THE NEWGATE CALENDAR

Volume 3 of 4; 1710-1725

1824

Contents

1710

1: Grace Tripp; 2: Daniel Damaree, George Purchase and Francis Willis

1711

3: Jack Addison; 4: Richard Thornhill, Esq; 5: Tom Gerrard; 6: Will Maw

1712

7: Davy Morgan; 8: Elizabeth Watson; 9: Elizabeth Chivers; 10: Colonel John Hamilton; 11: Richard Town

1713

12: Jack Blewit; 13: Tom Gray; 14: Ned Bonnet; 15: Richard Noble; 16: Dick Adams; 17: Ned Wicks; 18: Jack Shrimpton; 19: Will Lowther

1714

20: Roderick Audrey; 21: MacCartney; 22: Will Ogden and Tom Reynolds; 23: Henry Plunket; 24: William Johnson and Jane Housden; 25: Thomas Douglass

1715

26: Will Chance; 27: Nathaniel Parkhurst, Esq.; 28: The First Rebellion In Scotland

1716

29: Colonel Henry Oxburgh; 30: Richard Gascoigne; 31: Rev. William Paul; 32: John Hall, Esq.; 33: Robert Whitty, Felix O'Hara, and Joseph Sullivan; 34: Zachary Clare; 35: Henry Powel; 36: John Hamilton, Esq.

1717

37: James Quin, Esq.

1718

38: The Marquis de Paleotti; 39: Joseph Still; 40: James Sheppard; 41: John Price, Commonly Called Jack Ketch; 42: James Filewood Alias Vilet

1719

43: Catherine Jones; 44: Lieutenant Edward Bird; 45: Mark Anthony de la Porte; 46: Nicholas Horner

1720

47: Thomas Butler, Esq.

1721

48: Barbara Spencer; 49: Matthew Clarke; 50: William Shaw; 51: John Meff; 52: Arthur Gray; 53: Nathaniel Hawes

1722

54: Arundel Cooke, Esq., and John Woodburne; 55: John Hartley and Thomas Reeves; 56: John Hawkins and James Simpson; 57: William Burridge; 58: Nathaniel Jackson; 59: Thomas Butloge; 60: Margaret Fisher; 61: Matthias Brinsden; 62: Robert Wilkinson, James Lincoln, and Thomas Milksop

1723

63: William Spiggot And Thomas Phillips; 64: Richard Oakey, John Levey, and Matthew Flood; 65: Jacob Saunders; 66: Christopher Layer, Esq.; 67: William Burk; 68: Sarah Priddon, alias Sally Salisbury; 69: Alexander Day, alias Marmaduke Davenport, Esq.; 70: William Hawksworth; 71: Thomas Athoe, the Elder, and Thomas Athoe, the Younger; 72: Captain John Massey; 73: Philip Roche; 74: William Duce, James Butler, ― Wade, and ― Meads; 75: Humphry Angier; 76: Richard Parvin, Edward Elliot, Robert Kingshell, Henry Marshall, Edward Pink, John Pink and James Ansell; 77: John Stanley

1724

78: Stephen Gardener; 79: Joseph Blake alias Blueskin; 80: Jack Sheppard; 81: Lewis Houssart

1725

82: Thomas Packer and Joseph Picker; 83: Vincent Davis; 84: Robert Harpham; 85: Jonathan Wild;

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1710

1: Grace Tripp

Convicted of Murder on Evidence of the actual Perpetrator of the Crime, and executed at the Age of Nineteen at Tyburn, 27th of March, 1710

GRACE TRIPP was a native of Barton, in Lincolnshire; and after living as a servant at a gentleman's house in the country she came to London, was some time in a reputable family, and then procured a place in the house of Lord Torrington.

During her stay in this last service she became connected with a man named Peters, who persuaded her to be concerned in robbing her master's house, promising to marry her as soon as the fact should be perpetrated. Hereupon it was concerted between them that she should let Peters into the house in the night, and that they should join in stealing and carrying off the plate.

Peters was accordingly admitted at the appointed time, when all of the family, except the housekeeper, were out of town; but this housekeeper, hearing a noise, came into the room just as they had packed up the plate; on which Peters seized her and cut her throat, while Tripp held the candle. This being done, they searched the pockets of the deceased, in which they found about thirty guineas; with which, and the plate, they hastily decamped, leaving the street door open.

The offenders were taken in a few days, when Peters having been admitted as evidence for the Crown, Grace Tripp was convicted, at the age of nineteen years, and executed at Tyburn, on 27th March, 1710.

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2: Daniel Damaree, George Purchase and Francis Willis

Tried for High-Treason.

WHEN the Whig ministry of queen Anne were turned out of; or, in the modern phrase, had resigned their places, the Tory ministry who succeeded them encouraged a young divine named Henry Sacheverell to enflame the passions of the public by preaching against the settlement made at the revolution, and inculcating all those doctrines which were then held as the favourite tenets of what was called the high church party. Sacheverell was a man of abilities, and eminently possessed of those kind of talents which are calculated to inspire such sentiments as the preacher wishes his auditors to possess.

It is well known to the public in general that Dr Sacheverell's discourses tended to instigate the people against the house of Hanover, and to insinuate the right of the pretender to the throne of these realms. This caused such a general commotion that it became necessary to bring him to a trial in some way; and contrary to all former practice respecting a man of his rank, he was tried before the house of peers, and being convicted, was silenced for three years.

However, in consequence of his insinuations, the passions of the populace were so excited, that they almost adored him as a prophet; and some of them were led to commit those outrages which gave rise to the following trials.

Messieurs Bradbury and Burgess, two dissenting ministers, having made themselves conspicuous by preaching in behalf of the revolution settlement, and freedom of sentiment in matters of religion, they became the immediate objects of the resentment of the mob. What arose in con sequence hereof will appear from the following abstract of the trials of the criminals in question.

On the 19th of April, 1710, Daniel Damaree was indicted for being concerned with a multitude of men, to the number of five hundred, armed with swords and clubs, to levy war against the queen.

A gentleman deposed, that 'going through the Temple, he saw some thousands of people, who had attended Dr Sacheverell from Westminster-Hall: that some of them said they would pull down Dr Burgess's meeting-house that night.' Others differed as to the time of doing it, but all agreed on the act, and the meeting-house was demolished on the following night.

Captain Orril swore that on the first of March, hearing that 'the mob had pulled down Dr Burgess's meeting-house, he resolved to go among them, to do what service he could to government, by making discoveries.'

The captain going to Mr Bradbury's meeting, found the people plundering it, who obliged him to pull off his hat. After this he went to Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, where he saw a bonfire made of some of the materials of Dr Burgess's meeting-house, and saw the prisoner, who twirled his hat, and said 'D --n it, I will lead you on: G―d d―n me, we will have all the meeting-houses down; high church and Sacheverell, huzza!'

Another evidence proved that the prisoner headed part of the mob, some of whom proposed to go to the meeting-house in Wild-street; but this was objected to by others, who recommended going to Drury-lane, saying 'that meeting-house was worth ten of that in Wild-street'.

Joseph Collier swore that he saw the prisoner carry a brass sconce from Dr Burgess's meeting-house, and throw it into the fire in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, huzzaing, and crying 'High church and Sacheverell.' There was other evidence to prove the concern that the prisoner had in these illegal acts; and several persons appeared in his behalf; but as in their testimony they contradicted each other, the jury could not credit their evidence; but brought in a special verdict.

GEORGE PURCHASE was indicted for levying war against the queen, &c. in the same manner that Damaree had been. On this trial captain Orril deposed, that after seeing Dr Burgess's meeting-house demolished, and a fire made in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields with some of the materials thereof; he met a party of the guards, whom he directed to go to Drury-lane, where a bonfire was made of the pews, and other utensils; and that there was a great mob, which was dispersed by the guards: that the prisoner was very active, pushing at the breasts of the horses with a drawn sword: that this evidence asked him what he meant, telling him that in opposing the guard he opposed the queen, and would have persuaded him to put up his sword, and go home; but instead of taking this advice, he replied, 'D―n you, who are you? for High-Church and Sacheverell or no? I am, G―d d―n them all,' meaning the guards, 'for I am as good a man as any of them all': that he then called to the mob 'Come on, come on boys; I'll lead you on, I am for High-Church and Sacheverell, and I'll lose my life in the cause.'

Captain Orril farther deposed, that after this the prisoner ran resolutely with his sword in his hand, and made a full pass at the officer who commanded the guards; and if one of the guards had not given a spring and beat down his sword, he would have run the officer through the left flank: that the prisoner now retired a little lower, and the guards had by this time dispersed the mob, having knocked down forty or fifty of them in the action.

Richard Russell, one of the guards, deposed, that they were ordered by the serjeant to march into Drury-lane, and to return their bayonets and draw their swords; that when they came to Drury-lane, there was a bonfire with a large mob about it; that near the fire the horse were all drawn up into one line, with their tails against the wall, that none of the mob might come behind: that the prisoner then stood in the middle of the lane, huzzaing, and came up, and would have thrust himself between the horses; but the guards beat him off with the flats of their swords.

The prisoner produced some witnesses; but as what they said did not contradict the testimony of the evidences against him, their depositions had no weight. The jury were satisfied with the proofs that had arisen; but having a doubt respecting the points of law, they brought in a special verdict.

At the same time and place Francis Willis was tried for assisting in demolishing the meeting-house of Mr Bradbury in Fetter-lane, and burning the materials at a bonfire in Holborn; but was acquitted for want of sufficient evidence against him.

The verdicts respecting Damaree and Purchase being left special, their cases were argued in the court of King's Bench in Westminster-Hall, the following term, before the lord chief justice Parker and the other judges; when, though every artifice of the law was made use of in their behalf; they were adjudged to be guilty; in consequence of which they received sentence of death, and were executed at Tyburn, on the 15th of June, 1710.

From the fate of these unhappy men we may learn the extreme folly of the lower orders of people interesting themselves in religious and political disputes. These offenders were watermen to the queen; but their loyalty to their sovereign and a proper regard to themselves, equally called on them to discharge the duties of their station with punctuality, and to leave the management of the church and state to those to whom they immediately belonged.

It is well known that, towards the close of the reign of queen Anne, political disputes were carried to a very unusual height in this kingdom. The body of the people were divided into two great factions, known by the names of High Church and Low Church: but though the church was the word, religion was almost out of the question; and the principal object of dispute was of a political kind. The question was, whether the house of HANOVER, or the family of STUART should sway the sceptre of these kingdoms. But it is astonishing to think that, even at that period, any son of the church of England could be so deluded as to think that a Catholic prince, of an obnoxious family, proscribed by the laws of the land, could be a proper sovereign for a protestant people. The supposition carries absurdity in the face of it; yet such was the violence of the passions of the people, that the pretender had nearly half as many friends in the kingdom as the rightful heir to the throne!

With regard to the malefactors in question, their offence was of the most atrocious nature. Every man has an equal right to worship God according to the dictates of his own conscience. It was therefore in a high degree criminal to demolish the meeting-houses of the dissenting ministers. We should have no more spleen against a man for differing from us in religious sentiments, than for being taller, or shorter, or of a different complexion from ourselves. It was a wise saying of a celebrated writer, that 'I would no more quarrel with a man for his differing in sentiments from me, than I would for the colour of his eye-brows.'

The operations of the mind, being free by nature, ought to be allowed the most unlimited scope. A good protestant will not quarrel with a Roman Catholic for the peculiarities of his worship: he will only pity him for those parts of it which he thinks absurd, and endeavour to regulate his own worship by what he deems a purer standard.

Upon the whole, the fate of these malefactors ought to teach us obedience to our superiors, love to our neighbours, and duty to our God. There can be no peace of mind expected by those who do not live in the discharge of their duty; while those who perform it may reasonably hope for the serene comforts of a good conscience in this world, and console themselves with the hope of immortal happiness in the next.

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1711

3: Jack Addison

Committed fifty-six Highway Robberies, and was executed at Tyburn in

March, 1711

THIS fellow was born in the parish of Lambeth, and for some time had been in the sea and land service, but for the most part of his life followed the trade of a butcher. He kept company much with ill  women, especially one Kate Speed, and for the maintenance of her he went upon the footpad, committing several most notorious robberies of that nature with William Jewel and Peter Cartwright, the latter of whom was hanged at Tyburn, on Wednesday, the 18th of July, 1711.

One time, meeting with a parson between Westbourne Green and  Paddington, he took from him five guineas, which putting into his own pocket, quoth Jack:

"'Tis as safe there as in yours."

"That I believe," replied the parson; "but I hope, sir, you'll be so civil as to give me some of it back again."

Said Jack then: "Alas, sir, I wonder how a man in your coat can be so unconscionable as to desire anything out of this small matter; but I tell you what, sir; if you can tell me what part of speech your gold is, I'll return it all again."

The parson, thinking the money was his own again, told him it was a noun substantive, as anything was to which he could put "a" or "the."

"No, no," replied Jack, "you are out now; I perceive you are no good grammarian, for where your gold is at present it is a noun adjective, because it can be neither seen, felt, heard nor understood."

So, leaving the parson to ruminate on his mistake, away Jack went about his unlawful business again.  A little while after this, meeting on the road betwixt Hammersmith and Kensington with one Palmer, a victualler, who formerly kept the King's Head ale-house, in King's Head Court, in Drury Lane, he took from him a silver watch and eighteen shillings; and Mr Palmer desiring Jack togive him some small matter to bear his charges up to London, quoth he:

"Had you been an honest tradesman, perhaps I might have considered you; but as I know you wear a blue flag, I will not give you a farthing, because all of your profession neither eat, drink nor think but at other men's charges."

Afterwards meeting betwixt Hampstead and Kentish Town with a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, and taking from him a gold watch, a silver snuff box and two guineas, quoth he to Jack:

"I'd have you take care what you do, for I am a lawyer; and if you should come into my hands I should be very severe upon you."

Addison replied: "I value not the severity of all the lawyers in England, who only learn to frame their cases from public riddles and imitating Merlin's prophecies, and so set all the Cross Row together by the ears; yet your whole law is not able to decide Lucian's old controversy betwixt Tau and Sigma."

So binding the lawyer hand and foot, he left him to plead his cause by himself.

Not long after this exploit, Jack, meeting a serjeant of the Poultry Compter coming from Islington, commanded him to stand and deliver, or else he would shoot him through the head. The fellow being surprised gave him forty shillings, desiring at the same time that he would be so civil as to return him what he pleased back again. But Jack knowing his rascally function, quoth:

"Sirrah, was the tenth part of a farthing to save your life, nay, your soul, I would not give it, because thou art the spawn of a broken shopkeeper, who takes delight in the ruin of thy fellow-creatures! The misery of a poor man is the offal on which you feed, and money is the crust you leap at; your walks in term time are up Fleet Street, but at the end of the term up Holborn and so to Tyburn, for the gallows is your purlieu, in which you and the hangman are quarter rangers; the one turns off, and the other cuts down."

At these words, quoth the serjeant: "And I hope I shall have the happiness of cutting you down too one of these days."

"Perhaps so," replied Jack, "but you shall devour a great many more of the sheriff's custards first."

So tying him neck and heels, he bound the serjeant to his good behaviour, till some passengers came by to release him.  He had committed fifty-six robberies thus on foot, and at last being apprehended, upon the information of one Will Jewel, a prisoner in the Marshalsea Prison, in Southwark, for robbing his Excellency the Duke d'Aumont, the French Ambassador here, he was committed to Newgate, and tried at Justice Hall, in the Old Bailey, for assaulting and robbing on the queen's highway Mr Matthew Beazly, Mr William Winslow, Mr Disney Stanniford, Mr Robert Sherwood and Mr Joseph Ashton, on the 30th of November and 20th of December, 1710, and the 6th of February, 1711; for which, being cast and condemned, he was hanged at Tyburn, on Friday, the 2nd of March following, aged twenty-three years.

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4: 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 ―he 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.

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5: 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 considerable 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.

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6: 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.

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1712

7: 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.

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8: 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.'

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9: 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.'

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10: 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.

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11: 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.

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1713

12: 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.

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13: 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.

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14: 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.

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15: 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 reputable 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.

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16: 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

For a piece of green flowered brocade, containing 23 yards, at £1.9s. 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 £4.15s. 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 £1:― £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 £116

Sum total £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.

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17: 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.

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18: 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.

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19: 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.

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1714

20: 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.

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21: 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.

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22: 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.

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23: 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.]

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24: William Johnson and Jane Housden

Executed in September, 1714, for the Murder of a Turnkey in the Court at the Old Bailey

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.

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25: 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.

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1715

26: 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.

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27: 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 was 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 appetite, 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.

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28: 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.

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1716

29: 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

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30: 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.

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31: 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.

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32: 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."

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33: 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.

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34: 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.

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35: 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."

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36: John Hamilton, Esq.

Tried in Scotland for Murder, and beheaded by the Maiden, 30th of June, 1716

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!

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1717

37: 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.

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1718

38: The Marquis de Paleotti

An Italian Nobleman, executed at Tyburn for the Murder of his Servant, 17th of March, 1718.

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?

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39: 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.

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40: 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.

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41: 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

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."

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42: 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 themselves 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.

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1719

43: 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 appened: 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!

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44: 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.

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45: 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.

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46: 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.

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1720

47: 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 £20 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.

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1721

48: 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, strugglingto 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.

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49: Matthew Clarke

Executed for murder, 28th July, 1721

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 theroad.

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.'

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50: 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.

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51: 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.

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52: 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.

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53: 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.

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1722

54: 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 hamstringing, 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.

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55: 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

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!

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56: John Hawkins and James Simpson

Highwaymen and Mail Robbers. Executed at Tyburn on the 21st of May, 1722

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.

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57: 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.

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58: 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.

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59: 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.

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60: 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.

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61: Matthias Brinsden

Executed for killing 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.

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62: 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.

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1723

63: William Spiggot And Thomas Phillips

Who suffered the Torture for refusing to plead. Executed at Tyburn, 23rd of February, 1723, for Robbery

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."

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64: 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.

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65: 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.

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66: 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 w omen 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 Horseferry, 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.

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67: 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.

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68: Sarah Priddon, alias Sally Salisbury

Convicted of 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 he 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.

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69: 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 £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 £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 £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 £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 £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.

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70: 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.

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71: 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!

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72: 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 drank so 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.

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73: Philip Roche

Executed on 5th of August, 1723, for many Murders on the High Seas and Piracy

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.

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74: 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.

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75: Humphry Angier

Executed at Tyburn, September 9, 1723, for Robbery.

HUMPHRY ANGER 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."

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76: 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 ith 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.

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77: 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.

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1724

78: 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.

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79: 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

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80: 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

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 bad 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.

"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."

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81: 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 meantime 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:―

1. That besides the appeal, to which he now pleaded, there was another yet depending, and undetermined.

2. A misnomer, because his name was not Lewis but Louis.

3. That the addition of labourer was wrong, for he was not a labourer, but, a barber-surgeon.

4. That there were no such persons as John Doe and Richard Roe, who were mentioned as pledges in the appeal.

5. 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

6. 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.

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1725

82: 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.

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83: 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.

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84: 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.

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85: Jonathan Wild

Director of a Corporation of Thieves, and a most famous Receiver. Executed at Tyburn, 24th of May, 1725

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, he 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. He made a great parade in his business, and assumed a consequence which enabled him more effectually to impose upon the public. When persons came to his office, they were informed that they must each pay a crown in consideration of receiving his advice. This ceremony being 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.

hrough 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 into 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 £100 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 £10. 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 £40 or £50 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 £40.0. 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 £100 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 (£30) 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 willbe 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 coming on 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. Dun 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."

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 Dulwich; 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, 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 £700 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:

1. That for many years he had been a confederate with great numbers of highwaymen, pickpockets, housebreakers, shop-lifters, and other thieves.

2. 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.

3. 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.

4. 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.

5. 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.

6. 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.

7. 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.

8. 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.

9. 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.

10.  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.

11. 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 with, 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 £50.

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. He continued sitting some time in the cart; but the populace were at length so enraged at the indulgence shown him, that they outrageously called to the executioner to perform the duties of his office, violently threatening him with instant death if he presumed any longer to delay. He judged it prudent to comply with their demands, and when he began to prepare for the execution the popular clamour ceased.

About two o'clock on the following morning the remains of Wild were interred in St. Pancras Churchyard; but a few nights afterwards the body was taken up (for the use of the surgeons, as it was supposed). At midnight a hearse and six was waiting at the end of Fig Lane, where the coffin was found the next day.

Wild had by the woman he married at Wolverhampton a son about nineteen years old, who came to London a short time before the execution of his father. He was a youth of so violent and ungovernable a disposition, that it was judged 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.

Continued in Vol 4

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