THE NEWGATE CALENDER TO 1799

Vol 3

Contents

1767

1: Samuel Orton; 2: John Williamson; 3: Elizabeth Brownrigg; 4: William Guest

1768

5: John Power, alias Winn; 6: James Sampson; 7: Frederic Lord Baltimore, Elizabeth Griffenburg, and Anne Harvey; 8: John Wilkes, Esq., M.P.; 9: James Gibson; 10: William Hawkins and Joseph Wild; 11: Sarah Metyard and Sarah Morgan Metyard, her Daughter; 12: Elizabeth Richardson

1769

12: William Taunton; 13: Mr Baretti

1770

14: James Attaway and Richard Bailey; 15: Peter Conway and Michael Richardson

1771

16: Captain David Ferguson; 17: Peter M'Cloud; 18: John Eyre, Esq.; 19: Dr Levi Weil, Asher Weil, Jacob Lazarus and Solomon Porter

1772

20: Henry Jones, Francis Phoenix and Charles Burton; 21: James Bolland; 22: Jonathan Britain; 23: John Adshead And Benjamin Alsworth; 24: Samuel Roberts and Thomas Bacchus

1773

25: William Griffiths; 26: George Barrington 27: John Lennard; 28: William Field alias Green; 29: William Cox; 30: Elizabeth Harriet Greeve;

1774

31: John Rann

1775

32: Amos Merritt: 33: John Bolton; 34: Lambert Reading; 35: Jane Butterfield

1776

36: Thomas Aikney and Elizabeth Broadingham; 37: Daniel And Robert Perreau; 38: Margaret Caroline Rudd

1777

39: Peter Le Maitre; 40: James Hill; 41: Joseph Armstrong; 42: David Brown Dignum; 43: Ann Marrow; 44: Dr William Dodd; 45: John Harrison; 46: Francis Mercier otherwise Louis de Butte; 47: John Holmes and Peter Williams; 48: The Reverend Benjamin Russen

1778

49: James Elliot; 50: John Pierce, Vincent Pierce and Elizabeth Luker; 51: George Roach, Robert Elliot and Jonas Parker; 52: Alexander Scott; 54: Francis Lewis otherwise Grimison; 55: Mary Knight; 56: Joseph Relph;

1779

56: James Donally; 57: Morgan Phillips; 58: The Rev. James Hackman; 59: James Mathison

1780

60: Elizabeth Butchill; 61: A. Durnford and W. Newton; 62: Lord George Gordon

1781

63: John Donellan, Esq; 64: Francis Henry de La Motte

1783

65: William Wynne Ryland

1785

66: Richard Carpenter

1786

67: Charles Price; 68: Michael Walker, Richard Payne and Robert Cox; 69: John Elliot, M.D.

1787

70: Henry Sterne

1789

71: Thomas Denton; 72: Thomas Gordon; 73: Thomas Phipps, Esq., And Thomas Phipps, His Son; 74: William Ward

1790

75: Samuel Hinchcliffe; 76: John Dyer; 77: Edward Lowe and William Jobbins

78: Renwick Williams

1791

79: John Belville; 80: William Gadesby; 81: Bartholomew Quailn; 82: Joseph Wood and Thomas Underwood

1792

83: Nathaniel Lilley, James Martin, Mary Briant, William Allen, And John Butcher; 84: Joseph Lorrison

1793

85: The Rev. Richard Burgh, John Cummings, Esq., Captain in the Army, Townley M'can, Esq., Student of Law, James Davis and John Bourne;

86: The Rev. Mr Jackson; 87: Laurence Jones

1794

88: Elizabeth Marsh; 89: Henry Goodiff; 90: Anne Broadric

1795

91: Lewis Jeremiah Avershaw

1796

92: Kid Wake; 93: Richard Parker; 94: William Lee; 95: Henry Weston; 96: Charles Scoldwell; 97: John Clarke; 98: Joseph Hodges and Richard Probin; 99: Sarah Penelope Stanley

1797

100: James M'Kean; 101: Martin Clench And James Mackley; 102: Rebecca Howard;  103: Theresa Phipoe

1798

104: George Waldron, alias Barrington; 105: Robert Ladbroke Troyt

1799

106: James Turnbull; 107: Margaret Hughes;

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1767

1: Samuel Orton

Clerk to the Court of Requests, executed 14th of January,1767, for forging Two Letters of Attorney, in the Name of Captain Bishop, by means of which he received One Thousand Pounds from the Bank of England

SAMUEL ORTON was a native of London. While he was in a state of infancy his father died, leaving Mrs Orton in possession of a handsome fortune. She was a Protestant dissenter, and placed her son under the care of a dissenting minister, at whose academy he made some progress in several branches of learning.

The young man discovered a very strong inclination for trade, and he was therefore apprenticed to a reputable dealer in London, to whom he proved a faithful and industrious servant. Upon the expiration of his apprenticeship he purchased the place of Clerk to the Court of Requests, in the borough of Southwark, which produced an income of about three hundred pounds a year.

He soon afterwards embarked in the wine trade, which he successfully pursued some years; and, being generally considered as a man of large property, many persons, who supported their credit by the circulation of notes of hand and bills of exchange, applied for his endorsements, knowing that his name would give their paper currency, and he was so imprudent as to make himself liable to the payment of fourteen hundred pounds.

The persons with whom Mr Orton had engaged in such imprudent connections being declared bankrupts, he became answerable to the holders of the notes. Having debts of his own to the amount of nine hundred pounds, and the notes for fourteen hundred to discharge within a fortnight, he formed the resolution of committing forgery.

A friendship had long subsisted between Mr Orton and Captain Bishop, who, upon leaving England, had entrusted him with a letter of attorney, authorising him to receive his pay and dividend of bank stock.

He forged two letters of attorney, by means of which he received a thousand pounds at the bank. It must be observed that his intention was not ultimately to defraud the Captain, but merely to support his credit till remittances from his correspondents should enable him to replace the money; and he flattered himself in the opinion that if, through disappointments, he should be unable to restore the property before the Captain's return, he would readily excuse his conduct.

Captain Bishop, being at Portsmouth in August, 1766, wrote to Mr Orton, mentioning that his ship was coming round to Woolwich, and that he was desirous of an interview as soon as possible after his arrival. Orton wrote the Captain word that he would certainly meet him at Woolwich, and, having some business to negotiate at Yarmouth, he set out on horseback for that place.

On his return to London he left his horse at an inn near Charing Cross and went into St James's Park, where he accidentally met Captain Bishop, whose ship had arrived at Woolwich on the preceding day. They supped together at the Belle Sauvage, on Ludgate Hill; and the next day Mr Orton dined with the Captain on board his ship, at Woolwich.

Before leaving Woolwich, Mr Orton intended to inform the Captain of his conduct with regard to the money he had received at the bank, but he declined introducing the subject upon learning that the Captain meant to remain at Woolwich till his ship was cleared, which he expected would be in not less than a week.

Mr Orton now went a second time to Yarmouth, and, on his return in four days, found a letter at his house from Captain Bishop, signifying that, having received his pay, he had more money by him than he had occasion for, and therefore desired Mr Orton to meet him at the Belle Sauvage and receive a sum in order to dispose of it in such a manner as he should judge would prove most advantageous. They met according to appointment, and Mr Orton was about to mention the forged letters of attorney when the Captain said he was under the necessity of immediately attending Admiral Knowles; and they parted with every appearance of friendship, mutually promising to meet the following evening.

The next night he had not been in the house where he had appointed to meet Captain Bishop more than half-an-hour when he was arrested for two hundred pounds at the suit of the Captain, and immediately conducted to a spunging-house. He was the next day examined in the presence of some of the directors of the bank, and committed to Newgate in order for trial.

The violent agitation of spirits which this unfortunate man experienced when he was charged with the commission of forgery will not admit of description. Being brought to trial, his guilt was proved by indisputable evidence; and he was sentenced to be executed.

While he remained in Newgate his behaviour was perfectly consistent with his unhappy circumstances. He was conveyed to the place of execution in a mourning-coach; and, after he had employed some time in devout prayer, the sentence of the law was put in force, and his body was delivered to his friends. Samuel Orton was executed at Tyburn, on the 14th of January, 1767.

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2: John Williamson

A deliberate and cruel Murderer, who tortured and starved his Wife to Death. Executed in Moorfields, 19th of January, 1767

WILLIAMSON was the son of people in but indifferent circumstances, who put him apprentice to a shoemaker. When he came to be a journeyman he pursued his business with industry, and in a short time he married an honest and sober woman, by whom he had three children. His wife dying, he continued some time a widower, maintaining himself and his children in a decent manner.

At length he contracted an acquaintance with a young woman so deficient in point of intellect that it may be said she bordered upon idiocy. Her relations had bequeathed her money sufficient for her maintenance, and this circumstance induced Williamson to make proposals of marriage, which she accepted. Being asked in church, the banns were forbidden by the gentleman appointed guardian to the unhappy woman.

Williamson having procured a licence, the marriage was solemnised; and in consequence thereof he received the money that was in the hands of the guardian. About three weeks after the marriage he cruelly beat his wife, threw water over her, and otherwise treated her with great severity; and this kind of brutality he frequently repeated. At length he fastened the miserable creature's hands behind her with handcuffs, and, by means of a rope passed through a staple, drew them so tight above her head that only the tips of her toes touched the ground.

On one side of the closet wherein she was confined was now and then put a small piece of bread-and-butter, so that she could just touch it with her mouth; and she was allowed daily a small portion of water.

She once remained a whole month without being released from this miserable condition; but during that time she occasionally received assistance from a female lodger in the house and a little girl, Williamson's daughter by his former wife.

The girl having once released the poor sufferer, the inhuman villain beat her with great severity. When the father was abroad the child frequently gave the unhappy woman a stool to stand upon, by which means her pain was in some degree abated. This circumstance being discovered by Williamson, he beat the girl in a most barbarous manner, and threatened that if she again offended in the same way he would punish her with still greater severity.

Williamson released his wife on the Sunday preceding the day on which she died, and at dinner-time cut her some meat, of which, however, she ate only a very small quantity. This partial indulgence he supposed would prove a favourable circumstance for him, in case of being accused of murder.

Her hands being greatly swelled, through the coldness of the weather and the pain occasioned by the handcuffs, she begged to be permitted to go near the fire, and, the daughter joining in her request, Williamson complied. When she had sat a few minutes, Williamson, observing her throwing the vermin that swarmed upon her clothes into the fire, ordered her to "return to her kennel." Thereupon she returned to the closet, the door of which was then locked till next day, when she was found to be in a delirious state, in which she continued till the time of her death, which happened about two o'clock on the Tuesday morning.

The coroner's jury being summoned to sit on the body, and evidence being adduced to incriminate Williamson, he was committed to Newgate. At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey he was brought to trial before Lord Chief Baron Parker, and sentenced to death. From the time of his commitment to prison till the time of his execution he behaved in a very decent and penitent manner. The gallows was placed on the rising ground opposite Chiswell Street, in Moorfields. After he had sung a psalm and prayed some time, with an appearance of great devotion, he was turned off, amidst an amazing concourse of people. His body was conveyed to Surgeons' Hall for dissection, and his children were placed in Cripplegate Workhouse.

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3: Elizabeth Brownrigg

Executed at Tyburn, 14th of September, 1767, for torturing her

Female Apprentices to Death

THE long and excruciating torture in which this inhuman woman kept the innocent object of her remorseless cruelty, before she finished the long-premeditated murder, more engaged the attention and roused the indignation of all ranks, than any criminal in the whole course of our melancholy narratives.

Elizabeth Brownrigg was married to James Brownrigg, a plumber, who, after being seven years in Greenwich, came to London and took a house in Flower-de-Luce Court, Fleet Street, where he carried on a considerable share of business, and had a little house at Islington for an occasional retreat.

She had been the mother of sixteen children, and, having practised midwifery, was appointed by the overseers of the poor of St Dunstan's parish to take care of the poor women in the workhouse; which duty she performed to the entire satisfaction of her employers.

Mary Mitchell, a poor girl, of the precinct of Whitefriars, was put apprentice to Mrs Brownrigg in the year 1765; and at about the same time Mary Jones, one of the children of the Foundling Hospital, was likewise placed with her in the same capacity; and she had other apprentices. As Mrs Brownrigg received pregnant women to lie-in privately, these girls were taken with a view of saving the expense of women-servants. At first the poor orphans were treated with some degree of civility; but this was soon changed for the most savage barbarity. Having laid Mary Jones across two chairs in the kitchen, she whipped her with such wanton cruelty that she was occasionally obliged to desist through mere weariness. This treatment was frequently repeated; and Mrs Brownrigg used to throw water on her when she had done whipping her, and sometimes she would dip her head into a pail of water. The room appointed for the girl to sleep in adjoined the passage leading to the street door, and, as she had received many wounds on her head, shoulders and various parts of her body, she determined not to bear such treatment any longer if she could effect her escape.

Observing that the key was left in the street door when the family went to bed, she opened the door cautiously one morning and escaped into the street. Thus freed from her horrid confinement, she repeatedly inquired her way to the Foundling Hospital till she found it, and was admitted, after describing in what manner she had been treated, and showing the bruises she had received. The child having been examined by a surgeon, who found her wounds to be of a most alarming nature, the governors of the hospital ordered Mr Plumbtree, their solicitor, to write to James Brownrigg, threatening a prosecution if he did not give a proper reason for the severities exercised towards the child.

No notice of this having been taken, and the governors of the hospital thinking it imprudent to indict at common law, the girl was discharged, in consequence of an application to the Chamberlain of London. The other girl, Mary Mitchell, continued with her mistress for the space of a year, during which she was treated with equal cruelty, and she also resolved to quit her service. Having escaped out of the house, she was met in the street by the younger son of Brownrigg, who forced her to return home, where her sufferings were greatly aggravated on account of her elopement. In the interim the overseers of the precinct of Whitefriars bound Mary Clifford to Brownrigg; it was not long before she experienced similar cruelties to those inflicted on the other poor girls, and possibly still more severe. She was frequently tied up naked and beaten with a hearth broom, a horsewhip or a cane till she was absolutely speechless. This poor girl having a natural infirmity, the mistress would not permit her to lie in a bed, but placed her on a mat in a coal-hole that was remarkably cold; however, after some time, a sack and a quantity of straw formed her bed, instead of the mat. During her confinement in this wretched situation she had nothing to subsist on but bread and water; and her covering, during the night, consisted only of her own clothes, so that she sometimes lay almost perished with cold.

On a particular occasion, when she was almost starving with hunger, she broke open a cupboard in search of food, but found it empty; and on another occasion she broke down some boards, in order to procure a draught of water. Though she was thus pressed for the humblest necessaries of life, Mrs Brownrigg determined to punish her with rigour for the means she had taken to supply herself with them. On this she caused the girl to strip to the skin, and during the course of a whole day, while she remained naked, she repeatedly beat her with the butt-end of a whip.

In the course of this most inhuman treatment a jack-chain was fixed round her neck, the end of which was fastened to the yard door, and then it was pulled as tight as possible without strangling her. A day being passed in the practice of these savage barbarities, the girl was remanded to the coal-hole at night, her hands being tied behind her, and the chain still remaining about her neck.

The husband being obliged to find his wife's apprentices in wearing apparel, they were repeatedly stripped naked, and kept so for whole days, if their garments happened to be torn. Sometimes Mrs Brownrigg, when resolved on uncommon severity, used to tie their hands with a cord and draw them up to a water-pipe which ran across the ceiling in the kitchen; but that giving way, she desired her husband to fix a hook in the beam, through which a cord was drawn, and, their arms being extended, she used to horsewhip them till she was weary, and till the blood flowed at every stroke.

The elder son one day directed Mary Clifford to put up a half-tester bedstead, but the poor girl was unable to do it; on which he beat her till she could no longer support his severity; and at another time, when the mother had been whipping her in the kitchen till she was absolutely tired, the son renewed the savage treatment. Mrs Brownrigg would sometimes seize the poor girl by the cheeks and, forcing the skin down violently with her fingers cause the blood to gush from her eyes.

Mary Clifford, unable to bear these repeated severities, complained of her hard treatment to a French lady who lodged in the house; and she having represented the impropriety of such behaviour to Mrs Brownrigg, the inhuman monster flew at the girl and cut her tongue in two places with a pair of scissors.

On the morning of the 13th of July this barbarous woman went into the kitchen and, after obliging Mary Clifford to strip to the skin, drew her up to the staple; and though her body was an entire sore, from former bruises, yet this wretch renewed her cruelties with her accustomed severity.

After whipping her till the blood streamed down her body she let her down, and made her wash herself in a tub of cold water, Mary Mitchell, the other poor girl, being present during this transaction. While Clifford was washing herself Mrs Brownrigg struck her on the shoulders, already sore with former bruises, with the butt-end of a whip; and she treated the child in this manner five times in the same day.

The poor girl's wounds now began to shew evident signs of mortification; and it is probable that she might have been privately buried, and the murderess escaped detection, but for the following circumstance. Mary Clifford's mother-in-law, who had resided some time in the country, came to town, and enquired after the child; and being informed that she was placed at Brownrigg's, she went thither, but was refused admittance by Mr Brownrigg, who even threatened to carry her before the lord-mayor if she came there to make farther disturbances.

Hereupon the mother-in-law was going away, when Mrs Deacon, wife of Mr Deacon, baker at the adjoining house, called her in, and informed her that she and her family had often heard moanings and groans issue from Brownrigg's house, and that she suspected the apprentices were treated with unwarrantable severity. Mrs Deacon likewise promised to exert herself to come at the truth of the affair.

At this juncture Mr Brownrigg, going to Hampstead on business, bought a hog, which he sent home. This hog was put into a covered yard, to which there was a sky-light, which it was thought necessary to remove, in order to give air to the animal.

As soon as it was known that the sky-light was removed, Mr Deacon ordered his servants to watch, in order, if possible, to discover the girls. Deacon's servant-maid, looking from a window, saw one of the girls stooping down; on which she called her mistress, and she desired the attendance of some of the neighbours, who, having been witnesses of the shocking scene, some men got upon the leads, and dropped bits of dirt, to induce the girl to speak to them; but she seemed wholly incapable.

Hereupon Mrs Deacon sent to the girl's mother-in-law, who going to the overseers who had placed out the child, they called on Mr Grundy, one of the overseers of St Dunstan's, and all of them going together, they demanded a sight of Mary Clifford: but Brownrigg, who had nicknamed her Nan, told them that he knew no such person, but if they wanted to see Mary (meaning Mary Mitchell), they might; and accordingly produced her.

Mr Deacon's servant now declared that Mary Mitchell was not the girl who had been seen in the shocking situation abovementioned; on which Mr Grundy sent for a constable, to search the house, which was done; but no discovery was then made.

Mr Brownrigg threatened highly; but Mr Grundy, with the spirit that became the officer of a parish, took Mary Mitchell with him to the workhouse, where, on the taking off her leathern-boddice, it stuck so fast to her wounds, that she shrieked with the pain: but, on being treated with great humanity, and told that she should not be sent back to Brownrigg's, she gave an account of the horrid treatment that she and Mary Clifford had sustained; and confessed that she had met the latter on the stairs just before they came to the house.

On this Mr Grundy and some others returned to the house, to make a stricter search; on which Brownrigg sent for a lawyer, in order to intimidate them, and even threatened a prosecution, unless they immediately quitted the house.

Unterrified by these threats, Mr Grundy sent for a coach to carry Brownrigg to the compter; on which the latter promised to produce the girl in half an hour, if the coach was discharged. This being consented to, the girl was produced from a cupboard, under a beauset in the dining-room, after a pair of shoes, which young Brownrigg had in his hand during the proposal, had been put upon her.

It is not in language to describe the miserable appearance this poor girl made: almost her whole body was ulcerated. Being taken to the workhouse, an apothecary was sent for, who pronounced her to be in danger.

Brownrigg was conveyed to Wood Street Compter; but his wife and son made their escape, taking with them a gold watch and some money. Mr Brownrigg was carried before Alderman Crossby, who committed him, and ordered the girls to be taken to St Bartholomew's Hospital, where Mary Clifford died within a few days. The coroner's inquest was summoned, and found a verdict of wilful murder against James and Elizabeth Brownrigg, and John, their son.

In the meantime Mrs Brownrigg and her son shifted from place to place in London, bought clothes in Rag Fair to disguise themselves, and then went to Wandsworth, where they took lodgings in the house of Mr Dunbar, who kept a chandler's shop.

This chandler, happening to read a newspaper on the 15th of August, saw an advertisement which so clearly described his lodgers that he had no doubt but they were the murderers. A constable went to the house, and the mother and son were conveyed to London. At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey the father, mother and son were indicted, when Elizabeth Brownrigg, after a trial of eleven hours, was found guilty of murder, and ordered for execution; but the man and his son, being acquitted of the higher charge, were detained, to take their trials for a misdemeanour, of which they were convicted, and imprisoned for the space of six months.

After sentence of death was passed on Mrs Brownrigg, she was attended by a clergyman, to whom she confessed the enormity of her crime) and acknowledged the justice of the sentence by which she had been condemned.

The parting between her and her husband and son, on the morning of her, execution, was affecting beyond description. The son falling on his knees, she bent herself to him, and embraced him. The husband was kneeling on the other side; she also kneeled down, and, having besought the Almighty to have mercy on her soul, said 'Dear James, I beg that God, for Christ's sake, will be reconciled, and that he will not leave me, nor forsake me, in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment.'

On her way to the place of execution the people expressed their abhorrence of her crime in terms which, though not proper for the occasion, testified their astonishment that such a wretch could have existed: they even prayed for her damnation instead of her salvation: they doubted not but that 'the devil would fetch her,' and hoped that 'she would go to hell.' Such were the sentiments of the mob.

At the place of execution this miserable woman joined in prayers with the ordinary of Newgate, whom she desired to declare to the multitude, that she confessed her guilt, and acknowledged the justice of her sentence.

After execution her body was put into a hackney-coach, conveyed to Surgeons' Hall, dissected and anatomised; and her skeleton was hung up in Surgeons' Hall.

What is it possible to say on this subject that will not have occurred to every reader of feeling and humanity? This more than common murder -- this murder by inches, has something so shocking in its nature, something so infernal in its progress, that there is no language in which to express our abhorrence of it.

That Mrs Brownrigg, a midwife by profession, and herself the mother of many children, should wantonly murder the children of other women, is truly astonishing, and can only be accounted for by that depravity of human nature, which philosophers have always disputed, but which true christians will be ready to allow.

Let her crimes be buried, though her skeleton be exposed; and may no one hereafter be found hardy enough to copy those crimes!

Women who have the care of children from parish workhouses, or hospitals, should consider themselves at once as mistresses and as mothers; nor ever permit the strictness of the former character to preponderate over the humanity of the latter.

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4: William Guest

Executed at Tyburn, 14th of October, 1767, for High Treason, in diminishing the Current Coin of the Realm

THIS man's crime was aggravated by a breach of public trust. He was the son of a clergyman of unblemished character, of the city of Worcester, who placed him apprentice to a genteel business.

He then came to London and took a shop in Holborn, where he carried on business for some years, with the usual success of trade. His father's good name assisted him in procuring a clerkship in the Bank of England, and there the constant handling of gold shook his integrity. He took a house in Broad Street Buildings, in a room in the upper part of which he used to work. Having procured a curious machine for milling guineas, not unlike a machine made use of by mathematical-instrument makers, he used to take guineas from his drawer at the bank, file them, and then return them to the bank and take out guineas of full weight in their stead. Of their filings he made ingots, which he sold to an assayer, who, on his trial, deposed that the filings were of the same standard as our guineas.

The cashier of the bank, having his suspicions aroused, sent Mr Sewallis and Mr Humberton, servants of the bank, with proper officers to search Mr Guest's house in Broad Street Buildings. In a room up two pair of stairs there stood a mahogany nest of drawers, in which, on being broken open, were found a vice, files, and an instrument proper for milling the edges of guineas.

Mr Throughton, a jeweller, deposed he had sold two bars of gold for the prisoner, one of which weighed forty-six and the other forty-eight ounces.

The circumstances above mentioned were deemed to adduce such evidence of guilt that the jury did not hesitate to convict Mr Guest; the consequence of which was, that sentence of death was passed on him.

After conviction this malefactor made the most serious preparations for the awful change that awaited him. Consistent with the plan respecting persons convicted of high treason, he was conveyed to the place of execution on a sledge. His dress consisted of a suit of mourning and a club-wig. At Tyburn, the place of execution, he appeared to exhibit every mark of penitence and resignation. He prayed devoutly, and when he was turned off, and his body had hung the accustomed time, it was delivered to his friends to be buried.

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1768

5: John Power, alias Winn

Pirate, hanged at Execution Dock, 10th March, 1768

THIS malefactor was a native of the West of England, and very early engaged in a seafaring life, serving on board a ship which sailed to the coast of Guinea on the slave-trade. This trade, of all others, is the most obnoxious to the feelings of humanity, the most contrary to the doctrines of Christianity; and it is astonishing that any man can call himself a Christian, yet professedly barter away the lives and liberties of his fellow-creatures!

Captain Fox had the command of the vessel, and, while he was on shore on the African coast, Power and several other seamen determined to seize the ship, and to take her to sea on their own account.

This resolution being formed, they swore fidelity to each other; and, giving the name of 'Bravo' to the ship (which had been called the Polly), they sailed for the West Indies, the command being given to Power, who now assumed the title of captain.

The mate of the ship exerted his utmost influence to prevail on Power to let the real captain come on hoard before he sailed, and to return to his own duty; but all the return that the mate experienced for this good advice was the ball of a pistol lodged in his shoulder: Power likewise discharged a ball through the cheek of a sailor, and wounded a second who refused to submit to his imperious commands.

Thus by violence becoming master of the vessel, he proceeded on his voyage with a lading of negro slaves; but among the other parties on board was a free negro, who had remained as a hostage for two of his country men; and this man was employed in splitting wood for firing.

This free negro frequently conversing with the slaves, the pirates conceived that they were concerting plans to regain their liberty; for guilt is ever suspicious.

One Robert Fitzgerald, aft Irishman, was the first who observed the free negro talking to the slaves; and hinting his suspicions to Power, and telling him to be on his guard, the latter, who was a fellow of the most unfeeling disposition, caused the poor man to be tied to the side of the ship, where he whipped him some minutes with a cat-o'-nine-tails with such severity, that his body streamed with blood, and his bones in some places were visible.

After this severe chastisement for no real offence Power took a cutlass from the hands of one of the sailors; but, not thinking it sharp enough to answer his horrid purpose, be directed that another should be brought him, with which he cut the poor negro in several places. Not contented with exercising this unprovoked severity, he directed Fitzgerald to cut him again, and the barbarous villain even exceeded his commission. Another of the sailors, named Potts, likewise cut him in two or three places; and at length Fitzgerald completed the murder by cutting off his bead, and throwing that, with the body, into the sea; though he had no order from Power for carrying the affair to such extremity.

The horrid murder being thus committed, they continued their voyage for the West Indies, where they offered the negro slaves for sale; but, a suspicion arising of some illicit practices, they thought it prudent to depart; and, steering their course for North America, they came to anchor in the harbour of New York, where most of them thought it prudent to consult their safety in flight; but the surgeon of the ship (who had been obliged to dissemble his inclinations, to save his life) gave information against the murderers, some of whom were taken into custody.

Fitzgerald had made his escape; but Power, and a seaman named Tomlin, were sent to England, where they were brought to trial; when the latter was acquitted from a variety of circumstances that arose in exculpation of his crime; but Power, being convicted on the fullest evidence, was sentenced to death for the murder of the negro.

After conviction his behaviour was such as might have been expected from so hardened a wretch,― one who seemed to defy the laws of God and man, to be a wilful, a deliberate, murderer.

This malefactor was hanged at Execution Dock on the 10th of March, 1768.

After the various and repeated remarks we have made on the crimes of murder and piracy, nothing remains to be said on the present occasion but to reprobate in the severest manner the practice of engaging in the slave-trade. If a man possessed those generous feelings by which our nature is said to be distinguished, he could not be induced to engage in this infernal traffic; or, if he did engage in it, it is impossible but that his feelings must be called forth, and he would see that his life was little less than continued murder.

We are convinced that it may be, because it has been, argued, that the petty princes of Africa make a practice of selling as slaves such of their countrymen as they have obtained possession of by right of conquest; but shall this be an argument of any weight in a humane, in a Christian breast? Forbid it honour! forbid it that genuine philanthropy which claims the first possession of our hearts and gives us a distinction from the beasts that perish!

It is not reasonable to suppose that God has made any distinction between his creatures: why then should that distinction be made by man― vain, presumptuous, man―too fond of arrogating to himself something more than the attribute of the Deity!

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6: James Sampson

A treacherous and base Villain, executed at Tyburn, 11th of March, 1768, for robbing and setting fire to his Benefactor's House

EARLY in life Sampson gave proofs of an extraordinary genius for drawing, to which his friends afforded proper encouragement, and his progress in the art was exceedingly rapid. The youth's uncommon talents being mentioned to the Duke of Richmond, his Grace engaged him in his service on very liberal terms, and employed masters properly qualified to afford every possible improvement to his fine genius. Afterwards the Duke warmly recommended Sampson to the patronage of the Right Honourable General Conway, who appointed him one of the draughtsmen to the Tower.

The greatest part of his time that was not engaged in a necessary attention to the duties of his office Sampson employed in making copies of the natural curiosities in the British Museum and in the conversation of learned and ingenious men, by whom that celebrated library was frequented; and he was so highly esteemed, both by the Duke of Richmond and General Conway, that he had free access to them on all occasions. Having married an upper servant in the General's family, he appeared to live in a state of great felicity; but unfortunately he maintained an illicit intercourse with some women of debauched principles, whose extravagances involved him in many embarrassments.

Being allowed the liberty of amusing himself in the General's library, he learned that money and papers of consequence were kept there; and this tempted him to the fatal resolution of robbing his benefactor and setting fire to the house, as a means of covering up his guilt. Having concealed himself in the house, he waited till he supposed the family had retired to rest, and then entered the library, where he stole property to a considerable amount and set fire to some of the furniture.

About six in the morning the General was alarmed by the cry of "Fire!" and perceived smoke issuing from the library; but he would not permit the door to be opened till the engines arrived, lest the flames should burst out and communicate to the other parts of the building. The engines being ready to play, he directed the firemen to use their endeavours to secure a writing-table that stood in a corner of the room, several bank-notes being deposited in a drawer thereof. This table was brought out, part of it being burned, and the drawer open in which the bank-notes had been deposited. The General put all the papers he found in the drawer into his pocket.

When the confusion occasioned by the supposed accident had subsided, the General examined the papers taken out of the drawer, and missing a bank-note of five hundred pounds, and four of one hundred pounds each, concluded that the room had been fired for the purpose of concealing the robbery.

All the domestics in the house had lived many years in the General's service, and he had the firmest confidence in their fidelity; but in order to secure his property, and discover the author of the horrid fact, which he strongly suspected to have been committed by some person well acquainted with his house, he made application to the bank, where he learned that the note for five hundred pounds had been already changed for others of smaller value; and, from the description of the person who had changed it, his suspicions were fixed on Sampson.

It was now determined that Mr Camp, who had received the note, and Mr Lambert, who had delivered the smaller ones on Camp's ticket, should attend at the Duke of Richmond's house at an appointed hour.

The Duke sent a servant to Sampson's lodgings, desiring to see him on business; and he presently attended, and entered into conversation on different subjects with his Grace and General Conway. The above-mentioned clerks of the bank were introduced, and, immediately recognising the person of Sampson, a signal was made that had been before agreed on; in consequence of which the General accused Sampson of the robbery and setting fire to the library. For some time he steadily denied the charge, but, finding no possibility of confuting the evidence of Camp and Lambert, he at length confessed all the particulars of his guilt.

Sampson's lodgings at Pimlico were searched, and the two notes received at the bank and the four stolen from the drawer of  the writing-table were found. The delinquent, being taken before Sir John Fielding, was committed to Newgate in order for trial, which came on at the following sessions at the Old Bailey, when he was convicted, and sentenced to be hanged.

While he remained in Newgate he regularly attended prayers in the chapel, and on the morning of his execution he received the Sacrament. The passage of carriages being obstructed by the pavement being broken up in Holborn, Sampson was conveyed through Smithfield, Cow Cross, Turnmill Street and the King's Road to Tyburn, where he acknowledged the justice of his sentence, and, after some time employed in prayer, suffered the punishment due to his offences, on 11th March, 1768.

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7: Frederic Lord Baltimore, Elizabeth Griffenburg, and Anne Harvey

The former tried for committing a rape on Sarah Woodcock, and the two latter as accessories before the fact, 26th March, 1768

THOUGH conviction did not follow the trials of these presumed offenders, it is our duty to state the affair as it was transmitted to the public at the time.

Frederic Lord Baltimore was the lineal descendant of Mr. Calvert, who was promoted to the degree of a peer of Ireland by King James I. from whom he received the grant of an immense tract of land in America, which has since borne the name of Maryland.

Lord Baltimore's father had a country seat at Epsom, where the object of our present notice was born, and sent for education to Eton School, where he became a great proficient in classical knowledge, and was said to have a singular taste and capacity for the learning and manners of the ancients; and his father dying before he was of age, left him in possession of a most ample fortune.

His lordship married the daughter of the Duke of Bridgewater, and was exceedingly unhappy in the nuptial connexion, owing to his unbounded attachment to women. In fact, his passion for the sex was so illiberal and so gross, that his house had the appearance of a Turkish seraglio rather than that of an Englishman of fortune; nor was it reputable for any woman of character to have entered within his walls.

Lord Baltimore, during his residence abroad, sailed from Naples to Constantinople, where he saw and admired the customs of the Turks and on his return to England, in 1766, he caused a part of his house to be taken down, and rebuilt in the form of a Turkish harem. He kept a number of women, who had rules given them by which to regulate their conduct; and he had agents, to procure him fresh faces, in different parts of the town.

Elizabeth Griffenburg, wife of Dr. Griffenburg, a native of Germany, and Anne Harvey, a woman of low education, were two of the parties employed by Lord Baltimore in his irregular designs on the sex.

In November, 1767, Mrs. Harvey told his lordship that young lady named Woodcock, who was very handsome, kept a milliner's shop on Tower Hill. Prompted by curiosity, and a still more ignoble motive, Lord Baltimore went once or twice to the shop, and purchased some trifling articles, by way of making an acquaintance. He then asked her if she would attend him to the play; but this she declined, having never been at a play in her life; and, as she had been bred up among that rigid sect of dissenters called Independents, she had been taught to consider theatrical diversions as incompatible with the duties of Christianity.

Some time afterwards Lord Baltimore went hastily into Miss Woodcock's shop, saying that be had been splashed by mud from a hackney-coach. This was noticed by the young lady, who expressed her surprise that he could be so near the coach as to see, but not avoid it. He answered, 'I was thinking of you, Miss;' but she paid no regard to this compliment, as she considered him as a neighbour, and a married man.

At length Lord Baltimore and his agents had completed the outlines of the ungenerous plan which they had determined, if possible, to carry into execution. Mrs. Harvey, going to Miss Woodcock's shop on the 14th of December, bespoke a pair of laced ruffles, which she desired might be made up against the next day, for the use of a lady, who might be a good customer if she was not disappointed, as she was fond of encouraging persons who were young in trade.

On the following day Mrs. Harvey called and paid for the ruffles, and, having given orders for some other articles, desired that they might ho brought to her house in the Curtain Road, near Holywell Mount, Shoreditch, on the succeeding day.

At the time appointed Miss Woodcock went to the house, where Mrs. Harvey received her politely, and desired her to drink tea; but as the days were short, and as she had no friend to attend her, she expressed her wish to decline the invitation. During their conversation one Isaac Isaacs, a Jew, came into the house, and, having paid his respects to Mrs. Harvey, said he was going to the play. Hereupon Mrs. Harvey said 'I was going to attend a lady with some millinery goods;' and then to Isaacs, 'This is the lady I was speaking to you of;' then again to Miss Woodcock, 'I would be glad you would go with me; the lady wants a great many things, and will be a very good customer to you.'

Isaacs now observed, that, as it was necessary for him to have a coach, he could set them both down at the lady's house. This was objected to by Miss Woodcock, on account of her dress; but this objection was overruled by Mrs. Harvey, who said that circumstance could not have any weight with the lady they were about to attend.

At this time Lord Baltimore's coach was waiting in the neighbourhood; and Isaacs, going out under the pretence of calling a coach, gave directions for drawing it to the door. This being done, the parties got into it; but Miss Woodcock did not observe whether it was a hackney-coach or not. The coachman drove at a great rate; the glasses were drawn up, and at length they arrived in the court-yard of a house, apparently that of a person of fashion. Mrs. Harvey took Miss Woodcock upstairs through a suite of rooms elegantly furnished, in one of which she saw an elderly man sitting, whom she afterwards knew to be Dr. Griffenburg, who politely desired her to repose herself, while he informed the lady of the house of her arrival.

Dr. Griffenburg had not been long absent when Lord Baltimore entered; and Miss Woodcock was much alarmed when she discovered that he was the very person who had repeatedly been at her shop; but he desired her to be appeased, saying that he was steward to the lady on whom she was come to attend. Miss Woodcock desired that she might immediately see the lady; on which Lord Baltimore said he would fetch her; and, soon afterwards bringing in Mrs. Griffenburg, said that she was the lady who had ordered the millinery goods.

Orders were now given for tea; and, when the equipage was taken from the table, Lord Baltimore brought from another room some purses, a ring, some smelling-bottles, and other articles, which he said he had purchased for Miss Woodcock. She seemed to despise the trifles, which she intimated might have pleased her well enough when a child.

As the evening advanced, she seemed importunate to depart, saying that her friends would become uneasy at her long absence; but at this time she had no idea of being forcibly detained.

To divert her from the thought of departing, Lord Baltimore took her to view several apartments in the house. On their coming into one of which, where there was a harpsichord, he proposed to play a tune on that instrument to the young lady; and, when he had so done, and she became still more anxious to depart, he insisted that she should stay to supper, and gave a private intimation to Mrs. Griffenburg to make the necessary preparations.

Mrs. Griffenburg being retired, Lord Baltimore took Miss Woodcock behind the window-curtain, and behaved to her in a manner very inconsistent with the rules of decency. On her making violent opposition to this insult, Dr. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey advanced, as if to assist his lordship; but she contested the matter with them all, and, forcing her way towards the door, declared that she would go home immediately: yet still it does not appear that she had any suspicion of sustaining the violence that was afterwards offered her.

After this, Lord Baltimore insisted on her sitting with him at supper; but her mind was too much discomposed to admit of her thinking of taking any refreshment. He offered her a glass of syllabub; but she beat it out of his hand, and ran towards the door, with an intention to have departed: but he told her it was late; that no coach was then to be procured; and at length said positively that she should not go home.

Dr. Griffenburg, with his wife and Mrs. Harvey, now endeavoured to prevail on the young lady to go to bed; but she declared that she would never sleep in that house. On this they conducted her to a room, in which they went to bed: but she continued walking about till the morning, and lamenting her unhappy situation.

Looking out of the window about eight o'clock, she observed a young woman passing, to whom she threw out her handkerchief, which was then heavy with tears. As the party did not see her, she called out 'Young woman!' on which the other made a motion as if she would fling the handkerchief within the rails.

As Miss Woodcock called to the woman, with an intention of sending her to her father, the two women now jumped out of bed, and forced her from the window, upbraiding her with what they called a rejection of her good fortune, and wishing themselves in so happy a situation.

Her reply was, that all the fortune the man possessed should not prevail on her to think of living with him on dishonourable terms; and she again demanded that liberty to which she had so just a claim.

The women now quitting the room, Lord Baltimore and Dr. Griffenburg came in soon afterwards; when the former said that he

was astonished at her outrageous behaviour, as he had promised that she should go home at twelve o'clock. She replied that she would go home directly, as her sister, and particularly her father, would be inexpressibly anxious on occasion of her absence.

Lord Baltimore now conducted her downstairs, and ordered breakfast; but she refused to eat, and wept incessantly till twelve o'clock, when she once more demanded her liberty. His lordship now said that he loved her to excess; that be could not part with her; that he did not intend any injury to her, and that he would write to her father: and on this be wrote a letter, of which the following is a copy; and in it sent a bank-note of two hundred pounds:-- 'Your daughter Sally sends you the enclosed, and desires you will not be uneasy on her account, because every thing will turn out well with a little patience and prudence. She is at a friend's house safe and well, in all honesty and honour; nothing else is meant, you may depend on it; and, sir, as your presence and consent are necessary, we beg of you to come, in a private manner, to Mr. Richard Smith's, in Broad Street Buildings.'

Lord Baltimore showed this letter to Miss Woodcock; but so greatly was her mind disturbed, that she knew little of its contents; and so exceedingly was she terrified, that she wrote the following words at the bottom, by his direction: 'Dear father, this is true, and I should be glad you would come this afternoon: From your dutiful daughter.'

After writing the above postscript, she appears to have been convinced of the impropriety of it, and, turning to his lordship, she said 'Can you look me in the face, and say that your name is Richard Smith, or that these are Broad Street Buildings?' Struck with guilt, be acknowledged his name was not Richard Smith, but said that gentleman lived within a few doors; and that the place was not the Broad Street Buildings in the city, but another of the same name at the west end of the town.

She now wept incessantly at the thought of her unhappy situation, and repeatedly begged for her liberty; but, no sooner did she presume to go towards the window to make her distress evident to any casual passenger, than one or other of the women forced her away.

At length Mrs. Griffenburg gave orders that the window should be nailed up; but Lord Baltimore came in at the juncture, and pretended to be very angry at this proceeding, lest it should be suspected that murder was intended to be committed in the house. His lordship then told Miss Woodcock that if she presumed to pull up the windows, or make any disturbance, he would throw her into, the street; a circumstance by which she was greatly terrified.

This happened at the approach of night, and she continued weeping and lamenting her situation, and refused to take any refreshment at supper. When desired to go to bed, she refused to do so, unless Lord Baltimore would solemnly promise not to molest her. On this she spent the night walking about the room, while the two women who were appointed to guard her went to bed.

In the morning she went into a parlour, where Lord Baltimore waiting on her, she endeavoured to represent his ill conduct in the most striking light, and begged that if he had the tenderness of a father for a child he would permit her to depart. He said that she might write to her father, which she did; and, fearful of giving offence, said that she had been treated 'with as much honour as she could expect, and begged her friends would come immediately.' Lord Baltimore was now out of the room; but the women told Miss Woodcock that his lordship had sent two hundred pounds to her father on the preceding day. She seemed amazed at this circumstance, which appears to be a proof of the anxiety of her mind at the time the letter was written.

Soon after this a servant came in with a letter as from the presumed Richard Smith. It was written in a language she did not understand; but Lord Baltimore pretended to explain it to her, saying it intimated that her father had been at Mr. Smith's, but would not wait while she was sent for.

In order to carry on the imposition, his lordship sent for a man who personated the supposed Mr. Smith; but Miss Woodcock was soon convinced that be had never seen her father, from the unsatisfactory answers that he gave to her inquiries.

After this Lord Baltimore played a tune, while the pretended Mr. Smith and Mrs. Harvey danced to the music; but in the mean time Miss Woodcock was tormented by a thousand conflicting passions. She was then shown some fine paintings in the room, one of which being that of a ship in distress, she said it bore a great resemblance to her own unhappy situation.

Then the man, called Smith was desired by Lord Baltimore to draw Miss Woodcock's picture; and he instantly pulled out a pencil, and made the drawing, while the young lady sat in a posture of extreme grief and dejection.

At midnight Mr. Broughton, his lordship's steward, brought intelligence that Isaacs, the Jew, having offered a letter to Miss Woodcock's father, was stopped till he should give an account where the young lady was secreted. Lord Baltimore was, or affected to be, in a violent passion, and vowed vengeance against the father; but in the interim the Jew entered, and delivered a letter which he pretended to have received from Miss Woodcock's sister. She took it to read; but she had wept so much that her eyes were sore; and of all she read she could recollect but this passage:-- 'Only please to appoint a place where and when we may meet withyou.'

The hour of retirement being arrived, Miss Woodcock refused to go upstairs, unless she might be assured of not receiving any insult from his lordship. She had not taken any sustenance since she entered the house. For this night she laid down in her clothes, on a bed in which Mrs. Harvey reposed herself. She asked this bad woman if she had ever been in love; and acknowledged that she herself was addressed by a young fellow, who appeared to be very fond of her, and that they were to settle in business as soon as the marriage should take place; wherefore she desired Mrs. Harvey to show her the way out of a house that had been so obnoxious to her: but the answer of the latter was, that though she had lived in the house several years, she did not herself know the way out of it.

On the following morning, when Miss Woodcock went downstairs, she pleaded earnestly with Lord Baltimore for her liberty; on which he became most violently enraged, called her by the vilest names, arid said that, if she spoke to him on the subject any more, he would either throw her out of the window, or send her home in a wheelbarrow, with her petticoats tied over her head; and, turning to Isaacs the Jew, he said, 'Take the slut to a mean house like herself;' which greatly terrified her, as she presumed he meant a house of ill fame.

The sufferings she had undergone having by this time made her extremely ill, Lord Baltimore mixed a physical draught for her, which he insisted on her drinking.

On the Sunday afternoon he begged her to sit and hear him talk. His discourse consisted of a ridicule on religion, and every thing that was sacred, even to the denying the existence of a soul.

After supper he made six several attempts to ravish her within two hours; but she repulsed him in such a determined manner, that it was impossible for him to accomplish his dishonourable purpose. On that night she lay with Mrs. Harvey; but could get no rest, as she was in perpetual fear of renewed insults from his. lordship.

On the Monday morning she was told that she should see her father, if she would dry her eyes, wash herself, and put on clean linen. Mrs. Griffenburg now supplied her with a change of linen; and then she was hurried into the coach with Lord Baltimore, Doctor Griftenburg, and two women. They were carried to Lord Baltimore's country seat at Epsom, where she experienced several fresh acts of indecency from her ignoble tormentor; and, on her again resisting him, he said she must submit that night, with or without her consent; and in this declaration he was supported by the two infamous women.

At supper she ate a few mouthfuls; but declined drinking any thing, lest some intoxicating matter should be mixed with the liquor. Lord Baltimore and his people now diverted themselves with the game of blind-man's buff; but Miss Woodcock refused to take any share in their ridiculous folly.

The two women now conducted her to the bed chamber, and began to undress her; nor was she capable of making much resistance, being weak, through want of food and continued grief. Still, however, she begged to be deprived of life, rather than submit to dishonourable treatment.

On the drawing of the curtains she observed that Lord Baltimore was in bed, which added to her former terrors; but she was not suffered to remain long in doubt: the women left her; but, alas! not to her repose; for that night gave rise to the crime which furnished matter for the prosecution of which we are now reciting the particulars.

Twice (according to Miss Woodcock's deposition) was this horrid purpose effected; and, though she called out repeatedly for help, yet she found none; and in the morning, when she went to Mrs. Harvey's room, and told her what had passed, the latter advised her to be quiet, for that she had made noise enough already.

The infamous Harvey now hinting that worse consequences might still be expected, Miss Woodcock determined to seem content with her situation, disagreeable as it was, in the hope of obtaining the protection of her friends.

In this hope she frequently went to the window, flattering herself that she might see some person whom she knew. With the same view she went out once with his lordship, and once with Mrs. Griffenburg; and, having accidentally heard the name of Lord Baltimore mentioned, she presumed this to be the person who had treated her so ill; nor had she a guess who it was till this period.

On the afternoon of the day that she made this discovery they went to London, to the great joy of Miss Woodcock, who hoped now to find an easier communication with her friends. At her request she was permitted to sleep alone; and the next day he introduced her to Madam Saunier, the governess to his lordship's natural daughters, telling her that Miss Woodcock had been recommended as a companion to the young ladies.

On this day he gave her some money, and desired her to dispose of it as she thought proper; and, when night advanced, he sent Mrs. Griffenburg to order her to come to bed. She at first refused to comply, and at length yielded only on conditional terms. What passed this night is too horrid for relation.

On the following day Mrs. Griffenburg told her that she had been preparing another apartment for her, and begged that she would come and see it; and conducted her to a stone garret, which was remarkably cold and damp; and, being among the servants' apartments, she began to apprehend that Lord Baltimore, having gratified his own passion, was disposed to transfer her to his dependents.

Miss Woodcock's friends now began to form some conjectures where she might be secreted; and Mr. Davis, a young fellow who had paid his addresses to her, determined to exert himself to ascertain the fact.

On the Sunday he placed himself under a window of Lord Baltimore's house, and had not been there long before she saw him, and intimated that she did so. On this Davis took out a book, motioning with his hand for her to write. She then waved her hand for him to approach; but, as he did not seem to comprehend her meaning, she ran into another room, and said 'I cannot come to you; is my father well?' He answered that all parties were well, and asked what was become of Mrs. Harvey. The young lady now put down the window, and retired, unable any longer to continue the conversation.

Mr. Davis now went and informed Miss Woodcock's father of the discovery he had made; on which the old gentleman went to Mr. Cay, a baker, in Whitecross Street, to ask his opinion. Mr. Cay went with him to Mr. Watts, an attorney, who advised them to make application to Lord Mansfield for a writ of habeas corpus. But it may be now necessary to take notice of what passed between Lord Baltimore and Miss Woodcock in the meantime.

On the day following that on which she had been seen by Davis, his lordship told her that she should see her father that day, at Dr. Griffenburg's, in Dean Street, Soho; and he said he would make a settlement on her for life if she would acknowledge that she had been well treated. This she agreed to, in the hope of obtaining her freedom. She was then told that her father had caused Mrs. Harvey to be taken into custody.

Lord Baltimore now went to Griffenburg's with Miss Woodcock, taking likewise a young lady, of whom she was to declare herself the companion: but they had been only a few minutes at Griffenburg's when a servant came to apprise his lordship that Sir John Fielding's people had surrounded his house.

Lord Baltimore, having previously sent one of his servants with a letter to Miss Woodcock's father, now ordered a coach; and he, and Dr. Griffenburg and the young lady, now went to a tavern in Whitechapel, in quest of the servant, who told them that Mr. Woodcock having been out all day in search of his daughter, and not being returned, he (the servant) would not leave the letter, from a point of prudence.

Hereupon they drove to a house in Covent Garden, where the servant soon arrived with a note from Sir John Fielding's clerk, desiring Miss Woodcock to come to Bow Street, where her friends were, in expectation of her arrival. Fearful of taking any step that might involve her in still farther difficulties, she showed Lord Baltimore the note, when he declared she should not comply with the contents; and they immediately drove to Dr. Griffenburg's.

At this place they were met by his lordship's steward, who said his house was still surrounded by peace-officers; but, as they went away soon afterwards, this unworthy peer then took Miss Woodcock home in his own carriage.

On their arrival the valet-de-chambre told his master that on the Sunday morning the young lady had spoken to a person from the window, His lordship now demanded if this was fact. She acknowledged that it was; but said she had not acquainted her friends with her distressed situation.

He now tried to calm her mind, but said that she must sleep with him that night, which she positively refused, unless he would engage not to offer her any insult; and this promise was made, and complied with.

In the morning Mr. Watts, the attorney, called at Lord Baltimore's house with a writ of habeas corpus; but the porter would not admit him till he produced the writ; but then he was asked into the house, and Lord Baltimore made acquainted with his business. On this his lordship told his prisoner Mr. Watts's business, and begged she would prepare to see him with all possible composure.

In the interim his lordship waited on the attorney, who demanded whether one Sarah Woodcock was in his house: but, on his declining to give an immediate answer, Watts said that he would serve the writ unless she was instantly produced; and that the consequence would be that all his doors must be broke open till she was found: but he hoped that so violent a procedure would not be necessary.

His lordship now begged his patience for a short time, and his requisition should be complied with. Mr. Watts agreed to wait, and the other, going to Miss Woodcock, requesting her to write to her father, and declare that she had been used with tenderness, and had consented to her then situation; and he desired her to add that she wished to see her father and sisters, but hoped their visit would be of the peaceful kind; and with all this she complied, in hope, as she afterwards declared, of obtaining her liberty.

This letter being sealed, and dispatched by one of his lordship's servants, be introduced the attorney to Miss Woodcock, who asked her if her residence in that house was a matter of choice, or whether she was forcibly detained. She replied that she remained there by her own consent, hut that she was anxious to see her father.

With this declaration Mr. Watts appeared satisfied, saying that no person had any right to interfere, if she voluntarily consented to her situation.

His lordship then intimated that it would be proper for her to go to Lord Mansfield, and make a similar declaration. She made no hesitation to comply with this proposal; but still appeared exceedingly anxious to have a conference with her father.

On this the parties went to Lord Mansfield's house in Bloomsbury Square, where they were shown into different apartments; and Miss Woodcock's friends waited in an antechamber, to hear the issue of this extraordinary affair.

The young lady being examined by Lord Mansfield, he inquired minutely into the circumstances respecting her being conveyed to Lord Baltimore's house. She answered every question in the most explicit manner; and, when the judge asked her if she was willing to live with his lordship, she answered in the affirmative; but expressed great earnestness to see her friends first.

On this she was shown into the room where her friends waited; and the first question she asked was 'Who Lord Mansfield was, and whether he had a right to set her at liberty?' She was told that his right was indisputable; and his lordship being again consulted, he inquired if she still adhered to her former opinion; to which she replied that she did not, but desired to go home with her father.

His lordship then asked her how happened the sudden change in her mind. Her answer was 'Because, till I saw them, I did not know you had power to release me.' His lordship then said 'Child, it is in my power to let you go;' and told her she was at full liberty to go where she pleased'; on which she went into the other room to her friends, but was unable to express her joy on the occasion.

In the interim Lord Mansfield addressed the Reverend Mr. Watson, a dissenting minister, and some other persons present, to the following effect:― 'Gentlemen, I would have you take notice of Miss Woodcock's answers, because possibly this matter may be variously talked of in public, and justice ought to be done to both parties; for, when this lady came before me on her private examination, she expressed a desire to see her father and sister, or sisters: and now she has answered as you have heard.' On Miss Woodcock's discharge, Mr. Cay, the baker, in Whitecross Street (to whom her father bad delivered the two hundred pound bank-note, which had been enclosed in t e letter by Lord Baltimore), conveyed the young lady to S ir John Fielding, before whom she swore to the actual commission of the rape by Lord Baltimore.

At this time Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey were in custody; and a warrant was issued to apprehend Lord Baltimore; but he secreted himself for the present, and surrendered to the Court of King's Bench on the last day of Hilary term, 1768; and the two women being brought thither by habeas corpus, they were all admitted to bail, in order for trial at Kingston, in Surrey, because the crime was alleged to have been committed at his lordship's seat at Epsom.

In the interim Miss Woodcock went to the house of Mr. Cay, in Whitecross Street; but, not being properly accommodated there, she went to the house of a friend, where she lived in great privacy and retirement till the time arrived for the trial of the offending parties.

Bills of indictment being found against Lord Baltimore and the two women, they were all brought to trial before the Lord Chief Baron Smythe; and, after the evidence against them had been given, in substance as may be collected from the preceding narrative, Lord Baltimore made the following defence, which was read in Court by Mr. Hamersley, solicitor to his lordship:--

'My Lord and Gentlemen,

'I have put myself upon my country, in hopes that prejudice and clamour will avail nothing in this place, where it is the privilege of the meanest of time king's subjects to be presumed innocent until his guilt has been made appear by legal evidence. I wish I could say that I had been treated abroad with the same candour. I have been loaded with obloquy, the most malignant libels have been circulated, and every other method which malice could devise has been taken to create general prejudice against me. I thank God that, under such circumstances, I have had firmness and resolution enough to meet my accusers face to face, and provoke an inquiry into my conduct. Hic murus aheneus esto, -- nil conscire sibi. The charge against me, and against these poor people who are involved with me, because they might otherwise have been just witnesses of my innocence, is in its nature very easy to be made, and hard to be disproved. The accuser has the advantage of supporting it by a direct and positive oath; the defence can only be collected from circumstances.

'My defence is composed, then, of a variety of circumstances, all tending to show the falsity of this charge, the absurdity of it, the improbability that it could be true. It will be laid before the jury under the direction of my counsel; and I have the confidence of an innocent man, that it will be manifest to your lordship, the jury, and the whole world, that the story told by this woman is a perversion of truth in every particular. What could induce her to make such a charge I can only suspect: very soon after she came to my house, upon a representation to me that her father was distressed, I sent him a considerable sum of money: whether the ease with which the money was obtained from me might suggest the idea as a means of obtaining a larger sum of money, or whether it was thought necessary to destroy me, in order to establish the character of the girl to the world, I know not; but I do aver, upon the word of a man of honour, that there is no truth in any thing which has been said or sworn of my having offered violence to this girl. I ever held such brutality in abhorrence. I am totally against all force; and for me to have forced this woman, considering my weak state of health, and my strength, is not only a moral, but a physical, impossibility. She is, as to bodily strength, stronger than I am. Strange opinions, upon subjects foreign to this charge, have been falsely imputed to me, to inflame this accusation. Libertine as I am represented, I hold no such opinions. Much has been said against me, that I seduced this girl from her parents: seduction is not the point of this charge; but I do assure your lordship and the jury this part of the case has been aggravated exceedingly beyond the truth. If I have been in any degree to blame, I am sure I have sufficiently atoned for every indiscretion, which a weak attachment to this unworthy woman may have led me into, by having suffered the disgrace of being exposed as a criminal at the bar in the county which my father had the honour to represent in parliament, and where I had some pretensions to have attained the same honour, had that sort of an active life been my object.

I will take up no more of your lordship's time than to add that, if I had been conscious of the guilt now imputed to me, I could have kept myself and my fortune out of the reach of the laws of this country, I am a citizen of the world; I could have lived any where: hut I love my own country, and. submit to its laws, resolving that my innocence should be justified by the laws. I now, by my own voluntary act, by surrendering myself to the Court of King's Bench, stake, upon the verdict of twelve men, my life, my fortune, and, what is dearer to me, my honour.

'BALTIMORE.

'March 25, 1768.'

The substance of the defences of Mrs. Griffenburg and Mrs. Harvey consisted principally in alleging that Miss Woodcock had consented to all that had passed, and that no force had been used towards her either by Lord Baltimore or themselves.

The evidence of Dr. Griffenburg was not admitted, as his name was upon record, on a charge of having been concerned in a crime of a similar nature.

After every thing alleged against the prisoners had been heard in the most dispassionate manner, the judge addressed himself to the jury in the following terms:--

'Gentlemen of the Jury,

The prisoner at the bar, Lord Baltimore, stands indicted for feloniously ravishing, and carnally knowing, Sarah Woodcock, spinster, against her will, on the 22d of December last, at Epsom, against the statute which makes this offence felony: and the other two prisoners are indicted as accessories before the fact, by feloniously and maliciously procuring, aiding, and abetting Lord

Baltimore to commit the said rape, at the same time and place. To this they have pleaded not guilty, and you are to try if they are guilty. Before I state to you the evidence I will mention to you two or three things: in the first place, my lord complains of libels and printed accounts of this transaction, which have been circulated. It is a most unjustifiable practice, and tends to the perversion of public justice; and, therefore, if you have seen any thing printed on  the side of the prosecutrix, or the prisoners, I must desire you to divest yourselves of any prejudice that such publications must have occasioned, and give your verdict only on the evidence now laid before you. Another thing I desire is, that, whichever way the verdict is given, none of the friends of any of the parties will make use of any expressions of approbation or applause, which are extremely improper and indecent in a court of justice, and I shall certainly commit any person whom I know to be guilty of it. The last thing that I shall mention to you is, to desire that no resentment you may feel at the manner in which she was carried to Lord Baltimore's house may have any influence on your verdict; for, however unwarrantable the manner was in which she came into his power, if, at the time he lay with her, it was by her consent, he is not guilty of the offence of which he is indicted; though it was proper to be given in evidence on this trial, to account for her being with him, and his having an opportunity of committing the crime: and to show, from the indirect manner of getting her to his house, the greater probability that her account is true. Having said this, I will now state to you the whole evidence as particularly as I can.'

Mr. Baron Smythe then stated the whole of the evidence to the jury, as before given, which took up three hours, and then concluded thus:--

'In point of law, the fact is fully proved on my lord and the two other prisoners, if you believe the evidence of Sarah Woodcock. It is a crime which in its nature can only be proved by the woman on whom it is committed; for she only can tell whether she consented or no: it is, as my lord observes, very easy to be made, and hard to be disproved; and the defence can only be collected from circumstances; from these you must judge whether her evidence is or is not to be believed. Lord Hale, in his 'History of the Pleas of the Crown,' lays down the rules:-- 1. If complaint is not made soon after the injury is supposed to be received; 2. If it is not followed by a recent prosecution; a strong presumption arises that the complaint is malicious. She has owned the injury was received December 22; the complaint was not made till December 29; but she has accounted for it in the manner you have beard. The strong part of the case on behalf of the prisoners is her not complaining when she was at Lord Mansfield's, the supreme magistrate in the kingdom in criminal matters. You have heard how she has explained and accounted for her conduct in that particular, which you will judge of. Upon the whole, if you believe that she made the discovery as soon as she knew she had an opportunity of doing it, and that her account is true, you will find all the prisoners guilty; if you believe that she did not make the discovery as soon as she had an opportunity, and from thence, or other circumstances, are not satisfied her account is true, you will find them all not guilty; for, if he is not guilty, they cannot be so; for they cannot be accessory to a crime which was never committed.'

After an absence of an hour and twenty minutes, the jury returned with a verdict that the prisoners were Not Guilty.

This singular affair was tried at Kingston, in Surrey, on the 20th of March, 1768.

Our readers will not be displeased with a few remarks on this very extraordinary transaction ―The meanness of Lord Baltimore, and the unreasonable terror and ignorance of Miss Woodcock, will appear to be equal objects of astonishment. His lordship's devices to obtain possession of this woman were beneath the dignity of a nobleman, or, indeed, of any man; and her tame submission to the insult is a proof that she had little idea of the sacred protection which the laws of her country would have afforded her; for Lord Baltimore's house (at the bottom of Southampton Row, Bloomsbury) was not so obscurely situated but that she might have made application to many a passenger.

Something, indeed, must be allowed to feminine fear on such an occasion, after she once found herself in the actual possession of a man from whom she thought it would be dangerous even to attempt an escape.

Miss Woodcock's ignorance of Lord Mansfield's power will appear very extraordinary; but surely not more so than that of a man, who, being an evidence before Sir John Fielding, addressed him successively by the titles of sir! your honour! your worship! your lordship! your grace! and your majesty! These appellations were repeatedly heard to be given within half an hour by the writer of this narrative; and be presumes the circumstance may be considered as an apology for the superlative ignorance of Miss Woodcock.

On the whole, however, this case is of the melancholy kind. What hall we think of a man, of Lord Baltimore's rank and fortune, who could debase himself beneath all rank and distinction, and, by the wish to gratify his irregular passions, submit to degrade him self in the opinion of his own servants and other domestics?

Addison has a fine sentiment, by which our nobility ought to be influenced:―

'Honour 's a sacred tie; the law of kings;

The noble mind's distinguishing perfection:

It aids and strengthens Virtue where it meets her,

And imitates her actions where she is not:

It is not to be sported with.'--

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8: John Wilkes, Esq., M.P.

Whose arrest and conviction for writing seditious and blasphemous pamphlets led to riots in London in 1768.

THE YEAR 1768 will ever be remembered in the annals of the English history, on account of the murders and mischief committed by a deluded mob, stimulated by the writings of John Wilkes, Esq. an alderman of London, and member of parliament for Aylesbury.

The most scandalous and offensive of his writings, were in a periodical publication called "The North Briton," No. 45, and a pamphlet entitled "An Essay on Woman." The North Briton was of a political nature; the other a piece of obscenity; the one, calculated to set the people against the government, the other to corrupt their morals.

Among the ministers who found themselves more personally attacked in the North Briton, was Samuel Martin, Esq. member for Camelford. This gentleman found his character, as secretary of the treasury, so vilified, that he challenged the writer to fight him. Wilkes had already been engaged in a duel with Lord Talbot, and escaped unhurt; but Mr. Martin shot him in the body, of which wound he laid in imminent danger, during several days, and was confined to his house for some weeks.

The attorney-general filed informations against Wilkes, as author of the North Briton, No. 45, and a pamphlet emitted "An Essay on Woman." On these charges he was appre hended and committed prisoner to the Tower, but soon admitted to bail. His papers were forcibly seized, for which be charged the secretaries of state with a robbery, and which was afterwards, by the court of the King's Bench, determined to have been illegal.

Before his trial came on, Mr. Wilkes fled to France, under the pretext of restoring his health, which had suffered from his wound, and the harrassing measures taken against him by the secretaries of state, lord Egremont and lord Halifax. No sooner was he out of the kingdom, than they proceeded to outlaw him, dismissed him from his command as colonel of the Buckinghanishire militia, and expelled him from this seat in parliament.

But even a foreign land did not shelter him from the resentment of his fellow subjects. On the 15th of August, captain Forbes, in the British service, met Wilkes walking with lord Palmelston in Paris, and though he had never seen either of them, yet, from a drawing, he conceived one of them to be the man who had so much abused his native country, Scotland. Finding his conjecture right, he told Wilkes, that, as the author of the North Briton, he must fight him, and Mr. Wilkes referred him to his hotel; but when Mr. Forbes got an interview with him, which he stated to have been attended with much difficulty, he was answered that Mr. Wilkes would meet no man in combat, until he had fought lord Egremont, whom he could not challenge while he held his high official station under government.

The captain insisted to no purpose; and then calling him a scoundrel, threatened him with a caning, on their next meeting in the public streets. Lord Egremont's death, which happened at this juncture, released Wilkes from his pretended sanguinary determination against that nobleman.

In a few months Mr. Wilkes returned to London, and gave notice, that he would, on a certain day, surrender himself on the information filed against him. He then appeared in his place as an alderman at Guildhall; and on his return, the mob took the horses from his carriage, and dragged it to his house, crying, "Wilkes and Liberty!"

On the 21st of February, 1764, the trial of Mr. Wilkes for the libels before-mentioned, came on before lord Mansfield, and he was found guilty of both. More than two years were occupied in law proceedings on the validity of his apprehension, the seizure of his papers, and the outlawry, the detail of which would afford little entertainment to our readers.

On the 27th of April, 1768, Mr. Wilkes was served with a writ of Capias Ut Logatum, and he appeared before the court of King's Bench, in the custody of the proper officer. His counsel moved to admit him to bail, but it was opposed by the counsel for the crown; who contended that no precedent could be produced of a person under a criminal conviction being admitted to bail, for, by such an indulgence it might be said, that a man who flies from justice, and is thereupon outlawed, would be in a better state than the man who submits to it; in the latter case, after conviction, he must remain in custody until sentence is passed; whereas, in the former case, he would be at large.

The court was convinced by this argument, and Mr. Wilkes was ordered to the King's Bench prison. In his way thither, the coach in which he was carried, was stopt by the mob, who took off the horses and dragged it, with him, through the city, to a public- house, in Spital-fields, where they permitted him to alight. From thence, about eleven at night, he made his escape, and immediately proceeded towards the prison, where he surrendered himself.

The next day he was visited by many of his friends, and the prison was surrounded by a vast concourse of people, who, it was feared, would have offered some outrage; but all remained quiet until night, when they pulled up the rails which inclosed the footway, with which they made a bonfire, and obliged the inhabitants of the borough of Southwark, to illuminate their houses; nor would they disperse until the arrival of a captain's guard of soldiers.

From this time a mob constantly surrounded the King's Bench prison for several days. At length the justices appeared, followed by the military, the riot-act was read, and the mob not dispersing, the soldiers were ordered to fire upon them. Many were killed, and among them some passers-by, at a considerable distance from the scene of confusion.

On the 28th the case of the outlawry was finally argued in the court of King's Bench; serjeant Glynn, on the part of Mr. Wilkes, greatly added to his reputation, as a sound lawyer, and was ably answered by the attomey-general; but the judges, though they somewhat differed in their reasons on the illegality of the outlawry, were unanimous in their opinion, that it should be reversed. This was a great point obtained by Mr. Wilkes, and obnoxious as he was to government, the determination, consistent with law, was upright and honourable in the learned bench.

Mr. Wilkes was not, however, destined to clear himself by this single point gained, for the attorney-general immediately moved, that judgment might be passed upon him on his several convictions. The prisoner's counsel upon this, moved an arrest of judgment; and the court appointed the next Thursday to hear the arguments thereon. The general warrant on which Mr. Wilkes was apprehended, was also declared illegal.

These determinations will shew the reader, that however great a man's crimes, he must be proceeded against according to the strict letter of the law of the land. In this respect Mr. Wilkes was hardly dealt with, and he took especial care to promulgate those hardships to the people.

In his address to his constituents, the freeholders of Middlesex, he says,

"in the whole progress of ministerial vengeance against me for several years, I have shewn, to the conviction of all mankind, that my enemies have trampled on the laws, and have been actuated by the spirit of tyranny and arbitrary power.

"The general warrant under which I was first apprehended has been judged illegal. The seizure of my papers was condemned judicially. The outlawry, so long the topic of violent abuse, is, at last, declared to have been contrary to law; and on the ground first taken by my friend, Mr. Serjeant Glynn, is formally reversed."

On the day apppinted for that purpose, the last effort was made to get rid of the remainder of the proceedings against Mr. Wilkes. The arguments for an arrest of judgment, though carried on with great ingenuity, would not hold, and he was found legally convicted of writing the libels. For that in The True Briton, he was fined £500 and sentenced to two years imprisonment in the King's Bench prison; and for The Essay on Woman, £500 more, a farther imprisonment of twelve months, and to find security for his good behaviour for seven years.

Previous to his imprisonment, Mr. Wilkes was elected member of parliament for Middlesex, when the mob proceeded to various acts of outrage. They broke the windows of lord Bute, the prime minister, and of the mansion-house, even that of the lady mayoress's bed-chamber, forced the inhabitants of the metropolis to illuminate their houses, crying out, "Wilkes and Liberty!" and all who refused to echo it back, were knocked down. The outrages of the populace, were too many to be enumerated; several innocent people were killed, and numbers wounded. They broke windows without number, destroyed furniture, and even insulted royalty itself.

Thus we find, that Wilkes was long the idol of the mob, but like all other such leaders, he fell into oblivion, and passed through the crowd with as little notice as any other man. He greatly wished to possess the chamberlainship of London, but the better class of citizens were too wary to trust him with their cash, and after a contested election for that lucrative place, alderman Hopkins was chosen.

The metropolis, as well as various other parts of the kingdom, had not been so convulsed with riots and partial insurrections since the civil wars, as during the short time of Wilkes's popularity.

These disgraceful tumults, and the lenity, or as some would have it, the timidity of government, spread disaffection into all classes of mechanics, who, thinking the time at hand, when they might exact what wages they pleased, and perhaps beyond their masters' profits, struck their work.

The Watermen of the Thames assembled in a body before the mansion-house, and complained to the lord-mayor of the low prices of their fares, when his lordship advised them to draw up a petition to parliament, which he would himself present, upon which they gave him three cheers and departed.

The Spitalfields Weavers proceeded to greater outrages. A great number of them forcibly entered the house of Mr. Nathaniel Fair, in Pratt's-alley, cut to pieces and destroyed the silk-work manufactory in two different looms. They forcibly entered the house of his relation, Mrs. Elizabeth Pratt, in the same alley, and murdered a lad of seventeen years of age, by shooting hun through the head with a pistol loaded with slugs. A reward was offered for apprehending these rioters, and his Majesty's pardon offered to him who discovered the murderer.

The Sawyers assembled in large bodies, pulled down the saw-mill, lately erected at a great expence, on pretence that it deprived many workmen of employment. They also wanted more wages.

The Hatters at the same time struck, and demanded encreased wages; but we do not hear of any outrages being committed by them.

The Labouring Husbandmen rose in several parts of England, in order to reduce the price of grain.

At Tenderton, in Kent, a paper was pasted on the church door, threatening the farmers, if they refused to sell their wheat at 10L. a load, and the millers, if they gave more; and exciting all the poor to assemble, and raise a mob, and those who refused were to have their right arms broke. At Hastings in Sussex, the mob committed various outrages on the farmers in That neighbourhood, and threatened the life of a justice of the peace for attempting to commit one of them to prison.

The Journeymen Coopers at Liverpool also rose in a body, and in a cruel manner forced one of their masters on a pole, and carried him through the streets, pretending he had hurt their trade.

The Subalterns of the Army and Marines also petitioned, though not in a tumultuous manner, for an increase of pay which being granted, they assembled at the Globe Tavern, in the Strand, and deputed lieutenant Carrol to wait upon the Marquis of Granby, and General Conway, to return them thanks for their support on that occasion.

The Lieutenants of the Navy, followed their example, and deputed one of their rank to return thanks to the honourable Captain Henry, for his unvarying perseverance in obtaining them the addition to their pay, of one shilling per day.

The Sailors also followed the example of the landsmen, went in a body of many thousands, with drums beating and colours flying, to St. James's Palace, and presented a petition to the king, praying a "Relief of Grievances." Two days afterwards they assembled in much greater numbers, and proceeded as far as Palace-yard in order to petition parliament for an increase of wages; where they were addressed by two gentlemen standing on the top of a hackney-coach, who told them that their petition could not be immediately answered, but that it would be considered and answered in due time, where upon the tars gave three cheers, and for a while dispersed. A short time, however, afterwards, they assembled at Limehouse, boarded several outward-bound ships, and forcibly carried away several of their crews, under pretence of not suffering ships to sail, until the seamens' wages were increased.

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9: James Gibson

A Gentleman, executed at Tyburn, 23rd of March, 1768, for Forgery on the Bank of England

THIS gentleman had received a liberal education, and was bound clerk to Mr Francis, an attorney of eminence, residing in Lincoln's Inn. His good behaviour and the rapid improvement he made in the profession of the law induced his master, on the expiration of his articles, to take him into partnership. In the early part of life he had married a young lady, with whom he received a genteel fortune, and by whom he had five children. Notwithstanding these tender pledges of his love, he deserted his wife and family for the embraces of a mistress who had been kept by a Scottish nobleman, leaving them to suffer the extremes of want while he was enjoying the luxuries of life.

Mr Francis's business was of an extensive nature, and was principally transacted by Gibson, who gave proof of the most consummate abilities in his profession. Among other engagements, Mr Francis was employed in a cause respecting an estate in Chancery, on which an injunction was issued; and a person was appointed to receive the rents of the estate till the Lord Chancellor should make his final decree. In the interim, Gibson, having reduced himself by a profuse mode of living, forged the handwriting of the Accountant-General of the Court of Chancery in a suit which he was soliciting for Robert Lee, Esq., and others, executors to the late Sir G. Brown, Bart., Robert Pringle and others, in consequence of which he received above nine hundred pounds.

Discovery of this transaction being made in a short time, Gibson was taken into custody, and lodged in Newgate, in September, 1766. When brought to trial for the forgery at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey the jury brought in a special verdict, subject to the determination of the twelve judges. From this time Gibson continued in Newgate till January, 1768 (upwards of fifteen months), and it was the prevailing opinion that no further notice would be taken of the affair. However, Gibson, by repeated applications, urged that this case might be determined by the judges; and at length, in Hilary Term, 1768, the learned Bench made a final decision on his case, importing that it came within the meaning of the law. Consequently he received sentence of death, and was removed into the cells of Newgate. After sentence his behaviour was in every way becoming to his melancholy situation, and he reflected with much sorrow on his unkindness to his wife and family. He was carried to execution in a mourning-coach, and requested that his fellow-sufferer, Benjamin Payne, a footpad, whom he saw placed in a cart, might accompany him, which the sheriff refused.

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10: William Hawkins And Joseph Wild

Indicted for rioting, July, 1768

AT the sessions of the Old Bailey for July, 1768, William Hawkins and Joseph Wild were tried for assaulting and wounding two of the servants of the lord mayor of London, and for other unlawful acts against the peace of our sovereign lord the king.

On the part of the prosecution the first witness called was Mr. Way, a gentleman who was accidentally passing on the evening of this riot. He deposed that be saw a crowd of people carrying a gibbet, on which hung a boot and a petticoat, and making a stand at the Mansion House; be saw the lord mayor come out, and rush among the people who carried the gibbet, on which an affray began, and he presently heard the words 'Knock him down, knock him down!' At this instant he saw the prisoner, Hawkins, laying about him with a stick, which he afterwards found was stuck with nails, and he saw him strike one or two people, who proved to be his lordship's servants. They then seized Hawkins, and were dragging him into the Mansion House; hut the mob rescued him, and he was making off, when the witness collared him, and, with the assistance of the wounded servants, secured him in the Mansion House.

Philip Pyle swore that, being in waiting upon the lord mayor the night of the riot (the 9th of May, the next day after the outlawry against Wilkes was reversed), he observed a great mob advancing with a gibbet, a boot and a petticoat hanging upon it; and being ordered by his lordship to seize it, he gave it a shake, which obliged the mob to quit it; that he was pulling it along, when a man, whom he believed to be the prisoner Hawkins, caught a flambeau out of his hand, and broke his head with it in several places. Dropping the gibbet, he recovered the flambeau, and made a stroke at the assailants (for there were now two or three striking at him), and was endeavouring to retreat for fear of falling, in which case, he said, he must undoubtedly have been murdered, when he received several blows on his head with a stick stuck full of nails, which happened to fly out of the prisoner's, Hawkins, hand, and his fellow-servant snatched it up. The prisoner then endeavoured to defend himself with his hands, but the witness dragged him, in his rage, near twenty yards through the mob; but when he bad got him within ten yards of the Mansion House the mob rescued him, and when he was making off Mr. Way collared him, and brought him back.

Thomas Woodward, another servant of the lord mayor, corroborated the evidence of the two former witnesses.

There being no positive proof against the prisoner Wild, he was acquitted; but Hawkins was found guilty, and sentenced to death.

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11: Sarah Metyard and Sarah Morgan Metyard, her Daughter

Executed at Tyburn, 19th of July, 1768, for the Cruel Murders of Parish Apprentices

SARAH METYARD was a milliner, and the daughter her assistant, in Bruton Street, Hanover Square, London. In the year 1758 the mother had five apprentice girls bound to her from different parish workhouses, among whom were Anne Naylor and her sister. Anne Naylor, being of a sickly constitution, was not able to do so much work as the other apprentices about the same age, and therefore she became the more immediate object of the fury of the barbarous women, whose repeated acts of cruelty at length occasioned the unhappy girl to abscond. Being brought back, she was confined in an upper apartment, and allowed each day no other sustenance than a small piece of bread and a little water.

Seizing an opportunity of escaping from her confinement, unperceived she got into the street, and ran to a milk-carrier, whom she begged to protect her, saying that if she returned she must certainly perish, through the want of food and severe treatment she daily received. Being soon missed, she was followed by the younger Metyard, who seized her by the neck, forced her into the house, and threw her upon the bed in the room where she had been confined, and she was then seized by the old woman, who held her down while the daughter beat her with the handle of a broom in a most cruel manner.

They afterwards put her into a back room on the second storey, tied a cord round her waist, and her hands behind her, and fastened her to the door in such a manner that it was impossible for her either to sit or lie down. She was compelled to remain in this situation for three successive days; but they permitted her to go to bed at the usual hours at night. Having received no kind of nutriment for three days and two nights, her strength was so exhausted that, being unable to walk upstairs, she crept to the garret, where she lay on her hands and feet.

While she remained tied up on the second floor the other apprentices were ordered to work in an adjoining apartment, that they might be deterred from disobedience by being witnesses to the unhappy girl's sufferings; but they were enjoined, on the penalty of being subjected to equal severity, against affording her any kind of relief.

On the fourth day she faltered in speech, and presently afterwards expired. The other girls, seeing the whole weight of her body supported by the strings which confined her to the door, were greatly alarmed, and called out: "Miss Sally! Miss Sally! Nanny does not move." The daughter then came upstairs, saying: "If she does not move, I will make her move"; and then beat the deceased on the head with the heel of a shoe.

Perceiving no signs of life, she called to her mother, who came upstairs and ordered the strings that confined the deceased to be cut; she then laid the body across her lap and directed one of the apprentices where to find a bottle with some hartshorn drops.

When the child had brought the drops, she and the other girls were ordered to go downstairs; and the mother and daughter, being convinced that the object of their barbarity was dead, conveyed the body into the garret . They related to the other apprentices that Nanny had been in a fit, but was perfectly recovered, adding that she was locked into the garret lest she should again run away; and, in order to give an air of plausibililty to their tale, at noon the daughter carried a plate of meat upstairs, saying it was for Nanny's dinner.

They locked the body of the deceased in a box on the fourth day after the murder, and, having left the garret door open and the street door on the jar, one of the apprentices was told to call Nanny down to dinner, and to tell her that, if she promised to behave well in future, she would be no longer confined. Upon the return of the child, she said Nanny was not above-stairs; and after a great parade of searching every part of the house they reflected upon her as being of an intractable disposition and pretended she had run away.

The sister of the deceased, who was apprenticed to the same inhuman mistress, mentioned to a lodger in the house that she was persuaded her sister was dead; observing that it was not probable she had gone away, since parts of her apparel still remained in the garret. The suspicions of this girl coming to the knowledge of the inhuman wretches, they, with a view of preventing a discovery, cruelly murdered her, and secreted the body.

The body of Anne remained in the box two months, during which time the garret door was kept locked, lest the offensive smell shouild lead to a discovery. The stench became so powerful that they judged it prudent to remove the remains of the unhappy victim of their barbarity; and therefore, on the evening of the 25th of December, they cut the body in pieces, and tied the head and trunk up in one cloth and the limbs in another, excepting one hand, a finger belonging to which had been amputated before death, and that they resolved to burn.

When the apprentices had gone to bed, the old woman put the hand into the fire, saying: "The fire tells no tales." She intended to consume the entire remains of the unfortunate girl by fire but, afraid that the smell would give rise to suspicion, changed that design, and took the bundles to the gully-hole in Chick Lane and endeavoured to throw the parts of the mangled corpse over the wall into the common sewer; but being unable to effect that, she left them among the mud and water that was collected before the grate of the sewer.

Some pieces of the body were discovered about twelve o'clock by the watchman, and he mentioned the circumstance to the constable of the night. The constable applied to one of the overseers of the parish, by whose direction the parts of the body were collected and taken to the watchhouse. On the following day the matter was communicated to Mr Umfreville, the coroner, who examined the pieces found by the watchman; but he supposed them to be parts of a corpse taken from a churchyard for the use of some surgeon, and declined to summon a jury.

Four years elapsed before the discovery of these horrid murders, which at length happened in the following manner. Continual disagreements prevailed between the mother and daughter; and, though the latter had now arrived at the age of maturity, she was often beaten, and otherwise treated with severity. Thus provoked, she sometimes threatened to destroy herself, and at others to give information against her mother as a murderer.

At last information concerning the affair was given to the overseers of Tottenham parish, and mother and daughter were committed to the Gatehouse. At the ensuing Old Bailey sessions they were both sentenced to be executed on the following Monday, and then to be conveyed to Surgeons' Hall for dissection.

The mother, being in a fit when she was put into the cart, lay at her length till she came to the place of execution, when she was raised up, and means were used for her recovery, but without effect, so that she departed this life in a state of insensibility. From the time of leaving Newgate to the moment of her death the daughter wept incessantly.

After hanging the usual time the bodies were conveyed in a hearse to Surgeons' Hall, where they were exposed to the curiosity of the public, and then dissected.

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12: Elizabeth Richardson

Executed at Tyburn, 21st of December, 1768, for murdering an Attorney-at-Law, in Symond's Inn, Chancery Lane

THIS unhappy woman was seduced from the precepts of virtue and honour at an early period of life, and, after subsisting some years on the wages of casual prostitution, was taken into keeping by Mr Pimlot, an attorney-at-law, who had chambers in Symond's Inn.

Whether she had cause for jealousy is uncertain, but she was inflamed with that passion to a degree of violence, and frequently went to his chambers in the expectation of finding him engaged with some other woman.

One Sunday evening Mr Pimlot was engaged with some friends at a house in Fleet Street; and Richardson, going to his chambers and finding him not there, determined to wait till his return. About twelve o'clock Mr Pimlot entered his chambers, without being perceived by the woman, and went to bed.

About half-an-hour afterwards she in a most riotous manner insisted upon being admitted, declaring, with horrid imprecations, that she would not depart till she had seen Mr Pimlot, who for some time made no answer. This exasperating her to still greater outrage, she gave vent to her passion in the most profane language, and, after breaking one of the panes of the window, went towards the passage leading to Chancery Lane, but turning back, she was met by Mr Pimlot, who gave her into custody of the watch. She was no sooner taken into custody than, with a sharp-pointed penknife, with a blade about two inches long, she struck Mr Pimlot under the left breast. The watchman said: "You break the peace, madam, and I must take you to the watch-house." Immediately after this Mr Pimlot, taking the knife from the wound, said, in a faint and tremulous voice: "Here, watchman, take this knife; she has stabbed me."

Mr Pimlot proceeded to the watch-house, being followed by the constable and his prisoner. He sat down in the constable's chair, and on opening his waistcoat the blood was seen issuing from his wound, Leaning down his head, he presently expired, without speaking. The knife was examined, and blood appeared upon the blade.

When she perceived the blood issuing from Mr Pimlot's wound she clasped her hands and exclaimed: "What have I done! Oh, Mr Wilson, it was I that did this shocking deed: instantly send for a surgeon, send for a surgeon! I have murdered my dear Pimlot." She was immediately sent to New Prison; and her tears and other passionate expressions of sorrow proved her to be deeply penetrated by affliction for the crime she had committed.

A watchman was sent for Mr Minors, a surgeon, in Chancery Lane; but he being in bed, two of his pupils accompanied the watchman. Upon their arrival they found the gentleman dead.

On the following day the body was opened by Mr Minors, who found that the heart was penetrated, and that the wound exactly corresponded with the figure of the knife. The coroner's jury being summoned, a verdict of wilful murder was found against the prisoner, who was brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey; and being found guilty, she was sentenced to be executed on the following Monday.

After her body had hung the usual time, it was carried to Surgeons' Hall for dissection.

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1769

12: William Taunton

Executed for the murder of Mrs. Phipps, 11th September, 1769

THIS malefactor was a native of Gloucestershire, and brought up as a husbandman, which employment he quitted to live as ostler at an inn at Tewkesbury, in which capacity he continued several years, and then came to London.

After this he was engaged in the service of Mrs. Phipps, a widow, who kept the Lamb Inn at Colnbrook. Though she was the mother of several children, yet a scandalous intimacy soon ensued between her and Taunton, and they lived together some years as husband and wife; and strangers calling at the inn presumed that he was the landlord, from the airs of authority which he assumed.

Miserable, however, was this connexion in its progress, and fatal to both parties in its event. Continual quarrels arose between them, and frequent blows were the consequence of their reiterated disputes; and this way of life, as might be reasonably imagined, greatly injured the character of Mrs. Pbipps, and occasioned the loss of great part of her business.

After a residence of some time, their situation becoming unhappy, Taunton went down to his friends in Gloucestershire, with an intention, as it was thought, to have remained there; but be had not been long in the country when be received a letter from Mrs. Phipps, earnestly inviting his return, alleging, as a reason for it, that she was unhappy without his company.

The ill-fated man was weak enough to return on this invitation; but the connexion had not been long renewed before their quarrels became as frequent as before, and proceeded even to a greater degree of violence, till the neighbours were alarmed at their inconsistent conduct, and what began in illicit love ended in murder.

After repeated disagreements, they sat down to supper one evening in apparent reconciliation; when Mrs. Phipps asked Mr. Taunton if she should pare him a cucumber, or would he eat it with the rind on. These words were scarcely pronounced when Taunton seized the kitchen poker, and told her to lay hold of one end of it. She wondered at this command, and asked him why it must be complied with. He still insisted on her taking hold of one end of it: on which she said 'If I must have it, let me have the clean end; but what am I to do with it?'-- His answer was 'You must, knock out my brains.' She replied 'No, Taunton, I will not hurt a hair of your head.' To this he said 'If you will not knock my brains out, I will knock your brains out;' and no sooner had be uttered this horrid expression than he struck her on the head with such force as almost to lay her skull bare; after which he gave her a blow on the face, which cut her in the most terrible manner.

A surgeon, being sent for, dressed her wounds, and, addressing himself to Taunton, told him that, if he had murdered her, he would certainly have been hanged. The offender acknowledged that he knew that must have been the consequence; but desired the surgeon to take all proper care of the wounded woman.

The injury took place on the 30th of July, and the surgeon attended the wounded woman for five days; at the end of which time she said to her daughter, 'Peggy, you may go out of the room, for I want to sleep.' During the absence of the daughter Taunton entered the room, and struck Mrs. Phipps so forcibly on the neck with a hatchet, that her head hung over one side of the bed.

The horrid murder being at length committed, Taunton threw down the instrument of death, and went to drink at a public house at about a mile distant; and the surgeon coming soon after to attend his duty, and finding Mrs. Phipps dead, dispatched the ostler and another man in search of the murderer. It was not long before they found him, and, bringing him back to Colnbrook, the surgeon hinted to him that the most fatal consequences would probably ensue from the crime of which he had been guilty.

The coroner's jury, being summoned on the occasion, gave a verdict that Taunton had been guilty of the wilful murder of Mrs. Phipps; on which he was taken before a magistrate, who committed him to New Prison.

In this place he was visited by many persons, who conversed with him on his unhappy situation; and one of them hinting his fears that he was guilty, Taunton acknowledged that he was, and expressed his sorrow for the crime; but said it was now too late to remedy the evil.

His friend then inquired what could induce him to commit such an atrocious crime; to which he answered that she had traduced his character, by telling lies of him in the neighbourhood.

Being brought to trial at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, he produced several persons who deposed that he had been, at times, so much out of his mind, that he was not master of his own conduct: and one of these in particular swore that he had at one time attempted to destroy himself by drowning, and at another by hanging; but this plea being thought unsatisfactory by the jury, he was capitally convicted, and sentenced to die.

After conviction he gave the fullest proof of being in possession of his intellectual faculties; exercising himself in the offices of devotion, and receiving the sacrament from the hands of the Ordinary of Newgate.

He was tried on Saturday, the 9th of September, 1769, and ordered for execution on the Monday following. A most extraordinary shower of rain falling that morning, he was taken from Newgate in a hackney coach, the Ordinary attending him, and the executioner riding behind; and in this manner he was conveyed to the place of death.

On his arrival at the fatal tree a person who had formerly known him went into the cart, and assisted him in his devotion. After the body had hung the usual time it was cut down, and carried to Surgeons' Hall for dissection.

This malefactor suffered at Tyburn on the 11th of September, 1769.

It is very seldom that we hear of unmarried persons living together as man and wife with any tolerable degree of happiness; and bow, indeed, is it to be expected they should? -- Those, who have mutual reason to reproach each other with their crimes, will hardly fail to avail themselves of every opportunity of doing so; for the guilty mind conceives that it lifts a load from its own breast when it seeks to criminate another.

From the whole of this narrative we ought to learn that there is no happiness in this life equal to that which is to be found in the married state. Trifling difficulties may occur; trifling differences may arise between the married pair; but their mutual interest, and their mutual love, will soon reconcile all differences, and overcome all difficulties. The vow which has been made at the altar will perpetually recur to the honest mind: -- the man will consider himself as obliged to the woman who once honoured him with her hand; nor will the woman deem herself less obliged to the man who undertook to be her guardian and protector for life.

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13: Mr Baretti

An Italian, who was indicted for the wilful Murder of Evan Morgan, and acquitted

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey in November, 1769, Mr Baretti was brought to his trial, for the murder of Evan Morgan, on the 6th of October preceding; when the substance of the evidence against him was to the following effect.

Elizabeth Ward deposed, that, between nine and ten at night on the 6th of October, she heard a woman, whom she had never seen before, ask the prisoner to give her a glass of wine, and at the same time take hold of him in a manner inconsistent with decency: -- that the prisoner proceeded forward, but, soon turning back, doubled his fist and struck this deponent a violent blow on the face:― that, on her screaming out, three men came up, and demanded 'how he could strike a woman,' and, shoving him once or twice, pushed him off the pavement. At this time, she said, Baretti drew a knife, while the men followed him, calling out 'Murder! he has a knife out!' and this deponent believed that the deceased was stabbed at this juncture.

The deposition of Thomas Patman was to the following effect. That he had been in company with a Mr Clark and the deceased on the night abovementioned; that he saw Mr Baretti strike a woman, whom he did not know, on the head; and, on her screaming out, Morgan and Clark pushed Patman, though not with much violence, against Baretti, who gave him a blow on the left side, in consequence of which the blood ran down into his shoe:―that he then called out he was stabbed; that Baretti retreated; that Morgan followed him about half-way up Panton Street, where Morgan received a wound from the prisoner in Patman's presence, in consequence of which he fell to the ground.

The testimony of John Clark confirmed, in several particulars, that of the preceding evidence; but, on his being cross-examined, he acknowledged that Patman did not know he was stabbed till Mr Baretti ran into Panton Street. He likewise owned, that himself had sworn before the coroner, 'that Morgan collared Baretti before he knew Patman was wounded; and that one of the women said the prisoner ought to have a knock over the head with her patten.'

The evidence of Mr Lambert, a tallow-chandler in Panton Street, was to the following effect. He said, that Mr Baretti ran into a grocer's shop, opposite his house; that Patman was standing at the door, with the blood running down his shirt, and said that a gentleman in the shop had stabbed him. Mr Baretti had at that time a knife in one hand, and a silver case over the blade, which was bloody. Mr Lambert, who at that time was in the office of constable, called to Baretti to surrender, and, immediately running towards him, seized him, and took him into custody, in order to convey him before a magistrate.

Morgan having been carried to the Middlesex-hospital, one of the patients, who had been there at the time, declared, that he had heard the deceased say, that he saw a gentleman assault two women; on which, without intending to give offence, he went to assist them; when Baretti stabbed him in two places, and that he then turned round, and stabbed him a third time; and that the third wound hurt him more than the two former.

The testimony of Mr Wyatt, the surgeon who attended Morgan, imported, that the deceased had received three wounds, one of which, being in the belly, was the immediate occasion of his death. He farther said, that, while he was dressing Patman, Clark being present, and enquiring into what gave rise to the misfortune, Clark said, that they saw a gentleman abusing a lady who was acquainted with Morgan; that Morgan pushed Clark against Patman, and that Clark pushed him against the prisoner; that he was not struck by either of them, but he believed the woman damned him for a French bougre, and said he ought to have his head cloven with a patten.

A short time after this, Mr Wyatt demanded of Clark whether the woman was of his acquaintance; and he replied in the negative, and then denied that she was even acquainted with Morgan; though, not more than two minutes before, he had confessed that she was.

This being the substance of the evidence on the trial, Mr Baretti read the following defence, which will probably be deemed to give more insight into the real state of the case, than all that has preceded it.

'On Friday the 6th I spent the whole day at home, correcting my Italian and English dictionary, which is actually reprinting and working off; and upon another book in four volumes, which is to be published in February next, and has been advertised in the newspapers. I went a little after four to the club of royal academicians in Soho, where I stopped about half an hour, waiting for my friends, and warming myself in the club-room.

'Upon nobody's coming, I went to the Orange coffee house, to see if a letter was come for me (for my letters come there) but there was none. I went back to go to the club, and going hastily up the Haymarket, there was a woman at a door: they say there were two, but I took notice of but one, as I hope God will save me; there might have been two, though I only saw one; that is a fact. There was a woman eight or ten yards from the corner of Panton Street, and she clapped her hands with such violence about my private parts, that it gave me great pain. This I instantly resented, by giving her a blow on the hand, with a few angry words. The woman got up directly, raised her voice, and finding by my pronunciation I was a foreigner, she called me several bad names, in a most contumelious strain; among which, French bougre, d― ned Frenchman, and a woman-hater, were the most audible.

'I had not quite turned the corner, before a man made me turn back, by giving me a blow with his fist, and asking me how I dare strike a woman; another pushed him against me, and pushed me off the pavement; then three or four more joined them. I wonder I did not fall from the high step which is there. The pathway is much raised from the coachway. A great number of people surrounded me presently, many beating me, and all d― ning me on every side, in a most frightful manner. I was a Frenchman in their opinion, which made me apprehensive I must expect no favour nor protection, but all outrage and blows.

'There is generally a great puddle in the corner of Panton street, even when the weather is fine; but that day it had rained incessantly, which made it very slippery. I could plainly perceive my assailants wanted to throw me into the puddle, where I might be trampled on; so I cried out, murder! There was a space in the circle, from whence I ran into Panton Street, and endeavoured to get into the footway. I was in the greatest horror, lest I should run against some stones, as I have such bad eyes. I could not run so fast as my pursuers, so that they were upon me, continually beating and pushing me, some of them attempting to catch me by the hair-tail: if this had happened, I had been certainly a lost man. I cannot absolutely fix the time and place where I first struck. I remember, somewhere in Panton Street I gave a quick blow to one who beat off my hat with his fist.

'When I was in Oxendon Street, fifteen or sixteen yards from the Haymarket, I stopped, and faced about. My confusion was great, and seeing a shop open, I ran into it for protection, quite spent with fatigue. I am certainly sorry for the man; but he owed his death to his own daring impetuosity. Three then came into the shop, one of them cried to me to surrender myself to him, who was a constable. I asked them if they were honest men, and friends; they said yes. I put up my knife, desired them to arrest me, begged they would send for a coach, and take me to Sir John Fielding.

'I appeal to them how I behaved when I surrendered, and how thankful I was for their kind protection. Sir John heard what I and the men had to say. They sent me into a room below, from whence I dispatched a man to the club in Gerrard Street, when Sir Joshua Reynolds and other gentlemen came to me.

'A messenger was dispatched to the Middlesex hospital, where they said Morgan was carried. A surgeon came, and took his oath that Morgan was in danger. Sir John committed me to Tothill-fields-bridewell. Two gentlemen, as well as the constable, can witness to my behaviour when the coachman lost his way, which forced us to alight in the mire and darkness, in order to find the way to Tothill-fields bridewell. I humbly conceive this will shew I had no intention of escaping. That woeful night I passed without rest.

'My face had been observed to be hurt, while I was at Sir John Fielding's; and the constable was the first who took notice of a blow I had received on my chin. But when the heat and fear had subsided, I found a great pain in divers parts of my body. Mr Molini and Mr Low, being with me, desired me to let them see what was the matter with my back, which I complained of. I stripped, and they saw several bruises.

'This, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, is the best account I can give of my unfortunate accident: for what is done in two or three minutes, in fear and terror, is not to be minutely described; and the court and the jury are to judge. I hope your lordship, and every person present, will think that a man of my age, character, and way of life, would not spontaneously quit my pen, to engage in an outrageous tumult. I hope it will easily be conceived that a man almost blind could not but be seized with terror on such a sudden attack as this. I hope it will be seen that my knife was neither a weapon of offence or defence; I wear it to carve fruit and sweatmeats, and not to kill my fellow-creatures.

'It is a general custom in France not to put knives upon the table, so that even ladies wear them in their pockets for general use. I have continued to wear it after my return, because I have found it occasionally convenient. Little did I think such an event would ever have happened. Let this trial turn out as favourable as my innocence may deserve, still my regret will endure as long as life shall last.

'A man who has lived full fifty years, and spent most of that time in a studious manner, I hope, will not be supposed to have voluntarily engaged in so desperate an affair. I beg leave, my lord and gentlemen, to add one thing more. Equally confident of my own innocence, and English discernment to trace out truth, I did resolve to waive the privilege granted to foreigners by the laws of this kingdom: nor was my motive a compliment to this nation: my motive was my life and honour; that it should not be thought I received undeserved favour from a jury, part my own country. I chose to be tried by a jury of this country; for, if my honour is not saved, I cannot much wish for the preservation of my life. I will wait for the determination of this awful court with that confidence, I hope, which inno cence has a right to obtain. So God bless you all.'

Several gentlemen now appeared in behalf of Mr Baretti; among whom, Mr Lambert proved that he had received a blow, that his hat was lost, and that his face was swelled.

Mr Molini swore that, on the day after the affray, he had observed a swelling on Mr Baretti's cheek, and several bruises on his back and shoulder; and Mr Low deposed, that, when he visited Mr Baretti in prison, he had seen six or seven bruises on different parts of his body.

Justice Kelynge, major Alderton, and Mr Petrin, deposed, that some abandoned women, attended by bullies, had severally attacked them in an indelicate way in the Haymarket.

To the character of Mr Baretti appeared Sir Joshua Reynolds, doctor Johnson, Mr Fitzherbert, and Edmund Burke, esquire, all of whom represented him as a man of benevolence, sobriety, modesty, and learning. The honourable Mr Beauclerk, Mr Garrick, and Mr Molini, all confirmed this testimony, adding, thatpersons who travel in foreign countries are accustomed to carry such knives as that which had been unhappily made use of by the prisoner.

After considering the whole matter, the jury acquitted Mr Baretti of murder and manslaughter, and gave a verdict of 'Self-defence.'

This case of Mr Baretti may be deemed one of the extraordinary kind. It seems evident, from the depositions made on his trial, and from the substance of his defence, that he had been assaulted by people of abandoned character; but the question is, whether he had a right to defend himself with such a weapon as he made use of; however, we shall not presume to decide on this question, as the jury solemnly determined that he had, by the verdict they gave.

Mr Baretti's character was of the utmost service to him on this solemn occasion. His learning, his connexions, his disposition, were all of the highest importance to him; and though the alledged crime was no less than murder, we well remember that he was bailed by four gentlemen of distinguished character; so that he did not lay in Newgate even a single hour.

His generous refusal to accept of the usual favour of being tried by a jury composed of an equal number of foreigners with Englishmen, furnishes an admirable proof of his disdain of taking any advantage; nor is it a small presumptive proof of his innocence: and his declaration that his regret would endure as long as life should last, though the trial should turn out as favourably as innocence might deserve, is greatly in favour of his humanity: and indeed no man of liberal feelings can have been even the accidental occasion of the death of a fellow creature, without sincerely lamenting the misfortune.

The people of this country may wonder that Mr Baretti, an Italian by birth, should make his defence in such correct English: but it is to be remembered, that he had lived long among us, had studied our language with critical attention, and wrote it with a degree of purity scarce ever equalled by a Foreigner; to whom the English language, of all others, is said to be the most difficult of acquisition.

Upon the whole, this inference should be drawn from the present case:-- those who would consult their own safety should avoid giving offence to others in the streets. The casual passenger has, at least, a right to pass unmolested; and he or she that may insult him cannot deserve pity, whatever consequences may follow.

Foreign gentlemen, however, should consider, that the best method of escaping the fury of a mob is to take shelter in the first house they may see open: there are few people who could be so hard of heart as not to afford them protec tion; and we must think, for the honour of our country, that the generality would protect them against their assailants.

The number of abandoned women, who infest the streets of the metropolis every evening, are in some measure to be pitied; but, when they add insult to indecent application, they ought to be punished with the utmost severity. But what must those men think of themselves, whose seductive arts have reduced women to a state so deplorable? If they have any sensibility left, horror and remorse must seize their minds: yet, however great their sufferings, they are not deserving of pity.― Violators of all the laws of honour, they have no claim to our compassion!

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1770

14: James Attaway and Richard Bailey

Executed at Tyburn, 4th of July, 1770, for committing a Burglary after tying up the Butler

THE crime for which these men so justly suffered was committed in a manner most artful and daring. About nine o'clock one evening they went to the house of Thomas Le Merr, Esq., in Bedford Row, London, a public and genteel street. They had received information that Mr Le Merr was in the country. On their knocking at the door it was opened by a footman, to whom Bailey delivered a letter, saying that it was for his master. Before the servant could answer, Attaway, another daring ruffian who had escaped justice, rushed in, shut the street door, and stabbed him in the belly with a dagger. They then drew cords from their pockets, tied the bleeding man's hands behind his back, and dragged him downstairs into the kitchen, unloosed his hands, and ordered him to light a candle, though, being summer, it was not dark. This done, regardless of his wound, which he begged time to bind up, they again tied his hands behind him, bringing the rope first about his neck, and then across his face in such a manner that it went through his mouth, which it kept open, and then made it fast behind. Thus bound, they dragged him into a cellar and bolted the door.

In a few minutes one of the villains returned and asked him if he was fast. Being answered, as well as the poor man could speak, that he was secure enough, they broke open the pantry, where the plate chest was kept, forced the lock, and deliberately packed up its contents.

In the meantime the bound man gnawed the rope in his mouth, and soon liberated himself. He then forced open the door which confined him and got into the area, over which was a skylight; and, apprehensive that he was bleeding to death, he made an effort to climb up a pipe to get through it and give an alarm. Making a last exertion he succeeded, and, dragging the rope after him, got to the stables behind the house, and called for help as loudly as his almost exhausted strength would permit. Five or six grooms immediately came to his assistance, and seized the robbers as they were coming out of the house, thus fortunately saving the poor fellow's life and Mr Le Merr's property.

On this evidence the two men were found guilty, and were hanged at Tyburn, on the 4th of July, 1770.

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15: Peter Conway and Michael Richardson

Executed at Tyburn, 19th of July, 1770, for a Murder which was their first Essay in Crime

THESE men were two of a gang who had associated themselves for the purpose of plunder, and in their very first attempt committed murder; at which they were so terrified that they fled without rifling the pockets of the deceased.

On Saturday,the 26th of May, 1770, Richardson, Conway, and two men, named Jackson and Fox, went to the shop of Mr Robert Dun, in Prince's Square, near Ratcliff Highway, and purchased a pair of pistols. The above-mentioned Jackson was afterwards an evidence against his accomplices, but we do not learn that Fox was ever taken into custody.

Having purchased the pistols, they left them at the house of an acquaintance, named Thomas; after which they all went to the lodgings of Conway, where they spent the night. On the succeeding day (Sunday) they took a coach to Whitechapel, where they continued drinking till the dusk of the evening, when they went to Thomas's house for the pistols. Being unprovided with balls, they remained for a while in consultation what to substitute in their stead; and at length they cut a pewter spoon in pieces and loaded their pistols. This being done, Conway and Richardson went together, and the other two accompanied them, but at a short distance, that they might not appear to be a gang of ruffians. They met a gentleman's servant, whom they stopped; but, as he had no money, he was permitted to pass without further molestation.

It happened that, in the afternoon, Mr Venables, a butcher in Whitechapel, had been walking to Stepney with his neighbour, Mr Rogers, a carpenter, and they were returning to town when they were met by the villains above mentioned, a few minutes after they had parted from the gentleman's servant.  Mr Venables and Mr Rogers had the appearance of men  from whom a considerable booty might be expected; whereupon Conway stopped the former and demanded his money. Instead of delivering it, Mr Venables, who was a robust man, twice knocked down Richardson and Fox; and they had no sooner recovered their legs than Richardson and Conway immediately fired their pistols, and the two unoffending passengers were killed on the spot. The villains hurried away towards Stepney, whence they went to Ratcliff Highway, and thence to Wapping, where they stopped a man and robbed him of eighteen shillings and his watch.

The bodies of the deceased were found in the road and conveyed to the watch-house, and a surgeon was sent for, who examined the wounds, and found that they had been made by pieces of pewter. On the following Wednesday Jackson was apprehended on suspicion of having been concerned in the commission of the murders. On his examination he gave information who were his accomplices; on which he was admitted an evidence for the Crown. A few days after Jackson was taken into custody Conway went to the shop of Mr Burtman, a pawnbroker in Jermyn Street, where he offered a watch in pledge. An advertisement in the newspaper describing the person of Conway having been read by Mr Burtman, the latter imagined that he was the man thus described; on which he gave a hint to one of his servants to sit by Conway while he (Burtman) examined the watch.

The servant, apprehending danger, whispered to his master that it was probable he had pistols in his possession. On which a person was sent out to request the attendance of the neighbours, with a view to prevent mischief. In the interim Conway, remarking that they whispered together, begged permission to retire to the vault, which he was readily allowed to do; but on his return he was taken into custody, and a coach was called to convey him to Sir John Fielding's office in Bow Street. When he was brought to the house of the magistrate he was confronted with Jackson, when they mutually endeavoured to incriminate each other; but the circumstances against Conway were so very suspicious that Sir John Fielding did not hesitate to commit him to Newgate.

Richardson was likewise apprehended within five days after this commitment, and taken to Bow Street for examination, when the charge against him was so very strong that he was likewise committed to Newgate. At the next sessions at the Old Bailey the jury did not hesitate to convict them, and they were condemned to die.

After execution their bodies were cut down and conveyed to Bow Common, where they were put in chains and hung on a gibbet. More than fifty thousand visited the spot within the first five days. On Sunday, particularly, the place resembled a crowded fair; and many people made money by selling liquors and other provisions to the assembled multitudes.

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1771

16: Captain David Ferguson

Hanged in chains at Execution Dock, 5th January 1771, for the murder of his cabin-boy.

AT the Admiralty sessions, held at the Old Bailey, on the 17th of December, 1770, David Ferguson, master of the merchant-ship Betsey, was tried for the murder of his cabin-boy, a lad about thirteen years of age, during his voyage from Virginia to Antigua.

It appeared that four of Captain Ferguson's crew died, and he was charged with the murder of them all. On one of these alleged crimes he was tried in Virginia, and acquitted.

Lord Bortelot, the then governor of that colony, transmitted the proceedings of the Court to the secretary of state for foreign affairs in London, with a favourable opinion thereon.

Though we have had too frequent occasion, in the course of this work, to state the wanton exercise of that power necessarily given to commanders at sea, yet we also know that the crew are too often ready to construe necessary correction into cruelty; and, should any of the hands corrected by the captain die, even by accident, or the common course of nature, they are sure to aggravate the affair, and persecute their commander.

The ship Betsey sailed from the Capes of Virginia in the depth of winter, when the cold is intense to a degree, of which Englishmen have hardly a conception. Heavy gales of wind and long falls of snow succeed each other, day after day. The shrouds and rigging are incrusted with ice, and they often snap from the tension thereby occasioned. The masts, thus deprived of their principal support, are often ready to fall by the board, while the deck is deeply covered with snow.

(Note: A shocking instance of the sad effects of these sudden snow storms, on the coast of America, happened to the officers of the Assistance man of war, lying off Sandy-Hook, near New York, in the year 1784. Six Seamen of that ship confederated to desert, jumped into the yawl, and pushed off from the ship towards the shore, Another boat was got ready for a pursuit, and was manned by the first lieutenant, eleven other officers, and one seaman. Before they could come up with the deserters, a snow storm came on, which, as is often the case, so overpowered them, and so darkened the horizon, that they lost sight both of the yawl and the ship, and were all, except one, next morning found dead on the beach, near Middleton Point, in New Jersey, most of them sticking in the mud.)

In such cases seamen do their duty with much reluctance; and, when their extravagance in harbour has deprived them of the means of laying in an allowance of brandy and tobacco, they grow clamorous to their captain for those indispensable articles, with which he is not bound to supply them; in fact, he generally provides little more than may serve himself.

Captain Ferguson's crew, thus situated, were often remiss in their duty; and, on several occasions, his utmost exertions were called upon for the safety of his ship; but that he exceeded the bounds of moderation must be admitted, from his conviction by an English jury of the murder of his cabin-boy.

Perhaps the severity of the season, the crew being unprovided with liquor, and also without sufficient warm clothing, contributed more to the death of the remaining three that perished than correction. The survivors imputed the murder of them all to the cruelty of their captain.

To come to the charge on which he was convicted: it was proved that he had frequently beat the boy in a manner far too severe for his tender years to bear; and that he had knocked him down, and then stamped upon him. After this barbarous usage he confined him almost an hour upon deck, to the weather-side of his long- boat, when the weather was so severe that snow covered the deck, and the shrouds were snapping. That he again pushed him down, and trod upon him with both his feet.

The seamen said that the boy provoked this punishment by coming upon deck with only one stocking on. The sufferer did not make complaint of the effects of his usage until eleven o'clock at night; and the next day he fell into the hold, and was missing five hours. He was found dead upon the ballast.

In his defence Captain Ferguson proved the distress his ship was in from the weather, and the refractory spirit of the crew, several of whom he was obliged to force to their duty.

On the passage of the Betsey home to England, Major Watson and Captain Lilly, who were passengers, proved that she was wrecked on the coast of Sussex; and that it was owing to the resolution and good conduct of Captain Ferguson that they, together with the crew, were saved. It also appeared that many vessels at sea with the Betsey, on the coast of America, had several of their crews frost-bitten, which turning to gangrene, they died. The inference attempted to be made was that the frost had killed the cabin-boy.

Several respectable merchants gave the prisoner a good character for integrity and humanity; but the jury found him guilty, and sentence of death was passed upon him accordingly.

Considerable interest was made to obtain the royal mercy, and (a circumstance seldom granted to murderers, and then only when some doubts arise in the minds of the privy council on the case) he received a respite.

On the 4th of January, 1771, eighteen days after conviction, the warrant arrived for his execution; and the next day, attended by the marshal of the Admiralty, carrying a silver oar, he was carried from Newgate to Execution Dock, and there hanged.

His body was hung in chains upon the marshes of the river Thames.

Thus perished Captain David Ferguson, a victim to his ungovernable passion, in the twenty-sixth year of his age.

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17: Peter M'Cloud

Hanged for Housebreaking, on 27th of May, 1771, before he had attained the Age of Sixteen

THIS ill-fated youth was the son of a poor man at Shields, near Newcastle, who brought him to London while he was quite a child. His father dying in a short time, the boy was left to the care or, perhaps, more properly speaking, to the neglect of his mother, who was a woman of very doubtful character, and was said to encourage young lads in the practice of theft.

M'Cloud had been connected with a lad named Younger, who had been concerned with him in a variety of irregular practices. At length M'Cloud engaged himself on board one of the colliers trading to Newcastle; and, while he was absent, Younger accused his mother of having been the receiver of stolen goods, the consequence of which was that she was apprehended, and brought to trial, but was discharged in defect of evidence.

When M'Cloud returned from his voyage, and learned in what manner his mother had been treated by Younger, he made the most solemn vow of taking vengeance on him, whatever might be the consequence of such a procceding.

That he might effect the ruin of his old companion in iniquity he surrendered himself to a magistrate, and gave information that he and Younger had been concerned in a robbery; on which the latter was soon taken into custody, and committed to Newgate, M'Cloud being admitted an evidence for the Crown against his presumed accomplice. But at the ensuing sessions M'Cloud was incapable of giving anything like evidence against his companion, who was of course acquitted, and the scheme of revenge was consequently frustrated.

It is no less astonishing than true that, notwithstanding what had passed, these young fellows soon renewed their former connection; so that whatever degree of malice might have harboured in the breast of M'Cloud, he seemed to have forgotten it in the wish to recommence his depredations on the public with his former accomplice in iniquity.

They now joined, with five or six other boys, in the practice of picking pockets, in which, for some time, they met with too much success; but their thefts were of the lowest kind, being principally confined to the stealing of handkerchiefs, in the practice of which they were frequently detected, but dismissed after receiving the discipline of the horse-pond. M'Cloud, in particular, had been so often dragged through horse-ponds, and exposed to the derision of the public, that he seemed to have lost all sense of shame, and his paltry gains by theft consoled him for the ignominy that attended it. He was three times tried at the Old Bailey for different offences, and had repeatedly the good fortune to escape.

At length, after a series of lessons in the picking of pockets, the gang of young villains determined to commence housebreaking, for which they were qualified not so much by their strength as by their artifice. They furnished themselves with a variety of tools proper for the wrenching of doors and window-shutters. Occasionally they would climb over roofs, enter at the garret windows of houses, and descend to the lower rooms to commit their robberies; and at other times they would enter through any small opening that had been casually left unguarded.

At length three of the gang, of whom M'Cloud was one, repaired to Poplar, where they broke open the house of Joseph Hankey, Esq., in the dead of night. The family were all asleep; but the barking of a dog awoke one of the servants, who alarmed the rest, and begged them to oppose the intruders. Two of the thieves made an immediate escape, but M'Cloud was apprehended, and lodged in the watch-house.

On the following day he was carried before a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate, and at the next sessions held at the Old Bailey he was brought to trial, capitally convicted, and sentenced to die.

When he arrived at the fatal tree he requested a person to beg that his mother would not unreasonably grieve at his death, as he had hopes that he was departing to the regions of eternal glory. He suffered at Tyburn, on the 27th of May, 1771, in the sixteenth year of his age.

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18: John Eyre, Esq.

Transported, in 1771, for stealing Paper out of the Guildhall of the City of London

JOHN EYRE was convicted at the Old Bailey for stealing paper out of the Guildhall.

On the 1st of September, 1771, this unfortunate gentleman, who was possessed of considerable property, surrendered himself to take his trial for that offence, to which he pleaded guilty, and was immediately put into the bail- dock with other prisoners.

The recorder observed to his solicitor that he was unacquainted with his motive for using such a plea; but if anything was designed to be urged to the Court to soften his offence, he desired it might then be done, while there was a full court. The solicitor replied that his client meant nothing more than to throw himself upon the mercy of the Court.

He was instantly convicted, and sentenced to transportation.

On the 23rd of the same month one hundred and twenty prisoners, who had received a similar sentence, were conveyed on board a vessel bound for Virginia. Among them was Mr Eyre, who was indulged with a coach.

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19: Dr Levi Weil, Asher Weil, Jacob Lazarus And Solomon Porter

A Gang of Robbers who committed Murder, and were executed at

Tyburn, 9th of December, 1771

THIS daring violation of the law, which long roused the public indignation against the whole Jewish people, happened in the house of Mrs Hutchings, in King's Road, Chelsea, who was a farmer's widow, left by her husband in good circumstances, and with three children, two boys and a girl.

One Saturday evening, just as the Jewish Sabbath was ended, a numerous gang of Jews assembled in Chelsea Fields; and, having lurked about there until ten o'clock, at that hour went to the house of Mrs Hutchings and demanded admittance. The family had all retired to rest, with the exception of Mrs Hutchings and her two female servants, and, being alarmed by the unseasonable request of the applicants, they proceeded in a body to know their business. The door was no sooner opened, however, than a number of fellows -- all of whom had the appearance of Jews -- rushed in, seized the terrified females, and threatened them with instant death in the event of their offering any resistance. Mrs Hutchings, being a woman of considerable muscular strength, for a time opposed them; but her antagonists soon overpowered her, tied her petticoats over her head, and proceeded to secure the servants. The girls having been tied back to back, five of the fellows proceeded to ransack the house, while the remainder of the gang remained below to guard the prisoners.

Having visited the rooms occupied by the children of Mrs Hutchings in turn, the ruffians proceeded to the apartment in which two men, employed as labourers on the farm, named John Slow and William Stone, were lying undisturbed by the outcry which had been raised below. It was soon determined that these men were likely to prove mischievous, and that they must be murdered; and Levi Weil, a Jewish physician, who was one of the party, and was the most sanguinary villain of his gang, aimed a blow at the breast of Stone, intended for his death, but which only stunned him. Slow started up, and the villains cried: "Shoot him! Shoot him!" A pistol was instantly fired at him, and he fell, exclaiming: "Lord have mercy on me! I am murdered!"

They dragged the wounded man out of the room to the head of the stairs; but in the meantime Stone, recovering his senses, jumped out of bed and escaped to the roof of the house, through the window. The thieves now descended and plundered the house of all the plate they could discover, but finding no money they went to Mrs Hutchings, and threatened to murder her if she did not disclose the place of its concealment. She gave them her watch, and was afterwards compelled to give up a purse containing sixty-five pounds, with which they immediately retired. Mrs Hutchings now directly set her female servants at liberty, and, having gone in search of the men, found Slow, who declared he was dying, and then dropped insensible on the floor. He languished until the following afternoon, when he died of the wounds which he had received.

It was a considerable time before the perpetrators of this most diabolical outrage were discovered; but they were at length given up to justice by one of their accomplices, named Isaacs, who was a German Jew, and who, reduced to the greatest necessity, was tempted by the prospect of reward to impeach his fellows. It then turned out that the gang consisted of eight persons, who were headed by the physician before mentioned. Dr Weil had been educated in a superior manner. He had studied physic in the University of Leyden, where he was admitted to the degree of doctor in that faculty. Coming to England, he practised in London, with no inconsiderable degree of success, and was always known by the name of Doctor Weil. But so destitute was he of all principle, and such was the depravity of his heart, that he determined to engage in the dangerous practice of robbery; and, having formed this fatal resolution, he wrote to Amsterdam, to some poor Jews, to come to England and assist him in his intended depredations on the public; and at the same time informed them that in England large sums were to be acquired by the practice of theft.

The inconsiderate men no sooner received Dr Weil's letter than they procured a passport from the English consul, and, embarking in the Harwich packet-boat, arrived in England.

They lost no time in repairing to London, and, immediately attending Dr Weil, he informed them that his plan was that they should go out in the daytime and minutely survey such houses near London as might probably afford a good booty, and then attack them at night.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in the month of December, 1771, Levi Weil, Asher Weil, Marcus Hartagh, Jacob Lazarus, Solomon Porter and Lazarus Harry were indicted for the felony and murder above mentioned, when the two of the name of Weil, with Jacob Lazarus and Solomon Porter, were capitally convicted; while Marcus Hartagh and Lazarus Harry were acquitted, for want of evidence.

The men, as is customary in all cases of murder, when it can be made convenient to the Court, were tried on a Friday, and on the following day they were anathematised in the synagogue. As their execution was to take place on the Monday following, one of the rabbis went to them in the press-yard of Newgate and delivered to each of them a Hebrew book; but declined attending them to the place of death, nor even prayed with them at the time of his visit.

They were attended to Tyburn, the place of execution, by immense crowds of people, who were anxious to witness the exit of wretches whose crimes had been so much the object of public notice. Having prayed together, and sung a hymn in the Hebrew language, they were launched into eternity, on the 9th of December, 1771.

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1772

20: Henry Jones, Francis Phoenix and Charles Burton

Executed at Tyburn, 3rd of February, 1772, for Burglary at the

House of Sir Robert Ladbroke, a City Banker

THIS was a daring robbery, committed by breaking into the house of Sir Robert Ladbroke, an alderman and banker, in the City of London.

Notwithstanding the precautions taken by bankers against robbers, and particularly housebreakers, we have many instances of men being hardy enough to break into their strong-rooms and therefrom steal cash, silver-plate, or whatever valuables might have been therein deposited. The plunder to which bankers were further liable was from knavish clerks running off with large sums which they were in the daily habit of collecting. But their profits being enormous, and without risk (for surely those who cannot take care of their own money ought to pay those handsomely who keep it safe for them), they still made immense fortunes.

Mr Child, the celebrated banker at Temple Bar, would not give his consent to his daughter marrying the Earl of Westmorland; and actually pursued the young couple in their flight to Gretna Green, solely because the purse-proud parent had a fortune to portion her to a duke.

In the year 1755 the cashier of a bank in Dublin, kept by a Quaker, ran off with no less a sum than eighty-four thousand pounds of their money, which caused business there to be at a standstill, other houses failing with the loss. He was apprehended, and lodged at Mr Sheriff Crampton's and only twenty-four thousand pounds was found upon him. Enormous as this robbery was, capital punishment could not reach him; it was, by the law, held merely a breach of trust.

The daring gang, the immediate subjects of the case before us, on the night of the 20th of December, 1771, with iron crowbars wrenched open the doors of the house of Sir Robert Ladbroke, on St Peter's Hill, and though the whole family were in bed, and five men-servants in the house, yet the villains effected their purpose, and escaped undiscovered.

The articles which at the time were advertised to have been stolen on this occasion were:

Sir Robert's gold chain, the insignia of his office, as alderman of London: worth £100

An alderman's wife's gold chain: £80

Several pieces of plate: £100

A coronation medal, a broad 25s. piece, a guinea of the coin of Oliver Cromwell, a guinea of the coin of George I. and other pieces: £40

In old crown-pieces: about £15

Two gold snuff-boxes: £20

A brilliant breast-buckle: £25

A diamond hoop-ring: £20

A pair of valuable Morocco studs: £10

A pair of cluster-stone buttons: £10

And other articles, at a small computation: £30

Total: £450

The robbers, finding this large booty in the apartment they first broke open, appear to have been satisfied, for they searched no other part of the house. A silver-hilted sword, which hung in the room, was not carried off, though it was taken down and laid upon a chair. An iron crow was found next morning in the passage.

Though Sir Robert and his whole family slept so sound as not to hear what was going on below them, a gentleman living at the next house was alarmed by a noise, which he fancied arose from the wrenching open of a door and breaking into a house. He sprang out of bed, seized a blunder-buss, and threw open his window. Observing a watchman standing on the other side of the way, he asked him if he had not heard a disturbance. The treacherous guardian of the night answered that it was nothing but the wind, for everything was safe in that quarter.

The gentleman then asked him why he did not cry the hour, as the clock had some time struck; to which the watchman replied that he had called it, and, on being contradicted, went surlily away.

A short time after this another watchman, in passing, saw that Sir Robert Ladbroke's house had been broken open, and immediately gave the alarm; but the robbers had decamped.

In the morning the first watchman was sent for, but he was nowhere to be found ― in fact, he was privy to the villainy; and by such wicked connivance many robberies were accomplished which could not have been effected if watchmen had been honest and done their duty.

The villains melted the gold articles; and on their trial a dispute arose between Sir Robert Ladbroke, the loser of the gold, which had been cast into an ingot, and Mr Cox, the purchaser. The latter urged that he had bought it in the face of day, in an open shop, and at a fair price; while Sir Robert insisted on a prior claim, of which he had been violently deprived.

The Court were inclined to favour Sir Robert, who, finding this, offered it as a favour to Mr Cox; but he disclaimed all favour, standing up for his right to the ingot, and then put it into his pocket. Thus he may be said to have very wisely "pocketed the affront." The thieves were carried to Tyburn, and executed, on the 3rd of February, 1772.

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21: James Bolland

A Sheriff Officer, and a most unconscionable Villain, executed at Tyburn, 18th of March, 1772, for Forgery

JAMES BOLLAND was the son of a butcher. The youth gave early proofs of a profligate turn of mind, and constantly associated with worthless people of both sexes. The term of his servitude being expired, Bolland opened a shop in the borough of Southwark, and his business afforded him a very favourable prospect of success; but through his irregularity and extravagance his trade gradually declined, and, to free himself from some embarrassments which his misconduct had produced, he sold his effects. Bolland's favourite associates for some years had been bailiffs, bailiffs' followers, thief-takers, and runners to the different prisons; and, the natural cruelty of his disposition being encouraged by the example of the worthless people in whose company he spent the greatest part of his time, he resolved to gain a maintenance by preying upon the distresses of his fellow- creatures.

Having procured himself to be appointed one of the officers to the sheriff of the county of Surrey, he hired a house at the bottom of Falcon Court, facing St George's Church, Southwark; and, having fitted it up in the manner of a prison, it was soon inhabited by a number of unfortunate persons. The people he arrested who were in indigent circumstances he took to jail as soon as the law would permit, but such as were in a different situation were entertained in his house till all their money was spent, or till they insisted upon going to prison to avoid further imposition, or till the writs by which they were detained became returnable. The money he extorted from his guests by divers stratagems was so considerable that he held the fees usually paid at lock-up houses as almost beneath his regard, and frequently distributed them among his followers and other servants.

Bolland was continually endeavouring to encourage card-playing in his house; and when his unfortunate guests had recourse to that diversion he seldom failed to join in the game; and though e suffered no opportunity of cheating them, even in the most palpable manner, to escape him, they were obliged to submit to the insult and imposition; for if they ventured to expostulate on the unfairness of his proceedings it was his custom to discharge a volley of blasphemous oaths, and to threaten that he would instantly take them to jail for daring to affront him in his own house.

Though the emoluments arising from the infamous practices of Bolland were very considerable, they were not equal to the expenses of his profligate course of life, and he procured a person to issue out a commission of bankruptcy against him; but before the commission took place he secreted his most valuable effects. He further defrauded his creditors by giving notes and other securities to a number of people who had received no valuable considerations from him; and by means of these nominal creditors he obtained his certificate in a very short time.

The infamous practices of Bolland had now rendered his character so notorious that the attorneys imagined that if they continued to employ him they should be reflected upon for encouraging so abandoned a villain; and such repeated and heavy complaints were made against him that his business rapidly declined. But instead of endeavouring to obtain better success by an amendment of his conduct he seized every opportunity of practising extortion and fraud with greater rapacity, and became a still more abominable pest to society.

Bolland was an almost daily frequenter of places where billiards and other games were practised; and at one of these meetings he fell into company with a gentleman who employed him to arrest the captain of a ship in the East India service for a debt of three hundred pounds, and promised him a handsome compliment on condition that he recovered the money, or took the prisoner into custody. The following morning the gentleman set out for the country, and in the course of the day Bolland arrested the captain, who immediately paid the debt, and costs.

In a short time the captain proceeded on his voyage, and the gentleman at whose suit he had been arrested returned to London soon afterwards. Bolland waited upon him, and said that, though he had made use of every stratagem he could possibly devise, the captain had eluded all his art, and got to sea; and in order to enhance the promised gratuity he pretended that his extraordinary vigilance to serve the writ had involved him in much trouble, and some expense, and the gentleman, being thus deceived, made Bolland a handsome present.

Upon the return of the ship from the East Indies another writ was taken out; but, Bolland having gone to a horse race, it was given to another officer. The bailiff went to Blackwall, and presently found the captain, and said he must either pay the three hundred pounds or go with him to a place of security. But when the captain showed the officer Bolland's receipt for the money he returned to town and informed his employer that the debt was discharged to Bolland previous to the captain's sailing for India.

A suit at law was now instituted against Bolland for the recovery of three hundred pounds. Justice was so indisputably clear on the side of the plaintiff that Bolland knew he must inevitably be cast if the matter came to trial; yet, at a considerable expense, he protracted a judicial decision of the case, imagining his adversary would give up his claim rather than pursue him through all the delays and chicanery of the law.

The cause at length was brought to a hearing, and judgment was pronounced in favour of the plaintiff. Bolland, being surrendered by his bail, was taken in execution. He was conducted to a lock-up house, where he remained some time, and then moved himself by habeas corpus to the Fleet Prison, from which place he was released by virtue of an Act of Insolvency.

Bolland and a person with whom he had contracted an acquaintance in the Fleet were enlarged nearly at the same time; and the latter soon after went into business, and found means to procure bondsmen for his companion, who was again appointed an officer to the Sheriff of Middlesex. Bolland now hired a large house in Great Shire Lane, near Temple Bar, but, that the outward appearance might not convey an intimation of the service and tyrannical treatment that was to be exercised within, the windows were not, according to the general custom with spunging-houses, secured with iron bars.

When prisoners came into the house, he informed them that it was his custom to charge six shillings per day for board and lodging; adding that the entertainment would be such as should give universal satisfaction, and that all trouble and disagreements concerning reckonings would be avoided; and such as refused to comply with the exorbitant terms were instantly conducted to jail. When Bolland's prisoners appeared inclined to remove to the King's Bench or Fleet he used every artifice he could suggest fordetaining them in his house till they had exhausted the means of supplying his extravagant avarice; but when their money was expended no entreaties could prevail on the merciless villain to give them credit for the most trifling article, or to suffer them to continue another hour in his house.

He also defrauded a great number of tradesmen of property to a considerable amount, and among them was an upholsterer, of whom he obtained household furniture to the value of two hundred pounds, under false pretences.

Though Bolland was a married man, he was violently addicted to the company of abandoned women; and when his wife expostulated on the impropriety of his illicit connections he applied to her the most disgraceful epithets, accompanied with volleys of profane oaths, and frequently beat her in a barbarous manner. His conversation proved the vulgarity of his breeding, and his whole behaviour marked him as a worthless and detestable character.

A young gentleman whose imprudences had drawn upon him the displeasure of his friends was arrested at the suit  of his tailor, and confined in Bolland's house. His money was soon expended, and despairing of being able to effect a compromise with his creditor he expressed a desire to be moved to the King's Bench or the Fleet. Bolland in formed him that he must be taken to Newgate, that being the jail for the county, and that he could not be moved to either of the other prisons but by means of a writ of habeas corpus.

The young gentleman was greatly alarmed at the idea of being confined in Newgate, which he supposed to be a place for the reception of felons only. Bolland perceived his anxiety, and advised him to recall his resolution, saying that if he would follow his directions a method might still be adopted for relieving him from all his difficulties. Anxious to recover his liberty, the youth said that if Bolland would signify the means by which so desirable a purpose was to be obtained he would gladly embrace the proposal, and ever consider him as his most generous benefactor. Thereupon Bolland informed him that he would immediately procure bail, and then recommended him to different tradesmen, of whom he might obtain a chariot and horses, household furniture and other effects, on credit; adding, that he would find no difficulty in obtaining a fortune by marriage before he would be called upon for the discharge of his debts.

The young man was released on the bail of two of Bolland's accomplices, a chariot was procured, and a house hired and furnished very elegantly; and one of Bolland's followers assumed the character of a footman, from the double motive of assisting in the scheme of villainy and reporting to his principal all the particulars of the conduct of the imprudent young man. Reports were industriously propagated that the youth was heir to an immense fortune; and, by a variety of stratagems, effects to a considerable amount were obtained from different tradesmen, the greater part of which were deposited in Bolland's house, by way of security to him for the bail he had procured. When payment for the furniture and other effects was demanded, the creditors were for some time amused by a variety of plausible pretences; but at length they became exceedingly importunate for their money, and Bolland, now concluding that the young man could no longer be made subservient to his villainous stratagems, surrendered him in discharge of his bail, and caused him to be conveyed to Newgate.

The persons whom he had been seduced to defraud were no sooner acquainted with the imprisonment of the young adventurer than they lodged detainers against him. His unfortunate connections having greatly exasperated his relations and friends, they refused to afford him any kind of assistance, and his situation became truly deplorable. His present distress, and the upbraidings, of conscience for the impropriety of his conduct, overwhelmed him with affliction, which soon put a period to his life.

Bolland, regarding the wreck he had occasioned with apathy, went on in his course of wickedness. He provided fictitious bail for persons who were under arrest, and when he knew that the persons whom he himself had arrested were not in desperate circumstances he frequently released them, after exacting money from them, and the promise to surrender if they could not settle matters with their creditors. He applied to these people to become bail for others, who paid him in proportion to the sums for which they were arrested; and, circumstanced as they were, it was seldom that he met with a refusal, for, upon their making the least hesitation, he threatened to take them into custody and convey them instantly to prison.

He provided genteel apparel for Jews, and other men in desperate circumstances, and encouraged them to commit perjury, by bribing them to swear themselves housekeepers and men of property, in order that their bail might be admitted.

Having supplied two men of most profligate character with genteel clothes, they attended him to Westminster Hall, and there justified bail for sums to a considerable amount, though they were not possessed of property to the value of twenty shillings. After the business these three infamous associates adjourned to a tavern in Covent Garden, and, while they were regaling themselves, some of Sir John Fielding's officers took the two men who had justified bail into custody, on a charge of highway robbery. They were

convicted at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, and soon afterwards Bolland, being a sheriff's officer, attended them to Tyburn, where they were hanged in the very apparel that he himself had provided for them.

A publican in Cecil Street in the Strand, named Wilkinson, went into Lancashire, in the year 1768, upon a visit to his relations, leaving the care of his house to a female servant. Upon the landlord's return he found that two men had taken possession of his household goods and stock of liquors, under a warrant of distress. He asked by what authority they had made a seizure of his effects; and the reply was, that if he presumed to dispute their authority they would knock out his brains, or put him to death in some other manner.

Wilkinson made application to Justice Kynaston, and made

an affidavit that Bolland had no legal claim upon him. A warrant was granted for the recovery of Wilkinson's goods, but before it could be put into execution the greater part of them had been moved from the premises. The following day Bolland caused Wilkinson to be arrested for five hundred and fifty pounds, which was falsely alleged to be a debt he had some time before contracted. The unfortunate Wilkinson, being unable to procure bail for so considerable a sum, moved himself to the King's Bench. The attorney employed by Wilkinson was an accomplice of Bolland, and, under the pretence of defending him against the machinations of that accomplished villain, he extorted from him his last shilling; and after the unhappy man had suffered a long imprisonment, in a most deplorable state of poverty, he was restored to liberty, by virtue of an Act of Insolvency.

A captain in the navy going on a voyage, and leaving his wife insufficiently provided with money, she contracted a debt to the amount of thirty pounds, for which she gave a note. The note not being paid when it became due, the creditor ordered Bolland to serve a writ upon the unhappy woman. After she had remained some days a prisoner in his house he procured bail for her, on her paying him five guineas. In a few days she was again taken into custody, Bolland urging that, upon making inquiry into her affairs, the bail deemed themselves not secure, and had surrendered her from motives of prudence. Terrified at the idea of going to prison she paid him ten guineas to procure bail a second time; but he insisted on having a bond to confess judgment for the furniture of her house, as a collateral security. Being ignorant of the nature of the security proposed, she complied with the terms offered by the villain, who, on the following day, entered upon judgment, and took possession of her effects. When she discovered that she had been made a dupe to the consummate art and villainy of Bolland, the unfortunate woman was driven almost to distraction, and while in that state of mind she attempted to set fire to the house, in consequence of which a warrant was granted to apprehend her, and she was accordingly committed to Newgate. In a short time the husband returned to England, and Bolland bribed an infamous woman to swear a false debt against him, in consequence of which he was arrested, and being in confinement at the time of his wife's trial at the Old Bailey, she was deprived of that assistance he might have afforded her. She was convicted, and sentenced to suffer death; but her cause being espoused by a number of humane persons, they drew up an authentic state of her case, which was presented to the King, who was graciously pleased to grant her an  unconditional pardon.

Bolland was ordered by an attorney in the City to serve a writ on a colonel in his Majesty's service for one hundred pounds, and he arrested the gentleman the next day and was paid the debt and costs; but, instead of delivering the money for the plaintiff's use, he declared that he had not served the writ. The attorney, however, soon learned that the debt was discharged, and commenced a suit against the sheriffs; and the persons who had become sureties for Bolland were compelled to pay the hundred pounds, with full costs.

The colonel had neglected to take Bolland's receipt, and of this circumstance the villain determined to avail himself. He, a second time, arrested the gentleman for one hundred pounds. The action was bailed, and a trial ensued, in the course of which a witness swore that he was present when the colonel paid Bolland one hundred pounds, and costs, in discharge of the writ. Thereupon the jury pronounced in favour of the colonel.

Though Bolland's character was notorious throughout the kingdom, he might, perhaps, have continued his depredations much longer had not his infamous practices been exposed in the newspapers. When the sheriffs were informed of Bolland's villainy they were highly exasperated against him, and suspended him from acting as their officer, and assigned the bail bonds as security, by which the parties he had injured might obtain some recompense.

The office of upper City Marshal becoming vacant by the decease of Osmond Cook, Esq., Bolland determined to dispose of part of his infamously acquired property in the purchase thereof. The place was put up for sale by auction, and he became the purchaser for two thousand, four hundred pounds. Having paid the deposit money, it was lodged in the Chamberlain's office, and he anxiously waited for the approbation of the Court of Aldermen, which was all that was wanted to give him that power over the citizens which he was predetermined to abuse.

A letter was addressed to the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen exhibiting Bolland's character in all its horrid deformity, and on proper inquiries being made the facts appeared to be well founded; in consequence of which the Court of Aldermen refused him the place, and ordered the Chamberlain to return the deposit money.

He declared that he would commence a suit at law against the Court of Aldermen for the recovery of damages; and when the recorder communicated to him the very strong reasons that had induced the Court to deem him unqualified for the place of City Marshal he behaved in a manner extremely reprehensible.

His last crime was forging the endorsement of a bill of exchange for one hundred pounds, for which he was apprehended, and tried at the Old Bailey. His counsel exerted their utmost abilities to prove that he had not committed forgery, but the jury found him guilty of the indictment. When sentence of death had been pronounced against him the recorder pathetically exhorted him to employ the short time he had to live in preparing for eternity.

On the morning of his execution he acknowledged that he had been guilty of innumerable sins, but declared that the fact for which he was to die was not committed with a view to defraud. He was hanged at Tyburn, and his body was taken to Highgate in a hearse, and in the evening carried to an undertaker's in Prince's Street, Drury Lane, whence it was conveyed to Bunhill Fields for interment.

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22: Jonathan Britain

A plausible Rascal, who was executed at Bristol, 15th of May, 1772, for Forgery

JONATHAN BRITAIN was born near Thirsk, in the county of York. His parents were poor people, and not able to give him a liberal education. They sent him to York to an attorney, whom he was to serve as an errand-boy; but he had not been long in this station before his master discovered such uncommon marks of genius and ability in him that he articled him as a clerk, and took him into his office. But an impatience of restraint induced him to leave a master who had behaved to him with so much civility.

He had not, however, been long out of a place when the master of a public academy employed him as a teacher of mathematics, for which his own studies had qualified him; and he was promoted to be principal usher in the school. In this situation he was as restless as in the former, and therefore quitted it, and entered as a soldier in the regiment of the 10th Dragoons.

As he was a man of remarkably fine appearance he was taken great notice of by his officers, who paid such attention to him that it very much flattered his vanity; and, inducing him to rival his superiors in point of expense, his circumstances were soon greatly reduced, and he had recourse to the art of chicane and knavery to support his extravagance. In these reduced circumstances he committed a variety of frauds, most of them of  such artful contrivance as to elude all possibility of detection.

He had a custom of introducing himself into the company of persons who had no suspicion of deceit, and then he would so far insinuate himself into their good opinion as to take undue advantage of their unsuspecting honesty.

Reduced to circumstances of great distress, he was tempted to the commission of forgery. Having forged several drafts, he passed them at Bristol, and then repaired to London, in fear of detection. On his arrival in the metropolis he wrote several letters to the King, intimating that he had been concerned in setting fire to the dockyard at Portsmouth. No regard being paid to these letters to his Majesty, he wrote to the Lord Mayor, declaring that he was ready to surrender himself, and make a discovery of his accomplices, on condition that his pardon should be promised in an advertisement in The London Gazette.

At length a pardon to any accomplice was advertised in the Gazette; on which Britain went to Reading to meet his wife. But on the very evening of his arrival in that town he offered some forged drafts in payment; the consequence of which was that he was apprehended, and lodged in jail. Britain then wrote letters, which he caused to be inserted in some of the newspapers, in which he charged Lord Mansfield and the Earls of Halifax and Faulconbridge, together with other persons of rank, with having been bribed by the Court of France to "encourage the setting fire to the dockyard at Portsmouth."

Improbable as this story was, many people gave a temporary attention to it, and some even affected to believe it; but it was too absurd to obtain credit for any considerable time. At the next assizes for the county of Berks a bill of indictment for forgery was preferred against Britain, but thrown out by the grand jury, on what they considered as defective evidence; and his discharge would have ensued, of course, but that three detainers were lodged against him, which kept him in prison at Reading till he was removed to Bristol by a writ of habeas corpus.

Britain was now visited by numbers of people, who, from motives of curiosity, wished to inquire into the validity of the tale he had invented respecting the fire; but they could make no satisfactory discoveries. They saw that the whole tale was a lie, yet they contributed to his immediate support in a manner so liberal as to do honour to their humanity.

On the commencement of the sessions he was arraigned on several indictments for forgery; but being put to the bar, he refused to plead, and held in his hand the Gazette which contained the offer of pardon, insisting that he had given information against his accomplices who had set fire to the dockyard at Portsmouth.

On this he was informed by the recorder that he could take no notice of the proclamation inserted in the Gazette. But Britain, instead of paying attention to this declaration, threw the Gazette upon the table where the clerk sat, and declared that a scheme was formed to deprive him of life, contrary to the due course of law.

Thereupon the recorder mentioned a late Act of Parliament by which he would be deemed guilty if he refused to plead to the indictment; but the magistrate did not choose to proceed on the trial without being in possession of the Act in question; on which a special messenger was sent to London to procure the Act, if it could be had in print, or otherwise to bring an attested copy of it from the Record Office.

The messenger returned with the Act of Parliament in print at the end of two days, and Britain was again brought to his trial, when he pleaded not guilty to the indictment. The recorder would have allowed him counsel, but he refused all such kind of assistance, and was determined to plead for himself. He cross-examined the witnesses in a manner that gave sufficient testimony of his abilities; but the evidence against him was such as not to admit of a doubt of his guilt, and in consequence he was capitally convicted, and sentenced to die. He was executed on the 15th of May, 1772.

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23: John Adshead And Benjamin Alsworth

Hanged for housebreaking, 8th July, 1772

THE former of these malefactors was a native of Northamptonshire, and trained up to the business of husbandry, which he followed till he approached nearly to manhood, when he repaired to London, and lived in the service of different persons in quality of a footman.

By an attention to the rules of frugality he became possessed of a sum of money, ten guineas of which he gave to a person to instruct him in the art of a gunsmith; and, having acquired the knowledge of the art, he for some time laboured industriously to support himself; but, getting into bad company, he was prevailed on to commence the dangerous practice of housebreaking. Becoming, at length, too well known in London, he was afraid of being discovered, and therefore repaired to Bristol, to commit his depredations in that city.

Soon after he arrived at Bristol he broke into the house of a watchmaker, and carried off effects to the amount of one hundred and fifty pounds. These he conveyed to London, where be disposed of them, and with the produce took a public house in Princes Street, Drury Lane; but, no success attending him in this situation, he quitted business, and recommenced the practice of housebreaking, which ended in his destruction, as will be seen in the course of this narrative.

Alsworth (the other criminal) was a native of Birmingham, and followed the profession of gunmaking. After practising his trade some time, he repaired to London, and, enlisting in the army, became a drummer in the 85th regiment of foot. He served in Portugal during the last war, in the reign of King George II. and was likewise present at the siege of Belle Isle; but when the peace came on be returned to his original profession.

During his military life his behaviour was consistent with his duty. On his return to England he married a young woman, who bore him two children; but, happening to become acquainted with Adshead, his ruin soon followed. These men were frequently in company; and Alsworth, observing that Adshead dressed in a style of gentility which he presumed to be above his circumstances, asked bow he afforded to make such an appearance; to which the other replied, that an uncle, who was lately dead, had left him several articles of considerable value.

Their intimacy now daily increased; and Alsworth's children being indisposed, and himself deficient of employment, he asked the other to lend him three or four guineas, which he would not fail to return on a happier change in his circumstances.

Adshead said that he was not then in possession of so much money; but, if the other would take his advice, he would instruct him how to 'obtain a hundred pounds in an hour.'

Alsworth thought lie spoke jestingly, but begged to know his real meaning; on which the other confessed that he subsisted by housebreaking, and invited his acquaintance to come to his lodgings that evening. This invitation was complied with, a co-partnership in iniquity was agreed on, and they committed several burglaries; but that, of which we are now about to relate the particulars, brought them to their fatal end.

About one o'clock in the morning of the 18th of May, 1772, they broke into the house of Mrs. Bellamy, a widow lady, in Newman Street, Oxford Road, whence they carried off silk, wearing apparel, and other effects, to a considerable amount.

They packed the goods in two parcels, and proceeded towards Tottenham Court Road, where they were observed by two watchmen, who followed them towards Russell Street, Bloomsbury, where they were noticed by another watchman, belonging to the parish of St. Giles, who seized on Alsworth; on which the other threw down his parcel and ran off, but was soon taken into custody.

Being conveyed to the watch-house, they were searched by the constable of the night, who likewise examined the parcels of stolen goods. On the following morning they were carried before Justice Cox, to whom they asserted that the things were their own property, and that they were removing them from their lodgings, to prevent their landlord seizing on them for rent.

This story did not seem to be at all plausible; and, as they refused to give an account of their place of residence, a well-grounded suspicion arose that they were thieves; on which they were committed for re-examination, when the persons who had been robbed could be found.

When Mrs. Bellamy's family arose in the morning, the servants discovered that the house had been robbed, as above mentioned. Hereupon hand-bills were instantly printed, and circulated through London; the consequence of which was that Justice Cox sent for Mrs. Bellamy and her servants, and, the prisoners being brought to a re-examination, the stolen effects were identified, and the two men were committed to Newgate for trial.

(Note: The immediate circulation of hand-bills is the readiest method of detecting thieves. This has been proved in a thousand instances that have occurred at the public office in Bow Street, Thieves generally carry stolen goods immediately to the pawnbrokers; but, when they do not, the bills frequently fall into the hands of peace-officers, and a discovery follows of course.)

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of June, 1772, the prisoners were indicted for breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Mary Bellamy, widow, and stealing a gauze sack and petticoat, with silk and gold flowers, three silk sacks and petticoats, a brocaded silk night-gown, a chased gold outside watchcase, and a variety of other valuable articles, the property of Mrs. Bellamy and her daughter.

Adshead pleaded guilty to the indictment, begging for mercy on account of his youth; and the evidence against his accomplice was so conclusive, that the jury could not hesitate to convict him; in consequence of which they both received sentence of death.

After conviction their behaviour was very various. On some occasions they appeared hardened in a very high degree, and at others were free to confess the crime of which they bad been guilty; but, when they found that their names were included in the warrant for execution, their behaviour was more regular, consistent, and penitent; and the Ordinary of Newgate, forming a favourable opinion of their sincerity, administered the sacrament to them, and gave them such advice as he deemed proper in their unhappy situation; he cautioned them not to trust to their own penitence, but to rely on the merits of Christ for eternal salvation.

On the day appointed for their execution the Ordinary attended them early in the morning, renewed his good advice, and besought them to fix their minds on a better world than that to which they were so soon to bid a final adieu. On being put into the cart they shed many tears, and lifted up their eyes to heaven in the hope of that mercy whence alone, in their situation, it could be expected.

At the fatal tree they confessed that they were guilty of the crime of which they had been convicted, and cautioned their auditors never to be guilty of a similar violation of the laws of justice. An immense concourse of people attended this execution; and, when the bodies had hung the usual time, they were delivered to the friends of the deceased, in order for interment.

John Adshead and Benjamin Alsworth suffered at Tyburn on the 8th of July, 1772.

The reflections arising from the case of these men can but  little deviate from those we have made on that of former housebreakers; but we see that a co-partnership in iniquity is no bar to the inevitable consequences of guilt. Adshead's confession of his crime amounted to little less than an accusation of his accomplice, since they were both taken into custody almost immediately after the commission of the fact.

Upon consideration of the whole matter, it will appear evident that nothing can so effectually secure our peace of mind as a strict adherence to the laws of honesty, and a regular and constant attendance on the duties of religion.

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24: Samuel Roberts and Thomas Bacchus

Hanged for High Treason, in counterfeiting the current Coin of this Realm.

THE first mentioned of these malefactors was a native of Shrewsbury. He was descended of parents of very fair character, but in circumstances rather contracted; however, they gave him what education was in their power, and then apprenticed him to a baker.

After the expiration of the term of his apprenticeship, he repaired to the metropolis, and laboured as a journeyman with different masters for a considerable time, still supporting the character of an industrious and honest man. Some friends, observing the goodness of his disposition, advanced him money, with which he took a shop in Grays Inn-lane, and met with such success in business as rewarded his assiduity.

At length, very unhappily for himself, he became acquainted with the father of Bacchus, from the casual meeting him at a public house. Soon after their acquaintance the old man advised him to remove into Southwark, where he said an excellent house and shop offered for his accommodation. Roberts being married, and having four children, listened to this advice, in the hope of making a better provision for his family.

A very short time after his residence in Southwark, the elder Bacchus and his son, with some other people who were coiners, told Roberts that they would be ready to assist him with money on any emergency. It happened that, some little time afterwards, Roberts wanted some money to make up a bill due for flour, on which he mentioned the affair to the elder Bacchus, and he was immediately furnished with the requisite sum.

This circumstance had not long taken place, when the younger Bacchus informed Roberts that his father was out of town, and begged his assistance in coining, on the condition of which he should be amply supplied with such money as he might want.

Roberts hesitated for a while to comply with a scheme big with such evident destruction; but the prospect of gain becoming at length too strong for his more virtuous resolutions, he fatally consented, and ruin was the consequence. The nature of the partnership, for such it may be deemed, was this: Bacchus was generally the immediate coiner of the counterfeit money, which Roberts put off to unsuspecting people. They had imitated a variety of gold and silver coin, which was so well executed that it could hardly be distinguished from the real money made at the Tower; yet the adulteration was so great, that, in many pieces, the intrinsic value was not a fourth of the nominal.

A great part of this counterfeit money was put off at country fairs, where the agents employed to dispose of it (for there were others besides Roberts) appeared as horse-dealers, and found several country tradesmen ready enough to traffic with them for this false coin.

The coiners used to sell this money by weight to the countrymen, who circulated it in the course of their connexions; so that the evil spread wide, to the injury of many an unfortunate individual.

In the interim Bacchus and Roberts lived in a very handsome manner on the profits of their iniquitous trade. Their neighbours could not conceive how they procured a subsistence; and it is possible that they might have continued their practices a considerable time longer, but that one of their accomplices gave such hints as led to the ready means of detecting them.

Some constables being employed to search the house, they found Bacchus, with all the implements proper for coining, in the act of making counterfeit money, while Roberts was assisting him in this unlawful transaction; on which both the parties were taken into custody, and being carried before Sir John Fielding, that magistrate committed them to Newgate.

It may be now proper to mention that Bacchus was a native of the town of Stafford, and was, at a very early age, initiated into the art of coining by his father, who seems purposely to have trained him to the gallows. The younger Bacchus never followed any business but coining, except occasionally dealing in smuggled goods when he happened to have a considerable sum of money in his possession.

The prisoners remained in Newgate several months before they were brought to trial; but at length they were convicted on the clearest evidence, and sentenced to die.

The behaviour of Roberts after conviction was exceedingly well adapted to his unhappy situation. He was regular and devout in his attendance on religious duties, employed much time in reading books of devotion, and was regardful of the instructions given him by the ordinary of Newgate. On learning that the warrant for his execution was arrived, his seriousness and penitence appeared to be augmented, and he looked forward to eternity in the humble hope of the divine pardon.

Nor was the behaviour of Bacchus less regular, penitent, and devout. He made a decent preparation for his approach ing death. The father of Bacchus had retired into the country, whence he sent his son a letter after condemnation, of which the following is a copy:

'My dear Child,

'I send you these few lines to comfort you; I should have sent you some money before, but I hope, my dear child, you will forgive me, as you hope to be forgiven in heaven. There you will find a better father than you have found in me. Be as happy as you can; -- you are going to happiness, and leave me behind to be miserable. I hope you will die happy, because you know you are innocent. Thou art now going, I shall soon follow thee. I hope you will meet your dear mother in heaven. As we shall soon part in this world, may my prayers be heard for you in heaven! 'From your loving father till death,

'WILLIAM BACCHUS'

'P.S. My dear love to Roberts; and tell him, if it should be in my power to serve his family, I will, I shall think it a pleasure. May heaven receive you both!'

The unhappy convicts received the holy sacrament on the morning of execution, and behaved in a manner suitable to their calamitous circumstances. They were drawn to the gallows on a sledge, as is usual in the case of coiners. They warned the multitude not to follow their evil example, and acknowledged the justice of that sentence by which they had been condemned to an ignominious death.

After the customary exercises of devotion, the prisoners underwent the final sentence of the law; and when the bodies had hung the usual time, they were delivered to their relations, in order that the bodies might be deposited with the parent earth.

Samuel Roberts and Thomas Bacchus were hanged at Tyburn on the 21st of May, 1772.

There is something singular in the affair before us. We see that the counterfeit money was sold by weight to people in the country, who could be mean enough to make such purchases from avaricious motives, though they must know that their neighbours  would be ultimately defrauded.

The young Bacchus, though a professed coiner, appears to have been in some measure an object of pity. His father had trained him to the business from his early youth: but surely that father ought to be the general object of execration. It is difficult to form an idea of the aggravated guilt of that man who can wilfully train his own child to destruction. The paternal and the filial duty ought to be mutual: a failure on either side is usually fatal to the happiness of one of the parties.

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1773

25: William Griffiths

Executed at Tyburn, 20th of January, 1773, for a  Highway Robbery

THE person robbed in this case was the celebrated and unfortunate Dr Dodd, whom, a few years afterwards, Fate decreed to be hanged at the very spot where Griffiths suffered.

William Griffiths was a native of Shropshire, and followed the business of husbandry till he had attained his eighteenth year, when he engaged in a naval life, and remained nearly three years in the East Indies. The ship was paid off on his return to England, and Griffiths, receiving a considerable sum for wages, spent his money, as sailors too generally do, in no very reputable company, at public-houses in Wapping and adjacent parts.

By his connection with men and women of abandoned character his money was soon spent, and he began to think of going to sea for a supply -- and happy might it have been for him if he had done so -- but David Evans and Timothy Johnson, two of his newly acquired associates, and men of very abandoned character, advised him to be concerned with them in committing robberies on the highway; and this triple association of thieves did actually commit a variety of depredations on the public, treating those they attacked with great inhumanity, but never obtaining anything considerable by their lawless pursuits.

The Rev. Dr Dodd and his lady were returning from a visit they had been making to a gentleman at St Albans, but were detained on the way at Barnet, because a post-chaise could not be immediately procured. Night was hastily approaching when they left Barnet, but they proceeded unmolested till they came near the turnpike at the extremity of Tottenham Court Road, when three men called to the driver of the carriage, and threatened his instant destruction if he did not stop. The post-boy did not hesitate to obey such summons; but no sooner was the carriage stopped than a pistol was fired, the ball from which went through the front glass of the chaise, but did not take any effect to the injury of the parties in it, though it terrified them in a very high degree, as they apprehended that the most fatal consequences might ensue. While the Doctor was waiting at Barnet for the chaise it occurred to him that there might be danger on the road, whereupon he concealed all his money except two guineas, which he put in his purse, with a bill of exchange.

Soon after the pistol was fired, Griffiths opened the door of the chaise; on which the Doctor begged him to behave with civility, on account of the presence of the lady. He then delivered the purse, with its contents, and likewise gave the robber some loose silver. Griffiths, having received the booty, decamped with the utmost precipitation.

Dr Dodd lost no time in repairing to Sir John Fielding's office, where he and his lad gave so full a description of the person of the principal robber that it was easily conjectured Griffiths must have been the party; but who had been his associates in the business never yet transpired.

In consequence of this information, Griffiths was soon taken into custody. On his examination before Sir John Fielding, Dr Dodd hesitated to swear positively to his person; but Mrs Dodd, who had regarded him with more attention, positively declared on oath that he was the person who had committed the robbery.

Thereupon the magistrate committed Griffiths to Newgate. A bill of indictment was found against him by the grand jury, and he was called down to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, when the jury did not hesitate to find him guilty; in consequence of which he received sentence of death.

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26: George Barrington

A Well-Dressed Pickpocket who "worked" in Churches and the Houses of Parliament, and was convicted on 15th of March, 1773

BARRINGTON was convicted of stealing a watch from a lady in the pit of one of the theatres, and sentenced to labour three years on the Thames. When about a year of the time had expired he procured a petition to be presented to the Court, praying that the remaining part of his sentence might be remitted; and the officers of the Justitia hulk made so favourable a report of his behaviour that, some time after, an order was sent to Mr Campbell for his release.

A few days after Barrington's release he went to St Sepulchre's Church, where Doctor Mylne was to preach a sermon for the benefit of the Society for the Recovery of Persons apparently Drowned. William Payne, a constable, saw him put his hand into a lady's pocket, in the south aisle, and presently after followed him out of the church and took him into custody, near the end of Cock Lane, upon Snow Hill. Having taken the prisoner to St Sepulchre's watch house, and found a gold watch and some other articles in his possession, Payne returned to the church and spoke to the lady whom he had seen the prisoner attempt to rob; and she informed him that she had lost nothing, for, expecting the church to be much crowded, she had taken the precaution of emptying her pockets before leaving her house.

Upon Payne's return to the watch-house a gentleman advised that the prisoner should be more strictly searched. He was desired to take off his hat, and, raising his left arm, he cautiously removed his hat from his head, when a metal watch dropped upon the floor, He was now obliged to pull off the greatest part of his clothes. He wore three pairs of breeches, in one of the pockets of which was found a purse, containing thirteen guineas and a bank-note for ten pounds made payable to himself.

In consequence of an advertisement inserted the next day in the newspapers a Mrs Ironmonger came to Payne's house and described a watch she had lost, and it proved to be that which had been concealed in Barrington's hair and had dropped on the floor when he took off his hat. She attended the examination of the prisoner, and, having sworn that the watch produced by Payne was her property, was bound over to prosecute.

Upon his trial Barrington made a long, artful and plausible defence. He said that, upon leaving the church, he perceived the watch mentioned in the indictment lying upon the ground, and picked it up, intending to advertise it the next day; that he was followed to Snow Hill by Payne and another constable, who apprehended him, and had in all probability seen him pick up the watch. "I reflected," said he, "that how innocently soever I might have obtained the article in question, yet it might cause some censure; and no man would wonder, considering the unhappy predicament I stood in, [alluding to a former conviction] that I should conceal it as much as possible."

The jury having pronounced the prisoner guilty, he addressed the Court, and earnestly supplicated that he might be permitted to enter into his Majesty's service, and promised to discharge his trust with fidelity and attention; or, if he could not be indulged in that request, that his sentence might be banishment for life from his Majesty's dominions. The Court informed him that by an application to the Throne he might obtain a mitigation of his sentence, if his case was attended by such circumstances of extenuation as would justify him in humbly petitioning to be considered as an object of the Royal favour. He requested that the money and bank-note be returned. Thereupon the Court observed that, in consequence of his conviction, the property found on him when he was apprehended became vested in the hands of the sheriffs of the City of London, who had discretionary power either to comply with or reject his request.

He was convicted to labour on the Thames for the space of five years, on Tuesday, the 5th of April, 1778. He was by profession a surgeon; and his education, abilities and address were such as, had they been properly employed, would certainly have introduced him to a genteel competency, and a reputable station in life. He seems to have had a natural taste for dress, in which particular he was never beneath gentility, but frequently bordering upon elegance. His appearance gained him ready admission to the most respectable public assemblies; and he was a frequent visitor in the galleries of both Houses of Parliament.

Count Orlow, the Russian Minister, when in one of the boxes of Drury Lane playhouse, was robbed of a gold snuff box set with diamonds, estimated to be worth an immense sum; and one of the Count's attendants, suspecting Barrington, seized him, and found the snuff-box in his possession. He was examined by Sir John Fielding; but the Count, being in a foreign country, was influenced by motives of delicacy to decline a prosecution.

Some time after the above circumstance a gentleman observed Barrington in the House of Lords, and pointed him out to Philip Quarme, Esq., Deputy Usher of the Black Rod, who insisted upon his immediately quitting the House, assuring him that his attendance in Parliament would, for the future, be dispensed with.

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27: John Lennard

Executed for Rape, 11th August, 1773

A PAIR of such finished villains as Bolland and Lennard can hardly be paralleled. The long course of iniquity of the former we have already exposed; yet, though on the same pursuit, there will be found some variety in the crimes of the latter.

Bolland was a principal in hunting down the miserable― Lennard a follower; and hence their appetites in knavery differed widely in an honest master and his man. Bolland plundered by stratagem― Lennard by force.

Vere, a sheriff's officer, having put an execution into a house of Mr. Brailsford, in Petty France, West minster, he placed Lennard, Graves, and Gay, three of his followers, in possession. On the second floor of this house lodged Miss Boss, a young lady, whom Lennard robbed of that which constitutes the fairest part of the female sex -- her chastity and peace of mind. To enter into the particulars of the evidence given in Court, in proof of the guilt of this umnanly and most atrocious offence, would not meet every eye in its proper sense: we shall, therefore, let the outlines suffice.

On the 15th of June these three ruffians were in possession of the house for the cause above named; and the family were all out, in different pursuits of the means to raise money to redeem their goods, save Miss Boss, who was at work in her own apartment; when Lennard opened the door, and began in a familiar manner to speak to her. At first terror deprived her of utterance; but, finding him proceed to take those liberties which female virtue can never suffer, she resisted, screamed out, seized the villain by the throat, struggled until she was exhausted, and then sunk down, deprived of reason. In this situation, which would have raised the compassion of a brute, he used her in the way that constituted the offence for which he was justly executed.

A neighbour, hearing the cries of the distressed female, and suspecting some foul deed, knocked at the street door, and inquired the cause of the noise; to which Lennard, opening the window, replied that it was only a drunken woman: upon which the inquirer retired.

The three villains, Lennard, Graves, and Gay, were indicted for this cruel outrage; Lennard as the principal, and the others as accessories to the fact; and upon their trial they were all found guilty. Graves and Gay were burnt in the hand and imprisoned; but sentence of death was immediately passed upon Lennard.

Although convicted upon the clearest evidence, this obdurate man denied that he was guilty; and, on the Sunday before he suffered, he received the sacrament from the hands of the Rev. Mr. Temple, and then, in the most solemn manner, declared to that gentleman that he was entirely innocent of the fact for which he was to die; that he hd been repeatedly intimate with Miss Boss, with her own consent; and that all the reason he could conjecture for her prosecuting him was, that he had communicated this matter to Graves, one of the other followers, who availed himself of the secret, and found means to get into the young lady's room, and who really perpetrated the fact with which she had falsely accused Lennard.

In this story he persisted all the time be remained in Newgate; but Mr. Temple, suspecting his veracity, delivered a paper to Mr. Toll, another gentleman who usually administered spiritual comfort to the malefactors in their last moments, in which be requested him to ask Lennard about those two assertions before he was turned off.

This request Mr. Toll and his colleague punctually complied with, and the unhappy man then acknowledged that he had taken the sacrament to an absolute falsehood; that there was not a word of truth in his impeaching Miss Boss, but that he alone abused her; that he was taught in Newgate to believe that the falsehood might do him service; that be found his mistake too late, and all the atonement he could make was to acknowledge the truth before he left the world, and to beg pardon of God for having acted in so atrocious a manner.

All the charity which can be accorded to the fate of this most wretched man is to hope that his last confession and repentance were sincere, and that they might reach the throne of grace.

With Lennard, on the 11th of August, 1713, suffered the following malefactors at Tyburn― William Eames, for uttering a bank-note of forty pounds, knowing it to be forged; Thomas Younger and Thomas Green, for a burglary in the house of Mrs. Mortimer, milliner, in Gravel Lane, Ratcliffe Highway; Joseph Holmes and Maurice Murry, for a burglary in the house of John Wiley, in Crown Court, Whitecross Street; and Thomas Plunket, for robbing Mr. Dudley on the highway.

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28: William Field alias Green

Executed on Kennington Common, 1st of September, 1773, for

Highway Robbery

WILLIAM FIELD had been a gentleman's livery servant, and had been turned out of several places for his irregularities. At length the badness of his character prevented any gentleman from taking him into his house. The highway being the general recourse of discharged footmen, Field commenced as a highwayman.

To the pert insolence of a footman he added the daring impulse of desperation as a highwayman. While in service he had made a large acquaintance with ostlers, jockeys and post-boys. He therefore found no difficulty in borrowing horses to carry him through his depredations, and he gained information of travellers of property from the gang who had long been his comrades.

One of the most daring attempts at robbery was upon the late celebrated Colonel Luttrell, brother to the late Duchess of Cumberland, and another gentleman, whom he stopped near Gunsbury House. The Colonel immediately fired a pistol, without effect, at the highwayman, who in return presented one at the traveller; but from its having been some time loaded it would not go off, upon which he rode away. This pistol, Field confessed, he took from Colonel West's housekeeper some time before, when he stopped and fired at that officer.

The money of which he robbed travellers for some time he squandered upon lewd women and abandoned discarded servant-men. He was, however, at length apprehended, and convicted of a robbery; but, through the lenity of his prosecutor, the sentence of death was remitted to seven years' transportation to America. Thither he was sent, and sold as a slave; but soon finding means to escape, with others, from bondage, he fled to New York, and there embarked on board a vessel bound for Poole, in Dorsetshire. Being again in London, Field frequently committed four or five robberies a night, sometimes on Finchley Common, and often on Shooter's Hill, Blackheath, and other places in that neighbourhood; and once, being closely pursued, he effected a difficult escape to town. After this he frequented Putney Common and its adjacencies, whence he brought considerable booty into London. Notice having been given at Sir John Fielding's office, persons were sent out on different roads, and Field was conveyed, handcuffed to Tothill Fields Bridewell. Though he had returned from transportation, it was thought proper to indict him at the Surrey Assizes for the subsequent robberies, when he would have pleaded guilty, but Lord Chief Baron Smythe advised him to put himself on his trial; and the jury having given a verdict against him, the judge pronounced sentence, after addressing him in the most pathetic manner; and he was executed accordingly.

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29: William Cox

Who played Marbles and kept a Pet Sparrow to aid him in the Commission of Robberies. Executed at Tyburn, 27th of October, 1773

COX'S father having been transported -- first initiating his son in the art of robbery -- young Cox was left to act on his own account, and as usual, with other wicked habits, he began by picking pockets; but he was soon apprehended and committed to Bridewell, where he was reduced to a most miserable degree of poverty. He no sooner obtained his liberty than he procured decent apparel, and was from that time remarkably clean and neat in his appearance. He lived some years at the house of his uncle, West, in Feather's Court, High Holborn, who encouraged him to pursue those illegal courses which led to his destruction.

He got unperceived into a grocer's, at the corner of Long Lane, in Aldersgate Street, and stole a silver-hilted sword from a room on the first floor. Returning through the shop with his booty, he was asked some questions; on which he said he had been playing with Master Billy, which, he had informed himself, was the name of the grocer's son. But on going out of the shop the sword struck against the steps, and he was taken into custody and brought to trial; but it was his fortune to escape conviction.

Being provided with a tame sparrow, he let the bird fly into a window of a house in Hanover Street, and the door happening to be open he went in, and concealed plate to a considerable amount. Hearing some person walking toward the room he sought refuge in the area, where, being perceived by an elderly gentlewoman, who was the only person in the house, he burst into tears, and saying his sparrow had flown into the window begged he might be allowed to catch it. The old lady complied; and he soon found an opportunity of decamping with his booty.

It was the common practice of Cox to play at marbles, and other games, with young gentlemen before the doors of their parents, and he seldom suffered an opportunity to escape of getting into and robbing the houses. He had a very remarkable boyish appearance; and on a variety of occasions that circumstance greatly assisted him in the pursuit of his felonious designs. So childish, in fact, was his appearance― for he was very short and slender for his years― that sometimes he provided himself with marbles, and, dressing himself like young master, would ask to play with any gentleman's children whom he might observe in the environs of London amusing themselves in their father's courtyard. Thus he would insidiously get every information from the innocent and unsuspicious boys, and repay their little acts of hospitality by plundering the houses of their parents.

Cox was connected with a notorious thief, who called himself Captain Davis; and by means of the most artful stratagems that could be suggested these accomplices perpetrated a surprising number of robberies. Davis was at length apprehended, and sentenced to suffer death; but he was reprieved on condition of transportation.

About the middle of the summer, 1773, the apartments of Mr Kendrick, in Oxford Street, were privately entered, and a bureau was opened and three bank-notes of one hundred pounds each, a hundred and thirty guineas, and a silver watch were stolen thereout, to the amount of four hundred and forty pounds. Soon after Mr Kendrick's robbery Cox and William Claxton went together to Reading, in Berkshire, and there purchased three horses, for which Claxton paid with one of the notes stolen from Mr Kendrick, receiving in part of the change a fifty-pound bank-note, which he afterwards changed at the bank for notes of smaller value, two of which were found in the possession of West, Cox's uncle.

On the first examination of these offenders at the public office in Bow Street, which was on Wednesday, the 11th of August, West said he received the notes from his wife on the day preceding that of her decease, which was about the time of Mr Kendrick's robbery; but on the following Wednesday he assured the magistrates that the notes had been in his possession three years. In contradiction to this it was proved that the notes had not been many days issued from the bank.

Mr Knapp and Mr White, of Reading, appeared, and the fifty-pound note, given in part change of that of a hundred, was regularly traced from the hands of Claxton to the bank, where he had changed it for others of smaller value. West was discharged, and Claxton was admitted an evidence against Cox, who was committed for trial at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey.

The evidence against Cox was chiefly circumstantial; but it was of such a nature as to be almost as strong as positive proof, and on that evidence he was convicted.

Finding the end of his career fast approaching, Cox began to prepare himself for eternity. He was executed along with four more unhappy men, who excited much commiseration from the spectators.

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30: Elizabeth Harriet Greeve

A clever Swindler, transported for Felony, in the Year 1773

ELIZABETH HARRIET GREEVE was one of those specious swindlers who, pretending to great patronage, cheated the credulous by promises of preferment.

With one of the dupes of her artifice she was first cousin to Lord North; with another, second cousin to the Duke of Grafton; to a third, nearly related to Lady Fitzroy: on some occasions she affected great intimacy with Lord Guilford; and had the young Premier then ruled the State she would, without much doubt, have boasted the patronage of Mr Pitt.

On Wednesday, the 3rd of November, 1773, this female sharper and consummate impostor was brought to the bar of the public office, Bow Street, under various charges of fraud.

William Kidwell, a coach-carver, swore that the woman at the bar, who called herself the Honourable Elizabeth Harriet Greeve, had defrauded him of thirty-six pounds, under a promise of procuring him the place of clerk to the stores in the Victualling Office. He said that, the fashion of carving coaches being on the decline, he wished to invest the little sum he had by dint of frugality and hard labour saved in the purchase of some place, and for this purpose advertised for such a situation. This pretended honourable lady answered, and soon lured him out of the sum above mentioned.

William Kent, of Streatly, in Berkshire, charged her with defrauding him of thirty pounds in cash and obtaining from him his conditional bond for two hundred and fifty pounds more, which, together, was the price of the place of a coast-waiter.

This deluded man, upon the promises of Mrs Greeve, quitted his business in the country, and with his wife and children came to London, and remained there some time in the most anxious expectation before he discovered the imposition.

Elizabeth Cooper next appeared before the magistrates and charged the prisoner with defrauding her late husband of sixty-two pounds on a similar pretence to the last case, the loss of which, and his disappointment, the poor afflicted widow said, broke his heart.

The sum of her villainy was proved by another witness, whom the rest had, through some industry, found out: this was her factotum, agent, clerk and friend, an occasional esquire, of the name of Francis Crook. This man swore that when he first acted as her agent he did not know she was an impostor; that he had agreed with a number of persons for the sale of places, whom he took to his mistress, but she always took the money paid in advance.

This artful female was soon recognised as one who had been transported two years before, but had returned before the expiration of the term of her service. She was again disposed of in a similar manner.

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1774

31: John Rann

Commonly called "Sixteen-String Jack." Executed at Tyburn, 30th of November, 1774, for Highway Robbery

THIS fellow was entitled to be classed among the impudent and arrogant self-created gentlemen who levied arbitrary contributions on the highway: he was also of considerable notoriety in acts of such species of depredations, having been regularly initiated, from the humble pickpocket.

John Rann was born at a village a few miles from Bath, of honest parents, who were in low circumstances, and incapable of giving him any kind of education. For some time he obtained a livelihood by vending goods, which he drove around the city and adjacent country on an ass.

A lady of distinction, who happened to be at Bath, took Rann into her service when he was about twelve years of age; and his behaviour was such, that he became the favorite of his mistress and fellow servants.

At length he came to London, and got employment as a helper in the stables at Brooke's Mews, in which station he bore a good character. He then became the driver of a postchaise, after which he was servant to an officer, and in both these stations he was well spoken of.

About four years before his execution he was coachman to a gentleman of fortune near Portman Square, and it was at this period that he dressed in the manner which gave rise to the appellation of "Sixteen-string Jack," by wearing breeches with eight strings at each knee.

After living in the service of several noblemen he lost his character, and turned pickpocket, in company with three fellows, named Jones, Clayton, and Colledge, the latter of whom, a mere boy, obtained the name of "Eight-stringed Jack."

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in April, 1775, Rann, Clayton, and one Shcpherd, were tried for robbing Mr. William Somers on the highway, and acquitted for want of evidence. They were again tried for robbing Mr. Langford, but acquitted for the same reason.

For some time past Rann had kept company with a young woman named Roche, who, having been apprenticed to a milliner, and being seduced by an officer of the guards, was reduced to obtain bread by the casual wages of prostitution; and, at length associating with highwaymen, received such valuable effects as they took on the road.

"A woman's honour is a woman's all,

You're lost for ever if perchance you fall;

In this, wit, beauty, fortune, form, and mind,

You give like atoms to the whistling wind;

All worth, all pleasure, is with honour lost,

A truth which thousands witness to their cost.

The fate of woman deeply we deplore,

They fall like stars that set to rise no more."

On the 30th of May Rann was taken into custody, and, being brought to Bow Street on the following Wednesday, was charged with robbing John Devall, Esq., near the nine-mile stone on the Hounslow road, of his watch and money. This watch he had given to Miss Roche, who had delivered it to Catherine Smith, by whom it was offered in pledge to Mr. Hallam, a pawnbroker, who, suspecting that it was not honestly obtained, caused all the parties to be taken into custody.

Miss Roche was now charged with receiving the watch, knowing it to have been stolen; and Miss Smith, being sworn, deposed that on the day Mr. Devall was robbed, Roche told her that "she expected Rann to bring her some money in the evening"; that he accordingly came about ten at night, and, having retired some time with Miss Roche, she, on her return, owned that she had received a watch and five guineas from him, which he said he had taken from a gentleman on the highway; and that she, Miss Smith, carried the watch to pawn to Mr. Hallam, at the request of Miss Roche.

Sir John Fielding asked Rann if he would offer anything in his defence; on which the latter said, "I know no more of the matter than you do, nor half so much neither." On this occasion Rann was dressed in a manner above his style of life and his circumstances. He had a bundle of flowers in the breast of his coat almost as large as a broom; and his irons were tied up with a number of blue ribands.

For this offence Rann was tried at the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in July, 1774, and acquitted.

Two or three days after this acquittal Rann engaged to sup with a girl at her lodgings in Bow Street; but, not being punctual to his appointment, the girl went to bed, and Rann, not being able to obtain admittance at the door, attempted to get in at the window on the first floor, and had nearly accomplished his purpose, when he was taken into custody by the watchman.

For this burglarious attempt he was examined at Bow Street on the 27th of July, when the girl, whose apartments he had attempted to break open, declared that he could not have had any felonious intention, as he knew that he would have been a welcome guest, and have been readily admitted, if she had not fallen asleep. On this he was dismissed, after Sir John Fielding had cautioned him to leave his dangerous profession, and seek for some more honest means of support.

On the Sunday following Rann appeared at Bagnidge Wells, dressed in a scarlet coat, tambour waistcoat, white silk stockings, laced hat, &c., and publicly declared himself to be a highwayman. Having indulged pretty freely, he became extremely quarrelsome, and several scuffles ensued, in one of which he lost a ring from his finger, and when he discovered his loss, he said it was but a hundred guineas gone, which one evening's work would replace. He be came at length so troublesome that part of the company agreed to turn him out of the house; but they met with so obstinate a resistance that they were obliged to give up their design; when a number of young fellows, possessed of more spirit than discretion, attacked this magnanimous hero, and actually forced him through the window into the road. Rann was not much injured by this severe treatment; but he complained bitterly against those who could so affront a gentleman of his character.

Rann, being arrested for a debt of fifty pounds, which he was unable to pay, was confined in the Marshalsea prison, where he was visited by a number of men and women of bad character, some of whom paid his debt, and produced his discharge.

At another time, Rann being with two companions at an alehouse in Tottenham Court Road, two sheriff's officers arrested Rann, who, not having money to pay the debt, deposited his watch in the hands of the bailiffs, and his associates advanced three guineas, which together made more than the amount of the debt; and, as a balance was to be returned to Rann when the watch should be redeemed, he told the bailiffs that, if they would lend him five shil lings, he would treat them with a crown bowl of punch. This they readily did; and, while they were drinking, Rann said to the officers, "You have not treated me like a gentleman. When Sir John Fielding's people come after me they use me genteelly; they only hold up a finger, beckon me, and I follow them as quietly as a lamb."

When the bailiffs were gone, Rann and his companions rode off; but our hero, soon returning, stopped at the turnpike, and asked if he had been wanted. "No," said the tollman.

"Why," replied the other, "I am Sixteen-string Jack, the famous highwayman― have any of Sir John Fielding's people been this way?"

"Yes," said the man, "some of them are but just gone through."

Rann replied, "If you see them again, tell them I am gone towards London"; and then rode off with the utmost unconcern.

Soon afterwards Rann appeared at Barnet races, dressed in a most elegant sporting style, his waistcoat being blue satin, trimmed with silver; and he was followed by hundreds of people, who were eager to gratify their curiosity by the sight of a man who had been so much the subject of public conversation.

A very short time before Rann was capitally convicted he attended a public execution at Tyburn, and, getting within the ring formed by the constables around the gal lows, desired that he might be permitted to stand there, "for," said he, "perhaps it is very proper that I should be a spectator on this occasion."

On the 26th of September, 1774, Rann and William Collier went on the Uxbridge road, with a view to commit robberies on the highway; and on the Wednesday following they were examined at the public office in Bow Street, when Dr. William Bell, chaplain to the Princess Amelia, deposed that, between three and four o'clock in the afternoon of Monday, the 26th of September, as he was riding near Ealing, he observed two men of rather mean appearance, who rode past him; and that he remarked they had suspicious looks; yet neither at that time, nor for some little time afterwards, had he any idea of being robbed: that soon afterwards one of them, which he believed was Rann, crossed the head of his horse, and, demanding his money, said "Give it to me, and take no notice, or I'll blow your brains out." On this the doctor gave him one shilling and sixpence, which was all the silver he had, and likewise a common watch in a tortoise-shell case.

On the evening of the day on which the robbery was committed Eleanor Roche, who was kept by Rann, and her maid-servant, carried a watch to pledge with Mr. Cordy, pawnbroker, in Oxford Road, who, suspecting that it had not been honestly acquired, stopped it, and applied to Mr. Gregnion, watchmaker, in Russell Street, Covent Garden, who had made the watch for Dr. Bell.

Mr. Clark swore that, on going to Miss Roche's lodgings on the Monday night, he found two pair of boots wet and dirty, which had evidently been worn that day; and Mr. Haliburton swore that he waited at Miss Roche's lodgings till Rann and Collier came thither; in consequence of which they were taken into custody.

On the 5th of October, John Rann, William Collier, Eleanor Roche, and Christian Stewart (servant to Roche), were brought to Bow Street; when Dr. Bell deposed in substance as he had done the proceeding week: and William Hills, servant to the Princess Amelia, swore that he saw Rann, whom he well knew, ascend the hill at Acton about twenty minutes before the robbery was committed― a circumstance which perfectly agreed with Dr. Bell's account of the time he was robbed.

John Rann and William Collier were therefore committed to Newgate, to take their trials for the highway robbery; Miss Roche was sent to Clerkenwell Bridewell, and Christian Stewart,  her servant, to Tothill Fields' Bridewell, to be tried as accessories after the fact.

The evidence given on this trial was, in substance, the same as that which had been given at Bow Street; but, some favorable circumstances appearing in behalf of Collier, he was recommended to mercy, and afterwards respited during the king's pleasure. Miss Roche was sentenced to be transported for fourteen years; her servant was acquitted; and Rann was left for execution.

When Rann was brought down to take his trial he was dressed in a new suit of pea-green clothes; his hat was bound round with silver strings; he wore a ruffled shirt; and his behaviour evinced the utmost unconcern.

Rann was so confident of being acquitted that he had ordered a genteel supper to be provided for the entertainment of his particular friends and associates on the joyful occasion; but their intended mirth was turned into mourning, and the madness of guilty joy gave way to the sullen melancholy of equally guilty grief.

When Rann received his sentence he attempted to force a smile, but it was evident that his mind was racked with pains that no language can express.

After conviction the behaviour of this malefactor was, for some time, very improper for one in his unhappy circumstances. On Sunday, the 23rd of October, he had seven girls to dine with him. The company were remarkably cheerful; nor was Rann less joyous than his companions. His conduct was expressive of great unconcern till the time that the warrant for his execution arrived; after which he began to be somewhat serious in his preparation for a future state.

On the morning of execution he received the sacrament in the chapel of the prison, and at the fatal tree behaved with great decency, but did not appear so much affected by his approaching fate as some printed accounts have represented him. When he came near the gallows he turned round, and looked at it as an object which he had long expected to see, but not as one that he dreaded, as might reasonably have been expected.

He was turned off November the 30th, 1774, and having hung the usual time, his body was delivered to his friends for interment.

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1775

32: Amos Merritt

Having saved an Innocent Man from the Gallows, he himself was executed at Tyburn, 10th of January, 1775, for Burglary

PATRICK MADEN, convicted of a foot robbery on the highway, and William Waine and Levi Barnet, for burglary, were, on the 19th of August, 1774, carried to Tyburn, for execution, pursuant to their sentence.

When the cart was drawn under the gallows a man among the crowd of spectators called out for the others to make way for him, as he had something to communicate to the sheriff respecting one of the malefactors. This being effected, the man, who proved to be Amos Merritt, addressed Mr Reynolds, the under-sheriff, and declared that Patrick Maden was innocent of the crime for which he was about to suffer. Mr Reynolds desired he would look upon the prisoner and speak aloud what he had represented to him. He did so, and declared that he was not guilty, but declined accusing himself. The sheriffs, hearing this declaration, dispatched Mr Reynolds with the information to the Secretary of State, and to request his further orders, of whom he obtained a respite for Maden, who was carried back to Newgate, amid the acclamations of the people.

During Mr Reynolds's absence, which was almost an hour, the other culprits remained with the ropes round their necks, and  were then executed.

Merritt was taken into custody, and at the public office in Bow Street, before Mr Justice Addington, confessed that he himself was the person who had committed the robbery of which Maden had been convicted. The latter was pardoned. Though no doubt remained of Merritt's guilt, yet, as no proof could be adduced to that effect, he, for a while, escaped justice.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of December, 1774, Merritt was indicted for feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Edward Ellicott, early on the morning of the 26th of October, and robbing it of plate, a gold watch, and other valuable articles to a large amount. The evidence was deemed so satisfactory that the jury did not hesitate to find Merritt guilty: in consequence of which he received sentence of death.

He confessed that he had committed the burglary and robbery, and he suffered at the same place, within a single year, where he had been the means of saving the life of Maden.

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33: John Bolton

Convicted of murdering a girl he had seduced and made pregnant,

but cheated justice by committing suicide, 29th March, 1775

THIS UNHAPPY man was reputably descended, and well educated. He served for some time in the army during the late war, and was distinguished by his gallant behaviour; but was dismissed from the military line of life in consequence of the peace of 1763.

While he was in the army, and on a recruiting party in Yorkshire, he became acquainted with a young lady, who possessing a moderate estate in her own right, he married her after he quitted the service, and turned farmer.

By this marriage he had six children, some of whom were living at the time of his death. In this station he continued happily for about ten years, when the event took place which ended in his destruction.

Near Mr. Bolton's place of residence was the village of Ackworth, in which was a house where the poor of several parishes were maintained by contract. From this house, in the year 1768, he took, as apprentices, a boy, named Emanuel Bowes, and a girl of ten years old, called Elizabeth Rainbow. The girl grew up in his service, and was remarkable for her beauty; a circumstance very unfortunate for herself, as it induced Mr. Bolton to seduce her, the consequence of which was that her pregnancy ensued.

When Bolton was assured that the girl was with child, he went to York, and purchased a medicine, in order to procure an abortion; which medicine being administered to the young woman, she was thrown into violent convulsions; but, the strength of her constitution effectually combating the potion, she advanced in her pregnancy without any appearance of having received the least injury.

Bolton, alarmed lest his intercourse with the girl should be known to his wife and family, formed the shocking resolution of murdering her who had fallen a victim to his seductive artifices; but no opportunity offered of perpetrating the horrid deed till Sunday, the 21st of August, 1774.

On this day Mrs. Bolton took one of her children on a visit to a lady who lived at two miles distance; and there being no persons in the house but Emanuel Bowes, the young girl who had been seduced, and a child of six years old, who was sick in bed, Bolton considered this as the proper time for perpetrating the crime on which he had previously resolved. He therefore sent the boy to fetch a cow-doctor, to look at a beast that was presumed to be disordered. The boy returning in about two hours, and finding the door fast, went to an adjoining field, and put a horse to grass; after which he knocked at the door, and his master, letting him in, told him that 'Elizabeth Rainbow had run away, and left most of her clothes behind her.'

The boy was surprised at this intelligence, and some near neighbours said that the girl had not left the house that day; and a woman, who had been to the house to pay for milk, declared that she had given the money to Rainbow, on account of the absence of her mistress.

Mrs. Bolton, returning at seven at night, observed that her husband appeared to be very uneasy, and inquired into the cause of it; to which he only answered that the girl had gone away, and left her clothes on the table in the dining-room. Whether Mrs. Bolton was, or was not, suspicions of her husband's criminal connexion with Rainbow, is a matter of doubt; but it seems probable that she was, as a violent quarrel ensued on this occasion.

About ten days after this affair happened, the neighbours being suspicious that murder had been committed, one of them, who was a constable, went to a magistrate, who granted a warrant for the apprehension of Bolton. The latter, having heard that a warrant was issued, went to the justice, and told him that the report intended to prejudice him was circulated with a malicious view to injure his character. On this the justice told Bolton to attend him in the afternoon, when the constable would be present; instead of which Bolton went home, and, packing up some plate, set off for York, whither he was followed by the constable, who apprehended him, and, carrying him before a justice of the peace, he was lodged in prison.

On the trial, which came on at the ensuing assizes, the following circumstances were discovered, viz. when Bolton had sent the boy for the cow-doctor, he took the girl into the cellar, and strangled her with a cord which he drew round her neck, placing a fife within  the cord, so as to twist it to a proper tightness.

On the Monday after this affair he directed Emanuel Bowes to wheel several barrows filled with rubbish into the cellar, as it had been overflowed with water, which furnished him with a very plausible pretence for the concealment of his guilt, which he presumed would now remain undiscovered.

At length the body of the deceased was found under the rubbish in the cellar; and the coroner's inquest, being summoned on the occasion, gave a verdict of wilful murder; on which Mr. Bolton was committed to the castle of York.

The evidence on his trial was deemed so conclusive, that the jury did not hesitate to find him guilty, in consequence of which he received sentence of death. During his trial he behaved with uncommon effrontery; and, when the judge had passed sentence on him, he turned to the Court, and declared his innocence.

On the following day a clergyman went to him, with a charitable view to prepare his mind to enable him to support himself with decency in the arduous trial be had to undergo, and to fortify it for the awful event that was so soon to await him.

Still, however, he persisted that he was innocent of the alleged crime; and, when the officers of justice went the next morning to convey him to the place of execution, they found that, by hanging himself, he had put a period to his existence.

This event of self-murder happened in the castle of York, on the 29th of March, 1775.

There is no language in which to express our proper sense of the crimes of this unhappy man. He was first guilty of seducing a young woman from the path of virtue; he then murdered her in the fear of detection; and at length laid violent bands on himself. Such a complication of guilt must make the heart shudder; and, we trust, it cannot be necessary to write a single word to deter our readers from the commission of any of these offences.

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34: Lambert Reading

Hackney-Coachman and Leader of a Gang of Robbers, executed at Chelmsford, 10th of August, 1775, for Burglary

LAMBERT READING was the principal of a desperate gang of hackney-coachmen who robbed Copped Hall, in Essex, not far from London. He had a hackney-coachman in confederacy, who waited for him at Stratford. A magistrate of the county, happening to pass by the coach, was struck at its being there at an unusual hour of the night, from which circumstance he was induced to observe its number.

Hearing, the next day, of the robbery at Copped Hall, he wrote to Sir John Fielding his suspicions, and named the number of the coach. From this information the thief-takers traced Reading to a house in Brick Lane, where they found him in bed with a woman who passed as his wife.

He was surrounded with pistols, hangers, picklock keys, dark lanterns and other apparatus of a housebreaker. He had an opportunity of using some of these arms in his defence, but he was so greatly intimidated that he quietly surrendered himself.

The material result of the search was the recovery of the plate stolen from Copped Hall, which was found hidden in Reading's apartment, in three sacks.

On evidence to this effect, added to other corroborating circumstances, he was convicted and executed.

The other hackney-coachman, whose name was Chapman, and who drove for one Conyers, the owner, was taken on the day of Reading's trial; and, being found guilty as an accessory, also received sentence of death, which was afterwards commuted for transportation.

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35: Jane Butterfield,

Tried for murder but acquitted, 19th August, 1775

IN pursuance of our promise to the public, of inserting trials in extraordinary cases, in consequence of which the parties had been acquitted, we give the following, which is very remarkable, as the presumption of guilt is the least that could possibly be imagined.

At the assizes at Croydon, for the county of Surrey, on the 19th of August, 1775, Jane Butterfield was indicted for the wilful murder of William Scawen, Esq.

The short story of this unhappy affair is as follows: Miss Butterfield was, at fourteen years of age, seduced from her father by a woman employed by Mr. Scawen, who too soon brought the young lady to a compliance with his wishes. The seduction was followed by very disagreeable consequences: the father reprobated his daughter; and his death was hastened, as she herself acknowledged, by the grief he felt for her unhappy departure from the paths of virtue.

Mr. Scawen did not appear less affected than herself at this deplorable event: he did every thing in his power to calm the mind of the young lady; promised to supply to her the place of her late parent; and faithfully discharged that duty, by taking the utmost care of her education, and studying to oblige her in every possible instance. He even, as she says, 'faithfully supplied a parent's duty: be was by nature generous, and that generosity, with regard to herself, was unbounded.'

Impelled by notions of gratitude, Miss Butterfield presumed that she could not be thought to have acted ungratefully by her benefactor. -- Her attachment to the deceased was faithful, and her care of him unremitted: she administered to his wants and infirmities, and in all respects fulfilled the tender offices of a wife as much as if she had owed them to him under that sacred tie; and so diligent was her attendance, that her life was repeatedly endangered from excessive fatigue.

Mr. Scawen had been for a long time in a debilitated habit, and for the last six years could not arise or sit down without assistance; and such was the vitiated state of his body, 'that he was obliged to have the assistance of Mr. Caesar Hawkins, the surgeon, who applied caustics to his head, which was swelled to a degree almost incredible.'

At this time Mr. Scawen reposed such confidence in Miss Butterfield that he would not permit any person but herself to apply the proper dressings. So violent was his disorder, that he remained blind near two years, but at length recovered his sight; and his other infirmities were greatly relieved: yet his habit of body became weaker, and those who visited him foresaw that he could not exist for any considerable time.

Mr. Scawen had consulted regular physicians till he was tired, out of the hope of that relief which could not be obtained. He then had recourse to quackery, and had a perfect laboratory in his house, filled with a variety of medicines, to which he had frequent recourse for the relief of his real or imaginary complaints. His closet was stocked with Ward's and Maredant's Drops, and other medicines advertised for the cure of all complaints.

Miss Butterfield constantly advised Mr. Scawen against quackery, nor ever administered any thing to him that she conceived prejudicial to his health, or that he was disinclined to take.

In the course of the trial the strength of the evidence against Miss Butterfield rested with Mr. Edmund Sanxay, a surgeon, who deposed that he had been acquainted with the deceased about fifty years; that he put himself under his care; that he was much emaciated; that he said he was but just recovered from a salivation, which he had been thrown into by taking quack medicines for the rheumatism; that Mr. Sanxay recommended a regimen, which was observed for two days only; when Mr. Scawen came to him, and told him that in a decoction of sarsaparilla, which had been given him, he found a brassy taste, and that it made him very sick; that he had been frequently feverish and sick at stomach; that his mouth began to be sore; and that he apprehended be was going into another salivation.

After this Mr. Scawen was removed to Mr. Sanxay's house on the 20th of June, 1775, and died there on the 8th of July following. Mr. Sanxay declared his opinion that Mr. Scawen did not die a natural death; but that a salivation produced by mercury was the cause of this event.

On the contrary, several surgeons, and other persons of respectable character, gave such evidence as would induce a candid mind to believe that Mr. Scawen did not die by poison, but in consequence of his debilitated habit of body, and his preposterous attachment to quack medicines, in search of that relief which was not to be reasonably expected from them.

The consequence was, that the jury, after retiring about ten minutes, brought in a verdict of 'Not Guilty;' and Miss Butterfield immediately set out for London in a postchaise that had been previously provided.

We have been the shorter in our narrative of this affair, because there did not appear to he any just ground of suspicion of the alleged crime. What were the motives of this prosecution it would not be decent in us to say. It has been intimated that Mr. Scawen had made a will greatly in favour of Miss Butterfield, and that this urged the suit against her. Be this as it may, the generous public will congratulate her, as her friends did, on her honourable acquittal.

The fatal consequences of seduction will appear evident on a consideration of this case. Miss Butterfield's father lost his life in consequence of his daughter's being drawn aside from the paths of virtue. Let this furnish a lesson of caution to men, never to be guilty of a crime, with respect to the other sex, for which all their future tenderness can make no adequate compensation.

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1776

36: Thomas Aikney and Elizabeth Broadingham

Executed for the murder of Broadingham's husband,  20th March, 1776

THOUGH a more wicked and premeditated murder has not presented itself in the course of our researches than that we are about to report, yet we can find no connected narrative, in any legal form, of the horrid case: from detached communications, however, we have gleaned the following particulars:―

John Broadingham was a smuggler, and had been a prisoner in York Castle for offences against the excise laws.

During his confinement his wife, Elizabeth Broadingham, basely cohabited with Thomas Aikney; and, soon after the husband's release, she went off with her paramour, and continued to live with him, in open adultery, upwards of three months.

During this time she proposed the murder of her husband to Aikney, who, struck with horror at her words, declared he never would imbrue his hands in innocent blood. Upon this, for a time, she refrained from naming the subject: yet the horrid purpose remained fixed in her mind; and so powerfully did her evil genius work upon her, that she could no longer rest without again mentioning her determination to Aikney, and which she took an opportunity to do after supplying him with liquor until he was nearly intoxicated. When his brain was thus heated, he heard her without interruption; and she urged him, at every future opportunity, to assist her in the murder of her husband.

To effect this she returned to the unsuspicious and too-forgiving man, who received her rather with kindness than upbraidings.

Aikney lodging hard by, she still pressed him to fix a time for executing the horrible deed; but he endeavoured to persuade her once more to elope with him: nothing, however, but the blood of her husband would satisfy this wicked woman; and, finding no cessation from her importunity, he at length gave a reluctant consent, and the woman planned the dreadful work.

On the 13th of February, eight days only after her husband had taken her back to his little home, and while yet enjoying the hope of the partner of his heart being fully reclaimed, and that she had returned from a sense of duty alone, she, in the dead hour of the night, awoke her slumbering husband, and told him there was a knocking at the door. The unsuspecting man, conjecturing that some acquaintance, perhaps pressed by custom-house officers, required a temporary hiding-place, opened the door, when the villain Aikney, who was waiting his coming, rushed upon him, stabbed him first in the thigh, and then cut him across the belly, leaving the knife which gave the wounds in his body.

Broadingham made to the street, crying out 'Murder!' Some neighbours came to his assistance, who found in one hand the bloody instrument which be had just drawn out of his body, and the other supporting his bowels, which were dropping to the ground.

This miserable man languished until next day, and then expired.

On the trial the principal proof against the murderers was the bloody knife, which was proved to have been the property of Aikney. But can conscience long permit such heinous offenders to conceal their crimes? Oh no! awhile they may evade justice, at the expense of torment of mind; but murder will he discovered.

Under these irresistible impulses both these wretches made a full confession, not only of the crime itself, but they also related the above particulars.

The woman was first strangled, and then her body was burnt to ashes. The man was hanged, and his body sent to the surgeons of the infirmary at Leeds for dissection.

These malefactors suffered March the 20th, 1776, at York.

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37: Daniel And Robert Perreau

Twin Brothers, who, though popularly believed to be innocent, were executed at Tyburn, 17th of January, 1776, for Forgery

IN order to preserve, as near as possible, the chronological disposition of this work, we insert the following in this place, though the brothers Perreau were not executed till a considerable time after conviction, nor till after the acquittal of Mrs Rudd; but it is necessary that their trials should precede that of Mrs Rudd, as the former were in some measure productive of the latter.

On the 10th of March, 1775, discovery was made of a series of forgeries, said to have been carried on for a length of time by Robert and Daniel Perreau, twin brothers; the one an apothecary of great practice, and the other living in the style of a gentleman.

The above parties, together with Mrs Margaret Caroline Rudd, who lived with Daniel Perreau as his wife, and who was deemed to have been a principal agent in the forgeries, were taken into custody, and carried before the bench of magistrates in Bow Street, where the crowd attending to hear their examination was so great, that it became necessary to adjourn to the Guildhall, Westminster.

The evidence there adduced tended to prove that the parties had raised considerable sums by bonds forged in the name of the well-known agent, William Adair, Esquire, which they imposed on several gentlemen of fortune, as collateral securities with their own notes, for the payment of the said sums.

This transaction was discovered by the following means.

Robert Perreau, whose character had been hitherto unimpeachable, applied to Mr Drummond, the banker, to lend him £5,000 and offered a bond for £7,500 which he said Mr Adair had given to his brother, as a security for the payment.

It will now be proper to remark, that, in order to give colour to the validity of these bonds, it had been artfully suggested that Mrs Rudd had near connexions with Mr Adair; and it was even insinuated, that she was his natural daughter: but Mr Drummond, to whom Mr Adair's writing was familiar, had no sooner looked at the signature, than he doubted its authenticity and very politely asked Robert Perreau, if he had seen Mr Adair sign it? The latter said he had not, but had no doubt but it was authentic, from the nature of the connexion that subsisted.

To this Mr Drummond said, that he could not advance such a sum without consulting his brother, and desired Perreau to leave the bond, promising to return it the next morning, or advance on it the sum required.

Mr Perreau made no scruple to leave the bond, and call in the morning. In the interim Mr Drummond examined the bond with greater attention; and Mr Stephens, secretary of the Admiralty, happening to call, his opinion was demanded; when comparing the signature of the bond with letters he had lately received from Mr Adair, he was firmly convinced that it was forged.

When Perreau came, Mr Drummond spoke more freely than he had done before, and told him that he imagined he had been imposed on; but begged that, to remove all doubt, he would go with him to Mr Adair, and get that gentleman to acknowledge the validity of the bond; on which the money should be advanced.

Perreau made not the least objection. They went together; and Mr Adair was asked if the bond was his. He declared it was not; but Perreau smiled, and said he jested.

Mr Adair told him that it was no jesting matter, and that it was his duty to clear up the affair. Perreau said, 'if that was the case, he had been sent on a fine errand!' He desired to have the bond, and said he would make the necessary enquiries: but this was refused, and it was thought a point of prudence to watch the motions of Robert Perreau, till Daniel and his pretended wife were produced.

Soon after he returned home, the three parties went into a coach; and, if Mrs Rudd's testimony may be credited, she took with her what money and valuables she could conveniently carry; and said, that the brothers had taken her money, gold watch, and jewels, into their possession; but no reason was assigned for their doing so.

Their escape, however, if such was intended, was prevented; for an information being laid against them, they were apprehended, carried before Sir John Fielding, and examined at the Guildhall, Westminster, as above-mentioned. The facts already mentioned were attested by Mr Adair, Mr Drummond, and other persons; and Sir Thomas Frankland charged them with obtaining from him £4,000 on the first application, which they honestly repaid before the money became due; afterwards £6,000 and then £4,000 on similar bonds, all signed with the name of Mr Adair.

Mr Watson, a money-scrivener, said that he had drawn eight bonds, all of them ordered by one or other of the brothers; but he hesitated to fix on either, on account of their great personal resemblance; but being pressed to make a positive declaration, he fixed on Daniel as his employer.

Dr Brooke charged the brothers with obtaining from him fifteen bonds of the bank of Air, each of the value of £100 upon the security of a forged bond for £3,100.

On the strength of this evidence the brothers were committed, the one to New Prison, and the other to Clerkenwell Bridewell; and Mrs Rudd was admitted an evidence for the crown.

On her future examination she declared that she was the daughter of a nobleman in Scotland; that, when young, she married an officer in the army, named Rudd, against the consent of her friends; that her fortune was considerable; that, on a disagreementwith her husband, they resolved to part; that she made a reserve of money, jewels, and effects, to the amount of £13,000 all of which she gave to Daniel Perreau, whom she said she loved with the tenderness of a wife; that she had three children by him; that he had returned her kindness in every respect till lately, when having been unfortunate in gaming in the alley, he had become uneasy, peevish; and much altered to her; that he cruelly constrained her to sign the bond now in question, by holding a knife to her throat, and swearing that he would murder her if she did not comply; that, being struck with remorse, she had acquainted Mr Adair with what she had done, and that she was now willing to declare every transaction with which she was acquainted, whenever she should be called upon by law so to do.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in June, 1775, Robert Perreau, Esquire, was indicted for forging a bond for the payment of £7,500 in the name of William Adair, Esquire, and also for feloniously uttering and publishing the said bond, knowing it to be forged, with intention to defraud Robert and Henry Drummond, Esquires.

After what we have mentioned above respecting this transaction, we shall be as concise as possible in the recital of the evidence. Henry Drummond, Esquire, deposed, that Robert Perreau requested the loan of £1,400 having made a purchase in Suffolk or Norfolk to the amount of £12,000. He said he had a house in Harley Street, Cavcndish-square, which cost £4,000 the deeds of which house he would leave as a security. These he did leave, and promising to return in ten days, the money was paid him. He came some time afterwards, and apologized for not having kept his appointment; and said he then came to borrow £5,000 on the bond, out of which he would pay the £1,400 abovementioned.

Mr Drummond and his brother doubting the validity of the bond, Perreau said there were family-connexions between him and Mr Adair, who had money of his in his hands, for which he paid interest.

A great part of what Mr Drummond delivered in evidence has been already given in the former part of this narrative. Mr Drummond going with the prisoner to Mr Adair's, Mrs Daniel Perreau (Mrs Rudd) was sent for, when Robert asked her, if she had not given the bond to him. She owned that she had, took the whole on herself, and acknowledged that she had forged the bond.

The counsel for the prisoner asking Mr Drummond if he was certain that the prisoner said it was his money that Mr Adair paid interest for, he answered in the affirmative. He declared likewise, that Mr Perreau did not make the least objection to leaving the bond with him, nor shewed any reluctance in going with him to Mr Adair's house.

He likewise said that Mrs Rudd took the whole on herself, begged them, 'for God's sake to have mercy on an innocent man;' and that she said no injury was intended to any person, and that all would be paid; and that she acknowledged delivering the bond to the prisoner.

The counsel demanding if Mr Drummond and Mr Adair, after hearing what Mrs Rudd said, had not expressed themselves as considering the prisoner as her dupe; the answer was, 'We both expressed ourselves to that effect. A constable had been sent for, and we discharged him.'

The identity of the bond was proved by Mr Wheatley, Clerk to Messieurs Drummond. The evidence of Mr Robert Drummond was not, in any very essential point, different from that of his brother. He deposed, that when Mrs Rudd had acknowledged that she forged the bond, he expressed his doubt, the hand-writing being so different from that of a woman, and said nothing would convince him of it but her shewing, on a piece of paper, that she could write that sort of hand. He said he did not mean to ensnare her, and would immediately throw the writing into the fire. Mrs Rudd instantly wrote William Adair, or part of the name, so very like the signature of the bond, that it satisfied him, and he burnt the paper. Robert Perreau then said, that 'he hoped that the information she had given sufficiently acquitted him;' but he was told that he had better not inquire into that; and on this occasion he shewed the first sign of anxiety.

Sir Thomas Frankland deposed, that the prisoner brought him two bonds at different times, one to Daniel Perreau for £6,000 and the other to himself (Robert) for £5,300; that for £5,300 on which he lent him £4,000 was to be repaid on the 26th of March, with the three days grace; the other was due on the 8th of March.'

Mr Wilson declared that he filled up the bond at the desire of the prisoner; and produced his instructions for so doing. He likewise acknowledged that he had filled up other bonds for the prisoner.

That the handwriting at the bottom of the bond was not the handwriting of William Adair was proved by Scroope Ogilvie and James Adair, esquires. Mr James Adair was now questioned by counsel respecting a private interview he had with Mrs Rudd, but the court doubted if this might be allowed as evidence. After some observations made by the counsel for the prisoner, a letter was read, which he presumed had been sent him by William Adair, esquire, but which appeared to have been written by Mrs Rudd, but it was scarcely intelligible.

The prisoner now proceeded to make his defence in the following terms:--

'My Lords, and gentlemen of the jury; If I had been wanting in that fortitude which is the result of innocence, or had found any hesitation in submitting my proceedings to the strictest scrutiny, I need not at this day have stood before my country, or set my life upon the issue of a legal trial. Supported by the consciousness of my integrity, I have forced that transaction to light, which might else have been suppressed, and I have voluntarily sought that imprisonment which guilt never invites, and even innocence has been known to fly from; ardently looking forward to this hour; as the sure, though painful, means of vindicating a character, not distinguished, indeed, for its importance, but hitherto maintained without a blemish. There are many respectable witnesses at hand (and many more, I persuade myself, would be found if it had been necessary to summon them upon a point of such notoriety), who will inform your Lordships and the court, how I have appeared to them to act; what trust has been reposed in me, and what credit I had in their opinions, for my diligence, honesty, and punctuality. In truth, my Lords, I am bold to say that few men, in my line of life, have carried on their business with a fairer character, not many with better success. I have followed no pleasures, nor launched into any expences: there is not a man living who can charge me with neglect or dissipation. The honest profits of my trade have afforded me a comfortable support, and furnished me with the means of maintaining, in a decent sort, a worthy wife, and three promising children, upon whom I was labouring to bestow the properest education in my power: in short, we were as happy as affluence and innocence could make us, till this affliction came upon us by surprize, and I was made the dupe of a transaction from whose criminality, I call God, the searcher of all human hearts, to witness, I am now as free as I was at the day of my birth.

'My Lords, and gentlemen of the jury, men who are unpractised in deceit will be apt to credit others for a sincerity which they themselves possess. The most undesigning characters have at all times been the dupe of craft and subtilty. A plain story, with the indulgence of the court, I will relate, which will furnish strong instances of credulity on one part, and at the same time will exhibit a train of such consummate artifices on the other, as are not to be equalled in the annals of iniquity, and which might have extorted an equal confidence from a much more enlightened understanding than I can claim.'

Having said thus much, the unhappy man proceeded to relate a variety of circumstances relative to the imposition practised on him by Mrs Rudd, of which the following are the most remarkable.

He said that she was constantly conversing about the Interest she had with Mr W. Adair; and that Mr Adair had, by his interest with the king, obtained the promise of a baronetage for Daniel Perreau, and was about procuring him a seat in parliament. That Mr Adair had promised to open a bank, and take the brothers Perreau into partnership with him: that the prisoner received many letters signed William Adair, which he had no doubt came from that gentleman; in which were promises of giving them a considerable part of his fortune during his life, and that he was to allow Daniel Perreau £2,400 a year for his houshold expences, and £600 a year for Mrs Rudd's pin-money. That Mr Daniel Perreau purchased a house in Harley Street for £.4,000, which money Mr William Adair was to give them. That, when Daniel Perreau was pressed by the person he bought the house of for the money, the prisoner understood that they applied to Mr William Adair, and that his answer was that he had lent the king £70,000, and had purchased a house in Pall Mall at £7,000, in which to carry on the banking business, and therefore could not spare the £4,000 at that time.

The prisoner now related a variety of circumstances, which would tempt an ingenuous mind to suppose him innocent, and that the guilt of the transaction rested with Mrs Rudd. The unfortunate man then proceeded in his defence in the following terms:

'My lords, and gentlemen of the jury, I have now faithfully laid before you such circumstances as have occurred to my memory, as necessary for your information, in order as they happened during my acquaintance with Mrs Rudd, under the character of my brother's wife. Many have been the sufferers by artifices and impostors, but never man appeared, I believe, in this, or any other tribunal, upon whom so many engines were set at work to interest his credulity. It will not escape the notice of this splendid court, that my compassion was first engaged by the story of Mrs Rudd's sufferings, before my belief was invited to her representations. Let me have credit with you for yielding up by pity in the first instance, and you cannot wonder I did not withhold my credulity afterwards. It is in this natural, this necessary consequence, I rest my defence. I was led from error to error by such insensible degrees, that every step I took strengthened my infatuation. When Mr Drummond first hesitated at the hand- writing at the foot of the bond, if it did not so alarm me as to shake my belief in this artful woman, let it be considered that I had been prevailed upon to negotiate other bonds of hers, depositing them in the hands of bankers who had never spied any defect, or raised the least objection. These bonds have been regularly and punctually paid in due time. The letters sent to me, as if from William Adair, critically agreed with the hand-writing of the bond. Mr Adair did not keep money at Mr Drummond's; opportunities of comparing his handwriting for many years had not occurred, and the hesitation upon his part appeared to me no more than the exceptions and minute precautions of a banker, which could not so suddenly overturn the explicit belief that I had annexed to all that was told me in Harley Street. Can any greater proof be given than my own proposal to Mr Drummond of leaving the bond in his hands till he had satisfied his credulity? Can your lordships, or gentlemen of the jury, for a moment suspect, that any man would be guilty of such a crime, whose proceedings were so fair and open? that single circumstance, I am satisfied, will afford my total exculpation. The resort to Mr Adair was as easy to Mr Drummond, as to the books in his counting-house; it does not come within the bounds of common sense, much less does it fall within the possibility of guilt, that any man living should voluntarily, with his eyes open, take a step so directly and absolutely centering in his certain destruction. But this circumstance, strong as it is, is not all my ease. I bless God, the protector of innocence, that, in my defence, proofs arise upon proofs: the least of them, I trust, will be thought incompatible with guilt. It should seem impossible that a guilty person would propose to Mr Drummond to retain the bond for the satisfaction of his scruples; but that the same person should, after so long a time for consideration had passed after my leaving the bond, which was full twenty-four hours, openly, and in the face of day, enter the shop of Mr Drummond, and demand if he had satisfied all his scruples, unless a man from mere desperation had been weary of his life, and sought a dissolution; this, I humbly apprehend, would be an absolute impossibility: but, my lords, and gentlemen of the jury, I had neither in my breast the principle of guilt, nor had I that desperate loathing of existence as should bring a shameful condemnation on my head. It is true I have invited this trial; hut it is equally true I have done it in the consciousness of my integrity, because I could not otherwise go through the remainder of my days with comfort and satisfaction, unless I had the verdict of my countrymen for my acquittal, and rested my innocence upon the purest testimony I could have on this side the grave. It is plain I had an opportunity of withdrawing myself. How many men are there, with the clearest intentions, yet from the apprehension of being made the talk of the public, and, above all, the dread of imprisonment, and the terror of a trial, would have thought themselves happy to have caught at any opportunity of saving themselves from such a series of distress? greater confidence can no man be in, of the integrity of his case, and the justice of his country. When it was found necessary to the designs of Mrs Rudd, that I and my family should be made the dupes of her connexions with the house of Adair, it may well be believed that nothing but the strongest interdictions could prevent my endeavours to obtain an interview. In fact, this point was laboured with consummate artifice, and nothing less than ruin to my brother and his affairs was denounced upon my breaking this injunction. It was part of the same error to believe her in this also. A respectable witness has told you, and I do not controvert his evidence, that my confidence in her assertion, and in the testimonials that she exhibited under the hand, as I believed, of Mr Adair, were such, in my mistaken judgement, as to be equal to the evidence of my own senses, pressed by the forms of business to say to Mr Drummond that I had seen Mr Adair myself; but I neither went to Mr Adair, nor disclosed those pressing motives which prevented me. No less free to confess my faults, than I am confident to assert my innocence, I seek no palliation for this circumstance, except my temptation and my failings; and I trust it will rather be a matter of surprize, that, in the course of a negotiation, through the whole of which I was acted upon by the most artful of impostors, that this only deviation was to be found: and yet this very circumstance carries with it a clearer conviction of my being the dupe of Mrs Rudd's intrigues, than any I have to offer in my defence; and if my subsequent proceedings, and the alacrity I shewed in going with Mr Drummond to Mr Adair, together with my conduct before this gentleman, is, as I apprehend it is, absolutely irreconcileable with a consciousness of guilt, the circumstances abovementioned will serve to shew with what a degree of credulity the artifices of Mrs Rudd had furnished me.

'Upon the whole, if, in the above detail, no circumstances are discovered in which an innocent man, under the like delusion with myself, might not have acted as I have acted, and, at the same time, if there be very many particulars in which no guilty man would have conducted himself as I have conducted myself; I should be wanting in respect to your Lordships and the jury, if I doubted the justice of their verdict, and which is inseparable from it, my honourable accquittal.'

The prisoner now proceeded to call his witnesses, the substance of whose evidence we shall give in the most concise manner. George Kinder deposed, that Mrs Perreau told him 'that she was a near relation of Mr James Adair; that he looked upon her as his child, had promised to make her fortune, and with that view had recommended her to Mr William Adair, a near relation, and intimate friend of his, who had promised to set her husband and the prisoner up in the banking business.' He likewise deposed, that the said Mr Daniel Perreau was to he made a baronet, and described how she would act when she became a lady. This witness deposed, that Mrs Rudd often pretended that Mr William Adair had called to see her, but that he never had seen that gentleman on any visit.

John Moody, a livery-servant of Daniel Perreau, deposed, that his mistress wrote two very different hands, in one of which she wrote letters to his master, as from Mr William Adair, and in the other the ordinary business of the family; that the letters written in the name of William Adair were pretended to have been left in his master's absence; that his mistress ordered him to give them to his master, and pretend that Mr Adair had been with his mistress for a longer or shorter time, as circumstances required. This witness likewise proved that the hand at the foot of the bond and that of his mistress's fictitious writing were precisely the same: that she used different pens, ink, and paper, in writing her common and fictitious letters; and that she sometimes gave the witness half a crown, when he had delivered a letter to her satisfaction. He said he had seen her go two or three times to Mr J. Adair's, but never to William's; and that Mr J. Adair once visited his mistress on her lying in.

Susanna Perreau (the prisoner's sister) deposed to the having seen a note delivered to Daniel Perreau, by Mrs Rudd, for £9,000 drawn as by William Adair, on Mr Croft, the banker, in favour of Daniel Perreau.

Elizabeth Perkins swore that, a week before the forgery was discovered, her mistress gave her a letter to bring back to her in a quarter of an hour, and say it was brought by Mr Coverley, who had been servant to Daniel Perreau: that she gave her mistress this letter, and her master instantly broke the seal.

Daniel Perreau declared that the purport of this letter was 'that Mr Adair desired her to apply to his brother, the prisoner, to procure him £5,000 upon his (Adair's) bond, in the same manner as he had done before; that Mr Adair was unwilling to have it appear that the money was raised for him, and therefore desired to have the bond lodged with some confidential friend, that would not require an assignment of it; that his brother, on being made acquainted with his request, shewed a vast deal of reluctancy, and said it was a very unpleasant work; but undertook it with a view of obliging Mr William Adair.'

The counsel for the prosecution demanding, 'if he did not disclaim all knowledge of the affair before Mr Adair,' he said, he denied ever having seen the bond before, nor had he a perfect knowledge of it till he saw it in the hands of Mr Adair.

David Caffady, who assisted Mr R. Perreau as an apothecary, deposed, that he lived much within the profits of his profession, and that it was reported he was going into the banking business.

John Leigh, clerk to Sir John Fielding, swore to the prisoner's coming voluntarily to the office, and giving information that a forgery had been committed, on which Mrs Rudd was apprehended. Mr Leigh was asked, if she 'ever charged the prisoner with any knowledge of the transaction till the justices were hearing evidence to prove her confession of the fact.' Mr Leigh answered, that he did not recollect that circumstance, but that on her first examination she did not accuse the prisoner.

Mr Perreau now called several persons of rank to his character. Lady Lyttleton being asked, if she thought him capable of such a crime, supposed she could have done it as soon herself. Sir John Moore, Sir John Chapman, General Rebow, Capt. Ellis, Capt. Burgoyne, and other gentlemen, spoke most highly to the character of the prisoner; yet the jury found him guilty.

After this copious account of the trial of Robert, a very short abstract of that of the other brother may suffice, especially as that of Mrs Rudd is to follow.

Daniel Perreau was indicted for forging and counterfeiting a bond, in the name of William Adair, for £3,300, to defraud the said William Adair; and for uttering the same, knowing it to be forged, with intent to defraud Thomas Brooke, doctor of physic. Mr Scroope Ogilvie, who had been clerk to Mr William Adair nine or ten years, proved the forgery; and Dr Brooke proved the uttering of the forged bond.

By way of defence, the prisoner declared that Mrs Rudd had given him the bond as a true one; that he believed it genuine, authentic and valid; and protested, by all his hopes of happiness in this life and in a future, that he had never conceived an idea of any thing so base as the defrauding any man of his property. He added, 'I adjure the Almighty so to assist me in my present dangerous situation, as I speak here before you.'

Mr Daniel Perreau called several persons to prove the artifices which Mrs Rudd had practised to deceive him. Many persons of fortune and credit appeared to his character; and spoke of his conduct previous to the fatal event in terms of the highest approbation; but the jury hrought in a verdict of guilty; and the unfortunate brothers received sentence of death, but were not executed till January, 1776, because though Mrs Rudd had been admitted an evidence, yet the judges committed her as a principal, as will be seen more at large in the account of the subsequent trial.

After conviction, the behaviour of the brothers was in every respect, proper for their unhappy situation. Great interest was made to obtain a pardon for them, particularly for Robert, in whose favour 78 bankers and merchants of London signed a petition to the king; the newspapers were filled with paragraphs, evidently written by disinterested persons, in favour of men whom they thought dupes to the designs of an artful woman: but all this availed nothing.

On the day of execution the brothers were favoured with a mourning coach, and it was thought that 30,000 people attended. They were both dressed in mourning, and behaved with the most christian resolution. When they quitted the coach and got into the cart, they bowed respectfully to the sheriffs, who waved their hands as a final adieu.

After the customary devotions, they crossed their hands, joining the four together, and in this manner were launched into eternity. They had not hung more than half a minute when their hands dropped asunder, and they appeared to die without pain.

Each of them delivered a paper to the ordinary ot Newgate, which declared their innocence, and ascribed the blame of the whole transaction to the artifices of Mrs Rudd; and, indeed, thousands of people gave credit to their assertions, and a great majority of the public thought Robert wholly innocent.

Daniel Perreau and Robert Perreau were executed at Tyburn on the 7th of January, 1776.

On the Sunday following the bodies were carried from the house of Robert in Golden-square, and, after the usual solemnities, deposited in the vault of Saint Martin's Church. The coffins were covered with black cloth and nails, and a black plate on each, inscribing their names, the day of their death, and their ages (42), being twin brothers. They were carried in separate hearses, their friends attending in mourning coaches. The crowd was so great, that the company could with difficulty get into the church; but at length the ceremony was decently performed, and the mob dispersed.

A few reflections naturally arise on this occasion. There was great guilt somewhere, but where it lay the public will determine. One would imagine that, if Robert Perreau had been guilty, he would not have returned to Drummond's, nor went to Adair's, after being suspected. Charity will suppose that he fell a victim to his friendship for his brother, and lost his life through the telling of a lie; a strong argument for a strict adherence to truth in all we say.

A very ingenious writer on this subject says, 'Upon a dispassionate review of the above trial, is it not possible that the plausible promises of an artful impostor, aided by the vain hope of being made rich and great by her pretended connexions, may have operated on a credulous, though otherwise sensible, mind; like as a gypsy's tale is frequently found to do on weak and unsuspecting women? If so, it will naturally account for the absurdity of the prisoner's pretending an acquaintance with Mr William Adair, whom he had never seen, and was strictly enjoined not to see, and for all the fallacious pretences that followed.'

After this quotation, we shall say no more on this business, but proceed to the trial of Mrs Rudd.

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38: Margaret Caroline Rudd

Tried for Forgery and acquitted

ON THE 8th of December, 1775, Margaret Caroline Rudd was indicted for feloniously forging a bond, purporting to be signed by William Adair, and for feloniously uttering and publishing the same.

Having been brought to the bar in September sessions, to plead to the said indictment, and her counsel contending that she ought not to be tried, as she had acknowledged herself an accomplice, and had been admitted an evidence by the magistrates; and the judges 'differing in opinion on the point of law: reference was had to the opinion of all the judges, that the matter might be finally settled, how far, under what circumstances, and in what manner, an accomplice, received as a witness, ought to be entitled to favour and mercy.'

Mr justice Aston now addressed the prisoner, informing her that eleven of the judges had met (the chief justice of the Common Pleas being indisposed), 'and were unanimous in opinion, that, in cases not within any statute, an accomplice, who fully discloses the joint guilt of himself and his companions, and is admitted by justices of the peace as a witness, and who appears to have acted a fair and ingenuous part in the disclosure of all the circumstances of the cases in which he has been concerned, ought not to be prosecuted for the offences so by him confessed, but cannot by law plead this in bar of any indictment, but merely as an equitable claim to mercy from the crown: and nine of the judges were of opinion, that all the circumstances relative to this claim ought to be laid before the court, to enable the judges to exercise their discretion, whether the trial should proceed or not. With respect to the case before them, the same nine judges were of opinion, that if the matter stood singly upon the two informations of the prisoner, compared with the indictments against her, she ought to have been tried upon all, or any of them, for from her informations she is no accomplice: she exhibits a charge against Robert and Daniel Perreau, the first soliciting her to imitate the hand-writing of William Adair, the other forcing her to execute the forgery under the threat of death. Her two informations are contradictory: if she has suppressed the truth, she has no equitable claim to favour; and if she has told the truth, and the whole truth, she cannot be convicted. As to the indictments preferred against her by Sir Thomas Frankland, as her informations before the justices have no relation to his charges, she can claim no sort of advantage from these informations.'

The trial was now proceeded on. The principal evidences were, the wife of Robert Perreau, and John Moody, a servant to Daniel. The first endeavoured to prove that the bond was published, the latter that it was forged. Sir Thomas Frankland proved that he had lent money on the bond. It was objected by the counsel for the prisoner, that Mrs Perreau was an incompetent witness, as she would be interested in the event; but the court over-ruled this objection.

Mrs Perreau deposed, that, on the 24th of December, she saw Mrs Rudd deliver a bond to her husband, which he laid on the table while he brushed his coat; that it was for £5,300 payable to Robert Perreau, and signed William Adair; and that it was witnessed in the names of Arthur Jones and Thomas Start, or Hart. Mrs Perreau being asked when she again saw the bond, said it was brought to her on the 8th of March (the day after her husband was convicted), when she selected it from other bonds delivered to him on the 24th of December. She made her mark on it and deposed that, when it was delivered to Mr Perreau, Mrs Rudd said, 'Mr Adair would be very much obliged to Mr Perreau to try to raise upon that bond the sum of £4,000 of Sir Thomas Frankland.'

Serjeant Davy cross-examined Mrs Perreau. She acknowledged that till the 24th of December she had never seen a bond in her life, and that, on her first sight of that in question, she had no suspicion 'that anything was wrong.' Being asked how she could recollect, at the distance of three months, the names, the sum, and the several circumstances respecting the bond, she said, 'I have the happiness to have a good memory.' Being asked if she had not examined the other bonds at the same time, she said, she had. It was demanded if her memory had retained the date or sum in any other paper produced to her. She replied, 'I do not remember.'

John Moody, who had been servant with Mrs Rudd, deposed that his mistress wrote two different hands, a common and a feigned one; that in her common hand she noted the usual business of the house; but that, when she wrote letters as coming from William Adair, she wrote her feigned hand. A bond signed William Adair was now shewn him; and he said, 'the name appears to be the same hand the letters were wrote in, which I gave to Daniel Perreau, as coming from Mr William Adair, and which I saw Mrs Rudd write the directions of.' He was asked if he thought Mr Adair's name was of the prisoner's writing. He replied, 'I believe it is her hand-writing.' On his cross-examination he owned that he had never seen Mrs Rudd write Mr Adair's name.

Thus stood the evidence. Sir Thomas Frankland proved the lending Robert Perreau £4,000 on the bond in question, and that he had given him a draught for £3,890, deducting the discount of £5,000 formerly lent, with the discount of the money then borrowed, and £15 10s. for a lottery ticket: that he had since received, among other things, jewels to the value of £2,800, with women's wearing-apparel, &c., which might, for what he knew, be the prisoner's, but were sold to him by the two Perreaus by a bill of sale.

Christian Hart deposed, that she had received a paper from the prisoner, tending to prove that there was a combination against her life to have been concerted at the house of this witness, by Sir Thomas Frankland and the friends of the Perreaus. Our readers will give what credit they please to this evidence.

It was now demanded of Mrs Rudd, what she would say in her defence. She addressed the jury in a short, but sensible speech, and concluded in these words, 'Gentlemen, ye are honest men, and I am safe in your hands.'

The jury, after a short consultation, gave their verdict in the following singular, and perhaps unprecedented words: 'According to the evidence before us, NOT GUILTY.'

The verdict was no sooner given, than Mrs Rudd quitted the court, and retired to the house of a friend at the west end of the town.

There is a mystery in the story of the brothers Perreau, and Mrs Rudd, that no person but the latter can clear up. We are told that she is yet living; but we hope that, before she quits this world, she will discover the secrets of a transaction concerning which the public opinion has been so much divided. The Perreaus were guilty, or they were not; and it is only from Mrs Rudd the truth can be known. A declaration of the fact, if she was guilty, could not now affect her, as she was acquitted by the laws of her country.

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1777

39: Peter Le Maitre

Convicted, 7th of March, 1777, of robbing the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford

WHEN Lord Thurlow was Chancellor of England some villains broke into his house, in Great Ormond Street, and stole thereout the Great Seal of England, which was never recovered, nor were the thieves known. We have heard also of a valuable diamond being stolen from the late Duke of Cumberland while going into the theatre in the Haymarket to see the bubble of the bottle-conjurer. It is also a fact that the Duke of Beaufort was robbed of his diamond Order of St George as he went to Court on a Royal birthday; but we have yet to tell that a museum was robbed of its curious medals.

Peter Le Maitre was a French teacher at Oxford, and, being supposed a man of industry and good morals, he was indulged with free admission to the Ashmolean Museum. Thither he frequently went, and appeared very studious over the rare books and other valuable curiosities there deposited. He was left alone to his researches. At one of such times he stole two medals, and at another he secreted himself until the doors (without the keeper's suspecting anyone was there) were locked for the night. When all had retired he came from his lurking-place and broke open the cabinet where the medals were locked up, and possessed himself of its contents; then he wrenched a bar from a window and, unsuspected, made his escape.

The college was thrown into the utmost consternation on finding their museum thus plundered. Some were suspected, but least of all Le Maitre, until it was discovered that he had privately left the city in a post-chaise, and that he had pledged two of the stolen medals to pay the post-boys. This left little doubt but that he was the ungrateful thief. He was advertised and described, and by this means apprehended in Ireland. He had first fled to Norwich, where he sold a variety of gold chains and various valuable coins. He was conveyed back to Oxford, in order to take his trial; and thereon it appeared that two of the stolen medals were found in a bureau in his lodgings of which he had the use, and two more were traced to the persons to whom he had sold them.

He had little to offer in his defence and, on the clearest evidence, the jury found him guilty. Upon argument it was found that no punishment adequate to the crime could be inflicted; and Monsieur Le Maitre paid the penalty of his offence by five years' hard labour at ballast-heaving on the River Thames.

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40: James Hill

Commonly called "John the Painter," an Incendiary,  who aimed at the Destruction of the Nation. Executed at Portsmouth, 10th of March, 1777

SO dangerous an individual to the kingdom as this man perhaps never existed, and whose confession and repentence can hardly soften the abhorrence felt on the contemplation of the extent of his crimes.

James Hill, that universally detested character, during the progress of his public ruin and desolation, had gone by several names -- a plan generally adopted in a long course of villainy.

He was once a journeyman to Mr Golden, a painter, at Titchfield, whence he procured the familiar title of "John the Painter." During a residence of some years in America he imbibed principals destructive to the interests of this country. Transported with party zeal, he formed the desperate resolution of committing a most atrocious crime, which he, in some degree, effected. About four o'clock in the afternoon of the 7th of December, 1776, a fire broke out in the roundhouse of Portsmouth Dock, which entirely consumed that building. The fire was wholly attributed to accident; but on the 5th of January three men, who were employed in the hemp-house, found a tin machine, somewhat resembling a tea-canister, and near the same spot a wooden box containing various kinds of combustibles. This circumstance being communicated to the commissioner of the dock, and circulated among the public, several vague and indefinite suspicions fell upon Hill, who had been lurking about the dockyard, whose surname was not known, but who had been distinguished by the appellation of "John the Painter."

In consequence of advertisements in the newspapers, offering a reward of fifty pounds for apprehending him, he was secured at Odiham. On the 17th of February the prisoner was examined at Sir John Fielding's office, Bow Street, where John Baldwin, who exercised the trade of a painter in different parts of America, attended, by the direction of Lord Temple. The prisoner's discourse with Baldwin operated very materially towards his conviction, as it was brought in corroboration of a variety of evidence on the trial. He said he had taken a view of most of the dockyards and fortifications about England, with the number of ships in the navy, and observed their weight of metal and their number of men, and had been to France two or three times to inform Silas Dean, the American, of his discoveries; and that Dean gave him bills to the amount of three hundred pounds and letters of recommendation to a merchant in the City, which he had burned, lest they should lead to a discovery. He informed Baldwin that he had instructed a tinman's apprentice at Canterbury to make him a tin canister, which he carried to Portsmouth, where he hired a lodging at one Mrs Boxall's, and tried his preparations for setting fire to the dockyard.

After recounting the manner of preparing matches and combustibles he said that on the 6th of the preceding December he got into the hemp-house, and having placed a candle in a wooden box, and a tin canister over it, and sprinkled turpentine over some of the hemp, he proceeded to the rope-house, where he placed a bottle of turpentine among a quantity of loose hemp, which he sprinkled with turpentine, and having laid matches, made of paper painted over with powdered charcoal and gunpowder diluted with water, and other combustibles about the place, he returned to his lodgings. These matches were so contrived as to continue burning for twenty-four hours, so that by cutting them into proper lengths he provided for his escape, knowing the precise time when the fire  would reach the combustibles. He had hired lodgings in other two houses, to which he intended to set fire, that the engines might not be all employed together in quenching the conflagration at the dock.

On the 7th he again went to the hemp-house, intending to set it on fire, which he, however, was unable to effect, owing to a halfpennyworth of common house matches that he had bought not being sufficiently dry. This disappointment, he said, rendered him exceedingly uneasy, and he went from the hemp-house to the rope- house and set fire to the matches he had placed there. He said his uneasiness was increased because he could not return to his lodging, where he had left a bundle containing an "Ovid's Metamorphoses," a treatise on war and making fireworks, a "Justin," a pistol and a French passport, in which his real name was inserted.

When he had set fire to the rope-house he proceeded toward London, deeply regretting his failure in attempting to fire the other building, and was strongly inclined to fire into thewindows of the woman who had sold him the bad matches. He jumped into a cart, and gave the woman who drove it sixpence, to induce her to drive quickly, and when he had passed the sentinels observed the fire to have made  so rapid a  progress that the elements seemed in a blaze.  He might have added, with Chaos to the Devil,

"Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain."

About ten the next morning he arrived at Kingston, where he remained until the dusk of the evening, and proceeded to London in the stage. Soon after his arrival he waited upon the gentleman in the city, and informed him of having been under the necessity of burning the bills upon, and letters to, him from Silas Dean. The gentleman behaved to him with shyness, but appointed to meet him at a coffee-house. At the coffee-house the gentleman seemed to be doubtful as to the story told by Hill, who therefore went away displeased, and as soon as he reached Hammersmith wrote to the merchant, saying he was going to Bristol, and that the "handy works he meant to perform there would be soon known to the public." A short time after his arrival at Bristol he set fire to several houses, which were all burning with great rapidity at one time, and the flames were not extingruished till damage was sustained to the amount of fifteen thousand pounds. He also set fire to combustibles that he had placed among a number of oil barrels upon the quay, but, happily, without effect. He related to Baldwin a great number of other circumstances, which were confirmed by a variety of evidence on his trial, which came on on Thursday, 6th of March, 1777, at Winchester Castle, when witnesses were produced from different parts of the country, who proved the whole of his confession to Baldwin to be true.

When called upon for his defence, he complained of the newspapers and reports circulated to his prejudice; and observed that it was easy for such a man as Baldwin to feign the story he had  told, and for a number of witnesses to be collected to give it support.

He declared that God alone knew whether he was, or was not, the person who set fire to the dock-yard of his Britannic Majesty at Portsmouth; and begged it might be attended to, how far Baldwin ought to be credited: that if he had art enough, by lies, to insinuate anything out of him, his giving it to the knowledge of others was a breach of confidence; and if he would speak falsely to deceive him, he might also impose upon a jury. Upon this head the prisoner, with some ingenuity, dwelt for some time, and concluded by begging the judge to repeat his defence in proper terms to the jury, as he was not endowed with the gift of oratory, which they might easily perceive.

The prisoner had no counsel.

The jury, after a clear and impartial charge from Baron Hotham, in an instant agreed upon their verdict -- Guilty.

The learned judge then proceeded to pass the sentence of the law upon the prisoner. He told him that he had a long and fair trial; that he had been found guilty on the fullest and clearest evidence; that he could not have any thing to complain of in the candour of the Court, and that his crime was of a nature so enormous, that it was not in the power of words to aggravate it.

The judge then said that he would not increase the prisoner's present unhappy moments, nor add to his distress, by dwelling upon the horrors attending the crime of which he was convicted; but was sorry to say that he felt, he feared, much more for him than his appearances bespoke him feeling for himself: yet would he earnestly recommend him to consider his case, and prepare to meet his God; for that he was bound -- and it was by much the most disagreeable part of his duty -- to pass the sentence of the law upon him; and he accordingly adjudged him to be hanged by the neck until he was dead. Further, he said, he thought it right to advise him, that, as his offence was of such a nature as might not only have proved fatal to every person present, but have involved the whole British nation in universal ruin, there was not any probability of his receiving mercy; and concluded by strongly urging the prisoner to repentance, and preparation for that pardon in the world to come which upon earth could not he granted to him.

He was allowed for this purpose four days, and suffered at Portsmouth on March 10, 1777, in sight of the ruins which he had occasioned.

His body, for several years, hung in chains on Blockhouse Point, on the opposite side of the harbour to the town.

To these particulars we shall present his confession. On the morning after his condemnation he informed the turnkey, of his own spontaneous accord, that he felt an earnest desire of confessing his crime, and laying the history of his life before the public; and that, by discovering the whole of his unaccountable plots and treasonable practices, he might make some atonement for the wrongs he had done, of which he was now truly sensible and a repentant sinner.

This request being made known to the Earl of Sandwich, then first Lord of the Admiralty, that nobleman directed Sir John Fielding to send down the proper persons to take and attest his confession.

He began by saying that he was by birth a Scotchman, and had left Scotland in order to embark for America, where he resided the greater part of his life. The diabolical scheme of setting fire to the dock-yards and the shipping, he said, originated in his own wicked mind, on the very breaking out of the rebellion in America; and he had no peace until he proceeded to put it in practice. The more he thought of it, the more practicable it appeared; and with this wicked intent he crossed again the great Atlantic.

He had no sooner landed than he began to take surveys of the different dock-yards; which done, he went to Paris, and had several conferences with Silas Dean, the rebel minister to the court of France.

Dean (as well indeed he might) was astonished at Hill's proposals, which embraced the destruction of the English dockyards and the shipping.

Finding the projector an enthusiast in the cause of America, and a man of daring spirit, he gradually listened to his schemes; and such was the enmity of the first Congress to the mother country, that Dean supplied this traitor with money, to enable him to carry them into execution; procured him a French passport; and gave him a letter of credit on a merchant in London, who, as we have already observed, escaped detection.

He then confirmed the evidence given against him, and in particular his confessions to Baldwin. He was, he further declared, to have been rewarded by a commission in the American army for setting fire to the dock-yard at Plymouth; and fully admitted the justice of his sentence for a crime so heinous.

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41: Joseph Armstrong

Convicted of Murder, but cheated the Gallows by hanging himself,

17th of March, 1777

CAPTAIN A'COURT, a gentleman of fortune, intending to take his family on a visit to Cheltenham, hired Joseph Armstrong to attend them on such excursion, in the capacity of footman. It appears that his pertness and neglect soon disgusted Mrs A'Court, who requested her husband to discharge him. In revenge, he determined to poison her; in doing which he had the barbarity to keep her lingering in misery ten days, This he effected by putting arsenic, at different times, into her tea, of which, in that time, she expired in excruciating torment.

This being fully proved on his trial, he was sentenced to death; but when the jailer went to his cell, to summon him to his fate, it appeared that he had contrived to hang himself but a short time before, thus robbing the gallows of its deserved due, and preventing the wholesome example of the public execution of such a villain.

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42: David Brown Dignum

Convicted, 5th of April, 1777, of fraudulently pretending to sell Places under Government, and sentenced to Hard Labour on the Thames

THE first public complaint made against David Brown Dignum was at the public office in Bow Street, by Mr John Clarke, who deposed that between the 18th of June and the 8th of July, 1776, he paid Dignum one hundred pounds, two shillings and tenpence, for investing him with the office of Clerk of the Minutes in his Majesty's custom-house in Dublin; that the above-mentioned sum was paid at different times in cash and drafts, and that the drafts were duly honoured by the parties on whom they were drawn.

Mr Clarke produced a stamped paper bearing the signature of Lord Weymouth, and countersigned Thomas Daw, which he deposed to have received from the prisoner as a legal warrant appointing him to the office in question. Mr Daw proved that the  signature of Lord Weymouth and his own name were counterfeited; and it was evident that the seals had been taken from some instrument and affixed to the pretended warrant.

Dignum was charged with a similar offence by Mr Brown, from whom he obtained one thousand pounds under pretence of causing him to be appointed writer in The London Gazette.

Mr Brown produced a warrant bearing the similar marks of imposition with those exhibited in the former charge. On the 5th of April, 1777, Dignum was indicted at the Guildhall, Westminster, for defrauding Mr Clarke by means of a forged warrant. The jury found him guilty, without leaving the court. The magistrates hesitated a long time on what punishment should be inflicted on so atrocious an offender, and at length sentenced him to work five years on the River Thames.

No time was now lost in conveying Dignum on board the ballast-lighter. Being possessed of plenty of money, and having high notions of gentility, he went to Woolwich in a post-chaise, with his negro servant behind, expecting that his money would procure every indulgence in his favour, and that his servant would still be admitted to attend him. But in this he was egregiously mistaken: the keepers of the lighter would not permit the negro to come on board, and Dignum was immediately put to the duty of the wheelbarrow.

On Monday, the 5th of May, Dignum sent a forged draft for five hundred pounds for acceptance to Mr Drummond, banker, at Charing Cross, who, discovering the imposition, carried the publishers before Sir John Fielding; but they were discharged. It was then intended to procure a habeas corpus to remove Dignum to London for examination. This plan, however, was soon seen through; for on consideration it seemed evident that Dignum, by sending the forged draft from on board the lighter, preferred death to his situation; so that no further steps were taken in the affair, and Dignum remained a victim to the equitable laws of his country.

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43: Ann Marrow

Pilloried at Charing Cross, 22nd of July, 1777, for marrying three Women

ANN MARROW was convicted at the Quarter Sessions for the city and liberty of Westminster, on the 5th of July, 1777, of going in men's clothes and personating a man in marriage, with three different women (Mary Hamilton, the reader will remember, played off this trick fourteen times), and defrauding them of their money and effects. She was sentenced to be imprisoned three months, and during that time to stand once in and upon the pillory, at Charing Cross.

Agreeably to the pillorying part of her sentence she was  on the 22nd of the same month, placed in the pillory; and so great was the resentment of the spectators, particularly  the female part, that they pelted her to such a degree that she lost the sight of both her eyes.

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44: Dr William Dodd

Doctor of Divinity, Prebendary of Brecon, Chaplain-in-Ordinary to his Majesty, and Minister to the Magdalen Hospital. Executed at Tyburn, 27th of June, 1777, for Forgery

THE character and the offence of this unfortunate divine are too well known to render it necessary that any introduction to the recital of the circumstances of his case should be attempted.

Dr Dodd was the eldest son of a clergyman who held the vicarage of Bourne in the county of Lincoln, and was born at Bourne on the 29th of May, 1729; and after finishing his school education, was admitted a sizar of Clare Hall, Cambridge, in the year 1745, under the tuition of Mr John Courtail, afterwards Archdeacon of Lewes. At the University he acquired the approbation of his superiors by his close attention to his studies; and at the close of the year 1749 he took his first degree of bachelor of arts with considerable reputation, his name being included in the list of wranglers.

It was not only in his academical pursuits, however, that he was emulous of distinction. Having a pleasing manner, a genteel address, and a lively imagination, he was equally celebrated for his accomplishments and his learning. In particular he was fond of the elegances of dress, and became, as he ludicrously expressed it, "a zealous votary of the god of Dancing," to whose service he dedicated much of that time which he could borrow from his more important avocations.

The talent which he possessed was very early displayed to the public; and by the time he had attained the age of eighteen years, prompted by the desire of fame, and perhaps also to increase his income, he commenced author, in which character he began to obtain some degree of reputation. At this period of his life, young, thoughtless, volatile and inexperienced, he precipitately quitted the University, and, relying entirely upon his pen, removed to the metropolis, where he entered largely into the gaieties of the town, and followed every species of amusement with the most dangerous avidity. In this course, however, he did not continue long. To the surprise of his friends, who least suspected him of taking such a step, without fortune, and destitute of all means of supporting a family, he hastily united himself, on the 15th of April, 1751, in marriage with Miss Mary Perkins, daughter of one of the domestics of Sir John Dolben, a young lady then residing in Frith-street, Soho, who, though endowed with personal attractions, was deficient in those of birth and fortune.

To a person circumstanced as Mr Dodd then was, no measure could be more imprudent, or apparently more ruinous and destructive to his future prospects in life. He did not, however, seem to view it in that light, but, with a degree of thoughtlessness natural to him, he immediately took and furnished a house in Wardour-street. His friends now began to be alarmed at his situation, and his father came to town in great distress upon the occasion; and in consequence of the advice which he gave him, his son quitted the house before the commencement of winter, and, urged by the same preceptor, he was induced to adopt a new plan for his future subsistence.

On the 19th of October in the same year, he was ordained a deacon by the Bishop of Ely, at Caius College, Cambridge; And, with more prudence than he had ever shown before, he now devoted himself with great assiduity to the study and duties of his profession. In these pursuits he appeared so sincere, that he even renounced all his attention to his favourite objects― polite letters. At the end of his preface to the "Beauties of Shakspeare," published in this year, he says, "For my own part, better and more important things henceforth demand my attention; and I here with no small pleasure take leave of Shakspeare and the critics. As this work was begun and finished before I entered upon the sacred function in which I am now happily employed, let me trust this juvenile performance will prove no objection, since graver, and some very eminent, members of the Church have thought it no improper employ to comment upon, explain, and publish the works of their own country poets."

The first service in which he was engaged as a clergyman was to assist the Rev Mr Wyatt, vicar of West Ham, as his curate thither he removed, and there he spent the happiest and more honourable moments of his life. His behaviour was proper, decent, and exemplary. It acquired for him the respect and secured for him the favour of his parishioners so far, that on the death of their lecturer, in 1752, he was chosen to succeed him. His abilities had at this time every opportunity of being shown to advantage; and his exertions were so properly directed, that he soon became a favourite and popular preacher. Those who were at this period of his life acquainted with his character and his talents, bear testimony to the indefatigable zeal which he exhibited in his ministry, and the success with which his efforts were crowned. The follies of his youth seemed entirely past, and his friends viewed the alteration in his conduct with the greatest satisfaction; while the world promised itself an example to hold out for the imitation of others.

At this early season of his life, he entertained sentiments favourable towards the opinions of Mr Hutchinson, and he was suspected to incline towards Methodism; but subsequent consideration confirmed his belief in the doctrines of the Established Church. In 1752 he was selected lecturer of St James, Garlick-hill, which, two years afterwards, he exchanged for the same post at St Olave, Hartstreet; and about the same time he was appointed to preach Lady Moyer's lectures at St Paul's, where, from the visit of the three angels to Abraham, and other similar passages in the Old Testament, he endeavoured to prove the commonly-received doctrine of the Trinity. On the establishment of the Magdalen House in 1758, he was amongst the first and most active promoters of that excellent charitable institution, which derived great advantage from his zeal for its prosperity, and which, even up to the unhappy termination of his life, continued to be materially benefited by the exercise of his talents in its behalf. His exertions, however, were not confined to this hospital, but he was also one of the promoters of the Society for the Relief of Poor Debtors, and of the Humane Society for the recovery of persons apparently drowned.

From the time he entered upon the service of the Church, Dr Dodd had resided at West Ham, and made up the deficiency in his income by superintending the education of a few young gentlemen who were placed under his care; an occupation for which he was well fitted. In 1759 he took the degree of Master of Arts, and in 1763 he was appointed chaplain in ordinary to the King; and about the same time he became acquainted with Dr Squire, the bishop of St David's, who received him into his patronage, presented him to the prebend of Brecon, and recommended him to the Earl of Chesterfield as a proper person to be intrusted with the tuition of his successor in the title. The following year saw him chaplain to the King; and in 1766 he took the degree of Doctor of Laws at Cambridge.

The expectations which he had long entertained of succeeding to the rectory of West Ham now appeared hopeless; and having given up all prospect of their being realised, after having been twice disappointed, he resigned his lectureship both there and in the City, and quitted the place -- "a place," said he to Lord Chesterfield in a dedication to a sermon entitled "Popery inconsistent with the natural Rights of Men in general, and Englishmen in particular," published in 1768, "ever dear, and ever regretted by me, the loss of which, truly affecting to my mind (for there I was useful, and there I trust I was loved), nothing but your lordship's friendship and connection could have counterbalanced." The "Thoughts in Prison" of the unfortunate gentleman contain a passage of a similar tendency, from which it maybe inferred that he was compelled to quit this, his favourite residence; a circumstance which he pathetically laments, and probably with great reason, as the first step to that change in his situation which led him insensibly to his last fatal catastrophe.

On his quitting West Ham, he removed to a house in Southampton-row; and at the same time he launched out into scenes of expense, which his income, although now by no means a small one, was inadequate to support. He provided himself with a country-house at Ealing, and exchanged his chariot for a coach, in order to accommodate his pupils, who, besides his noble charge, were in general persons of family and fortune. About the same time it was his misfortune to obtain a prize of £1000 in the state lottery; and elated with this success, he engaged with a builder in a plan to erect a chapel near the palace of the Queen, from whom it took its name. He entered also into a like partnership at Charlotte Chapel, Bloomsbury, and both these schemes were for some time very beneficial to him, though their proceeds were much inferior to his expensive habits of living. His expectations from the former of these undertakings were extremely sanguine. It is reported that in fitting up his chapel near the palace, he flattered himself with the hopes of having some young royal auditors, and in that expectation assigned a particular pew or gallery for the heir-apparent. But in this, as in many other of his views, he was disappointed.

In the year 1772 he obtained the rectory of Hockliffe, in Bedfordshire, the first cure of souls he ever had. With this also he held time vicarage of Chalgrove; and the two were soon after consolidated An accident happened about this time, from which he narrowly escaped with his life. Returning from Barnet, he was stopped near St Pancras by a highwayman, who discharged a pistol into the carriage, which, happily, only broke the glass. For this fact the delinquent was tried, and, on Mrs Dodd's evidence, convicted and hanged. Early in the next year Lord Chesterfield died, and was succeeded by Dr Dodd's pupil, who appointed his preceptor to be his chaplain.

At this period Dr Dodd appears to have been in the zenith of his popularity and reputation. Beloved and respected by all orders of people, he would have reached, in all probability, the situation which was the object of his wishes, had he possessed patience enough to have waited for it, and prudence sufficient to keep himself out of those difficulties which might prove fatal to his integrity. But the habits of dissipation and expense had acquired too great an influence over him; and he had by their means involved himself in considerable debts. To extricate himself from them, he was tempted to an act which entirely cut off every hope which he could entertain of rising in his profession, and totally ruined him in the opinion of the world. On the. translation of Bishop Moss, in February, 1774, to the See of Bath and Wells, the valuable rectory of St George, Hanover-square, fell to the disposal of the Crown, by virtue of the King's prerogative.

Whether from the suggestion of his own mind, or from the persuasion of some friend, is uncertain; but on this occasion he took a step of all others the most wild and extravagant, and the least likely to be attended with success. He caused an anonymous letter to be sent to Lady Apsley, offering the sum of three thousand pounds if by her means he could be presented to the living. The letter was immediately communicated to the chancellor, and, after being traced to the writer, was laid before his majesty. The insult offered to so high an officer by the proposal was followed by instant punishment. Dr Dodd's name was ordered to be struck out of the list of chaplains. The press teemed with satire and invective; he was abused and ridiculed in time papers of the day; and to crown the whole, the transaction became a subject of entertainment in one of Mr Foote's pieces at the Haymarket.

As no explanation could justify so absurd a measure, so no apology could palliate it. An evasive letter in the newspapers, promising a justification at a future day, was treated with universal contempt; and stung with remorse, and feelingly alive to the disgrace he had brought on himself, he hastily quitted the place where neglect and insult only attended him, and going to Geneva to his late pupil, he was presented by him with the living of Winge in Buckinghamshire, which he held with that of Hockliffe, by virtue of a dispensation. Though encumbered with debts, he might still have retrieved his circumstances, if not his character, had he attended to the dictates of prudence; but his extravagance continued undiminished, and drove him to pursue schemes which overwhelmed him with additional infamy. He became the editor of a newspaper; and it is said that he even attempted, by means of a commission of bankruptcy, to clear himself from his debts; an attempt in which, how ever, he failed. From this period it would appear that every step which he took led to complete his ruin. In the summer of 1776 he went to France, and there, with little regard to decency or the observances proper to be maintained by a minister of religion, he paraded himself in a phaeton at the races on the plains of Sablons, dressed in all the foppery of the kingdom in which he was temporarily resident.

At the beginning of winter he returned to London, and continued there to exercise the duties of his profession until the very moment of his committing the offence for which his life was subsequently forfeited to the offended laws of his country. On the 2nd of February, 1777, he preached his last sermon at the Magdalen Chapel, where he was still heard with approbation and pleasure; and on the 4th of the same month he forged a bond, purporting to be that of his late pupil, the Earl of Chesterfield, for £4200. Pressed by creditors, and unable any longer to meet their demands or soothe their importunities, he was driven to commit this crime, as the only expedient to which he could have recourse to aid him in his escape from his difficulties.

The method which he adopted in completing the forgery was very remarkable. He pretended that the noble earl had urgent occasion to borrow £4000, but that he did not choose to be his own agent. and he begged that the matter therefore might be secretly and expeditiously conducted. A person named Lewis Robertson was the person whom he employed as broker to negotiate the transaction and he presented to him a bond, not filled up or signed, that he might find a person ready to advance the sum required, as he directed him to say, to a young nobleman who had lately come of age.

Several applications were made by Robertson without success, the persons refusing because they were not to be present when the bond was executed; but at length the agent, confiding in the honour and integrity of his employer, went to Messrs Fletcher and Peach, who agreed to advance the money. Mr Robertson then carried the bond back to the doctor, in order that it might be filled up and executed; and on the following day it was returned, bearing the signature of the Earl of Chesterfield, and attested by the doctor himself. Mr Robertson, knowing that Mr Fletcher was a man who required all legal observances to be attended to, and that he would therefore object to the bond as bearing the name of one witness only, put his name under that of Dr Dodd, and in that state he carried the bond to him, and received from him the sum of £4000 in return, which he paid over to his employer.

The bond was subsequently produced to the Earl of Chesterfield; but immediately on his seeing it, he disowned it, and expressed himself at a loss to know by whom such a forgery upon him could have been committed. It was evident, however, that the supposed attesting witnesses must, if. their signatures were genuine, he acquainted with its author; and Mr Manly, his lordship's agent, went directly to consult Mr Fletcher upon the best course to be taken; and after some deliberation, Mr Fletcher, a Mr Innis, and Mr Manly proceeded to Guildhall to prefer an information with regard to the forgery against Dr Dodd and Mr Robertson. Mr Robertson was without difficulty secured; and then Fletcher, Innis, and Manly, accompanied by two of the lord mayor's officers, went to the house of Dr Dodd in Argyle-street, whither he had recently removed.

Upon their explaining the nature of their business to him, he appeared much struck and affected, and declared his willingness to make any reparation in his power. Mr Manly told him that his instantly returning the money was the only mode which remained for him to save himself; and he immediately gave up six notes of £500 each, making £3000 and he drew on his hanker for £500 more. The broker then returned £100 and the doctor gave a second draft on his banker for £200, and a judgment on his goods for the remaining £400. All this was done by the doctor in full reliance on the honour of the parties that the bond should be returned to him cancelled; but, notwithstanding this restitution, he was taken before the lord mayor, and charged with the forgery.

The doctor declared that he had no intention to defraud Lord Chesterfield or the gentlemen who advanced the money, and hoped that the satisfaction he had made in returning it would atone for his offence. He was pressed, he said, exceedingly for £300 to pay some bills due to tradesmen, and took this step as a temporary resource, and would have repaid the money in half a year. "My Lord Chesterfield," added he, cannot but have some tenderness for me as my pupil. I love him, and he knows it. There is no body wishes to prosecute. I am sure my Lord Chesterfield don't want my life, ―I hope he will show clemency to me, Mercy should triumph over justice." Clemency, however, was denied; and the doctor was committed to the Compter in preparation for his trial. On the 19th of February, Dr Dodd, being put to the bar at the Old Bailey, addressed the Court in the following. words:―

"My lords,―

I am informed that the bill of indictment against me has been found on the evidence of Mr Robertson, who was taken out of Newgate, without any authority or leave from your lordships, for the purpose of procuring the bill to be found. Mr Robertson is a subscribing witness to the bond, and, as I conceive, would he swearing to exculpate himself if he should be admitted as a witness against me; and as the bill has been found upon his evidence, which was surreptitiously obtained, I submit to your lordships that I ought not to be compelled to plead on this indictment; and upon this question I beg to he heard by my counsel. I beg leave also further to observe to your lordships, that the gentlemen on the other side of the question are bound over to prosecute Mr Robertson."

Previously to the arguments of the counsel, an order which had been surreptitiously obtained from an officer of the court, dated Wednesday, February 19, and directed to the keeper of Newgate, commanding him to carry Lewis Robertson to Hicks's Hall, in order to his giving evidence before the grand inquest on the present bill of indictment ―as well as a resolution of the Court, reprobating the said order -- and also the recognizance entered into by Mr Manly, Mr Peach, Mr Tunis, and the Right Hon. the Earl of Chesterfield to prosecute and give evidence against Dr Dodd and Lewis Robertson for forgery -- were ordered to he read; and the clerk of the arraigns was directed to inform the Court whether the name "Lewis Robertson" was indorsed as a witness on the back of the indictment, which was answered in the affirmative.

The counsel now proceeded in their arguments for and against the prisoner. Mr Howarth, one of Dr Dodd's advocates, contended that no person ought to plead or answer to an indictment, if it appeared upon the face of that indictment that the evidence upon which the bill was found was not legal, or competent to have been adduced before the grand jury.

Mr Cooper and Mr Bailer, on the same side pursued the same line of argument with equal ingenuity, and expressed a hope that Dr Dodd would not be called upon to plead to an indictment found upon such evidence as had been pointed out but that the indictment would be ordered to be quashed.

The counsel for the prosecution advanced various arguments in opposition to those employed on the other side, and the learned judge having taken note of the objection, it was agreed that the trial should proceed, the question of the competency of Mr Robertson as a witness being reserved for the consideration of the twelve judges.

The doctor was then arraigned upon the indictment which charged him in the usual terms with the forgery upon the Earl of Chesterfield; and the evidence in proof of the facts above stated having been given, the Court called upon the prisoner for his defence. He addressed the Court and jury in the following terms

"My lords and gentlemen of the jury, -- Upon the evidence which has this day been produced against me, I find it very difficult to address your lordships. There is no man in the world who has a deeper sense of the heinous nature of the crime for which I stand indicted than myself: I view it, my lords, in all its extent of malignancy towards a commercial state like ours; but, my lords, I humbly apprehend, though no lawyer, that the moral turpitude and malignancy of the crime always, both in the eye of the law and of religion, consists in the intention. I am informed, my lords, that the act of parliament on this head runs perpetually in this style, with an intention to defraud. Such an intention, my lords and gentlemen of the jury, I believe, has not been attempted to be proved upon me, and the consequences that have happened, which have appeared before you, sufficiently prove that a perfect and ample restitution has been made. I leave it, my lords, to you and the gentlemen of the jury to consider, that if an unhappy man ever deviates from the law of right, yet if in the single first moment of recollection he does all that he can to make a full and perfect amends, what, my lords and gentlemen of the jury, can God and man desire further? My lords, there are a variety of little circumstances too tedious to trouble you with, with respect to this matter. Were I to give loose to my feelings, I have many things to say which I am sure you would feel with respect to me; but as it appears on all hands, that no injury, intentional or real, has been done to any man living, I hope that you will consider the case in its true state of clemency. I must observe to your lordships, that though I have met with all candour in this court, yet I have been pursued with excessive cruelty; I have been prosecuted after the most express engagements, after the most solemn assurances, after the most delusive, soothing arguments of Mr Manly; I have been prosecuted with a cruelty scarcely to be paralleled. A person avowedly criminal in the same indictment as myself has been brought forth as a capital witness against me; a fact, I believe, totally unexampled. My lords, oppressed as I am with infamy, loaded as I am with distress, sunk under this cruel prosecution, your lordships and the gentlemen of the jury cannot think life a matter of any value to me. No, my lords, I solemnly protest, that death of all blessings would be the most pleasant to me after this pain. I have yet, my lords, ties which call upon me -- ties which render me desirous even to continue this miserable existence. I have a wife, my lords, who, for twenty-seven years, has lived an unparalleled example of conjugal attachment and fidelity, and whose behaviour during this trying scene would draw tears of approbation, I am sure, even from the most inhuman. My lords, I have creditors, honest men, who will lose much by my death. I hope, for the sake of justice towards them, some mercy will be shown to me. If, upon the whole, these considerations at all avail with you -- if, upon the most impartial survey of matters, not the slightest intention of injury can appear to any one -- (and I solemnly declare it was in my power to replace it in three months -- of this I assured Mr Robertson frequently, and had his solemn assurances that no man should be privy to it but Mr Fletcher and himself) -- and if no injury was done to any man upon earth, I then hope, I trust, I fully confide myself in the tenderness, humanity, and protection, of my country."

The jury retired for about ten minutes, and then returned with a verdict that "the prisoner was guilty;" but at the same time presented a petition, humbly recommending the doctor to the royal mercy.

It was afterwards declared that upon the reserved point, the opinion of the judges was, that he had been legally convicted. On the last day of the sessions Dr Dodd was again put to the bar to receive judgment. The clerk of the arraigns then addressed him, saying,

"Dr William Dodd, you stand convicted of forgery, what have you to say why this court should not give you judgment to die, according to law?"

In reply Dr Dodd addressed the court as follows:―

"My lord,

I now stand before you a dreadful example of human infirmity. I entered upon public life with the expectations common to young men whose education has been liberal, and whose abilities have been flattered; and, when I became a clergyman, I considered myself as not impairing the dignity of the order. I was not an idle, nor, I hope, a useless minister: I taught the truths of Christianity with the zeal of conviction and the authority of innocence.

"My labours were approved, my pulpit became popular, and I have reason to believe that, of those who heard me, some have been preserved from sin, and some have been reclaimed. Condescend, my lord, to think, if these considerations aggravate my crime, how much they must embitter my punishment!

"Being distinguished and elevated by the confidence of mankind, I had too much confidence in myself; and, thinking my integrity -- what others thought it -- established in sincerity, and fortified by religion, I did not consider the danger of vanity, nor suspect the deceitfulness of mine own heart. The day of conflict came, in which temptation seized and overwhelmed me! I committed the crime, which I entreat your lordship to believe that my conscience hourly represents to me in its full bulk of mischief and malignity. Many have been overpowered by temptation, who are now among the penitent in heaven! To an act now waiting the decision of vindictive justice I will now presume to oppose the counterbalance of almost thirty years (a great part of the life of man) passed in exciting and exercising charity -- in relieving such distresses as I now feel -- in administering those consolations which I now want. I will not otherwise extenuate my offence than by declaring, what I hope will appear to many, and what many circumstances make probable, that I did not intend finally to defraud: nor will it become me to apportion my own punishment, by alleging that my sufferings have been not much less than my guilt; I have fallen from reputation which ought to have made me cautious, and from a fortune which ought to have given me content. I am sunk at once into poverty and scorn; my name and my crime fill the ballads in the streets; the sport of the thoughtless, and the triumph of the wicked! It may seem strange, my lord, that, remembering what I have lately been, I should still wish to continue what I am! but contempt of death, how speciously soever it may mingle with human virtues, has nothing in it suitable to Christian penitence. Many motives impel me to beg earnestly for life. I feel the natural horror of a violent death, the universal dread of untimely dissolution. I am desirous to recompense the injury I have done to the clergy, to the world, and to religion, and to efface the scandal of my crime, by the example of my repentance: but, above all, I wish to die with thoughts more composed, and calmer preparation. The gloom and confusion of a prison, the anxiety of a trial, the horrors of suspense, and the inevitable vicissitudes of passion, leave not the mind in a due disposition for the holy exercises of prayer and self-examination. Let not a little life be denied me, in which I may, by meditation and contrition, prepare myself to stand at the tribunal of Omnipotence, and support the presence of that Judge, who shall distribute to all according to their works: who will receive and pardon the repenting sinner, and from whom the merciful shall obtain mercy! For these reasons, my lords, amidst shame and misery, I yet wish to live; and most humbly implore, that I may be recommended by your lordship to the clemency of his majesty."

Here he sunk down overcome with mental agony, and some time elapsed before he was sufficiently recovered to hear the dreadful sentence of the law, which the Recorder pronounced upon him in the following words:

"Dr William Dodd,

"You have been convicted of the offence of publishing a forged and countefeit bond, knowing it to be forged and counterfeited; and you have had the advantage which the laws of this country afford to every man in your situation, a fair, an impartial, and an attentive trial. The jury, to whose justice you appealed, have found you guilty; their verdict has undergone the consideration of the learned judges, and they found no ground to impeach the justice of that verdict; you yourself have admitted the justice of it; and now the very painful duty that the necessity of the law imposes upon the court, to pronounce the sentence of that law against you, remains only to be performed. You appear to entertain a very proper sense of the enormity of the offence which you have committed; you appear, too, in a state of contrition of mind, and I, doubt not, have duly reflected how far the dangerous tendency of the offence you have been guilty of is increased by the influence of example, in being committed by a person of your character, and of the sacred function of which you are a member. These sentiments seem to be yours; I would wish to cultivate such sentiments; but I would not wish to add to the anguish of your mind by dwelling upon your situation. Your application for mercy must be made elsewhere; it would be cruel in the court to flatter you; there is a power of dispensing mercy, where you may apply. Your own good sense, and the contrition you express, will induce you to lessen the influence of the example by publishing your hearty and sincere detestation of the offence of which you are convicted; and will show you that to attempt to palliate or extenuate it, would indeed add to the influence of a crime of this kind being committed by a person of your character and known abilities. I would therefore warn you against any thing of that kind. Now, having said this, I am obliged to pronounce the sentence of the law, which is― That you, Doctor William Dodd, be carried from hence to the place from whence you came; that from thence you be carried to the place of execution, and that there you be hanged by the neck until you are dead." To this Dr Dodd replied, " Lord Jesus, receive my soul!" and was immediately conveyed from the bar.

Great exertions were now made to save Dr Dodd. The newspapers were filled with letters and paragraphs in his favour; individuals of all ranks exerted themselves in his behalf; the members of several charities which had been benefited by him joined in application to the throne for mercy; parish officers went in mourning from house to house, to procure subscriptions to a petition to the king; and this petition, which, with the names of nearly thirty thousand persons, filled twenty-three sheets of parchment, was actually presented. Even the lord mayor and common council went in a body to St James's, to solicit mercy for the convict. These were, however, of no avail. On the 15th of June the privy council assembled, and deliberated on the cases of the several prisoners then under condemnation; and in the end a warrant was ordered to be made out for the execution of Dr Dodd, with two others (one of whom was afterwards reprieved), on the 27th of the same month.

Having been flattered with the hopes of a pardon, he appeared to be much shocked at the intimation of his approaching destiny; but resumed in a short time a degree of fortitude sufficient to enable him to pass through the last scene of his life with firmness and decency. On the 26th he took leave of his wife and some friends, and he afterwards declared himself ready to atone for the offence he had given to the world. His deportment was meek, humble, and devout, expressive of resignation and contrition, and calculated to inspire sentiments of respect for his person, and concern for his unhappy fate.

He was attended to the fatal spot, in a mourning-coach, by the Rev Mr Villette, Ordinary of Newgate, and the Rev Mr Dobey. Another criminal, named John Harris, was executed at the same time. It is impossible to give an idea of the immense crowds of people that thronged the streets from Newgate to Tyburn. When the prisoners arrived at the fatal tree, and were placed in the cart, Dr Dodd exhorted his fellow sufferer in so generous a manner, as testified that he had not forgotten his duty as a clergyman; and he was also very fervent in the exercise of his own devotions. Just before he was turned off, he was observed to whisper to the executioner; and, although we have not the means of ascertaining the precise purport of his remark, it is pretty obvious from the fact, that as soon as the cart had been drawn away from the gibbet, he ran immediately under the scaffold and took hold of the doctor's legs as if to steady his body, and the unfortunate gentleman appeared to die without pain.

Of his behaviour before execution a particular account was given by Mr Villette, Ordinary of Newgate, in the following terms:―

"On the morning of his death I went to him, with the Rev Mr Dobey, Chaplain of the Magdalen, whom he desired to attend him to the place of execution. He appeared composed; and when I asked him how he had been supported, he said that he had had some comfortable sleep, by which he should be the better enabled to perform his duty,

"As we went from his room, in our way to the chapel, we were joined by his friend, who had spent the foregoing evening with him, and also by another clergyman. When we were in the vestry adjoining the chapel, he exhorted his fellow-sufferer, who had attempted to destroy himself, but had been prevented by the vigilance of the keeper. He spoke to him with great tenderness and emotion of heart, entreating him to consider that he had but a short time to live, and that it was highly necessary that he, as well as himself, made good use of their time, implored pardon of God under a deep sense of sin, and looked to that Lord by Whose merits alone sinners can he saved. He desired me to call in the other gentlemen, who likewise assisted him to move the heart of the poor youth; but the Doctor's words were the most pathetic and effectual. He lifted up his hands, and cried out 'Oh I Lord Jesus, have mercy upon us! and give, oh! give unto him, my fellow sinner, that, as we suffer together, we may go together to Heaven!' His conversation to this poor youth was so moving, that tears flowed from the eyes of all present.

"When we went into the chapel to prayer and the holy communion, true contrition and warmth of devotion appeared evident in him throughout the whole service. After it was ended, he again addressed himself to Harris in the most moving and persuasive manner, and not without effect; for he declared that he was glad that he had not made away with himself, and said he was easier, and hoped he should now go to Heaven. The Doctor told him how Christ had suffered for them; and that he himself was a greater sinner than he, as he had sinned against light and conviction, and there fore his guilt was greater; and that as he was confident that mercy was shown to his soul, so he should look to Christ and trust in His merits.

"He prayed God to bless his friends who were present with him, and to give his blessing to all his brethren the clergy; that he would pour out His spirit upon them, and make them true ministers of Jesus Christ, and that they might follow the divine precepts of their heavenly Master. Turning to one who stood near him, he stretched out his hand, and said, 'Now, my dear friend, speculation is at an end; all must be real! What poor ignorant beings we are!' He prayed for the Magdalens, and wished they were there, to sing for him the 23d Psalm.

"After he had waited some time for the officers, he asked what o'clock it was; and, being told that it was half an hour after eight, he said 'I wish they were ready, for I long to be gone.' He requested of his friends, who were in tears about him, to pray for him; to which he was answered, by two of them, 'We pray more than language can utter.' He replied, 'I believe it.'

"At length he was summoned to go down into a part of the yard which is enclosed from the rest of the gaol, where the two unhappy convicts and the friends of the doctor were alone. On his seeing two prisoners looking out of the windows, he went to them, and exhorted them so pathetically, that they both wept abundantly. He said once, 'I am now a spectacle to men, and shall soon he a spectacle to angels.'

"Just before the sheriff's officers came with the halters, one who was walking with him told him that there was yet a little ceremony he must pass through before he went out. He asked 'What is that?' -- 'You will be bound.' He looked up, and said, 'Yet I am free; my freedom is there,' pointing upwards. He bore it with Christian patience, and beyond what might have been expected; and, when the men offered to excuse tying his hands, he desired them to do their duty, and thanked them for their kindness. After he was bound, I offered to assist him with my arm in conducting him through the yard, where several people were assembled to see him; but he replied, with seeming pleasure,' No, I am as firm as a rock.' As he passed along the yard, the spectators and prisoners wept and bemoaned him; and he, in return, prayed God to bless them.

"On the way to execution he consoled himself in reflecting and speaking on what Christ had suffered for him; lamented the depravity of human nature, which made sanguinary laws necessary; and said he could gladly have died in the prison-yard, as being led out to public execution tended greatly to distress him. He desired me to read to him the 51st Psalm, and also pointed out an admirable penitential prayer from ' Rossell's Prisoner's Director.' He prayed again for the king, and likewise for the people.

"When he came near the street where he formerly dwelt he was much affected, and wept. He said, probably his tears would seem to be the effect of cowardice, but it was a weakness he could not well help; and added, he hoped he was going to a better home.

"When he arrived at the gallows he ascended the cart, and spoke to his fellow-sufferer. He then prayed, not only for himself, but also for his wife, and the unfortunate youth that suffered with him; and, declaring that he died in the true faith of the Gospel of Christ, in perfect love and charity with all mankind, and with thankfulness to his friends, he was launched into eternity, imploring mercy for his soul for the sake of his blessed Redeemer."

A paper, of which the following is a copy, had been delivered by Dr Dodd to Mr Villette to be read at the place of execution, but was omitted as it seemed impossible to make all present aware of its contents.

"To the words of dying men regard has always been paid. I am brought hither to suffer for an act of fraud, of which I confess myself guilty with shame, such as my former state of life naturally produces, and I hope with such sorrow as He, to Whom the heart is known, will not disregard. I repent that I have violated the laws by which peace and confidence are established among men; I repent that I have attempted to injure my fellow creatures; and I repent that I have brought disgrace upon my order, and discredit upon religion: but my offences against God are without number, and can admit only of general confession and general repentance.. Grant, Almighty God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, that my repentance, however late, however imperfect, may not be in vain !

"The little good that now remains in my power is to warn others against those temptations by which I have been seduced. I have always sinned against conviction; my principles have never been shaken; I have always considered the Christian religion as a revelation from God, and its Divine Author as the Saviour of the world; but the laws of God, though never disowned by me, have often been forgotten. I was led astray from religious strictness by the delusion of show and the delights of voluptuousness. I never knew or attended to the calls of frugality, or the needful minuteness of painful economy. Vanity and pleasure, into which I plunged, required expense disproportionate to my income; expense brought distress upon me; and distress, importunate distress, urged me to temporary fraud.

"For this fraud I am to die; and I die declaring, in the most solemn manner, that, however I have deviated from my own precepts, I have taught others, to the best of my knowledge, and with all sincerity, the true way to eternal happiness. My life, for some few unhappy years past, has been dreadfully erroneous; but my ministry has been always sincere. I have constantly believed; and I now leave the world solemnly avowing my conviction, that there is no other name under Heaven by which we can be saved but only the name of the Lord Jesus; and I entreat all who are here to join with me in my last petition, that, for the sake of that Lord Jesus Christ, my sins may be forgiven, and my soul received into His everlasting kingdom.

"June 27, 1777." "WILLIAM DODD,"

The body of the Doctor was on the Monday following carried to Cowley, in Buckinghamshire, and deposited in the church there.

During the doctor's confinement in Newgate (a period of several months) he chiefly employed him self in writing various pieces, which show at once his piety and talent. The principal of these were his "Thoughts in Prison," in five parts, from which we cannot doubt but that our readers, in finishing our life of so eminent, yet unfortunate, a man, will be gratified by the insertion of a few short extracts.

"I began these Thoughts," says the unhappy man, writing in Newgate, under date of the 23d of April, 1777, after his condemnation, "merely from the impression in my mind, without plan, purpose, or motive, more than the situation of my soul.

"I continued thence on a thoughtful and regular plan; and I have been enabled wonderfully, in a state which in better days I should have supposed would have destroyed all power of reflection, to bring them nearly to a conclusion. I dedicate them to God, and the reflecting serious among my fellow-creatures; and I bless the Almighty for the ability to go through them amidst the terrors of this dire place (Newgate), and the bitter anguish of my disconsolate mind. The thinking will easily pardon all inaccuracies, as I am neither able nor willing to read over these melancholy lines with a curious or critical eye. They are imperfect, but in the language of the heart; and, had I time and inclination, might, and should be, improved. -- But --

(Signed) "W. D."

The unfortunate author's Thoughts on his Imprisonment are thus introduced:--

"My friends are gone! harsh on its sullen hinge

Grates the dread door: the massy bolts respond

Tremendous to the surly keeper's touch:

The dire keys clang, with movement dull and slow,

While their behest the ponderous locks perform:

And, fasten'd firm, the object of their care

Is left to solitude -- to sorrow left.

"But wherefore fasten'd? Oh! still stronger bonds

Than bolts or locks, or doors of molten brass,

To solitude and sorrow could consign

His anguish'd soul, and prison him, though free

For whither should he fly, or where produce

In open day, and to the golden sun,

His hapless head! whence every laurel torn,

On his bald brow sits grinning infamy:

And all in sportive triumph twines around

The keen, the stinging arrows of disgrace"

After dwelling on the miseries of that dreary confinement, at sight of which he formerly started back with horror, he adds

O dismal change! now not in friendly sort

A Christian visitor, to pour the balm

Of Christian comfort in some wretch's ear --

I am that wretch myself! and want, much want,

That Christian consolation I bestow'd;

So cheerfully bestow'd! Want, want, my God,

From Thee the mercy, which, Thou know'st my gladsome soul

Ever sprang forth with transport to impart.

"Why then, mysterious Providence, pursued

With such unfeeling ardour? Why pursued

To death's dread bourn, by men to me unknown!

Why -- stop the deep question; it o'erwhelms my soul:

It reels, it staggers! Earth turns round! My brain

Whirls in confusion! My impetuous heart

Throbs with pulsation not to be restrain'd;

Why? -- Where? -- O Chesterfield, my son, my son!"

The unfortunate divine afterwards thus proceeds: --

"Nay, talk not of composure! I had thought

In older time, that my weak heart was soft,

And pity's self might break it. I had thought

That marble-eyed Severity would crack

The slender nerves which guide my reins of sense,

And give me up to madness! 'Tis not so;

My heart is callous, and my nerves are tough;

It will not break; they will not crack; or else

What more, just heaven! was wanting to the deed,

Than to behold -- Oh! that eternal night

Had in that moment screened from myself!

My Stanhope to behold! Ah! piercing sight!

Forget it; 'tis distraction speak who can!

But I am lost! a criminal adjudged!"

It is not a little singular that Dr Dodd, a few years before his death, published a sermon, intitled, "The frequency of capital punishments inconsistent with justice, sound policy, and religion." This, he says, was intended to have been preached at the Chapel Royal, at St James's; but omitted on account of the absence of the court, during the author's month of waiting.

The following extract will show the unfortunate man's opinion on this subject, although there is no reason to suppose that he then contemplated the commission of the crime for which he suffered. He says:-- "It would be easy to show the injustice of those laws which demand blood for the slightest offences; the superior justice and propriety of inflicting perpetual and laborious servitude; the greater utility hereof to the sufferer, as well as to the state, especially wherein we have a variety of necessary occupations, peculiarly noxious and prejudicial to the lives of the honest and industrious, and in which they might be employed, who had forfeited their lives and their liberties to society."

Surely this tale will be a lesson against extravagance, and will teach us to be content in the station of life in which Providence hath placed us. The fate of this unhappy man furnishes, likewise, the strongest argument against the crime of forgery; for if all the interest that was exerted to save Dr Dodd could have no weight, no one hereafter guilty of it ought to expect a pardon. If, then, any one should be tempted  to the commission of it, let him reflect on this case; let him, moral and religious considerations apart, stay the hasty hand, and let him retract the rash resolution.

We shall conclude this narrative with an extract from an address which Dr Dodd wrote, after conviction, to his fellow prisoners; because we deem it well worthy the public attention. -- 'There is always,' says the doctor, 'a danger lest men, fresh from a trial in which life has been lost, should remember with resentment and malignity the prosecutor, the witnesses, or the judges. It is indeed scarcely possible, with all the prejudices of an interest so weighty, and so affecting, that the convict should think otherwise than that he has been treated, in some part of the process, with unnecessary severity. In this opinion he is perhaps singular, and therefore probably mistaken: but there is no time for disquisition; we must try to find the shortest way to peace. It is easier to forgive than to reason right. He that has been injuriously or unnecessarily harrassed, has one opportunity more of proving his sincerity, by forgiving the wrong, and praying for his enemy.

'It is the duty of a penitent to repair, as far as he has the power, the injury he has done. What we can do is commonly nothing more than to leave the world an example of contrition. On the dreadful day, when the sentence of the law has its full force, some will be found to have affected a shameless bravery, or negligent intrepidity. Such is not the proper behaviour of a convicted criminal. To rejoice in tortures is the privilege of a martyr; to meet death with intrepidity is the right only of innocence, if in any human being innocence could be found. Of him whose life is shortened by his crimes, the last duties are humility and self-abasement. We owe to God sincere repentance; we owe to man the appearance of repentance. Men have died with a steadfast denial of crimes, of which it is very difficult to suppose them innocent. By what equivocation or reserve they may have reconciled their consciences to falsehood it is impossible to know: but if they thought that, when they were to die, they paid their legal forfeit, and that the world had no farther demand upon them; that there fore they might, by keeping their own secrets, try to leave behind them a disputable reputation; and that the falsehood was harmless because none were injured; they had very little considered the nature of society. One of the principal parts of national felicity arises from a wise and impartial administration of justice. Every man reposes upon the tribunals of his country the stability of possession, and the serenity of life. He therefore who unjustly exposes the courts of judicature to suspicion, either of partiality or error, not only does an injury to those who dispense the laws, but diminishes the public confidence in the laws them selves, and shakes the foundation of public tranquillity.

'For my own part, I confess, with deepest compunction, the crime which has brought me to this place; and admit the justice of my sentence, while I am sinking under its severity.'

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45: John Harrison

An Assurance Corporation Accountant, who was convicted of Forgery in 1777, but afterwards received his Majesty's Pardon

MR HARRISON was accountant to the London Assurance Corporation, and it was his peculiar misfortune to be acquainted with a Mr Angus Mackey, a merchant in the city in an extensive way of trade, who, by urgent solicitations, prevailed upon the unsuspecting and good-natured man to lend him several sums belonging to the company, solemnly promising to return the money before he would have occasion to make up his accounts.

When the time appointed for the first payment arrived,  instead of returning what he had already got into his possession, Mackey urged Harrison for a further supply, assuring him that he was in daily expectation of remittances, on the receipt of which he would return the whole sum that Harrison was deficient in his account with the company; adding that, if he met with a refusal, he must inevitably stop payment, which would necessarily occasion an exposure of Harrison's violation of the trust reposed in him by the company.

In this manner was the unfortunate man pacified for several months, during which time he supplied Mackey with different sums, amounting in the whole to seven thousand, five hundred and fifty pounds; and, to prevent detection, he inserted figures in the book containing the account between the Bank of England and the London Assurance Company, so that the bank appeared to be  debtor for seven thousand, five hundred and fifty pounds more than had been paid there.

He sent a clerk with two hundred and ten pounds to the bank, and when the book was returned to him he put a figure 3 before the 2, which made the sum appear three thousand pounds more than was really paid; and similar alterations were made in other parts of the book.

A committee of the company being appointed to meet on Wednesday, the 9th of July, 1777, Mr Harrison mentioned the circumstance to Mackey, and told him that he would be utterly ruined unless the deficiency in the company's cash was made good before that day: but, notwithstanding the life and reputation of his generous and imprudent friend were at stake, he neglected to return the money.

About eleven in the forenoon of the day on which the committee was to be held, Harrison placed several account-books on the table of the committee-room, and had some conversation with Alexander Aubert, Esq., the deputy governor. When the committee was about to be opened Harrison absconded; and about ten minutes after the following letter was received by Mr George Hall, secretary to the company:--

DEAR SIR,

I am distressed beyond expression, having forfeited everything that is dear to me, by an act of kindness to a friend who has deceived me. Enclosed is a state of my account with the company, which tortures my very soul to think of it. I know the Treasury will not forgive me, therefore don't care what becomes of me, as I dare not see them any more. God Almighty knows what will become of me, or where I shall fly for succour. Indeed, Mr Hall, I am one of the most miserable wretches living, but I have betrayed my trust, for which I never can forgive myself. When I parted with the money, it was but for a few days, or I would sooner have died than have parted with it; but, alas I I shall now severely pay for suffering myself to be drawn in to serve a friend who knew it was not my own, and saw the distress of mind it cost me when I did it. Please to present my humble duty to the gentlemen: tell them I can meet any death after this sooner than I can see them again, and am determined not to survive the shame. I am, dear sir, a lost, unhappy being. I am so bewildered that I scarce know what I am doing, but believe the enclosed account is not right, as I don't recollect that I am any way short of cash; but in truth I am not myself.

J. H.

When Harrison absconded he left upwards of one thousand, nine hundred pounds in his desk, and among his papers were found securities on behalf of the company to a great amount, besides a bond given to him by Mackey for seven thousand, five hundred and fifty pounds.

Notice being given at the office that Harrison was at a friend's house at Wapping, Mr Aubert went there in the evening, and found him in a state of mind little short of distraction. Mackey's bond was produced by Mr Aubert, and Harrison assigned it over to him as a security on behalf of the company. He accompanied Mr Aubert to the office, where two persons were ordered to attend him and prevent his putting an end to his life, which there was sufficient reason to suppose he would attempt; and the next morning he was taken before Sir John Fielding, who committed him to Tothill Fields Bridewell. He was re-examined the following Wednesday, and committed to Newgate in preparation for his trial.

He was tried at the Old Bailey in the September sessions, 1777, on an indictment for forgery, consisting of twenty-four counts; on twelve of which the jury pronounced him guilty. The prisoner's counsel objected to judgment being passed, on account of a supposed inaccuracy in the indictment and the matter was left to be argued by the judges.

Having remained in Newgate some months after his trial, Mr Harrison petitioned for the judges to meet, and that he might be heard by counsel. He was advised by an illustrious personage to waive the plea on which his petition was founded, and in consequence thereof the petition was immediately withdrawn. In a few days a messenger came to Newgate and delivered to Mr Harrison the agreeable news that his Majesty had been graciously pleased to grant him an unconditional pardon; and the same evening an order was delivered to Mr Akerman for his immediate enlargement.

Mr Harrison was brought up in a merchant's counting-house, and soon after the expiration of his apprenticeship he began business on his own account, and had a lime and coal wharf at Limehouse, where he carried on an extensive trade; but failing in that business, he engaged himself as a clerk to Mr Smithen, previous to that gentleman's undertaking to construct the Eddystone Lighthouse, and was entrusted with the care and management of all the money employed in that important work. His conduct under Mr Smithen was in every respect unexceptionable; and that gentleman and many other respectable persons used their interest to procure him the office of accountant  to the London Assurance Company, in whose service he would in all probability have continued till his death but for his unhappy connection with Mackey.

Harrison had been accountant to the London Assurance Company nineteen years and a half when it was discovered that he had betrayed the confidence reposed in him; and till that period his character was without a blemish, and he was held in the highest esteem by all of his acquaintances.

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46: Francis Mercier otherwise Louis de Butte

Executed in Prince's Street, opposite Swallow Street, in the City of Westminster, 8th of December, 1777, for Murder

THIS malefactor was a Frenchman, and was convicted at the sessions held at the Old Bailey on the 6th of December, 1777, of the murder of Monsieur Jaques Mondroyte, his countryman, attended by singular circumstances of treachery and premeditated cruelty.

Jaques Mondroyte was a jeweller and watchmaker of Paris, and had made a journey to London in order to find a market for different articles of his manufacture. His stock consisted of curious and costly articles, worth, as was computed, a few thousand pounds. He took lodgings in Prince's Street, and engaged Mercier, who had resided some time in London, as his interpreter, on a liberal gratuity, and treated him as a friend.

It appeared that the ungrateful villain had long determined upon murdering his employer, in order effectually to possess himself of the whole his valuable property.

To this diabolical end he gave orders for an instrument to be made of a singular construction. It was shaped somewhat like an Indian tomahawk, and this instrument of death he concealed until an opportunity offered to complete his detestable purpose.

One day his employer, Mondroyte, invited him to spend the evening; they played at cards, sang some French songs, and took a cheerful glass, but with that moderation from which Frenchmen seldom depart. Thus the time passed until it grew late, when the interpreter was asked to stay the night. The ungrateful villain pretended to hesitate, but at length assented.

As soon as all the inhabitants were wrapped in sleep, Mercier took from the lining of his coat, where he constantly carried it, the fatal weapon, with which he struck the unconscious victim repeatedly on the head until he was killed. He thrust the body into one of the trunks in which the owner had brought over his merchandise, and plundered the apartments. He then locked the doors and made his escape.

Next day he had the effrontery to return to the house and inquire whether Monsieur Mondroyte had set off, pretending that he had proposed a journey into the country; and the people of the house, concluding that he had let himself out before they had risen, and which accounted for their finding the street door on the latch, replied that he must have departed, giving that circumstance as a reason for such belief. This audacious farce was acted by the murderer for some days, during which time he frequently called to know whether his friend had returned.

The family, however, beginning to entertain suspicions of some foul play, procured a ladder, entered the chamber window, and soon discovered the body, which had been crammed into the trunk, and was beginning to putrefy. A warrant was granted to apprehend Mercier, whom they took just as he was alighting from a post-chaise, in which he had been jaunting with a woman of the town. In his lodgings and on his person were found sixteen gold watches, some of great value, a great number of brilliant diamond and other rings, a variety of gold trinkets and seventy-five guineas.

On his examination he confessed the fact, which added to the proof that the manufactured articles had been the property of Mondroyte. He was convicted, and sentenced to be hanged on the following Monday.

He was accordingly carried to execution, opposite the place where he committed the murder.

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47: John Holmes and Peter Williams

Publicly whipped, by the Sentence of the Middlesex Court of Quarter Sessions, for December, 1777, for stealing Dead Bodies

THE sum of all our long list of thieves, and their different deceptions and modes of plunder, surely were those detested monsters of depravity who broke into the sacred deposit of the dead and robbed the graves of the bodies of our departed fellow- creatures, for the sole purpose of selling them to surgeons for dissection.

The impious robbers were vulgarly called, in London, "Resurrection Men," but rather should have been called "Sacrilegious Robbers of our Holy Church," not even confining the unnatural crime to men alone. The gentler sex were connected in this horrid traffic, whose business it was to strip off the shroud, or whatever garments in which the body might have been wrapped, and sell them, while the men, through the darkness of night, dragged the naked bodies to be anatomised.

When Hunter, the famous anatomist, was in full practice, he had a surgical theatre behind his house, in Windmill Street, where he gave lectures to a very numerous class of pupils. To this place such numbers of dead bodies were brought during the winter season that the mob rose several times, and were upon the point of pulling down his house. He had a well dug in the back part of his premises, wherein was thrown the putrid flesh, and with it alkalines, in order to hasten the consumption thereof.

Numberless were the instances of dead bodies seized to be carried to the surgeons. Hackney-coachmen, for an extra fare, and porters with hampers, were often employed by these resurrection men for this purpose.

A monthly publication, in March, 1776, says: "The remains of more than twenty bodies were discovered in a shed in Tottenham Court Road, supposed to have been deposited there by traders to the surgeons; of whom there is one, it is said, in the borough, who makes an open profession of dealing in dead bodies, and is well known by the name of 'The Resurrectionist.' "

Still more shocking was it to be told that men who were paid for protecting the sacred deposit of the mortal remains of their fellow-parishioners were often confederates with those carcass stealers, as the present case will demonstrate.

Holmes, the principal villain in this case, was grave-digger of St George's, Bloomsbury; Williams was his assistant, and a woman, named Esther Donaldson, an accomplice. They were all indicted for stealing the dead body of Mrs Jane Sainsbury, who departed this life on the 9th of October, then last past, and the corpse was interred in the burying-ground of St George's on the Monday following. They were detected before they could secure their booty; and the widower determined, however unpleasant, to prosecute them. In order to their conviction he had to undergo the mental pain of viewing and identifying the remains of his wife!

The gravedigger and his deputy were convicted on the fullest evidence; and it was regretted that it did not reach the woman, though no doubt remained of her equal guilt. She therefore was released, but Holmes and Williams were sentenced to six months' imprisonment, and to be whipped twice on their bare backs, from the end of Kingsgate Street, Holborn, to Diot Street, St Giles's, being half-a-mile, and which was inflicted with the severity due to so detestable an offence, through crowds of exulting spectators.

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48: The Reverend Benjamin Russen

Executed for rape, 12th December, 1777

THIS man was master of the subscription charity-school at Bethnal  Green, in which had been bred up a poor girl named Anne Mayne.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in October, 1777, Benjamin Russen, clerk, was indicted for having committed a rape on the said Anne Mayne, on the 18th of June preceding. The girl deposed that, when Mrs. Russen lay in, the prisoner desired that she (Mayne) might stay below stairs with him, while he went to sleep after dinner, lest he should fall into the fire; and that he took this opportunity to perpetrate the fact with which he was charged; and, after it was committed, said that, if she told her mother, sister, or any body of it, be would flog her severely.

She proved a second commission of a similar fact, during which be looked out at the door, in apprehension that somebody was coming; but this did not happen to be the case. It appeared, likewise, that the crime was committed a third time; but it would be indelicate in the highest degree to recount the particulars of a fact of this nature.

A surgeon, who was present when Mr. Russen was carried before Justice Wilmot, deposed that, on examination of the girl, he did not discover that any absolute violence had been committed.

There were three other indictments against Russen of a similar nature, but he was acquitted of them all. He now proceeded to call several persons to his character, who spoke well of him as far as they knew.

In his defence he denied the fact, and pleaded the malice of his enemies, who, he said, had charged him with those offences to deprive him of his place. He urged the favourable representation of the surgeon, who had sworn that the child had not been materially injured; and insisted that, at the time the fact was charged to have been committed, be was so ill as to keep his chamber.

By endeavouring to prove this he proved too much; for the witness swore that he kept his chamber two months successively, contrary to the tenor of all the other witnesses; so that the jury were induced to think that he had not kept his chamber even one month.

The counsel for the prisoner laboured hard to adduce some proofs of his innocence; but the jury brought in a verdict that the prisoner was guilty; in consequence of which he received sentence of death.

After conviction the behaviour of Mr. Russen was exceedingly proper for a man in his unhappy situation. No very extraordinary exertions were made to obtain a pardon for him, because it was presumed it would not have been granted.

On the morning of execution Mr. Russen was taken from Newgate to Tyburn in a mourning- coach. Just before he left the prison, seeing a number of people about him, he made use of this emphatical expression, 'Stand clear! look to yourselves! I am the first hypocrite in Sion!' The parting scene between himself and his son was extremely affecting.

He was attended in the coach by the Ordinary of Newgate (the Reverend Mr. Hughes), a sheriff's officer, and an undertaker, who bad engaged to conduct the funeral.

At the place of execution Russen seemed to have a proper sense of his past wicked life; but, in regard to the crime for which he suffered, he thought himself ill treated, as he always asserted that he had never been guilty of a rape, though he acknowledged, a day or two before his death, that he had taken liberties with the child which were highly unbecoming. Previous to the prayers commonly used at the place of execution he made a long extempore prayer, and earnestly exhorted the surrounding multitude to take warning by his fate. He likewise censured the indecency of the people, who stood near the gallows with their hats on, and with apparent unconcern, during the time of prayer; and observed that the place where unhappy victims are to suffer the sentence of the law should be held as sacred as a church. He therefore requested the spectators to be uncovered, and to join in their supplications for him to Almighty God, which accordingly several of them complied with; and, after having prayed for his wife and helpless children, he once more recommended his soul to the mercy of God, and was then launched into eternity.

On the way to execution the mob insulted Russen but the propriety of his behaviour at the fatal tree had an evident effect on the  spectators; and, when his body was out down, it was put into a  hearse, and delivered to his friends for interment.

Benjamin Russen was executed at Tyburn on the 12th of December, 1777.

It is with pain that the pen of delicacy touches a subject of this nature; and this pain is increased when we consider that the object  of our remarks was in a line of life that ought to have induced him to set the best example to others. A clergyman who is a school master is bound by a double tie to exhibit every mark of his attention to the duties of religion and morality; and, when he fails of this duty, his example is presumed to have a worse influence than that of a man differently situated.

Mr. Russen had a wife and six children, which was no slight aggravation of his crime.

________________

1778

49: James Elliot

Executed at Maidstone, in March, 1778, for a Forgery on the Bank of England, attended with Circumstances which were left to the Twelve Judges for determination

JAMES ELLIOT had committed forgeries on the Bank of England; but, some intricacy appearing in the case, the solicitor laid five different counts in his indictment, and, though convicted, his case went before the twelve judges, as is customary whenever a doubt arises in the breast of the judge who may try the prisoner.

The following is a sketch of the evidence given upon his trial, which came on at Maidstone, the 24th of July, 1777.

The prisoner had applied to a mould-maker for a pair of fine moulds, in the manner of bills of exchange or notes of hand. He brought three copper-plates, purporting to be notes of the Governor and Company of the Bank of England -- one for one hundred pounds, one for fifty pounds, and one for twenty pounds -- and he gave ten guineas for the three.

A copper-plate printer, of the name of Ryland, swore that he had printed off twenty-five fifty-pound notes and twenty-five of the twenty-pound plate, for which Elliot gave him three guineas, though the usual price was no more than one shilling and sixpence per hundred. These notes were produced in court, and Ryland swore they were the same which he printed, and one in particular of the fifty pounds which was filled up, and upon which the indictment was founded.

This note was very defective, and, among other faults, the word pounds was even left out after the word fifty. Upon this, Elliot's counsel started a point of law on this question: whether that could be called a counterfeit where so essential a part was omitted, without which no specific value could be fixed.

The prisoner was, however, found guilty, but his case was reserved for the opinion of the twelve judges. Sentence was accordingly deferred.

On the 5th of March, 1778, he was again called to the bar, and informed that the judges had overruled his motion; and sentence of death was immediately passed upon him.

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50: John Pierce, Vincent Pierce and Elizabeth Luker

Sentenced to Imprisonment for a Riot at Sadler's Wells Theatre which occasioned the Death of Eighteen of the Audience

THE true cause of this very shocking circumstance, so fatal in its consequences, is known to but few. If it had been occasioned wilfully, for the sake of plunder, the very worst of deaths should have overtaken the offenders.

As it was, the injured proprietors of the theatre, who alone were entitled to prosecute, could only reach the promoters in a conviction of a riot― unattended with proof which would lead to capital punishment.

It appeared that a noisy, intoxicated party, among whom were those convicted, sat in the pit, and were observed during the evening to disturb the audience. At length they so greatly annoyed the peaceable part near them that a quarrel arose, and the woman, Elizabeth Luker, cried out to her debauched male associates:

"Fight! Fight!" This was, unhappily, by distant parts of the house, supposed to be the cry of "Fire! Fire!" So dread an alarm in such a place― hundreds crowded together― will readily be conceived. Each seeking safety in flight, the avenues of the theatre were soon choked up, and the weakest trampled underfoot.

In vain did the performers from the stage call upon them to return; in vain did they assure them that there could be no danger of fire in a theatre filled with water― even a speaking-trumpet, proclaiming to that effect, was not heard.

Eighteen unhappy mortals thus perished. They were mostly females and boys. The men thus numbered with the dead were small, and apparently of weak habits of body.

From the turbulent part, the three above named, who were, however unintentionally, the cause of this havoc, were identified, seized, tried, and convicted of a riot.

Mr Mainwaring, the chairman at the Quarter Sessions at Hicks's Hall, where they were tried, addressed them in a very impressive and solemn manner, to the following effect:―

"John Pierce, Vincent Pierce and Elizabeth Luker, you have been severally convicted on an indictment which charged you with being riotously and tumultuously assembled for the purpose of disturbing the King's peace, and of having resisted the legal authority to suppress your dangerous conduct in a theatre legally authorised, called Sadler's Wells.

"It has appeared that you obtained admission into that theatre; and it has also appeared from the evidence that you repeatedly interrupted the performance, grossly insulted the audience, and obstructed the officers, duly, authorised, in the performance and execution of their duty, when interposing to prevent your rioting. It is necessary, to preserve the public peace, that propriety of demeanour should be observed, from the highest to the lowest, in persons assembled at places of public amusement. The mischievous and fatal effects which have ensued for want of a due observance of the principles of decorum are too numerous to make it necessary for me to recount, and it is to be lamented that hardly a week passes but those disturbances do arise in one or other of the theatres.

"But the calamitous and dreadful events which happened in consequence of your outrageous conduct are distressing in the extreme. Not less than eighteen lives were lost! Whole families were plunged into irremediable ruin by the loss of the protection of those who were their natural protectors and guardians. When informed of the mischief you had occasioned, instead of exhibiting horror and dismay, and showing symptoms of sorrow and compunction, you most unfeelingly replied: 'Well, we don't care; we can't be hanged for it!' But surely, if you are not worse than brutes or savages, and void of the feelings which in general govern human nature, you will hereafter feel compunctions of remorse for the misery you have entailed upon the relatives of the deceased. The sentence which the Court is about to pronounce is slight in comparison with your crimes, and affords no atonement for your offence, but it is to be hoped that the punishment will have the effect of calling you to a proper repentance and contrition, and induce you to conduct yourselves, for the future, at all times, and in all places, with decency. Eighteen of your fellow-creatures by  your improper conduct have been deprived of their lives. Wives of their husbands. Fathers of their children. And children of their parents. And whole families brought to utter ruin by your outrageous conduct. The sentence, therefore, of the Court upon you, John Pierce, is, that you be imprisoned for the space of six months; and that you, Vincent Pierce, be imprisoned for the space of four months; and that you, Elizabeth Luker, be imprisoned only for the space of fourteen days."

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51: George Roach, Robert Elliot And Jonas Parker

Who were convicted, the first two of stealing, and the other of receiving Part of a Lead Coffin from Aldermanbury Church, in 1778

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey in April, 1778, these men were indicted, the first two for stealing a lead coffin, of three hundred pounds' weight, value five pounds, the property of William Thornton Aston, Esq., and Parker for receiving fifty pounds' weight of the lead, value five shillings, knowing the same to have been stolen. The second count in the indictment laid the lead to be the property of the parishioners of Aldermanbury, and stolen by Roach and Elliot; and the third count charged Jonas Parker with receiving it, being the property of the parishioners of Aldermanbury, well knowing it to have been stolen.

William Thornton Aston, Esq., deposed that, on the 1st of January preceding, his brother was interred in a leaden coffin, in the church of Aldermanbury; that the coffin was stolen out of the church, and was missed on the 7th of March.

James Gould, who had been admitted an evidence, deposed that Roach, Elliot and himself were journeymen carpenters, working under Mr Augurs in the repair of the church. He said that on Friday, the 6th of March, he and Roach went into the vault and unscrewed all the screws of Mr Thornton's coffin except two, after which they returned to their work; and that afterwards they and Elliot agreed to work again on the coffin.

On the Saturday morning they went to the church, and about five o'clock a watchman followed them in and desired a board to be planed, which was done by Gould. The accomplices then loosened the other screws and turned the coffins bottom upwards, taking off the outside coffin, and leaving only the shell. They then cut the leaden coffin in pieces, and, replacing the other coffin on the shelf?, screwed it down again. These transactions lasted them till nearly eight in the morning, when they took the pieces of the coffin and, having concealed them under the children's gallery, conferred about selling what they had stolen, when Elliot mentioned Parker, in Grub Street, as a likely purchaser.

The lead being in two pieces, Gould put one of them in a bag and took it away, and the other was put in a basket and carried by one of the accomplices. When they got to London Wall, Elliot beckoned Gould, and they went to a shop, where they offered the lead for sale to a person, who refused to be the purchaser. They then went to Parker's, who weighed the lead without asking them any questions, said it was forty-two pounds, and paid them three shillings and sixpence for it, being at the rate of a penny a pound. When they were going away with the empty bag Mr Augurs's apprentice came in and seized Gould, and desired Parker, who was a constable, to assist in conveying him and Elliot to Mr Augurs. Parker said: "You had better go to your master and try to make the matter up." They went, and were all charged with the felony. Parker said: "Give them a trevalle for it."

Gould, being asked what was meant by that term, said he did not know exactly, but supposed it was a hint to attempt making their escape; on which they made a run for it (to use his own words), and Parker likewise ran away; but they were stopped and taken into custody before they got any considerable distance.

All the prisoners called persons who gave them good characters; but the jury, having fully considered the nature of the evidence, gave a verdict that they were guilty: in consequence of which, at the close of the sessions, Roach and Elliot were sentenced to labour three years on the Thames, and Parker to be imprisoned for a like term of time.

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52: Alexander Scott

City of London hoaxed by a False Proclamation of War, April, 1778

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey in June, 1778, Alexander Scott was indicted for that he, on the 23rd of April last, unlawfully, wickedly and maliciously did publish false news, whereby discord, or occasion of discord, might grow between our Lord the King and his people, or the great men of the realm, by publishing a certain printed paper containing such false news; which said printed paper is of the tenor following:―

"In pursuance of his Majesty's Order in Council to me directed, these are to give public notice that war with France will be proclaimed on Friday next, the 24th instant, at the Palace Royal, St James's, at one of the clock, of which all heralds and pursuivants-at-arms are to take notice, and give their attendance accordingly. Given under my hand this 22nd day of April, 1778.

"EFFINGHAM, D.M."

In this case the prisoner was imposed on by the artifices  of some man who wished to take advantage of the credulity of the good people of England.

Scott was a bill-sticker. Between ten and eleven o'clock on the night of the 22nd of April, 1778, a person muffled up in a greatcoat, and having his hat strapped, went to the prisoner, and told him he came from Mr Strahan, the King's printer, saying, "You stick up bills for him?" Scott answered in the affirmative. The man said he wanted him to stick up some bills in the morning, saying he must stick some round the Exchange, and one at Wood Street, where war was to be proclaimed; and he demanded what Scott wanted for his trouble. The latter inquired how many bills he had, and the stranger said only a dozen. Scott said he would not charge Mr Strahan anything; but the other said he desired he should be paid, and asked if five shillings would do. Scott said it was too much; but his employer insisted on his taking the money, saying it was a thing that did not happen every day.

In the morning Scott stuck up nine of the bills about the Royal Exchange, and one at the end of Wood Street; and as he is an engine-keeper, as well as a bill-sticker, he went afterwards before justice Girdler to make affidavit respecting a fire that had happened.

Meanwhile the town was alarmed by the supposed extra ordinary news: stocks fell one per cent; and the circumstance coming to the knowledge of the Lord Mayor he sent to the west end of the town to inquire into the truth of the affair, and found it was all an imposition.

In the meantime Richard Willis having seen Scott stick up some bills at the Royal Exchange, and Thomas Thorn, one of the Exchange keepers, having taken them down, by order of the Lord Mayor, Joseph Gates, an officer, traced Scott to the Golden Cross, a public-house opposite Justice Girdler's, and told him he must go before the Lord Mayor, for he had been guilty of high treason. Scott said: "I hope not; I have a family of children." Scott said, on his trial, that he had read the proclamation, and did not know but that it was true; but he had never seen his employer since that time.

On the trial, the Earl of Effingham, Deputy Marshal of England, under the Duke of Norfolk, deposed that the paper was not printed by his direction; that he knew nothing of it till after it  was stuck up, nor gave any authority to any person to print or publish such a paper.

The jury did not hesitate, to give a verdict that the prisoner was not guilty.

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53: Thomas Horner and James Fryer

Executed for Burglary and Robbery under Threats of Violence, 24th of June, 1778

THE trial of these prisoners took place at the Old Bailey sessions in April, 1778. It appeared that on the evening of the 1st of March the prisoners, with three other men, were seen at Finchley together, and that while drinking in a public-house they made many inquiries of the persons present with regard to the house and family of a Mr Clewen, a gentleman of respectability who resided in the neighbourhood. The same night, between twelve and one o'clock, Mr Clewen's house was entered by five persons, whose faces were disguised, and the noise created by their rushing upstairs was heard by Miss Clewen and her servant, who immediately ran out of their bedchambers to see what was the matter. They were forced to return, however, for three of the men entered their room, and compelled them to cover their heads with the bedclothes, uttering loud threats of violence if they offered any resistance.

The men-servants, who slept at the top of the house, being now alarmed, the thieves proceeded to their apartment, and one of them, named Quick, having got up, received a severe blow with an iron bar, and, like his mistress, was compelled, with his fellows, to cover himself up with the bedclothes. Two fellows then remained to watch them, while the rest went to Mr Clewen's room and treated him in the same manner, and then they proceeded to the bedchamber of his son, whom they forced to go to his father's bed, holding his hands before his eyes so that he should not distinguish who were his assailants. They then ransacked the house, and in about half-an-hour returned, and said that if young Clewen would tell them where the money was they would give him his watch, which they had taken from under his pillow. This being refused they went away, saying that they were only going for some victuals and would return.

The house was then immediately examined by Mr Clewen, when it was found that the thieves had effected an entrance by means of the back door, and that they had fastened up that as well as the front entrance by nailing staples over the locks. It was afterwards discovered that they had carried off twenty-two guineas, fifty pounds in bank-notes, a quantity of plate, several gold rings, a silver watch, and other property to a considerable amount. Information of the robbery was immediately conveyed to Sir John Fielding, whose officers, recognising the offenders from the description given of their persons, succeeded in securing the prisoners― Fryer at a small house which he occupied in the City Road, where were found a number of picklock keys and a hanger; and Horner at his lodgings in Perkins' Rents, Westminster, a cutlass being concealed under his bed. Two supposed accomplices, named Condon and Jordan, were also apprehended, but nothing distinct was proved against them, so they escaped. Jordan, however, was afterwards convicted for a second burglary in Copenhagen House, for which he received sentence of death.

Conviction having followed the production of this evidence, sentence of death was passed. Upon the Sacrament being administered to Horner and Fryer they admitted their guilt, and were executed at Tyburn, on the 24th of June, 1778. The other offenders were subsequently also apprehended and executed.

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54: Francis Lewis otherwise Grimison

Cobweb as a Clue to a Bogus Burglary committed by a Butler, who

was executed at Tyburn, 24th of June, 1778

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey in April, 1778, Francis Lewis otherwise Grimison was indicted for breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Edmondes, Esq., on the night of the 14th of March preceding, and stealing a gold ring set with diamonds, valued at forty pounds, and a variety of plate and other valuable articles, to a very large amount.

The facts are these. The prisoner was butler in the family; his master was out of town, and had discharged the footman before he went. Grimison and three maids were all the servants that were left in the house with Mrs Edmondes. The prisoner, who was a married man, had asked for permission to go to see his wife. He returned about ten at night. Mary Giles, the cook, fastened the door of the area a little before one in the morning. The prisoner slept in the pantry; so that she went to bed and left him in the kitchen.

About three in the morning, as the watchman was passing, he heard a pistol fired in Mr Edmondes's house, on which he rattled with his stick against the iron bars of the area near which the prisoner lay; but receiving no answer he cried the hour, and at half-past three, as he was going his rounds, he heard the prisoner cry out: "O Lord! I shall be dead!" The watchman called out to know what was the matter; and the prisoner answered there were rogues and villains in the house, and he should be dead. The watchman then asked why he did not open the door. He said he could not, for he was tied.

On this the watchman knocked till two servant-maids came down, who found the prisoner tied in his bed, both his hands being tied to his ankles. He said that the house had been broken open; that three men came in; that the age of two of them was from thirty to six-and-thirty, and the other from twenty to four-and-twenty; that they had greatcoats on, and flapped hats; that one held a knife to him, and stood over him all the time, while the other two robbed the house.

Mary Robson, one of the above-mentioned servant-maids, deposed that the prisoner said three men came in, and he fired a pistol at one; and then they tied his hands and legs, and asked where his mistress's jewels were, and where his mistress lay; that then they took the plate out of the closet. She further deposed that he said that the plate was all carried away; that they insisted on having the key, and he gave it to them out of his pocket; that they doubled a silver tea-board together, tied it up in a tablecloth, and carried it away.

Information of this transaction having been given at Bow Street, three persons were apprehended, supposed to be those that the prisoner had described; but they were discharged on his saying they were not the men who had robbed his master.

The day after the robbery was committed Mr Clarke went from Sir John Fielding's office to examine how the burglary had been committed. When he came to Mr Edmondes's house he saw the prisoner sitting by the fire, who had two marks, as if cut with a knife. Mr Clarke took him to the area, on the outside of which was a brick a little broken, on which the robbers were supposed to have stepped. Clarke desired the cook to put up the shutters as they were on the preceding night. She did so. He asked if they were bolted or barred. She said both. He demanded if she would swear before a magistrate that they were bolted and barred. She said she would not swear that she bolted the place, but would swear that she barred it.

Clarke observed that the bar was a little broken, and that it went into a tenterhook, which would have been wrenched if the place had been forced open, But the most remarkable circumstance was this: a pane of glass was broken on the inside of which was a cobweb, which was in such a direction that it would have been carried away if anyone had come through the window.

Clarke now examined the door, and finding that all the  force which had been used was on the inside he had no doubt but that the robbery had been committed by some person within the house; on which he told Mr and Mrs Edmondes his opinion of the affair. But the latter seemed very unwilling to admit even a suspicion to the prejudice of the prisoner.

Mr Clarke then showed the lady the place, and asked her if she had given the prisoner leave to go out on the preceding night. She said she had permitted him to go to see his wife. Clarke, finding that he was married, said: "Depend on it,the things are at his wife's" and, having obtained a direction where she lodged, he dispatched Charles Jealous and another person to the house of a grocer in Goswell Street. There they learned that she had removed to Holywell Street, Clare Market, where they found her, having in her possession a large trunk, with a quantity of plate and clothes in it.

The woman, being taken before Sir John Fielding, acknowledged that she was wife to the prisoner, that they were his lodgings, and that he himself had taken them.

In the interim the husband was taken into custody by Clarke, who desired him to acquaint him where the rest of the plate was, that no imputation might lie against the characters of the other servants. On this he acknowledged that he had thrown it into the cistern of his master's house. Thereupon Clarke went to the house and found the plate at the bottom of the cistern; and among other articles a large waiter bent double.

This and many other pieces of plate were produced in court, and sworn to by the prosecutor: on which the jury gave a verdict that the prisoner was guilty of stealing the goods in the dwelling-house; and at the close of the sessions he received sentence of death.

Of the behaviour of this malefactor after conviction no particular account is transmitted to us. Nor were endeavours exerted to save him, because it was justly presumed that he was unworthy of the Royal mercy.

Francis Lewis otherwise Grimison was executed at Tyburn, on the 24th of June, 1778.

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55: Mary Knight

Executed for the murder of her child, 24th August, 1778

THOUGH we have before had the painful task of relating instances of women murdering their offspring, yet the commission of such unnatural barbarity has generally happened with such unfortunate females as have been seduced and betrayed, and, in that wretched situation, vainly hoped to conceal their shame. But the case of Mary Knight seems without any motive; on the contrary, nothing short of wanton brutality appears to have led her on; and, to add to the horror of the tale, she was convicted chiefly on the evidence of her younger son, a child not nine years old.

The story of the child was credible. He said that his mother sent his brother into the stubble-fields to glean; that when he came home his mother beat him in a most cruel manner with a great stick, for not bringing more corn; that he cried sadly, and she shut him up in the pantry; that some time after the witness called to him to come and play, but he made no answer; that he opened the pantry door, took hold of his hand, and it felt cold.

Then the child further said that be went to his mother, and told her that Roger (the deceased) felt cold, and begged her to let him come to the fire. His mother then went into the pantry, and brought Roger wrapped up in her apron, and carried him out of doors: she shut the door after her, but be looked under it, and saw her throw him into the well; that, when she came in again, she put the stick she had beat him with into the fire; that, before it was entirely consumed, the neighbours came in, who immediately took the deceased out of the well, and the stick out of the fire.

The latter part of the child's evidence, respecting the dead body and the stick with which his brother had been beaten, was  corroborated by the neighbours, and the burnt stick was produced in court. On this evidence she was convicted, and executed at Warwick on the 24th of August, 1778.

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56: Joseph Relph

Who was indicted for Murder, and found guilty of Manslaughter.

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in December, 1778, Joseph Relph, mariner, was indicted for the wilful murder of Andrew Schultz on the 26th of November preceding; and he likewise stood charged on the coroner's inquisition, for feloniously killing and slaying the said Andrew. The prisoner was employed in the impress service, and the following is the state of the evidence adduced on the trial.

John Clear swore, that he was a beadle of Wapping; that Mr James Stewart, a tallow-chandler, called him from the Mason's lodge, and told him a man was murdered: that he went to the sign of the Gibraltar, where he found the prisoner leaning down in a box, having the fingers of his left hand, which were bloody, tied in a handkerchief: that on this deponent's asking what was the matter, Relph said he had been used ill, and cut to pieces; that he went with him quietly to the Round-house, and the next day before a magistrate, who committed him to New prison.

John Hageman deposed, that he was a servant to Mr Compton, sugar-baker, in Brewer's-lane; there were five of his companions, all of whom were going home to Mr Compton's; that they were all on the foot-pavement, and the deceased was running before him: that he saw a woman with a lantern in her hand crossing the way, and a girl about eight years old with her; and that Hardwicke (one of the company) lifted up the woman's peticoats behind.

The counsel now interposed, and said he should prove that the woman and child were the wife and daughter of the prisoner. Hageman proceeded, and said that the woman having walked a hundred yards, the prisoner overtook them; on which his wife pointed to Hardwicke, and said 'This is the young man that laid hold of my gown.' The prisoner crossed to Hardwicke, and asked him what business he had to meddle with the woman's own. Hardwicke made no reply; and one Kello coming up at the juncture, said to the lieutenant, (Relph) 'Sir, I am your prisoner, and will go with you where you like.' This evidence farther deposed, that the lieutenant took Hardwicke by the neck, and pulled his hat off.

John Kello was now sworn; but not being perfect in the English language, an interpreter was sworn to deliver his evidence, which was to the following effect: that Andrew Schultz was one of the party, returning with his fellowservants to Mr Compton's; that he himself was sober, but doubted if Hardwicke was not somewhat in liquor: that he did not see the prisoner till he came and put a hanger to his breast; on which this deponent acknowledged himself his prisoner, and consented to go where he pleased; but that he thrust the hanger through his clothes, and slightly wounded him in the breast.

When this deponent felt the sword hurt him, he jumped aside; and then Schultz said 'You had better put your sword by.' After some struggling Kello took the hanger from the lieutenant, but did not observe whether Schultz was wounded or not; that the prisoner went to a publichouse, and afterwards heard that Schultz was wounded; and that the lieutenant was cut in the hand.

Frederick Hardwicke, being sworn, acknowledged that he had touched the bottom of the woman's gown as he was passing her; owned he was a little disguised in liquor, and that, after he had touched the woman's gown, he received a blow from behind on his neck, and his hat fell off; but he could not tell by whom the blow was given. When he recovered himself, and got to his companions, be observed that Schultz was wounded, and that the lieutenant was going to the public house with a drawn hanger in his hand; he followed him, and stayed there two minutes: he observed that the lieutenant's hand was bloody, and immediately went home to his own lodgings.

Sarah Hoskins, an oyster woman, wife of William Hoskins of Bell-dock, saw four young men in the highway, and observed the lieutenant collar Hardwicke, and likewise saw a woman on the other side of the way, whom she heard say 'you dirty fellow, how dare you meddle with my gown?' or petticoat, the deponent could not be sure which. Her husband, the lieutenant, then came up, and said 'My dear, what is the matter?' to which she replied, 'the dirty fellow has been pulling my gown,' or words to that purpose.

Mrs Hoskins then saw the lieutenant collar Frederick Hardwicke, and say 'If you don't go along with me, I will draw my sword and stab you.' They then struggled from the Bell ale-house door, till they got between a brazier's and tin-shop, at the distance of nine or ten yards. In the mean time one of the men, who had a stick, hit the lieutenant on the back while Hardwicke and he were struggling. During this commotion the lieutenant's wife was hanging round his neck in the highway; but this deponent did not see the sword drawn, only heard the threat that it should be done: nor did she know whether the sword was drawn before or after the lieutenant was struck.

About five or six minutes after the lieutenant was struck with the stick, she heard somebody cry out, 'Stop him, stop him, the young man is dead in the tin-shop.' The lieutenant then went into the ale-house.

This was the substance of the evidence; and the judge then said to the counsel for the prisoner, 'Do you mean to make this less than manslaughter?' To which the counsel replied in the following words: 'No, my lord, we cannot make it less than manslaughter. The lieutenant was used very ill while his wife was hanging round his neck to prevent any further fighting. She was cut a-cross her neck, and the lieutenant had his hand and his coat cut in two places, and was beat all over his arm and shoulders.'

The court now observing that, if the jury were satisfied, nothing farther need be heard, but if not they would proceed; the jury said, 'My lord, we are all satisfied;' and soon afterwards they gave a verdict that the prisoner was 'Not guilty of the murder, but guilty of manslaughter only;' on which he was branded and discharged.

We see that, in the instance before us, a life had been lost, yet the party accused could not be convicted of murder; and we have the rather inserted this trial, to caution people to avoid occasional quarrels in the streets, which can never be attended with any good consequences, and are frequently productive of the most fatal.

In the present case we find that the accused party was what is called a lieutenant of a press-gang; that is, the principal savage among savages. The custom of impressing, let counsellors plead, and senators debate till they are hoarse, is incompatible with every idea we can frame of the natural right to that freedom which God has bestowed equally on us all; and which, from the very nature of the donation, it appears to be every man's duty to support.

There is nothing very particular in the case before us which tends to prove any insolence on the part of the lieutenant; but these volumes are growing to a conclusion, and we could not think of putting a period to them, without entering our protest against a practice which opposes every sentiment of humanity, and militates against all the finer feelings of the soul.

What! because a man has served his country faithfully for a series of years by sea, and has at length retired in the fond hope of enjoying the sweets of domestic felicity, shall he be dragged from the fond wife, and the helpless innocents, when he wishes not again to tempt the danger of the seas? Honour, common honesty, plain sense, humanity, and even law, reprobate the idea!

We have had of late two or three instances of freemen of London being impressed; but they have been discharged: the hardiest, the most callous of our lawyers dare not bring the matter to a legal issue: they know that sound sense and the laws of the realm are against the practice; they therefore fly from the subject, and, like the Parthians, conquer in retreat.

Setting aside all moral considerations, and permitting even humanity to sleep on this subject, sound policy forbids this infernal practice. The British tars are full free to serve their country. Let proper bounties be offered, let proper encouragements be held forth, and the navy will never want a man. It will be said that the giving high bounties to sailors will occasion an increase of those taxes which are already nearly insupportable. No doubt but our taxes are very burthensome; but let our pensioners be reduced in number and in pay, and we shall not want a sum to reward our daring sailors. Besides, the bounties given to these men, politically considered, cost nothing. Every man knows that a seaman carries nothing abroad with him but his jacket, his trowsers, and his valour. He spends his bounty-money where he receives it; and the cash circulates among those who gave it.

Let BRITISH GENEROSITY vie with BRITISH VALOUR, and we may bid DEFIANCE to the WORLD!

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1779

56: James Donally

A Blackmailer, who was convicted of Highway Robbery, 22nd of February, 1779

JAMES DONALLY was examined at Bow Street on a charge of having extorted money, by the vilest of all insinuations, from the Honourable Charles Fielding, second son of the Earl of Denbigh; and the magistrates, deeming that the offence amounted to a robbery on the highway, committed him for trial; and Lord Denbigh was bound to prosecute on behalf of his son, who was under age.

James Donally alias Patrick Donally was indictedat the sessions held at the Old Bailey in February, 1779, for "that he, on the King's highway, in and upon the Honourable Charles Fielding, did make an assault, putting him in corporal fear and danger of his life, and stealing from his person, and against his will, half-a-guinea, on the 18th of January "; and there was a second count in  the indictment for robbing the same gentleman of a guinea on the 20th of the same month.

Between six and seven in the evening of the 18th of January, Mr Charles Fielding was going from the house of a lady with whom he had dined to Covent Garden Theatre, when he was accosted in Soho Square by Donally, who desired he would give him some money. Mr Fielding, astonished at this address, asked him for what. Donally said he had better comply, or he would take him before a magistrate and swear that he had made an attempt to commit a most foul crime.

Terrified by this insinuation the young gentleman gave him half-a-guinea, which was all the money he had about him; and returned to the house where he had dined and borrowed half-a-guinea of the servant, with an intention of going to the play.

Two days afterwards he again met the prisoner in Oxford Road, when he repeated his threats of carrying him before a magistrate, and to prison; saying that he knew very well what had passed in Soho Square the other night, and that unless he would give him some more money he would take him before a magistrate and accuse him of the same attempt at crime which he had threatened the other night. He added that it would go hard with him  unless he could prove an alibi.

Terrified by these threatenings, Mr Fielding went to Mr Waters, a grocer in Bond Street, to whom, under the immediate impressions of his fear, he gave a guinea to give to the prisoner.

It happened, providentially, that on Saturday, the 12th of February, Lord Fielding was going up Hay Hill, when Donally, owing to the great personal likeness to his brother, accosted him in words which he did not rightly understand. His lordship said he believed he had mistaken him for some other person, for he did not know his face. Donally said he believed he must know him, and asked if he did not remember giving him half-a-guinea in Soho Square. He likewise mentioned the money given him at the grocer's -- a knowledge of which his lordship, as well he might, utterly denied.

The prisoner again asked if he did not recollect having given him any money, when his lordship asked him what was his present demand; and when requested to explain himself, some further altercation ensued; on which Lord Fielding desired the prisoner to go before a magistrate, with which he seemed to comply, but at length stopped and said he would not go. During this contest his lordship was somewhat terrified; and, scarcely knowing what kind of charge to make against the prisoner, he was, as he owned on the trial, "weak enough to loose his collar and let him go." Donally then turned about, addressed him by the title of "My Lord," and said he should hear from him again.

On the Tuesday following, as Lord Fielding was walking near the same spot, he heard a voice over his shoulder saying: "Sir, I have met you again," or some such expression. His lordship, recollecting the voice, turned round and seized him by the collar. Donally complained that he had used him very ill the last time he saw him. The other replied that he used him too well, for he had let him go, but he would take care to do better this time.

Donally now desired to be treated like a gentleman,saying he would not be dragged, but would go quietly. Lord Fielding, not seeing any person who was likely to assist him, and apprehending a rescue, told him that if he would walk along quietly to the next coffee-house he would not drag him. They walked down Dover Street together; but the prisoner increased his pace, so Lord Fielding followed, and seized him. He fell down twice, but was again seized as soon as he rose.

By this time a crowd had assembled: and Major Hartley and two other gentlemen happening to come by, the prisoner was seized and conveyed to Bow Street, where the magistrates, on hearing the evidence, thought that the crime amounted to a highway robbery, and committed the prisoner for trial accordingly.

Donally, in his defence, acknowledged that he had met Lord Fielding twice; that he had addressed him with decency, and desired him to hear something respecting his brother; and that Sir John Fielding had made the Honourable Charles Fielding carry on the prosecution. He did not deny the receipt of a guinea at the grocer's in Bond Street; but averred that he did not deserve death on account of the charge against him.

Mr Fielding swore that he had given the same account at Bow Street as on the trial, and the jury, having considered the whole evidence, brought in a verdict of guilty; but Mr Justice Buller, before whom the offender was tried, reserved the case for the opinion of the judges, on a point of law.

On the 29th of April following, the judges met and gave their opinion on this case, pronouncing it a new species of robbery to evade the law, but which was not to be evaded. He therefore underwent its sentence, which he had, with most abominable wickedness, brought upon his own head.

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57: Morgan Phillips

Executed for murder, robbery and arson, 5th April 1778

THE crime for which this man most justly suffered was attended with extraordinary acts of cruelty, and such as we have not often had occasion to describe.

The inhabitants of Narbeth, a small village in the county of Pembroke, were, in the middle of the night, alarmed with the appearance of fire, bursting from a farm-house near the turnpike. Before they could render assistance the house was nearly reduced to the ground, and the family were missing. On examining the ruins the remains of the owner, Mr. Thomas, an old and respectable farmer, were found on a bench, in a leaning posture; but so much burnt that it was impossible to determine whether he had been first murdered, or had perished by the merciless flames.

Proceeding in the search, the next unhappy victim found was his niece, a fine woman of about thirty years of age, whose body lay across the feet of a half-burnt bedstead, with a thigh broken, and an arm missing.

Among the ruins of another room was the body of a labouring man, much burnt, but with a large wound on the back of his head, from which much blood had issued. Mr. Thomas's servant-woman, who was very robust, was found dead at the entrance into one of the rooms, with several deep wounds in her head, and her hair clotted with blood. Her body was not so much burnt as the others; and near her was found the large kitchen spit, half bent, with which it was conjectured she had opposed the murderers.

It was now evident that the house had been broke open, the inhabitants murdered, and then set on fire. Some money was found in a drawer, which it is supposed the villains overlooked; but considerable property appeared to have been stolen.

So horrible a deed, in so peaceable a country as Wales, alarmed the whole nation, and every search was made after the murderers.

A man of the name of John Morris, a lazy suspicious character, and who had already been charged with different offences, was apprehended, under great cause of suspicion; and, while carrying him to gaol, he suddenly sprang from the constables, and threw himself into a coal-pit, and was killed.

At length suspicion fell on one Morgan Phillips, who, finding himself generally thought guilty, and apprehensive that full proof would be brought against him, confessed that he, in company with the above mentioned John Morris, broke into the house of Farmer Thomas, murdered the family, robbed it, as they conceived, of all the cash, and different portable articles, and afterwards set it on fire.

On his trial this confession being read, and by the prisoner himself acknowledged to be true, and a variety of corroborating proofs being likewise brought forward, the jury had very little hesitation in finding him guilty; and Morgan Phillips was accordingly executed at Haverfordwest on the 5th of April, 1779, amid the execrations of every honest Welchman.

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58: The Rev. James Hackman

Executed at Tyburn, 19th of April, 1779, for murdering Miss Reay outside Covent Garden Theatre

THIS shocking and truly lamentable case interested all ranks of people, who pitied the murderer's fate, conceived him stimulated to commit the horrid crime through love and madness. Pamphlets and poems were written on the occasion, and the crime was long the common topic of conversation.

The object of Mr. Hackman's love renders his case still more singular.

Miss Reay had been the Mistress of Lord Sandwich near twenty years, was the mother of nine children, and nearly double the age of Mr. Hackman.

This murder affords a melancholy proof that there is no act so contrary to reason that men will not commit when under dominion of their passions. In short it is impossible to convey an idea of the impression it made; and the manner in which it was done created horror arid pity in every feeling mind.

It is probable that Mr. Hackman imagined that there was a mutual passion― that Miss Reay had the same regard for him as he had for her. Love and madness are often little better than synonymous terms; for, had Mr Hackman not been blinded by a bewitching passion, he could never have imagined that Miss Reay would have left the family of a noble lord at the head of one of the highest departments of the state, in order to live in an humble station. Those who have been long accustomed to affluence, and even profusion, seldom choose to lower their flags. However, he was still tormented by this unhappy, irregular, and ungovernable passion, which, in an unhappy moment, led him to commit the crime for which he suffered.

MR JAMES HACKMAN was born at Gosport, in Hampshire, and originally designed for trade; but he was too volatile in disposition to submit to the drudgery of the shop or counting-house. His parents, willing to promote his interest as far as lay in their power, purchased him an ensign's commission in the 68th Regiment of Foot. He had not been long in the army when he was sent to command a recruiting party, and being at Huntingdon he was frequently invited to dine with Lord Sandwich, who had a seat in that neighbourhood. There it was that he first became acquainted with Miss Reay, who lived under the protection of that nobleman.

This lady was the daughter of a staymaker in Covent Garden, and served her apprenticeship to a mantua-maker in George's Court, St John's Lane, Clerkenwell. She was bound when only thirteen, and during her apprenticeship was taken notice of by the nobleman above mentioned, who took her under his protection, and treated her with every mark of tenderness. No sooner had Mr Hackman seen her than he became enamoured of her, though she had then lived for nineteen years with his lordship. Finding he could not obtain preferment in the army, he turned his thoughts to the Church, and entered into orders. Soon after he obtained the living of Wiverton, in Norfolk, which was only about Christmas preceding the shocking deed which cost him his life, so that it may be said he never enjoyed it.

Miss Reay was extremely fond of music, and as her noble protector was in a high rank we need not be surprised to find that frequent concerts were performed both in London and at Hinchinbrook. At the latter place Mr Hackman was generally of the party, and his attention to her at those times was very great. How long he had been in London previous to this affair is not certainly known, but at that time he lodged in Duke's Court, St Martin's Lane. On the morning of the 7th of April, 1779, he sat some time in his closet, reading Dr Blair's Sermons; but in the evening he took a walk to the Admiralty, where he saw Miss Reay go into the coach along with Signora Galli, who attended her. The coach drove to Covent Garden Theatre, where she stayed to see the performance of Love in a Village. Mr Hackman went into the theatre at the same time, but, not being able to contain the violence of his passion, returned to his lodgings, and having loaded two pistols again went to the playhouse, where he waited till the play was over. As Miss Reay was ready to step into the coach he took a pistol in each hand, one of which he discharged against her, which killed her on the spot, and the other at himself, which, however, did not take effect.

He then beat himself on his head with the butt-end, in order to destroy himself, so fully bent was he on the destruction of both. After some struggle he was secured, and his wounds dressed. He was then carried before Sir John Fielding, who committed him to Tothill Fields Bridewell, and next to Newgate, where a person was appointed to attend him, lest he should lay violent hands on himself. In Newgate, as he knew he had no favour to expect, he prepared himself for the awful change he was about to make. He had dined with his sister on the day the murder was committed, and in the afternoon had written a letter to her husband, Mr Booth, an eminent attorney, acquainting him with his resolution of destroying himself and desiring him to sell what effects he should leave behind him, to pay a small debt; but this letter was not sent, for it was found in his pocket.

On the trial Mr. Macnamara deposed that, on Wednesday, the 7th day of April, on seeing Miss Reay, with whom he had some little acquaintance, in some difficulties in getting from the playhouse, he offered his assistance to hand her to her coach; and just as they were in the Piazzas, very near the carriage, he heard the report of a pistol, and felt an impression on his right arm, which arm she held with her left, and instantly dropped. He thought at Iirst that the pistol had been fired through wantonness,and that she had fallen from the fright, and therefore fell upon his knees to help her up; but, finding his hands bloody, lie then conceived an idea of what had happened, and, by the assistance of a link-boy, got the deceased into the Shakspeare Tavern, where he first saw the prisoner, after he was secured. He asked him some questions relative to the fact and the cause; and his answer was, that neither the time nor place were proper to resolve him. He asked his name and was told Hackman: he knew a Mr. Booth, in Craven Street, and desired he might be sent for.

He asked to see the lady; to which he (the witness) objected, and had her removed to a private room. From the impression he felt, and the great quantity of blood about him, he grew sick, and went home; and knew nothing more about it.

Mary Anderson, a fruit-woman, deposed that, just as the play was over, she saw two ladies and a gentleman coming out of the playhouse, and a gentleman in black following them. Lord Sandwich's coach was called. When the carriage came up the gentleman handed the other lady into it. The lady that was shot stood behind, when the gentleman in black came up, laid hold of her gown, and pulled two pistols out of his pockets: the one in his right hand he discharged at the lady, and the other, in his left, he discharged at himself. They fell feet to feet. He beat himself violently over the head with his pistol, and desired somebody would kill him.

Richard Blandy, the constable, swore to the finding two letters in the prisoner's pocket, which he delivered to Mr. Campbell, the master of the Shakspeare Tavern, in Covent Garden.

Mr. Mahon, an apothecary, corroborated the evidence of the fruit-woman: he wrenched the pistol out of his hand, with which he was beating himself, as he lay on the ground took ,him to his house, dressed his wounds, and accom panied him to the Shakspeare.

Denis O'Brian, a surgeon, examined the wound of the deceased, and found it mortal. Being called upon for his defence, he addressed the Court in the following words:- "I should not have troubled the Court with the examinayion of witnesses to support the charge against me, had I not thought that the pleading guilty to the indictment gave an indication of contemning death, not suitable to my present condition, and was, in some measure, being accessory to a second peril of my life; and I likewise thought that the justice of my country ought to be satisfied by suffering my offence to be proved,  and the fact established by evidence.

"I stand here this day the most wretched of human beings, and confess myself criminal in a high degree; yet while I acknowledge, with shame and repentance, that my determination against my own life was formal and com plete, I protest, with that regard to truth which becomes my situation, that the will to destroy her, who was ever dearer to me than my life, was never mine till a momentary frenzy overcame me, and induced me to commit the deed I now deplore. The letter, which I meant for my brotherin-law after my decease, will have its due weight, as to this point, with good men.

"Before this dreadful act, I trust nothing will be found in the tenor of my life which the common charity of mankind will not excuse. I have no wish to avoid the punishment which the laws of my country appoint for my crime; but, being already too unhappy to feel a punishment in death or a satisfaction in life, I submit myself with penitence and patience to the disposal and judgment of Almighty God, and to the consequences of this inquiry into my conduct and intention."

Then was read the following letter:--

My DEAR FREDERIC,

When this reaches you I shall be no more; but do not let my unhappy fate distress you too much: I have strove against it as long as possible, but it now overpowers me. You well know where my affections were placed: my having by some means or other lost hers (an idea which I could not support) has driven me to madness. The world will condemn me, but your good heart will pity me. God bless you, my dear Frederic! Would I had a sum to leave you, to convince you of my great regard! You was my only friend. I have hid one circumstance from you, which gives me great pain. I owe Mr. Knight, of Gosport, one hundred pounds, for which he has the writings of my houses; but I hope in God, when they are sold, and all other matters collected, there will be nearly enough to settle our account. May Almighty God bless you and yours with cormfort and happiness; and may you ever be a stranger to the pangs I now feel! May Heaven protect my beloved woman, and forgive this act, which alone could relieve me from a world of misery I have long endured! Oh, if it should ever be in your power to do her an act of friendship, remember your faithful friend.

J. HACKMAN.

The jury inimediately returned their fatal verdict. The unhappy man heard the sentence pronounced him with taint resignation to his fate, and employed the very short time allowed murderers after conviction in repentance and prayer. During the procession to the fatal tree at Tyburn he seemed much affected, and said but little; and when he arrived at Tyburn, and got out of the coach and mounted the cart, he took leave of Dr. Porter and the Ordinary. After some time spent in prayer, he was turned off, on  April the 19th, 1779; and, having hung the usual time, his body was carried to Surgeons' Hall for dissection.

Such was the end of a young gentleman who might have been an ornament to his country, the delight of his friends, and a comfort to his relations, had he not been led away by the influence of an unhappy passion.

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59: James Mathison

Who forged Bank-Notes so cleverly that they could not be distinguished from Genuine Ones. Executed at Tyburn, 28th of July, 1779

JAMES MATHISON was one of the cleverest bank-note forgers ever brought to justice. His counterfeits deceived the greatest experts, and he succeeded in passing many of his notes in different parts of the country. The particular forgery here charged on him was for making and uttering a note for payment of twenty pounds, with intent to defraud Mr Mann, of Coventry, and the Bank of England. The note was produced in court, and witnesses were brought to prove its having been negotiated by him.

This fact being established, the next circumstance in consideration was to prove that the note was absolutely a counterfeit one. This his prosecutors were totally unable to do by any testimony they could adduce, so minutely and so dexterously had he feigned all the different marks. The note itself was not only so made as to render it altogether impossible for any human eyes to perceive a difference, but the very hands of the cashier and the entering clerk were also so counterfeited as entirely to preclude a positive discrimination even by those persons themselves. The watermark in the paper too -- namely, "Bank of England" -- which the bankers had considered as an infallible criterion of fair notes, a mark which could not be resembled by any possible means, was also hit off by this man, so as to put it out of the power of the most exact observer to perceive a difference. Several paper-makers were of opinion that this mark must have been put on in the making of the paper; but Mathison declared that he put it on afterwards by a peculiar method, known only to himself. The extreme similitude of the fair and false notes had such an effect upon the judge and jury that the prisoner would certainly have been discharged, for want of evidence to prove the counterfeit, if his own information, taken at Fielding's, had not been produced against him, which immediately turned the scale, and he was found guilty.

He was executed at Tyburn, pursuant to his sentence, on 28th of July, 1779. At the place of execution he made a speech which took up some minutes, wherein he acknowledged his guilt, and hoped for forgiveness from the Almighty. He also warned others to avoid the crime for which he suffered, and forgave his prosecutors.

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1780

60: Elizabeth Butchill

Executed for infanticide, March 17th, 1780

THIS unfortunate young woman was a native of Saffron Walden,  in Essex, born of honest and industrious parents, and bad lived for  a considerable time with her aunt, who was a bed-maker belonging  to Trinity College. Till the unhappy affair which brought her to so  ignominious an end she was generally esteemed for the decency  and modesty of her conduct; and it is to be lamented that a mistaken fear of shame should have induced her to commit an  action at which Nature shudders -- the destruction of her own  offspring!

The following are the particulars of the shocking murder perpetrated by this malefactor, as they appeared on the coroner's inquest and on the trial.

On Friday, the 7th of January, 1780, about eleven in the morning, the body of a new-born female infant was found in the river near Trinity College bogs; which was immediately taken out, and the coroner's jury summoned to sit on the body.

Mr. Bond, a surgeon, deposed that he examined the body, when he found the head swelled and bruised, the skull fractured in several places: that, on opening the body, the lungs appeared distended, and were on trial specifically lighter than water; and that he was of opinion the child was born alive, and received its death by the wounds in the head.

Esther Hall, the wife of William Hall, a brewer to Trinity College, whose dwelling-house was within the College gates, at no great distance from the place where the child was found, deposed that her niece, Elizabeth Butchill, had lived about three years with her in the capacity of a bed- maker in the said college; that, about three o'clock in the morning of the 6th instant, she heard her niece groan very much, and, getting up to inquire into the cause, found her complaining of a violent colic; that she heated some peppermint-water, &c. and gave it her, with some hot flannels, which seemed to give her ease; that, about six in the morning, the said Esther Hall went to College, leaving her niece in bed, where she found her on her return about ten o'clock.

William Hall, husband to the said witness, hearing a child had been found, suspected the said Elizabeth Butchill, and sent for a surgeon to examine her. In her voluntary confession, taken before the mayor and Dr. Ewin, and read to the jury, she confessed that she was delivered of a female child on Thursday morning, about half past six o'clock, by herself; that the child cried some little time after its birth; and that, in about twenty minutes after, she herself threw the said infant down one of the holes of the necessary into the river, and buried the placenta, &c. in the dunghill near the house. Upon this evidence the jury brought in their verdict Wilful Murder, but did not charge the said Elizabeth Butchill as the mother: she was therefore committed to the Castle, on her own confession, as soon as she could be removed with safety.

On Wednesday morning she was tried before Judge Buller, when her voluntary confession being produced, and many corroborating  circumstances appearing in evidence, the jury found her guilty, and  the judge passed sentence on her in a very pathetic and affecting manner. When the unhappy culprit, in extreme agony, solicited mercy, his lordship told her that, as she had been deaf to the cries of the innocent, and, stifling the strong ties of maternal affection,  had been the murderer of her child, it was impossible for mercy to be extended to her in this world; he therefore exhorted her to seek for a sincere repentance, and sentenced her to be executed the succeeding Friday, and her body to be anatomized.

From the time of her commitment she was in a bad state of health;  but her behaviour was modest, patient, and penitent. A worthy  clergyman visited her daily, and administered the sacrament to her,  when she was perfectly resigned to her fate, and acknowledged the  justice of her sentence. In the evening before her death she took an  affectionate leave of her friends, and passed the night tolerably composed, except at intervals, when she seemed to be deprived of  her senses.

In the morning of the fatal day the before-mentioned clergyman attended her to the place of execution, where her behaviour was firm, resigned, and exemplary. She joined with the minister in prayer, and sung the lamentation of a sinner with marks of a sincere penitent, declaring she had made her peace with God, and was reconciled to her fate. Desiring her example might be a warning to all thoughtless young women, and calling on Jesus Christ for mercy, she was launched into eternity amidst thousands of commiserating spectators, who, though they abhorred the crime, shed tears of pity for the unhappy criminal.

She was a decent plain young woman, about twenty-two years of age; and, before this unfortunate affair, bore a good character for her modest behaviour.

She was executed at Cambridge, March 17, 1780.

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61: A. Durnford and W. Newton

Executed at Tyburn, 22nd of November, 1780, for a Robbery under Singular Circumstances

IT was proved on their trial at the Old Bailey that these two men hired an empty house, No. 21 Water Lane, Fleet Street, and having a bill of exchange lying at the bank of Smith, Wright & Grey, they directed it for payment at this house. They made preparations for cleaning, in order, as they pretended, to furnish it with dispatch; but the landlord, not liking this extraordinary haste, or his new tenants, desired Mrs Boucher, the mistress of a public-house opposite, to keep an eye on their proceedings.

Accordingly, on the day this sham bill became due, being the 5th of August, 1780, she observed the new tenants, Durnford and Newton, enter the house and open the parlour windows. Soon after she saw a third man knock at the door, which was opened, and he entered. Watching events, she heard an uncommon noise, and, stepping over the way to listen, heard a cry of murder, as from a hoarse faint voice, succeeded by a kind of groaning, which very much alarmed her.

Looking through the keyhole, she saw two men dragging a third down the cellar stairs, on which she cried out loudly: "They're murdering a man!" She knocked hard at the door, and begged the people in the street to break it open; but none would interfere. Being enraged at their not assisting her, she burst open the window, and was entering the house when Newton jumped out of the first pair-of- stairs window, and was running off, but on the cry of "Stop thief!" he was instantly taken, and the other she seized by the throat herself, and dragged him to her own house.

The house was then immediately searched, and in a back cellar was found a man, bound and nearly choked, to prevent his calling out. He proved to be a collecting clerk for Smith, Wright & Grey, named James Watts. They had robbed him of his pocket- book, and would have murdered him had not this woman saved his life.

Mr Watts was a young Quaker, aged eighteen, and would not, according to the doctrines of that sect, be sworn; which is required by the law in all cases of life and death; so that their conviction rested chiefly on the evidence of Mrs Boucher, though not a shadow of a doubt remained of their guilt.

Both prisoners were convicted, and executed at Tyburn, on the 22nd of November, 1780.

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62: Lord George Gordon

An Account of the Riots in London in 1780

THE origin of what are known as the Gordon Riots, in London in 1780, is ascribed to the passing of an Act of Parliament, about two years previously, for "relieving his Majesty's subjects, of the Catholic Religion, from certain penalties and disabilities imposed upon them during the reign of William III." A petition to Parliament was framed for its repeal, and a general meeting of a body of people, forming the Protestant Association, headed by Lord George Gordon, was held on the 29th of May, at the Coachmakers' Hall, Noble Street, Aldersgate Street. At this meeting the noble lord moved the following resolutions:--

"Whereas no hall in London can contain forty thousand persons,

"Resolved, -- That this association do meet on Friday next in St George's Fields, at ten o'clock in the morning, to consider the most prudent and respectful manner of attending their petition, which will be presented the same day to the House of Commons.

Resolved, -- For the sake of good order and regularity, that this association, in. coming to the ground, do separate themselves into four divisions -- viz. the London division, the Westminster division, the Southwark division, and the Scotch division.

"Resolved, -- That the London division do take place of the ground towards Southwark; the Westminster division second; the Southwark division third; and the Scotch division upon the left all wearing blue cockades, to distinguish themselves from the Papists and those who approve of the late Act in favour of Popery.

"Resolved, -- That the magistrates of London, Westminster and Southwark are requested to attend, that their presence may overawe and control any riotous or evil-minded persons who may wish to disturb the legal and peaceable deportment of his Majesty's subjects."

His lordship having intimated that he would not present the petition unless twenty thousand persons attended the meeting, and the resolutions having been published and placarded through the streets, on the day apppointed a vast concourse of people from all parts of the City and its environs assembled in St George's Fields. The main body took their route over London Bridge, marching in order, six or eight in a rank, through the City towards Westminster, accompanied by flags bearing the words "No Popery." At Charing Cross the mob was increased by additional numbers on foot, on horseback, and in various vehicles, so that, by the time the different parties met together, all the avenues to both Houses of Parliament were entirely filled with the crowd. The rabble now took possession of all the passages leading to the House of Commons, from the outer doors to the very entrance for the Members, which latter they twice attempted to force open; and a like attempt was made at the House of Lords, but without success in either instance. In the meantime Lord George Gordon came into the House of Commons with an unembarrassed countenance, and a blue cockade in his hat, but finding it gave offence he took it out and put it in his pocket -- not, however, before Captain Herbert, of the navy, one of the Members, threatened to pull it out; while Colonel Murray, another Member, declared that, if the mob broke into the House, he (looking at Lord George) should instantly be the victim.

The petition having been presented, the populace separated into parties and proceeded to demolish the Catholic chapels in Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, and Warwick Street, Golden Square; and all the furniture, ornaments and altars of both chapels were committed to the flames. After various other outrages the prison of Newgate was attacked. They demanded from the keeper, Mr Ackerman, the release of their confined associates. He refused to comply; yet, dreading the consequence, he went to the sheriffs to know their pleasure. On his return he found his house in flames, and the jail itself was soon in a similar situation. The doors and entrances were broken open with crowbars and sledge-hammers; and it is scarcely to be credited with what rapidity this strong prison was destroyed. The public office in Bow Street and Sir John Fielding's house, adjoining, were soon destroyed, and all their furniture and effects, books, papers, etc., committed to the flames. Justice Coxe's house in Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, was similarly treated; and the two prisons at Clerkenwell set open and the prisoners liberated. The King's Bench Prison, with some houses adjoining, a tavern and the New Bridewell were also set on fire, and almost entirely consumed.

The mob now appeared to consider themselves as superior to all authority; they declared their resolution to burn all the remaining public prisons, and demolish the Bank, the Temple, Gray's Inn, Lincoln's Inn, the Mansion House, the Royal palaces, and the arsenal at Woolwich. The attempt upon the Bank of England was actually made twice in the course of one day; but both attacks were but feebly conducted and the rioters easily repulsed, several of them falling by the fire of the military, and many others being severely wounded.

To form an adequate idea of the distress of the inhabitants in every part of the City would be impossible. Six-and-thirty fires were to be seen blazing in the metropolis during the night.

A proclamation, and a reward of £500 was offered for the discovery and conviction of the person or persons who demolished the houses and chapels of the foreign ambassadors; and military law was established.

At length the continuous arrival of fresh troops, from all parts of the country within fifty or sixty miles of the metropolis, intimidated the rabble; and soon after the disturbances were quelled.

The Royal Exchange, the public buildings, the squares and the principal streets were all occupied by troops. The shops were closed; while immense volumes of dense smoke were still rising from the ruins of consumed edifices.

During the riots many persons, terrified by the alarming outrages of the mob, fled from London and took refuge at places at a considerable distance from town.

The number of persons killed is variously stated. Many persons, strangers to the attempt, were destroyed by the necessarily indiscriminate fire of the soldiers and militia; and although it is impossible to calculate the precise number who lost their lives, from the circumstance of many being carried off by their friends, it is believed to be about five hundred.

Among other death which resulted from these riots, was Mr. Robert Dillon, a pious man, who had officiated at the Roman Catholic chapel, in Moorfields, for thirty-six years. The mob pulled down his house, along with the chapel, burned his books, which he greatly valued, and his household furniture, not even leaving him a bed, whereon he might rest his old bones: this barbarous treatment broke his heart. He was a younger branch of the ancient family of Proudston, in the county of Meath in Ireland; and was universally esteemed by a numerous acquaintance.

The following is an extract of the King's Speech to both Houses of Parliament the 18th of June, soon after the riots were ended:

"My Lords, and Gentlemen,

"The outrages committed by bands of lawless and desperate men, in various parts of this metropolis, broke forth with such violence, into acts of felony and treason, had so far overborne all civil authority, and threatened directly the immediate subversion of  all legal power, the destruction of all property, and the confusion of every order of the state, that I found myself obliged, by every tie of duty and affection to my people, to suppress, in every part, those rebellious insurrections, and to provide for the public safety, by the most effectual and immediate application of the force intrusted to me by parliament.

"I have directed copies of the proclamations issued upon that occasion, to be laid before you.

"Proper orders have been given for bringing the authors and abettors of these insurrections and the perpetrators of such criminal acts, to speedy trial, and to such condign punishment, as the laws of their country prescribe, and the vindication of public justice demand.

"Though I trust it is not necessary, yet I think it right, at this time, to renew to you my solemn assurances that I have no other object but to make the laws of the realm, and the principles of our excellent constitution, in Church and State, the rule and measure of my conduct; and that I shall ever consider it as the first duty of my station, and the chief glory of my reign, to maintain and preserve the established religion of my kingdoms; and, as far as in me lies, to secure and to perpetuate the rights and liberties of my people."

Lord George Gordon, the leader and instigator of these riots, was subsequently tried in the Court of King's Bench, but escaped conviction. There was little doubt that he was occasionally subject to aberrations of intellect. His death took place some years afterwards in the King's Bench Prison. He had been indicted for a libel on Marie Antoinette, the unfortunate French Queen, and the Count d'Adhemar, the French Ambassador, and, having been convicted, fled from punishment, but was afterwards apprehended in Birmingham, attired in the garb of a Jew, with a long beard, etc., where he had undergone circumcision, and had embraced the religion of the unbelievers. He died professing the same faith.  Such was the end of a man, once, perhaps, the most popular idol of the mob; and, for some days the terror of all peaceable citizens.

Many of the rioters were apprehended, and having been recognised were convicted, and suffered death in most instances opposite to the places in which the scenes were enacted in which they were proved to have taken a part.

Of those brought to trial, we find, from the different court records, that,

At the Old Bailey, there were tried 85

Of whom were convicted 35

Tried at St. Margaret's Hill 50

Convicted 24

Among those tried and convicted, were several women and boys; but not one individual of the smallest respectability or good fame; negroes, Jews, gypsies, and vagabonds of every description; the very refuse of society.

Richard Roberts and William Lawrence, mere lads in appearance, hardly seventeen years of age, were among the principal leaders in these dreadful scenes of destruction, and were the first who were brought to trial. They were convicted of pulling down the house of Sir John Fielding, and hanged in Bow Street.

Thomas Taplin, a captain-rioter, convicted of extorting money from Mr. Mahon. That gentleman deposed that a ragged little boy came first up to him, and said, "God bless your honour, some money for your poor mob!" He bid him begone. "Then," replied the imp of mischief, "I'll call my captain." Then came up the prisoner, Taplin, on horse-back, led by two boys, and attended by forty or fifty followers. Mr. Mahon was intimidated, so as to purchase his security with half-a-crown. Taplin was also hanged in Bow Street, where he had stopped Mr. Mahon.

George Kennedy, hanged in Bunhill-row, for pulling down the house of Mr. M'Cartney, a baker.

William M'Donald, a cripple, who had lost an arm, and had formerly been a soldier, hanged on Tower-hill for destroying the house of J. Lebarty, a publican, in St. Catharine's lane, near thereto.

James Henry, for setting fire to the house of Mr. Langdon, on Holborn-hill.

George Bawton, a poor drunken cobbler, who meeting Mr. Richard Stone, in High Street, Holborn, stopped him, saying, "Pray remember the Protestant religion." Mr. Stone offered twopence, but the cobler damned him, and swore he would have sixpence, which was compiled with, for this he was hanged! a punishment which at any other time would have borne no proportion to the crime, and an instance of severity which we trust could not at any other time have occurred in England.

William Browne, for extorting money from Mr. Daking, in Bishopsgate Street, as for the Protestant cause, and threatening to rip him up, if he did not comply.

William Bateman, executed in Coleman Street, for pulling down the house of Mr. Charlton.

John Gray, Charles Kent, and Letitia Holland, hanged in Bloomsbury-square, for being a party to setting fire to the mansion of Lord Chief Justice Mansfield.

Mary Roberts and Charlotte Gardener, the latter a negress, hanged on Tower-hill for assisting to demolish the house of J. Lebarty, as before-mentioned.

Enoch Fleming, executed in Oxford-road, for assisting in pulling down the house of Ferdinand Schomberg.

George Staples, for being concerned in the riot in Moorfields, and assisting to pull down the Roman Catholic chapel there, and the house of James Malo.

Samuel Solomon, a Jew hanged in Whitechapel, for joining in the demolishing the house of Christopher Conner.

James Jackson, at the Old Bailey, convicted of setting fire to Newgate.

George Staples and Jonathan Stacy, also hanged in Moorfields, for being concerned in the riot, and burning of houses there.

Joseph Lovell and Robert Lovell, father and son, a pair of gypsies, hanged for aiding in setting fire to the house of Thomas Conolly.

The following, convicted of setting fire to the King's Bench Prison, and houses near thereto, were executed in St. George's Fields, viz. Robert Loveli, Mary Cook, Edward Dorman, Elizabeth Collins, Henry Penny, and John Bridport.

Among the rioters, to sum up the account of their infamy and wretchedness, was Jack Ketch himself. This miscreant, whose real name was Edward Dennis, was convicted of pulling down the house of Mr Boggis, of New Turnstile. The keeper of Tothill Fields Bridewell would not suffer Jack Ketch to go among the other prisoners, lest they should tear him to pieces. In order that he might hang up his brother rioters, he was granted a pardon.

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1781

63: John Donellan, Esq

Executed for the Murder of Sir Theodosius Boughton, Bart., his Brother-in-Law, 2nd of April, 1781

JOHN DONELLAN had been a captain in the army, and was the son of Colonel Donellan. He certainly distinguished himself as a good soldier, for not only had he been much wounded in the service, but, if his own account may be credited, he was singularly instrumental in the taking of Mazulapatam.

Being appointed, however, one of the four agents for prize-money, he condescended to receive presents from some black merchants, to whom part of their effects had been ordered to be restored, for which he was tried by a court martial, and cashiered. He subsequently purchased a share in the Pantheon, where he figured for some time as master of ceremonies. After a variety of applications he at length obtained a certificate from the War Office that he had behaved in the East Indies "like a gallant officer"; in consequence of which he was put upon half-pay in the 39th Regiment. In June, 1777, he married Miss Boughton; and on Friday, 30th of March, 1781, he was tried at the assizes at Warwick for the wilful murder of Sir Theodosius Edward Allesley Boughton, Bart., his brother-in-law.

Mr Powell, apothecary of Rugby, deposed that on Wednesday morning, the 27th of February, he was sent for to Lawton Hall, and on his arrival there, at a little before nine o'clock, Captain Donellan conducted him to the apartment of Sir Theodosius. On entering, he perceived that the baronet was dead; and on examining the body he concluded that it was about an hour since life had fled. He had some conversation with Captain Donellan with regard to the deceased, and he was told by him that he had "died in convulsions."

Lady Boughton, the mother of the deceased, deposed that Sir Theodosius was twenty years old on the 3rd of August past. On his coming of age he would have been entitled to above two thousand pounds a year, and in the event of his dying a minor the greater part of his fortune was to descend to his sister, the wife of Mr Donellan. It was known in the family on the evening of Tuesday, the 26th that Sir Theodosius was to take his physic the next morning. He used to put his physic in the dressing-room. He happened once to omit to take it; upon which Mr Donellan said: "Why don't you set it in your outer room? -- then you would not so soon forget it." After this he several times put the medicines upon his shelf over the chimney-piece in his outer room. On the evening of Tuesday, the 26th, about six o'clock, Sir Theodosius went out fishing attended only by one servant, Samuel Frost. Witness and Mrs Donellan took a walk in the garden, and were there over an hour. To the best of her recollection she had seen nothing of Mr Donellan after dinner till about seven o'clock, when he came out of the house door in the garden, and told them that he had been to see them fishing, and that he would have persuaded Sir Theodosius to come in, lest he should take cold, but he could not. Sir Theodosius came home a little after nine, apparently very well; he went up into his own room soon after, and then to bed. He requested her to call him the next morning and give him his physic. She accordingly went into his room about seven in the morning, when he appeared to be very well. She asked him where the bottle was, and he said: "It stands there upon the shelf." He desired her to read the label, which she accordingly did, and found there was written upon it: "Purging draught for Sir Theodosius Boughton." As he was taking it he observed that it smelled and tasted very nauseous; upon which she said: "I think it smells very strongly like bitter almonds." He then remarked that he thought he should not be able to keep the medicine upon his stomach.

Here a bottle was delivered to Lady Boughton containing the genuine draught, which she was desired to smell, and inform the Court whether it smelled like the medicine Sir Theodosius took. She answered in the negative. She was then desired to smell another containing the draught, with the addition of laurel-water, which she said had a smell very much like that of the medicine she gave to Sir Theodosius. Lady Boughton then proceeded with her evidence. Two minutes after Sir Theodosius had taken the draught he struggled very much. It appeared to her as if it was to keep the draught down. He made a prodigious rattling in his stomach, and guggling; and these symptoms continued about ten minutes. He then seemed as if he were going to sleep, or inclined to doze; and, perceiving him a little composed, she went out of the room. She returned in about five minutes, and to her great surprise found him with his eyes fixed upwards, his teeth clenched, and foam running out of his mouth. She instantly desired a servant to take the first horse he could get and go for Mr Powell.

She saw Mr Donellan less than five minutes after. He came into the room where Sir Theodosius lay, and said to her: "What do you want?" She answered that she wanted to inform him what a terrible thing had happened; that it was an unaccountable thing in the doctor to send such medicine, for if it had been taken by a dog it would have killed it; and she did not think her son would live.

He inquired in what way Sir Theodosius then was. When told, he asked her where the physic bottle was; on which she showed him two draughts; when he took up one of the bottles and said, "Is this it?" she answered, "Yes." He then rinsed it, and emptied it into some dirty water that was in a washhand-basin; and on his doing so she said: " What are you at? You should not meddle with the bottles." Upon that he snatched up the other bottle and rinsed it, and then he put his finger to it and tasted it. She repeated that he ought not to meddle with the bottles; upon which he replied that he did it to taste it. Two servants, named Sarah Blundell and Catherine Amos, afterwards came into the room, and he desired the former to take away the basin and the bottles, and he put the bottles into her hands. The witness however, took the bottles from her and set them down, bidding her not to touch them; and the prisoner then desired that the room might be cleaned, and the dirty clothes thrown into the inner room. This being done, the witness turned her back for a moment on which the prisoner again handed the servant the bottles, and bade her take them away, and she accordingly removed them.

Witness soon afterwards went into the parlour, where she found Mr and Mrs Donellan; and the former told his wife that her mother had been pleased to take notice of his washing the bottles, and that he did not know what he should have done if he had not thought of saying that he had put the water into them to put his finger to it to taste.

Dr Rattray, of Coventry, described the external appearances of the body, and its appearances in the dissecting. He was asked whether, as he had heard the evidence of Mr Powell and Lady Boughton, he could, from that evidence, totally independent of the appearances he had described, form a judgment as to the cause of the death of Sir Theodosius. He answered that, exclusive of these appearances, he was of opinion, from the symptoms that followed the taking of the draught, that it was poison, and the certain cause of his death. Being desired to smell the bottle, and asked what was the noxious medicine in it, he said it was a distillation of laurel leaves, called laurel-water. Here he entered into a detail of several experiments on animals, tending to show the instantaneous and mortal effects of the laurel-water. He knew nothing in medicine that corresponded in smell with that mixture, which was like that of bitter almonds. He further said that the quantity of laurel-water contained in the bottle shown to him was sufficient to cause the death of any human creature; and that the appearance of the body confirmed him in his opinion that the deceased was poisoned, so far as, upon viewing a body so long after the death of the subject, one could be allowed to form a judgment upon such appearances.  Mr Wilmer and Dr Parsons, professor of anatomy at Oxford, confirmed the evidence of Dr Rattray.

John Darbyshire deposed that he had been a prisoner in Warwick jail for debt, and that Mr Donellan and he had had a bed in the same room for a month or five weeks. He remembered to have had a conversation with him about Sir Theodosius being poisoned. On his asking him whether the body was poisoned or not, he said there was no doubt of it. The witness said: "For God's sake, Captain, who could do it?" He answered it was amongst themselves; he had no hand in it. The witness asked whom he meant by themselves. He said: "Sir Theodosius himself, Lady Boughton, the footman and the apothecary." The witness replied, "Sure, Sir Theodosius could not do it himself!" He said he did not think he did -- he could not believe he would. The witness answered: "The apothecary could hardly do it -- he would lose a good patient; the footman could have no interest in it; and it is unnatural to suppose that Lady Boughton would do it." The Captain said how covetous Lady Boughton was: she had received an anonymous letter the day after Sir Theodosius's death charging her plump with poisoning him; that she called him and read it to him, and trembled. She desired he would not let his wife know of that letter, and asked him if he would give up his right to the personal estate, and to some estates of about two hundred pounds a year belonging to the family. The conversation was about a month after the Captain came into the jail. At other times he said that it was impossible he could do a thing that never was in his power.

This being the chief evidence, the prisoner, in his defence, pleaded a total ignorance of the fact, and several respectable characters bore testimony to his integrity. The jury, however, found him guilty, and he received sentence of death.

At seven o'clock on the next day, the 2nd of April, 1781, he was carried to the place of execution at Warwick, in a mourning- coach, followed by a hearse and the sheriff officers in deep mourning. As he went on he frequently put his head out of the coach, desiring the prayers of the people around him.

On his arrival at the fatal spot he alighted from the coach and, ascending a few steps of the ladder, prayed for a considerable time, and then joined in the usual service with the. greatest appearance of devotion; he next, in an audible tone of voice, addressed the spectators to this effect: that as he was then going to appear before God, to Whom all deceit was known, he solemnly declared that he was innocent of the crime for which he was to suffer; that he had drawn up a vindication of himself, which he hoped the world would believe, for it was of more consequence to him to speak truth than falsehood, and he had no doubt but that time would reveal the many mysteries that had arisen in his trial.

After praying fervently some time he let his handkerchief fall― a signal agreed upon between him and the executioner― and was launched into eternity. When the body had hung the usual time it was put into a black coffin and conveyed to the town hall to be dissected.

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64: Francis Henry de La Motte

A French Spy, who was executed at Tyburn, 27th of July, 1781, for High Treason

THIS man lived a long time in England unsuspected as one of its greatest enemies. He was a Frenchman, and a spy upon the Government, in the service of France. He gave advice to the enemy, through the medium of one Lutterlok, of the strength and destination of our fleets and armies.

Among other acts of mischief done by means of this man was the attack upon the British fleet, under Commodore Johnstone, in the neutral harbour, called Port Praya Road, on its voyage to the East Indies, where it was convoying a fleet of East Indiamen.

La Motte sent intimation to the French Minister of the British commodore's strength and time of sailing, and the Minister  sent a superior fleet in quest of him, under the command of Commodore Suffrien. So great was the surprise of the British that they were lying in harbour, taking in water and provisions, when the enemy hove in sight.

"I was then absent," says Commodore Johnstone, in his dispatches to Government, "in a boat, giving directions for moving some ships which had driven too near each other. As soon as I saw the signal for so many strange ships I instantly returned on board the Romney" (the Commodore's broad pendant flying on board that ship), "and made the signal for all persons to come from the shore and repair on board their respective ships, having at that time not less than one thousand, five hundred persons absent from the fleet who were employed in watering, fishing, and embarking live cattle, with other occupations necessary to dispatch in refitting so many ships, besides a number of officers and troops who were taking recreation, with leave of absence, on shore."

The French, apprised of the exact strength of the British, pressed into their very centre in line of battle -- a mode of attack they durst not otherwise have done. Though thus surprised, the British beat them off.

The returns of our killed and wounded were as follows: --

Petty officers and seamen killed: 20

Marines and infantry killed: 20

Officers killed: 7

Seamen: wounded: 77

Marines and infantry wounded: 63

Prisoners, among whom was Captain Darby, of the Infernal fireship: 20

Total of killed, wounded and missing: 207

Other squadrons were attacked through the same means, and many more lives were lost, and the nation put to an enormous expense.

This spy had elegant lodgings in Bond Street, dressed like a gentleman, kept the best company, and passed as a foreigner of fortune; he spoke the English tongue, and was well acquainted with the geography of the country. At length suspicion arose that he was a French spy. A watch was accordingly set upon his actions, and he was soon apprehended, and committed prisoner to the Tower. On his trial various acts of treason were fully proved against him, and the jury immediately found him guilty. The judge then passed upon him the following awful sentence:--

"That he should be hanged by the neck, but not till he was dead, then to be cut down, and his bowels to be taken out and burned before his face; his head to be taken off, his body cut into four quarters and to be at his Majesty's disposal."

He was remanded to the Tower, and at the expiration of a fortnight a warrant was issued from the office of the Secretary of State for his execution. The sheriffs demanded his body of the Lieutenant of the Tower, and carried him to Newgate; from thence, in about a quarter of an hour, they set out with him to the place of execution. La Motte was dressed in a suit of black. His deportment was manly and serious; he seemed to be totally abstracted from the surrounding multitude, as he scarcely ever took his eyes from a devotional book which he held in his hand.

Upon his arrival at the fatal tree he was immediately removed out of the sledge in which he had been conveyed. He then employed some minutes in earnest devotion; which done, he twice bowed respectfully to the sheriffs and turned to the executioner, desiring him immediately to perform his office.

After hanging fifty-seven minutes the body was cut down and laid on a block, when (a fire having been previously kindled) the executioner severed the head from the trunk, made an incision from the breast, and ripped out the heart, which, after being exposed to the spectators, was thrown into the flames.

The body was then scorched, together with the head, and put into a very handsome coffin, which was delivered to an undertaker for interment.

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1783

65: William Wynne Ryland

Engraver to his Majesty. Executed at Tyburn, in August, 1783, for forging a Bill of Exchange

WILLIAM WYNNE RYLAND was an engraver of great ability, and received a pension from both the King and Queen, who held him in high estimation as an artist. Fortune had smiled upon Mr Ryland, even from his birth, until his evil genius prompted him, for gold, to debase his talents in engraving for the purpose of committing forgery.

He was a native of Wales. His father had been patronised by the late Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, who jocosely said that if ever Mr Ryland should marry he would be the godfather of his first son. This soon after happened, and the unfortunate subject of this history, being the first-born of such marriage, was named William Wynne, by desire of the worthy baronet.

Ryland gave early proof of his genius, for while in the former part of his apprenticeship he engraved a head of his godfather, Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, which was esteemed a production of singular merit for so young an artist.

Having faithfully served his time, he visited the French and Italian schools, and obtained the honorary medal in Paris. On his return to England he introduced the admired art of engraving copper-plates to yield an impression resembling drawing in chalk; and soon after his Majesty ascended the throne he appointed Mr Ryland his engraver, with a salary of two hundred pounds a year, and the Queen added one hundred pounds a year more, out of her privy purse, as a testimony of her approbation of his extraordinary talents.

Mr Ryland entered into partnership with a Mr Bryer, and they jointly opened a shop in Cornhill, where they carried on a very extensive trade in prints, the former still continuing to exercise his abilities in the art of engraving. Though their business was productive of great profit, several capital losses occurred almost at the same time, and their pecuniary affairs became so deranged that a bankruptcy ensued.

Some years after this failure Mr Ryland, on his own separate account, opened a print-shop in the Strand, where he had every prospect of success; but being fond of a private life, where he might have leisure to "pursue coy Science in her last retreat," he declined public business and retired to Pimlico, thence to Knightsbridge, where, by one fatal act, he entirely ruined his reputation as a man: but his name as an artist will ever stand in the highest estimation.

At this time Mr Ryland had recovered his losses in trade, and had been bequeathed shares in the Liverpool Waterworks which were then deemed to be worth ten thousand pounds. His business was worth two thousand pounds a year, and his stock was valued at ten thousand pounds more. Such was his own statement of his property in his defence on his trial; and it was supposed that, in order to engross the remaining shares in his Liverpool concern, he committed the forgery for which he suffered.

He had already obtained several sums on forgeries, Mr Nightingale, the banker, having advanced him, on the 19th of September, 1782, three thousand pounds; and such was his opinion of Mr Ryland that he declared he would have lent him that sum without any deposit whatever.

The forged instruments so exactly resembled the real bills that it was scarcely possible to know one from the other. But at length it was discovered that two bills of the same tenor and date were out, consequently one of them must be a forgery.

Suspicion now fell so strongly on Ryland that he was induced to secret himself; and a reward was offered for his apprehension. He went in disguise to Stepney, and there took an obscure lodging at the hovel of one Richard Freeman, a cobbler, accompanied by Mrs Ryland, the wretched partner of his misfortune, passing as Mr and Mrs Jackson.

There he some time evaded the search after him, till one fatal step of the unfortunate woman, who was watching over his safety, caused his apprehension. She brought, unconscious of danger, one of her husband's shoes to the cobbler to be mended, with the name of "Ryland" on the inside of it. This was fatal: the cobbler, in order to obtain the reward, delivered up his lodger.

When the officers of justice went to apprehend Ryland they found him in a corner of the room on his knees, and heard a noise like a guggling in his throat, which was occasioned by his having cut it. He had a razor in his hand, and a basin stood before him; but the wound did not prove mortal. On the 26th of July, 1783, he was arraigned at the bar of the Old Bailey, on an indictment charging him with "forging, and uttering, knowing it to be forged, a certain bill of exchange for two hundred and ten pounds sterling, purporting it to be a bill drawn by the gentlemen of the factory, at Fort Saint George, in Madras, on the Honourable East India Company, with intent to defraud the said Company, and divers other persons, to whom he had passed the said bill."

He was found guilty, and, his crime admitting of no mercy, was executed at Tyburn in August, 1783.

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1785

66: Richard Carpenter

Convicted at the Lent Assizes, 1785, Hampshire, of forging Seamen's Wills and executed at Winchester

THIS man had been for long a public character on the dramatic boards, and he made his final exit on a stage erected for the purpose― under the gallows.

He was for many years the clown in the pantomime entertainments at Drury Lane. Unlike the major part of his brethren of the sock and buskin, Carpenter saved some part of his salary, with which he went to Portsmouth, took an elegant house, and commenced as navy agent; in which lucrative business he acquired considerable property. It however appears that, like many who, from hard earnings, suddenly come into easy receipts, Carpenter grew so impatient to become rich that he committed felony of the basest nature― that of forging seamen's wills and powers.

This infamous robbery of poor widows and orphans he had for some time carried on with impunity, when the officers of justice went in pursuit of him. He was surprised in his own house, which was spacious, and elegantly furnished, and at the very moment when he was entertaining some friends.

His execution attracted a vast number of spectators, by whom, from his penitence and resignation to his unhappy fate, he was generally much pitied.

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1786

67: Charles Price

A Notorious Swindler and Bank-Note Forger, who committed

Suicide in 1786

THIS extraordinary impostor, whose artifices enabled him to commit unprecedented depredations on the public, was born about the year 1730, in London. His father lived in Monmouth Street, and carried on the trade of a salesman in old clothes. Tired of the tricks and knaveries of his son Charles, the father placed him with a hosier in St James's Street. There he continued for a short time. He robbed his father of an elegant suit of clothes, in which he dressed himself, went to his master in this disguise, purchased about ten pounds' worth of silk stockings, left his address, "Benjamin Bolingbroke, Esq., Hanover Square," and ordered them to be sent to him in an hour's time, when he would pay the person who brought them. His master did not know him; so, to complete the cheat, our hero came back in half-an-hour in his usual dress, and was ordered to take the goods home, which he actually pretended to do. Thus were both master and father robbed. He was, however, soon after found out, and discharged.

As his wits were never long unemployed for some deceptive ends, he issued the following curious advertisement in the year 1775:―

WANTED

"A partner of character, probity, and extensive acquaintance; upon a plan permanent and productive, fifty per cent., without risk, may be obtained. It is not necessary he should have any knowledge of the business, which the advertiser possesses in its fullest extent; but he must possess a capital of between five hundred and a thousand pounds, to purchase materials, with which, to the knowledge of the advertiser, a large fortune must be made in a very short time.

"Address to P. C., Cardigan Head, Charing Cross.

"P.S.― None but principals, and those of liberal ideas, will be treated with."

To this advertisement the famous comedian, Samuel Foote, paid attention. Eager to seize what he thought a golden opportunity, he advanced the sum of five hundred pounds for a brewery. The sum soon disappeared, and Foote was wrung with the anguish of disappointment. Price, however, had the impudence to apply to him again, wishing him to unite in the baking trade; the comedian archly replied: "As you have brewed, so you may bake but I'll be cursed if ever you bake as you have brewed!"

After this unfortunate business Mr Price turned Methodist preacher, and in this character he defrauded several persons of large sums of money. Advertising in order to get gentlemen wives, he swindled a person of the name of Wigmore of fifty guineas, for which he was indicted; but, having refunded a part, he effected his escape. These and other fraudulent practices were long the objects of his ambition, though they were all the certain roads to infamy.

We now arrive at that period of his life when he commenced his ravages upon the Bank of England, which ended in his destruction. In the year 1780 (under the assumed name of Brank) Mr Price engaged a servant, a plain, simple, honest fellow, by means of whom he passed his notes without detection. The young fellow observed an advertisement respecting a situation which seemed likely to suit him, so he answered it, but heard nothing of the advertiser for a whole week. One evening, however, just as it was dusk, a coachman inquired for the man who had answered the advertisement, saying there was a gentleman over the way, in a coach, who wanted to speak with him. On this the young fellow was called, and went to the coach, where he was desired to step in. There he saw an apparently old man, affecting the foreigner, seemingly very gouty, wrapped up with five or six yards of flannel about his legs, a camlet surtout buttoned over his chin, close to his mouth, a large patch over his left eye, and every part of his face so hidden that the young fellow could not see any part of it except his nose, his right eye and a small part of that cheek. To carry on the deception still better, Mr Price thought proper to place the man on his left side, on which the patch was, so that he could look askance at the young man with his right eye, and by that means discover only a small portion of his face. He appeared by his disguise to be between sixty and seventy years of age; and afterwards, when the man saw him standing, not much under six feet in height, owing to shoes or boots with heels very little less than three inches high. Added to this deception, he was so buttoned up and straitened that he appeared perfectly lank. He was in reality about five feet, six inches high, a compact, neat man, square-shouldered, inclined to corpulency. His legs were firm and well set; but by nature his features made him look much older than he really was, which, at that time, was nearly fifty. His nose was aquiline, and his eyes small and grey; his mouth stood very much inwards, with very thin lips; his chin pointed and prominent, with a pale complexion. But what contributed as much as anything to favour his disguise of speech was his loss of teeth. He walked exceedingly upright, was very active and quick in his walk, and was something above what we describe a man to be when we call him a dapper-made man.

This simple and honest fellow Samuel, whom Mr Price had engaged, was employed by him to negotiate his forged bills, principally in the purchase of lottery tickets, at the same time never fully disclosing to him his name, person or history. Indeed the plan was devised and executed with uncommon ability. However, Samuel was at last detected, having passed bills to the amount of fourteen hundred pounds. But his principal eluded discovery, and retired with his booty into the deepest shades of obscurity. The poor servant was imprisoned for nearly a twelvemonth, terrified out of his wits at being the innocent instrument of such complicated villainy.

Mr Price, having most probably exhausted his former acquisitions, sallied forth in the year 1782, after new game, with the most unparalleled audacity. For this purpose he obtained his second servant from a registry office, a smart active boy of the name of Power: his father was a Scots Presbyterian, and to ingratiate himself with him Mr Price made great pretensions to religion, expressing a hope that his son was well acquainted with the Lord's Prayer and the Ten Commandments. Our hero began his ravages upon a Mr Spilsbury, of Soho Square, ordering great quantities of his drops. Wilmot was his assumed name, and he introduced himself to Spilsbury as possessing all the symptoms of age and infirmity. He was wrapped up in a large camlet great-coat; he had a slouch hat on, the brim of which was large, and bent downwards on each side of his head; a piece of red flannel covered his chin and came up on each side of his face, almost as high as the cheek-bones; he had a large bush wig on, and his legs were wrapped over with flannel. He had also a pair of green spectacles on his nose, with a green silk shade hanging down from his hat, but no patch on his eye. It is remarkable that Mr Spilsbury knew Mr Price but not Mr Wilmot; nay, so complete was the deception that, sitting together in a coffee-house, Mr Spilsbury complained to his coffee-house acquaintance of the notes which Wilmot had imposed upon him. Price kept crying out now and then, "Lackaday! Good God! Who could suppose such knavery to exist! What, and did the bank refuse payment, sir?" staring through his spectacles with as much seeming surprise as an honest man would have done.

Price had often been at the shop of a grocer, Mr Roberts, in Oxford Street. Here he now and then bought a few articles, and took many opportunities of showing his importance. One day he called there in a hackney-coach, disguised as an old man, and bought a few things. A day or two afterwards he repeated his visit; and on a third day, when he knew Mr Roberts was from home, he went again, with his face so painted that he seemed diseased with the yellow jaundice. The shopman, to whom he enumerated his complaints, gave him a prescription for that disorder, one that had cured his father of it. Price gladly accepted the recipe, promising that if it succeeded he would very liberally reward him for his

civility. In a few days he called again, when he appeared perfectly free from the complaint, and acknowledged his great obligation to the shopman, to whom, after he had expatiated on his affluent circumstances, the short time he had to live in the world, and the few relations he had to leave anything to, he made a present of a ten-pound bank-note. The reader need not be told it was a counterfeit one. At the same time he said that he wanted cash for another, which was a fifty-pound note, and the obliging shopman got change for it from an opposite neighbour. The next day, in Mr Roberts's absence, he called again, and entreated the lad to get other five fifty-pound notes changed for small ones; and when he told him his master was not in the way Price begged he would take them to his master's banker, and there get them changed. This request the servant complied with. The bankers, Harley, Burchall & Co., complied with Mr Roberts's supposed request, and changed them without suspicion, and small notes were that day given for them to Mr Price.

Upon a great many other individuals he practised frauds equally ingenious and successful. In his last attempt on the bank, which ended in his detection, he assumed the name of Palton, pretended he was an Irish linen-factor, and employed two young men to circulate his notes, whilst he, greatly disguised, kept back in obscurity. By means of a pawnbroker he was found out, with great difficulty. On his seizure he solemnly declared his innocence, and before the magistrate behaved with insolence. This detection took place on the 14th of January, 1786. He was soon sworn to by more persons than one, and seeing no way of escape he pretended, to his wife in particular, great penitence; but there was no ground for its reality. The bank fully intended to prosecute him, and there was no doubt of his dying by the hands of the executioner. He was found, however, one evening hanging against the post of the door of his apartments, in Tothill Fields Bridewell.

The depredations of this villain amounted in the whole to upwards of one hundred thousand pounds; and yet, after his apprehension, he wrote a letter to a gentleman whom he had defrauded of more than two thousand pounds, recommending his wife and eight children to his protection.

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68: Michael Walker, Richard Payne and Robert Cox

Executed opposite Smart's Buildings, Holborn, London, 18th of

December, 1786, for Murder

MICHAEL WALKER, Richard Payne and Robert Cox were members of a young but desperate gang of street-robbers. Cox was not quite fifteen years of age when he suffered. On the 17th of November, 1786, Mr Robinson was walking with his friend, Mr Hunt, a painter, through Smart's Buildings, Holborn, when the latter, feeling something at his pocket, seized a man's hand. Yet the villain was dexterous enough to convey what he had stolen to an accomplice, whom Mr Hunt instantly collared, and a general scuffle ensued. There were more of the gang than those above named opposed to Mr Robinson and Mr Hunt, who maintained the unequal combat until other people came up, when the thieves ran off.

Mr Robinson was dreadfully wounded. He was cut across the eyes and nose with a knife, and had several desperate stabs in the body, and was otherwise much maimed. While he endured these wounds the villains called to each other, "Damn the rascal, cut his heart out!" and they were so intent upon this that one of the buttons on his breast was cut through, and his coat ripped more than eighteen inches in length. Mr Hunt was also wounded, though not in a degree to cause danger to his life; but Mr Robinson was carried home in a mangled condition, with little hope of his recovery.

In a short time the malefactors above named were apprehended, and sworn to by both the sufferers. Mr Robinson soon after died of his wounds. They were convicted and, unpitied, suffered the sentence of the law. For this purpose a temporary gibbet was erected opposite Smart's Buildings.

Walker was greatly affected at his fate, and held a book in his hand, Payne appeared in a state of stupidity. Cox, the boy, cried bitterly; and when he came within sight of the gallows he screamed, and was in a state of distraction when turned off.

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69: John Elliot, M.D.

Acquitted of a Serious Crime, he killed himself, by Hunger-Striking because of a Vindictive Sentence for a Minor Offence

DR ELLIOT was tried upon an indictment under the Black Act, with wilfully and maliciously discharging two pistols, loaded with powder and divers balls, at the person of Miss Mary Boydell. The second count charged him with firing one pistol, loaded with powder and one or more bullets, at the said Miss Boydell.

The evidence produced for the prosecution was as follows.

Mr George Nicol, bookseller to his Majesty, swore that, when walking up Prince's Street in company with Miss Boydell, he heard the loud explosion of a pistol close to his ear. It was so near, and the concussion of the air so strong, that it struck his ear like a blow. He turned round and, seeing the prisoner quite close to him with a pistol in his hand, which afterwards, however, turned out to be two pistols strongly tied together, seized him by the throat and said: "Are you the villain that fired?" The man said he was, and a footman who came up at the same moment either wrenched the pistols out of his hand or took them up as he dropped them. Then, having seen the lady taken into a shop, Mr Nicol went with the prisoner to Justice Hyde's. In going there the prisoner expressed great joy at what he had done, and, in particular, said that now he should die in peace, as he had sent the lady before him. Two more pistols were found in his pocket, apparently loaded to the muzzle, and those Mr Nicol delivered into the hands of Justice Hyde, and had not seen since. During the examination a lady came into the office and said she was happy to find that Miss Boydell was not dangerously wounded; upon which the prisoner, clashing his hands together, seemingly in an agony of disappointment, exclaimed, "Is she not dead?" and from this time, and during the continuance of the examination, he burst into a torrent of abuse against the lady, the alderman and his family.

These facts were clearly and circumstantially corroborated by the evidence of the livery-servant, and of Mr Griffith, a shoemaker in Prince's Street, who saw him fire the pistol, and who assisted in securing him.

Mr Nicol then swore that almost one half of the lady's cloak was burned, and that there were two marks on her gown, just below the shoulders, which seemed to correspond with the marks of the pistols as they were tied together.

A surgeon swore that Miss Boydell had two contusions just below the shoulder-blades which corresponded with the marks on the gown, and which evidently proceeded from blows received from some hard substance. Being asked if pistols loaded with bullets discharged so near the body could have made such marks he said he did not know; but it was certain that a pistol put quite close home to any resisting body, and discharged so as not to have the assistance of the air, lost much of its force.

Mr Silvester, on the part of the prisoner, called a Dr Symmonds to prove that he was insane. The doctor gave it as his opinion that he was so, and he had formed this opinion from a letter he had received from him in January, the purport of which was a philosophical hypothesis that the sun was not specifically a ball of fire, but that his heat proceeded from the quality of the atmosphere that surrounded his body. Some part of this paper was read, and, so far from betraying symptoms of insanity, it had all the marks of quick and cultivated parts. The hypothesis, however false, was ably argued; and as to the absurdity of the doctrine itself, the recorder aptly asked the doctor whether, if he judged of his intellect merely from a vague supposition as to the nature of the sun's heat, he might not equally declare Buffon and many other philosophers to be mad.

Mr O'Donnell, the successor of Mr Elliot, said he had observed symptoms of insanity in him, although he attended his patients very regularly and very properly. This inconsistency drew from Mr Garrow some sharp questions, which Mr O'Donnell said did not, by the way in which they were put, enable him to give so clear an account of the case as he otherwise would do if not puzzled by the counsel.

Two people with whom he lodged also said they remarked insanity; but he was a good, quiet lodger, and they saw no harm in him.

The recorder said it was necessary that the jury should be convinced that one or both pistols was loaded with ball. It was evident, first from the exultation, and afterwards the disappointment, expressed by Elliot, as well as by his declarations, that his intention was to take away the life of the lady― that he had deliberated on the fact, and had coolly prepared the means, But it was for them to inquire whether, in the anxiety incident to so horrid a project, he had not either blundered in the loading, or had chosen the wrong pair of pistols; for if they were not convinced that one or both of them was loaded with ball they must acquit the prisoner. Here one of the jurymen said: "Surely, my Lord, nothing can be more clear than that the pistols were not loaded with ball."

On this the recorder said that if they were all of this opinion it was needless for him to enumerate the evidence in defence of the prisoner.

The jury, after some consultation, brought in a verdict of  guilty of shooting, but they did not find that there was ball. On this the recorder directed them to acquit the prisoner, which they did.

The recorder said this was no ground for exultation to the prisoner. His crime in the eye of Heaven was the same, and he should order him to be detained to be tried for the assault; and it was a duty which the prosecutors owed to society to bring him to his trial in that way. This officiousness of justice proved fatal to poor Elliot. He was a man of extreme sensibility, and being convicted of the assault, and a vindictive sentence passed, he adopted a determination to starve himself to death; and, in spite of entreaty and force, persisted in not swallowing any sustenance, till he died a victim of the misplaced punctilio of law.

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1787

70: Henry Sterne

Commonly called "Gentleman Harry." Convicted of stealing the Duke of Beaufort's Pendant, 1787

THIS man was styled "A Gentleman Thief." He dressed well, and being of an easy address, and tolerably educated, got admission to the best company, where he could advantageously levy his contributions.

On the King's birthday, in the year 1787, Sterne took up his post at St. James's Palace, where numbers resorted to see the Court dresses and the fashions. On such occasions courtiers pay their addresses to their sovereign in their different orders. The Duke of Beaufort, as a Knight of the Garter, among the other companions of that most dignified order, had his George pendent from its ribbon. It was set with diamonds, and was worth a considerable sum of money. This George was taken from him by Gentleman Harry, for which offence he was brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, on the 12th of September, 1787.

The Duke thereon deposed that on the 4th of June, on returning from the levee at St James's, he found himself surrounded by a vast number of persons, the meaning of which did not immediately occur to his mind, but on putting down his hand to feel for his George he missed it. Calling out very loudly to his servants, they came up. He was asked to point out the thief, but his confusion was so great that he could only point to a man dressed in black, who stood near him. In a short time the Duke saw one of his servants seize a gentlemanly-looking person, whom he had not before observed, and on whom the George was found.

The Duke then produced the precious article to the Court, which, he said, had not been out of his possession since it was taken out of the prisoner's pocket.

On his cross-examination by the prisoner's counsel, when asked if he was sure that the prisoner at the bar was the man who stole the George, the Duke replied his suspicions chiefly rested on the man in black.

Thomas West, servant to the Duke, swore that he seized and searched the man in black, and found nothing; but on seizing the prisoner, and putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled out the George. He admitted that he did not see the George taken from his Grace, but he swore positively to taking it out of the prisoner's pocket.

Shepley, the gate-keeper at Cleveland Row, corroborated the evidence of West, having seen the whole transaction and this closed the case on the part of the prosecution. In his defence the prisoner made a short but neat speech to the Court, wherein he principally rested upon the hope that the passions of the jury would not be prejudiced on account of the many slanders against him in the newspapers. He called no witnesses.

The judge, in giving his charge to the jury, so far agreed with the observations of the prisoner as to hope that their minds were entirely unprejudiced. He observed that there were two separate crimes charged in the indictment:

First.-- That the prisoner committed a robbery on the person of his Grace the Duke of Beaufort, on the highway.

Second. -- For privately stealing from his person.

It was, continued the judge, for the jury to say whether it came out in proof that it was the prisoner's hand that stole the George. If not, they must acquit him of privately stealing, which would, of course, clear him of the capital charge.

The jury withdrew, and after a consultation of fifteen minutes brought in their verdict of guilty of stealing, but not privately.

He was sentenced to be transported to Botany Bay for seven years.

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1789

71: Thomas Denton

His Misapplied Talents led to his Downfall, and he was executed before Newgate, 1st of July, 1789 for making Base Coin

THOMAS DENTON was born in the north part of Yorkshire. He was bound apprentice to a tinman, and served his time with much credit to himself and profit to his master. His genius, it appears, expanded beyond the making of kettles, for he evinced a taste for literature. He opened a bookseller's shop in the city of York, where he particularly attended to works on mechanism; and, with a superficial store of such arts, he gave up his few shelves of books and, on their sale, went as an adventurer to the great mart of genius, London.

He had formed no settled plan of life, but determined to employ some days in viewing minutely the great metropolis. Passing through the parish of St James's, his attention was arrested by some foreigners exhibiting a speaking figure. He immediately paid his admission, and took a very correct examination of the automaton. Returning to his lodgings, he fancied that he could construct a similar machine equal to that of the ingenious foreigner, and he determined, without further delay, to set about this work.

Difficulties, however, insurmountable to a man without genius and perseverance, presented themselves. An unknown individual as he was, he had to furnish himself, in a strange place, with a workshop, tools and materials. Yet man's industry, which, he had read, had levelled mountains, diverted the course of large rivers, and carried navigation into the bowels of the earth, would hardly stop at forming the figure of a pigmy. To set to work took time, labour and money; but once seated thereat, his ingenuity soon made rapid progress, and, with but one more hired view of the original, he completed a far superior figure to that of the vaunting German.

His work having been deemed the most complete, he wisely determined against all opposition in London, where the milk of such a rare show had already been skimmed, and accordingly set off with it into the country. There he collected vast sums of money at each city which he pitched upon for the exhibition of his famous speaking figure.

His active mind, it seems, still was discontented. He, looking upon his first essay in mechanism as far inferior to his expanded ideas, determined upon returning to London, in order to undertake a superior work. He soon found a purchaser for the speaking figure (a printer in the City of London, who melted it down for his types) and set about a writing automaton. This, too, he finished with most exquisite and ingenious workmanship.

The artificial penman delighted him no longer than the speaker; and he next applied himself to chemistry. In pursuit of this science he met with Pinetti's book of deceptions, which he translated (having previously to learn the language in which it was written), and added to it various notes and observations.

He also made himself master of an improvement in the art of plating coach harness. Conceiving this profitable branch of business united to that of a bookseller would make his fortune, he for some time carried on both in Holborn. Here his good fortune, by his own indiscretion, failed him. The art, thus self-acquired, of plating metal, led him into company with others professing that branch of business, and among them was a coiner of base shillings.

Here, too, as with the Germans, he fancied he could far excel in this criminal proceeding; and the powers that assisted him to make several mathematical instruments, as pentagraphs, etc., enabled him to imitate the current coin of the kingdom in a manner that deceived the best judges, and which upon his trial at the Old Bailey for that offence kept the Court in doubt for seven hours. Nor could he be convicted of coining, but he was found guilty of having implements for coining in his possession, which alone proved fatal to him.

He was condemned to die; and we are reluctant in adding to the character of such a man of genius as Thomas Denton that his behaviour after condemnation was impious in the extreme. To sum up the whole, he died a professed infidel.

A few minutes before he was brought out of his cell for execution he requested pen, ink and paper; and in the most composed manner sat down and wrote the following letter:--

DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,

When you receive this I shall be gone to that country from whence no traveller returns. Don't cast any reflections on my wife, the best of mothers, and the best of women; and if ever woman went to heaven, she will. If I had taken her advice I should not have been in this situation. God bless my poor Dick [his son]. The bell is tolling. Adieu!

T. DENTON.

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72: Thomas Gordon

Executed at Northampton, 17th of August, 1789, for a Murder ordered by his Mother

MR GORDON, the father of this wretched youth, was a surgeon and apothecary in London, from whence he removed his family into Northamptonshire.

Mr Gordon continued to practise in the country, and soon became envied, and obnoxious to his neighbours, being considered as an intruder, from not being a native of the county. The consequence of this was frequent quarrels; and at length a justice's warrant was obtained against him, on a pretended charge of assault.

The constable went to Mr Gordon's house, in order to apprehend him, but the wife and the son told the officer that he was not at home. This was not the case, and the constable knew he was in the house: he, however, went away, but soon returned with some neighbours, who tried to make a forcible entry. The mother and son opposed them, and the latter was armed with a gun. The populace threw stones at the windows, when the mother, in an unlucky moment, bade her son fire; he did so, and killed the constable on the spot.

Both mother and son were tried, and found guilty of this murder; but Baron Thompson, who presided on the bench, observing that the mother was indicted as accessory before the fact, and the evidence turning out that she was a principal, had doubts whether she was properly convicted, and thcrefore reserved the case for the opinion of the twelve judges, who, upon solemn argument, confirmed the sentence against the son, but at the same time adjudged the indictment against the mother to be bad; and the poor youth received sentence of death. He was, however, three times reprieved; from which he hoped, and the world flattered him with an opinion, that his pardon would ultimately follow.

While cheered with this idea, an order came for his execution. He was scarcely nineteen years of age, and died for an act which, at the time of its commission, he considered a defence of his father and an act of obedience to the orders of his mother.

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73: Thomas Phipps, Esq., And Thomas Phipps, His Son

Executed for a Forgery committed by the Younger Man, who exonerated his Father, 5th of September, 1789

THESE malefactors were father and son. The father was a man of good property, and lived on his own estate at Llwyney Mapsis, in Shropshire; and he and his son were indicted for uttering a note of hand for twenty pounds, purporting to be that of Mr Richard Coleman, of Oswestry, knowing the same to have been forged.

It was proved on their trial that Mr Coleman never had had transactions with Mr Phipps which required the signing of any note whatever; that about the previous Christmas Mr Coleman was served with a copy of a writ at the suit of Mr Phipps the elder, which action Mr Coleman defended, and for want of further proceedings on the part of the plaintiff a non pros. was signed, with two pounds, three shillings costs of suit against Phipps. Upon this an affidavit was drawn up and sworn by Phipps the elder, Phipps the younger, and William Thomas, their clerk, for the purpose of moving the Court of Exchequer to set aside the judgment of non pros., and therein they swore that the cause of action was a note of the said Coleman for twenty pounds, which was given as satisfaction for a trespass by him committed in carrying some hay off the land of one of Mr Phipps the elder's tenants.

The Court thereupon granted a rule to show cause why the judgment should not be set aside; but Mr Coleman insisted that the note was a forgery, and the present prosecution was instituted against the father, son and Thomas.

After a full hearing at the assizes at Shrewsbury the father and son were pronounced "guilty of uttering and publishing the note, knowing it to be forged"; and William Thomas was found "not guilty."

Though convicted on the fullest evidence, the unhappy men, until the morning of their execution, persisted in their innocence; but when about to leave the jail young Phipps made the following confession: "It was I alone who committed the forgery: my father is entirely innocent, and was ignorant of the note being forged when he published it."

They were taken in a mourning-coach to the place of execution, accompanied by a clergyman and a friend who had attended them daily after their condemnation.

On their way to the fatal tree the father said to the son "Tommy, thou hast brought me to this shameful end, but I freely forgive thee"; to which the son made no reply. Being remarkably wet weather, their devotions were performed chiefly in the coach. When the awful moment arrived, Mr Phipps said to his son: "You have brought me hither; do you lead the way!" Which the youth immediately did, and in the most composed manner ascended the ladder to a temporary scaffold erected for the purpose of their execution, followed by his father.

When their devotions were finished, and the halters tied to the gallows, this most wretched father and son embraced each other, and in a few moments the scaffold fell, and hand-in-hand they were launched into eternity, the 5th of September, 1789, amid a vast concourse of pitying spectators. The father was forty-eight, and the son just twenty years of age.

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74: William Ward

A boxer, convicted of manslaughter for killing his opponent.

"BOXING" says a British writer, "which is the setting of the most worthless of the human species to batter each other to mummy, to break jaws, to knock eye-balls out of their sockets, to flatten the nose, beat out teeth, or to dash each other to the ground, with such dexterity as that they shall never rise again, if not a royal sport, is, at least, a princely entertainment, and manifests the exalted taste of its patrons."

On the subject of boxing, in his own country, the American geographer, Dr. Morse, says, that, "When two boxers are wearied out with fighting and bruising each other (in which encounters they kick and bite, as well as strike), they come, as it is called, to close quarters, and each endeavours to twist his forefingers into the ear-locks of his antagonist. When these are fast clenched, the thumbs are extended each way to the nose, and the eyes gently turned out of their sockets. The victor, for his expertness, receives shouts of applause from the sporting throng, while his poor eyeless antagonist is laughed at for his misfortune." This, in America, is called Gouging.

The author of "The Stranger in America," in commenting upon the above passage, after adducing many instances of gouging, observes, "But let us conclude this odious subject, which never should have stained these pages, had not the author alluded to (Morse) proclaimed to the world the cruel and unnatural facts, by observing that these barbarities appear not to have been the genuine growth of American soil. No such practice would be endured by an English mob; no such disgraceful revenge ever entered the breast of a Creek, a Cherokee, or a Kickapoo Indian."

The sight is not the oniy sense endangered in these brutal contests in England; and life itself has oftener, than in the murder now in question, been lost in prize-fighting, as we shall show before we have done with the boxing of William Ward.

The barbarous and unlawful practice of fisticuffs, which the fools of fashion dignify by the name of pugilism, since the rude days of Broughton, had, until this period, happily become nearly out of use. Its renewal shows that there are periodical returns of fashion, even in amusements of cruelty.

The first public renewal of this species of cruelty was a battle between two low fellows, a Jew and a Christian, in outward form, but in heart, as Dr. Morse styles some of his countrymen, Nothingarians― that is, those who have not the fear of God before their eyes, through any medium of religion.

The fisticuffings between Humphries and Mendoza formed a treat for such fellows as may be daily seen lounging in Bond Street. Peers and pickpockets, cheek by jowl, scampered some score miles to witness the bloody spectacles which these two ruffians made of each other. As at a cockfight, they made their bets, which as between the "grey and pile," varied in proportion to the rounds, or knockdown blows, the failing eye, or the quantity of blood spilt.

The roads to this scene of inhumanity were thronged with all descriptions of idle fellows; some mounted upon the high-mettled racer, and others kicking and whipping miserable jackasses, that they too might be in at the death, or giving it, as they term it, of the most exhausted of the two ruffian candidates for the gaining of public applause in prize-fighting.

Even royalty, which must ever be at the head of every fashion, was often in the motley mob collected to witness these disgraceful exhibitions; but, bad as are our youth, they will become still worse by following such pernicious examples.

His Majesty, when Prince of Wales, in one of these mortal conflicts, found one of the combatants made a corpse at his feet, upon the stage of pugilistic fight. The heir-apparent to the British crown turned pale away from the horrid sight, and made a vow never more to behold so savage and dangerous a contest, and to which he has conscientiously adhered.

Of the worst description of vagabonds, who run from one bloody stage to the other, was the fellow who now comes under our notice. His origin mean, his understanding totally uncultivated; arrogant of his savage prowess, vicious and cruel; he had often fought, and was the inglorious conqueror; but, in his turn, was shamefully vanquished, and, to the satisfaction of all who wished the downfall of such a desperado, by the fighting Jew, who had been considered his inferior in this despicable attainment.

William Ward, as we have already said, was once a pugilist, high in renown among the fashionable amateurs of that degrading pursuit. He, with several more of his infamous calling, had monopolized the outside stage-coach, journeying to Stilton, seventy-one miles from London, to attend another rencontre, between Jew Mendoza and Christian Humphries. They had not proceeded farther than Enfield, where, as the coach stopped to change horses, the bravado of Ward stimulated a drunken blacksmith, named Edwin Swain, to challenge him to combat.

Now, though there is no honour in the owner of a bloodhorse, or a game cock, to match with a dunghill, or an animal that had toiled in harness, yet Ward inhumanly accepted the foolish dolt's invitation; and, for a while, they did buffet each other with lusty sinews; but science soon overcame brute force, for, in fact, the blacksmith could not hit the trained bruiser. He therefore soon yielded the palm of victory, and retired into the public house, before which the coach and passengers waited the event of this shameful contest. This professed pugilist followed, and upon his unguarded antagonist dealt his fists, until the object of his cruelty was actually beaten to death!

Ward, conscious of the magnitude of his offence, hired a post-chaise, and, with his companions, set off to return to London, where they could best conceal themselves from offended justice; but they were pursued, and committed to prison.

The coroner's jury were divided in opinion, seven finding the crime "wilful murder," and nine "manslaughter"; and, from the circumstances attending the horrid deed, Ward was not admitted to bail; though he boasted that he could find security for his appearance to any amount. A poor mechanic, an useful member of society, might linger in gaol without a friend to bail him, while such ruffians have their aiders, abettors, and protectors, in men of property, rank, and title!

On the 5th of June, 1789, William Ward was arraigned at the bar of the Old Bailey, for the murder of Edwin Swain, and, after a long trial, found guilty of manslaughter, fined one shilling, and sentenced to be imprisoned three months in Newgate.

The evidence did not amount to the proof of actual malice, as the deceased first provoked the contest.

Mr. Justice Ashurst, who tried Ward, expressed his detestation of the inhuman and unlawful practice of boxing, and declared it to be a disgrace to a civilized nation.

At the expiration of his sentence and when about to be liberated Ward had the unparalleled effrontery to offer a public challenge to fight at the next Newmarket meeting.

"Is this," says a monthly publication for September, 1789, commenting on this subject, "the effect of the wholesome severity of the law? or are these gross violations of humanity to proceed till more homicides are committed?"

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1790

75: Samuel Hinchcliffe

Convicted at the Westminster Sessions in January, 1790, Imprisoned and publicly whipped for a Fraudulent Trick

AN Act of Parliament was passed, a short time subsequent to the conviction of this man, to prevent the exploiting of carriers and porters bringing packages for coach, wagon, etc., to London. The imposition had arrived at such a pitch that rascals, pretending to be porters at inns, would often put a few stones or brickbats into hand-baskets, and other packages, and cheat the unsuspicious, to whom they had directed them, of a few shillings, as carriage and porterage. Other villains, actually porters to inns, would charge carriage though already paid in the country, as will be found in the present case.

Samuel Hinchcliffe having thus imposed upon Daniel Delaney, Esq., that gentleman commenced a prosecution against him, on which he was tried at the Westminster sessions for fraudulently obtaining from Cowley, his servant, two shillings, under pretence of its being for the carriage of a parcel from Norwich, the prisoner well knowing that the carriage had been before paid.

Cowley deposed that the prisoner brought to his master's house a parcel directed to Daniel Delaney, Esq. He told the witness he had brought it from the White Horse Inn, Fetter Lane, and demanded two shillings for the carriage, and one shilling for the porterage. The witness observed to him that the carriage ought to have been paid, and on looking at the direction he discovered that part of it had been torn off, and "Three Shillings" written over it.

This created suspicion, and he several times advised the prisoner not to take the two shillings for the carriage, as he was persuaded it had been paid. The prisoner, however, persisted in his charge, and took three shillings. The next day the witness was sent by his master to the White Horse, and found that the parcel had not been brought from that inn. He then went to the Swan, in Lad Lane, to which inn he found that the parcel had come by the Norwich coach, and that the carriage had been paid in the country.

The next witness called was a clerk at the Swan, who deposed that the prisoner was an assistant porter at that house, employed to deliver parcels. Upon examining the way-book he found the carriage of the parcel had been paid, and that the prisoner had accounted for only one shilling for the porterage.

The jury immediately found him guilty.

Mr Mainwaring, the chairman, observed that this was a case of great importance to the public, who were daily suffering under such impositions. As it was very difficult to detect this kind of fraud, it was necessary to make an example of those offenders against whom the charge was proved. He further added that Mr Delaney, by instituting this prosecution, merited the thanks of the public. He then sentenced the prisoner to three months' imprisonment, and to be publicly whipped from the Admiralty to Charing Cross, and from thence to Bridge Street, Parliament Street; which punishment was inflicted, to the great satisfaction of the spectators.

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76: John Dyer

A Westminster Schoolboy, executed at Newgate, 5th of August, 1790, for Forgery

JOHN DYER brought great trouble and disgrace on his most respectable parents and connections. He received his education at Westminster School; from thence he was placed in a merchant's counting-house, and had not seen quite nineteen years when he atoned for the crime of forgery by his life.

On the 7th of May, 1789, Dyer called at the shop of Mr Scott, wax-chandler, in New Bond Street, and ordered thirty-six pounds of candles, which he pretended were for Sir William Hamilton, and in payment tendered a bill of exchange in the following words:―

Dyer received the balance, but the candles ordered to be sent, as he directed, being refused, Mr Scott instantly suspected that he had been imposed upon by a forgery. The unfortunate youth was soon found, and committed to Newgate.

When put on his trial every spectator's heart was filled with pity, and, being called on for his defence, he said that he had received the bill from Mr Kelsy, his employer, who ordered him to put the name of Mr Miller on the back; that he was ignorant of the consequence of so doing, and that he acted merely as a servant. Bringing no proof, he was found guilty; and though interest was made to save his life, he died ignominiously on the gallows, on the 5th of August, 1790.

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77: Edward Lowe and William Jobbins

Young Incendiaries, who set fire to a House in order to plunder it, and were executed in the City, 20th of November, 1790

THESE prisoners were indicted at the Old Bailey sessions for feloniously setting fire to the house of Francis Gilding, in Aldersgate Street, on the 16th of May, 1790.

From the evidence of the apprentice of Mr Gilding, who was an accomplice in the wicked deed, it appeared that he was acquainted with the two prisoners, who were persons of bad character; and that it was determined among them that Mr Gilding's house, which was the Red Lion Inn, should be set on fire, in order that they might plunder it. Accordingly, at about twelve o'clock on the night of Saturday, 16th of May, they met in the inn-yard, and Lowe got up into the hay-loft and, placing some combustibles there, set them alight with a pipe, which he was smoking.

The fire soon blazed up, and the prisoners very actively carried off the goods, which they took away in a cart. The witness was in the act of carrying away a chest of drawers when he was stopped by Lucie, a constable, upon whose evidence he was convicted. He subsequently, however, on condition of being pardoned, consented to give evidence against the prisoners. This testimony being confirmed by that of other witnesses, the jury returned a verdict of guilty against the prisoners, and on the 2nd of November they were brought up to receive judgment. The learned recorder then addressed them in the following terms:

"I hardly know how to find words to express the abhorrence that I feel, or that the public entertains, of the crime of which you stand convicted. The setting fire to houses in the dead of night, for the purpose of plunder, at the risk of the lives of the inhabitants of a great city, is a crime not yet to be met with upon the records of villainy that have been brought forward in this court. As the crime is singular, so the punishment must be marked. I take it that it will be so marked, and hope the example will be such that if there should be left any persons of the same wicked intentions they will take example from your fate. As your crime is singular and novel, I hope it will be the only one brought into this court of the same description. You therefore must prepare to die, and consider yourselves as men without hope in this world. And give me leave to assure you that it is my decided opinion that, for an offence so very atrocious as yours, you can never expect salvation in the world to come unless you make some reparation to your injured country, and to God, Whom you have offended, by a sincere confession of all the offences of which you have been guilty, and by a disclosure of the names of all persons who either have engaged, or are about to engage, in crimes so detestable as that of which you stand convicted. Nothing therefore remains but that I should pray to Almighty God, and it is now my earnest prayer to Him that you may all obtain forgiveness and remission of your sins."

On the morning of the 20th of November these incendiaries were brought out of Newgate and placed on a high seat, which had been fixed in the cart to render them more conspicuous to the spectators. They were then conveyed, attended by the sheriffs and other city officers, to Aldersgate Street, where a temporary gallows was erected opposite the spot where stood the house of Mr Gilding, to which they had set fire. They arrived at the fatal tree about a quarter before nine o'clock, when Mr Villette, the ordinary, went into the cart and prayed with them for about twenty minutes, after which they were turned off. They both confessed to Mr Villette the facts for which they so justly suffered.

Jobbins had been educated at St Paul's School, was bred a surgeon, and was only nineteen years of age when he suffered. Lowe was about twenty-three years of age.

A boy named Mead was, on the 31st of August in the ensuing year, executed for a similar offence, in firing the house of his master, Mr Walter Cavardine, a publican, in Red Lion Street.

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78: Renwick Williams

Commonly called "The Monster." Convicted 13th Of December, 1790, of a brutal and wanton Assault on Miss Ann Porter

SEVERAL months previous to the apprehension of this man, a report ran through all ranks of society, that young females, had been secretly wounded in different parts of their bodies, in the public streets, and often in the daytime, by a monster, who, upon committing the brutal crime, effected his escape.

At length a man named Renwick Williams was apprehended on the charge of one of the young ladies thus brutally wounded, and his trial came on at the Old Bailey, on the 18th of January, 1790.

The indictment charged, that with force and arms, in the parish of St. James's on the king's highway, Renwick Williams did, unlawfully, wilfully, and maliciously, make an assault upon, maim, and wound, Ann Porter, against the peace, &c. A second count charged the said Renwick Williams, that on the same day and year, he did, unlawfully, wilfully, and maliciously, tear, spoil, cut, and deface, the garments and clothes, to wit, the cloak, gown, petticoat, and shift, of the said Ann Porter, contrary to the statute, and against the peace, &c.

Miss Ann Porter deposed, that she had been at St. James's, to see the ball, on the night of the 18th of January, 1790, accompanied by her sister, Miss Sarah Porter, and another lady; that her father had appointed to meet them at twelve o'clock, the hour the ball generally breaks up; but that it ended at eleven; and she was therefore under the necessity either of staying where she was, until her father came, or to return home at that time. Her father, she said, lived in St. James's Street, and that he kept a tavern and a cold-bath. She agreed to go home with her party.

As they proceeded up St. James's Street, her sister appeared much agitated, and called to her to hasten home, which she and her company accordingly did. Her sister was the first to reach the hall- door. As the witness turned the corner of the rails, she received a blow on the right hip; she turned round, and saw the prisoner stoop down: she had seen him before several times, on each of which he had followed close behind her, and used language so gross, that the court did not press on her to relate the particulars.

He did not immediately run away when he struck her, but looked on her face, and she thus had a perfect opportunity of observing him. She had no doubt, she said, of the prisoner being the man that wounded her. She supposed that the wound was inflicted with a sharp instrument, because her clothes were cut, and she was wounded through them.

Miss Porter further deposed, that on the thirteenth of June last, she was walking in St. James's Park, with her mother and her two sisters, and a gentleman of the name of Coleman. The prisoner at the bar met and passed her; she was struck with his person, and knew him; she found he had turned to look after her. Upon appearing agitated, she was questioned, and pointed him out to Mr Coleman. She said she knew him, when he was brought up to the public-office, at Bow Street.

Her gown of pink silk, and her shift, which she wore the night she was wounded, were produced in court, and were cut on the right side a considerable length.

Miss Sarah Porter was next called. She swore, that she had seen the prisoner at the bar, prior to the 18th of June last, but had no acquaintance with him. He had followed her, and talked to her in language the most shocking and obscene. She had seen him four of five different times. On that night, when her sister was cut, she saw him standing near the bottom of St. James's Street, and spying her, he exclaimed, 'O, ho! are you there?' and immediately struck her a violent blow on the side of the head. She then, as well as she was able, being almost stunned called to her sister, to make haste, adding, 'Don't you see the wretch behind us?' Upon coming to their own door, the prisoner rushed between them, and about the time he struck her sister, he also rent the witness's gown. There were lights in the street, and she knew him.

Two more sisters, Miss Rebecca Porter and Miss Martha Porter, also bore unequivocal testimony, as to the identity of the prisoner, with respect to his having accosted them in company with their sisters, with the most obscene and indecent language.

Mr. John Coleman was the next witness called. He swore that he was walking with Miss Ann Porter, and the rest of her family, in St. James's Park, on the evening of Sunday, the thirteenth of June, 1789. That, upon observing Miss Porter much agitated, and enquiring the cause, she pointed out the prisoner at the bar, and said, 'the wretch had just passed her.' Having pointed him out, the witness followed him to the house of Mr. Smith, in South Moulton Street, and upon going into the parlour where he was, expressed his surprise on the prisoner's not resenting the insults he (the witness) had offered him; and demanded his address. Mr. Smith and the prisoner both expressed their surprise at such a demand, without a reason given; he therefore said, that he, the prisoner, had insulted some ladies, who had pointed him out, and that he must have satisfaction. The prisoner denied having offered any insult; but, upon his persisting, they exchanged addresses.

The prisoner's address was produced by the witness, No. 52, Jermyn Street. The witness and the prisoner then mutually recognised each other, as having been in company with each other before, and the witness then departed. On his departure, he repented having quitted him, and turning back, he met with him at the top of St. James's Street; he then accosted him again, saying, 'I don't think you are the person I took you for; you had better come with me now; and let the ladies see you.' The prisoner objected, as it was late at night; but upon his saying it was close by, be went with him.

On his being introduced into the parlour, where the Miss Porters were sitting, two of them, Ann and Sarah, fainted away, exclaiming, 'Oh! my God! that's the wretch!' The prisoner then said, 'The ladies' behaviour is odd. They don't take me for the monster that is advertised?' The witness said, they did.

The prisoner was there an hour before he was taken away, and in that time said nothing particular.

Mr. Tomkins, surgeon, was next called. By his description the wound must have been made by a very sharp instrument. He had also examined the clothes, and they must have been cut at the same time. The wound itself was, at the beginning, for two or three inches, but skin-deep; about the middle of it, three or four inches deep, and gradually decreasing in depth towards the end. The length of the wound, from the hip downwards, was nine or ten inches.

The prisoner being called upon for his defence, begged the indulgence of the court, in supplying the deficiency of his memory, upon what he wished to state, from a written paper. He accordingly read as follows:

'He stood,' he said, 'an object equally demanding the attendon and compassion of the court. That, conscious of his innocence, he was ready to admit the justice of whatever sufferings he had hitherto undergone, arising from suspicion. He had the greatest confidence in the justice and liberality of an English jury, and hoped they would not suffer his fate to be decided by the popular prejudice raised against him. The hope of proving his innocence had hitherto sustained him.

'He professed himself the warm friend and admirer of that sex whose cause was now asserted; and concluded with solemnly declaring, that the whole prosecution was founded on a dreadful mistake, which, he had no doubt, but that the evidence he was about to call, would clear up, to the satisfaction of the court.'

His counsel then proceeded to call his witnesses.

Mr Mitchell, the first evidence, is an artificial flower maker, living in Dover Street, Piccadilly. The prisoner had worked for him nine months in all; he had worked with him on the eighteenth of January, the Queen's birthday, the day on which Miss Porter had been wounded, from nine o'clock in the morning, till one o'clock in the day, and from half past two till twelve at night. He bad then supped with the family. He gave the prisoner a good character, as behaving with good nature to the women in the house.

Miss Mitchell, the former witness's sister, told the same story.

Two other witnesses, domestics in the same house, likewise appeared on behalf of the prisoner; but the whole of the evidence, on his part, proved rather contradictory.

Mr. Justice Buller, with great accuracy and ability, went through the whole of this extraordinary business, stating with great clearness and perspicuity, the parts of the evidence that were most material for the consideration of the jury, with many excellent observations.

He said, it had been stated in various ways, that great outrages had been committed by the prisoner at the bar, and therefore, in his defence, he had very properly, not only applied to the compassion of the jury, to guard against the effects of prejudice, but also to their judgment. It was very proper to do so, and in this he only demanded justice; prejudice often injured, though it could never serve, the cause of justice.

In this the jury would have only to consider, what were the facts of which they were to be satisfied, and on which it was their province to decide. This being done by them, and if they should find the prisoner guilty, upon the present charge, he would reserve his case for the opinion of the twelve judges of England, and this be should do for several reasons; first, because this was completely and perfectly a new case in itself; and, secondly, because this was the first indictment of this kind that was ever tried. Therefore, although he himself entertained but little doubt upon the first point, yet, as the case was new, it would be right to have a solemn decision upon it. So that hereafter the law, in that particular, may be declared from undoubted authority.

Upon the second point, he owned, that he entertained some doubts. This indictment was certainly the first of the kind that was ever drawn in this kingdom. It was founded upon the statute of the 6th Geo. I. Upon this statute it must be proved, that it was the intent of the party accused, not only to wound the body, but also cut, tear, and spoil the garment; here the learned judge read the clause of the act: one part of this charge was quite clear, namely, that Miss Porter was wounded, and her clothes torn. The first question, therefore, for the consideration of the jury would be, whether this was done wilfully, and with intent to spoil the garment, as well as to wound the body. That was a fact for the jury to decide, and if they agreed upon this, then, whether the prisoner was the man who did it.

He observed, that there might be cases in which the clothes were torn, and yet where this act would not apply; such, for instance, as a scuffle in a quarrels where clothes might be torn wilfully, but not with that malice and previous intent which this act required. It should be observed, that here there was a wound given, with an instrument that was not calculated solely for the purpose of affecting the body, such, for instance, as piercing or stabbing, by making a hole, but here was an actual cutting, and the wound was of a very considerable length, and so was the rent in the clothes. It was for the jury to decide, whether, as both body and clothes were cut, he who intended the end, did not also intend the means. He left it to the jury to say, upon the whole of the case, whether the prisoner was guilty or innocent.

The jury intmediately, without hesitation, found the prisoner guilty.

Mr. Justice Buller then ordered the judgment in this case to be arrested, and the recognizances of the persons bound to prosecute, to be respited until the December sessions.

The court was crowded with spectators by nine, when this trial began, which ended at five o'clock at night.

All the witnesses were examined separately.

At the commencement of the sessions at the Old Bailey, on the 10th December, Judge Ashurst addressed the prisoner nearly in the following terms: 'You have been capitally convicted under the stat. 6 Geo. I. of maliciously tearing, cutting, spoiling, and defacing, the garments of Ann Porter, on the 18th January last. Judgment has been arrested upon two points: one, that the indictment is informal; the other that the act of Parliament does not reach the crime, Upon solemn consideration, the judges are of opinion, that both the objections are well founded: but although you are discharged from this indictment, yet you are within the purview of the common law. You are therefore to be remanded to be tried for a misdemeanor.'

He was accordingly, on the 13th of the same month, tried at Hick's-hall, for a misdemeanor, in making an assault on Miss Ann Porter.

The trial lasted sixteen hours: there were three counts in the indictment, viz, for assaulting with intent to kill, for assaulting and wounding, and for a common assault.

The charge was that he, on the 18th January, 1790, made an assault on Ann Porter, and with a certain knife inflicted on her person a wound nine inches long, and in the middle part of it four inches deep. The same witnesses were then called in support of the charge, as appeared on the trial at the Old Bailey; they gave a very clear, correct, and circumstantial evidence, positively swearing to the person of the prisoner. The facts proved were nearly the same, with very little variation indeed with those which were given in vidence on his trial for the felony at the Old Bailey; for which reason we forbear to enter more fully on this trial. The prisoner produced two witnesses, Miss Amet and Mr. Mitchell, who attempted to prove a clear alibi, and the credit of their testimony was not impeached by any contradiction.

The question therefore was, to which the jury would give credit; for the evidence on both sides was equally fair and unexceptionable.

The prisoner was again put to the bar at ten o'clock the next morning, and tried on the remaining indictments, on three of which he was found guilty; when the oourt sentenced him to two years' imprisonment in Newgate for each, and at the expiration of the time to find security for his good behaviour, himself in £200. and two sureties in £100. each.

This singular case excited universal attention; but many were by no means convinced of his guilt, believing that the witnesses, a circumstance which we have shewn too frequently to have happened, mistook the person of the prisoner. The particulars we have given of this brutal attack on the defenceless, by a monster of the stronger sex, with our full report of the trial, will sufficiently prepare our readers to judge for themselves on the case of Renwick Williams, divested of the popular prejudice then strong against him.

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1791

79: John Belville

Convicted at the Old Bailey, 16th of February, 1791, for a Robbery from "the Dwelling-House of her Majesty, called Buckingham House"

THE indictment against this singularly daring thief charged him with feloniously stealing a pair of silver snuffers, one silver snuffer-stand and two silver vessels from the dwelling-house of her Majesty, called Buckingham House, the property of his Majesty.

The wretched man did not deny the theft, but pleaded excessive poverty. He said he was a gentleman by birth, and was brought over to England by a Russian gentleman, with whom he had lived, as his valet, four years. On his master's return to Russia he was recommended by him to an English family, and afterwards served other gentlemen of property; he, at length was engaged to serve Miss Burney, one of the maids-of-honour to the Queen, as her footman. He had not lived long in her service before he discovered that some secret enemy was working his ruin, and he was soon discharged, and could no longer obtain a character.

On the morning he committed the robbery he had wandered about St James's Park without a farthing in his pocket, extremely hungry, and without the prospect of any relief; and with a view to moving the compassion of Miss Burney he had called at Buckingham House, where he had found means to take the property, for which he expressed the deepest sorrow, and entreated the jury to be merciful.

This candid defence and humble petition had its weight with the jury, who found him guilty of "stealing to the value of thirty-nine shillings only," which did not affect his life.

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80: William Gadesby

Executed for Robbery

IN recording the execution of this culprit, a Scotch newspaper says "he was one of the most notorious villains that has figured in the line of roguery in this country for many years; and, though only twenty-eight years of age, his criminal exploits appear, both in variety and number, to equal, if not exceed, the achievements of the most dexterous and greyheaded offender."

As this fellow lived, so he determined to die― with notoriety.

He was brought to the gallows at Edinburgh, February the 20th, 1791, dressed in a suit of white cloth, trimmed with black. The awful ceremony, the dreadful apparatus of death, the surrounding multitude of spectators, appeared not to shake his frame, nor to agitate his mind. He mounted the platform of death with a firm step, and stood with great composure till the apparatus was adjusted; and then, in a collected manner, and in an audible voice, gave a brief account of his life.

He said that the first robbery he committed was in a stationer's shop, where he purloined a pocket-book. The success of this childish theft encouraged him to commit others: and in a short time he gave himself wholly up to thieving, never letting an opportunity slip of possessing himself of money or goods, by fraud or force, until the day he was committed to gaol. He said that he often escaped in hackney-chairs, and advised the officer on guard at the Castle to search all such vehicles.

He declared most solemnly that three miserable men, who had been executed two years ago at the place where he then stood, of the names of Falconer, Bruce, and Dick, were innocent, for that he himself had committed the robberies for which they were condemned!

With exultation he continued― that the sums he had acquired by thieving and cheating did not amount to less than two thousand pounds, besides the fortune of the unhappy woman, whom he seduced and ruined. It was high time to stop the monster's speech, and the platform was therefore dropped, while yet he was exulting in his sins!

"Scotland," says the paper from which we extract this unparalleled case, "seems to be in an improved state: the following ingenious contrivance was lately practised at Glasgow:― While a merchant in King Street was counting some money and bank-notes on a counter, a staff or small rod, overlaid with birdlime, was suddenly thrust in at the door, which having touched the notes, two of them were thereby carried off; and, before the merchant could pursue, the ingenious actor had made his escape."

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81: Bartholomew Quailn

Executed, after a great Legal Argument, On 7th of March, 1791, in the Isle of Ely, for the Murder of his Wife.

IN the case of this unfortunate man the judges were called upon to decide whether he had murdered his wife by kicking her, or whether her death was occasioned only after "reasonable chastisement," which he had inflicted upon her.

Bartholomew Quailn, a poor labouring man, was tried at the assizes for the Isle of Ely for the wilful murder of his wife; but on the Court doubting whether the affair was murder or manslaughter the jury found a special verdict, which, being removed certiorari, was now argued, in the presence of the prisoner, by Mr Plumtree for the Crown, and Mr Wilson for the unhappy man at the bar.

The facts were principally these. The prisoner, with his infant child on one arm, and a coarse bag on the other, followed his wife out of a public-house in the parish of Hadgrane, in the county of Cambridge. Soon afterwards his wife was seen lying on the road, quarrelling with her husband, who stood near her, because he would not give her the bag which he held in his left hand. High words passed between them; and, upon some provoking expressions being made use of by the wife, the prisoner ran up to her and kicked her violently as she lay on the ground. She got up and endeavoured to run away from him, but he ran after her, and on his overtaking her she again fell to the ground, when he again kicked her with great violence. She rose again, and endeavoured to make her escape, but he again followed her, and on her falling down he kicked her violently as before.

While she lay on the ground a person called to him and asked him how he could treat his wife so barbarously. To which he replied that he would serve her in the same manner. The deceased rose again from the ground, and endeavoured to get from him, but he followed her, threw her down, and gave her several violent kicks, upon which she clapped her hand to her side and exclaimed,

"Oh, Bat, now you have done for me!" or "Now you have killed me," or some words to that effect; and soon after she expired.

The prisoner showed great grief and concern for her death. The jurors found that she had not given him any other provocation; that her spleen had been burst by the kicks she so received; and that the said bursting of the spleen had been the cause of her death.

Mr Plumtree, after an elegant exordium, entered into the definition of murder as laid down by Hawkins and Hale; described the two kinds of malice in fact and in law, or, as they are more generally called, malice express and malice implied; and contended that, from the circumstances of this case, the Court must imply that the prisoner was impelled by that malice which, according to the words of Mr Justice Forster, showed "his heart to be regardless of social duty, and his mind deliberately bent upon mischief."

Mr Wilson, for the prisoner, raised two objections in point of form, which, however, were overruled by the Court.

The judges gave their opinions seriatim, and were clear and unanimous that the facts as stated on the special verdict amounted o the crime of murder. They relied upon the doctrine laid down by Mr Justice Forster that "in every charge of murder, the fact of killing being first proved, all the circumstances of accident, necessity or infirmity are to be satisfactorily proved by the prisoner, unless they arise out of the evidence produced against him; for the law presumes the fact to be founded on malice until the contrary appears"; that upon the present occasion there was no one fact of provocation stated on the verdict that could induce the prisoner to kick his wife in so violent a manner, for, so far from her making any resistance, it appeared she endeavoured all she could to get away from him. Chastisement, wherever that right exists, must be done in a reasonable manner; but where it is exercised in so violent a manner as in the present case it shows the heart to be regardless of social duty, and deliberately bent on mischief.

This case was like the case of the park-keeper who tied a boy to a horse's tail and then struck the boy, which occasioned the horse to run away, by which the boy was killed. Death, perhaps, was not intended in either case, but the mode of correction in both was violent; or, as the printed report of the case called it, it was a deliberate act; from which, as death ensued, it was adjudged to be murder.

There was also a case in Kelynge, pages 64 and 65, where a woman was indicted for murdering her child; and it appeared that she had kicked her on the belly, and it was adjudged murder.

The Clerk of the Crown called upon the prisoner and, after reading the proceedings, asked him what he had to say why the Court should not pronounce on him judgment to die according to law.

Mr Justice Ashurst, putting on the black coif which is worn on these occasions, pronounced sentence of death in the most solemn and affecting manner― viz. that the prisoner should be hanged by the neck, and his body delivered to the surgeons to be dissected and anatomised.

He was executed on the 7th of March, 1791.

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82: Joseph Wood and Thomas Underwood

Two Fourteen-year-old Boys, executed at Newgate, 6th of July, 1791, for robbing another Boy

ALL the parties in this case were mere children, the malefactors being but fourteen years of age each, and the prosecutor no more than twelve!

Though of this tender age, yet were the two prisoners convicted as old and daring depredators. So often had they already been arraigned at that bar where they were condemned that the judge declared, notwithstanding their appearance (they were short, dirty, ill-visaged boys), it was necessary, for the public safety, to cut them off, in order that other boys might learn that, inured to wickedness, their tender age would not save them from an ignominious fate.

The crime for which they suffered was committed with every circumstance of barbarity. They forcibly took away a bundle, containing a jacket, shirt and waistcoat, from a little boy, then fell upon him, and would probably have murdered him had they not been secured. They had long belonged to a most desperate gang of pickpockets and footpads; but they were so hardened and obstinate that they would not impeach their companions, though the hopes of mercy were held out to them if they would make a confession, so that the villains might have been apprehended.

They were executed at Newgate, the 6th of July, 1791, apparently insensible of their dreadful situation.

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1792

83: Nathaniel Lilley, James Martin, Mary Briant, William Allen, And John Butcher

Convicted of Returning from Transportation

THESE convicts effected their escape from Botany Bay under the following extraordinary circumstances:―

A Dutch schooner, commanded by Captain Smyth, took a supply of provisions to the settlement of Sydney Cove. A convict, named Briant, and who was married to the prisoner Mary Briant, persuaded Captain Smyth to let him have his six-oared boat, with an old lug-sail, a quadrant, and compass, for which he paid him what money he had, and some he collected among those to whom he intrusted his design; for the convicts having little use for the money with which their friends had supplied them, on sailing from this country, had most of it by them.

Captain Smyth gave him one hundred pounds of rice, and fourteen pounds of pork; they purchased of a convict, who was baker to the colony, one hundred pounds of flour, at the rate of two shillings and sixpence, and one shilling and sixpence per pound, which, with ten gallons of water, was all the provisions they took on board; and, at ten at night, on the 28th of March, 1791, William Briant, with his wife and two children, the one three years and the other one year old, the three other prisoners, Samuel Briant, James Cox, and William Martin, embarked in this open boat to sail to the island of Timor, which, by the nearest run, is upward of one thousand three hundred miles from the place of their embarkation; but, by the course they were forced to take, it was impossible for them to form an idea what distance they might have to run, or what dangers, independent of those of the sea, they might have to encounter; added to this, the monsoon had just set in, and the wind was contrary.

Under these circumstances they rather choose to risk their lives on the sea, than drag out a miserable existence on an inhospitable shore. They were forced to keep along the coast, as much as they could, for the convenience of procuring supplies of fresh water; and on these occasions, and when the weather was extremely tempestuous, they would sometimes sleep on shore, hauling their boat on the land. The savage natives, wherever they put on shore, came down, in numbers, to murder them. They now found two old muskets, and a small quantity of powder, which Captain Smyth had given them, particularly serviceable, by firing over the heads of these multitudes, on which they ran off with great precipitation; but, they were always forced to keep a strict watch. In lat. 26 degrees 27 minutes they discovered a small uninhabited island: here was plenty of turtles, that proved a great relief to them; but they were very near being lost in landing. On  this island they dried as much turtle as they could carry, which lasted them ten days.

During the first five weeks of their voyage they had continual rains; and being obliged to throw overboard their wearing apparel, &c. were for that time continually wet. They were once eight days out of sight of land, and after surmounting infinite hardships and dangers, they landed, on the 5th of June, 1791, at Cupang, on the island of Timor, where the Dutch have a settlement; having sailed considerably more than five thousand miles, and been ten weeks all but one day in performing this voyage. At Cupang they informed the governor, that they had belonged to an English ship, which was wrecked on her passage to New South Wales. The governor treated them with great humanity, but at length overheard a conversation among them, by which he discovered that they were convicts, who had escaped from the colony in New South Wales.

On the 29th of August, 1791, the Pandora, of twenty guns, Captain Edwards, was wrecked on a reef of rocks near New South Wales. The captain, and those of the crew who were saved, got to Cupang in their boats, when the governor gave the captain an account of the eleven persons he had there, and of the conversations he had overheard.

The captain took them with him to Batavia, where William Briant and his eldest child died. The rest were put on board a Dutch ship, in which Captain Edwards sailed with them, for the Cape of Good Hope. On their passage to the Cape, James Cox fell overboard and was drowned, and Samuel Bird and William Martin died. At the Cape, Captain Edwards delivered the survivors to Captain Parker, of the Gorgon, and they sailed with him for England. In their passage home, the younger child of Mary Briant died.

Their trial took place, at the Old Bailey, on the 8th of July, 1792, when the Court ordered then to remain on their former sentence, until they should be discharged by the course of law. This lenient treatment was in consequence of the great suffering they had endured, the full punishment for such an offence being death.

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84: Joseph Lorrison

Known among Thieves as "Jumping Joe." Executed on Kennington Common, 8th of August, 1792, for Robbery on the Highway

JOSEPH LORRISON was an old offender. He was particularly dexterous in robbing wagons, which, while the driver was guiding his team, he would quickly jump into and hand out whatever packages he could lay his hands on, and give them to his confederates, who were always in readiness to receive them.

He was tried for different species of robbery, and finally for assaulting and robbing Mr James Dixon, on the highway, of his watch and money. When apprehended he was dressed in a smock-frock, and the prosecutor could not then swear to him; but when he put on a coat which was found in his room he then swore positively that he was the man who robbed him. He was found guilty at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to death.

Before and after conviction, however, he in the most solemn manner denied his guilt.

He was born in the county of Surrey, and resided for several years in the borough of Southwark, where he was long known as a most daring and atrocious depredator on the public. He was once tried for the murder of a watchman, and though acquitted, from the evidence not being sufficient, was in general supposed to be guilty. He obtained the appellation of "Jumping Joe" from his dexterity in jumping into carts, wagons, etc., in order to rob them. He was executed on Kennington Common, on the 8th of August, 1792.

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1793

85: The Rev. Richard Burgh, John Cummings, Esq., Captain in the Army, Townley M'can, Esq., Student of Law, James Davis and John Bourne

Convicted of a Conspiracy to set fire to the King's Bench Prison, February, 1793

ON the trial of these conspirators the Attorney-General said he flattered himself it would be found that he had done no more than his duty in bringing the several defendants before the Court. The offence with which they were charged was of the utmost importance to the peace and safety of the capital, for it not only had for its object the demolition of the King's Bench Prison, but involved the burning of other houses, bloodshed and murder.

He lamented that five persons, all of education and respectable families, should, by their folly and imprudence, to call it by the softest name, bring themselves into such an unfortunate situation. One was a reverend divine, another an officer in the army, another had been in the profession of the law, and the others were of respectable parents, and with fair prospects of being honourable and useful members of the community.

The Attorney-General further said that this case was pregnant with the most alarming circumstances, which would be better detailed by the witnesses than described by him.

The prisoner Burgh was private chaplain to the Duke of Leinster, and a relation to a Speaker of the Irish House of Commons.

The first witness was Mr Justice Buller's clerk, who produced a record to prove that the prisoner Burgh was lawfully confined in the King's Bench Prison for debt.

Evidence was produced to prove that the other prisoners were also confined in the same prison for debt.

Edward Webb said he knew all the prisoners. About the beginning of May he was introduced into a society called "The Convivials" held in a room in the King's Bench Prison, of which the prisoners were members.

M'Can expressed himself very freely upon the subject of Lord Rawdon's Bill, then pending, respecting insolvent debtors, and said if that Bill did not pass into a law he and others were determined to do something to liberate themselves; that there was a scheme in agitation for that purpose, but that the parties were sworn to secrecy, and therefore he could not divulge it. The witness said he might safely communicate the business to him. The prisoners Cummings and Davis were present at the time.

M'Can afterwards opened the business to the witness. He said the plan in which he and the other prisoners were concerned was to effect their own enlargement by demolishing the walls of the prison, as they were determined not to be confined within those walls for debt. The execution of this plan would, however, depend upon the rejection of Lord Rawdon's Bill. After they had effected their escape, by setting fire to the prison, they would then go to the Fleet Prison and liberate the prisoners; after which they would proceed to the houses of Lords Thurlow and Kenyon, which they would destroy.

Davis said he would not hesitate to blow out the brains of those noble Lords. The witness saw the other defendants, who conversed upon the subject, and it was proposed to procure some sailors to assist them. This scheme was, however, defeated by the vigilance of the marshal, who sent for the guards, and had the prison searched throughout.

Shortly afterwards the witness saw M'Can, Cummings and Davis again, who said that, though they were defeated in the former scheme, they were determined to put some other plot into execution. The next day Cummings (who was called the Captain) said to the witness: " I have discovered the best plan that could be conceived for blowing up these d--d walls. I'll show you the place."

He then took the witness to the end of the bakehouse and pointed out to him a place where the drain had been opened. Then he described the force necessary to blow up the walls, and said he had studied the scheme upon his pillow, and that it would be necessary to have a box about ten inches wide and as many deep, and described the tubes that were to convey the fire to the box, which he said must contain about fifty pounds' weight of gunpowder, and requested the witness would get it made. In the evening of the same day the witness saw M'Can and Davis come out of the coffee-room, and, alluding to the plot, they said it was a glorious plan, and they would support it to the loss of their lives. They said no other person should be privy to it, excepting Mr Bourne, who was concerned in the former scheme, and who had got a large quantity of gunpowder ready. The witness observed to them that the neighbouring bakehouse and coffee-room would be in danger, and that poor Martin, who had a large family, would be killed. They replied that it did not matter if they or a dozen more were killed, provided it procured the prisoners' freedom.

A day or two afterwards, when the witness was walking on the parade with Cummings, M'Can and Bourne, he asked if Mr Bourne knew of the plot; they said he did. Bourne said they should have the powder, and that Mrs Bourne should bring it to the witness's house in small quantities. M'Can then proposed that, in order to raise money to purchase the gunpowder, a motion should be made in the club of Convivials for a subscription of five shillings each, under pretence of feeing counsel to know whether the marshal had a right to enter his prisoners' apartments when he pleased. This proposal was agreed to, and the motion was accordingly made.

After several other consultations, at which all the prisoners were present, it was agreed that the gunpowder should be deposited in a hole in the floor of Burgh's room -- where it was afterwards found.

It was also agreed that, on the day the plot was to be carried into execution, M'Can and Bourne were to have a sham fencing match for a great deal of money. This was so as to collect together all the prisoners at the time the gunpowder was set fire to, and thereby afford them a chance of making their escape.

At length the day was fixed for a Sunday, about seven o'clock in the evening, being a time at which a number of strangers were likely to be in the prison.

Cummings had the sole management of this plot. Burgh said that the noise and confusion it would create would, he hoped, bring about a revolution in this country.

H. T. Hendacre confirmed the substance of the evidence of the last witness, as did Mr Battersley. These witnesses stated, by way of addition, that Davis gave half-a-guinea to purchase some gunpowder; that the prisoners carried on a correspondence with a society in the borough of Southwark; that Mr Dundas's house was one that was fixed on for destruction; that the prisoners had two schemes in contemplation to effect their escape -- the one was to tie down all the turnkeys, the other the gunpowder plot in question, of which Cummings had the sole conduct, he being considered the engineer.

Lord Kenyon summed up the whole of the evidence in the most able and impartial manner; after which the jury found all the prisoners guilty.

On Tuesday, 12th of February, 1793, the prisoners were brought to receive judgment of the Court.

The prisoner Cummings produced a petition, in which he stated that he had been for several years an officer in his Majesty's service, and had then two sons in the army, who, in consequence of the calamitous situation of the prisoner, were deprived of the education and support necessary to their station and rank. He stated several other circumstances in mitigation of punishment.

The prisoner Townley M'Can produced an affidavit, in which he stated that he was a student of law, and had formed an opinion from several writers that imprisonment for debt was illegal; he disclaimed any criminal intention, and positively denied that he or his fellow-prisoners had carried on a correspondence with the Revolution Society in the Borough, or ever had a design to kill the two great law lords― as alleged by a witness at the trial. The prisoners were severally sentenced to three years' imprisonment, but in different prisons.

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86: The Rev. Mr Jackson

Convicted of Treason, in Dublin, 23rd of April, 1793, but who died of Poison at the Bar of the Court, at the Moment Death would have been pronounced upon him

THE Rev. Mr Jackson was a native of Ireland, and a minister of the Church of England. Early in life he was a preacher at Tavistock Chapel, and resided for several years in chambers in London.

The emoluments of his clerical occupation not affording him a sufficient subsistence, he applied his talents to literature, and was for a considerable time editor of a newspaper, in which situation he made himself very conspicuous. He took a decided part in the quarrel between the Duchess of Kingston and Mr Foote, and is blamed for having treated the latter with too much asperity. He was a sharer in the romantic scheme of the Royalty Theatre, and was obliged to abscond for a considerable time on account of the pecuniary difficulties in which it involved him.

Afterwards he entered into a criminal conspiracy, and was tried at Dublin for high treason on the 23rd of April, 1795, at eleven o'clock. The indictment charged the prisoner with two species of treason -- namely, compassing the King's death, and adhering to his enemies -- and stated fourteen overt acts.

The Attorney-General opened the prosecution on the part of the Crown, and called Mr Cockayne, an attorney of London, who deposed that he had been for a series of years the law agent and intimate friend of Mr Jackson, who, a few years before, went to France (as the witness understood) to transact some private business for Mr Pitt, where he resided a considerable time. Soon after his return Mr Cockayne said he called on Jackson, who told him in confidence that he had formed a design of going to Ireland, to sound the people, for the purpose of procuring a supply of provisions, etc., from them for the French, and requested him (the witness) to accompany him. Having accepted the invitation, witness immediately waited on Mr Pitt, and discovered to him the whole of Mr Jackson's plans. The Minister thanked him for the information, and hinted that, as the matter was to become a subject of legal investigation, it would be necessary for him to substantiate the allegations; but this Mr Cockayne wished to decline, on the principle that if the prisoner were convicted of high treason he should lose by it three hundred pounds, in which sum he then was indebted to him. This objection was soon removed by Mr Pitt agreeing to pay him the money, provided he would prosecute to conviction; and the witness accompanied Mr Jackson to Ireland for the purpose of making himself acquainted with his proceedings.

Shortly after their arrival in Dublin, where they lived together, the prisoner expressed a wish to be introduced to Mr Hamilton Rowan, who was then confined in Newgate; and at length, through the interference of a friend, he obtained an interview, at which Mr Cockayne was present. In the course of conversation the prisoner delivered two papers to Mr Rowan, for the purpose of convincing him that he was a person in whom he might confide. From that time an intimacy took place between them; the witness always accompanied Mr Jackson on his visits to Mr Rowan, and constantly took a part in their conversation.

They agreed, he said, that a person should be sent to France to procure a force to make a descent on Ireland, and Counsellor Wolfe Tone was mentioned as a fit person for that purpose, who at first appeared to acquiesce, but afterwards declined the office. Dr Reynolds was then proposed by Mr Rowan, but objected to by the prisoner, as he did not understand the French language. It was, however, at length agreed that the Doctor should take the embassy; but in a short time he also refused to enter into the business. On this it was agreed that Mr Jackson should write several letters, which were directed to a Mr Stone, of the firm of Lawrence & Co., London. These contained enclosures for houses at Hamburg and Amsterdam; and some of them, to the French agents, described the situation of Ireland at the time, invited an invasion, and pointed out the proper places to land. These letters being sent to the post office, the witness then went to the secretary and informed him of the subject of them, on which they were detained. The plot matured thus far; having been discovered, the prisoner was taken into custody.

The jury found him guilty; but on his being brought into court to receive judgment it was intimated to the Court that the prisoner appeared to be in a very dangerous situation, in point of bodily weakness, having for some time -- even from his first being brought into court -- appeared to be uncommonly agitated. Dr Waite, who was in the county jury-box, went down to the dock, and, after examining the prisoner, reported that he was in a sinking situation, and had every appearance of immediate dissolution. Mr Kingsley, druggist, who said he had been bred an apothecary, also examined the prisoner, and reported that he was dying. On this the Court ordered that the prisoner should be remanded until further orders; but in a few moments the unfortunate man expired in the dock.

The Court immediately adjourned. The coroner's inquest was held the next day, when Surgeons Hume and Adrian opened the body, and deposed he died in consequence of having taken some acrid substance, but what they could not tell.

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87: Laurence Jones

A Notorious Swindler, sentenced to Death in 1793, but who hanged himself Three Days before the Date of his Execution

LAURENCE JONES was born in London, and early in life

became a swindler. Having a considerable sum of money left him by a relation, he took a very handsome house in St James's, which he elegantly furnished, and kept his carriage and servants, who, by the by, were accomplices to carry on the deception, which he did with great success for some months.

During his abode in this place he defrauded Mr Hudson, a silversmith, of plate to the value of nearly three thousand pounds; Mr Kempton, a mercer, of silks and other goods to a large amount; and Mr Bailey, a watchmaker and jeweller, of a gold repeater, etc., etc., to the value of three hundred pounds. The time for payment being almost up, and suspicion being entertained of his pretensions to property, he thought it time to decamp, and he managed just in time to escape a warrant out against him.

After this he lived privately for some time, that suspicion might die away before he again began his fraudulent practices, which he carried on with his usual success, till he failed in an affair in Hatton Garden, for which he was condemned.

Mr Campbell was the collecting clerk to Vere, Lucadou & Co., bankers, in Lombard Street, and in the course of his business he called at a house (which was hired for the express purpose of preying upon the unwary) for the payment of a bill -- a scheme concerted before by the villains. No sooner had he knocked at the door than it was opened by a person, in appearance a gentleman, who desired him to walk into the counting-house; when he did so, a man came behind him and covered his head and face over with a thick cap, so that he could see nothing. They then threw him on the floor and wrapped him up in green baize, in which condition they bound him hand and foot and carried him downstairs, when they proceeded to rob him. They took from him his pocket-book, with bank-notes and bills to the amount of nine hundred pounds. They then took measures to prevent a discovery before they should receive the money for the bills, etc., with which one of the gang immediately went out to turn them into cash, while the rest, in the meantime, handled the unfortunate young man in the following manner.

They first laid him flat on his back on a board and chained him hand and foot, and then carried him downstairs into a back kitchen, where they chained him to the bars of a copper grate, threatening that if he made a noise they would blow his brains out. They then left him, after placing before him some bread, some ham and some water. In this condition he remained for about eight hours, when his cries were heard by a man who was at work in a house behind that in which Mr Campbell was confined. It was not long before he was set at liberty and restored to his friends, to their great joy, and the infinite satisfaction of his employers.

Jones was apprehended by Jealous and Kennedy, officers of Bow Street, at the King's Arms, in Bridge Street, Westminster.

Being committed to Newgate, he was afterwards tried, and found guilty, when he received sentence, and was ordered for execution on Wednesday, the 8th of December, 1793, in Hatton Garden, near the house where he committed the robbery; but on the Saturday previous thereto, about six o'clock in the morning, when the turnkey entered the cell to prepare him to hear the condemned sermon and receive the Sacrament, he found him dead. It appears that he had made several attempts on his life before, but was prevented, and the manner in which he at last accomplished this worst of all crimes was very extraordinary. He had taken the knee-strings with which his fetters were supported and tied them round his neck, then, tying the other end to the ring which his chain was fastened to, he placed his feet against the wall and strangled himself. The coroner's jury pronounced a verdict of felo-de-se.

In consequence of the above verdict the body was carried out of Newgate extended upon a plank, on the top of an open cart, in his clothes, and fettered, and his face covered with a white cloth, to the brow of Holborn Hill, directly opposite to the end of Hatton Garden. The procession was attended by the sheriffs, city marshals and nearly five hundred constables.

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88: Elizabeth Marsh

A Fifteen-year-old Girl, executed for the Murder of her Grandfather, March, 1794

AT Dorchester Assizes, March, 1794, Elizabeth Marsh, a girl only fifteen years of age, was convicted of the murder of her grandfather, John Nevil, at Modern, was condemned, and ordered to be executed forty-eight hours after.

This girl lived with her grandfather, and, with the most deliberate malice, deprived the old man (who was seventy years of age) of his life, by giving him two dreadful blows on the head while he was asleep. This unhappy wretch was bred in such extreme ignorance that she declared she had been wholly unacquainted with the difference between good and evil, heaven and hell. She was executed according to her sentence.

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89: Henry Goodiff

A Boy condemned to Death for robbing a Pieman, who had swindled him on Hounslow Heath, of a few Halfpence, March, 1794

THE particulars of this youth's offence were simply these: he had been reprimanded by his parents for some boyish indiscretion, and, like many more headstrong sons, left his paternal roof, rambling he knew not whither, when, upon Hounslow Heath, he met one of those knavish pastry pedlars who cheat boys and girls and ignorant country clowns, in pretending to toss up for his penny pies.

Poor Goodiff thought fortune might enable him to fill his empty stomach at an easy rate, and therefore staked his all― a few pence― with the pieman; but, alas! he lost his fortune without even touching one of the savoury bits on which Hunger had fixed her mark.

Stung with disappointment he attacked the pieman, and forcibly took away from him the miserable pittance of which he conceived himself to have been cheated. This was, in the eye of the law, a highway robbery; and the vindictive gambler in tarts, finding the lad to be of good family, thought to extort high damages for the indignity and loss which he had received, but in seeking redress he went too far; for, applying to one of those human sharks who hover round the Old Bailey pretending to be attorneys-at-law, he laid the indictment for a capital offence, from which no interest could rescue his prisoner from a disgraceful conviction, and subject to an ignominious death.

For this offence the unfortunate boy was actually convicted, at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to die, in March, 1794.

On the representation of this case to the Privy Council his Majesty's pardon was granted, on condition the boy served him in the navy.

The youth disdainfully refused the proffered mercy, and insisted on undergoing his sentence; but his afflicted parents persuaded him to the contrary, and he was conducted from Newgate to the tender which lay at anchor in the Thames, near the Tower, for the purpose of receiving impressed men.

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90: Anne Broadric

Indicted for murdering a Man who had jilted her for another Woman, 17th of July, 1794

THE case of this unfortunate young woman excited universal pity at the time of its occurrence.

It appeared that Mr Errington, the object of her attack, was a gentleman of large landed and personal property, residing at Grays, in Essex, and his name had become well known from the circumstance of his having been divorced from his wife a few years before the melancholy event which we are about to relate.

About three years after the termination of the proceedings in the ecclesiastical courts he became acquainted with Miss Broadric, who was a young lady possessed of considerable accomplishments, of a fine figure, and personal charms. Miss Broadric before this had lived with a Captain Robinson, but it appears that, being addressed by Mr Errington with great solicitude, she consented to reside with him in the character of his wife. A mutual attachment sprang up in the course of their connection; but after a lapse of three years, during which they lived together with every appearance of domestic felicity, Mr Errington bestowed his affections and his hand on a lady of respectability in the neighbourhood, acquainting Miss Broadric that he could see her no more. On her quitting him he made what he conceived to be a suitable provision for her future wants, and she retired, apparently deeply grieved at the unfortunate change which had taken place in the feelings of her late protector. On the 11th of April, 1794, she wrote a letter to him in the following terms:--

DEAR ERRINGTON,

That you have betrayed and abandoned the most tender and affectionate heart that ever warmed a human bosom cannot be denied by any person who is in the least acquainted with me. Wretched and miserable as I have been since you left me, there is still a method remaining that would suspend, for a time, the melancholy sufferings and distress which I labour under at this moment; and still, inhuman as thou art, I am half persuaded, when I tell you the power is in your hands, that you will not withhold it from me. What I allude to is the permission of seeing you once more, and, perhaps, for the last time. If you consider that the request comes from a woman you once flattered into a belief of her being the sole possessor of your love, you may not perhaps think it unreasonable. Recollect, however, Errington, ere you send a refusal, that the roaring of the tempest and the lightnings from heaven are not more terrible than the rage and vengeance of a disappointed woman. Hitherto you can only answer for the weakness and frailty of my nature. There is a further knowledge of my disposition you must have if you do not grant me the favour demanded. I wish it to come voluntarily from yourself, or else I will force it from you. Believe me, in that case, I would seek you in the farthest corner of the globe, rush into your presence, and, with the same rapture that nerved the arm of Charlotte Corday, when she assassinated the monster Marat, would I put an end to the existence of a man who is the author of all the agonies and care that at present oppress the heart of

ANNE BROADRIC.

P.S.-This comes by William (the servant you have discarded on my account), who has orders to wait for your answer.

Her request being refused, she persisted, by letters, to endeavour to induce Mr Errington to permit her once more to see him, but finding him inexorable she wrote to him that if nothing could induce him to do her an act of justice he must prepare himself for the fatal alternative, as she was determined that he should not long survive his infidelity.

To this, as well as to the rest of her letters, Mr Errington preserved a strict silence, and, about a month after, Miss Broadric carried out her dreadful resolution. On Friday morning, the 15th of May, she dressed herself elegantly, and, going to the Three Nuns Inn, Whitechapel, she took her place in the Southend coach, which passed close to Mr Errington's seat. She descended at the avenue gate and went towards the house, but being seen by Mr Errington, he begged Mrs Errington to retire for a few minutes saying that his tormentor was coming, but that he would soon get rid of her. The latter, however, desired him to leave the interview to her management, and requested her husband to go into the drawing-room while she awaited the arrival of Miss Broadric in the parlour. In the meantime the latter had entered the house by the kitchen, and, having learned from the footman that Mr Errington was at home, she was proceeding upstairs, attended by the gardener, when she met Mrs Errington.

She demanded to see Mr Errington, but was told that he was not to be seen. Saying, "I am not to be so satisfied; I know the ways of this house too well, and will search for him," she rushed upstairs into the drawing-room. She there found the object of her inquiry and, going up to him, she suddenly drew from her pocket a small brass-barrelled pistol, with a new hagged flint, and presenting it to his left side, in a direction towards his heart, exclaimed: "Errington, I am come to perform my dreadful promise." Then she immediately fired. Mrs Errington, who had followed her, fainted, but Miss Broadric, observing that Mr Errington did not fall, said she feared she had not dispatched him. Mr Errington demanded to know how he had deserved such treatment at her hands, but she made no answer; the servants, alarmed by the report of the pistol, then came into the room, when she threw the pistol on the carpet, and exclaimed, laughing: "Here, take me; hang me; do what you like with me; I do not care now."

Mr Miller, a surgeon, soon after attended, and found that the ball had penetrated the lowest rib, had cut three ribs asunder, and then passed round the back and lodged under the shoulder bone, from whence every effort was made to extract it, but in vain. Mr Button, a magistrate, now came, who took the examination of Mr Errington after his wound was dressed. He asked Miss Broadric what could have induced her to commit such an act of extreme violence, and her answer was that she was determined that neither Mr Errington nor herself should long outlive her lost peace of mind. Mr Errington entreated the magistrate not to detain her in custody, but let her depart, as he was sure he should do well; but this request Miss Broadric refused to accept, and the magistrate to grant. Her commitment being made out, she was conveyed that evening to Chelmsford Jail, where she remained tolerably composed till she heard of Mr Errington's death, when she burst into a flood of tears, and lamented bitterly that she had been its cause. The coroner's inquest sat on the body on Tuesday, the 19th of May, and brought in their verdict, "Wilful murder, by the hands of Anne Broadric." Mr Errington was in the thirty-ninth year of his age.

Friday, the 17th of July, was fixed for the trial of the prisoner, and at six o'clock in the morning the prisoner was conveyed from the jail, in a chaise, to a room in the shire hall; and about ten minutes before Lord Chief Baron Macdonald, the sheriffs and magistrates appeared on the bench she was conveyed into the bail dock in the Criminal Court, attended by three ladies and her apothecary. She was dressed in mourning, without powder; and after the first perturbations were over, occasioned by the concourse of surrounding spectators, she sat down on a chair prepared for her, and was tolerably composed, except at intervals, when she discovered violent agitations, as her mind became affected by various objects and circumstances. While the indictment was being read she paid marked attention to it and on the words, that on the right breast of the said G. Errington she did wilfully and feloniously inflict one mortal wound, etc., she exclaimed, "Oh, my great God!" and burst into a torrent of tears.

The facts above stated having been proved in evidence, the prisoner's counsel proceeded to call witnesses in support of her defence, who all joined in stating that they had known her repeatedly to exhibit symptoms of insanity.

This defence was not traversed by the counsel on the other side, and the jury, after a few minutes' consideration, returned a verdict of not guilty.

The judges, on leaving the town, after the assizes were over, directed that Miss Broadric should be examined before two magistrates, that she might be safely removed, under their order, to the place of her settlement; with a particular recommendation annexed thereto that she might be taken all possible care of.

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1795

91: Lewis Jeremiah Avershaw

Executed on Kennington Common, 3rd of August, 1795, for shooting a Peace Offcer in the act of apprehending him

THE subject of this brief memoir was one of the most fierce, depraved, and infamous of the human race. From early life he exhibited in his disposition a combination of the worst feelings of our nature, which, as the period of manhood approached, settled into a sort of prerogative of plunder and depredation, by which he seemed to consider himself as entitled to prey on the property, and sport with the lives, of his fellow creatures, with the most heartless impunity.

He attached himself to gangs of the most notorious thieves and impostors, over whom, by a kind of supererogatory talent for all sorts of villainy, he very soon acquired unlimited influence and command, and by whose aid he committed such numerous and daring acts of highway-robbery, house-breaking, and plunder, as made him the dread and terror of the metropolis and its vicinity.

Kennington Common, Hounslow Heath, Bagshot Heath, and indeed all the commons and roads for several miles round London, were the scenes of the predatory depredations of Avershaw and his associates; and such a degree of tenor had his repeated acts of robbery and brutality inspired, that the post-boys, coachmen, and all whose duty compelled them frequently to travel over the theatre of his exploits, trembled at his name and dreaded his visitation.

Although the peculiar features of the criminal laws of our country for a long time operated to the impunity of this abandoned ruffian and desperado, the cup of his iniquities was gradually filling, and he at length fell under the weighty hand of outraged justice; but not till, unhappily, he had added a new act of murder to the long and black catalogue of his unatoned crimes: and it is lamentable to record that so base, so villainous, and so bloody a being, should have found creatures, bearing the form and name of men, so entirely forgetful of their duties to society and to God, as not only to become the admirers and apologists of what they misnamed the valour of Avershaw, but who absolutely affected to trace something prophetic in the fiendlike declarations he had too often made, that "he would murder the first who attempted to deliver him into the hands of justice," because, in the spirit of his diabolical declarations, he did actually shed the blood of a fellow- creature, who, in the performance of his duty as a police-officer, essayed the arrest of this most notorious of culprits.

At length he was brought to trial before Mr Baron Perryn, at Croydon, in the county of Surrey, on the 30th of July, 1795. On his way to Croydon to take his trial, the cavalcade passed over Kennington Common, and on its arriving on the spot where the executions at that time took place, Avershaw put his head out of the coach window, and in the peculiar flash style which be ever exhibited, asked the officers attending whether they "did not think that he should be TWISTED on that pretty spot by the next Saturday?"

He was charged on two indictments: one for having, at the Three Brewers public-house, Southwark, feloniously shot at and murdered D. Price, an officer belonging to the police office held at Union Hall, in the Borough; the other for having, at the same time and place, fired a pistol at Bernard Turner, another officer attached to the office at Union Hall, with an intent to murder him.

Mr Garrow, the leading counsel for the prosecution, opened his case to the Court and jury by stating that the prisoner at the bar, being a person of ill fame, had been suspected of having perpetrated a number of felonies. A warrant had been issued for his arrest by the Southwark magistrates, and D. Price, and B. Turner, officers belonging to Union Hall, were intrusted with its execution. Having received information that he was smoking and drinking in a public house in Southwark called the Three Brewers, at that time notorious as the resort of thieves and vagabonds, they repaired thither, and found their information to be correct; but they also found that the object of their search was fully prepared to put in execution his diabolical threats. On their approach he placed himself at the entrance to the parlour with a loaded pistol in each hand, vowing the instant death of any one who should attempt to take him. The officers, more valiant than prudent, rushed forward, expecting to throw him off his guard by the suddenness and vigour of their attack; in this, however, they were unhappily deceived― the ruffian discharged both the weapons at the same moment, by one of which Turner was severely wounded in the head, while the fatal contents of the other lodged in the body of the unfortunate Price, who languished a few hours in great agony and then died.

The jury, after a consultation of about three minutes, pronounced the verdict of guilty. Through a flaw in the indictment for the murder an objection was taken by counsel. This was urged nearly two hours, when Mr Baron Perryn intimated a wish to take the opinion of the twelve judges of England, but the counsel for the prosecution, waiving the point for the present, insisted on the prisoner's being tried on the second indictment, for feloniously shooting at Barnaby Windsor, which, the learned counsel said, would occupy no great portion of time, as it could be sufficiently supported by the testimony of a single witness. He was accordingly tried, and found guilty on a second capital indictment: The prisoner, who, contrary to general expectation, had in a great measure hitherto refrained from his usual audacity, began, with unparalleled insolence of expression and gesture, to ask his Lordship if he was to be murdered by the evidence of one witness. Several times he repeated the question, till the jury returned him guilty.

When the judge appeared in the black cap, the emblem assumed at the time of passing sentence on convicted felons, Avershaw, with the most unbridled insolence and bravado, clapped his hat upon his head, and pulled up his breeches with a vulgar swagger; and during the whole of the ceremony, which deeply affected all present except the senseless object himself, he stared full in the face of the judge with a malicious sneer and affected contempt, and continued this conduct till he was taken, bound hand and foot, from the dock, venting curses and insults on the judge and jury for having consigned him to "murder."

This brutal conduct continued to the last. In the interval between receiving sentence of death and the execution, having got some black cherries, he amused himself with painting on the white walls of the cell in which he was confined, sketches of various robberies which he had committed; one representing him running up to the horses' heads of a post-chaise, presenting a pistol at the driver, with the words, D―n your eyes, stop," issuing out of his mouth; another where he was firing into the chaise; a third, where the parties had quitted the carriage; several, in which he was portrayed in the act of taking money from the passengers, and other scenes of a similar character.

He was executed on Kennington Common, on the 3rd of August, 1795, in the presence of an immense multitude of spectators, among whom he recognised many acquaintances and confederates, to whom he bowed, nodded, and laughed with the most unfeeling indifference. He had a flower in his mouth, and his waistcoat and shin were unbuttoned, leaving his bosom open in the true style of vulgar gaiety; and, talking to the mob, and venting curses on the officers, he died, as he had lived, a ruffian and a brute!

With Avershaw suffered John Little, who, having had employment at the laboratory of the palace at Kew, became acquainted with Mr Macevoy and Mrs King, persons of very advanced years, and who had been many years resident at Kew. Supposing they had some property at home, he watched an opportunity and murdered them both.

The infamy of Avershaw's life, and the atrocity of his deeds, rendered him a fit object for the posthumous punishment of hanging in chains on the arena of his crimes, and (painful as is the record, the truth must be told,) while the disgusting carcass of this malefactor, devoured by the birds and withered by the elements, gradually disappeared, the spot on which he had been gibbeted was converted into a temple of infamy, to which the thieves and vagabonds of London resorted in a sort of pilgrimage; and while the leading ruffians of the flash school, of which Avershaw was the child and champion, procured from his decaying and piece-meal carcass the bones of his fingers and toes to convert into stoppers for their tobacco-pipes, the tyro villains contented themselves with tearing the buttons from his clothes, as mementos of the estimation in which they held their arch prototype.

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1796

92: Kid Wake

Convicted and imprisoned for an assault upon his Majesty, on the 20th of February, 1796

IN this case the indictment charged that on the 29th of October, 1795, as the King went in the state coach to the House of Peers to meet his Parliament, Kid Wake, and a number of other disorderly persons, made a great noise, by shouting, hissing,  hooting, groaning and calling out, "No war, down with him," etc.; the same indecent behaviour was repeated on his Majesty's return, in which a window of his coach was broken.

Dr Wolford and Mr Stockdale were called on the part of the Crown, and proved the charge in the clearest manner. Mr Erskine made some observations on the defendant's character.

The Lord Chief justice said: "Gentlemen of the jury, I have nothing to sum up to you. The question is whether the law which protects every subject under the King's Government is sufficient to protect the King."

The jury returned a verdict of guilty.

When brought up to receive the judgment of the Court, Mr Justice Ashurst addressed the defendant. He said that he had been convicted, upon the clearest and most satisfactory evidence, of a crime of a most atrocious and, he was happy to say, almost of an unprecedented nature. He had experienced much mercy from those by whom he was prosecuted; for if the law had been stretched to its utmost rigour he might have stood convicted of a crime of a much higher nature. The present case afforded a very strong instance of the unequalled mildness of the laws of this country; for he believed this was the only country in the world in which, for such an offence, he would not have paid the forfeit of his life. The evidence adduced at the trial afforded the most convincing proofs that the defendant was a man of a bad and malignant heart, and the explanation which he had since attempted to give of his conduct, in the affidavits which he had filed, was by no means satisfactory. He had endeavoured to account for the contortions of his countenance by a defect in his sight, which always had the effect of producing a distortion of his features when he attempted to look particularly at any object; but if this could be supposed to account for the contortion of his countenance, it could not for the language he used, such as "no George," etc.

The sentence of the Court was that the prisoner be committed to the custody of the keeper of the penitentiary-house in and for the county of Gloucester, and be kept to hard labour for the space of five years; and within the first three months of that time that he stand in and upon the pillory for one hour, between the hours of eleven and two o'clock in the afternoon, in some public street in Gloucester, on a market-day; and that he give sureties in a thousand pounds for his good behaviour for the term of ten years, to be computed from the expiration of the said five years; and that he be further imprisoned till he find the said sureties.

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93: Richard Parker

The Chief of the Mutineers in the British Fleet. Executed at the

Yardarm of L'Espion Man-of-War in 1796, at Sheerness

THE magnitude of this man's offence, occurring at a period when the preservation of the state mainly depended on the exertions of the navy, threw the whole empire into consternation. Dissatisfaction had for some time existed, and a mutinous spirit evinced itself among the seamen, who, on this occasion, appointed delegates from all the ships at Sheerness and the Nore, and drew up a statement of grievances, dated 20th of May, 1797, requiring, among other demands, a more equal distribution of prize-money, and some modification of the articles of war. These delegates assembled on board the Sandwich, of 28 guns, and not only superseded all the captains in their command, but elected Parker president of the convention, and his orders were implicitly obeyed as admiral of the squadron.

Richard Parker had received a good education, was bred to the navy, and about the conclusion of the American War was an acting lieutenant in one of his Majesty's ships. He soon came into the possession of a considerable sum of money, and shortly after he arrived in this country and married a farmer's daughter in Aberdeenshire, with whom he received a decent patrimony.

At this time, being without employment, he devoted himself to every species of dissipation, which soon finished his fortune and involved him in debt, on account of which he was cast into the jail of Edinburgh, where he was at the time the country was raising seamen for the navy.

He then entered as one of the volunteers for Perthshire, received the bounty, and was released from prison, upon paying the creditor a part of his bounty. He was put on board the tender then in Leith Roads, which carried him, with many others, to the Nore.

On the passage the captain distinguished Parker, both by his activity and polite address. He was known in the mutinous fleet by the appellation of "Admiral Parker", for Captain Watson, of the Leith tender, before he sailed from the Nore, was ordered, by the crew of the Sandwich, to come on board, which he did, and was then introduced to, and interrogated by, Parker, whom he knew on first sight. Parker also recollected him, and from this circumstance he experienced great favour.

Parker ordered every man on board to treat Captain Watson well, saying he was a seamen's friend, and had treated him well, and that if any man used him otherwise he should instantly be --. Here he pointed to the rope at the yardarm.

Captain Watson took an opportunity of hinting to Parker the impropriety of his conduct, and the consequences that might follow. It seemed to throw a momentary damp on his spirits; but he expressed a wish to waive the subject, and Captain Watson proceeded on his voyage.

The mutiny was happily suppressed, and a considerable reward being offered for the apprehension of Parker, the accounted ringleader, on the arrival of Lieutenant Mott, with the proclamations, etc., the crews of all the ships readily submitted. Parker himself could not oppose this spirit.

In consequence of this the Sandwich came under the guns of Sheerness, and Admiral Buckner's boat, commanded by the coxswain, and containing a picket guard of the West York Militia, went on board, to bring Parker on shore. Several of the officers of the Sandwich were on deck, but very few of the men appeared. As soon as Parker heard that a boat had come for him he surrendered himself to four of the ship's crew, to protect him against the outrages of the other seamen, whose vengeance he feared.

Admiral Buckner's coxswain told the officers on deck his business, and claimed their assistance. The lieutenant drew his sword, and the party, consisting of eight or ten, went down below, where Parker was surrendered into their hands. They tied his hands together behind, and the officers conducted him into the boat, which had eight or ten rowers, and a party of the West York Militia seated in the head, with their faces towards the stern, and their muskets held upright in their hands, ready charged. Parker was seated in the stern part, with his face towards the head; behind him was the coxswain, and before him the lieutenant of the Sandwich, holding a drawn sword over him. On landing, he was much hissed, when he said aloud: "Do not hoot me; it is not my fault. I will clear myself."

He was then sent to Maidstone Jail, under a strong guard, his arms being tied behind his back. After a long trial, which commenced soon after his apprehension, he was found guilty.

After a solemn pause of nearly ten minutes the Lord Advocate rose and, with his head uncovered, read the awful sentence -- viz. "The Court judges Richard Parker to suffer death, and to be hanged by the neck, on board any one of his Majesty's ships, and at such time as the Lords of the Admiralty may think proper to appoint."

The prisoner listened to the sentence without emotion, and addressed the Court as follows:-- "I have heard your sentence; I shall submit to it without a struggle. I feel thus, because I am sensible of the rectitude of my intentions. Whatever offences may have been committed, I hope my life will be the only sacrifice. I trust it will be thought a sufficient atonement. Pardon, I beseech you, the other men; I know they will return with alacrity to their duty."

The president then briefly addressed himself to the prisoner. He said that, notwithstanding the enormity of the crimes of which he had been found guilty, on the fullest and clearest evidence, yet the Court, in order to afford him the necessary time to expiate his offcnces, and to make his peace with God, would then not name any day for his execution, but leave that point to the determination of the lords of the admiralty. The prisoner then withdrew, and was soon put in irons.

The time of his execution was fixed for Friday, the 30th of June, 1797. At eight o'clock in the morning a gun was fired on board his Majesty's ship L'Espion, lying off Sheerness garrison, Vice-Admiral Lutwidge's flagship, and the yellow flag, the signal of capital punishment, was hoisted, which was immediately repeated by the Sandwich hoisting the same colour on her foretop.

The prisoner was awakened a little after six o'clock, from a sound sleep, by the provost-marshal, who, with a file of marines, composed his guard; he arose with cheerfulness, and requested permission might be asked for a barber to attend him, which was granted. He soon dressed himself in a neat suit of mourning (waistcoat excepted), wearing his half-boots over a pair of black silk stockings. He then took his breakfast, talked of a will he had written, in which he had bequeathed to his wife a little estate he said he was heir to, and after that lamented the misfortune that had been brought on the country by the mutiny, but solemnly denied having the least connection or correspondence with any disaffected persons ashore; and declared that it was chiefly owing to him that the ships had not been carried into the enemy's ports.

At half past eight he was told the chaplain of the ship was ready to attend him to prayers upon the quarter-deck, which he immediately ascended, uncovered: at his first entrance on the deck he looked a little paler than common, but soon recovered his usual complexion; he bowed to the officers, and, a chair being allowed him, he sat down for a few moments: he then arose, and told the clergyman he wished to attend him: the chaplain informed him he had selected two psalms appropriate to his situation; to which the prisoner, assenting, said, "And with your permission, sir, I will add a third," and named the 51st. He then recited each alternate verse in a manner peculiarly impressive.

At nine o'clock the preparatory gun was fired from L'Espion, which he heard without the smallest emotion. Prayers being soon after closed, he rose, and asked Captain Moss "if he might be indulged with a glass of white wine": which being granted, he took it, and, lifting up his eyes, exclaimed, "I drink first to the salvation of my soul! and next to the forgiveness of my enemies!" Addressing him self to Captain Moss, he said, "he hoped he would shake hands with him"; which the captain did: he then desired "that he might be remembered to his companions on board the Neptune; with his last breath sent an entreaty to them to prepare for their destiny, and refrain from unbecoming levity." His arms were now bound, and the procession moved from the quarterdeck to the forecastle, passing through a double file of marines on the starboard side, to a platform erected on the cat-head, with an elevated projection. Arriving there, he knelt with the chaplain, and joined in some devout ejaculations, to all of which he repeated loudly, "Amen." Rising again, the Admiral's warrant of execution, addressed to Captain Moss, was now read by the clerk, in which the sentence of the court martial, the order of the Board of Admiralty and his Majesty's approbation of the whole proceedings were fully recited, which the prisoner heard with great attention, and bowed his head, as if in assent, at the close of it. He now asked the captain whether he might be allowed to speak, and immediately apprehending his intention might be misconceived he added: "I am not going, sir, to address the ship's company. I wish only to declare that I acknowledge the justice of the sentence under which I suffer; and I hope my death may be deemed a sufficient atonement, and save the lives of others."

He then requested a minute to collect himself, and knelt down alone, about that space of time; then rose up and said: "I am ready." Holding his head up, he said to the boatswain's mate: "Take off my handkerchief (of black silk); which was done, and the provost-marshal placed the halter over his head (which had been prepared with grease,) but, doing it awkwardly, the prisoner said rather pettishly to the boatswain's mate, "Do you do it, for he seems to know nothing about it." The halter was then spliced to the reeve-rope: all this being adjusted, the marshal attempted to put a cap on, which he refused; but, on being told that it was indispensable, he submitted, requesting it might not be pulled over his eyes till he desired it. He then turned round, for the first time, and gave a steady look at his shipmates on the forecastle, and, with an affectionate kind of smile, nodded his head, and said "Good-by to you!" He now said, "Captain Moss, is the gun primed?" -- "It is." -- "Is the match alight?" -- "All is ready."-- On this he advanced a little, and said, "Will any gentleman be so good as to lend me a white handkerchief for the signal?" After some little pause, a gentleman stepped forward and gave him one; to whom bowing, he returned thanks. He now ascended the platform, and repeated the same questions about the gun. The cap was then drawn over his face, and he walked by firm degrees up to the extremity of the scaffold, and dropped the white handkerchief, and put his hands in his coat-pockets with great rapidity. At the moment he sprang off, the fatal bow-gun fired, and the reeve-rope, catching him, ran him up, though not with great velocity, to the yardarm. When suspended about midway his body appeared extremely convulsed for a few seconds, immediately after which no appearance of life remained.

It being ebb of tide, the starboard yard-arm pointed to the Isle of Grain, where scaffolding was erected for the spectators on shore; a considerable number of yachts, cutters, and other craft, surrounded the Sandwich. The last time the prisoner knelt with the chaplain at the cat-head, though he made his responses regularly, his attention was particularly directed the whole time to the armed boats of the fleet, which were plying round on duty. The whole conduct of this awful ceremony was extremely decorous and impressive; it was evident, from the countenances of the crew of the Sandwich, that the general feeling for the fate of their mutinous conductor was such as might be wished: not a word, and scarce a whisper, was heard among them.

The behaviour of this unhappy man, throughout the whole of his trial, was firm and manly; while he was before the Court, decent and respectful, and from the time he received his sentence, till his execution, resigned and penitent. The uncommon fortitude he displayed during his trial did not forsake him even in the last moments of his wretched existence.

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94: William Lee

Executed before Newgate, 20th of April, 1796, for Burglary

WILLIAM LEE was an Irishman, and he broke into the shop of John Dingwell and Gerald Baillieu, then eminent jewellers in St James's Street, and stole from thence a quantity of diamonds and other valuable articles. With this booty he set off for Dublin, and there offered a large diamond pin for sale, to Mr Ambrose Moore, a jeweller. Mr Moore, suspecting that Lee did not come honestly into possession of so valuable an article, interrogated him accordingly; and the thief replied that his wife lived as servant to the Princesses Elizabeth, Mary and Sophia, by whom the pin had been given her.

This story of Royal generosity did not, however, satisfy the Irish jeweller, who caused our hero to be apprehended as a suspicious person, and he was committed to Dublin Bridewell, where he offered the keeper, Richard Warren, seven hundred pounds' worth of diamonds to favour his escape, swearing that he would never discover the manner of his enlargement.

The keeper affected to agree to these terms, whereupon Lee delivered him a number of diamonds, but the faithless jailer detained both them and his prisoner.

News of this transaction reaching London, Messrs Dingwell & Baillieu applied to the Secretary of State, who directed Warren to bring his prisoner and the diamonds to London. On his arrival at the Old Bailey, Moore proved the transaction of the pin, and Warren produced the bribe of diamonds, which Mr Baillieu swore was the property of his partner and himself. Hannah Hannats proved that the prisoner set off for Dublin with one Sarah Chandler, who was disguised in man's apparel.

The diamond stealer was convicted, and executed before Newgate, on the 20th of April, 1796.

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95: Henry Weston

Betrayed his Employer's Confidence, committed Forgery, and was executed before Newgate, 6th of July, 1796

HENRY WESTON belonged to a very respectable family in Ireland, and was recommended to Mr Cowan, of Ely Place, to manage his army agency concerns. Henry's attention to business was such as soon gained him the confidence of his employer. Mr Cowan, about the year 1794, having occasion to be absent in the country, gave Weston an unlimited order to draw upon his banker for any sums he might want; and to this implicit confidence upon his part may be dated the origin of the young man's ruin, for, having no person to overlook or to be a check upon him, he was tempted to hazard a large sum of money at a gaming-house in Pall Mail, which he lost; and, having gamed away nearly the whole property of his employer, he was at length induced, in the hope of recovering it, to forge the name of General Tonyn to a warrant of attorney, whereby he received upwards of ten thousand pounds at the bank, which sum did not uphold his extravagance more than two nights.

This matter lay undiscovered for some time, as he remitted the General's dividends regularly upon their becoming due. He likewise obtained from his cousin, Sir Hugh Walter, a large part of the fortune left him by his uncles, under the pretence of laying it out to advantage in the stocks, all of which was sunk at the gaming-table. This brought him to such a state of desperation that, to obtain more money, he had the audacity to take a woman to the bank to personate the sister of General Tonyn, and in consequence obtained another considerable sum. This he had a favourable opportunity of doing, as he was in the habit of transacting money affairs for that lady, who had met him about two months before at the Panorama, where she accused him of neglecting her payments.

Finding at length he could hold out no longer, he set off, about four o'clock on Friday, for Liverpool, where he was arrested on board a vessel on the point of sailing for America. He made several attempts to destroy himself, by cutting his throat.

His trial came on on 14th of May, at the sessions-house in the Old Bailey, before Mr Common Serjeant. The prisoner, after a most affecting trial, was found guilty. Thejury having delivered their verdict, the prisoner addressed the Court in these words:

"My Lord and gentlemen of the jury, the verdict which has now been passed upon me I hear with calmness and resignation, which I am happy in possessing upon so awful an occasion. I am, my Lord, as my appearance may easily show, a very young man. I hope the numerous young men who surround me will take example by my fate, and avoid those excesses, and fatal vice of gambling, which have brought me to ruin and disgrace, and I hope too that those further advanced in years will be cautious not to confine with too unlimited a control the management of their concerns to the care of inexperienced young men. The justice of my condemnation I acknowledge, and shall submit to it with patience and, I hope, with fortitude."

Sentence of death was passed; and as Weston entertained an abhorrence of being seen by the mob upon the scaffold he expressed an earnest desire that the platform should drop the moment he was tied to the gallows.

Another malefactor, named John Roberts, was sentenced to die at the same time, and Weston found it necessary to have his consent. One of the clergymen who attended Weston undertook to negotiate the melancholy business.

Upon Roberts being informed of the wish of his fellow-sufferer he replied "What! Is Weston afraid of being seen? That is not my case. I am not only willing that the people should see me, but likewise take warning by my untimely end; and therefore I desire to have the usual prayers under the gallows." The ordinary replied that he had a right to that indulgence, and it should be granted.

On the morning of the execution the Sacrament was administered by the ordinary, who afterwards prayed with the unhappy prisoners on the scaffold, attended by one of the divines alone, as the other two could not make up their minds to go on the platform, though requested by the unhappy young Weston.

When the executioner put on the cap, Weston pulled it as far as he possibly could over his face, and at the same time held a white handkerchief to his mouth, so that, during prayers, the populace could by no means see his countenance. He wept abundantly just before he was turned off, and squeezed the minister's hand, being no doubt at that time much agitated.

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96: Charles Scoldwell

A Sheriff Officer, convicted of stealing Two Ducks, and sentenced on 23rd of July, 1796, to Transportation for Seven Years

CHARLES SCOLDWELL was a sheriff officer, and the extraordinary crime of which he was convicted took place at Bedfont, near Hammersmith. The trial came on at the Old Bailey, before the recorder, on the 23rd of July, 1796. The indictment charged him with feloniously stealing two live tame ducks, and it was stated by Mr Ally, counsel for the prosecution, that this theft, or act of grand larceny, was attended with many aggravating circumstances of oppression.

The prisoner, who was a servant of the law, was executing a writ which he had against the prosecutor, Mr Spurling; the debt amounted to sixteen pounds, seven shillings. At ten at night the prisoner obtained admission to Mr Spurling, and informed him that he had a writ against him, and he must immediately go with him to Newgate. To this the prosecutor demurred as to the harshness of the intended removal, for if there was any demand against him he was ready to settle it. The prisoner replied: "No, no, you shall not settle it; you must immediately come with me to Newgate, and you must hire a post-chaise." Poor Mr Spurling replied: "It is hard to be obliged to hire a post-chaise to carry oneself to Newgate; if you will take me in a humble single horse-chaise, which I have of my own, I will go with you to Newgate." The prisoner's follower, whose name was Taylor, said he thought they had better settle the matter; and, in the prisoner's presence, asked him what kind of accommodation he could afford.

Mr Spurling said: "I have fifteen pounds in the house that you shall have, and something else to secure the balance, being one pound, seven shillings." Upon this the prisoner asked him if he had a watch, and he replied in the affirmative. The prisoner immediately said: "I must have that." This treatment was the more oppressive at that period as his wife was then very near that crisis when every good husband is more than ordinarily careful of his wife's safety, and therefore Mr Spurling, rather than leave his wife in that situation, gave the prisoner his watch, which he took, together with the fifteen pounds already mentioned. Scoldwell had no sooner got possession of these than he increased his demand. Said he: "This is a trifling thing; such gentlemen as we are cannot come into the country without something to bear our expenses." Upon that he asked the prosecutor for some money; who replied that he had only a few halfpence left, which he had taken in the course of his trade that day, and which amounted to about ten shillings. The prisoner, Scoldwell, received that ten shillings also. Soon after he asked if there were no fowls about the house. Mr Spurling told him he had only one or two. Then the prisoner inquired for a goose, because, he said, his wife was very fond of goose. The prosecutor said he had one; and the prisoner said he would take it to town.

On the prosecutor's remonstrating with him, the prisoner said he must have a goose. The prosecutor then let him have one. Still the rapacity of this man was not satisfied. He was no sooner possessed of this but, taking advantage of the prosecutor's peculiar situation with respect to his wife, he pursued his demands, extending even to the lease of the house. The prosecutor, wearied with his repeated exactions, told him the lease was his all, for he had expended three hundred pounds on the premises a short time before. However, the prisoner obtained possession of this lease also. These demands being thus complied with, the prisoner at the bar was still discontented. He said: "I must have a note for forty pounds on condition that the lease, watch and everything shall be mine, unless this debt and costs are legally settled within twenty- one days." This note, also, the prosecutor gave him; and here was a termination to such almost boundless rapacity. The prisoner left the prosecutor at about four or five in the morning, who, having to prepare his bread, retired to his bakehouse. He saw the prisoner, however, going towards the stable, in which were those two ducks which were the subject of inquiry. The prisoner soon after left the stable and went away. About six in the morning the prosecutor's wife ordered the ducks to be let out and fed, as they formerly, had been, but the ducks were gone from the stable. The prosecutor, it appears, saw those two ducks there about two hours before; and he could prove positively that they were actually in the stable at that very time. He could also prove that nobody went into the stable but the prisoner; and a sort of confession, or at least an admission, by the prisoner himself was established that he was the person who stole these ducks, for it happened that the prisoner, as he was coming back to town, met with a driver of a stage-coach. He got on the top of the coach, and in the course of a few miles, not foreseeing, at the moment, the event of the evening, tapped the coachman on the shoulder, and cried out: "Quack! Quack! Tick! Tick!" The coachman asked what he meant. The prisoner replied: " I have done the baker out of his ducks! have done the baker out of his watch! "

When they had proceeded a great way farther, the coachman stopped to water, and the ducks falling out of the prisoner's pocket the coachman said to him: "Mr Constable, if you do not take care you will lose the ducks you have stolen." His reply was not a denial of that charge. "No, no," says he, I will take care; I will keep them fast."

After the examination of several witnesses, the fact, as laid in the indictment, being clearly proved, the recorder summed up the evidence; and the jury, after half-an-hour's consideration, returned a verdict of guilty.

The prisoner, aged forty-one, was sentenced to be transported for seven years.

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97: John Clarke

Executed near Bromley, in Kent, 29th of July, 1796, for murdering a Dairymaid

JOHN CLARKE was gardener to Charles Long, Esq., near Bromley, in Kent, and at the Summer Assizes for 1796, at Maidstone, was indicted for the wilful murder of Elizabeth Mann, his fellow-servant, who lived as dairymaid with that gentleman.

The deceased was observed, a few days before she was murdered, to appear very much dejected, in consequence of the prisoner's not paying that attention to her which he was accustomed to do. The day on which she disappeared was a Monday, and on the Tuesday she was found by the steward and coachman in the dairy, with a deep wound in her throat and a cord fastened tight round her neck. From the intimacy which subsisted between the prisoner and her, their suspicions fell on him; in consequence of which two officers from Bow Street were sent for, who, on their arrival at Mr Long's house, went to the dairy, where, after a strict search, nothing was found that could possibly create a suspicion that the unfortunate young woman had been guilty of suicide.

They immediately took Clarke into custody. He denied knowing anything of the matter; but, in stating how he had been employed on the Monday evening on which the murder was perpetrated, he contradicted himself in his several relations.

A piece of rope was then produced, which had been found in the tool-house of the prisoner, which proved to be of the very same manufacture, texture and size as that found about the neck of the deceased.

The jury, after a short deliberation, found him guilty. He was ordered for execution, and his body afterwards to be dissected.

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98: Joseph Hodges and Richard Probin

Convicted at the Old Bailey, 1796, of a Confidence Trick called Cross-Dropping, and sentenced to Transportation

FORMERLY this description of fraud was frequently practised in London upon countrymen. The dupe, in the present instance, was William Headley, an ironmonger at Cambridge, who, on the trial of these robbers, deposed that on the 7th of July, 1796, he was going from Shoe Lane to the Angel Inn, St Clement's, to take a place on the outside of the coach, to see his brother in Wiltshire. He met Hodges in Butcher Row, and left him to take his place. Having taken it, Hodges overtook him in Portugal Street, but before he saw him he beheld a parcel lying at his right foot. Hodges clapped a hazel cane on the parcel, picked up the parcel, and tore away the middle part of the paper, and showed the red, which appeared like a pocket-book. He put it into his pocket, but took it out again in a minute, opened the end, and doubled it as large as he possibly could to satisfy the witness that there was something in it, and he told him he had got a finding. Witness asked him what it was, and he stopped near Mr Chorley's, the Castle, in Portugal Street. He said this was not a proper place to show it; but if witness would go in, and have something to drink, he would show it to him.

Accordingly he went in with him, and the prisoner Probin was there (that was the first time he had seen him). Hodges took out the pocket-book, unfolded it, produced a receipt from Mr Smith (which witness showed the Court), and read as follows:--

London, 20th of June, 1796.

Received of John King, Esq., the sum of three hundred and twenty pounds for one brilliant-diamond cross, by me,

WILLIAM SMITH

This was upon a fourpenny stamp. Hodges held it rather under the table, read the receipt, and seemed very much alarmed and confused at finding it. Witness read it, and Hodges asked what they should do with the book and its contents; then he showed witness the cross, who thought it should be taken to this William Smith, the jeweller. Hodges confessed himself much at a loss what to do with it, as he did not approve of sending it to the jeweller; and asked witness if he had any objection to its being mentioned to that gentleman (Probin). There was no other person then in the room, and they did not appear before that to know one another. Witness consented to its being shown to him, and he was asked to give his opinion of this finding. Probin addressed himself to them with a great deal of politeness, and said: "Gentlemen, if you are in any difficulty, I will assist you;" and he asked if anybody was near, or if they were both together. They told him nobody was near. He asked who picked it up; witness told him Hodges. Probin then said he thought Hodges ought to make witness a present, as being a party concerned. Hodges agreed to that proposal, and said he would go to his banker to get change for some drafts to make him a present, for being with him when the parcel was found. He said he should not be gone above ten minutes; but Probin said: "I think you should not take the pocket-book with you," and proposed it should be left with witness. Hodges went, and returned in about ten minutes, very hot, and said he had seen his banker, but he was obliged to go to the Exchange, and he should not see him again till four o'clock.

The business was then put off till four o'clock, and a meeting was appointed at the Angel, behind St Clement's. Probin asked witness his name and where he came from, and he told him; and Hodges gave him his name and address, saying he came from Worcester, and was in the hop business. Witness forgot the name Hodges gave, but was sure it was not that of Hodges. Probin gave his name as William Jones, No. 7 Charing Cross. Probin then said Hodges ought to have the pocket-book and the valuable property in it till four o'clock. Probin then asked witness what he would leave to have the property left with him till four o'clock: he asked him if he would leave one hundred pounds as a security for his meeting them. Witness pulled out some papers he had concealed in his stocking, and took therefrom a bill for one hundred pounds; it was a bank bill on demand. Probin took it out of Hodges's hand, turned it over, and examined it; said it was pieced, but it would do very well. Witness left the note in the care of Hodges, and departed.

About five minutes after he showed the cross to a friend, and, from what he said, witness was alarmed, and went to inquire for Mr Jones, No. 7 Charing Cross, but he could find no such person; and about two or three o'clock he gave information at Bow Street, and described the persons of the parties concerned. This event took place on Thursday, and Mr Headley saw them in custody at Bow Street on the Monday following.

Mr Lamb produced the bank-note, which the prosecutor deposed to as the same note he left with Hodges, the same number, and he also knew it by being pieced.

John Furmean, a jeweller, said there was no intrinsic value in the diamond cross. He would not give anything for it if offered to him for sale. Mr Francis Salkeld, one of the cashiers of the bank, swore that he gave value for the one-hundred-pound bank-note, and also to his writing on the face of it "W. Hodges, Holborn." The prisoner represented himself to be William Hodges, the witness supposed, by his writing that upon it. He gave ten ten-pound bank-notes, as appeared by the book. On looking at four bank-notes, which were found on Probin, the witness said they answered in date and number to the four in his entry.

Probin, in his defence, said that the notes which were found on him were Hodges's, who, having been intoxicated the preceding night, had given him his pocket-book to take care of. Hodges made no defence. They were both found guilty, and sentenced to be transported each for seven years.

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99: Sarah Penelope Stanley

The Female Trooper, convicted at the Old Bailey, in October Sessions, 1796, of Petty Larceny

THIS woman was born at Mercival Hall, in Warwickshire, the seat of Mr Stratford, to whom her father was steward, whose name was Brindley. She was apprenticed to a milliner at Lichfield, and married to a shoemaker. Her husband being an idle, dissolute fellow, they were reduced to very indigent circumstances. She left him to come to London. Having had a good education, and writing an excellent hand, she put on men's apparel, and for some time wrote for gentlemen in the Commons, but meeting with a recruiting sergeant at Westminster, she engaged to serve in a regiment of light horse, then being raised, called the Ayrshire Fencible Cavalry. She served upwards of a year with great credit to herself, and was promoted to the rank of corporal. She rode extremely well, and had the care of two horses; but was discovered at Carlisle to be a woman, when she was honourably discharged, after many marks of friendship shown her, not only by Major Horsley, in whose troop she rode, but by the other officers and many of the inhabitants of Carlisle.

She came to London, was much reduced, and, through mere necessity, stole the cloak for which she was tried and convicted. She acknowledged her crime, and said it was the first offence of the kind she had committed, and had meant to make satisfaction. The Court passed a light sentence upon her, and she was discharged from Newgate. The two under-sheriffs and the keeper gave her some money to provide her with a few necessaries, and she left the court, promising henceforward to seek an honest livelihood in the proper habit of her sex. She was a masculine- looking woman, of about thirty years of age.

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1797

100: James M'Kean

Executed for Murder, 25th of January, 1797, at Glasgow

JAMES M'KEAN kept a public-house on the highroad between Glasgow and Lanark. A carrier of the name of James Buchanan, about six o'clock one evening in winter-time, came to his house for rest and refreshment.

The landlord conducted the weary traveller to a room, then suddenly seized him and instantly cut his throat with a razor, which divided both the carotid arteries, and robbed him of his watch and a considerable sum of money. A noise having excited some surprise in his wife, she ran to the door, which was opened by M'Kean. Alarmed at the sight of some blood lying on the floor, she shrieked "Murder!"― on which her husband instantly ran off.

M'Kean was apprehended at Lamlash, in the Isle of Arran. Next morning he was conveyed to Glasgow in a post-chaise. On his arrival, about eight o'clock, the joy of the populace, at his apprehension, could not be restrained: they hailed the officers with loud acclamations, and the air resounded with huzzas when they saw him securely lodged in jail.

Buchanan's pocket-book, containing bank-notes to the amount of one hundred and eighteen pounds, his watch and several papers were found upon M'Kean. On his examination by the magistrates, M'Kean confessed the robbery, but endeavoured to palliate the charge of murder.

This wretch was found guilty, and was executed at the Cross of Glasgow, on a newly erected gibbet. He appeared on the scaffold dressed in white.

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101: Martin Clench And James Mackley

Believed to be innocent of a Charge of Murder, they were executed before Newgate, 5th of June, 1797, after the Gallows collapsed

THIS is another case wherein, it was believed, the unfortunate men died innocent of the crime alleged against them.

Sydney Fryer, Esq., a gentleman of considerable property, on Sunday, 7th of May, 1797, called, by appointment, on his cousin, Miss Ann Fryer, who resided in Shepherd Street, Oxford Street, in order to take a walk with her into the environs of London, to pay a visit to their aunt. When they had proceeded across the fields to the back part of Islington Workhouse they heard, as they thought, a female voice in distress; upon which Mr Fryer, contrary to his cousin's advice, leaped over the hedge into the field whence the voice seemed to proceed, but instead of seeing a woman he met with three men, who, upon his rashly drawing his tuck-stick (the sword of which dropped out), fired, and wounded him a little above the left eye, and he fell into a small pond. One of the villains took the watch out of his pocket and a purse from the lady, and another took her cloak. Mr Fryer died two hours after.

Several were taken up on suspicion and strictly examined, in the presence of Miss Fryer, but dismissed for want of evidence. On the 27th of May the Worship Street officers apprehended Clench, Mackley and one Smith, a chip-hat maker; but no criminality appearing in the latter, he was discharged, and the other two fully committed.

The prisoners were most impartially tried by Mr Justice Grose. They had four counsel: Messrs Const, Knapp, Alley and  Gurney; so that no ingenuity was wanting to plead their case effectually to the jury. Indeed there was no positive evidence except Miss Fryer's, who swore to the identity of the two prisoners' persons.

The jury, having retired for half-an-hour, returned with a verdict of guilty.

These two men were accordingly executed, and their bodies were publicly exposed in a stable, in Little Bridge Street, near Apothecaries' Hall, Surgeons' Hall.

A short time before their caps were drawn over their eyes the platform, by some improper management, suddenly went down, with the two clergymen, the executioner and his man. The Catholic priest who attended Clench, being very lusty, suffered most, but fortunately not materially. When the two men died, most of the people were of opinion that their fate was just; but soon after the confessions of three separate criminals, who could have had no interest in taking the crime upon themselves, threw a different light upon the transaction, and recalled to mind the strong assertions which Clench and Mackley had made of their innocence; forClench, upon retiring from the bar, returned thanks to the Court for the fairness of his trial, but observed (though in a rough way) that, though they were condemned to die, and be teased afterwards, alluding to their dissection, they were no more guilty of murder than their prosecutrix. One Burton Wood, who was afterwards executed at Kennington Common, and another, while under sentence of death, wrote a letter to Carpenter Smith, Esq., magistrate of Surrey, declaring the innocence of Clench and Mackley, for that they were, with another not then in custody, the murderers. Soon after the third man suffered for another offence at Reading gallows, and made the same confession. His name was Timms.

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102: Rebecca Howard

Executed at Norwich, 27th of August, 1797, for the Murder of her Illegitimate Child

AT the Norwich Assizes, August, 1797, Rebecca Howard was tried for and convicted of the wilful murder of her illegitimate child. Her behaviour during the trial was firm and collected; but while the jury were deliberating on the verdict she swooned away.

Previous to her execution she conducted herself with the greatest propriety. On Wednesday, at about twelve o'clock, she was conveyed from the city jail to the castle ditches, attended by the chaplain and a preacher of the Methodist society. When she arrived at the gallows, after singing a psalm with peculiar emphasis, she addressed herself to the spectators, and exhorted them to a due observance of the Sabbath, and to place all their confidence in God, if they did which, all other things would be added to them. She then sat down.

When asked if she was ready, she said: "Stop, I want to say something else." She then earnestly cautioned young folks of her own sex to avoid temptation, and to be on their guard against deceitful men, who had brought her to an ignominious death. She acknowledged the justness of her sentence, thanked the jailer for his humanity and attention, and expressed her forgiveness of all her enemies. Having taken leave of a young man and woman with an affectionate kiss, she exclaimed " Lord, have mercy on me! God bless you all! " and was immediately launched into eternity.

After hanging the usual time her body was delivered to the surgeons for dissection.

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103: Theresa Phipoe

Executed before Newgate, 11th of December, 1797, for Murder

MARIA THERESA PHIPOE, known also by the name of Mary Benson, was a woman of masculine behaviour, and of a daring disposition. Two years previous to her committing the murder for which she suffered she was convicted of forcibly taking from Mr John Cortois a promissory note of hand for two thousand pounds.

The manner in which she procured this note was as follows.

Soon after Mr Cortois had sat down in her house, she, knowing that he possessed considerable property, bound him, with the assistance of another desperate female acting as her servant, to his chair with a cord, and with horrid imprecations threatened -- and even attempted -- to cut his throat unless he gave her his note for two thousand pounds. In a state of terror he signed the written instrument. This done, the ferocious female thought she might negotiate the note with more safety if he was killed, calling to mind Satan's proverb that "Dead men tell no tales." For this diabolical purpose she again attempted to murder him, and ordered him instantly to prepare for death, either by swallowing arsenic, by a pistol, or stabbing with a knife, which she brandished over his head. At length the terrified gentleman became desperate in his turn, and attempted to escape. Mrs Phipoe seized him, but he extricated himself, after having several of his fingers badly cut with the said knife in the struggle.

For this most atrocious offence she was indicted and tried. She was found guilty; but her counsel moved an arrest of judgment, and an argument upon a point of law. It was determined that, great as were the aggravations in committing the crime, it did not come within the statute to make it felony without benefit of clergy. She was therefore indicted for the assault, found guilty, and sentenced, on the 23rd of May, 1795, to twelve months' imprisonment in Newgate.

Mrs Phipoe was discharged at the expiration of that term, and but a very few months elapsed ere, in her rapid course of vice, she committed the murder for which she was executed.

She was indicted for that she, not having the fear of God before her eyes, but being moved by the instigation of the devil, did, in Garden Street, in the parish of St George's-in-the-East, with malice aforethought, on the body of Mary Cox, commit the foul crime of murder.

It appeared in evidence that the deceased was acquainted with the prisoner, and that she had called at her lodgings. Soon after the mistress of the house heard a scuffle and groaning, so she called two neighbours, and, going to the prisoner's door, which was locked, asked what was the matter. She replied the woman was only in a fit, but that she was getting better. She then opened the door a little, when the witness saw she was stained with blood. Two persons went for a doctor, and a third, pushing open the door, saw the deceased bleeding upon the floor. She ran downstairs, crying "Murder!" and to her great terror was followed by the wounded woman, who laid hold of her. The deceased managed to get into the kitchen, where she was when the surgeons and beadles came. She was unable to speak, but yet made herself understood by one of the beadles that she had been thus wounded, by the woman upstairs.

He went up to the prisoner, who was sitting on the bed, and said to her: "For God Almighty's sake, what have you done to the woman below?"

She answered: "I don't know; I believe the devil and passion bewitched me."

There was part of a finger and a case-knife lying upon the table, He said:

"Is this the knife you did the woman's business with?"

She answered: "Yes."

"Is this your finger?" "Yes." "Did the woman below cut it off?"

"Yes."

But this the deceased denied, upon his afterwards questioning her about it.

The surgeon described the deceased to have received five stabs upon the throat and neck, besides several wounds in different parts of the body, and agreed with the surgeon who afterwards attended her in the hospital that those wounds were undoubtedly the cause of her death. The next day the deceased made a declaration before a magistrate, wherein she stated that she had purchased of the prisoner a gold watch and other articles, for which she paid eleven pounds, and then asked for a china coffee-cup, which stood upon the chimneypiece, into the bargain. The prisoner bade her take it; but, on doing so, she stabbed her in the neck, and afterwards had her under her hands for more than an hour, she calling "Murder!" all the time, till at last she got her upon the bed, when she said she would kill her outright, so that she might not tell her own story.

The jury retired for twenty minutes, and returned with a verdict of guilty.

Proclamation being made in the usual form, Mr Baron Perryn immediately proceeded to pass sentence: that she should be executed on the Monday following, and her body afterwards dissected and anatomised, according to the statute. She left a guinea for the most deserving debtor in the jail, and gave the same sum to the executioner.

After hanging an hour in view of a great number of spectators, one-third of whom were females, the body was cut down and publicly exhibited in a place built for the purpose in the Old Bailey.

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1798

104: George Waldron, alias Barrington

The Gentleman-Pickpocket. Several times convicted, Sentenced twice to hard labour on the Thames, and finally, on September 27, 1798, transported to Botany Bay

PERHAPS never splendid talents were more perverted than by that notorious character, so well known as George Barrington. We could scarcely believe that even in the melancholy catalogue of crimes, a man, of excellent education and accomplished manners, could be found descending to the degraded character of a pickpocket.

George Waldron (alias Barrington) was born at a village called Maymooth, in the county of Kildare, Ireland. His father, Henry Waldron, was a working silversmith; and his mother, whose maiden name was Naith, was a mantua-maker, and occasionally a midwife. His parents though not affluent, had him instructed in reading and writing, at an early age; afterwards, through the bounty of a medical gentleman, in the neighbourhood, he was taught common arithmetic, the elements of geography, and English grammar.

When sixteen years of age, he was noticed and patronized by a dignitary in the church of Ireland, who placed him at a free grammar school, and intended him for the university; however, he forfeited this gentleman's favour by his ill conduct at school, having, in a quarrel, stabbed one of his school-fellows with a pen-knife. For this vindictive act he was well flogged; in consequence of which he ran away from school, in 1771, having previously found means to steal ten or twelve guineas from his master, and a gold repeating watch from his master's sister. He walked all night till he arrived at an obscure inn at Drogheda, where he happened to meet and become acquainted with a company of strolling players, whose manager was one John Price, an abandoned character; who having been convicted of a fraud in London, was an involuntary exile in Ireland, until the expiration of the term for which he was sentenced to be transported.

He now engaged our fugitive, who, in consequence, adopted the name of Barrington, as one of his performers, and who, it seems, became the hero of his company. While performing the character of Jaffier, in 'Venice Preserved,' he made a conquest of the tender Belvidera (Miss Egerton) and to the credit of Barrington it must be acknowledged, that he took no mean advantage of her passion, but returned it with perfect sincerity.

The company being now reduced by the expenses of travelling, etc. to extreme indigence, Price, the manager, prevailed upon Barrington to undertake the profession of a pickpocket, which business be commenced in the summer of the year 1771, having then renounced the stage. He soon after lost his faithful Miss Egerton, who was drowned, in the eighteenth year of her age, in crossing the river Boyne, through the culpable negligence of a ferryman.

He then commenced what is called a gentleman pickpocket, by affecting the airs and importance of a man of fashion; but was so much alarmed at the detection and conviction of his preceptor Price (who was sentenced to transportation for seven years) that he hastened to Dublin, where he practised his pilfering art during dark evenings.

At one of the races in the county of Carlow, he was detected picking the pocket of Lord B. but on restoring the property, this nobleman declined any prosecution, and Barrington accordingly left Ireland, and for the first time appeared in England in 1773. On his first visit to Ranelagh with a party, he left his friends, and picked the pockets of the Duke of L. and Sir W. of a considerable sum; and also took from a lady a watch, with all which he got off undiscovered and rejoined his friends.

In 1775, he visited the most celebrated watering places, particularly Brighton, and being supposed a gentleman of fortune and family, was noticed by persons of the first distinction. On his return to London, he formed a connexion with one Lowe, and became a more daring pickpocket. He went to court on the queen's birthday, as a clergyman, and not only picked several pockets, but found means to deprive a nobleman of his diamond order, and retired from the place without suspicion. It is said that this booty was disposed of to a Dutch Jew. Count Orlow, the Russian minister, being in one of the boxes of Drury-lane playhouse, was robbed of a gold snuff-box, set with diamonds, estimated to be worth an immense sum; and one of the count's attendants suspecting Barrington, seized him, and found the snuff-box in his possession. He was examined by Sir John Fielding, but the count, being in a foreign country, was influenced by motives of delicacy to decline a prosecution.

Being soon after in the House of Lords, when an appeal of an interesting nature was to come on, a Mr. G. recognized his person, and applying to the deputy usher of the black rod, he was disgracefully turned out. He now threatened Mr. G. with revenge, upon which a warrant was granted to bind him over to keep the peace; and as he could find no surety, he was obliged to go to Tothill-fields prison-bridewell, where he remained some time.

On being released, he returned to his old profession, and was about three months after convicted of picking the pocket of Mrs. Dudman, at Drury-lane Theatre, and was sentenced to three years hard labour on the Thames.

Hitherto our pickpocket hero had a faithful confederate in the execution of his plans of robbery. This helpmate was a Miss West, of nearly equal notoriety as a sharping courtezan. Barrington being now safely confined on board the hulk at Woolwich, his associate and friend Miss West, was compelled to plan and execute alone: not that she found herself at any mighty loss; but the forcible impression made on her feelings by the loss of so near a  favourite, oppressed her spirits, and rendered dormant, for a short time, that inherent vigour for active life, which she had hitherto constantly displayed. To soothe the gloomy hours of captivity as much as possible, she constantly sent Mr. Barrington two guineas per week, and paid him personal visits as often as opportunity would permit.

In one of these excursions she fell into the company of David Brown Dignum, another convict of notoriety, and who having plenty of cash, was selected as a proper object for the display of this lady's talents; and she actually perpetrated the deed in the midst of the seat of punishment, and congratulated herself not a little on the brilliancy of her success, But Barrington, who always strongly supported the common maxim, 'that there is honesty among thieves' compelled her to restore the plunder; though much against her inclination.

This audacious woman was, in all, tried seven times at the Old Bailey; four of which she was acquitted, and found guilty the other three. The last public offence she committed, was on the 14th of February, 1777, when she robbed Gilbert Affleck, Esq. of a watch, chain, and seals, value 8L., and was detected in endeavouring to hand it to an associate, disguised with a black patch over his eyes. She was found guilty by the jury, and, sentenced to three years imprisonment in Newgate. About the expiration of her time, she canght the gaol distemper; and died in a fortnight after her discharge had taken place, thus yielding up her last breath, in perfect conformity with the infamous tenor of her life.

After sustaining something less than a twelvemonth's punishment, Barrington was again set at liberty, in consequence of his good behaviour, through the interference of Messrs. Erskine and Duncan Campbell, the superintendants of the convicts. A few days after his release, he went to St. Sepulchre's church, when Dr. Milne was to preach a charity sermon, for the benefit of the Society for the Recovery of Persons Apparently Drowned. William Payne, a constable, saw him put his hand into a lady's pocket in the south aisle, and presently after followed him out of the church, and took him into custody near the end of Cock-lane, upon Snow-hill. Having taken the prisoner to St. Sepulchre's watch-house, and found a gold watch, and some other articles, in his possession, Payne returned to the church, and spoke to the lady whom he had seen the prisoner attempt to rob; she informed him she had lost nothing, for expecting the church to be much crowded, she had taken the precaution of emptying her pockets before she left her house. Upon Payne's return to the watchhouse, a gentleman advised that the prisoner might be more strictly searched. He was desired to take off his hat, and raising his left arm, he cautiously removed his hat from his head, when a metal watch dropped upon the floor. He was now obliged to pull off the greatest part of his clothes. He wore three pair of breeches, in one of the pockets of which was found a purse, containing thirteen guineas, and a bank-note for £10 made payable to himself.

In consequence of an advertisement inserted the next day in the newspapers, Mrs. Ironmonger came to Payne's house, and described the watch she had lost; and it proved to be that which had been concealed in Barrington's hair, and dropped on the floor when he took off his hat. She attended the examination of the prisoner, and having sworn that the watch produced by Payne was her property, was bound over to prosecute. Upon his trial, Barrington made a long, an artful, and a plausible defence. He said, that upon leaving the church, he perceived the watch mentioned in the indictment lying upon the ground, and took it up, intending to advertise it the next day; that be was followed to Snow-hill by Payne and another constable, who apprehended him, and had, in all probability seen him take up the watch. "I reflected (said he) that how innocently soever I might have obtained the article in question, yet it might cause some censure; and no one would wonder, considering the unhappy predicament I stood in, [alluding to his former conviction] that I should conceal it as much as possible." The jury having pronounced the prisoner guilty, he addressed the court, earnestly supplicating that he might be permitted to enter into his Majesty's service, and promising to discharge his trust with fidelity and attention; or if he could not be indulged in that request, he wished that his sentence might be banishment for life from his Majesty's dominions.

The court informed him, that by an application to the throne, he might obtain a mitigation of his sentence, if his case, was attended by such circumstances of extenuation as would justify him in humbly petitioning to be considered as an object of the royal favour. He requested that the money and bank-note might be returned. Hereupon the court observed, that, in consequence of his conviction, the property found on him when be was apprehended, became vested in the hands of the sheriffs of the city of London, who had discretionary power either to comply with, or reject his request.

He was again sentenced to labour on the Thames, for the space of five years, on Tuesday the 5th of April, 1778. About the middle of this year, he was accordingly removed to the hulks at Woolwich, where having attracted the notice of a gentleman, who exerted his influence in his favour, he again procured his release, on condition of his leaving England; to this Barrington gladly consented, and was generously supplied with money by this gentleman. He now went to Dublin, where he was soon apprehended for picking the pocket of an Irish nobleman of his gold watch and money, at the theatre, but was acquitted for want of evidence.

Here, however, was his first display of elocution; for having received a serious admonition from the judge, he addressed the court with considerable animation, and enlarged with great ingenuity, upon what he termed the force of prejudice, insinuating that calumny had followed him from England to Ireland.

On his acquittal, however, he deemed it most prudent to leave Dublin; he therefore visited Edinburgh, where being suspected, he was obliged to decamp. He now returned to London, and braving danger, frequented the theatres, opera-house, pantheon, etc. but was at length taken into custody. Having been acquitted for want of evidence for the charge brought against him, he was unexpectedly detained for having returned to England in violation of the condition on which his Majesty was pleased to grant him a remission of his punishment, and was accordingly confined in Newgate, during the remainder of the time that he was originally to have served on the river Thames.

On the expiration of his captivity, he returned to his former practices, but with greater caution. Barrington was detected, in St. Paul's cathedral, picking the pocket of Mrs. Montague, of two guineas and seven shillings: he was taken to the Crown, in St. Paul's Church-yard; where, asking leave of the constable that had him in custody, to go into the yard, he got over the wall into Paternoster-row, and effected an escape.

Soon afterwards he got into company with John Brown, Esq. of Brentford, and while he was in conversation with him, picked his pocket of forty guineas, a gold watch, and seals; with this booty he made shift to live till he was apprehended for robbing Elizabeth Ironmonger.

He was at length apprehended for picking the pocket of Mr. Le Mesurier, at Drury-lane play-house, but effected his escape from the constable; and while the lawyers were outlawing him, and the constables endeavouring to take him, he evaded detection by travelling in various disguises and characters through the northern counties of the kingdom; he visited the great towns as a quack doctor, clergyman, rider, etc. but was at last apprehended in Newcastle upon Tyne, and removed to London by a writ of Habeas Corpus.

He now employed counsel, and had the outlawry against him reversed. He was then tried for robbing Mr. Le Mesurier, and acquitted for the want of a material witness. Even this narrow escape did not intimidate this daring character: he had the effrontery to proceed from prison once more to his native country, Ireland. He soon, however, found Dublin by no means so rich a harvest as London, but he did not quit the former until the officers of justice were again at his heels.

It is now high time to come to the crime for which he was transported; but in so doing, we must, for want of room, pass over his many nimble tricks, and hair-breadth escapes. He was at length indicted for picking the pocket of Henry Hare Townsend, Esq., of a gold watch. The fact was fully proved; but in order to give our readers a specimen of his abilities in pleading, we shall insert the outline of the speech he made in his defence:

'May it please your Lordship, and you, Gentlemen of the Jury, To favour me with your attention for a little time. The situation of every person who has the misfortune to stand here is extremely distressing and awkward; mine is so in a peculiar degree: if I am totally silent, it may be considered perhaps as a proof of guilt, and if I presume to offer those arguments which present themselves to my mind, in my defence, they may not, perhaps, be favoured with that attention which they might deserve; yet I by no means distrust the candour and benevolence of the jury, and therefore I beg leave to proceed to state the circumstances of the case as they occur to me, not doubting but they will meet with some degree of credit, notwithstanding the various reports to my prejudice.

'It appears that Mr. Townsend being at the races at Barnet, was robbed of his watch; and that he turned to me, saying, "Your name is Barrington, and you have taken my watch." I told him he was right as to my name, but he accused me unjustly: however I would go anywhere with him; I was removed from thence to a stand, from whence the races were viewed; it consisted of two booths, and they were separated from each other with only a railing elbow high; and it is a great misfortune to me, gentlemen of the jury, that you were not able to observe the situation of those booths; for if you had, you would have found it nearly impossible that some circumstances which have come from the witnesses could be true; I was close to the railing that separated the two booths, and some person said, "Here is a watch!" This watch Mr. Townsend claimed, and said it was his. I was removed from thence to the Angel at Edmonton, where the examination took place, and I am very sorry to be under the necessity of observing that a very material difference has taken place in the depositions delivered that day before the magistrates in various respects. A witness, the coachman, positively declared that he did not see this watch in my hand, that he did not see me take it from my pocket, that he did not see it drop from the person, but that he saw it on the ground, and he might have gone so far as to say he saw it fall; I took the liberty of asking him one question, Whether he had seen this watch in my hand, or whether he had seen it fall from me? He declared he did not. I then asked him, whether he could take upon himself to swear, from the situation he stood in at the adjoining booth, that this watch might not have dropped from some other person. He declared he could not observe any such thing. Gentlemen, with respect to the evidence of Kendrick, he made the same declaration then. Mr. Townsend has brought me here, under the charge of having committed felony; he has told you, gentlemen of the jury, that he lost a watch out of his pocket, and that pocket is a waistcoat pocket; that he was in a very extraordinary situation; that he was on the race ground, where certainly the greatest decorum is not always observed; and he was also in a situation which exposed him more to the pressure he complained of, than any other person; for instead of his horse being in the possession of his jockey or groom, he attended it himself; and I must beg leave to observe, gentlemen of the jury, that it is a custom where people bet money at races, to  wish to see the horse immediately after the heat is over; so that the pressure which Mr. Townsend had, or what he thought he had from me, could not appear very extraordinary; and I am under the necessity of saying, his fancy has rather been improved on the occasion. With respect, gentlemen, to the last witness that has appeared, I will say nothing on the occasion; that will rest entirely upon you. It was a circumstance, however, of a most extraordinary nature, that this person should never come forward till the present moment; and whether the contradictions and strange accounts she has given of herself, are such as to entitle her to any credit, particularly in a situation where the life or liberty of another is at stake; where much pains have been taken to defame, some pains may be surely allowed to abate that defamation. Gentlemen, that it has been the hard lot of some unhappy persons, to have been convicted of crimes they did really not commit, less through evidence than ill-natured report, is doubtless certain: and doubtless there are many respectable persons now in court, fully convinced of the truth of that observation. Such times, it is to be hoped, are past; I dread not such a conviction in my own person; I am well convinced of the noble nature of a British court of justice; the dignified and benign principles of its judges; and the liberal and candid spirit of its jurors.

'Gentlemen, life is the gift of God, and liberty its greatest blessing: the power of disposing of both, or either, is the greatest man can enjoy. It is also advantageous, that, great as that power is, it cannot be better placed than in the hands of an English jury; for they will not exercise it like tyrants, who delight in blood, but like generous and brave men, who delight to spare rather than to destroy! and who, not forgetting they are men themselves, lean, when they can, to the side of compassion. It may be thought, gentlemen of the jury, that I am applying to your passions, and if I had the power to do it, I would not fail to employ it: the passions animate the heart; to the passions we are indebted for the noblest actions; and to the passions we owe our dearest and finest feelings; and when it is considered the mighty power you now possess, whatever leads to a cautious and tender discharge of it, must be thought of great consequence; as long as the passions conduct us on the side of benevolence, they are our best, our safest, and our most friendly guides.

'Gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Townsend has deposed that he lost his watch, but how, I trust, is by no means clear; I trust, gentlemen, you will consider the great, the almost impossibility, that having had the watch in my possession for so long a time, time sufficient to have concealed it in a variety of places, to have conveyed it to town, it should still be in my possession. You have heard from Mr. Townsend that there was an interval, of at least half an hour between the time of losing the watch, and my being taken into custody: there is something, gentlemen, impossible in the circumstance; and, on the other hand, it has sometimes happened, that remorse, a generous remorse, has struck the minds of persons in such a manner, as to have induced them to surrender themselves into the hands of justice, rather than an innocent person should suffer. It is not, therefore, I suppose, improbable, that if Mr. Townsend lost his watch by an act of felony, the person who had the watch in his possession, feeling for the situation of an unhappy man, might be induced to place that watch on the ground. But it is by no means certain how Mr. Townsend lost his watch, whether by an act of felony, or whether by accident, it might have fallen into  the hands of some other person, and that person, feeling for my unhappy situation, might have been induced to restore it.

'I humbly hope that the circumstances of the case are such as may induce a scrupulous jury to make a favourable decision; and I am very well convinced that you will not be led by any other circumstances than those of the present case; either from reports or former misfortunes, or by the fear of my falling into similar ones. I am now just thirty-two years of age (shall be so next month); it is nearly half the life of man, it is not worth while being impatient to provide for the other half; so far as to do any thing unworthy.

'Gentlemen, in the course of my life I have suffered much distress, I have felt something of the vicissitudes of fortune, and now from observation, I am convinced, upon the whole, there is no joy but what arises from the practice of virtue, and consists in the felicity of a tranquil mind and a benevolent heart; sources of consolation which the most prosperous circumstances do not  always furnish, and which may be felt under the most indigent.

'It will be my study, gentlemen, to possess them; nor will the heaviest affliction of poverty, pain, or disgrace, cause me to part with resolutions founded on the deepest reflection, and which will end but with life; I will perish on the pavement before I will deviate from them. For my own part, whatever your verdict may be, I trust I shall be enabled to meet it with firmness of mind; he indeed has little to fear from death, whose fame is tarnished, and who has endured the ceaseless abuse of unfeeling minds; when heaven accepts contrition, it receives into favour when it pardons: but man, more cruel than his Maker, pursues his offending brother with unrelenting severity, and marks a deviation from rectitude with a never dying infamy, and with unceasing suspicion and reproach, which seem to exclude him from the pale of virtue.

'Gentlemen of the jury, though the thought of death may appal the rich and prosperous, but on the other hand the unfortunate cannot have much to fear from it; yet the tenderness of nature cannot be quite subdued by the utmost degree of human resolution, and I cannot be insensible to the woes which must be felt by an affectionate companion, and an infant offspring, and there is besides, a principle in human nature, stronger even than the fear of death, and which can hardly fall to operate some time or other in life; I mean the desire of good fame, under that laudable influence.

'Gentlemen, if I am acquitted, I will quickly retire to some distant land, where my name and misfortunes will be alike unknown; where harmless manners may shield me from the imputation of guilt, and where prejudice will not be liable to misrepresentation, and I do now assure you, gentlemen of the jury, that I feel a cheering hope, even at this awful moment, that the rest of my life will be so conducted, as to make me as much an object of esteem and applause, as I am now the unhappy object of censure and suspicion.'

The jury, however, instantly found him guilty.

On Wednesday, September 22, 1798, George Barrington was sent to the bar.

Mr. Recorder: George Barrington: the sentence of the Court upon you, is, that you be transported for the term of seven years, to parts beyond the seas, to such place as his Majesty, with the advice of his privy council, shall think fit to declare and appoint.

To which Barrington replied,

'My Lord,

'I had a few words to say, why sentence of death should not be passed upon me; I had much to say, though I shall say but little on the occasion. Notwithstanding I have the best opinion of your lordship's candour, and have no wish or pleasure in casting a reflection on any person whatever; but I cannot help observing that it is the strange lot of some persons through life, that with the best wishes, the best endeavours, and the best intentions, they are not able to escape the envenomed tooth of calumny: whatever they say or do is so twisted and perverted from the reality, that they will meet with censures and misfortunes, where perhaps they were entitled to success and praise.

"The world, my lord, has given me credit for much more abilities than I am conscious of possessing; but the world should also consider that the greatest abilities may be obstructed by the mercenary nature of some unfeeling minds, as to render them entirely useless to the possessor. Where was the generous and powerful man that would come forward and say, "You have some abilities which might be of service to yourself and to others, but you have much to struggle with, I feel for your situation, and will place you in a condition to try the sincerity of your intentions; and as long as you act with diligence and fidelity, you shall not want for countenance and protection?" But, my lord, the die is cast! I am prepared to meet the sentence of the court, with respectful resignation, and the painful lot assigned me, I hope, with becoming resolution.'

Barrington, as he had promised in his last speech, underwent his sentence with submission. His good conduct on his long passage to Botany-bay, had gained the friendship and confidence of his officers. He was the means of subduing a mutiny on board, by which he most likely saved many of his fellow-creatures from being massacred.

On his arrival at Port Jackson, he was appointed superintendent of convicts at Paramatta; in which situation his exemplary attention to his duty testified the sincerity of his reformation, and rendered him a useful member of society for the remainder of his life.

___________

105: Robert Ladbroke Troyt

A Boy of Seventeen, executed before Newgate, 28th of November,

1798, for Forgery, his First Offence

ALTHOUGH only seventeen years old, Robert Ladbroke Troyt was found guilty, at the Old Bailey, of having feloniously forged, and published as true, knowing it to be forged, a certain draft, dated the 20th of August, for the sum of seventy-five pounds, payable to Sir William Blackstone, purporting to be the draft of Messrs Devaynes, Dawes, Noble & Co.

On his trial this miserable boy was gaily dressed, and appeared to have no sense of the awful situation in which he stood, behaving with much unconcern; but at the place of execution he was a lamentable spectacle. He screamed in horror at the first sight of the apparatus of death, and during the short time allowed upon the scaffold for devotion he was in the greatest agony of mind.

He suffered for his first offence. He had been for a short time clerk to a gentleman of eminence in the profession of the law, courted the company of his elders, and tasted the dissipation (which they call the pleasures) of London. To support such an evil course he committed the fatal deed which so soon put a stop to his career.

_______________

1799

106: James Turnbull

A Private Soldier, executed before Newgate, 15th of May, 1799, for robbing the Mint

IN the reign of King Charles II. Colonel Blood forcibly stole the crown from the Tower of London, and had proceeded almost out of detection before the valuable gem was recovered.

James Turnbull, with equal desperate resolution, robbed the National Mint in the same fortress. At the Old Bailey, 25th of February, Turnbull was tried for robbing the Mint. It appeared in evidence that the prisoner (a private soldier in the 3rd Regiment of Guards), was employed, on the 20th of December previous, with orders for the military quartered at the Tower, to work the die in the coinage of guineas. At nine o'clock he pretended to go with the other men to his breakfast, but returned in a minute or two with a comrade named Dalton. The latter stood at the door while Turnbull went and clapped a pistol to the head of one Finch, an apprentice, who was left in care of the coining-room― together with a Mr Chambers― and demanded the key of the chest where the finished guineas were deposited. Mr Chambers came up to interfere, when the prisoner levelled the pistol at his forehead, and pushed him into a passage leading to another room, in which he locked both him and Finch. He then opened the chest and took out four bags, containing two thousand, three hundred and eighty guineas, and escaped with them before an alarm could be made. For a fortnight he eluded all search and pursuit, but was apprehended on the 5th of January, at Dover, endeavouring to hire a boat to carry him into France.

The foregoing circumstances being fully substantiated by evidence, he acknowledged himself to be guilty of the said robbery, when called on to make his defence, and the jury instantly found him guilty. His counsel urged a point of law in arrest of judgment, which the Court deemed not of the least force, and he accordingly received sentence of death. He instantly replied "I have now heard my sentence, and I thank God for it."

He was tried and convicted on the 25th of February, but was not executed until the 15th of May.

_________________

107: Margaret Hughes

Executed at Canterbury, 4th of July, 1799, for murdering her Husband

AT the General Sessions for the city of Canterbury this woman was convicted of poisoning her husband, Thomas Hughes.

Her case was, however, referred to the opinion of the twelve judges, but she was brought to the bar soon after, and informed that the Court had awarded her former sentence, and that in consequence her execution must take place the Wednesday following.

She was accordingly brought a few minutes before one o'clock from West Gate, Canterbury, to a room in the jailer's house, whence she was conducted by a gallery to the temporary gallows, erected upon a platform, about ten feet from the ground, on the north side of the Gate, and executed, according to her sentence.

She received the Sacrament, and joined in the devotions with the utmost fervency. The lever was then touched, and instantly part of the platform under her feet dropped, by which she descended six or eight inches.

After remaining suspended an hour, the body was taken down, and at night delivered to the surgeons for dissection.

End

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