THE NEWGATE CALENDAR
Edited by Donal Ó Danachair
Volume 2
Published by the Ex-classics Project, 2009
http://www.exclassics.com
Public Domain
Old Newgate Prison
CONTENTS
RICHARD THORNHILL, ESQ Convicted of Manslaughter on 18th of May, 1711, for
killing Sir Cholmondeley Deering in a Duel 10
TOM GERRARD Taught a Dog to pick Pockets, and was executed for
Housebreaking at Tyburn in August, 1711 12
WILL MAW Having committed a Robbery, Maw ordered his Wife to organise a
Mock Funeral, so that People should think he was dead. He was executed at Tyburn
in October 1711 14
DAVY MORGAN Executed at Presteigne in April, 1712, for murdering Edward
Williams 15
ELIZABETH MASON Executed for the murder of her godmother, 18th June, 1712 16
ELIZABETH CHIVERS Executed for the murder of her bastard child, 1st August,
1712 17
COLONEL JOHN HAMILTON Convicted of Manslaughter, 11th of September,
1712, as Second in a Duel between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mahon 19
RICHARD TOWN Executed at Tyburn, December 23, 1712, for Fraudulent
Bankruptcy 21
JACK BLEWIT Was taken into Slavery by the Blacks on Pirates' Island. After
gaining his Liberty and returning to England he became a Highwayman. Executed in
1713 for the Murder of a Farmer's Daughter 23
TOM GRAY Highwayman who set Fire to a Prison. Executed at Tyburn in March,
1713 26
NED BONNET Took to the Highway because he was ruined by a Fire. Executed at
Cambridge Castle in March, 1713 28
RICHARD NOBLE Executed at Kingston, March 28, 1713, For the Murder of Mrs.
Sayer. 29
DICK ADAMS Once pretended to be the Bishop of London's Nephew in order to
escape from a Man he had robbed. Executed at Tyburn, 1713 35
NED WICKS Highway Robber, executed at Warwick Jail in 1713 for Robbery 38
JACK SHRIMPTON Convicted for Murder and Highway Robberies. Executed at St
Michael's Hill in September, 1713 40
WILL LOWTHER Executed on Clerkenwell Green for the Murder of Edward Perry,
December, 1713 42
RODERICK AUDREY With the Assistance of a Sparrow he committed many
Robberies, and was executed at Tyburn in 1714 at the age of Sixteen 44
MACCARTNEY Hanged at Gloucester Jail in April, 1714, for the Murder of one Mr
Beachere 46
WILL OGDEN AND TOM REYNOLDS Housebreakers and Highwaymen. Executed
at Kingston- upon-Thames in April, 1714 48
HENRY PLUNKET Murderer, executed at Tyburn, on the 22nd of September, 1714.
50
WILLIAM JOHNSON AND JANE HOUSDEN Executed in September, 1714, for the
Murder of a Turnkey in the Court at the Old Bailey 51
THOMAS DOUGLASS Murderer, executed at Tyburn on the 27th of October, 1714.
53
WILL CHANCE Robbed his Uncle by Forgery, and then turned Footpad. Was
executed at Tyburn in April, 1715 54
NATHANIEL PARKHURST, ESQ. Executed for the Murder of Lewis Pleura, 20th
May, 1715 56
ZACHARY CLARE Highwayman, who was captured after a Fight, and executed
with James Lawrence in August, 1715, at Warwick Jail 58
THE FIRST REBELLION IN SCOTLAND. Account of the rise and progress of the
rebellion in Scotland, 1715; With full accounts of the principal traitors who were
executed. 60
COLONEL HENRY OXBURGH Executed at Tyburn, May 14, 1716, for High
Treason. 71
RICHARD GASCOIGNE Executed at Tyburn, May 25; 1716, for High Treason. 72
REV. WILLIAM PAUL Executed at Tyburn, July 18, 1716, for High Treason. 73
JOHN HALL, ESQ Executed at Tyburn, July 18,1716, for High Treason. 75
ROBERT WHITTY, FELIX O'HARA, AND JOSEPH SULLIVAN Executed at
Tyburn, July 18,1716, for High Treason. 78
JAMES GOODMAN Executed March 12, 1716, for Horse Stealing, &c. 79
HENRY POWEL Highwayman, executed at Tyburn, on the 23rd of December, 1715.
81
JOHN HAMILTON, ESQ. Tried in Scotland for Murder, and beheaded by the
Maiden, 30th of June, 1716 83
JAMES QUIN, ESQ. The Celebrated Tragedian, tried for Murder at the Old Bailey in
1717, and convicted of Manslaughter 85
THE MARQUIS DE PALEOTTI An Italian Nobleman, executed at Tyburn for the
Murder of his Servant, 17th of March, 1718. 87
JOSEPH STILL Executed At Stanford-Hill, March, 22, 1717, For Murder 89
JAMES SHEPPARD Jacobite, who plotted to assassinate King George I. Executed
17th March, 1718 90
JOHN PRICE, COMMONLY CALLED JACK KETCH A Rogue and Liar, who was
not believed when he spoke the Truth. He held the Office of Common Hangman, and
was himself hanged in Bunhill Fields in May, 1718, for murdering a Woman 94
JAMES FILEWOOD ALIAS VILET Convicted of picking Pockets, and sentenced to
Death. Executed at Tyburn in October, 1718 98
CATHERINE JONES Tried for Bigamy 100
LIEUTENANT EDWARD BIRD Took a Pinch of Snuff just before his Execution at
Tyburn, on 23rd of February, 1719, for murdering a Waiter 101
MARK ANTHONY DE LA PORTE A Catholic priest, sentenced to life imprisonment
for performing a Catholic marriage, 4th March 1719 102
NICHOLAS HORNER A Minister's Son who turned Highwayman, and was executed
3rd of April, 1719 103
THOMAS BUTLER, Esq. Highwayman, executed at Tyburn, on the 8th Of February
1720. 107
BARBARA SPENCER Executed at Tyburn on the 5th of July, 1721, for Coining. She
was probably the first Woman to suffer the Death Penalty for what was regarded as
Treason 108
MATTHEW CLARKE Executed for murder, 28th July, 1721 110
WILLIAM SHAW Executed in 1721 for "Murdering" his Daughter, who, it was
afterwards proved, committed Suicide 112
JOHN MEFF Executed for Returning from Transportation 114
ARTHUR GRAY Convicted of Burglary 116
NATHANIEL HAWES Highwayman, who underwent Torture for the Sake of his
Honour. Executed at Tyburn, 21st of December, 1721. 118
ARUNDEL COOKE, ESQ., AND JOHN WOODBURNE The First who suffered
Death under the Coventry Act. Executed at Bury St Edmunds, 5th of April, 1722 120
JOHN HARTLEY AND THOMAS REEVES Footpads, who were executed at
Tyburn on the 4th of May, 1722, after One had, by a Ruse, petitioned the King 122
JOHN HAWKINS AND JAMES SIMPSON Highwaymen and Mail Robbers.
Executed at Tyburn on the 21st of May, 1722 124
WILLIAM BURRIDGE Executed at Tyburn, May 22, 1722, for Horse-stealing. 127
NATHANIEL JACKSON Highwayman, executed at Tyburn, on the 18th of July,
1722 128
THOMAS BUTLOGE Robber, hanged at Tyburn, for basely betraying his trust, in
robbing his master, on the 18th of July, 1722 129
MARGARET FISHER Sentenced to death for privately stealing, but afterwards
pardoned, September, 1722 131
MATTHIAS BRINSDEN Executed for killing his wife. 133
ROBERT WILKINSON, JAMES LINCOLN, AND THOMAS MILKSOP
Murderers, executed at Tyburn, Sept. 24, 1722. 136
WILLIAM SPIGGOT AND THOMAS PHILLIPS Who suffered the Torture for
refusing to plead. Executed at Tyburn, 23rd of February, 1723, for Robbery 138
RICHARD OAKEY, JOHN LEVEY, AND MATTHEW FLOOD Executed at
Tyburn, on the 23rd of February, 1723, for robbery 141
JACOB SAUNDERS Who murdered a Farmer at Caversham, and was arrested at
Church. Executed in March, 1723 143
CHRISTOPHER LAYER, ESQ. Executed at Tyburn, March 15, 1723, for High
Treason. 146
WILLIAM BURK After an adventurous Seafaring Life as a Boy he became a Robber,
and was executed at Tyburn on the 8th of April, 1723 149
SARAH PRIDDON, alias SALLY SALISBURY Convicted of stabbing a gentleman
in a brothel 151
ALEXANDER DAY, Alias MARMADUKE DAVENPORT, ESQ. A Sharper 154
WILLIAM HAWKSWORTH Soldier, who killed a Civilian with his Musket in St
James's Park. Executed at Tyburn on the 17th of June, 1723 159
THOMAS ATHOE, THE ELDER, AND THOMAS ATHOE, THE YOUNGER
Executed for murder 160
CAPTAIN JOHN MASSEY Executed at Execution-Dock, July 26, 1723, for Piracy.
(A Very Hard Case.) 163
PHILIP ROCHE Executed on 5th of August, 1723, for many Murders on the High
Seas and Piracy 165
WILLIAM DUCE, JAMES BUTLER, — WADE, and – MEADS A desperate and
cruel gang of murderers and footpads. Executed at Tyburn, August 14, 1723. 168
HUMPHRY ANGIER Executed at Tyburn, September 9, 1723, for Robbery. 170
RICHARD PARVIN, EDWARD ELLIOT, ROBERT KINGSHELL, HENRY
MARSHALL, EDWARD PINK, JOHN PINK AND JAMES ANSELL The "Waltham
Blacks," who were executed at Tyburn, 4th of December, 1723, for Murder and Deer-
Stealing 172
JOHN STANLEY An Insolent Puppy who presumed on his Swordsmanship. Executed
at Tyburn, 23rd of December, 1723, for murdering his Mistress 175
STEPHEN GARDENER Executed at Tyburn, 3rd of February, 1724, for House-
breaking, after being warned that the Bellman would say his Verses over him 178
JOSEPH BLAKE ALIAS BLUESKIN Made an Unsuccessful Attempt to kill Jonathan
Wild by cutting his Throat. Executed in November, 1724, at Newgate 180
JACK SHEPPARD A Daring Housebreaker, who made Ingenious Escapes from
Prison and even tried to foil his Executioner at Tyburn on 16th of November, 1724 183
LEWIS HOUSSART Executed at Swan-Alley, Shoreditch, Dec. 7, 1724, for Murder.
194
THOMAS PACKER and JOSEPH PICKER Executed at Tyburn February, 1, 1725,
For Highway Robbery: 198
VINCENT DAVIS Executed at Tyburn, April 3rd, 1725, for the murder of his wife. 200
ROBERT HARPHAM Under the Pretence of making Buttons he made Coins, and
was executed at Tyburn, 24th of May, 1725 202
JONATHAN WILD Director of a Corporation of Thieves, and a most famous
Receiver. Executed at Tyburn, 24th of May, 1725 203
EDWARD BURNWORTH, WILLIAM BLEWITT, EMANUEL DICKENSON,
THOMAS BERRY, JOHN LEGEE, JOHN HIGGS, and —— MARJORAM Another
gang of murderers and daring robbers. 233
CATHERINE HAYES Who with Others foully murdered her Husband, and was
burned alive on 9th of May, 1726 239
RICHARD SAVAGE, ESQ. (THE CELEBRATED POET, SON OF THE EARL OF
RIVERS AND THE UNNATURAL COUNTESS OF MACCLESFIELD), JAMES
GREGORY, ESQ., AND WILLIAM MERCHANT, ESQ. Murderers who escaped
Death 247
MARGARET DIXON Who was married a Few Days after she was hanged for
Murder in 1728 250
EDWARD BELLAMY A Daring Shop-Robber, who was executed at Tyburn On 27th
of March, 1728 252
JOHN EVERETT Highwayman, Turnkey and Ale-House Keeper. Executed at Tyburn,
20th of February, 1729 255
MAJOR JOHN ONEBY Who murdered a Man in a Duel and cheated the Gallows,
1729 259
JAMES CLUFF Murderer, executed at Tyburn, July 25, 1729, on an appeal, after
being acquitted. 262
JOHN GOW Captain of a notorious Gang of Pirates. Executed at Execution Dock,
11th of August, 1729 for Piracy 264
JEPHTHAH BIG Executed at Tyburn, Sept. 19, 1729, for sending a letter to extort
money. 276
FRANCIS CHARTERIS Convicted of using violence to the person of Ann Bond. 278
SIR SIMON CLARKE, BART., AND LIEUTENANT ROBERT ARNOTT
Convicted as Highwaymen in 1731, but afterwards reprieved 283
ROBERT IRWIN Executed at Tyburn, in the year 1731, for Murder. 284
WILLIAM SMITH A notorious horse-stealer, executed at Chelmsford, April 13, 1731
285
ROBERT HALLAM Executed for murdering his wife, February 14th, 1732 286
JOHN HEWIT AND ROSAMUND ODERENSHAW Murderers, executed March 29,
1732 288
JOHN WALLER, alias TREVOR, Pilloried for perjury, and pelted to death by the
populace, 13th June, 1732 291
ELY HATTON Murderer, executed at Gloucester, August, 1732 293
ELEANOR BEARE (A very curious and wicked case.) 295
JOSEPH POWIS Strolling player turned housebreaker, executed 9th October, 1732
297
WILLIAM SHELTON Executed at Tyburn, October 9, 1732, for highway robbery.
308
ISAAC AND THOMAS HALLAM Murderers and Highwaymen, hanged in
Lincolnshire, 20th of February, 1733, upon the Spot where they committed their
Crime 312
SARAH MALCOLM Executed for the Murder of a Wealthy Old Lady in the Inns of
Court, 7th of March, 1733 313
WILLIAM ALCOCK Who first abandoned, and then murdered, his wife. Executed at
Northampton, March 9, 1733. 316
WILLIAM GORDON Highwayman, on whose body, after execution, an experiment
was made to bring him to life 318
CAPTAIN JOHN PORTEOUS Convicted of murder, but murdered by the mob 321
JOHN COLLINS Executed for murdering Jane Upcot, and exposing her head on a
spike, 1737 327
THOMAS CARR, AN ATTORNEY , AND ELIZABETH ADAMS Executed at
Tyburn, 18th of January, 1738, for Robbery 328
WILLIAM UDALL A Profligate Apprentice, who turned Highwayman. Executed at
Tyburn, 14th of March, 1738 329
JOHN TOON AND EDWARD BLASTOCK Executed at Tyburn, May 20, 1738, for
highway robbery. 331
JOSEPH JOHNSON Pickpocket and "Esquire," who swindled many Farmers and was
executed at Tyburn, 19th of July, 1738, at the Age of Sixty 336
WILLIAM NEWINGTON A Writer, who forged a Draft for One Hundred and
Twenty Pounds and was executed at Tyburn on 26th of August, 1738 338
JOHN TOTTERDALE Executed at Tyburn, October 5, 1738, for the murder of his
wife. 340
GEORGE PRICE Sentenced to Death for murdering his Wife, but died of Jail Fever,
22nd of October, 1738 342
JOHN RICHARDSON AND RICHARD COYLE Pirates, hanged at Execution Dock,
25th January, 1738 345
GEORGE MANLEY Executed at Wicklow, in Ireland, in August, 1738, for murder.
355
RICHARD TURPIN A famous Highway Robber, who shot dead one of his own
Comrades and was executed at York on 7th of April, 1739 357
DAVID ROBERTS Executed for high treason, in diminishing the gold coin of the
realm, April 3, 1739. 368
ABRAHAM WELLS Executed at Tyburn, May 30, 1739, for horse-stealing. 371
JAMES CALDCLOUGH Executed for Robbery, July 2nd 1739. 373
THOMAS LYMPUS Executed near Wells, in Somersetshire, 21st of September 1739,
for robbing the Mail. 377
THOMAS BARKWITH An accomplished Scholar and Linguist, who was executed at
Tyburn 1st of December, 1739, for Robbery 379
EDWARD JOINES Executed for the murder of his wife, December 21, 1739. 381
MARY YOUNG ALIAS JENNY DIVER The Head of a Gang of Thieves of every
Description. Executed at Tyburn, 18th of March, 1740 384
CHARLES DREW Parricide, executed at St. Edmondsbury, 9th April, 1740 391
ELIZABETH AND MARY BRANCH Mother and Daughter, executed at Ivelchester
on the 3rd of May, 1740, for murdering a Girl 394
WILLIAM CREAK Mail robber: Executed, much lamented, on Bagshot-heath, and
his body hung in chains, where he committed the robbery. 396
WILLIAM DUELL Executed for Murder and came to Life again while being
prepared for Dissection in Surgeons' Hall, 24th of November, 1740 397
GILBERT LANGLEY Transported for robbing a man of three farthings, December,
1740 398
CAPTAIN SAMUEL GOODERE, A FRATRICIDE; MATTHEW MAHONY AND
CHARLES WHITE Executed for the Murder of Sir John Dinely Goodere, Bart., at
the Hot Wells, Bristol, 20th of April, 1741 407
CAPTAIN HENRY SMYTHEE Executed at Dorchester, April 12, 1741, for the
murder or the female whom he had seduced. 409
JAMES HALL Hanged for Petit-Treason, in the Murder of his Master. 412
RICHARD THORNHILL, ESQ
Convicted of Manslaughter on 18th of May, 1711, for killing Sir
Cholmondeley Deering in a Duel
SIR CHOLMONDELEY DEERING and Mr Richard Thornhill had dined
together on the 7th of April, 1711, in company with several other gentlemen, at the
Toy, at Hampton Court, when a quarrel arose, which occasioned the unhappy
catastrophe that afterwards happened. During the quarrel Sir Cholmondeley struck Mr
Thornhill, and 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
interposing, 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 he had received; adding: "Sir Cholmondeley, you
know where to find me." Soon after this the company broke up, and the two men went
home in different coaches, without any further steps being taken toward their
reconciliation.
On the 9th of April Sir Cholmondeley went to the coffee-house at Kensington
and asked for Mr Thornhill. He not being there, he went to his lodgings, and the
servant showed him into the dining-room, to which 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, which he declined, but drank a glass of small-beer. After this the
gentlemen ordered a hackney-coach, in which they went to Tothill Fields, and there
advanced towards each other, in a resolute manner, and fired their pistols almost in
the same moment.
Sir Cholmondeley, being mortally wounded, fell to the ground; and 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, 1711, Richard
Thornhill, Esq. was indicted at the Old Bailey sessions for this murder In the course of
this trial the above-recited facts were proved, and a letter was produced, of which the
following is a copy:-
8th April, 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.
Mr Thornhill's servant swore that he believed this letter to be his master's
handwriting; but Mr Thornhill hoped the jury would not pay any regard to this
testimony, as the boy had acknowledged in court that he never saw him write. Several
persons of distinction testified that Mr Thornhill was of a peaceable disposition, and
that, on the contrary, the deceased was of a remarkably quarrelsome temper. On
behalf of Mr Thornhill it was further deposed that on Sir Cholmondeley being asked if
he came by his hurt through unfair usage, he 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
burned in the hand.
Of all the vices which disgrace our age and nation that of duelling is one of the
most ridiculous, absurd, and criminal. Ridiculous, as it is a compliance with a custom
that would plead fashion in violation of the laws of our country: Absurd, as it
produces no test by which to determine on the merits of the point in dispute; for the
aggrieved is equally liable to fall with the aggressor; and Criminal (criminal indeed in
the highest degree!) as it arises from pre-determined murder on each side. Gentlemen
talk of the dignity of honour, and the sacredness of character, without reflecting that
there can be no honour in deliberate murder, no purity of character in a murderer!
The man who sends a challenge to another, does but say, in other words, 'I am
a professed murderer. I mean to send you into the other world, with all your
imperfections on your head. — But I am a man of honour — though I will not take a
purse, I will cut a throat. I will do every thing in my power to deprive you of life, and
to make your friends and relations wretched for life. If I fall by your hands, my
friends will be equally miserahle: — but no matter — the laws of honour demand that
we should be murderers, and we are both too wise to obey the laws of our God.'
Horrid practice! disgraceful to our country, and equally contrary to all Divine
and human institutions! — It is to be hoped the time will come when the legislature
shall decree that every man who is base enough to send a challenge shall be doomed
to suffer death as a murderer. Let no fear be entertained that this can derogate from
our national character of genuine courage. Nothing is more true than the observation
of the poet, that
Cowards are cruel, but the brave
Love mercy, and delight to save.
TOM GERRARD
Taught a Dog to pick Pockets, and was executed for Housebreaking at
Tyburn in August, 1711
OF all the two hundred and forty-two malefactors who were executed at
Tyburn, and elsewhere in and about London, from the beginning of Sir Thomas
Abney's mayoralty to the end of Sir Richard Hoare's, this Thomas Gerrard was not,
for the short time he triumphed in his villainy, inferior to any of them for wickedness.
He was born in the parish of St Giles-in-the-Fields, of good and honest parents, who
kept the Red Lion Inn in Holborn. He took to the trade of thieving, following it for a
consider- able time, whereby he had often been in Newgate, and was condemned once
before he committed the fact for which he at last suffered death.
One time Gerrard, having committed a great robbery in London, and fearing to
be apprehended for it, stole a horse worth above thirty pounds and rode into
Lincolnshire, where, lying at a by-inn within a mile of Grantham, and espying a very
large punch-bowl made of a new-fashioned mixed metal resembling plate, brought to
some company, he supposed it to be really silver, and by its bigness to be worth
nearly sixty pounds. Then going to bed, and observing this bowl to be locked up in a
closet in the room where he lay, he broke it open in the dead of the night and privately
carried off the imaginary plate, without his horse, to Newark-upon-Trent, where,
being made sensible it was not silver, he threw it into the river, but damned himself to
the very pit of hell for being such a fool as to leave a horse of considerable value for a
bargain not worth twenty shillings. However, to be revenged on the people, who had
got sufficient by his covetousness, he went, about a month after, to the house, when it
was late at night, and setting fire to it burned it down to the ground in less than two
hours; and by this villainous action ruined a whole family. This base offender had a
dog, which he had taught to pick pockets as well as the best artist whatever of that
profession; but after the untimely end of his master, seeking out for another, who
should he pitch upon but Dr —, the Presbyterian parson, on whom he mightily
fawned; and being a pretty dog, he was liked by that reverend gentleman, who made
very much of him, till one day, going through Newgate Street, whilst he went into a
tobacconist's shop to buy some tobacco, his new dog in the meantime ran into
Newgate Market and fetched him a purse, in which was betwixt thirty and forty
shillings, which he received without asking any questions. The old doctor presently
stepping in somewhere else, the dog ran again to Newgate Market, and fetched him
another purse, with much such another sum of money, and gave him that too. The
doctor, looking now on his dog to be a great offender in that kind, as soon as he came
home called this criminal to justice, and very fairly hanged the poor cur, for fear he
should at last pick pockets in his meeting-house.
Though housebreaking was the chief villainy which Tom Gerrard went upon,
yet sometimes he counterfeited bank- notes, Exchequer bills, malt tickets, bills of sale
or seamen's tickets, signed with any intricate hand. A certain profane gentleman in
Leicester Fields once had a parrot, which he taught to swear and curse more than
anything else. One day it happened that Tom Gerrard, sneaking about dinner-time into
the parlour where Poll was hanging in a cage, went to the sideboard and took off
several pieces of plate; but the parrot, having an eye upon him, set up her throat and
fell a-screaming out: "Thieves, G-d d —-n you! Thieves, thieves, by G-d, make
haste!" This uproar quickly alarmed the servants, who, running to see the cause of
Poll's swearing and cursing after this manner, apprehended Tom Gerrard, on whom
they found half-a-dozen silver spoons, and as many forks of the same metal; for which
he was burned in the hand. Thomas Gerrard and Tobias Tanner were both indicted for
breaking open the dwelling-house of William Gardiner, in the night-time, and taking
from thence eight dozen pairs of worsted stockings, value ten pounds, and eight
pounds' weight of thread, twenty-five shillings, with other things of value, the goods
of the said William Gardiner, on the 10th of August, 1710. It appeared that the
prosecutor, about midnight on the date aforesaid, was knocked up by the watch, and
found his house broken open and his goods gone. To fix it upon the prisoners, one
John Audrey, a person concerned with them, deposed that himself, with the prisoners,
and a person not taken, broke into the prosecutor's shop, through the brickwork under
a window, about twelve at night, took away the goods, and sold them to Mat Bunch
for three pounds six shillings, which was equally divided amongst them. Gerrard upon
his trial confessed the fact; but the evidence being not strong enough against Tanner,
he was acquitted. Gerrard was accordingly ordered for execution, which he suffered at
Tyburn, on Wednesday, the 24th of August, 1711, aged twenty-four years.
WILL MAW
Having committed a Robbery, Maw ordered his Wife to organise a Mock
Funeral, so that People should think he was dead. He was executed at
Tyburn in October 1711
THIS noted villain, aged fifty years when he was hanged, was born at
Northallerton, in Yorkshire, from whence he came to London, at about twenty years
of age, and served his apprenticeship with a cabinetmaker, and for a great while
followed that occupation in the parish of St Giles's Cripplegate, where he dwelt for
above eighteen years together; and for many years before his death, having left off
working at his trade, he maintained himself by some illegal ways of living, such as the
buying of stolen goods, and thereby encouraging thieves and robbers. He had also
been addicted to coining, and for some of his irregular actions had a fine of ten
pounds laid upon him in September, 1705, was burned in the hand in April 1710, and
in September following, and twice ordered to hard labour in Bridewell.
Having once committed a robbery, for which he was afraid to be apprehended,
when he lived in Golden Lane he pretended to be very sick at home, and ordered his
wife to give out that he was dead. His wife, being a cunning baggage, so ordered the
matter that she cleanly executed his command, bought him a coffin, invited about
forty or fifty neighbours to the funeral, and followed the corpse in a mournful
condition, as if her poor husband had been dead indeed. As they were coming by the
Red Cross ale-house, at the end of Red Cross Street, to St Giles's Churchyard, near
Cripplegate, some company who were drinking at the door were inquisitive to know
who was dead, and told it was old Maw, whom they knew very well. About five years
afterwards one of those persons who were drinking, as aforesaid, was a prisoner in
Wood Street Compter for debt, and Maw coming in also a little after him the former
person was so surprised at the latter that at first he had not power to speak to him; but
at length recovering some courage, as dreading he had seen a ghost, quoth he: "Is not
your name Maw, sir?" Maw replied: "Yes, sir; as sure as your name is Watkins." The
other said again: "Why, I thought you had been dead and buried five years ago!"
"Yes," replied Maw," so I was, in trespasses and sins." "But I mean," said Watkins,
"laid yourself corporally in the grave." "No," replied Maw, "I was not dead; but being
at that time under some troubles, I was at the charge of a coffin to save my neck, and
my wife gave out I was really defunct, supposing then my adversaries would not look
for me in my grave."
After a long course of iniquities Maw was at last committed to Newgate
himself, and at the ensuing sessions convicted of five indictments; and on Wednesday,
the 29th of October, 1711 , he met with the punishment he so well deserved, at the
usual place of execution.
DAVY MORGAN
Executed at Presteigne in April, 1712, for murdering Edward Williams
DAVY MORGAN was born at Brecknock, the chief town in Brecknockshire,
in South Wales, whence he came up to London in the quality of a serving-man to a
Welsh knight, when about eighteen years of age; but young as he was, he quickly
learned to rob his master of money and clothes, to the value of above ten pounds, and
then ran away from his service.
Being now his own master, the company he kept was none of the best, for they
were all the greatest housebreakers, pickpockets and shoplifters, both in town and
country; by whose conversation becoming as wicked as the best of them, he had not
long turned thief before he broke open the house of a Venetian ambassador in Pall
Mall and robbed him of above two hundred pounds' worth of plate, for which, being
shortly after apprehended, he was committed to the Gatehouse at Westminster. After
he had procured his liberty again he broke, one night, into the house of Doctor Titus
Oates, in Axe Yard, in Westminster, and stood sentinel over that reverend divine
whilst his comrades rifled most of the rooms; and then, tying him neck and heels, after
the same manner as they do a soldier, with a couple of muskets which they found in
the kitchen, Davy very sorely gagged him, saying that if his mouth had been as well
crammed but a few years ago, he had not sworn so many men's lives away for
pastime.
Another time, getting into a gaming-house frequented much by Bully Dawson,
and perceiving he had won a great deal of money, he requested the favour of speaking
a word or two with him in the next room. Dawson, taking him to be some chub or
cully, went along with him, where, shutting the door, Davy pulls out a pistol, and
presenting it to his breast, quoth he: "I want money, sir, for a very extraordinary
occasion; therefore deliver what you have without any resistance, for if you make but
the least noise soever I'll shoot you through the heart, though I were sure to die on the
spot." Bully Dawson, being strangely surprised at these words, and dreading what a
desperate man might do in his rage, gave him all his money, which was about
eighteen guineas. Then, tying him hand and foot, Davy went about his business. By
that time the bully thought this bold robber was gone, so calling out for help, several
sharping gamesters came out of the gaming-room to him and, untying him, asked how
that adventure came to pass. Which Dawson relating through several volleys of loud
oaths, they fell a-laughing heartily at him, and cried: "Dawson, 'twas a fair nick."
At last Davy Morgan, having committed a great robbery in London, in
breaking open a Jew's house in Duke's Place, and taking from thence above two
thousand pounds in gold, fled into Wales; and in Presteigne, in Radnorshire, did not
only rob the church of its communion plate, but also broke open the house of one
Edward Williams, whom he barbarously murdered. But being apprehended at Bristol,
and sent to jail in the county where he committed this most barbarous crime, he was
executed at Presteigne, in April, 1712, aged forty-three years, and hanged in chains.
ELIZABETH MASON
Executed for the murder of her godmother, 18th June, 1712
THIS wretched woman was born at Melton Mowbray, in Leicestershire, and,
while very young, was conveyed by her friends to Sutton, near Peterborough, in
Northamptonshire; from whence, at the age of seven years, she was brought to
London by Mrs. Scoles, who told her she was her godmother; and with this lady and
her sister, Mrs. Cholwell, she lived, and was employed in household work; but,
having conceived an idea that she should possess the fortune of her mistresses on their
death, she came to the horrid resolution of removing them by poison.
On Thursday in Easter-week, 1712, being sent of an errand, she went to a
druggist's shop, where she bought a quantity of yellow arsenic, on the pretence that it
was to kill rats. On the following morning she mixed this poison with some coffee, of
which Mrs. Stoles drank, and soon afterwards, finding herself extremely ill, said her
end was approaching, and expired the next day in great agonies. Mrs. Cholwell
receiving no injury from what little coffee she drank, the girl determined to renew her
attempt to poison her; in consequence of which she went again to the same shop about
a fortnight afterwards, and bought a second quantity of arsenic, which she put into
some water-gruel prepared for Mrs. Cholwell's breakfast, on the following morning. It
happening, providentially, that the gruel was too hot, the lady put it aside some time
to cool, during which time most of the arsenic sank to the bottom. She then drank
some of it, found herself very ill, and, observing the sediment at the bottom of the
basin, sent for her apothecary, who gave her a great quantity of oil to drink, by the
help of which the poison was expelled.
Unfavourable suspicions now arising against Elizabeth Mason, she was taken
into custody, and, being carried before two justices of the peace, on the 30th of April,
she confessed the whole of her guilt, in consequence of which she was committed to
Newgate.
On the 6th of June, 1712, she was indicted for the murder of Jane Scoles, by
mixing yellow arsenic with her coffee; and, pleading guilty to the indictment, she
received sentence of death, in consequence of which she was executed at Tyburn on
the 18th of June, 1712.
In the case of this malefactor we see, in a striking light, the fatal consequences
of lying; for if, after she had first defrauded her mistresses, she had possessed grace
sufficient to have acknowledged her crime, she would probably have been forgiven,
and her repentance would have secured her peace of mind during her future life: but
the concealing her faults by lying naturally led her to the commission of greater
crimes, which ended in her final destruction. Of all crimes lying is one of the meanest,
and ought to be studiously avoided by those who wish to be happy in this world or the
next. Very true is the observation of the poet:
'But liars we can never trust,
Tho' they should speak the thing that's true;
And he that does one fault at first,
And lies to hide it, makes it two.'
ELIZABETH CHIVERS
Executed for the murder of her bastard child, 1st August, 1712
AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in the month of July, 1712, Elizabeth
Chivers was indicted for the wilful murder of her female bastard child, Elizabeth
Ward, by drowning it in a pond; and, pleading guilty, she received sentence of death.
This unnatural woman was a native of Spitalfields, but lived at Stepney at the
time of the commission of the murder. The account she gave of herself after she was
under sentence of death was as follows — She said that her father dying while she
was very young, left her in indigent circumstances, which obliged her to go to service
when she was only fourteen years of age; that she lived in several reputable families,
in which her conduct was deemed irreproachable.
When she arrived almost at the age of thirty years, she lived with one Mr.
Ward, an attorney, who prevailed on her to lie with him; in consequence of which she
bore the child which she afterwards murdered.
Finding herself pregnant, she removed from Mr. Ward's to another family,
where she remained about six weeks, and then took private lodgings; in which she
was delivered of a girl, who was baptized by the name of Elizabeth Ward. The father,
agreeable to his promise, provided for the mother and child for about three months,
when Mrs. Ward, discovering her habitation, exposed her in the neighbourhood, so
that she was ashamed to make her appearance.
Enraged by this circumstance, she was tempted to destroy her child on which
she took it into the fields, and threw it into a pond not far from Hackney; but some
people near the spot, happening to see what passed, took her into custody, and carried
her before a magistrate, who committed her to Newgate.
All the time that she remained in this gloomy prison, her mind seemed to be
tortured with the most agonizing pains on account of the horrid crime of which she
had been guilty; and she expressed a sense of her torments in the following striking
words, which she spoke to a clergyman who attended her: 'Oh, sir! I am lost! I cannot
pray, I cannot repent; my sin is too great to be pardoned! I did commit it with
deliberation and choice, and in cold blood: I was not driven to it by necessity. The
father had all the while provided for me and for the child, and would have done so
still, had not I destroyed the child, and thereby sought my own destruction.'
She suffered the dreadful sentence of the law on the 1st of August, 1712.
It is very remarkable of this woman that she was near thirty years of age
before she was seduced, and previous to that time her character was unimpeached.
Hence let young women learn the importance of chastity, and consider how very little
they have to depend on when the character is once gone. Let men, likewise, he taught
to reflect what a horrid crime seduction is; and that, when once they tempt a young
woman to violate her chastity, they are only leading her to the brink of inevitable
destruction.
The terrors of conscience this poor creature underwent appear to have been of
the most dreadful kind, and afford us a shocking idea of the consequences resulting
from the crime of murder. What a deplorable state must that wretch be in, who
despairs to so great a degree as to be unable to repent! May God, in his mercy, grant
that none of the readers of this work may ever have occasion to repent of a crime so
shocking as murder! Nature revolts at the idea of so enormous an offence; but we
know not to what lengths our passions may lead us. Let us, therefore, constantly pray
that we may not be 'led into temptation;' and 'let him that standeth take heed lest he
fall.'
COLONEL JOHN HAMILTON
Convicted of Manslaughter, 11th of September, 1712, as Second in a Duel
between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mahon
NO occurrence, short of a national misfortune, at this time, engaged the public
equal to the memorable duet between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mahon; and no
crime of this nature was ever committed with more sanguinary dispositions. The
principals murdered each other, and Mr. Hamilton was one of the seconds.
John Hamilton, Esq., of St Martin's in the Fields, was indicted at the sessions
held at the Old Bailey on the 11th of September, 1712, for the murder of Charles Lord
Mahon, Baron of Oakhampton, on the 15th of November preceding; and at the same
time he was indicted for abetting Charles Lord Mahon and George Macartney, Esq.,
in the murder of James Duke of Hamilton and Brandon; and having pleaded not guilty
to these indictments, the witnesses proceeded to give their testimony in substance as
follows: —
Rice Williams, footman to Lord Mahon, proved that, his master having met
the Duke of Hamilton at the chambers of Master in Chancery, on Thursday, the 13th
of November, misunderstanding arose between them respecting the testimony of an
evidence: that when his lord came home at night he ordered that no person should be
admitted to speak with him the next morning except Mr Macartney: that on the
Saturday morning, about seven o'clock, this evidence, having some suspicion that
mischief would ensue, went towards Hyde Park, and seeing the Duke of Hamilton's
coach going that way he got over the Park wall; but just as he arrived at the place
where the duellists were engaged he saw both the noblemen fall, and two gentlemen
near them, whom he took to be the seconds, one of whom he knew to be Mr
Macartney; and the other (but he could not swear it was the prisoner) said: "We have
made a fine piece of work of it."
The waiters at two different taverns proved that the deceased noblemen and
their seconds had been at those taverns, and from what could be recollected from their
behaviour it appeared that a quarrel had taken place and a duel was in agitation; and
some of the Duke's servants and other witnesses deposed to a variety of particulars, all
which tended to the same conclusion.
But the evidence who saw most of the transaction was 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, where they were about a quarter of
an hour when he saw two other gentlemen come to them: that, 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 Mahon, his
surtout coat, and all immediately drew: that 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 upon him: that just as Lord Mahon 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
Mahon did not shorten his sword. He declared he did not see the seconds fight, but
they had their swords in their hands, assisting the lords.
Paul Boussier, a surgeon, swore that, on opening the body of the Duke of
Hamilton, he found a wound between the second and third ribs, which entered into the
body, inclining to the right side, which could not be given but by some push from
above.
Henry Amie, a surgeon, swore, that he found the Duke of Hamilton had
received a wound by a push, which had cut the artery and small tendon of his right
arm; another very large one in his right leg, a small one in his left leg, near the instep;
and a fourth on his left side, between the second and third ribs, which ran down into
his body most forward, having pierced the skin of his midriff, and gone through his
caul; but that the wound in his arm caused his so speedy death; and that he might have
lived two or three days with the wound in his breast, which wound could not be given
but by an arm that reached over, or was above him.
He further deposed, that he also viewed the Lord Mahon's body, and found
that he had 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
advantageous 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.
RICHARD TOWN
Executed at Tyburn, December 23, 1712, for Fraudulent Bankruptcy
Notwithstanding the law makes it death to any bankrupt, who shall be
convicted of fraudulently concealing, embezzling, or making away with any goods or
money to the value of twenty pounds, yet offences of this nature are constantly
committed in the most clandestine manner, and too often escape detection.
On the trial of Richard Town, who was the first that suffered under this Act of
Parliament, which passed only five years before his execution, a number of witnesses
were called to prove his being a regular trader, and to make it appear that he had
committed an act of bankruptcy; but the principal of these was Mr. Hodgson, who
deposed, that, being sent after the prisoner by the commissioners of bankrupts, he
apprehended him at Sandwich; and searching him, by virtue of his warrant, found in
his pocket twenty guineas in gold, and about five pound, seven shillings, and sixpence
in silver; and that he had three gold rings on his fingers; that he took from him the
gold, and five pounds in silver, and left him the odd silver.
Town had intended to sail in a ship which was bound to Amsterdam; but,
being too late, he went on board a packet-boat bound to Ostend; and, being taken sea-
sick, he went to the side of the vessel; and stooping down, dropped eight hundred
guineas, which were in two bags between his coat and waistcoat, into the sea.
A storm arising at sea, the packet-boat was driven back, and obliged to put
into Sandwich; in consequence of which Town was apprehended by Hodgson, as
above mentioned.
When Town was examined before the commissioners, be acknowledged that
he had ordered Thomas Norris to carry off his books and accounts, plate, and papers
of value, and like wise to convey a large quantity of tallow, which he supposed was
then arrived in Holland.
Now the counsel for Town insisted that, as Norris was a joint agent with him,
the act of one was the act of both; and that he could not legally be convicted till the
other (who was then abroad) could be apprehended, and tried with him. But, in order
to frustrate this argument, it was proved that Town had shipped off large quantities of
goods on his own account: besides, the circumstance of his being taken at Sandwich,
by Mr. Hodgson, with more than twenty pounds of his creditors' money in his
possession, was a sufficient proof of his guilt; wherefore the jury did not hesitate on
his case, and, he received sentence of death.
This unhappy man was a native of the county of Oxford, end for some time
had carried on a considerable business as a tallow-chandler, with great reputation; but
it appears too evident that be had formed a design of defrauding his creditors, because
at the time of his absconding, he had considerable property in the funds, and was
otherwise in good circumstances.
Before his conviction, he was indulged, with a chamber to himself in the
press-yard; but after sentence was passed on him, he was put into the condemned
hole, with the other prisoners: but here he caught a violent cold, which brought on a
deafness, a disorder to which he had been subject; wherefore, on complaining of this
circumstance, he was removed to his former apartments.
While under sentence of death, he refused to acknowledge the justice of his
sentences declaring that a person whom he had relieved, and preserved from ruin, had
occasioned his destruction. He attended the devotions of the place, declared that he
forgave his enemies, and begged that God would like wise forgive them. He was
exactly forty-one years of age the day of his execution; a circumstance which with
great composure, he mentioned to the Ordinary of Newgate, on his way to the place of
execution.
JACK BLEWIT
Was taken into Slavery by the Blacks on Pirates' Island. After gaining his
Liberty and returning to England he became a Highwayman. Executed in
1713 for the Murder of a Farmer's Daughter
JOHN BLEWIT was born near Bull Inn Court, in the Strand. His father was a
shoemaker, and bred him up to the same trade. But he had not been bound above three
years before the old man died, and Jack soon after became too headstrong for his
mother to manage him. As he advanced in years, so did he in vice. In the reign of
King James II. he changed what little he had of the Protestant religion for about the
same quantity of the Roman Catholic, being in hopes of getting himself promoted by
this compliance with the times. He entered under the Earl of Salisbury against the
Prince of Orange, by which means he got a horse, and he was a professed lover of
riding. But he did not long continue in this military station, for upon King William's
accession to the throne this newly raised regiment, being mostly Papists, was
presently disbanded, and he was put to new shifts to get his bread. He was resolved to
try if he could better his fortune at sea; so going on board a ship bound for Guinea,
sailing to Old Calabar, they entered the river called the Cross river, into Pirates'
Island, where, after they had taken in their Negroes, and were ready to sail, the master
called up the boatswain, and three men more, one of whom was Jack, to look out the
copper bars that were left, and carry them on shore to sell. The boatswain with his
small company desired they might have arms, not believing the inhabitants were so
harmless a people as reported. They took with them three muskets and one pistol, and
so rowed towards the shore; but unhappily their match fell into the water, and the ship
being fallen down lower towards the sea, and they ashamed to go back without
dispatching their business, Jack went ashore to the first house to light the match.
Before he was twenty rods from the water side he was seized on by half a score of
blacks, or rather tawny Moors, and by them hauled half a mile up into the country,
and thrown with great violence upon his belly, and so compelled to lie till they had
stripped him. In the meantime, more company coming, they were so eager for his poor
canvas apparel that some they tore off, and some they cut off, and therewith several
pieces of his flesh, to his intolerable pain, and with those rags they made themselves
little aprons.
Whilst all this was being done, Jack's clothing being very scarce there, his
comrades made the best of their way back again to their ship, telling the captain what
had befallen them, in having Jack taken from them by savage natives. Blewit was now
sold to a master, who was free to discourse, after he had learned in less than three
months the Tata language, which is easily attained, being comprehended in few
words, and all the Negroes speak it. After being four months in the country his master
presented him to the King of the Buccaneers, whose name was Esme, who
immediately gave him to his daughter Onijah. When the King went abroad Jack
attended him as his page of honour throughout the whole circuit of his dominions,
which was not above twelve miles; yet his Majesty boasted exceedingly of his power
and strength, and gloried extremely that he had a white man to attend him, whom he
employed to carry his bows and arrows.
During all the time Jack was a slave to this prince he never knew him to go
abroad and come home sober. But after two months' service the King of Calanach,
called Mancha, hearing of this white, courted his neighbour prince to sell him, and
accordingly he was sold, for a cow and a goat. This king was sober, free from the
debaucheries and mischiefs the other was subject to, and would often inquire of him
concerning the head of his country, and whether the kingdom he was of was bigger
than his own, whose whole dominions were not above twenty five miles in length and
fifteen miles in breadth.
Jack told as much as was convenient, keeping within the bounds of modesty,
yet relating as much as possible to the honour and dignity of his Queen, informing
him of the greatness of one of her kingdoms, the several shires and counties it
contained, with the number of its cities, towns and castles, and strength of each, the
infinite inhabitants, and valour of her subjects; which so amazed this petty prince that
he needed to mention no more of her Majesty's glory and dignity. It put him into such
a profound consternation that he resolved to find out some way to tender his respects
to this mighty princess, and could study none more convenient than that if he could
find a passage he would let him go to England, to inform Queen Anne of the great
favour and respect he had for her, and carry her a present, which should be two
cabareets, or goats, which they value at a high rate, this king himself having not above
seventeen or eighteen.
Though our captive lived happily with this prince, yet his desires and hopes
were still to return to his native country. At length he promised him that the first
English ship which came into the roads should have liberty to release or purchase him.
This much rejoiced Jack's heart, and he now thought every day a year till he could
hear or see some English ship arrive. The ship came in, the commander whereof was
Captain Royden, who had put in there for Negroes. The day after his arrival the King
let Jack go, sending him in a canoe, placed between a Negro's legs, with others to
guide this small vessel, for fear he should leap overboard and swim to the ship. At a
distance he hailed her in English, to the great surprise of those within her. The
Negroes let him stand up and show himself to the captain, to whom he gave an
account of his slavery; and being redeemed for five iron bars, he was taken on board,
where the seamen charitably apparelled him (for he was naked) and brought him safe
to England, after fourteen months' slavery.
Jack being back home again was resolved never to venture his carcass again at
sea. Deciding to try his fortune on the highway, he stole a horse out of a field by
Marylebone. Still wanting a saddle, pistols and other accoutrements, he was obliged to
sell the horse to buy all materials to make him a complete highwayman, and proposed
to steal another. To Smithfield he rides to make the best market he could, but he had
scarce rode a turn or two before the owner came up and challenged his horse; so poor
Jack, being apprehended, and carried before a magistrate, was committed to Newgate.
When he was tried, being condemned, he most earnestly begged the Court to
show him mercy, by transportation, or any other punishment but death. As it was his
first crime, and the prosecutor had his horse again, it was his good luck to obtain a
reprieve, and to plead to a pardon, too, within three or four months after his
confinement. Jack now being at liberty again, he was put to his trumps how to live;
and though he was unsuccessful in his first attempt at thieving, he would yet venture a
second time, resolving now to lose the horse or win the saddle. But his thoughts not
aspiring to great matters, as they did at first, he was resolved to try how Fortune
would smile on his adventures on the footpad; so one evening, going over Clapham
Common, he overtook a gentleman riding softly along, whom unawares he knocked
off his horse, by giving him an unlucky blow under his ear, which killed him. He fell
to rifling him, and took from him forty guineas and a gold watch worth twenty
guineas more. When he had done this, putting one of the deceased's feet into one of
the stirrups, the horse dragged him up and down the Common an hour or two before
he was taken up. At last, being carried to a house, and the coroner sitting on his body,
the inquest brought in his death to be occasioned by accidentally falling off his horse,
though he had lost his watch and money, which they supposed were dropped out of
his breeches by the position he was in, of his head downwards, whilst he was dragged
about the Common. Having thus by this complicated piece of villainy lined his
pockets, Jack made the best of his way to Yorkshire, where, after clothing himself, he
bought a horse, sword and pistols, and then sought out for new adventures on the
road. In Hertfordshire, overtaking a farmer's daughter, he shot her through the head
and robbed her of fourteen pounds in money, which she had that day received for her
father. The same evening he put up at an inn at Ware, whither a hue and cry coming
shortly after, he was taken up on suspicion, having some spots of blood on one of the
lapels of his coat; and being struck then with a remorse of conscience, he confessed
the murder, and was forthwith carried before a Justice of the Peace, who, after a long
examination, committed him to Hertford Jail. To drive away sorrow from his breast he
got drunk every day until the time of his trial, which was in the Lent Assizes, 1713,
when he was condemned for his life. When he was carried to the place of execution he
confessed having committed the murder on Clapham Common, as before related, and
then, after many devout ejaculations, he was turned off, in the forty-fifth year of his
age.
TOM GRAY
Highwayman who set Fire to a Prison. Executed at Tyburn in March, 1713
TOM GRAY was born in the parish of St James's, Clerkenwell, of very honest
parents, who put him apprentice to a tailor, with whom he served out his time, but not
without some shrewd suspicion of wronging his master sometimes, which was three
or four times made up with a sum of money. But when the term of his apprentice ship
was expired, taking great delight in going to Beveridge's Masquerade School, in
Short's Gardens, which was the nursery a long time for bringing up a great many
wicked villains, he there got acquainted with such a pack of rogues that their fellows
were not to be met with on this side the grave.
Here Gray, being enamoured with one Pat King, took to such irregularities that
they soon brought him to be burned in the hand. A little after which disgrace, his
father dying, and leaving him about eighty or ninety pounds, he had then so much
thought in him as to quit the society of all his wicked companions, by leaving London
and going to the city of Oxford, where he kept a victualling house for some years; and
improving his stock there, he left off that employment and came up to London again,
where, with what money he had, he set up a salesman's shop in Monmouth Street, in
the parish of St Giles in the Fields. This occupation he followed about three years,
when, encumbrances with debt lying very heavy on him, he left his house and quickly
complied with the wicked insinuations of bad men again, and embraced the unhappy
opportunities of doing a great deal of mischief to honest people.
Now he had grown so abominably wicked that he committed not a fact but
what was worthy of death. Beginning first to go on the footpad, he went one day into
an inn in Bcaconsfield, where he pulled out an old horseshoe which he had found on
the road; then, calling for a flagon of ale, he desired the landlady to lend him a frying
pan, into which he put his horseshoe, and fell to frying it as fast as he could, to the
great surprise of all the company who were drinking in the kitchen. "But," quoth he,
"had I now but one slice of bacon with this horseshoe, I should have a dinner fit for a
prince." There being two or three good flitches on a rack over his head, the landlady
cut him off a good hand some slice or two, perhaps not so much out of generosity as
for fear of having her frying pan burned to pieces, for want of butter or dripping with
the horseshoe.
"Now," quoth Gray, "had I but two or three eggs too, to fry with my horseshoe
and bacon, I would not change dinners with the best man in the town." Said an old
farmer who sat by, and had a bag with fifty pounds in it before him: "I am going
home, friend, with this money, not above half a quarter of a mile out of the town, and
if you can stay for your dinner a little till I come back, I'll bring thee a few eggs."
Gray thanked him very kindly, and setting the frying pan aside for the present, no
sooner had the old farmer gone away, but he, making some excuse to go into the yard,
met him backwards over the fields, and pulling out a couple of pistols quoth he to the
farmer: "Stand, sir." The farmer replied: "Why, how then can I fetch you eggs for
your horseshoe and bacon?" Said Gray: "Deliver me that bag under your arm, and I
can buy myself eggs without being beholden to anybody." The farmer made a great
many words about his money, but Gray offering to shoot him through the head, he not
only parted with it without any further denial, but also suffered himself to be tied hand
and foot.
Gray, having obtained this booty, soon laid out twelve pounds of it for a horse
and a couple of guineas for two pairs of pocket pistols; and being now (as he thought)
qualified for a true bred highwayman, his next attempt was upon a Scots pedlar, near
Cirencester, in Gloucestershire, taking from whom his whole pack, valued at about
sixty pounds, and a hue and cry being expeditiously sent after him, he was
apprehended and committed to Gloucester Jail, from whence he made his escape in a
short time, by setting it on fire, and thereby smothering three of his fellow prisoners to
death.
One day, drinking at Pancras, and espying a coach and six horses coming from
Highgate, he presently mounted, and meeting it in a narrow by-lane attacked the
gentleman who was in it, from whom he took forty-eight guineas, and then robbed the
coachman, postilion and two footmen of about fifty shillings. Not far from the same
place he assaulted a justice of the Peace coming from Hampstead, and taking from
him a silver watch, and about sixteen shillings, he bade him observe what oaths he
had sworn (which, to be sure, were not a few), to the end his Worship might make
him pay for them in case he should ever be brought before him for any
misdemeanour. He then committed several robberies in company with Edmund Eames
and William Bigs, particularly on the 2nd of January, 1713, when they stopped a
coach coming from Hampstead and took from the passengers who were in it about
one pound, eight shillings. But at last he was apprehended for assaulting and robbing
one Mrs Baxter, as she was coming from Hampstead towards London in a coach,
which he stopped near the halfway house and took from her three shillings; also for
robbing one Mrs Wilson of some money as she was riding to Hampstead; and for
robbing one Mr Samuel Harding of nine shillings near the halfway house to
Hampstead.
For these facts he was committed to Newgate, where his behaviour was very
abominable and wicked all the while he was under confinement; and though sentence
of death was passed on him, yet was he so hardened in his sin that he said to the
ordinary, because he refused to administer the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper to him,
he would certainly kill him if ever he durst venture to come to pray with him in the
cart at Tyburn, where he was executed on Wednesday, the 10th of March, 1713, aged
above fifty years.
NED BONNET
Took to the Highway because he was ruined by a Fire. Executed at
Cambridge Castle in March, 1713
EDWARD BONNET was born of very good and reputable parents in the Isle
of Ely, in Cambridgeshire, who bestowed some small education upon him, as reading,
writing and casting accounts. He set up as a grocer in the country, being at one time
worth above six hundred pounds. He was ruined by a fire, which burned all his goods
and house to the ground; and not being in a condition to retrieve his loss he came up
to London, to avoid the importunate duns of creditors, where, lighting into a gang of
highwaymen, he took to their courses, to raise himself, if possible, once more. Having
been upon several exploits, wherein he was successful, the sweet profit of his
enterprises made him so in love with robbing on the highway that he devoted himself
wholly to it, and committed above three hundred robberies, particularly in
Cambridgeshire, insomuch that he was much dreaded by the people in that country.
One time Ned Bonnet, in a rencounter on the road, met with the misfortune of
having his horse shot under him; whereupon he was obliged to follow his trade on
foot till he could get another. But it was not long before he took a good gelding out of
the grounds of a man who since kept the Red Lion Inn in Hounslow upon which,
riding straight into Cambridgeshire, a gentleman one day over took him on the road
who was like to have been robbed. Hearing Ned Bonnet to be tuning something of a
psalm, he thereupon took him to be a godly man, and desired his company to such a
place, to which he said he was also going (for a highwayman is never out of his way,
though he is going against his will to the gallows). But at length, Ned, coming to a
place convenient for this purpose, obliged the gentleman to stand and deliver his
money; which being above eighty guineas, he had the conscience to give him half a
crown to bear his charges till he had credit to recruit himself again. This gentleman
ever after could not endure the tune of a psalm, and had as great an aversion against
Sternhold, Hopkins, Tate and Brady as the devil has to holy water.
At length one Zachary Clare, whose father kept a baker's shop at Hackney,
being apprehended for robbing on the highway and committed to Cambridge Jail, to
save his own bacon made himself an evidence against Ned Bonnet, who, being
secured at his lodging in Old Street, was sent to Newgate, and remaining till the
assizes held at Cambridge, before Mr Baron Lovet, was carried down thither, and
executed before the castle, on Saturday, the 28th of March, 1713, to the general joy
and satisfaction of all the people in that country.
RICHARD NOBLE
Executed at Kingston, March 28, 1713, For the Murder of Mrs. Sayer.
WE forbear to comment upon that part of this shocking transaction which
relates to the female sex; and happy should we be, if our duty permitted us to consign
to oblivion, imputations upon those who were by nature formed to be the friend and
comfort of man. Richard Noble, we are sorry to say, was an attorney at law, and the
paramour of Mrs. Sayer, wife of John Sayer, Esq. who was possessed of about one
thousand pounds a year, and lord of the manor of Biddesden, in Buckinghamshire.
Mr. Sayer does not appear to have been a man of any great abilities, but was
remarkable for his good nature and inoffensive disposition. Mrs. Sayer, to whom he
was married in 1699, was the daughter of Admiral Nevil, a woman of an agreeable
person and brilliant wit; but of such an abandoned disposition as to be a disgrace to
her sex. Soon after Mr. Sayer's wedding, Colonel Salisbury married the Admiral's
widow; but there was such a vicious similarity in the conduct of the mother and
daughter, that the two husbands had early occasion to be disgusted with the choice
they had made. Mr. Sayer's nuptials had not been celebrated many days, before the
bride took the liberty of kicking him, and hinted that she would procure a lover more
agreeable to her mind. Sayer, who was distractedly fond of her, bore this treatment
with patience; and at the end of a twelvemonth she presented him a daughter, which
soon died: but he became still more fond of her after she had made him a father, and
was continually loading her with presents. Mr. Sayer now took a house in Lisle-street,
Leicester-fields, kept a coach, and did every thing which he thought might gratify his
wife: but her unhappy disposition was the occasion of temporary separations. At
times, however, she behaved with more complaisance to her husband, who had, after a
while, the honour of being deemed father of another child of which she was delivered;
and after this circumstance she indulged herself in still greater liberties than before;
her mother, who was almost constantly with her, encouraging her in this shameful
conduct. At length a scheme was concerted, which would probably have ended in the
destruction of Mr. Sayer and Colonel Salisbury, if it had not been happily prevented
by the prudence of the latter. The Colonel taking an opportunity to represent to Mrs.
Sayer the ill consequences that must attend her infidelity to her husband, she
immediately attacked him with the most outrageous language, and insulted him to that
degree that he threw the remainder of a cup of tea at her. The mother and daughter
immediately laid hold of this circumstance to inflame the passions of Mr. Sayer,
whom they at length prevailed on to demand satisfaction of the colonel. The challenge
is said to have been written by Mrs. Sayer, and when the colonel received it, he
conjectured that it was a plan concerted between the ladies to get rid of their
husbands. However, he obeyed the summons, and going in a coach with Mr. Sayer
towards Montague-House, he addressed him as follows: "Son Sayer, let us come to a
right understanding of this business. 'Tis very well known that I am a swordsman, and
I should be very far from getting any honour by killing you. But to come nearer to the
point in hand, thou shouldst know, Jack, for all the world knows, that thy wife and
mine are both what they should not be. They want to get rid of us both at once. If thou
shouldst drop, they'll have me hanged for it after." There was so much of obvious
truth in this remark, that Mr. Sayer immediately felt its force, and the gentlemen drove
home together, to the mortification of the ladies. Soon after this affair, Mrs. Sayer
went to her house in Buckinghamshire, where an intimacy took place between her and
the curate of the parish, and their amour was conducted with so little reserve, that all
the servants saw that the parson had more influence in the house than their master.
Mrs. Sayer coming to London, was soon followed by the young clergyman, who was
seized with the small- pox, which cost him his life. When he found there was no hope
of his recovery, he sent to Mr. Sayer, earnestly requesting to see him: but Mrs. Sayer,
who judged what he wanted, said that her husband had not had the small-pox, and
such a visit might cost him his life; she therefore insisted that her husband should not
go; and the passive man tamely submitted to this injunction, though his wife daily
sent a footman to enquire after the clergyman, who died without being visited by Mr.
Sayer. This gentleman had not been long dead, before his place was supplied by an
officer of the guards; but he was soon dismissed in favour of a man of great
distinction, who presented her with some valuable china, which she pretended was
won at Astrop Wells. About this time Mr. Sayer found his affairs considerably
deranged by his wife's extravagance; on which a gentleman recommended him to Mr.
Richard Noble (the subject of our present consideration), as a man capable of being
very serviceable to him. His father kept a very refutable coffee-house at Bath, and his
mother was so virtuous a woman, that when Noble afterwards went to her house with
Mrs. Sayer, in a coach and six, she shut the door against him. He had been well
educated, and articled to an attorney of eminence in New Inn, in which he afterwards
took chambers for himself; but he had not been in any considerable degree of practice
when he was introduced to Mr. Sayer. Soon after his introduction to Mr. Sayer's
family he became too intimate with Mrs. Sayer, and, if report said true, with her
mother likewise. However, these abandoned women had other prospects besides mere
gallantry, and considering Noble as a man of the world as well as a lover, they
concerted a scheme to deprive Mr. Sayer of a considerable part of his estate. The
unhappy gentleman, being perpetually teased by the women, at length consented to
execute a deed of separation, in which he assigned some lands in Buckinghamshire, to
the amount of one hundred and fifty pounds a year to his wife, exclusive of fifty
pounds a year for pin-money; and by this deed he likewise covenanted that Mrs. Sayer
might live with whom she pleased, and that he would never molest any person on
account of harbouring her. Mr. Sayer was even so weak as to sign this deed without
having counsel of his own to examine it. Not long after this, Mrs Sayer was delivered
of a child at Bath, but that the husband might not take alarm at this circumstance,
Noble sent him a letter, acquainting him that he was to be pricked down for high
sheriff of Buckinghamshire; and Mrs. Salisbury urged him to go to Holland to be out
of the way, and supplied him with some money on the occasion. It does not seem
probable that Sayer had any suspicion of Noble's criminal intercourse with his wife,
for, the night before he set out, he presented him with a pair of saddle-pistols and
furniture worth above forty pounds. Soon after he was gone, Mrs. Sayer's maid,
speaking of the danger her master might be in at sea, Mrs. Sayer said, "She should be
sorry his man James, a poor innocent fellow, should come to any harm; but she should
be glad, and earnestly wished that Mr. Sayer might sink to the bottom of the sea, and
that the bottom of the ship might come out." Not long after the husband was gone
abroad, Noble began to give himself airs of greater consequence than he had hitherto
done. He was solicitor in a cause in the Court of Chancery, in which Mr. Sayer was
plaintiff, and having obtained a decree, he obliged the trustees nominated in the
marriage articles to relinquish, and assumed the authority of a sole trustee. Mr. Sayer
remained in Holland nearly a year, during which time Noble publicly cohabited with
his wife; and when her husband returned she refused to live with him; but having first
robbed him of above two thousand pounds, in exchequer bills and other effects, she
went to private lodgings with Noble, and was shortly after delivered of another child.
After Mrs. Sayer had thus eloped from her husband, he caused an advertisement to be
inserted in the newspapers, of which the following is a copy:
"Whereas, Mary, the wife of John Sayer, Esq. late of Lisle-street, St. Anne's,
went away from her dwellinghouse, on or about the 23d of May last, in company with
Elizabeth Nevil, sister to the said Mary, and hath carried away near one thousand
pounds in money, besides other things of a considerable value, and is supposed to go
by some other name: he desires all tradesmen and others not to give her any credit, for
that he will not pay the same."
While Mrs. Sayer cohabited with Noble, he was constantly supplied with
money but he was not her only associate at that time, for, during his occasional
absence, she received the visits of other lovers. Noble now procured an order from the
Court of Chancery to take Mr. Sayer in execution for four hundred pounds, at the suit
of Mrs. Salisbury, the consequence of a judgment confessed by him, for form's sake,
to protect his goods from his creditors while he was in Holland. Mr. Sayer declared
that the real debt was not more than seventy pounds, though artful management and
legal expenses had swelled it to the above-mentioned sum. Hereupon Sayer took
refuge within the rules of the Fleet Prison, and exhibited his bill in chancery for relief
against these suits, and the deed of separation, which he obtained. In the mean time,
Mrs. Sayer finding herself liable to be exposed by the advertisement her husband had
caused to be inserted in the newspapers, she, with her mother, and Noble, took
lodgings in the Mint, Southwark, which was at that time a place of refuge for great
numbers of persons of desperate circumstances and abandoned characters. Mr. Sayer
having been informed of this, wrote several letters to her, promising that he would
forgive all her crimes, if she would return to her duty; but she treated his letters with
as much contempt as she had done his person. Hereupon he determined to seize on her
by force, presuming that he should recover some of his effects if be could get her into
his custody. He therefore obtained a warrant of a justice of the peace, and taking with
him two constables, and six assistants, went to the house of George Twyford, in the
Mint; the constables intimating that they had a warrant to search for a suspected
person; for if it had been thought that they were bailiffs, their lives would have been
in danger. Having entered the house, they went to a backroom, where Noble, Mrs.
Sayer, and Mrs. Salisbury, were at dinner; the door was no sooner open than Noble
drew his sword, and stabbing Sayer in the left breast, he died on the spot. The
constables immediately apprehended the murderer and the two women; but the latter
were so abandoned, that while the peace-officers were conveying them to the house of
a magistrate, they did little else than lament the fate of Noble.
Apprehensive that the mob would rise, from a supposition that the prisoners
were debtors, a constable was directed to carry the bloody sword before them, in
testimony that murder had been committed, which produced the wished-for effect, by
keeping perfect peace. The prisoners begged to send for counsel, which being granted,
Noble was committed for trial, after an examination of two hours; but the counsel
urged so many arguments in favour of the women, that it was ten o' clock at night
before they were committed. Soon afterwards this worthless mother and daughter
applied to the Court of King's Bench to be admitted to bail, which was refused them.
The coroner's inquest having viewed Mr. Sayer's body, it was removed to his lodgings
within the rules of the Fleet, in order for interment; and three days afterwards they
gave a verdict, finding Noble guilty of wilful murder, and the women of having aided
and assisted him in that murder. On the evening of the 12th of March, 1713, they were
put to the bar at Kingston, in Surrey, and having been arraigned on the several
indictments, to which they pleaded not guilty, they were told to prepare for their trials
by six o' clock on the following morning. Being brought down for trial at the
appointed time, they moved the court that their trials might be deferred till the
afternoon, on the plea that some material witnesses were absent: but the court not
believing their allegations, refused to comply with their request. It was imagined that
this motion to put off their trials was founded in the expectation that when the
business at the nisi prius bar was dispatched, many of the jurymen might go home, so
that when the prisoners had made their challenges, there might not be a number left
sufficient to try them, by which they might escape till the next assizes, by which time
they hoped some circumstances would happen in their favour. It being ordered that
the trials should commence, Mr. Noble and Mrs. Salisbury each challenged twenty of
the jury, and Mrs. Sayer challenged thirty-five. Here it should be observed, that all
persons indicted for felony, have a right to challenge twenty jurors, and those indicted
for petit-treason thirty-five; which may be done without alleging any cause. Happily,
however, the sheriff had summoned so great a number of jurors, that the ends of
public justice were not, for the present, defeated. Noble's counsel urged that some of
the persons who broke into the house might have murdered Mr. Sayer, or, if they had
not, the provocation he had received might be such as would warrant the jury in
bringing him guilty of manslaughter only. As the court had sat from six o' clock in the
morning, till one o' clock the next morning, the jury were indulged with some
refreshment before they left the bar; and after being out nine hours, they gave their
verdict that Mr. Noble was "Guilty," and Mrs. Salisbury and Mrs. Sayer were "Not
Guilty." When Mr. Noble was brought to the bar to receive sentence, he addressed the
court in the following words:
"My Lord,
I am soon to appear and render an account of my sins to God Almighty. If your
lordship should think me guilty of those crimes I have been accused, and convicted of
by my jury, I am then sure your lordship will think that I stand in need of such a
reparation, such a humiliation for my great offences, such an abhorrence of my past
life to give me hopes of a future one, that I am not without hopes that it will be a
motive to your lordship's goodness, that after you have judged and sentenced my body
to execution, you will charitably, assist me with a little time for the preservation of my
soul. If I had nothing to answer for but killing Mr. Sayer with precedent malice, I
should have no need to address myself to your lordship in this manner. It is now too
late to take advantage by denying it to your lordship, and too near my end to
dissemble it before God. I know, my lord, the danger, the hell that I should plunge
myself headlong into; I know I shall soon answer for the truth I am about to say,
before a higher tribunal, and a more discerning judge than your lordship, which is
only in heaven. I did not take the advantage to kill Mr. Sayer, by the thought or
apprehension that I could do it under the umbrage of the laws, or with impunity;
nothing was more distant from my thoughts than to remove him out of the world to
enjoy his wife (as was suggested) without molestation. Nor could any one have
greater reluctance or remorse, from the time of the fact to the hour of my trial, than I
have had, though the prosecutors reported to the contrary, for which I heartily forgive
them. My counsel obliged me to say on my trial, that I heard Mr. Sayer's voice before
he broke open the door; I told them as I now tell your lordship, that I did not know it
was him, till he was breaking in at the door, and then, and not before, was my sword
drawn, and the wound given, which wound, as Dr. Garth informed me, was so very
slight, that it was a thousand to one that he died of it. When I gave the wound, I
insensibly quitted the sword, by which means I left myself open for him to have done
what was proved he attempted, and was so likely for him to have effected, viz. to have
stabbed me; and his failure in the attempt has not a little excited my surprise. When I
heard the company run up stairs, I was alarmed, and in fear; the landlord telling me
instantly thereupon, that the house was beset, either for me or himself, added to my
confusion. I then never thought or intended to do mischief, but first bolted the fore-
door, and then bolted and padlocked the back-door, which was glazed, and began to
fasten the shutters belonging to it, designing only to screen myself from the violence
of the tumult. When he broke open the door, and not till then, I perceived and knew he
was present; and his former threats and attempts, which I so fully proved on my trial,
and could have proved much fuller, had not Mrs. Salisbury's evidence been taken
from me, made my fear so great, and the apprehension of my danger so near, that
what I did was the natural motion of self-defence, and was too sudden to be the result
of precedent malice; and I solemnly declare, that I did not hear or know from Twyford
the landlord, or otherwise, that any constable attended the deceased, till after the
misfortune happened. It was my misfortune, that what I said as to hearing the
deceased's voice was turned to my disadvantage by the counsel against me, and that I
was not entitled to any assistance of counsel, to enforce the evidence given for me, or
to remark upon the evidence given against me: which I don' t doubt would have fully
satisfied your lordship and the jury, that what happened was more my misfortune,
than my design or intention. If I had been able, under the concern, to remark upon the
evidence against me, that Mr. Sayer was but the tenth part of a minute in breaking
open the door, it could not then well be supposed by the jury, that I was preparing
myself, or putting myself in order to do mischief, which are acts of forethought and
consideration; which require much more time than is pretended I could have had from
the time I discovered Mr. Sayer; for even from his entry into the house, to the time of
the accident, did not amount, as I am informed, to more than the space of three
minutes. But I did not discover him before the door gave way. I wish it had been my
good fortune, that the jury had applied that to me which your lordship remarked in
favour of the ladies, that the matter was so very sudden, so very accidental and
unexpected, that it was impossible, to be a contrivance and confederacy, and unlikely
that they could come to a resolution in so short a time. I don't remember your lordship
distinguished my case, as to that particular, to be different from theirs, nor was there
room for it; for it is impossible for your lordship to believe that I dreamt of Mr.
Sayer's coming there at that time, but on the contrary I fully proved to your lordship,
that I went there upon another occasion, that was lawful and beneficial to the
deceased; and I had no more time, to think or contrive, than the ladies had to agree or
consent. If any thing could be construed favourably on the behalf of such an
unfortunate wretch as myself, I think the design I had sometime before begun, and
was about finishing that day, might have taken away all suspicion of malice against
Mr. Sayer. Must it be thought, my lord, that I only am such a sinner that I cannot
repent and make reparation to the persons I have injured? It was denied; but I strongly
solicited a reconciliation between Mr. Sayer and his lady, and if this had tended to
procure me an easier access to Mrs. Sayer, it would have been such a matter of
aggravation to me, that it could not have escaped the remark of the counsel against
me, nor the sharpness of the prosecutors present in court; with both I transacted, and
to both I appealed, particularly to Mr. Nott, to whom, but the day before this accident,
I manifested my desire of having them live together again, and therefore, my lord, it
should be presumed I laboured to be reconciled to, and not to revenge myself on, Mr.
Sayer. Your lordship, I hope, will observe thus much in my favour, that it was so far
from being a clear fact, in the opinion of the jury, that they sat up all night, and
believing there was no malice at that time, told your lordship they intended, and were
inclined, to find it manslaughter, and, doubting the legality of the warrant, to find it
special. I hope this will touch your lordship's heart so far, as not to think me so ill a
man as to deserve (what the best of Christians are taught to pray against) a sudden
death!— I confess I am unprepared; the hopes of my being able to make a legal
defence, and my endeavours therein having taken up my time, which I wish I had
better employed; I beg leave to assure your lordship, upon the words of a dying man,
that as none of the indirect practices to get or suppress evidence were proved upon
me, so they never sprang from me: and I can safely say, that my blood, in a great
measure, will lie at their door who did, because it drew me under an ill imputation of
defending myself by subornation of perjury. I would be willing to do my duty towards
my neighbour, as well as God, before I die; I have many papers and concerns (by
reason of my profession) of my clients in my hands, and who will suffer, if they are
not put into some order; and nothing but these two considerations could make life
desirable, under this heavy load of irons, and restless remorse of conscience for my
sins. A short reprieve for these purposes, I hope will be agreeable to your lordship's
humanity and Christian virtue, whereupon your lordship's name shall be blest with my
last breath, for giving me an opportunity of making peace with my conscience and
God Almighty."
The last request that Noble made was granted: he was allowed some time to
settle his spiritual and temporal concerns, and at length suffered at Kingston, on the
28th of March, 1713, exhibiting marks of genuine repentance. As to the women, they
were no sooner acquitted, than they set out for London, taking one of the turnkeys
with them, to protect them from the assaults of the populace, who were incensed in
the highest degree at the singular enormity of their crimes.
DICK ADAMS
Once pretended to be the Bishop of London's Nephew in order to escape
from a Man he had robbed. Executed at Tyburn, 1713
THIS unhappy person, Richard Adams, was born of very good and reputable
parents in Gloucestershire, who bestowed some small matter of education upon him,
as reading, writing and casting of accounts. Coming up to London, he got into the
service of a great duchess at St James's, in which he continued about two years, when
for some misdemeanour quitting his place, he contrived to live by his wits.
Having a general key which opened the lodgings in St James's Palace, he went
one day to a certain mercer's on Ludgate Hill and desired him to send, with all speed,
a parcel of the richest brocades and satins, and other silks, he had in his shop, for his
duchess to make choice of some for an extraordinary occasion. The mercer, knowing
him to have come often upon such a like errand before, presently sent away several
pieces by his man and a porter, and being come to St James's, Dick Adams brought
them up to a door of some of the Royal lodgings, where he ordered them to wait while
he, seemingly, went to acquaint his duchess of their being without. Coming out again,
some short time after, quoth he: "Let's see the pieces presently, for my duchess is just
now at leisure to look on them." So, the mercer's man giving him the whole bundle, he
conveyed it away backwards, and went clear off through St James's Park. The
mercer's man and the porter, having waited two or three hours and received no answer
about their goods, began to make a strict inquiry after them; and finding they were
tricked, were forced to go home much lighter than they went out.
About a month after, Dick Adams, having been drinking somewhat hard in the
city, and forgetting the prank he had played the mercer, came past his house one
afternoon, and he being accidentally standing at the door, and espying his chapman,
presently seized him, saying: "Oh, sir, have I caught you? You are a fine spark indeed
to cheat me out of two hundred pounds' worth of goods; but before I part with you I
believe I shall make you pay dearly for them." Mr Adams was much surprised at his
being so suddenly apprehended, and, without doubt, cursed his fate to himself for
being so forgetful as to come into the very mouth of his adversary; but seeing the late
Bishop of London at some distance riding along in his coach, and having a good
presence of mind at the same time, quoth he to the mercer: "I must acknowledge I
have committed a crime, to which I was forced by mere necessity, but I see my uncle,
the Bishop of London, is coming this way in his coach; therefore, hoping you'll be so
civil as not to raise any hubbub of the mob about me, whereby I shall be exposed and
utterly undone, I'll go speak to his lordship about the matter, if you please to step with
me and I'll engage he shall make you satisfaction for the damage I've done you."
The mercer, liking his proposal, and thinking it far better than sending him to
jail, stepped along with Mr Adams, who boldly called out to the coachman to stop,
approached the side of the coach, and desired the favour of speaking a few words with
the Bishop. His lordship, seeing him have the mien and habit of a gentleman, was
pleased to hear what he had to say; so leaning over his coach door, quoth Adams:
"Begging your lordship's pardon for my presumption, I make bold to acquaint your
honour that the gentleman standing behind me is an eminent mercer, keeping house
just by here, and is a very upright godly man; but being a great reader in books of
divinity, especially polemical pieces, he hath met therein with some intricate cases,
which very much trouble him, and his conscience cannot be at rest till his doubts and
scruples are cleared about them; therefore I humbly request your lordship would
vouchsafe him the honour of giving him some ease before he runs farther to despair."
The Bishop, being ready to serve any person in religious matters, ordered
Adams to bring his friend to him the next day. But said Adams again: "It will be more
satisfactory to him if your lordship would be pleased to speak yourself to the
gentleman to wait upon you." Whereupon his lordship beckoned to the mercer, who
stood some distance off whilst they discoursed together. When he came up to the side
of the coach, quoth the Bishop: "The gentleman has informed me of all the matter
about you, and if you please to give yourself the trouble of coming to my house at
Fulham I will satisfy you then in every point." The mercer, making twenty bows and
cringes, was very well pleased with his security; and taking Adams to the tavern gave
him a very good treat.
Next morning Adams came again to the mercer, who was drawing out his bill
to give to the Bishop, and pretending that his coming in haste to go along with him to
his uncle had made him forget to put money in his breeches, he desired the mercer to
lend him a guinea, and put it down in his bill; which he did very willingly. And then
taking water, away they went to Fulham, where, acquainting the Bishop's gentleman
that according to his lordship's order overnight they were come to wait upon him at
the time appointed, the gentleman introduced them into the hall, and having regaled
them there with a bottle or two of wine and a neat's tongue, the mercer was admitted
into his lordship's presence, and in the meantime Mr Adams made the best of his way
by water again. The mercer being before the Bishop, quoth his lordship: "I understand
that you are, or at leastwise have been, much troubled. How do you find yourself now,
sir?" The mercer replied: "My trouble is much abated since your lordship was pleased
to order me to wait on you." So pulling out a pocket book, he gave his lordship the
following bill:
Mr. Adams's Bill, 20th of April, 1711
L
s.
d.
For a piece of green flowered brocade, containing 23 yards, L1, 9s. per
yard
33
7
0
For a piece of white striped damask, containing 20 yards, at 14s. per yard
18
4
0
For a piece of cloth-of-gold tissue, containing 18 yards, at L4, 15s. per
yard
85
10
0
For a piece of black watered tabby, containing 29 yards, at 4s. 8d. per yard
15
4
For a piece of blue satin, containing 21 yards, at 16s. per yard
16
16
0
For a piece of crimson velvet, containing 17 yards, at L1,
32
6
0
For a piece of yellow silk, containing 25 yards, at 8s. per yard
10
0
0
17th of May. Lent your lordship's nephew
1
1
6
Sum total L
203
19
10
His lordship, staring upon this large bill, quoth: "What is the meaning of all
this? The gentleman last night might very well say your conscience could not be at
rest; and I wonder how it should when you bring a bill to me which I know nothing
of." Said the mercer then, bowing and scraping: "Your lordship last night was pleased
to say that you would satisfy me to day." "Yes," replied his lordship, "and so I would,
as to what the gentleman told me, who said that you, being much troubled about some
points of religion, desired to be resolved therein; and in order thereto, I appointed you
to come to me to-day." "Truly," said the mercer again, "your lordship's nephew told
me otherwise, for he said you would pay me this bill off, which goods, upon my word,
he had of me, and in a very clandestine manner, if I was to tell your lordship all; but
only in respect of your honour I would not disgrace your nephew." Quoth his
lordship: "My nephew! He is none of my nephew. I never, to my knowledge, saw the
gentleman in my life before." Thus when they came to unriddle the matter on both
sides they could not forbear laughing, the Bishop at his nephew, and the mercer for
lending a man who had once cheated him a guinea to cheat him again.
After this Dick Adams got into the Life Guards, but his extravagance not
permitting him to live on his pay, he went on the highway. One day he and some of
his accomplices meeting with a gentleman on the road, took from him a gold watch,
and a purse in which were one hundred and eight guineas. But Adams, not contented
with this booty and seeing that the gentleman whom they robbed had a very fine coat
on, rode a little way back again, and saying to him, "Sir, you have a very good coat
on, I must make bold to change with you," he stripped him of it and put on his. As the
gentleman was riding along after he was robbed, hearing something jingle in the
pocket of the coat which Adams had put on him, felt therein, and, to him great joy,
found his watch and guineas again, which Adam in the hurry and confusion had
forgotten to put into the other coat pocket when he changed coats with the gentleman.
Dick Adams, going out the same day again with his comrades, stopped the Canterbury
stage coach on the road betwixt Rochester and Sittingbourne, in which were several
gentlewomen; and for the last mistake they had made they were very severe and
boisterous upon these passengers. Thus having rifled all the gentlewomen to above the
value of two hundred pounds in money and goods, they left them to proceed on their
journey, with very sorrowful hearts for their sad mischance.
But at last, Dick robbing a man by himself, between London and Brainford,
the person robbed met with his neighbour on the road, who closely pursued this
highwayman. He made a running fight of it, shooting Tartar-like behind him; but they
at last apprehended him, and carried him before a magistrate, who committed him to
Newgate. Though he was very wicked before his affliction fell upon him, yet whilst
he lay under condemnation he was very devout. He was executed at Tyburn, in
March, 1713.
NED WICKS
Highway Robber, executed at Warwick Jail in 1713 for Robbery
EDWARD WICKS was born of very good parents, who kept an inn at
Coventry, and bestowed on him so much education in reading, writing and casting
accounts as qualified him to be a clerk for extraordinary business. He was an
exciseman for about fourteen months; but not thinking that a post sufficient enough to
cheat her Majesty's subjects, he was resolved to impose upon them more, by taking all
they had on the highway. Being well equipped for such enterprises, he travelled the
roads to seek his fortune, and had the good luck to commit two robberies without any
discovery. But the third time, being apprehended for a robbery committed not far from
Croydon, in Surrey, he was sent to the Marshalsea, in Southwark.
However, Wicks was not long under confinement before he obtained his
liberty, by his friends making up the business with his adversary, to whom sixty
guineas were given for taking from him but thirty shillings. Then, running Jehu-like to
his destruction as fast as he could, he kept company with one Joe Johnson, alias
Sanders; with whom going once on the road, they met, between Hounslow and
Colebrook, with a stage-coach, having four gentlemen in it, who, seeing them come
pretty near the coach, and perceiving they had masks on, were apprehensive of their
intention of robbing them; and upon that, to be before-hand with them, one of them
shot Joe Johnson with a brass piece, or blunderbuss, and lodged seven or eight large
shot in his body. Wicks now rode clear off, without any hurt, whilst his comrade was
apprehended, and, on suspicion, sent to Newgate, where he was charged by one Mr
Woolly with robbing him of a silver watch and some money on the highway; for
which he was hanged at Tyburn, on Wednesday the 17th of February, 1705, aged
twenty-two years.
Another time, Wicks meeting with the late Lord M — on the road betwixt
Windsor and Colebrook, attended only with a groom and one footman, he
commanded his lordship to stand and deliver, for he was in great want of money, and
money he would have before they parted. His honour, pretending to have a great deal
of courage, swore he should fight for it then. Wicks very readily accepted the
proposal, and prepared his pistols for an engagement. His lordship, seeing his
resolution, began to hesitate; which his antagonist perceiving, he began to swagger,
saying: "All the world knows me to be a man; and though your lordship was
concerned in the cowardly murdering of M —d, the player, and Captain C —t, yet I'm
not to be frightened at that; therefore down with your gold, or else expect no quarter."
His lordship thus meeting with his match, it put him into such a passionate fit
of swearing that Wicks, not willing to be outdone in any wickedness, said: "My lord, I
perceive you swear perfectly well extempore. Come, I'll give your honour a fair
chance for your money, and that is, he that swears best of us two shall keep his own
and his that loseth." His lordship agreed to that bargain, and threw down a purse of
fifty guineas, which Wicks matched with a like sum. After a quarter of an hour's
swearing most prodigiously on both sides, it was left to my lord's groom to decide the
matter; who said: "Why, indeed, your honour swears as well as ever I heard a person
of quality in my life; but to give the strange gentleman his due, he has won the wager,
if it was for a thousand pounds." Whereupon Wicks took up the gold, gave the groom
a guinea, and rode about his business.
But not long after this, Wicks, being apprehended in London for a robbery
done in Warwickshire, was committed to Newgate; from whence attempting to break
out, he was quickly removed to Warwick jail, where, being tried the next July, he was
condemned to be hanged. His parents made great intercession for this their only child,
but in vain, for he was executed on Saturday, the 29th of August, 1713, aged twenty-
nine years.
JACK SHRIMPTON
Convicted for Murder and Highway Robberies. Executed at St Michael's
Hill in September, 1713
JOHN SHRIMPTON was born of good and reputable parents living at Penns,
near High Wycombe, in Buckinghamshire, who, bestowing so much education upon
him as might qualify him for a tradesman, put him out an apprentice, when he was
between fifteen and sixteen years of age, to a soap-boiler in Little Britain, in London;
but not serving out his apprenticeship there, he was turned over to another soap-boiler
in Ratcliff Highway. When he was out of his time he went into the army, where he
was some time in the troop of horse commanded by Major-General Wood; but, not
finding such preferment as he expected by being a soldier, he came into England and
took to the highway. He did always the most damage betwixt London and Oxford,
insomuch that scarce a coach or horseman could pass him without being robbed.
Some time after committing one robbery, Mr Shrimpton, being in London,
accidentally lit into the company of the common hangman, where he was taking a
glass of wine; and coming to the knowledge of his occupation he asked him this
question "What is the reason, when you perform your office, that you put the knot just
under the ear? For, in my opinion, was you to fix it in the nape of the neck it would be
more easy to the sufferer." The hangman replied: "If one Christian may believe
another, I have hanged a great many in my time, but upon my word, sir, I never had
any complaint as yet. However, if it should be your good luck to make use of me, I
shall, to oblige you, be so civil as to hang you after your own way." But Shrimpton,
not approving of the hangman's civility, told him that he desired none of his favours,
because they generally proved of a very dangerous consequence.
Another time, Jack Shrimpton, who also called himself Parker, meeting a
couple of bailiffs beyond Wycombe carrying a poor farmer to jail, desired to know
what the debt might be; and being told six pounds odd money, he requested them to
go with him to the next ale-house and he would pay it. They went along with him,
where, taking a bond of the farmer, whom he knew very well, he paid the bailiffs their
prisoner's debts and fees, and then parted. But Jack Shrimpton, waylaying the bailiffs,
had no more mercy on them than they had on the farmer, for he took away what
money he paid them, and about forty shillings besides; after which he rode back again
to the farmer and, regaling him with a treat of a guinea, cancelled his bond, and then
went in pursuit of new adventures.
A little while after, Shrimpton, travelling on the road, met with a poor miller
who was going to turn highwayman himself. Thus roving along, and meeting (as
above said) with Shrimpton, he held up an oaken plant, for he had no other arms, and
bade him stand, thinking that word was sufficient to scare any man out of his money.
Shrimpton, perceiving the simplicity of the fellow, fired a pistol at him, which
(though he purposely missed him) put our new robber into such an agony that he
surrendered himself to Shrimpton's mercy; who presently said: "Surely, friend, thou
art but a young highwayman, or else you would have knocked me down first and bade
me stand afterwards." The poor miller told him his misfortunes; on which Shrimpton
took some compassion, and quoth he: "I am a highwayman myself, and am now
waiting on this road for a certain neighbour of yours, who I expect will come this way
by and by with six-score pounds; therefore if you will be assisting in the robbery of
him, you shall have half the booty." The miller was very thankful for this kind offer,
and resolved to stand by him to the very utmost. Then Shrimpton, having told him
again that it was not long since he had robbed one of his neighbours of one hundred
and fifty pounds, further said: "Honest friend, whilst I ride this way, you go that way,
and if you should meet him whom I have told you of, be sure to knock him down and
take all he has from him, without telling him why or wherefore; and in case I should
meet him, I'll serve him with the same sauce."
They both separated, and went in search of their prey, till at last, upon the
joining of two roads, they met together again. Shrimpton, wondering why the person
he wanted did not yet come, ordered the miller to follow him still, saying: "Without
doubt we shall catch the old cuff anon." But as he was thus encouraging his new
companion, who was just at his horse's heels, he took up his stick and gave Shrimpton
such a smart blow betwixt neck and shoulders that he felled him to the ground; being
then able to deal with him, he robbed him of about fourscore guineas, and bade him
go quietly about his business, or otherwise he would have him hanged, according to
his own confession, for lately robbing his neighbour. Thus the biter was bitten; but
Shrimpton swore he would never more take upon him to teach strangers how to rob on
the highway.
This notorious malefactor pursued his wicked courses a long while, till at last,
being in Bristol, where he resided for some months, he was drinking one night very
late at a bawdy-house in St James's Churchyard, when a watch-man, going his rounds,
and hearing a great noise of swearing and cursing in the house, compelled Shrimpton
to go along with him to the watch-house. As they were going together through Wine
Street he shot the watch-man through the body and flung his pistol away, that it might
not be found; but some men, happening to go by at the same time, apprehended
Shrimpton, and the watch-man dying on the spot, they secured him till morning,
when, carrying him before a magistrate, he was committed to Newgate, in Bristol,
where he behaved himself very audaciously.
At length, being brought to a trial, he was convicted not only for wilful murder
but also for five robberies on the highway. When he came to the place of execution at
St Michael's Hill he was turned off without showing any signs of repentance, on
Friday, the 4th of September, 1713.
WILL LOWTHER
Executed on Clerkenwell Green for the Murder of Edward Perry, December,
1713
THIS offender was born at Whitehaven, in Cumberland, and from his youth
brought up at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in Northumberland. He had used the sea for
almost ten years, and once was (for a little while) master of a small collier, given him
by his father, trading between Newcastle and London, where, becoming acquainted
with ill company, and losing his little vessel one night at play, he soon learned the
most enormous vices of the town, and became as bad as his companions, in going
very frequently upon the water-pad, or robbing ships as they lay at anchor in the River
Thames.
Once Lowther, meeting a great virtuoso belonging to the Royal Society taking
a serious walk in the fields near Paddington, to meditate on the stupendous works of
nature, made bold to make him stand till he took twenty-eight guineas from him.
Not long after this Lowther met with a sad mischance, for going one day to an
ale-house in Covent Garden, at Christmas time, where a box was put up by the
servants in one of the back rooms in which he was drinking for customers to put what
they pleased into it, he, being by himself, heated the poker red-hot, and went to
unsolder the box as fast as he could, which was filled with gunpowder, by reason two
or three boxes had been so opened before, and the money taken out. As soon as the
heat of the poker came to the powder, up flew the box, out fell the money, and the
noise thereof giving a loud report, the servants went presently into the room, where
they found Lowther frightened almost out of his wits, with his wig blazing about his
ears, his neck-cloth all on fire, and his face most sadly burned. However, not pitying
his mortified condition, they were for carrying him before a magistrate, but making
the matter up, by paying the servants three pounds ten shillings, he was discharged of
getting box-money off people without asking them for it, and went about his business.
Lowther, having once stolen a black pudding in Clare Market and clapped it
into his bosom, stepped, as he was going along, into Daniel Burge's meeting-house,
where he placed himself opposite to that reverend don, who was very piously
delivering a lecture to his zealous congregation, and who in the midst of his eloquent
discourse, looking wistly towards Lowther, said: "Thou man! fling that black sin out
of thy bosom." Lowther having a guilty conscience, and really thinking the teacher
had spoken to him, flung it at his head, saying: "And be poxed to you. I had but one
black pudding, and you are so unconscionable as to desire it of me." Which
transaction put the auditors into a sort of a surprise, as well as the doctor.
Another time Lowther, having stolen a watch, was committed to Newgate,
where compounding the felony, he then escaped the severity of the law and procured
his liberty. But Lowther not performing his agreement, his adversary sent him to one
of the compters, where he was removed by a habeas to Newgate. Here he first became
acquainted with Dick Keele, with whom, after they had got their liberty, he went a-
thieving, till being sent to Clerkenwell Bridewell, they there bred a riot, in which
Edward Perry, a servant to Mr Boreman, the keeper, was killed. For this fact both
these malefactors received sentence of death, and were executed together on
Wednesday, the 23rd of December, 1713, Lowther being twenty-three years of age.
RODERICK AUDREY
With the Assistance of a Sparrow he committed many Robberies, and was
executed at Tyburn in 1714 at the age of Sixteen
THIS malefactor was so dexterous in thieving that he seemed to have come an
acute villain into the world. He could scarcely speak plain when he began to practise
the taking of what was not his own; and so improved himself in the art and mystery of
thieving that he was hanged a little after he had turned his teens. He would go to
Chelsea, or Hampstead, or Bow, or Lambeth — east, west, north or south — for he
was never out of his road, and, carrying a sparrow along with him, would play about a
house where he saw a sideboard of plate in the parlour, or any other movable,
teaching the bird to climb the ladder or fly to hat. If the sashes were open, or the street
door, he would throw in his sparrow, then, following to catch it again, would steal
away the plate, and leave the sparrow to answer for his master's conduct. But if he
was seen by anybody in the house before he had finished his work, it was a very
plausible pretence that his design was no other than running after his bird, as honest
children will do in such cases.
Whenever his money was gone he went upon fresh exploits, till all the country
towns and villages within ten miles of London were sensible that the boy who played
with the sparrow was a thief. Yet though he was often sent to New Prison and the
Gatehouse at Westminster, the justices took so much pity on his tender years as not to
commit him to Newgate, for fear of his being spoiled, though he was already spoiled
to their hands. This favour still encouraged Roderick in his villainy, till at last he was
committed to Newgate, whither he went twenty times afterwards, and being tried
upon a matter of petty larceny, for which the jury found him guilty of tenpence, he
flung from the bar a shilling to the judge, desiring his Lordship to give him twopence
for his change; which piece of impudence caused him to be so well flogged that he
never valued whipping at the cart's tail ever after.
As he was one day, about dinner time, walking with another through Soho
Square, espying a great parcel of plate in a remote room of a person of quality's house,
his mouth so watered at the glittering sight that he could not pass by it with a safe
conscience; and holding counsel with his comrade about it, he thought it impracticable
to attempt the taking of it. However, young Audrey would not acquiesce to his
opinion: have it he would. So desiring his faint hearted comrade, who wore a green
apron, to lend it him, he presently steps to an oil shop, buys two or three balls of
whiting, returns to the house he was resolved to attack, and, getting upon the rails,
falls to cleaning the windows with the whiting and a foul handkerchief with as good
an assurance as if he had been the butler, or some other servant belonging to the
family. He was mighty handy about his work, lifting the sashes up and down, and
going in and out to clean them without any suspicion of people going by, who could
have no mistrust of his not dwelling there; till at last he cleaned the sideboard of all
the plate, which he brought away in his apron, to the value of eighty pounds.
After stealing a box, and plate, and money out of a house in Red Lion Square,
he was taken in the fact, and committed to Newgate; and when brought on his trial for
the same was burned in the hand, and ordered to hard labour for two years in
Bridewell in Clerkenwell. Here he had not been above six months of his time before
Richard Keele, William Lowther and Charles Houghton were also committed for two
years, and being shown by young Audrey where the keeper's arms were, the three
abovesaid persons attempted to break into the room where they lay, but were
prevented in their design. Nevertheless they made a riot, in which Charles Houghton
was killed on the spot, Keele lost one of his eyes, and Lowther was desperately
wounded in the back. On the keeper's side, one Perry, his turnkey, and sutler to the
prison, was stabbed through the heart with a penknife. Whilst this engagement lasted,
young Audrey broke into the deceased turnkey's chamber, from whence he stole
twenty pounds, and then found a way to break out of Bridewell, making way also for
eighteen or twenty more, who followed their leader; but were as soon retaken, except
him, who skulked about four or five months before he was apprehended, and that
upon acting a fresh piece of villainy. Being now committed to Newgate for his last
time, his thoughts were employed how to break out there too, using some few
stratagems, but he was unsuccessful in all his attempts.
When he came before the bench again they knew him very well by his
impudence, of which he had a good stock; and being found guilty of stealing, after his
late breaking out of Bridewell, a great quantity of plate, sentence of death was passed
on him. He owned the sentence passed upon him was just, and confessed above a
hundred robberies in particular that he had committed, besides acknowledging his
commission of as many more, which he could not call to mind where. What he stole
was (as above said) plate and money, to the value of two thousand pounds at times;
but so profuse had he been with it that he had scarce money enough to buy a coffin.
At last the fatal day came, in the year 1714, when he was to go from hence and
be no more seen. Being conveyed in a cart, unpitied by all honest people, to Tyburn,
he seemed very loath to die; but no reprieve coming, which he expected to the last, in
consideration of his youth, he departed to the tune of a penitential psalm, being no
more than sixteen years of age. We must needs say he went very decently to the
gallows, being in a white waistcoat, clean napkin, white gloves, and having an orange
in one hand.
MACCARTNEY
Hanged at Gloucester Jail in April, 1714, for the Murder of one Mr
Beachere
MACCARTNEY being left to the wide world, and knowing not what course
to take for a livelihood, being no scholar, nor brought up to any trade, turned thief at
once, being so light-fingered that anything was his own which lay within his reach.
He was a notable house-breaker, and had done many exploits that way; but his
greatest was in breaking open the house of Sir Thomas Rochford, Lord Chief Baron of
the Exchequer, in the kingdom of Ireland, whom he and his comrades bound, with his
lady, back to back, like a spread eagle, and all the men and women servants in the
house after the same manner, without either shirt or smock upon them; then breaking
open all trunks, cabinets, escritoires and chests of drawers, they took what plate and
money they could find, to the value of fourteen hundred pounds.
After committing this notorious robbery, his country being too hot to hold
him, he fled into Scotland, where, breaking open a stable belonging to Sir James
Steward, then her Majesty's advocate for that kingdom, and stealing thence a horse
and saddle, he came into England and turned highwayman. Being pretty lucky in his
roguery, he always maintained himself in clothes; so that the handsome appearance
which he made in his habit, with his fawning, cringing and flattering way, had brought
him to be acquainted with several creditable gentlemen, to whom he pretended he had
a very good estate in Ireland. One day Maccartney, with another rogue as good as
himself, meeting in the Strand one Mr Vaughan, a Welsh gentleman, having about
four hundred pounds per annum in Pembrokeshire, invited him to drink a pint of wine;
and, going together to a tavern, whilst they were regaling themselves over a glass of
claret, quoth Maccartney to his comrade: "I vow this is a fine day; we'll e'en ride both
of us out this afternoon." Said Mr Vaughan (not in the least mistrusting they were
highwaymen): "If I had a horse I would ride out with you too, gentlemen." Quoth
Maccartney: "I'll help you to a horse, sir." And being as good as his word, they all
three rode towards Romford, beyond which place, about a mile, meeting a coach full
of passengers, Maccartney and his comrade set upon it.
Whilst they were robbing them, quoth the Welsh gentleman to himself: "I'll
not stand idle; I'll e'en be doing something too." So perceiving another coach at a little
distance behind that which the others had attacked, and in which was only one
gentleman, with his footman behind, he made up to it, and commanding the coachman
to stop, he robbed the gentleman of five guineas in gold and forty shillings in silver,
and rode off.
Shortly after, going to Bristol, one Mr Beachere of Wiltshire also went down
to that city in order to go to Ireland, where he unhappily fell into company with
Maccartney, who was likewise going to that kingdom. In the morning, after their short
acquaintance overnight, Maccartney calling up the aforesaid Beachere to go down to
the Pill to embark, when he was on Durham Down, a mile without the city, this Irish
rogue knocked him down and with a razor cut his throat from ear to ear, and then
passed over into Wales, and designed for Holyhead. But messengers being sent into
Wales to inquire at all the ports, heard of, pursued and took him in Brecknockshire,
with Beachere's clothes and bloody shirt. He was then committed to Gloucester Jail;
and being convicted for this murder and robbery, he was there executed, on
Wednesday, 7th of April, 1714, aged twenty-three years, and was afterwards hanged
in chains on Durham Down.
WILL OGDEN AND TOM REYNOLDS
Housebreakers and Highwaymen. Executed at Kingston- upon-Thames in
April, 1714
THE first of these villains was born in Walnut-Tree Alley, in Tooley Street, in
Southwark, being a water- man by his calling; and the other was born in Cross-Key
Alley, in Barnaby Street, being apprentice to a dung-bargeman living between
Vauxhall and the Nine Elms; but running away from his master before he had served
his time, and taking ill courses with Ogden, they first robbed several ships, hoys and
other vessels below bridge, for above two years, when, being very like to have been
once apprehended for this sort of theft, they left it off and took to housebreaking.
Several houses they had broken open and robbed in and about the borough of
Southwark. But at last being apprehended for breaking open a watchmaker's shop in
the City of London, and stealing from thence twenty-six watches, in company with
another rogue who made himself an evidence against them, they were committed to
Newgate and condemned; however they both had the good fortune to be reprieved,
and in August, 1713, pleaded her Majesty's most gracious pardon, after which they
obtained their liberty.
Nevertheless, these hardened rogues, not making good use of that mercy
which they had received, turned foot-pads, and one of them — namely, Ogden —
meeting one night, when the moon was up, with a parson who lived at Peckham,
pretending to be a seaman out of all business and in great distress, humbly begged an
alms of him; whereupon the parson, taking compassion on the dismal story gave him
sixpence, and so they parted. The parson had not gone above the length of a field
before Ogden met again going over a stile, and begging his charity again, quoth the
gentleman: "You are the most impudent beggar that ever I have met with." Ogden
then telling him that he was in very great want, and that the sixpence which he gave
him would not relieve his pressing necessities, he gave him half- a-crown; whereupon
Ogden said: "These are very sad times, for there's horrid robbing abroad; therefore if
you have any money about you, you may as well let me have it as another, who
perhaps may abuse you and, binding you hand and foot, make you lie in the cold all
night; but if you'll give me your money, I'll take care of you, and conduct you very
safe home."
The parson then gave him all his money, which was about forty shillings.
Quoth Ogden: "I see you have a watch, sir; you may as well let me have that too." The
parson gave him that also. As they were trudging along, out came two or three fellows
upon them; but on Ogden crying, "The moon shines bright," they let them pass
quietly; and shortly after two or three other fellows came suddenly on, to whom also
Ogden cried, "The moon shines bright," and they also permitted them to pass by. At
last Ogden brought the parson to his door, where the parson invited him to walk in,
with a promise that he would not hurt a hair of his head on any account; but Ogden
refusing the parson's proffer, he called for a bottle of wine, and drank to Ogden, to
whom he gave the bottle and glass to help himself. But he ran away with them, saying
he would carry the wine to those who should certainly drink his health.
Another time Ogden and Reynolds, in company with one John Bradshaw —
who was grandson of that infamous villain, Serjeant Bradshaw, who passed sentence
on King Charles I. to be beheaded — were watching for a prey in a wood near
Shooter's Hill, in Kent, when one Cecilia Fowley, a servant- wench, just come out of
service, happened to be passing by with a box on her head. Jack Bradshaw went up to
her by himself, being, as he thought, sufficient enough to deal with her, and took her
box from her, in which were her clothes and fifteen shillings in money, which she had
received for a quarter's wages. Whilst he was rifling it, after he had broken it open, a
hammer being therein, she took it up and struck him on the left temple with it, the
blow felling him to the ground, on his back. She then seconded it with the claw of the
hammer, by striking it into his windpipe, of which wound the rogue instantly died.
Then a gentleman carried the maid before a magistrate, where he was bound for her
appearance at the assizes held at Rochester in March, 1714, when she came there to
take her trial, and was acquitted.
Ogden and Reynolds, pursuing their wicked courses without any fear of the
laws either of God or man, were at last apprehended for robbing one Simon Hasey
and one John Boyout, committed to the Marshalsea Prison, in Southwark, and hanged,
the first aged twenty-five years, the other twenty-two, at Kingston-upon-Thames, on
Saturday, the 23rd of April, 1714.
Whilst they were under sentence of death they attempted to break out of the
stock-house, in which they were confined at Kingston; and as they were riding to the
place of execution, Ogden flung a handful of money out of the cart to the people,
saying: "Gentlemen, here is poor Will's farewell." And when he was being turned off
he gave two extraordinary jerks with his legs, which was much admired by all the
spectators.
HENRY PLUNKET
Murderer, executed at Tyburn, on the 22nd of September, 1714.
IN the case of this gentleman, we have a shocking instance of the danger into
which our passions lead us. A more unprovoked murder we cannot record. Mr.
Plunket was a foreigner, born at Saar-Lewis, in the dutchy of Lorraine, and was the
son of an Irish gentleman, who held the rank of colonel in the French service, and was
related to Father Plunket, a priest, who was called the Primate of Ireland, and came to
a fatal end in the year 1679. Young Plunket was made a lieutenant when he was only
ten years of age, and served under his father in Flanders, Germany, and Italy. He was
remarkably distinguished for his courage, having never exhibited the least sign of fear
in all the engagements in which he was concerned.
Having been a while at Ostend, he came over to England with a gentleman
named Reynard, having fled from that place on account of having murdered a man.
He was indicted at the Old Bailey, for the murder of Thomas Brown, by
cutting his throat with a razor, on the 50th of August, 1714.
It appeared in the course of the evidence, that the prisoner lodged in the, parish
of St. Anne, Soho, in the same house with the deceased, who being a peruke-maker by
trade, Plunket bespoke a wig of him, which Brown finished, and asked seven pounds
for it, but at length lowered his demand to six: Plunket bid him four pounds for it, but
was so enraged at what he thought an exorbitant price, that he took up a razor, cut his
throat, and then made his escape, but was apprehended on the following day.
As soon as the horrid deed was perpetrated, Brown came down stairs in a
bloody condition, holding his hands to his throat, on which a surgeon was sent for,
who dressed dressed his wounds, and gave him some cordials, by which he was so far
recovered as to be able to describe the prisoner, who, he said, stood behind him,
pulled back his head, and cut him twice on the throat.
It was proved that a sword and a pair of gloves belonging to the prisoner were
found on a bed in the room where Brown was murdered; and Plunket having nothing
material to urge in his defence, was found guilty, received sentence of death, and was
executed at Tyburn, on the 22d of September, 1714.
He professed to die a Roman Catholic; and it was with the utmost difficulty
that he was brought to confess the justice of the sentence in consequence of which he
suffered.
[Note: It must be remembered, that at the commencement of the last century,
when this foul deed was committed, young gentlemen wore enormous wigs. A
hundred years reconciled them to their own hair, and the ladies alone now appear in
wigs.]
WILLIAM JOHNSON AND JANE HOUSDEN
Executed in September, 1714, for the Murder of a Turnkey in the Court at
the Old Bailey
Johnson murdering the turnkey
WILLIAM JOHNSON was a native of Northamptonshire, where he served his
time as 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 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 on 19th of
September, 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 hanged in chains near
Holloway, between Islington and Highgate.
THOMAS DOUGLASS
Murderer, executed at Tyburn on the 27th of October, 1714.
This conviction presents another instance of the mischief ensuing from
drunkenness, which the law, so far from admitting as a palliation, as this unhappy man
conceived, considers an aggravation of the crime.
Thomas Douglass was indicted at the Old Bailey, for the murder of William
Sparks, a seaman, at a public-house in Wapping.
He was born in the county of Berwick, in Scotland, and having been educated
by his parents according to the strictly religious plan prevailing in that country, he was
bound apprentice to a sea-faring person at Berwick, and when he was out of his time,
he entered on board a ship in the royal navy; and in this station acquired the character
of an expert and valiant seaman.
Having served Queen Anne during several engagements in the Mediterranean
and other seas, he returned to England with Sparks, who was his shipmate, on whom
he committed the murder we have mentioned.
It appeared in the course of the evidence, that the parties had been drinking
together, till they were inflamed with liquor, when the prisoner took up a knife, and
stabbed the other in such a manner, that he died on the spot. The atrociousness of the
offence was such, that Douglass was immediately taken into custody, and being
convicted on the clearest evidence, received sentence of death.
After conviction, it was a difficult matter to make Douglass sensible of the
enormity of the crime that he had committed; for he supposed that, as he was drunk
when he perpetrated the fact, he ought to be considered in the same light as a man
who is a lunatic. He suffered at Tyburn, on the 27th of October, 1714, and died a
penitent.
WILL CHANCE
Robbed his Uncle by Forgery, and then turned Footpad. Was executed at
Tyburn in April, 1715
WILLIAM CHANCE was born of mean parents, near Colchester, in Essex, by
whom he had not the least learning at all bestowed upon him, though he was from his
very infancy a child who showed a promising genius.
When he came to be about sixteen years of age he was put out apprentice by
the parish to a weaver, where he was so unlucky that at the end of three years his
master gave him his indentures and sent him packing; when, to support himself, he
took to thieving.
Surprising Sir Jonathan Thornicroft, Bart., he unawares knocked him off his
horse and rifled him of a diamond ring worth one hundred and twenty pounds, a gold
watch worth fifty pounds, and two hundred and ninety guineas. A great noise of this
robbery being made all over the country, with the promise of a reward of one hundred
pounds for any who could discover this bold robber, Will fled to a rich uncle's at
Thetford, to lie there incognito till this hubbub was all over. His uncle was a grazier,
who caressed and received him with all the tokens of respect that could possibly be
shown a near relation. While he was here he bargained with his uncle for twenty oxen,
signing an obligation for the money, which he promised to pay within a month or two;
then taking leave of his uncle, he hired one to drive the oxen to Norwich. After two or
three months had expired, the old gentleman, not hearing from him, turned to his
writings, where he found the nest, but the birds flown; for Will had tempered the ink
with saltpetre and other corrosive ingredients which eat through the paper. This
startled the old man so, that he suddenly took pen in hand and wrote a very severe
letter to his kinsman, threatening him with a course of law.
He pretended to be greatly concerned at the matter, and summoned his uncle
to appear at the assizes at Norwich, having in the meantime suborned a false witness
or two to give evidence to a forged paper wherein his uncle was found to confess
himself indebted to his father in the sum of six hundred pounds, payable, in case of
his decease, to this his unlucky son. The usual hand and mark of the uncle were
artificially counterfeited with a different ink from the body of the obligation, both
tempered with soot to make them seem of such standing as the date would require.
Besides this, he had also forged a certain discharge, the tenor whereof was that he had
received twenty oxen for two hundred pounds of the said six hundred.
This acquittance was cunningly sealed up and sent to a countryman near
Colchester, whom he had also hired to be an assistant; and he delivered it to the uncle
in the presence of the Court. Will, as soon as he saw him begin to open it, prayed the
Court to examine his papers, which they did, and the discharge made so much for him
that judgment was passed in his favour, and the defendant constrained not only to
renounce his pretence but also condemned to pay the remainder of the sum that was
mentioned in the obligation, which was four hundred pounds.
At last, having exhausted all his ill gotten money, Will betook himself to
housebreaking, for which he had been twice committed to Newgate and tried at the
Old Bailey, but had the good luck to escape hanging because the witnesses were
defective in their evidence. This success in his roguery did so harden him that there
was scarce a jail throughout London but what he was more than once a tenant in. He
was once condemned at Hertford Assizes as a footpad, but his time not being yet
come he was reprieved, and after an imprisonment of two years and a half he pleaded
his pardon granted by Queen Anne, and obtained his liberty once more. But not
making good use of his freedom, and the Royal mercy he received, he pursued his old
courses and went upon the footpad, till he and another, being apprehended for robbing
a gentleman near Paddington of a silver-hilted sword and forty-two shillings in
money, were committed to Newgate, where, his comrade making himself an evidence
to secure his own neck, Will was convicted, and received sentence of death.
Whilst he was in the condemned hold he was at first very profligate, swearing,
cursing, drinking, singing and dancing, to the great hindrance of the other condemned
malefactors from their devotion. But when the death warrant was brought to the lodge
of Newgate his countenance changed at the fatal news, and he began to employ the
little time he was to live in serious meditation of his approaching end, which was on
Wednesday, the 21st of April, 1715, when he was hanged at Tyburn, aged thirty five
years.
NATHANIEL PARKHURST, ESQ.
Executed for the Murder of Lewis Pleura, 20th May, 1715
IT is somewhat singular that, in our search of the ancient records of crimes and
punishments, we should find, in chronological order, two murders, stimulated by the
fumes of intoxication. Of this disgraceful practice — of itself a sin — we could give a
long lecture; but let these dreadful consequences operate as a caution to drunkards.
Mr. Parkhurst was indicted at the Old Bailey, for the murder of Lewis Pleura,
on the 3rd of March, 1715; and a second time indicted on the statute of stabbing;
when the substance of the evidence given against him ws as follows:
He was a native of the village of Catesby, near Daventry, in
Northamptonshire, and was the son of very respectable parents, who, having given
him the education common in a country academy, sent him to finish his studies at
Wadham College, in Oxford; but, associating himself with men of an atheistical turn
of mind, they employed themselves in ridiculing religion, and making a jest of the
scriptures, and every thing that was held sacred.
Lewis Pleura, who was born in Italy, had taken upon himself the title of count,
and subsisted by the practice of gaming, till, being greatly reduced in circumstances,
he was obliged to take refuge in the Fleet prison, where he became acquainted with
Mr. Parkhurst.
Parkhurst, and the deceased Lewis Pleura, having been fellow-prisoners in the
Fleet for debt, the former, who had sat up drinking till three o'clock in the morning,
went into a room adjoining that of Mr. Pleura, and said, "Damn you, Sir Lewis, where
are you?" but, finding he had mistaken the room, he went into the right chamber, and
said, "Damn you, Sir Lewis, pay me four guineas you owe me." Soon after this the cry
of murder was heard; when a number of people, repairing to the place, found Pleura
weltering in his blood on the floor, and Parkhurst over him with his sword, who had
stabbed him in nearly twenty places.
A surgeon was immediately sent for, who dressed the deceased, and put him to
bed; and, as soon as he recovered the use of his speech, he declared that Parkhurst had
assassinated him. Parkhurst, being taken out of the room, went back again to it, and
said, "Damn you, Pleura, are you not dead yet?"
In answer to this evidence against him, he said that he was ignorant of having
committed the crime, and for two years and a half past had been in a very unhappy
state of mind; and several witnesses were called to prove that he had done many
things which seemed to intimate that he was a lunatic; but, on the contrary, other
evidence deposed that, not long before the murder happened, he had taken such steps
towards obtaining his liberty as proved that he was in the full use of his intellectual
faculties. Upon the whole, therefore, the jury found him guilty.
Soon after this offender had received sentence of death, he began to see the
error of those opinions he had imbibed, and acknowledged the truth of that religion he
had ridiculed, and felt the force of its divine precepts. He confessed that the dissolute
course of life which he had led had wasted his substance, weakened his intellectual
faculties, and disturbed his mind to such a degree, that, before he committed the
murder for which he suffered, he had resolved to kill some person or other, and make
his escape from the Fleet prison, or, if he should be unable to effect this, he intended
to have been guilty of suicide.
It is very remarkable of this malefactor, that, on the morning of execution, he
ordered a fowl to be prepared for his breakfast, of which he seemed to eat with a good
ap petite, and drank a pint of liquor with it.
How men can indulge even the idea of feasting, a moment, as it were, before
they know a disgraceful death must happen, is truly astonishing! Lord Lovat ordered
his favourite dish to be cooked, and thereof ate greedily, just before his head was
severed from his body.
At the place of execution he addressed himself to the populace, intimating
that, since he had been ill of the small-pox, about twenty years before, his head had
been affected to such a degree that he was never able to speak long at a time:
wherefore he said no more, only earnestly requested their prayers for his departing
soul.
He was executed at Tyburn on the twentieth of May, 1715, in the thirty-ninth
year of his age.
Mr. Parkhurst seems to have owed his destruction to his association with men
of libertine principles — men who derided religion, and scoffed at holy things. We
may safely conclude that there is not such a being in the world as an atheist who can
be happy. The man who denies the existence of that God in whom he lives, moves,
and has his being, must be extremely wretched in this world, while he is preparing for
an eternity of wretchedness in the next.
On the contrary, the man who has a firm faith in the important and all-cheering
doctrines of Christianity will go through the various scenes of his life with a serene
composure of mind; he will, as far as lies within his power, discharge his duty to God
and man, and meet the moment of dissolution in the fullest confidence that his final
salvation will be perfected through the merits of that Saviour in whom he has trusted.
After the expulsion of Adam from Paradise, Cain stands the first notorious
example on record of the sin of murder; a crime of so enormous a magnitude, that no
language can be found in which to express its malignity. The murderer assumes to
himself the privilege of Heaven, and presumes to stop the breath of his fellow-
creatures at his own pleasure, and to hurry him into eternity "with all his
imperfections on his head."
Let those whom the turbulence of their passions may tempt only to think of
committing murder reflect that there is a just God who judgeth the earth, and that all
our most secret actions will be brought to light.
ZACHARY CLARE
Highwayman, who was captured after a Fight, and executed with James
Lawrence in August, 1715, at Warwick Jail
ZACHARY CLARE was a baker's son, born at Hackney, and by his father
bred up to his trade; but becoming acquainted with Ned Bonnet, who taught him the
trade of robbing on the highway, they practised it together with good success for three
or four years in the counties of Hertford and Cambridge, and became such a terror to
the people of the Isle of Ely that they durst hardly stir out far from home, unless they
were half a dozen or half a score in a body together. But at length, Clare, being
apprehended while robbing one day by himself, to save his own neck made himself an
evidence against Ned Bonnet, who, being apprehended, was committed to Newgate,
from whence he was conveyed to Cambridge, and there hanged, as before related.
One would think that the untimely end of his companion would have
reclaimed him, but instead of being reformed he withdrew himself again from under
his father's tuition and took to his old courses, with a resolution of never leaving them
off till he was hanged too. However, dreading a halter, he was resolved to rob by
stratagem; and accordingly, one afternoon, riding over Bagshot Heath, he falls to
blowing of a horn, just as if he had been a post, whereupon three or four gentlemen
then on the road gave him the way, as is usual in such cases, and being not rightly
acquainted with the place where they were they made what haste they could after him
for a guide, promising to give him some thing for conducting them to such a town.
Clare accepted their civility, and being now upon the middle of the aforesaid heath,
where was a lone house upon the side of the road, pretending to be thirsty, he craved
the favour of the gentlemen to bestow a little drink upon him, withal saying there was
a cup of very good liquor. They acquiesced to his request and rode up to the house,
where a couple of his companions were planted, ready mounted, who attacked the
gentlemen with sword and pistol with such fury that after a short resistance they
obliged them to pay their postman about two hundred and thirty pounds for safely
conducting them into their clutches.
Shortly after this adventure, being through his extravagance destitute of a
horse, pistols and accoutrements fitting for a gentleman thief, he put himself into the
disguise of a porter, with an old frock on his back, leather breeches, a broad belt about
his middle, a hiving hat on his head, a knot on his shoulders, a small cord (an emblem
of what would be his fate) at his side, and a sham ticket hanging at his girdle; then,
going up and down the streets to see how fortune might favour his designs, it was his
good luck one evening to go through Lombard Street when a gentleman was scaling
up a couple of hundred pound bags. He took the advantage to walk by just as the
aforesaid gentleman came to the door, where, calling for a porter, he plied him, and
the money was delivered to him to carry, along with the gentleman, to one Squire
Macklethwait's, living near Red Lion Square. But Zachary Clare, being tired of his
burden, turned up St Martin's le Grand, and made the best of his way to lighten
himself as soon as he could of his load. Clare, being thus recruited, soon
metamorphosed his porter's habit into that of a gentleman's; and from a man of
carriage transformed himself into an absolute highway man again. One of his consorts
bought him a good horse in West Smithfield, whilst another bought pistols and other
materials requisite for a person who lives by the words "Stand and deliver."
Being thus equipped he bade London adieu for ever, for it was the last time he
ever saw it. His progress now was towards the West of England, where he and his
associates robbed the Welsh drovers and several wagons, besides coaches; insomuch
that they were a dread and terror to all those parts which border upon Wales. But
staying there, till the country was too hot for them they steered their course into
Warwickshire, where they committed several robberies with very good success, till
one day Zachary Clare, and only one more in company with him, going to give their
horses a breathing upon Dunmore Heath, attacked Sir Humphrey Jennison and his
lady in their coach, who had then above one thousand, one hundred pounds in the seat
of it, and the knight, being unwilling to lose it, came out to give them battle. An
engagement began betwixt the highwayman and Sir Humphrey, one of whose two
footmen was wounded in the arm, and the other had his horse shot in the buttock. But
still Sir Humphrey's courage was not quelled; he maintained the fight more vigorously
with what pistols he had till the coachman, discharging a blunderbuss, shot Zachary's
horse dead on the spot, and himself in the foot. His comrade seeing him dismounted,
and wounded into the bargain, fled as fast as he could. Clare was now taken, and Sir
Humphrey, mounting his footman's horse which was not wounded, pursued James
Lawrence, the highwayman who had left Clare in the lurch, and took him. Then, tying
them behind one another, they were brought into Warwick, and being examined
before a magistrate, committed to jail. Now being in close confinement, they made
several attempts to break open the prison, and in order thereto they had file, chisels,
ropes and aqua fortis to facilitate their escape. But being detected by one of their
fellow prisoners they were loaded with the heaviest irons the jail afforded, and were
also stapled down to the floor; under which strict restraint they continued for above
four months, when, the assizes coming on, they were both brought to a trial, having a
great number of indictments exhibited against them, to the great surprise of the whole
Court, who tried them upon no less than ten, of every one of which the jury found
them guilty.
Being condemned, they were remanded back to jail again, and secured in a
dark dungeon underground, where, instead of preparing for their latter end, they did
nothing but sing, swear, play at cards and get drunk from morning till night.
They miserably ended their lives in August, 1715, the first of them aged thirty-
two, and the other twenty six.
THE FIRST REBELLION IN SCOTLAND.
Account of the rise and progress of the rebellion in Scotland, 1715; With full
accounts of the principal traitors who were executed.
WE are now arrived at a very memorable period of the history of England.
Neither the abdication of the throne by King James II. nor his defeat by King William
III. at the battle of the Boyne, in Ireland, were admitted by the adherents of the family
of Stuart, to bar their right to the crown. On the accession of George I. this question
was in secret agitated with much warmth; when the earl of Mar, a Scotch nobleman of
great popularity, and secretly a friend to the royal stock of his own country,
determined upon the attempt to dethrone the king, and to overthrow the constitution.
This nobleman was farther stimulated to attempt this dangerous measure, from being
on the accession of the king, deprived of some offices which he held under the Tory
ministry of Queen Anne; although, had he been permitted to retain them after the
change of measures which then took place, this rebellion might not have broken out.
When the earl found he was deprived of all share in the new government, he, in
revenge, retired to Scotland, where be immediately began to tamper with such lords as
possessed influence among the people, and found they wanted only a leader to set up
the standard of the grandson of King James, who, by the Scotch, was hailed as the heir
to the English throne, but by the government denominated the Pretender.
An invitation was now sent to the Pretender, who had taken refuge in France,
to come to Scotland, while the friends to his cause were seducing and enlisting men
for his service. This was done with all possible secrecy, yet their proceedings were
soon known by the ministry, as on the 20th of July, 1715, when the king had not then
reigned a year, he went to the House of Lords, where, having sent for the Commons,
he told them from the throne, that a plan was on foot to invade the country by the
Pretender; and that he suspected there were too many abettors of rebellion in this
country.
He required, that until the rebellion should be quelled, the act of habeas corpus
should be suspended, and preparations should to that end be immediately made.
Orders were issued for the embodying of the militia, the guards were
encamped in Hyde Park, and several men of war ordered to guard the coasts, and
intercept the army of the Pretender on his voyage from France to Scotland. Many
persons were apprehended on suspicion of secretly aiding the rebels, and committed
to prison.
Meanwhile the earl of Mar 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 VIII.
An attempt was made by stratagem to surprise the castle of Edinburgh. To this end
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, some of whom were executed.
The rebels were greatly chagrined at the failure of their attempt upon
Edinburgh castle; 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.
Discontent, however, 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; and, being joined by several noblemen and gentlemen,
they attempted to seize the large and commercial town of Newcastle, but were driven
back by the friends of the government. Forster set up the standard of the Pretender,
and proclaimed him the lawful King of Britain wherever he went. He next joined a
body of Scotch troops in rebellion, and marched with them as far as Preston in
Lancashire, before his career could be stopped by the king's army.
At this town generals Carpenter and Wills attacked the rebels, who defended
themselves a while, by firing upon the royal army from windows, and from the tops of
houses, but the latter proved victorious, though not without the loss of 150 men. They
made prisoners about 1500, among whom were
English Peers:
The Earl of Derwentwater,
The Lord Widdrinaton,
The Earl of Nithisdale,
The Earl of Winton,
The Earl of Carnworth,
Scotch Peers:
Viscount Kenniure,
The Lord Nairn
These noblemen, with about 300 more rebels, were conveyed to London; 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, were 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 to the derision of the populace, until
the lords were conveyed to the Tower, and the others to Newgate and other prisons.
On the day after the victory of the English, the earl of Mar, with his followers,
attempted to cross the Forth, with a view of joining the rebels, collected together in
England; but a squadron of the British fleet having anchored off Edinburgh, they
abandoned that design.
Sir John Maenzte, on the part of the Pretender, fortified the town of Inverness; but
lord Lovat armed his tenants, and drove him from his fortifications. This was a service
of much import to the royal cause, as the possession of Inverness opened a
communication between the high and the low lands of Scotland. The earl of
Scathforth and the marquis of Huntley, appeared in favour of the Pretender; but on the
earl of Sunderland threatening to fall upon them at the head of his tenants, they laid
down their arms. Thus we find that the interest of Scotland was divided in the
question of the right to the British throne. In England there was a vast majority in
favour of the house of Hanover.
[Note: Lord Lovat — This Scotch nobleman, at this time active in the cause of King
George, by a strange infatuation, during a subsequent rebellion, on the very same
cause, took the other side, and fought for the Pretender, was taken, condemned, and
beheaded on Tower-hill! A particular account of that rebellion we shall, also give,
with the trials and execution of the rebels.]
The Pretender, evading the British ships sent to watch his motions, landed
from a small French vessel, with only six followers. This happened on the 23d of
December, while the royal army, under the duke of Argyle, were in winter quarters at
Stirling, and that of the rebels, at Perth. On the 9th of January, 1716, having collected
a few hundred half-armed Highlanders, the Pretender made a public entry into the
palace of Scone, the place of coronation of the kings of Scotland, while that country
was a separate monarchy; assumed the functions of a king, and issued a proclamation
for his coronation, and another for the convocation of the states.
These daring proceedings determined the duke of Argyle, who had, been
joined by general Cadogan, at the head of 6000 Dutch troops, notwithstanding the
inclemency of the season, to march in pursuit of the rebels, He proceeded to their
head-quarters at Perth, but they fled on his approach. It appeared that the Pretender
was encouraged by France to rebel, hoping , thereby to throw the nation into
confusion, of which that deceitful government would have taken the advantage. To
meet the expected succours, the Pretender and his adherents went to Dundee, and
thence to Montrose, where, soon rendered hopeless by no news arriving of the
approach of the foreigners, they, began to disperse. 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.
It is now time to return to the captive lords, and the other prisoners, taken at
the battle of Preston. The House of Commons unanimously agreed to impeach the
lords, 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 Cooper, the
Lord High Chancellor of England, being constituted Lord High Steward.
The unfortunate noblemen, 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, was illegal.
Proclamation was immediately made for silence, and the Lord High Steward
proceeded to pass the sentence of the Law, on those who had pleaded guilty, in the
following words
"James earl of Derwentwater, William lord Widdrington, William earl of
Nithisdale, Robert earl of Carnworth, William viscount Kenmure, William lord Nairn:
"You stand. impeached by the Commons of Great Britain, in parliament
assembled, of high-treason, in traitorously imagining and compassing the death of his
most sacred majesty, and in conspiring for that end to levy a bloody and destructive
war against his majesty, in order to depose and murder him; and in levying war
accordingly, and proclaiming a pretender to his crown to be king of these realms.
"Which impeachment, though one of your lordships, in the introduction to this
plea, supposes to be out of. the ordinary and common course of the law and justice, is
yet as much a course of proceeding according to the common law, as any other
whatsoever.
"If you had been indicted, the indictment must have been removed, and
brought before the House of Lords, (the parliament sitting.) In that case you had ('tis
true) been accused only by the grand-jury of one county; in the present, the whole
body of the commons of Great Britain, by their representatives, are your accusers.
"And this circumstance is very observable, (to exclude all possible supposition
of hardship, as to the method of proceeding against you) that, however all great
assemblies are apt to differ on other points, you were impeached by the unanimous
opinion of the House of Commons, not one contradicting.
"They found themselves, it seems, so much concerned in the preservation of
his most truly sacred majesty, and the Protestant succession (the very life and soul of
these kingdoms) that they could not omit the first opportunity of taking their proper
part, in order to so signal and necessary an act of his majesty's justice.
"And thus the whole body politic of this free kingdom has in a manner rose up
in its own defence, for the punishment of those crimes, which, it was rightly
apprehended, had a directs, tendency to the everlasting dissolution of it.
"To this impeachment you have severally pleaded and acknowledged
yourselves guilty of the high treason therein contained.
"Your pleas are accompanied with some variety of matter to mitigate your
offences, and to obtain mercy.
"Part of which, as some of the circumstances said to have attended your
surrender, (seeming to be offered rather as arguments only for mercy, than any thing
in Mitigation of your preceding guilt) is not proper for me to take notice of.
"But as to the other part, which is meant to extenuate the crimes of which you
are convicted, it is fit I should take this occasion to make some observations to your
lordships upon it, to the end that the judgment to be given against you, may clearly
appear to be just and righteous, as well as legal; and that you may not remain under
any fatal error in respect of a greater judicature, by reflecting with less horror and
remorse on the guilt you have contracted, than it really deserves.
"It is alleged, by some of your lordships, that you engaged in this rebellion
without previous concert or deliberation, and without suitable preparations of men,
horses, and arms.
"If this should be supposed true, on some of your lordships averring it, I desire
you to consider, that it exempts you from the circumstance of contriving this treason,
so it very much aggravates your guilt in that part you have undoubtedly borne in the
execution of it.
"For it shews, that your inclinations to rebel were so well known, (which could
only be from a continued series of your words and actions) that the contrivers of that
horrid design depended upon you, and therein judged rightly that your zeal to engage
in this treason was so strong, as to carry you into it on the least warning, and the very
first invitation: that you would not excuse yourselves by want of preparation, as you
might have done; and that rather than not have a share in the rebellion, you would
plunge yourselves into it, almost naked and unprovided for such an enterprise; in
short, that your Men, horses, and arms, were not so well prepared as they might, and
would have been, on longer warning; but your minds were.
"It is alleged also, as an extenuation of your crimes, that no cruel or harsh
action (I suppose is meant no rapine or plunder, or worse) has been committed by you.
"This may, in part only, be true: but then your lordships will at the same time
consider, that the laying waste a tract of land bears but a little proportion, in point of
guilt, compared with that crime of which you stand convicted; an open attempt to
destroy the best of kings, to ruin the whole fabric, and raze the very foundations of a
government, the best suited of any in the world, to perfect the happiness, and, support
the dignity of human nature. The former offence causes but a mischief that is soon
recovered, and is usually pretty much confined; the latter, had it succeeded, must have
brought a lasting and. universal destruction on the whole kingdom.
"Besides, much of this was owing to accident; your march was so hasty, partly
to avoid the king's troops, and partly from a vain hope to stir up insurrections in all the
counties you passed through, that you had not time to spread devastation, without
deviating from your main, and, as I have observed, much worse design.
"Farther: 'Tis very surprising that any concerned in this rebellion, should lay
their engaging in it on the government's doing a necessary and usual act in like cases,
for its preservation; the giving orders to confine such as were most likely to join in
that treason: 'tis hard to believe that any one should rebel, merely to avoid being
restrained from rebelling; or that a gentle confinement would not much better have
suited a crazy state of health, than the fatigues and inconveniences of such long and
hasty marches in the depth of winter.
"Your lordships rising in arms therefore, has much more justified the prudence
and fitness of those orders, than those orders will in anywise serve to mitigate your
treason. Alas! happy had it been for all your lordships, had you fallen under so
indulgent a restraint!
"When your lordships shall, in good earnest, apply yourselves to think
impartially on your case, surely you will not yourselves believe that it is possible, in
the nature of the thing, to be engaged, and continue so long engaged, in such a
difficult and laborious enterprise, through rashness, surprise, or inadvertency; or that
had the attack at Preston been less sudden (and consequently the rebels better
prepared to receive it,) your lordships had been reduced the sooner, and with less, if
not without any bloodshed.
"No, my lords, these, and such like, are artful colourings, proceeding from
minds filled with expectation of continuing in this world, and not from such as are
preparing for their defence before a tribunal; where the thoughts of the heart, and the
true springs and causes of action must be laid open.
"And now, my Lords, having thus removed some false colours you have used,
to assist you yet farther in that necessary work of thinking on your great offence as
you ought, I proceed to touch upon several circumstances that seem greatly to
aggravate your Crime, and which will deserve your most serious consideration.
"The divine virtues ('tis one of your lordships' own epithets) which all the
World, as well as your lordships, acknowledge to be in his majesty, and which you
now lay claim to, ought certainly to have withheld your hands from endeavouring to
depose, to destroy, to murder, that most excellent prince; so the impeachment speaks,
and so the law construes your actions: and this is not only true in the notion of law,
but almost always so in deed and reason. 'Tis a trite, but a very true remark, that there
are but few hours between kings being reduced under the power of pretenders to their
crown and their graves. Had you succeeded, his majesty's case would, I fear, have
hardly been an exception to that general rule, since 'tis highly improbable that flight
should have saved any of that illustrious and valiant family.
'Tis a further aggravation of your crime, that his majesty, whom your
Lordships would have dethroned, affected not the crown by force, or by the arts of
ambition, but succeeded peaceably and legally to it; and on the decease of her late
majesty without issue, became undoubtedly the next in course of descent capable of
succeeding to the crown, by the law and constitution of this kingdom, as it stood
declared some years before the crown was expressly limited to the house of Hanover.
This right was acknowledged, and the descent of the crown limited accordingly, by,
the whole legislature in two successive reigns, and more than once in the latter; which
your lordships' accomplices are very far from allowing would bias the nation to that
side.
"How could it then enter into the heart of man, to think that private persons
might with a good conscience endeavour to subvert such a settlement, by running to
tumultuary arms, and by intoxicating the dregs of the people with contradictory
opinions and groundless slanders; or that God's providence would ever prosper such
wicked, such ruinous attempts; especially if, in the next place, it be considered, that
the most fertile inventions, on the side of the rebellion, have not been able to assign
the least shadow of a grievance as the cause of it: to such poor shifts have they been
reduced on this head, that, for want of better colours, it has been objected, in a solemn
manner, by your lordships' associates, to his majesty's government, that his people do
not enjoy the fruits of peace, as our neighbours have done since the last war: thus they
first rob us of our peace, and then upbraid us, that we have it not. It is a monstrous
rebellion, that can find no fault with the government it invades, but what is the effect
of the rebellion itself!
"Your lordships will likewise do well to consider what an additional burden
your treason has made it necessary to impose on the people of this kingdom, who
wanted, and were about to enjoy some respite: to this end, 'tis well known, that all
new, or increase of taxes, were the last year carefully avoided, and his majesty was
contented to have no more forces than were just sufficient to attend his person, and
shut the gates of a few garrisons.
"But what his majesty thus did for the ease and quiet of his people, you most
ungratefully turned to his disadvantage, by taking encouragement from thence, to
endanger his and his kingdom's safety, and to bring oppression on your fellow-
subjects.
"Your lordships observe, I avoid expatiating on the miseries of a civil war, a
very large and copious subject; I shall but barely suggest to you on that head, that
whatever those calamities may happen to be, in the present case, all who are, at any
time, or in any place, partakers in the rebellion (especially persons of figure and
distinction), are in some degree responsible for them: and therefore your lordships
must not hold yourselves quite clear from the guilt of those barbarities which have
been lately committed, by such as were engaged in the same treason with you, and not
yet perfectly reduced, in burning the habitations of their countrymen and thereby
exposing many thousands to cold and hunger in this rigorous season.
"I must be so just, to such of your lordships as profess the religion of the
church of Rome, that you had one temptation, and that a great one, to engage you in
this treason, which the others had not; in that, it was evident, success on your part
must for ever have established Popery in this kingdom, and that probably you could
never have again so fair an opportunity.
"But then, good God! how must those Protestants be covered with confusion,
who entered into the same measures, without so much as capitulating for their religion
(that ever I could find, from any examination I have seen or heard), or so much as
requiring, much less obtaining a frail promise, that it should be preserved, or even
tolerated.
"It is my duty to exhort your lordships thus to think of the aggravations, as
well as the mitigations (if there be any) of your offences: and 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; 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 in 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 back to the Tower, and
on the 18th of February orders were sent to the lieutenant of the Tower and sheriffs
for their execution; and great solicitations were made in favour of them, which not
only reached the Court, but came down to the two houses of parliament, and petitions
were delivered in both, which being backed by some, occasioned debates that in the
House of Commons arose no higher than to occasion a motion for adjournment,
thereby to prevent any further interposition there; but the matter in the House of Peers
was carried on with more success, where their petitions were delivered and spoke to,
and it was carried by nine or ten voices, that the same should be received and read.
And the question was put, whether the King had power to reprieve, in case of
impeachment? which being carried in the affirmative, a motion was made to address
his majesty to desire him to grant reprieve to the lords under sentence; but the movers
thereof 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."
To which address 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 they had made, as was said, by the means of money, and also
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 the hastening
their execution; for on the same day the address was presented, the 23d of February, it
was resolved in council, that the earl of Derwentwater and the lord Kenmure, should
be beheaded; and the earl of Nithisdale, apprehending he should be included in the
warrant, made his escape the evening before, in a woman's riding-hood, supposed to
have been conveyed to him by his mother on a visit.
In 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; and 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 James the Third, for whom he had an inviolable affection, and that these
kingdoms would never be happy till the ancient constitution was restored; and be
wished his death might contribute to that desirable end. His lordship professed to die a
Roman Catholic, and in the postscript to his speech, said, "if that prince, who now
governs, had given me life I should have thought myself obliged never more to have
taken up arms against him."
Sir John Fryer, desiring to have the paper, he said he had sent a copy of it to
his friends, and then delivered it. He then read some prayers out of two small books,
and kneeled to try how the block would fit his neck. This being done, he had again
recourse to his devotions, and having told the executioner that he forgave him, and
likewise forgave all his enemies, he directed him to strike when he should repeat the
words "Sweet Jesus," the third time.
He then kneeled down, and said, "Sweet Jesus! receive my spirit! Sweet Jesus
be merciful to me; Sweet Jesus" — and appeared to be proceeding in his prayer, when
his head was struck off at one blow and the executioner taking it up, exhibited it at the
four corners of the scaffold, saying, "Behold the head of a traitor:— God save King
George."
The body was now wrapped up 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 put on the block, and saw-dust strewed, that none of the blood might
appear, Lord Kenmure was conducted to the scaffold.
His Lordship, who was a Protestant, was attended by two clergymen; but he
declined saying much, telling one of them that he had prudential reasons for not
delivering his sentiments; which were supposed to arise from his regard to Lord
Carnworth, who was his brother-in-law, and was then interceding for the royal mercy;
as his talking in the way that Lord Derwentwater had done might be supposed to
injure his Lordship with those most likely to serve him,
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 Earl of Winton having left his house, with fourteen or fifteen of his
servants well mounted and armed joining the Earl Carnworth and Lord Kenmure; his
proceeding with the rebels through the various stages of their march, and his
surrendering with the rest, were circumstances fully proved: notwithstanding which
his counsel moved an arrest of judgment: but the plea on which this motion was
founded being thought insufficient, his Peers unanimously found him guilty: and then
the Lord High Steward pronounced sentence on him, after having addressed him in
the following forcible terms:
"George Earl of Winton, I have acquainted you, that your Peers have found
you guilty; that is, in the terms of the law, convicted you of the high treason whereof
you stand impeached; after your Lordship has moved an arrest of judgment, and their
lordships have disallowed that motion, that their next step is to proceed to judgment.
"The melancholy part I am to bear, in pronouncing that judgment upon you,
since it is His Majesty's pleasure to appoint Me to that office, I dutifully submit to it;
far, very far, from taking any satisfaction in it.
"'Till conviction, your Lordship has been spoken to without the least prejudice,
or supposition of your guilt; but now it must be taken for granted, that your lordship is
guilty of the high treason whereof you stand impeached.
"My Lord, this your crime is the greatest known to the law of this kingdom, or
of any other country whatsoever, and it is of the blackest and most odious species of
that crime; a conspiracy and attempt, manifested by an open rebellion, to depose and
murder that sacred person, who sustains, and is the Majesty of the Whole; and from
whom, as from a, fountain of warmth and glory, are dispersed all the honours, all the
dignity of the State; indeed the lasting and operative life and vigour of the laws, which
plainly subsist by a due administration of the executive power.
"So that attempting this precious life, is really striking at the most noble part,
the seat of life, and spring of all motion in this government; and may, therefore,
properly be called a design to murder not only the king, but also,the body politic of
this kingdom. And this is most evidently true in your Lordship's case, considering
that, success in your treason must infallibly have established popery, and that never
fails to bring with it a civil as well as ecclesiastical tyranny; which is quite another
sort of constitution than that of this kingdom, and cannot take place till the present is
annihilated.
This your crime (so I must call it) is the more aggravated, in that where it
proceeds so far as to take arms openly, and to make an offensive war against lawful
authority; it is generally (as in your case) complicated with the horrid and crying sin
of murdering many, who are not only innocent but meritorious; and, if pity be due (as
I admit it is in some degree) to such as suffer for their own crimes it must be admitted
a much greater share of compassion is owing to them who have lost their lives merely
by the crimes of other men.
"As many have so done in the late rebellion, so many murders have they to
answer for who promoted it; and your lordship, in examining your conscience, will be
under a great delusion, if you look at those that fell at Preston, Dumblain, or
elsewhere, on the side of the laws, and defence of settled order and government, as
slain in open lawful warfare, even judging of this matter by the law of nations.
"Alas I my Lord, your crime of high treason is yet made redder by shedding a
great deal of the best blood in the kingdom; I include in this expression the brave
common soldiers, as well as those gallant and heroic officers, who continued faithful
to death, in defence of the laws: for sure but little blood can be better than that, which
is shed while it is warm, in the cause of the true religion, and the liberties of its native
country."
After continuing for some length, much in the same strain as the foregoing
address, his Lordship pronounced the usual sentence.
Soon after the passing this sentence, the Earls of Winton and Nithisdale 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 escape 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 were brought to London; and, being arraigned in the Court of Exchequer,
most of them pleaded guilty, and suffered the utmost rigour of the law.
It will now be proper that we mention the cases of such other remarkable
persons who suffered on account of the rebellion; and then we will make some
general remarks ion the nature and heinousness of that offence.
COLONEL HENRY OXBURGH
Executed at Tyburn, May 14, 1716, for High Treason.
HENRY OXBURGH, Esq. the son of a man of considerable property in
Lancashire, having been educated in the most rigid principles of the Roman Catholic
religion, was sent abroad while a youth into the service of France, in which he
acquired the character of a brave and gallant officer.
At the close of the war he returned to England to see his friends; and, finding
that the rebels were advancing southwards, he raised a regiment with which he joined
the main army before it reached Preston. Colonel Oxburgh was the man who ordered
the rebels to fire on the royal troops, and if his opinion had been taken, the town
would not have surrendered as soon as it did.
On his trial he pleaded guilty, but after sentence was passed on him, and he
found that every application for mercy was unsuccessful, he talked in a strain very
different from that of a man conscious of any crime. He said he considered the
Pretender as his lawful sovereign, and never deemed himself the subject of any other
prince.
He even asserted that he would have been equally loyal to the Pretender if he
had been a Protestant.
This unhappy man seems to have fallen a victim to the prejudices of
education.
RICHARD GASCOIGNE
Executed at Tyburn, May 25; 1716, for High Treason.
THIS unfortunate man was singularly active in fomenting the rebellion. So
zealous was he in the cause, that he mortgaged his whole estate to supply him with
money to purchase arms from foreign countries.
When the rebels marched towards the south of England, he engaged all the
forces he could, and went and joined them, proclaiming the Pretender king, at every
stage of his march. He was made prisoner by the king's troops at Preston, at the same
time as Colonel Oxburgh; and being arraigned before Lord Chief Justice King, in
Westminster Hall, he pleaded "Not Guilty."
On his trial it was proved, that some casks of arms which he had purchased
abroad, were found on board a ship, directed to him; and being found guilty on the
clearest evidence, sentence of death was passed on him.
While he lay under sentence of death, his sentiments appeared to be nearly the
same as those of Colonel Oxburgh: and at the place of execution he declared that he
did not take up arms with a view to restore the Roman Catholic religion, but solely in
behalf of James the Third whom he deemed his lawful sovereign.
REV. WILLIAM PAUL
Executed at Tyburn, July 18, 1716, for High Treason.
MR. PAUL was born of reputable parents, near Lotterworth, in Leicestershire;
and having been educated for the pulpit, took the degree of Bachelor of Arts at St.
John's College, Cambridge. After officiating as a chaplain for two clergymen, the
Bishop of Oxford presented him to the vicarage of Orton, in his native county, to
which he was instituted in the year 1709.
The rebels having reached Preston, Mr. Paul began a journey to meet them;
but was apprehended on suspicion, and carried before Colonel Noel, a justice of the
peace, who, finding no just cause of detention, dismissed him; on which he continued
his journey to Preston, where he read prayers to the rebels three days successively,
and prayed for the Pretender, by the name of King James, in the parish church.
A short time before the national forces reached Preston, Mr. Paul quitted that
place; and, coming to London, disguised himself by wearing coloured clothes, a
sword, a laced hat, and a full-bottomed wig.
But he had not been long in this disguise before he was met by Mr. Bird, a
justice of the peace for Leicestershire, who caused him to be taken into custody, and
carried to the house of the Duke of Devonshire, who sent him to the secretary of state
for examination; but, as he refused to make any confession, he was delivered to the
custody of one of the king's messengers, with whom he remained about a fortnight,
and was then committed to Newgate.
He was arraigned at Westminster on the 31st of May, and pleaded "Not
Guilty:" on which he was remanded to Newgate, and had time allowed him to prepare
his defence. On his return to prison, he sent for a friend; to whom he said "What must
I do? I have been this day arraigned, and pleaded Not Guilty, but that will not avail,
for too much will be proved against me." — To this his friend replied, "I will
persuade you to nothing; but, in my opinion; the best way is to confess your fault, ask
pardon, and throw yourself on the king's mercy." Mr. Paul said his counsel advised
the same, and he was resolved to do so; and when he was again brought again to the
bar, he retracted his former plea, and pleaded guilty; in consequence of which
sentence of death was passed on him.
Being sent back to prison he made every possible interest for the preservation
.of his life; for he seemed to have a singular dread of death, particularly when
attended with such disgraceful circumstances as he had reason to apprehend. He wrote
a petition to. the king, another to the lord chief Justice, and letters to the Archbishop
of Canterbury, with other letters to clergymen; in all of which he acknowledged his
crime, and his change of sentiments; and intercedes for mercy, in terms of the most
abject humiliation.
In a letter to a female relation, he says, "I am among the number of those who
are to suffer next Friday. — I cannot think of dying the death of a dog, by the hands of
a common executioner, with any manner of patience. Transportation, perpetual
imprisonment, or any other condition of life, will be infinitely preferable to so
barbarous and insupportable a way of ending it; and means must be found for
preventing, or I shall anticipate the ignominy of the halter, by laying violent hands on
myself. Give Mr. C—r to. understand, that he may promise any thing that he shall
think fit in my name; and that his royal highness the Prince, and his council, shall
have no cause to repent of their mercy to me."
All Mr. Paul's petitions, however, proved fruitless; he was ordered for
execution, and was attended by a nonjuring clergyman, who endeavoured to inspire
him with an idea of the justice of the cause for which he was to yield his life; he was,
however, dreadfully affected till within a few days of his death; when he began to
assume a greater degree of courage.
JOHN HALL, ESQ
Executed at Tyburn, July 18,1716, for High Treason.
JOHN HALL, ESQ, was a justice of the peace for the county of
Northumberland, and having been taken prisoner with the other rebels at Preston, was
brought to London, and indicted for having joined, aided, and abetted the rebels. Two
evidences deposed that be was seen at different places with the rebels; but in his
defence he said, that having been to a Meeting of the justices at Plainfield, he had
lodged at a friend's house, and that on the following day, while he was stooping on his
horse's neck, to screen himself from the tempestuous weather, himself and his servant
were surrounded by the rebels, who forced them away; and that he was unarmed, and
had only seven shillings and sixpence in his possession.
Though this circumstance was sworn to by Mr. Hall's servant, yet the Court in
the charge to the jury observed, that, "If a man was seen with rebels, if it appeared that
he had frequent opportunities of escaping, and did not do it, but continued by his
presence to abet and comfort them, it was treason within the, meaning of the law."
Now as it appeared in evidence that Mr. Hall had liberty to ride out when he
pleased, and did not seem to be restrained, the jury found him guilty; and when the
Court passed sentence on him, he said, "God's will be done."
After conviction he was attended by a nonjuring clergyman; and behaved with
manly fortitude under his misfortunes: however, he made such interest that he
obtained five short reprieves, and might possibly have been pardoned; but that having
written the following speech some weeks before his death, the knowledge thereof is
supposed to have reached the Court; for when a nobleman made application for
pardon, he was answered, "By no means, my good Lord: it were a pity Mr. Hall
should lose the opportunity of leaving such a speech behind him, as he gives out will
raise the spirits of the whole nation to be of the same mind with him, and will be
instrumental in bringing in the person whom he calls his lawful sovereign King James
the Third."
Mr. Hall was executed at the same time and place with Mr. Paul; and, a few
minutes before he was turned off; he delivered a paper to the sheriff which is as
follows:
"Friends, Brethren, and Countrymen,
"I am come here to die, for the sake of God, my king, and my country; and I
heartily rejoice that I am counted worthy of so great an honour: for let not any of you
think that that I am come to a shameful and ignominious end: the truth and justice of
the cause for which I suffer makes my death a duty, a virtue, and an honour.
Remember that I lay down my life for asserting the right of my lawful sovereign king
James the Third; that I offer myself a victim for the liberties and happiness of my dear
country, and my beloved fellow-subjects; that I fall a sacrifice to tyranny, oppression,
and usurpation. In short, consider that I suffer in defence of the command of God, and
the laws, and hereditary constitution of the land; and then know, and be assured, that I
am not a traitor, but a martyr.
"I declare that I die a true and sincere member of the church of England, but
not of the revolution schismatical church, whose bishops have so rebelliously
abandoned the king, and so shamefully given up the rights of the church, by
submitting to the unlawful invalid lay-deprivations of the prince of Orange. The
communion I die in, is that of the true catholic nonjuring church of England, and I
pray God to prosper and increase it, and to grant (if it be his good pleasure) that it may
rise again and flourish..
"I heartily beg pardon of all whom I have in any manner, and at any time,
injured and offended. I do particularly implore forgiveness of God and my king, for
having so far swerved from my duty, as to comply with the usurpation, in swearing
allegiance to it, and acting in public posts by the usurper's commissions, which were
void of all power and authority. God knows my heart, I did this at first through
ignorance and error, but after I had recollected myself, and informed my judgment
better, I repented and drew my sword for the king, and now submit myself to this
violent death for his sake. I heartily pray God my patience and my sufferings may
atone for my former crime; and this I beg through the merits, mediation, and
sufferings, of my dearest Saviour Jesus Christ.
"I do sincerely forgive all my enemies, especially those who have either
caused or increased. the destruction in church or state; I pray God have mercy upon
them, and spare them, because they are the works of his own hands, and because they
are redeemed with his Son's most precious blood. I do, particularly, forgive from the
bottom of my heart, the elector of Brunswick, who murders me; my unjust pretended
judges and jury, who convicted and condemned me; Mr. Patten and Carnaby,
evidences who swore against me at my trial. And I do here declare, upon the words of
a dying man (and all my Northumberland fellow prisoners can testify the same) that
the evidence they gave was so far from being the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth, that, in relation to my indictment, they swore not to one true thing
against me — but many absolute falsehoods. I pray God forgive them, for I am sure I
do.
"Lastly, I forgive all who had a hand in the surrender of Preston, for they have
surrendered away my life; and I would to God that were the only bad consequence of
it. But; alas! it is too plain that the surrenderers not only ruined many of his majesty's
brave and faithful subjects, but gave up their king and country into the bargain; for it
was then in their power to have restored the king with triumph to his throne, and
thereby to have made us a happy people. We had repulsed our enemies at every
attack, and were ready, willing, and able, to have attacked them.
"On our side, even our common men were brave, courageous, and resolute; on
the other hand, theirs were directly the contrary, insomuch, that after they had run
away from our first fire, they could never be brought so much as to endeavour to stand
a second. This I think myself obliged in justice to mention, that Mr. Wills may not
impose upon the world, as if he and his troops had conquered us, and gained the
victory, for the truth is, after we had conquered them, our superiors thought fit to
capitulate and ruin us; I wish them God's and the king's pardon for it.
May it please God to bless, preserve, and restore our only rightful and lawful
sovereign king James the Third; may He direct his counsels, and prosper his arms;
may He bring him to his kingdom, and set the crown upon his head.
"May He protect him from the malice of his enemies, and defend him from
those who for a reward would slay him innocent! May He grant him in health and
wealth long to live; may He strengthen him, that he may vanquish and overcome all
his enemies; and finally, when it pleases His infinite wisdom to take him out of this
world, may He take him to Himself, and reward him with an everlasting crown of
glory in the next.
"These my beloved countrymen are the sincere prayers, these the last words of
me who am now a dying person; and if you have any regard to the last breath of one,
who is just going out of the world, let me beg of you to be dutiful, obedient, and loyal,
to your only sovereign liege lord king James the Third; be ever ready to serve him,
and be sure you never fail to use all your endeavours to restore him; and whatever the
consequence be, remember that you have a good cause, and a gracious God, and
expect a recompence from him.
"To that God, the God of truth, and holiness, the rewarder of all who suffer for
righteousness' sake, I commend my soul, beseeching him to have mercy upon it, for
the sake of my dear Redeemer, and merciful Saviour, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen,
Amen, Amen."
Postscript.
"I might reasonably have expected my life would have been saved, since I had
obtained five reprieves; but I find that the Duke of Hanover, and his evil counsellors
who guide him, have got so little virtue and honour themselves, that they are resolved
not to spare my life, because I would not purchase it upon base and dishonourable
terms. I have reason to think, that at first I could have secured my life and fortune, if I
would have pleaded guilty; and I doubt not but that I might since have obtained
favour, if I would have petitioned in a vile, scandalous manner: but I was resolved to
do nothing whereby I should have disowned my king, and denied my principles; and I
thank my good God, both for inspiring me with this holy resolution, and for giving me
the grace to perform it.
ROBERT WHITTY, FELIX O'HARA, AND JOSEPH
SULLIVAN
Executed at Tyburn, July 18,1716, for High Treason.
Among the sufferers in the rebellion were these three, who were apprehended
in London, enlisting men for the pretender; and though the business in which they
were engaged was of the most dangerous nature, yet they continued it for some time,
but were at length apprehended, brought to trial, and being convicted, were executed
at Tyburn on the 18th of May, 1716.
Robert Whitty was born in Ireland, and having enlisted for a soldier when
young, served in an English regiment in Spain, where being wounded, he was brought
to England, and received the bounty of Chelsea-college, as an out-pensioner.
Felix O'Hara, who was about 29 years of age, was likewise an Irishman, and
having lived some time in Dublin as a waiter at a tavern, he saved some money, and
entered into business for himself; but that not answering as he could have wished, he
came to London.
Joseph Sullivan was a native of Munster in Ireland, and about the same age as
O'Hara. He had for some time served in the Irish brigades, but obtaining his
discharge, he came to England, and was thought a fit agent to engage in the business
which cost him and his companions their lives.
These men denied, at the time of their trial, that they had been guilty of any
crime; and even at the place of execution they attempted to defend their conduct. They
all died professing the Roman Catholic religion.
We have already fully stated the law against treason, in the case of William
Gregg, the first traitor, whose case came before us in the order we have placed these
singular series of biography. Any comments upon the cause which stirred up this
rebellion in Scotland is needless, it being well known that, like the contending parties
of York and Lancaster, it was a struggle for the crown between the houses of Hanover
and of the Stuarts. The latter becoming entirely extinct in the death of a Cardinal at
Rome, the only remaining relative of the family, we are not likely on that score, to be
again embroiled in civil wars
JAMES GOODMAN
Executed March 12, 1716, for Horse Stealing, &c.
. JAMES GOODMAN was a native of Little Harwood, in Buckinghamshire,
and served his time to a carpenter at Aylesbury. After he was out of his time, he and
two other young men agreed to have a venison pasty, and make merry; in
consequence of which they stole a deer; but being taken into custody, one of them
turned evidence, whereupon Goodman and the other were imprisoned a year in
Aylesbury gaol.
After his enlargement, he married and entered into business, which he carried
on with success for about nine years: but becoming fond of idle company, he was
soon so reduced in circumstances that himself and his family were brought to ruin.
Coming to London, he got into company with one Stephens, with whom he
agreed to commit robberies on the highway. Pursuant to this plan they stopped Philip
White, between Stratford and Ilford in Essex, and robbed him of his horse, one
shilling, and his spurs.
Four days after this robbery, Mr. White saw Goodman on his horse at Bow, in
the company of Stephens, who was likewise on horseback. Hereupon Mr. White sent
his servant to demand his horse; on which the robbers galloped off, but were
immediately pursued by Mr. White and his man. Finding themselves hard pressed,
they quitted their horses, and ran into the field; when Mr. White gave his servant a
gun, and bid him follow them. He did so; on which one of them fired twice, and said,
"d—n it, we'll kill or be killed; we won't be taken alive; our lives are as good as
theirs." On this Mr. White's servant fired his gun, which was loaded with pebble-
stones, and striking Goodman on the head, he was so stunned that he was easily taken;
and some other persons now coming up, one of them drew a hanger, and pursued
Stephens, who submitting after a short resistance, both the prisoners were conveyed to
Newgate.
Stephens having been admitted an evidence against Goodman, the latter was
brought to his trial, when he endeavoured to prove that he was in another place when
the robbery was committed, and that he had purchased Mr. White's horse; but the jury
found him guilty, as they did not believe the testimony of his witnesses.
After conviction he was put into the bail dock, in order to receive sentence, but
the night being dark, and being assisted by some other prisoners, he got over the
spikes, and though he was loaded with irons, effected his escape.
But it was not long before he was re-taken, owing to a very singular
circumstance. While in custody, he delivered some money to a carrier to take into the
country to a woman with whom he had cohabited; but the carrier, considering his
situation, kept the money for his own use.
Wherefore, about a month after his escape, Goodman went to an alehouse in
Holborn, and sent for a lawyer, to concert with him how to recover the money of the
carrier: but some persons in the house happening to know him, went to Newgate, and
informed the keepers where he was; on which he was taken into custody after a
desperate resistance; and at the end of the next sessions at the Old Bailey, he received
sentence of death.
While he lay in this deplorable situation, he acknowledged his guilt, confessed
he had committed many robberies, lamented the iniquities of his past life, and wished
he could make reparation to those whom he had injured.
HENRY POWEL
Highwayman, executed at Tyburn, on the 23rd of December, 1715.
At the age of nine years he was placed at Merchant Taylor's School, whence
he was removed to the care of Dr. Shorter, under whom he obtained a tolerable
proficiency in the Latin and Greek languages.
Having made choice of the profession of a surgeon, he was bound at Surgeon's
Hall, to a gentleman equally eminent for his skill and piety; but giving early proofs of
the wildness of his disposition, his master predicted the fatal consequence that would
ensue.
Powel's father and mother dying soon after he was bound, and his master,
when he had served six years of his time, he was wholly at his own disposal: a
circumstance that led to his ruin. He was at this time only eighteen years of age, and
hitherto had not kept any company that was notoriously wicked. Going now to see a
young woman who was related to him, she fancied a ring which he had on his finger,
and wished he would exchange it for hers, which he did; but it appearing to be of less
value than she imagined, she was base enough, on the following morning, to have him
seized in his bed, as a proper person to serve the king; and without being permitted to
send for any friend, he was sent into Flanders as a foot-soldier.
He twice deserted from the regiment in which he served; but the intercession
of some of his officers saved him from the customary punishment. When he had been
a soldier about three years, the regiment was quartered at Nieuport, between Dunkirk
and Ostend, whence he again deserted, in company with seven other men, who
travelled into Holland, where they em barked on board a ship bound to England, and
being landed at Burlington in Yorkshire, Powel came to London.
Being arrived in the metropolis, he found that he had not one acquaintance left
who was able and willing to assist him; so that he repented having deserted from the
army, being reduced to such a situation that he saw no prospect before him but either
to beg or steal. The first he despised as a mean occupation, and the latter he dreaded
as equally destructive to his soul and body.
Hereupon he applied for employment as a porter, and worked at the water-
side, till a fellow induced him to be concerned in stealing some goods, for which the
other was hanged.
About this time Powel married a young woman of strict virtue, who finding
some irregularity in his behaviour, warned him to avoid all evil courses, as they must
infallibly end in his destruction.
On the 15th of October, 1715, he went as far as South Mims, in Hertfordshire,
where he stopped Sarah Maddocks on the highway, and robbed her of two shillings
and sixpence; for which offence he was apprehended, and being tried at the Old
Bailey in the following month, he was convicted, received sentence of death, and was
executed at Tyburn, on the 23d of December, 1715.
Just before his going to the place of execution, he delivered a paper to the
Ordinary of Newgate, in which were the following passages: "I account this
ignominious death as a just judgment for my sins against the Divine Majesty and my
neighbour; and therefore patiently resign myself to his blessed will, and hope (with
true repentance and a steadfast faith in Christ Jesus,) he will seal my pardon in
heaven, before I go hence, and be no more seen; and I bless God I have had more
consolation under my condemnation, than ever I had these many years; and I hope
that those who survive me will take warning by my fatal end.
"I have this comfort, that no man can accuse me of enticing him to the
commission of such acts; especially one person, who has accused me of it since my
condemnation; but for the value I have for him, I'll omit his name, and desire him to
take warning by me; being resolved within myself, that if God had prolonged my
days, I would relinquish all such courses."
JOHN HAMILTON, ESQ.
Tried in Scotland for Murder, and beheaded by the Maiden, 30th of June,
1716
The execution of John Hamilton
THIS offender was born in the country of Clydesdale, and was related to the
ducal family of Hamilton. His parents, to whom he was an only son, sent him to
Glasgow to study the law; but the young gentleman's disposition leading him to the
profession of arms, his friends exerted their interest to procure a commission, but the
intervention of the crime of which we are about to relate the particulars prevented
their generous intention taking effect.
Young Hamilton soon becoming connected with some abandoned young
gentlemen at Edinburgh lost considerable sums at gaming, and going to his parents for
more, they supplied him for the present, but said they would not advance him any
further sums while he continued his dissipated course of life.
Being possessed of this money, Hamilton went to a village near Glasgow to
meet his companions at a public-house kept by Thomas Arkle. Having drunk and
gamed for several successive days and nights, Hamilton's companions left him while
he was asleep, leaving him to discharge the bill. Exceeding his ability, a quarrel
ensued between him and Arkle, and while they contended, Arkle stripped Hamilton's
sword from the scabbard. The latter immediately ran away, but finding he had no
sword to his scabbard he instantly went back to the house, when, on Arkle calling him
several scandalous names, he stabbed him so that he instantly expired.
The daughter of Arkle, being present, attempted to seize Hamilton, in doing
which she tore off the skirt of his coat, which was left on the floor, together with his
sword, on his effecting a second escape. This daughter of Arkle was almost blind, but
her keeping the sword and the skirt of the coat proved the means of bringing Hamilton
to justice. The murderer, having gone to Leith, embarked on board a ship, and landed
in Holland, where he continued two years; but his parents dying in the interval he
returned to Scotland, when he was taken into custody on account of the murder.
On his trial he pleaded that he was intoxicated at the time the fact was
committed, to which he was instigated by the extreme ill-usage he had received from
Arkle. The jury, not allowing the force of these arguments, found him guilty, and he
was sentenced to be beheaded by the Maiden. After Mr Hamilton received sentence of
death his friends made great interest to procure a pardon; but their endeavours proved
ineffectual, and he suffered death on the 30th of June, 1716. At the place of execution
he owned that he had killed Arkle, but presumed to think he was justified on the
principle of self-defence.
Mr Hamilton's case will teach us to reflect on the sad consequences of keeping
bad company, and an attachment to gaming. But for these vices, he might have lived
happy in himself, and a credit to the worthy family from which he was descended.
The youth who will devote those hours to the gaming-table, which he ought to employ
in the honest advancement of his fortune, can expect only to be reduced to beggary at
the best: but in a thousand instances, as well as the present, the consequences have
been much more fatal.
Hence let young gentlemen learn to shun the gaming-table as they would a
pestilence; to proceed in the plain path of honour and integrity, and to know that there
can be no true happiness in a departure from the line of virtue!
JAMES QUIN, ESQ.
The Celebrated Tragedian, tried for Murder at the Old Bailey in 1717, and
convicted of Manslaughter
JAMES QUIN was born in the parish of St Paul, Covent Garden, in the year
1693. His father was a gentleman of some estate, which he greatly embarrassed from
a neglect of prudence; but he gave his son, out of the wreck of his fortune, an
excellent education, which he finished at the University of Dublin.
From college young Quin was sent to London, in order to study law, and for
that purpose a set of chambers in the Temple and a library were provided for him.
Here he fell into that decay which has ever been fatal to many young men on their
arrival into the great metropolis — dissipated company. Legal authorities were thrown
aside and the belles lettres substituted. He was oftener seen at the theatres than in
Westminster Hall. Thus did this thoughtless young man dissipate his time until the
death of his father, which indeed happened not long after his arrival in London. He
found his patrimony very small, and that he himself had greatly assisted in reducing it.
He had made an acquaintance with Booth, Wilkes and Ryan, the first
performers of those days, and he determined on turning player. In the year 1717, when
just twenty-four years of age, he was accepted by the managers of the Theatre Royal,
Drury Lane; but before he could prepare himself for the arduous task of an appearance
before a British audience he was obliged to fly from England. It appears that he
formed an acquaintance with a woollen draper in the Strand, whose wife giving him
encouragement, a criminal correspondence took place; and the guilty pair being, by
the ill-treated husband, traced to a house of ill-fame, Quin drew his sword and
wounded him in the thigh. The husband recovered, and commenced an action of crim.
con., and another for assault, against Quin; who, to avoid the consequences of such
serious proceedings, privately decamped, and went back to Ireland, where he
remained until the natural death of the woollen draper.
We find, great as were his abilities, that he long remained at Drury Lane, to
use the words of his biographer, "a mere scene-drudge — a faggot of the drama." In
time he was entrusted with the part of Banquo, in Shakespeare's tragedy of Macbeth,
and the Lieutenant of the Tower in King Richard the Third. In the absence of a
principal performer, Mr Rich, manager of the Theatre Royal, Lincoln's Inn Fields,
with great reluctance substituted Quin in the arduous character of Sir John Falstaff, in
the comedy of The Merry Wives of Windsor. The audience, who proved better judges
than the manager, received his whole performance with uncommon applause.
His fame as an actor now rapidly increased; and upon Booth's infirmities
obliging him to quit the stage, Quin succeeded to many of his parts, and among the
rest to that of Cato, a character which had been alone acted by his predecessor, in
which he was most popular, from the first representation of that admirable tragedy.
There perhaps never was a dramatic work that engaged the public interest more than
Cato. The contending parties in politics, on several nights of the first season of its
appearance, ranged themselves, as in the House of Commons, on each side of the
theatre, alternately applauding the patriotic and loyal speeches with which it abounds.
Though Booth was gone, Cato was soon called for, and Quin prepared for this,
his greatest ordeal. He requested that the bills of the performance might say that "the
part of Cato would be attempted by Mr Quin," with which the manager complied. The
audience, pleased with his diffidence, received him with great applause, which
encouraged him to call forth his utmost exertions. When the body of Cato's dead son,
who was slain in battle, was brought upon the stage, upon Quin's repeating the line,
"Thanks to the gods, my boy has done his duty," the audience were so struck with
surprise at his energy, feeling and manner, that, as it were with one accord, they
exclaimed: "Booth outdone! Booth outdone!" In delivering the celebrated soliloquy in
the last act the audience (very unusual in tragedy) cried, "Encore! encore!" without
ceasing, until he repeated it, and the curtain fell under the greatest burst of applause.
After Quin had become the favourite of the town, in performing Cato, one
Williams, an inferior actor, came to him on the stage, in the character of a Roman
messenger, saying, "Caesar sends health to Cato," but he unfortunately pronounced
Cato "Keeto"; which so affronted Quin that, instead of giving the reply of the author,
he said: "Would he had sent a better messenger." This so greatly incensed Williams
that when the scene was concluded he followed Quin into the green-room and
complained to him of the injury he had sustained in being made contemptible to the
audience, and thereby hurt in his profession; concluding by demanding satisfaction.
Quin, instead of either apologising for the affront or accepting the challenge, made
himself merry with his passion — a treatment which increased it to a degree of frenzy;
so that, watching under the piazza of Covent Garden, as Quin was returning to his
lodgings he drew upon him, when the assailed, in defending himself, ran the
unfortunate Williams through the body, which killed him upon the spot.
Quin immediately surrendered himself to the laws of his country, and under
the circumstances here described, which were proved on his trial, we must agree with
the jury, which found him guilty of manslaughter only.
THE MARQUIS DE PALEOTTI
An Italian Nobleman, executed at Tyburn for the Murder of his Servant, 17th
of March, 1718.
The Marquis de Paleotti stabbing his Servant
THIS nobleman was the head of a noble family in Italy, and was brought to a
disgraceful death through the vice of gambling, with all the aggravated horrors of
suffering in a strange country; thus doubly disgracing the honours of his house.
Ferdinando Marquis de Paleotti was born at Bologna. In the reign of Queen
Anne he was a colonel in the Imperial army. Quitting the army at the Peace of
Utrecht, he visited England to see his sister; and being fond of an extravagant course
of life, and attached to gaming, he soon ran into 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. Though she declined to assist
him as usual, he continued his former course of life till he was imprisoned for debt;
but his sister privately procured his liberty, and he was discharged without knowing
who had conferred the favour on him.
The habits of the Marquis, however, were in nowise changed, and one day,
while 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. But the
Duke of Shrewsbury, his sister's husband, being dead, and the 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. He declared it to be
disgraceful to this country to put a nobleman to death, like a common malefactor, for
killing his servant; and lamented that our churches, as in Italy, did not offer a
sanctuary for murderers. Englishmen, however, are thankful that neither of this
Marquis' desires prevail in their country, where the law makes no distinction in
offenders. To the last moment the pride of aristocracy was predominant in his mind.
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. Vain man! of what avail were his
titles in the presence of the almighty?
JOSEPH STILL
Executed At Stanford-Hill, March, 22, 1717, For Murder
THIS man came to London in search of a livelihood, and for some time
maintained himself by selling poultry in the streets; but growing weary of that
employment, he enlisted into the army, in which he continued nine years. Having
obtained his discharge, he became acquainted with a set of thieves, who committed
depredations in the neighbourhood of London; and being apprehended, he was tried at
the Old Bailey, and whipped.
Soon after he obtained his liberty, he returned to his former way of life; and
being taken into custody in Hertfordshire, Hertfordshire, he was tried, convicted, and
punished by burning in the hand. After this he began the practice of robbing higglers
on the highway, and he obtained the appellation of Chicken Joe, from his singular
dexterity in that employment.
After continuing in this way of life a considerable time, he commenced
footpad, and committed a great number of robberies on the roads near town, escaping
detection for a long while, on account of his wearing a mask over his face.
At length almost all his companions were hanged, and he was reduced to such
distress, that he went once more on the road to supply himself with the means of
procuring the necessaries of life. Having drunk at an ale-house in Kingsland Road till
his spirits were somewhat elevated, he proceeded to Stoke-Newington, and after
sauntering awhile in the fields, without meeting with any person whom he durst
venture to attack, he went into Queen Elizabeth's Walk, behind the church, where he
saw a gentleman's servant, whose money he demanded. The servant being determined
not to be robbed, contested the matter with Still, and a battle ensuing, the villain drew
a knife, and stabbed the footman through the body.
He immediately ran away; but some people coming by while the footman was
sensible enough to tell them what had happened, Still was pursued, taken, and brought
to the spot where the other was expiring; and being searched, the bloody knife with
which he had committed the deed was found in his pocket. The man died after
declaring that Still was the murderer; and the latter was committed to Newgate; and
being indicted at the Old Bailey, the jury did not scruple to find him Guilty, in
consequence of which he received sentence of death
JAMES SHEPPARD
Jacobite, who plotted to assassinate King George I. Executed 17th March,
1718
This trial is a very singular case of treason, and may be considered as an
appendix to our history of the rebellion. Though the crime for which he was executed,
was committed three years after it was quelled, yet the same misjudged opinion urged
this youth to enthusiasm in the cause of the Pretender. It is still more singular, that he,
neither being a Scotchman born, or in any way interested in the mischiefs which he
contemplated, should, unsolicited, volunteer in so dangerous a cause. Whence, when
first apprehended, many were of opinion that he was disordered in the brain; but the
firmness of his demeanour, during his imprisonment and trial, removed these doubts.
James Sheppard was the son of Thomas Sheppard, a 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 Mitcham, in Surrey,
and afterwards to Salisbury, where he remained at school three years. Being at
Salisbury at the time of the rebellion, he imbibed the principles of his schoolfellows,
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, near Bishopsgate; and he continued in this
situation about fourteen months, when he was apprehended for the fact which cost
him his life.
Sheppard having conceived the idea that it would be a praise-worthy 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 Reverend Mr. Heath." This
letter, a copy of which follows, he carried to Mr. Leake's house.
"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 intrust one so young with letters of invitation to his majesty, I will, on his arrival,
smite the usurper in his palace. In this confusion, it 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
gentleman who defrays 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."
Mr. Leake was absent when this letter arrived, but on his return he read it; on
which he said to his daughter and maid-servant, that it was a most villainous letter,
and not fit to be kept; and, in the height of his resentment, he threw it into the fire, and
went up into his study; but coming down soon afterwards, his daughter told him that
she had recollected that the boy who had brought the letter, said he would call for an
answer on the following Monday.
Hereupon Mr. Leake determined to make the affair known to Sir John Fryer, a
neighbouring magistrate, which he did the following morning; when Sir John advised
him to take the party into custody when he should return for the answer. Sheppard
came at the time, that he had promised, when Mr. Leake sent for a constable, and had
him apprehended.
Being carried before Sir John Fryer, he was asked if he had delivered a letter
at Mr. Leake's on the preceding Friday, directed to the Rev. Mr. Heath. He answered
in the affirmative: and being asked if he had a copy of that letter, he said he had no
copy about him, but he believed he could remember it, so as to write a copy. This
being done, and he having deliberately read and signed what he had written, was
committed to the Compter.
Three gentlemen were now sent to the house of the prisoner's master, and
being shewn his trunk, they found, among some other papers, a copy of the letter he
had left at Mr. Leake's, which differed very little from that written at Sir John Fryer's,
only that these words were added: "How meritorious an act will it be to free these
nations from an usurpation that they have lain under these nine and twenty years;" and
it was insinuated that he thought it requisite, that while his majesty (the Pretender)
should be absent from Avignon, "some person should be found resembling him, that
should personate him there, lest the rumour of his departure from Avignon should
awaken this inquisitive and suspicious court."
Soon after Sheppard's commitment, he was twice examined at the office of
Lord Sunderland, then Secretary of State when he attempted to justify his conduct,
and readily signed what he had before written.
When he was brought to his trial, he behaved in the most firm and composed
manner; and after the evidence against him was given, and the jury had brought him
in 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." Then the recorder proceeded to past sentence on him, which he
prefaced with the following most pathetic speech.
"James Sheppard, you are convicted according to law of the greatest offence
against human authority, high treason, in compassing and imagining the death of the
king. Your intent was to kill, to murder, and basely assassinate his Majesty King
George, in order to place a Popish Pretender on his throne.
"It is very surprising, that one so young in years should attempt so wicked an
enterprise; and it is more amazing that you should still thus defend and justify it, and
not only think that there is no harm in it, but that the action, if committed, would have
been meritorious.
"It was reasonable to think that you had received those impressions which
incited you to this undertaking, from some of those false and malicious libels which
have been industriously dispersed, to delude unwary readers, and to alienate the minds
of his majesty's subjects; and it appears to be so from your own confession, that you
had imbibed your principles from sermons and pamphlets, which make you think
King George an usurper, and the pretender your lawful king.
"Consider, unhappy young man, whether you may not be in an error; and
what, I now suggest to you is not to reproach you, or to aggravate your crime, but
proceeds from compassion, and, with a regard to your further consideration before
you go out of the world; that you may be convinced of your error, and retract it.
"The notions you entertain are contrary to the sense of the nation, who found,
by experience, that their religion, their laws, and liberties, were in imminent danger
from a popish prince, and, therefore they rescued themselves from that danger, and
excluded papists for the future from the crown; and settled on his majesty and his
heirs, being protestants; which has been confirmed by many parliaments, and the
nation feels the good effects of so happy an establishment.
It seems strange that you should hint at a passage in St. Paul for your
justification. If he exhorted the Christians to submit to the Roman emperors, even
though they should be tyrants, how comes it that you, private youth, should not only
judge of the title of kings, in opposition to the sense. of so many parliaments; but that
you should, think yourself authorised to murder a prince in peaceable possession of
the throne, and by whom his subjects are protected in the enjoyment of all their rights
and privileges, and of every thing that is dear and valuable to mankind.
"You mention in your papers as if you must expect the most cruel tortures. No,
unfortunate youth, the king you will not own, uses no cruel tortures to his subjects. He
is king according to the laws of the land, and by them he governs. And as you have
transgressed those laws in the highest degree, the public justice requires that you
should submit to the Sentence ordained for such an offender, which is "That you be
led from hence to the place from whence you came; from thence you are to be drawn
upon a hurdle to the place of execution, and there you are to be hanged by the neck,
and, being alive; to be cut down, your bowels to be taken out of your belly, and there
burnt, you being alive; your head is to be cut off, and your body to be divided into
four quarters, and your head and quarters to be disposed of as his majesty shall think
fit. And God Almighty have mercy on your soul."
After sentence was passed, Sheppard confessed that the reading some
sermons, and other pamphlets, had induced him to think that it would be a meritorious
act to kill the king; and that he was convinced he was the agent destined by
Providence to accomplish the deed. — The ordinary of Newgate told him, that he
should have prayed that such wicked sentiments might be removed from his mind. His
reply was, that "he had prayed; and that in proportion as he prayed, he was so much
the more encouraged and confirmed in the lawfulness of his design."
The unhappy youth was now visited by a nonjuring clergyman, between whom
and the ordinary there were repeated quarrels, which continued almost to the last
moments of Sheppard's life; for they wrangled even at the place of execution, nor did
the debate cease till the ordinary quitted the cart, and left the other to instruct and pray
with the malefactor as he thought proper.
Sheppard was executed a few hours after the marquis of Paleotti.
JOHN PRICE, COMMONLY CALLED JACK KETCH
A Rogue and Liar, who was not believed when he spoke the Truth. He held
the Office of Common Hangman, and was himself hanged in Bunhill Fields
in May, 1718, for murdering a Woman
Jack Ketch arrested while attending a malefactor to the place of execution
THIS criminal first drew his breath in the fog-end of the suburbs of London,
and, like Mercury, became a thief as soon as ever he peeped out of the shell. Fortune
having reduced his miserable parents to such extremity that they could not bestow on
this their son any education, it was his misfortune to improve himself in all manner of
wickedness before he had turned seven. So prone was he to vice, that as soon as he
could speak he would curse and swear with as great a passion and vileness as is
frequently heard round any gaming-table. Moreover, to this unprofitable talent of
profaneness he added that of lying.
When John Price was about eighteen years of age, a gentleman with whom he
lived in the country turned him out of his service purely on account of his excessive
lying; when, going towards London, and robbing a market-woman of about eighteen
shillings, near Brentwood, in Essex, he was taken by some travellers coming suddenly
on him in the fact, and committed by a magistrate to Chelmsford Jail, and pleading
guilty at the assizes he received sentence of death. But his late master, being then
High Sheriff of the county of Essex, and taking compassion on his servant's
misfortunes, did not permit his sentence to be put into force against him. The sheriff
said he knew the fellow to be such an unaccountable liar that there was no believing
one word he said; so his pleading guilty to what was laid to his charge was, in his
opinion, an eminent sign he ought to be believed innocent of the fact, and he would
not be guilty of hanging an innocent man for the world. Soon after this escape John
Price made the best of his way to London, where he associated himself with a tribe of
pickpockets and gipsies, with whom he ran up and down the country, frequenting all
fairs and concourses of people, till he was caught diving into a pocket that was not his
own, and committed to Newgate, in Bristol. Being there severely whipped for his
fault, he went on board a merchant ship, and afterwards served in two men-of-war;
but not forbearing to pilfer from the seamen, after having been whipped at a gun,
pickled with brine, and keel-hauled, he was discharged. Coming ashore at Portsmouth,
he got to beloved London again, where he would not hearken to any wholesome
counsel, but resolved to break through all virtuous sentiments, and wholly betake
himself to all manner of wickedness. Entering himself into a gang of footpads, they
one night divided themselves into three bands, and an attorney then falling into their
hands near Hampstead, his money they demanded, with a thousand oaths and curses.
According to their demand he gave them what money he had about him, which was
eight guineas, rejoicing howsoever that he had now passed, as he thought, all danger,
when lo! suddenly, as he came up to the halfway house betwixt that place and
London, he was again surrounded with a second band of these rogues, who went to
him and demanded whence he came and where he was going. He related his piteous
adventure, and into what cruel hands he had fallen. "Cruel!" answered one of the
gang. "How durst you use these terms! And who made you so bold as to talk to us
with your hat on? Pray, sir, be pleased henceforward to learn more manners." Saying
which, they snatched his hat and wig off his head, and took a diamond ring off his
finger, in all to the value of fifteen pounds. What could our poor lawyer now do? To
turn back again was to leap out of the frying-pan into the fire, wherefore he faintly
went on, when scarcely had he got past Kentish Town but the third band, who lay as
sentinels in this place, made up to him, bringing along with them a man who had not a
rag of clothes on his back — not so much as a shirt — a dreadful thing, considering
the time of the year, it being then in the depth of winter. "Sir," said Price (who was in
this parley), "you'll do a charitable deed to let this poor wretch, whom we have just
now stripped, have your upper coat, or rather both upper and under, for you see he is
almost dead with cold." The lawyer would willingly have pleaded that charity begins
at home, and that every man is bound by the laws of nature to conserve his own being
rather than another's. But alas! his judges were other kind of men than to be moved by
the laws of the land or nature either; wherefore they took from him both his coats and
his waistcoat, telling him it was a favour that they took not from him his life also,
seeing he had made so much bad use of it.
Being at last committed to Newgate for petty larceny, he was only whipped at
the cart's tail, and upon paying his fees obtained his liberty again. Afterwards
endeavouring to mend his fortune by marriage, he entered into the state of matrimony
with a young woman called Betty, whose employment was to attend daily at the jail of
Newgate and run prisoners' errands. By this means and his own good behaviour he
quickly raised himself to preferment, for he was made hangman for the county of
Middlesex. But the first day he officiated at the sessions at the Old Bailey, going to
the Blue Boar ale-house, situated not far from Justice Hall, it was his misfortune to
have his burning irons picked out of his pocket, for which he was forced to pawn his
waistcoat to have them back again. However, he soon retrieved this loss, for what
with slightly putting a "T," which was the only letter he knew in the whole alphabet,
on a thief's hand, and correcting others with a gentle lash, he redeemed his waistcoat,
and bought a shirt into the bargain. Moreover, at the first cast of his office he
performed at Tyburn he made as much off the executed person's clothes among the
brokers in Monmouth Street and Chick Lane as procured him several drunken bouts.
Though he was bad enough in many things, yet he had one good principle in
him while he was hangman, for let him be owing money to anybody, if he could not
pay them he was very willing to work it out whenever they pleased — a principle
indeed which every rogue is not endowed with. Whilst he was in this post he took
upon him a great deal of state, and on every execution day he had as great a levee as
some persons of quality, being attended on by broom-men for old hats, periwig-
makers for old wigs, brokers for old coats, suits and cloaks, and cobblers for old
shoes. Indeed he was a man in every way qualified for this station, for he had
impudence in abundance, cruelty at his finger-ends, drunkenness to perfection, and
could swear as well without book as within. However, these natural parts could not
protect him, for several envying his felicity, they endeavoured to lower his top-sail,
and at last blew him out of the haven of his reputable business by his manifold
failings.
Some were glad he was to catch nobody any more at Hyde Park Corner, and
others as sorry, especially those whom he had often obliged with an old shirt or a
handkerchief; and indeed that which most troubled him for the loss of his place was
only that he could not any more send men out of the world without being called to an
account for it. Now he was left to shift for himself again; and indeed, so long as he
had any fingers he could make as good a shift as anybody, for there was nothing,
except it lay out of his reach, but what he made his own.
What brought him to his end was his going one night over Bunhill Fields in
his drunken airs, when he met an old woman named Elizabeth White, a watchman's
wife, who sold pastry-ware about the streets. He violently assaulted her in a barbarous
manner, almost knocking one of her eyes out of her head, giving her several bruises
about her body, breaking one of her legs, and wounding her in the belly. Whilst he
was acting this inhumanity two men came along at the same time, and hearing
dreadful groans supposed somebody was in distress, and having the courage to pursue
the sound as well as they could, at last came up to the distressed woman, which made
Price damn them for their impudence. However they secured him, and brought him to
the watch-house in Old Street, from whence a couple of watchmen were sent to fetch
the old woman out of Bunhill Fields, who within a day or two died, under the
surgeon's hands.
Price was sent to Newgate, where he seemed to be under a great surprise and
concern for the death of the woman, till, being tried and condemned for her, he was no
sooner confined in the condemned hold, than laying aside all thoughts of preparing
himself for his latter end, he appeared quite void of all grace; and instead of repenting
for his manifold sins and transgressions, he would daily go up to chapel intoxicated
with cursed Geneva, comforting himself even to the very last that he should fare as
well in a future state as those who had gone the same way before him. At length the
fatal day came wherein he was to bid adieu to the world, which was on Saturday, the
31st of May, 1718. As he was riding in the cart he several times pulled a bottle of
Geneva out of his pocket to drink before he came to the place of execution, which was
in Bunhill Fields, where he committed the murder. Having arrived at the fatal tree, he
was, upon Mr. Ordinary's examination, found so ignorant on the ground of religion he
troubled himself not much about it; but valuing himself upon his former profession of
being hangman, styled himself finisher of the law, and so was turned off the gibbet,
aged upwards of forty years.
One would imagine that the dreadful scenes of calamity to which this man had
been witness, if they had not taught him humanity, would at least have given him
wisdom enough not to have perpetrated a crime that must necessarily bring him to a
similarly fatal end to what he had so often seen of others: but perhaps his profession
tended rather to harden his mind than otherwise.
The murder of which Price was guilty appears to have been one of the most
barbarous and unprovoked we ever remember to have read of: and his pretence that he
was drunk when he perpetrated it was no sort of excuse; since drunkenness itself is a
crime, and one which frequently leads to the commission of others.
The lesson to be learnt from the fate of this man is to moderate our passions of
every kind; and to live by the rules of temperance and sobriety. We are told, from the
best authority, that "hands that shed innocent blood are an abomination to the Lord."
JAMES FILEWOOD ALIAS VILET
Convicted of picking Pockets, and sentenced to Death. Executed at Tyburn
in October, 1718
THIS fellow was often called Vilet, though Filewood was his right name. He
was born in the parish of St Peter's, Cornhill. His father was a poulterer, which
occupation he, and two or three other brothers, pretended originally to follow; but,
finding that the fiddling work of scalding, picking and gutting cocks and hens and
other poultry was not so beneficial as picking pockets, they took up that employment,
knowing there was their ready money as soon as they had done their work.
As soon as he had listed himself under the banners of wickedness he first went
a-clouting — that is, picking handkerchiefs out of pockets — in which having pretty
well improved himself, often after being ducked in a horse-pond, or pumped, he next
ventured to pick pockets and fobs of money and watches. To which purpose he always
gave his constant attendance at the King's going to the Parliament House, the Lord
Mayor's Show, the artillery-men making a mock fight, entries of ambassadors,
Bartholomew and Southwark Fairs, Drury Lane and Lincoln's Inn playhouses, or any
other place where a great concourse of people were drawn together upon any
occasion; and to be sure he never missed going on Sundays to church, though it was
more to serve the devil than that omnipotent Majesty to whose honour and glory the
house of prayer is erected; and here he would, as well as pick pockets, change an old
hat or two for a new one.
One day this Vilet, meeting with another of his own profession, named Clark
— "Come, Clark," quoth he, "since we have so happily stumbled upon one another,
let us take a pint together." "A match," says the other; so they went into a tavern in
Holborn. Having drunk a bout for a while, when they came to examine their pockets
they found them- selves deceived, one thinking the one had, and the other thinking the
other had, money enough to defray the reckoning, when indeed both of them could
not make above a groat. "Hang it, then," said the inviter, "we had as good be in for a
great deal as a little." So they called lustily till it came to five or six shillings; then,
looking out of the window, as if they had been viewing the descent, says one to the
other: "I have it now." Upon that, knocking, and desiring to speak with the master, up
he came. "Sir," says Vilet, "we came hither about a mathematical business — to
measure from your window to the ground. I have laid upon thirteen feet, my friend on
thirteen feet nine inches; and you are to be judge that I slip not this line" (which was
packthread upon a piece of brass, which joiners and carpenters use in mensuration)
"till he goes down to see whether from this knot" (showing it him), "which is just so
much, it reaches to the ground." The vintner was content. The other sharper, being
below in the street, cried it did not reach by eleven inches. "Pray, sir," said Vilet to the
vintner, "hold it here till I step down and see, for I won't believe him." So down he
went, telling the drawer he had paid his master, and away they both scoured, leaving
the string for the reckoning.
He was at length taken in picking a pocket, and though the value he took from
the person did not come to ten shillings, yet he was convicted thereof; and likewise
upon another indictment preferred against him by Mrs Frances Baldock, for snatching
from her a pocket valued at one shilling, and in which were twelve guineas and two
pistoles, For these facts he received sentence of death at Justice Hall, in the Old
Bailey; and accordingly, on the 31st of October, 1718, he took shipping at Newgate,
sailed with a fair wind up Holborn river, and striking against the rock of St Giles's'
was cast away at Tyburn in the twenty-seventh year of his age.
CATHERINE JONES
Tried for Bigamy
CATHERINE JONES was indicted at the Old Bailey, on the 5th of September,
1719, for marrying Constantine Boone, during the life of her former husband, John
Rowland.
Proof was made that she was married to Rowland, in the year 1713, at a house
in the Mint, Southwark; and that, six years afterwards, while her husband was abroad,
she was again married, in the same house, to Constantine Boone; but Rowland, soon
returning to England, caused his wife to be indicted for this crime.
The prisoner did not hesitate to acknowledge the double marriage, but insisted
that the latter was illegal, as Boone was an hermaphrodite, and had been shown as
such at Southwark and Bartholomew fairs, and at other places.
To prove this a person swore that he knew Boone when a child, that his (or
her) mother dressed it in girl's apparel, and caused it to be instructed in needle-work,
till it had attained the age of twelve years, when it turned man, and went to sea.
These last words were those of the disposition; and the fact was confirmed by
Boone, who appeared in Court, acknowledged being an hermaphrodite, and having
been publicly shown in that character.
Other witnesses deposed that the female sex prevailed over that of the male in
the party in question; on which the jury acquitted the prisoner.
It is impossible to describe how much this affair was the subject of the public
conversation at, and long after, the time that it happened: and it would be idle to make
any serious remarks on it. We can only express our astonishment that an
hermaphrodite should think of such a glaring absurdity as the taking of a wife!
LIEUTENANT EDWARD BIRD
Took a Pinch of Snuff just before his Execution at Tyburn, on 23rd of
February, 1719, for murdering a Waiter
MR BIRD was born at Windsor, in Berkshire, and descended of respectable
parents, who having first sent him to Westminster School, then removed him to Eton
College. When he had finished his studies he was sent to make the tour of France and
Italy, and on his return to England was honoured with the commission of a lieutenant
in a regiment of horse.
Before he had been long in the army he began to associate with abandoned
company of both sexes, which finally led to the commission of the crime which cost
him his life. On the 10th of January, 1719, he was indicted at the Old Bailey for the
murder of Samuel Loxton. It appeared on his trial that he had taken a woman of the
town to a house of ill fame in Silver Street, where Loxton was a waiter. Early in the
morning he ordered a bath to be got ready, but Loxton, being busy, sent another
waiter, at whom Bird, in a fit of passion, made several passes with his sword, which
he avoided by holding the door in his hand; but the prisoner ran after him, threw him
downstairs, and broke some of his ribs. On this the master and mistress of the house
and Loxton went into the room and attempted to appease him; but Bird, enraged that
the bath had not been prepared the moment he ordered it, seized his sword, which lay
by the bedside, and stabbed Loxton, who fell backwards and died immediately; on
which the offender was taken into custody and committed to Newgate.
Being convicted on the clearest evidence, he received sentence of death, and
was ordered for execution on Monday, the 23rd of February. On the night preceding
his execution he took a dose of poison, but that not operating, as he had expected, he
stabbed himself in several places. Yet, however, he lived till the morning, when he
was taken to Tyburn in a mourning coach, attended by his mother and the ordinary of
Newgate. Being indulged to stay an hour in the coach with his mother, he was put into
the cart, where he asked for a glass of wine; but being told it could not be had, he
begged a pinch of snuff, which he took with apparent unconcern, wishing health to
those who stood near him. He then rehearsed the Apostles' Creed, and, being tied up,
was launched into eternity on the 23rd of February, 1719, in the twenty-seventh year
of his age.
MARK ANTHONY DE LA PORTE
A Catholic priest, sentenced to life imprisonment for performing a Catholic
marriage, 4th March 1719
Mark Anthony de la Porte of St Anne's, Westminster, was indicted on March
4, 1719 for a misdemeanour in that he being a popish priest did exercise part of his
function here in the parish of St Anns, Westminster by marrying James de Fleury to
Barbara de la Gard according to the rites of the Church of Rome contrary to the
statute of W. III. for preventing the growth of Popery.
James de Fleury deposed, that the prisoner told them he was a priest of the
Church of Rome and that he married him to Barbara de la Gard on 10th June; that he
gave him a certificate signed with his own hand and witnessed by several others.
Roney de la Fontaine and Jane de la Fontaine deposed that they were present
at the marriage, saw the priest performing his office, and sign the certificate, and that
they witnessed it themselves.
Mary Evans deposed that she was present, but did not understand French nor
Latin, that she saw the form of a marriage ceremony of the ring, joining of hands, &c.
and witnessed the certificate.
The certificate being proved, was read in court, wherein the prisoner asserts
himself to be a Roman priest according to the rites of the Church of Rome, and
mentions what Romish bishop he received orders from.
The jury found him guilty; and he was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment in
such place or places within the kingdom as his Majesty, by the advice of his privy
council should appoint.
NICHOLAS HORNER
A Minister's Son who turned Highwayman, and was executed 3rd of April,
1719
THIS unhappy wretch was the younger son of the minister of Honiton, in
Devonshire, and was a very wild untoward child even from infancy. However, his
indulgent father, in order to provide for him, bestowed as much learning upon him as
qualified him to be clerk to an attorney in Lion's Inn, in Holywell street, at the end of
the New Church in the Strand; but he soon falling into extravagant company, and
addicting himself very much to drunkenness and whoredom, ran away from his master
before he had served him three years, and betook himself to the highway in order to
support himself in the pursuit of those vices. He had such ill luck, nevertheless, in his
new profession, as to be taken in the very first robbery he attempted to commit, and
accordingly he was sent to Winchester Jail where he remained confined for three
months before he was brought to trial and condemned. However, his father made such
interest for him at Court that Queen Anne, who was always known to have a great
veneration for the clergy, in consideration of his father's being one of that order, was
prevailed upon to grant him a pardon, upon condition of his being transported out of
her Majesty's dominions, and not settling in any part of Europe for the term of seven
years, within six months after his going out of jail.
During the time of the six months which he was allowed to remain in his
native country, great interest was also made again to get him off with his
transportation; but that favour not being obtained, his father sent him to Varujayati, in
the mission of Madure, on the coast of Coromandel, in the East Indies. In this country
the natives still retain that barbarous and inhuman custom of obliging women of an
exalted station to burn themselves with the bodies of their deceased husbands.
Accordingly, Horner happening to carry with him a wife, an Englishwoman, who was
a great beauty, she was taken from him and married to an Indian prince, at whose
death she suffered in the manner aforesaid. After the expiration of the term of seven
years, for which he was transported, he came back to England, when, his father and
mother being both dead, he received from their executors five hundred pounds, which
his parents had bequeathed to him in case he was alive and returned home in such a
limited time from the making of the will. But the abandoned reprobate, not forgetting
his former extravagances, nor taking warning by his past sufferings, soon consumed
all this money, and he had again recourse to the highway.
One day, being upon his rambles in quest of prey, and coming up with a rich
farmer — "Well overtaken, friend," said Horner; "methinks you look melancholy:
pray what may be your affliction? If you are under any misfortunes by crosses and
losses in the world, perhaps it may be in my power to relieve you." The farmer very
frankly replied: "Ah! dear sir, were I to say that I have had any losses in the world, I
should be telling a great lie; for I have been a thriving man all my lifetime, and should
want for nothing had I but content. But indeed I have crosses enough, through a
damned scolding wife at home, who, though I am the best of husbands to her, and
daily do my utmost endeavour to make her and my children happy, yet is she always
raving and scolding about the house like a madwoman, insomuch that I am daily
teased out of my life. Nay, if there's any such thing as perpetual motion, as some
virtuosos affirm, I am sure it is in my wife's tongue; for it never lies still from
morning till night. Nay, scolding is become so habitual to her that she cannot forbear
it even in her sleep. Wherefore, could any man tell me a remedy that would cure it, I
have a hundred pounds about me in gold and silver which I would freely give him
with all my heart for so great a benefit as I should receive by taming this confounded
shrew."
At the mention of the agreeable name of a hundred pounds Horner pricked up
both his ears and answered: "Sir, I will first tell you the ingredients which enter into
the composition of a scold, and the cause of a distemper being truly known, 'twill be
the more easy to complete the cure. You must understand, then, that Nature, in
making an arrant scold, first took of the tongues and galls of bulls, bears, wolves,
magpies, parrots, cuckoos and nightingales, each a like number; the tongues and tails
of vipers, adders, snails and lizards, six apiece; aurum fulminans, aqua fortis and
gunpowder, of each one pound; the clappers of seventeen bells and the pestles of
thirty apothecaries' mortars. These being all mixed together, she calcined them in
Mount Strombolo, and dissolved the ashes in water taken just under London Bridge at
three-quarters' flood; she then filtrated the whole through the leaves of Calepine's
Dictionary, to render the operation more verbose, after which she distilled it a second
time through a speaking trumpet, and closed up the remaining spirits in the mouth of a
cannon.
"Then she opened the graves of all newly deceased pettifoggers, mountebanks,
barbers, coffee-men, newsmongers and fishwives from Billingsgate, and with the skin
of their tongues made a bladder, which she covered over drum-heads, and filled with
storms, tempests, whirlwinds, thunder and lightning; and in the last place, to make the
whole composition the more churlish, she cut a vein under the tongue of the dog-star,
extracting from thence a pound of the most choleric blood, and then, sublimating the
spirits, she mixed them up with the foam of a mad dog, and putting all together in the
fore-mentioned bladder stitched them up therein with the nerves of Socrates' wife."
"A damned compound indeed this is," rejoined the farmer. "Surely it must be
impossible at this rate for any man to tame a scold." "Not at all," continued Horner;
"for when she first begins to be in her fits, which you may perceive by the bending of
her brows, then apply to her a plaster of good words; after that give her a wheedling
potion, and if that will not do, take a birch rod and apply the same with a strong arm
from shoulder to flank, according to art; that will infallibly complete the cure." The
farmer, being very well pleased with the prescription, not only gave Horner many
thanks, but a good treat at the next inn they came to. Afterwards they rode on together
again, and when they came to a convenient place, said Horner: "Will you be pleased
to pay me now, sir, for the good advice I have given you?" "I thought, sir," answered
the farmer, "that the treat I gave you in return was sufficient satisfaction." "No, sir,"
quoth Horner, "you promised a hundred pounds, and, d —n me, sir," continued he,
presenting a pistol to his breast, "deliver your bag this instant, or you are a dead man."
At this rough compliment the farmer delivered it to him; but not without a hearty
curse or two, and swearing withal that his wife should pay dearly for it the first time
he tried the experiment of the birch rod upon her.
Not long after this exploit Horner met with a gentleman upon Hounslow
Heath, whom he saluted with the terrifying words: "Stand and deliver." Whereupon
the person assaulted gave him what money he had about him, amounting to about six
guineas, and said to him: "Truly, sir, you love money better than I do, to venture your
neck for it." "I only follow the general way of the world, sir," quoth Horner, which
now prefers money before either friends or honesty, yea, some before the salvation of
their souls; for it is the love of gold that makes an unjust judge take a bribe; a corrupt
lawyer plead a wrong cause in defiance of truth and justice; a physician kill a man
whom he pretends to cure, without fear of hanging; a surgeon keep a patient long in
hand, by laying on one plaster to heal, and two to draw his wound. 'Tis gold that
makes the tradesman tell every day a thousand lies behind the counter, in putting off
his bad wares; 'tis that makes the butcher blow his veal, the tailor covet so much
cabbage, the miller take toll twice, the baker wear a wooden cravat, and the
shoemaker stretch his leather as he does his conscience. In short, 'tis that makes
gentlemen of the pad, as I am, wear a Tyburn tippet, or old Storey's cap, on some
country gallows, which all of our noble profession value no more than you, sir, do the
losing of this small trifle of six guineas." Next day Horner overtook, beyond
Maidenhead Thicket, a young man and a young woman who were going to be married
at Henley-upon-Thames, with a couple of bridesmen and bridesmaids.
These he presently attacked, which put the young people into the utmost
consternation, especially the intended bride-groom, who told Horner upon what
design they were going, and added that he would prevent their marriage, at least that
day, if he took their money from them. But he was inexorable and deaf to all their
entreaties, and immediately stripped them of every farthing of their coin, to the value
of twenty guineas, to the no small mortification of the young couple.
However the ill-natured rogue, not satisfied therewith, demanded also the
wedding-ring, for which the intended bridegroom entreated him yet more earnestly
than for his money; but Horner being resolutely bent upon having it, they delivered it
to him; whereupon he said: "You foolish young devils, do you know what you are
going about? Are you voluntarily going to precipitate yourselves into inevitable ruin
and destruction, by running your heads into the matrimonial noose with your eyes
open? Do you know it is an apprenticeship for life, and a hard one too? You had better
be ruled by me, and take one another's words; and if you do, you'll find in taking my
counsel that it is the best day's work you ever did since the hour of your birth."
Not long after this exploit a lady of distinction, being alone in the stage-coach
that goes between Colchester and London, was informed by the coachman, as they
were coming by Braintree, in Essex, that if her ladyship had any things of value about
her, it would be her best way to secure them as well as she could, for he saw several
suspicious fellows scouting up and down the heath, whom he mistrusted to be
highwaymen. Upon this caution the lady put her gold watch, a purse of guineas and a
very fine suit of laced head-cloths under her seat. This done she dishevelled her hair
in a very uncouth manner all over her head and shoulders, by which time Horner had
ridden up to her, and presenting a pistol into the coach demanded her money.
Hereupon the lady, who was a very fine woman, having great presence of
mind, bethought herself of acting the part of a lunatic, which she did to the life, for
opening the coach door and leaping out, and taking Horner by one of his legs, she
shrieked out in a most piteous and lamentable shrill voice: "Ah! dear Cousin Tom, I
am glad to see you. I hope you will now rescue me from this rogue of a coachman,
who is carrying me, by that villain my husband's order, to Bedlam for a madwoman."
"D —- me," replied Horner, "I am none of your cousin; I don't know you. I believe
you are mad indeed, so Bedlam is the fittest place for you." "Ah! Cousin Tom," said
the lady again, "but I will go along with you; I won't go to Bedlam." She then clung
close to Horner and his horse, and counterfeited lunacy with such dexterity that he
really thought it natural, and asked the coachman: "Do you know this mad b —h?
"Yes," replied the coachman, "I know the lady very well she is sadly distracted, for
she has torn her head-cloths all to pieces and thrown them away as we came along;
and I am now going with her by her husband's orders to London, to put her into a
madhouse, where she may be cured; but not into Bedlam, as she supposes." "E'en take
her then along with you to the devil, if you will," said Horner in a passion, "for I
thought to have met with a good purchase, and I find now there is nothing to be got of
this mad toad." So he set spurs to his horse and rode away as fast as he could, for fear
of being plagued any more with her, for she seemed mighty fond of her cousin, and
ran a good way after him; but after he was gone out of sight she was better pleased
with his absence than his company, and got safe to London.
When attempting to rob a couple of gentlemen in Devonshire Horner was
taken, and committed to Southgate, in Exeter; and receiving sentence of death he was
hanged, on Friday, 3rd of April, 1719, aged thirty-two years.
THOMAS BUTLER, Esq.
Highwayman, executed at Tyburn, on the 8th Of February 1720.
IDLENESS, the step-mother of dissipation, hath driven many gentlemen by
education, to commit depredations on the public. This observation is fully verified in
the life of Mr. Butler. He was a native of Ireland, his father being, an officer in the
army of king James the II; but king William having defeated that prince at the battle
of the Boyne, young Butler and his father went with James to France. When the
rebellion broke out in Scotland the young gentleman was employed as a spy in the
family of the duke of Ormond, for which he was allowed 20l. a year; but he hereby
lost the favour of his friends and relations, who espoused a different interest. From
Paris he went to Holland, where he soon spent most of the money in his possession,
and then embarked for England.
On his arrival in this country, being idle and extravagant, he commenced
highwayman, and went out frequently in company with a man whom he called Jack,
and who occasionally acted as his servant; and they jointly committed a great number
of robberies near London, particularly in Kent and Essex.
When they were in London; and sometimes in a country town, they had the
genteelest lodging, and then Jack wore a livery, while the 'squire was dressed in a
most elegant manner, and had all the appearance of a man of fortune.
By this style of living they continued their depredations on the highway for
many years; but Butler being at length apprehended, was brought to his trial at the Old
Bailey, in January, 1720, when he was indicted for robbing Sir Justinian Isham and
another gentleman on the highway, of a gold watch, a silk night-gown, six Holland
shirts, and other valuable articles; and was convicted on the clearest evidence.
The circumstance that led to his detection was, that offering some of the
effects for sale to a jeweller, he refused to purchase them unless he knew Butler's
place of residence, which the latter readily told him; and, when his lodgings were
searched, Sir Justinian's gown was found, and was produced in court. Butler's
companion, or servant, was in Ireland, at the time of his detection, by which he
escaped the fate he deserved.
While Mr. Butler lay under sentence of death, he behaved in a very penitent
manner. Being a Roman Catholic, he received the sacrament from a priest of his own
persuasion. It had been reported that he had eight wives; but this he solemnly denied;
declaring that he was legally married to only one woman.
This malefactor was executed at Tyburn, on the 8th of February, 1720, at the
age of forty-two years.
BARBARA SPENCER
Executed at Tyburn on the 5th of July, 1721, for Coining. She was probably
the first Woman to suffer the Death Penalty for what was regarded as
Treason
BARBARA SPENCER was born in the parish of St Giles without Cripplegate,
and when young proved to be of a violent temper. At length her mother, finding her
quite unmanageable at home, put her apprentice to a mantua-maker, who, having
known her from a child, treated her with great kindness.
Barbara had served about two years, when on a dispute with her mistress she
went home to her mother, with whom she had not long resided before she insisted on
having a maid kept, to which the old woman consented, A quarrel soon happening
between Barbara and the maid, the mother interposed; on which the daughter left her
for a time, but soon returned again.
Not long after this it happened that some malefactors were to be executed at
Tyburn, and Barbara insisted on going to see the execution. This was prudently
opposed by her mother, who, struggling to keep her at home, struck her; but the
daughter, getting out of the house, went to a female acquaintance, who accompanied
her to Tyburn, and thence to a house near St Giles's Pound, where Barbara made a
vow that she would never again return to her mother. In this fatal resolution she was
encouraged by the company present, who persuaded her to believe that she might live
in an easy manner if she would but follow their way of life. To this she readily agreed;
and as they were coiners, they employed her in uttering counterfeit money, for which
she was detected, tried, fined and imprisoned.
Not taking warning by what had happened, she returned to her old
connections, commenced coiner herself, and was at length convicted of the crime for
which she suffered. While under sentence of death she 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, and was probably the first woman to suffer this
punishment for coining, which was then regarded as a treason.
The unhappy fate of this woman seems to have been occasioned by the
violence of her temper, and a want of duty to her mother. Hence let all young people
learn to keep their passions in subjection, and to remember the injunction in the fifth
commandment; 'Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the
land which the Lord thy God giveth thee:' for surely no crime is more likely to lead to
destruction than that of disobedience to parents. It is the inlet to every other vice, and
the source of a thousand calamities.
Let children that would fear the Lord
Hear what their teachers say;
'With rev'rence meet their parents word,
And with delight obey.
For those who worship God, and give
Their parents honour due,
Here on this earth they long shall live,
And live hereafter too.
MATTHEW CLARKE
Executed for murder, 28th July, 1721
Clarke cutting the servant girl's throat while kissing her
THIS offender was the son of poor persons at St. Albans, and brought up as a
plough-boy; but, being too idle to follow his business, be sauntered about the country,
and committed frequent robberies, spending among women the money he obtained in
this illegal manner.
Clarke had art enough to engage the affections of a number of young women,
to some of whom he promised marriage; and he seems to have intended to have kept
his word with one of them, and went with her to London to tie the nuptial knot; but,
going into a goldsmith's shop to buy the ring, he said he had forgot to supply himself
with money, but would go into the country and fetch it.
The young woman staid in town while he went to Wilsden Green, with a view
to commit a robbery, that he might replenish his pocket. As it was now the season of
hay-making, he met a man, who, wondering that he should be idle, gave him
employment. Besides the business of farming, his employer kept a public house, and
had a servant maid, whom Clarke had formerly courted.
The villain, leaving his fellow-labourers in the field, went to the house, and,
finding only the girl at home, conversed with her some time; but, having determined
to rob his employer, he thought he could not do it securely without murdering her;
and, while she was gone to draw him some beer, he pulled out his knife for this horrid
purpose; and, when she entered the room, he got up to kiss her, thinking to have then
perpetrated the deed, but his conscience prevented him: on this he sat down, and
talked with her some time longer; when he got up, and, again kissing her, cut her
throat in the same instant.
Hereupon she fell down, and attempted to crawl to the door, while the blood
streamed from her throat; on which the villain cut her neck to the bone, and, robbing
the house of a small sum, ran off towards London, under all the agonizing tortures of
a wounded conscience.
Tyburn being in his way to town, he was so terrified at the sight of the
gallows, that he went back a considerable distance, till, meeting a waggon, he offered
his service in driving, thinking that his being in employment might prevent his being
suspected in case of a pursuit. But he had not gone far before some persons rode up,
and asked him if he had seen a man who might be suspected of a murder. He seemed
so terrified by the question that the parties could not help noticing his agitation, and,
on a close inspection, they found some congealed blood on his clothes, to account for
which be said be had quarrelled and fought with a soldier on the road.
Being taken into custody, be soon acknowledged his crime, and, being carried
before a magistrate, he was committed to Newgate; and, when brought to trial, he
pleaded guilty: in consequence of which he was executed at Tyburn on the 28th of
July, 1721, and then hung in chains near the spot where be committed the murder.
There is something dreadfully enormous in the crime for which this man
suffered. When under sentence of death he was one of the most miserable wretches
that ever endured a situation so calamitous. Nor is this to be wondered at; for the
murder he committed was one of the most unprovoked imaginable. It is probable,
from the affection the poor girl had for him, that she would have lent him a greater
sum than he obtained by cutting her throat.
His terrors at the sight of the gallows should teach those who are prompted to
iniquity to avoid all crimes that may lead to a fatal end. The wicked can never be
happy; and it is only by a life of integrity, virtue, and piety, that we can hope for the
blessing of God, the applause of a good conscience, and 'that peace of mind which
passeth all understanding.'
WILLIAM SHAW
Executed in 1721 for "Murdering" his Daughter, who, it was afterwards
proved, committed Suicide
WILLIAM SHAW was an upholsterer at Edinburgh in the year 1721. He had a
daughter, Catherine Shaw, who lived with him. She encouraged the addresses of John
Lawson, a jeweller, to whom William Shaw declared the most insuperable objections,
alleging him to be a profligate young man, addicted to every kind of dissipation. He
was forbidden the house; but the daughter continuing to see him clandestinely, the
father, on the discovery, kept her strictly confined. William Shaw had for some time
pressed his daughter to receive the addresses of a son of Alexander Robertson, a
friend and neighbour; and one evening, he being very urgent with her thereon, she
peremptorily refused, declaring she preferred death to being young Robertson's wife.
The father grew enraged and the daughter more positive; so that the most
passionate expressions arose on both sides, and the words "barbarity, cruelty and
death" were frequently pronounced by the daughter. At length he left her, locking the
door after him. The greatest part of the buildings at Edinburgh were formed on the
plan of the chambers in our inns of court; so that many families inhabited rooms on
the same floor, having all one common staircase. William Shaw dwelt in one of these,
and only a single partition divided his apartment from that of James Morrison, a
watch-case maker. This man had indistinctly overheard the conversation and quarrel
between Catherine Shaw and her father, but was particularly struck with the repetition
of the above words, she having pronounced them loudly and emphatically. For some
little time after the father had gone out all was silent, but presently Morrison heard
several groans from the daughter. Alarmed, he ran to some of his neighbours under
the same roof. These, entering Morrison's room and listening attentively, not only
heard the groans, but distinctly heard Catherine Shaw two or three times faintly
exclaim: "Cruel father, thou art the cause of my death!" Struck with this, they flew to
the door of Shaw's apartment; they knocked — no answer was given. The knocking
was still repeated — still no answer. Suspicions had before arisen against the father;
they were now confirmed. A constable was procured, an entrance forced. Catherine
was found weltering in her blood, and the fatal knife by her side. She was alive, but
speechless; but on questioning her as to owing her death to her father she was just
able to make a motion with her head, apparently in the affirmative, and expired.
Just at the critical moment William Shaw returned and entered the room. All
eyes were on him. He saw his neighbours and a constable in his apartment, and
seemed much disordered thereat; but at the sight of his daughter he turned pale,
trembled, and was ready to sink. The first surprise, and the succeeding horror, left
little doubt of his guilt in the breasts of the beholders; and even that little was done
away with on the constable discovering that the shirt of William Shaw was bloody. He
was instantly hurried before a magistrate, and, upon the depositions of all the parties,
committed to prison on suspicion. He was shortly after brought to trial, when, in his
defence, he acknowledged having confined his daughter to prevent her intercourse
with Lawson; that he had frequently insisted on her marrying Robertson; and that he
had quarrelled with her on the subject the evening she was found murdered, as the
witness Morrison had deposed: but he averred that he left his daughter unharmed and
untouched, and that the blood found upon his shirt was there in consequence of his
having bled himself some days before and the bandage becoming untied. These
assertions did not weigh with the jury, when opposed to the strong circumstantial
evidence of the daughter's expressions of "barbarity, cruelty, death," and of "Cruel
father, thou art the cause of my death" — together with that apparently affirmative
motion with her head, and of the blood so seemingly providentially discovered on the
father's shirt. On these several concurring circumstances was William Shaw found
guilty and executed, and was hanged in chains, at Leith Walk, in November, 1721. In
August, 1722, as a man who had become the possessor of the late William Shaw's
apartment was rummaging by chance in the chamber where Catherine Shaw died, he
accidentally perceived a paper which had fallen into a cavity on one side of the
chimney. It was folded as a letter, which, on being opened, contained the following:-
BARBAROUS FATHER, —
Your cruelty in having put it out of my power ever to join my fate to that of the only
man I could love, and tyrannically insisting upon my marrying one whom I always
hated, has made me form a resolution to put an end to an existence which is become a
burthen to me. I doubt not I shall find mercy in another world; for sure no benevolent
being can require that I should any longer live in torment to myself in this! My death I
lay to your charge: when you read this, consider yourself as the inhuman wretch that
plunged the murderous knife into the bosom of the unhappy
CATHERINE SHAW.
This letter being shown, the handwriting was recognised and avowed to be
Catherine Shaw's by many of her relations and friends. The magistracy of Edinburgh,
on a scrutiny, being convinced of its authenticity, they ordered the body of William
Shaw to be taken from the gibbet and given to his family for interment; and as the
only reparation to his memory and the honour of his surviving relations they caused a
pair of colours to be waved over his grave in token of his innocence.
JOHN MEFF
Executed for Returning from Transportation
THIS offender had been taken into custody for committing a robbery near
London; but, as it happened at a time within the limits of an Act of Grace passed in
the reign of King George the First, it was not thought necessary to indict him, and he
would have been discharged without further ceremony; but it appeared that he had
been transported for another crime, and returned before the expiration of his time:
wherefore he was indicted for this offence, on an act then lately made, "For the
effectual Transportation of Felons"; and his person being identified, he was found
guilty, received sentence of death, and was executed at Tyburn on the 11th of
September, 1721.
The following is an account which he wrote between his condemnation and
the day of his execution:
"I was born in London of French parents, who fled hither for protection when
the French Protestants were driven out of France by Louis XIV.
"I was put apprentice to a weaver: my father, having continued about twelve
years in England, went with the rest of his family to Holland. I served my time
faithfully, and with the approbation of my master. Soon after I came to work for
myself I married; but my business not being sufficient to maintain myself, my wife,
and children, I was willing to try what I could at thieving.
"I followed this practice until I was apprehended, tried, and condemned, for
housebreaking; but, as I was going to the place of execution, the hangman was
arrested, and I was brought back to Newgate. It was thought this was my contrivance,
to put a stop to public justice; but I was so far from being any ways concerned in it,
that I knew nothing of it till it was done. This might have been a happy turn for me, if
I had made a right use of it: for my sentence of death was changed for that of
transportation. And indeed I took up a solemn resolution to lead an honest and regular
course of life, and to resist all the persuasions of my comrades to the contrary. But
this resolution continued but a short time after the fear of death vanished.
"I believe, however, that if I had been safe landed in America, my ruin might
have been prevented: but the ship which carried me and the other convicts was taken
by the pirates. They would have persuaded me and some others to sign a paper, in
order to become pirates; but we refusing, they put me and eight more ashore on a
desert uninhabited island, where we must have perished with hunger, if by good
fortune an Indian canoe had not arrived there. We waited till the Indians had gone up
the island, and then, getting into the vessel, we sailed from one small island to
another, till we reached the coast of America.
"Not choosing to settle in any of the plantations there, but preferring the life of
a sailor, I shipped myself on board a vessel that carried merchandise from Virginia
and South Carolina to Barbadoes, Jamaica, and other of his majesty's islands. And
thus I lived a considerable time; but at last, being over-desirous to see how my wife
and children fared in England, I was resolved to return at all adventures.
"Upon my arrival here, I quickly fell into my former wicked practices, and it
was not long before I was committed to Newgate on suspicion of robbing a person
near London; but, by the assistance of a certain bricklayer, I broke out of prison and
went to Hatfield, where I lay concealed for some time; but was at last discovered, and
taken again by the same bricklayer who had procured my escape. Some evil genius
attended me. I was certainly infatuated, or I had never continued in a place where I
was so likely to be discovered.
"My father is now a gardener at Amsterdam. 'Tis an addition to my misfortune
that I cannot see him and my mother before I die; but, I hope, when he hears of my
unhappy end, he will keep my children by my first wife from starving. My present
wife is able, by her industry, to bring up her own offspring; for she has been an honest
careful woman, during the nine months I have been married to her, and has often
pressed me to go over to Ireland, and lead a regular and sober life. It had been well for
me if I had taken her advice.
"I have had enough of this restless and tumultuous world, and hope I am now
going to a better. I am very easy and resigned to the will of Providence, not doubting
but I have made my Peace with Heaven. I thank God that I have not been molested by
my fellow-prisoners with the least cursing or swearing in the condemned hole; but
have had an opportunity of employing every moment of my time in preparing for a
future state."
The case of this malefactor is very extraordinary, and perhaps may never be
equalled by that of any other. The narrow escape he had experienced from the gallows
ought to have taught him more wisdom than to have returned from transportation
before the expiration of his time; but one would think there is a fatality attending the
conduct of some men, who seem resolutely bent on their own destruction.
One truth, however, is certain. It is easy, by a steady adherence to the rules of
virtue, to shun that ignominious fate which is the consequence of a breach of the laws
of God and our country.
ARTHUR GRAY
Convicted of Burglary
IN December, 1721, the prisoner was indicted for breaking and entering the
dwelling house of George Baillie, Esq., in the parish of St. James, Westminster, with
intent to ravish Grizel, the wife of Alexander Murray.
Mrs. Murray was the sister of Mrs. Baillie, and lived in the house of her
brother-in-law, in the absence of her husband, who was a military officer.
It was sworn on the trial that, about four in the morning of the 14th of October,
the prisoner entered Mrs. Murray's room, with a drawn sword in one hand and a pistol
in the other, and threatened to kill her if she made any noise; that she asked him the
meaning of such a procedure, to which he replied, "Madam, I mean to ravish you, for
I have entertained a violent passion for you a long time; but, as there is so great a
difference between your fortune and mine, I despair of enjoying my wishes by any
means but force."
On this the lady remonstrated with him; but, persisting in his intention, he laid
the sword on the bolster, and attempted to pull off the bed-clothes; but Mrs. Murray
pushed him against the wall, wrenched the pistol out of his hand, and rang the bell; on
which the prisoner quitted the room; but she followed him to the door, and called out
murder, by which the family were alarmed.
The servants now ran to the assistance of the lady, but Gray had got to his own
room, and thrown himself on the bed with his clothes on; and, having been out in
company the preceding evening, it does not appear that he was undressed during the
night.
Being apprehended, and taken before a magistrate, he confessed that he
entered the room with an intent to ravish the lady; but this he afterwards steadily
denied; and various were the opinions of the public respecting his guilt or innocence.
The prisoner, in his defence, said that, thinking he heard a noise in Mrs.
Murray's room, he went down stairs and fetched a sword and pistol; and, as the door
stood partly open, he went in, and, laying down his arms to look behind the bed, Mrs.
Murray rang the bell, and alarmed the family.
The jury, having considered the evidence, brought him in guilty, and he
received sentence of death; but, Mrs. Murray's relations interceding in his behalf, he
was afterwards pardoned on condition of transportation.
This affair made a great noise at the time it happened, and many persons did
not scruple to insinuate that Gray had been admitted to favours which might warrant
his entering the lady's chamber at any hour.
The single reflection arising from this story is, that illicit pleasure leads to
disgrace: there is no doubt but there was some foundation for this prosecution. If Gray
had been previously too intimate with the lady, she was punished by the exposure of a
public trial; if otherwise, he was punished for the attempt, in the ignominy of a public
conviction. Hence let it be learnt that chastity is a virtue which cannot be prized at too
high a rate.
NATHANIEL HAWES
Highwayman, who underwent Torture for the Sake of his Honour. Executed
at Tyburn, 21st of December, 1721.
NATHANIEL HAWES was a native of Norfolk, in which county he was born
in the year 1701. His father was a grazier in ample 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, and thus acquiring an early habit of vice, 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 of stealing to the amount of thirty-nine shillings, was
sentenced to seven years' transportation. This sentence, however, was not carried into
execution, owing to the following circumstance. A man named Phillips had
encouraged the unhappy youth in his depredations, by purchasing, at a very low rate,
such goods as he stole from his master; but when Hawes was taken into custody he
gave information of this affair, in consequence of which a search warrant was
procured, and many effects belonging to Hawes's master were found in Phillips's
possession. Hereafter application was made to the King, and a free pardon was
granted to Hawes, whereby he was rendered a competent evidence against Phillips,
who was tried for receiving stolen goods, and transported for fourteen years. Hawes,
during his confinement in Newgate, had made such connections as greatly contributed
to the contamination of his morals; and soon after his release he connected himself
with a set of bad fellows who acted under the direction of Jonathan Wild, and having
made a particular acquaintance with one John James, they joined in the commission of
a number of robberies. After an uncommon share of success for some days they
quarrelled on the division of the booty, in consequence of which each acted on his
own account. Some little time after they had thus separated, Hawes, being
apprehensive that James would impeach him, applied to Jonathan Wild, and informed
against his old acquaintance, on which James was taken into custody, tried, convicted
and executed. Notwithstanding this conviction, the Court sentenced Hawes to be
imprisoned in the New Prison, and that jail was preferred to Newgate because the
prisoners in the latter threatened to murder Hawes for being an evidence against
James. Here it should be observed that, by an Act — 4th and 5th of William and Mary
— for the More Effectual Conviction of Highwaymen, the evidence of accomplices is
allowed, but the evidence cannot claim his liberty unless two or more of his
accomplices are convicted, but may be imprisoned during the pleasure of the Court.
Soon after his commitment Hawes and another fellow made their escape, and
entering into partnership committed a variety of robberies, particularly on the road
between Hackney and Shoreditch. This connection, like the former, lasted but a short
time. A dispute on dividing their ill-gotten gains occasioned a separation; soon after
which Hawes went alone to Finchley Common, where, meeting with a gentleman
riding to town, he presented a pistol to his breast and commanded him instantly to
dismount, that he might search him for his money. The gentleman offered him four
shillings, on which Hawes swore the most horrid oaths, and threatened instant death if
he did not immediately submit. The gentleman quitted his horse, and in the same
moment seized the pistol, which he snatched from the hand of the robber, and
presenting it at him told him to expect death if he did not surrender himself. Hawes,
who was now as terrified as he had been insolent, made no opposition; and the driver
of a cart coming up just at that juncture 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 the following 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 he was told what would be the consequence of his contempt of
legal authority; but this making no impression on him, 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, which being complied with, he pleaded "Not guilty"; but the
evidence against him being complete, he was convicted and sentenced to die. He was
executed at Tyburn, on the 21st of December, 1721.
ARUNDEL COOKE, ESQ., AND JOHN WOODBURNE
The First who suffered Death under the Coventry Act. Executed at Bury St
Edmunds, 5th of April, 1722
PREVIOUS to the passing of what was known as the Coventry Act it was
customary for revengeful men to waylay another and cut and maim him, so that
though he did not die of such wounds he might remain a cripple during the remainder
of life, and such case was not then a capital offence. It was also a dangerous practice
resorted to by thieves, who would often cut the sinews of men's legs, called ham-
stringing, in order to prevent their escape from being robbed.
Sir John Coventry in the reign of Charles II. having opposed the measures of
the Court in the House of Commons, in revenge some armed villains attacked him one
night in Covent Garden, slit his nose and cut off his lips. Shocked by so barbarous a
deed, the Members of both Houses of Parliment passed an Act, in a few days, by
which it was ordained that "Unlawfully cutting out or disabling the tongue, of malice
aforethought or by lying in wait, putting out an eye, slitting the nose or lip, or cutting
off or disabling any limb or member of any person, with intent to maim or disfigure,
shall be felony without benefit of clergy." By this law it is likewise enacted that
"accessories shall likewise be deemed principals."
Mr Cooke was born at Bury St Edmunds, in the county of Suffolk. His father
was a man of fortune, and when he had given him a university education he sent him
to the Temple to study the law, after which he was called to the Bar, and acted as a
counsellor. After some time he married a young lady, the sister of Mr Crisp, who
lived in the neighbourhood of his native place. Mr Crisp being a gentleman of large
property, but in a bad state of health, made his will in favour of Cooke, subject only to
a jointure for his sister's use, which was likewise to become the property of the
counsellor in the case of the lady dying before her husband. It was not long after Mr
Crisp had made his will before he recovered his health in some degree; but he
continued an infirm man, though he lived a number of years. This partial recovery
gave great uneasiness to Cooke, who, wishing to possess the estate, was anxious for
the death of his brother-in-law, though, as he had art enough to conceal his
sentiments, they appeared to live on tolerable terms. However he at length grew so
impatient that he could not come into possession by the death of Mr Crisp that he
resolved to remove him by murder, and for that purpose engaged John Woodburne, a
labouring man, who had six children, to assist him in the execution of his diabolical
plan; for which piece of service he promised to give him a hundred pounds. The man
was unwilling to be concerned in this execrable business; but, reflecting on his
poverty, the largeness of his family tempted him to comply. On this it was agreed the
murder should be perpetrated on Christmas evening; and as Mr Crisp was to dine with
Cooke on that day, and the churchyard lay between one house and the other,
Woodburne was to wait, concealed behind one of the tombstones, till Cooke gave him
the signal of attack, which was to be a loud whistle. Crisp came to his appointment,
and dined and drank tea with his brother-in-law; but declining to stay to supper he left
the house about nine o'clock, and was almost immediately followed into the
churchyard by Cooke, who gave the agreed signal. Woodburne quitted his place of
retreat, knocked down the unhappy man, and cut and maimed him in a terrible
manner, in which he was abetted by the counsellor.
Imagining they had dispatched him, Mr Cooke rewarded Woodburne with a
few shillings and instantly went home; but he had not arrived more than a quarter of
an hour before Mr Crisp knocked at the door, and entered, covered with wounds, and
almost dead through loss of blood. He was unable to speak, but by his looks seemed
to accuse Cooke with the intended murder, and was then put to bed and his wounds
dressed by a surgeon. At the end of about a week he was so much mended that he was
removed to his own house. He had no doubt but Cooke was one of the persons who
had assaulted him, but he resolved not to speak of the affair till future circumstances
made it necessary for him to inform a court of justice of what had happened. The
intended assassination having greatly engaged the attention of the neighbours,
Woodburne was apprehended on suspicion, and making a discovery of the whole
truth, Cooke was also taken into custody. They were brought to their trials at the next
assizes, and both convicted.
When they were called upon to receive sentence of death Cooke desired to be
heard; and on 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
cause. The Counsel for the Crown opposed the arguments of Cooke. He insisted that
the crime came within the meaning of the law, and hoped that judgment would pass
against the prisoners. Lord Chief Justice King, who presided on this occasion,
declared he could not admit the force of Mr Cooke's plea, consistent 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 judgment cannot be arrested, as
the intention is naturally implied when the crime is actually committed." His Lordship
said that "Crisp was assassinated in the manner laid in the indictment: it is therefore to
be taken for granted that the intention was to maim and deface; wherefore the Court
will proceed to give judgment"; and accordingly sentence of death was passed on
Cooke and his accomplice.
A short time before the day of execution Cooke wrote to the sheriff, requesting
that he might be hanged in the night, to prevent his being exposed to the country
people, who were expected from all the adjacent towns and villages; and in
consequence thereof he was hanged at four o'clock in the morning, and Woodburne
was executed in the afternoon of the same day.
JOHN HARTLEY AND THOMAS REEVES
Footpads, who were executed at Tyburn on the 4th of May, 1722, after One
had, by a Ruse, petitioned the King
Hartley and Reeves tying the Journeyman to a Tree
JOHN HARTLEY and Thomas Reeves were indicted at the Old Bailey for
stopping a journeyman tailor in the fields near Harrow and robbing him of twopence
and his clothes, and because he had no more money they stripped and beat him most
inhumanly, and bound him to a tree.
While he was in this wretched situation some persons who came by unbound
him and took him to an ale-house, where he told the particulars of the robbery,
mentioned the colour of his clothes, and described the persons of the robbers to the
best of his power.
These circumstances were heard by a fiddler, who, going next day into a
public-house in Fore Street, saw the fellows offering to sell the tailor's coat. The
fiddler immediately proposed to be the purchaser, gave earnest for it and, pretending
he had not money enough, said he would fetch the difference; instead of which he
brought the party robbed, and he knowing the footpads they were taken into custody.
The evidence on their trial was so plain that the jury could not hesitate to find them
guilty; in consequence of which they received sentence of death.
After conviction their behaviour was unbecoming to persons in their unhappy
circumstances. That of Reeves was particularly hardened; he would sing and swear
while the other convicts were at prayers, yet he told the ordinary that he was certain of
going to heaven.
The most curious circumstance arising from the detection of these offenders
was the singular method which Hartley took to save his life. He procured six young
women, dressed in white, to go to St James's and present a petition on his behalf. The
singularity of their appearance gained them admission, when they delivered their
petition, and told the King that if he extended the Royal mercy to the offender they
would cast lots which should be his wife; but his Majesty said that he was more
deserving of the gallows than a wife, and accordingly refused their request. As they
were going to execution the ordinary asked Reeves if his wife had been concerned
with him in any robberies. "No," said he, "she is a worthy woman, whose first
husband happening to be hanged, I married her that she might not reproach me by a
repetition of his virtues." At the fatal tree Reeves behaved in the most hardened
manner, affected to despise death, and said he believed he might go to heaven from
the gallows as safely as from his bed.
These offenders suffered at Tyburn on the 4th of May, 1722.
We see, in the instance of these malefactors, from what a casual circumstance
their detection arose. A man hears a description of them in a public house; the next
day he goes accidentally into another ale-house, where he sees them offering the
stolen goods for sale; and, by an honest deception, procures their being taken into
custody. The poor fiddler had no interest in their detection but what arose from his
abhorrence of vice; yet he was so regardful of what he had heard, that he became the
immediate instrument of bringing them to justice.
Hence let us learn to admire the inscrutable mysteries of the providence of
God, which, as they surpass our finite comprehension, should excite our wonder and
our gratitude. Nothing can be hid from the all-seeing eye of Heaven; and the man that
commits a crime with the hope of concealing it does but treasure up a fund of
uneasiness for his own mind: for, even if the crime should be concealed from the
public, he will be perpetually harassed with the corroding stings of a guilty
conscience, and at all times carry with him a hell in his own bosom!
JOHN HAWKINS AND JAMES SIMPSON
Highwaymen and Mail Robbers. Executed at Tyburn on the 21st of May,
1722
Hawkins & Simpson robbing the Mail
JOHN HAWKINS was born at Staines, in Middlesex, and for some time lived
as waiter at the Red Lion, at Brentford; but leaving this place, he then engaged as a
gentleman's servant. Having been at length in different families, he became butler to
Sir Dennis Drury, and was distinguished as a servant of very creditable appearance.
His person was uncommonly graceful and he was remarkably vain of it. He used to
frequent gaming-tables two or three nights in a week, a practice which led to that ruin
which finally befell him.
About this time Sir Dennis had been robbed of a considerable quantity of
plate; and as Hawkins's mode of life was very expensive it was suspected that he was
the thief, for which reason he was discharged, without the advantage of a good
character. Being thus destitute of the means of subsistence, he had recourse to the
highway, and his first expedition was to Hounslow Heath, where he took eleven
pounds from the passengers in a coach; but such was his attachment to gaming that he
repaired directly to London and lost it all. He continued to rob alone for some time,
and then engaged with other highwaymen; but the same fate still attended him — he
lost by gaming what he acquired at so much risk, and was frequently so reduced as to
dine at an eating-house and sneak off without paying his reckoning. Several of his old
companions having met their deserts at the gallows, he became acquainted with one
Wilson, a youth of good education, who had been articled to a solicitor in Chancery,
but had neglected his business through an attachment to the gaming-table. These
associates, having committed several robberies in conjunction, were tried for one of
them, but acquitted for want of evidence. After which Wilson went down to his
mother, who lived at Whitby, in Yorkshire, and continued with her for about a year,
and then, coming to London, lived with a gentleman of the law. But having lost his
money in gaming, he renewed his acquaintance with Hawkins, who was now
concerned with a new gang of villains, one of whom, however, being apprehended,
impeached the rest, which soon depressed the gang, but not until some of them had
made their exit at Tyburn; on which Hawkins was obliged to conceal himself for a
considerable time. But at length he ventured to rob a gentleman on Finchley Common,
and shot one of his servants too, who died on the spot. His next attack was on the Earl
of Burlington and Lord Bruce, in Richmond Lane, from whom he took about twenty
pounds, two gold watches and a sapphire ring. For this ring a reward of one hundred
pounds was offered to Jonathan Wild, but Hawkins sailed to Holland with it and there
sold it for forty pounds.
On his return to England he rejoined his companions, of whom Wilson was
one, and robbed Sir David Dalrymple of about three pounds, a snuff-box and a
pocket-book, for which last Sir David offered sixty pounds' reward to Wild; but
Hawkins's gang having no connection with that villain, who did not even know their
persons, they sent the book by a porter to Sir David, without expense. They next
stopped Mr Hyde, of Hackney, in his coach, and robbed him of ten pounds and his
watch, but missed three hundred pounds which the gentleman then had in his
possession. After this they stopped the Earl of Westmoreland's coach, in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, and robbed him of a sum of money, though there were three footmen behind
the carriage. The footmen called the watch, but on the robbers firing a pistol over their
heads the guardians of the night decamped. Hawkins had now resolved to carry the
booty obtained in several late robberies to Holland, but Jonathan Wild, having heard
of the connection, caused some of the gang to be apprehended, on which the rest went
into the country to hide themselves. On this occasion Hawkins and Wilson went to
Oxford, and paying a visit to the Bodleian Library, the former wantonly defaced some
pictures in the gallery, and one hundred pounds' reward being offered to discover the
offender, a poor tailor, having been taken up on suspicion narrowly escaped being
whipped, merely because he was of Whiggish principles.
Hawkins and his friend returning to London, the latter, coming of age at that
time, succeeded to a little estate his father had left him, which he sold for three
hundred and fifty pounds, a small part of which he lent to his companions to buy
horses, and soon dissipated the rest at the gaming-table. The associates now stopped
two gentlemen in a chariot on the Hampstead Road, who both fired at once, by which
three slugs were lodged in Hawkins's shoulder and the highwaymen got to London
with some difficulty. On Hawkins's recovery they attempted to stop a gentleman's
coach in Hyde Park, but the coachman driving hastily, Wilson fired, and wounding
himself in the hand found it difficult to scale the Park wall to effect his escape. This
circumstance occasioned some serious thoughts in his mind, in consequence of which
he set out for his mother's house in Yorkshire, where he was kindly received, and
fully determined never to recur to his former practices. While he was engaged in his
mother's business, and planning schemes for domestic happiness, he was sent for to a
public-house, where he found his old acquaintance, Hawkins, in company with one
George Simpson, another associate, who was a native of Putney, in Surrey. They went
to London together and formed connections with other thieves, and committed several
robberies, for which some of the gang were executed. At length it was determined to
rob the Bristol mail, and they set out on an expedition for that purpose.
It appeared at the trial that the boy who carried the mail was overtaken at
Slough by a countryman, who travelled with him to Langley Broom, where a person
rode up to them and turned back again. When passing through Colnbrook they saw the
same man again, with two others, who followed them at a small distance, and then
pulled their wigs over their foreheads, and holding handkerchiefs over their mouths
came up with them and commanded the post-boy and the countryman to come down a
lane, when they ordered them to quit their horses; and then Hawkins, Simpson and
Wilson tied them back to back and fastened them to a tree in a wet ditch, so that they
were obliged to stand in the water. This being done, they took such papers as they
liked out of the Bath and Bristol bags, and hid the rest in a hedge. They now crossed
the Thames, and riding a little way into Surrey put up their horses at an inn in
Bermondsey Street. Having equally divided the bank-notes, they threw the letters into
the fire and then went to their lodgings in Green Arbour Court, in the Old Bailey. A
few days after this, information was given at the Post Office that suspicious people
frequented the house of Carter, the stable-keeper, at London Wall; accordingly some
persons were sent thither to make the necessary discoveries. Wilson happened to be
there at the time and suspected their business, and later he was apprehended and
conducted to the Post Office. On his first examination he refused to make any
confession, and on the following day he seemed equally determined to conceal the
truth, till two circumstances induced him to reveal it. In the first place the Postmaster-
General promised that he should be admitted an evidence if he would discover his
accomplices; and one of the clerks, calling him aside, showed him a letter with out
any name to it, of which the following is a copy: —
SIR, — I am one of those persons who robbed the mail, which I am sorry for; and to
make amends, I will secure my two companions as soon as may be. He whose hand
this shall appear to be will, I hope, be entitled to the reward of his pardon.
As Wilson knew this letter to be in Simpson's handwriting, he thought himself
justified in making a full discovery, which he accordingly did, in consequence of
which his associates were apprehended at their lodgings in the Old Bailey two days
afterwards. At first they made an appearance of resistance and threatened to shoot the
peace officers; but on the latter saying they were provided with arms the offenders
yielded, and were committed to Newgate. A verdict of guilty was returned against
both prisoners. They suffered at Tyburn, on the 21st of May, 1722, and were hanged
in chains on Hounslow Heath.
WILLIAM BURRIDGE
Executed at Tyburn, May 22, 1722, for Horse-stealing.
William Burridge was born in Northamptonshire, and served his
apprenticeship to a carpenter; but being of a wild disposition, his friends determined
on sending him to sea; accordingly they got him rated as a midshipman, and he sailed
to the coast of Spain; but soon quitting the naval service, he returned to England, and
commencing highwayman, committed many robberies on the road to Hampstead, on
Finchley Common, and in the neighbourhood of Hammersmith. When he first began
the practice of robbing, he formed a resolution to retire when he had acquired as much
money as would support him: but this time never arrived; for finding his success by
no means proportioned to his expectations, he became one of the gang under Jonathan
Wild, of infamous memory; and was for a considerable time screened from justice by
that celebrated master of thieves.
Burridge being confined in New Prison for a capital offence, broke out of that
gaol; and he was repeatedly an evidence at the Old Bailey, by which means his
associates suffered the rigour of the law. At length having offended Wild, the latter
marked him down as one doomed to suffer at the next execution after the ensuing
sessions at the Old Bailey; which was a common practice with Wild when he grew
tired of his dependants, or thought they could be no longer serviceable to him.
Alarmed by this circumstance, Burridge fled into Lincolnshire, where he stole a horse,
and brought it to London, intending to sell it at Smithfield for present support; but the
gentleman who lost the horse having sent a full description of it to London, Burridge
was seen riding on it through the street, and watched to a livery-stable. Some persons
going to take him, he produced a brace of pistols, threatening destruction to any me
who came near him; by which he got off; but being immediately pursued, he was
apprehended in May-Fair, and lodged in Newgate.
On his trial, a man and a woman swore that they saw him purchase the horse;
but as there was a material difference in their stories, the court was of opinion that
they had been hired to swear, and the judge gave directions for their being taken into
custody for the perjury. The jury did not hesitate to find Burridge guilty; and after
sentence was passed, his behaviour was extremely devout and he encouraged the
devotion of others in like unhappy circumstances. He suffered in the 34th year of his
age; having first warned the spectators to be obedient to their parents and masters, and
to beware of the crime of debauching young women, which had first led him from the
path of duty, and finally terminated in his ruin.
NATHANIEL JACKSON
Highwayman, executed at Tyburn, on the 18th of July, 1722
NATHANIEL JACKSON was a native of Doncaster, in Yorkshire, whose
father dying while he was very young, left a sum of money for his use in the hands of
a relation, who apprenticed him to a silk-weaver in Norwich. He had frequent disputes
with his master, with whom he lived three years, and then ran away. At length his
guardian found out his retreat, and sent to inform him, that, as he was averse to
business, his friends wished that a place might be purchased for him with the money
left by his father. But Jackson being of an unsettled disposition, enlisted in the army,
and was sent to Ireland.
After a while, being disgusted with his low condition, he solicited his
discharge, which having obtained, he procured some money of his friends, and gave
fifteen guineas to be admitted into a troop of dragoons; but soon quarrelling with one
of his comrades, a duel ensued, in which Jackson wounded the other in such a horrid
manner, that he was turned out of the regiment. He then returned to England, and
lived some time with his guardian in Yorkshire; being averse to a life of sobriety, he
afterwards went to London, where he spent, in the most extravagant manner, the little
money he brought with him. Reduced to the utmost distress, he casually met John
Murphy and Neal O'Brian, whom he had known in Ireland. After they had drank
together, O'Brian produced a considerable sum of money, saying, "You-see how I
live: I never want money, and if you have but courage, and dare walk with me
towards Hampstead to-night, I'll shew you how easy it is to get it." As Jackson and
Murphy were both of dissolute manners, and very poor, they were easily persuaded to
be concerned in this dangerous enterprise. Between Tottenham-court-road and
Hampstead they stopped a poor man named Dennis, from whom they took his coat,
waistcoat, two shirts, thirteen pence in money, and some other trifling articles, and
then bound him to a tree. No sooner were they gone, than he struggled hard, got loose,
and meeting a person whom he knew, they pursued them to a night-house in the
Haymarket, where Murphy and Jackson were taken into custody, but O'Brian made
his escape. On their trial, as soon as Dennis had given his testimony, they owned they
fact they had committed, in consequence of which they received sentence of death;
but Murphy obtained a reprieve. Jackson's brother exerted all his influence to save his
life; but his endeavours proving ineffectual, he sent him a letter to inform him of it,
which was written in such an affecting manner as to overwhelm his mind with the
most poignant affliction. While under sentence of death, Jackson behaved in the most
penitent manner; confessed the sins of his past life with the deepest signs of
contrition; was earnest in his devotions, and made every preparation for his
approaching end. He was executed at Tyburn, on the 18th of July, 1722, having
suffered for the first robbery he ever committed.
THOMAS BUTLOGE
Robber, hanged at Tyburn, for basely betraying his trust, in robbing his
master, on the 18th of July, 1722
THOMAS BUTLOGE was a native of Ireland, where he received a good
education, and was then apprenticed to a vintner in Dublin; but the house in which he
lived not being of the most reputable kind, he became witness to such scenes as had a
natural tendency to debauch his morals.
Butloge's master having got considerably in debt, came to England, and
resided some time in Chester, whither the apprentice was frequently sent with such
remittances as the wife could spare.
At length Butloge quitted his service, and came to England, with a view to
settle there: but being unsuccessful in his endeavours to procure an establishment, he
returned to Dublin, where he engaged in the service of a shopkeeper, whose daughter
he soon afterwards married.
He had now a fair prospect of success before him, as his wife's father proposed
to have resigned business in his favour; but being of an unsettled disposition, and
having conceived an idea of making his fortune in England, he could not bring his
mind to think of the regular pursuit of trade.
Unhappily for him, while he was amusing himself with the imagination of his
future greatness, he received a letter from a relation in England. inviting him thither,
and promising his interest to obtain him a place, on which he might live in a genteel
manner. Butloge readily accepted this invitation, and immediately embarking for
England, soon arrived in London.
He now took lodgings at the court end of the town, and living in a gay style,
soon spent all the money he had brought with him from Ireland; and his relation not
being able to obtain the place for him which he had expected, he was reduced to the
necessity of going to service, on which he entered into that of Mr. Langlie, a French
gentleman.
He had not been long in his new place, when Mr. Langlie, going to church on
a Sunday, recollected that he had forgot to lock his bureau, in which he had deposited
a sum of money; whereupon he went home, and found Butloge in the room where the
money was left. When Mr. Langlie had counted his cash, the other asked him if he
missed any thing, and the master answered, one guinea, which Butloge said he had
found by the side of the bureau; whereupon his master gave him two shillings, in
approbation of this instance of his honesty.
Mr. Langlie went to Chelsea in the afternoon; and during his absence Butloge
broke open his bureau, robbed it of all the money, and several other valuable effects,
and then took a horse, which he had hired for a gentleman to go to Chester, and set off
on his way to Ireland.
When Mr. Langlie returned in the evening, he discovered the loss he had
sustained; on which he applied to Lord Gage, who wrote to the postmaster of. Chester
to stop the delinquent; in consequence of which he was apprehended with the stolen
goods in his possession, and sent to London to take his trial, which happened soon
afterwards at the Old Bailey, when he was capitally convicted.
After he had received sentence of death, he acknowledged that he was not
tempted by want to the commission of the crime which had brought him into such
deplorable circumstances; but that the vanity of appearing as a gentleman had been
one principal instigation; and he was encouraged by the consideration that Mr.
Langlie would soon return to France, so that there would be no person to prosecute
him. He submitted to his unhappy lot with resignation, declaring that the thoughts of
death did not so much terrify him, as the reflection on the disgrace that he had brought
on his family.
He was executed at Tyburn, on the 18th of July, 1722, along. with Nathaniel
Jackson.
MARGARET FISHER
Sentenced to death for privately stealing, but afterwards pardoned,
September, 1722
THIS trial contains nothing in the case itself of import sufficient to be allotted
a place in these volumes how ever, it presents an extraordinary specimen of the
Scotch dialect, which those far removed from the Northern extremity of Britain will
deem a curiosity.
At the sessions of the Old Bailey in September, 1722, Margaret Fisher was
tried for privately stealing thirteen guineas from the person of Daniel M'Donald, who
gave the following evidence, with true Scotch pronunciation and gesticulation:
'And leek yer loardship, I had just taken my wages, thirteen guineas in goud,
and was gawn alang King Strate in Westmanster, when I mat wi' this fow quean at the
bare, and she speird where I was gawn; I taud her hame. She said gen I wad ga wi' hur
tull Joanny Davis's hoose, she wad gi' me drame, sir, for, in troth, she tuck me for a
poor gawkey boss-headed chiel, and leek yer loardship. Sa she tuck had o' my haind,
sad lad me a gat I kenna reet weel. And when we came tull Joanny Davis's hoose, she
caud for muckle beer and braindy, and gerd me as bung as a swobe, and leek yer
hoanour. I staid there wi' her a pratty while; and thane, sir, I put my hand in tull my
bricks, to feel for money to pay the rackoning; but the deel a bawbie could I find, for
it was aw tint. And when I speird about it, they glowred, and taud me, gen I wanna'
tack myself awaw, they wad gar me ga, wi' a deel to me; and sa, sir, they dang me su'
sair, and turned me oot at the back door, intull the strate, and I rambled aboot, and
con' na' find the hoose agen; and the watchmen met wi' me, and carried me untill the
roond hoose, And there I taud 'em hoo I bad been roabed. The neist moarning I gaed
and food oot Joanny Davis's boose, but she was ran awaw, and the prasoner too. But
at neet, about saven a cloke, I mat wi' this impudent betch at the bare, and tuck her up.
I ken well enugh that she must ha' my goud, for na saul also wi' me but Toanny Davis,
wha brote what we cawd for. Let her denee it an she can. Somebody (but I kenna'
what it was) offered me sax guineas in my haind to make the matter up, but I wanna
tack it.'
In her defence the prisoner alleged that, meeting with a coachman and the
prosecutor, the former asked her to drink; on which they went to the house of Mrs.
Davis; but that she sat on the opposite side of the room that the prosecutor did, and
had not robbed him; and that nothing was found upon her when she was searched. The
jury not believing her allegations, and the prisoner having no person to appear in
behalf of her character, she was found guilty, and received sentence of death. Having,
however, pleaded pregnancy, which was confirmed by a jury of matrons, she was
afterwards pardoned.
The remark to be made on this ease arises from the folly of those men who
will suffer themselves to be robbed by the women of the town. Nothing is more
common than for countrymen to be picked up by these abandoned creatures, who
entice them to drink, and then strip them of their whole property. One would imagine
that the repeated accounts of these transactions given in the newspapers might be
sufficient to guard all men against the artifices of these wretches: but experience
proves the contrary. It may, therefore, be proper to caution our readers from a higher
authority than that of the newspapers:
'My son, attend unto my wisdom; and bow thine ear to my understanding:—
that thou mayest regard discretion, and that thy lips may keep knowledge:— for the
lips of a strange woman drop as a honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil:—
but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword: her feet go down to
death; her steps take hold on hell.' — Proverbs.
MATTHIAS BRINSDEN
Executed for killing his wife.
Brinsden stabbing his wife
THIS offender served his time to a cloth-drawer, in Blackfriars, named Beech,
who, dying, was succeeded by Mr. Byfleld, who left his business to Brinsden, who
married Byfield's widow; but how long she lived with him is uncertain.
After the death of this wife, he married a second, by whom he had ten
children, some of the elder of whom were brought up to work at his business. At
length he was seized with a fever so violent that it distracted him, so that he was tied
down to his bed. This misfortune occasioned such a decay in his trade, that on his
recovery he carried newspapers, and did any other business he could, to support his
family.
Going home about nine o'clock one evening, his wife, who was sitting on a
bed, suckling a young child, asked him what he should have for supper. To which he
answered, "Bread and cheese; can't you eat that as well as the children?" She replied,
"No, I want a bit of meat." "But (said he) I have no money to buy you any." In answer
to which she said, "You know I have had but little to-day;" and, some farther words
arising between them, he stabbed her under her left breast with a knife.
The deed was no sooner perpetrated than one of the daughters snatched the
infant from the mother's breast, and another cried out, "O Lord! father, you have
killed my mother." The prisoner now sent for some basilicon and sugar, which he
applied to the wound, and then made his escape.
A surgeon, being sent for, found that the wound was mortal, and the poor
woman died soon after he came, and within half an hour of the time the wound was
given.
In the interim the murderer had retreated to the house of Mr. King, a barber, at
Shadwell; whence, on the following day, he sent a letter to one of his daughters, and
another to a woman of his acquaintance; and in consequence of these letters he was
discovered, taken into custody, carried before a magistrate, and committed to take his
trial for the murder.
When on trial, he urged, in his defence, that his wife was in some degree
intoxicated, that she wanted to go out and drink with her companions, and that, while
he endeavoured to hinder her, she threw herself against the knife, and received an
accidental wound.
However, the evidence against him was so clear, that his allegations had no
weight, and he received sentence of death. After conviction he became serious and
resigned; and being visited by one of his daughters, who had given evidence against
him, he took her in his arms, and said, "God forgive me, I have robbed you of your
mother: be a good child, and rather die than steal: never be in a passion; but curb your
anger, and honour your mistress: she will be as a father and mother to you. Farewell,
my dear child; pray for your father, and think of him as favourably as you can."
On his way to the place of execution, the daughter above mentioned was
permitted to go into the cart, to take her last farewell of him, — a scene that was
greatly affecting to the spectators.
As some reports very unfavourable to this malefactor had been propagated
during his confinement, he desired the Ordinary of Newgate to read the following
speech just before he was launched into eternity.
'I was born of kind parents, who gave me learning: I went apprentice to a fine-
drawer. I had often jars, which might increase a natural waspishness in my temper. I
fell in love with Hannah, my last wife, and after much difficulty won her, she having
five suitors courting her at the same time. We had ten children (half of them dead),
and I believe we loved each other dearly; but often quarrelled and fought.
'Pray, good people, mind, I had no malice against her, nor thought to kill her
two minutes before the deed; but I designed only to make her obey me thoroughly,
which the Scripture says all wives should do. This I thought I had done when I cut her
skull on Monday, but she was the same again by Tuesday.
'Good people, I request you to observe, that the world has spitefully given out,
that I carnally and incestuously lay with my eldest daughter. I here solemnly declare,
as I am entering into the presence of God, I never knew whether she was a man or a
woman since she was a babe. I have often taken her in my arms, often kissed her,
sometimes given her a cake or a pie, when she did any particular service beyond what
came to her share; but never lay with her, or carnally knew her, much less had a child
by her. But when a man is in calamities, and is hated like me, the women will make
surmises be certainties.
'Good Christians, pray for me! I deserve death: I am willing to die; for, though
my sins are great, God's mercies are greater.'
He was executed at Tyburn, on the 24th of September, 1722.
If any credit is to be given to Brinsden's last solemn declaration, his wife, as
well as himself, seems to have been of an unhappy disposition, since they could not
refrain from quarrelling, though they had a sincere regard for each other. We fear this
is but too commonly the case in the married state; but it is a lamentable consideration
that those who have engaged to be the mutual comfort and support of each other,
through life, should render the rugged path still more difficult by their mutual
contentions and animosities.
It is the part of a husband to protect his wife from every injury and insult; to be
at once a father and a guardian to her; and, so far from ill-treating her himself, he
ought to be particularly watchful that she be not ill used by others: the tenderer sex
have a natural claim to the protection of the more robust. Indeed it would appear that
one reason for Providence bestowing superior strength on the man, was for the
defence and protection of the woman.
On the other hand women should be grateful for this protection; and, in the
emphatical words of St. Paul, wives should learn to be 'obedient to their husbands in
all things.'
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Ev'n such a woman oweth to her husband:
And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
What is she but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
— SHAKESPEARE
It is a very unfortunate circumstance when persons of opposite sentiments
happen to be united in wedlock: but, even in this case, people of sense and humanity
will learn to bear with the failings of each other, considering that much allowance is
to be made for their own faults. They will endeavour to make the lot which has
befallen them more supportable than it otherwise would be; and, in time, by the
constant wish to please, they may even conciliate the affections of each other, and
mutual happiness may arise where it is least expected.
In general, however, a coincidence of temper and a purity of manners, added
to a sacred regard to religious duties, are the greatest security for happiness in the
married state. Beautiful are the lines of the poet:
Two kindest souls alone should meet,
'Tis friendship makes their bondage sweet,
And feeds their mutual loves:
Bright Venus, on her rolling throne,
Is drawn by gentlest birds alone,
And Cupids yoke the doves.
ROBERT WILKINSON, JAMES LINCOLN, AND
THOMAS MILKSOP
Murderers, executed at Tyburn, Sept. 24, 1722.
THESE offenders were tried for a murder, which arose from the following
circumstance:
Having agreed to commit a robbery together, they stopped a gentleman's coach
on the road to Kensington, robbed him of a sum of money, and ran off. Soon
afterwards meeting a Chelsea pensioner, who had a gun in his hand, they ordered him
to deliver it; but the man refusing to do it, Wilkinson stabbed him repeatedly through
the back with the hanger; and when they saw the man was dead, they hastily
decamped, committed some robberies on coaches on the road, and then went to
London.
On the following day they were apprehended, and committed to prison; and
being soon afterwards brought to their trial at the Old Bailey, they were convicted,
and received sentence of death.
It will be now proper to give such an account of these offenders as we have
been able to collect. Robert Wilkinson was the son of poor parents in St. Giles's, and,
having missed the advantages of education, became an associate of coachmen,
carmen, and others the lowest of the people. At length he grew to be a dexterous
boxer, and frequented Hockley-in-the-Hole, and other blackguard places in the
neighbourhood of London. After this he commenced footpad, and committed a great
variety of robberies, attended with many circumstances of cruelty. Frequently did he
knock men down with bludgeons; and when he had robbed women, it was a common
practice with him to strip them naked, bind them to trees, and leave them in that
calamitous situation.
He continued this way of life alone for some years, and then connected
himself with the other villains whose names are mentioned in this narrative.
James Lincoln was likewise born of mean parents, nor was any more care
taken of his education than of Wilkinson's. For some time he served the hackney
coachmen and carmen, and afterwards committed an immense number of footpad
robberies on the roads near London; and so frequent were his depredations of this
kind, that honest men were afraid to pass alone about their lawful business.
He had been so successful in his adventures, and had so often escaped
detection, that he grew so hardened, as to watch four nights at the end of Queen-street,
Lincoln's-inn-fields, to rob the Duke of Newcastle of his george, though he knew that
his grace had always a number of servants in his train.
Being disappointed of this booty, he went on foot to Hyde-park, where he
robbed a gentleman in his carriage, and eluded all pursuit. The money he acquired by
his robberies was spent in the most extravagant manner; and, at length, he became
acquainted with the other subjects of this narrative, and was concerned in the crime
which ended in their mutual ruin.
Thomas Milksop was a native of London, and was bound apprentice to a
vintner, in which station he became familiar to some scenes of irregularity that had a
natural tendency to corrupt his morals. When the term of his apprenticeship was
expired, he attached himself to some abandoned women, and got connected with an
infamous gang of housebreakers and other thieves, who committed numberless
depredations on the public.
Milksop having, by one of his night-robberies, acquired a considerable sum of
money, bought a horse, and rode out in the character of a highwayman; but not
meeting any success in this way, he returned to his former practices, and then engaged
with a gang, of which Wilkinson and Lincoln were two, and was concerned in a great
number of other facts, besides that which brought him to a fatal end.
The behaviour of these malefactors under sentence of death was rather
hardened. They had been guilty of a great number of offences, for which they did not
appear to have a proper concern. Such was the conduct of Wilkinson, that the
Ordinary of Newgate refused to administer the sacrament to him; on which he said, if
he was not allowed to go to heaven with others, he would find the way alone. Lincoln
professed himself a Roman Catholic; and Milksop, among his other offences,
particularly lamented the committing a rape on a poor woman whom he robbed near
Caen-wood.
WILLIAM SPIGGOT AND THOMAS PHILLIPS
Who suffered the Torture for refusing to plead. Executed at Tyburn, 23rd of
February, 1723, for Robbery
The Punishment for Refusing to Plead
WILLIAM SPIGGOT and Thomas Phillips were indicted at the Old Bailey for
committing several robberies on the highway, but they refused to plead unless the
effects taken from them when they were apprehended were returned; but this being
directly contrary to an Act — the 4th and 5th of King William and Queen Mary —-
entitled "An Act for Encouraging the Apprehending of Highwaymen," the Court
informed them that their demand could not be complied with.
Still, however, they refused to plead, and no arguments could convince them
of the absurdity of such an obstinate procedure; on which the Court ordered that the
judgment ordained by law in such cases should be read, which is to the following
purpose:--
"That the prisoner should 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, or 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."
[This Act becoming barbarous to Englishmen, in 1772 it was determined that persons
refusing to plead should be deemed guilty, as if convicted by a jury: an alteration that
does honour to modern times]
The reading of this sentence producing no effect, they were ordered back to
Newgate, there to be pressed to death. But when they came to the press-room Phillips
begged to be taken back to plead — a favour that was granted, though it might have
been denied to him — but Spiggot was put under the press, where he continued half-
an-hour with three hundred and fifty pounds' weight on his body; but on the addition
of fifty pounds more he likewise begged to plead. In consequence thereof they were
again brought back, and again indicted, when, the evidence being clear and positive
against them, they were convicted, received sentence of death, and were executed,
along with Oakey, Levey and Flood.
William Spiggot, who was about twenty-seven years of age when he suffered,
was a native of Hereford, but coming to London, he apprenticed himself to a
cabinetmaker. He was a married man, and had three children living at the time of his
fatal exit. He and Phillips were hanged for robbing Charles Sybbald on Finchley
Common, and were convicted principally on the evidence of Joseph Linsey, a
clergyman of abandoned character, who had been of their party. One Burroughs, a
lunatic, who had escaped from Bedlam, was likewise concerned with them, but
afterwards publicly spoke of the affair, which occasioned their being taken into
custody; and when it was known that Burroughs was disordered in his mind, he was
sent back to Bedlam.
Thomas Phillips, aged thirty-three years, was a native of Bristol, totally
uneducated, and being sent to sea when very young, he served under Lord Torrington,
when he attacked and took the Spanish fleet in the Mediterranean Sea, near the
harbour of Cadiz. [The unfortunate Admiral Byng, whose case will be given in due
course in this work, was the son of this gallant nobleman]
Phillips returning to England, became acquainted with Spiggot and Linsey, in
company with whom he committed a great number of robberies on the highway.
Phillips once boasted that he and Spiggot robbed above an hundred passengers one
night, whom they obliged to come out of different waggons, and having bound them,
placed them by each other on the side of the road: but this story is too absurd to be
believed.
While under sentence of death, Phillips behaved in the most hardened and
abandoned manner; he paid no regard to any thing that the minister said to him, and
swore or sung songs while the other prisoners were engaged in acts of devotion; and,
towards the close of his life, when his companions became more serious, he grew still
more wicked; and yet, when at the place of execution, he said, "he did not fear to die,
for he was in no doubt of going to heaven."
RICHARD OAKEY, JOHN LEVEY, AND MATTHEW
FLOOD
Executed at Tyburn, on the 23rd of February, 1723, for robbery
At this time London and its environs were infested with desperate gangs of
villains, of which a felon of the name of Blake was the Macheath; and in which
character he was known as Captain Blueskin. In a few pages we shall give the
particulars of this depredator; who, on the present occasion, owed his escape alone to
his baseness in impeaching his associates in villainy.
Oakey, Levey, and Flood, three of this gang, were of the meanest origin, the
first being apprenticed to a tailor, from whom he soon ran away. The other two were
miserable, ignorant, yet most dangerous wretches, and from childhood were
pickpockets. With such as these Oakey associated himself, and for some time
procured a miserable subsistence by picking of pockets; and lie afterwards proceeded
to the practice of cutting off the pockets of women. In order to do this effectually, one
of them used to trip up the women's heels, while the other cut off the pocket: and they
generally got out of the reach of detection before the party robbed could recover her
legs.
Many of Oakey's associates belonged to Jonathan Wild's gang, who caused
several of them to be executed, when he could make no further advantage of them.
Having thus lost many of his old acquaintance, he became connected with a woman of
the town, who taught him the following singular method of robbery: in their
excursions through the streets the woman went a little before Oakey, and when she
observed a lady walking near where a coach was turning, she used to catch her in her
arms, crying, 'Take care, Madam, you will be run over!' and in the interim Oakey was
certain to cut off her pocket. But this way of life did not last long, for this abandoned
woman died soon after, in consequence of some bruises she received from a man
whom she had ill-treated; and, on her death, Oakey followed the practice of snatching
off pockets without a partner, and became one of the most dexterous in his profession.
Not long after this, he became acquainted with several housebreakers, who persuaded
him to follow their course of life, as more profitable than stealing of pockets. In the
first attempt they were successful; but the second, in which two others were
concerned with him, was the breaking open a shop in the Borough, from whence they
stole a quantity of calimancoes; for which offence Oakey was apprehended; on which
he impeached his accomplices, one of whom was hanged, and the other transported,
on Ins evidence.
Deterred from the thoughts of housebreaking by this adventure, he returned for
a while to his old employment, and then became acquainted wit h a man called Will
the Sailor, when their plan of robbery was this: Will, who wore a sword, used to
affront persons in the streets, and provoke them till they stripped to fight with him,
and then Oakey used to decamp with their clothes.
However, these associates in iniquity soon quarrelled, and parted; and Oakey,
who by this time was an accomplished thief, entered into Jonathan Wild's gang,
among whom were John Levey, Matthew Flood, and Blueskin. These men were for
some time the terror of travellers near London. Among other atrocious robberies, they
stopped a coach between Camberwell and London, in which were five men and a
woman. The men said they would deliver their money, but begged they would not
search, as the lady was with child. Blueskin, holding a hat, received the money the
passengers put into it, which appeared to be a considerable sum, but, on examination,
it was found to be chiefly halfpence. The gang suspected that Blueskin had defrauded
them, as it was not the first time he had cheated his fellow thieves: but they were
greatly mortified that they had neglected to search the coach, when they afterwards
learned there were three hundred pounds in it.
Some time after this Oakey, Levey, Flood, and Blueskin stopped Colonel
Cope and Mr Young, in a carriage, on their return from Hampstead, and robbed them
of their watches, rings, and money. Information of this robbery was sent to Jonathan
Wild, who caused the parties to be apprehended; and Blueskin being admitted an
evidence, they were tried, convicted, sentenced, and ordered for execution. After
conviction, their behaviour was exceedingly proper for persons in their calamitous
situation. Oakey said that what gave him more concern than all his other offences
was, the burning a will that he found with some money and rings in a pocket which he
had cut from a lady's side; a circumstance which proved highly detrimental to the
owner.
JACOB SAUNDERS
Who murdered a Farmer at Caversham, and was arrested at Church.
Executed in March, 1723
THIS inhuman wretch was born at Reading, in Berks. His father was a wool-
comber, and had the character of an honest man, but was blamed for not restraining
him enough in his youth, for he discovered his evil inclinations as soon as he was
capable of action, by pilfering and cheating his companions on every occasion.
Jacob was brought up to his father's trade, but work was not at all agreeable to
him. He chose much rather to be in the street, or at the head of any party in robbing
orchards, hen-roosts, etc. — crimes which are commonly the forerunners of greater
villainies. By these methods our young wool-comber came to be looked upon as a
vagabond while he was yet a boy and under the tuition of his father. When he came to
be about twenty years of age nothing would serve his turn but matrimony. So he
looked out for one who might be suitable. At last he got acquainted with one
Elizabeth Grey, with whom he soon struck up a match. The woman had no bad
character before, but had been employed in chair-work by a great many people in the
town. Nor was she ever charged with anything after this, but only the concealing of
his crimes too long; which might admit of some excuse, considering that she was his
wife. His reputation daily grew worse and worse a long time before the unhappy
accident that brought him to his end.
There was one Mr Blagrave, a farmer, who lived in Oxfordshire, about two
miles from Reading (the River Thames, which divides Berkshire and Oxfordshire,
running just by the said town), a man of plentiful fortune and a generous soul, beloved
by all both on account of his justice and his open free deportment on every occasion.
It was this gentleman's misfortune one Saturday, which is the market-day, to bring a
large quantity of corn to Reading and sell it together, receiving about sixty pounds in
payment. Saunders, by some means or other, got intelligence of this affair; and
knowing that Mr Blagrave commonly stayed pretty late in town to drink with his
friends, the devil put it into his head to dog him the remaining part of the day. Mr
Blagrave, in the evening, went to the sign of the Catherine Wheel, as usual, and stayed
there till he was a little in liquor, though not so much but he remembered his charge of
money, and gave it to the landlady. Jacob knew nothing of this last particular, though
he was now in the house; so that when he observed Mr Blagrave's condition he
resolved to follow him over the fields and take the opportunity of murdering him, for
the sake of his money.
Mr Blagrave saw the villain come in and sit down in the public-house; upon
which he asked him, with his usual good nature, how he did, ordering the people of
the house at the same time to bring him liquor, and paying for what he drank.
About eleven at night Mr Blagrave left the house, with intent to go home. He
crossed the meadows to Caversham, which is about a mile, and went through the
village very safely, without suspecting in the least that he was pursued. Jacob kept all
the way within hearing of the unhappy gentleman. When he came to Caversham he
took a large rugged club out of a baker's wood-stack, having before no weapon,
wherewith to perpetrate the horrid deed. As soon as they had got through the village
the villain mended his pace till he came up to Mr Blagrave's heels, whose security in
himself still hindered him from taking any notice of a man behind him. At last, when
they were within less than a mile of Mr Blagrave's habitation, Saunders stepped up,
just as he was crossing a stile, struck him on the head with his faggot-stick, and laid
him flat on the ground, still continuing to beat him in a most barbarous manner, till he
thought him quite dead. Yet, even then, he was afraid to search his pockets till he had
pulled off his own garters and bound him hand and foot. So unmanly and suspicious is
the nature of cruelty. How the monster was disappointed when, upon examination, he
found only a shilling and some halfpence instead of sixty or seventy pounds! Yet
there was no remedy; all he could do was to abuse the poor bruised, mangled and, as
he thought, dead body a little more; which he did by beating it again with his club and
stamping upon it with his feet. After he had done all this he went home to bed, not
speaking a word of the affair to his wife, who, nevertheless, observed him to be more
uneasy than ordinary.
Mr Blagrave, however, was not quite dead, though he lay without either sense
or motion till he was found in the morning, by some who knew him, and carried home
to his house, where surgeons were sent for immediately. These gave their opinion that
it was impossible for him to recover, though he might probably live some days, as his
constitution was very strong. It happened as they said, though all the time he
continued he was never able to give any account of his misfortune sufficient to fix the
murder upon any particular person. Yet as it had been observed that Jacob Saunders
was at the ale-house while Mr Blagrave was there, and that he went out much about
the same time with him, these circumstances, together with his bad character, created
a suspicion of him. This grew so strong that, before Sunday in the afternoon, some
persons in the town made it their business to find him out and observe his motions,
when they saw him, contrary to his custom, go to church, and look more heavy and
dull than usual, though he had always a downward countenance, almost sufficient to
have informed people what he was, and bade them beware of him.
While he was at church these persons went to the Mayor, and told him of their
suspicions, together with what they had observed and heard; desiring he might be
apprehended and examined. The Mayor accordingly granted his warrant, and the
officers were sent with it to the church door, where they seized him as he came out,
and committed him to the compter. In the meantime another warrant was granted to
take up his wife, in order to their being examined separately; and she was put into
another room of the same prison, so that they could not converse together. The Mayor
and some of his brethren went that same evening to the compter. When Jacob was
examined he strongly denied the fact, but seemed very much confused. His wife
confessed what time he came home, and the disorder he was in; and when the garters
with which Mr Blagrave's hands had been bound were shown her, she owned that she
believed they were her husband's garters. They were both ordered to be kept for
further examination.
Before next day Jacob found means to get out of the prison, but went no
farther than his father's, where he was found, hidden in an obscure garret, to which he
had conveyed himself without his father's knowledge. Upon fresh examination he
confessed the fact, and told where he had thrown the club with which he performed it.
They found the stick at the place he directed them to; whereupon he was committed to
the county jail. Understanding that when two or three are concerned in any felony or
murder, he that impeaches the rest saves his own life, it came into his head to fix this
bloody deed upon two other men whose characters were not sufficient to secure them
from being suspected. Accordingly he made affidavit before a justice, who came to
see him, against these two persons, who were thereupon seized, and sent immediately
to prison. They lay in jail almost the whole of a very cold winter for a fact of which
they were entirely innocent, merely through the unparalleled wickedness of Saunders,
which prompted him to stick at nothing.
At Reading Assizes, the March following, these men were set at liberty, and
Jacob, within two days after, was carried to Oxford, under a strong guard, the fatal
club being all the way borne before him. He was sentenced to be hanged in chains at
the spot where the shocking deed was perpetrated. However, as this place was near
the village of Caversham, the inhabitants prevailed to have it done on a heath about
four miles higher in Oxfordshire, called Gallows-Tree Common, from a tree in it, one
arm of which grows into another tree, and forms the likeness of a gallows. Here a
gibbet was erected. On Monday, about the middle of March, 1723, the wretch was
brought to his execution. He was turned off without any pity, and immediately after
he was dead he was hung up in irons.
CHRISTOPHER LAYER, ESQ.
Executed at Tyburn, March 15, 1723, for High Treason.
HERE we again find a hidden spark in the hotbed of rebellion, shooting out of
its expiring embers. This man, like all rebels, was a mere enthusiast, plotting deep
mischief, but like Colonel Despard, hereafter named, without a shadow of possibility
to carry his wickedness into effect.
Mr. Layer was born of very respectable parents, and received a very liberal
education, which being completed at the university, he was entered a student to the
honourable society of the Inner Temple. After the customary time he was called to the
bar, entered on the profession of a counsellor at law, and had so much practice, that he
seemed to be in the high road of making a large fortune.
Francis Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, had been disabled from holding his
preferments in the church, by an act of parliament passed in the year 1722, and was
banished from England for life, for his treasonable practices; and about this period
several other persons were concerned in similar designs, among whom counsellor
Layer was one of the most distinguished.
This infatuated man made a journey to Rome, where he held several
conferences with the Pretender, to whom he promised that he would effect so secret a
revolution in England, that no person in authority should be apprized of the scheme
till it had actually taken place.
Impressed with the idea that it was possible to carry his scheme into execution,
he came to England with a determination to effect it. 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 seized and confined during the
confusion that such an event would naturally produce.
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.
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. The counsellor met these soldiers at a public-house at Stratford, in Essex,
where he gave them the necessary instructions for seizing the king on his return from
the palace, and even fixed on the day when the plan was to be carried into execution.
Some of the people of the public-house having overheard the conversation,
spoke of it publicly in the neighbourhood; and some other circumstances of suspicion
arising, Mr. Layer was taken into custody by one of the king's messengers, in
consequence of a warrant from the secretary of state.
At this time Mr. Layer had two women in keeping, one in Southampton-
buildings, and the other in Queen-street, to both of whom he had given intimations of
the scheme he had in hand. The lodgings of these women were searched, such a
number of treasonable papers being found, that the intentions of the counsellor
appeared evident. When he was apprized that his papers were seized, and the women
bound to give evidence against him, he dispatched a messenger to the secretary of
state, informing him that he would make a discovery of all he knew, if he might be
permitted the use of pen, ink, and paper. This requisition was instantly complied with,
and it was the prevailing opinion that he would have been admitted an evidence
against his accomplices, if he had made the promised discovery: but it will appear that
he had no such intention.
Behind the house of the messenger in which he was confined, there was a
yard, which communicated with the yard of a public-house adjoining, and Mr. Layer
thought, if he could get from his confinement, it would be no difficult matter to escape
through the taproom of the ale-house, where it was not probable that he should be
known.
Having digested his plan, he cut the blankets of his bed into pieces, and tied
them together, and in the dusk of the evening dropped from his window; but falling on
a bottle-rack in the yard, he overset it; and the noise occasioned by the breaking of the
bottles was such that the family was alarmed; but Layer escaped during the confusion
occasioned by this incident.
Almost distracted by the loss of his prisoner, the messenger went in search of
him, and finding that he had taken a boat at the Horse-ferry, Westminster, he crossed
the water after him, pursued him through St: George's Fields, and caught him at
Newington Butts. Having brought him back to his house, and guarded him properly
for that night, he was examined by the secretary of state on the following day, and
committed to Newgate.
The king and council now determined that no time should be lost in bringing
Layer to trial; wherefore a writ was issued from the crown office, directed to the
sheriff of Essex, commanding him to empanel a grand jury, to inquire into such bills
as should be presented against the prisoner; in consequence of which the jury met at
Rumford, and found a bill against him for high treason, which was returnable in the
court of King's-bench.
Soon after the bill was found, the trial came on before Sit John Pratt, lord chief
justice and the other judges of that court. Mr. Layer had two counsellors to plead for
him, and they urged every possible argument that could be thought of in his behalf;
contesting every minute circumstance with the counsel for the crown, during a trial
that lasted sixteen hours; but at length the jury found the prisoner Guilty, after having
been out of court about an hour.
When the prisoner was brought up to receive sentence, his counsel made
another effort in his behalf, by urging the informality of some of the legal proceedings
against him; but their arguments being thought insufficient, the sentence ordained by
the law was passed on.
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; in consequence of which he was drawn on a sledge to Tyburn, dressed in a suit of
black full trimmed, and a tie-wig.
At the place of execution, he was assisted in his devotions by a non-juring
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 an usurper, and 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 effectually support the right heir to the
throne on some future occasion, though himself had failed of being the happy
instrument of placing him thereon.
After he was hanged, his body being quartered, his head was placed over
Temple-bar.
WILLIAM BURK
After an adventurous Seafaring Life as a Boy he became a Robber, and was
executed at Tyburn on the 8th of April, 1723
WILLIAM BURK was born in the parish of St Catherine's, and near the
Tower of London. Having reached the eleventh year of his age, he was guilty of some
faults that required severe chastisement, which having received, he ran away from
school and went to the water side, inquiring for a station on board a ship. A man
observing his inclination took him down to the Nore, and put him on board the
Salisbury man-of-war.
The mother, learning where her darling boy had gone, followed him on board
the ship, and endeavoured to prevail on him to return, but in vain, for the youth was
obstinately bent on a seafaring life.
In about a fortnight the ship sailed for Jamaica, and during the voyage had an
engagement with a Spanish galleon, which she took, after a bloody and obstinate
fight, in which young Burk was wounded. After this they met with another galleon,
which they took without the loss of a man , but a woman, the only one on board,
having the curiosity to look on the deck, lost her life by a chain shot, which severed
her head from her body. The common men shared each fifteen pounds prize money on
these captures, but some of the principal officers got sufficient to make them easy for
life.
The ship was stationed for three years in the West Indies, during which time
Burk learned the art of stealing every thing that he could secrete without detection. At
Jamaica there was a woman who had been transported from Newgate some years
before, but having married a planter, who soon died, she was left in affluent
circumstances, and took a tavern. Wanting a white servant, she prevailed on the
captain to let Will attend her customers.
The boy was pleased with his new situation, and might have continued in it as
long as he was on the island, but he could not refrain from defrauding his mistress; but
she herself had been a thief, and soon detected him. Thereupon he fell on his knees
and begged pardon, which was granted; but he was ordered to depart the house
immediately.
Alarmed at the danger from which he had escaped he seems to have formed a
temporary resolution to live honestly in future, and with that view shipped himself for
Maryland, where a merchant would have employed him but the captain he sailed with
would not permit him to accept the offer. Hence he made a voyage to the coast of
Guinea, where he had a very narrow escape of being murdered by the natives, who
killed several of his shipmates. On the return of his ship from Guinea to England the
weather was so bad that they were five months on their voyage, to the port of Bristol,
during which they suffered innumerable hardships. Their provisions were so reduced
that they were almost famished, the allowance of each man for the whole day being
not so much as he could eat at two mouthfuls; and at length they were obliged to fast
five days successively.
However they reached the port in safety; and, notwithstanding the miseries
they had endured, the captain resolved on another voyage to Guinea, in which Burk
accompanied him. Having purchased a number of slaves they set sail for the West
India islands, but during the voyage the Negroes concerted a scheme to make
themselves masters of the ship, and would probably have carried it into execution but
that one of their associates betrayed them; in consequence of which they were more
strictly confined than they had hitherto been.
Burk sailed from the West Indies to England, where he entered on board a man
of war and sailed up the Baltic, and afterwards to Archangel, to the north of Russia,
where his sufferings from the extremity of the cold and other circumstances were so
severe that on his return to England he determined to abandon the life of a sailor.
Being now quite out of all honest methods of getting his bread, he took to robbing
passengers in and near Stepney; but he continued his depredations on the public only
for a short time, being apprehended for committing the fourth robbery.
He was indicted at the sessions held at the Old Bailey in February, 1723, for
robbing William Fitzer on the highway, and again, on the same day, for robbing
James Westwood; and being found guilty on both indictments he received sentence of
death.
There was something remarkably cruel in the conduct of this malefactor, for
he carried a hedge bill with him, to terrify the persons he stopped; and one old man
hesitating to comply with his demand, he cut him so that he fell to the ground.
After conviction he became sensible of the enormity of his crimes, received
the Sacrament with great devotion, and declared that if he obtained mercy from God it
must be through the merits of Jesus Christ. He was executed at Tyburn, on the 8th of
April, 1723, in the twenty third year of his age.
SARAH PRIDDON, alias SALLY SALISBURY
Convicted of stabbing a gentleman in a brothel
Sally Salisbury stabbing a gentleman in a brothel
THERE is no state in human nature so wretched as that of the prostitute.
Seduced, abandoned to fate, the unhappy female falls a prey to want; or she must
purchase existence at a price degrading, in the last degree, to the mind of sensibility.
Subject to the lust and debauchery of every thoughtless blockhead, she becomes
hardened in shame. Hence modesty is put to the blush by the obscenity of those, once
pure as our own darling daughters. Every public place swarms with this miserable set
of beings, so that parents dread to indulge their children with even the sight of a moral
stage performance. The unhappy prostitute, heated by drink, acquires false spirits, in
order to inveigle men to her purpose; and, in so doing, she too often takes apparent
satisfaction in annoying, by looks and gestures, often by indecent words, the virtuous
part of the audience. The law, while it assumes the guardianship of youth by
suppressing immorality, still permits these wantons to rove, uncontrolled, among the
virtuous as well as the profligate. There ought, in public at least, some bounds to be
set — some check to the pernicious example. They may surely be restrained, at least
to the outward show of decency, when in mixed company.
Yet, says the philanthropist, they demand our pity. They do indeed! The cause,
while nature progresses, cannot be removed; but the legislature might do more to
regulate the evil than is done in this country. It is by some held a necessary evil,
tending, in its utmost extent, even to the benefit of the yet virtuous female; but a mind
once formed by precept and good example will ever repel a liberty attempted by a
profligate man; they are cowards when reproved by virtuous indignation.
We can only accord our tribute of pity to them, though about to give the
effects of prostitution in its greatest extent, by quoting the words of the poet, as
applied to the miseries of the unhappy Jane Shore:
'When she was mine, no arm came ever near her;
I thought the gentlest breath of heaven
Too rough to blow upon her.
Now, sad and shelterless, perhaps she wanders,
And the rain drops from some penthouse
On her wretched head, drenches her locks,
And kills her with the cold.'
On the 24th of April, 1723, Sarah Priddon was indicted at the Old Bailey, for
making a violent assault on the Hon. J— F—, and stabbing him with a knife in his left
breast, and giving him a wound of which he long languished, with an intent to kill and
murder him.
Mrs. Priddon, or rather Salisbury (for that was the name by which she was best
known), was a woman of the town, who was well acquainted with the gentleman
whom she wounded. It appeared on the trial that Mr. F. having gone to the Three Tuns
tavern in Chandos Street, Covent Garden, about midnight, Sally followed him thither
soon afterwards. The drawer, after he had waited on Mr. F. went to bed; but at two in
the morning he was called up, to draw a pint of Frontiniac for Mrs. Salisbury. This he
did, and carried it to her with a French roll and a knife. The prisoner was now in
company and conversation with Mr. F. and the drawer heard them disputing about an
Opera ticket, which he had presented to her sister; and, while they were talking, she
stabbed him; on which he put his hand to his breast, and said, 'Madam, you have
wounded me.'
No sooner had she committed the fact than she appeared sincerely to regret
what she had done: she sent for a surgeon, who finding it necessary to extend the
wound, that the blood might flow outwardly, she seemed terrified, and, calling out 'O
Lord! what are you doing?' fainted away.
On her recovery, she asked Mr. F. how he did; to which he answered, 'Very
bad, and worse than you imagine.' She endeavoured to console him in the best manner
she could, and, after some time, the parties went away in separate chairs; but not till
the wounded gentleman had forgiven her, and saluted her as a token of that
forgiveness.
The counsel for the prisoner endeavoured to prove that she had no Intention of
wounding him with malice prepense; and that what she did arose from a sudden start
of passion, the consequence of his having given an Opera ticket to her sister, with a
view to ingratiate her affections, and debauch her.
The counsel for the Crown ridiculed this idea, and insinuated that a woman of
Mrs. Salisbury's character could not be supposed to have any very tender regard for
her sister's reputation. They allowed that Mr. F. had readily forgiven her at the time;
but insisted that this was a proof of the placability of his temper, and no argument in
her favour.
They said that, if the gentleman had died of the wound, she would have been
deemed guilty of murder, as she had not received the least provocation to commit the
crime; and that the event made no difference with respect to the malignity of her
intentions.
The jury, having considered the circumstances of the case, found her guilty of
assaulting and wounding Mr. F. but acquitted her of doing it with an intent to kill and
murder him. In consequence hereof she was sentenced to pay a fine of one hundred
pounds, to be imprisoned for a year, and then to find security for her good behaviour
for two years; but, when she had suffered about nine months' imprisonment, she died
in Newgate, and was buried in the church-yard of St. Andrew, Holborn.
ALEXANDER DAY, Alias MARMADUKE DAVENPORT,
ESQ.
A Sharper
THE mode of plunder practised by this villain at the time of committing his
depredations was not common; but now the great metropolis of our country abounds
with such insidious robbers. This kind of thieving, in modern times is called
SWINDLING, and the latter part of our pages will adduce instances of the tricks of
sharpers, passing almost credibility. The fellow now before us was, however,
circumstances considered, an adept, and, like our modern swindlers, had a fictitious
name; an accomplice, sometimes acting as his footman; a hired horse; and borrowed
carriage.
The great qualifications, or leading and indispensable attributes, of a sharper
or swindler, are, to possess a genteel exterior, a demeanour apparently artless, and a
good address.
Among the various classes of sharpers may be reckoned those who obtain
licenses to become pawnbrokers, and bring disgrace upon the reputable part of the
trade by every species of fraud which can add to the distresses of those who are
compelled to raise money in this way; for which purpose there are abundance of
opportunities. Swindling pawnbrokers of this class are uniformly receivers of stolen
goods; and, under the cover of their license, do much mischief to the public. The evil
arising from them might, in a great measure, be prevented by placing the power of
granting licenses in a general board of police; and rendering it necessary for all
persons to produce a certificate of character before they can obtain such license, and
also to enter into recognizance for good behaviour.
Also sharpers who obtain licenses to be hawkers and pedlars; under the cover
of which every species of villainy is practised upon the country people, as well as
upon the unwary in the metropolis, and all the great towns in the kingdom. The
artifices by which they succeed are various, as for example, by fraudulent raffles,
where plated goods are exhibited as silver, and where the chances are exceedingly
against the adventurers; by selling and uttering base money, and frequently forged
bank notes, which make one of the most profitable branches of their trade; by dealing
in smuggled goods, thereby promoting the sale of articles injurious to the revenue,
besides cheating the ignorant with regard to their value; by receiving stolen goods, to
be disposed of in the country, by which discoveries are prevented, and assistance
afforded to common thieves and stationary receivers; by purchasing stolen horses in
one part of the country and disposing of them in another, in the course of their
journeys; in accomplishing which, so as to elude detection, they have great
opportunities, by gambling with E-O tables at fairs and horse-races.
A number of other devices might be pointed out, which render this class of
men great nuisances in society, and show the necessity of either suppressing them
totally (for, in fact, they are of little use to the public), or of limiting the licenses only
to men of good character; to be granted by a general board of police, under whose
control they should be placed, while they enter at the same time into a recognizance in
a certain sum, with one surety for good behaviour; by which the honest part would be
retained, to the exclusion of the fraudulent.
Also sharpers known by the name of duffers, who go about from house to
house, and attend public houses, inns, and fairs, pretending to sell smuggled goods,
such as India handkerchiefs, waistcoat patterns, muslins, &c. By offering their goods
for sale, they are enabled to discover the proper objects which may be successfully
practised upon in various ways; and, if they do not succeed in promoting some
gambling scheme, by which the party is plundered of his money, they seldom fail
passing forged country bank notes, or base coin, in the course of their dealings.
In London a number of female sharpers also infest public places. They dress
elegantly, personate women of fashion, attend masquerades, and even go to Court.
These, from their effrontery, actually get into the circle, where their wits and hands
are employed in obtaining diamonds, and whatever other articles of value, capable of
being concealed, are found to be most accessible.
The wife of a well-known sharper is said to have appeared at Court, dressed in
a style of peculiar elegance; while the sharper himself is supposed to have gone in the
dress of a clergyman. According to the information of a noted receiver, they pilfered
to the value of L.1700 on the king's birthday, 1795, without discovery or suspicion.
Houses are kept where female cheats dress and undress for public places.
These sharpers generally attend all masquerades, in different characters, where they
seldom fail to get clear off with a considerable booty.
The first deception which we find played off by Alexander Day was to take an
elegant house in Queen Square, and then to send his pretended footman to a livery
stable, to inquire the price of a pair of horses, which he himself afterwards agreed to
purchase, and then desired the stable-keeper to recommend him a coachman, a man
rather lusty, as he had a suit of livery clothes of a large size by him.
The man was accordingly recommended; but, when the livery was tried on,
Day observed, that, as they did not fit him, he would send into the country for his own
coachman; but this objection was obviated by the footman, who saying that the
clothes would fit, with a small alteration, the 'squire consented to hire the man.
When the stable-keeper saw the coachman he had recommended, he inquired
to what places he had driven his new master; and, being informed to the Duke of
Montague's, and other persons of rank, he seemed satisfied, though he had begun to
form ideas unfavourable to his new customer.
Mr. Day, having kept his coach and horses something more than a week, gave
orders to be driven to a coffee-house in Red Lion Square, where he drank half a pint
of wine at the bar, and asked if some gentlemen were come, whom he expected to
supper. Being answered in the negative, he went out at the back door without paying
for his wine, and said he would return in a few minutes.
The coachman waited a long time: but, his master not coming back, he drove
to the stable-keeper's, who seemed glad to have recovered his property out of such
dangerous hands.
It seems that Day made no small use of this coach while it was in his
possession. He drove to the shop of a lace-merchant, named Gravestock, and asked
for some Spanish point; but, the dealer having none of that kind by him, the 'squire
ordered fifty-five pounds' worth of gold lace to be sent to his house in Queen Square.
When Gravestock's servant carried the lace, Day desired him to tell his master to call,
as he was in want of lace for some rich liveries, but he must speak with his tailor
before he could ascertain the quantity wanted. Mr. Gravestock attended his new
customer, who gave him so large an order for lace, that if he had executed it, he must
have been a very considerable loser, and the 'squire's liveries would have been gayer
than those of any nobleman in London: however, on the following day, he carried
some lace of the sort he had left before; nor did he forget to take his bill with him; but
the person who should have paid it had decamped.
The next trick practised by our adventurer was as follows: he went to the
house of Mr. Markham, a goldsmith, and ordered a gold equipage worth L.50.
Markham carried home the equipage, and had the honour to drink tea with the
supposed Mr. Davenport, who ordered other curious articles; among the rest, a chain
of gold for his squirrel.
Mr. Markham observing that the squirrel wore a silver chain, which he had
sold to a lady not long before, began to suspect his new customer; and, waiting on the
lady, inquired if she knew Marmaduke Davenport, Esq. She answered in the negative;
on which Markham mentioned the circumstance that had arisen, and described the
person of the defrauder. The lady now recollected him, and said that his name was
Alexander Day, and that he had cheated her of property to a considerable amount. In
consequence of this information, Markham arrested the sharper, and recovered his
property.
On another occasion, Day went in his carriage to the shop of a linen-draper,
named Scrimshaw, agreed for linen to the amount of L.48 and ordered a large quantity
to be sent to his house on the following day, when he would pay for the whole. The
first parcel was delivered, but the purchaser had decamped when the linen-draper
went with the second.
After this he went to the shop of a tea-dealer, named Kenderick, and ordered
tea to the amount of L.26. The tea was sent in, and the proprietor called for payment,
when Day gave him orders for a farther quantity, which he pretended to have forgot
before, and told him to call the next morning, when he should be paid for it by the
steward. The honest tea-dealer called the next day, but neither the 'squire nor steward
were to be found.
His next adventure was contrived to defraud Mr. Hinchcliffe, a silk-mercer.
Day, going to his shop in his absence, left word for him to call at his house to receive
a large order. The mercer went, and saw a carriage at the door; and, being told that the
'squire had company, he waited a short time, during which the servant took care to
inform him that Mr. Davenport was the son of a baronet of Yorkshire, and possessed a
large fortune in that county.
When he saw the supposed Mr. Davenport, he was told that he wanted some
valuable silks, and wished that a quantity might be sent for him, to select such as he
approved. Mr. Hinchcliffe said that the choice would be much better made by fixing
on the patterns at his shop.
Hereupon Day took the mercer in his coach, and on their way talked of his
father, Sir Marmaduke, and of other people of rank; and said he was on the point of
marriage with the daughter of Counsellor Ward, and, as he should be under the
necessity of furnishing a house in London, he should want mercery goods to a large
amount.
When they came to the mercer's shop, Day selected as many damasks, &c. for
bed furniture and hangings, as were worth a thousand pounds. It looks as if
Hinchcliffe had now some suspicions; for he told him that the ladies were the best
judges of such articles, and asked if he had not a lady of his acquaintance, whom he
could consult. He readily answered that he had, and mentioned a Lady Davenport as
his relation, saying, "Send the silks to my house, and I will take her opinion of them."
Mr. Hinchcliffe said he would send them, and permitted him to take with him
two pieces of brocade, worth about thirty pounds; but, desirous to know more of his
customer before he trusted him with the whole property, he went to Counsellor Ward,
and found that his daughter was already married to a gentleman of the name of
Davenport. Here upon the mercer went to the house of the supposed 'squire, but he
was gone off with what property he had obtained.
It was likewise discovered that our adventurer, having casually met, at a
coffee-house, the Mr. Davenport who had married the daughter of Counsellor Ward,
had prevailed on him to call him cousin, on the pretence that they must be related,
because, as he alleged, their coats of arms were the same.
After a course of fraud, Day was taken into custody in the month of May,
1723, on suspicion of his having robbed the mail; but it proved that he was not the
man: however, there were six indictments brought against him for the defrauds.
In his defence he pleaded that his intention was to have paid for the goods he
had purchased on credit; and he asserted that he possessed an estate in the county of
Durham, which he had mortgaged for L.1200; but no credit could be given to his
allegations; nor, even if he had possessed such an estate, would it have appeared that
he acted on an honest principle.
After a long trial he was convicted, and sentenced to suffer two years'
imprisonment in Newgate, to stand twice in the pillory, to pay a fine of L.200 and to
give security for his good behaviour for two years after the term of his imprisonment
should be expired.
As it is one professed design of this publication to guard innocent people
against the schemes of the artful and designing, we would earnestly recommend it to
people in trade never to give credit to strangers from the speciousness of their
appearance, or the plausibility of their behaviour.
The villain who can defraud a coach-maker out of a carriage, or even raise
money to hire one of an elegant appearance, has nothing to do but take genteel
lodgings, and put an accomplice or two into livery, and his scheme usually succeeds.
The splendid appearance of the supposed master, and the artful puffs of the servants,
generally serve to lull suspicion asleep.
When inquiry is made into the character of a person who is supposed to be a
man of honour and fortune, the inquirer should consider whether the person who gives
him this character is deserving of that of an honest man: for these artful rogues, when
they find any person is suspicious of them, have a method of referring to as great
rogues as themselves for a character. The tradesman, then, who would not be imposed
on, should take characters only from respectable people, who will never deceive him,
unless they have been deceived themselves.
WILLIAM HAWKSWORTH
Soldier, who killed a Civilian with his Musket in St James's Park. Executed
at Tyburn on the 17th of June, 1723
THIS criminal was born of reputable parents, who gave him such an education
as was proper to qualify him for a creditable trade; but being of a disposition too
unsettled to think of business, he enlisted in London as a soldier in the Foot Guards.
At this period party disputes ran very high, and the soldiers were frequently the
subjects of the contempt and derision of the populace. While Hawksworth was
marching with other soldiers to relieve the guard in St James's Park a man named
Ransom, who had a woman in his company, jostled him, and cried: "What a stir is
here about King George's soldiers!" Hawksworth quitted his rank and gave the
woman a blow on the face. Irritated thereby, Ransom called him a puppy, and
demanded the reason of his behaviour to her.
The term of reproach enraged Hawksworth to such a degree that he knocked
the other down with his musket, and then the soldiers marched on to relieve the guard.
In the meantime the crowd of people gathered round Ransom, and, finding he was
much wounded, put him in a chair and sent him to a surgeon, who examined him and
found his skull fractured to such a degree that there were no hopes of his recovery;
and he died in a few hours. Thereupon a person who had been a witness to what
passed in the Park went to the Savoy, and, having learned the name of the offender,
caused Hawksworth to be taken into custody, and he was committed to Newgate.
Being brought to his trial at the following sessions, the colonel whom he had served
gave him an excellent character; but the facts were so clearly proved that the jury
could not do otherwise than convict him, and judgment of death was passed
accordingly. A few minutes before he was executed he made a speech to the
surrounding multitude, advising them to keep a strict guard over their passions; he
lamented the situation of the common soldiers, who are considered cowards if they do
not resent an injury, and if they do, are liable to endure legal punishment for the
consequences that may arise from such resentment. However, he advised his brethren
of the army to submit with patience to the indignities that might be offered, and trust
to the goodness of God to recompense their sufferings.
THOMAS ATHOE, THE ELDER, AND THOMAS ATHOE,
THE YOUNGER
Executed for murder
THIS murder was attended with shocking barbarity; and, when we have to
relate that it was committed by father and son, the relation becomes additionally
painful. A solitary murder is sufficiently detestable; but when it is proved that a parent
advises, aids, and abets his child in the horrid purpose, we are shocked at the extent of
human depravity.
The elder Athoe was a native of Carew, in Pembrokeshire, where he rented
above a hundred pounds per annum, and had lived in such a respectable way, that in
the year 1721 he was chosen mayor of Tenby, and his son a bailiff of the same
corporation; though they did not live in this place, but at Mannerbeer, two miles
distant from it.
George Merchant (of whose murder they were convicted) and his brother
Thomas were nephews, by the mother's side, to the elder Athoe, their father having
married his sister.
On the 23d of November, 1722, a fair was held at Tenby, where the Athoes
went to sell cattle, and there met with George Merchant and his brother Thomas. A
quarrel arose between the younger Athoe and George Merchant, on an old grudge,
respecting their right to part of an estate; when a battle ensued, in which George had
the advantage, and beat young Athoe. The elder Athoe, taking the advice of an
attorney on what had passed, would have persuaded him to bring an action; to which
he replied, 'No, no, we won't take the law; but we'll pay them in their own coin.'
Late in the evening, after the fair was ended, the Merchants left the town; but
the Athoes, going to the inn, inquired of the ostler which way they went. He gave
them the best information in his power, on which they immediately mounted, and
followed them. The brothers stopped on the road, at a place called Holloway's Water,
to let their horses drink. In the mean time they heard the footsteps of other horses
behind them, and, turning about, saw two men riding at a small distance. It was too
dark for them to know the parties, but they presently heard the voice of old Athoe.
Knowing that he had sworn revenge, and dreading the consequence that would
probably ensue, they endeavoured to conceal themselves behind a bridge, but they
were discovered by the splashing of their horses' feet in the water. The Athoes riding
up with large sticks, the younger said to George Merchant, 'I owe thee a pass, and
now thou shalt have it;' and immediately knocked him off his horse.
In the interim, old Athoe attacked Thomas Merchant, and beat him likewise
from his horse, calling out, at the same time, 'Kill the dogs! kill the dogs!' The
brothers begged hard for their lives, but they pleaded to those who had no idea of pity.
The elder Athoe seized Thomas Merchant in the tenderest part, and squeezed him in
so violent a manner that human nature could not long have sustained the pain; while
the younger Athoe treated George Merchant in a similar way, and carried his revenge
to such a length that it is not possible to relate the horrid deed with decency. When he
had completed his execrable purpose, be called out to his father, saying, 'Now I have
done George Merchant's business.'
A great effusion of blood was the consequence of this barbarity; but his savage
revenge was not yet glutted: seizing George Merchant by the nose with his teeth, he
bit it off, and then strangled him, by tying a handkerchief tight round his neck.
This done, the murderers quitted the spot; but some persons coming by took
the Merchants to an adjacent house, and sent for a surgeon, who dressed the wound of
Thomas, but found that George was dead. The surgeon declared that the blows be had
received were sufficient to have killed six or seven men; for he had two bruises on his
breast, three large ones on his head, and twenty-two on his back.
The elder Athoe was taken into custody on the following day, but the son had
fled to Ireland: however, those who had been concerned in favouring his escape wore
glad to use their endeavours to get him back again. The murder was committed in
Pembrokeshire, but the prisoners were removed by a writ of Habeas Corpus to
Hereford, and, on the 19th March, 1723, they were indicted for the murder.
On the trial, the principal evidence against them was the surviving brother,
who was even then so weak as to be indulged to sit down while he gave his evidence;
but the jury, though satisfied of the commission of the murder, entertained a doubt
whether the prisoners could be legally tried in any county but that in which the crime
was committed; on which they brought in a special verdict: whereupon the case was
referred to the determination of the twelve judges; and the prisoners, being brought up
to London, were committed to the King's Bench prison, where they remained till the
22d of June, 1723, and were then taken to the Court of King's Bench, in Westminster
Hall; when, a motion being made by counsel in arrest of judgment, the Court directed
that an act of the 33d of Henry VIII. should be read, in which is a clause, ordaining
that 'All murders and robberies committed in, on, or about the borders of Wales, shall
be triable in any county of England where the criminal shall be taken; and that the
Court of King's Bench shall have power to move, by writ of Habeas Corpus, any
prisoner confined in Wales to the next county of England, to be tried.'
In consequence hereof, the Court proceeded to give judgment, and the
prisoners were remanded to the King's Bench prison.
Between this and the time of their execution they were visited by Mr. Dyche,
the chaplain of the prison, and by several other divines. They continued to flatter
themselves with the hope of life till the warrant came down for their execution, and
endeavoured to extenuate the crime by a variety of frivolous pretences, respecting
disputes between them and the deceased.
On the 28th of June they received the sacrament with great devotion, and did
the same again on the morning of their execution. Their behaviour at the place of
death is thus recorded by the minister who attended them: 'On Friday, the 5th of July,
1723, about eleven o'clock in the morning, they were conveyed in a cart to the place
of execution. When they came to the fatal tree, they behaved themselves in a very
decent manner, embracing each other with the utmost tenderness and affection; and,
indeed, the son's hiding his face, bedewed with tears, in his father's bosom,, was,
notwithstanding the barbarous action they had committed, a very moving spectacle.
They begged of all good people to take warning by their ignominious death; and were
turned off, crying, "Lord, have mercy upon us! Christ, have mercy upon us!" The
bodies were brought from the place of execution in two hearses to the Falcon inn, in
Southwark, in order to be buried in St. George's church-yard.'
They suffered at a place called St. Thomas's Watering, a little below Kent
Street, in Surrey, the father being fifty-eight years old, and the son within one day of
twenty-four, at the time of their deaths.
We shall seldom hear of a murder so barbarous, so deliberate, so unprovoked,
as this in question. Little, surely, need be said to deter any of our readers from the
slightest idea of being guilty of a crime of so atrocious a nature; nor need we add any
thing to our former remark on so heinous an offence as that of imbruing our hands in
the blood of our fellow-creatures. Be it sufficient to remark that there is a just God
who judgeth the earth, and that all our most secret actions are open to his sight. From
his view our most careful precautions cannot screen, nor can the darkness of night
cover us. Let us then learn so to conduct ourselves as not to blush to stand in the
presence of our God. Happy the man who, fortified by religious considerations, can
arrive at this degree of Christian perfection!
CAPTAIN JOHN MASSEY
Executed at Execution-Dock, July 26, 1723, for Piracy. (A Very Hard Case.)
IN transcribing the record and particulars of this truly unfortunate man, we had
no conception that he would have appeared among those who suffered the extreme
sentence of the law. Indeed, we rather thought his conduct, making allowance for the
critical way in which he was situated, meritorious, than really guilty; but; when we
found that he actually pleaded guilty to the charge laid against him in the indictment,
we were left in wonder at the mysterious ways of Providence.
Captain Massey was the son of a gentleman of fortune, who gave him an
excellent education. When young, though somewhat wild and wavering in his mind,
yet we find no flagitious conduct imputed to him. He grew weary of home, and
thirsted to taste the pleasures of a world in which he was doomed to act an unhappy
part. His father 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. On his return to England, he conducted himself
with great decency, but became acquainted with a woman of bad character, to whom
he was so much attached that he would undoubtedly have married her, if his father,
who got intelligence of the affair, had not happily broke off the connection. After this
he went with his regiment to Ireland, where he lived for some time in a dissolute
manner, but 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, and those of the worst kind, the sufferings of
the crew were inexpressibly great. Every Officer on board died except Massey, and
many of the soldiers likewise fell a sacrifice to the scandalous neglect. Those who
lived to get on shore drankso greedily of the fresh water, that they were thrown into
fluxes, which destroyed them in such a rapid manner, that only Captain Massey and a
very few of his people were left 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 relief. They were no sooner on board, than they found the
vessel was a pirate; and, distressed as they had been, perhaps too hastily engaged in
their lawless plan, or appeared so to do, rather than run the hazard of perishing on
shore. Sailing from hence, they took several prizes and though the persons made
prisoners were not used with cruelty, Mr. Massey had so true a sense of the illegality
of the proceedings in which he was concerned, that his mind was perpetually
tormented with the idea of the fatal consequences that might ensue. At length the ship
reached Jamaica, when 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 being caressed,
he was taken into custody, and committed till a sessions of admiralty was held for his
trial, when he pleaded guilty, and received sentence of death. As his case was
remarkable, the public entertained no doubt but that he would have been pardoned;
however, a warrant was sent for his execution, and he made the most solemn
preparation for his approaching fate. Two clergymen attended him at the place of
execution, where he freely acknowledged his sins in general, was remarkably fervent
in his devotions, and seemed perfectly resigned to his fatal destiny. Though the
captain pleaded guilty at his trial, for guilty in some measure he was, yet his joining
the pirates was evidently an act of necessity, not of choice; add to which, his
subsequent conduct at Jamaica proved that he took the earliest opportunity to abandon
his late companions, and bring them to justice; a conduct by which he surely merited
the thanks of his country, and not the vengeance of the law. We sincerely hope that no
future king will under such circumstances, sign a warrant for execution.
PHILIP ROCHE
Executed on 5th of August, 1723, for many Murders on the High Seas and
Piracy
Roche and his Villainous Companions Throwing their Victims Overboard
WE have already commented upon the foul crime of piracy. The account now
to be given of this atrocious offender will show to what a horrid pitch it has been
carried; and happy should we feel ourselves if we could add that this was a singular
case. In latter years we find that murder, foul as that committed by Roche, was
practised on board of one of our men-of-war, in which Captain Pigot, her commander,
was barbarously killed; and the mutinous crew seized the frigate, and delivered her to
the enemy.
This detested monster, Philip Roche, was a native of Ireland, and, being
brought up to a seafaring life, served for a considerable time on board some coasting
vessels, and then sailed to Barbados on board a West Indiaman. Here he endeavoured
to procure the place of a clerk to a factor, but failing in this he went again to sea, and
was advanced to the station of a first mate.
He now became 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. Roche was wicked enough to listen to this horrid
tale, and becoming acquainted with a gentleman who had a ship bound for Cape
Breton he got a station on board, next in command to the captain, who, having a high
opinion of him, trusted the ship to his management, directing the seamen to obey his
commands.
If Roche had entertained any idea of sinking the ship, he seemed now to have
abandoned it; but he had brought on board with him five Irishmen, who were
concerned in the shocking tragedy that ensued.
When they had been only a few days at sea the plan was executed as follows.
One night, when the captain and most of the crew were asleep, Roche gave orders to
two of the seamen to furl the sails, which being immediately done, the poor fellows no
sooner descended on to the deck than Roche and his hellish associates murdered them
and threw them overboard. At this instant a man and a boy at the yard-arm, observing
what had 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, where Roche instantly seized him, murdered him, and then threw him
overboard. The noise occasioned by these transactions alarming the sailors below,
they hurried up with all possible expedition; but they were severally seized and
murdered as fast as they came on deck, being first knocked on the head, and then
thrown into the sea. At length the master and mate came on the quarterdeck, when
Roche and his villainous companions seized them and, tying them back to back,
committed them to the merciless waves.
These execrable murders being perpetrated, the murderers ransacked the
chests of the deceased, then sat down to regale themselves with liquor; and while the
profligate crew were carousing they determined to commence as pirates, and that
Roche should be the captain, as the reward of his superior villainy.
They had intended to have sailed up the Gulf of St Lawrence, but as they were
within a few days' sail of the British Channel when the bloody tragedy was acted, and
finding 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. Here they were unknown;
and 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 Roche 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. Being carried before the Secretary of State
for examination, he averred that he was not Philip Roche, and said that he knew no
person of that name. Hereupon the intercepted letter was shown him, on which he
instantly confessed his crimes, and was immediately committed to take his trial at the
next Admiralty Sessions.
It was intimated to Roche that he might expect a pardon if he would impeach
any three persons who were more culpable than himself, so that they might be
prosecuted to conviction; but not being able to do this he was brought to his trial, and
found guilty. Judgment of death was awarded against him.
After conviction he professed to be of the Roman Catholic faith, but was
certainly no bigot to that religion, since he attended the devotions according to the
Protestant form. He was hanged at Execution Dock, on the 5th of August, 1723, but
was so ill at the time, that he could not make any public declaration of the abhorrence
of the crime for which he suffered.
It is impossible to read this shocking narrative without execrating the memory
of the wretches whose crimes gave rise to it. History has not furnished us with any
account of what became of the wicked accomplices of Roche; but there can be little
doubt of their having dragged on a miserable existence, if they did not end their lives
at the gallows.
The mind of the guilty must be perpetually racked with torment; and the
murderer who is permitted to live does but live in wretchedness and despair. His days
must be filled with anxiety, and his nights with torture.
From the fate of the miserable subject of this narrative, let our sailors be taught
that an honest pursuit of the duties of their station is more likely to ensure happiness
to them than the possession of any sum of money unlawfully obtained. Our brave tars
are not, from their situation in life, much accustomed to the attendance on religious
duties: but it can cost them no trouble to recollect that to "do justice and love mercy"
is equally the character of the brave man and the Christian.
WILLIAM DUCE, JAMES BUTLER, — WADE, and –
MEADS
A desperate and cruel gang of murderers and footpads. Executed at Tyburn,
August 14, 1723.
THE reader has doubtless observed that this work shews that there are
different grades of thieves. The boy, when abandoned to profligacy, commences his
career by picking pockets, and a single handkerchief is then the extent of his hopes.
Hardening with his years, he advances a step in villainy, and becomes a footpad, the
most cruel description of robbers. If success should, for a while, attend his enormities,
he proceeds to steal a horse, and throwing away the footpad's bludgeon or knife, he
appears mounted on the highway, armed with a brace of pistols. Arrived now at the
highest rank of thievery, he despises the lower posts, and stiles himself a gentleman
highwayman. To do honour to his post, he scorns to use that violence where there is
no show of resistance, which, as a footpad, he exercised often through wantonness.
His fame, if industrious, however, sooner reaches the knowledge of the myrmidons of
justice, than if he had grovelled as a foot-robber; and his career is happily thus sooner
at an end..
Duce was a native of Wolverhampton, and by trade a buckle-maker, which he
followed some time in London; but being imprisoned in Newgate for debt, he there
made connexions which greatly tended to the corruption of his manners.
He was no sooner at large than he commenced pad, and, in company with
another man, robbed a gentleman in Chelsea-fields, of four guineas; after this he
connected himself with John Dyer and James Butler, in concert with whom he
committed a variety of robberies. Their plan was to go out together, but one only to
attack the party intended to be robbed; giving a signal for his accomplices to come up
if any resistance should be made.
After committing a variety of robberies in the neighbourhood of London, they
joined in a scheme, with four other villains, to rob Lady Chudleigh, between Hyde-
Park-Corner and Kensington; but her ladyship's footman shot one of the gang, named
Rice, through the head, which prevented the intended depredation.
Their robberies had now been so numerous, that, the neighbourhood of
London became unsafe for them; wherefore they went on the Portsmouth road, where
they committed a variety of robberies, and even proceeded to the perpetration of
murder, with a view to prevent detection.
Meeting Mr. Bunch, a farmer, near a wood on the road side, they robbed him
of his money, and then dragging him into the wood, they stripped him.
Darker, Wade, and, Meads, three of the gang, were hanged at Winchester; but
Butler was sent to take his trial at the Old Bailey, for robberies committed in the
county of Middlesex.
James Butler was the son of reputable parents, of the parish of St. Ann, Soho,
and apprenticed to a silversmith; but being of an ungovernable disposition, his parents
were obliged to send him to sea. After making several voyages, as an apprentice to the
captain, he ran from the ship at Boston, in New England, and went to New York,
where he entered on board another ship, from which he likewise ran away, and
embarked in a third vessel bound to Martinique. This he also quitted, in a dispute with
the captain, and then sailed to Jamaica, where he was impressed into the royal navy,
and served under the celebrated Admiral Vernon.
On his return to England, he married a girl of Wapping, and having soon spent
the little money he brought home with him, he engaged with the gang we have
mentioned, with whom he was likewise concerned in several other robberies,
These appear to have been very desperate villains. On the road to Gravesend,
they stopped four gentlemen, who refusing to be robbed, Meads, one of those hanged
at Winchester, shot a servant who attended them, in the breast, so that he died in a few
days. Disappointed of their booty in this attempt, their passions were so irritated, that,
meeting a gentleman on horseback, they fired, and wounded him in the head and
breast, and the next day he expired.
They committed other robberies, attended with circumstances of cruelty, but it
will be now proper to mention those for which they suffered. Butler having been
acquitted at the Old Bailey of the crime for which he was transmitted from
Winchester, he, Duce, and Dyer, immediately renewed their depredations on the road.
Meeting Mr. Holmes near Buckingham House, they robbed him of his money, hat,
and handkerchief, which laid the foundation of one of the indictments against them.
On the following evening they stopped a hackney-coachman near Hampstead,
and robbed him of nine shillings, after the coachman had told them that the words
"stand and deliver," were sufficient to hang a man. Jonathan Wild being informed of
these robberies, caused the offenders to be apprehended at a house kept by Duce's
sister. Dyer being admitted an evidence, Duce and Butler were brought to their trial,
when the latter pleaded guilty to both the indictments; and the former, after spending
some time in denying the robberies, and arraigning the conduct of Jonathan Wild, was
found guilty, and both of them received sentence of death.
After conviction their behaviour was more resigned and devout than could
have been expected from men, whose repeated crimes might be supposed to have
hardened their hearts, and death appeared to them in all its horrors. Butler was a
Roman Catholic, and Duce a Protestant. The latter was urged by the ordinary to
discover the names of some of his old accomplices, but this he refused to do, because
they had left their practices, and lived honest lives.
A few moments before they were launched into eternity, Butler declared that
the circumstances of cruelty with which their crimes had been attended, gave him
more pains than the thoughts of death; and Duce acknowledged the enormity of his
offences, and begged the forgiveness of all whom he had injured.
HUMPHRY ANGIER
Executed at Tyburn, September 9, 1723, for Robbery.
HUMPHRY ANGIER was a native of Ireland, born near Dublin, but his
parents removing to Cork, put him apprentice to a cooper in that city. He had not been
long in this station before his master desired to get rid of him, on account of his
untoward disposition. Thus discharged, he lived the life of a vagabond for two years,
and his father apprehending that he would come to a fatal end, brought him to
England in the eighteenth year of his age. Still, however, he continued his dissipated
course of life, till having got considerably in debt, he enlisted for a soldier, to avoid
being lodged in prison. As this happened in the year 1715, he was sent into Scotland
to oppose the rebels; but robbing a farmer in that country, he was punished by
receiving five hundred lashes, in consequence of the sentence of a court-martial. The
rebellion ended, Angier came to London, and obtained his discharge. Here be became
acquainted with William Duce, (see previous case) whose sister he married at an
alehouse in the verge of the Fleet. After this he enlisted a second time, and the
regiment being ordered to Vigo, he took his wife with him. The greater part of the
Spaniards having abandoned the place, Angier obtained a considerable sum by
plunder. On his return to England he, became acquainted with Butler's associates, and
was concerned with them in several of their lawless depredations, but refused to have
any share in acts of barbarity. Angier now kept a house of ill fame, which was
resorted to by the other thieves; and one night after they had been out on one of their
exploits, Meads told the following horrid tale: "We have been out; and the best fun of
all was, an engagement with a smock-faced shoe-maker, whom we met on the Kentish
road. We asked him how far he was going, and he said he was just married, and going
home to see his relations. After a little more discourse, we persuaded him to turn
rather out of the road to look for a bird's nest, which as soon as he had done, we
bound and gagged him, after which we robbed him, and were going away; but I being
in a merry humour, and, wanting to have a little diversion, turned about with my
pistol, and shot him through the head." Bad as Angier was in other respects, he was
shocked at this story, told his companions, there was no courage in cruelty, and from
that time refused to drink with any of them. After this he kept a house, of ill fame near
Charing-Cross letting lodgings to thieves, and receiving stolen goods. While in this
way of life he went to see an execution at Tyburn, and did not return till four o'clock
the next morning, when, during his absence, an affair happened, which was attended
with troublesome consequences. A Dutch woman meeting with a gentleman in the
streets, conducted him to Angier's house, where he drank so freely that he fell asleep,
and the woman robbing him of his watch and money, made her escape. The
gentleman awaking when Angier returned, charged him with the robbery, in
consequence of which he was committed to prison, but was afterwards discharged,
the. grand jury not finding the bill against him. Soon after his wife was indicted for
robbing a gentleman of his watch and a guinea; but was fortunate enough to be
acquitted for want of evidence. The following accident happened about the same time:
A woman named Turner had drunk so much at Angier's house that he conducted her
up to bed; but while he was in the room with her, his wife entered in a rage, and
demanding of her how she could presume to keep company with her husband,
attacked and beat the woman. William Duce being in the house, went up to interfere;
but the disturbance was by this time so great, that it was necessary to send for a
constable. The officer no sooner arrived, than Mrs. Turner charged Angier and his
wife with robbing her, on which they were taken into custody and committed; but
when they were brought to trial, they were acquitted, as there was no proof of any
robbery, to the satisfaction of the jury. Dyer, who was evidence against Duce and
Butler, lived at this time with Angier as a waiter; and the master and the man used
occasionally to commit footpad robberies together; for which they were several times
apprehended, and tried at the Old Bailey, but acquitted, as the prosecutors could not
swear to their persons. Angier's character now grew so notorious, that no person of
any reputation would be seen in the house; and the expenses attending his repeated
prosecutions were so great, that he was compelled to decline business. After this, he
kept a gin-shop in Short's gardens, Drury-lane; and this house was frequented by
company of the same kind as those he had formerly entertained, particularly, parson
Lindsey. Lindsey having prevailed on a gentleman to go to this house, made him
drunk, and then robbed him of several valuable articles; but procuring himself to be
admitted an evidence, charged Angier and his wife with the robbery. They had again
the good fortune to escape, the character of Lindsey being at this time so infamous,
that the court and jury paid no regard to any thing he said. Soon after, however, Mrs.
Angier was transported for picking a gentleman's pocket, and her husband was
convicted on two capital indictments; the one for robbing Mr. Lewin, the city marshal,
near Hornsey, of ten guineas; and some silver; and the other for robbing a waggoner
near Knightsbridge. On both these trials, Dyer, who was concerned in the robberies,
was admitted an evidence against Angier. After conviction, he was visited by numbers
of persons; whose pockets had been picked of valuable articles, in the hope of getting
some intelligence of the property they had lost; but he said, "he was never guilty of
such mean practices as picking of pockets, and all his associates were above it, except
one Hugh Kelly, who was transported for robbing a woman of a shroud, which she
was carrying home to cover her deceased husband."
RICHARD PARVIN, EDWARD ELLIOT, ROBERT
KINGSHELL, HENRY MARSHALL, EDWARD PINK,
JOHN PINK AND JAMES ANSELL
The "Waltham Blacks," who were executed at Tyburn, 4th of December,
1723, for Murder and Deer-Stealing
THESE men belonged to a gang of daring plunderers, who carried on their
depredations with such effrontery that it was found necessary to enact the law
hereafter recited, in order to bring them to condign punishment; and it was not long
after it was in force before it took due effect upon them. Having blackened their faces,
they went in the daytime to the parks of the nobility and gentry, whence they
repeatedly stole deer, and at length murdered the Bishop of Winchester's keeper on
Waltham Chase; and from the name of the place, and their blacking their faces, they
obtained the name of the "Waltham Blacks."
The following is the substance of the Act of Parliament on which they were
convicted: "After the first day of June, 1723, any person appearing in any forest,
chase, park, etc., or in any highroad, open heath, common or down, with offensive
weapons, and having his face blacked, or otherwise disguised, or unlawfully and
wilfully hunting, wounding, killing or stealing any red or fallow deer, or unlawfully
robbing any warren, etc., or stealing any fish out of any river or pond, or (whether
armed or disguised or not) breaking down the head or mound of any fishpond,
whereby the fish may be lost or destroyed; or unlawfully and maliciously killing,
maiming or wounding any cattle, or cutting down or otherwise destroying any trees
planted in any avenue, or growing in any garden, orchard or plantation, for ornament,
shelter or profit; or setting fire to any house, barn or outhouse, hovel, cock-mow or
stack of corn, straw, hay or wood; or maliciously shooting at any person in any
dwelling-house or other place; or knowingly sending any letter without any name, or
signed with a fictitious name, demanding money, venison or other valuable thing, or
forcibly rescuing any person being in custody for any of the offences before
mentioned, or procuring any person by gift, or promise of money, or other reward, to
join in any such unlawful act, or concealing or succouring such offenders when, by
Order of Council, etc., required to surrender, shall suffer death."
The offence of deer-stealing was formerly only a misdemeanour at common
law; but the act of parliament above-mentioned has been rendered perpetual by a
subsequent statute: it therefore behoves people to be cautious that they do not
endanger their lives, while they think they are committing what they may deem an
inferior offence. We will now give such particulars as we have been able to obtain
respecting the malefactors in question.
RICHARD PARVIN was heretofore the master of a public-house in
Portsmouth, which he had kept with reputation for a considerable time, till he was
imprudent enough to engage with the gang of ruffians who practised the robbing
noblemen's and gentlemen's parks through the country. The reader is already apprized
that it was the custom of these fellows to go disguised. Now a servant-maid of
Parvin's having left his house during his absence, had repaired to an alehouse in the
country; and Parvin calling there on his return from one of his dishonest expeditions,
the girl discovered him; in consequence of which he was committed to Winchester
Gaol, by the mayor of Portsmouth, till his removal to London for trial.
EDWARD ELLIOT was an apprentice to a tailor at Guildford, and was very
young when he engaged with the gang, whose orders he implicitly obeyed, till the
following circumstance occasioned his leaving them. Having met with two
countrymen who refused to enter into the society, they dug holes in the ground, and
placed the unhappy men in them, up to their chins, and had they not been relieved by
persons who accidentally saw them, they must have perished. Shocked by this deed,
Elliot left them, and for some time served a lady as a footman; but on the day the
keeper was murdered he casually met them in the fields, and, on their promise that no
harm should attend him, he unhappily consented to bear them company.
Having provided themselves with pistols, and blacked their faces with
gunpowder, they proceeded to their lawless depredations; and while the rest of the
gang were killing of deer, Elliot went in search of a fawn; but while he was looking
for it, the keeper and his assistants came up, and took him into custody. His associates
were near enough to see what happened; and immediately coming to his assistance, a
violent affray ensued, in which the keeper was shot by Henry Marshall, so that he died
on the spot, and Elliot made his escape; but he was soon afterwards taken into
custody, and lodged in the gaol of Guildford.
ROBERT KINGSHELL, who was a native of Farnham in Surrey, was placed
by his parents with a shoemaker; but being too idle to follow his profession, he was
guilty of many acts of irregularity, before he associated himself with the Waltham
Blacks, with whom he afterwards suffered. While he was in bed on the night
preceding the fatal murder, one of the gang awaked him, by knocking at his window;
on which he arose, and went with him to join the rest of the deer-stealers.
HENRY MARSHALL was a man distinguished for his strength and agility:
we have no account of the place of his birth, or the manner of his education; but it is
reasonable to think that the latter was of the inferior kind, since he appears to have
been chiefly distinguished by his skill in the vulgar science of bruising. He was once
the occasion of apprehending a highwayman, who had robbed a coach, by giving him
a single blow which broke his arm. He seems to have been one of the most daring of
the Waltham Blacks, and was the man who shot the chase-keeper, as above-
mentioned.
EDWARD PINK and JOHN PINK were brothers, who spent the former part
of their lives as carters, at Portsmouth, and had maintained the character of honest
men till they became weak enough to join the desperate gang of deer stealers.
It now remains to speak only of JAMES ANSEL, who likewise lived at
Portsmouth. We are not informed in what way he had originally supported himself;
but for some years before he joined the desperate gang above-mentioned he was a
highwayman; and had been concerned with the Waltham Blacks about two years
before the commission of the murder which cost them their lives.
By a vigilant exertion of the civil power, all the above-mentioned offenders
were taken into custody, and it being thought prudent to bring them to trial in London,
they were removed thither under a strong guard, and lodged in Newgate.
On the 13th of November, 1723, they were brought to their trial in the court of
King's Bench, and being convicted on the clearest evidence, were found guilty, and
sentenced to die; and it was immediately ordered that they should suffer on the fourth
of the next month. One circumstance was very remarkable on this occasion: — the
judge had no sooner pronounced the sentence, than Henry Marshall, the man who had
shot the keeper, was immediately deprived of the use of his tongue; nor did he recover
his speech till the day before his death.
After passing the solemn sentence the convicts behaved in a manner equally
devout and resigned, were regular in their devotions, and prepared themselves for
eternity with every mark of unfeigned contrition. They received the sacrament before
they left Newgate, acknowledged the justice of the sentence against them, and said
they had been guilty of many crimes besides that for which they were to suffer.
At the place of execution they were so dejected as to be unable to address the
populace; but they again confessed their sins, and recommended their souls to God,
beseeching his mercy, through the merits of Christ, with the utmost fervency of
devotion.
These malefactors were hanged at Tyburn, on the 4th of December, 1723.
A very short, though important lesson, may be learnt from the fate of these
unhappy men. Idleness must have been the great source of their lawless depredations,
which at length ended in murder. No man, however successful in the profession, can
expect to get as much profit by deer-stealing, as by following his lawful business. The
truth is, that, in almost every instance, it costs a man more pains to be a rogue than to
be honest. Exclusive of the duties of religion, young persons cannot learn a more
important maxim than that in the scripture; 'the hand of the diligent maketh rich.'
In this place it may not be improper to make a single remark on the game laws.
These are supposed to be, possibly not without reason, severe: it is contended that
those animals which are wild by nature are equally the property of every man. Perhaps
this is the truth: but persons in the lower ranks of life should remember, that when
laws are once enacted, THEY MUST BE OBEYED. Safety lies in acquiescence with,
not in opposition to, legal institutions.
JOHN STANLEY
An Insolent Puppy who presumed on his Swordsmanship. Executed at
Tyburn, 23rd of December, 1723, for murdering his Mistress
JOHN STANLEY was the son of an officer in the army, and born in the year
1690, at Duce Hall, in Essex, a seat that belonged to Mr Palmer, who was his uncle by
his mother's side. Young Stanley, being the favourite of his father, was taught the art
of fencing when he was no more than five years of age; and other officers likewise
practising the same art with him, he became a kind of master of the sword when he
was but a mere boy, for to stimulate his courage it was common for those who fenced
with him to give him wine or other strong liquors.
In consequence of this treatment the boy grew daring and insolent beyond
expression, and at length behaved with so uncommon a degree of audacity that his
father deemed him a singular character of bravery.
While he was very young, Mr Stanley was ordered to join his regiment in
Spain, and took his son with him, and in that country he was a spectator of several
engagements; but his principal delight was in trampling on the bodies of the deceased
after the battles were ended.
From Spain the elder Stanley was ordered to Ireland, whither he took his son,
and there procured for him an ensign's commission; but the young gentleman,
habituating himself to extravagant company, spent much more money than the
produce of his commission, which he soon sold, and then returned to England and
abandoned himself to the most dissolute course of life. At length, after a scene of riot
in London, he went with one of his associates to Flanders, and thence to Paris; and
Stanley boasted not a little of the favours he received among the French ladies, and of
the improvements he had made in the science of fencing.
On his return to England the opinion he conceived of his skill in the use of the
sword made him insufferably vain and presuming. He would frequently intrude
himself into company at a tavern, saying he had come to make himself welcome, and
would sit down at the table without further ceremony. The company would sometimes
bear with his insolence for the sake of peace, but when this was the case, it was a
chance if he did not pretend to have received some affront, and, drawing his sword,
walk off while the company was in confusion. It was not always, however, that
matters ended thus, for sometimes a gentleman of spirit would take the liberty of
kicking our hero out of the house.
As he was returning from a gaming-house which he frequented in Covent
Garden he met a Mr Bryan, of Newgate Street, and his sister, Mrs Maycock, the wife
of a mercer on Ludgate Hill. Stanley rudely ran against the man and embraced the
woman, on which a quarrel arose; but this subsiding, Stanley insisted on seeing the
parties home. This he did, and spent the evening with them; and from this
circumstance a fatal connection arose, as will appear in the sequel.
Stanley, having made an acquaintance with the family, soon afterwards met
Mrs Maycock at the house of a relation in Red Lion Street, Holborn. In a short time,
Mr Maycock removing into Southwark, the visits of our captain were admitted on a
footing of intimacy.
The husband dying soon after this connection, Stanley became more at liberty
to pay his addresses to the widow, and he was admitted to repeat his visits at his own
convenience. At this time a young fellow who had served his apprenticeship with the
late Mr Maycock, and who was possessed of a decent fortune to begin the world, paid
his addresses to the young widow; but she preferred a licentious life with Stanley to a
more virtuous connection. Soon after this she quitted her house in Southwark, and the
lovers spent their time at balls, plays and assemblies till her money was dissipated,
when he did not scruple to insinuate that she had been too liberal with her favours to
other persons. In the meantime she bore him three children, one of whom was living
at the time of the father's execution. Stanley continuing his dissolute course of life, his
parents became very uneasy, afraid of the fatal consequences that might ensue; and
his father, who saw too late the wrong bias he had given to his education, procured
him the commission of a lieutenant, to go to Cape Coast Castle, in the service of the
African Company.
The young fellow seemed so pleased with this appointment that his friends
conceived great hopes that he would reform. Preparations being made for his voyage,
and the Company having advanced a considerable sum, he went to Portsmouth, in
order to embark; but he had been only a few days in that town when he was followed
by Mrs Maycock, with her infant child. She reproached him with baseness, in first
debauching and then leaving her to starve; and employing all the arts she was mistress
of to divert him from his resolution, he gave her half the money which belonged to the
Company, and followed her to London with the rest.
Shocked with the news of this dishonourable action, the father took to his bed
and died of grief. Young Stanley appeared greatly grieved at this event, and to divert
his chagrin he went to Flanders, where he stayed a considerable time, when he
returned to England and lived in as abandoned a manner as before.
One night Mrs Maycock, having been to visit a gentleman, was returning
through Chancery Lane, in company with another woman and Mr Hammond, of the
Old Bailey, when Stanley, in company with another man, met the parties, and he and
his companion insisted on going with the women. Hammond hereupon said the ladies
belonged to him; but Mrs Maycock, now recognising Stanley, said: "What, Captain, is
it you?" He asked her where she was going: she said to Mr Hammond's, in the Old
Bailey. He replied that he was glad to meet her, and would go with her. As they
walked down Fleet Street, Stanley desired his companion to go back and wait for him
at an appointed place; and as the company was going forward, Stanley struck a man
who happened to be in his way, and kicked a woman on the same account.
Having arrived at Hammond's house, the company desired Stanley to go
home; but this he refused, and Mrs Maycock going into the kitchen he pushed in after
her, and, some words having passed between them, he stabbed her, so that she died in
about an hour and a half.
The offender, being taken into custody, was brought to his trial at the Old
Bailey, where some witnesses endeavoured to prove that he was a lunatic; but the jury
considering his extravagant conduct as the effect of his vices only, and the evidence
against him being positive, he was found guilty, and received sentence of death. He
was executed at Tyburn, on 23rd of December, 1723.
STEPHEN GARDENER
Executed at Tyburn, 3rd of February, 1724, for House-breaking, after being
warned that the Bellman would say his Verses over him
THIS malefactor was born in Moorfields, and after associating with blackguard boys
in the streets was driven home through sheer hunger. He went to sea on a corn vessel,
the master of which traded to France and Holland. Being an idle and useless hand, he
was treated so roughly by his shipmates that he grew heartily tired of a seafaring life;
and on his return from the first voyage he promised the utmost obedience if his friends
would permit him to remain at home.
This was readily complied with, in the hope of his reformation, and he was
now put to a waterman; but being impatient of restraint he soon quitted his service and
engaged with dissolute fellows in the neighbourhood of Moorfields, with whom he
played at cards, dice, etc., till he was stripped of what little money he had, and then
commenced as pickpocket.
His first attempt of this kind was at the Guildhall, during the drawing of the
lottery, when he took a wig out of a man's pocket; but though he was detected in the
offence, the humanity of the surrounding multitude permitted his escape. This
circumstance encouraged him to continue his practice, and about a month afterwards
he was detected in picking another pocket, and, notwithstanding his protestations of
innocence, underwent the discipline of the horsepond. Soon afterwards he became
acquainted with two notorious housebreakers named Garraway and Sly, who offered
to take him as a partner; but he rejected their proposals till one night when he had lost
all his money and most of his clothes at cards; then he went to his new acquaintances,
and agreed to be concerned in their illicit practices.
Gardener having now been for some time acquainted with a woman who kept
a public-house in Fleet Lane, and who was possessed of some money, proposed to
marry her, with the view of obtaining her property; and, the woman listening to his
offer, they were married by one of the Fleet parsons. The money Gardener obtained
with his spouse was soon spent in extravagance, and not long afterwards they were
apprehended on suspicion of felony and conducted to St Sepulchre's watch-house;
however, the charge against them not being validated, it was necessary to dismiss
them, but before they were set at liberty the constable said to Gardener: "Beware how
you come here again, or this bellman will certainly say his verses over you"; for the
bellman happened to be at that time in the watch-house. Gardener was greatly affected
when the constable told him that the bellman would say his verses over him; but the
impression it made on his mind soon wore off, and he quickly returned to his vicious
practices.
A short time after this adventure Gardener fell into company with one Rice
Jones, and they agreed to go together on the "passing lay," which is an artifice
frequently practised, and though the sharpers are often taken into custody, and their
tricks exposed in the newspapers, yet there are repeatedly found people weak enough
to submit to the imposition.
Our adventurers were very successful at different places, particularly at
Bristol; but in this last place Jones bilked Gardener in such a manner as to prove that
there is no truth in the observation of "honour among thieves"; for Jones, after having
defrauded a country gentleman of a gold watch and chain, a suit of laced clothes, and
about a hundred guineas, gave no share of the booty to Gardener. This induced the
latter to think of revenge, but he disguised his sentiments, and they went together to
Bath, where they remained some time and then proceeded on their journey; but on the
morning on which they set out, Gardener stole an iron pestle from the inn where they
lay, and concealed it in his boot, with the intention of murdering his companion when
they should come to an unfrequented place. On their journey Gardener generally kept
behind Jones, and twice took out the pestle with the intention of perpetrating the
murder; but, his resolution failing him, he at length dropped it in the road,
unperceived by his companion. A few days afterwards these companions in iniquity
parted; and on this occasion Jones said: "Hark ye, Gardener, whither are you going?"
"To London," said he. "Why, then," replied Jones, "you are going to be hanged."
Soon after his arrival in London he robbed a house in Addle Hill, but was not
apprehended for it, and a short time after he broke open the house of Mrs Roberts, and
carried off linen to the amount of twenty-five pounds. In this robbery he was assisted
by John Martin, and both the offenders, being soon afterwards taken into custody,
were brought to trial, capitally convicted, and received sentence of death; but Martin
was afterwards reprieved, on condition of transportation for fourteen years.
After sentence of death Gardener resigned himself to his fate and before he
quitted Newgate on the day of execution he dressed himself in a shroud, in which he
was executed, refusing to wear any other clothes, though the weather was intensely
cold.
JOSEPH BLAKE ALIAS BLUESKIN
Made an Unsuccessful Attempt to kill Jonathan Wild by cutting his Throat.
Executed in November, 1724, at Newgate
JOSEPH BLAKE, better known by his nickname of Blueskin, from his dark
countenance, always deserves to be remembered as one who studiously took the paths
of infamy in order to become famous.
By birth he was a native of the City of London. His parents, being persons in
tolerable circumstances, kept him six years at school, where he did not learn half so
much from his master as he did evil from his school-fellow, William Blewit, from
whose lessons he copied so well that all his education signified nothing. He absolutely
refused, when he came from school, to go to any employment, but, on the contrary,
set up for a robber when he was scarcely seventeen; and from that time to the day of
his death was unsuccessful in all his undertakings, hardly ever committing the most
trivial fact but he experienced for it either the humanity of the mob or of the keepers
of Bridewell, out of which, or some other prison, he could hardly keep his feet for a
month together.
He fell into the gang of Lock, Wilkinson, Carrick, Lincoln, and Daniel Carroll.
Being out one night with this gang, they robbed one Mr Clark of eight shillings and a
silver hilted sword, just as candles were going to be lighted. A woman, looking
accidentally out of a window, perceived it, and cried out "Thieves!" Wilkinson fired a
pistol at her, which (very luckily), upon her drawing in her head, grazed the window,
and did no other mischief. Blake was also in the company of the same gang when they
attacked Captain Langley at the corner of Hyde Park Road as he was going to the
camp; but the Captain behaved himself so well, that notwithstanding they shot several
times through and through his coat, yet they were not able to rob him. Not long after
this Wilkinson, being apprehended, impeached a large number of persons, and with
them Blake and Lock. Lock thereupon made a fuller discovery than the other before
Justice Blackerby, in which information there was contained no less than seventy
robberies, upon which he also was admitted a witness; and having named Wilkinson,
Lincoln, Carrick and Carroll, with himself, to have been the five persons who
murdered Peter Martain, the Chelsea pensioner, by the Park wall, Wilkinson
thereupon was apprehended, tried and convicted, notwithstanding the information he
had before given, which was thereby totally set aside.
Blake himself also became now an evidence against the rest of his
companions, and discovered about a dozen robberies which they had committed.
Amongst these there was a very remarkable one. Two gentlemen in hunting-caps were
together in a chariot on the Hampstead Road, from whom they took two gold watches,
rings, seals and other things to a considerable value; and Junks, alias Levey, laid his
pistol down by the gentlemen all the while he searched them, yet they wanted either
the courage or the presence of mind to seize it and prevent their losing things of so
great value. Not long after this Oakey, Junks and this Blake stopped a single man with
a link before him in Fig Lane, and he not surrendering so easily as they expected,
Junks and Oakey beat him over the head with their pistols, and then left him wounded
in a terrible condition, taking from him one guinea. A short time after this Junks,
Oakey and Flood were apprehended and executed for robbing Colonel Cope and Mr
Young of that very watch for which Carrick and Malony had been before executed,
Joseph Blake being the evidence against them.
After this hanging work of his companions he thought himself not only
entitled to liberty but reward. Therein, how ever, he was mightily mistaken, for, not
having surrendered willingly and quietly, but being taken after long resistance and
when he was much wounded, there did not seem to be the least foundation for this
confident demand. He remained still a prisoner in the Wood Street Compter,
obstinately refusing to be transported for seven years, till at last procuring two men to
be bound for his good behaviour, he was carried before a worthy alderman of the City
and there discharged. At which time somebody there present asking how long might
be given him before they should see him again at the Old Bailey, a gentleman made
answer, "In about three sessions," which time it seems he guessed very right; for the
third sessions from thence Blake was indeed brought to the bar.
No sooner was he at liberty than he was employed at robbing; and having
picked up Jack Sheppard for a companion, they went out together to search for prey in
the fields. Near the halfway house to Hampstead they met with one Pargitar, pretty
much in liquor, whom Blake immediately knocked down into the ditch, where he
would inevitably have perished had not Jack Sheppard kept his head above the mud
with great difficulty. For this fact, the next sessions after it happened, two brothers
(Brightwells) in the Guards were tried, and if a number of men had not sworn them to
have been on duty at the time the robbery was committed they would certainly have
been convicted, the evidence of the prosecutor being direct and full. The elder
Brightwell died in a week after he was released from his confinement, and so did not
live to see his innocence fully cleared by the confession of Blake.
He behaved with great impudence at his trial, and when he found nothing
would save him he took the advantage of Jonathan Wild's coming to speak with him
to cut the said Wild's throat a large gash from the ear beyond the windpipe; of which
wound Wild languished a long time. And happy had it been for him if Blake's wound
had proved fatal, for then Jonathan would have escaped death by a more
dishonourable wound in the throat than that of a penknife. But the number of his
crimes and the spleen of his enemies procured him a worse fate. Whatever Wild might
deserve of others, he seems to have merited better usage from this Blake; for while he
continued a prisoner in the compter, Jonathan was at the expense of curing a wound
he had received, allowed him three shillings and sixpence a week, and after his last
misfortune promised him a good coffin, actually furnished him with money to support
him in Newgate, and several good books if he had made use of them. But because he
freely declared to "Blueskin" there was no hope of getting him transported, the
murderous villain determined to take away his life, and was so far from showing any
signs of remorse when he was brought up again to Newgate that he declared that if he
had thought of it before, he would have provided such a knife as would have cut off
his head.
At the time he received sentence there was a woman also condemned, and they
being placed, as usual, in what is called the Bail Dock at the Old Bailey, Blake offered
such rudeness to the woman that she cried out and alarmed the whole bench. All the
time he lay under condemnation he appeared utterly thoughtless and insensible of his
approaching fate. Though from the cutting of Wild's throat and some other barbarities
of the same nature he acquired amongst the mob the character of a brave fellow, yet
he was in himself but a mean spirited, timorous man, and never exerted himself but
through either fury or despair. He wept much at the chapel before he was to die; and
though he drank deeply to drive away fear, yet at the place of execution he wept
again, trembled, and showed all the signs of a timorous confusion as well he might,
who had, lived wickedly, and trifled with his repentance to the grave. There was
nothing in his person extra ordinary: a dapper, well set up fellow, of great strength and
great cruelty; equally detested by the sober part of the world for the audacious
wickedness of his behaviour, and despised by his companions for the villainies he
committed even against them. He was executed in the twenty-eighth year of his age,
on the 11th of November, 1724
JACK SHEPPARD
A Daring Housebreaker, who made Ingenious Escapes from Prison and
even tried to foil his Executioner at Tyburn on 16th of November, 1724
Portrait of Jack Sheppard
ALTHOUGH only in the twenty-third year of his age when he was executed at
Tyburn, on the 16th of November, 1724, Jack Sheppard had become so notorious as a
housebreaker and prison-breaker that his exploits were the talk of all ranks of society.
A great warrior could not have received greater attention than this famous criminal.
Books and pamphlets were written about him; a pantomime at Drury Lane, called
Harlequin Sheppard, was based on the story of his adventures, and so was a three-act
farce, called The Prison-Breaker. Dozens of songs and glees referred to his prowess,
and clergymen preached sermons about him. Sir James Thornhill, the celebrated
painter who decorated the dome of St Paul's Cathedral, painted his portrait, from
which engravings in mezzotinto were made. On this subject a poet, whose name is not
given, wrote the following lines: —
"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,
Caesar is to Aurelius due;
Cromwell in Lely's works doth shine,
And Sheppard, Thornhill, lives in thine."
John Sheppard was born in Spitalfields in the year 1702. His father, who was a
carpenter, bore the character of an honest man; yet he had another son, named
Thomas, who, as well as Jack, turned out a thief. The father dying while the boys
were very young, they were left to the care of the mother, who placed Jack at a school
in Bishopsgate Street, where he remained two years, and was then put apprentice to a
carpenter. He behaved with decency in this place for about four years, when,
frequenting the Black Lion ale-house, in Drury Lane, he became acquainted with
some abandoned women, among whom the principal was Elizabeth Lyon; otherwise
called "Edgworth Bess," from the town of Edgworth, where she was born.
While he continued to work as a carpenter, he often committed robberies in
the houses where he was employed, stealing tankards, spoons and other articles,
which he carried to Edgworth Bess; but not being suspected of having committed
these robberies, he at length resolved to commence housebreaking. Exclusive of
Edgworth Bess, he was acquainted with a woman named Maggot, who persuaded him
to rob the house of Mr Bains, a piece-broker in White Horse Yard; and Jack, having
brought away a piece of fustian from thence (which he deposited in his trunk), went
afterwards at midnight, and taking the bars out of the cellar window entered, and stole
goods and money to the amount of twenty-two pounds, which he carried to Maggot.
As Sheppard did not go home that night, nor the following day, his master suspected
that he had made bad connections, 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.
Sheppard's master sending intelligence to Mr Bains of what had happened, the latter
looked over his goods and, missing such a piece of fustian as had been described to
him, suspected that Sheppard must have been the robber, and determined to have him
taken into custody; but Jack, hearing of the affair, went to him and threatened a
prosecution for scandal, alleging that he had received the piece of fustian from his
mother, who bought it for him in Spitalfields. The mother, with a view to screen her
son, declared that what he had asserted was true, though she could not point out the
place where she had made the purchase. Though this story was not credited, Mr Bains
did not take any further steps in the affair.
Sheppard's master seemed willing to think well of 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 and became
connected with a set of villains of Jonathan Wild's gang. 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 Mayfair 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 Edgworth Bess was apprehended and lodged
in the roundhouse of the parish of St Giles's, where Sheppard went to visit her, and 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 with the
women of abandoned character.
In the month of August, 1723, Thomas Sheppard, the brother of Jack, was
indicted at the Old Bailey for two petty offences, and being convicted was burned in
the hand. Soon after his discharge 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 the brothers, in conjunction with Edgworth Bess, broke
open the shop of Mrs Cook, a linen-draper in Clare Market, and carried off goods to
the value of fifty-five pounds; and in less than a fortnight afterwards 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 Edgworth 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, who, after a short examination, sent him 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 Roundhouse, where he was visited
by Edgworth 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 New Prison; and
as they passed for husband and wife they were permitted to lodge together in a room
known by the name of Newgate Ward.
Sheppard being visited by several of his acquaintances, some of them
furnished him with implements to make his escape, and early in the morning, a few
days after his commitment, he filed off his fetters and, having made a hole in the wall,
he took an iron bar and a wooden one out of the window; but as the height from which
he was to descend was twenty-five feet he tied a blanket and sheet together, and,
making one of them fast to a bar in the window, Edgworth Bess first descended, and
Jack followed her. Having reached the yard, they had still a wall of twenty- two feet
high to scale; but climbing up by the locks and bolts of the great gate, they got quite
out of the prison, and effected a perfect escape.
Sheppard's fame was greatly celebrated among the lower order of people by
this exploit; and the thieves of St Giles's courted his company. Among the rest, one
Charles Grace, a cooper, begged that he would take him as an associate in his
robberies, alleging as a reason for this request that the girl he kept was so extravagant
that he could not support her on the profits of his own thefts. Sheppard did not hesitate
to make this new connection; but at the same time said that he did not admit of the
partnership with a view to any advantage to himself, but that Grace might reap the
profits of their depredations.
Sheppard and Grace making acquaintance with Anthony Lamb, an apprentice
to a mathematical instrument-maker, near St Clement's Church, it was agreed to rob a
gentleman who lodged with Lamb's master, and at two o'clock in the morning Lamb
let in the other villains, who stole money and effects to a large amount. They put the
door open, and Lamb went to bed to prevent suspicion; but notwithstanding this his
master did suspect him, and had him taken into custody, when he confessed the whole
affair before a magistrate, and being committed to Newgate he was tried, convicted,
and received sentence to be transported. On the same day Thomas Sheppard (the
brother of Jack) was indicted for breaking open the dwelling-house of Mary Cook and
stealing her goods; and, being convicted, was sentenced to transportation.
Jack Sheppard not being in custody, he and "Blueskin," another notorious
thief, who was executed a few days before Sheppard met his fate, committed a
number of daring robberies, and sometimes disposed of the stolen goods to William
Field. Jack used to say that Field wanted courage to commit a robbery, though he was
as great a villain as ever existed.
Sheppard and "Blueskin" hired a stable near the Horse Ferry, Westminster, in
which they deposited their stolen goods till they could dispose of them to the best
advantage, and in this place they put the woollen cloth which was stolen from Mr
Kneebone; for Sheppard was concerned in this robbery, and at the sessions held at the
Old Bailey, in August, 1724, he was indicted for several offences, and among the rest
for breaking and entering the house of William Kneebone and stealing one hundred
and eight yards of woollen cloth and other articles; and, being capitally convicted,
received sentence of death.
We must now go back to observe that Sheppard and "Blueskin" had applied to
Field to look at these goods and procure a customer for them, and he promised to do
so; nor was he worse than his word, for in the night he broke open their warehouses
and stole the ill-gotten property, and then gave information against them to Jonathan
Wild, in consequence of which they were apprehended. On Monday, the 30th of
August, 1724, a warrant was sent to Newgate for the execution of Sheppard, with
other convicts under sentence of death.
It is proper to observe that in the old jail of Newgate there was within the
lodge a hatch, with large iron spikes, which hatch opened into a dark passage, whence
there were a few steps into the condemned hold. The prisoners being permitted to
come down to the hatch to speak with their friends, Sheppard, having been supplied
with instruments, took an opportunity of cutting one of the spikes in such a manner
that it might be easily broken off. On the evening of the above-mentioned 30th of
August, two women of Sheppard's acquaintance going to visit him, he broke off the
spike and, thrusting his head and shoulders through the space, the women pulled him
down, and he effected his escape, notwithstanding some of the keepers were at that
time drinking at the other end of the lodge. On the day after his escape he went to a
public-house in Spitalfields, whence he sent for an old acquaintance, one Page, a
butcher in Clare Market, and advised with him how to render his escape effectual for
his future preservation. After deliberating on the matter they agreed to go to Warnden,
in Northamptonshire, where Page had some relations; and they had no sooner resolved
than they made the journey: but Page's relations treating him with indifference, they
returned to London, after being absent only about a week.
On the night after their return, as they were walking up Fleet Street together,
they saw a watchmaker's shop open, and only a boy attending. Having passed the
shop, they turned back, and Sheppard, driving his hand through the window, stole
three watches, with which they made their escape.
Some of Sheppard's old acquaintances informing him that strict search was
being made for him, he and Page retired to Finchley, in the hope of lying there
concealed till the diligence of the jail-keepers should relax; but the keepers of
Newgate, having intelligence of their retreat, took Sheppard into custody and
conveyed him to his old lodgings. Such steps were now taken as were 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. Nonetheless, he contrived to escape from this durance. We here give his
own account of the matter: —
"As my last escape from Newgate, out of the strong room called the Castle,
had made a greater noise in the world than any other action of my life, I shall relate
every minute circumstance thereof, as far as I am able to remember.
"After I had been made a public spectacle of for many days together, with my
legs chained together, loaded with heavy irons and stapled down to the floor, I
thought it was not altogether impracticable to escape if I could but be furnished with
proper implements; but, as every person that came near me was carefully watched,
there was no possibility of any such assistance, till one day in the absence of my
jailers, looking about the floor, I spied a small nail within reach, and with that, after a
little practice, I found the great horse padlock that went from the chain to the staple in
the floor might be unlocked, which I did afterward at pleasure; and was frequently
about the room and several times slept on the barracks when the keepers imagined I
had not been out of my chair. But being unable to pass up the chimney and void of
tools, I remained where I was, till being detected in these practices by the keepers,
who surprised me one day before I could fix myself to the staple in the manner as they
had left me, I showed Mr Pitt, Mr Rouse and Mr Parry my art and before their faces
unlocked the padlock with the nail; and, though people have made such an outcry
about it, there is scarce a smith in London but what may easily do the same thing.
However, this called for a further security of me. Till now, I had remained without
handcuffs, but a jolly pair was provided for me.
"Mr Kneebone was present when they were put on. I with tears begged his
intercession to the keepers to preserve me from those dreadful manacles, telling him
my heart was broken and that I should be much more miserable than before. Mr
Kneebone could not refrain from shedding tears himself and did use his good offices
with the keepers to keep me from them, but all to no purpose. On they went, though at
the time I despised them and well knew that with my teeth only I could take them off
at pleasure. But this was to lull them into a firm belief that they had effectually
frustrated all attempts to escape for the future. The turnkey and Mr Kneebone had not
been gone down stairs an hour when I made an experiment and got off my handcuffs,
and before they visited me again I put them on and industriously rubbed and fretted
the skin on my wrists, making them very bloody, as thinking (if such a thing was
possible to be done) to move the turnkeys to compassion, but rather to confirm them
in their opinion; but, though this had no effect upon them, it wrought much upon the
spectators and drew from them not only much pity but quantities of silver and copper.
I wanted a still more useful metal, a crow, a chisel, a file and a saw or two, these
weapons being more useful to me than all the mines of Mexico; but there was no
expecting any such utensils in my circumstances.
"Wednesday the 14th of October the sessions beginning, I found there was not
a moment to be lost; and the affair of Jonathan Wild's throat, together with the
business at the Old Bailey, having sufficiently engaged the attention of the keepers, I
thought then was the time to push. Thursday the 15th at about two in the afternoon,
Austin, my old attendant, came to bring my necessaries and brought up four persons,
namely, the keeper of Clerkenwell Bridewell, the clerk of Westminster gatehouse and
two others. Austin, as it was his usual custom, examined the irons and hand cuffs and
found all safe and firm, and then left me; and he may remember that I asked him to
come again to me the same evening, but I neither expected or desired his company;
and happy was it for the poor man that he did not interfere while I had the large iron
bar in my hand, though I once had a design to have barricaded him or any others from
coming into the room while I was at work, but then considering that such a project
would be useless, I let fall that resolution.
"As near as I can remember, just before three in the afternoon I went to work,
taking off first my handcuffs; next with main strength I twisted a small iron link of the
chain between my legs asunder, and the broken pieces proved extreme useful to me in
my design. The fetlocks I drew up to the calves of my legs, taking off before that my
stockings, and with my garters made them firm to my body to prevent them shackling.
I then proceeded to make a hole in the chimney of the Castle about three foot wide
and six foot high from the floor, and with the help of the broken links aforesaid
wrenched an iron bar out of the chimney, of about two feet and an half in length and
an inch square: a most notable implement. I immediately entered the Red Room
directly over the Castle, where some of the Preston rebels had been kept a long time
agone; and as the keepers say, the door had not been unlocked for seven years; but I
intended not to be seven years in opening it. I went to work upon the nut of the lock
and with little difficulty got it off and made the door fly before me. In this room I
found a large nail which proved of great use in my farther progress. The door of the
entry between the Red Room and the chapel proved an hard task, it being a laborious
piece of work; for here I was forced to break away the wall and dislodge the bolt
which was fastened on the other side. This occasioned much noise, and I was very
fearful of being heard by the Master Side debtors. Being got to the chapel, I climbed
over the iron spikes and with ease broke one of them off for my further purposes, and
opened the door on the inside. The door going out of the chapel to the leads, I stripped
the nut from off the lock, as I had done before from that of the Red Room, and then
got into the entry between the chapel and the leads and came to another strong door,
which being fastened by a very strong lock, there I had like to have stopped, and it
being full dark, my spirits began to fail me, as greatly doubting of succeeding; but
cheering up, I wrought on with great diligence, and in less than half an hour, with the
main help of the nail from the Red Room and the spike from the chapel, wrenched the
box off and so made the door my humble servant.
"A little further in my passage, another stout door stood in my way, and this
was guarded with more bolts, bars and locks than any I had hitherto met with. I had by
this time great encouragement, as hoping soon to be rewarded for all this toil and
labour. The clock at St Sepulchre's was now going the eighth hour, and this proved a
very useful hint to me soon after. I went first upon the box and the nut, but found it
labour in vain; and then proceeded to attack the fillet of the door. This succeeded
beyond expectation, for the box of the lock came off with it from the main post. I
found my work was near finished and that my fate soon would be determined.
"I was got to a door opening in the lower leads, which being only bolted on the
inside, I opened it with ease and then clambered from the top of it to the higher leads
and went over the wall. I saw the streets were lighted, the shops being still open, and
therefore began to consider what was necessary to be further done, as knowing that
the smallest accident would still spoil the whole workmanship, and was doubtful on
which of the houses I should alight. I found I must go back for the blanket which had
been my covering anights in the Castle, which I accordingly did, and endeavoured to
fasten my stockings and that together, to lessen my descent, but wanted necessaries so
to do and was therefore forced to make use of the blanket alone. I fixed the same with
the chapel spike into the wall of Newgate and dropped from it on the turner's leads, a
house adjoining to the prison.
"'Twas then about nine of the clock and the shops not yet shut in. It fortunately
happened that the garret door on the leads was open. I stole softly down about two
pair of stairs and then heard company talking in a room, the door open. My irons gave
a small clink, which made a woman cry, 'Lord, what noise is that?' A man replied,
'Perhaps the dog or cat.' And so it went off. I returned up to the garret and laid myself
down, being terribly fatigued, and continued there for about two hours and then crept
down once more to the room where the company were and heard a gentleman taking
his leave, being very importunate to be gone, saying he had disappointed friends by
not going home sooner. In about three quarters more, the gentleman took leave and
went, being lighted down stairs by the maid, who, when she returned, shut the
chamber door. I resolved at all hazards to follow, and slipped downstairs, but made a
stumble against a chamber door. I was instantly in the entry and out at the street door,
which I was so unmannerly as not to shut after me. I was once more, contrary to my
own expectation and that of all mankind, a free man.
"I passed directly by St Sepulchre's watch-house, bidding them good morrow,
it being after twelve, and down Snow Hill, up Holborn, leaving St Andrew's watch on
my left, and then again passed the watch-house at Holborn Bar and made down Gray's
Inn Lane into the Fields, and at two in the morning came to Tottenham Court and
there got into an old house in the fields where cows had sometime been kept, and laid
me down to rest and slept well for three hours. My legs were swelled and bruised
intolerably, which gave me great uneasiness; and, having my fetters still on, I dreaded
the approach of the day, fearing then I should be discovered. I began to examine my
pockets and found myself master of between forty and fifty shillings. I had no friend
in the world that I could send to or trust with my condition. About seven on Friday
morning, it began raining and continued so the whole day, insomuch that not one
creature was to be seen in the fields. I would freely have parted with my right hand for
a hammer, a chisel and a punch. I kept snug in my retreat till the evening, when after
dark I ventured into Tottenham and got to a little blind chandler's shop and there
furnished myself with cheese and bread, small beer and other necessaries, hiding my
irons with a great coat as much as possible. I asked the woman for a hammer, but
there was none to be had, so I went back very quietly to my dormitory and rested
pretty well that night and continued there all Saturday. At night, I went again to the
chandler's shop and got provisions and slept till about six the next day, which being
Sunday, I began with a stone to batter the basils of the fetters in order to beat them
into a large oval and then to slip my heels through.
"In the afternoon, the master of the shed or house came in and, seeing my
irons, asked me, 'For God's sake, who are you?' I told him 'an unfortunate young man
who had been sent to Bridewell about a bastard child, as not being able to give
security to the parish, and had made my escape'. The man replied, if that was the case
it was a small fault indeed, for he had been guilty of the same things himself formerly;
and withal said, however, he did not like my looks, and cared not how soon I was
gone.
"After he was gone, observing a poor-looking man like a joiner, I made up to
him and repeated the same story, assuring him that twenty shillings should be at his
service if he could furnish me with a smith's hammer and a punch. The man proved a
shoemaker by trade, but willing to obtain the reward immediately borrowed the tools
of a blacksmith his neighbour and likewise gave me great assistance, and before five
that evening I had entirely got rid of those troublesome companions my fetters, which
I gave to the fellow, besides his twenty shillings, if he thought fit to make use of them.
A shoemaker freeing Sheppard from his irons
"That night, I came to a cellar at Charing Cross and refreshed very
comfortably with roast veal, etc., where about a dozen people were all discoursing
about Sheppard, and nothing else was talked on whilst I stayed amongst them. I had
tied an handkerchief about my head, tore my woollen cap in many places, as likewise
my coat and stockings, and looked exactly like what I designed to represent, a beggar
fellow.
"The next day, I took shelter at an alehouse of little or no trade in Rupert
Street, near Piccadilly. The woman and I discoursed much about Sheppard. I assured
her it was impossible for him to escape out of the kingdom, and that the keepers
would have him again in a few days. The woman wished that a curse might fall on
those who should betray him. I continued there till the evening, when I stepped
towards the Haymarket and mixed with a crowd about two ballad-singers, the subject
being about Sheppard. And I remember the company was very merry about the
matter.
"On Tuesday, I hired a garret for my lodging at a poor house in Newport
Market, and sent for a sober young woman who for a long time had been the real
mistress of my affections, who came to me and rendered all the assistance she was
capable of afford ing. I made her the messenger to my mother, who lodged in Clare
Street. She likewise visited me in a day or two after, begging on her bended knees of
me to make the best of my way out of the kingdom, which I faithfully promised; but I
cannot say it was in my intentions heartily to do so.
"I was oftentimes in Spitalfields, Drury Lane, Lewkenor's Lane, Parker's Lane,
St Thomas Street, etc., those having been the chief scenes of my rambles and
pleasures.
"I had once formed a design to have opened a shop or two in Monmouth Street
for some necessaries, but let that drop and came to a resolution of breaking the house
of the two Mr Rawlins brothers, pawnbrokers in Drury Lane, which accordingly I put
in execution and succeeded, they both hearing me rifling their goods as they lay in
bed together in the next room. And though there were none others to assist me, I
pretended there was, by loudly giving out directions for shooting the first person
through the head that presumed to stir: which effectually quieted them while I carried
off my booty — with part whereof on the fatal Saturday following, being the 31st of
October, I made an extraordinary appearance and from a carpenter and butcher was
now transformed into a perfect gentleman; and in company with my sweetheart
aforesaid and another young woman her acquaintance went into the City and were
very merry together at a public house not far from the place of my old confinement.
At four that same afternoon, we all passed under Newgate in a hackney coach, the
windows drawn up, and in the evening I sent for my mother to the Shears alehouse in
Maypole Alley near Claremarket, and with her drank three quarterns of brandy; and
after leaving her I drank in one place or other about the neighbourhood all evening,
till the evil hour of twelve, having been seen and known by many of my acquaintance,
all of them cautioning me and wondering at my presumption to appear in that manner.
At length, my senses were quite overcome with the quantities and variety of liquors I
had all the day been drinking of, which paved the way for my fate to meet me. When
apprehended, I do protest, I was altogether incapable of resisting and scarce knew
what they were doing to me, and had but two second-hand pistols scarce worth
carrying about me."
His fame was now so much increased by his exploits that he was visited by
great numbers of people, and some of them of the highest quality. He endeavoured to
divert them by a recital of the particulars of many robberies in which he had been
concerned; and when any nobleman came to see him he never failed to beg that they
would intercede with the King for a pardon, to which he thought that his singular
dexterity gave him some pretensions. Having been already convicted, he was carried
to the bar of the Court of King's Bench on the 10th of November, and the record of
the conviction being read, and an affidavit being made that he was the same John
Sheppard mentioned in the record, sentence of death was passed upon him by Mr
Justice Powis, and a rule of court was made for his execution on the Monday
following.
He regularly attended the prayers in the chapel; but, though he behaved with
decency there, he affected mirth before he went thither, and endeavoured to prevent
any degree of seriousness among the other prisoners on their return.
Even when the day of execution arrived Sheppard 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 the view, when the melancholy procession came opposite
Little Turnstile, of cutting the cord that bound his arms, and throwing himself out of
the cart among the crowd, to run through the narrow passage where the sheriff's
officers could not follow on horseback; and he had no doubt but that he should make
his escape, with the assistance of the mob.
It is 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.
Sheppard had yet a further view to his preservation, even after execution; for
he desired his acquaintances to put him into a warm bed as soon as he should be cut
down, and 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
having committed two robberies for which he had been tried and acquitted. He
suffered in the twenty-third year of his age. He died with difficulty, and was much
pitied by the surrounding multitude. When he was cut down his body was delivered to
his friends, who carried him to a public-house in Long Acre, whence he was removed
in the evening and buried in the churchyard of St Martin's-in-the-Fields.
The Sunday following the parishioners heard the following sermon on the
occasion of Sheppard's escape: —
"Now, my beloved, what a melancholy consideration it is, that men should
shew so much regard for the preservation of a poor perishing body, that can remain at
most but for a few years; and at the same time be so unaccountably negligent of a
precious soul, which must continue to the age of eternity! Oh, what care! what pains!
what diligence! and what contrivances are made use of for, and laid out upon, these
frail and tottering tabernacles of clay: when, alas! the nobler part of us is allowed so
very small a share of our concern that we scarce will give ourselves the trouble of
bestowing a thought upon it.
"We have a remarkable instance of this in a notorious malefactor, well known
by the name of Jack Sheppard! What amazing difficulties has he overcome, what
astonishing things has he performed, for the sake of a stinking, miserable carcass,
hardly worth hanging? how dexterously did he pick the padlock of his chain with a
crooked nail? How manfully did he burst his fetters asunder, climb up the chimney,
wrench out an iron bar, break his way through a stone wall and make the strong doors
of a dark entry fly before him, till he got upon the leads of the prison? and then, fixing
a blanket to the wall with a spike he stole out of the chapel, how intrepidly did he
descend to the top of the turner's house, and how cautiously pass down the stairs and
make his escape at the street door?
"Oh, that ye were all like Jack Sheppard! — Mistake me not, my brethren, I
don't mean in a carnal but in a spiritual sense, for I mean to spiritualize these things.
— What a shame it would be if we should not think it worth our while to take as much
pains and employ as many deep thoughts to save our souls, as he has done to preserve
his body.
"Let me exhort ye, then, to open the locks of your hearts with the nail of
repentance; burst asunder the fetters of your beloved lusts; mount the chimney of
hope, take from hence the bar of good resolution, break through the stone wall of
despair and all the strong holds in the dark entry of the valley of the shadow of death;
raise yourself to the leads of divine meditation; fix the blanket of faith with the spike
of the church; let yourselves down to the turner's house of resignation and descend
the stairs of humility. So shall you come to the door of deliverance from the prison of
iniquity and escape the clutches of that old executioner and devil, who goeth about
like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour."
LEWIS HOUSSART
Executed at Swan-Alley, Shoreditch, Dec. 7, 1724, for Murder.
THIS malefactor was born at Sedan, in France; but his parents being
Protestants, quitted that kingdom, in consequence of an edict of Lewis the Fourteenth,
and settled in Dutch Brabant.
Young Houssart's father placed him with a barber-surgeon at Amsterdam, with
whom he lived a consderable time, and then served as a surgeon on board a Dutch
ship, which he quitted through want of health, and came to England. He had been a
considerable time in this country when he became acquainted with Ann Rondeau,
whom he married at the French church in Spitalfields. Having lived about three years
with his wife at Hoxton, he left her with disgust, and going into the city, passed for a.
single man, working as a barber and hair-dresser; and getting acquainted with a Mrs.
Herb, of Prince's-street, Lothbury, he married her at St. Antholin's church.
No sooner was the ceremony performed, than the company went to drink some
wine at an adjacent tavern, when the parish clerk observed that Houssart changed
countenance, and some of the company asked him if he repented his bargain; to which
he answered in the negative.
It appears as if, even at this time, he had come to a resolution. of murdering his
first wife; for he had not been long married before his second charging him with a
former matrimonial connexion, he desired her to be easy, for she would be convinced,
in a short time, that he had no other wife but herself.
During this interval his first wife lived with her mother in Swan-alley,
Shoreditch, and Mrs. Houssart being in an ill state of health, her husband called upon
her about a fortnight before the perpetration of the murder, and told her he would
bring her something to relieve her: and the next day he gave her a medicine that had
the appearance of conserve of roses, which threw her into such severe convulsion fits,
that her life was despaired of for some hours; but at length she recovered.
This scheme failing, Houssart determined to murder her, to effect which, and
conceal the crime, he took the following method:
Having directed his second wife to meet him at the Turk's Head in
Bishopsgate-street, she went thither and waited for him. In the mean time he dressed
himself in a white great coat, and walked out with a cane in his hand, and a sword by
his side. Going to the end of Swan-alley, Shoreditch, he gave a boy a penny to go into
the lodgings of his first wife, and her mother, Mrs. Rondeau, and tell the old woman
that a gentleman wanted to speak with her at the Black Dog in Bishopsgate-street.
Mrs. Rondeau saying she would wait on the gentleman, Houssart hid himself
in the alley, till, the boy told him she was gone out, and then went to his wife's room
and cut her throat with a razor, and thus murdered, she was found by her mother on
her return from the Black Dog, after enquiring in vain for the gentleman who was said
to be waiting for her.
In the interim Houssart went to his other wife at the Turk's Head, where he
appeared much dejected, and had some sudden starts of passion. The landlady of the
house, who was at supper with his wife, expressing some surprise at his behaviour, he
became more calm, and said he was only uneasy lest her husband should return, and
find him so meanly dressed; and soon after this Houssart and his wife went home.
Mrs. Rondeau having found her daughter murdered, as above-mentioned, went
to her son, to whom she communicated the affair: and he having heard that Houssart
lodged in Lothbury, took a constable, went thither, and said he was come to
apprehend him on suspicion of having murdered his wife; on which he laughed
loudly, and asked if any thing in his looks indicated that he could he guilty of such a
crime.
Being committed to Newgate, he was tried at the next sessions at the Old
Bailey, but acquitted for want of the evidence of the boy, who was not found till a
considerable time afterwards: but the court ordered the prisoner to remain in Newgate
to take his trial for bigamy.
In consequence hereof he was indicted at the next sessions, when full proof
was brought of both his marriages; but an objection was made by his counsel, on a
point of law, "Whether he could be guilty of bigamy, as the first marriage was
performed by a French minister, and he was only once married according to the form
of the church of England." On this the jury brought in a special verdict, subject to the
determination of the twelve judges.
While Houssart lay in Newgate waiting this solemn award, the boy whom he
had employed to go into the house of Mrs. Rondeau, and who had hitherto kept secret
the whole transaction, being in conversation with his mother, asked her what would
become of the boy if he should be apprehended. The mother told him he would be
only sworn to tell the truth. "Why (said he) I thought they would hang him:" but the
mother satisfying him that there was no danger of any such consequence, and talking
farther with him on the subject, he confessed that he was the boy who went with the
message.
Hereupon he was taken to Solomon Rondeau, brother of the deceased, who
went with him to a justice of peace, and the latter ordered a constable to attend him to
New-gate, where he fixed on Houssart as the person who had employed him in the
manner above-mentioned.
In consequence hereof, Solomon Rondeau lodged an appeal against the
prisoner; but it appearing that there was some bad Latin in it, no proceedings could be
had thereon; and therefore another appeal was lodged the next sessions, when the
prisoner urging that he was not prepared for his trial, he was yet indulged till a
subsequent sessions.
The appeal was brought in the name of Solomon Rondeau, as heir to the
deceased; and the names John Doe and Richard Roe were entered in the common
form, as pledges to prosecute.
When, the trial came on, the counsel for the prisoner stated the following
pleas, in bar to, and abatement of, the proceedings: —
I. That besides the appeal, to which he now pleaded, there was another yet
depending, and undetermined.
II. A misnomer, because his name was not Lewis but Louis.
III. That the addition of labourer was wrong, for he was not a labourer, but, a
barber-surgeon.
IV. That there were no such persons as John Doe and Richard Roe, who were
mentioned as pledges in the appeal.
V. That Henry Rondeau was the brother and heir to the deceased; that
Solomon Rondeau was not her brother and heir, and therefore was not the proper
appellant; and
VI. That the defendant was not guilty of the facts charged in the appeal.
The counsel for the appellant replied to these several pleas in substance as
follows:—
To the first that the former appeal was already quashed, and therefore could
not be depending and undetermined.
To the second, that it appeared that the prisoner had owned to the name of
Lewis, by pleading to it on two indictments, the one for bigamy and the other for
murder; and his hand-writing was produced, in which he had spelt his name Lewis;
and it was likewise proved that he had usually answered to that name.
To the third, it was urged that, on the two former indictments, he had pleaded
to the condition of labourer; and a person swore that the prisoner worked as a
journeyman or servant, and did not carry on his business as a master.
To the fourth it was urged, that there were two such persons in Middlesex as
John Doe and Richard Roe, the one a weaver, and the other a soldier; and this fact was
sworn to.
In answer to the fifth, Ann Rondeau, the mother of the deceased, swore that
she had no children except the murdered party, and Solomon Rondeau, the appellant:
that Solomon was brother and heir to the deceased, which Henry Rondeau was not,
being only the son of her husband by a former wife.
With regard to the last article, respecting his being not guilty, that was left to
be determined by the opinion. of the jury.
Hereupon the trial was brought on, and the same witnesses being examined as
on the former trial, to which that of the boy was added, the jury determined that the
prisoner was guilty, in consequence of which he received sentence of death.
His behaviour after conviction was very improper for one in his melancholy
situation; and, as the day of execution drew nearer, he became still more thoughtless,
and more hardened, and frequently declared that he would cut his throat, as the jury
had found him guilty of cutting that of his wife.
His behaviour at the place of execution was equally hardened. He refused to
pray with the ordinary of Newgate and another clergyman, who kindly attended to
assist him in his devotions.
THOMAS PACKER and JOSEPH PICKER
Executed at Tyburn February, 1, 1725, For Highway Robbery:
THOMAS PACKER was a native of London, his father being a shoemaker in
Butcher-hall-lane, Newgate-street. He was bound apprentice to the master of the Ship
Tavern at Greenwich; But not being content in his situation, he was turned over to a
vinter, who kept the Rummer Tavern, near Red-lion-square; and having served the
rest of his time, he lived as a waiter in different places.
He had not been long out of his time before he married; but the expenses of his
new connection, added to those arising from the extravagance of his disposition, soon
reduced him to circumstances of distress.
Joseph Picken was likewise a native of London, being the son of a tailor in
Clerkenwell; but his father dying while he was an infant, be was educated by his
mother, who placed him with a vinter near Billingsgate, with whom he served an
apprenticeship, after which he married, and kept the tap of the Mermaid Inn at
Windsor: but his wife being a bad manager, and his business much neglected, he was
soon reduced to the utmost extremity of poverty.
Being obliged even to sell his bed, and sleep on the floor, his wife advised him
to go on the highway, to supply their necessities. Fatally for him, he listened to her
advice, and repaired to London, where, on the following day, he fell into company
with Packer, who had been an old acquaintance:
The poverty of these unhappy men tempted them to make a speedy resolution
of committing depredations on the public; in consequence of which they hired horses,
as to go to Windsor; but instead thereof they rode towards Finchley; and in a road
between Highgate and Hornsey, they robbed two farmers, whom they compelled to
dismount, and turned their horses loose.
Hastening to London with their ill-gotten booty, they went to a public house in
Monmouth-street, where one of them taking his handkerchief out of his pocket,
accidentally drew out his pistol with it, which being remarked by a person in
company, he procured a peace officer, who took them into custody on suspicion.
Having been lodged in the Round House for that night, they were taken before
a magistrate on the following day; and being separately examined, disagreed much in
their tale; and the parties who had been robbed attending, and swearing to their
persons, they were committed for trial.
When they were brought to the bar, they endeavoured to prove that they were
absent from the spot at the time the robbery was committed: but failing in this, a
verdict of guilty was given against them; and they received sentence of death.
After conviction they behaved with every sign of contrition. Picken was in a
very bad state of health almost the whole time he lay under sentence of death; and
complained much of the ingratitude of his wife, who first advised him to the
commission of the crime, yet never visited him during his miserable confinement in
Newgate. These unhappy men prepared to meet their fate with decent resignation, and
received the sacrament with every sign of genuine devotion.
They were so shocked at the idea of their approaching dissolution, that they
trembled with the dreadful apprehension, and were unable to give that advice to the
surrounding multitude, which, however, might be easily implied from their. pitiable
condition.
This robbery, for any thing that appeared to the contrary, being their first
offence against the law, these unfortunate men were, surely, objects of royal
clemency. In more merciful times, like the present, we are of opinion that our king
would at least have remitted their punishment; but most likely have granted them a
pardon.
VINCENT DAVIS
Executed at Tyburn, April 3rd, 1725, for the murder of his wife.
WHENEVER a man ill treats a woman, who by every action of her life shows
herself his friend, the partner of his toil, and the consoler of his mind, under worldly
misfortunes, it is abominable; but what punishment awaits the execrable wretch who
sheds the blood of such a wife? Such however, shocking to relate, befel the wife of
this abhorred murderer, who appears to have possessed qualities, deserving the
protection of a good man. We have already, in the duty we owe the reader, had
occasion to present too many instances of the flagitious conduct of females; but to the
good, we would repeat, after the excellent Poet Otway, —
"There's in you all that we believe in heaven,
Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,
Eternal joy, and everlasting love."
This shocking sinner, who followed the trade of a butcher in Smithfield,
behaved with cruelty to his wife, and though he had been married some years,
accustomed himself to keep company with women of ill fame.
Going out one Sunday morning he staid till noon; and coming home to dinner
went out again soon afterwards, and was directly followed by his wife, who found
him drinking with some bad women at a house in Pye-corner; and coming home,
mentioned this circumstance to her neighbours. Soon afterwards the husband returned;
and using some threatening expressions, the wife desired a lodger in the same house
to go down stairs with her, lest he should beat her. The woman accordingly attended
her, and was witness to Davis's beating her in a barbarous manner, and threatening to
murder her because she had interrupted him while in the company of the other
women. Hereupon the wife ran away, and secreted herself for a time; but returning to
her lodgings, begged admission into her landlady's room, who hid her behind the bed.
In the interim the husband had been out; but, returning, went to bed, and when his
wife thought he was asleep, she went in the room to search his pockets, in. which she
found only a few halfpence, and coming down stairs said that her husband had laid a
knife by the bedside, from which she concluded that he had an intention of murdering
her.
Mrs. Davis being concealed during the night, the landlady went into her
husband's room in the morning, and said, "What do you mean by threatening to
commit murder in my house?" On this he snatched up, his knife; and the landlady
taking hold of a small cane, he took it from her, saying he valued it as his life; as he
kept it to beat his wife with.
In the evening of this day the wife and landlady finding him at the before-
mentioned house in Pye-corner, he beat his wife most severely; on which the landlady
advised Mrs. Davis to swear the peace against him, and have him imprisoned, as she
had done on a similar occasion. About an hour after this he went home, and said to his
wife, "What business have you here, or any where in my company?—-You shall
follow me no more for I am married to little Jenny."
The wife, who seems to have had more love for him than such a miscreant
deserved, said she could not help it, but she would drink with him and be friends; and
on his taking his supper to an alehouse, she followed him; but soon returned with her
hands bloody, saying he had cut her fingers.
On his return he directed his wife to light him to his room, which she did, and
earnestly entreated him to be reconciled to her; but instead of making any kind of
reply, he drew his knife, and following her into the landlady's room, he there stabbed
her in the breast.
Thus wounded, the poor wretch ran down stairs, and was followed by the
murderer: She was sheltered in a neighbouring house, where sitting down, and pulling
off her stomacher, she bled to death in about half an hour.
In the interim the landlady called the watchman, who soon apprehended Davis
and conducted him to the house where the dead woman lay; on which he said, "Betty,
won't you speak to me?" A woman who was present said, "You will find to your
sorrow, that she will never speak more;" and to this the murderer replied, "Well, I
know I shall be hanged; and I would as soon suffer for her as another."
Being committed to the care of a peace officer, he was conveyed to prison, in
his way to which he said; "I have killed the best wife in the world, and I am certain of
being hanged; but for God's sake don't let me be anatomized."
When he was brought to his trial, the above recited facts were proved by the
testimony of several witnesses; and on the jury pronouncing the verdict of Guilty, he
execrated the court with the most profane imprecations.
While he lay under sentence of death, he affected a false bravery; but when orders
were given for his execution, his assumed courage left him, and he appeared greatly
terrified, as well indeed he might at his approaching fate. He had such a dread of
falling into the hands of the surgeons, that he sent letters to several of his
acquaintance, begging they would rescue his body if any attempt should be made to
take it away.
He behaved in the most gloomy and reserved manner at the place of execution.
It was our intention to have commented, at some length, on the unmanly and inhuman
crime, of a man murdering his wife, in our account of the preceding murderer, Lewis
Houssart; but we find the case of Davis even still more detestable, and the feelings of
our readers on its perusal must render it unnecessary to do more than express our
detestation of such monsters.
ROBERT HARPHAM
Under the Pretence of making Buttons he made Coins, and was executed at
Tyburn, 24th of May, 1725
THIS offender lived in Westminster, where he carried on the business of a
carpenter for a considerable time with some success; but at length had the misfortune
to become a bankrupt, after which he appears to have turned his thoughts to a very
dishonest way of acquiring money. Having engaged the assistance of one Fordham, he
hired a house near St Paul's Churchyard, and pretending to be a button-maker he put
up an iron press, with which he used to coin money, and Fordham, having aided him
in the coinage, put off the counterfeit money thus made. From hence they removed to
Rosemary Lane, and there carried on the same dangerous business for some time, till
the neighbours, observing that great quantities of charcoal were brought in and the
utmost precaution taken to keep the door shut, began to form very unfavourable
suspicions; on which Harpham took a cellar in Paradise Row, near Hanover Square, to
which the implements were removed. While in this situation, Harpham invited a
gentleman to dine with him, and was imprudent enough to take him into his workshop
and show him his tools. The gentleman wondering for what purpose they could be
intended, Harpham said: "In this press I can make buttons, but I will show you
something else that is a greater rarity." Having said this, he struck a piece of metal,
which instantly bore the resemblance of half-a-guinea, except the milling on the edge;
but another instrument being applied to it, the half-guinea was completed. Our coiners
now removed to Jermyn Street, St. James's where Harpham took an empty cellar, and
on the old pretence of button-making gave orders to a bricklayer to put up a grate. The
bricklayer remarking what a quantity of coals the grate would consume; the other said
it was so much the better, for it was calculated to dress victuals either by baking,
stewing, roasting or boiling. Harpham kept the key of this cellar, permitting no one to
enter but Fordham; and once in three weeks he had a quantity of charcoal and sea-coal
put in through the window. The landlord of the place, suspecting some illegal
proceeding, desired his neighbours to watch the parties; in consequence of which
Harpham was soon discovered in the attempt to put off counterfeit money; on which
he and his assistant were apprehended and committed to Newgate; and Fordham being
admitted an evidence, the other was convicted, and received sentence of death. At the
place of execution he exhorted the persons present to beware of covetousness and be
content in the station allotted them by Providence.
JONATHAN WILD
Director of a Corporation of Thieves, and a most famous Receiver. Executed
at Tyburn, 24th of May, 1725
Jonathan Wild on his way to Execution
OF all the thieves that ever infested London this man was the most notorious.
That eminent vagabond, Barnfylde Moore Carew, was recognized as 'King of the
Beggars:' — in like manner may the name and memory of Jonathan Wild be ever held
in abhorrence as 'The Prince of Robbers.'
The history of the arts, deceptions, cruelty, and perfidy of this man, have alone
filled a volume; and, should he occupy more room in our epitome than may be
deemed necessary, we have only to observe, that the whole catalogue of other crimes
exposed in this Chronology, centred in one individual, would scarcely produce a
parallel with this thief-taker, and most finished thief.
Jonathan Wild was born at Wolverhampton, in Staffordshire, about the year
1682. He was the eldest son of his parents, who, at a proper age, put him to a day-
school, which he continued to attend till he had gained a sufficient knowledge in
reading, writing, and accounts, to qualify him for business. His father had intended to
bring him up to his own trade; but changed that design, and, at about the age of
fifteen, apprenticed him for seven years to a buckle-maker in Birmingham. Upon the
expiration of this term be returned to Wolverhampton, married a young woman of
good character, and gained a tolerable livelihood by working at his business.
About two years after, in the course of which time his wife gave birth to a son,
he formed the resolution of visiting London, deserted his wife and child, and set out
for the metropolis, where he got into employment, and maintained himself by his
trade: being, however, of an extravagant disposition, many months had not elapsed
after his arrival before be was arrested for debt, and thrown into Wood Street
Compter, where he remained upwards of four years. In a pamphlet which he
published, and which we shall more particularly mention hereafter, be says that during
his imprisonment 'it was impossible but he must, in some measure, be let into the
secrets of the criminals there under confinement, and particularly Mr. Hitchin's
management.'
Whilst in the Compter, Wild assiduously cultivated the acquaintance of his
fellow-captives, and attended to their accounts of the exploits in which they had been
engaged with singular satisfaction. In this prison was a woman named Mary Milliner,
who had long been considered as one of the most abandoned prostitutes and
pickpockets in the town. After having escaped the punishment due to the variety of
felonies of which she had been guilty, she was put under confinement for debt. An
intimacy soon commenced between this woman and Wild, and they had no sooner
obtained their freedom than they lived under the denomination of man and wife. By
their iniquitous practices they quickly obtained a sum of money, which enabled them
to open a little public house in Cock Alley, facing Cripplegate church.
Milliner being personally acquainted with most of the depraved characters by
whom London and its environs were infested, and perfectly conversant as to the
manner of their proceedings, she was considered by Wild as a most useful companion;
and indeed very materially contributed towards rendering him one of the most
accomplished proficients in the arts of villainy. He industriously penetrated into the
secrets of felons of every description, who resorted in great numbers to his house, in
order to dispose of their booties; and they looked upon him with a kind of awe, arising
from the consciousness that their lives were at all times in his power.
Wild was at little trouble to dispose of the articles brought to him by thieves at
something less than their real value, no law existing at this period for the punishment
of the receivers of stolen goods; but the evil increased at length to so enormous a
degree, that it was deemed expedient by the legislature to frame a law for its
suppression. An act was passed, therefore, consigning such as should be convicted of
receiving goods, knowing them to have been stolen, to transportation for the space of
fourteen years.
Wild's practices were considerably interrupted by the above-mentioned law; to
elude the operation of which, however, he adopted the following plan — he called a
meeting of all the thieves known to him, 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 informed them that he had devised a plan for removing the
inconveniences under which they laboured, recommended them to follow his advice,
and to behave towards him with honour; and concluded by proposing that, when they
made prize of any thing, they should deliver it to him, instead of carrying it to the
pawnbroker, saying 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 proposal was received with general approbation, and it was resolved to
carry it into immediate execution. All the stolen effects were to be given into the
possession of Wild, who soon appointed convenient places wherein they were to be
deposited, rightly judging that it would not be prudent to have them left at his own
house.
The infamous plan being thus concerted, it became the business of Wild to
apply to persons who had been robbed, pretending to be greatly concerned at their
misfortunes, saying that some suspected property had been stopped by a very honest
man, a broker, with whom he was acquainted, and that, if their goods happened to be
in the hands of his friend, restitution should be made. But he failed not to suggest that
the broker ought to be rewarded for his trouble and disinterestedness; and to use every
argument in his power towards exacting a promise that no disagreeable consequences
should ensue to his friend, who had imprudently neglected to apprehend the supposed
thieves.
Happy in the prospect of regaining their property, without the trouble and
expense necessarily attending prosecutions, people generally approved of the conduct
of Wild, and sometimes rewarded him even with one half of the real value of the
goods restored. It was not, however, uniformly so; and sundry pertinacious
individuals, not satisfied with Wild's superficial statement, questioned him
particularly as to the manner of their goods being discovered. On these occasions he
pretended to feel hurt that his honour should be disputed, alleging that his motive was
to afford all the service in his power to the injured party, whose goods he imagined
might possibly be those stopped by his friend; but since his honest intentions had been
received in so ungracious a manner, and himself interrogated respecting the robbers,
he had nothing further to say on the subject, but must take his leave; adding, that his
name was Jonathan Wild, and that he was every day to be found at his house in Cock
Alley, Cripplegate. This affectation of resentment seldom failed to answer the
purposes proposed by it; and a more favourable estimate of his principles and
character thus formed, he had an opportunity of advancing his demands.
WILD received in his own name no gratuity from the owners of stolen goods,
but deducted his profit from the money which was to be paid the broker: thus did he
amass considerable sums without danger of prosecution, his offences coming under
the operation of no law then in existence. For several years indeed he preserved a
tolerably fair character, so consummate was the art employed in the management of
his schemes.
Our hero's business greatly increasing, and his name becoming well known, he
altered his mode of action. Instead of applying directly to parties who had been
plundered, he opened an office, to which great numbers resorted, in hopes of
recovering their effects. Re 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 dispatched, he entered in
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 desired to call again in a few days, when 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.
Wild, at length, became eminent in his profession, which proved highly
lucrative. When he had discovered the utmost sum that it was likely would be given
for the recovery of any property, he requested its owner to apply at a particular time,
and, meanwhile, caused the goods to be ready for delivery.
Considerable advantages were derived from examining the person who had
been robbed; as he thence 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,
being aware that, by opposing his inclination, they should involve themselves in the
most imminent danger of being sacrificed to the injured laws of their country.
Through the infamous practices of this man, articles which had been before
considered as of little use but to the owners now became matters claiming particular
attention from the thieves, by whom the metropolis and its environs were haunted.
Pocket-books, books of accounts, watches, rings, trinkets, and a variety of articles of
but small intrinsic worth, were at once esteemed very profitable plunder. Books of
accounts, and other writings, being of great importance to the owners, produced very
handsome rewards; and the same may be said of pocket-books, which generally
contained curious memorandums, and sometimes banknotes and other articles on
which money could be readily procured.
Wild accumulated cash so fast, that he considered himself a man of
consequence; and, to support his imaginary dignity, 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, e
instantly struck at her with it and cut off one of her ears. This event was the cause of a
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.
Before Wild had brought the plan of his office to perfection, he for some time
acted as an assistant to Charles Hitchin, once city-marshal, a man as wicked as
himself. These celebrated co-partners in villainy, 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 these public reformers with private 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.
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,
notwithstanding the efforts of Hitchin, his rival in iniquity, to suppress his
proceedings.
The reader's astonishment will increase when we state that these two
abandoned miscreants had the daring effrontery to appeal to the public, and attacked
each other with all possible scurrility in pamphlets and advertisements. Never, surely,
was the press so debased as in disgorging time filth 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; and his pamphlet containing much curious information, we shall
incorporate a part of it, requesting the reader to bear in mind that it refers to a
previous part or our hero's career.
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 very 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 the
thieves and pickpockets see you and I 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: towards dark
they proceeded to Temple-bar, and called in at several brandy-shops and alehouses
between that and Fleet Ditch; some of the masters of these houses complimented the
marshal with punch, others with brandy, and some presented him with fine ale,
offering their service to their worthy protector. Hitchin made them little answer; but
gave them to understand all the service he expected from them was, to give
information of pocket-books, or any goods stolen, as a pay-back: 'For you women of
the town,' addressing himself to some females in one of the shops, 'make it a common
practice to resign things of this nature to the bullies and rogues of your retinue; but
this shall no longer be borne with. I'll give you my word both they and you shall be
detected, unless you deliver all the pocket-books you meet with to me. What do you
think I bought my place for, but to make the most of it? and you are to understand this
is my man (pointing to our buckle-maker to assist me. And if you at any time, for the
future, refuse to yield up the watches or books you take, either to me or my servant,
you may be assured of being all sent to Bridewell, and not one of you shall be
permitted to walk the streets longer. For, notwithstanding I am under suspension
(chiefly for not suppressing the practices of such vermin as you), I have still a power
of punishing, and you shall dearly pay for not observing deference to me.' Strutting
along a little farther, he on a sudden seized two or three dexterous pickpockets,
reprimanding them for not paying their respects, asking to what part of the town they
were rambling, and whether they did not see him? They answered that they saw him
at a distance, but he caught hold of them so hastily that they had no time to address
him. 'We have been strolling' said they, 'over Moorfields, and from thence to the Blue
Boar, in pursuit of you; but not finding you, as usual, were under some fears that you
were indisposed.' The marshal replied, he should have given them a meeting there, but
had been employed the whole day with his new man. 'You are to be very careful,' said
he, 'not to oblige any person but myself, or servant, with pocket-books; if you
presume to do otherwise you shall swing for it, and we are out in the city every night
to observe your motions.' These instructions given, the pickpockets left, making their
master a low congee and promising obedience. Such was the progress the first night
with the buckle-maker, whom he told that his staff of authority terrified the ignorant
to the extent of his wishes.
Some nights afterwards, walking towards the back part of St. Paul's, the ex-
marshal thus addressed Jonathan: — 'I will now show you a brandy-shop that
entertains no company but whores and thieves. This is a house for our purpose, and I
am informed that a woman of the town who frequents it has lately robbed a gentleman
of his watch and pocket-book: this advice I received from her companion, with whom
I have a good understanding. We will go into this house, and, if we can find this
woman, I will assume a sterner countenance (though at best I look like an infernal), by
continued threats extort a confession, and by that means get possession of the watch
and pocket-book; in order to which, do you slily accost her companion.' — Here he
described her. — 'Call to her, and say that your master is in a damned ill humour, and
swears if she does not instantly make a discovery where the watch and pocket-book
may be found, at farthest by to-morrow, he will certainly send her to the Compter, and
thence to the workhouse.'
The means being thus concerted to obtain the valuable goods, both master and
man entered the shop in pursuit of the game, and, according to expectation, found the
person wanted, with several others; whereupon the marshal, showing an enraged
countenance becoming the design, and Wild being obliged to follow his example, the
company said that the master and man looked as sour as two devils. 'Devils!' said the
marshal; 'I'll make some of you devils, if you do not immediately discover the watch
and pocket-book I am employed to procure.' 'We do not know your meaning, Sir,'
answered some. — 'Who do you discourse to?' said others; 'we know nothing of it.'
The marshal replied in a softer tone, 'You are ungrateful to the last degree to deny me
this small request, when I was never let info the secret of any thing to be taken from a
gentleman but I communicated it to you, describing the person so exactly that you
could not mistake your man; and there is so little got at this rate, that the devil may
trade with you for me!'
This speech being made, the marshal gave a nod to his man, who called one of
the women to the door, and, telling the story above directed, the female answered,
'Unconscionable devil! when he gets five or ten guineas, not to bestow above as many
shillings upon us unfortunate wretches! but, however, rather than go to the Compter,
I'll try what is to be done.'
The woman, returning to Hitchin, asked him what he would give for the
delivery of the watch, being seven or eight pounds in value, and the pocket-book,
having in it various notes and goldsmiths' bills: to whom the marshal answered, a
guinea; and told her it was much better to comply than to go to Newgate, which she
must certainly expect upon her refusal. The woman replied that the watch was in
pawn for forty shillings, and if he did not advance that sum she should be obliged to
strip herself for its redemption; though, when her furbelowed scarf was laid aside, she
had nothing underneath but furniture for a paper-mill. After abundance of words, he
allowed her thirty shillings for the watch and book, which she accepted, and the watch
was never returned to the owner!
Some little time after this, a gentleman in liquor going into the Blue Boar, near
Moorfields, with a woman of the town, immediately lost his watch. Tie applied to the
ex-marshal, desiring his assistance; but the buckle-maker, being well acquainted with
the walk between Cripplegate and Moorfields, had the fortune to find the woman. The
master immediately seized her on notice given, and by vehement threatenings obliged
her to a confession. She declared that she had stolen the watch, and carried it to a
woman that kept a brandy-shop near, desiring her to assist in the sale of it. The
mistress of the brandy-shop readily answered that she had it from an honest young
woman who frequented her house, whose husband was gone to sea; whereupon she
pawned the watch for its value, and ordered the sale.
This story seeming reasonable, a watchmaker had purchased the watch, and
gave the money agreed for it, which was fifty shillings. Thus the sale of the watch
being discovered, the marshal, with his staff and assistants, immediately repaired to
the watchmaker's house, and, seizing the watchmaker in the same manner as a person
would do the greatest criminal, carried him to a public house, telling him that if he did
not forthwith send for the watch he should be committed to Newgate.
The watchmaker, not being any ways accustomed to unfair dealings, directly
answered that he bought the watch, and the person he had it of would produce the
woman that stole it if it were stolen, the woman being then present. The marshal
replied he had no business with the persons that stole the property, but with him in
whose possession it was found; and that, if he did not instantly send for the watch, and
deliver it without insisting upon any money, but on the contrary return him thanks for
his civility, which deserved five or ten pieces, he would without delay send him to
Newgate.
Hereupon the innocent artisan, being much surprised, sent for the watch, and
surrendered it; and since that it has sufficiently appeared that the owner made a
present to Hitchin of three guineas for his trouble, whilst the poor watchmaker
underwent a dead loss of his fifty shillings. This story and the following afford a
pretty good example of the honesty of this city-marshal:
A biscuit-baker near Wapping having lost a pocketbook, wherein was, among
other papers, an exchequer-bill for 100l. applied himself to the marshal's man, the
buckle-maker, for the recovery thereof: the buckle-maker 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. The biscuit-baker
answered yes; and desiring to know his reasons for putting such a question, or
whether he could give him any intelligence; he replied, no, he could not give him any
intelligence of it as yet, but wished to be informed whether he had employed any
person to search after it. To which the biscuit-baker answered, he had employed one
Wild. Hereupon the marshal told him he was under a mistake; that he should have
applied to him, who 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, says the pamphlet, 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 he would give 10L. 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 40L. or 50L. he would have served him.
The biscuit-baker having acquainted Wild with this story, the latter gave it as
his opinion that the pocketbook was in the marshal's possession, and that it would be
to no purpose to continue advertising it, he being well assured that the marshal would
not have taken the pains to find out the biscuit-baker, unless he knew how to get at it.
Upon the whole, therefore, he advised the owner rather to advance his bidding,
considering what hands the note was in, especially as the marshal had often told his
servant how easily he could dispose of banknotes and exchequer-bills at gaming-
houses, which he very much frequented.
Pursuant to this advice, the losing party went a second time to the marshal, and
bid 401. for his pocket-book and bill. ' Zounds, sir,' said the marshal, 'you are too late!
' which 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 pocketbook; whereupon one of them came to Wild, and discovered the
whole matter, viz, that he had sold the pocket-book, with the 100L. exchequer-note in
it, and other bills, to the city-marshal, at a tavern in Aldersgate Street, for four or five
guineas.
A person standing in the pillory, near Charing Cross, a gentleman in the crowd
was deprived of a pocketbook, which had in it bills and lottery-tickets to the value of
several hundred pounds; and a handsome reward (30L.) was at first offered for it in a
public advertisement. The marshal, having a suspicion that a famous pickpocket,
known by his lame hand, had taken the book, he applied to him; and, to enforce a
confession and delivery, told him, with a great deal of assurance, that he must be the
person, such a man, with a lame hand, having been described by the gentleman to
have been near hint, and whom he was certain had stolen his book. 'In short,' says he,
'you had the book, and you must bring it to me, and you shall share the reward; but, if
you refuse to comply with such advantageous terms, you must never expect to come
within the city gates; for, if you do, Bridewell, at least, if not Newgate, shall be your
residence.'
After several meetings, the marshal's old friend could not deny that he had the
pocket-book: but he said to the marshal, I did not expect this rigorous treatment from
you, after the services I have done you, in concealing you several times, and by that
means keeping you out of a gaol. It is not the way to expect any future service, when
all my former good offices are forgotten.' Notwithstanding these reasons, Hitchin still
insisted upon what he had at first proposed; and at length the pickpocket, considering
that he could not repair to the Exchange, or elsewhere, to follow his pilfering
employment, without the marshal's consent, and fearing to be made a mark of his
revenge, condescended to part with the pocket-book upon terms reasonable between
buyer and seller. Whereupon says the marshal, 'I lost all my money last night at
gaming, except a gold watch in my pocket, which I believe there will be no inquiry
after, it coming to hand by an intrigue with a woman of the town, whom the
gentleman will be ashamed to prosecute for fear of exposing himself. I'll exchange
goods for goods with you.' So the pickpocket, rather than he would risk the
consequence of disobliging his master, concluded the bargain.
One night, not far from St. Paul's, the marshal and his man met with a
detachment of pickpocket boys, who instantly, at the sight of their master, took to
their heels and ran away. The buckle-maker asked the meaning of their surprise. To
which the marshal answered, 'I know their meaning, a pack of rogues! they were to
have met me in the fields, this morning, with a book I am informed they have taken
from a gentleman and they are afraid of being secured for their disobedience. There is
Jack Jones among them. — We'll catch the whore's bird.' Jack Jones, running behind a
coach to make his escape, was taken by the marshal and his man. The master carried
him to a tavern, and threatened him severely, telling him he believed they were turned
housebreakers, and that they were concerned in a burglary lately committed by four
young criminals. This happened to be the fact, and the boy fearing the marshal had
been informed of it, he, for his own security, confessed, and the marshal promised to
save his life on his becoming evidence: whereupon the marshal committed the boy to
the Compter till the next morning, when he carried him before a justice of the peace,
who took his information, and issued a warrant for the apprehension of his
companions.
Notice being given where the criminals were to be found, viz, at a house in
Beech Lane, Hitchin and Wild went privately in the night thither, and, listening at the
door, they overheard the boys, with several others, in a mixed company. Entering the
house, they met ten or twelve persons, who were in a great rage, inquiring what
business the marshal had there, and saluting him with a few oaths, which occasioned
the marshal to make a prudent retreat, pulling the door after him, and leaving his little
man to the mercy of the savage company.
In a short time the marshal returned with eight or ten watchmen and a
constable; and, at the door, out of his dastardly disposition, though his pretence was a
ceremonious respect, obliged the constable to go in first; but the constable and
marshal were both so long with their compliments that the man thought neither of
them would enter in: at last the constable appearing, with his long staff extended
before him, the marshal manfully followed, crying out, 'Where are the rebel villains?
Why don't ye secure them?' Wild answered that they were under the table; upon which
the constable pulled out the juvenile offenders, neither of whom were above twelve
years of age. The two boys now taken were committed to Newgate; but the fact
having been perpetrated in the county of Surrey, they were afterwards removed to the
Marshalsea prison. The assizes coining en at Kingston, and Jones giving his evidence
against his companions before the grand jury, a true bill was found, and the marshal
endorsed his name on the back of it, to have the honour of being an evidence against
these monstrous housebreakers. On the trial, the nature of the fact was declared; but
the parents of the offenders appeared, and satisfied the Court that the marshal was the
occasion of the ruin of these boys, by taking them into the fields, and encouraging
them in the stealing of pocket-books; and told him, on his affirming they were thieves,
that he had made them such. The judge, observing the marshal's views were more to
get the reward than to do justice, summed up the charge to the jury in favour of the
boys, who were thereupon acquitted, and the marshal reprimanded. He was so enraged
at this, and so angry with himself for not accusing them of other crimes, that he
immediately returned to London, leaving his man to discharge the whole reckoning at
Kingston.
A gentleman, who had lost his watch when in company with a woman of the
town, applied to a person belonging to the Compter, who recommended him to the
buckle-maker, to procure the same; and the gentleman applying accordingly to him,
and giving him a description of the woman, the buckle-maker, a few days after,
traversing Fleet Street with his master in an evening, happened to meet with the
female (as he apprehended by the description of the gentleman) who had stolen the
watch, and, coming nearer, was satisfied therein.
He told his master that she was the very person described: to which the master
answered, with an air of pleasure, 'I am glad to find we have a prospect of something
to-night to defray our expenses,' and immediately, with the assistance of Wild, seized
the female and carried her to a public house, where upon examination, she confessed
it was in her power to serve the marshal in it; telling him that if he would please to go
with her home, or send his man, the watch would be returned, with a suitable reward
for his trouble. The man asked his master his opinion, whether he thought he might
pursue the woman with safety? To which the other replied, Yes, for that he knew her,
at the same time giving hints of his following at a reasonable distance, for his security,
which he did with a great deal of precaution, as will appear; for, proceeding with the
female, she informed him that her husband, who had the watch about him, was at a
tavern near Whitefriars, and, if he would condescend to go thither, he might he
furnished with it without giving himself any farther trouble, together with the reward
he deserved, — To which Wild consenting, they came to the tavern, where she made
inquiry for the company she had been with but a short space before; and, being
informed they were still in the house, she sent in word by the drawer that the
gentlewoman who had been with them that evening desired the favour to speak with
them. The drawer going in, and delivering the message, immediately three or four
men came from the room to the female: she gave them to understand that the
marshal's man had accused her of stealing a watch, telling them she supposed it must
be some other woman who had assumed her name, and desired their protection: upon
this the whole company sallied out, and attacked the marshal's man in a very violent
manner, to make a rescue of the female, upbraiding him for degrading a gentlewoman
of her reputation. The marshal having followed at a little distance, and observed the ill
success of his man, fearing the like discipline, made off, hugging himself that he had
escaped the severe treatment he had equally deserved. Jonathan in the struggle
showed his resentment chiefly against the female; who, after a long contest, was thrust
out at the back door; and immediately the watch being called, he and the rest of the
party were seized.
As they were going to the Compter, the marshal overtook them near Bow
church, and, coming up to Wild in great haste, asked him the occasion of his long
absence: the man said, that he had been at a tavern with the woman, where he thought
he saw him: the master answered, that indeed he was there; but seeing the confusion
so great, he went off to call the watch and constables. The marshal used his interest to
get his servant off, but to no purpose, he being carried to the Compter with the rest of
the company, in order to muke an agreement there.
The next morning the woman sent to her companions in the Compter, letting
them know that, if they could be released, the watch should he returned without any
consideration, which was accordingly done, and a small present made to the marshal's
man for smart-money. They were now all discharged, paying their fees.
The watch being thus ready to be produced to the owner, the marshal insisted
upon the greatest part of the reward, as being the highest person in authority: the man
declared this unreasonable, he himself having received the largest share of the
bastinado. 'But, however,' says the marshal, 'I have now an opportunity of playing my
old game; I'll oblige the gentleman to give me ten guineas to save his reputation,
which is so nearly concerned with a common prostitute.' But the gentleman knew too
much of his character to be thus imposed upon, and would give him no more than
what he promised, which was three guineas. Hitchin at first refused; but his man (who
had the most right to make a new contract) advising him to act cautiously, he at last
agreed to accept the reward first offered, giving Jonathan only one guinea for his
services and the cure of his wounds. The above is a farther instance of the marshal's
cowardice and inhumanity.
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 bailiff's wife. ' You are more likely to be a whore,' said
the marshal, and as such you shall go to the Compter.'
Taking the woman through St. Paul's Church-yard, 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 the supper 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 bands 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. 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 drank at her expense, she was discharged. This is
an excellent method to get a good supper gratis, and to fill an empty pocket.
The marshal, previous to his suspension, had daily meetings with the
pickpocket boys in Moorfields, and treated them there plentifully with cakes and ale;
offering them sufficient encouragement to continue their thefts: and at a certain time it
happened that one of the boys, more cunning than his companions, having stolen an
alderman's pocket-book, and finding, on opening it, several bank bills, he gave the
marshal to understand that it was worth a great deal beyond the usual price; and, the
notes being of considerable value, insisted upon five pieces. The marshal told the boy
that five pieces were enough to break him at once; that if he gave him two guineas he
would be sufficiently paid; but assured him that, if he had the good luck to obtain a
handsome reward, he would then make it up five pieces. Upon this present
encouragement and future expectation the boy delivered up the pocketbook, and a few
days afterwards, being informed that a very large reward had been given for the notes,
he applied to the marshal for the remaining three guineas, according to promise; but
all the satisfaction he got was, that he should be sent to the house of correction if he
continued to demand it; the marshal telling him that such rascals as he were ignorant
how to dispose of their money.
This conniving at the intrigues of the pickpockets, taking the stolen pocket-
books, and sending threatening letters to the persons that lost them, under pretence
that they had been in company with lewd women; extorting money also from persons
in various other ways; were the causes of the marshal's being suspended; and this
most detestable villain having subsequently been fined twenty pounds, and pilloried,
for a crime too loathsome to be named in these pages, left Wild at length alone to
execute his plans of depredation on the public.
We shall now, quitting Mr. Wild's recriminating pamphlet, proceed in our
regular account of the hero of this narrative. — When the vagabonds with whom he
was in league faithfully related to him the particulars of the robberies they had
committed, and intrusted to him the disposal of their booties, he assured them that
they might safely rely on him for protection against the vengeance of the law; and
indeed it must be acknowledged that in cases of this nature he would persevere in his
utmost endeavours to surmount very great difficulties rather than wilfully falsify his
word.
Wild's artful behaviour, and the punctuality with which he discharged his
engagements, obtained him a great share of confidence among thieves of every
denomination; insomuch, that if he caused it to be intimated to them that he was
desirous of seeing them, and that they should not be molested, they would attend him
with the utmost willingness, without entertaining the most distant apprehension of
danger, although conscious that he had informations against them, and that their lives
were absolutely in his power; but if they presumed to reject his proposals, or proved
otherwise refractory, he would address them to the following effect: 'I have given you
my word that you should come and go in safety, and so you shall; but take care of
yourself, for, if ever you see me again, you see an enemy.'
The great influence that Wild obtained over the thieves will not be thought a
very extraordinary matter, if it is considered that, when he promised to use his
endeavours for rescuing them from impending fate, he was always desirous, and
generally able, to succeed. Such as complied with his measures he would never
interrupt; but on the contrary, afford them every encouragement for prosecuting their
iniquitous practices; and, if apprehended by any other person, he seldom failed of
procuring their discharge. His most usual method (in desperate cases, and when
matters could not be managed with more ease and expedition) was to procure them to
be admitted evidences, under pretext that it was in their power to make discoveries of
high importance to the public. When they were in prison he frequently attended them,
and communicated to them from his own memorandums such particulars as he judged
it would be prudent for them to relate to the Court. When his accomplices were
apprehended, and he was not able to prevent their being brought to trial, he contrived
stratagems (in which his invention was amazingly fertile) for keeping the principal
witnesses out of Court; so that the delinquents were generally dismissed in defect of
evidence.
Jonathan was ever a most implacable enemy to those who were hardy enough
to reject his terms, and dispose of their stolen effects for their own separate advantage.
He was industrious to an extreme in his efforts to surrender them into the hands of
justice; and, being acquainted with all their usual places of resort, it was scarcely
possible for them to escape his vigilance.
By his subjecting such as incurred his displeasure to the punishment of the
law, he obtained the rewards offered for pursuing them to conviction; greatly
extended his ascendancy over the other thieves, who considered him with a kind of
awe; and, at the same time, established his character as being a man of great public
utility.
It was the practice of Wild to give instructions to the thieves whom he
employed as to the manner in which they should conduct themselves; and, if they
followed his directions, it was seldom that they failed of success. But if they neglected
a strict observance of his rules, or were, through inadvertency or ignorance, guilty of
any kind of mismanagement or error in the prosecution of the schemes he had
suggested, it was to be understood almost as an absolute certainty that he would
procure them to be convicted at the next sessions, deeming them to be unqualified for
the profession of roguery.
He was frequently asked how it was possible that he could carry on the
business of restoring stolen effects, and yet not be in league with the robbers; and his
replies were always to this purpose — 'My acquaintance among thieves is very
extensive, and, when I receive information of a robbery, I make inquiry after the
suspected parties, and leave word at proper places that, if the goods are left where I
appoint, the reward shall be paid, and no questions asked. Surely no imputation of
guilt can fall upon me; for I hold no interviews with the robbers, nor are the goods
given into my possession.'
We will now give a relation of the most remarkable exploits of the hero of
these pages; and our detail must necessarily include many particulars relating to other
notorious characters of the same period.
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
applications 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 young gentleman, named Knap, accompanied his mother to Sadler's Wells,
on Saturday, March 31, 1716. On their return they were attacked, about ten at night,
near the wall of Gray's Inn Gardens, by five villains. The young gentleman was
knocked down, and his mother, being exceedingly alarmed, called for assistance;
upon which a pistol was discharged at her, and she instantly fell down dead. A
considerable reward was offered by proclamation in the Gazette for the discovery of
the perpetrator of this horrid crime; and Wild was remarkably assiduous in his
endeavours to apprehend the offenders. From a description given of some of the
villains, Wild immediately judged the gang to be composed of William White,
Thomas Thurland, John Chapman alias Edward Darvel, Timothy Dun, and Isaac Rag.
On the evening of Sunday, April 8, Wild received intelligence that some of the
above-named men were drinking with their prostitutes at a house kept by John
Weatherly, in Newtoner's Lane. He went to Weatherly's, accompanied by his man
Abraham, and seized White, whom he brought away about midnight, in a hackney-
coach, and lodged him in the round-house.
White being secured, information was given to Wild that a man named James
Aires was then at the Bell Inn, Smithfield, in company with a woman of the town.
Having an information against Aires, Wild, accompanied by his assistants, repaired to
the inn, under the gateway of which they met Thurland, whose person had been
mistaken for that of Aires. Thurland was provided with two brace of pistols; but,
being suddenly seized, he was deprived of all opportunity of making use of those
weapons, and taken into custody.
They went on the following night to a house in White Horse Alley, Drury
Lane, where they apprehended Chapman, alias Darvel. Soon after the murder of Mrs.
Knap, Chapman and others stopped the coach of Thomas Middlethwaite, Esq., but
that gentleman escaped being robbed by discharging a blunderbuss, and wounding
Chapman in the arm, on which the villains retired.
In a short time after, Wild apprehended Isaac Rag at a house which he
frequented in St. Giles's, in consequence of an information charging him with a
burglary. Being taken before a magistrate, in the course of his examination Hag
impeached twenty-two accomplices, charging them with being housebreakers,
footpads, and receivers of stolen effects; and, in consequence thereof, was admitted an
evidence for the crown. This man had been convicted of a misdemeanour in January,
1714-15, and sentenced to stand three times in the pillory. He had concealed himself
in the dust-hole belonging to the house of Thomas Powell, where being discovered, he
was searched, and a pistol, some matches, and a number of pick-lock keys, were
found in his possession. His intention was evidently to commit a burglary; but, as he
did not enter the house, he was indicted for a misdemeanour in entering the yard with
intent to steal. He was indicted on October, 1715, for a burglary, in the house of
Elizabeth Stanwell, on the 24th of August; but he was acquitted of this charge.
White, Thurland, and Chapman, were arraigned on the 18th of May, 1716, at
the sessions-house in the Old Bailey, on an indictment for assaulting John Knap,
Gent, putting him in fear, and taking from him a hat and wig, on the 3ist of March,
1716. They were also indicted for the murder of Mary Knap, widow: White by
discharging a pistol loaded with powder and bullets, and thereby giving her a wound,
of which she immediately died, March 31st 1716. They were a second time indicted
for assaulting and robbing John Gough. White was a fourth time indicted with James
Russel for a burglary in the house of George Barklay. And Chapman was a fourth
time indicted for a burglary in the house of Henry Cross. These three offenders were
executed at Tyhurn on the 8th of June, 1716.
Wild was indefatigable in his endeavours to apprehend Timothy Dun, who had
hitherto escaped the hands of justice by removing to a new lodging, where he
concealed himself in the most cautious manner. Wild however, did not despair of
discovering this offender, whom he supposed must either perish through want of the
necessaries of life, or obtain the means of subsistence by returning to his felonious
practices; and so confident was he of success, that he made a wager of ten guineas that
he would have him in custody before the expiration of an appointed time.
Dun's confinement, at length, became exceedingly irksome to him; and he sent
his wife to make inquiries respecting him of Wild, in order to discover whether he
was still in danger of being apprehended. Upon her return Wild ordered one of his
people to follow her home. She took water at Blackfriars, and landed at the Falcon;
but suspecting the man was employed to trace her, she again took water, and crossed
to Whitefriars: observing that she was still followed, she ordered the waterman to
proceed to Lambeth, and having landed there, it being nearly dark, imagined she had
escaped the observation of Wild's man, and therefore walked immediately home. The
man traced her to Maid Lane, near the Bankside, Southwark, and perceiving her enter
a house, he marked the wall with chalk, and then returned to his employer, with an
account of the discovery he had made.
Wild, accompanied by a fellow named Abraham, a Jew, who acted the part
himself had formerly done to the worthless marshal, one Riddlesden, and another
man, went on the following morning to the house where the woman had been seen to
enter. Dun, hearing a noise, and thence suspecting that he was discovered, got through
a back-window on the second floor upon the roof of the pantry, the bottom of which
was about eight feet from the ground. Abraham discharged a pistol, and wounded Dun
in the arm; in consequence of which he fell from the pantry into the yard; after his fall
Riddlesden fired also, and wounded him in the face with small-shot. Bun was secured
and carried to Newgate, and being tried at the ensuing sessions, was soon after
executed at Tyburn.
Riddlesden was bred to the law, but he entirely neglected that business, and
abandoned himself to every species of wickedness. His irregular course of life having
greatly embarrassed his circumstances, he broke into the chapel of Whitehall, and
stole the communion-plate. He was convicted of this offence, and received sentence
of death; but, through the exertion of powerful interest, a pardon was obtained, on
condition of transporting himself for the term of seven years. He went to America, but
soon returned to England, and had the address to ingratiate himself into the favour of
a young lady, daughter to an opulent merchant at Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Before he
could get his wife's fortune, which was considerable, into his hands, he was
discovered and committed to Newgate. She followed him, and was brought to bed in
the prison. Her friends, however, being apprised of her unhappy situation, caused her
to return home. He contracted an intimacy with the widow of Richard Revel, one of
the turnkeys of Newgate; and, being permitted to transport himself again, that woman
went with him to Philadelphia, under the character of his wife. In consequence,
however, of a disagreement between them, Mrs. Revel returned, and took a public
house in Golden Lane; but what became of Riddlesden does not appear.
One night, during the connexion of Wild with Hitchin the city marshal, being
abroad in their walks, not far from the Temple, they discovered a clergyman standing
against the wall, in an alley, to which he had retired, as persons frequently do, on
account of modesty and decency. Immediately a woman of the town, lying in wait for
prey, brushing by, the clergyman exclaimed aloud, 'What does the woman want?' The
marshal instantly rushed in upon them, and seized the clergyman, bidding his man
secure the woman. The clergyman resisted, protesting his innocence which his
language to the woman confirmed; but, finding it to no purpose, he at last desired that
he might be permitted to go into an ironmonger's house near. This the marshal
refused, and dragged the clergyman to the end of Salisbury Court, in Fleet Street,
where he raised a mob about him; and two or three gentlemen, who knew the parson,
happening to come by, asked the mob what they were doing with him, telling them be
was chaplain to a noble lord. The rough gentry answered, 'Damn but, we believe he's
chaplain to the devil, for we caught him with a whore.'
Jonathan Wild, Hitchin and a woman of the town entrapping a clergyman
Hereupon the gentlemen desired the marshal to go to a tavern, that they might
talk with him without noise and tumult, which he consented to. When they came into
the tavern, the clergyman asked the marshal by what authority he thus abused him.
The marshal replied he was a city officer (pulling out his staff), and would have him
to the Compter, unless he gave very good security for his appearance next morning,
when he would swear that he caught him with a whore.
The clergyman seeing him so bent upon perjury, which would very much
expose him, sent for other persons to vindicate his reputation, who, putting a purse of
gold into the marshal's hand (which they found was the only way to deal with such a
monster in iniquity), the clergyman was permitted to depart.
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. Powel 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 ordered to be taken away; but after some
time he was again set to the bar, then ordered away, and afterwards put up a third
time, proclamation being made each time for the prosecutor to appear. At length the
jury were charged with the prisoners and, as no accusation was adduced against him,
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 justly reprimanded him with great severity.
Powel 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 executed on the 20th of March, 1716-7.
At this time Wild had quitted his apartments at Mrs. Seagoe's, and hired a
house adjoining to the Coopers' Arms, on the opposite side of the Old Bailey. The
unexampled villainies of this man were now become an object of so much
consequence, as to excite the particular attention of the legislature. 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 of
Wild; 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.
In cases wherein 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.
When he was asked what would satisfy him for his trouble, he told the persons
who had recovered their property that what he had done was without any interested
view, and merely from a principle of doing good; that therefore he made no claim;
but, if he accepted a present, he should not consider it as being his due, but as an
instance of generosity, which he should acknowledge accordingly.
Our adventurer's business increased exceedingly, and he opened an office in
Newtoner's Lane, to the management of which he appointed his man Abraham. This
Israelite proved a remarkably industrious and faithful servant to Jonathan, who
intrusted him with matters of the greatest importance.
By too strict an application to business Wild much impaired his health, so that
he judged it prudent to retire into the country for a short time. he hired a lodging at
Dulwich, leaving both offices under the direction of Abraham.
A lady had her pocket picked of bank-notes to the amount of seven thousand
pounds. She related the particulars of her robbery to Abraham, who in a few days
apprehended three pickpockets, and conducted them to Jonathan's lodgings at
Dulwich. Upon their delivering up all the notes, Wild dismissed them. When the lady
applied to Abraham, he restored her property, and she generously made him a present
of four hundred pounds, which he delivered to his employer. These three pickpockets
were afterwards apprehended for some other offences, and transported. One of them
carefully concealed a bank-note for a thousand pounds in the lining of his coat. On his
arrival at Maryland, he procured cash for the note, and, having purchased his freedom,
went to New York, where he assumed the character of a gentleman.
Wild's business would not permit him to remain long at Dulwicb; and being
under great inconvenience from the want of Abraham's immediate assistance, he did
not keep open his office in Newtoner's Lane for more than three months.
About a week after the return of Jonathan from Dulwich, a mercer in Lombard
Street ordered a porter to carry to a particular inn a box containing goods to the
amount of two hundred pounds. In his way the porter was observed by three thieves,
one of whom, being more genteelly dressed than his companions, accosted the man in
the following manner: 'If you are willing to earn sixpence, my friend, step to the
tavern at the end of the street, and ask for the roquelaure I left at the bar; but, lest the
waiter should scruple giving it to you, take my gold watch as a token. Pitch your
burden upon this bulk, and I will take care of it till you return; but be sure you make
haste.' The man went to the tavern, and, having delivered his message, was informed
that the thing he inquired for had not been left there; upon which the porter said,
'Since you scruple to trust me, look at this gold watch, which the gentleman gave me
to produce as a token.' What was called a gold watch, being examined, proved to be
only pewter lacquered. In consequence of this discovery, the porter hastened back to
where he had left the box; but neither that nor the sharpers were to be found.
The porter was, with reason, apprehensive that he should incur his master's
displeasure if be related what had happened; and, in order to excuse his folly, he
determined upon the following stratagem — he rolled himself in the mud, and then
went home, saying he had been knocked down, and robbed of the goods. The
proprietor of the goods applied to Wild, and related to him the story he had been told
by his servant. Wild told him he had been deceived as to the manner in which the
trunk was lost, and that he should be convinced of it if he would send for the porter. A
messenger was accordingly dispatched for him, and, upon his arrival, Abraham
conducted him into a room separated from the office only by a slight partition. 'Your
master,' said Abraham, 'has just been here concerning the box you lost; and he desired
that you might be sent for, in order to communicate the particulars of the robbery. —
What kind of people were the thieves, and in what manner did they take the box
away? ' In reply the man said, 'Why, two or three fellows knocked me down, and then
carried off the box.' Hereupon Abraham told him, that, ' if they knocked him down,
there was but little chance of the property being recovered, since that offence rendered
them liable to be hanged. 'But,' continued he, 'Let me prevail on you to speak the
truth; for, if you persist in a refusal, be assured we shall discover it by some other
means. Pray, do you recollect nothing about a token? Were you not to fetch a
roquelaure from a tavern? and did you not produce a gold watch as a token to induce
the waiter to deliver it?' — Astonished at Abraham's words, the porter declared 'he
believed he was a witch,' and immediately acknowledged in what manner he had lost
the box.
One of the villains concerned in the above transaction lived in the house
formerly inhabited by Wild, in Cock Alley, near Cripplegate. To this place Jonathan
and Abraham repaired, and when they were at the door, they overheard a dispute
between the man and his wife, during which the former declared that he would set out
for Holland the next day. Upon this they forced open the door; and Wild, saying he
was under the necessity of preventing his intended voyage, took him into custody, and
conducted him to the Compter. 0mm the following day, the goods being returned to
the owner, Wild received a handsome reward; and he contrived to procure the
discharge of the thief.
On the 23d or 24th of January, 1718-19, Margaret Dodwell and Alice Wright
went to Wild's house, and desired to have a private interview with him. Observing one
of these women to be with child, he imagined she might want a father to her expected
issue; for it was a part of his business to procure persons to stand in the place of the
real fathers of children born in consequence of illicit commerce. Being shown into
another room, Dodwell spoke in the following manner:— 'I do not come, Mr. Wild, to
inform you that I have met with any loss, but that I wish to find something. If you will
follow my advice, you may acquire a thousand pounds, or perhaps many thousands.'
Jonathan here expressed the utmost willingness to engage in an enterprise so highly
lucrative, and the woman proceeded thus: 'My plan is this: you must procure two or
three stout resolute fellows who will undertake to rob a house in Wormwood Street,
near Bishopsgate. This house is kept by a cane chair maker, named John Cooke, who
has a lodger, an ancient maiden lady, immensely rich; and she keeps her money in a
box in her apartment; she is now gone into the country to fetch more. One of the men
must find an opportunity of getting into the shop in the evening, and conceal himself
in a sawpit there: he may let his companions in when the family are retired to rest. But
it will be particularly necessary to secure two stout apprentices, and a boy, who lie in
the garret. I wish, however, that no murder may be committed.' Upon this Wright said,
'Phoo! phoo! when people engage in matters of this sort, they must manage as well as
they can, and so as to provide for their own safety.' Dodwell now resumed her
discourse to Jonathan. 'The boys having been secured, no kind of difficulty will attend
getting possession of the old lady's money, she being from home, and her room under
that where the boys sleep. In the room facing that of the old lady, Cooke and his wife
lie: he is a man of remarkable courage; great caution, therefore, must be observed
respecting him; and indeed I think it would be as well to knock him on the head; for
then his drawers may be rifled, and he is never without money. A woman and a child
lie under the room belonging to tho old lady, but I hope no violence will be offered to
them.'
Having heard the above proposal, Wild took the women into custody, and
lodged them in Newgate. It is not to be supposed that his conduct in this affair
proceeded from a principle of virtue or justice, but that he declined engaging in the
iniquitous scheme from an apprehension that their design was to draw him into a
snare.
Dodwell had lived five months in Mr. Cooke's house, and, though she paid no
rent, he was too generous to turn her out, or in any manner to oppress her. Wild
prosecuted Dodwell and Wright for a misdemeanour, and, being found guilty, they
were sentenced each to six months' imprisonment.
Wild 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, had declined 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 for subjecting
him to the power of justice.
Being informed that he lodged at a public house in Bishopsgate Street, Wild
went to the house 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 exceedingly
disappointed and mortified to find that the man of whom he was in pursuit had
escaped. In the mean time 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, he 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 requested to search the
house, and the dyer readily complied. Wild asked the women if they knew whether a
man had taken shelter in the house, which they denied; but, 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; on which the dyer said that could not
be the case; that if he had entered, he must still be in the house, for he had not quitted
the shop, and it was impossible that a man could pass to the street without his
knowledge; advising Wild to search the cellar again. They now all 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. Wild asked him in what manner he had disposed
of the goods he stole from Newington Green, upbraided him as being guilty of
ingratitude, and declared that he should certainly be hanged.
Butler discovered under a tub by Jonathan Wild
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 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.
Being at an inn in Smithfield, Wild observed a large trunk in the yard, and,
imagining that it contained property of value, he hastened home, and instructed one of
the thieves he employed to carry it off. The man he used in this matter was named
Jeremiah Rann, and he was reckoned one of the most dexterous thieves in London.
Having dressed himself so as exactly to resemble a porter, he carried away the trunk
without being observed.
Mr. Jarvis, a whipmaker by trade, and the proprietor of the trunk, had no
sooner discovered his loss than he applied to Wild, who returned him the goods, in
consideration of receiving ten guineas. Some time after, a disagreement taking place
between Jonathan and Rann, the former apprehended the latter, who was tried and
condemned to die. The day preceding that on which Rann was executed he sent for
Mr. Jarvis, and related to him all the particulars of the trunk. Wild was threatened
with a prosecution by Mr. Jarvis; but all apprehensions arising hence were soon
dissipated by the decease of that gentleman.
Wild, being much embarrassed in endeavouring to find out some method by
which he might safely dispose of the property that was not claimed by the respective
proprietors, revolved in his mind a variety of schemes; but at length he adopted that
which follows: he purchased a sloop, in order to transport the goods to Holland and
Flanders, and gave the command of the vessel to a notorious thief, named Roger
Johnson.
Ostend was the port where this vessel principally traded but, when the goods
were not disposed of there, Johnson navigated her to Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, and
other places. He brought home lace, wine, brandy, etc., and these commodities were
landed in the night, without making any increase to the business of the revenue
officers. This trade was continued about two years, when, five pieces of lace being
lost, Johnson deducted the value of them from the mate's pay. Violently irritated by
this conduct, the mate lodged an information against Johnson for running a great
quantity of various kinds of goods.
In consequence of this the vessel was exchequered, Johnson cast in damages to
the amount of 700L. and the commercial proceedings were entirely ruined.
A disagreement had for some time subsisted between Johnson and Thomas
Edwards, who kept a house of resort for thieves in Long Lane, concerning the division
of some booty. Meeting one day in the Strand, they charged each other with felony,
and were both taken into custody. Wild bailed Johnson, and Edwards was not
prosecuted. The latter had no sooner recovered his liberty than he gave information
against Wild, whose private warehouses being searched, a great quantity of stolen
goods were there found. Wild now arrested Edwards in the name of Johnson, to whom
he pretended the goods belonged, and he was taken to the Marshalsea, but the next
day procured bail. Edwards determined to wreak his revenge upon Johnson, and for
some time industriously sought him in vain; but, meeting him accidentally in
Whitechapel Road, he gave him into the custody of a peace-officer, who conducted
him to an adjacent alehouse. Johnson sent for Wild, who immediately attended,
accompanied by his man, Quilt Arnold. Wild promoted a riot, during which Johnson
availed himself of an opportunity of effecting an escape.
Information being made against Wild for the rescue of Johnson, he judged it
prudent to abscond, and he remained concealed for three weeks; at the end of which
time, supposing all danger to be over, he returned to his house. Being apprised of this,
Mr. Jones, high-constable of Holborn division, went to Jonathan's house in the Old
Bailey, 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 sessions. On the following Friday a
warrant of detainer was produced against him in Court, and to it was affixed the
following articles of information:
I. That for many years he had been a confederate with great numbers of
highwaymen, pickpockets, 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.
M. 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 birthdays, 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 more than half the value.
XI. And, lastly, it appears that he has often sold human blood, by procuring
false evidence to swear persons into facts they were not guilty of; sometimes to
prevent them from being evidences against himself, and at other times for the sake of
the great reward 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 above affidavit were John Follard and Thomas Butler, who had been
convicted; but, it being deemed expedient to grant them a pardon on condition of their
appearing in support of a prosecution against Wild, they pleaded to the same, and
were remanded to Newgate till the next sessions.
Saturday, the 12th of April, Wild, by counsel, moved that his trial might be
postponed till the ensuing sessions; and an affidavit made by the prisoner was read in
Court, purporting that till the preceding evening he was entirely ignorant of a bill
having been found against him that he knew not what offence he was charged with,
and was unable to procure two material witnesses, one of them living near Brentford,
and the other in Somersetshire. This was opposed by the counsel for the crown, who
urged that it would be improper to defer the trial on so frivolous a pretext as that made
by the prisoner; that the affidavit expressed an ignorance of what offence he was
charged w1th, and yet declared that two nameless persons were material witnesses.
The prisoner informed the Court that his witnesses were Hays, at the Pack
Horse, on Turnham Green, and Wilson, a clothier, at Frome; adding that he had heard
it slightly intimated that he was indicted for a felony upon a person named Stretham.
Wild's counsel moved that the names of Hays and Wilson might be inserted in the
affidavit, and that it should be again sworn to by the prisoner. The counsel for the
prosecution observed that justice would not be denied the prisoner, though it could not
be reasonably expected that he would be allowed any extraordinary favours or
indulgences. Follard and Butler were, at length, bound each in the penalty of 500L. to
appear at the ensuing sessions, when it was agreed that Wild's fate should be
determined.
Saturday, May 15, 1725, Jonathan Wild was indicted 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 22nd of January, 1724-5. He was a
second time indicted for feloniously receiving from the said Catherine, on the 10th of
March, ten guineas, on account, and under pretence, of restoring the said lace, without
apprehending and prosecuting the felon who stole the property.
Previous to his trial Wild distributed among the jurymen, and other persons
who were walking on the leads before the Court, a great number of printed papers,
under the title of 'A List of Persons discovered, apprehended, and convicted of several
Robberies on the Highway; and also for Burglary and Housebreaking; and also for
returning from Transportation: by Jonathan Wild.' This list contained the names of
thirty-five for robbing on the highway, twenty-two for housebreaking, and ten for
returning from transportation. To the list was annexed the following Nota Bene:—
'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 shop-lifting,
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. Henry Kelly 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 he
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.
Catherine Stretham, the elder, deposed that, between three and four in the
afternoon of the 22d 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 50L.
The prisoner's counsel observed that it was their opinion 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 when the fact was committed. They allowed that he might be liable to
conviction as an accessory before the fact, or guilty of 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 presided when Wild was tried, and, in summing up the
evidence, his lordship observed that the guilt of the prisoner was a point beyond all
dispute; but that, as a similar case was not to he 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, recommended the prisoner to the mercy of the jury,
who brought in their verdict Not Guilty.
Wild was indicted a second time for 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 4th year of Geo. I. 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 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 time 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.'
Catherine Stretham deposed to the following effect: A box of lace being stolen
out of my shop on the 22d of January, I went in the evening of the same day to the
prisoner's house, in order to employ him in recovering my goods; but, not finding him
at home, I advertised them, offering a reward of fifteen guineas, and saying no
questions should be asked. The advertisement proved ineffectual. I therefore went
again to the prisoner's house, and by his desire gave the best description that I was
able of the persons I suspected to be the robbers; and, promising to make inquiry after
my property, he desired me to call again in two or three days. I attended him a second
time, when he informed me that he had learnt something concerning my goods, and
expected more particular information in a short time. During this conversation we
were joined by a man who said he had reason to suspect that one Kelly, who had been
tried for circulating plated shillings, was concerned in stealing the lace. I went to the
prisoner again on the day he was apprehended, and informed him that, though I had
advertised a reward of no more than fifteen, I would give twenty or twenty-five
guineas, rather than not recover my property; upon which he desired me not to be in
too great a hurry, and said the people who had the lace were gone out of town, but that
he would contrive to foment a disagreement between them, by which means he should
be enabled to recover the goods on more easy terms. He sent me word, on the 10th of
March, that if I would attend him in Newgate, and bring ten guineas with me, the
goods should be returned. I went to the prisoner, who desired a person to call a porter,
and then gave me a letter, saying it was the direction he had received where to apply
for the lace. I told him I could not read, and gave the letter to the man he had sent for,
who appeared to be a ticket-porter. The prisoner then told me I must give the porter
ten guineas, that he might pay the people who had my goods, otherwise they would
not return them. I gave the money, and the man went out of the prison; but in a short
time he returned with a box sealed up, though it was not the box I lost. I opened it,
and found all my lace, excepting one piece. I asked the prisoner what satisfaction be
expected; and 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 he 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 herself, 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 recapitulated the arguments enforced on each side, and 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 executed at Tyburn on Monday, the 24th of May, 1725, along with Robert
Harpham.
Wild, when he was under sentence of death, frequently declared that he
thought the service 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 ease as being desperate, he should have
taken timely measures for inducing some powerful friend 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. It was
observed to him that he had trained up a great number of thieves, and must he
conscious that he had not enforced the execution of the law from any principle of
virtue, but had sacrificed the lives of a great number of his accomplices, in order to
provide for his own safety, and to gratify his desire of revenge against such as had
incurred his displeasure.
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 he
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 self-murder could be
deemed a crime, since many of the Greeks and Romans, who had put a period to their
own lives, were so honourably mentioned by historians. He was informed that the
most wise and learned heathens accounted those guilty of the greatest cowardice who
had not fortitude sufficient to maintain themselves in the station to which they had
been appointed by the providence of Heaven; and that the Christian doctrines
condemned the practice of suicide in the most express terms.
He pretended to be convinced that self-murder was a most impious crime; but
about two in the morning he endeavoured to put an end to his life by drinking
laudanum: however, 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.
On his way to the place of execution the populace treated this offender with
remarkable severity, incessantly pelting him with stones, dirt, &c. and execrating him
as the most consummate villain that had ever disgraced human nature.
Upon his arrival at Tyburn he appeared to be much recovered from the effects
of the laudanum; 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. Tie 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 prudent to
confine him while his father was conveyed to Tyburn, lest he should create a tumult,
and prove the cause of mischief among the populace. Soon after the death of his father
he accepted a sum of money to become a servant in one of our plantations.
Besides the woman to whom he was married at Wolverhampton, five others
lived with him under the pretended sanction of matrimony: the first was Mary
Milliner; the second Judith Nun, by whom he had a daughter; the third Sarah Grigson,
alias Perrin; the fourth Elizabeth Man, who cohabited with him above five years; the
fifth, whose real name is uncertain, married some time after the death of Wild.
History can scarcely furnish an instance of such complicated villainy as was
shown in the character of Jonathan Wild, who possessed abilities which, had they
been properly cultivated, and directed into a right course, would have rendered him a
respectable and useful member of society; but it is to be lamented that the profligate
turn of mind which distinguished both in the early part of his life disposed him to
adopt the maxims of the abandoned people with whom he became acquainted.
During his apprenticeship Wild was observed to be fond of reading; but, as his
finances would not admit of his buying books, his studies were confined to such as
casually fell in his way; and they unfortunately happened to contain those abominable
doctrines to which thousands have owed the ruin of both their bodies and souls. In
short, at an early period of life he imbibed the principles of deism and atheism; and
the sentiments he thus early contracted he strictly adhered to nearly till the period of
his dissolution.
Voluminous writings were formerly beyond the purchase of persons in the
inferior classes of life; but the great encouragement that has of late years been given
to the publication of weekly numbers has so liberally diffused the streams of
knowledge, that but few even of the lower ranks of society can be sensible of any
impediment to the gratification of the desire of literary acquirements.
Wild trained up and instructed his dependants in the practice of roguery; and,
when they became the objects of his displeasure, he laboured with unremitting
assiduity to procure their deaths. Thus his temporal and private interest sought
gratification at the expense of every religious and moral obligation. We must conceive
it to be impossible for a man acknowledging the existence of an Almighty Being to
expect his favour, while devising the means of corrupting his fellow-creatures, and
cutting them off even in the blossom of their sins: but the atheist, having nothing after
this world either to hope or fear, is only careful to secure himself from detection; and
the success of one iniquitous scheme naturally induces him to engage in others, and
the latter actions are generally attended with circumstances of more aggravated guilt
than the former.
There is a principle implanted in our nature, which will exert itself when we
are approaching to a state of dissolution, and impress our minds with a full confidence
in the existence of an eternal God, who will reward or punish us according to our
deserts or demerits. Thus it happened to the miserable subject of these pages, who,
when he had relinquished the hope of surviving the sentence of the law, anxiously
inquired into the meaning of several texts of scripture, and concerning the
intermediate state of the soul.
The horrors of his guilt rushed upon his conscience with such force that
reflection became intolerable; and, instead of repenting of his enormous crimes, he
employed the last of his moments that were enlightened by reason (the distinguished
characteristic of humanity) in meditating the means of self-destruction.
EDWARD BURNWORTH, WILLIAM BLEWITT,
EMANUEL DICKENSON, THOMAS BERRY, JOHN
LEGEE, JOHN HIGGS, and —— MARJORAM
Another gang of murderers and daring robbers.
NOTWITHSTANDING Jonathan Wild, in the early career of his villainy, had
been active in bringing a number of thieves to condign punishment, yet London and
its environs were never more infested with common depredators, than about this time.
Burnworth and his gang seem to have risen to notoriety on the downfall of
Wild; for about the time of his apprehension, they were committing the most daring
robberies; but they, however, did not survive him quite a single year. The captain of
this gang was born in Moorfields, London. His father was a painter, and placed his
son Edward apprentice to a buckle-maker in Grub-street; in which situation he did not
remain long, having given himself up to the company of loose and disorderly young
men. His initiation into vicious habits took place, at an infamous place of low
diversion, called the Ring, near his father's place of residence, and where it appears he
excelled in the vulgar art of cudgel-playing. He soon commenced pick-pocket, and
through the gradations in villainy, which we have already described, became a general
thief. As a pick-pocket, he frequented every public place in and near the city. He used
to steal snuff-boxes, watches, handkerchiefs, pocket-books, &c. At length he was
apprehended, and lodged in New Prison, from which he found means to escape, and
renewed his former occupation, but with more circumspection, usually lounging about
the fields near London during the day time, and returning to town at night in search of
prey. He was a remarkably daring villain, and constantly carried pistols about hint, to
aid him to make a readier escape in case of detection. Going into a public house in the
Old Bailey, the landlord told him that Quilt Arnold, one of Jonathan Wild's men, who
had been seeking him some days, was then in the house. Hereupon Burnworth went
backwards to a room where Arnold was sitting alone; and presenting a pistol,
upbraided him for endeavouring to injure his old acquaintance, Arnold having been a
brother thief. Burnworth then called for a glass of brandy, and putting some
gunpowder in it, compelled the other to drink it on his knees, and swear that he would
never seek for him in future. He was once whipped at the cart's tail for a theft.
William Blewitt, another of this gang, was the son of poor parents near
Cripplegate, who apprenticed him to a glover; but before he had served above three
years of his time, he associated with ill company, and became a pickpocket and
house-breaker. Having been apprehended and lodged in Newgate, he was tried for an
offence, of which he was convicted, and sentenced to be transported for seven years;
in consequence of which he was put on board a ship in the river, in company, with
several other felons. Some of these had procured saws and files to be concealed in
cakes of gingerbread, and by means of these instruments they hoped to effect their
escape before the ship sailed to any distance. Blewitt having discovered their
intention, disclosed it to the captain of the vessel, who seized the implements, and
gave Blewitt his liberty, as a reward-for the information. [Note: This was assuming a
power which was never given to any captain of any vessel]. But he was no sooner at
large, than he returned to his old practices, in consequence of which he was
apprehended, and committed to Newgate. At the following sessions he was indicted
for returning from transportation, and being convicted, received sentence of death; but
he pleaded the service he had done by preventing the escape of the prisoners in the
river: on which he was reprieved till the return of the vessel from America; when his
allegations being found to be true, he was pardoned, on the condition of transporting
himself. This however he neglected to do; but got into the company of Burnworth,
Berry, Legee, and Higgs, the three last having been thieves from their infancy.
At this time there was a gin-shop kept in the Mint, Southwark, by a man
named Ball, whose character was similar to that of Jonathan Wild. Ball, who had been
himself a thief, threatened that he would cause Burnworth to be taken into custody.
The latter, hearing of this circumstance, resolved on the murder of Ball and engaged
his accomplices in the execution of the plan. Previous to this, while they were
drinking at Islington, Burnworth proposed to break open and rob the house of a
magistrate in Clerkenwell, who had distinguished himself by his diligence in causing
thieves to be apprehended; and this robbery was proposed more from motives of
revenge than of gain. They soon executed their design, and robbed the house of what
they thought a large quantity of plate, which they carried to Copenhagen-house, at that
time a public-house of ill fame; but, on examining the supposed treasure, they
discovered that it was only brass covered with silver, on which they threw it into the
New River.
The following day, while they were carousing, one of their associates came
and informed them that some peace officers were waiting for them in Chick-lane, a
place they greatly frequented. Thus informed, they kept in a body, and concealed their
pistols and cutlasses under their clothes. On the approach of evening they ventured
towards London, and having got as far as Turnmill-street, the keeper of Clerkenwell
Bridewell happening to see them, called to Burnworth, and said he wanted to speak
with him. Burnworth hesitated; but the other assuring him that he intended no injury,
and the thief being confident that his associates would not desert him, swore he did
not regard the keeper, whom he advanced to meet with the pistol in his hand, the other
rogues waiting on the opposite side of the street, armed with cutlasses and pistols.
This singular spectacle attracting the attention of the populace, a considerable crowd
soon gathered round them, on which Burnworth joined his companions, who kept
together, and facing the people retired in a body, presenting their pistols, and swearing
that they would fire on any one who should offer to molest them. Thus they retreated
as far as Battle-bridge, and then making a circle round the fields, entered London by a
different avenue, and going to Blackfriars, took a boat and crossed the Thames.
Having landed at the Bankside, Southwark, they went to a place called the Music-
house, which was at that time much frequented by people of dissolute characters. Here
they continued drinking some time, and then went into St. George's-fields, where
Burnworth re-proposed the murder of Ball, on account of the threat that he had issued.
All the company readily agreed, except Higgs, who said he would have no concern in
murder; however, the others forced him with them. It was dark when they arrived at
Ball's house, and Higgs waited at the door, while the rest went in. Ball's wife told
them he was at an alehouse in the neighbourhood, but she would go and call him,
which she accordingly did; he no sooner got to the door of his own house, than
Burnworth seized him and dragged him in, reproaching him with treachery, in
intending to betray his old acquaintance. As these desperadoes were armed with
pistols, Ball trembled with just apprehension for his life, and dropping on his knees,
earnestly entreated that they would not murder him; but Burnworth, swearing that he
should never obtain the reward for betraying him, shot him dead on the spot, while
thus begging for his life. The murder was no sooner perpetrated, than they all sallied
forth into the street; when Blewitt, supposing that the report of the pistol might alarm
the neighbours, fired another into the air, saying, "We are now safe in town, and there
is no fear of rogues;" thereby intimating that they had come out of the country,
whither they had taken pistols for their protection. Higgs had left his companions as
soon as the murder was committed; but on their way to the Falcon Stairs, where they
intended to take a boat, they met with him again, when Burnworth proposed to murder
him, as they had done Ball; but Marjoram, an old acquaintance, whom they had just
met, interceded for his life, which was granted, on condition that, for the future, he
should behave with greater courage. They now crossed the Thames, and went to the
Boar's-head tavern, in Smithfield, where, not being known, they were under no
apprehension of detection. Here they remained till ten at night, and then parted in
different gangs, to commit separate robberies.
Some days after this, Dickenson, Berry, and Blewitt, having obtained a large
booty, went to Harwich, and sailed in the packet-boat to Holland. In the mean time,
Higgs went to Portsmouth, and entered on board the Monmouth man of war; but his
brother happening to meet the mate of a ship in London, gave him a letter to deliver to
him. The mate going accidentally into a public-house in Smithfield, heard the name of
Higgs mentioned by some people who were talking of the murder, among whom was
a watchman, whom the mate told that he had a letter to carry to one Higgs. On this the
watchman went to the under secretary of state, and mentioned what he had heard and
suspected. Hereupon the watchman, and two of the king's messengers, being
dispatched to Portsmouth, Higgs was taken into custody, brought to London, and
committed to Newgate. Still Burnworth, and the rest of his associates, continued to
defy the laws, in the most open manner. Having stopped the Earl of Harborough's
chair, during broad daylight, in Piccadilly, one of the chairmen pulled out a pole of
the chair, and knocked down one of the villains, while the Earl came out, drew his
sword, and put the rest to flight: but not before they had raised their wounded
companion, whom they took off with them.
The number of daring robberies which were now daily committed were so
alarming, that the king issued a proclamation for apprehending the offenders, and a
pardon was offered to any one who would impeach his accomplices, except
Burnworth, who was justly considered as the principal of the gang. Marjoram
happened to be drinking at a public house in Whitecross-street one night, when a
gentleman went in and read the royal proclamation. The company present knew
nothing of Marjoram; but he apprehending that some of his accomplices would
become an evidence, if he did not, applied to a constable in Smithfield, and desired
him to take him before the Lord Mayor. By this time the evening was far advanced,
on which Marjoram was lodged in the Compter for that night, and being taken to
Guildhall the next day, he discovered all the circumstances that he knew; and
informing the Lord Mayor that Legge lodged in Whitecross-street, he was almost
immediately apprehended, and committed to Newgate the same day. The
circumstance of Marjoram having turned evidence being now the public topic, John
Barton, a fellow who had been sometime connected with Burnworth and, his gang,
provided a loaded pistol, and placing himself near Goldsmith's-hall, took an
opportunity, when the officers were conducting Marjoram before the Lord Mayor, to
fire at him; but Marjoram observing him advancing, stooped down, so that the ball
grazed his back only. The suddenness of this action, and the surprise it occasioned;
gave Barton an opportunity of effecting his escape. About this time one Wilson, who
had likewise belonged to the gang, quitted London, but being apprehended about two
years afterwards, he was hanged at Kingston in Surrey.
In the mean time, Burnworth continued at large, committing depredations on
the public, and appearing openly in the streets, notwithstanding the proclamation
issued to apprehend him. He broke open the house of a distiller in Clare-market, and
carried off a great number of banknotes; in consequence of which another
proclamation was issued, and three hundred pounds were offered for taking him into
custody; notwithstanding he still appeared at large, and gave the following among
other proofs of his audacity. Sitting down at the door of a public-house, in Holborn,
where he was well known, he called for a pint of beer and drank it, holding a pistol in
his hand, by way of protection; he then paid for his beer, and went off with the
greatest apparent unconcern. At this time he kept company with two infamous
women, one of whom was the wife of a man named Leonard; who, having belonged
to the gang, thought to recommend himself to mercy, by the apprehension of
Burnworth. Having told his wife what he intended, she informed same magistrates of
the proposed plan, and they sent six men to assist in carrying it into execution. Shrove
Tuesday being the day appointed, the men waited at a public-house till they should
receive a hint to proceed.. About six in the evening Burnworth went to the lodgings of
the women, to which there was a back door that opened into a yard. It was proposed to
have pancakes for supper, and while one of the women was frying them, the other
went to the public house for some beer, and on her return pretended to bolt the door,
but designedly missed the staple; at that moment six men rushed in, and seized
Burnworth before he had time to make any resistance, though he had a pistol in the
pocket of his great coat. Being carried before three magistrates he was committed to
Newgate; but his accomplices were so infamously daring as to attempt the murder of
the woman who had occasioned his apprehension; a pistol was fired at her as she was
entering the door of her own house, which being communicated to the magistrates,
constables were appointed to watch nightly for her protection, till the desperadoes
gave over their attempts.
Burnworth, while in Newgate, projected the following scheme of escape:
having been furnished with an iron crow, he engaged some of the prisoners, who
assisted him in pulling stones out of the wall, while others sung psalms, that the
keepers might not hear what they wore doing. On the day following this transaction,
which was carried on during the night, five condemned criminals were to be executed;
but when the gaolers came to take them out, there was such an immense quantity of
stones and rubbish to remove, that it was two o'clock in the afternoon before the
criminals could be got out of their cells. This scheme of Burnworth occasioned his
closer confinement. He was removed into a room known by the name of the bilboes,
and loaded with a pair of the heaviest irons in the prison: but he intended to have
made his escape even from this place; and being furnished with files and saws from
some of his acquaintance, he worked his way through a wall into a room in which
were some women prisoners, one of whom .acquainting the keeper with what had
happened, Burnworth was chained to the floor of the condemned hold. Application
was made to the secretary of state, to take measures for the apprehension of Berry,
Dickenson, and Blewitt, who had gone over to Holland; and here upon instructions
were sent to the English Ambassador at the Hague, empowering him to request of the
States General, that the offenders might be delivered up to justice, if found any where
within their jurisdiction. The ambassador, on receiving the necessary instructions,
made the application, and orders were issued accordingly; in consequence of which
Blewitt was apprehended in Rotterdam, but Dickenson and Berry had taken refuge on
board a ship at the Brill. Blewitt was lodged in the state-house prison, and then the
officers who took him went immediately on board the ship, and seized his two
accomplices, whom they brought to the same place of confinement. They were
chained to the floor till the English ambassador requested permission to send them
home, which being readily obtained, they were guarded to the packet-boat by a party
of soldiers, and were chained together as soon as they were put on board. When they
reached the Nore, they were met by two of the king's messengers, who conducted
them up the river. On the arrival of the vessel, they were put into a boat opposite the
Tower, which was guarded by three other boats, in each of which was a corporal and
several soldiers. In this manner they were conducted to Westminster, where they were
examined by two magistrates, who committed them to Newgate, to which they were
escorted by a party of the foot-guards. On sight of Burnworth, they seemed to pity his
situation, while he in a hardened manner, expressed his happiness at their safe arrival
from Holland. On the approach of the ensuing assizes for the county of Surrey, they
were handcuffed, put into a waggon, and in this manner a party of dragoons
conducted them to Kingston. Their insolence on leaving Newgate was unparalleled —
they told the spectators that it would become them to treat gentlemen of their
profession with respect, especially as they were going a journey; and likewise said to
the dragoons, that they expected to be protected from injury on the road; and during
their journey they behaved with great indifference, throwing money among the
populace, and diverting themselves by seeing them scramble for it. A boy having
picked up a halfpenny, one of a handful which Blewitt had thrown among the people,
told him that he would keep that halfpenny, and have his name engraved on it, as sure
as he would be hanged at Kingston, on which Blewitt gave him a shilling to pay the
expense of engraving, and enjoined him to keep his promise, which it is affirmed, the
boy actually did.
On their arrival at Kingston, they were put in the prison called the Stockhouse,
where they were chained to the floor; and on the following day, bills of indictment
were found against them, they were brought up for trial before Lord Chief Justice
Raymond, and Judge Denton, but, some articles having been taken from Burnworth
when he was apprehended, he refused to plead, unless they were restored to him. The
judges made use of every argument to prevail on him to plead, but in vain; in
consequence of which sentence was passed that he should be pressed to death.
Hereupon he was taken back to the Stockhouse, where he bore the weight of one
hundred, three quarters, and two pounds, on his breast. The high-sheriff who attended
him on this occasion, used every argument to prevail on him to plead, to which he
consented, after bearing the weight an hour and three minutes, during great part of
which time he endeavoured to kill himself, by striking his head against the floor.
Being brought into court, he was tried, and convicted with his companions, They were
no sooner convicted, than orders were given for their being chained to the floor; but in
this deplorable situation they diverted themselves, by recounting some particulars of
their robberies, to such persons whose curiosity induced them to visit the gaol. Some
people wished, they would leave an account of their robberies, but Burnworth said the
particulars could not be contained in an hundred sheets of paper. On passing sentence
the learned judge most earnestly entreated them to prepare for another world, as their
time in the present must necessarily be short. They begged that their friends might
visit them; and this being complied with, files and saws were conveyed to them, to
assist them in their escape. Their plan was to have mixed opium in wine, to have
made the keepers sleep; and if this had taken place, they then proposed to have set fire
to some piles of wood near the prison, and in other parts of the town, and to get a
considerable distance during the conflagration; but the keepers having listened to their
discourse, they were more strictly guarded than before, and their whole scheme
rendered abortive. A short time before their execution Burnworth told one of the
keepers, that, "If he did not see him buried in a decent manner, he would meet him
after death in a dark entry, and pull off his nose."
When the day of execution arrived, the prisoners were put into a cart, and a
company of foot soldiers escorted them to the fatal tree. On their way Blewitt saw a
gentleman named Warwick, and having obtained permission to speak to him, most
earnestly entreated his pardon for having attempted to shoot him, in consequence of
an information which Mr. Warwick had given against him. Dickenson and Blewitt
appeared more penitent than any of the rest. They wept bitterly at the place of
execution, and said, they hoped their untimely fate would teach young men to avoid
such courses as had brought them to their fatal end. They suffered April 12, 1726.
After execution, their bodies were brought to the new gaol in Southwark, to be fitted
with chains. The bodies of Burnworth and Blewitt, were suspended on a gibbet in St.
George's Fields, near where the murder was perpetrated. Legee and Higgs were
hanged on Putney Common, and Berry and Dickenson on Kennington Common; but
representation being made to the people in power, that Dickenson's father, when a
lieutenant in the army, had died fighting for his country in Flanders, permission was
given to his friends to take down and bury the body, after he had hung one day.
Marjoram, the evidence, obtained his liberty, of course, when his accomplices were
convicted: but in a few days afterwards he cut the string of a butcher's apron, and ran
away with his steel. Being pursued, he was apprehended, committed, and being
indicted for privately stealing, was convicted, and received sentence of death; but in
consideration of his having been the means of bringing the above-mentioned atrocious
offenders to justice, the sentence of death was changed to that of transportation.
CATHERINE HAYES
Who with Others foully murdered her Husband, and was burned alive on 9th
of May, 1726
Hayes, Wood and Billings murdering Mr. Hayes
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 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 sixty pounds, and now gave him property to the value of about twenty-six
pounds 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
anyone 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 acquaintances 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 connection, 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 fifteen hundred pounds, 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's hand gave
the poor man two more blows, which effectually dispatched 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 downstairs 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.
had 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 were found whole it would be more likely to be known, and on
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 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 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 greatcoat, being accompanied by Wood; but making a noise
in going downstairs, 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 throw 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
be carried away by the stream; but at this time the tide was ebbing, and a lighter-man,
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 purchased, but being found too small, the body was dismembered so as to
admit of its being enclosed 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's, Westminster, that an opportunity might be afforded of its
being viewed by the public.
The head of Mr. Hayes displayed in the churchyard of St Margaret's
[Note: 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 a 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 bad laid his hand upon his breast the blood
gushed forth in abundance, out of both 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. ]
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 only
gone out of town for a few days, When the head had been exhibited for 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 had 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's 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 upstairs 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 Gatehouse, 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's 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, 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 everyone 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. He 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. 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. When the wretched woman had finished her
devotions, in pursuance of her sentence an iron chain was put round her body, with
which she was fixed to a stake near the gallows. On these 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 until three hours
later. These malefactors suffered at Tyburn, 9th of May, 1726.
[Note: 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 burned
even without previous strangulation. It was high time this part of the sentence, a type
of barbarism, should be dispensed with. The punishment now inflicted for this most
unnatural and abhorred crime is hanging.]
RICHARD SAVAGE, ESQ. (THE CELEBRATED POET,
SON OF THE EARL OF RIVERS AND THE UNNATURAL
COUNTESS OF MACCLESFIELD), JAMES GREGORY,
ESQ., AND WILLIAM MERCHANT, ESQ.
Murderers who escaped Death
RICHARD SAVAGE — a name the mention of which cannot fail to excite in
every feeling mind the deepest emotions of pity, and whose almost unparalleled
persecution, by an abandoned mother, tends to efface all recollection even of his many
frailties — was born in 1698, having been the son of Anne, Countess of Macclesfield,
by Captain Savage, afterwards Earl of Rivers. He might have been considered the
lawful issue of Lord Macclesfield; but his mother, in order to procure a separation
from her husband, made a public confession of adultery in this instance. As soon as
her spurious offspring was brought to light, the countess treated him with every kind
of unnatural cruelty. She committed him to the care of a poor woman to educate as her
own, and prevented the Earl of Rivers from making him a be quest of L.6000 by
declaring he was already dead. She endeavoured to send him secretly to the American
plantations; and at last, to bury him in obscurity and indigence for ever, placed him as
an apprentice to a shoemaker in Holborn. About this period his nurse died; and, in
searching her effects, Savage found some letters which unravelled the mystery of his
origin. He therefore left his low occupation, and tried every method, but without avail,
to awaken the tenderness and attract the regard of his mother. Being thus thrown upon
the world without the aid of any fostering hand, he availed himself of the portion of
learning he had acquired at the grammar school of St. Albans, and commenced author.
Savage's early productions do not seem to have afforded him either fame or
profit; but in 1723 he produced a tragedy, in which himself performed a principal
character, entitled "Sir Thomas Overbury"; during his employment upon which he is
said to have been without a lodging, and often without food; possessing no other
conveniences for study than the fields or the street; and, when he had composed a
speech, stepping into a shop, and begging the use of pen, ink, and paper. The profits
of this play appear to have amounted to L.200; and the world was beginning to regard
this victim of maternal heartlessness with a more favourable eye, when the accident
occurred which put not only his reputation but his life itself into jeopardy, and brought
the name of Richard Savage within the gloomy boundaries of our criminal
chronology.
We have before adverted to the frailties of the subject of this memoir. He was
proud, vain, and dissipated; and the narrative we are about to give will show that he
was destitute of that command over his passions which should be indicated in the
conduct of every wise and virtuous man. But let the humane reader pause before he
passes too severe a judgment upon poor Savage; and suffer the remembrance of his
forlorn condition and unheard-of wrongs to cover, at least to a certain extent, "a
multitude of sins."
In the month of December, 1727, this gentleman, together with James Gregory
and William Merchant, was indicted at the Old Bailey, for the murder of James
Sinclair: — Savage by giving him a mortal wound with a drawn sword in the lower
part of the belly; and Gregory and Merchant by aiding and abetting in the commission
of the said murder.
It appeared in evidence that these three gentlemen had accidentally come, at a
late hour, much disguised in liquor, to Robinson's coffee-house at Charing Cross, and
went into a room where Mr. Sinclair and other company were drinking. Merchant,
entering first, kicked down the table; and Savage and Gregory drawing their swords,
they were earnestly desired to put them up, but refused to do so.
A scuffle ensued, in which Mr. Sinclair received a mortal wound, and was
heard to say "I am a dead man": soon after which the candles were extinguished.
Another witness deposed that, as he and some other company were on the
point of leaving the house, the prisoners came in, when Merchant kicked down the
table, and Gregory, going up to the deceased, said, "Damn ye, you rascal, deliver your
sword"; on which weapons were drawn, and the deceased wounded, as above
mentioned: that the deceased had his sword drawn when the word was given by
Savage; but that he held it with the point down towards the ground; but neither this
deponent nor the former observed that Merchant had any sword.
There were several other witnesses to prove the fact; but it may be now proper
to mention how it happened that the parties accused came to the house where it
occurred. Mr. Savage had at the time a lodging at Richmond, and another at London;
and having come to town to pay off the latter, and casually meeting with Gregory and
Merchant, with whom he had been acquainted for some time past, they went to a
coffee-house, where they drank till late in the evening. Savage would have engaged a
bed at this place; but there not being accommodations for him, he and his friends went
into the street, proposing to spend the night as they could, and in the morning to walk
to Richmond. Strolling about, they saw a light in Robinson's coffee-house, into which
they entered, and the fatal consequence ensued which we have already recited.
The perpetrators of this rash action having left the house, some soldiers were
sent for, by whom they were taken into custody, and lodged in the round-house; and
in the morning were carried before a magistrate, who committed them to the Gate-
house; but Mr. Sinclair dying on the following day, they were sent to Newgate.
The deceased had been attended by a clergyman, who declared that he said he
was stabbed before he had time to draw his sword; and his testimony was confirmed
by that of other witnesses.
When the evidence was summed up, the Court observed to the jury, that, "As
the deceased and his companions were in possession of the room, if the prisoners were
the aggressors, by coming into that room, kicking down the table, and immediately
thereupon drawing their swords, without provocation, &c. it was murder, not only in
him who gave the wound, but in those who aided and abetted him."
After a trial of eight hours, the jury found Savage and Gregory guilty of
murder, and Merchant guilty of manslaughter: in consequence of which the latter was
burnt in the hand and discharged.
On the 11th of December, 1727, Richard Savage and James Gregory were
brought to the bar, with other capital convicts, to receive sentence of death; and being
asked, in the customary manner, what they had to say why judgment should not be
duly passed, Savage spoke as follows:
"It is now, my lords, too late to offer anything by way of defence or
vindication; not can we expect aught from your lordships in this Court but the
sentence which the law requires you, as judge, to pronounce against men in our
calamitous condition. — But we are also persuaded that as mere men, and out of this
seat of rigorous justice, you are susceptible of the tender passions, and too humane not
to commiserate the unhappy situation of those whom the law sometimes perhaps
exacts from you to pronounce sentence upon.
"No doubt you distinguish between offences which arise out of premeditation
and a disposition habitual to vice or immorality, and transgressions which are the
unhappy and unforeseen effects of a casual absence of reason and sudden impulse of
passion; we, therefore, hope you will contribute all you can to an extension of that
mercy which the gentle men of the jury have been pleased to show Mr. Merchant,
who (allowing facts as sworn against us by the evidence) has led us into this calamity.
"I hope this will not be construed as if we meant to reflect upon that gentleman, or
remove anything from us upon him, or that we repine the more at our fate because he
has no participation of it: no, my lord! for my part, I declare nothing could more
soften my grief than to be without any companion in so great a misfortune."
It will scarcely be believed that, at this critical juncture, the inhuman countess
exerted all her influence to prejudice the queen against her unhappy child, and to
render unavailing every intercession that might be made to procure for him the royal
mercy: at length, however, the Countess of Hertford having laid an account of the
extraordinary story and sufferings of poor Savage before her majesty, a pardon was
obtained for him and his companion, and they were accordingly set at liberty on the
5th of March, 1728.
Our author had now recovered his liberty, but was destitute of all means of
subsistence; and his latter days appear to have been spent, for the most part, in abject
poverty. His distresses do not, however, seem to have overcome him. In his lowest
sphere his pride sustained his spirits, and set him on a level with those of the highest
rank. After enduring numberless privations, and disgusting almost all his friends by
the heedlessness (and we are afraid we must add the ingratitude) of his disposition,
Savage expired at Bristol, where he had been imprisoned for debt, August, 1743, in
his 46th year, and was buried in the churchyard of St. Peter, at the expense of the
gaoler.
MARGARET DIXON
Who was married a Few Days after she was hanged for Murder in 1728
THIS remarkable woman was the daughter of poor parents, who lived at
Musselburgh, about five miles from Edinburgh, and who brought up their child in the
practice of religious duties, having instructed her in such household business as was
likely to suit her future situation in life. The village of Musselburgh was then almost
entirely inhabited by gardeners, fishermen and persons employed in making salt. The
husbands having prepared the several articles for sale, the wives carried them to
Edinburgh, and procured a subsistence by crying them through the streets of that city.
When Margaret Dixon had attained years of maturity she was married to a
fisherman, by whom she had several children. But there being a want of seamen, her
husband was impressed into the naval service; and during his absence from Scotland
his wife had an illicit connection with a man at Musselburgh, in consequence of which
she became pregnant. At this time it was the law in Scotland that a woman known to
have been unchaste should sit in a distinguished place in the church on three Sundays,
to be publicly rebuked by the minister; and many poor infants have been destroyed
because the mother dreaded this public exposure, particularly as many Scottish ladies
went to church to be witnesses of the frailty of a sister who were never seen there on
any other occasion.
The neighbours of Mrs Dixon averred that she was with child; but this she
constantly denied. At length, however, she was delivered of a child; but it is uncertain
whether it was born alive or not. Be this as it may, she was taken into custody, and
lodged in the jail of Edinburgh. When her trial for child-murder came on several
witnesses deposed that she had been frequently pregnant; others proved that there
were signs of her having been delivered, and that a new-born infant had been found
near the place of her residence. A surgeon deposed that, putting the lungs of the infant
in water, they were found to swim, which was deemed a proof that the child had been
born alive. For it was a received opinion that, if no air be ever drawn into the lungs,
they will not swim; but this circumstance is a matter of doubt even among the
gentlemen of the faculty. The jury, giving credit to the evidence against her, brought
in a verdict of guilty; in consequence of which she was doomed to die.
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 even formed an idea of so horrid a crime. She owned that the
far of being exposed to the ridicule of her neighbours in the church has tempted her to
deny that she was pregnant; and she said that, being suddenly seized with the pangs of
childbirth, she was unable o procure the assistance of her neighbours; and that a state
of insensibility ensued, so it was impossible she should know what became of her
infant.
At the place of execution her behaviour was consistent with her former
declaration. She avowed her total innocence of the crime of which she was convicted,
but confessed the sincerest sorrow for all her other sins. After execution her body was
cut down and delivered to her friends, who put it into a coffin and sent it in a cart to
be buried at her native place; but, the weather being sultry, the persons who had the
body in their care stopped to drink at a village called Pepper Mill, 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 immediately sat up, and most of the
spectators ran off, with every sign of trepidation. It happened that a person who was
then drinking in the public-house had recollection enough to bleed her, and in about
an hour she was put to bed; and by the following morning she was so far recovered as
to be able to walk to her own house.
By the Scottish law, which is in part founded on that of the Romans, a person
against whom the judgment of the Court has been executed can suffer no more in
future, but is thenceforward totally exculpated; and it is likewise held that a marriage
is dissolved by the execution of the convicted party — which indeed is consistent with
the ideas that common sense would form on such an occasion.
Mrs Dixon, then, being convicted and executed as above mentioned, the
King's advocate could prosecute her no further; but he filed a bill in the High Court of
Justiciary against the sheriff for omitting to fulfil the law. The husband of this revived
convict married her publicly a few days after she was hanged; and she constantly
denied that she had been guilty of the alleged crime. She was living as late as the year
1753. This singular transaction took place in the year 1728.
EDWARD BELLAMY
A Daring Shop-Robber, who was executed at Tyburn On 27th of March,
1728
THIS malefactor was a native of London, and served his time to a tailor; but
his apprenticeship was no sooner expired than he associated with some women of ill-
fame, and became a thief in order to support their extravagance. His commencement
in the art of theft was with a number of young pickpockets, and he soon became an
adept in the profession. From this business they advanced a step further. They used to
go, three or four in company, to the shops of silversmiths in the evening, and while
one of them cheapened some article of small value, his companions used to secrete
something of greater. It was likewise a practice with them to walk the streets at night,
and, forcing up the windows of shops with a chisel, run off with any property that lay
within their reach.
Having followed this infamous business about three years, he forged (an
offence not then capital) a note, by which he defrauded a linen-draper of money to a
considerable amount. Being taken into custody for this forgery he was lodged in
Newgate, but discharged without being brought to trial, his friends having found
means to accommodate the matter with the injured party.
A short time after he left Newgate he made connections with Jonathan Wild,
who used frequently to borrow money from Mr Wildgoose, who kept an inn in
Smithfield; and Bellamy, wishing to become acquainted with a man whom he thought
he could make subservient to his interest, applied to Jonathan to recommend him to
Wildgoose, but this the famous thief-taker absolutely refused.
Having often gone with messages and notes from Jonathan to Wildgoose, and
being well acquainted with the hand- writing of the former, he forged a draft on the
latter for ten guineas, which Wildgoose paid without hesitation; and as soon as
Bellamy had got the money he omitted to pay his usual visits at Wild's office.
A few days after this transaction Wild went to his acquaintance to borrow
some money, when Wildgoose told him he had paid his draft for the above-mentioned
sum, and producing the note, Jonathan could not be certain that it was not his own
handwriting otherwise than by recollecting that he had never given such a draft.
Wildgoose was unacquainted with Bellamy's name; but by the description of his
person Jonathan soon found who had committed the forgery, on which he ordered his
myrmidons to be careful to apprehend the offender. Bellamy was soon found in a
lodging in Whitefriars, and Jonathan's men sent word to their master that they had him
in custody, and begged he would give orders how they should dispose of him. In the
interim Bellamy, who expected no mercy from the old thief-taker, seized the
advantage of the casual absence of his attendants from the room, fixed a rope to the
bar of the window, and let himself into the street, though the room was three storeys
high.
He now entertained thoughts of accommodating the affair with Wild,
imagining he should be treated with the utmost severity if he should be
reapprehended; but before he had proceeded in this negotiation Wild's men seized him
at a gin-shop in Chancery Lane, and sent to their master for instructions how to act.
To this message Jonathan returned an answer that they might give him his liberty on
condition that he should come to the office and adjust the business with himself.
Thereupon Bellamy was discharged: but, knowing how dangerous it would be
to affront Wild, he went the following morning to a public-house in the Old Bailey,
where he sent for Jonathan to breakfast with him; and, the latter sending for
Wildgoose, Bellamy gave him a note for the money received, and no further steps
were taken in the affair.
As soon as this business was adjusted, Bellamy renewed his former plan of
making depredations on the public, and committed an immense number of robberies
in the City of London. He and one of his gang having broken the sash of a
silversmith's shop in Russel-court, Drury-lane, a person who lay under the counter
fired a blunderbuss at them, which obliged them to decamp without their booty. This
attempt failing, they went to the house of another silversmith, which they broke open,
and finding the servant-maid sitting up for her master, they terrified her into silence,
and carried off effects to a large amount.
Not long after this robbery, they broke open the shop of a grocer near
Shoreditch, in the expectatton at finding cash to a great amount; but the proprietor
having previously secured it, they got only about ten pounds of tea, and the loose
money in the tin.
Their next attempt was at the house of a hosier in Widegate alley, from whose
shop they carried off some goods of value, which they sold to the Jews on the
following day.
From the shop of a silversmith in Bride-lane, they carried off plate to the
amount of fifty pounds; and from the house of a haberdasher in Bishopsgate-street, a
load of various articles, the whole of which they disposed of to the Jews.
On another occasion, they broke open a tea shop near Gray's-Inn-lane; having
removed the shutters, by cutting away part of them with chisels, they were going to
lift up the sash, when a person from within hearing them, cried out thieves! on which
they ran off without their booty.
Having broke into a tea-warehouse near Aldgate, they had packed up a
valuable parcel of goods, when the maid servant came down stairs, undressed, and
without a candle. Having gone into the yard, she returned, without knowing that they
were in the house; but when she came into the shop, Bellamy seized her, and obliged
her to lay on the floor, while they went off with their booty; and the same night they
broke open the shop of a mercer in Bishopsgate-street, whence they carried off goods
to a large amount.
Their next robbery was at the house of a grocer in Thames street. The
watchman passing by as they were packing up their booty, Bellamy seized him and
obliged him to put out his candle, to prevent any alarm being given. Having kept him
till they were ready to go off with their plunder, they took him to the side of the
Thames, and threatened to throw him in, if he would not throw in his lanthorn and
staff. It need not be said that the poor man was obliged to comply with their
injunctions.
Soon after this they stole a large sum of money, and a quantity of goods, from
the house of a grocer which they broke open in Aldersgate-street. A neighbour saw
this robbery from his window, but was too much frightened to take any measures for
the detection of the villains.
Their next exploit was at an old clothes-shop, kept by a woman in Shadwell,
whence they carried off every valuable article; and after this they robbed the shop of a
hosier in Coleman-street, and took away goods to the amount of seventy pounds,
which the thieves divided into shares, and sold them to their old acquaintance the
Jews.
They were disappointed in their next attempt, which was to break open the
house of a linen-draper in Westminster: for some people coming up before they had
completed their operations, they were obliged to decamp with precipitation.
On the evening after this transaction, observing the door of a shop shut in St.
Clement's churchyard, they made it fast with a cord on the outside, and throwing up
the sash, stole a very large number of silk handkerchiefs, while the woman in the shop
made many fruitless attempts to open the door; and they stole a variety of plate,
wearing apparel, and other effects, the same nigh; from two houses in Holborn.
While they were thus rendering themselves the mere pests of society they
became intimate with an old woman who had opened an office near Leicester Fields
for the reception of stolen goods, something on the plan of that of Jonathan Wild. To
this woman Bellamy and his companions used to sell much of their ill-gotten effects;
but she having, on one occasion, given a smaller price than they expected, Bellamy
determined on a plan of revenge; in pursuance of which he went to her office with a
small quantity of stolen plate, and while she was gone with it to a silversmith he
carried off her cash, to a large amount. At length he robbed a shop in Monmouth
Street. But by this time he had rendered himself so conspicuous for his daring
villainies that a reward of one hundred pounds was offered for apprehending him; in
consequence of which he was taken, near the Seven Dials, on the following day, and
committed to Newgate.
For this last fact he was tried, convicted, and received sentence. Form this time
until the arrival of the warrant for his execution, he affected a cheerfulness of
behaviour, and said, that he would be hanged in his shroud. But the certainty that he
should suffer, and the sight of his coffin, excited more serious ideas in his mind; and
he received the sacrament before his death, with evident marks of repentance for the
many crimes of which he had been guilty. He was executed at Tyburn; and just before
he was turned off made a speech to the surrounding multitude, in which he confessed
his numerous offences, and acknowledged the justice of his sentence.
JOHN EVERETT
Highwayman, Turnkey and Ale-House Keeper. Executed at Tyburn, 20th of
February, 1729
John Everett and Richard Bird robbing a Coach
JOHN EVERETT was a native of Hitchin, in Hertfordshire, and had been well
educated, his father possessing three hundred pounds per annum. He was apprenticed
to a salesman, but running away from his master he entered into the army and served
in Flanders, where he behaved so well that he was promoted to the rank of sergeant.
On the return of his regiment to England he purchased his discharge, and repairing to
London bought the place of an officer in Whitechapel Court, in which he continued
about seven years; but having given liberty to some persons whom he had arrested,
one Charlesworth, a solicitor of that court, caused him to be discharged, and then sued
him for the amount of the debts of the parties whom his inconsiderate good nature had
liberated. To evade imprisonment Everett enlisted in Lord Albemarle's company of
Foot Guards. Soon after his re-engaging in the army he fell into company with
Richard Bird, with whom he had been formerly acquainted.
This Bird hinted that great advantages might be acquired in a particular way if
Everett could be trusted, and the latter, anxious to know what the plan was, learned
that it was to go on the road; on which an agreement was immediately concluded.
Thereupon they set out on their expedition, and robbed several stages in the counties
adjacent to London, from which they obtained considerable booty, in jewels, money
and valuable effects. Thus successful in their first exploits they went to Hounslow
Heath, where they stopped two military officers who were attended by servants armed
with blunderbusses; but they obliged them to submit, and robbed them of their money
and watches. The watches were afterwards left, according to agreement, at a coffee-
house near Charing Cross, and the thieves received twenty guineas for restoring them.
Soon after they stopped a gentleman in an open chaise near Epsom. The gentleman
drew his sword and made several passes at them, yet they robbed him of his watch,
two guineas, his sword and some writings; but they returned the writings at the earnest
request of the injured party. They also made a practice of robbing the butchers and
higglers in Epping Forest, on their way to London. One of these robberies was
singular. Meeting with an old woman, a higgler, they searched the lining of a high-
crowned hat, which she said had been her mother's, in which they found about three
pounds, but returned her hat. Soon after this they stopped a coach on Hounslow Heath
in which were two Quakers, who, calling them sons of violence, jumped out of the
coach to oppose them; but their fellow-travellers making no resistance, and begging
them to submit, all the parties were robbed of their money. Everett, remarking that
one of the Quakers wore a remarkably good wig, snatched it from his head and gave
him in return an old black tie, which he had purchased for half-a-crown from a
Chelsea pensioner. This sudden metamorphosis caused great mirth among the other
company in the coach. About ten days after this he and his companion walked to
Hillingdon Common, where, seeing two gentlemen on horseback, Everett stopped the
foremost, and Bird the other, and robbed them of upwards of three guineas and their
gold watches; they then cut the girths of their saddles and secured the bridles, to
prevent pursuit. They now hastened to Brentford, where, understanding that they were
followed, they got into the ferry to cross the Thames; and when they were three parts
over, so that the river was fordable, they gave the ferrymen ten shillings and obliged
them to throw their oars into the river. They then jumped overboard and got on shore,
while the spectators thought it was a drunken frolic, and the robbers got safe to
London.
Some time after this, Everett was convicted of an attempt to commit a robbery
on the highway, for which he was sentenced to three years' imprisonment in New
Prison, Clerkenwell. After some time he was employed to act here as turnkey, and, his
conduct meeting with approbation, he remained in that station after the term of his
imprisonment was expired; but the keeper dying, he took a public-house in Turnmill
Street. He had not been long in this station when the new keeper who had been
appointed frequently called on him and made him advantageous offers, on the
condition of his reassuming the office of turnkey. This he did. But when Everett had
perfectly instructed him in the management of the prison he dismissed him, without
assigning any reason for such ungenerous conduct. Everett being now greatly in debt,
and consequently obliged to remove within the rules of the Fleet Prison, took a public-
house in the Old Bailey. After which he took the Cock ale-house, in the same street,
which he kept three years with reputation, when the Warden of the Fleet persuaded
him to keep the tap-house of the said prison. While in this station he was charged with
being concerned with the keeper in some malpractices, for which the House of
Commons ordered him to be confined in Newgate; but he obtained his liberty at the
end of the sessions, as no bill had been found against him. During his confinement his
brewer seized his stock of beer, to the amount of above three hundred pounds, which
reduced him to circumstances of great distress. He even now resolved on a life of
industry if he could get employment, but his character was such that no person would
engage him.
Thus perplexed, he once more equipped himself for the highway, with a view,
as he solemnly declared after sentence of death, to raise only fifty pounds, as his
brewer would have given him credit if he could have possessed himself of that sum.
Having stopped a coach on the Hampstead road, in which were a lady, her daughter,
and a child about five years old, the child was so terrified at his presenting a pistol,
that he withdrew it at the request of the lady, who gave him a guinea and some silver;
and though he observed she had a watch and some gold rings, &c, he did not demand
them. Some company riding up, he was followed to the end of Leather Lane, where he
evaded the pursuit by turning into Hatton Garden, and going into the Globe tavern.
Here he called for wine, and, while he was drinking, he saw his pursuers pass; on
which he paid his reckoning, and slipped into a public house in Holborn, where he
again saw them pass. Thinking himself safe, he remained here a considerable time.
When he thought the pursuit was over, he called a coach at the end of Brook Street,
and, driving to Honey Lane Market, purchased a duck for his supper, and a turkey for
his Christmas dinner: he then went to his lodging in Newgate Market. On the
following day one Whitaker (called "the boxing drover"), circulated a report that
Everett had committed a highway robbery; on which the latter loaded a brace of
pistols, and vowed he would be revenged. He went to Islington in search of Whitaker,
and visited several public houses which he used to frequent but, not meeting with him,
the crime of murder was happily prevented. A woman in the neighbourhood of
Newgate Market having buried her husband, who had left her enough to support
herself and children with decency, Everett repeatedly visited the widow, was received
with too great marks of esteem, and assisted her in the dissipation of that money
which should have provided for her family. The widow's son, jealous of this
connexion, remonstrated with his mother on the impropriety of her conduct, and told
her it would end in her ruin. This made Everett and her more cautious in their
meetings; but the son watched them with the utmost degree of vigilance and
circumspection. Having one evening observed them go to the tavern, he provided
himself with a large and sharp knife, and, entering the room where they were sitting,
swore he would stab Everett to the heart; but the latter, by superiority of strength,
disarmed him. The young fellow was at length persuaded to sit down, when Everett
assured him that he entertained the utmost respect both for himself and his mother;
but the youth answered he was a liar, and the mutual destruction both of mother and
children must follow their unlawful connexion. As the lad grew warm, Everett
affected great coolness and good humour, and considered how he might most readily
get rid of so unwelcome a guest, as he was unwilling so soon to part with the widow.
At length he determined to make the young fellow drunk, and plied him with such a
quantity of liquor that he fell fast asleep, in which condition he was left, while the
other parties adjourned to a distant tavern, where they remained till morning, when
Everett borrowed seven guineas of the widow, under pretence of paying her in a
week. Not long after this Everett was married to this very widow at Stepney church,
by which he came into possession of money and plate to a considerable amount, and
might have lived happily with her if he would have taken her advice; but the
extravagance of his disposition led to his ruin.
When he was in very low circumstances he casually met his old accomplice,
Bird, and joined with him in the commission of a robbery in Essex. They were both
taken, and lodged in Chelmsford gaol; but Everett having turned evidence, the other
was convicted and executed. As soon as he obtained his liberty he committed several
robberies in the neighbour hood of London, the last of which was on a lady named
Ellis, whom he stopped near Islington; but, being taken into custody on the following
day, he was tried, and capitally convicted. He had been married to three wives, who
all visited him after sentence of death. He was likewise visited by the son of the
widow; but, recollecting what had formerly passed between them, Everett would have
stabbed him with a penknife, but was prevented by one of his wives; for which
interposition he afterwards expressed the greatest happiness. What gave him the most
uneasiness was the crime of perjury, of which he had been guilty, with a view to take
away the life of an innocent man. One Pickett, a cooper, having affronted him, he
swore a robbery against him; but, the jury not being satisfied with the evidence, the
man was fortunately acquitted. Mr. Nicholson, the then minister of St. Sepulchre's
church, attended the prisoner while under sentence of death, and kindly exerted
himself to convince him of the atrocious nature of his offences; but the number of
people who visited him from motives of curiosity took off his attention from his more
important duties. However, he was at times serious, and would then advise his
brethren in affliction to prepare for that death which now appeared unavoidable.
The gaol distemper having seized him while in Newgate, a report was
propagated that he had taken poison, but this was totally false. At the place of
execution, at Tyburn, February 20, 1729, he behaved in such a manner as induced the
spectators to think that his penitence for his past crimes was unaffected.
MAJOR JOHN ONEBY
Who murdered a Man in a Duel and cheated the Gallows, 1729
MAJOR ONEBY was the son of an eminent attorney at Burnwell, in
Leicestershire. His father intended him for his own honourable profession, and
procured him a marriage with the niece of the celebrated Sir Nathan Wright, who was
appointed Lord Keeper of the Great Seal of England.
Sir Nathan appointed him to be his train-bearer — no invaluable place, but
greatly inferior to what the young gentleman's ambition had taught him to aspire to.
However he kept his place some time, in expectation of preferment; but failing in his
views of promotion in this line he bought a commission in the army. He served under
the Duke of Marlborough in several campaigns in Flanders, and was promoted in the
army as the reward of his military merit. While in winter quarters at Bruges, at the
close of one of these campaigns, he had a quarrel with another officer, which
occasioned a duel, and Oneby, having killed the other, was brought to his trial before
a court martial, which acquitted him of the murder. The regiment being soon
afterwards ordered to Jamaica, Mr Oneby went with it, and during his residence at
Port Royal fought another duel with a brother officer, whom he wounded in so
dangerous a manner that he expired after an illness of several months; but as he did
not instantly die, no further notice was taken of the affair.
The rank of Major in a regiment of dragoons had been conferred on Mr Oneby
in consequence of his services; but on the Peace of Utrecht he returned to England,
and was reduced to half-pay. Repairing to London he frequented the gaming-houses,
and became so complete a gambler that he commonly carried cards and dice in his
pockets. Having fallen into company with some gentlemen at a coffee-house in
Covent Garden, they all adjourned to the Castle Tavern, in Drury Lane, where they
went to cards. Mr Hawkins, who was of the company, having declined playing, Mr
Rich asked if anyone would bet him three half-crowns. The bet was apparently
accepted by William Gower, Esq., who, in ridicule, laid down three halfpence. On this
Major Oneby abused Gower and threw a bottle at him; and, in return, Gower threw a
glass at the other. Swords were immediately drawn on both sides, but Mr Rich
interposing, the parties were apparently reconciled, and sat down to their former
diversion. Gower seemed inclined to compromise the difference, saying that he was
willing to adjust the affair though the Major had been the aggressor. In answer to this
Oneby said he "would have his blood," and said to Mr Hawkins that the mischief had
been occasioned by him. Hawkins replied he was ready to answer, if he had anything
to say; to which Oneby said: "I have another chap first." Mr Hawkins left the
company about three o'clock in the morning; soon after which Mr Oneby rose and
said to Gower: "Hark ye, young gentleman, a word with you"; on which they retired
to another room and shut the door. A clashing of swords being heard by the company,
the waiter broke open the door, and on their entrance they found Oneby holding
Gower with his left hand, having his sword in the right, and Mr Gower's sword lying
on the floor. A surgeon of eminence having examined Mr Gower's wounds, it was
found that the sword of his antagonist had passed through his intestines, of which
wound he died the following day; on which Mr Oneby was apprehended and lodged
in Newgate.
The circumstances above mentioned were stated on his trial; but some doubts
arising in the minds of the jury, they brought in a special verdict, referable to the
opinion of the twelve judges. Mr Oneby having remained in Newgate two years, and
the judges not having met to give their opinion, he became impatient of longer
confinement, and therefore moved the Court of King's Bench that counsel might be
heard on his case. Thereupon the prisoner was carried into court, by virtue of a writ of
habeas corpus; and the record of the special verdict being read, the Reverend Bench,
with great humanity, assigned him two counsel, a solicitor and a clerk in court.
Lord Chief Justice Raymond and three other judges presided a few days
afterwards, when the Major was again brought up, his counsel, as well as those for the
Crown, being heard; after which the Lord Chief Justice declared that he would take an
opportunity of having the opinion of the other judges, and then the prisoner should be
informed of the event. The Major, on his return to Newgate, gave a handsome dinner,
at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in the Strand, to the persons who had the custody of
him; and, seeming to be in high spirits on account of the ingenious arguments used by
his counsel, entertained little doubt of being discharged.
After a considerable time the judges assembled at Serjeant's Inn Hall to bring
the matter to a final decision. Counsel were heard on both sides, and the pleadings
lasted a whole day, during which the Major was carousing with his friends in
Newgate, and boasting of the certainty of his escape, as he had only acted in
conformity with the character of a man of honour.
The judges broke up about ten o'clock at night without declaring their opinion.
Not many days after this the keeper of Newgate told the Major he must
double-iron him, to prevent his making his escape, and that he must be removed to a
safer place, unless he would pay for a man to attend him in his room. Oneby was
shocked at this news and asked the keeper's authority for such a proceeding, but he
could obtain no satisfactory answer.
The man appointed to attend the Major in his room was one John Hooper (who
was afterwards executioner), a fellow of remarkable drollery, but of such a forbidding
countenance that when Oneby first saw him he exclaimed: "What the devil do you
bring this fellow here for? Whenever I look at him I shall think of being hanged."
Hooper, however, by a knack of telling stories, soon made himself a very agreeable
companion to the Major.
At length the judges assembled again at Serjeant's Inn Hall, and having
declared their opinions to each other, the Counsel for the Prosecution demanded that
their Lordships would proceed to judgment. Thereupon the sense of the Bench was
delivered to Mr Oneby by Lord Raymond, who said that it was the unanimous opinion
of the judges that he had been guilty of murder, and that his declaring he would "have
the blood" of Gower had great weight in his disfavour. A few days after this judgment
of death was passed against him, and he was ordered to be executed. On the Saturday
preceding the day that he was ordered for execution an undertaker went to Newgate
and delivered him a letter, of which the following is a copy, saying that he would wait
below for an answer:
HONOURED SIR, — This is to inform you that I follow the business of an
undertaker in Drury Lane, where I have lived many years and am well known to
several of your friends. As you are to die on Monday, and have not, as I suppose,
spoken to anybody else about your funeral, if your honour shall think fit to give me
orders, I will perform it as cheap, and in as decent a manner, as any man alive. Your
honour's unknown humble servant, G. H.
The Major had no sooner read this letter than he flew into a violent passion,
which being made known to the undertaker he thought proper to decamp, without
waiting for his orders. When Hooper came at night to attend Mr Oneby he told him of
the letter he had received from the undertaker, and in terms very improper for his
melancholy situation expressed his resentment for the supposed affront. Every hope of
pardon being vanished, this unhappy man had recourse to a dreadful method of
evading the ignominy of the gallows. On the night of the Saturday last mentioned he
went to bed at ten o'clock, and having slept till four o'clock on Sunday morning he
asked for a glass of brandy-and-water, and pen, ink and paper, and sitting up in bed
wrote the following note: —
COUSIN TURVILL, — Give Mr Akerman, the turnkey below-stairs, half-a-guinea,
and Jack, who waits in my room, five shillings. The poor devils have had a great deal
of trouble with me since I have been here.
Having delivered this note to his attendant, he begged to be left to his repose,
that he might be fit for the reception of some friends who were to call on him. He was
accordingly left, and on a gentleman coming into his apartment about seven o'clock,
and the Major's footman with him, he called out to the latter, "Who is that, Philip?"
which were the last words he was heard to speak. The gentleman, approaching the
bedside, found he had cut a deep wound in his wrist with a penknife and was drenched
in blood. A surgeon was instantly sent for, but he was dead before his arrival.
JAMES CLUFF
Murderer, executed at Tyburn, July 25, 1729, on an appeal, after being
acquitted.
This unhappy young man was born in Clare-market, and lived as a waiter at
several public-houses, in all of which he maintained an extraordinary character for
diligence, obligingness, and integrity.
Mr. Payne, master of the. Green Lattice, in Holborn, hired Cluff as a servant,
and during his residence there, he fell in love with Mary Green, his fellow-servant;
but she being courted by another man, constantly rejected his addresses, which
frequently agitated his mind in the most violent degree.
Green's other lover coming to see her, sat in the same box with her, and was
received by her in an affectionate manner; but this did not seem to be much regarded
by Cluff, who was then engaged in attending the customers: but when the lover was
gone, Mr. Payne, perceiving that something had discomposed Cluff's mind, asked him
the reason of it; but could not prevail on him to tell the cause.
While Mr. Payne and his wife were at dinner in the parlour, and the girl was
eating her dinner in one of the boxes, Mrs. Payne heard a noise, as if two persons
were struggling, and going into the tap-room, Cluff said, "Come hither, madam." On
this she advanced, and saw the prisoner holding the deceased by the shoulders, who
was sitting on the floor, and speechless, while the blood streamed from her in large
quantities.
Mrs. Payne called out, "What have you been doing, James?" He said,
"Nothing." He was asked if he had seen her hurt herself? He said, No; but that he had
seen her bring a knife from the cellar where she had been to draw some beer for her
dinner. Mr. Payne now entered the tap-room, and then went into then cellar to
discover if there was any blood there; but finding none, he accused Cluff on suspicion
of having committed the murder; and instantly sent for a surgeon. When the surgeon
arrived, he found that a knife had been stabbed into the upper part of the thigh, and
entered the body of the girl, in such a planner that she could not survive the stroke
more than a minute.
A bloody knife was found in the room, and Cluff was committed to Newgate
for the murder. On his trial, the surgeon deposed that the knife fitted the wound that
had been made, and that he believed the woman had not killed herself: but the jury
acquitted the prisoner, from what they deemed insufficiency of evidence:
A discharge of the accused party would now have followed of course; but
William Green, the brother and heir of the deceased, immediately lodged an appeal in
consequence of which Cluff was brought to trial at the next sessions but one, when his
case was argued with the utmost ingenuity by the counsel for and against him, but this
second jury found him guilty, and he was sentenced to die.
After conviction, his behaviour was the most devout and resigned that could
be imagined; he exercised himself in every act of devotion, but solemnly declared his
perfect innocence with respect to the murder. He was visited by his friends, who
earnestly entreated him to make a sincere confession; especially as in his case it was
not in the power of the king himself to grant him a pardon. In answer hereto, he freely
confessed all his other crimes; but, saying he would not rush into eternity with a lie in
his month, again steadily denied the perpetration of the crime of which he had been
convicted. The clergyman who attended him urged him to the confession of his guilt,
and even refused to administer the sacrament to him on the morning of his execution,
on any other terms than those of acknowledging his crime, but nothing could shake
his resolution; he still steadily persisted in his innocence.
On his way to the place of execution, he desired to stop at the door of his late
master, which being granted, he called for a pint of wine, and having drank a glass of
it, he addressed Mr. Payne in the following terms:
"Sir, you are not insensible that I am going to suffer an ignominious death, for
a crime of which I declare I am not guilty, as I am to appear before my great Judge in
a few moments to answer for all my past sins. I hope you and my good mistress will
pray for my poor soul. God bless you, and all your family."
At the place of execution he behaved in the most composed, devout, and
resigned manner; and seemed to possess in the consciousness of innocence. There was
a great concourse of spectators to witness his fatal end; to whom he spoke in the
following manner: "Good people, I am going to die for a fact I never committed, I
wish all mankind well; and as I have prayed for my prosecutors, I hope my sins will
be forgiven through the merits of my ever blessed redeemer. I beg you to pray for my
departing soul; and as to the fact now die for, I wish I was as free from, all other sins."
He was hanged at Tyburn on the, 25th of July, 1729, exhibiting no signs of
fear to his last moment.
The case of this man is very extraordinary. The evidence against him was at
best but circumstantial; and this not supported with such strong corroborative proofs
as have occasioned conviction in many other instances. No person was witness to his
commission of the murder; nor was there any absolute proof that he did commit it;
and from the steady perseverance with which he denied it, under the most awful
circumstances, and at the very concluding scene of his life, charity would. tempt one
to believe that he was innocent. Ought not this case to afford a lesson of caution to
juries how they convict on circumstantial evidence? Is it not better that the guilty
should escape, than the innocent be punished? All the decrees of mortals are liable to
error; but the time will come when all mists shall be cleared from our sight; and we
shall witness to the wisdom of those laws of Providence, which are now inscrutable to
mortal eyes. Then shall we see that what appeared inexplicable to us was divinely
right; and learn to admire that wisdom which, at present, so much exceeds our finite
comprehension. In the mean time, we ought to adore that goodness we cannot
comprehend, and rest satisfied with those dispensations, which are eternally and
immutably just.
JOHN GOW
Captain of a notorious Gang of Pirates. Executed at Execution Dock, 11th
of August, 1729 for Piracy
Execution of a Pirate at Execution Dock
JOHN GOW was a native of one of the Orkney Islands, in the north of
Scotland, and was instructed in maritime affairs, in which he became so expert that he
was appointed second mate of a ship, in which he sailed on a voyage to Santa Cruz.
When the vessel was ready to weigh anchor the merchants who had shipped
goods on board her came to pay a parting visit to the captain, and to give him their
final instructions.
On this occasion the captain, agreeable to custom, entertained his company
under an awning on the quarter-deck; and while they were regaling, some of the
sailors preferred a complaint of ill-treatment they pretended to have received,
particularly with regard to short allowance. The captain was irritated at so undeserved
a charge, which seemed calculated to prejudice him in the opinion of his employers;
but, conscious of the uprightness of his intentions, he did not reply in anger, but only
said that there was a steward on board who had the care of the provisions, and that all
reasonable complaints should be redressed; on which the seamen retired, with
apparent satisfaction.
The wind being fair, the captain directed his men to weigh anchor as soon as
the merchants had quitted the vessel. It was observed that Paterson, one of the
complainants, was very dilatory in executing his orders; on which the captain
demanded to know why he did not exert himself to unfurl the sails; to which he made
no direct answer, but was heard to mutter: "As we eat, so shall we work." The captain
heard this, but took no notice of it, as he was unwilling to proceed to extremities.
The ship had no sooner sailed than the captain considered his situation as
dangerous, on reflecting that his conduct had been complained of and his orders
disobeyed. Thereupon he consulted the mate, and they agreed to deposit a number of
small-arms in the cabin, in order to defend themselves in case of an attack. This
precaution might have been extremely salutary, but that they had spoken so loud as to
be overheard by two of the conspirators who were on the quarter-deck.
The captain likewise directed the mate to order Gow, who was second mate
and gunner, to clean the arms — a circumstance that plainly insinuated to the latter
that the conspiracy was at least suspected.
Those who had overheard the conversation between the captain and mate
communicated the substance of it to Gow and the other conspirators, who thereupon
resolved on immediate action. Gow, who had previously intended to turn pirate,
thought the present an admirable opportunity, as there were several chests of money
on board the ship: wherefore he proposed to his companions that they should
immediately embark in the enterprise; and they determined to murder the captain and
seize the ship.
Half of the ship's company were regularly called to prayers in the great cabin
at eight o'clock in the evening, while the other half were doing duty on deck; and,
after service, those who had been in the cabin went to rest in their hammocks. The
contrivance was to execute the plot at this juncture. Only two of the conspirators
remained on duty, the rest being among those who retired to their hammocks.
Between nine and ten at night a kind of watchword was given, which was, "Who fires
first?" On this some of the conspirators left their hammocks, and going to the cabins
of the surgeon, chief mate and supercargo, they cut their throats while they were
asleep.
The surgeon finding himself violently wounded quitted his bed, and soon
afterwards dropped on the floor and expired. The mate and supercargo held their
hands on their throats, and going on the quarter-deck solicited a momentary respite, to
recommend their souls to Heaven; but even this favour was denied, for the villains,
who found their knives had failed to destroy them, dispatched them with pistols.
The captain, hearing a noise, demanded the occasion of it. The boatswain
replied that he did not know, but he was apprehensive that some of the men had either
fallen or been thrown overboard. The captain hereupon went to look over the ship's
side, on which two of the murderers followed, and tried to throw him into the sea; but
he disengaged himself and turned about to take a view of them, when one of them cut
his throat, but not so as to kill him, for he now solicited mercy; but instead of granting
it the other stabbed him in the back with a dagger, and would have repeated his blow
but that he had struck with such force that he could not draw back the weapon. At this
instant Gow, who had been assisting in the murders between the decks, came on the
quarter-deck and fired a brace of balls into the captain's body, which put a period to
his life.
The execrable villains concerned in this tragical affair having thrown all the
dead bodies overboard, Gow was unanimously appointed to the command of the ship.
Those of the sailors who had not been engaged in the conspiracy secreted themselves,
some in the shrouds, some under the stores, in dreadful apprehension of sharing the
fate of the captain and their murdered companions.
Gow now assembled his associates on the quarter-deck, and appointed them
their different stations on board; and it was agreed to commence as pirates. The new
captain now directed that the men who had concealed themselves should be informed
that no danger would happen to them if they did not interfere to oppose the new
government of the ship, but keep such stations as were assigned to them. The men,
whose terrors had taught them to expect immediate death, were glad to comply with
these terms; but the pirates, to enforce obedience to their orders, appointed two men to
attend with drawn cutlasses, to terrify the others into submission. Gow and his
companions now divided the most valuable effects in the cabin; and then, ordering
liquor to be brought on the quarter-deck, they consumed the night in drinking, while
those unconnected in the conspiracy had the care of working the ship.
The ship's crew originally consisted of twenty-four men, of whom four had
been murdered and eight were conspirators, and before morning four of the other men
had approved of the proceedings of the pirates; so that there were only eight
remaining in opposition to the newly usurped authority.
On the following day the new captain summoned these eight men to attend
him, and, telling them he was determined to go on a cruising voyage, said that they
should be well treated if they were disposed to act in concert with the rest of the crew.
He said that every man should fare in the same manner, and that good order and
discipline were all that would be required. He further said that the captain's
inhumanity had produced the consequences which had happened; that those who had
not been concerned in the conspiracy had no reason to fear any ill consequences from
it; that they had only to discharge their duty as seamen, and every man should be
rewarded according to his merit.
To this address these unfortunate honest men made no kind of reply, and Gow
interpreted their silence into an assent of measures which it was not in their power to
oppose. After this declaration of the will of the new captain they were permitted to
range the ship at their pleasure; but as some of them appeared to act very reluctantly a
strict eye was kept on their conduct, for, as guilt is ever suspicious, the pirates were
greatly apprehensive of being brought to justice by means of some these men.
A man named Williams now acted as lieutenant of the vessel; and being
distinguished by the ferocity of his nature he had an opportunity of exerting his
cruelty by beating the unhappy men — a privilege that he did not fail to exert with a
degree of severity that must render his memory detestable.
The ship thus seized had been called the George galley, but the pirates gave
her the name of the Revenge; and, having mounted several guns, they steered towards
Spain and Portugal, in expectation of making a capture of wine, of which article 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, who navigated the ship, which they sunk.
One of the seamen whom they took out of 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. He said to Gow that he was willing to enter
into all his schemes, for he had been accustomed to the practice of acts of barbarity.
This man 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 for 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 cruising eight or ten days, they saw a vessel about the size of their own,
to which they gave chase. She hoisted French colours, and crowded all her sail in
order to get clear of them; and, after a chase of three days and nights, they lost the
French vessel in a fog.
Being distressed for water, they now steered towards the Madeira islands, of
which they came in sight in two days; but not thinking it prudent to enter the harbour,
they steered off and on for several days, in expectation of making prize of some
Portuguese or Spanish vessel; but their expectations were frustrated.
Their distress increasing, they stood in for the harbour, and brought the ship to
an anchor, but at a considerable distance from the shore. This being done, they sent
seven men, well armed, in a boat, with instructions to board a ship, cut her cables, and
bring her off; but if they failed in this, they were to attempt to make prize of wine and
water, conveying it in the boats to the ships. But both these schemes were frustrated
since it was easily known, from the distance they lay at, that they were pirates.
When they had cruised off for some days, they found themselves in such
distress, that it became absolutely necessary to seek immediate relief; on which they
sailed to Port Santa, a Portuguese settlement, at the distance of about ten leagues.
On their arrival off this place, they sent their boat on shore, with a present of
salmon and herrings for the governor, and the name of a port to which they pretended
to be bound. The persons sent on shore were civilly treated by the governor, who
accompanied some of his friends on board the ship. Gow and his associates received
the governor very politely, and entertained him and his company in the most
hospitable manner; but the boat belonging to the pirates not coming on board with
some provisions they had expected, and the governor and his attendants preparing to
depart, Gow and his people threatened to take away their lives, unless they instantly
furnished them with what they required.
The surprise of the Portuguese governor and his friends, on this occasion, is
not to be expressed. They dreaded instant death; and, with every sign of extreme fear,
solicited that their lives might be spared. Gow being peremptory in his demands, the
governor sent a boat repeatedly on shore, till the pirates were furnished with such
articles as they wanted.
This business being ended, the Portuguese were permitted to depart; and the
pirates determined to steer towards the coast of Spain, where they soon arrived. After
cruising a few days off Cape St. Vincent, they fell in with an English vessel, bound
from the coast of Guinea to America, with slaves; but had been obliged to put into the
port of Lisbon. However, it would have been of no use for them to have made capture
of such a vessel; yet they did take it, and putting on board the captain and men they
had heretofore taken, and taking out all the provisions, and some of the sails, they left
the ship to proceed on her voyage.
Falling in with a French ship, laden with wine, oil, and fruit, they took out the
lading, and gave the vessel to the Scotch captain, in return for the ship which they had
sunk. The Scotchman was likewise presented with some valuable articles, and
permitted to take his men to sail with him; all of whom did so, except one, who
continued with the pirates through choice.
The day previous to this affair they observed a French ship bearing down
towards them, on which Gow ordered his people to lay to; but observing that the
vessel mounted two and thirty guns, and seemed proportionately full of men, he
assembled his people, and observed to them that it would be madness in them to think
of engaging so superior a force.
The crew in general were of Gow's opinion; but Williams, the lieutenant, said
that Gow was a coward, and unworthy to command the vessel. The fact is, that Gow
possessed somewhat of calm courage, while Williams's impetuosity was of the most
brutal kind. The latter, after behaving in the most abusive manner, demanded that the
former should give orders for fighting the vessel; but Gow refusing to comply, the
other presented his pistol to shoot him, but it only flashed in the pan.
This being observed by two of the pirates, named Winter and Patterson, they
both fired at Williams, when one of them wounded him in the arm and the other in the
belly. He dropped as soon as the pieces were discharged, and the other seamen,
thinking he was dead, were about to throw him overboard when he suddenly sprang
on to his feet, jumped into the hold, and swore he would set fire to the powder-room;
and as his pistol was yet loaded there was every reason to think he would actually
have done so if he had not been instantly seized and his hands chained behind him, in
which condition he was put among French prisoners taken from ships they had
pirated, who were terrified at the sight of him; for the savage ferocity and barbarity of
his nature is not to be described, it being a common practice with him to beat the
prisoners in the severest manner for his diversion (as he called it), and then threaten to
murder them.
No engagement happened with the French ship, which held on her way; and
two days afterwards the pirates took a ship belonging to Bristol, which was laden with
salt fish and bound from Newfoundland to Oporto. Having taken out the provisions,
and many of the stores, they compelled two of the crew to sail with them, and then put
the French prisoners on board the newly captured vessel, which was just on the point
of sailing when they began to reflect in what manner that execrable villain, Williams,
should be disposed of.
At length it was determined to put him on board the Bristol ship, the
commander of which was desired to turn him over to the first English man-of-war he
should meet with, that he should experience the justice due to his crimes, and in the
meantime to keep him in the strictest confinement.
The cruelty of Williams's disposition has been already mentioned, and the
following is the most striking instance of it. Among the arguments used by Gow
against engaging the French ship, one was that they had already more prisoners than
they had proper accommodation for, on which Williams proposed, that those in their
possession might be brought up singly, their throats cut, and their bodies thrown
overboard; but Gow said there had been too much blood spilt already; for this was too
horrid a proposal for even pirates to consent to; and few men, however wicked, who
have committed murder, are so completely hardened as not to feel at times some
remorse for it.
The fact is, Williams would have been hanged at the yard-arm if an
opportunity had not offered of putting him on board the Bristol ship. When he learned
their intention respecting him he earnestly besought a reconciliation; but this being
refused him, and he being brought on deck in irons, he begged to be thrown
overboard, as he was certain of an ignominious death on his arrival in England; but
even this poor favour was denied him, and his companions only wished him "a good
voyage to the gallows." When the captain of the Bristol ship reached the port of
Lisbon he delivered his prisoner on boar an English man-of-war, which conveyed him
to England, where he had afterwards the fate of being hanged with his companions, as
we shall see in the sequel.
As soon as the Bristol ship 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 Hereupon
they called a kind of council, in which every on gave his opinion, as dictated by his
hopes of profit, or by his fears.
Some of them advised going to the coast of Guinea, others to North America,
and others again to the West Indies; but Gow proposed to sail to the Isles of Orkney,
on the north of Scotland, where he said they might dispose of theft effects and retire,
and live on the produce. To induce his people to comply with this proposal, Gow
represented that they wert 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.
He likewise said, that if any ships should be dispatched it quest of them, they
would not think of searching for then in a northern latitude, so that their voyage that
way would be safe; and, if they would follow his directions, much booty might be
obtained by plundering the houses of the gentlemen residing near the sea-coast. The
danger of alarming the country was objected to these proposals; but Gow said, that
they should be able to dispatch all their business, and sail again, before such an event
could happen.
Apparently convinced by this reasoning, they steered northward, and entering
a bay of one of the Orkney islands, Gow assembled his crew, and instructed them
what tale they should tell to the country people, to prevent suspicion: and it is
probable that they might, for the present, have escaped detection, if his instructions
had been literally attended to.
These instructions were, to say they were bound from Cadiz to Stockholm, but
contrary winds driving them past the Sound till it was filled with ice, they were under
the necessity of putting in to clean their ship; and that they would pay ready money
for such articles as they stood in need of.
It happened that a smuggling-vessel lay at this time in the bay: it belonged to
the Isle of Man; and, being laden with brandy and wine from France, had come north-
about, to steer clear of the custom-house cutters. In their present situation, Gow
thought it prudent to exchange goods with the commander of the vessel; though, in
any other, he would hardly have been so ceremonious. A Swedish vessel entering the
bay two days afterwards, Gow likewise exchanged some goods with the captain.
Now it was that the fate of the pirates seemed to be approaching; for such of
the men as had been forced into the service began to think how they should effect
their escape, and secure themselves by becoming evidence against their dissolute
companions.
When the boat went ashore one evening, a young fellow who had been
compelled to take part with the pirates got away from the rest of the boat's crew, and,
after lying concealed some time at a farmhouse, hired a person to show him the road
to Kirkwall, the principal place on the islands, about twelve miles distant from the bay
where the ship lay at anchor. Here he applied to a magistrate, said he had been forced
into the service, and begged that he might be entitled to the protection of the law, as
the fear of death alone had induced him to be connected with the pirates. Having
given information of what he knew of their irregular proceedings, the sheriff issued
his precepts to the constables and other peace officers to call in the aid of the people
to assist in bringing such villains to justice. About this juncture ten of Gow's sailors,
who had likewise taken an involuntary part with the pirates, seized the long-boat and,
having made the mainland of Scotland, coasted the country till they arrived at
Edinburgh, where they were imprisoned 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. The sight of men thus armed
occasioned much terror to Mrs Honeyman and her daughter, who shrieked with
dreadful apprehensions for their personal safety; but the pirates, employed in the
search for plunder, had no idea of molesting the ladies. They 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 then sailed to an island called Calf Sound, an intention of robbing the
house of Mr Fea, who had been an old schoolfellow 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. Mr Fea's house was
situated near the seashore; he had only six servants at home when the pirates appeared
off the coast, and these were by no means equal to a contest with the plunderers. 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 those 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.
This little island was merely a pasture for sheep belonging to Mr Fea, who had at that
time six hundred feeding on it. Gow having cast his anchor too near the shore, so that
the wind could not bring him off, 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 Gow's men came on shore in the
boat and proceeded, doubly armed, towards Fea's house. Thereupon the latter
advanced towards them with an assurance of friendship, and begged that they would
not enter the house, for his wife was exceedingly ill; that the idea of their approach
had greatly alarmed her, and that 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. While they were drinking, Mr Fea ordered his servants to destroy their
boat, and when they had done so to call him hastily out of the company and inform
him of it.
These orders were exactly complied with; and when he had left the pirates he
directed six men, well armed, to station themselves behind a hedge, and if they
observed him to come alone with the boatswain instantly to seize him; but if he came
with all the five desperadoes he would walk forward, so as to give them an
opportunity of firing without wounding himself.
After giving these orders Fea 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 all 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 only, and
would afterwards send for his companions.
This being agreed to, the boatswain set forward with two brace of pistols,
walking with Mr Fea till they came to the hedge where his men were concealed. Here
Mr Fea 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, some went to the one, and some to the
other, and, rushing in at once, they made prisoners of the other four men before they
had time to have recourse to their arms for defence.
The five 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. On the following day
the wind shifted to the north-west and blew hard, on which the pirates conceived
hopes of getting out to sea; but the person employed to cut the cable missing some of
his strokes, the ship's way was checked, she turned round and, the cable parting, the
vessel was driven on Calf Island.
Reduced to this dilemma, without even a boat to assist in getting off the ship,
Gow hung out a white flag, as an intimation that he was willing to treat on friendly
terms but Mr Fea, having now little doubt of securing the pirates, wrote to Gow and
told him he had been compelled to make prisoners of his men on account of their
insolent behaviour. He likewise told him that the whole country was alarmed, and that
the most probable chance of securing his own life would be by surrendering and
becoming an evidence against his accomplices.
Four armed men in an open boat carried this letter to Gow, who sent for
answer that he would give goods to the value of a thousand pounds to be assisted in
his escape; but if this should be refused, he would set fire to the ship, rather than
become a prisoner. He even said that he would trust to the mercy of the waves, if Mr.
Fea would indulge him with a boat.
On reading this letter, Fea determined to persuade him to submit, and therefore
took four men well armed, in a boat, and rowed towards the ship; but previously
placed a man with a flag in his hand at the top of his house, to make such signals as
might be proper to prevent his falling a sacrifice to any artifice of the pirates.
The instructions given to the servant were, that he should wave the flag once,
if he saw one of the pirates swim towards the shore; but if he beheld four or more of
them, he should wave it constantly, till his master got out of danger. Mr. Fea, rowing
forwards, spoke through a trumpet, asking Gow to come on shore, and talk with him,
which the latter said he would. Hereupon Fea lay to, in waiting for him; but at this
juncture he saw a man swimming from the ship, with a white flag in his hand, on
which the man on the house waved his flag; but soon afterwards he was observed to
wave it continually, on which Mr. Fea's boat retired, and those in her presently saw
five more of the pirates swimming towards them; but they returned to the ship as soon
as they saw the others were aware of the artifice.
The first pirate, who carried the white flag, now retired to a corner of the
island, and calling to Mr. Fea, told him that "the captain had sent him a bottle of
brandy." Fea replied that he hoped to see Gow hanged, and that he was inclined to
shoot the messenger for his insolence; on which the fellow decamped with great
precipitation.
Soon after this Gow wrote a most humble letter to Mrs. Fea, imploring her
interference in his behalf; and though she had determined not to interest herself in his
favour, yet he resolved to go on shore; and taking a white flag in his hand, he made
signals for a parley; on which Mr. Fea sent some armed men to seize him living or
dead.
On their meeting, Gow insisted that one of the men should be left as a hostage;
this circumstance being seen by Mr. Fea, from the windows of his house, he sailed
over to the island, where he reprimanded his people for delivering the hostage; and
likewise told Gow that he was his prisoner. Gow replied, that could not be, since a
hostage had been delivered for him.
To this Mr. Fea replied, that be had issued no orders for delivering the hostage,
and that the man who had foolishly engaged himself as such, must submit to the
consequence; but he advised Gow, for his own sake, to make signals, that the man
might obtain his liberty. This Gow refused to do; but Fea made signals which
deceived the pirates, two of whom came on shore with the man, and were instantly
taken into custody. Gow was now disarmed of his sword, and made prisoner, after
begging to be shot with his sword in his possession.
The leader of the gang being thus secured, Mr. Fea had recourse to stratagem
to get all the rest into his power. He now compelled Gow to make signals for some of
them to come on shore, which they readily did, and were apprehended by men
concealed to take them as they arrived.
Fea now insinuated to Gow, that he would let him have a boat to escape, if he
would send for his carpenter to repair it, and to bring with him two or three hands to
assist him: Gow complied; the men came off, and were severally seized; but as there
were other people still on board, Mr. Fea had recourse to the following contrivances
to get them into his possession. He directed his own servants to provide hammers,
nails, &c. and make a pretence of repairing the boat; and while this was doing, told
Gow to send for his men, since he must have possession of the ship before he would
deliver up the boat.
The pirates, on receiving their late captain's orders to come on shore, were
very doubtful how to act; but, after a short debate, and having no officers to command
them, they shared what money they possessed, and coming on shore, were all taken
into custody.
Thus, by an equal exertion of courage, conduct and artifice did Mr Fea secure
these dangerous men, twenty-eight in number, without a single man being killed or
wounded, and with only the aid of a few countrymen: a force apparently very
insufficient to the accomplishment of such a business. When all the prisoners were
properly secured, Mr Fea sent an express to Edinburgh, requesting that proper persons
might be sent to conduct them to that city.
In the interim, Mr. Fea took an inventory of all the effects in the ship, to be
appropriated as the government might direct.
Six articles, of which the following are a copy, were found on board the ship,
in Gow's handwriting. It is conjectured, that while they were entangled among the
rocks of the Orkney Islands, these articles were hastily drawn up, and arose from their
distressed situation.
I. That every man shall obey his commander in all respects, as if the ship was
his own, and as if he received monthly wages.
II. That no man shall give, or dispose of, the ship's provisions; but every one
shall have an equal share.
III. That no man shall open, or declare to any person or persons, who they are,
or what designs they are upon; and any persons so offending shall be punished with
immediate death.
IV. That no man shall go on shore till the ship is off the ground, and in
readiness to put to sea.
V. That every man shall keep his watch night and day; and at the hour of eight
in the evening every one shall retire from gaming and drinking, in order to attend his
respective station.
VI. Every person who shall offend against any of these articles shall be
punished with death, or in such other manner as the ship's company shall think proper.
The express from Mr Fea being arrived at Edinburgh, another was forwarded
to London, to learn the Royal pleasure respecting the disposal of the pirates; and the
answer brought was, that the Lord Justice Clerk should immediately send them to
London, in order to their being tried by a Court of Admiralty, to be held for that
purpose. When these orders reached Edinburgh a guard of soldiers marched to fetch
them to that city; and on their arrival they were put on board the Greyhound frigate,
which immediately sailed for the Thames.
On their arrival in the river a detachment of the guards from the Tower
attended their landing, and conducted them to the Marshalsea Prison, where they once
more saw Lieutenant Williams, who had been conveyed to England by the man-of-
war which received him from the Bristol captain at Lisbon. This Williams, though
certain of coming to an ignominious end, took a malignant pleasure in seeing his
companions in like circumstances of calamity. A commission was now made out for
their trial; and soon after their commitment they underwent separate examinations
before the judge of the Admiralty Court in Doctors' Commons, when five of them,
who appeared to be less guilty than the rest, were admitted evidences against their
accomplices. Being removed from the Marshalsea to Newgate, their trials came on at
the Old Bailey, when Gow, Williams and six others were convicted, and received
sentence of death; but the rest were acquitted, as it seemed evident that they had been
compelled to take part with the pirates.
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. His reason for this refusal was,
that he had an estate which he wished might descend to a relation, and which would
have been the case had he died under the pressure.
But when the proper officers were about to inflict this punishment, he begged
to be taken again to the bar to plead, of which the judge being informed, humanely
granted his request; and the consequence was that he was convicted, as above-
mentioned, on the same evidence as his accomplices.
While under sentence of death, he was visited by some Presbyterian ministers,
who laboured to convince him of the atrociousness of his crime; but he seemed deaf to
all their admonitions and exhortations.
Williams's depravity of mind exceeds all description. He seemed equally
insensible to the hope of happiness, or the fear of torment in a future state. He
boasted, to those who visited him, of his constantly advising Gow "to tie the prisoners
back to back, and throw them into the sea," to prevent their giving evidence against
them.
Gow, Williams and six of their accomplices were executed together. A
remarkable circumstance happened to Gow at the place of execution. His friends,
anxious to put him out of his pain, pulled his legs so forcibly that the rope broke and
he dropped down; on which he was again taken up to the gibbet, and when he was
dead was hanged in chains on the banks of the Thames.
JEPHTHAH BIG
Executed at Tyburn, Sept. 19, 1729, for sending a letter to extort money.
This malefactor was a native of Spitalfields, and having a brother who was
coachman to a gentleman of fortune, he conceived an idea of supplying his own
extravagancies, by extorting money from his brother's master.
Calling on one Peter Salter, he took him to an obscure public-house near the
Minories, where he developed his scheme, saying he might obtain a hundred guineas
by sending a threatening letter; but was at a loss to think what house the money
should he sent to: at length he fixed on a public-house, called the Shoulder of Mutton,
at Billingsgate, whither he directed Salter to go, and wait till a porter should bring a
letter directed to John Harrison, which letter Salter was to carry to Big, at an alehouse
on Fish-street Hill.
Agreeable to this direction, Salter waited at the Shoulder of Mutton till a
porter brought a letter, and spoke to the landlord and his son, who seemed surprised at
reading the contents. Guilt is ever cowardly; and one of them going out, Salter
imagined it was to call an officer to apprehend him; on which he slipped out of the
house, and went to his companion on Fish-street Hill.
These associates in roguery taking a walk to Moor-fields, Big said he was
undaunted by this repulse, and that he would write such a letter as would make the
gentleman tremble; and he did not doubt of success. In consequence of an agreement
between the parties, another letter was sent, ordering the gentleman to send a hundred
guineas, inclosed in a parcel, to the Black Boy in Goodman's-fields, directed to John
Harrison.
Salter went daily, and drank at this house, where he had hitherto been a
stranger, in expectation of an answer, which he was to receive, guarding only against
any artifice that might be used to apprehend him. While he was thus waiting, he read
an advertisement in the newspaper, offering a reward for the incendiary.
At this juncture a, porter brought a letter, which he gave the landlord, who
having read it, the porter said; "I have a parcel for one Mr. Harrison; do you know
such a gentleman?" The landlord inquired if any person present answered to that
name; but Salter was too much on his guard to do so; and drinking his beer without
any sign of fear, he went to an alehouse near Aldgate, where he met his accomplice
and told him a scheme was laid to apprehend him.
After some conference, they adjourned to a public-house near the residence of
the gentleman to whom the threatening letters had been sent. Here Big sent for his
brother, who attended, but said, as he was obliged to go out with his master, he could
not stay with them. Big now observed that his brother had complained of the peevish
disposition of his master, and asked if he did not intend to leave him. The brother
replied, that his master had been very fretful for some days past: but added, "I have
now found out the reason; for some vile rogue has sent a threatening letter, and swears
he will murder him, if a sum of money is not sent to a public-house in Goodman's-
fields."
When Big's brother was gone, he told Salter he would send another letter,
whatever might be the consequence; but Salter persuaded him not to run the risk of a
proceeding which must be followed by certain ruin.
A few days after this, the porter who had carried the letter and seen Salter at
both the public-houses, happened to meet him, and suspecting that he might be the
incendiary, delivered him into the custody of a peace-officer, on which he accused
Big as the principal, who was thereupon apprehended and committed to Newgate, and
Salter admitted evidence for the crown.
Big being tried at the Old Bailey, was sentenced to die; but, after conviction,
he seemed to be of opinion that he had not been guilty of a capital offence in sending
a letter to extort money. He was thought to be a Roman Catholic, since he refused the
attendance of the Ordinary while he lay in Newgate.
He was hanged at Tyburn, on the 19th of September, 1729, but was so ill at the
place of execution, that he could not attend the devotions proper for men in his
calamitous situation.
FRANCIS CHARTERIS
Convicted of using violence to the person of Ann Bond.
THE name of Charteris, during life, was a terror to female innocence; may,
therefore, his fate, and the exposure of his villainy, act as their shield against the
destructive machinations of profligate men, especially such as those upon whom the
blind and fickle goddess, Fortune, may have unworthily heaped riches. The wealthy
profligate, in order to gratify an inordinate passion, will promise, perjure, and pay, to
any length, or to any amount — then, 'like a loathsome weed, cast you away.'
Be thus advis'd, ye young and fair,
Let virtuous men engage your care.
The rake and libertine despise;
Their breath is poison — O be wise!
Their arts and wiles turn quick away,
And from fair Virtue's path ne'er stray.
By the law of Egypt rapes were punished by removal of the offending parts.
The Athenian laws compelled the ravisher of a virgin to marry her. It was long before
this offence was punished capitally by the Roman law; but at length the Lex Julia
inflicted the pains of death on the ravisher. The Jewish law also punished this crime
with death; but, if a virgin was deflowered without force, the offender was obliged to
pay a fine and marry the woman.
By the 18th of Elizabeth, cap. 7, this offence was made felony without benefit
of clergy.
It is certainly of a very heinous nature, and, if tolerated, would be subversive
of all order and morality; yet it may still be questioned how far it is either useful or
politic to punish it with death; and it is worth considering whether, well knowing that
it originates in the irregular and inordinate gratification of unruly appetite, the injury
to society may not be repaired without destroying the offender.
In most cases this injury. might be repaired by compelling, where it could he
done with propriety, the criminal to marry the injured party; and it would be well for
society if the same rule extended not only to all forcible violations of chastity, but
even to instances of premeditated and systematic seduction.
In cases, however, where marriage could not take place, on account of legal
disability or refusal on the part of the woman, the criminal ought to be severely
punished by pecuniary damages to the party injured, and by hard labour and
confinement, or transportation for life.
The execrable subject of this narrative was born at Amsfield, in Scotland,
where he was heir to an estate which his ancestors had possessed above four hundred
years; he was also related to some of the first families in the North by intermarriages
with the nobility.
Young Charteris, having received a liberal education, made choice of the
profession of arms, and served first under the Duke of Marlborough, as an ensign of
foot, but was soon advanced to the rank of cornet of dragoons: he appears, however,
to have had other views than fighting when he embraced the life of a soldier.
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 the officers of all their property by
his skill at cards and dice. But he was as knavish as he was dexterous: and, when he
had defrauded a brother-officer of all his money, he would lend him a sum at the
moderate interest of a hundred per cent, taking an assignment of his commission as
security for the payment of the debt.
John, Duke of Argyle, and the Earl of Stair, were at this time young men in the
army; and, being deter mined 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
gentlemen in the military line, if Charteris was not stopped in his proceedings.
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, that Charteris might have no reason to say he was treated with partiality.
After a candid hearing of the ease, the proofs of Charteris's villainy were so
strong, that be was sentenced to return the money he had obtained by usurious
interest, to be deprived of his commission, and to be drummed out of the regiment, his
sword being first broken; which sentence was executed in its fullest extent.
Thus disgraced, Charteris quitted Brussels, and, in the road between that place
and Mecklin, he threw his breeches into a ditch, and then, buttoning his scarlet cloak
below his knees, he went into an inn to take up his lodgings for the night.
It is usual, in places where armies are quartered, for military officers to be
treated with all possible respect; and this was the case with Charteris, who had every
distinction shown him that the house could afford, and, after an elegant supper, was
left to repose.
Early in the morning he rang the bell violently, and, the landlord coming
terrified into his room, he swore furiously that he had been robbed of his breeches,
containing a diamond ring, a gold watch, and money to a considerable amount; and,
having previously broken the window, he intimated that some person must have
entered that way, and carried off his property; and he even insinuated that the landlord
himself might have been the robber.
It was in vain that the innkeeper solicited mercy in the most humiliating
posture. Charteris threatened that be should be sent to Brussels, and suffer death, as an
accessory to the felony.
Terrified at the thought of approaching disgrace and danger, the landlord of
the house sent for some friars of an adjacent convent, to whom he represented his
calamitous situation, and they generously supplied him with a sum sufficient to
reimburse Charteris for the loss he pretended to have sustained.
Our unprincipled adventurer now proceeded through Holland, whence he
embarked for Scotland, and had not been long in that kingdom before his servile
submission, and his money, procured him another commission in a regiment of horse;
and he was afterwards advanced to the rank of colonel.
Amidst all his other avocations, the love of money was his ruling passion; for
the acquirement whereof there was no crime of which he would not have been guilty.
The Duke of Queensbury was at this time commissioner to the Parliament of
Scotland, which was assembled at Edinburgh, to deliberate on the proposed union
with England. Charteris having been invited to a party at cards with the Duchess of
Queensbury, he contrived that her Grace should be placed in such a manner, near a
large glass, that he could see all her cards; and he won three thousand pounds of her in
consequence of this stratagem. One good, however, resulted from this circumstance:
the Duke of Queensbury, incensed at the imposition, brought a bill into the House to
prohibit gaming for above a certain sum; and this bill passed into a law.
Our adventurer continued his depredations on the thoughtless till be had
acquired considerable sums. When he had stripped young men of their ready cash at
the gaming-tables, it was his practice, as before, to lend them money at an extravagant
interest, for which he took their bonds to confess judgment, and the moment the bonds
became due he failed not to take every legal advantage.
By a continued rapacity of this kind he acquired several considerable estates in
Scotland, and then removed to London, which, as it was the seat of greater
dissipation, was a place better adapted to the exertion of his abilities.
He now became a great lender of money on mortgages, always receiving a
large premium, by which at length he became so rich as to purchase several estates in
England, particularly in the county of Lancaster.
Colonel Charteris was as infamous on account of his amours as for the
unfeeling avarice of his disposition: his house was no better than a brothel, and no
woman of modesty would live within his walls. He kept in pay some women of
abandoned character, who, going to inns where the country waggons put up, used to
prevail on harmless young girls to go to the colonel's house as servants; the
consequence of which was, that their ruin soon followed, and they were turned out of
doors, exposed to all the miseries consequent on poverty and a loss of reputation.
His agents did not confine their operations to inns, but, wherever they found a
handsome girl, they endeavoured to decoy her to the colonel's house; and, among the
rest, Ann Bond fell a prey to his artifices. This young woman had lived in London,
but, having quitted her service on account of illness, took lodgings at a private house,
where she recovered her health, and was sitting at the door, when a woman addressed
her, saying, she could help her to a place in the family of Colonel Harvey; for the
character of Charteris was now become so notorious, that his agents did not venture to
make use of his name.
Bond being hired, the woman conducted her to the colonel's house, where she
was three days before she was acquainted with his real name. Her master gave her
money to redeem some clothes, which she had pledged to support her in her illness;
and would have bought other clothes for her, but she refused to accept them.
He now offered her a purse of gold, an annuity for life, and a house, if she
would lie with him; but the virtuous girl resisted the temptation; declared she would
not be guilty of so base an act; that she would discharge her duty as a servant, and that
her master might dismiss her if her conduct did not please him.
On the day following this circumstance she heard a gentleman asking for her
master by the name of Charteris, which alarmed her fears still more, as she was not
unapprized of his general character; wherefore she told the housekeeper that she must
quit her service, as she was very ill.
The housekeeper informing the colonel of this circumstance, he sent for the
poor girl, and threatened that he would shoot her if she left his service. He likewise
ordered the servants to keep the door fast, to prevent her making her escape; and,
when he spoke of her, it was in the most contemptuous terms.
On the following day he directed his clerk of the kitchen to send her into the
parlour; and, on her attending him, he bade her stir the fire: while she was thus
employed, he suddenly seized and committed violence on her, first stopping her
mouth with his night-cap; and afterwards, on her saying that she would prosecute him,
he beat her with a horsewhip, and called her by the most opprobrious names.
On his opening the door the clerk of the kitchen appeared, to whom the
colonel pretended that she had robbed him of thirty guineas, and directed him to turn
her out of the house, which was accordingly done.
Hereupon she went to a gentlewoman named Parsons, and, informing her of
what had happened, asked her advice how to proceed. Mrs. Parsons recommended her
to exhibit articles against him for the assault; but, when the matter came afterwards to
he heard by the grand jury, they held that it was not an attempt, but an actual
commission, of the fact; and a bill was found accordingly.
When the colonel was committed to Newgate he was loaded with heavy
fetters; but he soon purchased a lighter pair, and paid for the use of a room in the
prison, and for a man to attend him.
Colonel Charteris had been married to the daughter of Sir Alexander Swinton,
of Scotland, who bore him one daughter, afterwards married to the Earl of Wemys;
and the earl, happening to be in London at the time of the above-mentioned
transaction, procured a writ of habeas corpus, in consequence of which the colonel
was admitted to bail.
When the trial came on every art 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 given against
the colonel, who received sentence to be executed in the accustomed manner.
On this occasion Charteris was not a little obliged to his son-in-law, Lord
Wemys, who caused the Lord President Forbes to come from Scotland, to plead the
cause before the privy council; and an estate of 300L. per annum for life was assigned
to the president for this service.
At length the king consented to grant the colonel a pardon, on his settling a
handsome annuity on the prosecutrix.
Colonel Charteris was tried at the Old Bailey on the 25th of February, 1730.
After his narrow escape from a fate which he had so well deserved he retired
to Edinburgh, where he lived about two years, and then died in a miserable manner, a
victim to his own irregular course of life.
He was buried in the family vault, in the churchyard of the Grey Friars of
Edinburgh; but his vices had rendered him so detestable, that it was with some
difficulty he was committed to the gave; for the mob almost tore the coffin in pieces,
and committed a variety of irregularities, in honest contempt of such an abandoned
character.
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; and under the print 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 sentenc'd from the bench,
Only for ravishing a country wench?
Note: At Exeter, on the 5th of October, 1753, an unworthy minister of the Holy
Gospel, the Reverend Peter Vine, was hanged for committing a crime of this nature.
SIR SIMON CLARKE, BART., AND LIEUTENANT
ROBERT ARNOTT
Convicted as Highwaymen in 1731, but afterwards reprieved
SIR SIMON CLARKE and Lieutenant Robert Arnott were tried and convicted
of a highway robbery at an assize held at Winchester, but the influence exerted on
their behalf almost smothered the promulgation of the trial. The Gentleman's
Magazine for the month of March, 1731, contains the following information; and as
we have met with it in no other periodical work of that time, for, in fact, few such are
now in preservation, we give it without further comment:
"Came on at Winchester, the trials of Sir Simon Clarke, Bart., and Lieutenant Robert
Arnott, who were convicted of a robbery on the highway. A numerous concourse of
gentry were present. Sir Simon made a most pathetic and moving speech, which had
such an effect, that there was scarce a dry eye in the court. The High Sheriff and
Grand Jury, considering the antiquity, worth and dignity of Sir Simon's ancestors, the
services they had done their king and country, together with the youth and melancholy
circumstances of that unhappy gentleman, agreed to address his Majesty in their
behalf; upon which a reprieve sine die, which implies for ever, was granted them."
ROBERT IRWIN
Executed at Tyburn, in the year 1731, for Murder.
In the fate of this man we have another instance of the tormenting impulse that
impels murderers, who have escaped the punishment which awaits such as shed
innocent blood, to return, as it were involuntarily, to make atonement for the horrid
crime.
This hoary sinner was, at the time of his committing the murder in question, a
soldier in the second regiment of foot guards. On the evening of the fatal deed, he had
been drinking Geneva with a comrade of the name of John Briggins, after which they
went together to a gaming. house, called the Phoenix, in the Hay-market, where Irwin
had some time held the office of door-keeper. [Note: Soldiers in the guards, for long
and faithful services, are often indulged with leave of absence from duty, in order to
allow them to earn a little addition to their pay, which, alone, but ill supplies the
comforts to old age.] Ringing the bell, one Piercy, who had succeeded Irwin as door-
keeper, opened a wicket; but seeing who it was, said, he had orders not to let him in,
as he had already been turned out for breeding quarrels and disturbances. Enraged at
this language from the man who had supplanted him, he drew his bayonet, pushed it
through the wicket, into the very heart of Piercy, and then made his escape. Hearing
the next morning that the door-keeper of the Phœnix had been murdered, he
determined to desert his regiment, which he immediately put in practice, and fled to
Ireland, where he remained long undiscovered among his relations, and might, for the
remainder of his wretched life, have remained thus concealed, had his mind been
undisturbed; but his situation grew irksome, and nobody could dissuade him from
returning to London. As a reason for so doing, he pretended, that from his long
services in the army, he would, on application be made an out-pensioner of Chelsea
hospital, and fancied the murder would be forgotten. He had not, however, been many
days in London, before he was met by one John Roberts, who caused him to be
apprehended. He was tried at the Old Bailey, for the murder of Piercy, near five years
after the commission of the crime, when his old comrade Briggins, appeared, and
swore that he saw Irwin give the fatal blow. He was found guilty, and executed at
Tyburn, where he confessed the fact.
WILLIAM SMITH
A notorious horse-stealer, executed at Chelmsford, April 13, 1731
In the former part of the last century, horse-stealing was a very common theft.
Thieves could then dispose of their stolen booty with much more facility than at
present; the laws being better maintained and carried into execution than formerly.
The subject of the present enquiry was not only a horse but a cattle-stealer of
every description. Smith was born in Cambridge, bred a clothier, had been a soldier,
then degraded to the post of footman to a private family; and from that lazy, saucy
kind of life became connected with horse-stealers. Owing to his person, not yet known
in the scenes of their depredations, he for some time acted as the receiver of the gang.
He returned some of the stolen property for the reward offered, cut out or altered the
marks of others, and drove the remainder to a distance for sale. From a rich farmer in
Essex, he stole four fine large colts, and gave them to a colonel in the French service,
hoping to be rewarded by a commission in his regiment; but Monsieur, though he
liked the young horses, despised the thief; and Smith found that he had been
outwitted. In revenge, he defrauded a farmer of six horses, pretending to purchase
them.
Becoming now known in Essex, he changed his depredations to Surrey, and
soon cheated a farmer's widow of two cows. Having next stolen a horse and a mare,
he was about to drive the whole off for sale, when, on the 27th of May, 1731, he was
apprehended. The cows were were found yoked together, and tied to the horses tails
and he was in the very act of cutting off the ears of the former, in order to deface
them, having already altered the marks of the horses.
He was tried for the offences committed in Essex, at Chelmsford, and found
guilty of felony, in horse-stealing. In the interim between his condemnation and
execution, he gave out that he could inform persons how to recover their property of
which he had robbed them, and cheated many out of sums of money by false tales,
and other deceitful acts; and the produce of this shocking depravity he wasted in
drinking and gaming, which shameful practice he continued to the day of his
execution. He suffered at Chelmsford, along with Thomas Willer; another horse-
stealer, on the 18th of August, 1731.
At the next assize for the same county another horse-stealer was convicted and
executed. This man's name was John Doe, against whom thirty-nine bills of
indictment were found by the grand jury. He belonged to a numerous gang of
depredators, who stole cattle of every description, and drove them to Smithfield
market, in London, where he had the effrontery to sell them.
ROBERT HALLAM
Executed for murdering his wife, February 14th, 1732
Robert Hallam was a native of London, and intended by his parents for a
maritime life, in preparation for which they had him instructed in navigation, and then
apprenticed him to the captain of a trading vessel. He served his time with fidelity,
acquired the character of an able seaman, and afterwards went on board several
vessels as a mate, and was held in great reputation.
On his return to London he married a young woman, who being averse to his
going again to sea, he purchased two of the Gravesend wherries, and continued to get
his living on the Thames nine years.
His family being increased by several children, he took a public house, which
was chiefly attended to by his wife, while he still pursued his business as a proprietor
of the Gravesend boats.
The taking an alehouse was an unfortunate circumstance for Hallam; for the
house being frequented by the lowest of the people, and his wife being addicted to
drinking, the place was a perpetual scene of riot and confusion.
Hallam, returning from his business one evening, found his wife intoxicated:
being irritated by this circumstance, he expressed his sentiments with great freedom;
and she replying with some warmth, he beat her so as to leave evident marks of
resentment on her face.
Hallam's son now told his father that a waterman who lodged in the house
frequently slept with his mother; and some persons present likewise hinting that this
was probable, from certain familiarities they had observed between the woman and
the waterman, Hallam charged his wife with being unfaithful to his bed, and she
confessed that she had been so; on which he beat her in a more severe manner than
before.
Not long after this he came home late at night, and knocked at the door;. but,
no one coming to let him in, he procured a ladder to get in at the window; when his
wife appeared, and admitted him. On his asking the reason why she did not sooner
open the door, she said she had been asleep, and did not hear him; but she afterwards
confessed that she had a man with her, and had let him out at a back window before
she opened the door to her husband.
The infidelity of Hallam's wife tempted him to equal indulgence of his
irregular passions: he had illicit connexions with several women, and, in particular,
seduced the wife of a waterman, which broke the husband's heart, and he died in
consequence of the affair.
On a particular night Hallam came home very much in liquor, and went to bed,
desiring his wife to undress herself, and come to bed likewise. She sat, partly
undressed, on the side of the bed, as if afraid to go in; while he became quite enraged
at her paying no regard to what he said. At length she ran downstairs, and he followed
her, and locked the street-door to prevent her going out. On this she ran up into the
dining-room, whither he likewise followed her, and struck her several times. He then
went into another room for his cane, and she locked him in.
Enraged at this, he broke open the door, and, seizing her in his arms, threw her
out of the window, with her head foremost, and her back to the ground, so that, on her
falling, her back was broken, her skull fractured, and she instantly expired. A person
passing just before she fell heard her cry out "Murder! for God's sake! for Christ's
sake! for our family's sake! for our children's sake, don't murder me, don't throw me
out of the window!"
We give the above circumstances us what were sworn to on the trial, in
consequence of which the jury found Hallam guilty, and he received sentence of
death: but the prisoner denied the fact, insisting that she threw herself out of the
window before he got into the room; and he persisted in avowing his innocence to the
last hour of his life. He was executed at Tyburn, February 14, 1732.
JOHN HEWIT AND ROSAMUND ODERENSHAW
Murderers, executed March 29, 1732
THOUGH adultery is, by holy writ, denounced as a crime heinous to God; and
though we have daily instances of the shocking enormities to which it leads the
unguarded; yet virtue and modesty are constantly outraged by the commission of this
sin with impunity. No wonder, then at the mischief arising from this vice, when our
very princes, who are bound by every tie to hand down to the meanest members of
society examples worthy of emulation, seem regardless of that commandment of God,
which says, "Thou shalt not commit adultery."
The murder perpetrated in the present case, was the result of an adulterous
connection. John Hewit was a butcher and a married man, at Derby, and Rosamond
Oderenshaw, a servant to the landlady of the Crown public-house, at Nun's green, a
widow, to whose inordinate desires she fell a victim, being made the instrument of
murdering the wife of Hewit. From the confessions of these malefactors, it appeared
that Hewit had criminal knowledge of both the landlady and her servant woman. The
former of these abandoned women, in order to secure her paramour to herself, by
marrying him, determined on the murder of Mrs Hewit. To this horrid end, the
landlady procured some poisons and mixed it in a pancake, which, through promises
of reward, she prevailed upon the servant to give to Hannah Hewit, who, little
suspicious, eat heartily thereof, until she was seized with a pain in her stomach, and,
vomiting a part of the contents in the yard, a pig that eat of it soon died, and the
unfortunate woman expired in excruciating torments, at the end of three hours. While
the devoted victim eat the poisoned food, the hardened landlady appeared to be
composedly ironing some clothes in the parlour, yet the instigator of the foul deed
escaped; while the husband, who was proved to have been accessory to the crime, and
the servant alone, met their just punishment. The condemned wicked woman, a short
time previous to her execution, confessed that, through the persuasion of her mistress,
she had some weeks before put poison into the broth of Mrs. Hewit, but not in a
sufficient quantity to produce the intended effect; and that she had borne a bastard
child, which she murdered, and buried the body in a certain spot, which she described;
digging the ground, the bones of a child, apparently seven months old, were
accordingly found.
This miserable man and woman provided themselves with a shroud each, in
which they walked to the gallows; where they died penitent, and confessed their guilt,
on March 29, 1732.
About this period, Faulkner's Journal, the best periodical publication Ireland
ever produced, contained a note of a murder committed under the most unnatural and
cruel circumstances, but we do not find it in any criminal catalogue whatever. Too
short for a narrative of itself and unwilling to avoid handing it with others of a similar
shade of darkness, as a warning to society against the commission of sins, we have
here inserted it, as being nearly a similar case, in chronological order.
"The assizes at Ennis, in. Ireland, for the year 1731, brought to light a still
more shocking murder, if one can be more heinous than another. A cruel and
unnatural woman, named Mary Meddun, was convicted of the wilful murder of her
husband and her son, by blows on their temples, when asleep, with a hatchet, of which
they both immediately expired. What rendered this wretch more odious to the people
attending her execution, was a firm belief that she had murdered a former husband."
JONATHAN HAWKINS was born and bred in the parish of Mark, near the
city of Wells, in Somersetshire, of honest and industrious parents, who educated him
in the principles of religion; but, being poor, gave him little or no learning. His father
was a husbandman, and brought up his son Jonathan in his own occupation, whereby
he acquired a sufficient livelihood and maintenance. He spent all the time of his youth
soberly, and in the fear of God, constantly attending at Divine service. He was not
addicted to lying, swearing, blaspheming, hard drinking or keeping any ill company;
but detestably shunned and abhorred all those enormous vices and lewd courses.
When he arrived at man's estate he married, and led a sober and regular life during the
limited time of the matrimonial bonds. But after his wife's death he began to swerve
from his former course of life, and gradually betook himself to commit several petty
crimes.
Among the rest of his friends and acquaintances he had contracted a mutual
friendship with one George Gase, who resided in the same parish, and was Jonathan's
brother-in-law. It seems that Jonathan, having occasion for a certain sum of money,
applied to his brother-in-law, who supplied him with the sum requested, and for the
security thereof received Jonathan's bond. The appointed time of payment being partly
expired, he studied by what means he might free himself from the payment thereof,
and concluded to procure the bond into his custody, or at least to deprive his brother-
in-law of any advantage thereby. Monday, the 17th of January, 1732, was the day on
which he had prefixed to officiate and determine his intended villainy; when, entering
the house of his brother-in-law, and finding no one therein save the old man and his
daughter, Mary Gase, he embraced the opportunity, and put his wicked design in
execution, by barbarously murdering them both (the one being nearly eighty years of
age and the other about thirty), and afterwards firing the house, which doubtless was
to consume the dead bodies, that so his villainy might be cloaked, and he pass
unsuspected. As soon as he had completed this horrid act he retired to a neighbour's
house, and there played at cards, with as little seeming regret or outward concern as
though nothing had befallen him. But in the middle of their diversion they were
instantly interrupted, and the scene immediately changed, occasioned by one of the
people looking out, and crying: "Fire! Fire!" which sudden disaster alarming them,
they all showed a forward and voluntary diligence in going to quench the fire except
Jonathan, who on being required to assist them therein answered in the negative. The
major part of the parish were gathered together before the force of the conflagration
became unquenchable, so that they entered the house; where, to their great surprise
(mirabile dictu!), they found the bodies of the old man (Jonathan's brother-in-law) and
his daughter lying prostrate on the ground, weltering in their blood, with their throats
cut from car to ear. By this time all the inhabitants were in a confusion and uproar,
and knew not who to charge with the fact. In this consternation they remained for
some time, till, Jonathan being asked for the key of the door, he replied: "It is in that
hedge yonder" (pointing to a box-hedge), where they found it accordingly. They had
now just grounds for suspicion and, perceiving his countenance to change, they
charged him with murdering the people, and carried him to the place where the bodies
lay, to touch them. When he had done this, his colour alternately changed; and being
taxed with the murder he confessed all. And when it was demanded why he set the
house on fire, he answered that he did it to burn the bond which he had given his
brother-in-law. He was seized and carried before a justice, who committed him to
Ilchester jail.
After about two months' imprisonment Jonathan was conveyed from Ilchester
to Taunton, in order to receive his trial. He pleaded guilty to the indictment, and
acknowledged all that was deposed against him in court, and accordingly received
sentence of death. He was executed on the 14th day of April, 1732, being in the thirty-
fourth year of his age, on a very high gibbet, erected on a large common, adjoining to
the said parish, called Markmoor, and afterwards taken down and hanged in chains in
the same place.
JOHN WALLER, alias TREVOR,
Pilloried for perjury, and pelted to death by the populace, 13th June, 1732
Waller in the Pillory
THE pillory is an engine mode of wood, to punish offenders, by exposing
them to public view, and rendering them infamous. There is a statute of the pillory 51
Henry III.; and by statute it is appointed for bakers, forestallers, and those who use
false weights, perjury, forgery, &c. Lords of Leets are to have a pillory and tumbrel or
it will be the cause of forfeiture of the leet; and a village may be bound by
proscription to provide a pillory, &c. The name is derived from two Greek words,
signifying 'to look through a door;' because one standing on the pillory puts his head,
as it were, through a door.
This profligate wretch, Waller, to robbery added the still greater sin of
accusing the innocent, in order to receive the reward in certain cases attending
conviction. The abominable dealer in human blood was tried at the Old Bailey for
robbing, on the highway, one John Edglin, and afterwards, under the name of John
Trevor, giving a false evidence against the said John Edglin, whereby his life might
have become forfeited to the abused laws of the country. On the latter charge he was
found guilty.
It appeared, on this memorable trial, that Waller made it a practice to go the
circuits as regularly as the judges and counsel, and to swear robberies against such as
he deemed fit objects for his purpose, from no other motive than to obtain the reward
given by each county for the apprehension and conviction of criminals for highway
robberies and other offences therein committed.
The sentence of the Court was, that he should pay a fine of twenty marks, and
be imprisoned for the term of two years, and at the expiration thereof to find good and
sufficient security for his good behaviour during the remainder of his life; that he do
stand twice in and upon the pillory, bareheaded, with his crime written in large
characters; and that he do also stand twice before the pillory, likewise bareheaded, one
hour each time.
On Tuesday, the 13th of June, 1732, this wicked man was put in the pillory,
pursuant to his sentence, at the Seven Dials, in London; where, so great was the
indignation of the populace, that they pelted him to death and the day after the
coroner's inquest gave a verdict, 'Wilful murder by persons unknown.'
ELY HATTON
Murderer, executed at Gloucester, August, 1732
IN the account given of the case of this man, which has not been republished,
or commented upon, since the time of his conviction, we find no interested cause for
perpetrating the horrid crime.
Ely Hatton was indicted at the assizes held at Gloucester, in August, 1732,for
the wilful murder of Thomas Turberville, a carpenter. It was given in evidence, that
on the 29th of April preceding, the deceased was found in his work-shop, with his
brains dashed out, and his scull chopped in pieces with a broad axe, which lay near his
body, covered with blood. Suspicion falling upon Hatton, he was apprehended, having
made no effort to evade justice. The proof against him was little more than
circumstantial. It appeared, in., evidence, that when the prisoner, was apprehended, he
wore a shirt and pair of stockings, the property of the deceased; his coat was stained
with blood, and many other circumstances were adduced, which left no doubts in the
minds of the jury. The accused acknowledged that he had been in company with the
deceased, on the evening of his death, that he went with him to a certain eminence
near the town, to view some deer, and there they parted, that the shirt he had on, when
apprehended, was his brother's; but this was a falsehood, and alone sufficient to fix
guilt upon him. He called one witness in his behalf, who served only to tend to his
conviction; for this witness declared, that he verily believed him guilty of the murder,
The prisoner's defence also varied from account on his examination before a justice of
peace, when he declared that the shirt in question belonged to his father.
As no farther light was thrown upon the circumstances attending the murder of
Turberville, it may be fairly presumed, notwithstanding the proof was not positive,
that Hatton justly underwent the sentence of the law.
The editor, however, recollects a story, but he cannot state the names of the
parties, where an innocent man suffered in France, on a charge of murder, and which
will, at all events, caution jurymen, when sitting on the life or death of a fellow-
creature, to be extremely guarded in giving their verdict of guilty upon circumstantial
evidence alone. A gentleman was found murdered in his own house, and by his own
sword. Some persons, coming to the house just after the barbarous deed had been
committed, were shocked at seeing his servant man, in great consternation running
out, with a bloody sword in his hand. So great was his agitation, that he gave an
incoherent account of the transaction, and was secured. A surgeon was sent for, who
found the master dead, and comparing the wound with the sword, declared that the
weapon, or one exactly similar, caused his death. This, with the proof that there had
been quarrels between the deceased and the prisoner, was the evidence given on the
trial; and he was found guilty, and executed. Some years afterwards, a late neighbour
of the murdered man lay on his death-bed, and when his confessor came to
administer, what Catholics calls, the extreme unction,* he confessed that having had a
dispute with him, he entered his house privately, and in revenge, killed him, as
already has been described.
[*Note: This ceremony of the Catholic faith is thus performed. A priest, when
summoned for that purpose, forms a procession, consisting of an oblong canopy of
cloth, borne by four of the inferior clergy, under which he walks preceded by a boy
bare-headed, tinkling a little bell; at the sound of which passengers prepare to pay it
due respect. They kneel down as it passes them, cross their foreheads, and touch their
breasts, repeating a prayer, Arrived at the dying person's abode, the priest receives
their confessions, and then, for a small gratuity, absolves them of their sins, and
declares, that their souls will be received in heaven. A happy religion, for those who
can have faith in such superstition!!]
ELEANOR BEARE
(A very curious and wicked case.)
IN our dreadful catalogue of crimes, committed by man upon his fellow-
creatures, none is attended with more pernicious consequences to society than that
which we now, and with much reluctance, are about to describe. The hope that this
relation will cause every female to reflect with detestation on a wretch who could
make such murderous practices a kind of business alone determines us to give a place
to the case of this abandoned woman.
On the 15th of August, 1732, Eleanor Beare, wife of Ebenezer Beare, of the
town of Derby, labourer, was tried before a most crowded court, for procuring
abortion in women. We forbear following the reporter of this trial through the
evidence adduced against the prisoner; let it therefore suffice to quote the speech of
the counsel for the prosecution on opening the case, which was as follows:
"Gentlemen of the Jury,
"You have heard the indictment read, and may observe that this
misdemeanour, for which the prisoner stands indicted, is of a most shocking nature.
To destroy the fruit in the womb, carries something in it so contrary to the natural
tenderness of the female sex, that I am amazed however any woman should arrive at
such a degree of impiety and cruelty, as to attempt it in such a manner as the prisoner
has done. It has really something so shocking in it, that I cannot well display the
nature of the crime to you, but must leave it to the evidence. It is cruel and barbarous
to the last degree and attended with the greatest danger to whoever it is practised
upon."
It was proved that this dangerous woman had not only procured abortion in
different women, but even persuaded a man named Nicholas Wilson, upon having a
quarrel with his wife, to poison her; and for this purpose gave him a deadly powder,
which the man, more humane, instead of administering, dug a hole in the earth, and
buried it.
The learned judge before whom she was tried was greatly moved in summing
up the evidence, and giving charge to the jury. He declared that he never met with a
case so barbarous and unnatural. She was sentenced to close imprisonment for the
term of three years, and to stand in and upon the pillory, on the two next market days
of the town of Derby.
Pursuant to this sentence, she was exposed in the pillory three days afterwards,
being the next market-day, when the populace impressed their indignation, by pelting
her with rotten eggs, and any filth they could collect; and she might with her life have
expiated her crimes, had she not, in struggling, disengaged herself, and jumped among
the crowd, from whose fury the Sheriff's officers, with great difficulty, rescued her.
The next week she was again brought out of prison, and again pilloried. As soon as
she mounted the platform, she kneeled down and begged mercy of the still outrageous
mob. The executioner finding, from her struggling, some difficulty in getting her head
through the hole of the pillory, pulled off her head-dress, and therein found a large
pewter plate, beat out so as to fit her head, which he threw among the, spectators. As
soon as she was fixed, a shower of eggs, potatoes, turnips, &c. assailed her front every
direction; and it was thought she would not be taken down alive. Having expended all
the ammunition of the above description, stones were thrown, which wounded her to
such a degree,, that her blood streamed down the pillory.. This somewhat, appeased
the resentment shewn against her, and she was returned to gaol a shocking spectacle
to behold.
This remarkable case, with those immediately preceding, viz —- Hatton's
Waller's, Hewit's, Smith's, Irwin's, and Clarke's, were never before regularly reported.
JOSEPH POWIS
Strolling player turned housebreaker, executed 9th October, 1732
The sexton frightened by Powis
JOSEPH Powis was a native of St. Martin's in the Fields; and his father dying
while he was an infant, his mother married a smith in St. Martin's Lane, who was
remarkable for his ingenuity.
The father-in-law going to Harfleur, in Normandy, with many other skilful
artists, to be concerned in an iron manufactory, took Powis with him when he was
only eight years of age.
They had not been long here before the father-in-law received a letter,
advising him of the death of his wife; on which he left the boy to the care of an
Englishman, and came to London in order to settle his affairs, but soon returned to
Normandy.
The scheme in which they had embarked failing, they came back to England,
and the man, marrying a second wife, took a shop in Chancery Lane, London, and
sent young Powis to school, where he made such progress, that a little time gave hope
of his becoming a good Latin scholar.
But he had not been long at school before his father-in-law took him home, to
instruct him in his own business; and hence his misfortunes appear to have arisen; for
such was his attachment to literature, that, when he was sent of an errand, he
constantly loitered away his time reading at the stall of some bookseller.
When he had been about four years with his father, two lads of his
acquaintance persuaded him to take a stroll into the country, and they wandered
through the villages adjacent to London for about a week, in a condition almost
starving, sometimes begging food to relieve the extremities of hunger, and finally
compelled by distress to return to town.
The father-in-law of Powis received him kindly, forgave his fault, and he
continued about a year longer with him; but, having read a number of plays, he had
imbibed such romantic notions as disqualified him for business.
Inspired with an idea of going on the stage, he offered his services to Mr.
Rich, then manager of Covent Garden Theatre; but, having repeated some parts of the
tragedy of Julius Caesar, Rich told him he was disqualified for the stage, and advised
him to attend to his trade.
Soon after this Powis a second time quitted his father-in-law, and rambled
through the country some days; but returning on a Sunday, in the absence of the
family, he broke open a chest, and, taking out his best clothes, again decamped.
Nothing being missed except the boy's clothes, it was easily judged who must
be the thief; wherefore the father-in-law went with a constable in search of the youth,
whom he took before a magistrate, in the hope of making him sensible of his folly.
The justice threatening to commit him unless he 'made a proper submission, he
promised to go home and do so; but, dropping his father-in-law in the street, he went
to an acquaintance, to whom he communicated his situation, and asked his advice how
to act. His friend advised him to go home, and discharge his duty; but this not suiting
his inclination, and it being now the time of Bartholomew Fair, he engaged with one
Miller to act a part in a farce exhibited at Smithfield.
His next adventure was the going to Dorking, in Surrey, with one Button, a
strolling player, by whom he was taught to expect great things; but Button, having
previously affronted the inhabitants, met with no encouragement; on which they
proceeded to Horsham, in Sussex, where they were equally unsuccessful.
Powis now slept in a hay-loft, near the kitchen of an inn, and, being almost
starved, he used to get in at the window and steal the victuals while the family were in
bed. He likewise stole a new pair of shoes belonging to the landlord; but the latter,
soon discovering the thief, took the shoes from him, and gave him an old pair instead.
About this time Button took Powis's clothes from him, and gave him others
that were little better than rags.
Having left this town, they put up at an inn, where the landlord obliged the
company to sleep in the hay loft, admitting none but the manager to come within the
house. At night Powis crept into the kitchen, devoured the remains of a cold pie, and
stole a pair of boots and a pair of stockings, with which he retreated into the hay-loft.
He continued to steal provisions several nights, till the landlord and Button watched,
with loaded guns, in expectation of the thief, who, however, came not that night.
Powis, having obtained a few halfpence by one of his petty thefts, stole out
from the hay-loft to drink at a public house; but the other landlord, being there, knew
the boots to be his; on which our unfortunate adventurer hastily retreated to his loft,
where he expected to lie secure; but the landlord, Button, and others, following him,
seized him, and took him into the kitchen for examination. He readily confessed that
he had stolen the victuals; on which he was delivered into the custody of two
countrymen to guard him till the next day, when it was proposed to take him before a
magistrate.
The family having retired to bed, Powis pretended to fall fast asleep; on which
one of his guards said, 'How the poor fellow rests, notwithstanding his misfortunes;' to
which the other said, 'Let me sleep an hour, and then I will watch while you sleep.'
In a few minutes both the men were asleep; on which Powis, thinking to
escape, attempted to put on the boots; but, making some noise, the landlord heard
him, and, coming downstairs, Powis affected to slumber as before. The landlord
awakened the guardians, and bade them take more care of their prisoner; which
having promised to do, they soon fell asleep again.
Our adventurer now took the boots in his hand, and, getting out of the inn-
yard, ran with the utmost expedition till he got out of the town, and then drawing on
the boots, he proceeded on his journey to London. However, he missed his way, and,
getting on a common, knew not how to proceed; but going into a cow-house, in which
was a quantity of flax, he lay down to rest. In the morning the owner of the flax found
him, and inquiring what business he had there, Powis said that, being intoxicated, he
had lost his way: on which the other directed him into the right road, and our hero
hastened forward, in the apprehension of being pursued.
Towards evening be arrived near Dorking, but did not enter the town till it was
nearly dark. As he was going through the street he heard a door open; and, turning
round, a woman, who had a candle in her hand, called him; and, on his demanding
what she wanted, she said to another woman, 'Sure enough it is he.'
This woman, who had washed the players' linen, said that two men had been in
pursuit of him; and that his best way would be to avoid the high road, and get to
London some other way with all possible expedition.
Powis immediately took this advice, and, quitting the turnpike-road, got to a
farm-house, where he stole some books and other trifles, ate some provisions, and
then proceeded towards London, stopping at Stockwell, at a house kept by the mother
of his father-in-law's wife. All this happened in the night; but, knowing the place, he
went into the back yard, and lay down to sleep on some straw.
Observing several threshers come to work in the morning, he concealed
himself under the straw till night, when he crept out, went to a public house, drank
some beer, and returned to his former lodging.
Inspired by the liquor he had drank, he began to sing, which drawing some
people round him, they conducted him into the house.
His mother-in-law, happening to be there on a visit, spoke with great kindness
to him, and advised him to remain there till she had communicated the affair to her
husband.
In a few days the father-in-law came to him, and expressed his readiness to
take him home, if he would but attend his business, and decline his present vagrant
course of life. This he readily agreed to do, and continued steady during the winter;
but on the approach of summer he again left his friends, and rambled about near a
month, subsisting on the casual bounty of his acquaintance.
Falling into company with Joseph Paterson, whom he had known among the
strolling players, Paterson engaged him to perform a part in the tragedy of 'The Earls
of Essex,' at Windmill Hill, near Moorfields, which was then the place of resort for the
lower class of spouters in and near London.
The part of Lord Burleigh being assigned to Powis, and it being intimated in
the printed bills that this part was to be performed by 'A young gentleman, being his
first appearance on the stage,' the curiosity of the public was somewhat excited, so
that there was a full house. Unfortunately, Lord Burleigh was dressed in the shabbiest
manner; and, being little better than a compound of rags and dirt, it was with some
difficulty the minister of state went through his part, amidst the laughter and ridicule
of the spectators.
Returning home through Ludgate Street, after the play, he saw a gentleman
who said he had dropped three guineas, but had picked up one of them. Powis,
happening to find the other two, kept one for himself, and gave the other to the owner,
who, not knowing that he had retained one, insisted on his drinking a glass of wine,
and thanked him for his civility.
Being stopped one night in Chancery Lane by a violent shower of rain, he
climbed over a gate, and got under the shelter of a pent-house belonging to the Six
Clerks' Office, where he remained till morning, when the clerks came to their
business, and he was then afraid to appear, lest he should be taken for a thief from the
shabbiness of his dress.
Leaning against a plastered wall, part of it broke; but, as the place he stood in
was very dark, no one observed it; on which he resolved to profit by the accident; in
consequence of this, he, at night, made the breach wider, and got into the office,
whence he stole six guineas, and about fifty shillings in silver.
Having spent this money, he determined to join his old companions on
Windmill Hill; and, in his way thither, he observed a fellow pick a countryman's
pocket of a bag of money in Smithfield; and a cry of 'Stop thief!' being immediately
circulated, the pickpocket dropped the bag, which Powis took up unobserved, and,
retiring to a public house, examined its contents, which he found to amount to above
fifty pounds.
Having put the money in his pocket, he threw away the bag, and retired to his
lodgings. This money, a greater sum than he had ever before possessed, was soon
spent in extravagance, and he was again reduced to great extremities.
Thus distressed, he got into the area of a coffee-house in Chancery Lane, and
attempted to force the kitchen window but, not succeeding, he secreted himself in the
coal-cellar till the following evening, when he got into the house, and hid himself in a
hole behind the chimney.
When the family was gone to rest, he stole some silver spoons, and about three
shillings' worth of half pence from the bar, and, having now fasted thirty hours, he ate
and drank heartily; but, hearing a person come downstairs, he pulled off his shoes,
and, retiring hastily, got into a hole where broken glass was kept, by which his feet
were cut in a shocking manner.
It happened to be only the maid-servant who came downstairs; and, going into
the kitchen, Powis put on his shoes, and ran through the coffee-room into the street.
Being again reduced, he broke into the Chancery Office, where be stole about
four pounds ten shillings, which being spent, he looked out for a fresh supply. Going
to St. Dunstan's Church, at the time of morning prayers, he hid himself in the gallery
till night, and then stole some of the prayer-books, which he proposed to have carried
off the next morning, when the sexton appeared, who, being more terrified than the
thief, ran to procure the assistance of another man; but in the mean time Powis bad so
secreted himself that they could not find him after a search of two hours; they
therefore at length gave it up, concluding that he had got out through one of the
windows. However, he remained in the church all that day, and at the hour of prayer
next morning went off with as many books as produced him a guinea.
On the following night he visited an acquaintance in Ram Alley, Fleet Street,
where he observed a woman deposit some goods in a room, the door of which she
fastened with a padlock. On this be concealed himself in the cellar till towards
morning, when he opened the padlock with a crooked nail, and stole two gold rings
and a guinea, being baulked in his expectation of a much more valuable prize.
One of the prayer-books which he had stolen from St. Dunstan's Church he
sold to a bookseller in the Strand; and, while the lady who had lost it was inquiring at
the bookseller's if such a book had fallen into his hands, Powis happened to stop to
speak with a gentleman at the door; on which the bookseller said, 'There is the man
who sold it me!' and the lady replied, 'He is a thief, and has stolen it!'
The bookseller, calling Powis into his shop, asked if he had sold him that
book, which he acknowledged; and, being desired to recollect how he had obtained it,
he said he could not; on which the bookseller threatened to have him committed to
prison; but the lady, now earnestly looking at him, asked if his name was Powis. He
said it was; on which she burst into tears, and said, 'I am sorry for you, and for your
poor father; you are the cause of all his unhappiness.' The bookseller, happening
likewise to know Powis's father, delivered the book to the lady, and permitted the
young thief to depart, on promise to pay for it on the following day: but the day of
payment never came.
A few nights after this he climbed up the sign-post belonging to a pastry-cook
in Fleet Street, and got in at a chamber-window, whence he descended into the shop;
but, not finding any money in the till, stole only two or three old books, and filled his
pockets with tarts, with which he decamped.
Calling some days afterwards at the same shop to buy a tart, he found the
people of the house entertaining themselves with the idea of the disappointment the
thief had met with: and a lady who lodged in the house produced her gold watch,
saying she supposed that had been the object of his search.
This circumstance encouraged him to make another attempt; wherefore, on the
following night, he again ascended the sign-post, and got in at the window; but
hearing a person coming downstairs without shoes, he got back to the sign-post,
descended, and ran off. He was instantly pursued, but escaped through the darkness of
the night.
Chagrined at this disappointment, he sauntered into the fields, and lay down
under a hay-rick. He slumbered awhile; but, being distressed in mind, he imagined he
heard a voice crying, 'Run, run, fly for your life; for you are pursued, and if you are
taken you will be hanged.' He started with wild affright, and large drops of sweat ran
down his face, occasioned by the agitation of his mind.
Finding that he had only been disturbed by a dream, he again lay down; but
the stings of his conscience continuing to goad him, he dreamt that a person came to
him, saying, 'Young man, you must go away from hence; for, were I to suffer you to
remain here, I should expect a judgment to fall on me: so go away, or I will fetch a
constable, who shall oblige you to go.' Being again terrified, he walked round the hay-
rick, calling out 'Who is there?' but receiving no answer, he lay down once more, and
dreamt that his father-in-law stood by him, and spoke as follows:— 'O son! will you
never take warning till justice overtakes you? The time will come when you will wish,
but too late, that you had been warned by me.'
Unable now to sleep, through the agonies of his mind, he wandered about till
morning, and had formed a resolution of returning to his father-in-law; but as he was
going to him he met an old acquaintance, who paid him a debt of a few shillings; and,
going to drink with him, Powis soon forgot the virtuous resolutions he bad formed.
On parting from this acquaintance he went to the house of another, where he
slept five hours; and then, being extremely hungry, went to a public house, where he
supped, and spent all his money, except eightpence.
Thus reduced, he resolved to make a fresh attempt on the Chancery Office, for
which purpose he broke through the wall, but found no booty.
In the mean time his father-in-law exerted his utmost endeavours to find him,
to consult his safety; and, having met with him, told him it would be imprudent for
him to stay longer in London, as people began to be suspicious of him: wherefore he
advised him to go to Cambridge, and work as a journeyman with a smith of his
acquaintance.
Young Powis consenting, the father bought him new clothes, furnished him
with some good books, and gave him money to proceed on his journey. He now left
the old gentleman; but soon afterwards meeting with six strolling players, one of
whom he had formerly known, they sat down to drinking; at which they continued till
all Powis's money was spent, and then he sold his new clothes.
Our young adventurer now became so hardened in guilt that there appeared no
prospect of his reformation. One Sunday morning early he attempted to break open
the house of a baker in Chancery Lane; but the family being alarmed, he was obliged
to decamp without his booty, though not without being known. This affair coming to
the knowledge of the father, he commissioned some friends to tell the boy, if they
should meet him, that he was still ready to receive him with kindness, if he would
mend his conduct.
Powis, being now very much distressed, applied to his still generous relation,
who advised him to go to the West Indies, as the most effectual method of being out
of danger; and he promised to furnish him with necessaries for the voyage.
Accepting the offer, Powis was properly fitted out, and sent on board a ship in
the river, where he was confined in the bold, to prevent his escaping. In a day or two
afterwards he was allowed the liberty of the ship; but most of the seamen now going
on shore to take leave of their friends, he resolved to seize the opportunity of making
his escape, and of taking some thing of value with him.
Waiting till it was night, he broke open a chest belonging to a passenger, and,
having stolen a handsome suit of clothes, he took the opportunity of the people on
watch going to call others to relieve them; and, dropping down the side of the ship,
got into a boat; but, having only a single oar, he was unable to steer her;, and, after
striving a considerable time, was obliged to let her drive; the consequence of which
was, that she ran on shore below Woolwich.
Quitting the boat, he set off towards London; but near Deptford he met with
two men, who asked him to sell his wig; on which he went to a public house with
them, where they told him that a friend of theirs had been robbed of such a wig, and
they suspected him to be the robber. Powis saw through the artifice, and, calling the
landlord, desired that a constable might be sent for to take the villains into custody;
but the men immediately threw down their reckoning, and ran off in the utmost haste.
Our adventurer, proceeding to London, changed his clothes, and took to his
former practice of housebreaking; in which, however, he was remarkably
unsuccessful. Strolling one night to the house where he had formerly been at
Stockwell, he got in at the window, and stole a bottle of brandy, a groat coat, and
some other articles; but the family being alarmed, he was pursued and taken.
As be was known to the people of the house, they threatened to convey him to
the ship; but be expressed so much dread at the consequence, that they conducted him
to his father-in-law, whose humanity once more induced him to receive the returning
prodigal with kindness.
Powis now lived regularly at home about nine weeks, when, having received
about a guinea as Christmas-box money, he got into company, and spent the whole;
after which he renewed his former practices.
Having concealed himself under some hay in a stable in Chancery Lane, be
broke into a boarding-school adjoining to it, whence he stole some books and a
quantity of linen: and, soon after this, he broke into the house of an attorney, and,
getting into a garret, struck a light; but some of the family being alarmed, there was an
outcry of 'Thieves!' A man ascending a ladder being observed by Powis, he attempted
to break through the tiling; but, failing in this, the other cried 'There is the thief!'
Terrified by these words, he got into a gutter, whence he dropped down to a
carpenter's yard adjoining, but could get no farther.
While he was in this situation, the carpenter, going into the yard with a candle,
took him into custody, and lodged him in the roundhouse; but on the following day
his father-in-law exerted himself so effectually, that the offence was forgiven, and he
was once more taken home to the house of this ever-indulgent friend.
After he had been three months at home, the father in-law was employed to do
some business for Mr. Williams, a Welsh gentleman of fortune, who having brought
his lady to London to lie in, she died in child-bed; and it was determined that she
should be buried in Wales. Hereupon Powis's father-in-law was sent for to examine all
the locks, &c. that the effects might be safe in the absence of Mr. Williams.
Our youth, being employed as a journeyman in this business, found a box of
linen that was too full, on which he took out some articles. In removing the linen he
found a small box, remarkably heavy, which, on examination, appeared to contain
diamonds, jewels, rings, a gold watch, and other articles, to the amount of more than
200L., all which he stole, and put the box in its place. This being done, he called the
maid to see that all was safe, and delivered her the key of the larger box.
Being possessed of this booty, Powis consulted an acquaintance as to the
method of disposing of it, who advised him to melt the gold, and throw the jewels into
the Thames, This being agreed upon, the acquaintance kept the jewels; and the gold
being sold for eleven guineas, Powis had seven of them, which he soon squandered
away.
About a fortnight after the effects were stolen Powis was apprehended on
suspicion of the robbery, and committed to Newgate; and, being tried at the next
sessions, was sentenced to be transported for seven years; the jury having given a
verdict that he was guilty of stealing to the value of thirty-nine shillings.
He lay in Newgate a considerable time; till at length his father-in-law, after
repeated entreaties, and a promise of a total reformation of manners, made such
interest, that he was burnt in the hand, and set at large.
Yet again was this ungrateful boy taken under his parent's roof, where he
continued about seven months; when, meeting with one of his dissolute companions,
he spent all his money, and was then afraid to return home.
He now refrained some time from acts of theft; and, taking lodgings in an alley
in Fleet Street, subsisted by borrowing money of his acquaintance. Soon afterwards,
however, he broke open a trunk at his lodgings, and stole some linen, which he
pawned for five shillings and sixpence.
On the next day the landlord charged him with the robbery; but, not intending
to prosecute him, was content with recovering his linen from the pawnbrokers, and
took Powis's word for making good the deficient money.
In less than a week after the adjustment of this affair our young, but hardened,
villain broke open the coffee-house in Chancery Lane which we have already
mentioned, and stole a few articles, which produced him about thirty shillings: and
soon afterwards he broke into the Chancery Office, where be stole two books, which
he sold for half a crown.
On the following evening he went again to the office, and hid himself under
the staircase; but, being heard to cough by a man who had been left to watch, be was
taken into custody, and conveyed to a tavern in the neighbourhood, where his father-
in-law attended, and pleaded so forcibly in his behalf, that he was permitted to go
home with him for the night.
On the following day some gentlemen came to examine him, when he denied
the commission of a variety of crimes with which he had been charged; but the
gentlemen, having consented to his escape for this time, advised him not to appear
again in that neighbourhood, as the Masters in Chancery had given strict orders for
prosecuting him.
After receiving some good advice from his father-in-law, he was
recommended to work with a smith in Milford Lane, in the Strand: but Powis had a
brother who called upon him a few days afterwards, and told him that a warrant was
issued to apprehend him for robbing the Chancery, which obliged him to abscond.
Strolling one evening in the Spa Fields, near Islington, some constables
apprehended him as a vagrant, and lodged him, with several others, in New Prison;
and on the following day most of the prisoners were discharged by a magistrate, and
Powis was ordered to be set at liberty; but, not having money to pay his fees, he was
taken back to the prison, where he remained a few days longer, and was then set at
liberty by the charity of a gentleman, who bade him 'thank God, and take care never to
get into trouble again.'
In a short time after his discharge he broke into the Earl of Peterborough's
house at Chelsea, and stole some trifling articles from the kitchen, which he sold for
four shillings; and on the following night he robbed another house in the same
neighbourhood of some effects, which he sold for ten shillings.
This trifling sum being soon spent, he broke open a house in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, where he got a considerable quantity of money; and, to prevent persons who
knew him from suspecting that be was the thief, he forged a letter, as coming from his
grandfather in Yorkshire, purporting that he had sent him such a sum.
In a short time afterwards, at a kind of ball given by one of his companions to
celebrate his birthday, Powis fell in love with a girl who made one of the company.
The girl paying no attention to his addresses, Powis waited on her mother, and,
after some conversation with her, was permitted to pay his personal respects to the
daughter, to whom he pretended that his grandfather in Yorkshire would leave him a
large sum of money; and, in proof of what he said, he showed her some counterfeit
letters, appearing to have the postmark on them.
The girl made no objection to him as a husband; but said it would be prudent
in him to visit his grandfather, and ask his consent to the match, which would
contribute to her peace of mind. On this he left her, and broke open a house that
evening, whence he stole a few things, which he sold for fifteen shillings, and, calling
on her the next day, took his leave, as if preparing for his journey.
His plan was to commit some robbery by which he might obtain a
considerable sum, and then, concealing himself for some time, return to his mistress,
and pretend that his grandfather had given him the money.
Going to see 'The Beggars' Opera,' he was greatly shocked at the appearance
of Macheath on the stage in fetters, and could not forbear reflecting what might he his
own future fate; yet about a week afterwards he broke open a cook's shop, and stole
some articles, the sale of which produced him a guinea.
On the following day he called at Newgate, treated the prisoners to the amount
of seven shillings, and, on his quitting the prison, met two girls whom he knew; and
with them he went to Hampstead, where he treated them to the amount of twelve
shillings and sixpence; so that only eighteen pence remained of his last ill-gotten
guinea.
On the following day Powis went to the Black Raven, in Fetter Lane, where he
observed the landlord put some gold into a drawer, of which be determined, if
possible, to possess himself. About midnight he went away, having first stolen the pin
that fastened the cellar-window.
Returning at two in the morning, he got into the cellar, and attempted to open
the door of the tap room; but, failing in this, he was about to return by the way he had
entered, when a watchman coming by, and seeing the window open, alarmed the
family. Powis now escaped into a carpenter's yard, and hid himself: but the landlord
coming down, and several persons attending, be was apprehended; not, however, till
one person had run a sword through his leg, and another struck him a blow on the
head that almost deprived him of his senses; circumstances of severity which could
not be justified, as he made no resistance.
The offender was lodged in the Compter for the present, and, being removed
to Newgate, was brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, convicted of the burglary, and
received sentence of death. The jury, considering the cruelty with which he had been
treated, recommended him to mercy: however, the royal favour was not extended to
him, as he had before been sentenced to transportation.
When brought up to receive sentence, be begged to be represented as an object
worthy of the royal lenity; but was told not to expect such indulgence. He likewise
wrote to his sweetheart to exert her influence, which she promised, but could do
nothing to serve him.
He was hanged at Tyburn on the 9th of October, 1732, along with William
Shelton, at the age of twenty-two years, after admonishing the spectators to take
warning by his fatal end, and expressing the utmost detestation of the irregularities of
his life.
The case of this malefactor will afford a very striking lesson to youth. In the
former part of his life we see the miserable situation of a strolling player; and surely
the distresses he encountered will be deemed enough to terrify thoughtless young
men, who are fond of what is called spouting, from engaging in this vagrant course of
life.
The terrors of Powis's conscience when be lay down to sleep under the hay-
rick show that there is no peace to the wicked. One self-approving hour, the
consequence of having discharged our duty, must afford more solid satisfaction than
whole months spent in that riot and debauchery which may be purchased with ill-
gotten wealth.
Nothing, surely, can be equal to the goodness with which Powis was treated by
his father-in-law. His kindness appears to have been almost without example, and
what could scarcely have been expected even from a real parent.
This offender, then, sinned against all advice, all warning, all indulgence: but
we trust his fate will have a forcible effect on young people who may read this
narrative. We hope it will, in a particular manner, teach them the necessity of duty to
their parents; and that the only way to be happy in advanced life is to be virtuous and
religious while they are young.
WILLIAM SHELTON
Executed at Tyburn, October 9, 1732, for highway robbery.
WILLIAM SHELTON was born of respectable parents near Cheshunt in
Hertfordshire, and received a liberal education in the learned languages. At a proper
age he was apprenticed to an apothecary at Enfield; but his master applied to his
father to take him back at the end of two years, as his conduct was so irregular that he
did not choose any further connection with him.
In consequence hereof he was placed with an apothecary at Stoke Newington;
and, though he still kept gay company, he served six years with a fair character.
About this time he became violently enamoured of his mistress's sister, who
was by no means insensible to his addresses. She lived in the family; but no person
suspected their intimacy, till the mistress accidentally heard her sister freely represent
to Shelton the disagreeable consequence that must arise from keeping bad company
and late hours.
Shelton's master and his wife both disapproved of the intended match, on
account of his keeping too much gay company; and his own parents objected to it
from the same reason, wishing him to acquire greater steadiness of mind before he
married.
When his seven years were complete, he took leave of the young lady with
professions of lasting love; and his father having supplied him with money, he
engaged in business, and was for some time greatly successful; but his immoderate
attachment to pleasure lost him much of his business and many of his friends.
He had not been long in trade before he became enamoured of a young lady,
daughter of a widow in his neighbourhood; and having made an acquaintance with
her, unknown to her mother, he conveyed her out of a back window of the house, and
married her at the Fleet. So soon had he forgot his vows to the former lady!
The father of the bride having been a citizen of London, her fortune had been
deposited in the hands of the chamberlain, who readily paid it to the husband.
Shelton was still in considerable business; but his attachment to company was
such that his expenses exceeded his income; so that he grew daily poorer; and his
father dying about this time, left all his fortune to his widow, for her life; so that
Shelton had nothing to expect till after the death of his mother.
He now made acquaintance with some people of abandoned character, and
took to a habit of gaming, by which his circumstances became still more embarrassed,
and he was obliged to decline business after he had followed it only two years.
Thus distressed, he entered as surgeon on board a ship bound to Antigua, and
was received with such singular tokens of respect by the inhabitants of the island, that
he resolved to settle there as a surgeon, and write to England for his wife to come over
to him; but an unfortunate circumstance prevented the carrying of this scheme into
execution.
In the island of Antigua it is customary to exercise the militia weekly, when
the officers on duty treat their brethren in rotation, and invite what company they
please. Mr. Shelton being invited by Colonel Ker, the latter gave a generous treat, and
urged his friends to drink freely. On the approach of night, some of them would have
gone home; but the colonel prevailed on them to stay till the next day, hinting that it
might be dangerous to meet some negroes who had quitted the plantation.
Shelton agreed, among, others, to stay: but he had not been long in bed, when
the liquor he had drank occasioned the most excruciating pain in his bowels. The next
morning he took some medicines to abate the pain, and the end was answered for the
present; but he determined to embark for England, as he thought he felt the symptoms
of an approaching consumption.
Hereupon he sailed for his native country, and arrived to the surprise of his
friends, who had been taught to expect that he would continue in Antigua. They,
however, advised him to settle at Buntingford, in Hertfordshire, where there was a
vacancy occasioned by the death or an apothecary. Shelton, having inquired into the
affair, and finding no prospect worth his notice, his wife's mother persuaded him to
take a house at Brassin, a village near Buntingford, intimating that she would live
with him, and be at the expense of housekeeping. This proposal was accepted; but
when the leases were drawn, the old lady refused to execute them, so that Shelton was
obliged to abandon his agreeable prospect, in a way that appeared not very reputable
to himself.
Distressed in mind, and not knowing how to support himself, he determined to
commence highwayman; and having hired a horse, and furnished himself with pistols,
he rode to Finchley Common; but after looking out some hours, and meeting with no
booty there, he returned towards London, in his way to which he took about thirty
shillings from four ladies, whom he stopped in a coach; and he obtained three
shillings and sixpence from a gentleman he met on the road.
He now put on a mask; and, thus disguised, robbed the passengers in three
stage-coaches on Epping Forest of their watches and money: Some persons on
horseback immediately pursued him, and were very near him at Waltham Abbey, but
taking a different road, he went round by Cheshunt, and escaped to London, where he,
the next day, heard that his pursuers had galloped after him to Enfield.
The watches he sold to a Jew, and having spent the money, he rode out to
Hounslow Heath, where he demanded a gentleman's money, and, after some
hesitation on the part of the latter, robbed him of thirty-two guineas and some silver.
This done, he crossed the Thames to Richmond, where he dined, and afterwards
stopped two ladies, in a coach, on Putney Common, but got no booty from them, as
they had just before been robbed by another highwayman.
On the same evening he robbed a Quaker of nine pounds; and, early on the
following morning, he stopped the Northampton stage, and robbed the passengers of
twenty-seven pounds. The reason for these rapid robberies was, that he had a debt to
discharge which he had contracted at the gaming table, which being done, he appeared
among his former companions as before.
Soon after this he rode towards Chiswick, in the hope of meeting a colonel in
the army but as the gentleman knew him, he was apprehensive, of being recollected
by his voice, though he wore a mask. The colonel seeing a man masked coming
forward, produced a pistol, and on the other coming up, fired at him, and grazed the
skin of his horse's shoulder. Shelton now fired, and wounded the colonel's horse, on
which the colonel discharged his other pistol, but without effect. Hereupon the
highwayman demanded his money, which having received, to the amount of about
50l., he took a circuit round the country, and came into London at night.
On the week following this robbery, he obtained a booty of ten guineas, some
silver, and two gold watches, on Finchley Common; but, being pursued by some
gentlemen on horseback, he concealed himself on Enfield Chace, and having eluded
his pursuers, he rode to London, but in his way robbed a gentleman and lady of
between thirty and forty shillings, on Muswell Hill.
On the following evening he took a ride, but did not rob any person; but; on
his return through Islington, he heard somebody cry out, "Stop the highwayman!" On
which he rode hastily up a lane, where his horse had nearly stuck fast in a slough; but,
getting through it, he stopped in a field, and saw his pursuers waiting in expectation of
him. He, therefore, made a circle, and got down Goswell-street, to the end of Old-
street, where he again heard the cry of, "A highwayman!" on which he rode to Dog-
House-Bar, and escaped by the way of Moorfields.
Soon after this he rode to Enfield Chace, and putting on a mask, robbed one of
the northern stages, while the driver was watering his horses at a pond. Some men
who were playing at skittles seeing this robbery, surrounded his horse; but, on his
firing a pistol, they ran away, and he pursued his journey to London.
Having one day committed a robbery on the Hertford road, he was returning to
town, when he overtook two farmers, who had been drinking at an alehouse till they
were valiant, and were wishing to meet Mr. Shelton, whom they would certainly take:
and they wondered how people could permit him to proceed unmolested. On which
Shelton presented his pistol, and they delivered their money, with every sign of fear;
the money was but trifling, which he returned, laughing at them for their assumed
courage
His next robbery was on Finchley common, where he took several watches,
and sixteen pounds, from the company in the Northampton stage; and the name of
Shelton was now become so eminent, that many other robbers courted his
acquaintance; among whom were two men who had formed a design of robbing the
turnpike-man on Stamford Hill, but had not resolution to carry their plan into
execution.
This design was no sooner mentioned to Shelton, than he agreed to be
concerned: whereupon they went on foot from London at ten o'clock at night; but
before they reached the spot, Shelton's companions relented, and would go no farther;
on which they came to town, in their way to which they robbed a gentleman of a few
shillings; but Shelton determined to have no farther connection with these people.
His next robbery was on two gentlemen in a chaise, both of them armed with
pistols, in the road from Hounslow, from whom he took 16l. and soon after this, being
destitute of cash, and determined to make a bold attempt, he robbed several coaches
one evening, and acquired booty of 90l. exclusive of rings and watches.
In consequence of these repeated robberies, a proclamation was issued for
taking Shelton into custody, wherein was given a minute description of his person; on
which he concealed himself some time in Herefordshire; but he had not long been
there, before a person who recollected him informed a neighbouring magistrate, on
which he was taken into custody, and conveyed to London.
He was tried at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, for several robberies in
Middlesex, and being convicted, he was sentenced to die.
While in prison he affected great gaiety of disposition, and was fond of
entertaining his visitors with the history of his exploits. At times indeed, he would be
more serious; but he soon recurred to his former volatility.
On the arrival of the warrant for his execution, he seemed greatly agitated, and
it was remarked that he shed some tears; but having recourse to the bottle, he
dissipated those ideas that had given him uneasiness. At the place of execution he
refused to perform the customary devotions.
ISAAC AND THOMAS HALLAM
Murderers and Highwaymen, hanged in Lincolnshire, 20th of February,
1733, upon the Spot where they committed their Crime
ISAAC AND THOMAS HALLAM were brothers, who had long, with too
much success, carried on a series of daring robberies, and perpetrated cruel murders,
insomuch that Government offered a reward for their apprehension. They were at
length taken, and charged with the murder of William Wright, a youth of only
eighteen years of age, who was found in a post-chaise at Faldingworth Gate, near
Market Rasen, in Lincolnshire, with his head almost severed from his body, covered
over with the seat-cloth, and his pockets rifled. In consequence of the proclamation,
extraordinary search was made after these desperate depredators, but they baffled
their pursuers nearly a month. At length they were taken into custody, and committed
to the jail of the city of Lincoln.
Among their various outrages, they, in mere wantonness, forced a post-boy to
blow his horn, then told him he had sounded his own death-peal, and immediately cut
his throat, as well as that of his horse, and the bodies of the man and the beast were
next morning found close together. From this detestable barbarity, the post-boys of
Lincoln mustered with horns on their entrance into Lincoln, and greeted them with
their loudest blasts; whereupon, now stung with remorse, one of them was observed to
weep.
They were convicted of the murders of William Wright and Thomas Gardner;
and afterwards confessed that they committed, in company with each other, sixty-
three robberies and one murder, exclusive of that for which they were condemned to
die. Yet did these shocking offenders attempt to evade their punishment. They
procured a case-knife, which they notched like a saw, in order to cut off their irons;
and then, with a spike-nail, they began digging through the wall of their prison; but
were detected. In passing to the place of execution of Isaac, which was the spot where
they had murdered the post-boy, this unfortunate brother fell into violent agonies and
perturbation of mind. At the gallows, there being no clergyman to attend them, he
called to one of the spectators to assist him in his devotions, which the good man
readily complied with, and he prayed with much fervency. Thomas was ordered to be
carried farther, to the place where they had murdered Mr Wright, but on his seeing his
brother turned off, and struggling with life, he shrieked out in a dreadful manner. He
then was drawn to Faldingworth Gate, where he died in dreadful agonies of mind.
This execution took place on the 20th of February, 1733.
SARAH MALCOLM
Executed for the Murder of a Wealthy Old Lady in the Inns of Court, 7th of
March, 1733
The Execution of Sarah Malcolm
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 had been
constantly the notorious resort of persons of bad character, she formed connections 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, 3rd of 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 was 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 bedroom, 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 on 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 and 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 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 it was
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 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, 7th of March, 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.
WILLIAM ALCOCK
Who first abandoned, and then murdered, his wife. Executed at
Northampton, March 9, 1733.
This unnatural and cruel man was an inhabitant of the town of Bourn, in
Lincolnshire. He had been married only two years, when he left his wife, who was
afflicted with the palsy, giving out that the cause of absence was in consequence of
having found her in bed with another man. He travelled to Colchester, married again,
and set-up his business, that of a miller, in, which he was successful. He employed a
man of the name of Peck, as his assistant, but upon some words arising between them,
Alcock discharged him, without suffering him to complete the job he had in hand.
Peck replied, "I'll do as good a job for you; for I have heard you have a wife in
Lincolnshire, and I'll travel the kingdom over, till I find her, and send her to you."
Upon this he instantly set out, and bent his course in order to fulfil his threat. He
enquired at every town he came to in Lincolnshire, until he actually found Mrs.
Alcock. In effecting this, he spent nearly two years; and to defray his expenses, he
occasionally stopped for a few days to work: and when his wages were expended in
his travels, he worked again; thus persevering until he had accomplished his
determined purpose. The parish officers of Bourn, who had the maintenance of the
deserted woman to provide, received Peck's information, and despatched two of the
parishioners to Colchester, with whom Alcock entered into a compromise, on the
following conditions: to pay down twenty pounds, and within a month thirty pounds
more; and to fetch away his wife from Bourn. He accordingly arrived there on the 22d
of August, 1732, on a good horse, and a new pillion for his wife to ride on behind
him. He, however, tried every means to induce the officers to keep her, offering a
yearly sum sufficient for that purpose, and observed that, "she was so disagreeable to
him, that he would rather be hanged, than take her again."
Finding his offers all rejected, he set off with her on the 24th, and on the next
day the body of the unfortunate woman was discovered in a ditch under a willow-tree,
near Pilsgate, in the parish of Barnack, in Northamptonshire, and about eight miles
from Bourn. It appeared that she had been strangled with a short cord, which but just
met about her neck; and the pillion was found a little distance from her body. The
murderer immediately proceeded to Colchester; and on the 28th was apprehended by
officers from Bourn, and the next day fully committed to gaol.
Though convicted on the clearest evidence, yet this obdurate man, even to the
last moment of his existence, denied the justice of his sentence; and his behaviour,
daring the short interval allowed prisoners to make their peace with God, evinced the
most shocking depravity. He constantly refused the consolations of devotion, and paid
no attention to the warnings of a clergyman, who at length desisted from farther
exhortations, On the morning of his execution, he drank to intoxication; yet, on
coming out of the prison, he sent for a pint of wine; which being refused him by the
sheriff, he would not get into the cart which waited to convey him to execution, until
the money given for that purpose was returned to him. On the road to the gallows he
sung part of the old song of Robin Hood, adding to each verse, the chorus of derry
down, &c. At intervals he swore, kicked, and spurned, at any person who touched the
cart. When tied up to the fatal tree, he kicked off his shoes, to avoid a well known
proverb; and being told by a person in the cart with him, and who wished, thus late, to
reclaim him, that he had much better read and repent, than thus vilely swear and sing,
he struck the book out of this humane man's hands, damned the spectators, and called
for wine. During the singing of psalms, and reading of prayers, this monster was
employed in talking and nodding to his acquaintance; telling some to remember him;
others to drink to his good journey; and with his last words, he inveighed against the
injustice of his case.
He was hanged at Northampton, amid the groans and detestation of many
thousand spectators.
WILLIAM GORDON
Highwayman, on whose body, after execution, an experiment was made to
bring him to life
THIS malefactor was brought up to the business of a butcher; but for twenty
years previous to his execution, had been a reputed highwayman. He was tried at
Chelmsford for a desperate attack and robbery on Epping-forest, but escaped
conviction by proving an alibi. He brought a number of evidences to prove that he
was in Ireland when this robbery was committed.
William Gordon was convicted at the Old Bailey, of a highway robbery on Mr.
Peters, under-treasurer. of the Temple, between Knightsbridge and Hyde-park corner,
whom he robbed of his hat, wig, watch, and a gold ring; and, being at the time in a
state of intoxication, he was soon apprehended, and had no other plea to offer, but that
he was drunk.
What rendered this criminal's case sufficiently remarkable to find a place in
these volumes, was a report circulated that he had cut his throat, just before he was
carried out to execution, and that a surgeon sewed it up. The cause of this report was
as follows:
Mr. Chovot, a surgeon, having, by frequent experiments on dogs, discovered,
that opening the windpipe, would prevent the fatal consequences of being hanged by
the neck, communicated it to Gordon, who consented to the experiment being made
on him. Accordingly, pretending to take his last leave of him, the surgeon secretly
made an incision in his windpipe; and the effect this produced on the malefactor was,
that when he stopt his mouth, nostrils, and ears, air sufficient to prolong life, issued
from the cavity. When he was hanged, he was observed to retain life, after the others
executed with him were dead. His body, after hanging three quarters of an hour, was
cut down, and carried to a house in Edgware road., where Chovot was in attendance,
who immediately opened a vein, which bled freely, and soon after the culprit opened
his mouth and groaned. He, however, died; but it was the opinion of those present at
the experiment, that had he been cut down only five minutes. sooner, life would have
returned. He suffered along with James Ward and William Keys, for a highway, and
with William Norman, for a street robbery, on the 27th of April, 1733.
A month after the execution of Gordon, John Davis, who had frequently
robbed in company with him, was brought to execution on the same tree from which
Gordon was hanged. Davis feigned himself sick, and entreated the sheriff that he
might not be tied in the cart on his road to Tyburn, and which was humanely granted.
When the executioner was fastening the rope round the neck of John Jones, another
malefactor to be then executed, Davis jumped out of the cart, made his way through
the astonished spectators, and ran over two fields; but being knocked down by a
countryman; he was brought back, tied up, and hanged. He confessed having
committed various daring robberies, along with the notorious old offender Gordon.
[Note: Alibi: This is a common and dangerous defence, yet it seldom succeeds,
from the facility with which the accused can suborn men, hardened like themselves in
scenes of iniquity, to swear the prisoner, at the time when the robbery had been stated
to have been committed, was elsewhere. Too often, however, have prosecutors erred
in the identity of the persons by whom they had been plundered; in which case,
nothing short of a. well substantiated alibi can impeach their evidence.
The writer of this article, excited by the case of two unfortunate young men,
paid his half-crown (a most disgraceful practice) for a seat in the gallery of the Old
Bailey, in order to witness their trial, and to view the effects of an alibi, which he
heard would be set up against the evidence of a gentleman of title, and filling a high
situation in the law. The prosecutor, in this case, was Sir Thomas Davenport; and the
accused, — Smith, who kept the Assembly Rooms, at Kentish Town, near London, at
the time of his apprehension; and — Brown, the son of a widow, the landlady of a
reputable public-house, in Chapel-street, Bedford-row.
In the year 1785, these innocent young men were brought to the bar of that
awful tribunal, in heavy irons, charged with robbing on the highway, Sir Thomas and
Lady Davenport. Sir Thomas, his head covered with his legal wig, on the top of which
was the black patch of the King's Serjeants of the Court of Common Pleas, swore, that
on a certain evening, a few weeks before, at about twilight, on the Uxbridge road, the
prisoners at the bar, one of them mounted on a brown and the other on a grey horse,
stopped his carriage, in which were his lady and himself, and putting them in fear of
their lives, presented pistols, and demanded his money, which he immediately gave
them. Mr. Garrow, then a young counsel, acting in behalf of the prisoners, with much
diffidence to the learned Serjeant, cross-examined Sir Thomas, observing, that human
nature was liable to mistake objects injuring them, especially at the time he was
robbed, and wished him to be positive as to the identity of the prisoners. The witness,
upon this, turned round, and fully viewed them, saying, "As far as a man can swear to
another, the prisoners at the bar robbed me, as I have described."
Lady Davenport was next called, and she also swore to the prisoners. Then
came forward the coachman and footman of Sir Thomas, who corroborated the
evidence of their master and mistress.
Two horses, of the colour described to have been rode by the highwaymen,
were brought to the court yard of the Old Bailey, and sworn to be the same, according
to the best of the belief of the witnesses, on which the prisoners were mounted.
This was the evidence on the part of the crown, a case so strong, that every
casual spectator supposed it would justly warrant the jury in finding the accused
guilty. Being called upon for their defence, they handed up a written statement of their
case, the import of which was, that on the evening of the supposed robbery, they were
at their respective homes. To substantiate this plea, a number of respectable
inhabitants of Kentish-town deposed, that the day of the robbery sworn to, was the
anniversary dinner of a club, of which they were members, held at the house of the
prisoner Smith; that be was attending upon them from the time of dinner until
midnight, and never out of their club-room a single half hour at a time. Four or five
had already sworn to this, adducing the strongest circumstances to corroborate their
testimony, and many more were behind, ready to do the same, when the court
interposed, by observing that the alibi, respecting Smith, was clearly substantiated. In
behalf of Brown proof was also adduced, that he was, on the same evening, serving in
his mother's barroom.
Judge Heath, in summing up the case, observed, that had Sir Thomas remained
in court, he would himself have been convinced, that he was mistaken in the identity
of the prisoners. No imputation, however, could be, thrown upon the evidence farther,
than that all of them were too positive. Sir Thomas, doubtless convinced they were the
men who robbed him, was followed by his lady and their servants; and when we are
told that Smith and Brown were intimate friends, being both publicans, and that they
had sometimes rode out together on horses similar to those sworn to, and which were
actually their own property, there is some reason to excuse the mistake; but it should
be a most serious caution to prosecutors of men, charged with a crime which affects
life, in giving their evidence of the identity of the persons accused.
These young men had borne irreproachable characters, and the miseries
entailed upon them in this world, arising from their being thus innocently arraigned, is
the most melancholy part of this note. Smith sunk into despondency, and soon died.
Brown, also stung with shame, left his aged mother, and went abroad. Had they borne
up against their misfortune, a very few years, their minds might have been fully set at
ease; for the robbers of Sir Thomas Davenport were convicted of another offence, and
in the cells of Newgate, confessed that they, mounted on the same coloured horses,
were the men who robbed him!!!
CAPTAIN JOHN PORTEOUS
Convicted of murder, but murdered by the mob
Porteous lynched by a mob
Few cases have excited more attention than that of Captain Porteous, who was
convicted of murder and sentenced to death but who having rendered himself
obnoxious to the people, was dragged out of prison, and killed by an enraged mob.
The magistrates of Edinburgh, the town in which the riot took place, were fined for
neglect of their duty, and rendered incapable of acting again in any judicial capacity,
and the royal proclamation was issued, in which a large reward was offered for the
apprehension of the murderers, but from such an immense mob as that which seized
Porteous, it was impossible to select any individuals.
John Porteous was born of indigent parents, near the city Edinburgh, who
bound him apprentice to a tailor, with who after the expiration of his apprenticeship,
he worked as journeyman.
Porteous was soon noticed by several reputable gentlemen, as young man of
good address and fine accomplishments, and one whom they entertained a desire to
serve.
It happened at this time, that a gentleman who had been lord provost of
Edinburgh, growing tired of his mistress, wished to disengage himself from her in a
genteel manner: and knowing Porteous to be very poor he proposed his taking her off
his hands by making her his wife. When the proposition was first made to the lady she
rejected in with much disdain, thinking it a great degradation to match with
journeyman tailor; but on the gentleman's promising her a fortune of five hundred
pounds, she consented, and they were married accordingly. Porteous now commenced
master, and met with good success for some time; but being much addicted to
company, he neglected his business; by which means he lost many of his customers.
His wife, in consequence, was obliged to apply to her old friend the provost, to make
some other provision for them.
In Edinburgh there are three companies of men, of twenty-five each, who are
employed to keep the peace, and take up all offenders, whom they keep in custody till
examined by a magistrate. An officer is appointed to each of these companies, whom
they style captain, with a salary of L.80 a year, and a suit of scarlet uniform, which in
that part of the world is reckoned very honourable.
A vacancy happening by the death of one of these captains, the provost
immediately appointed his friend Porteous to fill up the place; who being now
advanced to honour, forgot all his former politeness, for which he was so much
esteemed when a tradesman; and assumed all the consequence of a man in authority.
If a riot happened in the city, Porteous was generally made choice of by the
magistrates to suppress it, he being a man of resolute spirit and unacquainted with
fear. On these occasions he would generally exceed the bounds of his commission,
and would treat the delinquents with the utmost cruelty, by knocking them down with
his musket, and frequently breaking legs and arms.
If sent to quell a disturbance in a house of ill fame, notwithstanding he was a
most abandoned debauchee himself, he would take pleasure in exposing the characters
of all those he found there, thereby destroying the peace of many families: he would
treat the unhappy prostitutes with the greatest inhumanity, and even drag them to a
prison, though many of them had been reduced by himself.
Amongst the many instances of cruelty he committed, we shall mention the
following, because it procured him the universal hatred of the people in that city: A
vacancy happening in the lectureship of a neighbouring church, two young gentlemen
were candidates; and having each an equal number of votes, the dispute was referred
to the presbytery; who declared in favour of Dawson. The other candidate, Mr
Wotherspoon, appealed to the synod, who reversed the order of the presbytery. As the
parishioners were much exasperated, and a tumult being apprehended at the church on
the day Mr Wotherspoon was to preach his first sermon, Porteous was ordered there to
keep the peace, but finding, on his arrival, Mr. Dawson had got possession of the
pulpit, he went up the steps without the least ceremony, seized him by the collar, and
dragged him down like a thief. In consequence of the wounds he received at this time,
Mr D. died a few weeks after.
Mr Wotherspoon coming in at the time of the affray, Mr. Dawson's friends
were so enraged, that they immediately fell on him, whom they beat in such a terrible
manner, that he also died about the same time as Mr Dawson.
Thus the lives of two amiable young gentlemen were sacrificed to the brutality of this
inhuman monster. Many men, women, and children, were also much wounded in the
affray; yet this wretch escaped unpunished: no notice being taken of the many
instances of his barbarity.
Nothing gave more pleasure to this fellow than his being employed to quell
riots, which, to the disgrace of the magistrates he was too much encouraged in. On
these occasions he never wanted an opportunity of exercising his savage disposition.
Smuggling was so much practised in Scotland at that time, that no laws could restrain
it. The smugglers assembled in large bodies, so that the revenue officers could not
attack them without endangering their lives.
The most active person in striving to suppress these unlawful practices was Mr
Stark, collector for the county of Fife, who being informed that one Andrew Wilson
had a large quantity of contraband goods at his house, persuaded a number of men to
accompany him; and they seized the goods, and safely lodged them (as they thought)
in the Custom-House, but Wilson being man of enterprising spirit, went in company
with one Robertson, and some more of his gang, to the Custom-House, when breaking
open the doors, they recovered their goods, which they brought off in carts, in
defiance of all opposition.
Mr Stark hearing that such a daring insult had been committed, dispatched an
account thereof to the Barons of the Exchequer who immediately applying to the Lord
Justice Clark, his lordship issued his warrant to the sheriff of Fife, commanding him
to assemble all the people in his jurisdiction to seize the delinquents and replace the
goods. In consequence of the above order, many were apprehended, but all discharged
again for want of evidence, except Wilson and Robertson, who were both found guilty
and sentenced to die.
A custom prevailed in Scotland at that time, of taking the condemned
criminals to church every Sunday, under the care of three or four of the city guards.
The above two criminals were accordingly taken to one of the churches on the Sunday
before they were to suffer; when, just getting within the door, Wilson (though
handcuffed) assisted in his companion's escape, by seizing hold of one soldier with his
teeth, and keeping the others from turning upon him, while he cried out to Robertson
to run.
Robertson accordingly took to his heels, and the streets being crowded with
people going to church, he passed uninterrupted, and got out of one of the city gates
just as they were going to shut it: a custom constantly observed during divine service.
The city being now alarmed, Porteous was immediately dispatched in search of him,
but all in vain, as Robertson met with a friend who knocked off his handcuffs, and
procured him a horse; and the same evening got on board a vessel at Dunbar, which
landed him safe in Holland.
He was living in the year 1756, and kept a public-house with great credit, near
the bridge at Rotterdam.
On the following Wednesday a temporary gallows was erected in the grass-
market, for the execution of Wilson, who was ordered to be conducted there by fifty
men, under the command of Porteous.
Porteous being apprehensive that an attempt would be made to rescue the
prisoner, represented to the provost the necessity there was for soldiers to be drawn up
ready to preserve the peace. On which five companies of the Welsh fusiliers,
commanded by a major, were ordered to be in readiness in the lawn-market, near the
place of execution.
No disturbance arising, the prisoner finished his devotions, ascended the
ladder, was turned off, and continued hanging the usual time; at the expiration of
which, the hangman going up the ladder to cut him down, 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 damned'; 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 who were looking out at the windows. Others of the
soldiers 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 with everything else they could lay their hands on, and
continuing to press on the soldiers; on which Porteous, with two of his men, turned
about and fired, killing three more of the people, which amounted to nine in the whole
that were left dead upon the spot; and many wounded.
A serjeant was sent by the major of the Welsh fusiliers to inquire into the
cause of the disturbance, but the mob was so outrageous that he could gain no
intelligence. Porteous, being assisted by the Welsh fusiliers, 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 the justiciary,
previous to which Porteous made a judicial confession that the people were killed as
mentioned in the indictments; but pleaded self-defence. His counsel then stated the
following point of law to be determined by the judges, previous to the jury being
charged with the prisoner: 'Whether a military officer with soldiers under his
command, who fires, or orders his men to fire, when assaulted by the populace, is not
acting consistently with the nature of self-defence, according to the laws of civilised
nations?'
The counsel being ordered to plead to the question by the court, they
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 impanelled, forty-
four witnesses were examined for and against the prosecution.
The prisoner being now 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, being apprehensive of a rescue; that powder and ball had been given them for
the said purpose, with orders to load their pieces.
They insisted 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 orders. 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 escape, though he had the greatest opportunity, and might have effected
it 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, and that it
could not 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 the riot act only could justify their firing, in case a rescue had actually been
attempted.
The prisoner's counsel replied, that the magistrates, whose duty it was to have
read the act, had deserted the soldiery, and took 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 put into their hands to defend themselves.
The charge being delivered to the jury, they retired for a considerable time,
when they brought him in guilty, and he received sentence of death.
The king being then at Hanover, and much interest being made to save the
prisoner, the queen, by the advice of her council, granted a respite till his Majesty's
return to England. The respite was only procured one week before his sentence was to
be put in execution, of which, when the populace were informed, such a scheme of
revenge was meditated as is perhaps unprecedented.
On the 7th of September, 1736, between nine and ten in the evening, a large
body of men entered the city of Edinburgh, and seized the arms belonging to the
guard; they then patrolled the streets, crying out, 'All those who dare avenge innocent
blood, let them come here.' They then shut the gates and placed guards at each.
The main body of the mob, all disguised, marched in the mean time to the
prison; when finding some difficulty in breaking open the doors with hammers, they
immediately set fire to it; taking great care that the flames should not spread 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, then throwing the other end
over a dyer's pole, hoisted him up; when he, endeavouring to save himself, fixed his
hands between the halter and his neck, which being observed by some of the mob, one
of them struck him with an axe, which obliging him to quit his hold, they soon put an
end to his life.
When they were satisfied he was dead they immediately dispersed to their
several habitations, unmolested themselves, and without molesting anyone else.
Such was the fate of Captain John Porteous, a man possessed of qualifications
which, had they been properly applied, might have rendered him an honourable and
useful servant of his country. His undaunted spirit and invincible courage would have
done honour to the greatest hero of antiquity. But being advanced to power, he
became intoxicated with pride, and instead of being the admiration of his fellow
citizens, he was detested and hated by all who knew him. The fate of this unhappy
man, it is hoped, will he a caution to those who are in power not to abuse it; but, by a
humane as well as diligent discharge of their duty, to render themselves worthy
members of society.
JOHN COLLINS
Executed for murdering Jane Upcot, and exposing her head on a spike, 1737
THIS man of blood lived in a village called Harledown, near Exeter, and was
by trade a thatcher. He had kept company with a young woman named Jane Upcot,
and who received his addresses, which appeared to be honourably offered. The
account of the circumstances which led to the shocking catastrophe we have to relate
does not disclose the motive for which the devil worked him up to put to death the
object of his love. It was proved that on the 16th of May, 1737, the villain murdered
this Jane Upcot. He afterwards, not glutted with shedding her blood, actually cut off
the head from the body, tore out the heart, and stuck them on a spar-hook, with which
he had killed her; and then, fixing the instrument near the decollated body, left the
horrid spectacle to the view of the passing traveller!!!
Nature sickens at the recital — let us therefore pass to some less inhuman
malefactor: this man deserved a severer death than the gallows.
He was executed at Exeter, in the year 1737.
THOMAS CARR, AN ATTORNEY , AND ELIZABETH
ADAMS
Executed at Tyburn, 18th of January, 1738, for Robbery
THOMAS CARR, when he committed the robbery for which he suffered, was
an attorney-at-law, of eminence in the Temple, and Elizabeth Adams a woman with
whom he cohabited. He had been many years vestry clerk of the parish of St Paul,
Covent Garden, a very respectable office. On the 15th of October, 1737, they were
indicted at the Old Bailey, for robbing William Quarrington of ninety-three guineas
and a diamond ring at the Angel and Crown tavern, near Temple Bar, upon which
they were found guilty, and sentence of death passed on them. Carr endeavoured to
obtain the Royal mercy, but the Privy Council replied that "a flagrant breach of the
law was greatly aggravated in being committed by a man professing the law."
On the 18th of January, 1738, thirteen miserable beings were carried from
Newgate to Tyburn, there to suffer death for different offences; and among them were
Carr and Adams, each in a mourning-coach. They both received the Sacrament on the
Sunday preceding; and then, and at the place of execution, denied the fact for which
they suffered. They were both remarkably composed for people in their dreadful
situation, and just as the cart began to draw away they kissed each other, joined hands,
and thus were launched into eternity.
WILLIAM UDALL
A Profligate Apprentice, who turned Highwayman. Executed at Tyburn, 14th
of March, 1738
THE father of this reprobate was an eminent distiller in Clerkenwell, London.
He gave his son a good education, and bound him apprentice to a watchmaker, in
Leadenhall Street, where he was idle, but soon learned from some abandoned
journeymen the trick of scraping gold from the inside of watch-cases, which he sold,
and then squandered away his ill-gotten pelf. His master died before he was detected,
and he was turned over to another, whom he offended before he had served a quarter
of a year. He then went to live with one Mr Stanbridge, of Clerkenwell, who engaged
to procure him his freedom at the expiration of the term for which he was originally
apprenticed.
He had not been long in the service of Stanbridge before he connected himself
with a number of young pickpockets, with whom he used to go out of an evening and
steal watches, swords, hats and anything they could lay their hands on, which they
deposited with one Williams, in Hanging Sword Alley, Fleet Street, who disposed of
the effects and shared the booty with the young thieves.
Udall's father was apprised of his living in an irregular manner, but had no
idea that he had proceeded to such lengths as to become a robber. However, to reclaim
him from his evil courses, he took a house for him, and put him into business in a very
reputable way.
One of Udall's companions was a youth named Raby, who, having served his
time to a barber, his friends likewise put into business, and for some months the
young fellows appeared to attend the duties of their respective professions; but they
had not quitted their old connections, for they used to go almost every night to Drury
Lane, to a house of ill-fame, which was kept by a woman named Bird. In this place
they associated with several young fellows of abandoned character. At length they
agreed to commence as highwaymen, and, in consequence thereof, committed a
number of robberies in and near Epping Forest and Finchley Common, one of which
was attended with a circumstance of unusual barbarity.
These associates in wickedness, having stopped the St Albans coach, robbed
the passengers of about five pounds, and immediately put spurs to their horses; but
they had not ridden far before Udall said that a lady in the coach had a remarkably
fine ring on her finger. On this Raby rode back, and, the lady being unwilling to part
with the ring, the remorseless villain drew a knife and cut off her finger for the sake of
the paltry prize. This horrid action being perpetrated, they rode to Hampstead, and
having robbed some other people the same evening they hastened to Drury Lane,
where they divided the spoil.
On one occasion Udall and two of his accomplices, named Baker and Wager,
stopped a coach on the road to Uxbridge. A guard being behind the coach, with a
blunderbuss, Baker threatened him with instant death if he did not throw it away, and
the man obeyed. Wager and Udall guarded the coachman and postilion, while Baker
robbed the company; but this was no sooner done than the guard produced a horse-
pistol, with which he fired at Udall, and brought him to the ground; on which Baker
shot the guard, so that he instantly expired.
Udall was conveyed to a farmhouse near Uxbridge by his accomplices, and lay
there six weeks before he recovered; but soon afterwards they killed the person who
guarded another coach as it was going over Turnham Green.
Only a short time after the commission of this atrocious crime Udall knocked
down a young woman in Fenchurch Street, whom he robbed of a cloak, a
handkerchief and her pocket, which contained only a few halfpence.
Not long after this adventure, Udall and some of his associates robbed a
physician in the Strand, for which they were all of them apprehended; but Udall
became an evidence against his accomplices, by which he escaped the fate which he
had so frequently merited.
He and an accomplice named Man then committed several robberies in the
neighbourhood of Epping Forest, and Udall, having one night left his horse at a
public-house in the Forest, went to Man's lodgings in an absolute state of intoxication.
While he was in this situation Man went out and locked the door, on pretence of care
that the men from the Marshalsea should not apprehend his companion; but he
immediately delivered himself into custody and gave the key to the runners, who,
entering the house, seized Udall, in bed, and conveyed them both to their former
apartments.
Man now seriously reflected on his situation, and being apprehensive that he
might be seen by some person who would charge him with a capital offence he
begged to be conducted to a magistrate, before whom he was admitted an evidence
against his companion, on a charge of his having committed several robberies on the
highway.
Hereupon Udall was committed to Newgate, and being tried at the next
sessions at the Old Bailey he was convicted, principally on the evidence of Man, and
received sentence of death. He was hanged at Tyburn, on 14th of March, 1738.
JOHN TOON AND EDWARD BLASTOCK
Executed at Tyburn, May 20, 1738, for highway robbery.
The parents of John Toon were respectable inhabitants of Shoreditch, who
having bestowed on him a liberal education, apprenticed him, to a capital ironmonger,
who had married his sister; but not being happy in this situation, his father sent him to
sea at the expiration of three years. After two voyages to Barbadoes, he grew tired of
the life of a seaman, which he quitted to live with his uncle, who was a carman, and in
whose service he behaved so unexceptionably, that on the death of the uncle; which
happened soon afterwards, he took possession of four hundred pounds, which his
relation had bequeathed him, as the reward of his good conduct.
Soon after becoming possessed of this money, he married the sister of Edward
Blastock, and began to live in a most extravagant manner. When he had dissipated
half his little fortune, Blastock proposed that they should go into Yorkshire, and
embark in public business. This proposal being accepted; they took an inn in
Sheffield, the place of Blastock's birth; but both of the landlords being better
calculated to spend than to get money, Toon soon found his circumstances
embarrassed.
Thus situated, he reflected on Blastock for advising him to take the inn; and
the other recriminated; by recounting the faults of Toon. In consequence of this
dissention, Blastock brought, his wife to London, whither Toon and his wife soon
followed, after selling off their effects.
Toon, who was totally reduced, met his own elder brother one day in
Cheapside. This brother, who was a dyer in Shoreditch, took little notice of the other,
but as Toon imagined he was going out for the day, he went to his house, and met
with his wife, who entreated him to stay dinner; to which he consented, and in the
mean time he went to see the men at work, and finding one among them of genteel
appearance, whom he learnt was his brothers book-keeper, he became extremely
enraged that his brother should employ. a stranger in this station in preference to
himself, at a time that he was in circumstances of distress.
In this agitation of mind he returned into the house, and: whilst his sister-in-
law was gone into another room, he stole a small quantity of silver-plate, and
decamped: and having soon spent the produce of this theft, he determined on the
dangerous and fatal resource of the highway.
His first expedition was to Epping. Forest, where he waited along time in
expectation of a booty; and at length observing a coach come from Lord Castlemain's
seat, he used the most dreadful imprecations to compel the coach-man to stop, and
robbed two ladies of near three pounds, with a girdle-buckle, and an etwee-case.
He now imagined that he had got a valuable prize: but he, at length pawned
the buckle and etwee for twelve shillings; finding that the latter was base metal;
though he had mistaken it for gold, and the former was set with crystal stones instead
of diamonds, as they had appeared to his eye.
He soon spent his ill-gotten treasure, and going again on the highway, stopped
and robbed several persons, among whom was a gentleman named Currier, who
earnestly exhorted him to decline his present course of life, not only from the
immorality, but the danger of it. The robber thanked the gentleman for his advice; but
said that he had no occasion for it, as he was sufficiently apprized, of his danger, but
he must have his money, on pain of instant death; and having robbed him of three
guineas, he decamped with the utmost expedition
One of his next robberies was on Epping Forest, where he dispossessed a
gentleman of his money and a gold watch; which he left in the hands of a receiver of
stolen goods, to dispose of to the best advantage, but the watch being of value, and in
high estimation with the Owner, he advertised it, with a reward of eight guineas, on
which the receiver delivered it, and took the money, but gave Toon only seven of
them, pretending that was all he could obtain.
Toon not having read the advertisement, was ignorant of the trick that had
been put upon him; but being some days afterwards upon Epping Forest, and having
in vain waited some time for a booty he went to the Green Man by Lord Castlemain's
house, where he heard one, of his lordship's footmen recounting the particulars of the
robbery, and saying that the watch had been recovered on giving eight guineas for it.
This circumstance determined Toon never to lodge any of his future booties in
the hand of this man. But. it will now be proper to say something of the other
malefactor, whose story makes part of this narrative.
EDWARD BLASTOCK was a native of Sheffield, in Yorkshire, and was
apprenticed in London to a peruke-maker in the temple; and his master dying when he
had served about five years, his mistress declined trade; and gave the young fellow his
indentures, on the representation of the gentlemen of the law, that they wished him,
rather than any other, to succeed her late husband.
But the rent of the house being high, Blastock was afraid to enter on business
so early in life, as he, was at that time only eighteen years of age: on which he took
two rooms in White Friars, where he began to practise in his business, and met with
great success.
Coming by this means into the possession of money before he knew the value
of it, he attached himself to the fashionable pleasures of the town, by which he soon
incurred more debts than he could discharge; and consequently was obliged to decline
business, and have recourse to the wretched life of a strolling player; refusing to
accept of a good situation which was offered him by a gentleman of the Temple.
Soon afterwards Blastock married, had several children, and being reduced to
great distress, went into Yorkshire with Toon, as has been already mentioned. On his
return from Yorkshire, he again engaged himself as a strolling player and after some
time, casually meeting with Toon, the latter represented the advantages to be made by
the life of a highwayman, and wished him to embark in that business; which he
declined on the double score of its danger and immorality.
Not long after this refusal Blastock was seized with an indisposition, which
threatened his life, and confined him so long that his wife was obliged to pawn almost
all her effects for his support; and being visited by Toon during his illness, the latter
again wished him to commence highwayman.
Blastock had no sooner recovered his health than, depressed by want, he
yielded to the dangerous solicitation, and went with his accomplice to Epping Forest,
where they stopped the chariot of a gentleman, whom they robbed of a few shillings
and a pocket-piece, and then came to London.
On the following day, they went again towards the forest; but, in crossing
Hackney Marsh, Toon's horse sunk in a slough, where he continued for so long a time
that they found it impossible to achieve any profitable adventure for that night.
Thus disappointed, they returned to London, and on the 27th of February
following set out on another expedition, which proved to be their last of the kind.
While Toon was loading his pistols, he was prepossessed with the idea that his fate
was speedily approaching; nevertheless he resolved to run every hazard: on which
they rode as far as Muswell Hill, where they stopped a gentleman named Seabroke,
and demanded his money.
The gentleman gave them eighteen shillings, saying it was all he had, and
adding, "God bless you, gentlemen, you are welcome to it." Toon then demanded his
watch, which Mr. Seabroke delivered, expressing himself again in the same words.
This robbery being committed, they galloped hard towards Highgate, and their horses
being almost. tired, Blastock, stung with the guilt of his conscience, looked frequently
behind him, in apprehension that he was pursued; and so strong was the terror of
conscience, "which makes cowards of us all," that both of them agreed to quit their
horses, and make their escape.
They now ran through a farm-yard, and taking the back road which leads from
Highgate to Hampstead, they got to London on foot; and Blastock now declared his
determination never to embark in such another project, while he congratulated himself
on his narrow escape.
They now took a solemn oath, that, if either of them should he apprehended,
neither would impeach the other; and the watch obtained in the last robbery being sold
for two guineas, Blastock received his share, and went to join a company of strolling
players at Chatham.
The stolen watch being advertised, the purchaser carried it to Mr. Seabroke,
telling him that he knew Toon, and would assist in taking him into custody; the
consequence of which was, that the offender was lodged in Newgate on the same day.
Toon kept his oath in declining to give any information against his
accomplice; but Blastock having agreed to go with the players to a greater distance
from London than Chatham, returned to town to bid his wife and children adieu.
When he arrived, which was about midnight, his wife and her sister were in bed: and
the former having opened the door, he was informed that Toon was in custody, and
advised to seek his safety by an immediate: flight.
This advice, however, he did not take; and in the morning, Toon's wife desired
he would stay while she visited her husband, declaring that she would not mention his
having returned to London.
On her return from this visit, she wept much, and expressed her wishes for the
approach of night, that he might retire in safety. In the evening, while supper was
providing, she went out, under pretence of a visit to her husband, but instead thereof,
she went to Toon's brother, who taking her before a magistrate; some peace-officers
were sent to take Blastock into custody:
Mrs. Toon directed the officers to the room where Blastock was, in company
with two men of his acquaintance, who were advising him on the emergency of his
affairs. Blastock, suspecting some foul play, concealed himself in a closet; and when
the officers came in, they first seized one, and then the other of the persons present;
but were soon convinced that neither of them was the party they were in search of.
On this the officers made a stricter search, and finding Blastock in the closet,
took him into custody. Having taken leave of his wife and children, they carried him
before a magistrate, who asked him if he had not a worse coat than that which he then
wore. Blastock owned that he had, and actually sent for it; and it was kept to be
produced in evidence against him.
While the officers were conducting him to Newgate, in a coach, they told him
that Mrs. Toon had given the information against him; at which he was so shocked,
that it was some time before he could recover his recollection, being absolutely
insensible when he was lodged in prison.
These malefactors being tried at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, were capitally
convicted, and received sentence of death; and, after conviction, were confined in the
same cell: but being unhappy together, from their mutual recriminations of each other,
the keeper caused them to be separated.
Toon behaved more penitently than malefactors usually do; and Blastock
exhibited an uncommon instance of unfeigned penitence and contrition. They
embraced each other at the place of their death, and Blastock delivered the following
speech to the surrounding multitude:
"Dear Friends,
"I do not come here to excuse myself, although I have been first led into the
crime for which suffer, and then basely betrayed; no, I am sensible of my guilt, nor
should I have made the world acquainted with this barbarous treatment that I have met
with, even from a near relation, had it not been with a view of preventing the ruin of
many young persons.
"Let my fate be an example to them, and never let any man in trade think
himself above his business, nor despise the offers of those who would serve him. Let
them purchase wisdom at my cost, and never let slip any opportunity that bids fair to
be of the least advantage to them, for experience tells me, that had I done as I now
advise you, I had never come to this end.
"The next thing never to trust your life in the hands of a near relation; for
money makes those who pretend to be your nearest friends; your most bitter enemies.
Never be persuaded to do any thing you may be sorry for afterwards, nor believe the
most solemn Oaths, for there is no truth in imprecations; rather take a man's word; for
those that will swear will lie: Not but that that I believe there are some in the world,
with, who would suffer the worst of deaths, rather than betray the trust reposed in
them.
"What, I have here declared; as I am a dying man, I protest before God is true;
and here; before God and the world, I freely forgive those who betrayed me, and die
in peace with all mankind.
"I implore the forgiveness of that God who has promised pardon and
forgiveness to all those who sincerely repent; and I hope I have done my best
endeavours, while in prison, to make my peace with a justly offended God. I hope the
moment I leave this troublesome world, my soul will be received into eternal
happiness, through the merits of Jesus Christ.
"I conclude with my prayers for the welfare of my poor unhappy wife and
children, who are now reduced to misery; and taking a long farewell of the world, I
commit my spirit into the hands of him who gave me being."
JOSEPH JOHNSON
Pickpocket and "Esquire," who swindled many Farmers and was executed at
Tyburn, 19th of July, 1738, at the Age of Sixty
This hoary-headed sinner, who was both a pick-pocket and a swindler, was
permitted to proceed in his career of villainy for a longer time than any who have
fallen under notice. There is no species of robbery which he did not commit, or in
which habitual practice had not made him a proficient.
His parents lived in the Old Jewry, and, being very poor people, his education
was totally neglected. He kept bad company almost from his infancy, and becoming a
pickpocket while yet a child, he continued that practice till he was above twenty years
of age. He then took to a new mode of fraud. He used to meet porters and errand-boys
in the streets and, by a variety of false pretences, get possession of the goods entrusted
to their care. For one of these offences he was taken into custody, and tried at the Old
Bailey, where he was acquitted in defect of evidence.
Having thus obtained his liberty, he had recourse to his former practices, till,
being apprehended for stealing a sword, he was tried and convicted at the Old Bailey,
and sentenced to seven years' transportation.
It happened that one of his fellow-convicts was possessed of a stolen bank-
note, which was changed, as is presumed, with the captain of the vessel, who had a
gratuity for their liberty; for when they arrived in America they were set at large, and
took lodgings at New York, where they lived some time in an expensive manner; and
the captain, on his return to England, stopped at Rotterdam, where he offered the
stolen note to a banker; on which he was lodged in prison, and did not obtain his
liberty without considerable difficulty.
Johnson and his associate, having quitted New York, embarked for Holland,
whence they came to England, where they assumed the dress and appearance of
people of fashion, and frequented all the places of public diversion. Thus disguised,
Johnson used to mix with the crowd and steal watches, etc., which his accomplice
carried off unsuspected.
In the summer-time, when London was thin of company, Johnson and his
companion used to ride through the country, the former appearing as a gentleman of
fortune and the latter as his servant. On their arrival at an inn they inquired of the
landlord into the circumstances of the farmers in the neighbourhood, and when they
had learned the name and residence of one who was rich, with such other particulars
as might forward their plan, the "servant" was dispatched to tell the farmer that the
"Esquire" would be glad to speak with him at the inn; and he was commissioned to
hint that his master's property in the public funds was very considerable.
This bait generally succeeded: the farmer hastened to the inn, where he found
the "Esquire" in an elegant undress; who, after the first compliments, informed him
that he was come down to purchase a valuable estate in the neighbourhood, which he
thought so well worth the buying that he had agreed to pay part of the money that day;
but not having sufficient cash in his possession he had sent for the farmer to lend him
part of the sum, and assured him that he should be no loser by granting the favour. To
make sure of his prey, he had always some counterfeit jewels in his possession, which
he used to deposit in the farmer's hands, to be taken up when the money was repaid;
and, by artifices of this kind, Johnson and his associate acquired large sums of money;
the former not only changing his name, but disguising his person so that detection was
almost impossible.
This practice he continued for a succession of years, and in one of his
expeditions of this kind got possession of a thousand pounds, with which he escaped
unsuspected. In order to avoid detection he took a small house in Southwark, where
he used to live in the most obscure manner, not even permitting his servant-maid to
open the window lest he should be discovered.
Thus he continued committing these kinds of frauds, and living in retirement
on the profits arising from them, till he reached the age of sixty years; when, though
he was poor, he was afraid to make fresh excursions to the country, but thought of
exercising his talents in London.
Thereupon he picked the pockets of several persons of as many watches as
produced money enough to furnish him with an elegant suit of clothes, in which he
went to a public ball, where he walked a minuet with the kept mistress of a nobleman,
who invited him to drink tea with her on the following day.
He accepted the invitation, when she informed him that she had another
engagement to a ball, and should think herself extremely honoured by his company.
He readily agreed to the proposal; but, while in company, he picked the pocket of Mr
Pye, a merchant's clerk, of a pocket- book, containing bank-notes to the amount of
five hundred pounds.
Pye had no idea of his loss till the following day, when he should have
accounted with his employer. When the discovery was made, immediate notice was
sent to the bank to stop payment of the notes; and Johnson was actually changing one
of them, to the amount of fifty pounds, when the messenger came thither. Thereupon
he was taken into custody, and being tried at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, for
privately stealing, was capitally convicted; and this offence being without the benefit
of clergy, he was sentenced to death.
His behaviour after condemnation was consistent with his former character; he
expressed neither remorse nor repentance, but seemed perfectly sensible to the awful
fate which awaited hem. He was hanged at Tyburn, on the 19th of July, 1738, without
making any confession of his crimes, and refusing to join in the customary devotions
on such an awful occasion, though a sinner of above sixty years of age
WILLIAM NEWINGTON
A Writer, who forged a Draft for One Hundred and Twenty Pounds and was
executed at Tyburn on 26th of August, 1738
THIS unhappy young man was a native of Chichester, in Sussex, and was the
son of reputable parents, who, having given him a good education, placed him with
Mr Cave, an attorney of that town, with whom he served his clerkship; and then,
coming to London, lived as a hackney-writer with Mr Studley, in Nicholas Lane,
Lombard Street, for about two years and a half.
But Newington being of a volatile disposition, and much disposed to the
keeping of company and irregular hours, Mr Studley discharged him from his service;
on which he went to live with Mr Leaver, a scrivener, in Friday Street, with whom he
continued between two and three years, and served him with a degree of fidelity that
met with the highest approbation.
This service he quitted about a year before he was convicted of the offence
which cost him his life; and in the interval lived in a gay manner, without having any
visible means of support, and paid his addresses to a young lady of very handsome
fortune, to whom he would soon have been married. It is presumed that, being
distressed for money to support his expensive way of life, and to carry on his amour,
he was tempted to commit forgery, which, by an Act of Parliament then recently
passed, had been made a capital offence.
He went to Child's coffee-house, in St Paul's Churchyard, where he drew a
draft on the house of Child & Company, bankers, in Fleet Street, in the following
words: —
SIR FRANCIS CHILD AND COMP.
Pray pay to Sir Rowland Hill, Bart., or order, the sum of one hundred and twenty
pounds, and place it to the account of your humble servant,
THOMAS HILL
To SIR FRA. CHILD AND COMP.
TEMPLE BAR.
The draft he dispatched by a porter, but was so agitated by his fears while he
wrote it that he forgot to put any date to it; otherwise, as Mr Thomas Hill kept cash
with the bankers, and as the forgery was admirably executed, the draft would have
been paid; but, at the instant that the porter was about to put his endorsement on it,
one of the clerks said he might go about his business, for that they did not believe the
draft was a good one. The porter returned to the coffee-house without the draft, which
the bankers' clerks had refused to deliver him but on his return he found that the
gentleman was gone. At the expiration of two hours the bankers' clerks came to
Child's coffee-house and inquired for the person who had made the draft; but he was
not to be found, for in the absence of the porter he had inquired for the Faculty Office
in Doctors' Commons, saying he had some business at that place and would return in
half-an-hour.
About two or three hours afterwards the porter's son told him that a gentleman
wanted him at the Horn and Feathers, in Carter Lane, where he went, and told
Newington that the bankers had refused to pay the note. "Very well," said he, stay
here till I go and put on my shoes, and I will go with you and rectify the mistake."
When the porter had waited nearly three hours, and his employer did not
return, he began to suspect that the draft was forged, and some hours afterwards,
calling in at the Fountain ale-house in Cheapside, he saw Newington; on which he
went and fetched a constable, who took him into custody, and lodged him in the
compter.
Being tried at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, he was capitally convicted,
notwithstanding nine gentlemen appeared to give him an excellent character; but
character has little weight where evidence is positive and the crime is capital. When
called down to receive sentence of death he delivered the following address:-
"May it please your Lordship: This my most melancholy case was occasioned
by the alone inconsiderate rashness of my inexperienced years. The intent of fraud is,
without doubt, most strongly and most positively found against me; but I assure your
Lordship I was not in want; nor did I ever think of such a thing in the whole course of
my life till within a few minutes of the execution of this rash deed. "I hope your
Lordship has some regard for the gentlemen who have so generously appeared in my
behalf; and as this is the first fact, though of so deep a dye, my youth and past conduct
may, I hope in some measure, move your Lordship's pity, compassion and generous
assistance."
After conviction, Newington flattered himself that he should escape the utmost
ignominy of the law through the intercession of his friends; but when the warrant for
execution, in which his name was included, was brought to Newgate, he appeared to
be greatly shocked; but recollecting and composing himself he said: "God's will be
done." But immediately bursting into tears, he lamented the misery which his mother
would naturally endure when she should be acquainted with the wretched fate of her
unfortunate son.
The dreadful tidings being conveyed to his mother, she left Chichester with an
aching heart; and it was a week after her arrival in London before she could acquire a
sufficient degree of spirits to visit the unfortunate cause of her grief. At length she
repaired to the gloomy mansion; but when she saw her son fettered with chains it was
with the utmost difficulty that she could be kept from fainting. She hung round his
neck, while he dropped on his knees and implored her blessing and forgiveness; and
so truly mournful was the spectacle that even the jailers, accustomed as they are to
scenes of horror, shed tears at the sight. He was executed at Tyburn, on the 26th of
August, 1738.
JOHN TOTTERDALE
Executed at Tyburn, October 5, 1738, for the murder of his wife.
IN the history of this man's crime, we have again to present a cruel and
premeditated murder of a good wife. On this strangely unnatural deed, we have
already expatiated; and therefore, can only repeat our wonder and abhorrence of men
taking away that life which was a comfort to their own.
This malefactor, who was a native of North Currey, in Somersetshire, after
having been employed in the business of agriculture, came to London about the time
that he had arrived at the years of maturity, and lived in several families as a servant,
maintaining always a respectable character.
Having saved some money in service, he married, and took a public-house in
the parish of St. John, Westminster, where he perpetrated the murder which cost him
his life.
Coming home one evening somewhat intoxicated, he sat down to drink with
two women who were in a room with his wife. Mrs. Totterdale quitting the room, her
husband soon followed her, with a knife and fork in his hand; soon after which, the
cry of murder was heard; when Daniel Brown, who lodged in the house, running up
stairs, saw Totterdale stamp on his wife two or three times as she lay on the floor.
On this, Brown seized the knife and fork which Totterdale still held in his
hand, and having got the woman into another room, she locked it, and he persuaded
the husband to go down stairs.
Soon afterwards, Totterdale's passion increasing, he procured a key, with
which he opened the door, when his wife was sitting at the foot of a bed, with the
curtains drawn to hide her: so that he did not at first observe where she was; on which,
Brown waved his hand, intimating that she should retire; but she did not, being either
afraid, or unable to move; and the husband discovering her, a few words passed
between them, when he kicked her, caught hold of her feet, dragged her off the bed,
and threw her down about seven of the stairs, where she lay senseless.
Terrified at this sight, Brown ran into his own room, where he staid three or
four minutes, and then going down the stairs, found that Totterdale had dragged his
wife into a room, and fastened the door; but Brown heard her say, "For Christ's sake
Johnny! Johnny, for Christ's sake don't kill me!" Mr. Brown then went out, but found
the woman dead when he returned, at the end of about an hour and a half.
The husband was now taken into custody, and the body of the deceased being
examined by a surgeon, he found that nine of her ribs were broke, and that her right
arm was stabbed in the joint, to the depth of four inches.
Totterdale being committed to the Gatehouse, was visited by his wife's sister,
who said to him, "O John! John ! how could you be so barbarous as to murder your
poor wife?" In answer to which, he said, "The devil overpowered me; I was pushed on
by the devil, both to begin and finish the deed — I cannot recall or undo what I have
done; but I wish I could bring back my poor, unhappy, unprepared wife from the
grave again."
Some of his acquaintance asked him why he did not attempt to make his
escape after he had committed the murder, he replied that he had an intention of so
doing, but as he was going out of the room, he imagined be heard a voice saying,
"John, John, stay — What have you done? You cannot go off" which supposed words
deprived him of all possibility of effecting, his escape.
Being brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, the evidence against him was so
clear, that the jury did not hesitate to find him guilty, in consequence of which he was
sentenced to die.
After conviction, he declared that he had no fear of the disgraceful death that
awaited him, and that he would willingly suffer any degree of torture, as an
atonement, for the crime of which he had been guilty.
On being told that his name was included in the warrant for execution, he
replied, "The Lord's will be done; I am ready to die, I am willing to die; only I beg of
God that I may not (though I deserve it) die an eternal death: and though I am cut off
from this world for my heinous offences, yet I hope it is not impossible that I should
live for ever in a better state. I have been guilty of the unnatural murder of my poor
wife: the Lord be more merciful to me than I was to her, or else I perish." He added,
that he hoped those who had received injuries from him would forgive him; as he
freely forgave those by whom he had been injured.
Totterdale found a generous friend in Mr, Paul, a brewer, who had served him
with beer while in trade: for when in prison, he supplied him with the necessaries of
life. He likewise provided for his two children, and took care to see the unhappy man
buried by the side of his wife, agreeable to an earnest request he made in a letter
written the day before his execution.
The behaviour of this wretched man, after conviction, and at the place of his
death, was decent, devout, and resigned in a high degree. He appeared to be a sincere
penitent; and admonished others not to indulge that violence of passion which ended
in his destruction.
GEORGE PRICE
Sentenced to Death for murdering his Wife, but died of Jail Fever, 22nd of
October, 1738
Price murdering his wife on Hounslow Heath
THIS malefactor was a native of Hay, in Brecknockshire, where he lived as a
servant to a widow lady. Having lived in this station seven years, he repaired to
London, and became acquainted with Mary Chambers, servant at a public-house at
Hampstead, whom he married at the expiration of a fortnight from his first paying his
addresses to her; but Mr Brown, his master, disapproving of the match, dismissed
Price from his service. Soon after this he took his wife into Brecknockshire, and
imposed her on his relations as the daughter of a military officer, who would become
entitled to a large fortune. He was treated in the most friendly manner by his relations;
and the young couple returning to London, the wife went to lodge at Hampstead,
while Price engaged in the service of a gentleman in New Broad Street.
Mrs Price, being delivered of twins, desired her husband to buy some
medicine to make the children sleep, which he procured; and on the children dying
soon afterwards a report was circulated that he had poisoned them; but this
circumstance he denied to the last moment of his life. Price now paid his addresses to
other women, and conceiving his wife as an obstacle between him and his wishes he
formed the infernal resolution of murdering her. He told her that he had procured the
place of a nursery-maid for her in the neighbourhood of Putney, and that he would
attend her thither that very day. He then directed her to meet him at the Woolpack, in
Monkwell Street. Accordingly she went home and dressed herself (having borrowed
some clothes of her landlady) and met her husband, who put her in a chaise, and drove
her out of town towards Hounslow. When he came on Hounslow Heath it was nearly
ten o'clock at night; when he suddenly stopped the chaise and threw the lash of the
whip round his wife's neck; but drawing it too hastily he made a violent mark on her
chin; immediately finding his mistake, he placed it lower, on which she exclaimed:
"My dear! my dear! For God's sake — if this is your love, I will never trust you
more." Immediately on her pronouncing these words, which were her last, he pulled
the ends of the whip with great force; but, the violence of his passion abating, he let
go before she was quite dead; yet, resolving to accomplish the horrid deed, he once
more put the thong of the whip about her neck, and pulled it with such violence that it
broke; but not till the poor woman was dead.
Having stripped the body, he left it almost under a gibbet where some
malefactors hung in chains, having first disfigured it to such a degree that he
presumed it could not be known. He brought the clothes to London, some of which he
cut in pieces, and dropped in different streets; but knowing that the others were
borrowed of the landlady he sent them to her, a circumstance that materially conduced
to his conviction.
He reached London about one o'clock in the morning, and being interrogated
why he came at such an unseasonable hour, he said that the Margate hoy had been
detained in the river by contrary winds.
On the following day the servants and other people made so many inquiries
respecting his wife that, terrified at the idea of being taken into custody, he
immediately fled to Portsmouth, with a view to entering on board a ship; but no vessel
was then ready to sail.
While he was drinking at an ale-house in Portsmouth he heard the bellman
crying him as a murderer, with such an exact description of him that he was
apprehensive of being seized, and observing a window which opened to the water he
jumped out, and swam for his life. Having gained the shore, he travelled all night, till
he reached a farmhouse, where he slept on some straw in the barn.
On the following day he crossed the country towards Oxford, where he
endeavoured to get into service, and would have been engaged by a physician, but
happening to read a newspaper in which he was advertised he immediately decamped
from Oxford, and travelled into Wales. Having stopped at a village a few miles from
Hay, at the house of a shoemaker, to whom his brother was apprenticed, the latter
obtained his master's permission to accompany his brother home; and while they were
on their walk the malefactor recounted the particulars of the murder which had
obliged him to seek his safety in flight. The brother commiserated his condition; and,
leaving him at a small distance from their father's house, went in and found the old
gentleman reading an advertisement describing the murderer. The younger son
bursting into tears, the father said he hoped his brother was not come; to which the
youth replied: "Yes, he is at the door; but being afraid that some of the neighbours
were in the house he would not come in till he had your permission." The offender on
being introduced fell on his knees, and earnestly besought his father's blessing; to
which the aged parent said: "Ah! George, I wish God may bless you, and what I have
heard concerning you may be false." The son said: "It is false; but let me have a
private room; make no words; I have done no harm; let me have a room to myself."
Being accommodated agreeable to his request, he produced half-a-crown,
begging that his brother would buy a lancet, as he was resolved to put a period to his
miserable existence; but the brother declined to in any way aid in the commission of
the crime of suicide; and the father, after exerting every argument to prevent his
thinking of such a violation of the laws of God, concealed him for two days.
It happened that the neighbours observed a fire in a room where none had been
for a considerable time before, and a report was propagated that Price was secreted in
the house of his father; whereupon he thought it prudent to abscond in the night; and
having reached Gloucester he went to an inn and procured the place of an ostler.
During his residence at Gloucester two of the sons of the lady with whom he had first
lived as a servant happened to be at a school in that city, and Price behaved to them
with so much civility that they wrote to their mother describing his conduct; in reply
to which she informed them that he had killed his wife, and desired them not to hold
any correspondence with him.
The young gentlemen mentioning this circumstance, one of Price's fellow-
servants said to him: "You are the man that murdered your wife on Hounslow Heath. I
will not betray you, but if you stay longer you will certainly be taken into custody."
Stung by the reflections of his own conscience, and agitated by the fear of
momentary detection, Price knew not how to act; but at length he resolved to come to
London and surrender to justice; and calling on his former master, and being
apprehended, he was committed to Newgate. At the following sessions at the Old
Bailey he was brought to his trial, and convicted. He was sentenced to death, but died
of the jail fever in Newgate, before the law could be executed on him, on the 22nd of
October, 1738.
JOHN RICHARDSON AND RICHARD COYLE
Pirates, hanged at Execution Dock, 25th January, 1738
Richardson and Coyle attacking Captain Hartley in his cabin
THE crime of piracy is generally accompanied by murder. Richardson, to both
these crimes, added that of swindling. His memory will with justice be particularly
execrated by our female readers; for it will be found that, through the most
consummate hypocrisy, he succeeded in seducing, and then abandoning, several of
their sex.
John Richardson was an American, having been born in the city of New York,
where he went to school till he was fourteen years old: he was then put under the care
of his brother, who was a cooper; but, not liking that business, he sailed on board a
merchant ship, commanded by his namesake, Captain Richardson.
After one voyage, he served five years to a carpenter; but having made an
illicit connexion with his master's daughter, who became pregnant, he quitted his
service, and entered on board a ship bound to Jamaica; on his arrival there he was
impressed, put on board a man of war, and brought to England.
The ship's crew being paid at Chatham, he came to London, took lodgings in
Horsleydown, and spent all his money. On this he entered as boatswain on board a
vessel bound to the Baltic; but, being weary of his situation, he soon quitted that
station, having first concerted and executed the following scheme of fraud.
Knowing that there was a merchant in the country with whom the captain had
dealings, be went to a tavern, and wrote a letter, as from the captain, desiring that the
merchant would send him a hundred rix-dollars. This letter he carried himself, and
received the money from the merchant, who said he had more at the captain's service
if it was wanted.
Being possessed of this sum, he, the next day, embarked on board a Dutch
vessel bound to Amsterdam; and soon after his arrival connected himself with a
woman whose husband had sailed as mate of a Dutch East India ship. With this
woman ho cohabited about eight months, when she told him that it would be
necessary for him to decamp, as she daily expected her husband to return from his
voyage.
Richardson agreed to depart, but first determined to rob her; and, having
persuaded her to go to the play, he took her to a tavern afterwards, where he plied her
with liquor till she was perfectly intoxicated. This being done, he attended her home,
and, having got her to bed and found her fast asleep, ho took the keys out of her
pocket, and, unlocking the warehouse, stole India goods to the amount of two hundred
pounds, which he conveyed to a lodging he had taken to receive them. Re then
replaced the keys; but, finding some that were smaller, he with those opened her
drawers, and took out sixty pounds. Some years afterwards be saw this woman at
Amsterdam, but she made no complaint of the robbery; by which it may reasonably be
supposed that she was afraid her husband might suspect her former illicit connexion.
Having put his stolen goods on board one of the Rotterdam boats, he departed
for that place, where he found the captain of a vessel bound to New England, with
whom he sailed at the expiration of four days.
On their arrival at Boston, Richardson went to settle about fifty miles up the
country, in expectation that the property be possessed might procure him a wife of
some fortune. Having taken his lodgings at a farmer's, he deposited his goods in a
kind of warehouse.
It being now near the Christmas holy-days, many of the country people
solicited that he would keep the festival with them. These offers were so numerous,
that he scarce knew bow to determine; but at length accepted the invitation of a Mr.
Brown, to which he was influenced by his having three daughters, and four maid-
servants, all of them very agreeable young women.
Richardson made presents of India handkerchiefs to all the girls, and so far
ingratiated himself into their favour that in a short time all of them were pregnant. But
before this circumstance was discovered there happened to he a wedding, to which the
daughter of a justice of the peace was invited as a brides-maid, and Richardson as a
brides-man.
Our adventurer, soon becoming intimate with the young lady, persuaded her to
go and see his lodgings and warehouse, and offered to make her a present of any piece
of goods which she might deem worth her acceptance. At length she fixed on a piece
of chintz, and carried it home with her.
Two days afterwards Richardson wrote to her; and, her answer being such as
flattered his wishes, be likewise wrote to her father, requesting permission to pay his
addresses to the daughter. The old gentleman readily admitted his visits, and, at the
end of three months, gave his consent that the young people should be united in
wedlock.
As there were no licenses for marriage in that country, it was the uniform
custom to publish the bans three successive Sundays in the church. On the first day no
objection was made; but on the second Sunday all the girls from the house where he
had spent his Christmas made their appearance to forbid the bans, each of them
declaring that she was with child by the intended husband.
Hereupon Richardson slipped out of the church, leaving the people astonished
at the singularity of the circumstance; but he had reason to suppose that it would not
be long before he should hear from the father of the young lady, whom he had already
seduced.
Accordingly, in a few days be received a letter from the old gentleman,
begging that he would decline his visits, as his conduct furnished a subject of
conversation for the whole country; and with his request Richardson very cheerfully
complied; but in about four months he was sent for, when the justice offered him
300L. currency, to take his daughter as a wife. He seemed to hesitate at first; but at
length consenting, the young lady and he went to a village at the distance of forty
miles, where the bans were regularly published, and the marriage took place, before
the other parties were apprised of it.
However, in a little time after the wedding, he was arrested by the friends of
the girls whom he had debauched, in order to compel him to give security for the
maintenance of the future children; on which his father-in-law engaged that he should
not abscond, and paid him his wife's fortune.
Having thus possessed himself of the money, and being sick of his new
connexion, be told his wife and her relations that, not being fond of a country life, he
would go to New York and build him a ship, and would return at the expiration of
three months. The family, having no suspicion of his intentions, took leave of him
with every mark of affection; but he never went near them any more.
Having previously sent his effects to Boston, he went to that place, where he
soon spent his money amongst the worst kind of company, and, no person being
willing to trust him, was reduced to great distress. It now became necessary that he
should work for his bread; and, being tolerably well skilled in ship-building, he got
employment under a master-builder, who was a Quaker, and who treated him with the
greatest indulgence.
The Quaker was an elderly man, who bad a young wife, with whom
Richardson wished to be better acquainted: he therefore one day quitted his work and
went home to the house; but he had but just arrived there when he was followed by
the old man, who came in search of him, and found him talking to his wife. The
Quaker asked him what business he had there, and why be did not keep at his work.
Richardson replied that he only came home for an auger: to which the Quaker said,
'Ah! friend John, I do not much like thee; my wife knows nothing of thy tools, and I
fear thou hadst some evil thoughts in thy head.'
Hereupon Richardson went back to his work without making any reply, but
soon afterwards demanded his wages. The Quaker hesitated to pay him, hinting that
he was apprehensive his wife had paid him already; on which Richardson said he
would sue him for the debt, and desired him to consider that, if he made such an
excuse in open court, he would be disgraced through the country.
On this the Quaker paid his demand, but absolutely forbade him ever to come
within his house again; Richardson promising to obey, and intending to have
complied with the injunction.
About eight days afterwards, the old gentleman, having some business up the
country to purchase timber, desired his young wife to accompany him, to prevent any
ill consequences that might arise in his absence. To avoid this journey, the lady
feigned indisposition, and took to her bed.
The husband had not been long gone before Richardson, meeting the maid-
servant in the street, asked after the health of her mistress, who, the girl said, wanted
to see him; and he promised to wait upon her about nine in the evening.
Punctual to his engagement he attended the lady, and renewed his visits to her
till the return of her husband was apprehended, when he broke open a chest, stole
about seventy pounds, and immediately agreed with Captain Jones for his passage to
Philadelphia.
When he arrived at the last-mentioned place, he took lodgings at the house of a
widow who had two daughters; and, paying his addresses to the mother, he was so
successful, that for four months, while he continued there, he acted as if be had been
master of the house.
After this intimacy with the mother had continued some time, he became
attached to one of the daughters; and on a Sunday, when the rest of the family were
absent, found an opportunity of being alone with her; but the mother, returning at this
juncture, interrupted their conversation, and expressed her anger in the most violent
terms.
Nor was this all, for when she was alone with the offender she severely
reproached him; but be made his peace by pretending an uncommon attachment to
her; yet within a month she found him taking equal freedoms with her second
daughter. Upon this the mother became outrageous, and told him that the consequence
of his connexion with the other girl was, that she was already pregnant. Richardson
now quarrelled in his turn, and told her that if her daughter was breeding she must
procure her a husband, for he would have nothing to do with her.
At length, when the old woman's passions were in some degree calmed, he
represented to her the impossibility of his marrying both her daughters; but said that,
if she could procure a husband for one of them, he would take the other.
The old lady soon procured a young man to marry one of her daughters, and
then constantly teazed Richardson to wed the other, which he steadily refused to do
unless she would advance him a sum of money. She hesitated for some time; but at
length said she would give him a hundred pounds, and half her plate; on which he
consented, and the marriage was solemnized; but he had no sooner possessed himself
of this little fortune than he embarked on board a ship bound for South Carolina.
Within a month after his arrival in this colony he became acquainted with one
Captain Roberts, with whom he sailed as mate and carpenter to Jamaica, and during
the voyage was treated in the most friendly manner. The business in Jamaica being
dispatched, they returned to Carolina.
The owner of the ship living at some distance up the country, and the winter
advancing, the captain fixed on Richardson as a proper person to sleep on board and
take care of the vessel. This he did for some time, till about a week before Christmas,
when he was invited to an entertainment to be given on occasion of the birth-day of
his owner's only daughter.
A moderate share of skill in singing and dancing recommended Richardson to
the notice of the company, and in particular to that of the young lady, by which he
hoped to profit on a future occasion.
In the following month it happened that a wedding was to be celebrated at the
house of a friend of the owner, on which occasion Richardson was sent for; and when
he appeared the young lady welcomed him wishing that he would oblige the company
with a dance; to which be replied, that he should he happy to oblige the company in
general, and her in particular.
Richardson, having been a partner with the young lady during the dancing at
the wedding, begged leave to conduct her home; and, when the ceremonies of the
wedding were ended, he had the honour to attend her to her abode. When they had got
into the midst of a thick wood he pretended to be ill, and said he must get off his horse
and sit down on the ground. She likewise dismounted, and they walked together under
the shade of a chestnut-tree, where they remained till the approach of evening, when
he conducted her home, after having received very convincing proofs of her kindness.
Going to his ship for that night, he went to her father's house on the following
day, and found an opportunity of speaking to her, when he entreated her to admit of
his occasional visits; but she said there were so many negro servants about the house
that it would be impossible. On this he said he would conduct her to the ship when the
family were asleep; and the girl foolishly consenting to this proposal, the intrigue was
carried on for a fortnight, when she became so apprehensive of a discovery that she
would go no longer.
But the lovers being uneasy asunder, they bribed an old female negro, who
constantly let Richardson into the young lady's chamber when the rest of the family
were retired to rest.
At length the mother discovered that her daughter was with child, and charged
her to declare who was the father, on which she confessed that it was Richardson. The
mother acquainting her husband with the circumstance, the old gentleman sent for
Richardson to supper, and, after rallying him on his prowess, told him that he must
marry and support his daughter. Richardson said it was out of his power to support
her; but the father promising his assistance, the marriage took place.
Soon afterwards the old gentleman gave his son-in-law the ship, and a good
cargo, as a marriage portion, and Richardson embarked on a trading voyage to
Barbadoes; but he had not been many days at sea when a violent storm arose, in which
he lost his vessel and cargo, and he and his crew were obliged to take to the boat to
save their lives.
After driving some days at sea, they were taken up by a vessel which carried
them to St. Kitt's, where Richardson soon met with a Captain Jones, who told him that
one of his wives had died of a broken heart. This circumstance, added to that of the
loss of his ship, drove him distracted; so that he was confined to his chamber for four
months.
On his recovery he went mate with the captain who had carried him to St.
Kitt's; but, quitting this station in about five months, he sailed to Antigua, where a
young gentleman, who happened to be in company with Richardson, was so delighted
with his skill in dancing a hornpipe, that be invited him to his father's house, where he
was entertained for a fortnight with the utmost hospitality.
One day, as he was rambling with the young gentleman to take a view of some
of the plantations, Richardson stopped on a sudden, and, putting his hand to his
pocket, pretended to have lost his purse, containing twenty pistoles. The young
gentleman told him there was more money in Antigua. 'True,' said Richard son, 'but I
am a stranger here; I am a Creolian from Meovis.' On this the other asked, 'Do you
belong to the Richardsons at Meovis I know their character well.'
Our adventurer, aware that the governor of Meovis was named Richardson,
had the confidence to declare that be was his son; on which the other exclaimed, 'You
his son, and want money in Antigua! No, no; only draw a bill upon your father, and I
will engage that mine shall help you to the money.'
The project of raising cash in this manner delighted Richardson; and the young
gentleman's father was no sooner acquainted with the pretended circumstance than he
expressed a willingness to supply him with a hundred pistoles, on which he drew a
bill on his supposed father for the above-mentioned sum, and received the money.
About a week afterwards be wrote a letter to his imputed father, informing him
how generously he bad been treated by his friends in Antigua, and subscribing himself
his 'dutiful son.' This letter he intrusted to the care of a person in whom he could
confide, with strict orders not to deliver it; and, when as much time had elapsed as
might warrant the expectation of an answer, he employed the mate of a ship to write a
letter to the old gentleman, as from his supposed father, thanking him for his civilities
to his son.
The gentleman was greatly pleased at the receipt of this letter, which be said
contained more compliments than his conduct had deserved; and be told Richardson
that be might have any farther sum of money that be wanted. On this our adventurer,
who was determined to take every advantage of the credulity of his new acquaintance,
drew another bill for a hundred pistoles, and soon afterwards decamped.
He now embarked on board a vessel bound to Jamaica, and, on his arrival at
Port Royal, purchased a variety of goods of a Jew merchant; which, with other goods
that the Jew gave him credit for, he shipped on board a trader to Carthagena, where be
disposed of them: but he never went back to discharge his debt to the Jew.
From Carthagena he sailed to Vera Cruz, and thence to England, where he
took lodgings with one Thomas Ballard, who kept a public house at Chatham. Now it
happened that Ballard had a brother, who, having gone abroad many years before, had
never been heard of. Richardson bearing a great resemblance to this brother, the
publican conceived a strong idea that he was the same, and asked if his name was not
Ballard. At first be answered in the negative; but finding the warm prepossession of
the other, and expecting to make some advantage of his credulity, he at length
acknowledged that he was his brother.
Richardson now lived in a sumptuous manner, and without any expense; and
Ballard was never more uneasy than when any one doubted of the reality of the
relationship. At length Ballard told Richardson that their two sisters were living at
Sittingbourne, and persuaded him to go on a visit to them, to which Richardson
readily agreed: the two sisters had no recollection of this man; however, Ballard
having persuaded them that he was the real brother who had been so long absent,
great rejoicings were made on account of his safe arrival in his native country.
After a week of festivity it became necessary for Ballard to return to his
business at Chatham: but the sisters, unwilling to part with their newly found brother,
persuaded him to remain awhile at Sittingbourne, and told him that their mother, who
had been extremely fond of him, had left him twenty pounds, and the mare on which
she used to ride; and in a short time he received the legacies.
During his residence with his presumptive sisters be became acquainted with
Anne and Sarah Knolding, and, finding that their relations were deceased, and that
Anne was left guardian to her sister, be paid his addresses to the former, who was
weak enough to trust him with her money, bonds, writings, and the deeds of her
estate. Hereupon be immediately went to Chatham, where he mortgaged the estate for
three hundred pounds, and thence went to Gravesend, where he shipped himself on
hoard a vessel bound for Venice.
On his arrival at that place he hired a house, and lived unemployed till be had
spent the greater part of his money; when he sold off his effects and went to Ancona,
where he became acquainted with Captain Benjamin Hartley, who had come thither
with a lading of pilchards, and on board whose ship was Richard Coyle, the other
offender mentioned in this narrative.
Captain Hartley being in want of a carpenter, Richardson agreed to serve him
in that capacity; and the ship sailed on a voyage to Turkey where the captain took in a
lading of corn, and then sailed for Leghorn. On the first night of this voyage, Coyle,
who was chief mate, came on deck to Richardson, and asked him if he would he
concerned in a secret plot to murder the captain and seize the vessel. Richardson at
first hesitated; but he at length agreed to take his share in the villainy.
The plan being concerted, they went to the captain's cabin about midnight,
with an intention of murdering him; but, getting from them, he ran up the shrouds,
whither he was followed by Richardson and a seaman named Larson. The captain
descended too quick for them, and as soon as be gained the deck Coyle attempted to
shoot him with a blunderbuss, which missing fire, Mr. Hartley wrested it from his
hands, and threw it into the sea.
This being done, Coyle and some others of the sailors heaved the captain
overboard; but, as be hung by the ship's side, Coyle gave him several blows which
rather stunned him; as, however, he did not let go his hold, Richardson seized an axe,
with which he struck him so forcibly that be dropped into the sea.
Coyle now assumed the command of the ship, and, Richardson being
appointed mate, they sailed towards the island of Malta, where they intended to have
refitted; but some of the crew objecting to putting in there, they agreed to go to
Minorca. When they came opposite Cape Cona, on the coast of Barbary, the weather
became so foul that they were compelled to lie-to for several days, after which they
determined to sail for Foviniano, an island under the dominion of Spain.
Arriving at this place, they sent on shore for water and fresh provisions; but as
they had come from Turkey, and could not produce letters of health, it was not
possible for them to procure what they wanted.
It had been a practice with the pirates to keep watch alternately, in company
with some boys who were on board; but during the night, while they lay at anchor off
this place, two of the men destined to watch fell asleep: on which two of the boys
hauled up a boat and went ashore, where they informed the governor of what had
passed on hoard.
One of the parties who should have watched being awaked, he ran and called
Richardson, whom he informed that the boys were gone; on which Richardson said it
was time for them to be gone likewise; they therefore hauled up the long-boat without
loss of time, and, putting on board her such things as would be immediately
necessary, set sail, in the hope of making their escape.
In the interim the governor sent down a party of soldiers to take care of the
ship, and prevent the escape of the pirates; but, it being quite dark, they could not
discern the vessel, though she lay very near the shore: but, when they heard the
motion of the oars, they fired at the pirates, who all escaped unwounded.
Steering towards Tunis, they stopped at a small island called Maritime, where
they diverted themselves with killing rabbits: for, though the place is apparently little
more than a barren rock, yet it so abounds with these animals that a man may easily
kill a thousand in a day.
Leaving this place, they stopped twelve miles short of Tunis, where
Richardson was apprehended, and carried before the governor, who asking whence he
came, he told him he was master of a vessel, which having been lost off the coast of
Sardinia, be was necessitated to take to his long-boat, and had been driven thither by
distress of weather.
This story being credited, the governor seemed con erned for the fate of him
and his companions, and recommended them to the house of an Italian, where they
might be accommodated; sending, in the mean time, to the English consul, to inform
him that his countrymen were in distress.
When they had been about a fortnight at this place Richardson sold the long-
boat, and, having divided the produce among his companions, he went to Tunis to be
examined by the English consul, to whom he told the same story that he had
previously told the governor: on which the consul ordered him to make a formal
protest thereof, for the benefit of the owners and their own security.
Hereupon the consul supplied him with money, which he shared with his
companions. Coyle kept himself continually drunk with the money he had received,
and, during his intoxication, spoke so freely of their transactions, that he was taken
into custody by order of the consul, and sent to England; and Richardson would have
also been apprehended, but, being upon his guard, and learning what had happened to
his companion, he embarked on board a ship bound for Tripoli, where he arrived in
safety.
At this place he drew a bill on an English merchant of Leghorn, by which he
obtained twenty pounds, and then embarked for the island of Malta; he sailed from
thence to Saragossa, in the island of Sicily, whence going to Messina, he was known
by a gentleman who bad lived at Ancona, and who, remembering his engagement in
the service of Captain Hartley, bad him apprehended on suspicion of the murder.
He remained in prison at Messina nine months: on which be wrote a petition to
the King of Naples, setting forth that he had been a servant to his father, and praying
the royal orders for his release. In consequence of this petition the governor of
Messina was commanded to set him at liberty; on which be travelled to Rome, and
thence to Civita Vecchia, where he hoped to get employment on board the Pope's
gallies in consequence of having turned Roman Catholic.
While he was at Civita Vecchia be became known to Captain Blomet, who
invited bin, with other company, on board his ship: when the company was gone, the
captain showed him a letter, in which he was described as one of the murderers of
Captain Hartley. Richardson denied the charge; but the captain calling down some
hands, be was put in irons, and sent to Leghorn, whence be was transmitted to Lisbon:
here he remained three months, and being then put on board the packet-boat, and
brought to Falmouth, be was conveyed to London. Richardson was lodged first in the
Marshalsea, but afterwards removed to Newgate; and, being tried at the Old Bailey,
received sentence of death, along with Coyle, for the murder of Captain Hartley.
Richard Coyle was a native of Devonshire, and born near Exeter. His parents
having given him such an education as was proper to qualify him for a maritime life,
be was apprenticed to the master of a trading vessel, and served his time with
reputation to himself and satisfaction to his employer.
When his time was expired, he made several voyages in ships of war, and
likewise served on board various merchantmen; he had also been master of a ship for
seventeen years, generally sailing from, and returning to, the port of London. In these
commands he maintained a good character; but, meeting with misfortunes, he was
reduced to serve as mate in different ships; and at length sailed with Captain Hartley,
bound to the Levant, when he became acquainted with Richardson, as already related.
After conviction Coyle acknowledged the equity of the sentence against him
and, in some letters to his friends, confessed his penitence for the crime of which he
had been guilty, and his readiness to yield his life as an atonement for his offences.
With respect to Richardson, he seemed regardless of the dreadful fate that
awaited him; and, having lived a life of vice and dissipation, appeared altogether
indifferent to the manner in which that life should end.
The above-mentioned malefactors were hanged at Execution Dock on the 25th
of January, 1738.
With regard to Coyle, we do not hear that he had been guilty of any notorious
crime but that for which he died; but the life of Richardson was such a continued
scene of irregularity, deception, and fraud, as is almost unequalled. His treachery to
the many unhappy women of whom he pretended to be enamoured was, alone,
deserving of the fate which finally fell to his lot.
GEORGE MANLEY
Executed at Wicklow, in Ireland, in August, 1738, for murder.
WE have no particulars, either of the life of this criminal, or the circumstances
attending the horrid crime for which he was executed. We have, indeed, found a note,
briefly naming the case of George Manley, but evidently inserted for the purpose of
introducing a singular speech, made by him to the spectators, at the place of
execution, which evinces strong natural abilities, and a knowledge of mankind,
seldom found in criminals of his description. As we have never met with a dying
speech so satirical and severe upon the general turpitude of mankind, we readily
present it to our readers. Be it said, that this man was hardened, fearless, or mad; we
exclaim with Shakespeare, "If this be madness, there is method in it."
George Manley, having arrived at the place of execution, behaved in a strange
and undaunted manner, addressing the spectators thus:
"My Friends,
"You assemble to see — What? — A man take a leap into the abyss of death.
Look, and you shall see me go, with as much courage as Curtius, when he leapt into
the gulf to save his country from destruction. What then will will you see of me!—
You say, that no man without virtue can be courageous. You see, I am courageous.
You'll say, I have killed a man. — Marlborough killed his thousands, and Alexander
his millions: Marlborough and Alexander, and many others who have done the like,
are famous in history for Great Men. But I killed one solitary man. — Aye, that's the
case. — One solitary man. I'm a little murderer, and must be hanged. Marlborough
and Alexander plundered countries — They were Great Men. I ran in debt with the
ale-wife, I must be hanged.
"Now, my friends, I have drawn a parallel between two of the greatest men
that ever lived, and myself; but these were men of former days. Now I'll speak a word
of some of the present days: How many men were lost in Italy and upon the Rhine,
during the last war, for settling a king in Poland? Both sides could not be in the right;
they are Great Men; but I killed a solitary man, I'm a little fellow. The King of Spain
takes our ships, plunders our merchants, kills and tortures our men; but what of all
that? What he does is good; he's a Great Man, he is clothed in purple, his instruments
of murder are bright and shining, mine was, but a rusty gun; and so much for
comparison.
"Now, I would fain know, what authority there is in Scripture for a rich man to
murder, to plunder, to torture, and ravage whole countries; and what law it is, that
condemns a poor man to death for killing a solitary man, or for stealing a solitary
sheep to feed his family. But bring the matter closer to our own country: What is the
difference between running in a poor man's debt, and by the power of gold, or any
other privilege, preventing him from. obtaining his right; and clapping a pistol to a
man's breast, and taking from him his purse? Yet the one shall thereby obtain a coach,
and honours, and titles, &c. The other — What? — A cart and a rope.
"From what I have said, my brethren, you may, perhaps, imagine I am
hardened; but believe me, I am fully convinced of my follies, and acknowledge the
just judgment of God has overtaken me: I have no hopes, but from the merits of my
Redeemer, who I hope will have mercy on me, as he knows that murder was far from
my heart, and what I did was through rage and passion, being provoked thereto by the
deceased.
Take warning, my dear comrades: Think! O think! what I would now give,
that I had lived another life."
RICHARD TURPIN
A famous Highway Robber, who shot dead one of his own Comrades and
was executed at York on 7th of April, 1739
Dick Turpin in his Cave in Epping Forest
This notorious character was for a long time the dread of travellers on the
Essex road, on account of the daring robberies which he daily committed; was also a
noted house-breaker, and was for a considerable time remarkably successful in his
desperate course, but was at length brought to an ignominious end, in consequence of
circumstances which, in themselves, may appear trifling. He was apprehended in
consequence of shooting a fowl, and his brother refusing to pay sixpence for the
postage of his letter occasioned his conviction.
He was the son of a farmer at Thackstead in Essex; and, having received a
common school education, was apprenticed to a butcher in Whitechapel; but was
distinguished from his early youth for the impropriety of his behaviour, and the
brutality of his manners. On the expiration of his apprenticeship, he married a young
woman of East Ham, in Essex, named Palmer: but he had not been long married
before he took to the practice of stealing his neighbours' cattle, which he used to kill
and cut up for sale.
Having stolen two oxen belonging to Mr. Giles, of Plaistow, he drove them to
his own house; but two of Giles's servants, suspecting who was the robber, went to
Turpin's where they saw two beasts of such size as had been lost: but as the hides
were stripped from them, it was impossible to say that they were the same: but
learning that Turpin used to dispose of his hides at Waltham-Abbey, they went thither,
and saw the hides of the individual beasts that had been stolen.
No doubt now remaining who was the robber, a warrant was procured for the
apprehension of Turpin; but, learning that the peace-officers were in search of him, he
made his escape from the back window of his house, at the very moment that the
others were entering at the door.
Having retreated to a place of security, he found means to inform his wife
where he was concealed; on which 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; till a set of the Custom house officers, by one
successful 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 this business not succeeding to the expectation
of the robbers, they determined to commence house-breakers.
Their plan was to fix on houses that they presumed contained any valuable
property; and, while one of them knocked at the door, the others were to rush in, and
seize 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 abuse.
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 declined 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 400l. and decamped with the booty.
Dick Turpin placing an old woman on the fire, to compel the discovery of her
treasure
Some little time after this they agreed to rob the house of a farmer near
Barking; and knocking at the door, the people declined to open it; on which they
broke it open; and having bound the farmer, his wife, his son-in-law, and the servant
maid, they robbed the house of above 700l.; which delighted Turpin so much that he
exclaimed, "Aye, this will do if it would always be so!" and the robbers retired with
their prize, which amounted to above 80l. for each of them.
This desperate gang, now flushed with success, determined to attack the house
of Mr. Mason, the keeper of Epping Forest; and the time was affixed when the plan
was to be carried into execution; but Turpin having gone to London, to spend his
share of the former booty, intoxicated himself to such a degree, that he totally forgot
the appointment.
Nevertheless, the rest of the gang resolved, that the absence of their
companion should not frustrate the proposed design; and having taken a solemn oath
to break every article of furniture in Mason's house, they set out on their expedition.
Having gained admission, they beat and kicked the unhappy man with great
severity. Finding an old man sifting by the fire-side they permitted him to remain
uninjured; and Mr. Mason's daughter escaped their fury, by running out of the house,
and taking shelter in a hog-sty.
After ransacking the lower part of the house, and doing much mischief, they
went up stairs, where they broke every thing that fell in their way, and among the rest
a china punchbowl, from which dropped one hundred and twenty guineas, which they
made prey of, and effected their escape. They now went to London, in search of
Turpin, with whom they shared the booty, though he had not taken an active part in
the execution of the villainy.
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. Having
made prize of a silver snuff-box which lay on the table a part of the gang stood guard
over the rest of the company, while the others attended Mr. Saunders through the
house, and breaking open his escritoires and closets, stole about 100l. exclusive of
plate.
During these transactions the servant maid ran up stairs, barring the door of
her room, and called out, "Thieves!" with a view of alarming the neighbourhood; but
the robbers broke open the door of her room, secured her, and then robbed the house
of all the valuable property they had not before taken. Finding some minced-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 fainting through terror, they 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, having first declared, 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.
The division of the plunder having taken place, they, on the 18th of the same
month, went to the house of Mr. Sheldon, near Croydon, in Surrey, where they arrived
about seven in the evening. Having got into the yard, they perceived a light in the
stable, and going into it, found the coachman attending his horses. Having
immediately bound him, they quitted the stable, and meeting Mr. Sheldon in the yard,
they seized him, and compelling him to conduct them into the house, they stole eleven
guineas, with the jewels, plate, and other things of value, to a large amount. Having
committed this robbery, they returned Mr. Sheldon two guineas, and apologized for
their conduct.
This being done, they hastened to the Black Horse, in the Broad-way,
Westminster, where they concerted the robbery of Mr. Lawrence, of Edgware, near
Stanmore, in Middlesex, for which place they set out on the 4th of February, and
arrived at a public-house in that village, about five o'clock in the evening. From this
place they went to Mr. Lawrence's house, where they arrived about seven o'clock, just
as he had discharged some people who had worked for him.
Having quitted their horses at the outer gate, one of the robbers going
forwards, found a boy who had lust returned from folding his sheep; the rest of the
gang following, a pistol was presented and instant destruction threatened if he made
any noise. They then took off his garters, and tied his hands, and told him to direct
them to the door, and when they knocked, to answer, and bid the servants open it, in
which case they would not hurt him; but when the boy came to the door he was so
terrified that he could not speak; on which one of the gang knocked, and a man
servant, imagining it was one of the neighbours, opened the door, whereupon they all
rushed in, armed with pistols.
Having seized Mr. Lawrence and his servant, they threw a cloth over their
faces, and taking the boy into another room, demanded what fire-arms were in the
house; to which he replied, 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 old 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: but that not
being sufficient to satisfy them, they threatened to murder Mr. Lawrence, each of
them destining him to a different death, as the savageness of his own nature prompted
him. At length 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 maidservant 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 in
the parlour, threw the key in 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 for the apprehension of the offenders, promising a pardon to
any one of them who would impeach his accomplices; and a reward of 50l. was
offered, to be paid on conviction. This, however, had no effect; the robbers continued
their depredations as before; and, flushed with the success they had met with, seemed
to bid defiance to the laws.
On the 7th of February, six of them assembled at the White Bear Inn, in
Drury-lane, where they agreed to rob the house of Mr. Francis, a farmer near Mary-le-
bone. Arriving at the place, they found a servant in the cow-house, whom they bound
fast, and threatened to murder, if he was not perfectly silent. This being done, they led
him into the stable, where finding another of the servants, they bound him in the same
manner.
In the interim Mr. Francis happening to come home, they presented their
pistols to his breast, and threatened instant destruction to him, if he made the least
noise or opposition. Having bound the master in the stable with his servants, they
rushed into the house, tied Mrs. Francis, her daughter, and the maidservant, and beat
them in a most cruel manner. One of the thieves stood as a sentry while the rest rifled
the house, in which they found a silver tankard, a medal of Charles the First, 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 100l. 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.
On a journey towards Cambridge, he met a man genteelly dressed, and well
mounted: and expecting a good booty, he presented a pistol to the supposed
gentleman, and demanded his money. The party thus stopped happened to be one
King, a famous highwayman, who knew Turpin; and when the latter threatened
destruction if he did not deliver his money, King burst into a fit of laughter, and said,
"What, dog eat dog? — Come, come, brother Turpin; if you don't know me, I know
you, and shall be glad of your company."
These brethren in iniquity soon struck the bargain, and immediately entering
on business, committed a number of robberies; till 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.
This cave was inclosed within a sort of thicket of bushes and brambles,
through which they could look and see passengers on the road, while themselves
remained unobserved.
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:
and, while they were in this retreat, Turpin's wife used to supply them with
necessaries, and frequently remained in the cave during the night.
Having taken a ride as far as Bungay, in Suffolk, they observed two young
women 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. Bradele, of
London, who was riding in his chariot with his children. The gentleman, seeing only
one robber, was pre paring to make resistance, when King called to Turpin to hold the
horses. They took from the gentleman his watch, money, and an old mourning ring;
but returned the latter, as he declared that its intrinsic value was trifling, yet 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 ye, Jack? — Here seems
to be a good honest fellow; shall we let him have the watch?" — Turpin replied, "Do
as you please;" on which King said to the gentleman, "You must pay six guineas for
it: we never sell for more, though the watch should be worth six and thirty." The
gentleman promised that the money should be left at the Dial, in Birchin-lane.
On the 4th of May, 1737, Turpin was guilty of murder, which arose from the
following circumstance: A reward of 1001. having been offered for apprehending
him, one Thomas Morris, a servant of Mr. Thompson, one of the keepers of Epping
Forest, accompanied by a higgler, set out in order to apprehend him. Turpin seeing
them approach near his dwelling, Mr. Thompson's man having a gun, he mistook
them for poachers; on which he said, there were no hares near that thicket: "No, (said
Morris) but I have found a Turpin;" and presenting his gun required him to surrender.
Dick Turpin shooting Thoimas Morris
Hereupon Turpin spoke to him, as in a friendly manner, and gradually
retreated at the same time, till having seized his own gun, he shot him dead on the
spot, and the higgler ran off with the utmost precipitation.
This murder being represented to the Secretary of State, the following
proclamation was issued by government, which we give a place to, from its describing
the person of this notorious depredator.
"It having been represented to the King, that Richard Turpin did, on
Wednesday, the 4th of May last, barbarously murder Thomas Morris, servant to
Henry Thompson, one of the keepers of Epping Forest, and commit other notorious
felonies and robberies, near London, his Majesty is pleased to promise his most
gracious pardon to any of his accomplices, and a reward of 200l. to any person or
persons that shall discover him, so that he may be apprehended and convicted. Turpin
was born at Thackstead, in Essex, is about thirty, by trade a butcher, about five feet
nine inches high, very much marked with the small-pox, his cheek-bones broad, his
face thinner towards the bottom; his visage short, pretty upright, and broad about the
shoulders."
Turpin, to avoid the proclamation, went further into the country in search of
his old companion King: and in the mean time sent a letter to his wife, to meet him at
a public-house at Hertford. The woman attended according to this direction; and her
husband coming into the house soon after she arrived, a butcher, to whom he owed
five pounds, happened to see him; on which he said, "Come, Dick, I know you have
money now; and if you will pay me, it will be of great service."
Turpin told him that his wife was in the next room; that she had money, and
that he should he paid immediately; 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.
Turpin having found King, and a man named Potter, who had lately connected
himself with them, they set off towards London, in the dusk of the evening; but when
they came near the Green Man, on Epping Forest, they overtook a Mr. Major, who
riding on a very fine horse, and Turpin's beast being jaded he obliged the rider to
dismount, and exchange horses.
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, and that the horse which he exchanged must have been
stolen.
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 Mr. Major had 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. Hereupon 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 duffel coat, was waiting for the
horse in Red Lion-street; on which the company going thither, saw King, who drew a
pistol attempted to fire it, but it flashed in the pan; he then endeavoured to draw out
another pistol, but he could not, as it got entangled in his pocket.
At this time Turpin was watching at a small distance and riding towards the
spot, King cried out, "Shoot him, or we are taken;" on which Turpin fired, and shot
his companion, who called out, "Dick, you have killed me;" which the other hearing,
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 did Turpin skulk about the forest, having been
deprived of his retreat in the cave since he shot the servant of Mr. Thompson. On the
examination of this cave there were found two shirts, two pairs of stockings, a piece
of ham, and a part of a bottle of wine.
Some vain attempts were made to take this notorious offender into custody;
and among the rest, the huntsman of a gentleman in the neighbourhood went in search
of him with blood-hounds. Turpin perceiving them, and recollecting that King Charles
II. evaded his pursuers under covert of the friendly branches of the oak, mounted one
of those trees under which the hounds passed, to his inexpressible terror, so that he
determined to make a retreat into Yorkshire.
Going first 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 either sold or exchanged them.
He often accompanied the neighbouring gentlemen on their parties of hunting
and shooting; and one evening, on a return from an expedition of the latter kind, he
wantonly shot a cock belonging to his landlord. On this Mr. Hall, a neighbour, said,
"You have done wrong in shooting your landlord's cock;" to which Turpin replied,
that if he would stay while he loaded his gun, he would shoot him also.
Irritated by this insult, Mr. Hall informed the landlord of what had passed; and
application being made to some magistrates, a warrant was granted for the
apprehension of the offender, who being taken into custody, and carried before a
bench of justices, then assembled at the quarter-sessions, at Beverley, they demanded
security for his good behaviour, which he being unable, or unwilling to give, was
committed to Bridewell.
On inquiry it appeared that he made frequent journeys into Lincolnshire, and
on his return always abounded in money, and was likewise in possession of several
horses; so that it was conjectured he was a horse-stealer and highwayman.
On this the magistrates went to him on the following day, and demanded who
he was, where he lived, and what was his employment? He replied in substance, "that
about two years ago he had lived at Long Sutton, in Lincolnshire, and was by trade a
butcher, but that having contracted several debts, for sheep that proved rotten, he was
obliged to abscond, and come to live in Yorkshire."
The magistrates not being satisfied with this tale, commissioned the clerk of
the peace to write into Lincolnshire, to make the necessary inquiries respecting the
supposed John Palmer. The letter was carried by a special messenger, who brought an
answer from the magistrate in the neighbourhood, importing that John Palmer was
well known, though he had never carried on trade there: that he had been accused of
sheep-stealing for which he had been in custody but had made his escape from the
peace officers: and that there were several informations lodged against him for horse-
stealing.
Hereupon the magistrates thought it prudent to remove him to York Castle,
where he had not been more than a month, when two persons from Lincolnshire came
and claimed a mare and foal, and likewise a horse, which he had stolen in that county.
After he had been about four month in prison, he wrote the following letter to
his brother in Essex:
"Dear Brother,
York, Feb. 6, 1739.
"I am sorry to acquaint 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 being apprehended, so that it would pass off the readier. For
Heaven's sake dear brother, do not neglect me; you will know what I mean, when I
say,
I am yours,
"JOHN PALMER."
This letter being returned, unopened, to the Post-Office in Essex, because the
brother would not pay the postage of it, was accidentally seen by Mr. Smith, a school-
master, who having taught Turpin to write, immediately knew his hand, on which he
carried the letter to a magistrate, who broke it open; by which it was discovered that
the supposed John Palmer was the real Richard Turpin.
Hereupon the magistrates of Essex dispatched Mr. Smith to York, who
immediately selected him from all the other prisoners in the castle. This Mr. Smith,
and another gentle man, afterwards proved his identity on his trial.
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 very 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. The father did what was in his power: but the notoriety
of his character was such, that no persons would exert themselves in his favour.
This man lived in the most gay and thoughtless manner after conviction,
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 purchased 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,
he hired five poor men, at ten shillings each, to follow the cart as mourners: and he
gave hatbands and gloves to several other persons: and he also left a ring, and some
other articles, to a married woman in Lincolnshire, with whom he had been
acquainted.
On the morning of his death he was put into a cart, and being followed by his
mourners, as above-mentioned, 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; when his right leg
trembling, he stamped it down with an air of assumed courage, as if he was ashamed
of discovering 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.
The spectators of the execution were affected at his fate, as he 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,
with the initials of his name, and his age. The grave was dug remarkably deep, but
notwithstanding the people who acted as mourners took such measures as they
thought would secure the body: it was carried off about three o'clock on the following
morning; the populace, however, got intimation whither it was conveyed, and found it
in a garden belonging to one of the surgeons of the city.
Having got possession of it they laid it on a board, and carried it through the
streets in a kind of triumphal manner, they then filled the coffin with unslacked lime,
and buried it in the grave where it had been before deposited.
DAVID ROBERTS
Executed for high treason, in diminishing the gold coin of the realm, April 3,
1739.
This malefactor, who was a native of Chepstow, in Monmouthshire, was
apprenticed to a joiner; but quitting his master's service, he worked some time as a
journeyman at the Devizes, in Wiltshire, where he married a wife with a fortune of
three hundred pounds.
His wife dying in childbed, he remained at the Devizes a considerable time,
during which he dissipated all his wife's fortune, except about forty pounds, with
which he came to London, and took lodgings with a widow, who kept a public-house.
Roberts soon became so intimate with the widow, that she told him it was necessary
he should marry her. He embraced the proposal, imagining that it would procure him
a decent establishment in life; but being frequently arrested for debts contracted by his
wife previous to the marriage, he sold the household furniture to a broker, and left her
to provide for herself.
He now engaged in partnership with his brother, a carpenter in Southwark, and
saved a considerable sum of money. He next embarked in business for himself, and
obtained a large share of credit, but, when his debts became due, he took lodgings
within the rules of the King's Bench, in order to evade their payment.
Even while in this situation he undertook a piece of work by which he made
three hundred pounds profit; and might have gained more, but that he quarrelled with
his employer. At this period, one Sarah Bristow, who had been transported for a
felony, returned after the expiration of a year, and becoming acquainted with Roberts,
lived with him as his wife for a considerable time. She went with him to Bristol,
where he rented an inn, which he furnished on credit: but one of his London creditors
getting notice of his retreat, arrested him, and Roberts standing trial, cast him on some
informality in the Writ, he, however, thought it imprudent to remain, and shipping his
effects for London, he and Mrs. Bristow came to town, and lodged again within the
rules of the Bench.
Notwithstanding his situation, he took an inn at Coventry, but was observed by
a timber-merchant named Smith, to whom he owed fifty-five pounds. Mr. Smith
finding that Roberts had taken the house, arrested him for the above sum. Roberts
found means to compromise this affair; but his other creditors learning whither he had
retired, it became necessary to conceal himself.
Roberts, thinking it would be unsafe to remain in Coventry, commissioned
Mrs. Bristow to purchase such goods as she could get on credit, with a view to carry
them off to some place where they were not known.
He now came to London, leaving Mrs. Bristow to send the goods by a
waggon; but some of the creditors, having intelligence of what was intended, attached
them.
Mrs. Bristow wrote to Roberts, giving a short account of what had happened;
on which he sent one Carter to obtain a full information: but not hearing from him as
he expected, Roberts set out for Coventry, notwithstanding the risk to which he
exposed himself.
On his arrival he found the house nearly stripped, and Mrs. Bristow and Carter
in a high degree of intimacy. However, he did not stay long to examine into the state
of affairs, being advised to retire to London, with all expedition.
Roberts now moved the Court of King's Bench for a rule against his creditors,
to shew cause why they had attached his goods, and the Court recommending an
arbitration, it was awarded that Roberts should receive one hundred and thirty pounds,
and give his creditors a bill of sale for the lease and effects: on his receiving this sum,
Carter applied to him to borrow twenty pounds, with which he said he could acquire a
fortune, by purchasing a liquid that would dissolve gold, but Roberts would not lend
him the money; Carter, however, found means to raise it, and took to the practice of
diminishing the coin, in which he was so successful that he soon abounded in cash.
Roberts became very anxious to know the secret, but the other refusing to discover it,
he determined on a practice equally dishonest and dangerous, which was that of filing
gold. When he had filed off as much dust as was worth ten pounds, Mrs. Bristow stole
the box and sold the contents; after this he employed a person at half-a-crown a day to
sell the filings, but, not agreeing together, he determined to act for himself; and,
having sold a quantity of dust to a refiner, went to a public-house near Hicks's Hall,
kept by a Mr. Rogers, whom he asked to give him a bank-note for some gold. Rogers,
on feeling the guineas, found that some of the dust stuck to his fingers; on which he
said, "What have we got here? The fellow who filed these guineas ought to be hanged
for doing his business in so clumsy a manner." Without saying more, he stepped out,
and procured a constable, who took Roberts into custody; but after detaining him six
hours, discharged him on his own authority.
Roberts prosecuted the publican and constable for false imprisonment; but
failed in the suit, and an evidence in his behalf was committed on a charge of perjury,
while the publican was bound to prosecute Roberts, who lodged privately at Islington.
While he was in this retreat, and forming a design to go to Lisbon, Mrs.
Bristow brought him a newspaper, in which his person was described; whereupon
they went together to Chatham, and thence to Ramsgate, where they met Mrs.
Bristow's brother, who was likewise included in the advertisement, and they all went
on board a vessel bound for Calais, but quarrelling among themselves, the captain
gave orders that they should be landed at Dover. Provoked by this, Roberts threw the
captain into the sea, and if the boat had not been sent to take him up, he must
infallibly have been drowned. The captain was no sooner on board than Roberts took
the helm, and steered the vessel to her port; where Mrs. Bristow's brother making the
custom-house officers acquainted with Roberts's character, his boxes were searched,
and the implements for filing money found; but he escaped in the mean time to
Dunkirk, whence, to avoid pursuit, he went to Ostend, and sending for Mrs. Bristow,
they embarked for England, and took lodgings near the Strand.
Roberts could not detach himself from the pursuit of filing money; and took a
house at Bath, where he used to work at his occupation during the night,
Going to a chemist's shop to purchase a liquid, he saw a person who knew
him, on which he went home, and told Mrs Bristow that he was apprehensive of being
taken into custody. Some officers came almost immediately and conveyed him before
a justice of peace, who sent notice to London of his being in custody.
When brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, he was convicted on the fullest
evidence, and received sentence of death. Till the arrival of the warrant for his
execution he scarcely mentioned any circumstances respecting his conduct; but was
afterwards more explicit.
On the night before his execution, he acknowledged that he had murdered his
first wife during her lying-in.
The second wife went to visit him in prison; but he declined seeing her,
alleging that her company would only disturb him in his preparations for that awful
state on which he was about to enter. The rest of his conduct was highly becoming his
melancholy situation.
ABRAHAM WELLS
Executed at Tyburn, May 30, 1739, for horse-stealing.
ALL the accounts which we found of this criminal agree that he was such a
dunce, when a boy, that though he had the chance of a common school education, he
could not be taught even to read and write; and as a man, he was idle and extravagant.
He was the son of an honest man, a carpenter at Enfield, who bound him to a butcher,
at his native place, where he engaged in business for himself, and sold considerable
quantities of meat by wholesale, at the London markets. He paid his addresses to a
widow of some fortune, whom he married; but she prudently reserved a part of her
property to her own use.
When Wells had been married some time, he became so uneasy that his wife
opposed his extravagance, that, being unhappy at home, he kept bad company, though
it was some years before he committed the crime for which he lost his life.
A man being indicted at the Old Bailey for horse-stealing, Wells became an
evidence in his favour, but his testimony was of such a nature, that he was committed
to Newgate for perjury, and not released till he had suffered six months'
imprisonment, and paid a fine.
He had now repeated quarrels with his wife and her relations; in consequence
of which he neglected his business, so that he lost the greater part of his customers.
Thus distressed in mind and circumstances, he stole a horse from a field near
Edmonton, which he took to Smithfield Market, and offered for sale; but the owner of
the horse having repaired to London before him, had him taken into custody on the
spot, and carried before a magistrate, who committed him to prison.
Previous to his trial he caused some of his relations to be served with
subpoenas, to give evidence respecting him, and among the rest two of his wife's
brothers; but these men instead of endeavouring to alleviate his distress, represented
him to the court as a man of abandoned character, who had long since deserved the
severest sentence of the law: nay, so virulent was their malice, that they told the court
the circumstance of his having been committed for perjury, as above-mentioned. This
conduct was justly censured by the judges, who represented the cruelty of their
endeavouring to injure a man whom they were called in to serve: and observed that
with regard to the perjury, he had already suffered the sentence of the law, so that it
had no reference to the case in hand.
The evidence against him being clear and positive, conviction followed of
course, and he received sentence of death.
After conviction he spoke with the utmost bitterness of reproach, respecting
the conduct of his wife and relations; and though the former repeatedly went to
Newgate, he constantly refused to see her, till within a few days of his death, when the
approaching horror of his fate seemed to have made such an impression on his mind,
that he consented to receive her visit.
On their first meeting they wrung their hands in an agony of grief, but floods
of tears coming to their relief, their affliction in some degree subsided: and when they
mutually recriminated on each other; the wife abused the husband for ruining his
family; and he said that she had been the occasion of his present misfortunes.
On her next visit he again censured her conduct; on which she charged him
with having associated with another woman; but this he solemnly denied, on the word
of a dying man; and averred that the affair had no foundation but in the jealousy of her
own disposition. The Ordinary of Newgate now interposed, and represented to Mrs.
Wells the extreme impropriety of censuring a man in her husband's unhappy
circumstances.
On the day before his death his mind was agitated to such a degree, that it was
thought he might be guilty of suicide, on which a man was engaged to be with him, to
prevent the dreadful consequences: but his mind soon became more composed, and he
employed himself in exercises of devotion.
When he arrived at the fatal tree, he lamented the errors of his past life in the
most affecting manner: but even, at that solemn period he could not help reflecting on
his wife's relations, who, he said, had promoted his ruin.
JAMES CALDCLOUGH
Executed for Robbery, July 2nd 1739.
THE city of Durham gave birth to this offender, who was the son of people of
fair character: they, having given him a decent education, put him apprentice to a
shoemaker, with whom he lived about three years, till, having contracted a habit of
idleness, and being attached to bad company, he quitted his master, and enlisted in the
second regiment of foot-guards.
He had not been long in London before he became acquainted with a fellow
named Thomas, who offered to put him into an easy way of getting money; and
Caldclough, listening to his invitation, dined with Thomas and some of his associates,
on a Sunday, at a public house; and afterwards attended them to Newington Green,
where they continued drinking for some time, and at the approach of evening set out
towards London, with a view of robbing such persons as they might meet.
As they crossed the fields towards Hoxton, they stopped a gentleman, whom
they robbed of a watch and some silver, and, tying him to a gate, they retired to a
public house in Brick Lane, Old Street, where they spent the night in riot and
drunkenness.
Caldclough being a young fellow of genteel appearance, and remarkable spirit,
his accomplices advised him to commence highwayman; but, none of them having
money to purchase horses and other necessaries to equip them in a genteel manner, it
was determined that two of the gang should commit a robbery which might put them
in a way of committing others.
With this view they went into Kent and stole two horses, which they placed at
a livery-stable near Moorfields; after which the gang went in a body to Welling, in
Hertfordshire, where they broke open a house, and stole about fourteen pounds in
money, and some other valuables, which furnished them with clothes and the other
requisites for their intended expedition.
Thus provided, they rode to Enfield Chase, where they robbed the passengers
in a stage-coach of their watches and money; and soon afterwards stopped another
coach in the road to Epping Forest, from which they got a large booty, and divided it
at their place of meeting in Brick Lane, Old Street, spending the night in licentious
revelry.
But a short time had passed after this robbery when Caldclough and one of his
companions rode to Epping Forest; and, having stopped a coach in which were two
gentlemen and a young lady, a servant that was behind the coach would have attacked
the robbers, but that the gentlemen desired him to desist, that the young lady might
not be terrified. The gentlemen then gave the robbers their money, apologizing for the
smallness of the sum, and saying that they should have been welcome to more had it
been in their possession.
As they were riding towards London, after committing this robbery, they
quitted their horses, and fastened them to a tree, in order to rob the Woodford stage-
coach, which they observed to be full of passengers; but the coachman, suspecting
their intent, drove off with such expedition that they could not overtake him.
Disappointed in this attempt, they rode towards Wanstead, where they saw
another coach, the passengers in which they intended to have robbed; but, as a number
of butchers from London rode close behind the carriage, they thought propel to desist
from so dangerous an attempt.
Thus disappointed of the expected booty, Caldclough and Thomas, on the
following day, which was Sunday, rode to Stamford Hill, where they robbed three
persons of their watches, and about four pounds in cash. Flushed with this success,
they determined to put every person they should meet under contribution; in
consequence of which they robbed seven persons more before they reached London,
from whom they obtained about ten guineas, with which they retired to the old place
of resort in Brick Lane.
Soon after this they rode to Finchley Common, where meeting with only
empty carriages, they were returning to London, when they met the Barnet coach near
Islington, and robbed the company of about fifteen shillings. On the following day
they collected six shillings and sixpence from another of the Barnet coaches, and nine
shillings from the Highgate stage, on their return to town; and this was the whole of
the poor booty they obtained this day, at the imminent risk of their lives.
A few days afterwards Caldclough and another of the gang stopped a person of
very decent appearance near Hackney, and demanded his money; but the gentleman,
bursting into tears, said he was in circumstances of distress, and possessed only
eighteen-pence; on which, instead of robbing him, they made him a present of half a
crown; a proof that sentiments of humanity may not be utterly banished even from the
breast of a thief. On their return to town they robbed a man of fourteen shillings, and
then went to their old place of retreat.
On the day after this transaction they went to the Red Lion alehouse, in
Aldersgate Street, where having drank all day, and being unable to pay the reckoning,
they called for more liquor, and then quitted the house, saying that they would soon
return. Going immediately towards Islington, they met a gentleman, to whom they
said that they wanted a small sum to pay their reckoning. On this the gentleman called
out 'Thieves!' and made all possible resistance; notwithstanding which they robbed
him of a gold watch, which they carried to town and pawned, and then, going to the
alehouse, defrayed the expenses of the day.
In a little time after this one of the gang sold the two horses which had been
stolen as before mentioned, and appropriated the money to his own use; after which
he went into the country, and spent some time with his relations; but, finding it
difficult to abstain from his old practices, he wrote to Caldclough, desiring he would
meet him at St. Albans, where it was probable a good booty might be obtained.
Caldclough obeyed the summons; and, on his arrival, found that the scheme
was to rob the pack-horses belonging to the Coventry carrier. [The usual mode of
conveying goods from one part of the kingdom to another was, formerly, by means of
packhorses; but this has given place to road-waggons and canals.] The man drinking
at a house near St. Albans, and permitting the horses to go forward, Caldclough and
his accomplice, who had hidden themselves behind a hedge, rushed out and stopped
the horses; and, having robbed the packages to the amount of fifty pounds, carried
their booty to London, where they disposed of it.
Having dissipated in extravagance the money acquired by this robbery, they
went into Hertfordshire, to rob a gentleman whom they had learnt was possessed of a
considerable sum. Getting into the yard near midnight, the owner of the house
demanded what business they had there; to which they replied, 'Only to go through
the yard;' whereupon the gentleman fired a gun, which, though it was loaded with
powder only, terrified them so, that they decamped without committing the intended
robbery.
Caldclough, and one of his accomplices named Robinson, being reduced to
circumstances of distress, determined to make depredations on the road between
London and Kensington. While they were looking out for prey, two gentlemen, named
Swafford and Banks, were observed on the road behind them; but Mr. Swafford being
at some distance before his companion, Caldclough and Robinson, who were provided
with hangers, robbed him of some silver; but not till they had first wounded him in a
manner shocking to relate — they cut his nose almost from his face, and left him
weltering in his blood.
Soon afterwards Mr. Banks came up, whom they robbed of five guineas, and
then, hurrying towards Kensington, went over the fields to Chelsea, where they took a
boat, and crossed the Thames; and, walking to Lambeth, took another boat, which
carried them to Westminster.
In the mean time Mr. Banks, who had missed his. friend, proceeded to
Kensington, where he made inquiry for him; but, finding that he had not reached that
place, he was apprehensive that he might have been murdered; and, going back with a
gentleman in search of him, they found him in the condition already described.
Mr. Swafford was immediately removed to the house of a surgeon, where
proper care being taken of him, he recovered his health, after a long series of diligent
attendance; but his wounds were of such a kind as totally to disfigure the features of
his face, his nose having been cut so as to hang over his mouth.
The villains were taken into custody on the very day after the perpetration of
this horrid deed, when Robinson being admitted an evidence against his accomplice,
he was brought to trial at the next sessions, convicted, and received sentence of death.
After conviction Caldclough seemed to entertain no hopes of a pardon; but,
appropriating all his time to contrition for the vices of his past life, prepared for
futurity with all the zeal of one who appeared to be a sincere penitent.
He was executed at Tyburn, July 2, 1739, and made the following speech to
the surrounding multitude: —
'I humbly beg that all you young men whom I leave behind me would take
warning in time, and avoid bad houses as well as bad company. Remember my dying
words, lest some of you come to the same end, which I pray God you never may.
What I am now going to suffer is the just punishment for my crimes; for, although I
did not commit murder, yet I look upon myself equally guilty, as the poor gentleman
must have died had he not met with assistance.
'Were I able to make satisfaction to those whom I have wronged, I would do it;
but, alas! I cannot, and therefore I pray that they will forgive me. I hope my life will
be at least some satisfaction, as I have nothing besides to give: and, as I die in charity
with all mankind, may the Lord Jesus receive my soul!'
In the case of this malefactor, as in that of many others, we have a striking
instance how extremely penitent a man may be when his penitence can avail nothing
to the injured party. We hope that those who read narratives of this kind will reflect
that the true way to be happy is never to he guilty of such crimes as will lay them
under the necessity of such ineffectual repentance.
THOMAS LYMPUS
Executed near Wells, in Somersetshire, 21st of September 1739, for robbing
the Mail.
Lympus Robbing the Post-boy
FROM serving as a messenger some years to the General Post Office, this man
formed the dangerous resolution of robbing the mails. At that time the vast property in
circulation by means of the post was not, as at present, secured from being plundered
by any lurking thief upon the road.
On the 21st of February, 1738, this public plunderer began his depredations by
stopping the post-boy bringing the Bath and Bristol mails, about seven o'clock in the
evening, at the end of Sunning Lane, two miles north of Reading, in Berkshire.
For the apprehension of the robber the Postmaster-General offered a reward of
two hundred pounds, over and above the reward by Act of Parliament for
apprehending highwaymen; or if any accomplice in the said robbery should make a
discovery of the person who committed the fact, such accomplice should be entitled to
the reward of two hundred pounds, and also receive his Majesty's most gracious
pardon. The advertisement described the robber to be a middle-sized man, wearing a
great riding-coat, with a white velvet or plush cape.
No sooner had Lympus rifled the bags of their most valuable contents than he
determined upon attempting to make his escape to France. For this purpose he
hastened to the nearest seaport, and actually landed there, but not before the officers
of justice got information of his flight. They pursued him to France, and demanded
him to be delivered up to them as a national robber; but on flying to the sanctuary of
the Church, and declaring himself a Roman Catholic, he received protection, and for a
while evaded the official laws of his own country. There is ever to be found in such as
fly for a heinous crime, after some time passed abroad in safety, a desire to return,
which in vain they struggle to suppress. So it was in some measure with T. Lympus,
who could not rest with his booty in France, but returned in a short time for further
plunder, and immediately committed another mail robbery, for which he was
apprehended and brought to trial.
It appeared by the evidence of the post-boy that he was stopped by the
prisoner on horseback between the towns of Crewkerne and Sherborne, who
compelled him to dismount, then bound him hand and foot, and rode off with the
mail, containing twenty-four bags, from as many post towns.
Having taken out the bank-notes, he again contemplated an escape to France,
and for that purpose again embarked; but the winds were no longer propitious to his
hopes, for the vessel was driven back, and obliged to put into Dartmouth. Here he
offered one of the stolen notes in payment, endorsed by one Follet, of Topsham, and it
being described in the account of the robbery he was suspected of being the robber.
Apprehending himself to be in danger he immediately decamped, making the best of
his way towards Kingsbridge; but he was pursued by seven men, who took him on a
warrant being granted for that purpose. He was convicted of this robbery, and after
much equivocation, confessed, since sentence of death, having robbed the Bristol mail
a little more than a year before, and impeached one Patrick, a dealer in hops, as his
accomplice.
He was executed on the top of Dunkit Hill, within a mile of Wells, in
Somersetshire, Sept. 21, 1739, and affected to die professing the religion he had
adopted in France.
The security now given to our mail-coaches rendering an open attempt on
them impracticable, unless sustained by a whole band of robbers, recourse has been
frequently had to artifice in order to get possession of the mail. One of these tricks
was thus played off with success.
It was customary to deposit the mail-bags at a private house in Castle Street,
Reading, near to which the horses belonging to the mail were changed. The guard
announced the approach of the mail to the inn, by sounding his horn, and, whilst the
horses were putting to, he went to the receiving-house to exchange his bags. A horn
was sounded in the street, quite late in the evening of the 26th of January, 1806, and
soon after a man called for the downward bag, which was delivered to him, as usual,
out of a window, and in return for which he gave a bag, which was afterwards found
to contain shavings. The robbery was discovered soon after by the arrival of the mail,
but not till the villains had effected their escape.
THOMAS BARKWITH
An accomplished Scholar and Linguist, who was executed at Tyburn 1st of
December, 1739, for Robbery
THIS unfortunate young gentleman was the descendant of a respectable family
in the Isle of Ely. At a very early period of life he was observed to possess a strength
of understanding greatly beyond what could be expected at his years, and this
determined his father to add to such extraordinary gifts of nature the advantages of a
liberal education; nor was the necessary attention omitted to impress upon his mind a
just idea of the principles of religion and the absolute necessity of practical virtue.
Before the young gentleman had arrived at his fourteenth year he attained to a
great proficiency in the Greek, Latin, French and Italian languages, and he afforded an
indisputable proof of the depth of his penetration and the brilliancy of his fancy in the
production of a variety of poetical and prose essays. His figure was pleasing, and
improved by a graceful deportment; his manner of address was insinuating, and he
excelled in the art of conversation. Soon after he had passed his fourteenth year he
received an invitation to visit an aunt residing in the metropolis. He had not been
many days at this lady's house before he became conspicuous throughout the whole
circle of her acquaintance equally on the score of his mental powers and personal
qualifications; and he was dissuaded by his friends from returning into the country, it
being their unanimous opinion that London was, of all others, the place where
opportunities would be most likely to occur which the youth might improve to the
advancement of his fortune. A short time after his arrival in the metropolis he pro-
cured a recommendation to a Master in Chancery of high reputation and extensive
practice; and this gentleman appointed him to the superintendence of that department
of his business which related to money matters. In this office he acquitted himself
entirely to the satisfaction of his employer, who considered him as a youth in whom
he might safely repose an unlimited confidence. He possessed the particular esteem of
all those who had the happiness of his acquaintance; and it was their common opinion
that his fine talents and great capacity for business could not fail to introduce him to
some considerable station in life. The gentleman in whose service Barkwith had
engaged, being under the necessity of going into Wales on some business respecting
an estate there, commissioned Barkwith to receive the rents of a number of houses in
London. In the neighbourhood of the solicitor lived a young lady of whom Barkwith
had for some time been passionately enamoured, and immediately upon the departure
of the former for Wales he determined to avail himself of the first opportunity of
making a declaration of honourable love.
Though the young lady did not mean to unite herself in marriage with Mr
Barkwith, yet she encouraged his addresses; and to this disingenuous conduct is to be
attributed the fatal reverse of his fortune from the most flattering prospect of acquiring
a respectable situation in the world to the dreadful event of suffering an ignominious
death at Tyburn.
So entirely was his attention engrossed by the object of his love that his
master's most important business was wholly neglected, and he appeared to have no
object in view but that of ingratiating himself in the esteem of his mistress; to gratify
whose extravagance and vanity he engaged in expenses greatly disproportioned to his
income, by making her valuable presents and accompanying her to the theatres, balls,
assemblies and other places of public entertainment.
Upon the return of the solicitor he found the affairs which he had entrusted to
Barkwith in a very embarrassed situation, and upon searching into the cause of this
unexpected and alarming circumstance it was discovered that the infatuated youth had
embezzled a considerable sum. The gentleman, having made a particular inquiry into
the conduct of Barkwith, received such information as left but little hopes of his
reformation; and therefore he, though reluctantly, yielded to the dictates of prudence,
and resolved to employ him no longer.
Barkwith now hired chambers, in order to transact law business on his own
account; but as he had not been admitted an attorney he was under the necessity of
acting under the sanction of another person's name; whence it may be concluded that
his practice was not very extensive. He might, however, by a proper attention to his
business, and a moderate economy in his expenses, have retrieved his affairs in a short
time; but, unhappily, his intercourse with the young lady was still continued, and he
thought no sacrifice too great for convincing her of the ardour of his affection.
He resided at his chambers about six months, when his creditors became
exceedingly importunate for him immediately to discharge their several demands. His
necessities were so pressing as to drive him almost to desperation. He took horse on
the morning of the 13th of November, pretending that he was going to Denham, in
Buckinghamshire, in order to transact some important business in relation to an estate
which was to devolve to a young lady, then in her minority. It is not now known
whether he went to Denham; but about four o'clock in the afternoon he stopped a
coach upon Hounslow Heath, and robbed a gentleman who was in the vehicle of a
sum in silver not amounting to twenty shillings.
In a short time a horseman came up, who was informed by the coachman that
his master had been robbed by Barkwith, who was yet in sight. The horseman
immediately rode to an adjacent farmhouse, where he procured pistols, and persuaded
a person to accompany him in search of the highwayman, who after a long chase
surrendered, saying to the people who surrounded him that he was a gentleman
heavily oppressed with misfortunes, and supplicating in the most pathetic terms that
they would favour his escape; but his entreaties had no effect.
He was promptly secured during the night; and the next morning conducted
before a magistrate for examination. He war ordered to London, where he was re-
examined, and then committed to Newgate.
He was tried at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, and condemned to
suffer death. He was conveyed to Tyburn on the 21st of December, 1739.
EDWARD JOINES
Executed for the murder of his wife, December 21, 1739.
ALTHOUGH nothing can be offered in extenuation for the horrid crime of
murder, yet provocation, and passion, fermenting a sudden madness, have, sometimes
precipitated men to do an act, which has plunged them into an abyss of mental misery.
Contemplating such effects, we are willing to make some allowance for the
commission of this murder. Had not the perpetrator been goaded by the unbridled
tongue of his wife, abetted by that of his daughter-in-law,— and what domestic
torments can be greater? we may conclude, that both might have lived the course of
nature. This case should warn the matron not to irritate her husband; and should he,
unhappily, break the bonds of prudence, we beseech her to recur alone to conciliation.
Hard, indeed, is that man's heart who, in his cooler moments, will not listen to the soft
remonstrances of a virtuous woman.
The parents of Edward Joines were respectable housekeepers in Ratcliffe-
highway, who, being desirous that the boy should be qualified for business, placed
him under the direction of a master of a day-school in Goodman's fields, where he
continued a regular attendance about five years, but without gaining any considerable
improvement.
Soon after he had completed his fourteenth year, he was removed from the
school, and his father informed him, that he was endeavouring to find some reputable
tradesman who would take him as an apprentice: but the youth expressed an aversion
to any occupation, but that of a gardener. Finding that he had conceived a strong
prepossession in favour of this business, they bound him to a gardener in Stepney,
whom he served, in an industrious and regular manner, for the space of seven years;
and he, for some time afterwards, continued with the same master in the capacity of a
journeyman, his parents being so reduced, through misfortunes, that they could not
supply him with money to carry on business on his own account.
A short time after the expiration of his apprenticeship, he married a milk-
woman, by whom he had seven children in the course of twenty years, during which
time he lived in an amicable manner with his wife, earning a tolerable subsistence by
honest industry. His children all died in their infancy, and upon the decease of his
wife he procured employment at Bromley; and that he might lose but little time in
going to, and returning from, his work, he hired a lodging at the lower end of Poplar,
in a house kept by a widow, with whom he, in a few days, contracted a criminal
familiarity. They had lived together about a twelvemonth, jointly defraying the
household expenses, when she, more frequently than usual, gave way to the natural
violence of her temper, threatening that he should not continue in the house unless he
would marry her: which he consented to do, and, adjourning to the Fleet, the
ceremony was performed.
After their marriage their disagreements became, more frequent and violent;
and upon the wife's daughter leaving her service, and coming to reside with them, she
united with her mother in pursuing every measure that could tend to render the life of
Joines insupportably miserable. On his return from work, one evening, a
disagreement; as usual, took place, and being aggravated by her abusive language, he
pushed her from him, and falling against the grate, her arm was much scorched, in
consequence of this she swore the peace against him; but when they appeared before
the magistrate who had granted the warrant for the apprehension of Joines, they were
advised to compromise their disagreement, to which they mutually agreed.
By an accidental fall, Mrs. Joines broke her hand, about a month after the
above affair; but timely application being made to a surgeon, she, in a short time, had
every reason to expect a perfect and speedy recovery.
Joines being at a public-house, on a Sunday afternoon, the landlord observed
his daughter-in-law carrying a pot of porter from another ale-house, and mentioned
the circumstance to him, adding that the girl had been served with a like quantity at
his house but a short time before. Being intoxicated, Joines took fire at what the
publican had imprudently said, and immediately went towards the house, which was
on the opposite side of the street, with an intention of preventing his wife from
drinking the liquor. He struck the pot out of her hand, and then seizing the arm that
had been broke, twisted it till the bone again separated.
The fracture was again reduced; but such unfavourable symptoms appeared,
that an amputation was judged necessary for preserving the life of the patient. In a
short time afterwards, however, she was supposed to be in a fair way of recovery; and
calling one day at the gardens where her husband was employed, she told his fellow-
labourers that she had great hopes of her arm being speedily cured, adding, that she
was then able to move her fingers with but very little difficulty.
The hopes of this unfortunate woman were falsely grounded: for on the
following day she was so ill, that her life was judged to be very precarious. She sent
for Joines from his work: and upon his coming to her bedside, he asked, if she had any
accusation to allege against him; upon which, shaking her head, she said, she would
forgive him, and hoped the world would do so too. She expired the next night, and in
the morning he gave some directions respecting the funeral, and then went to work in
the gardens as usual, not entertaining the least suspicion that he should be accused as
the cause of his wife's death; but upon his return in the evening be was apprehended
on suspicion of murder.
An inquest being summoned to inquire whether the woman was murdered, or
died according to the course of nature, it appeared in evidence, that her death was
occasioned by the second fracture of her arm; the jury, therefore, brought in a verdict
of wilful murder against Joines, who was, in consequence, committed to Newgate in
order for trial.
At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, Joines was arraigned on an
indictment for the wilful murder of his wife. In the course of the trial it appeared, that
the prisoner had frequently forced the deceased into the street, at late hours of the
night, without regard to her being without clothes, or the severity of the weather. The
surgeon who attended her deposed, that a gangrene appeared on her arm, in
consequence of its being broke the second time, which was indisputably the cause of
her death.
Near three months had elapsed from the time of her arm being first broke, to
that of her decease; but not more than ten days had passed from the second fracture to
the consequent mortification. The law expresses that if a person, violently wounded,
dies within twelve calendar months, the offender causing such wound, or wounds,
shall he deemed guilty of a capital felony. As it was evident that his wife died in
consequence of his cruelty, within the time limited by law, Joines was pronounced to
be guilty of murder, and sentenced to suffer death.
During the confinement of Joines in Newgate, he did not appear to entertain a
proper sense of his guilt. As his wife did not die immediately after the fracture of her
arm, it was with difficulty he could be persuaded that the jury had done him justice in
finding him guilty of murder. He had but a very imperfect notion of the principles of
religion; but the ordinary of the prison took great pains to inspire him with a just sense
of his duty towards his Creator. Though he was distressed for all the necessaries of
life during the greatest part of his confinement, his daughter-in-law, who had taken
possession of his house and effects, neglected either to visit him, or afford him any
kind of assistance; and he was violently enraged against the young woman, on
account of this behaviour. Joines suffered along with Thomas Barkwith.
MARY YOUNG ALIAS JENNY DIVER
The Head of a Gang of Thieves of every Description. Executed at Tyburn,
18th of March, 1740
We have seldom heard of any more skilled in the various arts of imposition
and robbery, than Mary Young. Her depredations, executed with undaunted courage,
and artful deception, are surpassed by none which we have, as yet, met with.
Mary Young was born in the north of Ireland; her parents were in indigent
circumstances; and dying while she was in a state of infancy, she had no recollection
of them.
At about ten years of age she was taken into the family of an old
gentlewoman, who had known her father and mother, and who caused her to be
instructed in reading, writing, and needle-work; and in the latter she attained to a
proficiency unusual to girls of her age.
Soon after she had arrived to her fifteenth year, a young man, servant to a
gentleman who lived in the neighbourhood, made pretensions of love to her; but the
old lady being apprized of his views, declared that she would not consent to their
marriage, and positively forbade him to repeat his visits at her house.
Notwithstanding the great care and tenderness with which she was treated,
Mary formed the resolution of deserting her generous benefactor, and of directing her
course towards the metropolis of England; and the only obstacle to this design was,
the want of money towards her support till she could follow some honest means of
earning a subsistence.
She had no strong prepossession in favour of the young man, who had made a
declaration of love to her; but she, determining to make his passion subservient to the
purpose she had conceived, promised to marry him on condition of his taking her to
London. He joyfully embraced this proposal, and immediately engaged for a passage
in a vessel bound for Liverpool.
A short time before the vessel was to sail, the young man robbed his master of
a gold watch and eighty guineas, and then joined the companion of his flight, who was
already on board the ship, vainly imagining that his infamously acquired booty would
contribute to the happiness he should enjoy with his expected bride. The ship arrived
at the destined port in two days; and Mary being indisposed, in consequence of her
voyage, her companion hired a lodging in the least-frequented part of the town, where
they lived a short time in the character of man and wife.
Mary being restored to health, they agreed for a passage in a wagon that was
to set out for London in a few days. On the day preceding that fixed for their
departure they accidentally called at a public-house, and the man being observed by a
messenger dispatched in pursuit of him from Ireland, he was immediately taken into
custody. He being committed to prison, Mary sent him all his clothes and part of the
money she had received from him, and the next day took her place in the wagon for
London. In a short time her companion was sent to Ireland, where he was tried, and
condemned to suffer death; but his sentence was changed to that of transportation.
Soon after her arrival in London, Mary contracted an acquaintance with one of
her countrywomen, named Anne Murphy, by whom she was invited to partake of a
lodging in Long Acre. Here she endeavoured to obtain a livelihood by her needle, but
not being able to procure sufficient employment, her situation in a little time became
truly deplorable.
Murphy 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. In the evening Murphy introduced her to a number of men and women,
assembled in a kind of club, near St Giles's. These people gained their living by
cutting off women's pockets and stealing watches, etc., 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 Mary's admission 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 ten 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 Mary as the partner of her bed; and the 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, as we conceive, of her remarkable dexterity, and by that
name we shall call her in the succeeding pages of this narrative.
Jenny, accompanied by one of her female accomplices, 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; and 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.
The above robbery was considered as such an extraordinary proof of Jenny's
superior address that her associates determined to allow her an equal share of all their
booties, even though she was not present when they were obtained. A short time after
the above exploit she procured a pair of false hands and arms to be made, and
concealing her real ones under her clothes she 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 among the more genteel part of the congregation, and another attending
in the character of a footman.
Jenny being seated between two elderly ladies, each of whom had a gold
watch by her side, she conducted herself with seeming great devotion; but when the
service was 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. Flushed with the success of this 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, 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. Jenny had now
obtained an ascendancy over the whole gang, who, conscious of her superior skill in
the arts of thieving, came to a resolution of yielding an exact obedience to her
directions.
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 in- creased, 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.
Two of the gang being confined to their lodgings by illness, Jenny and the man
with whom she cohabited generally went in company in search of adventures. They
went together to Burr Street, Wapping, and, observing a genteel house, the man, who
acted as Jenny's footman, knocked at the door, and saying that his mistress was on a
sudden taken extremely ill, begged she might be admitted. This was readily complied
with, and, while the mistress of the house and her maid-servant were gone upstairs for
such things as they imagined would afford relief to the supposed sick woman, she
opened a drawer and stole sixty guineas; and after this, while the mistress was holding
a smelling-bottle to her nose, she picked her pocket of a purse, which, however, did
not contain money to any considerable amount. In the meantime the pretended
footman, who had been ordered into the kitchen, stole six silver tablespoons, a
pepper-box and a salt-cellar. Jenny, pretending to be some- what recovered, expressed
the most grateful acknowledgements to the lady, and, saying she was the wife of a
capital merchant in Thames Street, invited her in the most pressing terms to dinner on
an appointed day, and then went away in a hackney-coach, which by her order had
been called to the door by her pretended servant.
She practised a variety of felonies of a similar nature different parts of the
metropolis and its environs; but the particulars of the above transactions being
inserted in the news papers, people were so effectually cautioned, that our adventurer
was under the necessity of employing her invention upon the discovery of other
methods of committing depredations on the public.
The parties whose illness we have mentioned being recovered, it was resolved
that the whole gang should go to Bristol, in search of adventures during the fair,
which is held in that city every summer; but being unacquainted with the place, they
deemed it good policy to admit into their society a man who had long subsisted there
by villainous practices.
Being arrived at the place of destination, Jenny and Anne Murphy assumed the
characters of merchant's wives, the new member and another of the gang appeared as
country traders, and our heroine's favourite retained his former character of footman.
They took lodgings at different inns, and agreed that, if any of them should be
apprehended, the others should endeavour to procure their release by appearing to
their characters, and representing them as people of reputation in London. They had
arrived to such a proficiency in their illegal occupation, that they were almost certain
of accomplishing every scheme they suggested; and when it was inconvenient to
make use of words, they were able to convey their meaning to each other by winks,
nods, and other intimations.
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.
Though the man fell into the channel, they were not able to obtain their expected
booty, and therefore they had recourse to the following stratagem: One of the gang
asked whether his master had not lately ordered him to carry home a sum of money;
to which the other replied in the affirmative. The sharper then told him he must return
to his master who had purchased some goods, and waited to pay for them.
The countryman followed him to Jenny's lodging, 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 repeatedly declined her offers with awkward
simplicity; the pretended footman having taught him to believe her a woman of great
wealth and consequence. However, her encouraging solicitations conquered his
bashfulness, and he drank till he became intoxicated. Being conducted into another
apartment he was soon fast locked in the arms of sleep, and while in that situation he
was robbed of the money he had received from his master, which proved to be 100l.
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.
Our heroine now hired a real footman, and her favourite, who had long acted
in that character, assumed the appearance of a gentleman. She hired lodgings in the
neighbourhood of Covent-garden, that she might more conveniently attend the
theatres. She proposed to her associates to reserve a tenth part of the general produce
for the support of such of the gang as might, through illness, be rendered incapable of
following their iniquitous occupations: and to this they readily assented.
Jenny 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 of his heart, and
earnestly solicited the favour of attending her home. She at first declined a
compliance, saying she was newly married, and that the appearance of a stranger
might alarm her husband. At length she yielded to his entreaty, and they went together
in a hackney-coach, which set the young gentleman down in the neighbourhood where
Jenny lodged, after he had obtained an appointment to visit her in a few days, when
she said her husband would be out of town.
Upon Jenny's joining her companions, she informed them that while she
remained at the play-house, she was only able to steal a gold snuff-box; and they
appeared to be much dissatisfied on account of her ill success: but their good humour
re turned upon learning the circumstances of the adventure with the young gentleman,
which they had no doubt would prove exceedingly profitable.
The day of appointment being arrived, two of the gang appeared equipped in
elegant liveries, and Anne Murphy appeared as waiting-maid. The gentleman came in
the evening, having a gold-headed cane in his hand, a sword with a gold hilt by his
side, and wearing a gold watch in his pocket, and a diamond ring on his finger.
Being introduced to her bed-chamber, she contrived to steal her lover's ring;
and he had not been many minutes undressed before Anne Murphy rapped at the door,
which being opened, she said, with an appearance of the utmost consternation, that
her master was returned from the country. Jenny, affecting to be under a violent
agitation of spirits, desired the gentleman to cover himself entirely with the bed-
clothes, saying she would convey his apparel into another room, so that if her husband
came there, nothing would appear to awaken his suspicion: 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 clothes being removed, a consultation was held, when it was agreed by the
gang that they should immediately pack up all their moveables, and decamp with their
booty, which, exclusive of the cane, watch, sword, and ring, amounted to an hundred
guineas.
The amorous youth waited in a state of the utmost impatience till the morning,
when he rang the bell, and brought the people of the house to the chamber-door, but
they could not gain admittance, as the fair fugitive had turned the lock, and taken
away the key; when the door was forced open the gentleman represented in what
manner he had been treated; but the people of the house were deaf to his
expostulations, and threatened to circulate the adventure throughout the town, unless
he would indemnify them for the loss they had sustained. Rather than hazard the
exposure of his character, he agreed to discharge the debt Jenny had contracted; and
dispatched a messenger for clothes and money, that he might take leave of a house of
which he had sufficient reason to regret having been an inhabitant.
Our heroine's share of the produce of the above adventure amounted to 70l.
This infamous association was now become so notorious a pest to society, that they
judged it necessary to leave the metropolis where they were apprehensive that they
could not long remain concealed from justice. They practised a variety of stratagems
with great success in different parts of the country: but, upon revisiting London, Jenny
was committed to Newgate, on a charge of having picked a gentleman's pocket: for
which she was sentenced to transportation.
She remained in the above prison nearly four months, during which time she
employed a considerable sum in the purchase of stolen effects. When she went on
board the transport vessel she shipped a quantity of goods, nearly sufficient to load a
wagon. 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 that America was a country where she could expect but little
emolument from the practices she had so successfully followed in England; and
therefore she employed every art that she was mistress of to ingratiate herself in the
esteem of 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 an 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 several parts of the country, and by her usual
wicked practices obtained many considerable sums. At length she returned to London,
but was not able to find her former accomplices.
She now frequented the Royal Exchange, the theatres, London Bridge and
other places of public resort, and committed innumerable depredations on the public.
Being detected in picking a gentleman's pocket upon 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. She was arraigned for privately stealing,
and pronounced guilty. The property being valued at less than one shilling, she was
sentenced to transportation.
A twelvemonth had not elapsed before she returned from transportation a
second time, and on her arrival in London she renewed her former practices. A lady
going from Sherborne Lane to Walbrooke was accosted by a man, who took her hand
as if to assist her in crossing some planks that were placed over the channel for the
convenience of passengers; but he squeezed her fingers with so much force as to give
her great pain, and in the meantime 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 in order for trial, and at the
ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey she was tried on an indictment for privately
stealing, and the jury brought in the verdict, "Guilty;" in consequence of which she
received sentence of death.
After conviction she seemed sincerely to repent of the course of iniquity in
which she had so long persisted, punctually attending prayers in the chapel, and
employing great part of her time in private devotions. The day preceding that on
which she was executed, she sent for the woman who nursed her thud, then about
three years old, and after informing her that there was a person who would pay for the
infant's maintenance, earnestly entreated that it might be carefully instructed in the
duties of religion, and guarded from all temptations to wickedness, and then, after
acknowledging that she had long been a daring offender against the laws, both of God
and man, she entreated the woman to pray for the salvation of her soul; she then took
her leave, apparently deeply impressed with the sentiments of contrition.
On the following morning she appeared to be in a serene state of mind: but
being brought into the press-yard, the executioner approached to put the halter about
her, when her fortitude abated: but in a short time her spirits were 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 all the principles of the Protestant
religion; and at the place of execution she employed a considerable time in fervent
prayer. Her remains were, by her particular desire, interred in St. Pancras church-yard.
We should always allow due force to the advice of our friends; and if the
conduct that is recommended to us points to happiness, what folly is it to neglect it, in
order to gratify an inclination, the indulgence of which will yield but a temporary
gratification, and may prove the source of lasting sorrow.
CHARLES DREW
Parricide, executed at St. Edmondsbury, 9th April, 1740
This culprit was the son of the man he murdered, and who was the owner of
good property at Long Melford, in Suffolk; for the possession of which, to support,
like George Barnwell, an extravagant wanton, he committed the foul deed for which
he was executed.
Mr. Drew, senior, was an attorney; yet of so unaccountable a disposition, that
he wholly neglected his son's education, having quarrelled with and lived separate
from his wife. There were five daughters and the unhappy one who murdered him,
and to all he appears to have conducted himself with the most culpable reserve and
unfriendliness.
When Charles arrived at years of maturity he became acquainted with one
Elizabeth Boyer, who submitted to his solicitations, but was a woman of so much art,
that most people thought be would marry her; and, when she urged him to it, he said,
'Betsey, let us stay a little longer; it will be worse for us both if I do it now, for my
father will certainly disinherit me:' to which she replied, 'I wish somebody would
shoot the old dog.'
This discourse was heard to pass between them in the month of January, 1740,
and Mr. Drew was found murdered in his house on the first of February following. On
inquiry into the affair, it was suspected that Mr. Drew was shot with a gun which had
been lent to his son by Mrs. Boyer; and, though no prosecution was commenced
against her, there was every reason to imagine that she bad been the chief instigator to
the atrocious crime.
Charles, having been to the Chelmsford assizes, fell into company with some
smugglers, among whom was one Humphreys, a hardened villain, whom he invited to
meet him at Mrs. Boyer's lodgings. They accordingly met; when Drew promised to
settle two hundred pounds a year on him if he would murder his father; and gave him
likewise at the time a considerable sum of money. Humphreys hesitated some time;
but, at length consenting to the horrid proposal, they went together towards the house,
having a gun loaded with slugs, about eleven at night on the 31st of January. It was
agreed that young Drew should stand at a distance, while Humphreys was to knock at
the door, ask for the old man, and then shoot him; but Humphreys' courage failing
him when he came near the spot, he threw down the gun, saying he would have no
concern in the murder. On this young Drew commanded him to keep silence, on pain
of death; and, taking up the gun, went to the door, and, when his father opened it, shot
him dead on the spot.
Having committed this horrid parricide, he said to Humphreys, 'The job is
done;' on which Humphreys went to Dunmow, in Essex, where he had appointed to
meet some smugglers that night, and after that travelled to London.
Young Drew, going to London, made application for the king's pardon to any
one except him who had actually murdered his father; in consequence of which an
advertisement to that purpose was inserted in the London Gazette, signed by the
secretary of state; and another advertisement followed it, in which Drew himself
offered a reward of a hundred pounds on conviction of the murderer. This procedure
appears evidently to have been intended to take off all suspicion from himself, though
he meant not to fix it on Humphreys.
This latter, being apprehended on suspicion, gave such an indifferent account
of the transaction, that he was ordered to be kept in custody: and while he was in
prison Drew sent him twenty pounds, with the promise of a hundred more. After he
was committed the suspicion of his guilt grew stronger, and was corroborated by
several informations.
This gave Drew great uneasiness; he took the utmost pains to suppress all
farther informations, and even to destroy the credibility of those already made. He
publicly declared that Humphreys was not the man who shot his father, and threatened
to prosecute the officer who apprehended him.
Drew now resided in London, where he changed his name to that of Roberts,
and corresponded with Humphreys, who had assumed the name of John Smith. Some
letters falling into the bands of Timothy Drew, Esq. a namesake only, he went to
London in search of the murderer; and, after repeated inquiries, was told that ho
lodged in Shire Lane, whither he went, and asked for him by the name of Roberts. The
people of the house said they had no lodgers; but the gentleman, who had a
magistrate's warrant for apprehending the offender, insisted on searching the house:
the search, however, was made in vain.
On this he went to several bagnios, and at length to a house in Leicester Fields,
where he inquired for Mr. Roberts. Drew had given orders that he should be denied,
for the landlord said that all the gentlemen who had lodged there the preceding night
were gone; but Mr. Timothy Drew, observing him whisper one of the waiters,
suspected the truth of this declaration, and, calling for a pint of wine, asked the waiter
to drink with him. After some conversation he raised his voice, and in a positive
manner declared that he knew Mr. Roberts was in the house, but that his real name
was Charles Drew, and that he had murdered his father; then he threatened to have all
the people in the house apprehended for concealing a murderer. This authoritative
manner induced the waiter to confess that the gentleman was in the house. Hereupon
he was conducted to the mansion of Justice de Veil; and, after an examination of
above six hours, was committed to Newgate under a strong guard.
During his residence in the prison he gave Jonathan Keate, the turnkey, a bond
of half his fortune, on the condition of permitting him to escape, and accompanying
him to France; and, for his farther security, he executed a bond for the payment of a
thousand pounds. The turnkey seemed to comply, and the time was fixed on for their
departure; but the man having informed Mr. Akerman, the keeper, of the progress of
the affair, Drew was removed into the old condemned hole, where a guard was placed
over him night and day.
On the approach of the assizes Humphreys being admitted an evidence, Drew
was convicted after a trial of several hours.
After conviction be seemed not to have a proper sense of the enormity of the
crime of which he had been guilty, and would have attributed it to his father's ill
treatment of him. He said that his father denied him necessary money for his
expenses; and that his having refused to make over an estate to him was the first
instigation to his committing the horrid crime.
He was visited by his sisters, who carefully avoided reflecting on him; and did
all in their power to console him in his unhappy situation.
He was hanged near St. Edmund's-bury, on the 9th of April, 1740, amidst the
greatest crowd of spectators that were almost ever assembled on such a melancholy
occasion in that part of the country.
He seemed to part with life with evident signs of reluctance, begging the
clergyman who attended him to continue the devotions to the last possible moment.
This man suffered in the twenty-fifth year of his age.
The crime of murder is in itself so horrid, that it requires no aggravation; but
that of parricide is of the worst species of murder, The destruction of those from
whom, under God, we have immediately derived our being, has something in it so
shocking to humanity, that one would think it impossible it should ever be committed.
By the Lex Pompeia of the Romans parricides were ordained to be put into a
sack, with a dog, a cock, a viper, and an ape, and thrown into the sea, thus to perish by
the most cruel of all tortures. The Egyptians also put such delinquents to death in the
most horrible manner. They gradually mangled their body and limbs, and, when
almost every limb was dislocated or broken, they placed the criminal, writhing and
screeching with pain, upon thorns, where he was burnt alive! In China impiety to
parents was considered a crime similar in atrocity to treason and rebellion, for which
criminals were sentenced to be cut in ten thousand pieces! By the ancient Jewish law
it was also death for children to curse or strike their parents: in fine, every nation
punished the parricide in the most exemplary manner.
ELIZABETH AND MARY BRANCH
Mother and Daughter, executed at Ivelchester on the 3rd of May, 1740, for
murdering a Girl
Elizabeth and Mary Branch beating their servant to death
THESE cruel women were born at Philips Norton, in Somersetshire. The
mother was distinguished from her childhood by the cruelty of her disposition. She
married a farmer, named Branch, but the husband soon found what an unfortunate
choice he had made; for his wife no sooner came into possession of her matrimonial
power than she began to exercise her tyranny on her servants, whom she treated with
undeserved and unaccountable cruelty, frequently denying them the common
necessaries of life, and sometimes turning them out of doors at night in the midst of
winter; but their wages in these cases were sent them by Mr Branch, who was as
remarkable for his humanity and justice as his wife for the opposite qualities. Mary
Branch, the daughter, was an exact resemblance of her mother in every part of her
diabolical temper.
Mr Branch dying, and leaving an estate of about three hundred pounds a year,
he was no sooner buried than all the servants quitted the family, determined not to live
with so tyrannical a mistress; and her character became so notorious that she could
obtain no servants but poor creatures who were put out by the parish, or casual
vagrants who strolled the country.
It is needless to mention the particulars of the cruelties of this inhuman mother
and daughter to their other servants, at whom they used to throw plates, knives and
forks on any offence, real or supposed; we shall therefore proceed to an account of
their trial and execution for the murder of Jane Buttersworth, a poor girl, who had
been placed with them by the parish officers.
At the assizes held at Taunton, in Somersetshire, in March, 1740, Elizabeth
Branch and Mary, her daughter, were indicted for the wilful murder of Jane
Buttersworth; when the principal evidence against them was in substance as follows:
Ann Somers, the dairymaid, deposed that the deceased, having been sent for some
yeast, and staying longer than was necessary, excused herself to her old mistress on
her return by telling a lie; on which the daughter struck her violently on the head with
her fist, and pinched her ears. Then both of them threw her on the ground, and the
daughter knelt on her neck, while the mother whipped her with twigs till the blood ran
on the ground, and the daughter, taking off one of the girl's shoes, beat her with it in a
cruel manner. The deceased cried for mercy, and after some struggle ran into the
parlour, where they followed her and beat her with broomsticks till she fell down
senseless; after which the daughter threw a pail of water on her, and used her with
other circumstances of cruelty too gross to mention. Somers now went out to milk her
cows, and on her return, at the expiration of half-an-hour, found her mistress sitting by
the fire and the girl lying dead on the floor; but she observed that a clean cap had been
put on her head since she went out, and that the blood had run through it. At night the
body was privately buried.
This transaction, added to the character of the mistress, having raised a
suspicion in the neighbourhood, a warrant was issued by the coroner to take up the
body, and an inquest being made into the cause of the girl's death, Mr Salmon, a
surgeon, declared that she had received several wounds, almost any one of which
would have proved mortal. The jury found both prisoners guilty, and they were
sentenced to die. As the country people were violently enraged against them, they
were conducted to the place of execution between three and four in the morning,
attended only by the jailer and about half-a-dozen people, lest they should have been
torn in pieces.
When they came to the spot, it was found that the gibbet had been cut down;
on which a carpenter was sent for, who immediately put up another, and mother and
daughter were executed before six o'clock, to the disappointment of the country to
witness the death of two such unworthy wretches.
WILLIAM CREAK
Mail robber: Executed, much lamented, on Bagshot-heath, and his body
hung in chains, where he committed the robbery.
THIS is another particular case, which we do not find. any reporters who have
gone before us to have noted.
We have already observed, that this species of public robbery, was formerly,
though never pardoned after conviction, very common. It is now a matter of surprise,
to reflect that such vast property, as always has been remitted by post-letters, should
have been so insecurely guarded in their conveyance. A lad with the mail behind him,
often carried thousands of pounds through lonely roads, in the dead hour of night.
Hence, where there could be no resistance, every lurking cowardly thief, was able to
take the mail at his pleasure; but happily, the disposal of the plunder seldom failed of
leading to a discovery of the perpetrator.
When the unfortunate man, who is the subject of the present report, was
tempted to swerve from the paths of honesty, in robbing the mail, he was a linen-
draper of good repute, at Henley-upon-Thames. He married the sister of one Kitson, a
maltster of the same town, by whom, it appears, he was seduced to commit the
robbery; and who then, having received a part of the plunder, basely impeached, and
brought him to an ignominious death. We say basely, though the public received
benefit from the information of Kitson, yet cannot we divest ourselves of detestation
of such individual treachery.
In consequence of this information, a warrant was issued for the apprehension
of Creak, who had repaired to London with the remainder of the bank-notes, in order
to pass them away. After considerable search, he was apprehended in the borough of
Southwark; in the very, act of putting off some of the stolen notes, for payment of
linens, and when he found that he was apprehended he stuffed the remainder into his
mouth, and actually swallowed them before they could be recovered.
He was indicted at the Assizes held at Kingston, for the county of Surry, in the
month of August, 1740, and convicted of robbing the Western and Portsmouth mails.
This man, though his offence was of so heinous a nature, may claim some
compassion from the feeling reader. He had a large family, bore an excellent character
among his neighbours, and his credit was still good with his merchants in London.
Unsuspicious of others, he had given credit to a considerable amount, and was
deceived in promises of payment. It also appeared that this was the only piece of
iniquity, in which he had been concerned.
WILLIAM DUELL
Executed for Murder and came to Life again while being prepared for
Dissection in Surgeons' Hall, 24th of November, 1740
WILLIAM DUELL was convicted of occasioning the death of Sarah Griffin,
at Acton, by robbing and ill-treating her. Having suffered, 24th of November, 1740, at
Tyburn, with Thomas Clock, William Meers, Margery Stanton and Eleanor Munoman
(who had been convicted of several burglaries and felonies), his body was brought to
Surgeons' Hall to be anatomised; but after it was stripped and laid on the board, and
one of the servants was washing it, in order to be cut, he perceived life in him, and
found his breath to come quicker and quicker, on which a surgeon took some ounces
of blood from him; in two hours he was able to sit up in his chair, and in the evening
was again committed to Newgate, and his sentence, which might be again inflicted,
was changed to transportation.
GILBERT LANGLEY
Transported for robbing a man of three farthings, December, 1740
GILBERT LANGLEY was born of Roman Catholic parents in London, where
his father was an eminent goldsmith, and who sent his son to the seat of his
grandfather in Derbyshire when he was only three years of age.
Having continued in this situation four years, his mother's anxiety induced her
to fetch him home; soon after which he was entered in the school of the Charterhouse,
where he became a tolerably good classical scholar.
The father now wished to send his son abroad for farther education, and that
he might not fail of being brought up a strict Catholic: this was warmly opposed by
the mother, through tenderness to her child; but her death left the father to act as he
pleased.
The prior of the Benedictine convent at Douay being in London, Langley's
father agreed for his board and education, and committed him to the care of his new
guardians with whom he proceeded to Dover, sailed for Calais, and, having travelled
thence to St. Omers, on the 1o1 lowing day reached Douay, where young Langley was
examined by the prior and fellows of the college, and admitted of the school.
At the end of three years he became a tolerable master of the French language,
exclusive of his other literary acquirements so that, at the Christmas following, he was
chosen king of the class, which is a distinction bestowed on the best of the scholars,
whose business it is to regulate the public entertainments of the school.
It was the custom at Douay for officers to attend at the gates of the town, to
detect any persons bringing in contraband liquors, because the merchants of the place
paid a large duty on them, which duty was annually farmed by the highest bidder.
During the Christmas holidays Langley and three of his schoolfellows quitted
the town, to purchase a small quantity of brandy at an under price; but being observed
by a soldier, who saw their bottles filled, he informed the officers of the affair; the
consequence of which was that the young gentlemen were stopped, and the liquor
found hid under their cassocks. They offered money for their release; but it was
refused, and they were conducted to the house of the farmer-general.
At the instant of their arrival two Franciscan friars, seeing them, said it was
illegal to take students before the civil magistrates, because the superior of their own
college was accountable for their conduct.
Hereupon they were taken home to the prior; and the Farmer-general making
his demand of the customary fine, the prior thought it extravagant, and refused to pay
it: but at length the matter was settled by arbitration.
In the Catholic colleges the students lived in a very meagre manner during the
season of Lent having little to subsist on but bread and sour wine; a circumstance that
frequently tempted them to supply their wants by acts of irregularity. However, if
English students, out of their own money, could procure animal food, they might
dress it; the servants of the college pretending not to see the impiety.
At this season Langley and five of his companions, oppressed by the calls of
hunger, determined to make an attack on the kitchen; but, at the instant they had
forced open the door, they were overheard by the servants, the consequence of which
was that many furious blows were exchanged by the contending parties.
On the following day the delinquents were summoned to attend the prior, who
was so incensed at this outrage against the good order of the society, that he declared
they should be expelled as soon as a consistory of the monks could be held.
But, when the consistory assembled, they resolved to pardon all the offenders,
on acknowledging their faults, and promising not to renew them, except one, named
Brown, who had twice knocked down the shoemaker of the college because he had
called out to alarm the prior.
The young gentlemen, chagrined at losing their associate, determined to be
revenged on some one at least of the servants who had given evidence against them;
and, after revolving many schemes, they determined that the man who lighted the fires
should be the object of their vengeance, because he had struck several of them during
the rencounter.
This being resolved on, they disguised themselves, and went to a wood-house
adjacent to the college; and, being previously provided with rods, they waited till the
man came with his wheelbarrow to fetch wood, when one of them, going behind him,
threw a cloak over his head, which being immediately tied round his neck, the rest
stripped him, and flogged him in the most severe manner; while he called for
assistance, but in vain, our heroes having taken previous care to shut the door of time
wood-house.
The flagellation was just ended when the bell rung for the students to attend
their evening exercise; on which they left the unhappy victim of their revenge, and
repaired to the public hall.
In the mean time the poor sufferer ran into the cloisters, exclaiming 'Le diable!
Le diable!' as if he really thought the devil had tormented him: and hence he ran to the
kitchen, where he recounted the adventure to his fellow-servants, who dressed his
wounds, carried him to bed, and gave him something to nourish him.
A suspicion arising that the students had been the authors of this calamity to
the poor fellow, the servants communicated the circumstances of it to the prior, who
promised his endeavours to find out and punish the delinquents, and with this view
went into the hall with a look at once penetrating and indignant: but the young
gentlemen having bound themselves to secrecy by an oath, no discovery could be
made.
Young Langley having distinguished himself by his attention to literature for
the space of two years, the monks began to consider him as one who would make a
valuable acquisition to their society, for which reason they treated him with singular
respect, and at length prevailed upon him to agree to enter into the fraternity if his
father's consent could be obtained.
As Langley was in no want of money, he frequently went into the town, to
habituate himself to the manners of the people, and to observe their customs. One day,
being a holiday, he, and one of his school-fellows named Meynel, asked the prior
permission to walk on the ramparts; which being denied, they went out without leave,
and, repairing to a tavern, drank wine till they were intoxicated.
In this condition they went to the ramparts, where, having been for some time
the laughing-stock of the company, they went home to bed. Being missed at evening
prayers, some of the other students apologized for their absence by saying they were
ill, and the excuse was very readily admitted: but in a few days afterwards a
gentleman called on the prior, and told him what a ridiculous figure his students had
made on the ramparts.
Incensed at this violation of their duty, the prior sent for them to his chamber,
and gave orders that they should be flogged with great severity. This indignity had
such an effect on the mind of Langley that he grew reserved and morose, and would
have declined all his studies, but that one of the monks, called Father Howard,
restored him to good humour by his indulgent treatment, and persuaded him to pay his
usual attention to literature.
Father Howard's considerate conduct had such an effect on Langley, that he
spent the greater part of his time with that gentleman, who instructed him in the
principles of logic, and was about to initiate him in those of philosophy, when his
father wrote a letter requiring him to return to his native country.
The society being unwilling to lose one who they thought would become a
valuable member, the prior wrote to England, requesting that the youth might be
permitted to complete his education; but the father insisted on his return.
Hereupon the young gentleman left the college, and, proceeding by the way of
St. Omers, reached Calais in two days. As the wind was contrary, it was some days
longer before the company embarked for England, when, instead of putting into
Dover, the vessel came round to the Thames, and the passengers were landed at
Gravesend.
Langley, having spent all his money at Calais, now affected an air of
unconcern, saying that he had no English money in his possession, from his having
been so long abroad; on which one of the company lent him money, and on the
following day he arrived at his father's house in London.
When he had reposed himself some days after his travel, the father desired him
to make choice of some profession; on which he mentioned his inclination to study
physic or law; but the old gentlemnan, who had no good opinion of either of these
professions, persuaded him to follow his own trade of a goldsmnith.
For the present, however, he was placed at an academy in Chancery Lane, that
he might be instructed in those branches of knowledge requisite for a tradesman; but,
becoming acquainted with some young gentlemen of the law, he found that his
father's allowance of pocket-money was insufficient for his use; and, being unwilling
that his new acquaintance should think he was deficient in cash, he purloined small
sums from a drawer in his father's shop; and, when he did not find any money there,
stole some pieces of broken gold, which he disposed of to the Jews.
Mr. Langley having sent his son with some plate to the house of a gentleman
in Grosvenor Square, the youth saw a very beautiful woman go into a shop opposite a
public house; on which he went into the latter, and, inquiring after her, found she had
gone to her own lodgings. This ascertained, he delivered his plate, and formed a
resolution of visiting the lady on the Sunday following.
When the Sunday came the old gentleman went out to smoke his pipe, as the
son imagined, at an adjacent public house; and in the mean time the son stole seven
guineas from three different bags, that his father might not discover the robbery, and
immediately repaired to the lodgings of the lady whom he had seen.
From her lodgings they went to a tavern, where they continued till the
following day, having no idea of detection: but it happened that Mr. Langley, senior,
instead of going to the public house as usual, had watched the son to the tavern above
mentioned.
On the following day the father interrogated the youth respecting his conduct,
and particularly asked where he had been the day before. The young fellow said he
had been at church, where he met with some acquaintance, who prevailed on him to
go to the tavern.
The father, knowing the falsehood of his tale, corrected his son in a severe
manner, and forbade him to dine at his table till his conduct should be reformed. Thus
obliged to associate with the servants, young Langley became soon too intimate with
the kitchen-maid, and robbed his father to buy such things as he thought would be
acceptable to her.
Among other things he purchased her a pair of shoes laced with gold, which he
was presenting to her in the parlour at the very moment that his father knocked at the
door. The girl instantly quitted the room; and the old gentleman interrogating the son
respecting the shoes, the latter averred that a lady, who said she had bought them in
the neighbourhood, desired leave to deposit them at their house till the following day.
After this the father permitted the son to dine with him as usual; but it was not
long before he caught him in too intimate a connexion with the maid-servant in the
kitchen; on which the girl was dismissed from her service, and Mr. Langley
threatened to disinherit his son unless he would reform his conduct.
A middle-aged woman of grave appearance was now hired as a servant; but
the evil complained of was far from being cured, as an intimacy between her and the
young gentleman was soon discovered by the father.
It was not long after the servant-girl above mentioned had been discharged
before she swore herself pregnant by the son, on which he was taken into custody by a
warrant; the consequence of which was that the father paid fifteen pounds to
compromise the affair, after which he received the son to his favour, and forgave all
the errors of his former conduct.
The death of the old gentleman put his son in possession of a considerable
fortune, exclusive of a good settled trade; and for the first year he applied himself so
closely to business, that he made a net profit of seven hundred pounds: but he did not
long continue this course of industry; for, having formerly made connexions with
women of ill fame, particularly in the purlieus of Drury Lane, be now renewed his
visits to those wretched victims to, and punishers of, the vices of men.
A man of genteel appearance, named Gray, having ordered plate of Langley to
the amount of a hundred pounds, invited him to a tavern to drink. In the course of the
conversation the stranger said he had dealt with his late father, and would introduce
him to a lady who had thirty thousand pounds to her fortune. This was only a scheme
to defraud Langley, who delivered the plate, and took a draft for the money on a
vintner in Bartholomew Close; but, when he went to demand payment, the vintner
was removed.
On the following day the vintner's wife went to Langley, and informed him
that Gray had defrauded her husband of four hundred and fifty pounds; and Langley,
being of a humane disposition, interested himself so far in behalf of the unfortunate
man, that a letter of license for three years was granted him by his creditors.
Langley now took out an action against Gray, but was not able to find him;
when one day he was accosted by a man in Fleet Street, who asked him to step into a
public house, and he would tell him where he should meet with the defrauder.
Langley complying with the proposal, the stranger said he would produce Gray within
an hour if the other would give him a guinea; which being done, the stranger went out,
but returned no more.
Exasperated by this circumstance, which seems to have been a contrivance of
one of Gray's accomplices, Mr. Langley employed an attorney, who soon found the
delinquent, against whom an action was taken out, in consequence of which be was
confined several years in the Marshalsea.
Langley now became a sportsman on the turf at Newmarket, under the
instruction of a vintner in Holborn, whose niece entered into his service, but soon fell
a victim to his unbounded passion for the sex.
Langley becoming acquainted with some young fellows in the Temple, three
of them, and four women of the town, went with him to Greenwich, where they gave
the ladies the slip, and took a boat to London; but the women, pursuing them,
overtook them in the river, and, attempting to board their boat, afforded great
diversion to the spectators: our adventurers' watermen, however, rowing hard, they
reached the Temple, and concealed themselves in one of the chambers a few minutes
before the ladies landed.
Soon after this Langley made another excursion to Greenwich to visit a lady
and gentleman, who, having a remarkably handsome servant-maid, our adventurer
found means to seduce her; the consequence of which was that she became pregnant,
and made repeated applications to him for support: whereupon he gave her a
considerable sum of money, and heard no more of her from that period.
Thus living in a continual round of dissipation, his friends recommended
matrimony us the most likely step to reclaim him; in consequence of which he
married a young lady named Brown, with a handsome fortune.
He had not been long married before he determined to borrow all the cash and
jewels he could, and decamp with the property. As he had the reputation of being in
ample circumstances, be found no difficulty in getting credit for many articles of
value, with which he and his wife embarked for Holland; and, in the mean time, his
creditors took out a commission of bankruptcy against him.
When Langley came to Rotterdam he applied to the States-General for
protection, in apprehension of being pursued by his creditors; but the States not being
then sitting, the creditors made application to Lord Chesterfield, then ambassador at
the Hague, which frustrated his intention.
In the interim his creditors found out his lodgings in a village near Rotterdam;
but be eluded their search, leaving his wife, with four hundred pounds, in the care of a
friend; and not even telling her the place of his retreat, to prevent any possibility of a
discovery.
After skulking from place to place, he went back to Rotterdam, and
surrendered to his creditors; but found that his wife was gone with an English captain
to Antwerp. On his arrival in England he was examined before the commissioners,
and treated with the customary lenity.
After his affairs were adjusted he sailed to Barbadoes, where he soon
contracted so many debts that be was glad to take his passage to Port Royal, in
Jamaica; and soon after his arrival there he went to visit a planter at some distance,
who would have engaged him as his clerk.
Langley told the planter that he owed twenty dollars at Port Royal, for which
he had left his chest as a security. The gentleman instantly giving him the money to
redeem it, he went to Port Royal, assumed the name of Englefield, embarked on board
a man of war as midshipmen, and came to England, where the ship was paid off at the
expiration of six mouths.
On his arrival in London he sent for a man who had formerly lived with his
father, from whom he learnt that his creditors had not made any dividend under the
bankruptcy, and were engaged in a lawsuit respecting a part of the property. This
faithful old servant of his father told him that his wife had retired to the north of
England; and, giving him money, recommended it to him to lodge privately in
Southwark.
This advice he followed, and kept himself retired for some time; but, passing
through Cheapside, he was arrested, and conducted to the Poultry Compter, where he
continued many months, during which he was supported by the benevolence of the
old servant above mentioned. While in the Compter he made some very bad
connexions; and, being concerned with some of the prisoners in an attempt to escape,
he was removed to Newgate, as a place of greater security.
While in this prison he fell ill of a disorder which threatened his life;
whereupon his friends discharged the debt for which he had been arrested, and
removed him to lodgings, where he soon recovered his health.
Shortly afterwards he got recommended to a captain in the Levant trade, with
whom he was to have sailed; but an unhappy attachment to a woman of ill fame
prevented his being ready to make the voyage.
Langley's friends were chagrined at this fresh instance of his imprudence; and
soon afterwards he was arrested, and carried to a spunging-house, where he attempted
to despatch himself by a halter; but the rope breaking, he escaped with life. The bailiff
and his wife happening to be now absent, and only two maid-servants in the house,
Langley made them both drunk, and, effecting his escape, crossed the water into the
Borough, where be worked some time with a colour-grinder.
Disgusted at a life attended by so much labour, he contracted with the captain
of a Jamaica ship, who took him to that island on the condition of selling him as a
slave, and, on his arrival, sold him to Colonel Hill, who employed him to educate his
children: but Langley, soon running from his employer, went on board a ship bound to
England: being impressed on his arrival in the Downs, he was put on board a man of
war, and carried round to Plymouth.
Langley and another man, deserting from the ship, strolled to London, and
took up their residence in a twopenny lodging hut, as Langley now found no friends to
support him, he contracted with one of those persons called crimps, who used to agree
with unhappy people to go as slaves to the colonies. His contract now was to sail to
Pennsylvania; but, while the ship lay in the Thames, he and a weaver from Spitalfields
made their escape, and, travelling to Canterbury, passed themselves as Protestant
refugees.
Going hence to Dover, they embarked for Calais; and, after some weeks'
residence in that place, Langley sailed to Lisbon, where he remained only a short time
before he contracted debts which obliged him to seek another residence, and he went
to Malaga, in Spain.
His poverty was now extreme; and, while be sat melancholy one day by the
sea-side, some priests asked him from what country he came. He answered, in Latin,
'From England.'
Hereupon they conducted him to a convent, relieved his distresses, and then
began to instruct him in the principles of the Roman Catholic religion. Langley
disguised his sentiments, and, after being apparently made a convert, was
recommended as a page to a Spanish lady of distinction.
In this situation he continued several months; but, having an affair of gallantry
with the niece to the old lady, he was compelled to make a precipitate retreat from a
window, and shelter himself in the house of an Irish tailor; who procured a passage
for him to Gibraltar in the first ship that sailed.
On his arrival at Gibraltar he would have entered into the army; but being
refused, because he was not tall enough, his distress compelled him to work as a
labourer in repairing the barracks. He soon quitted this business, and officiated as a
waiter in the tennis-court belonging to the garrison; but, it being intimated to the
governor that he was a spy, he was lodged in a dungeon, where he remained more
than a fortnight.
On obtaining his discharge he embarked on board a Spanish vessel bound to
Barbary with corn: and, on his return to Spain, applied to the monks of a convent, who
charitably relieved him; and the prior agreed to take him a voyage to Santa Cruz.
Having, however, no great prospect of pecuniary advantage in this way of life, he
went to Oratava, where some English merchants contributed to his support; but be
soon sailed to Genoa, as he could get no settled employ at Oratava.
From Genoa the vessel sailed to Cadiz; and Langley, being now appointed
steward to the captain, in the course of his reading some letters found one directed to
Messrs. Ryan and Mannock; and, having been a schoolfellow with Mr. Mannock, he
requested the captain's permission to go on shore, and was received by him in the
most friendly manner: he offered to serve him in any way within his power, when
Langley said that what he wished was a discharge from his present situation.
Hereupon Mannock wrote to the captain, desiring him to pay the steward, and
discharge him; but this being refused, Langley took a lodging, to which he was
recommended by his friend, who desired he would dine daily at his table till he
procured a passage for England. He likewise gave him money and clothes, so as to
enable him to appear in the character of a gentleman.
Langley behaved with great regularity for some time; out the season of a
carnival advancing, he got into company with a woman of ill fame, with whom he
spent the evening; and, on his return, was robbed of his hat, wig, and a book which he
bad borrowed of his friend.
On the following day Mr. Mannock saw the book lying at a shop for sale,
which chagrined him so much that he asked Langley for it, who thereupon
acknowledged the whole affair; and Mr. Mannock supposing the woman was privy to
the robbery, he took out a warrant against her; by which he recovered his book, which
he greatly esteemed.
This matter being adjusted, Langley, by the help of his friend, procured a
passage for England; but just when be was going to embark he met with a woman,
who detained him till the ship had sailed; on which he took a boat, and passed over to
St. Lucar, where he went on board an English vessel, which brought him to his native
country.
On his arrival in London he found that his creditors, under the bankruptcy, had
received ten shillings in the pound, which gave him reason to hope that he should
have a sum of money returned to him, with which he proposed to engage in a small
way of business; and in that view applied to his wife's mother for her assistance, and
also to inform him where he might find his wife; but she positively refused to comply
with either request.
Langley now gave himself up to despair, associated with the worst of
company, and, though he had some money left him at this juncture, he dissipated the
whole in the most extravagant manner.
He now made an acquaintance with one Hill, a young fellow who was in
similar circumstances; and, having agreed to go to Paris together, they walked as far
as Dover; but, on their arrival, finding that an embargo had been laid on all vessels in
the port, they determined to return to London.
Being now destitute of cash, they demanded a man's money on the highway;
but, on his saying he had not any, they searched him, and took from him three
farthings, which they threw away almost as soon as they had got it for this offence
they were apprehended on the same day, and, being tried at the next assizes for Kent,
were capitally convicted; but the sentence was changed to transportation for seven
years.
Langley was transported in the month of December, 1740.
This man appears to have fallen the victim of unrestrained appetite and an
aversion to honest industry. That his heart was not wholly depraved we may
charitably infer from his treatment of the unfortunate vintner. But early vices grew up
in him, until they (as is commonly the case) assumed the force of habits; and thus a
life which might have been passed honourably and usefully, and by consequence
happily, became overwhelmed with wretchedness and ultimate ignominy. It is to be
regretted that his mother-in-law refused to befriend him on his last arrival in England.
Had she done so, his sad experience might possibly have preserved him from future
dishonesty and shame.
CAPTAIN SAMUEL GOODERE, A FRATRICIDE;
MATTHEW MAHONY AND CHARLES WHITE
Executed for the Murder of Sir John Dinely Goodere, Bart., at the Hot
Wells, Bristol, 20th of April, 1741
SIR JOHN DINELY GOODERE succeeded his father, Sir Edward, in the
possession of an estate of three thousand pounds a year, situated near Evesham, in
Worcestershire. His brother, Samuel, was bred to the sea, and at length was advanced
to the rank of captain of a man-of-war.
Sir John married the daughter of a merchant and received twenty thousand
pounds as a marriage portion. But mutual unhappiness was the consequence of this
connection, for the husband was brutal in his manners, and the wife perhaps not
strictly observant of the sacred vow she had taken: for she was too frequently visited
by Sir Robert Jasen; and, after recriminations between the married pair, Sir John
brought an action in the Court of Common Pleas for criminal conversation, and five
hundred pounds' damages were awarded by the jury.
Sir John's next step was to indict his lady for a conspiracy, and, a conviction
following, she was fined and imprisoned a year in the King's Bench. He likewise
petitioned for a divorce; but, the matter being heard in the House of Lords, his petition
was thrown out.
Sir John having no children, Captain Samuel Goodere formed very sanguine
expectations of possessing the estate; but finding that the brother had docked the
entail in favour of his sister's children, the Captain sought the most diabolical means
of revenge for the supposed injury.
While the Captain's vessel lay in the port of Bristol, Sir John went to that city
on business; and being engaged to dine with an attorney, named Smith, the Captain
prevailed on the latter to permit him to make one of their company, under pretence of
being reconciled to his brother. Mr Smith consented, and used his good offices to
accommodate the difference, and a sincere reconciliation appeared to have taken
place.
This visit was made on the 10th of January, 1741, and the Captain, having
previously concerted his measures, brought some sailors on shore with him, and left
them at a public-house, in waiting to seize the baronet in the evening. Accordingly,
when the company broke up, the Captain attended his brother through the streets, and
when they came opposite the public-house the seamen ran out, seized Sir John, and
conveyed him to a boat that had been appointed to wait for his reception. As soon as
the 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 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."
Being put on board, Sir John appealed to the seamen for help; but the Captain
put a stop to any efforts they might have made to assist him, by saying he was a
lunatic, and brought on board to prevent his committing an act of suicide.
White and Mahony now conveyed him to the purser's cabin, which the Captain
guarded with a drawn sword, while the other villains attempted to strangle him with a
handkerchief which they found in his pocket, the wretched victim crying out
"Murder!" and beseeching them not to kill him, and offering all he possessed as a
compensation for his life.
As they could not strangle him with the handkerchief the Captain gave them a
cord; with which Mahony dispatched him, while White held his hands and trod on his
stomach. The Captain now retired to his cabin, and on the murder being committed
the perpetrators of it went to him and told him "the job was done"; on which he gave
them money, and bade them seek their safety in flight.
The attorney with whom the brothers had dined having heard of the
commission of a murder, and knowing of the former animosity of the Captain to his
brother, immediately conjectured who it was that had fallen a sacrifice; on which he
went to the Mayor of Bristol, who issued his warrant to the water-bailiff, who, going
on board, found that the lieutenant and cooper had prudently confined the Captain to
his cabin.
The offender, being brought on shore, was committed to Newgate, and
Mahony and White, being taken a few hours afterwards, were lodged in the same
prison. At the sessions held at Bristol on the 26th of March 1741, these offenders were
brought to trial, and, being convicted on the fullest evidence, received sentence of
death. 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.
CAPTAIN HENRY SMYTHEE
Executed at Dorchester, April 12, 1741, for the murder or the female whom
he had seduced.
No sooner had we resumed the pen, after putting the finishing stroke to the
interesting account of Gilbert Langley; and while yet the innocent Nanette was
tripping o'er our fancy; the case of a detested murderer of the female he had loved,
obtrudes upon our notice. When the object of his lust, and the victim of his barbarity,
fell into his snare, she was innocent, virtuous and beautiful, as Nanette. With the poet
would we exclaim,
"Accurs'd be that man who rifles innocence and beauty,
And then, like a detested weed, throws it away."
Yet, after the commission of such crimes, men have breathed the air of
heaven, while they deserved damnation; until the terribly offended laws of man have
inflicted punishment on the wretches. Every circumstance that could aggravate, will
be found in this shocking case. The murderer was a husband to another woman, and a
father of children born in wedlock.
Henry Smythee was brought up to a sea-faring life, and succeeded his father in
the command of a large merchant ship, in a foreign trade. After he had made several
voyages, a storm obliged him to put into the harbour of Pool in Dorsetshire, where he
saw a young lady, the daughter of a merchant, to whom he paid his addresses, and was
in a short time married. His wife's father dying soon after their marriage, Mr. Smythee
declined going any longer to sea, engaged in the mercantile business, and employed
his leisure hours in rural diversions.
One day, when out with his gun, he wandered so far from home that he lost his
way, and being very hungry, he strolled to a cottage kept by a poor widower, named
Ralph Mew, who had an only daughter, equally distinguished by the elegance of her
form, and the simplicity of her manners.
Mr. Smythee requested the favour of some food; but the countryman
suspecting that he meant to take some undue advantage of him, told him he might be
supplied at a public-house a mile distant. Smythee, to convince the countryman that
he was no impostor, shewed him a diamond-ring, a purse of gold, and his watch; on
which he was asked to sit down; and Jane Mew the daughter, fried some bacon and
eggs for him, while her father drew some of his best ale.
After the repast, he recounted some of his adventures in foreign parts; but in
the mean time regarded the daughter with an eye of desire, and being struck with her
superior charms, resolved to get possession of her, if possible.
On his quitting the house, the old man told him that if he came that way
another time, he should be welcome to any thing in his cottage, except his daughter.
On the-following day he went to the cottage, and gave the old man a tortoise-shell
snuff-box, as a compliment for his hospitable behaviour the day before.
The old cottager going out, Mr. Smythee paid his warmest addresses to the
daughter, to whom he presented some jewels: but she no sooner judged of his design,
than she said, "Is it thus, sir, you make returns for my father's hospitality, and my
civility? And can you be such a wretch, as to think that my poverty will make me
guilty of a dishonourable action?" Saying this, she rejected his presents with
contempt; while he, struck with the force of what she had urged, remained some time
speechless, and then attributed his conduct to the violence of his passion, and offered
to make her all the satisfaction in his power, by marriage.
The girl acquainting her father with what had passed, Mr. Smythee was
permitted to pay his addresses in an honourable way: but such were his artifice and
villainy, that his solemn vows of marriage soon prevailed over the too credulous girl;
and her ruin was the consequence.
When the father found that his daughter was pregnant, he died with grief,
leaving the unhappy girl a prey to the pungent sorrows of her own mind. Distressed as
she was, she wrote to her seducer, but as he took no notice of her letter, she went to
Pool, and being directed to his house, the door was opened by Mrs. Smythee, who
demanded her business, and said she was the wife of the person for whom she
inquired. The poor girl was so shocked to find that Mr. Smythee had a wife, that it
was with difficulty she was kept from fainting.
When somewhat recovered, she said that she was with child by Mr. Smythee,
who had seduced her under promise of marriage. Hereupon the wife censured her
conduct with unreasonable severity, and threatened that she should be lodged in
prison if she did not immediately quit the town.
Leaving the house, the unhappy creature fainted in the street, and was soon
surrounded by a number of females, who insulted her with every term of reproach.
When she recovered her senses, she went to a public-house, where she intended to
have lodged; but the landlady threatening to send for the beadle, she was obliged to
quit the house.
In the interim Mr. Smythee came to his own house, and after being compelled
to listen to the reproaches of his wife on the infidelity of his conduct, he went out, and
desired a person to call on the young woman, and appoint her to meet him at a place
without the town.
The unfortunate girl met him accordingly; what passed between them it is
impossible to know; but on the following day she was found with her throat cut, and a
bloody knife laying by her. Smythee absconding, it was generally supposed that he
had been the murderer; and, on his return to Pool, about a month afterwards, he was
taken into custody, and lodged in the county gaol.
In his defence at his trial, he urged that the reason of his absence from his
family was a quarrel with his wife, in consequence of the unhappy discovery that had
been made by the deceased: but as he could bring no proof of his being absent from
the spot when the murder was committed, no doubt remained of his guilt, he was
capitally convicted, and sentenced to die.
After conviction, he was visited by several clergymen, who exerted
themselves to impress him with a due sense of his awful situation. As his death
advanced, he became still more resigned, acknowledged the many errors of his life,
and confessed himself worthy to undergo the rigour of the law.
He walked to the place of execution, amidst an immense surrounding
multitude, and, having ascended the cart, addressed the populace, advising them to
refrain from yielding to them first impulses of temptation, as they would wish to be
preserved from the violation of the Divine laws. After the usual devotions, he drew
his cap over his face, and saying, "To thee, O Lord, I resign my soul," he was
launched into eternity.
JAMES HALL
Hanged for Petit-Treason, in the Murder of his Master.
THIS malefactor, according to the account given by himself, was descended of
honest parents, of Wells in Hampshire, who gave him such an education as might
qualify him for any ordinary rank of life.
Being unwilling to remain in the country, be came to London, and lived some
time with a corn-chandler; and after a continuation in this service, he married, and had
several children; but not living happily with his wife, articles of separation were
executed between them. After this he married another woman, by whom he had one
child, and who visited him after his being in custody for the murder.
At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in August, 1741, he was indicted for the
murder of John Penny, gentleman, and pleading guilty, received sentence of death.
Mr Penny had chambers in Clement's Inn; and Hall had lived with him seven
years before he committed the murder: nor had he formed any design of being guilty
of the horrid deed till within about a month of its perpetration: but having kept more
company than his circumstances could afford, he had involved himself in difficulties,
which made him resolve to murder and rob his master.
On the 7th of June, he intoxicated himself with liquor, and then determined to
carry his design into execution. Mr Penny coming home between eleven and twelve at
night, Hall assisted in undressing him in the dining-room; and while he was walking
towards the bed, the villain followed him with a stick which he had concealed for the
purpose, and struck him one blow with such force that he never spoke afterwards; and
continued his blows on the head till he was apparently dead.
Willing, however, to be certain of completing the horrid tragedy, and to avoid
detection, he went into the dining room, and stripping himself naked, he took a small
fruit knife belonging to his master, and returning to the chamber, cut his throat with it,
holding his neck over the chamber-pot. Mr Penny bled very freely; for when the blood
was mixed with a small quantity of water, it almost filled the pot five times; and three
of the pots thus mixed the murderer threw into the sink, and two in the coal-hole. He
then took his master's waistcoat, which was lined with duffel, and bound it round his
neck, to suck up the remainder of the blood.
This being done, he took the body on his shoulders, carried it to the necessary,
and threw it in head foremost; and flying back immediately to the chambers, under the
most dreadful apprehensions of mind, he took his master's coat, bloody shirt, the stick
that he had knocked him down with, and some rags that he had used in wiping up the
blood, and running a second time naked to the necessary-house, threw them in at a
hole on the opposite side of it.
The body being thus disposed of, he stole about thirty-six guineas from his
master's pocket, and writing-desk; and such was the confusion of his mind, that he
likewise took some franks, sealing-wax, and other articles for which he had no use:
and then he employed the remainder of the night in washing and rubbing the rooms
with cloths; but finding it no easy matter to get out the blood, he sent for the laundress
in the morning to wash them again, telling her that his master's nose had bled over
night.
On the following day the guilty wretch strolled from place to place, unable to
find rest for a moment any where; and all his thoughts being engaged in concealing
the murder, which he hoped was effectually done, from the place in which he had
secreted the body.
On the Friday following he went to Mr Wooton, his master's nephew, on a
pretence of enquiring for Mr Penny, who he said had quitted the chambers two days
before, and gone somewhere by water; so that he was afraid some accident had
happened to him.
Mr Wooton was so particular in his enquiries after his uncle, that Hall was
exceedingly terrified at his questions, and knew not what answer to make to them.
After this the criminal went twice every day to Mr Wooton, to enquire after his
master, for ten days; but lived all the while in a torment of mind that is not to be
described.
So wretched was he, that finding it impossible to sleep in the chambers, he got
his wife to come and be with him: and they lay in Mr Penny's bed: but still sleep was
a stranger to him.
At length Mr Wooton had Hall taken into custody, on a violent suspicion that
he had murdered his uncle. On his first examination before a magistrate, he steadily
avowed his innocence: but being committed to Newgate he attempted an escape: this,
however, was prevented; and a few days afterwards he confessed his guilt before
some relations of the deceased.
We have already mentioned that he pleaded guilty on his trial; and have now
to add that, after sentence was passed on him, he was exceedingly contrite and
penitent, and confessed his guilt in letters to his friends.
On the day before his death he received the sacrament, with all apparent signs
of that penitence which was necessary to prepare him for the dreadful scene that lay
before him.
He was hanged at the end of Catherine Street in the Strand, on the 15th of
September, 1741, and his body afterwards hung in chains at Shepherd's Bush, three
miles beyond Tyburn Turnpike, on the road to Acton.
The following is a letter which this malefactor wrote to his wife, the night
preceding his execution.
Twelve o'clock Sunday night
My Dear,
I am very sorry we could not have the liberty of a little time by ourselves,
when you came to take your leave of me; if we had, I should have thought of many
more things to have said to you than I did; but then I fear it would have caused more
grief at our parting. I am greatly concerned that I am obliged to leave you and my
child, and much more in such a manner, as to give the world room to reflect upon you
on my account; though none but the ignorant will, but rather pity your misfortunes, as
being fully satisfied of your innocency in all respects relating to the crime for which I
am in a few hours to suffer.
I now heartily wish, not only for my own sake, but the injured persons, yours,
and my child's, that I was as innocent as you are, but freely own I am not, nor possibly
can be in this world; yet I humbly hope, and fully trust, through God's great mercy,
and the merits of my blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, to be happy in the next.
After I parted with you, I received the holy sacrament comfortably, which Mr
Broughton was so good as to administer to me, who has also several times before
taken a great deal of pains to instruct me, and so has some others of his acquaintance,
by whose assistance, and my own endeavours, I hope God will pardon all my sins for
Christ's sake, and admit me into his heavenly kingdom.
My dear, some of my latest prayers will be to God to direct and prosper you
and my child in all good ways, so long as he pleases to let you live here on earth; that
afterwards he may receive you both to his mercies to all eternity. I hope I shall
willingly submit to my fate, and die in peace with all men. This is now all the comfort
I can give you in this world, who living was, and dying hope to remain,
Your loving and most affectionate husband,
JAMES HALL
To all we have said on the subject of murder, little need be added on this
occasion. Those who fail to be struck by a recital of this horrid tale, must have less
humanity than we hope falls to the share of any of our readers.
Instead, therefore, of making any remarks on this particular case, we will
suppose it to be a sufficient comment on itself; and conclude with a prayer that we
may all be delivered even from the temptation of spilling innocent blood!
THE END
THE NEWGATE CALENDAR
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VOLUME 2
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