family, his lordship embraced and took leave
of his friends. The executioner was so affected by the awfulness of the
scene, that on his asking pardon of the prisoner, he burst into tears.
The noble earl, however, bid him take courage, and presenting him with
five guineas, told him that he would drop his handkerchief as a signal
to him to strike. He then proceeded, with the help of his gentlemen, to
make ready for the block, by taking off his coat, and the bag from his
hair, which was then tucked up under a napkin cap. His neck being laid
bare, tucking down the collar of his shirt and waistcoat, he kneeled
down on a black cushion at the block, and drew his cap over his eyes;
and in doing this, as well as in putting up his hair, his hands were
observed to shake. Either to support himself, or for a more convenient
posture of devotion, he happened to lay both his hands upon the block,
which the executioner observing, prayed his lordship to let them fall,
lest they should be mangled or break the blow. He was then told that the
neck of his waistcoat was in the way, upon which he rose, and with the
help of a friend, took it off; and the neck being made bare to the
shoulders, he kneeled down as before. In the mean time, when all things
were ready for the execution, and the black baize which hung over the
rails of the scaffold had, by direction of the colonel of the guard, or
the sheriffs, been turned up, that the people might see all the
circumstances of the execution, in about two minutes after he kneeled
down, his lordship dropped his handkerchief, and the executioner at once
severed his head from his body, except only a small part of the skin,
which was immediately divided by a gentle stroke. The head was received
in a piece of red baize, and, with the body, immediately put into the
coffin. The scaffold was then cleared from the blood, fresh sawdust
strewed, and that no appearance of a former execution might remain, the
executioner changed such of his clothes as appeared bloody.
While this was doing, the Lord Balmerino, after having solemnly
recommended himself to the mercy of the Almighty, conversed cheerfully
with his friends, refreshed himself twice with a bit of bread and a
glass of wine, and desired the company to drink to him, acquainting them
that "he had prepared a speech, which he should read on the scaffold,
and therefore should now say nothing of its contents." The under-sheriff
coming into his lordship's apartment to let him know the stage was
ready, he prevented him by immediately asking if the affair was over
with the Lord Kilmarnock; and being answered, "It is," he inquired how
the executioner had performed his office. Upon receiving the account, he
said it was well done; and then, addressing himself to the company,
said, "Gentlemen, I shall detain you no longer;" and with an easy
unaffected cheerfulness, saluted his friends, and hastened to the
scaffold, which he mounted with so unconstrained an air as astonished
the spectators. His lordship was dressed in his regimentals, (a blue
coat turned up with red, trimmed with brass buttons,) the same which he
wore at the battle of Culloden. No circumstance in his whole deportment
showed the least sign of fear or regret; and he frequently reproved his
friends for discovering either upon his account. He walked several times
round the scaffold, bowed to the people, went to his coffin, read the
inscription, and, with a nod, said, "It is right." He then examined the
block, which he called his "pillow of rest." His lordship, putting on
his spectacles, and taking a paper out of his pocket, read it with an
audible voice: but so far from its being filled with passionate
invectives, it mentioned his majesty as a prince of the greatest
magnanimity and mercy, at the same time that, through erroneous
political principles, it denied him a right to the allegiance of his
people. Having delivered this paper to the sheriff, he called for the
executioner, and on his being about to ask his lordship's pardon, he
said, "Friend, you need not ask me forgiveness, the execution of your
duty is commendable." Upon this his lordship gave him three guineas,
saying. "I never was rich; this is all the money I have now; I wish it
was more, and I am sorry I can add nothing to it but my coat and
waistcoat;" which he then took off, together with his neckcloth, and
threw them on his coffin, putting on a flannel waistcoat which had been
provided for the purpose; and then taking a plaid cap out of his pocket,
he put it on his head, saying he died a Scotchman. After kneeling down
at the block to adjust his posture, and show the executioner the signal
for the stroke, which was dropping his arms, he once more gave a
farewell look to his friends, and turning round on the crowd, said,
"Perhaps some may think my behaviour too bold; but remember, sir, (to a
gentleman who stood near him,) that I now declare it is the effect of a
confidence in God, and a good conscience; and I should dissemble if I
showed any signs of fear."
Having observed the axe in the executioner's hand as he passed him, he
now took it from him, felt the edge, and, returning it, clapped the
executioner on the shoulder to encourage him; he even tucked down the
collar of his shirt and waistcoat, and showed him where to strike,
desiring him to do it resolutely, "for in that," says his lordship,
"will consist your kindness."
He afterwards went to the side of the stage and called up the warder, of
whom he inquired which was his hearse, and ordered the man to drive
near, which was instantly done.
Immediately, without trembling or changing countenance, he again kneeled
down at the block, and having, with his arms stretched out, said, "O
Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies, and receive my soul," he
gave the signal by letting them fall. But his uncommon firmness and
intrepidity, with the unexpected suddenness of the signal, so surprised
the executioner, that though he struck the part directed, the blow was
not given with strength enough to wound him very deeply. It was observed
that he moved as if he made an effort to turn his head towards the
executioner, and the under jaw fell, and returned very quick, like anger
and gnashing the teeth; but this arose from the parts being convulsed,
and a second blow immediately succeeding the first, rendered him quite
insensible and a third finished the work.
His head was received in a piece of red baize, and, with his body, put
into a coffin, which, at his particular request, together with that of
the Earl of Kilmarnock, was placed on that of the late Marquis of
Tullibardine (who died during his imprisonment,) in St. Peter's church
in the Tower all three lords lying in one grave.
MATTHEW HENDERSON.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS MISTRESS, LADY DALRYMPLE.
This offender was the son of honest parents, and was born at North
Berwick, in Scotland, where he was educated in the liberal manner
customary in that country.
At the age of fourteen years he was taken into the employment of Sir
Hugh Dalrymple, a member of the British parliament, whom he accompanied
to London; and it was while in his service that he was guilty of the
murder of his mistress. It appears that at the time at which he
committed this offence he was in his twentieth year, and having
accidentally given offence to his lady, by treading on her toe, she
rebuked him in no very gentle manner. Offended by the insult which he
conceived he had received, he determined to obtain a deep revenge; and
seeking an opportunity, during the absence of his master from London, he
proceeded to put his intention into execution by murdering his mistress.
For this offence he was brought to trial at the Old Bailey, on the 22d
April 1746, when he pleaded guilty, and was sentenced to be hanged on
the following Monday, the 25th of the same month. On the night before
his execution he made a confession of his crime, from which the
following particulars are taken:--Having called the Almighty to witness
the truth of his assertion, he proceeded to enter into a history of his
early life, alleging that he had always been well treated by his master
and mistress, for whom he entertained the most sincere respect. On the
evening of the 25th March 1746, all the other servants having quitted
the house, he proceeded to bed in the apartment which was appropriated
to his use. He had pulled off his shoes, and had tied up his hair with
his garter, when suddenly the thought came into his head that he would
kill his mistress. He directly went into the kitchen in search of an
instrument to effect his object, and he took a small iron cleaver; but,
returning to his chamber, he sat during a period of twenty minutes,
considering whether he should commit the murder or not. His heart
relented when he remembered that his mistress had been so kind to him;
but then he thought that there was no one in the house who could hear
him, and he determined upon perpetrating the deed. Impelled by a feeling
which he could not control, he rushed up stairs as far as the first
landing-place, but there he tarried, and in his alarm returned to his
bed-room. Again he felt determined upon the course which he had
originally proposed, and again he had ascended the stairs on his way to
his mistress's room, but once more he felt irresolute. To use his own
expression, he had now determined not to commit the murder, but "the
devil was so busy within him," that, in an agony of emotion, he was
unable to prevail against an inward feeling, which drove him again
towards his lady's room. Once he retired,--but once again he
advanced,--and he had now reached the door, by which only he was
separated from the object upon which he was about to commit the foul
crime, of which in the sequel he was guilty. Had that door been locked
all would have been well,--but no, the latch turned easily in his hand,
and he stood within a yard of his victim. Still he could not kill her,
and in trepidation and alarm he crept back as far as the stair-head.
Again he felt the devil at work, and once more he was driven onwards to
his fate. He entered the room a second time, and could distinctly hear
the respirations of the unfortunate lady; he opened the curtains softly,
and fancied he could see the outline of her figure. Had he had a light,
he was convinced he could never have killed her. At length, however,
urged by an irresistible impulse, he raised the cleaver, and yet,
hesitating, he made as many as thirteen or fourteen motions in the air
before he could determine to strike her,--but then he let the murderous
instrument fall with redoubled force upon her head. The unhappy lady
attempted to escape, but without effect, for he followed up the
frightful wound which he had first inflicted with others still more
dreadful, until at last she sunk exhausted on the floor and died. The
only words which he heard her utter were--"Oh Lord! what is this?" And
when she died, she rattled very much in the throat. He was so alarmed at
this that he ran down stairs, and threw the chopper in the privy; and
when he had returned to his own room, the thought struck him that he
would rob the house. The idea had no sooner entered his head than he
resolved to put it into execution, and, striking a light, he returned to
his mistress's room. He took away some articles of jewellery from the
drawers; but while he was occupied in finding them, he fancied that he
heard the death-rattle still in his lady's throat, and he would have
given the world to have been able to recal what had passed.
When he had purloined all that he thought was of any value, he ran out
of the house; and as he passed through Holborn, he heard the watchman
cry "Past one o'clock," from which he knew that it was more than an hour
since he had first contemplated the murder. He concealed the articles
which he had stolen in the lodgings of a female of his acquaintance, and
returned home; but on his arrival at the door he found that he had shut
himself out. He waited until the maid-servant came at six o'clock in the
morning, and then, on their entering the house, appearances were
perceptible, which induced the girl to suppose that there had been some
strangers in the house. On her going up stairs she found that her
mistress had been murdered, and she directly conveyed information of the
circumstance to the police, when Henderson being at once suspected, he
was taken into custody, and confessed his guilt.
The sentence was carried out in its terms; and the body of the wretched
young man, after execution, was hung in chains in the Edgeware-road.
CHARLES RATCLIFFE, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
This gentleman was a party to the designs of the Jacobinical lords whose
execution we have detailed, and was taken by the Sea-horse frigate on
his passage to Scotland to join the rebel forces. He had been concerned
in the rebellion of 1715, and would then have been pardoned, but with
fifteen others he escaped out of Newgate, and went to France. He
afterwards lived in London, but was not molested; but subsequently again
joining the design of the Pretender, and being seized, he was tried
whether he was the same person who had been before convicted, and was
found to be the same. He therefore received sentence of death, and was
beheaded on Tower-hill, on the 8th of December 1746. This prisoner was
one of the brothers of the Earl of Derwentwater, who was executed in
1716, as before detailed; and they were the sons of Sir Francis
Ratcliffe, by Lady Mary Tudor, natural daughter of Charles the Second,
by Mrs. Mary Davis.
LORD LOVAT.
BEHEADED FOR HIGH TREASON.
This lord, who in 1715 had been a supporter of the House of Hanover, in
1745 changed sides, and became a friend of the party which he had before
opposed.
His career in life began in the year 1692, when he was appointed a
captain in Lord Tullibardine's regiment, but he resigned his commission
in order to prosecute his claim to be the Chief of the Frasers; in order
to effect which, he laid a scheme to get possession of the heiress of
Lovat, who was about to be married to a son of Lord Salton. He raised a
clan, who violently seized the young lord, and, erecting a gibbet,
showed it to him and his father, threatening their instant death unless
they relinquished the contract made for the heiress of Lovat. To this,
fearing for their lives, they consented; but still unable to get
possession of the young lady, he seized the dowager Lady Lovat in her
own house, caused a priest to marry them against her consent, cut her
stays open with his dirk, and, assisted by his ruffians, tore off her
clothes, forced her into bed, to which he followed her, and then called
his companions to witness the consummation of the outrageous marriage.
For this breach of the peace he was indicted, but fled from justice; but
he was, nevertheless, tried for a rape, and for treason, in opposing the
laws with an armed force; and sentence of outlawry was pronounced
against him. Having fled to France, he turned papist, ingratiated
himself with the Pretender, and was rewarded by him with a commission;
but he was apprehended on the remonstrance of the English ambassador in
Paris, and lodged in the Bastile, where having remained some years, he
procured his liberty by taking priest's orders, under colour of which he
became a Jesuit in the college of St. Omer's.
In the first rebellion of 1715 he returned to Scotland, and joining the
king's troops, assisted them in seizing Inverness from the rebels; for
which service he got the title of Lovat, was appointed to command, and
had other favours conferred upon him. In the rebellion of which we are
now treating, he turned sides, and joined the Pretender; a step
treacherous in the extreme. When taken, he was old, unwieldy, and almost
helpless; although in that condition he had been possessed of infinite
resources to assist the rebellion. He petitioned the Duke of Cumberland
for mercy; and, hoping to work upon his feelings, recapitulated his
former services, the favours that he had received from the duke's
grandfather, King George I., and dwelt much upon his access to court,
saying "he had carried him to whom he now sued for life in his arms,
and, when a baby, held him up, while his grandsire fondled upon him."
On the 9th March 1747, however, he was taken from the Tower to
Westminster Hall for trial, and the evidence adduced clearly proving his
guilt to be of no ordinary character, he was convicted. He was next day
brought up for judgment, and sentence of death was pronounced.
That this sentence was not ill deserved, appears from a speech of Lord
Belhaven, delivered in the last parliament, held in Edinburgh in 1706,
in which his lordship, speaking of this nobleman, then Captain Fraser,
on occasion of the Scots plot, commonly called Fraser's plot, says "That
he deserved, if practicable, to have been hanged five several times, in
five different places, and upon five different accounts at least; as
having been notoriously a traitor to the court of St. James's, a traitor
to the court of St. Germain's, a traitor to the court of Versailles, and
a traitor to his own country of Scotland; in being not only an avowed
and restless enemy to the peace and quiet of its established government
and constitution, both in church and state, but, likewise, a vile
Proteus-like apostate, and a seducer of others in point of religion, as
the tide or wind changed: and, moreover, that (abstracted from all
those, his multiplied acts of treason, abroad and at home) he deserved
to be hanged as a condemned criminal, outlaw, and fugitive, for the
barbarous, cruel, and most flagitious rape, he had, with the assistance
of some of his vile and abominable band of ruffians, violently committed
on the body of a right honourable and virtuous lady, the widow of the
late Lord Lovat, and sister of his Grace the late Duke of Athol. Nay, so
hardened was Captain Fraser, that he audaciously erected a gallows, and
threatened to hang thereon one of the said lady's brothers, and some
other gentlemen of quality, who accompanied him in going to rescue him
out of that criminal's cruel hand."
On the morning fixed for his execution, 9th April 1747, Lord Lovat, who
was now in his 80th year, and very large and unwieldy in his person,
awoke at about three o'clock, and was heard to pray with great devotion.
At five o'clock he arose, and asked for a glass of wine and water, and
at eight o'clock, he desired that his wig might be sent, that the barber
might have time to comb it out genteelly, and he then provided himself
with a purse to hold the money which he intended for the executioner. At
about half-past nine o'clock he ate heartily of minced veal, and ordered
that his friends might be provided with coffee and chocolate, and at
eleven o'clock the sheriff's came to demand his body. He then requested
his friends to retire while he said a short prayer; but he soon called
them back, and said that he was ready.
At the bottom of the first pair of stairs, General Williamson invited
him into his room to rest himself, which he did, and, on his entrance,
paid his respects to the company politely, and talked freely. He desired
of the general, in French, that he might take leave of his lady, and
thank her for her civilities; but the general told his lordship, in the
same language, that she was too much affected with his lordship's
misfortunes to bear the shock of seeing him, and therefore hoped his
lordship would excuse her. He then took his leave, and proceeded. At the
door he bowed to the spectators, and was conveyed from thence to the
outer gate in the governor's coach, where he was delivered to the
sheriffs, who conducted him in another coach to the house near the
scaffold, in which was a room lined with black cloth, and hung with
sconces, for his reception. His friends were at first denied entrance;
but, upon application made by his lordship to the sheriffs for their
admittance, it was granted. Soon after, his lordship, addressing himself
to the sheriffs, thanked them for the favour, and, taking a paper out of
his pocket, delivered it to one of them, saying he should make no
speech, and that they might give the word of command when they pleased.
A gentleman present beginning to read a prayer to his lordship while he
was sitting, he called one of the warders to help him up, that he might
kneel. He then prayed silently a short time, and afterwards sat again in
his chair. Being asked by one of the sheriffs if he would refresh
himself with a glass of wine, he declined it, because no warm water
could be had to mix with it, and took a little burnt brandy and bitters
in its stead. He requested that his clothes might be delivered to his
friends with his corpse, and said for that reason he should give the
executioner ten guineas. He also desired of the sheriffs that his head
might be received in a cloth, and put into the coffin, which the
sheriffs, after conferring with some gentlemen present, promised should
be done; as also that the holding up the head at the corners of the
scaffold should be dispensed with, as it had been of late years at the
execution of lords. When his lordship was going up the steps to the
scaffold, assisted by two warders, he looked round, and, seeing so great
a concourse of people, "God save us," says he, "why should there be such
a bustle about taking off an old grey head, that cannot get up three
steps without three bodies to support it?"
Turning about, and observing one of his friends much dejected, he
clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Cheer up thy heart, man! I am not
afraid; why should you be so?" As soon as he came upon the scaffold, he
asked for the executioner, and presented him with ten guineas in a
purse, and then, desiring to see the axe, he felt the edge, and said,
"he believed it would do." Soon after, he rose from the chair which was
placed for him, and looked at the inscription on his coffin, and on
sitting down again, he repeated from Horace,
"Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori;"
and afterwards from Ovid,
"Nam genus et proavos, et quæ non fecimus ipsi,
Vix ea nostra voco"--
He then desired all the people to stand off, except his two warders, who
supported his lordship while he said a prayer; after which, he called
his solicitor and agent in Scotland, Mr. W. Fraser, and, presenting his
gold-headed cane, said, "I deliver you this cane in token of my sense of
your faithful services, and of my committing to you all the power I have
upon earth," and then embraced him. He also called for Mr. James Fraser,
and said, "My dear James, I am going to heaven; but you must continue to
crawl a little longer in this evil world." And, taking leave of both, he
delivered his hat, wig, and clothes, to Mr. William Fraser, desiring him
to see that the executioner did not touch them. He ordered his cap to be
put on, and, unloosing his neckcloth and the collar of his shirt,
kneeled down at the block, and pulled the cloth which was to receive his
head close to him. But, being placed too near the block, the executioner
desired him to remove a little further back, which, with the warders'
assistance, was immediately done; and, his neck being properly placed,
he told the executioner he would say a short prayer, and then give the
signal by dropping his handkerchief. In this posture he remained about
half a minute, and then, throwing his handkerchief on the floor, the
executioner at one blow cut off his head, which was received in the
cloth, and, with his body, was put into the coffin, and carried in a
hearse back to the Tower, where it was interred near the bodies of the
other lords.
His lordship professed himself a papist, and, at his request, was
attended by Mr. Baker, attached to the chapel of the Sardinian
ambassador; and though he insisted much on the services he had done the
royal family in 1715, yet he declared, but a few days before his death,
that he had been concerned in all the schemes formed for restoring the
house of Stuart since he was fifteen years old.
This nobleman's intellectual powers seem to have been considerable, and
his learning extensive. He spoke Latin, French, and English, fluently,
and other modern languages intelligibly. He studied at Aberdeen, and
disputed his philosophy in Greek; and, though he was educated a
protestant, yet, after three years' study of divinity and controversy,
he turned papist. He maintained an appearance of that facetious
disposition for which he was remarkable, to the last; and seems to have
taken great pains to quit the stage, not only with decency, but with
that dignity which is thought to distinguish the good conscience and the
noble mind.
The following lines upon the execution of these noblemen are said to
have been repeated with great energy by Dr. Johnson, although there
appears to be no ground for supposing that they were the Doctor's own
composition. They first appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine:
"Pitied by gentle minds, Kilmarnock died;
The brave, Balmerino, were on thy side;
Ratcliffe, unhappy in his crimes of youth,
Steady in what he still mistook for truth,
Beheld his death so decently unmoved,
The soft lamented, and the brave approved.
But Lovat's end indifferently we view,
True to no king, to no religion true:
No fair forgets the ruin he has done;
No child laments the tyrant of his son;
No Tory pities, thinking what he was;
No Whig compassions, for he left the cause;
The brave regret not, for he was not brave,
The honest mourn not, knowing him a knave."
FRANCIS TOWNLEY, JAMES DAWSON, AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
These prisoners were parties to the same plot, and all of them held
ranks in the Pretender's army. Dawson had paid addresses to a young
lady, to whom he was to have been married immediately after his
enlargement, if the solicitations that were made for his pardon had been
attended with the desired effect.
The circumstance of his love, and the melancholy that was produced by
his death, are so admirably treated in the following ballad of
Shenstone, that Dawson's story will probably be remembered and regretted
when that of the rest of the rebels will be forgotten.
JEMMY DAWSON: A BALLAD.
Come listen to my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear,
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,
Nor will you blush to shed a tear.
And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,
Do thou a pensive ear incline;
For canst thou weep at every woe,
And pity every 'plaint, but mine?
Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
A lighter never trod the plain;
And well he loved one charming maid,
And dearly was he loved again.
One tender maid, she loved him dear,
Of gentle blood the damsel came;
And faultless was her beauteous form,
And spotless was her virgin fame.
But curse on parties' hateful strife,
That led the faithful youth astray!
The day the rebel clans appear'd--
(Oh! had he never seen that day!)
Their colours and their sash he wore,
And in their fatal dress was found;
And now he must that death endure
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.
How pale was then his true-love's cheek
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear!
For never yet did Alpine snows
So pale nor yet so chill, appear.
"Yet, might sweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes,
O George! without a prayer for thee
My orisons should never close.
"The gracious prince that gives him life
Would crown a never-dying flame;
And every tender babe I bore
Should learn to lisp the giver's name.
"But though, dear youth, thou shouldst be dragg'd
To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend
To share thy bitter fate with thee."
O, then her mourning-coach was call'd;
The sledge moved slowly on before;--
Though borne in a triumphal car,
She had not loved her favourite more.
She follow'd him, prepared to view
The terrible behests of law;
And the last scene of Jemmy's woes,
With calm and steadfast eyes she saw.
Distorted was that blooming face
Which she had fondly loved so long,
And stifled was that tuneful breath
Which in her praise had sweetly sung;
And sever'd was that beauteous neck
Round which her arms had fondly closed;
And mangled was that beauteous breast
On which her love-sick head reposed;--
And ravish'd was that constant heart
She did to every heart prefer;
For, though it could his king forget,
'Twas true and loyal still to her.
Amidst those unrelenting flames
She bore this constant heart to see;
But, when 'twas moulder'd into dust,
"Yet, yet," she cried, "I'll follow thee!
"My death, my death, can only show
The pure and lasting love I bore;
Accept, O Heaven! of woes like ours,
And let us--let us weep no more."
The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retired;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And, sighing forth his name, expired.
Though justice ever must prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due;
For seldom shall we hear a tale
So sad, so tender, and so true.
These offenders were hanged on Kennington Common. They had not hung
above five minutes when Townley was cut down, being yet alive: and his
body being placed on the block, the executioner chopped off his head
with a cleaver. His heart and bowels were then taken out, and thrown
into the fire; and the other parties being separately treated in the
same manner, the executioner cried out, "God save King George!"
The bodies were quartered, and delivered to the keepers of the New Jail,
who buried them: the heads of some of the parties were sent to Carlisle
and Manchester, where they were exposed; but those of Townley and
another were fixed on Temple Bar, and after remaining some time, fell
down.
It would be useless to attempt to enumerate the other persons whose
crimes and misfortunes at this time consigned them to the gibbet; but
some account of the escape of the Pretender may not be uninteresting. It
would appear that the battle of Culloden having decided the fate of his
cause, where the Pretender had his horse shot under him by one of the
king's troopers as he was endeavouring to rally his soldiers, he retired
to the house of a factor of Lord Lovat, at about ten miles from
Inverness, where he met with that lord and supped with him. After supper
he started on his journey to Fort Augustus, and next day went on to
Invergarry. A boy, whom he found there caught him a salmon and he dined,
and afterwards waited for some of his troops, who had promised to meet
him there. Being disappointed, however, in his object, he proceeded to
Lockharciage, and he arrived there on the 18th of April, at about two in
the morning, and slept, but at five he set out on foot, and travelled
through the Glen of Morar, where he arrived at four the next morning. He
reached Arrashag in twelve hours after, and was there joined by Captain
O'Neil on the 27th, who informed him that his cause was hopeless, and
recommended him, therefore, to sail at once for France. One Donald
M'Leod was engaged to hire a ship, and on the 28th the Chevalier went on
board an eight-oared boat, in company with Sullivan and O'Neil, ordering
the people who belonged to the boat to make the best haste they could to
Stornoway, where it was proposed they should take ship. The night
proving very tempestuous, they all begged of him to go back, which he
would not do; but to keep up the spirits of the people, he sang them a
Highland song. The weather growing worse and worse, about seven in the
morning of the 29th, they were driven on shore on a point of land called
Rushness, in the island of Benbecula, where, when they got on shore, the
Pretender helped to make a fire to warm the crew, who were almost
starved to death with cold. On the 30th, at six in the evening, they set
sail again for Stornoway, but meeting with another storm, were obliged
to put into the island of Scalpa, in the Harris, where they all went on
shore to a farmer's house, passing for merchants that were shipwrecked
in their voyage to the Orkneys: the Pretender and Sullivan going by the
name of Sinclair, the latter passing for the father, and the former for
his son. They thought proper to send from thence to Stornoway, with
instructions to freight a ship for the Orkneys; and on the 3d of May
they received a message that a ship was ready. On the 4th they set out
for that place, where they arrived on the 5th about noon, but meeting
with their messenger, Donald M'Leod, they found that he had got into
company, and told a friend of his for whom he had hired the ship; upon
which there were two hundred people in arms at Stornoway, upon a report
that the Pretender was landed with five hundred men, and was coming to
burn the town; so that they were obliged to lie all night upon the
moor, with no other refreshment than biscuit and brandy. On the 6th they
resolved to go in the eight-oared boat to the Orkneys; but the crew
refused to venture, so that they were obliged to steer south along the
coast-side, where they met with two English ships; and this compelled
them to put into a desert island, where they remained till the 10th,
without any provision but some salt fish they found upon the place.
About ten in the morning of that day they embarked for the Harris, and
at break of day on the 11th they were chased by an English vessel, but
made their escape among the rocks. About four in the afternoon they
arrived on the island of Benbecula, where they remained till the 14th,
and then they set out for the mountain of Currada, in South Uist, where
they staid till the militia of the Isle of Skye came to the island of
Irasky. They now sailed for the island of Uia, where they remained three
nights, till, having intelligence that the militia were coming towards
Benbecula, they immediately got into their boat, and sailed for
Lochbusdale. Being met, however, by some ships of war, they were obliged
to return to Lochagnart, and at night sailed for Lochbusdale; upon
arriving at which place they staid eight days on a rock, making a tent
of the sail of the boat. They found themselves here in a most dreadful
situation; for, having intelligence that Captain Scott had landed at
Kilbride, they were obliged to separate, and the Pretender and O'Neil
went to the mountains, where they remained all night, and soon after
were informed that General Campbell was at Bernary; so that now they had
forces very near on both sides of them, and were absolutely at a loss
which way to move. In their road they met with a young lady, one Miss
M'Donald, to whom Captain O'Neil proposed assisting the Pretender to
make his escape, which at first she refused; but, upon his offering to
put on women's clothes, she consented, and desired them to go to the
mountain of Currada till she sent for them. They accordingly there staid
two days; but hearing nothing from the young lady, the Pretender
concluded she would not keep her word, and therefore resolved to send
Captain O'Neil to General Campbell, to let him know he was willing to
surrender to him; but about five o'clock in the evening a message came
from the young lady, desiring them to meet her at Rushness. Being afraid
to pass by the Ford, because of the militia, they luckily found a boat,
which carried them to the other side of Uia, where they remained part of
the next day, afraid of being seen by the country people. In the evening
they set out for Rushness, and arrived there at twelve at night; but not
finding the young lady, and being alarmed by a boat full of militia,
they were obliged to retire two miles back, where the Pretender remained
on a moor till O'Neil went to the young lady, and prevailed upon her to
come to the place appointed at night-fall of the next day. About an hour
after, they had an account of General Campbell's arrival at Benbecula,
which obliged them to move to another part of the island, where, as the
day broke, they discovered four sail close on the shore, making directly
up to the place where they were; so that there was nothing left for them
but to throw themselves among the heath. When the wherries were gone,
they resolved to go to Clanronald's house; but when they were within a
mile of it, they heard General Campbell was there, which forced them to,
retreat again. The young Pretender having at length, with the assistance
of Captain O'Neil, found Miss M'Donald in a cottage near the place
appointed, it was there determined that he should put on women's clothes
and pass for her waiting-maid. This being done, he took leave of
Sullivan and O'Neil with great regret, who departed to shift for
themselves, leaving him and his new mistress in the cottage, where they
continued some days, during which she cured him of the itch. Upon
intelligence that General Campbell was gone further into the country,
they removed to her cousin's, and spent the night in preparing for their
departure to the Isle of Skye: and they set out the next morning for
that place, with only one man-servant, named M'Lean, and two rowers.
During their voyage they were pursued by a small vessel; but a thick fog
rising, they arrived safe at midnight in that island, and landed at the
foot of a rock, where the lady and her maid waited while her man M'Lean
went to see if Sir Alexander M'Donald was at home. M'Lean found his way
thither, but lost it in returning; and his mistress and her maid, after
in vain expecting him the whole night, were obliged in the morning to
leave the rock, and go in the boat up the creek to some distance, to
avoid the militia which guarded the coast. They went on shore again
about ten o'clock, and, attended by the rowers, inquired the way to Sir
Alexander's. When they had gone about two miles, they met M'Lean; and he
told his lady that Sir Alexander was with the Duke of Cumberland, but
his lady was at home, and would do them all the service she could. They
then immediately discharged their boat, and went directly to the house,
where they remained two days, being always in her ladyship's chamber,
except at night, to prevent a discovery. But a party of the M'Leods,
having intelligence that some strangers were arrived at Sir Alexander's,
and knowing his lady to be well affected to the Pretender, came thither,
and demanding to see the new-comers, were introduced to Miss's chamber,
where she sat with her new maid. The latter, hearing the militia were at
the door, had the presence of mind to get up and open it, which
occasioned his being the less noticed; and after they had narrowly
searched the chests, they withdrew. The inquiry, however, alarmed the
young lady, and the next day she sent her apparent maid to a steward of
Sir Alexander's: but hearing that his being in the island was known, he
removed to Macdonald's, at Kingsborough, ten miles distant, where he
remained but one day; for on receiving intelligence that it was rumoured
that he was disguised in a woman's habit, Macdonald furnished him with a
suit of his own clothes, and he went in a boat to M'Leod's at Raza. No
prospect of escaping to France, however, presented itself there, and he
returned to the Isle of Skye, being thirty miles, with no attendant but
a ferryman, M'Leod assuring him that the elder Laird of Mackinnon would
there render him all the service in his power. On his reaching
M'Kinnon's, the old man instantly knew him, and advised him to go to
Lochaber; and he accordingly proceeded thither in a vessel procured for
that purpose. M'Donald, at the head of one hundred resolute Highlanders,
then appeared to assist him, and after roving about with them from place
to place, he at length removed to Badenoch. He was there very much
harassed by the King's troops, and losing many of his men in the
skirmishes which daily took place, they were at length obliged to
disperse; and the Pretender, with Lochiel of Barrisdale and some others,
skulked about in Moidart. Here they received information that two French
privateers were at anchor in Lochnanaugh, in one of which, _L'Heureux_,
this unfortunate prince eventually embarked, with twenty-three
gentlemen, and one hundred and seven soldiers, and soon after arrived
safely in France.
WILLIAM YORK,
AGED TEN YEARS, CONVICTED OF MURDERING SUSAN MAHEW, AGED FIVE YEARS.
This unhappy child was but ten years of age when he committed the
dreadful crime of which he was convicted. He was a pauper in the
poorhouse belonging to the parish of Eye, in Suffolk, and was committed,
on the coroner's inquest, to Ipswich jail, for the murder of Susan
Mahew, another child, of five years of age, who had been his bedfellow.
The following is his confession, taken by a justice of the peace, and
which was, in part, proved on the trial, with many corroborating
circumstances of his guilt.
He said that a trifling quarrel happening between them on the 13th of
May 1748, about ten in the morning, he struck her with his open hand,
and made her cry: that she going out of the house to the dunghill,
opposite to the door, he followed her, with a hook in his hand, with an
intent to kill her; but before he came up to her, he set down the hook,
and went into the house for a knife. He then came out again, took hold
of the girl's left hand, and cut her wrist all round to the bone, and
then threw her down, and cut her to the bone just above the elbow of the
same arm. That, after this, he set his foot upon her stomach, and cut
her right arm round about, and to the bone, both on the wrist and above
the elbow. That he still thought she would not die, and therefore took
the hook and cut her left thigh to the bone. His next care was to
conceal the murder for which purpose he filled a pail with water at a
ditch, and washing the blood off the child's body, buried it in the
dunghill, together with the blood that was spilled upon the child's
clothes, and then went and got his breakfast. When he was examined, he
showed very little concern, and appeared easy and cheerful. All he
alleged was, that the child fouled the bed in which they lay together;
that she was sulky, and that he did not like her.
The boy was found guilty, and sentenced to death; but he was respited
from time to time on account of his tender years, and at length
pardoned.
BENJAMIN TAPNER, JOHN COBBY, JOHN HAMMOND, RICHARD MILLS, RICHARD MILLS
THE YOUNGER, AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
We do not recollect ever to have heard of a case exhibiting greater
brutality on the part of the murderers towards their victim than this.
The offenders were all smugglers, and the unfortunate objects of their
crime were a custom-house officer, and a shoemaker, named respectively
William Galley and Daniel Chater. It would appear that a daring and very
extensive robbery having been committed at the custom-house at Poole,
Galley and Chater were sent to Stanstead in Sussex, to give some
information to Major Battine, a magistrate, in reference to the
circumstance. They did not, however, return to their homes, and on
inquiry, it turned out that they had been brutally murdered, the body of
Galley being traced, by means of bloodhounds, to be buried, while that
of Chater was discovered at a distance of six miles, in a well in
Harris' Wood, near Leigh, in Lady Holt's Park, covered up with a
quantity of stones, wooden railings, and earth.
At a special commission held at Chichester, on the 16th of January 1749,
the prisoners Benjamin Tapner, John Cobby, John Hammond, William Carter,
Richard Mills the elder, and Richard Mills the younger, were indicted
for the murder of Daniel Chater; the three first as principals, and the
others as accessories before the fact; and William Jackson and William
Carter were indicted for the murder of William Galley.
From the evidence adduced, the circumstances of this most horrid murder
were proved, and it appeared that the two deceased persons having passed
Havant on their road to Stanstead, went to the New Inn at Leigh, where
they met one Austin, and his brother and brother-in-law, of whom they
asked the road, and they conducted them to Rowland's Castle, where, they
said, they might obtain better information. They went into the White
Hart, and Mrs. Payne, the landlady, suspecting the object of their
mission, sent for the prisoners Jackson and Carter, and they were soon
after joined by some others of the gang. After they had been all sitting
together, Carter called Chater out, and demanded to know where Diamond,
one of those suspected of the robbery, was? Chater replied that he was
in custody, and that he was going against his will to give evidence
against him. Galley, following them into the yard, was knocked down by
Carter, on his calling Chater away, and they then returned in-doors. The
smugglers now pretended to be sorry for what had occurred, and desired
Galley to drink some rum, and they persisted in plying him and Chater
with liquor until they were both intoxicated. They were then persuaded
to lie down and sleep, and a letter to Major Battine, of which they were
the bearers, was taken from them, read, and destroyed.
One John Royce, a smuggler, now came in, and Jackson and Carter told him
the contents of the letter, and said that they had got the old rogue,
the shoemaker of Fording-bridge, who was going to inform against John
Diamond, the shepherd, then in custody at Chichester. Here William
Steele proposed to take them both to a well about two hundred yards from
the house, and to murder and throw them in; but this was rejected, and
after several propositions had been made as to the mode in which they
should be disposed of, the scene of cruelty was commenced by Jackson,
who, putting on his spurs, jumped upon the bed where they lay, and
spurred their foreheads, and then whipped them; so that they both got up
bleeding. The smugglers then took them out of the house, and Mills swore
he would shoot any one who followed or said anything of what had
occurred.
Meanwhile, the rest put Galley and Chater on one horse, tied their legs
under the horse's belly, and then tied the legs of both together. They
now set forward, with the exception of Royce, who had no horse; and they
had not gone above two hundred yards, before Jackson called out "Whip
'em, cut 'em, slash 'em, d--n 'em!" upon which, all began to whip except
Steele, who led the horse, the roads being very bad. They whipped them
for half a mile, till they came to Woodash, where they fell off, with
their heads under the horse's belly; and their legs, which were tied,
appeared over the horse's back. Their tormentors soon set them upright
again, and continued whipping them over the head, face, shoulders, &c.,
till they came to Dean, upwards of half a mile farther; and here they
both fell again as before, with their heads under the horse's belly,
which were struck at every step by the horse's hoofs.
[Illustration]
Upon placing them again in the saddle, the villains found them so weak
that they could not sit; upon which they separated them, and put Galley
before Steele, and Chater before little Sam; and then whipped Galley so
severely, that, the lashes coming upon Steele, at his desire they
desisted. They then went to Harris'-well, and threatened to throw Galley
in; but when he desired that they would put an end to his misery at
once, "No," said Jackson, "if that's the case, we have something more to
say to you;" and they thereupon put him on the horse again, and whipped
him over the Downs until he was so weak that he fell off. They next laid
him across the horse, and little Sam, getting up behind him, subjected
him to such cruelty as made him groan with the most excruciating
torments, and he fell off again. Being again put up astride, Richards
got up behind him; but the poor man soon cried out, "I fall, I fall,"
and Richards pushed him with force, saying, "Fall, and be d--d!" The
unhappy man then turned over and expired; and they threw the body over
the horse, and carried it off with them to the house of one Scardefield,
who kept the Red Lion at Rake. The landlord remarking the condition of
Chater, and Galley's body, the fellows told him that they had engaged
with some officers, had lost their tea, and that some of them were
wounded, if not dead. This was sufficient, and Jackson and Carter
carried Chater down to the house of the elder Mills, where they chained
him up in a turf-house. Their companions, in the mean time, drank gin
and brandy at Scardefield's, and it being now nearly dark, they borrowed
spades, and a candle and lantern, and making him assist them in digging
a hole, they buried the body of the murdered officer. They then
separated; but on the Thursday they met again with some more of their
associates, including the prisoners Richard Mills, and his two sons
Richard and John, Thomas Stringer, Cobby, Tapner, and Hammond, for the
purpose of deliberating what should be done with their prisoner. It was
soon unanimously resolved that he must be destroyed, and it was
determined that they should take him to Harris'-well and throw him in,
as it was considered that that death would be most likely to cause him
the greatest pain.
During this time the wretched man was in a state of the utmost horror
and misery, being visited occasionally by all his tormentors, who abused
him, and beat him violently. At last, when this determination had been
arrived at, they all went, and Tapner pulling out a clasp-knife, ordered
him on his knees, swearing that he would be his butcher; but being
dissuaded from this, as being opposed to their plan to prolong the
miseries of their prisoner, he contented himself with slashing the knife
across his eyes, almost cutting them out, and completely severing the
gristle of his nose. They then placed him upon a horse, and all set out
together for Harris'-well, except Mills and his sons, they having no
horses ready, and saying, in excuse, "that there were enough without
them to murder one man." All the way Tapner whipped him till the blood
came; and then swore that if he blooded the saddle, he would torture him
the more. When they were come within one hundred yards of the well,
Jackson and Carter stopped, saying to Tapner, Cobby, Stringer, Steele,
and Hammond, "Go on and do your duty on Chater, as we have ours upon
Galley." It was in the dead of the night that they brought their victim
to the well, which was nearly thirty feet deep, but dry, and paled close
round; and Tapner having fastened a noose round his neck, they bade him
get over the pales. He was going through a broken place; but though he
was covered with blood and fainting with the anguish of his wounds, they
forced him to climb up, having the rope about his neck. They then tied
one end of the cord to the pales and pushed him over the brink; but the
rope being short, he hung no farther within it than his thighs, and
leaning against the edge, he hung above a quarter of an hour and was not
strangled. They then untied him, and threw him head foremost into the
well. They tarried some time, and hearing him groan, they determined to
go to one William Comleah's, a gardener, to borrow a rope and ladder,
saying they wanted to relieve one of their companions who had fallen
into Harris'-well. He said they might take them; but they could not
manage the ladder in their confusion, it being a long one. They then
returned to the well; and still hearing him groan, and fearful that the
sound might lead to a discovery, the place being near the road, they
threw upon him some of the rails and gate-posts fixed about the well, as
well as some great stones; and then finding him silent, they left him.
Their next consultation was how to dispose of their horses; and they
killed Galley's, which was grey, and taking his hide off, cut it into
small pieces, and hid them so as to prevent any discovery; but a bay
horse that Chater had ridden on got from them.
This being the evidence produced, the jury, after being out of court
about a quarter of an hour, brought in a verdict of guilty against all
the prisoners: whereupon the judge pronounced sentence on the convicts
in a most pathetic address, representing the enormity of their crime,
and exhorting them to make immediate preparation for the awful fate that
awaited them; adding, "Christian charity obliges me to tell you that
your time in this world will be very short."
The heinousness of the crime of which these men had been convicted
rendering it necessary that their punishment should be exemplary, the
judge ordered that they should be executed on the following day; and the
sentence was accordingly carried into execution against all but Jackson,
who died in prison on the evening that he was condemned. They were
attended by two ministers; and all, except Mills and his son (who took
no notice of each other, and thought themselves not guilty because they
were not present at the finishing of the inhuman murder), showed great
marks of penitence. Tapner and Carter gave good advice to the
spectators, and desired diligence might be used to apprehend Richards,
whom they charged as the cause of their being brought to this wretched
end. Young Mills smiled several times at the executioner, who was a
discharged marine, and having ropes too short for some of them, was
puzzled to fit them. Old Mills being forced to stand tiptoe to reach the
halter, desired that he might not be hanged by inches. The two Mills
were so rejoiced at being told that they were not to be hanged in chains
after execution, that death seemed to excite in them no terror; while
Jackson was so struck with horror at being measured for his irons, that
he soon expired.
They were hanged at Chichester on the 18th of January 1749, amidst such
a concourse of spectators as is seldom seen on the occasion of a public
execution.
Carter was hung in chains near Rake, in Sussex; Tapner, on Rook's Hill,
near Chichester; and Cobby and Hammond, at Cesley Isle, on the beach
where they sometimes landed their smuggled goods, and where they could
be seen at a great distance east and west.
SAMUEL COUCHMAN AND JOHN MORGAN, LIEUTENANTS OF MARINES; THOMAS KNIGHT,
CARPENTER, AND OTHERS.
SHOT FOR MUTINY.
The _Chesterfield_ man-of-war, under the command of Captain O'Brian
Dudley, was stationed off Cape-coast Castle, on the coast of Africa,
when a dangerous mutiny broke out among the crew, of whom the
above-named officers were the leaders. They were charged on their trial
with "exciting and encouraging mutiny, and running away with his
Majesty's ship _Chesterfield_, on the 10th day of October 1748, from the
coast of Africa, leaving their captain, two lieutenants, with other
officers, and some seamen, on shore."
It appeared from the evidence adduced before the court-martial, by which
the prisoners were tried, and which was presided over by Sir Edward
Hawke, that on the 15th October 1748, Captain Dudley, being on shore at
Cape-coast Castle, sent off his barge to Lieutenant Couchman, ordering
him to send the cutter with the boatswain of the ship, to see the tents
struck, and to bring everything belonging to the ship on board that
night. Couchman, however, directly ordered the barge to be hoisted in,
and the boatswain to turn all hands on the quarter-deck, and then coming
from his cabin with a drawn sword, said, "Here I am! God d--n me, I will
stand by you while I have a drop of blood in my body!" He was
accompanied by John Morgan, the second lieutenant of marines, Thomas
Knight the carpenter, his mate John Place (a principal actor), and about
thirty seamen with cutlasses. They then gave three huzzas, and threw
their hats overboard; damning old hats, and saying that they would soon
get new. Couchman now sent for the boatswain, to know if he would stand
by him, and go with him; but he replied "No," and said,
"For God's sake, sir, be ruled by reason, and consider what you are
about." Couchman threatened to put him in irons if he did not join with
him; but the boatswain told him he never would be in such piratical
designs, and he was immediately ordered into custody, and two sentinels
put over him. Couchman soon after sent for Gilham, the mate of the ship;
but he also refusing to join him, was put into custody with five or six
others. They were confined, however, only five or six hours; for, in the
middle of the night after their confinement, Couchman sent for them into
the great cabin, desired them to sit and drink punch, and then dismissed
them. The next day the boatswain was invited to dinner by the new
commander, who began to rail against Captain Dudley, and proposed to him
to sign a paper. He refused indignantly, and was immediately dismissed.
When he quitted the great cabin, he went to the gunner, who informed him
that he had twenty pistols still at his disposal, and it was determined
that an effort should be made that night to recover the ship from the
mutineers. When evening drew on, the boatswain proceeded to sound the
ship's company, and he soon found about thirty of the seamen, besides
the mates, gunner's mates, and cockswain of the barge, ready to aid him.
The boatswain took the command on himself, and the first step which he
took was to get up all the irons or bilboes on the forecastle; he then
sent for the twenty pistols, which were all loaded; he next ordered
three men upon the grand magazine, and two to that abaft; and the
remainder, who had no pistols, to stay by the bilboes, and secure as
many prisoners as he should send. This disposition being made, he went
directly down on the deck, where he divided his small company into two
parties; and, one going down the main, and the other the fore hatchway,
they soon secured eleven or twelve of the ringleaders, and sent them up
to the forecastle without the least noise. The two parties then joined,
and went directly to the great cabin, where they secured Couchman and
Morgan, with the carpenter, whom they immediately confined in different
parts of the vessel. The ship being thus secured, the captain again
boarded her and took the command of her; and on her return to England
the mutineers were brought to trial.
The court-martial having found them guilty of the crimes imputed to
them, they were shot in the month of June 1749.
The boatswain (Roger Winket) was afterwards rewarded with three hundred
pounds a year, as master-attendant of Woolwich-dockyard.
JOHN MILLS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this felon becomes remarkable from the fact of the criminal
being the son of Richard Mills the elder, whose ignominious fate we have
just recorded. It appears that he was engaged in the robbery of the
Custom-house, but escaped; and soon after his father, brother, and their
accomplices were hanged, he thought of going to Bristol, with a view of
embarking for France; and having hinted his intentions to some others,
they resolved to accompany him. Stopping at a house on the road, they
met with one Richard Hawkins, whom they asked to go with them; but the
poor fellow hesitating, they put him on horseback behind Mills, and
carried him to the Dog and Partridge, on Slendon Common, which was kept
by John Reynolds. They had not been long in the house when complaint was
made that two bags of tea had been stolen, and Hawkins was charged with
the robbery. He steadily denied any knowledge of the affair; but they
obliged him to pull off his clothes; and, having stripped themselves,
they began to whip him with the most unrelenting barbarity; and Curtis,
one of the gang, said he did know of the robbery, and if he would not
confess, he would whip him till he did; for he had whipped many a rogue,
and washed his hands in his blood.
The villains continued whipping the poor wretch till their breath was
almost exhausted, when at length the unfortunate man mentioned something
of his father and brother; on which Mills and Curtis said they would go
and fetch them; but Hawkins expired soon after they had left the house.
On their way back they met Winter, one of their companions, who informed
them of this fact, when they dismissed the men whom they had compelled
to accompany them, saying that they should be sent for when they were
wanted. Their next anxiety was as to the mode in which they should
dispose of the body, and it was proposed to throw it into a well in an
adjacent park; but this being objected to, they carried it twelve miles,
and having tied stones to it in order to sink it, they threw it into a
pond in Parham Park, belonging to Sir Cecil Bishop; and in this place it
lay more than two months before it was discovered.
Mills was afterwards taken into custody on the information of Pring, an
outlawed smuggler, and being tried, was convicted.
The country being at that time filled with smugglers, a rescue was
feared; wherefore he was conducted to the place of execution by a guard
of soldiers. When there, he prayed with a clergyman, confessed that he
had led a bad life, acknowledged the murder of Hawkins, desired that all
young people would take warning by his untimely end, and humbly implored
the forgiveness of God. He was executed on Slendon Common on the 12th of
August 1749, and afterwards hung in chains on the same spot.
AMY HUTCHINSON.
BURNT FOR THE MURDER OF HER HUSBAND.
This malefactor was born of indigent parents, in the Isle of Ely, and
having received a poor education, at the age of sixteen she attracted
the attention of a young man, whose love she returned with equal
affection. Her father, being apprised of the connexion, strictly charged
his daughter to decline it: but there was no arguing against love; the
intimacy continued till it became criminal. The young fellow having soon
grown tired of her, went off to London, and she determined to revenge
herself upon him for his infidelity, by marrying another suitor, named
John Hutchinson, who had previously been disagreeable to her. The
marriage accordingly took place; but her first admirer happening to
return from London just as the newly-wedded pair were coming out of
church, the bride was greatly affected at the recollection of former
scenes, and the irrevocable ceremony which had now passed. Unable to
love the man she had married, she doted to distraction on him she had
lost, and, only a few days after her marriage, admitted him to his
former intimacy with her. Hutchinson becoming jealous of his wife, a
quarrel ensued, in consequence of which he beat her with great severity;
but this producing no alteration in her conduct, he had recourse to
drinking, with a view to avoid the pain of reflection on his situation.
In the interim his wife and the young fellow continued their guilty
intercourse uninterrupted; but, considering the life of her husband as a
bar to their happiness, it was resolved to remove him by poison. For
this purpose the wife purchased a quantity of arsenic; and Mr.
Hutchinson being afflicted with an ague, and wishing for something warm
to drink, she put some arsenic in ale, of which he drank very
plentifully; and then she left him, saying she would go and buy
something for his dinner. Meeting her lover, she acquainted him with
what had passed; on which he advised her to buy more poison, fearing the
first might not be sufficient to operate; but its effects were fatal,
and Hutchinson died about dinner-time on the same day. The deceased was
buried on the following Sunday, and the next day the former lover
renewed his visits; which occasioning the neighbours to talk very freely
of the affair, the young widow was taken into custody on suspicion of
having committed the murder.
The body being exhumed, it was found that death had been caused by
poison, and the prisoner was convicted and sentenced to death.
She was strangled and burned at Ely, on the 7th November 1750,
confessing the crime of which she had been found guilty.
JOHN CARR.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
This offender was born of respectable parents, who gave him a good
education, in the North of Ireland. Having gone to Dublin at the age of
sixteen years, he soon afterwards entered into business as a
wine-merchant; but being uncontrolled, he fell into bad habits and
company, and was compelled to give up his trade. An associate inviting
him to join him at Kilkenny, he proceeded thither by coach, and seeing a
lady in the conveyance, the elegance of her appearance and manners
impressed him with an idea that she was of rank. He determined, if
possible, to profit by the opportunity afforded him. He handed her into
the inn, and a proposal being made that the company should sup together,
it was agreed to on all hands; and while the supper was preparing, Carr
applied himself to the coachman to learn the history of the young lady;
but all the information he could obtain was, that he had taken her up at
Dublin, and that she was going to the Spa at Mallow. He was determined,
however, to become better acquainted with her, and prevailed on the
company to repose themselves the next day at Kilkenny, and take a view
of the Duke of Ormond's seat, and the curiosities of the town. This
proposal being acceded to, the evening was spent in the utmost harmony
and good-humour; and the fair stranger even then conceived an idea of
making a conquest of Mr. Carr, from whose appearance she was induced to
suppose that he was a man of distinction. It was now "diamond cut
diamond," and in the morning the fair incognita dressed herself to great
advantage, not forgetting the ornament of jewels, which she wore in
abundance; so that when she entered the room, Carr was astonished at her
appearance. She found the influence she had over him, and resolved to
afford him an early opportunity of speaking his sentiments; and while
the company were walking in the gallery of the Duke of Ormond's palace,
an occasion presented itself, which was not lost by either party. The
lady at first affected displeasure at so explicit a declaration; but,
soon assuming a more affable deportment, she told him she was an
Englishwoman of rank; that his person was not disagreeable to her; and
that, if he was a man of fortune and the consent of her relations could
be obtained, she should not be averse to listening to his addresses. She
further said that she was going to spend part of the summer at Mallow,
where his company would be agreeable; and he followed her to that place,
contrary to the advice of his friend, who had formed a very unfavourable
opinion of the lady's character.
It is needless to say that the company of so refined and elegant a
person was not to be kept without some expenses, which were not of a
very moderate character, and the difficulties in which our hero had
already placed himself were in nowise diminished by his new connexion.
He remained with her, however, until the end of the season induced them
to return to Dublin; and then a trip to England was proposed,
preparatory to the final steps being taken to complete the nuptial
arrangements. The gallantry and wits of the gentleman were sorely tested
to procure the requisite funds for the trip; but he at length succeeded
in obtaining such a sum as he and the lady deemed sufficient. The
passage only remained to be secured, and the too credulous sharper was
employed in obtaining it; but in his absence the lady shipped all the
effects on board a vessel bound for Amsterdam, and, having dressed
herself in man's apparel, she embarked and sailed, leaving Carr to
regret his ill-judged credulity.
Thus reduced to want, he went to London, and having enlisted as a
foot-soldier, he was discharged after several years' service. He
subsequently entered as a marine, but soon afterwards came to London
again, and opened a shop in Hog-lane, St. Giles's. He now married a girl
who he thought had money; but soon discovering her poverty, he abandoned
her, and removed to Short's Gardens, where he entered into partnership
with a cork-cutter; but having obtained the promise of support from his
partner's customers, he set up on his own account, and was tolerably
successful, though his passion for gambling prevented his retaining any
part of the produce of his business. His new companions at the
gaming-table, having an eye to their own profit, offered to procure him
a wife of fortune, though they knew he had a wife living, and actually
contrived to introduce him to a young lady of property, with whom a
marriage would probably have taken place, but that one of them, struck
with remorse of conscience, developed the affair to her father, and
frustrated the whole scheme. Being now again thrown upon his own
resources, he engaged himself as porter to a merchant; but while in this
condition, his master having entrusted him with a check, for sixty
pounds, he procured it to be cashed, and having spent the money in the
lowest debauchery, he again entered as a marine. There being something
in his deportment superior to the vulgar, he was advanced to the rank of
sergeant, in which he behaved so well that his officers treated him with
considerable favour.
The vessel in which he sailed was of considerable power, and taking a
merchant-ship richly laden, and soon afterwards several smaller vessels,
the prize-money amounted to a considerable sum. This gave Carr an idea
that very great advantages might be obtained by privateering, and having
procured a discharge, he entered on board a privateer, and was made
master-at-arms. In a few days the privateer took two French ships, one
of which they carried to Bristol, and the other into the harbour of
Poole; and refitting their ship, they sailed again, and in two days took
a French privateer, and gave chase to three others, which they found to
have been English vessels belonging to Falmouth, which had been captured
by a French privateer. These they retook, and carried them into
Falmouth; in their passage to which place they made prize of a valuable
French ship, the produce of which contributed to enrich the crew. On
their next trip, they saw a ship in full chase of them, on which they
prepared for a vigorous defence; and an action soon after taking place,
many hands were lost by the French, who at length attempted to sheer
off, but were taken after a chase of some leagues.
The commander of the English privateer, being desperately wounded in the
engagement, died in a few days; on which Carr courted his widow, and a
marriage would have taken place, but that she was seized with a violent
fever, which deprived her of life--but not before she had bequeathed him
all she was possessed of. Having disposed of her effects, he repaired to
London, where he commenced smuggler: but his ill-gotten goods being
seized on by the officers of the revenue, he took to the still more
dangerous practice of forging seamen's wills, and gained money thus for
some time; but, being apprehended, he was brought to trial at the Old
Bailey convicted, and was sentenced to die.
He was of the Romish persuasion, and died with decent resignation to his
fate.
Carr was hanged at Tyburn on the 16th of November 1750.
NORMAN ROSS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
About the time at which this man met his most deserved punishment, the
public journals teemed with accounts of the impudence and crimes of the
parti-coloured tribe of servants denominated footmen. To such a daring
pitch had their impudence arrived, that they created a riot at the
theatre in Drury Lane, even in the presence of the heir-apparent to the
throne. One evening when the Prince and Princess of Wales, the father
and mother of King George III., attended the performance, these
miscreants commenced a dreadful uproar. It was then the custom to admit
servants in livery into the upper gallery _gratis_, in compliment to
their employers, on whom they were supposed to be in attendance; and not
content with peaceably witnessing the performance, they frequently
interrupted those who had paid for admission, and, assuming the
prerogative of critics, hissed or applauded with the most offensive
clamour. In consequence of these violent proceedings, the manager shut
the door against them, unless they each paid their shilling. Upon an
occasion when that part of the royal family already mentioned were
present, they mustered in a gang, to the number of three hundred; broke
open the doors of the theatre, fought their way to the very door of the
stage, and, in their progress, wounded twenty-five peaceable people.
Colonel De Veil, then an active magistrate for Westminster, happened to
be present, and in vain attempted to read a proclamation against such an
outrage; but, though they obstructed him in his duty, he caused the
ringleaders to be secured, and the next day committed three of them to
Newgate.
At the ensuing sessions they were convicted of the riot, and sentenced
to imprisonment.
In the mean time, the choler of these upstarts was raised to such a
pitch, that they sent the following threat to the manager:--
"To Mr. Fleetwood, in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, Master of the Theatre,
Drury Lane.
"SIR,--We are willing to admonish you, before we attempt our design: and
provided you use us civil, and admit us into our gallery, which is our
property, according to formalities; and if you think proper to come to a
composition this way, you'll hear no further; and if not, our intention
is to combine in a body, _incognito_, and reduce the playhouse to the
ground; valuing no detection--we are indemnified!"
The manager carried this letter to the Lord Chamberlain, who ordered a
detachment of fifty soldiers to do duty there each night, and thus
deterred the saucy knaves from carrying their threats into execution.
At the Edinburgh theatre it was also a custom to admit men wearing the
badge of servitude into the gallery _gratis_; and when Garrick's
inimitable farce, "High Life Below Stairs," wherein the waste and
impudence of domestic servants of rich men is completely exposed, was
performed there, a most violent clamour broke out in the gallery, so as
entirely to interrupt the performance, and put the other part of the
audience in fear of the consequences. The hardy Scotchmen, however, laid
hold of the rioters, and kicked every footman, who alone were concerned,
out of the house, where, without paying, they never more entered.
Having thus referred to an evil which existed in 1751, and which even to
this moment continues to exist to a considerable extent, namely the over
bearing insolence of the fellows who usually fill the situations of
domestic servants in the families of the rich, it is time to proceed to
the history of the subject of this sketch. Ross was born of decent
parents in Inverness, and received an education by which he would have
been fitted to fill a situation in a merchant's counting-house. The
difficulty in obtaining such employment, however, induced him to enter
the service of a lady, who had always exhibited great kindness towards
his family; and he soon afterwards accompanied her son to the Continent
in the capacity of _valet-de-chambre_. He continued in this situation
during about five years, when he returned to Scotland, and was employed
by an attorney in Edinburgh; but having contracted an intimacy among
other servants, from their instruction he acquired all the fashionable
habits of drinking, swearing, and gaming, and was dismissed on account
of his impudence, and the irregularities of his conduct.
He was subsequently engaged by a Mrs. Hume, a widow lady of good
fortune, whose residence, during the summer, was at Ayton, a village
about four miles from Berwick-upon-Tweed. The extravagance of our hero,
and an unfortunate intercourse which he had with a fellow-servant, soon
compelled him to look for some other means of procuring money, besides
that which was honestly afforded him by his mistress; and having
exhausted the patience of his friends by borrowing from them repeatedly,
he formed the resolution of robbing his employer. It would appear that
Mrs. Hume slept in a room on the first floor, and that the keys of her
bureau were usually placed under her head for safety. Sunday night was
the time fixed upon for the commission of the robbery, and, waiting in
his bed-room without undressing himself, till he judged the family to be
asleep, he descended, and leaving his shoes in the passage, proceeded to
his lady's bed-chamber. Upon his endeavouring to get possession of the
keys, the lady was disturbed, and being dreadfully alarmed, called for
assistance; but the rest of the family lying at a distant part of the
house, her screams were not heard. Ross immediately seized a clasp-knife
that lay on the table, and cut his mistress's throat in a most dreadful
manner. This horrid act was no sooner perpetrated than, without waiting
to put on his shoes, or to secure either money or other effects, he
leaped out of the window, and after travelling several miles, concealed
himself in a field of corn.
In the morning the gardener discovered a livery hat, which the murderer
had dropped in descending from the window; and, suspecting that
something extraordinary had happened, he alarmed his fellow-servants.
The disturbance in the house brought the two daughters of Mrs. Hume down
stairs; but no words can express the horror and consternation of the
young ladies upon beholding their parent weltering in her blood, and the
fatal instrument of death lying on the floor.
Ross being absent, and his shoes and hat being found, it was concluded
that he must have committed the barbarous deed; and the butler therefore
mounted a horse, and alarmed the country, lest the murderous villain
should escape. The butler was soon joined by great numbers of horsemen;
and towards the conclusion of the day, when both men and horses were
nearly exhausted through excessive fatigue, the murderer was discovered
in a field of standing corn. He was immediately secured, and being
brought to trial, he had the effrontery to declare that he was admitted
to share his mistress's bed, and that his custom was always to leave his
shoes at the parlour door. That on the night of the murder he proceeded
as usual to her room, but on entering it his horror was aroused at
discovering her to be murdered. He leaped out at the window to search
for the perpetrators of the deed, and dropping his hat he thought it
better not to return until night. Having been found guilty, he was
sentenced to have his right hand chopped off, then to be hanged till
dead, the body to be hung in chains, and the right hand to be affixed at
the top of the gibbet, with the knife made use of in the commission of
the murder.
Upon receiving sentence of death he began seriously to reflect on his
miserable situation, and the next day he requested the attendance of Mr.
James Craig, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, to whom he confessed his
guilt, declaring that there was no foundation for his reflections
against the chastity of the deceased. Six weeks elapsed between the time
of his trial and that of his execution, during which he showed every
sign of the most sincere penitence, and refused to accompany two
prisoners who broke out of jail, saying he had no desire to recover his
liberty, but that on the contrary he would cheerfully submit to the
utmost severity of punishment, that he might make atonement for his
wickedness. The day appointed for putting the sentence of the law into
force being arrived, Ross walked to the place of execution, holding Mr.
Craig by the arm. Having addressed a pathetic speech to the populace,
and prayed some time with great fervency of devotion, the rope was put
round his neck, and he laid his right hand upon the block, when it was
struck off by the executioner at two blows. He was immediately
afterwards run up to the gallows, when, feeling the rope drawing tight,
by a convulsive motion of the arm he struck his bloody wrist against his
cheek, which gave it a ghastly appearance. The sentence was subsequently
fully carried into effect.
The execution took place on the 8th January 1751.
THOMAS COLLEY.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This offender was a victim to his own feelings of superstition. At the
time of his crime and execution the belief in witchcraft was almost
universal, and Colley was hanged for the murder of a poor old woman
named Osborne, whose qualities as a witch he tested by ducking her in a
pond until she was dead, thereby indisputably proving to the
satisfaction of all, and to the credit of the deceased woman, how
unjustifiable were the suspicions which had been entertained of her
character.
The evidence given against the prisoner was to the following effect:--On
the 18th April, 1751, a man named Nichols went to William Dell, the
crier at Hemel Hempstead, in Hertfordshire, and delivered to him a paper
to the following effect, which was to be cried:
"This is to give notice, that on Monday next, a man and woman are to be
publicly ducked at Tring, in this county, for their wicked crimes."
This notice was given at Winslow and Leighton-Buzzard, as well as at
Hemel-Hempstead, on the respective market-days, and was heard by Mr.
Barton, overseer of the parish of Tring, who being informed that the
persons intended to be ducked were John Osborne, and Ruth his wife, and
having no doubt of the good character of both the parties, sent them to
the workhouse, as a protection from the rage of the mob.
On the day appointed for the practice of the infernal ceremony, an
immense number of people, supposed to be not fewer than five thousand,
assembled near the workhouse at Tring, vowing revenge against Osborne
and his wife, as a wizard and a witch, and demanding that they should be
delivered up to their fury. In support of their demands they pulled down
a wall belonging to the workhouse, and broke the windows and
window-frames. On the preceding evening the master of the workhouse,
suspecting some violence from what he heard of the disposition of the
people, had sent Osborne and his wife to the vestry-room belonging to
the church, as a place the most likely to secure them from insult. The
mob would not give credit to the master of the workhouse that the
parties were removed, but, rushing into the house, searched it through,
examining the closets, boxes, trunks, and even the salt-box, in quest of
them. There being a hole in the ceiling, which had been left by the
plasterers, Colley, who was one of the most active of the gang,
exclaimed, "Let us search the ceiling;" and this being done, but of
course without success, they swore that they would pull down the house,
and set fire to Tring, if the parties were not produced. The master of
the workhouse, apprehensive that they would carry their threats into
execution, and unmindful of the safety of the unfortunate wretches whom
it was his duty to protect, at length gave up their place of
concealment; and the whole mob, with Colley at their head, forthwith
marched off to the church and brought them off in triumph. Their persons
secured, they were carried to a pond, called Marlston Mere, where they
were stripped and tied up separately in cloths. A rope was then bound
round the body of the woman, under her arm-pits, and two men dragged her
into the pond, and through it several times; Colley going into the pond,
and, with a stick, turning her from side to side. Having ducked her
repeatedly in this manner, they placed her by the side of the pond, and
dragged the old man in, and ducked him: then he was put by, and the
woman ducked again as before, Colley making the same use of his stick.
With this cruelty the husband was treated twice over, and the wife three
times; during the last of which the cloth in which she was wrapped came
off, and she appeared quite naked.
Not satisfied with this barbarity, Colley pushed his stick against her
breast, and the poor woman attempted to lay hold of it; but her strength
being now exhausted, she expired on the spot. Colley then went round the
pond, collecting money of the populace for the _sport_ he had shown them
in ducking the old witch, as he called her. The mob now departed to
their several habitations; and the body being taken out of the pond, was
examined by Mr. Foster, a surgeon; and the coroner's inquest being
summoned on the occasion, Mr Foster deposed that, "on examining the body
of the deceased, he found no wound, either internal or external, except
a little place that had the skin off on one of her breasts; and it was
his opinion that she was suffocated with water and mud."
Hereupon Colley was taken into custody, and when his trial came on, Mr.
Foster deposed to the same effect as above mentioned; and there being a
variety of other strong proofs of the prisoner's guilt, he was
convicted, and received sentence of death. His defence was that he had
endeavoured to protect the old people from violence, instead of
attempting to injure them.
After conviction he seemed to behold his guilt in its true light of
enormity. He became, as far as could be judged, sincerely penitent for
his sins, and made good use of the short time he had to live in the
solemn preparation for eternity.
The day before his execution he was removed from the jail of Hertford,
under the escort of one hundred men of the Oxford Blues, commanded by
seven officers; and being lodged in the jail of St. Albans, was put into
a chaise at five o'clock the next morning, with the hangman, and reached
the place of execution about eleven, where his wife and daughter came to
take leave of him. The minister of Tring assisted him in his last
moments, and he died exhibiting all the marks of unfeigned penitence.
He was executed on the 24th of August 1751, and his body afterwards hung
in chains at a place called Gubblecut, near which the offence was
committed.
It is not a little remarkable that, at so recent a period, so many
people as composed this mob should be found so benighted in intellect,
and utterly uninformed, as to be guilty of so miserable and so glaring a
piece of absurdity and wickedness as that which was proved in the
evidence against the prisoner. In former ages, it is true, not only the
people, but even the authorities of the land, believed in witchcraft and
sorcery; but it is indeed extraordinary that in the eighteenth century a
scene such as that described could have been permitted to occur at a
village within thirty miles of the metropolis.
The following copy of an indictment, furnished us by a friend who took
it from the American Court record, must prove a matter of curiosity to
the reader at the present enlightened era:--
"Essex, ss. (a town in the colony of Massachusetts Bay, in New England.)
"The jurors of our sovereign lord and lady, the king and queen (King
William and Queen Mary), present, that George Burroughs, late of
Falmouth, in the province of Massachusetts Bay, clerk (a Presbyterian
minister of the Gospel), the 9th day of May, and divers other days and
times, as well before as after, certain detestable arts, called
witchcraft and sorceries, wickedly and feloniously hath used, practised
and exercised at and in the town of Salem, in the county aforesaid, upon
and against one Mary Walcot, single woman, by which said wicked arts the
said Mary, on the day aforesaid, and divers other days and times, as
well before as after, was, and is tortured, afflicted, pined, consumed,
wasted, and tormented against the peace," &c.
A witness, by name Ann Putnam, deposed as follows:--On the 8th of May,
1692, I saw the apparition of George Burroughs, who grievously tormented
me, and urged me to write in his book, which I refused. He then told me
that his two first wives would appear to me presently and tell me a
great many lies, but I must not believe them. Then immediately appeared
to me the forms of two women in winding-sheets, and napkins about their
heads, at which I was greatly affrighted. They turned their faces
towards Mr. Burroughs, and looked red and angry, and told him that he
had been very cruel to them, and that their blood called for vengeance
against him; and they also told him that they should be clothed with
white robes in heaven when he should be cast down into hell, and he
immediately vanished away. And as soon as he was gone, the women turned
their faces towards me, and looked as pale as a white wall; and told me
they were Mr. Burroughs's two wives, and that he had murdered them. And
one told me she was his first wife, and he stabbed her under the left
breast, and put a piece of sealing-wax in the wound; and she pulled
aside the winding-sheet and showed me the place: she also told me that
she was in the house where Mr. Daris, the minister of Danvers, then
lived when it was done. And the other told me that Mr. Burroughs and a
wife that he hath now, killed her in the vessel as she was coming to see
her friends from the eastward, because they would have one another. And
they both charged me to tell these things to the magistrates before Mr.
Burroughs's face; and if he did not own them, they did not know but they
should appear this morning. This morning, also, appeared to me another
woman in a winding-sheet, and told me that she was Goodman Fuller's
first wife, and Mr. Burroughs killed her, because there was a difference
between her husband and him.
Upon the above, and some other such evidence, was this unfortunate man
condemned and executed.
The days are now, happily, past, when such monstrous absurdities are
heard of.
FREDERICK CAULFIELD.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The following is a remarkable instance, if it be true, of a dream
occasioning the discovery of a murder:
Adam Rogers (a creditable man, who kept a public-house at Portlaw, a
small village nine or ten miles from Waterford, in Ireland) dreamed one
night that he saw two men at a particular green spot on an adjacent
mountain; one of them a sickly-looking man, the other remarkably strong
and large. He then fancied that he saw the little man murder the other,
and awoke in great agitation. The circumstances of the dream were so
distinct and forcible that he continued much affected by them; and on
the next morning he was extremely startled at seeing two strangers enter
his house, about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, who resembled precisely
the two men that he fancied he had seen.
After the strangers had taken some refreshment, and were about to
depart, in order to prosecute their journey, Rogers earnestly
endeavoured to dissuade the little man from quitting his house and going
on with his fellow-traveller; and he assured him that if he would remain
with him that day, he would himself accompany him to Carrick next
morning, that being the town to which they were proceeding. He was
unwilling and ashamed to tell the cause of his being so solicitous to
separate him from his companion; but as he observed that Hickey, which
was the name of the little man, seemed to be quiet and gentle in his
deportment, and had money about him, and that the other had a ferocious
bad countenance, he dreaded that something fatal would happen, and
wished, at all events, to keep them asunder. The humane precautions
which he took, however, proved ineffectual; for Caulfield (such was the
other's name) prevailed upon Hickey to continue with him on their way to
Carrick, declaring that, as they had long travelled together they should
not part, but should remain together until he should see Hickey safely
arrive at the habitation of his friends. They accordingly set out
together; and in about an hour after they left Portlaw, in a lonely part
of the mountain, just near the place observed by Rogers in his dream,
Caulfield took the opportunity of murdering his companion. It appeared
afterwards, from his own account of the horrid transaction, that as they
were getting over the ditch, he struck Hickey on the back part of his
head with a stone; and when he fell down into the trench, in consequence
of the blow, Caulfield gave him several stabs with a knife, and cut his
throat so deeply, that the head was almost severed from the body. He
then rifled Hickey's pockets of all the money in them, took part of his
clothes, and everything else of value about him, and afterwards
proceeded on his way to Carrick. He had not been long gone when the
body, still warm, was discovered by some labourers who were returning to
their work from dinner. The report of the murder soon reached Portlaw;
and Rogers and his wife went to the place, and instantly knew the body
of him whom they had in vain endeavoured to dissuade from going on with
his treacherous companion. They at once declared their suspicions that
the murder was perpetrated by the fellow traveller of the deceased; and
an immediate search was made, and Caulfield was apprehended at Waterford
on the second day after. He was brought to trial at the ensuing assizes,
and convicted of the fact.
After sentence, the prisoner confessed that he had been guilty of the
murder, and stated that he had accompanied Hickey home from the West
Indies; and that observing that he had money in his possession, he had
long contemplated the deed which he afterwards effected, but was unable
to meet with a good opportunity until their arrival at the spot alluded
to.
He was executed at Waterford in the year 1751.
WILLIAM PARSONS, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR RETURNING FROM TRANSPORTATION.
The unhappy subject of this narrative was the eldest son of Sir William
Parsons, Bart., of the county of Nottingham, and was born in London in
the year 1717. He was placed under the care of a pious and learned
divine at Pepper-harrow, in Surrey, where he received the first
rudiments of education. In a little more than three years he was removed
to Eton College, where it was intended that he should qualify himself
for one of the universities; but his misconduct prevented his friends
from carrying out their intentions in this respect; for having been
detected in various acts of petty pilfering, he was dismissed the
school, and sent home to his father. His disposition was now found to be
of so unpromising a character, that it was thought advisable to send
him to sea, and an appointment was procured for him as midshipman on
board a vessel of war lying at Spithead, which was immediately about to
proceed to Jamaica. Our hero soon obtained the necessary outfit, and
joined his ship; but some accident detaining her beyond the time when it
was expected she would sail, he applied for leave of absence, and went
on shore; but having no intention to return, he directed his course
towards a small town about ten miles from Portsmouth, called Bishop's
Waltham, where, by representations of his respectability, he soon
ingratiated himself into the favour of the principal inhabitants.
His figure being pleasing, and his manner of address easy and polite, he
found but little difficulty in recommending himself to the ladies, and
he became greatly enamoured of a beautiful and accomplished young lady,
the daughter of a physician of considerable practice, and prevailed upon
her to promise that she would yield to him her hand in marriage.
News of the intended alliance coming to the knowledge of his father and
of his uncle, the latter directly hastened to Waltham, to prevent a
union, which would have produced consequences of the worst character to
the contracting parties, and having apprised the friends of the young
lady with the condition and situation of the intended bridegroom, their
consent was withdrawn, and our hero was with some difficulty induced to
rejoin his ship. Restless, however, in his new employment, he had
scarcely reached Jamaica, when he determined that he would desert and
return to England; and the sailing of the Sheerness man-of-war for that
place afforded him an opportunity of carrying his design into execution,
of which he lost no time in availing himself. A new effort to obtain the
hand of his former love was as unsuccessful as that which he had first
made; and his uncle having ascertained the fact of his presence in
England, induced him at once to go back to the residence of his father,
with promises of future amendment. For a time his determination to alter
his course of life was obeyed; but soon again launching forth into
habits of irregularity, he was despatched as midshipman on board the
_Romney_, for the coast of Newfoundland. On his revisiting England,
after an absence of some years, he was mortified to learn that the
Duchess of Northumberland, to whom he was distantly related, had revoked
a will in his favour, which she had made, and had bequeathed to his
sister the fortune which, he knew, had been intended for him; and now,
finding himself spurned by his friends, he was soon reduced to a
condition of absolute necessity. Through the friendly intervention of a
Mr. Bailey, however, he procured an engagement at James Fort, on the
river Gambia, but here, as in all other situations unfortunate, he
contrived to engage himself in a quarrel, in consequence of which he was
compelled to return to Europe--a step, however, which he was alone
enabled to take by setting at defiance the commands of the Governor
Aufleur, that he should not quit the colony--and take his passage under
an assumed name on board a homeward-bound trader.
Arrived in London, he found no friend to whom he could apply for
assistance or relief, but at length discovering the residence of his
father, he went to him and implored some aid, even if he should not give
him any further countenance. Five shillings, and advice to enter a horse
regiment as a private, were all that he could obtain, however, and
rendered wretched by his miserable condition, the grave appeared to be
the only resource to which he could look for consolation. But a thought
suggested itself in time to prevent his rashly taking away his life,
that he should represent himself as his brother, who had recently come
into a fortune; and under the pretext that he was entitled to the
legacy, he committed frauds upon various tradesmen to a considerable
amount. His impudence and his ingenuity were now required to be exerted
in order to relieve him from the difficulty in which he was involved in
consequence of this proceeding, but his good fortune in throwing him in
the way of a young lady of good fortune, to whom he was married, placed
in his power the means of retrieving his lost character and his degraded
position. The marriage was solemnised on the 10th February 1740; and the
intercession of his friends, to whom he was now with difficulty again
reconciled, procured for him an ensigncy in the 34th regiment of foot
from the right honourable Arthur Onslow.
He appeared at this time to be desirous of re-appearing in that position
in society to which his birth entitled him; but having hired a house in
Poland-street, his extravagant mode of living again, in the course of a
few years, reduced him to a condition of great distress. He was
compelled to sell his commission in order to recruit his shattered
finances; and then, in order to meet new demands, he was guilty of
various forgeries, upon which he procured money to a very large amount.
For two years he pursued new plans of iniquity with considerable
success, but then being apprehended in the act of putting off a forged
draft, he was committed to Maidstone jail, and having been convicted at
the ensuing assizes, was sentenced to be transported for seven years. In
the month of September, 1749, he was put on board the Thames transport,
bound for Maryland, and in the following November he was landed at
Annapolis, in that place. He was now guilty of new offences, even more
criminal than those which he had before committed, and having first
ridden off with a horse belonging to the person to whom he was assigned
as a servant, and committed several robberies, he shaped his course to
Potomac, from whence he immediately sailed for England.
That refuge for the destitute of all classes at this period, "the road,"
was now the only resource left to our hero, and for a time he pursued
his new occupation with infinite determination and proportionate
success; but at length having attempted to rob Mr. Fuller, the gentleman
by whom he had before been prosecuted, he was recognised by him, and
being vigorously attacked, was at length compelled to surrender, and was
secured and committed to Newgate.
It was necessary to prove no new offence against him at his trial, but
all that was required was to identify him as a transported felon, who
had returned to England before the termination of the period for which
he had been sentenced to be banished; and this being done, he was
declared to have forfeited his life to the laws of his country. His
distressed father and wife used all their interest to obtain for him a
pardon, but in vain: he was an old offender, and judged by no means a
fit object for mercy.
While Parsons remained in Newgate, his behaviour was such that it could
not be determined whether he entertained a proper idea of his dreadful
situation. There is, indeed, but too much reason to fear that the hopes
of a reprieve (in which he deceived himself even to the last moments of
his life) induced him to neglect the necessary preparation for
eternity.
His taking leave of his wife afforded a scene extremely affecting: he
recommended to her parental protection his only child, and regretted
that his misconduct had put it in the power of a censorious world to
reflect upon both the mother and son.
At the place of execution he joined in the devotional exercises with a
fervency of zeal that proved him to be convinced of the necessity of
obtaining the pardon of his Creator.
William Parsons, Esq. suffered at Tyburn, on the 11th of Feb. 1751.
WILLIAM CHANDLER.
TRANSPORTED FOR PERJURY.
The scheme laid by this man for the purpose of plunder has scarcely ever
been equalled in art and consummate hypocrisy. It is to be observed that
in the case of every robbery committed, the hundred where it happens, or
the county at large, is responsible for the amount of the loss which the
injured person in such cases may sustain. In Chandler's attempt at fraud
founded upon this law, he implicated three innocent men, by whom he
pretended to have been robbed, and who, had his tale ultimately received
credit, might have lost their lives. Happily his plot was frustrated,
and the real offender was brought to justice.
William Chandler was the only child of Mr. Thomas Chandler, of
Woodborough, near Devizes, a gentleman farmer of moderate means. At an
early age the youth was articled to Mr. Banks, who was clerk of the
Goldsmiths' Company; but before two years had elapsed, in consequence of
frequent disputes which took place, he was transferred to Mr. Hill, a
respectable attorney in Clifford's Inn. His clerkship being nearly
expired, the necessity of providing himself with the means of commencing
practice on his own account suggested itself to his mind, and he
therefore laid a plan to procure the possession of as much money as he
could, and then going a journey into the country, upon some plausible
pretence, to trump up a story of being robbed, and sue the hundred for
the amount. Upon representations to his father, that he had a good match
in view, the old man gave him an estate of the value of 400_l._; and
then producing the deeds to his master, together with 500_l._ which he
had obtained by other means, but which he represented that he had
received from a rich uncle in Suffolk, he procured from him the advance
of 500_l._ more, in order, as he alleged, that he might take a mortgage
upon some property at Enford, within a few miles of his father's house.
Mr. Hill demanded some security for his money, and his clerk immediately
proposed to give him a mortgage upon his own estate. In order to favour
the appearance of the probability of his proceedings, he engaged with a
Mrs. Poor, who lived at Enford, in a transaction, having the mortgage of
some land which she owned for its object, and the money having been duly
advanced by his employer, he fixed the 25th March, 1748, to meet Mrs.
Poor to hand over the money and receive the necessary papers. Early on
the 24th, having turned most of his cash into small bills, to the amount
of 900_l._, he found, when he came to put these in canvas bags under his
garters, where he proposed to carry them for safety, that they made too
great a bundle, and therefore he took several of the bills, with some
cash, amounting to 440_l._, and exchanged them at the bank for two
notes, one of 400_l._ and the other of 40_l._; the first of which, in
his way home, he changed in his master's name, at Sir Richard Hoare's,
for one note of 200_l._, and two of 100_l._ each. On his reaching the
office, he told his master that the bank clerks were a little out of
humour at the trouble he had already given them, and that he had changed
his small notes with a stranger in the bank-hall for the notes which he
in reality had received at Sir Richard Hoare's. Mr. Hill, at Chandler's
request, having then written down the numbers and dates of the several
bills, and having seen them safely put up, Chandler took leave of him,
and about twelve o'clock set out.
About four o'clock the same afternoon he reached Hare-hatch, distant
thirty miles from London, where he stopped to refresh; and about five,
just as he had left his inn, he was, as he said, unfortunately met by
three bargemen on foot, who, after they had robbed him of his watch and
money, took him to a pit close by the road, and there stripped him of
all his bank-notes, bound his hands and feet, and left him, threatening
to return and shoot him if he made the least noise. In this woful
condition, he said, he lay three hours, though the pit was so near the
road that not a single horse could pass without his hearing. When night
came, however, he jumped, bound as he was, near half a mile, all up
hill, till, luckily for his purpose, he met one Avery, a simple
shepherd, who cut the cords, and of whom the first question Chandler
asked was, where a constable or tything-man lived. Avery conducted him
to Richard Kelly's, the constable's just by, and with him Mr. Chandler
left the notices required by the statutes, with the description of the
men who robbed him, so exactly, that a person present remembered three
such men to have passed by his house about the very time the robbery was
said to have been committed; and the mayor of Reading, who was
accidentally on the road, had a similar recollection of the bargemen,
whom he had met near Maidenhead thicket, between four and five the same
day. Chandler then returned to the inn where he had refreshed, and,
after telling his deplorable tale, and acquainting his landlord with his
intention of suing the hundred, he ordered a good supper and a bowl of
punch, and sat down with as little concern as if nothing had happened.
Next day he returned to London, acquainted his master with the pretended
robbery, and requested his assistance. Mr. Hill gave him the memorandum
he had of the numbers, dates, and sums of the notes, and sent him to the
bank to stop payment; but, instead of that, he went to Mr. Tufley, a
silversmith in Cannon Street, bought a silver tankard, and in payment,
changed one of the notes for a hundred pounds which he had received the
day before at Sir Richard Hoare's; and on his return to his master, told
him the bank did no business that day, on account of the hurry the city
was in with regard to a fire in Cornhill, which had happened the night
before. He therefore went again the following morning, and when he came
back, being asked by Mr. Hill for the paper on which he had taken down
the numbers, &c., he said he had left it with the clerks of the bank,
who were to stop the notes, but that he had taken an exact copy of it.
This, however, was false; for he had reserved Mr. Hill's copy, and left
another at the bank, in which he had so craftily altered the numbers and
dates of the three notes he received at Sir Richard Hoare's, amounting
to four hundred pounds, as to prevent their being stopped and Mr. Hill
remembering the difference.
On the 26th he inserted a list of his notes, being fifteen in all, with
their dates and numbers, in the daily papers, offering a reward of fifty
pounds for the recovery of the whole, or in proportion for any part; but
on the afternoon of the same day he withdrew his advertisement in all
the daily papers, and took his own written copy away at each place. On
the 29th of March, he put the notice of the robbery and the description
of the robbers in the London Gazette, as the law directs, except that he
did not particularize the notes, as he had done in other papers.
On the 12th of May following, he made the proper information before a
justice of the peace; but though Mr. Hill, his master, was with him, and
had undertaken to manage the cause for him, yet he made the same
omission in his information as in his advertisement in the London
Gazette.
All things being prepared, on the 18th of July 1748, Chandler's cause
came on at Abingdon, before a special jury; and, after a hearing of
twelve hours, the jury retired, and then gave the prosecutor a verdict
for nine hundred and seventy pounds, subject, however, to a case
reserved for the opinion of the Court of Common Pleas, concerning the
sufficiency of the description of the bank-notes in the London Gazette.
In the mean time, Chandler, fearing that by what came out upon the trial
he should soon be suspected, and that he might be arrested, obtained a
protection from Lord Willoughby de Broke, and gave out that he was
removed into Suffolk to reside, as he had before pretended, with his
rich uncle; but in reality he retired to Colchester, where his
brother-in-law, Humphry Smart, had taken an inn, with whom he entered
into copartnership, and never came publicly to London afterwards. He
was, however, obliged to correspond with his master, on account of the
point of law which was soon to be argued; and, therefore, to obtain his
letters without discovering his place of abode, he ordered them to be
directed "To Mr. Thomas Chandler, at Easton, in Suffolk, to be left for
him at the Crown at Audley, near Colchester."
Mr. Hill having written several letters to Mr. Chandler, pressing him to
come to town (as the Term drew near), and he evading it by trifling
excuses, the former began to suspect him, even before the point of law
was determined.
Just before this period, twelve of the notes of which Mr. Chandler
pretended to have been robbed, were all brought to the bank together,
having been bought, October 31, 1748, at Amsterdam, of one John Smith,
by Barnard Solomon, a broker there, and by him transmitted to his son,
Nathan Solomon, a broker in London. Upon further inquiry, it appeared
that John Smith, who sold the notes, staid but a few days in Holland;
that he was seen in company with Mr. Casson, a Holland trader, and came
over in the packet with him. Mr. Casson was then found, and his
description of John Smith answered to the person of Chandler, who was,
in consequence, pressed by letter to come to town and face Casson, to
remove all suspicion; but he refused.
In the interim, the point of law was argued before the judges of the
Common Pleas, when their determination was to the following
effect:--"That, as Chandler had not inserted the numbers of his notes in
the Gazette, nor sworn to them when he made oath before the justice, the
verdict must be set aside and the plaintiff nonsuited, without the
advantage of a new trial."
But now the scene began to open apace; for about this time the very
paper which Chandler left when he stopped payment of the notes at the
bank, was found; and upon its being seen by Mr. Hill, he at once saw
that he had been deceived, and proceeded to take the necessary steps to
secure his apprehension. The whole circumstances attending the case were
soon traced, upon a minute inspection of the bank books, as contrasted
with those of the banking-house of Messrs. Hoare and Co.; and about
midsummer 1749, Mr. Hill and others set out for Colchester, with a view
of securing the person of the culprit. After a fruitless journey,
however, of about a hundred and fifty miles in search of the fugitive,
they returned to the very inn at Colchester which was kept by the object
of their search, and then departed for London, without gaining any
intelligence. Chandler having seen his pursuers, thought it prudent to
decamp, and proceeded to Coventry, where he took a small public-house;
but being desirous of making some reparation to his late master, he
transmitted to him a hundred and fifty pounds by letter from Nottingham.
By the post-mark of his letter, he was eventually traced to Coventry,
and an indictment for perjury, in respect of the information on oath,
which he gave to the magistrates of the robbery, having been found
against him, he was taken into custody on a judge's warrant, and removed
to Abingdon, where, on the 22d July, 1750, he was arraigned on the
indictment preferred against him. The witnesses being all in attendance,
the prisoner traversed his trial until the next assizes, in pursuance of
a right which he possessed; but then the facts already detailed having
been proved in evidence, he was found guilty, and on the 16th July 1751,
he was sentenced to be transported for seven years, having first
undergone three months' imprisonment in the County Jail.
MARY BLANDY.
EXECUTED FOR PARRICIDE.
The unhappy subject of this memoir was a young lady of most respectable
family, and of superior education, but who, in spite of the exertions of
her parents in her early life to implant in her breast sentiments of
piety and virtue, was guilty of a crime of the most heinous
description--the wilful murder of her father. Mr. Francis Blandy was an
attorney residing at Henley-on-Thames, and held the office of town-clerk
of that place. Possessed of ample means, his house became the scene of
much gaiety; and as report gave to his daughter a fortune of no
inconsiderable extent, and as, besides, her manners were sprightly and
affable, and her appearance engaging, her hand was sought in marriage by
many persons whose rank and wealth rendered them fitting to become her
partner for life. But among all these visitants, none were received with
greater pleasure by Mr. or Mrs. Blandy, or their daughter, than those
who held commissions in the army. This predilection was evidenced in the
introduction of the Hon. William Henry Cranstoun, at that time engaged
on the recruiting service for a foot regiment, in which he ranked as
captain.
Captain Cranstoun was the son of Lord Cranstoun, a Scotch peer of
ancient family, and through the instrumentality of his uncle, Lord Mark
Ker, he had obtained his commission. In the year 1745, he had married a
young lady of good family named Murray, with whom he received an ample
fortune; and in the year 1752, he was ordered to England to endeavour to
procure his complement of men for his regiment. His bad fortune led him
to Henley, and there he formed an intimacy with Miss Blandy. At this
time Cranstoun was forty-six years of age, while Miss Blandy was twenty
years his junior; and it is somewhat extraordinary that a person of her
accomplishments and beauty should have formed a _liaison_ with a man so
much older than herself, and who, besides, is represented as having been
devoid of all personal attractions.
A short acquaintance, it appears, was sufficient to excite the flame of
passion in the mind of the gallant captain, as well as of Miss Blandy;
and ere long, their troth was plighted, that they would be for ever one.
The captain, however, felt the importance of forestalling any
information which might reach the ears of his new love of the existence
of any person who possessed a better right to his affections than she;
and he therefore informed her that he was engaged in a disagreeable
lawsuit with a young lady in Scotland who had claimed him as her
husband; but he assured her that it was a mere affair of gallantry, of
which the process of the law would in the course of a very short time
relieve him. This disclosure being followed by an offer of marriage,
Cranstoun was referred to Mr. Blandy, and he obtained an easy
acquiescence on his part in the wishes expressed by the young lady.
At this juncture, an intimation being conveyed to Lord Ker of the
proceedings of his nephew, his lordship took instant steps to apprise
Mr. Blandy of the position of Cranstoun. Prejudice had, however, worked
its end as well with the father as the daughter, and the assertion of
the intended bridegroom of the falsehood of the allegations made was
sufficient to dispel all the fears which the report of Lord Ker had
raised. But although Captain Cranstoun had thus temporarily freed
himself from the effects of the imputation cast upon him, he felt that
some steps were necessary to get his first marriage annulled, and he at
length wrote to his wife, requesting her to disown him for a husband.
The substance of this letter was, that, having no other way of rising to
preferment but in the army, he had but little ground to expect
advancement there, while it was known he was encumbered with a wife and
family; but could he once pass for a single man, he had not the least
doubt of being quickly promoted, which would procure him a sufficiency
to maintain her as well as himself in a genteeler manner than now he was
able to do. "All, therefore, (adds he) I have to request of you is, that
you will transcribe the enclosed copy of a letter, wherein you disown me
for a husband; put your maiden name to it, and send it by the post. All
the use I shall make of it shall be to procure my advancement, which
will necessarily include your own benefit. In full assurance that you
will comply with my request, I remain your most affectionate husband."
Mrs. Cranstoun, ill as she had been treated by her husband, and little
hope as she had of more generous usage, was, after repeated letters had
passed, induced to give up her claim, and at length sent the desired
communication. On this, an attempt was made by him to annul the
marriage, this letter being produced as evidence; but the artifice being
discovered, the suit was dismissed, with costs. Mr. Blandy soon obtained
intelligence of this circumstance, and convinced now of the falsehood of
his intended son-in-law, he conveyed a knowledge of it to his daughter;
but she and her mother repelled the insinuations which were thrown out,
and declared, in obedience to what they had been told by the gallant
captain, that the suit was not yet terminated, for that an appeal to the
House of Lords would immediately be made. Soon after this, Mrs. Blandy
died, and her husband began now to show evident dislike for Captain
Cranstoun's visits; but the latter complained to the daughter of the
father's ill-treatment, and insinuated that he had a method of
conciliating his esteem; and that when he arrived in Scotland he would
send her some powders proper for the purpose; on which, to prevent
suspicion, he would write "Powders to clean the Scotch pebbles."
Cranstoun sent her the powders, according to promise, and Mr. Blandy
being indisposed on the Sunday se'nnight before his death, Susan Gunnel,
a maid-servant, made him some water-gruel, into which Miss Blandy
conveyed some of the powder, and gave it to her father; and repeating
this draught on the following day, he was tormented with the most
violent pains in his bowels.
The disorder, which had commenced with symptoms of so dangerous a
character, soon increased; and the greatest alarm was felt by the
medical attendants of the old gentleman, that death alone would
terminate his sufferings. Every effort was made by which it was hoped
that his life could be saved; but at length, when all possibility of his
recovery was past, his wretched daughter rushed into his presence, and
in an agony of tears and lamentations, confessed that she was the author
of his sufferings and of his inevitable death. Urged to account for her
conduct, which to her father appeared inexplicable, she denied, with the
loudest asseverations, all guilty intention. She repeated the tale of
her love, and of the insidious arts employed by Cranstoun, but asserted
that she was unaware of the deadly nature of the powders, and that her
sole object in administering them was to procure her father's affection
for her lover. Death soon terminated the accumulated misery of the
wretched parent, and the daughter had scarcely witnessed his demise, ere
she became an inmate of a jail.
At the ensuing assizes at Oxford, Miss Blandy was indicted for the
wilful murder of her father, and was immediately found guilty, upon the
confession which she had made. She addressed the jury at great length,
repeating the story which she had before related; but all was of no
avail, and sentence of death was passed.
After conviction, the wretched young woman behaved with the utmost
decency and penitence. She spent the night before her execution in
devotion; and at nine in the morning of the 6th of April 1752, she left
her apartment to be conducted to the scaffold, habited in a black
bombasin dress, her arms being bound with black ribands. On her
ascending the gallows, she begged that she might not be hanged high,
"for the sake of decency;" and on her being desired to go a little
higher, expressed her fear that she should fall. The rope being put
round her neck, she pulled her handkerchief over her face, and was
turned off on holding out a book of devotions, which she had been
reading.
The crowd of spectators assembled on this occasion was immense; and when
she had hung the usual time she was cut down, and the body being put
into a hearse, was conveyed to Henley, and interred with her parents, at
one o'clock on the following morning.
It will be proper now to return to Cranstoun, who was the original
contriver of this horrid murder. Having heard of Miss Blandy's
commitment to Oxford jail, he concealed himself some time in Scotland,
and then escaped to Boulogne, in France. Meeting there with Mrs. Ross,
who was distantly related to his family, he acquainted her with his
situation, and begged her protection; on which she advised him to change
his name for her maiden name of Dunbar. Some officers in the French
service, who were related to his wife, hearing of his concealment, vowed
revenge, if they should meet with him, for his cruelty to the unhappy
woman: on which he fled to Paris, from whence he went to Furnes, a town
in Flanders, where Mrs. Ross had provided a lodging for his reception.
He had not been long at Furnes when he was seized with a severe fit of
illness, which brought him to a degree of reflection to which he had
been long a stranger. At length he sent for a father belonging to an
adjacent convent, and received absolution from his hands, on declaring
himself a convert to the Romish faith.
Cranstoun died on the 30th of November, 1752; and the fraternity of
monks and friars looked on his conversion as an object of such
importance, that solemn mass was sung on the occasion, and the body was
followed to the grave not only by the ecclesiastics, but by the
magistrates of the town.
JOHN M'CANELLY AND LUKE MORGAN.
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
These men were of that class who usually visit England during harvest,
from the sister kingdom, and who, if they possessed honesty, would prove
most useful to the community of this country.
It appears that in the year 1751, Mr. Porter, a farmer of great
respectability, residing in Cheshire, had engaged a number of Irish
people to assist in gathering his harvest, when on one evening in the
month of August he was alarmed, while sitting at supper, by hearing that
they had attacked his house. Every effort was employed by him and his
family to oppose the entry of their assailants, but their power being
small, in the course of a few minutes the doors were burst in, and they
found themselves surrounded by a gang, whose ferocious demands for money
or blood convinced them of the uselessness of resistance. Mr. Porter,
however, for a while delayed meeting the demands which were made upon
him, in the hope that some assistance might arrive; but his ruffian
assailants bound him with cords, and threatened instant destruction if
his money and plate were not instantly brought forth. Miss Porter at
this moment made her appearance, supplicating for the life of her
parent, when she in turn was seized and bound, and was compelled to
discover the chest in which the valuables were kept.
In the confusion created by these proceedings, the youngest daughter, a
girl of thirteen, whose presence of mind and courage were alike
admirable, made her escape, and determined to procure some assistance to
repel the attack which had been made; and running into the stable, she
got astride the bare back of a horse, with the halter only in his mouth,
and galloping over hedges and ditches, so as to avoid the house, from
which she might be seen by the villains, she rode to Pulford, a village
at a short distance, to inform her eldest brother of the danger to which
their relations at the farm were exposed. Young Porter, with a friend
named Craven, (whose conduct certainly was the very opposite of his
name,) immediately resolved upon attacking the villains in turn, and,
with the girl, set off at full speed to render such aid as lay in their
power. On their reaching the farm, they discovered a fellow on the
watch, whom they instantly killed with so little noise as to create no
alarm, and then proceeding to the parlour, they found four others in the
very act of placing old Mr. Porter on the fire, having deprived him of
his clothes, in order to extort from him a confession of the depository
of his money, his daughter being on her knees at their side praying for
his life. The appearance of two strangers was sufficient to induce the
villains at once to desist from their horrid purpose; and being now
violently attacked, they were compelled to use their utmost exertions to
defend themselves. A desperate conflict took place, but one of the
robbers being felled senseless to the ground, and the others wounded and
deprived of their arms, they jumped through the window and ran off.
They were instantly pursued by the young men, and the alarm having by
this time been given, M'Canelly and Morgan were secured on Chester
bridge, having a silver tankard in their possession which they had
stolen from Mr. Porter's house. A fellow named Stanley, who turned out
to be ringleader in this desperate attack, was subsequently apprehended
on board a vessel bound for the West Indies, at Liverpool: and with
M'Canelly, Morgan, and a youth named Boyd, who had been left in the
house, was committed to Chester jail for trial.
They were indicted at the ensuing assizes held in March, 1752, and after
a long investigation, were found guilty and sentenced to death; but
Boyd, in whose case some mitigating circumstances were proved, was
respited, and his punishment eventually commuted to transportation for
life.
On the night before the execution, Stanley slipped his irons, and got
clear off from the jail, not without some suspicion that his escape was
connived at by the keeper.
On the 25th May, 1752, M'Canelly and Morgan were brought out of prison
in order to be hanged. Their behaviour was as decent as could be
expected from persons of their station. They both declared that Stanley,
who escaped, was the sole contriver of the robbery. They died in the
Catholic faith, and were attended by a priest of that persuasion.
ELIZABETH JEFFRIES AND JOHN SWAN.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of these offenders is one of the greatest atrocity. It appears
that the female was the niece of a gentleman of respectability residing
at Walthamstow, who, having acquired an ample fortune, and having no
children, adopted his brother's daughter, and made a will in her favour,
bequeathing to her nearly his whole estate. The girl, however, returned
her uncle's kindness with ingratitude, and having heard him declare that
he would alter his will on account of her bad behaviour, she determined
to
[Illustration: _Duel between Lord Mahon and the Duke_]
prevent his carrying his design to her detriment into execution by
murdering him. She soon discovered her inability to complete this
project single-handed, and she gained the assistance of her accomplice
in the crime, John Swan, who was in the employment of her uncle, and
with whom there is good reason to believe she was on terms of intimacy.
They endeavoured to suborn a simple fellow named Matthews to assist
them, but although the promise of a large reward at first staggered him,
his terrors eventually steeled him against the temptations held out to
him. The night of the 3rd July, 1751, was fixed upon for the completion
of this villany; and at the trial, which took place at Chelmsford,
before Mr. Justice Wright, on the 11th March, 1752, the following facts
were proved:
Matthews having travelled from Yorkshire was accidentally met in Epping
Forest by Mr. Jeffries, who gave him employment as an assistant to Swan,
who was his gardener. After he had been at work only four days, he was
sent up stairs by Miss Jeffries to wipe a chest of drawers, and she
followed him, and asked him if he was willing to earn one hundred
pounds? He answered that he was, "in an honest way;" on which she
desired him to go to Swan. He accordingly joined him in the garden, and
he offered him seven hundred pounds to murder their master. He
acquiesced; and on his being dismissed two days afterwards, Swan gave
him half a guinea to buy a brace of pistols; but having spent the money
given to him, he was ordered to meet Miss Jeffries and Swan at
Walthamstow on the Tuesday following, at ten o'clock at night, the
object being then to carry out their intentions with respect to the
murder.
When he arrived, he found the garden door on the latch; and going into
the pantry, he hid himself behind a tub till about eleven o'clock, when
Swan brought him some cold boiled beef. About twelve Miss Jeffries and
Swan came to him; when the latter said, "Now it is time to knock the old
miser, my master, on the head;" but Matthews relented and said, "I
cannot find it in my heart to do it." Miss Jeffries then immediately
replied, "You may be d--d for a villain, for not performing your
promise!" And Swan, who was provided with pistols, also loudly abused
him, and said he had a mind to blow his brains out for the refusal. Swan
then produced a book, and insisted that Matthews should swear that he
would not discover what had passed: and he did so, with this reserve,
"unless it was to save his own life." Soon after this Matthews heard the
report of a pistol; when getting out of the house by the back way, he
crossed the ferry, and proceeded to Enfield Chase. Immediately
afterwards Miss Jeffries appeared at the door of the house, and called
out for assistance, and some of the neighbours going in, they found Mr.
Jeffries dying, but they failed in discovering any thing which could
lead to the supposition of any person having quitted the house. Violent
suspicions in consequence arose, and Miss Jeffries was taken into
custody, but no evidence arising to criminate her, she was discharged,
and immediately administered to her uncle's estate and took possession
of his property. Renewed suspicions, however, were raised, and Matthews
having been discovered, Jeffries and Swan were apprehended. Upon this
testimony a verdict of Guilty was returned.
After conviction Elizabeth Jeffries made the following confession:--
"I, Elizabeth Jeffries, do freely and voluntarily confess that I first
enticed and persuaded John Swan and Thomas Matthews to undertake and
perpetrate the murder of my deceased uncle, which they both consented
to do the first opportunity. That on the third day of July 1751, myself
and John Swan (Matthews, to my knowledge, not being in the house) agreed
to kill my said uncle; and, accordingly, after the maid was gone to bed,
I went into John Swan's room, and called him, and we went down together
into the kitchen, and having assisted Swan in putting some pewter and
other things into a sack, I said I could do no more, and then I went
into my room; and afterwards Swan came up, as I believe, and went into
my uncle's room and shot him; which done, he came to my door and rapped.
Accordingly I went out in my shift, and John Swan opened the door and
let me out. That done, I alarmed the neighbourhood. And I do solemnly
declare that I do not know that any person was concerned in the murder
of my deceased uncle but myself and John Swan; for that Matthews did not
come to my uncle's house the day before, or night in which the murder
was committed as I know of.
"ELIZABETH JEFFRIES."
"Taken and acknowledged March 12, 1752."
Swan for some time expressed great resentment at Miss Jeffries's
confession; but when he learned that he was to be hung in chains he
began to relent, and seemed at length to behold his crime in its true
light of enormity.
On the day of execution the convicts left the prison at four in the
morning, Miss Jeffries being placed in a cart and Swan on a sledge. The
unfortunate woman repeatedly fainted on her way to the gallows; and
having fallen into a fit, had not recovered when she was turned off. The
execution took place near the six-mile-stone on Epping Forest on the
28th of March 1752; and the body of Miss Jeffries having been delivered
to her friends for interment, the gibbet was removed to another part of
the forest, where Swan was hung in chains.
DOCTOR ARCHIBALD CAMERON.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
The Scottish rebellion had been suppressed nearly eight years, and
England had, during that time, enjoyed internal peace, when Doctor
Cameron fell a victim to his exertions in the cause of the Pretender.
Doctor Cameron was the brother of the chief of the Highland clan of the
same name; and it appears that having studied successively at Glasgow,
Edinburgh, Paris, and Leyden, he returned to Scotland admirably
qualified to practise the profession of medicine, to which he had been
brought up. Although educated in a manner which rendered him fit to mix
in the best society of the day, he took up his residence in the district
of Lochaber, where, in a short time, he was married to a lady of
respectable family. Universally esteemed, and beloved by his neighbours
for his zealous and effectual services in the civilisation of the
manners of his countrymen, and for his generous conduct in the
attendance of the sick poor, he was residing in the bosom of his family,
when the rebellion of 1745 broke out, which laid waste the country, and
introduced misery and wretchedness to many a happy home. The chief of
the Camerons was a zealous friend to Prince Charles; and although he
firmly believed that any attempt at the restoration of the Stuart family
to the throne of England must prove abortive, yet being pledged to
assist his prince, he generously sacrificed his own feelings, and
appeared in arms at the head of nearly twelve hundred men. Thus arrayed
he sent for his brother to undertake the medical charge of his troops;
but although the doctor urged every argument which could be raised
against so rash an undertaking as that which was proposed, he was at
length compelled to forego all further resistance, and to attend the
army in his professional capacity, although he absolutely refused to
accept any commission. Thus circumstanced, Doctor Cameron was remarkable
throughout the whole advance and retreat of the rebel army for the
humanity and assiduity with which he attended all, whether friend or
foe, who required his aid. And when the battle of Culloden put an end to
all the hopes of the Pretender, he and his brother escaped to France in
a vessel belonging to that kingdom. While in France, the doctor was
appointed physician to a French regiment, of which his brother obtained
the command; but the latter dying about two years afterwards, he joined
Ogilvie's regiment in Flanders.
In the meantime proceedings had been taken against the rebel leaders in
England, many of whom had forfeited their lives to the offended laws of
their country, and by an act of attainder passed in the year 1746, for
the effectual punishment of persons concerned in the rebellion, the life
of Doctor Cameron was declared to be forfeited. In the years 1750 and
1752, subscriptions were entered into in Scotland for the support of
those persons who had escaped into foreign countries, and Doctor Cameron
having already more than once visited his native country, finally in the
latter year came over to Scotland, for the purpose of procuring some
permanent relief for himself and his suffering fellow-countrymen abroad.
Rumours were soon set afloat that he was in Scotland, and a detachment
of Lord George Beaufort's regiment was sent in search of him. Being made
acquainted with the vicinity of his hiding-place, but being unable for a
considerable time to discover its exact locality, the soldiers were
unable to secure their prisoner; but at length perceiving a little girl,
who appeared to be acting as a scout, they followed her until she met a
boy, who was evidently employed in a similar capacity, to whom they
observed that she whispered something. They directly pursued the boy,
but being unable to reach him, they presented their guns, threatening to
shoot him if he did not immediately stop. Having then secured his
person, they menaced him with instant death if he did not inform them of
the hiding-place of Dr. Cameron. The boy pointed to the house where he
was concealed, and the unfortunate gentleman was directly placed under
arrest, and was then immediately sent to Edinburgh, and from thence
subsequently to London, where he was placed in confinement in the Tower.
Upon his examination before the Privy Council, he denied that he was the
person mentioned in the Act of Attainder; but being brought to the bar
of the Court of King's Bench on the 17th of May, he acknowledged that he
was the person who had been attainted; on which Lord Chief Justice Lee
pronounced sentence in the following terms:--"You, Archibald Cameron, of
Lochiel, in that part of Great Britain called Scotland, must be removed
from hence to his Majesty's prison of the Tower of London, from whence
you came, and on Thursday, the 7th of June next, your body to be drawn
on a sledge to the place of execution, there to be hanged, but not till
you are dead,--your bowels to be taken out, your body quartered, your
head cut off, and affixed at the king's disposal,--and the Lord have
mercy on your soul!"
After his commitment to the Tower he begged to see his wife, who was
then at Lille, in Flanders; and, on her arrival, the meeting between
them was inexpressibly affecting. The unfortunate lady wept incessantly;
and on her going to take her final leave of her husband, on the morning
of execution, she was attacked with fits, which left her only after
grief had deprived her of her senses.
On the morning of the 7th June, 1753, the unhappy man was carried to
Tyburn to be executed. He was dressed in a light-coloured coat, red
waistcoat and breeches, and a new bag-wig. He looked much at the
spectators in the houses and balconies, as well as at those in the
street, and bowed to several persons with whom he was acquainted. He was
attended at the scaffold by a clergyman of the Church of England; and
before his being turned off, he declared that he was at peace with all
men, and that he died firmly hoping for the forgiveness of his sins
through the merits of his blessed Redeemer. When his body had hung
during twenty minutes it was cut down, and the heart was taken out and
burned, but the sentence was not further fulfilled. On the following
Sunday, his remains were interred in a large vault in the Savoy chapel.
Dr. Cameron, it appears, was the last person who suffered punishment on
account of connection with the rebellion of Scotland; and of all those
who were concerned in it, probably he least of all deserved the unhappy
fate which befel him. The very small, and apparently unwilling part
which he took in the proceedings, should have screened him from condign
punishment, more especially at a period when all appearance of
discontent having vanished, no further harm was to be apprehended.
CAPTAIN JOHN LANCEY.
EXECUTED FOR BURNING HIS SHIP.
Captain Lancey was a native of Biddeford, in Devonshire, and was
respectably connected. At an early age, he exhibited a predilection for
a seafaring life, and having served his apprenticeship, he was employed
as mate of a vessel belonging to Mr. Benson, a rich merchant of
Biddeford, at that time M.P. for Barnstaple.
Having married a sister of Benson's, Lancey was soon advanced to the
command of the vessel; and on his return from a voyage, he was surprised
at receiving an order from his employer to refit as soon as possible,
Mr. Benson saying that he would insure the vessel for twice her value,
and that Lancey should destroy her. The latter hesitated at first to
assent to this extraordinary proposition, and for a time the suggestion
was not again mentioned; but another opportunity being afforded to
Benson, on his brother-in-law dining with him, he plied him with wine,
and having pointed out to him the poverty to which his family might be
reduced in case of his refusal, by his being dismissed from employment,
the unhappy man at length yielded to his persuasions.
A ship was now fitted out, and bound for Maryland: goods to a large
amount were shipped on board, but re-landed before the vessel sailed,
and a lading of brick-bats taken in by way of ballast; and the vessel
had not been long at sea before a hole was bored in her side, and a cask
of combustible ingredients set on fire with a view to destroy her. The
fire no sooner appeared than the captain called to some convicted
transports, then in the hold, to inquire if they had fired the vessel;
but this appears to have been only a feint to conceal the real design.
The boat being hoisted out, all the crew got safely on shore; and then
Lancey repaired immediately to Benson to inform him of what had passed.
The latter instantly despatched him to a proctor, before whom he swore
that the ship had accidentally taken fire, and that it was impossible to
prevent the consequences which followed.
The crime was soon afterwards discovered, however, and Lancey was taken
into custody; but, secure in his anticipation of protection from Benson,
he did not express much concern at his situation. His employer, in the
mean time, was perfectly aware of the consequences which would fall upon
him, and fled to avoid them; and his unhappy dupe being brought to
trial, was capitally convicted, and received sentence of death. He
subsequently lay in prison for about four months, during which time he
pursued his devotional exercises with the utmost regularity, and was
hanged on the 7th June, 1754, at Execution Dock, in the 27th year of his
age.
NICOL BROWN.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE.
This malefactor appears to have suffered for a crime as savagely
ferocious as it was deliberate. He was a native of Cramond, near
Edinburgh, where he was decently educated, and was apprenticed to a
butcher; but his taste tending towards a seafaring life, he entered on
board a man-of-war as a sailor, and remained in that situation for four
years. On his return, he married the widow of a respectable butcher, who
had left her a decent fortune.
Taking to a habit of drinking, he seldom came home sober at night; and
his wife following his example, he used frequently to beat her for
copying his own crime. This conduct rendered both parties obnoxious to
their acquaintance; and the following revolting anecdote of Brown will
incontestably prove the unfeeling brutality of his nature.
About a week after the execution of Norman Ross (already mentioned) for
murder, Brown had been drinking with some company at Leith, till, in the
height of their jollity, they boasted what extravagant actions they
could perform. Brown swore that he would cut off a piece of flesh from
the leg of the dead man and eat it. His companions, drunk as they were,
appeared shocked at the very idea; while Brown, to prove that he was in
earnest, procured a ladder, which he carried to the gibbet, and cutting
off a piece of flesh from the leg of the suspended body of Ross, brought
it back, broiled and ate it.
The circumstances of the crime for which he was executed were as follow.
After having been drinking at an alehouse in the Canongate, he went home
at about eleven at night, in a high degree of intoxication. His wife was
also much in liquor; but, though equally criminal himself, he was
exasperated against her, and struck her so violently that she fell from
her chair. The noise of her fall alarmed the neighbours; but, as
frequent quarrels had happened between them, no immediate notice was
taken of the affair. In about fifteen minutes, the wife was heard to cry
out "Murder! help! fire! the rogue is murdering me!" and the
neighbours, now apprehending real danger, knocked at the door; but no
person being in the house but Brown and his wife, admission was refused.
The woman, meantime, was heard to groan most shockingly, and a person
looking through the keyhole, saw Brown holding his wife to the fire. He
was called on to open the door, but refused to do so; and the candle
being extinguished, and the woman still continuing her cries, the door
was at length forced open. When the neighbours went in, they beheld her
a most shocking spectacle, lying half naked before the fire, and her
flesh in part broiled. In the interim, Brown had got into bed,
pretending to be asleep, and when spoken to, appeared ignorant of the
transaction. The woman, though so dreadfully burnt, retained her senses,
and accused her husband of the murder, and told in what manner it was
perpetrated. She survived till the following morning, still continuing
in the same tale, and then expired in the utmost agony.
The murderer was now seized, and being lodged in the jail of Edinburgh,
was brought to trial and capitally convicted.
On August the 14th, 1754, he was attended to the place of execution at
Edinburgh by the Rev. Dr. Brown; but to the last he denied having been
guilty of the crime for which he suffered.
After execution he was hung in chains; but the body was stolen from the
gibbet, and thrown into a pond, where being found, it was exposed as
before. In a few days, however, it was again stolen; and though a reward
was offered for its discovery, it was not again found.
EDWARD MORGAN.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The circumstances which came out on the trial of Edward Morgan, at the
assizes of Glamorgan, were these:--According to annual custom, he had
been invited by Mr. Rees Morgan, of Lanvabon, his cousin, to spend the
Christmas holidays. He had partaken of the first day's festivity, and
retired to bed along with a young man, apprentice to Mr. Rees Morgan. No
sooner had he laid his head upon the pillow, to use his own expression,
than the devil whispered him to get up and murder the whole family, and
he determined to obey.
He first made an attempt on the apprentice, his bedfellow; but he
struggled so far as to effect his escape, and hid himself. The murderer
then provided himself with a knife, which he sharpened on a stone as
deliberately as the butcher uses his steel; and thus prepared, he softly
crept to the bedchamber of his host and hostess, and cut their throats
in their sleep. He then proceeded to the bed of their beautiful
daughter, with whom the monster had but an hour before been sporting and
playing, and with equal expedition, and by the same means, robbed her of
life. Not satisfied, however, with these deeds of blood, he seized a
firebrand, and proceeded to the barn and outhouses, setting fire to them
all; and, to complete the sum of his crime, he fired the dwelling-house,
after plundering it of some articles.
"The Gloucester Journal," of the year 1757, describes the property
consumed by fire on this melancholy occasion to have been "the
dwelling-house, a barn full of corn, a beast-house, with twelve head of
cattle in it."
It was at first conjectured that the unfortunate people had perished in
the conflagration. Their murdered bodies, it is too true, were consumed
to ashes; but the manner of their death was subsequently proved, partly
by what the concealed apprentice overheard, but chiefly from the
murderer's own confession. Morgan was executed at Glamorgan, April the
6th, 1757.
THE REV. JOHN GRIERSON AND THE REV. MR. WILKINSON
TRANSPORTED FOR UNLAWFULLY PERFORMING THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
Among the singular customs of our forefathers, arising in a great
measure from their indifference to decorum, one of the most remarkable
was matrimony, solemnised, we were going to say, but the fittest word
would be "performed," by the parsons in the Fleet prison, to which
reference has already frequently been made. These clerical functionaries
were disreputable and dissolute men, mostly prisoners for debt, who, to
the great injury of public morals, dared to insult the dignity of their
holy profession by marrying in the precincts of the Fleet prison, at a
minute's notice, any persons who might present themselves for that
purpose. No questions were asked, no stipulations made, except as to the
amount of the fee for the service, or the quantity of liquor to be drunk
on the occasion. It not unfrequently happened, indeed, that the
clergyman, the clerk, the bride groom and the bride, were drunk at the
very time the ceremony was performed. These disgraceful members of the
sacred calling had their "plyers," or "barkers," who, if they caught
sight of a man and woman walking together along the streets of the
neighbourhood, pestered them as the Jew clothesmen in the present day
tease the passers-by in Holywell Street, with solicitations, not easily
to be shaken off, as to whether they wanted a clergyman to marry them.
Mr. Burn, a gentleman who has recently published a curious work on the
Fleet Registers, says he has in his possession an engraving (published
about 1747) of "A Fleet Wedding between a brisk young Sailor and
Landlady's daughter at Rederiff." "The print," he adds, "represents the
old Fleet market and prison, with the sailor, landlady, and daughter,
just stepping from a hackney-coach, while two Fleet parsons in
canonicals are contending for the job. The following verses are in the
margin:
"Scarce had the coach discharg'd its trusty fare,
But gaping crowds surround th' amorous pair;
The busy Plyers make a mighty stir,
And whisp'ring cry, D'ye want the Parson, Sir?
Pray step this way--just to the Pen in Hand,
The Doctor's ready there at your command:
This way (another cries), Sir, I declare,
The true and ancient Register is here:
"Th' alarmed Parsons quickly hear the din,
And haste with soothing words t' invite 'em in:
In this confusion jostled to and fro,
Th' inamour'd couple know not where to go,
Till, slow advancing from the coach's side,
Th' experienc'd matron came, (an artful guide,)
She led the way without regarding either,
And the first Parson splic'd 'em both together."
One of the most notorious of these scandalous officials was a man of the
name of George Keith, a Scotch minister, who, being in desperate
circumstances, set up a marriage-office in May-Fair, and subsequently in
the Fleet, and carried on the same trade which has since been practised
in front of the blacksmith's anvil at Gretna Green. This man's
wedding-business was so extensive and so scandalous, that the Bishop of
London found it necessary to excommunicate him. It has been said of this
person and "_his journeyman_," that one morning, during the Whitsun
holidays, they united a greater number of couples than had been married
at any ten churches within the bills of mortality. Keith lived till he
was eighty-nine years of age, and died in 1735. The Rev. Dr. Gaynham,
another infamous functionary, was familiarly called the Bishop of Hell.
"Many of the early Fleet weddings," observes Mr. Burn, "were _really_
performed at the chapel of the Fleet; but as the practice extended, it
was found more convenient to have other places, within the Rules of the
Fleet, (added to which, the Warden was forbidden, by act of parliament,
to suffer them,) and, thereupon, many of the Fleet parsons and
tavern-keepers in the neighbourhood fitted up a room in their respective
lodgings or houses as a chapel! The parsons took the fees, allowing a
portion to the plyers, &c.; and the tavern-keepers, besides sharing in
the money paid, derived a profit from the sale of liquors which the
wedding-party drank. In some instances, the tavern-keepers _kept a
parson on the establishment_, at a weekly salary of twenty shillings!
Most of the taverns near the Fleet kept their own registers, in which
(as well as in their own books) the parsons entered the weddings." Some
of these scandalous members of the highest of all professions were in
the habit of hanging signs out of their windows with the words "WEDDINGS
PERFORMED CHEAP HERE."
Keith, of whom we have already spoken, seems to have been a bare-faced
profligate; but there is something exceedingly affecting in the stings
of conscience and forlorn compunction of one Walter Wyatt, a Fleet
parson, in one of whose pocket-books of 1716 are the following secret
(as he intended them to be) outpourings of remorse:--
"Give to every man his due, and learn ye way of Truth."
"This advice cannot be taken by those that are concerned in ye Fleet
marriages; not so much as ye Priest can do ye thing yt it is
just and right there, unless he designs to starve. For by lying,
bullying, and swearing, to extort money from the silly and unwary
people, you advance your business and get ye pelf, which always
wastes like snow in sunshiney day."
"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. The marrying in the
Fleet is the beginning of eternal woe."
"If a clerk or plyer tells a lye, you must vouch it to be as true as
ye Gospel, and if disputed, you must affirm with an oath to ye
truth of a downright damnable falsehood.--Virtus laudatur &
algetr."[9]
"May God forgive me what is past, and give me grace to forsake such a
wicked place, where truth and virtue can't take place unless you are
resolved to starve."
[Illustration]
But this very man, whose sense of his own disgrace was so deep and
apparently so contrite, was one of the most notorious, active, and
money-making of all the Fleet parsons. His practice was chiefly in
taverns, and he has been known to earn nearly sixty pounds in less than
a month.
With such facilities for marriage, and such unprincipled ministers, it
may easily be imagined that iniquitous schemes of all sorts were
perpetrated under the name of Fleet weddings. The parsons were ready,
for a bribe, to make false entries in their registers, to ante-date
weddings, to give fictitious certificates, and to marry persons who
would declare only the initials of their names. Thus, if a spinster or
widow in debt desired to cheat her creditors by pretending to have been
married before the debt was contracted, she had only to present herself
at one of the marriage-houses in the Fleet, and, upon payment of a small
additional fee to the clergyman, a man could instantly be found on the
spot to act as bridegroom for a few shillings, and the worthless
chaplain could find a blank place in his Register for any year desired,
so that there was no difficulty in making the necessary record. They
would also, for a consideration, obliterate any given entry. The sham
bridegrooms, under different names, were married over and over again,
with the full knowledge of the clerical practitioners. If, in other
instances, a libertine desired to possess himself of any young and
unsuspecting woman, who would not yield without being married, nothing
was easier than to get the service performed at the Fleet without even
the specification of names; so that the poor girl might with impunity be
shaken off at pleasure. Or if a parent found it necessary to
legitimatise his natural children, a Fleet parson could be procured to
give a marriage-certificate at any required date. In fact, all manner of
people presented themselves for marriage at the unholy dens in the Fleet
taverns,--runaway sons and daughters of peers,--Irish adventurers and
foolish rich widows,--clodhoppers and ladies from St. Giles's,--footmen
and decayed beauties,--soldiers and servant-girls,--boys in their teens
and old women of seventy,--discarded mistresses, "given away" by their
former admirers to pitiable and sordid bridegrooms,--night-wanderers and
intoxicated apprentices,--men and women having already wives and
husbands,--young heiresses conveyed thither by force, and compelled, _in
terrorem_, to be brides,--and common labourers and female paupers
dragged by parish-officers to the profane altar, stained by the relics
of drunken orgies, and reeking with the fumes of liquor and tobacco!
Nay, it sometimes happened that the "contracting parties" would send
from houses of vile repute for a Fleet parson, who could readily be
found to attend even in such places and under such circumstances, and
there unite the couple in matrimony!
Of what were called the "Parish Weddings" it is impossible to speak in
terms of sufficient reprobation. Many of the churchwardens and overseers
of that day were in the frequent practice of "getting up" marriages in
order to throw their paupers on neighbouring parishes. For example, in
the _Daily Post_ of the 4th July, 1741, is the following paragraph:--
"On Saturday last the churchwardens for a certain parish in the city, in
order to remove a load from their own shoulders, gave forty shillings,
and paid the expense of a Fleet marriage, to a miserable blind youth,
known by the name of Ambrose Tally, who plays on the violin in
Moorfields, in order to make a settlement on the wife and future family
in Shoreditch parish. To secure their point they sent a parish-officer
to see the ceremony performed. One cannot but admire the ungenerous
proceeding of this city parish, as well as their unjustifiable abetting
and encouraging an irregularity so much and so justly complained of, as
these Fleet matches. Invited and uninvited were a great number of poor
wretches, in order to spend the bride's parish fortune."
In the _Grub Street Journal_ for 1735, is the following letter,
faithfully describing, says Mr. Burn, the treachery and low habits of
the Fleet parsons:--
"SIR,--There is a very great evil in this town, and of dangerous
consequence to our sex, that has never been suppressed, to the great
prejudice and ruin of many hundreds of young people every year, which I
beg some of your learned heads to consider of, and consult of proper
ways and means to prevent for the future. I mean the ruinous marriages
that are practised in the liberty of the Fleet and thereabouts, by a set
of drunken swearing parsons, with their myrmidons, that wear black
coats, and pretend to be clerks and registers to the Fleet. These
ministers of wickedness ply about Ludgate-hill, pulling and forcing
people to some pedling ale-house or a brandy-shop to be married, even on
a Sunday stopping them as they go to church, and almost tearing their
clothes off their backs. To confirm the truth of these facts I will give
you a case or two which lately happened.
"Since Midsummer last a young lady of birth and fortune was deluded and
forced from her friends, and, by the assistance of a wry-necked swearing
parson, married to an atheistical wretch, whose life is a continued
practice of all manner of vice and debauchery. And since the ruin of my
relation, another lady of my acquaintance had like to have been
trepanned in the following manner. This lady had appointed to meet a
gentlewoman at the Old Playhouse in Drury-lane, but extraordinary
business prevented her coming. Being alone when the play was done, she
bade a boy call a coach for the city. One dressed like a gentleman helps
her into it, and jumps in after her. 'Madam,' says he, 'this coach was
called for me, and since the weather is so bad, and there is no other, I
beg leave to bear you company. I am going into the city, and will set
you down wherever you please.' The lady begged to be excused; but he
bade the coachman drive on. Being come to Ludgate-hill, he told her his
sister, who waited his coming but five doors up the court, would go with
her in two minutes. He went, and returned with his pretended sister, who
asked her to step in one minute, and she would wait upon her in the
coach. Deluded with the assurance of having his sister's company, the
poor lady foolishly followed her into the house, when instantly the
sister vanished, and a tawny fellow in a black coat and black wig
appeared. 'Madam, you are come in good time; the Doctor was just
a-going.'--'The Doctor!' says she, horribly frighted, fearing it was a
madhouse: 'what has the Doctor to do with me?'--'To marry you to that
gentleman. The Doctor has waited for you these three hours, and will be
payed by you or that gentleman before you go!'--'That gentleman,' says
she, recovering herself, 'is worthy a better fortune than mine,' and
begged hard to be gone. But Doctor Wryneck swore she should be married,
or if she would not, he would still have his fee, and register the
marriage from that night. The lady, finding she could not escape without
money or a pledge, told them she liked the gentleman so well, she would
certainly meet him to-morrow night, and gave them a ring as a pledge,
which, says she, 'was my mother's gift on her death-bed, enjoining that
if ever I married it should be my wedding-ring.' By which cunning
contrivance she was delivered from the black Doctor and his tawny crew.
Some time after this I went with this lady and her brother in a coach to
Ludgate-hill in the day-time, to see the manner of their picking up
people to be married. As soon as our coach stopped near Fleet Bridge, up
comes one of the myrmidons. 'Madam,' says he, 'you want a parson?'--'Who
are you?' says I.--'I am the clerk and register of the Fleet.'--'Show me
the chapel.' 'At which comes a second, desiring me to go along with him.
Says he, 'That fellow will carry you to a pedling alehouse.' Says a
third, 'Go with me; he wilt carry you to a brandy-shop.' In the interim
comes the Doctor. 'Madam,' says he, 'I'll do your job for you
presently!'--'Well, gentlemen,' says I, 'since you can't agree, and I
can't be married quietly, I'll put it off 'till another time:' so drove
away. Learned sirs, I wrote this in regard to the honour and safety of
my own sex: and if for our sakes you will be so good as to publish it,
correcting the errors of a woman's pen, you will oblige our whole sex,
and none more than, sir,
"Your constant reader and admirer, "VIRTUOUS."
Such are but a few of the iniquities practised by the ministers of the
Fleet. Similar transactions were carried on at the Chapel in May Fair,
the Mint in the Borough, the Savoy, and other places about London; until
the public scandal became so great, especially in consequence of the
marriage at the Fleet of the Hon. Henry Fox with Georgiana Caroline,
eldest daughter of the Duke of Richmond, that at length,--not, however,
without much and zealous opposition,--a Marriage Bill was passed,
enacting that any person solemnising matrimony in any other than a
church or public chapel, without banns or license, should, on
conviction, be adjudged _guilty of felony_, and be transported for
fourteen years, and that all such marriages _should be void_. This act
was to take effect from the 25th of March, 1754.
Upon the passing of this law, Keith, the parson who has already been
alluded to, published a pamphlet entitled, "Observations on the Act for
Preventing Clandestine Marriages." To this he prefixed his portrait. The
following passages are highly characteristic of the man:--
"'Happy is the wooing that is not long a-doing,' is an old proverb, and
a very true one; but we shall have no occasion for it after the 25th day
of March next, when we are commanded to read it backwards, and from that
period (fatal indeed to Old England!) we must date the declension of the
numbers of the inhabitants of England."--"As I have married many
thousands, and consequently have on those occasions seen the humour of
the lower class of people, I have often asked the married pair how long
they had been acquainted; they would reply, some more, some less, but
the generality did not exceed the acquaintance of a week, some only of a
day, half a day," &c.--"Another inconveniency which will arise from this
act will be, that the expense of being married will be so great, that
few of the lower class of people can afford; for I have often heard a
Fleet-parson say, that many have come to be married when they have but
had half-a-crown in their pockets, and sixpence to buy a pot of beer,
and for which they have pawned some of their clothes."--"I remember once
on a time, I was at a public-house at Radcliff, which then was full of
sailors and their girls; there was fiddling, piping, jigging, and
eating: at length, one of the tars starts up, and says, 'D--n ye, Jack,
I'll be married just now; I will have my partner, and....' The joke
took, and in less than two hours ten couple set out for the Fleet. I
staid their return. They returned in coaches, five women in each coach,
the tars, some running before, others riding on the coach-box, and
others behind. The cavalcade being over, the couples went up into an
upper room, where they concluded the evening with great jollity. The
next time I went that way I called on my landlord and asked him
concerning this marriage adventure. He at first stared at me, but
recollecting, he said those things were so frequent that he hardly took
any notice of them; for, added he, it is a common thing when a fleet
comes in, to have two or three hundred marriages in a week's time, among
the sailors." He humorously concludes, "If the present Act in the form
it now stands should (which I am sure is impossible) be of service to my
country, I shall then have the satisfaction of having been the occasion
of it, because the compilers thereof have done it with a pure design of
suppressing my _Chapel_, which makes me the most celebrated man in this
kingdom, though not the greatest."
The passing of the Marriage Act put a stop to the marriages at May Fair;
but the day before the Act came into operation (Lady-day 1754)[10]
sixty-one couple were married there.[11]
It would exceed the limits of this brief sketch were we to give the
_official_ history of the different scandalous ministers who thus
disgraced themselves, and impiously trifled with one of our most sacred
institutions. That some of these wretched adventurers were merely
pretended clergymen is certain; but it cannot be denied that many of
them were actually in holy orders.
Of this latter class were Grierson and Wilkinson, the subjects of our
present notice; and notwithstanding the heavy penalties imposed by the
statute, they were not to be deterred from continuing the dangerous and
unlawful traffic in which they had been engaged. Wilkinson, who was the
brother of a celebrated comedian of the day, it would appear, was the
owner of a chapel in the Savoy, and Grierson was his assistant; and
their proceedings having at length become too notorious to be passed
over, proceedings were instituted against them. Grierson was first
apprehended, and his employer sought safety in flight; but supposing
that he could not be deemed guilty of any offence, as he had not
actually performed the marriage ceremony, a duty which he left to his
journeyman, he returned to his former haunts. It was not long before he
was secured, however, and having been convicted with Grierson, they were
shipped off as convicts together to the colonies, in the year 1757.
WILLIAM PAGE.
EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.
William Page was the son of a respectable farmer at Hampton, and being a
lad of promising parts he was sent to London to be educated under the
care of his cousin, a haberdasher. His early life, by the superstitious
believers of old sayings, would be adduced as proof positive of the
truth of the old adage, that "a man who is born to be hanged will never
be drowned;" and although we cannot put much faith generally in such
notions, we cannot help in this instance pointing out some peculiarities
in the adventures of our hero, which might have been considered by him
as a sufficient indication of his fate. The early chronicler of his life
says, that, during the hard frost in the winter of 1739, Page was
sliding with other boys on the canal in St. James's Park, when the ice
broke under him, and he sank; and the ice immediately closing over him,
he must have perished; but just at this juncture the ice again broke
with another boy near him, and Page arose precisely at the vacancy made
by the latter, and was saved, although his companion was drowned. The
second instance of the intervention of his good fortune occurred in the
summer following this singular escape. Page was then trying to swim with
corks in the Thames, when they slipped from under his arms, and he sank;
but a waterman got him up, and he soon recovered. On the third occasion
he was going up the river on a party of pleasure, about five years
afterwards, with several other young fellows, when the boat overset with
them in Chelsea Reach, and every one in the boat was drowned except
Page. But his fourth and last escape from a watery grave was even more
miraculous than any of those which preceded it. About eighteen months
after that which is last related he was on a voyage to Scotland. The
ship in which he sailed foundered in Yarmouth Roads, and most of the
people on board perished; but another vessel, observing their distress,
sent out a long-boat, by the help of which Page and a few others saved
their lives.
To return, however, to the ordinary events of his life. It appears, that
his cousin having given him employment in his shop, his vanity prevented
him from bestowing that attention on his business to which it was
entitled; and his extravagance being checked by his relation, who
stopped his pocket-money in order to curb his refined notions, he had
recourse to plunder to supply his necessities. Money being repeatedly
missed from the till, and all attempts to discover the thief among the
servants having failed, suspicion at length rested on our hero; and his
guilt having been distinctly proved he was dismissed from his situation
forthwith. An effort which he made to conciliate his relation after this
proved ineffectual; and his father, who had learned the nature of his
irregularities, having refused to render him any assistance, he at
length journeyed to York, and there joined a company of strolling
players. His exertions in his new capacity were not unsuccessful; but at
length attempting to play Cato while in a state of intoxication, his
character in the play and his condition of person were found to agree so
badly, that he was compelled to be carried from the stage, and was
dismissed from his engagement. He afterwards went to Scarborough, where
his necessities compelled him to accept a situation as livery-servant
with a gentleman; but his master having been robbed on his way to town,
he formed a notion that highway robbery was an easy and profitable mode
of living; and determined that so soon as he should have the means of
starting in the profession, he would become a "gentleman of the road."
Quitting his master at the end of twelve months, he became acquainted
with a woman of abandoned character, in conjunction with whom he took
lodgings near Charing Cross, and he then commenced highwayman. His first
expedition was on the Kentish road; and meeting the Canterbury stage
near Shooter's-hill, he robbed the passengers of watches and money to
the amount of about thirty pounds; and then riding through great part of
Kent to take an observation of the cross-roads, he returned to London.
He now took lodgings near Grosvenor-square, and frequenting
billiard-tables won a little money, which, added to his former stock,
prevented his having recourse to the highway again for a considerable
time; but at length he met with a gambler who was more expert than
himself, and stripped him of all his money. He then again sought the
road as a means of subsistence. His exertions were for some time
fruitless; but at length meeting with a handsome booty, he was
emboldened by his success; and taking handsome lodgings he soon gained
the friendship of some young men of fashion. His next object was to
improve his mind and person; and having gained some knowledge, by dint
of impudence and through a pleasing exterior he got introduced into
decent society.
By this time, he had drawn, from his own observation and for his private
use, a most curious map of the roads twenty miles round London; and,
driving in a phaeton and pair, he was not suspected for a highwayman.
In his excursions for robbery he used to dress in a laced or embroidered
frock, and wear his hair tied behind; but when at a distance from
London, he would turn into some unfrequented place, and, having
disguised himself in other clothes, with a grizzle or black wig, and
saddled one of his horses, he would ride to the main road, and commit a
robbery. This done, he hastened back to the carriage, resumed his former
dress, and drove to town again. He was frequently cautioned to be on his
guard against a highwayman, who might meet and rob him: "No, no," said
he, "he cannot do it a second time, unless he robs me of my coat and
shirt, for he has taken all my money already."
He had once an escape of a very remarkable kind:--Having robbed a
gentleman near Putney, some persons came up at the juncture, and pursued
him so closely that he was obliged to cross the Thames for his security.
In the interim, some haymakers crossing the field where Page's carriage
was left, found and carried off his gay apparel; and the persons who had
pursued him, meeting them, charged them with being accomplices in the
robbery. A report of this affair being soon spread, Page heard of it,
and throwing his clothes into a well, he went back almost naked, claimed
the carriage as his own, and declared that the men had stripped him, and
thrown him into a ditch. All the parties now went before a justice of
the peace; and the maker of the carriage appearing, and declaring that
it was the property of Mr. Page, the poor haymakers were committed for
trial; but obtained their liberty after the next assizes, as Page did
not appear to prosecute.
After this, he made no farther use of the phaeton as a disguise for his
robberies; but it served him occasionally on parties of pleasure, which
he sometimes took with a girl whom he had then in keeping.
Page was passionately fond of play, and his practice this way was
occasionally attended with good fortune. One night he went to the
masquerade with only ten guineas, but joining a party at cards, he won
above five hundred pounds; but this money was no sooner in his
possession, than a lady, most magnificently dressed, made some advances
to him, on which he put the most favourable construction. After some
conversation, she told him that her mother was a widow who would not
admit of his visits; but that possibly he might prevail on her
attendant, whose husband was a reputable tradesman, to give them
admission to her house.
Page, who had repeatedly heard the other address her by the title of "My
lady," became very importunate with the good woman to grant this favour;
and at length, all parties having agreed, the servants were called. Page
handed the lady and her attendant into a coach, on which was the coronet
of a viscountess. Two footmen with flambeaux got up behind, and the
coachman was ordered to drive home. The "home" which they reached,
however, was a brothel; and on the lady quitting him in the morning, he
found that she had been dexterous enough to rob him of his pocket-book
and its contents, which no doubt more than compensated her for the
favour which she had bestowed upon him.
The road and the gaming-table were now his only means of support, and he
found a fitting companion in his proceedings in the person of an old
schoolfellow named Darwell, in conjunction with whom, in the course of
three years, he committed upwards of three hundred robberies. At length,
however, their iniquitous proceedings caused an active search to be made
for them; and Darwell being apprehended, "peached" upon his companion,
and disclosed the places where it was most likely that he would be
found.
The consequence was, that Page was apprehended at the Golden Lion, near
Hyde Park, when three loaded pistols were found on him, with powder,
balls, a wig to disguise himself, and the correct map of the roads round
London which we have already mentioned.
He was sent to Newgate, and an advertisement inserted in the papers,
requesting such persons as had been robbed to attend his re-examination
but he denied all that was alleged against him; and, as he was always
disguised when he committed any robbery, no person present could
identify his person.
He was tried at length on suspicion of robbing Mr. Webb in Belfourd
Lane, but acquitted for want of evidence; and after this he was tried at
Hertford, but again acquitted for a like reason.
From Hertford he was removed to Maidstone jail, and being tried at
Rochester for robbing Captain Farrington on Blackheath, he was capitally
convicted, and received sentence of death. After conviction he
acknowledged his guilt, yet exerted himself in the most strenuous manner
to procure a pardon. He wrote to a nobleman with this view, and also
sent a letter to a gentleman with whom he had lived as a servant,
begging his interest that he might be sent to America as a foot-soldier;
but his endeavours proved fruitless, and he was ordered for execution.
This extraordinary malefactor suffered at Maidstone on the 6th of April,
1758.
EUGENE ARAM.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
We are now arrived at that period which brings to our view perhaps the
most remarkable trial in our whole Calendar. The offender was a man of
extraordinary endowments and of high education, and therefore little to
be suspected of committing so foul a crime as that proved against him.
Much has been written upon the subject of this murder, and attempts have
been made, even of late years, to show the innocence of Aram. The
contents of the publications upon the subject would be sufficient of
themselves to fill our volumes; and it would be useless to republish
arguments, which, having had due circulation and due consideration, have
failed in their object, which was to convince the world that this
offender was the victim of prejudice, and fell an innocent sacrifice to
the laws of his country. We shall, therefore, abstain from giving this
case greater space in our Calendar than that to which it is entitled, as
well on account of the peculiarity of its nature, as of the great
interest which its mention has always excited. The peculiarities of the
case are twofold; first, the great talents of the offender, and
secondly, the extraordinary discovery of the perpetration of the murder,
and of the evidence which led to the conviction of the murderer. On the
former point, indeed, some seem to have entertained a doubt; for about
thirty years after his execution, his name being inserted among the
literary characters of the country, in the "Biographia Britannica," and
his high erudition being mentioned, a pamphlet was put forth,
complaining of this step on the part of the editors of that work, and
accusing them of a want of impartiality in affording their meed of
praise to Aram, and withholding it from Bishop Atherton, who also met
with an ignominious death. The charge was, however, answered more ably
than it was made; and as it may prove interesting to our readers, we
shall subjoin the refutation to the complaint, which appears distinctly
to support Aram's right to the character which was originally given to
him. It is said:--
"Objections are made to the admission of Eugene Aram into the Biographia
Britannica, and the exclusion of Bishop Atherton; but it appears to me
that the remarks on this subject are far from being just. The insertion
of Aram is objected to because he was a man of bad principles, and
terminated his life on the gallows; but it should be remembered that it
was never understood that in the Biographia Britannica the lives of
virtuous men only were to be recorded. In the old edition are the lives
of several persons who ended their days by the hands of the executioner.
Bonner was not a virtuous man, and yet was very properly inserted, as
well as Henry Cuff, who was executed at Tyburn in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth. As to Eugene Aram, it is truly said of him in the Biographia
Britannica, in the article objected to, that the progress he made in
literature, allowing for the little instruction he had received, may
justly be considered as astonishing; and that his powers of mind were
uncommonly great cannot reasonably be questioned. Eugene Aram possessed
talents and acquisitions that might have classed him among the most
respectable of human characters, if his moral qualities had been equal
to his intellectual. It was certainly the extraordinary talents and
acquirements of Eugene Aram which occasioned his introduction into the
Biographia; and I know that by persons of undoubted taste and judgment,
the account of him in that work has been thought a curious and
interesting article. His singular defence alone was well worthy of being
preserved in such a work.
"With respect to Bishop Atherton, he never had the least claim to
insertion in such a work as the Biographia Britannica, and was therefore
very properly omitted in the new edition. He was not in the least
distinguished for genius or learning; his merely being a bishop could
give him no just pretensions, and still less the unnatural crime for
which he suffered. The friends of Bishop Atherton say that his
reputation was suspected to have been destroyed, and his catastrophe
effected, more by the contrivance of a party than by the aggravated
guilt with which he was charged. If this were perfectly just, which
however may be reasonably questioned, it would not give Bishop Atherton
the least claim to insertion in the Biographia Britannica. Aram was
inserted on account of his uncommon talents and learning; but Atherton,
who was not distinguished for either, never had the least pretension to
be recorded in such a work."
The talents and abilities of this criminal, therefore, seem to be
undoubted; but that a man possessing powers of intellect so great should
have been guilty of such a crime as that which he committed, seems most
extraordinary.
Within the second peculiarity of the case will very properly come the
narrative of the life of its hero, as well as the circumstances
attending the commission of the crime and the discovery of its
perpetrator. A succinct description of the case will probably be more
intelligible than a detail of all the exceedingly minute circumstances
by which it was surrounded.
Eugene Aram was born at the village of Netherdale, in Yorkshire, in the
year 1704, of an ancient and highly respectable family; but although it
is shown by the chronicles that one of his ancestors served the office
of high sheriff in the reign of Edward the Third, it appears that at the
time of the birth of Eugene, the vicissitudes of fortune had so far
reduced its rank, that his father was compelled to support himself and
his children by working as a gardener in the house of Sir Edward
Blackett; although in that situation he was well employed and highly
respected. In his infancy, Aram's parents removed to the village of
Shelton, near Newby, in the same county; and when about six years old,
his father, having saved a small sum of money out of his weekly
earnings, purchased a small cottage at Bondgate, near Rippon. The first
indications of that singular genius which afterwards displayed itself in
so remarkable a manner in our hero, were given while his father was in
the service of Sir Edward. Eugene was employed as an attendant upon that
gentleman, and he early displayed a taste for literature, which was
fostered and supported by his indulgent master. His disposition was
solitary, and every leisure hour which presented itself to him was
devoted to retirement and study; and in the employment which good
fortune had bestowed upon him, ample opportunities were afforded him of
following the bent of his inclinations. He applied himself chiefly to
mathematics, and at the age of sixteen he had acquired a considerable
proficiency in them; but his kind and indulgent master dying about this
time, he was employed by his brother, Mr. Christopher Blackett, a
merchant in London, who took him into his service as book-keeper. This
was an occupation ill suited to his desires, and an attack of the small
pox having rendered his return to Yorkshire necessary, he did not
afterwards resume his employment in London, but at the invitation of his
father he remained at Newby, to pursue his studies. He now found that
the study of mathematics possessed but few charms; and the politer
subjects of poetry, history, and antiquities, next engaged his
attention. Every day served to increase the store of knowledge which he
possessed, and his fame as a scholar having now extended to his native
place, he was invited to take charge of a school there. The means of
study and of profit appeared to him to be thus united, and he
immediately accepted the offer which was made; and after a short time he
married a young woman of the village, to whom he appeared tenderly
attached. To this marriage, however, which proved unhappy, he attributed
all his subsequent misfortunes; but whether with truth or not, the
course of the narrative does not distinctly disclose. His deficiency in
the learned languages now struck him, and he immediately set about
conquering the difficulties which presented themselves in this new field
of research; and so rapid was his progress, that ere a year had passed,
he was able to read with ease the less difficult of the Latin and Greek
historians and poets. In the year 1734 an opportunity was afforded him
of adding a knowledge of the Hebrew language to his list of
acquirements; for in that year Mr. William Norton, of Knaresborough, a
gentleman of great talents, who had conceived a strong attachment
towards him, invited him to his house, and afforded him the means
necessary for pursuing its study. He continued in his situation in
Yorkshire until the year 1745, when he again visited London, and
accepted an engagement in the school of the Rev. Mr. Plainblanc, in
Piccadilly, as usher in Latin and writing; and, with this gentleman's
assistance, he acquired the knowledge of the French language. He was
afterwards employed as an usher and tutor in several different parts of
England; in the course of which, through his own exertions, he became
acquainted with heraldry and botany; and so great was his perseverance,
that he also learned the Chaldaic and Arabic languages. His next step
was to investigate the Celtic in all its dialects; and, having begun to
form collections, and make comparisons between the Celtic, the English,
the Latin, the Greek, and the Hebrew, and found a great affinity between
them, he resolved to proceed through all those languages, and to form a
comparative lexicon. But, amid these learned labours and inquiries, it
appears that he committed a crime which could not naturally have been
expected from a man of so studious a turn, as the inducement which led
him to it was merely the gain of wealth, of which the scholar is seldom
covetous.
On the 8th of February 1745, in conjunction with a man named Richard
Houseman, he committed the murder for which his life was afterwards
forfeited to the laws of his country. The object of this diabolical
crime was Daniel Clarke, a shoemaker, living at Knaresborough; and it
appears that this unfortunate man, having lately married a woman of a
good family, industriously circulated a report that his wife was
entitled to a considerable fortune, which he should soon receive. Aram
and Houseman, in consequence, conceiving hopes of procuring some
advantage from this circumstance, persuaded Clarke to make an
ostentatious show of his own riches, in order to induce his wife's
relations to give him that fortune of which he had boasted. It is not
impossible that in giving their subsequent victim this advice, they may
at the time have acted from a spirit of friendship, and any intention
of committing that crime for which they afterwards received their
reward; but the belief that the design was already formed receives equal
confirmation from subsequent events.
Clarke, it seems, was easily induced to comply with a hint so agreeable
to his own desires; and he borrowed, and bought on credit, a large
quantity of silver plate, with jewels, watches, rings, &c. He told the
persons of whom he purchased, that a merchant in London had sent him an
order to buy such plate for exportation; and no doubt was entertained of
his credit till his sudden disappearance in February 1745, when it was
imagined that he had gone abroad, or at least to London, to dispose of
his ill-acquired property.
Whatever doubt may exist as to the original intention of the parties,
their object at this time is perfectly clear, and there can be no
hesitation in supposing that Aram and Houseman had at this time
determined to murder their dupe, in order to share the booty. On the
night of the 8th February 1745, they persuaded Clarke to take a walk
with them, in order to consult upon the proper method to dispose of the
effects; and, engaged in the discussion of this subject, they turned
into a field, at a small distance from the town, well known by the name
of St. Robert's Cave. On their arrival there, Aram and Clarke went over
a hedge towards the cave; and when they had got within six or seven
yards of it, Houseman (by the light of the moon) saw Aram strike Clarke
several times, and at length beheld him fall, but never saw him
afterwards. These were the facts immediately connected with the murder,
which were proved at the trial by Houseman, who was admitted King's
evidence; and, whatever were the subsequent proceedings of the parties
in respect of the body, they must remain a mystery.
The murderers, going home, shared Clarke's ill-gotten treasure, the half
of which Houseman concealed in his garden for a twelvemonth, and then
took it to Scotland, where he sold it. In the mean time Aram carried his
share to London, where he sold it to a Jew, and then returned to his
engagement with Mr. Plainblanc, in Piccadilly.
Fourteen years afterwards elapsed, and no tidings being received of
Aram, it was concluded that he was dead; and these fourteen years had
also elapsed without any clue being obtained to unravel the mystery of
the sudden disappearance of Clarke. The time at length came, however, at
which all the doubts which existed upon both subjects were to be solved.
In the year 1758, a labourer named Jones was employed to dig for stone
in St. Robert's Cave, in order to supply a limekiln at a place called
Thistle Hill, near Knaresborough; and having dug about two feet deep, he
found the bones of a human body, still knit together by the ligaments of
the joints. It had evidently been buried double; and there were
indications about it which could not but lead to the supposition that
some unfair means had been resorted to in order to deprive the living
being of life. The incident afforded good grounds for general curiosity
being raised, and general inquiry taking place; and hints were soon
thrown out that it might be the body of Clarke, whose unexpected
disappearance was still fresh in the memory of many, and whose continued
absence had been the subject of so much surprise. Suggestions of his
murder which had been thrown out by Aram's wife were called to mind, and
a coroner's inquest being held, she was summoned. By this time a general
impression prevailed that the remains found were those of Clarke, and
the testimony of Mrs. Aram greatly confirmed the idea which had gone
abroad. She deposed that she believed that Clarke had been murdered by
Houseman and her husband, and that they had acquired considerable booty
for the crime; but she was unable to give any account of her husband, or
to state whether he still was in existence or not. Inquiries being made,
however, Houseman was soon found; and on his being brought forward to be
examined, he exhibited the utmost confusion. The coroner desired that he
would take up one of the bones, probably with a view of seeing what
effect such a proceeding would produce; and upon his doing so, he showed
still further terror, and exclaimed, "This is no more Daniel Clarke's
bone than it is mine!" The suspicions which were already entertained of
his guilt were, in a great measure, confirmed by this observation; and
it was generally believed that he knew the precise spot where the real
remains of the murdered man were deposited, even if he had not been a
party to their interment. He was therefore strictly questioned; and
after many attempts at evasion, he said that Clarke was murdered by
Eugene Aram, and that his body was buried in St. Robert's Cave, but that
the head lay further to the right in the turn near the entrance of the
cavern than the spot where the skeleton produced was found. Search was
immediately made, and a skeleton was found in a situation corresponding
exactly with that which had been pointed out. In consequence of this
confession an inquiry was immediately set on foot for Aram, and after a
considerable time he was discovered, occupying the situation of usher in
a school at Lynn in Norfolk.
He was immediately apprehended and conveyed in custody to York Castle;
and on the 13th of August 1759, he was brought to trial at the assizes
before Mr. Justice Noel. The testimony of Houseman to the facts which we
have described, and of the other witnesses whose evidence was of a
corroborative character, was then adduced; and from the proof which was
given, it appeared that the share of plunder derived by the prisoner did
not exceed one hundred and fifty pounds.
Aram's defence was both ingenious and able, and would not have disgraced
any of the best lawyers of the day. It is a curious and interesting
address, and we subjoin it as affording the best criterion of the
talents of the prisoner which can well be adduced. He thus addressed the
court:--
"My Lord,--I know not whether it is of right or through some indulgence
of your lordship that I am allowed the liberty at this bar, and at this
time, to attempt a defence, incapable and uninstructed as I am to speak;
since, while I see so many eyes upon me, so numerous and awful a
concourse fixed with attention and filled with I know not what
expectancy, I labour not with guilt, my lord, but with perplexity; for
having never seen a court but this, being wholly unacquainted with law,
the customs of the bar, and all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be
so little capable of speaking with propriety in this place, that it
exceeds my hope if I shall be able to speak at all.
"I have heard, my lord, the indictment read, wherein I find myself
charged with the highest crime, with an enormity I am altogether
incapable of; a fact, to the commission of which there goes far more
insensibility of heart, more profligacy of morals, than ever fell to my
lot; and nothing possibly could have admitted a presumption of this
nature but a depravity not inferior to that imputed to me. However, as I
stand indicted at your lordship's bar, and have heard what is called
evidence adduced in support of such a charge, I very humbly solicit
your lordship's patience, and beg the hearing of this respectable
audience, while I, single and unskilful, destitute of friends and
unassisted by counsel, say something, perhaps like argument, in my
defence. I shall consume but little of your lordship's time: what I have
to say will be short; and this brevity, probably, will be the best part
of it: however, it is offered with all possible regard and the greatest
submission to your lordship's consideration, and that of this honourable
court.
"First, my lord, the whole tenor of my conduct in life contradicts every
particular of the indictment: yet had I never said this, did not my
present circumstances extort it from me, and seem to make it necessary.
Permit me here, my lord, to call upon malignity itself, so long and
cruelly busied in this prosecution, to charge upon me any immorality of
which prejudice was not the author. No, my lord, I concerted no schemes
of fraud, projected no violence, injured no man's person or property. My
days were honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious; and I humbly
conceive my notice of this, especially at this time, will not be thought
impertinent or unseasonable, but, at least, deserving some attention;
because, my lord, that any person, after a temperate use of life, a
series of thinking and acting regularly, and without one single
deviation from sobriety, should plunge into the very depth of profligacy
precipitately and at once, is altogether improbable and unprecedented,
and absolutely inconsistent with the course of things. Mankind is never
corrupted at once. Villany is always progressive, and declines from
right, step by step, till every regard of probity is lost, and every
sense of all moral obligation totally perishes.
"Again, my lord, a suspicion of this kind, which nothing but malevolence
could entertain and ignorance propagate, is violently opposed by my very
situation at that time with respect to health; for, but a little space
before, I had been confined to my bed, and suffered under a very long
and severe disorder, and was not able, for half a year together, so much
as to walk. The distemper left me indeed, yet slowly, and in part--but
so macerated, so enfeebled, that I was reduced to crutches; and so far
from being well about the time I am charged with this fact, I have
never, to this day, perfectly recovered. Could then a person in this
condition take anything into his head so unlikely, so extravagant?--I,
past the vigour of my age, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement
to engage, no ability to accomplish, no weapon wherewith to perpetrate
such a deed, without interest, without power, without motive, without
means. Besides, it must needs occur to every one, that an action of this
atrocious nature is never heard of, but when its springs are laid open.
It appears that it was to support some indolence, or supply some luxury;
to satisfy some avarice, or oblige some malice; to prevent some real or
some imaginary want: yet I lay not under the influence of these. Surely,
my lord, I may, consistently with both truth and modesty, affirm thus
much; and none who have any veracity and knew me, will ever question
this.
"In the second place, the disappearance of Clarke is suggested as an
argument of his being dead; but the uncertainty of such an inference
from that, and the fallibility of all conclusions of such a sort from
such a circumstance, are too obvious and too notorious to require
instances; yet superseding many, permit me to produce a very recent one,
and that afforded by this Castle.
"In June 1757, William Thompson, for all the vigilance of this place,
in open daylight and double-ironed, made his escape, and,
notwithstanding an immediate inquiry set on foot, the strictest search,
and all advertisement, was never heard of since. If, then, Thompson got
off unseen, through all these difficulties, how very easy it was for
Clarke, when none of them opposed him! But what would be thought of a
prosecution commenced against any one seen last with Thompson?
"Permit me next, my lord, to observe a little upon the bones which have
been discovered. It is said (which perhaps is saying very far) that
these are the skeleton of a man. It is possible, indeed, it may; but is
there any certain known criterion which incontestably distinguishes the
sex in human bones? Let it be considered, my lord, whether the
ascertaining of this point ought not to precede any attempt to identify
them?
"The place of their depositum, too, claims much more attention than is
commonly bestowed upon it; for of all places in the world, none could
have mentioned any one wherein there was greater certainty of finding
human bones than a hermitage, except he should point out a churchyard;
hermitages, in time past, being not only places of religious retirement,
but of burial too: and it has scarce or never been heard of, but that
every cell now known contains or contained these relics of humanity,
some mutilated and some entire. I do not inform, but give me leave to
remind your lordship, that here sat solitary Sanctity, and here the
hermit or the anchoress hoped that repose for their bones when dead they
here enjoyed when living.
"All the while, my lord, I am sensible this is known to your lordship,
and many in this Court, better than to me; but it seems necessary to my
case that others, who have not at all, perhaps, adverted to things of
this nature, and may have concern in my trial, should be made acquainted
with it. Suffer me then, my lord, to produce a few of many evidences
that these cells were used as repositories of the dead, and to enumerate
a few in which human bones have been found, as it happened in this
question; lest, to some, that accident might seem extraordinary, and,
consequently, occasion prejudice.
"1. The bones, as was supposed, of the Saxon saint, Dubritius, were
discovered buried in his cell at Guy's Cliff, near Warwick; as appears
from the authority of Sir William Dugdale.
"2. The bones thought to be those of the anchoress Rosia were but lately
discovered in a cell at Royston, entire, fair, and undecayed, though
they must have lain interred for several centuries; as is proved by Dr.
Stukely.
"3. But my own country--nay, almost this neighbourhood--supplies another
instance; for in January 1747, were found, by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by
a reverend gentleman, the bones, in part, of some recluse, in the cell
at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They were believed to be those of William of
Lindholm, a hermit, who had long made this cave his habitation.
"4. In February 1744, part of Woburn Abbey being pulled down, a large
portion of a corpse appeared, even with the flesh on, and which bore
cutting with a knife; though it is certain this had lain above two
hundred years, and how much longer is doubtful; for this abbey was
founded in 1145, and dissolved in 1538 or 1539.
"What would have been said, what believed, if this had been an accident
to the bones in question?
"Farther, my lord:--it is not yet out of living memory that at a little
distance from Knaresborough, in a field, part of the manor of the worthy
and patriot baronet who does that borough the honour to represent it in
parliament, were found, in digging for gravel, not one human skeleton
only, but five or six, deposited side by side, with each an urn placed
at its head, as your lordship knows was usual in ancient interments.
"About the same time, and in another field, almost close to this
borough, was discovered also, in searching for gravel, another human
skeleton; but the piety of the same worthy gentleman ordered both pits
to be filled up again, commendably unwilling to disturb the dead.
"Is the invention of these bones forgotten, then, or industriously
concealed, that the discovery of those in question may appear the more
singular and extraordinary? whereas, in fact, there is nothing
extraordinary in it. My lord, almost every place conceals such remains.
In fields, in hills, in highway sides, in commons, lie frequent and
unsuspected bones; and our present allotments for rest for the departed
are but of some centuries.
"Another particular seems not to claim a little of your lordship's
notice, and that of the gentlemen of the jury; which is, that perhaps no
example occurs of more than one skeleton being found in one cell: and in
the cell in question was found but one; agreeable, in this, to the
peculiarity of every other known cell in Britain. Not the invention of
one skeleton, but of two, would have appeared suspicious and uncommon.
But it seems another skeleton has been discovered by some labourer,
which was full as confidently averred to be Clarke's as this. My lord,
must some of the living, if it promotes some interest, be made
answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed and chance
exposed? and might not a place where bones lay be mentioned by a person
by chance as well as found by a labourer by chance? or is it more
criminal accidentally to name where bones lie than accidentally to find
where they lie?
"Here too is a human skull produced, which is fractured; but was this
the cause, or was it the consequence, of death? was it owing to
violence, or was it the effect of natural decay? If it was violence, was
that violence before or after death? My lord, in May 1732, the remains
of William, Lord Archbishop of this province, were taken up, by
permission, in this cathedral, and the bones of the skull were found
broken; yet certainly he died by no violence offered to him alive that
could occasion that fracture there.
"Let it be considered, my lord, that, upon the dissolution of religious
houses and the commencement of the Reformation, the ravages of those
times affected both the living and the dead. In search after imaginary
treasures, coffins were broken up, graves and vaults dug open, monuments
ransacked, and shrines demolished; and it ceased about the beginning of
the reign of Queen Elizabeth. I entreat your lordship, suffer not the
violence, the depredations, and the iniquities of those times, to be
imputed to this.
"Moreover, what gentleman here is ignorant that Knaresborough had a
castle, which, though now a ruin, was once considerable both for its
strength and garrison? All know it was vigorously besieged by the arms
of the parliament; at which siege, in sallies, conflicts, flights,
pursuits, many fell in all the places round it, and, where they fell,
were buried, for every place, my lord, is burial-earth in war; and
many, questionless, of these rest yet unknown, whose bones futurity
shall discover.
"I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what has been said will
not be thought impertinent to this indictment; and that it will be far
from the wisdom, the learning, and the integrity of this place, to
impute to the living what zeal in its fury may have done--what nature
may have taken off, and piety interred--or what war alone may have
destroyed, alone deposited.
"As to the circumstances that have been raked together, 1 have nothing
to observe but that all circumstances whatever are precarious, and have
been but too frequently found lamentably fallible; even the strongest
have failed. They may rise to the utmost degree of probability, yet they
are but probability still. Why need I name to your lordship the two
Harrisons recorded by Dr. Howel, who both suffered upon circumstances
because of the sudden disappearance of their lodger, who was in credit,
had contracted debts, borrowed money, and went off unseen, and returned
a great many years after their execution? Why name the intricate affair
of Jacques de Moulin, under King Charles II. related by a gentleman who
was counsel for the crown? And why the unhappy Coleman, who suffered
innocently, though convicted upon positive evidence; and whose children
perished for want, because the world uncharitably believed the father
guilty? Why mention the perjury of Smith, incautiously admitted king's
evidence: who, to screen himself, equally accused Faircloth and Loveday
of the murder of Dun; the first of whom, in 1749, was executed at
Winchester; and Loveday was about to suffer at Reading, had not Smith
been proved perjured, to the satisfaction of the Court, by the governor
of Gosport hospital?
"Now, my lord, having endeavoured to show that the whole of this process
is altogether repugnant to every part of my life; that it is
inconsistent with my condition of health about that time; that no
rational inference can be drawn that a person is dead who suddenly
disappears; that hermitages are the constant depositaries of the bones
of a recluse; that the proofs of this are well authenticated; that the
revolutions in religion, or the fortunes of war, have mangled or buried
the dead;--the conclusion remains, perhaps, no less reasonable than
impatiently wished for. I, at last, after a year's confinement, equal to
either fortune, put myself upon the justice, the candour, and the
humanity of your lordship; and upon yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of
the jury."
The delivery of this address created a very considerable impression in
court; but the learned judge having calmly and with great perspicuity
summed up the evidence which had been produced, and having observed upon
the prisoner's defence, which he declared to be one of the most
ingenious pieces of reasoning that had ever fallen under his notice, the
jury, with little hesitation, returned a verdict of Guilty. Sentence of
death was then passed upon the prisoner, who received the intimation of
his fate with becoming resignation. After his conviction, he confessed
the justice of his sentence to two clergymen who were directed to attend
him--a sufficient proof of the fruitlessness of the efforts to prove him
innocent, which the morbid sentimentality of late writers has induced
them to attempt. Upon an inquiry being made of him as to his reason for
committing the crime, he declared that he had reason to suspect Clarke
of having had unlawful intercourse with his wife; and that at the time
of his committing the murder he had thought that he was acting rightly,
but that he had since thought that his crime could not be justified or
excused. In the hopes of avoiding the ignominious death which he was
doomed to suffer, on the night before his execution he attempted to
commit suicide by cutting his arm in two places with a razor, which he
had concealed for that purpose. This attempt was not discovered until
the morning, when the jailor came to lead him forth to the place of
execution, and he was then found almost expiring from loss of blood. A
surgeon was immediately sent for, who found that he had wounded himself
severely on the left arm, above the elbow and near the wrist, but he had
missed the artery, and his life was prolonged only in order that it
might be taken away on the scaffold. When he was placed on the drop, he
was perfectly sensible, but was too weak to be able to join in devotion
with the clergyman who attended him He was executed at York on the 16th
August 1759; and his body was afterwards hung in chains in Knaresborough
Forest.
The following papers were afterwards found in his handwriting on the
table in his cell. The first contained reasons for his attempt upon his
life, and was as follows:--"What am I better than my fathers? To die is
natural and necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die
than I did to be born. But the manner of it is something which should,
in my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have regarded both these
points. Certainly no man has a better right to dispose of a man's life
than himself; and he, not others, should determine how. As for any
indignities offered to my body, or silly reflections on my faith and
morals, they are, as they always were, things indifferent to me. I
think, though contrary to the common way of thinking, I wrong no man by
this, and hope it is not offensive to that eternal Being that formed me
and the world: and as by this I injure no man, no man can be reasonably
offended. I solicitously recommend myself to that eternal and almighty
Being, the God of Nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have not;
and I hope this thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am now
stained by malevolence and suffer by prejudice, I hope to rise fair and
unblemished. My life was not polluted, my morals irreproachable, and my
opinions orthodox. I slept sound till three o'clock, awaked, and then
writ these lines--
Come, pleasing rest! eternal slumbers, fall!
Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all.
Calm and composed my soul her journey takes;
No guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches.
Adieu, thou sun! all bright, like her, arise!
Adieu, fair friends, and all that's good and wise!"
The second was in the form of a letter, addressed to a former companion,
and was in the following terms:
"MY DEAR FRIEND,--Before this reaches you, I shall be no more a living
man in this world, though at present in perfect bodily health: but who
can describe the horrors of mind which I suffer at this instant?
Guilt--the guilt of blood shed without any provocation, without any
cause but that of filthy lucre--pierces my conscience with wounds that
give the most poignant pains! 'Tis true the consciousness of my horrid
guilt has given me frequent interruptions in the midst of my business or
pleasures; but yet I have found means to stifle its clamours, and
contrived a momentary remedy for the disturbance it gave me by applying
to the bottle or the bowl, or diversions, or company, or business;
sometimes one, and sometimes the other, as opportunity offered: but now
all these, and all other amusements, are at an end, and I am left
forlorn, helpless, and destitute of every comfort; for I have nothing
now in view but the certain destruction both of my soul and body. My
conscience will now no longer suffer itself to be hoodwinked or
browbeat: it has now got the mastery; it is my accuser, judge, and
executioner: and the sentence it pronounceth against me is more dreadful
than that I heard from the bench, which only condemned my body to the
pains of death, which are soon over; but conscience tells me plainly
that she will summon me before another tribunal, where I shall have
neither power nor means to stifle the evidence she will there bring
against me; and that the sentence which will then be denounced will not
only be irreversible, but will condemn my soul to torments that will
know no end.
"Oh! had I but hearkened to the advice which dear-bought experience has
enabled me to give, I should not now have been plunged into that
dreadful gulf of despair which I find it impossible to extricate myself
from; and therefore my soul is filled with horror inconceivable. I see
both God and man my enemies, and in a few hours shall be exposed a
public spectacle for the world to gaze at. Can you conceive any
condition more horrible than mine? O, no! it cannot be! I am determined,
therefore, to put a short end to trouble I am no longer able to bear,
and prevent the executioner by doing his business with my own hand, and
shall by this means at least prevent the shame and disgrace of a public
exposure, and leave the care of my soul in the hands of eternal mercy.
Wishing you all health, happiness, and prosperity, I am, to the last
moment of my life, yours, with the sincerest regard,
"EUGENE ARAM."
It is impossible to view the circumstances of this remarkable case,
without being struck with the extraordinary conduct of Aram. It is most
singular that a man of his talents and mind should have leagued himself
with a person like Houseman, who appears to have been utterly
uneducated, in the commission of a murder, and with the hope only of
gain; for whatever his declarations after his conviction may have been,
as to his object being revenge only for the supposed injury which had
been done him by his victim in the seduction of his wife, his ready
acquiescence in the plot with another, and his willing acceptance of the
plunder which was obtained, distinctly show that that was not the only
end which he sought to attain. If, indeed, his feelings were outraged,
as he suggested, he would have selected some other mode of obtaining
that satisfaction to which the injury alleged would have entitled him;
and it is hardly to be supposed that he would have obtained the
assistance of another to secure the object which he had in view, more
particularly when it appears that it was he who absolutely committed the
foul act, without the immediate aid of Houseman,--a circumstance which
clearly exemplifies the power which he possessed to dispose of his
victim, and which would seem to show a desire on his part only to obtain
the participation of another in a preconceived act, anticipating
doubtless that some aid would be necessary in appropriating and
disposing of the property which might be procured from the deceased, and
also that some advice would be requisite in the event of suspicion
attaching to him. But while these circumstances cannot but surprise us,
how much more astonishing is the Divine power of Providence, which
disclosed to human eyes, after so long a lapse of time, such evidence as
in the result proved the commission of the crime, and which secured the
seizure of the criminal, who had up to that time remained unsuspected,
and who even then was living in fancied security, free from all fear of
discovery and apprehension! It is said that
"--- Murder! though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ:"
and how truly is this observation of the most wonderful of poets
exemplified by nearly every page of these records of crime!
WILLIAM ANDREW HORNE, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The short notice which we give of this man exhibits a human being
reduced far below the level of a beast.
The subject of the memoir was the eldest son of a gentleman of fortune
in Nottinghamshire, who in vain strove to instil into the mind of his
son any of those principles of rectitude, without which man cannot be
considered to be humanised. The sports of the field, and all the
dissipation which a country squire could at that time obtain, formed the
amusements of this reckless youth. His passion for women was unbounded;
but his love of gold surpassed all the other bad qualities which so
peculiarly distinguished him. It was while his father yet lived that he
committed that crime for which his life was eventually forfeited; and it
appears to have occurred in the following manner:--
His passion for women led him to commit the most disgusting excesses;
and at length so far had he carried his crimes, that an incestuous
connexion took place between him and his sister, the result of which was
the birth of a boy in the month of February 1724; Home told his brother
Charles of the circumstance three days afterwards, and at ten o'clock at
night said that he must take a ride with him. He then put the new-born
infant in a bag; and, mounting their horses, they rode to Annesley, in
Nottinghamshire, at the distance of five miles, carrying the child
alternately. On their arrival near the village, William dismounted and
inquired if the child was living; and being answered in the affirmative,
he took it and told his brother to wait till he came back. On his
return, Charles demanded to know how he had disposed of the infant; to
which he said that he had placed it behind a hay-stack, and covered it
with hay.
They then returned home; and it was afterwards learned that the child
died in the course of the night from exposure to the cold; but in a
short time afterwards a quarrel arising between the brothers, the whole
transaction was communicated by Charles to his father. The latter
enjoined him to the strictest secrecy; and this injunction was obeyed up
to the time of the old man's death, which occurred in the year 1747, in
the 102nd year of his age. The real estate of the family, being
entailed, then descended to the eldest son; but the father had
previously made over his personal property by deed of gift to his son
Charles. No sooner had the new squire assumed the government of the
estate than he behaved with the utmost severity towards his brother as
well as his tenants; and at length the former, rendered miserable by his
participation in the horrid act, having some business to transact with
Mr. Cooke, an attorney at Derby, told him of the long-concealed affair,
and asked his advice. The lawyer told him to go to a justice of the
peace and make a full discovery of the whole transaction; and he
accordingly went to a magistrate, and acquainted him with what had
happened. He hesitated to take cognizance of the matter, however, saying
that it might hang half the family; and as it had passed so many years
ago, advised that it might remain a secret.
No further notice of the circumstance was then taken until the year
1754, when Charles being suddenly seized with a severe fit of illness,
called in a Mr. White of Ripley, to whom, in anticipation of his death,
he disclosed all that had occurred. Mr. White declined to interfere; but
his patient almost immediately recovered, declaring that "he had been
better ever since the weight of the transaction had been taken off his
mind by his making the disclosure."
The discovery, however, soon became a matter of notoriety; and William
Home having a quarrel with a publican named Roe, the latter called him
"an incestuous old dog." A suit in the Ecclesiastical Court at Lichfield
was the consequence; and Roe being unsuccessful, was ordered to pay all
the costs. This circumstance inflamed him with revenge; and having made
such inquiries as persuaded him of the truth of the report which he had
heard, he procured a warrant to be issued for the apprehension of his
late opponent. A constable of Annesley and he in consequence proceeded
to the house of the squire at about eight o'clock in the evening, and
after having experienced considerable difficulty, succeeded in obtaining
admittance. A strict search was then commenced; but it was not until a
long time had elapsed that they discovered the object of their inquiry
concealed in a large box, which had been described as containing clean
linen. He was immediately carried before two justices, who committed him
to take his trial at the following assizes.
On the 10th of August 1759, he was brought to trial before Lord Chief
Baron Parker; and after a hearing of about nine hours, the jury found
him guilty, and sentence of death passed of course.
Horne being convicted on a Saturday, was sentenced to die on the Monday
following; but a number of gentlemen waited on the judge, intimating
that he had been so long hardened in iniquity, that a farther time would
be necessary to prepare him for his awful change, and a respite of a
month was in consequence granted.
When this time was nearly expired, he received a reprieve during his
majesty's pleasure; so that he began to entertain hopes of obtaining a
free pardon: and he employed a considerable part of his time in writing
to his friends to make interest to secure this object. He, however,
confessed the justice of his conviction, but seemed little affected by
the enormity of his crime, and frequently said, "it was d--d hard to
suffer on the evidence of a brother for a crime committed so many years
before."
He gave the following account of the transaction:--He said he had no
design of destroying the infant, but put it in a bag lined with wool,
and made a hole in the bag that it might not be stifled. He added, that
the child was handsomely dressed, and he had intended to have left it at
the door of Mr. Chaworth, of Annesley; but the dogs barking, and there
being a light in the house, he desisted from his first intention, in
the fear of a discovery. After some hesitation, he said, he resolved to
place it under a warm hay-stack, in the hope that, when the servants
came to fodder the cattle in the morning, it would be found.
He acknowledged to a clergyman who assisted him in his devotions that he
forgave all his enemies, even his brother Charles; but made the
following strange addition to his speech: "that if, at the day of
judgment, God Almighty should ask him how his brother behaved, he would
not give him a good character."
The hopes of a pardon which he had entertained soon proved unfounded;
and an order arrived for his execution on the 11th December 1759, on
which day he completed his 74th year, and terminated his life on a
scaffold erected at Nottingham.
LAURENCE, EARL FERRERS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
Laurence, Earl Ferrers, was a man of singular and most unhappy
disposition. Descended of an ancient and noble family, he was doomed to
expiate a crime, of which he had been guilty, at Tyburn.
It would appear that the royal blood of the Plantagenets flowed in his
veins, and the earl gained his title in the following manner:--The
second baronet of the family, Sir Henry Shirley, married a daughter of
the celebrated Earl of Essex, who was beheaded in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth; and his son, Sir Robert Shirley, died in the Tower, where he
was confined during the Protectorate, for his attachment to the cause of
the Stuarts. Upon the Restoration, the second son of Sir Robert
succeeded to the title and estates; and Charles, anxious to cement the
bonds which attached his friends to him, summoned him to the Upper House
of Parliament by the title of Lord Ferrers of Chartley, as the
descendant of one of the co-heiresses of the Earl of Essex; the title,
which had existed since the reign of Edward III., having been in
abeyance since the death of that unfortunate nobleman. In the year 1711,
Robert, Lord Ferrers, was created by Queen Anne, Viscount Tamworth and
Earl Ferrers; and it appears that although the estates of the family
were very great, they were vastly diminished by the provisions which the
Earl thought proper to make for his numerous progeny, consisting of
fifteen sons and twelve daughters, born to him by his two wives. At the
death of the first earl, his title descended to his second son; but he
dying without issue, it went in succession to the ninth son, who was
childless, and the tenth son, who was the father of the earl, Laurence,
the subject of the present sketch.
This nobleman was united in the year 1752 to the youngest daughter of
Sir William Meredith; but although his general conduct when sober was
not such as to be remarkable, yet his faculties were so much impaired by
drink, that when under the influence of intoxication, he acted with all
the wildness and brutality of a madman. For a time his wife perceived
nothing which induced her to repent the step she had taken in being
united to him; but he subsequently behaved to her with such
unwarrantable cruelty, that she was compelled to quit his protection,
and rejoining her father's family, to apply to Parliament for redress.
An act was in consequence passed, allowing her a separate maintenance
to be raised out of her husband's estate; and trustees being appointed,
the unfortunate Mr. Johnson, who fell a sacrifice to the ungovernable
passions of Lord Ferrers, having been bred up in the family from his
youth, and being distinguished for the regular manner in which he kept
his accounts, and his fidelity as a steward, was proposed as receiver of
the rents for her use. He at first declined the office; but
subsequently, at the desire of the Earl himself, he consented to act,
and continued in this employment for a considerable time.
His lordship at this time lived at Stanton, a seat about two miles from
Ashby de la Zouch, in Leicestershire; and his family consisted of Mrs.
Clifford, a lady who lived with him, and her four natural daughters,
besides five men-servants, exclusive of an old man and a boy, and three
maids.
Mr. Johnson lived at the house belonging to the farm, which he held
under his lordship, called the Lount, about half a mile distant from
Stanton. It appears that it was his custom to visit his noble master
occasionally, to settle the accounts which were placed under his care;
but his lordship gradually conceived a dislike for him, grounded upon
the prejudice raised in his mind on account of his being the receiver of
the countess' portion, and charged him with having combined with the
trustees to prevent his receiving a coal contract. From this time he
spoke of him in opprobrious terms, and said he had conspired with his
enemies to injure him, and that he was a villain; and with these
sentiments he gave him warning to quit an advantageous farm which he
held under his lordship. Finding, however, that the trustees under the
act of separation had already granted him a lease of it, it having been
promised to him by the earl or his relations, he was disappointed, and
probably from that time he meditated a more cruel revenge.
The circumstances immediately attending the transaction, which
terminated in the death of Johnson, are as follow:--
On Sunday the 13th of January 1760, my lord went to the Lount, and after
some discourse with Mr. Johnson, ordered him to come to him at Stanton
on the Friday following, the 18th, at three o'clock in the afternoon.
His lordship's usual dinner-hour was two o'clock; and soon after that
meal was disposed of, on the Friday, he went to Mrs. Clifford, who was
in the still-house, and desired her to take the children for a walk. She
accordingly prepared herself and her daughters, and with the permission
of the earl went to her father's, at a short distance, being directed to
return at half-past five. The men-servants were next despatched on
errands by their master, who was thus left in the house with the three
females only. In a short time afterwards Mr. Johnson came according to
his appointment, and was admitted by one of the maid-servants, named
Elizabeth Burgeland. He proceeded at once to his lordship's apartment,
but was desired to wait in the still-house; and then, after the
expiration of about ten minutes, the earl calling him into his own room,
went in with him and locked the door. Being thus together, the earl
required him first to settle an account, and then charging him with the
villany which he attributed to him, ordered him to kneel down. The
unfortunate man went down on one knee; upon which the earl, in a tone of
voice loud enough to be heard by the maid-servants without, cried, "Down
on your other knee; declare that you have acted against Lord Ferrers;
your time is come--you must die:" and then suddenly drawing a pistol
from his pocket, which was loaded, he
[Illustration: _Lord Ferrers shooting his Steward._]
presented it and immediately fired. The ball entered the body of the
unfortunate man; but he rose up, and entreated that no farther violence
might be done him; and the female servants at that time coming to the
door, being alarmed by the report, his lordship quitted the room. A
messenger was immediately despatched for Mr. Kirkland, a surgeon, who
lived at Ashby de la Zouch; and Johnson being put to bed, his lordship
went to him and asked him how he felt? He answered that he was dying,
and desired that his family might be sent for. Miss Johnson soon after
arrived, and Lord Ferrers immediately followed her into the room where
her father lay. He then pulled down the clothes, and applied a pledget,
dipped in arquebusade water, to the wound, and soon after left him.
From this time it appears that his lordship applied himself to his
favourite amusement, drinking, until he became exceedingly violent (for
at the time of the commission of the murder he is reported to have been
sober), and on the arrival of Mr. Kirkland he told him that he had shot
Johnson, but believed he was more frightened than hurt; that he had
intended to shoot him dead, for that he was a villain and deserved to
die; "but," said he, "now I have spared his life, I desire you would do
what you can for him." His lordship at the same time desired that he
would not suffer him to be seized, and declared, that if any one should
attempt it, he would shoot him. Mr. Kirkland, who wisely determined to
say whatever might keep Lord Ferrers from any further outrages, told him
that he should not be seized, and directly went to the wounded man.
The patient complained of a violent pain in his bowels; and Mr. Kirkland
preparing to search the wound, my lord informed him of the direction of
it, by showing him how he held the pistol when he fired it. Mr. Kirkland
found the ball had lodged in the body; at which his lordship expressed
great surprise, declaring that he had tried that pistol a few days
before, and that it then carried a ball through a deal board near an
inch and a half thick. Mr. Kirkland then went down stairs to prepare
some dressings, and my lord soon after left the room. From this time, in
proportion as the liquor which he continued to drink took effect, his
passions became more tumultuous, and the transient fit of compassion,
mixed with fear for himself, which had excited him, gave way to starts
of rage and the predominance of malice. He went up into the room where
Johnson was dying, and pulled him by the wig, calling him villain, and
threatening to shoot him through the head; and the last time he went to
him he was with great difficulty prevented from tearing the clothes off
the bed, that he might strike him.
A proposal was made to him in the evening by Mrs. Clifford, that Mr.
Johnson should be removed to his own house; but he replied, "He shall
not be removed; I will keep him here to plague the villain." He
afterwards spoke to Miss Johnson about her father, and told her that if
he died, he would take care of her and of the family, provided they did
not prosecute.
When his lordship went to bed, which was between eleven and twelve, he
told Mr. Kirkland that he knew he could, if he would, set the affair in
such a light as to prevent his being seized, desiring that he might see
him before he went away in the morning, and declaring that he would rise
at any hour.
Mr. Kirkland, however, was very solicitous to get Mr. Johnson removed;
and as soon as the earl was gone, he set about carrying his object into
effect. He in consequence went to Lount, and having fitted up an
easy-chair with poles, by way of a sedan, and procured a guard, he
returned at about two o'clock, and carried Mr. Johnson to his house,
where he expired at about nine o'clock on the following morning.
The neighbours now began to take measures to secure the murderer, and a
few of them having armed themselves, set out for Stanton; and as they
entered the yard, they saw his lordship, partly undressed, going towards
the stable, as if to take out a horse. One of them, named Springthorpe,
then advancing towards his lordship with a pistol in his hand, required
him to surrender; but the latter, putting his hand towards his pocket,
his assailant, imagining that he was feeling for some weapon of offence,
stopped short and allowed him to escape into the house. A great
concourse of people by this time had come to the spot, and they cried
out loudly that the earl should come forth. Two hours elapsed, however,
before anything was seen of him, and then he came to the garret window
and called out, "How is Johnson?" He was answered that he was dead; but
he said it was a lie, and desired that the people should disperse; but
then he gave orders that they should be let in and be furnished with
victuals and drink, and finally he went away from the window swearing
that no man should take him. The mob still remained on the spot, and in
about two hours the earl was descried by a collier, named Curtis,
walking on the bowling-green, armed with a blunderbuss, a brace of
pistols, and a dagger. Curtis, however, so far from being intimidated by
his bold appearance, walked up to him; and his lordship, struck with the
resolution he displayed, immediately surrendered himself, and gave up
his arms, but directly afterwards declared that he had killed the
villain, and gloried in the act. He was instantly conveyed in custody to
a public-house at Ashby, kept by a man named Kinsey; and a coroner's
jury having brought in a verdict of wilful murder against him, he was on
the following Monday committed to the custody of the keeper of the jail
at Leicester. Being entitled, however, by his rank to be tried before
his peers, he was in about a fortnight afterwards conveyed to London, in
his landau, drawn by six horses, under a strong guard; and being carried
before the House of Lords, he was committed to the custody of the Black
Rod, and ordered to the Tower, where he arrived at about six o'clock in
the evening of the 14th February. He is reported to have behaved, during
the whole journey and at his commitment, with great calmness and
propriety. He was confined in the Round Tower, near the drawbridge: two
wardens were constantly in the room with him, and one at the door; two
sentinels were posted at the bottom of the stairs, and one upon the
drawbridge, with their bayonets fixed; and from this time the gates were
ordered to be shut an hour sooner than usual.
During his confinement he was moderate both in eating and drinking; his
breakfast was a half-pint basin of tea, with a small spoonful of brandy
in it, and a muffin; with his dinner he generally drank a pint of wine
and a pint of water, and another pint of each with his supper. In
general his behaviour was decent and quiet, except that he would
sometimes suddenly start, tear open his waistcoat, and use other
gestures, which showed that his mind was disturbed.
Mrs. Clifford and the four young ladies, who had come up with him from
Leicestershire, took a lodging in Tower-street, and for some time a
servant was continually passing with letters between them: but
afterwards this correspondence was permitted only once a day.
Mrs. Clifford came three times to the Tower to see him, but was not
admitted; but his children were suffered to be with him some time.
On the 16th of April, having been a prisoner in the Tower two months and
two days, he was brought to his trial, which continued till the 18th,
before the House of Lords, assembled for that purpose; Lord Henley,
keeper of the great seal, having been created lord high steward upon the
occasion.
The murder was easily proved to have been committed in the manner we
have described; and his lordship then proceeded to enter upon his
defence.
He called several witnesses, the object of whose testimony was to show
that the earl was not of sound mind, but none of them proved such an
insanity as made him not accountable for his conduct. His lordship
managed his defence himself, in such a manner as showed an uncommon
understanding; he mentioned the fact of his being reduced to the
necessity of attempting to prove himself a lunatic, that he might not be
deemed a murderer, with the most delicate and affecting sensibility;
and, when he found that his plea could not avail him, he confessed that
he made it only to gratify his friends; that he was always averse to it
himself; and that it had prevented what he had proposed, and what
perhaps might have taken off the malignity at least of the accusation.
The peers having in the usual form delivered their verdict of Guilty,
his lordship received sentence to be hanged on Monday the 21st of April,
and then to be anatomized; but, in consideration of his rank, the
execution of this sentence was respited till Monday the 5th of May.
During this interval he made a will, by which he left one thousand three
hundred pounds to Mr. Johnson's children; one thousand pounds to each of
his four natural daughters; and sixty pounds a year to Mrs. Clifford for
her life; but this disposition of his property being made after his
conviction, was not valid; although it was said that the same, or nearly
the same provision was afterwards made for the parties named.
In the mean time a scaffold was erected under the gallows at Tyburn, and
part of it, about a yard square, was raised about eighteen inches above
the rest of the floor, with a contrivance to sink down upon a signal
given, in accordance with the plan now invariably adopted; the whole
being covered with black baize.
On the morning of the 5th May, at about nine o'clock, his lordship's
body was demanded of the keeper of the Tower, by the sheriffs of London
and Middlesex, and his lordship being informed of it, sent a message to
the sheriffs requesting that he might be permitted to be conveyed to the
scaffold in his own landau, in preference to the mourning-coach which
was provided for him. This being granted, his landau, drawn by six
horses, immediately drew up, and he entered it, accompanied by Mr.
Humphries, the chaplain of the Tower, who had been admitted to him on
that morning for the first time. On the carriage reaching the outer
gate, the earl was delivered up to the sheriffs, and Mr. Sheriff
Vaillant entered the vehicle with him, expressing his concern at having
so melancholy a duty to perform; but his lordship said "he was much
obliged to him, and took it kindly that he accompanied him." The earl
was attired in a white suit, richly embroidered with silver; and when he
put it on he said, "This is the suit in which I was married, and in
which I will die." The procession being now formed, moved forward
slowly, the landau being preceded by a considerable body of horse
grenadiers, and by a carriage containing Mr. Sheriff Errington, and his
under sheriff, Mr. Jackson, and being followed by the carriage of Mr.
Sheriff Vaillant, containing Mr. Nichols, his under sheriff, a
mourning-coach and six, containing some of his lordship's friends, a
hearse and six for the conveyance of his body to Surgeon's Hall after
execution, and another body of military. The pace at which they
proceeded, in consequence of the density of the mob, was so slow, that
his lordship was two hours and three quarters in his landau, but during
that time he appeared perfectly easy and composed, though he often
expressed his anxiety to have the whole affair over, saying "that the
apparatus of death, and the passing through such crowds, were worse than
death itself," and "that he supposed so large a mob had been collected
because the people had never seen a lord hanged before," He told the
sheriff that "he had written to the king to beg that he might suffer
where his ancestor, the Earl of Essex, had been executed; and that he
was in the greater hopes of obtaining that favour, as he had the honour
of quartering part of the same arms, and of being allied to his majesty;
but that he had refused, and he thought it hard that he must die at the
place appointed for the execution of common felons."
Mr. Humphries took occasion to observe, that the world would naturally
be very inquisitive concerning the religion his lordship professed, and
asked him if he chose to say anything upon that subject; and his
lordship answered that he did not think himself accountable to the world
for his sentiments on religion; but that he had always believed in and
adored one God, the maker of all things; that whatever his notions were,
he had never propagated them, or endeavoured to gain any persons over to
his persuasion; that all countries and nations had a form of religion by
which the people were governed, and that he looked upon any one who
disturbed them in it as an enemy to society. That he blamed very much my
Lord Bolingbroke for permitting his sentiments on religion to be
published to the world. That he never could believe what some sectaries
teach, that faith alone will save mankind; so that if a man, just before
he dies, should say only "I believe," _that_ alone will save him.
As to the crime for which he suffered, he declared "that he was under
particular circumstances--that he had met with so many crosses and
vexations, he scarce knew what he did:" and he most solemnly protested
"that he had not the least malice against Mr. Johnson."
When his lordship had got to that part of Holborn which is near
Drury-lane, he said "he was thirsty, and should be glad of a glass of
wine and water;" upon which the sheriffs remonstrating to him, "that a
stop for that purpose would necessarily draw a greater crowd about him,
which night possibly disturb and incommode him, yet, if his lordship
still desired it, it should be done," he most readily answered, "That's
true--I say no more--let us by no means stop."
When they approached near the place of execution, his lordship, pointing
to Mrs. Clifford, told the sheriff "that there was a person waiting in a
coach near there, for whom he had a very sincere regard, and of whom he
should be glad to take his leave before he died." The sheriff answered
that, "if his lordship insisted upon it, it should be so; but that he
wished his lordship, for his own sake, would decline it, lest the sight
of a person, for whom he had such a regard, should unman him, and disarm
him of the fortitude he possessed." His lordship, without the least
hesitation, replied, "Sir, if you think I am wrong, I submit:" and upon
the sheriff telling his lordship that if he had anything to deliver to
the individual referred to, or any one else, he would faithfully do it,
his lordship delivered to him a pocket-book, in which were a bank-note
and a ring, and a purse with some guineas, which were afterwards handed
over to the unhappy woman.
The landau being now advanced to the place of execution, his lordship
alighted from it, and ascended the scaffold with the same composure and
fortitude of mind he had exhibited from the time he left the Tower. Soon
after he had mounted the scaffold, Mr. Humphries asked his lordship if
he chose to say prayers, which he declined; but, upon his asking him "if
he did not choose to join with him in the Lord's Prayer," he readily
answered "he would, for he always thought it a very fine prayer;" upon
which they knelt down together upon two cushions, covered with black
baize and his lordship, with an audible voice, very devoutly repeated
the Lord's Prayer, and afterwards, with great energy, ejaculated, "O
God, forgive me all my errors--pardon all my sins!"
His lordship, then rising, took his leave of the sheriff and the
chaplain; and, after thanking them for their many civilities, presented
his watch to Mr. Sheriff Vaillant, of which he desired his acceptance;
and requested that his body might be buried at Breden or Stanton, in
Leicestershire.
The executioner now proceeded to do his duty, to which his lordship,
with great resignation, submitted. His neckcloth being taken off, a
white cap, which he had brought in his pocket, being put upon his head,
his arms secured by a black sash, and the cord put round his neck, he
advanced by three steps to the elevated part of the scaffold, and,
standing under the cross-beam which went over it, which was also covered
with black baize, he asked the executioner "Am I right?" Then the cap
was drawn over his face, and, upon a signal given by the sheriff, (for
his lordship, upon being before asked, declined to give one himself,)
that part upon which he stood instantly sunk down from beneath his feet,
and he was launched into eternity May the 5th 1760.
From the time of his lordship's ascending upon the scaffold, until his
execution, was about eight minutes; during which his countenance did not
change, nor his tongue falter.
The accustomed time of one hour being past, the coffin was raised up,
with the greatest decency, to receive the body; and, being deposited in
the hearse, was conveyed by the sheriffs, with the same procession, to
Surgeons' Hall, to undergo the remainder of the sentence. A large
incision was then made from the neck to the bottom of the breast, and
another across the throat; the lower part of the belly was laid open,
and the bowels taken away. It was afterwards publicly exposed to view in
a room up one pair of stairs at the Hall; and on the evening of
Thursday, the 8th of May, it was delivered to his friends for interment.
The following verse is said to have been found in his apartment:--
"In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,
Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,
And, undismay'd, expect eternity."
THEODORE GARDELLE.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This delinquent was a native of Geneva; and besides being a man of good
general education, was somewhat celebrated in his native city as a
painter on enamel. Unhappy in his domestic concerns, in the year 1760 he
repaired to London, and took lodgings in the house of a Mrs. King, who
lived in Leicester-fields, and who was the unfortunate subject of his
crime.
The circumstances attending the murder were as follow:--On Thursday,
19th February 1761, the servant-girl got up at about seven o'clock in
the morning, and being presently called by Gardelle, who occupied an
upper apartment, was desired to go on some errands for him.
The girl took the messages, and went to her mistress, who was still in
her bedroom, which was the back parlour, telling her what Gardelle had
desired her to do; to which her mistress replied, "Nanny, you can't go,
for there's nobody to answer at the street door." The girl being willing
to oblige Gardelle, answered "that Mr. Gardelle would come down, and sit
in the parlour until she came back;" and she then went again to
Gardelle, who, in obedience to her wish, proceeded into the front room
on the ground floor.
The girl went out, taking the key of the street-door with her to let
herself in again, Gardelle then having entered the room next to Mrs.
King's apartment.
Immediately after she was gone out, Mrs. King, hearing the tread of
somebody in the parlour, called out, "Who is there?" and at the same
time opened her chamber door, and saw Gardelle at a table very near the
door, who had just then taken up a book that lay upon it. He had some
time before drawn Mrs. King's picture, which she wanted to have made
very handsome, and had teased him so much about it, that the effect was
just contrary; and it happened unfortunately, that the first thing she
said to him, when she saw him walking about in the room, was something
reproachful about this picture. Provoked at the insult, as he spoke
English very imperfectly, for want of a better expression, he told her,
with some warmth, "that she was an impertinent woman."
The detail of the whole of the circumstances immediately attending this
part of the transaction of necessity could not fall within the knowledge
or observation of any witness, and it is therefore derived from a
statement drawn up by Gardelle while in custody; but having stated the
facts already mentioned, he says that this insult threw Mrs. King into a
transport of rage, and she gave him a blow with her fist on the breast,
so violent that he could not have thought it could have been given by a
woman. As soon as the blow was struck she drew a little back; and at the
same instant he laid his hand on her shoulder, and pushed her from him,
rather in contempt than anger, or with a design to hurt her; but her
foot happening to catch in the floor-cloth, she fell backwards, and her
head came with great force against the corner of the bedstead. The blood
immediately gushed from her mouth, not in a continued stream, but as if
by different strokes of a pump, and he instantly ran to her, expressing
his concern at the accident; but she pushed him away, and threatened,
though in a feeble and interrupted voice, to punish him for what he had
done. He was terrified at the thought of being condemned for a criminal
act upon her accusation, and again attempted to assist her by raising
her up, as the blood still flowed from her mouth in great quantities;
but she exerted all her strength to keep him off, and still cried out,
mixing threats with her screams. He then seized an ivory comb, with a
sharp taper point continued from the back for adjusting the curls of her
hair, which lay upon her toilet, and threatened her in his turn to
prevent her crying out; but she still continuing to scream, though with
a voice still fainter and fainter, he struck her with this instrument,
probably in the throat, upon which the blood poured from her mouth in
yet greater quantities, and her voice was quite stopped. He then drew
the bed-clothes over her to prevent her blood from spreading on the
floor, and to hide her from his sight; and he stood some time motionless
by her, and then fell down by her side in a swoon. When he came to
himself he perceived the maid was come in, and he therefore went out of
the room without examining the body to see if the unhappy woman was
quite dead; and his confusion was then so great that he staggered
against the wainscot, and hit his head so as to raise a bump over his
eye.
It appears that he subsequently sent the girl away, informing her that
he had her mistress's orders to dismiss her, and paid ten shillings for
her wages; and the latter having been unable to find either her mistress
or Gardelle on her first returning to the house, and knowing the former
to be a woman of light character, concluded that they must have been in
bed together, and that her mistress being ashamed to meet her,
determined to get rid of her. Her suspicions were not at all raised
therefore, and she went away, informing Gardelle that Mr. Wright, who
lodged in the house, but had been out of town, would return that evening
with his servant. On her departure, the first thing that Gardelle did
was to go into the chamber to Mrs. King, whom, upon examination, he
found quite dead. He therefore took off the blankets and sheets with
which he had covered her, stripped off the shift, and laid the body
quite naked upon the bed. Before this, he said, his linen was not
stained; but it was much discoloured by his removing the body. He then
took the two blankets, the sheets, the coverlet, and one of the
curtains, and put them into the water-tub in the back wash-house to
soak, they being all much stained with blood. Her shift he carried up
stairs, and putting it into a bag, concealed it under his bed. His own
shirt, now bloody, he pulled off, and locked it up in a drawer of his
bureau.
When all this was done, he went and sat down in the parlour, and soon
after, it being about nine o'clock, Mr. Wright's servant, whose name was
Pelsey, came in without his master, who had changed his mind, and was
gone to a gentleman's house in Castle-street. He went up into his room,
the garret, and sat there till about eleven o'clock, when he came down,
and finding Gardelle still in the parlour, he asked if Mrs. King was
come home, and who must sit up for her? Gardelle said she was not come
home, but that he would sit up for her. In the morning, Friday, when
Pelsey came down stairs, he again asked if Mrs. King was come home, and
Gardelle told him that she had been at home, but was gone again; and he
subsequently said that she was gone to Bath or Bristol. The demeanour of
Gardelle was soon observed by Pelsey to be much changed, and fancying
that it was in consequence of the absence of Mrs. King, he went into the
Haymarket, and procured a girl of unfortunate character named Walker to
go and stay in the house with him. A Mrs. Pritchard was also engaged as
charwoman, and still, no suspicions being entertained, all the parties
continued to live in the house. On the Saturday morning, Gardelle first
took steps to dispose of the body of the deceased woman, and no plan
struck him as being so readily to be carried out as that of a gradual
destruction of its members by fire. He accordingly proceeded to light a
fire in the garret, whither he carried the bones, from which he had
previously scraped the flesh, and burned them. All went on well until
the Tuesday morning, when Pelsey, who was going up to his master's room,
smelt something offensive, and asked Gardelle, who was pushing up the
sash of the window on the staircase, what it was? Gardelle replied,
somebody had put a bone in the fire. At night Pelsey renewed his
inquiries after Mrs. King, and Gardelle answered, with a seeming
impatience, "Me know not of Mrs. King; she give me a great deal of
trouble, but me shall hear of her on Wednesday or Thursday."
On Tuesday night he told Walker he would sit up till Mrs. King came
home, though he had before told her she was out of town, and desired her
to go to bed; and as soon as she was gone, he renewed his horrid
employment of cutting the body to pieces, and disposing of it in
different places. The bowels he threw down the necessary; and the flesh
of the body and limbs, cut to pieces, he scattered about in the
cock-loft, where he supposed they would dry and perish without
putrefaction.
Wednesday passed like the preceding days; and on Thursday he told his
female companion that he expected Mrs. King home in the evening, and
therefore desired that she would provide herself a lodging, giving her
at the same time two of Mrs. King's shifts; and being thus dismissed,
she went away.
Pritchard, the charwoman, still continued in her office, and through her
means the murder was discovered. The water having failed in the cistern
on the Tuesday, she had recourse to that in the water-tub in the back
kitchen. Upon pulling out the spigot a little water ran out; but, as
there appeared to be more in, she got upon a ledge, and putting her hand
in, she felt something soft. She then fetched a poker, and pressing down
the contents of the tub, she got water in a pail. She informed Pelsey of
the circumstance, and they agreed the first opportunity to see what the
things in the water-tub were; yet so languid was their curiosity, and so
careless were they of the event, that it was Thursday before the tub was
examined. They found in it the blankets, sheets, and coverlet, that
Gardelle had put in to soak; and after spreading, shaking, and looking
at them, they put them again into the tub; and the next morning, when
Pelsey came down, he saw the curtain hanging on the banisters of the
kitchen stairs. Upon looking down, he saw Gardelle just come out at the
wash-house door, where the tub stood. When Pritchard the charwoman came,
he asked her if she had been taking the curtain out of the tub, and she
said "No." She then went and looked in the tub, and found the sheets had
been wrung out. Upon this the first step was taken towards inquiring
after the unhappy woman, who had now lain dead more than a week in the
house. Pelsey found out the maid whom Gardelle had dismissed, and
suspicions being excited that Mrs. King had been unfairly dealt with,
the aid of the police was obtained. Gardelle was then apprehended, and
his answers to the questions put to him being of a very equivocal
nature, a search was made in the house, and the remains of the body
being discovered, disposed of as we have already mentioned, as well as
the linen of the deceased, and of the prisoner, stained with blood, his
guilt was considered to be fully established, and he was committed to
Newgate for trial. While in that prison he made two attempts to destroy
himself by taking laudanum, and by swallowing halfpence to the number of
twelve; but although he was considerably injured by the latter attempt,
he failed in securing his object. He afterwards showed strong marks of
penitence and contrition, and behaved with great humility, openness, and
courtesy, to those who visited him.
On Thursday, the 2d of April, he was tried at the Old Bailey; and, in
his defence, he insisted only that he had no malice to the deceased, and
that her death was the consequence of the fall. He was convicted, and
sentenced to be executed on Saturday, the 4th of the same month. The
account which he wrote in prison, and which is mentioned in this
narrative, is dated the 28th of March, though he did not communicate it
till after his trial. The night after his condemnation, his behaviour
was extravagant and outrageous; but the next morning he was composed and
quiet, and said he had slept three or four hours in the night. When he
was asked why he did not make his escape, he answered that he feared
some innocent person might then suffer in his stead.
He was executed April the 4th 1761, amidst the shouts and hisses of an
indignant populace, in the Haymarket, near Panton-street, to which he
was led by Mrs. King's house, where the cart made a stop. His body was
hung in chains upon Hounslow Heath.
JOHN M'NAUGHTON, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
John M'Naughton, Esq. was the son of a merchant at Derry, whose father
had been an alderman of Dublin. He was educated at Trinity College,
Dublin; and on his coming of age he entered into a landed estate of six
hundred pounds a year, in the county of Tyrone, which was left him by
Dr. M'Naughton, his uncle. The first vice he fell into was that of
gaming, by which he very soon did great injury to his fortune; and
though he continued (as most novices do who play with sharpers) in a
constant run of ill luck, and was soon obliged to mortgage his property,
yet his losses made no visible alteration in his temper. Although he was
of a most passionate disposition, his pride kept him within due bounds
there. All was placid with the polite M'Naughton; and he lost his money
to the very last with that graceful composure that became the man who
had a plentiful fortune to support it. But strong as his passion this
way might be, it was not powerful enough to secure him against the
attacks of love, and becoming attached to a young lady he very speedily
married her. The reader may well suppose that the expenses of a wife and
family in Dublin must soon increase his difficulties, and introduce a
new scene of troubles; and it did so in a manner and with an effect
which was most unhappy for Mr. M'Naughton. It appears that a writ
having been issued against him at the suit of one of his creditors, the
sheriff's officer obtained access to his house by a stratagem, on which
he flew into a rage, and calling out for pistols, he frighted his poor
listening wife to such a degree that premature labour followed, and she
died in childbed.
The feelings of the unfortunate husband upon the occurrence of this
melancholy event were most distressing, and he made repeated attempts
upon his life; but a change of scene being recommended, he was conveyed
to the country, where every attention was paid to his health, while his
fortune also was nursed with equal care. On his return to the gaiety of
the Irish metropolis, he soon resumed that worst of passions--gaming,
and again became the dupe of others, while his property was once more
seriously diminished. At this time he made secret advances to Miss Knox,
the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Richard Knox, Esq. of Prohen
in the county of Derry, who was possessed of a handsome fortune, and
whose promise of marriage he obtained, in the event of her father's
consent being given. On that consent being requested, however, it was at
once refused, on account of the youth of the young lady, whose age did
not exceed sixteen years; and Mr. Knox was so resolute in his refusal,
that he forbade the suitor for his daughter's hand ever to enter the
house again. Mr. M'Naughton begged that this latter injunction might be
withdrawn, urging that it would appear strange to the world that his
friendship with a family, with which he had been so intimate, should be
so suddenly broken off; and upon his promising upon his honour, that the
subject of the marriage should not be again mentioned, and declaring
that he had not previously spoken of it to the young lady herself, his
visits were allowed to be repeated. In the mean time he continued his
addresses to the young lady, and informed her that he had obtained the
consent of her father, but that the marriage must be postponed for a
year or two, when some material business would be settled, which was
required to be decided first; and under this assurance she no longer
withheld the confession that the passion of her admirer was returned,
and appeared to delight most in the company of the man whom she looked
upon as her future husband.
All her hopes were, however, soon doomed to be blasted. One day being in
company with M'Naughton and a little boy in a retired room in the house,
he pressed her to marry him, protesting he never could be happy till he
was sure of her; and with an air of sprightly raillery, pulling out a
prayer-book, he began to read the marriage service, and insisted on the
young lady making the responses, which she did; but to every one she
always added, "provided her father consented."
Some short time after this, Miss Knox going to a friend's house on a
week's visit, Mr. M'Naughton, being also an intimate there, soon
followed her; and here he fixed his scene for action. After a day or two
he claimed her, and, calling her his wife, insisted on consummation; but
the young lady absolutely refused to comply, and leaving the house, went
directly and informed her uncle of the whole affair. On this Mr. Knox
wrote a letter to M'Naughton, telling him what a base dishonourable
villain he was, and bade him avoid his sight for ever; but upon the
receipt of this letter M'Naughton advertised his marriage in the public
newspapers, cautioning every other man not to marry his lawful wife.
This vile attack was answered by a very spirited and proper
advertisement from the father, with in affidavit of the whole affair
from the daughter annexed; and Mr. Knox having commenced a suit in the
Prerogative Court, the marriage was declared invalid. Mr. M'Naughton
having absconded to avoid his debts, could not now appeal to the Court
of Delegates, and the original decree was confirmed. Judge Scott in
consequence issued his warrant for the apprehension of the defendant,
who was liable to pay costs; and M'Naughton, hearing of this, wrote a
most impudent threatening letter to the judge, and, it is said, lay in
wait to have him murdered, but missed him by the judge's taking another
road. Upon this the judge applied to the lord chief justice, who issued
another writ against him, which drove him to England.
In the summer of 1761, Mr. M'Naughton returned to Ireland, and by
constantly hovering round Mr. Knox's house, obliged the family to be
upon their guard, and the young lady to live like a recluse.
About the middle of the summer, however, she ventured to a place called
Swaddling Bar to drink the mineral waters there for her health; but even
thither this unhappy man followed her, and he was seen in a beggar's
habit dogging her footsteps. Thus disguised he was detected; and when
warned never to appear there again, he swore, in the presence of
several, that he would murder the whole family if he did not get
possession of his wife--a threat which he subsequently attempted to
carry out. Notwithstanding his violence, it appears that he was
permitted again to escape to London; and he remained there until the
month of October in the same year. At the beginning of November he was
again seen in Ireland; and having approached the residence of the
Knoxes, he was known to sleep with three of his accomplices, at the
house of a hearth-money collector, very nearly adjoining the abode of
his intended victim. The 10th was the day fixed upon by him for the
attack; and on that morning M'Naughton, with his companions, went to a
cabin on the road-side with a sack full of fire arms, in order to await
the passing of Mr. Knox's coach, in which it was known the family were
about to proceed to Dublin. One of the men was despatched to ascertain
the moment of the coming of the vehicle; and when it appeared in sight,
having obtained the information requisite for its identification, he
hurried back to desire the projector of the scheme to prepare. It
appears that the only persons in the carriage were Mr. Knox and his
wife, their daughter and a maid-servant; and they were attended only by
one livery-servant, and a faithful fellow, a smith, who was
foster-father to Miss Knox, and whom no bribe could ever purchase,
although most of the other servants had been tampered with. As soon as
the coach came near the cabin, two of the villains, armed with guns,
presented themselves to the postilion and coachman, and stopped the
horses, while M'Naughton fired at the smith with a blunderbuss. The
latter escaped being wounded, and presented his piece in return, but it
unfortunately missed fire, and M'Naughton and one of his companions
seizing the opportunity, again fired, and both of them wounded him. Mr.
Knox at this time drew up the blinds of the carriage, and M'Naughton
observing this, ran round to the other side, and firing in at the window
obliquely, with a gun loaded with five balls, shot Miss Knox, all the
balls taking effect in her body. The maid-servant now let down the
window, screaming that her mistress was murdered; and the livery-servant
on hearing this came from behind a peat-stack, where he had concealed
himself for safety, and firing at M'Naughton, wounded him in the back;
and about the same time Mr. Knox from the coach discharged a pistol,
which was the last of eight shots fired on this strange and dreadful
occasion.
The murderer and his accomplices now immediately fled; and Miss Knox
being carried into the cabin, died in about three hours. An attack so
bold and so diabolical in its nature excited the greatest degree of
interest; and large rewards were instantly offered for the apprehension
of the perpetrator of the murder. For a considerable time all search
proved fruitless; but at length a corporal of Sir James Caldwell's
company of Light Horse secured him under the following circumstances:--It
appears that the corporal had received instructions to search the house
and offices of one Wenslow, a farmer, and had examined every place
without success, when he bethought himself of a stratagem, by which to
obtain the requisite information of the murderer's hiding-place.
Observing a fellow digging potatoes in a piece of ground behind the
stables, he remarked in his hearing that it was a great pity that
M'Naughton could not be found, for that the person who discovered his
retreat would be sure of a reward of 300_l._ The bait took, and the
peasant pointed to a barn, and thither the corporal and his assistants
immediately proceeded. The door was fast, but they at length forced it
open, and then they found the object of their search standing with a gun
at his shoulder, apparently determined to resist all efforts made to
secure him. On the appearance of the corporal he fired at him, but
without wounding him; and a shot from the corporal's gun striking him on
the wrist, he was compelled to surrender.
He was immediately secured and carried to Lifford jail, where he
remained in the closest confinement until the 8th December, 1761, when
he was put upon his trial, with an accomplice named Dunlap before Mr.
Baron Mountney and Mr. Justice Scott, on a special commission.
M'Naughton, still suffering from the effects of the wounds which he had
received, was brought into court on a bier, rolled in a blanket, and
wearing the shirt in which he was taken, still smeared with blood. His
beard had grown to an enormous length, and his head was wrapped in a
greasy woollen night-cap. In that condition he made a long speech,
pointedly and sensibly; and complained in the most pathetic manner of
the hard usage he had met with since his confinement. He said "they had
treated him like a man under sentence, and not like a man that was to be
tried." He declared, with tears in his eyes, that he never intended to
kill his dear wife, but that he only designed to take her away.
The case lasted five days, a considerable portion of the first day being
occupied in pleadings to postpone the trial, and the reply of the
counsel for the crown. During these debates M'Naughton often spoke with
most amazing spirit and judgment; but the result was, that he was
ordered to prepare his affidavit, which the Court would take into
consideration. Accordingly, on the 9th, he was brought into Court again,
and his affidavit read, in which he swore that some material witnesses
for him were not to be had, particularly one Owens, who, he said, was
present all the time; but the Court were of opinion that no sufficient
reason for the application was shown, and the trial in consequence
proceeded. During the whole proceedings M'Naughton took his notes as
regularly as any of the lawyers, and cross-examined all the witnesses
with the greatest accuracy, and he was observed to behave with uncommon
resolution.
His chief defence was founded on a letter he produced, as written to him
by Miss Knox, in which she desired him to intercept her on the road to
Dublin, and take her away; but this letter was proved a forgery of his
own, which after condemnation he confessed. He took great pains to
exculpate himself from the least design to murder any one, much less his
dear wife (as he always called her); he declared solemnly that his
intent was only to take her out of the coach, and carry her off; but as
he received the first wound, from the first shot that was fired, the
anguish of that wound, and the prospect of his ill success in his
design, so distracted him that, being wholly involved in confusion and
despair, he fired he knew not at what or whom, and had the misfortune to
kill the only person in the world that was dear to him; that he gave the
Court that trouble, and laboured thus, not to save his life,--for death
was now his choice,--but to clear his character from such horrid guilt
as that which was ascribed to him. The jury, however, found both
prisoners guilty; and M'Naughton received the intimation without any
concern, declaring that "they had acquitted themselves with justice to
the country." Mr. Baron Mountney then pronounced upon both prisoners the
awful sentence which the law directed; and although the Court were
visibly affected by the manner in which this painful duty was performed,
M'Naughton remained unconcerned. He prayed the Court to have mercy upon
Dunlap, alleging that he was his tenant, and had been compelled by him
to participate with him in the transaction, under pain of losing a
lease, which he hoped to be renewed; but he declared that life was not
worth asking for himself, for that his wife being dead, the better half
of himself was gone, and he had nothing to remain for in this world.
Tuesday the 15th December, 1761, was fixed upon for the execution of
these criminals; but it appears that some difficulty was experienced in
carrying the sentence into effect. For a long time no carpenter could be
found to make the gallows, and the sheriff looked out for a tree proper
for the purpose, and the execution must have been performed on it, had
not the uncle of the young lady, and some other gentlemen, made the
gallows, and put it up. The sheriff was afterwards obliged to take a
party of soldiers, and force a smith to take off the prisoners' bolts,
otherwise he must have been obliged, contrary to law, to execute them
with their bolts on. The time for the execution having arrived,
M'Naughton, attended by his fellow prisoner, walked to the place of
execution, but, being weak of his wounds, was supported between two men.
The former was dressed in a white flannel waistcoat trimmed with black
buttons and holes, a diaper night-cap tied with a black riband, white
stockings, mourning-buckles, and a crape tied on his arm. He desired the
executioner to be speedy; and the fellow pointing to the ladder, he
mounted with great spirit. The moment he was tied up he jumped from it
with such vehemence as snapped the rope, and he fell to the ground, but
without dislocating his neck, or doing himself much injury. When they
had raised him on his legs again, he soon recovered his senses; and the
executioner borrowing the rope from Dunlap, and fixing it round
M'Naughton's neck, he went up the ladder a second time, and tying the
rope himself to the gallows, he jumped from it again with the same
force, and appeared dead in a minute.
The spectators, who saw him drop when the rope broke, looked upon it as
some contrivance for his escape, which they favoured all they could by
running away from the place, and leaving it open.
Dunlap was afterwards turned off in the usual manner, in sight of the
dangling body of his accomplice and master.
JOHN SMITH AND ROBERT MAYNE.
EXECUTED FOR A MUTINY ON BOARD THE KING GEORGE.
On the trial of these men, with five more of the crew, it appeared that
disputes arose on board the King George, a fine privateer, of thirty-two
guns and two hundred men, commanded by Captain Reed, and cruising
against the enemies of the country, concerning some prize wine, which
was stowed in the hold, some of the crew insisting on its being hoisted
up to be used for the whole ship's company. This would have been
attended, in their situation, with both difficulty and danger, and was
consequently opposed by Captain Reed and his officers; and being
disappointed, a factious discontented set endeavoured to corrupt the
remainder, and soon gained over so formidable a party, that they
determined to seize the ship, and turn pirates in the Indian seas. In
order to effect this, off Cape Ortugal, the mutineers demanded the keys
of the arm-chests, and on the refusal of their request, they drove the
captain and officers into the cabin.
They then placed a guard at the door, and brought a nine-pounder
carriage-gun, loaded with round and grape shot, to fire among the
officers; but were prevailed upon to desist by the entreaties of Mr.
Gardener, the sailing master.
They then offered the latter the command of the ship, acquainting him
with their intention of steering for the East Indies; but on his refusal
they put him under a guard, and took the ship into their own care, until
they had, for want of skill, nearly lost her. They then released Mr.
Gardener, and gave him the helm; when he steered into Camarinas, in
Spain, where most of the mutineers took to the boats, and made their
escape.
Such as were apprehended were brought to trial; and though two more,
viz. Thomas Baldwin and Laurence Tierman, were found guilty, yet Smith
and Mayne, who were the ringleaders of the mutiny, only were hanged.
They suffered at Execution Dock, May the 10th, 1762.
They were both Irishmen, and Roman Catholics, and were attended by a
priest of that religion.
A few years after this affair a mutiny broke out among the crew of the
Namur, of ninety guns. Fifteen were tried, found guilty, and ordered to
be hanged; and they were taken for execution on board the Royal Ann,
with halters round their necks. While waiting for the fatal gun being
fired, however, they were told that his majesty had pardoned fourteen of
them, but one of them must die; and they were ordered to cast lots.
How exquisite must have been the feelings of these miserable men at the
awful moment of deciding on the fate of one! The fatal lot fell upon the
second man that drew, Matthew M'Can, who was soon run up to the
yard-arm, where the body hung nearly an hour.
The pardoned seamen were turned over to the Grafton and the Sunderland,
under sailing orders for the East Indies.
HANNAH DAGOE.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
There is so much eccentricity in the mode in which this unhappy wretch
terminated her existence, that, although the circumstances of the
robbery for which she was convicted are not of an interesting nature, we
cannot forbear mentioning her case.
We have adduced many instances of hardness of heart, and contempt of the
commandments of God, in men who have undergone the last sentence of the
law; but we are of opinion that in this woman will be found a more
relentless heart, in her last moments, than any criminal whom we have
yet recorded.
Hannah Dagoe was born in Ireland, and was one of that numerous class of
women who ply at Covent Garden market as basket-women. In the pursuit of
her vocation, she became acquainted with a poor and industrious woman of
the name of Eleanor Hussey, who lived by herself in a small apartment,
in which was some creditable household furniture, the remains of the
worldly goods of her deceased husband. Seizing an opportunity, when the
owner was from home, this daring woman broke into Hussey's room, and
stripped it of every article which it contained.
For this burglary and robbery she was brought to trial at the Old
Bailey, found guilty, and sentenced to death.
She was a strong masculine woman, the terror of her fellow prisoners,
and actually stabbed one of the men who had given evidence against her;
but the wound happened not to prove dangerous.
On the road to Tyburn she showed little concern at her miserable state,
and paid no attention to the exhortations of the Romish priest who
attended her. When the cart, in which she was bound, was drawn under the
gallows, she got her hands and arms loose, seized the executioner,
struggled with him, and gave him so violent a blow on the breast as
nearly knocked him down. She dared him to hang her; and in order to
revenge herself upon him, and cheat him of his dues, she took off her
hat, cloak, and other parts of her dress, and disposed of them among the
crowd. After much resistance he got the rope about her neck, which she
had no sooner found accomplished, than, pulling out a handkerchief, she
bound it round her head, over her face, and threw herself out of the
cart, before the signal given, with such violence, that she broke her
neck and died instantly.
This extraordinary and unprecedented scene occurred on the 4th May,
1763.
BARNEY CARROL AND WILLIAM KING.
EXECUTED FOR CUTTING AND MAIMING.
These men had served their country as soldiers, and it is remarkable
that having in that capacity conducted themselves with great bravery,
and earned for themselves well-merited rewards, they should afterwards
have resorted to such atrocious means of procuring a livelihood, as from
this case it will appear they adopted. Having returned to England from
the Havannah, where their regiment had been stationed, they obtained
their discharge, and determined to commence robbers on a plan of the
most infamous cruelty. This consisted in their procuring two young
thieves, named Byfield and Mathews, to go before them and to pick
pockets; and in case of their being detected and seized, their villanous
employers would run up, and by maiming the person holding the boys,
generally by cutting him across the eyes, would procure their release.
The offence for which they were executed, was committed on the 17th
June, 1765; and it appears that a gentleman named Kirby was selected by
the gang as a fit object for attack. Mr. Kirby, however, detected
Byfield in picking his pocket, and before he could withdraw his hand, he
seized him and threatened to carry him before the magistrates. His
intention was not to pursue this threat, but in order to terrify the
boy, he dragged him a considerable distance through the Strand, where
the circumstance had occurred. Carrol soon came up to him, and demanded
the boy's release; but Byfield guessing that he would be permitted to
escape, told him to keep off, for that the gentleman would let him go.
The answer given by the ruffian was "Damn him, but I will cut him," and
instantly drawing his knife, he gave Mr. Kirby a severe cut over the
face. A Mr. Carr at the moment came up to the assistance of Mr. Kirby,
and seized Carrol's arm, and at this instant Kirby, letting go the boy,
struck at Carrol; but the blow happening to fall on Mr. Carr's hand, the
villain made his escape. The rogues then ran off towards St. Clement's
church, and escaped through an alley into Wych Street, though closely
pursued by the gentleman.
Mr. Kirby now felt great pain, but had no idea that he had been wounded
by any sharp instrument; but, putting his hand to his face, he found
that it streamed with blood. Going to the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the
Strand, Mr. Ingram, a surgeon of eminence, almost immediately attended
him; and although the utmost expedition was used in calling in the
assistance of that gentleman, Mr. Kirby had lost near two quarts of
blood in the short interval.
On examination, it appeared that the wound was given in a transverse
direction, from the right eye to the left temple; that two large vessels
were divided by it; that there was a cut across the nose, which left the
bone visible; and that the eye-balls must have been divided by the
slightest deviation from the stroke.
The abominable assassins were very soon apprehended, and found guilty
under the Coventry Act, and hanged at Tyburn, July 31, 1765, amid the
execrations of an enraged multitude.
The "Coventry Act" is a statute of the 22d and 23d Charles II.; its
provision in respect of this crime is to the following effect:--"If any
person, on purpose, and by malice aforethought, and by laying in wait,
shall unlawfully cut or disable the tongue, put out an eye, slit the
nose, cut off a nose or lip, or cut off or disable any limb or member of
any subject, with intention, in so doing, to maim or disfigure him, the
person so offending, his counsellors, aiders, abettors (knowing of, and
privy to, the offence), shall be guilty of felony, without benefit of
clergy." It is called the Coventry Act because it was passed on Sir John
Coventry being assaulted, and having his nose slit in the street; and
the following anecdote is related of the circumstances under which this
outrage was committed.
In the committee of ways and means, in the House of Commons, it had been
resolved that, towards the supply, every one that resorts to any of the
playhouses, who sits in the boxes, shall pay one shilling; every one who
sits in the pit shall pay sixpence; and every other person threepence.
This resolution (to which the House disagreed upon the report) was
opposed in the committee by the courtiers, who gave for a reason "That
the players were the king's servants, and a part of his pleasure." To
this Sir John Coventry, one of the members, by way of reply, asked
"Whether the king's pleasure lay among the men or among the women
players?" This being reported at court, it was highly resented; and a
resolution was privately taken to set a mark on Sir John, to prevent
others from taking the like liberties.
December the 20th was the night that the House of Commons adjourned for
the Christmas holidays. On the 25th, one of the Duke of Monmouth's troop
of life-guards and some few foot, lay in wait from ten at night till two
in the morning, by Suffolk Street; and as Sir John returned from the
tavern, where he supped, to his own house, they threw him down, and,
with a knife, cut the end of his nose almost off; but company coming
made them fearful to finish it.
The debates which this affair occasioned in the House of Commons ran
very high, and one of the members emphatically called the attack on
Coventry "A horrid un-English act."
The result was that the statute in question was passed.
PETER M'KINLIE, GEORGE GIDLEY, ANDREW ZEKERMAN, AND RICHARD ST. QUINTIN.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This case exhibits a remarkable series of adventures which occurred to
the unfortunate man, who, after having survived many engagements and
imprisonments, was doomed to become one of the victims of a horrid and
piratical scheme.
The unfortunate Captain Glass was the son of a minister of the Church of
Scotland, who obtained some notice from his writings, in which he
opposed the practice of religion according to particular forms, and was
founder of a sect called Glassites. At an early period of his life,
young Glass exhibited talents of no ordinary character; and having taken
a degree of Master of Arts at one of the Scotch universities, he applied
himself to the study of medicine. He made rapid progress in this new
line of learning; and after he had taken the necessary degrees, was
employed as a surgeon on board a trading vessel bound for the coast of
Guinea, and in that capacity he afterwards made several voyages to
America. His superior qualifications gained him a distinguished place in
the esteem of several merchants, who entrusted to him the command of a
vessel in the Guinea trade; and his conduct proved highly to the
advantage of his owners, and equally honourable to himself.
When the war against France was declared, Captain Glass found himself in
possession of a very considerable sum, a great part of which he
determined to venture on board a privateer; and he, in consequence,
caused a vessel to be fitted out with all possible expedition, and took
the command on himself.
In about ten days after they had commenced this voyage, they made prize
of a ship, richly laden, belonging to France, which they carried into a
port in the West Indies; but soon afterwards, being obliged to engage
two vessels of war, after an obstinate contest they were compelled to
submit to the superior power of the enemy and strike, but not until
Captain Glass had been severely wounded and most of his men slain. The
captain being conveyed to France, was there consigned to a prison; but
an interchange of prisoners taking place, he once more trod on British
ground.
Nothing daunted by the unsuccessful termination of his first venture, he
tried a second expedition of a similar character, in which he was
equally unfortunate, and was once again consigned to the keeping of a
French jailor, in whose custody he remained until the termination of the
war. He next conceived a design of sailing in search of discoveries; and
in pursuance of this plan he purchased a vessel adapted to his purpose;
and having carefully made every necessary preparation for the
prosecution of his object, he directed his course towards the coast of
Africa. Between the river Senegal and Cape de Verd he discovered a
commodious harbour, from which he entertained the reasonable expectation
that very great commercial advantages might be derived; and he returned
to England, and communicated his discovery to government, who granted
him an exclusive trade to the harbour for the space of twenty years.
That he might be able to pursue his project with the greater advantage,
he now engaged in partnership with two or three gentlemen of fortune;
and a vessel furnished with all necessary articles being again prepared,
he sailed for the newly discovered harbour, and arrived at it in safety.
He soon found, however, that the habits of the natives would not permit
any friendly intercourse to be maintained between them; and being in
great distress for provisions, the captain and three men proceeded in an
open boat to the Canary Isles. During their absence the natives made an
attack upon the vessel, but were repulsed; and the first mate, who had
been left in command of her, thought fit to sheer off, and having in
vain sought his captain, at length returned to England. Glass and his
companions meanwhile had arrived at one of the Canary islands, and
having landed, with a view of petitioning to be allowed to purchase
provisions, was instantly seized by order of the governor, and conveyed
to a dungeon as a spy. In this situation he remained for six months; but
at length he made one of his countrymen, a sailor, acquainted with his
condition by writing his name and the nature of his miseries on a
biscuit with a piece of charcoal, and throwing it to him through his
prison window when he was passing beneath. The sailor immediately
conveyed it to his commander; but the latter on making application for
his release was himself seized and subjected to treatment of similar
severity. The news of this circumstance was, however, directly carried
to England by a vessel, which was on the point of sailing; and speedy
complaint being made to the Spanish government, the liberty of the two
captains was soon obtained. At about this time the wife and daughter of
Captain Glass had arrived at the Canaries, in consequence of the reports
which had reached them of his captivity, and the first joy of again
meeting being passed, they all embarked on board a ship bound for
London, commanded by a Captain Cockeran. Miss Glass at this time was a
young lady about twelve years of age, and ill deserving the fate which
awaited her, as well as her parents. It appears that while the ship lay
at the Canaries, a plot was concerted between Peter M'Kinlie, the
boatswain, a native of Ireland; George Gidley the cook, born in the west
of Yorkshire; Richard St. Quintin, a native of the same county; and
Andrew Zekerman a Dutchman--for murdering all the other persons on
board, and seizing the treasure, which, including what Captain Glass had
shipped in behalf of himself and his partners, amounted to a hundred
thousand pounds in dollars. The villains made three attempts on
different nights to carry their horrid plan into execution, but were
prevented through the circumspection of their commander.
At length, however, the conspirators were appointed to the night-watch
on the 13th of November, when the ship had reached the British Channel;
and about midnight the captain going upon the quarter-deck to see that
all things were disposed in proper order, upon his return he was seized
by the boatswain, who held him while Gidley struck him with an iron bar,
and fractured his skull. Two of the seamen who were not concerned in the
conspiracy, hearing the captain's groans, came upon deck, and were
immediately murdered, and, with their captain, were thrown overboard.
Captain Glass, being alarmed, went up the gangway, and judging that a
mutiny had arisen, returned to fetch his sword. M'Kinlie, guessing his
design, followed him down the steps leading to the cabin, and waited in
the dark till he returned with a drawn sword in his hand, when getting
unperceived behind him, he seized both his arms, and then called to his
accomplices to murder him. Captain Glass, being a very powerful man, had
nearly disengaged himself from the ruffian, when Zekerman came up and
attacked him. The captain wounded him in the arm; but before he could
recover his sword he was overpowered, and the other villains soon joined
their associates. The unhappy man was no sooner disarmed than he was
many times run through the body, and he was then immediately thrown
overboard. Mrs. Glass and her daughter, terrified by the outcry, now
came on deck, and falling on their knees, supplicated for mercy; but
they found the villains utterly destitute of the tender feelings of
humanity; and Zekerman telling them to prepare for death, they embraced
each other in a most affectionate manner, and were then forced from each
other's arms, and thrown into the sea.
Having now put all the crew to death, excepting a boy who attended
Captain Glass, and another boy who was an apprentice on board the ship,
the murderers steered towards the Irish coast, and on the 3rd of
December found themselves within ten leagues of the harbour of Ross.
They then hoisted out the long-boat, and put into it dollars to the
amount of two tons; and after knocking out the windows of the ballast
ports, rowed towards shore, leaving the two boys to sink with the
vessel. Captain Glass's boy could not swim, and he was therefore soon
drowned; but the other lad swam to the boat, when Zekerman struck him a
violent blow on the breast, which caused him immediately to sink.
Having thus massacred eight innocent persons, the villains proceeded to
the mouth of the river Ross; but thinking it would be dangerous to go up
the river with so much riches, they buried two hundred and fifty bags of
dollars in the sand, and conveyed as much treasure as they could
possibly bear about their persons to a village called Fishertown, where
they stopped for refreshment. On the following day they went to Ross,
and there sold twelve hundred dollars; and, having purchased each a pair
of pistols, and hired horses for themselves and two guides, they rode
to Dublin, and took up their residence at the Black Bull in
Thomas-street.
The wreck of the ship was driven on shore on the day of their leaving
Ross; and the manner in which the villains had lived at Fishertown and
Ross, their general behaviour, and other circumstances, being understood
as grounds for suspicion of their being pirates, an express was
despatched by two gentlemen to the lords of the regency at Dublin,
exhibiting the several causes of suspicion, and giving a particular
description of the supposed delinquents.
On examining the wreck a sampler worked by Miss Glass was found, from
which it appeared that a part of the work was done on her birthday,
which afterwards turned out to be the day preceding that on which the
murders were perpetrated; and the sampler proved a principal means of
leading to a discovery of the guilt of these abominable villains.
The gentlemen who were commissioned to attend the lords of the regency
had no sooner communicated their business than the lord mayor and
sheriffs were sent for; and proper instructions being given them, they
on the same night caused M'Kinlie and Zekerman to be taken into custody.
The prisoners were separately examined; and they both confessed the
particulars of their guilt, and that their accomplices had that morning
hired a post-chaise for Cork, where they meant to embark on board a
vessel bound for England. Gidley and St. Quintin were then on the next
day secured at an inn on the road to Cork; and they followed the example
of the other prisoners in acknowledging themselves guilty. The sheriff
of Ross took possession of the effects found in the wreck, and the bags
of dollars that the villains had buried in the sand, and deposited the
whole in the treasury of Dublin for the benefit of the proprietors.
The prisoners being brought to trial, they confessed themselves guilty
of the charges alleged in the indictment; and they were condemned, and
suffered death on the 19th of December, 1765, after which their bodies
were hung in chains in the neighbourhood of Dublin.
FATHER SHEEBY, JAMES BUXTON, AND JAMES FARRELL, OTHERWISE CALLED BUCK
FARRELL.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
About the year 1766 Ireland was first visited by an atrocious gang,
calling themselves White Boys, who committed numerous atrocities in
armed bodies, but whose deeds of blood at this time were only a prelude
to those scenes of horror which have continued to be enacted even up to
the present day. They were encouraged, it was reported, by a number of
disaffected Roman Catholic priests, who seduced various misguided men of
property of their persuasion to connive at and assist them in their
nefarious practices.
In the present instance, Father Sheeby, a Romish priest, persuaded Mr.
Buxton, a gentleman of great property, and Mr. Farrell, a gay,
thoughtless youth, of good family, and many others, to murder several
Protestants who opposed the depredations of the White Boys. On the 28th
of October, 1764, this gang of murderers met on the lands of Shanhally,
where they were sworn by Father Sheeby to murder J. Bridge, Esq., J.
Bagnall, Esq., the Rev. Dr. Hewitson; and in fine, every person who
might oppose them. He also swore them to be true to the French king, and
to assist him to conquer Ireland, whereby they might completely
establish the Roman Catholic Religion. Thus prepared, these enthusiasts
sallied out in pursuit of the blood of their fellow-creatures. They soon
seized Mr. Bridge, accused him of giving information against the White
Boys, and insisted that he should contradict upon oath all that he had
said in his information; and on his refusing to do so, Edward Mecham,
one of the gang (whom, however, we do not find brought to punishment),
cleft his skull in two with a bill-hook, and he instantly expired in the
presence of the remainder of the gang.
The persons whose names are mentioned above, having been apprehended on
suspicion of being concerned in this cruel murder, were tried at
Clonmel, and being found guilty, were executed in 1766.
WILLIAM GUEST.
EXECUTED FOR DIMINISHING THE COIN OF THE REALM.
Guest was the son of a clergyman of unblemished character, of the city
of Worcester, who placed him apprentice to a genteel business. He passed
the term of apprenticeship to the satisfaction of his master, and then
came to London, and took a shop in Holborn, where he carried on business
some years with the usual success of trade. His father's good name
assisted him in procuring a clerkship in the Bank of England; and there
he pursued a system of fraud which procured his execution for a crime
amounting to high treason--that of diminishing the gold coin of the
realm.
He took a house in Broad-street Buildings, in a room in the upper part
of which he used to work. Having procured a curious machine for milling
guineas, not unlike that made use of by mathematical instrument-makers,
he used to take guineas from his drawer at the Bank, file them, and
return them to the Bank, and take out guineas of full weight in their
stead. Of the filings he made ingots, which he sold to an assayer, who,
on his trial, deposed that they were of the same standard as our
guineas.
About three years before his conviction he became a teller at the Bank,
and Mr. Leach, who was also a teller there, observing him picking out
new guineas from the old ones, and having some suspicion, watched him,
to discover whether this was a frequent practice; and finding that it
was, he communicated his suspicions to some others. On the 4th of July
1766, Mr. Guest paid thirty guineas to Richard Still, a servant to Mr.
Corner, a dyer, at Bankside, Southwark; and Leach observing him take
some gold out of a bag in the drawer, and put it among the rest on the
table, went after Still, asked him if his money was right, and begged he
would walk with him into the Pay-office, and let him tell it over. The
man consented, and Leach found three guineas that appeared to have been
newly filed, which he took away, giving Still other guineas for them. He
then carried the light guineas into the hall, and showed them to Mr.
Robert Bell, another teller, who carried them to Mr. Race, the principal
cashier. The latter weighed them, and found that they wanted from ten
pence to about fourteen pence of weight each; and he then, having
examined the edges, delivered them to Leach.
It is a custom at the Bank for the cashier in waiting to take the
tellers' bags every night, and lock them up; and Mr. Race, after these
suspicious circumstances had appeared against Guest, ordered his bags to
be examined after they were taken away. This was done by Mr. Thompson,
one of the under cashiers, and Kemp and Lucas, two in-door tellers, who
found the whole sum they contained to be 1,800_l._ 16_s._ 6_d._; and
they found in one bag forty guineas, which appeared to have been filed
on the edges, and each of which was found to be deficient in weight,
from eight pence to fourteen pence.
In consequence of this disclosure, Mr. Sewallis and Mr. Humberton,
servants to the Bank, went with proper officers to search Mr. Guest's
house in Broad-street Buildings, and in a room up two pair of stairs,
they found a mahogany nest of drawers, which, being broken open, was
discovered to contain a vice, files, an instrument proper for milling
the edges of guineas, two bags of gold filings, and one hundred guineas.
The nest of drawers had a flap before, to let down; and a skin was found
lying at the bottom, fastened to the back part of the flap, with a hole
in the front part, to fasten to a button on the waistcoat, in the manner
used by jewellers.
Mr. Guest was then apprehended, and being brought to trial, was found
guilty, and sentenced to be executed. He subsequently zealously applied
himself to the only duty which remained for him in this life to
perform--that of making his peace with God, and was hanged on the 14th
of October, 1767.
ELIZABETH BROWNRIGG.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this most notorious criminal is too well remembered to
render any introduction to it necessary. The long scene of torture in
which the inhuman wretch kept the innocent object of her remorseless
cruelty ere she completed the long premeditated murder, requires no
comment, engaging as it did the interest, and exciting the horror of all
ranks of people, and rousing the indignation of the populace more than
the case of any criminal whose offences it is our duty to record, in the
whole course of our melancholy narratives.
The wretched subject of this memoir passed the early part of her life in
the service of many respectable families in London; but at length, being
addressed by James Brownrigg, a plumber at Greenwich, she consented to
marry him; and they were accordingly united in that town. After having
resided at Greenwich during about seven years, they determined to remove
to London, and they, in consequence, rented a house in Flower-de-Luce
(Fleur-de-Lys) Court, Fleet-street, where Brownrigg carried on his trade
with so much success, that he was enabled to hire a small house at
Islington as a summer retreat. Their means, however, declining as their
family increased to the number of sixteen, Mrs. Brownrigg applied to the
overseers of the parish of St. Dunstan to be employed in the capacity of
midwife to the workhouse; and testimonials having been produced of her
ability--for she had already practised midwifery to a considerable
extent--she was duly appointed. Her services were found to give entire
satisfaction to the parish-officers, and she now hit upon a new mode of
adding to her income. She, in the year 1765, opened a house in which she
advertised her readiness to receive women to lie-in privately; but
finding that the expense of keeping servants would be very great, she
applied to the officers of the precinct of Whitefriars and of the
Foundling Hospital for girls to be apprenticed to her, to learn the
duties of household servants. Two girls, named Mary Mitchell and Mary
Jones, were immediately placed with her, the former from Whitefriars,
and the latter from the Foundling Hospital; and it would appear, that at
first the poor orphans were treated with some degree of consideration
and attention, but as soon as they became familiar with their mistress
and their situation, the slightest inattention was sufficient to call
down upon them the most severe chastisement. The first girl who
experienced this brutal treatment was Jones; and it appears that her
mistress would frequently, upon the smallest possible provocation, lay
her down across two chairs in the kitchen, and there whip her until she
was compelled, from mere weariness, to desist. The usual termination of
this scene of disgusting inhumanity was, that the mistress would throw
water over her victim, or dip her head into a bucket of water, and then
dismiss her to her own apartment. The room appointed for the girl to
sleep in adjoined the passage leading to the street-door; and, after she
had suffered this maltreatment for a considerable time, as she had
received many wounds on her head, shoulders, and various parts of her
body, she determined not to bear such usage any longer, if she could
secure her liberty. Observing that the key was left in the street-door
when the family went to bed, therefore, she opened it cautiously one
morning, and escaped into the street. Thus freed from her horrid
confinement, she repeatedly inquired her way to the Foundling Hospital
until she found it, and was admitted after describing in what manner she
had been treated, and showing the bruises she had received.
The child having been examined by a surgeon, (who found her wounds to be
of a most alarming nature,) the governors of the hospital ordered Mr.
Plumbtree, their solicitor, to write to James Brownrigg, threatening a
prosecution, if he did not give a proper reason for the severities
exercised toward the child; but no notice of this having been taken, the
governors of the hospital thinking it imprudent to indict at common law,
the girl was discharged, in consequence of an application to the
chamberlain of London. The other girl, Mary Mitchell, continued with her
mistress for the space of a year, during which she was treated with
equal cruelty, and she also at length resolved to quit her service. An
opportunity soon presented itself which favoured her design; but having
escaped from the house, she was met in the street by the younger son of
Brownrigg, who forced her to return home, where her sufferings were
greatly aggravated on account of her elopement. In the interim Mrs.
Brownrigg found it necessary to fill up the place occupied by her late
apprentice, Mary Jones; and she applied again to the overseers of the
precinct of Whitefriars, who, having learned nothing of the
ill-behaviour of the woman, bound a girl named Mary Clifford to her, who
was doomed to fall a victim to her brutality, and to be the cause of her
eventual execution. It was not long before the new apprentice
experienced equal if not greater cruelties than those inflicted upon the
other unfortunate girls. She was frequently tied up naked and beaten
with a hearth-broom, a horsewhip, or a cane, till she was absolutely
speechless; and the poor girl having a natural infirmity, her mistress
would not permit her to lie in a bed, but placed her on a mat in a
coal-hole that was remarkably cold. After some time, however, a sack and
a quantity of straw formed her bed, instead of the mat; but during her
confinement in this wretched situation, she had nothing to subsist on
but bread and water; and her covering, during the night, consisted only
of her own clothes, so that she sometimes lay almost perished with cold.
On a particular occasion, when she was almost starving with hunger, she
broke open a cupboard in search of food, but found it empty; and on
another day, being parched with thirst, she tore down some boards in
order to procure a draught of water. These acts of what were deemed
daring atrocity by her inhuman mistress, immediately pointed her out as
a proper mark for the most rigorous treatment; and, having been stripped
to the skin, she was kept naked during the whole day, and repeatedly
beaten with the but-end of a whip. In the course of this barbarous
conduct Mrs. Brownrigg fastened a jack-chain round her neck so tight as
almost to strangle her, and confined her by its means to the yard-door,
in order to prevent her escape, in case of her mistress' strength
reviving, so as to enable her to renew the severities which she was
inflicting on her; and a day having passed in the exercise of these most
atrocious cruelties, the miserable girl was remanded to her cellar, her
hands being tied behind her, and the chain being still round her neck,
to be ready for a renewal of the cruelties on the following day.
Determined then upon pursuing the wretched girl still further, Mrs.
Brownrigg tied her hands together with a cord, and fixing a rope to her
wrists, she drew her up to a water-pipe, which ran across the kitchen
ceiling, and commenced a most unmerciful castigation, but the pipe
giving way in the midst of it, she caused her husband to fix a hook in
the beam, and then again hoisting up her miserable victim, she
horsewhipped her until she was weary, the blood flowing at nearly every
stroke. Nor was Mrs. Brownrigg the only tormentor of this wretched
being, for her elder son having one day ordered her to put up a
half-tester bedstead, her strength was so far gone that she was unable
to obey him, on which he whipped her until she sunk insensible under the
lash.
At length the unhappy girl, being unable any longer to bear these
unheard-of cruelties, complained to a French lady who lodged in the
house, and entreated her interference to procure some remission of the
frightful barbarities which had been practised upon her. The
good-natured foreigner appealed to Mrs. Brownrigg, showing to her the
inhumanity of her behaviour; but the only effect produced was a volley
of abuse levelled at the person who interposed, and an attempt, on the
part of the monster, to cut out the tongue of her apprentice with a pair
of scissors, in the course of which she wounded her in two places.
The close of this prolonged tragedy, however, now approached, when the
disgusting barbarity of Mrs. Brownrigg, at which the heart recoils and
sickens, was to be discovered and punished. In the month of July, the
step-mother of Clifford, who had been living out of town, came to London
for the purpose of inquiring after her daughter; and, learning from the
parish-officers that she was in the service of Mrs. Brownrigg, she
immediately proceeded to her house, and requested to be allowed to see
her. She was, however, refused admittance by Mr. Brownrigg, who even
threatened to carry her before the lord mayor if she came there to make
further disturbances; and upon this she was going away, when Mrs.
Deacon, wife of Mr. Deacon, baker, at the adjoining house, called her
in, and informed her that she and her family had often heard moanings
and groans issue from Brownrigg's house, and that she suspected the
apprentices were treated with unwarrantable severity.
The suspicions of the neighbourhood having thus been raised, every means
was employed to procure the unravelment of the truth, and the
proceedings of the guilty parties themselves obtained the discovery of
all their wickedness.
At this juncture Mr. Brownrigg, going to Hampstead on business, bought a
hog, which he sent home; and the animal being put into a covered yard,
having a skylight, it was thought necessary to remove the window, in
order to give to it air.
As soon as it was known that the sky-light was removed, Mr. Deacon
ordered his servants to watch, in order, if possible, to discover the
girls: accordingly one of the maids, looking from a window, saw one of
them stooping down. She immediately called her mistress, who procured
the attendance of some of the neighbours, and having all of them been
witnesses to the shocking scene which presented itself, some men got
upon the leads, and dropped bits of dirt, in order to induce the girl to
speak to them; but she seemed wholly incapable. Mrs. Deacon then sent to
Clifford's mother-in-law, who immediately called upon Mr. Grundy, one of
the overseers of St. Dunstan's, and represented the case. Mr. Grundy and
the rest of the overseers, with the women, went and demanded a sight of
Mary Clifford; but Brownrigg, who had nicknamed her Nan, told them that
he knew no such person; but, if they wanted to see Mary (meaning Mary
Mitchell), they might, and she accordingly produced her. Upon this Mr.
Deacon's servant declared that Mary Mitchell was not the girl they
wanted, and Mr. Grundy now sent for a constable to search the house. An
examination took place, but, the girl being concealed, she was not
found; and the officers, notwithstanding the threats of Brownrigg, took
Mitchell away. On their arriving at the workhouse, she was found to be
in a most wretched state. Her body was covered with ulcerated sores; and
on her taking off her leathern boddice, it stuck so fast to her wounds
that she shrieked with the pain; but, on being treated with great
humanity, and told that she should not be sent back to Brownrigg's, she
gave an account of the cruelties which she had undergone, which she
described as even more terrible than we have ventured to paint them. She
also stated that she had met her fellow-apprentice on the stairs
immediately before the parish officers entered the house, and added that
Mrs. Brownrigg had concealed her, so that she should not be found. Upon
this Mr. Grundy and the others went back to Brownrigg's, and in spite of
his threats of prosecution, proceeded to take him into custody. He then
promised to produce the girl if he were allowed his liberty, and this
being consented to, she was brought out of a cupboard, under a beaufet
in the dining-room.
Words cannot adequately describe the condition of misery in which the
unfortunate girl was found to be on her being examined. Medical
assistance was immediately obtained, and she was pronounced to be in
considerable danger; and Brownrigg was in consequence taken into
custody, and conveyed to Wood-street Compter. His wife and son, alarmed
at this proceeding, absconded, carrying with them some articles of value
for their support; and Brownrigg subsequently being carried before Mr.
Alderman Crossby, was fully committed for trial, upon the charge of
having been guilty of violent assaults. The melancholy death of the girl
Clifford, however, which took place in St. Bartholomew's Hospital a few
days afterwards, altered the complexion of the offence; and a Coroner's
Inquest having been summoned, a verdict of wilful murder was returned
against the three Brownriggs, father, mother, and son.
The two latter, in the meantime, had shifted about from place to place
in London, and had taken every means in their power to disguise
themselves; but at length they removed to Wandsworth, determined to
await there the result of the trial of their relation. It so happened,
however, that they took lodging in the house of a Mr. Dunbar, a
chandler, and that person having some suspicion of his guests, watched
them narrowly; and seeing an advertisement which described their persons
exactly, as being participators in the murder which had been committed,
he caused their apprehension.
At the ensuing session at the Old Bailey the three prisoners were
brought to trial; and, after an investigation of eleven hours' duration,
Mrs. Brownrigg was capitally convicted; but her husband and son were
found not guilty of the offence imputed to them. Mrs. Brownrigg was
immediately sentenced to undergo the extreme penalty of the law, while
the participators in her guilt were detained for trial on the minor
charge of misdemeanor, of which they were eventually convicted, and were
sentenced to six months' imprisonment.
After sentence had been pronounced, the unfortunate woman addressed
herself to the Almighty; and, being attended by the ordinary of the
jail, she confessed to him the enormity of her guilt, and that the
punishment which awaited her was a just one. The parting between her and
her husband and son is described to have been one which exhibited the
strongest affection to exist, and which appeared to call up all those
better feelings of the heart in the breast of this wretched woman, which
must have lain dormant during the whole course of the maltreatment to
which she subjected her wretched apprentices. On her way to the scaffold
she was assailed by the mob, who expressed the most unmitigated disgust
for her crime; and, before the termination of her existence, she
appeared to be fully sensible of the awful situation in which she stood,
and prayed the ordinary to acquaint the people that she confessed her
crime, and acknowledged the justice of her sentence.
After her execution, which took place at Tyburn, September the 14th,
1767, her body was put into a hackney-coach, and conveyed to Surgeons'
Hall, where it was dissected, and her skeleton hung up.
JOHN WILLIAMSON.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this criminal is a fit companion for that of the wretched
being whose fate we last described.
Williamson was the son of people in but indifferent circumstances, who
put him apprentice to a shoemaker. When he came to be a journeyman he
pursued his business with industry; and in a short time he married an
honest and sober woman, by whom he had three children. His wife dying,
he continued some time a widower, maintaining himself and his children
in a decent manner.
At length he contracted an acquaintance with a young woman deficient in
point of intellect, to whom he made proposals of marriage, in the
anticipation of receiving a small sum of money, which her relations had
left her for her maintenance. The woman was nothing loth, and
notwithstanding the opposition of her guardians, Williamson having
procured a licence, the marriage was solemnized; and he in consequence
received the money which he expected.
Within three weeks after the marriage, his ill-treatment of his unhappy
wife commenced; and having frequently beaten her in the most barbarous
manner, he at length fastened the miserable creature's hands behind her
with handcuffs; and, by means of a rope passed through a staple in the
ceiling of a closet where she was confined, drew them so tight above her
head, that only the tips of her toes touched the ground. On one side of
the closet was now and then put a small piece of bread-and-butter, so
that she could just touch it with her mouth; and she was daily allowed a
small portion of water. She once remained a whole month without being
released from this miserable condition; but during that time she
occasionally received assistance from a female lodger in the house, and
a little girl, Williamson's daughter by his former wife. The girl having
once released the poor sufferer, the inhuman villain beat her with great
severity; but when the father was abroad, the child frequently gave the
unhappy woman a stool to stand upon, by which means her pain was in some
degree abated.
On the Sunday preceding the day on which she died, Williamson released
his wife; and at dinner-time cut her some meat, of which, however, she
ate only a very small quantity. Her hands being greatly swelled through
the coldness of the weather and the pain occasioned by the handcuffs,
she begged to be permitted to go near the fire; and the daughter joining
in her request, Williamson complied; but when she had sat a few minutes,
her husband, observing her throwing the vermin that swarmed upon her
clothes into the fire, ordered her to "return to her kennel." She
immediately went back to the closet, the door of which was locked till
the next day, and she was then found to be in a delirious state, in
which she continued till the time of her death, which happened about two
o'clock on the Tuesday morning.
The coroner's jury being summoned to sit on the body, Mr. Barton, a
surgeon, of Redcross-street, who had opened it, declared that he was of
opinion that the deceased had perished through the want of the common
necessaries of life; and other evidence being adduced to criminate
Williamson, he was committed to Newgate.
At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey he was brought to trial before
Lord Chief Baron Parker; and the principal witnesses against him were
his daughter, Mrs. Cole, and Mr. Barton, the surgeon who opened the body
of the deceased.
The prisoner's defence was exceedingly frivolous. He said his wife had
provoked him by treading upon a kitten, and killing it, and then turning
up the whites of her eyes. He had the effrontery also to declare to the
Court that he had not abridged his wife of any of the necessaries of
life; and after sentence of death was pronounced, he reflected upon his
daughter as being the cause of his destruction.
Being put into the cells, he sent for a clergyman, and acknowledged that
he had treated his wife in the cruel manner represented upon the trial;
adding, however, that he had no design of depriving her of life: and he
afterwards behaved in a decent and penitent manner.
He was conveyed to the place of execution in a cart, attended by two
clergymen and a methodist preacher. The gallows was placed on the rising
ground opposite Chiswell-street, in Moorfields; and after he had sung a
psalm, and prayed some time with an appearance of great devotion, he was
turned off, January 19th, 1767, amidst an amazing concourse of people.
His body was conveyed to Surgeons' Hali for dissection, and his children
were placed in Cripplegate workhouse.
SARAH METYARD AND SARAH MORGAN METYARD.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDERS OF PARISH APPRENTICES.
A single year had not elapsed since the public example made of Elizabeth
Brownrigg, to which the public indignation was yet alive, when these
two, if possible, more cruel women, were found guilty of torturing their
apprentices to death.
Sarah Metyard was a milliner, and her daughter her assistant, in
Bruton-street, Hanover-square, London.
In the year 1758 the mother had five apprentice girls bound to her from
different parish workhouses, among whom were Anne Naylor and her sister.
Anne Naylor, being of a sickly constitution, was not able to do so much
work as the other apprentices, and she therefore became the more
immediate object of the fury of her mistress. The ill-treatment which
she experienced at length induced the unhappy girl to abscond; but being
pursued, she was brought back and confined in an upper apartment, where
her food consisted of a small piece of bread and a draught of water only
each day. Seizing an opportunity, she again attempted to escape; but her
young mistress was in time to see her run out, and, following her and
seizing her by the neck, she brought her back, and with great violence
thrust her into an upper room. The old woman then interfered, and
catching the girl, she threw her on the bed, while her daughter beat her
unmercifully with a hearth-brush. This done, they put her into a back
room, and fixing a cord round her waist, they tied her hands behind her,
and fastened her to the handle of the door so as to prevent her sitting
or lying down; and in order that the example of her punishment might
intimidate her fellow-apprentices, they were ordered to work in the
adjoining apartment, strict injunctions, however, being given to them to
afford the prisoner no relief whatever.
In this condition, without the smallest nourishment of any kind, the
wretched girl remained for three days and two nights, when having been
let loose, in order that she might go to bed, she crept up to the garret
in a state of the greatest exhaustion. On the fourth day she faltered in
her speech, but was nevertheless again conveyed to what was worse than
her condemned cell, and there, in the course of a very short time, she
expired, her body being suspended by the cords which had been again
placed round her person. The other girls, seeing that her whole weight
was thus supported, cried out that she did not move; and the younger
Metyard coming up, said, "If she does not move soon, I'll make her," and
immediately beat her on the head with the heel of a shoe; but finding
that in truth she was senseless, she sent for her mother to come and
assist her. The body was then released from its bonds, and efforts were
made to restore animation, but without effect; and Mrs. Metyard being
convinced that the child was dead, removed her remains into the garret.
On the return of the other children, who had been sent out of the way,
they were informed that the girl had been in a fit, but was perfectly
recovered; and it was added that she was now locked in a garret, in
order that she should not run away: and to strengthen the effect of this
story, a plate of meat was sent up to the room where the body lay in the
middle of the day for her dinner.
On the fourth day, a design was formed to follow up the tale which had
been related; and the body of the deceased having been locked in a box,
the garret-door and the street-door were left open, and one of the
apprentices was desired to call Nanny down to dinner, and to tell her
that if she would promise to behave well in future, she would be no
longer confined. Upon the return of the child, she said Nanny was not
above stairs; and after a great parade in searching every part of the
house, the Metyards reflected upon her as being of an untractable
disposition, and pretended that she had run away.
The sister of the deceased, who was apprenticed to the same mistress,
mentioned to a lodger in the house that she was persuaded her sister was
dead; observing, that it was not probable she had gone away, since her
shoes, shift, and other parts of her apparel still remained in the
garret; and the suspicions of this girl coming to the knowledge of the
inhuman wretches, they, with a view of preventing a discovery, cruelly
murdered her, and secreted the body.
The body of Anne remained in the box two months, during which time the
garret-door was kept locked, lest the offensive smell should lead to a
discovery; but the stench at length becoming very powerful, they judged
it prudent to remove the remains of the unhappy victim of their
barbarity; and, therefore, in the evening of the 25th of December, they
cut the body in pieces, and tied the head and trunk up in one cloth, and
the limbs in another, excepting one hand, a finger belonging to which
had been amputated before death, which they resolved to burn.
When the apprentices were gone to bed, the old woman put the hand into
the fire, saying, "The fire tells no tales;" but fearing that the
consumption of the whole body would create an unpleasant smell, they
determined to dispose of its parts by throwing them into the common
sewer in Chick-lane. Being unable to effect this, however, they left
them among the mud and water that was collected before the grate of the
sewer; and some pieces of the body being discovered about twelve o'clock
by the watchman, he mentioned the circumstance to the constable of the
night. The constable applied to one of the overseers of the parish, by
whose direction the parts of the body were collected and taken to the
watch-house. On the following day the matter was communicated to Mr.
Umfreville, the coroner, who examined the pieces found by the watchman;
but, supposing them to be parts of a corpse taken from a churchyard for
the use of some surgeon, he declined summoning a jury.
Four years elapsed before the discovery of these horrid murders; but at
length the dissensions which frequently occurred between their wretched
perpetrators procured their apprehension and conviction. It appears that
the mother was in the habit of treating her daughter with a brutality
almost equal to that which she had exhibited to her apprentices, and
about two years after the murders a gentleman of the name of Rooker took
lodgings in the house of Metyard, where he lived about three months,
during which time he had frequent opportunities of observing the
severity which she suffered.
He afterwards hired a house in Hill-street, and, influenced by
compassion for her sufferings, and being desirous of relieving her from
the tyranny of her mother, he invited the girl to live in his family in
the capacity of a servant; which offer she cheerfully embraced, though
her mother had many times violently opposed her desire of going to
service. The girl had no sooner removed to Mr. Rooker's house than the
old woman became perfectly outrageous; and it was almost her daily
practice to create disturbances in Mr. Rooker's neighbourhood, by
venting the most bitter execrations against the girl, and branding her
with the most opprobrious epithets. Mr. Rooker subsequently removed to
Ealing, to reside on a little estate bequeathed him by a relation; and
having by this time seduced the girl, she accompanied him, and lived
with him professedly in the character of his mistress.
The old woman's visits were not less frequent at Ealing than they had
been at Mr. Rooker's house in London; nor was her behaviour less
outrageous.
On the 9th of June 1768, being admitted to the house, she beat her
daughter in a terrible manner; and during the contention many
expressions were uttered by both parties that gave great uneasiness to
Mr. Rooker. The mother called Mr. Rooker "the old perfumed tea-dog;" and
the girl retorted by saying, "Remember, mother, you are the perfumer;
you are the Chick-lane ghost."
The mother having retired, Mr. Rooker urged the girl to explain what was
meant to be insinuated by the indirect accusations introduced by both
parties in the course of the dispute; and, bursting into tears, she
confessed the particulars of the murders, begging that a secret so
materially affecting her mother might never be divulged.
Mr. Rooker imagined that the daughter could not be rendered amenable to
the law, as she performed her share in the murders by the direction of
her mother, and he wrote to the overseers of the parish of Tottenham,
acquainting them with what he had learned. The elder Metyard was in
consequence taken into custody; and the evidence against her being
conclusive, she was fully committed for trial. Some circumstances,
however, having come out which served to criminate her daughter, she
also was secured, and with her mother was sent to Newgate to abide her
trial.
When arraigned upon the indictment preferred against them at the ensuing
Old Bailey Sessions, they bitterly reproached one another with the part
each had taken in the affair; and if any evidence of their guilt had
been wanting, their own declarations at this time would have been
sufficient to secure their conviction. The jury immediately found them
guilty, and they were sentenced to undergo the severest penalty of the
law. The younger prisoner pleaded that she was pregnant, on being called
up to receive judgment; but a jury of matrons being assembled, they
declared her plea false, and she was sentenced immediately.
On the day fixed for their execution, the elder prisoner was found to be
in a state of utter insensibility, and in that condition she was carried
to the scaffold, and, all efforts to restore her having failed, was
turned off. Her daughter prayed for a few minutes with the ordinary who
attended her, but was in almost as melancholy a condition as her mother.
They were executed at Tyburn on the 19th July 1768, and their bodies
were afterwards dissected at Surgeons' Hall.
FREDERIC, LORD BALTIMORE; ELIZABETH GRIFFENBURG; AND ANNE HARVEY.
TRIED FOR THE COMMISSION OF A RAPE, THE FEMALES AS ACCESSORIES BEFORE
THE FACT.
Although the trial of these persons was not followed by a conviction,
the extraordinary nature of the transactions described by the
prosecutrix in the case renders it our duty to state the facts alleged
as they appeared at the trial.
The title which was inherited by Lord Baltimore, who was a peer of
Ireland, was originally granted by James I. to Mr. Calvert, from whom he
was lineally descended, together with a large tract of land in America,
now called Maryland. His lordship is related to have exhibited a taste
for knowledge in early life, and was sent from Epsom, where he was born,
to Eton, where he soon gained a considerable acquaintance with the
classics. His father dying before he was of age, left him an ample
fortune; and he is said to have shown at this time the existence of that
passion which subsequently brought him into the difficulty from which he
was compelled to extricate himself before a jury of his country.
In obedience to the custom of the times, the young lord proceeded to
perform the grand tour; and it is reported that having sailed from
Naples to Constantinople, he there imbibed so great an admiration for
the manners of the Turks, that on his return to England in 1766, he
caused a portion of his family mansion to be taken down, and to be
rebuilt in the form of a harem. His lordship was not long in completing
his new establishment; and, like the persons whose customs he imitated,
he gave to its inmates certain rules, by which he directed that their
conduct and demeanour should be regulated.
The disgusting passions of his lordship, however, knew no bounds; and
agents were employed in London, whose duty it was to select new objects
for the gratification of his lustful desires. Amongst others who were
thus engaged in this degrading office were the women Griffenburg, who
was a native of Germany, and the wife of a Dr. Griffenburg, and Harvey,
whose names appear at the head of this article. They were both women of
low education, and their duty was to discover and point out persons who
might be deemed worthy of the attentions of their employer, and in case
of necessity to aid him in securing the end which he had in view. In the
course of their brutal and inhuman searches in this occupation, they
unfortunately discovered a young woman of considerable personal
attractions, and of some respectability, named Woodcock, who kept a
milliner's shop on Tower-hill; and Mrs. Harvey acquainting his lordship
with her residence, in November 1767, he directly proceeded to the spot
for the purpose of pursuing his diabolical designs. Calling at Miss
Woodcock's shop, he purchased some articles of trifling value, with a
view of making an acquaintance with her; and then having succeeded in
opening a conversation with her, he invited her to accompany him to the
theatre. Miss Woodcock declined the offer, saying that her religious
opinions taught her to believe that theatrical entertainments were
incompatible with the due exercise of the worship of the Almighty; and
his lordship finding all his efforts to attain his object vain, retired,
but only to put his agent, Mrs Harvey, to work.
Introducing herself as a customer, this infamous woman called repeatedly
at the shop of her intended victim, and purchased ruffles and other
articles of millinery. On the 14th of December, however, she proceeded
to take active measures in her plot; and then ordering a pair of lace
ruffles to be made by the following day, she directed Miss Woodcock to
take them herself to her residence in the Curtain-road, Shoreditch,
declaring that they were for a lady of rank and fortune, who was
desirous of encouraging her in her business, and who, if the order was
punctually obeyed, would, without doubt, become an excellent customer.
The ruffles were finished and carried home at the appointed time; and
then Miss Woodcock being invited in, was received politely by Mrs.
Harvey, who pressed her to stay to tea. She declined the invitation, on
the ground that it would be dark before she could reach home if she
remained; but at this moment a man named Isaacs came in, who said that
he was going to the theatre, and Mrs. Harvey expressing a desire at once
to convey the goods which had been brought to her to the lady for whom
they were ordered, it was eventually agreed, after some objections on
the part of Miss Woodcock as to her dress, that as Isaacs must hire a
coach, they should all go together.
At this time Lord Baltimore's carriage was waiting in the neighbourhood,
and the Jew going out, called it up, and all three got into it, Miss
Woodcock making no remark as to whether it was a private or a hired
conveyance. The coachman drove at a great pace; and after they had
traversed many streets, the vehicle was driven into the court-yard of a
house which appeared to be that of a person of consideration. Mrs.
Harvey and Miss Woodcock then alighted, and being ushered into the
house, they were conducted through several apartments until they reached
one in which an elderly gentleman, afterwards known as Dr. Griffenburg,
was seen seated; and he immediately retired, saying that he would
acquaint the lady of the house with their arrival. Lord Baltimore soon
afterwards entered; and Miss Woodcock was alarmed to find that he was
the person who had visited her shop. He bid her rest quiet, however,
saying that he was only the steward of the lady whom she was to see, and
then quitted the room, but soon afterwards returned with Mrs.
Griffenburg, who conversed with her as if she had expected her coming
and was the lady of the house. Orders were afterwards given for tea; and
on the equipage being removed from the table, Lord Baltimore presented
some trinkets to Miss Woodcock, which he said he had purchased for her.
As the evening advanced she became anxious to return, and expressed her
fears that her relatives would be surprised at her long absence; but his
lordship, in order to divert her from this purpose, took her to view the
apartments in the house, and at length, on her becoming still more
importunate, insisted that she should stay for supper. Private orders
having been given for the preparation of this meal, and Mrs. Griffenburg
having retired, his lordship began taking liberties of an indecent
character with the young lady; but on her exclaiming against this
treatment, Mrs. Harvey and Dr. Griffenburg appeared, as if to aid in
opposing her escape in the event of her attempting to obtain her
liberty. Supper was soon afterwards served; but it does not appear that
any idea was entertained by Miss Woodcock of an intention to detain her
forcibly until after this meal, when Lord Baltimore told her that there
were no coaches to be had then, and that she must remain for the night.
Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey now endeavoured to prevail on the young
lady to go to bed; but she declared that she would never sleep in that
house; and although they conducted her to a room in which they went to
rest, she continued walking about till the morning, and lamenting her
unhappy fate. Looking out of the window at about eight o'clock, she
observed a young woman passing, to whom she threw out her handkerchief,
which was then heavy with tears, intending to attract her attention and
send to her father for assistance; but the two women, jumping out of
bed, prevented the possibility of her holding any communication with
her, and upbraided her for what they called the rejection of her good
fortune, declaring their wishes that they were in her happy situation.
The women now quitting the room, Lord Baltimore and Dr. Griffenburg came
in soon afterwards; when the former said that he was astonished at her
outrageous behaviour, as he had promised that she should go home at
twelve o'clock: but she replied that they had no right to detain her,
and that she would go home directly, as her sister, and particularly her
father, would be inexpressibly anxious on occasion of her absence.
To this no answer was made; but Lord Baltimore conducted her down
stairs, and ordered breakfast. She refused, however, to eat, and having
wept incessantly till twelve o'clock, at that hour she once more
demanded her liberty. His lordship then said that he loved her to
excess; that he could not part with her; but that he did not intend any
injury to her, and would write to her father: and on this he wrote a
letter, of which the following is a copy, and in it sent a bank-note of
two hundred pounds:--
"Your daughter Sally sends you the enclosed, and desires you will not be
uneasy on her account, because everything will turn out well with a
little patience and prudence. She is at a friend's house safe and well,
in all honesty and honour; nothing else is meant, you may depend on it;
and, sir, as your presence and consent are necessary, we beg of you to
come in a private manner to Mr. Richard Smith's in Broad-street
Buildings."
Having addressed this to her father, he showed it to her, and desired
that she would write a few words at the bottom, signifying her
compliance with its terms; and terrified by her condition, she wrote,
"Dear Father--This is true, and should be glad you would come this
afternoon. Your dutiful daughter."--From the statement of the young
lady, it appears that after this she conjured his lordship to give her
her liberty, pointing out to him, in the most striking manner, the
degradation to which she was subjected; but all her arguments were in
vain, and she was again compelled to pass the night, as before, in the
room with Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey. In the morning, by
permission of his lordship, she wrote a letter to her father, desiring
him to come to her immediate assistance, but saying that she had been
treated with "as much honour as she could expect;" but she still
declined holding any conversation with his lordship, and used all her
efforts to make her situation known to the passers-by. In this, however,
she was checked by his lordship and the women, who threatened to throw
her out of window in the event of her making any disturbance. Towards
the middle of the day she was told that her father had called at Mr.
Smith's, but had refused to wait until she was sent for; but at midnight
Mr. Broughton, his lordship's steward, brought intelligence that Isaacs,
the Jew, having offered a letter to Miss Woodcock's father, was stopped
till he should give an account where the young lady was secreted. Lord
Baltimore was, or affected to be, in a violent passion, and vowed
vengeance against the father; but in the interim the Jew entered, and
delivered a letter which he pretended to have received from Miss
Woodcock's sister, and she took it to read: but she had wept so much
that her eyes were sore; and of all she read, she could only recollect
this passage:--"Only please to appoint a place where and when we may
meet with you."
The hour of retirement being now arrived, Miss Woodcock refused to go up
stairs, unless she might be assured of not receiving any insult from his
lordship. She had not taken any sustenance since she entered the house;
and on this night she lay down in her clothes on a bed in which Mrs.
Harvey reposed herself. She then asked this woman if she had ever been
in love, and acknowledged that she herself was addressed by a young
fellow, who appeared very fond of her, and that they were to settle in
business as soon as the marriage should take place; and she desired Mrs.
Harvey to show her the way out of the house that had been so obnoxious
to her: but the answer of the latter was, that though she had lived in
the house several years, she did not herself know the way out of it.
On the following morning, when Miss Woodcock went down stairs, she
pleaded earnestly with Lord Baltimore for her liberty; on which he
became most violently enraged, called her by the vilest names, and said
that if she spoke to him on the subject any more, he would either throw
her out of the window, or send her home in a wheelbarrow with her
petticoats tied over her head; and turning to Isaacs the Jew, he said,
"Take the slut to a mean house like herself;" which greatly terrified
her, as she presumed he meant a house of ill fame.
The sufferings she had undergone having by this time made her extremely
ill, Lord Baltimore mixed a draught for her, which he insisted on her
drinking; and in the afternoon he compelled her to sit by his side to
hear him converse upon subjects of religion, in the course of which,
however, he ridiculed everything sacred, and denied the existence of a
soul.
After supper he made six several attempts to ravish her within two
hours; but she repulsed him in such a determined manner, that he failed
in accomplishing his dishonourable purpose. On that night she lay with
Mrs. Harvey, but could get no rest, as she was in fear of renewed
insults from his lordship.
On the Monday morning she was told that she should see her father; and
having been supplied with a change of linen by Mrs. Griffenburg, she was
about mid-day hurried into a coach with Lord Baltimore, Dr. Griffenburg,
and the two women, and with them conveyed to Epsom, where, as we have
already said, his lordship had a country-seat. Here she was told that
resistance was useless, and that whatever objection she might make to
submit to his lordship's desires, force would be used if her consent was
not given. At supper she partook of some refreshment; and immediately
afterwards she was conducted to a bedchamber, accompanied by the two
women, who began to undress her. From weakness she was unable to make
much resistance; and from the same cause she was prevented from opposing
Lord Baltimore, who, it turned out, was in a bed which was in the
apartment, and who, in spite of her cries and entreaties, twice effected
his horrid purpose. In the morning Mrs. Harvey came to her, and she told
her what had passed; but the only answer which was given, was a desire
that she would make no more fuss, for that she had made noise enough
already. It would appear that after this the proceedings of his lordship
were, to a certain extent, acquiesced in by Miss Woodcock; but it was
not until several days had elapsed that she ascertained the name of the
person who had dishonoured her. On the afternoon on which she made this
discovery, the whole party returned to London, and Miss Woodcock was
there introduced to Madame Saunier, the governess of his lordship's
illegitimate children. On the next day his lordship gave her some money;
and when night advanced, directed that she should repair to his bed.
Having been permitted on the night before to sleep by herself, she
requested that the same favour might be again granted to her; but his
lordship's commands being positive that she should share his couch, she
consented on certain terms, which were fulfilled, while, according to
her statement, a crime of a still more atrocious nature was committed.
It may now be inquired whether no steps were taken by Miss Woodcock's
friends in order to procure her discovery, and her return to the roof of
her parents; and it appears that some circumstances having been learned
which induced them to guess the real place of her concealment, Davis,
her lover, proceeded to Southampton-row, Bloomsbury, where his
lordship's house was situated, and while watching there saw her at the
window. He immediately communicated the discovery which he had made to
her father, and the advice of Mr. Watts, an attorney, having been taken,
a writ of _habeas corpus_ was obtained. These proceedings, however, were
heard of by his lordship, and he conversed with Miss Woodcock on the
subject, and, as she alleged, extorted from her a promise to declare
that she had remained at his house voluntarily and of her own free-will,
promising to recompense her by settling upon her an annuity for life.
She in consequence wrote a letter to her father to that effect, which
was delivered by one of his lordship's servants; and on Mr. Watts'
proceeding to the house to serve the writ of _habeas corpus_, she made a
declaration to him having the same tendency. Lord Baltimore then said
that it was necessary that she should go before Lord Mansfield and make
a similar statement, and she was accordingly conveyed to his lordship's
house in Bloomsbury-square. They were there shown into different
apartments; and Miss Woodcock's friends having heard of the proceeding,
were also in attendance in an ante-chamber, where they awaited the
result of the conference.
The young lady, on being examined by Lord Mansfield, expressed her
willingness to remain with Lord Baltimore, but desired to see her
friends first. She was then conducted to the room where her father was
awaiting the conclusion of her examination; and there the first question
which she asked was, "Who is Lord Mansfield?" Having been satisfied upon
this head, and also that he had the power to set her at liberty, she
desired to see him again, and then said that she wished to go home with
her father, and that she would no longer remain with Lord Baltimore.
On Miss Woodcock's discharge, Mr. Cay, a baker in Whitecross-street (to
whom her father had delivered the two hundred pound bank note which had
been enclosed in the letter by Lord Baltimore), conveyed the young lady
to Sir John Fielding, before whom she swore to the actual commission of
the rape by his lordship.
The two women, the coadjutors of his lordship, had been already taken
into custody, on the charge of decoying away the girl; and a warrant was
now issued for the apprehension of Lord Baltimore. His lordship,
however, secreted himself for the present, but surrendered himself to
the Court of King's Bench on the last day of Hilary Term, 1768; when the
two women being brought thither by _habeas corpus_, they were all
admitted to bail, in order for trial at Kingston, in Surrey, because the
crime was alleged to have been committed at his lordship's seat at
Epsom.
In the interim Miss Woodcock went to the house of Mr. Cay, in
Whitecross-street; but not being properly accommodated there, she
proceeded to the house of a friend, where she lived in great privacy and
retirement till the time arrived for the trial of the offending parties.
Bills of indictment being found against Lord Baltimore and the two
women, they were all brought to trial before Lord Chief Baron Smythe;
and, after the evidence against them had been given, in substance as may
be collected from the preceding narrative, Lord Baltimore made the
following defence, which was read in Court by Mr. Hamersley, solicitor
to his lordship:--
"MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN,--I have put myself upon my country, in hopes
that prejudice and clamour will avail nothing in this place, where it is
the privilege of the meanest of the king's subjects to be presumed
innocent until his guilt has been made appear by legal evidence. I wish
I could say that I had been treated abroad with the same candour. I have
been loaded with obloquy; the most malignant libels have been
circulated, and every other method which malice could devise has been
taken to create general prejudice against me. I thank God that, under
such circumstances, I have had firmness and resolution enough to meet my
accusers face to face, and provoke an inquiry into my conduct. _Hic
murus aheneus esto,--nil conscire sibi._ The charge against me, and
against these poor people who are involved with me, because they might
otherwise have been just witnesses of my innocence, is in its nature
very easy to be made, and hard to be disproved. The accuser has the
advantage of supporting it by a direct and positive oath; the defence
can only be collected from circumstances.
"My defence is composed, then, of a variety of circumstances, all
tending to show the falsity of this charge, the absurdity of it, the
improbability that it could be true. It will be laid before the jury,
under the direction of my counsel; and I have the confidence of an
innocent man, that it will be manifest to your lordship, the jury, and
the whole world, that the story told by this woman is a perversion of
truth in every particular. What could induce her to make such a charge,
I can only suspect:--Very soon after she came to my house upon a
representation to me that her father was distressed, I sent him a
considerable sum of money: whether the ease with which that money was
obtained from me might suggest the idea, as a means of obtaining a
larger sum of money, or whether it was thought necessary to destroy me,
in order to establish the character of the girl to the world, I know
not; but I do aver, upon the word of a man of honour, that there is no
truth in anything which has been said or sworn of my having offered
violence to this girl. I ever held such brutality in abhorrence. I am
totally against all force; and for me to have forced this woman,
considering my weak state of health, and my strength, is not only a
moral, but a physical impossibility. She is, as to bodily strength,
stronger than I am. Strange opinions, upon subjects foreign to this
charge, have been falsely imputed to me, to inflame this accusation.
Libertine as I am represented, I hold no such opinions. Much has been
said against me, that I seduced this girl from her parents: seduction is
not the point of this charge; but I do assure your lordship and the
jury, this part of the case has been aggravated exceedingly beyond the
truth. If I have been in any degree to blame, I am sure I have
sufficiently atoned for every indiscretion, which a weak attachment to
this unworthy woman may have led me into, by having suffered the
disgrace of being exposed as a criminal at the bar in the county which
my father had the honour to represent in parliament, and where I had
some pretensions to have attained the same honour, had that sort of an
active life been my object.
"I will take up no more of your lordship's time than to add that, if I
had been conscious of the guilt now imputed to me, I could have kept
myself and my fortune out of the reach of the laws of this country. I am
a citizen of the world; I could have lived anywhere: but I love my own
country, and submit to its laws, resolving that my innocence should be
justified by the laws. I now, by my own voluntary act, by surrendering
myself to the Court of King's Bench, stake, upon the verdict of twelve
men, my life, my fortune, and, what is dearer to me, my honour.
"March 25, 1768."
"BALTIMORE."
The substance of the defence of Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey
consisted principally in alleging that Miss Woodcock had consented to
all that had passed, and that no force had been used towards her either
by Lord Baltimore or themselves.
The whole of the case having now been heard, Lord Chief Baron Smythe, in
a clear and lucid manner, proceeded to sum up the case to the jury.
Having pointed out to them the law of the case, as it affected the
charge against the prisoners, and their defence, his lordship proceeded
to recapitulate the evidence which had been produced, in doing which he
was occupied during a period of three hours. He concluded by
saying,--"In point of law, the fact is fully proved on my lord and the
two other prisoners, if you believe the evidence of Sarah Woodcock. It
is a crime which in its nature can only be proved by the woman on whom
it is committed; for she only can tell whether she consented or no: it
is, as my lord observes, very easy to be made, and hard to be disproved;
and the defence can only be collected from circumstances; from these you
must judge whether her evidence is or is not to be believed. Lord Hale,
in his 'History of the Pleas of the Crown,' lays down the rules:--1. If
complaint is not made soon after the injury is supposed to be received;
2. If it is not followed by a recent prosecution; a strong presumption
arises that the complaint is malicious. She has owned the injury was
received December 22; the complaint was not made till December 29; but
she has accounted for it in the manner you have heard. The strong part
of the case on behalf of the prisoners is her not complaining when she
was at Lord Mansfield's, the supreme magistrate of the kingdom in
criminal matters. You have heard how she has explained and accounted for
her conduct in that particular, which you will judge of. Upon the whole,
if you believe that she made the discovery as soon as she knew she had
an opportunity of doing it, and that her account is true, you will find
all the prisoners Guilty; if you believe that she did not make the
discovery as soon as she had an opportunity, and from thence, or other
circumstances, are not satisfied her account is true, you will find them
all Not guilty: for if he is not guilty, they cannot be so; for they
cannot be accessory to a crime which was never committed."
After an absence of an hour and twenty minutes, the jury returned with a
verdict that the prisoners were not guilty.
This singular affair was tried at Kingston, in Surrey, on the 26th of
March, 1768.
It would be useless to offer any observations upon this extraordinary
case. From the verdict returned by the jury, there ought to exist no
doubt of the innocence of the persons charged of the offence imputed to
them; but although Lord Baltimore and his companions were acquitted of
the charge of rape, there can be little doubt that the ruin of the
unfortunate girl Woodcock--even if what was admitted by his lordship
were only true--was the effect of a vile conspiracy among the prisoners
to sacrifice her to the libertine passions of his lordship.
JOHN WILKES, ESQ.
CONVICTED OF SEDITION AND BLASPHEMY.
The year 1768 will ever be memorable in the annals of English history on
account of the murders and mischief committed by a deluded mob,
stimulated by the writings and opposition to the government of John
Wilkes, Esq. an alderman of London, and member of parliament for
Aylesbury.
The most scandalous and offensive of his writings were in a periodical
publication called the "North Briton," No. 45; and a pamphlet entitled
"An Essay on Woman[12]." The "North Briton" was of a political nature;
the other a piece of obscenity: the one calculated to set the people
against the government; the other to corrupt their morals.
Amongst the ministers who found themselves more personally attacked in
the "North Briton" was Samuel Martin, Esq. member for Camelford. This
gentleman found his character, as secretary to the Treasury, so
vilified, that he called the writer to the field. He had before been
engaged in a duel with Lord Talbot, and had then escaped unhurt, but Mr.
Martin shot him; and the wound proved so dangerous that he lay uncertain
of recovering during several days, and was confined to his house for
some weeks.
His sufferings, however, did not end here, for the attorney-general
filed informations against him as author of "The North Briton," No.
45[13], and the pamphlet entitled "An Essay on Woman." On these charges
he was apprehended; and his papers having been seized and inspected, he
was committed prisoner to the Tower, but was soon admitted to bail.
Before his trial came on, Mr. Wilkes fled to France, under the pretext
of restoring his health, which had suffered from his wound, and the
harassing measures taken against him by the secretaries of state, Lord
Egremont and Lord Halifax; and no sooner was he out of the kingdom, than
the ministers proceeded to outlawry, dismissed him from his command as
colonel of the Buckinghamshire militia, and expelled him from his seat
in parliament.
While in Paris, he was challenged to fight by a Captain Forbes, on
account of the reflections which he had cast upon the birthplace of the
gallant captain, Scotland; but he declined the invitation, alleging that
he had still an affair to settle with Lord Egremont before he could
venture to take any other duel upon his hands. The death of that noble
lord, however, left him free to fight; but on his writing to accept the
challenge, his antagonist was not to be found. Mr. Wilkes subsequently
returned to London, and gave notice that he should appear to answer the
charges preferred against him on a certain day; and then having appeared
in his place, as an alderman, in Guildhall, on his return, the mob took
the horses from his carriage and dragged it to his house, crying "Wilkes
and liberty!" On the 21st of February 1764, the trial of Mr. Wilkes,
upon the accusations alleged against him, came on before Lord Mansfield,
and he was found guilty on both charges, subject to arguments upon
certain points as to the validity of his apprehension, the seizure of
his papers, and the judgment of outlawry which had been obtained against
him. The discussions preliminary to these arguments occupied the courts
at various times during a space of two years; and in the mean time, the
popularity of Mr. Wilkes and the outrages of the mob increased daily.
At length, on the 27th of April 1768, Mr. Wilkes having been served with
a writ of _Capias utlagatum_, was brought to the floor of the Court of
King's Bench in the custody of the proper officer, in order that the
question of his being admitted to bail might be considered. A long
argument took place, but it terminated in favour of the crown, and Mr.
Wilkes was conveyed to the King's Bench prison. On his way thither the
mob seized the coach in which he was carried, and taking the horses from
it, dragged him to a public-house in Spitalfields, where they permitted
him to alight; but at about eleven o'clock at night he effected his
escape from his over-zealous friends, and proceeding to the prison,
immediately surrendered himself into lawful custody. On the following
day he was visited by many of his friends; and a vast mob having
collected outside the prison, it was feared that some outrage would be
committed. All remained quiet, however, until night, when the rails by
which the prison wall was surrounded were pulled up and burned as a
bonfire, and the inhabitants of Southwark were compelled to illuminate
their houses; but upon the arrival of a captain's guard of soldiers, the
crowd dispersed without doing any further mischief.
On the 28th of April the case of outlawry was determined; and Mr.
Serjeant Glynn having appeared on the part of Mr. Wilkes, and the
Attorney-General for the crown, a learned and lengthy argument was
heard, the result of which was a unanimous expression on the part of the
court that the outlawry must be reversed. The general warrant on which
the accused had been apprehended was next considered and declared
illegal; but the counsel for the crown then immediately moved that
judgment might be passed upon Mr. Wilkes upon the several convictions
which had taken place. This was answered by a motion on his part in
arrest of judgment, and the following Thursday was fixed upon for
hearing the point argued.
In the mean time a mob had remained assembled round the prison whom no
efforts of the civil force could disperse; but at length the justices
appeared, followed by a troop of soldiers, determined at once to put an
end to the alarming nuisance which had so long existed. All attempts to
procure the separation of the crowd by fair means having failed, the
Riot Act was read; and this also having no effect, the soldiers were
ordered to fire. The command was instantly obeyed, and many persons were
killed and dangerously wounded, some of whom were passing at a distance
from the scene of confusion.
At length the day arrived on which the last effort was to be made to get
rid of the charges against Mr. Wilkes; but the arguments for an arrest
of judgment, though carried on with great ingenuity, would not hold, and
he was found to have been legally convicted of writing the libels. For
that in the "North Briton" he was fined five hundred pounds, and
sentenced to two years' imprisonment in the King's Bench prison; and for
the "Essay on Woman" five hundred pounds more, a further imprisonment of
twelve months, and to find security for his good behaviour for seven
years.
Previously to his imprisonment Mr. Wilkes had been elected member of
parliament for Middlesex, when the address which he published to his
constituents contained the following passages:--"In the whole progress
of ministerial vengeance against me for several years, I have shown, to
the conviction of all mankind, that my enemies have trampled on the
laws, and have been actuated by the spirit of tyranny and arbitrary
power.
"The _general warrant_ under which I was first apprehended has been
adjudged illegal. The _seizure_ of my papers was condemned judicially
[Illustration: _Wilkes' Riots._]
The _outlawry_, so long the topic of violent abuse, is at last declared
to have been contrary to law; and on the ground first taken by my
friend, Mr. Serjeant Glynn, is formally reversed."
The mob after the election proceeded to the commission of the most
violent outrages. They broke the windows of Lord Bute, the prime
minister, and of the Mansion House, including even those of the lady
mayoress's bedchamber, and forced the inhabitants of the metropolis to
illuminate their houses, crying out "Wilkes and liberty!" and all who
refused to echo it back were knocked down.
A stone was thrown by this daring mob at the Polish Count Rawotski,
which he dexterously caught in his hand, the windows of his carriage in
which he sat being fortunately down; and his lordship looking out and
smiling, he received no other violence.
The outrages of the populace were too many to be enumerated; several
innocent people were killed, and vast numbers wounded. They broke
windows without number, destroyed furniture, and even insulted royalty
itself.
These disgraceful tumults were not confined to the metropolis; and the
lenity, or, as some did not hesitate to assert, the timidity of the
government, spread disaffection into all classes of mechanics, who,
thinking the time at hand when they might exact what wages they pleased,
perhaps even beyond their masters' profits, struck work.
The sailors, following the example of the landsmen, went in a body of
many thousands, with drums beating and colours flying, to St. James's
Palace, and presented a petition to the king, praying a "Relief of
Grievances." Two days afterwards they assembled in much greater numbers,
and proceeded as far as Palace Yard, in order to petition Parliament for
an increase of wages; when they were addressed by two gentlemen standing
on the top of a hackney-coach, who told them that their petition could
not be immediately attended to, but that it would be considered and
answered in due time; whereupon the tars gave three cheers, and for a
while dispersed. A short time afterwards, however, they re-assembled at
Limehouse, and boarding several outward-bound vessels, seized their
crews, pretending that they would not suffer any ships to sail until
their wages were increased. The watermen, the Spitalfields weavers, the
sawyers, the hatters, and the labouring classes in the country, all
combined in the attempt to procure their wages to be raised; but while
in London the confusion was nearly universal, in the country its effects
were confined to a few districts, where some interested persons managed
to excite the peaceably-disposed people to acts of outrage.
They soon discovered the error into which they had fallen, however; and
a few of them having suffered execution, and others some severe
imprisonments, they returned to their duty.
The folly of popular commotion was never better exemplified than in the
case of Wilkes, whose patriotism was accidental and mercenary; for his
letters to his daughter clearly show the contempt with which he regarded
the enthusiasm in his favour, and the object he had in view in exciting
hatred against the government. Many of the deluded people who shouted
"Wilkes and liberty!" were severely injured in the riots; and others
were subsequently punished by the outraged laws of the country. In a
short time the commotion subsided, and the author of them sunk into
comparative obscurity, in which he continued until his death in 1797, at
the age of seventy years.
MUNGO CAMPBELL.
CONVICTED OF THE MURDER OF THE EARL OF EGLINTON.
This melancholy case arose out of the existing system of game-laws.
The lamented Mr. Campbell was descended from the noble family of Argyle,
and was born at Ayr in Scotland. His father was an eminent merchant--had
been mayor of the town, and a justice of the peace; but having no less
than twenty-four children, and meeting with many losses in his
commercial transactions, it was impossible for him to make any adequate
provision for his family; so that on his death, the relations took care
of the children, and educated them in the liberal manner which is
customary in Scotland. The unhappy subject of this narrative was
protected by an uncle, who gave him a learned education; but this
generous friend dying when the youth was about eighteen years of age,
left him sixty pounds a year, and earnestly recommended him to the care
of his other relations.
The young man was a finished scholar, but seemed averse to make choice
of any of the learned professions. His attachment appeared to be to the
military life, in which many of his ancestors had distinguished
themselves. He soon followed the bent of his inclinations, and entered
as a cadet in the royal regiment of Scots Greys, then commanded by his
relation, General Campbell, and served during two campaigns, at his own
expense. Being disappointed in obtaining promotion, however, he returned
to Scotland in the year 1745, and Lord Loudon, to whom he was distantly
related, having the command of the loyal Highlanders, who exhibited so
much bravery in their opposition to the rebellion, Mr. Campbell joined
that regiment, and his exertions were equally creditable to his loyalty
and his courage.
After the battle of Culloden he was appointed, through the
instrumentality of Lord Loudon, to fill the situation of an officer of
excise, in Ayrshire; and notwithstanding the unpleasant nature of his
employment, he succeeded, by his courtesy, in obtaining the good-will of
all his neighbours, all of whom, with the exception of the Earl of
Eglinton, gave him permission to kill game on their estates. It was his
misfortune to live immediately adjoining the property of his lordship;
and it would appear that the noble earl having once detected him in
killing a hare, warned him not to commit a similar offence again. Mr.
Campbell apologised for the trespass of which he had been guilty, and
excused himself by stating that he was in search of smugglers, and that
having suddenly started the hare, he was surprised, and without
thinking, he shot it. The ill-will which was raised in his lordship's
mind by this circumstance, was in nowise removed by some proceedings
which Mr. Campbell was compelled to take against Bartleymore, one of his
servants, for smuggling; and it appears that his lordship's death was
eventually attributable to the steps which he took at the instigation of
this very person.
About ten in the morning of the 24th of October 1769, Campbell took his
gun, and went out with another officer, with a view to detect smugglers.
Mr. Campbell took with him a licence for shooting, which had been given
him by Dr. Hunter, though they had no particular design of killing any
game, but intended to shoot a woodcock if they should see one.
They crossed a small part of Lord Eglinton's estate, in order to reach
the sea-shore, where they intended to walk; but when they arrived at
this spot it was near noon, and Lord Eglinton came up in his coach,
attended by Mr. Wilson, a carpenter, who was working for him, and
followed by four servants on horseback. On approaching the coast his
lordship met Bartleymore, who told him that there were some poachers at
a distance. Mr. Wilson would have endeavoured to draw off his lordship's
notice from such a business; but Bartleymore saying that Campbell was
among the poachers, Lord Eglinton quitted his coach, and mounting a led
horse, rode to the spot, where he saw Campbell and the other officer,
whose name was Brown. His lordship said, "Mr. Campbell, I did not expect
to have found you so soon again on my grounds, after your promise when
you shot the hare. I must desire that you will give me your gun." Mr.
Campbell refused to deliver up his property, because he said that he was
not employing it in an unlawful manner, on which Lord Eglinton rode
towards him, apparently with the intention of taking it from him. Mr.
Campbell on this raised his gun, and retreating, presented it at his
lordship's body; but the latter still followed him, and smiling, asked
him if he meant to shoot him. He said that he would if he did not keep
off, and then Lord Eglinton desired that his gun should be brought to
him from the carriage. In the interim, his lordship dismounted, and
going close to Mr. Campbell, again required that he should deliver up
the weapon which he carried, but the latter declared that he had a right
to carry it, and that he would deliver it to no man, and repeated that
his lordship must therefore keep off, unless he wished to be shot.
Bartleymore now interfered; and Mr. Campbell stumbling against a stone,
fell, and Lord Eglinton then advanced as if to seize him. In a moment,
however, Mr. Campbell raised himself on his elbow, and lodged the
contents of his piece in the noble earl's left breast. His lordship
directly cried out that he was killed, and Mr. Campbell was seized; but
his lordship desired that no violence should be used towards him.
Lord Eglinton's seat was about three miles from the place where this
fatal event happened; and his servants put him into the carriage to
convey him home. In the mean time Campbell's hands were tied behind him;
and he was conducted to the town of Saltcoats, the place of his former
station as an exciseman.
His lordship, after languishing for ten hours, died; and Mr. Campbell
was then committed to the jail of Ayr to await his trial.
Upon his being arraigned upon the indictment preferred against him,
various arguments were urged in his favour. It was said--"That the gun
went off by accident, and therefore it could be no more than casual
homicide.
"Secondly--That, supposing it had been fired with an intention to kill,
yet the act was altogether justifiable, because of the violent
provocation he had received; and he was doing no more than defending his
life and property.
"Thirdly--It could not be murder, because it could not be supposed that
Mr. Campbell had any malice against his lordship, and the action itself
was too sudden to admit of deliberation."
The counsel for the prosecution urged in answer, in the first place,
"That it was certain malice was implied, in consequence of Campbell's
presenting the gun to his lordship, and telling him that, unless he kept
off, he would shoot him.
"Secondly--That there was no provocation given by the earl besides
words, and words could not be construed a provocation in law.
"Thirdly--The earl had a right to seize his gun, in virtue of several
acts of parliament, which were the established laws of the land, to
which every subject is obliged to be obedient."
After repeated debates between the lawyers of Scotland, a day was at
length appointed for the trial, which commenced on the 27th of February
1770, before the High Court of Justiciary; and, the jury having found
Mr. Campbell guilty, he was sentenced to die.
The Lord Justice Clerk, before he pronounced the solemn sentence,
addressed himself to the convict, advising him to make the most devout
preparation for death, as all hopes of pardon would be precluded, from
the nature of his offence.
The prisoner conducted himself throughout the whole proceedings with the
utmost calmness, and took leave of his friends in the evening with great
apparent cheerfulness; and, retiring to his apartment, he begged the
favour of a visit from them on the following day. In the morning of the
28th of February 1770, however, he was found dead, hanging to the end of
a form which he had set upright, and a silk handkerchief fastened round
his neck.
The following lines were found upon the floor, close to the body:--
"Farewell, vain world! I've had enough of thee,
And now am careless what thou say'st of me:
Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear:
My cares are past; my heart lies easy here.
What faults they find in me take care, to shun;
And look at home--enough is to be done."
JAMES ATTAWAY AND RICHARD BAILEY.
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
The crime for which these men so justly suffered was committed in a
manner most artful and daring.
About nine o'clock in the evening they went to the house of Thomas Le
Merr, Esq. in Bedford-row, London, a public and genteel street. They had
received information that Mr. Le Merr was in the country, and on their
knocking at the door, it was opened by a footman, who was alone in the
house, to whom Bailey delivered a letter, saying it was for his master.
Before the servant could answer, they rushed in, shut the street door,
and stabbed him in the belly with a dagger. They then drew cords from
their pockets, tied the bleeding man's hands behind his back, and
dragged him down stairs into the kitchen, and there bringing the rope
about his neck, and across his face, in such a manner that it went
through his mouth, which it kept open, and making it fast behind, thus
bound, they forced him into a cellar, and bolted him in. In a few
minutes one of the villains returned, asking if he was fast; and being
answered, as well as the poor man could speak, that he was secure
enough, they broke open the pantry, where the plate-chest was kept,
forced the lock, and deliberately packed up its contents. In the mean
time, however, the wounded man gnawed the rope in his mouth, and soon
liberated himself. He then forced open the door which confined him, and
got into the area, over which was a skylight, and, apprehensive that he
was bleeding to death, he made an effort, by climbing up a pipe, to get
through it, and give an alarm. In effecting this he stuck by the middle,
and near his wound, a considerable time, but was not heard by the
thieves, who were busily employed in securing their plunder. Making a
last exertion, he succeeded in raising himself up, and, dragging the
rope after him, he got to the stables behind the house, and called for
help as loud as his almost exhausted strength would permit. Five or six
grooms immediately came to his assistance; and, learning the cause of
his alarm, they seized the robbers as they were coming out of the house;
thus fortunately saving the poor fellow's life and Mr. Le Merr's
property.
On this evidence the prisoners were subsequently found guilty, the
wounded man being able to appear in court against them, and were
executed at Tyburn, July 4, 1770.
LEVI WEIL, ASHER WEIL, JACOB LAZARUS, AND SOLOMON PORTER.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF JOHN SLOW.
This daring violation of the law, which long roused the public
indignation against the whole Jewish people, happened in the house of
Mrs. Hutchings, in the King's-road, Chelsea, who was a farmer's widow,
left by her husband in good circumstances, and with three children, two
boys and a girl.
On a Saturday evening, just as the Jewish Sabbath was ended, a numerous
gang of Jews assembled in Chelsea Fields; and having lurked about there
until ten o'clock, at that hour went to the house of Mrs. Hutchings, and
demanded admittance. The family had all retired to rest, with the
exception of Mrs. Hutchings and her two female servants, and being
alarmed by the unseasonable request of the applicants, they proceeded in
a body to know their business. The door was no sooner opened, however,
than a number of fellows,--all of whom had the appearance of
Jews,--rushed in, and seizing the terrified females, threatened them
with instant death in the event of their offering any resistance. Mrs.
Hutchings, being a woman of considerable muscular strength, for a time
opposed them; but her antagonists having soon overpowered her, they tied
her petticoats over her head, and proceeded to secure the servants. The
girls having been tied back to back, five of the fellows proceeded to
ransack the house, while the remainder of the gang remained below to
guard the prisoners. Having visited the rooms occupied by the children
of Mrs. Hutchings in turn, the ruffians proceeded to the apartment in
which two men, employed as labourers on the farm, named John Slow and
William Stone, were lying undisturbed by the outcry which had been
raised below. It was soon determined that these men were likely to prove
mischievous, and that they must be murdered; and Levi Weil, a Jewish
physician, who was one of the party, and was the most sanguinary villain
of his gang, aimed a blow at the breast of Stone, intended for his
death, but which only stunned him. Slow started up, and the villains
cried "Shoot him! shoot him!" and a pistol was instantly fired at him,
and he fell, exclaiming, "Lord have mercy on me! I am murdered!"
They dragged the wounded man out of the room to the head of the stairs;
but in the mean time Stone, recovering his senses, jumped out of bed,
and escaped to the roof of the house, through the window. The thieves
now descended and plundered the house of all the plate they could
discover; but finding no money, they went to Mrs. Hutchings, and
threatened to murder her if she did not disclose the place of its
concealment. She gave them her watch, and was afterwards compelled to
give up a purse containing 65_l._, with which they immediately retired.
Mrs. Hutchings now directly set her female servants at liberty, and
having gone in search of the men, she found Slow, who declared he was
dying, and dropped insensible on the floor. He languished until the
following afternoon, and then died of the wounds which he had received.
It was a considerable time before the perpetrators of this most
diabolical outrage were discovered; but they were at length given up to
justice by one of their accomplices, named Isaacs, who was a German Jew,
and who, reduced to the greatest necessity, was tempted by the prospect
of reward to impeach his fellows. It then turned out that the gang
consisted of eight persons, who were headed by the physician
before-mentioned. Dr. Weil had been educated in a superior manner. He
had studied physic in the university of Leyden, where he was admitted to
the degree of doctor in that faculty; and, then coming to England, he
practised in London, with no inconsiderable degree of success, and was
always known by the name of Doctor Weil; but so destitute was he of all
principle, and such was the depravity of his heart, that he determined
to engage in the dangerous practice of robbery; and, having formed this
fatal resolution, he wrote to Amsterdam, to some poor Jews, to come to
England, and assist him in his intended depredations on the public; and
at the same time informed them that in England large sums were to be
acquired by the practice of theft.
The inconsiderate men no sooner received Dr. Weil's letter than they
procured a passport from the English consul, and, embarking in the
Harwich packet-boat, arrived in England.
They lost no time in repairing to London, and, immediately attending Dr.
Weil, he informed them that his plan was, that they should go out in the
day-time, and minutely survey such houses near London as might probably
afford a good booty, and then attack them at night.
At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in the month of December 1771,
Levi Weil, Asher Weil, Marcus Hartagh, Jacob Lazarus, Solomon Porter,
and Lazarus Harry, were indicted for the felony and murder
above-mentioned, when the two of the name of Weil, with Jacob Lazarus
and Solomon Porter, were capitally convicted; while Marcus Hartagh and
Lazarus Harry were acquitted for want of evidence.
These men, as is customary in all cases of murder, when it can be made
convenient to the Court, were tried on a Friday, and on the following
day they were anathematised in the synagogue. As their execution was to
take place on the Monday following, one of the rabbis went to them in
the press-yard of Newgate, and delivered to each of them a Hebrew book;
but declined attending them to the place of death, nor even prayed with
them at the time of his visit.
They were attended to Tyburn, the place of execution, by immense crowds
of people, who were anxious to witness the exit of wretches, whose
crimes had been so much the object of public notice.
Having prayed together, and sung a hymn in the Hebrew language, they
were launched into eternity, December 9, 1771.
After the bodies had hung the customary time, they were conveyed to
Surgeons' Hall to be dissected.
JAMES BOLLAND.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The adventures of this fellow exhibit him to have been a person of a
most profligate disposition. By means of his employment as a bailiff, he
obtained the custody of great numbers of unfortunate debtors, whom it
became his entire occupation to fleece of any small property which might
be left in their possession at the time of their incarceration. Bailiffs
at the present day are not much esteemed as persons of respectable
character, or whose mode of life is at all calculated to raise them in
the opinions of their fellows; but, judging from the case of Bolland,
the race appears to have much improved since the year 1772.
Bolland was the son of a butcher in Whitechapel, and having been brought
up to his father's trade, he opened a shop on his own account, almost
immediately on the termination of his apprenticeship. His ideas of life,
however, did not permit him to pay that attention to his business which
it demanded; and having spent no small portion of his time and money in
the society of bailiffs, thief-takers, and blacklegs, he at length found
himself tottering on the eve of bankruptcy. To avoid a catastrophe which
might have damaged him in the estimation of his companions, he now sold
off his effects; and in order to indulge a taste which he appeared to
have imbibed from his recent associations, he procured himself to be
appointed one of the officers of the sheriff of Surrey, and opened a
"sponging-house," or receptacle for newly-arrested debtors, at the
bottom of Falcon-court, near St. George's Church, Southwark. The
sponging-houses of the last century, as it may be well supposed, had no
better qualities to recommend them than those of the present day, and
that of Mr. Bolland appeared to outvie its fellows in the wretchedness
and poverty of its equipments. It was, however, speedily inhabited by a
number of wretched debtors, and now came the opportunity for its
proprietor to exercise his power of discrimination between those who
were unable to contribute to his benefit, and those whose purses even
yet afforded the possibility of his squeezing from them a few golden
drops. Those whose money was all spent were not long permitted to remain
in his "establishment," but were sent off to the county prison as soon
as the discovery of their poverty was made; but those who could afford
to pay for their accommodations, and besides to enter with him into the
amusements of cards and dice, were welcomed as honoured visitors, so
long as their money lasted, until, in order to avoid further imposition,
they demanded to be conveyed to prison, or until the exigency of the
writs upon which they had been arrested rendered their removal
necessary.
It may be readily imagined that no occasion was allowed by Bolland to
slip, on which, either by the exercise of fraud or artifice, he could
procure money from his unfortunate guests; and situated as he was--the
master of the house, all efforts to oppose his will were of course
unavailing so long as his dupes remained under his roof. But while his
frauds at home were carried on with the most daring effrontery, he was
no less active abroad, in endeavouring to "raise the wind." He became a
horse-dealer, and a bill-discounter; and in both of these professions
ample opportunities for the exercise of all sorts of chicanery were
afforded. At length, however, his name and his infamous practices became
so notorious that his business forsook him--his employers justly
imagining that when his conduct was so villanous, they might be justly
reflected upon for encouraging him--and with his business, the means of
meeting his numerous and very heavy expenses declined. His creditors
became clamorous, and a commission of bankruptcy was sued out by a
friend, but not until he had managed to gull the public to a large
extent, and to secrete a very considerable quantity of valuable effects.
Having been "whitewashed" of his old debts, upon his discharge from
prison he managed once again to enter into business, and having procured
new bondsmen, he was appointed an officer to the sheriff of Middlesex,
and opened a sponging-house in the Savoy. His successes in his new
avocation were by no means so great as those which he had experienced in
his late employment in Surrey; but he managed to eke out the means of
existence between his house and his successes at play in the various
billiard-rooms in the vicinity of his dwelling.
At length, however, having by his fraudulent schemes involved himself in
almost innumerable difficulties, he determined upon once more "passing
the court," to get rid of his liabilities; and the necessary proceedings
were taken to procure a second commission of bankruptcy. During his
sojourn in the Fleet Prison, whither, like many of his late victims, he
was now obliged to go, he formed acquaintances by no means calculated to
improve his character for respectability, nor to induce him to adopt any
new mode of life. On his discharge, through the instrumentality of some
of his prison friends, he procured himself once again to be appointed a
sheriff's officer of Middlesex, and he now commenced business in Great
Shire Line, Fleet-street. If his exertions as a bailiff in the Savoy had
failed in procuring for him those returns which his situation might lead
him to expect, he had now no reason to complain of want of patronage.
His acquaintance among the "sharp practice" attorneys had been lately
increasing, and he was soon almost fully employed by them. His house was
again rendered the means of procuring for him the most extravagant
returns for his outlay on behalf of his prisoners, and his ingenuity and
impudence supplied any deficiency which might have before appeared in
his income.
One or two instances of the devices to which he had recourse may prove
interesting. Having been employed by a gentleman to arrest a person who
was his debtor to the amount of three hundred pounds on a bill of
exchange, and who held the situation of captain of an East Indiaman,
Bolland immediately proceeded to make the necessary inquiries respecting
his prey. He learned that his vessel was about to sail in the course of
a very few days; but, determined to be beforehand with him, he caused
him to be immediately arrested and carried to his lock-up house. His
employer, in the mean time, had gone out of town, and therefore looked
for no immediate account from the officer; but the latter having
procured the debt and costs from his prisoner, suffered him immediately
to depart. Some months elapsed before the plaintiff in the suit returned
to London, and then he demanded to know what success the bailiff had had
in procuring the payment of the debt; but he was assured by him that the
vessel had sailed before the writ was lodged in his hands, and that all
his efforts to procure the money had been unavailing. He then tendered a
charge of the costs which had been incurred, and the amount having been
paid, he walked off. His cheat was soon destined to be discovered,
however; for the captain having returned, a writ was lodged in the hands
of another officer, by whom he was a second time arrested. The result
may be easily imagined: Bolland's receipt for the debt and costs, dated
eighteen months before, was produced, and the prisoner was at once set
at liberty. Proceedings were then immediately instituted against our
hero, and after a long course of opposition to the law, through which he
imagined that he would not be followed, he was compelled to refund the
money which he had so dishonestly obtained.
The following case shows that he did not always come off the
winner:--The custom of putting in sham bail has long been well known;
and although recent enactments of the legislature have put an end to
this system, founded on perjury and fraud, the "men of straw" who
formerly paraded Westminster Hall, ready to swear that they were worth
any amount, and who were easily recognised by the straw which hung out
of their shoes, are yet well remembered. Bolland, in the course of his
professional avocations, had frequent necessity for the use of persons
of this description; and he had gone so far as to hire two men for the
exclusive use of his establishment, whom he had attired in something
like decency, for the sake of giving his transactions an air of
respectability. Having upon one occasion accompanied his servants to a
public-house in Covent Garden, to regale them after a "good hit," he was
surprised to see them suddenly carried off by two Bow-street runners on
a charge of highway-robbery. At the ensuing Old Bailey Sessions, they
were put upon their trial charged with the offence alleged against them,
and a verdict of conviction having been recorded, they were sentenced to
be hanged. Bolland, in his capacity of sheriff's officer, was compelled
to accompany them to the gallows, and had the mortification of seeing
them turned off, wearing the clothes which he had provided them, and
which, by custom, became the property of the executioner.
Another instance will show how far his villany extended. A Mrs.
Beauclerc was the wife of a captain in the navy, and her husband having
been detained at sea for a period much longer than was expected, she
contracted a debt amounting to thirty pounds. The creditor became
solicitous that the money should be repaid; but Mrs. Beauclerc being
devoid of the means of payment, and having no friend to whom in her
strait she could apply, was at length arrested by Bolland upon a writ
which had been placed in his hands for execution, and conveyed to Great
Shire Lane. Having tasted all the pleasures of a residence in a
sponging-house, she became anxious in a day or two for her release upon
any terms which she could make; and, upon her entreaty, Bolland procured
bail to be put in for her on a fee of five guineas being handed over.
She had scarcely obtained her liberty, however, before she was rendered
into custody by her bail, acting upon the advice of Bolland, who
represented that her circumstances were such as to render the
continuance of their liability in her behalf exceedingly dangerous.
Every post was expected to bring news of Captain Beauclerc, and with it
the means of discharging the debt; and the poor woman, terrified at an
incarceration in Newgate, with which she was threatened, was induced to
raise ten pounds, in order once more to procure her liberation upon
bail. The money being tendered, her jailor was too good a judge to
permit her to go at large without some further security; and he insisted
upon her signing a bond to confess judgment, levyable upon her
furniture, as a collateral security. Mrs. Beauclerc was ignorant of the
nature of such an instrument, and readily assented to everything that
was proposed; and her surprise may be imagined when, on the very day
after her liberation, a writ of execution was put into her house,
founded upon the judgment signed upon her confession, under which all
her goods were seized. Distracted at the prospect of her husband's
speedy return, and at his discovery of her destitution, in a state of
the wildest desperation she attempted to set fire to the house which she
occupied. Her offence was, from its nature, immediately discovered, and
the unhappy woman was dragged to Newgate to await her trial. Scarcely
had she become an inmate of the jail, the name of which she had before
so much dreaded, when her husband arrived in London, and was
horror-struck at discovering her situation. Every effort was made by him
on her behalf; but before the trial of his wretched wife came on, he was
suddenly arrested by Bolland, upon a writ sued out upon an affidavit of
debt, falsely sworn at the instance of the officer. His condition may be
easily supposed to have been heart-rending in the extreme; and his wife,
deprived of the assistance which she might have obtained had he been at
large, was convicted and received sentence of death. The captain, in
order as soon as possible to be able to render his wife that comfort
which her situation demanded, and to make some exertions in her behalf,
procured his liberation, though it was by paying the debt to which he
was sworn to be liable; and the case of his wife being represented to
the king, she was at length released from confinement, upon an
unconditional pardon which was granted to her.
By these and other artifices, and by the most unblushing effrontery,
Bolland succeeded at length in amassing a sum of two thousand pounds;
and the office of City-marshal becoming vacant, he determined, if
possible, to become its possessor by way of purchase. The situation, as
was then customary, was put up for sale, and after a spirited bidding,
he became the buyer at a price of two thousand four hundred pounds; and
having paid the deposit-money, and raised such portion of the whole sum
as he did not possess, he only waited the approval of the Court of
Aldermen at once to take upon himself the duties of the office. His
character had, however, became too notorious to permit of his being
allowed to assume a situation of so much importance in the City; and a
message was communicated to him by the recorder, in which the nature of
the grounds of the refusal were stated. An action was threatened upon
the breach of contract, as well as upon the defamation of his character,
conveyed by the message of the recorder; but finding that he was likely
to gain nothing by an opposition to the corporation of London, he
desisted from any further proceedings, and demanded the restitution of
the amount of the deposit money. But here he was doomed to suffer
another disappointment. The amount handed over had been attached by the
persons, who had become his sureties to the sheriff, on account of
certain liabilities which he had incurred to them under their bail
bonds, and it was detained in order to await the decision of a court of
law upon the claim.
Before the proceedings which arose upon the subject, however, had
terminated, Bolland was guilty of the offence for which he became liable
to trial, and was convicted and executed. It appears that his crime
consisted in the introduction of a false indorsement upon the back of a
bill of exchange, made by Bolland for the purpose of giving it a
fictitious value. A person named Jesson having discounted a bill for
him, they accidentally met at the George and Vulture Tavern, Cornhill,
on the day when it became due. Jesson demanded payment; but Bolland
declared that he was unprepared with the money requisite to take up the
instrument, and tendered another bill for one hundred pounds, accepted
by a Mr. Bradshaw, as an equivalent. Jesson, after some demur, consented
to take the bill; and Bolland indorsed it with his own name. This was
exclaimed against by Jesson, on the ground that it would not be
negociable if his name appeared on it; and he then took a knife, and,
according to Jesson's belief, scratched out the whole name, while, in
reality, he scratched out all except the initial, which he left, and to
which he added the letters "anks," so as to make the name "James Banks."
The bill was then handed back to Jesson; and on the following day it was
discounted for him by a person named Cardineaux. The latter subsequently
demanded to know who Banks was; and Bolland informed him that he was a
victualler in the neighbourhood of Rathbone Place, in an extensive and
reputable way of business. Before the bill became due it was again
discounted for Cardineaux by his banker, and Bradshaw, the acceptor,
became bankrupt. Cardineaux, in consequence, applied to Jesson to take
up the bill, and he in turn went to Bolland; but the latter positively
refused to have anything to do with it, and even went so far as to deny,
with the utmost effrontery, that he had ever seen it. At a subsequent
meeting between Cardineaux, Jesson, and Bolland, the latter endeavoured
to excuse himself from payment, by alleging that his name did not appear
on the instrument; but on his being called upon to explain how Banks's
indorsement came upon it, he desired that all further disputes might
subside, and that he would take it up. An investigation, however,
subsequently took place, and Jesson, annoyed at the double fraud which
had been practised upon him, took the advice of counsel as to what
should be done. An opinion was given that an indictment for forgery
would lie, and Bolland was taken into custody; but then immediately a
person, who stated his name to be Banks, applied to Cardineaux to take
up the bill. The one hundred pounds were accepted, and the supposed Mr.
Banks obtained a receipt for that amount; but on his demanding the
delivery of the bill, he was informed that it was detained in order to
be produced in evidence at the trial, after which he should be welcome
to it.
The prisoner was indicted at the ensuing Old Bailey sessions, when proof
of the facts which we have detailed having been given, and all efforts
to prove the existence of any such Mr. Banks as had been described
having failed, a verdict of Guilty was returned. Every effort was
subsequently made by the prisoner's counsel, on a motion in arrest of
judgment, to procure the verdict to be set aside, but in vain, and
sentence of death was passed upon him in the usual form.
On the morning of his execution, the unhappy wretch confessed that he
had been guilty of innumerable sins, but declared that he had no
fraudulent intention in indorsing the bill when he put it off.
He was hanged at Tyburn on the 18th of March 1772, and his body was in
the evening conveyed to Bunhill Fields, and there buried.
WILLIAM GRIFFITHS.
EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.
The person robbed in this case was the celebrated and unfortunate Dr.
Dodd, whom, a few years afterwards, Fate decreed to be handed at the
very spot where Griffiths suffered.
William Griffiths was a native of Shropshire, and followed the business
of husbandry till he had attained his eighteenth year, when he engaged
in a naval life, and remained near three years in the East Indies. The
ship was paid off on his return to England; and our hero receiving a
considerable sum for wages, spent his money, as sailors generally do, in
no very reputable company, at public-houses in Wapping and adjacent
parts.
Being now reduced to poverty, he was persuaded by two fellows named
David Evans and Timothy Johnson to join them in the commission of
highway robberies. Their efforts were attended with small success, and
Griffiths's reign was soon terminated. It appears that the Rev. Dr. Dodd
and his lady were returning from a visit they had been making to a
gentleman at St. Albans, but were detained on the way at Barnet, because
a post-chaise could not be immediately procured. Night was hastily
approaching when they left Barnet; but they proceeded unmolested until
they came near the turnpike at the extremity of Tottenham-Court-Road,
when three men called to the driver of the carriage, and threatened his
instant destruction if he did not stop. The postboy did not hesitate to
obey the summons; but no sooner was the carriage stopped than a pistol
was fired, the ball from which went through the front glass of the
chaise, but did not take any effect to the injury of the parties in it.
Griffiths then immediately opened the door of the chaise; on which the
doctor begged him to behave with civility, on account of the presence of
the lady. He delivered his purse, which contained only two guineas, and
a bill of exchange, and also gave the robber some loose silver.
Griffiths, having received the booty, decamped with the utmost
precipitation; but Dr. Dodd lost no time in repairing to Sir John
Fielding's office, where he and his lady gave so full a description of
the person of the principal robber, that he was immediately apprehended.
At the trial, the doctor declared that he had only come forward on
account of the pistol having been fired, but refused to swear to the
person of the prisoner. His lady, however, was more positive in her
evidence; and no doubt being left as to his identity, he was found
guilty and received sentence of death.
He afterwards confessed the crimes of which he had been guilty, and was
executed on the 20th of January 1773, apparently sincerely penitent for
his offences.
JOHN LEONARD.
EXECUTED FOR A RAPE.
The circumstances of this case are marked by peculiar atrocity. It
appears that a man named Vere, a sheriff's officer, having put an
execution into a house of Mr. Brailsford, in Petty France, Westminster,
he placed Leonard, Graves, and Gay, three of his followers, in
possession.
A young woman named Boss resided in an apartment on the second floor of
the house, and on the 15th June, 1773, the family of Mr. Brailsford
having all gone out in search of the means of getting rid of their
unwelcome visitants, she was left alone in the house with the three
officers. She was at work in her own room, when, about mid-day, Leonard
opened the door, and began in a familiar manner to speak to her. Terror
for a while deprived her of utterance; but finding him proceed to take
those liberties which female virtue can never suffer, she resisted,
screamed out, seized the villain by the throat, struggled until she was
exhausted, and then sank down, deprived of reason. In this situation her
assailant used her in the way that constituted the offence for which he
was justly executed.
A neighbour hearing the cries of the distressed female, and suspecting
some foul deed, knocked at the street-door, and inquired the cause of
the noise; to which Leonard, opening the window, replied that it was
only a drunken woman: and the inquirer retired.
The three villains, Leonard, Graves, and Gay, were afterwards indicted
for this cruel outrage: Leonard as the principal, and the others as
accessories to the fact; and upon their trial they were all found
guilty. Graves and Gay were burned in the hand and imprisoned; but
sentence of death was immediately passed upon Leonard.
Although convicted upon the clearest evidence, this obdurate man denied
that he was guilty; and on the Sunday before he suffered, he received
the sacrament from the hands of the Rev. Mr. Temple, and then, in the
most solemn manner, declared to that gentleman that he was entirely
innocent of the fact for which he was to die; that he had been
repeatedly intimate with Miss Boss, with her own consent; and that all
the reason he could conjecture for her prosecuting him was, that he had
communicated this matter to Graves, one of the other followers, who
availed himself of the secret, and found means to get into the young
lady's room, and who really perpetrated the fact with which she had
falsely accused him.
In this story he persisted all the time he remained in Newgate; but Mr.
Temple, suspecting his veracity, delivered a paper to Mr. Toll, another
gentleman who usually administered spiritual comfort to the malefactors
in their last moments, in which he requested him to ask Leonard about
those two assertions before he was turned off.
This request Mr. Toll and his colleague punctually complied with, and
the unhappy man then acknowledged that he had taken the sacrament to an
absolute falsehood; that there was not a word of truth in his impeaching
Miss Boss, but that he alone abused her; that he was taught in Newgate
to believe that the falsehood might do him service; that he found his
mistake too late, and all the atonement he could make was to acknowledge
the truth before he left the world, and to beg pardon of God for having
acted in so atrocious a manner.
He was executed on the 11th August, 1773, at Tyburn.
SAMUEL MALE.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
The short life of this culprit was remarkable for producing two
surprising instances of the uncertainty of identity.
On the 4th of September, 1772, he was arraigned at the bar of the Old
Bailey for a robbery upon a Mrs. Ryan.
The prosecutrix and other witnesses swore positively that the prisoner
committed the robbery on the 17th of June then last past.
The court consequently supposed conviction would follow; but being
called on for his defence, he said he was innocent, and that the books
of the court would prove where he was on the day of the robbery.
Reference was immediately made to the records; and strange yet true to
relate, that, on the very day and hour sworn to, Male was actually on
his trial at the bar where he then stood, for another robbery, when he
was unfortunate enough to have been mistaken for another person. He was
consequently acquitted; but the force of example did not deter him from
the commission of crime, and although he was discharged from prison
without reproach, he came out a determined thief.
His career of villany was soon ended; for in six months afterwards we
find him expiating his crimes at the gallows. He was charged with a real
robbery, committed by him on the person of Mrs. Grignion, and being
unable again to prove an _alibi_, as he had hitherto done, he was found
guilty, and was executed at Tyburn on the 25th of March, 1773.
WILLIAM FARMERY.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS MOTHER.
While we sketch the shocking crime of this monster, we have some
consolation in observing that, in our long researches into the baseness
of mankind, he is the first we have met with, who, with long-lurking
malice, shed the blood of his mother.
A subject so strangely horrid and unnatural we shall dismiss by a bare
recital of the shocking circumstance.
It appears that among other undutiful acts, he had one morning given
offence to his parent, for which he was justly reproached, whereupon he
went out of her house, took the knife from his pocket, and deliberately
whetted it till quite sharp. Then returning with the murderous
instrument in his hand, he found his unfortunate mother in the act of
making his own bed.
Without uttering a word, he threw her down, and as a butcher kills a
sheep, he stuck her in the throat, and left her weltering in her blood,
of which wound she died.
On his examination he confessed the fact, and said that he had
determined upon his mother's death three years before; for that he had
treasured up malice against her since she had corrected him for some
trifling fault when a little boy.
He was executed at Lincoln, where his offence was committed, on the 5th
of August, 1775.
AMOS MERRITT.
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
The case of this prisoner is a fit successor to that of Samuel Male,
which has been just related. His execution arose out of the following
circumstances. On the 19th August, 1774, Patrick Maden, convicted of a
foot-robbery on the highway, and William Waine and Levi Barnet for
burglary, were carried to Tyburn for execution, pursuant to their
sentence. When the cart was drawn under the gallows, a man among the
crowd of spectators called out for the others to make way for him, as he
had something to communicate to the sheriff respecting one of the
prisoners. This being effected, the man, who proved to be Amos Merritt,
addressed Mr. Reynolds, the under-sheriff, and declared that Patrick
Maden was innocent of the crime for which he was about to suffer. Mr.
Reynolds desired he would look upon the prisoner, and speak aloud what
he had represented to him. He did so, and declared that he was not
guilty; but declined accusing himself. The sheriffs, on hearing this
declaration, despatched Mr. Reynolds with the information to the
secretary of state, and to request his further orders; and a respite
being obtained for Maden, he was carried back to Newgate, amid the
acclamations of the people.
Merritt was then taken into custody, and at the public office in
Bow-street, before Mr. Justice Addington, confessed that he himself was
the person who had committed the robbery of which Maden had been
convicted, and the last-named prisoner was then pardoned.
Though no doubt remained of Merritt's guilt, yet, as no proof could be
adduced to that effect, he for a while escaped justice.
He had been guilty of many robberies, the particulars of which are not
interesting, and we shall therefore come to that for which he suffered.
At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of December 1774,
Amos Merritt was indicted for feloniously breaking and entering the
dwelling-house of Edward Ellicott, early in the morning of the 26th of
October, and stealing from it a quantity of plate, a gold watch, and
other valuable articles, to a large amount.
Mr. Ellicott deposed that he lived in Hornsey-lane, near Highgate, that
he was awakened by his wife, who inquired what noise was in the house;
and ringing the bell, both of them jumped out of bed. The first words
they then heard were, "Come up directly;" and then some person said,
"D--n your bloods, we will murder every soul in the house!" Mrs.
Ellicott said, "Lord bless me, the door is open!" and running to the
door, pushed it close. Mr. Ellicott gave immediate assistance; and a
person who was without, who he believed from his voice was the prisoner,
said, "D--n you, if you do not open the door, I will murder every one of
you!"
The rest of the evidence was to the following effect:--The villains
attempted to force open the door, putting a hanger with a scabbard
between that and the post; but Mr. Ellicott, who was a powerful man,
kept them out by mere strength, and having fastened the door with a drop
bolt, which went into the flooring, he ran to the window, and called out
"Thieves!" In the mean time Mrs. Ellicott, by perpetual ringing of the
bell, hail alarmed the servants, who ran into the road after the
thieves, who had by this time got off with the property.
Notice having been given at Sir John Fielding's, Merritt and his
accomplices were taken into custody on suspicion, and after an
examination at Bow-street were committed to Newgate.
At the trial the evidence was deemed so satisfactory that the jury did
not hesitate to find Merritt guilty; in consequence of which he received
sentence of death, and was executed at Tyburn on the 18th of January,
1775, within six months of the period of his saving the unfortunate
Maden from an untimely and ignominious fate.
Connected with the two cases just detailed, we may relate an anecdote of
a very remarkable instance of personal similitude which happened at New
York, in North America, in the year 1804.
A man was indicted for bigamy under the name of James Hoag. He was met
in a distant part of the country by some friends of his supposed first
wife, and apprehended. The prisoner denied the charge, and said his name
was Thomas Parker. On the trial, Mrs. Hoag, her relations, and many
other credible witnesses, swore that he was James Hoag, and the former
swore positively that he was her husband. On the other side, an equal
number of witnesses, equally respectable, swore that the prisoner was
Thomas Parker; and Mrs. Parker appeared, and claimed him as her husband.
The first witnesses were again called by the Court, and they not only
again deposed to him, but swore that by stature, shape, gesture,
complexion, looks, voice, and speech, he was James Hoag. They even
described a particular scar on his forehead, by which he could be known.
On turning back the hair, the scar appeared. The others, in return,
swore that he had lived among them, worked with them, and was in their
company on the very day of his alleged marriage with Mrs. Hoag. Here the
scales of testimony were balanced, for the jury knew not to which party
to give credit. Mrs. Hoag, anxious to gain back her husband, declared he
had a certain more particular mark on the sole of his foot. Mrs. Parker
avowed that her husband had no such mark; and the man was ordered to
pull off his shoes and stockings. His feet were examined, and no mark
appeared.
The ladies now contended for the man, and Mrs. Hoag vowed that she had
lost her husband, and she would have him; but during this strife, a
justice of the peace from the place where the prisoner was apprehended
entered the Court, and turned the scale in his favour. His worship swore
him to be Thomas Parker; that he had known, and occasionally employed
him, from his infancy; whereupon Mrs. Parker embraced and carried off
her husband in triumph, by the verdict of the jury.
The following anecdote was related by Mr. Baron Garrow upon the trial of
a prisoner, whose identity was questionable, on the Oxford Circuit. The
learned judge was in the course of summing up the case to the jury, when
he stated that a few years before, a prisoner was on his trial before
him, upon a charge of highway robbery. His person was identified
positively by the prosecutor, who even went so far as to say that he now
wore the same clothes in which he had been attired on the occasion on
which the robbery was committed; and the jury were on the point of being
dismissed to the consideration of their verdict, when suddenly shouts
were heard in the yard attached to the Court-house;--cries of "Make
way--make way," were distinguished;--and a man on horseback, whose
appearance denoted the rapidity with which he had ridden, rushed in
among the people congregated to await the result of the trial, and,
throwing himself from his horse, which was covered with foam, made his
way with the greatest expedition to the entrance of the Court. The
outcry which was raised had stopped the learned judge in his concluding
observations, and before he could resume his address to the jury, the
man, booted and spurred, and covered with mud, called upon him to "stop
the case, for that he had ridden fifty miles to save the life of a
fellow-creature--the prisoner at the bar." His lordship and the Court
were astonished at the interruption, and called upon the stranger to
explain his conduct. His answer was that he knew that the prisoner could
not be guilty of the offence imputed to him; and he called upon the
prosecutor of the indictment to say whether, after having seen _him_, he
could still swear that the prisoner was the offender. The prosecutor
again entered the witness-box, and surveyed the stranger from head to
foot. He was dressed in a manner precisely similar to that in which the
prisoner was attired--a green coat with brass buttons, drab breeches,
and top-boots;--their countenances were so nearly alike in style, that
from the transient view he had had of the robber, he was unable to
distinguish which was the real thief. The Court were unwilling to suffer
a person who was really innocent to be convicted, and proceeded to make
inquiries of the stranger as to his reasons for interrupting the trial,
and as to his knowledge of the circumstances of the robbery. Upon the
former point, the only explanation which could be obtained from him was,
that he was perfectly satisfied that the prisoner was innocent; upon the
latter he declined to answer any queries, insinuating that, situated as
he was, the Court would not compel him to criminate himself. The
prisoner now reiterated the protestations of innocence which he had
before made; and the prosecutor, being strictly examined by the Court,
declared that he was so confused by the similarity which existed between
the prisoner and the stranger, that he was unable to swear that the
former was actually the thief; and that his impression now was, that the
latter was the real offender. Under these circumstances, it was left to
the jury to say, whether they could with safety declare the prisoner to
be guilty; and a verdict of acquittal was in consequence returned, to
the apparent satisfaction of the Court. It now became the duty of the
judge to determine what further proceedings should be taken. A robbery,
there was no doubt, had been committed, and its commission lay between
the person who had just been acquitted and the stranger. The former must
be presumed to be not guilty, because the jury had declared him to be
so; and a bill of indictment was therefore directed to be preferred
against the latter, who was taken into custody. The same evidence which
had before been given was now repeated, and a true bill was returned.
The trial came on in the course of the ensuing day, and a fresh jury
being impanelled, the new prisoner was put upon his defence. It was a
simple and plain one; "he was not guilty. The prosecutor had sworn
positively to the person of the prisoner, who had been tried on the
previous day, and could he now be permitted so to alter his testimony,
as to procure the conviction of another? He had before declared that he
could not distinguish the real offender, and what better opportunity had
been since afforded him? Besides, his evidence now went only to his
'belief' as to the identity of the person charged: and surely if the
jury had before acquitted a prisoner to whom he had sworn positively,
they would not now convict, when his testimony was qualified." This
reasoning was too much for the jury; the prisoner had made no
confession of his own guilt, and he was declared not guilty. The sequel
was soon discovered; the two men were brothers: the first prisoner was
the guilty party, and the whole "scene" got up by the stranger was a
mere fabrication, invented for the purpose of gulling the Court and
jury. No proceedings could be taken against either party; for although
the Court had been imposed upon, the imposition was backed by no
perjury, and the two thieves--for so they turned out--escaped
unpunished.
Another instance of remarkable imposition being practised upon the
Court, occurred subsequently at York. The case of a person who was
charged with an extensive robbery on the highway, had attracted
considerable attention. The prisoner, when apprehended, was attired in
the habit of a working man; but the prosecutor, whose evidence as to his
identity was positive, swore that when the robbery was committed he was
well dressed, and mounted. The trial came on at the York assizes, and
the Court was crowded with persons. Upon the evening preceding the day
on which the case was fixed for trial, a gentleman drove up to one of
the principal inns of the city in a travelling chariot, and requested to
be accommodated with a bed. A handsome supper was ordered, and the
stranger retired to rest. In the morning breakfast was served, and the
landlord was sent for. The gentleman said that he was unacquainted with
the town, and found that he was a day too early for the business upon
which he had come to York: and he therefore desired to know whether
there were any amusements going on, with which he could entertain
himself until dinner-time. The castle, the minster, and various other
curiosities were alluded to, in which he appeared to take no interest;
and the landlord at length mentioned that the assizes were on, and
suggested that he might probably derive some entertainment from
listening to the trials; and he stated that a remarkable case of highway
robbery was fixed for trial on that morning, and had by that time
probably commenced. Some curiosity on this point was expressed; and the
landlord, conducting his guest to the Court-house, obtained for him a
seat upon the bench, upon assuring the high sheriff of his being a
person of great apparent respectability, which the landlord had good
reason to believe, from his having seen him with a bundle of notes in
his possession of no inconsiderable size, which he observed that he had
placed in his trunk with his pocket-book on his quitting the inn. The
case of highway robbery, as the landlord suggested, had already
commenced; the prisoner appeared to be a poor man, and was standing at
the bar, with his face buried in his handkerchief, apparently deeply
affected by the situation in which he was placed, and almost unconscious
of what was passing around him. The trial now approached its
termination; the evidence for the prosecution was completed, and the
learned judge called on the prisoner for his defence. He raised himself
languidly from the place where he had been resting, and assured the jury
that he was innocent, when, suddenly starting, he exclaimed
passionately. "There, there, my lord, there is a gentleman seated on
your lordship's bench who can prove that I am not guilty!" All eyes were
turned to the person to whom the prisoner's finger, in support of his
declaration, was pointed; and the stranger was found to be the object of
the remark. He expressed great surprise at being thus called upon, and
declared that he was at a loss to know how the prisoner could appeal to
him, for that he had no immediate recollection that he had ever seen him
before. The learned judge demanded that the prisoner should explain
himself; and he then stated that on the very day named in the
indictment, and by the witnesses, as that on which the robbery had been
committed, he was at Dover, and had conveyed the gentleman's luggage in
a wheelbarrow from the Ship Inn to the steam-packet, in which he was
about to start for Calais. The gentleman, in answer to the questions put
to him, said that he certainly had been at Dover about the time
mentioned, and that he had lodged at the Ship Inn, and had gone from
thence by steam to Calais. He remembered too that a man had carried his
trunks as the prisoner had described; but that although he now had some
distant recollection of the features of the man at the bar, he was
unable to recognize him as the person he had employed; and he could not
besides swear to the date of the transaction. The court inquired whether
he was in the habit of making memoranda of his proceedings, and whether,
by referring to any documents, he should be able to give any more
decided information upon the subject? He answered, that being engaged in
a large mercantile business it was certainly his custom to make notes in
his pocket-book, but that the book was at his inn, locked in his trunk.
The court said that in such a case it was desirable that the most minute
inspection should take place, and desired that the gentleman should go
for his book. The latter was unwilling to take this trouble, but would
give his keys to the officer of the court, who might, in the presence of
his landlord, open his trunk and bring the book to the court. Messengers
were in consequence despatched, with directions to make further
inquiries of the landlord as to the stranger; and in the meantime the
prisoner proceeded to ask him questions, reminding him of certain
occurrences which had taken place on the day in question on their way
from the inn to the quay, and more especially that the packet was late
in starting. To most of these the gentleman assented, and the
pocket-book being now arrived he referred to it, and declared that the
date mentioned was the very day on which he had quitted Dover as
described; and from all the circumstances which the prisoner had
detailed, he was decidedly of opinion that he was the person whom he had
employed. The circumstances attending the arrival and sojourn of the
stranger at the inn, as detailed by the landlord, who had come into
court, were now whispered to the judge; and the gentleman having given
his name, and stated himself to be connected with a most respectable
banking firm in the city of London, the learned judge summed up the
case, commenting upon the very remarkable coincidence which had
occurred; and the jury, giving full credit to the testimony of the
stranger, at once returned a verdict of not guilty in favour of the
prisoner. This decision appeared to give perfect satisfaction to the
court, and the prisoner was ordered to be immediately discharged. The
stranger was complimented by the judge upon the essential service which
he had been the means of rendering to a fellow creature, and left the
court, declaring his happiness at his having been able to give such
testimony. Within a fortnight afterwards, the late prisoner and his
friend, the London merchant, were lodged in York Castle, charged with a
most daring act of housebreaking, in which they had been concerned. The
notes which the latter had sported at the inn were found to be drawn
upon the "Bank of Fashion" instead of upon the "Bank of England;" and
upon the prisoners being tried at the ensuing assizes, they were found
guilty, and their lives were justly forfeited to the laws of their
country.
JOHN RANN, _alias_ SIXTEEN STRINGED JACK.
EXECUTED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.
The name of this criminal will be immediately recollected as one which
has attained no small share of notoriety. He was born at a village a few
miles from Bath, of poor parents; and during the greater part of his
youth he obtained a living by pursuing the business of a costermonger.
At the age of twelve years he was hired by a lady of distinction, whom
he accompanied to London; and subsequently being employed in her
stables, he obtained some knowledge of horses, and having served in the
more humble capacity of post-boy at an inn, he was at length taken into
the service of a gentleman of fortune, in Portman-square, as coachman.
It was at this period that he dressed in the manner which gave rise to
his appellation of Sixteen-stringed Jack, by wearing breeches with eight
strings on each knee; but after having been employed by several noblemen
he lost his character, and turned pickpocket, in company with three
fellows named Jones, Clayton, and College, the latter of whom, a mere
boy, obtained the name of Eight-stringed Jack.
The first appearance which our hero appears to have made at the bar of
any Court of Justice was at the sessions held at the Old Bailey in
April, 1774, when, with Clayton and one Shepherd, he was tried for
robbing Mr. William Somers on the highway, and acquitted for want of
evidence. They were again tried for robbing Mr. Langford, but acquitted
for the same reason.
He was soon destined to be again in custody, however, and on the 30th of
May following, he was charged with robbing John Devall, Esq. near the
nine-mile stone on the Hounslow road, of his watch and money. It
appeared that he had given the watch to a young woman with whom he
lived, named Roche, who had delivered it to Catherine Smith, by whom it
was offered in pledge to Mr. Hallam a pawnbroker, who, suspecting it was
not honestly obtained, caused the parties to be taken into custody.
Roche was now charged with receiving the watch, knowing it to have been
stolen; and Smith, being sworn, deposed that on the day Mr. Devall was
robbed, Roche told her that "she expected Rann to bring her some money
in the evening;" that he accordingly came about ten at night, and having
retired some time with Roche, she, on her return, owned that she had
received a watch and five guineas from him, which he said he had taken
from a gentleman on the highway; and that she, Smith, carried the watch
to pawn to Mr. Hallam at the request of Roche. Upon this charge the
prisoner Rann was again sent to Newgate; but on his trial in July 1774,
he was acquitted. On his appearing at the bar, he was dressed in a
manner above his style of life and his circumstances. He had a bundle of
flowers in the breast of his coat almost as large as a broom; and his
irons were tied up with a number of blue ribands.
Two or three days after this acquittal Rann engaged to sup with a girl
at her lodgings in Bow Street; but not being punctual to his
appointment, the woman went to bed, and her paramour being unable to
obtain admittance by the door, proceeded to effect an entrance through
the window; and had nearly accomplished his purpose, when a watchman
interrupted him, and took him into custody. He was charged at
Bow-street on the 27th of July with this alleged burglarious attempt;
but the "young lady" appearing, declared the prisoner could have had no
felonious intent, for that so far from her opposing his entry, had she
been awake, she would instantly have admitted him; and besides that he
was quite welcome to share everything that she possessed, even to her
bed. Upon this declaration, the prisoner was dismissed, with a caution
to adopt a less dangerous method of pursuing his amours.
After this it seems that the proceedings of our hero became pretty
notorious, and he took no trouble either to conceal or disguise his
person or his acts. He did not hesitate to proclaim himself as
"Sixteen-stringed Jack, the famous highwayman," and to appear at public
places attired in a peculiar manner so as to excite observation and
attention. It does not appear that his attacks were marked by any great
degree of atrocity; and the celebrity which he obtained was rather of
his own seeking. A short time before he was convicted of the offence
which cost him his life, he attended a public execution at Tyburn, and
getting in the ring formed by the constables round the gallows, desired
that he might be permitted to stand there, "for," said he, "perhaps it
is very proper that I should be a spectator on this occasion."
On the 26th of September, 1774, he went with William Collier on the
Uxbridge-road, with a view to commit robberies on the highway; and being
apprehended on the Wednesday following, they were examined at the public
office in Bow-street on the following charge. Dr. William Bell, chaplain
to the Princess Amelia, deposed that between three and four o'clock in
the afternoon of Monday, the 26th of September, as he was riding near
Ealing, he observed two men of rather mean appearance, who rode past
him; and that he remarked they had suspicious looks; yet neither at that
time, nor for some little time afterwards, had he any idea of being
robbed: that soon afterwards one of them, whom he believed to be Rann,
crossed the head of his horse, and demanding his money, said, "Give it
to me, and take no notice, or I'll blow your brains out." On this the
doctor gave him one shilling and sixpence, which was all the silver he
had, and a common watch in a tortoise-shell case.
It further appeared that, on the night of the robbery, Rann's companion
Eleanor Roche, and her maid-servant, Christian Stewart, went to the shop
of Mr. Cordy, a pawnbroker in Oxford-road, to pledge the watch, but that
he stopped it, and found out its owner by applying to Mr. Grignon, its
maker, in Russell-street, Covent-garden; and evidence was also adduced
as to the identity of Rann, who was proved to have been seen at Acton
within twenty minutes of the time of the robbery being committed. The
prisoners were thereupon sent to Newgate to take their trials; and Roche
and Stewart being also apprehended, were indicted as accessories after
the fact.
The evidence given on the trial, was in substance the same as that which
had been adduced at Bow-street; but some favourable circumstances
appearing in behalf of Collier, he was recommended to mercy, and
afterwards respited during the king's pleasure. Miss Roche was sentenced
to be transported for fourteen years; her servant was acquitted; and
Rann was left for execution.
When Rann was brought down to take his trial he was dressed in a new
suit of pea-green clothes; his hat was bound round with silver strings;
he wore a ruffled shirt, and his behaviour evinced the utmost unconcern.
Upon hearing the verdict of the jury, which consigned him to death, he
endeavoured to force a smile, but the attempt was a failure, and it was
evident that the confidence which he had before exhibited, now forsook
him. He had been so certain of acquittal, that he had ordered a supper
to be provided on the occasion; but his anticipations of pleasure were
quickly changed into the reality of sorrow. After conviction, his
behaviour was for a time unfitted for the melancholy condition in which
he was placed. On Sunday, the 23d of October, he had seven girls to dine
with him, and with their mirth endeavoured to shake off the heaviness
which beset him, but the warrant for his execution soon after arriving,
he became more sensible of his awful situation, and began to prepare for
the sad fate which awaited him. At his execution, he behaved with decent
resignation, and surveyed the gallows with an eye of confidence. He was
executed on the 30th of November, 1774; and having hung the usual time,
his body was delivered over to his friends for interment.
ROBERT AND DANIEL PERREAU.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The circumstances of the cases of these prisoners are of a very
remarkable description. It appears that the accused persons were twin
brothers, and were so much alike that it was with difficulty that they
were known apart. Robert Perreau carried on business in Golden-square as
an apothecary, and was in great practice; while his brother lived in a
style of considerable fashion, a Mrs. Margaret Caroline Rudd living with
him as his wife.
At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in June 1775, Robert Perreau was
indicted for forging a bond for the payment of 7,500_l._ in the name of
William Adair, Esq (then a great government contractor), and also for
feloniously uttering and publishing the said bond, knowing it to be
forged, with intent to defraud Messrs. Robert and Henry Drummond,
bankers.
From the evidence which was adduced at the trial, it appeared that on
the 10th of March, 1775, the prisoner under trial, whose character up to
that time had been considered unimpeachable, went to the house of
Messrs. Drummond, and seeing Mr. Henry Drummond, one of the partners,
said that he had been making a purchase of an estate in Norfolk or
Suffolk, for which he was to give 12,000_l._, but that he had not
sufficient cash to pay the whole purchase-money. That he had a bond,
however, which Mr. Adair had given to his brother Daniel, for 7,500_l._,
upon which he desired to raise a sum of 5000_l._, out of which he was
willing to pay 1,400_l._, which he had already borrowed of the firm.
Mr. Drummond, on the production of the bond, had no sooner looked at the
signature than he doubted its authenticity, and very politely asked the
prisoner if he had seen Mr. Adair sign it. The latter said he had not,
but that he had no doubt that it was authentic, from the nature of the
connexion that subsisted between Mrs. Rudd, who was known to live with
Daniel, and that gentleman; a suggestion having previously been thrown
but that she was his natural daughter. Mr. Drummond, however, declined
advancing any money without the sanction of his brother, and he desired
Perreau to leave the bond, saying that it should either be returned on
the next day, or the money produced. The prisoner made no scruple to
obey this suggestion, and he retired, promising to call again the next
day.
In the interim, Mr. Drummond examined the bond with greater attention;
and Mr. Stephens, secretary of the Admiralty, happening to call, his
opinion was demanded, when, comparing the signature to the bond with
letters which he had lately received from Mr. Adair, he was firmly
convinced that it was forged. When Perreau came on the following day,
Mr. Drummond spoke more freely than he had done before, and told him
that he imagined he had been imposed on; but begged, that to remove all
doubt, he would go with him to Mr. Adair, and get that gentleman to
acknowledge the validity of the bond, on which the money would be
advanced. This was immediately acceded to; and on Mr. Adair seeing the
document, he at once declared that the signature was a forgery. The
prisoner smiled incredulously, and said that he jested; but Mr. Adair
remarked that it was no jesting matter, and that it lay on him to clear
up the affair. On this he went away, requesting to have the bond, in
order to make the necessary inquiries--a request which was refused; and
persons being employed to watch him, it was found that immediately on
his arrival at his house, he and his brother and Mrs. Rudd got into a
coach, carrying with them all the valuables which they could collect,
with a design to make their escape. They were, however, stopped, and
taken into custody, and being conveyed to Sir John Fielding's, at
Bow-street, they there underwent an examination, and upon the evidence
adduced, were committed to prison. Other charges were subsequently
brought against them by Sir Thomas Frankland, from whom they had
obtained two sums of 5000_l._ and 4000_l._ on similar forged bonds, as
well as 4000_l._ which they had paid when the amount became due; and by
Dr. Brooke, who alleged that they had obtained from him 1500_l._ in
bonds of the Ayr bank, upon the security of a forged bond for 3100_l._;
and Mrs. Rudd was then admitted as evidence for the Crown. Her
deposition then was, that she was the daughter of a nobleman in
Scotland; that, when young, she married an officer in the army named
Rudd, against the consent of her friends; that her fortune was
considerable; that on a disagreement with her husband, they resolved to
part; that she made a reserve of money, jewels, and effects, to the
amount of thirteen thousand pounds, all of which she gave to Daniel
Perreau, whom she said she loved with the tenderness of a wife; that she
had three children by him; that he had returned her kindness in every
respect till lately, when, having been unfortunate in gaming in the
alley, he had become uneasy, peevish, and much altered to her; that he
cruelly constrained her to sign the bond now in question, by holding a
knife to her throat, and swearing that he would murder her if she did
not comply; that, being struck with remorse, she had acquainted Mr.
Adair with what she had done; and that she was now willing to declare
every transaction with which she was acquainted, whenever she should be
called upon by law so to do.
Upon the cross-examination of Mr. Drummond, however, he swore that Mrs.
Rudd on her being first apprehended, took the whole on herself, and
acknowledged that she had forged the bonds; that she begged them "for
God's sake to have mercy on an innocent man," and that she said no
injury was intended to any person, and that all would be paid; and that
she acknowledged delivering the bond to the prisoner. They then
entertained an opinion that the prisoner was her dupe; and Mr. Robert
Drummond having expressed a notion that she could not have forged a
handwriting so dissimilar from that of a woman as Mr. Adair's, she
immediately, in order to satisfy them of the truth of what she said,
wrote the name "William Adair" on a paper exactly like the signature
which appeared attached to the bond.
Mr. Watson, a money-scrivener, also deposed, that he had filled up the
bonds at the desire of one of the brothers, and in pursuance of
instructions received from him; but he hesitated to fix on either, on
account of their great personal resemblance; and being pressed to make a
positive declaration, he fixed on Daniel as his employer.
The case for the prosecution being concluded, the prisoner entered upon
his defence. In a long and ingenious speech, which he addressed to the
jury, he strove hard to prove that he was the victim of the artifices of
Mrs. Rudd.
He said that she was constantly conversing about the influence she had
over Mr. W. Adair; and that Mr. Adair had, by his interest with the
king, obtained the promise of a baronetage for Daniel Perreau, and was
about procuring him a seat in parliament. That Mr. Adair had promised to
open a bank, and take the brothers Perreau into partnership with him.
That the prisoner received many letters signed "William Adair," which he
had no doubt came from that gentleman, in which were promises of giving
them a considerable part of his fortune during his life; and that he was
to allow Daniel Perreau two thousand four hundred pounds a year for his
household expenses, and six hundred pounds a year for Mrs. Rudd's
pin-money. That Mr. Daniel Perreau purchased a house in Harley-street
for four thousand pounds, which money Mr. William Adair was to give
them. That when Daniel Perreau was pressed by the person of whom he
bought the house for the money, the prisoner understood that they
applied to Mr. William Adair, and that his answer was, that he had lent
the king seventy thousand pounds, and had purchased a house in Pall Mall
at seven thousand pounds, in which to carry on the banking business, and
therefore could not spare the four thousand pounds at that time.
He declared that all attempts at personal communication with Mr. Adair
were strenuously opposed by Mrs. Rudd as being likely to destroy the
effects of her exertions on his behalf, and contended that his conduct
throughout the whole transaction with Mr. Drummond, showed that he was
innocent of any guilty intention, and that he firmly believed that he
was acting honestly and justly.
He then proceeded to call the following witnesses, whose evidence we
shall give in the most concise manner:--
George Kinder deposed that Mrs. Perreau (the only name by which he knew
Mrs, Rudd) told him "that she was a near relation of Mr. James Adair;
that he looked upon her as his child, had promised to make her fortune,
and with that view had recommended her to Mr. William Adair, a near
relation and intimate friend of his, who had promised to set her husband
and the prisoner up in the banking business." He also deposed that she
said that Mr. Daniel Perreau was to be made a baronet, and described
how she would act when she became a lady. The witness further deposed
that Mrs. Rudd often pretended that Mr. William Adair had called to see
her, but that he never had seen that gentleman on any visit.
John Moody, a livery-servant of Daniel Perreau, deposed that his
mistress wrote two very different hands; in one of which she wrote
letters to his master, as from Mr. William Adair, and in the other the
ordinary business of the family. That the letters written in the name of
William Adair were pretended to have been left in his master's absence;
that his mistress ordered him to give them to his master, and pretend
that Mr. Adair had been with his mistress for a longer or shorter time,
as circumstances required. This witness likewise proved that the hand at
the bottom of the bond and that of his mistress's fictitious writing
were precisely the same; that she used different pens, ink, and paper,
in writing her common and fictitious letters; and that she sometimes
gave the witness half-a-crown when he had delivered a letter to her
satisfaction. He said he had seen her go two or three times to Mr. J.
Adair's, but never to William's; and that Mr. J. Adair once visited his
mistress on her lying-in.
Susannah Perreau (the prisoner's sister) deposed to her having seen a
note delivered to Daniel Perreau, by Mrs. Rudd, for nineteen thousand
pounds, drawn as by William Adair, on Mr. Croft, the banker, in favour
of Daniel Perreau.
Elizabeth Perkins swore that a week before the forgery was discovered,
her mistress gave her a letter to bring back to her in a quarter of an
hour, and say it was brought by Mr. Coverley, who had been servant to
Daniel Perreau; that she gave her mistress this letter, and her master
instantly broke the seal.
Daniel Perreau swore that the purport of this letter was "that Mr. Adair
desired her to apply to his brother, the prisoner, to procure him five
thousand pounds upon his (Adair's) bond, in the same manner as he had
done before; that Mr. Adair was unwilling to have it appear that the
money was raised for him, and therefore desired him to have the bond
lodged with some confidential friend, who would not require an
assignment of it; that his brother, on being made acquainted with his
request, showed a vast deal of reluctancy, and said it was very
unpleasant work; but undertook it with a view of obliging Mr. William
Adair."
The counsel for the prosecution demanding "if he did not disclaim all
knowledge of the affair before Mr. Adair," he said he denied ever having
seen the bond before, nor had he a perfect knowledge of it till he saw
it in the hands of Mr. Adair.
David Cassady, who assisted Mr. R. Perreau as an apothecary, deposed
that he lived much within the profits of his profession, and that it was
reported he was going into the banking business.
John Leigh, clerk to Sir John Fielding, swore to the prisoner's coming
voluntarily to the office before his apprehension, and giving
information that a forgery had been committed. Mr. Leigh was asked if
Mrs. Rudd "ever charged the prisoner with any knowledge of the
transaction till the justices were hearing evidence to prove her
confession of the fact;" and he answered that he did not recollect that
circumstance, but that on her first examination she did not accuse the
prisoner.
Mr. Perreau now called several persons of rank to his character. Lady
Lyttleton being asked if she thought him capable of such a crime,
supposed she could have done it as soon herself. Sir John Moore, Sir
John Chapman, General Rebow, Captain Ellis, Captain Burgoyne, and other
gentlemen, spoke most highly to the character of the prisoner; but the
jury found him guilty.
It will be unnecessary now to give anything more than a succinct account
of the trial of Daniel Perreau, which immediately followed that of his
brother. He was indicted for forging and counterfeiting a bond, in the
name of William Adair, for three thousand three hundred pounds, to
defraud the said William Adair, and for uttering the same knowing it to
be forged, to defraud Thomas Brooke, doctor of physic. Mr. Scroope
Ogilvie, clerk to Mr. William Adair, proved the forgery; and Dr. Brooke
swore to the uttering of the bond.
The defence set up by the prisoner was, that Mrs. Rudd had given the
bond to him as a true one; and he asserted, in the most solemn manner,
that he had had no intention to defraud any man. Like his brother, he
called several witnesses to show the artifices of which Mrs. Rudd had
been guilty; and many persons proved the great respectability of his
character.
The jury, however, returned a verdict of guilty, and both prisoners were
sentenced to death; but the execution did not take place until January
1776, in consequence of the proceedings which were subsequently taken
against Mrs. Rudd.
After conviction the behaviour of the brothers was, in every respect,
proper for their unhappy situation. Great interest was made to obtain a
pardon for them, particularly for Robert, in whose favour seventy-eight
bankers and merchants of London signed a petition to the king: the news
papers were filled with paragraphs, evidently written by disinterested
persons, in favour of men whom they thought dupes to the designs of an
artful woman: but all was of no avail.
On the day of execution the brothers were favoured with a
mourning-coach, in which to be conveyed to the scaffold; and their
conduct throughout was of the most exemplary description. After the
customary devotions were concluded, they crossed hands, and joining the
four together, in that manner were launched into eternity. They had not
hanged more than half a minute when their hands dropped asunder, and
they appeared to die without pain.
Each of them delivered a paper to the Ordinary of Newgate, which stated
their innocence, and ascribed the blame of the whole transaction to the
artifices of Mrs. Rudd; and, indeed, thousands of people gave credit to
their assertions, and a great majority of the public thought Robert
wholly innocent.
Daniel Perreau and Robert Perreau were executed at Tyburn on the 17th of
January, 1776.
On the Sunday following, the bodies were carried from the house of
Robert, in Golden-square, and, after the usual solemnities, deposited in
the vault of St. Martin's church. A mob of thirty thousand persons
attended the execution, and an equal number appeared at the funeral, but
nothing occurred to disturb the solemnity of either scene.
MARGARET CAROLINE RUDD.
TRIED FOR FORGERY.
On the 16th of September, 1775, Mrs. Rudd was put to the bar at the Old
Bailey, to be tried for forgery; but the counsel for the prisoner
pleading that, as she had been already admitted an evidence for the
crown, it was unprecedented to detain her for trial, and the judges
differing in opinion on the point of law, she was remanded to prison
till the opinion of the judges could be taken on a subject of so much
importance.
On the 8th of December, 1775, she was arraigned on an indictment for
feloniously forging a bond, purporting to be signed by William Adair,
and for feloniously uttering and publishing the same.
Mr. Justice Aston now addressed the prisoner, informing her that eleven
of the judges had met (the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas being
indisposed), "and were unanimous in opinion, that in cases not within
any statute, an accomplice, who fully discloses the joint guilt of
himself and his companions, and is admitted by justices of the peace as
a witness, and who appears to have acted a fair and ingenuous part in
the disclosure of all the circumstances of the cases in which he has
been concerned, ought not to be prosecuted for the offences so by him
confessed, but cannot by law plead this in bar of any indictment, but
merely as an equitable claim to mercy from the crown: and nine of the
judges were of opinion that all the circumstances relative to this claim
ought to be laid before the Court, to enable the judges to exercise
their discretion whether the trial should proceed or not. With respect
to the case before them, the same nine judges were of opinion that if
the matter stood singly upon the two informations of the prisoner,
compared with the indictments against her, she ought to have been tried
upon all, or any of them, for from her information she is no accomplice.
She exhibits a charge against Robert and Daniel Perreau, the first
soliciting her to imitate the hand-writing of William Adair, the other
forcing her to execute the forgery under the threat of death. Her two
informations are contradictory: if she has suppressed the truth, she has
no equitable claim to favour; and if she has told the truth, and the
whole truth, she cannot be convicted. As to the indictments preferred
against her by Sir Thomas Frankland, as her informations before the
justices have no relation to his charges, she can claim no sort of
advantage from these informations."
The trial then proceeded.--The principal evidences were the wife of
Robert Perreau, and John Moody, a servant to Daniel. The first
endeavoured to prove that the bond was published, the latter that it was
forged. Sir Thomas Frankland proved that he had lent money on the bond.
It was objected by the counsel for the prisoner, that Mrs. Perreau was
an incompetent witness, as she would be interested in the event; but the
Court overruled this objection.
Mrs. Perreau deposed that, on the 24th December, she saw Mrs. Rudd
deliver a bond to her husband, which he laid on the table while he
brushed his coat; that it was for five thousand three hundred pounds,
payable to Robert Perreau, and signed "William Adair;" and that it was
witnessed in the names of Arthur Jones and Thomas Start, or Hart. Mrs.
Perreau, being asked when she again saw the bond, said that it was
brought to her on the 8th of March (the day after her husband was
convicted), when she selected it from other bonds delivered to him on
the 24th of December. She made her mark on it, and deposed that when it
was delivered to Mr. Perreau, Mrs. Rudd said, "Mr. Adair would be very
much obliged to Mr. Perreau to try to raise upon that bond the sum of
four thousand pounds of Sir Thomas Frankland."
Sergeant Davy cross-examined Mrs. Perreau. She acknowledged that till
the 24th of December she had never seen a bond in her life; and that on
her first sight of that in question she had no suspicion that anything
was wrong.
John Moody, the servant to Daniel Perreau, who had been examined on the
former trials, was called, and repeated the testimony which he had
before given. The bond which in this case was alleged to have been
uttered was that for 4000_l._, on which Sir Thomas Frankland had
advanced money.
The prisoner, on being called on for her defence, in a short speech
declared that she was innocent, and concluded by leaving her case in the
hands of the jury, who almost immediately declared her not guilty.
As soon as the verdict was returned, she quitted the Court, and retired
to the house of a friend at the west end of the town.
THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL, OTHERWISE THE DUCHESS OF KINGSTON.
CONVICTED OF BIGAMY.
Few females have in their time attracted so large a portion of public
attention as this celebrated lady. She was the daughter of Colonel
Chudleigh, the descendant of an ancient family in the county of Devon;
but her father dying while she was yet young, her mother was left
possessed only of a small estate with which to bring her up, and to fit
her for that grade of society in which from her birth she was entitled
to move. Being possessed, however, of excellent qualities, she improved
the connexion which she had among persons of fashion, with a view to the
future success in life of her daughter. The latter, meanwhile, as she
advanced in years, improved in beauty; and upon her attaining the age of
eighteen was distinguished as well for the loveliness of her person as
for the wit and brilliancy of her conversation. Her education had not
been neglected; and, despite the small fortune possessed by her mother,
no opportunity was lost by which her mind might be improved; and a means
was about this time afforded for the display of her accomplishments. The
father of George the Third held his court at Leicester-house; and Mr.
Pulteney, who then blazed as a meteor on the opposition benches in the
House of Commons, was honoured with the particular regard of His Royal
Highness. Miss Chudleigh had been introduced to Mr. Pulteney; and he had
admired her for the beauties of her mind and of her person; and, his
sympathies being excited in her behalf, he obtained for her, at the age
of eighteen, the appointment of maid of honour to the Princess of Wales.
His efforts, however, did not stop at thus elevating her to a situation
of the highest honour; but he also endeavoured to improve the
cultivation of her understanding by instruction; and to him Miss
Chudleigh read, and with him, when separated by distance, she
corresponded.
The station to which Miss Chudleigh had been advanced, combined with her
numerous personal attractions, produced her many admirers: some with
titles, and others in the expectation of them. Among the former was the
Duke of Hamilton, whom Miss Gunning had afterwards the good fortune to
obtain for a consort. The duke was passionately attached to Miss
Chudleigh; and pressed his suit with such ardour as to obtain a solemn
engagement on her part, that on his return from a tour, for which he was
preparing, she would become his wife. There were reasons why this event
should not immediately take place; but that the engagement would be
fulfilled at the specified time was considered by both parties as a
moral certainty. A mutual pledge was given and accepted; the duke
commenced his proposed tour; and the parting condition was, that he
should write by every opportunity, and that Miss Chudleigh of course
should answer his epistles. Thus the arrangement of Fortune seemed to
have united a pair who possibly might have experienced much happiness,
for between the duke and Miss Chudleigh there was a strong similarity of
disposition; but Fate had not destined them for each other.
Miss Chudleigh had an aunt, whose name was Hanmer: at her house the Hon.
Mr. Hervey, son of the Earl of Bristol, and a captain in the royal navy,
was a visitor. To this gentleman Mrs. Hanmer became so exceedingly
partial, that she favoured views which he entertained towards her niece,
and engaged her efforts to effect, if possible, a matrimonial connexion.
There were two difficulties which would have been insurmountable, had
they not been opposed by the fertile genius of a female--Miss Chudleigh
disliked Captain Hervey, and she was betrothed to the Duke of Hamilton.
No exertions which could possibly be made were spared to render this
latter alliance nugatory; and the wits of this woman were exerted to the
utmost to favour the object which she had in view. The letters of his
grace were intercepted by Mrs. Hanmer; and his supposed silence giving
offence to her niece, she worked so successfully on her pride as to
induce her to abandon all thoughts of her lover, whose passion she had
cherished with delight. A conduct the reverse of that imputed to the
duke was observed by Captain Hervey: he was all that assiduity could
dictate or attention perform. He had daily access to Miss Chudleigh; and
each interview was artfully improved by the aunt to the promotion of her
own views. The letters of his grace of Hamilton, which regularly
arrived, were as regularly suppressed; until, piqued beyond endurance,
Miss Chudleigh was prevailed on to accept the hand of Captain Hervey,
and by a private marriage, to ensure the participation of his future
honours and fortune. The ceremony was performed in a private chapel
adjoining the country mansion of Mr. Merrill, at Lainston, near
Winchester, in Hampshire.
On a review of life, the predominant evil experienced may be easily
traced by every reflecting mind to some wilful error or injudicious
mistake, operating as a determinate cause, and giving the colour to our
fate. This was the case with Miss Chudleigh; and the hour at which she
became united with Captain Hervey proved to her the origin of every
subsequent unhappiness. The connubial rites were attended with unhappy
consequences; and from the night following the day on which the marriage
was solemnized, Miss Chudleigh resolved never to have any further
connexion with her husband. To prevail on him not to claim her as his
wife required all the art of which she was mistress; and the best
dissuasive was the loss of her situation as maid of honour, should the
marriage become publicly known. The circumstances of Captain Hervey were
not in a flourishing condition, and were ill calculated to enable him to
ride with a high hand over his wife; and the fear of the loss of the
emoluments of her office operated most powerfully with him to induce him
to obey the injunctions which she imposed upon him in this respect. His
conduct even now, however, exhibited a strong desire to act with a
degree of harshness most unusual so soon after the performance of the
marriage ceremony; and the consequence was that any feelings of respect
which his wife may have fancied she entertained for him were soon
dispelled. Her own expression subsequently was that "her misery
commenced with the arrival of Captain Hervey in England; and the
greatest joy she experienced was on the intelligence of his departure."
Her marriage being unknown to mere outward observers, Miss Chudleigh, or
Mrs. Hervey, a maid in appearance--a wife in disguise--would have been
supposed to be placed in a most enviable condition. The attractive
centre of the circle in which she moved, the invigorating spirit of the
life of the society formed around her, she was universally admired. Her
royal mistress smiled upon her; the friendship of many was at her call;
the admiration of none could be withheld from her: but amidst all her
conquests and all her fancied happiness she wanted that peace of mind
which was so necessary to support her against the conflicts which arose
in her own breast. Nor was her own heart, that inward monitor, the only
source of her trouble. Her husband, quieted for a time, grew
obstreperous as he saw the jewel admired by all, which was, he felt,
entitled only to his love; and feeling that he possessed the right to
her entire consideration, he resolved to assert its power. In the mean
time every art which she possessed had been put into operation to soothe
him to continued silence; but her further endeavours being unsuccessful,
she was compelled to grant his request, and to attend an interview which
he appointed, at his own house, and to which he enforced obedience by
threatening an instant and full disclosure in case of her
non-compliance. The meeting was strictly private, all persons being sent
from the house with the exception of a black servant; and on Mrs.
Hervey's entrance to the apartment in which her husband was seated, his
first care was to prevent all intrusion by locking the door. This
meeting, like all others between her and her husband, was unfortunate in
its effects: the fruit of it was the birth of a boy, whose existence it
will be readily supposed she had much difficulty in concealing. Her
removal to Brompton for a change of air became requisite during the term
of her confinement; and she returned to Leicester-house, perfectly
recovered from her indisposition; but the infant soon sinking in the
arms of death, left only the tale of its existence to be related.
In the mean time, the sum of her unhappiness had been completed by the
return of the Duke of Hamilton. His grace had no sooner arrived in
England, than he hastened to pay his adoration at the feet of his idol,
and to learn the cause of her silence, when his letters had been
regularly despatched to her. An interview which took place soon set the
character of Mrs. Hanmer in its true light; but while Miss Chudleigh was
convinced of the imposition which had been practised upon her, she was
unable to accept the proffered hand of her illustrious suitor, or to
explain the reason for her apparently ungracious rejection of his
addresses. The duke, flighty as he was in other respects, in his love
for Miss Chudleigh had at least been sincere; and this strange conduct
on the part of his betrothed, followed as it was by a request on her
part that he would not again intrude his visits upon her, raised
emotions in his mind which can hardly be described. The rejection of his
grace was followed by that of several other persons of distinction; and
the mother of Miss Chudleigh, who was quite unaware of her private
marriage with Captain Hervey, could not conceal her regret and anger at
the supposed folly of her daughter.
It was impossible that these circumstances could long remain concealed
from the society in which Miss Chudleigh moved; and, in order to relieve
herself from the embarrassments by which she was surrounded, she
determined to travel on the Continent--trusting that time would
eradicate the impression of her fickleness which she left behind her,
and that change of scene would remove the pain which every day spent in
the theatre of her former operations could not fail to sink deeper into
her heart. Germany was the place selected by her for her travels; and
she, in turn, visited the chief cities of its principalities. Possessed
as she was of introductions of the highest class, she was gratified by
obtaining the acquaintance of many crowned heads. Frederic of Prussia
conversed and corresponded with her. In the Electress of Saxony she
found a friend whose affection for her continued to the latest period of
life. The electress was a woman of sense, honour, virtue, and religion;
and her letters were replete with kindness. While her hand distributed
presents to Miss Chudleigh out of the treasury of abundance, her heart
was interested for her happiness. This she afterwards evinced during her
prosecution; for at that time a letter from the electress contained the
following passage:--"You have long experienced my love; my revenue, my
protection, my everything, you may command. Come then, my dear life, to
an asylum of peace. Quit a country where, if you are bequeathed a cloak,
some pretender may start up, and ruin you by law to prove it not your
property. Let me have you at Dresden."
On her return from the Continent Miss Chudleigh ran over the career of
pleasure, enlivened the court circles, and each year became more
ingratiated with the mistress whom she served. She was the leader of
fashion, played whist with Lord Chesterfield, and revelled with Lady
Harrington and Miss Ashe. She was a constant visitant at all public
places, and in 1742 appeared at a masked ball in the character of
Iphigenia.
Reflection, however, put off for the day, too frequently intruded an
unwelcome visit at night. Captain Hervey, like a perturbed spirit, was
eternally crossing the path trodden by his wife. If in the rooms at
Bath, he was sure to be there. At a rout, ridotto, or ball, this
destroyer of her peace embittered every pleasure, and even menaced her
with an intimation that he would disclose the marriage to the princess.
Miss Chudleigh, now persuaded of the folly and danger of any longer
concealment from her royal mistress, determined that the design, which
her husband had formed from a malicious feeling, should be carried out
by herself from a principle of rectitude; and she, in consequence,
communicated to the princess the whole of the circumstances attending
her unhappy union. The recital was one which could excite no feeling of
disrespect or of anger; and her royal mistress pitied her, and continued
her patronage up to the hour of her death.
At length a stratagem was either suggested, or it occurred to Miss
Chudleigh, at once to deprive Captain Hervey of the power to claim her
as his wife. The clergyman who had married them was dead. The
register-book was in careless hands. A handsome compliment was paid fur
the inspection; and while the person, in whose custody it was, listened
to an amusing story, Miss Chudleigh tore out the register. Thus
imagining the business accomplished, she for a time bade defiance to her
husband, whose taste for the softer sex having subsided from some
unaccountable cause, afforded Miss Chudleigh a cessation of inquietude.
A change in the circumstances of the captain, however, effected an
alteration in the feelings of his wife. His father having died, he
succeeded to the title of the Earl of Bristol, and his accession to
nobility was not unaccompanied by an increase of fortune. Miss Chudleigh
saw that by assuming the title of Countess of Bristol she would probably
command increased respect, and would obtain greater power; and with a
degree of unparalleled blindness, she went to the house of Mr. Merrill,
the clergyman in whose chapel she had been married, to restore those
proofs of her union which she had previously taken such pains to
destroy. Her ostensible reason was a jaunt out of town; her real design
was to procure, if possible, the insertion of her marriage with Captain
Hervey in the book which she had formerly mutilated. With this view she
dealt out promises with a liberal hand. The officiating clerk, who was a
person of various avocations, was to be promoted to the extent of his
wishes. The book was managed by the lady to her content, and she
returned to London, secretly exulting in the excellence and success of
her machination. While this was going on, however, her better fate
influenced in her favour the heart of a man who was the exemplar of
amiability--this was the Duke of Kingston: but, re-married as it were by
her own stratagem, the participation of ducal honours became legally
impossible. The chains of wedlock, which the lady had been so
industrious in assuming or putting off, as seemed most suitable to her
views, now became galling in the extreme. Every advice was taken, every
means tried, by which her liberation might be obtained; but all the
efforts which were made proved useless, and it was found to be necessary
to acquiesce in that which could not be opposed successfully or pass
unnoticed. The duke's passion, meanwhile, became more ardent and
sincere; and, finding the apparent impossibility of a marriage taking
place, he for a series of years cohabited with Miss Chudleigh, although
with such external observances of decorum, that their intimacy was
neither generally remarked nor known.
The disagreeable nature of these proceedings on their parts was,
however, felt by both parties, and efforts were again made by means of
which a marriage might be solemnised. The Earl of Bristol was sounded;
and it was found that, grown weary of a union with a woman whom he now
disliked, and whom he never met, he was not unwilling to accept the
proposals held out; but upon his learning the design with which a
divorce was sought, he declared that he would never consent to it, for
that his countess's vanity should not be flattered by her being raised
to the rank of a duchess. The negociations were thus for a time stopped;
but afterwards, there being a lady with whom he conceived that he could
make an advantageous match, he listened to the suggestions which were
made to him with more complacency, and at length declared that he was
ready to adopt any proceedings which should have for their effect the
annihilation of the ties by which he was bound to Miss Chudleigh. The
civilians were consulted, a jactitation suit was instituted; but the
evidence by which the marriage could have been proved was kept back, and
the Earl of Bristol failing, as it was intended he should fail, in
substantiating the marriage, a decree was made, declaring the claim to
be null and unsupported. Legal opinions now only remained to be taken as
to the effect of this decree, and the lawyers of the Ecclesiastical
Courts, highly tenacious of the rights and jurisdiction of their own
judges, declared their opinion to be that the sentence could not be
disturbed by the interference of any extrinsic power. In the conviction,
therefore, of the most perfect safety, the marriage of the Duke of
Kingston with Miss Chudleigh was publicly solemnised. The wedding
favours were worn by persons of the highest distinction in the kingdom;
and during the life-time of his grace, no attempt was made to dispute
the legality of the proceedings. For a few years the duchess figured in
the world of gaiety without apprehension or control. She was raised to
the pinnacle of her fortune, and she enjoyed that which her later life
had been directed to accomplish--the parade of title, but without that
honour which integrity of character can alone secure. She was checked in
her career of pleasure, however, by the death of her duke. The fortune
which his grace possessed, it appears, was not entailed, and it was at
his option, therefore, to bequeath it to the duchess or to the heirs of
his family, as seemed best to his inclination. His will, excluding from
every benefit an elder, and preferring a younger nephew as the heir in
tail, gave rise to the prosecution of the duchess, which ended in the
beggary of her prosecutor and her own exile. The demise of the Duke of
Kingston was neither sudden nor unexpected. Being attacked with a
paralytic affection, he lingered but a short time, which was employed by
the duchess in journeying his grace from town to town, under the false
idea of prolonging his life by change of air and situation. At last,
when real danger seemed to threaten, even in the opinion of the duchess,
she despatched one of her swiftest-footed messengers to her solicitor,
Mr. Field, of the Temple, requiring his immediate attendance. He obeyed
the summons, and arriving at the house, the duchess privately imparted
her wishes, which were, that he would procure the duke to execute, and
be himself a subscribing witness to a will, made without his knowledge,
and more to the taste of the duchess than that which had been executed.
The difference between these two wills was this:--the duke had
bequeathed the income of his estates to his relict during her life, and
expressly under condition of her continuing in a state of widowhood.
Perfectly satisfied, however, as the duchess seemed with whatever was
the inclination of her dearest lord, she could not resist the
opportunity of carrying her secret wishes into effect. She did not
relish the temple of Hymen being shut against her. Earnestly therefore,
did she press Mr. Field to have her own will immediately executed, which
left her at liberty to give her hand to the conqueror of her heart; and
in her anxiety to have the restraint shaken off, she had nearly deprived
herself of every benefit derivable from the demise of the duke. When Mr.
Field was introduced to his grace, his intellects were perceptibly
affected; and, although he knew the friends who approached him, a
transient knowledge of their persons was the only indication of the
continuance of his mental powers which he exhibited. Mr. Field very
properly remonstrated against the impropriety of introducing a will for
execution to a man in such a state; but this occasioned a severe
reprehension from the duchess, who reminded him that his business was
only to obey the instructions of his employer. Feeling for his
professional character, however, he positively refused either to tender
the will or to be in any manner concerned in endeavouring to procure its
execution; and with this refusal he quitted the house, the duchess
beholding him with an indignant eye as the annoyer of her scheme, when,
in fact, by not complying with it, he was rendering her an essential
service; for had the will she proposed been executed, it would most
indubitably have been set aside, and the heirs would consequently have
excluded the relict from everything, except that to which the right of
dower entitled her; and the marriage being invalidated, the lady in
this, as in other respects, would have been ruined by her own stratagem.
Soon after the frustration of this attempt the Duke of Kingston expired.
No sooner were the funeral rites performed than the duchess adjusted her
affairs, and embarked for the Continent, proposing Rome for her
temporary residence. Ganganelli at that time filled the papal chair.
From the moderation of his principles, the tolerant spirit which he on
every occasion displayed, and the marked attention he bestowed on the
English, he acquired the title of the Protestant Pope; and to such a
character the duchess was a welcome visitor. Ganganelli treated her with
the utmost civility--gave her, as a sovereign prince, many
privileges--and she was lodged in the palace of one of the cardinals.
Her vanity being thus gratified, her grace, in return, treated the
Romans with a public spectacle. She had built an elegant pleasure-yacht;
a gentleman who had served in the navy was the commander. Under her
orders he sailed for Italy; and the vessel, at considerable trouble and
expense, was conveyed up the Tiber. The sight of an English yacht in
this river was one of so unusual a character that it attracted crowds of
admirers; but while all seemed happiness and pleasure where the bark
rested quietly on the waters of the river, proceedings were being
concocted in London which would effectually put a stop to any momentary
sensations of bliss which the duchess might entertain.
Mrs. Cradock, who, in the capacity of a domestic, had witnessed the
marriage which had been solemnised between her grace and the Earl of
Bristol, found herself so reduced in circumstances that she was
compelled to apply to Mr. Field for assistance. The request was
rejected; and, notwithstanding her assurance that she was perfectly well
aware of all the circumstances attending the duchess's marriage, and
that she should not hesitate to disclose all she knew in a quarter where
she would be liberally paid--namely, to the disappointed relations of
the Duke of Kingston--she was set at defiance. Thus refused, starvation
stared her in the face; and, stung by the ingratitude of the duchess'
solicitor, she immediately set about the work of ruin which she
contemplated. The Duke of Kingston had borne a marked dislike to one of
his nephews, Mr. Evelyn Meadows, one of the sons of his sister, Lady
Frances Pierpoint. This gentleman being excluded from the presumptive
heirship, joyfully received the intelligence that a method of revenging
himself against the duchess was presented to him. He saw Mrs. Cradock;
learned from her the particulars of the statement, which she would be
able to make upon oath; and, being perfectly
[Illustration: _The Duchess of Kingston forcing her refractory Banker to
cash up._]
satisfied of its truth, he preferred a bill of indictment against the
Duchess of Kingston for bigamy, which was duly returned a true bill.
Notice was immediately given to Mr. Field of the proceedings, and
advices were forthwith sent to the duchess to appear and plead to the
indictment, to prevent a judgment of outlawry.
The duchess's immediate return to England being thus required, she set
about making the necessary preparations for her journey; and as money
was one of the commodities requisite to enable her to commence her
homeward march, she proceeded to the house of Mr. Jenkins, the banker in
Rome, in whose hands she had placed security for the advance of all such
sums as she might require. The opposition of her enemies, however, had
already commenced; they had adopted a line of policy exactly suited to
the lady with whom they had to deal. Mr. Jenkins was out, and could not
be found. She apprised him, by letter, of her intended journey, and her
consequent want of money; but still he avoided seeing her. Suspecting
the trick, her grace was not to be trifled with, and finding all her
efforts fail, she took a pair of pistols in her pocket, and driving to
Mr. Jenkins's house, once again demanded to be admitted. The customary
answer, that Mr. Jenkins was out, was given; but the duchess declared
that she was determined to wait until she saw him, even if it should not
be until a day, month, or year, had elapsed; and she took her seat on
the steps of the door, which she kept open with the muzzle of one of her
pistols, apparently determined to remain there. She knew that business
would compel his return, if he were not already in-doors; and at length,
Mr. Jenkins, finding further opposition useless, appeared. The nature of
her business was soon explained. The conversation was not of the mildest
kind. Money was demanded, not asked. A little prevarication ensued; but
the production of a pistol served as the most powerful mode of
reasoning; and the necessary sum being instantly obtained, the duchess
quitted Rome. Her journey was retarded before she reached the Alps; a
violent fever seemed to seize on her vitals: but she recovered, to the
astonishment of her attendants. An abscess then formed in her side,
which rendering it impossible for her to endure the motion of the
carriage, a kind of litter was provided, in which she slowly travelled.
In this situation nature was relieved by the breaking of the abscess;
and, after a painfully tedious journey, the duchess reached Calais. At
that place she made a pause; and there it was that her apprehension got
the better of her reason. In idea she was fettered and incarcerated in
the worst cell of the worst prison in London. She was totally ignorant
of the bailable nature of her offence, and therefore expected the utmost
that can be imagined. Colonel West, a brother of the late Lord Delaware,
whom the duchess had known in England, became her principal associate;
but he was not lawyer enough to satisfy her doubts. By the means of
former connexions, and through a benevolence in his own nature, the Earl
of Mansfield had a private meeting with the duchess; and the venerable
peer conducted himself in a manner which did honour to his heart and
character.
Her spirits being soothed by the interview, the duchess embarked for
Dover, landed, drove post to Kingston-house, and found friends
displaying both zeal and alacrity in her cause. The first measure taken
was to have the duchess bailed. This was done before Lord Mansfield; the
Duke of Newcastle, Lord Mountstuart, Mr. Glover, and other characters of
rank attending. The prosecution and consequent trial of the duchess
becoming objects of magnitude, the public curiosity and expectation were
proportionably excited. The duchess had through life distinguished
herself as a most eccentric character. Her turn of mind was original,
and many of her actions were without a parallel. Even when she moved in
the sphere of amusement, it was in a style peculiarly her own. If others
invited admiration by a partial display of their charms at a masquerade,
she at once threw off the veil, and set censure at defiance. Thus, at
midnight assemblies, where Bacchus revelled, and the altars of Venus
were encircled by the votaries of love, the duchess, then Miss
Chudleigh, appeared almost in the unadorned simplicity of primitive
nature. The dilemma, therefore, into which she was thrown by the pending
prosecution, was, to such a character, of the most perplexing kind.
She had already in a manner invited the disgrace, and she now neglected
the means of preventing it. Mrs. Cradock, the only existing evidence
against her, again personally solicited a maintenance for the remaining
years of her life; and voluntarily offered, in case a stipend should be
settled on her, to retire to her native village, and never more intrude.
The offer was rejected by the duchess, who would only consent to allow
her twenty pounds a year, on condition of her sequestering herself in
some place near the Peak of Derbyshire. This the duchess considered as a
most liberal offer; and she expressed her astonishment that it should be
rejected.
Under the assurances of her lawyers, the duchess was as quiet as that
troublesome monitor, her own heart, would permit her to be; and
reconciled in some measure to the encounter with which she was about to
meet, her repose was most painfully disturbed by an adversary, who
appeared in a new and most unexpected quarter. This was the celebrated
Foote, the actor, who, having mixed in the first circles of fashion, was
perfectly acquainted with the leading transactions of the duchess's
life, and had resolved to turn his knowledge to his own advantage. As,
in the opinion of Mandeville, private vices are public benefits, so
Foote deemed the crimes and vices of individuals lawful game for his
wit. On this principle he proceeded with the Duchess of Kingston; and he
wrote a piece, founded on her life, called "The Trip to Calais." The
scenes were humorous; the character of the duchess admirably drawn; and
the effect of the performance of the farce on the stage would have been
that which was most congenial to the tastes of the scandal-mongers of
the day--namely, to make the duchess ashamed of herself. The real object
of Mr. Foote, however, was one of a nature more likely to prove
advantageous to himself--it was to obtain money to secure the
suppression of the piece; and with this view he contrived to have it
communicated to her grace that the Haymarket Theatre would open with an
entertainment in which she was taken off to the life. Alarmed at this,
she sent for Foote, who attended with the piece in his pocket; but
having been desired to read it, he had not gone far before the character
of Lady Kitty Crocodile being introduced, the duchess could no longer
control her anger, and rising in a violent rage, she exclaimed, "Why,
this is scandalous; what a wretch you have made me." Mr. Foote assured
her that the character was not intended to "caricature her;"--even in
his serious moments being unable to control his desire to pun--for he
left her to infer that it was a true picture; and the duchess, having
taken a few turns about the room, became more composed, and requested
that the piece might be left for her perusal, engaging that it should
be returned by the ensuing evening. The actor readily complied, and
retired; but the lady being left to consider her own portrait, was so
displeased with the likeness, that she determined, if possible, to
prevent its exposure on the stage. The artist had no objection to sell
his work, and she was inclined to become the purchaser; but on the
former being questioned as to the sum which he should expect for
suppressing the piece, he proportioned his expectations to what he
deemed the duchess's power of gratifying them, and demanded two thousand
guineas, besides a sum to be paid as compensation for the loss of the
scenes, which had been painted for the farce, and which were not
applicable to any other purpose. The magnitude of the demand, as well it
might, staggered the duchess; and having intimated her extreme
astonishment at so exorbitant a proposition, she expressed a wish that
the sum might be fixed at one within the bounds of moderation and
reason. The actor was positive; concluding, that as his was the only
article in the market, he might name his own price: but the result was,
that by demanding too much, he lost all. A cheque for fourteen hundred
pounds was offered; the amount was increased to sixteen hundred pounds,
and a draft on Messrs. Drummond's was actually signed; but the obstinacy
of the actor was so great, that he refused to abate one guinea from his
original demand. The circumstance might at any other time have passed
among the indifferent events of the day, and as wholly undeserving of
the public notice; but those long connected with the duchess, and in
habits of intimacy, felt the attack made on her as directed by a ruffian
hand, at a moment when she was least able to make resistance. His grace
the Duke of Newcastle was consulted. The chamberlain of the household
(the Earl of Hertford) was apprised of the circumstance; and his
prohibitory interference was earnestly solicited. He sent for the
manuscript copy of "The Trip to Calais." perused, and censured it.
But besides these and other powerful aids, the duchess called in
professional advice. The sages of the robe were consulted, and their
opinions were that the piece was a malicious libel; and that, should it
be represented, a short-hand writer ought to be employed to attend on
the night of representation, to minute each offensive passage, as the
groundwork of a prosecution. This advice was followed, and Foote was
intimidated. He denied having made a demand of two thousand guineas; but
the Rev. Mr. Foster contradicted him in an affidavit. Thus defeated in
point of fact, Foote found himself baffled also in point of design. The
chamberlain would not permit the piece to be represented.
Foote now had recourse to another expedient:--He caused it to be
intimated "that it was in his power to publish if not to perform; but
were his expenses reimbursed (and the sum which her grace had formerly
offered would do the business), he would desist." This being
communicated to the duchess, she in this, as in too many cases, asked
the opinion of her friends, with a secret determination to follow her
own. Foote, finding that she began to yield, pressed his desire
incessantly; and she had actually provided bills to the amount of one
thousand six hundred pounds, which she would have given him but for the
Rev. Mr. Jackson, who, being asked his opinion of the demand, returned
this answer: "Instead of complying with it, your grace should obtain
complete evidence of the menace and demand, and then consult your
counsel whether a prosecution will not lie for endeavouring to extort
money by threats. Your grace must remember the attack on the first Duke
of Marlborough by a stranger, who had formed a design either on his
purse or his interest, and endeavoured to menace him into a compliance."
This answer struck the Earl of Peterborough and Mr. Foster very
forcibly, as in perfect coincidence with their own opinions; and Mr.
Jackson was then solicited to wait on Mr. Foote; Mr. Foster, the
chaplain of the duchess, professing himself to be too far advanced in
years to enter into the field of literary combat. Mr. Jackson consented
to be the champion on the following condition--that the duchess would
give her honour never to retract her determination, nor to let Foote
extort from her a single guinea. Her grace subscribing to this
condition, Mr. Jackson waited on Mr. Foote at his house in
Suffolk-street, and intimated to him the resolution to which the duchess
had come. The actor, however, still wished to have matters compromised;
and to this end he addressed a letter to the duchess, which began with
stating "that a member of the privy council and a friend of her grace
(by whom he meant the Duke of Newcastle) had conversed with him on the
subject of the dispute between them; and that, for himself, he was ready
to have everything adjusted." This letter afforded the duchess a
triumph. Every line contained a concession; and, contrary to the advice
of her friends, she insisted upon the publication of the whole
correspondence.
This circumstance for a time served to turn the current of attention
into a new channel. But while the public notice was withdrawn from her
grace, she felt too heavily the necessity which existed to adopt some
course to enable her either to evade or meet the impending danger. Her
line of procedure was soon determined upon--she affected an earnest
desire to have the trial, if possible, accelerated, while in secret she
took every means in her power to evade the measures which her opponents
had taken against her. Her conduct in other respects appears to have
been strangely inconsistent. An opportunity presented itself which
remained only to be embraced to secure her object. It became the subject
of a discussion in the House of Lords whether the trial of her grace
should not be conducted in Westminster Hall; and the expense which would
necessarily be incurred by the country was by many urged as being a
burden which ought not to rest upon the public purse. Lord Mansfield,
privately desiring to save the duchess from the disgrace and ignominy of
a public trial, strove to avail himself of this objection in her favour;
and so great had become the differences of opinion entertained upon the
subject, that the withdrawal of the prosecution altogether would have
been a matter which would have been considered desirable rather than
improper. Here then was the critical moment at which the duchess might
have determined her future fate. A hint was privately conveyed to her
that the sum of ten thousand pounds would satisfy every expectation, and
put an end to the prosecution; and doubts being expressed of the
sincerity of the proposal, the offer was made in distinct terms. The
duchess was entreated by her friends to accept the proposition which was
made, and so at once to relieve herself and them from all fear of the
consequences which might result to her; but through a fatal mistaken
confidence either in the legal construction of her case, or in her own
machinations, she refused to accede to the offers which were held out.
Resting assured of her acquittal, she resisted every attempt at
dissuasion from her purpose of going to trial; and she assumed an air
of indifference about the business which but ill accorded with the
doubtful nature of her position. She talked of the absolute necessity of
setting out for Rome; affected to have some material business to settle
with the Pope; and, in consequence, took every means and urged every
argument in her power to procure the speedy termination of the
proceedings--as if the regular course of justice had not been swift
enough to overtake her. In the midst of her confidence, however, she did
not abandon her manoeuvring; but at the very moment when she was
petitioning for a speedy trial, she was engaged in a scheme to get rid
of the principal witness against her. Mrs. Cradock, to whom before she
had refused a trifling remuneration, might now have demanded thousands
as the price of her evidence. A negotiation was carried on through the
medium of a relation of hers, who was a letter-carrier, which had for
its object her removal from England; and an interview was arranged to
take place between her and the duchess, at which the latter was to
appear disguised, and was to reveal herself only after some
conversation, the object of which was that terms might be proposed; but
her grace was duped: for having changed her clothes to those of a man,
she waited at the appointed hour and place without seeing either Mrs.
Cradock or the person who had promised to effect the meeting; and she
afterwards learned that every particular of this business had been
communicated to the prosecutors, who instructed the letter-carrier to
pretend an acquiescence in the scheme.
Thus baffled in a project which had a plausible appearance of success,
the only method left was the best possible arrangement of matters
preparatory to the trial. On the 15th day of April, 1766, the business
came on in Westminster-hall, when the queen was present, accompanied by
the prince of Wales, princess royal, and others of the royal family.
Many foreign ambassadors also attended, as well as several of the
nobility. These having taken their seats, the duchess came forward,
attended by Mrs. Edgerton, Mrs. Barrington, and Miss Chudleigh, three of
the ladies of her bedchamber, and her chaplain, physician, and
apothecary; and as she approached the bar she made three reverences, and
then dropped on her knees, when the lord high steward said, "Madam, you
may rise." Having risen, she courtesied to the lord high steward and the
house of peers, and her compliments were returned.
Proclamation being made for silence, the lord high steward mentioned to
the prisoner the fatal consequences attending the crime of which she
stood indicted, signifying that, however alarming and awful her present
circumstances, she might derive great consolation from considering that
she was to be tried by the most liberal, candid, and august assembly in
the universe.
The duchess then read a paper, setting forth that she was guiltless of
the offence alleged against her, and that the agitation of her mind
arose, not from the consciousness of guilt, but from the painful
circumstance of being called before so awful a tribunal on a criminal
accusation. She begged, therefore, that if she was deficient in the
observance of any ceremonial points, her failure might not be understood
as proceeding from wilful disrespect, but should be attributed to the
unfortunate peculiarity of her situation. It was added, that she had
travelled from Rome in so dangerous a state of health that it was
necessary for her to be conveyed in a litter; and that she was perfectly
satisfied that she should have a fair trial, since the determination
respecting her cause, on which materially depended her honour and
fortune, would proceed from the most unprejudiced and august assembly in
the world.
The lord high steward then desired the lady to give attention while she
was arraigned on an indictment for bigamy; and proclamation for silence
having been again made, the duchess (who had been permitted to sit)
arose, and read a paper, representing to the Court that she was advised
by her counsel to plead the sentence of the Ecclesiastical Court in the
year 1769 as a bar to her being tried on the present indictment. The
lord high steward informed her that, she must plead to the indictment;
in consequence of which she was arraigned; and being asked by the clerk
of the crown whether she was guilty of the felony with which she stood
charged, she answered, with great firmness, "Not guilty, my lords." The
clerk of the crown then asking her how she would be tried, she said, "By
God and my peers;" on which the clerk said, "God send your ladyship a
good deliverance."
Four days were occupied in arguments of counsel respecting the admission
or rejection of a sentence of the Spiritual Court; but the peers having
decided that it could not be admitted, the trial proceeded. The first
witness examined was
Anne Cradock, whose testimony was as follows:--I have known her grace
the Duchess of Kingston ever since the year 1742, at which time she came
on a visit to the house of Mr. Merrill, at Lainston, in Hampshire,
during the Winchester races. At that time I lived in the service of Mrs.
Hanmer, Miss Chudleigh's aunt, who was then on a visit at Mr. Merrill's,
where Mr. Hervey and Miss Chudleigh first met, and soon conceived a
mutual attachment for each other. They were privately married one
evening at about eleven o'clock in Lainston church, in the presence of
Mr. Mountney, Mrs. Hanmer, the Rev. Mr. Ames, the rector, who performed
the ceremony, and myself. I was ordered out of the church to entice Mr.
Merrill's servants out of the way. I saw the bride and bridegroom put to
bed together, and Mrs. Hanmer obliged them to rise again; they went to
bed together the following night. In a few days Mr. Hervey was under the
necessity of going to Portsmouth in order to join Sir John Danvers's
fleet, in which he was then a lieutenant; and being ordered to call him
at five o'clock in the morning, I went into the bedchamber at the
appointed hour, and found him and his lady sleeping in bed together. I
was unwilling to disturb them, as I thought that the delay of an hour or
two would make no difference, but they afterwards parted. My husband, to
whom I was not then married, accompanied Mr. Hervey in the capacity of
servant. When Mr. Hervey returned from the Mediterranean, he and his
lady lived together, and I then thought that she was pregnant. Some
months after, Mr. Hervey went again to sea, and during his absence I was
informed that the lady was brought to bed; and I was afterwards
confirmed in the information by the lady herself, who said that she had
a little boy at nurse, whose features greatly resembled those of Mr.
Hervey.
In answer to questions put by the Duke of Grafton, the witness said that
she had never seen the child; that it was dark when the marriage took
place in the church, and that Mr. Mountney carried a wax light attached
to the crown of his hat. Upon being asked by the Earl of Hilsborough
whether she had not received a letter containing some offer to induce
her to appear now as a witness, she admitted that Mr. Fossard of
Piccadilly had written to her, offering her a sinecure place on
condition of her coming forward to give evidence against her grace, and
stating that she might, if she pleased, exhibit the letter to the Earl
of Bristol. The cross-examination of the witness on this point was
continued during the remainder of the sitting of their lordships; and on
the following day (the 20th of April) it was resumed, the Earls of
Derby, Hilsborough, and Buckinghamshire questioning her with
considerable acumen. She at length confessed that pecuniary offers had
been made to her to induce her to appear, and that she had acceded to
the terms proposed.
Mrs. Sophia Pettiplace was examined as to the facts deposed to by Mrs.
Cradock; but she was able to afford no positive information upon the
subject. She lived with her grace at the time of the supposed marriage,
but was not present at the ceremony, and only believed that the duchess
had mentioned the circumstance to her.
Cæsar Hawkins, Esq. deposed that he had been acquainted with the duchess
several years, he believed not less than thirty. He had heard of a
marriage between Mr. Hervey and the lady at the bar, which circumstance
was afterwards mentioned to him by both parties, previous to Mr.
Hervey's last going to sea. By the desire of her grace, he was in the
room when the issue of the marriage was born, and once saw the child. He
was sent for by Mr. Hervey soon after his return from sea, and desired
by him to wait upon the lady, with proposals for procuring a divorce,
which he accordingly did; when her grace declared herself absolutely
determined against listening to such terms; and he knew that many
messages passed on the subject. Her grace some time after informed him,
at his own house, that she had instituted a jactitation suit against Mr.
Hervey in Doctors' Commons. On another visit she appeared very grave,
and desiring him to retire into another apartment, said she was
exceedingly unhappy, in consequence of an oath, which she had long
dreaded, having been tendered to her at Doctors' Commons to disavow her
marriage, which she would not do for ten thousand worlds. Upon another
visit, a short time after, she informed him that a sentence had passed
in her favour at Doctors' Commons, which would be irrevocable unless Mr.
Hervey pursued certain measures within a limited time, which she did not
apprehend he would do. Hereupon he inquired how she got over the oath;
and her reply was, that the circumstance of her marriage was so blended
with falsities, that she could easily reconcile the matter to her
conscience; since the ceremony was a business of so scrambling and
shabby a nature, that she could as safely swear she was _not_ as that
she _was_ married.
Judith Philips, being called, swore that she was the widow of the Rev.
Mr. Ames; that she remembered when her late husband performed the
marriage ceremony between Mr. Hervey and the prisoner; that she was not
present, but derived her information from her husband; that some time
after the marriage the lady desired her to prevail upon her husband to
grant a certificate, which she said she believed her husband would not
refuse; that Mr. Merrill, who accompanied the lady, advised her to
consult his attorney from Worcester; that in compliance with the
attorney's advice, a register-book was purchased, and the marriage
inserted therein, with some late burials in the parish. The book was
here produced, and the witness swore to the writing of her late
husband.
The writing of the Rev. Mr. Ames was also proved by the Rev. Mr. Inchin
and the Rev. Mr. Dennis; and the entry of a caveat to the duke's will
was proved by a clerk from Doctors' Commons. The book in which the
marriage of the Duke of Kingston with the lady at the bar was registered
on the 8th of March, 1769, was produced by the Rev. Mr. Trebeck, of St.
Margaret's, Westminster; and the Rev. Mr. Samuel Harpur, of the British
Museum, swore that he performed the marriage ceremony between the
parties on the day mentioned in the books produced by Mr. Trebeck.
Monday, the 22nd of April, after the attorney-general had declared the
evidence on behalf of the prosecution to be concluded, the lord high
steward called upon the prisoner for her defence, which she read; and
the following are the most material arguments it contained to invalidate
the evidence adduced for the prosecutor:--She appealed to the Searcher
of all hearts, that she never considered herself as legally married to
Mr. Hervey; she said that she considered herself as a single woman, and
as such was addressed by the late Duke of Kingston; and that, influenced
by a legitimate attachment to his grace, she instituted a suit in the
Ecclesiastical Court, when her supposed marriage with Mr. Hervey was
declared null and void; but, anxious for every conscientious as well as
legal sanction, she submitted an authentic statement of her case to the
Archbishop of Canterbury, who, in the most decisive and unreserved
manner, declared that she was at liberty to marry, and afterwards
granted, and delivered to Dr. Collier, a special licence for her
marriage with the late Duke of Kingston. She said that on her marriage
she experienced every mark of gracious esteem from their majesties, and
her late royal mistress, the Princess Dowager of Wales, and was publicly
recognized as Duchess of Kingston. Under such respectable sanctions and
virtuous motives for the conduct she pursued, strengthened by a decision
that had been esteemed conclusive and irrevocable for the space of seven
centuries, if their lordships should deem her guilty on any rigid
principle of law, she hoped, nay, she was conscious, they would
attribute her failure as proceeding from a mistaken judgment and
erroneous advice, and would not censure her for intentional guilt. She
bestowed the highest encomiums on the deceased duke, and solemnly
assured the Court that she had in no one instance abused her ascendency
over him; and that so far from endeavouring to engross his possessions,
she had declared herself amply provided for by that fortune for life
which he was extremely anxious to bequeath to her in perpetuity. As to
the neglect of the duke's eldest nephew, she said it was entirely the
consequence of his disrespectful behaviour to her; and she was not
dissatisfied at a preference to another nephew, whose respect and
attention to her had been such as the duke judged to be her due on her
advancement to the honour of being the wife of his grace.
The lord high steward then desired Mr. Wallace to proceed with the
evidence on behalf of the duchess. The advocate stated the nature of the
evidence he meant to produce to prove that Anne Cradock had asserted to
different people that she had no recollection of the marriage between
Mr. Hervey and the lady at the bar; and that she placed a reliance on a
promise of having a provision made for her in consequence of the
evidence she was to give on the present trial: and to invalidate the
depositions of Judith Philips, he ordered the clerk to read a letter,
wherein she supplicated her grace to exert her influence to prevent her
husband's discharge from the duke's service; and observed, that Mrs.
Philips had, on the preceding day, sworn that her husband was not
dismissed, but voluntarily quitted his station in the household of his
grace.
Mr. Wallace called Mr. Berkley, Lord Bristol's attorney, who said his
lordship told him he was desirous of obtaining a divorce, and directed
him to Anne Cradock, saying she was the only person then living who was
present at his marriage; and that a short time previous to the
commencement of the jactitation suit, he waited upon Anne Cradock, who
informed him that her memory was bad, and that she could remember
nothing perfectly in relation to the marriage, which must have been a
long time before.
Anne Pritchard deposed, that about three months before she had been
informed by Mrs. Cradock that she expected to be provided for soon after
the trial, and that she expected to be enabled to procure a place in the
Custom-house for one of her relations.
This being the whole of the evidence to be produced on behalf of her
grace, the lord high steward addressed their lordships, saying, that the
evidence on both sides having been heard, it now became their lordships'
duty to proceed to the consideration of the case; that the importance
and solemnity of the occasion required that they should severally
pronounce their opinions in the absence of the prisoner at the bar, and
that it was for the junior baron to speak first.
The prisoner having then been removed, their lordships declared that
they found her guilty of the offence imputed to her.
Proclamation was then made that the usher of the black rod should
replace the prisoner at the bar; and immediately on her appearing, the
lord high steward informed her that the lords had maturely considered
the evidence adduced against her, as well as the testimony of the
witnesses who had been called on her behalf, and that they had
pronounced her guilty of the felony for which she was indicted. He then
inquired whether she had anything to say why judgment should not be
pronounced against her?
The duchess immediately handed in a paper containing the words, "I plead
the privilege of the peerage," which were read by the clerk at the
table.
The lord high steward then informed her grace that the lords had
considered the plea, and agreed to allow it, adding, "Madam, you will be
discharged on paying the usual fees."
The duchess during the trial appeared to be perfectly collected, but on
sentence being pronounced she fainted, and was carried out of court.
This solemnity was concluded on the 22nd of April, 1776; but the
prosecutors still had a plan in embryo to confine the person of the
Countess of Bristol, for to this rank she was now again reduced, to the
kingdom, and to deprive her of her personal property; and a writ of _ne
exeat regno_ was actually in the course of preparation: but private
notice being conveyed to her of this circumstance, she was advised
immediately to quit the country. In order to conceal her flight, she
caused her carriage to be driven publicly through the streets, and
invited a large party to dine at her house; but, without waiting to
apologise to her guests, she drove to Dover in a post-chaise, and there
entering a boat with Mr. Harvey, the captain of her yacht, she
accompanied him to Calais. Circumstances of which she had been advised,
and which had occurred during the period of her absence from Rome,
rendered her immediate presence in that city necessary, and proceeding
thither, without loss of time, she found that a Spanish friar, whom she
had left in charge of her palace and furniture, had found means to
convert her property into money, and after having seduced a young
English girl, who had also been left in the palace, had absconded.
Having now obtained the whole of her plate from the public bank where
she had deposited it, she returned to Calais, which she adopted as the
best place at which she could fix her residence, in consequence of the
expeditious communication which existed between that town and London, by
means of which she might be afforded the earliest intelligence of the
proceedings of her opponents. Their business was now to set aside, if
possible, the will of the Duke of Kingston. There was no probability of
the success of the attempt, but there was sufficient doubt upon the
subject in the mind of the countess to keep all her apprehensions alive.
The will of his grace of Kingston, however, received every confirmation
which the courts of justice could give, and the object of the countess
now was to dissipate rather than expend the income of his estates. A
house which she had purchased at Calais was not sufficient for her
purpose; a mansion at Mont Martre, near Paris, was fixed on, and the
purchase of it was negotiated in as short a time as the duchess could
desire. There were only a few obstacles to enjoyment which were not
considered until the purchase was completed. The house was in so ruinous
a condition as to be in momentary danger of falling. The land was more
like the field of the slothful than the vineyard of the industrious; and
these evils were not perceived by the countess till she was in
possession of her wishes. A lawsuit with the owner of the estate was the
consequence, and the countess went to St. Petersburgh, and there turned
brandy distiller, and returned to Paris before it was concluded. The
possession of such a place, however, was not sufficient for the
countess, and she proceeded to make a second purchase of a house, built
upon a scale of infinite grandeur. The brother of the existing French
king was the owner of a domain, suited in every respect for the
residence of a person of such nobility, and the countess determined to
become its mistress. It was called the territory of St. Assise, and was
situated at a pleasant distance from Paris, abounding in game of all
descriptions, and rich in all the luxuriant embellishments of nature.
The mansion was of a size which rendered it fit for the occupation of a
king; it contained three hundred beds. The value of such an estate was
too considerable to be expected in one payment: she therefore agreed to
discharge the whole of the sum demanded, which was fifty-five thousand
pounds, by instalments. The purchase on the part of the countess was a
good one. It afforded not only game, but rabbits in plenty; and finding
them of superior quality and flavour, her ladyship, during the first
week of her possession, had as many killed and sold as brought her three
hundred guineas. At St. Petersburgh she had been a distiller of brandy;
and now at Paris she turned rabbit-merchant.
Such was her situation, when one day, while she was at dinner, her
servants received the intelligence that judgment respecting the house
near Paris had been awarded against her. The sudden communication of the
news produced an agitation of her whole frame. She flew into a violent
passion, and burst an internal blood-vessel: but she appeared to have
surmounted even this, until a few days afterwards, when preparing to
rise from her bed, a servant who had long been with her endeavoured to
dissuade her from her purpose. The countess said, "I am not very well,
but I will rise;" and on a remonstrance being attempted, she said, "At
your peril disobey me: I will get up and walk about the room; ring for
the secretary to assist me." She was obeyed, dressed, and the secretary
entered the chamber. The countess then walked about, complained of
thirst, and said, "I could drink a glass of my fine Madeira, and eat a
slice of toasted bread. I shall be quite well afterwards; but let it be
a large glass of wine." The attendant reluctantly brought, and the
countess drank the wine. She then said, "I am perfectly recovered; I
knew the Madeira would do me good. My heart feels oddly. I will have
another glass." The servant here observed that such a quantity of wine
in the morning might intoxicate rather than benefit. The countess
persisted in her orders, and the second glass of Madeira being produced,
she drank that also, and pronounced herself to be charmingly indeed. She
then walked a little about the room, and afterwards said, "I will lie
down on the couch; I can sleep, and after that I shall be entirely
recovered." She seated herself on the couch, a female having hold of
each hand. In this situation she soon appeared to have fallen into a
sound sleep, until the women felt her hands colder than ordinary, and
she was found to have expired. She died August 26th, 1796.
PETER LE MAITRE.
CONVICTED OF ROBBING THE ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM AT OXFORD.
When Lord Thurlow was chancellor of England some villains broke into his
house, in Great Ormond-street, and stole the great seal of England,
which was never recovered, nor were the thieves known. We have heard
also of a valuable diamond being stolen from the late Duke of
Cumberland, when pressing into the theatre in the Haymarket to see the
bubble of the bottle conjurer. It is also a fact that the Duke of
Beaufort was robbed of his diamond order of St. George as he went to
Court on a royal birthday; but we have yet to tell that a museum was
robbed of its curious medals.
Peter Le Maitre, the thief, was a French teacher at Oxford, and being
supposed to be a man of industry and good morals, he was indulged with
free admission to the Ashmolean Museum. Thither he frequently went, and
appeared very studious over the rare books, and other valuable articles
there deposited. He was frequently left alone to his researches. At one
of such times he stole two medals, and at another he secreted himself
until the doors were locked for the night. When all had retired he came
from his lurking-place, and broke open the cabinet where the medals were
locked up, and possessed himself of its contents; he then wrenched a bar
from the window, and, unsuspected, made his escape.
The college was thrown into the utmost consternation on finding their
Museum thus plundered. Some were suspected, but least of all Le Maitre,
until it was discovered that he had privately left the city in a
post-chaise and four, and that he had pledged two of the stolen medals
to pay the post-boys. This left little doubt that he was the ungrateful
thief. He was advertised and described, and by this means apprehended in
Ireland.
He was conveyed back to Oxford, in order to take his trial; and it
appeared that two of the stolen medals were found in a bureau in his
lodgings, of which he had the use; and two more were traced to the
persons to whom he had sold them.
He had little to offer in extenuation of his crime, and on the clearest
evidence he was found guilty on the 7th March, 1777; and he paid the
penalty of his offence by enduring five years' hard labour at
ballast-heaving on the river Thames.
Whether the ungrateful depredation of Le Maitre stimulated others to the
commission of similar crimes we know not, but it is certain that soon
afterwards Magdalen College Chapel, Oxford, was broken open by two
thieves, who stole from the altar a pair of large silver candlesticks
and a silver dish, with which they escaped undetected.
DAVID BROWN DIGNUM.
CONVICTED OF PRETENDING TO SELL PLACES UNDER GOVERNMENT.
The case of this offender may be well looked upon as a warning to many
of those whose advertisements are daily seen in the newspapers of the
present day, offering a premium to any person who will find a situation
for the advertiser. Many persons have recently been duped in their
search after employment, by fellows who have obtained their money by
means of false pretences; but few have gone the length to pretend to put
the advertiser in possession of the place which he sought.
Dignum was indicted on the 5th of April, 1777, at the Guildhall,
Westminster, for defrauding Mr. John Clarke of the sum of one hundred
pounds two shillings and tenpence, which he had obtained from him under
pretence of investing him with the office of clerk of the minutes in his
majesty's custom-house in Dublin. The evidence in the case was very
simple. The negotiation was commenced between Mr. Clarke and the
prisoner at an early period in the year; and the money having been paid
over, the prisoner handed to the prosecutor a stamped paper or warrant,
bearing the signature of Lord Weymouth, and countersigned by "Thomas
Daw," which he told him would enable him to assume the office which it
mentioned. Upon his proceeding to do so, however, he was found to have
been hoaxed; and upon inquiry, he discovered that the signatures were
forged, and that the seals attached to the warrant had been taken from
some other instrument. The jury immediately found the prisoner guilty;
but the magistrates hesitated a long time on the punishment which should
be inflicted on such an offender, and at length sentenced him to work
five years on the river Thames.
The prisoner, while in Tothill-fields Bridewell, tried every means in
his power to effect his escape, and offered to bribe an attendant in the
prison with a bank-note of ten pounds, to favour his escape in a large
chest. Upon his conviction, no time was now lost in conveying him on
board the ballast-lighter. Being possessed of plenty of money, and
having high notions of gentility, he went to Woolwich in a post-chaise,
with his negro servant behind, expecting that his money would procure
every indulgence in his favour, and that his servant would be still
admitted to attend him: but in this he was egregiously mistaken. The
keepers of the lighter would not permit him to come on board, and Dignum
was immediately put to the duty of the wheelbarrow.
On Monday, the 5th of May, Dignum sent a forged draft for five hundred
pounds for acceptance to Mr. Drummond, banker, at Charing-cross, who,
discovering the imposition, carried the publishers before Sir John
Fielding: but they were discharged; and it was intended to procure an
habeas corpus to remove Dignum to London for examination.
This plan, however, was soon seen through; for, on consideration, it
seemed evident that Dignum, by sending the forged draft from on board
the lighter, preferred the chance of escape, even though death presented
itself on the other side, to his situation; so that no further steps
were taken in the affair, and he remained at work for the period to
which he was sentenced by the laws of his country.
JAMES HILL, _alias_ HIND, _alias_ ATKINS, _alias_ JOHN THE PAINTER.
EXECUTED FOR FIRING PORTSMOUTH DOCK-YARD.
A more dangerous character than this has rarely existed. His offence was
of a nature aimed at the very safety of the kingdom, and, if successful,
and followed up by the operations of his more powerful friends, for
whose benefit it eventually appeared that he had committed the foul
crime of which he was guilty, the most disastrous consequences might
have ensued.
Hill, it appears, was a Scotchman by birth, and was by trade a painter;
from which circumstance he obtained the name by which he is generally
known, of "John the Painter." Having gone to America at an early age,
during a residence there of some years, he imbibed principles opposed to
the interests of his own country. Transported with party zeal, he formed
the desperate resolution of committing a most atrocious crime against
the welfare of England--namely, the burning of the dock-yards at
Portsmouth and Plymouth. At about four o'clock in the afternoon of the
7th of December, 1776, a fire broke out in the round-house of Portsmouth
dock, by which the whole of that building was consumed, and from whose
ravages the rest of the surrounding warehouses were with difficulty
saved. The fire was at first attributed to accident; but on the 5th of
January following, three men, who were engaged in the hemp-house,
discovered a tin machine, somewhat resembling a tea-canister, and near
the same spot a wooden box, containing various kinds of combustibles.
This circumstance being communicated to the commissioner of the dock,
and circulated among the public, several vague and indefinite suspicions
fell upon Hill, who had been lurking about the dock-yard, where he was
distinguished by the appellation of "John the Painter."
In consequence of advertisements in the newspapers, offering a reward of
fifty pounds for apprehending him, he was secured at Odiham, and on the
17th of February the prisoner was examined at Sir John Fielding's
office, Bow-street, where John Baldwin, who exercised the trade of a
painter in different parts of America, attended, by the direction of
Lord Temple. The prisoner's conversations with Baldwin operated very
materially to secure his conviction.
He had said he had taken a view of most of the dock-yards and
fortifications about England, the number of ships in the navy, and had
observed their weight of metal and their number of men, and had been to
France two or three times to inform Silas Deane, the American envoy, of
his discoveries; that Deane gave him bills to the amount of three
hundred pounds, and letters of recommendation to a merchant in the city,
which he had burned, lest they should lead to a discovery. He informed
Baldwin further, that he had instructed a tinman's apprentice at
Canterbury to make him a tin canister, which he carried to Portsmouth,
where he hired a lodging at one Mrs. Boxall's, and tried his
preparations for setting fire to the dock-yard. After recounting the
manner of preparing matches and combustibles, he said that, on the 6th
of the preceding December, he got into the hemp-house, and having placed
a candle in a wooden box, and a tin canister over it, and sprinkled
turpentine over some of the hemp, he proceeded to the rope-house, where
he placed a bottle of turpentine among the loose hemp, which he
sprinkled also with turpentine; and having laid matches, made of paper
daubed over with powdered charcoal and gun powder diluted with water,
and other combustibles, about the place, he returned to his lodgings.
These matches were so contrived as to continue burning for twenty-four
hours, so that by cutting them into proper lengths he might provide for
his escape, knowing the precise time when the fire would reach the
combustibles. He had hired lodgings in two other houses to which he also
intended to set fire, that the engines might not be all employed
together in quenching the conflagration at the dock. On the 7th he again
went to the hemp-house, intending to set it on fire; but he was unable
to effect his object, owing to a halfpenny-worth of common house matches
that he had bought not being sufficiently dry. This disappointment, he
said, rendered him exceedingly uneasy, and he went from the hemp-house
to the rope-house, and set fire to the matches he had placed there. His
uneasiness was increased because he could not return to his lodging,
where he had left a bundle containing an "Ovid's Metamorphoses," a
"Treatise on War and making Fireworks," a "Justin," a pistol, and a
French passport, in which his real name was inserted; and also because
he could not fire them too, in accordance with his original plan.
When he had set fire to the rope-house he proceeded towards London,
deeply regretting his failure in attempting to fire the other building,
and was strongly inclined to discharge a pistol into the windows of the
women who had sold him the bad matches. He jumped into a cart, and gave
the woman who drove it sixpence to induce her to drive quick; and when
he had passed the sentinels, he observed that the fire had made so rapid
a progress that the elements seemed in a blaze. At about ten o'clock the
next morning he arrived at Kingston, and having remained there until
dusk, at that time he proceeded on towards London in the stage. Soon
after his arrival, he went to the house of the gentleman on whom the
bills had been drawn, but having related his story, he was received with
distrust, and therefore went away. On his reaching Hammersmith he wrote
back to the merchant, saying that he was going to Bristol; and he added,
that "the handy works he meant to perform there would soon be known to
the public." Soon after his arrival in Bristol, he set fire to several
houses, which were all burning at one time and the flames were not
extinguished until damage to the amount of 15,000_l._ had been caused.
He also set fire to some combustibles which he had placed among the
oil-barrels on the quay; but in this instance without the effect which
he desired.
His trial commenced on the 6th of March, 1777, at Winchester Castle,
when witnesses were produced from different parts of the country, who
proved the whole of his confession to Baldwin to be true, and gave other
evidence of his guilt.
When called upon for his defence, he complained of the reports
circulated to his prejudice; and observed, that it was easy for such a
man as Baldwin to feign the story he had told, and for a number of
witnesses to be collected to give it support. He declared that God alone
knew whether he was, or was not, the person who set fire to the
dock-yard; and begged it might be attended to how far Baldwin ought to
be credited: that if he had art enough, by lies, to insinuate anything
out of him, his giving it to the knowledge of others was a breach of
confidence; and if he would speak falsely to deceive him, he might also
impose upon a jury.
The learned judge having delivered his charge to the jury, after a
moment's consideration, they returned a verdict of Guilty. The sentence
of death was immediately passed upon the prisoner, and he was ordered
for execution on the 10th of March following, when he was hanged within
sight of the ruins which he had occasioned.
His body for several years hung in chains on Blockhouse Point, on the
opposite side of the harbour to the town.
To these particulars we shall add his confession. On the morning after
his condemnation he informed the turnkey, of his own accord, that he
felt an earnest desire to confess his crime, and to lay the history of
his life before the public; and that by discovering the whole of his
unaccountable plots and treasonable practices, he might make some
atonement to his injured country for the wrongs he had done it, of which
he was now truly sensible.
This request being made known to the Earl of Sandwich, then first lord
of the admiralty, that nobleman directed Sir John Fielding to send down
proper persons to take and attest his confession.
He said that the diabolical scheme of setting fire to the dock-yards and
the shipping originated in his own wicked mind, on the very breaking out
of the rebellion in America; and he had no peace until he proceeded to
put it in practice. The more he thought of it, the more practicable it
appeared; and with this wicked intent he crossed the Atlantic. He had no
sooner landed than he proceeded to take surveys of the different
dock-yards; and he then went to Paris, and had several conferences with
Silas Deane, the rebel minister to the court of France. Deane was
astonished at Hill's proposals, which embraced the destruction of the
English dock-yards and the shipping; but finding the projector an
enthusiast in the cause of America, and a man of daring spirit, he
gradually listened to his schemes, and supplied him with money to enable
him to carry them into execution, procured him a French passport, and
gave him a letter of credit on a merchant in London. He then confirmed
the evidence given against him, and in particular that of the witness
Baldwin; and he added, that had he been successful in his attempt upon
Portsmouth and Plymouth dock-yards, he should have been rewarded with a
commission in the American navy.
FRANCIS MERCIER, _alias_ LOUIS DE BUTTE.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this criminal was attended by circumstances of very great
atrocity. The malefactor and his unfortunate victim were natives of
France.
The unfortunate Jacques Mondroyte was a jeweller and watchmaker of
Paris, and had made a journey to London, in order to find a market for
different articles of his manufacture. His stock consisted of curious
and costly trinkets, worth, as was computed, a few thousand pounds. He
took lodgings in Prince's-street, and engaged Mercier, who had resided
some time in London, as his interpreter, on a liberal gratuity, and
treated him as a friend.
It appeared that the ungrateful villain had long determined upon
murdering his employer, in order to possess himself of the whole of his
valuable property. To this diabolical end, he gave orders for an
instrument to be made of a singular construction, which was a principal
means of leading to his discovery as the murderer. It was shaped
somewhat like an Indian tomahawk; and this instrument of death he
concealed until an opportunity offered to effect his detestable purpose.
One day, his employer, Monsieur Mondroyte, invited him to spend the
evening: they played at cards, sang some French songs, and took a
cheerful glass, but with that moderation peculiarly observable among
Frenchmen; and a late hour having arrived, the kind heart of the host
forbade his dismissing his friend without offering him a bed for the
night. The offer was accepted after some hesitation, and both parties
retired to rest. As soon as the neighbours were wrapped in sleep,
Mercier took from the lining of his coat, where it had remained
constantly concealed, the fatal weapon which had been prepared, and with
it he struck his victim repeated blows on the head until he killed him.
He then thrust the body into one of the trunks in which the owner had
brought over his merchandise, and having ransacked and plundered the
apartments, he locked the doors and made his escape.
On the next day he had the hardihood to return to the house, and to
inquire whether Monsieur Mondroyte had set off, pretending that he had
proposed a journey into the country; and the people of the house
concluding that he had let himself out before they had risen, and that
this accounted for their finding the street door on the latch, replied
that he must have departed, giving that circumstance as a reason for
such belief. This audacious farce was acted by the murderer for some
days, during which time he frequently called to know whether his friend
had returned. The family, however, beginning to entertain suspicions of
some foul play, procured a ladder, entered the chamber window of their
unfortunate lodger, and soon discovered the body crammed into the trunk,
which was only two feet four inches long, already beginning to putrefy.
There appeared on the head several deep wounds.
A warrant was thereupon granted to apprehend Mercier, who was taken just
as he was alighting from a post-chaise, in which he had been jaunting
with a woman of the town. In his lodgings, and on his person, were found
sixteen gold watches, some of great value; a great number of brilliant
diamond and other rings; a variety of gold trinkets; and seventy-five
guineas.
On his examination he confessed his guilt, which, added to the proof
that the manufactured articles had been the property of Mondroyte,
secured his conviction. He was subsequently tried at the Old Bailey, and
a verdict of Guilty being returned, he was sentenced to be hanged on the
following Monday.
He was carried to execution opposite the place where he committed the
murder; and no man ever met death with more dread. He used every evasion
to prolong the fatal hour, repeatedly craving time for his devotions,
until the sheriff, perceiving his motive, gave the signal, and he was
turned off, on the 8th of December 1777, amidst the execrations of the
surrounding spectators.
JOHN HOLMES AND PETER WILLIAMS.
WHIPPED FOR STEALING DEAD BODIES.
These impious robbers were of a class now, happily, no longer in
existence, thanks to the exertions of modern legislators, who have made
such enactments as render the stealing dead bodies no longer profitable.
The names by which such fellows were formerly known were
"resurrectionists," and "body-snatchers;" and so common--nay, so
necessary was their trade for the purposes of science, that it was
carried on without the smallest attempt at concealment. A monthly
publication, in March 1776, says, "The remains of more than twenty dead
bodies were discovered in a shed in Tottenham-court-road, supposed to
have been deposited there by traders to the surgeons, of whom there is
one, it is said, in the Borough, who makes an open profession of dealing
in dead bodies, and is well known by the name of "The Resurrectionist."
It is notorious that when Hunter, the famous anatomist, was in full
practice, he had a surgical theatre behind his house in Windmill-street,
where he gave lectures to a very numerous class of pupils, demonstrating
upon stolen "subjects." To this place such numbers of dead bodies were
brought during the winter season, that the mob rose several times, and
were upon the point of pulling down his house. Numberless were the
instances of dead bodies being seized on their way to the surgeons; and
it was known that hackney-coachmen, for an extra fare, and porters with
hampers, were often employed by the resurrection-men to convey their
plunder to its market.
In more recent days the establishment of Brookes, which was carried on
for a purpose exactly similar to that of Hunter, has been equally well
known to be supplied in the same manner. But at the same time that such
a trade must have been most disgusting, and its effects most harrowing
to persons, the bodies of whose friends or relations may have been
carried off to be placed under the knife of the anatomist, every excuse
must be made for those by whom it was supported. The advancement of
science was most desirable to be obtained, and most important for the
existing generation; and where the law was deficient in providing the
proper means of obtaining this great end, it became requisite that
measures, unlawful in themselves, it must be owned, should be adopted
to secure an object, the absolute necessity of which was universally
admitted.
Provisions have recently been made by Parliament, by which all
body-stealing has been effectually stopped. The bodies of unclaimed
paupers and suicides are now submitted to the anatomist; and under the
excellent arrangements of a superintendant officer who is appointed, all
hospitals and schools are well supplied, the number of bodies at his
disposal being generally more than adequate to meet the demand. It
should be added, that the remains are invariably buried with all that
decorum and respect, which would be observed in the interment of a body
under other circumstances.
But to proceed to the case now before us. Holmes, the principal
offender, was grave-digger of St. George's, Bloomsbury; Williams was his
assistant; and a woman named Esther Donaldson was charged as an
accomplice. They were all indicted, in December 1777, for stealing the
body of Mrs. Jane Sainsbury, who departed this life on the 9th of
October then last past, and whose corpse had been interred in the
burying-ground of St. George's on the Monday following. They were
detected before they could secure their booty; and the widower, however
unpleasant, determined to prosecute them. In order to secure their
conviction, he had to undergo the painful task of viewing and
identifying the remains of his wife.
The grave-digger and his deputy were convicted on the fullest evidence;
and the acquittal of the woman was much regretted, as no doubt remained
of her equal guilt. She was therefore released; but Holmes and Williams
were sentenced to six months' imprisonment, and to be whipped twice on
their bare backs from the end of Kingsgate-street, Holborn, to
Dyot-street, St. Giles's, a distance of half a mile. The sentence was
duly carried out, amidst crowds of well-satisfied and approving
spectators.
DR. WILLIAM DODD.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The character and the offence of this unfortunate divine are too well
known to render it necessary that any introduction to the recital of the
circumstances of his case should be attempted.
Dr. Dodd was the eldest son of a clergyman who held the vicarage of
Bourne in the county of Lincoln, and was born at Bourne on the 29th of
May 1729; and after finishing his school education, was admitted a sizar
of Clare Hall, Cambridge, in the year 1745, under the tuition of Mr.
John Courtail, afterwards Archdeacon of Lewes. At the University he
acquired the approbation of his superiors by his close attention to his
studies; and at the close of the year 1749 he took his first degree of
bachelor of arts with considerable reputation, his name being included
in the list of wranglers. It was not only in his academical pursuits,
however, that he was emulous of distinction. Having a pleasing manner, a
genteel address, and a lively imagination, he was equally celebrated for
his accomplishments and his learning. In particular he was fond of the
elegances of dress, and became, as he ludicrously expressed it, "a
zealous votary of
[Illustration: _Resurrectionists._]
the god of Dancing," to whose service he dedicated much of that time
which he could borrow from his more important avocations.
The talent which he possessed was very early displayed to the public;
and by the time he had attained the age of eighteen years, prompted by
the desire of fame, and perhaps also to increase his income, he
commenced author, in which character he began to obtain some degree of
reputation. At this period of his life, young, thoughtless, volatile and
inexperienced, he precipitately quitted the University, and, relying
entirely on his pen, removed to the metropolis, where he entered largely
into the gaieties of the town, and followed every species of amusement
with the most dangerous avidity. In this course, however, he did not
continue long. To the surprise of his friends, who least suspected him
of taking such a step, without fortune, and destitute of all means of
supporting a family, he hastily united himself, on the 15th of April
1751, in marriage with Miss Mary Perkins, daughter of one of the
domestics of Sir John Dolben, a young lady then residing in
Frith-street, Soho, who, though endowed with personal attractions, was
deficient in those of birth and fortune. To a person circumstanced as
Mr. Dodd then was, no measure could be more imprudent, or apparently
more ruinous and destructive to his future prospects in life. He did
not, however, seem to view it in that light, but, with a degree of
thoughtlessness natural to him, he immediately took and furnished a
house in Wardour-street. His friends now began to be alarmed at his
situation, and his father came to town in great distress upon the
occasion; and in consequence of the advice which he gave him, his son
quitted his house before the commencement of winter, and, urged by the
same preceptor, he was induced to adopt a new plan for his future
subsistence. On the 19th of October in the same year, he was ordained a
deacon by the Bishop of Ely, at Caius College, Cambridge; and, with more
prudence than he had ever shown before, he now devoted himself with
great assiduity to the study and duties of his profession. In these
pursuits he appeared so sincere, that he even renounced all his
attention to his favourite objects--polite letters. At the end of his
preface to the "Beauties of Shakspeare," published in this year, he
says, "For my own part, better and more important things henceforth
demand my attention; and I here with no small pleasure take leave of
Shakspeare and the critics. As this work was begun and finished before I
entered upon the sacred function in which I am now happily employed, let
me trust this juvenile performance will prove no objection, since
graver, and some very eminent, members of the Church have thought it no
improper employ to comment upon, explain, and publish the works of their
own country poets."
The first service in which he was engaged as a clergyman was to assist
the Rev. Mr. Wyatt, vicar of West Ham, as his curate: thither he
removed, and there he spent the happiest and more honourable moments of
his life. His behaviour was proper, decent, and exemplary. It acquired
for him the respect and secured for him the favour of his parishioners
so far, that on the death of their lecturer, in 1752, he was chosen to
succeed him. His abilities had at this time every opportunity of being
shown to advantage; and his exertions were so properly directed, that he
soon became a favourite and popular preacher. Those who were at this
period of his life acquainted with his character and his talents, bear
testimony to the indefatigable zeal which he exhibited in his ministry,
and the success with which his efforts were crowned. The follies of his
youth seemed entirely past, and his friends viewed the alteration in his
conduct with the greatest satisfaction; while the world promised itself
an example to hold out for the imitation of others. At this early season
of his life, he entertained sentiments favourable towards the opinions
of Mr. Hutchinson, and he was suspected to incline towards Methodism;
but subsequent consideration confirmed his belief in the doctrines of
the Established Church. In 1752 he was selected lecturer of St. James,
Garlick-hill, which, two years afterwards, he exchanged for the same
post at St. Olave, Hart-street; and about the same time he was appointed
to preach Lady Moyer's lectures at St. Paul's, where, from the visit of
the three angels to Abraham, and other similar passages in the Old
Testament, he endeavoured to prove the commonly-received doctrine of the
Trinity. On the establishment of the Magdalen House in 1758, he was
amongst the first and most active promoters of that excellent charitable
institution, which derived great advantage from his zeal for its
prosperity, and which, even up to the unhappy termination of his life,
continued to be materially benefited by the exercise of his talents in
its behalf. His exertions, however, were not confined to this hospital,
but he was also one of the promoters of the Society for the Relief of
Poor Debtors, and of the Humane Society for the recovery of persons
apparently drowned.
From the time that he entered upon the service of the Church, Dr. Dodd
had resided at West Ham, and made up the deficiency in his income by
superintending the education of a few young gentlemen who were placed
under his care; an occupation for which he was well fitted. In 1759 he
took the degree of Master of Arts, and in 1763 he was appointed chaplain
in ordinary to the King; and about the same time he became acquainted
with Dr. Squire, the bishop of St. David's, who received him into his
patronage, presented him to the prebend of Brecon, and recommended him
to the Earl of Chesterfield as a proper person to be intrusted with the
tuition of his successor in the title. The following year saw him
chaplain to the King; and in 1766 he took the degree of Doctor of Laws
at Cambridge.
The expectations which he had long entertained of succeeding to the
rectory of West Ham now appeared hopeless; and having given up all
prospect of their being realised, after having been twice disappointed,
he resigned his lectureship both there and in the City, and quitted the
place--"a place," said he to Lord Chesterfield in a dedication to a
sermon entitled "Popery inconsistent with the natural Rights of Men in
general, and Englishmen in particular," published in 1768, "ever dear,
and ever regretted by me, the loss of which, truly affecting to my mind
(for there I was useful, and there I trust I was loved), nothing but
your lordship's friendship and connexion could have counterbalanced."
The "Thoughts in Prison" of the unfortunate gentleman contain a passage
of a similar tendency, from which it may be inferred that he was
compelled to quit this his favourite residence; a circumstance which he
pathetically laments, and probably with great reason, as the first step
to that change in his situation which led him insensibly to his last
fatal catastrophe.
On his quitting West Ham, he removed to a house in Southampton-row; and
at the same time he launched out into scenes of expense, which his
income, although now by no means a small one, was inadequate to
support. He provided himself with a country-house at Ealing, and
exchanged his chariot for a coach, in order to accommodate his pupils,
who, besides his noble charge, were in general persons of family and
fortune. About the same time it was his misfortune to obtain a prize of
1000_l._ in the state lottery; and elated with his success, he engaged
with a builder in a plan to erect a chapel near the palace of the Queen,
from whom it took its name. He entered also into a like partnership at
Charlotte Chapel, Bloomsbury, and both these schemes were for some time
very beneficial to him, though their proceeds were much inferior to his
expensive habits of living. His expectations from the former of these
undertakings were extremely sanguine. It is reported that in fitting up
his chapel near the palace, he flattered himself with the hopes of
having some young royal auditors, and in that expectation assigned a
particular pew or gallery for the heir-apparent. But in this, as in many
other of his views, he was disappointed.
In the year 1772 he obtained the rectory of Hockliffe in Bedfordshire,
the first cure of souls he ever had. With this also he held the vicarage
of Chalgrove; and the two were soon after consolidated. An accident
happened about this time, from which he narrowly escaped with his life.
Returning from Barnet, he was stopped near St. Pancras by a highwayman,
who discharged a pistol into the carriage, which, happily, only broke
the glass. For this fact the delinquent was tried, and, on Mrs. Dodd's
evidence, convicted and hanged. Early in the next year Lord Chesterfield
died, and was succeeded by Dr. Dodd's pupil, who appointed his preceptor
to be his chaplain.
At this period Dr. Dodd appears to have been in the zenith of his
popularity and reputation. Beloved and respected by all orders of
people, he would have reached, in all probability, the situation which
was the object of his wishes, had he possessed patience enough to have
waited for it, and prudence sufficient to keep himself out of those
difficulties which might prove fatal to his integrity. But the habits of
dissipation and expense had acquired too great an influence over him;
and he had by their means involved himself in considerable debts. To
extricate himself from them, he was tempted to an act which entirely cut
off every hope which he could entertain of rising in his profession, and
totally ruined him in the opinion of the world. On the translation of
Bishop Moss, in February 1774, to the see of Bath and Wells, the
valuable rectory of St. George, Hanover-square, fell to the disposal of
the Crown, by virtue of the King's prerogative. Whether from the
suggestion of his own mind, or from the persuasion of some friend, is
uncertain; but on this occasion he took a step of all others the most
wild and extravagant, and the least likely to be attended with success.
He caused an anonymous letter to be sent to Lady Apsley, offering the
sum of three thousand pounds if by her means he could be presented to
the living. The letter was immediately communicated to the chancellor,
and, after being traced to the writer, was laid before his majesty. The
insult offered to so high an officer by the proposal was followed by
instant punishment. Dr. Dodd's name was ordered to be struck out of the
list of chaplains. The press teemed with satire and invective; he was
abused and ridiculed in the papers of the day; and to crown the whole,
the transaction became a subject of entertainment in one of Mr. Foote's
pieces at the Haymarket.
As no explanation could justify so absurd a measure, so no apology
could palliate it. An evasive letter in the newspapers, promising a
justification at a future day, was treated with universal contempt; and
stung with remorse, and feelingly alive to the disgrace he had brought
on himself, he hastily quitted the place where neglect and insult only
attended him, and going to Geneva to his late pupil, he was presented by
him with the living of Winge in Buckinghamshire, which he held with that
of Hockliffe, by virtue of a dispensation. Though encumbered with debts,
he might still have retrieved his circumstances, if not his character,
had he attended to the dictates of prudence; but his extravagance
continued undiminished, and drove him to pursue schemes which
overwhelmed him with additional infamy. He became the editor of a
newspaper; and it is said that he even attempted, by means of a
commission of bankruptcy, to clear himself from his debts; an attempt in
which, however, he failed. From this period it would appear that every
step which he took led to complete his ruin. In the summer of 1776, he
went to France, and there, with little regard to decency or the
observances proper to be maintained by a minister of religion, he
paraded himself in a phaeton at the races on the plains of Sablons,
dressed in all the foppery of the kingdom in which he was temporarily
resident. At the beginning of winter he returned to London, and
continued there to exercise the duties of his profession until the very
moment of his committing the offence for which his life was subsequently
forfeited to the offended laws of his country. On the 2nd of February
1777, he preached his last sermon at the Magdalen Chapel, where he was
still heard with approbation and pleasure; and on the 4th of the same
month he forged a bond, purporting to be that of his late pupil, the
Earl of Chesterfield, for 4200_l._ Pressed by creditors, and unable any
longer to meet their demands or soothe their importunities, he was
driven to commit this crime, as the only expedient to which he could
have recourse to aid him in his escape from his difficulties. The method
which he adopted in completing the forgery was very remarkable. He
pretended that the noble earl had urgent occasion to borrow 4000_l._ but
that he did not choose to be his own agent, and he begged that the
matter therefore might be secretly and expeditiously conducted. A person
named Lewis Robertson was the person whom he employed as broker to
negotiate the transaction; and he presented to him a bond, not filled up
or signed, that he might find a person ready to advance the sum
required, as he directed him to say, to a young nobleman who had lately
come of age. Several applications were made by Robertson without
success, the persons refusing because they were not to be present when
the bond was executed; but at length the agent, confiding in the honour
and integrity of his employer went to Messrs. Fletcher and Peach, who
agreed to advance the money. Mr. Robertson then carried the bond back to
the doctor, in order that it might be filled up and executed; and on the
following day it was returned, bearing the signature of the Earl of
Chesterfield, and attested by the doctor himself. Mr. Robertson, knowing
that Mr. Fletcher was a man who required all legal observances to be
attended to, and that he would therefore object to the bond as bearing
the name of one witness only, put his name under that of Dr. Dodd, and
in that state he carried the bond to him, and received from him the sum
of 4000_l._ in return, which he paid over to his employer.
The bond was subsequently produced to the Earl of Chesterfield; but
immediately on his seeing it, he disowned it, and expressed himself at a
loss to know by whom such a forgery upon him could have been committed.
It was evident, however, that the supposed attesting witnesses must, if
their signatures were genuine, be acquainted with its author; and Mr.
Manly, his lordship's agent, went directly to consult Mr. Fletcher upon
the best course to be taken; and after some deliberation, Mr. Fletcher,
a Mr. Innis, and Mr. Manly proceeded to Guildhall to prefer an
information with regard to the forgery against Dr. Dodd and Mr.
Robertson. Mr. Robertson was without difficulty secured; and then
Fletcher, Innis, and Manly, accompanied by two of the lord mayor's
officers, went to the house of the doctor in Argyle-street, whither he
had recently removed.
Upon their explaining the nature of their business to him, he appeared
much struck and affected, and declared his willingness to make any
reparation in his power. Mr. Manly told him that his instantly returning
the money was the only mode which remained for him to save himself; and
he immediately gave up six notes of 500_l._ each, making 3000_l._, and
he drew on his banker for 500_l._ more. The broker then returned 100_l._
and the doctor gave a second draft on his banker for 200_l._, and a
judgment on his goods for the remaining 400_l._ All this was done by the
doctor in full reliance on the honour of the parties that the bond
should be returned to him cancelled; but, notwithstanding this
restitution, he was taken before the lord mayor, and charged with the
forgery. The doctor declared that he had no intention to defraud Lord
Chesterfield or the gentlemen who advanced the money, and hoped that the
satisfaction he had made in returning it would atone for his offence. He
was pressed, he said, exceedingly for 300_l._ to pay some bills due to
tradesmen, and took this step as a temporary resource, and would have
repaid the money in half a year. "My Lord Chesterfield," added he,
"cannot but have some tenderness for me as my pupil. I love him, and he
knows it. There is nobody wishes to prosecute. I am sure my Lord
Chesterfield don't want my life,--I hope he will show clemency to me.
Mercy should triumph over justice." Clemency, however, was denied; and
the doctor was committed to the Compter in preparation for his trial. On
the 19th of February, Dr. Dodd, being put to the bar at the Old Bailey,
addressed the Court in the following words:--
"My lords,--I am informed that the bill of indictment against me has
been found on the evidence of Mr. Robertson, who was taken out of
Newgate, without any authority or leave from your lordships, for the
purpose of procuring the bill to be found. Mr. Robertson is a
subscribing witness to the bond, and, as I conceive, would be swearing
to exculpate himself if he should be admitted as a witness against me;
and as the bill has been found upon his evidence, which was
surreptitiously obtained, I submit to your lordships that I ought not to
be compelled to plead on this indictment; and upon this question I beg
to be heard by my counsel. I beg leave also further to observe to your
lordships, that the gentlemen on the other side of the question are
bound over to prosecute Mr. Robertson."
Previously to the arguments of the counsel, an order which had been
surreptitiously obtained from an officer of the court, dated Wednesday,
February 19, and directed to the keeper of Newgate, commanding him to
carry Lewis Robertson to Hicks's Hall, in order to his giving evidence
before the grand inquest on the present bill of indictment--as well as a
resolution of the Court, reprobating the said order--and also the
recognizance entered into by Mr. Manly, Mr. Peach, Mr. Innis, and the
Right Hon. the Earl of Chesterfield to prosecute and give evidence
against Dr. Dodd and Lewis Robertson for forgery--were ordered to be
read; and the clerk of the arraigns was directed to inform the Court
whether the name "Lewis Robertson" was indorsed as a witness on the back
of the indictment, which was answered in the affirmative.
The counsel now proceeded in their arguments for and against the
prisoner. Mr. Howarth, one of Dr. Dodd's advocates, contended that no
person ought to plead or answer to an indictment, if it appeared upon
the face of that indictment that the evidence upon which the bill was
found was not legal, or competent to have been adduced before the grand
jury.
Mr. Cooper and Mr. Buller, on the same side, pursued the same line of
argument with equal ingenuity, and expressed a hope that Dr. Dodd would
not be called upon to plead to an indictment found upon such evidence as
had been pointed out, but that the indictment would be ordered to be
quashed.
The counsel for the prosecution advanced various arguments in opposition
to those employed on the other side, and the learned judge having taken
a note of the objection, it was agreed that the trial should proceed,
the question of the competency of Mr. Robertson as a witness being
reserved for the consideration of the twelve judges.
The doctor was then arraigned upon the indictment, which charged him in
the usual terms with the forgery upon the Earl of Chesterfield; and the
evidence in proof of the facts above stated having been given, the Court
called upon the prisoner for his defence. He addressed the Court and
jury in the following terms:--
"My lords and gentlemen of the jury,--Upon the evidence which has this
day been produced against me, I find it very difficult to address your
lordships. There is no man in the world who has a deeper sense of the
heinous nature of the crime for which I stand indicted than myself: I
view it, my lords, in all its extent of malignancy towards a commercial
state like ours; but, my lords, I humbly apprehend, though no lawyer,
that the moral turpitude and malignancy of the crime always, both in the
eye of the law and of religion, consists in the intention. I am
informed, my lords, that the act of parliament on this head runs
perpetually in this style, _with an intention to defraud_. Such an
intention, my lords and gentlemen of the jury, I believe, has not been
attempted to be proved upon me, and the consequences that have happened,
which have appeared before you, sufficiently prove that a perfect and
ample restitution has been made. I leave it, my lords, to you and the
gentlemen of the jury to consider, that if an unhappy man ever deviates
from the law of right, yet if in the single first moment of recollection
he does all that he can to make a full and perfect amends, what, my
lords and gentlemen of the jury, can God and man desire further? My
lords, there are a variety of little circumstances too tedious to
trouble you with, with respect to this matter. Were I to give loose to
my feelings, I have many things to say which I am sure you would feel
with respect to me; but as it appears on all hands, that no injury,
intentional or real, has been done to any man living, I hope that you
will consider the case in its true state of clemency. I must observe to
your lordships, that though I have met with all candour in this court,
yet I have been pursued with excessive cruelty; I have been prosecuted
after the most express engagements, after the most solemn assurances,
after the most delusive, soothing arguments of Mr. Manly; I have been
prosecuted with a cruelty scarcely to be paralleled. A person avowedly
criminal in the same indictment with myself has been brought forth as a
capital witness against me; a fact, I believe, totally unexampled. My
lords, oppressed as I am with infamy, loaded as I am with distress, sunk
under this cruel prosecution, your lordships and the gentlemen of the
jury cannot think life a matter of any value to me. No, my lords, I
solemnly protest, that death of all blessings would be the most pleasant
to me after this pain. I have yet, my lords, ties which call upon
me--ties which render me desirous even to continue this miserable
existence. I have a wife, my lords, who, for twenty-seven years, has
lived an unparalleled example of conjugal attachment and fidelity, and
whose behaviour during this trying scene would draw tears of
approbation, I am sure, even from the most inhuman. My lords, I have
creditors, honest men, who will lose much by my death. I hope, for the
sake of justice towards them, some mercy will be shown to me. If, upon
the whole, these considerations at all avail with you--if, upon the most
impartial survey of matters, not the slightest intention of injury can
appear to any one--(and I solemnly declare it was in my power to replace
it in three months--of this I assured Mr. Robertson frequently, and had
his solemn assurances that no man should be privy to it but Mr. Fletcher
and himself)--and if no injury was done to any man upon earth, I then
hope, I trust, I fully confide myself in the tenderness, humanity, and
protection, of my country."
The jury retired for about ten minutes, and then returned with a verdict
that "the prisoner was guilty;" but at the same time presented a
petition, humbly recommending the doctor to the royal mercy.
It was afterwards declared that upon the reserved point, the opinion of
the judges was, that he had been legally convicted. On the last day of
the sessions Dr. Dodd was again put to the bar to receive judgment. The
clerk of the arraigns then addressed him, saying,
"Dr. William Dodd, you stand convicted of forgery, what have you to say
why this court should not give you judgment to die, according to law?"
In reply Dr. Dodd addressed the court as follows:--
"My lord,--I new stand before you a dreadful example of human infirmity.
I entered upon public life with the expectations common to young men
whose education has been liberal, and whose abilities have been
flattered; and, when I became a clergyman, I considered myself as not
impairing the dignity of the order. I was not an idle, nor, I hope, an
useless minister: I taught the truths of Christianity with the zeal of
conviction and the authority of innocence.
"My labours were approved, my pulpit became popular, and I have reason
to believe that, of those who heard me, some have been preserved from
sin, and some have been reclaimed. Condescend, my lord, to think, if
these considerations aggravate my crime, how much they must embitter my
punishment! Being distinguished and elevated by the confidence of
mankind, I had too much confidence in myself; and, thinking my
integrity--what others thought it--established in sincerity, and
fortified by religion, I did not consider the danger of vanity, nor
suspect the deceitfulness of mine own heart. The day of conflict came,
in which temptation seized and overwhelmed me! I committed the crime,
which I entreat your lordship to believe that my conscience hourly
represents to me in its full bulk of mischief and malignity. Many have
been overpowered by temptation, who are now among the penitent in
heaven! To an act now waiting the decision of vindictive justice I will
now presume to oppose the counterbalance of almost thirty years (a great
part of the life of man) passed in exciting and exercising charity--in
relieving such distresses as I now feel--in administering those
consolations which I now want. I will not otherwise extenuate my offence
than by declaring, what I hope will appear to many, and what many
circumstances make probable, that I did not intend finally to defraud:
nor will it become me to apportion my own punishment, by alleging that
my sufferings have been not much less than my guilt; I have fallen from
reputation which ought to have made me cautious, and from a fortune
which ought to have given me content. I am sunk at once into poverty and
scorn; my name and my crime fill the ballads in the streets; the sport
of the thoughtless, and the triumph of the wicked! It may seem strange,
my lord, that, remembering what I have lately been, I should still wish
to continue what I am! but contempt of death, how speciously soever it
may mingle with heathen virtues, has nothing in it suitable to Christian
penitence. Many motives impel me to beg earnestly for life. I feel the
natural horror of a violent death, the universal dread of untimely
dissolution. I am desirous to recompense the injury I have done to the
clergy, to the world, and to religion, and to efface the scandal of my
crime, by the example of my repentance: but, above all, I wish to die
with thoughts more composed, and calmer preparation. The gloom and
confusion of a prison, the anxiety of a trial, the horrors of suspense,
and the inevitable vicissitudes of passion, leave not the mind in a due
disposition for the holy exercises of prayer and self-examination. Let
not a little life be denied me, in which I may, by meditation and
contrition, prepare myself to stand at the tribunal of Omnipotence, and
support the presence of that Judge, who shall distribute to all
according to their works: who will receive and pardon the repenting
sinner, and from whom the merciful shall obtain mercy! For these
reasons, my lords, amidst shame and misery, I yet wish to live; and most
humbly implore, that I may be recommended by your lordship to the
clemency of his majesty."
Here he sunk down overcome with mental agony, and some time elapsed
before he was sufficiently recovered to hear the dreadful sentence of
the law, which the Recorder pronounced upon him in the following words:
"Dr. William Dodd,
"You have been convicted of the offence of publishing a forged and
counterfeit bond, knowing it to be forged and counterfeited; and you
have had the advantage which the laws of this country afford to every
man in your situation, a fair, an impartial, and an attentive trial. The
jury, to whose justice you appealed, have found you guilty; their
verdict has undergone the consideration of the learned judges, and they
found no ground to impeach the justice of that verdict; you yourself
have admitted the justice of it; and now the very painful duty that the
necessity of the law imposes upon the court, to pronounce the sentence
of that law against you, remains only to be performed. You appear to
entertain a very proper sense of the enormity of the offence which you
have committed; you appear, too, in a state of contrition of mind, and,
I doubt not, have duly reflected how far the dangerous tendency of the
offence you have been guilty of is increased by the influence of
example, in being committed by a person of your character, and of the
sacred function of which you are a member. These sentiments seem to be
yours; I would wish to cultivate such sentiments; but I would not wish
to add to the anguish of your mind by dwelling upon your situation. Your
application for mercy must be made elsewhere; it would be cruel in the
court to flatter you; there is a power of dispensing mercy, where you
may apply. Your own good sense, and the contrition you express, will
induce you to lessen the influence of the example by publishing your
hearty and sincere detestation of the offence of which you are
convicted; and will show you that to attempt to palliate or extenuate
it, would indeed add to the influence of a crime of this kind being
committed by a person of your character and known abilities. I would
therefore warn you against anything of that kind. Now, having said this,
I am obliged to pronounce the sentence of the law, which is--That you,
Doctor William Dodd, be carried from hence to the place from whence you
came; that from thence you be carried to the place of execution, and
that there you be hanged by the neck until you are dead." To this Dr.
Dodd replied, "Lord Jesus, receive my soul!" and was immediately
conveyed from the bar.
Great exertions were now made to save Dr. Dodd. The newspapers were
filled with letters and paragraphs in his favour; individuals of all
ranks exerted themselves in his behalf; the members of several charities
which had been benefited by him joined in application to the throne for
mercy; parish officers went in mourning from house to house, to procure
subscriptions to a petition to the king; and this petition, which, with
the names of nearly thirty thousand persons, filled twenty-three sheets
of parchment, was actually presented. Even the lord mayor and common
council went in a body to St. James's, to solicit mercy for the convict.
These were, however, of no avail. On the 15th of June the privy council
assembled, and deliberated on the cases of the several prisoners then
under condemnation; and in the end a warrant was ordered to be made out
for the execution of Dr. Dodd, with two others (one of whom was
afterwards reprieved), on the 27th of the same month.
Having been flattered with the hopes of a pardon, he appeared to be much
shocked at the intimation of his approaching destiny; but resumed in a
short time a degree of fortitude sufficient to enable him to pass
through the last scene of his life with firmness and decency. On the
26th he took leave of his wife and some friends, and he afterwards
declared himself ready to atone for the offence he had given to the
world. His deportment was meek, humble, and devout, expressive of
resignation and contrition, and calculated to inspire sentiments of
respect for his person, and concern for his unhappy fate.
He was attended to the fatal spot, in a mourning-coach, by the Rev. Mr.
Villette, Ordinary of Newgate, and the Rev. Mr. Dobey. Another criminal,
named John Harris, was executed at the same time. It is impossible to
give an idea of the immense crowds of people that thronged the streets
from Newgate to Tyburn. When the prisoners arrived at the fatal tree,
and were placed in the cart, Dr. Dodd exhorted his fellow sufferer in
so generous a manner, as testified that he had not forgotten his duty as
a clergyman; and he was also very fervent in the exercise of his own
devotions. Just before he was turned off, he was observed to whisper to
the executioner; and, although we have not the means of ascertaining the
precise purport of his remark, it is pretty obvious from the fact, that
as soon as the cart had been drawn away from the gibbet, he ran
immediately under the scaffold and took hold of the doctor's legs as if
to steady his body, and the unfortunate gentleman appeared to die
without pain.
Of his behaviour before execution a particular account was given by Mr.
Villette, Ordinary of Newgate, in the following terms:--
"On the morning of his death I went to him, with the Rev. Mr. Dobey,
Chaplain of the Magdalen, whom he desired to attend him to the place of
execution. He appeared composed; and when I asked him how he had been
supported, he said that he had had some comfortable sleep, by which he
should be the better enabled to perform his duty.
"As we went from his room, in our way to the chapel, we were joined by
his friend, who had spent the foregoing evening with him, and also by
another clergyman. When we were in the Vestry adjoining the Chapel, he
exhorted his fellow-sufferer, who had attempted to destroy himself, but
had been prevented by the vigilance of the keeper. He spoke to him with
great tenderness and emotion of heart, entreating him to consider that
he had but a short time to live, and that it was highly necessary that
he, as well as himself, made good use of their time, implored pardon of
God under a deep sense of sin, and looked to that Lord by whose merits
alone sinners can be saved. He desired me to call in the other
gentlemen, who likewise assisted him to move the heart of the poor
youth; but the Doctor's words were the most pathetic and effectual. He
lifted up his hands, and cried out 'Oh! Lord Jesus, have mercy upon us!
and give, oh! give unto him, my fellow sinner, that, as we suffer
together, we may go together to Heaven!' His conversation to this poor
youth was so moving, that tears flowed from the eyes of all present.
"When we went into the chapel to prayer and the holy communion, true
contrition and warmth of devotion appeared evident in him throughout the
whole service. After it was ended, he again addressed himself to Harris
in the most moving and persuasive manner, and not without effect; for he
declared that he was glad that he had not made away with himself, and
said he was easier, and hoped he should now go to Heaven. The Doctor
told him how Christ had suffered for them; and that he himself was a
greater sinner than he, as he had sinned more against light and
conviction, and therefore his guilt was greater; and that as he was
confident that mercy was shown to his soul, so he should look to Christ
and trust in his merits.
"He prayed God to bless his friends who were present with him, and to
give his blessing to all his brethren the clergy; that he would pour out
his spirit upon them, and make them true ministers of Jesus Christ, and
that they might follow the divine precepts of their heavenly Master.
Turning to one who stood near him, he stretched out his hand, and said,
'Now, my dear friend, speculation is at an end; all must be real! What
poor ignorant beings we are!' He prayed for the Magdalens, and wished
they were there, to sing for him the 23d Psalm.
"After he had waited some time for the officers, he asked what o'clock
it was; and, being told that it was half an hour after eight, he said 'I
wish they were ready, for I long to be gone.' He requested of his
friends, who were in tears about him, to pray for him; to which he was
answered, by two of them, 'We pray more than language can utter.' He
replied, 'I believe it.'
"At length he was summoned to go down into a part of the yard which is
enclosed from the rest of the gaol, where the two unhappy convicts and
the friends of the doctor were alone. On his seeing two prisoners
looking out of the windows, he went to them, and exhorted them so
pathetically, that they both wept abundantly. He said once, 'I am now a
spectacle to men, and shall soon be a spectacle to angels.'
"Just before the sheriff's officers came with the halters, one who was
walking with him told him that there was yet a little ceremony he must;
pass through before he went out. He asked 'What is that?' 'You will be
bound.' He looked up, and said, 'Yet I am free; my freedom is there,'
pointing upwards. He bore it with Christian patience, and beyond what
might have been expected; and, when the men[14] offered to excuse tying
his hands, he desired them to do their duty, and thanked them for their
kindness. After he was bound, I offered to assist him with my arm in
conducting him through the yard, where several people were assembled to
see him; but he replied, with seeming pleasure, 'No, I am as firm as a
rock.' As he passed along the yard, the spectators and prisoners wept
and bemoaned him; and he, in return, prayed God to bless them.
"On the way to execution he consoled himself in reflecting and speaking
on what Christ had suffered for him; lamented the depravity of human
nature, which made sanguinary laws necessary; and said he could gladly
have died in the prison-yard, as being led out to public execution
tended greatly to distress him. He desired me to read to him the 51st
Psalm, and also pointed out an admirable penitential prayer from
'Rossell's Prisoner's Director.' He prayed again for the king, and
likewise for the people.
"When he came near the street where he formerly dwelt he was much
affected, and wept. He said, probably his tears would seem to be the
effect of cowardice, but it was a weakness he could not well help; and
added, he hoped he was going to a better home.
"When he arrived at the gallows he ascended the cart, and spoke to his
fellow-sufferer. He then prayed, not only for himself, but also for his
wife, and the unfortunate youth that suffered with him; and, declaring
that he died in the true faith of the Gospel of Christ, in perfect love
and charity with all mankind, and with thankfulness to his friends, he
was launched into eternity, imploring mercy for his soul for the sake of
his blessed Redeemer."
A paper, of which the following is a copy, had been delivered by Dr.
Dodd to Mr. Villette to be read at the place of execution, but was
omitted as it seemed impossible to make all present aware of its
contents.
"To the words of dying men regard has always been paid. I am
brought hither to suffer death for an act of fraud, of which I
confess myself guilty with shame, such as my former state of life
naturally produces, and I hope with such sorrow as He, to whom the
heart is known, will not disregard. I repent that I have violated
the laws by which peace and confidence are established among men; I
repent that I have attempted to injure my fellow-creatures; and I
repent that I have brought disgrace upon my order, and discredit
upon religion: but my offences against God are without number, and
can admit only of general confession and general repentance. Grant,
Almighty God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, that my repentance,
however late, however imperfect, may not be in vain!
"The little good that now remains in my power is to warn others
against those temptations by which I have been seduced. I have
always sinned against conviction; my principles have never been
shaken; I have always considered the Christian religion as a
revelation from God, and its divine Author as the Saviour of the
world; but the laws of God, though never disowned by me, have often
been forgotten. I was led astray from religious strictness by the
delusion of show and the delights of voluptuousness. I never knew
or attended to the calls of frugality, or the needful minuteness of
painful economy. Vanity and pleasure, into which I plunged,
required expense disproportionate to my income; expense brought
distress upon me; and distress, importunate distress, urged me to
temporary fraud.
"For this fraud I am to die; and I die declaring, in the most
solemn manner, that, however I have deviated from my own precepts,
I have taught others, to the best of my knowledge, and with all
sincerity, the true way to eternal happiness. My life, for some few
unhappy years past, has been dreadfully erroneous; but my ministry
has been always sincere. I have constantly believed; and I now
leave the world solemnly avowing my conviction, that there is no
other name under Heaven by which we can be saved but only the name
of the Lord Jesus; and I entreat all who are here to join with me
in my last petition, that, for the sake of that Lord Jesus Christ,
my sins may be forgiven, and my soul received into his everlasting
kingdom.
"June 27, 1777."
"WILLIAM DODD."
The body of the Doctor was on the Monday following carried to Cowley, in
Buckinghamshire, and deposited in the church there.
During the doctor's confinement in Newgate (a period of several months)
he chiefly employed himself in writing various pieces, which show at
once his piety and talent. The principal of these were his "Thoughts in
Prison," in five parts, from which we cannot doubt but that our readers,
in finishing our life of so eminent, yet unfortunate, a man, will be
gratified by the insertion of a few short extracts. "I began these
Thoughts," says the unhappy man, writing in Newgate, under date of the
23d of April, 1777, after his condemnation, "merely from the impression
in my mind, without plan, purpose, or motive, more than the situation of
my soul.
"I continued thence on a thoughtful and regular plan; and I have been
enabled wonderfully, in a state which in better days I should have
supposed would have destroyed all power of reflection, to bring them
nearly to a conclusion. I dedicate them to God, and the reflecting
serious among my fellow-creatures; and I bless the Almighty for the
ability to go through them amidst the terrors of this dire place
(Newgate), and the bitter anguish of my disconsolate mind! The thinking
will easily pardon all inaccuracies, as I am neither able nor willing
to read over these melancholy lines with a curious or critical eye. They
are imperfect, but in the language of the heart; and, had I time and
inclination, might, and should be, improved.--But----
(Signed)
"W. D."
The unfortunate author's Thoughts on his Imprisonment are thus
introduced:--
"My friends are gone! harsh on its sullen hinge
Grates the dread door: the massy bolts respond
Tremendous to the surly keeper's touch:
The dire keys clang, with movement dull and slow,
While their behest the ponderous locks perform:
And, fasten'd firm, the object of their care
Is left to solitude--to sorrow left.
"But wherefore fasten'd? Oh! still stronger bonds
Than bolts, or locks, or doors of molten brass,
To solitude and sorrow could consign
His anguish'd soul, and prison him, though free!
For whither should he fly, or where produce
In open day, and to the golden sun,
His hapless head! whence every laurel torn,
On his bald brow sits grinning infamy:
And all in sportive triumph twines around
The keen, the stinging arrows of disgrace."
After dwelling on the miseries of that dreary confinement, at sight of
which he formerly started back with horror, he adds,
"O dismal change! now not in friendly sort
A Christian visitor, to pour the balm
Of Christian comfort in some wretch's ear--
I am that wretch myself! and want, much want,
That Christian consolation I bestow'd;
So cheerfully bestow'd! Want, want, my God,
From thee the mercy, which, thou know'st my gladsome soul
Ever sprang forth with transport to impart.
"Why then, mysterious Providence, pursued
With such unfeeling ardour? Why pursued
To death's dread bourn, by men to me unknown!
Why--stop the deep question; it o'erwhelms my soul;
It reels, it staggers! Earth turns round! My brain
Whirls in confusion! My impetuous heart
Throbs with pulsation not to be restrain'd;
Why?--Where?--O Chesterfield, my son, my son!"
The unfortunate divine afterwards thus proceeds:--
"Nay, talk not of composure! I had thought
In older time, that my weak heart was soft,
And pity's self might break it. I had thought
That marble-eyed Severity would crack
The slender nerves which guide my reins of sense,
And give me up to madness! 'Tis not so;
My heart is callous, and my nerves are tough;
It will not break; they will not crack; or else
What more, just heaven! was wanting to the deed,
Than to behold--Oh! that eternal night
Had in that moment screened from myself!
My Stanhope to behold! Ah! piercing sight!
Forget it; 'tis distraction: speak who can!
But I am lost! a criminal adjudged!"
It is not a little singular that Dr. Dodd, a few years before his death,
published a Sermon, intitled, "The frequency of capital punishments
inconsistent with justice, sound policy, and religion." This, he says,
was intended to have been preached at the Chapel-royal, at St. James's;
but omitted on account of the absence of the court, during the author's
month of waiting.
The following extract will show the unfortunate man's opinion on this
subject, although there is no reason to suppose that he then
contemplated the commission of the crime for which he suffered. He says,
"It would be easy to show the injustice of those laws which demand blood
for the slightest offences; the superior justice and propriety of
inflicting perpetual and laborious servitude; the greater utility hereof
to the sufferer, as well as to the state, especially wherein we have a
variety of necessary occupations, peculiarly noxious and prejudicial to
the lives of the honest and industrious, and in which they might be
employed, who had forfeited their lives and their liberties to society."
THOMAS HORNER AND JAMES FRYER,
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
The offence of these prisoners was attended by circumstances of great
daring. From the evidence adduced at their trial, which took place at
the Old Bailey Sessions in the month of April, 1778, it appeared that on
the evening of the 1st of March, the prisoners, with three other men,
were seen at Finchley together, and that while drinking in a
public-house they made many inquiries of the persons present with regard
to the house and family of a Mr. Clewen, a gentleman of respectability
who resided in the neighbourhood. On the same night, between twelve and
one o'clock, Mr. Clewen's house was entered by five persons, whose faces
were disguised, and the noise created by their rushing up stairs being
heard by Miss Clewen and her servant, they immediately ran out of their
bed-chambers to see what was the matter. They were forced to return,
however, and three of the men having entered their room, compelled them
to cover their heads with the bed-clothes, uttering loud threats in case
of their offering any resistance. The men-servants, who slept at the top
of the house, being now alarmed, the thieves proceeded to their
apartment, and one of them named Quick having got up, he received a
severe blow with an iron bar, and, like his mistress, was compelled,
with his fellows, to cover himself up with the bed-clothes. Two fellows
then remained to watch them, while the rest went to Mr. Clewen's room,
and treated him in the same manner, and then they proceeded to the
bed-chamber of his son, whom they forced to go to his father's bed,
holding his hands before his eyes, so that he should not distinguish who
were his assailants. They then ransacked the house, and in about
half-an-hour returned, saying that if young Clewen would tell them
where the money was, they would give him his watch, which they had taken
from under his pillow, but this being refused, they went away, saying
that they were only going for some victuals, and would return. The house
was then immediately examined by Mr. Clewen; and it was found that the
thieves had effected an entrance by means of the back-door, and that
they had fastened up that as well as the front entrance by nailing
staples over the locks. It was afterwards discovered that they had
carried off twenty-two guineas, fifty pounds in bank notes, a quantity
of plate, several gold rings, a silver watch, and other property to a
considerable amount. Information of the robbery was immediately conveyed
to Sir John Fielding, whose officers, recognising the offenders from the
description given of their persons, succeeded in securing the prisoners:
Fryer at a small house which he occupied in the City Road, where there
were found a number of picklock keys, and a hanger; and Horner at his
lodgings in Perkins' Rents, Westminster, a cutlass being concealed under
his bed. Two supposed accomplices, named Condon and Jordan, were also
apprehended, but nothing distinct being proved against them they
escaped: Jordan, however, being afterwards convicted for a second
burglary in Copenhagen House, for which he received sentence of death.
Conviction having followed the production of this evidence, sentence of
death was passed. Upon the sacrament being administered to Horner and
Fryer, they admitted their guilt, and were executed at Tyburn on the
24th of June, 1778. The other offenders were subsequently also
apprehended and executed.
THE REV. JAMES HACKMAN.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this unfortunate gentleman was long the topic of general
conversation. Pamphlets and poems were written on the subject; and the
fate of Mr. Hackman was generally pitied, as it was conceived that he
was the victim of an insane love--a conclusion which will now be the
more readily arrived at when the circumstances under which the murder,
of which he was found guilty, was committed are considered.
It appears that Mr. Hackman was born at Gosport in Hampshire, and was
originally designed for trade, in which his father was engaged. It was
found, however, that his disposition was of too volatile a nature to
admit of his success in any business; and his parents, willing to
promote his interests to the extent of their power, purchased for him a
commission as ensign in the 68th regiment of foot. He had not been long
in the service before he was entrusted with the command of a recruiting
party, and going to Huntingdon, in pursuance of his instructions, he
there became known to the Earl of Sandwich, who had a seat in the
neighbourhood, and by whom he was frequently invited to dinner. It
appears that he now first became acquainted with the object of his
passion, and the victim of his crime.
Miss Reay was the daughter of a staymaker in Covent Garden, and served
her apprenticeship to a mantuamaker, in George's-court, St. John's lane,
Clerkenwell. She was bound when only thirteen; and during her
apprenticeship was taken notice of by the nobleman above mentioned, who
took her under his protection, and treated her with every mark of
tenderness. At the time of her being introduced to Mr. Hackman, she had
lived with her noble protector during a period of nineteen years, and in
the course of that time had borne him nine children; but although she
was nearly twice the age of Mr. Hackman, no sooner had he seen her than
he became violently enamoured of her.
It was while he was tormented by this unhappy and ungovernable passion
that he found that any hopes which he might entertain of preferment in
the army were not likely to be realised, and he determined to turn his
thoughts to the church. In pursuance of this design he took orders, and
he obtained the living of Wiverton, in Norfolk, only about Christmas
preceding the shocking deed which cost him his life.
How long he had been in London previous to this affair is not certainly
known; but at the time of its occurrence he lodged in Duke's-court, St.
Martin's-lane. On the morning of the 7th of April, 1779, he sat for a
considerable time in his closet, reading "Blair's Sermons:" but in the
evening he took a walk to the Admiralty, where he saw Miss Reay go into
the coach along with Signora Galli, who attended her. The coach drove to
Covent Garden Theatre, where the ladies stayed to see the performance of
"Love in a Village," and Mr. Hackman went into the theatre at the same
time; but not being able to contain the violence of his passion, he
returned, and again went to his lodgings, and having loaded two pistols
went to the playhouse, where he waited till the play was over. Seeing
Miss Reay ready to step into the coach, he took a pistol in each hand,
one of which he discharged against her, which killed her on the spot,
and the other at himself, which, however, did not take effect. He then
beat himself with the butt-end, on his head, in order to destroy
himself, so fully was he bent on the destruction of both; but after a
struggle he was secured, his wounds dressed, and then he was carried
before Sir John Fielding, who committed him to Tothillfields' Bridewell,
and next to Newgate, where a person was appointed to attend him, lest he
should lay violent hands on himself. In Newgate, as he knew he had no
favour to expect, he prepared himself for the awful change which was
about to take place. He had dined with his sister on the day on which
the murder was committed, and in the afternoon he wrote a letter to her
husband, Mr. Booth, an eminent attorney, informing him of his intention
to destroy himself, and desiring him to sell what effects he had, in
order to pay a small debt which he owed; but it appears that the letter
was not despatched, as it was found in his pocket.
The prisoner was indicted at the ensuing Old Bailey sessions, and it was
proved by Mr. MacNamara, that on Wednesday, the 7th of April, he was
quitting the theatre, when seeing Miss Reay, with whom he was slightly
acquainted, he offered her his assistance in reaching her carriage. She
accepted his preferred arm, and just as they were in the piazza he heard
the report of a pistol, when he directly felt his arm compressed by the
lady's hand, and she then immediately fell to the ground. He thought at
first that the lady had fallen from fright only, but on stooping to
raise her up, he found that his hand was bloody, and he then saw that
she was wounded. He immediately conveyed her into the Shakspeare Tavern,
whither the prisoner soon after followed in custody. He asked him some
questions about his reason for shooting Miss Reay, but the only answer
which he gave was, that that was not the place to satisfy him. The
prisoner afterwards said that his name was Hackman; and he sent for Mr.
Booth, who lived in Craven-street. Other evidence was also adduced, from
which it appeared that the prisoner followed Miss Reay out of the
theatre, and having tapped her on the shoulder to attract her attention,
he suddenly drew two pistols from his pocket, one of which he discharged
at her and the other at himself. They both fell feet to feet, and the
prisoner then beat himself about the head, and called out for some one
to kill him. He was secured by a Mr. McMahon, who dressed his wounds,
and conveyed him to the Shakspeare Tavern, where Miss Reay almost
immediately afterwards died.
On his being called upon for his defence, the prisoner addressed the
Court in the following terms:--"I should not have troubled the Court
with the examination of witnesses to support the charge against me, had
I not thought that the pleading guilty to the indictment gave an
indication of contemning death not suitable to my present condition, and
was, in some measure, being accessory to a second peril of my life: and
I therefore thought that the justice of my country ought to be satisfied
by suffering my offence to be proved, and the fact established by
evidence.
"I stand here this day the most wretched of human beings, and confess
myself criminal in a high degree; yet while I acknowledge, with shame
and repentance, that my determination against my own life was formal and
complete, I protest, with that regard to truth which becomes my
situation, that the will to destroy her, who was ever dearer to me than
life, was never mine till a momentary frenzy overcame me, and induced me
to commit the deed I now deplore. The letter which I meant for my
brother-in-law after my decease will have its due weight as to this
point with good men.
"Before this dreadful act I trust nothing will be found in the tenor of
my life which the common charity of mankind will not excuse. I have no
wish to avoid the punishment which the laws of my country appoint for my
crime; but being already too unhappy to feel a punishment in death or a
satisfaction in life, I submit myself with penitence and patience to the
disposal and judgment of Almighty God, and to the consequences of this
inquiry into my conduct and intention."
The following letter was then read:--
"My dear Frederic,--When this reaches you I shall be no more; but do not
let my unhappy fate distress you too much: I have strove against it as
long as possible, but it now overpowers me. You well know where my
affections were placed: my having by some means or other lost hers (an
idea which I could not support) has driven me to madness. The world will
condemn me, but your good heart will pity me. God bless you, my dear
Frederic! Would I had a sum to leave you to convince you of my great
regard! You was my only friend. I have hid one circumstance from you
which gives me great pain. I owe Mr. Knight of Gosport one hundred
pounds, for which he has the writings of my houses; but I hope in God,
when they are sold and all other matters collected, there will be nearly
enough to settle our account. May Almighty God bless you and yours with
comfort and happiness; and may you ever be a stranger to the pangs I now
feel! May Heaven protect my beloved woman, and forgive this act, which
alone could relieve me from a world of misery I have long endured! Oh!
if it should ever be in your power to do her an act of friendship,
remember your faithful friend,
"J. HACKMAN."
The jury immediately returned their fatal verdict. The unhappy man heard
the sentence pronounced against him with calm resignation to his fate,
and employed the very short time allowed murderers after conviction in
repentance and prayer.
During the procession to the fatal tree at Tyburn he seemed much
affected, and said but little; and when he arrived at Tyburn, and got
out of the coach and mounted the cart, he took leave of Dr. Porter and
the Ordinary in the most affectionate manner.
After some time spent in prayer, he was turned off, on April the 19th
1779; and having hung the usual time, his body was carried to Surgeons
Hall for dissection.
JAMES DONALLY.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
This offender was one of a class of the most mischievous and most daring
robbers; and the case which we have to relate, is one of a most
atrocious nature,--the extortion of money by means of threats to charge
the person imposed upon with a detestable crime, an offence which, we
regret to say, has been but too prevalent in later years.
In the month of February, 1779, James, alias Patrick Donally, was
indicted at the sessions held at the Old Bailey, for "that he, on the
king's highway, in and upon the Honourable Charles Fielding, did make an
assault, putting him in corporeal fear and danger of his life, and did
steal from his person, and against his will, half-a-guinea, on the 18th
of January:" and there was also a second count, which imputed to him a
similar offence on the 20th of the same month, in robbing the prosecutor
of a guinea.
From the evidence adduced, it appeared that the prosecutor was the
second son of the Earl of Denbigh. Between six and seven o'clock on the
evening of the 18th of January, he was going from the house of a lady,
with whom he had dined, to Covent Garden Theatre, when, on passing
through Soho-square, the prisoner came up to him and demanded some
money. Mr. Fielding was surprised at this address, and requested to know
upon what ground he applied to him; upon which the prisoner immediately
said, that if he did not comply, he would take him before a magistrate,
and impute to him the commission of a foul crime. Terrified by the
insinuation, he handed half-a-guinea to him, which was all the money
then in his possession, and returning to the house which he had just
quitted, he borrowed half-a-guinea of the servant, in order that he
might pursue his original intention of going to the theatre. On the 20th
of the same month he was in Oxford-road, when the prisoner again
accosted him, and saying that he could not have forgotten what passed
the other night in Soho-square, declared that he must have money, or
else, that he would follow up the intention which he had before
expressed, and added that he knew it would go hard with him, unless he
could prove an _alibi_. Mr. Fielding at this time was without money, but
going to Mr. Waters, a grocer in Bond-street, he borrowed a guinea from
him, which, under the influence of fear, he handed to the prisoner. On
the 12th February, a third attempt at extortion was made by the
prisoner; but in this instance, owing to the great resemblance between
Mr. Fielding and his brother Lord Fielding, he mistook the latter for
the former; Lord Fielding was on Hay-hill, when the prisoner accosted
him in terms implying that he had seen him before. His lordship,
however, expressed himself at a loss to know what he meant, when he
asked him if he did not remember giving him a half-guinea in
Soho-square, and a guinea at the grocer's in Bond-street? Lord Fielding
utterly denied all recollection of either affair, and said that the
prisoner should go before a magistrate to explain his meaning. The
prisoner assented, and they proceeded together in the direction of
Bow-street; but they had not gone many paces before the prisoner held
back, and said that he would go no further. Lord Fielding became rather
alarmed, and, being terrified by the prisoner's threats, he allowed him
to escape. On the Tuesday following, however, as he was passing near the
same spot, a voice, which he recognised as that of the prisoner, called
out, "My Lord, I have met you again," and the prisoner at the same time
coming from behind him, his Lordship seized him by the collar; the
prisoner declared that he had been used ill when he last saw his
Lordship, upon which the latter declared that he had used him too well,
and would take care now that he should not get away again.
Donally now desired to be treated like a _gentleman_, saying he would
not be dragged, but would go quietly, and Lord Fielding, not seeing any
person who was likely to assist him, and apprehending a rescue, told him
that, if he would walk along quietly to the next coffee-house, he would
not drag him. They walked down Dover-street together; but the prisoner
increasing his pace, Lord Fielding followed, and seized him. He fell
down twice, but was again seized as soon as he arose.
By this time a crowd was assembled; Major Hartly, and two other
gentlemen, happened to come by, and with their aid, the prisoner was
secured, and conveyed to Bow-street, where the magistrates, on hearing
the evidence, thought that the crime amounted to a highway robbery, and
committed him for trial accordingly.
Donally in his defence, acknowledged that he had met Lord Fielding
twice; that he had addressed him with decency, and desired him to hear
something respecting his brother; and that Sir John Fielding had made
the Honourable Charles Fielding carry on the prosecution. He did not
deny the receipt of the guinea at the grocer's in Bond-Street; but
averred that he did not deserve death on account of the charge against
him.
The jury, having considered the whole evidence, brought in a verdict of
"Guilty;" but Mr. Justice Buller, before whom the offender was tried,
reserved the case for the opinion of the judges on a point of law.
On the 29th of April, 1779, the judges met, and gave their opinion on
this case, pronouncing it a new species of robbery to evade the law, but
which was _not_ to be evaded; and the prisoner therefore underwent its
sentence, which he had, with most abominable wickedness, brought upon
his own head.
Another diabolical villain of this description, named John Staples, was,
on the 6th of December, 1779, hanged at Tyburn, for extorting money from
Thomas Harris Crosby, Esq. by charging him with an abominable crime.
MORGAN PHILLIPS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER AND ARSON.
The case of this malefactor so strongly resembles that of a person named
Edward Morgan, an account of whose crime we have already given, that we
are induced to hope, for the sake of humanity, that some mistake has
arisen in describing them as separate offences.
The crime for which the person whose case we are now considering, most
justly suffered, was attended with extraordinary acts of cruelty.
The inhabitants of Narbeth, a small village in the county of Pembroke,
were, in the middle of one night in the month of March, 1779, alarmed
with the appearance of fire bursting from a farm-house near the
turnpike. Before they could render assistance the house was nearly razed
to the ground, and the family were missing. On examining the ruins the
remains of the owner, Mr. Thomas, an old and respectable farmer, were
found on a bench in a leaning posture, but so much burnt that it was
impossible to determine whether he had been first murdered, or had
perished by the flames.
Proceeding in the search, the next unhappy victim found was his niece, a
fine young woman of about thirty years of age, whose body lay across the
feet of a half burnt bedstead, with a thigh broken, and an arm missing.
Among the ruins of another room was discovered the body of a labouring
man, much burnt, but with a large wound on the back of his head, from
which much blood had issued; and Mrs. Thomas' servant-woman, who was
exceedingly robust, was also found dead at the entrance of one of the
rooms, with several deep wounds in her head, and her hair clotted with
blood. Her body was not so much burned as the others; and near her was
discovered a large kitchen spit, half bent, with which it was
conjectured she had opposed the murderers, for there could now be no
doubt that the horrid scene which presented itself was the work of some
person who, for the sake of plundering the house, had massacred its
inhabitants and had then fired the premises, in order to conceal his
bloody crimes. So horrible a deed excited universal attention, and every
means was taken to secure its author.
A man named John Morris, a lazy, worthless character, who had been
already in custody upon other charges, was apprehended on suspicion of
being concerned in the affair; but he effectually put an end to all
hopes of eliciting any information from him by throwing himself into a
coal-pit, in spite of the efforts of the constables, in whose care he
was, to restrain him, where his mangled remains were afterwards found.
At length suspicion fell on Morgan Philips, and he, finding the general
belief to be that he was guilty of this most horrible crime, at length
confessed that he and Morris had been its perpetrators; that they had
broken into the house of the farmer, and having murdered the family,
from whom they met with considerable resistance, they had carried off
all the valuable property which they could find, and had then set fire
to the farm to prevent discovery.
The prisoner being put upon his trial at Haverfordwest, his confession
was read to him, and assented to as being true; and its leading points
being corroborated by other witnesses, he was found guilty, and suffered
death at the same place on 5th April, 1779.
[Illustration: _The London Riots._
_p. 295_]
JAMES MATHISON.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
This offender was tried on Thursday, the 20th of May, 1779. There
perhaps never appeared in any court of justice so ingenious a man in his
style as this person. His practice for some time past had been to go to
the Bank, and take out a note; this he counterfeited, passed the copy,
and, after some time, returned the original. His frequent applications
at length exciting suspicions, which were increased by his appearance in
life, and other circumstances, he was taken up. When brought before
Justice Fielding, he was there known to be the person charged with
forgeries upon the bank at Darlington. The particular forgery now
charged on him was for making and uttering a note for payment of twenty
pounds, with intent to defraud Mr. Mann, of Coventry, and the Bank of
England. The note was produced in court, and the witnesses were brought
to prove its having been negotiated by him.
This fact being established, the next circumstance in consideration was
to prove that the note was absolutely a counterfeit one. This his
prosecutors were totally unable to do by any testimony they could
adduce, so minutely and so dexterously had he feigned all the different
marks. The note itself was not only so made as to render it altogether
impossible for any human eyes to perceive a difference; but the very
hands of the cashier and the entering clerk were also so counterfeited
as entirely to preclude a positive discrimination even by those persons
themselves. The water mark in the paper, too, namely, "Bank of England,"
which the bankers had considered as an infallible criterion of fair
notes, a mark which could not be resembled by any possible means, was
also hit off by this man, so as to put it out of the power of the most
exact observer to perceive a difference. Several paper-makers were of
opinion that this mark must have been put on in the making of the paper;
but Mathison declared that he put it on afterwards by a peculiar method,
known only to himself. The extreme similitude of the fair and false
notes had such an effect upon the judge and jury that the prisoner would
certainly have been discharged, for want of evidence to prove the
counterfeit, if his own information, taken at Fielding's, had not been
produced against him, which immediately turned the scale, and he was
found guilty.
He was executed at Tyburn, pursuant to his sentence, on July 28th 1779.
At the place of execution he made a speech which took up some minutes;
wherein he acknowledged his guilt, and hoped for forgiveness from the
Almighty. He also warned others to avoid the crime for which he
suffered, and forgave his prosecutors.
THE RIOTS OF LONDON.
BEGINNING ON THE 2ND JUNE, 1780, WITH THE EXECUTION OF THE RIOTERS.
The history of London, from its earliest epoch, exhibits the occurrence
of no event of a more calamitous nature, or more pregnant with mischief,
than the riots of 1780. A commotion so rapid, and so daring in its
progress, was perhaps never known. The sovereignty of the King, and the
safety of the property of the subject, rested on laws which were
unsupported; the magistrates were confessedly intimidated; and all good
and loyal citizens were seized with a terror and panic, which were alone
dispelled by the restoration of tranquillity through the instrumentality
of the military force.
The origin of the riot is ascribed to the passing of an act of
Parliament, about two years previously, for "relieving his majesty's
subjects, of the Catholic Religion, from certain penalties and
disabilities imposed upon them during the reign of William III." A
petition to Parliament was framed for its repeal, and a general meeting
of a body of people, forming the Protestant Association, headed by Lord
George Gordon, was held on the 29th May, at the Coachmakers' Hall,
Noble-street, Aldersgate-street. At this meeting the noble lord moved
the following resolutions.
"Whereas no hall in London can contain forty thousand persons,
"Resolved,--That this association do meet on Friday next in St.
George's-fields, at ten o'clock in the morning, to consider the most
prudent and respectful manner of attending their petition, which will be
presented the same day to the House of Commons.
"Resolved,--For the sake of good order and regularity, that this
association, in coming to the ground, do separate themselves into four
divisions, viz.--the London division, the Westminster division, the
Southwark division, and the Scotch division.
"Resolved,--That the London division do take place of the ground towards
Southwark; the Westminster division second; the Southwark division
third; and the Scotch division upon the left, all wearing blue cockades,
to distinguish themselves from the papists, and those who approve of the
late act in favour of popery.
"Resolved,--That the magistrates of London, Westminster, and Southwark,
are requested to attend; that their presence may overawe and control any
riotous or evil-minded persons who may wish to disturb the legal and
peaceable deportment of his majesty's subjects."
His lordship having intimated that he would not present the petition
unless twenty thousand persons attended the meeting, and the resolutions
having been published and placarded through the streets, on the day
appointed a vast concourse of people from all parts of the City and its
environs assembled in St. George's-fields. The main body took their
route over London-bridge, marching in order, six or eight in a rank,
through the City towards Westminster, accompanied by flags bearing the
words "No Popery." At Charing-Cross, the mob was increased by additional
numbers on foot, on horseback, and in various vehicles, so that by the
time the different parties met together, all the avenues to both houses
of Parliament were entirely filled with the crowd. The rabble now took
possession of all the passages leading to the House of Commons, from the
outer doors to the very entrance for the members; which latter they
twice attempted to force open; and a like attempt was made at the House
of Lords, but without success in either instance. In the meantime, Lord
George Gordon came into the House of Commons with an unembarrassed
countenance, and a blue cockade in his hat, after "riding in the
whirlwind and directing the storm;" but finding it gave offence he took
it out and put it in his pocket; not however before Captain Herbert, of
the navy, one of the members, threatened to pull it out; while Colonel
Murray, another member, declared that, if the mob broke into the house,
he (looking at Lord George) should instantly be the victim.
The petition having been presented, the populace separated into parties,
and proceeded to demolish the Catholic chapels, in Duke-street,
Lincoln's Inn Fields, and Warwick-street, Golden-square; and all the
furniture, ornaments, and altars of both chapels were committed to the
flames. After various other outrages, the prison of Newgate was
attacked. They demanded from the keeper, Mr. Ackerman, the release of
their confined associates: he refused to comply; yet, dreading the
consequence, he went to the sheriff's to know their pleasure. On his
return he found his house in flames; and the jail itself was soon in a
similar situation. The doors and entrances were broken open with
crowbars and sledge-hammers; and it is scarcely to be credited with what
rapidity this strong prison was destroyed. The public office in
Bow-street, and Sir John Fielding's house, adjoining were presently
destroyed, and all their furniture and effects, books, papers, &c.
committed to the flames. Justice Coxe's house in Great Queen-street,
Lincoln's Inn Fields, was similarly treated; and the two prisons at
Clerkenwell set open, and the prisoners liberated. The King's Bench
Prison, with some houses adjoining, a tavern, and the New Bridewell,
were also set on fire, and almost entirely consumed.
The mob now appeared to consider themselves as superior to all
authority; they declared their resolution to burn all the remaining
public prisons; and demolish the Bank, the Temple, Gray's Inn, Lincoln's
Inn, the Mansion House, the royal palaces, and the arsenal at Woolwich.
The attempt upon the Bank of England was actually made twice in the
course of one day; but both attacks were but feebly conducted, and the
rioters easily repulsed, several of them falling by the fire of the
military, and many others being severely wounded.
To form an adequate idea of the distress of the inhabitants in every
part of the city would be impossible. Six-and-thirty fires were to be
seen blazing in the metropolis during the night.
At length the continued arrival of fresh troops, from all parts of the
country, within fifty or sixty miles of the metropolis, intimidated the
rabble; and soon after the disturbances were quelled.
The Royal Exchange, the public buildings, the squares, and the principal
streets, were all occupied by troops; the shops were closed; while
immense volumes of dense smoke were still rising from the ruins of
consumed edifices.
During the riots, many persons, terrified by the alarming outrages of
the mob, fled from London, and took refuge at places at a considerable
distance from town. The following account was written by Dr. Johnson to
Mrs. Thrale, who had gone into the country for safety; and may not prove
uninteresting. The doctor was an eye-witness to many of the scenes which
he depicts:--
"On Friday, the 2d of June, the good Protestants met in St. George's
Fields, at the summons of Lord George Gordon, and, marching to
Westminster, insulted the Lords and Commons, who all bore it with great
tameness. At night the outrages began by the demolishing the Mass-house
near Lincoln's Inn.
"On Monday, Mr. Strahan, who had been insulted, spoke to Lord Mansfield,
who had been insulted too, of the licentiousness of the populace; and
his lordship treated it as a very slight irregularity.
"On Tuesday night they pulled down Fielding's house (the public office
in Bow-street), and burnt his goods in the street. They had gutted, on
Monday, Sir George Saville's house; but the building was saved. On
Tuesday evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, they went to Newgate, to
demand their companions, who had been seized for demolishing the chapel.
The keeper could not release them but by the mayor's permission, which
he went to ask. At his return he found all the prisoners released, and
Newgate in a blaze. They then went to Bloomsbury, and fixed upon Lord
Mansfield's house, which they partly pulled down; and, as for his goods,
they totally burnt them. They went to Caen Wood (his lordship's
country-seat); but a guard was there before them. They plundered several
Papists, and burned a Mass-house, and some dwelling-houses in
Moorfields, the same night.
"On Wednesday I walked with Dr. Scott, to look at Newgate, and found it
in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I went by, the Protestants were
plundering the Sessions House at the Old Bailey. There was not, I
believe, a hundred; but they did their work at leisure, in full
security, without sentinels, and without trepidation, as men lawfully
employed in full day. Such is the cowardice of a commercial place!
"On Wednesday they broke open the Fleet Prison, the King's Bench and
Marshalsea Prisons, Wood-street Compter, and Clerkenwell Bridewell. At
night they set fire to the Fleet and the King's Bench, and I know not
how many other places; and one might see the glare of conflagration fill
the sky from many parts.--The sight was dreadful. Some people were
threatened: Mr. Strahan advised me to take care of myself. Such a time
of terror you would have been happy in not seeing.
"The king said in council 'That the magistrates had not done their duty,
but that he would do his own;' and a proclamation was published,
directing us to keep our servants within doors, as the peace was now to
be preserved by force.
"The soldiers were sent out to different parts, and the town is now
quiet. They are stationed so as to be everywhere within call; there is
no longer any body of rioters, and the individuals are hunted to their
holes, and led to prison: Lord George Gordon was last night sent to the
Tower.
"Mr. John Wilkes was this day in my neighbourhood, to seize the
publishers of a seditious pamphlet.
"Several chapels have been destroyed, and several inoffensive Papists
have been plundered: but the high sport was to burn the gaols. This was
a good rabble trick. The debtors and the criminals were set at liberty;
but of the criminals, as has always happened, many are already retaken;
and two pirates have surrendered themselves, and it is expected they
will be pardoned.
"Government now acts with its proper force; and we are all now again
under the protection of the king and the law. I thought it would be
agreeable to you to have my testimony to the public security; and that
you would sleep more quietly when I told you that you were safe.
"There has been, indeed, an universal panic, from which the king was the
first that recovered. Without the concurrence or assistance of his
ministers, or even the assistance of the civil magistrates, he put the
soldiers in motion, and saved the town from calamities such as a
rabble's government must naturally produce.
"The public has escaped a very heavy calamity. The rioters attempted
the Bank on Wednesday night, but in no great numbers; Jack Wilkes headed
the party that drove them away. It is agreed, that if they had seized
the Bank, on Tuesday, at the height of the pause, when no resistance had
been prepared, they might have carried away whatever they had found."
The number of persons killed in this dreadful riot is variously stated.
Many persons, strangers to the attempt, were destroyed by the
necessarily indiscriminate fire of the soldiers and militia; and
although it is impossible to calculate the precise number who lost their
lives, from the circumstance of many being carried off by their friends,
it is believed to be about 500.
Lord George Gordon, the leader and instigator of these riots, was
subsequently tried in the Court of King's Bench, and by some good
fortune escaped conviction. There was little doubt that he was
occasionally subject to aberrations of intellect. His death took place
some years afterwards in the King's Bench Prison. He had been indicted
for a libel on Marie Antoinette, the late unfortunate French queen, and
the Count d'Ademar, one of the ministers of state, and having been
convicted, fled from punishment; and was afterwards apprehended in
Birmingham, attired in the garb of a Jew, with a long beard, &c., where
he had undergone circumcision, and had embraced the religion of the
unbelievers. He died professing the same faith.
Many of the rioters were apprehended, and having been recognised, were
convicted, and suffered death in most instances opposite to the places
in which the scenes were enacted, in which they were proved to have
taken a part. Among them were many women and boys but there was not one
individual of respectability or character. They were all of the lowest
class, whose only object was plunder.
Among the rioters, to sum up the account of their infamy and
wretchedness, was Jack Ketch himself. This miscreant, whose real name
was Edward Dennis, was convicted of pulling down the house of Mr.
Boggis, of New Turnstile. The keeper of Tothill-fields' Bridewell would
not suffer Jack Ketch to go among the other prisoners, lest they should
tear him to pieces. In order that he might hang up his brother rioters,
he was granted a pardon!
The following is an extract from the king's speech to both houses of
parliament, the 18th of June, soon after the riots were ended:--
"My Lords and Gentlemen,--The outrages committed by bands of lawless and
desperate men, in various parts of this metropolis, broke forth with
such violence into acts of felony and treason, had so far overborne all
civil authority, and threatened directly the immediate subversion of all
legal power, the destruction of all property, and the confusion of every
order of the state, that I found myself obliged, by every tie of duty
and affection to my people, to suppress, in every part, those rebellious
insurrections, and to provide for the public safety by the most
effectual and immediate application of the force entrusted to me by
parliament. I have directed copies of the proclamations issued upon that
occasion to be laid before you.
"Proper orders have been given for bringing the authors and abettors of
these insurrections, and the perpetrators of such criminal acts, to
speedy trial, and to such condign punishment as the laws of their
country prescribe, and the vindication of public justice demands.
"Though I trust it is not necessary, yet I think it right, at this time,
to renew to you my solemn assurances that I have no other object but to
make the laws of the realm, and the principles of our excellent
constitution in Church and State, the rule and measure of my conduct;
and that I shall ever consider it as the first duty of my station, and
the chief glory of my reign, to maintain and preserve the established
religion of my kingdoms, and, as far as in me lies, to secure and to
perpetuate the rights and liberties of my people."
ABRAHAM DURNFORD AND WILLIAM NEWTON.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
In the case of these men we present a species of robbery different in
the plan of its commission from every one yet described.
It was proved, on their trial at the Old Bailey, that they hired an
empty house, No. 21, Water-lane, Fleet-street; and, having a bill of
exchange lying at the bank of Smith, Wright, and Gray, they directed it
for payment at this house. They made preparation for cleaning, in order,
as they pretended, to furnish it with despatch; but the landlord, not
liking this extraordinary haste, or his new tenants, desired Mrs.
Boucher, the mistress of a public-house opposite, to have an eye on
their proceedings.
Accordingly, on the day the bill became due, being the 5th of August,
1780, she observed the new tenants, Durnford and Newton, then prisoners
at the bar, enter the house, and open the parlour windows. Soon after
she saw a third man knock at the door, which was open, and he entered.
Watching the event, she heard an uncommon noise, and, stepping over the
way to listen, heard the cry of "Murder!" as from a hoarse faint voice,
succeeded by a kind of groaning, which very much alarmed her; and,
looking through the key-hole, she saw two men dragging a third down the
cellar stairs; on which she cried out loudly "They're murdering a man!"
She knocked hard at the door, and begged the people in the street to
break it open; but none would interfere. Being enraged at their not
assisting her, she burst open the window, and was entering the house,
when Newton jumped out of the one pair of stairs' window, and was
running off; but, on the cry of "Stop thief!" he was instantly taken;
Mrs. Boucher seized the other by the throat herself, and dragged him to
her own house.
The house was then immediately searched, and in a back cellar was found
a man, bound, and nearly choked to prevent his calling out. He proved to
be a collecting clerk for Smith, Wright, and Gray, named James Watts.
They had robbed him of his pocket-book, and would have murdered him had
not the woman saved his life.
Mr. Watts, a young Quaker, aged eighteen, the party robbed and alluded
to, would not, according to the doctrines of the particular sect to
which he belonged, be sworn, which is required by the law in all cases,
so that their conviction rested chiefly on the evidence of Mrs. Boucher;
but not a shadow of a doubt existed of their guilt, and they were
convicted and executed on the 22nd of November, 1780.
The story of Mr. Watts was that on his knocking at the door, he was
admitted immediately, and having entered the house he was collared and
seized by two men, whom he afterwards knew to be the prisoners, who
attempted to gag him, and forced him down stairs. Fearing that their
intention was to murder him, he succeeded in getting from them by an
extraordinary effort, and ran to the street-door; but finding it locked
he was unable to offer any further opposition to their violence. His
screams providentially alarmed Mrs. Boucher, but not until his book,
containing upwards of 4000_l._ had been taken from him. It is rather
singular that Mr. Watts was himself convicted of robbing his employers
in the year 1781, and subjected to two years' imprisonment.
FRANCIS HENRY DE LA MOTTE.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
The offence of this man was one of the most despicable character. A
native of France, and in the service of the French king, he lived long
in London, employing himself as a spy upon the proceedings of the
English government. He occupied elegant lodgings in Bond-street, dressed
like a gentleman, kept the best company, and passed for a foreigner of
fortune. At length, however, suspicions arose of his real character, and
a watch being set upon his motions, they were found to be fully
justified, and he was apprehended and committed to the Tower.
On his trial various acts of treason were proved against him, and he was
found guilty.
Sentence was immediately pronounced upon him, "that he should be hanged
by the neck, but not until he was dead; that he should then be cut down,
and his bowels taken out and burnt before his face; and that his head
should be taken off, his body cut into four quarters, and be placed at
his majesty's disposal."
He was remanded to the Tower, and at the expiration of a fortnight a
warrant was issued from the office of the secretary of state for his
execution.
The sheriffs demanded his body, on the 27th of July, 1781, of the
lieutenant of the Tower, and carried him to Newgate, from thence in
about a quarter of an hour they set out with him to Tyburn.
La Motte was dressed in a suit of black. His deportment was manly and
serious: he seemed to be totally abstracted from the surrounding
multitude, as he scarcely ever took his eyes from a devotional book
which he held in his hand.
Upon his arrival at the fatal tree he was immediately removed from the
sledge in which he had been conveyed. He then employed some minutes in
earnest devotion; after which he twice bowed respectfully to the
sheriffs, and turned to the executioner, desiring him immediately to
perform his office.
After hanging fifty-seven minutes the body was cut down and laid on a
block, when (a fire having been previously kindled) the executioner
severed the head from the trunk, and making an incision from his breast,
ripped out the heart, which, after being exposed to the surrounding
spectators, was thrown into the flames.
The body was then scorched, together with the head, and put into a very
handsome coffin, which was delivered to an undertaker for interment.
Amongst other effects of the handiwork of La Motte in favour of his own
country, it is said that the attack of a French fleet under the command
of Commodore Suffrein upon the British fleet under Commodore Johnstone,
in the neutral harbour of Port Praya Road, on its way to the East
Indies, whither it was convoying a number of merchantmen, was
attributable to him. The English fleet was taken in an unexpected
manner. As many as one thousand five hundred of its men are related to
have been on shore at the time of the attack; some of whom were employed
in collecting water, and others in obtaining exercise, when the
Frenchmen hove in sight; and before the necessary arrangements could be
made to receive them, forced their way in line into the very midst of
the British vessels. Commodore Johnstone, however, with the bravery of a
British sailor, succeeded in compelling them to sheer off; but not until
he had sustained a loss of upwards of two hundred men. The movements and
strength of the English fleets were at that time made no secrets; and La
Motte, having obtained the necessary information in the instance in
question, conveyed it to his own country through the medium of one
Luttorlok, a Dutchman, who succeeded in effecting his escape, while his
companion in iniquity suffered an ignominious death.
JOHN DONELLAN, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF SIR THEODOSIUS BOUGHTON, BART., HIS
BROTHER-IN-LAW.
The case of Mr. Donellan is one of a very remarkable nature, and from
the character of the testimony produced has been the subject of much
conversation and remark amongst persons connected with the professions
of medicine and chemistry.
The accused, Mr. Donellan, had been a captain in the army, and was the
son of Colonel Donellan. At the age of twelve years he entered into the
Royal Regiment of Artillery, with part of which he went to the East
Indies in 1754. On his arrival there he changed his service into the
39th foot; but on that regiment being ordered home, he, with many other
of his officers, had his majesty's leave to remain in the service of the
East India Company, without prejudice to their rank in the army. He then
obtained a company, and certainly distinguished himself as a good
soldier, not only having been much wounded in the service, but, if his
own account may be credited, being singularly instrumental to the taking
of Mazulapatam. Being appointed, however, one of the four agents for
prize-money, he condescended to receive presents from some black
merchants, to whom part of their effects had been ordered to be
restored, for which he was tried by a court-martial, and cashiered. He
subsequently purchased a share in the Pantheon, where he figured for
some time as master of the ceremonies; and after a variety of
applications he at length obtained a certificate from the War-office,
that he had behaved in the East Indies "like a gallant officer;" in
consequence of which he was put upon half-pay in the 39th regiment. But
notwithstanding the most strenuous memorials and petitions representing
his great services, and insisting that the offence for which he was
broke was of a civil nature only, and not cognizable by a court-martial,
he never could obtain a restoration into the Company's service. In
June, 1777, he married Miss Boughton; and on Friday, March 30th, 1781,
he was tried at the assizes at Warwick for the wilful murder of Sir
Theodosius Edward Allesley Boughton, Bart., his brother-in-law. The
evidence was of such a nature that the fairest mode of stating it will
be by repeating it as it appeared on the trial.
Mr. Powell, apothecary of Rugby, deposed that he had attended Sir
Theodosius Boughton for two months before his death, on account of a
slight complaint of a certain description.
On Wednesday morning, the 27th of February, he was sent for to Lawton
Hall, and on his arrival there at a little before nine o'clock, Capt.
Donellan conducted him to the apartment of Sir Theodosius. On his
entering, he perceived that the baronet was dead, and on his examining
the body he concluded that it was about an hour since life had fled. He
had some conversation with Captain Donellan with regard to the deceased,
and he was told by him that, he had "died in convulsions." He could not
recollect the precise nature of the conversation, but the general effect
of what Captain Donellan said was, that the deceased gentleman had taken
cold.
Lady Boughton, the mother of the deceased, deposed that Sir Theodosius
was twenty years old on the 3rd of August last. On his coming of age, he
would have been entitled to above 2000_l._ a year; and in the event of
his dying a minor, the greater part of his fortune was to descend to his
sister, the wife of Mr. Donellan. It was known in the family on the
evening of Tuesday, the 26th, that Sir Theodosius was to take his physic
the next morning. He used to put his physic in the dressing-room. He
happened once to omit to take it; upon which Mr. Donellan said, "Why
don't you set it in your outer room? then you would not so soon forget
it." After this he several times put the medicines upon his shelf over
the chimney-piece in his outer room. On the evening of Tuesday, the
26th, about six o'clock, Sir Theodosius went out fishing, attended only
by one servant, Samuel Frost. Witness and Mrs. Donellan took a walk in
the garden, and were there above an hour. To the best of her
recollection she had seen nothing of Mr. Donellan after dinner till
about seven o'clock, when he came out of the house-door in the garden,
and told them that "he had been to see them fishing, and that he would
have persuaded Sir Theodosius to come in, lest he should take cold, but
he could not." Sir Theodosius came home a little after nine, apparently
very well; and he went up into his own room soon after, and went to bed.
He requested her to call him the next morning and give him his physic.
She accordingly went into his room about seven in the morning, when he
appeared to be very well. She asked him "Where the bottle was?" and he
said "It stands there upon the shelf." He desired her to read the label,
which she accordingly did, and found there was written upon it "Purging
draught for Sir Theodosius Boughton." As he was taking it, he observed,
"it smelled and tasted very nauseous;" upon which she said "I think it
smells very strongly like bitter almonds." He then remarked that "he
thought he should not be able to keep the medicine upon his stomach."
Here a bottle was delivered to Lady Boughton, containing the genuine
draught, which she was desired to smell at, and inform the Court whether
it smelt like the medicine Sir Theodosius took. She answered in the
negative. She was then desired to smell at another, containing the
draught with the addition of laurel-water, which she said had a smell
very much like that of the medicine she gave to Sir Theodosius. Lady
Boughton then proceeded with her evidence. In two minutes after Sir
Theodosius had taken the draught, he struggled very much. It appeared to
her as if it was to keep the draught down. He made a prodigious rattling
in his stomach, and guggling; and these symptoms continued about ten
minutes. He then seemed as if he was going to sleep, or inclined to
dose; and perceiving him a little composed, she went out of the room.
She returned in about five minutes after, and to her great surprise
found him with his eyes fixed upwards, his teeth clenched, and foam
running out of his mouth. She instantly desired a servant to take the
first horse he could get and go for Mr. Powell. She saw Mr. Donellan in
less than five minutes after. He came into the room where Sir Theodosius
lay, and said to her, "What do you want?" She answered that she wanted
to inform him what a terrible thing had happened; that it was an
unaccountable thing in the doctor to send such a medicine, for if it had
been taken by a dog it would have killed him; and she did not think her
son would live. He inquired in what way Sir Theodosius then was; and on
being told, he asked her where the physic bottle was; on which she
showed him the two draughts; when he took up one of the bottles, and
said, "Is this it?" She answered "Yes." He then, after rinsing it,
emptied it in some dirty water that was in a wash-hand basin; and on his
doing so she said, "What are you at? you should not meddle with the
bottles." Upon that he snatched up the other bottle and rinsed it, and
then he put his finger to it and tasted it. She repeated that he ought
not to meddle with the bottles; upon which he replied, that "he did it
to taste it." Two servants, named Sarah Blundell and Catherine Amos,
afterwards came into the room, and he desired the former to take away
the basin and the bottles, and he put the bottles into her hands. The
witness, however, took the bottles from her, and set them down, bidding
her not to touch them; and the prisoner then desired that the room might
be cleaned, and the dirty clothes thrown into the inner room. This being
done, the witness turned her back for a moment, on which the prisoner
again handed the servant the bottles, and bid her take them away, and
she accordingly removed them. Witness soon afterwards went into the
parlour, where she found Mr. and Mrs. Donellan; and the former told his
wife "that her mother had been pleased to take notice of his washing the
bottles, and that he did not know what he should have done, if he had
not thought of saying that he put the water into them to put his finger
to it to taste." The witness made an answer to this observation, and the
prisoner directed his wife to ring the bell in order to call up the
servant. When the servant came, he ordered him to send in the coachman;
and when he came, the prisoner said, "Will, don't you remember that I
set out of these iron gates at seven o'clock this morning?" "Yes, sir,"
said he. "And that was the first time of my going out; I have never been
on the other side of the house this morning: you remember that I set out
there this morning at seven o'clock, and asked for a horse to go to the
wells?" "Yes, sir." Mr. Donellan said, "then you are my evidence." The
servant answered, "Yes, sir." She did not recollect that the prisoner
made any observation. The witness further said that Mr. Donellan
received a letter from Sir William Wheeler, desiring the body might be
opened, and that he showed her his answer to this letter. She told him
he had better let it alone, and not to send such a letter as that; but
she did not tell him the reason of her disliking it. He replied, that
"it was necessary to send an answer, and he would send that." She
afterwards attended before the coroner and the jury in order to be
examined, when Mr. Donellan also was present; and she mentioned to the
jury the circumstance of the prisoner's rinsing the bottles. Being
returned to Lawford Hall, the prisoner said to his wife before the
witness, that she had no occasion to have told the circumstance of his
washing the bottles: she was only to answer such questions as were put
to her; and that question had not been asked her. Being asked whether
Mr. Donellan did not endeavour to account to her for her son's death,
she answered, that when the things were removed in order to be put in
the inner room, he said to the maid, "Here, take his stockings; they
have been wet; he has catched cold, to be sure: and that might occasion
his death." On that she examined the stockings, and there was no mark or
appearance of their having been wet. In answer to some further
questions, she denied that she or any of the family had ever declined
eating of the same dishes that Sir Theodosius did. Mr. Donellan, indeed,
had recommended to her not to drink out of the same cup, because he was
affected with a certain disorder; nor to touch the bread he did, because
there might be arsenic about his fingers, as he used that poison when he
was fishing.
Catherine Amos corroborated the testimony of her mistress, and said,
that she was called up stairs to the room where Sir Theodosius lay, at
the time when the surgeons were engaged in opening the body, and she
heard Mr. Donellan say "that there was nothing the matter; and that it
was a blood-vessel which broke, which had occasioned the death of his
brother-in-law." About a fortnight afterwards Mr. Donellan brought her a
still, which had been recently washed, and he desired her to put it into
the oven to dry, in order that it might not rust.
Mr. Kerr, surgeon of Northampton, deposed, that he attended Sir
Theodosius when he was at Mr. Jones's. His disorder was so slight that
he did not think it a subject of medicine at all. He ordered him some
lotion to wash with, and dissuaded him from the use of medicine.
Dr. Rattray, of Coventry, deposed, that in consequence of an anonymous
note which he received, and which desired him to bring Mr. Wilmer with
him, in order to open the body of Sir Theodosius Boughton, they went
together, and met Mr. Bucknell, Mr. Powell, and Mr. Snow, in Newbold
churchyard. Mr. Bucknell opened the body. The witness then proceeded to
describe the external appearances of the body, and its appearances in
the dissecting. He was asked whether, as he had heard the evidence of
Mr. Powell and Lady Boughton, he could, from that evidence, totally
independent of the appearances he had described, form a judgment as to
the cause of the death of Sir Theodosius. He answered, that, exclusive
of these appearances, he was of opinion, from the symptoms that followed
the taking of the draught, that it was poison, and the certain cause of
his death. Being desired to smell at the bottle, and asked what was the
noxious medicine in it, he said it was a distillation of laurel-leaves,
called laurel-water. Here he entered into a detail of several
experiments on animals, tending to show the instantaneous and mortal
effects of the laurel-water. He knew nothing in medicine that
corresponded in smell with that mixture, which was like that of bitter
almonds. He further said that the quantity of laurel-water contained in
the bottle shown to him was sufficient to be the death of any human
creature; and that the appearances of the body confirmed him in his
opinion that the deceased was poisoned, so far as, upon the viewing a
body so long after the death of the subject, one could be allowed to
form a judgment upon such appearances.
Mr. Wilmer and Dr. Parsons, professor of anatomy at Oxford, confirmed
the evidence of Dr. Rattray.
Dr. Ashe, of Birmingham, was of opinion, from the symptoms described,
that the deceased died by poison. If the laurel-water were distilled
strong enough to collect the essential oil, a tea-spoonful of it would
destroy animal life in a few seconds; and he believed as strong a poison
might be made from bitter almonds.
Mary Lymnes deposed, that she had been servant to Lady Boughton. Mr.
Donellan was in the habit of distilling roses occasionally, and he kept
his still in an apartment which was called his room, and in which he
slept when Mrs. Donellan lay in.
Francis Amos, gardener to Lady Boughton, deposed, that he was with Sir
Theodosius the whole time he was fishing, the night before he died. Mr.
Donellan was not there. Two or three days after Sir Theodosius died, he
brought him a still to clean; it was full of wet lime. He said he used
the lime to kill fleas. The witness used to gather lavender for him to
distil. In the garden there were laurels, bays, and laurustinus.
William Crofts, one of the coroner's jury, deposed, that on the
examination of Lady Boughton, when she said that "Captain Donellan
rinsed the bottle," he saw the captain catch her by the gown, and give
her a twitch.
John Darbyshire deposed, that he had been a prisoner in Warwick jail for
debt; that Mr. Donellan and he had a bed in the same room for a month or
five weeks. He remembered to have had a conversation with him about Sir
Theodosius being poisoned. On his asking him whether the body was
poisoned or not, he said, "There was no doubt of it." The witness said,
"For God's sake, captain, who could do it?" He answered, "It was amongst
themselves; he had no hand in it." The witness asked, "Whom he meant by
themselves?" He said, "Sir Theodosius himself, Lady Boughton, the
footman, and the apothecary." The witness replied, "Sure, Sir Theodosius
could not do it himself!" He said he did not think he did--he could not
believe he would. The witness answered, "the apothecary could hardly do
it--he would lose a good patient; the footman could have no interest in
it; and it was unnatural to suppose that Lady Boughton would do it." He
then said, "how covetous Lady Boughton was! she had received an
anonymous letter the day after Sir Theodosius's death, charging her
plump with poisoning him; that she called him and read it to him, and
she trembled; she desired he would not let his wife know of that letter,
and asked him if he would give up his right to the personal estate, and
to some estates of about two hundred pounds a year, belonging to the
family." The conversation was about a month after the captain came into
the jail. At other times he said, "that it was impossible he could do a
thing that never was in his power."
This being the chief evidence, the prisoner in his defence pleaded a
total ignorance of the fact, and several respectable characters bore
testimony to his integrity. The jury, however, found him guilty, and he
received sentence of death.
At seven o'clock on the next day, the 2nd of April, 1781, he was carried
to the place of execution at Warwick, in a mourning-coach, followed by a
hearse and the sheriff's officers in deep mourning. As he went on he
frequently put his head out of the coach, desiring the prayers of the
people around him.
On his arrival at the fatal spot he alighted from the coach, and,
ascending a few steps of the ladder, prayed for a considerable time, and
then joined in the usual service with the greatest appearance of
devotion: he next in an audible tone of voice addressed the spectators
to this effect:--That, as he was then going to appear before God, to
whom all deceit was known, he solemnly declared that he was innocent of
the crime for which he was to suffer; that he had drawn up a vindication
of himself, which he hoped the world would believe, for it was of more
consequence to him to speak truth than falsehood, and he had no doubt
but that time would reveal the many mysteries that had arisen in his
trial.
After praying fervently some time he let his handkerchief fall--a signal
agreed upon between him and the executioner--and was launched into
eternity. When the body had hung the usual time it was put into a black
coffin, and conveyed to the Town Hall to be dissected.
It is almost needless to inform our readers, that the poison with which
the unfortunate Sir Theodosius was murdered was prussic acid, at that
time only recently introduced and little known.
DAVID TYRIE.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
The charge against this malefactor was that of sending intelligence of
our naval affairs to France during the time of war. The prisoner was by
birth a Scotchman, and having lived as a clerk in the service of a Mr.
Powell for five years, he entered into business for himself, but was so
far unsuccessful as to be made a bankrupt. He subsequently obtained a
situation in the Navy Office, Portsmouth, where he was most traitorously
guilty of the offence imputed to him.
He was tried at Winchester, by virtue of a special commission, on the
10th of August, 1782, when the charge alleged against him was supported
by the following testimony.
Maria Harvey proved that a bundle of papers, the property of Tyrie, had
been delivered to her by a Mrs. Askew, about the 13th of February; that
the particular charge given with them had raised her curiosity to
inquire into the contents of the bundle. She had been induced in
consequence to open them, and thinking that the contents were of a
dangerous nature, she carried them to a Mr. Page, in Westminster, who
being of the same opinion, they were conveyed to the office of the
secretary of state. The papers on being examined proved to be copies of
papers called the "Navy Progresses;" being a list of all the ships of
the navy, the situation and state of repair of each, &c. To these were
added remarks on their destination, a description of the dock-yards at
Portsmouth, Plymouth, and all the public, and even of several private,
docks. They also contained a plan, by which it was proposed to furnish
a person in France with intelligence on very moderate terms, when the
importance of the object was considered; the particulars were, an
express to be employed which would travel four hundred and fifty miles,
to be paid at thirteen pence per mile; a monthly salary of five or six
guineas to a person at each of the dock-yards; also a salary of two or
three guineas to a man in the lesser yards. There were a number of other
papers produced, all going to the purpose of giving information to the
enemies.
Captain William James also proved that Tyrie had bargained with him to
go to Boulogne to purchase wines. He had agreed to pay him fifteen
guineas in money for the voyage, and to provide him with a letter of
credit for fifty pounds to trade with. Upon his being about to sail, the
prisoner delivered to him a packet of letters for the commandant of the
port, and a passport for Boulogne or Cherbourg; but feeling that it was
not proper to carry letters to the French coast in time of war, he
consulted a Captain Harrison upon the propriety of doing so. The latter
advised him against it, and they opened the packet: it contained five
letters, which gave an account of the sailing of some frigates to
intercept a fleet of French transports; a particular account of the
departure of the East and West India fleets, together with the names and
strength of their respective convoys, besides other important
information of the same character. One of these letters, it appeared,
was signed by the prisoner, in his own name, and the others in the name
of Croix; and it was proved that the whole of them, as well as the
papers produced by Mrs. Harvey, were in his handwriting.
The case having been left to the jury for their consideration, they
immediately returned a verdict of guilty.
Mr. Justice Heath then passed upon the unhappy prisoner the sentence of
the law, which was the same as that in the case of La Motte, which has
very recently been alluded to, and which was subsequently carried out in
its fullest terms.
The prisoner behaved during his trial with remarkable composure, and met
his fate without any apparent emotion.
WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
In the execution of this unhappy man, the world may be said to have
sustained a severe loss; for Mr. Ryland was an engraver of first-rate
abilities, and of very considerable celebrity. He was a native of Wales,
and his father having been patronised by the Welch baronet, Sir Watkin
Williams Wynne, he was named after that individual. While yet young, he
displayed considerable talent, and in the early part of his
apprenticeship he engraved a head of his godfather in a style which
betokened unusual taste and power. Having completed his term, he visited
the French and Italian schools; and in the former obtained the honorary
medal, which was presented to him in Paris. On his return to England, he
introduced the admired art of engraving in imitation of chalk drawings;
and soon after George III. had ascended the throne, he was appointed by
him to the situation of his engraver, with a salary of two hundred
pounds a year; and the queen added one hundred pounds a year more out
of her privy purse, as a testimony of her approbation of his
extraordinary talents.
A few years previous to the fatal act for which he suffered, Mr. Ryland
entered into partnership with a Mr. Bryer, and they jointly opened a
shop in Cornhill, where they carried on a very extensive trade in
prints; the former still continuing to exercise his abilities in the art
of engraving. But although their business was productive of great
profit, several heavy losses, occurring almost at the same time, so
deranged their pecuniary affairs, that a bankruptcy ensued.
Some years after this failure, Mr. Ryland, on his own separate account,
opened a print-shop in the Strand, where he had every prospect of
success; but being fond of a private life, he quitted his business, and
retired to Pimlico, and thence to Knightsbridge, where, by one fatal
act, he entirely ruined his reputation as a man; but his name, as an
artist, will ever stand in the highest estimation. At this time Mr.
Ryland had recovered his losses in trade, and was bequeathed shares in
the Liverpool Water Works, which were then deemed to be worth ten
thousand pounds: his business was worth two thousand pounds a year, and
his stock was valued at ten thousand pounds more. Such was his own
statement of his property, in his defence on his trial; and it was
supposed that, in order to engross the remaining shares in his Liverpool
concern, he committed the forgery for which he suffered.
The forged instruments so exactly resembled the real bills that it was
scarcely possible to know one from the other; but it being discovered
that two bills of the same tenor and date were out, and consequently
that one of them must prove a forgery, suspicion fell so strong on
Ryland that he was induced to secrete himself, and a reward was offered
for his apprehension. He went in disguise to Stepney, and took an
obscure lodging at the hovel of one Richard Freeman, a cobbler,
accompanied by Mrs. Ryland, the wretched partner of his misfortune,
passing as Mr. and Mrs. Jackson; and there he continued for some time to
evade the search after him, till one fatal step of the unfortunate woman
who was watching over his safety caused his apprehension. She took,
unconscious of danger, one of her husband's shoes to the cobbler to be
mended, with the name of "Ryland" on the inside of it. This was fatal:
the cobbler, in order to obtain the reward, delivered up his lodger.
When the officers of justice went to apprehend Ryland, they found him in
a corner of the room on his knees, and heard a noise like a guggling in
his throat, and upon approaching him they found that he had attempted
suicide. He had a razor in his hand, and a basin stood before him; but
the wound which he had inflicted did not prove mortal.
On the 20th July, 1783, he was arraigned at the bar of the Old Bailey,
on an indictment charging him with feloniously forging and uttering a
certain bill of exchange for 210_l._ sterling, purporting to be a bill
drawn by the gentlemen of the factory at Fort George, Madras, on the
Hon. East India Company, with intent to defraud the said Company, &c.
The solicitor to the East India Company, who prosecuted the prisoner,
endeavoured, by several proofs, to bring home the charge to the accused;
but, though forgery was manifest, yet it was so nice a point to
distinguish the true bill from the false one, that it was, during the
trial, supposed that they could not convict him, until Mr. Whatman,
paper-manufacturer at Maidstone, appeared as a witness.
Mr. Whatman deposed that the paper of the forged bill was of his
manufacture. He then explained to the Court his reasons for thinking so:
the moulds, he said, in which the paper of the bill was made, were
received by him in February, 1780, but were not used before the December
following: they were then worked with; and the first paper sent to
London made by them was on the 27th of April, 1781: but he was convinced
that the paper on which the bill was written was not sent before the 3d
of May, 1782; and the way by which he knew it was, that there were
defects in it, which exactly agreed with those in the sheets of paper
which he produced, and which had been made by him at that period. It was
further proved that the instruments bore date antecedent to the time of
the paper being made; and this evidence being conclusive, in spite of
the prisoner's arguments that his fortune being ample he had no reason
to commit the offence imputed to him, he was found guilty.
He was executed at Tyburn on the 29th August, 1783, being the last
person who suffered by the hands of the executioner at that place.
CHRISTOPHER TRUSTY, AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR RETURNING FROM TRANSPORTATION.
The year 1783 crowded the prisons of England to a degree never before
known, though the offences of the prisoners were not distinguished by
any particular enormity, and were generally devoid of that interest
which entitles them to a place in our Calendar.
Of these numerous offenders, one hundred and fifty were proceeding to
North America, on board the Swift transport, pursuant to their sentence,
when they rose on the captain and crew, in the Downs, on the 30th of
August, and, after confining them, got on shore at Deal, and all made
their escape.
On this intelligence reaching London, Mr. Justice Blackborow ordered the
constables attending at his office to search for the fugitives in the
different places of iniquitous resort. Having armed themselves each with
cutlasses, Redgrave, Season, and Isaacs, accordingly went to a house in
Onslow-street, Saffron-hill, where, in one room, they found five
returned transports, two of whom ran up stairs, and escaped by lowering
themselves from a back window, by means of the bed-clothes: but the
others, arming themselves, one with a poker, another with a shovel, and
a third with a clasp-knife, having a blade about six inches long, as
with one voice, cried out "Cut away! we shall be hanged, if taken; and
we will die on the spot, rather than submit!" All expostulation proving
fruitless, the officers attempted to seize them, upon which a dreadful
conflict ensued, and many wounds were given and received, but at length
the villains surrendered, and were conveyed before Mr. Blackborow for
examination. Being asked by the magistrate by what means they had
procured their liberty, they acknowledged that they had run the ship on
shore; adding, that to recover their liberty was not difficult, as, in
compassion of their sufferings, the captain permitted eighteen or
twenty convicts to be upon deck at one time, unfettered: that, on the
third day of being thus indulged, they (the prisoners), and others who
were upon deck, liberated the rest; and, having confined the captain and
crew, ran the vessel on the sands, and got on shore in the two
long-boats: that no cruelty was exercised upon any part of the crew, nor
any property stolen from the vessel, except that some of the convicts
obliged the sailors to change clothes with them: that they concealed
themselves in hedges and ditches till night, and then took different
routes: that they collected half-a-crown among themselves, which they
gave to a countryman for conducting them to Rye, whence they walked up
to London, where they had arrived but a very short time before they were
apprehended.
In the September sessions, at the Old Bailey, Christopher Trusty, and
twenty-three others, were capitally convicted of the offence of being
found at large in this kingdom before the term for which they were
ordered to be transported had expired, and received judgment of death.
Six of the ringleaders, viz. Charles Thomas, William Matthews, Thomas
Millington, Christopher Trusty, David Hart, and Abraham Hyams, were
selected for immediate execution, and were hanged on the 22d of
September, sentence having been passed upon them on the 20th.
No fewer than fifty-four prisoners received sentence of death on the
same day, in many of whose cases the extreme penalty of the law was
subsequently inflicted.
SAMUEL HARRIS AND JOHN NORTH.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
At the Admiralty sessions, held on the 11th of November, 1784, these men
were tried for the wilful murder of John M'Nier, one of the mariners
belonging to his majesty's cutter the Nimble, in the service of the
Customs.
On the trial it appeared that on the night of the 30th of April last, it
being clear moonlight, a vessel was observed at about two miles distance
from Deal, hovering or standing in towards the shore, which was supposed
to be a smuggler. Lieutenant Bray, commander of the Nimble, being
acquainted with the fact, manned three boats, and proceeded to speak to
her, and, coming within hail, told them his name and business, which was
to board and search her. He was answered by many voices with
imprecations, bidding him keep off; and a volley was instantly fired
into his boat, whereby M'Nier, one of the crew, received a shot in his
right breast, near the pap, of which he instantly died. Lieutenant Bray
then proceeded to board the vessel, which proved to be the Juliet
lugger, of Deal, (laden with about four hundred tubs or half-ankers of
spirits,) but he received another volley: he however persisted, and
boarded the lugger, when an engagement began, in which some men fell.
North leaped overboard, but was taken, and Harris was found concealed in
the hold. He said that he was only a passenger, and had been waiter at
the assembly-house at Margate, where he was then going; but unluckily
for him he had on a pair of trousers and a seaman's jacket, in the
pockets of which were found several musket and pistol balls.
On this evidence the prisoners were found guilty; and on the morning of
the 13th, two days after conviction, they were taken from the cells of
Newgate, put into a cart, and conveyed to the gallows, which was erected
on a platform at Execution Dock, and there executed.
CHARLES PRICE.
CHARGED WITH FORGERY.
The subject of this narrative was born about the year 1730, in
London--his father lived in Monmouth-street, and carried on the trade of
a salesman in old clothes, and there he died, in the year 1752, of a
broken heart, occasioned, it is said, by the bad conduct of his
children.
In early life Price exhibited those traits of duplicity, which were
manifested in his subsequent career, frequently defrauding his father,
and disposing of the property, which he carried off to the Jews,
disguised in his brother's clothes. By this means his brother was
occasionally chastised in his place, while he escaped unpunished.
The following anecdote of his ingenuity is highly characteristic of his
disposition. His father, tired of his tricks and knaveries, put him
apprentice to a hosier in St. James's-street, but even here he was
unable to restrain his appetite for fraud. Having managed, on the
occasion of one of his visits to his home, to carry off a suit of
clothes of elegant workmanship, he dressed himself with becoming taste,
and, thus disguised, proceeded to his master's shop. Calling himself the
Hon. Mr. Bolingbroke, he selected a variety of silk stockings of
beautiful texture, undiscovered by his employer, and on quitting the
house, he desired that the goods should be sent to him at Hanover House
in an hour's time, when he promised that he would pay for them. Being
perfectly aware that it would be his duty to carry home the goods, Price
immediately stripped himself of his disguise, and, returning to his
master's residence, was directed to convey the parcel to Hanover House.
He soon came back declaring that Mr. Bolingbroke was out, and that he
had left the stockings with the bill; but it being speedily ascertained
that they had been lodged with a pawnbroker instead of the supposed
customer, and his ingenious scheme being discovered, he was dismissed
from his employment.
He had not been long at liberty, before he sailed for Holland, and there
assuming the name of Johnson, he obtained a situation as clerk in the
counting-house of a merchant, by means of a forged letter of
introduction. Having debauched his master's daughter, and carried off a
considerable sum of money, he thought it prudent to return to England;
but having there soon expended the proceeds of his fraud in dissipation,
he was again thrown upon the world.
His wits, however, were not exhausted, nor did they ever slumber long.
He determined upon a trial to establish a brewery, by obtaining a
partner with money; and as a first step towards it, in the year 1775, he
issued the following curious advertisement:--
"Wanted,--A partner of character, probity, and extensive acquaintance,
upon a plan permanent and productive. Fifty per cent. without risk, may
be obtained. It is not necessary he should have any knowledge of the
business, which the advertiser possesses to its fullest extent; but he
must possess a capital of between five hundred and one thousand pounds
to purchase materials, with which, to the knowledge of the advertiser, a
large fortune must be made in a very short time.
"Address to P. C., Cardigan Head, Charing Cross.
"P. S. None but principals, and those of liberal ideas, will be treated
with."
To this advertisement the famous comedian, Samuel Foote, paid attention.
Eager to seize what he thought a golden opportunity, he advanced the sum
of five hundred pounds for a brewery; we need not add, that the sum soon
disappeared, and Foote retired from the concern, having gained nothing
but experience and disappointment. Price, however, had the impudence to
apply to him again, wishing him to unite in the baking trade; but the
comedian archly replied, "As you have brewed, so you may bake; but I'll
be cursed if ever you bake as you have brewed!"
After this unfortunate business, Mr. Price turned methodist preacher,
and in this character defrauded several persons of large sums of money.
Advertising in order to get gentlemen wives, he swindled a person of the
name of Wigmore of fifty guineas, for which he was indicted; but having
refunded a part, he effected his escape.
With astonishing impudence he afterwards again set up a brewery in
Gray's Inn Lane; and after various frauds, he became a bankrupt in 1776.
Ever fruitful in resources, he set out for Germany, where he engaged in
some smuggling scheme, for which he was imprisoned; but he returned to
England, having managed to pocket three hundred pounds in the course of
his trip. A brewery in Lambeth was then again tried, but ineffectually;
and he was afterwards successively a begging-letter impostor and a
lottery office keeper; and then he assumed the trade by which he
qualified himself to become the subject of remark in the Newgate
Calendar. Having leagued himself with a number of adventurers whose
business consisted in making and selling forged notes, he entered into
their schemes; but, fearful of being himself employed in the dangerous
act of putting off the notes, in the year 1780, memorable for the riots
in London, he assumed the name of Brant, and engaged a plain, simple,
honest fellow, as a servant, whom he converted into the instrument of
passing his forged notes without detection. He advertised for this
servant, and conducted himself in a manner truly curious towards him.
The young man, having answered the advertisement, heard nothing relative
to it for about a week. One evening, however, just about dusk, a
coachman was heard inquiring for him, saying there was a gentleman over
the way in a coach who wanted to speak to him. On this the young fellow
was called, and went to the coach, when he was desired to step in; and
there he found an apparently old man, affecting the foreigner, seemingly
very much afflicted with the gout, as he was completely wrapped up in
flannel about the legs, and wearing a camlet surtout, buttoned over his
chin, close up to his mouth; a large black patch over his left eye; and
almost every part of his face so hid, that the young fellow could
scarcely discover a feature except his nose, his right eye, and a part
of that cheek. The young man's character was found to suit, and he was
engaged; but his surprise may easily be imagined, when on his next
seeing his employer, he found him a thin, genteel-looking young man.
The simplicity of the young man whom he had thus duped into his service
was such, that Price found no difficulty whatever in negotiating
through his means notes to the amount of about fifteen hundred pounds,
which were principally expended in the purchase of lottery-tickets and
shares; but the unfortunate wretch was eventually taken into custody,
and was left by his employer to suffer all the fears likely to arise in
his mind upon the contemplation of the supposed consequences of his
crime. His innocence was, however, at length proved, and he was set at
liberty, but not until he had suffered nearly twelve months'
imprisonment. His late master in the mean time had retired from public
life, and nothing more was heard of him until the year 1782, when,
having exhausted the proceeds of his former villanies, he was compelled
to come forth again to renew his depredations on the public. He began by
employing a lad named Power as the instrument of his minor proceedings,
but emboldened by success, through the medium of his disguises, he
succeeded occasionally in obtaining very large sums. The following
anecdote is related of the success with which he carried on his trade.
He had frequently been at the shop of a Mr. Roberts, grocer, in Oxford
Street, where he now and then bought a few articles, and took many
opportunities of showing his importance. Upon one occasion he called in
a hackney-coach, disguised as an old man, and bought some few articles:
a day or two afterwards he repeated his visit; and on a third day, when
he knew Mr. Roberts was not in the way, went again, with his face so
painted that he appeared to be diseased with the yellow-jaundice. The
shopman, to whom he enumerated his complaints, kindly informed him of a
prescription for that disorder, by which his father had been cured of
it. Price gladly accepted of the receipt, promising that if it
succeeded, he would call again, and handsomely reward him for his
civility: in conformity with which he entered the shop a few days
afterwards, apparently perfectly free from the complaint, and
acknowledged his great obligations to the shopman; after which he
expatiated freely on his affluent circumstances, the short time he had
to live, and the few relations he had to leave his property to, and made
him a present of a ten-pound bank-note. It will naturally be conceived
this was a forgery, but it had the desired effect with Price; for at the
same time he said he wanted cash for another, which was a fifty-pound
note. This the obliging and unsuspecting shopman got change for at an
opposite neighbour's. The next day, during Mr. Roberts's absence, he
called again, and entreated the lad to get small notes for five other
notes of fifty pounds each: the lad, however, telling him his master was
not at home, Price begged he would take them to his master's bankers',
and there get them changed. This request was immediately complied with.
The bankers, Messrs. Burchall and Co., complied with Mr. Roberts'
supposed request, immediately changed them, and small notes were that
day given to Price for them.
He practised his frauds with equal effect upon Mr. Spilsbury, the vender
of a celebrated quack-medicine, with whom he traded in the name of
Wilmot, and upon many others; and so great was his success, that in one
day he negotiated sixty 10_l._ notes, and besides, exchanged fourteen
50_l._ for seven 100_l._ notes of the Bank of England.
In his last attempt on the Bank, which ended in his detection, he
assumed the name of Palton, pretending he was an Irish linen factor, and
employed two young men to circulate his notes, whilst he, still greatly
disguised, kept back in obscurity.
By means of a pawnbroker, he was found out with great difficulty; and on
his seizure he solemnly declared his innocence, and before the
magistrate behaved with considerable insolence. His detection took place
on the 14th of January, 1786; and notwithstanding his disguises, he was
soon sworn to by more persons than one; and seeing no way to escape, he
pretended, to his wife in particular, great penitence. The Bank was
fully intent on his prosecution, and there appeared no doubt of his
dying by the hands of the executioner; but even this he managed to
avoid, for one evening he was found hanging against the post of his
door, in the apartment allotted him in Tothillfields' Bridewell. In this
situation he was discovered by the keeper of the prison, who cut him
down quite dead, and found in his bosom three letters; in one of which,
addressed to the directors of the Bank, he confessed everything relative
to the forgery, and the manner of circulating the notes; another,
addressed to his wife, was written in a most affecting style; and in the
third, directed to the keeper, he thanked him for the very humane
treatment he had experienced during his confinement.
A coroner's jury was summoned, as usual in such cases, and returned a
verdict of "self-murder;" in consequence of which his body was thrown
into the ground in Tothillfields, and a stake driven through it.
In a box belonging to Price were found, after his death, two artificial
noses, very curiously executed, in imitation of nature. These, it is
obvious, he occasionally wore as a part of the various disguises by
which he had been enabled so long to elude the hand of justice. The
counterfeit plates were found buried in a field near Tottenham-court
Road, the turf being replaced on the spot, and, with the rolling-press,
and other materials found at his lodgings, were ordered by Sir Sampson
Wright, the presiding magistrate, to be destroyed.
His wife, who had been confined with him as an accomplice, and by whom
he had a family of eight children, was ordered to be discharged
immediately after his burial.
HENRY STERNE, _alias_ GENTLEMAN HARRY.
CONVICTED OF STEALING THE DUKE OF BEAUFORT'S "GEORGE."
This offender was one of the class called "gentlemen pickpockets." Being
a fellow of good address, and of tolerable education, he managed by some
means to intrude himself into decent society, where he found it easy to
carry on his schemes of depredation.
He was indicted on the 12th of September, 1787, for robbing his Grace
the Duke of Beaufort of his "George," meaning the star of the order of
the garter, on the 4th of June previous, which was the King's birthday.
From the evidence of his grace, it appeared that he was quitting his
majesty's levee on the day in question, followed by his servants, his
"George" being pendent from his neck by the ribbon; when, on his
reaching the corner of St. James's-street, he found himself suddenly
surrounded by a great crowd of people, who pushed him about. He did not
at first understand the meaning of it, when presently a thought struck
him that the object was to rob him, and he found that his "George" was
gone. He called for his servants, who directly came up, and his grace
pointed out a man in black as the thief. He was searched, however, but
nothing found; and then the prisoner being seized, the ornament was
discovered in his pocket.
The prisoner denied the charge imputed to him, and hoped that the jury
would not suffer any reports which they had heard of his character to
operate to his prejudice; but he was found guilty, and sentenced to be
transported for seven years to Botany Bay.
SAMUEL BURT.
CONVICTED OF FORGERY.
Mr. Burt, previously to the occurrence for which he was tried and
executed, bore a most exemplary character. The particulars of the
forgery of which he was guilty do not appear to have come out on the
trial, when the prisoner pleaded guilty; but his object in its
commission, as well as in refusing to deny his guilt, may be collected
from the manner in which he addressed the Court on his being called up
for judgment.
He said, "My lord,--I am too sensible of the crime I have committed, and
for which I justly deserve to suffer, not to know that I have forfeited
my life, and I wish to resign it into the hands of Him who gave it. To
give my reasons for this would only satisfy an idle curiosity: no one
can feel a more sensible, heartfelt satisfaction in the hopes of shortly
passing into eternity, wherein, I trust, I shall meet with great
felicity. I have no desire to live; and as the jury and court in my
trial thought proper to recommend me to mercy, if his majesty should in
consequence thereof grant me a reprieve, I here vow in the face of
Heaven, that I will put an end to my own existence as soon as I can. It
is death that I wish for, because nothing but death can extricate me
from the troubles in which my follies have involved me."
Sentence was then passed in due form, but we do not find any entry of
its having been carried out; and it is therefore very likely that the
recommendation of the jury, alluded to by the prisoner, was attended to.
The last notice which is taken of the case in the books is in the
following terms:--"Samuel Burt, the unhappy youth who, under a
depression of mind, abhorring the guilt of suicide, committed a forgery
in order to suffer death by the law, was respited;" dated December,
1787.
From the observations made by the prisoner, it is pretty evident that he
was labouring under a species of insanity, by which he was persuaded
that he must suffer death. The following instances of a similar
description are of a character far more melancholy, inasmuch as that in
each the murder of a fellow-creature was the means adopted by the
unhappy maniac, for the offenders can be considered in no other light,
to secure his own death.
On the 4th of September, 1760, when North America was a British
province, Mr. Robert Scull and several gentlemen were playing at
billiards in Philadelphia, when Captain Bruluman, late of the Royal
American regiment, came into the room, and, without the smallest
provocation, levelled a loaded gun, which he had brought with him, and
shot Mr. Scull through the body just after he had struck his ball.
It afterwards appeared that this desperate man had been brought up a
silversmith; and that having entered the army, he became an officer in
the Royal American regiment, but was broke on his being detected in
counterfeiting or uttering base money. He then returned to Philadelphia,
and growing insupportable to himself, and yet unwilling to put an end to
his own life, he determined upon the commission of some crime, for which
he would certainly be hanged by the law.
Having formed this design, he loaded his gun with a brace of balls, and
asked his landlord to go shooting with him, intending to murder him
before his return; but the landlord, fortunately for himself, being
particularly engaged at home, escaped the danger. He then went out
alone, and on the way met a man whom he was about to kill; but
recollecting that there were no witnesses to prove him guilty, he
suffered the man to pass.
He next proceeded to the tavern, where he drank some liquor; and hearing
people playing at billiards in a room above that in which he sat, he
went up stairs, and entered into conversation with the players in
apparent good humour. In a little time he called the landlord, and
desired him to hang up the gun. Mr. Scull having struck his antagonist's
ball in one of the pockets, Bruluman said to him, "Sir, you are a good
marksman; now I'll show you a fine stroke." He immediately took down his
gun, levelled it, deliberately took aim at Mr. Scull (who imagined him
in jest), and shot both the balls through his body. He then went up to
the dying man, who was still sensible, and said to him, "Sir, I have no
malice or ill will against you; I never saw you before; but I was
determined to kill somebody that I might be hanged, and you happen to be
the man; and I am very sorry for your misfortune." Mr. Scull had just
time left in this world to send for his friends, and make his will. He
forgave his murderer, and if it could be done, desired he might be
pardoned; but Bruluman died on the gallows, exulting in his fate.
The same volume from which we make the above extract contains another
case of the like nature, and, if possible, more extraordinary. It
appears, however, that in this instance the judges of the unfortunate
offender treated him as was most proper--as a maniac. The scene of this
second murder is not mentioned.
It is stated that a youth of the name of David Williams, when about
fifteen years of age, was one day against his wish detained from school
by his stepfather, who greatly wanted his assistance on the farm. While
thus employed, a log rolled on one of his legs, which injured it to such
a degree that it became nearly useless; and by another accident he soon
after hurt the other limb, so that he was rendered a cripple before he
had attained the years of manhood.
At these misfortunes he continually repined; blamed his stepfather for
keeping him that day from school, whereby he received his first injury;
and, mortified at his appearance among his comrades, some of whom, he
said, ridiculed him, he became weary of the world, and determined to
terminate his misfortunes with his life.
For this end suicide and murder presented themselves. The first he
thought the most eligible; but then it brought to his mind the horrors
of appearing by his own violence before God, for which he feared he
should not be pardoned; and therefore he was induced to abandon that for
the latter, which he conceived would afford him a better excuse to the
Almighty. He familiarised himself with this act of desperation by
continually thinking of it; so that in time it became a pleasing
subject of contemplation.
The idea of the grief which it must occasion his mother at times almost
unbent his resolution; but then the idea of its proving a sweet revenge
on his stepfather bore down every other consideration. Thus determined,
the next step of this unhappy youth was to select a proper subject on
whom the deed should be committed. A grown person or a child was the
question. The former, he concluded, must be under sin and guilt;
therefore by sudden death and thus unprepared, his damnation might be
chargeable to him, and he be doubly guilty: the latter being innocent,
he might avoid that charge, and he therefore resolved upon murdering
some child.
Now the particular object for this horrid purpose was the next
consideration; but he confessed that, though he thought of it more than
six months, yet none occurred until within five minutes of his
committing his long-determined and bloody deed.
All the morning of the fatal day he said that he felt an unaccountable
and far stronger desire to commit murder than before;--to use his own
words, "something like hankering after fruit."
At this unfortunate moment he chanced to spy a little boy, named Ira,
the son of Mr. Lane, a neighbour, gathering plums; and finding the
parents absent, he determined on seizing the opportunity and subject. He
instantly took a gun, fired at, and slightly wounded the child in the
side of the abdomen. Finding his victim yet alive, he limped to him, led
him to the house, placed him upon a bed, and took a station at the door.
The poor devoted little Ira had yet strength left to get from the bed,
in order to see "whether his father was coming to cure him;" and
Williams answered that his father would come by-and-by, and bade him go
to bed again and lie still. Again the murderer listened for the dying
groan of the boy; but finding his work incomplete, (horrid to relate!)
he took an axe, went to the bed, looked upon the innocent child, and
while it held up its little hands for help, the monster struck it on the
head, and, by repeated blows, chopped it in pieces.
The wretched murderer was a youth of extraordinary mental talents for
his years until the fatal gloom overspread him. After the horrid deed
was done, he spoke of it with calmness, observing that, though he had
often considered the grief he should bring on his own mother, it never
occurred to him the distraction it must cause her who bore the murdered
child.
His whole intent was to get himself hanged; and he supposed that the
palliating circumstances under which the murder was committed would
induce the Almighty to forgive him.
Upon his trial he was deemed to be insane, and was treated as such.
THOMAS GORDON, THE YOUNGER.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
Mr. Gordon, the father of this wretched youth, was a surgeon and
apothecary in London, from whence he removed his family into
Northamptonshire not long before the fatal circumstance, which is about
to be described, happened.
Mr. Gordon continued to practise in the country, and soon became envied
and disliked from his being a stranger; and the consequence was, that
frequent quarrels took place. At length a justice's warrant was obtained
against the father on a pretended charge of assault, and the constable
went to Mr. Gordon's house in order to apprehend him; but the wife and
son told the officer he was not at home. The constable, however, knew
that he was in the house and went away, but soon returned with some
neighbours, and with them was about to make a forcible entry, when the
mother and son opposed them, the latter being armed with a gun. The
populace threw stones at the windows, when the mother, in an unlucky
moment, bade her son fire: he did so, and killed the constable on the
spot.
Both mother and son were tried, and found guilty of the murder; but
Baron Thompson, who presided on the bench, observing that the mother was
indicted as an accessory before the fact, and that the evidence proved
that she was a principal, he had doubts whether she was properly
convicted, and therefore reserved the case for the opinion of the twelve
judges, who, upon solemn argument, confirmed the sentence against the
son, but at the same time adjudged the indictment against the mother to
be bad; and the poor youth received sentence of death. He was three
times reprieved; from which he hoped, and the world flattered him with
an opinion, that his pardon would ultimately follow; but an order at
length came for his execution, and although he was in a state of
insanity at the time, brought on by the cruel suspense in which he had
been kept as to his fate, he was executed at Northampton on the 17th of
August, 1789, aged only nineteen years.
THOMAS PHIPPS, ESQ. THE ELDER, AND THOMAS PHIPPS, THE YOUNGER.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
These malefactors were father and son; and their final exit from this
life was attended by circumstances of the most heart-rending and
melancholy description. The father was a man of good property, and lived
on his own estate at Llwyney Mapsis, in Shropshire; and he and his son
were indicted for uttering a note of hand for twenty pounds, purporting
to be that of Mr. Richard Coleman of Oswestry, knowing the same to have
been forged.
It was proved on their trial that Mr. Coleman never had had any
transactions with Mr. Phipps that required the signing of any note
whatever; that about the Christmas before, Mr. Coleman was served with a
copy of a writ at the suit of Mr. Phipps the elder, which action Mr.
Coleman defended, and for want of further proceedings on the part of the
plaintiff, a _non pros._ was signed, with two pounds three shillings
costs of suit against Phipps. Upon this an affidavit was drawn up and
sworn by Phipps the elder, Phipps the younger, and William Thomas, their
clerk, for the purpose of moving the Court of Exchequer to set aside the
judgment of _non pros._ and therein they swore that the cause of action
was a note of the said Coleman's for twenty pounds, which was given as
satisfaction for a trespass by him committed in carrying some hay off
the land of one of Mr. Phipps the elder's tenants.
The Court thereupon granted a rule to show cause why the judgment
should not be set aside; but Mr. Coleman insisting that the note was a
forgery, the present prosecution was instituted against the father, son,
and Thomas.
After a full hearing at the assizes at Shrewsbury, the father and son
were pronounced "Guilty of uttering and publishing the note, knowing it
to be forged;" and William Thomas was found "Not Guilty."
Though convicted on the fullest evidence, the unhappy men, until the
morning of their execution, persisted in their innocence; but when about
to leave the jail, young Phipps made the following confession: "It was I
alone who committed the forgery: my father is entirely innocent, and was
ignorant of the note being forged when he published it."
They were taken in a mourning-coach to the place of execution,
accompanied by a clergyman and a friend who attended them daily after
their condemnation.
On their way to the fatal tree the father said to the son, "Tommy, thou
hast brought me to this shameful end, but I freely forgive thee;" to
which the son made no reply. It being remarkably wet weather, their
devotions were chiefly performed in the coach. When the awful moment
arrived, Mr. Phipps said to his son, "You have brought me hither; do you
lead the way!" which the youth immediately did, and in the most composed
manner ascended the ladder to a temporary scaffold erected for the
purpose of their execution, followed by his father.
When their devotions were finished, and the halters tied to the gallows,
this most wretched father and son embraced each other, and in a few
moments the scaffold fell, and they were hand-in-hand launched into
eternity, September the 5th 1789, amid a vast concourse of pitying
spectators.
The father was forty-eight, and the son just twenty years of age.
RENWICK WILLIAMS, COMMONLY CALLED "THE MONSTER."
IMPRISONED FOR A BRUTAL AND WANTON ASSAULT ON A FEMALE.
The mind is utterly at a loss to conceive any reason which could urge
this unnatural brute to the commission of the crimes which upon his
trial were distinctly proved against him. The offence of which he was
found guilty was that of making a most wanton and unmanly attack upon an
unprotected female, upon whom he inflicted a very severe wound, no
provocation whatever having been offered to him. For a considerable time
before the apprehension of this offender, a report was very generally
prevalent that many young and respectable females had been privately and
suddenly wounded in various parts of their person while walking through
the streets, in some cases in open day, by a villain, who invariably
succeeded in making his escape. Sometimes it was reported that the wound
was given at a time when the man approached the lady for the purpose of
presenting a nosegay to her; and it was said that, holding the flowers
to her nose, he would stab her in the face with a sharp instrument which
was concealed among their stems; while at others it was said that the
wound was given in the thigh, behind, or in private parts of the person,
so that occasionally the most serious injury was inflicted; and an
almost universal terror prevailed.
At length a man named Renwick Williams was apprehended, who was
distinctly sworn to by a Miss Porter, upon whom he had inflicted a
wound; and at the sessions held on the 18th of July 1790, he was put on
his trial at the Old Bailey for the offence alleged against him.
The indictment charged that the prisoner, on the 18th of January, with
force and arms, in the parish of St. James, on the King's highway upon
Anne Porter did make an assault; and that he did unlawfully, wilfully,
and maliciously inflict upon her a certain wound, &c. against the peace.
A second count charged the said Renwick Williams, that on the same day
and year he did unlawfully, wilfully, and maliciously tear, spoil, cut,
and deface the garments and clothes--to wit, the cloak, gown, petticoat,
and shift of the said Anne Porter, contrary to the statute, and against
the peace, &c.
Miss Anne Porter deposed that she had been at St. James's to see the
ball on the night of the 18th of January 1790, accompanied by her
sister, Miss Sarah Porter, and another lady; that her father had
appointed to meet them at twelve o'clock, the hour the ball generally
breaks up; but that it ended at eleven, and she was therefore under the
necessity either of staying where she was, until her father came, or of
returning home at that time. Her father, she said, lived in St.
James's-street, and kept a tavern and a cold bath there; and as it was
not far, she agreed to go home with her party. As they proceeded up St.
James's-street her sister appeared much agitated, and called to her to
hasten home, which she and her company accordingly did. Her sister was
the first to reach the hall-door, and as the witness turned the corner
of the rails she received a blow on the right hip. She turned round and
saw the prisoner stoop down: she had seen him before several times, on
each of which he had followed close behind her, and used language so
gross that the Court did not press on her to relate the particulars.
He did not immediately run away when he struck her, but looked on her
face, and she thus had a perfect opportunity of observing him. She had
no doubt, she said, of the prisoner being the man that wounded her. She
supposed that the wound was inflicted with a sharp instrument, because
her clothes were cut and she was wounded through them. The prisoner at
that time escaped; but on the 13th of June, as she was walking in St.
James's Park with her mother and two sisters, and a Mr. Coleman, she saw
him again, and being agitated, her alarm was remarked, and the prisoner
was eventually secured upon her pointing him out.
The evidence of Miss Sarah Porter, the sister of the last witness, was
to the same effect. She stated that she was well acquainted with the
prisoner's person, and that he had followed her, and talked to her in
language the most shocking and obscene. She had seen him four or five
different times. On that night when her sister was cut, she saw him
standing near the bottom of St. James's-street, and spying her, he
exclaimed, "O ho! are you there!" and immediately struck her a violent
blow on the side of the head. She then, as well as she was able, being
almost stunned, called to her sister to make haste, adding, "Don't you
see the wretch behind us?" Upon coming to their own door, the prisoner
rushed between them, and about the time he struck her sister, he also
rent the witness's gown.
It was proved further, that the prisoner, on his being pointed out by
Miss Porter, was followed by Mr. Coleman as far as South Molton-street,
where he entered a house, but being followed, his address was demanded.
He for some time declined complying with the request which was made, but
eventually said that he lived at No. 52, Jermyn-street. Mr. Coleman,
however, felt that he ought not to permit him to escape, and he
therefore compelled him to accompany him to Miss Porter's house. He at
first objected to doing so, on the ground of its being late, but force
being used, he was obliged to obey. On his arrival, Miss Anne and Miss
Sarah Porter fainted away, exclaiming, "Oh, my God! that is the wretch!"
Upon which the prisoner said, "The young ladies' conduct is very
strange. They don't take me for the monster who is advertised?" He was
assured, however, that he was known to be that person; and he was then
conveyed in custody before the magistrates, by whom he was committed for
trial. It was also proved that the wound which had been inflicted on
Miss Porter was of a very serious description. It was at the beginning,
and for two or three inches, only skin deep, but then it suddenly sunk
to the depth of four inches, gradually becoming more shallow towards the
end. Its length from the hip downwards was nine or ten inches.
The prisoner, being called upon for his defence, begged the indulgence
of the Court, in supplying the deficiency of his memory upon what he
wished to state from a written paper. He accordingly read as follows:--
"He stood," he said, "an object equally demanding the attention and
compassion of the Court. That, conscious of his innocence, he was ready
to admit the justice of whatever sufferings he had hitherto undergone,
arising from suspicion. He had the greatest confidence in the justice
and liberality of an English jury; and hoped they would not suffer his
fate to be decided by the popular prejudice raised against him. The hope
of proving his innocence had hitherto sustained him.
"He professed himself the warm friend and admirer of that sex whose
cause was now asserted; and concluded with solemnly declaring that the
whole prosecution was founded on a dreadful mistake, which he had no
doubt the evidence he was about to call would clear up to the
satisfaction of the Court."
He then called two witnesses, who gave him a good character; and who
stated that he was at work for his master, Mr. Mitchell, an artificial
flower maker, in Dover-street, Piccadilly, up to the hour of one o'clock
on the night in question.
Mr. Justice Buller summed up the case to the jury. Having commented upon
the evidence which had been produced, he said that he should reserve the
case for the opinion of the twelve judges, for several reasons: first,
because this was completely and perfectly a new case in itself; and
secondly, because this was the first indictment of the kind that was
ever tried. Therefore, although he himself entertained but little doubt
upon the first point, yet, as the case was new, it would be right to
have a solemn decision upon it. Upon the second point he owned that he
entertained some doubts. This indictment was certainly the first of the
kind that was ever drawn in this kingdom. It was founded upon the
statute of the 6th George I. Upon this statute it must be proved that it
was the intent of the party accused, not only to wound the body, but
also cut, tear, and spoil the garment:--one part of this charge was
quite clear, namely, that Miss Porter was wounded, and her clothes torn.
The first question, therefore, for the consideration of the jury would
be, whether this was done wilfully, and with intent to spoil the
garment, as well as to wound the body. That was a fact for the jury to
decide; and if they agreed upon this, then, whether the prisoner was the
man who did it. It should be observed, that here there was a wound
given, with an instrument that was not calculated solely for the purpose
of affecting the body, such, for instance, as piercing or stabbing, by
making a hole; but here was an actual cutting, and the wound was of a
very considerable length, and so was the rent in the clothes. It was for
the jury to decide whether, as both body and clothes were cut, he who
intended the end did not also intend the means. He left it to the jury
to say, upon the whole case, whether the prisoner was guilty or
innocent.
The jury immediately, without hesitation, found the prisoner guilty.
Mr. Justice Buller then ordered the judgment in this case to be
arrested, and the recognizances of the persons bound to prosecute to be
respited until the December sessions.
At the commencement of the sessions at the Old Bailey, on the 10th of
December 1790, Judge Ashurst addressed the prisoner nearly in the
following terms:--"You have been capitally convicted, under the statute
6 George I., of maliciously tearing, cutting, spoiling, and defacing the
garments of Anne Porter, on the 18th of January last. Judgment has been
arrested on two points,--one that the indictment is informal, the other
that the statute does not reach the crime. Upon solemn consideration,
the judges are of opinion that both the objections are well founded:
but, although you are discharged from this indictment, yet you are
within the purview of the common law. You are therefore to be remanded
to be tried for a misdemeanor."
He was accordingly, on the 13th of the same month, tried at Hicks's Hall
for the misdemeanor, in making an assault on Miss Anne Porter.
The trial lasted sixteen hours: there were three counts in the
indictment; viz. for assaulting with intent to kill, for assaulting and
wounding, and for a common assault.
The same witnesses were then called in support of the charge as appeared
on the trial at the Old Bailey; and they gave very clear, correct, and
circumstantial evidence, positively swearing to the person of the
prisoner.
The prisoner produced two witnesses, Miss Amet and Mr. Mitchell, who
attempted to prove an _alibi_, and the credit of their testimony was not
impeached by any contradiction. The question therefore was, to which the
jury would give credit; for the evidence on both sides was equally fair
and unexceptionable, and the prisoner was acquitted.
The prisoner was again put to the bar at ten o'clock the next morning,
and tried on the remaining indictments, on three of which he was found
guilty; when the Court sentenced him to two years' imprisonment in
Newgate for each, and at the expiration of the time to find security for
his good behaviour, himself in two hundred pounds, and two sureties in
one hundred pounds each.
EDWARD LOWE AND WILLIAM JOBBINS.
EXECUTED FOR ARSON.
These prisoners were indicted at the Old Bailey sessions for feloniously
setting fire to the house of Francis Gilding, in Aldersgate-street, on
the 16th of May 1790.
From the evidence of the apprentice of Mr. Gilding, who was an
accomplice in the wicked deed, it appeared that he was acquainted with
the two prisoners, who were persons of bad character; and that it was
determined among them that Mr. Gilding's house, which was the Red Lion
Inn, should be set on fire, in order that they might plunder it.
Accordingly at about twelve o'clock on the night of Saturday, 16th May,
they met in the inn-yard, and Lowe got up into the hay-loft, and placing
some combustibles there, set them alight with a pipe, which he was
smoking. The fire soon blazed out, and the prisoners were very active in
carrying off the goods, which they took away in a cart. The witness was
in the act of carrying away a chest of drawers when he was stopped by
Lucie, a constable, upon whose evidence he was convicted. He
subsequently, however, on condition of his being pardoned, consented to
give evidence against the prisoners. This testimony being confirmed by
that of other witnesses, the jury returned a verdict of guilty against
the prisoners, and on the 2nd November they were brought up to receive
judgment. The learned Recorder then addressed them in the following
terms: "I hardly know how to find words to express the abhorrence that I
feel, or that the public entertains, of the crime of which you stand
convicted.--The setting fire to houses in the dead of night, for the
purpose of plunder, at the risk of the lives of the inhabitants of a
great city, is a crime not yet to be met with upon the records of
villany that have been brought forward in this court. As the crime is
singular, so the punishment must be marked: I take it it will be so
marked, and hope the example will be such, that, if there should be left
any persons of the same wicked intentions, they will take example from
your fate. As your crime is singular and novel, I hope it will be the
only one brought into this court of the same description. You therefore
must prepare to die, and consider yourselves as men without hope in this
world.--And, give me leave to assure you, that it is my decided opinion
that, for an offence so very atrocious as yours, you can never expect
salvation in the world to come, unless you will make some reparation to
your injured country, and to God, whom you have offended, by a sincere
confession of all the offences of which you have been guilty, and by a
disclosure of the names of all persons who either have engaged, or are
about to engage in crimes so detestable as that of which you stand
convicted;--nothing therefore remains, but that I should pray to
Almighty God, and it is now my earnest prayer to Him, that you may all
obtain forgiveness and remission of your sins."
On the morning of the 20th of November these incendiaries were brought
out of Newgate, and placed on a high seat, which had been fixed in the
cart to render them more conspicuous to the spectators. They were then
conveyed, attended by the Sheriffs and other City officers, to
Aldersgate-street, where a temporary gallows was erected opposite the
spot where stood the house of Mr. Gilding, to which they had set fire.
They arrived at the fatal tree about a quarter before nine o'clock,
when Mr. Villette, the Ordinary, went into the cart, and prayed with
them for about twenty minutes, after which they were turned off. They
both confessed to Mr. Villette the facts for which they had so justly
suffered.
Jobbins had been educated at St. Paul's school, was bred a surgeon, and
was only nineteen years of age when he suffered. Lowe was about
twenty-three years of age.
A boy named Mead was on the 31st August in the ensuing year executed for
a similar offence in firing the house of his master, Mr. Walter
Cavardine, a publican, in Red Lion-street.
JOSEPH WOOD AND THOMAS UNDERWOOD,
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
The whole parties in this case may be literally called children, the
malefactors being but fourteen years of age each; and the prosecutor no
more than twelve!
Though of this tender age, yet were they convicted as old and daring
depredators. So often had they already been arraigned at that bar, where
they were condemned, that the judge declared, notwithstanding their
appearance, (they were short, dirty, ill-visaged boys,) it was
necessary, for the public safety, to cut them off, in order that other
boys might learn, that, inured to wickedness, their tender age would not
save them from an ignominious fate.
The crime for which they suffered was committed with every circumstance
of barbarity. They forcibly took away a bundle, containing a jacket,
shirt, and waistcoat, from a little boy, and then fell upon him, and
would probably have murdered him, had they not been secured. They had
long belonged to a most desperate gang of pickpockets and footpads; but
so hardened and obstinate were they, that they would not impeach their
companions, though the hopes of mercy were held out to them, on making a
confession, so that the villains might have been apprehended.
They were executed at Newgate, July 6th, 1791, apparently insensible of
their dreadful situation.
WILLIAM GADESBY,
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
In recording the case of this culprit, a Scotch newspaper says, "He was
one of the most notorious villains that has figured in the line of
roguery in this country for many years; and though only twenty-eight
years of age, his criminal exploits appear, both in variety and number,
to equal, if not to exceed, the achievements of the most dextrous and
grey-headed offender."
As this fellow lived, so he determined to die--with notoriety.
He was brought to the gallows at Edinburgh, February the 20th, 1791,
dressed in a suit of white cloth, trimmed with black. The awful
ceremony, the dreadful apparatus of death, the surrounding multitude of
spectators, appeared not to shake his frame, nor to agitate his mind. He
mounted the platform of death with a firm step, and stood with great
composure till the apparatus was adjusted; and then, in a collected
manner, and in an audible voice, gave a brief account of his life.
He said that the first robbery he committed was in a stationer's shop,
where he purloined a pocket-book. The success of this childish theft
encouraged him to commit others: and in a short time he gave himself
wholly up to thieving, never letting an opportunity slip of possessing
himself of money or goods, by fraud or force, until the day he was
committed to jail. He said that he often escaped in hackney-chairs, and
advised the officer on guard at the Castle to search all such vehicles.
He declared most solemnly that three miserable men, who had been
executed two years before at the place where he then stood, of the names
of Falconer, Bruce, and Dick, were innocent, for that he himself had
committed the robberies for which they were condemned!
With exultation he continued to say--that the sums he had acquired by
thieving and cheating did not amount to less than two thousand pounds,
besides the fortune of an unhappy woman whom he seduced and ruined. It
was high time to stop the monster's speech, and the platform was
therefore dropped, while yet he was exulting in his sins!
"Scotland," says the paper from which we extract this unparalleled case,
"seems to be in an improving state: the following ingenious contrivance
was lately practised at Glasgow:--While a merchant in King-street was
counting some money and bank-notes on a counter, a staff or small rod,
overlaid with birdlime, was suddenly thrust in at the door, which having
touched the notes, two of them were thereby carried off; and, before the
merchant could pursue, the ingenious actor had made his escape."
THE BIRMINGHAM RIOTS.
These riots were of a nature very similar to those which broke out in
London in the year 1780. The outbreak appears to have been occasioned by
no immediate cause, but rather by a general feeling of discontent which
pervaded the minds of the people in this great manufacturing town, aided
by the celebration of the anniversary of the French Revolution, and a
seditious hand-bill, which had been previously circulated.
The riot was commenced by an attack being made upon a tavern, in
Temple-lane, in which eighty or ninety persons had sat down to a dinner
provided on Thursday, the 14th July 1791, in order to celebrate the
event referred to, when, notwithstanding the personal interference of
the magistrates, the windows in front of the house were demolished, and
many of the company were assaulted. The popular anger being thus
excited, the mob proceeded to destroy Dr. Priestley's meeting-house, and
the old meeting-house, the first of which they set on fire, while they
contented themselves with burning the furniture of the latter in the
burial-ground. Dr. Priestley's house at Fair Hill, together with his
valuable collection of apparatus for philosophical experiments, was also
destroyed, and the mob then dispersed for the night. On the next
morning, however, they again assembled, and being unopposed by any civil
or military force, they proceeded to the commission of new outrages.
Many were armed with bludgeons and weapons of offence, and shouting
"Church and King," they attacked the houses of all who were obnoxious
to them, or opposed to the principles which they professed. The mansion
of Mr. John Ryland, at Easy Hill, was the first object to which they
directed their fury, but many of them having got into the cellars, got
so drunk with the wine which they found there, as to be unable to effect
their escape, while their associates without, unmindful of their safety,
set fire to the house, and they were buried beneath its ruins.
Bordesley Hall, the residence of John Taylor, Esq., shared a similar
fate, the mob refusing to listen to any proposition to induce them to
retire; and on the same night the house of Mr. Hutton in the town was
completely stripped. A number of special constables were in the mean
time sworn in, and attacked the mob with some determination; but being
far inferior in numbers, and quite undisciplined, they were compelled to
retire. Saturday only dawned to exhibit fresh ravages; Mr. Hutton's
house at Washwood Heath, three miles from the town, Mr. Humphery's
mansion at Spark Brook, Mr. W. Russell's house at Shewell Green, Mr. T.
Hawkes's house at Moseley Wake Green, and Moseley Hall, the seat of the
Dowager Countess of Carhampton, were in turn attacked, and were all in
flames at the same time. Business was brought to a stand, and no
military force arriving, the mob continued their acts of lawless
atrocity undisturbed. At night many of them levied contributions from
the inhabitants of the town of meat and money, and on the following day
they pursued the same course in the outskirts in reference to all
persons they met. The Sabbath even did not restrain them in their
diabolical proceedings, for on that day they burned two dissenting
meeting-houses, and the ministers' dwellings, situated at about six
miles from Birmingham.
At night, soon after ten o'clock, three troops of the 15th Light
Dragoons arrived amid the acclamations of the inhabitants, whose hopes
and fears had been depicted through the day in every countenance, as
reports of the near approach of the soldiery were spread and
contradicted. The town was immediately illuminated, and before morning
every thing was tolerably quiet; but the rioters were still continuing
their depredations in the country. They exhausted the cellars at each
place, and received various sums of money to prevent their proceeding to
further violence.
They were in great force at the time the troops arrived, of which they
no sooner had intimation than they began to slink off in small parties;
and the peasantry, taking courage, put the rest to flight in various
directions.
On Monday the town appeared in perfect security, but as much crowded as
during the three preceding days, in viewing the military; the mob
keeping at such a distance as to render all accounts of them dubious; at
one time being said to be at Alcester, the next hour at Bromsgrove, &c.
On Tuesday there were flying rumours of depredations near Hagley, Hales
Owen, &c.; and in the evening certain information was received that a
party of rioters were then attacking Mr. Male's, of Belle Vue. A few of
the Light Dragoons immediately went to his assistance; but the rioters
had been previously overpowered by a body of people in that
neighbourhood, and ten of them were confined at Hales Owen.
On Wednesday morning the country round, for ten miles, was scoured by
the light horse, but not one rioter was to be met with, and all the
manufactories were at work, as if no interruption had taken place. Three
troops of the 11th Light Dragoons marched in this morning, and more
soldiers soon after making their appearance, the whole neighbourhood
was soon restored to tranquillity.
At the ensuing assizes held at Warwick on the 22d August, a great number
of the persons concerned in these outrages were put upon their trial,
before Mr. Baron Perryn. They were indicted under the Black Act, and
although in several cases the jury appear to have acted in a manner
somewhat extraordinary, in declaring the prisoners not guilty, many were
convicted and received sentence of death. Two of them, however, were
pardoned, but the remainder expiated their offences on the scaffold.
THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY.
The case of the mutineers of the Bounty has always attracted
considerable attention. The Bounty was an armed vessel, commanded by
Capt. Bligh, which quitted England in the autumn of 1789, for the
purpose of making discoveries, and of trading among the Southern
Islands; and having visited the Friendly and the Otaheitan Islands in
the South Pacific Ocean, in the month of May 1790, she set sail on her
way back to England. On the 27th of that month they lost sight of land;
and up to that time there had been nothing in the conduct of the crew or
petty officers which could induce a supposition that any disorder was
likely to take place. The mid watch was duly relieved; but at daybreak
on the following morning the cabin of the captain was forcibly entered
by the officer of the watch, Fletcher Christian, who held the rank of
master's mate, and who had previously been considered a good and
faithful seaman, aided by three others, who dragged their commander on
deck, threatening instant death if he dared to speak. The captain
exerted all his eloquence to bring back the mutineers to their duty, but
his exertions were of no avail, and he soon afterwards found the
peaceful part of the crew and the officers brought upon deck and
pinioned. The mutineers told them that they need hope for no escape by
employing violence, for that all the muskets were charged; and they
corroborated their assertions by exhibiting an armed body of their own
number with muskets and fixed bayonets. The captain at once perceived
that he was in the power of his men; and his doubts as to his fate were
speedily put an end to by his seeing the long-boat lowered over the
side, which he and his fellows, to the number of eighteen, were
commanded to enter, no other nourishment being afforded them but about
one hundred and forty pounds of bread, thirty pounds of meat, a gallon
and a half of rum, an equal quantity of wine, and a few gallons of
water. A compass and quadrant were seized by the captain as his
unfortunate companions were entering the boat; and as soon as he had
taken his place, the mutineers gave three cheers, and stood away, as
they said, for Otaheite.
Captain Bligh on taking muster of the remains of his crew left to him,
found that he had in his boat the boatswain, the carpenter, the gunner,
the surgeon's-mate, two midshipmen, and one master's-mate, with Mr.
Nelson the botanist, and a few inferior officers. After a short
consultation, it was deemed expedient to put back to the Friendly
Islands; and having reached the coast of one of them, they landed, in
hopes of improving their stock of provisions. For several days they
continued unmolested; but at length, on the 30th of April, they were
attacked by the natives with such violence
[Illustration: _The Mutiny of the Bounty._
_p. 329_]
that one man was killed, and several wounded. They were, therefore,
compelled immediately to sheer off; and it became now the subject of
inquiry and deliberation as to what should be their next place of
destination. Otaheite was proposed, as it was supposed that the natives
would be friendly to them; but the apprehension of falling in with the
Bounty determined them against this course; and with one assent they
made up their minds to shape their course for Timor, a settlement
belonging to the Dutch.
To effect this enterprise they were compelled to calculate the distance
with a view to the apportionment of their provisions; and having
discovered that it was near four thousand miles, they agreed that their
rations should not exceed an ounce of bread and a gill of water a day
for each man. Upon this scanty allowance they subsisted without any
other nourishment until the 6th of June, when they made the coast of New
Holland, and collected a few shell-fish; and with this small relief they
held on their way to Timor, which they reached on the 12th, after being
forty-six days in a crazy open boat, so confined in its dimensions as to
prevent any of them lying down for repose, and without the least awning
to protect them from the rain, which fell almost incessantly for forty
days; a heavy sea and squally weather augmenting their misery during a
considerable part of the time.
On their reaching Timor, they received every assistance from the
governor; and having remained until the 20th of August to recruit their
strength, they procured a vessel, in which they took their passage to
Batavia. They reached that port on the 2nd of October, and from thence
they immediately embarked for the Cape of Good Hope. Captain Bligh
quitted the Cape in the month of December, and having reached England,
he communicated the particulars of the mutiny to the Admiralty, and H.
M. S. the Pandora was immediately despatched in search of the mutineers.
It was not until the 25th of April 1792, that despatches were received
from Captain Edwards, stating that on the Pandora appearing off
Otaheite, two men swam from the shore, and solicited to be taken on
board. They proved to be two of the Bounty's mutineers, and gave
intelligence where fourteen of their companions were concealed on the
island. A part of the Pandora's crew were sent in search of them; and
after some resistance they were taken and brought prisoners on board.
It then turned out that Christian had taken upon himself the command of
the Bounty immediately on the captain's having quitted her, and that his
crew consisted of twenty-five men. When the Pandora arrived, Christian,
with the other nine mutineers, had previously sailed in the Bounty to
some remote island, and every exertion to discover their retreat proved
ineffectual. On her return home, the Pandora struck upon a reef of rocks
in Endeavour Straits. Her crew escaped from their perilous situation to
an island in the Straits, except thirty-three men, and three of the
Bounty's people, who perished by the boat oversetting. Captain Edwards
was reduced to the necessity of sending one of his officers and some
seamen in a small boat to Timor, which they were fourteen days in
reaching, and where a vessel was procured, which proceeded to the
assistance of the remainder of the crew.
So much had the mutineers of the Bounty conformed to the custom and
manners of Otaheite, that when two men of Christian's crew swam off to
the Pandora, they were so tattooed, and exhibited so many other
characteristic stains, that on being first received on board, the
Pandora's people took them for natives of the island. The names of the
above metamorphosed mutineers were, Peter Heywood, a midshipman, and
Joseph Coleman, the armourer; the latter of whom, Captain Bligh
observes, "was detained by Christian contrary to his inclination."
On the 12th of September a court-martial commenced on board the Duke, in
Portsmouth harbour, on Joseph Coleman, Charles Norman, Thomas
Mackintosh, Peter Heywood, Isaac Morris, John Millward, William
Muspratt, Thomas Birkett, Thomas Ellison, and Michael Burn. The evidence
for the prosecution closed on Friday night, the 14th, and the Court
indulged the prisoners till Monday to give in their defence; and on
Tuesday took the whole into their consideration, when they were pleased
to pass sentence of death on Heywood, Morris, Millward, Muspratt,
Birkett, and Ellison, the two first of whom the Court recommended to
mercy. Coleman, Norman, Mackintosh, and Burn were acquitted, and
discharged.
On the 29th of October, Millward, Birkett, and Ellison, were executed on
board the Brunswick: Heywood and Morris were pardoned, in compliance
with the recommendation of the Court.
NATHANIEL LILLEY, JAMES MARTIN, MARY BRIANT, WILLIAM ALLEN, AND JOHN
BUTCHER.
CONVICTED OF RETURNING FROM TRANSPORTATION.
The offence with which these prisoners stood charged was that of
returning from transportation at a period earlier than that to which by
their sentences they were required to remain in the penal settlement to
which they had been sent.
Their trial took place on the 8th of July 1792, and the following facts
were proved. It appeared that the prisoners had all been tried in
England, and sentenced to undergo various terms of transportation, and
in pursuance of their sentence were sent to Botany Bay. The small
settlement which then existed would be hardly recognised in the
flourishing colony which, through the employment of English wealth and
enterprise, now rears its head upon the shores of New Holland; and it is
not surprising that these unhappy persons should have been anxious to
escape from a place where slavery and misery alone awaited them. For
this purpose they formed a species of society or club among themselves,
and having collected together what money they possessed, they entrusted
one of their number, named Briant, the husband of the prisoner Mary
Briant, to apply to Captain Schmidt, the commander of a Dutch vessel,
who had recently before brought a cargo of provisions to the colony, to
induce him to sell them one of his boats, a sail, a quadrant, and the
necessary quantity of provisions for the voyage which they intended to
make. The enterprise was dangerous to both parties, for it was a felony
to aid the escape of convicts; but the Dutchman tempted by the bribe,
which was considerable, let them have an old six-oared boat, with a
lug-sail, and about 100 lbs. of rice, and 14 lbs. of pork, with which,
together with about 200 lbs. of flour, which they purchased of a baker
in the colony, they determined to set sail on their expedition. Having
got all their provisions on board, they started on the night of the 28th
March 1791; the party consisting of Briant and his wife and two
children, of the ages of one and three years, the three male prisoners,
and also Samuel Bird, James Cox, and William Martin; the point of their
destination being Timor, which by the nearest run is distant about 1300
miles from the place of their embarkation.
They were forced to keep along the coast, as much as they could, for the
convenience of procuring supplies of fresh water; and on these
occasions, and when the weather was extremely tempestuous, they would
sometimes sleep on shore, hauling their boat on the land. The savage
natives, wherever they put on shore, came down in numbers to murder
them; and they now found two old muskets, and a small quantity of powder
which Captain Schmidt had given them, particularly serviceable in firing
over the heads of these multitudes, on which they ran off with great
precipitation; but they were always forced to keep a strict watch. In
lat. 26. 27. they discovered a small uninhabited island, where were
plenty of turtles, which proved a great relief to them; but they were
very near being lost in landing. On this island they dried as much
turtle as they could carry, which lasted them ten days.
At length, after suffering almost innumerable hardships and dangers,
they landed at Cupang, on the island of Timor, a Dutch settlement, on
6th June 1791, having sailed considerably more than five thousand miles,
and been ten weeks all but one day in performing this voyage. At Cupang
they informed the governor that they had belonged to an English ship,
which was wrecked on her passage to New South Wales, and he treated them
with great humanity; but at length overhearing a conversation among
them, he discovered that they were convicts, who had escaped from the
colony in New South Wales.
On the 29th of August 1791, the Pandora, of twenty guns, Captain
Edwards, was wrecked on a reef of rocks near New South Wales. The
captain, and those of the crew who were saved, got to Cupang in their
boats; when the governor gave the captain an account of the eleven
persons he had there, and of the conversation he had overheard.
The captain took them with him to Batavia, where William Briant and his
eldest child died. The rest were put on board a Dutch ship, in which
Captain Edwards sailed with them, for the Cape of Good Hope. On their
passage to the Cape, James Cox fell overboard and was drowned, and
Samuel Bird and William Martin died. At the Cape, Captain Edwards
delivered the survivors to Captain Parker, of the Gorgon, and they
sailed with him for England; and in their passage home, the younger
child of Mary Briant died.
On their trials the prisoners described the hardships which they had
undergone in the most piteous manner; and the Court, in consideration of
their sufferings, ordered them to remain on their former sentence, until
they should be discharged by the course of law.
THE REV. RICHARD BURGH, JOHN CUMMINGS, THOMAS TOWNLEY M'CAN, ESQRS.,
JAMES DAVIS, AND JOHN BOURNE.
CONVICTED OF A CONSPIRACY TO BURN THE KING'S BENCH PRISON.
The prisoner Burgh, who is first named in this case, was the private
chaplain, and a relation to the speaker of the Irish House of Commons;
the other prisoners were persons who were entitled to be ranked as
gentlemen, and it appears that they were all confined in the King's
Bench Prison for debt.
On the trial of the conspirators, the Attorney-general said he flattered
himself it would be found that he had done no more than his duty in
bringing the several defendants before the Court. The offence with which
they were charged was of the utmost importance to the peace and safety
of the capital; for it not only had for its object the demolition of the
King's Bench Prison, but involved the burning of other houses,
bloodshed, and murder. He lamented that five persons, all of education
and respectable families, should, by their folly and imprudence, to call
it by the softest name, bring themselves into such an unfortunate
situation; one was a reverend divine, another an officer in the army,
another had been in the profession of the law, and the others were of
respectable parents, and, as he understood, set out in the world with
fair prospects of being honourable and useful members of the community.
The Attorney-general further said, that this case was pregnant with the
most alarming circumstances, which would be better detailed by the
witnesses than described by him.
Edward Webb was then examined, and he said he knew all the prisoners; he
was introduced into a society, called "The Convivials," held in a room
in the King's Bench Prison, of which the prisoners were members. M'Can
expressed himself very freely upon the subject of Lord Rawdon's bill,
then pending, respecting insolvent debtors, and said if that bill did
not pass into a law, he and others were determined to do something to
liberate themselves, and that there was a scheme in agitation for that
purpose, but that the parties were sworn to secrecy, and therefore he
could not divulge it; the witness said he might safely communicate the
business to him; and the prisoners, Cummings and Davis, being present,
M'Can said, the plan in which he and the other prisoners were concerned,
was to effect their own enlargement by demolishing the walls of the
prison, as they were determined not to be confined within those walls
for debt; the execution of this plan would, however, depend upon the
rejection of Lord Rawdon's bill: after they had effected their escape by
setting fire to the prison, they would then go to the Fleet Prison, and
liberate the prisoners; after which they should proceed to the houses of
Lords Thurlow and Kenyon, which they would destroy. Davis said he should
not hesitate, himself, to blow out the brains of those noble lords; the
same witness saw the other defendants, who conversed upon the subject;
and it was proposed to procure some sailors to assist them. This scheme
was, however, defeated by the vigilance of the marshal, who sent for the
guards and had the prison searched. The witness soon afterwards saw the
prisoners M'Can, Cummings and Davis, who said that they were defeated in
their former scheme, and that they were determined to put some other
plot into execution; and, on the next day, Cummings, who was nick-named
"the Captain," said that the best plan would be "to blow the d--d walls
up." He then conducted the witness to the bake-house, and pointed to a
place where the drain was opened, saying, that he meant to introduce a
box into it, containing 50lbs. weight of gunpowder; and that he had
planned how the tubes, by which the fire should be conveyed to it,
should run. He then asked the witness to get the box made; and the plan
having been communicated to M'Can and Davis, they declared that it would
be "glorious," and that they would lose their lives in the attempt.
Bourne was then acquainted with the plot, as he had some gunpowder, and
he acquiesced in it; and it was determined that, as he had not got
enough powder, a motion should be made at the next meeting of the
Convivials for a subscription of five shillings each to buy more, under
the pretence that it was to fee counsel, to know whether the marshal had
any right to enter their rooms when he pleased. It was then further
agreed that the powder should be deposited in a hole in the floor of
Burgh's room, which was looked upon as the best place of concealment;
and that on the day of the "explosion," M'Can and Bourne were to get up
a sham fencing-match, in order to give all the prisoners an opportunity
of being collected together and making their escape in a body. The day
fixed upon for the completion of the scheme was Sunday, and it was
determined that seven o'clock should be the hour of the train being
fired, because there were generally a great number of strangers in the
prison then; but the whole affair being in the mean time communicated to
the marshal, the plot was put an end to, by the apprehension of the
prisoners, and the seizure of their powder.
Other witnesses confirmed this testimony, and the prisoners were found
guilty.
On Tuesday, 12th February 1793, they were placed at the bar to receive
judgment, and were severally sentenced to three years' imprisonment in
different jails.
LAURENCE JONES,
INDICTED FOR ROBBERY.
This unfortunate man was a native of London, where he received a good
education, and moved in genteel society, but having been guilty of some
fraudulent practices, he was discharged from the situation which he
held. Being now driven to "seek his fortune," he determined to commence
swindler, and having a considerable sum of money left him by a relation,
he took a very handsome house in St. James's, had it elegantly
furnished, and kept his carriage and servants.
During his abode here he defrauded Mr. Hudson, a silversmith, of plate,
to the value of near three thousand pounds; Mr. Kempton, a mercer, of
silks, and other goods, to a large amount; and Mr. Bailey, a watchmaker
and jeweller, of a gold repeater, and other goods, to the value of three
hundred pounds.
The time of payment coming on, and suspicion being entertained of his
honesty, he thought it time to decamp, and he effected his purpose just
in time to avoid a warrant out against him.
After this he lived privately for some time, that suspicion might die
away before he again began his fraudulent practices, which he carried on
with his usual success, till the occurrence of the affair for which he
was condemned; the particulars of which are as follow:--
Mr. Campbell, the collecting clerk to Vere, Lucadou, and Co., bankers,
in Lombard-street, in the course of his business called at a house in
Hatton-garden for the purpose of demanding payment of a bill. No sooner
had he knocked at the door than it was opened by a person, in appearance
a gentleman, who desired him to walk into the counting-house, and,
having entered, a man came behind him, and covered his head and face
over with a thick cap, so that he could see nothing. He was then thrown
on the floor, and wrapped in a green baize, in which condition he was
bound hand and foot, and carried down stairs. His assailants now
proceeded to rob him of his pocket-book, with bank-notes and bills to
the amount of nine hundred pounds, and having secured the money, they
took measures to prevent a discovery before they could receive the money
for the bills, &c. which they had stolen.
They first laid their victim flat on his back on a board, and chained
him hand and foot, and then carried him down stairs into a back kitchen,
where they chained him to the bars of a grate, threatening that if he
made a noise they would blow his brains out. Then, after placing before
him some bread, some ham, and some water, they left him.
In this condition he remained for about eight hours, not daring to make
the least noise, expecting every moment to be murdered if he spoke: but
Providence preserved him from this dreadful fate; for, hearing no more
of them for so many hours, he at last had the courage to call out, and
he at length succeeded in alarming a man who was at work in a house
behind that in which he was confined. The fellow had the resolution to
break open the door of the house from whence the noise proceeded, when,
directed by the cry, he went down stairs, and there discovered the
unfortunate Mr. Campbell almost expiring, and exhausted with struggling
and crying out.
Jones was afterwards apprehended by Jealous and Kennedy, officers of
Bow-street, at the King's Arms, in Bridge-street, Westminster, and on
being seen by Mr. Campbell, he was immediately recognised by him as one
of the men by whom he had been robbed.
Being committed to Newgate, he was afterwards tried, and found guilty,
when he received sentence, and was ordered for execution on Wednesday,
December 8, 1793, in Hatton-garden, near the house where he committed
the robbery; but on the Saturday previous, about six o'clock in the
morning, when the turnkey entered the cell to prepare him to hear the
condemned sermon and to receive the sacrament, he found him dead. It
appeared that he had made several attempts on his life before, but was
prevented: and the manner in which he at last accomplished his purpose
was very extraordinary: he had taken the knee-strings with which his
fetters were supported, and tied them round his neck; then, tying the
other end to the ring to which his chain was fastened, he placed his
feet against the wall, and strangled himself. The coroner's jury
pronounced a verdict of _Felo de se_.
In consequence of this verdict, the body was, on Wednesday morning,
carried out of Newgate, extended upon a plank on the top of a cart, his
face being covered with a cloth, and his clothes being upon his person,
and in that condition, with a stake driven through his body, he was
thrown into a pit, which was dug at the end of Hatton-garden, at the
brow of Holborn hill, and buried.
ROBERT WATT AND DAVID DOWNIE.
CONVICTED OF HIGH TREASON.
We are now arrived at an alarming period in the modern history of our
country. Just engaged in the war with France, we were perplexed with
disaffection at home, and threatened with invasion by our enemy.
Confederate bodies of dissatisfied men were formed, from London to
Edinburgh, and a systematic course of treason and correspondence was
maintained until government stretched out its powerful arm to defeat
their plans.
Watt and Downie were principals in the Scottish conspiracy, and their
trial came on before the High Court of Justiciary, at Edinburgh, on the
3d of September 1794. Watt was first tried, when Mr. Anstruther stated
the case on the part of the Crown. He began by observing, that such was
the peculiar happiness of that country (Scotland), that they had been
unacquainted with the law of treason for nearly half a century.
The laws of treason were now the same in England and Scotland, and the
duty of the subjects of both kingdoms should be the same. Scotland, in
this instance, had reaped much benefit by the Union, as her laws of
treason, previous to that period, were much more severe. The act of
Edward III. stated three distinct species of treason: 1. Compassing and
imagining the death of the king; 2. Levying war against him; 3.
Assisting his enemies. He would not trouble the Court or Jury with the
two last: for the single species of treason charged in the present case
was the compassing and imagining the death of the king; which was
defined by the conceiving such a design; not the actual act, but the
attempt to effect it. But the law which thus anxiously guarded the
sovereign was equally favourable to the subject; for it did not affect
him until that imagination was fully proved before "men of his
condition." An overt act of treason was the means used for effectuating
the purpose of the mind: it was not necessary to prove a direct attempt
to assassinate the king; for the crime was the intention, and the overt
act the means used to effect it.
After explaining more fully the distinct species of treason which
applied to the present case, Mr. Anstruther said that he trusted that if
he could prove any design whereby the king's life was put in jeopardy,
that would be considered an overt act. He should now state the facts,
upon which these principles of law were to be founded. The present
conspiracy was not that of a few inconsiderable individuals; it had
risen indeed from small beginnings, from meetings for pretended reforms.
It had been fostered by seditious correspondence, the distribution of
libellous writings, and had at last risen to a height, which, but for
the vigilance of the administration, might have deluged the country,
from one end to the other, with blood. The proceedings of these
societies, calling, or rather miscalling, themselves Friends of the
People, were well known: their first intention was apparently to obtain
reform; but this not answering their purpose, they proceeded to greater
lengths. He meant to detail the general plans and designs formed among
the seditious, and then to state how far the prisoners were implicated
in them.
The first dawning of this daring plan was in a letter from Hardy,
secretary to the London Corresponding Society; to Skirving, the
secretary to the Friends of the People in Scotland. He wrote that, as
their petitions had been unsuccessful, they must use separate and more
effectual measures; and Skirving answered, and admitted the necessity of
more effectual measures, and said that he foresaw the downfall of this
government. Here also was the first notice of a Convention; a measure
which it was no wonder they were fond of, when they saw its effects in a
neighbouring kingdom (France). They meant not to petition Parliament,
but to proceed in their own plan, and to supersede the existing
government of the country: and, in that case, the king's life was put in
danger.
Soon after, a Convention, a body unknown to the laws of this country,
met; and in this there would have been little harm, had their views been
peaceable; but their objects were avowedly unconstitutional, for their
intention was to carry on their plans by force, and thus virtually to
lay aside the prerogative of the king. This convention met, using all
the terms and regulations adopted by the convention of another country.
They meant not to apply to Parliament; for whenever that was mentioned,
they proceeded to the order of the day. They resolved to oppose every
act of Parliament which they deemed contrary to the spirit of the
Constitution, and were determined to sit, until compelled to rise by a
force superior to their own.
The Convention, indeed, was dispersed by the spirited conduct of a
magistrate, (Provost Elder,) but another Convention was attempted to be
called, who were to frame their own laws, and to be independent of the
Legislature; or, as they said, independent of their plunderers, enemies,
and oppressors, meaning the King, Lords, and Commons: their resolutions
would prove that they meant to create a government of their own, to do
away the authority of what they called hereditary senators, and packed
majorities; all which proved the intention of putting the king's life in
danger.
But what, it might be said, was all this to the prisoner at the bar?
who, surprising as it might appear, about two years before wrote letters
to Mr. Secretary Dundas, offering to give information as to certain
designs of the Friends of the People. Those letters were answered by
that honourable gentleman with that propriety which had ever marked his
public conduct. The prisoner then corresponded with the Lord Advocate,
but since September 1793, this correspondence had ceased. Previous to
that period, the prisoner was not a member of the Society of Friends of
the People, nor of the British Convention; but his accession since to
its measures, and the calling of another Convention, could be
substantiated. A Committee of Correspondence, of which the prisoner was
a member, was instituted by a new Convention, whose object it was to
carry into effect the views of the last British Convention, and to elect
delegates to a new one. Mr. Watt attended this committee, and coincided
in its measures, which were expressly to supersede the Legislature. The
prisoner had moved for a Committee of Union; and another was appointed,
called the Committee of Ways and Means; of both which he was a member.
This last was a Secret Committee, kept no minutes, was permanent, and
empowered to collect money to support "the great cause." Mr. Downie was
appointed treasurer, and it was to be the medium through which all
instructions and directions were to be given to all friends of the
people throughout the kingdom, and was to procure information of the
number of those that would spare no exertions to support the great
cause. They corresponded with Hardy respecting the calling of a new
Convention, which was to follow up the purposes of the old one; and, as
the prisoner was present, he was in this way coupled with the British
Convention.
Their next attempt was to debauch the minds of the soldiers, and to
excite them to mutiny; for which purpose a paper was printed, and
circulated among a regiment of Fencibles then at Dalkeith. This paper,
which was evidently seditious, was brought home to the prisoner, for the
types from which it was printed were found in his house, and a copy
traced from him into the hands of a soldier.
The next charge to be brought against the prisoner, and the committee of
which he was a member, was a distinct and deliberate plan to overturn
the existing government of the country. The plan proposed was this:--A
fire was to be raised near the Excise-office (Edinburgh), which would
require the attendance of the soldiers in the Castle, who were to be met
there by a body of the friends of the people; another party of whom were
to issue from the West Bow, to confine the soldiers between two fires,
and cut off their retreat; the Castle was next to be attempted; the
judges (particularly the Lord Justice Clerk) were to be seized; and all
the public banks were to be secured. A proclamation was then to be
issued, ordering all the farmers to bring in their grain to market as
usual; and enjoining all country gentlemen to keep within their houses,
or three miles from them, under penalty of death. Then an address was to
be sent to his majesty, commanding him to put an end to the war, change
the ministers, or take the consequences. Such was the plan of the
Committee of Ways and Means, as proposed by the prisoner.
Previous to this, it should have been mentioned that all the friends of
the people were to be armed; for which purpose, one Fairley was
despatched round the country to levy contributions, and disperse
seditious pamphlets; for which he received particular instructions from
the prisoner. Reports were spread through the same channel that the
Goldsmiths' Hall Association were arming, and that it was necessary for
the friends of the people to arm also, for they would be butchered
either by them or the French. It was proved that the prisoner gave
orders to Robert Orrock to make four thousand pikes; and also to one
Brown for the same purpose. These were to be used for completing the
great plan; and Fairley's mission was to inform the country of these
intended proceedings. Another representative body was also formed,
called "collectors of sense and money," who were to have the
distribution of the pikes, and to command the different parties.
Mr. Anstruther then recapitulated shortly the different heads, and
concluded an elaborate and most clear and distinct pleading of more than
two hours and a half, by requesting the jury to lay no farther stress on
what he had said than it should be proved, as it was meant merely as a
clue to the evidence which should be brought before them. Witnesses
were then called who spoke to the facts alluded to by the learned
counsel, and who proved to the fullest extent the charge made against
the prisoner.
The evidence for the Crown being closed,
Mr. W. Erskine, junior counsel for the prisoner, proceeded to open the
defence. He said that he would rest his defence upon the correspondence
carried on between the Right Hon. Henry Dundas, the lord-advocate, and
the prisoner, by which it would appear that he had attended the meetings
of the Friends of the People with no other view than a design to give
information of their proceedings. A letter from the prisoner to Mr.
Secretary Dundas was read, which stated in substance that, as he did not
approve of the dangerous principles which then prevailed in Scotland,
and was friend to the constitution of his country, he thought it his
duty to communicate to him, as a good subject, what information he could
procure of the proceedings of those who styled themselves "Friends of
the People." From an acquaintance with several of the leading men among
them, he flattered himself he had this in his power; and he then went on
to mention some of the names of those leading men in Perth, Dundee, and
Edinburgh. In the first of these places, he said, he had been educated,
and had resided in the two last for a considerable number of years. It
concluded with enjoining secrecy.
To this letter an answer was returned which was also read. It
acknowledged the receipt of Mr. Watt's; and after expressing a hope that
things were not so bad as he represented, desired him to go on, and he
might depend upon his communications being kept perfectly secret.
Another letter from Mr. Dundas to Mr. M'Ritchie, the prisoner's agent,
was next read in answer to one from Mr. M'Ritchie, requesting of Mr.
Dundas what letters he had of the prisoner's. The answer was that all
the letters he had received from Mr. Watt had been delivered to the
lord-advocate.
The Lord-Advocate being sworn, in exculpation, he gave a distinct
account of the transactions which he had had with the prisoner. He had
conversed with him several times at his own lodgings; and he had at one
time given him some information which he thought of importance. This was
respecting the disaffection of some dragoons at Perth, which upon
inquiry turned out to be ill-founded. In March 1793, his lordship said
an offer had been made to him to disclose some important secrets,
provided he would give the prisoner 1000_l._ This he absolutely refused.
However, some time after the prisoner having informed him that he was
much pressed for money to retrieve a bill of 30_l._, his lordship, who
was then in London, not wishing he should be distressed for such a small
sum, sent him an order for the payment of it. All this happened previous
to the meeting of the convention, since which time he did not recollect
to have seen or corresponded with the prisoner.
Upon this evidence it was contended by Mr. Hamilton, that the prisoner
was engaged as a spy for government; and it was well known that a spy
was obliged to assume not only the appearance of those whose secrets he
meant to reveal, but even to take part in their proceedings in order to
prevent a discovery. A spy in an army, he said, was obliged not only to
assume the uniform of the enemy, but even to appear in arms; and it
would be exceedingly hard indeed, if taken in a conflict, that he should
be punished for discharging his duty. He concluded with hoping the jury
would bring in a verdict finding the charges not proved.
The Lord-President, after clearly defining the laws of treason, summed
up the evidence, narrating and explaining the various parts with much
candour, and leaving it entirely to the jury to return such a verdict as
their judgment should direct.
The jury withdrew about half-past five o'clock in the morning, and in
about five minutes returned with a verdict--Guilty.
The trial lasted nearly twenty-two hours.
The case of Downie afterwards came on; and the jury after some time
found him guilty, reconciling themselves to this verdict, by unanimously
consenting to recommending him to mercy, which they did in a very strong
manner.
Shortly after, the following awful sentence of the Court was passed upon
these unfortunate men:--
"Robert Watt and David Downie, you have been found guilty of high
treason by your peers. The sentence of the Court is, therefore, that you
be taken from the place whence you came, from thence you shall be drawn
on a sledge to the place of execution, on Wednesday the 15th of October,
there to hang by your necks till you are both dead; your bowels to be
taken out and cast in your faces; and each of your bodies to be cut in
four quarters, to be at the disposal of his Majesty: and the Lord have
mercy on your souls!"
The unfortunate prisoners received the dreadful sentence with much
firmness and composure, and were immediately conducted to the Castle.
The prisoner Downie subsequently received a respite, and his punishment
was changed for that of transportation for life; but Watt was ordered to
be executed on the 15th of October.
On the appointed day, therefore, at half-past one o'clock, the two
junior magistrates, with white rods in their hands, the Rev. Principal
Baird, and a number of constables, attended by the town-officers, and
the city-guard lining the streets, walked in procession from the
Council-chamber to the east end of Castle-hill, when a message was sent
to the sheriffs in the Castle, that they were there waiting to receive
the prisoner.
The prisoner was immediately placed on a hurdle, with his back to the
horse; and the executioner, with a large axe in his hand, took his seat
opposite him at the further end of the hurdle.
The procession then set out from the Castle, the sheriffs walking in
front, a number of county constables surrounding the hurdle, and the
military keeping off the crowd. In this manner they proceeded until they
joined the magistrates, when the military returned to the Castle, and
then the procession was conducted to the place of execution.
When they had reached the Tolbooth door, the prisoner was taken from the
hurdle, and carried into the prison, where a considerable time was spent
in devotional exercise. He then came out upon the platform, attended by
the magistrates, sheriffs, Principal Baird, &c.; and after a short time
further being spent in prayer, he mounted the drop-board, and was
immediately launched into eternity.
When the body was taken down it was stretched upon a table; and the
executioner, with two blows of the axe, severed off the head, which was
received into a basket, and then held up to the multitude, while the
executioner called aloud, "There is the head of a traitor, and so perish
all traitors!"
The body and head were then placed in a coffin and removed.
The execution was conducted throughout with the greatest solemnity, and
the prisoner appeared to be deeply sensible of the awful situation in
which he was placed. He was so emaciated that his appearance was
entirely changed since his trial.
Robert Watt was born in the shire of Kincardine, and was at the time of
his execution about thirty-six years old. He was the natural son of a
Mr. Barclay, a gentleman of fortune and respectability; but like most
other children of illegitimate parentage, he was brought up and educated
under the name of his mother. He was, at about ten years of age, sent to
Perth, where he received a very good education; and at the age of
sixteen he engaged himself with a lawyer in that place; but being of a
religious disposition, he was disgusted at his profession, and soon
withdrew from the desk of his master. Soon after, he went to Edinburgh,
and engaged as a clerk in a paper warehouse, where he lived happily and
respectably for some years; but having a desire to share in the profits
as well as the toils of the business, he wrote to his father, and
prevailed upon him to assist him with some money, to enable him to
procure a partnership with his master.
He then made proposals to the above purpose, which were, however,
rejected by his employer; but being provided with money, he entered into
the wine and spirit trade. His success in business continued very
promising, until he was almost ruined by the commencement of the war. At
this period his acquaintance with the Friends of the People commenced.
Its unfortunate termination is already made known to our readers.
ARCHIBALD HAMILTON ROWAN, ESQ.
CONVICTED OF PUBLISHING A SEDITIOUS LIBEL.
Although we do not consider the numerous instances of conviction for the
publication of seditious libels, which took place in Dublin about this
time, as being strictly within the plan of our work, yet the
extraordinary and romantic circumstances attending the escape of Mr.
Rowan induce us to give his case insertion. The agitation produced both
in England and Ireland, immediately after the French revolution, in
which many persons sought to excite the people to follow the example of
their Gallic neighbours, produced a number of prosecutions, the recital
of which alone would be sufficient to fill our volume.
Among other convictions which took place was that of Mr. Archibald
Hamilton Rowan, who was found guilty in the Court of King's Bench,
Dublin, on the 29th of January 1794, of publishing in the year 1792 a
false, scandalous, and malicious libel against the Government,
purporting to be an address from a society called the United Irishmen of
Dublin to the Volunteers of Ireland, and signed by Mr. Rowan as their
secretary,--an offence for which he was sentenced to be imprisoned for
two years, to pay a fine of 500_l._, and to find security in the amount
of 4000_l._ for his good behaviour for seven years.
It appears that after about two or three months of the term of
imprisonment had expired, William Jackson, a divine of some notoriety in
England, and several others were arrested on a charge of high treason,
in which it appeared probable that Rowan would be implicated. He
therefore determined on effecting his escape; and the manner in which
he accomplished it has been thus narrated:--
Having discovered, on the 28th of April 1794, the extent of the danger
in which he was involved, he arranged a plan of flight, to be put into
execution on the night of the 1st of May. He had the address to prevail
on the jailer of Newgate, who knew nothing farther of his prisoner than
that he was under sentence of confinement for a political libel, to
accompany him at night to his own house. They were received by Mrs.
Rowan, who had a supper prepared in the front room of the second floor.
The supper over, the prisoner requested the jailer's permission to say a
word or two in private to his wife in the adjoining room. The latter
consented, on condition of the door between the two rooms remaining
open; and he had so little suspicion of what was meditated, that,
instead of examining the state of the other room, he contented himself
with shifting his chair at the supper-table, so as to give him a view of
the open door-way. In a few seconds his prisoner was beyond his reach,
having descended by a single rope, which had been slung from the window
of the back chamber, into the street. In his stable he found a horse
ready saddled, and a peasant's outside coat to disguise him; and with
these he posted to the house of Mr. Matthew Dowling, his attorney, who
was aware of his design, and was under an engagement to aid him, both by
his advice and personal assistance. On his arrival at the attorney's
house, he found it full of company; but the host coming to him pointed
out the imprudence of his giving him shelter, and directed him to wait
for him at the Rotunda, a building in Sackville-street, where he would
join him, as soon as he could dispose of his guests. For an hour and a
half, tormented by hopes and fears, did the fugitive await the coming of
his friend; but Irish gentlemen in those days, as well as in modern
times, were not the men to quit their bottle; and it was not until the
expiration of that time that Mr. Dowling made his appearance. He at
length arrived, however; and after a short and anxious conference, it
was determined that it was best for Mr. Rowan to proceed at once to the
house of a friend, a Mr. Sweetman, about four miles off, at the north of
the Bay of Dublin, whence it was anticipated he might in a day or two
make his escape by boat. He accordingly proceeded thither with all
possible speed, but three days elapsed before the design could be
carried out. Mr. Sweetman's pleasure-boat was then manned by some
fellows who lived on the spot, and who undertook to convey their
passenger to the coast of France. They put to sea at night; but a gale
of wind coming on, they were compelled to put back, and take shelter
under the Hill of Howth. They lay there at anchor until the following
morning; and they were then about again to proceed on their voyage, when
a small revenue cruiser sailing by threw into the boat copies of a
proclamation, which had issued, offering a reward of 2000_l._ for the
apprehension of the fugitive. The bills were read, but no remark made;
and in the bustle attending the getting the little vessel under way, no
further notice was taken of them. When they had reached mid-channel,
however, a second inspection of them took place, and the unfortunate
exile beheld the brows of his crew contracted, as they looked from the
printed papers to him, apparently engaged in comparing the description
which was given of the fugitive with his person. He knew the generous
character of the Irish peasantry. He was himself an Irishman; he knew
the loyalty and devotion of their hearts to persons in distress; and he
could calculate upon receiving from them, as strangers, that aid which
they would not have more readily given to their own brothers. His course
was immediately determined upon; he admitted that their conjectures were
right--that he was the runaway, Hamilton Rowan; but he added, "You are
Irishmen." The answer which he received was characteristic of their
country. They gave a cheer, threw the proclamation overboard, and set
about hastening their passage to the place of their destination.
On the third morning, a little after daybreak, they arrived in sight of
St. Paul de Leon, a fortified town on the coast of Bretagne; and as the
sun rose, a thick mist, which had hovered over them, was dissipated, and
they discovered, about two miles astern, the British Channel-fleet
moving along under easy sail; through which their little vessel had
passed unperceived. The party soon effected a landing, and, being seen,
were seized and conducted to prison as suspected spies; but, in a few
days, their real character being explained, an order from the French
Government procured for their liberation; and the honest crew returned
to Dublin with their boat, while Mr. Rowan proceeded at once to Paris.
In a political convulsion, which subsequently occurred in that city, it
was his fate once more to effect his escape in a wherry down the Seine,
in which he was unaccompanied by any person; and although the banks of
that river were lined with military, he answered their challenges with
so much address, that he was permitted to pass unmolested. Having
reached a French port, he embarked for the United States of America, and
there, unaffected by the political changes of his own country, he
continued to live for several years.
At length, the merits of his personal character prevailed against the
remembrance of his political aberrations; and an act of royal clemency,
generously conceded without any humiliating conditions, restored him
once more to his country; where he continued to reside, in the bosom of
domestic quiet, and in the habitual exercise of every virtue. He had the
satisfaction, too, in his old age, of finding that, in a public point of
view, his debt of gratitude to the Crown had not been wholly unpaid. In
his eldest son, Captain Hamilton, of the Cambrian frigate, he gave to
the British navy one of its most gallant and distinguished commanders.
WILLIAM BUTTERWORTH AND FRANCIS JENNISON.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of these wretched culprits is so disgusting in its details,
that we feel justified in giving it only in as short a form as possible.
At the Hants assizes, in the beginning of August 1794, William
Butterworth and Francis Jennison, two convicts at Cumberland Fort, were
tried before Mr. Justice Grose and Mr. Baron Thompson, for the murder of
Mr. John Groundwater, one of the persons deputed to look after them. The
circumstances of this murder were of the most brutal and atrocious
nature. These hardened wretches, on being reprimanded by Mr.
Groundwater, who threatened to report them for ill-behaviour, swore that
they would rip his bowels out; and were heard by another of the
convicts debating about the manner of perpetrating the murder. In
accordance with a resolution which they arrived at, about six in the
evening of the same day, they fell upon him with two iron shovels, with
which they had been at work in spreading gravel, and with which they
gave him three such wounds on the skull, that his brains fell out in the
quantity of a double handful. They then struck down one of the shovels
upon his neck, with intent to sever the head from the body, but,
striking against the bone, it had not the intended effect. The rest of
the convicts ran to the spot, and one of them caught hold of
Butterworth, to prevent his mangling the body any more; but, after a
struggle, he disengaged himself, ran back to the unfortunate sufferer,
and, catching up the spade again, gave him several cuts, saying, "There,
damn him, I have done him out and out." On being remonstrated with for
his inhuman conduct, he replied that he was transported for life, and he
would rather be hanged than suffer that sentence. It is a most
extraordinary circumstance, established on the evidence of Mr. Hill,
surgeon, who attended him, that Mr. Groundwater lived eighteen hours
after he had received these grievous wounds, notwithstanding the brains
had fallen out, and a prodigious effusion of blood had taken place. He
never spoke after the second blow was given him, but the action of the
pulse was strong, and respiration continued during the whole of the
eighteen hours above mentioned.
Butterworth, though thus steeled in cruelty, was only nineteen years
old; his wretched companion was twenty-five. The publicity of the deed,
and the consequent clear evidence of their guilt, would not admit of
their setting up any defence. The jury pronounced them guilty; and they
were sentenced to be executed in three days after in Lanston Harbour,
and their bodies were ordered to be hung in chains in Cumberland Fort.
They were taken from jail at about four o'clock on Monday morning, and
reached Portsea about eleven. The number of spectators who crowded to
see the execution was immense. Both the prisoners acknowledged that they
alone were the persons who committed the murder, exculpating all the
other convicts from a participation in this horrid offence. Their
behaviour was very penitent, and they seemed to feel sensibly the
enormity of their crime. The execution took place about twelve o'clock,
and their bodies were afterwards hung in chains, pursuant to sentence,
near the spot where the murder was committed.
Both prisoners, it appears, had been convicted of burglary, for which
they were sentenced to death, but had been reprieved on condition of
their being transported for life. They had been at the hulks only about
seven days, when they committed the murder for which they were executed.
ANNE BROADRIC.
INDICTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this unfortunate young woman excited at the time of its
occurrence nearly universal pity.
It appeared that Mr. Errington, the object of her attack, was a
gentleman of large landed and personal property residing at Grays, in
Essex, and his name had become well known from the circumstance of his
having been divorced from his wife, a few years before the melancholy
event which we are about to relate. About three years after the
termination of the proceedings in the Ecclesiastical Courts, he became
acquainted with Miss Broadric, who was a young lady possessed of
considerable accomplishments, of a fine figure, and in personal charms
superior to the generality of her sex. Miss Broadric before this had
lived with a Captain Robinson, but it appears that being addressed by
Mr. Errington with great solicitude, she consented to reside with him in
the character of his wife. A mutual attachment sprung up in the course
of their connexion; but after a lapse of three years, during which they
lived together with every appearance of domestic felicity, Mr. Errington
bestowed his affections and his hand on a lady of respectability in the
neighbourhood, acquainting Miss Broadric that he could see her no more.
On her quitting him, he made what he conceived to be a suitable
provision for her future wants, and she retired apparently deeply
grieved at the unfortunate change which had taken place in the feelings
of her late protector. On the 11th September 1794, she wrote a letter to
him in the following terms:--
"Dear Errington,--That you have betrayed and abandoned the most tender
and affectionate heart that ever warmed a human bosom, cannot be denied
by any person who is in the least acquainted with me. Wretched and
miserable as I have been since you left me, there is still a method
remaining that would suspend, for a time, the melancholy sufferings and
distress which I labour under at this moment; and still, inhuman as thou
art, I am half persuaded, when I tell you the power is in your hands,
that you will not withhold it from me.--What I allude to is the
permission of seeing you once more, and, perhaps, for the last time. If
you consider that the request comes from a woman you once flattered into
a belief of her being the sole possessor of your love, you may not
perhaps think it unreasonable. Recollect, however, Errington, ere you
send a refusal, that the roaring of the tempest, and the lightnings from
heaven, are not more terrible than the rage and vengeance of a
disappointed woman. Hitherto you can only answer for the weakness and
frailty of my nature. There is a further knowledge of my disposition you
must have if you do not grant me the favour demanded. I wish it to come
voluntarily from yourself, or else I will force it from you. Believe me,
in that case I would seek you in the farthest corner of the globe, rush
into your presence, and, with the same rapture that nerved the arm of
Charlotte Cordet, when she assassinated the monster Marat, would I put
an end to the existence of a man, who is the author of all the agonies
and care that at present oppress the heart of
"ANNE BROADRIC."
"P. S. This comes by William (the servant you have discarded on my
account), who has orders to wait for your answer."
Her request being refused, she persisted by letters to endeavour to
induce Mr. Errington to permit her once more to see him, but finding him
inexorable, she wrote to him that if nothing could induce him to do her
an act of justice, he must prepare himself for the fatal alternative, as
she was determined that he should not long survive his infidelity.
To this, as well as to the rest of her letters, Mr. Errington preserved
a strict silence, and in about a month after Miss Broadric carried out
her dreadful resolution. On Friday morning, the 15th of May, she dressed
herself elegantly, and going to the Three Nuns Inn, Whitechapel, she
took her place in the Southend coach, which passed close to Mr.
Errington's seat. Having descended at the avenue-gate, she went towards
the house, but being seen by Mr. Errington, he begged Mrs. Errington to
retire for a few minutes, saying that "his tormentor was coming, but
that he would soon get rid of her." The latter, however, desired him to
leave the interview to her management, and desiring her husband to go
into the drawing-room, she awaited the arrival of Miss Broadric in the
parlour. In the mean time the latter had entered the house by the
kitchen, and having learned from the footman that Mr. Errington was at
home, she was proceeding up stairs, attended by the gardener, when she
met Mrs. Errington. She demanded to see Mr. Errington, and was told that
he was not to be seen, but saying "I am not to be so satisfied; I know
the ways of this house too well, and will search for him:" she rushed up
stairs into the drawing-room. She there found the object of her inquiry,
and going up to him she suddenly drew from her pocket a small
brass-barrelled pistol, with a new hagged flint, and presenting it to
his left side in a direction towards his heart, exclaimed, "Errington, I
am come to perform my dreadful promise," and she immediately fired. Mrs.
Errington, who had followed her, fainted, but Miss Broadric observing
that Mr. Errington did not fall, she said that she feared she had not
despatched him. Mr. Errington demanded to know how he had deserved such
treatment at her hands, but she made no answer, and the servants,
alarmed by the report of the pistol, then coming into the room, she
threw the pistol on the carpet, and exclaimed, laughing, "Here, take me;
hang me; do what you like with me: I do not care now." Mr. Miller, a
surgeon, soon after attended, and found that the ball had penetrated the
lowest rib, had cut three ribs asunder, and then passed round the back,
and lodged under the shoulder-bone, from whence every effort was made to
extract it, but in vain. Mr. Button, a magistrate, now came, who took
the examination of Mr. Errington after his wound was dressed. He asked
Miss Broadric what could induce her to commit such an act of extreme
violence, and her answer was, "That she was determined that neither Mr.
Errington nor herself should long outlive her lost peace of mind!" Mr.
Errington entreated the magistrate not to detain her in custody, but let
her depart, as he was sure he should do well; but this request Miss
Broadric refused to accept, and the magistrate to grant. Her commitment
being made out, she was conveyed that evening to Chelmsford jail, where
she remained tolerably composed till she heard of Mr. Errington's death,
when she burst into a flood of tears, and lamented bitterly that she had
been its cause. The coroner's inquest sat on the body on Tuesday, the
19th of May, and brought in their verdict, "Wilful murder, by the hands
of Anne Broadric." Mr. Errington was in the thirty-ninth year of his
age.
Friday, the 17th of July, was fixed for the trial of the prisoner, and
at six o'clock in the morning, the prisoner was conveyed from the jail,
in a chaise, to a room in the shire-hall; and about ten minutes before
the Lord Chief Baron Macdonald, the sheriffs, and magistrates, appeared
on the bench, she was conveyed into the bail-dock in the criminal court,
attended by three ladies and her apothecary. She was dressed in
mourning, without powder; and, after the first perturbations were over,
occasioned by the concourse of surrounding spectators, she sat down on a
chair prepared for her, and was tolerably composed, except at intervals,
when she discovered violent agitations, as her mind became affected by
various objects and circumstances. When the indictment was reading, she
paid a marked attention to it; and on the words, "that on the right
breast of the said G. Errington she did wilfully and feloniously inflict
one mortal wound," &c. she exclaimed, "Oh, my great God!" and burst into
a torrent of tears.
The facts above stated having been proved in evidence, the prisoner's
counsel proceeded to call witnesses in support of her defence, who all
joined in stating, that they had known her repeatedly to exhibit
symptoms of insanity.
This defence was not traversed by the counsel on the other side, and the
Jury, after a few minutes' consideration, returned a verdict of not
guilty.
The judges, on leaving the town, after the assizes were over, directed
that Miss Broadric should be examined before two magistrates, that she
might be safely removed, under their order, to the place of her
settlement, with a particular recommendation annexed thereto, that she
might be taken all possible care of.
THE REV. MR. JACKSON.
CONVICTED OF TREASON.
IN connexion with the case of the unfortunate, or rather the fortunate,
Mr. Hamilton Rowan, this case may prove interesting, as showing the
extent to which that gentleman was engaged in plotting against the
Government. Mr. Jackson was a native of Ireland, and a minister of the
Church of England. Early in life he preached at Tavistock Chapel,
London, and for several years resided in chambers in Lyon's Inn; but the
emoluments of his clerical occupation not affording him a sufficient
subsistence, he applied his talents to literature, and was for a
considerable time editor of a newspaper, in which situation he made
himself very conspicuous. He afterwards entered into a criminal
conspiracy, and was tried at Dublin for high treason, on the 23d of
April, 1795.
The indictment charged the prisoner with two species of treason, namely,
compassing the king's death, and adhering to his enemies; and stated
fourteen overt acts. The Attorney-general opened the prosecution on the
part of the Crown; and having dwelt at some length on the doctrine of
treason, proceeded to substantiate the charges in the indictment, for
which purpose he called Mr. Cockayne, an attorney of London, who deposed
that he had been for a series of years the law-agent and intimate friend
of Mr. Jackson, who a few years since went to France (as the witness
understood) to transact some private business for Mr. Pitt, where he
resided a considerable time. Soon after his return, Mr. Cockayne said he
called on Jackson, who told him in confidence that he had formed a
design of going to Ireland, to sound the people, for the purpose of
procuring a supply of provisions, &c. from them for the French, and
requested him (the witness) to accompany him. Having accepted the
invitation, he immediately waited on Mr. Pitt, and discovered to him the
whole of Mr. Jackson's plans. The minister thanked him for the
information, and hinted that, as the matter was to become a subject of
legal investigation, it would be necessary for him to substantiate the
allegations; the witness in consequence accompanied Mr. Jackson to
Ireland, for the purpose of making himself acquainted with his
proceedings. Shortly after their arrival in Dublin, where they lived
together, the prisoner expressed a wish to be introduced to Mr. Hamilton
Rowan, who was then confined in Newgate; and at length, through the
interference of a friend, he obtained an interview, at which Mr.
Cockayne was present. In the course of conversation, the prisoner
delivered two papers to Mr. Rowan, for the purpose of convincing him
that he was a person in whom he might confide. From that time an
intimacy took place between them; and the witness always accompanied Mr.
Jackson in his visits to Mr. Rowan, and constantly took a part in their
conversation. They agreed, he said, that a person should be sent to
France to procure a force to make a descent on Ireland; and Counsellor
Wolfe Tone was mentioned as a fit person for that purpose, who at first
appeared to acquiesce, but afterwards declined the office. Dr. Reynolds
was then proposed by Mr. Rowan, but objected to by the prisoner, as he
did not understand the French language. It was, however, at length
agreed that the doctor should undertake the embassy; but in a short
time, he also refused to enter into the business. On this, it was agreed
that Mr. Jackson should write several letters, which were directed for a
Mr. Stone, of the firm of Lawrence and Co., London. These contained
inclosures for houses at Hamburgh and Amsterdam; and some of them, to
the French agents, described the situation of Ireland at the time,
invited an invasion, and pointed out the proper places to land. These
letters having been sent to the Post-office, the witness went to the
secretary and informed him of the subject of them, on which they were
detained. The plot, matured thus far, having been discovered, the
prisoner was taken into custody.
The defence was grounded upon the suggestion, that the evidence adduced
in support of the prosecution was undeserving of credit; but the jury
found the prisoner guilty.
A motion, in arrest of judgment, was then made by Mr. Curran, who
appeared as counsel for the prisoner, on a point of law; in consequence
of which, he was remanded. He was brought up again on the 30th April;
when, before the arguments of counsel commenced, he was observed to be
in a sinking state, and an apothecary being called in, he was found to
have taken poison. He expired almost immediately afterwards in the
presence of the Court and Bar.
LEWIS JEREMIAH AVERSHAW.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER, IN SHOOTING A PEACE-OFFICER.
This criminal was one of the most daring and unrepentant sinners that
ever died by the hands of the executioner. There has too frequently
been, among the most hardened, an affected contempt of death, and a
foolhardiness of behaviour, on their exit from this world, which makes
every one shudder. In this criminal it was peculiarly exemplified.
Avershaw was an old offender, and had committed numerous crimes which
called aloud for justice. He was at length brought to trial at Croydon,
in Surrey, on the 30th of July, 1795, charged on two indictments; one
for having, at the Three Brewers' public-house, Southwark, feloniously
shot at, and murdered, David Price, an officer belonging to the
police-office, held at Union Hall, in the Borough; the other, for
having, at the same time and place, fired a pistol at Bernard Turner,
another officer attached to that office, with intent to murder him. Mr.
Garrow, the leading counsel for the prosecution, opened the case by
stating, that the prisoner at the bar, being a person of ill-fame, had
been suspected of having perpetrated a number of felonies; and the
magistrates of the police-office in the borough of Southwark, having
received information against him, sent, as was their duty, an order for
his apprehension. To execute the warrant, the deceased, Price, and
another officer, went to the Three Brewers, a public-house, where they
understood he was drinking in company with some other persons. At the
entrance of a parlour in the house the prisoner appeared in a posture of
resistance; and holding a loaded pistol in each of his hands he, with
threats and imprecations, desired the officers to stand off, as he would
otherwise fire at them. The officers, however, attempted to rush in and
seize him; on which he discharged both the pistols at the same instant,
lodging the contents of one in the body of Price, and with the other
wounding Turner very severely in the head. Price, after languishing a
few hours, died of the wound. Mr. Garrow was very pathetic and animated
in his description of the several circumstances composing the shocking
act of barbarity. To prove it, he would call four witnesses, whose
evidence, he said, would clearly establish the prisoner's guilt. He
accordingly called Turner, the landlord of the house, a surgeon, and a
fourth witness; but, as the substance of their evidence is comprised in
the opening of the indictment, it would be superfluous to repeat it.
Turner said positively, that he saw the prisoner discharge the pistols,
from one of which he himself received his wound, and the contents of the
other were lodged in the body of Price, who died very shortly after. The
surgeon proved that the death was in consequence of the wound. Mr.
Knowlys and Mr. Best were counsel for the prisoner; but the weight of
the evidence against him was too strong to be combated by any exertions.
Mr. Baron Perryn summed up the evidence; and the jury, after a
consultation of about three minutes, pronounced the verdict of guilty.
Through a flaw in the indictment for the murder, an objection was taken
by counsel. This was urged nearly two hours, when Mr. Baron Perryn
intimating a wish to take the opinion of the twelve judges, the counsel
for the prosecution, waving the point for the present, insisted on the
prisoner's being tried on the second indictment, for feloniously
shooting at Bernard Turner. He was accordingly tried; and, upon the
testimony of one witness, found guilty on a second capital indictment.
The prisoner, who, contrary to general expectation, had in a great
measure hitherto refrained from his usual audacity, now began with
unparalleled insolence of expression and gesture, to ask his lordship if
he "was to be murdered by the evidence of one witness?" several times
repeating the question, till the jury returned him--guilty. When Mr.
Baron Perryn put on the black cap, the prisoner, regardless of his
dreadful situation, at the same time put on his hat, observing the judge
with contemptuous looks while he was passing the sentence.
When the constables were removing him from the dock to a coach, he
continued to vent torrents of abuse against the judge and jury, whom he
charged with, as he styled it, his murder. As his desperate disposition
was well known, he was, to prevent resistance, handcuffed, and his
thighs and arms also bound strongly together; in which situation he was
conveyed back to prison. So callous was this ruffian to every degree of
feeling, that on his way to be tried, as he was passing near the usual
place of execution on Kennington Common, he put his head out of the
coach window, and, with all the _sang froid_ imaginable, asked some of
those who guarded him, if they did not think he would be _twisted_ on
that pretty spot by Saturday? After receiving sentence of death, he was
conducted back to prison; where having got some black cherries, he
amused himself with painting on the white walls of the room in which he
was confined, various sketches of robberies which he had committed; one
representing him running up to the horses' heads of a post-chaise,
presenting a pistol at the driver, and the words,--"D--n your eyes,
stop," issuing out of his mouth; another exhibited a scene, where he was
firing into the chaise; a third, where the parties had quitted the
carriage, and several others, in which he was described in the act of
taking the money from the passengers, being fired at, where his
companions were shot dead, &c.
At the place of execution, he appeared entirely unconcerned. He had a
flower in his mouth, his bosom was thrown open, and he kept up an
incessant conversation with the persons who rode beside the cart;
frequently laughing and nodding to others of his acquaintance, whom he
perceived in the crowd.
He suffered August 3, 1795, at Kennington Common.
WILLIAM TILLEY, JOHN CROSSWELL, GEORGE HARDWICK, JAMES HAYDEN, JOHN
HAWDEN, SIMON JACOBS, JOHN SOLOMONS, JOHN PHILLIPS, AND JOHN HENLEY.
CONVICTED OF A CONSPIRACY.
This most extraordinary conspiracy to procure the liberation of a
prisoner occurred on the 4th of April 1795.
It appears that a fellow named Isdwell, a Jew, stood charged with a
forgery on the Stamp-Office, and for security was committed to the
custody of the keeper of the New Prison, Clerkenwell. On the day in
question, he persuaded two of the turnkeys that an aunt of his, who was
very rich, then lay at the point of death, and that he had been informed
that, could she see him before she died, she would give him one thousand
pounds.
He proposed, therefore, that if they would let him out, and accompany
him to the place, he would give them fifty guineas each for their
trouble: and suggested that the matter might be effected without the
knowledge of the keeper of the prison, or any other person, they having
the keys of it at night, and the time required being very short. To this
proposal the turnkeys agreed; and accordingly, about one o'clock in the
morning, the gates were opened, and Isdwell, with his irons on, was
conducted in a hackney-coach by one of them, armed with a blunderbuss,
to the house in Artillery-lane, Bishopsgate-street, where, inquiring for
the sick lady, they were ushered up stairs.
Isdwell entered the room first, on which several fellows rushed forth,
and attempted to keep the turnkey out; but, not succeeding, they put the
candles out, wrested the blunderbuss out of his hand, and discharged it
at him. At this instant Isdwell was endeavouring to make his escape out
of the window, but he received the whole charge in his body, and fell
dead on the spot. A desperate conflict then took place, in the course of
which the jailor was very severely beaten, but some persons being
attracted to the spot by the uproar, the officer was rescued, and the
prisoners were apprehended, and lodged in safe custody.
The prisoners were tried for the murder of their companion, to which
their offence in reality amounted, his death having been caused by them
in executing an unlawful deed, on the 21st April; but the prosecution
failed in consequence of the absence of any proof to establish the fact
distinctly, the occurrence having happened in the dark; but, being
detained to be tried for the conspiracy to procure the liberation of the
deceased Isdwell, they were convicted, and received sentence of
transportation.
CHARLES SCOLDWELL.
CONVICTED OF STEALING.
The case of this fellow may prove a wholesome lesson to some of the
constables and bailiffs of the present day.
The very remarkable transaction, upon which the indictment against the
prisoner arose, took place at Bedfont; and the trial came on at the Old
Bailey, on the 23rd July 1796. The indictment charged the prisoner with
feloniously stealing, taking, and carrying away two live tame ducks, the
property of John Spurling, on the 22nd of the previous month of June.
From the evidence which was adduced, it appeared that Mr. Spurling was a
baker at Bedfont, and that the prisoner was a bailiff. On the 22nd June,
the latter was entrusted with a writ of execution against Mr. Spurling;
and accompanied by his follower, a man named Taylor, he proceeded to
Bedfont, to secure his person. The debt amounted to 16_l._ 7_s._; and at
two o'clock at night the prisoner made his appearance at the
prosecutor's house. Upon his being required to explain his business, he
said that he had a writ, and that Mr. Spurling must accompany him to
Newgate. Mr. Spurling demurred at proceeding to prison at so late an
hour at night, and suggested that he might settle the demand; but the
prisoner, with all the insolence usually assumed by persons holding
similar situations, declared that there was no use in talking, and that
the prosecutor must hire a post-chaise, and go off with him at once.
This new demand of a post-chaise was looked upon as a hardship, almost
equal to that of going to prison, by Mr. Spurling, and he offered his
own one-horse chaise for the purpose of his transportation to town, but
all was of no avail; the bailiff and the bully were united in the person
of Mr. Scoldwell, and nothing but a post-chaise and an immediate visit
to Newgate would suit his pleasure. At length, however, Mr. Taylor, his
follower, whose caution was rather greater than that of his master,
ventured to inquire what sort of a settlement could be tendered by Mr.
Spurling, and the latter immediately offered to pay 15_l._, which he had
in the house, and to give security for the remainder of the debt. "Have
you a watch?" peremptorily demanded Mr. Scoldwell, "if so, I must have
it;" and the poor baker was compelled to give up his watch, worth four
times the amount of the balance of the demand. The officer, however, was
not yet satisfied. "Such gentlemen as we," said he, "cannot come into
the country without something to cover our expenses. You must pay us for
our trouble and time;" and ten shillings in halfpence, the amount of the
day's earnings in the shop, were handed over to him. His wife was as
much an object of consideration as himself, he next suggested. She had
been deprived of his company, and he must carry something to her by way
of a recompense. Were there no fowls in the house? Mr. Spurling had
none. A goose would do;--Mrs. Scoldwell was very fond of goose, and Mr.
Spurling being entitled to a goose which was feeding on the common,
Taylor was despatched to take possession of it on behalf of his master.
Still, however, the bailiff was dissatisfied; and he demanded that some
additional security should be given for the debt; and having discovered
that the baker had a lease of his house, he procured that also to be
delivered to him, together with a note for forty pounds, with a
condition, that unless the debt and costs were paid within twenty-one
days all should be his. Thus pretty well secured, the prisoner, between
four and five o'clock in the morning, proposed to depart, and the baker
proceeded to his oven. While there, however, he saw the prisoner go to
his stable where his ducks were confined, and in the morning the two
ducks, mentioned in the indictment, were found to have been carried off.
On his way to London, the prisoner joked with the stage-coachman about
his having done the baker out of his watch, and having carried off his
ducks without his knowledge; and Mr. Spurling having subsequently
redeemed his watch, lease, and the note of hand for 40_l._, by paying
the balance of the debt and the costs, he immediately gave the prisoner
into custody.
These facts being clearly proved in evidence, the Recorder summed up the
case to the jury, and a verdict of guilty was returned.
The prisoner was afterwards sentenced to seven years transportation a
punishment which he richly deserved.
JOSEPH HODGES AND RICHARD PROBIN.
CONVICTED OF CROSS DROPPING.
The trick of cross-dropping has become so notorious of late years, that,
any description of the mode in which it was practised is almost
unnecessary. As, however, this is the first case of the kind with which
we have met in the course of our search in the records of crime, we
shall give it a place in our calendar.
The dupe, in this instance, was William Headley, an ironmonger at
Cambridge, who, on the trial of these robbers, deposed that on the 7th
of July 1796, he was in town, going from Shoe-lane to the Angel Inn, St.
Clement's, to take a place on the outside of the coach to go into
Wiltshire; when he met Hodges who was a stranger in Butcher-row, and
left him to take his place. He went on to Clare Market, where Hodges
overtook him, and they walked together through Portugal-street. While in
that street Hodges suddenly stopped, and clapping his cane on a parcel
which was lying on the ground, said that he had a "finding." He picked
up the parcel, and opened the outer covering, and the witness saw in it
something like a red pocket-book. He inquired what it was? but the
prisoner refused to show him in the street, and they, in consequence,
went into a public-house in order to open it. Having called for some
liquor, the prisoner opened the parcel, and produced from it what looked
like a diamond cross, and a receipt in the following terms:--
"London. 20th June, 1796. Received of John King, Esq. the sum of three
hundred and twenty pounds, for one brilliant diamond cross, by me,
William Smith."
The prisoner seemed much alarmed and confused on seeing this, but the
witness having read the receipt, suggested that the parcel should be
taken to Mr. Smith. This, however, was opposed by Hodges, who asked
whether they had not better inquire of the gentleman sitting by (the
prisoner Probin) what his opinion was? This was assented to, and upon
his being addressed, he suggested that Hodges ought to give the witness
a present, as having been by when the cross was found, and that he
should keep it. The cross was then taken out and examined, and Hodges
said that he did not mind giving the witness something, but he must go
to his banker's first, and get some drafts changed. He then went out,
leaving the cross with the witness and Probin, but returned, saying that
his banker was out, and could not be seen until four o'clock, and a
meeting at that hour was eventually appointed to take place at the Angel
Inn, St. Clement's. Each party then gave his name. Hodges said that he
came from Worcester, and was a hop-merchant; and Probin said that his
name was William Jones, and that he lived at No. 7, Charing-cross. A
discussion now took place, to whom the care of the cross should be
entrusted; and Probin suggested, that the witness perhaps would be
better satisfied if it were left in his hands, and that if he deposited
something he might carry it away until four o'clock. He asked what would
be required, and they said that he ought to leave one hundred pounds at
least. He then produced a Bank bill, payable on demand, for that amount
from his stocking, where he had concealed it, and handing it to Hodges,
he said that that would do. The witness then went away, but subsequently
showing the cross to a friend, he found that it was quite valueless.
Information was, in consequence, given at Bow-street of the robbery, and
both prisoners were apprehended in the course of the ensuing day, money
to the amount of nearly fifty pounds being found on each. It afterwards
turned out, that the prisoner Hodges changed Mr. Headley's Bank bill
almost immediately after he had received it. In his possession was found
a second cross, precisely similar to that palmed off upon the
prosecutor.
The prisoners being found guilty, were sentenced to be transported for
seven years.
THE MUTINY AT THE NORE. RICHARD PARKER.
EXECUTED FOR MUTINY.
In the year 1797, when the threatening aspect of affairs abroad made the
condition of her naval force a matter of vital consequence to Britain,
several most alarming mutinies broke out among the various fleets
stationed around the shores of the country. In April of the year
mentioned, the seamen of the grand fleet lying at Portsmouth disowned
the authority of their officers, seized upon the ships, and declared
their determination not to lift an anchor, or obey any orders
whatsoever, until certain grievances of which they complained were
redressed. After some delay, satisfactory concessions were made to them
by the government, and the men returned to their duty. But the spirit of
insubordination had spread among other squadrons in the service, and
about the middle of May, immediately after the Portsmouth fleet had
sailed peacefully for the Bay of Biscay, the seamen of the large fleet
lying at the Nore broke out also into open mutiny. The most prominent
personage in this insurrection was an individual named Richard Parker,
whose history it is our object in this paper to lay before the reader.
Richard Parker was a native of Exeter, where he was born about the year
1765 or 1766. His father was a reputable tradesman, and kept a baker's
shop at St. Sidwell's, in the bounds of the city mentioned. Young Parker
received an excellent education, and in the course of time went to sea,
which he had chosen as the scene of his future career. He served for a
considerable period in the royal navy as midshipman and master's mate,
and at one period also, it is said, held the post of lieutenant. He
appears to have given up the naval profession on his marriage with Miss
Ann Machardy, a young lady resident in Exeter, but of Scottish origin,
being a member of a respectable family in the county of Aberdeen. This
connexion led Parker to remove to Scotland, where he embarked in some
mercantile speculations that proved unsuccessful. The issue was, that he
ere long found himself involved in difficulties, and without the means
to maintain his wife and two children. In Edinburgh, where these
embarrassments fell upon him, he had no friends to apply to, and, in a
moment of desperation, he took the king's bounty, and became a common
sailor on board a tender at Leith. When he communicated to his wife the
step he had taken, she was in the greatest distress, and resolved to set
off instantly for Aberdeen, in order to procure from her brother there
the means of hiring two seamen as substitutes for her husband. Though
successful in raising the necessary funds, no time was allowed her to
complete her project. On her return from Aberdeen, she was only in time
to see the tender sail for the Nore, with her husband on board. Her
grief on this occasion was bitterly aggravated by the death of one of
her children. Parker's sufferings were shown to be equally acute by his
conduct when the vessel sailed. Exclaiming that he saw the body of his
child floating on the waves, he leaped overboard, and was with
difficulty rescued and restored to life.
It was in the beginning of May 1797 that Parker reached the Nore, or
point of land dividing the mouths of the Thames and the Medway.
Probably on account of his former experience and station as a seaman,
he was drafted on board the Sandwich, which was the guard-ship, and bore
the flag of Admiral Buckner, the port-admiral. The mutinous spirit which
afterwards broke out, certainly existed on board of the Nore squadron
before Parker's arrival. Communications were kept up in secret between
the various crews, and the mischief was gradually drawing to a head. But
though he did not originate the feeling of insubordination, the ardent
temper, boldness, and superior intelligence of Parker, soon became known
to his comrades, and he became a prominent man among them. Their plans
being at length matured, the seamen rose simultaneously against their
officers, and deprived them of their arms, as well as of all command in
the ships, though behaving respectfully to them in all other respects.
Each vessel was put under the government of a committee of twelve men,
and, to represent the whole body of seamen, every man-of-war appointed
two delegates, and each gun-boat one, to act for the common good. Of
these delegates Richard Parker was chosen president, and, in an unhappy
hour for himself, he accepted the office. This representative body drew
up a list of grievances, of which they demanded the removal, offering to
return immediately afterwards to their duty. It is unnecessary to
specify these demands further, than that they related to increase of pay
and provisions, a more equal division of prize-money, liberty to go on
shore, proper payment of arrears, and other points of naval discipline.
A committee of naval inquiry subsequently _granted_ almost all that was
demanded, thereby acknowledging the general justice of the complaints
made. Parker signed these documents, and they were published over the
whole kingdom with his name, as well as presented to Port-admiral
Buckner, through whom they were sent to government.
When these proceedings commenced, the mutineers were suffered to go on
shore, and they paraded about Sheerness, where a part of the fleet lay,
with music, flags (_red_ in colour--the customary hue of
insubordination), and other appendages of a triumphal procession. But,
on the 22d of May, troops were sent to Sheerness to put a stop to this
indulgence. Being thus confined to their ships, the mutineers, having
come to no agreement with Admiral Buckner, began to take more decisive
measures for extorting compliance with their demands, as well as for
insuring their own safety. The vessels at Sheerness moved down to the
Nore, and the combined force of the insurgents, which at its greatest
height consisted of twenty-four sail, proceeded to block up the Thames,
by refusing a free passage, up or down, to the London trade. Foreign
vessels, and a few small craft, were suffered to go by, first receiving
a passport, signed by Richard Parker as president of the delegates. In a
day or two the mutineers had an immense number of vessels under
detention. The mode in which they kept these was as follows:--The ships
of war were ranged in a line, at considerable distances from each other,
and in the interspaces were placed the merchant-vessels, having the
broadsides of the men-of-war pointed to them. The appearance of the
whole assemblage is described as having been at once grand and
appalling. The red flag floated from the mast-head of every one of the
mutineer ships. It may be well imagined that the alarm of the citizens
of London was extreme. The government, however, though unable at the
period to quell the insurgents by force, remained firm in their demand
of "unconditional submission as a necessary preliminary to any
intercourse." This, perhaps, was the very best line of conduct that
could have been adopted. The seamen, to their great honour, never seemed
to think of assuming an offensive attitude, and were thereby left in
quiet to meditate on the dangerous position in which they stood in
hostility to a whole country. They grew timorous; the more so, as the
government had caused all the buoys to be removed from the mouth of the
Thames and the adjacent coasts, so that no vessel durst attempt to move
away for fear of running aground. The mutineering vessels held together,
nevertheless, till the 30th of May, when the Clyde frigate was carried
off through a combination of its officers with some of the seamen, and
was followed by the St. Fiorenzo. These vessels were fired upon, but
escaped up the river.
On the 4th of June, the king's birth-day, the Nore fleet showed that
their loyalty to their sovereign was undiminished, by firing a general
salute. On the 5th, another frigate left the fleet, but its place was
supplied by a sloop and four men-of-war, which had left Admiral Duncan's
fleet at the Texel to join the mutiny. On the 6th, Lord Northesk met the
delegates by desire on board the Sandwich, and received from them
proposals for an accommodation, to which the unfortunate Parker still
put his name as president. The answer was a direct refusal, and this
firmness seems to have fairly humbled the remaining spirit of the
mutineers. From that time one vessel after another deserted the band,
and put themselves under the protection of the fort at Sheerness. On the
10th, the merchantmen were allowed by common consent to pass up the
river, and such a multitude of ships certainly never entered a port by
one tide. By the 12th, only seven ships had the red flag flying, and on
the 16th the mutiny had terminated, every ship having been restored to
the command of its officers. A party of soldiers went on board the
Sandwich, and to them the officers surrendered the delegates of the
ship, namely, a man named Davies, and Richard Parker.
Richard Parker, to whom the title of Admiral Parker had been given by
the fleet and by the public during the whole of this affair, was the
individual on whom all eyes were turned as the ringleader of the
mutineers. He was brought singly to trial on the 22d of June, after
being confined during the interval in the black-hole of Sheerness
garrison. Ten officers, under the presidency of Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas
Paisley, composed the court-martial, which sat on board the Neptune, off
Greenhithe. The prisoner conducted his own defence, exhibiting great
presence of mind, and preserving a respectful and manly deference
throughout for his judges. The prosecution on the part of the Crown
lasted two days, and on the 26th, Parker called witnesses in his favour,
and read a long and able defence which he had previously prepared. The
line of argument adopted by him was--that the situation he had held had
been in a measure forced upon him; that he had consented to assume it
chiefly from the hope of restraining the men from excesses; that he had
restrained them in various instances; that he might have taken all the
ships to sea, or to an enemy's ports, had his motives been disloyal, &c.
&c. Parker unquestionably spoke the truth on many of these points.
Throughout the whole affair, the injury done to property was trifling,
the taking of some flour from a vessel being the chief act of the kind.
This was mainly owing to him. But he had indubitably been the head of
the mutineers. He was proved to have gone from ship to ship giving
orders, and haranguing the men--to have been cheered as he passed
along, and treated with the honours of a chief. Nothing could save him.
He was sentenced to death. When his doom was pronounced, he stood up,
and uttered these words in a firm voice: "I shall submit to your
sentence with all due respect, being confident of the innocence of my
intentions, and that God will receive me into favour; and I sincerely
hope that my death will be the means of restoring tranquillity to the
navy, and that those men who have been implicated in the business may be
reinstated in their former situations, and again be serviceable to their
country."
On the morning of the 30th of June, the yellow flag, the signal of
death, was hoisted on board of the Sandwich, where Richard Parker lay,
and where he was to meet his fate. The whole fleet was ranged a little
below Sheerness, in sight of the Sandwich, and the crew of every ship
was piped to the forecastle. Parker was awaked from a sound sleep on
that morning, and after being shaved, he dressed himself in a suit of
deep mourning. He mentioned to his attendants that he had made a will,
leaving his wife heir to some property belonging to him. On coming to
the deck, he was pale, but perfectly composed, and drank a glass of wine
"to the salvation of his soul, and forgiveness of all his enemies!." He
said nothing to his mates on the forecastle but "Good bye to you," and
expressed a hope that "his death would be deemed a sufficient atonement,
and save the lives of others!" He was strung up to the yard-arm at
half-past nine o'clock. A dead silence reigned among the crews around
during the ceremony. In closing their account of this affair, the
journals of the day state that the body of Parker was put into a shell,
and interred, within an hour or two after the execution, in the New
Naval Burying Ground at Sheerness. A curious sequel to this account,
however, it is now in our power to present to the reader.
Richard Parker's unfortunate wife had not left Scotland, when the rumour
came to her ears that the Nore fleet had mutinied, and that the
ringleader was one Richard Parker. She could not doubt that this was her
husband, and immediately took a place in the mail for London, to save
him if possible. On her arrival, she heard that Parker had been tried,
but the result was unknown. Being able to think of no way but
petitioning the king, she gave a person a guinea to draw up a paper,
praying that her husband's life might be spared. She attempted to make
her way with this to his majesty's presence, but was obliged finally to
hand it to a lord-in-waiting, who gave her the cruel intelligence that
all applications for mercy would be attended to, except for Parker. The
distracted woman then took coach for Rochester, where she got on board a
king's ship, and learnt that Parker was to be executed next day: she sat
up, in a state of unspeakable wretchedness, the whole of that night, and
at four o'clock in the morning went to the river-side, to hire a boat to
take her to the Sandwich, that she might at least bid her poor husband
farewell. Her feelings had been deeply agonised by hearing every person
she met talking on the subject of her distress, and now, the first
waterman to whom she spoke exclaimed, "No! I cannot take one passenger.
The brave Admiral Parker is to die to-day, and I will get any sum I
choose to ask for a party." Finally, the wretched wife was glad to go on
board a Sheerness market-boat, but no boat was allowed to come alongside
the Sandwich. In her desperation she called on Parker by name, and
prevailed on the boat-people, by the mere spectacle of her suffering,
to attempt to go nearer, when they were stopped by a sentinel
threatening to fire at them. As the hour drew nigh, she saw her husband
appear on deck between two clergymen. She called on him, and he heard
her voice, for he exclaimed, "There is my dear wife from Scotland."
Immediately afterwards, she fell back in a state of insensibility, and
did not recover till some time after she was taken ashore. By this time
all was over, but the poor woman could not believe it so. She hired
another boat, and again reached the Sandwich. Her exclamation from the
boat must have startled all who heard it. "Pass the word," she cried, in
her delusion, "for Richard Parker!" The truth was now told to her, and
she was further informed that his body had just been taken ashore for
burial. She immediately caused herself to be rowed ashore again, and
proceeded to the churchyard, but found the ceremony over, and the gate
locked. She then went to the admiral and sought the key, which was
refused to her. Excited almost to madness by the information that the
surgeons would probably disinter the body that night, she waited around
the churchyard till dusk, and then, clambering over the wall, readily
found her husband's grave. The shell was not buried deep, and she was
not long in scraping away the loose earth that intervened between her
and the object of her search. She got the lid removed, and then she
clasped the cold hand of her husband in her own!
Her determination to possess the body aroused the widow from the
enjoyment of this melancholy pleasure. She left the churchyard, and
communicated her situation to two women, who, in their turn, got several
men to undertake the task of lifting the body. This was accomplished
successfully, and at three o'clock in the morning, the shell containing
the corpse was placed in a van, and conveyed to Rochester, where, for
the sum of six guineas, Mrs. Parker procured another waggon to carry it
to London. On the road they met hundreds of persons all inquiring about
and talking of the fate of "Admiral Parker." At eleven P.M. the van
reached London; but here the poor widow had no private house or friends
to go to, and was obliged to stop at the Hoop and Horse-Shoe on
Tower-Hill, which was full of people. Mrs. Parker got the body into her
room, and sat down beside it; but the secret could not long be kept in
such a place, more particularly as the news of the exhumation had been
brought by express that day to London. A great crowd, by and bye,
assembled about the house, anxious to see the body of Parker, which,
however, the widow would not permit. The Lord Mayor heard of the affair,
and came to ask the widow what she intended to do with her husband's
remains. She replied, "To inter them decently at Exeter or in Scotland."
The Lord Mayor said that the body would not be taken from her, but
prevailed on her to have it decently buried in London. Arrangements were
made with this view, and finally the corpse of the unfortunate Parker
was inhumed in Whitechapel churchyard; although not until it had to be
removed to Aldgate workhouse, on account of the crowds attracted by it,
and which caused some fears lest "Admiral Parker's remains should create
a civil war." After the closing ceremony was over, Mrs. Parker, who had
in person seen her husband consigned to the grave, gave a certificate
that all had been done to her satisfaction. But, though strictly
questioned as to the parties who had aided her in the disinterment, she
firmly refused to disclose their names.
Parker, as has been said, made a will, leaving to his wife a small
property on which he had claims near Exeter. This she enjoyed for a
number of years, but ultimately her rights, whether erroneously or not,
were decided to be invalid, and she was deprived of the pittance which
had formed her maintenance. She was thrown into great distress, and was
compelled to solicit assistance from the charitable, having become
nearly if not entirely blind. The late King William gave her at one time
10_l._, and at another 20_l._ In 1836, the forlorn and miserable
condition of poor Parker's widow was made known to the London
magistrates, and a temporary refuge was provided for her. But temporary
assistance was of little avail to one whose physical infirmities
rendered her incapable any longer of helping herself, and again her
miserable condition came under the cognizance of the public authorities.
An appeal to the charitable has recently been made, by a portion of the
daily press, in her favour, but with what success we are unable to say.
She is now seventy years of age, blind, and friendless. Time and
misfortune have not quenched her affection for the partner of her early
days. Of him she yet speaks with all the enthusiasm of youthful
affection, and still mourns his fate.
MARIA THERESA PHIPOE, _alias_ MARY BENSON
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
We do not recollect ever to have seen the case of any woman who has
exhibited so much masculine determination as Mrs. Phipoe. She was twice
tried at the Old Bailey upon charges equally atrocious, and each equally
exhibiting the ferocity of her disposition.
In the first case, the indictment charged that she had feloniously
assaulted Mr. John Cortois, with intent to kill and murder him. Her
trial came on at the Old Bailey in the month of January 1795, when it
was proved in evidence that the prisoner was a person of abandoned
character, and that she kept a house, where she was in the habit of
receiving visits of a certain character from gentlemen. Among her other
patrons was Mr. John Cortois, a gentleman of considerable property; and
it appears that Mr. Cortois having called upon her one evening, he was
alarmed at finding himself suddenly seized from behind by his paramour,
and her servant, a woman almost as powerful as herself, by whom he was
speedily overpowered, and bound to his chair with strong cords. His
person being thus secured, Mrs. Phipoe immediately, with horrid
imprecations, demanded that he should sign a note or bill in her favour
for 2000_l._, threatening that, in the event of his refusal, she would
instantly cut his throat; and even enforcing her demands by holding a
knife at his throat in such a position as that on the smallest movement
on his part would have procured the infliction of a wound. In a state of
the utmost terror and alarm, he consented to attach his name to the
instrument which was produced, ready drawn by Mrs. Phipoe, and then he
imagined, as a matter of course, that he should be at liberty. But Mrs.
Phipoe by this time had begun to consider the possibility of his
preventing the negotiation of the note, and determining that "Dead men
tell no tales," she had made up her mind that he should have no
opportunity of disclosing the means by which it had been obtained. For
this diabolical purpose, she now made a violent attack upon him with a
knife, and wounded him in many places; but Mr. Cortois, becoming
desperate in his turn, burst the bonds by which he was confined with a
violent effort, and attacked his assailant. A struggle took place, in
which Mr. Cortois was again mastered by the united efforts of Mrs.
Phipoe and her servant; and then a choice was tendered to him whether he
would die by poison, by being shot, or by the knife which Mrs. Phipoe
brandished in a threatening manner over his head. The unfortunate
gentleman was now much weakened by loss of blood, and was almost
prevented from opposing the further violence of his demoniac assailants,
when, luckily, the cries which he had raised brought him assistance in
the shape of a watchman, through whose instrumentality Mrs. Phipoe was
secured.
Upon this testimony a verdict of guilty was returned; but a point of law
being subsequently raised in favour of the prisoner, it was declared
that the judgment must be arrested.
Mrs. Phipoe was, however, subsequently, on the 23rd of May, indicted for
the common assault upon Mr. Cortois, and a verdict of guilty having been
a second time returned, she was subjected to twelve months' imprisonment
in Newgate.
A year had scarcely elapsed after the termination of the period of her
incarceration, before Mrs. Phipoe, or Mrs. Benson, as she was now
called, was again in custody on a charge of murder.
She was indicted on the 8th of December 1797, for the wilful murder of
Mary Cox; and it appeared that at the time of the commission of this
offence, the prisoner lived in lodgings in Garden-street, St. George's
in the East. On the night of the murder, Mrs. Cox called upon her; but
within a short time after she had entered her room, a scuffle was heard,
followed by loud groans. The mistress of the house demanded to know the
cause of the disturbance, but the prisoner declared that it was only
Mrs. Cox in a fit. The door being opened, however, Mrs. Benson was
observed to be covered with blood, and Mrs. Cox was found lying on the
ground desperately wounded. Two persons immediately went for a doctor,
while a constable was also sent for, by whom the prisoner was taken into
custody. Mrs. Cox, on being examined, was found to have sustained some
severe wounds, from which there was no prospect of her recovering; and
she pointed out Mrs. Benson as the person by whom they had been
inflicted. A large clasp-knife, covered with blood, was found on the
table in the room; and by its side lay a part of a finger; and on Mrs.
Benson being questioned, she admitted that that was the knife with which
"she had done the woman's business;" and said that her own finger had
been cut off in the scuffle. Mrs. Cox subsequently died in the hospital,
from the effects of the stabs she had received, having previously made a
declaration before a magistrate as to the circumstances attending her
murder. She said that having purchased a gold watch of the prisoner for
11_l._, she asked that a coffee-cup, which she pointed out, might be
given to her into the bargain. The prisoner bade her take it; but on her
raising her hand to remove it from the shelf, she received a stab in the
neck, which was followed by many others in the same place and on
different parts of her body. The prisoner subsequently got her on the
bed, and swore that she would murder her outright, that she should not
tell her own tale; but she was interrupted by the entrance of the
landlady.
The prisoner in her defence declared that Mrs. Cox had abused her, and
had violently wounded her, so as to cut off part of her finger before
she offered any violence to her; but that then, being maddened with pain
and rage, she admitted she had attacked her. She knew nothing of what
subsequently occurred, until she was found by her landlady in her own
room covered with blood.
The jury having returned a verdict that the prisoner was guilty, she
behaved with great hardihood, frequently interrupting the learned judge
(Mr. Baron Perryn) in his observations, while condemning her to death.
Sentence having been passed, however, that she should be hanged and
subsequently dissected, she was removed from the bar, and then she
appeared to be fully sensible of her guilt, and of the nature of her
present position.
She was executed before Newgate, December the 11th, 1797; and after
hanging an hour in the view of a great number of spectators, one-third
of whom were females, the body was cut down, and delivered to the
surgeons for dissection.
In her last moments she confessed the justice of her sentence, but
denied having cut off her own finger, saying it was done in the scuffle
with the woman she murdered. She owned to have been guilty of many
enormities, and attributed her frequent gusts of passion to the use of
laudanum.
Her body was publicly exhibited in a place built for the purpose in the
Old Bailey.
JAMES O'COIGLEY, _alias_ FAVEY.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
James O'Coigley was indicted at Maidstone, on the 21st of May 1798, for
high treason. The indictment was read by Mr. Knapp, who afterwards
stated the charges it contained in a summary manner. He said there were
three distinct species of treason charged in the indictment and seven
overt acts. The first treason was compassing and imagining the death of
the king; the second, adhering to his enemies; the third, compassing and
imagining, inventing, devising and intending, to move and stir certain
foreigners and strangers, that is to say, the persons exercising the
powers of government in France, to invade this kingdom. The first overt
act was sending intelligence to the enemy; the other overt acts were
attempts to hire vessels, and to leave the kingdom.
At the trial, which lasted during the whole of two days, an immense body
of evidence was produced in support of the charges preferred against the
prisoner. A pocket-book, however, which had been found in his
great-coat, and in which was a letter addressed to the Executive
Directory of France, afforded conclusive evidence of his guilt.
Upon his being called upon for his defence, he addressed the jury in the
following terms:--
"It is impossible for me to prove a negative; but it is a duty I owe to
you, and to myself, solemnly to declare that I never was the bearer of
any message or paper of this kind to France in the course of my life.
That paper is not mine: it never belonged to me. It states that it was
to be carried by the bearer of the last: this is something which might
have been proved, but it is impossible for me to prove a negative. There
is also in this paper an allusion to secret committees and political
societies. I declare that I never attended any political society
whatever. With these considerations I consign my life to your justice;
not doubting but that you will conduct yourselves as English jurymen
ever do, and that your verdict will be such as shall receive the
approbation of your own conscience, your country, and your God."
The jury, after about half-an-hour's consideration, found O'Coigley
Guilty.
Mr. Justice Buller, in an address to the prisoner, which he read from a
written paper previously to his passing the sentence, observed that he
had been clearly convicted of the most atrocious crime which could be
committed in any country--that of meditating the destruction of a
sovereign, who was one of the best, the most just, upright, and amiable
of princes that ever graced a throne; and he could not conceive what
were the motives which could actuate any man even to wish for the death
of one who had ever been the father of his people.
The prisoner was also found guilty of conspiring to overturn the
constitution of these kingdoms--a constitution which, from the
experiment of years, had been found to be the best calculated of any
that ever existed in the world to ensure the liberty, security, and
happiness of the people who lived under it.
These atrocious crimes became still greater from the manner in which
they were intended to be perpetrated--that of inviting a foreign enemy
to come and invade and conquer these countries.
Those people who had fancied such an event to be a desirable one ought
to think seriously what the consequences of it would be, provided it was
possible to be accomplished. Did they suppose that (desperate as their
present situation might be) their condition would be bettered by having
their country put into the possession of people who were holding out the
delusive hopes of what they call liberty to other nations? Could such
persons hope that they themselves should enjoy liberty, even supposing
the conquerors to have enjoyed as free a constitution as any in the
world? No; they would become suspected, be despised, and destroyed by
them.
A celebrated writer (Montesquieu) very justly observed upon this
subject, that a country conquered by a democratic nation always enjoyed
less liberty, was more miserable, and more enslaved, than if that
country happened to have been conquered by a nation whose government was
monarchical. But if there was any illustration of this observation
wanting, one had only to look to the conduct of the French at this
moment towards Holland, Italy, Switzerland, and every other country they
had conquered. His lordship believed that the prisoner might have been
actuated by motives similar to those which used formerly to induce many
people to think that the killing of men of a different religion would
give them a claim to canonization. But, though the motives might be
similar, the subjects connected with them were very different. In the
present times he did not believe that any person entertained such
sentiments about religion. On the contrary, he was sorry to find that
religion was too much neglected, and that the peace and tranquillity of
numbers of people were destroyed in consequence of their having lost all
belief of the existence of a Divine Providence, and totally abandoned
all hopes of a future state. He was afraid that the prisoner had been
infected with this infidelity; and if he was, he (the judge) prayed that
the Almighty God, in his infinite mercy and goodness, would change his
heart, and cause him to repent of his sins.
His lordship then, in a solemn and awful manner, passed the following
sentence:--
"That the prisoner be taken from the bar to prison, and from thence to
the place of execution; there to be hanged, but not until he be dead, to
be cut down while yet alive, and then to have his heart and bowels taken
out and burnt before his face; his head to be severed from his body, and
his body to be divided into four quarters."
Mr. O'Coigley listened to this address and sentence with attention, but
at the same time with the greatest coolness. He bowed his head when the
judge concluded, his countenance expressing at once resignation and
firmness.
Thursday, 7th June, being fixed upon for the execution, on the previous
day, the unhappy prisoner received an intimation to that effect without
emotion. He spent the evening very calmly. He had but one thing, he
said, on his mind which created any anxiety; that was, an apprehension
that he might be misrepresented after his death. He was anxious to be
faithfully reported, and that was all he wanted. On Thursday, at a
quarter past eleven o'clock, O'Coigley left the jail. He was dressed in
black; his hair was cropped and powdered, his shirt-collar open, and he
wore no neckcloth. His elbows were tied behind with ropes, and over his
shoulders was the rope with which he was to be executed. He stepped into
the hurdle; and on his sitting down, a chain was put round his waist to
fasten him. The executioner sat opposite to him. The cavalcade was well
guarded by a large body of the Kent Volunteers; and throughout the
journey to Pennenden Heath, the prisoner was engaged in reading from a
book of devotions.
Upon their arrival at the place of execution, the military formed a
square. The prisoner being unchained, he rose up and stood in the
hurdle, and read two prayers, one of them aloud in Latin. He then took
out of his pocket an orange, and also a penknife; but being unable to
cut the orange, from his hands being bound, he gave it to a friend, whom
he beckoned to come near him, saying, "Open this orange with my
penknife; it has been said they would not trust me with a penknife, lest
I should cut my throat; but they little knew that I would not deprive
myself of the glory of dying in this way." He desired his friend to keep
the penknife for his sake, and to hold the orange, several pieces of
which he ate.
After finishing his devotions, the clergyman gave him absolution; and
having ascended the platform, he bid farewell to the jailor, thanking
him for the many civilities he had shown him. On his being tied up to
the gallows, he made the following speech:--
"I shall only here solemnly declare, that I am innocent of the charge
for which I suffer. I never was in my life the bearer of any letter, or
other paper or message, printed, written, or verbal, to the Directory of
France, nor to any person on their behalf; neither was I ever a member
of the London Corresponding Society, or of any other political society
in Great Britain; nor did I attend any of their meetings, public or
private, so help me God! I know not whether I shall be believed here in
what I say, but I am sure I shall be believed in the world to come. It
can scarcely be supposed that one like me, in this situation, going to
eternity, before the most awful tribunal, would die with a falsehood in
his mouth; and I do declare, by the hopes I confidently feel of
salvation and happiness in a future state, that my life is falsely and
maliciously taken away by corrupt and base perjury, in some cases
proceeding from mistake, no doubt, but in others from design. Almighty
God, forgive all my enemies. I beg of you to pray that God will grant me
grace--for I have many sins to answer for; but they are the sins of my
private life, and not the charge for which I now die. (Raising his
voice.) Lord have mercy on me, and receive my soul."
A white nightcap was then drawn over his face, and he made a signal by
dropping a handkerchief. The board was then let down, and he remained
suspended for twelve or thirteen minutes. Upon his being taken down, his
head was taken off by a surgeon, and the executioner held it up to the
populace, saying "This is the head of a traitor." Both head and body
were then put into a shell, and buried at the foot of the gallows.
GEORGE WALDRON, _alias_ BARRINGTON.
TRANSPORTED FOR PICKING POCKETS.
This notorious offender was born of decent parents in the year 1755, in
the town of Maynooth, county Kildare, Ireland. His father, whose name
was Waldron, was a working silversmith; and his mother followed the
occupation of mantua-maker, and occasionally joined with it the
profession of a midwife. Owing to a law-suit in which they were engaged
with a relative, for the recovery of a legacy to which they conceived
themselves entitled, their circumstances were by no means affluent. But
although they were unable to procure for their son the advantages of a
superior education, they had him instructed at an early age in reading
and writing; and afterwards, through the bounty of a medical gentleman
in the neighbourhood, he was taught the principles of arithmetic, and
the elements of geography and English grammar.
When he had entered his sixteenth year, he had the good fortune to
attract the notice of a dignitary of the Church of Ireland, through
whose interest he was placed at a free grammar-school in the Irish
capital, where his patron proposed he should fit himself for the
University; and in order that he might be able to make an appearance
equal to that of the youths with whom he was to associate, his generous
protector supplied him with money and every other necessary that could
render his situation at school not only comfortable, but respectable.
These advantages he enjoyed but a short time, for the impetuosity of his
passions hurried him into an action by which he lost his patron's favour
for ever. When he had been about half a year at the grammar-school, he
was involved in a quarrel with a lad much older and stronger than
himself. Some blows passed, in which George suffered considerably; but
in order to be revenged, he stabbed his antagonist with a penknife; and
had he not been prevented, would probably have murdered him. For this
atrocious offence the discipline of the house was inflicted with proper
severity, which irritated the youth to such a degree, that he formed the
resolution of abandoning not only the school, but also his family and
friends. His plan of escape was no sooner formed than it was carried
into execution; but before his departure he found means to steal ten or
twelve guineas from the master, and a gold repeating-watch from his
sister. With this booty he safely effected his escape from the
school-house in the middle of a still in the month of May 1771; and
pursuing the great north road from Dublin all that night and the next
day, he arrived late in the evening at Drogheda without interruption.
Having reached this town, where he thought that he should be safe from
the chances of pursuit and discovery, by a species of forced march,
without rest or refreshment, he entered a small public-house in order to
procure the one and the other; but the following morning introduced to
his notice a band of strolling players, whose acquaintance he
immediately made. A friendship commenced under such unfavourable
circumstances, it might be thought would scarcely last many days, but it
was nevertheless maintained through choice and affection for several
years; and it appears that whilst engaged as a member of the company, he
picked up much information which was exceedingly useful to him in his
subsequent career.
Price, the manager of the company, having lived some time in London, in
the capacity of clerk to a pettifogging attorney, was intimately
acquainted with the town, and all the arts of fraud, deception, or
violence, which are practised in it by the most unprincipled classes to
procure money. For indulging these vicious propensities, he subjected
himself to the lash of the law, and was at this time an involuntary
exile in Ireland till the expiration of the term for which he was to be
transported; and this man soon became the confidant and counsellor of
the young fugitive. By his advice he renounced his paternal name,
assumed that of Barrington, and entered into the company; and in the
course of four days he became so well initiated in the mysteries of his
profession as to be able to perform the part of Jaffier in "Venice
Preserved," without the aid of a prompter, in a crowded barn in the
neighbourhood of Drogheda with the most flattering demonstrations of
applause.
His success, however, was by far too great to render it at all desirable
that he should continue his performances so near the scene of his late
depredations; and in obedience to the dictates of prudence, lest our
hero might be called upon to make his last appearance on a "stage"
fitted up with a drop, before his character as a player was fully
established, it was resolved that the whole company should, without
delay, move northwards with all speed, so as to get out of the way, with
the anticipation of their being able to reach sixty or eighty miles from
Dublin without any long bait. In order to carry this resolution into
effect, however, it was recollected that some means must be found to
feed the strollers, as the produce of their late performances was not so
weighty as to require any great exertion on the part of the treasurer to
squeeze it into his waistcoat pocket; and the gold repeater being
remembered, it was immediately given up by our hero, _pro bono publico_,
with a degree of liberality which procured for him a burst of applause
from his companions in the search of histrionic fame. The watch being
disposed off, its proceeds were equally divided, and the party set out
on its march; but when they arrived at Londonderry, it was found that
the Belvidera of the company had surrendered her heart to the new
Jaffier. A reciprocal attachment was found to exist, and the connexion
was only dissolved by the death of the lady. It appears that she was the
daughter of a respectable tradesman at Coventry; and having eloped from
her father's house, at the age of sixteen years, with a lieutenant of
marines, conducted by him to Dublin, and there, in less than three
months, was infamously abandoned to all the horrors of penury and want.
Reduced to this extremity, she readily embraced a proposal made to her
by Price, to join his company, as her only resource; and being young and
beautiful, it is not extraordinary that she should have excited a flame
in the bosom of her new admirer. She was unfortunately drowned, in her
eighteenth year, in crossing the Boyne, through the negligence of the
ferryman.
To return, however, to the Company. The money which had been raised was
found to be quite expended on their arrival at Londonderry, and some
means, it was determined, must be found to recruit their bank. In this
dilemma, Price insinuated to our adventurer that a young man of his
address and appearance might easily introduce himself into the public
places, to which the merchants and dealers of the town resorted, and
that he might, without difficulty, find opportunities of picking their
pockets, and escaping unseen and undiscovered. The idea pleased
Barrington, and the fair coming on, offered a favourable juncture at
which to commence his new profession. The design was carried into
execution in the course of the ensuing day with very great success,
their acquisitions amounting to about forty guineas in cash, and one
hundred and fifty pounds in Bank notes. The circumstance, it may readily
be supposed, excited no small alarm among the honest traders, on its
becoming generally known that robberies to so large an amount had been
effected; but the players remaining in the town, suspicion did not rest
upon them, and the depredation was put down to the score of some of the
ordinary scamps who then, as well as now, followed the fairs, in Ireland
and England. It was resolved, however, that the company should quit
Derry, and after having played a few nights with more applause than
profit, they removed to Ballyshannon, where our hero may be said to have
commenced the business of a professed pickpocket in the summer of the
year 1771, in the 16th year of his age.
At Ballyshannon he passed the autumn and winter of 1771 with the company
to which he belonged, playing two days in the week, and picking pockets
whenever opportunity offered; and this business, though attended with
some danger and certain infamy, he found so much more lucrative than
that of the theatre, where his fame and his proficiency by no means kept
pace with the expectations raised by his first appearance, that he
determined to quit the stage.
He now commenced what is called a "gentleman pickpocket," by affecting
the airs and importance of a man of fashion; but he was so much alarmed
at the detection and conviction of his preceptor, Price (who was
sentenced to transportation for seven years), that he hastened to
Dublin, where he practised his pilfering art during dark evenings only.
He soon made his own country too hot to hold him, for at one of the
races in the county of Carlow he was detected picking the pocket of a
nobleman; but, upon restoring the property, his lordship declined any
prosecution, and he therefore left Ireland, and for the first time
appeared in England in 1773. On his first visit to Ranelagh with a
party, he quitted his friends, and picked the pockets of the Duke of
Leinster and Sir William Draper of a considerable sum; and he also took
from a lady a watch, with all which he got off undiscovered, and
rejoined his friends.
In 1775 he visited the most celebrated watering-places, particularly
Bath; and, being supposed to be a gentleman of fortune and family, he
was noticed by persons of the first distinction. On his return to London
he formed a connexion with one Lowe, and became a most daring
pickpocket. He went to court on the queen's birthday, as a clergyman,
and not only picked several pockets, but found means to deprive a
nobleman of his diamond order, and retired from the palace without
suspicion.
In the course of the winter of 1775 the celebrated Russian Prince Orloff
visited England. The various circumstances of his history, the high
favour he enjoyed at the court of his sovereign, and the valuable
presents he had received from her, were frequently mentioned in the
public prints. Among the rest, a gold snuff-box, set with brilliants,
and valued at the enormous sum of thirty thousand pounds, particularly
attracted the attention of Barrington. It was not long before he formed
a plan for obtaining possession of it. A favourable opportunity one
night presenting itself at Covent-garden Theatre, he contrived to get
near the prince, and found means to convey the precious trinket out of
his excellency's waistcoat pocket into his own. This operation, however,
was not performed with such dexterity as to escape detection. The prince
felt the attack so impudently made upon him, and immediately seized the
depredator by the collar. During the confusion that ensued, Barrington
slipped the box into the hand of the owner, who was doubtless well
pleased at having recovered it so easily; but the delinquent was,
nevertheless, secured, and committed to Tothill-fields Bridewell,
previous to his examination at Bow-street for the offence. On this
occasion he represented himself as belonging to an affluent and
respectable family in Ireland, adding that he had been educated for the
medical profession, and had come to London to improve himself in it; and
having accompanied this plausible representation with many tears, and
seeming to rest so much on his being an unfortunate gentleman rather
than a guilty culprit, Prince Orloff declined to prosecute, and he was
dismissed by the magistrate, with some wholesome admonition.
This adventure, however, had no effect with our hero. He had gone too
far to recede, and he was compelled to continue his depredations upon
the public, in order to obtain a living.
In pursuit of his business, it was his custom to attend the sittings of
the two Houses of Parliament; but being one day in the House of Peers,
he was recognised by a stranger who was present, and turned out by one
of the ushers, who was made acquainted with his character. A threat of
vengeance was heard to slip from the lips of the thief, and he was taken
into custody, and being unable to give security for his future good
behaviour, he was committed to Tothill-fields Bridewell, and remained
there during a considerable period of time. On his discharge, his only
refuge was his old profession: but he had not pursued it long before he
was detected in picking the pocket of a woman in Drury-lane Theatre, for
which he was indicted and convicted at the Old Bailey in the year 1777,
and was sentenced to three years' hard labour on board the hulks at
Woolwich. The excellence of his deportment there, however, procured for
him a mitigation of his punishment, and at the termination of a year he
was set at liberty, in obedience to the recommendation of the
superintendants of his gang.
Within six months after his release, he was detected in picking the
pocket of a lady during divine service in St. Sepulchre's church, and
being convicted of this offence, he was again sentenced to hard labour
on the river; but for a period of five years, and in pursuance of his
sentence, he was removed to the hulks a second time, in the year 1778.
During this second confinement, he either found that his sufferings were
more severe or his situation more desperate than in his former
imprisonment, and, wearied out with labour and disgusted with life, he
determined to commit suicide. With this view he stabbed himself in the
breast with a penknife; but the wound, though deep and dangerous, did
not prove mortal, and it healed slowly, although it left the unfortunate
prisoner in a state of the greatest weakness. While he was in this
state, he had the good fortune to attract the attention of a gentleman
of rank, who happened to visit the hulks for the purpose of inquiring
into the state of the convicts, and who, commiserating his wretched
plight, exerted his influence and procured for him a pardon, on
condition of his quitting the kingdom. The condition was eagerly
accepted, and having been provided with money by his benefactor, he
proceeded at once to Dublin.
He had scarcely arrived in this city, however, before he was apprehended
on a charge of picking the pocket of a nobleman of his gold watch and
money at a theatre; but the evidence being defective, he was acquitted
and discharged. Upon his defence to this charge he displayed
considerable powers of oratory, and having been addressed by the Judge
in terms of suitable admonition, he spoke with great animation, and
enlarged upon what he termed the force of prejudice, insinuating that
the calumnies which, he contended, had been uttered against him in
England, had followed him to his native country.
He then quitted the bar, and as soon as he had obtained his liberty, he
deemed it prudent to retire from Dublin, and he proceeded to Edinburgh.
Suspicions were, however, soon entertained of his character there, and,
braving all danger, he returned to London, and there frequented the
theatres, the Opera House, Pantheon, and other places of public resort,
but was at length taken into custody. Having been acquitted for want of
evidence of the charge brought against him, he was unexpectedly detained
for having returned to England in violation of the condition on which
his majesty was pleased to grant him a remission of his punishment, and
was accordingly confined in Newgate during the remainder of the time
that he was originally to have served on the river Thames.
On the expiration of his captivity he returned to his former practices,
but with greater caution: but in spite of all his cares, he was at
length apprehended for picking the pocket of Mr. Le Mesurier, at
Drury-lane playhouse, but effected his escape from the constable; and
while the lawyers were outlawing him, and the constables endeavouring to
take him, he evaded detection by travelling in various disguises and
characters through the northern counties of the kingdom.
The appearances of a clergyman, a quack doctor, and a rider or
traveller, were in turn assumed; but going to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, he
was secured and removed to London by a writ of habeas corpus. He now
employed counsel, and had the outlawry against him reversed; and being
then tried for stealing Mr. Le Mesurier's purse, was acquitted in
consequence of the absence of a material witness.
Being once more enlarged, he had the presumption to visit Dublin again,
where having been soon suspected, he with difficulty escaped to
England; but, soon after his arrival, he was taken into custody for
picking the pocket of Henry Hare Townsend, Esq. at Epsom Races. For this
he was tried at the Old Bailey, September 1, 1798, and found guilty,
notwithstanding he made an ingenious defence. On September 22d the
Recorder pronounced the sentence of transportation on him for seven
years, when Barrington addressed the Court to the following effect:--
"My Lord,--I have a great deal to say in extenuation of the cause for
which I now stand convicted at this bar; but, upon consideration, I will
not arrest the attention of the honourable Court too long. Among the
extraordinary vicissitudes incident to human nature, it is the peculiar
and unfortunate lot of some devoted persons to have their best wishes,
and their most earnest endeavours to deserve the good opinion of the
most respectable part of society, entirely frustrated. Whatever they can
say or whatever they can do, every word and its meaning, every action
and its motive, is represented in an unfavourable light, and is
distorted from the real intention of the speaker or the actor. That this
has been my unhappy fate, does not seem to stand in need of any
confirmation. Every effort to deserve well of mankind, and my heart bore
witness to its rectitude, has been thwarted by such measures as those,
and consequently has been rendered abortive. Many of the circumstances
of my life I can, without any violation of truth, declare to have,
therefore, happened absolutely in spite of myself. The world, my lord,
has given me credit for abilities, indeed, much greater than I possess,
and therefore much more than I deserved; but I have never found any kind
hand to foster these abilities. I might ask, where was the generous and
powerful hand that was ever stretched forth to rescue George Barrington
from infamy? In an age like this, which, in several respects, is so
justly famed for liberal sentiments, it was my severe lot that no
noble-minded gentleman stepped forward, and said to me, 'Barrington, you
are possessed of talents which may be useful to society. I feel for your
situation; and as long as you act the part of a good citizen, I will be
your protector: you will then have time and opportunity to rescue
yourself from the obloquy of your former conduct.' Alas, my Lord, George
Barrington never had the supreme felicity of having such comfort
administered to his wounded spirit. As matters have unfortunately turned
out, the die is cast,--and as it is, I bend resigned to my fate, without
one murmur or complaint."
Having concluded this address, rendered more forcible by his pathetic
manner, he left the bar with a respectful bow, and thus retired from
public life in Europe, to act his part in a new hemisphere.
From the period of his conviction Barrington's conduct was such as to
retrieve his character from the disgrace with which he had loaded it
during the former portion of his life. Soon after the ship in which he,
with many other culprits, embarked for Botany Bay, had left England, a
circumstance occurred which may justly be asserted to have laid the
foundation of his subsequent good fortune.
The humanity of the captain had induced him to release many of the
convicts who were in a weakly state from their irons, and to permit them
alternately, ten at a time, to walk upon deck. Two of them, who were
Americans, formed the design of seizing the ship, and prevailed on the
majority of their comrades to enter into the plot. It was agreed, that
on the first favourable opportunity, part of those who were on deck
should force the arm-chest, overpower the sentinels, and then give a
signal for those below to join them. This design was planned with great
secrecy, and executed with equal spirit and audacity. One day, the
captain and most of the officers being below, Barrington, who was the
only man on deck except the man at the helm, heard a noise on the
main-deck, and going forward to ascertain its cause, was met by one of
the Americans and another convict, who presented a sabre at his breast,
which they had just wrenched from one of the sentinels, and commanded
him instantly to stop, and to make no noise. The sentinel at the moment
came up, and with a pistol which he had just snapped at the villain's
head, knocked up the weapon; and Barrington, seizing the opportunity,
snatched up a hand-spike, and felled his assailant to the ground. The
man at the helm was a witness to this scene of violence, and gave the
alarm, while Barrington meanwhile kept his situation, guarding the
passage of the quarter-deck. His antagonists now retreated a few paces,
but, being joined by many others, were rushing upon him, when the
discharge of a blunderbuss from behind our hero wounded several, and
they retreated; and Barrington being by this time aided by the captain
and the rest of the officers, the mutineers were in a few minutes driven
below. An attempt of this kind required the most exemplary punishment;
and, accordingly, two of the ringleaders were immediately hanged at the
yard-arm, and several others severely flogged.
Order being restored, the captain paid Barrington many handsome
compliments for his conduct, to which he attributed the salvation of the
ship, promised him a recompense for his services, and directed his
steward to supply him with everything he wanted during the voyage.
Accordingly, on the arrival of the ship at the Cape of Good Hope, he
gave Barrington a draft on a merchant there for one hundred dollars,
with permission to go on shore as often as he pleased. Nor was this all;
for, when they reached the place of their final destination, the captain
made such a favourable report of Barrington's character and merits to
the governor of Port Jackson, that he immediately appointed him
superintendant of convicts at a kind of colony from the parent
settlement, called Paramatta, where a convenient habitation was assigned
him.
Barrington's conduct in this situation was marked by such undeviating
rectitude as not only to obtain him the esteem of the governor and other
officers, but also to procure him the appointment of high constable of
Paramatta, with a salary of fifty pounds a-year; on which occasion the
governor complimented him on the faithful discharge of his duty, which
he considered as effacing his former misconduct.
In this situation he continued some time, but in 1801 he was a mere
living skeleton; and, having lost the use of his intellectual faculties,
had retired on a small pension. He died in 1804, a melancholy instance
of perverted talents; and it is supposed that his mental imbecility was
brought on by remorse and conscious sensibility, operating on a mind
capable of better things.
JAMES HADFIELD.
TRIED FOR HIGH TREASON, IN SHOOTING AT THE KING.
The case of this unfortunate man has attracted universal attention, but
its circumstances exhibit only that the most lamentable insanity existed
in the mind of the prisoner.
The trial of the wretched man came on in the Court of King's Bench, on
the 26th June, 1800, when the prisoner was arraigned upon an indictment,
which charged him with shooting at the King in Drury-Lane Theatre on the
15th May preceding.
The indictment having been read, the prisoner pleaded Not Guilty, and
the Attorney-general then opened the case against him.
Mr. Joseph Craig was the first witness examined. He deposed, that he was
a musician at Drury-Lane Theatre, and was there on the night of his
Majesty honouring the performance with his presence. His attention was
suddenly drawn to the prisoner, whose figure he saw elevated above the
rest; his right hand being extended with a pistol pointed towards his
Majesty. The pistol was immediately discharged, and then it fell down
instantly. Several persons seized the prisoner at once, and he assisted
in pulling him over the rails, and in taking him into the music room.
Mr. Sheridan and the Duke of York afterwards entered the room, when the
prisoner said, "God bless your Royal Highness! I like you very well, you
are a good fellow."
Other witnesses deposed to the same effect; and stated, in addition,
that they had remarked that the prisoner was a pitiful object before the
dreadful attempt which he made. The situation which the prisoner
selected was the best which he could have chosen for the object which he
had in view; he was observed to be agitated on the entrance of his
Majesty; and on his bowing a second time to the audience, the prisoner
raised his arm and fired. The pistol was picked up from the ground in
front of him, after he was taken into the music room.
Mr. Law, one of the counsel for the prosecution, here desired that the
Duke of York might be called; upon which the prisoner, in a paroxysm of
enthusiasm, cried out, "God bless the duke! I love him." The Court,
seeing his agitation, immediately gave directions that he should be
permitted to sit down; and Mr. Kirby, the keeper of Newgate, (who all
the time sat next to him,) told him he had permission of the Court to
sit down, which he did, and remained composed during the remainder of
the trial.
The Duke of York then stated, that he was present at the examination; he
remarked at the time that he knew the prisoner, and that he had been one
of his orderly men. The prisoner said, "He knew his own life was
forfeited; he regretted the fate of his wife only; he would be only two
days longer from his wife;" and he added, "The worst is not come yet."
His royal highness said the prisoner appeared to be perfectly collected.
After his majesty had retired, his royal highness directed a search to
be made in the king's box, when a hole was discovered, evidently made by
the impression of a shot, fourteen inches from his majesty's head. It
had perforated the pillar. In searching below, some slugs were found;
and by the smell, it appeared that they had been recently fired off.
Mr. Erskine asked his royal highness if the must loyal and brave men
were not usually selected to be the orderly men. His royal highness
answered, that the most tried and trusty men were appointed orderly men.
When the prisoner was asked what could induce him to commit so atrocious
an act, he said he was tired of life, and thought he should have been
killed.
The evidence for the prosecution being closed, Mr. Erskine addressed the
jury at considerable length.
Major Ryan, of the 15th light dragoons, in which the prisoner was a
private, Hercules M'Gill, private in the same regiment, and John Lane,
of the Guards, all knew the prisoner, and deposed to his having been
guilty of different acts of insanity.
Mr. Cline, surgeon; Dr. Crichton, physician; and Dr. Letherne, surgeon
to the 15th regiment, as professional gentlemen, gave testimony to their
belief of the prisoner's insanity.
Captain Wilson and Christopher Lawton, of the 15th light dragoons; David
Hadfield, brother to the prisoner; Mary Gore, sister-in-law to the
prisoner; Catharine Harrison, and Elizabeth Roberts, detailed different
acts of insanity, particularly on the day previous to and on which he
committed the crime for which he stood indicted: and the prisoner was
found by the jury to be insane, and was remanded to be dealt with
according to his Majesty's pleasure.
He was subsequently removed to Bedlam, where he remains.
Ravillac, who stabbed King Henry IV. of France, while in his coach, and
surrounded by his guards, was tortured to death in the following inhuman
manner:--
At the place of execution, his right hand, with which he gave the fatal
blow, was put into a furnace flaming with fire and brimstone, and there
consumed. His flesh was pulled from his bones with red-hot pincers;
boiling oil, resin, and brimstone, were poured upon the wounds, and
melted lead upon his navel. To close the scene of horror, four horses
were fastened to the four quarters of his body, which were torn asunder.
He declared to the last moment that he had no accomplices, and that the
only motive which impelled him to act the regicide was, because the king
tolerated two religions in France.
His parents were banished their country, never more to return, on pain
of immediate death; and his whole kindred, nay, every individual bearing
the name, were ordered to renounce it; so that the name of Ravillac
should never more be heard of in France.
RICHARD FERGUSON, _alias_ GALLOPING DICK.
HANGED FOR HIGHWAY ROBBERY.
The adventures of Galloping Dick are scarcely less notorious than those
of the celebrated Turpin, or the unfortunate Dick King, the "Gentleman
Highwayman."
Richard Ferguson was the son of a gentleman's valet, and was a native of
Hertfordshire. Having received some little education, he was at an early
age taken into employment in the establishment of his father's master
as a stable-boy. Being an active lad, and withal well versed in the
management of horses, he was temporarily employed as postilion during
the illness of the regular servant; but, being at length compelled to
return to his more humble duties of stable-boy, his pride could ill
brook the degradation; and he determined to look for higher employment.
A friend of his master was in want of a postilion, and young Dick
applied for the place. His qualifications were at once admitted, and he
was engaged, and immediately accompanied his new employer to London. His
habits were, at this time, of such a nature as to render him a favourite
with his master, and, by means of steadiness and perseverance, he
remained during a considerable period in the same service; but, being at
length discovered in a situation with one of the female servants which
left no doubt of his claims to a character for gallantry, he was
dismissed.
He remained out of place during a considerable period, and, resorting to
public-houses, he became acquainted with a number of persons of his own
condition, from whom he speedily acquired a knowledge of all the vices
fashionable among the party-coloured gentry. He, at length, was
compelled to accept employment in the service of a livery-stable keeper
in Piccadilly; but his master dying, he was again thrown upon the town,
though not altogether without provision, for he had so far gained his
master's good opinion, that he had left him a legacy of 50_l._
Dick was now the owner of a sum far greater than he had ever yet had the
good fortune to possess; and he determined to commence business in a new
line--that of gentleman. Purchasing mourning out of respect to his last
employer, he frequented the theatres, and while at Drury-lane he became
acquainted with a woman, his admiration of whose charms eventually,
though by indirect means, proved his ruin. At first, he was disposed to
imagine that she was a person of respectability, but, meeting with a
ready acquiescence in his request to be permitted to accompany her home,
he soon discovered the mistake into which he had fallen. Day after day
he visited his dulcinea, until he had disposed of all the cash he
possessed, and then he began to find, that there were others, whose
visits were more welcome than his. He, not unfrequently, met persons in
their way in or out of the house, with whose figures he became speedily
familiar, and an accident subsequently made him acquainted with the
nature of their avocations.
Finding that he was no longer welcome to the house of his lady, he
resolved now to endeavour to procure the means by which he hoped again
to secure her favour; and he accepted a situation as postilion at an inn
in Piccadilly.
In his drives round the metropolis, he not unfrequently saw his rivals
gaily dressed and mounted, but he was rather surprised one day, while on
the North Road, at receiving a sudden summons to stop from a man, whose
figure he fancied he recognised as that of one of them, but whose face
was covered with crape. He speedily obeyed the order which he had so
peremptorily received; and while the man who had called to him stood by
his side with a pistol at his head, another, similarly disguised,
galloped from a by-road to the chaise and demanded the money of its
occupant. A sudden gust of wind now enabled our hero to satisfy himself
of the truth of his surmises as to the highwayman near him, for the
crape being momentarily blown from his face, he at once recognised in
him one of the admirers of the lady of his affections, whom he
subsequently found to be Jerry Avershaw. He stared at the man, but some
persons at this moment appearing in view, the highwayman precipitately
rode off.
Avershaw, it appears, was no less uneasy at the discovery, which he knew
had been made, than Ferguson was astonished; and, pulling up with his
companion at a roadside inn, they gave directions, that Dick should be
introduced to them on his stopping there to water his horses, on his way
home with the return chaise. Upon his entry, an offer was immediately
made to him of a bribe, to prevent his discovering the haunts of the
thieves, and his acquiescence procured for him an invitation to sup with
the highwaymen on the same evening at their rendezvous in the Borough.
With the money our hero flew to his doxy, but the lady having now
discovered his situation declined to have anything more to say to him.
The chance, which had operated to deprive him of the society of the
lady, however, gained for him the companionship of her visitors; and,
meeting Avershaw at the house which he had appointed, he was received
with every mark of attention. A sumptuous supper was served, and a large
party having assembled, the night was spent in boisterous hilarity.
Ferguson was delighted with the society to which he was introduced, and
at once assented to a proposition, that he should become one of their
number--a sharer in their dangers and profits. In obedience to a
suggestion which was offered, it was determined, however, that he should
not yet be called upon to enter into active service, but that he should
furnish his associates with information as to the routes of the various
chaises which went from the inn where he was employed, so that they
might intercept them, and rob them. He pursued this diabolical plan with
so much success as frequently to obtain some share of very large
booties; but, at length, his connexion with the highwaymen being
suspected, he lost his place, and was compelled to take the road
himself. In this new employment, he was long remarked for the most
extraordinary success. Of a bold and daring disposition, he defied
danger. His skill in horses was found to be of the greatest importance
to him; and the headlong pace at which he would travel, when in pursuit
of an object, or when chased, procured for him the name of "Galloping
Dick." Numerous were the escapes which he succeeded in making from his
pursuers, after he had committed robberies; and, in one instance, having
been concerned with two others in stopping two gentlemen in the Edgeware
Road, he succeeded in galloping off, while his companions were secured,
and upon being tried were convicted and executed.
Nor were his successes confined to the road. In his amours he was
equally bold and enterprising, and equally happy. He persuaded two
married women, the wives of publicans in the Borough, to elope with him,
and his intrigues were almost innumerable.
To follow him through the whole of his exploits would be to occupy a
very considerable portion of our limits with the recital of his case
alone. He was concerned in almost every robbery which was committed in
the neighbourhood of the metropolis during the period at which he was
celebrated, and his acquaintance and connexion with other thieves were
almost as extensive as his crimes. He was repeatedly in custody at
Bow-street, and was several times tried at the Old Bailey, but
acquitted: but at length having been a party to a most daring robbery
near Aylesbury, he was taken into custody within a short time of the
commission of his offence, and being fully identified, he was committed
for trial.
He was indicted at the ensuing assizes, and a verdict of guilty having
been found, he was sentenced to death.
Upon his discovering that all hopes of mercy were vain, he sedulously
applied himself to a preparation for his approaching end, and upon the
day of execution conducted himself with decent resignation.
He was executed at Aylesbury in the month of April, 1800.
JOSEPH WALL, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
Mr. Wall, or as he has been more commonly called, Governor Wall, was
descended from a good family in Ireland, and entered into the army at an
early age. He was of a severe and rather unaccommodating temper; nor was
he much liked among the officers.
Mr. Wall was Lieutenant-governor of Senegambia, but acted as chief, the
first appointment being vacant. His emoluments were very considerable,
as, besides his military appointments, he was superintendant of trade to
the colony. It was an office he held but a short time--not more than two
years; during which he committed the crime for which he suffered, by
ordering Benjamin Armstrong to receive eight hundred lashes, on the 10th
of July, 1782, of which he died in five days afterwards.
As soon as the account of the murder reached the board of admiralty, a
reward was offered for his apprehension; but, having evaded justice in
1784, he lived on the Continent, sometimes in France, and sometimes in
Italy, but mostly in France, under an assumed name, where he was
admitted into good society.
It is most extraordinary that a species of fatality almost invariably
appears to attend persons who have been guilty of offences like that of
Mr. Wall. A gnawing desire to return to London constantly preyed on the
mind of that gentleman, and at length in the year 1797, having first
written to a confidential friend to procure him lodgings, he once more
appeared in the metropolis. His presence was quickly notified to his
relations, who constantly urged the imprudence of this step, and the
importance of his again retiring beyond the reach of the laws of
England, but all remonstrance proved vain, and he continued to reside in
his lodgings in Lambeth, scarcely exhibiting any desire to conceal his
name, character, or situation. He soon afterwards removed to new
apartments in Upper Thornhaugh-street, Bedford-square, and from this
time he seems to have contemplated surrendering himself to the
Government, in order that he might take his trial for the offence
imputed to him. His mind appeared ill at ease, but he was evidently
incapable of coming to any firm determination upon a point of so much
importance to his interests and those of his family. It was not until
the year 1801 that he at length summoned up courage to do that which he
now looked upon as his duty to his country, and then he wrote to the
Government in terms singularly indicative of his disposition, saving
that "He was ready to give himself up," but not immediately tendering
his person to custody.
A communication of this character was not to be overlooked by a minister
of state, and although it was extremely possible, that in case of his
continued silence, no steps would have been taken to procure the
apprehension of Mr. Wall, orders were now given that he should be
secured. At this period he was still living in Upper Thornhaugh-street,
and there he was apprehended by officers, who received instructions from
the office of the Secretary of State for the Home Department.
On the 20th of January, 1802, about twenty years after the commission of
the crime with which he stood charged, Mr. Wall was indicted at the Old
Bailey, and his trial came on before the Chief Baron of the Exchequer,
Mr. Justice Rook, and Mr. Justice Lawrence.
Upon the case being called on, the prisoner informed the Court that he
was deaf, and requested to be permitted to sit near his counsel, but the
Lord Chief Baron informed him, that such an application could not be
acceded to, for that there was a situation pointed out for persons
placed in his condition, and that any distinction would be invidious.
The case then proceeded, and it was proved by the witnesses, that
Armstrong was far from being undutiful in his behaviour; that he was,
however, tied to the gun-carriage; black men, brought there for the
purpose--not the drummers, who in the ordinary course of things would
have had to flog him, supposing him to have deserved flogging;--but
black men were ordered to inflict the punishment ordered. Each man took
his turn, and gave this unhappy sufferer twenty-five lashes, until he
had received the number of eight hundred; and the instrument with which
the punishment was inflicted was not a cat-o'-nine tails, which is
usually employed, but a piece of rope of a greater thickness, which was
much more severe than the cat. During the time at which this inhuman
punishment was being inflicted, the prisoner stood by, and with a degree
of cruelty almost unparalleled urged the executioners to "cut him to the
heart and liver," and in answer to the poor wretch's cries for mercy, he
was proved to have declared that "the sick season coming on, with the
punishment, would do for him." At the conclusion of the flogging, the
miserable being was conducted to the hospital, and there, at the
expiration of five days, he died, declaring that he had been punished
without trial.
The defence set up was, that the deceased had been guilty of mutiny, and
that the punishment was not so severe as reported, but that the deceased
was suffered to drink strong spirits when in the hospital. Several
witnesses were called on the part of the prisoner, particularly Mrs.
Lacy, widow of the captain who succeeded Mr. Wall, and Mary Falkner, who
not only agreed with him in the outrageous conduct of the men, and the
violent language they used, but both positively swore that Lewis, the
first witness against the prisoner, was not the orderly serjeant on that
day.--John Falkner, Peter Williams, and some others who were present,
were also examined, and their testimony went in full corroboration of
the account given by the prisoner, and so far went to his justification;
but in many material points it was in direct contradiction to the
evidence which had been given by the witnesses for the Crown.
The jury, after being out of court some time, pronounced a verdict of
"guilty." The Recorder then proceeded to pass sentence of death upon
the prisoner; that he be executed the following morning, and that his
body be afterwards delivered to be anatomized according to the statute.
Mr. Wall seemed sensibly affected by the sentence, but said nothing more
than to request the court would allow him a little time to prepare
himself for death. On the 21st of January, a respite was sent from Lord
Pelham's office, deferring his execution until the 25th, and on the
24th, he was further respited till the 28th. During the time of his
confinement, previous to trial, he occupied the apartment which was
formerly the residence of Mr. Ridgway, the bookseller. His wife lived
with him for the last fortnight; although he was allowed two hours
a-day, from twelve to two, to walk in the yard, he did not once embrace
this indulgence; and during his whole confinement, he never went out of
his room, except into the lobby to consult his counsel. He lived well,
and was at times very facetious, easy in his manners, and pleasant in
conversation; but during the night he frequently sat up in his bed and
sang psalms, overheard by his fellow-prisoner. He had not many visitors,
and his only attendant was a prisoner, who was appointed for that
purpose by the turnkey.
After trial he did not return to his old apartment, but was conducted to
a cell; and he was so far favoured as not to have irons put on, but a
person was employed as a guard to watch him during the night to prevent
him doing violence to himself. On his return from court, on the day of
trial, his bed was brought to him in the cell, on which he threw himself
in an agony of mind, saying it was his intention not to rise until they
called him on the fatal morning.
The sheriffs were particularly pointed and precise in their orders, with
respect to confining him to the usual diet of bread and water,
preparatory to the awful event, and this order was scrupulously
fulfilled. The prisoner, during a part of the night, slept, owing to
fatigue and perturbation of mind. The next morning his wife applied, but
was refused admittance without an order from one of the sheriffs. She
applied to Mr. Sheriff Cox, who attended her to the prison.
From the time of the first respite, until twelve o'clock on Wednesday
night, he did not cease to entertain hopes of his safety. The interest
made to save him was very great. The whole of Wednesday occupied the
great law officers; the judges met at the chancellor's in the afternoon,
and the conference which then took place lasted upwards of three hours.
All hopes were, however, vain, and at a little after four o'clock, on
Thursday the 28th, the scaffold began to be erected by torch-light.
The prisoner had had an affecting interview with his wife, the night
before, from whom he was painfully separated about eleven o'clock. Mrs.
Wall then reluctantly departed, overwhelmed with grief, and bathed with
tears; while the unfortunate husband declared that he could now, with
Christian fortitude, submit to his unhappy fate.
During the greater part of the night he slept but little; but at about
four o'clock in the morning his sleep was observed to become sound, and,
according to the best recollection of his attendant, he continued in
this sleep rather more than an hour; so that he could not have heard the
fatal machine in its passage to the Debtors'-door. His voice preserved
its usual strength and tone to the end; and, though very particular in
his questions respecting the machinery in every part, yet he spoke of
his approaching execution and death with perfect calmness. At half after
six in the morning, his prison attendant, going to his cell, was asked
by him "whether the noise he heard was not that of erecting his
scaffold?" but he was humanely answered in the negative.
The Ordinary, Dr. Ford, soon after entered, when the prisoner devoutly
joined him for some time in prayer. They then passed on to an ante room,
when the governor asked "whether it was a fine morning?" On being
answered in the affirmative, he said, "The time hangs heavily: I am
anxious for the close of this scene." One of the officers then proceeded
to bind his arms with a cord, for which he extended them out firmly; but
recollecting himself, he said, "I beg your pardon a moment;" and putting
his hand in his pocket, he drew out two white handkerchiefs, one of
which he bound over his temples so as nearly to conceal his eyes, over
which he placed a white cap, and then put on a round hat; the other
handkerchief he kept between his hands. He then observed, "the cord cuts
me; but it's no matter:" on which Dr. Ford desired it to be loosened,
for which the prisoner bowed, and thanked him.
As the clock struck eight, the door was thrown open, and Sheriff Cox and
his officers appeared. The governor approaching him, said, "I attend
you, sir;" and the procession to the scaffold, over the Debtors'-door,
immediately succeeded. He had no sooner ascended it, accompanied by the
Ordinary, than three successive shouts from an innumerable populace, the
brutal effusion of one common sentiment, evidently deprived him of the
small portion of fortitude which he had summoned up. He bowed his head
under the extreme pressure of ignominy, when the hangman put the halter
over it. This done, Mr. Wall stooped forward and spoke to the Ordinary,
who, no doubt at his request, pulled the cap over the lower part of the
face, when in an instant, without waiting for any signal, the platform
dropped.
From the knot of the rope turning round to the back of the neck, and his
legs not being pulled, as at his particular request, he was suspended in
convulsive agony for more than a quarter of an hour. After hanging a
full hour, his body was cut down, put into a cart, and immediately
conveyed to a building in Cow-cross-street to be dissected. He was
dressed in a mixed coloured loose coat, with a black collar, swan-down
waistcoat, blue pantaloons, and white silk stockings. He appeared a
miserable and emaciated object, never having quitted the bed of his cell
from the day of condemnation till the morning of his execution.
The body of the unfortunate gentleman was not exposed to public view, as
was usual in such cases. Mr. Belfour, secretary to the Surgeons'
Company, applied to Lord Kenyon to know whether such an exposure was
necessary; and finding that the forms of dissection only were required,
the body, after those forms had been complied with, was consigned to the
relations of the unhappy man, upon their paying fifty guineas to the
Philanthropic Society.
JOHN TERRY AND JOSEPH HEALD.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
These villains were executed for the wilful murder of a poor old woman,
named Elizabeth Smith, aged sixty-seven years; their object being to
possess themselves of a small sum of money, known to have been recently
before transmitted to her by her son.
Their trial came on at York, on Friday the 18th of March 1803; and the
indictment alleged the murder to have been committed at Flaminshaw, near
Wakefield, in the same county.
It appeared that the deceased was a respectable woman, who obtained an
humble living by disposing of the produce of two cows which she
possessed. Misfortune, however, fell upon her, and her cows died; but
through the instrumentality of her neighbours a subscription was raised
for her, by which one cow was purchased. Her son, who was engaged in a
decent way of life at Leeds, sent her eighteen guineas to buy another;
and this was the bait by which the wretched men, whose crime we are
about to describe, were allured. On the morning of the 14th of January
1803, the poor old woman was found to have been murdered in her own
house, under circumstances of very great barbarity; and suspicion having
fallen upon the prisoners, they were taken into custody. Terry then,
driven by remorse, made a confession to Shaw and Linley, the constables
by whom he had been secured. He said that he and Heald, having
determined upon the perpetration of the murder, agreed to meet outside
the house of the deceased at about one o'clock on the morning of the
14th of January. They met in accordance with their appointment; and
Heald having first entered the house, by making his way through the
first-floor window, with his (Terry's) assistance, he directly
afterwards placed something against the side of the house by means of
which he was enabled to follow him. On their gaining the room of Mrs.
Smith, they found that she had been alarmed by the noise which they had
made, and was getting up; but they directly attacked her, and knocked
her down; and when Heald had struck her several blows, he took out a
razor. The deceased was now still on the ground, and he (Terry) held her
head, while Heald cut her throat; but at length his fingers being
wounded, he called to his companion to desist, as they had done enough,
and proposed that they should go and see if all was safe. He then ran
down stairs, but returning in a few moments, he found that Heald had got
the old woman into another room, and was beating her over the head with
a pair of tongs. Upon seeing him, he struck her no more, and then they
directly secured the money and made off. From the evidence of the
constables it further appeared that Heald, on hearing the confession of
the other prisoner, upbraided him for deceiving him, and added, "Thou
knowest I was not with thee." Terry answered, "Thou knowest there is a
God above, who knows all;" and upon Heald remarking, "Thou hadst better
lay it upon somebody else," he replied, "I will not hang an innocent
man; thou knowest there were but us two, and God for our witness."
This, together with some other circumstances of suspicion, proved
against the two prisoners, constituted the evidence against them; and
the jury returned a verdict of Guilty. Sentence of death was then
immediately
[Illustration: _John Smith robbing a Hackney Coachman._
_p. 379._]
passed, and was ordered to be put into execution on the following
Monday; but in the mean time a most extraordinary change took place in
the demeanour of the prisoner Terry.
Upon his being attended by Mr. Brown, the Ordinary, he asserted that
Heald was not guilty, and that if he were hanged, he should be guilty of
two murders instead of only one. He entreated that the clergyman would
endeavour to procure the respite of his fellow-prisoner, and declared
that he could not bear to be hanged with an innocent man. The whole of
the circumstances were in consequence submitted to the consideration of
the learned judge; and every measure of precaution was instantly taken
by that learned individual to prevent the occurrence of an event which
might deprive an innocent person of life; but as it was found that Heald
made no attempt to join in the protestations of his companion, and
further that the whole of Terry's conduct appeared to arise from a
desire only that the execution should be respited, and that his
declarations were contradictory and evidently devoid of truth, the law
was ordered to take its course.
On the way from his cell to the scaffold Terry appeared to be in the
highest state of excitement; and upon his appearance on the platform, he
exhibited a most extraordinary degree of stubbornness. He shouted to the
mob assembled, that they were going to hang an innocent man, and even
made an effort to escape, by jumping from the ladder placed against the
gallows, and which he was only prevented from doing by the clergyman,
who seized him by the collar. He then renewed his protestations of his
own guilt, and the innocence of his companion; and in spite of the
entreaties of the clergyman, and of Heald, that he would allow him the
benefit of the prayers, he continued to make the most clamorous
resistance to the execution of the sentence. By the united exertions of
five men, he was at length dragged to the drop, and the rope was forced
over his head; but in his efforts he tore off the cap; and at the moment
at which the platform sunk, he made a spring, and throwing himself
towards the side of the gallows, got his foot upon the beam, and caught
the corner-post with his arm. In this dreadful situation he supported
himself for about a minute, when he was forced off by the executioner,
and then, with his face uncovered, he was left suspended. In a few
moments both he and his companion in crime were lifeless.
ROBERT SMITH.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
This singular robber was a Scotchman, and one of those adventurers who,
ingenious in wickedness, devise new plans of depredation, and make the
industrious, whose hard earnings they enjoy, the chief objects of their
prey.
The mode of robbery which this man adopted, was that of employing a
hackney-coach to drive him to some outlet, and then robbing the coachman
in the first lonesome place he came to; in which for some time he was
very successful. This trade he commenced early in the month of March,
1803, when, being genteelly dressed, at night about ten o'clock, he
hired a hackney-coach at Charing-cross, and ordered the coachman to
drive to St. John's Farm, near the one mile-stone on the Edgeware-road.
When the coach got to the top of the lane leading to St. John's Farm,
Smith pulled the string, and told the coachman to let him get out, for
he had passed the house he wanted to go to; upon which the coachman got
off his box, and let him out of the coach. Smith then asking what his
fare was, he told him, five shillings and sixpence; when he put his hand
into a side-pocket, pulled out a pistol, and swore that he would
immediately shoot him if he did not deliver his money. The coachman
complied; and upon his demanding his watch, delivered that up also; and
the robber succeeded in making his escape across the fields.
On Monday the 6th of March, at about eleven o'clock at night, Smith
hired another coach, and ordered the driver to proceed to St.
George's-row, on the Uxbridge-road. Upon his arrival at the place of his
destination, he demanded the coachman's money and watch with the most
horrid imprecations; and on some hesitation being shown to comply with
his request, he produced a pistol and a tuck-stick, with the latter of
which he wounded the driver in the side. Two seven-shilling pieces, and
eight and sixpence in silver, were then handed over to him, and he
decamped, threatening the coachman with instant death in case of his
attempting to pursue him.
His career of guilt, however, was destined soon to close; for being met
in King's-road, Chelsea, by a patrole named Jones, on Sunday night, the
20th of March, under suspicious circumstances, he was taken into
custody, and a pistol and sword-stick were found in his possession.
Information of his capture being published, on the morning of his
examination at Bow-street, he was instantly recognised by Jones and
Treadwell, the two coachmen, his robberies upon whom we have described;
and further proof of his identity in the former case was found in a
duplicate which was taken from his pocket, referring to the pawning of
the watch of the prosecutor.
Three other charges of a similar character were subsequently preferred
against him by other coachmen, whom he had induced to convey him to
unfrequented places in the vicinity of London; and a fourth case of
robbery on the highway was proved by John Chilton, a porter at Messrs.
Spode's Staffordshire warehouse, whom he had met at Bayswater, and whom,
after having maltreated and wounded, he had robbed of three shillings
and sixpence.
On his trial the prisoner was recognised as a discharged artillery-man,
and was identified by Treadwell, one of his prosecutors, as having been
his fellow-prisoner in the King's Bench; and he was found guilty, and
sentenced to death.
He was hanged at the Old Bailey in the month of June 1803, apparently
fully sensible of the enormity of the crimes which he had committed.
GEORGE FOSTER.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE AND CHILD.
The conviction of this wretched man was founded entirely upon
circumstantial evidence.
He was indicted on the 14th January, 1803, at the Old Bailey, for the
wilful murder of his wife and child.
From the testimony of the witnesses called in support of the case for
the prosecution, it appeared, that the prisoner lived in a place called
North row, Grosvenor-square, and that his wife and child lived with the
mother of the former in Old Boswell-court, but were in the habit of
going to the prisoner's lodgings to sleep, every Saturday night. On the
4th December, in compliance with this custom, his wife quitted her
mother's house with the child, and was never more seen by her until the
Wednesday following, when her body was picked up in the Paddington
Canal, near the Mitre Tavern, at a distance of about two miles from
Paddington. Inquiries were subsequently made, the result of which
proved, that the prisoner had been seen with his wife at the Mitre, as
late as half-past four o'clock on the evening of the 5th December, and
that then they went away together, walking by the side of the canal
towards London. The prisoner was met in town, by an acquaintance, at
about six o'clock; but no suspicion was entertained until the discovery
of the body. The prisoner was then taken into custody, when he declared
that immediately on his leaving the Mitre, he had quitted his wife, and
had gone across the fields as far as Whetstone, on his way to Barnet to
see two of his children, who were in the workhouse there; but that on
his arrival there, it was so dark that he returned to London at about
eight o'clock, but that he never saw his wife again.
The learned judge, in summing up the case to the jury, remarked to them
that the prisoner's story was utterly at variance and inconsistent with
the evidence adduced; and a verdict of Guilty was returned, and the
prisoner was sentenced to death.
He subsequently confessed the justice of his conviction and punishment;
and admitted that he had conducted his wife twice to the same spot with
the same object, before he could summon up courage to destroy her. He
assigned no reason for the diabolical deed, except that he had taken an
unaccountable dislike for her, and did not know how otherwise to rid
himself of her.
He was executed at the Old Bailey, on the 18th January, 1803.
After he had hung the usual time, his body was cut down and conveyed to
a house not far distant, where it was subjected to the Galvanic process,
by Professor Aldini, under the inspection of Mr. Keate, Mr. Carpue, and
other medical gentlemen. M. Aldini, who was the nephew of the discoverer
of this most interesting science, showed the powers of Galvanism to be
far superior to those of any other stimulant. On the first application
of the process to the face, the jaw of the deceased criminal began to
quiver, and the adjoining muscles were horribly contorted, and one eye
actually opened. In the subsequent part of the process, the right hand
was raised and clenched, and the legs and thighs were set in motion. Mr.
Pass, the beadle of the Surgeons' Company, being officially present
during the time of these extraordinary experiments, was so alarmed, that
on his going home he died from fright.
An experiment of another description was made on a convict, named
Patrick Redmond, who was hanged for a street-robbery, on the 24th of
February, 1767, in order to bring him to life. It appears that the
sufferer had hung twenty-eight minutes, when the mob rescued the body,
and carried it to an appointed place, where a surgeon was in attendance
to try the experiment of _bronchotomy_, which is an incision in the
windpipe, and which, in less than six hours, produced the desired
effect. A collection was made for the poor fellow, and interest made to
obtain his pardon, for it will be remembered that the law says the
condemned shall _hang until he is dead_; consequently, men who, like
Redmond, recovered, are liable to be again hanged up until they are
dead.
ROBERT EMMET.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
This enthusiast was the son of Dr. Emmet, a man of good family, and
possessed of considerable wealth; but who, having imbibed opinions
favourable to republicanism, took care to instil them into his children.
His eldest son was implicated in the Irish rebellion of 1798, and
escaped with his life upon the terms offered to Arthur O'Connor, Dr.
M'Nevin, and others, and accepted by them, and, like them, became an
exile in a foreign land.
The hero of the present sketch was intended for the Irish Bar, and
received a most liberal education. In Trinity College he became
conspicuous, not only for his abilities, but for his display of
eloquence in the "Historical Debating Society," a school which matured
the talents of Bushe, Burrows, and several other members of the Irish
Bar. Young Emmet, however, wanted discretion; and having too often
avowed his political principles, a prosecution was threatened, to avoid
which he precipitately fled to France, where his republican opinions
were confirmed.
In 1803 he returned to Dublin, not being then more than twenty-four
years of age, and found himself in possession of three thousand five
hundred pounds, left him by his father, then recently deceased. With
this money, and the talents and connexions which he possessed, he might
easily have established his own independence; but the sober business of
life had no attractions for him; he aspired to greater fame, and
resolved to attempt the separation of his country from England.
Wild and extravagant as the scheme was, he entered seriously upon it,
and easily found abettors among those who had escaped the angry
vengeance of 1798. Having procured several associates, he took a house
in Patrick-street, and converted it into a rebel depôt for powder, guns,
swords, pikes, &c. In the purchase and preparation of these he expended
upwards of one thousand pounds; but before the plan of insurrection was
ripe, the powder in the magazine, through accident, ignited, and the
whole depôt was blown into the air. Such, however, was the fidelity of
Emmet's partisans, that no discovery took place, further than that
caused by the explosion; and the government, who ordered the guns to be
brought to the Castle, remained ignorant of the purpose for which those
destructive implements were provided.
A mind so sanguine as that of Emmet was not to be damped by an
accidental disappointment: he collected his partisans, took another
house in a lane in Thomas-street, and again commenced preparations for a
popular rebellion. The ramifications of treason were easily extended
through Ireland, where the discontent of the Catholics induced them to
join in any extravagant scheme which promised them redress of
grievances. Emmet had correspondents in every county; and the 23rd of
July 1803 was the day appointed for a general rising, the signal of
which was to be an attack upon Dublin.
The plan of surprising the metropolis was admirably adapted for its
sanguinary purpose; but fortunately several disappointments took place,
and Emmet was unable to proceed as he intended. In the confusion of such
a moment the rebels deceived one another, and several hundred men, who
came in from the country, returned home, being told that the _rising_
was postponed, while those who remained were crowded into the depôt, and
impeded the preparations. It was too late, however, to retract, or alter
the intended movement, as Emmet expected the whole country to rise on
that night. He therefore made the desperate attempt, and, with eighty
followers, sallied out, at nine o'clock, into Thomas-street, and made
towards the Castle, which he intended to surprise.
The experience of a few minutes showed him his madness and folly; for he
quickly found himself without authority, in the midst of a ruffianly
mob, who would neither obey nor accompany him; but who soon convinced
him, that, though cowardly, they were brutal and sanguinary. When he had
arrived at the market-house, his followers had diminished to eighteen,
and as he was now convinced of his rashness, he prevented the discharge
of a rocket which was to be the signal for the outposts to commence
hostilities. This act saved the lives of hundreds, for the Wexford men,
to the number of three hundred, had assembled on the Coal-quay, and
other large bodies had met in the barley-fields behind Mountjoy-square;
all of whom, in consequence, escaped uninjured, and were prevented from
inflicting injury on others.
The rebel band in Thomas-street, meanwhile, largely increased in
numbers; but, being without a leader, they remained confused and
inactive. At this moment, however, an act of atrocity was perpetrated,
sufficiently serious to exhibit the nature of the design. The coach of
the lamented Lord Kilwarden, chief-justice of the Court of King's Bench,
containing his lordship, and his nephew and niece, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe,
and Miss Wolfe, drove up, and was instantly surrounded. Much confusion
prevailed, and his lordship received a deadly stab from the hand of an
assassin which eventually deprived him of life: his nephew was dragged
from the vehicle and ill-treated; but Miss Wolfe was borne to an
opposite house in the arms of a lusty rebel, apparently more humane than
his comrades.
The precise particulars of the murder of Lord Kilwarden are not known,
and have always been the subject of controversy. By some it is alleged
that it was the unpremeditated act of a ferocious rabble; by others,
that he was mistaken for another person; but there is another account,
which admits the mistake in the first instance, but subjoins other
particulars, which appear sufficiently probable. It is related, that, in
the year 1795, when his lordship was attorney-general, a number of young
men, between the ages of fifteen and twenty years, were indicted for
high treason, and upon the day appointed for their trial they appeared
at the bar, wearing shirts with tuckers and open collars, in the manner
usual with boys. When the chief-justice of the King's Bench appeared in
court to proceed with their trial, he remarked, "Well, Mr. Attorney, I
suppose you are ready to go on with the trial of these tuckered
traitors?" The attorney-general was quite prepared to proceed at once;
but, disgusted with the remark which had been made, he said, "No, my
lord, I am not ready;" and he added in a lower tone to the prisoners'
counsel, "If I have any power to save the lives of these boys, whose
extreme youth I did not before observe, that man shall never have the
gratification of passing sentence upon one of these _tuckered_
traitors." He performed his promise, and soon afterwards procured
pardons for them all, upon condition of their going abroad. One of them,
however, refused to accept the pardon upon the condition imposed; and
being obstinate, he was tried, convicted, and executed. After his death,
it is said that his relatives, readily listening to every
misrepresentation which flattered their resentment, became persuaded
that the attorney-general had selected him alone to suffer the utmost
severity of the laws. One of these, a person named Shannon, was an
insurgent of the 23rd July; and when Lord Kilwarden, hearing the popular
cry of vengeance, exclaimed from his carriage, "It is I, Kilwarden,
chief-justice of the King's Bench," Shannon immediately cried out, "Then
you are the man I want," and instantly plunged a pike into his
lordship's body.
Whatever may be the truth or falsehood of this story, his lordship's
death, there is no doubt, was the effect of the violence of the mob on
this occasion; and it appears, that the fatal wound had scarcely been
given, when a party of military reaching the spot, the people were put
to flight, and his lordship's body rescued from further violence, and
conveyed to Werburgh-street.
Major Swan soon after arrived, and in his fury at the attack upon so
good a man, exclaimed indignantly, that every rebel taken with arms in
his hands ought to be instantly hanged; when his lordship, who still
lived, turned round, and impressively exhorted him "to let no man suffer
but by the laws of his country." In a few minutes after, this great and
good man expired.
For a few hours the rebels continued to skirmish with the military, and
several men were killed. By morning, however, all appearance of
rebellion had vanished, and large rewards were offered for the
apprehension of the leader, Robert Emmet, who had escaped to the county
of Wicklow, where he arrived in time to prevent a rising of the
assembled rebels.
This unfortunate young man was every way an enthusiast; for his love was
as extravagant as his patriotism. It appears that soon after his return
from France he visited at the house of Curran, the celebrated Irish
barrister, and became attached to that gentleman's youngest daughter.
Their affection was mutual, but unknown to Mr. Curran. Upon the failure
of the insurrection Emmet might easily have effected his departure from
the kingdom, had he attended solely to his safety; but, in the same
spirit of romantic enthusiasm which distinguished his short career, he
could not submit to leave the country to which he could never more
return, without making an effort to have one final interview with the
object of his unfortunate attachment, in order to receive her personal
forgiveness for what he now considered as the deepest injury. With a
view of obtaining this last gratification, he selected a place of
concealment midway between Mr. Curran's country-house and Dublin; but
before the meeting took place he was arrested. On his person were found
some papers, which showed that he corresponded with Mr. Curran's
family, in consequence of which that gentleman's house was searched, and
the letters there found were produced in evidence against him.
His trial came on, at the sessions-house, Green-street, Dublin,
September the 19th, 1803, before Lord Norbury; and the evidence being
conclusive, his conviction followed. When called upon in the usual way,
before passing sentence, he addressed the Court as follows:--
"I am asked if I have anything to say why sentence of death should not
be pronounced upon me. Was I to suffer only death, after being adjudged
guilty, I should bow in silence; but a man in my situation has not only
to combat with the difficulties of fortune, but also the difficulties of
prejudice: the sentence of the law which delivers over his body to the
executioner, consigns his character to obloquy. The man dies, but his
memory lives; and that mine may not forfeit all claim to the respect of
my countrymen, I use this occasion to vindicate myself from some of the
charges advanced against me.
"I am charged with being an emissary of France:--'tis false! I am no
emissary--I did not wish to deliver up my country to a foreign power,
and least of all, to France. No! never did I entertain the idea of
establishing French power in Ireland--God forbid! On the contrary, it is
evident from the introductory paragraph of the Address of the
Provisional Government, that every hazard attending an independent
effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of introducing a
French army into the country. Small would be our claims to patriotism
and to sense, and palpable our affectation of the love of liberty, if we
were to encourage the profanation of our shores by a people who are
slaves themselves, and the unprincipled and abandoned instruments of
imposing slavery on others. If such an inference be drawn from any part
of the proclamation of the Provisional Government, it calumniates their
views, and is riot warranted by the fact.--How could they speak of
freedom to their countrymen? How assume such an exalted motive, and
meditate the introduction of a power which has been the enemy of freedom
in every part of the globe? Reviewing the conduct of France to other
countries, could we expect better towards us? No! Let not, then, any man
attaint my memory by believing that I could have hoped for freedom
through the aid of France, and betrayed the sacred cause of liberty, by
committing it to the power of her most determined foe: had I done so, I
had not deserved to live; and dying with such a weight upon my
character, I had merited the honest execration of that country which
gave me birth, and to which I would have given freedom.
"Had I been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the French--in
the dignity of freedom, I would have expired on the threshold of that
country, and they should have entered it only by passing over my
lifeless corpse. Is it, then, to be supposed, that I would be slow to
make the same sacrifice to my native land? Am I, who lived but to be of
service to my country, and who would subject myself to the bondage of
the grave to give her independence--am I to be loaded with the foul and
grievous calumny of being an emissary of France? My Lords, it may be
part of the system of angry justice to bow a man's mind by humiliation
to meet the ignominy of the scaffold; but worse to me than the
scaffold's shame or the scaffold's terrors, would be the imputation of
having been the agent of French despotism and ambition; and while I
have breath I will call upon my countrymen not to believe me guilty of
so foul a crime against their liberties and their happiness.
"Though you, my lord, sit there a judge, and I stand here a culprit, yet
you are but a man, and I am another; I have a right therefore to
vindicate my character and motives from the aspersions of calumny; and
as a man to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of
that life in rescuing my name and my memory from the afflicting
imputation of having been an emissary of France, or seeking her
interference in the internal regulation of our affairs.
"Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would meet it
on the shore with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other--I would
receive them with all the destruction of war! I would animate my
countrymen to immolate them in their very boats; and before our native
soil should be polluted by a foreign foe, if they succeeded in landing,
I would burn every blade of grass before them, raze every house, contend
to the last for every inch of ground, and the last spot on which the
hope of freedom should desert me, that spot I would make my grave: what
I cannot do, I leave a legacy to my country, because I feel conscious
that my death were unprofitable, and all hope of liberty extinct, the
moment a French army obtained a footing in this land. God forbid that I
should see my country under the hands of a foreign power. If the French
should come as a foreign enemy, Oh! my countrymen! meet them on the
shore with a torch in one hand, a sword in the other: receive them with
all the destruction of war; immolate them in their boats before our
native soil shall be polluted by a foreign foe! If they proceed in
landing, fight them on the strand, burn every blade of grass before them
as they advance--raze every house; and if you are driven to the centre
of your country, collect your provisions, your property, your wives, and
your daughters; form a circle around them--fight while but two men are
left; and when but one remains, let that man set fire to the pile, and
release himself, and the families of his fallen countrymen, from the
tyranny of France.
"My lamp of life is nearly expired--my race is finished: the grave opens
to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. All I request, then, at
parting from the world, is the charity of its silence. Let no man write
my epitaph; for as no man, who knows my motives, dare vindicate them,
let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them; let them and me repose in
obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain undescribed, till other times
and other men can do justice to my character."
Judgment was then passed on him in the usual form, and he was ordered
for execution. On his return to Newgate he drew up a statement of the
insurrection, and the cause of its failure, which he requested might be
sent to his brother, Thomas Addis, who was then at Paris.
The unfortunate young man, on the night before his execution, wrote to
Mr. Curran and his son Robert, excusing himself for his conduct towards
Miss Curran, and the firmness and regularity of the original
hand-writing contain an affecting proof of the little influence which
the approaching event exerted over his frame. The same enthusiasm which
allured him to his destruction enabled him to support its utmost rigour.
He met his fate with unostentatious fortitude; and although few could
ever think of justifying his projects or regretting their failure, yet
his youth, his talents, and the great respectability of his connexions,
and the evident delusion of which he was the victim, have excited more
general sympathy for his unfortunate end, and more forbearance towards
his memory, than is usually extended to the errors or sufferings of
political offenders.
Moore, the celebrated Irish bard, has lamented his fate in the following
melody:--
Oh! breathe not his name--let it sleep in the shade!
Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid!
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Several of Emmet's deluded followers met the fate of their leader, and
by their ignominious deaths, taught their countrymen the folly and
madness of attempting to separate Ireland from this kingdom by violent
means.
The following pathetic history of Miss Curran, after the death of her
lover, is extracted from Washington Irving's "Sketch Book," in which it
appears under the title of "The Broken Heart." It is rather long, but
its beauty will amply repay the trouble of its perusal:--
"Every one must recollect the tragical story of young E----, the Irish
patriot; it was too touching to be soon forgotten. During the troubles
in Ireland he was tried, condemned, and executed, on a charge of
treason. His fate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He was so
young--so intelligent--so generous--so brave--so everything that we are
apt to like in a young man. His conduct under trial, too, was so lofty
and intrepid! The noble indignation with which he repelled the charge of
treason against his country--the eloquent vindication of his name--and
his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of
condemnation--all these entered deeply into every generous bosom, and
even his enemies lamented the stern policy that dictated his execution.
"But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be impossible to
describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, he had won the affections
of a beautiful and interesting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated
Irish barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fervour of a
woman's first and early love. When every worldly maxim arrayed itself
against him; when blasted in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened
around his name, she loved him the more ardently for his very
sufferings. If, then, his fate could awaken the sympathy even of his
foes, what must have been the agony of her whose soul was occupied by
his image! Let those tell who have had the portals of the tomb suddenly
closed between them and the being they most loved on earth--who have sat
at its threshold, as one shut out in a cold and lonely world, from
whence all that was most lovely and loving had departed.
"But then the horrors of such a grave! so frightful, so dishonoured!
There was nothing for memory to dwell on that could soothe the pang of
separation--none of those tender, though melancholy circumstances, that
endear the parting scene--nothing to melt sorrow into those blessed
tears, sent, like the dews of heaven, to revive the heart in the
parching hour of anguish.
"To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had incurred her
father's displeasure by her unfortunate attachment, and was an exile
from the paternal roof. But could the sympathy and kind offices of
friends have reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she
would have experienced no want of consolation; for the Irish are a
people of quick and generous sensibilities. The most delicate and
cherishing attentions were paid her by families of wealth and
distinction. She was led into society, and they tried by all kinds of
occupation and amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from the
tragical story of her lover. But it was all in vain. There are some
strokes of calamity that scathe and scorch the soul--that penetrate to
the vital seat of happiness--and blast it, never again to put forth bud
or blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts of pleasure, but
she was as much alone there as in the depth of solitude. She walked
about in a sad reverie, apparently unconscious of the world around her.
She carried with her an inward woe that mocked at all the blandishments
of friendship, and 'heeded not the song of the charmer, charm he never
so wisely.'
"The person who told me her story had seen her at a masquerade. There
can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness more striking and painful
than to meet it in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre,
lonely and joyless, where all around is gay--to see it dressed out in
the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and woe-begone, as if it had
tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of
sorrow. After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy crowd with
an utter air of abstraction, she sat herself down on the steps of an
orchestra, and looking about some time with a vacant air, that showed
her insensibility of the garish scene, she began, with the
capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive air. She
had an exquisite voice; but on this occasion it was so simple, so
touching, it breathed forth such a soul of wretchedness, that she drew a
crowd mute and silent around her, and melted every one into tears.
"The story of one so true and tender could not but excite great interest
in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. It completely won the heart of a
brave officer, who paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so
true to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the living. She
declined his attentions, for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed by
the memory of her former lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He
solicited not her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by her
conviction of his worth, and her sense of her own destitute and
dependent situation; for she was existing on the kindness of her
friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though
with the solemn assurance that her heart was unalterably another's.
"He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of scene might
wear out the remembrance of early woes. She was an amiable and exemplary
wife, and made an effort to be a happy one; but nothing could cure the
silent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She
wasted away in a slow, but hopeless decline; and at length sank into the
grave, the victim of a broken heart."
COLONEL EDWARD MARCUS DESPARD, JOHN FRANCIS, JOHN WOOD, AND OTHERS.
EXECUTED FOR HIGH TREASON.
The professed object of the plot, in which these misguided men were
engaged, was neither more or less than the overthrow of the Government,
and the destruction of the Royal Family.
The men, who were found guilty of being concerned in the project, were
Edward Marcus Despard, aged fifty, a colonel in the army; John Francis,
a private soldier, aged twenty-three; John Wood, a private soldier, aged
thirty-six; Thomas Broughton, a carpenter, aged twenty-six; James
Sedgwick Wratton, a shoemaker, aged thirty-five; John Macnamara, a
carpenter, aged fifty; and Arthur Graham, a slater, aged fifty-three.
Colonel Despard, the ill-starred leader of the conspirators, was
descended from a very ancient and respectable family, in the Queen's
County in Ireland. He was the youngest of six brothers, all of whom,
except the eldest, had served their country, either in the army or navy.
In 1766 he entered the army as an ensign in the 5th regiment; and he
afterwards served in the same regiment as a lieutenant; and in the 79th
he successively held rank as lieutenant, quarter-master,
captain-lieutenant, and captain. From his superior officers he received
many marks of approbation, particularly from General Calcraft, of the
50th, General Meadows, and the Duke of Northumberland. He had been, for
the last twenty years before his execution, detached from any particular
corps, and intrusted with important offices.
In 1779, he was appointed chief engineer to the St. Juan expedition, and
conducted himself so as to obtain distinguished praise. He also received
the thanks of the council and assembly of Jamaica, for the construction
of public works there, and was, in consequence of these services,
appointed, by the governor of Jamaica, to be commander-in-chief of the
island of Rattan and its dependencies, and of the troops there; and to
rank as lieutenant-colonel and field-engineer; and he commanded, as
such, on the Spanish Main in Rattan, and on the Musquito shore, and Bay
of Honduras. After this, at Cape Gracias á Dios, he put himself at the
head of the inhabitants, who voluntarily solicited him to take the
command, and retook from the Spaniards Black River, the principal
settlement of the coast. For this service he received the thanks of the
governor, council, and assembly of Jamaica, and of the king himself. In
1783, he was promoted to the rank of colonel. In 1784, he was appointed
first commissioner for settling and receiving the territory ceded to
Britain by the sixth article of the definitive treaty of peace with
Spain, in 1783; and he so well discharged his duty as colonel, that he
was appointed superintendant of his majesty's affairs on the coast of
Honduras, which office he held much to the advantage of the crown of
England, for he obtained from that of Spain some very important
privileges. The clashing interests, however, of the inhabitants of this
coast produced much discontent, and the colonel was, by a party of them,
accused of various misdemeanours to his majesty's ministers.
He now came home, and demanded that his conduct should be investigated;
but, after two years' constant attendance on all the departments of
government, he was at last told by the ministers, that there was no
charge against him worthy of notice, and that his Majesty had thought
proper to abolish the office of superintendant at Honduras, otherwise he
should have been reinstated in it; but he was then, and on every
occasion, assured, that his services should not be forgotten, but that
they should, in due time, meet their reward.
Irritated by continued disappointments, he began to vent his indignation
in an unguarded manner, and thus rendering himself liable to suspicion,
he was for a considerable time confined in Cold Bath-fields' Prison,
under the provisions of the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act, then recently
passed. On his liberation it was found that his passions were not cooled
by the imprisonment which he had undergone; and inflamed against the
government himself, he at length succeeded in gaining over to his views
others whose causes of complaint were even more trivial than those of
their leader. Their proceeding soon became so notorious, that it was
determined that the existence of the society which they had formed was
no longer consistent with public safety; and in consequence of
representations which were made, a search-warrant was issued, which was
placed in the hands of the police for execution. A strong body of
constables having assembled, they all proceeded to the Oakley Arms,
Oakley-street, Lambeth, where they found and apprehended Colonel Despard
and about forty other persons assembled in a room together, the greater
part of whom were men of indifferent character, and of low station in
life. The prisoners were on the following day carried to Union Hall, to
be examined by the magistrates sitting there; and in the end Colonel
Despard, and thirty-two of his companions, were committed to
Horsemonger-lane Gaol to await the final and determinate investigation
of their cases before a jury.
For the better and more effectual trial of the prisoners, a special
commission was issued, by virtue of which they were arraigned, on
indictments which had been found against them, on the 7th February,
1803.
The first case gone into was that of Despard, and the indictment having
been read, the case for the prosecution was opened by the
attorney-general; and he stated that the prisoners had formed a society,
the object of which was to overturn the government. His Majesty having
intended to meet his Parliament a week earlier than he actually did,
namely, on the 16th January instead of on the 23rd, the society proposed
on that day to carry out their plan, which was in the first instance to
lay a restraint upon the King's person, and to destroy him. They
frequently attempted to seduce soldiers into their club, and on any of
them being persuaded to join them, they administered false oaths to
them, and gave them copies of the oath, in order that they might
endeavour to make proselytes in their turn. Among others thus gained
over was one Windsor, but soon after he had joined he became
dissatisfied, and gave information of the conspiracy to a Mr. Bonus, to
whom he showed a copy of the oath, but by the advice of that gentleman,
he remained a member of the society with the design of learning whether
there were any persons of note among its members. On the Friday before
the intended assassination of the King, a meeting was held, at which
Broughton, the prisoner, prevailed upon two of the associates to go to
the Flying Horse, Newington, where they would meet with a "nice man,"
and it turned out that the person so described was Colonel Despard.
The witnesses were then examined; and after proof of the apprehension of
the prisoners, as described already, had been given, and the printed
papers which had been found, and which contained the form of the oath,
&c., had been read, Thomas Windsor, the chief witness, was called.
He deposed as to the manner in which he took the oath, the effect of
which was to bind him to support the views of the society in opposition
to the King and his Government, and then proceeded to detail the plan
which was proposed to be put into execution. Despard was the leader and
director of the whole proceedings; and he recommended that the proposed
attack should be made on that day when his Majesty went to open
Parliament. The object was to seize the person of the King; and Despard
declared that "he had weighed the matter well, and that his heart was
callous, and the King must be put to death." When the murder of his
Majesty had been effected, the mail-coaches were to be stopped, so as to
convey information to the agents of the plotters in the country of what
had occurred; and then a simultaneous rising was to take place. The
witness was to be engaged as an active party in the proceedings of the
conspirators, and he was desired by the prisoner to meet him on
Tower-hill, with some comrades, who were desirous of joining the
society, to consider the best mode of surprising the Tower and securing
the arms. Accompanied by the prisoner Wood therefore, and two other men,
he went to the Tiger public-house, Tower-hill, where Despard soon joined
them. The determination to destroy the reigning monarch was then again
mentioned by Despard; and after a long discussion, it was agreed that
Wood, whose turn it would be to stand sentry in the Park, near the great
gun, should fire into the King's carriage. Before this diabolical
design, however, could be carried into execution, the parties to the
plot were apprehended.
Mr. Serjeant Best and Mr. Gurney, who were retained as counsel for
Despard, severally addressed the jury on his behalf, contending that the
testimony of Windsor was of such a character as to be entitled to no
belief; and they then called Lord Nelson, Sir A. Clarke, and Sir E.
Nepean, all of whom bore testimony to the character of the prisoner as a
zealous and gallant officer. Lord Ellenborough, however, having summed
up the evidence, the jury returned a verdict of Guilty, but earnestly
recommended the prisoner to mercy, on account of his previous good
character, and the services he had rendered to his country.
The other prisoners were subsequently tried, and twelve of them
convicted upon the same evidence, three of whom were recommended to
mercy.
On the prisoners being brought up to receive judgment, Colonel Despard,
who had hitherto invariably preserved a strict silence, declared his
innocence of the charge imputed to him of seducing the soldiers, and
urged that the jury ought not to have convicted him upon such evidence
as had been adduced.
The sentence was then pronounced upon them as traitors in the usual
form; and on Saturday the 19th of February, information was received
that the warrant of execution, authorising their being hanged on the
Monday following, was made out, a portion of their sentence, namely, the
taking out and burning of the bowels, being remitted. It was sent to the
keeper of the New Gaol in the Borough, at six o'clock on Saturday
evening, and included the names already given, three other prisoners,
named Newman, Tyndal and Lander, being respited. As soon as the warrant
for execution was received, it was communicated to the unhappy persons
by the keeper of the prison; when Colonel Despard observed that the time
was short, yet he had not had, from the first, any strong expectation
that the recommendation of the jury would be effectual. The mediation of
Lord Nelson, and a petition to the crown, were tried; but Colonel
Despard was convinced, according to report, that they would be
unavailing. Mrs. Despard, who was a native of the Bay of Honduras, was
greatly affected when she first heard his fate was sealed; but she
afterwards recovered her fortitude, and bore up with great firmness at
parting with her husband.
The other prisoners bore their doom with equal fortitude, but conducted
themselves with less solemnity than the colonel. Their wives were
allowed to take a farewell of them on the same day, and the scene was
truly distressing.
At day-light on Sunday morning, the drop, scaffold, and gallows, on
which they were to be executed, were erected on the top of the gaol. All
the Bow-street patrol, and many other peace-officers, were on duty all
day and night; and a large body of the military was drawn up close to
it.
On the following morning, Monday the 21st of February, 1803, at
half-past six o'clock, the prison bell rang--the signal for unlocking
the cells. At seven, Broughton, Francis, Graham, Wood, and Wratton went
into the chapel with the Rev. Mr. Winkworth. They attended to the
prayers with great earnestness, but at the same time without seeming to
lose that firmness which they had displayed since their trial. Before
they received the sacrament, four of them confessed they had done wrong,
but not to the extent charged against them by the evidence. The fifth,
Graham, said that he was innocent of the charges brought against him;
but he admitted that he had attended two meetings, the second at the
instigation of Francis.
For some time the clergyman refused to administer the sacrament to
Francis, because he persisted in declaring he had been guilty of no
crime. The clergyman said to him, "You admit you attended meetings?" He
answered, "Yes." "You knew they were for the purpose of overturning the
constitution of the country? I by no means wish you to enter into
particulars. I only wish you to acknowledge generally." Francis
rejoined, "I admit I have done wrong in attending those meetings;" and
the sacrament was then administered to them.
Colonel Despard and Macnamara were then brought down from their cells,
their irons knocked off, and their arms bound with ropes. On observing
the sledge and apparatus the colonel smilingly cried out, "Ha! ha! what
nonsensical mummery is this!"
When the awful procession began, which was at half-past eight o'clock
precisely, Macnamara was the first that came out. Colonel Despard was
the last that appeared. He stept into the hurdle with much fortitude,
having an executioner on the right and on the left, on the same seat,
with naked cutlasses. He was thus conducted to the outer lodge, whence
he ascended the staircase leading to the place of execution. The
prisoners were preceded by the sheriff, Sir R. Ford, the clergyman, Mr.
Winkworth, and the Roman Catholic clergyman, Mr. Griffith.
Coffins, or shells, which had been previously placed in a room under the
scaffold, were then brought up, and placed on the platform, on which the
drop was erected; a bag of sawdust, to catch the blood when the heads
were severed from the bodies, was placed beside them. The block was near
the scaffold. There were about a hundred spectators on the platform,
among whom were some persons of distinction, but the greatest order was
observed.
Macnamara was the first on the platform; and when the cord was placed
round his neck, he exclaimed, "Lord Jesus, have mercy upon me! O Lord,
look down with pity upon me!" The populace were much struck by his
appearance. Graham came second; he looked pale and ghastly, but spoke
not; Wratton was the third; he ascended the scaffold with much firmness.
Broughton, who was the fourth, joined in prayer with much earnestness.
Wood was the fifth, and Francis the sixth. They were all equally
composed.
Colonel Despard ascended the scaffold with great firmness, and his
countenance underwent not the slightest change while the awful ceremony
of fastening the rope round his neck, and placing the cap on his head,
was performing; he even assisted the executioner in adjusting the rope;
and looked at the multitude with perfect calmness.
The clergyman, who ascended the scaffold after the prisoners were tied
up, spoke to him a few words as he passed, and the colonel bowed and
thanked him. The ceremony of fastening the prisoners being finished, the
colonel advanced, as near as he could, to the edge of the scaffold, and
made the following speech to the multitude:--
"Fellow Citizens,--I come here, as you see, after having served my
country--faithfully, honourably, and usefully served it, for thirty
years and upwards--to suffer death upon a scaffold for a crime of which
I protest I am not guilty. I solemnly declare that I am no more guilty
of it than any of you who may be now hearing me. But, though his
Majesty's ministers know as well as I do that I am not guilty, yet they
avail themselves of a legal pretext to destroy a man, because he has
been a friend to truth, to liberty, and justice----" [There was a
considerable huzza from part of the populace the nearest to him,
but who, from the height of the scaffold from the ground, could
not, for a certainty, distinctly hear what was said. The colonel
proceeded]----"because he has been a friend to the poor and distressed.
But, citizens, I hope and trust, notwithstanding my fate, and the fate
of those who no doubt will soon follow me, that the principles of
freedom, of humanity, and of justice, will finally triumph over
falsehood, tyranny, and delusion, and every principle hostile to the
interests of the human race. And now, having said this, I have little
more to add----" [The colonel's voice seemed to falter a little here--he
paused a moment, as if he had meant to say something more, but had
forgotten it. He then concluded in the following manner.] "I have little
more to add, except to wish you all health, happiness, and freedom,
which I have endeavoured, as far as was in my power, to procure for you
and for mankind in general."
The Colonel generally spoke in a firm and audible tone of voice, and
left off sooner than was expected. There was no public expression of
feeling at the conclusion of his address.
As soon as he had ceased speaking, the clergyman prayed with the other
prisoners, and after a few minutes he shook each by the hand. The
executioners then pulled the caps over the faces of the unhappy men, and
having quitted the scaffold, the signal was immediately afterwards
given, and the drop fell. The Colonel had not one struggle; twice he
opened and shut his hands, convulsively, and he stirred no more.
Macnamara, Graham, Wood, and Wratton were motionless after a few
struggles, but Broughton and Francis were much convulsed for some time
after their companions had ceased to live.
After they had hung for about half an hour, and when they were quite
dead, they were cut down. Colonel Despard was the first who was removed
from the gallows; his body was placed upon sawdust, and his head upon a
block; and after his coat had been taken off, his head was severed from
his body by persons engaged on purpose to perform that ceremony. The
executioner then took the head by the hair, and carrying it to the edge
of the parapet on the right hand, held it up to the view of the
populace, and exclaimed "This is the head of a traitor, Edward Marcus
Despard." The same ceremony was performed on the parapet at the left
hand. There was some hooting and hissing when the colonel's head was
exhibited. His remains were now put into the shell that had been
prepared for them.
The other prisoners were afterwards successively cut down, their heads
severed from their bodies, and exhibited to the populace, with the same
exclamation of, "This is the head of another traitor:" and the bodies
were put into their different shells, and delivered to their friends for
interment.
The crowd at the entrance of Horsemonger-lane was immense; and as the
time of execution drew near, the people from all parts came with such
force as to bear down all opposition. Those who had been in dry
situations were pushed into the middle of the road, where they stood
almost up to the knees in mud, and many lost their shoes by the
continual pushing and jostling.
While the heads were exhibiting, the populace took off their hats. The
execution was over by ten o'clock, and the populace soon after dispersed
quietly. There was not the least tendency to riot or disturbance. The
precautions, however, taken by Government, were only such as were highly
necessary and proper. A sky-rocket was sent to the keeper of the prison
to be let off, as a signal to the military, in case of any disturbance.
The body of Colonel Despard having lain at Mount-row, opposite the
Asylum, was taken away on the first of March, by his friends, with a
hearse and three mourning-coaches, and interred near the north door of
St. Paul's Cathedral, St. Paul's churchyard. The crowd was great; but
when the grave was covered in, the people immediately and quietly
dispersed. The city marshal was present, lest there should be any
disturbance on the occasion.
JOHN HATFIELD.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The variety of the adventures of this man render his name worthy to be
recorded in the annals of crime.
It appears that he was the son of poor parents, who lived at Mortram,
near Longdale, in Cheshire, and that he was born there, in the year
1759. Having by some means procured the situation of rider or traveller
to a linen-draper in the north of England, in the course of his travels
he became acquainted with a young woman, who was under the guardianship
of a respectable farmer, but who was in reality the natural daughter of
Lord Robert Manners. The secret of her birth was not generally known,
but it was communicated to our hero, with an intimation that upon her
marriage, provided it should be with the consent of her father, a dowry
of 1000_l._ would be paid. He therefore lost no time in securing the
good will of the young lady, and having then obtained the consent of her
noble father, he was married to her, and received from his lordship the
sum of 1500_l._ The money, however, was soon spent in the gaieties of
London, by the bridegroom, and with his wife he was compelled to retreat
into the country, where he continued until the year 1782. He, then,
again visited the metropolis, having deserted his wife and three
children, and in spite of his fallen fortunes he proceeded to live in a
style of considerable extravagance, boasting of his near connexion with
the Rutland family, and of his estates in the country. In the course of
his residence in London, his unhappy wife died, and our hero was almost
immediately afterwards conveyed to the King's Bench Prison for a debt of
160_l._ By the practice of an imposture he succeeded in obtaining the
payment of his debt by the Duke of Rutland, and his consequent
discharge, and he was then again thrown upon town to live upon his wits.
In the year 1785, the Duke of Rutland was appointed lord-lieutenant of
Ireland; and directly after his arrival in Dublin, Hatfield followed
him, and taking up his abode at a hotel in College-green, acquainted the
landlord with his pretended connexion with the viceroy, and declared
that he was only prevented from proceeding at once to the Castle, by the
circumstance of his carriage, and horses, and servants, not having yet
arrived. A month was passed by the lodger in a pretended continued state
of disappointment at the non-appearance of his equipage, and at the
expiration of that period the landlord took the liberty of presenting
his bill, which amounted to upwards of sixty pounds. Mr. Hatfield was in
nowise confused, but said that although, fortunately, his agent was then
in Ireland holding a public situation, he was, at that time, on a visit
in the country, from which he would not return for three days. The
landlord was satisfied; but on the fourth day he again made his
appearance, and having been now directed to a gentleman at the Castle,
he forthwith proceeded to him with his account. The answer was of a
nature most unsatisfactory to his wishes; for the supposed agent very
frankly told him, that he was the dupe of an impudent impostor; but he
received some consolation from his being informed that others had
suffered as well as he. His guest, however, was one who was no longer
welcome at his table, but being under the necessity of driving him from
his own house, he provided him with other lodgings in the Marshalsea, to
which he was conveyed by virtue of a writ issued at his instance. On his
entering the jail, Hatfield whispered the keeper and his wife, "to be
sure and keep it a profound secret that he was a relation of the
viceroy, as it might not be agreeable to his Excellency, that it should
be known that he was in prison;" and the people, astonished at the
discovery, which they then made for the first time, conducted him to the
best apartment, had a table provided, and continued to furnish him with
all the necessary commodities for his support during the ensuing three
weeks. In the meantime, however, he had again petitioned the Duke for
fresh supplies, and his Grace, being apprehensive that he might continue
his impositions in Dublin, released him on condition of his quitting
Ireland; and in order to be assured that this stipulation was obeyed, he
sent a servant to see him on board the next vessel sailing for Holyhead.
He next visited Scarborough, and there practised similar impositions;
but his frauds being discovered, he was arrested and lodged in jail,
where he now continued for a period of eight years and a half. At the
expiration of that time, a Miss Nation, of Devonshire, paid his debts
and procured his liberation; and furthermore bestowed her hand on him in
marriage. He then had the good fortune to obtain admission into a
respectable firm at Tiverton as partner, and continued to live during
about three years in apparent respectability; but then, having put up as
a candidate for the borough of Queenborough, his real character was
discovered, and he was made a bankrupt. He now retired, leaving his
second wife and two children behind him; and nothing more was heard of
him until the year 1802, when he drove up in a carriage to the Queen's
Head Inn, at Keswick, and assumed the name of Colonel the Hon. Alexander
Augustus Hope, brother of the Earl of Hopetoun, and member for
Linlithgow. Unfortunately some evil genius directed his steps to the
once happy cottage of poor Mary, the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs.
Robinson, an old couple, who kept a small public-house at the side of
the beautiful lake of Buttermere, Cumberland; and who, by their
industry, had amassed a small property; and poor Mary of Buttermere,
whose charms have since become so celebrated from Wordsworth's sweet
poem in which they are described, was doomed to become the victim of his
villanous schemes. During a short stay at Buttermere, he contrived to
wheedle himself into the good graces of poor Mary; but he was not to be
satisfied with the possession of a country girl, when higher game came
in view. On his first arrival at Keswick, he became acquainted with an
Irish gentleman named Murphy, a member of the then existing Irish House
of Commons, who with his family, and accompanied by a young lady,
possessed of a considerable fortune, and no less personal attractions,
was on a tour through the justly admired lakes of England. The affable
condescension with which his advances were received, induced him to
suppose, that his address and manners were not displeasing to the young
lady, or her guardian, and he resolved to improve upon the opportunity
which presented itself. Quitting the society of the gentle Mary,
therefore, he returned to Keswick, and, ere long, he had so far
ingratiated himself with the young lady, as to obtain from her a promise
of her hand in marriage. Being known only by his assumed title, he was
urged to write to Lord Hopetoun, to acquaint him with the intended
union, and he promised instantly to comply with a request which appeared
so reasonable. Writing letters, therefore, which by virtue of his
pretended rank of M.P. he franked, he despatched them, and until answers
were received, he proposed various trips to while away the time. The
preparations for the marriage, however, occupied the time and attention
of the young lady to too great a degree to permit her quitting Keswick,
and Hatfield seized the opportunity to continue his courtship to the
Beauty of Buttermere. In this manner some weeks elapsed, without any
communication being received from the Earl of Hopetoun; and the
frequent, and now prolonged, absences of the supposed colonel excited
some degree of surprise among his Irish friends.
At length, on the 1st October 1802, a letter was received from Hatfield,
dated Buttermere, by Mr. Murphy, in which a request was contained that a
draft inclosed, purporting to be drawn by Col. Hope, on Mr. Crampt, a
banker in Liverpool, might be cashed; and that gentleman, still having
no good reason to doubt the integrity of his correspondent, immediately
transmitted to him 30_l._, the amount of the check. On the 4th of the
same month, however, Wood, the landlord of the Queen's Head, where the
whole party had been stopping, brought over intelligence from the
village of Lorton, in Buttermere, that Colonel Hope had been married on
the previous day to Mary Robinson. On inquiry it turned out that this
was perfectly true, and that the marriage having taken place, the bride
and bridegroom had gone into Scotland to spend the honeymoon; and it
being now obvious, that the latter, whoever he might be, had acted most
dishonourably towards his ward, Mr. Murphy determined to write to Lord
Hopetoun, for the purpose of ascertaining how far he was entitled to the
name and rank which he had assumed. Circumstances soon transpired, which
induced a belief that he had no pretensions to the character which he
had taken, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension. In the
meantime, he had proceeded with his bride, as far as Longtown, on their
wedding trip, but on reaching that spot, he pretended surprise at not
meeting some friends, whom, he said, he had expected, and returned to
Buttermere. He was there charged with having assumed a fictitious name,
but he flatly denied the truth of the allegation; but the warrant being
brought, by which he was alleged to have forged several franks, as M.P.
for Linlithgow, he was committed to the care of a constable. He,
however, found means to make his escape from this custody; and having
with great boldness passed through several towns, where his person was
known, he was at length apprehended within sixteen miles of Swansea, and
committed to Brecon jail. Before the magistrates, he declared that his
name was Tudor Henry, but his person being identified, he was sent to
London to be examined. He was then transmitted to Cumberland, where he
was charged with forging several franks, and also with forging the bill
for which he had obtained cash at Keswick, and he was committed for
trial; the charge for bigamy, which also stood against him, not being
preferred.
He was indicted at the ensuing assizes at Carlisle, and tried before Sir
A. Thompson, when the jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to
death.
A notion very generally prevailed that he would escape capital
punishment, and the arrival of the mail was daily expected with the
greatest impatience. No pardon arriving, however, September 3, 1803,
(Saturday,) was at last fixed upon for the execution.
The gallows was erected on the preceding night, between twelve and
three, in an island formed by the river Eden, on the north side of the
town, between the two bridges. From the hour when the jury found him
guilty, he behaved with the utmost serenity and cheerfulness. He
received the visits of all who wished to see him, and talked upon the
topics of the day with the greatest interest or indifference. He could
scarcely ever be brought to speak of his own case, and he neither
blamed the verdict, nor made any confession of his guilt. He said that
he had no intention to defraud those whose names he forged; but was
never heard to say that he was to die unjustly. The alarming nature of
the crime of forgery, in a commercial country, had taught him from the
beginning to entertain no hope of mercy.
By ten o'clock in the morning of September 3, his irons were struck off;
and he then appeared as usual, and no alteration or increased agitation,
whatever, was observed in his manner.
Soon after ten o'clock he sent for the "Carlisle Journal," and perused
it for some time, and a little after he had laid aside the paper, two
clergy men attended him, and prayed with him. He afterwards wrote
several letters and shaved himself, and at three o'clock he ate a hearty
dinner with the jailor. Having afterwards drunk two glasses of wine, he
partook of some coffee, and then set out for the scaffold. He was
pinioned in the turnkey's lodge, where he sent for the executioner and
gave him some silver. He afterwards exhibited great composure, and when
he came to the gallows, he asked whether that "was the tree he was to
die on?" On being answered in the affirmative, he exclaimed, "Oh! a
happy sight, I see it with pleasure."
He then ascended the cart, which had been placed under the rope, and
appeared perfectly cool and collected. Having himself assisted in
completing the requisite preparations, he took leave of the sheriffs,
and prepared himself calmly for his fate.
On his being turned off, great apprehensions were entertained that it
would be necessary to tie him up a second time. The noose slipped twice,
and he fell down above eighteen inches, and his feet at last were almost
touching the ground; but his excessive weight, which occasioned this
accident, speedily relieved him from pain. He expired in a moment, and
without any struggle.
He was cut down after he had hung about an hour. On the preceding
Wednesday he had had a carpenter to take his measure for his coffin, and
he ordered it to be a strong oak one, plain and neat, requesting that,
after he was taken down, he might be put into it immediately, with the
apparel he might have on, and carried to the churchyard of
Burgh-on-Sands, there to be interred in the evening.
The conscientious parishioners of Burgh, however, objected to his being
laid there, and the body was consequently conveyed in the hearse to St.
Mary's, Carlisle, where it was interred in a distant corner of the
churchyard, far from the other tombs. No priest attended, and the coffin
was lowered without any religious service. Notwithstanding his various
and complicated enormities, his untimely end excited considerable
commiseration. His manners were extremely polished and insinuating, and
he was possessed of qualities which might have rendered him an ornament
of society.
[Illustration: _Shooting a Ghost._
_p. 399_]
FRANCIS SMITH.
CONDEMNED FOR THE MURDER OF A SUPPOSED GHOST.
The Hammersmith Ghost will be in the remembrance of every one. Its
vagaries and mischievous pranks were in some cases productive of very
serious consequences, and in no instance were more melancholy effects
produced than in that of the unfortunate prisoner, whose case is now
before us, who shot a poor man, who offended only in wearing the garb of
his trade at night, and who was afterwards tried and condemned to death
for the offence.
Among the other evil effects produced by the absurd proceedings of the
ghost, it appears that one poor woman in particular, who was far
advanced in her pregnancy of a second child, was so much shocked on
seeing him, that she took to her bed, and survived only two days. She
had been crossing near the churchyard about ten o'clock at night, when
she beheld something, as she described, rise from the tomb-stones. The
figure was very tall, and very white. She attempted to run, but the
ghost soon overtook her, and, pressing her in his arms, she fainted, and
fell to the ground. In this situation she remained some hours, till
discovered by some neighbours, who kindly led her home, when she took to
her bed, from which she never rose.
The ghost had so much alarmed a waggoner, belonging to Mr. Russel,
driving a team of eight horses, and which had sixteen passengers at the
time, that the driver took to his heels, and left the waggon and horses
so precipitately, that the whole were greatly endangered.
Francis Smith, the subject of this sketch, doubtless incensed at the
unknown person who was in the habit of assuming this supernatural
character, and thus frightening the superstitious inhabitants of the
village, rashly determined on watching for, and shooting the ghost; when
unfortunately he shot a poor man, named Thomas Milwood, a bricklayer,
who was in a white dress, the usual habiliment of his occupation. This
rash act having been judged wilful murder by the coroner's inquest,
Smith was committed to jail, and took his trial at the ensuing sessions
at the Old Bailey, on the 13th January.
The evidence adduced was, that the unfortunate deceased had quitted the
residence of his father and mother only five minutes before he was
killed; and that, as he was passing along Black Lion-lane, the prisoner
saw him and called out, "Damn you, who are you? I'll shoot you, if you
don't speak." No answer was returned, and the prisoner then fired and
the contents of his gun struck the deceased on the jaw, and he fell down
dead. The prisoner immediately went in search of assistance, but it was
found to be too late, and he then surrendered himself into custody. It
afterwards proved that he had agreed with a watchman to go in search of
the ghost; and that his only object was to rid the neighbourhood of the
visitor, who had occasioned so much mischievous alarm.
The defence set up was that no bad design actuated the prisoner in his
attack upon the supposed spirit, and many witnesses were called, who
proved the alarm which had been occasioned by the visits of a
preternatural being.
The Lord Chief Baron, Mr. Justice Rooke, and Mr. Justice Lawrence, who
were on the Bench, severally expressed their opinion, that the case
proved amounted to murder; and that if a man killed another by design,
without authority, but from a supposition that he ought to be killed,
the offence amounted to murder. The Jury attempted to bring in a verdict
of manslaughter only, but the opinion of the learned Judges being
repeated they returned a general verdict of guilty, and recommended the
prisoner to mercy.
The Recorder then passed sentence of death on the prisoner in the usual
form; which was, that he should be executed on the following Monday, and
his body given to the surgeons to be dissected.
The prisoner, who was dressed in a suit of black clothes, was
twenty-nine years of age, a short but well-made man, with dark hair and
eye brows; and the pallid hue of his countenance, during the whole
trial, together with all the signs of contrition which he exhibited,
commanded the sympathy of every spectator.
The case excited great interest, and the Court and its environs were
crowded during the trial, by persons anxious to learn his fate.
The Lord Chief Baron having told the jury, after they had given their
verdict, that he would immediately report the case to his Majesty, was
so speedy in this humane office, that a respite during pleasure was sent
to the Old Bailey before seven o'clock, and on the twenty-fifth, the
prisoner received a pardon on condition of his being imprisoned during
one year.
The ghost appears to have taken alarm at the consequences of his absurd
trifling with the feelings of his fellow subjects, and he was not again
seen.
We cannot dismiss this subject without referring to other cases of
supposed ghosts, which in their time attracted no inconsiderable portion
of public attention, and excited no small degree of alarm. The most
famous of these was known by the name of the "Cock Lane Ghost," and the
circumstances connected with the case are so curious, and afford so fair
a specimen of the easy credulity even of well-informed and otherwise
sensible people, that we feel little hesitation in placing an account of
them before our readers.
The Cock Lane Ghost kept London in a state of commotion for no short
time, and was the universal theme of conversation among the learned and
the illiterate, and in every circle of society, "from the prince to the
peasant." It appears that at the commencement of the year 1760, there
resided in Cock Lane, near West Smithfield, in the house of one Parsons,
the parish clerk of St. Sepulchre's, a stockbroker, named Kent. The wife
of this gentleman had died in child-bed during the previous year; and
his sister-in-law, Miss Fanny, had arrived from Norfolk to keep his
house for him. They soon conceived a mutual affection, and each of them
made a will in the other's favour. They lived some months in the house
of Parsons, who, being a needy man, borrowed money of his lodger. Some
differences arose betwixt them, and Mr. Kent left the house, and
instituted legal proceedings against the parish clerk for the recovery
of his money.
While this matter was yet pending, Miss Fanny was suddenly taken ill of
the small-pox, and, notwithstanding every care and attention, she died
in a few days, and was buried in a vault under Clerkenwell church.
Parsons now began to hint that the poor lady had come unfairly by her
death, and that Mr. Kent was accessory to it, from his too great
eagerness to niter into possession of the property she had bequeathed
him. Nothing further was said for nearly two years; but it would appear
that Parsons was of so revengeful a character, that he had never
forgotten or forgiven his differences with Mr. Kent, and the indignity
of having been sued for the borrowed money. The strong passions of pride
and avarice were silently at work during all that interval, hatching
schemes of revenge, but dismissing them one after the other as
impracticable, until, at last, a notable one suggested itself. About the
beginning of the year 1762, the alarm was spread over all the
neighbourhood of Cock Lane, that the house of Parsons was haunted by the
ghost of poor Fanny, and that the daughter of Parsons, a girl about
twelve years of age, had several times seen and conversed with the
spirit, who had, moreover, informed her, that she had not died of the
small-pox, as was currently reported, but of poison, administered by Mr.
Kent. Parsons, who originated, took good care to countenance these
reports; and, in answer to numerous inquiries, said his house was every
night, and had been for two years--in fact ever since the death of
Fanny, troubled by a loud knocking at the doors and in the walls. Having
thus prepared the ignorant and credulous neighbours to believe or
exaggerate for themselves what he had told them, he sent for a gentleman
of a higher class in life, to come and witness these extraordinary
occurrences. The gentleman came accordingly, and found the daughter of
Parsons, to whom the spirit alone appeared, and whom alone it answered,
in bed, trembling violently, having just seen the ghost, and been again
informed that she had died from poison. A loud knocking was also heard
from every part of the chamber, which so mystified the not very clear
understanding of the visiter, that he departed, afraid to doubt and
ashamed to believe, but with a promise to bring the clergyman of the
parish and several other gentlemen on the following day, to report upon
the mystery.
On the following night he returned, bringing with him three clergymen,
and about twenty other persons, including two negroes, when, upon a
consultation with Parsons, they resolved to sit up the whole night, and
await the ghost's arrival. It was then explained by Parsons, that
although the ghost would never render itself visible to anybody but his
daughter, it had no objection to answer the questions that might be put
to it by any person present, and that it expressed an affirmation by one
knock, a negative by two, and its displeasure by a kind of scratching.
The child was then put into bed along with her sister, and the clergymen
examined the bed and bed-clothes to satisfy themselves that no trick was
played, by knocking upon any substance concealed among the clothes, as,
on the previous night, the bed was observed to shake violently.
After some hours, during which they all waited with exemplary patience,
the mysterious knocking was heard in the wall, and the child declared
that she saw the ghost of poor Fanny. The following questions were then
gravely put by the clergyman, through the medium of one Mary Frazer, the
servant of Parsons, and to whom it was said the deceased lady had been
much attached. The answers were in the usual fashion, by a knock or
knocks:--
"Do you make this disturbance on account of the ill usage you received
from Mr. Kent?"--"Yes."
"Were you brought to an untimely end by poison?"--"Yes."
"How was the poison administered, in beer or in purl?"--"In purl."
"How long was that before your death?"--"About three hours."
"Can your former servant, Carrots, give any information about the
poison?"--"Yes."
"Are you Kent's wife's sister?"--"Yes."
"Were you married to Kent after your sister's death?"--"No."
"Was anybody else, besides Kent, concerned in your murder?"--"No."
"Can you, if you like, appear visibly to any one?"--"Yes."
"Will you do so?"--"Yes."
"Can you go out of this house?"--"Yes."
"Is it your intention to follow this child about everywhere?"--"Yes."
"Are you pleased in being asked these questions?"--"Yes."
"Does it ease your troubled soul?"--"Yes."
[Here there was heard a mysterious noise, which some wiseacre present
compared to the fluttering of wings.]
"How long before your death did you tell your servant, Carrots, that you
were poisoned?--An hour?"--"Yes."
[Carrots, who was present, was appealed to; but she stated positively
that such was not the fact, as the deceased was quite speechless an hour
before her death. This shook the faith of some of the spectators, but
the examination was allowed to continue.]
"How long did Carrots live with you?"--"Three or four days."
[Carrots was again appealed to, and said that this was true.]
"If Mr. Kent is arrested for this murder, will he confess?"--"Yes."
"Would your soul be at rest if he were hanged for it?"--"Yes."
"Will he be hanged for it?"--"Yes."
"How long a time first?"--"Three years."
"How many clergymen are there in this room?"--"Three."
"How many negroes?"--"Two."
"Is this watch (held up by one of the clergymen) white?"--"No."
"Is it yellow?"--"No."
"Is it blue?"--"No."
"Is it black?"--"Yes."
[The watch was in a black shagreen case.]
"At what time this morning will you take your departure?"
The answer to this question was four knocks, very distinctly heard by
every person present; and accordingly, at four o'clock precisely, the
ghost took its departure to the Wheatsheaf public-house, close by, where
it frightened mine host and his lady almost out of their wits by
knocking in the ceiling right above their bed.
The rumour of these occurrences very soon spread over London, and every
day Cock-lane was rendered impassable by the crowds of people who
assembled around the house of the parish clerk, in expectation of either
seeing the ghost or of hearing the mysterious knocks. It was at last
found necessary, so clamorous were they for admission within the haunted
precincts, to admit those only who would pay a certain fee; an
arrangement which was very convenient to the needy and money-loving Mr.
Parsons. Indeed, things had taken a turn greatly to his satisfaction;
he not only had his revenge, but he made a profit out of it. The ghost,
in consequence, played its antics every night, to the great amusement of
many hundreds of people, and the great perplexity of a still greater
number.
Unhappily, however, for the parish clerk, the ghost was induced to make
some promises which were the means of utterly destroying its reputation.
It promised, in answer to the questions of the Reverend Mr. Aldritch of
Clerkenwell, that it would not only follow the little Miss Parsons
wherever she went, but would also attend him, or any other gentleman,
into the vault under St. John's church, where the body of the murdered
woman was deposited, and would there give notice of its presence by a
distinct knock upon the coffin. As a preliminary, the girl was conveyed
to the house of Mr. Aldritch near the church, where a large party of
ladies and gentlemen, eminent for their acquirements, their rank, or
their wealth, had assembled. About ten o'clock on the night of the 1st
of February, the girl, having been brought from Cock-lane in a coach,
was put to bed by several ladies in the house of Mr. Aldritch, a strict
examination having been previously made that nothing was hidden in the
bedclothes. While the gentlemen, in an adjoining chamber, were
deliberating whether they should proceed in a body to the vault, they
were summoned into the bedroom by the ladies, who affirmed, in great
alarm, that the ghost was come, and that they heard the knocks and
scratches. The gentlemen entered accordingly, with a determination to
suffer no deception. The little girl, on being asked whether she saw the
ghost, replied, "No; but she felt it on her back like a mouse." She was
then required to put her hands out of bed, and they being held by some
of the ladies, the spirit was summoned in the usual manner to answer, if
it were in the room. The question was several times put with great
solemnity; but the customary knock was not heard in reply in the walls,
neither was there any scratching. The ghost was then asked to render
itself visible, but it did not choose to grant the request. It was next
solicited to give some token of its presence by a sound of any sort, or
by touching the hand or cheek of any lady or gentleman in the room; but
even with this request the ghost would not comply.
There was now a considerable pause, and one of the clergymen went
down-stairs to interrogate the father of the girl, who was waiting the
result of the experiment. He positively denied that there was any
deception, and even went so far as to say that he himself, upon one
occasion, had seen and conversed with the awful ghost. This having been
communicated to the company, it was unanimously resolved to give the
ghost another trial; and the clergyman called out in a loud voice to the
supposed spirit that the gentleman to whom it had promised to appear in
the vault was about to repair to that place, where he claimed the
fulfilment of its promise. At one hour after midnight they all proceeded
to the church, and the gentleman in question, with another, entered the
vault alone, and took up their position alongside of the coffin of poor
Fanny. The ghost was then summoned to appear, but it appeared not; it
was summoned to knock, but it knocked not; it was summoned to scratch,
but it scratched not; and the two retired from the vault, with the firm
belief that the whole business was a deception practised by Parsons and
his daughter. There were others, however, who did not wish to jump so
hastily to a conclusion, and who suggested that they were, perhaps,
trifling with this awful and supernatural being, which, being offended
with them for their presumption, would not condescend to answer them.
Again, after a serious consultation, it was agreed on all hands that, if
the ghost answered anybody at all, it would answer Mr. Kent, the
supposed murderer; and he was accordingly requested to go down into the
vault. He went with several others, and summoned the ghost to answer
whether he had indeed poisoned her. There being no answer, the question
was put by Mr. Aldritch, who conjured it, if it were indeed a spirit, to
end their doubts--make a sign of its presence, and point out the guilty
person. There being still no answer for the space of half an hour,
during which time all these boobies waited with the most praiseworthy
perseverance, they returned to the house of Mr. Aldritch, and ordered
the girl to get up and dress herself. She was strictly examined, but
persisted in her statement that she used no deception, and that the
ghost had really appeared to her.
So many persons had, by their openly expressed belief of the reality of
the visitation, identified themselves with it, that Parsons and his
family were far from being the only persons interested in the
continuance of the delusion. The result of the experiment convinced most
people; but these were not to be convinced by any evidence, however
positive, and they therefore spread about the rumour, that the ghost had
not appeared in the vault, because Mr. Kent had taken care beforehand to
have the coffin removed. That gentleman, whose position was a very
painful one, immediately procured competent witnesses, in whose presence
the vault was entered, and the coffin of poor Fanny opened. Their
deposition was then published; and Mr. Kent indicted Parsons and his
wife, his daughter, Mary Frazer the servant, the Rev. Mr. Moor, and a
tradesman, two of the most prominent patrons of the deception, for a
conspiracy. The trial came on in the Court of King's Bench, on the 10th
of July, before Lord Chief-Justice Mansfield, when, after an
investigation which lasted twelve hours, the whole of the conspirators
were found guilty. The Rev. Mr. Moor and his friend were severely
reprimanded in open court, and recommended to make some pecuniary
compensation to the prosecutor for the aspersions they had been
instrumental in throwing upon his character. Parsons was sentenced to
stand three times in the pillory, and to be imprisoned for two years:
his wife to one year's, and his servant to six months' imprisonment in
the Bridewell. A printer, who had been employed by them to publish an
account of the proceedings for their profit, was also fined fifty
pounds, and discharged.
The precise manner in which the deception was carried on has never been
explained. The knocking in the wall appears to have been the work of
Parsons' wife, while the scratching part of the business was left to the
little girl. That any contrivance so clumsy could have deceived anybody,
cannot fail to excite our wonder. But thus it always is. If two or three
persons can only be found to take the lead in any absurdity, however
great, there is sure to be plenty of imitators. Like sheep in a field,
if one clears the stile, the rest will follow.
About ten years afterwards, London was again alarmed by the story of a
haunted house. Stockwell, near Vauxhall, the scene of the antics of this
new ghost, became almost as celebrated in the annals of superstition as
Cock Lane. Mrs. Golding, an elderly lady, who resided alone with her
servant, Anne Robinson, was sorely surprised on the evening of
Twelfth-day, 1772, to observe a most extraordinary commotion among her
crockery. Cups and saucers rattled down the chimney--pots and pans were
whirled down stairs, or through the windows; and hams, cheeses, and
loaves of bread disported themselves upon the floor as if the devil were
in them. This, at least, was the conclusion that Mrs. Golding came to;
and being greatly alarmed, she invited some of her neighbours to stay
with her, and protect her from the evil one. Their presence, however,
did not put a stop to the insurrection of china, and every room in the
house was in a short time strewed with the fragments. The chairs and
tables joined, at last, in the tumult, and things looked altogether so
serious and inexplicable, that the neighbours, dreading that the house
itself would next be seized with a fit of motion, and tumble about their
ears, left poor Mrs. Golding to bear the brunt of it by herself. The
ghost in this case was solemnly remonstrated with, and urged to take its
departure; but the demolition continuing as great as before, Mrs.
Golding finally made up her mind to quit the house altogether. She took
refuge with Anne Robinson in the house of a neighbour; but his glass and
crockery being immediately subjected to the same persecution, he was
reluctantly compelled to give her notice to quit. The old lady, thus
forced back to her own house, endured the disturbance for some days
longer, when suspecting that Anne Robinson was the cause of all the
mischief, she dismissed her from her service. The extraordinary
appearances immediately ceased, and were never afterwards renewed; a
fact which is of itself sufficient to point out the real disturber. A
long time afterwards, Anne Robinson confessed the whole matter to the
Rev. Mr. Brayfield. This gentleman confided the story to Mr. Hone, who
has published an explanation of the mystery. Anne, it appears, was
anxious to have a clear house, to carry on an intrigue with her lover,
and resorted to this trick to effect her purpose. She placed the china
on the shelves in such a manner that it fell on the slightest motion,
and attached horse-hairs to other articles, so that she could jerk them
down from an adjoining room without being perceived by any one. She was
exceedingly dexterous at this sort of work, and would have proved a
formidable rival to many a juggler by profession.
In later days, the alarming vagaries of "Swing," and "Spring-heeled
Jack," have occasioned scarcely less alarm. Their claims to supernatural
powers have not been supported by such plausible evidence as those of
any of the ghosts which we have yet named, but their proceedings have
been no troublesome and mischievous to the well-disposed of the subjects
of this realm.
One or two anecdotes with regard to haunted houses, though rather beside
the immediate object of this work, may yet prove interesting, as
illustrative of the general subject of ghosts, and the degree of belief
to be put in such supernatural visitors.
One of the best stories which we recollect to have heard of a haunted
house, is that which is related of the Royal Palace at Woodstock, in the
year 1649, when the commissioners sent from London by the Long
Parliament to take possession of it, and efface all the emblems of
royalty about it, were fairly driven out by their fear of the devil, and
the annoyances they suffered from a roguish cavalier, who played the imp
to admiration. The commissioners, dreading at that time no devil,
arrived at Woodstock on the 13th of October 1649. They took up their
lodgings in the late King's apartments--turned the beautiful bed-rooms
and withdrawing-rooms into kitchens and sculleries--the council-hall
into a brewhouse, and made the dining-room a place to keep firewood in.
They pulled down all the insignia of royal state, and treated with the
utmost indignity everything that recalled to their memory the name or
the majesty of Charles Stuart. One Giles Sharp accompanied them in the
capacity of clerk, and seconded their efforts apparently with the
greatest zeal. He aided them to uproot a noble old tree, merely because
it was called the King's Oak, and tossed the fragments into the
dining-room to make cheerful fires for the commissioners. During the
first two days they heard some strange noises about the house, but they
paid no great attention to them. On the third, however, they began to
suspect they had got into bad company; for they heard, as they thought,
a supernatural dog under their bed, which gnawed their bedclothes. On
the next day the chairs and tables began to dance, apparently of their
own accord. On the fifth day, something came into the bedchamber and
walked up and down, and fetching the warming-pan out of the
withdrawing-room, made so much noise with it that they thought five
church-bells were ringing in their ears. On the sixth day, the plates
and dishes were thrown up and down the dining-room. On the seventh, they
penetrated into the bed-room in company with several logs of wood, and
usurped the soft pillows intended for the commissioners. On the eighth
and ninth nights, there was a cessation of hostilities; but on the tenth
the bricks in the chimneys became locomotive, and rattled and danced
about the floors, and round the heads of the commissioners all the night
long. On the eleventh, the demon ran away with their breeches; and on
the twelfth filled their beds so full of pewter-platters that they could
not get into them. On the thirteenth night, the glass became
unaccountably seized with a fit of cracking, and fell into shivers in
all parts of the house. On the fourteenth, there was a noise as if forty
pieces of artillery had been fired off, and a shower of pebble-stones,
which so alarmed the commissioners, that, "struck with great horror,
they cried out to one another for help."
They first of all tried the efficacy of prayers to drive away the evil
spirits; but these proving unavailing, they began seriously to reflect
whether it would not be much better to leave the place altogether to the
devil that inhabited it. They ultimately resolved, however, to try it a
little longer; and having craved forgiveness of all their sins, betook
themselves to bed. That night they slept in tolerable comfort, but it
was merely a trick of their tormentor to lull them into false security.
When, on the succeeding night, they heard no noises, they began to
flatter themselves that the devil was driven out, and prepared
accordingly to take up their quarters for the whole winter in the
palace. These symptoms on their part became the signal for renewed
uproar among the fiends. On the 1st of November, they heard something
walking with a slow and solemn pace up and down the withdrawing-room,
and immediately afterwards a shower of stones, bricks, mortar, and
broken glass pelted about their ears. On the 2nd the steps were again
heard in the withdrawing-room, sounding to their fancy very much like
the treading of an enormous bear, which continued for about a quarter of
an hour. This noise having ceased, a
[Illustration: _Witchery at Woodstock._
_P. 406._]
large warming-pan was thrown violently upon the table, followed by a
number of stones, and the jawbone of a horse. Some of the boldest walked
valiantly into the withdrawing-room, armed with swords and pistols, but
could discover nothing. They were afraid that night to go to sleep, and
sat up, making fires in every room, and burning candles and lamps in
great abundance; thinking that, as the fiends loved darkness, they would
not disturb a company surrounded with so much light. They were deceived,
however: buckets of water came down the chimneys and extinguished the
fires, and the candles were blown out, they knew not how. Some of the
servants who had betaken themselves to bed were drenched with putrid
ditch-water as they lay; and arose in great fright, muttering incoherent
prayers, and exposing to the wondering eyes of the commissioners their
linen all dripping with green moisture, and their knuckles red with the
blows they had at the same time received from some invisible tormentors.
While they were still speaking, there was a noise like the loudest
thunder, or the firing of a whole park of artillery; upon which they all
fell down upon their knees and implored the protection of the Almighty.
One of the commissioners then arose, the others still kneeling, and
asked in a courageous voice, and in the name of God, who was there, and
what they had done that they should be troubled in that manner. No
answer was returned, and the noises ceased for a while. At length,
however, as the commissioners said, "the devil came again, and brought
with it seven devils worse than itself." Being again in darkness, they
lighted a candle and placed it in the doorway that it might throw a
light upon the two chambers at once; but it was suddenly blown out, and
one commissioner said that he had "seen the similitude of a horse's hoof
striking the candle and candlestick into the middle of the chamber, and
afterwards making three escapes on the snuff to put it out." Upon this,
the same person was so bold as to draw his sword; but he asserted
positively that he had hardly withdrawn it from the scabbard before an
invisible hand seized hold of it and tugged with him for it, and
prevailing, struck him so violent a blow with the pommel that he was
quite stunned. Then the noises began again; upon which, with one accord,
they all retired into the presence-chamber, where they passed the night,
praying and singing psalms.
They were by this time convinced that it was useless to struggle any
longer with the powers of evil, that seemed determined to make Woodstock
their own. These things happened on the Saturday night; and, being
repeated on the Sunday, they determined to leave the place immediately,
and return to London. By Tuesday morning early, all their preparations
were completed; and shaking the dust off their feet, and devoting
Woodstock and all its inhabitants to the infernal gods, they finally
took their departure.[15]
Many years elapsed before the true cause of these disturbances was
discovered. It was ascertained, at the Restoration, that the whole was
the work of Giles Sharp, the trusty clerk of the commissioners. This man
whose real name was Joseph Collins, was a concealed royalist, and had
passed his early life within the bowers of Woodstock; so that he knew
every hole and corner of the place, and the numerous trap-doors and
secret passages that abounded in the building. The commissioners, never
suspecting the true state of his opinions, but believing him to be
revolutionary to the back-bone, placed the utmost reliance upon him; a
confidence which he abused in the manner above detailed, to his own
great amusement, and that of the few cavaliers whom he let into the
secret.
Quite as extraordinary and as cleverly managed was the trick played off
at Tedworth, in 1661, at the house of Mr. Mompesson, and which is so
circumstantially narrated by the Rev. Joseph Glanvil, under the title of
"The Demon of Tedworth," and appended, among other proofs of witchcraft,
to his noted work, called "Sadducismus Triumphatus." About the middle of
April, in the year above mentioned, Mr. Mompesson, having returned to
his house at Tedworth, from a journey he had taken to London, was
informed by his wife that during his absence they had been troubled with
the most extraordinary noises. Three nights afterwards he heard the
noise himself; and it appeared to him to be that of "a great knocking at
his doors, and on the outside of his walls." He immediately arose,
dressed himself, took down a pair of pistols, and walked valiantly forth
to discover the disturber, under the impression that it must be a
robber; but, as he went, the noise seemed to travel before or behind
him; and, when he arrived at the door from which he thought it
proceeded, he saw nothing, but still heard "a strange hollow sound." He
puzzled his brains for a long time, and searched every corner of the
house; but, discovering nothing, he went to bed again. He was no sooner
snug under the clothes, than the noise began again more furiously than
ever, sounding very much like a "thumping and drumming on the top of his
house, and then by degrees going off into the air."
These things continued for several nights, when it came to the
recollection of Mr. Mompesson that, some time before, he had given
orders for the arrest and imprisonment of a wandering drummer, who went
about the country with a large drum, disturbing quiet people and
soliciting alms, and that he had detained the man's drum, and that,
probably, the drummer was a wizard, and had sent evil spirits to haunt
his house, to be revenged of him. He became strengthened in his opinion
every day, especially when the noises assumed, to his fancy, a
resemblance to the beating of a drum, "like that at the breaking up of a
guard." Mrs. Mompesson being brought to bed, the devil, or the drummer,
very kindly and considerately refrained from making the usual riot; but,
as soon as she recovered strength, began again, "in a ruder manner than
before, following and vexing the young children, and beating their
bedsteads with so much violence that every one expected they would fall
in pieces." For an hour together, as the worthy Mr. Mompesson repeated
to his wondering neighbours, this infernal drummer "would beat
'Roundheads and Cuckolds,' the 'Tat-too,' and several other points of
war, as cleverly as any soldier." When this had lasted long enough, he
changed his tactics, and scratched with his iron talons under the
children's bed. "On the 5th of November," says the Rev. Joseph Glanvil,
"it made a mighty noise; and a servant, observing two boards in the
children's room seeming to move, he bid it give him one of them. Upon
which the board came (nothing moving it, that he saw) within a yard of
him. The man added, 'Nay, let me have it in my hand;' upon which the
spirit, devil, or drummer, pushed it towards him so close, that he might
touch it. This," continues Glanvil, "was in the day-time, and was seen
by a whole room-full of people. That morning it left a sulphurous smell
behind it, which was very offensive. At night the minister, one Mr.
Cragg, and several of the neighbours, came to the house on a visit. Mr.
Cragg went to prayers with them, kneeling at the children's bedside,
where it then became very troublesome and loud. During prayer-time, the
spirit withdrew into the cock-loft, but returned as soon as prayers were
done; and then, in sight of the company, the chairs walked about the
room of themselves, the children's shoes were hurled over their heads,
and every loose thing moved about the chamber. At the same time, a
bed-staff was thrown at the minister, which hit him on the leg, but so
favourably, that a lock of wool could not have fallen more softly." On
another occasion, the blacksmith of the village, a fellow who cared
neither for ghost nor devil, slept with John the footman, that he also
might hear the disturbance, and be cured of his incredulity, when there
"came a noise in the room, as if one had been shoeing a horse, and
somewhat came, as it were, with a pair of pinchers," snipping and
snapping at the poor blacksmith's nose the greater part of the night.
Next day it came, panting like a dog out of breath; upon which some
woman present took a bed-staff to knock at it, "which was caught
suddenly out of her hand, and thrown away; and company coming up, the
room was presently filled with a _bloomy noisome smell_, and was very
hot, though without fire, in a very sharp and severe winter. It
continued in the bed, panting and scratching for an hour and a half, and
then went into the next room, where it knocked a little, and seemed to
rattle a chain."
The rumour of these wonderful occurrences soon spread all over the
country, and people from far and near flocked to the haunted house of
Tedworth, to believe or doubt, as their natures led them, but all filled
with intense curiosity. It appears, too, that the fame of these events
reached the royal ear, and that some gentlemen were sent by the King to
investigate the circumstances, and draw up a report of what they saw or
heard. Whether the royal commissioners were more sensible men than the
neighbours of Mr. Mompesson, and required more clear and positive
evidence than they, or whether the powers with which they were armed to
punish anybody who might be found carrying on this deception frightened
the evil-doers, is not certain; but Glanvil himself confesses, that all
the time they were in the house the noises ceased, and nothing was heard
or seen. "However," says he, "as to the quiet of the house when the
courtiers were there, the intermission may have been accidental, or
perhaps the demon was not willing to give so public a testimony of those
transactions which might possibly convince those who he had rather
should continue in unbelief of his existence."
As soon as the royal commissioners took their departure, the infernal
drummer recommenced his antics, and hundreds of persons were daily
present to hear and wonder. Mr. Mompesson's servant was so fortunate as
not only to hear, but to see this pertinacious demon; for it came and
stood at the foot of his bed. The exact shape and proportion of it he
could not discover; but "he saw a great body, with two red and glaring
eyes, which, for some time, were fixed steadily on him, and at length
disappeared." Innumerable were the antics it played. Once it purred like
a cat; beat the children's legs black and blue; put a long spike into
Mr. Mompesson's bed, and a knife into his mother's; filled the
porringers with ashes; hid a Bible under the grate; and turned the
money black in people's pockets. "One night," says Mr. Mompesson, "there
were seven or eight of these devils in the shape of men, who, as soon as
a gun was fired, would shuffle away into an arbour;" a circumstance
which might have convinced Mr. Mompesson of the mortal nature of his
persecutors, if he had not been of the number of those worse than blind,
who shut their eyes, and refuse to see.
In the mean time, the drummer, the supposed cause of all the mischief,
passed his time in Gloucester gaol, whither he had been committed as a
rogue and a vagabond. Being visited one day by some person from the
neighbourhood of Tedworth, he asked what was the news in Wiltshire, and
whether people did not talk a great deal about a drumming in a
gentleman's house there? The visiter replied, that he heard of nothing
else; upon which the drummer observed, "I have done it; I have thus
plagued him! and he shall never be quiet until he hath made me
satisfaction for taking away my drum." No doubt the fellow, who seems to
have been a gipsy, spoke the truth, and that the gang of which he was a
member knew more about the noises at Mr. Mompesson's house than anybody
else. Upon these words, however, he was brought to trial at Salisbury
for witchcraft; and, being found guilty, was sentenced to
transportation; a sentence which, for its leniency, excited no little
wonder in that age, when such an accusation, whether proved or not,
generally insured the stake or the gibbet. Glanvil says, that the noises
ceased immediately the drummer was sent beyond the seas; but that,
somehow or other, he managed to return from transportation,--"by raising
storms and affrighting the seamen, it was said;" when the disturbances
were forthwith renewed, and continued at intervals for several years. It
was believed by many at the time, that Mr. Mompesson himself was privy
to the whole matter, and permitted and encouraged these tricks in his
house for the sake of notoriety; but it seems more probable that the
gipsies were the real delinquents, and that Mr. Mompesson was as much
alarmed and bewildered as his credulous neighbours, whose excited
imaginations conjured up no small portion of these stories,--
"Which roll'd, and, as they roll'd, grew larger every hour."
Many instances of a similar kind, during the seventeenth century, might
be gleaned from Glanvil and other writers of that period; but they do
not differ sufficiently from these to justify a detail of them.
ROBERT ASLETT,
CONDEMNED TO DEATH FOR EMBEZZLING PUBLIC PROPERTY.
Mr. Aslett had been in the employ of the Governor and Company of the
Bank of England for about twenty-five years, and had conducted himself
faithfully and meritoriously until he was induced, unfortunately, to
speculate in the funds; when, in dereliction of that duty and fidelity
which he owed to his employers, he subtracted immense sums from the
property entrusted to his care.
In the year 1799, having gone through the necessary and regular
gradations, he was appointed one of the cashiers. It was a part of the
business of the Bank to purchase exchequer bills, to supply the
exigencies of government; and the purchases were entrusted to the care
of Mr. A. Newland; but on account of that gentleman's growing
infirmities, he having been fifty-eight years in the service of the
Bank, the management was left wholly under the care and direction of Mr.
Aslett. The purchases were made of Mr. Goldsmid, by the means of Mr.
Templeman, a broker. It was usual to make out a bill in the name of the
person from whom they were made, which was delivered to Mr. Aslett, to
examine and enter in what is called the Bought-book, and he gave orders
to the cashiers to reimburse the broker. The bills were afterwards
deposited in a strong chest, kept in Mr. Newland's room; and when they
had increased in bulk by subsequent purchases, they were selected by Mr.
Aslett, who tied them up in large bundles, and carried them to the
parlour, that is to say, the room in which the Directors held their
meetings, accompanied by one of the clerks, with the original book of
entry, when the Directors in waiting received the envelope, and
deposited it in the strong iron chest, which had three keys, and to
which none but the Directors had access; and from which it could not be
brought forth until the time of payment, unless by consent of at least
two of the Directors. Therefore it was not possible for them to find
their way into the hands of the public or the monied market, unless
embezzled for that purpose. On the 26th of February, 1803, Mr. Aslett,
according to the practice, made up three envelopes of exchequer bills,
of 1000_l._ each bill; the first containing bills to the amount of
100,000_l._, the second 200,000_l._, and the third 400,000_l._; making
in the whole 700,000_l._ These were, or in fact ought to have been,
carried into the parlour, and were signed as being received by two of
the Directors, Messrs. Paget and Smith; but one of the bundles, namely,
that containing the 200,000_l._ worth of bills, was withdrawn.
The confidence which the Governor and Company had placed in Mr. Aslett
had enabled him to conceal the transaction from the 26th of February to
the 9th of April; but on that day, in consequence of an application made
by Mr. Bish, the whole was discovered. On the 16th of March, Mr. Aslett
went to that gentleman, and requested he would purchase for him
50,000_l._ Consols, to which request no objection was made, provided he
deposited the requisite securities. The fluctuation of the market at
that time was six per cent., and Aslett, in order to cover any deficit,
deposited with Mr. Bish three exchequer bills, Nos. 341, 1060, and 2694,
which he knew had been previously deposited in the Bank. From some
circumstances, and from his general knowledge of the whole of the
business of the funds, Mr. Bish suspected all was not right, and he
accordingly went to the Bank, where an investigation took place, at
which Mr. B. Watson, one of the Directors, was present. Mr. Newland was
sent for, and asked whether any of the exchequer bills could, by
possibility, get into the market again from the Bank? To which he
answered in the negative, observing that they were a dormant security.
The same question was put to Mr. Aslett, and the same answer given by
him. It was found necessary to tell him that the bills in question,
which could be proved to have been in the Bank, had found their way into
the money-market; and at the same time it was observed, that he had made
purchases, to a large amount, of stock, with the bills: this was
acknowledged by him; but he said he had done so for a friend, named
Hosier, residing at the west end of the town; and he declared that they
were not Bank property, nor to be found in the Bought-book. The
Directors, however, were not satisfied on this point, and he was
immediately secured. His trial was postponed to July, as it occurred to
those employed in the prosecution that the bills in question had been
issued with an informality in them, not having the signature of the
Auditor of the Exchequer. They were aware of the objections that might
be taken, and Parliament not then being sitting, it was thought
advisable to postpone the trial, lest it might create an alarm in the
money-market. The fact was no sooner known, than a bill was brought into
Parliament for remedying those defects, and to render the bills valid.
On Friday, July 8, 1804, Mr. Aslett's trial commenced. Mr. Garrow, on
the part of the prosecution, stated the facts above mentioned; but when
about to call witnesses to give evidence, Mr. Erskine insisted that the
exchequer bills, which the prisoner stood charged with having stolen,
were not good bills till the act of parliament had made them so, and
consequently that they were pieces of waste paper when stolen. The Chief
Baron Macdonald, Mr. Justice Rooke, and Mr. Justice Lawrence concurred,
that the present indictment could not be maintained; and the jury were
accordingly desired to acquit the prisoner.
He was afterwards, however, tried on nine other indictments, the
evidence being the same, Mr. Garrow having applied to the Court to
detain him in custody, it being, he said, the intention of the Bank
Directors to issue a civil process against him for one hundred thousand
pounds, and upwards, the moneys paid for the bills which he had
converted to his own use.
Mr. Kirby at first hesitated to receive the prisoner, understanding he
was acquitted; but was peremptorily desired by the Court to take him
back.
Mr. Aslett was dressed in a lightish brown coat, his hair being full
powdered. He appeared quite collected, but held down his head, never
once looking up, except when the application was made to keep him in
custody, when he expressed symptoms of great surprise, and looked very
steadfastly at the Court.
On Saturday, September 17, Mr. Aslett was again brought to the bar of
the Old Bailey, before Baron Chambre and Mr. Justice Le Blanc. The
prisoner was attended by four or five gentlemen, who continued in the
Dock during the whole time of the trial.
Three indictments were read, with two counts in each, charging the
prisoner with secreting and embezzling three notes. The first indictment
was, for that he, being an officer or servant of the Governor and
Company of the Bank of England, had secreted and embezzled a certain
piece of paper, partly written, and partly printed, being No. 835,
purporting to be of the value of five hundred pounds; the second, 2694,
for one thousand pounds; and the third, No. 6061, for one thousand
pounds. One count in each stated them as securities, and the other as
effects belonging to the said Governor and Company. There were other
counts, diversifying the statement of the property in other forms, such
as were deemed to come within the law.
Mr. Garrow stated the case at considerable length to the jury. There was
one point, to which he called particular attention, and that was that
the prisoner had been tried before, and acquitted of the offence of
purloining exchequer bills to an immense amount; as it was then proved
to the satisfaction of the learned judges on the bench, for whom he
entertained the highest respect, that they were not actually such as
might in law be termed exchequer bills, in consequence of their not
having been signed as the act directs. The present indictments, however,
stated them as papers _purporting_ to be exchequer bills, which they
evidently were on the face of them, and subdivided the charge, by
stating them one time as securities, and at another time as effects
belonging to the Company. This he had no doubt that the jury would be
convinced of upon hearing them read; and it was an important duty which
the Bank owed to the public, that they should not suffer so great a
delinquent to escape the justice of the country, in consequence of any
want of exertion on their part.
Mr. Erskine, in behalf of the prisoner, delivered a most animated
address to the jury. He stated, that the former indictments against the
gentleman at the bar had been objected to on grounds which were approved
of by the learned judges who then sat upon the bench.--He was now
brought up again to be tried for exactly the same offence, though
differently stated; and he thought that the present proceeding was
liable to the same objections which were then admitted to be valid by
the bench; but he should oppose it on much stronger grounds. He then
objected to the legality of Mr. Jenning's signature, in the place of
that of Lord Grenville, as Auditor of the Exchequer. That the same
illegality in a criminal sense existed with respect to all bills issued
at that time from the Exchequer, was manifest from the circumstance of
the legislature having found it necessary to pass an act expressly for
the purpose of making them legal in a civil view; and that act had a
most humane proviso, which declared, in plain terms, that the act was to
be considered to make the exchequer bills issued at that time valid only
in a civil view, and was not to have any retrospective view to any
criminal offence committed before the passing of that act. The learned
gentleman stated, that as securities, they were nothing in law, for a
person, at the time of their being passed, could not recover at law. As
to the idea of calling them effects, he considered that, though the
legislature had thought proper to pass an act for the protection of that
company above all others, by passing what is generally termed the Bank
Act, in consequence of the immense magnitude of that concern, yet
effects must obviously mean the same as in a case of petty larceny would
be considered as effects, that is something intrinsically valuable in
themselves, without taking in or mixing in the mind the idea of their
professed or avowed value. If that was not the case, a clerk who took
away a loose half sheet of paper lying about the office, or a pen that
was worn to the stump, came within the limits of the act, and would be
liable to a prosecution for felony. If he did not know the highly
respectable character which that Company supported, and the very great
ability by which they were counselled, he should be induced to say that
the prosecution of the gentleman at the bar a second time, for exactly
the same offence of which he had been before acquitted by law, was
vexatious; and he should declare, not only as a lawyer, but as a man,
that they were rather inclined to be severe towards the prisoner, than
that they should be thought in the least to relax from their duty, or
from an idea of justice to the public. The articles stated in the
indictments must either be really and _bonâ fide_ exchequer bills, or
else they were no securities; they were no effects in law; they were no
more than pieces of waste paper, for the embezzlement of which he had
never known a prosecution to be sustained at law. The generosity of
government, or the justice of the country, could not at that time pay a
single farthing for them; the strings of the national purse were only to
be drawn by the consent of the legislature, and at that time there was
no such consent obtained; the articles in the indictment were at that
time nothing but so many pieces of waste, printed, and written paper,
which had not been called into existence as anything of valuable
property, as any effects belonging to the Bank which had obtained the
sanction of Parliament; they had not been animated by the breath of the
legislature. The learned gentleman then quoted several cases from the
Reports, showing that chattels or effects must be something valuable
intrinsically in themselves; and said that it was his firm belief that
the learned judges at present on the bench would deliver an opinion
similar in effect to that which had already been delivered by the
learned judges sitting on that bench at the time of Mr. Aslett's former
trial: he believed that they would find themselves in the same
situation, and instruct the jury to find a verdict for the acquittal of
that gentleman without hearing any evidence upon the case; as in his
opinion it was not such as could be supported in law.
Mr. Serjeant Best followed on the same side, and the Court determined to
reserve the point for consideration. Evidence was then given in proof of
the facts stated at the beginning of this article, and the jury returned
a verdict of Guilty.
Mr. Aslett betrayed neither a symptom of fear, nor levity, but seemed to
pay the greatest attention to everything that passed, and conducted
himself with a becoming firmness throughout the whole of the trial. When
the verdict was pronounced, there was a great buz in the Court: Mr.
Aslett waited for about two minutes, then bowed to the Court, and
withdrew, accompanied by his friends.
On February 16, 1804, Mr. Aslett was brought to the bar to receive his
sentence, when Mr. Baron Hothan addressed him as follows:--
"Robert Aslett, you were tried and convicted in this Court, in the
September sessions, 1803, for embezzling effects belonging to the
Governor and Company of the Bank of England, you being an officer and
servant of that Bank, and, as such, entrusted with their property. It
was argued by your counsel, that the bills were not valid or legal
bills, having been signed by a person not properly authorised by Lord
Grenville, though they had been issued as good, and paid as such. On
this indictment you have been lawfully convicted by a jury of your
countrymen; but judgment has been suspended till the opinion of the
twelve judges of England was taken on this important case, in order to
ascertain whether these bills were good, according to the statute 15
Geo. II. Eleven of these judges were of opinion that some of the
objections, so ably argued by your counsel, should be sustained; they
have since held various conferences, which produced various different
opinions; and it is now my duty to communicate to you the result of
their investigation. Several points were urged in your favour, upon all
of which, however except one, the Judges have given their decision
against you. The only material question for consideration was, whether
or not these bills fall within the meaning of the statute 15 Geo. II.,
and can be denominated effects according to that act. On this point,
indeed, the judges were not unanimous, but the majority are of opinion
that they are effects and securities within the true meaning of the act.
The great object of the legislature was to add security and administer
protection to the Bank of England. The immense national concerns with
which it was and still is entrusted, called upon the legislature for
particular provisions in its favour. The principles of legislation must
now be applied to the object under contemplation; and the view we take
of any code of laws must be more comprehensive when it concerns so
materially such a large incorporated body, than when it only relates to
private individuals. Considering this law then in the enlarged and
liberal view on which it was framed by the legislature (at the same time
that all the judges disclaim any wish to strain any part of it where it
is so penal,) the recollection of the enormous weight of exchequer
bills, in which the public were so deeply and materially concerned,
cannot fail to occur to every mind. That these bills had become the fair
and valuable property of the Bank was allowed on all hands; but still it
was argued that they were not such securities as fell within the true
meaning of the Act of Parliament, because they were not of any positive
or intrinsic value. Now, whatever shall be deposited with the Bank, was
expressly guarded by the words of the act; and although the bills in
question be of no descriptive legal value, yet they carry about them
such a consequence at least as may make their preservation of the utmost
importance to the Bank. In that view, therefore, they surely have their
value. They are at least valuable papers, whatever they may be called,
and the holders of them have them as such, having paid for them the
value which they respectively import. They are therefore to be included
in the true meaning of the word securities, which may be in the end
available to any person who may be possessed of them."
The conviction was therefore determined to be good, and on the following
Monday, 20th February, 1804, this unfortunate man received sentence of
death. This punishment was, however, subsequently commuted to
transportation.
SAMUEL WILD MITCHELL.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This wretched man was hanged for the murder of his daughter, Sarah
Mitchell, a girl about twelve years of age. He was a spinner living in
Spitalfields, and he had brought the girl up as an apprentice to his
trade. It would appear that frequent disputes took place between him and
his wife, in consequence of which he became subject to frequent violent
bursts of passion. It was on the occasion of his having excited himself
to a degree of rage amounting to madness, that he committed the crime
for which he was hanged. The girl was sitting at her work, when her
father came into the room, and suddenly attacking her, cut her throat
through the windpipe with a razor, which he held in his hand. He
immediately afterwards ran from the house, but was apprehended
subsequently on the same evening, when he made a full confession of his
crime. On his trial, which took place at the Old Bailey on the 11th of
January, 1805, he presented a miserable aspect. Almost bereft of reason
by the dreadful deed which he had committed, he seemed for some time
unconscious of what was passing around him. His hair was grey, and his
head was covered with an old miserable nightcap.
Evidence as to the fact of the murder was adduced, and the prisoner's
confession was also read. He said--"I had a daughter named Sally, and my
wife had a daughter named Elizabeth, who at one time did live with me,
but whom I afterwards took to my apartment, where I instructed her in
the art of weaving, and we lived all together: this said daughter of my
wife's caused some uneasiness, as I thought; and I thought my wife was
more indulgent of her faults, and favoured her more than she ought,
which was the reason of our separation on the 17th of December last; my
wife also took with her Sarah Mitchell, whom I loved with the most
ardent affection, which vexed me a great deal, as I saw there would be a
continual dispute. I could not bear the little girl coming to see me, as
coming on a visit. I resolved that neither my wife nor me should possess
her. I seized the moment of the mother going away; the child was sitting
by the fire winding quills. I took the razor from the drawer; my
affection made me almost lay it down again, but my resolution overcame
that. I turned round, and cut her throat. I was too resolute to make a
faint attempt; the child was dead in a moment; she neither made noise
nor resistance. When I had done the deed, the child fell. As I went out,
I saw her blood; then I ran down stairs. After this act was done to my
child, Sarah Mitchell, I went to a man named Bell, where I had lived,
and left word for him to run and secure my master's work; then I went to
Mr. Dellafour, and my friends at Wapping."
The prisoner, on his being called on for his defence, at once admitted
that he was guilty of the crime imputed to him, but declared that he was
led on to its commission by a mind which had been deranged by the
frequent quarrels which he had with his wife.
The jury having found him guilty, the prisoner was asked what he had to
say for himself, why sentence of death should not be passed according to
law? He distinctly replied, "I have nothing to say."
The awful sentence, that he was to be hanged on the succeeding Monday,
and his body afterwards dissected and anatomized, was immediately
pronounced by the recorder; which the prisoner heard without any visible
emotion. The court was crowded in almost every part, and particularly
with ladies; and not only the women, but even the jury, the counsel, and
nearly all present, were melted into tears. During the whole trial the
prisoner appeared calm, but not insensible. He was very attentive to the
evidence, and appeared frequently to utter a low ejaculation.
On the morning after his trial, this unhappy man expressed a desire to
see his wife, that they might exchange forgiveness. The day following
(Sunday) she came to visit him in Newgate, but was so ill that she was
obliged to be conveyed in a hackney-coach, supported between two
friends. As soon as the distressing interview was over, he applied
himself devoutly to prayer, in which he continued nearly the whole of
the day. On that day he was extremely solicitous to obtain Dr. Ford's
promise to publish to the world that he died in the faith of the Church
of England; as it had been generally understood that he belonged to the
sect denominated Methodists. At half-past six o'clock on Monday morning
Mitchell's cell was unlocked, and the Ordinary attended him to the
chapel to prayers; which being concluded, he returned to the Press-yard,
and there walked for some time, holding two friends by the arms;
meanwhile his mind was occupied with his unhappy situation; and he
begged of all around him to pray with him. The unhappy man blessed the
memory of his murdered child, and trusted the sacrifice he was about to
make would, in some degree, expiate his crime in heaven, which he did
not despair to see.
His last petition was to the sheriffs, to request that, after the
surgeons had practised upon his body, his mangled remains might be given
to his daughter, for burial; which request the sheriffs promised should
be complied with.
The wretched being seemed to attend with much earnestness and fervour to
the clergyman, and he was seen to clasp his hands together the instant
the rope was fixed. After the drop fell he appeared to feel great pain,
as he swung round twice, which was occasioned by the violence of the
convulsive struggles he sustained.
He suffered before Newgate, January the 14th 1805, and, after hanging
the usual time, was taken to St. Bartholomew's hospital for dissection.
RICHARD HAYWOOD.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBERY.
The termination of the career of this criminal exhibited him to be a man
of the most depraved and diabolical disposition.
He was indicted for having stolen two pillows and two bolsters, value
10s., the property of Richard Crabtree, and also for cutting Benjamin
Chantrey with a certain sharp instrument, in order to prevent his
apprehension.
It appears that some suspicions being entertained of an intention to rob
Mr. Crabtree's house, which was left unoccupied, although furnished.
Miss Jenkins the cousin of that gentleman, and a Mrs. Wilson, determined
to watch it, and they accordingly took their station in the house of a
Mr. Wilkinson, situated directly opposite to it, in Thayer-street,
Manchester-square. They had not been long on the look-out, before they
saw two men enter it, having opened the door with a key. Mrs. Wilson, in
consequence, went and knocked at the door, on which the two men ran out,
and one running to the left made his escape, while the other (the
prisoner) made a blow at Mrs. Wilson, and ran to the right. He was
afterwards pursued by a Mr. Holford, and on Mr. Chantrey stepping out
from his own house to seize him, he struck him a violent blow on the
head with an iron crowbar. He was eventually secured, and it was then
found, that the articles mentioned in the indictment had been removed
ready to be carried off.
After conviction, the prisoner behaved with shocking depravity, seeming
to exult in his guilt, and regretting he had not done a deed more
deserving of death. It was his constant boast that he would, on the
scaffold, surpass the notorious Avershaw in evincing his contempt for
life; and he constantly endeavoured to instil into the mind of his
fellow-sufferer those diabolical principles which he had imbibed
himself.
His fellow-sufferer was John Tennant, who had lived as footman with
Robert Shaw, Esq. a solicitor, in New Bridge-street, Blackfriars; but,
inflated with the _ambition_ of keeping a public-house, he quitted his
service, and obtained the command of a tap in Little Suffolk-street,
Dirty-lane, behind the King's Bench Prison. Finding his golden prospects
in a public-house, in a great measure, delusive, he determined on
robbing his late master, Mr. Shaw; and, being well acquainted with his
house, broke open his money-drawers, and stole to the amount of more
than five thousand pounds in cash, bank-notes, and other property. With
such a prize such a man could not long remain unsuspected, and he was
soon detected in passing some of the stolen notes. The relentless
Haywood corrupted the mind of Tennant, and, in the condemned cells,
stimulated him to follow his horrid example. They uttered the most
blasphemous expressions, and sang lewd songs during the whole time they
ought to have been employed in making their peace with offended Heaven.
When the keeper went to warn them of their approaching execution, they
behaved in so riotous a manner, that it was necessary to secure them
with irons to the floor. Haywood, who was supposed to have procured a
knife from his wife, while she was permitted to see him, rushed upon the
keeper, and would have stabbed him with it if he had not left the cell.
They uttered the most horrid imprecations; and, after declaring, in cant
terms, that they would _die game_, threatened to murder the Ordinary if
he attempted to visit them. Their behaviour, in other respects, was so
abandoned, that the necessary attendants were deterred from further
interference, and left them to the dreadful fate which awaited them.
When the time for quitting the court-yard arrived, Haywood called to a
friend, who was present, to deliver him a bundle he had in his hand, out
of which he took an old jacket, and a pair of old shoes, and put them
on. "Thus," said he, "will I defeat the prophecies of my enemies: they
have often said I would die in my coat and shoes, and I am determined to
die in neither." Being told it was time to be conducted to the scaffold,
he cheerfully attended the summons, having first eaten some bread and
cheese, and drunk a quantity of coffee. Before, however, he departed, he
called out in a loud voice to the prisoners, who were looking through
the upper windows at him, "Farewell, my lads; I am just going off: God
bless you."--"We are sorry for you," replied the prisoners. "I want none
of your pity," rejoined Haywood; "keep your snivelling till it be your
own turn." Immediately on his arrival upon the scaffold, in a loud
laugh, he gave the mob three cheers, introducing each with a "Hip, ho!"
While the cord was preparing, he continued hallooing to the mob, "How
are you?--Well, here goes." It was found necessary, before the usual
time, to put the cap over his eyes, besides a silk handkerchief, by way
of bandage, that his attention might be entirely abstracted from the
spectators.
At the suggestion of Mr. Holdsworth, however, Tennant made some
alteration in his conduct. This officer, finding his advice attended to
in this instance, entreated him no longer to follow the evil counsel of
Haywood, but to employ the few moments he had left in a Christian-like
manner. Tennant shed tears, showed some contrition, and suffered the
Ordinary to attend him to the scaffold. Dr. Ford continued in prayer
with him; and, though he did not join with, yet he listened to him
attentively. He came on the platform with great resolution, but did not
then follow the daring and abandoned example of his companion: he was
cleanly dressed, and observed a suitable propriety of conduct; he shook
hands with Haywood; and, just as the noose was placed round his neck, he
emphatically exclaimed, "Lord, have mercy upon me!" Haywood uttered some
words in reply, which were not perfectly understood, but were supposed
to be said to Tennant by way of reproach. He then gave another halloo,
and kicked off his shoes among the spectators, many of whom were deeply
affected at the obduracy of his conduct. Soon afterwards the platform
dropped. They suffered on the 30th of April 1805.
HENRY PERFECT.
TRANSPORTED FOR FRAUD.
Henry Perfect was a person who, by means of the most specious pretences
and ingenious frauds, succeeded in levying very large contributions on
the public. Instances of fellows devoid of principle pursuing similar
plans of imposture have been but too frequent of late years, but the
system, which was for a long time so successful, of writing begging
letters, has been now almost entirely put an end to, by the praiseworthy
exertions of the officers of that very respectable institution the
Mendicity Society, the object of which is at once to relieve the
necessitous, and to protect the public from imposition.
The case of this person may be taken as a very fair instance of the
degree of ingenuity exercised by individuals resorting to similar
artifices as the means of gulling the humane.
Perfect was a man of respectable parentage, and of excellent abilities.
His father was a clergyman living in Leicestershire, and our hero, at
the completion of his education, entered the army as a lieutenant in the
69th regiment of foot. He was twice married, and received a handsome
property with each of his wives; but their estates being held during
life only, upon the demise of his second helpmate he was thrown upon his
own resources. His commission had long since been disposed of, and he
determined to endeavour to procure contributions by writing letters to
persons of known charitable dispositions, setting forth fictitious
details of distress. In the course of his numerous impositions, he
assumed the various and imaginary characters of the Rev. Mr. Paul, the
Rev. Daniel Bennett, Mrs. Grant, Mrs. Smith, and others, but at last he
was detected in an attempt to procure money from the Earl of Clarendon,
whom he addressed in a letter signed "H. Grant."
He was indicted at the Middlesex sessions for this offence; and his
trial, which came on at Hicks' Hall, on the 27th of October 1804,
occupied the whole day.
It then appeared that the Earl of Clarendon being at his seat at Wade's
Mill, Hertfordshire, in the previous month of July, he received a
letter, purporting to be from Mrs. Grant, which stated in substance:--
That the writer having heard from a lady, whose name she was not at
liberty to reveal, the most charming character of his lordship for
kindness and benevolence, she was induced to lay before him a statement
of her distressed circumstances. The supposed lady then detailed her
case, which was, that she was a native of Jamaica, of affluent and
respectable family; that a young man, a Scotchman, and surgeon's mate to
a man-of-war, was introduced at her father's house, who so far
ingratiated himself with her father, that he seriously recommended him
to her for her husband. She did not like him, because he was proud, and
for ever vaunting of his high family; but as her father's will had
always been a law, she acquiesced on condition that he would live at
Jamaica. They were accordingly married, and her father gave him one
thousand pounds. He, however, soon became discontented with remaining at
Jamaica, and continually importuned her to go with him to Scotland; and
as her friends joined in the solicitation, she consented. She had now
been six months in England; but her husband had always evaded going to
Scotland, and had left her whenever she spoke upon the subject. In short
he had gamed, drunk, and committed every excess; and within the last six
weeks he had died in a rapid decline, leaving her a widow, with two
children, and hourly expecting to be delivered of a third. She was not
twenty-three years of age, and never knew want till now; but she was
left without a shilling to support herself and miserable children: she
owed for her husband's funeral, and the apothecary's bill, for which she
was afraid of being arrested. To avoid this she was going to seek
shelter with a poor widow in Essex; and if his lordship would write to
her at the post-office at Harlow, she would, if brought to bed in the
meanwhile, get some safe person to go for the letter.
His lordship's answer evinced the benevolence of his heart. He expressed
his readiness to alleviate her distress, but justly observed that her
tale ought to be authenticated by something more than the recital of a
perfect stranger. He desired to know who the lady was who had
recommended the application to him, and assured the writer she need not
conceal her, for that he considered it was doing him a great kindness to
afford him the means of rendering service to the necessitous. On the
14th of July his lordship received a note nearly as follows:--
Mrs. Smith, widow of Captain Smith, begged leave to inform Lord
Clarendon that Mrs. Grant was brought to bed. It was she who recommended
Mrs. Grant to Lord Clarendon: while her husband was living, she had
frequently been with him on the recruiting service in Hertfordshire,
where she had heard of the benevolent character of his lordship. She
added, that Captain Smith, when in Jamaica, had frequently visited Mrs.
Grant's father, who was a person of great wealth; that she had herself
done more than she could afford for an amiable and unfortunate young
woman. She had no doubt but that as soon as her letter should reach
Jamaica, Mrs. Grant's father would send her abundant relief; but till
then she might, without the friendship of some individual, be totally
lost.
In consequence of this last note, his lordship returned an answer, and
enclosed a draft for five guineas, offering at the same time to write to
any person at Harlow who might be of assistance to her, particularly to
any medical person. On July the 23rd the supposed Mrs. Grant wrote again
to his lordship, acknowledging the receipt of the five guineas, and
stating that she had the offer of a passage home: but she said that she
wished to see his lordship, to return her grateful thanks for his
kindness. At the same time she was extremely delicate, lest their
meeting should be misconstrued by a malignant world, and entreated that
it might take place a little distance from town. The answer to this
letter she begged might be addressed to A. B. C. at George's
Coffee-house, to which place she would send for it. His lordship at her
request, wrote an answer, and appointed the Bell Inn, at Kilburn. Before
the arrival of the day of meeting, however, his lordship received
another letter from Mrs. Grant, stating that ever since she came to
town, she had met nothing but trouble. Her last child had died, and she
was seized with a milk-fever; that she had twelve shillings left of his
lordship's, and Mrs. Smith's bounty, when she came to town; that she was
afraid of coming further than Whitechapel, lest her creditors might
arrest her; and she concluded with the request of the loan of five
pounds, to be inclosed in a note addressed to Mr. Paul, to be left at
the Saracen's Head Inn, Aldgate. His lordship, in reply to this note,
sent the money requested, and with great humanity condoled on her
supposed situation. He then proposed to take her into the country, where
she might live quiet, and free of expense, until she heard from her
friends. The next letter introduced another actor on the stage. It came
from the Rev. H. Paul. Mr. Paul, at the desire of Mrs. Grant, (then said
to be delirious,) acknowledged the receipt of the five pounds. He would
write again, and say anything Mrs. Grant might dictate in a lucid
interval. He begged his answer might be left at the Chapter
Coffee-house. His lordship accordingly wrote to the Rev. H. Paul, with
particular inquiries after the state of Mrs. Grant, and proposed to send
the proper medical assistance. The Rev. Mr. Paul replied to this letter,
and stated the description of Mrs. Grant's complaint, which was of a
delicate nature. He then stated the high notions of Mrs. Grant, who
would not condescend to see any person from his lordship in her present
wretched state; and added that she thought her situation such, that it
was not delicate to admit any one to see her but those absolutely
necessary. Mr. Paul therefore had promised, he said, not to divulge her
residence; but declared that in her lucid intervals, Mrs. Grant
expressed the utmost anxiety to be enabled to thank her benefactor.
This correspondence produced a meeting between the supposed Rev. H. Paul
and his lordship, which took place at the Bell Inn, at Kilburn, on the
8th of August. The prisoner then introduced himself to his lordship as
the Rev. Henry Paul. They entered into conversation on the subject of
Mrs. Grant, when his lordship asked every question as to her situation,
with a view to alleviate it. Mr. Paul said he had not seen her
distinctly, for the curtains were closed round her; but the opium had
had an effect which he had known it frequently to produce: it had given
her eyes more than usual brilliancy: with respect to her lodging, it was
a very small room. The woman who attended her seemed a good sort of a
woman enough, and she was also attended by a surgeon or apothecary. As
Mr. Paul seemed to be a man of respectability, his lordship asked him at
what seminary he had been brought up: the prisoner replied he had been
educated at Westminster and Oxford, and had the living of St. Kitt's, in
Jamaica, worth about 700_l._ per annum; that he had property in Ireland,
and was going to America on private business. To his lordship's question
how he was so fortunate as to meet this young woman, he said it was by
an accident, that quite looked like a romance.--He was coming to town in
the Ongar stage, in which were a young woman, two children, and a lady,
all in mourning. He entered into conversation with the lady, and was
surprised to find her the daughter of a person at whose house, in
Jamaica, he had himself been frequently received with kindness. Although
his business pressed, he determined to stay and afford her some
assistance. He then stated that he had that day given her a 2_l._ note,
which his lordship, at this interview, returned (being the note on which
the indictment was founded). He added, that Mrs. Grant's father was
extremely affluent, and he should not wonder if he was to remit 500_l._
at the first intelligence of his daughter's situation. His lordship in
his evidence said, that he seemed to express himself in language of the
purest truth and benevolence; and as he appeared a well-educated
gentleman, who had seen the world, he had no suspicion of any fraud.
After this interview a correspondence took place between the pretended
clergyman and his lordship, in which the former stated the progression
of the patient, Mrs. Grant, towards convalescence, and at her desire
requested that linen, poultry, fruit, and wine, might be forwarded, all
of which were supplied by the bounty of the noble lord.
At length Mrs. Grant was sufficiently recovered to be able to write to
his lordship, and in her letter she expressed her unbounded thanks for
the benevolence which she had experienced at his hands, and remarked
that but for the friendly introduction of the Rev. Mr. Paul, she
believed that she would have been lost. She then went on to say, that
although she had been ordered by her medical attendant to keep herself
perfectly quiet, yet she could not resist the temptation of sitting up
in bed to write to her benefactor, whom she hoped to be able shortly to
thank personally for his numerous kindnesses.
The last letter from Mr. Paul was dated August 23. He acknowledged the
receipt of 6_l._ 2_s._ which had been expended for Mrs. Grant; and
informed his lordship that the sheets which had been last sent, had, by
some accident, been near brimstone, which affected Mrs. Grant very much;
that her situation required fine old linen, if his lordship had any
such. He apologized, if there should be any inaccuracy in his letter,
because he _had a head-ache and some degree of fever_.
The farce now began to draw to its conclusion. His lordship received
another letter from Mrs. Grant, dated Saturday, September 1st, in which
the supposed lady said:--
"Last Saturday, her father's sister came to town, and found her out. She
was a sour old lady, a man-hater, and snarled at the whole sex. She had
taken Mrs. G. into the country with her, although she was removed at the
peril of her life. The lady she was with was nearly as bad as her aunt;
but, as the latter was going out for a few days, her Argus would let her
come to town, which would enable her to meet his lordship. As her
ill-tempered aunt had given her neither money nor clothes, she begged
4_l._ of his lordship. If this opportunity was lost, she should never be
able to see him, as her aunt was a vigilant woman, and hated the men so
much, that at the first entrance into her room, finding the Rev. Mr.
Paul there, she most grossly affronted him. She could not have any
letter addressed in her own name lest it should fall into the hands of
her aunt, and therefore begged his lordship to direct to Mrs. Harriet,
Post-office, Waltham."
His lordship, in his answer to this letter, expressed some suspicions
that he had been duped; in answer to which Mrs. Grant thanked Lord
Clarendon for his favours, and declared that she was sorry to think he
should conceive himself duped, but he would find his mistake when she
got home to the West Indies. In a postscript, she added--"That best of
men, Mr. Paul, died suddenly on Saturday last."
This closed the intercourse between his lordship and his correspondents,
Mrs. Grant and Mr. Paul. Soon afterwards, however, he received another
letter from a Rev. Mr. Bennett, setting forth a deplorable tale of
misery; but his suspicions being awakened, he employed his steward to
trace the supposed Rev. Mr. Bennett, when it turned out to be the
prisoner at the bar, who had imposed himself on his lordship as the Rev.
Mr. Paul, that "best of men," whom Mrs. Grant stated to have "died
suddenly." His lodgings being searched, a book was found in his own
handwriting, giving an account of money received, (by which it appeared
that he had plundered the public to the amount of four hundred and
eighty-eight pounds within two years,) with a list of the donors' names,
among whom were, the Duchess of Beaufort, Lord Willoughby de Broke, Lord
Lyttleton, Lady Howard, Lady Mary Duncan, Bishops of London, Salisbury,
and Durham, Earls of Kingston and Radnor, Lord C. Spencer, Hon. Mrs.
Fox, &c. &c.
Other memoranda were also found, which showed that the prisoner had
reduced his mode of proceeding to a perfect system, notes being taken of
the style of handwriting which he assumed, under his different names,
and of the description of sealing-wax, wafer, and paper, used in his
letters.
The jury found the prisoner guilty, and the Court immediately sentenced
him to seven years' transportation. He was sent to Botany Bay in April
1805.
Frequent convictions of a similar character have taken place, but it is
to be hoped, that if the exertions of the police have not been fully
successful in putting a stop to the system, the public, at least, have
been so far put upon their guard, as that they will not submit to be
duped, but that they will first inquire into and ascertain the real
claims of the applicants before they extend their charity to them.
THOMAS PICTON, ESQ.
INDICTED FOR APPLYING THE TORTURE TO LOUISA CALDERON, TO EXTORT A
CONFESSION.
The cruelty of the application of the torture to extort confession,
cannot but be universally admitted in the present enlightened age. The
following remarks of the French philosopher Voltaire admirably
illustrate this feeling, and serve well to introduce the case of
Governor Picton:--
"All mankind being exposed to the attempts of violence and perfidy,"
says he, "detest the crimes of which they may possibly be the victims;
all desire that the principal offender and his accomplices may be
punished; nevertheless, there is a natural compassion in the human
heart, which makes all men detest the cruelty of torturing the accused
into confession. The law has not condemned them; and yet, though
uncertain of the crime, you inflict a punishment more horrible than that
which they are to suffer when their guilt is confirmed. 'Possibly thou
mayest be innocent; but I will torture thee that I may be satisfied; not
that I intend to make thee any recompense for the thousand deaths which
I have made thee suffer in lieu of that which is preparing for thee.'
Who does not shudder at the idea? St. Augustin opposed such cruelty. The
Romans tortured their slaves only; and Quintilian, recollecting that
they were men, reproved the Romans for such want of humanity."
The defendant, Thomas Picton, Esq. was indicted for putting to the
torture a female, Louisa Calderon, one of his majesty's subjects in the
island of Trinidad in the West Indies, in order to extort confession.
Mr. Garrow stated the case for the prosecution; and, whilst he expressed
the strongest desire to bring to condign punishment the perpetrator of
an offence so flagrant as that charged upon the defendant, yet much more
happy would he be to find that there was no ground upon which the charge
could be supported, and that the British character was not stained by
the adoption of so cruel a measure. The island of Trinidad, he said,
surrendered to Sir Ralph Abercrombie in the year 1797; and he entered
into a stipulation, by which he conceded to the inhabitants the
continuance of their laws, and appointed a new governor, until his
majesty's pleasure should be known, or, in other words, until the king
should extend to this new acquisition to his empire all the sacred
privileges of the laws of England. He had the authority of the defendant
himself for stating, that the system of jurisprudence adopted under the
Spanish monarch, for his colonial establishments, was benignant, and
adapted to the protection of the subject, previous to the surrender of
this island to the British arms.
In December 1801, when this crime was perpetrated, Louisa Calderon was
of the tender age of ten or eleven years. At that early period she had
been induced to live with a person named Pedro Ruiz, as his mistress;
and although it appeared to them very singular that she should sustain
such a situation at that time of life, yet it was a fact, that in that
climate, women often became mothers at twelve years old, and were in a
state of concubinage, if, from their condition, they could not form a
more honourable connexion. While she lived with Ruiz, she was engaged in
an intrigue with Carlos Gonzalez, the pretended friend of the former,
who robbed him of a quantity of dollars. Gonzalez was apprehended, and
she also, as some suspicion fell upon her, in consequence of the affair,
was taken into custody. She was taken before the justice, and, in his
presence, she denied having any concern in the business. The magistrate
felt that his powers were at an end; and whether the object of her
denial were to protect herself, or her friend, was not material. The
extent of his authority being thus limited, the officer of justice
resorted to General Picton; and he had now to produce, in the
handwriting of the defendant, this bloody sentence:--"Inflict the
torture upon Louisa Calderon." There was no delay in proceeding to its
execution. The girl was informed in the jail, that, if she did not
confess, she would be subjected to the torture; that under this process
she might probably lose her limbs or her life; but the calamity would be
on her own head, for, if she would confess, she would not be required to
endure it. While her mind was in the state of agitation this notice
produced, her fears were aggravated by the introduction of two or three
negresses into her prison, who were to suffer under the same experiment
for witchcraft, and as a means of extorting confession. In this
situation of alarm and horror, the young woman persisted in her
innocence: and a punishment was inflicted, improperly called picketing.
That was a military punishment, perfectly distinct in its nature. This
was not picketing, but the torture. It was true, the soldier, exposed to
this, did stand with his foot on a picket, or sharp piece of wood; but,
in mercy to him, a means of reposing was afforded, on the rotundus
major, or interior of the arm. Her position might be easily described.
The great toe was lodged upon a sharp piece of wood, while the opposite
wrist was suspended in a pulley, and the other hand and foot were lashed
together. Another time the horrid ceremony was repeated, with this
difference, that her feet were changed.
[The learned counsel here produced a drawing in water-colours, in which
the situation of the sufferer, and the magistrate, executioner, and
secretary, was described. He then proceeded]:--
"It appeared to him, that the case, on the part of the prosecution,
would be complete when these facts were established in evidence; but he
was to be told, that though the highest authority in this country could
not practise this on the humblest individual, yet that, by the laws of
Spain, it could be perpetrated in the island of Trinidad. He would
venture to assert, that if it were written in characters impossible to
be misunderstood, that if it were the acknowledged law of Trinidad, it
could be no justification of a British governor. Nothing could vindicate
such a person, but the law of imperious necessity, to which all must
submit. It was his duty to impress upon the minds of the people of that
colony, the great advantages they would derive from the benign influence
of British jurisprudence; and that in consequence of being received
within the pale of this government, torture would be for ever banished
from the island. It was not sufficient for him, therefore, to establish
this sort of apology; it was required of him to show, that he complied
with the institutions, under circumstances of irresistible necessity.
This governor ought to have been aware that the torture was not known in
England; and that it never would be, never could be tolerated in this
country.
"The trial by rack was utterly unknown to the law of England, though
once, when the Dukes of Exeter and Suffolk, and other ministers of Henry
VI. had laid a design to introduce the civil law into this kingdom, as
the rule of government, for a beginning thereof they erected a rack for
torture, which was called in derision the Duke of Exeter's daughter, and
still remained in the Tower of London, where it was occasionally used as
an engine of state, not of law, more than once in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth. But when, upon the assassination of Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham, by Felton, it was proposed in the Privy Council to put the
assassin to the rack, in order to discover his accomplices, the judges,
being consulted, declared unanimously, to their own honour, and the
honour of the English law, that no such proceeding was allowable by the
laws of England.
"Such was the effect of the observations of the elegant and learned
author of the Commentaries of the Law of England on this subject; and as
the strongest method of showing the horror of the practice, he gave this
question in the form of an arithmetical problem:--'The strength of the
muscles and the sensibility of the nerves being given, it was required
to know what degree of pain would be necessary to make any particular
individual confess his guilt.'
"But what were they to say to this man, who, so far from having found
torture in practice under the former governors, had attached to himself
all the infamy of having invented this instrument of cruelty? Like the
Duke of Exeter's Daughter, it never had existence until the defendant
cursed the island with its production. He had incontestible evidence to
show this ingenuity of tyranny in a British governor; and the moment he
produced the sanguinary order, the man was left absolutely without
defence. The date of this transaction was removed at some distance. It
was directed that a commission should conduct the affairs of the
government, and among the persons appointed to this important situation
was Colonel Fullarton. In the exercise of his duties in that situation,
he attained the knowledge of these facts; and with this information he
thought it incumbent on him to bring this defendant before the jury; and
with the defendant the victim of this enormity would also be produced."
Louisa Calderon was then called. She appeared about eighteen years of
age, of a very interesting countenance, being a Mulatto or Creole, and
of a very genteel appearance. She was dressed in white, with a turban of
white muslin, tied on in the custom of the country. Her person was
slender and graceful. She spoke English but very indifferently; and was
examined by Mr. Adam, through the medium of a Spanish interpreter.
She deposed that she resided in the island of Trinidad in the year 1798;
and lived in the house of Don Pedro Ruiz, and remembered the robbery.
She and her mother were taken up on suspicion, and brought before
Governor Picton, who committed them to prison, under the escort of three
soldiers. She was put into close confinement; and before she was taken
there the governor said, "If she did not confess who had stolen the
money, the hangman would have to deal with her."
She was afterwards carried to the room where the torture was prepared.
Her left hand was tied up to the ceiling by a rope, with a pulley; her
right hand was tied behind, so that her right foot and hand came in
contact, while the extremity of her left foot rested on the wooden
spike. A drawing representing the exact situation, with the negro
holding the rope by which she was suspended, was then shown to her; when
she gave a shudder, expressive of horror, which nothing but the most
painful recollection of her situation could have excited; on which Mr.
Garrow expressed his concern that his Lordship was not in a position to
witness this accidental, but conclusive, evidence of the fact.
The remainder of the witness's evidence corroborated the statement of
Mr. Garrow. She remained upon the spike three quarters of an hour, and
the next day twenty-two minutes. She swooned away each time before she
was taken down, and was then put into irons, called the "grillos," which
were long pieces of iron, with two rings for the feet, fastened to the
wall, and in this situation she remained during eight months. The effect
produced by the torture was excruciating pain; her wrists and ankles
were much swollen, and the former bore the marks of the barbarity
employed towards her to the present day.
Don Rafael Shandoz, an alguazil in the island, bore testimony to his
having seen the girl immediately after the application of the torture.
The apartment, in which she was afterwards confined, was like a garret,
with sloping sides, and the grillos were so placed that, by the lowness
of the room, she could by no means raise herself up, during the eight
months of her confinement. There was no advocate appointed to attend on
her behalf, and no surgeon to assist her. No one but a negro, belonging
to Ballot, the gaoler, to pull the rope. The witness had been four or
five
[Illustration: _The Torture._
_p. 426_]
years in the post of alguazil. He never knew the torture inflicted in
the island, until the arrival of the defendant. There had been before no
instrument for the purpose. The first he saw was in the barracks among
the soldiers. Before Louisa Calderon, the instrument had been introduced
into the gaol perhaps about six months. The first person he saw tortured
in Trinidad was by direction of the defendant, who said to the gaoler,
"Go and fetch the black man to the picket-guard, and put him to the
torture." After the eight months' confinement, both Carlos and Louisa
were discharged.
The order for the application of the torture, in the following
words--"Applicase la question a Louisa Calderon"--(Apply the torture to
Louisa Calderon)--was then proved to be in the handwriting of the
defendant; and the suggestion of the alcade Beggerat, before whom the
girl had been examined, that slight torture should be applied, was read.
Don Juan Montes then said that he had known the island of Trinidad since
the year 1793. That the torture was never introduced until after the
conquest of the island, and was then practised by order of the
defendant. It was first used with the military in 1799, and two years
afterwards in the gaol.
Mr. Dallas, for the defendant, rested his defence upon the following
statements:--
First,--By the law of Spain, in the present instance, torture was
directed; and, being bound to administer that law, he was vindicated in
its application.
Secondly,--The order for the torture, if not unlawfully, was not
maliciously issued.
Thirdly,--If it were unlawful, yet, if the order were erroneously or
mistakenly issued, it was a complete answer to a criminal charge.
The learned counsel entered at considerable length into these positions,
during which he compared the law of Spain, as it prevailed in Trinidad,
to the law of England, as it subsisted in some of our own islands; and
he contended that the conduct of General Picton was gentleness and
humanity, compared to what might be practised with impunity under the
authority of the British government.
Mr. Gloucester, the Attorney-General of his Majesty in the island, was
then called, and he deposed to the authenticity of several books on the
laws of the island, among which were the Elisondo, the Curia Philippica,
the Bobadilla, the Colom, and the Recopilacion de Leyes.
Various passages in these books were referred to, and translated, for
the purpose of showing that torture was not only permitted in certain
cases, but in the particular instance before the jury.
Mr. Garrow was then allowed to call a witness, to show that, however
such a law might at any time have existed, or might still exist, in
Spain, it did not prevail in the West Indian colonies of that power. To
this end, Don Pedro de Vargass was sworn. He deposed that, during the
early part of his life, he had been regularly initiated and admitted to
the office of an advocate of the Spanish law-courts in the colonies;
that he had practised after his admission, in the regular course, for
two years, and had resided at five or six of the West India islands, in
the pursuit of his profession; and that, according to his knowledge of
the Book of Recapitulation, by which the laws were administered, there
was nothing contained in it to justify the infliction of torture, nor
was torture, to his knowledge, ever resorted to. There was a law of Old
Castile, of the year 1260, which justified the torture in certain cases,
but he never understood that it extended to the West Indies, and it was
so much abhorred in Spain, that it was either repealed, or had fallen
entirely into disuse.
Mr. Dallas and Mr. Garrow then severally addressed the jury; and Lord
Ellenborough in summing up, recommended them to divest their minds of
every feeling which they might have contracted in the course of the
present trial, and to throw every part of the case out of their
consideration, except that which related to this simple point:--What was
the law by which the island of Trinidad was governed at the period of
its capture by the British? It was for the consideration of the jury
whether the law then subsisting authorised personal torture to be
inflicted. By the indulgence of the government of this country, the
subsisting law was to continue; the question was, What was that
subsisting law? The jury would observe, that it did not necessarily
follow, because Trinidad was a colony of Old Spain, that it must
therefore, in every part, have the laws of Old Spain. It did not
originally form any part of that country, but had been annexed to it;
and on what terms there was no positive evidence. It did not appear that
either the schedule peculiar to this island, or the recapitulation,
embraced the criminal law, or made any mention of torture. So, if
torture did subsist in this island, it must be on the authority of law
books read to the jury; and it was ascertained by several persons,
apparently of competent knowledge, that torture had not, within their
recollection, ever been practised in the island. It was, therefore, for
the jury to say, in the absence of all positive proof on the subject,
and in the face of so much negative evidence, whether the law of Spain
was so fully and completely established in Trinidad as to make torture a
part of the law of that island. Without going through the authorities,
he thought the jury might take it to be the existing law of Old Spain,
that torture might be inflicted. It was too much to say, that a
discontinuance of a practice could repeal a law; but they had to
determine whether they were convinced that torture had ever been part of
the law of Trinidad; and also whether they were convinced that it was
part of the law of Trinidad at the time of its capture. If so, they
would enter a special verdict; if otherwise they would find the
defendant guilty.
The jury found--There was no such law existing in the island of
Trinidad, as that of torture, at the time of the surrender of that
island to the British.
Lord Ellenborough--"Then, gentlemen, General Picton cannot derive any
protection from a supposed law, after you have found that no such law
remained in that island at the surrender of it, and when he became its
governor; and therefore your verdict should be, that he is guilty."
By the direction of Lord Ellenborough they therefore found the defendant
"Guilty."
The trial lasted from nine in the morning till seven at night.
Governor Picton walked the hall of the courts during the whole of the
trial. He was a tall man, of a very sallow complexion, apparently about
fifty years of age, and was dressed in black. He was accompanied by
several of the civil officers of the island.
Mr. Dallas moved on the 25th of April for a new trial, upon the
following grounds:--
First,--The infamous character of the girl, who lived in open
prostitution with Pedro Ruiz, and who had been privy to a robbery
committed upon her paramour by Carlos Gonzalez; and that when a
complaint laid against her had been brought before a magistrate, she,
refusing to confess, had been ordered to be tortured.
Secondly,--That Governor Picton, who condemned her to this torture, did
not proceed from any motives of malice, but from a conviction that the
right of torture was sanctioned by the laws of Trinidad; and that he was
rooted in this opinion by a reference to the legal written authorities
in that island.
Thirdly,--That whatever his conduct might be, it was certainly neither
personal malice, nor disposition to tyranny, but resulted, if it should
prove to be wrong, from a misapprehension of the laws of Trinidad.
Fourthly,--That one of the principal witnesses in this trial, M.
Vargass, had brought forward a book, entitled "Recopilacion des Leyes
des Indes," expressly compiled for the Spanish colonies, which did not
authorise torture; and that the defendant had no opportunity of ever
seeing that book; but it had been purchased by the British Institution
at the sale of the Marquis of Lansdowne's library, subsequent to his
indictment, and that having consulted it, it appeared that when that
code was silent upon criminal cases, recourse was always to be had to
the laws of Old Spain, and that those laws sanctioned the torture.
The Court, after some consideration, granted the rule to show cause why
a new trial should not be had, and as the second trial, which was
eventually allowed, was attended with a different result from that of
the first, we think it no more than just to the memory of Governor
Picton to conclude our notice of this affair with the following apology
for his conduct, which is extracted from a respectable monthly
publication:--
"In an evil hour the British Colonel associated with him, in the
government of the island, the British naval commander on the station,
and Colonel Fullarton. This was, as might naturally have been expected,
and as certainly was designed by one of the parties, the origin of
disputes and the source of anarchy. It is well known that Fullarton, on
his return to England, preferred charges against Picton, which were
taken into consideration by the Privy Council, and gave rise to a
prosecution that lasted for several years. No pains were spared to sully
his character, to ruin his fortunes, and to render him an object of
public indignation. A little strumpet, by name Louisa Calderon, who
cohabited with a petty tradesman in the capital of Trinidad, let another
paramour into his house (of which she had the charge) during his
absence, who robbed him, with her knowledge and privity, of all he was
worth in the world. The girl was taken before the regular judges of the
place; who, in the course of their investigation, ascertained the fact
that she was privy to the robbery, and therefore sentenced her, in
conformity with the laws of Spain, then prevalent in the island, to
undergo the punishment of the _picket_ (the same as is adopted in our
own regiments of horse); but, as it was necessary that this sentence
should receive the governor's confirmation before it could be carried
into effect, a paper, stating the necessity of it, was sent to the
government-house, and the governor, by his signature, conveyed his
assent to the judges. The girl was accordingly picketed, when she
acknowledged the facts above stated, and discovered her accomplice. That
the life of this girl was forfeited by the laws of every civilised
country is a fact that will not admit of dispute; yet clemency was here
extended to her, and she was released, having suffered only the
punishment above stated; which was so slight, that she walked a
considerable distance to the prison, without the least appearance of
suffering, immediately after it was inflicted. But what was the return
for the lenity of the governor? He was accused by Colonel Fullarton of
having put this girl (whom he had never even _seen_) to the _torture_,
contrary to law; and the caricaturists of England were enlisted in the
service of persecution. After a trial which seemed to have no end, after
an expense of _seven thousand pounds_, which must have completed his
ruin, had not his venerable uncle, General Picton, defrayed the whole
costs of the suit, while the expenses of his prosecutor were all paid
_by the government_, his honour and justice were established on the
firmest basis, and to the perfect satisfaction of every upright mind."
RICHARD PATCH.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF MR. BLIGHT.
The case of this offender is one of those which fully prove, that the
most wicked caution, the most deliberately planned scheme, or the most
artful preparatory measures to attach suspicion to some other than the
real cause, or to make it fall upon the guiltless, will never conceal
murder.
Richard Patch was born in the year 1770, at the village of Heavytree,
Devonshire, within two miles of Exeter, and his family had a name
somewhat respectable among the yeomen of the county. The grandfather of
Patch had a freehold estate in land, of the value of fifty pounds per
annum, in a neighbouring village. His father, according to the custom of
many of the petty farmers who reside on the sea-coast in the distant
counties, was a smuggler, and he was noted for a fierceness and an
unusual degree of intrepidity; but as the life of a smuggler is variable
in its scenes, so he was doomed to change his bold deeds and his
unlawful proceedings for a quiet sojourn in the New Gaol at Exeter,
where he was sentenced to be imprisoned for twelve months, on a
conviction obtained at the instance of the officers of Excise. At the
termination of the period of his imprisonment, he was engaged by the
keeper of the prison as a gaoler, and he continued to occupy that post
until the period of his death. He left several children, of whom our
hero was the eldest. He had been bound apprentice to a butcher at
Ebmere, a small village, the most notorious in the county for the
immorality of its inhabitants, and it is exceedingly probable that his
mind was early inured to thoughts of evil deeds. Upon his father's
decease, he quitted his service as a butcher, and taking possession of
the property, to which, as the eldest son, he was entitled, he became a
farmer. His efforts, however, in this line were attended with no
success, and he was soon obliged to mortgage the property which he
possessed for more than one-half its value.
Some years were afterwards passed at Ebmere, when an accident drove him
from his home. From motives which it is unnecessary to examine, he had
quarrelled with the rector of his parish, and, in order to be revenged,
he removed the produce of his farm from his land, without setting out
the tenths for the rector; or, in other words, he refused to pay the
tithes. The consequence was a lawsuit, and an immediate action in the
Exchequer. Patch, shuddering at the expense of the litigation, and the
certain result which awaited him, and already somewhat embarrassed in
his circumstances, quitted Devonshire, in the spring of the year 1803.
Upon his coming to London, he immediately presented himself at Mr.
Blight's, with whom his sister, at that time, lived as a menial servant;
together with a brother of his who was brought up a baker, but, for some
reasons which it is unnecessary to enter into, was now in the service of
Mr. Blight, as a kind of overseer or superintendant in the shipping
business.
Mr. Blight, it appears, had formerly been a West India merchant, and had
failed; upon which he engaged in the ship-breaking business, and was at
this time carrying it on with great success.
Patch had not long entered the service of Mr. Blight, when, from
jealousy or some uneasiness, his brother quitted it. He had been
disappointed in endeavouring to set up for himself in the business of a
baker to which he was bred; and this mortification, aggravated by the
conduct of his brother Richard, excited such a disgust in his mind, that
he immediately went to sea, sailed to the West Indies, where he soon
died a victim to the yellow fever.
The thoughts of a partnership with his employer ere long struck our
hero, and he was induced to look upon the scheme with some anticipations
of its realisation, hoping to be able to purchase a share of the
business with the proceeds of his estate in Devonshire. He, in
consequence, proceeded into that county, and having disposed of his
land, he cleared off all its encumbrances, and received a sum of 350_l._
as the surplus, after the payment of all expenses. On his return to
London at the close of the year 1804, he made his desire known to his
employer, and he paid over to him a sum of 250_l._ as a portion of the
purchase-money, and deposited the remainder in the hands of a banker.
The exact nature of the agreement made does not appear, but whatever the
negotiations may have been, they were suddenly stopped by the murder of
Mr. Blight, who was mortally wounded, while sitting in his own house, by
a pistol discharged by an unseen hand, on the 23rd September 1805. The
extraordinary nature of the murder, and the still more singular method
of its perpetration attracted universal attention, and a minute
investigation of all the circumstances having taken place before Mr.
Graham a magistrate, suspicion fell upon Patch, and he was committed to
prison.
His trial came on at the Surrey assizes, continued by adjournment to
Horsemonger-lane, in the Borough, on Saturday, 5th April 1806. In the
mean time the interest produced in reference to the case was of the most
extraordinary nature.
By five o'clock in the morning of the trial, a vast concourse of the
populace had assembled, and on the opening of the Court it was with the
utmost difficulty that the law-officers and others could obtain an
entrance. The Dukes of Sussex, Cumberland, and Orleans; Lords
Portsmouth, Grantley, Cranley, Montford, William Russel, Deerhurst, and
G. Seymour; Sir John Frederick, Sir John Shelley, Sir Thomas Turton, Sir
William Clayton, Sir J. Mawby; Count Woronzow, the Russian ambassador,
and his secretary, were present. The magistrates had made every
accommodation that the Court would admit of: and a box was fitted up for
the royal family.
The prisoner was conducted into court soon after nine o'clock, and took
his station at the bar, attended by two or three friends. He was
genteelly dressed in black, and perfect composure marked his countenance
and manner. Precisely at ten o'clock, the Lord Chief Baron Macdonald
took his seat on the bench; and to the indictment the prisoner pleaded,
in an audible voice, "Not guilty."
He peremptorily challenged three jurors; after which a jury was sworn,
and the indictment read.
The first witness called was Mr. Richard Frost, a publican, who kept the
Dog and Duck. The first part of his testimony related merely to the fact
of the death of Mr. Blight. He stated, that on the morning of the 23rd
of September last, he was sent for by the prisoner, in consequence of
the deceased having been killed by a pistol-shot: he went, and found him
leaning on his hands and wounded.
Mr. Astley Cooper said he was called in to the assistance of Mr. Blight.
Upon examining him he found he had received a wound near the navel, and
another in the groin. He observed that they were gun-shot wounds; and as
the body of the deceased was considerably inflated, he pronounced them
mortal: he observed the bowels coming through the wounds. The next
morning, at seven o'clock, Patch came to him, said the deceased was in
extreme pain, and wished to know whether anything could be done for him.
The witness told him he feared there could not; but he rose and went to
him, and found him in a very swollen state. He promised to return in the
afternoon with a physician. He went to town, and came back with Dr.
Barrington; but Mr. Blight had been dead about three quarters of an
hour. He had not the smallest doubt that the wounds were the occasion of
his death.
Richard Frost was again called up to speak to the firing of the gun. He
stated that on Thursday, the 19th, "there was a report of the firing of
a gun at Mr. Blight's house;" he went out to ascertain the cause, but
did not perceive any person coming from the premises; and he was in a
situation in which, had the person who fired it attempted to make his
escape, he must have observed him; it was about eight o'clock in the
evening, and it was dark; but he was near enough to have seen any one
run away, or climb the wall.
Miss Ann Davis and Miss Martha Davis, sisters, who happened to be
walking by the premises in a different direction from the last witness,
stated, that they also saw the flash, and heard the report of a gun, and
must have seen any person attempting to escape; but all was quiet, and
they concluded that the gun was fired by some one on the premises.
After this head of evidence, to establish that the gun fired on the
Thursday preceding the death of Mr. Blight, was not by any stranger, but
by the prisoner, witnesses were called to relate the circumstances which
occurred on the 23rd.
Mr. Michael Wright stated that he was going past Mr. Blight's house a
little after eight, when he heard the report of a pistol in the house;
and having become acquainted by the rumour of the former attempt, he was
induced to go up to the house with a view to offer his assistance. He
knocked for some time and was not admitted; but insisting on having the
door opened, Patch made his appearance, and began informing him what a
dreadful accident had happened. The witness was impatient at hearing
this story; he thought that some means should be rather adopted to
pursue the murderer, and recommended Patch to commission him to apply
to Bow-street, as an inquiry taking place instantly after the
assassination would most probably be attended with success. Patch seemed
reluctant, and thought that no good effect could result from it. The
witness therefore went away.
Hester Kitchener's evidence applied to the two days. She stated that on
the 19th she had been ordered by the prisoner to shut up the shutters of
the house earlier than usual. Her master and mistress were then at
Margate. At eight o'clock the prisoner sent her out for some oysters;
and as she returned, she heard the report of a gun, but she did not see
any one. When she saw Patch, he cried, "Oh, Hester, I have been shot
at!" She rejoined, "Lord forbid!" They then looked for the ball, which
she found. The witness continued to state that her master returned to
town on the Monday morning; that in the evening he and the prisoner
drank tea together in the back parlour, and afterwards had some grog.
Her master was fatigued, heavy, and sleepy with his journey and the
liquor; and Patch came down in a hurry to her in the kitchen, and
complaining of a pain in his bowels, wanted a light to go into the yard.
She gave it to him, as also a key of the counting-house, through which
it was necessary he should pass. She heard him enter the back place and
slam the door after him, and immediately after, she heard the report of
a pistol. Her master ran down into the kitchen, exclaiming, "Oh, Hester,
I am a dead man!" and supported himself upon the dresser. She ran up to
shut the door; and as she was half-way down the passage, on her return,
she heard Patch knocking violently for admittance. He asked what was the
matter; she told him; on which he went down and offered his assistance.
He asked the deceased if he knew of any one who could owe him a grudge?
Mr. Blight answered, "No, as he was not at enmity with any man in the
world."
Mr. Christopher Morgan said that he was passing by when the fatal shot
was fired; he went to the house, and saw Mr. Blight lying in a wounded
situation, and recommended Mr. Patch, in the first instance, to search
the premises all over. Patch told him to go and search an old ship that
was off the wharf, as he had reason to think that the perpetrator might
have escaped there; for he heard a noise in that direction on the night
when the gun was previously fired; and he went, but found that the ship
was lying at the distance of sixteen feet from the wharf; that it was
low water: that from the top of the wharf to the mud was ten feet; that
the soil was soft mud, and that any one who might attempt to escape that
way must have been up to his middle. Besides, the mud did not bear the
appearance of any one having passed through it; and he was, therefore,
perfectly convinced that no one escaped over the wharf towards the
water.
Six other persons, who happened to be in different directions leading
from Mr. Blight's house to the public roads, most distinctly proved,
that when the shot was fired which killed Mr. Blight, everything was
quiet on the outside of the premises; that there was no appearance of
any person attempting to escape; and if there had been, that there was
no possibility of his eluding observation.
The next series of evidence went to show that the prisoner was carrying
on a system of delusion and fraud against the deceased, in respect to
certain pecuniary transactions between them. It was proved by Mrs.
Blight, the deceased's widow, that her husband, who had fallen into
some embarrassments, had, in order to mask his property, made a nominal
assignment of it to Patch; but the assignment was not to be carried into
effect, unless the trustees of his creditors should, as he apprehended,
become importunate. This confidential assignment Patch wished to convert
into an absolute sale, for consideration given on his part; but Mrs.
Blight declared that he had never paid her husband any money, excepting
two hundred and fifty pounds, part of one thousand two hundred and fifty
pounds, the consideration for a share of his business.
The next branch of evidence referred to the stockings which the prisoner
had on the night that Mr. Blight lost his life. It was proved that he
generally wore boots; but the witnesses' memory enabled them to say that
he had white stockings on during the evening of the 23rd. Mr. Stafford,
of the police-office, stated that, on examining the bed-room of Mr.
Patch, they were folded up like a clean pair, but that, on opening them,
the soles appeared dirty, as if a person had walked in them without
shoes: the inference from this was, that the prisoner had taken off his
shoes in order that he might walk out of the necessary without being
heard by the maid.
The last important fact was the discovery of the ramrod of a pistol in
the privy, and the proof that that place had not recently been visited
by any person suffering under a bowel complaint. This, and a vast
variety of circumstantial evidence, concluded the case on the part of
the crown.
The prisoner being called upon for his defence, delivered in a long and
elaborate address, supposed to have been written by his counsel, which
he requested might be read by the officer of the court: it began by
thanking the learned judge for moving his trial from a place where
prejudice might have operated against him; complained much of that
prejudice having been excited against him by premature reports in the
public journals; and then entered into a general train of argument,
inferring, that in a case of life and death, a jury ought not to convict
upon circumstantial evidence; the more especially where the proof
appeared, as in the present case, so dubious. He stated that whatever
might be the result of their judgment upon the evidence, it was almost a
matter of indifference to him on his own account; for he was borne down
and subdued by the unjust prejudices of the public, by the long
imprisonment he had endured, and by the enormous expenses to which he
had been subjected; but he had those relations who made life dear to
him: he had children who looked to him for support, and who would not
only be dishonoured, but ruined by his death. The only evidence which he
adduced was that of three persons who spoke to his general character.
The Lord Chief Baron summed up the evidence in the most perspicuous
manner, occupying nearly two hours in commenting upon every part of it;
when the jury retired for about a quarter of an hour, and on their
return pronounced a verdict of Guilty.
His lordship then proceeded to pronounce the awful sentence of the law.
He observed, that the prisoner had begun his career of guilt in a system
of fraud towards his friend; he had continued it in ingratitude, and had
terminated it in blood. He then directed that he should be executed on
Monday, and that his body should be delivered for dissection.
Patch, who had the appearance of a decent yeoman, and was about
thirty-eight years of age, during the whole of the trial never betrayed
the slightest symptom of embarrassment: his appearance evinced a
seeming composure, which innocence alone could manifest, or the most
consummate villany could counterfeit. He heard the dreadful sentence
with a degree of apathy, as if he had previously made up his mind to the
event. The execution was eventually deferred till the next Tuesday, it
being deemed advisable that he should suffer with a man and his wife,
Benjamin and Sarah Herring, who had been convicted at Kingston, March
28, of coining, in order to obviate the inconvenience of having two
public executions following each other so closely. It was in consequence
of this suggestion of Mr. Ives, the keeper, to the Chief Baron (who,
with the Dukes of Sussex and Gloucester, retired to his house after the
trial), that his lordship was induced to order the respite, which he
wrote thus on the margin of the first order for execution:--
"Let the execution be respited till Tuesday, the 8th day of April, 1806.
"A. MACDONALD."
It seems that Herring and his wife had carried on the trade of coining
to a great extent, at their own house in St. George's Fields. On
searching their premises, a complete set of coining implements, punches,
aquafortis, &c., were found, besides upwards of seventy shillings, a
quantity of dollars, half-crowns, and sixpences, all ready for
circulation.
But to return to Patch.--This criminal, after condemnation, remained
perfectly calm and unembarrassed. He slept well during the greater part
of the Saturday night, rose at nine o'clock on the next morning, and
attended divine service at half-past ten. About a quarter before eleven,
the Rev. Mr. Mann, the ordinary, preached the condemned sermon, in a
style the most impressive and affecting; to which Mr. Patch paid
becoming attention. On his return, he looked the gaoler steadfastly in
the face for about two minutes, and then ejaculated, "I am innocent;"
but he appeared composed as usual during the remainder of the day. He
continued to preserve a sullen silence until Monday afternoon, when that
composure which had marked his countenance left him. He was informed by
the ordinary of the gaol, that his friends approached to take their last
farewell of him for ever, when he gave up all hope of a reprieve, and
exclaimed, "Is no mercy to be expected?" His relations, viz., his
sister, who had lived with Mr. Blight, a younger brother, who bore a
strong resemblance in person to the unfortunate man, and a
brother-in-law, with his wife, a nephew, and another distant relation,
were admitted to him, and remained with him until three o'clock, when
they took their last farewell. Patch was now most sensibly affected, and
the scene was truly distressing. He embraced each of his relatives, and
wept bitterly, clinging to them until the moment had arrived when their
absence was required. After this affecting scene, Mr. Ives, the governor
of the prison, went to his cell, and Patch here uttered an expression
adequate to a confession of his guilt. He said, "I have confessed my
sins to God; man can give me no relief." He was also visited by the Rev.
Mr. Mann, and three dissenting ministers. In their interviews with him
he evinced the strongest proofs of a penitent sinner; but invariably
declined to give any answer to the urgent entreaties of the clergymen to
acknowledge the crime for which he was to die. Mr Graham, the magistrate
who committed him to prison, was the last person admitted to see him on
this night. Before they parted Mr. Patch took him by the hand, and said,
emphatically, "We shall, I trust, meet in Heaven."
The three dissenting ministers remained with him during the night, and
he appeared extremely penitent and devout.
At about half-past six o'clock on Tuesday morning, the Rev. Mr. Mann,
and the curate of the Rev. Mr. Rowland Hill, came to the prison, and
after a short interview Patch and Herring received the sacrament, Mrs.
Herring, who was a Catholic, being left with a priest, the Rev. Mr.
Griffiths.
About five minutes before nine o'clock the high-sheriff demanded the
bodies of the unfortunate sufferers; and immediately after, they began
to move in the usual order, followed by Mr. Ives, the keeper of the
prison. When they got to the open yard, Herring and his wife were placed
on a sledge, and drawn to the entrance of the stair-case leading to the
apparatus for the execution, from which they ascended the stairs with as
much firmness as could be expected. Patch displayed his usual
intrepidity.
While Jack Ketch was fastening the ropes, the Rev. Mr. Mann attended
Patch, and, for the last time, attempted to draw from him a confession,
but with no better success. The sheriff then went to him, and entreated
him to confess; but he steadfastly refused. At this time the cap was
drawn upon his face, and everything prepared to launch him into
eternity. Apparently displeased at being pressed so much upon the
subject, he now threw himself considerably back with impatience. From
the violent motion of his body, some of the spectators supposed that he
meant to break his neck, as Avershaw did on Kennington-common; Mr. Ives
immediately went to him and said, "My good friend, what are you about?"
and they conversed together for about a minute and a half. The
unfortunate prisoners were then immediately put to death by the falling
of the drop.
The execution took place on the 8th of April, 1806.
The body of Patch, after hanging the usual time, was taken to the
hospital of the prison, in order to be anatomised by the county surgeon.
He was an athletic, broad-shouldered man, about five feet seven inches
high, and to the last maintained his florid looks, which, however, were
constitutional, and not the effect of any extraordinary degree of
determination.
WILLIAM DUNCAN,
CONVICTED OF THE MURDER OF HIS MASTER.
This case is worthy of remark from the singular mode in which the murder
of the unfortunate gentleman, the employer of the prisoner, was
committed. It appears that Duncan was in the service of Mr. Chivers, a
gentleman between seventy and eighty years of age, and much troubled
with the gout, who resided at Clapham-common, as gardener. On the
morning of the 24th of January, 1807, he was at work as usual in the
garden, when his master, according to his custom, went out to him to
superintend his proceedings. At about half-past 11 o'clock, the gardener
suddenly ran in doors, exclaiming, "Lord, what have I done; I have
struck my master, and he has fallen," and immediately left the house.
The footman proceeded into the garden to discover what had happened, and
found his master lying on the ground, with his face most frightfully
cut. He directly procured surgical aid, when it was found that Mr.
Chivers had received a wound with a spade, the end of which had entered
the lower part of his nose, had broken both his jaw-bones, and had
penetrated nearly to a line with his ears, so that his head was almost
divided. The unfortunate gentleman died immediately afterwards, and the
prisoner was subsequently secured, and committed to Horsemonger-lane
gaol.
The prisoner was indicted at the ensuing assizes, when the offence
having been brought home to him by the witnesses for the prosecution, he
was called on for his defence. He then addressed the Court as follows:--
"I beg leave to assure your lordship that I never bore Mr. Chivers any
malice whatever. On Saturday morning I had been employed in digging some
ground, and with my spade in my hand I went to the green-house to give
it some air, and there I left my spade. I then went for some
refreshment, at eleven o'clock in the morning, as was usual, and, on
going into the kitchen, I saw the footman, of whom I asked how long it
was since Mr. Chivers went out. I went into the garden, and to the
green-house, into which I let a little more air, and, with my spade in
my hand, I looked at a vine. I saw Mr. Chivers, told him that I had
finished my digging, and said I was very sorry to have left so good a
place, and now to be turned off. A few words passed between Mr. Chivers
and me; and the last expression he used was, 'You scoundrel, I will
break your skull.' He shook his cane over me; he made an attempt to
strike at me, when I, turning aside, escaped; he again endeavoured to
strike, and I avoided the blow. After this he followed me up with his
cane, and I then had, as I before said, a spade in my hand. I raised the
spade, and to my surprise struck him.
"Immediately afterwards I went into the green-house, with the full
intention of taking away my own life, but I had not sufficient courage
to do it. I then went into the kitchen, and called Henry, who said 'What
is the matter?' and I replied, 'Good Lord, I have struck my master, and
he fell!' I went out towards Clapham, and the first persons I saw were a
butler and a gardener. I went to the garden of Mr. Robert Thornton, and
asked for Mr. Dixon, who is one of the gardeners. They said he was
cutting a vine; but they went to him, and Mr. Dixon sent me word that I
might come to him. I then informed Mr. Dixon of what had happened, and
upon his advice surrendered myself into custody."
Witnesses having been called, who gave the prisoner an excellent
character, the jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to be
executed on the following Monday in the usual form. He was, however,
twice respited, and eventually ordered to be transported for life.
JOHN HOLLOWAY AND OWEN HAGGERTY,
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The fatal accident which happened on the spot and at the moment of the
execution of these men, by which more than forty people lost their
lives, and many more were terribly bruised, will cause their memory, as
well as their crimes, to remain a dreadful warning to many generations.
Their whole case was attended with singular and awful circumstances. Of
their guilt many entertained doubts, which are not yet entirely removed,
although no further discovery has been made respecting the horrid deed;
and as lately as the year 1813, a man named Ward was indicted for the
same murder, but acquitted. Their conviction rested, certainly, upon the
evidence of a wretch as base as themselves, who stated himself to have
been their accomplice; but the public indignation against them was
excited to such a pitch, that it is scarcely to be wondered at that a
jury pronounced them guilty.
On the 6th of November, 1802, Mr. John Cole Steele, who kept the
Lavender Warehouse in Catharine-street, Strand, was murdered, with much
barbarity, on Hounslow Heath, and his pockets rifled of their contents.
The murderers escaped; and, though rewards were offered for their
apprehension, no discovery was made.
Every search had been made by the officers of the police after them;
several loose characters had been apprehended on suspicion, but
discharged on examination; and all hopes had been given up of tracing
the murderers, when a circumstance occurred, about four years
afterwards, which led to the apprehension of John Holloway and Owen
Haggerty.--A man of the name of Benjamin Hanfield, who had been
convicted, at the Old Bailey, of grand larceny, in stealing a pair of
shoes, was sentenced to seven years' transportation, and was conveyed on
board a hulk at Portsmouth, to await his departure for New South Wales;
but having been taken with a severe illness, and being tortured in his
mind by the apparent recollection of a murder, about which he constantly
raved, he said he wished to make a discovery before he died. A messenger
was immediately despatched to the police magistrates at Bow-street, to
communicate the circumstance, and an officer was sent to bring him
before them. When he was brought on shore, they were obliged to wait
several days, during which his illness would not permit his removal. On
his arrival in town, he made a full disclosure of the circumstances
attending the murder of Mr. Steele, and the magistrates having sent him,
in custody of an officer, to Hounslow Heath, he there pointed out the
fatal spot where the murder was perpetrated. As his evidence implicated
Haggerty and Holloway, measures were taken to apprehend them, and, after
a long search, they were taken into custody. Several private
examinations of all the parties took place. Hanfield was admitted king's
evidence, and the public once more cherished a hope that the murderers
would meet the punishment they deserved.
Monday, February 9, 1807, being the day appointed for the final
examination of the prisoners, they were brought before Mr. Moser, at
Worship-street Police-office.
There was a great body of evidence adduced, none of which tended
materially to criminate the prisoners, except that of Hanfield, the
accomplice, who, under the promise of pardon, had turned king's
evidence. The prisoners denied having any knowledge whatever of the
crime laid to their charge, and heartily hoped that punishment would
come to the guilty; but, the magistrates, after maturely considering the
whole of the proofs adduced, thought proper to commit them for trial at
the next sessions at the Old Bailey, and bound over no less than
twenty-four persons to appear and give evidence on the trial.
Such was the eager curiosity of the public to know the issue of this
trial, which came on February 20, before Sir Simon Le Blanc, knight,
that the whole Court and area of the Old Bailey were greatly
crowded.--When put to the bar, Holloway appeared to be about forty years
of age, of great muscular strength, tall, and of savage, brutal, and
ferocious countenance, with large thick lips, depressed nose, and high
cheek bones. Haggerty was a small man, twenty-four years of age.
Evidence was then adduced to show, that Mr. Steele, besides his
residence in Catherine-street, had a house and grounds at Feltham, where
he cultivated lavender and distilled it for sale in London. On the 5th
of November, 1802, he left Catherine-street, giving his family to
understand that he should return on the following evening, and on the
same night he arrived at Feltham. On the next afternoon (Saturday) he
quitted Feltham at about seven o'clock, on his way back to London, but
he was never seen alive by any member of his family afterwards. His
continued absence creating alarm, some persons were employed to search
for him, and at length his body was found lying at the bottom of a
ditch, near a clump of trees, at a short distance from the barracks on
Hounslow Heath. From the wounds which appeared about his person, it was
evident that his death had been caused by violence, and Mr. Frogley, a
surgeon, being called in, it was found that his skull was severely
fractured, and that he was otherwise wounded in a most dreadful manner.
It was found also that he had been robbed of any money which he might
have had about him, as well as of his hat and boots: an old pair of
shoes and a common felt hat being left in their stead, close to the spot
where the body was found. Notwithstanding the most strenuous exertions
were subsequently made by the police to discover the perpetrators of
this most barbarous murder, no trace was found until the confession of
the accomplice Hanfield, when Vickery, the officer, was despatched to
Portsmouth to bring that person to London. On his way over Hounslow
Heath, he pointed out the exact spot where the body was found, as that
at which the murder was perpetrated, and in consequence of his
information Holloway was apprehended at Brentford, during the election,
and Haggerty was taken into custody on board the Shannon frigate, in the
Channel, where he was serving as a marine. They were both taken to the
police-office and confronted, but they denied all knowledge of each
other, and of Hanfield, and they both gave accounts of themselves as to
their condition and situation at the time of the murder, which, however,
turned out to be untrue. While confined in the lock-up, attached to the
office, Bishop, the officer, secreted himself in the privy adjoining,
where he could hear all their conversation, and he heard them make use
of expressions, which left no doubt of their being acquainted, or of
their having been at Hounslow on the night of the murder.
The king's pardon, under the great seal, to Hanfield _alias_ Enfield,
remitting his sentence of transportation for seven years, for a larceny
of which he had been convicted, and restoring him to his competency as a
witness, having then been read, that witness was called, and made the
following statement on oath:--"I have known Haggerty eight or nine
years, and Holloway six or seven. We were accustomed to meet at the
Black Horse, and Turk's Head, public-houses, in Dyot-street. I was in
their company in the month of November 1802. Holloway, just before the
murder, called me out from the Turk's Head, and asked me if I had any
objection to be in a good thing? I replied I had not. He said it was a
'_Low Toby_' meaning it was a footpad robbery. I asked when and where,
and he said he would let me know. We parted, and two days after we met
again, and Saturday, the 6th of November, was appointed. I asked who was
to go with us? He replied that Haggerty had agreed to make one. We all
three met on the Saturday at the Black Horse, when Holloway said, 'Our
business is to _sarve_ a gentleman on Hounslow Heath, who, I understand,
travels that road with property.' We then drank for about three or four
hours, and about the middle of the day we set off for Hounslow. We
stopped at the Bell public-house, and took some porter. We proceeded
from thence upon the road towards Belfont, and expressed our hope that
we should get a good booty. We stopped near the eleventh mile-stone, and
secreted ourselves in a clump of trees. While there, the moon got up,
and Holloway said we had come too soon. After loitering about a
considerable time, Holloway said he heard a footstep, and we proceeded
towards Belfont. We presently saw a man coming towards us, and, on
approaching him, we ordered him to stop, which he immediately did.
Holloway went round him, and told him to deliver. He said we should have
his money, and hoped we would not ill-use him. The deceased put his hand
in his pocket, and gave Haggerty his money. I demanded his pocket-book.
He replied that he had none.--Holloway insisted that he had a book, and
if he did not deliver it he would knock him down. I then laid hold of
his legs. Holloway stood at his head, and said if he cried out he would
knock out his brains. The deceased again said he hoped we would not
ill-use him. Haggerty proceeded to search him, when the deceased made
some resistance, and struggled so much, that we got across the road. He
cried out severely; and, as a carriage was coming up, Holloway said,
with a terrible oath, 'Take care, I will silence him;' and immediately
struck him several violent blows on the head and body. The deceased
heaved a deep groan, and stretched himself out lifeless. I felt alarmed,
and said, 'John, you have killed the man.' Holloway replied that it was
a lie, for he was only stunned. I said I would stay no longer, and
immediately set off towards London, leaving Holloway and Haggerty with
the body. I came to Hounslow, and stopped at the end of the town for
near an hour. Holloway and Haggerty then came up, and said they had done
the trick, and as a token, put the deceased's hat into my hand.--The hat
Holloway went down in was like a soldier's hat. I told Holloway it was a
cruel piece of business, and that I was sorry I had any hand in it. We
all turned down a lane, and returned to London. As we came along I asked
Holloway if he had got the pocket-book. He replied it was no matter,
for, as I had refused to share the danger, I should not share the booty.
We came to the Black Horse in Dyot-street, had half a pint of gin, and
parted. Haggerty went down in shoes, but I don't know if he came back in
them. The next day I observed Holloway had a hat upon his head which was
too small for him. I asked him if it was the same he got the preceding
night. He said it was. We met again on the Monday, when I told Holloway
that he acted imprudently in wearing the hat, as it might lead to a
discovery. He put the hat into my hand, and I observed the name of
Steele in it. I repeated my fears.--At night Holloway brought the hat in
a handkerchief, and we went to Westminster-bridge, filled the hat with
stones, and, having tied the lining over it, threw it into the Thames."
The witness, being cross-examined by the counsel for the prisoners,
said he had made no other minutes of the transactions he had been
detailing than what his conscience took cognisance of. It was accident
that led to this disclosure. He was talking with other prisoners in
Newgate of particular robberies that had taken place; and the Hounslow
robbery and murder being stated amongst others, he inadvertently said,
that there were only three persons who knew of that transaction. The
remark was circulated and observed upon, and a rumour ran through the
prison that he was about to turn "_nose_" and he was obliged to hold his
tongue, lest he should be ill-used.--When at Portsmouth, on board the
hulks, the compunctions of conscience came upon him, and he was obliged
to dissipate his thoughts by drinking, to prevent him from divulging all
he knew. He admitted that he had led a vicious life, that he had been
concerned in several robberies, and had entered and deserted from
several regiments. He had served in the East and West London militias,
had enlisted into the ninth and fourteenth light dragoons, and had been
in the army of reserve. He added that he was ashamed and sorry at what
he had been, and would endeavour to mend his life in future.
Evidence, in corroboration of his statement, with regard to the hat and
boots fitting Holloway, was also given by Mr. Steele's tradespeople, and
the prosecution being closed, the prisoners were called upon to make
their defence.
Haggerty protested that he was completely innocent of the charge, and
was totally unacquainted with the witness, Hanfield. He denied ever
having been at Hounslow, and endeavoured to point out some
inconsistencies in the evidence which had been adduced.
Holloway declared that he was equally innocent; but admitted that he had
been at Hounslow more than once; and that he might have been in the
company of the prisoner Haggerty and Hanfield, although he said that he
was not acquainted with either of them.
Mr. Justice Le Blanc summed up the evidence in a very clear and
perspicuous manner, and the jury having retired for about a quarter of
an hour, returned with a verdict of Guilty against both the prisoners.
The recorder immediately passed sentence in the most solemn and
impressive manner, and the unhappy men were ordered for execution on the
following Monday morning, February the 23rd, 1807.
They went from the bar reiterating protestations of their innocence, and
apparently careless of the miserable and ignominious fate that awaited
them.
After conviction Haggerty and Holloway conducted themselves with the
most decided indifference. On Saturday, February 21, the cell-door, No.
1, in which they were both confined, was opened about half-past two.
They were reading in two prayer-books by candle-light, as the cell was
very dark. On Sunday, neither of them attended the condemned sermon, and
several magistrates interrogated them; but they still persisted in their
innocence.
During the whole of Sunday night the convicts were engaged in prayer.
They never slept, but broke the awful stillness of midnight by frequent
reciprocal protestations of innocence. At five they were called,
dressed, and shaved, and about seven were brought into the press-yard.
There was some difficulty in knocking off the irons of Haggerty, and he
voluntarily assisted, though he seemed much dejected. A message was
then delivered to the sheriffs, that Holloway wanted to speak with them
in private. This excited very sanguine expectations of confession; but
the sheriffs, on their return, intimated to the gentlemen in the
press-yard, that Holloway wanted to address them publicly; and therefore
requested they would form themselves into a circle, from the centre of
which Holloway delivered, in the most solemn manner, the following
energetic address:--"Gentlemen, I am quite innocent of this affair. I
never was with Hanfield, nor do I know the spot. I will kneel and swear
it." He then knelt down and imprecated curses on his head if he were
guilty, and he concluded by saying, "By God, I am innocent."
Owen Haggerty first ascended the scaffold. His arms were pinioned, and
the halter had been already placed round his neck: he wore a white cap,
and a light olive shag great-coat: he looked downwards, and was silent.
He was attended by a Roman Catholic clergyman, who read to him, and to
whom the unfortunate culprit seemed to pay great attention; he made no
public acknowledgment of guilt. After the executioner had tied the fatal
noose, he brought up Holloway, who wore a smock frock and jacket, as it
had been stated by the approver that he did at the time of the murder:
he had also a white cap on, was pinioned, and had a halter round his
neck: he had his hat in his hand; and mounting the scaffold, he jumped
and made an awkward bow, and said, "I am innocent, innocent, by God!" He
then turned round, and, bowing, made use of the same expressions,
"Innocent, innocent, innocent! Gentlemen!--No verdict! No verdict! No
verdict! Gentlemen. Innocent! innocent!" At this moment, and while in
the act of saying something more, the executioner proceeded to do his
office, by placing the cap over his face; to which he, with apparent
reluctance, complied; at the same time uttering some words which were
not heard. As soon as the rope was fixed round his neck, he continued
quiet. He was attended in his devotions by an assistant at Rowland
Hill's Chapel.
The last that mounted the scaffold was Elizabeth Godfrey. She had been a
woman of the town, aged 34, and had been capitally convicted of the
wilful murder of Richard Prince, in Mary-le-bone parish, on the 25th of
December 1806, by giving him a mortal wound with a pocket-knife in the
left eye, of which wound he languished and died. Immediately on
receiving sentence, this woman's firmness and recollection seemed to
fail her, and she appeared bordering upon a state of frenzy. At the
place of execution she was dressed in white, with a close cap, and long
sleeves, and was attended by the Rev. Mr. Ford, the Ordinary of Newgate;
but her feelings appeared to be so much overpowered, that
notwithstanding she bore the appearance of resignation in her
countenance, her whole frame was so shaken by the terror of her
situation, that she was incapable of any actual devotion.
They were all launched off together, at about a quarter after eight. It
was a long time before the body of the poor female seemed to have gone
through its last suffering.
The crowd which assembled to witness this execution was unparalleled,
being, according to the best calculation, near 40,000; and the fatal
catastrophe, which happened in consequence, will cause the day long to
be remembered. By eight o'clock, not an inch of ground was unoccupied in
view of the platform, and the pressure of the crowd was so great, that
before the malefactors appeared, numbers of persons were crying out in
vain to escape from it. The attempt only tended to increase the
confusion, and several females of low stature, who had been so imprudent
as to venture among the mob, were in a dismal situation: their cries
were dreadful. Some, who could be no longer supported by the men, were
suffered to fall, and were trampled to death, and this was also the case
with several boys. In all parts there were continual cries of "Murder!
murder!" particularly from the female part of the spectators and
children, some of whom were seen expiring without the possibility of
obtaining the least assistance, every one being employed in endeavours
to preserve his own life. The most affecting scene of distress was seen
at Green Arbour Lane, nearly opposite the Debtor's-door. The terrible
occurrence which took place near this spot was attributed to the
circumstance of two pie-men attending there to dispose of their pies,
and it appears that one of them having his basket overthrown, which
stood upon a sort of stool upon four legs, some of the mob, not being
aware of what had happened, and at the same time being severely pressed,
fell over the basket and the man, at the moment he was picking it up,
together with its contents. Those who fell were never more suffered to
rise, and were soon numbered with the dead.
At this fatal place a man of the name of Herrington was thrown down, who
had in his hand his youngest son, a fine boy, about twelve years of age.
The youth was soon trampled to death; but the father recovered, though
much bruised, and was amongst the wounded in St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
A woman, who was so imprudent as to bring with her a child at the
breast, was one of the number killed: whilst in the act of falling, she
forced the child into the arms of the man nearest to her, requesting
him, for God's sake, to save its life; but the man, finding it required
all his exertions to preserve himself, threw the infant from him. It was
fortunately caught at a distance by another man, who, finding it
difficult to ensure its safety or his own, got rid of it in a similar
way. The child was then again caught by a person, who contrived to
struggle with it to a cart, under which he deposited it until the danger
was over, and the mob had dispersed.
In other parts, the pressure was so great that a horrible scene of
confusion ensued, and seven persons lost their lives by suffocation
alone. A cart which was overloaded with spectators broke down, and some
of the persons falling from the vehicle, were trampled under foot and
never recovered.
During the hour for which the malefactors hung, little assistance could
be afforded to the unhappy sufferers; but after the bodies were cut
down, and the gallows removed to the Old Bailey yard, the marshals and
constables cleared the street, and then, shocking to relate, there lay
near one hundred persons dead, or in a state of insensibility, strewed
round the street. Twenty-seven dead bodies were taken to St.
Bartholomew's Hospital; four to St. Sepulchre's church; one to the Swan
on Snow-hill, one to a public-house opposite St. Andrew's church,
Holborn; one, an apprentice, to his master's, Mr. Broadwood, pianoforte
maker, Golden-square; a mother was seen carrying away the body of her
dead boy; and the body of Mr. Harrison, a respectable gentleman, was
taken to his house at Holloway. There was a sailor-boy killed opposite
Newgate by suffocation: he carried a small bag, in which he had some
bread and cheese, from which it was concluded that he had come some
distance to witness the execution.
After the dead, dying, and wounded, were carried away, there was a
cart-load of shoes, hats, petticoats, and other articles of wearing
apparel, picked up. Until four o'clock in the afternoon, most of the
surrounding houses contained some persons in a wounded state, who were
afterwards taken away by their friends on shutters, or in
hackney-coaches. The doors of St. Bartholomew's Hospital were closed
against the populace, until after the bodies of the dead were stripped
and washed. They were ranged round a ward on the first floor, on the
women's side, and were placed on the floor with sheets over them, and
their clothes put as pillows under their heads: their faces were
uncovered: and a rail was placed along the centre of the room. The
persons who were admitted to see the shocking spectacle went up on one
side, and returned on the other. Until two o'clock in the morning, the
entrances to the hospital were beset with persons anxiously seeking for
their lost relatives and friends.
Seldom had such a scene of distress and misery presented itself in this
metropolis. When the gates were opened, a great concourse was admitted;
and when the yard was full, the gates were again closed, until the first
visitors returned from the scene of woe: as soon as any of the deceased
were recognised, the body was either put into a shell or the face
covered over, with the name of the party written on a paper, and pinned
over the body.
The next day (Tuesday) a coroner's inquest sat in St. Bartholomew's
Hospital, and other places where the bodies were, on the remains of the
sufferers. Several witnesses were examined with respect to the
circumstances of the accident; and on Friday, when the inquest
terminated, the verdict was, "That the several persons came by their
death from compression and suffocation."
GEORGE ALLEN.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS THREE CHILDREN.
There can be little doubt that the horrid offence committed by this
wretched man was prompted by insanity; and it is surprising that a jury
should have found him guilty of the crime imputed to him, without
declaring this to be their opinion.
It appeared on his trial, which took place at Stafford in the month of
March 1807, that on the evening of the 12th of January, he retired to
rest with his wife, and that in about an hour the latter was awoke by
her finding her husband sitting upright in bed, smoking a pipe. In
another bed in the same room lay three of his infant children asleep,
the eldest boy about ten years old, the second, a girl, about six, and
another boy about three, and Mrs. Allen also had an infant at her
breast. On his perceiving his wife to be awake, the prisoner demanded to
know "what other man she had in the house with her;" to which she
answered "that there was no man there but himself." He, however,
insisted to the contrary, and jumped out of bed, and ran down stairs.
His wife followed him; but he returned, and meeting her on the stairs,
bade her go back. He then went to the bed where his children were, and
turned down the clothes. On her endeavouring to hold him, he told her
"to let him alone, or he would serve her the same sauce," and
immediately attempted to cut her throat, in which he partly succeeded,
and also wounded her right breast; but a handkerchief she wore about her
head and neck prevented the wound from being fatal. She then extricated
herself (having the babe in her arms all the time, which she preserved
unhurt), and jumped, or rather fell, down stairs; but before she could
well rise from the ground, one of the children (the girl) fell at her
feet, with its head nearly cut off, which her wretched husband had
murdered and thrown after her. The woman opened the door, and screamed
out "that her husband was cutting off their children's heads;" and a
neighbour shortly came to her assistance; and a light having been
procured, the monster was found standing in the middle of the
house-place, with a razor in his hand. He was asked what he had been
doing; when he replied coolly, "Nothing yet; I have only killed three of
them." On their going up stairs, a most dreadful spectacle presented
itself: the head of one of the boys was very nearly severed from his
body, and the bellies of both were partly cut and partly ripped open,
and the bowels torn completely out and thrown on the floor. Allen made
no attempt to escape, and was taken without resistance. He said that it
was his intention to murder his wife and all her children, and then to
have put an end to himself. He also declared that he meant to have
murdered an old woman who lay bed-ridden in the same house.
An inquest was subsequently held on the bodies of the three children,
before Mr. Hand, coroner, of Uttoxeter, when the miserable man confessed
his guilt, but without expressing any contrition. He promised also to
confess something that had lain heavily on his mind; and Mr. Hand,
supposing it might relate to a crime he had before committed, caused him
to be examined in the presence of other gentlemen, when he told an
incoherent story of a ghost, in the shape of a horse, having about four
years before enticed him into a stable, where it drew blood from him,
and then flew into the sky. With respect to the murder of his children,
he observed to the coroner, with apparent unconcern, that he supposed
"it was as bad a case as ever he heard of."
The horrid circumstances of these murders having been fully proved, he
was convicted, and suffered the final sentence of the law at Stafford,
March 30th 1807.
MARTHA ALDEN.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HER HUSBAND.
Of the numerous instances which we have already adduced, wherein women
have committed that very worst of all crimes, the murder of their
husbands, perhaps no case has been attended with more malice, art, and
cruelty, than that of Martha Alden.
Her trial for this offence came on at the Summer Assizes for the county
of Norfolk, in the year 1807.
From the evidence adduced, it appeared that the deceased was a labouring
man of rather diminutive stature, and lived with the prisoner in a small
cottage near Attleburgh, in Norfolk. On the night of Saturday the 13th
of July, the deceased and his wife were in company with a man named
Draper at the White Horse public-house, Attleburgh, drinking together,
and about ten o'clock the prisoner went away, saying she should go home.
At twelve o'clock Draper conducted Alden, who was slightly intoxicated,
to his own door, and left him there with the prisoner. In the morning,
at about three o'clock, a man named Hill was passing the prisoner's
house on his way to see a relation at about ten miles off, when the
prisoner accosted him, saying that "She could not think what smart young
man it was going down the common." A short conversation ensued, in which
the prisoner said that "she had not returned long from the town, where
she had been drinking with her husband and Draper, and that her husband
had then gone, she did not know where, but that she thought he had gone
to a brother of his, who lived in Essex." It was remarked by Hill, "that
he knew that Alden had let himself to Mr. Parson for the harvest," to
which the prisoner assented, but said that she knew he would never come
back, and that if he got a job he would never settle to it. Between six
and seven o'clock the prisoner was met in the road by Mr. Parson, a
farmer, accompanied by a young woman named Orrice, when she said that
she had lost her husband, and expressing herself very unhappy about him,
declared her belief that he was either murdered or drowned, and on the
following morning she was again seen by the same person, when she said
that she had walked above thirty miles in search of him, but could not
find him. On the Monday evening the prisoner borrowed a spade from a
neighbour named Leeder, with an alleged intention of mending her hedge,
which had been destroyed by pigs, which had got in and rooted up her
potatoes; and one having been lent to her, she went away, and was
afterwards seen at work in the ditch surrounding her garden. Up to this
time no traces of her husband had been discovered; but on Tuesday night
Mrs. Leeder went to a pond on the common to look for some ducks, which
she had missed, and having found them, she was on her way home, when she
remarked something in a large pit or pond, which lay in her path. She
went to the edge of the pond, and touched the object with a stick, and
it sank and rose again; but although the moon shone, she could not
distinguish what it was, and she went home. Her curiosity, however,
having been raised, she returned to the spot on the following morning,
and then she again touched the substance with a stick, on which it
turned over, and to her terror, she saw two hands appear, the arms being
clothed in a shirt, which was stained with blood. The alarm was
immediately given, and the body being taken out, it proved to be that of
the prisoner's husband. It was covered only with an old coat, with a
slop or shirt over it, and the head appeared to be dreadfully mangled.
The face was much chopped, and the head nearly cut off, and other
injuries were inflicted, which could not have been done by the
unfortunate deceased himself. The body was immediately conveyed in a
cart to the house of the prisoner, who was taken into custody. On her
house being examined, the bedding and bed were found to be smeared with
blood, and the walls of the bed-room bore marks of their having been
spattered with the same fluid, but partly washed. Two sacks, also
bloody, were discovered concealed under a peat-stack, and from a dark
cupboard was produced a bill-hook with which the foul deed was evidently
perpetrated, and from which the blood had been only partially removed.
On the garden being searched, a species of grave was found to have been
dug about forty yards from the house, and at the spot where the prisoner
had been seen at work, sufficiently broad and long to receive the body
of the deceased, but only about eighteen inches deep. In addition,
however, to these facts, the testimony of the girl Orrice, whose name
had been already mentioned, was procured.
She stated that she had been acquainted with the prisoner a good while,
and had frequently been at her house. On Sunday (the 19th) the prisoner
asked her to go with her to her house; and when she got there, the
prisoner said to her, "I have killed my husband;" and, taking her into
the bed-room, showed her the body lying on the bed, quite dead, with the
wounds as before described: her account of the state and appearance of
the room perfectly coincided with the descriptions of the former
witnesses; she also saw a hook lying on the floor all bloody: when the
hook was shown to her in court, she said it was the very same she had
then seen. The prisoner then produced a common corn-sack, and, at her
request, the witness held it whilst the prisoner put the body into it;
the prisoner then carried the body from the bed-room, through the
passage and kitchen, out of the house, across the road to the ditch
surrounding the garden, and left it there, after throwing some mould
over it. The witness then left the prisoner, and went to Larling; and
the prisoner slept that night at the witness's father's house. On the
following night, between nine and ten o'clock, the witness was again in
company with the prisoner, and saw her remove the body of her husband
from the ditch of the garden to the pit on the common, dragging it
herself along the ground in the sack; and, when arrived at the pit, the
prisoner shot the body into it out of the sack, which she afterwards
carried away with her: the deceased had a shirt and slop on. The
prisoner said nothing to her at the time, and she went home. The next
morning (Tuesday) the witness went to the prisoner's house, and assisted
in cleaning it up, taking some warm water, and washing and scraping the
wall next the bed. The prisoner took up some loose straw, and told the
witness she would carry and throw it into Mr. Parson's ditch, because it
was bloody. The prisoner bade the witness to be sure not to say a word
about the matter; for, if she did, she (the witness) would certainly be
hanged. Upon being questioned to that effect by the judge, this witness
further stated that she had told the story to her father on the Tuesday
night, and to nobody else.
On his lordship asking the prisoner what she had to say in her defence,
she told an incoherent story, which, however, as far as it was at all
intelligible, seemed rather to aim at making the testimony of the last
witness appear contradictory and suspicious, and to implicate her in the
guilt of the transaction, than to deny the general charges which had
been adduced against herself.
The learned judge then summed up the evidence in a very full and able
manner, and the jury returned a verdict of Guilty.
The prisoner was immediately sentenced to death. Her behaviour
subsequently was becoming the awful situation in which she was placed.
She confessed the justice of her conviction, and admitted that she had
murdered her husband with the bill-hook. She declared, however, that it
was not the result of premeditated malice, but that her husband having
threatened to beat her, the thought came into her head when he lay down
to go to sleep.
She was drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution on the Castle-hill,
on the 31st of July 1807, and there underwent the punishment of death
pursuant to her sentence.
JOHN PALMER.
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
This prisoner, although at the time of his execution he was only
twenty-three years of age, was, nevertheless, an old offender, and
richly merited the fate which befel him.
He was indicted at the Old Bailey sessions, in September 1808, for
having, on the 8th of the same month, feloniously assaulted William
Waller; and for having with a certain sharp instrument, which he held in
his right hand, stabbed and cut him in and upon his head, with intent in
so doing to kill and murder him. In another indictment he was charged
with burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry
Kimpton, with intent to steal, and stealing therein a pair of snuffers.
The facts which were proved in evidence were, that the house in question
was situated at No. 20, Manchester-square, and that, being furnished and
unoccupied, Waller was placed in it, to take care of it, by Mr. Kimpton,
who was an auctioneer. On the 8th of September, at about four o'clock in
the afternoon, Waller went out, having previously carefully shut up the
doors and windows of the house, and he did not return until near twelve
o'clock at night. He then found the house, to all appearance,
undisturbed; but upon his going up to the room in which he slept, which
was on the garret floor, he perceived that his bed was in disorder. He
was in the act of turning round to ascertain whether any person was in
the adjoining apartment, when he was suddenly seized from behind by a
man, whom he presently saw was the prisoner. He cried, "Lord have mercy
upon me;" but the prisoner said, "Do not speak a word; lie down on the
bed, that is all you have to do;" and then pushing him, threw him on his
face on his bed. At this moment a second man, whom the prisoner called
Joseph, made his appearance, and Waller attempting to offer some
resistance, they threatened him with instant death. He, however,
continued to struggle; and having at length, extricated himself from the
grasp of the prisoner, he was running towards the window to give an
alarm, when he was suddenly felled to the ground by a tremendous blow on
the head from an iron crowbar. He managed to rise and open the window,
and cry "murder," but he was again violently assailed; but then the
people below having called to him to go down and open the door, he
managed to escape, and run down into the passage. He was pursued by the
prisoner, whom however he missed on his reaching the ground floor; and
he was employed in opening the street door, when the people without, who
had been alarmed by his cries, suddenly burst it in upon him, and
knocked him down. At this moment the prisoner was seen to ascend the
area steps, and to jump over the gate into the street, and being seized,
he declared that he belonged to the house, and that they were trying to
murder the man up stairs; but Waller was by this time sufficiently
recovered to recognise him, and having informed the mob, which had by
this time assembled, that he was the person by whom he had been so
violently attacked, he was handed over to the custody of a watchman. All
search after his companion having proved fruitless, the prisoner was
carried to the watch-house, and then on his being searched, a phosphorus
box with matches was found in his possession, and a paper bearing the
following memorandum:--"No 13, Edward-street, and a house in
Harley-street; No. 30, Oxford-street, and No. 20, Manchester-square----
done." A pair of snuffers, which was proved to have been taken from Mr.
Kimpton's house, was also taken from him, besides a large bunch of
picklock and skeleton keys.
The prisoner, when called on for his defence, denied that he was the
person who had escaped from the house, and declared that having come up
with the crowd upon hearing the outcry, he had picked up the snuffers
and keys, which were found upon him. He said that he had served in the
navy, and had only returned seven months from the Mediterranean station,
where he had been a seaman on board the Lion, Captain Rolles.
His protestations of innocence were, however, vain, and the jury
returned a verdict of Guilty on both indictments.
Sentence of death was subsequently passed in the usual form; and of all
those prisoners who by their crimes subjected themselves to condign
punishment, and who were tried at these sessions, Palmer was the only
one who was ordered for execution. In the course of the time which
intervened between his conviction and the termination of his career, he
gave evident proofs of his wicked disposition, and of the justice with
which he was selected as the object upon whom capital punishment should
be inflicted.
A few weeks before his execution he formed a plan of escape, which, had
it been fully carried out, would have involved him in the additional
guilt of murder. Finding it necessary to procure the aid of a
fellow-prisoner, he selected a fellow who was also under sentence of
death, to whom he communicated his project, and he at once consented to
participate in his danger, in the hope of sharing in his success. It was
arranged that the plot should be put into execution on the Sunday
following. Palmer and his associate having then excused themselves from
attending chapel, whither the other prisoners and the principal turnkeys
would have gone, on the score of illness, they were to attack the
gaoler, whose duty it would be to attend upon them, and having deprived
him of life and possessed themselves of his keys, they were to make the
best of their way to the outer gate. Here they were aware that they
should meet with another gaoler; but having overcome him by threats or
by main force, they were to secure their escape to the street, where
their friends would be in attendance to receive them. In order to
further their design, Palmer had already furnished himself with spring
saws, to remove their irons; and rope ladders had also been provided, to
be used in case of any further impediment presenting itself to them, and
by which they would be able to scale the walls.
So far as its arrangement, the plot had gone on with perfect success,
when Palmer's companion, being conscience-stricken at the crime which
was contemplated, communicated all that had been determined on to Mr.
Newman, the keeper of the prison, and proper means were in consequence
taken for the security of the prisoners.
Palmer finding himself thus foiled in his object, which he had
entertained sanguine hopes that he should have been able to accomplish,
now proceeded to apply himself to those duties which he had hitherto
neglected. As the period approached for his execution, he expressed
himself anxious that the time allowed him for preparation should be
prolonged; but his wish being conveyed to the Government by Mr. Sheriff
Hunter, it was determined that it could not be acceded to, and the law
was directed to take its course.
Wednesday, 23rd of November, 1808, having been fixed for the termination
of his life, on that morning his sentence was carried out. On his way to
the scaffold he was attended by Dr. Ford, the ordinary of the jail, to
whom he confessed the justice of his punishment. He appeared to be
perfectly resigned to his fate, and expressed a hope that his death
would be an example to others. In order to atone for his own errors, he
made a full confession of every robbery and burglary in which he had
been concerned, and gave many particulars of the practices and haunts of
thieves, which subsequently proved extremely useful to the police. When
on the scaffold, he attempted to address the mob; but his speech failed
him, and his eyes having been covered with a silk handkerchief at his
own request, the drop fell at the usual signal, and in a few minutes he
ceased to live.
THOMAS SIMMONS.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The offence of this miscreant was of a most horribly atrocious nature.
It appears that he was the son of poor parents, but being thought to be
a likely lad, he was taken into the service of a Mr. Boreham, who lived
at Hoddesden, at an early period of his life. He continued in this
situation for several years; but on his reaching the age of nineteen
years, he was dismissed on account of his brutal ferocity of
disposition, which had displayed itself on various occasions. He had, it
appears, paid his addresses to Elizabeth Harris, the servant in the
house, who was many years older than he; but, by the advice of her
mistress, the woman declined having anything to say to him. In
consequence of this circumstance, the villain vowed vengeance against
the servant and her mistress, and on the afternoon of the 20th of
October, 1807, he proceeded to his late master's to satisfy his revenge
in a manner most horrible and atrocious. There were at the time of his
going to the house, Mr. and Mrs. Boreham and their four daughters in the
building, besides a Mrs. Hummerstone and the servant, Elizabeth Harris.
About a quarter past nine at night, the party sitting in the parlour was
alarmed by hearing a loud noise of voices at the back part of the house,
and upon listening they heard Simmons disputing with the servant, and
demanding admittance. This was, however, refused, and presently
afterwards the former plunged his hand, armed with a knife, through the
lattice-window, and attempted to stab the girl, but without success.
Mrs. Hummerstone on this went to the scullery, from which the noise
proceeded, and opening the door, found that Simmons had penetrated
through the farm-yard, and was within the stone-yard. On her opening the
door, he suddenly rushed at her, and with his knife stabbed her in the
jugular artery, and, pulling the knife forward, laid open her throat on
the left side. She ran forward, as is supposed for the purpose of
alarming the neighbourhood, but fell, and rose no more.
The murderer then pursued his sanguinary purpose, and rushing into the
parlour, raised and brandished his bloody knife, swearing a dreadful
oath, that "he would give it them all." Mrs. Warner, Mr. Boreham's
eldest daughter, was the person next him; and, without allowing her
time to rise from her chair, he gave her so many stabs in the jugular
vein, and about her neck and breast, that she fell from her chair,
covered with streams of blood, and expired. Fortunately Miss Anne
Boreham had gone up stairs, directly before the commencement of this
horrid business; and her sisters, Elizabeth and Sarah, terrified at the
horrors they saw, ran up stairs too, for safety.
The villain immediately afterwards attacked the aged Mrs. Boreham, by a
similar aim at her jugular artery, but missed the point, and wounded her
deep in the neck, though not mortally. The poor old gentleman was now
making his way towards the kitchen, where the servant-maid was; but the
miscreant pursued him, and in endeavouring to reach the same place,
overset him, and then endeavoured to stab the servant in the throat: she
struggled with him, caught at the knife, and was wounded severely in the
hand and arm, and the knife fell in the struggle. The girl, however,
escaped from his grasp, and running into the street, by her screams and
cries of "murder," she alarmed the whole neighbourhood. Several persons
instantly came to her assistance, and whilst some offered their aid to
the unhappy beings who had been wounded, others sought for the murderer.
Their search was for some time in vain, but they at length succeeded in
discovering him concealed in a cow-crib in the farm-yard. He was
immediately secured, and so tightly bound to prevent his escape, that
the circulation was almost stopped, and in the night death was near
cheating Justice of her victim. The ligatures were, however, loosed in
the morning, in ample time to preserve him to undergo the punishment to
which his crimes had subjected him.
Upon the attendance of two professional men, they found that all
attempts to assist Mrs. Warner and Mrs. Hummerstone would be useless, as
they were already dead; and they directly turned their attention to Mrs.
Boreham and the servant. Mr. Boreham was found lying on the ground with
a poker by his side; but being afflicted with the palsy, and being
besides very aged, he had been unable to use it in opposition to his
assailant.
A coroner's inquest was subsequently held upon the bodies of the
deceased persons, and a verdict of "Wilful Murder" was returned against
the prisoner, upon which he was committed to Hertford Jail to await his
trial. Mr. Boreham being a Quaker, he refused to prosecute in the case
of Mrs. Warner; but an indictment was preferred in the case of Mrs.
Hummerstone, upon which the prisoner was arraigned at the Hertford
Assizes on the 4th of March, 1808. The above facts having been proved in
evidence, as well as the additional circumstance of the prisoner having
confessed his guilt when before the coroner, and of his having declared
that his intention was to murder Mrs. Boreham, Mrs. Warner, and
Elizabeth Harris the servant, a verdict of Guilty was returned.
The awful sentence of death was then pronounced upon him, and he was
hanged on the 7th of March, 1808, having exhibited throughout the whole
transaction the utmost coolness and indifference.
ALEXANDER CAMPBELL, ESQ.
EXECUTED FOR A MURDER COMMITTED IN A DUEL.
This is a case arising out of an absurd deference being paid to the laws
of honour.
Alexander Campbell was tried at the Armagh Assizes, in Ireland, August
13, 1808, for the wilful murder of Alexander Boyd, captain in the 21st
regiment, by shooting him with a pistol-bullet, on the 23rd day of June,
1807. The evidence was, that the prisoner was major, and the deceased
captain of the 21st regiment of Foot; and that on the 22nd of June,
after the mess-dinner, a dispute arose between them, which was
terminated by the prisoner inquiring, "Do you say I am wrong?" and the
deceased answering, "Yes, I do." Major Campbell then retired, and went
and took tea with his family; and he afterwards sent a message to
Captain Boyd upon the provocation given, in consequence of which they
met. Being unattended by friends, the immediate circumstances which
attended the duel were not proved in evidence; but it appears that
Captain Boyd being wounded, Lieutenant Macpherson, Surgeon Price, and
others were called to his assistance, in whose presence he said to the
prisoner, "You have hurried me----I wanted you to wait and have
friends----Campbell, you are a bad man!" He afterwards died, and upon
his body being examined, it was found that he had received a
pistol-shot, and that the bullet had penetrated the extremity of the
four false ribs, and lodged in the cavity of the belly, which was the
cause of his death. These facts having been proved, the learned judge
summed up, and the prisoner was found guilty of the capital offence, but
recommended to mercy by the jury, on the score of good character alone;
several persons of distinction in the army having attended, and declared
that he was generally of a humane, peaceable disposition.
Sentence of death was, however, immediately passed on the unfortunate
gentleman, and he was ordered for execution on the Monday; but, in
consequence of the recommendation of the jury, was respited till the
Wednesday se'nnight.
In the mean time, every effort was made by the friends of the
unfortunate man to procure the royal mercy. Mrs. Campbell, his lady,
departed immediately for England to solicit in person the royal
clemency; and the grand jury of the county, and the jury who had found
him guilty, presented petitions to the lord-lieutenant of Dublin. Mrs.
Campbell, after the most incredible fatigue and exertion, reached
England, and procured her petition to be delivered into the hands of his
majesty. The respite, however, expired on the 23rd of August, and an
order was sent from Dublin Castle to Armagh, for the execution to take
place on the 24th. The prisoner's deportment during the whole of the
melancholy interval between his condemnation and the day of his
execution, was manly, but penitent--such as became a Christian towards
his approaching dissolution. When he was informed that all efforts to
procure a pardon had failed, he was only anxious for the immediate
execution of the sentence. He had repeatedly implored that he might be
shot; but as this was not suitable to the forms of the common law his
entreaties were of course without success.
[Illustration]
He was led out for execution on Wednesday, the 24th of August, 1808,
just as the clock struck twelve. He was attended by Dr. Bowie, and in
the whole of his deportment was manifest a pious resignation and a
penitent mind. A vast crowd had collected around the scene of the
catastrophe: he surveyed them a moment, then turned his head towards
Heaven with a look of prayer. As soon as he appeared, the whole of the
attending guards, and such of the soldiery as were spectators, took off
their caps; upon which the major saluted them in turn. The spectacle was
truly distressing, and tears and shrieks burst from several parts of the
crowd. When the executioner approached to fix the cord, Major Campbell
again looked up to Heaven. There was now the most profound silence. The
executioner seemed paralysed whilst performing this last act of his
duty, and there was scarcely a dry eye out of so many thousands
assembled: every aspect wore the trace of grief.
After hanging the usual time, the body was put into a hearse in waiting,
which left the town immediately, to convey the last remains of the
unfortunate gentleman to the family depository at Ayr, in Scotland. The
catastrophe is rendered still more melancholy by the unhappy
circumstance that Mrs. Campbell had indulged her hopes to the last, and
left London exactly at such a period of time as to arrive at Ayr on the
day on which her husband's corpse would necessarily have reached that
place.
JOHN RYAN AND MATTHEW KEARINGE.
EXECUTED FOR ARSON AND MURDER.
The scene described by the witnesses in this case well depicts some of
the horrors to which the inhabitants of the Sister Kingdom are
occasionally subject.
At the Lent Clonmel Assizes for the year 1808, John Ryan and Matthew
Kearinge were indicted for the murder of David Bourke; in a second
count, with the murder of John Dougherty; in a third, with setting fire
to the house of Laurence Bourke; and in a fourth, with maliciously
firing at Laurence Bourke, with intent to kill him.
After the solicitor-general had opened the case, he called Laurence
Bourke, the prosecutor, who stated that on the night of the 11th of
October, between the hours of ten and eleven o'clock, he was informed by
his servant that there were a number of men in arms advancing towards
his house. In consequence of this information he went to the window, and
saw the prisoners, with several others, all armed, surrounding his
house: they desired him to open the door, but he refused; and they then
fired several shots in through the different windows. There were in the
house, Dougherty, the deceased, a man who was servant to the witness,
and witness's wife and child; they were armed, but had no ammunition but
what the guns were loaded with. The prisoners and the party finding they
could not get into the house, set it on fire; and the witness heard the
prisoner Ryan say, "Take it easy, boys; you will see what botlings we
shall have by-and-by."--The witness's wife and child then went to the
window, and called out to Ryan (who was her relation) not to burn the
house; but he replied, with an oath, that he would; and a shot was
fired at her, which though it did not take effect, frightened her so
much, that she and her child fell out of the window. They were seized by
the prisoner Kearinge; but they afterwards fortunately made their
escape. The house was now falling in flames about the witness's head,
and he therefore opened the door and ran out: several shots were fired
at him, but he escaped them, and made his way to David Bourke's, his
father's house. In his flight he fired his piece, and killed one of
Ryan's party. When witness arrived at his father's house, he found that
he had gone to the assistance of the witness; and on returning to the
place where his house stood, in search of his father, he found that Ryan
and his party were gone, and his father's corpse was lying about twelve
yards from the smoking ruins of his dwelling.
Winnifred Kennedy and other witnesses were examined, who corroborated
the testimony of Bourke, and proved that the deceased, John Dougherty,
was burned in Bourke's house. It was also proved that the whole of
Ryan's party were entertained by him at dinner that day, and they all
left his house armed, for the purpose of attacking Bourke.
On the part of the prisoner Ryan, an _alibi_ was attempted to be proved
by a woman who lived with him, which entirely failed; and, after a very
minute charge from the learned judge, the jury brought in a verdict of
Guilty against both the prisoners. They were executed accordingly.
JAMES COOPER.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
At the Summer Assizes at Croydon, in the year 1809, James Cooper and
Mary Cooper, his mother, aged seventy-one years, were indicted for the
wilful murder of Joseph Hollis, at Compton, in the county of Surrey, on
the 4th May preceding. The first count in the indictment alleged the
murder to have been committed by fracturing the skull of the deceased,
and the second count stated the cause of death to have been a wound in
the throat.
This case was of a rather singular nature, and depended on
circumstances, which were proved by a number of different witnesses; and
the investigation lasted nearly the whole day. The deceased was a man
possessing more property than is usual with persons in his class of
life. He lived in a small cottage adjoining that occupied by the
prisoners, and which, with the prisoners', had been formerly but one
house. It had lately been divided into two tenements, the one being
occupied by the deceased, and the other by the two prisoners. There was
no door of communication between the two tenements; but it was proved,
that whatever passed in one could be distinctly heard in the other; and,
as one of the witnesses stated, the clock could be heard to _tick_.
The deceased, Hollis, was an old man of near seventy, but was hale and
hearty; he was of very penurious habits, and had saved money, which he
was fond of displaying. One of the witnesses described him as always
carrying three canvas bags, in one of which he kept notes, in another
gold and silver, and in a third copper money; and if he wanted to pay
only a sixpence, he would _tip_ all the gold and silver into his hand;
and the witness added, that he had seen him with 100_l._ in his
possession. The whole cottage in which he lived was his property, and
the prisoner, Cooper, was his tenant for the part which he occupied.
Nobody lived in Cooper's part but himself and his mother: and Hollis,
the deceased, lived alone; a woman of the name of Wisdom going to him
daily to complete his little household arrangements.
On Wednesday, the 3rd of May, the day preceding Guildford fair, he had
desired a person of the name of Goddard to go with him to the fair, as
he wanted to buy some sheep; Goddard told him he could not go with him,
but advised him to be early. On this he declared his intention of
breakfasting and setting off the next morning by four o'clock; and
having stated this to Mary Wisdom, he told her that she need not come to
him on the next day. She, therefore, did not on the Thursday make her
daily visit; but on the Friday, about ten, she sent her daughter, a girl
about thirteen years of age. The child found the door unfastened; and,
on opening it, she saw Hollis lying dead on the floor, with a great deal
of blood about him. She ran out, and saw Moor, the constable, crossing
the common, and he immediately returned with her. A surgeon was sent
for, and several people soon came. The body was lying on the floor with
the legs crossed, and the head lying on the arm, evidently composed to
that attitude by the murderer after the deed. A cup of coffee, half
drunk, was on the table, a piece of toast before the fire, another
piece, partly eaten, lay on the hearth, the butter bason was broken, and
the pat of butter was on the floor near the feet of the deceased. The
chair in which he had been sitting was overturned, and his hat was lying
near, so that it appeared that he had been attacked while he was sitting
at his breakfast. The body was most shockingly mangled, the skull was
fractured in two places, the jaw broken, a finger broken, the arms
bruised, and the throat cut so as almost to sever the head from the
body. Under, the body was found a clasp-knife, almost covered with
blood, and a poker in a similar condition. From these circumstances it
appeared that some struggle must have taken place, which the prisoners
must have heard in their cottage, if the murder had been committed by
any stranger.
The prisoners were, therefore, apprehended on the Friday evening, and
their part of the cottage searched; but no evidence of their guilt was
found. The trunk of the deceased had been rummaged; and, as only two
shillings were found on his person, it was presumed that the murderer
had carried off his money.
The magistrates, on examination, finding nothing but suspicion against
the prisoners, discharged them; but on subsequent inquiries, they were
again apprehended, and the following circumstances were given in
evidence. The night before the murder the deceased and the prisoner,
James Cooper, had been quarrelling; upon which the deceased declared, as
Cooper had not paid his rent, he would have him out of the cottage; and
he actually applied to a person to distrain upon him. In this quarrel,
Cooper was heard to vow vengeance against the old man, swearing that he
would be "up side" with him before a fortnight was over. Mrs. Cooper
exclaimed "God forbid!" but presently she said, that it would not much
matter, for that nobody liked the old man. Since the former examination
of the prisoners, a more minute survey of their cottage had been taken,
and concealed in the roof were found various articles of apparel,
belonging to the male prisoner, which were smeared with blood. Upon
subsequent inquiry, the knife and poker found in old Hollis' house were
also discovered to have belonged to the Coopers, and little doubt
remained therefore of their being parties to the murder.
The prisoners were eventually committed to take their trials, and while
in custody Mrs. Cooper confessed that she knew of the murder, after its
commission by her son, but she denied that she was in any way a party to
the foul deed. She stated that her son had gone out in the evening in
question, carrying the knife and poker with him, and that soon
afterwards she heard a noise in old Hollis' house, followed by cries for
help, and presently a heavy fall against the wainscot, but beyond this
she knew nothing.
Upon this evidence the male prisoner was found guilty, but his mother
was acquitted.
The unhappy young man immediately received sentence of death, and was
executed on the following Monday, confessing the justice of his sentence
and punishment.
JOSEPH BROWN.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
This case affords a striking instance of the wonderful effect of the
workings of the conscience of a guilty man.
Joseph Brown was indicted at the York Assizes in the month of March
1809, for the wilful murder of Elizabeth Fletcher at Hensal, near Ferry
bridge, in the month of October, in the year 1804.
The offence was alleged to have been committed by the administration of
poison to the deceased woman by the prisoner, and a companion named
Hazlegrove, both of whom, at the time of the occurrence, lodged in her
house. The evidence with regard to the transaction was, that on the
Sunday, the 21st October 1804, the prisoner, Hazlegrove, Elizabeth
Fletcher, the deceased, and her sister Sarah, were all sitting together
at supper, between eight and nine o'clock at night, and that Hazlegrove
went to fetch some ale. On his return Brown put some sugar into it, and
gave it to the deceased, and she and her sister drank the whole of it,
while Brown and Hazlegrove refused to partake of it, but drank some out
of another mug. In the course of the night the prisoner and his
companion absconded, and nothing more was heard of them until the
apprehension of the prisoner in the Isle of Wight, on the 3rd of August
1808; and in the morning Mrs. Fletcher was found to be dead, and her
sister suffering severely from the effects of laudanum. It was proved
that Mrs. Fletcher was known to be in the possession of a considerable
sum of money, and that the prisoner had expressed a wish that he had it;
and that on the Saturday the 20th of October, he had purchased
six-pennyworth of laudanum of Mr. Perkins, a surgeon at Snaith, to whom
he represented, that it was for the use of his father, who was unable to
get any sleep. The death of the deceased it could not be doubted had
been produced by laudanum.
The additional evidence, by which it was proposed to bring home the
offence to the prisoner, was a confession, which he had made at the Isle
of Wight, in the month of August preceding his trial, when he
surrendered himself into custody, as he said at the time, on account of
the anguish produced in his mind, on his reflecting upon the dreadful
crime of which he had been guilty. In his confession, he stated that he
had been acquainted with Joseph Hazlegrove upwards of six years; that in
the month of October 1804, he and Joseph Hazlegrove lodged with Mrs.
Fletcher of Hensal, near Ferrybridge, and there formed the design of
poisoning her, in order to possess themselves of some property they
supposed her to possess; that for this purpose, he procured
six-pennyworth of laudanum of a Mr. Perkins, of Snaith, which he gave to
Hazlegrove, who mixed it with some beer, along with some sugar, and gave
it to Elizabeth Fletcher and her sister; the former died in consequence
of it, and early the following morning they broke open her box, and took
out one guinea and a half, with which they absconded. The prisoner, it
appeared, had been since subjected to prosecution, on account of some
offence of which he had been guilty, but had been permitted to enter a
foot regiment, in which he was still a soldier at the time of his trial.
On his being called on for his defence, he declared, with the most
consummate impudence, that his confession was untrue; and that his only
object in making that statement was, by putting himself upon his trial,
to clear up the suspicions which were entertained against him. He then
went on to say, that his acquaintance with Hazlegrove had subsisted from
an earlier period than he had represented, down to the time of his
trial; and that they had always lived upon terms of the closest
intimacy. That in the early part of their friendship, a lady of high
rank and fortune had become enamoured of his friend, and that many
interesting meetings had taken place between them. He was generally
employed as the go-between; and the secrecy which they were compelled to
observe upon this subject gave an air of mystery to their conduct, which
caused them to be spoken of with suspicion; and at length so far had the
malignity of their enemies been excited against them, that they were
accused of every offence which happened to be committed within a circuit
of several miles. He concluded by repeating his declaration as to the
object which he had in view, in surrendering himself into custody,
suggesting that the death of Mrs. Fletcher might have been occasioned by
a fit, and protesting his entire innocence of the crime imputed to him.
He declined calling any witnesses to substantiate the allegations which
he made, however, and a verdict of guilty was returned.
The learned Judge then proceeded to pass sentence of death upon the
prisoner, whom he addressed in the following terms:--
"Joseph Brown, I am called upon, in the painful exercise of my duty, to
pass sentence upon a person found guilty of one of the greatest offences
against society--the crime of deliberate murder. You stand an awful and
striking example of the justice of Providence--of that punishment,
which, sooner or later, never fails to overtake the guilty. You have
been compelled by the agonies of remorse, and the upbraidings and
tortures of a guilty mind, to furnish that evidence against yourself,
which was wanting to establish the proof of your guilt, and to supply
that link in the chain of evidence which appeared to be imperfect. I
trust, that every one who hears of your fate will bear in mind, that a
time will arrive, probably in this world, most certainly in another,
when guilt will meet with its due punishment. In your unhappy case, that
period is already come, when you must receive the reward of your
crimes. Impelled by the hope of possessing the treasure which you
supposed your unfortunate victim had saved from her hard earnings, you
deliberately formed the design of destroying her; for this purpose you
purchased a deadly drug, which you procured to be mingled in the cup
which you offered to her under the guise of friendship. When the potion
had taken effect, you plundered her of her property, though it was much
less than your guilty cupidity had suggested. Your crime appeared likely
to be perpetrated, as to this world, with impunity; more than four years
had elapsed since its perpetration, and the remembrance of it began to
fade from the recollection of every one but the guilty author of the
deed, and it seemed probable, that nothing more would have been heard of
it, if the consciousness of your crime, more poignant and destructive
than the poisoned bowl, had not compelled you to disclose the horrid
secret.--Chequered as your life has been with crimes, I cannot indulge
the hope, that anything that I can say will have any lasting effect upon
you; but I conjure you to spend the few remaining hours you have to
live, in earnest prayer and supplication to Heaven for mercy; and may
your unhappy fate convince others, that though their crimes may be
committed in the darkness of the night, they will hereafter be
proclaimed at noon-day."
Sentence was then passed in the usual terms, and the prisoner was
executed on the 20th of March 1809.
We have no record of the manner in which he met his death.
MARY BATEMAN,
_Commonly called the Yorkshire Witch._
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The insidious arts practised by this woman rendered her a pest to the
neighbourhood in which she resided, and she richly deserved that fate
which eventually befel her.
She was indicted at York on the 18th of March 1809, for the wilful
murder of Rebecca Perigo, of Bramley, in the same county, in the month
of May in the previous year.
The examination of the witnesses, who were called to support the case
for the prosecution, showed, that Mrs. Bateman resided at Leeds, and was
well known at that place, as well as in the surrounding districts, as a
"witch," in which capacity she had been frequently employed to work
cures of "evil wishes," and all the other customary imaginary illnesses,
to which the credulous lower orders at that time supposed themselves
liable. Her name had become much celebrated in the neighbourhood for her
successes in the arts of divining and witchcraft, and it may be readily
concluded that her efforts in her own behalf were no less profitable. In
the spring of 1806 Mrs. Perigo, who lived with her husband, at Bramley,
a village at a short distance from Leeds, was seized with a "flacking,"
or fluttering in her breast, whenever she lay down, and applying to a
quack doctor of the place, he assured her that it was beyond his cure,
for that an "evil wish" had been laid upon her, and that the arts of
sorcery must be resorted to in order to effect her relief. While in this
dilemma, she was visited by her niece, a girl named Stead, who at that
time filled a situation as a household servant at Leeds, and who had
taken advantage of the Whitsuntide holidays to go round to see her
friends. Stead expressed her sorrow to find her aunt in so terrible a
situation, and recommended an immediate appeal to the prisoner, whose
powers she described as fully equal to get rid of any affection of the
kind, whether produced by mortal or diabolical charms. An application
was at once determined on to her, and Stead was employed to broach the
subject to the diviner. She, in consequence, paid the prisoner a visit
at her house in Black Dog Yard, near the bank, at Leeds, and having
acquainted her with the nature of the malady by which her aunt was
affected, was informed by her, that she knew a lady, who lived at
Scarborough, and that if a flannel petticoat or some article of dress,
which was worn next the skin of the patient, was sent to her, she would
at once communicate with her upon the subject. On the following Tuesday
William Perigo, the husband of the deceased, proceeded to her house, and
having handed over his wife's flannel petticoat, the prisoner said that
she would write to Miss Blythe, who was the lady to whom she had
alluded, at Scarborough, by the same night's post, and that an answer
would doubtless be returned by that day week, when he was to call again.
On the day mentioned, Perigo was true to his appointment, and the
prisoner produced to him a letter, saying that it had arrived from Miss
Blythe, and that it contained directions as to what was to be done.
After a great deal of circumlocution and mystery the letter was opened,
and was read by the prisoner, and it was found that it contained an
order "that Mary Bateman should go to Perigo's house, at Bramley, and
should take with her four guinea notes, which were enclosed, and that
she should sew them into the four corners of the bed, in which the
diseased woman slept, where they were to remain for eighteen months;
that Perigo was to give her four other notes of like value, to be
returned to Scarborough; and that unless all these directions were
strictly attended to, the charm would be useless and would not work." On
the fourth of August the prisoner went over to Bramley, and having shown
the four notes, proceeded apparently to sew them up in silken bags,
which she delivered over to Mrs. Perigo to be placed in the bed. The
four notes desired to be returned were then handed to her by Perigo, and
she retired, directing her dupes frequently to send to her house, as
letters might be expected from Miss Blythe. In about a fortnight,
another letter was produced; and it contained directions, that two
pieces of iron in the form of horse-shoes should be nailed up at
Perigo's door, by the prisoner, but that the nails should not be driven
in with a hammer, but with the back of a pair of pincers, and that the
pincers were to be sent to Scarborough, to remain in the custody of Miss
Blythe for the eighteen months already mentioned in the charm. The
prisoner accordingly again visited Bramley, and having nailed up the
horse-shoes received and carried off the pincers. In October the
following letter was received by Perigo, bearing the signature of the
supposed Miss Blythe.
"My dear Friend.--You must go down to Mary Bateman's, at Leeds, on
Tuesday next, and carry two guinea notes with you and give her them, and
she will give you other two that I have sent to her from Scarborough;
and you must buy me a small cheese about six or eight pound weight, and
it must be of your buying, for it is for a particular use, and it is to
be carried down to Mary Bateman's, and she will send it to me by the
coach.--This letter is to be burned when you have done reading it."
From this time to the month of March 1807, a great number of letters
were received, demanding the transmission of various articles, to Miss
Blythe, through the medium of the prisoner, the whole of which were to
be preserved by her until the expiration of the eighteen months; and in
the course of the same period money to the amount of near seventy pounds
was paid over, Perigo, upon each occasion of payment, receiving silk
bags containing what were pretended to be coins or notes of
corresponding value, which were to be sewn up in the bed as before. In
March 1807, the following letter arrived.
"My dear Friends.--I will be obliged to you if you will let me have
half-a-dozen of your china, three silver spoons, half-a-pound of tea,
two pounds of loaf sugar, and a tea canister to put the tea in, or else
it will not do--I durst not drink out of my own china. You must burn
this with a candle."
The china, &c., not having been sent, in the month of April Miss Blythe
wrote as follows:--
"My dear Friends.--_I will be obliged to you if you will buy me a camp
bedstead, bed and bedding, a blanket, a pair of sheets, and a long
bolster must come from your house._--You need not buy the best feathers,
common ones will do. I have laid on the floor for three nights, and I
cannot lay on my own bed _owing to the planets being so bad concerning
your wife_, and I must have one of your buying or it will not do.--You
must bring down the china, the sugar, the caddy, the three silver
spoons, and the tea at the same time when you buy the bed, and pack them
up altogether.--My brother's boat will be up in a day or two, and I will
order my brother's boatman to call for them all at Mary Bateman's, and
you must give Mary Bateman one shilling for the boatman, and I will
place it to your account. Your wife must burn this as soon as it is read
or it will not do."
This had the desired effect; and the prisoner having called upon the
Perigos, she accompanied them to the shops of a Mr. Dobbin, and a Mr.
Musgrave, at Leeds, to purchase the various articles named, which were
eventually bought at a cost of sixteen pounds, and sent to Mr. Sutton's,
at the Lion and Lamb Inn, Kirkgate, there to await the arrival of the
supposed messenger.
At the end of April, the following letter arrived:--"My dear Friends.--I
am sorry to tell you you will take an illness in the month of May next,
one or both of you, but I think both, but the works of God must have its
course.--You will escape the chambers of the grave; though you seem to
be dead, yet you will live. Your wife must take half-a-pound of honey
down from Bramley to Mary Bateman's at Leeds, and it must remain there
till you go down yourself, and she will put in such like stuff as I have
sent from Scarbro' to her, and she will put it in when you come down,
and see her yourself, or it will not do. You must eat pudding for six
days, and you must put in such like stuff as I have sent to Mary Bateman
from Scarbro', and she will give your wife it, but you must not begin to
eat of this pudding while I let you know. If ever you find yourself
sickly at any time, you must take each of you a teaspoonful of this
honey; I will remit twenty pounds to you on the 20th day of May, and it
will pay a little of what you owe. You must bring this down to Mary
Bateman's, and burn it at her house, when you come down next time."
The instructions contained in this letter were complied with, and the
prisoner having first mixed a white powder in the honey, handed over six
others of the same colour and description to Mrs. Perigo, saying that
they must be used in the precise manner mentioned upon them, or they
would all be killed. On the 5th of May, another letter arrived in the
following terms:--
"My dear Friends.--You must begin to eat pudding on the 11th of May, and
you must put one of the powders in every day as they are marked, for six
days--and you must see it put in yourself every day or else it will not
do. If you find yourself sickly at any time you must not have no doctor,
for it will not do, and you must not let the boy that used to eat with
you eat of that pudding for six days; and you must make only just as
much as you can eat yourselves, if there is any left it will not do. You
must keep the door fast as much as possible or you will be overcome by
some enemy. Now think on and take my directions or else it will kill us
all. About the 25th of May I will come to Leeds and send for your wife
to Mary Bateman's; your wife will take me by the hand and say, 'God
bless you that I ever found you out.' It has pleased God to send me into
the world that I might destroy the works of darkness; I call them the
works of darkness because they are dark to you--now mind what I say
whatever you do. This letter must be burned in straw on the hearth by
your wife."
The absurd credulity of Mr. and Mrs. Perigo even yet favoured the horrid
designs of the prisoner; and, in obedience to the directions which they
received, they began to eat the puddings on the day named. For five
days, they had no particular flavour, but upon the sixth powder being
mixed, the pudding was found so nauseous, that the former could only eat
one or two mouthfuls, while his wife managed to swallow three or four.
They were both directly seized with violent vomiting, and Mrs. Perigo,
whose faith appears to have been greater than that of her husband, at
once had recourse to the honey. Their sickness continued during the
whole day, but although Mrs. Perigo suffered the most intense torments,
she positively refused to hear of a doctor's being sent for, lest, as
she said, the charm should be broken, by Miss Blythe's directions being
opposed. The recovery of the husband from the illness, by which he was
affected, slowly progressed; but the wife, who persisted in eating the
honey, continued daily to lose strength, and at length expired on the
24th of May, her last words being a request to her husband not to be
"rash" with Mary Bateman, but to await the coming of the appointed time.
Mr. Chorley, a surgeon, was subsequently called in to see her body; but
although he expressed his firm belief that the death of the deceased was
caused by her having taken poison, and although that impression was
confirmed by the circumstance of a cat dying immediately after it had
eaten some of the pudding, no further steps were taken to ascertain the
real cause of death, and Perigo even subsequently continued in
communication with the prisoner.
Upon his informing her of the death of his wife, she at once declared
that it was attributable to her having eaten all the honey at once, and
then in the beginning of June, he received the following letter from
Miss Blythe:--
"My dear Friend.--I am sorry to tell you that your wife should touch of
those things which I ordered her not, and for that reason it has caused
her death; it had likened to have killed me at Scarborough, and Mary
Bateman at Leeds, and you and all, and for this reason, she will rise
from the grave, she will stroke your face with her right hand, and you
will lose the use of one side, but I will pray for you.--I would not
have you to go to no doctor, for it will not do. I would have you to eat
and drink what you like, and you will be better. Now, my dear friend,
take my directions, do and it will be better for you.--Pray God bless
you. Amen. Amen. You must burn this letter immediately after it is
read."
Letters were also subsequently received by him, purporting to be from
the same person, in which new demands for clothing, coals, and other
articles were made, but at length, in the month of October 1808, two
years having elapsed since the commencement of the charm, he thought
that, the time had fully arrived, when, if any good effects were to be
produced from it, they would have been apparent, and that therefore he
was entitled to look for his money in the bed. He, in consequence,
commenced a search for the little silk bags, in which his notes and
money had been, as he supposed, sewn up; but although the bags indeed
were in precisely the same positions in which they had been placed by
his deceased wife, by some unaccountable conjuration, the notes and gold
had turned to rotten cabbage-leaves and bad farthings. The darkness, by
which the truth had been so long obscured, now passed away, and having
communicated with the prisoner, by a stratagem, meeting her under
pretence of receiving from her a bottle of medicine, which was to cure
him from the effects of the puddings which still remained, he caused her
to be apprehended. Upon her house being searched, nearly all the
property sent to the supposed Miss Blythe was found in her possession,
and a bottle containing a liquid mixed with two powders, one of which
proved to be oatmeal, and the other arsenic, was taken from her pocket
when she was taken into custody.
The rest of the evidence against the prisoner went to show that there
was no such person as Miss Blythe living at Scarborough, and that all
the letters which had been received by Perigo were in her own
handwriting, and had been sent by her to Scarborough to be transmitted
back again. An attempt was also proved to have been made by her to
purchase some arsenic, at the shop of a Mr. Clough, in Kirkgate, in the
month of April 1807, but the most important testimony was that of Mr.
Chorley, the surgeon, who distinctly proved that he had analysed what
remained of the pudding, and of the contents of the honey pot, and that
he found them both to contain a deadly poison, called corrosive
sublimate of mercury, and that the symptoms exhibited by the deceased
and her husband were such as would have arisen from the administration
of such a drug.
The prisoner's defence consisted of a simple denial of the charge, and
the learned judge then proceeded to address the jury. Having stated the
nature of the allegations made in the indictment, he said that in order
to come to a conclusion as to the guilt of the prisoner, it was
necessary that three points should be clearly made out. 1st. That the
deceased died of poison. 2nd. That that poison was administered by the
contrivance and knowledge of the prisoner. And 3rd. That it was so done
for the purpose of occasioning the death of the deceased. A large body
of evidence had been laid before them, to prove that the prisoner had
engaged in schemes of fraud against the deceased and her husband, which
was proved not merely by the evidence of Wm. Perigo, but by the
testimony of other witnesses; and the inference the prosecutors drew
from this fraud was the existence of a powerful motive or temptation to
commit a still greater crime, for the purpose of escaping the shame and
punishment which must have attended the detection of the fraud; a fraud
so gross, that it excited his surprise that any individual in that age
and nation could be the dupe of it. But the jury should not go beyond
this inference, and presume that, because the prisoner had been guilty
of fraud, she was of course likely to have committed the crime of
murder; that, if proved, must be shown by other evidence. His Lordship
then proceeded to recapitulate the whole of the evidence, as detailed in
the preceding pages, and concluded with the following observations. "It
is impossible not to be struck with wonder at the extraordinary
credulity of Wm. Perigo, which neither the loss of his property, the
death of his wife, and his own severe sufferings, could dispel; and it
was not until the month of October in the following year, that he
ventured to open his hid treasure, and found there what every one in
court must have anticipated that he would find, not a single vestige of
his property; and his evidence is laid before the jury with the
observation which arises from this uncommon want of judgment. His memory
however appears to be very retentive, and his evidence is confirmed, and
that in different parts of the narrative, by other witnesses; and many
parts of the case do not rest upon his evidence at all. The illness, and
peculiar symptoms, which preceded the death of his wife; his own severe
sickness; and a variety of other circumstances attending the experiments
made upon the pudding, were proved by separate and independent
testimony; and it is most strange, that, in a case of so much suspicion
as it appeared to have excited at the time, the interment of the body
should have taken place without any inquiry as to the cause of death, an
inquiry which then would have been much less difficult; though the fact
of the deceased having died of poison is now well established. The main
question is, did the prisoner contrive the means to induce the deceased
to take it?--if she did so contrive the means, the intent could only be
to destroy.--Poison so deadly could not be administered with any other
view. The jury will lay all the facts and circumstances together; and if
they feel them press so strongly against the prisoner, as to induce a
conviction of the prisoner's having procured the deceased to take
poison, with an intent to occasion her death, they will find her guilty;
if they do not think the evidence conclusive, they will, in that case,
find the prisoner not guilty."
The jury, after conferring for a moment, found the prisoner guilty;--and
the judge proceeded to pass sentence of death upon her, in nearly the
following words:--
"Mary Bateman, you have been convicted of wilful murder by a jury, who,
after having examined your case with caution, have, constrained by the
force of evidence, pronounced you guilty; and it only remains for me to
fulfil my painful duty by passing upon you the awful sentence of the
law. After you have been so long in the situation in which you now
stand, and harassed as your mind must be by the long detail of your
crimes, and by listening to the sufferings you have occasioned, I do not
wish to add to your distress by saying more than my duty renders
necessary. Of your guilt, there cannot remain a particle of doubt in the
breast of any one who has heard your case.--You entered into a long and
premeditated system of fraud, which you carried on for a length of time,
which is most astonishing, and by means which one would have supposed
could not, in this age and nation, have been practised with success. To
prevent a discovery of your complicated fraud, and the punishment which
must have resulted therefrom, you deliberately contrived the death of
the persons you had so grossly injured, and that by means of poison, a
mode of destruction against which there is no sure protection; but your
guilty design was not fully accomplished.--And, after so extraordinary a
lapse of time, you are reserved as a signal example of the justice of
that mysterious Providence, which, sooner or later, overtakes guilt like
yours; and at the very time when you were apprehended, there is the
greatest reason to suppose, that if your surviving victim had met you
alone, as you wished him to do, you would have administered to him a
more deadly dose, which would have completed the diabolical project you
had long before formed, but which at that time only partially succeeded;
for upon your person, at that moment, was found a phial containing a
most deadly poison. For crimes like yours, in this world, the gates of
mercy are closed. You afforded your victim no time for preparation; but
the law, while it dooms you to death, has, in its mercy, afforded you
time for repentance, and the assistance of pious and devout men, whose
admonitions, and prayers, and counsels, may assist to prepare you for
another world, where even your crimes, if sincerely repented of, may
find mercy.
"The sentence of the law is, and the court doth award it. That you be
taken to the place from whence you came, and from thence, on Monday
next, to the place of execution, there to be hanged by the neck until
you are dead; and that your body be given to the surgeons to be
dissected and anatomised; and may Almighty God have mercy upon your
soul."
The prisoner having intimated that she was pregnant, the clerk of the
arraigns said, "Mary Bateman, what have you to say, why immediate
execution should not be awarded against you?" On which the prisoner
pleaded that she was twenty-two weeks gone with child. On this plea the
judge ordered the sheriff to impannel a jury of matrons; this order
created a general consternation among the ladies, who hastened to quit
the court, to prevent the execution of so painful an office being
imposed upon them. His lordship, in consequence, ordered the doors to be
closed, and in about half-an-hour, twelve married women being
impannelled, they were sworn in court, and charged to inquire "whether
the prisoner was with quick child?" The jury of matrons then retired
with the prisoner, and on their return into court delivered their
verdict, which was, that Mary Bateman is not with quick child. The
execution of course was not respited, and she was remanded back to
prison.
During the brief interval between her receiving sentence of death and
her execution, the ordinary, the Rev. George Brown, took great pains to
prevail upon her ingenuously to acknowledge and confess her crimes.
Though the prisoner behaved with decorum, during the few hours that
remained of her existence, and readily joined in the customary offices
of devotion, no traits of that deep compunction of mind, which, for
crimes like hers, must be felt where repentance is sincere, could be
observed; but she maintained her caution and mystery to the last. On the
day preceding her execution, she wrote a letter to her husband, in which
she enclosed her wedding-ring, with a request that it might be given to
her daughter. She admitted that she had been guilty of many frauds, but
still denied that she had had any intention to produce the death of Mr.
or Mrs. Perigo.
Upon the Monday morning at five o'clock she was called from her cell, to
undergo the last sentence of the law. She received the communion with
some other prisoners, who were about to be executed on the same day, but
all attempts to induce her to acknowledge the justice of her sentence,
or the crime of which she had been found guilty, proved vain. She
maintained the greatest firmness in her demeanour to the last, which was
in no wise interrupted even upon her taking leave of her infant child,
which lay sleeping in her cell, at the moment of her being called out to
the scaffold.
Upon the appearance of the convict upon the platform, the deepest
silence prevailed amongst the immense assemblage of persons, which had
been collected to witness the execution. As a final duty, the Rev. Mr.
Brown, immediately before the drop fell, again exhorted the unhappy
woman to confession, but her only reply was a repetition of the
declaration of her innocence, and the next moment terminated her
existence.
Her body having remained suspended during the usual time, was cut down,
and sent to the General Infirmary at Leeds to be anatomised. Immense
crowds of persons assembled to meet the hearse, in which it was carried;
and so great was the desire of the people to see her remains, that
30_l._ were collected for the use of the infirmary, by the payment of
3_d._ for each person admitted to the apartment in which they were
exposed.
A short sketch of the life of this remarkable woman, and a few anecdotes
of her proceedings, shall conclude this article. Mary Bateman, it
appears, was born of reputable parents at Aisenby, near Thirsk, in the
North-riding of Yorkshire, in the year 1768: her father, whose name was
Harker, carrying on business as a small farmer. As early as at the age
of five years, she exhibited much of that sly knavery, which
subsequently so extraordinarily distinguished her character; and many
were the frauds and falsehoods, of which she was guilty, and for which
she was punished. In the year 1780, she first quitted her father's
house, to undertake the duties of a servant in Thirsk, but having been
guilty of some peccadilloes, she proceeded to York in 1787; but before
she had been in that city more than twelve months, she was detected in
pilfering some trifling articles of property belonging to her mistress,
and was compelled to run off to Leeds, without waiting either for her
wages or her clothes. For a considerable time she remained without
employment or friends, but at length upon the recommendation of an
acquaintance of her father, she obtained an engagement in the shop of a
mantua-maker, in whose service she remained for more than three years.
She then became acquainted with John Bateman, to whom after a three
weeks' courtship she was married in the year 1792.
Within two months after her marriage, she was found to have been guilty
of many frauds, and she only escaped prosecution by inducing her husband
to move frequently from place to place, so as to escape apprehension;
and at length poor Bateman, driven almost wild by the tricks of his
wife, entered the supplementary militia. Mrs. Bateman was now entirely
thrown upon her own resources, and unable to follow any reputable trade,
she in the year 1799 took up her residence in Marsh Lane, near Timble
Bridge, Leeds, and proceeded to deal in fortune-telling and the sale of
charms. From a long course of iniquity, carried on chiefly through the
medium of the most wily arts, she had acquired a manner, and a mode of
speech peculiarly adapted to her new profession; and abundance of
credulous victims, upon whom she was able to prosecute her schemes,
daily presented themselves to her.
Her first daring attempt was upon a Mrs. Greenwood, whom she persuaded
that her husband was in a situation of the greatest peril, which would
be aggravated by the circumstance being mentioned to him; that he was in
danger of being accused of a crime, for which he would be instantly
sacrificed, and that so relentless and determined were his prosecutors,
that unless four pieces of gold, four pieces of leather, four pieces of
blotting-paper, and four brass screws were given to her, to "screw them
down," he would be dead before the morning. Mrs. Greenwood,
unfortunately for the trick, was not possessed of even one piece of
gold, and the proposition of the "witch," that she should steal what she
wanted, so startled her, that she had fortitude enough to emancipate
herself from the trammels which had been thrown round her.
Her next attempt was upon a poor woman named Stead, upon whose jealous
fears she worked so far, as to obtain from her nearly the whole of her
furniture, under pretence of "screwing down," a woman, with whom she
represented that her husband was intimate. Stead was about to enter the
army; and Mrs. Bateman next easily found means to persuade him, as she
had persuaded his wife, of her powers, and she obtained from him all the
little money, which he had obtained as his bounty, under the pretence of
"screwing down" his officers to give him promotion. The fascinating and
all powerful Miss Blythe had not yet been discovered, but all her
operations were now performed through the medium of a Mrs. Moore, whose
existence, it may readily be supposed, was as doubtful as that of her
subsequent coadjutor.
Terror was the great engine by which this woman carried on her frauds,
and as the wife of Stead had still a few articles of furniture and
clothing--the last sad wreck of their property, she persuaded her if
something was not done to prevent it, her daughter who was then only
about eight years of age, would, when she attained the age of fourteen,
become pregnant of an illegitimate child, and that either she would
murder herself, or would be murdered by her seducer, to prevent which,
17_s._ was to be placed in Mary Bateman's hands. This money she was to
hand over to the invisible Mrs. Moore, who was to reduce the coin to a
"silver charm," which charm was to be worn round the girl's arm till the
period of danger was past, but which, when the bubble burst three months
after, was cut from the child's arm, when by a strange transmutation of
metal, the silver had turned to pewter.
In the midst of these scenes of fraud in one party, and weakness in the
other, a relation of Stead's came over to Leeds in a state of pregnancy,
and forsaken by her lover. This young woman was a fine subject for the
artful Mary Bateman, who soon learned her misfortune, and undertook, on
condition that a guinea was given to her, for Mrs. Moore, to make the
lover marry her. The money was paid, but no lover appeared. It was then
found out that he was too strong for the first charm, and that more
money and more screws would be necessary to screw him down to the altar
of Hymen. Still he came not; and the girl finding the money she had fast
diminishing, procured a service in a respectable family in Leeds, the
master of which being a bachelor, Mary soon contrived to persuade the
silly girl that she could by her arts oblige him to marry her. Here a
difficulty arose--the unborn child was in the way; but Mary, ever ready
to undertake any business, however desperate, engaged to remove the
impediment, and for that purpose administered certain medicines to the
ill-fated young woman, which produced the desired effect, and abortion
ensued. The master after all was not to be caught; but the girl's former
sweetheart coming over to Leeds married her, though she was, at that
time, owing as is supposed to the medicine given to her by Mary Bateman,
in a very emaciated state. In speaking of her connexion with this vile
woman, she used the following remarkable expression:--"Had I never known
Mary Bateman, my child would now have been in my arms, and I should have
been a healthy woman--but it is in eternity, and I am going after it as
fast as time and a ruined constitution can carry me." The unhappy girl
died soon after, a melancholy instance of the direful effects which too
great credulity and weakness of mind may produce.
The artifices and frauds of which she had been hitherto guilty, however,
shrink into comparative obscurity, when opposed with the offences which
Mrs. Bateman subsequently committed. The case of the unhappy Mrs. Perigo
has been already mentioned, and its circumstances detailed, but there is
too much reason to believe that she was concerned in producing the death
of three persons, a crime of still greater and more cold-blooded
cruelty. The Misses Kitchen were quaker ladies, who carried on the
business of linen-drapers, near St. Peter's Square, Leeds, and Mrs.
Bateman, by representations of her skill in divination, and reading the
stars, managed so far to ingratiate herself into their good graces as to
become their confidant and most intimate adviser. She attended their
shop, was a constant visitor at their house, and her interference
extended even to the domestic concerns of the family. In the month of
September, 1803, the younger Miss Kitchen was attacked with a severe and
painful illness, and Bateman possessing the full confidence of the
family procured medicines from a person whom she described as a country
doctor, but instead of their producing any improvement in the condition
of the unhappy patient, in less than a week she died. Her mother arrived
from Wakefield, where she lived, in time only to receive the last breath
of her daughter, but in two days, she, as well as the surviving sister,
died, and they were all three placed in the same grave. Throughout the
whole of these distressing illnesses Mary Bateman was the sole attendant
upon the unhappy women, and after their death she took upon herself the
task of rendering them those last melancholy offices, which are usually
the duty of the near relations of the deceased. No person was permitted
by her to enter the house, under pretence that the deceased persons had
been affected by the plague, except those, whose presence was rendered
necessary in order to the performance of the rites of sepulture; and for
many weeks the neighbourhood was shunned, lest the supposed infection
might spread. Mrs. Bateman, however, in the midst of all, exhibited the
most praiseworthy and disinterested affection for the poor ladies, and
in the face of all danger, hesitated not to minister to their wants, and
even after death to take those precautions, in fumigating the house,
which were supposed to be necessary. She prepared their meals, and by
her hands alone were the medicines administered, which she professed to
have been prescribed. Several months had elapsed before any inquiries
were made as to the condition in which the deceased persons had died,
and then some of their creditors having determined to ascertain what
property they had left behind them, entered the house. To their surprise
they discovered that of the furniture and stock, of which the deceased
had been known to be possessed, scarce a vestige remained; and the
discovery of some articles of property in the house of Bateman, which
were known to have belonged to the deceased ladies, but which the former
declared had been given to her by them, afforded grounds for a
well-founded suspicion that poison was the "plague" of which they had
died, although under the circumstances of the case, and after the lapse
of so long a time, evidence could not be obtained which could be deemed
conclusive upon the subject. The determined cruelty exercised in the
case of the Perigos appeared to sanction the suspicions which were
entertained, and after conviction Mrs. Bateman was minutely questioned
upon the subject, but all efforts to induce a confession of this crime,
or of that of which she was found guilty, proved unavailing.
It would be useless to follow this wretched woman through the subsequent
scenes of her miserable life. Fraud and deceit were the only means, by
which she was able to carry on the war, and numerous were the impudent
and heartless schemes which she put into operation to dupe the unhappy
objects of her attacks. Her character was such as to prevent her long
pursuing her occupation in one position, and she was repeatedly
compelled to change her abode until she at length took up her residence
in Black Dog Lane, where she was apprehended. Her husband at this time
had returned from the militia several years, and although he followed
the trade to which he had been brought up, there can be little doubt
that he shared the proceeds of his wife's villanies.
Mary Bateman was neat in her person and dress, and though there was
nothing ingenuous in her countenance, it had an air of placidity and
composure, not ill adapted to make a favourable impression on those who
visited her. Her manner of address was soft and insinuating, with the
affectation of sanctity. In her domestic arrangements she was regular,
and was mistress of such qualifications in housewifery as, with an
honest heart, would have enabled her to fill her station with
respectability and usefulness.
A few anecdotes upon the subject of the belief in witchcraft, in former
days, we trust will not prove uninteresting to our readers.
The reign of James the Sixth of Scotland, and First of England, may be
said to have been the witchcraft age of Great Britain. Scotland had
always been a sort of fairy land; but it remained for that sagacious
prince, at a time when knowledge was beginning to dispel the mists of
superstition, to contribute, by his authority and writings, to resolve a
prejudice of education into an article of religious belief amongst the
Scottish people. He wrote and published a "Treatise on Dæmonologie;" the
purpose of which was, to "resolve the doubting hearts of many, as to the
fearful abounding of those detestable slaves of the Devil, witches, or
enchanters." The authority of Scripture was perverted, to show, not only
the possibility, but certainty, that such "detestable scenes" do exist;
and many most ridiculous stories of evil enchantment were added, to
establish their "fearful abounding." The treatise, which is in the form
of a dialogue, treats also of the punishment which such crimes deserve;
concluding, that
[Illustration: _Meeting of Witches._
_P. 468._]
"no sex, age, nor rank, should be excused from the punishment of death,
according to the law of God, the civil and imperial law, and the
municipal law of all Christian nations." In answer to the question,
"What to judge of deathe, I pray you?" The answer is, "It is commonlie
used by fyre, but there is an indifferent thing to be used in every
country, according to the law or custume thereof."
Such, in fact, was the cruel and barbarous law of James's native
country; and such became the law also of England, when he succeeded to
the sceptre of Elizabeth. Many hundreds of unfortunate creatures, in
both countries, became its victims, suffering death ignominiously, for
an impossible offence: neither sex, nor age, nor rank, as James had
sternly enjoined, was spared; and it was the most helpless and
inoffensive, such as aged and lone women, who were most exposed to its
malignant operation.
There were persons regularly employed in hunting out, and bringing to
punishment, those unfortunate beings suspected of witchcraft.
Matthew Hopkins resided at Manningtree, in Essex, and was witch-finder
for the associated counties of Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and
Huntingdonshire. In the years 1644, 1645, and 1646, accompanied by one
John Stern, he brought many to the fatal tree as reputed witches. He
hanged, in one year, no less than sixty reputed witches of his own
county of Essex. The old, the ignorant, and the indigent, such as could
neither plead their own cause nor hire an advocate, were the miserable
victims of this wretch's credulity, spleen, and avarice. He pretended to
be a great critic in _special marks_, which were only moles, scorbutic
spots, or warts, that frequently grow large and pendulous in old age;
but were absurdly supposed to be teats to suckle imps. His ultimate
method of proof was by tying together the thumbs and toes of the
suspected person, about whose waist was fastened a cord, the ends of
which were held on the banks of the river by two men, in whose power it
was to strain or slacken it. Swimming, upon this experiment, was deemed
a sufficient proof of guilt; for which king James (who is said to have
recommended, if he did not invent it) assigned a ridiculous reason,
that, "as some persons had renounced their baptism by water, so the
water refuses to receive them." Sometimes those who were accused of
diabolical practices, were tied neck and heels, and tossed into a pond:
if they floated or swam, they were consequently guilty, and were
therefore taken out and burned; but if they were innocent, they were
only drowned. The experiment of swimming was at length tried upon
Hopkins himself, in his own way, and he was upon the event condemned,
and, as it seems, executed as a wizard. In a letter from Serjeant
Widrinton to Lord Whitelocke, mention is made of another fellow of the
same profession as Hopkins. This fellow received twenty shillings a-head
for every witch he discovered, and thereby obtained rewards amounting to
thirty pounds.
In an old print of this execrable character, he is represented with two
witches. One of them, named Holt, is supposed to say, "My Impes are, 1.
Ilemauzyr; 2. Pyewackett; 3. Pecke in the Crown; 4. Griezell
Griediegutt." Four animals attend: Jarmara, a black dog; Sacke and
Sugar, a hare; Newes, a ferret; Vinegar Tom, a bull-headed greyhound.
This print is in the Pepysian library.
Amongst a number of women (as many as sixteen) whom Hopkins, in the year
1644, accused at Yarmouth, was one, of whom the following account is
given. It appears that she used to work for Mr. Moulton (a stocking
merchant, and alderman of the town), and upon a certain day went to his
house for work; but he being from home, his man refused to let her have
any till his master returned; whereupon, being exasperated against the
man, she applied herself to the maid, and desired some knitting-work of
her; and when she returned the like answer, she went home in great
discontent against them both. That night, when she was in bed, she heard
a knock at her door, and going to her window, she saw (it being
moon-light) a tall black man there: and asked what he would have? He
told her that she was discontented, because she could not get work; and
that he would put her into a way that she should never want anything. On
this, she let him in, and asked him what he had to say to her? He told
her he must first see her hands; and taking out something like a
penknife, he gave it a little scratch, so that a little blood followed,
a scar being still visible when she told the story; then he took some of
the blood in a pen, and pulling a book out of his pocket, bid her write
her name; and when she said she could not, he said he would guide her
hand. When this was done, he bid her now ask what she would have. And
when she desired first to be revenged on the man, he promised to give
her an account of it next night, and so leaving her some money went
away. The next night he came to her again, and told her he could do
nothing against the man, for he went constantly to church, and said his
prayers morning and evening. Then she desired him to revenge her on the
maid; and he again promised her an account thereof the next night: but
he said the same of the maid, and that therefore he could not hurt her.
But she said that there was a young child in the house, which was more
easy to be dealt with. Whereupon she desired him to do what he could
against it. The next night he came again, and brought with him an image
of wax, and told her they must go and bury that in the church-yard, and
then the child, which he had put in great pain already, should waste
away as that image wasted. Whereupon they went together and buried it.
The child having laid in a languishing condition for about eighteen
months, and being very near death, the minister sent this woman with
this account to the magistrates, who thereupon sent her to Mr.
Moulton's, where, in the same room that the child lay, almost dead, she
was examined concerning the particulars aforesaid; all which she
confessed, and had no sooner done, but the child, who was three years
old, and was thought to be dead or dying, laughed, and began to stir and
raise up itself: and from that instant began to recover. The woman was
convicted upon her own confession, and was executed accordingly.
A more melancholy tale does not occur in the annals of necromancy, than
that of the Lancashire Witches, in 1612. The scene of the story is in
Penderbury Forest, four or five miles from Manchester, remarkable for
its picturesque and gloomy situation. It had long been of ill repute, as
a consecrated haunt of diabolical intercourse, when a country
magistrate, Roger Nowel by name, took it into his head that he should
perform a great public service by routing out a nest of witches, who had
rendered the place a terror to all the neighbouring vulgar. The first
persons he seized on, were Elizabeth Demdike and Ann Chattox. The former
was eighty years of age, and had for some years been blind, and
principally subsisted by begging, though she had a miserable hovel on
the spot, which she called her own. Anne Chattox was of the same age,
and had for some time been threatened with the calamity of blindness.
Demdike was held to be so hardened a witch that she had trained all her
family to the mystery: namely, Elizabeth Device, her daughter, and James
and Alison Device, her great-grandchildren. These, together with John
Balcock, and Jane his mother, Alice Natter, Catherine Hewitt, and Isabel
Roby, were successively apprehended by the diligence of Nowel, and one
or two neighbouring magistrates, and were all of them by some means
induced, some to make a more liberal, and others a more restricted
confession of their misdeeds in witchcraft, and were afterwards hurried
away to Lancaster Castle, fifty miles off, to prison. Their crimes were
said to have universally proceeded from malignity and resentment; and it
was reported to have repeatedly happened for poor old Demdike to be led
by night from her habitation into the open air, by some member of her
family, where she was left alone for an hour to curse her victim, and
pursue her unholy incantations, and was then sought and brought back
again to her hovel, her curses never failing to produce the desired
effect.
The poor wretches had been but a short time in prison, when information
was given that a meeting of witches was held on Good-Friday, at Malkin's
Tower, the habitation of Elizabeth Device, to the number of twenty
persons, to consult how, by infernal machinations, to kill one Lovel, an
officer, to blow up Lancaster Castle, deliver the prisoners, and to kill
another man, of the name of Lister. The last object was effected; the
other plans, by some means, which are not related, were prevented.
The prisoners were kept in jail till the summer assizes; but in the mean
time, the poor blind Demdike died in confinement.
The other prisoners were severally indicted for killing by witchcraft
certain persons who were named, and were all found guilty. The principal
witnesses against Elizabeth Device were James Device and Jennet Device,
her grandchildren, the latter only nine years of age. When this girl was
put into the witness-box, the grandmother, on seeing her, set up so
dreadful a yell, intermixed with dreadful curses, that the child
declared that she could not go on with her evidence, unless the prisoner
was removed. This was agreed to, and both brother and sister swore that
they had been present, when the Devil came to their grandmother, in the
shape of a black dog, and asked her what she desired. She said the death
of John Robinson; when the dog told her to make an image of Robinson in
clay, and after crumble it into dust, and as fast as the image perished,
the life of the victim should waste away, and in conclusion the man
should die. This testimony was received; and upon the conviction, which
followed, ten persons were led to the gallows, on the twentieth of
August, Anne Chattox, of eighty years of age, among the rest, the day
after the trials, which lasted two days, were finished.
The judges who presided on these trials were Sir James Altham and Sir
Edward Bromley, barons of the exchequer.
Guluim, who gives the most simple and interesting account of this
melancholy case, conjectures, with much reason, that the old women had
played at the game of commerce with the Devil, in order to make their
simpler neighbours afraid of them; and that they played the game so
long, that in an imperfect degree they deceived themselves. But when one
of them actually saw her grandchild of nine years old placed in the
witness-box, with the intention of consigning her to a public and
ignominious death, then the reveries of the imagination vanished, and
she deeply felt the reality, that, when she had been somewhat imposing
on the child, in devilish sport, she had been whetting the dagger that
was to take her own life. It was then no wonder that she uttered a
supernatural yell, and poured curses from her heart.
Such was the first case of the Lancashire Witches. In that which
follows, the accusation was clearly traced to be founded on a most
villanous conspiracy.
About the year 1634, a boy named Edmund Robinson, whose father, a very
poor man, dwelt in Pendle Forest, the scene of the alleged witching,
declared that, while gathering wild-flowers in one of the glades of the
forest, he saw two greyhounds, which he supposed to belong to a
gentleman in the neighbourhood. Seeing nobody following them, the boy
alleged that he proposed to have a course; but, though a hare was
started, the dogs refused to run. Young Robinson was about to punish
them with a switch, when one Dame Dickenson, a neighbour's wife, started
up instead of the one greyhound; and a little boy instead of the other.
The witness averred that Mother Dickenson offered him money to conceal
what he had seen, which he refused, saying, 'Nay; thou art a witch!'
Apparently, she was determined he should have full evidence of the truth
of what he said, for she pulled out of her pocket a bridle, and shot it
over the head of the boy, who had so lately represented the other
greyhound. He was then directly changed into a horse; Mother Dickenson
mounted, and took Robinson before her. They made to a large house or
barn, called Hours town, into which the boy entered with the others. He
there saw six or seven persons pulling at halters, from which, as they
pulled them, meat ready-dressed came flying in quantities, together with
lumps of butter, porringers of milk, and whatever else might, in his
fancy, complete a rustic feast. He declared that, while engaged in the
charm, they made such ugly faces and looked so fiendish, that he was
frightened.
This story succeeded so well, that the father of the boy took him round
to the neighbouring churches, where he placed him standing on a bench
after service, and bade him look round and see what he could observe.
The device, however clumsy, succeeded; and no less than seventeen
persons were apprehended at the boy's election, and conducted, as
witches, to Lancaster Castle. These seventeen persons were tried at the
assizes and found guilty; but the judge, whose name has unfortunately
been lost, unlike Sir James Altham and Sir Edward Bromley, saw something
in the case that excited his suspicion, and, though the juries had not
hesitated in any one instance, respited the convicts, and sent up a
report of the affair to the government. Twenty-two years had not elapsed
since the former case, in vain. Four of the prisoners were, by the
judge's recommendation, sent for to the metropolis, and were examined,
first by the king's physician, and then by Charles the First, in person.
The boy's story was strictly scrutinised, and in the end, he confessed
that it was all an imposture, in which he had been instructed by his
father; and the whole seventeen prisoners received the royal pardon.
So late as the year 1679, several unfortunate persons were tried and
executed at Borrostowness in Scotland, for witchcraft, four of them
being poor widows. The following is a literal copy of the indictment
upon which they were arraigned--
"Annaple Thomsone, widow in Borrostowness, Margaret Pringle, relect of
the deceast John Campbell, seivewright there, &c. &c.
"Aye, and ilk ane of you, are indigtted and accused, that, whereas,
notwithstanding the law of God particulurlie sett down in the 20th
chapter of Leveticus and the 18th chapter of Deuteronomy, and be the
lawes and actes of parliament of this kingdome and constant practis
thereof, particularlie to the 27 act, 29 parliament Q. Marie, the cryme
of witchcraft is declaired to be one horreid, abominable, and capitall
cryme, punishable with the pains of death and confiscatiown of
moveables:--nevertheless it is of veritie, that you have comitted and
are gwyltie of the said crime of witchcraft, in awa far ye have entered
in practicion with the devile, the enemie of your salvatiown, and have
renownced our blessed Lord and Savior, and your baptizme, and have given
yoursellfes, both soulles and bodies, to the devile, and swyndrie wyth
witches, in divers places. And particularlie ye, the said Annaple
Thompsone, had a metting with the devile the time of your weidowhood,
before you were married to your last husband, in your coming betwixt
Linlithgow and Borrostowness, where the devile, in the lykeness of one
black man, told you, that you was one poor puddled bodie, and had one
lyiff and difficulties to win throu the world; and promesed iff ye wald
followe him, and go alongst with him, you should never want, but have
one better lyiff; and about fyve wekes thereafter the devile appeared to
you, when you was going to the coal-hill, abowt sevin a-clock in the
morning. Having renewed his former temtatiown, you did condeshend
thereto and declared yourselff content to follow him and become his
servant; whereupon the devile * * * and ye and each persone of you wis
at several metting with the devile, in the linkes of Borrostowness, and
in the house of you, Bessie Vicker; and ye did eate and drink with the
devile, and with one another, and with witches in her howss in the night
tyme; and the said Wm. Crow brought the ale, which ye drank, extending
about sevin gallons, from the howss of Elizabeth Hamilton; and you, the
said Annaple, had another metting about fyve wekes ago, when you wis
goeing to the coal-hill of Grange, and he inveitted you to go alongst
and drink with him in the Grange farmes; and you, the said Margaret
Pringle, have bein one witch this many yeeres by gone, hath renownced
your baptizme and becum the devile's servant, and promeis to follow him;
and the devile took you by the right hand, whereby it was for eight days
greivowslie pained, but, having it twitched new again, it immedeatelie
became haill; and you, the said Margaret Hamilton has bein the devile's
servant these eight or nine years by gone, and he appeared and conversed
with you at the town well of Borrostowness, and several times at your
owin howss, and drank several choppens of ale with you. * * and the
devile gane you ane fyne merk piece of gold, which a lyttle after becam
are skleite stone; and you, the said Margaret Hamilton, relict of James
Pullevart, has been ane witch, and the devile's servant, thertie yeres
since, hath renounced your baptisme, as said is
* * * * *
And ye, and ilk of you, was at a meeting with the devile and other
witches, at the croce of Murestain, above Renneil, upon the threttein of
October last, where you all danced, and the devile acted the piper, and
where you endevored to have destroyed Androw Mitchell, sone to John
Mitchell, elder in dean of Kenneil."
The charges thus made against the "poor puddled bodies," Annaple
Thomsone and her associates, however ludicrous they may seem, were
substantiated to the satisfaction of a jury; and for so meeting, and
dancing, and drinking, and frolicking with his satanic majesty (who
condescended to act the piper), the unfortunate defendants were solemnly
condemned, "to be taken to the west end of Borrostowness, the ordinary
place of execution there, upon Tuesday, the 23rd day of December
current, betwixt two and four in the afternoon, and then to be wirried
at a steack [that is, like a bull or a badger, by dogs in human shape]
till they be dead, and thereafter to have their bodies burned to ashes."
The strange and eventful history of the Witches of New England is,
perhaps, generally known to the educated and informed; still there must
be many who are not aware of all its melancholy details. As a story of
witchcraft, without any poetry in it, without anything to amuse the
imagination, or interest the fancy, it, perhaps, surpasses everything
upon record. The prosecutions for witchcraft in New England were
numerous, and they continued, with little intermission, principally at
Salem, during the greater part of the year 1692. The accusations were of
the most vulgar and contemptible sort--invisible pinchings and blows,
fits, with the blastings and mortality of cattle, and wains stuck fast
in the ground, or losing their wheels. A conspicuous feature in nearly
the whole of these stories, was what they named "the spectral sight,"
or, in other words, that the profligate accusers first feigned, for the
most part, the injuries they received, and next saw the figures and
action of the persons who inflicted them, when they were invisible to
every one else. Hence the miserable prosecutors gained the power of
gratifying the wantonness of their malice, by pretending that they
suffered by the hand of any one against whom they had an ill will. The
persons so charged, though unseen by any one but the accuser, and who in
their corporal presence were at a distance of miles, and were doubtless
wholly unconscious of the mischief that was hatching against them, were
immediately taken up, and cast into prison. And what was more monstrous
and incredible, there stood the prisoner on trial for his life, while
the witnesses were permitted to swear that his spectre had haunted them,
and afflicted them with all manner of injuries!
The first specimen of this sort of accusation was given by one Paris, a
minister of a church at Salem, in the end of the year 1691, who had two
daughters, one nine years old, the other eleven, who were afflicted with
fits and convulsions. The first person fixed on as the mysterious author
of these evils, was Tituba, a female slave in the family, and she was
harassed by her master into a confession of unlawful practices and
spells. The girls then fixed on Sarah Good, a female, known to be the
victim of a morbid melancholy, and Osborne, a poor man who had for a
considerable time been bed-ridden, as persons whose spectres had
perpetually haunted and tormented them, and Good was, twelve months
afterwards, hanged on this accusation.
A person, who was one of the first to fall under the imputation, was one
George Burroughs, also a minister of Salem. He had, it seems, buried two
wives, both of whom the busy gossips said he had used ill in their
life-time, and, consequently, it was whispered he had murdered them. He
was accustomed, foolishly, to vaunt that he knew what people said of him
in his absence, and this was brought as a proof that he dealt with the
devil. Two women, who were witnesses against him, interrupted their
testimony with exclaiming that they saw the ghosts of the murdered wives
present (who had promised them they would come), though no one else in
the court saw them; and this was taken in evidence. Burroughs conducted
himself in a very injudicious way on his trial; but, when he came to be
hanged, made so impressive a speech on the ladder, with fervent
protestations of innocence, as melted many of the spectators into tears.
The accusations, founded upon such stories as these, spread, with
wonderful rapidity. In Salem, many were seized with fits, exhibited
frightful contortions of their limbs and features, and became a fearful
spectacle to the bystanders. They were asked to assign the cause of all
this; and pretended to suppose, that they saw some neighbour, already
solitary and afflicted, and on that account in ill odour with the
townspeople, scowling upon, threatening, and tormenting them. Presently
persons, specially gifted with the 'spectral sight,' formed a class by
themselves, and were sent about at the public expense from place to
place, that they might see what no one else could see. The prisons were
filled with the persons accused, and the utmost horror was entertained,
as of a calamity which in such a degree had never before visited that
part of the world. It happened, most unfortunately, that Baxter's
"Certainty of the World of Spirits" had been published but the year
before, and a number of copies had been sent out to New England. There
seemed a strange coincidence and sympathy between vital christianity in
its most honourable sense, and the fear of the devil, who appeared to be
"come down unto them, with great wrath." Mr. Increase Mather, and Mr.
Cotton Mather, his son, two clergymen of the highest reputation in the
neighbourhood, by the solemnity and awe with which they treated the
subject, and the earnestness and zeal which they displayed, gave a
sanction to the lowest superstition and virulence of the ignorant. All
the forms of justice were brought forward on this occasion. There was no
lack of judges, and grand juries, and petty juries, and executioners,
and still less of prosecutors and witnesses. The first person that was
hanged was on the 10th of June, five more on the 19th of July, five on
the 19th of August, and eight on the 22nd of September. Multitudes
confessed that they were witches; for this appeared the only way for the
accused to save their lives. Husbands and children fell down on their
knees, and implored their wives and mothers to own their guilt. Many
were tortured by being tied neck and heels together, till they confessed
whatever was suggested to them. It is remarkable, however, that not one
persisted in her confession at the place of execution.
The most interesting story that occurred in this affair, was of Giles
Cory, and Martha, his wife. The woman was tried on the 9th of September,
and hanged on the 22nd. In the interval, on the 16th, the husband was
brought up for trial. He said he was not guilty; but being asked how he
would be tried, he refused to go through the customary form, and say,
"By God, and my country." He observed that, of all that had been tried,
not one had as yet been pronounced not guilty; and he resolutely refused
in that mode to undergo a trial. The judge directed, therefore, that
according to the barbarous mode prescribed in the mother country, he
should be laid on his back, and pressed to death with weights gradually
accumulated on the upper surface of his body, a proceeding which had
never yet been resorted to by the English in North America. The man
persisted in his resolution, and remained mute till he expired.
The whole of this dreadful tragedy, says Mr. Godwin, in his "Lives of
the Necromancers," was kept together by a thread. The spectre-seers, for
a considerable time, prudently restricted their accusations to persons
of ill repute, or otherwise of no consequence in the community.
By-and-bye, however, they lost sight of this caution, and pretended they
saw the figures of some persons well connected, and of unquestioned
honour and reputation, engaged in acts of witchcraft. Immediately the
whole fell through in a moment. The leading inhabitants presently saw
how unsafe it would be to trust their reputations and their lives to the
mercy of these profligate accusers. Of fifty-six bills of indictment
that were offered to the grand jury on the 3rd of January, 1693,
twenty-six only were found true bills, and thirty thrown out. On the
twenty-six bills that were found, three persons only were pronounced
guilty by the petty jury, and these three received their pardon from the
government. The prisons were thrown open; fifty confessed witches,
together with two hundred persons imprisoned on suspicion, were set at
liberty, and no more accusations were heard of. The "afflicted," as they
were technically termed, recovered their health; the "spectral sight"
was universally scouted; and men began to wonder how they could ever
have been the victims of so horrible a delusion.
Dr. Cook, in his General and Historical Review of Christianity, gives a
melancholy description of the condemnation of a woman for witchcraft, by
a tribunal at Geneva, about the middle of the seventeenth century. An
enumeration of some of the particulars of this case will afford a
tolerably correct notion of the horrible cruelty, which, in almost all
proceedings against witchcraft, was practised in different parts of
Europe. The woman was accused of having sent devils into two young
women, and of having brought distempers upon several others,--a charge
sufficiently vague. To substantiate the accusation, the members of the
tribunal availed themselves of an opinion, that the devil imprinted
certain marks upon his chosen disciples, the effect of which was, that
no pain could be produced by any application to the parts of the body
where these marks were. They sent two surgeons to examine whether such
marks could be discovered in the accused; who reported, not much to the
credit of their medical skill and philosophy, that they had found a
mark, and that, having thrust a needle into it, the length of a finger,
she had felt no pain, and that no blood had issued from the wound. Being
brought to the bar, the prisoner denied the statement of the surgeons;
upon which she was examined by three more, with whom were joined two
physicians. It might have been expected that a body of men, who had
received a liberal education, and who must have had some acquaintance
with the nature and construction of the human frame, would have
presented a report, showing the absurdity of the examination upon which
they were employed. This, however, did not occur to them; for they
gravely proceeded to thrust sharp instruments into the mark already
mentioned, and into others which they thought they had found out; but,
as the miserable patient gave plain indication that she suffered from
their operations, they were staggered, and satisfied themselves with
declaring, that there was something extraordinary in the marks, and that
they were not perfectly like those commonly to be seen in witches. She
was, notwithstanding, doomed to another investigation, the result of
which was, that after some barbarous experiments, she felt no pain, and
hence it was inferred that the marks were satanical. She had previously
to this last inquiry, been actually put to the rack; but she retained
her fortitude and presence of mind, firmly maintaining that she had sent
no devils into the persons whom it was alleged she had thus injured. She
was again threatened with the torture; and, from dread of undergoing it,
made a confession, which it is painful to think was not at once
discerned to be the raving of insanity. Similar proceedings were
continued; and the conclusion of the whole was, that she was condemned
to be hanged and burned, for giving up herself to the devil, and for
bewitching two girls!
We conclude this article by the well-known case of the trial and
acquittal of Lady Fowlis.
Catherine Ross, Lady Fowlis, was the daughter of Ross of Balnagown, and
second wife of the fifteenth Baron of Fowlis. The object of her crimes
was to destroy her step-sons, Robert and Hector Monro, with about thirty
of their principal kinsmen, in order that her own children might succeed
to the possessions of their father, which were considerable, and lay in
the counties of Ross, Sutherland, and Inverness. Her brother, George
Ross, seems to have been in league with her for the accomplishment of
this diabolical purpose, and his wife, the young Lady Balnagown, was
marked out as a victim, whose removal, with that of the rest of the
family, might pave the way for his marriage with the wife of Robert
Monro, the young laird. Their schemes were brought into active operation
in the summer of 1577. Towards the end of that year, four of their
accomplices, Agnes Roy, Christian Ross, of Canorth, William
M'Gillievoricdam, and Thomas M'Kane More M'Allan M'Evoch, were arraigned
in a justice court, held in the Cathedral Kirk of Ross, convicted, and
burnt. One of the judges who presided at this trial, was Robert Monro,
the husband of the principal instigator of the crimes, and father of the
family whose lives were practised against. Lady Fowlis, upon the
discovery of her wickedness, fled into the county of Caithness, and,
after remaining there for the space of three quarters of a year, her
husband was persuaded to receive her home again; and she seems to have
lived unmolested during the rest of the life of the old baron; and even
the young laird, for whose destruction she had perseveringly laboured,
made no exertion to bring her to justice. His brother Hector, however,
on succeeding him in 1590, procured a commission for the punishment of
certain witches and sorcerers, which was understood to be aimed at his
step-mother; but before he had time to act upon the power thus granted,
she had influence enough to obtain a suspension of the commission; and
it was not till July 1591 that she was brought to trial. The evidence
mainly rested upon, was that of the notoriety of the facts, and the
confession of the accomplices; each count of the indictment closed with
a reference to the record of the process before the provincial court,
with the occasional addition of "as is notour," "as is manifest be the
haill countie of Roiss," or words to that effect. The verdict was
favourable to the accused; but Mr. Pitcairn is of opinion, that her
escape was owing to her powerful influence. "The inquest," he says,
"bears all the appearance of a selected or packed jury, being very
inferior in rank and station of life, contrary to the usual custom." The
dittory or indictment is the only part of the proceedings that is
preserved; indeed, the reading of it seems to have constituted the whole
case of the prosecutor, and the simple denial of the "samin and the
haill poyntis thereof," the whole case for the accused; after which the
jury retired to consider their verdict.
The first method adopted to compass the deaths of the persons who stood
in the way of her ambition, was to form figures to represent the young
Laird of Fowlis and the young Lady Balnagown, which were to be shot at
with elf-arrows, in conformity with the belief, that, if these charmed
weapons struck the typical bodies, the wounds would be felt in the real
bodies, and produce invisibly the desired effect. For the performance of
the necessary rites, a meeting of three witches took place in the house
of Christian Ross, at Canorth, Christian herself being one of them, Lady
Fowlis another, and Marjory M'Allester, a hag of peculiar eminence,
distinguished also by the name of Loskie Loncart, the third. Having
constructed two images of clay, they placed them on the north side of
the western chamber, and Loskie, producing two elf-arrows, delivered one
to Christian Ross, who stood by with it in her hand, while, with the
other, Lady Fowlis shot twice at the figure of Lady Balnagown, and
Loskie three times at that of Robert Monro, without success. In the mean
time, the images not having been properly compacted, crumbled to pieces;
and their purpose being thus thwarted for the present, the unhallowed
convocation broke up, Loskie having engaged, at the command of Lady
Fowlis, to make two other figures. M'Gillievoricdam seems now to have
been taken into their counsels; and by his advice, an image in butter of
the young Laird of Fowlis was placed by the side of the wall in the same
western chamber of Canorth, and shot at eight times with an elf-arrow by
Loskie, without effect. This was on the 2nd of July, 1577; and nothing
discouraged by repeated failures, a clay figure of the same person was
constructed on the 6th, when the indefatigable Loskie discharged the
elf-arrow twelve times, sometimes reaching the image, but never wounding
it. The other two hags stood by, anxiously watching for a successful
shot, Christian Ross having provided three quarters of fine linen cloth,
to be bound about the typical corpse, which was to be interred opposite
the gate of the Stank of Fowlis, in order to complete the enactment by a
full representation of every circumstance which they were desirous of
producing as its consequence. The main part of the rite, however,
consisted in the infliction of a wound; and this not having been
accomplished, they desisted from the vain labour.
The more secret arts of witchcraft having failed to effect the desired
ends, Lady Fowlis next had recourse to poison; and numerous were the
consultations held to concoct drugs and devise means for administering
them. The same assistants figured as the chief agents in this equally
abominable work. A stoup full of poisoned ale was first mixed in the
barn of Drumnyer, but opportunity not serving for its immediate use, it
was kept three nights in the kiln, and the stoup being leaky, the liquor
was lost, all but a very small quantity; to prove the strength of which,
Lady Fowlis caused her servant lad, Donald Mackay, to swallow it. The
three confederates were assembled on this occasion, and as the draught
did not kill the boy, but only threw him into a state of stupor, Loskie
Loncart was dismissed, with an injunction to make "ane pig-full of
ranker poysoune." The obedient hag prepared the potion, and sent it to
her patroness, by whom it was delivered to her nurse, Mary More, to be
conveyed to Angus Leith's house, where the young laird then was, that
it might be employed for his destruction. Night was the time chosen for
despatching her on this errand: she broke the vessel by the way, spilt
the liquor, and, wishing probably to ascertain the nature of what had
been intrusted to her under such circumstances of mystery, tasted it,
and paid the forfeit of her curiosity with her life; and what helps to
show the deadly qualities of their preparation, the indictment adds,
that "the place quhair the said pig brak, the gers that grew upon the
samin wes so hirch by (beyond) the natur of other gers, that nather cow
nor scheip evir preavit (tasted) thairof." It were endless to detail all
the traffickings and messengers kept scouring the country to collect the
required quantity of poison. Loskie Loncart was lodged and maintained a
whole summer in Christian Ross's house, for the greater convenience of
assisting to drug drinks, and devise means of administering them.
M'Gillievoricdam was sent to consult the gipsies about the most
effectual way of poisoning the young laird. He also purchased a quantity
of the powder used to destroy rats, of a merchant in Elgin, and another
portion in Tain, and was strictly questioned by Lady Fowlis, whether it
would suit best to mix the ingredient with egg, brose, or kail. No
fitting opportunity seems to have occurred for administering any of the
portions to Robert Monro; but, after three interviews, John M'Farquhar,
Lady Balnagown's cook, was prevailed upon by the present of two ells of
grey cloth, a shirt, and twelve and fourpence (Scots), to lend them his
aid in accomplishing their purpose on his mistress. That young lady
being to entertain a party of friends one night at her house at Ardmore,
a witch, named Catherine Mynday, carried poison thither to M'Farquhar,
who poured it on the principal dish, which was kidneys. This woman
remained to witness the effects, and afterwards declared that she
"skunnerit," or revolted at the sight, which was "the sarest and maist
cruell that evir scho saw, seeing the vomit and vexacioun that was on
the young Lady Balnagown and her company." The victim of these horrible
practices did not die immediately, but contracted a deadly sickness,
"quhairin," says the indictment, "scho remains yet (that is twelve years
after taking the poison) incurable."
The persons named as privy to the designs of Lady Fowlis were numerous,
and included the daughter of a baronet of her own name, whose interest
in the matter seems to have been merely that of a connexion, or, at
most, a clanswoman; and the bribes with which she purchased assistance
and secrecy were of the paltriest kind. She provided lodgings in the
houses of her adherents, for some whom she wished to have near her, for
the better maturing of her schemes. The cook of young Lady Balnagown was
bribed, as we have seen, with little more than a shirt and a shilling
sterling! The fidelity of Christian Ross was bespoken, by reminding her
that she ought not to reveal anything against one who was her lady and
mistress. Another of the gang was paid with 'ane-half furlett of meill.'
M'Gillievoricdam got four ells of linen for his trouble, but, besides,
appropriated six and eightpence (Scots) of the money given to him to be
expended for poison; at other times, however, this person was
conciliated with 20s., a firlot of meal, five ells of linen, and 16s.
The brother of Lady Fowlis is also said to have promised to Thomas
M'Kane More M'Allan M'Evoch 'ane garmounthe of clais' (suit of clothes)
for his services in the same base plot.
From a review of this whole case, with others of the same date, it will
appear that the crimes of former times were distinguished from those of
the present day, not so much by the greater atrocity of any single act,
as by the length of time for which they were meditated, and the number
of persons admitted to a knowledge of them, without any fear of
disclosure. They were the offspring of habitual thought rather than the
effect of sudden starts of passion.
Immediately after the acquittal of Lady Fowlis, her step-son and
prosecutor, the seventeenth Baron of Fowlis, was presented at the bar on
an accusation in some respects similar, of which he also was found not
guilty, by a jury, the majority of whom had sat on the preceding trial.
In January, 1588-9, this gentleman being taken ill, sent a servant with
his own horse, to bring to his assistance Marion M'Ingarach, who is
characterised as being 'ane of the maist notorious and rank wichis in
all this realme,' and who, as soon as she entered the house where he lay
sick, gave him three drinks of water from three stones (probably rude
stone cups). After a long consultation, she declared there was no hope
of recovery, unless the principal man of the patient's house should
suffer death for him; and it was determined, after some discussion, that
this substitute should be George Monro, eldest son of Catharine Monro,
Lady Fowlis. A plan was next devised for transferring the _onus
moriendi_, for the present, to George; according to which, in the first
place, no person was to have admittance to the house in which Hector
lay, until his half-brother came; and on his arrival, the sick man, with
his left hand, was to take his visitor by the right, and not to speak
until spoken to by him. In conformity with these injunctions, several
friends, who called to inquire for the patient, were excluded, and
messengers were despatched, both to George Monro's house and to other
parts of the country, where he was thought to be engaged in the sports
of the chase. Before he could be found, seven expresses had been sent
after him, and five days expired. On the intelligence that his brother
desired earnestly to see him, he repaired to the place, and was received
in the form prescribed by the witch, Hector with his hand grasping
George's right, and abstaining from speaking until asked "how he did,"
to which he replied, "the better that you have come to visit me," and he
uttered not a word more, notwithstanding his urgency to obtain an
interview. The younger Monro having, in this manner, been brought fairly
within the compass of the witch's spells, she that night mustered
certain of her accomplices, and having provided spades, repaired to a
spot where two lairds' lands met, and, at 'ane after midnycht,' digged a
grave of the exact length of Hector Monro, and laid the turf of it
carefully aside. They then came home, and M'Ingarach gave her assistants
instructions concerning the part that each was to perform in the
remaining ceremonies. The object--namely, the preservation of Hector's
life and the death of George in his stead--being now openly stated, some
of those present objected, that if the latter should be cut off
suddenly, the hue and cry would be raised, and all their lives would be
in danger. They therefore pressed the presiding witch not to make the
sacrifice immediately, but to cause it to follow after such an interval
as might obviate suspicion, which she accordingly engaged to accomplish,
and warranted him to live till the 17th day of the ensuing April, at
least. This being arranged to the satisfaction of the persons assembled,
the sick man was laid in a pair of blankets, and carried out to the
place where the grave had been prepared. The party were strictly
enjoined to be silent, and only M'Ingarrach, and Christian Neill,
Hector's foster-mother, were to utter the necessary incantations. Being
come to the spot, their living burden was deposited in the grave, the
turf being spread over him, and held down with staves. M'Ingarrach stood
by the side of the grave, and Neill, holding a boy, a son of Hector
Leith, by the hand, ran the breadth of nine rings, then returned, and
demanded, 'which is your choice?' Thereupon the other replied, 'Mr.
Hector, I choose you to live, and your brother George to die for you.'
This form of conjuration was twice gone through that night; and, on its
completion, the sick man was lifted, carried home--not one of the
company uttering a word further--and replaced in bed.
To the efficacy of this spell was attributed not only the recovery of
Hector, but the death of George Monro, though the latter continued in
perfect health not only for the time warranted by the witch, but for a
year longer. He was taken ill in April, 1590, and died on the 3rd of
June following. M'Ingarrach was highly favoured by the gentleman who
supposed he owed to her his life. As soon as his health was restored,
'be the dewilisch moyan foirsaid,' he carried her to the house of his
uncle at Kilurmmody, where she was entertained with as much obsequious
attention as if she had been his spouse, and obtained such pre-eminence
in the country that no one durst offend her, though her ostensible
character was only that of keeper to his sheep. Upon the information of
Lady Fowlis, the protector of M'Ingarrach was compelled to present her
at Aberdeen, where she was examined before the king, and produced the
stones out of which she had made the baron drink. These enchanted cups
were delivered to the keeping of the justice clerk; but we are not
informed as to the fate of the witch herself.
The indictment charged the prisoner that 'ye gat yowr health be the
develisch means foirsaid.' And further, it said, 'ye are indicted for
art and part of the cruel, odious, and shameful slaughter of the said
George Monro, your brother, by the enchantments and witchcrafts used
upon him by you and of your devise, by speaking to him within youre bed,
taking of him by the right hand, conform to the injunctions given to you
by the said Marian Ingarrach, in the said month of January, 1589 years;
_throw the which inchantmentis he tuke are deidlie seiknets in the
moneth of Apryle, 1590 yetris, and continew and thairin until Junii
thairafter, diceissit in the said moneth of Junii, being the third day
of that instant_!'
JAMES HARDY VAUX,
TRANSPORTED FOR PRIVATELY STEALING.
The adventures of James Hardy Vaux are not inferior in interest to those
of the renowned Guzman d'Alfarache, or Lazarillo de Tormes, and like
those celebrated rogues, in order that the public may profit by his
example, he has given the world a narrative of his exploits, in which
philosophers may read the workings of an unprincipled conscience, the
legislator may discover the effect of the existing laws upon the mind of
a criminal, and by means of which the citizen may learn to detect the
frauds by which he is so constantly, and, but too frequently, so
successfully beset. So excellent a moral is to be derived from the
memoirs of this criminal, well written as they appear to be, that we
shall furnish the reader with occasional extracts from them, giving an
abridgment of those portions of them which present features of less
interest.
James Hardy Vaux was born at Guildford, in the county of Surrey, in the
year 1782, where his father, who was a foreigner, lived in the service
of a Mr. Sumner, as cook and house-steward. It appears that the mother
of this unfortunate man was born of highly respectable parents, her
father being a Mr. Lowe, a solicitor in London, and that her marriage
with her husband took place much against the wishes of her friends. In
1785, Mr. Lowe retired from business, and going to live in the country,
he took with him his little grandson, whom he treated with parental
fondness; sent him to school, and gave him a liberal education, such as
to qualify him for his own profession. Mrs. Vaux's first imprudence had
partially alienated the affections of her parents, and her subsequent
conduct did not tend to restore their good opinion. Young Vaux,
therefore, was entirely abandoned to the care of his grandfather and
grandmother, and he complains that his natural parents never treated him
with anything like a proper affection.
After six years' residence in the country, Mr. Lowe was prevailed upon
to live with his daughter and son-in-law, who had recently commenced the
hat business at Great Turnstile, Holborn. Young Vaux, being at this time
nine years old, was sent to a respectable boarding-school at Stockwell;
and after three years he returned to his grandfather, who had quitted,
in consequence of family disagreements, the house of his son-in-law, and
then resided in one of the squares. Mrs. Lowe's health declining, the
family removed to Wisbeach, Cambridgeshire, where they continued for
some time, and then returned to their original residence in Shropshire,
young Vaux being now fourteen years of age. Here he became acquainted
with the son of John Maultrie, Esq., a resident in the vicinity, and, on
that youth's removal to college, his father proposed to pay for Vaux to
accompany him; but his indecision and obstinacy rendered the proffered
kindness of no avail. The army or navy was his ambition; but, as his
grandfather would not consent to his entering either of these
professions, the desire was abandoned, and, after much hesitation, he
was ultimately bound an apprentice to Parker and Co. linen-drapers, at
Liverpool.
As this step may be called his first entrance into life, we will let him
speak for himself, as his conduct in his first situation clearly
indicates his character, while it forcibly reminds youth of the danger
they run in yielding to the first incentives to crime. "I was now," said
Hardy Vaux, "turned of fourteen; my health and constitution good, my
spirits elevated, and I felt all those pleasing sensations which
naturally arise in a youthful mind, happy in conscious innocence, and
flattered by the prospect of rising to honourable independence. The
gaiety and bustle of this beautiful and improving borough at once
charmed and amused me; I spent a week in viewing the public buildings,
the environs, &c.; but, above all, my admiration was excited by the
numerous and capacious docks, by which ships of large burden are
admitted, as it were, into the heart of the town, and discharge their
rich and varied cargoes with surprising facility, which are deposited in
spacious warehouses, of amazing extent, and from twelve to fourteen
stories high, with which these noble docks are nearly surrounded.
"The opportunities I had, during my residence in Liverpool, of viewing
the daily arrivals and sailings of merchant ships to and from all parts
of the world, particularly the Guineamen, which formed a remarkably fine
class of vessels, revived the latent desire I had for a seafaring life;
and I wanted but little incitement, had the smallest opportunity
offered, to take French leave of my masters, and gratify my rambling
propensity. However, the bustle in which I was continually involved, and
the new scenes of amusement which every succeeding day presented,
suppressed the inclination for a time; but that it was not totally
subdued will be seen hereafter. The establishment and economy of our
house were upon the most regular plan; the former consisted of six
apprentices (myself among the number), and four assistants at very
liberal stipends, besides, a nephew of the elder partner, who
superintended the whole and officiated in the counting-house; there were
also several porters and other subordinates, for all of whom full
employment was found. Being the junior apprentice, it was my province to
polish the counters, trim the lamps, carry out small parcels, and to
perform other inferior duties; when disengaged from which, I assisted in
waiting on retail customers and making myself otherwise useful behind
the counter. We had a plentiful table appropriated to us, to which we
retired in turn during the hours of business, commodious and airy
chambers, and, in short, we enjoyed every comfort we could desire. For
the first month of my probation I behaved extremely well, and by my
quickness and assiduity gained the good opinion of my employers, who
wrote of me in the most favourable terms to my friends in Shropshire;
nor did my expenses exceed my allowance for pocket-money, which was
fully adequate to every rational enjoyment.
"Among my fellow-apprentices was a young man named King, some years
older than myself, with whom, from a similarity of sentiment, I formed a
close intimacy. He was of an excellent disposition, but a great lover of
pleasure; and as his servitude was far advanced, and his prospects
peculiarly flattering, he was under very little restraint, but gave the
rein to his passion for dissipation. His expenses were profuse, but
whether he indulged in them at the expense of his probity I could never
ascertain. He soon introduced me to several young men of his own stamp,
and I became in a short time as great a rake as the best of them: nor
was our conversation confined to our own sex, scarcely a night passing
without our visiting one or other of those houses consecrated to the
Cyprian Goddess, with which the town of Liverpool abounds. In such a
course of life, it is not likely that I could submit to limited hours:
my companions and I seldom returned home before midnight, and sometimes
not until the ensuing morning. Though we took measures to keep this from
the ears of our employers, it could not fail to be known in time; and
the consequence was a strong but tender remonstrance on my imprudence,
which much affected me at the moment; but the impression was transitory
and soon effaced. I plunged deeper and deeper into the vortex of folly
and dissipation, until I was obliged to have recourse for advice to the
Ãsculapius of Gilead House. This irregular mode of life had borne hard
upon my finances, and I had not, as yet, had recourse to fraud or
peculation. I was liberally supplied by my relations on leaving
Shropshire, and had received my first quarterly allowance; but an event,
which soon followed, tempted me to the first breach of confidence and
integrity. I had in my youth been passionately fond of cocking, a sport
for which the county of Salop has been always famed; and, though so
young, I had constantly kept several cocks at walk, unknown to my
parents; so that I had acquired a considerable share of experience and
knowledge on the subject. One day, when I was sent with some muslins to
wait on a lady in the environs of Liverpool, near the canal, I
accidentally passed a cock-pit, where a great crowd was assembled; and I
understood that a grand main was about to commence. Elated at this
pleasing intelligence, I hastened to execute my commission; and
returning to the house, entered it, and, leaving my wrapper of goods in
the care of the landlady, I ascended to the pit, and took my seat. The
company was, as usual, of a motley description; but there were many
genteel persons. I ventured a few trifling bets at first with various
success; but at length an opportunity offering, which I considered as
next to a certainty, I laid the odds to a large amount, flattering
myself that, by this stroke of judgment, I should be enabled to figure
away with increased éclat among my gay companions. After I had so done,
greater odds were still vociferated; but in a moment the scene was
changed! the fallen cock, in the agonies of death, made a desperate
effort, and, rising for a moment, cut the throat of his antagonist, who
was standing over him, in the act of crowing with exultation on his
victory! The latter immediately fell, choked with the effusion of blood,
nor did the victor survive him many moments. The whole pit resounded
with acclamation, and the discord which ensued beggars description. I
was not the only sufferer by this revolution of fortune; many others had
laid higher odds than myself, and to a much greater amount. I was soon
surrounded by my creditors, to whom I disbursed every shilling I had
about me, among which were some pounds I had just received from the lady
for goods, and for which I had given her a receipt. I was still
something deficient, for which I pledged my honour to one of the
parties, giving my address, and promising payment on an early day. I now
returned home, filled with remorse and shame; but, as the first false
step of a young person insensibly leads to another, I added to my guilt
by concealing the affair from my employers, and directed them to book
the articles the lady had selected. I had a degree of false shame about
me, which rendered me incapable of confessing the truth and promising
amendment, or all might still have been well. In the evening I had
recourse to the bottle to drown my chagrin; and I determined to purloin
a certain sum every day, in the course of my attendance on retail
customers, until I had liquidated my debt of honour! Then I vowed to
stop and reform. Delusive idea! how little did I then know my own
weakness, or the futility of such resolutions in a young mind! And who,
that once begins a career of vice, can say to himself, "Thus far will I
go, and no farther?" After I had discharged my engagement I found a
small sum must be raised for pocket-money, and other exigencies, as it
would be above two months before I could expect a remittance.
"I therefore continued my peculation, and at length my evil genius
suggested to me, that I might, by venturing a small sum, become more
fortunate at the cock-pit, and repair the loss I had sustained; as
miracles don't happen every day, and the odds must win in the long run.
Thus I argued with myself; and, fatally for me, I tried the experiment.
"From this moment I never missed a day's fighting at the cock-pit; and
when sent on business which required my speedy return, I could not tear
myself from the spot, but frequently stayed out several hours, and,
afterwards forged a lie to account for my delay. I sometimes came off a
winner; but, as I was not then acquainted with the art of hedging, by
which the knowing ones commonly saved themselves, I was sure to be a
loser at every week's end. But I managed matters so well, that my
frequent secretions from the till were not discovered, however they
might be suspected. The extensive trade of the shop rendered it next to
impossible; and what I abstracted was a trifle compared to the gross
receipts of the day. My continued misconduct became now the subject of
frequent remonstrances on the part of Mr. Parker, the resident partner;
which not having had the desired effect, that gentleman wrote to my
friends, informing them in general terms that I had unhappily formed
improper connexions, and that my late levity of conduct rendered me
unfit to be received into their house; therefore desiring I might be
recalled without delay. Mr. Parker concluded with a remark, which I
shall never forget, and which was peculiarly gratifying to my
grandfather's (perhaps too partial) feelings: after expatiating on my
general capacity for business, he added, 'his smartness and activity are
really wonderful.' This letter produced a speedy answer, in consequence
of which I was directed to hasten my departure, which took place in a
few days, Mr. Parker giving me a great deal of wholesome advice at
parting; observing that although it was not in his power to charge me
with any direct criminality, my inconsiderate behaviour, and the
continued excesses of my conduct, left but too much room for
unfavourable conjectures.
"Behold me now returned to my grandfather, after an absence of nearly
five months; and this excursion may be called my first entrance into
life. I could not help blushing at the consciousness of my own
unworthiness; but the blind partiality of my dear parents induced them
to believe me less culpable than I really was, and to listen readily to
anything I had to offer in palliation of my errors."
Having now tasted the vicious cup of pleasure, Vaux found a village too
limited a sphere for his ambition, and resolved to try his fortune in
London. His grandfather, having many friends in his own profession, gave
him letters of introduction, which, on his arrival in the metropolis,
procured him a situation as copying clerk in a solicitor's office.
Resolving to be master of his own conduct, he did not visit the house of
his father, who by this time had tried many businesses, but was
unfortunate in all; but took private lodgings, and for three months
conducted himself with great propriety. But, getting acquainted with
several young persons of both sexes, he gradually gave way to
dissipation, visited the theatres, and became irregular in his
attendance at his office, in consequence of which he was formally
dismissed.
Finding it still necessary to have some employment, he procured, through
one of his dissipated companions, the son of a wealthy citizen, a
situation, as clerk in the warehouse of Messrs. Key and Sons, whole sale
stationers, in Abchurch Lane, Lombard Street, at a guinea a week. Here,
however, he continued but for a short time; for he could not endure a
confinement in the East End, so far from the resort of his old
acquaintances, who chiefly frequented Covent Garden and the purlieus of
Drury Lane.
"During an abode," says he, "of ten months in London, as I was
frequently pushed for money, I availed myself of a genteel appearance,
and pretty good address; and, taking advantage of the credulity of
several tradesmen in the neighbourhood, I ordered wearing apparel of
various kinds, and sometimes other goods, upon credit, without much
concern about the day of payment; however, I always took care to procure
a bill of parcels with the articles, which precluded any charge of
fraud, and left the matter, at the worst, but a debt contracted; for
which, being a minor, I knew I could not be arrested. This was my first
deviation from honesty since I left Liverpool. I was also frequently
obliged to change my lodgings; and, as payment of my rent would have
required ready money, for which I had so many other uses, I commonly
decamped under favour of the night, having previously removed my effects
by various stratagems. As I was ashamed to let my grandfather know the
true state of my affairs, and as I really grieved at the expenses I had
already caused him, which I knew had much inconvenienced him, I forbore
at last to trouble him for remittances; but falsely assured him that I
was doing well, and enabled to live upon the profits of my industry. I
desired he would abandon the idea of articling me to the law, as the
expenses attending admission had of late years been so much increased by
stamp duties; and as I could, if I continued the study, at a future
period, practise under the sanction of another person's name; a custom
then very prevalent, though irregular. By these assurances I quieted the
good old man, and silenced any inquiries my friends might have
instituted respecting me; as I now really wished to continue free from
all restraint upon my person or actions, and foolishly flattered myself
that I should, by some lucky event, ultimately secure the means of
independence. These conjectures were, however, perfectly vague, and
proceeding from no fixed idea whatever.
"On quitting my city employment, I returned to the law, for which I
still retained a partiality; and obtained a more liberal salary than
before in an office equally respectable. Indeed I was now become more
useful, and had improved much, both in person and address, since my
arrival in town.
"I was still frequently reduced to pecuniary straits, and obliged to
have recourse to various expedients, known only to men of the town, for
my support: some of them, indeed, were bordering on dishonesty, and none
of them very honourable. But to describe them individually is
impossible; and a man who lives by his wits, as the phrase is, will
assure you, if called to account, that he really could not for his life
tell by what distinct means he makes out a living.
"As I now wrote uncommonly fast, I quitted the station of a weekly
clerk, and obtained writings to copy by the sheet, from the
law-stationers, by which I could earn considerably more money; and in
this employment I continued to labour diligently for several hours every
day, and sometimes half the night.
"When I had a mind to relax from this occupation, and particularly if my
finances were at a low ebb, I frequently resorted to the Blue Lion, in
Gray's Inn Lane, a house noted for selling fine ale, and crowded every
night by a motley assemblage of visitors, among whom were many thieves,
sharpers, and other desperate characters, with their doxies. I was
introduced to this house (from which hundreds of young persons may date
their ruin) by a fellow-clerk, who appeared to have a personal intimacy
with most of these obnoxious persons; however, though I listened eagerly
to their conversation, (part of which was then unintelligible to me,)
and fancied them people of uncommon spirit, I was not yet sufficiently
depraved to cultivate their acquaintance; but sat with a pipe in my
mouth, enveloped in smoke, ruminating, like a philosopher, on the
various characters who tread the great stage of life, and felt a sort of
secret presentiment that I was myself born to undergo a more than common
share of vicissitudes and disappointments."
During his nightly resort to the Blue Lion he became acquainted with a
young man named D----, who had been steward on board a king's ship, but
who had spent all his money, and had now resolved to go to Portsmouth,
in the hope of procuring a situation similar to the one he had left.
Vaux, naturally inconstant, determined on accompanying him; and, having
converted most of their clothes into money, they set off on foot; but
had not proceeded farther than Kingston when their cash became
exhausted, and they owed a trifle to the mistress of the Eight Bells.
"In this dilemma," says Vaux, "a sudden thought struck me. Calling for
pen, ink, and paper, I told my companion I had a scheme in my head for
raising a supply, but would not impart it until I had tried its success.
I then drew up a sort of memorial to the following effect:--'To the
Ladies and Gentlemen of Kingston.--The writer hereof, a young man of
respectable family, and good education, having, by a series of
misfortunes, been reduced to the greatest distress, is now on his way to
Portsmouth, in hopes of procuring a situation in the navy; but, being
destitute of money for his present support, humbly solicits your
charitable assistance towards enabling him to pursue his journey. To a
noble mind, the pleasure of doing a good action is its own reward. The
smallest donation will be gratefully received, and any lady or gentleman
inclined to relieve the writer is earnestly requested to subscribe his
or her name hereto.'--Having completed this production, I desired my
friend to wait patiently for my return, and assured him I doubted not of
bringing speedy relief. I now set out on my expedition, and immediately
waited on Mr. Mayor, who was a grocer; but in this first essay I was
unsuccessful. His worship declared he never encouraged applications of
this sort from strangers; and desired me to go about my business. I,
however, took the liberty of subscribing his name to my memorial, by way
of sanction, and gave his charity credit for a donation of five
shillings. Young as I was at that time, I well knew that example, in
matters of this kind, goes a great way; and that many persons, without a
grain of Christian benevolence in their composition, will give liberally
from motives of ostentation, when they see that their neighbours have
already contributed, and that their own names and donations will also be
made public. I experienced the truth of this notion, for I was
successful in almost every application I afterwards made. Having visited
a number of genteel houses, with various success, I was on the point of
returning, to impart my good luck to my companion, when, coming to a
very handsome mansion-house in the suburbs of the town, I thought I
ought not to omit calling, and a person at that moment passing by, I
inquired whose residence it was, and which was the entrance to the
premises; for the house was situated in the midst of a spacious
pleasure-ground, remote from the high road, and, it being quite dusk, I
had not observed any avenue by which I could gain access to it. I was
informed that it was the residence of Lady W----; that a little further
on I should perceive a door in the brick wall, which extended along the
road-side; and that if I entered at that door, and proceeded in a
straight direction, I should arrive at the servants' hall; but my
informer cautioned me to keep close to another wall on my left hand,
which divided this avenue from the lawn in front of the mansion, because
there was a very large and fierce dog at the upper end, but which, being
chained up, could not reach me, if I followed the above directions. I
thanked this obliging person, and immediately proceeded to the door
described, which I entered, and walked cautiously, and not without some
fear, by the wall-side, till I perceived, by the lights in the kitchen
and out-offices, that I was near the premises.
"It was now very dark, and I was carefully exploring my way, my mind
full of apprehensions at the thought of this terrible dog; when lo! at
that instant, to my inexpressible consternation, the ferocious animal
made a spring at me, and I gave myself up for dead. However, though he
was certainly within a yard of me, he did me no mischief; but my alarm
was so great, that, without knowing how or where to fly for refuge, I
ran precipitately from the spot; and, when I recovered myself from the
fright, found myself in the pleasure-ground in front of the
mansion-house. It appeared that I had, without knowing, escaped through
a door in the wall, which was open on my left hand at the moment I was
alarmed by the dog. I was now more at a loss than ever, for I knew of no
way to get out of the pleasure-ground except by the aforesaid door, and
fear of the dog prevented my attempting that passage. After wandering
about for a few minutes, I approached the mansion, and, going up to one
of the parlour windows, which were very large, and on a level with the
terrace before the house, I applied my eye to the glass, and discovered,
through an aperture in the inside shutters, a numerous and splendid
party of ladies and gentlemen at dinner. Having considered a moment, I
determined on a very bold step, as I saw no alternative but remaining
all night in the open air, exposed to the inclemency of the weather.
Taking advantage of a pause in the company's conversation, I tapped with
my finger at the window, and immediately the whole party were struck
with wonder. In the midst of their surprise I repeated my knock; and
then, after several voices exclaiming 'Good God! there is certainly
somebody at the window,' &c. a gentleman rose from the table, and,
advancing towards me, opened first the shutters, and then the window
itself, which might, in fact, be called a pair of folding-doors; and
these being thrown back, I walked in with the most respectful air I
could assume, and presented myself to the astonished company. Having
bowed twice or thrice, and given time for their alarm to subside, I
began to make my speech.
"Apologizing for my presumptuous intrusion, I stated in a concise manner
the fright I had endured from the dog, my embarrassment at not being
able to find means of egress from the pleasure-ground, and my having
consequently taken the liberty of knocking at the window. I then
presented my memorial, which was read in turn by most of the company,
each of whom surveyed me with evident surprise. Having answered such
queries as they thought proper to put to me, I was desired by the lady
of the house to withdraw to the kitchen for a short time; and a servant
was ordered to attend me thither. Here I had my story to repeat for the
information of the domestics, who laughed heartily at the adventure of
the dog, but afterwards seriously assured me that, had the animal not
been chained, or had I approached within his reach, he would inevitably
have torn me to pieces. The parlour dinner being over, and the dishes
brought out, I was desired to fall to; and, being really hungry, I
wanted no pressing, but selected from the variety of good things on the
table a very fine buttock of beef, on which substantial fare I made a
sumptuous meal. There was no scarcity of good malt liquor, and Lady
W---- very kindly sent me out a pint of red port, with a particular
injunction (which, by-the-by, was unnecessary) that I should eat and
drink heartily.
"At length I was summoned to attend the company in the parlour; and her
ladyship then expressing her concern for my misfortunes, and her anxious
hope that I should speedily find an end to them, presented me with half
a guinea. The rest of the party also said many handsome things, and the
majority of them contributed to my relief. In addition to these favours,
one of the gentlemen at the particular request of Lady W----, took the
trouble to write a letter in my behalf to the captain of a man-of-war,
supposed to be then lying at Portsmouth, entreating him to give me an
appointment under him. Her ladyship, after obliging me to take another
glass of wine, and repeating her sorrow for my distress, advised me to
lose no time in prosecuting my journey, ordered a servant to conduct me
to the door at which I had first entered her premises, and I took a
respectful leave of this truly benevolent party.
"Returning to the Eight Bells, I imparted my adventures to my friend,
who was, of course, much pleased at my success; for I had realised
between four and five pounds. I found this begging scheme so productive,
that I was in no hurry to pursue the Portsmouth speculation; and, as we
were both satisfied with our present quarters, it was agreed that we
should continue a few days longer in Kingston, in which time I proposed
to follow up my success by making a regular circuit among the
inhabitants, and I, in fact, determined to levy similar contributions in
every town which lay in our route.
"It is to be observed that this idea of raising money was perfectly
original in me, for at that time I had never heard of such a practice,
but have since discovered that it is a very common expedient, and is
called by those persons who live by such impositions, 'the _Letter
Racket_.'
"The following day I again sallied forth and met with equal success,
visiting not only the houses of private persons, but even the
respectable shopkeepers, &c.; and I may here state, once for all, that
in the course of this as well as my subsequent speculations of the same
nature, I met with various receptions according to the charitable or
churlish dispositions of the people to whom I applied. Many pitied my
case and cheerfully relieved me. Others expressed equal commiseration,
but declined giving anything, either because 'they never encouraged
beggars,' or 'they had poor enough of their own to maintain.' Some
invited me into their parlours, treated me with excessive politeness,
and obliged me to take refreshment at their own tables; and where there
were any young ladies in the family, I was an object of particular
solicitude, and the recital of my misfortunes drew many a sigh from
their tender bosoms. Others desired me like the Mayor of Kingston to go
about my business, and hinted that I ought to be sent to the house of
correction as a vagrant. Sometimes the servants who admitted me refused
to present my memorial, declaring that they had strict orders from their
masters or mistresses never to trouble them on such an occasion. The
donations I commonly received were from one shilling to five; sometimes,
but rarely, I was presented with gold, particularly at the seats of the
nobility and gentry; all which lying within a short distance of the road
I travelled, I made a point of calling at; and for my information on
this subject, I provided myself with a comprehensive 'Book of Roads,' in
which those objects are correctly laid down. Some truly charitable
persons, but whose means were limited, relieved me with sixpence, and of
course I was bound to accept such a trifle with as much appearance of
thankfulness as I would a larger sum; and frequently when I called at a
farm-house by the road side, I have been compelled to take some cold
meat or other eatables, which I afterwards bestowed upon the first more
needy beggar I met on my way. It was my custom in general to travel on
foot, making short stages, and putting up at a good inn in every town I
entered, where I lived upon the best during my stay, and associated with
London riders, and other respectable guests. When tired of walking. I
availed myself of a passing stage-coach or return post-chaise; and my
only equipage was a spare shirt, handkerchief, &c. which, with my 'Book
of Roads,' I carried in a small bundle under my arm."
On the evening of the second day, however, he was arrested and carried
before the magistrates, charged as a rogue and vagabond. He referred the
magistrates to one of his grandfather's friends in London; and the
inquiries there satisfying them, he was discharged out of custody on the
second day of confinement, and hastened back to town, his companion
having proceeded to Portsmouth. After spending one dissipated evening in
London, he set out next day to Portsmouth; and, notwithstanding the
check he had received three days earlier, he stopped in Kingston, and
levied contributions, in the usual way, on the charitable inhabitants,
avoiding, of course, that part of the town where he had been before.
This practice he continued on the road, and after the payment of his
expenses he still had 15_l._ in his pocket. On his reaching Portsmouth,
his fervour for the navy cooled on his finding that his friend D---- had
procured a situation as a merchant's clerk, and he was, after some time,
induced to enter into the service of an attorney. A short employment was
quite sufficient to satisfy his industrious fit, and he soon quitted
Portsmouth in disgust, and proceeded once more towards the great
metropolis. There his good fortune threw before him an opportunity,
which steadiness on his part only required to render most advantageous.
Dining one day at the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill, he entered into
conversation with a gentleman named Kennedy, a surgeon in the navy, who,
pleased with his manner and address, procured for him an appointment as
midshipman on board the Astrea frigate. Delighted with the prospect of
at length entering the navy, he wrote to his grandfather, who
immediately furnished him with 100_l._ to purchase an outfit. On the
voyage he became weary of his position as a midshipman, and the captain
being in want of a clerk, he tendered his services and was accepted. At
the conclusion of a long cruise in the northern latitudes, the vessel
made for England; and on their arrival in the Thames, Vaux proceeded to
London. He there met with a dashing Cyprian, and unmindful of the
future, he remained with her until all his money was spent; and then he
found that his vessel had sailed, carrying with her his clothes, books,
and all the little property of which he was possessed. Now, driven to
the greatest distress, he had recourse to the gaming-table, where for a
short time he contrived, by associating with professed gamblers, to
procure a precarious existence. But the summer approaching and dupes
becoming fewer, he obtained by application to Messrs. Dalton and
Edwards, King's Bench Walk, a situation as clerk at one pound a week,
with Mr. Dalton, a solicitor, of Bury St. Edmund's. "Upon the whole,"
says he, "this was one of the most agreeable employments I ever engaged
in; and, had I prudently retained it for a few years, there is no doubt
I should have met with the most liberal encouragement from my employer.
But my natural inconstancy still prevailed; and I had been but a few
weeks at Bury, before I grew tired of the country, and thought of
nothing but returning to London, with such spoil as I could obtain from
the credulity of the tradesmen in the town. With this view I bespoke
clothes, boots, linen, and other articles at various shops, informing
the parties that I should expect credit till the expiration of my
quarter, to which, on account of the respectable gentleman I served,
they readily consented. As soon as any of these goods were brought home,
I immediately packed them up in small portable parcels, which I sent up
to London by the coach, consigned to a pawnbroker with whom I was on
intimate terms; desiring him to receive and keep them safe until he saw
me. I also coached off, in the same clandestine manner, such of my own
apparel, &c. as I had in my trunk, in which, to prevent discovery, I
deposited stones or bricks to preserve its gravity. By these means I had
nothing to impede my sudden departure, when rendered necessary by the
arrival of the expected quarter-day.
"I must here observe, to meet any surprise the reader might feel on the
subject, that, as I had never at this time been connected with downright
thieves, so I had never yet committed an actual theft, save the
embezzlement of money at Liverpool; (which indeed the law has lately
made a felonious taking;) though I therefore scrupled not at practising
a fraud, I was not yet sufficiently depraved to commit a robbery. This
will account for my not robbing the premises of Mr. Dalton, which, at a
subsequent period of my life, would have been my primary object, as I
had access to every part of the house, and have frequently viewed with
longing eyes the servant cleaning a handsome service of plate in the
pantry.
"I had now been about two months at Bury, and had no intention of
absconding till the expiration of the third; when an accidental event
induced me to hasten my departure. One afternoon Mr. Dalton had written
several letters in the office, and the footman being elsewhere engaged,
he requested me to drop them in the post-office in my way home. I
accordingly brought them out in my hand, and happening inadvertently to
cast my eye on the superscriptions, I perceived that one was addressed
to Mr. Lyne, tailor, Cecil Street, Strand, London. Being curious to know
what correspondence Mr. Dalton could have with a tailor, I opened this
letter, and found the contents to the following effect:--'Mr. Lyne,--By
the waggon which goes from hence on Monday next, and arrives at the Blue
Boar in Bishopsgate Street on Wednesday night, I shall send you a
portmanteau corded and sealed, but not locked, containing two coats,
sixteen waistcoats, fourteen pair of breeches, and a suit of uniform of
the City Light Horse. Most of these articles are nearly as good as new;
but, as they have now become unfashionable, I desire you will dispose of
them to the best advantage, on my account, and send me down by the same
conveyance two suits made in the present taste,' &c.
"It immediately struck me, that, if I took measures accordingly, I might
arrive in town time enough to intercept and obtain this trunk from the
inn; for which purpose I put this letter in my pocket, and the others in
the post-office. The next day, happening to go into Mr. Dalton's
kitchen, I there saw the portmanteau corded up, and directed; and, on
questioning the servant in a careless manner about it, he informed me
that he was going to carry it to the inn, the following evening, in
readiness for the departure of the waggon. The same afternoon it
happened (which was a most fortunate circumstance for me) that Mr.
Dalton again begged of me to put some letters in the post-office, which
he had not done above twice or thrice since I came into his service.
Looking at these letters, I saw, to my surprise, another addressed to
Mr. Lyne as before, which, eagerly opening, I found was to mention
something Mr. Dalton said he had forgot in his letter of the preceding
day. I immediately destroyed this second letter, which, had it come to
hand, might have frustrated my design.
"I now prepared matters for eloping, and sent off the remainder of my
effects by the coach, as before; but my good fortune produced another
windfall, of which I had no expectation. The day before my intended
departure, I was walking in the Market-place with a young man, who was
clerk to another attorney in the town; and, the conversation turning
upon watches, my companion observed that, if I wished to purchase one,
he would introduce me to a maker of his acquaintance, who would use me
well on his account. I took him at his word, and begged he would
immediately do so. We were then within a few doors of the shop, into
which we entered; and I perceived over the window in large characters,
'Lumley and Gudgeon, watchmakers.' I laughed inwardly at the singularity
of the latter name, which I considered ominous of my success in the
imposition I meant to put upon him. After a short preliminary
conversation, my acquaintance, having business to do, took his leave,
and Mr. Gudgeon himself proceeded to show me several watches. I informed
him that I wished to have a good one, but my circumstances would not
allow me to go to a high price. Mr. Gudgeon assured me it was better to
have a good one at once, and recommended me to a very handsome gilt
watch, capped and jewelled, and his own make, which he said he could
warrant to perform well, and for which he asked me eight guineas. I
replied that, as my weekly salary from Mr. Dalton was but one pound, I
could not afford to give so much, and began to examine others of a
cheaper kind, but still letting him see that I had a strong inclination
for the one he had recommended. This induced him to repeat his praises
of the latter, and to press me with greater energy to fix upon it. I at
length (with a show of much reluctance) suffered myself to be persuaded;
but I begged leave to observe, that as I was influenced in everything by
the advice of my good master, Mr. Dalton, I would not venture to make so
extensive a purchase without his approbation: that, if he would
therefore entrust me with the watch, I would consult Mr. Dalton, and
give him (Mr. Gudgeon) a decisive answer the next morning: this he
declared himself willing to do, on which I took both the watch and my
leave together, and returned home.
"The next morning I attended the office as usual, but of course took no
notice to Mr. Dalton of the affair in hand. During the space of time I
allotted myself for dinner, I again called on Mr. Gudgeon, and told him
that I would keep the watch, provided he should receive the payment by
instalments, as I could not afford to pay the whole price at once. I
therefore proposed to give him the ensuing Saturday one or two guineas,
as I should find most convenient, and to pay him half-a-guinea a week
afterwards, until the whole was liquidated. To this he readily agreed,
and, having fitted a key to the watch, he begged leave to show me some
chains and seals. Of the former he had none but gilt ones: I selected
one of the neatest, and a handsome gold seal. I then desired to have a
bill of parcels of the whole, observing that, whenever I paid a sum upon
account, Mr. Gudgeon could make a memorandum of it at the bottom by way
of receipt. Having obtained this, I departed, promising to be punctual
in paying my first instalment on the day appointed. This took place on
Tuesday, the portmanteau being now on its way to London; and the same
evening I quitted my lodgings privately, leaving nothing behind but a
trunk, containing brick-bats and stones, and walked by moonlight to a
village four miles distant, through which the stage-coach was to pass
next morning at seven o'clock. I procured some supper at a decent
public-house, and retired to rest, desiring to be called in time for the
coach. At the expected hour the stage made its appearance, in which I
seated myself, and about eight the same evening arrived at the Blue
Boar, just two hours after the waggon, which I perceived standing in the
yard."
He received the portmanteau with little difficulty, and having disposed
of its contents in various ways, lived upon the produce for five or six
weeks, at the termination of which he thought it right to look out for a
new situation. He found one in the office of Mr. Preston, solicitor; and
with the imprudence of dishonest persons, entered upon it, though the
office was next door to Dalton and Edwards, who had sent him down to
Bury St. Edmund's. He was soon recognised by a clerk of Messrs. Dalton
and Edwards, and, being called into the parlour by Mr. Preston one
morning, he was surprised at seeing his late master, who snatched the
watch out of his fob, and promised to restore it to the owner. Vaux was
then taken into custody; but a friend of his grandfather having come
forward, and indemnified Mr. Dalton for his loss, he was suffered to go
at large, on a promise that he would quit London, where he was likely to
come to disgrace and infamy, and endeavour to obtain employment in the
country.
The country had no charms for him, however, and he set about procuring a
situation in some retail shop in town, for the sole purpose of
embezzling the receipts. In consequence of an advertisement in a
newspaper, he applied to a Mr. Gifford, the keeper of a masquerade
warehouse, and there he obtained employment upon a forged representation
of his good character. He did not fail at this place in collecting a
good booty, and having at length, by means of stealing goods from the
shop, and embezzling money which he had received on his master's
account, secured about sixty pounds' worth of property, he suddenly
absconded and commenced a round of dissipation and gaiety. He had been
at large scarcely a fortnight, however, before he was taken into custody
at the instance of his late master, and upon his prosecution was
committed to the quarter sessions, but there his good fortune aided him,
and in consequence of some informality in the proceedings, he was
acquitted.
Upon a second appearance at the same bar he was not quite so successful;
and it appears that having been detected in the act of picking pockets
with a companion named Bromley, they were both secured, and having been
convicted, they were on the 23rd September, 1800, sentenced to seven
years' transportation. Vaux was sent to Port Jackson in the following
May, and there he was assigned to a Mr. Baker, a storekeeper at
Hawkesbury, about twenty-six miles from Paramatta, who appointed him his
clerk. In consequence of his good conduct during the ensuing three
years, he was promoted to a place in the secretary's office, in Sydney,
but there, conspiring with his fellows, in the commission of various
frauds, he was discovered and sentenced to be worked in a road-gang.
During two months he continued in Sydney in this degraded condition, but
then he was drafted to Castle Hill, a plantation twenty-four miles in
the interior, and there, after about ten months' service, he was
appointed clerk to the superintendant of the works. Having subsequently
served the office of clerk to the magistrates at Paramatta, he at
length, on the 10th February, 1807, returned to England. There he found
a woeful change had taken place, his father and his grandmother being
dead; and all served to remind him of the sinful course of life he had
led, and of his fallen condition. All his resolutions against returning
to a dishonest mode of living were however unavailing, and at length he
became a professed and a professional thief. In order the better to
carry on his new trade, he associated himself with some fellows of
dissolute habits, but at length meeting with his old friend Bromley, he
resolved to quit his new companions and to pursue his avocation with one
accomplice only.
In reference to his future proceedings he says, "Having withdrawn myself
from my late companions, I now became very circumspect in my
proceedings; and as Bromley had neither the appearance nor the manners
of a gentleman, I only made use of him occasionally in the course of my
practice, keeping him in the back-ground to receive and carry any
articles which I purloined, and never suffering him to converse with or
approach me, except in private. I generally spent the mornings, that is
from about one to five o'clock P.M. (which are the fashionable hours for
shopping) in visiting the shops of jewellers, watchmakers, pawnbrokers,
&c. Having conceived hopes that this species of robbery would turn to a
good account, and depending upon my own address and appearance, I
determined to make a circuit of the town, and not to omit a single shop
in either of those branches; and this scheme I actually executed so
fully, that I believe I did not leave ten shops untried in all London,
for I made a point of commencing every day in a certain street, and
going regularly through it on both sides of the way. My practice was to
enter a shop and request to look at gold seals, chains, brooches, rings,
or any other small articles of value; and, while examining them, and
looking the shopkeeper in the face, I contrived by sleight of hand to
conceal two or three (sometimes more) in the sleeve of my coat, which
was purposely made wide. On some occasions I purchased a trifling
article to save appearances; at other times I took a card of the shop,
promising to call again; and, as I generally saw the remaining goods
returned to the window, or place from whence they were taken, before I
left the shop, there was hardly a probability of my being suspected, or
of the property being missed. In the course of my career I was never
once detected in the fact, though, on two or three occasions so much
suspicion arose, that I was obliged to exert all my effrontery and to
use very high language, in order, as the cant phrase is, to _bounce_ the
tradesman _out of it_; and my fashionable appearance, and affected anger
at his insinuations, had always the effect of convincing him that he was
mistaken, and inducing him to apologise for the affront put upon me. I
have even sometimes carried away the spoil notwithstanding what had
passed; and I have often gone a second and third time to the same shop,
with as good success as at the first. To prevent accidents, however, I
made it a rule never to enter a second shop with any stolen property
about me; for, as soon as I quitted the first, I privately conveyed my
booty to Bromley, who was attending my motions in the street, and herein
I found him eminently useful. By this course of depredation I acquired
on the average about ten pounds a week, though I sometimes neglected
shopping for several days together. This was not, indeed, the only
pursuit I followed, but was my principal morning's occupation; though,
if a favourable opportunity offered of getting a guinea by any other
means, I never let it slip. In the evenings I generally attended one of
the theatres, where I mixed with the best company in the boxes, and, at
the same time that I enjoyed the amusements of the place, I frequently
conveyed pocket-books, snuff-boxes, and other portable articles, from
the pockets of their proprietors into my own. Here I found the
inconvenience of wanting a suitable companion, who might have received
the articles I made prize of, in the same manner as Bromley did in the
streets; but though I knew many of the light-fingered gentry, whose
appearance fitted them for my company, yet, their faces being well known
to the police-officers, who attended the theatres, they would not have
been suffered to enter the house: and herein I possessed an advantage
which many of these gentry envied me; for being just arrived in England,
and a new face upon the town, I carried on my depredations under the
very noses of the officers without suspicion. Having, therefore, at
first no associate, I was obliged to quit the theatre, and conceal my
first booty in some private spot, before I could make (with prudence) a
second attempt. Upon the whole, I was very successful in this pursuit
also, at least as to the _number_ of articles I filched; and had their
_value_ been reasonably proportionate to what I expected, I need not
long have followed so hazardous an employment. I have very frequently
obtained nine or ten pocket-books, besides other articles in an evening;
and, these being taken from gentlemen evidently of fortune and fashion,
I had reason to expect I should some time meet with a handsome sum in
bank-notes: but fortune did not favour me therein, for, during near
twelve months' almost nightly attendance at one or other of the public
places, I never found more than twenty pounds in a book, and that only
on one occasion. I several times got five, ten, or eleven pounds, but
commonly one, two, or three pounds; and most generally four books out of
five contained nothing but letters, memorandums, and other papers
useless to me. At the same time I knew frequent instances of the common
street pickpockets getting a booty of fifty, one hundred, and sometimes
three or four hundred pounds. However, I never failed to pay the
expenses of the night; and if I gained nothing, I enjoyed at least a
fund of amusement, which was to me the highest gratification. It
sometimes happened that the articles I got (particularly pocket-books)
were advertised by the losers, within a few days, as "Lost," and a
reward offered for their restoration: where this reward was worth
notice, I frequently restored the property by means of a third person
whom I could confide in, and whom I previously tutored for the purpose.
"In the mean time, the manner in which I spent my life, abstracted from
the disgraceful means by which I supported myself, was (as I have
formerly hinted) perfectly regular and inoffensive. Though I lived by
depredation, yet I did not, like the abandoned class of common thieves,
waste my money and leisure time in profligate debauchery, but applied
myself to the perusal of instructive and amusing books, my stock of
which I daily increased. I occupied genteel apartments in a creditable
house, the landlord of which understood me to hold a situation under
government; and every part of my conduct at home tended to confirm his
opinion of my respectability. I was scrupulously exact in paying my
rent, as well as the different tradesmen in the neighbourhood with whom
I had occasion to deal; nor did I ever suffer any person of loose
character to visit me, but studiously concealed from those of my
acquaintance my place of residence. I was sometimes, indeed, so
imprudent as to resort, for company's sake, to some of those
public-houses frequented by thieves and other dissolute characters, the
landlord of which is himself commonly an experienced thief, or returned
transport. When I had a mind to relax a little, or grew tired of
domestication, I disguised my appearance as much as I could, and
repaired to a house of this description, sometimes taking my Dulcinea
with me, whom I shall shortly introduce to the reader, and whose person
and dress I was not a little proud of exhibiting in public. This
fondness for flash-houses, as they are termed, is the rock on which most
persons who live by depredation unhappily split, and will be found in
the sequel to have brought me to my present deplorable condition; for
the police-officers, or traps, are in the daily habit of visiting these
houses, where they drink with the thieves, &c., in the most familiar
manner; and, I believe, often obtain secret information by various means
from some parties respecting the names, characters, pursuits, &c., of
others. By this imprudent conduct I also became personally known to many
of the officers, which was productive of great danger to me in the
exercise of my vocation; whereas, had I avoided such houses, I might
have remained unknown and unsuspected by them for a series of years."
The Dulcinea alluded to above was an unhappy girl of the town, whom he
took into keeping, and afterwards married. This poor creature behaved to
him in the most exemplary manner, and proved by her conduct that she was
worthy of a better fate.
Going one day to a public meeting at the Mermaid Tavern, Hackney, he
picked a gentleman's pocket of a silver snuff-box, which he handed to
the landlady. The box was missed by the owner, and on Vaux claiming it,
he was taken into custody; but such is the glorious uncertainty of the
law, that he was acquitted on his trial, contrary to his own
expectation.
"The next adventure," says Vaux, "I shall have occasion to relate, more
fully confirms the justice of the remark, that the connexions formed by
persons during temporary confinement in a gaol commonly lead to further
acts of wickedness, and frequently entail on the parties a more severe
[Illustration: _The Flash Ken._
_P. 486_]
punishment than that which they have just escaped. This was exactly my
unhappy case, and I now come to the most fatal era of my eventful life.
"In the same ward with myself were confined two brothers, very genteel
young men, who had been recently cast for death for privately stealing
some valuable rings, &c., from the shop of a jeweller in Leadenhall
Street. As a conformity of character, or similarity of pursuits, is the
strongest source of friendship, so these persons and myself had become
very intimately acquainted. In the course of our frequent conversations
on the subject with which we were all three alike most conversant, the
brothers informed me that they had, like myself, made a successful tour
of the jewellers' shops in London: and on our comparing notes as to the
particular persons we had robbed, or attempted to rob, they pointed out
about half-a-dozen shops, which, it appeared, I had omitted to visit,
arising either from their making no display of their goods, or from
their being situated in private streets, where I had no idea of finding
any such trades. Though at that time neither they nor myself entertained
much hope of my acquittal, it was agreed that, in the event of my being
so fortunate as to recover my freedom, I should pay my respects to the
several tradesmen I had so overlooked; and I promised, in case I was
successful, to make them a pecuniary acknowledgment in return for their
information. At the moment of my joyful departure from Newgate, they
accordingly furnished me with a list of the shops in question, and gave
me full instructions and useful hints for my guidance therein. They
particularly pointed out a Mr. Bilger, a goldsmith and jeweller of the
first eminence in Piccadilly. This gentleman, they assured me, I should
find, in the technical phrase, a _good flat_. They advised me to bespeak
a diamond ring, or similar article, and to request a sight of some loose
diamonds, for the purpose of selecting such stones as I might wish to
have set, informing me that he was generally provided with a large
quantity, which he would not fail to show me, and that I might with ease
purloin a good number of them. A day or two after my release I made the
prescribed experiments, and was fortunate enough to succeed pretty well
at nearly every shop; but I reserved Mr. Bilger for my final essay, as
he was the principal object of consideration, and from whom I expected
to obtain the most valuable booty. On the day se'nnight after my trial
at the Old Bailey, I prepared in due form to pay him a visit. About five
o'clock in the evening I entered his shop, dressed in the most elegant
style, having a valuable gold watch and appendages, a gold eye-glass,
&c. I had posted my old friend and aid-de-camp, Bromley, at the door, in
order to be in readiness to act as circumstances might require, and
particularly to watch the motions of Mr. Bilger and his assistants on my
quitting the premises. On my entrance Mrs. Bilger issued from a back
parlour behind the shop, and, politely inquiring my business, I told her
I wished to see Mr. Bilger; she immediately rang a bell, which brought
down her husband from the upper apartments. He saluted me with a low
bow, and handed me a seat. I was glad to find no other person in the
shop, Mrs. Bilger having again retired. I now assumed the air of a Bond
Street lounger, and informed Mr. Bilger that I had been recommended by a
gentleman of my acquaintance to deal with him, having occasion for a
very elegant diamond ring, and requested to see his assortment. Mr.
Bilger expressed his concern that he happened not to have a single
article of that description by him, but, if I could without
inconvenience call again, he would undertake in one hour to procure me a
selection from his working jeweller, to whom he would immediately
despatch a messenger. I affected to feel somewhat disappointed, but
looking at my watch, after a moment's reflection, I said, 'Well, Mr.
Bilger, I have an appointment at the Cannon Coffee-house, which requires
my attendance, and if you will without fail have the articles ready, I
may probably look in a little after six.' This he promised faithfully to
do, declaring how much he felt obliged by my condescension; and I
sauntered out of the shop, Mr. Bilger attending me in the most
obsequious manner to the outer door. After walking a short distance,
Bromley tapped me on the shoulder, and inquired what conduct I meant
next to pursue; for he had viewed my proceedings through a glass-door in
the shop, and saw that I had not executed my grand design. I related to
Bromley the result of my conversation with Mr. Bilger, and added that I
meant to retire to the nearest public-house, where we could enjoy a pipe
and a glass of negus until the expiration of the hour, to which I had
limited myself. We accordingly regaled ourselves at a very snug house,
nearly opposite Bilger's, until about half-past six, when I again
repaired to the scene of action, leaving Bromley, as at first, posted at
the door. Mr. Bilger received me with increased respect, and, producing
a small card box, expressed his sorrow that his workmen had only been
enabled to send three rings for my inspection; but that, if they were
not to my taste, he should feel honoured and obliged in taking my
directions for having one made, and flattered himself he should execute
the order to my satisfaction. I proceeded to examine the rings he
produced, one of which was marked sixteen guineas, another nine guineas,
and the third six guineas. They were all extremely beautiful; but I
affected to consider them as too paltry, telling Mr. Bilger that I
wanted one to present to a lady, and that I wished to have a ring of
greater value than the whole three put together, as a few guineas would
not be an object in the price. Mr. Bilger's son, who was also his
partner, now joined us, and was desired by his father to sketch a
draught in pencil of some fancy rings, agreeable to the directions I
should give him. The three rings I had viewed were now removed to the
end of the counter next the window, and I informed the young man that I
wished to have something of a cluster, a large brilliant in the centre,
surrounded with smaller ones; but repeated my desire that no expense
might be spared to render the article strictly elegant, and worthy a
lady's acceptance. The son having sketched a design of several rings on
a card, I examined them with attention, and appeared in doubt which to
prefer, but desired to see some loose diamonds, in order to form a
better idea of the size, &c. of each ring described in the drawing. Mr.
Bilger, however, declared he had not any by him. It is probable he spoke
the truth: or he might have lost such numbers by showing them, as to
deter him from exhibiting them in future. Without having made up my mind
on the subject, I now requested to see some of his most fashionable
brooches or shirt-pins. Mr. Bilger produced a show-glass, containing a
variety of articles in pearl, but he had nothing of the kind in
diamonds. I took up two or three of the brooches, and immediately _sunk_
a very handsome one, marked three guineas, in my coat sleeve. I next
purloined a beautiful clasp for a lady's waist, consisting of stones set
in gold, which had the brilliancy and appearance of real diamonds, but
marked only four guineas. I should probably have gone still deeper, but
at this moment a lady, coming in, desired to look at some ear-rings, and
the younger Mr. Bilger immediately quitted his father to attend upon her
at the other end of the shop. It struck me that now was my time for a
decisive stroke. The card containing the diamond rings, procured from
the maker, lying very near the show-glass I was viewing, and many small
articles irregularly placed round about them, the candles not throwing
much light upon that particular spot, and Mr. Bilger's attention being
divided between myself and the lady, to whom he frequently addressed
himself, I suddenly took the three rings from the card, and committed
them to my sleeve to join the brooch and lady's clasp; but had them so
situated that I could in a moment have released and replaced them on the
counter, had an inquiry been made for them. I then looked at my watch,
and, observing that I was going to the theatre, told Mr. Bilger that I
would not trouble him any further, as the articles before me were too
tawdry and common to please me, but that I would put the card of
draughts in my pocket-book; and, if I did not meet with a ring of the
kind I wanted before Monday or Tuesday, I would certainly call again and
give him final directions. I was then drawing on my gloves, being
anxious to quit the shop while I was well; but Mr. Bilger, who seemed
delighted with the prospect of my custom, begged so earnestly that I
would allow him to show me his brilliant assortment of gold watches that
I could not refuse to gratify him, though I certainly incurred a great
risk by my compliance. I therefore answered, 'Really, Mr. Bilger, I am
loath to give you that unnecessary trouble, as I have, you may perceive,
a very good watch already, in point of performance, though it cost me a
mere trifle--only twenty guineas; but it answers my purpose as well as a
more valuable one. However, as I may probably, before long, want an
elegant watch for a lady, I don't care if I just run my eye over them.'
Mr. Bilger replied that the greater part of his stock were fancy
watches, adapted for ladies; and he defied all London united to exhibit
a finer collection. He then took from his window a show-glass,
containing about thirty most beautiful watches, some ornamented with
pearls or diamonds, others elegantly enamelled, or chased in the most
delicate style. They were of various prices, from thirty to one hundred
guineas; and the old gentleman rubbing his hands with an air of rapture,
exclaimed, 'There they are, sir; a most fashionable assortment of goods;
allow me to recommend them, they're all a-going, sir--all a-going.' I
smiled inwardly at the latter part of this speech, and thought to
myself, 'I wish they were going, with all my heart, along with the
diamond rings.' I answered they were certainly very handsome, but I
would defer a minute inspection of them till my next visit, when I
should have more time to spare. These watches were ranged in exact
order, in five parallel lines; and between each watch was placed a gold
seal or other trinket appertaining to a lady's watch. It was no easy
matter, therefore, to take away a single article without its being
instantly missed, unless the economy of the whole had been previously
deranged. I contrived, however, to displace a few of the trinkets, on
pretence of admiring them, and ventured to secrete one very rich gold
seal, marked six guineas. I then declared I could stay no longer, as I
had appointed to meet a party at the theatre; but that I would certainly
call again in a few days, and lay out some money in return for the
trouble I had given. Mr. Bilger expressed his thanks in the most
respectful terms, and waited upon me to the door, where he took leave of
me with a very low _congé, à la mode de France_, of which country he was
a native. I now put the best foot foremost, and having gained a remote
street, turned my head, and perceived Bromley at my heels, who seized my
hand, congratulating me on my success, and complimenting me on the
address I had shown in this exploit; for he had witnessed all that
passed, and knew that I had succeeded in my object, by the manner in
which I quitted the shop. He informed me that Mr. Bilger had returned to
his counter, and, without attending to the arrangement of the articles
thereon, had joined his son, who was still waiting upon the lady, and
that he, Bromley, had finally left them both engaged with her."
Such was his rapacity, that he renewed his visit to Mr. Bilger's shop;
but the reception he met satisfied him that he was suspected. He,
however, left an order for a splendid ring; and, while the jeweller's
son, as Vaux thought, was taking down his directions, he was only
writing a description of his person, and a handbill in a few days was
widely circulated among the pawnbrokers, peace-officers, &c. A day or
two after Vaux called at Turner's--a pawnbroker, in Brydges Street,
Covent Garden--to redeem some article he had pledged, when he saw such
manoeuvres in the shop as induced him to make a precipitate retreat,
and go into concealment.
At length, "necessity," as he says himself, forced him out; and, the
first night, he stole, from a shop in Ludgate Street, property to the
amount of four or five pounds, with which he was so much pleased that he
returned for his wife, and took her out to walk. Contrary to her earnest
remonstrance, they went to a flash-house, near Clare Market, where the
landlord betrayed him into the hands of justice, and he was hurried off
to the watch-house. Next day he underwent an examination at Bow Street,
and was remanded. During the interval between his first and second
appearance he had completely metamorphosed his person by cutting his
hair and whiskers, and putting on a mean suit of clothes. But all would
not do; he was recognised through his disguise, and fully committed. His
trial came on at the Old Bailey, February the 15th, 1809, and, the facts
being sworn to, he was found guilty--death. His sentence was afterwards
commuted to transportation for life, preparatory to which he was
conveyed on board the Retribution hulk at Woolwich.
"I had now," says Vaux, "a new scene of misery to contemplate; and, of
all the shocking scenes I had ever beheld, this was the most
distressing. There were confined in this floating dungeon nearly six
hundred men, most of them double-ironed, and the reader may conceive the
horrible effects arising from the continual rattling of chains, the
filth and vermin naturally produced by such a crowd of miserable
inhabitants, the oaths and execrations constantly heard among them; and,
above all, from the shocking necessity of associating and communicating
more or less with so depraved a set of beings. On arriving on board, we
were all immediately stripped, and washed in large tubs of water; then,
after putting on each a suit of coarse slop clothing, we were ironed,
and sent below, our own clothes being taken from us, and detained till
we could sell or otherwise dispose of them, as no person is exempted
from the obligation to wear the ship-dress. On descending the hatchway,
no conception can be formed of the scene which presented itself. I shall
not attempt to describe it; but nothing short of a descent to the
infernal regions can be at all worthy of a comparison with it. I soon
met with many of my old Botany Bay acquaintances, who were all eager to
offer me their friendship and services,--that is, with a view to rob me
of what little I had; for in this place there is no other motive or
subject for ingenuity. All former friendships or connexions are
dissolved, and a man here will rob his best benefactor, or even
messmate, of an article worth one halfpenny. Every morning, at seven
o'clock, all the convicts capable of work, or, in fact, all who are
capable of getting into the boats, are taken ashore to the Warren, in
which the Royal Arsenal and other public buildings are situated, and are
there employed at various kinds of labour, some of them very fatiguing;
and, while so employed, each gang of sixteen or twenty men is watched
and directed by a fellow called a guard. These guards are most commonly
of the lowest class of human beings; wretches devoid of all feeling;
ignorant in the extreme; brutal by nature, and rendered tyrannical and
cruel by the consciousness of the power they possess: no others, but
such as I have described, would hold the situation, their wages being
not more than a day-labourer would earn in London. They invariably carry
a large and ponderous stick, with which, without the smallest
provocation, they will fell an unfortunate convict to the ground, and
frequently repeat their blows long after the poor sufferer is
insensible. At noon the working party return on board to dinner, and at
one again go on shore, where they labour till near sun-set. On returning
on board in the evening, all hands are mustered by a roll, and the whole
being turned down below, the hatches are put over them, and secured for
the night. As to the food, the stipulated ration is very scanty, but of
even part of that they are defrauded. Their provisions, being supplied
by contractors, and not by government, are of the worst kind, such as
would not be considered eatable or wholesome elsewhere; and both the
weight and measure are always deficient. The allowance of bread is said
to be about twenty ounces per day. Three days in the week they have
about four ounces of cheese for dinner, and the other four days a pound
of beef. The breakfast is invariably boiled barley, of the coarsest kind
imaginable; and of this the pigs of the hulk come in for a third part,
because it is so nauseous that nothing but downright hunger will enable
a man to eat it. For supper, they have, on banyan days, burgoo, of as
good a quality as the barley, and which is similarly disposed of; and on
meat days, the water in which the beef was boiled is thickened with
barley, and forms a mess called 'smiggins,' of a more detestable nature
than either of the two former! The reader may conceive that I do not
exaggerate when I state that among the convicts the common price of
these several eatables is,--for a day's allowance of beef, one
halfpenny;--ditto, of cheese, one halfpenny;--ditto, of bread,
three-halfpence; but the cheese is most commonly so bad that they throw
it away. It is manufactured, I believe, of skimmed milk, for this
particular contract. The beef generally consists of old bulls or cows
who have died of age or famine; the least trace of fat is considered a
phenomenon, and it is far inferior upon the whole to good horse-flesh. I
once saw the prisoners throw the whole day's supply overboard the moment
it was hoisted out of the boat, and for this offence they were severely
flogged. The friends of these unhappy persons are not allowed to come on
board, but must remain alongside during their visit; the prisoners are,
it is true, suffered to go into their boat, but a guard is placed within
hearing of their conversation; and if a friend or parent has come one
hundred miles, they are not allowed above ten minutes' interview: so
that, instead of consolation, the visit only excites regret at the
parties being so suddenly torn asunder. All letters, too, written by
prisoners, must be delivered unsealed to the chief mate for his
inspection, before they are sent ashore; and such as he thinks obnoxious
are of course suppressed. In like manner, all letters received from the
post-office are opened and scrutinised. If I were to attempt a full
description of the miseries endured in these ships, I could fill a
volume; but I shall sum up all by stating that besides robbery from each
other, which is as common as cursing and swearing, I witnessed among the
prisoners themselves, during the twelvemonth I remained with them, one
deliberate murder, for which the perpetrator was executed at Maidstone,
and one suicide; and that unnatural crimes are openly committed."
From the misery of the hulks he was removed on the 15th of June 1810,
for the second time, to Botany Bay. His wife, who had all along
manifested the utmost attention, was prevented by a succession of
unfortunate circumstances from seeing him previous to his departure; nor
does it appear that he knew what become of her afterwards. On the 16th
of the following December, the transport arrived at Sydney Cove, where
Vaux found that the report of his exploits in London had preceded him.
He endeavoured to make interest with the governor, in the hope of being
employed as a clerk; but this being his second visit, he was listened to
with distrust, and was sent up the country to a settler, who used him
with great barbarity. To escape from this tyranny Vaux feigned himself
sick, and thus procured his removal to the hospital, from which he was
discharged in a month, and appointed overseer to a town gang. He now
resolved to lead a correct life, and establish, if possible, a character
for himself, seeing, as he says, the necessity of good conduct, from the
consequences that invariably attend on an improper one. If we believe
him, he adhered firmly to his vows of rectitude; but his notorious
character operated against him, and he fell a victim to prejudice and
the depravity of a youth, who was a veteran in iniquity. This young
villain's name was Edwards. He was servant to Mr. Bent the
judge-advocate, from whom he purloined bills and money. Vaux, suspecting
his dishonesty, warned him of his danger; but the artful thief accounted
for his being so flush in money by the presents he was in the habit of
receiving from his master's visitors.
One evening he came running into Vaux's lodgings, and requested of him
to keep some articles and parcels which he put into his hand. Vaux at
first refused, but was ultimately prevailed on to keep them for a few
minutes. Edwards had scarcely departed when he thought he did wrong, and
acquainted his landlord with the transaction. That person desired him to
go immediately and deliver the property up to the judge-advocate in a
public manner, as the only way left him to escape being implicated with
Edwards, and with this advice Vaux resolved to comply, but having
stopped first to smoke a pipe, before he had finished it, two officers
entered and apprehended him. His conduct was open, and his landlord
deposed in his favour; but Edwards accused him, in revenge for giving up
the property, of being an accomplice, and he was finally banished to the
Coal River, where he continued doing all kind of work for two years,
after which he was permitted to return to Sydney, where he was once
more placed in the town-gang.
Again he renewed his vows of rectitude, but was unable to obtain any
station less degrading than the one in which he was placed. The picture
before him was disheartening in the extreme--an exile for life--and
compelled to labour at the basest and lowest employment of mankind. A
British sailor took compassion on him and offered, in 1814, to conceal
him in his vessel, until she should sail, and he embraced the generous
proposal; but after lying close and undiscovered for four days, some one
on board gave information, and the unfortunate wretch was dragged
ashore, punished with fifty lashes, and sentenced to transportation to
the Coal River for one year.
"In a few days," says he in his Memoirs, "I was accordingly embarked
with eleven other prisoners, and a second time landed at Newcastle, from
whence I had been absent nearly twelve months. On my arrival, it
happened that the storekeeper of that settlement was in want of a clerk,
and he applying to the commandant for me, I was appointed to that
situation, in which I still continue; and having scrupulously adhered to
my former vows of rectitude, and used every exertion to render myself
serviceable to my employer, and to merit his good opinion as well as
that of the commandant. I have had the satisfaction to succeed in these
objects; and I am not without hope that, when I am permitted to quit my
present service and return to Sydney, my good conduct will be rewarded
with a more desirable situation. I have now been upwards of seven years
a prisoner, and, knowing the hopeless sentence under which I labour, I
shall, I trust, studiously avoid in future every act which may subject
me to the censure of my superiors, or entail upon me a repetition of
those sufferings I have already too severely experienced. I have thus
described (perhaps too minutely for the reader's patience) the various
vicissitudes of my past life. Whether the future will be so far
diversified as to afford matter worthy of being committed to paper,
either to amuse a vacant hour, or to serve as a beacon which may warn
others to avoid the rocks on which I have unhappily split, is only known
to the great Disposer of events."
The "Memoirs written by himself," from which we have extracted the most
interesting passages, here terminate.
We have been the more willing to give the adventures of this notorious
villain, as he gives them,--although we confess that we are of opinion
that there is some exaggeration in what he states--because, however
great may be the depravity, of which he admits he was guilty, his
punishments and his miseries convey a moral, most forcibly depicting the
danger of such a line of conduct as he adopted. His memoirs were written
by himself in the year 1816, and were published in London in about three
years afterwards. Of his subsequent career we know little, but we learn
by recent accounts received from Sydney, that this hoary old sinner, at
the age of fifty-seven, has been convicted and sentenced to an
imprisonment of two years' duration, upon a charge of indecently
assaulting a girl of tender age. Whatever may have been his course of
life in later years, however frightful may have been his career of sin
in his younger days, we hold that this new offence, of which he has been
found guilty, is the crowning crime of the whole; and we regret that the
human heart should have arrived at such a degree of profligacy as to
admit the guilt of youth, and to be unable to withstand its temptation,
in old age.
JOHN WHITMORE, _alias_ OLD DASH.
EXECUTED FOR A RAPE.
The summary punishment of a ravisher, by a conscientious Emperor of the
Turks, in days of old, if now, perchance, inflicted, might more tend to
check the inordinate, unlawful lust of men, than all the public
executions of such destroyers of the peace of females.
It is said that Mahmoud, Sultan of Damascus, one night while he was
going to bed, was addressed by a poor villager, who complained that a
young Turk of distinction had broken into his apartment, and forced him
to abandon his wife and family to his abuses. The good sultan charged
that, if the Turk returned, he should immediately give him notice of it.
Three days after the poor man came again with the same complaint.
Mahmoud took a few attendants with him, and, being arrived at the
complainant's, commanded the lights to be extinguished, and rushing in,
cut the ravisher to pieces. He then ordered a light, to see whom he had
killed, and being satisfied, he fell on his knees and returned God
thanks; after which he ate heartily of the poor man's bread, and gave
him a purse of gold. Being asked the reason of this extraordinary
behaviour, he replied, "I concluded this ravisher was one who might
fancy himself entitled to my protection, and consequently might be no
other than my son; therefore, lest the tenderness of nature should
enervate the arm of justice, I resolved to give it scope in the dark.
But, when I saw that it was only an officer of my guards, I joyfully
returned God thanks. Then I asked the injured man for food to satisfy my
hunger, having had neither sleep nor sustenance from the moment I heard
the accusation till I had thus punished the author of the wrong, and
showed myself worthy of my people's obedience."
Upon the same principle as that acted upon by the worthy Turkish sultan,
the hut of the meanest peasant is, by the law of England, as sacred as
the most gorgeous palace, and the chastity of his wife or daughter
should be held inviolate. The instances of disobedience to the laws in
this respect are but too frequent, and in no case have circumstances of
greater atrocity appeared than in that which we shall now detail.
John Whitmore was capitally indicted for a rape on the person of Mary,
the wife of Thomas Brown, on the 24th of October, 1810, on the Common
between Hayes and West Bedford. The prisoner was a labourer in the
powder-mills at Harlington Common; and the prosecutrix, who lived at
Hayes, having one of her sons by a former husband living as servant with
Mr. Potts, a farmer, at West Bedford, had gone thither about twelve
o'clock with some clean linen for him. She stopped at a public-house in
the neighbourhood whilst he changed his linen, and there saw the
prisoner, who, after asking her several questions, told her she had come
much the longest way about, on her way from Hayes, and offered to show
her a much shorter cut over the heath on her return. The prosecutrix
thanked him, and accepted his offer. He accompanied her as if for that
purpose, decoyed her two miles out of her way to an unfrequented part of
the heath, amongst some bushes, under pretence of looking after a stray
horse, and there brutally violated her person.
The poor woman, who was forty-seven years of age, as soon as she could,
ran away from him, over the heath, and again lost her way; by accident
she met a gentleman, who put her in the right road, and she reached her
home about eight o'clock at night. She was afraid to tell her husband
what had occurred till the following Sunday.
The husband next day set out with the constable in search of the
prisoner, from the description given by his wife, and on Tuesday traced
him to a public-house at Twickenham, where he was known by the familiar
appellation of "Old Dasher;" and there, after a stout resistance, he was
taken into custody. The facts were, on his trial, which took place at
the Old Bailey, in October 1810, clearly established by the poor woman,
and the Common Serjeant having summed up the evidence, the prisoner was
convicted and received sentence of death, in pursuance of which he was
subsequently executed.
AGNES ADAMS.
IMPRISONED FOR UTTERING A FORGED NOTE.
For three or four years previous to this trial, numberless impositions
had been practised upon the unwary in the metropolis, by the passing of
paper manufactured in imitation of the notes of the Bank of England,
which were traced to have originated in the Fleet Prison, a receptacle
for debtors only.
The notes, it seems, were printed on paper similar to those of the Bank
of England; but upon the slightest inspection they were easily detected.
The great success of sharpers passing them chiefly arose from the hurry
of business, and from the novelty of the fraud. The shopkeeper would see
the word one, two, three, &c., an exact imitation of the genuine notes,
but did not examine farther, or he would have found, instead of pounds,
the counterfeit expressed pence; and instead of "Governor and Company of
the Bank of England," the words "Governor and Company of the Bank of
Fleet," substituted. The offence of publishing these notes, however, was
not deemed a forgery.
The circulation of Fleet paper was generally intrusted to profligate
women, who cohabited with the men who made them. This mode was less
suspicious, and in a single year had been carried on to a considerable
amount.
Of this description, and we could adduce many such, was Agnes Adams who,
in passing one of such notes, filled up with the words "two pence," as a
two-pound Bank of England note, to Mr. Spratz, a publican of St. John
Street, Clerkenwell, was by him detected, seized, prosecuted and
convicted at the Middlesex Sessions, 1811. The punishment could only be
extended to six months' hard labour in the House of Correction.
The fraternity of thieves about London have fabricated cant names for
the different articles which they steal. The Fleet notes were called
"Flash Screens."
RICHARD ARMITAGE AND CHARLES THOMAS.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The crime for which these men justly suffered was a forgery of the very
worst description, having for its effect a scandalous breach of public
trust--a robbery upon the very corporation which they were bound to
protect from the nefarious attempts of others.
It appears that they were connected with a person named Roberts, who was
apprehended on a charge of swindling, on which he was remanded from the
police-office to Coldbath-Fields' Prison, in the year 1810. In a few
days he succeeded in making his escape from the jail, in company with a
man named Harper, by the most extraordinary means. From the evidence
adduced before the magistrates, before whom an inquiry into the escape
took place, it appeared that the prisoners were locked up in the usual
way at night, but that in the morning they were found to have escaped.
On the jail being examined, six gates which had been locked were found
standing open, and it was discovered that the prisoners had completed
their design by scaling the outer wall, which they had ascended by means
of the scaffolding round a lodge which was in the course of being built,
and from which they had reached the ground by means of a rope which was
found still hanging on the outside. The most anxious inquiries were made
after Roberts, but it was not until the month of April 1811 that he was
discovered at a tavern at Vauxhall, where he had passed himself off as a
country attorney, and was taken into custody. He then, to save his own
life, impeached the partners in his villany, and Armitage and Thomas,
who were clerks in the Bank of England, were in consequence secured.
Armitage was first taken, and he was examined at Marlborough-street, and
committed for trial on charges of forging dividend warrants to the
amount of £2400; and Thomas was almost immediately afterwards
apprehended, and committed on the same charges.
At the ensuing Sessions they were put on their trial, when the case
proved against them was, that they were bank clerks in the Imperial
Annuity Office, and that they had forged a warrant to obtain the
dividends due upon a sum of money belonging to a person who had been
dead three years, and whose executors had not applied for the property.
In pursuance of the warrants forged in this case the amount paid was
£360, and the prisoner Thomas signed the book as an attesting witness.
The case was proved by Roberts and his wife, whose testimony, however,
was corroborated by that of other witnesses, and the prisoners were
found guilty and were sentenced to death.
The unhappy men were executed on the 24th of June, 1811, at the Old
Bailey, pursuant to their sentence. Armitage, from severe illness, was
supported to the scaffold by a friend; he was also accompanied by a
clergyman, to whose admonitions he appeared to pay great attention. His
companion was a catholic, and was attended by a priest of that
persuasion. He exhibited great fortitude.
The secret of Roberts' escape was not discovered for a considerable time
afterwards, when he was induced to confess, that through the means of a
bribe offered to the person who swept the cells, he was enabled to
procure impressions in wax of the keys which would be required to open
the doors through which he and his fellow-prisoner would have to pass.
Having obtained these, he soon got keys made, and he was assisted in his
flight by this "friend at court." It was supposed, however, that he had
some other more powerful ally than a sweeper, and considerable changes
in the management of the jail were subsequently made.
The punishment for the crime of forgery, a few years only before this
time, was much less severe than that which was now inflicted, the
increase of the offence having rendered an alteration in its severity
necessary. It would appear, however, that the efforts of legislators
produced anything but the desired effect, the frequency of the offence
being increased instead of diminished. The ancient punishment for this
crime we find thus minutely described in a London periodical publication
for the year 1731:--
"_June 9th._--This day, about noon, Japhet Crook, _alias_ St. Peter
Stranger, was brought to the pillory at Charing Cross, according to his
sentence for forgery. He stood an hour thereon; after which a chair was
set on the pillory; and he being put therein, the hangman with a sort of
pruning-knife cut off both his ears, and immediately a surgeon clapped a
styptic thereon. Then the executioner, with a pair of scissors, cut his
left nostril twice before it was quite through, and afterwards cut
through the right nostril at once. He bore all this with great patience;
but when, in pursuance of his sentence, his right nostril was seared
with a red-hot iron, he was in such violent pain that his left nostril
was let alone, and he went from the pillory bleeding. He was conveyed
from thence to the King's Bench Prison, there to remain for life. He
died in confinement about three years after."
JANE COX.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The practice of apothecaries selling poison in their shops to strangers,
who purchase it under the pretence of its having to be employed in
killing rats, is one which cannot be too severely reprobated, and even
punished. In Mantua of old, it appears from Shakspeare's _Romeo and
Juliet_, that it was an offence punishable with death, for the
Apothecary says,
"Such mortal drugs I have, but Mantua's law
Is death to any he that utters them;"
and the peace and safety of society might be secured, and crime and
suicide rendered much less frequent, if some such provision were made in
England.
On the subject of selling poison for the purpose of committing murder,
we find, from "Hill's Journey through Sicily and Calabria," that in the
year 1791, at Palermo, a city not far distant from Mantua, an old woman
was executed for dealing out such mortal drugs.
"Many people in this town and neighbourhood," (Palermo,) says this
author, "died in a sudden and extraordinary manner; they were generally
seized with vomiting, and expired in a few hours. A young woman went to
an officer of justice to make some complaints concerning her husband; he
desired her to be reconciled, and refused to proceed against him, upon
which she turned away in a rage, muttering that she knew how to be
revenged. The magistrate paid attention to what she said, and gave
orders for her being arrested; when, upon strict inquiry concerning the
meaning of her word, she confessed that it was her intention to poison
her husband, by purchasing a bottle of vinegar from an old woman, who
prepared it for that purpose. In order to ascertain the truth of this
story, another woman was sent to the old jade, to demand some of the
vinegar, which was sold for about ten pence a bottle. 'What do you want
with it?' said the vender: 'Why,' replied the other, 'I have a very bad
husband, and I want to get rid of him.' Hereupon the old woman,
seventy-two years of age, produced the fatal dose; upon which she was
immediately seized, and conducted to prison, where she confessed that
she had sold forty-five or forty-six bottles. Many people were taken up;
but as, upon further inquiry, it was discovered that several of the
nobility had been purchasers, the affair was dropped, and the old woman
alone suffered death."
To proceed, however, to the case of the unfortunate prisoner whose name
heads this article. On the 9th of August, 1811, she was indicted at the
Assizes for the county of Devon, for the wilful murder of John Trenaman,
an infant sixteen months old; and Arthur Tucker was indicted as an
accessory before the fact.
The latter was a respectable farmer, living at Hatherleigh, in
Devonshire; and the infant was his natural child. It appeared that Jane
Cox had, on the 25th of May, 1811, administered to the child a quantity
of arsenic, by putting it into the child's hands, which it put into its
mouth and ate, and in consequence died in about two hours. The prisoner,
in her written confession, had implicated Tucker, as having persuaded
her to commit this act, and stated that he had taken the arsenic from
under the roof of a cottage, and given it to her, and promised her a
one-pound note if she would administer it to the child.
The prisoner, Jane Cox, after a trial of seven hours was convicted; but
Tucker, who called a number of respectable witnesses who gave him a very
high character, was acquitted, the woman's story being unsupported by
evidence, and being disbelieved.
On Monday the 12th of August, 1811, pursuant to her sentence, the
unfortunate woman was brought to the "new drop," the place of execution,
and underwent the sentence of the law.
She addressed the spectators at some length, and in a very audible
manner; she repeated her former confession, with some further
particulars respecting the means used by Tucker to prevail on her to
commit the horrid deed, for which she acknowledged she ought to die, but
lamented that the person who had instigated her to the commission of it
was not also to suffer with her.
MICHAEL WHITING.
EXECUTED FOR POISONING HIS BROTHERS-IN-LAW.
Crime has different shades; but a deeper dye cannot be given to it, than
when one in the assumed robe of sanctity attempts to dip his hands in
human blood, particularly when that blood is united to him by ties of
consanguinity.
Michael Whiting lived at Downham, where he occasionally preached, being
a Methodist parson; but as the bounty of those who listened to his pious
exhortations was not very large, he endeavoured to add to his resources
by keeping a shop in which he sold bread, meal, &c. and also drugs,
being at once a comforter of the soul and body.
This hypocrite had two brothers-in-law, named George and Joseph Langman,
who resided on a small farm near Downham. They were both under age, and
had two sisters, one of whom was married to Whiting, and the other, aged
ten years, lived with her brothers. To possess himself of the small
estate of these youths, Whiting had recourse to a most diabolical plan.
The little sister was sent to his shop for some bread, and, learning
from her that the housekeeper of the brothers was about going from home
for a few days, he affected much kindness, and promised paying them a
visit. He did so, and with unusual liberality brought with him materials
for making a pudding or two, observing to the housekeeper, "Catherine,
be sure you make the boys a pudding before you go." After doling out a
few texts of Scripture, which he had ready on all occasions, and which
he applied with about as much judgment as Sancho Panza did his proverbs,
he departed, taking with him the little girl, tenderly remarking that
her sister would take better care of her than her brothers, during the
housekeeper's absence.
Catherine made the puddings; but remarked, during the process, that the
dough would not properly adhere, and when she departed she left them in
a kneading-trough. The brothers, not suspecting that any mischief was
intended, boiled one of the puddings for dinner, and when properly done,
sat down to partake of it; but before they had swallowed three
mouthfuls, they were seized with violent vomitings. Suspecting that the
pudding was poisoned, they threw a small piece of it to a sow in the
yard; which she had scarcely swallowed, when the poor animal was taken
sick, and after lingering a short time died.
The elder brother, by the application of proper medicine, soon
recovered; but the younger lingered for a long time ere he regained his
health. The pudding was now analysed by a professor of chemistry, who
found it to contain a large quantity of corrosive sublimate of mercury,
and no other poisonous ingredient,--a fact which destroyed the defence
set up by Whiting, that he had laid some _nux vomica_ for rats, some of
which he supposed had got among the meal.
For this offence Whiting was indicted at the Isle of Ely Assizes, on
Thursday the 5th of March, 1811; when, in addition to the above facts,
it was proved that, in the event of the Langmans' death, he would come
in for their property, in right of his wife, as the next heiress of her
brothers.
The trial lasted till six o'clock in the evening, when the jury retired,
and, after a deliberation of ten minutes, found the prisoner Guilty,
when he was immediately sentenced to be hanged.
HARRIET MAGNIS.
TRIED FOR CHILD STEALING.
The offence for which this woman was tried was one which, at the time of
its commission, attracted a very considerable degree of attention. The
child stolen was the offspring of a respectable couple living in
Martin's-lane, in the City, named Dellow; and it appears that he was
playing with his little sister in the neighbourhood of his mother's
house, when he was suddenly missed, and all tidings of him were lost. A
woman, it was proved, had been seen in the neighbourhood immediately
before the child was lost, and suspicion rested upon her; but although
the most vigilant search was made, her person could never be identified.
Suspicion first fell upon an innocent lady, the wife of a surgeon in the
navy, and, after two examinations of several witnesses, all of whom
mistook her person, she was committed for trial at the Old Bailey.
On her trial, however, she was acquitted, as indeed there appeared to be
no proof of her identity, and the case was still pervaded by the same
uncertainty as before.
At length the mystery began to develop itself. The first information
received in London was from a magistrate in Gosport, acquainting Mr. and
Mrs. Dellow of the discovery that their child was safe there, and ready
to be delivered to its parents. The father instantly set off, and soon
after returned home with his son, when he was required to appear before
the Lord Mayor of London, where he found William Barber, the keeper of
the Gosport prison, ready to give evidence against a woman of that town
of the name of Harriet Magnis, in whose possession the child was found.
This man having seen a hand-bill describing the child, got information
that it was at Gosport, and went to the lodgings of Mrs. Magnis, who
lived in a very respectable way. He asked her if she had a child, and if
it was her own; to which she replied, rather faintly, that it was; but
upon his saying that he doubted it, and desiring to see the child, she
took him very readily to the room where it was in bed, and confessed to
him that she had found the boy in London.
She afterwards, however, confessed the whole affair, and her motive for
the robbery. She said that her husband, who was a gunner on board one of
his Majesty's ships, and had saved a considerable sum of money for a man
in his station of life, was extremely partial to children, and had often
expressed his most anxious wish to have a little darling, as he used to
term it. His wife, not less anxious to gratify him in this respect,
wrote to him while at sea, that she was in the family way. The gunner,
highly delighted that he had obtained his desired object, sent home the
earnings of many a cruise, amounting to three hundred pounds, with a
particular charge that the infant should be well rigged, and want for
nothing; if a boy, so much the better.
The next letter from his hopeful wife announced the happy tidings that
his first-born was a son; and that she would name him Richard, after his
father. The husband expressed his joy at the news, and counted the
tedious hours until he should be permitted to come home to his wife and
child.
At home he at length arrived, but at an unfortunate time, when the dear
Richard was out at nurse, at a considerable distance; change of air
being necessary to the easy cutting of his teeth. The husband's time
being short, he left England with a heavy heart, without being able to
see his offspring; but he was assured that on his next trip to Gosport
he should have the felicity he had so often pined for, of clasping his
darling to his bosom. It was not until November 1810 that he was at
liberty to revisit home, when he had again the mortification to find
that his son, whom he expected to see a fine boy of three years old, had
not yet cut his teeth, or that he was from home on some other pretence.
The husband, however, was not to be pacified thus: he would go and see
his son, or his son should come to him. Mrs. Magnis, finding him
determined, thought the latter the much better way, and accordingly set
off to fetch the boy. The metropolis occurred to her as the market best
calculated to afford her a choice of children; and, passing down
Martin's-lane, she was struck with the rosy little citizen, Tommy
Dellow, and at once determined to make him her prize. He was playing
with his sister at the greengrocer's shop-door, into which Mrs. Magnis
went, with the double view of purchasing some apples, and carrying off
the boy. She made much of the sister, caressed the boy, and gave him an
apple. The children being pleased with her attention, she asked the
little girl to show her to a pastry-cook's shop to buy some cakes, when
she got clear off with the boy, and left the girl behind.
Poor Magnis felt a parental affection for the boy; and when the
imposition was discovered before the magistrate, he was grieved to the
heart at being obliged to part with him under all the circumstances of
the transaction.
The woman, upon evidence being produced of these facts, was committed to
Winchester jail for trial; but at the assizes she escaped, on account of
her being indicted in the wrong county, the felony having been committed
in London.
BENJAMIN WALSH, ESQ., M.P.
TRIED FOR FELONY.
The name of Mr. Walsh was long known in the City as that of a daring
mercantile speculator; and it appears that having thrown himself into
considerable difficulties, he succeeded in wiping them all off by a
commission of bankruptcy, and almost immediately afterwards obtained a
seat in Parliament.
Among the dignified members of the House of Commons, Sir Thomas Plomer
seemed to entertain an opinion of Mr. Walsh which was in no degree
altered by his recent transactions, and he intrusted him with £22,000 to
purchase government securities for him. Mr. Walsh, however, laid out the
greater part of the money in the stocks of the United States of America
on his own account, and endeavoured to flee to that land of refuge for
the guilty, but was overtaken by the arm of justice at the very port
from which he intended to sail from his native country. He was
unfortunately for his own design too pertinacious of his privilege of
franking letters, and he continued even while flying from London, when
one would have supposed he would have endeavoured to remain unknown, to
despatch letters to his friends indorsed "Free, B. Walsh." These
communications being stopped by an order of the government, the course
of his flight was discovered, and he was followed to Falmouth by a
Bow-street runner, and the solicitor of Sir Thomas Plomer, by whom he
was secured and brought to London.
He was indicted at the ensuing Old Bailey Sessions for the offence of
stealing the money, when Mr. Garrow appeared for the prosecution, and
Mr. Scarlett for the defence.
Upon the witnesses being examined, Sir Thomas Plomer stated that he had
given the money to the prisoner for the express purpose of purchasing
exchequer bills. He had given it to him in a check, for which he got
cash. The prisoner did afterwards lodge £6000 of the bills at Sir
Thomas's bankers.
Mr. Scarlett, in addressing the Court for the defence, hoped he should
not be understood to entertain any other sentiments of this offence than
a conviction of the moral turpitude of the prisoner; and he was
satisfied the prisoner himself entertained no other sentiment, and felt
all the contrition belonging to such a crime; but it now became his duty
to make such objections as occurred to him:--First, there could be no
charge of this sort for stealing the check, for it was in evidence that
the prosecutor had given it to the prisoner for a specific purpose; and
it was not altogether misapplied, for he had purchased some exchequer
bills, and the law did not allow the act of felony to be in part
separated. The second objection was under the statute of the second year
of the reign of George II. by which the security intended by the
legislature was given to such property as was still available to the
party prosecutor. In this case the party prosecutor had parted with all
control over the check by delivering it to the prisoner. Thirdly, the
felonious intent of the party taking was not in itself sufficient to
constitute a felony when the party to whom the property belonged had
relinquished his control over it; and in support of these objections, he
referred to several cases in point.
After some observations by Mr. Garrow, it was agreed that the jury
should find a verdict subject to the future opinion of the twelve judges
upon the chief baron's report.
The chief baron acquiesced in this arrangement, and then adverted to
that part of the evidence which went to show the previous intent of the
prisoner to commit the felony; observing, at the same time, that it was
impossible, upon such evidence, not to find the prisoner guilty, who, in
consequence of the objections made by his counsel, would have the
benefit of the judgment of the twelve judges hereafter.
The jury immediately returned a verdict of--Guilty.
During the whole of the trial the prisoner was much affected.
The result of the argument before the judges was, that the facts proved
did not, in estimation of law, amount to felony; and as Walsh had been
convicted of that offence, he received a free pardon.
The Commons expelled him from his seat in their house; and he was again
made a bankrupt, whereupon Sir Thomas found himself entitled only to a
pitiful dividend under the second commission.
THE MURDER OF THE MARRS AND WILLIAMSONS.
The close of the year 1811 was productive of two scenes of blood, which
struck horror into all hearts; we allude to the murders of the families
of the Marrs and Williamsons, in Ratcliffe Highway, which were
accomplished under circumstances of the most frightful atrocity, and of
the most extraordinary mystery.
It appears that Mr. Marr was a linen-draper in a respectable way of
business living in Ratcliffe Highway, and that his household
establishment consisted of himself, his wife, and infant child, a
shop-boy and a servant woman. It was his custom to close his shop at
about eleven o'clock, when he and his assistant proceeded to dispose of
the commodities which had been exposed for sale during the day by
placing them on the shelves. On a dark evening at the beginning of the
month of December 1811, he was engaged in the customary manner, his shop
being closed, when the servant woman was despatched to procure some
oysters for supper from a neighbouring shop. On her quitting her
master's house she left the door a-jar, in order that she might procure
a ready access on her return, and she went directly to the house of a
person who resided only a few doors off to purchase the fish. She found,
however, that they had sold the whole of their stock, and she was
therefore compelled to go further; and having purchased the quantity
required, and had them opened, she returned immediately to the residence
of Mr. Marr. On her reaching the door, she found that it was closed, and
she rang the bell. No answer was, however, returned and she repeated her
application to the wire. Still no one came, and a watchman coming up at
the moment inquired what she was doing there? She informed him of the
errand on which she had been sent, and that she could not obtain an
entrance, upon which he pulled the bell with great violence, but his
efforts were attended with no better effect than those of the servant
girl. Some alarm was now begun to be felt, and the next-door neighbour
coming out, to learn the cause of the interference of the constables,
three or four persons soon collected, amongst whom a consultation was
held as to the best mode of proceeding. Various courses were suggested,
a continued application to the knocker and bell being made in the mean
time; and at length, no answer being given, it was determined that the
wall which divided Mr. Marr's back premises from those of the adjoining
house should be scaled, in order that the cause of the silence might be
ascertained. The watchman, aided by the strangers who had collected near
him, soon made an entrance into Mr. Marr's premises, but on going into
the house a sight met his eyes, before which the stoutest heart would
have quailed. The murdered remains of Mr. Marr and his shop-boy lay
before him in the shop; the body of Mrs. Marr was in the passage, and
that of the infant in its cradle, all warm and all steeped in gore.
The watchman, having recovered from the effect of the stupor which this
horrid sight had produced in his mind, immediately ran to the door, and
having opened it gave an alarm to those outside of the frightful murders
which had been committed. An apprehension was entertained that the
assassins might still be employed in plundering the house, and instant
search was made, but without success; and it was ascertained that the
murderers, intimidated probably by the girl's ringing the bell, had
escaped from the back window, across some mud which lay in the back
yard, and through a way whose intricacies could have been threaded by
none but persons who had previously reconnoitred the situation. In the
mean time the report of the murders had spread like wild-fire, and
thousands of persons collected round the house, notwithstanding the late
hour of the night; but, although many volunteers were found, and an
instant search was made through the whole of the surrounding district,
nothing was discovered which could in the remotest degree afford a clue
to the discovery of the persons implicated in the diabolical
transaction. A minute examination of the house took place when daylight
afforded an opportunity for it to be done with good effect, and then a
ripping chisel or hook, such as are used by carpenters and joiners, was
found lying near the body of Mr. Marr, and some marks of blood were
discovered on the window, through which the murderers had escaped; but
nothing was found which could induce a supposition that any goods or
money had been carried off.
In the mean time the murders had caused a most extraordinary sensation
throughout the metropolis, and various reports were in circulation as to
the manner in which they had been committed; and the most active
inquiries were made with a view to the collection of evidence to be
produced before the coroner's jury. Upon an inquest being held, in
addition to the facts above detailed, it was proved by the servant girl
that, on her quitting her employer's house, her master and the shop-boy
were in the shop, and her mistress and the child were in the kitchen
below; but no facts were proved which could at all lead to the discovery
of the persons implicated in the foul deed. From the testimony of the
girl it was supposed, that very soon after she had quitted home, the
ruffians had entered the shop, probably under pretence of making a
purchase, and, having closed the door, had attacked Mr. Marr, whom they
had knocked down and there killed by cutting his throat. They had next
seized the boy, who apparently had made some resistance, and despatched
him in a similar manner; and Mrs. Marr now coming up stairs to inquire
into the cause of the tumult and confusion which was doubtless created,
she was in turn murdered in the same manner with her husband and the
shop-boy. One would have imagined that the infant in its cradle would
have escaped in this scene of carnage; but it was imagined that it had
cried at being so long left alone, and the blood-thirsty monsters,
afraid lest a discovery should take place in consequence of its calls,
descended and terminated its existence by cutting its throat, so as
almost to sever its head from the body. There being no further evidence
to produce, the inquest was at length, after several adjournments,
concluded, and a verdict of "Wilful murder against some person or
persons unknown," was returned.
The funeral of these victims of villany took place on Sunday the 15th of
December, 1811, at the church of St. George in the East, when the bodies
of the family of Mr. Marr were deposited in one grave, in the presence
of their sorrowing friends, and of an immense concourse of people, by
whom the utmost respect and decorum were exhibited. The body of the
shop-boy was interred by his friends.
Would that our tale of blood could terminate here! It is, however, our
painful task to inform our readers of other murders, taking place under
precisely similar circumstances with those of the Marr family, and
within ten minutes' walk of the place in which they were perpetrated.
The horror and dismay produced by the atrocious event which we have just
detailed had not yet subsided; the exertions of the police to discover
the parties concerned in it had not yet been abated; the earth which had
been thrown over the graves of the unhappy victims was not yet settled,
ere the neighbourhood of Ratcliffe Highway was again the scene of a
crime as horrible as that which still struck terror into the minds of
all persons.
On Thursday night, the 19th of December, the neighbourhood of New
Gravel-lane was thrown into a state of the most violent confusion by
loud cries of "Murder!" proceeding from the King's Arms public-house,
situated at No. 81 in that lane The recollection of the late event was
still fresh in the minds of all, and crowds of persons instantly ran to
the spot to learn the cause of alarm, rendered doubly appalling by
recent circumstances. Nor was the sight which met their eyes at all
calculated to allay the apprehensions which had been raised. A man
almost in a state of nudity was seen descending from the second-floor
window of the house mentioned by means of two sheets tied together, and
exclaiming, with expressions of the most violent agitation and terror,
"They are murdering the people in the house." On his reaching the
extremity of the line which he was using, he was still eight feet from
the ground; but he was assisted in his descent by the watchman, who
received him into his arms, and he then repeated the alarm which he had
already given. The greatest horror was felt at what was supposed to be a
repetition of the frightful scene which had been so recently enacted,
and a short consultation was held as to the best mode of affording
relief to the inmates of the house. It was determined that the most
speedy means must be taken; and, in accordance with a resolution which
was arrived at, an entry was forced through the cellar flap. A man named
Ludgate, a butcher living in Ashwell's Buildings, close by, and a Mr.
Hawse and a constable, were the first persons who entered by this means;
and almost at the same instant a gentleman named Fox obtained admission
through some wooden bars at the side of the house, with a cutlass in his
hand. The first object that was seen in the cellar was the body of Mr.
Williamson, which lay at the foot of the stairs; and on its being
examined, it was found that his throat was dreadfully cut, and that
besides his leg was broken, and he had sustained a severe fracture of
the skull, while the weapon with which he appeared to have been
attacked, an iron crow-bar or maul, was lying at his side. In the
parlour, the body of Mrs. Williamson was found with the skull fractured
and the throat cut, the blood still issuing from the wound, while at her
side lay that of the servant woman, whose head was horribly bruised, and
whose throat was cut in a similar manner.
Surgical aid was instantly procured; but upon the bodies being examined,
it was found that the vital spark had fled.
A new and irresistible feeling of horror now overspread the city of
London and its vicinity, and the utmost apprehension was felt at this
new attack upon a family within its own circle. On the first alarm being
given, a picquet of the Tower Hamlets' Militia, and a number of the
Volunteer Corps, aided by the inhabitants and the constables, made a
most minute search in all quarters for the offenders, but no person
could be discovered to whom suspicion could attach. Upon the premises
being examined, in which the diabolical murders had been committed, it
was found that the under part of the house was used as a skittle-ground,
next to the entrance of which was the cellar-door; and from the bloody
marks which appeared on both doors, it was obvious that the murderers
had attempted to escape by both those means.
It was discovered, also, that the villains had eventually effected their
exit from the house by means of a back window which looked into an open
space belonging to the London Dock Company, from which there was easy
access to many different streets branching off in various directions.
The wounds on the heads of the unfortunate deceased, it was obvious, had
been inflicted by the iron crow-bar which had been found; and from their
position, as well as from the inclination in the cuts in the throats of
the deceased persons, it appeared that the murderer was left-handed.
During the time occupied in the perpetration of the horrid deed, a
public-house, almost adjoining that of Mr. Williamson, was filled with
people drinking, while only a few doors on the other side, there was a
rendezvous for seamen, the windows of both of which looked into the open
ground into which the murderers had escaped.
In the course of the following day the most active measures were taken
to secure the murderers. Police officers were despatched in all
directions; a reward of 100_l_ was offered by the parish for their
apprehension, and the magistrates sat at Shadwell Police-office during
the whole day, ready to receive and act upon any information which might
be brought to them. On the day succeeding, a coroner's inquest was held
upon the bodies of the deceased persons, when Mr. Anderson, constable,
and John Turner, the man who had escaped from the window, were examined.
Mr. Anderson deposed that he was a constable, and knew Mr. and Mrs.
Williamson; they were highly respected in the neighbourhood, and for the
space of fifteen years kept the King's Arms public-house, which was the
resort of foreigners of every description. At eleven o'clock every night
they invariably closed their house. On Thursday night, the 19th of
December 1811, Mr. Williamson pursued his usual course. Ten minutes
before eleven witness called for a pot of beer. During the time Mrs.
Williamson was drawing the beer, Mr. Williamson, who was sitting by the
fire, said to him, "You are an officer--there has been a fellow
listening at my door with a brown coat on; if you should see him, take
him into custody, or tell me." He answered "He certainly would, for his
and his own safety," and then retired. Witness lived next door but one
to the deceased. Between twenty and thirty minutes after he left the
King's Arms, he intended to go for another pot of beer; as soon as he
got out of his house he heard a noise, when he saw the lodger lowering
himself down into the street by the sheets. He ran into the house for
his staff, and proceeded to the spot. The watchman caught the lodger in
his arms, when witness and others broke the cellar-flap open, and,
having descended, began to look round the cellar; on coming to the
staircase, they saw Mr. Williamson lying on his back, with his legs upon
the stairs, his head downwards: by his side was an iron instrument,
similar to a stonemason's crow, about three feet long, in diameter three
quarters of an inch: it was much stained with blood. Mr. Williamson had
received a wound on the head, his throat was dreadfully cut, his right
leg was broken by a blow, and his hand severely cut. From these marks of
violence witness supposed Mr. Williamson made great resistance, as he
was a very powerful man. They then proceeded up into the sitting-room,
where they saw Mrs. Williamson lying on her left side; her skull was
fractured, and her throat cut and bleeding most profusely. Near to her
was the servant woman, lying on her back, with her head under the grate;
her skull was more dreadfully fractured than that of her mistress, her
throat most inhumanly cut, and none of the bodies were cold. Witness
then stated that the premises were afterwards examined, and it was
discovered that the murderers had made their escape from a back window
looking into a piece of waste ground belonging to the London Dock
Company. The sill of the window was stained with blood, and the sash
remained thrown up. The distance which the villains had to jump did not
exceed eight feet, and the ground beneath was soft clay; so they could
sustain no injury even had they fallen. From the waste ground in
question there was no difficulty whatever in escaping, as it
communicated with several by-streets.
John Turner, the man who escaped from the window, and who was a lodger
in the house, deposed as follows:--
"I went to bed about five minutes before eleven o'clock; I had not been
in bed more than five or ten minutes before I heard the cry of 'We shall
all be murdered!' which I suppose was the cry of the woman-servant. I
went down stairs, and saw one of the villains cutting Mrs. Williamson's
throat, and rifling her pockets. I immediately ran up stairs, took up
the sheets from my bed, fastened them together, and lashed them to the
bed-posts; I called to the watchman to give the alarm; I was hanging out
of the front window by the sheets; and the watchman received me in his
arms, naked as I was. A great mob had then assembled opposite the door;
and as soon as I got upon my legs the door was forced open: I entered,
and found the bodies lying as described. There was nobody lodged in the
house but myself, except a grand-daughter of Mrs. Williamson. I have
lived in the house about eight months, and during that time I have found
the family to be the most peaceful people that could keep a
public-house. The man whom I saw rifling Mrs. Williamson's pocket, as
far as I could see by the light in the room, was about six feet in
height, dressed in a genteel style, with a long dark loose coat on. I
said nothing to him; but, terrified, I ran up stairs, and made my escape
as already mentioned. When I was down stairs, I heard two or three very
great sighs; and when I was first alarmed, I heard distinctly the words,
'We shall all be murdered.'" Turner further deposed that, at the time he
went to bed, Mrs. Williamson was on the stairs, taking up a silver
punch-ladle and watch, which were to be raffled for on the following
Monday, into her bedroom for security.
Other witnesses were examined, but their testimony differed in no
material respects from that of the persons whose evidence we have
detailed; and the jury, as in the case of Mr. Marr, returned a verdict
of "Wilful Murder against some person or persons unknown."
After the termination of this necessary inquiry before the coroner,
however, the most minute investigation of every circumstance connected
with this lamentable affair was carried on by the magistrates of
Shadwell. Many persons were taken into custody, but discharged for want
of evidence: but an Irishman, named Cornelius Driscoll, was detained on
suspicion of being implicated in the horrid deed, on account of a pair
of breeches covered with blood being found in his possession.
Of all the persons seized, however, suspicion fell strongest upon a man
named John Williams, who cheated justice by committing suicide before
his guilt or his innocence could be fully established.
This man was apprehended on suspicion of being concerned in the murders;
and on his examination, John Frederick Ritchen, a Dane, who was also in
custody, was sworn as a witness. He stated that he had lodged in the
Pear Tree public-house, kept by Mr. Vermillee, with the prisoner, for
about twelve weeks and three or four days, but knew little of him except
in the light of a fellow-lodger. He knew that he was acquainted with two
men, a carpenter and a joiner, and about three or four weeks before he
had seen them all three drinking together at the bar of the
public-house. On the night of the murder of the Marr family Williams was
out, and a few minutes before he returned there was a knock at the door,
which Mrs. Vermillee opened. The witness had gone down to open the door,
but seeing Mrs. Vermillee, he went up to his own room; and, when there,
heard her in conversation with a man, whose voice resembled that of one
of the two men before mentioned. A few minutes afterwards Williams
himself came in. This was almost half-past one o'clock. Three or four
days before Williams was taken up, he observed that the large
sandy-coloured whiskers, which had before formed a striking feature in
his appearance, had been cut off. About eleven o'clock on the day after
the murder of the Marr family, the witness went from curiosity to
examine the premises, which he entered, and saw the dead bodies. From
thence he returned to the Pear Tree, where he found Williams in the back
yard, washing out his stockings, but he did not tell him where he had
been. He was then questioned respecting his knowledge of the maul, which
is a round bar of iron about an inch in diameter, between two and three
feet in length, flattened at the end into the shape of a chisel, but not
with a cutting edge, being apparently a tool for caulking. He said it
resembled one he had seen about the Pear Tree public-house, but he could
not identify it. A pair of blue woollen trousers, and also a pair of
canvas trousers, were then produced, which had been found between the
mattress and the bed-clothes of the hammock in which the witness slept.
The legs of the blue trousers had evidently been washed, for the purpose
of cleaning them from mud, of which the appearances were still visible
in the creases, which had not been effectually cleansed. These trousers
were damp at the time of the examination; the canvas trousers were also
damp, but they presented no particular appearance. The witness stated
that both these pairs of trousers had formerly belonged to a person
since gone to sea, and he had since worn them himself.
Mrs. Orr, residing near the Pear Tree, stated, that on the Saturday
before Marr's murder, about half-past one o'clock in the morning, she
was getting up linen, when she heard a noise about the house, as if a
man was attempting to break into the house. She was frightened and
asked, "Who was there?" A voice answered, which she knew to be
Williams's, "I am a robber!" She answered, "Whether you are a robber or
not, I will let you in, and am glad to see you." Williams entered,
seating himself till the watchman was calling the hour of past two
o'clock. He then got up from his chair, and asked the landlady if she
would have a glass. She assented, but as he would not go for it, she
went to the Pear Tree public-house, but could gain no admittance. She
returned, when Williams inquired how many rooms there were in her house,
and the situation of her back premises. She replied, there were three
rooms, and that her back yard communicated with Mrs. Vermillee's house.
The watchman came into Mrs. Orr's house, although Williams resisted it
for some time, and he told her that he had picked up a chisel by the
side of her window. Williams ran out unobserved at this information;
soon afterwards he returned. The watchman was going, when Williams
stopped him, and desired him to go to the Pear Tree and get some liquor.
The house was then open. While the watchman was gone for the liquor,
Williams took up the chisel, and said, "D--n my eyes, where did you get
this chisel?" Mrs. Orr did not part with it, and retained the instrument
till the Monday following. Hearing that Williams was examined, she went
to Mrs. Vermillee's, and showed her the chisel.--Mrs. Vermillee looked
at it, and compared it with the tools in one Patterson's chest, when it
was found to bear the same marks, and declared that it was taken out of
her house. Mrs. Orr instantly delivered the chisel to the magistrates of
Shadwell-street office, as being a further trace to the villany. Mrs.
Orr said she knew Williams for eleven weeks; he frequently nursed her
child, and used to joke with her daughter, and once asked her whether
she should be frightened if he came in the dead of the night to her
bedside? The daughter replied, that if it was he who came, she should
not be frightened. They both thought him an agreeable young man, of a
most insinuating address.
In consequence of the information of this witness, a minute examination
of the ripping chisel found at Mr. Marr's took place, and it was found
also to be marked like that discovered by the watchman at Mrs. Orr's.
The husband of Mrs. Vermillee was in custody on suspicion in Newgate,
and he was consulted, and expressed his belief that it was taken from
the same tool chest as that chisel. The plot now seemed to thicken
against the prisoner, and little doubt was entertained of his connexion
with the carpenter and joiner, and of their having all been engaged in
the perpetration of these most horrid murders, when all further efforts
on the part of the police were checked, by his adding another crime to
those which it was fully believed he had already committed, by
destroying himself.
He had been remanded for further examination to Cold Bath Fields Prison,
and the police of the district had redoubled their exertions to detect
and bring to justice his accomplices. Mr. Vermillee had been ordered to
be set at liberty, in order that he might give evidence upon the day of
the next inquiry before the magistrates, when, on the very morning on
which the prisoner was to be carried before the magistrates, upon the
gaoler going to call him from his cell, in order that he might prepare
himself to be carried to the Police Office, he was found, heavily ironed
as he was, suspended by a handkerchief from a beam in the apartment in
which he was confined. He was instantly cut down, but upon his body
being examined, it was found that he was quite dead and cold, and that
he had evidently been hanging during several hours.
The excitement produced by this termination of the investigation would
be difficult to describe, but all persons now expressed their full
belief that the deceased prisoner was the author of the crimes which had
attracted such universal attention. An inquest was held upon his body,
and a verdict of _felo de se_ was returned by the jury, but now became a
question, how the public indignation could best be satisfied? The rule
in such cases was that the deceased should be buried in the nearest
cross roads, but a conference was held with the Home Secretary by Mr.
Capper, the magistrate, with the view of ascertaining how far this
regulation might be departed from, at which it was determined that a
public exhibition of the body should be made through the neighbourhood
which had been the scene of the monster's crimes. In conformity with
this decision, on the 31st of December, the body of the deceased was
privately removed from the prison at eleven o'clock at night, and
conveyed to St. George's watchhouse, near the London docks, and on the
following (Tuesday) morning, at half-past ten o'clock, a procession was
formed in the following order:--
Several hundred constables, with their staves, clearing the way.
The newly-formed patrole, with drawn cutlasses.
Another body of constables.
Parish officers of St. Georgeâs, St. Paulâs, and Shadwell,
on horseback. Peace-officers, on horseback.
Constables.
The high constable of the county of Middlesex, on horseback.
The body of Williams,
Extended at full length on an inclined platform, erected on the
cart, about four feet high at the head, and gradually sloping
towards the horse, giving a full view of the body, which was
dressed in blue trousers and a white and blue striped waistcoat,
but without a coat, as when found in the cell. On the left side of
the head the fatal maul, and on the right the ripping-chisel, with
which the murders were perpetrated, were exposed to view. The
countenance of Williams was ghastly in the extreme, and the whole
had an appearance too horrible for description.
A strong body of constables brought up the rear.
The procession advanced slowly up Ratcliffe Highway, accompanied by an
immense concourse of persons, eager to get a sight of the murderer's
remains. When the cart came opposite to the late Mr. Marr's house, a
halt was made for near a quarter of an hour. The procession then moved
down Old Gravel-lane, along Wapping, up New Crane-lane, and into New
Gravel-lane. When the platform arrived at Mr. Williamson's late house, a
second halt took place. It then proceeded up the hill, and again entered
Ratcliffe Highway, down which it moved into Cannon-street, and advanced
to St. George's turnpike, where the New Road is intersected by
Cannon-street. There a grave, about six feet deep, had been prepared,
immediately over which the main water-pipe runs. Between twelve and one
o'clock the body was taken from the platform, and lowered into the
grave, immediately after which a stake was driven through it; and, the
pit being covered, this ceremony concluded.
During the last half-hour the crowd had increased immensely--they poured
in from all parts, but their demeanour was perfectly quiet. All the
shops in the neighbourhood were shut, and the windows and tops of the
houses were crowded with spectators. On every side, mingled with
execrations of the murderer, were heard fervent prayers for the speedy
detection of his accomplices.
A conclusive evidence of the guilt of this wretched suicide was
afterwards found, in the discovery of a knife which he always carried
with him, concealed in a hole in the room which he occupied, encrusted
with blood.
Fearful as were the horrid crimes committed by this blood-thirsty
assassin, they were not without their good effect in the metropolis. The
sensation produced by the murders awakened the apprehension of all
persons for their own safety; and local meetings were held in the
various parishes of the metropolis, at which resolutions were passed, in
pursuance of which a system of police was established far more complete
than that which before existed, although still infinitely inferior in
point of regularity and competence to that which within the last eleven
years has been adopted and carried out to the admiration of the
civilised world.
WILLIAM HEBBERFIELD.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The prosecution of this prisoner arose out of a desire on the part of
the Bank of England to put a stop to the most dangerous and hurtful
system of forgery which existed about this time in the city of London.
It appears that the prisoner had long been known as a dealer in forged
notes; but he had contrived to elude the vigilance of the officers
employed, although he rendered himself liable to punishment for the part
which he took in a conspiracy for aiding the escape of General Austin, a
French officer, a prisoner of war in this country, on his parole, for
which he was sentenced by the Court of King's Bench to two years'
imprisonment in Newgate. Even while in that jail, however, he continued
to carry on the trade in forged notes; and this being communicated to
the officers of the bank, they determined upon a plan to secure his
conviction. A prisoner named Barry, who was in the House of Correction
undergoing an imprisonment for passing counterfeit dollars, was selected
as the agent, and on the 23d of September he was conducted in a
hackney-coach to Newgate, accompanied by Mr. Weston, the principal clerk
to Mr. Freshfield, the bank solicitor, and by Beckett, one of the
turnkeys, by whom he was provided with 8_l._ in good 1_l._-notes. On
their arrival at the prison, Barry was shown into the prisoner's room,
where he found a number of other persons. He directly went to the
prisoner, and without saying anything, gave him six of the notes which
he had received, and which were all marked. The prisoner returned three,
saying that he should not have enough of the other notes until the next
day; but in lieu of the others, which he kept, he handed over forged
notes of the nominal value of 6_l._ Barry immediately carried these
notes to Mr. Weston, who remained outside; and Beckett, accompanied by
Brown and another officer, went into the prisoner's chamber, and asked
him to produce what property he had about him. The prisoner directly
took from one pocket a handful of gold, from another a pocket-book
filled with bank-notes, from another a quantity of loose bank-notes, and
he also produced a stocking stuffed with the like currency. Beckett, on
examining these notes, and not perceiving amongst them any of the marked
ones he sought for, told the prisoner he had some more, and desired him
to produce them; upon which the prisoner took some other notes from his
side-pocket, and laid them on the bed where he was sitting. Beckett took
those up, and they proved to be the marked notes. He said these were
what he wanted, and returned the prisoner the rest; upon which the
prisoner, probably anticipating his purpose, snatched the notes, and
thrust them into the fire. Beckett's assistant, however, rescued them
from the flames, and they were proved to be the same which Barry had
paid him just before; and the notes Barry received in lieu were also
proved to be forgeries.
The prisoner upon being indicted for this offence was found guilty and
sentenced to death, in pursuance of which he was executed on the 2nd
November 1811.
So great was the increase of these frauds upon the public, that between
the year 1797 and 1811, no fewer than 471 persons were prosecuted to
conviction for forging, or uttering, or possessing forged notes. The
total amount of notes thus put off it is of course impossible to
calculate with any certainty, but discoveries were made which showed the
system to exist to an extent almost incredible.
JOHN CLAYTON AND WILLIAM JENKINS.
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
The activity, daring, and ingenuity of the London "cracksmen" is well
exemplified in the following case:--
It appears that Reid, a constable belonging to Perry's party of patrole,
received information from a person technically called a "nose,"--that
is, an informer or spy,--that a set was made at the house of a Mrs.
Martin, a lady residing at No. 4, Bury Street, St. James's, by a party
of thieves, who had derived sufficient knowledge of the customs of the
house from the servant girl, Mary Wakelin, to induce them to suppose
that the robbery would be a profitable speculation. Their mode of making
themselves acquainted with this circumstance was this:--The girl, like
most others of her condition and years, was vain of her personal charms,
and the prisoner Clayton was a young man of pleasing manners and
insinuating address. The "crack" was fixed upon, and Clayton was set to
work upon the girl's vanity, and so obtain the necessary information to
enable his assistants and associates to complete it cleverly. He
addressed her one evening at the public-house to which she was in the
habit of going to fetch her mistress's beer, and having passed a few
encomiums upon her beauty, was soon admitted into conversation. The
impression which he made was not unfavourable, and he was too good a
judge to allow an opportunity to pass, by which he might benefit
himself. Day after day he was found at the same place, and each day he
was more attentive than the last; and the girl at length looked upon him
in the light of a suitor. He informed her that he was a trunk-maker
living in Oxford Street, and in return obtained information that her
mistress was in the habit of visiting the theatres or some other place
of public amusement nearly every night. He did not fail to improve upon
his acquaintance at every fresh interview, and at length a Monday
evening was fixed upon, when the lover was to be admitted to spend an
hour with the girl in the kitchen during her mistress's absence. It was
at this period that the officers gained information of the intended
robbery; and they in consequence obtained permission to occupy a room
opposite to Mrs. Martin's house, from which they could witness all that
passed. Half-past eight o'clock was the time appointed by Mary to see
her swain, and the constables took care to be as punctual as he. A few
minutes before the time, accordingly, they saw four men and two women
arrive at the spot, from whom Clayton separated himself and went and
knocked at the door. He was, however, doomed to be disappointed. The
mistress was unwell and could not go out, and therefore, with a kiss or
two, and an affectionate hug, the sweethearts were obliged to part, not,
however, without fixing the next Tuesday to carry out their design.
Tuesday night came, and the officers were again at their post; but the
loving pair separated after taking a little gin together. Wednesday
evening passed in the same manner, Mrs. Martin being still too unwell to
go out; and notwithstanding the most praiseworthy attention on the part
of the supposed trunk-maker to his inamorata, every evening until the
following Tuesday passed in the same way, the professions of inviolable
attachment made by the tender-hearted youth growing each night more
strong, and his anxiety to enter the house increasing at every meeting.
On the Tuesday night, however, the girl told Clayton that her mistress
was so much recovered, that she expected she would be well enough to go
the following night to the play, and on Wednesday night, about eight
o'clock, Mrs. Martin, accompanied by a male and female friend, went in a
coach to the theatre. In a few minutes after, the servant girl came out,
and returned shortly with Clayton, arm in arm together. They talked
together several minutes at the door, and then went in. In about a
quarter of an hour after, Clayton came out, and returned in about five
minutes, accompanied by another man. Clayton knocked at the door, and
the girl opened it. She appeared to refuse to let the other man in; but
Clayton forced open the door, and the other man rushed in. The officers,
who had been upon the close watch every night, then went over to the
house, and heard all three talking very loud in the kitchen. From the
noise, and what they saw through a keyhole, they ascertained that the
two men were dragging the girl up stairs against her will, and she was
exclaiming, "Lord have mercy upon me! what shall I do?" One of the men
told her if she made such a noise he would blow her brains out, and
presented a pistol to her head, and kept it there. They forced her up
stairs, and the officers heard doors being broken open, &c., and, in a
few minutes after, the second man came down stairs, and returned with
the kitchen poker. They then heard other doors break open; but not
hearing the noise of the girl continued, the officers were afraid she
was being murdered, and were proceeding to force the street-door with an
iron crow, when the girl exclaimed it was her mistress, gave a sudden
spring, released herself from her assailants, ran down stairs, with the
robbers after her: and they got into the passage just as the officers
had entered. Clayton and Jenkins appeared as if nothing had happened,
and wanted to get out; but Perry and Reid seized them. The villains made
a most desperate resistance, which they were enabled to do, being very
tall, stout, powerful men; but they were eventually secured. On
searching Clayton, a large clasp knife and a bad dollar were found. On
Jenkins were found a pistol, two bad dollars, &c. On examining the
house, the officers discovered that a large quantity of property had
been packed up, ready to be carried off. Several rooms and closets were
broken open, and the thieves were in the act of breaking open a chest
when they were disturbed.
The trial of these desperadoes came on at the Old Bailey, on the 15th of
January, when Mary Wakelin, before named, deposed that she first became
acquainted with the prisoner Clayton about eight or ten days before the
1st of January; he then came to her mistress's house, when she answered
the door, and told her his name was Wilson, and that he had a letter for
Mrs. Martin, which was the name her mistress went by. A night or two
afterwards he threw things down the area. Her mistress sent her out with
a message, and she then saw Clayton, who asked her to take something to
drink, which she at first refused; but upon his insisting they went and
had something to drink. She saw him a night or two afterwards in the
streets, as she went out on an errand, and frequently after that; but
she never saw the prisoner Jenkins till the night of the 1st of January.
The jury found both the prisoners Guilty, and they were sentenced to
death.
The fearful sentence was carried into effect on the scaffold before the
Debtor's door, Newgate, on the 19th February 1812, at the usual hour,
and with the accustomed solemnity. Clayton was twenty-eight years of
age, and Jenkins thirty-five.
After the culprits had been divested of their irons, Clayton observed to
Jenkins it was an awful moment, and he exhorted him to cheer his
spirits, and die with manly fortitude--adding that the sentence was
just, and trusting their example would warn others against keeping bad
company.
DANIEL DAWSON.
EXECUTED FOR POISONING RACE-HORSES.
This fellow had long exercised the business of a _tout_ to betting-men
of an inferior class on the Turf, obtaining for them such information
from the grooms and other persons employed about the racing-stables as
he conceived they might deem useful; when having got together a little
money, he thought that he might be able to employ his information to his
own advantage, and he therefore turned betting-man himself. He was a man
utterly devoid of education, and therefore unfit to mix among the
_gentlemen_ of his class; and being confined to the society of grooms
and other persons of "low degree," he imbibed none of those principles
of "honour" for which the speculators on racing and other gambling
events are generally proverbial. In order then to make sure of winning
his bets, he determined to render the horses unfit for running, by
drugging them. In this practice he continued until April 1811, when he
conveyed a large quantity of the solution of arsenic into a watering
trough, from which two horses belonging to Lord Foley and Sir F.
Standish had to drink.
The drug being too powerful to produce that effect only which was
requisite, the horses died, and suspicion falling upon Dawson and a
companion of his named Cecil Bishop, they were taken into custody.
Bishop immediately made a full confession, and accused Dawson of having
poisoned another horse in the year 1809, belonging to a Mr. Adams at
Royston, and he made such disclosures as established a chain of evidence
which left no doubt of the truth of his story. He was therefore admitted
as a witness, and his companion was committed to take his trial at the
ensuing Lent Assizes at Cambridge. It there turned out, that instead of
being a principal as he was charged, he was an accessary only, and he
was acquitted; but he was detained in custody upon another charge of
poisoning race-horses in the year 1809. He was arraigned upon a second
indictment therefore at the Assizes held in August 1812, and upon this
he was found guilty and sentenced to death. For some time after his
conviction, he entertained hopes that his life would be spared, and Lord
Foley, in consequence of some communications which he received from
him, was induced to second his application for mercy. This, however, was
attended with no good effect, and the wretched culprit was left for
execution. Determined not to throw away all chances, he resolved to
attempt to escape from custody, and he wrote to his wife in the
following terms, in order to procure some assistance to enable him to
complete his design.
"DEAR WIFE,--I learn by yours, I am in danger; but I have another way of
escape without fear of being discovered.--You go to a tool-shop, and get
a small back saw, as the watch-makers use, the smaller the better, to
convey to me: the best way you can get it in will be between some turf,
with some black thread; if you can find a better way, do it; but be
careful, for all the danger is to get that to me, for I have but one bar
to cut, and I am in town by four o'clock in the morning. They will not
miss me till eight, when they come to unlock us. I shall be by that out
of their reach. Dear girl, bring me the turf six pieces at a time. When
I have got the saw, I must have some friend come round to see the
Castle, but take no notice of me, but to see the situation; I am in full
north; and come again in one hour after we lock up; bring rope enough to
reach over the wall, and he stand on the other side, and hold it till I
am up the wall. Fasten a large spike to the end of the rope, and throw
it over the wall, and tie knots about nine inches asunder to hold by,
and about twenty-five feet long. There is no danger in this, for there
is nobody inside after we come to bed. A rainy night will be best; but I
will let you know the night by another line. Mr. Prince says he has got
a very respectable man, who will come forward and swear to everything of
the concern, all but seeing it put in. If anybody can be found to write
to Lord F. 0. (alluding to a threat), it will have great effect. Mr. J.
B. South-street Grosvenor Square, Mr. B. King's Mews, Elbs (meaning
Theobald's) Road, Gray's-Inn Lane, have a good look out, if there is any
danger. I shall soon be along with you, with a little of your
assistance; by applying to the people above mentioned you will get good
intelligence. When you write, direct your letters to Mrs. Howell's
sister. When you come, ask me for my pocket-book, and I can give you all
at once. I shall call them things breeches and coat, so you will know."
This letter was detected in the hand of his wife, by the jailer, whose
suspicions were excited by the circumstance of their parting on this
occasion with more than usual emotion; and baffled in all his schemes,
he for a time indulged the criminal design of taking away his own life,
but from which he was persuaded by the pious exhortations of the
chaplain. Seeing no hopes of either mercy or escape, he resigned himself
to his fate, but persisted in denying having intended to destroy the
horses, as he only wanted to incapacitate them from winning.
Dawson spent his last days in all the fervency of prayer, and expressed
his pious hope in the forgiveness of the Almighty. The last parting from
his wife was truly affecting, and he described it as worse than death.
The night before his execution he slept soundly, and ate, next morning,
a hearty breakfast. Previous to his receiving the sacrament he tied a
yard of black ribbon round his neck, which, at his dying request, was
conveyed to his afflicted wife. At twelve o'clock he was led to the
platform, on the top of Cambridge Castle, and was turned off amidst an
immense concourse of spectators, it being market-day. He died without a
struggle.
THE MARQUIS OF SLIGO.
FINED AND IMPRISONED FOR ENTICING SEAMEN TO DESERT HIS MAJESTY'S NAVY.
In 1810, the noble marquis, then a thoughtless young man, quitted
college, and proceeded on his travels, visiting those places in person,
of whose ancient fame and greatness he had read so much. Being partial
to marine excursions, and willing to indulge himself in one in the
Mediterranean, he hired, at Malta, a brig called the Pylades; and having
been introduced to Captain Sprainger, of the Warrior, then on that
station, he received from that naval officer much information and
kindness.
The noble marquis being frequently rowed to and from the Warrior by some
of her athletic crew, seems to have thought the addition of a few of
these fine fellows a desirable acquisition to his handful of Italians.
Accordingly it appears that he succeeded in inducing two of them to join
his crew, upon which suspicion fell upon his lordship; for it was
supposed no ordinary inducement had been held out to them, as they were
men of tried fidelity, long standing, and had then three years' arrears
of wages due to them. Captain Sprainger paid the marquis a visit on
board the Pylades; and, on hinting his suspicions, his lordship appeared
greatly hurt; upon which the captain, from their intimacy, contented
himself with cautioning his noble friend upon the danger of having
deserters on board, as the navy was very low, being nearly two thousand
under its complement. He then left the marquis, and from his own ship
sent him a description of the men missing, requesting that if they
offered themselves to his lordship, they might be sent to some of his
majesty's ships at Malta.
Next day the Warrior sailed; and the noble marquis resolved that his
brig should be a letter of marque, for the purpose of upholding the
honour of the British flag. For the business of navigation, a
comparatively few men would have done; but in this new capacity he
required at least forty. To procure these was no very difficult task on
a station where men were hourly in the habit of quitting their ships;
and his lordship's servant, in the course of an evening or two, added
fourteen brave fellows to their complement.
On the 13th of May his lordship sailed to Palermo, and from thence to
Messina, where, on pledging his word of honour that he had no deserters
on board, he received a six months' protection for forty men, having
inserted false names for the men-of-war's men. The Pylades then
proceeded on her course, and on the 30th of May she was chased by the
Active, an officer of that ship having heard that deserters were on
board. Ere the boat came alongside, his lordship ordered the
men-of-war's men below, and, though a search took place, they escaped
detection.
The marquis next sailed to Patmos, where ten of the men were allowed to
go on shore, and that evening the vessel sailed without them. The
abandoned men appear to have suffered great hardship; and at Scio, when
accompanied by the British consul to the Pylades, his lordship refused
to receive any of them except four, who were useful in the management of
the vessel. Some of the men returned to their duty, and were tried by a
court martial. From Constantinople the marquis wrote to Captain
Sprainger, stating that he found he had some of his men on board, and
that he was determined to send them on shore the first opportunity; that
if the business was brought into a court, he would do the best to defend
himself; and that, at the worst, he had an ample fortune, and could pay
the fines.
Tired with travelling, his lordship returned home, and soon after his
arrival in England he was indicted for enticing British seamen from
their duty. The trial came on at the Old Bailey, December 16th 1812,
when, after a protracted inquiry, his lordship was found Guilty, and
sentenced to pay a fine of five thousand pounds, and to be imprisoned
four months in Newgate.
Perhaps it is not the least curious particular attending this case, that
his lordship's mother, the Dowager Marchioness of Sligo, soon after her
son's trial, was married to Sir William Scott, the judge who passed
sentence on the youthful marquis.
JOHN BELLINGHAM.
EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SPENCER PERCEVAL.
On the 11th of May, in the year 1812, an event occurred which excited
universal dismay and regret in the minds of the whole of the British
public--the death of the Right Honourable Spencer Perceval, then
Chancellor of the Exchequer, by the hand of an assassin.
John Bellingham, the author of this crime, was brought up in a
counting-house in London, and afterwards went to Archangel, where he
lived during a period of three years in the service of a Russian
merchant. Having returned to England, he was married to a Miss Nevill,
the daughter of a respectable merchant and ship-broker, who at that time
resided at Newry, but who subsequently removed to Dublin. Bellingham,
being a person of active habits and of considerable intelligence, was
subsequently employed by some merchants in the Russian trade, by whom he
was induced again to visit Archangel, and he in consequence proceeded
thither, accompanied by his wife, in the year 1804. His principal
dealings were with the firm of Dorbecker and Co.; but before twelve
months had expired, a misunderstanding arose between them, and each
party made pecuniary claims upon the other. The subject was referred by
the Governor-General to the decision of four merchants, two of whom
Bellingham was allowed to select from his countrymen resident on the
spot, and by the award of these arbitrators Bellingham was found to be
indebted to the house of Dorbecker and Co. in the sum of two thousand
roubles; but this sum he refused to pay, and appealed to the senate
against the decision.
In the mean time, a criminal suit had been instituted against him by the
owners of a Russian ship which had been lost in the White Sea. They
accused him of having written an anonymous letter to the underwriters in
London, stating that the insurances of that ship were fraudulent
transactions; in consequence of which the payment for her loss was
resisted. No satisfactory proof being adduced, Bellingham was acquitted:
but before the termination of the suit, he attempted to quit Archangel,
and being stopped by the police, whom he resisted, he was taken to
prison, but was soon after liberated, through the influence of the
British consul, Sir Stephen Shairp, to whom he had made application,
requesting to be protected from what he considered the injustice of the
Russian authorities.
Soon after this the senate confirmed the award of the arbitrators, and
Bellingham was delivered over to the College of Commerce, a tribunal
established, and acknowledged by treaty, for taking cognizance of
commercial matters relating to British subjects. He was to remain in
custody till he discharged the debt of the two thousand roubles; but his
confinement was by no means severe; for he had permission to walk
wherever he pleased, attended by an officer belonging to the college.
Lord Granville Leveson Gower being at this time ambassador at the
Russian Court, Bellingham made frequent application, and, at various
times, received from his secretary small sums of money to support him
during his confinement. One night, in particular, he rushed into his
lordship's house at St. Petersburgh, and requested permission to remain
all night, to avoid being secured by the police, whom he had escaped.
This was granted, although Lord Gower had no authority to protect him
from a legal arrest; but it appears he was afterwards retaken, and being
confined by the authorities of the country, the British ambassador could
have no pretence to solicit his release. His lordship, however, in a
conversation with the minister for foreign affairs, expressed a personal
wish that the Russian Government, seeing no prospect of recovering the
money from Bellingham, would liberate him on condition of his
immediately returning to England; but we are not told what effect was
produced, as Lord Gower soon after quitted the Russian Court.
The foregoing is taken from the statement published by Lord Granville
Leveson Gower, in his own justification, against the charge made against
him by Bellingham on his trial; and we hope, for the honour of our
country, that it is correct; and we must confess that a review of all
the circumstances tends to confirm its accuracy. Our ambassador, it is
admitted, had the case investigated; and as his refusal to interfere was
subsequently confirmed by that of the English Government, it is evident
that Bellingham could have had no just cause of complaint, or, at least,
none of a nature to call for diplomatic negotiation or pecuniary
recompense. In justice to the unfortunate man, we shall, when we come to
his trial, give his own statement, and leave the reader to draw his own
conclusion.
Bellingham having, by some means or other, procured his liberation, in
the year 1809 returned to England, and at Liverpool commenced the
business of an insurance broker. It appears, however, that from a
constant recital of the circumstances which had occurred in Russia, his
complaints were aggravated in his own mind into grievances, and he at
length began to talk of demanding redress from the Government for what
he termed and appeared to consider the culpable misconduct of their
officer, Lord Gower, and his secretary, in omitting to defend his rights
as a British subject; and he eventually wrote to the Marquis Wellesley,
setting forth the nature of his case, and the grounds upon which he
expected that some compensation would be made. By the noble marquis he
was referred to the Privy Council, and by that body to the Treasury; but
his efforts being unattended with success in either quarter, he
determined to proceed to the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Mr.
Perceval), with a view to obtain his sanction and support for his
demand. Mr. Perceval, however, having made himself master of the case
submitted to him, declined to interfere, and Mr. Bellingham was then
advised by his friends that the only resource left to him was a petition
to parliament. As an inhabitant of Liverpool, he applied to General
Gascoyne, then member for that city, to present a petition to the house
of commons; but that honourable gentleman having ascertained upon
inquiry that the case was unsupported by the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, he refused to have anything to do with it. Driven now to
pursue a course quite unusual in such cases, he petitioned the Prince
Regent, but from him he was referred again to the Treasury, and he again
received an intimation that all applications from him must be futile.
Three years had now been spent in these constant and fruitless attacks
upon the government, but the unfortunate and misguided gentleman
appeared even yet to cherish hopes that his case would be attended to.
On one occasion, it is reported that he carried his wife, who had in
vain striven to wean him from what she considered to be his malady, and
another lady, to the secretary of state's office for the purpose of
showing them the success with which his exertions were attended; and
although he then, as he had before, received a flat denial of his
claims, yet he continued to assure them that he did not in the least
doubt that ere long all his hopes would be made good, and he would
receive compensation for his sufferings.
He now adopted a new and certainly an unprecedented mode of attack. He
wrote to the police magistrates of Bow-street in the following terms:--
"To their Worships, the Police Magistrates of the Public Office in
Bow-street.
"SIRS,--I much regret its being my lot to have to apply to your worships
under most peculiar and novel circumstances.--For the particulars of the
case, I refer to the enclosed letter of Mr. Secretary Ryder, the
notification from Mr. Perceval, and my petition to parliament, together
with the printed papers herewith. The affair requires no further remark,
than that I consider his majesty's government to have completely
endeavoured to close the door of justice, in declining to have, or even
to permit, my grievances to be brought before parliament, for redress,
which privilege is the birthright of every individual. The purport of
the present is, therefore, once more to solicit his majesty's ministers,
through your medium, to let what is right and proper be done in my
instance, which is all I require. Should this reasonable request be
finally denied, I shall then feel justified in executing justice
myself--in which case I shall be ready to argue the merits of so
reluctant a measure with his majesty's attorney-general, wherever and
whenever I may be called upon so to do in the hopes of averting so
abhorrent, but compulsive an alternative, I have the honour to be, Sirs,
your very humble and obedient servant,
"JOHN BELLINGHAM."
"No. 9, New Millman-street, March 23, 1812."
This letter was at once conveyed to the members of the government, but
it was treated by them as a mere threat, and no further notice was taken
of it, than on Mr. Bellingham's again presenting himself, by a fresh
refusal being given to him by Mr. Read. Once more he applied to the
Treasury, and again he was told that he had nothing to expect; and
according to his statement, Mr. Hill, whom he now saw, told him that he
might "resort to whatever measures he thought fit." This he declared he
considered "a _carte blanche_ to take justice into his own hands," and
he accordingly determined to take such measures of revenge as he madly
supposed would effectually secure that attention and consideration for
his case, which he deemed it had not received, and to which it was in
his opinion fully entitled.
This unhappy determination being made, he began to make the necessary
preparations for the foul deed which he contemplated. His first step was
to make himself acquainted with the persons of those ministers who had
seats in the House of Commons, and for this purpose he nightly visited
the House and there usually took his seat in the gallery appropriated to
strangers; and having obtained a general knowledge of their persons, he
afterwards posted himself in the lobby of the House, in order to be able
to identify them. He then purchased a pair of pistols, with powder and
ball, and had an additional pocket made in his coat for carrying them
the more conveniently.
On the evening of the 11th of May, 1812, he took his station behind the
folding-doors leading into the body of the House, and at five o'clock,
as Mr. Perceval advanced up the lobby, he presented one of his pistols
and fired. His aim was true, and the ball entered the left breast of his
victim and passed through his heart. Mr. Perceval reeled a short
distance, and exclaiming "Murder!" in a low tone of voice, he fell to
the ground. He was instantly picked up by Mr. Smith, the member for
Norwich, and another gentleman, and carried into the office of the
speaker's secretary, where he expired almost immediately. Loud cries of
"Shut the door--let no one out," were heard immediately after the shot
was fired, and several persons exclaimed, "Where's the murderer?"
Bellingham, who still held the pistol in his hand, answered, "I am the
unfortunate man," and he was immediately seized and searched. Mr. V. G.
Dowling was among the first who went up to him; and on his examining his
person, he found in his left-hand trousers pocket a pistol loaded with
ball and primed. There were also found upon him an opera-glass, with
which he had been accustomed to examine the persons of the members of
the House while sitting in the gallery, and a number of papers. Upon his
being interrogated as to his motives for committing such an act, he
replied, "Want of redress, and denial of justice."
During the momentary confusion which followed the firing of the pistol,
he made no attempt to escape; and though when taken into custody he
betrayed some agitation, he soon recovered his self-possession, and with
great calmness answered every question put to him.
During his examination before the magistrates up-stairs in the House of
Commons, he still retained his self-possession, and even corrected a
witness as to an omission in his evidence. He persisted in denying any
personal enmity to Mr. Perceval, for whose death he expressed the
greatest sorrow, separating, by a confusion of ideas, the man from the
minister; and seemed to think he had not injured the individual, though
he had taken away the life of the chancellor of the exchequer.
This event excited the greatest sensation in the country. A cabinet
council was called, and the mails were stopped, until instructions were
[Illustration: _Assassination of Perceval._
_P. 530_]
prepared to secure tranquillity in the districts; for at first it was
apprehended that the assassin was instigated by political motives, and
that he was connected with some treasonable association.
Measures being provided for securing order through the country and the
metropolis, Bellingham was removed, under a strong military escort,
about one o'clock in the morning, to Newgate, and conducted to a room
adjoining the chapel. One of the head turnkeys, and two other persons,
sat up with him all night. He retired to bed soon after his arrival at
the jail; but he was disturbed during the night, and had no sound sleep.
He rose soon after seven o'clock, and requested some tea for breakfast,
of which, however, he took but little. No private persons were admitted
to see him, but he was visited in the course of the day by the sheriffs
and some other public functionaries. He conversed very cheerfully with
the sheriffs and others who were in his room, and expressed no regret
for the deed which he had perpetrated, conceiving himself, as he stated,
justified in what he had done; and that it now only remained for the
laws of his country to determine the nature of his guilt, which he did
not seem to view in a criminal light. He stated that the question would
soon be tried, when it would be seen how far he was justified. He
considered the whole as "a private matter between him and the
government, who gave him a _carte blanche_ to do his worst, which he had
done."
Alderman Combe, as one of the committing magistrates, was very active in
his endeavours to trace Bellingham's connexions and habits, and for that
purpose went to the house of a respectable woman where he lodged in New
Millman-street, but could learn from her nothing that indicated any
conspiracy with others. His landlady represented him as a quiet
inoffensive man, though at times rather eccentric, which she instanced
by observing, that when he had lodged there only three weeks, at 10_s._
6_d._ per week, she was surprised to find that he had given her
servant-maid half-a-guinea for herself. On being told the deed which he
had perpetrated at five o'clock, on Monday the 11th of May, 1812, she
said that was impossible; for that she had met him a few minutes before
that time, when he told her, that he had just been to buy a prayer-book.
She represented him as of a religious turn of mind.
In jail the prisoner requested to have pen, ink, and paper, to write
some letters to his friends; and he accordingly wrote one to his family
at Liverpool, which was delivered open to Mr. Newman. The following was
sent to Mrs. Roberts, No. 9, New Millman-street, the lady at whose house
he lodged. It will serve to show the state of his mind in the miserable
situation to which he had reduced himself:
"Tuesday morning, Old Bailey.
"DEAR MADAM,--Yesterday midnight I was escorted to this neighbourhood by
a noble troop of Light Horse, and delivered into the care of Mr. Newman
(by Mr. Taylor, the magistrate, and M. P.) as a state prisoner of the
first class. For eight years I have never found my mind so tranquil as
since this melancholy but necessary catastrophe: as the merits or
demerits of my peculiar case must be regularly unfolded in a criminal
court of justice to ascertain the guilty party, by a jury of my country.
I have to request the favour of you to send me three or four shirts,
some cravats, handkerchiefs, night-caps, stockings, &c., out of my
drawers, together with comb, soap, tooth-brush, with any other trifle
that presents itself which you think I may have occasion for, and
inclose them in my leather trunk, and the key please to send sealed, per
bearer; also my great-coat, flannel gown, and black waistcoat: which
will much oblige,
"Dear madam, your very obedient servant,
"JOHN BELLINGHAM.
"To the above please to add the prayer-books.
"TO MRS. ROBERTS."
Soon after two o'clock the wretched prisoner ate a hearty dinner, and
requested that in future he might dine at about the same hour; and after
passing the rest of the day in a tranquil manner, he retired to bed at
twelve, and slept until seven the next morning, being attended by two
persons during the night. He breakfasted at about nine o'clock, and
appeared perfectly composed; and on the sheriffs revisiting him,
accompanied by several gentlemen, he was found to be unaltered in his
demeanour. On his being spoken to on the subject of his trial, he
conversed with apparent indifference; but on the melancholy fact of Mr.
Perceval's murder being alluded to, he became less tranquil, persisted
in vindicating the act, and said that when his trial came on before a
jury of his countrymen, it would be for them to determine how far a
minister of the crown was justified in refusing justice to an injured
individual; and he declared that if he had a thousand lives to lose, he
would have risked them in pursuit of justice in the same way. He spoke
of the result of his trial with the utmost confidence; and on his being
asked whether he had any commands to his wife at Liverpool, he declared
that he had not, and that in a day or two he should join her in that
city.
On the 15th of May, 1812, four days after the death of Mr. Perceval, the
trial of the prisoner came on at the Old Bailey. The judges at ten
o'clock took their seats on each side of the lord mayor; and the
recorder, the Duke of Clarence, the Marquis Wellesley, and almost all
the aldermen of the city of London, occupied the bench. The court was
crowded to excess, and no distinction of rank was observed; so that
members of the house of commons were forced to mingle in the throng.
There were also present a great number of ladies, all led by the most
intense curiosity to behold the assassin, and to hear what he might urge
in defence or in palliation of his atrocious act.
At length Bellingham appeared, and advanced to the bar with a firm step,
and quite undismayed. He bowed to the court most respectfully, and even
gracefully; and it is impossible to describe the impression which his
appearance, accompanied by this unexpected fortitude, produced. He was
dressed in a light brown surtout coat, and striped yellow waistcoat; his
hair plainly dressed, and without powder.
Before the prisoner was called on regularly to plead, Mr. Alley, his
counsel, made application to have the trial postponed, for the purpose
of procuring proofs of his client's insanity, which was alleged in two
affidavits he held; and he said that he had no doubt, if time were
allowed, that the prisoner could be proved to be insane. Mr. Alley was
here interrupted by the court, who refused to hear him until the
prisoner had first pleaded.
When the indictment was read, the usual question, "Guilty, or not
guilty?" was put to Bellingham; when he addressed the court:--"My
lords,--Before I can plead to this indictment, I must state, in justice
to myself, that by hurrying on my trial I am placed in a most
remarkable situation. It so happens that my prosecutors are actually the
witnesses against me. All the documents on which alone I could rest my
defence have been taken from me, and are now in possession of the crown.
It is only two days since I was told to prepare for my defence; and when
I asked for my papers, I was told they could not be given up. It is
therefore, my lords, rendered utterly impossible for me to go into my
justification; and under the circumstances in which I find myself, a
trial is absolutely useless. The papers are to be given to me after the
trial, but how can that avail me for my defence? I am, therefore, not
ready for my trial."
The attorney-general was proceeding to explain to the court what had
been done with reference to the prisoner's papers, when--
Chief-justice Mansfield interrupted him, observing, it was necessary the
prisoner should first plead.
The prisoner was again interrogated, when he pleaded "Not guilty" to
both counts of the indictment.
The attorney-general--"I will now answer what has fallen from the
prisoner. He says, that he has been denied access to his papers. It is
true that government, for the purposes of justice, has retained
them--but it is also true, that he has been informed that if he asked
for them at the time of his trial they should be ready; and any of them,
which he might think useful to his defence, should be given to him; and
in the mean time, if he considered it necessary, he might have copies of
them. This we are ready to verify on oath."
The clerk of the arraigns, Mr. Shelton, then read the indictment, which
charged the prisoner in the usual way with the murder of the Right Hon.
Spencer Perceval, with which he was also charged on the coroner's
inquisition.
Mr. Abbott having opened the case,
The Attorney-general addressed the jury. He said that a lamentable and
painful task devolved upon him to state to the jury the circumstances of
this horrid murder,--a crime perpetrated on a man whose whole life, he
should have thought, would have guarded and protected him against such
an attack--who, he was sure, if enough of life had been left him to see
by whose hand he had fallen, would have spent his last moment in
uttering a prayer for the forgiveness of his murderer. But it was not a
time for him to dwell on the public loss, which had been sustained,--its
brightest ornament had been torn from the country--but the country had
done justice to his memory. These were not considerations, however, by
which they must be swayed. It was not revenge, nor was it resentment,
that ought to have any influence on their consideration of the question.
They were to satisfy public justice--to take care, by their verdict,
that the public should not be exposed to such horrid crimes. With
respect to the prisoner, he knew nothing; nor did he know how his life
had been spent, except so far as related to the circumstances of the
case. He had been in business, and had acted as a merchant, in the
course of which he had shown himself a man of sound understanding in
every act which he performed; and he had not only conducted his own
affairs with understanding, but he had been selected by other persons to
manage theirs. Having stated the main facts of the case as we have
already detailed them, he entreated the jury to consider it not as the
murder of so eminent a person, but as the murder of a common
individual--to suppose the meanest subject to have suffered as Mr.
Perceval had suffered, and to return their verdict as they would upon
that case. Was he or was he not guilty?--to that point they must direct
their attention, and he knew of no reason to cause even a doubt. But
what remained? This only,--the attempt which had been made that day to
put off the trial of the prisoner, on the ground of his being fit for
this or any other crime, as he was afflicted with insanity. Let them
consider this a little. The prisoner was a man conducting himself like
others in all the ordinary circumstances of life--who carried on
business, none of his family or friends interfering--no pretence being
suggested that he was unable to superintend his own affairs. What
clearer proofs, then, could be given to show, contrary to the defence
set up, that he was not what the law called _non compos mentis_--that he
was an accountable being? He knew the cases where the plea of insanity
would be received--where for instance a murder was committed by a person
whose mental infirmity might be considered as very nearly the absence of
all mind. Against their defence there was no argument. But he was this
day to learn, whether the wickedness of the act which the prisoner was
called on to answer was to be considered an excuse for its perpetration.
Travelling through his whole life, what ground could they adduce for
such a plea? His every act appeared rational, except one; and that was
only irrational, because it was so horrid that the imagination of man
could not fancy to itself the existence of so atrocious a deed. But how
far must this argument go? It must arrive at this conclusion--that every
act of gross and unusual atrocity would carry its defence along with it,
that every act of peculiar horror would have within itself a certain
defence, for the barbarity of the deed would be considered as a proof
that the mind which directed it was not in a state of sufficient
security to judge whether the action was right or wrong; and if the mind
possessed the power of forming that judgment, the prisoner was
criminally accountable for the act. A man might be infirm in mind,
insufficient to dispose of his property, or to judge of the claims of
his respective relatives; and if he were in that situation, the
management of his affairs might be taken from him and vested in
trustees: but such a man was not discharged from criminal acts because
he could not transact civil business. Many cases had occurred within his
memory in courts of law, in which it was proved that a person in many
respects had evinced symptoms of insanity up to a certain time; but the
question then was, whether that insanity was of such a description as
precluded or permitted the knowledge of right or wrong? In every one of
the cases which recurred to his memory, though a certain degree of
madness was proved, still as the parties seemed to have sufficient sense
to distinguish right from wrong at the time of the perpetration of the
acts charged against them, they were held to be criminally accountable.
Here there was no deficiency of understanding whatever--no opinion of
others to that effect was adduced; on the contrary, he was entrusted
with the management of his own and others' affairs. The question was,
whether at the time the murder was perpetrated he possessed sufficient
sense to distinguish between right and wrong? What conclusion could they
draw in favour of the idea which had been suggested? Let them take from
their recollection the frightful nature of the act with the commission
of which he was charged, let them take from it its accumulated horrors,
and the prisoner stood before them in a state of sanity, and fully
accountable for the act, of which, he thought, little doubt could be
entertained he had been guilty.--The learned gentleman concluded by
expressing his satisfaction at the fact that the prisoner stood alone on
that occasion; that he was unconnected with, and unaided and
uninfluenced by any other person or party in the country, and that this
deed could not therefore be attributed to any but the personal feelings
which he entertained towards his majesty's government. On him, and on
him only, did the disgrace which he had excited rest, and the character
of the country was entirely free from any participation in it.
The first witness called on the part of the crown was--
Mr. William Smith (M. P. for Norwich), who, being sworn, deposed as
follows:--
He was on his way to attend the House of Commons on the evening of
Monday, the 11th of May, and was going through the lobby towards the
door of the house, when he heard the report of a pistol, which appeared
to have been fired close to the entrance-door of the lobby. Immediately
on the report, he turned towards the place from whence the noise
appeared to proceed, and observed a tumult, and probably a dozen or more
persons about the spot. Almost in the same instant he saw a person rush
hastily from among the crowd, and heard several voices cry out, "Shut
the doors--let no one escape." The person came towards him from the
crowd, looking first one way, then another, rather like one seeking for
shelter than the person wounded. But taking two or three steps towards
the witness, he reeled by him, and almost instantaneously fell on the
floor with his face downward. Before he fell, witness heard him cry,
though not very distinctly; and in what he uttered, he heard the word
"murder!" or something very like it. When he first fell, witness thought
that he might have been slightly wounded, and expected to see him make
an effort to rise; but gazing on him for a few moments, he observed that
he did not stir at all, and he, therefore, immediately stooped down to
raise him from the ground, requesting the assistance of a gentleman
close by him for the purpose. As soon as they had turned his face
upwards, and not till then, he found that it was Mr. Perceval. They then
took him into their arms, and carried him into the office of the
speaker's secretary, where they seated themselves on the table, with Mr.
Perceval between them, also sitting on the table, and resting on their
arms. His face was now perfectly pale, the blood issuing in small
quantities from each corner of his mouth, and probably in two or three
minutes from the firing of the pistol all signs of life had ceased. The
eyes of the unfortunate gentleman were open, but he did not appear to
know witness, nor to take any notice of any person about him, nor did he
utter the least articulate sound from the moment he fell. A few
convulsive sobs, which lasted perhaps three or four moments, together
with scarcely a perceptible pulse, were the only signs of life which
appeared then, and those continued but a very short time longer; and
when witness felt Mr. Perceval's pulse for the last time, just before
Mr. Lynn, the surgeon, arrived, it appeared to him that he was quite
dead. Witness remained supporting the body until it was conveyed into
the speaker's house, but he was unable to give any account of what
passed in the lobby.
Mr. William Lynn, a surgeon in Great George-street, deposed that he was
called to the deceased, but on his arrival he was quite dead. There was
blood upon his white waistcoat and shirt; and upon his examining the
body, he found that there was an opening in the skin. He probed the
wound three inches downwards, and entertained no doubt that the
pistol-ball passed into the heart, and was the cause of death.
Mr. Henry Burgess, a solicitor who was in the lobby, stated, that after
having seen Mr. Perceval fall, as had been already described, he heard
some one exclaim, "That's the man!" and saw a hand pointing towards the
bench by the fire-place, which is on one side of the lobby. He
immediately went over to the bench, and saw the prisoner at the bar
sitting on it in great agitation. There were one or two persons by him;
he looked at his hands, and saw his left hand on the bench; and near or
under his other hand he saw a pistol, which he took, and asked the
prisoner what had induced him to do such a deed? He replied, "Want of
redress of grievances, and refusal by government," or words to that
effect. Witness then said to the prisoner, "You have another pistol?" He
replied, "Yes." Witness asked if it was loaded? to which he answered in
the affirmative. Witness then saw some person take the other pistol from
his person. The pistol which witness took from the prisoner was warm,
and appeared as if it had been recently discharged. The lock was down
and the pan open. (Here the pistol was produced, and recognised by the
witness.) He then stated, that he put his hand into the right
waistcoat-pocket of the prisoner, from which he took a small penknife
and a pencil, and from his left-hand waistcoat-pocket he took a bunch of
keys and some money. The prisoner was detained in custody, and examined
shortly afterwards above stairs in the House of Commons before the
magistrates. Witness related in the presence of the prisoner, on that
occasion, the facts which he had now detailed. When he had concluded,
the prisoner made an observation to this effect, as well as he could
recollect. "I wish to correct Mr. Burgess' statement in one point; but I
believe he is perfectly correct in every other. Instead of my hand
being, as Mr. Burgess stated, upon or near the pistol, I think he took
it from my hand, or upon it."
James Taylor, a tailor, at No. 11, North Place, Gray's-Inn Lane, deposed
that he had been employed by the prisoner to repair some clothes. He was
afterwards in Guildford Street, when the prisoner called him, and took
him to his lodgings in Millman Street, and there directed him to put a
side-pocket into a coat, which he gave him, of a particular length which
he pointed out. He completed the job on the same night, and carried the
coat home.
Mr. John Morris stated that he often attended in the gallery
appropriated for strangers, and went down to the House on Monday, the
11th of May, for that purpose. He passed into the lobby about the hour
of five in the afternoon. He observed the prisoner at the bar standing
in the lobby near the outer door; he was standing beside that part of
the door which is generally closed. It was a double door, and one half
was usually closed, within which half the prisoner was standing, and any
one to have entered the lobby must have passed him at arm's length. He
observed the prisoner as if watching for somebody coming, and he
appeared to look anxiously towards the door. As well as the witness
recollected, the prisoner had his right hand within the left breast of
his coat. Witness passed on to the staircase of the gallery, and almost
immediately after he got into the upper lobby, he heard the report of a
pistol, and found soon after that it was connected with the fatal event
which occurred on that evening. He had frequently seen the prisoner
before in the gallery, where gentlemen who report the parliamentary
proceedings resorted, and about the passages of the House of Commons.
John Vickery, a Bow Street officer, said that he went on Monday
afternoon to New Millman Street, to the lodgings of the prisoner, which
he searched, and found, in the bed-room up stairs, a pair of
pistol-bags, and in the same drawer a small powder-flask, and some
powder in a small paper, a box with some bullets, and some small flints
wrapped in paper. There was also a pistol-key to unscrew the pistol for
the purpose of loading, and some sand-paper and a pistol-mould. The
witness on comparing the bullet found in the loaded pistol with the
mould, and the screw with the pistols, found them all to correspond.
Mr. Vincent George Dowling was next called. He stated that he was in the
gallery on the afternoon in question, and ran down into the lobby on
hearing the report of a pistol. He saw the prisoner at the bar sitting
on a stool, and going to him, he seized him and began to search his
person. He took from his left-hand small-clothes pocket a small pistol,
which he produced, and which, on his examining it, he found to be loaded
with powder and ball. It was primed as well as loaded. The pistol which
had been discharged and that which he took from the prisoner were in his
belief a brace; they were of the same size and bore, and were marked
with the same maker's name. The witness had seen the prisoner several
times before in the gallery and in the avenues of the house, and to the
best of his recollection the last time he saw him was six or seven days
before the death of Mr. Perceval. He was frequently in the gallery
during the debates, and upon several occasions entered into conversation
with the witness. He had often asked for information as to the names of
the gentlemen speaking, and also as to the persons of the members of his
majesty's government.
Other witnesses from Newgate produced the coat worn by the prisoner at
the time of his apprehension, and it was identified by Taylor as the
same into which he had put the side-pocket.
Lord Chief-justice Mansfield then addressed the prisoner, and told him,
that the case on the part of the crown being now gone through, the
period was come for him to make any defence he might wish to offer.
The prisoner asked whether his counsel had nothing to urge in his
defence?
Mr. Alley informed him that his counsel were not entitled to speak.
The prisoner then said that the documents and papers necessary to his
defence had been taken out of his pocket, and had not since been
restored to him.
Mr. Garrow said, that it was the intention of the counsel for the crown
to restore him his papers, having first proved them to be the same which
were taken from him, and had not suffered any subtraction; and that his
solicitor already had copies of them.
General Gascoigne and Mr. Hume (M. P. for Weymouth) proved that the
papers were those which had been taken from the person of the prisoner,
and that they had been in their custody ever since, and had suffered no
subtraction.
The papers were then handed to the prisoner, who proceeded to arrange
and examine them.
The prisoner, who had been hitherto sitting, now rose, and, bowing
respectfully to the court and jury, went into his defence, in a firm
tone of voice, and without any appearance of embarrassment. He spoke
nearly to the following effect:--
"I feel great personal obligation to the attorney-general for the
objection which he has made to the plea of insanity. I think it is far
more fortunate that such a plea as that should have been unfounded, than
that it should have existed in fact. I am obliged to my counsel,
however, for having thus endeavoured to consult my interest, as I am
convinced the attempt has arisen from the kindest motives. That I am or
have been insane is a circumstance of which I am not apprised, except in
the single instance of my having been confined in Russia; how far that
may be considered as affecting my present situation, it is not for me to
determine. This is the first time that I have ever spoken in public in
this way. I feel my own incompetency, but I trust you will attend to the
substance, rather than to the manner, of my investigating the truth of
an affair which has occasioned my presence at this bar. I beg to assure
you that the crime which I have committed has arisen from compulsion
rather than from any hostility to the man whom it has been my fate to
destroy. Considering the amiable character and universally admitted
virtues of Mr. Perceval, I feel, if I could murder him in a cool and
unjustifiable manner, I should not deserve to live another moment in
this world. Conscious, however, that I shall be able to justify
everything which I have done, I feel some degree of confidence in
meeting the storm which assails me, and shall now proceed to unfold a
catalogue of circumstances which, while they harrow up my own soul,
will, I am sure, tend to the extenuation of my conduct in this
honourable court. This, as has already been candidly stated by the
attorney-general, is the first instance in which any the slightest
imputation has been cast upon my moral character. Until this fatal
catastrophe, which no one can more heartily regret than I do, not
excepting even the family of Mr. Perceval himself, I have stood alike
pure in the minds of those who have known me, and in the judgment of my
own heart. I hope I see this affair in the true light. For eight years,
gentlemen of the jury, have I been exposed to all the miseries which it
is possible for human nature to endure. Driven almost to despair, I
sought for redress in vain. For this affair I had the _carte blanche_ of
government, as I will prove by the most incontestible evidence, namely,
the writing of the secretary of state himself. I come before you under
peculiar disadvantages. Many of my most material papers are now at
Liverpool, for which I have written; but I have been called upon my
trial before it was possible to obtain an answer to my letter. Without
witnesses, therefore, and in the absence of many papers necessary to my
justification, I am sure you will admit I have just grounds for claiming
some indulgence. I must state that after my voyage to Archangel, I
transmitted to his royal highness the Prince Regent, through Mr. Windle,
my solicitor, a petition, and in consequence of there being no reply I
came to London to see the result. Surprised at the delay, and
conceiving that the interests of my country were at stake, I considered
this step as essential, as well for the assertion of my own right as for
the vindication of the national honour. I waited upon Colonel MacMahon,
who stated that my petition had been received, but, owing to some
accident, had been mislaid. Under these circumstances, I drew out
another account of the particulars of the Russian affair; and this may
be considered the commencement of that train of events which led to the
afflicting and unhappy fate of Mr. Perceval."
The prisoner then read various documents containing the statement the
whole of his affairs in Russia; and in the course of narrating these
hardships, took occasion to explain several points, adverting with great
feeling to the unhappy situation in which he was placed, from the
circumstance of his having been lately married to his wife, then about
twenty years of age, with an infant at her breast, and who had been
waiting for him at St. Petersburgh, in order that she might accompany
him to England,--a prey to all those anxieties which the unexpected and
cruel incarceration of her husband, without any just grounds, was
calculated to excite. (He was here much affected.) He also described his
feelings at a subsequent period, when his wife, from an anxiety to reach
her native country (England) when in a state of pregnancy, and looking
to the improbability of his liberation, was obliged to quit Petersburgh
unprotected, and undertake the voyage at the peril of her life; while
Lord L. Gower and Sir S. Shairp suffered him to remain in a situation
worse than death. "My God! my God!" he exclaimed, "what heart could bear
such excruciating tortures, without bursting with indignation at conduct
so diametrically opposite to justice and to humanity. I appeal to you,
gentlemen of the jury, as men--I appeal to you as brothers--I appeal to
you as Christians--whether, under such circumstances of persecution, it
was possible to regard the actions of the ambassador and consul of my
own country with any other feelings but those of detestation and horror!
In using language thus strong, I feel that I commit an error; yet does
my heart tell me, that towards men who lent themselves thus to bolster
up the basest acts of persecution, there are no observations, however
strong, which the strict justice of the case would not excuse my using.
Had I been so fortunate as to have met Lord Leveson Gower instead of
that truly amiable and highly-lamented individual, Mr. Perceval, he is
the man who should have received the ball!"
The prisoner then went on to state that on his coming to England he had
represented his hardships to the Marquis Wellesley, from whose secretary
he received the following answer:--
"Foreign Office, January 31, 1810.
"SIR,--I am directed by the Marquis Wellesley to transmit to you
the papers which you sent to this office, accompanied by your
letter of the 27th of last month; and I am to inform you, that his
majesty's government is precluded from interfering in the support
of your case, in some measure, by the circumstances of the case
itself, and entirely so at the present moment by the suspension of
intercourse with the court of St. Petersburgh.
"I am, &c.
(Signed) "CULLING CHARLES SMITH."
"I would beg to know (he continued) what course it was possible for me,
after receiving this letter, to pursue? If his majesty's government thus
refused me redress, what must be my next step? The only thing I could do
was, to bring a serious charge against Sir Stephen Shairp and Lord
Leveson Gower; which I accordingly did, by addressing a complete
statement of my case to the privy council, from whom I received the
following answer:--
"'Council Office, Whitehall, May 16, 1810.
"'Sir,--I am directed by the lords of the council to acquaint you,
that their lordships having taken into consideration your petition
on the subject of your arrest in Russia, do not find that it is a
matter in which their Lordships can, in any manner, interfere.
'I am, Sir, &c.
'W. FAWKNER.'
"Having then understood that any remuneration which I might conceive
myself entitled to, I could only procure through the medium of
parliament, I applied myself to several members of parliament, to
ascertain what line of conduct I ought to pursue in order to obtain that
desirable end. These gentlemen told me, that I should make application
to the chancellor of the exchequer--thus petitioning for leave to bring
in a petition upon a subject which, being well founded, became a matter
of right, and not of favour. In consequence, however, of this advice, I
did write a letter to Mr. Perceval, from whom I received an answer dated
Downing Street, 27th May 1810, as follows:--
"'SIR,--I am desired by Mr. Perceval to state to you, in reply to
your letter of yesterday, that the time for presenting private
petitions has long since passed; and that Mr. Perceval cannot
encourage you to expect his sanction in introducing into the house
a petition which Mr. Perceval thinks is not of a nature for the
consideration of parliament.
'I am, &c.
'THOMAS BROOKSBANK.'
"I apprehend, however, that this information is not founded in fact: if
I am wrong, I see several gentlemen round me, connected with the house
of commons, who will set me right. That there is no particular time
limited for the presentation of private petitions, and that they might
be brought forward at any period of the session, I am inclined to think
the usages of the house will permit. The latter clause of Mr. Perceval's
letter, which states that my claims are not of a nature for the
consideration of parliament, appears to me inexplicable. If they are not
referred to that branch of the legislature, to whose consideration then
ought they to be submitted? Yet thus was I bandied about from man to
man, and from place to place. Suppose this had been the case with either
of you, gentlemen of the jury, and that your sufferings had been equal
to mine, what would have been your feelings? It is the duty of every
individual to apply through the proper channel for redress, and through
what other channel ought you to apply but through the heads of
government? Upon this occasion, however, those whose duty it was to have
redressed my grievances treated them with indifference, and were deaf to
the dictated of justice. In consequence of this denial on the part of
Mr. Perceval to investigate a business in which the national honour was
concerned, I was left at a loss how to act, or what course to pursue:
I, therefore, returned home, and remained inactive for nearly eighteen
months, when, finding that I could no longer hold up against the ruinous
effects of those failures which were the consequence of the injustice
with which I had been treated, every one coming upon me for that which I
was unable to pay, and my family borne down by the deepest affliction at
the distresses to which they were exposed, I found it necessary to renew
my applications, which I did to the treasury, and submitted to them a
petition, reiterating those claims I had so unsuccessfully made before.
To this application I received for answer--
"'Treasury Chambers, Feb. 24, 1810.
"'SIR,--Having laid before the lords commissioners of his majesty's
treasury your petition of the 16th instant, submitting a statement
of losses sustained by you in Russia, and praying relief, I am
commanded by their lordships to return to you the documents
transmitted therewith, and to acquaint you that my lords are not
able to afford you any relief.
'I am, &c.
'GEO. HARRISON.'
"I next made application to his royal highness the Prince Regent to have
my affairs laid before parliament, explaining anew the disgraceful
conduct of the consul and ambassador at Russia, who, by suffering me to
be so persecuted, had been guilty of an act which brought eternal
disgrace on the country. (Here he read documents similar to the former,
and repeated all the statements respecting the manner in which he had
been treated in Russia.) The answer I received was as follows:
"'Whitehall, Feb. 18, 1812.
"'SIR,--I am directed by Mr. Secretary Ryder to acquaint you that
your petition to his royal highness the Prince Regent has been
referred, by the command of his royal highness, for the
consideration of the lords of his majesty's most honourable privy
council.
'I am, &c.
'J. BECKETT.'
"After this I made application to the privy council office, and had
communications with Lord Chetwynd and Mr. Duller, the two clerks of that
council, who informed me that I had nothing to expect from their
decision. I then applied to know the reason in writing, why the privy
council declined to act in obedience to the instructions of his royal
highness the Prince Regent; which request I was informed by Mr.
Litchfield could not be complied with.
"Under these circumstances, I communicated the whole to his royal
highness, and enclosed to him a petition to be laid before parliament.
(The petition was here read, and the answer of Mr. Beckett, dated March
9, 1812, stating that his royal highness had signified no commands
thereupon, and returning the petition accordingly.) So baffled (lie
pursued), what could a man do? Reduced to the last extremity of distress
without having been guilty of a single political crime which could call
for reprehension, here I was forced to the commission of that melancholy
act (bursting into tears) which I, as well as my country, have so
sincerely to regret. My wife and my poor children crying for the means
of existence, what alternative had I but to seek redress by some such
dreadful act as that for which I have now to answer? His majesty's
ministers, referring me backwards and forwards like a shuttlecock,
without showing the slightest disposition even to regard my wrongs as
deserving of the smallest consideration, in duty to myself, I was forced
to seek justice, and avenge my own cause. I was told I could not get my
case before parliament without the sanction of his majesty's ministers.
To General Gascoigne, for the politeness and attention with which he
heard my statement, and the disposition he evinced to relieve me were it
in his power, I have to express my gratitude. He informed me, if any of
his majesty's ministers would sanction my claims, and that I was able to
authenticate the particulars I had related, he should be happy to meet
my wishes by laying my petition before the house. Supposing now that I
should feel little difficulty in obtaining such sanction, and satisfied
that by a journey to Liverpool I should be able to produce documents
which would fully establish the truth of every word I had uttered, I
began to hope that the goal of my long-hoped-for wishes was now in view.
I, therefore, directed a letter to Mr. Ryder, requesting the permission
I understood to be essential to my purpose. Here, however, my
expectations were again blasted, and those flattering dreams of success
which had filled my mind with joy were dashed for ever from my reach;
and this letter at once showed me that I had no justice to look for."
Here he read the letter as follows:--
"Whitehall, March 20, 1812.
"SIR,--I am directed by Mr. Secretary Ryder to acknowledge the
receipt of your letter of the 17th instant, requesting permission,
on the part of his majesty's ministers, to present your petition to
the house of commons; and in reply I am to acquaint you, that you
should address your application to the right hon. the chancellor of
the exchequer.
"I am, &c.
"J. BECKETT."
"At last, then, I was told I had nothing to expect, and was forced
reluctantly to notice in a more determined manner the ill-treatment I
had received. To this end I enclosed the particulars of my case to the
magistrates of Bow Street. (The prisoner then read the letter which we
have already given.)
"In the course of two days I called again at Bow Street for an answer to
this letter, when I received a little memorandum, in Mr. Reid's writing,
in which he states that he cannot interfere in my affairs, and that he
had felt it his duty to communicate the contents of my packet to the
secretary of state. Had he done otherwise he would have been extremely
reprehensible, as events have turned out so calamitously--events which
go to my heart to allude to. (Much affected.) At last, in reply to a
letter of the 18th of April, I received a final and direct answer, which
at once convinced me that I had no reason to expect any adjustment
whatever of those claims which I had on his majesty's government, for my
criminal detention in Russia. It was in these terms:--
"'Whitehall, April 18, 1812.
"'SIR,--I am directed by Mr. Secretary Ryder to acknowledge the
receipt of your letter of the 13th instant, requesting to be
informed in what stage your claim on his majesty's government for
criminal detention in Russia now is. In reply, I am to refer you to
my several letters of the 18th of February, 9th and 20th of March,
by which you have been already informed that your first petition to
his royal highness the Prince Regent, praying for remuneration, had
been referred to the consideration of the lords of the council.
That upon your second memorial, praying his royal highness to give
orders that the subject should be brought before parliament, his
royal highness had not been pleased to signify any commands. And,
lastly, in answer to your application to Mr. Ryder, requesting
permission on the part of his majesty's ministers to present your
petition to the house of commons, you were informed that your
application should be addressed to the right hon. the chancellor of
the exchequer.
'I am, &c.
'J. BECKETT.'
"After this, on personal application at the office of the secretary of
state, and intimating my intention to take justice in my own hand, I was
told, by the mouth of Mr. Hill, that I was at liberty to take such
measures as I thought proper. Who then is to be reprobated in this
case?--those who were regardless of every feeling of honour and of
justice, or him who, spurred on by injury and neglect, and with a due
notice of his intentions, pursued the only course likely to lead to a
satisfactory termination of calamities which had weighed him down to the
lowest ebb of misery! I will now only mention a few observations by way
of defence. You have before you all the particulars of this melancholy
transaction. Believe me, gentlemen, the rashness of which I have been
guilty has not been dictated by any personal animosity to Mr. Perceval,
rather than injure whom, from private or malicious motives, I would
suffer my limbs to be cut from my body. (Here the prisoner seemed again
much agitated.)
"If, whenever I am called before the tribunal of God, I can appear with
as clear a conscience as I now possess in regard to the alleged charge
of the wilful murder of the unfortunate gentleman, the investigation of
whose death has occupied your attention, it would be happy for me, as
essentially securing to me eternal salvation; but that is impossible.
That my arm has been the means of his melancholy and lamented exit, I am
ready to allow. But to constitute murder, it must clearly and absolutely
be proved to have arisen from malice prepense, and with a malicious
design, as I have no doubt the learned judge will shortly lay down, in
explaining the law on the subject. If such is the case, I am guilty; if
not, I look forward with confidence to your acquittal.
"That the contrary is the case has been most clearly and irrefutably
proved; no doubt can rest upon your minds, as my uniform and undeviating
object has been an endeavour to obtain justice, according to law, for a
series of the most long-continued and unmerited sufferings that were
ever submitted to a court of law, without having been guilty of any
other crime than an appeal for redress for a most flagrant injury
offered to my sovereign and my country, wherein my liberty and property
have fallen a sacrifice for the continued period of eight years, to the
total ruin of myself and family (with authenticated documents of the
truth of the allegations), merely because it was Mr. Perceval's pleasure
that justice should not be granted, sheltering himself with the idea of
there being no alternative remaining, as my petition to parliament for
redress could not be brought (as having a pecuniary tendency) without
the sanction of his Majesty's ministers, and that he was determined to
oppose my claim, by trampling both on law and right.
"Gentlemen, where a man has so strong and serious a criminal case to
bring forward as mine has been, the nature of which was purely national,
it is the bounden duty of government to attend to it; for justice is a
matter of right, and not of favour. And when a minister is so
unprincipled and presumptuous at any time, but especially in a case of
such urgent necessity, to set himself above both the sovereign and the
laws, as has been the case with Mr. Perceval, he must do it at his
personal risk; for by the law he cannot be protected.
"Gentlemen, if this is not fact, the mere will of a minister would be
law; it would be this thing to-day and the other thing to-morrow, as
either interest or caprice might dictate.--What would become of our
liberties? Where would be the purity and the impartiality of the justice
we so much boast of?--To government's non-attendance to the dictates of
justice is solely to be attributed the melancholy catastrophe of the
unfortunate gentleman, as any malicious intention to his injury was the
most remote from my heart. Justice, and justice only, was my object,
which government uniformly objected to grant; and the distress it
reduced me to, drove me to despair in consequence; and, purely for the
purpose of having this singular affair legally investigated, I gave
notice at the public office, Bow Street, requesting the magistrates to
acquaint his majesty's ministers, that if they persisted in refusing
justice, or even to permit me to bring my just petition into parliament
for redress, I should be under the imperious necessity of executing
justice myself, solely for the purpose of ascertaining, through a
criminal court, whether his majesty's ministers have the power to refuse
justice to a well-authenticated and irrefutable act of oppression,
committed by the consul and ambassador abroad, whereby my sovereign's
and country's honour were materially tarnished, by my person
endeavouring to be made the stalking-horse of justification, to one of
the greatest insults that could be offered to the crown. But in order to
avoid so reluctant and abhorrent an alternative, I hoped to be allowed
to bring my petition to the house of commons--or that they would do what
was right and proper themselves. On my return from Russia, I brought
most serious charges to the privy council, both against Sir Stephen
Shairp and Lord Granville Leveson Gower, when the affair was determined
to be purely national, and consequently it was the duty of his majesty's
ministers to arrange it by acting on the resolution of the council.
Suppose, for instance, the charge I brought could have been proved to be
erroneous, should not I have been called to a severe account for my
conduct? But, being true, ought not I to have been redressed?
"After the notice from the police to government, Mr. Ryder, conscious of
the truth and cruelty of the case, transmitted the affair to the
Treasury, referring me there for a final result. After a delay of some
weeks, the Treasury came to the resolution of sending the affair back to
the secretary of state's office; at the same time I was told by a Mr.
Hill, that he thought it would be useless my making further application
to government, and that I was at liberty to take such measures as I
thought proper for redress.
"Mr. Beckett, the under-secretary of state, confirmed the same, adding
that Mr. Perceval had been consulted, and could not allow my petition to
come forward. This direct refusal of justice, with a _carte blanche_ to
act in whatever manner I thought proper, were the sole causes of the
fatal catastrophe--and they have now to reflect on their own impure
conduct for what has happened.
"It is a melancholy fact, that the warping of justice, including all
the various ramifications in which it operates, occasions more misery
in the world, in a moral sense, than all the acts of God in a physical
one, with which he punishes mankind for their transgressions; a
confirmation of which, the single, but strong, instance before you is
one remarkable proof.
"If a poor unfortunate man stops another upon the highway, and robs him
of but a few shillings, he may be called upon to forfeit his life. But I
have been robbed of my liberty for years, ill-treated beyond precedent,
torn from my wife and family, bereaved of all my property to make good
the consequences of such irregularities, deprived and bereaved of
everything that makes life valuable, and then called upon to forfeit it,
because Mr. Perceval has been pleased to patronize iniquity that ought
to have been punished, for the sake of a vote or two in the House of
Commons, with, perhaps, a similar good turn elsewhere.
"Is there, gentlemen, any comparison between the enormity of these two
offenders? No more than a mite to a mountain. Yet the one is carried to
the gallows, while the other stalks in security, fancying himself beyond
the reach of law or justice; the most honest man suffers, while the
other goes forward in triumph to new and more extended enormities.
"We have had a recent and striking instance of some unfortunate men who
have been called upon to pay their lives as the forfeit of their
allegiance, in endeavouring to mitigate the rigours of a prison. But,
gentlemen, where is the proportion between the crimes for which they
suffered, and what the Government has been guilty of, in withholding its
protection from me? Even in a Crown case, after the years of sufferings,
I have been called upon to sacrifice all my property, and the welfare of
my family, to bolster up the iniquities of the Crown; and then am
prosecuted for my life, because I have taken the only possible
alternative to bring the affair to a public investigation, for the
purpose of being enabled to return to the bosom of my family with some
degree of comfort and honour. Every man within the sound of my voice
must feel for my situation; but by you, gentlemen of the jury, it must
be felt in a peculiar degree, who are husbands and fathers, and can
fancy yourselves in my situation.--I trust that this serious lesson will
operate as a warning to all future ministers, and lead them to do the
thing that is right, as an unerring rule of conduct; for, if the
superior classes were more correct in their proceedings, the extensive
ramifications of evil would, in a great measure, be hemmed up--and a
notable proof of the fact is, that this court would never have been
troubled with the case before it, had their conduct been guided by these
principles.
"I have now occupied the attention of the court for a period much longer
than I intended; yet, I trust, they will consider the awfulness of my
situation to be a sufficient ground for a trespass, which, under other
circumstances, would be inexcusable. Sooner than suffer what I have
suffered for the last eight years, however, I should consider five
hundred deaths, if it were possible for human nature to endure them, a
fate far more preferable. Lost so long to all the endearments of my
family, bereaved of all the blessings of life, and deprived of its
greatest sweet, liberty, as the weary traveller, who has long been
pelted by the pitiless storm, welcomes the much desired inn, I shall
receive death as the relief of all my sorrows. I shall not occupy your
attention longer; but, relying on the justice of God, and submitting
myself to the dictates of your conscience, I submit to the _fiat_ of my
fate, firmly anticipating an acquittal from a charge so abhorrent to
every feeling of my soul."
Here the prisoner bowed, and his counsel immediately proceeded to call
the witnesses for the defence.
Anne Billet, who appeared under the strongest impressions of grief,
being sworn, deposed, that she lived in the county of Southampton; she
came to London in consequence of having read in the newspapers of the
prisoner having been apprehended for the murder of Mr. Perceval. She was
induced to come to town, from a conviction that she knew more of him
than any other friend. She knew him from a child. He resided latterly at
Liverpool, from whence he came at Christmas last. She knew him to be a
merchant. His father died insane in Titchfield-street, Oxford-road; she
firmly believed that, for the last three or four years, the prisoner was
in a state of derangement, respecting the business which he had been
pursuing. She had not seen him for twelve months until the present
moment. She always thought him deranged when his Russian affairs were
the subject of conversation.
When cross-examined by Mr. Garrow, she deposed, that when in London with
the prisoner about twelve months since, he was going to different
government offices to seek redress of his grievances. He was then in a
state of derangement, as he had been ever since his return from Russia.
There was one instance which occurred at the period to which she was
alluding, which strongly confirmed her in the opinion of his insanity.
About Christmas he told his wife and witness, that now he was come from
Russia he had realised more than 100,000_l_., with which he intended to
buy an estate in the west of England, and to have a house in London.--He
admitted that he had not got the money, but said it was the same as if
he had, for he had gained his cause in Russia, and our government would
make good all the loss he had sustained. He repeatedly said to her and
to his wife that this was assuredly the fact. Upon one occasion he took
Mrs. Bellingham and the witness to the secretary of state's office,
where they saw Mr. Smith, who said if he had not ladies with him he
would not have come to him at all.--The prisoner told Mr. Smith, that
the reason why he brought them was, to convince them that his claims
were just, and that he would very shortly receive the money. Mr. Smith
told him he could say nothing upon this subject; he had already sent him
a letter alleging that he had nothing to expect. The prisoner then
requested Mr. Smith would answer him one question--"My friends say I am
out of my senses; is it your opinion that I am so?" Mr. Smith said it
was a very delicate question, and one he did not wish to answer. Having
then departed, when they got into the carriage which waited for them, he
took hold of his wife's hand and said, "I hope, now, my dear, you are
convinced all will now end as we wish." Since that period she knew that
he had been pursuing his object _alone_, his wife remaining at
Liverpool.
Other witnesses were called, who deposed to like facts and to their
belief in the insanity of the prisoner, but Lord Chief Justice Mansfield
having summed up the case, the jury, after a consultation of two minutes
and a half in the box, expressed a wish to retire; and an officer of the
court being sworn, accompanied them to the jury-room. As they passed
out, the prisoner regarded them separately with a look of mingled
confidence and complacency. They were absent fourteen minutes; and, on
their return into court, their countenances, acting as indices to their
minds, at once unfolded the determination to which they had come. The
prisoner again directed his attention to them in the same manner as
before.
The names being called over, and the verdict asked for in the usual
form, the foreman in a faltering voice, announced the fatal decision
of--Guilty.
The prisoner's countenance here indicated surprise, unmixed, however,
with any demonstrations of that concern which the awfulness of his
situation was calculated to produce.
The Recorder then passed the awful sentence of death on the prisoner in
the most feeling manner, and he was ordered for execution on the
following Monday, his body to be anatomised. He received the sentence
without any emotion.
From the time of his condemnation, the unfortunate convict was fed upon
bread and water. All means of suicide were removed, and he was not
allowed to be shaved; a prohibition which gave him much concern, as he
feared he should not appear as a gentleman. He was visited by the
ordinary on Saturday, and some religious gentlemen called on him on
Sunday, with whose conversation he seemed greatly pleased. He appeared
naturally depressed by his situation; but persisted in a resolute denial
of his guilt. He frequently said that he had prepared himself to go to
his Father, and that he should be pleased when the hour came.
Being informed, by Mr. Newman, that two gentlemen from Liverpool had
called, and left word that his wife and children would be provided for,
he seemed but little affected; but, having requested pen, ink, and
paper, he wrote the following letter to his wife:--
"MY BLESSED MARY,--It rejoiced me beyond measure to hear you are likely
to be well provided for. I am sure the public at large will participate
in, and mitigate, your sorrows; I assure you, my love, my sincerest
endeavours have ever been directed to your welfare.--As we shall not
meet any more in this world, I sincerely hope we shall do so in the
world to come. My blessing to the boys, with kind remembrance to Miss
Stephens, for whom I have the greatest regard, in consequence of her
uniform affection for them. With the purest intentions, it has always
been, my misfortune to be thwarted, misrepresented, and ill-used in
life; but, however, we feel a happy prospect of compensation in a speedy
translation to life eternal.--It's not possible to be more calm or
placid than I feel, and nine hours more will waft me to those happy
shores where bliss is without alloy.--Yours ever affectionate,--JOHN
BELLINGHAM."
That the unfortunate man was afflicted with a strange malady, which
occasionally rendered him incapable of correct conclusions, must be
evident from the following note, which he wrote the night preceding his
execution:--"I lost my suit solely through the improper conduct of my
attorney and counsel, Mr. Alley, in not bringing my witnesses forward
(of whom there were more than twenty): in consequence, the judge took
advantage of the circumstance, and I went of [on] the defence without
having brought forward a single friend--otherwise I must inevitably have
been acquitted."
On the Monday morning at about six o'clock he rose and dressed himself
with great composure, and read for half an hour in the prayer-book. Dr.
Ford being then announced, the prisoner shook him most cordially by the
hand, and left his cell for the room allotted for the condemned
criminals. He repeated the declaration which he had frequently before
made, that his mind was perfectly calm and composed, and that he was
fully prepared to meet his fate with resignation. After a few minutes
spent in prayer, the sacrament was administered to him, and during the
whole of the ceremony he seemed to be deeply impressed with the truths
of the christian religion, and repeatedly uttered some pious
ejaculations. After the religious ceremony was ended, the prisoner was
informed that the sheriff's were ready. He answered in a firm tone of
voice, "I am perfectly ready also."
The executioner then proceeded to fasten his wrists together, and the
prisoner turned up the sleeves of his coat, and clasped his hands
together, presenting them to the man, who held the cord, and said, "So."
When they were fastened, he desired his attendants to pull down his
sleeves so as to cover the cord. The officer then proceeded to secure
his arms behind him; and when the man had finished, he moved his hands
upwards, as if to ascertain whether he could reach his neck, and asked
whether they thought his arms were sufficiently fastened; saying, that
he might struggle, and that he wished to be so secured as to prevent any
inconvenience arising from it. He was answered that the cord was quite
secure, but he requested that it might be tightened a little, which was
accordingly done. During the whole of the awful scene he appeared
perfectly composed and collected; his voice never faltered, but just
before he left the room to proceed to the place of execution, he stooped
down his head, and appeared to wipe away a tear. He was then conducted
by the lord mayor, sheriffs, under-sheriffs and officers (Dr. Ford
walking with him) from the room, in which he had remained from the time
his irons were taken off, through the press-yard and the prison to the
fatal spot, before the debtors' door at Newgate.
He ascended the scaffold with rather a light step, a cheerful
countenance, and a confident, a calm, but not an exulting air. He looked
about him a little, lightly and rapidly, which seems to have been his
usual manner and gesture, but made no remark.
Before the cap was put over his face, Dr. Ford asked if he had any last
communication to make, or anything particular to say. He was again
proceeding to talk about Russia and his family, when Dr. Ford stopped
him, calling his attention to the eternity into which he was entering;
and praying, Bellingham prayed also. The clergyman then asked him how he
felt; and he answered calmly and collectedly, that "he thanked God for
having enabled him to meet his fate with so much fortitude and
resignation." When the executioner proceeded to put the cap over his
face, Bellingham objected to it, and expressed a strong wish that the
business could be done without it; but Dr. Ford said that was not to be
dispensed with. While the cap was being fastened on, it being tied round
the lower part of the face by the prisoner's neckerchief, and just when
he was tied up, about a score of persons in the mob set up a loud and
reiterated cry of "God bless you!" "God save you!" This cry lasted while
the cap was fastening on; and, though those who raised it were loud and
daring, it was joined in by but very few. The ordinary asked Bellingham
if he heard what the mob were saying. He said he heard them crying out
something, but he did not understand what it was, and inquired what. The
cry having by this time ceased, the clergyman did not inform him what it
was. The fastening on of the cap being accomplished, the executioner
retired, and a perfect silence ensued. Dr. Ford continued praying for
about a minute, while the executioner went below the scaffold, and
preparations were made to strike away its supporters. The clock struck
eight, and while it was striking the seventh time, the clergyman and
Bellingham both fervently praying, the supporters of the internal part
of the scaffold were struck away, and Bellingham dropped out of sight
down as far as the knees, his body being in full view, and the clergyman
was left standing on the outer frame of the scaffold. When Bellingham
sunk, the most perfect and awful silence prevailed; not even the
slightest attempt at a huzza or noise of any kind whatever was made.
The body was afterwards carried in a cart, followed by a crowd of the
lower class, to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and privately dissected.
The greatest precautions were adopted to prevent accidents among the
crowd.--A large bill was placarded at all the avenues to the Old Bailey,
and carried about on a pole, to this effect:--"Beware of entering the
crowd!--Remember thirty poor creatures were pressed to death by the
crowd when Haggerty and Holloway were executed," and no accident of any
moment occurred.
To prevent any disposition to tumult, a military force was stationed
near Islington, and to the south of Blackfriars Bridge; and all the
volunteer corps of the metropolis received instructions to be under arms
during the whole of the day.
THE LUDDITES.
The name of this deluded faction was taken from the person by whom they
represented that they were led on to commit the irregularities of which
they were guilty--General Ludd. It appears that the cotton manufacturers
of Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Leicestershire, and some parts of
Yorkshire, having suffered under a considerable reduction of wages and
scarcity of work, which they attributed to the very extensive
introduction of machinery, associated in such numbers for the
destruction of frames and looms, and the annoyance of those
manufacturers who had been most forward in introducing the machines,
that those counties became the seat of the most serious tumults.
The crimes of which they were generally guilty were those of
administering unlawful oaths, riotously assembling, and breaking the
frames and looms of the manufacturers of cloth, breaking into houses,
and in some instances those persons who had had sufficient hardihood to
oppose their proceedings were selected by them as victims to their
passions, and were barbarously murdered. The riotous proceedings of the
party continued during a considerable period, but at length the active
measures, which were taken by the government against them, effectually
put a stop to their depredations.
Many of them having been taken into custody a special commission was
issued for their trial, and was opened by Baron Thompson, at the city of
York, on Monday the 4th of January 1813, in a most impressive charge to
the grand jury.
On Tuesday, the 5th, the business of the court commenced with the trial
of John Swallow, John Batley, Joseph Fletcher, and John Lamb, for a
burglary and felony in the house of Mr. Samuel Moxon, at Whitley Upper:
the jury pronounced them all guilty.
It would be useless to go into a detail of all the cases tried before
the learned judges, all of which partook strongly of the same character,
and we shall therefore confine ourselves to the recital of those
instances which were marked by the spilling of blood.
On the Wednesday, George Mellor, of Longroyd Bridge, and William Thorp
and Thomas Smith, of Huddersfield, were indicted for the wilful murder
of William Horsfall, of Marsden, merchant and manufacturer, at Lockwood,
in the West Riding of Yorkshire.
From the evidence of Benjamin Walker, an accomplice of the prisoners and
others, it appeared that a conspiracy was entered into to attack the
mill of Mr. Cartwright, in which Mellor was one of the principals. While
they were in conversation upon this subject on the 28th April, however,
the same prisoner produced a loaded pistol, and said that he was going
to shoot Mr. Horsfall, and that the other prisoners and Walker must
accompany him. They accordingly proceeded together to a plantation near
an inn called the Warren-house, at Crossland Moor, near Huddersfield,
where it was arranged that they should station themselves in a line by
the road, and when Mr. Horsfall came, Mellor was to fire first; and in
case of his missing his aim Smith and Walker were to fire. At a quarter
past six o'clock in the evening, Mr. Horsfall called at the
Warren-house, on his way home from Huddersfield market, and had some rum
and water, and after about twenty minutes he proceeded on his way,
unconscious of the fate which awaited him. He had entered the road,
which ran through the plantation, and which was only a quarter of a mile
from the Warren-house, when the prisoner Mellor fired and shot him. The
unfortunate gentleman on his being wounded fell on his horse's chine,
and a Mr. Parr, hearing the report and seeing him fall, rode up to him,
in order to assist him. Mr. Horsfall, having quitted his horse, sat down
by the road side, and despatched Mr. Parr for assistance, but he died
very soon afterwards.
The prisoners attempted to prove an _alibi_, but the jury withdrew about
twenty minutes, and returned a verdict of guilty against them all. They
were immediately sentenced to death.
On Friday these wretched men were brought to the place of execution,
behind the Castle at York. Every precaution had been taken to render a
rescue impracticable. Two troops of cavalry were drawn up near the front
of the platform, and the avenues to the Castle were guarded by infantry.
A few minutes before nine o'clock the prisoners came upon the platform.
After the ordinary had read the accustomed forms of prayer, George
Mellor prayed for about ten minutes, William Thorp also prayed; but his
voice was not so well heard. Smith said but little, but seemed to join
in the devotions with great seriousness.
The prisoners were then moved to the front of the platform; and, after
saying a few words, the executioner proceeded to perform his fatal
office, and the drop fell.
On the 8th John Baines the elder, John Baines the younger, Zachary
Baines of the same family, the elder near seventy years of age, and the
latter scarce sixteen, John Eadon, Charles Milnes, William Blakeborough,
and George Duckworth, all of Halifax, were tried for administering an
unlawful oath to John Macdonald; and all, except the boy, were found
guilty
[Illustration: _The Luddites shooting Mr. Horsfall._]
On the 9th January, James Haigh of Dalton, Jonathan Deane of
Huddersfield, John Ogden, James Brook, Thomas Brook, John Walker of
Longroyd Bridge, and John Hirst of Liversedge, were tried for attacking
the mill of Mr. William Cartwright at Rawfolds. Mr. Cartwright being
apprehensive of an attack being made upon his mill, procured the
assistance of five soldiers, and retired to rest about twelve o'clock,
but soon afterwards heard the barking of a dog. He arose; and while
opening the door, heard a breaking of windows, and also a firing in the
upper and lower windows, and a violent hammering at the door. He and his
men flew to their arms; and a bell placed at the top of the mill, for
the purpose of alarming the neighbours, being rung by one of his men,
the persons inside the mill discharged their pieces from loop-holes. The
fire was returned regularly on both sides. The mob called, "Bang up,
lads! in with you! keep close! damn that bell! get to it! damn 'em, kill
'em all!" The numbers assembled were considerable. The attack continued
about twenty minutes; but at length the fire slackened from without, and
the cries of the wounded were heard. The men that were wounded were
taken care of, but afterwards died. One of the accomplices, W. Hall,
stated that he was one of those connected with Mellor and Thorp, and
assembled with many other persons by the desire of Mellor, in a field
belonging to sir George Armitage, Bart., on the night of the 11th of
April. They called their numbers, remained there some time, and then
marched off to the mill. Mellor commanded the musket company, another
the pistol company, and another the hatchet company: they were formed in
lines of ten each. Two of the men were to go last and drive up the
rear.--Some had hatchets, some hammers, some sticks, and others had no
arms.
The jury found James Haigh, J. Deane, J. Ogden, T. Brook, and J. Walker
guilty, but acquitted the rest.
Several prisoners were on the two following days convicted of robberies,
but many others were, through the lenity of the government, admitted to
bail. On the Thursday, on the grand jury coming into court and declaring
that they had disposed of all the bills of indictment preferred before
them, Mr. Parke, who appeared as counsel for the crown, said that it was
not intended to present any more indictments: he and those learned
gentlemen who had assisted him had examined the various cases, which
might have formed the subjects of prosecution; but in that discretion,
with which they had been intrusted, they had determined to exercise a
lenity, which he hoped would produce its proper effect with the
prisoners and their associates.
The grand jury then retired, and sentence of death was passed upon
fifteen prisoners by Mr. Baron Thompson.
On Saturday at eleven o'clock, John Hill, Joseph Crowther, Nathaniel
Hayle, Jonathan Deane, John Ogden, Thomas Brook, and John Walker, were
brought out on the scaffold to undergo the last sentence of the law.
They appeared to be fully sensible of the awful situation in which they
were placed; and having hung till twelve o'clock, they were cut down, in
order to make way for those prisoners who were to be executed
subsequently on the same day.
In about an hour and a half after they had been removed, John Swallow,
John Batley, Joseph Fisher, William Hartley, James Haigh, James Hey, and
Job Hay, were also executed. The crowd of persons assembled was
immense.
HUFFEY WHITE AND RICHARD KENDALL.
EXECUTED FOR ROBBING THE LEEDS MAIL.
Huffey White was a more expert and notorious housebreaker, and
perpetrated more adroit burglaries and robberies, than any other
malefactor of his time. His first conviction appears to have taken place
in the year 1809, when he was found guilty of a burglary, and sentenced
to be transported for life. Preparatory to his being sent abroad, he was
conveyed on board the hulks at Woolwich; but disliking the treatment he
experienced there, he contrived to make his escape, and once more
visited the scenes of his former crimes in London. At this time he
became acquainted with the notorious Jem Mackcoull; and as a means of
replenishing his exchequer, he agreed to accompany him to Chester, for
the purpose of robbing the bank there.
White, it appears, lodged in the house of a blacksmith, named Scottock,
in London, who supplied him with the necessary implements; and the two
villains having directed the smith to forward them the keys, &c. to
Chester, set off for that place early in 1810; and having made their
observations, called at the coach-office for the box of implements.
Unfortunately for their project, the friction of the coach had broken
one corner of the box, through which a skeleton key suspiciously
obtruded; and an officer having been made acquainted with the fact, he
was concealed when White and Mackcoull came to demand the box, and
having secured them both, they were committed to the house of correction
as rogues and vagabonds.
Mackcoull went by the name of Martin, and White assumed that of Evans;
but a description of their persons being transmitted to Bow-street, an
officer was sent, who quickly recognised them both; and White was
brought to trial at the next assizes, and received sentence of death for
being at large before the expiration of his period of transportation;
but this sentence was afterwards commuted to transportation for life,
and he was once more sent to his former station in the hulks, Mackcoull
remaining in Chester jail, in which he was sentenced to be confined for
six months.
At the expiration of the term of his imprisonment, Mackcoull returned to
London, and agreeing with one French to rob the Glasgow bank, they
wished for the assistance of Huffey White, and actually contrived to
liberate him from the hulks, before they set off for Scotland.
On their reaching the scene of their intended depredation, they took
lodgings in the house of a Mrs. Stewart; and although they appeared to
be persons engaged in no particular business, they were nevertheless
actively employed in maturing their plans for the burglary. In this way
nearly six weeks passed away, the most anxious care being taken that no
circumstance should occur which could excite suspicion. The exact
position of the banking-house, and of all the apartments in which money
was kept, was ascertained and accurately noted down; and that no chance
of success should be lost, the thieves actually made themselves
acquainted with the persons who had charge of the banking-house, through
whose innocent instrumentality they procured much of the information
which they required. Their implements having reached them, however, from
London, they found that none of them were calculated for the purpose
which they had in view, and White, who had assumed the name of Down, was
despatched to the metropolis with the necessary instructions to procure
fit instruments. On his return he was amply provided; and at length, on
Sunday evening, when the honest bank-keepers were gone to church, the
burglary was effected, and 20,000_l._, in Scotch bank-notes, were
carried off. The party judged rightly, that Glasgow was no place for
them to remain in any longer, and they immediately set off in a
post-chaise for London, changing a 20_l._ note at every stage. From the
able manner in which the robbery had been effected, and from all the
doors and cupboards being found locked as they had been left, it was not
discovered, nor indeed suspected, until the following day, when pursuit,
with a chance of catching the thieves, was of course hopeless; but
information being conveyed to London, the fugitives were traced to have
proceeded thither, and White was apprehended in the house of his old
ally, Scottock, with a number of housebreaking implements in his
possession. All search for money proved of no avail however, the notes
having been duly lodged in the hands of an experienced "banker;" and the
exertions of the officers to apprehend the other offender were equally
futile. In accordance with a system then existing to a very great
extent, but now, happily, put an end to, negotiations were commenced by
the thieves with the banking company for the restoration of the notes
upon certain terms, one of which was, that no prosecution should take
place; and Sayer, the officer, being employed, matters were at length
satisfactorily adjusted; but upon the notes being restored, it was
found, that instead of the sum stolen, 11,041_l._ only were given up,
and the gulled agent returned to Scotland, compelled to put up with what
he could get.
In the mean time, however, White was conveyed back to the hulks to serve
out the remainder of his sentence, but he soon contrived again to
escape; but he now confined his depredations to the country, where he
committed various burglaries. While at large, he contrived, by skeleton
keys, &c., to open the doors of the Kettering bank; and such was the
masterly manner in which he effected his entrance, and conducted the
business, that the bankers, Messrs. Keep and Gotch, remained ignorant of
the attempted robbery, until an accomplice subsequently detailed the
transaction. It was conceived to be impossible for such a thing to take
place without, at least, exciting suspicion; and the information was
treated as untrue, until the number of the page in which the London
banking account was kept was told, which it was known could only have
been learned by an inspection of the private ledger. It appears,
however, that in this instance "ignorance was bliss;" for although the
thieves had carried off nothing, because the state of the exchequer did
not present a sufficient temptation, they had fully made up their minds
to pay the house a second visit, in the hope of making a more successful
"haul." But from this they were prevented by the apprehension of White,
who was the prime mover of these proceedings, and his execution on a
charge of robbing the Leeds mail at Higham Ferrers, in Northamptonshire,
on the 29th of October, 1812.
The circumstances of this case are as follow:--The guard having gone to
the coach-box on the night in question from his accustomed seat at the
back of the mail, the robbers contrived during his absence, and without
exciting his suspicion, to open the lock, and carry off the mail-bags.
Information of the robbery having been conveyed to London, Richard and
John Limbrick, two Bow-street officers, were despatched in search of the
thieves; and hearing that White was at Bristol, they proceeded thither,
having little doubt that he was one of the parties concerned. On their
arrival they found that he was living with two fellows named Ned Burkitt
and John Goodman, both well-known thieves; and it was determined to
watch them, in order that a favourable opportunity might be seized to
secure their persons. Several days passed before they were able to
attempt the capture of their prey; but at length, Goodman and his wife
having been taken into custody upon a charge of robbing the Canterbury
bank, of which they were suspected, a favourable opportunity presented
itself. The officers in consequence went boldly to the house occupied by
the thieves, and having given a loud knock at the door, they were
answered by Burkitt. They immediately rushed in, but were met with a
most violent opposition, in the course of which White managed to make
his escape over a shed at the back.
His career was, however, drawing to a close, and information having
reached the officers that Liverpool was to be favoured by his presence,
they were soon on the look out for him in that city. Early in the month
of April 1813, he was found to have entered Liverpool, and inquiries
being made, he was traced to the house of an old woman named Mary Howes,
_alias_ Taylor, in the Scotland Road there. The Limbricks in consequence
proceeded thither, when their entrance was opposed by the old woman; but
some force being applied, the door was opened, and they proceeded
directly to the cellar. They there found White and a man named Haywood,
evidently prepared to make a desperate resistance, but the officers
being equally resolute, after a violent conflict, in the course of which
a pistol was fired by one of the constables, the thieves were secured.
Upon the house being searched a great variety of house-breaking
implements was found, concealed under a flag in the cellar, and Mrs.
Howes was also taken into custody.
At the ensuing summer assizes at Northampton, White, Kendall, and the
woman Mary Howes, were indicted for the robbery of the Leeds mail; and
it was proved that on the evening on which the robbery was effected, the
two first-named prisoners were seen on the road in a gig near Higham
Ferrers, and subsequently on the same night at the house of Mrs. Howes,
who then lived very near. It was also shown that no other gig but that
in which the prisoners rode passed through the turnpike on that evening,
and the prisoners were afterwards seen together, and were traced to
London, where White offered to negotiate some of the bills and notes,
the produce of the robbery, with one Richardson, who had been before
this time convicted of robbing the house of the Marchioness of
Downshire.
Forty witnesses were examined on this trial, which lasted fourteen
hours; and such was the interest produced, that the court was crowded to
excess. The judge having charged the jury, they retired, and soon
afterwards returned, finding White and Kendall guilty, but they
acquitted the woman, in accordance with the direction of the Court; it
appearing that her offence did not take place in the county in which she
was arraigned.
The night preceding the execution of these convicts, White attempted to
make his escape, and had succeeded so far as to cut off his irons, and
break through several doors; but he was stopped at the outward gate,
and reconducted to his cell. At nine o'clock, August the 13th, 1813, the
procession approached the place of execution at Northampton. Kendall
appeared deeply impressed with a sense of the awful fate that awaited
him; but uniformly persisted in declaring his innocence, and said that
he fell a victim in consequence of his having had the misfortune to be
in company with his fellow-sufferer on the night of the robbery. He
declared, on the gallows, that he was a murdered man, and appealed to
the populace, in a speech of some length, in which he endeavoured to
convince them of his perfect innocence.
White's deportment was such as to exhibit his extreme carelessness of
life. Hardihood never forsook him, and he more than once found fault
with the manner in which the chaplain performed his duty. From the time
of his conviction he disregarded the gallows; and, being humanely asked
by a clergyman if he could administer any sort of comfort to him,
answered, "Only by getting some other man to be hanged for me." He
declared Kendall innocent a few minutes before they were launched into
eternity.
PHILIP NICHOLSON
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The case of this unfortunate wretch is one of a peculiarly distressing
character, presenting a crime of a most fearful nature, committed
without the most remote cause of provocation, and apparently also
without motive.
It appears that the malefactor was a footman in the employment of Mr.
and Mrs. Bonar, an aged and respectable couple, who resided at a mansion
called Camden Place, situated in the village of Chiselhurst, in Kent.
The establishment consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Bonar, two female domestics,
who slept in an apartment at the rear of the house, a groom and
coachman, who slept in a room over the stable, and the wretched man
Nicholson, who had his bed in the hall, and who was the only man-servant
who slept in the house.
On the night of Sunday, the 30th of May, 1813, Mr. Bonar retired to
rest, at his usual hour, twelve o'clock, and his lady followed at about
two o'clock, having been undressed in the ante-room to the bed-room by
her maid.
During the night no noise or disturbance of any kind was heard by the
servants, and at half-past six o'clock in the morning one of the garden
labourers called up Nicholson and remarked to him that the hall door and
window-shutters were open, a circumstance of which he declared he was
unaware. At seven o'clock the servant-women got up, and one of them on
going into the ante-room of her mistress's bed-room observed foot-marks
of blood plainly visible on the floor. In great agitation she
communicated what she had seen to her fellow-servants, and on their all
going up to ascertain the truth of what they had been told, they became
alarmed lest murder had been committed, and determined to ascertain the
truth of their surmises. Upon their entering Mr. Bonar's apartment, they
found their master and mistress lying dead, the former on the floor,
literally swimming with blood, while the latter lay on the bed, in a
similar condition. A kitchen poker, the instrument with which the
murders had evidently been committed, lay on the floor, and the state of
the room exhibited the utmost confusion. Nicholson was amongst those who
entered the room, and he was observed to be much agitated, and to be
very active in moving the bed-clothes, by which, if by no other means,
his own attire became stained with blood. One of the servant-women
having swooned, he roused her, and told her to attend to her mistress,
who still breathed, and upon examination this proved to be the case, and
he directly insisted that he should go to town for a surgeon.
On the road he was seen to drink copiously of brandy, and a little after
eight o'clock he arrived at the house of Mr. Astley Cooper, who
instantly set off for Camden Place, in the hope of affording surgical
assistance to the murdered lady. Nicholson went next to the Red Lion,
near Bedlam, where he saw a man named Dale, who had been only a few
weeks discharged for improper conduct from Mr. Bonar's service; and to
whom he used this remarkable expression: "The deed is done, and you are
suspected; but you are not in it." He then proceeded to the office at
Bow-street, in a state of intoxication, to give information of the
murder, and having mentioned his interview with Dale, that person was
brought to the office; but he established a most satisfactory _alibi_,
and was discharged. Three officers immediately set off for Chiselhurst,
and Mr. Cooper arrived with all possible despatch at Camden Place, but
was too late; the wound was mortal, and Mrs. Bonar expired at eleven
minutes past one o'clock, having been through the whole previous time
insensible, and having only once uttered the exclamation of "Oh dear!"
"We never witnessed," says one who saw it, "such a scene of horror as
the bed-room presented. Almost the first object which met the eye on
entering was the dead body of Mr. Bonar, with the head and hands steeped
in blood: the skull was literally broken into fragments in two or three
places; and there was a dreadful laceration across the nose, as if
effected by the edge of a poker. His hands were mangled in several
places, apparently by the same instrument: there was also a severe wound
on the right knee. From the numerous wounds on the body of Mr. Bonar,
the swollen state of his mouth, and the convulsive contraction of his
hands and knees, it is clear that he had struggled with all his force
against his horrid murderer. The most shocking circumstance connected
with this spectacle was the appearance of the night-cap, which lay a few
paces from the head, drenched in blood, with a lock of grey hair
sticking to it, which seemed to have been struck from the skull by the
violence of the blow of the poker. The pillows of his bed lay at his
feet, completely dyed in blood. The manly athletic person of Mr.
Bonar--for, though advanced in life, he seems to have been a powerful
man--gave an increase of horror to this afflicting sight. The view of
Mrs. Bonar, though equally distressing, excited more pity than terror:
though her head had been fractured in a dreadful manner, yet there was a
calm softness in her countenance, more resembling a healthy sleep than a
violent death; it might have been supposed that her life had parted from
her without one painful effort. The linen and pillow of the bed in which
she lay were covered with blood, as was also the bed of Mr. Bonar. They
slept in small separate beds, but placed so close together that there
was scarce room for a person to pass between them. The interval of floor
between the beds was almost a stream of blood. No slight additional
horror arose from the contrast of the spacious handsome apartment in
which this scene of death was exhibited. The most heart-moving spectacle
yet remained. About seven o'clock in the evening, Mr. Bonar, jun.,
arrived from Faversham, where he was on duty as Colonel of the Kent
local militia. In spite of the efforts of Mr. Angerstein, jun., and some
other gentlemen, he rushed up stairs exclaiming, 'Let me see my father!
indeed I must see him.' It was impossible to detain him: he burst into
the bed-chamber, and immediately locked the door after him.
Apprehensions were entertained for his safety, and the door was broken
open, when he was seen kneeling with clasped hands over the body of his
father. His friends bore him away, and hurried him, tottering and
fainting, into an adjoining chamber."
The officers proceeded, immediately on their arrival, to investigate all
the circumstances attending this horrid deed, and an examination of the
house clearly exhibited the fact that no stranger had been guilty of the
murder. They were at a loss to know on whom to fix their suspicions;
when the discovery of a pair of shoes belonging to Nicholson, marked
with blood, and which corresponded with the bloody footprints in the
ante room, tended to produce a belief that he was the guilty man. He had
not returned to his master's house since he had first quitted it in
search of surgical aid; and Forrester, one of the City officers, was in
consequence despatched in quest of him. After a lengthy and diligent
inquiry, he was traced to Whitechapel, and he was there found drinking
at the door of the Three Nuns Inn. He was immediately seized, and in
spite of great resistance was conveyed in custody to Giltspur-street
Compter; but he persisted in denying all knowledge of the murder. On the
Tuesday he was sent down to Chiselhurst, where the coroner's inquest sat
on the bodies of the unhappy deceased lady and gentleman, and the
evidence being gone through before the coroner, Mr. Martyr, he was
reading over the depositions of the several witnesses for their assent
and signature, when an alarm was given that Nicholson had attempted his
own life. He had been in custody of two officers, and requested leave to
go into the yard, which was refused; but he was permitted to enter a
water-closet in the passage leading to the servants' hall; while there
he cut his throat with a razor, which, it appeared, he had concealed in
the front of his breeches. The gash was so deep, and it bled so
profusely, that it was supposed he could not live many minutes. The head
seemed almost severed from his body. Two surgeons from Bromley being
fortunately present, they took the necessary steps to prevent his death,
and after a short time he was sufficiently recovered to speak; but he
persisted in declaring his innocence.
In the course of the evening, the coroner's jury returned a verdict of
"Wilful Murder against Philip Nicholson," and he was committed to the
custody of proper officers. He was subsequently visited by many persons
of distinction, whose attention was attracted by the horrible and
atrocious nature of the murder; and on Monday the 7th June, in
consequence of the annoyance and pain to which he was subjected, his
wound began bleeding afresh. In a few minutes the hæmorrhage increased
to a most alarming extent, and fears being entertained for his life, Mr.
Astley Cooper was sent for. The wretched prisoner became alarmed,
believing that he was at the point of death; and he, in consequence,
sent for Mr. Bonar, junior, to whom he made an ample confession of his
guilt, but assigned no reason for the commission of the diabolical act.
In consequence of the statement he made the garden was searched, and
concealed in a laurel bush was found his body linen deeply stained with
blood, the neck and front of his shirt being much torn, in consequence,
evidently, of the resistance made by the victims to his attack.
The wretched prisoner subsequently conducted himself more calmly than he
had hitherto done; he declared his repentance for the attempt which he
had committed upon his life, and, as much apprehension was entertained
of his death, everything that could disturb him was studiously kept out
of his way.
In consequence of the great care which was paid to him, he was at length
pronounced out of danger, and was then committed to the house of
correction, Coldbath-fields, where he remained until the 17th of August,
on which day he was conveyed to Maidstone jail for trial.
On the 20th of the same month he was arraigned upon the indictment
preferred against him, to which he pleaded not guilty. The case was
fully made out against him; and the prisoner declared that he had only
traversed the allegations in the indictment because he had been advised
to do so by his friends. The jury therefore found him guilty, and he was
immediately sentenced to death by Mr. Justice Heath in the usual form.
Immediately after the sentence, the prisoner put in a paper, and desired
it to be read. The judge said that this was irregular, but looked at the
paper, and told the jury that it contained a confession of crime, which
was imputed to excessive drinking.
The paper which he put in and desired to be read was as follows:--
"I acknowledge with the deepest contrition the justice of the sentence
unto death which has been just passed upon me. My crimes are, indeed,
most heavy; I feel their weight, but I do not despair; nay, I humbly
hope for mercy, through the infinite mercy of my Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ, who bled and died for me. In order to have a well-grounded hope
in him, my all-merciful Redeemer, I know that it is my bounden duty not
only to grieve from my heart for my dire offences, but also to do my
utmost to make satisfaction for them. Yet, alas! what satisfaction can I
make to the afflicted family of my master and mistress, whom without any
provocation I so barbarously murdered? I can make none beyond the
declaration of my guilt and horror of soul that I could perpetrate deeds
so shocking to human nature, and so agonising to the feelings of that
worthy family. I implore their forgiveness, for God's sake; and fully
sensible of their great goodness, I do hope that, for His sake, they
will forgive me. I freely give up my life as a just forfeit to my
country, whose laws I have scandalously outraged. Departing this
tribunal, I shall soon appear before another tribunal, where an eternal
sentence will be passed upon me. With this dread sentence full in my
view, I do most solemnly declare, and I desire this declaration to be
taken as my dying words, that I alone was the base and cruel murderer of
my master and mistress; that I had no accomplice; that no one knew or
possibly could suspect that I intended to perpetrate those barbarities;
that I myself had no intention of committing those horrid deeds, save
for a short time, so short as scarcely to be computed, before I actually
committed them; that booty was not the motive of my fatal cruelties; I
am sure the idea of plunder never presented itself to my mind: I can
attribute those unnatural murders to no other cause than, at the time of
their commission, a temporary fury from excessive drinking; and before
that time to the habitual forgetfulness, for many years, of the great
God and his judgments, and the too natural consequence of such
forgetfulness, the habitual yielding to the worst passions of corrupted
nature; so that the evil that I was tempted to do, that I did: the Lord
in his mercy has, nevertheless, spared until now my life--that life
which I, in an agony of horror and despair, once most wickedly attempted
to destroy: He has most graciously allowed me time for repentance; an
humble and contrite heart must be His gift; that gift I hope He has
granted to my most ardent supplications: in that hope, and bearing in
mind His promise that an humble and contrite heart He will not despise,
I, freely offering up to Him my sufferings, and my life itself, look
forward, through his most precious blood, to the pardon of all my
crimes, my manifold and most enormous crimes, and most humbly trust that
the same mercy which He showed to the penitent thief who was crucified
with him He will show to me: thus meekly confiding in thee, O Jesus!
into thy hands I commend my spirit. Amen.
"PHILIP NICHOLSON.
"This 20th August, 1813."
The signature was in Nicholson's own hand-writing: the rest appeared
written by another hand.
After sentence of death was passed, the wretched culprit was placed in
the condemned cell, which in the Maidstone jail is underground. In this
cell Mr. Bonar had an interview with him, at half-past five on Monday
morning, 22nd August, the day fixed for his execution. On his
approaching the cell, he found Nicholson on his knees at prayer.
At about twelve o'clock, the preparations for the removal of the
prisoner being nearly completed, Mr. Bonar, accompanied by his brother,
and Mr. Bramston, the Catholic clergyman, had another interview with the
unfortunate man, soon after which, the hurdle or sledge, which was in
the shape of a shallow box, about six feet by three, was drawn up to the
jail door; at each end was a seat just capable of holding two persons.
Nicholson, double ironed, was first placed in it, with his back to the
horses; he was also pinioned with ropes, and round his shoulders was
coiled the fatal cord; by his side sat the executioner; opposite to the
prisoner the Rev. Mr. Bramston took his seat, and by his side sat one of
the Maidstone jailors with a loaded blunderbuss. Everything being in
readiness, the procession advanced at a very slow pace towards Pennenden
Heath, which is distant from Maidstone nearly a mile and a half, on
which was erected a temporary drop, which had a platform raised seven
feet from the ground, and was large enough to contain about a dozen
persons. A little before two o'clock the hurdle arrived, and stopped
immediately under the gallows, when Mr. Bramston and Nicholson knelt
down on it, and remained for a while in prayer. Some time previous to
this, Mr. Bonar arrived on the ground in a post-chaise, and took his
stand within twelve yards of the fatal spot, with the front windows full
on the gallows, which he kept open during the whole time; but each of
the side windows was closed by blinds. So anxious was Mr. Bonar to get
from the unfortunate wretch his very dying words, as to whether he had
either motive or accomplice, that a person was deputed to ascend the
platform after the cord was round the prisoner's neck, and to ask him
questions upon the subject of the murder. The wretched being repeatedly
declared that he had no accomplice in the diabolical deed; and in
answer to the last question put to him,--"Had you any antipathy to
either your master or mistress before you committed the horrid
murder?"--clasping his hands together as well as his close bonds would
permit him, he answered, "As God is in heaven it was a momentary
thought, as I have repeatedly declared before."
The above were the last words of this unhappy man; and in a few minutes
after they were uttered, the bottom of the platform was let fall, and
Nicholson was launched into eternity. He died unusually hard, being
greatly convulsed. It appeared from the account he gave of himself, that
he was a native of Ireland, and had been discharged from the thirteenth
dragoons in consequence of a broken wrist. He subsequently lived three
years with the city remembrancer, and had been only three weeks in the
employ of his late master, Mr. Bonar. Among the servants at Camden Place
he was looked upon as a man of harmless disposition and good nature,
with no discernible failing but one, drunkenness, to which he was so
greatly addicted, that he was seldom sober when he could procure any
spirits.
The sensation which the murder produced throughout the country was
amazing.
MICHAEL M'ILVENA.
EXECUTED FOR UNLAWFULLY PERFORMING THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY.
This villain was a native of Ireland; and in his migrations through the
northern part of that kingdom, personated, successively, the characters
of a Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a lawyer. The last
place we find him in was the village of Ballinahinch, where he went
under the appellation of The Counsellor. While here he became acquainted
with a man of the name of Christopher Jennings, with whom he conspired
to debauch a young girl, named Mary Hair.
This unsuspecting creature was only seventeen years of age, and had been
a servant for a year and a half with a Mr. Knox of Drumanockan, near
Dromore, and having spent the Christmas of 1812 with her parents, she
was on her way back to her place, when she met her acquaintance Jennings
on the road. He conducted her to a public-house to treat her, and there,
as he had done before, made proposals of marriage to her. The poor girl
had before looked upon him with a favouring eye, and she took him at his
word, saying, that if he could find a priest, she would marry him at
once. They in consequence went together to Ballinahinch, and Jennings
took his bride into a public-house where M'Ilvena was sitting, and
introduced him to her as the minister, who was to marry them. A little
coyness was exhibited, and some mistrust was shown by the girl at her
being married in a public-house; but her scruples having been overcome,
the marriage was directed to be begun.
M'Ilvena, with assumed sanctity, pulled out his book, and went through
what Mary thought were the proper forms, joining their hands, and
interrogating the parties in the usual manner. After the ceremony, the
poor girl asked for a certificate. This was at first refused; but as she
insisted on it, the supposed parson took pen and ink, and wrote the
following:--
"These are to certify, that Mary Hair is this day joined in marriage to
Christopher Jennings, of Drumara. As given under my hand, this 26th
December, 1812.--W. M'I."
This scrawl contented the deluded girl; and the parson then intimated
that he was always paid for such duties. Mary gave him ten tenpennies;
but he threw them down with an indignant air, exclaiming, "Am I to be
college-bred and learned, and not receive my just dues?" But no more
money was forthcoming, and the parson was obliged to put up with what he
had got, contenting himself with wetting the bargain with a jug of
punch. The unfortunate girl was then conducted to the house of an old
woman named M'Kee, where her husband was admitted to all the marital
rights; and on the next morning she was bid by him to give notice of the
event to her master and mistress, and he undertook to break the business
to her father and mother. The poor girl was parting from him with
reluctance for this purpose, when he told her unblushingly that she was
not his wife, and that she was deceived.
The unhappy girl was immediately awakened to all the misery of her
situation; and she ran, in a state of distraction, to her parents, to
whom she related all that had occurred. The necessary proceedings were
immediately taken, and the _counsellor_ and Jennings were committed to
prison. At the summer assizes for Downpatrick, August the 17th, 1813,
they were brought up for trial. M'Ilvena was first indicted; and Mary
Hair having deposed to the foregoing facts, she was cross-examined, with
a view to affect her testimony, by endeavouring to make her acknowledge
a former connexion with Jennings; a fact, however, which she indignantly
denied.
M'Ilvena, in his defence, produced Jennings, who swore, first, that he
had an intimate knowledge of the prosecutrix long before the time
mentioned in the indictment; next, that she never represented herself as
his wife; and that M'Ilvena never pretended to join their hands
together, or otherwise unite them in marriage.
Jennings, having given his evidence, was ordered back into the dock from
whence he had come, and M'Ilvena was found guilty; after which he was
called on, in the usual form, to say why sentence of death should not be
passed on him. He appeared quite unmoved, and said he was not guilty of
the crime imputed to him. The judge then proceeded to pass sentence on
him; which he did in a very impressive manner, though frequently
interrupted by exclamations of innocence from the prisoner. The offence
being made by a particular act of parliament a capital felony, he was
sentenced to be hanged. He asked for a long day, which was humanely
granted, and his execution was deferred to the 18th of September, on
which day it took place, in the midst of a vast concourse of spectators.
The day after M'Ilvena's trial, Jennings was placed at the bar, on an
indictment for conspiring to debauch Mary Hair. He was almost instantly
found guilty; when the judge told him his crime was much enhanced by the
attempt he had made to screen his accomplice from punishment, in which
he had committed wilful and corrupt perjury. The sentence of the court
was, that he should stand for an hour on the pillory, be imprisoned for
one year, and pay a fine of fifty pounds.
JAMES MITCHELL.
EXECUTED FOR MURDER.
The subject of this narrative was a native of Salisbury, and his first
occupation was that of a ploughboy in the service of a farmer near his
birthplace. Having afterwards removed to London, he obtained a situation
as groom in a gentleman's family; and while so employed he became
acquainted with Miss Welchman, whose life he subsequently took away.
Miss Welchman was a ladies' dressmaker, and lived as forewoman with Miss
Macey, who carried on that business in Mount Street. She was an elegant
young woman, about four-and-twenty years of age, and of a most amiable
disposition. To her, in an evil hour, Mitchell paid his addresses, under
the name of Smith, and represented himself as purser on board some ship.
The credulous girl believed him worthy and honourable, and permitted him
to visit her, at the house of her employer, where he was, for some time,
treated with politeness and friendship. At length his own conduct
betrayed the deception he had practised. He obtruded himself at improper
hours, and more than once offended the young ladies in the work-room by
the coarseness and indelicacy of his conversation. This coming to the
knowledge of Miss Welchman's brother, he prevailed, with some
difficulty, on his sister to forego the acquaintance of her lover.
In accordance with this advice, Miss Welchman had several interviews on
the subject with Mitchell; but notwithstanding her desire that he would
not again visit her, he persisted in annoying her. On Friday the 5th of
August, 1814, he called at Mount Street, and was ushered into the
work-room, where Miss Welchman was sitting. He continued there during
the whole evening, notwithstanding the repeated requests made to him
that he would leave; and, as it grew late, he desired Miss Welchman to
provide supper for him, and subsequently to lend him money. Both
requests were refused, and eventually at eleven o'clock Miss Macey and
her work-people went away to supper, Mitchell being now left alone. Miss
Welchman, however, returned to him, saying that she desired to be alone
with him for about five minutes; but she had scarcely entered the room
when a loud scream was heard, immediately followed by the report of
pistols. Her companions immediately rushed into the apartment, and found
Miss Welchman a lifeless corpse on the floor, a pair of pistols lying by
her side, which on inspection bore evident marks of being the
instruments with which the murder had been perpetrated. The hat of
Mitchell was also discovered; but the window was open, and it was found
that the assassin had escaped by descending into the street, by that
means.
On examination, it was found that Miss Welchman had been shot in the
head; one bullet had entered her temple, and the other had been resisted
by the substance of the forehead.
The murderer, in the mean time, had succeeded in making his escape, and
the officers of justice were despatched in pursuit of him, but without
effect; for, as he had been for a length of time out of place, a clue to
his last residence was not easily found. At length word was brought to
town that he was in custody at his native place, Salisbury, to which he
had bent his steps, and where he had been recognised by his old master
the farmer, who, having heard of the murder, immediately had him
scoured.
On the 13th of August he was brought up to Bow Street, in the custody of
Taunton the officer, where he underwent an examination, after which he
was fully committed to Newgate. He appeared very little affected at his
situation, and preserved a sullen silence.
On Friday, September the 16th, he was arraigned at the Old Bailey for
the murder of Miss Welchman. The evidence was circumstantial, but
conclusive; and, when called on for his defence, he denied the crime
with which he was charged, and said that it was not proved the pistols
and hat were his. He called no witnesses, and the jury having been
charged, retired for a few minutes, and returned with a verdict of
Guilty.
The Recorder, after silence had been proclaimed, pronounced the dreadful
sentence of the law, which was heard by the prisoner without the
slightest emotion.
He was executed on the 19th September with a man named Hollings, who had
been convicted of a similar offence in the murder of his step-daughter,
to whom he had formed an attachment, notwithstanding his having married
her mother; and whom he murdered in the street, at the door of her
master, Mr. Cartwright, in Lower Grosvenor Street, because she had
refused to accede to his disgusting and lustful propositions.
So great was the public curiosity to see the unfortunate malefactors,
that at seven o'clock on the morning of the execution, the Old Bailey
and Giltspur Street were crowded to a degree almost unprecedented. Much
money was given for indifferent seats at the top of the houses opposite
the Debtors' Door; and carts, waggons, and other vehicles were put in
requisition. At a quarter before eight the prisoners were introduced to
the Press-yard, for the purpose of having their irons knocked off,
accompanied by the Reverend Mr. Cotton and the Reverend Mr. Frere, the
latter of whom sat up in constant prayer all the night with Hollings,
who joined most fervently in the devotion. Mitchell, who was dressed in
black, was first brought out from the cell; he looked pale, and
maintained a deportment of sullen resignation; he did not say a word,
nor did he betray the slightest symptoms of feeling at his awful
situation. The irons being knocked off and the usual ceremony of tying
the hands being executed, he lifted his hand as far as he was permitted,
and looking up, bowed, and appeared to be in prayer. Hollings stepped
forward to the block with great activity. He was, however, very
tranquil; and upon being disencumbered of his irons, he addressed the
persons around him in nearly the following words: "Here, you see, I
stand a victim to passion and barbarity: my crime is great, and I
acknowledge the justice of my sentence. But, oh! the unfortunate girl I
loved, I adored as one of my own. I have made contrition, and prayed for
forgiveness; I resign myself under an impression that Almighty God has
heard my prayers, and will forgive me: may you and the world take
warning by my example; and here I confess the justice of my
fate--receive my soul, O God!" At the last expression his feelings
overcame him, and he wept.
The whole of the awful arrangements being complete, the prisoners were
ushered to the fatal scaffold. Mitchell was until this time firm and
unconcerned; but he now became much agitated, and the horrors of death
were strongly portrayed in his countenance. Hollings shook hands with
the officers of justice, declared to Mr. Frere that he was quite happy,
and mounted the scaffold with great firmness and resignation. The
clergymen continued to pray to them until the fatal signal was given,
when the drop fell. Mitchell continued in the strongest convulsions for
several minutes, and appeared to die very hard.
After they had hung some time, three females were introduced, for the
application of the "dead man's hand," supposed to remove marks, wens,
&c. The first was a young woman of interesting appearance, who was so
much affected by the ceremony that she was obliged to be supported.
At nine the bodies were cut down, and sent to St. Bartholomew's Hospital
for dissection.
MAJOR J. G. SEMPLE, _alias_ LISLE.
CONVICTED OF SWINDLING.
The case of this offender has obtained considerable notoriety, from the
circumstance of his conviction having been disputed, and from the
decision upon it having therefore became a precedent often quoted in our
courts of law.
Semple, it appears, was born in Scotland in 1759, of a respectable
family; and in the year 1775, at the age of sixteen years, he entered
the army, and went to America. In the following year he was taken
prisoner of war, but was soon after released, and retired from service
with a pension for wounds.
He subsequently entered the army of Frederic the Great of Prussia; but
in 1779 he again returned to England, and then married an English lady
of great respectability, whom he met at Harwich. During a visit to
France a short time afterwards, he became acquainted with the Duchess of
Kingston, _alias_ the Countess of Bristol, (whose case we have already
given,) whom he accompanied on her visit to Russia, and having there
consented to join the Russian service, he was appointed captain in the
Imperial Army by Prince Potemkin. During his employment in this
capacity, his conduct was such as to gain for him many honours; but in
the year 1784, being dissatisfied with his position, he retired to
Copenhagen, from whence he eventually returned to England, and there
misfortune fell upon him in its worst form.
On the 1st of September 1785, very soon therefore after his arrival in
this country, he was indicted for feloniously stealing a post-chaise,
value 50_l_., the property of John Lycett, a coachmaker in Whitechapel;
and upon the trial, it appeared that he had hired the post-chaise fora
limited period, as he alleged to support the character which he was
entitled to maintain, but that it was never returned. The defence set up
was that the transaction could only be looked upon in the nature of a
civil contract, and that the chaise having been regularly ordered and
sent home, no charge could be brought against the prisoner except that
arising on the sale of the carriage, and that he could only be held to
be indebted for its value. Upon argument, however, the court held that
there had been a felonious dealing with the carriage, and the prisoner
was found guilty and sentenced to be transported for seven years. He was
conveyed to Woolwich on his way to a penal settlement, but he was
eventually pardoned on condition of his going abroad.
From Woolwich therefore he went to France; and there he became
acquainted with Beruyer, Péthion, Roland, and several of the leaders of
the day. He was present at the trial of Louis XVI., and shortly after
resolved on returning to England, in consequence of the rupture with
this country, which he then saw was inevitable. He therefore obtained a
passport; he was denounced to the committee of public safety as a spy,
who was going to join the enemy; but being secretly apprised of what was
going forward, he was able to effect his escape, although with some
difficulty, before the order for his arrest was issued.
On his escape he joined the allied army against France, and
distinguished himself on various occasions, but particularly in the
battle of St. Fronde, which lasted three days; and at the time of the
retirement of the King of Prussia from this campaign, he found himself
incapacitated from service, and almost destitute of the means of
existence. After a short retirement, however, he had recovered
sufficiently to remove to Augsburgh; and on his arrival at that place he
was suddenly arrested by order of the Baron d'Ompteda, in the name of
his Britannic majesty; but his imprisonment not being legal, he was
shortly afterwards set at liberty.
Considering he had been ill used on the Continent, Semple again returned
to England; and in 1795 we again find him at the bar of the Old Bailey,
on a charge of stealing in the shop of Mr. Wattleworth, in Wigmore
Street, one yard of muslin, two yards of calico, and one linen shirt.
It was proved that the prisoner came into the shop of Mr. Wattleworth,
about noon, on the 10th of November 1794, and, showing two patterns, one
of muslin, and the other of calico, said he wanted them matched for Mrs.
Coningham, of Egham Green. They could not find an exact match in the
shop to the muslin; but he chose one; and a yard being cut off, together
with two yards of calico, he said he would give them to the lady's
servant, then at the door; and, calling in a man, he gave them to him.
He then said that he had just arrived from the Continent, and should
want a quantity of shirts, and wished to take one with him to consult
his sister, who, he thought, would be a better judge of the linen than
he was; that he would bring it back in the morning, and then give his
order. He called his sister Mrs. Coningham; and as Mr. Wattleworth had a
customer of that name, he made no hesitation, but gave him the shirt
under those conditions. This happened in November; but the prosecutor
never saw the prisoner again until January, when he was in custody in
Bow Street.
The counsel for the prisoner contended that the charge of the felony was
not made out, the evidence, if true, amounting only to that of obtaining
goods under false pretences. Mr. Justice Buller, who tried the cause,
admitted the counsel was perfectly right as to the calico and muslin;
but he did not agree with him in respect to the shirt, and therefore
left that question to the jury.
The prisoner, in his defence, entered into a history of his past life
with a view of showing, that although he had been before convicted, his
general course of conduct was not that of living by fraud; but the jury
found him guilty of stealing the shirt, and he was once more sentenced
to seven years' transportation.
Notwithstanding his notoriety, (for there were many other charges
against him,) many persons, amongst whom were Burke and Boswell,
interested themselves in his behalf; but after remaining about two years
in Newgate in a state of uncertainty as to his future destiny, he was
at length removed to Portsmouth, and from thence proceeded to New South
Wales. On the passage a mutiny broke out on board the transport in which
he sailed; and Semple being one of the ringleaders, he, with
twenty-eight others, was sent adrift in an open boat. He had contrived
to conceal a quantity of gold in some soap, and succeeded in carrying it
off with him; and after a dangerous passage, he and his companions
landed in safety at Fort St. Pedro, in the province of Rio Grande. They
were received with great hospitality by the governor of the Fort; and
Semple was introduced by his fellows as a Dutch officer and passenger, a
tale of shipwreck being trumped up; but a quarrel arising among them,
their real character was subsequently exposed. After remaining during a
considerable time at Brazils, in the year 1798 he went to Lisbon; but
there he was arrested by an order of the British minister, and sent to
Gibraltar, and while there, being suspected of being a party to a
conspiracy which was discovered, he was again arrested and sent to
Tangier.
In December 1798, a despatch arrived from England, ordering him home in
custody; and he was accordingly sent on board a ship, and arrived at
Portsmouth the following April. He was immediately conveyed to
Tothill-fields Bridewell, where he remained till he was again sent out
of the country.
From this period nothing particular occurred in the major's life until
his return from Botany Bay in 1810, when he resorted to his former evil
practices; but as he became more notorious he became less successful,
until at length he was reduced to the utmost distress, and had recourse
to the basest means of supporting a miserable existence.
In 1814 he went into a cheesemonger's shop in Devonshire Street, Queen
Square, and ordered a small quantity of bacon and butter to be sent to
No. 42, Cross Street. He met the messenger at the door, and taking the
articles from him, sent him back for six-pennyworth of eggs. When the
boy returned, he knocked at the door, and was informed that the person
he inquired for did not live there, and that they knew nothing about
him. This was true, for the major had only made a feint of going in to
deceive the boy, and had made off when the lad was out of sight.
For this offence he was apprehended, and brought to trial at the
Middlesex Sessions, December the 3rd, 1814, and found guilty, when, for
the third time, sentence of transportation for seven years was passed on
him.
WILLIAM SAWYER.
EXECUTED FOR A MURDER IN PORTUGAL.
The circumstances of this very singular case may be shortly stated as
follows:--The prisoner was engaged in the commissariat department of the
British army; and in the month of February 1814, he went out to
Portugal, where he lived in the same house in the Campo Mayor, at
Lisbon, with a friend, Mr. Riccord, who had a female, named Harriet
Gaskett, under his protection. An attachment grew up between this
unfortunate woman and Sawyer, who, however, had a wife at the time in
England; and his attentions were so apparent, that they excited the
jealousy of his brother officer, and he appears to have remonstrated
with his friend and mistress, which occasioned much infelicity.
On the 27th of April they met at dinner, with two or three other
officers; but such was the agitation of their feelings, that Riccord,
Harriet, and Sawyer ate nothing. The latter appeared greatly dejected,
and, as well as Harriet, withdrew as soon as possible.
In the evening the party heard the report of three pistol-shots; and, on
going into the garden, Harriet and Sawyer were found both lying on the
ground. Harriet was quite dead, but Sawyer had not been mortally
wounded. On his being removed into the house, he was left in the care of
a brother officer, while the others went in search of a physician; and
during their absence he contrived to get a razor, with which he cut his
throat in a dreadful manner, but not mortally.
Next day the officers met, and reduced the facts to writing; and the
prisoner signed the document, as well as a paper in the following terms:
"Having laid violent hands upon myself, in consequence of the death of
Harriet, I think it but justice to mankind and the world, being of sound
mind, solemnly to attest that her death was occasioned by her having
taken part of a phial of laudanum, and 'my' discharging a pistol at her
head, provided for the occasion. I took the residue of the laudanum
myself, and discharged two pistols at my head. They failing in their
effect, I then retired to the house and endeavoured to put an end to my
life, leaving myself the unfortunate object you now behold me.
(Signed) "WILLIAM SAWYER."
And three witnesses.
The word "my," in the above paper, was interlined.
The prisoner also signed a declaration, that Harriet Gaskett had
consented to leave Mr. Riccord and live with him, and that Mr. Riccord
had told her, on her threatening to quit him, that she might go to the
prisoner's hotel. The reason assigned by him for the attempted suicide
and murder was, that Harriet declared that she thought that Mr. Riccord
would shoot himself if she quitted him, and that she therefore would not
live; and he added, that he had shot her at her own request, and not in
consequence of any quarrel with her, and had then attempted to kill
himself.
When the prisoner was sufficiently recovered, he was removed to England,
where, shortly after his arrival, he was indicted at the Old Bailey,
April the 7th, 1815, for the above murder. His case excited great
interest, and the court was filled long before the arrival of the
judges.
The facts already stated having been proved, the prisoner was called on
for his defence. He put in a written paper, in which he stated that, in
consequence of his being unable to articulate, from the wound in his
throat, he had committed to paper all he had to say in his defence. The
paper then went on to state that the prisoner had felt the sincerest
affection for the unfortunate individual in question, towards whom he
had never meditated the slightest injury. He perfectly recollected her
having entreated him to shoot her, but had no idea of what passed
subsequently, till some time afterwards, when he was told he had signed
papers, of the contents of which he had no recollection. He then
expressed acknowledgments for the efforts made by his prosecutors to
bring forward Mr. Riccord, who would have been a material witness in his
behalf; and had only to lament that these efforts had not been attended
with success.
Several persons were called to speak to the general humane character of
the prisoner, among whom were General Sir Edward Howard and Colonel Sir
William Robe.
A Mrs. Nicholls proved that the deceased had lodged with her from June
1813, to February 1814. She was of a most violent and tyrannical
disposition, and had a pistol, which she kept constantly in her room.
Lord Ellenborough having summed up the case, the jury found the prisoner
guilty, but recommended him to mercy.
Mr. Alley and Mr. Curwood on behalf of the prisoner then moved in arrest
of judgment, upon two technical points which arose upon the face of the
indictment, and judgment was respited until the 12th of May. The court
on that day, however, gave their opinion that the grounds of motion were
unavailable, and sentence of death was immediately passed.
The prisoner appeared deeply affected throughout the proceedings, and
upon the awful decision and sentence, remained motionless for some time,
when at length he faintly requested one of the officers to entreat the
court to recommend him to the royal clemency.
Monday, May the 22d, 1815, being the day appointed for the execution of
this infatuated man, at an early hour an immense number of spectators
had assembled in the Old Bailey to witness the awful scene. After the
sentence of death was passed on him, he assumed a degree of sullenness;
and the only declaration he was heard to make was, "that he would not be
executed:" and this being considered to import that he was resolved on
self-destruction, his intentions, if such they were, were defeated by
the constant attendance of two officers night and day. On Sunday he
received the sacrament, after which he appeared more composed. About
three o'clock his wife went to the prison for the purpose of taking a
farewell: she was announced by an officer; but the unhappy man gave a
peremptory order that she should not be admitted, and all that could be
urged could not induce him to see her. When he went to his cell, he was
much depressed, and refused any kind of sustenance; and at about two
o'clock he lay down, and soon after became very sick, and vomited
copiously. He continued restless until half-past six o'clock, at which
time he was visited by the Rev. Mr. Cotton, who prayed to him fervently.
A little before eight o'clock Mr. Sheriff Reay, attended by the usual
officers, proceeded from Justice Hall towards the cell. The unfortunate
gentleman was introduced into the Press-yard by the ordinary: he was
very dejected, and did not utter a word during the time of his being
conveyed to the platform. At eight o'clock precisely, every necessary
arrangement being complete, the fatal signal was given, and the unhappy
man was launched into eternity. During the ceremony a profound silence
prevailed throughout the populace. He died under evident symptoms of
paroxysm, and a quantity of blood gushed from his mouth from the cut in
his throat. At nine o'clock the body was taken to Bartholemew's Hospital
in a cart, attended by the under-sheriff and officers. He was dressed in
a suit of black, and was not ironed.
ELIZABETH FENNING.
EXECUTED FOR ATTEMPTING TO POISON A FAMILY.
The extraordinary interest taken by the public in this case at the time
of its occurrence induces us to give it at considerable length, in order
that its weight and bearings may be justly appreciated and considered.
The propriety of the conviction of the unfortunate young woman was much
questioned; and upon a careful perusal of its circumstances we think
that at the least it must be concluded that the case was attended with
considerable doubt.
It appears that Elizabeth Fenning was born in the island of Dominica, in
the West Indies, on the 10th of June, 1793. Her father, William Fenning,
was a native of Suffolk, and belonged to the first battalion of the 15th
regiment of infantry. Her mother was a native of Cork, in Ireland: her
parents were respectable, and she was married to Fenning in 1787, in her
native town, where the regiment had been quartered. In 1790 they sailed
from the Cove of Cork for the island of Barbadoes, and from thence to
Dominica.
In 1796 or 1797 the regiment came home, having suffered great mortality,
and were quartered in Dublin. In 1802 Fenning solicited and obtained his
discharge, with a certificate of his good character, which it appears he
merited, as he rose to the rank of a non-commissioned officer; and he
then came to London, and entered the service of his brother, a
potato-dealer in Red Lion-street, Holborn, with whom he continued for
three years, and afterwards lived as servant in a potato-warehouse in
Red Lion Passage, where his correct conduct gave satisfaction to three
successive proprietors. His wife, for five years, worked for one
upholsterer--a sufficient proof of her good conduct. They had ten
children, all of whom, except the subject of this narrative, died young.
At the age of fourteen, she was placed out in service to obtain her own
living; and at the latter end of January, 1815, she was hired as cook in
the family of a Mr. Orlibar Turner, at No. 68, Chancery-lane, where she
had not been above seven weeks when circumstances unhappily arose which
led to the poor creature's being charged with an attempt to poison her
master's family.
The facts of the case will be best explained by the following report of
the trial.
Eliza Fenning was indicted at the Old Bailey, April the 11th, 1815, for
that she, on the 21st of March, feloniously and unlawfully did
administer to, and cause to be administered to, Orlibar Turner, Robert
Gregson Turner, and Charlotte Turner, his wife, certain deadly poison,
(to wit, arsenic,) with intent the said persons to kill and murder.
The case was stated by Mr. Gurney; after which--
Mrs. Charlotte Turner deposed--I am the wife of Mr. Robert Gregson
Turner, who is a law-stationer in Chancery-lane, in partnership with his
father, Mr. Orlibar Turner, who lives at Lambeth. About seven weeks
before the accident, the prisoner came into my service as cook; and
about three weeks after, I had occasion to reprove her, for I observed
her, one night, go into the young men's room partly undressed. There
were two young men, about seventeen or eighteen years old. I reproved
her severely next morning for her conduct; and the excuse was, that she
went in to fetch the candle. I threatened to discharge her, but on her
expressing sorrow for the offence, I forgave her, and she remained in my
employment. During the subsequent month, I observed that she failed to
pay me that respect which I considered due to me, and she appeared
extremely sullen. About a fortnight before the transaction now charged
against her, she requested me to permit her to make some yeast
dumplings, saying that she was a capital hand at it; and she frequently
subsequently repeated the same request. On Monday the 20th of March, she
came to me in the dining-room, and again asked me to allow her to make
some dumplings, and said that the brewer had brought some yeast; and I
said that as that was the case she might make the dumplings the next
day, although that was not the way in which I usually had them made, as
I generally had the dough from the baker's. On Tuesday morning I went
into the kitchen according to my custom, and I bade the prisoner make a
beef-steak pie for the young men before she made the dumplings, and she
carried the pie to the baker's before kneading the dough. I gave her
some directions as to the manner in which I liked the dumplings, and
then went away. In about half-an-hour, however, I returned into the
kitchen, and I then found the dough placed before the fire to rise. I
have another servant in my employment named Sarah Peer, but I am certain
that she could not have entered the kitchen during the time occupied in
the preparation of the dumplings, as she was engaged by my direction in
a bedroom mending a counterpane. I was subsequently in and out of the
kitchen two or three times, and I observed that the dough did not rise.
It was in a singular shape; and it remained heavy all the time. At about
three o'clock we sat down to dinner, and there were six dumplings
brought to table. I observed to Sarah Peer that they were black and
heavy instead of their being white and light. My husband, Robert Gregson
Turner, and his father, Orlibar Turner, sat down to dinner with me: I
helped them to some dumplings, and took a small piece myself. I found
myself affected in a few minutes after I had eaten it. I did not eat a
quarter of a dumpling. I felt myself very faint--an excruciating pain,
which increased every minute: it came so bad that I was obliged to leave
the table--I went up stairs. I ate, beside the dumpling, a piece of
rump-steak cooked by Eliza. When I was up stairs I perceived my sickness
increased, and I observed my head was swollen extremely. I retched very
violently: I was half an hour alone, and wondered they did not come to
my assistance. I found my husband and father very ill--both of them. I
was very ill from half-past-three until about nine; the violence then
abated, but did not cease. My head and my tongue and chest were swollen.
We called in a gentleman who was near, and afterwards Mr. Marshall, the
surgeon. We applied for the nearest assistance we could get.
_Cross-examined by Mr. Alley._--This happened about six weeks after the
girl came to live with me. I have heard the prisoner herself was taken
very ill.
Orlibar Turner deposed--I am the father of Robert Gregson Turner. On
Tuesday, the 21st day of March, I was at my son's house in
Chancery-lane: I dined there. The dinner consisted of yeast dumplings,
beef-steaks, and potatoes. After some time Mrs. Turner left the room
indisposed. At the time she left the room I did not know she was ill.
Sometime after my son left the room, and went down stairs. I followed
him very shortly. I met my son in the passage at the foot of the stairs:
he told me that he had been very sick, and had brought up his dinner. I
found his eyes exceedingly swollen. I said I thought it very
extraordinary, and I was taken ill myself in less than three minutes
afterwards. The effect was so violent, I had hardly time to go into the
back yard before my dinner came up. I felt considerable heat across my
stomach and chest, and pain: I never experienced any vomiting before
like it, for violence; it was terrible indeed. It was not more than a
quarter of an hour when my apprentice, Roger Gadsden, was very ill, in a
similar way to myself. While we were sick I was repeatedly in the
parlour and the back yard. My son was up and down stairs at intervals;
Gadsden, I believe, was in the kitchen below. The prisoner gave no
assistance. We were all alarmed: but it was discovered that she did not
appear concerned at our situation. I did not observe the prisoner eat
any of the dumplings. I had a suspicion of arsenic, and made a search
the next morning. I then observed in the pan, in which the dumplings had
been mixed, that there was a white powder, unlike flour, and I retained
it in my possession until I gave it into the hands of Mr. Marshall.
Arsenic had been kept in the drawer in the office, tied up in a paper
very tightly, and labelled "Arsenic, poison," in large characters. I saw
the parcel there on the 7th of March, but not since that time. It was
missed about a fortnight before the 21st of March. The prisoner may have
seen the parcel, as she usually resorted to the drawer for paper to
light her fires. After dinner I remarked that the knives with which the
dumplings had been cut had changed colour. They turned black and they
still remain so. I spoke to the prisoner about the dumplings on the
Wednesday, and I asked her how she came to put anything into them so
hurtful, but she answered that it was not in anything which she had
prepared, but in the milk which Sarah Peer had brought in, and with
which her mistress had ordered her to make the sauce. That milk had been
used in the sauce only. The dumplings had been mixed with the milk which
had been left at breakfast.
Roger Gadsden said, I am an apprentice to Mr. Turner. I remember seeing
the packet of arsenic in the drawer, and I missed it a day or two after
the 7th of March. On Tuesday, the 21st of March, I went into the kitchen
between three and four o'clock, and I observed a plate on the table, on
which were a dumpling and a half. I had dined at two o'clock, but I took
up a knife and fork, and was going to eat the dumpling, when the
prisoner exclaimed, "Gadsden, do not eat that; it is cold and heavy; it
will do you no good." I ate a piece about the size of a walnut, and
there being some sauce in the boat, I sopped it up with a piece of bread
and ate it. I then went into the office, and Mr. Turner came there in
about ten minutes after, and said he was very ill. About ten minutes
after that I was taken ill, but not so ill as to vomit. I was sent off
for Mr. Turner's mother. I was very sick going and coming--I thought I
should die. The prisoner had made yeast dumplings for supper the night
before: I and Peer and the prisoner partook of them: they were quite
different from these dumplings in point of colour and weight, and very
good.
Margaret Turner sworn.--I was sent for. When I arrived I found my
husband, son, and daughter, extremely ill. The prisoner, very soon after
I was there, was ill, and vomiting. I exclaimed to her, "Oh, these
devilish dumplings!" supposing they had done the mischief. She said,
"Not the dumplings, but the milk, madam." I asked her "What milk?" She
said, "The halfpenny-worth of milk that Sally fetched, to make the
sauce." She said my daughter made the sauce. I said, "That cannot be; it
could not be the sauce." She said, "Yes; Gadsden ate a very little bit
of dumpling, not bigger than a nut; but licked up three parts of a boat
of sauce with a bit of bread."
Mrs. Turner, jun., being called, said--"The sauce was made with the milk
brought by Sarah Peer. I mixed it, and left it for her to make."
Robert Gregson Turner sworn.--I partook of the dumplings at dinner; I
ate none of the sauce whatever. Soon after dinner I was taken ill: I
first felt an inclination to be sick; I then felt a strong heat across
my chest. I was extremely sick; I was exactly as my father and wife
were. I had eaten a dumpling and a half, and I suffered more than any
other person. I should presume that the symptoms were such as would be
produced by poison.
Sarah Peer sworn.--I have been servant to Mrs. Turner near eleven
months. I recollect the warning given to the prisoner some time after
she came. After that I heard her say she should not like Mr. or Mrs.
Robert Turner any more. On the 21st of March I went for some milk after
two o'clock, after I had dined with the prisoner on beef-steak pie. I
had no concern whatever in making the dough for the dumplings, or in
making the sauce. I was not in the kitchen when the dough was made: I
never meddled with it, or put anything to it; I never was in the kitchen
after I went up to make the beds, a quarter after eleven, until dinner
time. I had permission to go out that afternoon, directly after I took
up the dumplings. I went out directly. I came home at nine o'clock
exactly. I ate none of the dumplings myself. In eating the beef-steak
pie, I ate some of the crust. I was not at all ill. I had eaten some
dumplings she had made the night before: I never tasted any better. They
were all made out of the same flour. I had no difference with my
mistress at any time.
_Cross-examined by Mr. Alley._--I had occasionally quarrelled with the
prisoner. I went sometimes to visit my friends, but it was generally on
Sundays. I never went on a week-day except on this occasion. I know
nothing of the drawer in which the arsenic was. The paper which I used
for lighting fires was kept in the dining-room. I never went to the
drawer in the office, nor did I ever see or hear of any poison being
kept there.
An officer of Hatton Garden and the brewer's man were then successively
examined. The first proved that on his apprehending the prisoner, she
declared that she thought the poison must have been in the yeast, as she
saw a red settlement in it after she had used it, and the second stated
that the yeast was good, and that he delivered it to the girl Peer.
Mr. John Marshall, a surgeon, was then sworn, and he stated that on his
being called in to Mr. Orlibar Turner's family he found them all
labouring under symptoms of having taken arsenic, and that the prisoner
was also ill, and exhibited similar symptoms. On the following day he
saw a pan, and on his examining its contents he found them to contain
arsenic. He had also examined the yeast which was left and the flour
tub, and they were both devoid of arsenic. The poison being cut would
blacken the knife.
The case for the prosecution being closed, the prisoner made the
following defence:--
"I am truly innocent of the whole charge; I am innocent; indeed I am. I
liked my place, and was very comfortable. Gadsden behaved improperly to
me; my mistress came and saw me undressed; she said she did not like it;
I said 'Ma'am, it is Gadsden that has taken a liberty with me.' The next
morning I said, 'I hope you do not think anything of what passed last
night.' She was in a great passion, and said she would not put up with
it; I was to go away directly. I did not look upon Mrs. Turner as my
mistress, but upon the old lady. In the evening the old lady came to
town; I said, 'I am going away to-night;' Mrs. Turner said, 'Do not
think any more about it; I don't.' She asked Mrs. Robert Turner if she
was willing for me to go. She said 'No, she thought no more about it.'
As to my master saying I did not assist him, I was too ill. I had no
concern with that drawer at all; when I wanted a piece of paper I always
asked for it."
The prisoner called five witnesses, who gave her an excellent character
for integrity, sobriety, cheerfulness, and humanity. One of them was
proceeding to state an accidental conversation which he had with the
prisoner two days after she had ordered the yeast, wherein she declared
herself happy and contented with her situation, and pleased with her
master and mistress; but the recorder stopped him, saying it was not
evidence.
Whilst the trial was proceeding, William Fenning, the father of the
prisoner, went to a public-house, and got a person (for he was too
agitated himself) to write on a slip of paper, that on the 21st of March
he went to Mr. Turner's, his daughter having sent for him in the
morning, and that Sarah Peer told him Eliza had gone with a message for
her mistress, whilst, at the same time, she was in agonies below-stairs
from the effect of having eaten of the dumplings. He then went home, and
thought no more about it.
When this note was written, it was handed to Mr. Alley, who, standing
upon tiptoe, showed it to the recorder, who leaned over and looked at
it, but no further notice was taken of it.
Other efforts were made by the prisoner to produce witnesses, but as
they were not in attendance, the court said that it was too late, and
that the trial could not be suspended for their coming.
The recorder then proceeded to sum up the case, and the jury in a few
minutes brought in a verdict of guilty. The recorder having then passed
sentence of death upon her, the miserable girl was carried from the bar
convulsed with agony, and uttering frightful screams.
Few cases ever excited greater interest than that of Eliza Fenning; and
we are happy in being able to state that her religious principles were
correct, and her professions sincere. Through life she was distinguished
by a superiority of intellect, and a propriety of deportment, which
could hardly be reconciled with the depravity of which she was accused.
In person she was short of stature, but of the most perfect symmetry;
while her countenance evinced a heart at ease, and a mind at once
intellectual and lively. She had been before the fatal transaction
betrothed to a young man, to whom she appears to have been sincerely
attached.
After the unfortunate girl's conviction she was induced to apply to the
Crown for a remission of the sentence of death, and sent a petition to
the prince regent. She next addressed the lord chancellor, to whom she
sent a statement of all the exculpatory circumstances of her case. She
also sent a letter to Lord Sidmouth, and another to her late master,
requesting him to sign a petition in her favour, with which however he
refused to comply.
Several gentlemen interested themselves in the fate of the poor girl;
and Mr. Montagu, of Lincoln's Inn, waited on the recorder, offering to
produce evidence of a member of Mr. Turner's family, who was insane,
having declared that he would poison the family; but the recorder
assured him that the production of such evidence would be wholly
useless.
The night before her execution a meeting of gentlemen took place in Mr.
Newman's apartments in Newgate, at which Mr. Gibson, of the house of
Corbyn and Co., chemists, No. 300, Holborn, stated that Robert Gregson
Turner, in the month of September or October, called at their house in a
wild and deranged state, requesting to be put under restraint, otherwise
he declared he should destroy himself and wife. Mr. Gibson also stated
that it was well known in the family that Robert Turner was occasionally
subject to such violent and strange conduct.
With this information Mr. Gibson, accompanied by a clerk from the
secretary of state's office, waited on the recorder, requesting that the
unfortunate girl might be respited to admit of investigation; but all
was of no avail, and in twelve hours after, Eliza Fenning was executed!
From the moment the poor girl was first charged with the poisoning,
however or by whomsoever questioned, she never faltered in her denial of
the crime, and rather courted than shunned an investigation of her case.
So many circumstances, which had developed themselves subsequently to
the trial, had been communicated to the secretary of state by the
gentlemen who interested themselves in her favour (among whom were some
of great respectability), that a reprieve was confidently expected to
the last: and the order for her execution, four months after her
conviction, was received with very great surprise.
On Tuesday morning, the 25th July, she took her last farewell of her
father, who, by the firmness of his manner, exemplified the courage he
wished his child to sustain upon the scaffold: but with her mother the
parting scene was heart-rending.
On the fatal morning, the 26th July, 1815, she slept till four o'clock,
when she arose, and, after carefully washing herself, and spending some
time in prayer, she dressed herself neatly in a white muslin gown and
cap. About eight o'clock she walked steadily to the spot where criminals
are bound; and, whilst the executioner tied her hands--even whilst he
wound the halter round her waist--she stood erect and unmoved, with
astonishing fortitude. At this moment a gentleman who had greatly
interested himself in her behalf adjured her, in the name of that God in
whose presence she was about to appear, if she knew anything of the
crime for which she was about to suffer, to make it known; when she
replied distinctly and clearly, "Before God then, I die innocent!" The
question was again put by the reverend Mr. Vazie, as well as by the
ordinary, and finally, by Oldfield, a prisoner who suffered with her,
and to each she repeated "I am innocent." These were her last words; and
she died without a struggle, at the age of twenty-one.
Her miserable parents, on application for her body, were not prepared to
pay the executioner's fees of fourteen shillings and sixpence: but
having borrowed the money with some difficulty, the remains of their
daughter were handed over to them.
We have endeavoured to give the circumstances of this case as clearly
and with as little prejudice as possible, but we should not do our duty,
if we were not to state that the public mind was much inflamed at the
execution of the unhappy prisoner. Thousands of persons, after examining
the evidence adduced at the trial, did not hesitate to express their
opinions very strongly upon the subject of the case; and many of the
lower orders, apparently convinced of the innocence of the sufferer,
assembled in front of Mr. Turner's house, in Chancery-lane, hooting and
hissing, and otherwise expressing their indignation, at what they
conceived to be their unjust prosecution of their servant. The police
were active in their exertions to suppress the tumult; and an affidavit
made by Davis, a turnkey in Newgate, was industriously circulated, in
which the deponent swore that old Fenning had conjured his daughter,
when she went upon the scaffold, to declare her innocence: a counter
affidavit of the father of the wretched girl, however, was produced and
published, and the assertion of the jailer was at length admitted to
have been founded upon a mistaken interpretation of what had really
passed. The mob continued to assemble for many days, and it was not
until the police had taken very vigorous measures against them, that
they were finally dispersed. The public still sympathised with the
unhappy parents of Eliza Fenning, and a subscription was entered into
for their benefit.
JOSEPH BLACKBURN.
EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.
The particulars of the melancholy case of this unfortunate gentleman,
will be best described by the report of his trial which has reached us,
which took place at York on the 18th March 1815, before Sir Simon Le
Blanc. He was then placed at the bar and arraigned on two indictments,
charging him with forging and counterfeiting the impression of a certain
stamp or die, used under the direction of the Commissioners of Stamps,
to denote the payment of certain duties imposed on various deeds and
other securities, on vellum, parchment, or paper, and also with uttering
the same, knowing it to be forged, with an intent to defraud the revenue
of the duties imposed on such stamped vellum, parchment, or paper. To
these indictments he pleaded--Not guilty. Mr. Blackburn was then
arraigned on two other indictments, charging him with feloniously
removing stamps from executed deeds, and affixing them upon others, with
an intent to defraud the revenue; to these indictments he also
pleaded--Not guilty. He was then charged in another indictment with the
same offence, jointly with Mr. Thomas Wainewright, who was charged with
feloniously aiding and assisting in this illegal removal of stamps. To
this indictment both the prisoners severally pleaded--Not guilty.
As soon as the jury were sworn, Mr. Wainewright, at the suggestion of
the counsel for the prosecution, retired from the bar, and the court
proceeded to the trial of Mr. Blackburn, on one of the capital
indictments for forgery. The clerk of the arraigns read the indictment.
It charged the prisoner with feloniously forging, and counterfeiting the
resemblance of a certain stamp or die, used by the Commissioners of
Stamps, to denote the payment of duties imposed on vellum, parchment,
and paper, viz. for the payment of two pounds, imposed by the 48th of
George III. on mortgage deeds, with intent to defraud his Majesty, his
heirs, or successors. Another count in the indictment charged him with
uttering the said forged stamps, knowing the same to be false, forged,
and counterfeited, with the like intent to defraud his Majesty, his
heirs, or successors.
The counsel for the crown were, Mr. Park, Mr. Topping, Mr. Wailes, and
Mr. Richardson.
The counsel for the prisoner--Mr. Scarlett, Mr. Littledale, and Mr.
Williams.
Mr. Park opened the case to the jury, and said,--I am counsel against
the unfortunate gentleman now at the bar. This is a prosecution by the
Commissioners of Stamps, who in the discharge of their professional duty
have thought it incumbent upon them to institute this inquiry, and which
indeed they could not have omitted to do without a gross dereliction of
the duty they owed to the public. They have no interest in this
prosecution, and whatever be the result of this day's inquiry, they will
be satisfied with your decision. The crime imputed to the prisoner by
this indictment, is not merely calculated to defraud the public revenue,
but tends to affect the security of the property of individuals, and
that in the most serious manner, for if deeds, or other written
instruments for the transfer of property, have affixed to them forged or
improper stamps, they have no validity, and convey no rights to the
parties in whose favour they are executed. This consideration must at
once impress you with a conviction of the great importance of the
present case; as the conveyance of property by instruments the most
solemn known to the law, is thereby defeated, the contract becomes
invalid, and the deed by which it was intended to be effected, of no
possible use. Nor is it too much to say, that the rights of future
generations may be affected by the consequences of the crime imputed to
the prisoner.
It is, gentlemen, with the most unfeigned concern, that I have risen to
address you on the present occasion. This is the first time, during a
practice of thirty years at the bar, that it has fallen to my lot to be
concerned in a prosecution for felony against any person with whom I
have had any personal acquaintance. Mr. Blackburn (the prisoner) I have
long known; he has conducted actions in which I have been engaged for
him, and others in which I have been retained by the adverse party: and
though when I first heard the name I did not know how to affix it to the
person, yet now, when (for the first time since this prosecution has
been depending) I see him, I find that I know the gentleman perfectly
well. We at the bar are, however, bound to aid the administration of the
public justice of the country, and must do justice to the country, and
to the crown, on whose behalf we are engaged, and cannot shrink from the
performance of our professional duty, however painful to our feelings
the exercise of it may occasionally be. But the Government, the
Commissioners of Stamps, and those who on their account conduct this
prosecution, are very far from having any wish to oppress these
individuals; their only desire is, that justice should be done between
them and the country, and this justice I have no doubt will be done by
you.
If the prisoner is guilty of the offence imputed to him by this
indictment, his crime is greater than that of any other individual,
because there is no one who is so much obliged by his profession to
understand the principles of morality. The very first rudiments of his
profession must have rendered familiar to him those principles of
justice on which the law is founded; and in his long attendance at these
courts, he must (in addition to sound lessons of law) have heard the
principles of moral obligation enforced by the learned judges who have
from time to time presided here, and which ought to have had the effect
of rooting them in his mind.
Having made these few preliminary observations, I shall proceed to state
the nature of the charge against the prisoner, and the evidence by which
that charge is meant to be substantiated. The charge against the
prisoner is that of having forged, or caused to be forged, or
counterfeited, the impression of a certain stamp or die, used by the
commissioners (appointed by his Majesty, to manage the duties on stamped
vellum, parchment, or paper) to denote the payment of a certain duty,
imposed by the 48th of the King, on mortgage deeds, which are laid _ad
valorem_, that is, in a ratio proportioned to the money secured by such
deeds. The amount of the money secured by the deed which is the subject
of this inquiry, is 180_l._ and the stamp required for this sum, must be
of the value of 2_l._; for in the schedule affixed to the act, it
states, that from 150_l._ to a sum not exceeding 200_l._ the duty shall
be 2_l._ The subject-matter of this prosecution is, that in order to
evade the duty imposed by this act, the prisoner affixed a forged and
counterfeit stamp to an instrument, purporting to be a mortgage deed;
and also that he uttered or published the same, well knowing it to be
false, forged, or counterfeited. The penal act on which this prosecution
is founded, is an act of the 52nd year of the king, intituled, "An act
for amending and reducing into one act, the provisions contained in any
laws now in force, imposing the penalty of death, for any act done in
_breach of_ or in resistance to any part of the laws, for collecting His
Majesty's revenue in Great Britain." In this statute, cap. 143, section
7, it is enacted, "that if any person shall, after the passing of this
act, forge or counterfeit, or cause to be forged or counterfeited, any
mark, stamp, die, or plate, which in pursuance of any act or acts of
parliament, shall have been provided, made or used, by or under the
direction of the commissioners, appointed to manage the duties on
stamped vellum, parchments, or paper, or by or under the direction of
any other person or persons, legally authorised in that behalf, for
expressing or denoting any duty or duties, or any part thereof, which
shall be under the care and management of the said commissioners, or if
any person shall utter, or sell, or expose to sale, any vellum,
parchment, or paper, &c. having thereupon the impression of any such
forged or counterfeited mark, every person so offending, and being
thereof convicted, shall be adjudged guilty of felony, and shall suffer
as a felon, without benefit of clergy." I will now lay before you the
evidence by which we propose to establish this charge against the
prisoner.
A person of the name of Taylor, being desirous of borrowing upon the
security of an estate the sum of 180_l._, of a Friendly Benefit Society,
called the Clothiers' Society, sent the title deeds of his estate to the
office of the prisoner, who as you will have already collected is an
attorney; to enable him to make out the necessary security, and who
accordingly prepared a mortgage deed. This deed bears date the 13th of
September 1812; but whether it was executed at that time we do not know,
but it was executed some time before February in the ensuing year,
because we find that on the 12th February it was registered at the
proper office at Wakefield. At what period the stamp upon this deed,
which we allege to be a forged one, was affixed to this deed we have no
means of proving, but it must have been previous to its passing into the
hands of Thompson the steward, who deposited it in the box of the
society, where it remained until it was taken out for the purpose of
this inquiry. That this is the deed delivered by the prisoner to
Thompson, I shall prove beyond all doubt. Gentlemen, I shall prove to
your entire satisfaction, that the stamp affixed to this deed is a
forged one, and we shall also offer the strongest evidence to convince
you it was forged by the prisoner, and uttered by him, knowing it to be
forged. But before I enter directly upon this proof, it may be proper to
state to you something of the manner in which the business of the
Stamp-office is managed, particularly with respect to the state and
manner in which stamps are issued from it, but which statement I shall
prove by evidence. It will be clearly proved to you, that stamps are not
issued from the office in detached labels, to be afterwards affixed to
the different instruments, but are stamped upon the paper or parchment
on which the instrument or deed is to be prepared, and the impression is
made with an engine of such power, that the impression made by it is
visible on the back of the parchment. This is a circumstance of some
importance to be attended to in this inquiry. I would also observe to
you that on all the stamped parchments, issued by the Stamp-office in
London, the words "This Indenture," are printed from an engraved plate
in large characters. These circumstances will be fully proved by the
evidence of the gentlemen from the Stamp-office, whom I shall call
before you. The prisoner did not choose to have his skins from the
Stamp-office, but provided them himself, and employed an engraver in
Leeds, to engrave him a plate, or rather two plates with the words "This
Indenture," in characters resembling those issued by the Stamp-office,
and from these plates he had impressions taken upon skins at various
times. I do not mention this with a view to prejudice the prisoner, or
to insinuate anything to his disadvantage, because he had a right to
prepare his own skins, and send them to be stamped, if he chose it; but
I mention it because it will be necessary to explain part of the
evidence which I shall lay before you, and to show the manner in which
(as we allege) the offence imputed to the prisoner has been committed.
Gentlemen, the whole of the stamp affixed to this deed is not false and
counterfeited; the impression of the king's arms and the "device," are
part of the genuine stamp, but the words, "Two Pounds," which denote the
value of it, are forged, and the way in which we account for it is this;
we say that the stamp affixed to this deed has been taken from some
other deed, and affixed by some cement to this, and that the former
denominating words have been obliterated, and the words "Two Pounds,"
impressed by some die or stamp, resembling that used for denoting the
duty of two pounds by the commissioners of stamps. Gentlemen, I state it
without hesitation, as the law, and I am sure his lordship concurs with
me, that the forgery of any material part of any stamp or die, or other
instrument, is as much a forgery, as if the whole of it was actually
forged: and the words which denote the value of the stamp, must
unquestionably be considered as a most material part of it, and the
person who has done this, or aided the doing of it, or caused it to be
done, is guilty of forgery. That this stamp was not affixed to the deed
at the Stamp-office, and in the usual manner may be made evident to an
inexperienced eye; for it will be proved to you, that those parchments
which have passed through the stamping engine have a visible impression
of the stamp on the back of the skin, which is not the case in this
deed; the stamp of which has been transferred from some other
instrument. These circumstances would alone form a strong presumption
against the prisoner: but the next branch of evidence I shall adduce,
will convert this presumption into certainty; for I shall prove to you,
that he employed an engraver at Leeds to make him thirteen or fourteen
dies, suitable for the purpose of making any impression, resembling the
words which denote the value that are upon the stamps used by the
commissioners. I have the impression from those dies now in my hand, and
it will be proved to you that the numerals and words "II Pounds,"
impressed upon the stamp of the deed, which I will lay before the court,
is an impression from one of those dies. These dies, gentlemen, were
found in the possession of the prisoner, under the circumstances I shall
shortly state to you. When the rumour of these transactions first came
out, the house of the prisoner was searched by the officers of justice;
the prisoner was not at home, but in a room which was locked and broken
open by the officers, was found upon a table a box containing these
dies; and on a further search, a number of old deeds were found, from
which the stamps had been cut off, and also a number of articles
material for throwing light on this subject, which will be produced to
you. Perhaps it may not be necessary to point out to you the manner in
which the prisoner would be benefited by this transfer, and forgery of
stamps. But as it will complete the statement, I will just add that by
taking the stamps from old instruments, and affixing them upon new ones,
he was enabled to put into his pocket the whole amount of the duty, as
he would of course charge the nominal value of the stamps to his
clients, and where the denominating value was not for the sum he wished,
we presume that it might be changed by the use of these dies. I think I
have before stated, that we shall prove the uttering of this deed to Mr.
Thompson. This, gentlemen, is a short detail of the circumstances, from
which we contend, that you must come to the conclusion, that the
prisoner forged, or procured to be forged, this stamp, and that it was
uttered by him, or with his privity, he knowing it to be forged. It is
for you, gentlemen, after hearing the evidence which shall be laid
before you, on the part of the prosecution, and for the prisoner, with
the observations and recapitulation of the learned judge, to decide upon
his guilt or innocence, and with your decision the prosecutors will be
satisfied. If, having heard the whole of the case, any reasonable doubt
remains upon your minds, the prisoner ought to have the benefit of that
doubt, and in that case you ought to acquit him; but if you find the
circumstances which go to prove the guilt of the prisoner so strong and
well connected, as fully to satisfy you upon the subject, it will then
be a duty you owe to your oaths, to God, and your country, to find the
prisoner guilty. The prisoner, to use the impressive language of the
law, has put himself upon God and his country--which country you are;
and I feel convinced that your verdict will be such as will be just to
the prisoner, and to the public justice of the country.
Witnesses were then called, who proved the material circumstances
related by the learned counsel in his opening speech, as to the drawing
the deed, and depositing it with the steward of the society. The
evidence as to the practice of the Stamp-office, and the forgery of the
stamp in question, was as follows:--
Mr. Abraham Smith stated, that he was one of the stampers at the
Stamp-office, in London, and had been in that situation sixteen or
seventeen years. Being requested to state the manner in which the
operation of stamping was performed, he said, that when the stamping for
the day was concluded, the dies were put into strong-boxes, placed in
the strong-room and locked up. They were taken into the room and
delivered out to the stampers by one of the clerks of the office, who
kept the key of the room. No labels were ever on any occasion stamped
without being attached to the parchment, and of course no stamps could
ever be issued detached from the parchment or paper on which the
instrument was intended to be executed. The die for the two-pound stamps
had not been varied; the die was fixed in an engine, which struck the
impression with great force. On looking at the deed, witness stated that
he had no hesitation in saying, that the numeral "II" and the word
"Pounds" were false and counterfeit, and were not a genuine impression
from the die used by the commissioners; but that the device of the
King's arms and the rest of the stamps were genuine. Witness then
proceeded to point out the difference between the impression of the
genuine stamp, and that affixed to the die in question, which partly
consisted in a variation of the semicircle, and in a further difference
of the depth and entire appearance of the denominating part of the stamp
in question. This difference, he said, arose from the circumstance that
in the genuine stamp the whole impression was struck at once, both the
King's arms and the letters, but that in that on the deed now in his
hands, it was evident that the numeral letters "II" had been impressed
by one instrument, and the word "Pounds" by another; and from which the
original words denoting the value had been by some means erased. Witness
then examined the back of the deed, and said, it was clear that the
stamp had not been impressed upon it at the office, because if it had,
the impression would have penetrated the parchment, and made an
indention on the back. Upon the whole, witness stated it as his decided
opinion that the stamp shown him was false and counterfeit. The witness
was cross-examined by Mr. Scarlett, and admitted that the impression of
the King's arms, and all parts of it, with the exception of the words
denoting the value, were genuine; and that the stamp had undoubtedly at
some time or other been issued from the office.
William Kappen, Esq. stated that he was secretary to the Stamp-office,
and had in October last been employed twenty-four or twenty-five years
in that office, though not the whole of the time in the situation he
then occupied. He was perfectly acquainted with the various dies used by
the office, and the manner in which the general business of the office
was conducted. The deed being handed to him he examined it with great
attention, and then stated that the "II" and the word "Pounds" were not
impressed by the stamp used by the commissioners, but that the rest of
the stamp was genuine. Witness then produced a paper which contained an
impression from the II Pound stamp used by the commissioners, which he
stated to have been struck in his presence, and pointed out to the court
and jury the respects in which the impression of the forged stamp
differed from that produced by him. Witness having completed his
description, said he had not the least hesitation in stating that that
part of the stamp shown to him which denoted the value, was false and
counterfeit: he also stated, that the back of the deed bore no
resemblance to the impression of the stamps struck at the office, which
made an impression through the parchment perfectly visible on the other
side of the skin, being impressed with great force by the engine, which
completed the whole of the stamp at once. Witness was cross-examined by
Mr. Littledale. He stated that the commissioners continued the use of
the dies in these cases where they were applicable after any
augmentation of the duties, and this they were empowered to do by act of
parliament. After any augmentation of the duties, the commissioners had
impressions taken of all the dies in use, from which they selected such
as were applicable to the new duties, and impressions of these were
struck in the presence of the commissioners, or the major part of them.
These impressions were put into a book, and signed by the officers
employed in that department, and the dies from which these impressions
were taken, continued to be used until some further alteration took
place in the duties. The office never sold stamps to private
individuals, but they were furnished to the public through the medium of
the stamp distributors. He also stated, that no stamp was ever printed
on any separate label, detached from the papers or parchment on which
the instrument was to be executed. But he added, that if any person
should send an unexecuted parchment or instrument to stamp, to the head
office, it would be stamped upon the payment of the proper duty.
Evidence as to the discovery of the forged dies, in the office of the
prisoner, was next adduced; and on the cross-examination of the
witnesses, an effort was made to show that a person named Jacques, who
had been the informant against the prisoner, might have been implicated
in placing the dies in the position in which they were found, and that
he might have been induced to take that course, in consequence of a
threatened prosecution by the prisoner, in whose service he had been as
clerk, for embezzlement. Two witnesses were called, who were engravers,
and who had prepared the copper plates of "This Indenture," printed on
the deeds, and also the dies for counterfeiting the words "II Pounds."
Mr. Topham, the engraver, who was last called, however, failed in
proving very distinctly, that the impressions on the stamp alleged to be
forged were taken from the dies which he had prepared. The officers of
stamps expressed their belief that they were so taken from the dies.
Upon the production of the detached stamps found at the prisoner's
house, it was stated that in their present state they were useless,
because although the Stamp-office returned the value of stamps which
were spoiled, yet they would not do so unless when attached to the
parchment. Those stamps were also proved to have been detached from the
original deeds with some object, as they were found enclosed in parcels
in papers, with indorsements in the prisoner's hand-writing, denoting
their amount and value.
The evidence for the prosecution having been concluded,
Mr. Scarlett rose and said, "My Lord, I have two objections, which I
will submit to the consideration of your lordship, which will, as I
conceive, be fatal to this prosecution. There are two facts which the
prosecutor is bound to make out before he can substantiate the
allegations in this indictment. The first is, that the die or stamp,
respecting which the forgery is alleged to have been committed, was a
die used by the direction and under the authority of the commissioners
of the stamps. Now, my lord, I contend that there is no evidence of
this fact to go to the jury, because I confidently submit to your
lordship, that parole evidence, which is all they have offered, is not
admissible under the circumstances which have been given in evidence,
because it is an axiom in law, that the best evidence must always be
given which the case will admit of; your lordship has heard from Mr.
Kappen that the stamps authorised to be used by the commissioners, were
in their presence impressed in a book. This book has not been produced,
and as no evidence has been given to show that it was lost or destroyed,
parole evidence was not admissible to show the nature of its contents.
That it is an essential part of the case, that the die should have been
directed or authorised to be used by the commissioners of the stamps, is
evident from a reference to the 52 of the King, section 7, which states,
that if any person after the passing of that act, shall forge or
counterfeit, or cause to be forged or counterfeited, any mark, stamp,
die, or plate, which in pursuance of any act of parliament shall have
been provided, made, or used, by or under the direction of the
commissioners appointed to manage the duties on stamped paper, and so
on. Now, my lord, what I contend for is this, that the entry in that
book is the only proof that this die of £2 was used by or under the
direction and authority of the commissioners, and that this entry can
only be proved by the production of the book itself. Supposing, my lord,
that the book had been produced, and that upon inspection it should turn
out that there was no stamp of 2_l._ inserted there, in this case your
lordship must allow that the prosecution would fail; but as the best
evidence that it does contain this entry has not been given, it must be
presumed in favour of the prisoner, that the book does not contain this
entry. Had there been a written order in the usual acceptation of the
term by the commissioners for the use of such and such stamps, your
lordship would not have admitted parole evidence to be given of the
contents of this order, unless satisfactory proof was given that it was
destroyed, or could not be produced; and I humbly submit to your
lordship, that the entry of the impressions of the dies in this book
renders it completely of the nature of a written document, and places it
within the same rules of law. I therefore humbly submit to your
lordship, that there is no legal evidence to go before the jury, on this
material allegation in the indictment, and that the prisoner is entitled
to be acquitted."
Mr. Justice Le Blanc.--I think there is evidence to go to the jury. The
commissioners gave their order by parole, they did not give a written
order.
Mr. Scarlett.--The directions to the officers to impress the stamps in
the book was certainly by parole, but I humbly submit to your lordship,
that when the impressions were made in a book, that book must be
considered in the light of a written order.
Mr. Justice Le Blanc.--I cannot take it to be an appointment in writing;
and I consider the evidence which has been given as to the use of stamps
as perfectly admissible, and as proof to go to the jury.
His lordship having overruled this objection,
Mr. Scarlett said, I will now trouble your lordship with respect to my
second objection, which I consider as the most material and as decisive
of the fate of the prosecution. The prisoner is substantially charged
with forging a die or stamp used by the commissioners, with an intent to
defraud the revenue. Now in the first place it is clearly proved by the
gentlemen from the Stamp-office, that the whole of the stamp, except the
words "two pounds," is genuine, and also that the stamp has been issued
from the office. I need not insist before your lordship that to
constitute a forgery there must be an alteration or imitation of some
material part of a die, stamp, or instrument. In the present case it is
alleged, that the "II Pounds" in the stamp which has been produced in
court is not an impression from the genuine stamp. But in order to
substantiate this charge, the prosecutors ought to have gone much
further, and have proved that there had been an alteration in the value
of the stamp. When the stamp was issued from the office it must have
borne some value, and for aught that appears in evidence, it might have
been of the value of 2_l._, and therefore I have a right to presume that
it was of that value, and that whatever alteration may have taken place
in it, has only been a re-impression of the original words denoting the
value of it. Now, my lord, I contend, that if this was the only
alteration made in this stamp, the charge against the prisoner cannot be
sustained. I will put a case, Suppose a man erase from a Bank-of-England
note, a five-pound note for instance; he obliterates, suppose, by some
chemical process, _Five Pounds_, and then impresses upon it the same
value. This clearly would not be a forgery, nor could he be convicted,
unless it could be proved that this note had previously been of a lower
value, and this would be a case exactly resembling the present
prosecution. There are two circumstances necessary to constitute a
forgery, the counterfeiting or altering the material part of an
instrument, that which affects its value, and the doing it with an
intent to defraud. I contend therefore, with great confidence, that
neither of these has been proved in the present case, because no
alteration affecting the value of the stamp has been even attempted to
be proved; and that unless it can be proved that the alteration was of
such a nature as to alter its value, and make it pass for a different
sum to what it originally bore, the case on the part of the prosecution
cannot be sustained, and the prisoner must be discharged from this
prosecution. Mr. Scarlett dwelt on this point a considerable time,
placing it in various points of view, and illustrating it by reference
to similar cases.
Mr. Littledale and Mr. Williams followed on the same side.
Mr. Park on the other side, urged that the objections could not prevail;
and that the stamp having been altered in its essential part--that which
gave it operation, the forgery was clearly made out.
Sir Simon Le Blanc gave his decision in the following terms: "I have
been anxious to hear and to attend to all that has been offered in
support of the objections taken by the counsel for the prisoner. The
charge against the prisoner is substantially this, that by a false die
or mark he impressed or caused to be impressed the resemblance of a die
used by the commissioners on a parchment-deed, with an intent to defraud
the revenue. To this, two objections have been urged; the first
objection is, that evidence has not been given, that the die of which
this impression is alleged to be the resemblance, was a die used by the
direction and authority of the commissioners of the stamps; and the
second objection denies that any forgery has been committed. With
respect to the first objection the court has already expressed its
opinion, that there is evidence to go to the jury of the use of the die
by the commissioners, and this is all that is necessary to be given in
evidence. The Act of the 48 George III., which imposes this duty, and
the 52 George III., which unites in one act all the laws inflicting the
punishment of death for offences against the revenue laws, both agree
in this. The 48 of George III. in reference to this point enacts, "That
if any person shall forge or counterfeit, or cause to be forged or
counterfeited, any stamp or die, which shall be provided, made, or used,
in pursuance of this Act, or of any former Act," shall be adjudged
guilty of felony, &c. The 52 George III. after stating "that if any
person shall after the passing of this Act, forge, &c. any mark, stamp
or die, used by or under the direction of the commissioners," &c. goes
on to add, "or by or under the direction of any person or persons
legally authorised on that behalf." The court therefore holds, that the
use by the commissioners is all that is requisite, and that of this use
there is evidence to submit to the consideration of the jury. The court
therefore does not consider this objection as valid. The other objection
proceeds on the ground, that no forgery has been committed, inasmuch as
it has not been proved, that any alteration has been made in the value
of the stamp. It is contended, that as a considerable part of the stamp
has been proved to be genuine, and must have been issued from the
Stamp-office, with words denoting its value, this value, for aught that
appears to the contrary, may have been the same that is now impressed
upon it, and that in fact there has only been a re-impression of the
same words which were upon the stamp when it was first issued. And upon
this assumption it is contended, that as no material part of the
instrument has been altered, there has been no legal forgery. But it is
unnecessary to give any opinion on the validity of this inference,
because the foundation has not been laid, on which alone there could be
a reason for examining it, there having been no evidence given to prove
that this stamp was originally of the value of two pounds, and it
undoubtedly lay upon the prisoner to prove this. For the case stands
thus: There is a forged impression of a die upon an instrument, proved
to have been in the possession of the prisoner, under circumstances
which certainly call for explanation, and also in whose possession a
number of dies are found, made too by his own order, and two of which
appear to have been used to make an impression, an impression proved to
be false and counterfeit upon this instrument. If these facts are not
accounted for by evidence, or explained somehow or other, the
presumption in law is, that this false impression was forged for the
purpose of increasing or altering its value, and for the purpose of
defrauding the revenue. This presumption thus raised it is for the
prisoner to repel by evidence, but there is certainly _prima facie_
evidence to go to a jury. That the alteration of a material part of an
instrument is a forgery has been solemnly determined, by all the Judges,
in a modern case, so that it cannot now be called in question. I cannot
therefore, on these grounds, stop the cause from going on." The learned
Judge concluded by calling on the prisoner for his defence.
Mr. Blackburn, who laboured under great and evident emotion, addressed
the Court and Jury in the following terms:--
"In the painful and anxious situation in which I am unhappily placed, I
am ill-fitted for the task of addressing you on this occasion. Agitated
as I am between hope and fear, I can only solemnly assure you that I
never forged a stamp in my life; but the public mind has been prejudiced
against me by unfounded reports and advertisements, containing vile
insinuations against me. But, gentlemen, I entreat and charge you upon
your oaths, that you banish all that you have heard out of this court
from your minds, and all that I have to wish from you is, that you be
influenced only by the evidence, and that you will do unto me as you
would wish to be done unto, were you placed in my unfortunate situation.
I have practised as an attorney among my townsmen and neighbours with
credit and respectability for twenty-seven years; you will hear from
them upon their oaths, the character I have maintained during that
period. In making my defence, I have many great and, indeed, insuperable
difficulties to contend with: I am called to furnish an answer, and that
by evidence, against a charge which I never heard of until I entered
this court, for until I heard the indictment read I had no knowledge of
that which they have imputed to me by this indictment, and of course it
was absolutely impossible for me to be prepared with evidence to rebut
the charge. With respect to the deed in question, I know nothing of it,
it has been long out of my possession, and it is clear by the evidence
of the witnesses for the prosecution, that it has been very much
exposed. I would only observe that if it had not had a regular stamp
affixed to it, the engrossing clerk must have seen it, and it must
likewise have been observed at the office when the deed was registered.
When my house was searched, my account-books were taken away, which has
deprived me of all means of tracing the deed in question, or of proving
where the stamp was bought; I had therefore no clue to direct my search.
With respect to the spoiled stamps, I would observe, that they have lain
by me a long time, and that the period of claiming the allowance for
them has long elapsed. It often happens, that after a deed is engrossed,
the execution may be delayed a very considerable time beyond the period
allowed for claiming the allowance, and if ultimately it should not be
executed the stamp would be entirely lost; this will account for the
spoiled stamps which in a long series of time have been accumulated. I
declare to you, gentlemen, that the deed in question had upon it a
regular stamp when it was executed in my office, and I trust you will
not presume anything against me; that you will attend only to the
evidence, and that you will decide upon my fate with the same candour as
you would wish in similar circumstances to have shown to you. My life is
in your hands. I shall bow with resignation to your decision, and I
trust that your decision will be right."
As many as twenty-four gentlemen of the highest respectability were
called to speak to the prisoner's character, and they all joined in
declaring that they believed him incapable of committing such an offence
as that which was imputed to him.
The learned Judge then proceeded to sum up the case, and the Jury having
retired from the Court, for about a quarter of an hour, returned with a
verdict of Guilty.
Mr. Blackburn and Mr. Wainewright were subsequently put to the bar
together and arraigned upon an indictment, in which they were charged
jointly with removing a stamp from one deed and affixing it to another,
but the evidence being inconclusive, they were declared to be Not
guilty.
The court during the whole day was crowded to excess, and the greatest
interest appeared to be excited amongst the inhabitants of Leeds, where
the prisoners had lived, many of whom were present. Mr. Blackburn was
dressed in a suit of mourning, with his hair powdered. He conducted
himself with great propriety during the trial, but upon the verdict of
Guilty being returned he appeared to be completely unmanned. He paid no
attention whatever to the proceedings in the second trial, nor was he
observed to take any notice of his fellow-prisoner, Mr. Wainewright,
upon his being placed by his side.
Upon the Wednesday after the trial, sentence of death was passed upon
the unhappy man, and on Friday the 24th March Mr. Justice Le Blanc
quitted York, leaving him for execution on Saturday the 8th April. The
interval was brief, and his friends determined to lose no time in
applying to the Prince Regent for a mitigation of his sentence. A
petition was accordingly prepared, praying for the exercise of the royal
clemency towards him, and in the course of two or three days, this
application for mercy was signed by upwards of three thousand persons,
chiefly the fellow-townsmen of the unfortunate prisoner. On Sunday, the
26th March, Mr. Elliot Carrett, of Dewsbury, one of the attorneys
employed in conducting the defence of the prisoner, went to London, for
the purpose of presenting the petition to the Prince Regent, and of
taking such other steps as should appear likely to contribute to the
attainment of this object of the petition. Mrs. Blackburn, the wife of
this unfortunate gentleman, also repaired to London, with the view if
possible of throwing herself at the feet of his Royal Highness to
supplicate for the life of her unhappy husband. Every means which zeal
and friendship could suggest was used to give effect to this petition:
applications were made to persons of influence and consideration in the
state, to secure their co-operation, but, unhappily, without success;
and every hope of procuring either a mitigation or suspension of the
dreadful sentence of the law was extinguished by the following letter
from Viscount Sidmouth, his Majesty's principal Secretary of State for
the Home Department.
Whitehall, 1st April, 1816.
"SIR,--I have laid before his Royal Highness the petition which I
received on behalf of Joseph Blackburn, a prisoner under sentence of
death in the Castle of York, for forgery; and I am under the painful
necessity of acquainting you, that it did not appear to me consistent
with my public duty, to advise his Royal Highness to remit or suspend
the execution of the sentence passed upon this unfortunate person.
"I have the honour to be,
"Sir, your most obedient servant,
(Signed) "SIDMOUTH."
Before the result of this application to the Prince Regent was known to
either the prisoner or to his friends at Leeds, it was deemed advisable
to submit to Mr. Justice Le Blanc, who was then at Lancaster, certain
affidavits.
The object of these affidavits was to show that the deed was executed on
the day it purported to bear date, which was on the 30th September 1812,
and that as the dies spoken to by Mr. Topham were not delivered at the
office of Mr. Blackburn until the following month, it was quite
impossible that any forgery of the stamp on the deed in question, could
have been made by him at the time it was executed.
This application like that to the Crown was unsuccessful, and the
unhappy prisoner having received an intimation that no hope remained
that his life would be spared, he proceeded anxiously and ardently to
apply himself to his religious offices. He was attended up to the time
of his execution by the Rev. John Hamilton, the minister of a
dissenting congregation at Leeds, to whose religious exhortations he
paid the utmost attention. He continued for some days to labour under a
despondency approaching to despair, arising as he himself stated, not
from the dread of temporal death, but from a deep consciousness of the
aggravated guilt of his past life, his total neglect of religious
observances, and his gross indulgence in forbidden sensual pleasures. He
stated "that the irregularities of his past life had been so great as to
have deserved that death which had been awarded against him for an
offence of a different nature." He added, "that these crimes had been
committed against light and knowledge, and that he had only repented of
them, and thought upon religion, when every pleasure had been cut off,
and every earthly hope had become extinct." We rejoice however in being
able to add, that in a few days some faint rays of hope penetrated the
gloom which oppressed his mind; and as the merciful provisions of the
gospel were unfolded to him, and its encouraging promises pressed upon
his consideration, these hopes became brighter, and cast, if not a
brilliant, yet a cheering ray of light on the gloomy path he had yet to
tread.
On Thursday, the 6th of April, he attended the chapel, and heard with
profound attention, a sermon preached by the Rev. Mr. Richardson, who
had some religious conversation with him after the other prisoners had
retired. On Friday afternoon the prisoner had a last interview with his
brother; his unhappy wife had come to York on the same painful errand,
but on Mr. Hamilton representing to her that an interview might disturb
the tranquillity of her husband's last hours, she abstained from
pressing the request which she had made. She had seen him only once
since his conviction, and the meeting was of the most distressing
nature.
On the night before the execution, Mr. Hamilton continued in prayer with
the wretched prisoner up to a late hour, and he repeatedly expressed
himself perfectly resigned and ready at any moment to meet his fate.
On Saturday, at about half-past eleven o'clock, Mr. Blackburn was called
from his cell, and, the necessary arrangements having been made, he was
conducted to the scaffold supported by Mr. Hamilton. He walked with a
firm, unhesitating step, and perfectly erect. It was a quarter before
twelve o'clock when the procession arrived upon the platform. The
prisoner immediately kneeled down upon a stool provided for the
occasion, with his face averted from the numerous spectators, who were
assembled to witness this sad and melancholy spectacle.
The reverend gentleman who had with so much zeal and unwearied assiduity
attended him in prison, to speak to him the words of peace, did not
shrink from the painful task of accompanying him through this last
painful stage of his earthly pilgrimage; placing himself near the
prisoner, he in a low tone of voice asked him some questions relative to
the state of his mind with respect to his approaching change, and
particularly with respect to his entire dependence on the mercy of God
through the merits and mediation of the Messiah.--To these inquiries he
replied, "I have no other, I wish no other trust." Mr. Hamilton now
inquired if it was his wish that he should pray with him, and he eagerly
replied, "If your feelings on this occasion are not too much agitated, I
shall be greatly obliged." Kneeling down close to the prisoner, who kept
his eyes closed during the whole of this sad solemnity, he then offered
up a prayer at once solemn and tender, and adapted equally to the
former character and present situation of the humble penitent before
him. Mr. Blackburn appeared deeply to feel and fervently to join in this
last act of devotion, and when the minister came to that comprehensive
model of devotion, the Lord's Prayer, the prisoner accompanied him in an
audible voice.
When Mr. Hamilton rose up from prayer, he took Mr. Blackburn by the
hand, and having commended him to the mercy and protection of the
Almighty, took a sad adieu of him, conjuring him that when he suffered
death, and was entering eternity, he should aim at no higher strain than
this, "God be merciful to me a sinner." The poor sufferer grasped his
hand, and appeared reluctant to part; and in a voice rendered tremulous
by emotion, said, "May God Almighty bless and protect you." It now only
remained for the executioner to perform his part in the heart-rending
ceremony. Mr. Blackburn was assisted to rise, but it was evident that
the powerful emotion of his mind had impaired his strength, and the
under jailor supported him in his arms until the fatal cord was placed
round his neck, and properly adjusted. At this awful moment he
ejaculated, "O Lord God Almighty, have mercy upon me, and preserve my
soul alive." These were the last words he was heard to utter, as the
drop instantly fell.
It is painful to add that the noose of the cord had, by some means or
other, slipped from its proper situation, and he appeared much
convulsed. After he had been suspended about two minutes, the
executioner endeavoured to replace the cord in its original situation;
and though he succeeded in this attempt, it seemed to harrow up the
feelings of every person present, and produced a stronger sensation of
distress than any part of this mournful ceremony. In about six or seven
minutes from the falling of the drop, the unfortunate man appeared
insensible of further suffering. The body, after remaining suspended the
usual time, was put into a coffin, and delivered to his friends. His
remains were interred at an early hour on Monday, at Rothwell, a village
near Leeds.
JEREMIAH GRANT
EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.
The exploits of this celebrated Irish freebooter gained for him a
notoriety almost equal to that of his successor Captain Rody. Grant was
the son of a poor peasant in the Queen's County, and early evinced a
predilection for a life of idleness. His progress in literature amounted
to what his countryman shot at, "nothing at all;" but his fertile genius
obviated his misfortune in being supremely ignorant of reading and
writing, and his daring spirit triumphed over all minor obstacles.
Having reached the age of nineteen his "public life" began, for at that
time he commenced his depredations upon his fellow-countrymen in the
capacity of a highwayman, and his daring, and the fame of his exploits,
in the course of the ensuing two years gained him so much celebrity
among others of the same character, that at twenty-one he was chosen
"captain" of a select band of "gentlemen" who "followed the road."
His depredations for several years were confined to his native county,
and there his improvident liberality secured him the esteem and
blessings of the lower orders, while the terror of his name and the
dread of his
[Illustration: Discovery of Captain Grant and his band.
_P. 576_]
vengeance kept those of a higher rank in complete subjection to his
authority.
Like Rob Roy, he levied an annual tax on the farmers, which they
cheerfully paid, as it secured them from the nocturnal visits of his
followers; and the Captain was so rigid a disciplinarian, that any
dereliction of duty in this respect was punished with a heavy hand. His
exploits soon became too notorious, however, to pass unnoticed by the
authorities, and large rewards were offered for his apprehension; but,
although he was as well known as the "Hill of Howth," he was to be seen
at every fair and pattern in the country, and had a more numerous
acquaintance than the village doctor. At every farmer's table he was
welcome, and the cottages that gave him shelter were sure of reward; for
he freely shared the contributions he obtained with danger.
With the ladies he was a second Macheath, and more wives than one
claimed him for their husband; and it is reported that he was frequently
complimented on his person and manner, by the mistresses of those houses
which he visited without the formality of an invitation. But it must be
observed that he never forgot his accustomed humanity and politeness;
and, unless when attacked by the police, he never did an individual a
personal injury. His behaviour always evinced a degree of refinement
above his education and birth; and even those who suffered from his
depredations never spoke of him but as an "accomplished villain."
His character at length grew so notorious in the Queen's County, that a
consultation of magistrates was held for the purpose of devising means
for his apprehension, and in consequence of the measures they adopted
several of Grant's followers were brought to justice, and died, as their
Captain expressed it, of the "gallows fever." For some time his
knowledge of the country, and the partiality of the peasantry towards
him, aided him in evading the pursuit which was made after him; but a
traitor was found, and Grant was delivered into the hands of the
Philistines.
The gentry of the country, and ladies of the first rank, crowded to the
jail of Maryborough to see the "bold outlaw;" and it was supposed that
their impertinent curiosity so much affected his sensibility, that he
took his departure one night from prison, through a window, having first
contrived to cut the bars that guarded it.
Dreading another specimen of the rudeness of the Irish aristocracy, he
prudently resolved to leave the Slieve-bloom mountains, and with the
remnant of his banditti, he removed to the wood of Killoughram, in the
county of Wexford, within four miles of the town of Enniscorthy. Here he
continued for some time, and made frequent visits to the neighbouring
towns, where he was known by the name of Cooney.
In the March of 1816 he made a journey to his native county, where he
robbed the house of Thomas Gamble, Esq., of money and plate to a large
amount. Mrs. Cambie was at home, and he behaved with so much politeness,
that she ordered him supper and wine. The captain being impatient of
delay, applied his teeth to extract a cork from a bottle; upon which the
mistress observed "it was a pity to spoil his fine white teeth," and
immediately stood up and procured him a corkscrew. Grant, on his
departure, took the liberty of borrowing Mr. Gamble's horse and gig, in
which he rode to his retreat in the wood of Killoughram.
The Captain's occasional depredations in the county of Wexford excited
great alarm, for a robbery there then was a thing of very rare
occurrence. Notice was at length given of the banditti retreat, and
Archibald Jacob marched the military out of Enniscorthy and surrounded
the wood. Some of the soldiers and yeomanry penetrated the fastness, and
in the thickest part of the shade they discovered the "Robber Chief,"
and five of his followers, on a bed of straw, in a romantic cave. The
freebooters defended themselves with desperate valour, and before they
surrendered, wounded five of the military. After they were secured,
their retreat was found to contain all the necessary implements for
housebreaking, and abundance of arms. The captain was committed to
Wexford jail in the name of Cooney; but the evidence against him being
doubtful, it was apprehended that he would be acquitted, when,
unfortunately for him, it was discovered that he was the celebrated
Captain Grant. The jailor of Maryborough now claimed his body, and he
was forthwith transmitted to his former abode, only just in time, as it
was eventually found out, to prevent his again escaping from the jail in
which he was confined, in obedience to and in conformity with a plan
which had been matured, and which was to be put into operation on the
very night on which he was removed.
His trial came on at Maryborough, August the 16th 1816, when he was
found guilty of the burglary in Mr. Cambie's house. To the question
"What reason he had why judgment and sentence of death should not be
passed on him?" he replied in the most firm, collected, and, indeed,
feeling manner, "My lord, I only beg of the Court some short time to
arrange things before my departure for another place; not in the idle
hope of escape or pardon, but to make restitution to the persons who
have suffered by my bad line of life. I have been visited in my cell by
some blessed people, who have, thank God, given this turn to my mind,
and to which I implore your lordship's attention."
Sentence was then immediately passed upon him; but in obedience to his
request, his execution was deferred until the 29th of August, when he
met his fate with decent fortitude and pious resignation.
THOMAS CARSON.
CONVICTED OF MURDER.
The Irish are capital actors, but generally give to tragic parts a comic
effect. The following case of successful adroitness is only one out of
many such tricks played off in the prisons of the sister kingdom.
Thomas Carson and his brother John were tried at the Meath assizes, in
the spring of 1816, for the wilful murder of a man named Cassidy. The
Carsons belonged to a corps of yeomen; and being Protestants, they were
privileged to carry arms. Of these, however, they made a bad use, and
turned them against one of his Majesty's subjects, named Cassidy, whose
life they took away, through wanton cruelty, in Kilmainham Wood, in the
county of Meath. John was acquitted; but Thomas Carson was found guilty,
and ordered for execution on the following Friday morning, at one
o'clock.
At five o'clock on Friday morning a brother of the prisoner went to see
the unhappy culprit, and informed the jailor that Mr. Wainwright, the
clergyman, would attend in a short time to pray with and administer the
sacrament to his brother. The judge had, from humanity, directed that
his relations should have free access to the prisoner, so that his
brother was permitted to go into the condemned cell to him. Some time
after the jailor entered the cell, and said that the time was very
short, and if the clergyman was expected, they had better send for him.
The brother offered to go for him, and apparently retired. Shortly after
Mr. Wainwright came; and being shown into the cell, continued a long
time in prayer with the prisoner. The time of execution approaching, the
jailor came in, accompanied by the prisoner's uncle. The clergyman told
the prisoner he had no time to lose--that his uncle had come, and would
communicate with him in the administration of the sacrament. The
prisoner entreated to be allowed to pray a little longer, and appeared
absorbed in devotion. At length the jailor becoming quite impatient, he
rose from the straw on which he was kneeling, and welcomed his uncle.
The latter instantly exclaimed, "Good God! how grief has altered him!
this cannot be Tommy!" and looking nearer--"No," said he, "this is
Anthony Carson!" The clergyman was amazed--the jailor ran down stairs,
and discovered that the person whom he had sent for the clergyman was no
other than the convict himself, who had not thought proper to return.
Coming back into his cell, the jailor cried out, "Your brother is gone
off! what shall I do? I am ruined!"--"Gone off!" cried Anthony with
great surprise; "Oh, he has taken away my big coat."
The two brothers served in the same corps, and were so alike in
appearance that Anthony came to the prison in a frize great-coat, which
he gave to the convict, who, thus disguised, passed all the doors of the
prison, and walked deliberately into the street, from whence, in great
apparent affliction, he looked up at the preparation for execution, and
passed on as if to Mr. Wainwright's house.
Diligent search was made for the fugitive, but without effect. The
brother was detained, but the extent of his crime was a misdemeanour.
The case of this lucky prisoner clearly exemplified, in the language of
the prisoner about to receive judgment of death, that he did not believe
he was "safe in the hands" of his jailors.
The story runs thus:--An Irishman had been convicted of a robbery at the
Old Bailey sessions, for which he was brought up, with others at the
conclusion of the session, to receive judgment of death. The ready wit
and the natural disinclination of the Irish to give a straightforward
answer to a question, are universally known and admitted. The prisoner
in question on being called on by Mr. Shelton, the officer of the court,
in the usual way, to declare what he had to say why sentence of death
should not be passed upon him, advanced to the front of the dock with a
vacant stare, and inquired "What was the question?"
Mr. Shelton.--You have been convicted of robbery; what have you to say
why sentence of death shall not be passed upon you, according to law?
Prisoner.--Faith, I have nothing much to say, except that I do not think
I am safe in your hands.
The answer was received with a loud burst of laughter, which even the
melancholy nature of the scene could not prevent the learned recorder
from joining in. The gravity of the court was, however, soon again put
to the test. Sentence had been passed, and the prisoner was about to
retire from the bar, when he was unexpectedly called back by Mr.
Shelton, who demanded to know his age.
Prisoner.--Is it my age you mean?
Mr. Shelton.--What is your age?
Prisoner.--I believe I am pretty well as ould as ever I'll be.
Again the whole court was convulsed with laughter; but the wretched man,
whose laughter-moving qualities were purely involuntary, was doomed even
at "the last scene of all," to raise the mirth of the spectators of his
fate. He was in due form taken from his cell, and the ordinary of the
jail attending him, he was conducted to the press-room to be bound,
preparatory to his going out to the scaffold. His irons were removed,
and his arms confined with cords in the customary manner, but the
willing compliance exhibited by the wretched convict in the proceedings
which had hitherto taken place, to assist the executioner in performing
his office, suddenly ceased. He sat down on a bench, and in spite of the
calls of Jack Ketch, and of the sheriffs to accompany them in procession
to the scaffold, he remained sullenly on the bench, where he had first
taken up his position. "Come," at last urged Jack Ketch, "the time is
arrived;" but his coaxing words and tone were unavailing. "The officers
are waiting for you," said the sheriffs; "can anything be done for you
before you quit this world?" No answer was returned. At length, said
Jack Ketch, grown surly at the long delay and the silence of the
prisoner, "If you won't go, you know I must carry you." "Then you may,"
said the prisoner, "for I'll not walk." "Why not?" inquired the sheriff.
"I'll not be instrumental to my own death," hesitated the prisoner.
"What do you mean?" asked the ordinary. "What do I mane?" answered the
unfortunate man. "I'll not walk to my own destruction;" and in this
determination he remained, and Jack Ketch and his assistants were
eventually absolutely compelled to carry him to the scaffold, where he
was turned off, continuing in his refusal to do anything which might be
construed into "his being a party to his own death."
END OF VOL. I.
PRINTED BY J. S. VIRTUE AND CO., LIMITED, CITY ROAD, LONDON.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Different countries have different modes of inflicting capital
punishments. Beheading was military punishment among the Romans,
known by the name of _decollatio_. Among them the head was laid on a
_cippus_, or block, placed in a pit dug for the purpose; in the army,
without the _vallum_; in the city, without the walls, at a place near
the _porta decumana_. Preparatory to the stroke, the criminal was tied
to a stake, and whipped with rods. In the early ages the blow was
given with an axe; but in after-times with a sword, which was thought
the more reputable manner of dying. The execution was but clumsily
performed in the first times; but afterwards they grew more expert,
and took the head off clean, with one circular stroke.
In England, beheading is the punishment of nobles; being reputed not
to derogate from nobility, as hanging does. In France, during the
revolutionary government, the practice of beheading by means of an
instrument called a _guillotine_ (so denominated from the name of its
inventor) was exceedingly general. It resembles a kind of instrument
long since used for the same purpose in Scotland, and called a
_maiden_.
It is universally known, that, at the execution of King Charles the
First, a man in a vizor performed the office of executioner. This
circumstance has given rise to a variety of conjectures and accounts;
in some of which, one William Walker is said to be the executioner; in
others, it is supposed to be a Richard Brandon, of whom a long account
was published in an Exeter newspaper of 1784. But William Lilly, in
his "History of his Life and Times," has the following remarkable
passage. "Many have curiously inquired who it was that cut off his
(the king's) head: I have no permission to speak of such things; only
this much I say, he that did it, is as valiant and resolute a man
as lives, and one of a competent fortune." When examined before the
parliament of Charles II., he states, "That the next Sunday but one
after Charles the First was beheaded, Robert Spavin, secretary to
Lieutenant-General Cromwell at that time, invited himself to dine with
me, and brought Anthony Pierson and several others along with him to
dinner. That their principal discourse all dinner time was only who
it was that beheaded the king. One said it was the common hangman;
another, Hugh Peters; others also were nominated, but none concluded.
Robert Spavin, so soon as dinner was done, took me by the hand and
carried me to the south window: saith he, 'These are all mistaken;
they have not named the man that did the fact; it was Lieut. Colonel
Joice. I was in the room when he fitted himself for the work; stood
behind him when he did it; when done, went in with him again. There is
no man knows this but my master, (viz. Cromwell,) Commissary Ireton,
and myself.'--'Doth not Mr. Rushworth know it?' saith I.--'No, he doth
not know it,' saith Spavin. The same thing Spavin hath often related
to me when we were alone."
The following description of the Maiden, by Mr. Pennant, may not prove
uninteresting:--"This machine of death is now destroyed; but I saw one
of the same kind in a room under the Parliament-house in Edinburgh,
where it was introduced by the Regent Morton, who took a model of it
as he passed through Halifax, and at length suffered by it himself.
It is in form of a painter's easel, and about ten feet high; at four
feet from the bottom is the cross bar on which the felon lays his
head, which is kept down by another placed above. In the inner edges
of the frame are grooves; in these is placed a sharp axe, with a vast
weight of lead, supported at the very summit with a peg: to that peg
is fastened a cord, which the executioner cutting, the axe falls, and
does the affair effectually, without suffering the unhappy criminal to
undergo a repetition of strokes, as has been the case in the common
method. I must add, that if the sufferer is condemned for stealing
a horse or cow, the string is tied to the beast, which, on being
whipped, pulls out the peg, and becomes the executioner."
[2] This celebrated painter, whilst decorating the dome of St. Paul's
Cathedral, nearly fell a victim to his zeal in that undertaking. One
day, when pursuing his task on the scaffold erected round the dome
for that purpose, he kept walking backwards, surveying the effect of
his work, until he had nearly approached the edge, from which another
step would have precipitated him. At this instant his servant, who
perceived the danger his master was in, with a wonderful presence of
mind seized a pot of colour, and threw it over the painting. This
caused Sir James to rush forward for the preservation of his work, and
he was thus saved from being dashed to pieces, which, but for this
timely intervention, must have been his fate. This eminent man painted
the whole of the cupola of St. Paul's, and also the halls of Greenwich
Hospital and Blenheim. He was born in 1675, and was originally a
house-painter, but afterwards applied himself to historical subjects,
and equalled the best painters of his time. In 1719 he was appointed
Historical Painter to George I., and shortly afterwards was created
a knight. He was employed in several extensive works, for which he
was in general very inadequately paid; and, at times, even found it
difficult to obtain the stipulated price. His demands were contested
at Greenwich Hospital, although he only received 25s. a square yard;
about the same time a foreigner, for doing less work at Montague
House, received 2000_l._ for his work, besides 600_l._ for his diet.
For St. Paul's he received 40_s._ a square yard. He also decorated
More Park, but was obliged to sue Mr. Styles for it; he, however,
not only recovered 3,500_l._ the sum agreed to be paid him, but
500_l._ more for decorations about the house. Notwithstanding these
difficulties, he acquired a considerable fortune, and was several
years in parliament; he was also a Fellow of the Royal Society.
His genius was equally happy in history, allegory, landscape, and
architecture; he even practised the last science as a man of business,
and built several houses. He died in 1734, in the same place where he
was born. He left a son, who followed his father's profession; and a
daughter, who married the celebrated Hogarth.
[3] It may not be uninteresting to the reader to know that Murphy was
executed on the 27th of March, 1728, for stealing plate.
[4] It was formerly customary to oblige persons suspected of murder to
touch the murdered body, for the discovery of their guilt or innocence.
This way of finding murderers was practised in Denmark by King
Christianus II., and permitted over all his kingdom; the occasion
whereof was this:--Certain gentlemen being on an evening together in
a stove, or tavern, fell out among themselves, and from words came to
blows, (the candles being out,) insomuch that one of them was stabbed
with a poniard. Now the murderer was unknown, by reason of the number,
although the person stabbed accused pursuivant of the king's, who was
one of the company.
The king, to find out the homicide, caused them all to come together
in the stove, and, standing round the corpse, he commanded that
they should, one after another, lay their right hand on the slain
gentleman's naked breast, swearing that they had not killed him. The
gentlemen did so, and no sign appeared against them; the pursuivant
only remained, who, condemned before in his own conscience, went,
first of all, and kissed the dead man's feet; but, as soon as he had
laid his hand upon his breast, the blood gushed forth in abundance,
both out of his wound and his nostrils; so that, urged by this evident
accusation, he confessed the murder, and was, by the king's own
sentence, immediately beheaded. Such was the origin of this practice,
which was so common in many of the countries in Europe, for finding
out unknown murderers.
[5] Until the thirtieth year of the reign of King George III.
this punishment was inflicted on women convicted of murdering
their husbands, which crime was denominated petit-treason. It has
frequently, from some accident happening in strangling the malefactor,
produced the horrid effects above related. In the reign of Mary
(the cruel) this death was commonly practised upon the objects of
her vengeance; and many bishops, rather than deny their religious
opinions, were burnt even without previous strangulation. It was
high time this part of the sentence the type of barbarism, should be
dispensed with. The punishment now inflicted for this most unnatural
and abhorred crime is hanging.
[6] It has been a very ancient practice, on the night preceding the
execution of condemned criminals, for the bellman of the parish of
St. Sepulchre to go under Newgate, and, ringing his bell, to repeat
the following verses, as a piece of friendly advice, to the unhappy
wretches under sentence of death:--
All you that in the condemn'd hole do lie,
Prepare you, for to-morrow you shall die.
Watch all, and pray, the hour is drawing near,
That you before the Almighty must appear;
Examine well yourselves, in time repent,
That you may not t' eternal flames be sent,
And when St. Sepulchre's bell to-morrow tolls,
The Lord above have mercy on your souls!
Past twelve o'clock!
The following extract from Stow's Survey of London, page 125 of the
quarto edition, printed in 1618, will prove that the above verses
ought to be repeated by a clergyman, instead of a bellman:--"Robert
Doue, citizen and merchant taylor, of London, gave to the parish
church of St. Sepulchres the somme of 50_l._ That after the several
sessions of London, when the prisoners remain in the gaole, as
condemned men to death, expecting execution on the morrow following;
the clarke (that is, the parson) of the church shoold come in the
night time, and likewise early in the morning, to the window of
the prison where they lye, and there ringing certain toles with a
hand-bell, appointed for the purpose, he doth afterwards (in most
Christian manner) put them in mind of their present condition, and
ensuing execution, desiring them to be prepared therefore as they
ought to be. When they are in the cart and brought before the wall
of the church, there he standeth ready with the same bell, and after
certain toles rehearseth an appointed praier, desiring all the people
there present to pray for them. The beadle also of Merchant Taylors'
Hall hath an honest stipend allowed to see that this is duely done."
[7] In Mr. Ainsworth's Romance of "Rookwood," Turpin is one of the
most striking characters.
[8] The officers' half-pikes.
[9] "On Saturday last a Fleet parson was convicted before Sir Ric.
Brocas of forty-three oaths, (on the information of a plyer for
weddings there,) for which a warrant was granted to levy 4_l._ 6s. on
the goods of the said parson; but, upon application to his Worship, he
was pleased to remit 1s. per oath; upon which the plyer swore he would
swear no more against any man upon the like occasion, finding he could
get nothing by it."--_Grub-Street Journal, 20 July, 1732._
[10] In a letter to George Montagu, Esq. dated July 17, 1753, Horace
Walpole says:--
"Lady Anne Paulett's daughter is eloped with a country clergyman. The
Duchess of Argyle harangues against the Marriage Bill not taking place
immediately, and is persuaded that all the girls will go off before
next Lady-day."
[11] In a letter to George Montagu, Esq. from Horace Walpole, is the
following notice of Keith:--
"Strawberry Hill, 11th June 1753.
"I shall only tell you a _bon mot_ of Keith's, the marriage-broker,
and conclude:
"'G--d d--n the Bishops!' said he, (I beg Miss Montagu's pardon.) 'so
they will hinder my marrying. Well, let 'em, but I'll be revenged:
I'll buy two or three acres of ground, and by G--d I'll under-bury
them all.'"
[12] The "Essay on Woman" was a parody on Pope's sublime work, called
"An Essay on Man."
A learned divine, the Rev. Mr. Kidgell, thus writes on the works of
Wilkes:--
"On the title-page is an obscene print, with a Greek inscription,
signifying 'The Saviour of the world.' We shall, the poison of the
publication being long eradicated, merely quote a commentator on the
subject:
"In this work ('An Essay on Woman') the lewdest thoughts are expressed
in terms of the greatest obscenity; the most horrid impurity is
minutely represented; the sex is vilified and insulted; and the whole
is scurrilous, impudent, and impious, to an incredible degree. In
the variations and notes the inspired writings are perverted into
the gross ideas of a libidinous blasphemer, with an invention new,
wonderful, and horrid. The most solemn and important passages of the
Gospel are tortured into the oblique obscenity of double meanings,
worthy only of him who is at once the enemy of God and man."
[13] The paper entitled "The North Briton" was ordered to be burnt by
the common executioner at the Royal Exchange. Mr. Alderman Harley, one
of the sheriffs of London, attending in his official capacity to see
this carried into execution, was assaulted and wounded by the mob. A
man of the name of John Franklin was seized as one of the offenders,
and committed to Newgate. On the day of the conviction of Wilkes he
was tried for this outrage at the Old Bailey, and found guilty.
When the trial was ended, the worthy alderman addressed the Court in
behalf of the prisoner. He said that, for his part, he had forgiven
the affront offered to his own person; that justice required a
prosecution: it had been, by the conviction of the offender, in
part satisfied, and therefore he hoped the Court would mitigate his
punishment. The Court complied with the prosecutor's humane request,
and sentenced the prisoner to a short imprisonment, to pay a fine
of six shillings and eight pence, and to find security for his good
behaviour for one year.
[14] "It was done in the passage leading to the chapel, by order of
Mr. Akerman, the keeper, to prevent his being gazed at; to whom he
desired I would return his sincere thanks for all his civilities to
him, even to the last."
[15] Dr. H. More's Continuation of Glanvil's Collection of Relations
in proof of Witchcraft.
* * * * *
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
with what had occcured=> with what had occured {pg 36}
acertain the cause=> ascertain the cause {pg 72}
continuing the daugerous=> continuing the dangerous {pg 164}
indicted as accessaries=> indicted as accessories {pg 243}
he make a speech=> he made a speech {pg 295}
She answerered=> She answered {pg 304}
which was propoeed=> which was proposed {pg 391}
four oclock precisely=> four o'clock precisely {pg 402}
On Saturday, Septemer 17=> On Saturday, September 17 {pg 412}
here utterred an expression=> here uttered an expression {pg 435}
who, I I understand=> who, I understand {pg 440}
a full desciption of=> a full description of {pg 205}
and extraordinay manner=> and extraordinary manner {pg 507}
In the hopes of averting=> in the hopes of averting {pg 529}
unsconscious of the fate=> unconscious of the fate {pg 550}
as far as he was permited=> as far as he was permitted {pg 562}
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 1/2 - being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious - characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain - from the earliest period to 1841." ***
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