The Newgate Calendar
Part II (1742 to 1799)




HENRY COOK
Notorious Horse-Stealer and Highwayman, executed at Tyburn,
16th of December, 1741

HENRY COOK committed more robberies, singly, than
Wild, Turpin or Hawke, and was long the terror of travellers on
different roads, but particularly in Essex. The story of his career
makes a long narrative of curious and daring exploits, with
hairbreadth escapes, before he was taken. Cook was the son of
creditable parents in Houndsditch, who, having given him a decent
education, apprenticed him to a leather cutter, with whom he
served his time, and then his father took the shop of a shoemaker at
Stratford, in Essex, in which he placed his son. Having some
knowledge of the shoemaking business, he was soon well
established, and married a young woman at Stratford, by whom he
had three children, before he commenced as highwayman.
However, it was not long after his marriage before the associating
with bad company and the neglect of his business involved him so
far in debt that he was obliged to quit his house in apprehension of
the bailiffs. He was afterwards obliged wholly to decline business,
and having taken up goods in the name of his father he was
ashamed to make application to him for relief in his distress.

Among the idle acquaintances that Cook had made at
Stratford was an apothecary, named Young, who was concerned
with him in robbing gardens and fishponds, and in stealing poultry.
The persons robbed offered a reward for apprehending the
offenders, and Cook having been known to sell fowls at
Leadenhall Market a warrant was granted to take him into custody;
but, having notice of it, he concealed himself two months at the
house of a relation at Grays, in Essex. During this retreat it was
determined not to execute the warrant; but Cook, learning that a
bailiff at Stratford had vowed to arrest him if he could be found,
sent the officer a letter, advising him to consult his own safety, for
he would blow his brains out if he should meet him. This threat
effectually intimidated the bailiff; and Cook, having dissipated all
his cash, went to Stratford, where he found a man so intimate with
his wife that he became enraged in the highest degree, and taking
several articles of furniture with him went to London and sold
them. This being done, he went to the house of a relation in
Shoreditch, where he was treated with civility while his money
lasted; but when that was nearly gone there was no further
appearance of friendship; and, being now driven to extremity, he
went to Moorfields, where he purchased a pair of pistols, and
having procured powder and ball went towards Newington, on his
way to which he robbed a man of fifteen shillings, and returned to
London.

Thus embarked on the highroad to destruction, he
determined to continue his dangerous trade; and on the following
day went to Finchley Common, where he stopped a gentleman, the
bridle of whose horse he seized, and ordered him to dismount on
pain of death. The rider, complying, was robbed both of his money
and horse; but he offered the highwayman three guineas if he
would send the horse to an inn at St Albans, which he promised to
do; but afterwards finding that he had a valuable acquisition in the
beast he failed to restore him.

This robbery being committed, he crossed the country to
Enfield Chase, and going to a public-house where he was known
said that he wished to hide himself lest he should be arrested.
Having continued here two days, he proceeded to Tottenham,
where he robbed a gentleman of about six pounds, and leaving his
horse at an inn in Bishopsgate Street he went to his kinsman's in
Shoreditch, where he was interrogated respecting his possessing so
much money; but he would give no satisfactory answer. On the
following day he went on the St Albans Road, and having robbed
the passengers of a stage-coach of eight pounds he went to Enfield
Chase, to the house he had frequented before; but while he was
there he read an advertisement in which his horse was so exactly
described that he determined to abscond; on which he went to
Hadley Common, near Barnet, where he robbed a gentleman, and
taking his horse, gave the gentleman his own.

Soon after this he went to an inn at Mims, where he saw a
gentleman whom he had formerly robbed, and was so terrified by
the sight of the injured party that he ran to the stable, took his
horse and galloped off with the utmost expedition. On the road
between Mims and Barnet he was met by eight men on horseback,
one of whom challenged the horse he rode, saying that a
highwayman had stolen it from a gentleman of his acquaintance.

Our adventurer replied that he had bought the horse at the
Bell, in Edmonton, of which he could give convincing proofs; on
which the whole company determined to attend him to that place.
But when he came near Edmonton he galloped up a lane, where he
was followed by all the other parties; and finding himself in danger
of being apprehended he faced his pursuers and, presenting a
pistol, swore he would fire unless they retreated. Some countrymen
coming up at this juncture, he must have been made prisoner, but,
night advancing, he quitted his horse and took shelter in a wood.

When he thought he might safely leave his lurking-place he
hastened to London, going to the house of his relation in
Shoreditch, where he was challenged with having committed
robberies on the highway; but nothing could be learned from the
answers he gave. Having dissipated his present money, he went
again upon Finchley Common. His late narrow escape, however,
made such an impression on his mind that he suffered several
persons to pass unattacked, but at length robbed an old man of his
horse and five pounds, though not till after it was dark. Soon
afterwards he met a gentleman, whom he obliged to change horses
with him; but in a few minutes the gentleman was stopped by the
owner of the stolen horse, who said a highwayman had just robbed
him of it. Enraged at this, the gentleman swore the place was
infested with thieves; however, he delivered the horse and walked
to London.

Cook, riding to his old place of resort, near the Chase,
remained there three days; but, seeing the horse he had last stolen
advertised, he rode off in fear of discovery, and had not proceeded
far before he was seized by the owner of the horse, assisted by
three other persons, who conducted him to Newgate. At the next
Old Bailey sessions he was indicted for stealing this horse; but
acquitted, because the owner would not swear to his person.

Soon after his discharge he returned to his former practices,
but, his affairs with his creditors having been by this time adjusted
by his friends, he lived at Stratford with his wife, and committed
his depredations chiefly in Epping Forest. Having acquired a booty
of thirty pounds, he showed it to a journeyman he kept, named
Taylor, and asked him how he might employ it to the best
advantage in buying leather; but Taylor, guessing how it had been 
obtained, offered to go partners with his master in committing
robberies on the highway; and the base contract was instantly
made. They now stopped a great number of coaches on the borders
of the Forest; but acted with such an uncommon degree of caution
that they were for a long time unsuspected. The neighbours being
at length terrified by such repeated outrages on the public peace, a
Captain Mawley took a place in the basket of the Colchester coach
to make discoveries; and, Cook and Taylor coming up to demand
the money of the passengers, Taylor was shot through the head; on
which Cook ran to the Captain and robbed him of his money, on
threats of instant death. The carriage driving on, Cook began to
search his deceased companion for his money; but on some of the
neighbours coming up he retired behind a hedge to listen to their
conversation; and having found that some of them knew the
deceased, and intimated that he had been accompanied by Cook, he
crossed the fields to London.

Having spent three days in riot and dissipation, he went to
his relation in Shoreditch, whom he requested to go to Stratford to
inquire the situation of affairs there. When his relation returned, he
told him there were several warrants issued against him, and
advised him to go to sea. This he promised to do, but instead
thereof he bought a horse and rode to Brentwood, in Essex, where
he heard little conversation but of Cook, the famous highwayman
of Stratford; and on the next day he followed a coach from the inn
where he had put up, and took about thirty pounds from the
passengers.

Cook now connected himself with a gang of desperate
highwaymen in London, in conjunction with whom he stopped a
coach near Bow, in which were some young gentlemen from a
boarding-school. A Mr Cruikshanks riding up at this instant, one of
the gang demanded his money; but as he hesitated to deliver it,
another of them knocked him down and killed him on the spot;
after which the robbers went to a public-house near Hackney
Marsh, and divided the spoils of the evening.

Oppressed in mind by contemplation of his crimes, and
particularly by reflecting on the murder of Mr Cruikshanks, Cook
went to St Albans, where he assumed a new name, and worked as a
journeyman shoemaker for about three weeks, when, a
highwayman being pursued through the town, the terrors of his
conscience on the occasion were such, that he hastily left the shop
and ran across the country towards Woburn, in Bedfordshire. On 
his way to Woburn he robbed a farmer of fifty pounds and his
horse, and bade him sue the county. The farmer soon raised the
hue-and-cry; but Cook escaped, and, riding as far as Birmingham,
took lodgings at a public-house, and disposed of his horse. Cook
had now taken the name of Stevens, and the landlord of the house
where he lodged telling him that there was a shop to let, he took it,
and entered into business as a shoemaker. He now hired one Mrs
Barrett as his housekeeper, but she soon became his more intimate
companion; and accompanying him to horse-races, and other
places of public diversion, his little money was soon dissipated.
Thus situated, he told his housekeeper that he had an aunt in
Hertfordshire, who allowed him a hundred per annum, which he
received in quarterly payments; and that he would go to her for his
money. Under this pretence he left her, and went to Northampton,
and from thence to Dunstable, near which place he robbed a farmer
of his horse and sixteen pounds, and then rode to Daventry.

At this last place he met with a Manchester dealer going
home from London, and, having spent the evening together, they
travelled in company next day and dined at Coventry. Cook,
having an intention of robbing his fellow-traveller, intimated that it
would be proper to conceal their money, as they had a dangerous
road to travel; and, putting his own money into his boot, the other
put a purse of gold into his side-pocket. Prosecuting their journey
till they came to a cross-road, Cook demanded his companion's
money, on pain of immediate death; and having robbed him of
thirty-five guineas he travelled immediately to Birmingham; so
Mrs Barrett imagined he had been supplied by his aunt, agreeable
to the story he had told her.

He now carried on trade as usual; but as often as he was
distressed for cash he used to have recourse to the road, and
recruited his pockets by robbing the stages. At length, a London
trader, coming to Birmingham, asked Cook how long he had lived
there, which terrified him so that he quitted the place, and travelled
towards London, and near Highgate robbed a gentleman, named
Zachary, of his horse and money. On his stolen horse he rode to
Epping Forest on the following day; and, having robbed a
gentleman, returned to London by the way of Stratford, at which
place he spoke to a number of his old acquaintances, but was not
imprudent enough to quit his horse.

Going to a house he had frequented at Newington Green,
he sent for his relation who lived near Shoreditch, who advised
him to make his escape, or he would certainly be taken into
custody. On this he went to Mims; and on his relation visiting him
Cook begged he would sell five watches for him; but the other
declined it, recommending him to dispose of them himself in
London. On the following evening, when it was almost dark, he
rode towards town, and observing a chaise behind him permitted it
to pass, and followed it to the descent of the hill towards
Holloway. There were two gentlemen in the chaise, whose money
Cook demanded; but instead of complying they drove on the faster;
on which he fired and wounded one of them in the arm; but the
report of the pistol bringing some people towards the spot he
galloped off, and went to Mims, his old place of retreat. Coming to
London next day to sell his watches, he was seen in Cheapside by a
woman who knew him, and followed him to Norton Folgate,
where, observing him to go into a public-house, she went and
procured a constable, who took him into custody, and found on
him five watches and about nine pounds in money.

On his examination before a magistrate, Mr Zachary, whom
he had robbed near Highgate, swearing to the identity of his
person, he was committed to Newgate; but not before he had
offered to become evidence against some accomplices he
pretended to have had; but this offer was rejected. He now formed
a scheme to murder the keepers and to make his escape; but, being
detected, he was confined to the cells, and, being brought to his
trial at the Old Bailey, was capitally convicted.

After sentence of death he for some time affected a gaiety
of behaviour; but when the warrant for his execution arrived he
was so struck with the idea of his approaching fate that it
occasioned convulsive fits, and he never afterwards recovered his
health.



JONATHAN BRADFORD
Executed at Oxford for a Murder he had contemplated but did not
commit

JONATHAN BRADFORD kept an inn at the city of
Oxford. A gentleman (Mr Hayes), attended by a man-servant, one
evening put up at Bradford's house, and in the night the former was
found murdered in his bed, and the landlord was apprehended on
suspicion of having committed the crime.

The evidence given against him was to the following effect.
Two gentlemen who had supped with Mr Hayes, and who retired at
the same time to their respective chambers, being alarmed in the
night with a noise in his room, and soon hearing groans as of a
wounded man, got up in order to discover the cause, and found
their landlord, with a dark lantern and a knife in his hand, in a state
of astonishment and horror, over his dying guest, who almost
instantly expired.

On this evidence the jury convicted Bradford, and he was
executed; but the fate of this man may serve as an additional lesson
to jurymen to be extremely guarded in receiving circumstantial
evidence. At a trial at Nisi Prius, and between personal right and
wrong, the jury are often directed by the judge to take into
consideration presumptive evidence where positive proof is
wanting; but in criminal charges, it seldom should, unsupported by
some oral testimony, or ocular demonstration, be sufficient to find
a verdict against the accused.

The facts attending this dreadful tragedy were not fully
brought to light until the deathbed confession of the real murderer,
a time when we must all endeavour to make our peace with God.

Mr Hayes was a man of considerable property, and greatly
respected. He had about him, when his sad destiny led him under
the roof of Bradford, a considerable sum of money. The landlord,
knowing this, determined to murder and rob him. For this horrid
purpose he proceeded with a dark lantern and a carving-knife,
intending to cut the throat of his guest, while yet sleeping; but what
must have been his astonishment and confusion to find his victim
already murdered by a servant!

The wicked and unworthy servant had also contemplated
murdering his master, and had just committed the bloody deed, and
secured his treasure, a moment before the landlord entered for the
same purpose!



JOHN BODKIN, DOMINICK BODKIN AND OTHERS
Executed in Ireland on 26th of March, 1742, for the Murder of
Eleven Persons

OLIVER BODKIN, Esq., was a gentleman who possessed
a good estate near Tuam, in Ireland. He had two sons, by two
wives. The elder son, named John, to whom this narrative chiefly
relates, was sent to Dublin to study the law; and the younger, who
was about seven years of age, remained at home with his parents.
The young student lived in a very dissipated manner at Dublin,
and, soon quitting his studies, came and resided near his father's
place of abode. The father allowed him a certain annual sum for
his support; but, as he lived beyond his allowance, he demanded
further assistance. The father, however, refusing to accede to his
wishes, he determined upon a horrible revenge, and included his
stepmother in his proposed scheme of vengeance, as he imagined
that she had induced his father to refuse him any further aid.

Having engaged his cousin, Dominick Bodkin, his father's
shepherd, John Hogan, and another ruffian of the name of Burke,
to assist him in the intended murders, they went to the house of Mr
Bodkin, senior, whose household consisted of four men and three
women servants, exclusive of Mrs Bodkin and the younger son,
and a gentleman named Lynch, who was at that time on a visit
there. They found all the members of the family at supper on their
arrival, and, having murdered them, they went into the kitchen,
where they killed three servant-maids; and, finding the men in
different parts of the house, they also sacrificed them to their brutal
and unprovoked rage. The murder of eleven persons being thus
perpetrated, they quitted the fatal spot; and when some persons
from Tuam came the next morning to speak with Mr Bodkin on
business they found the house open, and beheld the dead body of
Mr Lynch, near which lay that of Mrs Bodkin, hacked and
mangled in a shocking manner; and, at a small distance, her
husband, with his throat cut, and the child lying dead across his
breast. The throats of the maid-servants in the kitchen were all cut;
and the men-servants in another room were also found murdered.
The assassins had even been so wanton in their cruelties as to kill
all the dogs and cats in the house. The neighbours being alarmed
by such a singular instance of barbarity, a suspicion fell on John
Bodkin; who, being taken into custody, confessed all the tragical
circumstances above mentioned, and impeached his accomplices:
on which the other offenders were taken into custody, and all of
them were committed to the jail of Tuam.

When they were brought to trial John Bodkin (the
parricide), Dominick Bodkin and John Hogan pleaded guilty, and
they were all condemned and executed at Tuam, on the 26th of
March, 1742. The head of the shepherd was fixed on Tuam
market-house, and the bodies of the others gibbeted within sight of
the house where the murders had been committed.



THOMAS LYELL AND LAWRENCE SYDNEY
Swindlers, who cheated with Loaded Dice and were pilloried for
Fraud, 2nd of June, 1742

IN April, 1740, these pests to society were committed to
Newgate, charged on the oaths of several gentlemen of distinction,
with cheating and defrauding them with false and loaded dice at
the masquerade, on Thursday morning, about three o'clock, to the
amount of four hundred pounds.

It also appeared, on their examination, which lasted from
six o'clock in the morning till three in the afternoon, that they had
cheated a number of other gentlemen of upward of four thousand
pounds more. Nine pairs of dice were found upon the sharpers, and
on being cut asunder they were all, except one, loaded --that is, to
introduce a piece of lead in a direction into the die which, when
thrown, will generally turn a number suited to the owner's game.

They were brought to the bar of the Old Bailey for these
infamous practices, and after a long trial, in which such scenes of
iniquity were discovered to have been committed by sharpers of
this description as astonished the Court and jury, Lyell and Sydney
were found guilty, and sentenced to be imprisoned one year, and
during that time to be pilloried.

On the 12th of June, 1742, above two years after, Thomas
Lyell and Lawrence Sydney, the principals of the gang, were
brought out of Newgate and carried to the Haymarket, where a
pillory had been erected to receive them, facing the Opera House --
the scene of their depredation -- amid the scoffs and taunts of an
enraged populace.

The following evidence given in the Court of King's Bench,
the 29th of November, 1796, will discover some of the tricks of
this description of swindlers.

A cause came on before Lord Chief Justice Kenyon, on the
statute against gaming, and one John Shepherd being called as a
witness for the injured party, he swore that he saw hazard played at
the gaming-house of the defendant in Leicester Street. Every
person who was three times successful, paid the defendant a silver
medal, which he purchased from him, on entering the house, at
eight for a guinea, and he received six or seven of these in the
course of an hour for the Box Hands, as it was called. The people
who frequented this house always played for a considerable sum.
Sometimes twenty or thirty pounds depended on a single throw of
the dice. The witness remembered being once at the defendant's
gaming-house, about three or four o'clock in the morning, when a
gentleman came in very much in liquor. He seemed to have a great
deal of money about him. The defendant said he had not intended
to play, but now he would set to with this fellow. He then scraped a
little wax with his finger off one of the candles, and put the dice
together, so that they came seven every way. After doing this, he
dropped them into the box and threw them out, and afterwards
drew all the money away, saying he had won it. Seven was the
main and he could not throw anything but seven. The young
gentleman said he had not given him time to bar. A dispute arose
between the defendant and him; it was referred to two or three
persons round the table, and they gave it in favour of the
defendant. The gentleman said be had lost upward of seventy
pounds. The defendant said: "We have cleared him." The witness
had seen a man pawn his watch and ring, in several instances, and
once he saw a man pawn his coat and go away without it.

After the gaming-table was broken by the Bow Street
officers, the defendant said it was too good a thing to be given up,
and instantly got another table, large enough for twenty or thirty
people. The frequenters of this house used to play till daylight, and
on one or two occasions they played all the next day. This is what
the defendant called "sticking to it rarely." The guests were
furnished with wine and suppers gratis, from the funds of the
partnership, in abundance. Sunday was a grand day. The witness
had seen more than forty people there at a time. The table not
being sufficient for the whole, half-a-crown used on such
occasions to be given for a seat, and those behind looked over the
backs of the others and betted.

The person above mentioned (whose name was Smith) who
pawned his coat corroborated the above evidence; and added that
he had seen a person, after he had lost all his money, throw off his
coat, and go away, losing it also.



ROBERT RAMSEY
Highwayman, and a singular Cheat. Executed at Tyburn on the
13th of June, 1742
THIS offender was born near Grosvenor Square, and apprenticed
to an apothecary, after being liberally educated at Westminster
School. His master's circumstances becoming embarrassed,
Ramsey left him and went into the service of another gentleman of
the same profession.

He then became a professed gamester. The billiard and
hazard tables engrossed his time, and his skill being great he often
stripped his companions; yet the money he thus obtained he
dissipated in the most extravagant manner.

Having made an acquaintance with one Carr, they singled
out a clergyman who frequented the coffee-house they used as a
proper object to impose upon; and having ingratiated themselves
into his good opinion, Ramsey took the opportunity of Carr's
absence to tell the clergyman that he had a secret of the utmost
consequence to impart; and the clergyman having promised
secrecy, the other said that Carr was in love with a young widow,
who was very rich and inclined to marry him, but that the match
was opposed by her relations.

He added that the lady herself was averse to being married
at the Fleet, even if she could escape the vigilance of her relations
so far as to reach that place. The clergyman listening to the story,
Ramsey offered him twenty guineas to marry the young couple,
and it was agreed that the parties should meet at a tavern near the
Royal Exchange on the following day.

Ramsey, having told Carr what had passed, went to the
clergyman the next morning, and, observing that if the lady took
her own footman he might be known, said he would disguise
himself in livery and attend the priest. This being done, a hackney-
coach was called for the clergyman, and, Ramsey getting up
behind it, they drove to the tavern, where rich wines were called
for, of which Ramsey urged the clergyman to drink so freely that
he fell asleep, when Ramsey picked his pocket of his keys.

The gentleman, awaking, inquired for the couple that were
to be married, on which Ramsey, calling for more wine, said he
would go in search of them; but immediately calling a coach he
went to the clergyman's lodgings and, producing the keys, said he 
had been sent by the gentleman for some papers in his cabinet. The
landlady of the house, seeing the keys, permitted him to search for
what he wanted; on which he stole a diamond ring, of the value of
forty pounds, and about a hundred pounds in money, and carried
off some papers.

This being done he returned to the clergyman, said that the
young couple would attend in a short time, and desired him to
order a genteel dinner; but this last injunction was unnecessary, for
the parson had taken previous care of it; and while he was at dinner
Ramsey said he would go and order a diamond and a plain ring,
and would return immediately.

He had not been long absent when a jeweller brought the
rings, which he said were for a baronet and his lady, who were
coming to be married. The clergyman asked him to drink the
healths of the young couple; and just at this juncture Ramsey came
in and told the jeweller that he was instantly wanted at home, but
that he must return without loss of time, as his master's arrival was
immediately expected.

The jeweller was no sooner gone than Ramsey, taking up
the diamond ring, said that he had brought a wrong one, and he
would go back and rectify the mistake. In the interim the jeweller,
finding that he had not been wanted at home, began to suspect that
some undue artifice had been used; on which he hurried to the
tavern, and thought himself happy to find that the parson had not
decamped.

Having privately directed the waiter to procure a constable
he charged the clergyman with defrauding him of the rings. The
other was naturally astonished at such a charge; but the jeweller
insisted on taking him before a magistrate, where he related a tale
that, some days before, those rings had been ordered by a man
whom he supposed to be an accomplice of the person now charged.
But the clergyman, being a man of fair character, sent for some
reputable people to bail him; while the jeweller returned home,
cursing his ill fortune for the trick that had been put on him.

London being an unsafe place for Ramsey longer to reside
in, he went to Chester, where he assumed the name of Johnson,
dressed himself as a physician, and printed and dispersed
handbills, giving an account of many patients whose disorders had
yielded to his skill. By promising to cure the poor without expense,
no person doubted either the character or abilities of Dr Johnson.

A young lady who was troubled with an asthma became
one of his patients; and Ramsey, presuming that she possessed a
good fortune, insinuated himself so far into her good graces that
she would have married him, but that her uncle, in whose hands
her money was, happened to come to Chester at that juncture.

During this situation of affairs, while Ramsey was walking
without the city, he happened to see the clergyman whom he had
so much injured in London; on which he hastily retired to a public-
house in Chester, and sent a person to Park Gate, to inquire when
any ship would sail for Ireland: and the answer brought was that a
vessel would sail that very night.

On receiving this intelligence, Ramsey went and drank tea
with the young lady; and taking the opportunity of her absence
from the room he opened a drawer, whence he took a diamond ring
and fifty guineas out of eighty which were in a bag.

He then went to Dublin, and later came to the metropolis,
where he found his younger brother, who had likewise supported
himself by acts of dishonesty; and the two brothers agreed to act in
concert. Having taken a previous survey of Mr Glyn's house, at the
corner of Hatton Garden, the brothers broke into it in the night, and
carried off a quantity of plate; but, handbills being immediately
circulated, they were taken into custody while offering the plate for
sale to a Jew in Duke's Place. The Lord Mayor, on examining the
prisoners, admitted the younger brother an evidence against the
elder.

At the next sessions at the Old Bailey it was an affecting
scene to behold the one brother giving evidence against the other,
who was capitally convicted and received sentence of death. At the
place of execution Ramsey made an affecting address to the
surrounding multitude; entreating the younger part of the audience
to avoid gaming, as what would infallibly lead to destruction.

After the customary devotions on such melancholy
occasions he was turned off, and the body, having hung the usual
time, was conveyed in a hearse to Giltspur Street, and decently
interred by his friends.


JOHN JENNINGS
Executed at York, in the year 1742, on a charge of robbery, of which he
was innocent.

 THIS unfortunate man was the victim of his master, in order to
screen himself from the vengeance of the law. He was a waiter at the
Bell Inn, near Hull, in Yorkshire, kept by a villain of the name of
James Brunel.

 A robbery, had lately been committed on the highway, on an old
man, a reputed miser; and who, for greater safety, generally carried a
bag of gold about him. The old man, soon after being robbed, casually
went into the Bell; and going up to the bar, saw Brunel, the landlord,
with one of his guineas in his hand, and some shillings, which he was,
paying away to a carrier, which were all marked, so that he could
identify them. He consequently suspected that the landlord was the
robber, and related the circumstance to some other persons in the
house.

 Brunel overheard the conversation, and to secure himself,
instantly formed and executed a design to impute the robbery to his
waiter, Jennings, who had gone early to sleep, in a state of
intoxication. To this wicked end, he went to his bed, and put the
purse, taken from the old man, with the greater part of its contents,
in the unfortunate man's pocket, without waking him; and then coming
down to the company, told them, that he believed he had found the
thief. "I have," continued the villain, "long suspected Jennings, one
of my waiters, and about five hours ago I gave him a guinea to get
changed; he same back in liquor, and returned me a guinea, which I am
sure is not the same which I gave him." He then produced the guinea,
which being marked, was claimed by the old man. It was now proposed
that Jennings should be searched, which was done, and the purse being
found upon him, he was committed, tried, condemned, and executed.

 Brunel, being convicted of another, robbery, confessed these
facts.


ROBERT FULLER
Convicted of shooting Mr Bailey, June Sessions, 1743, and
pardoned because he was wrongly identified

AT the sessions held at the Old Bailey in the month of
May, 1743, Robert Fuller, of Harefield, in Middlesex, was indicted
for shooting at Francis Bailey, with a gun loaded with powder and
small stones, and demanding his money, with intent to rob him.

Mr Bailey deposed that, as he was returning from Uxbridge
Market, he saw a man near Harefield sitting on a stile, having a
gun in his hand; that he jumped off the stile, seized the horse's
bridle, clapped the gun to Mr Bailey's body, and threatened to
shoot him. Mr Bailey said: "That will do you no good, nor me
neither." He then put his hand repeatedly into Bailey's pocket; but
the latter would not submit to be robbed, and rode off. Immediately
on which, Fuller shot at him, and wounded him in the right arm, so
as to break the bone in splinters; and many stones, and bits of the
bone, were afterwards taken out of the arm: nor did the prosecutor
recover of the wound till after languishing nearly twenty weeks.
The prisoner, however, had not an opportunity of robbing Mr
Bailey, as his horse took fright and ran away at the report of the
gun.

The substance of Mr Bailey's further deposition was, that
this happened about seven o'clock in the evening, on the 24th of
February; but that, as it was a clear starlight night, he had a full
view of the prisoner, whom he had known before.

Bailey was now asked if he had ever been examined before
any Justice of the Peace in relation to the fact; to which he
answered in the negative. He was then asked if he had never
charged the crime on any other person except the prisoner, which
he steadily denied having done.

In contradiction to which, a commitment was produced, in
which Thomas Bowry was charged with assaulting Francis Bailey,
with an intent to rob, and this Bowry was continued in custody, on
the affidavit of Mr Mellish, a surgeon, that Mr Bailey was so ill of
the wounds he had received that he could not come to London
without danger of his life, but Bowry was discharged at the jail
delivery at the end of the sessions for June, 1743.

The copy of Bowry's commitment was now read, and
authenticated by Richard Akerman, clerk of the papers to his
father, and then keeper of Newgate.

On this contradictory evidence the characters of both
parties were inquired into, when that of the prosecutor appeared to
be very fair, that of the prisoner rather doubtful.

Upon considering the whole matter, the jury gave a verdict
that he was guilty, but on account of the circumstance above
mentioned, relating to the commitment of Bowry for the same
offence, on Bailey's oath, they recommended the prisoner in the
court as a proper object of the Royal clemency, and he was
accordingly pardoned.

This affair is one ot that intricate nature, which must
remain involved in mystery. It is impossible for us to say whether
the prosecutor was, or was not, mistaken in the man against whom
he swore; but we see that he had sworn the same fact, with equal
positiveness, against Bowry: and this circumstance evinces the
great propriety of the jury recommending the convict to mercy,
where there is even but a bare probability remaining of his
innocence. In doubtful cases we should always incline to the side
of mercy; and it ought to be remembered, to the credit of the court
at the Old Bailey, that this rule is constantly attended to; and it is a
known fact, that persons charged with capital offences have been
frequently heard to declare, that they would rather take their trials
at the Old Bailey, than in any other court in the kingdom.

On this occasion it may not be improper to make a remark
on the immense power that is lodged in the breasts of our judges
who go the circuits. A great deal of this power is discretionary: it
remains with then to reprieve the convict, or to leave him for
execution: an awful trust which makes the possessor of it
accountable to God and his own conscience. We have no idea but
that all the present judges exert their power in the mildest manner:
but times have been, when magistrates have wantonly sported with
their authority, to the destruction of the innocent, and the eternal
disgrace of themselves.

This circumstance should hold forth a lesson of caution,
never to trust the authority of a judge but with a man distinguished
equally by his knowledge, integrity, and humanity.



WILLIAM CHETWYND
A Curious Case of a Schoolboy who killed another Boy during a
Quarrel about a Cake, and was convicted of Manslaughter,
October, 1743

THIS unfortunate young gentleman was placed at the
academy in Soho Square, and at the same school was a youth
named Thomas Rickets, then in the nineteenth year of his age.

At the sessions held in the Old Bailey in October, 1743, the
above-named William Chetwynd, who was fifteen years of age,
was indicted for the murder of Thomas Rickets, and was likewise
indicted on the statute of stabbing.

Mr Chetwynd being in possession of a piece of cake,
Rickets asked him for some of it, on which he gave him a small
piece; but refusing to give him a second, which he desired, he cut
off a piece for himself, and laid it on a bureau, while he went to
lock up the chief part of the cake for his own use. In the interim
Rickets took the cake which had been left on the bureau, and when
Chetwynd returned and demanded it he refused to deliver it; on
which a dispute arose, and Chetwynd, having still in his hand the
knife with which he had cut the cake, wounded the other in the left
side of the belly.

Hannah Humphreys, a servant in the house, coming at that
time into the room, Rickets said that he was stabbed, and
complained much of the pain that he felt from the wound. On
which Humphreys said to Chetwynd: "You have done very well";
to which the latter replied: "If I have hurt him, I am very sorry for
it."

The wounded youth, being carried to bed, languished three
days under the hands of the surgeons, and then expired. In the
interim Chetwynd, terrified at what had happened, quitted the
school; but as soon as he heard of the death of Rickets he went to a
magistrate, to abide the equitable decision of a verdict of his
countrymen; and he was brought to his trial at the time and place
above mentioned.

The counsel on behalf of the prisoner acknowledged the
great candour of the gentlemen who were concerned for the
prosecution, in their not endeavouring to aggravate the
circumstances attending the offence. They also confessed the truth
of all that had been sworn by the witnesses; but they insisted, on
behalf of the accused party, that though his hand might have made
an unhappy blow, his heart was innocent.

The following is the substance of their arguments on the
case: They said that the fact could not amount to murder at
common law, which Lord Coke defines to be "an unlawful killing
another man aforethought," either expressed by the party, or
implied by the law. They said, that in this case, there was not the
least malice, as the young gentlemen were friends, not only at the
time, but to the close of Ricket's life, when he declared that he
forgave the other.

They said, that it being proved that there was a friendship
subsisting, it would be talking against the sense of mankind to say
the law could imply any thing contrary to what was plainly proved.
That deliberation and cruelty of disposition, make the essential
difference between manslaughter and murder; and they quoted
several legal authorities in support of this doctrine.

One of their arguments was urged in the following words:

"Shall the young boy at the bar, who was doing a lawful
act, be said to be guilty of murder? He was rescuing what was his
own: the witnesses have told you, that after he had given Rickets a
piece of cake, Rickets went to him for more; he denied to give it
him, he had a right to keep his cake, and the other had no right to
take it: and he had a right to retake it." There are cases in the books
which make a difference between murder and manslaughter. If a
man takes up a bar of iron, and throws it at another, it is murder:
and the difference in the crime lies between the person's taking it
up, and having it in his hand. Chetwynd had the knife in his hand,
and upon that a provocation ensues, for he did not take the knife
up; if he had, that would have shown an intention to do mischief. It
may be doubted, whether or no when he had this knife in his hand
for a lawful purpose, and in an instant struck the other, he
considered he had the knife in his hand; for if in his passion he
intended to strike with his hand, it is not a striking with the knife.

"At the beginning of the fray, Rickets had a knife in his
hand; and it was one continued act. And another question is,
whether there was not a struggle; here was the cake taken, and in
endeavouring to get it again, this accident happens; at the first
taking of the cake, it is in evidence, that Chetwynd was not forced
to extend his arms, unless the other was coming to take it from
him, and then a struggle is a blow.

"The counsel for the crown, submitted it to the court,
whether (since the only points insisted on by way of defence for
the prisoner, were questions at law, in which the jury were to be
guided by their opinion,) the facts proved and admitted did not
clearly, in the first place, amount to murder at common law; and in
the second place, whether there could be the least doubt in point of
law, but that the case was within the statute of 1 James I.

"Upon the first it was admitted, that to constitute murder
there must be malice.

"But it was argued, that malice was of two kinds, either
expressed and in fact, or implied by law.

"But when one person kills another without provocation, it
is murder, because the law presumes and implies malice from the
act done. And therefore, whenever any person kills another it is
murder, unless some sufficient provocation appear. But it is not
every provocation that extenuates the killing of a man from murder
into manslaughter. A slight or trivial provocation is the same as
none, and is not allowed in law to be any justification or excuse for
the death of another. And therefore no words of reproach or
infamy, whatever provoking circumstances they may be attended
with; no affronting gestures, or deriding postures, however insolent
or malicious, are allowed to be put in balance with the life of a
man, and to extenuate the offence from murder to manslaughter.

"Applying the rules of law to the present case, it was plain,
that the violent act done, bore no proportion to the provocation. All
the provocation given was taking up a piece of cake, which is not
such an offence, as can justify the prisoner's attacking the person
who took it up, with an instrument, that apparently endangered his
life, or rather carried certain death along with it.

"Mr Rickets was stabbed, having then no weapon drawn in
his hand, and not having before struck the person who stabbed
him. It is plainly within the intention; which is declared in the
preamble to have been in order to punish stabbing or killing upon
the sudden, committed in rage, or any other passion of the mind,
&c. and therefore it was submitted to the court, whether upon the
facts proved and not denied, the consequence of the law was not
clear that the prisoner was guilty within both indictments."

Mr Baron Reynolds and Mr Recorder, before whom the
prisoner was tried, taking notice of the points of law that had
arisen, the learned arguments of the counsel, and the many cases
cited upon this occasion, were of opinion that it would be proper to
have the facts found specially.

A special verdict was accordingly agreed on by all parties,
and drawn up in the usual manner -- viz. by giving a true state of
the facts as they appeared in evidence, and concluding thus: "We
find that the deceased was about the age of nineteen, and Mr
Chetwynd about the age of fifteen; and that of this wound the
deceased died on the 29th of the said September; but whether,
upon the whole, the prisoner is guilty of all or any of the said
indictment, the jurors submit to the judgment of the Court."

In consequence of this special verdict the case was argued
before the twelve judges, who deemed Chetwynd to have been
guilty of manslaughter only; whereupon he was set at liberty, after
being burned in the hand.



LYDIA ADLER
Burned in the Hand for killing her Husband, who had four Wives.

THIS woman was tried at the Old Bailey, at the sessions
held in June, 1744, for the wilful murder of her husband, John
Adler, by throwing him on the ground, kicking and stamping on
his groin, and giving him thereby a mortal bruise, of which he
languished in St Bartholomew's Hospital from the 11th till the 23rd
of May, and then died; and she was again indicted on the coroner's
inquest for manslaughter.

Hannah Adler, daughter of the deceased, swore that he told
her that his wife had given him the wounds which afterwards
occasioned his death.

Benjamin Barton deposed that the deceased came to him,
on the 11th of May, with a bloody handkerchief about his head,
and asked him for a spare bed, saying: "This infernal fiend
[meaning his wife] will be the death of me." But Barton, knowing
the woman to be of a very turbulent disposition, refused to lodge
the man. After this he visited him every other day during his
illness, and he very often said: "I wish, Mr Barton, you would be
so good as to get a warrant to secure this woman, for she will be
the death of me"; and two hours before he died he inquired if such
a warrant was procured; and desired that Barton would see her
brought to justice, which he promised he would, if it lay in his
power.

Hannah Adler, being further questioned, said that her father
died between twelve and one o'clock; that about two hours and a
half before he said: "I am a dead man, and this lady [the prisoner]
has killed me." That after this he repeatedly declared that his wife
was the person that had murdered him, and begged that she might
be brought to justice. His last declaration was made only about ten
minutes before he died.

Mr Godman, a surgeon, deposed that the husband died of a
mortification, occasioned by a blow; but acknowledged that the
deceased had a rupture, and that such a blow as he had received
would not have hurt a person in sound health.

The prisoner in her defence said that her husband had two
wives besides her; and that a quarrel happening between her and
one of the wives, the husband endeavoured to part them, and in so
doing fell down, and the other woman fell on him; but that she
herself never lifted hand or foot against him.

Joseph Steel deposed that the deceased had had four wives;
that he was kind to them all at the first, but afterwards used to beat
them severely; and that he had seen the prisoner and her husband
frequently fight together.

The jury gave a verdict of manslaughter; in consequence of
which she was burned in the hand.



PATRICK BOURKE AND GEORGE ELLIS
Executed at Tyburn, 20th of February, 1745, for Sheep-Stealing

BY an Act of Parliament passed in the fourteenth year of
the reign of King George II., for the security of farmers and
graziers, it is thus enacted:

"If any person or persons, after the first day of May, 1741,
shall feloniously drive away or in any manner feloniously steal any
sheep, or shall wilfully kill one or more sheep, with intent to steal
the whole or any part of the carcasses, the person or persons so
offending shall suffer death, without benefit of clergy."

This law denounces the punishment of death to any person
offending against it, and though the crime is frequently committed,
few are executed for sheep-stealing, as the law is seldom put in
force owing to the humanity of the judges or the prosecutors, who
probably consider that the offence is committed in consequence of
the calls of hunger, and dread of starving. The offence of these
men were not however of that description, as they destroyed whole
flocks, in order to get possession of the fat, and deserved as severe
a punishment as any other robbers.

Patrick Bourke and George Ellis were indicted at the
sessions held at the Old Bailey in December, 1744, for killing
fifteen ewe sheep, the property of John Messenger, of Kensington,
with intention to steal part of the carcasses -- to wit, the fat near the
kidneys.

Mr Messenger deposed that he had lost fifteen ewes; that
their throats were cut, their bellies ripped open, and the fat taken
out; and likewise said that he had lost twenty-seven lambs, which
were taken out of those ewes; and he deposed that the prisoners
both confessed the crime before Sir Thomas Devil on the Tuesday
following; and that Bourke acknowledged they sold the fat to a
tallow-chandler, for forty-one shillings and twopence-halfpenny.

Richard Twyford proved the finding the sheep ripped open,
and the fat taken out; and that the lambs were dragging by the sides
of them: and swore that the prisoners had owned the taking the
gates from the farm to pen the sheep up.

Joseph Agnew, a constable, swore that Ellis came to him;
and after having told him of a quarrel between him and Bourke,
who had given him two black eyes, he acknowledged that he had
been concerned with him in the commission of the crime above-
mentioned. Hereupon the constable took with him three watchmen,
and going to Bourke's lodgings, seized him in bed, and found a
clasp-knife, laying on the ground near the feet of the bed, on which
was some fat, which likewise remained when the knife was
produced in court on the trial.

Bourke, in his defence, said that he was kept drunk by the
constable in order to induce him to make a confession, but this not
being credited by the jury, and there being other proofs of the fact
having been acknowledged, they were capitally convicted, and
received sentence of death. They were hanged at Tyburn, on 20th
of February, 1745.

At the summer assizes in 1757, for the county of Lincoln, a
deaf and dumb man, called Matthew Pullen, was indicted for
sheep-stealing. The court ordered a jury to be impanelled, not to
try him for larceny, but to inquire whether he stood mute by the act
of Providence, or through obstinacy. It was proved by his father-in-
law, and some neighbours, that from his infancy he was deaf and
dumb, and the jury therefore brought in their verdict, 'that he stood
mute by the act of God,' and he was discharged in gaol delivery.

There being no punishment for the deaf and dumb, any
more than for those that are proved non compos mentis, the actions
of both ought to be kept under restraint. This deaf and dumb sheep-
stealer, must certainly have been conscious that he was doing
wrong when he stole his neighbour's sheep, and it seems
unreasonable that he should escape without some punishment, as
such a precedent may prove very injurious in its consequences, for
it implies that any person who is deaf and dumb is at liberty to
steal sheep with impunity.



MARTHA TRACY
Executed for a Street Robbery

THE melancholy fate of this unfortunate woman is another
instance of the misery occasioned by that licentiousness, which is
of all vices the most destructive of the happiness of females, and so
disgraceful to the British metropolis.

This much injured woman was a native of Bristol, and
descended from poor parents, who educated her in the best manner
in their power. Getting a place in the service of a merchant when
she was sixteen years of age, she lived with him three years, and
then came to London.

Having procured a place in a house where lodgings were let
to single gentlemen, and being a girl of an elegant appearance, and
fond of dress, she was liable to a variety of temptations.

Her vanity being even more than equal to her beauty, she at
length conceived that she had made a conquest of one of the
gentlemen-lodgers, and was foolish enough to think he would
marry her.

With a view of keeping alive the passion she thought she
had inspired, she sought every pretence of going into his chamber;
and he, having some designs against her virtue, purchased her
some new clothes, in which she went to church on the following
Sunday, where she was observed by her mistress.

On their return from church, the mistress strictly inquired
how she came to be possessed of such fine clothes; and, having
learnt the real state of the case, she was discharged from her
service on the Monday morning.

As she still thought the gentleman intended marriage, she
wrote to him, desiring he would meet her at a public-house; and,
on his attending, she wept incessantly, and complained of the
treatment she had met with from her mistress, which she attributed
to the presents she had received from him.

The seducer advised her to calm her spirits, and go into
lodgings, which he would immediately provide for her, and here he
could securely visit her till the marriage should take place.

Deluded by this artifice, she went that day to lodge at a
house in the Strand, which he said was kept by a lady who was
related to him. In this place he visited her on the following, and
several successive days; attending her to public places, and making
her presents of elegant clothes, which effectually flattered her
vanity, and lulled asleep the small remains of her virtue.

It is needless to say that her ruin followed. After a
connexion of a few months, she found him less frequent in his
visits; and, informing him that she was with child, demanded that
he would make good his promise of marriage: on which he
declared that he had never intended to marry her, and that he
would not maintain her any longer; and hinted that she should seek
another lodging.

On the following day the mistress of the house told her she
must not remain there any longer, unless she would pay for her
lodgings in advance, which being unable to do, or, perhaps,
unwilling to remain in a house where she had been so unworthily
treated, she packed up her effects, and removed to another lodging.

When she was brought to bed, the father took away the
infant, and left the wretched mother in a very distressed situation.
Having subsisted for some time by pawning her clothes, she was at
length so reduced as to listen to the advice of a woman of the town,
who persuaded her to procure a subsistence by the casual wages of
prostitution.

Having embarked in the horrid course of life, she soon
became a common street-walker, and experienced all those
calamities incident to so deplorable a situation. Being sometimes
tempted to pick pockets for a subsistence, she became an
occasional visitor at Bridewell, where her mind grew only the
more corrupt by the conversation of the abandoned wretches
confined in that place.

We now come to speak of the fact, the commission of
which forfeited her life to the violated laws of her country.

At the sessions held at the Old Bailey, in the month of
January, 1745, she was indicted for robbing William Humphreys
of a guinea on the king's highway.

The fact was, that being passing, at midnight, near
Northumberland House, in the Strand, she accosted Mr
Humphreys, who declining to hold any correspondence with her,
two fellows with whom she was connected came up, and one of
them knocking him down, they both ran away; when she robbed
him of a guinea, which she concealed in her mouth; but Mr
Humphreys seizing her, and two persons coming up, she was
conducted to the watch-house, where the guinea was found in her
mouth, as above mentioned, by the constable of the night.

At her trial it was proved that she had called the men, one
of whom knocked down the prosecutor; so that there could be no
doubt of her being an accomplice with them; whereupon the jury
brought her in guilty.

After conviction she appeared to have a proper idea of her
former guilt, and the horrors of her present situation. In fact she
was a sincere penitent, and lamented that pride of heart which had
first seduced her to destruction.

Martha Tracy was hanged at Tyburn, on the 16th of
February, 1745, behaving with the greatest decency and propriety
to the last moment of her life.

The fate of this woman affords a striking lesson to girls
against the taking pride in those personal charms which, the more
brilliant they are, will be only the more likely to lead them to
destruction. The idea she had formed of making a conquest of a
man in a rank of life superior to her own served only to assist
towards her ruin; but we cannot help thinking that he who could be
base enough to seduce her under solemn promises of marriage was
still more guilty than herself, and in some degree an accessory to
all the crimes she afterwards committed.

It seems strangely unnatural that the father should take
away the child, and leave the mother to perish, or to subsist only in
a most infamous manner, for which she had been qualified by the
gratification of his passions!

In the gay hours of festivity men may triumph in the
advantages they have gained over women in their unguarded
moments; but surely reflection must come, with all her attendant
train of horrors. Conscience will assert her rights; and the misery
the wicked seducer suffers in this life he ought to consider only as
a prelude to the more aggravated torments he has to expect in the
next.

If any one of the readers of this narrative has been guilty of
the enormous crime we are now reprobating, it will become him to
think seriously of the great work of reformation; and to repent, in
the most unfeigned manner, while Providence yet permits him the
opportunity of repentance. It ought to be remembered by offenders
of every class, that the God of mercy is also a God of justice.



MATTHEW HENDERSON
Executed in Oxford Street, 25th of February, 1746, for murdering
his Mistress, Lady Dalrymple, who was angry because he trod on
her Toe.

THIS offender was born at North Berwick, in Scotland,
where he was educated in the liberal manner customary in that
country.

Sir Hugh Dalrymple, being a Member of the British
Parliament, took Henderson into his service when fourteen years of
age, and brought him to London. Before he was nineteen years old
he married one of his master's maids; but Sir Hugh, who had a
great regard for him, did not dismiss him, though he was greatly
chagrined at this circumstance.

Some few days before the commission of the murder, Sir
Hugh, having occasion to go out of town for a month, summoned
Henderson to assist in dressing him; and, while he was thus
employed, Sir Hugh's lady going into the room, the servant
casually trod on her toe. She said not a word on the occasion, but
looked at him with a degree of rage that made him extremely
uneasy.

When Sir Hugh had taken his leave she demanded of
Henderson why he had trod on her toe; in answer to which he
made many apologies, and ascribed the circumstance to mere
accident; but she gave him a blow on the ear, and declared that she
would dismiss him from her service.

Henderson said it would be unnecessary to turn him away,
for he would go without compulsion; but, reflecting that her
passion would soon subside, he continued in his place, and was
used with as much kindness as if the accident had not taken place.

Offended by the insult that had been offered him,
Henderson began to consider how he should be revenged and at
length came to the fatal resolution of murdering his mistress.

For the particulars of this barbarous deed we refer to his
confession in Newgate, taken in writing by the ordinary, the day
before his execution.

He said his mother had been dead several years, which he
mentioned with satisfaction because, as she loved him tenderly, he
believed this affair would certainly have broken her heart.

He had lived with his master five years -- about three years
in Scotland and two years in London -- and declared no servant
could be better used than he was, and that he never had the least
dislike to the deceased, for that she was a lady of great humanity,
and greatly respected by all her servants; and his master a most
worthy gentleman. One night Mary Platt, the maid-servant, told
him she would go and see her husband, and he said she might do as
she pleased. She went, and took the key to let herself in again. He
shut the door after her, and went and cleaned some plate in the
kitchen. From thence he went up into the back-parlour, where he
used to lie, and let down his bed, in order to go to sleep. He pulled
off his shoes, and tied up his hair with his garter, and that moment
the thought came into his head to kill his lady. He went downstairs
into the kitchen, took a small iron cleaver, and went up to the first
landing-place on the stairs, and after tarrying a minute or two came
down, shocked at the crime he was about to perpetrate. He went up
again as far as the first window, and the watchman was going --
"past twelve o'clock." After the watchman had passed the door, he
entered the room a second time, went to the bedside, undrew the
curtains, and found she was fast asleep. He went twice from the
bed to the door in great perplexity of mind, the deceased being still
asleep. He continued in great agonies, but soon felt where she lay,
and made twelve or fourteen motions with the cleaver before he
struck her. He repeated his blows, and in struggling she fell out of
bed next the window, and then he thought it was time to put her
out of her misery, and struck her with all his might as she lay on
the floor.

He then went into his bedchamber again, and sat down on
his bed for about ten minutes, when it came into his head to rob the
house. He again went into the deceased's bed-chamber, and took
her pockets as they were hanging on the chair, and took a gold
watch and two diamond rings out of the drawers, with several other
things.

He was executed in Oxford Street, on 25th February, 1746.



MARY HAMILTON
A Woman who was imprisoned and whipped for marrying
Fourteen Women, 1746

POLYGAMY, or a man marrying two or more wives --
and, vice versa, a woman marrying two or more husbands -- is a
crime frequently committed; but a woman marrying a woman
according to the rites of the Established Church is something
strange and unnatural. Yet did this woman, under the outward garb
of a man, marry fourteen of her own sex!

At the Quarter Sessions held at Taunton, in Somersetshire,
this woman was brought before the Court; but under what specific
charge, or upon what penal statute she was indicted, we can neither
trace by the mention of the circumstance, nor could we frame an
indictment to meet the gross offence, because the law never
contemplated a marriage among women. She was, however, tried,
whether or not her case might have been cognisable, and Mary
Price, the fourteenth wife, appeared in evidence (in such a case as
this we must be pardoned for ambiguity) against her female
husband.

She swore that she was lawfully married to the prisoner,
and that they bedded and lived together as man and wife for more
than a quarter of a year; during all which time, so well did the
impostor assume the character of man, she still actually believed
she had married a fellow-creature of the right and proper sex.

The learned quorum of justices thus delivered their verdict:
"That the he or she prisoner at the bar is an uncommon, notorious
cheat, and we, the Court, do sentence her, or him, whichever he or
she may be, to be imprisoned six months, and during that time to
be whipped in the towns of Taunton, Glastonbury, Wells and
Shepton Mallet, and to find security for good behaviour as long as
they, the learned justices aforesaid, shall or may, in their wisdom
and judgment, require." And Mary, the monopoliser of her own
sex, was imprisoned and whipped accordingly, in the severity of
the winter of the year 1746.


THE SECOND REBELLION OF THE PRETENDER TO THE BRITISH THRONE
in the year 1745.

"Whatever private views and passions plead,
NO cause can justify so black a deed;
These, when the angry 'tempest clouds the soul,
May darken reason, and her course controul;
But when the prospect clears, her startled eye
Must, from the treacherous gulph, with horror fly,
On whose wide wave, by stormy passions tost,
So many hapless wretches have been lost. 
Then be this truth the star by which we steer,
Above ourselves, our COUNTRY should be dear."
 THOMSON.

 THE same pretext used to foment a discontent to the reigning
family, and to set up the standard of the House of Stuart, again burst
forth at this period of time, with a much more serious aspect than the
rebellion of 171 5. Having already given an account of the rise and
quelling of that public revolt, to which we again refer our reader, we
shall proceed to a more ample history of that, now before us -- the
most remarkable circumstance that had happened for some centuries.

 When England was now attacked, by the disaffected Scotchmen, she
was involved in an expensive war with her ancient enemy, France. Her
armies were fighting under the Duke of Cumberland, in Germany, and her
fleets sufficiently employed in watching the motions of their enemy.
King George, tho' then seated on the English throne, in one part of
this war, in person commanded his army, and won the celebrated battle
of Dettington, where he evinced much personal courage. When the
rebellion broke out in Scotland, the King was on a visit to his
dominions in Hanover.

 The French, being at war, with Britain, thought the time
favourable to wound its internal peace, by espousing the cause of the
Pretender. Not that they cared about him or his pretence to the crown,
but he appeared an excellent instrument for that purpose. The very same
policy they adopted when Britain was at war with her rebellious
colonies in America. The French assisted them, not from affection, but
through them to wound the crown, under which they had been fostered for
so many years.

 That government was not apprised of the preparations making to
assist the Pretender, is evident from the King's speech on the 2d of
May, 1745, the very time, they were going on, wherein he informs his
parliament, "that the posture of affairs abroad had received a very
considerable alteration, to the advantage of the common cause, and that
thereby the influence of France was much weakened and diminished, and a
way opened to restore that strength and power to our ancient and
natural allies, which would tend greatly to the re-establishment and
security of the balance of Europe." On the 10th, the King, having
placed the government of the nation in the hands of John, Lord
Archbishop of Canterbury, and nineteen other Privy Counsellors, he 
embarked at Harwich, on a visit to Hanover.

 The first notice which the British public had of the, proceedings
of the, Pretender, was from a paragraph in the General Evening Post,
which said, "The Pretender's eldest son put to sea, July 14, from
France, in an armed ship of sixty guns, provided with a large quantity
of war-like stores, together with a frigate of thirty guns, and a
number of smaller armed vessels, in order to land in Scotland, where he
expected to find twenty thousand men in arms, to make good his,
pretensions to the crown of Great Britain. He was to be joined by five
ships of the line from Brest, and 4,500 Spaniards were embarking at
Ferrol."

 Through different channels this news was confirmed, and the
nation thrown into the utmost alarm. King George II. on being apprised
of it, instantly prepared to return, and arrived in London on the 31st
of August, amid the acclamations of his loyal subjects, and a discharge
of artillery. The Park and Tower guns had fired only a week before, on
the taking of Cape Breton.

 The Pretender, followed by about fifty Scotch and Irish
adventurers, came incog. through Normandy, and on the 18th of July
embarked on board a ship of war of 18 guns, which was joined off
Belleisle by the Elizabeth and other ships. They intended to have
sailed north about, and land in Scotland. On the 20th they came up with
an English fleet of merchant vessels, under convoy of the Lion man of
war, of 58 guns, commanded by Captain Brett, who immediately bore down
upon the French line-of-battle ship, which he engaged within pistol
shot five hours, and was constantly annoyed by the smaller ships of the
enemy. The rigging of the Lion was cut to pieces; her mizen-mast,
mizen-top-mast, main-yard, and foretop-sail, were shot away; all her
lower-masts and top-masts shot through in many places, so that she lay
muzzled in the sea, and could do nothing with her sails. Thus situated,
the French ships sheered off, and the Lion could make no effort to
follow them. Captain Brett had forty-five men killed; himself, all his
lieutenants, the master, several midshipmen, and one hundred and seven
foremast men wounded. His principal antagonist, the Elizabeth; with
difficulty got back to Brest, quite disabled, and had sixty-four men
killed, one hundred and thirty-nine dangerously wounded, and a number
more slightly. She had on board 400,000l. sterling, and arms and
ammunition for several thousand men.

 The French court, the expedition thus miscarrying, pretended
ignorance of the circumstance.

 Meanwhile, the Camerons, the Macdonalds, and many other clans,
were in arms, in expectation of their friends from France. They came
down into. the low-lands in parties, and carried off, by force, many
men to fill their ranks, and committed various disorders.

 The Pretender having embarked in another ship, again sailed from
France, and eluded the English cruisers, so as to give him an
opportunity of landing, which he effected with his followers, on the
Isle of Sky, opposite to Lochaber, in the county of Inverness, about
the end of. the, month of July, and took up his residence at the house
of a Papist priest, with whom he remained three weeks, while his
emissaries were raising men for his service. At length at the head of
about two thousand he began his, march-under a standard, on which was
the motto "TANDEM TRIUMPHANS." -- "At length triumphant."

 The rebels now marched towards Fort William, where the Pretender
published a manifesto, which his father had signed at Rome; containing
abundant promises to such as would adhere to his cause; two of which
were a dissolution of the union between the two kingdoms, and a payment
of the national debt.

 This circumstance induced many of the ignorant country people to
flock to his standard, till at length his undisciplined rabble began to
assume the appearance of an army, which struck terror to the well-
affected wherever it came.

 These transactions, however, had not passed so secretly, but that
the governor of Fort William informed the Lord Justice Clerk of
Edinburgh of all he could learn of the. affair; on which the latter
dispatched an express to the north, ordering the assistance of all
officers, civil and military; and this express arrived about the time
the Pretender erected his standard.

 The Governor of Fort William having received these orders,
dispatched two companies of St. Clair's and Murray's regiments of foot,
to oppose the rebels. They were attacked by a far superior number of
Highlanders, which they contended against, until they fired away all
their ammunition; after which they were attacked in front, flank, and
rear, and near half their number killed, before they surrendered.
Captain Scott, their brave commander, was wounded; but the rebels gave
him and his remaining officers their parole of honour; the private
soldiers were sent to prison.

 In the interim the Lord Justice Clerk ordered Sir John Cope,
commander in chief of the forces in the South Scotland, to march
against the rebels; but in making the circuit of the immense mountains
of Argyleshire, the two armies failed to meet; on which Sir John went
to Inverness, to refresh his troops after the fatigue of the March.

 The armies having thus casually missed each other, the rebels
proceeded to Perth, and having taken possession of that place, the
Pretender issued his orders for all persons who were in possession of
public money, to pay it into the hands of his secretary, whose receipts
should be a full acquittal for the same.

 The rebel numbers had now greatly increased, and in September the
Pretender issued a proclamation. The provost and magistrates left the
city, and others were immediately appointed in their room. Here the
rebels were joined by the Duke of Perth, Lord George Murray, Lord
Nairn, the Hon. William Murray, Messrs. Oliphant, father and son, of
Gask, George Kelly, Esq. who, with the late bishop of Rochester, was
committed to the Tower, and thence escaped, and several other Scotch
gentlemen of influence, with their followers, making a formidable army.

 The official papers distributed began thus: "Charles, Prince of
Wales, and Regent of Scotland, England, France, and Ireland, and of the
Dominions thereto belonging."

 In the mean time general Cope sent from Inverness an express to
Aberdeen, for the transport Vessels in that harbour to be ready to
receive his troops; and embarking on the 18th of September, he
disembarked them at Dunbar.

 During these transactions General Quest, who commanded the castle
of Edinburgh, gave the magistrates of that city several pieces of
cannon for the defence of the place; and Colonel James Gardiner
repaired from Stirling to Edinburgh, with two regiments of dragoons;
but learning that General Cope had landed at Dunbar, which is twenty-
seven Miles east of Edinburgh, he proceeded lo effect a junction with
that general.

 On the 7th another party of rebels took possession of the town of
Dundee, proclaimed the Pretender, searched for arms, and levied money
on the inhabitants, giving receipts for the same. They seized a ship,
and steered her to Perth, supposing there was gunpowder on board. On
the 11th they left Perth, and marched that day to Dunblaine, twenty
miles; the next day only two, to Down. They crossed the Forth at the
fords of Frews, on the 13th, General Blakeney having destroyed the
bridge; and directed their march towards Glasgow; but the next day they
turned to the eastward, and marched by Falkirk to Cullington, four
miles from Edinburgh.

EDINBURGH TAKEN BY SURPRISE.

 The following day the Pretender proceeded through the royal park,
and took possession of Holyrood-House. The money in the bank of
Edinburgh, and the records in the public offices, were now removed to
the castle for security, and the gates of the city were kept fast
during the whole day; but five hundred of the rebels having concealed
themselves in the suburbs, took an opportunity, at four o'clock the 
next morning, to follow a  coach which was going in and seizing the
gate called the Netherbow, they maintained their ground while, the body
reached the centre of the city, and formed themselves in the Parliament
Close.

 Thus possessed of the capital, they seized two thousand stand of
arms, and, on the following day, marched to oppose the Royal army,
under the command of General Cope; and the two armies being within
sight of each other, near Preston Pans, on the evening of the 20th,
Colonel Gardiner earnestly recommended it to the general to attack them
during the night; but deaf to this advice he kept the men under arms,
till morning, though they were already greatly harassed.

 At five in the morning the rebels made a furious attack on the
royal army, and threw them into unspeakable confusion, by two regiments
of dragoons falling back on the foot. Colonel Gardiner, with 400 foot,
behaved with uncommon valour, and covered the retreat of those who
fled, but the colonel receiving a mortal wound, the rebels made
prisoners of the rest of the King's troops.

 The following account of this disaster was issued. from
Whitehall, London:

 "By an express arrived this morning, we are informed that Sir
John Cope, with the troops under his command, were attacked by the
rebels on the 21st instant, at day break, at Preston, near Seaton,
seven miles from Edinburgh; that the King's troops were defeated, and
that Sir John Cope, with about four hundred and fifty dragoons, had
retired to Lauder; Brigadier Fawkes and Colonel Lascelles, had got to
Lauder. The Earls of Loudon and Hume were at Dundee, with Sir John
Cope."

 The loss sustained by the King's troops was,
Killed
300
Wounded
450
Taken
prisoners
520
Total
1270

 The rebels did not lose more than fifty men.

 Flushed with this partial victory, the rebels returned in high
spirits to Edinburgh. They now sent foraging parties through the
country, with orders to seize all the horses and waggons they could
find: and, in the interim, a party of the insurgents attempted to throw
up an intrenchment on the castle-hill. Hereupon the governor,
necessitated to oppose the assailants, yet anxious for the safety of
the inhabitants, sent a messenger in the night, to intimate to those
who lived near the castle-hill, that they would do well to remove out
of danger.

 As soon as it was day-light, the battery of the rebels was
destroyed by a discharge of the great cannon from the half-moon, and
thirty of them killed, with three of the inhabitants, who had rashly
ventured near the spot.

 The governor being greatly deficient in provisions, a gentleman
ordered above 50 fine bullocks to be driven into the city on a pretence
that they were for the use of the rebels; and the person who drove them
leaving them on the castle-hill, the governor and five hundred men
sallied forth and drove them in at the gate, while the rebels played
their artillery with unremitting fury.

 While the rebels continued in Edinburgh, which was about seven
weeks, some noblemen and their adherents joined them; so that their
army amounted to almost ten thousand men, They now levied large
contributions; not only in Edinburgh, but through the adjacent country;
and those who furnished them received receipts, signed,

 "CHARLES, Prince Regent."

 The officers taken at the battle of Preston, were admitted to
their parole, but the privates were ill treated. Their allowance-was
only three-halfpence each per day, and their prison filthy, and 
destitute of accommodations. This was practised in order to cause them
to enlist under the banner of the Pretender and they were tampered
with, promised the best treatment, new clothing, and five guineas per
man, on their "taking St. James's Palace." One hundred and twenty,
oppressed by hunger, and tempted by allurement, were not able to
withstand either the calls or the temptation, and turned rebels and
papists: thus forfeiting their honour and their lives. It is curious to
remark, that not a man of these apostate traitors survived their newly
adopted cause, for such as were not killed in the various engagements
which took place before the rebellion could be quelled, fell into the
hands of their injured countrymen, who hanged them all on the gallows;
and thus let every traitor perish!

 About this time some ships from France arrived in the Forth,
laden with ammunition; and a person who attended the Pretender was
dignified with the title of ambassador from his most Christian Majesty.

 General Wade had now the command of some forces which had reached
Yorkshire; and some Dutch troops being sent to augment his forces, he
marched to Newcastle, with a view to deter the rebels from entering the
southern part of the kingdom.

 That celebrated prelate, the late Dr. Herring, archbishop of
York, distinguished himself gloriously on this interesting occasion.
Joining with the high sheriff to assemble the freeholders, the
archbishop preached an animated sermon to them; and then the several
parties agreed to assist each other in support of their civil and
religious rights. Many people in Yorkshire were prevented from engaging
in the rebellion by this spirited and well-timed conduct.

 The Lord President Forbes, and the Earl of Loudon, acted in a
manner equally zealous in Scotland. Having collected a number of the
loyal Highlanders into a body, many others who would have joined the
rebels were thereby deterred; and this proceeding proved of the most
essential service towards the suppression of the rebellion.

 The rebels quitted Edinburgh in the beginning of November,
marched to Dalkeith where they encamped; and a report was circulated
that they proposed to make an attack on Lerwick; but this was only a
contrivance to conceal their real designs.

 In the mean time more than a thousand of the rebels deserted, in
consequence of General Wade's publishing a pardon to such as would
return to their duty as good subjects, within a limited time. Still,
however, they had above eight thousand men able to bear arms; yet
General Wade would have marched to attack them, but that his soldiers
were ill of the flux, owing to the severity of the season, and the
fatigues they had undergone.

THE CITY OF CARLISLE BESIEGED AND TAKEN.

 Emboldened by success, and their force increased, the rebels now
determined to penetrate into England. On Saturday, the 9th of October,
about three o'clock in the afternoon, the inhabitants of that ancient
city were thrown into the greatest alarm, at seeing a body of them on
Stanwix-bank, within a quarter of a mile of them; and it being market-
day there, they mixed with the country people returning home, so that
it was not possible for the garrison to fire upon their for some time,
without risque of injuring their neighbours along with their enemies;
but in less than half an hour the country people dispersed themselves,
and then the garrison of the castle fired a ten-gun battery upon them,
which, it is believed, killed several; then, night coming on, they
retreated to a greater distance from the city and the garrison stood
all the night under arms.. At two in the morning a thick fog came on,
which remained till twelve that day, when it cleared up for about an
hour, and. then the garrison discovered the rebels approaching to
attack the city in three several ways, one at Stanwix-bank, commanded
by the Duke of Perth; another at Shading-gate-lane, commanded by the
Marquis of Tullibardine, who also had the artillery; and the third in
Blackwell-fields, where the Pretender commanded the rest of their body
facing the English-gate. Upon discovering these three parties
approaching so near to the city, the garrison fired upon them, viz. the
four-gun battery upon the Marquis of Tullibardine; who was heard to
say, "Gentlemen, we have not meta! for them, retreat;" which they
immediately did; and disappeared. The turret guns and the citadel guns
were: fired upon the Pretender's division, where the white flag was
displayed, which was seen to fall; about the same time the ten-gun
battery was fired upon the Duke of Perth's division, who also retired.
Then the thick fog struck in again, and all the inhabitants of the city
expected nothing but that a general assault would be made by the
rebels, against which the walls were well lined with men; and Sir
John.Pennington; Dr. Waugh, Chancellor Humphry Senhouse, Joseph Daire
Ralston; of Acron-bank, esquires, with several other gentlemen of note;
were all night under arms, to encourage and assist them. The militia
was also drawn up at the foot of Castle-street, to be ready in case of
a forcible attack, to relieve and reinforce the men upon the walls. On
Monday Morning, the fog still continuing thick, the garrison could not
observe the situation of the rebels, but heard their pipers playing not
far from the English-gate. About ten o'clock a man was let down from
the city walls, to reconnoitre the enemy; and he found they were
retiring towards Warwick bridge. In the afternoon other spies were
likewise detached to observe their motions, and discovered a great
number remaining about Warwick-bridge; but the Pretender, with his
guard and attendants, were advanced to Brampton; where they lodged
themselves that night; and on Tuesday they lay idle from all action,
except feats of rapine and plunder; for they spent the day in hunting
and destroying the sheep of Lord Carlisle's tenants, and bearing off
the country people's geese, and other poultry, They also seized upon
all the horses they could lay hands on, without any question relating
to value or property notwithstanding they declared the design of their
expedition was to redress grievances, and correct abuses. Tuesday night
the rebels slept quietly. On Wednesday morning about ten o'clock they
displayed the white flag at Warwick-bridge-end, to which they were
about three hours in repairing. About one o'clock the young Pretender,
attended by Lord George Murray, the Duke of Perth, and several others,
besides those called his guard, came to them; upon which they formed
themselves, and. began to march again to Carlisle, in the following
order, first, two (named Hussars) in Highland dresses, and high rough
red caps, like pioneers: next, about half a dozen of the chief leaders,
followed by a kettle-drum; then the. Pretender's son, at the head of
about 110 horse, called his guards, two and two a-breast; after these a
confused multitude of all sorts of mean people to the number, as was
supposed, of about six thousand.. In this order they advanced to the
height of Warwick-moor; where they halted about half an hour, and took
an attentive view of the city; from thence the foot took the lead, and
so marched to Carlisle about three in the afternoon, when they began a
fresh assault, and the city renewed their fire. On Thursday it was
discovered that the rebels had thrown up a trench, which intimidated
the town, and in a consultation it was resolved to capitulate, a
deputation was sent to the Pretender, at Brampton, and the town and
castle were delivered up on Friday morning.

 During this progress and success of the rebels, the English
government were not waiting the event of a battle, without making every
effort to entirely quell the rebellion. The city of London addressed
the king, in terms of great loyalty, and offered contributions for that
purpose. The example of the metropolis was followed by almost every
corporate body in the kingdom. The flower of the English army, as we
have already observed, was in Germany; had they, instead of the new
levies then engaged, fought at Preston, the issue of that battle would
most likely have terminated the rebellion.

 The King now thought fit to send for his son the Duke of
Cumberland, to command against the rebels; and with him eight
battalions and nine squadrons returned, from fighting foreign foes, to
quell a civil war at home. On his arrival he immediately took the
command; and soon followed his veteran troops towards the north. He
arrived in Staffordshire, at the time when the rebels had penetrated as
far as the town of Derby.

 Both houses of parliament now assembled, a bill was passed for
suspending the habeas corpus act for six months: by which the King was,
for that period, empowered to seize all suspected persons, and commit
them to prison, without specifying the reason of such Commitment.
[Note: The right of the writ of habeas corpus is one of the most
valuable privileges of an Englishman. By virtue of it the body cannot
be detained without shewing cause to the Court of King's Bench. It
guards us from oppressions, and is productive of many advantages in the
security of our rights and liberties. Hence its suspension is not
trusted to the King himself, except upon the most urgent necessity,
such as an invasion, rebellion, or insurrection.]

 The effects of this act were the apprehension and commitment of
many suspected persons in both kingdoms; but it did not appear to stop
the progress of the rebellion.

 The duke now expected a junction of the forces under General
Wade, who had marched from Newcastle to Darlington, and taking a
westward course, had stationed his troops near Wetherby. The rebels
having advice of this motion, it was proposed by some of them to march
into North Wales; but others opposed this on the presumption, that they
should then be surrounded by the royal army, and compelled to surrender
themselves prisoners at discretion, as they would have no opportunity
of retreating into Scotland. They therefore determined to push their
cause to the very utmost; and for this purpose advanced by more rapid
Marches to the southward; than the king's troops could have endured,
until they actually penetrated into the very heart and centre of
England.

 Liverpool was not behind London in spirit and loyalty. The
inhabitants contributed largely in assisting the royal army at this
inclement season, with warm clothing, and raised several companies of
armed men, which were called the Royal Liverpool Blues. Some of the
advanced parties of rebels having appeared in sight of the town, every,
preparation was made to resist them. Finding at length that the
pretender bent his march by another route for Manchester, the Liverpool
Blues marched in order to destroy the brides, and thereby impede their
progress, This service they effected,, breaking them down at
Warrington, over the river Mersey, as far as Stockport. They seized two
of the rebels, whom they handcuffed and, sent to Chester Gaol.

 Notwithstanding these impediments, the rebels crossed the Mersey,
at different fords, through which the Pretender waded breast high in
water. Their numbers could not be accurately ascertained, their march
being straggling and unequal, but about 9000 appeared the aggregate.
Their train of artillery, consisted of sixteen field-pieces of three
and four-pound shot, two carriages of gunpowder, a number of covered
waggons, and about 109 horses laden with ammunition. Their vanguard
consisted of about 200 cavalry, badly mounted, the horses appearing
poor and jaded.

 On entering the town of Macclesfield, they ordered the usual
bellman to go round and, give notice, that billets must forthwith be
ready for 5,000 men, their first division, on pain of military
execution. The Pretender himself constantly marched on foot, at the
head of two regiments, one of which was appropriated as his body-guard.
His dress was a light plaid, belted about with a sash of blue silk; he
wore a grey wig, with a blue bonnet and a white rose in it. He appeared
very dejected at this time. His followers were ordinary, except the two
regiments mentioned, which appeared to have been, picked, out of the
whole, to form them. The arms of the others were very  indifferent.
Some had guns, others only pistols, the remainder broad swords and
targets. They committed various depredations in their progress, seizing
all the horses, and plundering the houses and the farm-yards.

 In this manner they proceeded to Derby. At Manchester, where they
raised a regiment, it was apprehended, and not without reason, that
they might have reached the Metropolis, the duke not being fully
prepared, or by their retrograde motions might have missed them, as
happened in  the outset with Sir John Cope in the mountains of
Arglyeshire. Though we cannot consistently with the plan of our work,
occupy many more pages, yet, on a subject like this, so highly
important at the time it occurred, and new to a great portion of our
readers, a description of the behaviour of this rebellious faction in
Manchester and Derby, with the panic which seized them, and their
flight back to Scotland, cannot be unacceptable.

 On the 28th of November, an advanced party of rebels entered
Manchester, immediately beat up for volunteers, and enlisted several
papists and nonjurors, to whom they promised five guineas each, but
gave them little more than white cockades, and what they called
enlisting money. They then ordered quarters to be prepared for 10,000
men. Upon the arrival of the main body, a detachment examined the best
houses, fixed on one for the Pretender, and others for the principal
officers. They ordered the bellman to go round the town, and give
notice to all persons belonging to the excise, innkeepers, &c.
forthwith to appear, and bring their acquittances and rolls,  and all
the ready cash they had in their hands, belonging to government, on
pain of military execution.

 The Pretender was then proclaimed king Of England, and the
terrified inhabitants were ordered to illuminate their houses.

 In order to deceive the Duke of Cumberland, whose army was
augmenting in Staffordshire, sometimes they gave out that their route
was for Chester; then to Knutsford, Middlewich, and Nantwich; at other
times they pretended they were going. into Wales. The Duke, however,
took those measures which could not fail checking their progress,
should they push for London, which now was greatly apprehended; and in
short, the whole nation was in the utmost consternation. He
concentrated the troops near Northampton, a position which the rebels
could not pass by the direct road, without risking a battle. It was
still apprehended that by forced marches, and by advancing with great
rapidity, they meant to avoid the Duke by a circuitous route through
Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire. Fortunately they trifled away much time
in raising the regiments, a proposition of a Mr. Townley, who was
appointed the colonel, and afterwards taken prisoner at Carlisle, for
which, among many others he was hanged, as we shall hereafter describe.

 These daring traitors had despoiled the country as far as Derby,
before they were aware of the danger they incurred to themselves. Here
they found that the duke was waiting their further progress,
advantageously posted, and in force, which they appeared unwilling to
engage with. They had actually left Derby, and taken the road to
London, when, it was evident, a panic overcame them; for they had
barely measured a mile when they halted; held a consultation, wheeled
round, and retraced their steps to Derby. On their second visit to this
already oppressed town, they levied contributions to a large amount,
and threatened destruction to, it, unless instantly complied with. They
took what was hastily brought them, meanly plundered whatever fell in
their way, and departed sullen and dejected.

 From this moment they sought to regain Scotland, and by forced
marches the duke pursued them. However oppressive their conduct in
advancing, they committed murder and wanton mischief, and seized
whatever they could carry off in their retreat. The rebels in arms in
Scotland had, before this, been joined by some French troops, the
commander of which declared, that he invaded the British dominions in
the name of, and for, his master Louis XV.

 It is high time in our summary of this very remarkable epoch of
the British history, which might fill an interesting volume, to take a
view of. the proceedings of the gallant Duke of Cumberland. On the 6th
he was at Coventry; with horse, and the infantry encamped upon Meriden
Common where they received the warm clothing subscribed for in London,
Liverpool, and other towns. On the 9th he pushed on at the head of the
cavalry, and a thousand fresh, volunteers, mounted in pursuit of the
rebels, with a view to skirmish with, them until the foot came up, but
they fled at their utmost speed, through Ashbourn, Leek, Macclesfield,
Manchester, Leigh, Wigan, and Preston.

 In order to enable the duke, to continue his pursuit, the
gentlemen of Staffordshire provided horses to carry the foot soldiers.
The flourishing town of Birmingham followed this laudable example, and
Sir Lister Holt of Aston Hall, near thereto, furnished 450, sending
even his coach-horses on this service; for which be received the public
and. private thanks of the English commander in chief

 Field-marshal Wade with his detachment of the British army, was
at this time at Wakefield. It had been resolved, in a council of war
held on the 8th, at Ferrybridge, to march with all expedition into
Lancashire, to cut off the retreat of the rebels to Scotland: but
finding they, had proceeded too far in their flight to effect this, he
dispatched General Oglethorpe with the cavalry to hang upon, and harass
their rear.

 The French force which landed in favour of the rebels, brought
with them a train of artillery of such heavy metal as to require about
a dozen of their horses to draw an eighteen-pounder. With this train
they advanced from Montrose to Perth, by Brechin. They had every
difficulty to encounter; the season rendered the roads extremely bad,
and the country people annoyed them in all directions.

 At Preston, the rebels wearied with incessant marches for the
last three or four days, were compelled to halt a day. This being made
known to the Duke of Cumberland, he redoubled his efforts to overtake
them with his cavalry. He had seen recently joined by General
Oglethorpe, whose squadrons had moved. from Doncaster without a halt;
and in three days he gained a hundred miles over snow and ice. By
pushing the horses to the extremity, the duke entered Preston only four
hours after the rear of the rebels had left it but in turn he was now
compelled to halt and refresh.

 On the 14th General Oglethorpe was at Garstang, and took his post
at Elhilmoor, about three miles from Lancaster. The Liverpool companies
arrived at Preston on the 16th, and that town sent a deputation of four
of the principal inhabitants to his royal highness, with, offers to
supply his troops with whatever they might stand in need of.

 At Lancaster the rebels were thrown into the utmost dread on the
approach of General Oglethorpe, with the horse, who actually entered
the town at one end, as they retreated out of the other. While the
horses were feeding in the street, and the soldiers refreshing and
preparing for the attack on overtaking the fugitives, the general was
called back by an express announcing the invasion of the French. This
intelligence proving to have had no foundation, the horse were again
ordered to push on, but the rebels had got by that time so much the
start, as not to be overtaken.

 At Kendal the country rose upon the retreating rebels; they took
three of their men, two women, and several horses; in doing which three
of the people were killed. The Pretender halted at Shap that night; and
fearing to be treated in like manner at Penryth, he endeavoured to
avoid that town, in which attempt he was met by an incredible number of
incensed inhabitants on Lazenby Moor, on which they turned off to
Temple Sowerby, but were hunted and galled the whole day, and at length
driven into Orton. Here they could wait only to feed their horses in
the street, and then set forward, having pressed a guide, but were
pursued by the loyal people of Appleby and Brough, who took the Duke of
Perth's mistress and another gentlewoman, whose carriage had broke
down. As a retaliation for this interruption, the rebels committed
great spoliations as they passed, plundering houses and shops,
destroying goods, and stripping men of their shoes, stockings, breeches
-- nay, often stripping them altogether.

 After several forced marches, the Duke of Cumberland at length
came up with the rebels at Lowther Hall, which they had taken
possession of, but abandoned it on his approach, and threw themselves
into the village of Clifton, three miles from Penryth. The dragoons
immediately dismounted, and made so vigorous an attack, that in about
an hour's time the rebels were driven back, though in a strong and
defensible post. It became dark before the assault was over, and thus
it was rendered impossible to calculate their loss, or to pursue them.
Of the King's forces, forty were killed and wounded; and among the
latter were Colonel Honeywood, Captain East, and the cornets Owen and
Hamilton. These officers declared that when fallen, the rebels struck
at them with their broadswords crying, "No quarter, kill them." They
then, carried off their wounded and fled to Carlisle, which city they
held possession of since its disgraceful capitulation; and which the
English made immediate preparation to invest.

 A fresh detachment from Marshal Wade having joined. the duke,
with a train of battering cannon from Whitehaven, he began his line of
march for Carlisle, and gave orders for raising the posse comitatus,
(the whole body of the people.) Upon his near approach, he found the
main body of the rebels had abandoned the city for Scotland, leaving
behind a garrison. He however invested it in all quarters, and the
besieged fired their cannon with great fury, but little execution.

 During these operations, the Seahorse frigate captured a large
French ship, a part of a small fleet; full of troops and warlike
stores, destined for Scotland, and: brought her into Dover. On board
were twenty-two officers, all of whom were Scotch and Irish, provided
with corn, missions from the King of France, and, a proportional number
of soldiers.

 To return to Carlisle: the Duke of Cumberland threw up batteries
to bombard it, while the rebels burnt part of the suburbs, and hanged
three of the inhabitants. The batteries, which took up several days in
constructing, being complete were opened upon the city, but towards
evening, ammunition being expended, they ceased, waiting for a supply,
which, however, fortunately arrived next day, and the cannonade was
resumed, which caused the rebels to hoist the white flag, upon which,
it again ceased. In about two bows a f1ag of truce advanced with a
rebel officer, who brought a letter signed 'John Hamilton, Governor of
Carlisle.' This letter proposed hostages to be given and exchanged, in
order to prepare for a capitulation. To this the Duke of Cumberland
returned for answer, "That he would make no exchange of hostages with
rebels." Another  flag arrived from the rebel governor, desiring to
know what terms the duke would grant him and his garrison. To this was
answered, that the utmost terms he would grant, were, "not to put them
to the sword, but to reserve them for His Majesty's pleasure;"
whereupon he surrendered the city, praying the duke to intercede for
his Majesty's royal clemency, and that the officers' clothes and
baggage, might be safe; and at three in the afternoon of the 30th of
December, the King's troops once more took possession of the devoted
city of Carlisle.

 The rebel garrison consisted of the remains of the regiment they
raised at Manchester, viz. Towney, their colonel, five captains, six
lieutenants, seven ensigns, and an adjutant, who had been a barber,
with ninety-three non-commissioned officers, drummers, and private men,
chiefly Roman Catholics. The other part of the garrison of Scotch, were
the governor, six captains,. seven lieutenants, three ensigns, and one
surgeon; and 456 non-commissioned officers and private men. Last,
though not least rebellious, was found James Cappock, the Pretender's
bishop of the diocese. The French part of this contemptible garrison,
as they styled themselves, was Sir Francis Geogean, of Thoulouse, in
France, captain in Count Lally's regiment, Colonel Strictland, and Sir
John Arbuthnot, captains in the rebel Lord George Drummond's regiment;
but the real Frenchmen were, one sergeant and four private soldiers.

 These victories, however, by no means put an end to this very
formidable rebellion. We must therefore, long as our account already
is, follow the contending parties to Scotland, and when our readers
recollect, that for this crime, very considerable numbers, as we shall
hereafter shew, forfeited their lives, we cannot persuade ourselves,
that herein we make even a digression from our avowed object. The main
body of the rebels, we have observed, left Carlisle, and in haste moved
forward to Scotland, having no impediment to encounter, we pass over
their destructive march, until we find the Pretender at Glasgow, the
second city of that part of great Britain.  On his arrival at Glasgow,
the Pretender sent for the Provost (the principal officer of the city)
and demanded the names of all those who had subscribed for raising
troops against him, threatening to hang him on his refusal. To this the
Provost replied, "I will not give up the name of any one person in the
city, but myself subscribed more than any other. I thought it my duty,
and I am not afraid to die in such a cause." Here they levied a
contribution for horses, and promised payment for what they consumed,
then ordered the land-tax to be paid: but upon departure said, their
expenses should be discharged out of the pretended forfeited rents of
Kilsyth. They then marched for Stirling, in possession of the English,
commanded by the gallant General Blakeney. The gates could not be
defended; they therefore marched in, and summoned the garrison to
surrender; but the veteran commander answered, that "he would perish in
its ruins, rather than make terms with rebels." In the river of the
town were two English men of war, and the rebels, in order to prevent
their going further up, erected a battery, which the ships soon
destroyed, and caused them to retreat a mile, where they erected
another, which did little execution. They now prepared. for a vigorous
attack upon the castle, got some heavy pieces of ordnance across the
Forth, erected a battery against it, and called in all their forces.
General Blakeney fired upon them, and repeatedly drove them from their
works.

 General Hawley, at the head of such troops as he could form in
order of battle, marched to attempt to raise the siege, but the rebels
made a desperate attack, at the commencement of which his artillery
horses, terrified, broke their traces, and ran away. Some of the
dragoons seeing this, also gave way, and in short, the rebels had the
advantage. At the beginning of the battle, a violent storm of wind and
rain arose, which blew and beat in the faces of the English. General
Hawley retreated to Linlithgow. His powder was found spoiled by the
excessive rains of that and the preceding day; not a musket in five
went off, and the drivers of his waggons, running off with the
impressed horses, he was compelled to burn his tents and other stores,
and to abandon nearly the whole of his artillery.

 Edinburgh being again in the possession of the English, and fears
entertained that the rebels meant to abandon the siege of Stirling, and
proceed thither, General Hawley was ordered to post himself between
those places. The rebels, abandoning Stirling,. laid siege to Fort
William, but after a long attack, in which they fired hot bars, in
hopes of setting it on fire, they, also gave up that design.

 Various were the skirmishes in different parts of Scotland, and
frequently to the advantage of the rebels, which we shall pass over  in
order to bring our history to a close, by presenting the two armies in
order of battle, at Culloden; the result of which crushed this
rebellion. It is certain, that the rebels entertained the most sanguine
hopes of success, from their broadswords, which had already borne them
too long in their career: but, when opposed to the English bayonet of
veteran troops, they, were as a feather before the wind, nor can the
horse make any impression on that formidable weapon, in the hands of a
determined infantry. This may be called a pitched battle, for the
contending armies having taken the field, determined to abide the issue
of the day. They were respectively commanded by the Duke and the
Pretender, in their proper persons: and the following, taken from the
London Gazette, is the conqueror's account of the battle:

 "On Tuesday the 15th the rebels burnt Fort Augustus, which
convinced us of their resolution to stand an engagement with the King's
troops. We gave our men a day's halt at Nairn, and, on the 16th marched
from thence between four and five in, four columns. The three lines of
foot (reckoning the reserve for one) were broken into three from the
right, which made the three columns equal, and each of five battalions.
The artillery and baggage followed the first column upon the right, and
the cavalry made the fourth column on the left.

 "After we had marched about eight miles, our advanced guard
composed of about 40 of Kingston's, and the highlanders, led by the
quarter-master-general, perceived the rebels at some distance making a
motion towards us; upon which we immediately formed; but finding the
rebels were still a good way from us, and that the whole body did not
come forward, we put ourselves again upon our march in our former
posture, and continued it to within a mile of them, where we again
formed in the same order as before. After reconnoitering their
situation, we found them posted behind some old walls and huts, in a
line with Culloden House. As we thought our right entirely secure, Gen.
Hawley and Gen. Bland went to the left with two regiments of dragoons,
to endeavour to fall upon the right flank of the rebels, and Kingston's
horse was ordered to the reserve. The ten pieces of cannon were
disposed, two in each of the intervals of the first line, and all our
Highlanders (except about 140, which were upon the left with Gen.
Hawley, and who behaved extremely well) were left to guard the baggage.

 "When we were advanced within 500 yards of the rebels, we found
the morass upon our right was ended, which left our right flank quite
uncovered to them; his Royal Highness thereupon immediately ordered
Kingston's horse from the reserve, and a little squadron of about 60 of
Cobham's which had been patrolling, to cover our flank; and Pulteney's
regiment was ordered from the reserve to the right of the Royals.

 "We spent above half an hour after that, trying which should gain
the flank of the other; and his Royal Highness having sent Lord Bury
forward within a hundred yards of the rebels, to reconnoitre somewhat
that appeared like a battery to us, they there upon began firing their
cannon, which was extremely ill-served and ill-pointed: ours
immediately answered them, which began their confusion. They then came
running on in their wild Manner: and upon the right where his Royal
Highness placed himself, imagining the greater push would be there,
they came down three several times within a hundred yards of our men,
firing their pistols and brandishing their swords: but the Royals and
Pulteney's hardly took their firelocks from their shoulders, so that
after those faint attempts they made off, and the little squadrons on
our right were sent to pursue them. Gen. Hawley had, by the help of our
Highlanders, beat down the little stone walls, and came in upon the
right flank of their second line.

 "As their whole first line came down to attack at once, their
right somewhat out-flanked Barrel's regiment, which was our left, and
the greatest part of the little loss we sustained, was there; but
Bligh's and Sempil's giving a fire upon those who had out-flanked
Barrel's soon repulsed them, and Barrel's regiment and the left of
Monro's fairly beat them with their bayonets. There was scarce a
soldier or officer of Barrel's, and of that part of Monro's which
engaged, who did not kill one or two men each with their bayonets and
spontoons. [Note: Spontoons: The officers' half-pikes]

 The cavalry, which had charged from the right and left, met in
the centre, except two squadrons of dragoons, which we missed, and they
were gone in pursuit of the runaways: Lord Ancram was order to pursue
with the horse as far as he could; and did it with so good effect that
a very considerable number was killed in the pursuit.

 "As we were in our march to Inverness, and were nearly arrived
there, Major Gen. Bland sent the annexed papers, which he received from
the French officers and soldiers, surrendering themselves prisoners to
his Royal Highness. Major Gen. Bland had also made great slaughter, and
took about 50 French officers and soldiers prisoners in his pursuit.

 "By the best calculation that can be made, it is thought the
rebels lost 2000 men upon the field of battle, and in the pursuit. We
have here 222 French, and 326 rebel prisoners. Lieut. Col. Howard
killed an officer, who appeared to be Lord Strathallan, by the seal,
and different commissions from the Pretender, found in his pocket.

 "It is said Lord Perth, Lord Nairn, Lochiel, Keppock, and Appin
Stuart, are also killed. All their artillery and ammunition, were
taken, as well as the Pretender's and all their baggage. There were
also. twelve colours taken.

 "All the generals, officers, and soldiers, did their utmost duty
in his Majesty's service, and shewed the greatest zeal and bravery on
this occasion.

 "The Pretender's son, it is said, lay at Lord Lovat's house at
Aird, the night after the action. Brig. Mordaunt is detached with 900
volunteers this morning into the Frazier country, to attack all the
rebels he may find there. Lord Sutherland's and Lady Reay's people
continue to exert themselves, and have taken upwards of 100 rebels, who
are sent for; and there is great reason to believe Lord Cromartie and
his son are also taken. The Monroes have killed 50 of the rebels in
their flight. As it is not known where the greatest bodies of them are,
or which way they have taken in their flight, his Royal Highness has
not yet determined which way to march. On the 17th, as his Royal
Highness as at dinner, three officers, and about sixteen of Fitz-
James's regiment, who were mounted, came and surrendered themselves
prisoners.

 "The killed, wounded, and missing, of the King's troops, amount
to above 300.

 "The French officers will be all sent to Carlisle, till his
Majesty's pleasure shall be known.

 "The rebels, by their own accounts, make their loss greater by
2000 men than we have stated it. Four of their principal ladies are in
custody, viz. Lady Ogilvie, Lady Kinloch, Lady Gordon, and the Laird of
McIntosh's wife. Major Grant, the Governor of Inverness, is retaken,
and the Generals, Hawley, Lord Albemarle, Huske, and Bland, have orders
to inquire into the reasons for his surrendering of Fort George.

 "Lord Cromartie, Lord M‘Leod his son, with other prisoners, are
just brought in from Sutherland, by the Hound sloop, which his Royal
Highness had sent for them, and they are just now landing."

"To wield the broadsword, and assume the plad,
Avails but little where the cause is bad."


THE EARL OF KILMARNOCK, THE EARL OF CROMARTIE, THE LORD BALMERINO
Three of the principal rebel chiefs
"These men were once the glory of their age,
"Disinterested, just, with ev'ry Virtue
"Of civil life adorn'd, at arms excelling,
"Their only blot was this; that much inovok'd
"They rais'd their vengeful arms against their country;
"And lo! the righteous gods have now chastis'd them."
THOMPSON.
{Illustration: The Earl of Kilmarnock}

 THESE, noblemen possessed great influence, and were much
respected, previous to, the unhappy rebellion in 1745. Having already
given a correct, though abridged account, of the transactions in which
they took conspicuous part; we proceed, without farther comment, to
their trials, defence, speeches, and execution.

 On Monday, the 28th of July, 1746, about eight o clock in the
morning, the three rebel lords, prisoners in the Tower, were carried
from thence in three coaches, the Earl of Kilmarnock, with Governor 
Williamson, and another gentleman, captain of the guard, in the first,
the Earl of Cromartie; attended by Captain Marshall, in the second: and
Lord Balmerino, attended by Mr. Fowler, gentleman gaoler, who had the
axe covered by him, in the third, under a strong guard of foot-soldiers
to Westminster Hall, where the Lord High Steward and the peers having
taken their seats, proclamation was made for the Lieutenant of the
Tower of London to return the precept to him directed, with the bodies
of the prisoners: which done, the Gentleman Gaoler of the Tower brought
his prisoners to the bar; and the proclamation was made for the King's
evidence to come forth, the King's counsel, by his Grace's direction,
opened the indictment, then his Grace moved the house that he might
advance forwards for the better hearing of the evidence, (which being
done, William Earl of Kilmarnock was brought to the bar) and his bill
of indictment for high treason read, to which his lordship, pleaded
Guilty, and desired to be recommended to his Majesty for mercy. Then
George Earl of Cromartie was brought to the bar, &c, who also pleaded
Guilty and prayed for mercy, After which Arthur Lord Balmerino was
brought to the bar, &c. who pleaded Not Guilty, alleging that he was
not at Carlisle at the time specified in the indictment, whereupon six
witnesses for the crown were called in and examined, whose evidence was
distinctly repeated by the reading-clerk, proving that his Lordship
entered Carlisle (though not the same day) sword in hand, at the head
of a regiment called by his name, Elphinston's horse. To this he made
an exception, which was overruled. The Lord High Steward then asked him
if he had any witness, or any thing further to offer in his defence. To
which he replied, he was sorry he had given their lordships so much
trouble, and had nothing more to say. Hereupon their lordships retired
out of Westminster Hall to the House of Peers, where the opinion of the
judges was asked, touching the overt act, which they declaring to be
not material, as other facts were proved beyond contradiction, their
lordships returned, and his Grace putting the question to the youngest
baron, "Whether Arthur Lord Balmerino was guilty or not guilty, &c." he
clapt his right hand to his left breast, and said, "Guilty, upon my
honour, my Lord," as did all the rest of the peers. And the prisoners
being again called to the bar, the Lord High Steward declared their
resolutions: and they were ordered to be brought up on the 30th. at 11
o'clock in the morning to receive sentence.

 Written notice was given them to bring what they might have to
offer in arrest of judgment.-- There were 136 peers present.

 On the 30th the Lord High Steward went to Westminster Hall,
attended as before: and the prisoners being brought again before their
peers, the Earl of Kilmarnock made a very elegant, and pathetic speech
which was much admired, to move their lordships to intercede for him
with his Majesty. The Earl of  Cromartie spoke also to the same effect;
but Lord Balmerino, pleaded, in arrest of judgment, that his indictment
was found in the county of Surrey, and, this being a point of law,
desired that he might be allowed counsel to argue it, upon which the
lords adjourned to their chamber, to consider of it, and soon after
returned; ordered his plea to be argued on Friday next, and appointed
Messrs. Wilbrake and Forrester for his counsel. [Note:  This point was
that the bill of indictment was found on an act of parliament passed in
March last, by which prisoners, charged with high treason, were to be
tried in such county as his Majesty should appoint; but, as the treason
with which his lordship was charged, is said to be committed at
Carlisle, in the December before, he ought to have been indicted there,
and not in Surrey, because the treason alleged to be committed was
before the passing of the act, and therefore he could not be affected
by it, and consequently the whole superstructure built thereon must
fall to the ground. This objection, it is said, was suggested to all
the lords, in a letter sent to each in the Tower, by an officious
person; but the very title of the act includes "such persons as HAVE
levied, or shall levy war, against his Majesty."]

 On the 1st of August the Lord High Steward, and the peers being
come to Westminster Hall, the three rebel lords were brought to the
bar, with the axe carried before them. Then the E. of Kilmarnock and E.
of Cromartie were separately asked if they had any thing to propose why
judgment should not be passed upon them; to which they answered in the
negative. Then his Grace informed Lord Balmerino, that, having started
an objection, desired counsel, and had their assistance, he was now to
make use of it, if he thought fit, to argue that point.  His Lordship
answered, he was sorry for the trouble he had given his Grace and the
peers; that he would not have taken that step, if he had not been
persuaded there was some ground for the objection; but that his counsel
having satisfied him there was nothing in it that could tend to his
service, he declined having them heard, submitted to the court, and was
resolved to rely upon his Majesty's mercy.

 His Grace then made a speech to the prisoners, almost to the same
effect as that pronounced by Earl Cowper. But as the present rebellion
was opposed with more unanimity and zeal than the last, his Grace took
occasion to observe to their lordships, that the beginnings of the
rebellion "were so weak and unpromising, as to be capable of seducing
none but the most infected and willing minds to join in so desperate an
enterprise. -- That it  was impossible, even for the party of the
rebels to be so inconsiderate or vain as to imagine, that the body of
this free people, blest in the enjoyment of all their rights, both
civil and religious, under his Majesty's protection; secure in the
prospect of transmitting them safe to their posterity, under the
Protestant succession in his royal house, would not rise up, as one
man, to oppose and crush so flagitious, so destructive, and so
unprovoked an attempt. -- Accordingly the rebels soon saw his Majesty's
faithful subjects, conscious both of their duty and  interest,
contending to outdo one another in demonstrations of their zeal and
vigour in his service. -- Men of property, of all ranks and orders,
crowded in with liberal subscriptions, of their own motion, beyond the
examples of former times, and uncompelled by any law: and yet in the
most legal and warrantable manner, notwithstanding what has been
ignorantly and presumptuously suggested to the contrary. -- His
lordship concluded thus: It has been his Majesty's justice to bring
your lordships to legal trial and it has been his wisdom to shew, that,
as a small part of his national forces was sufficient to subdue the
rebel army in the field, so the ordinary course of his laws, is strong
enough to bring even their chiefs to justice."

 Then, after a short pause, his Grace pronounced sentence as in
cases of high treason. Afterwards breaking his staff, put an end to the
commission.

 At six o'clock a troop of life-guards, one of horse-grenadiers,
and 1000 of the foot guards, (being fifteen men out of each company,)
marched from the parade in St. James's park through the city to Tower-
hill, to attend the execution of the Earl of Kilmarnock and the Lord
Balmerino, and being arrived there, were posted in lines from the Tower
to the scaffold, and all round it. About eight o'clock the sheriffs of
London, with their under-sheriffs, and their officers, viz. six
serjeants at mace, six yeomen, and the executioner, met at the Mitre
tavern in Fenchurch-street, where they breakfasted, and went from
thence to the house lately the Transport-office on Tower-hill, near
Catherine-court, hired by them for the reception of the said lords,
before they should be conducted to the scaffold, fold, which was
erected about thirty yards from the said house. At ten o'clock the
block was fixed on the stage, and covered with black cloth, and several
sacks of sawdust were brought up to strew on it; soon after their
coffins were brought, covered with black cloth, ornamented with gilt
nails, &c. On the Earl of Kilmarnock's was a plate with this
inscription, "Gulielmus. Comes. de Kilmarnock decollatus, 18 Augusti,
1746, Ætat. suæ 42," with an earl's coronet over it, and 6 coronets
over the six handles; and on lord Balmerino's was a plate with this
inscription, "Arthurus Dominus de Balmerino decollatus, 18 Augusti,
1746, Ætat. Suæ 58," with a baronet's coronet over it, and six others
over the six handles. At a quarter after ten the sheriffs went in
procession to the outward gate of the Tower, and, after knocking at it
some time, a warder within asked, "Who's there?" The officer without
answered, "The Sheriffs of London and Middlesex." The warder then
asked, "What do they want?" The officer answered, "The bodies of Earl
of Kilmarnock, and Arthur, Lord Balmerino.", Upon which the warder
said, "I will go and inform the Lieutenant of the Tower," and in about
ten minutes the Lieutenant of the Tower, with the Earl of Kilmarnock,
and Major White with Lord Balmerino, guarded by several of. the
warders, came to the gate; the prisoners were there delivered to the
Sheriffs, who gave proper receipts for their bodies to the Lieutenant,
who, as is usual, said, "God bless King George;" to which the Earl of
Kilmarnock assented by a bow, and the Lord Balmerino said, "God bless
King James." [Note:  At the foot of the first stairs, the Earl of
Kilmarnock met and embraced Lord Balmerino, who greatly (as Mr. Foster
observes) said to him, " My Lord, I am heartily sorry to have your
company in this expedition."] Soon after, the procession, moving in a
slow and solemn manner, appeared in the following order: 1. The
Constable of the Tower-hamlets. 2. The Knight-Marshal's men and Tip-
staves. 3. The Sheriffs' officers. 4. The Sheriffs, the Prisoners, and
their Chaplains; Mr. Sheriff Blachford walking with the Earl of
Kilmarnock, and Mr. Sheriff Cockayne with the Lord Balmerino. 5. The
Tower Warders. 6. A guard of Musqueteers. 7. The two hearses and a
mourning coach. When the procession had passed through the lines into
the area of the circle formed by the guards, the passage was closed,
and the troops of horse, who were in the rear of the foot on the lines,
wheeled off, and drew up five deep behind the foot on the south side of
the hill, facing the scaffold.

 The Lords were conducted into separate apartments in the house
facing the steps of the scaffold; their friends being admitted to see
them. The Earl of Kilmarnock was attended by the Rev. Mr. Foster, a
dissenting minister, and the Rev. Mr. Hume, a near relation of the Earl
of Hume; and the. Chaplain of the Tower, and another clergyman of the
church of England, accompanied the Lord Balmerino; who, on entering the
door of the house, hearing several of the spectators ask eagerly,
"Which is Lord Balmerino?" answered, smiling, "I am Lord Balmerino,
gentlemen, at your service." The parlour and passage of the house, the
rails enclosing the way from thence to the scaffold, and the rails
about it, were all hung with black at the Sheriff's expense.

 The Lord Kilmarnock, in the apartment allotted to him, spent
about an hour in his devotions with Mr. Foster, who assisted him with
prayer and exhortation. After which Lord Balmerino, pursuant to his
request, being admitted to confer with the earl, first thanked him for
the favour, and then asked, If his lordship knew of any order signed by
the Prince (meaning the Pretender's son) to give no quarter at the
battle of Culloden. And the; earl answering, 'No,' Lord Balmerino
added, 'Nor I neither, and therefore it seems to be an invention to
justify their own murders.' The earl replied, 'he did not think this a
fair inference, because he was informed, after he was prisoner at
Inverness, by several officers, that such an order, signed George
Murray, was in the duke's custody.' -- 'George Murray,' said Lord
Balmerino, 'then they should not charge it on the Prince.' Then he took
his leave, embracing Lord Kilmarnock, with the same kind of noble and
generous compliments, as he had used before, 'My dear Lord Kilmarnock,
I am only sorry that I cannot pay this reckoning alone; once more,
farewell for ever,' and returned to his own room.

 The earl then, with the company kneeling down joined in a prayer
delivered by Mr. Foster: after which, having sat a few moments, and
taken a second refreshment of a bit of bread and a glass of wine, he
expressed a desire that Lord Balmerino might go first to the scaffold;
but being informed that this could not be, as his lordship was named
first in the warrant, he appeared satisfied, saluted his friends,
saying he should make no speech on the scaffold, but desired the
ministers to assist him in his last moments, and they accordingly, with
other friends, proceeded there with him. The multitude, who had been
long expecting to see him on such an awful occasion, on his first
appearing on the scaffold, dressed in black, with a countenance and
demeanour, testifying great contrition, shewed the deepest signs of
commiseration and pity; and his lordship, at the same time, being
struck with such, a variety of dreadful objects at once, the
multitudes, the block, his coffin, the executioner, the instrument of
death, turned about to Mr. Hume, and said, "Hume! this is terrible;"
though without changing his voice or countenance. [Note: His person was
tall and graceful, his countenance mild, and his complexion pale; and
more so, as he had been indisposed.]

 After putting up a short prayer, concluding with a petition for
his Majesty King George and the royal family, in verification of his
declaration his speech, his lordship embraced, and took his last leave
of his friend. The executioner, who before had something administered
to keep him from fainting, was so affected with his lordship's
distress, and the awfulness of the scene, that on asking him
forgiveness, he burst into tears. My lord bid him take courage, giving
him at the same time, a purse with five guineas, and telling him that
he would drop his handkerchief as a signal for the stroke. He
proceeded, with the help of his gentleman, to make ready for the block,
by taking off his coat, and the bag from his hair, which was then
tucked up under a napkin cap, but this being made up so wide as not to
keep up his long hair, the making it less occasioned a little delay;
his neck being laid bare, tucking down the collar of his shirt, and
waistcoat, he kneeled down on a. black cushion at the block, and drew
his cap over his eyes, in doing which, as well as in putting up his
hair, his hands were observed. to shake; but, either to support or for
a more convenient posture of devotion, he happened to lay both his
hands, upon the block, which the executioner observing, prayed his
lordship to let them fall, lest they should be mangled or break the
blow. He was then told, that the neck of his waistcoat was in the way,
upon which he rose, and with the help of a friend took it off, and the
neck being made bare to the shoulders, he kneeled down as before: in
the mean time, when all things were ready for the execution, and the
black baize which hung over the rails of the scaffold, having, by
direction of the colonel of  the guards or the sheriffs, been turned up
that, the people might see all the circumstances of the execution; in
about two minutes (the time he before fixed) after he kneeled down, his
lordship dropping his handkerchief, the executioner at once severed his
head from his body,. except only a small part of the skin, which was
immediately divided by a gentle stroke; the head was received in a
piece of red baize, and with the body immediately put into the coffin.
The scaffold, was then cleared from the blood, fresh sawdust strewed,
and, that no appearance of a former execution might remain, the
executioner changed such of his clothes as appeared bloody.

 In the account said to be published by the authority of the
sheriffs, it is asserted the Lord Kilmarnock requested his head might
not be held up as usual, and declared to be the head of a traitor; and
that, for this reason that part of the ceremony was omitted, as the
sentence and law did not require it; but we are assured, in Mr.
Foster's account, that his lordship made no such request; and further,
that when he was informed that his head would be held up, and such,
proclamation made, it did, not affect him and he spoke of it as a
matter of no moment. All that he wished or desired was, 1. That the
executioner might not be, as represented to his lordship, "a good, sort
of man," thinking "a rough temper would be fitter for the purpose." 2.
That his coffin, instead of remaining in the hearse, might be set upon
the stage: and, 3. That four persons might be appointed. to receive the
head, that it might not roll about the stage, but be speedily, with his
body, put into the coffin.

 While this was doing, the Lord Balmerino, after having solemnly
recommended himself to the mercy of the Almighty, conversed cheerfully
with his friends, refreshed himself twice with a bit of bread and a
glass of wine, and desired the company to drink to ain degrae to
haiven, acquainting them that he had prepared a speech which he should
read on the scaffold, and therefore should there say nothing of its
contents. The Under-sheriff coming into his lordship's apartment to let
him know the stage was ready, he prevented him by immediately asking if
the affair was over with the Lord Kilmarnock, and being answered "It
is," he inquired how the executioner performed his office, and upon
receiving the account, said it was well done; then addressing himself
to the company, said, "Gentlemen, I shall detain you no longer," and
with an easy unaffected cheerfulness he saluted his friends, and
hastened to the scaffold, which he mounted with so easy an air as
astonished the spectators; his lordship was dressed in his regimentals,
a blue coat turned up with red, trimmed with brass buttons, (and a tie-
wig,) the same which he wore at the battle of Culloden; no circumstance
in his whole deportment shewed the least sign of fear or regret, and he
frequently reproved his friends for discovering either upon his
account. He walked several times round the scaffold, bowed to the
people; went to his coffin, read the inscription, and with a nod, said,
it is right; he then examined the block, which he called his pillow of
rest. His lordship putting on his spectacles, and taking a paper out of
his pocket, read it with an audible voice, which, so far from being
filled with passionate invective, mentioned his majesty as a prince of
the greatest magnanimity and mercy, at the same time that, through
erroneous political principles, it denied him a right to the allegiance
of his people: having delivered this paper to the sheriff, he called
for the executioner, who appearing, and being about to ask his
lordship's pardon, he said, "Friend, you need not ask me forgiveness,
the execution of your duty is commendable;" upon which, his lordship
gave, him three guineas, saying, "Friend, I never was rich, this is all
the money I have now, I wish it was more, and I am sorry I can add
nothing, to it but my coat and waistcoat, which he then took off,
together with his neck-cloth, and threw them on his coffin; putting on
a flannel waistcoat, which had been provided for the purpose, and then
taking a plaid cap out of his pocket, he put it on his head, saying he
died a Scotchman; after kneeling down at the block to adjust his
posture, and shew the executioner the signal for the stroke, which was
dropping his arms, he once more turned to his friends, and took his
last farewell, and, looking round, on the crowd, said, "Perhaps some
may think my behaviour too bold, but remember, Sir, (said he to a
gentleman who, stood near him) that I now declare it is the effect of
confidence in God, and a good conscience, and I should dissemble if I
should shew any signs of fear."

 Observing, the axe in the executioner's hand as he passed him, he
took it from him, felt the, edge, and returning it, clapped the
executioner on the shoulder to encourage him; he tucked down the collar
of his shirt and waistcoat, and shewed him where to strike, desiring
him to do it resolutely, for in that, says his lordship, will consist
your kindness.

 He went to the side of the stage, and called up the warder, to
whom he gave some money, asked which was his hearse, and ordered the
man to drive near. Immediately, without trembling or changing
countenance, he again knelt down at the block, and having with his arms
stretched out, said, "O Lord, reward my friends, forgive my enemies,
and receive my soul," he gave the signal by letting them fall. But his
uncommon firmness and intrepidity, and the unexpected suddenness of the
signal so surprised the executioner, that though he struck the part
directed, the blow was not given with strength enough to wound him very
deep; on which it seemed as if he made an effort to turn his, head
towards the executioner, and the under jaw fell, and returned very
quick, like anger and gnashing the teeth; but it could not be
otherwise, the part being convulsed. A second blow immediately
succeeding the first, rendered him, however, quite insensible, and a
third finished the work.

 [Note: If we were to draw his character, abstracted from the
consideration of his being an enemy to the present happy government, we
should call him a blunt, resolute man, who would, if his principles had
not been tainted with Jacobitism, have appeared honest in the eyes of
those who love sincerity; but he was not so happy as to be loyal. His
person was very plain, his shape clumsy, but his make strong, and had
no marks about him of the polite gentleman, though his seeming
sincerity recompensed all those defects. He was illiterate in respect
of his birth, but rather from a total want of application to letters,
than want of ability: several quaint stories related of him, which seem
to be the growth of wanton and fertile imagination, which is not at all
to be wondered at ,in times that afford so much matter for invention.
He left a lady behind him, whom he called his Peggy; to whom, at his
request, His Majesty allowed 50l., a year: whether any Children, we are
not able to say.]

 His head was received in a piece of red baize, and with his body
put into the coffin, which, at his particular request, was placed on
that of the late Marquis of Tullibardines's, in St. Peter's church in
the Tower, all three lords lying in one grave.

 During the whole course of the solemnity, although the hill, the
scaffoldings, and houses, were crowded full of spectators, all persons
attended with uncommon decency, and evenness of temper; which evinces
how much the people entered into the rectitude of the execution, though
too humane to rejoice in the catastrophe.

 Lord Balmerino had but a small estate, though ground-landlord and
lord of the manor of Colcon, a long street in the suburbs of Edinburgh,
leading to Leith, and had also some other small possessions in the
shire of Fife. His lady came to London soon after him, and frequently
attended him during his confinement in the Tower, and had lodgings in
East Smithfield. She was at dinner with him when the warrant came for
his execution the Monday following, and being very much surprised, he
desired her not to be concerned at it; "If the king had given me
mercy," said he, "I should have been glad of it; but since it is
otherwise, I am very easy; for it is what I have expected, and
therefore it does not at all surprise me." His lady seemed very
disconsolate and rose immediately from table; on which he started from
his chair, and said," Pray, my lady, sit down for it shall not spoil my
dinner;" upon which her ladyship sat down again, but could not eat.

 Several more of his sayings were related as remarkable, among
others, that being advised to take care of his person, he replied, "It
would be thought very imprudent in  a man to repair an old house, when
the lease of it was so near expiring."

CHARACTER of ARTHUR LORD BALMERINO

Quique metus omnes, & inexorabile Fatum
Subjecitit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari. VIRG.

 The abhorrence of pain is a principle implanted in all animals as
the means of: their preservation. To this in Men is added the fear of
death; and that is still heightened, by apprehensions of what may
happen afterwards. Yet pain is often unavoidable; and death, with its
consequences, some time or other absolutely necessary. Hence arises the
merit of courage, which consists in facing intrepidly and suffering
cheerfully these evils, when they become either inevitable or
declinable only on unworthy terms. Great then are undoubtedly the
obligations of mankind for those who, on such occasions, treat these
terrors with the contempt they really deserve, and give us an useful
lesson and example how to behave in an emergency which we ought every
day to expect, and which we must one day certainly experience. The
Greeks and Romans, therefore, looked even on suicide in amiable light.
It was with them the consummation of a perfect character; and the
extenuation of the most faulty. Nor were they in this altogether
impolitic; hence flowed that appetite for danger; that prodigality of
life, which they knew so skilfully to direct to the publics emoluments.
But heaven-instructed Christians have unlearnt this Pagan doctrine; and
yet, amongst the primitives what was accounted more meritorious than a
courageous, calm submission to civil punishment, appears the constant
aim of the martyrs, and had the happiest effects, as to the
promulgation of their precepts.

 There has been lately seen among us a noble instance of the
superiority of a great mind to fear, which, when passion and prejudice
have subsided, will reflect honour on our times, and even be
advantageous to former, as it bestows credibility on their most
exaggerated heroical relations. I mean the death of the late Lord
Balmerino.

 But, before we proceed, it may be proper to declare, that, if I
would vindicate and extol his death, I by no means. intend to justify
or excuse his life. I give up, with all good Englishmen, the French
soldier, the Jacobite, the double rebel, concur with them in the
rectitude of his sentence, and the necessity of its execution. It is at
the Tower gate, that I (with the sheriffs) take him up:-- There the
hero commences.

 I will not injure, by comparing, as has been hitherto done, with
pusillanimity itself, a fortitude that wants no foil, which all
antiquity can scarcely parallel. Lord Balmerino's carriage in the
procession from the Tower, was easy and cheerful, his conversation in
the preparatory room, rational and pertinent; his interview with his
fellow-sufferer open and generous; when on the scaffold, he had so
little of the formal, piteous countenance there usually exhibited, that
those who were unacquainted with his person, knew not for some time
that he was there. He told the officers that he would take up but
little of their time; that he was sensible the greatest part of it was
already elapsed; that he had had frequent opportunities to look into
his future concerns, and should not settle this account in public.
Accordingly, having with composure given the necessary directions, he
prepared for the blow with the greatest alacrity, and with an
expedition, which was only interrupted by an act of generosity, and a
mistake which, to a weak mind, might have been productive of extreme
disorder, but served only to elevate his character. And though, through
the whole of this transaction, nothing appeared but intrepidity and
constancy, yet this hero confessed the man. He had his fears, but they
were glorious ones: he feared, he said, that his conduct would be
thought too bold; willingly, would he have seemed less so, but could
not play the hypocrite. So far was he from an affected ostentation of
his prodigious courage, a courage which was attended by the most
desirable effect, the most indisputable evidence. This nobleman parted
with life with such unconcern as convinced the spectators that was not
only to him, but really in itself, of no importance. The black
solemnity could not obscure his serenity, nor imprint on them a gloom
not to be dispelled by such lustre. They found there was nothing
unnatural in dying, nothing. horrible in death itself; they felt no
emotion.

 Thus greatly, unlamented, fell Arthur Lord Balmerino, a man of
the most incredible courage, the most commendable sincerity, the most
engaging simplicity, who was an honour to the worst cause, and would
have been an ornament to the best; whose faults wilt one day be
forgotten, and his virtues remembered.

 And sure the little here said (with strict truth) in his favour,
cannot possibly give offence, to the most zealous loyalist. There is a
justice surely due to the characters of gallant enemies, our law never
intends to execute reputations, and its most rigid sentence, pronounced
on the least pardonable occasion, confines the punishment to the body
merely, and in the midst of judgment remembers mercy.


CHARLES RATCLIFFE,
Who assumed the title of Earl of Derwentwater

 This gentleman was one of those who took part in the rebellion,
under a commission from the King Of France, and was taken, with many
others, on his passage to Scotland, by the Seahorse frigate. He was the
youngest brother of the Earl of Derwentwater, who was attainted and
executed in the first rebellion, and his titles and estates
consequently forfeited to the crown. He was, with his brother, taken at
Preston; tried, convicted, and, condemned, but several times respited,
and would probably have been pardoned, had he not, with thirteen
others, made his escape out of a room called the Castle in Newgate,
through a small door which had been accidentally left open, leading to
the debtors Side, where the turnkey; not knowing them, let them out of
the prison, supposing they, were persons who had come to see their
friends.

 He immediately procured a passage to France; and from thence
followed the Pretender to Rome, subsisting on such petty pension as his
master could allow him. Returning some short time afterwards, he
married the widow of Lord Newborough, by whom he had a son. In 1733 he
came to England; and resided in Pall Mall, without any molestation,
though known to the ministry. [Note: Some years after the quelling of
the last rebellion, the Pretender came in disguise to view London. This
was a natural; but dangerous curiosity, to behold the place where his
grandfather, King James II. had been on the throne. On the ministers
being apprised of this circumstance, in haste went to King George II.
with the information; and recommended his immediate apprehension. The
monarch, with one of his shrewd answers, for which he was remarkable,
replied, "No -- let the poor man satisfy his curiosity; when done, he
will quietly go back to France." The King's observation was verified.]

 He returned to France, and in 1735 again came to England to
solicit his pardon, but without success, though he appeared publicly,
and visited several families particularly in Essex. Returning again to
France, he unfortunately accepted of the French king's commission, to
act as an officer in the rebellion, and was taken as we have already
described.

 On the 22d of October, 1746, he was brought to the bar of the
Court of King's Bench and was arraigned, but refused to hold up his
hand, or acknowledge any other jurisdiction than that of the King of
France, insisting on a commission he had in his pocket from him, and
appealing to the Sicilian ambassador, who was then in court, for the
authenticity thereof. On hearing his former indictment and conviction
read; he said, that he was not the Charles Ratcliffe therein named, but
that he was the Earl of Derwentwater, and his counsel informed the
court, that such was the plea they meant to abide by, and thereupon,
issue was gained.

 Then the counsel for the prisoner moved to put off his trial,
upon his own affidavit (to which he has subscribed himself the Count de
Derwentwater,) that two of his material witnesses, naming them, were
abroad, without whose testimony he could not safely go to trial. To
which affidavit the counsel for the crown objected, as not being
entitled as in the cause before the court; nor the two witnesses sworn
to be material, in the issue then joined between the king and the
prisoner; and also, because the prisoner had not so much as undertaken
to swear for himself, that he was not the person, which, as it was a
fact entirely in his own knowledge, ought to be required of him, if he
would entitle himself to this favour from the court; this being a
proceeding very different from the trial upon a not guilty, in an
original prosecution on a charge of high treason or other crime, the
identity of the person being the single fact to be inquired of, and a
case in which the crown had a right by law to proceed instanter. Upon
this the prisoner amended his affidavit as to the witnesses, but
refused to supply it so far as to swear he was not the same person. And
the court said, this was a new precedent, there being no instance of
any application to put off the trial of a question of this sort before;
and that this was like an inquest of office, in order to inform the
conscience of the court, and what the public had a right to proceed in
instanter. And therefore that the prisoner ought to give all reasonable
satisfaction to induce them to grant such a favour as the prisoner
desired, for they could not in conscience and justice to the public
indulge him, without a reasonable satisfaction that his plea was true.
But the prisoner still refusing to swear to the truth of his plea, the
jury were called, and after two or three of the panel had been sworn,
Mr. Ratcliffe challenged the next that was called, as of right, without
assigning any reason; but upon debate of the question, how far he had
right to challenge, the court said, it had been determined, before, in
all the latter cases, and particularly in the case of one Jordan, that
the prisoner, in such a case  as this had no peremptory challenge; upon
which the rest of the jury were sworn, and after a clear evidence of
the identity of the person on the part of the crown, the prisoner
producing none on his part, the jury withdrew about ten minutes, and
then found their verdict, that he was the same Charles Ratcliffe who
was convicted of high treason, in the year 1715. Then the attorney-
general moved to have execution awarded against the prisoner on his
former judgment; to which the prisoner's counsel objected, tendering a
plea of pardon by act of parliament, in bar of execution. But the court
said, as he had already pleaded such a plea as he chose to rely on, and
as that was found against him, nothing more remained for them to do at
present but to award execution; and if his counsel had any thing to
offer in his behalf, they would have time to do it before the day of
execution; and ordered a rule to be made for the proper writs for his
execution on the  8th of next month, and remanded the prisoner to the
Tower. He was about five feet ten inches high, upwards of fifty, was
dressed in scarlet, faced with black velvet, and gold buttons, a gold-
laced waistcoat, bag wig, and had hat with a white feather.

 His design in styling himself Earl of Derwentwater, was, that he
might pass for Francis, his younger brother, who went to France before
1715; but was thought to be dead. He would not call the Lord Chief
Justice lord, because the title of earl was not given him: he refused
to hold up his hand at the bar, and being told that as a gentleman he
ought to comply, and that his own counsel would satisfy him that it was
only a form of the court, he said; I know many things, that I will not
advise with my counsel upon. On hearing the rule for his execution, he
desired time, because he and Lord Moreton (in the Bastile at Paris)
should take the same journey at the same time.

 About eight o' clock on the 8th of December, two troops of life-
guards, and one troop of horse-guards, marched through the city for
Little Tower-hill, where they were joined by a battalion of foot-
guards, to attend the execution of Charles Ratcliffe, Esq. About ten o'
clock the block, with a cushion, both covered with black, were brought
up, and fixed upon the stage; and soon after Mr. Ratcliffe's coffin,
covered with black velvet, with eight handles, on which with the nails
were gilt with gold, but there was no plate, or any inscription upon
it. At near eleven the sheriffs, Mr. Alderman Winterbottom, and Mr.
Alderman Alsop, with their officers, came to see if the scaffold was
finished, (the carpenters, &c. who had very short notice; having worked
all day on Sunday and the ensuing night,) and if every thing was
prepared for  Mr. Ratcliffe's reception; which, being to their
satisfaction, they went to the Tower, and demanded the body of Mr;
Ratcliffe, of General Williamson, deputy governor; upon being
surrendered, he was first put into a landau, and carried over the
Wharf, at the end of which he was put into a mourning coach, and
conveyed into a small booth joining to the stairs of the scaffold,
lined with black, where he spent about half an hour in devotion, and
then, preceded by the sheriffs, the divine, and some gentlemen his
friends. When he came upon the scaffold, he took leave of his friends
with great serenity and calmness of mind, and having spoken a few words
to the executioner, gave him a purse of ten guineas, put on a damask
cap, knelt down to prayers, which lasted about seven. minutes, all the
spectators on the scaffold kneeling: with him. Prayers being over, he
pulled off his clothes, and put his head to the block, from whence he
soon got up, and having spoke a few words, he knelt down to it, and
fixing his head, in about two minutes gave the signal to the
executioner, who at three blows struck it off, which was received in a
scarlet cloth, held for that purpose. He was dressed in scarlet, faced
with black velvet, trimmed with gold, a  gold-laced waistcoat, and a
white feather in his hat. He behaved with the greatest fortitude and
coolness of temper, and was no way shocked at the approach of death.

 His body was immediately put into the coffin, and carried back in
a hearse to the Tower; and the scaffold booth, and all the boards
belonging to them, were cleared away in the afternoon. He behaved
himself very alert until the 4th, when he received a letter from his
niece, the Lady Petre, which engaged him to appear in a more serious
manner, agreeably to his unhappy fate. His corpse was on the 1lth,
carried in a hearse, attended by two mourning coaches, to St. Giles in
the fields, and there interred with the remains of the late Earl of
Derwentwater, according to his desire, with this inscription on his
coffin:

 Carolus Ratcliffe, Comes de Derwentwater, decollatus die 8
Decembris, 1746; Ætatis 53 Requiescat in pace.

 It seems the Derwentwater estate was only confiscated to the
crown for the life of Charles Ratcliffe, Esq.; but by a clause in an
act of parliament passed some years since, which says, that the issue
of any person attainted of high treason, born and bred in any foreign
dominion, and a Roman Catholic, shall forfeit his reversion. Such
estate, and the. remainder shall for ever be fixed in the crown, his
son was absolutely deprived of any title or interest in the affluent
fortune of that ancient family, to the amount of more than 200,000l.

 This unhappy gentleman was the youngest brother of James Earl of
Derwentwater, who was executed in 1716; they were sons of Sir Francis
Radcliffe, by the lady Mary Tudor, natural daughter to King Charles II
by Mrs. Mary Davis.

 He died in the principles in which he had lived, and was so
zealous a Papist, that on the absurdities of some things which are held
sacred by the church of Rome being objected to him, he replied, "That
for every tenet of that church, repugnant to reason, in which she
requires an implicit belief, he wished there were twenty, that he might
thereby have a nobler opportunity of exercising and displaying his
faith."


THOMAS CAPPOCK
The rebel bishop of Carlisle.
{Illustration: Thomas Cappock}

 WE have already, in our statement of the strength of the garrison
at Carlisle, announced a bishop, created by the Pretender. Such
anecdotes of this enthusiastic rebel, as we have been able to glean
from the public prints of the year of this rebellion, we have put
together, in order to allot to this would-be Right Reverend Father in
God, a memoir independent of the treacherous group among whom he swung
on the gallows.

 On the 12th of August, 1746, the Lord Chief Baron Parker, Baron
Clarke, Judges Burnett and Dennison, arrived at Carlisle, and by virtue
of a special commission for that purpose to them directed, convened a
Court, for the purpose of trying the rebels found in arms, on the
surrender of Carlisle. On the 14th the Scotch prisoners were arraigned,
but the witnesses in behalf of the crown (also Scotchmen) refused to
swear in the form prescribed by the laws of England. The judges
therefore deferred the trial in order to consult on this contumacy; but
next morning allowed them to take the oath after the Scotch form. Bills
of indictment were found against all the officers, as well as bishop
Cappock; but the common men, amounting to near four hundred, were
ordered to cast lots; and of every twenty nineteen were to be
transported, and the twentieth put upon his trial for high treason.
Some few refused this lenity, depending upon so deceiving the evidence
as not to recognize them; for this purpose they cut off each others
hair, changed their clothing, and by every other method which they
could devise, disguised themselves.

 When the grand jury presented true bills, the whole of those
indicted were brought to the bar, whom the Lord Chief Baron told that
the Court desired them to choose what counsel they pleased, with a
solicitor -- that the Court had given orders to their clerk, to make
out subpoenas for them, gratis, and by virtue thereof, to bring forward
such witnesses as they imagined could, in any manner, tend to their
exculpation. [Note: We make here an involuntary pause upon the humanity
of the English law, extended to the utmost in this case, to men taken
in arms against their Sovereign and we rather doubt, whether the
Pretender, had he gained his cause, would have allotted his prisoners
quite so fair a trial.]

 In order to give them every chance for this end, the Judges
adjourned the Court, and proceeded to the city of York, where a number
of more rebels were in confinement, and where bills were found against
seventy-nine of them. It was near a month before they returned to
Carlisle. On the 9th of September, 1762, [they] were arraigned at the
bar of the court of the latter city, of whom fifty-nine pleaded not
guilty. On the 10th forty-five more were brought up, and all pleaded
not guilty, except three, one of whom was a desperate turbulent fellow,
a rebel captain named Robert Taylor, who had repeatedly vaunted that he
would take Edinburgh castle in three days. The next day twelve more
were arraigned, and among them was the more immediate subject of the
present page -- the rebellious bishop.

 He appeared at the bar in his gown and cassock, assumed much
confidence, and appeared to entertain no idea that he could be
convicted. He made a speech to the Court and Jury, which chiefly went
to shew, that he joined the rebels by compulsion alone. He called his
father, and one Mary Humphries, to substantiate this assertion; but
their evidence fell far short of so doing. A witness, however, proved,
that the prisoner had made an attempt to escape from the rebels. On the
other side, it was proved, that he voluntarily went with the rebels
from Manchester to Derby, and thence back to Carlisle. It further
appeared, that wherever the rebels went he read public prayers for King
James, and Charles Prince of Wales, Regent of England. At Manchester he
preached in one of the churches, and took his text from Psal. xcvii.
"The Lord is King, the earth may be glad thereof." At Carlisle he
appeared the Church Militant, with a hanger by his side, a plaid sash,
and white cockade, acting also as a Quarter Master. Another witness
proved, that this fighting bishop told him of his engaging two of the
kings soldiers, and taking them both prisoners; and he vaunted, that
his Prince had offered battle to the Duke of Cumberland, who run away;
that they (the rebels) returned to Scotland, only to join Lord George
Drummond, who had landed with many thousand French, to assist their
cause. [Note:  This gasconade had a spice of the French in it, from
whom the mock bishop doubtless acquired this Bobadil-like boasting. We
have even seen the reverse; the Duke constantly pursuing the
Pretender.] His evidence, Miss Humphries, was shewn a letter, which she
acknowledged to be the hand-writing of the bishop; wherein he had the
effrontery to tell the barefaced falsehood of the Duke of Cumberland
ordering him to be kept on half a pound of bread per day, and nasty
water, because he advised to give battle to him at Stanwix, and
protested against the surrender of Carlisle.

 The jury, notwithstanding the confidence apparent in the prisoner
through his whole trial, which lasted sit hours, in two minutes found
him guilty. The priest, it seems, still did not abandon himself to his
fate; for in a few days it was discovered, that he and six more
condemned rebels, had sawed off their irons, and were about to attempt
an escape. The instrument with which they effected this,. was prepared
for the purpose by a new and curious method. It is thus described,
"They laid a silk handkerchief singly over the mouth of a drinking-
glass, and tied it hard at the bottom, then struck the edge of a case
knife on the brim of the glass, (thus covered to prevent noise) till it
became a saw. With such knives they cut their irons, and when the teeth
were blunt, they had recourse to the glass to renew it. A knife will
not cut a handkerchief when struck upon it in this manner."

 Cappock,  with the other convicted rebels, were hanged at
Carlisle, on the 28th of October, 1746.

 [Note: Another furious non-juring priest was taken among the
rebels, of the name of Robert Lyon. This turbulent rebel, under the
gallows at Penrith, read a long and infamous libel against the King and
Government of England, and the sheriff, to his disgrace, permitted him
to harangue, in a similar strain near half an hour, with the halter
round his neck; concluding with this hardened exclamation, "If my life
was now given to me, I would still continue in the same principles, and
assist the virtuous cause of King James."]


LORD LOVAT

Beheaded for High Treason, at the age of Eighty, on 9th
of April, 1747


LORD LOVAT, who in 1715 had been a supporter of the House of
Hanover, in 1745 changed sides, and became a friend of the party
which he had before opposed.

His career in life began in the year 1692, when he was appointed
a captain in Lord Tullibardine's regiment, but he resigned his
commission in order to prosecute his claim to be the Chief of
the Frasers; in order to effect which he laid a scheme to get
possession of the heiress of Lovat, who was about to be married
to a son of Lord Salton. He raised a clan, who violently seized
the young lord, and, erecting a gibbet, showed it to him and his
father, threatening their instant deaths unless they
relinquished the contract made for the heiress of Lovat. To
this, fearing for their lives, they consented; but, still unable
to get possession of the young lady, he seized the Dowager Lady
Lovat in her own house, caused a priest to marry them against
her consent, cut her stays open with his dirk, and, assisted by
his ruffians, tore off her clothes, forced her into bed, to
which he followed her, and then called his companions to witness
the consummation of the outrageous marriage. For this breach of
the peace he was indicted, but fled from justice; but he was
nevertheless tried for rape, and for treason, in opposing the
laws with an armed force; and sentence of outlawry was
pronounced against him. Having fled to France, he turned Papist,
ingratiated himself with the Pretender, and was rewarded by him
with a commission; but he was apprehended on the remonstrance of
the English ambassador in Paris, and lodged in the Bastille,
where, having remained some years, he procured his liberty by
taking priests' orders, under colour of which he became a Jesuit
in the College of St Omer.

In the first rebellion of 1715 he returned to Scotland, and,
joining the King's troops, assisted them in seizing Inverness
from the rebels; for which service he got the title of Lovat,
was appointed to command, and had other favours conferred upon
him. In the rebellion of which we are now treating he turned
sides and joined the Pretender, a step treacherous in the
extreme. When taken, he was old, unwieldy and almost helpless;
although in that condition he had been possessed of infinite
resources to assist the rebellion. He petitioned the Duke of
Cumberland for mercy; and, hoping to work upon his feelings,
recapitulated his former services, the favours that he had
received from the Duke's grandfather, King George I., and dwelt
much upon his access to Court, saying he had carried him to whom
he now sued for life in his arms and, when a baby, held him up
while his grandsire fondled him.

On the 9th of March, 1747, however, he was taken from the Tower
to Westminster Hall for trial, and, the evidence adduced clearly
proving his guilt to be of no ordinary character, he was
convicted. He was next day brought up for judgment, and sentence
of death was pronounced.

That this sentence was not ill deserved appears from a speech of
Lord Belhaven, delivered in the last Parliament held in
Edinburgh, in 1706, in which his lordship, speaking of this
nobleman, then Captain Fraser, on occasion of the Scots plot,
commonly called Fraser's plot, says that "he deserved, if
practicable, to have been hanged five several times, in five
different places, and upon five different accounts at least: as
having been notoriously a traitor to the Court of St James's, a
traitor to the Court of St Germain's, a traitor to the Court of
Versailles and a traitor to his own country of Scotland; in
being not only an avowed and restless enemy to the peace and
quiet of its established government and constitution, both in
Church and State, but likewise, a vile Proteus-like apostate and
a seducer of others in point of religion, as the tide or wind
changed; and, moreover, that (abstracted from all those, his
multiplied acts of treason, abroad and at home) he deserved to
be hanged as a condemned criminal, outlaw and fugitive, for the
barbarous, cruel and most flagitious rape he had, with the
assistance of some of his vile and abominable band of ruffians,
violently committed on the body of a right honourable and
virtuous lady, the widow of the late Lord Lovat, and sister of
his Grace the late Duke of Atholl. Nay, so hardened was Captain
Fraser, that he audaciously erected a gallows, and threatened to
hang thereon one of the said lady's brothers and some other
gentlemen of quality who accompanied him in going to rescue him
out of that criminal's cruel hand."

On the morning fixed for his execution, 9th of April, 1747, Lord
Lovat, who was now in his eightieth year, and very large and
unwieldy in his person, awoke at about three o'clock, and was
heard to pray with great devotion. At five o'clock he arose, and
asked for a glass of wine-and-water, and at eight o'clock he
desired that his wig might be sent, that the barber might have
time to comb it out genteelly, and he then provided himself with
a purse to hold the money which he intended for the executioner.
At about half-past nine o'clock he ate heartily of minced veal,
and ordered that his friends might be provided with coffee and
chocolate, and at eleven o'clock the sheriffs came to demand his
body. He then requested his friends to retire while he said a
short prayer; but he soon called them back, and said that he was
ready.

At the bottom of the first pair of stairs, General Williamson
invited him into his room to rest himself, which he did, and on
his entrance, paid his respects to the company politely, and
talked freely. He desired of the general, in French, that he
might take leave of his lady, and thank her for her civilities:
but the general told his lordship, in the same language, that
she was too much affected with his lordship's misfortunes to
bear the shock of seeing him, and therefore hoped his lordship
would excuse her. He then took his leave, and proceeded. At the
door he bowed to the spectators, and was conveyed from thence to
the outer gate in the governor's coach, where he was delivered
to the sheriffs, who conducted him in another coach to the house
near the scaffold, in which was a room lined with black cloth,
and hung with sconces, for his reception. His friends were at
first denied entrance but, upon application made by his lordship
to the sheriffs for their admittance, it was granted. Soon
after, his lordship, addressing himself to the sheriffs, thanked
them for the favour, and taking a paper out of his pocket,
delivered it to one of them, saying he should make no speech and
that they might give the word of command when they pleased. A
gentleman present beginning to react a prayer to his lordship
while he was sitting, he called one of the warders to help him
up, that he might kneel. He then prayed silently a short time,
and afterwards sat again in his chair. Being asked by one of the 
sheriffs if he would refresh himself with a glass of wine, he
declined it, because no warm water could be had to mix with it,
and took a little burnt brandy and bitters in its stead. He
requested that his clothes might be delivered to his friends
with his corpse, and said for that reason he should give the
executioner ten guineas. He also desired of the sheriffs that
his head might be received in a cloth, and put into the coffin,
which the sheriffs, after conferring with some gentlemen
present, promised should be done; as also that the holding up
the head at the corners of the scaffold should be dispensed
with, as it had been of late years at the execution of lords.

When his lordship was going up the steps to the scaffold,
assisted by two warders, he looked round, and, seeing so great a
concourse of people, "God save us," says he, "why should there
be such a bustle about taking off an old grey head, that cannot
get up three steps without three bodies to support it?"

Turning about, and observing one of his friends much dejected,
he clapped him on the shoulder, saying: "Cheer up thy heart,
man! I am not afraid; why should you be so?" As soon as he came
upon the scaffold he asked for the executioner, and presented
him with ten guineas in a purse, and then, desiring to see the
axe, he felt the edge and said he "believed it would do." Soon
after, he rose from the chair which was placed for him and
looked at the inscription on his coffin, and on sitting down
again he repeated from Horace: "Dulce et decorum est pro patria
mori" [it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country] and
afterwards from Ovid [Met. 13. 140-1]: "Nam genus et proavos, et
quae non fecimus ipsi, Vix ea nostra voco." [As for things done
by our ancestors and other people than ourselves, I say we can
have no credit for them]

He then desired all the people to stand off, except his two
warders, who supported his lordship while he said a prayer;
after which he called his solicitor and agent in Scotland, Mr W.
Fraser, and, presenting his gold-headed cane, said, "I deliver
you this cane in token of my sense of your faithful services,
and of my committing to you all the power I have upon earth,"
and then embraced him. He also called for Mr James Fraser, and
said: "My dear James, I am going to heaven; but you must
continue to crawl a little longer in this evil world." And,
taking leave of both, he delivered his hat, wig and clothes to
Mr William Fraser, desiring him to see that the executioner did
not touch them. He ordered his cap to be put on, and, unloosing
his neckcloth and the collar of his shirt, knelt down at the
block, and pulled the cloth which was to receive his head close
to him. But, being placed too near the block, the executioner
desired him to remove a little farther back, which with the
warders' assistance was immediately done; and, his neck being
properly placed, he told the executioner he would say a short
prayer and then give the signal by dropping his handkerchief. In
this posture he remained about half-a-minute, and then, on
throwing his handkerchief on the floor, the executioner at one
blow cut off his head, which was received in the cloth, and,
with his body was put into the coffin and carried in a hearse
back to the Tower, where it was interred near the bodies of the
other lords.

His lordship professed himself a papist, and, at his request,
was attended by Mr Baker. attached to the chapel of the
Sardinian ambassador; and though he insisted much on the
services he had done the royal family in 1715, yet he declared,
but a few days before his death, that he had been concerned in
all the schemes formed for restoring the house of Stuart since
he was fifteen years old.

This nobleman's intellectual powers seem to have been
considerable and his learning extensive. He spoke Latin, French,
and English, fluently, and other modern languages intelligibly.
He studied at Aberdeen, and disputed his philosophy in Greek;
and, though he was educated a protestant, yet, after three
years' study of divinity and controversy, he turned papist. He
maintained an appearance of that facetious disposition for which
he was remarkable, to the last ; and seems to have taken great
pains to quit the stage, not only with decency, but with that
dignity which is thought to distinguish the good conscience and
the noble mind.

The following lines upon the execution of these noblemen are
said to have been repeated with great energy by Dr Johnson,
although there appears to he no ground for supposing that they
were the Doctor's own composition. They first appeared in the
Gentleman's Magazine:

Pitied by gentle minds, Kilmarnock died
The Brave, Balmerino, were on thy side;
Ratcliffe, unhappy in his crimes of youth,
Steady in what he still mistook for truth,
Beheld his death so decently unmoved,
The soft lamented, and the brave approved.
But Lovat's end indifferently we view,
True to no King, to no religion true:
No fair forgets the ruin he has done;
No child laments the tyrant of his son;
No Tory pities thinking what he was
No Whig compassions, for he left the cause;
The brave regret not, for he was not brave;
The honest mourn not, knowing him a knave."

FRANCIS TOWNLEY, JEMMY DAWSON AND OTHERS
Lesser rebels against his Majesty

 FRANCIS TOWNLEY, Late Rebel Colonel of their Manchester Regiment,
was indicted at the sessions held at St. Margaret's Hall, for the part
he had acted in the rebellion. His counsel insisted that he was not a
subject of Great Britain, being an officer in the service of the French
king; but this the judges observed was a circumstance against him; as
he had quitted his native country., and engaged in the French service,
without the consent of his lawful sovereign. Some other motions,
equally frivolous, being overruled, he was capitally convicted, and
adjudged to die.

 Colonel Townley was the son of -- Townley, Esq; of Townley-Hall
in Lancashire, who was tried for the share he had in the rebellion of
1715, but acquitted.

 Young Mr. Townley being educated in the rigid principles of
popery, went abroad in early life, and entering into the service of
France, distinguished himself in the military line, particularly at the
siege of Phillipsbourg.

 Coming to England in 1742, he associated chiefly with those of
the Catholic religion; and it was thought that he induced many of them
to take an active part in the rebellion. When the Pretender came to
Manchester, Townley offered his services: which being accepted, he was
commissioned to raise a regiment, which he soon completed; but being
made a prisoner at Carlisle, he was conducted to London.

 After conviction he behaved in the most reserved manner, scarcely
speaking to any one but his brethren in misfortune.

 John Barkwick, formerly a linen-draper of Manchester, but
afterwards a lieutenant, was the next person tried and convicted. This
man was distinguished by living elegantly in prison; and it was
remarked that the prisoners in general were amply supplied with the
necessaries of life, by the bounty of their friends. It is asserted
that they expected to be treated as prisoners of war; but it is not
credible that they could be so totally ignorant of the law of nations,
or their duty as subjects.

 James Dawson, a native of Lancashire, was genteelly born, and
liberally educated at St. John's College, in Cambridge. After leaving
the University he repaired to Manchester, where the Pretender gave him
a captain's commission. Dawson had paid his addresses to a young lady,
to whom he was to have been married immediately after his enlargement,
if the solicitations that were made for his pardon had been attended
with the desired effect.

 The circumstance of his love, and the melancholy that was
produced by his death, is so admirably touched in the following ballad
of Shenstone, that Dawson's story will probably be remembered and
regretted when that of the rest of the rebels will be forgotten. A man
must have lost all feeling who can read this beautiful ballad, equally
remarkable for its elegance, its simplicity, and its truth, and remain
unaffected.

JEMMY DAWSON, A BALLAD.

Come listen to my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts and lovers dear; 
Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh,
Nor will you blush to shed a tear.

And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,
Do thou a pensive ear incline,
For thou canst weep at ev'ry woe,
And pity ev'ry plaint but mine. --

Young Dawson was a gallant youth,
A brighter never trod the plain;
And, well he lov'd one charming maid,
And dearly was he lov'd again.

One tender maid she lov'd him dear,
Of gentle blood the damsel came,
And faultless was her beauteous form;
And spotless, was her virgin fame.

But curse on party's hateful strife,
That led the faithful youth astray,
The day the rebel clans appeared:
O! had he never seen that day!

Their colours and their sash he wore,
And in their fatal dress was found; 
And now he must that death endure,
Which gives the brave the keenest wound.

How pale was then his true-love's cheek, 
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear? 
For never yet did Alpine snows,
So pale, nor yet so chill appear.

Yet might sweet mercy find a place,
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes, 
O George! without a pray'r for thee,
My orisons should never close.

The gracious prince that gives him life, 
Would crown a never dying flame, 
And ev'ry tender babe I bore,
Should learn to lisp the givers name.

But though, dear youth, thou should'st be dragg'd 
To yonder ignominious tree,
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend,
To share thy bitter fate with thee.

O then her mourning coach was call'd;
The sledge mov'd slowly on before; 
Though borne in a triumphal car,
She had not lov'd her fav'rite more.

She follow'd him, prepar'd to view. 
The terrible behests of law;
And the last scene of Jemmy's woes, 
With calm and steadfast eyes she saw.

Distorted was that blooming face,
Which she had fondly lov'd so long; 
And stifled was that tuneful breath, 
Which in her praise had sweetly sung:

And sever'd was that beauteous neck,
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd; 
And mangled was that beauteous breast, 
On which her love-sick head repos'd:

And ravish'd was that constant heart,
She did to ev'ry heart prefer?
For though it could his king forget,
'Twas true and loyal still to her.

Amidst those unrelenting flames,
She bore this constant heart to see; 
But when 'twas moulder'd into dust,
Yet, yet, she cry'd, I'll follow thee,,

My death, my death, can only shew,
The pure and lasting love I bore; 
Accept, O Heav'n! of woes like ours,
And let us, let us weep no more.

The dismal scene was o'er and past,
The lover's mournful hearse retied;
The maid drew back her languid head,
And, sighing forth his name, expir'd.

Tho' Justice ever must prevail,
The tear my Kitty sheds is due: 
For seldom shall we, hear a tale;
So sad, so tender, and so true.

 Another of the parties tried on this occasion was George
Fletcher, who had been a linen-draper at Stratford near Manchester,
managing the business for his mother, who, on her knees, persuaded him
not to engage with the rebels; and offered him 10001. on the condition
that he would not embark in so desperate an enterprize; but he was deaf
to her entreaties, and so ambitious of serving the Pretender, that he
gave his secretary, Mr. Murray, fifty pounds for a captain's
commission. Fletcher having induced one Maddox to enlist, the man would
have deserted, but he produced a handful of gold, and said he should
not want money if he would fight for the Pretender; which induced
Maddox to keep his station.

 Thomas Syddall was a barber at Manchester, and had supported a
wife and five children in a creditable way, till the rebels troops
arrived at that place. His father was hanged at Manchester, for his
concern in the rebellion of 1715, and his head had remained on the
market-cross till the year 1745, when it was taken down on the arrival
of the Pretender. Syddall, who was a rigid Roman Catholic, now vowed
revenge against the Protestants, with a view to accomplish which, he
obtained an ensign's commission from the Pretender's secretary. The
attachment of this man to the Pretender was so extraordinary, that
almost in the last moment of his life, he prayed that his children
might be ready to assert the same at the hazard of their lives.

 Thomas Chadwick was tried immediately after Syddall. He was a
tallow-chandler, but had not long followed business; for, associating
with persons of Jacobitical principles, he accepted the commission of
lieutenant in the Pretender's service; and he was tried for, and
convicted of acting in that capacity. Chadwick appeared to have great
resolution; and told his friends that death, in any shape, had no
terrors for him: but his courage forsook him, and he seemed greatly
agitated on taking leave of his father the night before his execution.

 Thomas Deacon, the next person tried, was the son of a physician
of eminence. His principles of loyalty being tainted by associating
with Jacobites, he became zealous in the cause of the Pretender; and
his zeal was rewarded by the commission of lieutenant-colonel in the
Manchester regiment. Mr. Deacon had declared his resolution of joining
the rebels as soon as he heard they were in arms in Scotland; and when
they arrived at Manchester, he became one of their number. His two
brothers likewise embarked in this fatal business: and one of them was
sentenced to die with him: but being only sixteen years of age, he was
happy enough to obtain a pardon.

 The next convict on this melancholy occasion was Andrew Blood,
who had been steward to a gentleman in Yorkshire, of which county he
was a native, and descended from a respectable family. Quitting his
service, he went to Manchester to join the rebels, and received a
captains commission. He pleaded guilty to the indictment, and received
sentence with the utmost composure and resignation. The gentleman whom
he had served as steward exerted his utmost influence to procure a
pardon for him; but the Culprit being told that all endeavours were
fruitless, expressed the utmost unconcern, and said he was willing to
become a martyr for the cause he had abetted; adding that he had 
prepared for death, having entertained no hope of pardon.

 The next person brought to trial and conviction was David Morgan,
Esq. of Monmouthshire. This man had been sent by his father to study
law in the Temple; and practised a short time as a counsellor; but his
father dying, he went to reside on his estate in the country. He was
distinguished by the haughtiness of his temper, and a disposition to
quarrel with his neighbours and servants. Having met the rebels at
Manchester, he advised the Pretender to proceed immediately to London,
assuring him that the whole force to oppose him did not exceed three
thousand men. Had this advice been attended to, the rebellion might
have been crushed much sooner than it was: for, no doubt, the people 
would have arisen as one man, to oppose the progress of the lawless
insurgents.

 The Pretender having granted Morgan a warrant to search the
houses in Manchester for arms, he did this in the strictest manner, and
threatened with exemplary punishment all those who opposed him.

 A colonel's commission was offered him; but he declined the
acceptance of it, proposing rather to give his advice than his personal
assistance. When the rebels marched to Derby, he quitted them; but,
being taken into custody, he was lodged in Chester castle, and thence
conveyed to London: and conviction following commitment, he was
sentenced to die with his associates.

 After the sentence of the law was passed, the convicts declared
that they had acted according to the dictates of their consciences, and
would again act the same parts, if they were put to trial. When the
keeper informed them that the following day was ordered for their
execution, they expressed a resignation to the will of God, embraced
each other, and took an affectionate leave of their friends.

 On the following morning they breakfasted together, and having
conversed till near eleven o' clock, were conveyed from the New Gaol,
Southwark, to Kennington Common, on three sledges. The gibbet was
surrounded by a party of the guards, and a block; and a pile of
faggots, were placed near it. The faggots were set on fire while the
proper officers were removing the malefactors from the sledges.

 After near an hour employed in acts of devotion, these unhappy
men, having delivered to the sheriffs some papers, expressive of their
political sentiments, then underwent the sentence of the law. They had
not hung above five minutes, when Townley was cut down, being yet
alive, and his body being placed on the block, the executioner chopped
off his head with a cleaver. His heart and bowels were then taken out,
and thrown into the fire; and the other parts being separately treated
in the same manner, the executioner cried out "God save King George !"

 The bodies were quartered and delivered to the keeper of the New
Gaol, who buried them: the heads of some of the parties were sent to
Carlisle and Manchester, where they were exposed; but those of Townley
and Fletcher were fixed on Temple-Bar, where they remained many years,
till they fell down.

 These victims to their rashness suffered on Kennington Common, on
the 20th of July, 1746.

 Three other persons suffered soon afterwards on the same spot,
for similar offences; of which the following are such particulars as
will be interesting to the reader.

 Donald M‘Donald had joined the Pretender soon after he came to
Scotland, and had received a captain's commission. He was educated by
an uncle, who told him he would tarnish the glory of his ancestors, who
had been warmly attached to the cause, if he failed to act with
courage.

 M‘Donald was ever foremost where danger presented itself: he was
greatly distinguished at the battle of Preston Pans, and joined with
Lord Nairn in taking possession of Perth; services that greatly
recommended him to the Pretender. This man was exceedingly assiduous to
learn the art of war, and made himself of so much consequence as to be
intrusted with the command of, two thousand men. The Duke of Perth
having ordered two men, who refused to enlist, to be shot, M‘Donald
complained to his uncle, who had likewise a command in the rebel army,
of the injustice of this proceeding; but the uncle ordered the nephew
into custody, and told him that he should be shot on the following day;
and actually informed the Pretender of what had passed; but M‘Donald
was only reprimanded, and dismissed, on promise of more cautious
behaviour in future..

 After his commitment to prison, M‘Donald frequently wished that
he had been shot. Being advised to repent, he said it would be
fruitless, and he had rather hear a tune on the sweet bagpipes that
used to play before the army. He often told the keepers of the prison,
that "if they would knock off his fetters, and give him a pair of
bagpipes he would, treat them with a highland  dance."

 He said, he thought the Pretender's service very honourable when
he first engaged in it, which he would never have done if he had
thought him so ill provided for the expedition.. He likewise expressed
the utmost resentment against the French king for not supplying them
with succours.

 James Nicholson had been educated in principles averse to those
of the abettors of the house of Stuart, but had been fatally prevailed
on to change his political sentiments, by some Jacobites, who
frequented a coffeehouse which he kept at Leith with great reputation
for a considerable time.

 Having accepted a lieutenant's commission on the arrival of the
rebels at Edinburgh, he proceeded with them as far as Derby; but when
they returned to Carlisle, he was taken into custody, and sent with the
other prisoners to London.

 After conviction he was visited by his wife and children, which
afforded a scene of distress that is not to be described. He now
lamented the miseries that he had brought on his family; but his
penitence came too late!

 The county of Banff, in Scotland, gave birth to Walter Ogilvie,
who was brought up a Protestant, and taught the duty of allegiance to
the illustrious house of Brunswick; but some of his associates having
contaminated his principles, he went to Lord Lewis Gordon, and joined
the division of rebels under his command.

 Ogilvie's father represented to him the rashness and
impracticability of the scheme in which he was about to engage; but the
young man said he was persuaded of its justice; and that the Pretender
had a right to his best services.

 After conviction these unfortunate men behaved for some time with
great indifference; but on the nearer approach of death they grew more
serious. On the morning of their execution, having been visited by some
friends, they were drawn on a sledge to Kennington Common, where they
were turned off as soon as their devotions were ended; and after
hanging about a quarter of an hour, they were cut down, their heads cut
off, their bowels taken out and burnt, and their bodies conveyed to the
New Gaol, Southwark, and on the following day they were interred in one
grave, in the new burial ground belonging to the parish of Bloomsbury.

 These unfortunate men suffered at Kennington Common, on the 22d
of August, 1746.

 Alexander M‘Gruther, a lieutenant in the Duke of Perth's
regiment, and who had been very active among the rebels, was condemned
with the three parties above-mentioned, but he had the happiness to
obtain a reprieve through the interest of his friends.

 Many other of the prisoners tried and convicted in Surrey were
reprieved, as proper objects of the royal mercy; and the assizes for
that county being ended, the judges, who were furnished with a special
commission, proceeded to Carlisle to try those confined in the castle
of that city, the number of whom was no less than three hundred and
seventy.

 Orders were given that nineteen out of twenty of these should be
transported, and only the twentieth man tried for his life; and that
the chance of trial should be determined by lot; but many of them
refused to accept these merciful terms.

 Bills of indictment having been found against them, they were
informed that counsel and solicitors would be allowed them without
expense; and were told that the clerk of the peace was commissioned to
grant subpoenas for such witnesses as they thought might be of service
to them. This being done, the Judges proceeded to York Castle, to try
those there confined, and adjourned the assizes at Carlisle till the
ninth of September, that the accused parties might have time to make a
proper defence.

 In the mean time seventy were condemned of those confined at
York, the most remarkable of whom was John Hamilton, Esq. who had been
appointed Governor of Carlisle, having joined the Pretender after the
battle of Preston Pans. On the first of November, ten of the convicts
were executed at York, and eleven more on the eighth of the same month;
and four were ordered to suffer on the fifteenth, but three of these
were reprieved.

 The Judges now returned to Carlisle, and as many of the witnesses
on the behalf of the prisoners had time from Scotland, they refused to
be sworn in the English manner, and at length they were sworn according
to the custom of their own country.

 Many of the prisoners pleaded guilty, and among those who stood
the event of a trial, and were convicted, was a nonjuring clergyman
named Cappock, who had preached to the rebels at Carlisle and
Manchester;

 No less than ninety-one persons received sentence of death at
Carlisle, several of whom were people of fortune, who had abandoned
their better prospects in life to take part in this desperate
rebellion. Ten of them were hanged and quartered at Carlisle on the
18th of October, and ten more at Brampton, in Cumberland, on the 1st of
the same. month; but a number of them were transported, and several
received an unconditional pardon.

 Five other of the rebels who had been tried in Surrey, suffered
at Kennington Common, on the 28th of the month above-mentioned, one of
whom at the place of execution drank a health to the Pretender.

 In, consequence of these convictions, many estates were forfeited
to the crown; but King George the Second ordered them to be sold, and
the whole produce, above twenty years purchase, to be given to the
orphans of those who had forfeited them. The rest was employed in
establishing schools in the Highlands, and instructing the natives in
useful arts.

THE ESCAPE OF THE PRETENDER

 To enumerate the different trials of the rebels convicted and
executed would nearly fill one of our volumes; and having given the
outlines of the treason in which they were all implicated, a
recapitulation of the evidence to the same tenor, is unnecessary. Let
it therefore suffice to say, that numbers were executed in different
parts of England, and many of their heads placed on public buildings,
and others transported to America.

 Yet, we think our readers would be gratified, by a knowledge of
the escape of the leading men of this French treachery and rebellion,--
the young Pretender; and to this end, we have selected the following
interesting and genuine account:

 "That decisive engagement was fought on the 16th of April, 1746,
in which the Pretender had his horse shot under him, by one of the
troopers in the kings service, as he was endeavouring to rally his
people. After his forces were entirely defeated, he retired to the
house of a factor of Lord Lovat, about ten miles from Inverness, where
meeting with that lord, he stayed supper. After supper was over he set
out for Fort Augustus, and pursued his journey next day to Invergarry,
where he proposed to have dined; but finding no victuals, he set a boy
to fishing, who caught two salmon, on which he made a dinner, and
continued waiting there for some of his troops, who had promised to
rendezvous at that place; but being disappointed, he resolved to
proceed to Lochharciage.

 "He arrived there on the 18th, at two in the morning, where he
went to sleep, which he had not done for five days and nights. He
remained there till five o' clock in the afternoon, in hopes of
obtaining some intelligence; but gaining none, he set out from thence
on foot, and travelled to the Glen of Morar, where he arrived the 19th
at four in the morning. He set out about noon the same day for
Arrashag, where he arrived about four in the afternoon. He remained
there about seven days, waiting for Captain O'Neil, who joined him on
the 27th, and informed him, that there was no hopes of drawing his
troops together again in a body, upon which he resolved to go to
Stornway, in order to hire a ship to go to France.

 "The person employed for this purpose was one Donald M‘Leod, who
had an interest there. On the 28th he went on board an eight-oar'd
boat, in company with Sullivan and O'Neil, ordering the people who
belonged to the boat to make the best haste they could to Stornway. The
night proving very tempestuous, they all begged of him to go back,
which he would not do; but, to keep up the spirits of the people, he
sang them a Highland song; but the weather growing worse and worse, on
the 29th, about seven in the morning, they were driven on shore, on a
point of land called Rushness, in the island of Benbicula, where, when
they got on shore, the Pretender helped to make a fire to warm the
crew, who were almost starved to death with cold. On the 30th, at six
in the evening, they set sail again for Stornway, but meeting with
another storm, were obliged to put into the island of Scalpa, in the
Harris, where they all went on shore to a farmers house, passing for
merchants that were shipwrecked in their voyage to the Orkneys: the
Pretender and Sullivan going by the names of Sinclair, the latter
passing for the father, and the former his son.

 "They thought proper to send from thence to Donald M‘Leod at
Stornway, with instructions to freight a ship for the Orkneys: On the 
3d of May, they received a message from him that a ship was ready. On
the 4th they set out on foot for that place, where they arrived on the
5th about noon, and meeting with Donald M‘Leod, they found that he had
got into company, where growing daring, he told a friend of his for
whom he had hired the ship, upon which there were 200 people in arms at
Stornway, upon a report that the Pretender was landed with 600 men, and
was coming to burn the town; so that they were obliged to lie all night
upon the moor, with no other refreshment than biscuit and brandy.

 "On the 6th they resolved to go in the eight-oar'd boat, to the
Orkneys; but the crew refused to venture, so that they were obliged to
steer south along the coast-side where they met with two English ships,
and this compelled them to put into a desert island, where they
remained till the 10th, without any provision but some salt fish they
found upon the island. About ten in the morning of that day they
embarked for the Harris, and at break of day on the 11th they were
chased by an English ship, but made their escape among the rocks. About
four in the afternoon they arrived on the island of Benbicula, where
they staid till the 14th, and then set out for the mountain of Currada
in South Uist, where they staid till the militia, of the isle of Sky
came to the island of Irasky, and then sailed for the island of Uia,
where they remained three nights, till having intelligence that the
militia were coming towards Benbicula, they immediately got into their
boat, and sailed for Lochbusdale; but being met by some ships of war,
they were obliged to return to Lochaguart, where they remained all day,
and at night sailed for Lochbusdale; where they arrived, and staid
eight days on a rock, making a tent of the sail of the boat.

 They found themselves there in a most dreadful situation; for
having intelligence that Captain Scott had landed at Kilbride, the
company was obliged to separate, and the Pretender and O'Neil went to
the mountains, where they remained all night, and soon after were
informed that General Campbell was at Bernary; so that now they had
forces very near, on both sides of them, and were absolutely at a loss
which way to move. In their road they met with a young lady, one Miss
M‘Donald, to whom Captain O'Neil proposed assisting the Pretender to
make his escape, which at first she refused; but upon his offering to
put on woman's clothes, she consented, and desired them to go to the
mountain of Currada till she sent for them, where they accordingly
staid two days; but hearing nothing from the young lady, the Pretender
concluded she would not keep her word; and therefore resolved to send
Captain O'Neil to General Campbell, to let him know he was willing to
surrender to him; but about five in the evening a message came from the
young lady, desiring them to meet her at Rushness. Being afraid to pass
by the Ford, because of the militia, they luckily found a boat, which
carried them to the other side of Uia, where they remained part of the
day, afraid of being seen by the country people. In the evening they
set out for Rushness, and arrived there at twelve at night; but not
finding the young lady, and being alarmed by a boat full of militia,
they were obliged to retire two miles back, where the Pretender
remained on a moor till O'Neil went to the young lady, and prevailed
upon her to come to the place appointed at night-fall of the next day.
About an hour after they had an account of General Campbell's arrival
at Benbicula, which obliged them to move to another part of the island,
where, as the day broke, they discovered four sail close on the shore,
making directly up to the place where they were; so that there was
nothing left for them to do, but to throw themselves among the heath.
When the wherries were gone, they resolved to go to Clanronald's house;
but when they were within a mile of it, they heard General Campbell was
there, which forced them to retreat again.

 The young Pretender having at length, with the assistance of
Captain O'Neil, found Miss M‘Donald in a cottage near the place
appointed, it was there determined that he should put on women's
clothes, and pass for her waiting-maid. This being done, he took leave
of Sullivan and O'Neil with great regret, who departed to shift for
themselves, leaving him and his new mistress in the cottage, where they
continued some days, during which she cured him of the itch. Upon
intelligence that General Campbell was gone further into the country,
they removed to her cousins, and spent the night in preparing for their
departure to the Isle of Sky; accordingly they set out the next
morning, with only one man-servant named M‘Lean and two rowers. During
their voyage they were pursued by a small vessel; but a thick fog
rising they arrived safe at midnight in that island, and landed at the
foot of a rock, where the lady and her maid waited while her man M‘Lean
went to see if Sir Alexander M‘Donald was at home; M‘Lean found his way
thither, but lost it returning back; his mistress and her maid, after
in vain expecting him the whole night, were obliged in the morning to
leave the rock, and go in the boat up the creek to some distance, to
avoid the militia which guarded the coast.

 They went on shore again about ten o' clock, and, attended by the
rowers, enquired the way to SirAlexander's: when they had gone about
two miles, they met M‘Lean; he told his lady that Sir Alexander was
with the Duke of Cumberland, but his lady was at home, and would do
them all the service she could; whereupon they discharged their boat,
and went directly to the house, where they remained two days, they
being always in her lady's chamber, except at nights, to prevent a
discovery. But a party of the M‘Leods having intelligence that some
strangers were arrived at Sir Alexander's, and knowing his lady was
well-affected to the Pretender, came thither; and demanding to see the
new comers, were introduced to Miss's chamber, where she sat with her
new maid. The latter hearing the militia was at the door had the
presence of mind to get up and open it, which occasioned his being the
less taken notice of; and after they had narrowly searched the closets,
they withdrew.

 The enquiry, however, alarmed the lady, and the next day she sent
her maid to a steward of Sir Alexander's, but hearing that his being in
the island was known, he removed to Macdonald's at Kingsborough, ten
miles distant, where he remained but one day; for on receiving
intelligence that it was rumoured he was disguised in a woman's habit,
M‘Donald furnished him with a suit of his own clothes, and he went in a
boat to Macleod's, at Raza; but having no prospect, of escaping thence
to France, he returned back on foot to the Isle of Sky, being thirty
miles, with no attendant but a ferryman, whom he would not suffer to
carry his wallet, M‘Leod assuring him that the elder Laird of M‘Innon
would there render him all the service in his power.

 When he arrived, not knowing the way to M‘Innon's house, he
chanced to enquire of a gentleman, whom he met on the top of a
mountain; this gentleman having seen him before, thought he recollected
his face, and asked him if he was not the Prince. This greatly
surprised him; but seeing the gentleman had only one person, a servant,
with him, be answered, I am, at the same time putting himself in a
posture of defence: but this person immediately discovered himself to
be his good friend, Captain Macleod, and conducted him to M‘Innon's.
The old man instantly knew him; but advised him immediately to go to
Lochabar, and he accordingly set sail in a vessel which M‘Innon
procured for that purpose.

 After remaining seven days in the glens of Morar, he received
advice that M‘Donald of Lochgarrie expected him in Lochabar, where he
had one hundred resolute Highlanders in arms; upon this he went over
the great hill of Morar, in a tattered Highland habit, and was joyfully
received by M‘Donald at the head of his men.

 With this party he roved from place to, place, till finding he
could no longer remain in Lochabar, he removed to Badenoch; but being
harassed by the king's troops, and losing daily some of his men in
skirmishing, they dispersed; and the Pretender, with Lochiel of
Barrisdale, and some others, skulked about in Moidart. Here they
received advice that two French privateers were at anchor in
Lochnanaugh in Moidart, in one of which, called the Happy, he embarked
with 23 gentlemen, and one hundred and seven common men, and soon after
arrived safe in France.


JOSEPH RAWLINS, alias GREAT JOE;
A daring and notorious Smuggler, executed at Winchester, October 10,
1748 for burglary.

 THIS offence [burglary] is a felony at common law; it is
described to be when a person, by night, breaketh into the mansion of
another, with an intent to commit a felony; whether the felonious
intent be executed or not.

 By the 18th. of Elizabeth, cap. 7, the benefit of clergy is
taken. away from the offence; and by the 3d and 4th William and Mary,
cap. 9, from accessories before the fact. By the 12th of Anne, stat. 1,
cap. 7, if any person shall enter into a mansion or dwelling-house by
day or by night, without breaking into the same with an intent to
commit any felony; or being in such house, shall commit any felony; and
shall, in the night-time, break the said house to get out of the same,
he is declared guilty of the offence of burglary, and punished
accordingly.

 It is, without doubt, highly expedient that this offence should
be punished more severely than any other species of theft; since,
besides the loss of property, there is something very terrific in the
mode of perpetration, which is often productive of dreadful effects.

 The ancient laws made a marked distinction in the punishment,
between this offence, which was called Hamsokne (and which name it
retains at present, in the northern part of this kingdom) and robbing a
house in the day-time.

 It is impossible to reflect upon the outrages and acts of
violence continually committed, more particularly in and near the
metropolis, by lawless ravagers of property, and destroyers of lives,
in disturbing the peaceful mansion, the castle of every Englishman, and
also in abridging the liberty of travelling upon the public highways,
without asking -- Why are these enormities suffered, in a country where
the criminal laws are supposed to have arrived at a greater degree of
perfection than any other?

 This is an important inquiry, interesting, in the highest degree,
to every member of the body politic.

 If, in pursuing such an inquiry, the situation of Holland,
Flanders, and several of the northern states on the continent, be
examined, it will be found that this terrific evil had (alluding to
these states previous to the present war) there scarcely an existence;
and that the precaution of bolting doors and windows during the night
was even seldom used; although, in these countries, from the opulence
of many of the inhabitants, there were great temptations to plunder
property.

 This security did not proceed from severer punishments; for in
very few countries are they more sanguinary than in England. It is to
be attributed to a more correct and energetic system of Police, joined
to an early and general attention to the employment, education, and
morals, of the lower orders of the people; a habit of industry and
sobriety is thus acquired, which, universally imbibed in early life,
"grows with their growth, and strengthens with their strength!"

 Houses, intended to be entered during the night, are previously
reconnoitred and examined for days preceding. If one or more of the
servants are not already associated with the gang, the most artful
means are used to obtain their assistance; and when every previous
arrangement is made, the mere operation of robbing a house becomes a
matter of little difficulty.

 By the connivance and assistance of immediate, or former
servants, they are led to the places where the most valuable, as well
as the most portable, articles are deposited, and the object is
speedily attained. In this manner do the principal burglars and
housebreakers proceed: and let this information serve as a caution to
every person in the choice both of their male and female servants;
since the latter as well as the former are not seldom accomplices in
very atrocious robberies. It frequently happens that the burglars make
their contracts with the receivers on the evening before the plunder is
obtained; so as to secure a ready admittance immediately afterwards,
and before daybreak, for the purpose of effectual concealment by
melting plate, obliterating marks, and securing all other articles so
as to place them out of the reach of discovery. This has long been
reduced to a regular system which is understood and followed as a
trade.

 Night coaches promote, in an eminent degree, the perpetration of
burglaries and other felonies: bribed by a high reward many hackney-
coachmen eagerly enter into the pay of nocturnal depredators, and wait
in the neighbourhood until the robbery is completed, and then draw up,
at the moment the watchmen are going their round; or off their stands,
for the purpose of conveying the plunder to the house of the receiver,
who is generally waiting the issue of the enterprise. Nearly one-half
of the hackney coachmen in London, are said to be, (in the cant phrase)
flashmen, designed to assist thieves.

 [Note: On the 21st, April, 1747, two smugglers, George Kingman
and Barnet Wollit, both outlaws, one of whom murdered a man on. Hurst-
Green, were killed in a skirmish with the townsmen of Goodhurst in
Kent, who found it necessary to arm against those desperadoes, who rob
and plunder wherever they go, and live upon the spoil.

 This spirited conduct of the people of this town was highly
praiseworthy. They acted under the following order of council:

 "In consequence of a report of the Attorney and Solicitor
General, wherein they, gave their opinion, that all his Majesty's
subjects, civil and military, magistrates, officers, and private
persons, have, by law, without any express warrant for that purpose,
authority to seize and apprehend any persons assembled, armed, and
acting in such manner, as described in the laws against smuggling, and
bring them before a magistrate, who may commit them to prison: and in
seizing, apprehending, securing, and committing them to prison, may
repel force with force, and justify any violence or hostilities which
may be necessary to suppress and subdue them, to bring them to justice.

 "His Majesty in council is pleased to require and command all
officers, both civil and military, to use their utmost force in support
of the laws, and suppressing, subduing, and bringing, all such
offenders to justice."]

 Joseph Rawlins was indicted at the assize held at Winchester, for
the year 1748, for burglariously breaking into the dwelling-house of
Mr. Wakefield, of Selborne, in the county of Hants, on the 6th of
September, 1747, and therefrom stole cash, plate, and other effects,
the property of the said Wakefield.

 It appeared in evidence, that this fellow, at the head of
thirteen more, met on the day of the robbery, at Adverse Heath, in
Sussex, whence they proceeded to Woolmer. Forest, where they lay
concealed till the evening. Then they mounted their horses, and arrived
about eight near Mr. Wakefield's. Jeremiah Curtis, one of the villains,
rode up to the house; and pretending he had lost his way; desired to be
set right. The men-servants of the house having informed him, he asked
for some beer, when an old maid-servant went to draw some; but he found
great fault with it, and called for ale. She told him, that her master
had the key, and was gone to bed. On this he rode back to his
companions, who immediately came up, armed with blunderbusses and
pistols; and, pretending to be officers, demanded the master of the
house, insisting that he harboured outlawed smugglers. Being answered
that he was in bed, they broke open the door, and going up to Mr.
Wakefield's room, presented a blunderbuss to his breast, and, with
horrid imprecations, demanded where he kept his money. On being told he
had no money, they pulled him across the bed; yet still he persisted.
They then told him to point out his plate; and, fearing to be murdered,
he showed them the chest. This they immediately broke open, and stole
thereout a silver tankard, a salt, porrenger; salver, and twelve
spoons: from another room, fourteen guineas, a silver watch, and
several other things of value. Meanwhile the prisoner at the bar,
Rawlins, with another, held the horses of those plundering, fearing to
enter, as they were known to the family. Another of the party kept
guard over the servants, threatening them with instant death, if they
stirred.

 Having plundered the house of every portable valuable, they
returned to Mr. Wakefield, and with dreadful oaths, demanded two
hundred pounds, which they insisted he had just received from Bristol.
He protested that he had received none; upon which they dragged him out
of bed, and swore they would carry him off, unless he discovered his
money; but finding him resolute, they let him go. The next day, the
thieves divided their booty, of which the prisoner had his share.

 The old servant woman who had kindly given drink to the first
villain, swore, that they rifled her pockets of four shillings -- most
mean and ungrateful.

 The defence set up by this old offender was weak and ignorant; so
that the jury, without hesitation, found him guilty; and he was
accordingly executed.

 We have already observed what a pest to the country were these
different gangs of smugglers; for when none of the vessels employed in
this illicit trade were in the harbours and creeks, with their
contraband cargoes, the villains employed the time in housebreaking,
highway and foot robberies; and it was long before they could be
extirpated.


GEORGE LANCASTER
Executed at Tyburn, 16th of November, 1747, for forging a
Seaman's Will, in order to rob his Wife and Child

THIS offender was born in Hatton Garden, London, of
respectable parents, who placed him with a reputable attorney,
with whom he served part of his clerkship in the most regular
manner; but, making very bad connections, his master requested
his parents to take him home and send him to sea as the most likely
means to prevent his ruin.

The parents, approving this hint, persuaded the son to sail
as captain's clerk on board a ship in the Royal Navy; and he
continued some years in this station.

He came to London when his ship was paid off, and having
received a considerable sum of money dissipated the whole in
houses of ill-fame. His father was now dead; but his mother, with a
fondness very natural, but which perhaps contributed to his ruin,
supplied his extravagances till she was very much reduced in her
circumstances; and in the meantime the son borrowed money in
her name of anyone who would trust him; but at length his
character being lost, and his mother totally impoverished, he
determined on the commission of the crime for which his life paid
the forfeit.

A seaman, named Hugh Price, to whom thirty-six pounds
were due for wages, died on board the Dorchester man-of-war,
having made a will in favour of his wife and son, who lived near
Whitehaven, in Cumberland. Lancaster, hearing of the death of
Price, forged a will purporting to be his, and, carrying it to Doctors'
Commons, obtained a probate of the will, in consequence of his
swearing that he was the son of the above-mentioned Price.

Being thus possessed of the probate, he went to a public-
house, producing to the landlord a letter signed George Price,
whom he averred was the son of the deceased, and had empowered
him to dispose of his father's wages. The landlord, unacquainted
with these matters, applied to a gentleman, who told him he might
safely purchase if Lancaster could get the original ticket and would
lodge the probate in his hands as a collateral security.

The publican mentioning this to Lancaster, the latter said he
would procure the original ticket from Portsmouth; but at the
expiration of four days he produced a forged ticket, which the
landlord, on the advice of a friend, purchased for twenty-seven
pounds.

About three months after this transaction, a clerk of the
Navy Office called on the publican, and he showed him the ticket.
He said he thought it a good one, but he would write to the agent at
Portsmouth to inquire into the fact. The agent's answer was that
Hugh Price's ticket in favour of his son George was still in the
office; so that it was evident that Lancaster's ticket must be a
forgery.

The publican then went to an attorney, who advised him to
make a debt of the affair, and arrest Lancaster for the money. This
being done, he was committed to the Poultry Compter, where he
was informed that he should be set at liberty if his friends would
make a subscription to raise the sum; but not having friends to
assist him in this essential matter, the publican went to the Navy
Office, where he informed the commissioners of the affair, and
they ordered Lancaster to be prosecuted by their solicitor.

Lancaster's guilt being proved in the clearest manner on his
trial, he was convicted, received sentence of death, and was
executed at Tyburn, on 16th of November, 1747.

HOSEA YOUELL
Executed at Tyburn, Nov. 16, 1747, for murder.

 IT is estimated in another part of our chronology, that there are
more Jew thieves in London, on a fair calculation of their numbers,
than of the abandoned of all other persuasions. For some years these
Levites, formerly kept under a necessary restriction by the Christian
laws, presuming upon too ample a toleration, have become the bullies of
people of London, The disgraceful practice of pugilism, revived by
Mendoza, on their part, has greatly increased their depredations as
well as their audacity. The ruffian set of the disciples of Moses, sent 
into Covent-garden theatre some years since, in order to awe the public
to an acquiescence in an imposition of increased prices to that place
of public amusement, shews to what a daring pitch they have arrived.

 At the sessions held at the Old Bailey in October, 1747, Hosea
Youell, and Jacob Lopez, two Jews, were indicted for the murder of
Captain Johns, when the former was convicted, and the latter acquitted.

 The story of this affair is as follows: Mr. Johns coming up
Sandwich-court, Devonshire Square, between ten and eleven o'clock at
night, met two men whom he believed to be Jews, who robbed him of his
watch and money. Hearing some people coming towards him, he called out,
"Stop thief;" on which one of them returned, and gave him a stab in the
body, of the depth of nine inches, as appeared by the deposition of the
surgeon who attended Captain Johns at the Dolphin inn, Bishopsgate-
street, and extracted a piece of the sword from his body.

 Youell being taken into custody, Alderman Rawlinson attended the
wounded man, who positively charged Youell with being the murderer, and
signed his charge, being in his perfect senses, but died within fifteen
minutes afterwards.

 The wounded man being asked how he could be so  positive to 
Youell, said, he knew him by the light from a lamp, and that he should
know his voice. Youell being bid to turn round, slouch his hat, and
speak, hesitated for a while; but at length complying, the captain
said, "You are the man that stabbed me, I am positive of the voice."

 A piece of a sword was found in the court where the captain was
stabbed, which exactly tallied with the piece lodged in the body of the
deceased: and it also appeared that Youell had requested the city-
marshal to speak to the alderman, that he might be admitted an
evidence; and averred, that the murder was not committed by himself,
but by one Hart.

 After conviction, the prisoner said that he was only eighteen
years of age, and born of Jewish parents, who lived in Creed-lane,
Leadenhall-street. He was so illiterate that he could neither read
Hebrew nor English. The ordinary of Newgate representing to him the
advantages of the Gospel over the Mosaic dispensation, he said, that as
he was born and bred a Jew, he would die such.

 He was attended by a rabbi, and at the place of execution
steadfastly denied having been guilty of the murder. However, he
earnestly advised young people to be cautious in the choice of their
company, as it was by a neglect of that caution that he had come to a
fatal end.



HENRY SIMMS
The Extraordinary Career of a Youth, who was executed at
Tyburn, 16th of November, 1747, after returning from
Transportation, for Highway Robbery

HENRY SIMMS was born in the parish of St Martin's-in-
the-Fields, London, and was soon a helpless orphan. His
grandmother, who was a Dissenter, sent him first to a school kept
by a clergyman, but as he frequently ran away she placed him at an
academy in St James's parish, where he became proficient in
writing and arithmetic, and was likewise a tolerable Latin and
French scholar.

Before the boy had completed his tenth year he gave a
specimen of his dishonest disposition. His grandmother taking him
with her on a visit to a tradesman's house, he stole twenty shillings
from the till in the shop, which being observed by the maid-
servant, she informed her master; and, the money being found on
the youth, he was severely punished. He now began to lie from
home at nights, and associated with the vilest of company, in the
purlieus of St Giles's. His companions advising him to rob his
grandmother, he stole seventeen pounds from her and, taking his
best apparel, repaired to St Giles's, where his new acquaintances
made him drunk, put him to bed, and then robbed him of his
money and clothes. On his waking he covered himself with some
rags he found in the room and, after strolling through the streets in
search of the villains, went into an ale-house, the landlord of
which, hearing his tale, interceded with his grandmother to take
him again under her protection. To this, after some hesitation, she
consented; and, buying a chain with a padlock, she had him
fastened, during the daytime, to the kitchen grate, and at night he
slept with a man who was directed to take care that he did not
escape.

After a month of confinement he had his liberty granted
him and new clothes purchased, with which he immediately went
among some young thieves who were tossing up for money, in St
Giles's. On the approach of night they took him to a brick-kiln near
Tottenham Court Road, where they broiled some steaks, and
supped in concert; and were soon joined by some women, who
brought some geneva, with which the whole company regaled
themselves.

Simms, falling asleep, was robbed of his clothes; and when
the brickmakers came to work in the morning they found him in
his shirt only. While they were conducting him towards town he
was met by his grandmother's servant, who was in search of him,
and conveyed him to her house. Notwithstanding his former
behaviour the old lady received him kindly, and placed him with a
breeches-maker. He having corrected him for his ill behaviour, he
ran away, and taking his best clothes from his grandmother's
house, in her absence, sold them to a Jew, and spent the money in
extravagance.

The old gentlewoman now went to live at the house of
Lady Stanhope, whither the graceless boy followed her, and being
refused admittance he broke several of the windows. This in some
measure compelled his grandmother to admit him; but that very
night he robbed the house of as many things as produced him nine
pounds, which he carried to a barn in Marylebone Fields, and spent
among his dissolute companions. For this offence he was
apprehended, and, after some hesitation, confessed where he had
sold the effects. From this time his grandmother gave him up as
incorrigible. Soon afterwards he was apprehended as a pickpocket,
but he was discharged for want of evidence.

Simms now associated with the worst of company; but after
a narrow escape on a charge of being concerned in sending a
threatening letter to extort money, and two of his companions
being transported for other offences, he seemed deterred from
continuing his evil courses; and thereupon wrote to his
grandmother, entreating her further protection. Still anxious to save
him from destruction, she prevailed on a friend to take him into his
house, where for some time he behaved regularly; but, getting
among his old associates, they robbed a gentleman of his watch
and money, and threw him into a ditch in Marylebone Fields; when
only some persons accidentally coming up prevented his
destruction.

Two more of Simms' companions being now transported,
he hired himself to an innkeeper as a driver of a post-chaise; and
after that lived as postilion to a nobleman, but was soon discharged
on account of his irregular conduct. Having received some wages,
he went again among the thieves, who dignified him with the title
of "Gentleman Harry," on account of his presumed skill, and the
gentility of his appearance. Simms now became intimately
acquainted with a woman who lived with one of his accomplices,
in revenge for which the fellow procured both him and the woman
to be taken into custody on a charge of felony, and they were
committed to Newgate; but, the Court paying no regard to the
credibility of the witnesses, the prisoners were acquitted.

Soon after his discharge Simms robbed a gentleman of his
watch and seventeen pounds on Blackheath, and likewise robbed a
lady of a considerable sum near the same spot. Being followed to
Lewisham, he was obliged to quit his horse, when he presented
two pistols to his pursuers, by which he so intimidated them as to
effect his escape, though with the loss of his horse.

Repairing to London he bought another horse, and
travelling into Northamptonshire, and putting up at an inn at
Towcester, learned that a military gentleman had hired a chaise for
London; on which he followed the chaise the next morning, and
kept up with it for several miles. At length the gentleman,
observing him, said: "Don't ride so hard, Sir, you'll soon ride away
your whole estate"; to which Simms replied: "Indeed I shall not,
for it lies in several counties"; and, instantly quitting his horse, he
robbed the gentleman of one hundred and two guineas.

He now hastened to London, and, having dissipated his ill-
acquired money at a gaming-table, rode out towards Hounslow,
and meeting the postilion who had driven the above-mentioned
gentleman in Northamptonshire gave him five shillings, begging
he would take no notice of having seen him. A reward being at
length offered for apprehending Simms, he entered on board a
privateer; but being soon weary of a seafaring life he deserted, and
enlisted for a soldier. While in this station he knocked out the eye
of a woman at a house of ill-fame, for which he was apprehended
and lodged in New Prison. Soon after this, Justice de Veil admitted
him an evidence against some felons, his accomplices, who were
transported, and Simms regained his liberty.

Being apprehended for robbing a baker's shop, he was
convicted, and being sentenced to be transported was, accordingly,
shipped on board one of the transport vessels. As this sailed round
to the Isle of Wight he formed a plan for seizing the captain, and
effecting an escape; but as a strict watch was kept on him it was
not possible for him to carry this plan into execution. The ship
arriving at Maryland, Simms was sold, for twelve guineas, but he
found an early opportunity of deserting from the purchaser. Having
learned that his master's horse was left tied to a gate at some
distance from the dwelling-house, he privately decamped in the
night, and rode thirty miles in four hours, through extremely bad
roads: so powerfully was he impelled by his fears.

He now found himself by the seaside, and, turning the
horse loose, he hailed a vessel just under sail, from which a boat
was sent to bring him on board. As hands were very scarce, the
captain offered him six guineas, which were readily accepted, to
work his passage to England. There being at this time a war
between England and France, the ship was taken by a French
privateer, but soon afterwards ransomed; and Simms entered on
board a man-of-war, where his diligence promoted him to the rank
of a midshipman. But the ship had no sooner arrived at Plymouth
than he quitted his duty and, travelling to Bristol, spent the little
money he possessed in the most dissipated manner.

His next step was to enter himself on board a coasting
vessel at Bristol, but he had not been long at sea before, on a
dispute with the captain, he threatened to throw him overboard,
and would have carried his threat into execution if the other
seamen had not prevented him. Simms asked for his wages when
the ship returned to port; but on the captain threatening
imprisonment for his ill behaviour at sea he decamped, with only
eight shillings in his possession.

Fertile of contrivances, he borrowed a bridle and saddle,
and having stolen a horse, in a field near the city, he went once
more on the highway, and taking the road to London robbed the
passengers in the Bristol coach, those in another carriage, and a
single lady and gentleman, and repaired to London with the booty
he had acquired.

Having put up the stolen horse at an inn in Whitechapel,
and soon afterwards seeing it advertised, he was afraid to fetch it:
on which he stole another horse; but as he was riding through
Tyburn Turnpike, the keeper, knowing the horse, brought the rider
to the ground. Hereupon Simms presented a pistol, and threatened
the man with instant death if he presumed to detain him. By this
daring mode of proceeding he obtained his liberty, and, having
made a tour round the fields, he entered London by another road.
On the following day he went to Kingston-upon-Thames, he stole a
horse, and then robbed several people on his return to London; and
the day afterwards robbed seven farmers of eighteen pounds. His
next depredations were in Epping Forest, where he committed five
robberies in one day, but soon spent what he thus gained among
women of ill-fame. Thinking it unsafe to remain longer in London,
he set out with a view of going to Ireland; but had ridden only to
Barnet when he crossed the country to Harrow-on-the-Hill, where
he robbed a gentleman, named Sleep, of his money and watch, and
would have taken his wig, but the other said it was of no value, and
he hoped, as it was cold weather, his health might not be
endangered by being deprived of it. The robber threatened Mr
Sleep's life unless he would swear never to take any notice of the
affair; but this the gentleman absolutely refused. Hereupon Simms
said that if he had not robbed him, two other persons would; and
told him to say "Thomas" if he should meet any people on
horseback.

Soon after this, Mr Sleep, meeting two men whom he
presumed to be accomplices of the highwayman, cried out
"Thomas!" -- but the travellers paying no regard to him he was
confirmed in his suspicions, and rode after them; and on his arrival
at Hoddesdon Green he found several other persons, all of them in
pursuit of the highwayman.

In the meantime Simms rode forward, and robbed the St
Albans stage; after which he went as far as Hockliffe; but, being
now greatly fatigued, he fell asleep in the kitchen of an inn,
whither he was pursued by some light horsemen from St Albans,
who took him into custody. Being confined for that night, he was
carried in the morning before a magistrate, who committed him to
Bedford Jail. By an unaccountable neglect his pistol had not been
taken from him, and on his way to prison he attempted to shoot one
of his guards; but the pistol missing fire, his hands were tied
behind him; and when he arrived at the prison he was fastened to
the floor, with an iron collar round his neck. Being removed to
London, by a writ of habeas corpus, he was lodged in Newgate,
where he was visited, from motives of curiosity, by numbers of
people, whom he amused with a narrative of his having been
employed to shoot the King.

On this he was examined before the Duke of Newcastle,
then Secretary of State; but, his whole story bearing evident marks
of a fiction, he was remanded to Newgate, to take his trial at the
ensuing Old Bailey sessions. Ten indictments were preferred
against him; but, being convicted for the robbery of Mr Sleep, it
was not thought necessary to arraign him on any other of the
indictments.

After conviction he behaved with great unconcern, and in
some instances with insolence. Having given a fellowprisoner a
violent blow, he was chained to the floor. He appeared shocked
when the warrant for his execution arrived; but soon resumed his
former indifference, and continued it even to the moment of
execution, when he behaved in the most thoughtless manner.

He was hanged at Tyburn, on the 16th of November, 1747.

SERJEANT SMITH
An English Deserter to the French, shot in the Park on the 11th day of
December, 1747.

 WE should not have accorded to the case of this ungrateful
traitor a separate memoir, were it not to hand down his crime to
posterity, as an example to the army, and a caution against desertion.

 Courts-martial are composed of a certain number of officers,
according to the magnitude of the charge against the prisoner, of which
one is the president, and another judge-advocate. A regimental court-
martial is appointed by the commander of each troop or regiment for the
trial of offences which are not deemed sufficiently heinous to be
carried to a general court-martial. Regimental courts-martial are often
assembled, sometimes in a few minutes, at the drum-head, and consist of
a captain, the president, and four subaltern officers, members. They
are not sworn, but give sentence and judgment like the Lords, sitting
on the trial of a peer, on a charge affecting his life -- "Upon their
honours." This may be termed the internal or domestic management of a
regiment, trying offences by a court of its own officers; but where a
charge is of a serious nature, as mutiny, desertion, or treason, then
application is made to the commander-in-chief for a general court-
martial. It is composed of veteran officers, the oldest being the
president, and the advocate-general, or his deputy, attending. This
office partakes of both civil and military functions. He regulates the
evidence, propounds questions, as well for the prosecutor as the
accused, takes minutes of the trial, and sums up the evidence in the
manner of a civil judge, on the trial of a criminal, for the
determination of the court. This done, the court is cleared of all
strangers, and the members alone debate on the nature of the crime, and
offer their respective opinions, beginning with the youngest, who being
called upon by the president, pronounces "Guilty," or "Not Guilty," as
he feels the case. The next is then called upon, and a, majority of
voices forms the sentence; the president, on an equal number for and
against the prisoner, has the casting vote., When found guilty, in like
manner they determine upon the punishment, whether death or corporeal
punishment. The sentence is then sent to the King for approbation, and
when confirmed, the punishment is inflicted.

 On the 26th of November, 1747, a court-martial assembled at
Whitehall, of which Marshal Wade was president, for the purpose of
trying Serjeant Smith who had been lately brought from Scotland,
charged with deserting into the service of the French, and afterwards
to that of the rebels, and having heard the evidence for and against
the prisoner, he was found guilty.

 On the l1th of December he was conducted from the Savoy prison to
the parade in St. James's Park, where he was met by a detachment of the
foot-guards, commanded by Colonel Drury, to Hyde Park. The unhappy man
was attended by the minister of the Savoy, and having arrived at a
gibbet, under which was a new-made grave, to receive his body; to which
dreadful preparation he seemed little moved: indeed, there was an
apparent unconcern in the whole of his behaviour.

 This was a man of extraordinary abilities, and as vicious in his
principles. He had served several of the Princes in the then late wars
in Germany, and abused them all by desertion. He was master of several
languages, and from this acquirement he acted as interpreter to our
officers, who were so partial to him, that they appointed him a
paymaster-serjeant, and in fact treated him as their companion. His
income could not have been less than 200l. a year. A man thus caressed
must be truly a villain who could be base enough to desert his duty;
but Smith was of a roving turn, and could not keep long in a place,.
the excuse he gave for his crimes. He died undaunted, and declared
himself a protestant. Reports had been circulated, owing probably to
the fluency with which he spoke French, that he was a papist. He was
immediately buried under the gibbet, which was erected on the bank of
the Serpentine river.


in Denbighshire, and
having been liberally educated, was apprenticed to a silversmith, with
whom he served his time with a fair character, and then came to settle
in London.

 After a residence of more than twenty years, during which he
worked as a journeyman, he became distressed in circumstances, which
induced him to think of having recourse to the following method of
supplying his necessities.

 Having drawn a bill on Mr. Scott, a refiner in Love-lane, in the
name of Mr. Brown, of Lombard-street, for one hundred ounces of silver,
he carried it to the house of the former, who not being at home, an
apprentice read the draft, and asked if Parkes was a silversmith, and
for whom he worked. He told him for Mr. Robinson in Bond-street. The
apprentice said, he was well acquainted with Mr. Robinson; but not
knowing that his master dealt with Mr. Brown, begged that the bearer
would call for an answer in the morning.

 Parkes now went home to bed, but reflecting that he could imitate
Robinson's hand-writing, with which he was perfectly acquainted, he
wrote a letter in his name to Mr. Scott, informing him that he would be
answerable for Brown's credit, if any doubt was entertained of it; and
begging that no disappointment might happen.

 Parkes had some idea of carrying this letter himself; but
reflecting on the danger that might attend such a proceeding, he went
into a public-house, near Cripplegate, and calling for a pint of beer,
sent a porter with the letter, telling him to inform Mr. Scott, that he
came from Mr. Robinson, of Bond-street; and to add, that the person who
had been there the preceding day was taken ill. The porter was no
sooner gone, than Parkes paid, for his beer and told the woman of the
house, that if the porter brought any thing, he was to leave it at the
bar.

 This being done he followed the porter, and observing him go into
Mr. Scott's, he stopped in a dark passage till he saw him come out, and
when he, was at a small distance from the house he followed him, and
receiving the bag of silver, paid him for the porterage, and decamped
with all expedition. He carried his ill-gotten booty to the house of an
acquaintance near the Seven Dials, where he melted part of the silver,
and spent the produce in the most extravagant manner.

 Being reduced to poverty, he melted the remainder of the silver,
and mixing it with some copper; he offered it for sale to a refiner;
who threatened to apprehend him for presenting adulterated silver; but
the offender pretending that he had no intention of fraud, the refiner
paid him the amount of the silver.

 Having thus escaped punishment for the first offence, he
committed several other crimes of a similar nature, and at length that
which cost him his life. Having forged a note in the name of Mr.
Lamery, he carried it to a refiner in Oat-lane, named Froxhall,
desiring that 200 ounces of silver might be delivered to the bearer.
This note he delivered to Froxhall's apprentice, who carried it up
stairs to his master, but first fastened the door, that Parkes might
not escape. The, boy coming down soon, desired Parkes to sit down, and
his master would wait on him.. He did so; and Mr. Froxhall coming down,
asked, who wanted the silver. Parkes said, he did; on which he was
desired to wait, and he should have it; but in the mean time the
apprentice was sent for a constable, who conducted Parkes before the
Lord Mayor, who committed him to Newgate.

 Being indicted at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, he was
capitally convicted, and sentenced to die. After conviction, he
exhibited signs of the utmost penitence, and sincerely lamented the
past irregularities of his life. He behaved devoutly at the place of
execution, and warned others to avoid those practices which brought him
to a fatal end.


WILLIAM WHURRIER
Executed at Tyburn for murder, March 7, 1748, and his body hung in
chains on Finchley common. (A Hard Case.)

 WE cannot so clearly see by the report of this trial, as the jury
might have done by the evidence adduced, the malice propense necessary
to constitute the conviction of murder. But, though we are by no means
disposed to question a verdict of the country, yet we cannot avoid
saying, that the case added to the services which the unfortunate man
had rendered the king, should have proved a strong recommendation to
royal mercy.

 This soldier was a native of Morpeth, in Northumberland, and
brought up as a husbandman; but having inlisted in general Cope's
regiment, he served five years and a half in Flanders; when, some
horses being wanted for the use of the army, he and another man were
sent to England to purchase them.

 On the 11th of February, 1748, as Whurrier and his companion were
walking over Finchley Common towards Barnet, the latter, being wearied,
agreed with a post-boy, who went by with a led horse, to, permit him to
ride to Barnet, leaving Whurrier at an alehouse on the road. Whurrier
having drank freely; met with a woman who appeared to be his country-
woman, and with her he continued drinking till both of them were
intoxicated, when they proceeded together towards Barnet; but they were
followed by some sailors, one of whom insulted Whurrier, telling him
that he had no business with the woman.

 Whurrier suspecting there was a design to injure him, asked the
woman if she had any connection with those men. She said she had not:
but in the meantime the other Sailors coming up, said they came to
rescue the woman; on which Whurrier drew his sword; but returned it
into the scabbard without annoying any one.

 A soldier riding by at this instant, Whurrier told him that the
sailors had ill-treated him, and begged his assistance, on which the
soldier getting off his horse, the sailors ran away, and Whurrier
pursuing them, overtook the first that had assaulted him, and drawing
his sword, cut him in such a manner that he was carried in a hopeless
condition to a house in the neighbourhood, where he languished till the
Sunday following, and then died.

 It appeared by the testimony of a surgeon that the deceased had
received a cut across the skull, as if done with a butcher's chopper;
so that the brains, lay open; besides a variety of other wounds..

 Whurrier being taken into custody for the commission of this
murder, was brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey and
being capitally convicted on the clearest, evidence, was sentenced to
die.

 After conviction he said he thought there was a combination
between the woman he had met with and the sailors; and a day or two
before he suffered, he procured the following paper to be published,
which he called, "Whurrier's Declaration."

 "This is to let the world know that I have lived in good credit,
and have served his Majesty eight years and two months. In the time of
my service, I have stood six campaigns, and always obeyed all lawful
commands: I have been in three battles, and at Bergen-op-zoom, during
the time it was besieged. The first battle was at Dettingen, June,
1743, when his Majesty headed his army: the second was in the year
1745, April 30, at Fontenoy; the third was at Luckland, by siege;
besides several skirmishes, and other great dangers. I had. rather it
had been my fate to have died in the. field of battle, where I have
seen many thousand wallowing in their blood, than to come to such
disgrace: but, alas! I have escaped all these dangers to come to this
unhappy fate, to suffer at Tyburn, and afterwards to hang in chains on
a gibbet, which last is the nearest concern to me; and I cannot help
expressing, that it would be more beneficial to the public to employ
blacksmiths to make breast-plates for the soldiers, than irons to
inclose their bodies to be exposed to the fowls of the air.

 "I have been a true subject and faithful servant, as is well
known to the officers of the regiment to which I belonged. If I had
been a pick-pocket, or a thief, I should have suffered much more
deservedly, in my own opinion, than I now do; for what I did was in my
own defence: I was upon the king's duty, and was assaulted by the men
in sailors' habits, who gave me so many hard blows, as well as so much
bad language, that I could no longer bear it, and was obliged to draw
my sword in my own defence; and being in too great a passion, as well
as too much in liquor, I own I struck without mercy; as thinking my
life in danger, surrounded by four men, who I thought designed to
murder me; who, or what they were the Lord knows; it is plain they had
a false pass, as it was proved: and that they had travelled but seven
miles in nine days; but I forgive them, as I hope forgiveness: and the
Lord have mercy on My soul, and the poor man's whom I killed.

 W. WHURRIER."


WILLIAM YORK
"The Boy Murderer," convicted of the Murder of another Child in
the Poorhouse of Eyke, in Suffolk, May, 1748

THIS sinner was but just turned ten years of age when he
committed the dreadful crime. He was a pauper in the poorhouse
belonging to the parish of Eyke, in Suffolk, and was committed, on
the coroner's inquest, to Ipswich Jail for the murder of Susan
Mahew, another child, of five years of age, who had been his
bedfellow. The following is his confession, taken and attested by a
Justice of the Peace, and which was, in part, proved on his trial,
with many corroborating circumstances of his guilt.

He said that a trifling quarrel happening between them, on
the 13th of May, 1748, about ten in the morning, he struck her with
his open hand, and made her cry. That she going out of the house
to the dunghill, opposite to the door, he followed her with a hook
in his hand, with an intent to kill her; but before he came up to her
he set down the hook, and went into the house for a knife; he then
came out again, took hold of the girl's left hand, and cut her wrist
all round and to the bone, with his knife, and then threw her down, 
and cut her to the bone just above the elbow of the same arm. That
after this he set his foot upon her stomach, and cut her right arm
round about, and to the bone, both on the wrist and above the
elbow. That he then thought she would not die, and therefore took
the hook and cut her left thigh to the bone; and, observing she was
not dead yet, his next care was to conceal the murder. For this
purpose he filled a pail with water at a ditch, and washed the blood
off the child's body, buried it in the dunghill, together with the
blood that was spilt upon the ground, and made the dunghill as
smooth as he could; afterwards he washed the knife and hook, and
carried them into the house, washed the blood off his own clothes,
hid the child's clothes in an old chamber, and then came down and
got his breakfast.

This "boy murderer" was found guilty, and sentence of death
pronounced against him; but he was respited from time to time,
and on account of his tender years, was at length pardoned.



GEORGE COCK
A most Plausible Scoundrel, executed at Tyburn, 13th of June,
1748, for privately stealing

THIS artful rogue was born in the neighbourhood of
Aldgate, and for seven or eight years lived as errand-boy and
porter to several tradesmen, none of whom had reason to suspect
that he purloined their property; but he was held by them in no
esteem, on account of his being frequently intoxicated and
associating with people of dissolute principles.

Having made pretensions of love to a maid-servant in the
neighbourhood of Mayfair, she invited him to her master's house.
He was punctual to the appointment, and during his stay
treacherously stole a silver spoon of about twelve shillings' value.

Learning that a lady lived at Streatham whose son was
abroad, he went to her house and informed her that he was lately
arrived in England, and waited upon her by the desire of the young
gentleman, to assure her of the continuance of his filial affection.
He was invited to partake of the best provisions the house could
afford, and entertained with great liberality, kindness and respect.
After he had sufficiently refreshed himself, and secreted a large
silver spoon in his pocket, he departed.

Upon gaining information that the father of a young
gentleman of Bartholomew Lane was abroad, he went to the house
and pretended to the youth that he was preparing to embark for the
country in which his father resided; saying that, as he was
acquainted with the old gentleman, he should be happy to deliver
any message or letter, or execute any commission with which the
son might think proper to charge him. His reception here was not
less hospitable than that he experienced at Streatham, and he did
not take leave till he had conveyed a silver cup into his pocket,
with which he got off undiscovered. He sold the cup, and expended
the money it produced in the most extravagant manner.

Cock went to the house of the captain of a trading vessel in
Ratcliff Highway, whom he knew was at sea, expecting that he
should be able to amuse his wife by some plausible pretences, and
to obtain a booty before he left the house. He was informed that the
captain's lady was not at home; but was invited into the house by
her mother, who told him that she expected her daughter's return in
a very short time. Being shown into the kitchen, he asked the maid-
servant for some table-beer, and while she was gone to draw it he
secreted a large silver tankard. Upon the maid's bringing the beer
he drank heartily, and then, pretending that he had some business
to transact which would not permit him to stay any longer, took
leave, promising to return on the following day. He sold the
tankard to a Jew.

He inquired of a servant-maid in Spitalfields whether there
were not some women in that neighbourhood whose husbands
were in foreign parts. The girl said the husbands of two or three of
her master's neighbours were abroad, and asked the name of the
person he desired to find. He said he had forgotten the name, but
artfully added that he should remember it upon hearing it repeated;
in consequence of which she mentioned some names, and upon his
saying that one of them was that of the party he wanted the girl
directed him to the house where the wife of his supposed friend
resided. He told the woman that he was lately arrived in England,
and by her husband's particular desire called to inform her of his
being in perfect health when he embarked. He formed some trifling
excuse for occasioning the woman to leave the apartment, and
soon after her return he went away, taking with him a pint silver
tankard and two silver tablespoons.

By the above, and other villainies of a similar nature, he
gained a maintenance for several years; but it will now appear that,
notwithstanding the art he employed in the pursuit of villainy, he at
length fell a just victim to the insulted laws of his country.

Cock went to two ladies in Soho Square in one day, under
the pretext of delivering messages from their husbands, who had
been several years resident in foreign parts, and was received by
them in the most kind and hospitable manner. He had been gone
but a short time when one of the ladies missed some silver spoons;
in consequence of which he was pursued and taken before a
magistrate, and during his examination the other appeared, and on
oath identified a silver tankard found in the prisoner's possession.
He was committed to Newgate, and at the ensuing sessions at the
Old Bailey condemned to suffer death.

During his confinement in Newgate he showed not the least
remorse for his past offences, nor employed any part of the short
time he had to exist in making the necessary preparation for the
awful change he was about to experience; but flattered himself in
the expectation of being reprieved. However, after learning that he
was ordered for execution, he in some degree corrected the
irregularity of his behaviour; but still his conduct was by no means
such as might have been expected from a man in his dreadful
situation.

He was almost wholly regardless of the devotional
exercises at the place of execution, and refused to address the
populace, though urged to it by the ordinary.


THOMAS THOMPSON
Executed at Tyburn, Oct. 24, 1748, for horse-stealing.

 THE parents of this offender lived at Otley in Yorkshire: his
father dying, his mother and a numerous family were left in very
indigent circumstances. Thomas being arrived at a proper age, the
parish-officers proposed binding him apprentice; but he declined the
offer, saying he should prefer going to sea with a captain who was come
into the country, to visit his mother and other relations. He
accompanied the captain to Durham; and the master of the post-house in
that city, thinking him an active and promising youth, hired him to
wait upon his customers three days in a week, and to ride post on the
others. During the three years that he remained in this station, he was
guilty of stealing money out of letters, and of several other acts, of
delinquency, of which, however, he was not suspected until some time
after he had quitted his master's service.

 From Durham he went, to Otley, but not being able to procure
employment there, he proceeded to Rippon, where he was engaged as a
waiter at the sign of the King's Head. In about three months; he robbed
his master of thirteen pounds, and absconded. Going again to the place
of his nativity, he learnt that an aunt lately deceased had bequeathed 
him twelve pounds and having received the legacy, and purchased some
new apparel, set out for London, where in a short. time he spent all
his money in disorderly houses, among women of ill fame. Being in
circumstances of distress, he, made application for relief to a
relation, who behaved to him with great tenderness and generosity:
notwithstanding which he availed himself of an opportunity of robbing
his benefactor of two silver spoons.

 He offered the. spoons for sale to a silversmith near Charing-
cross; but his honesty being suspected, a messenger was dispatched to
inquire whether he lived at the place he had mentioned to the shop-
keeper. Before the messenger's return Thompson effected his escaped ;
and it appeared that he had given a false direction. In a few days he
was met near Exeter-change by the silversmith, who insisted upon his
going home with him; but being a man of an easy disposition, he was
prevailed upon by the entreaties of the young villain to favour his
escape.

 He now returned to Otley, and a dancing meeting being held there
one evening; he made one of the company: at this place he prevailed
upon a young woman, to consent to his partaking to her bed; but she
dismissed him upon discovering that he was destitute of money. Thus
disappointed, he returned to the house where he lodged, and broke open
a box, whence he stole fifteen shillings.

 Early the next morning he stole a horse, and rode his late
master's at Durham, where he said he was employed to go to Newcastle on
some business of importance, and should return on the following day.
The inn-keeper believed his tale, and upon his repeating his visit the
next day, gave him a hearty welcome, and expressed much pleasure at the
seemingly favourable change in his situation. In the morning, however,
the boy who had been with the mail to Darlington, informed Thompson
that the hue-and-cry was after him on suspicion of horse-stealing. In
consequence of this intelligence he took the road for Scotland, and
selling the stolen horse at Berwick-upon-Tweed, proceeded on foot to
Cockburn, and hiring a horse there, rode to Dunbar where having slept
one night, he se out for Edinburgh in a post-chaise.

 At Edinburgh he pretended to be servant to a military officer,
and persuaded a young woman, who was servant at the inn where he
lodged, to admit him to a share of her bed. In the morning she
discovered that her box had been broken open, and her money, besides
two gold rings bequeathed her by a relation; stolen thereout. She
accused Thompson of the robbery, and threatened a prosecution; but was
appeased upon his restoring the effects.

 His next expedition was to Perth, where he engaged himself as a
servant to a military officer, His master being ordered into Yorkshire
upon the recruiting service, Thompson accompanied him: but thinking it
unsafe to remain in a part of the country where he was well known, he
stole a horse about eleven o'clock at night, and took the road to
Nottingham. For this offence he was tried at the next assizes, and
sentenced to die; but interest being made in his favour, he received a
pardon on condition of transportation for fourteen years.

 As he behaved in a remarkably decent and regular manner, the
keeper of the prison granted him many indulgences, which he determined
to seize an opportunity of making use of to his own advantage; and
accordingly observing that on some occasion the maid-servant was
intrusted with the keys, he seized her by surprise, and taking them
from her recovered his liberty,

 Upon his escape from prison he proceeded to London, where be
inlisted into a regiment then abroad, and was conducted to the Savoy:
but being soon after attacked by a fever, he was sent to an hospital.
Being tolerably recovered in about two months, he deserted, and going
to Rochester inlisted into a regiment lying in that city. About five
weeks after his arrival in Rochester, he robbed the waiter of the house
where he was quartered, and again deserting travelled to Hatfield in
Hertfordshire, where he inlisted into a regiment, from which he also
deserted in about six weeks. He now went to Chichester, and having
there entered into his majesty's service as a marine, was ordered on
board a ship, lying at Portsmouth. In about two months he was ordered
on shore, and quartered in Chichester, where he robbed his lodgings,
and having stolen a mare belonging to a farmer rode towards the
metropolis.

 The farmer having a value for the beast hastened to London,
expecting that she would be exposed for sale in Smithfield. He put up
at the White Bear in Basinghall-street, and there found both his mare
and the man who had stolen her. Thompson being taken before the Lord
Mayor, was committed for trial at the Old Bailey, where he was
convicted, and sentenced to die.

 When he was confined in the cells of Newgate, he appeared to be
struck with a consciousness of the enormity of his guilt. He constantly
attended divine service in the chapel; and when visited by the ordinary
behaved in a manner that evinced the sincerity of his repentance.



JOHN WHITMORE AND JEREMIAH DAWES
Of the University of Oxford. Convicted and punished for Sedition,
28 th of November, 1748

SOON after the Rebellion was crushed, great discontent
was discovered in several private meetings, which, being of little
import to the commonweal, was passed over, under the hopes that
time would reconcile jarring opinions to the family on the throne.
But it was little expected that the smallest spark of sedition should
be fanned into a flame among students at a university, among men
half grown in body and still weaker in mind.

That such was actually the case we shall show; and to this
end give verbatim the proclamation of the Vice-Chancellor of
Oxford. At a meeting of the Vice-Chancellor, Heads of
Houses, and Proctors of the University of Oxford, on Monday,
11th of April, 1748: --

"Whereas there have been lately some very tumultuous
disturbances and outrages committed in the public streets of
Oxford, by young scholars of the University, particularly on the
23rd of February last past, amounting to a notorious insult on his
Majesty's crown and government, and in utter contempt of the
wholesome laws and discipline of this University and the
Governors thereof; we, the Vice-Chancellor, Heads of Houses, and
Proctors, this day assembled, think it incumbent on us to make this
public declaration of our sincere abhorrence and detestation of
such factions and seditious practices, as also of our firm resolution
to punish all offenders (of what state or quality soever they are)
who shall be duly convicted thereof, according to the uttermost
severity and rigour of our statutes.

"And whereas many of the disorders complained of have
been chiefly and immediately owing to scholars having private
entertainments and company at their chambers, which are
generally attended with great intemperance and excess, and always
with expense, that are both needless and hurtful: we therefore
earnestly recommend it to all bursars, deans, censors and tutors to
prevent, as much as in their power, this unstatutable and
mischievous practice, and to oblige all persons to attend in the
common hall at the usual hours of dinner and supper.

"And as these irregularities are too frequently practised (as
we have reason to believe) at coffee-houses, cook-shops and
victualling-houses, all proctors and magistrates of the University
are strictly required to be vigilant and careful in visiting all such
public-houses and places of entertainment and idleness, and in duly
punishing all young scholars whom they shall at any time find at
such places; and likewise laying a mulct on the masters or
mistresses of such houses for receiving and entertaining such
scholars, contrary to the known rules, orders and statutes of the
University. Given under our hand the day and year above
mentioned.

J. PURNELL,

Vice-Chancellor.

In consequence of this proclamation several of these
beardless striplings of sedition were apprehended, and removed to
the Court of King's Bench at Westminster, to take their trial before
a jury of their country, and John Whitmore and Jeremiah Dawes
were found guilty. Charles Luxmore, after a trial of eight hours,
was acquitted.

On Monday, 28th of November, 1748, these two scholars
were brought up to the bar of the Court of King's Bench to receive
sentence, which was, "To be fined five nobles each, to suffer two
years' imprisonment in the King's Bench Prison, and to find two
sureties for their good behaviour for seven years, themselves to be
bound in five hundred pounds and their securities in two hundred
and fifty pounds each; and that they immediately walk round
Westminster Hall, with a label affixed to their foreheads, denoting
their crime and sentence, and to ask pardon of the several Courts."

They accordingly were each labelled on the forehead and
led round the Hall, stopping at each Court to solicit pardon, and
then sent to prison.



THE THIEF, THE PRIESTS, AND THE GREAT KING OF PRUSSIA
An Anecdotal Fact, and a touch at Superstition.

 To this monarch have many good sayings been ascribed; for many
noble and generous deeds has he been accredited; and more is yet due to
his memory than comes to the share of conscience in a whole batch of
Buonaparte's kings.

 A Prussian soldier on duty, in a small garrison town in Silesia,
being suspected of making free with some offerings made by pious
Catholics to the Blessed Virgin, was watched and detected, and two
silver hearts were found upon him, for which. he was sentenced to die.
The man pleaded innocence, and insisted that the Virgin, in pity to his
poverty, had appeared to him, and ordered him to take the two pieces.
And on this plea he appealed to the King, who, on the soldier's
representation, consulted with the ablest of the Roman Catholic
divines, if they thought such a miracle impossible, who unanimously
declared, that the case was extraordinary, but not impossible.

 On which his Majesty wrote, with his own hand, words to, the
following effect.:

 "The convict cannot justly be put to death, because he owes the
present of the two pieces of silver to the bounty of the Blessed
Virgin; and the divines of his religion are unanimously of opinion,
that the miracle wrought in his favour is not impossible; but have
strictly forbid him to receive any more such presents from any saint
whatever."



JOHN YOUNG
Executed for Forgery, at Edinburgh, 19th December, 1748


THE subject of this narrative was born of a Protestant family at
Belfast, in Ireland, and received a liberal education. At the usual
time of life he was apprenticed to a linen-draper residing in the
town where he was born. Having served about three years, his
master died; and, as the widow declined business, he engaged as
clerk to a wholesale dealer, whose goods were principally sent to
the London market and Chester fair.

He remained with his employer till his arrival at manhood; but at
length absconded, in consequence of one of his master's servant-
maids proving with child by him. He intended to settle in Dublin;
but in his way to that city he met with a recruiting party belonging
to the fourth regiment of foot, who urged him to drink till he
became intoxicated, and then prevailed upon him to enlist.

Young, being handsome in person and accomplished in manners,
was soon distinguished by his officers, who, on the first vacancy,
promoted him to be a sergeant.

He marched from Tournay to join the regiment at Ghent, in
Flanders, and arrived but a few days preceding that on which was
fought the terrible battle of Fontenoy. His behaviour in that action
was greatly commended by his officers, who, upon the return of
the regiment to Ghent, conferred upon him many instances of
particular respect, and appointed him paymaster to the company to
which he belonged.

The regiment in which Young was a sergeant was one of those
ordered into Scotland for the purpose of suppressing the rebellion,
which broke out soon after the battle of Fontenoy; but, as a
considerable loss of private men had been sustained, he was
ordered to go upon the recruiting service to Chester, Manchester,
Liverpool, and other places.

The recruits engaged by Young were paid the bounty-money
without the least deduction, and he would not encourage them to
spend any part of it in an extravagant or useless manner. In the
space of four months he raised a hundred and fifty men; and it is
presumed that the strict integrity of his conduct greatly promoted
his success. Upon joining his regiment in Scotland, his officers
advanced him to the post of sergeant-major, as a reward for his
services. At the battle of Falkirk he put several of the rebels to
death with his halbert, and behaved in other respects with
remarkable intrepidity.

Upon the command of the army being assumed by the Duke of
Cumberland, the regiment to which Young belonged was ordered
to march to the north. On account of the singular bravery they
displayed at the battle of Culloden, and the great slaughter of men,
this regiment was not ordered to return to Flanders, but permitted
to remain in Scotland.

Upon tranquillity being re-established in the Highlands, the fourth
regiment was appointed to perform duty in Edinburgh Castle, and
Young was dispatched to Bristol upon a recruiting expedition. He
enlisted a considerable number of men at Bristol, and, on his return
to Scotland, his officers complimented him with a handsome
present. 	He was now sent to raise recruits in Yorkshire; and,
while at Sheffield, in that county, he engaged in a criminal
intercourse with the wife of an innkeeper, who, when he was
preparing to depart, secreted property to a considerable amount,
and followed her lover to Scotland. In a short time the innkeeper
came to Edinburgh in search of his wife, and complained in
passionate terms of the cruel and treacherous treatment he had
received. The nature of his connexion with the woman being made
public, Young appeared to be greatly disconcerted whenever be
met with persons to whom he supposed the matter had been
communicated; but in justice to his character we must observe,
that, so far from encouraging the woman to rob her husband, he
was entirely ignorant of every thing relating to that matter till her
husband's arrival at Edinburgh. Notwithstanding the above affair,
Young was still held in much esteem by his officers; and in a short
tune the regiment was ordered to proceed to the North, and
remained in the royal barracks at Inverness for above a
twelvemonth.

Young being both sergeant-major and paymaster, many notes on
the bank of Scotland necessarily came into his possession. While
looking over some of these notes in the guard-room, a man named
Parker, whom he had enlisted in England, observed that, if he had
a few tools, he could engrave a plate for counterfeiting the notes on
the Edinburgh bank. Young seemed to give but little attention to
what the other said; but took him to an alehouse on the following
day, and requested an explanation as to the manner of executing
the scheme he had suggested. Parker informed him that, besides
engraving an exact resemblance of the letters and figures, he could
form a machine for printing such notes as should not he known
from those of the Scotch hank.

In short, Young hired a private apartment for Parker, and supplied
him with every utensil necessary for carrying the iniquitous plan
into effect; and, in a short time, some counterfeit notes were
produced, hearing a near resemblance to the real ones. Upwards of
six months elapsed before the fraud was detected.

Orders being issued for the regiment to march to England, Young
determined to procure cash for as many notes as possible
previously to his departure from Inverness, knowing that in the
southern parts the forgery would be liable to immediate detection.
With this view he applied to Mr. Gordon, who was concerned in
the stocking-manufactory at Aberdeen, and prevailed upon him to
give sixty pounds in cash for notes expressing to be of the same
value.

On his journey from Inverness, Mr. Gordon parted with several of
the notes at different places; but, upon reaching Aberdeen, an
advertisement in the newspapers, in the name of the governors of
the bank at Edinburgh, convinced him that he had been deceived.
In consequence of this Mr. Gordon wrote to the sheriff of
Inverness, who immediately took Young into custody, and found
three hundred notes, and the copper-plate from which they bad
been printed, in his possession. Parker was admitted an evidence
for the crown, and Young was removed to Edinburgh for trial
before the High Court of Justiciary. After a trial that lasted a whole
day, he was pronounced to be guilty, and sentenced to suffer death.

While this malefactor was under confinement be would not
consent to be visited by the clergy, though several, from motives of
humanity, were desirous of using their endeavours to prepare him
for eternity. He was informed by his fellow-prisoners that, if he
could procrastinate his execution beyond the appointed time, his
life would of necessity be preserved; for that the crown law of
Scotland declared that condemned prisoners should be executed
between two and four o'clock on the days expressed. Being
ignorant of the law, the unhappy man was amused by this story,
and hoped to escape punishment by the following means:  he
secured the strong iron door of the room wherein he was confined
in such a manner, that when the gaoler came, in order to conduct
him to the place of execution, he could not gain admittance.

Upwards of fifty carpenters, smiths, masons, and other artificers,
were sent for, to open a passage; but they all declined undertaking
a business which they deemed to be impracticable, and were
unanimously of opinion that an aperture could not be made in the
wall without endangering the whole fabric.

Matters being thus circumstanced, the lord-provost and the rest of
the magistrates assembled at the prison, and, after long debates, it
was determined to form an opening to the room by breaking
through the floor of that immediately above.

The opening being made, the prisoner leaped up, and, seizing a
musket from one of the city guards, declared, with an oath, that, if
any man attempted to molest him, he would immediately dash out
his brains. Six of the soldiers, however, suddenly descended, and
one of them received a terrible blow from the prisoner; but he was
immediately after secured by the other five, and executed.

John Young underwent the sentence of the law in the Grassmarket
of Edinburgh, about six o'clock on the evening of the 19th of 
December, 1748.

Young was not addicted to indulge himself in expensive pleasures;
and we may suppose that his pay as a private soldier, added to the
emoluments be derived from the posts of sergeant-major and
paymaster to his regiment, would have proved equal to every
reasonable gratification, especially in a country where the
necessaries and conveniences of life were to be procured with
moderate expense.

It must be acknowledged that his seduction of his master's maid-
servant and the innkeeper's wife were offences of a most heinous
nature; but in other respects his character was unimpeached: he
was highly respected by his officers, and universally esteemed by
all who were acquainted with him; be was in the way to
preferment, and would, in all probability, have made a
distinguished figure in life, had he been contented to proceed by
the gradual advances to fortune; but, from the hint given by Parker,
he conceived the hopes of speedily amassing great riches, without
considering that wealth unjustifiably obtained must necessarily
prove the source of affliction to the possessor.


JOHN YOUNG
Executed for Forgery, at Edinburgh, 19th December, 1748


THE subject of this narrative was born of a Protestant family at
Belfast, in Ireland, and received a liberal education. At the usual
time of life he was apprenticed to a linen-draper residing in the
town where he was born. Having served about three years, his
master died; and, as the widow declined business, he engaged as
clerk to a wholesale dealer, whose goods were principally sent to
the London market and Chester fair.

He remained with his employer till his arrival at manhood; but at
length absconded, in consequence of one of his master's servant-
maids proving with child by him. He intended to settle in Dublin;
but in his way to that city he met with a recruiting party belonging
to the fourth regiment of foot, who urged him to drink till he
became intoxicated, and then prevailed upon him to enlist.

Young, being handsome in person and accomplished in manners,
was soon distinguished by his officers, who, on the first vacancy,
promoted him to be a sergeant.

He marched from Tournay to join the regiment at Ghent, in
Flanders, and arrived but a few days preceding that on which was
fought the terrible battle of Fontenoy. His behaviour in that action
was greatly commended by his officers, who, upon the return of
the regiment to Ghent, conferred upon him many instances of
particular respect, and appointed him paymaster to the company to
which he belonged.

The regiment in which Young was a sergeant was one of those
ordered into Scotland for the purpose of suppressing the rebellion,
which broke out soon after the battle of Fontenoy; but, as a
considerable loss of private men had been sustained, he was
ordered to go upon the recruiting service to Chester, Manchester,
Liverpool, and other places.

The recruits engaged by Young were paid the bounty-money
without the least deduction, and he would not encourage them to
spend any part of it in an extravagant or useless manner. In the
space of four months he raised a hundred and fifty men; and it is
presumed that the strict integrity of his conduct greatly promoted
his success. Upon joining his regiment in Scotland, his officers
advanced him to the post of sergeant-major, as a reward for his
services. At the battle of Falkirk he put several of the rebels to
death with his halbert, and behaved in other respects with
remarkable intrepidity.

Upon the command of the army being assumed by the Duke of
Cumberland, the regiment to which Young belonged was ordered
to march to the north. On account of the singular bravery they
displayed at the battle of Culloden, and the great slaughter of men,
this regiment was not ordered to return to Flanders, but permitted
to remain in Scotland.

Upon tranquillity being re-established in the Highlands, the fourth
regiment was appointed to perform duty in Edinburgh Castle, and
Young was dispatched to Bristol upon a recruiting expedition. He
enlisted a considerable number of men at Bristol, and, on his return
to Scotland, his officers complimented him with a handsome
present. 	He was now sent to raise recruits in Yorkshire; and,
while at Sheffield, in that county, he engaged in a criminal
intercourse with the wife of an innkeeper, who, when he was
preparing to depart, secreted property to a considerable amount,
and followed her lover to Scotland. In a short time the innkeeper
came to Edinburgh in search of his wife, and complained in
passionate terms of the cruel and treacherous treatment he had
received. The nature of his connexion with the woman being made
public, Young appeared to be greatly disconcerted whenever be
met with persons to whom he supposed the matter had been
communicated; but in justice to his character we must observe,
that, so far from encouraging the woman to rob her husband, he
was entirely ignorant of every thing relating to that matter till her
husband's arrival at Edinburgh. Notwithstanding the above affair,
Young was still held in much esteem by his officers; and in a short
tune the regiment was ordered to proceed to the North, and
remained in the royal barracks at Inverness for above a
twelvemonth.

Young being both sergeant-major and paymaster, many notes on
the bank of Scotland necessarily came into his possession. While
looking over some of these notes in the guard-room, a man named
Parker, whom he had enlisted in England, observed that, if he had
a few tools, he could engrave a plate for counterfeiting the notes on
the Edinburgh bank. Young seemed to give but little attention to
what the other said; but took him to an alehouse on the following
day, and requested an explanation as to the manner of executing
the scheme he had suggested. Parker informed him that, besides
engraving an exact resemblance of the letters and figures, he could
form a machine for printing such notes as should not he known
from those of the Scotch hank.

In short, Young hired a private apartment for Parker, and supplied
him with every utensil necessary for carrying the iniquitous plan
into effect; and, in a short time, some counterfeit notes were
produced, hearing a near resemblance to the real ones. Upwards of
six months elapsed before the fraud was detected.

Orders being issued for the regiment to march to England, Young
determined to procure cash for as many notes as possible
previously to his departure from Inverness, knowing that in the
southern parts the forgery would be liable to immediate detection.
With this view he applied to Mr. Gordon, who was concerned in
the stocking-manufactory at Aberdeen, and prevailed upon him to
give sixty pounds in cash for notes expressing to be of the same
value.

On his journey from Inverness, Mr. Gordon parted with several of
the notes at different places; but, upon reaching Aberdeen, an
advertisement in the newspapers, in the name of the governors of
the bank at Edinburgh, convinced him that he had been deceived.
In consequence of this Mr. Gordon wrote to the sheriff of
Inverness, who immediately took Young into custody, and found
three hundred notes, and the copper-plate from which they bad
been printed, in his possession. Parker was admitted an evidence
for the crown, and Young was removed to Edinburgh for trial
before the High Court of Justiciary. After a trial that lasted a whole
day, he was pronounced to be guilty, and sentenced to suffer death.

While this malefactor was under confinement be would not
consent to be visited by the clergy, though several, from motives of
humanity, were desirous of using their endeavours to prepare him
for eternity. He was informed by his fellow-prisoners that, if he
could procrastinate his execution beyond the appointed time, his
life would of necessity be preserved; for that the crown law of
Scotland declared that condemned prisoners should be executed
between two and four o'clock on the days expressed. Being
ignorant of the law, the unhappy man was amused by this story,
and hoped to escape punishment by the following means:  he
secured the strong iron door of the room wherein he was confined
in such a manner, that when the gaoler came, in order to conduct
him to the place of execution, he could not gain admittance.

Upwards of fifty carpenters, smiths, masons, and other artificers,
were sent for, to open a passage; but they all declined undertaking
a business which they deemed to be impracticable, and were
unanimously of opinion that an aperture could not be made in the
wall without endangering the whole fabric.

Matters being thus circumstanced, the lord-provost and the rest of
the magistrates assembled at the prison, and, after long debates, it
was determined to form an opening to the room by breaking
through the floor of that immediately above.

The opening being made, the prisoner leaped up, and, seizing a
musket from one of the city guards, declared, with an oath, that, if
any man attempted to molest him, he would immediately dash out
his brains. Six of the soldiers, however, suddenly descended, and
one of them received a terrible blow from the prisoner; but he was
immediately after secured by the other five, and executed.

John Young underwent the sentence of the law in the Grassmarket
of Edinburgh, about six o'clock on the evening of the 19th of 
December, 1748.

Young was not addicted to indulge himself in expensive pleasures;
and we may suppose that his pay as a private soldier, added to the
emoluments be derived from the posts of sergeant-major and
paymaster to his regiment, would have proved equal to every
reasonable gratification, especially in a country where the
necessaries and conveniences of life were to be procured with
moderate expense.

It must be acknowledged that his seduction of his master's maid-
servant and the innkeeper's wife were offences of a most heinous
nature; but in other respects his character was unimpeached: he
was highly respected by his officers, and universally esteemed by
all who were acquainted with him; be was in the way to
preferment, and would, in all probability, have made a
distinguished figure in life, had he been contented to proceed by
the gradual advances to fortune; but, from the hint given by Parker,
he conceived the hopes of speedily amassing great riches, without
considering that wealth unjustifiably obtained must necessarily
prove the source of affliction to the possessor.






BENJAMIN TAPNER, JOHN COBBY, JOHN HAMMOND,
RICHARD MILLS, RICHARD MILLS THE YOUNGER, AND
OTHERS
Revengeful Smugglers, who were executed for a Diabolical
Murder, 18th of January, 1749

While London and its environs were beset with gangs of
highwaymen and pickpockets, the country was infested by villains
not less dangerous, and much more cruel, who preyed upon the
public by defrauding the revenue.

Smugglers formerly went in parties, strong enough to
oppose the officers of excise; and, whenever a custom-house
officer fell into their hands, he was most barbarously treated, and
often murdered.

The two unfortunate men who were cruelly murdered by
this gang of desperate villains, were W. Galley, the elder, a
custom-house officer in Southampton; and D. Chater, a shoe-
maker, of Fordingbridge. Having been sent to give information
respecting some circumstances attending the daring burglary into
the custom-house at Pool; and not returning to their respective
homes, a suspicion arose that they had been waylaid, and murdered
by the smugglers; and a search for them was therefore instituted.

Those employed for this purpose, after every inquiry, could
bear no certain tidings of them; as the fear of the smugglers'
resentment, silenced such inhabitants on the road, over which they
had carried the unfortunate men, as were not in connection with
them. At length, a Mr Stone, following his hounds, came to a spot,
which appeared to have been dug not long before; and the publicity
of the circumstances of those men being missed, he conjectured
that they might have been buried there, and, upon digging nearly
seven feet in the earth, were found the remains of Galley, but in so
putrid a state, as not to be known, except by the clothes. The search
after Chater was now pursued with redoubled vigilance, till found
in a well, six miles distant from Galley, in Harris Wood, near Lady
Holt Park, with a quantity of stones, wooden rails, and earth, upon
him.

The two men, Galley and Chater, went on Sunday, Feb. 14,
1748, to Major Batten, a justice of the peace, at Stanstead, in
Sussex, with a letter written by Mr Shearer, collector of the
customs at Southampton, requesting him to take an examination of
Chater, concerning one Diamond, or Dymar, who was committed
to Chichester gaol, on suspicion of being one who broke the King's
warehouse at Poole. Chater was engaged to give evidence, but with
some reluctance, having declared that he saw Diamond, and shook
hands with him, who, with many others, was coming from Poole,
loaded with tea, of which he threw him a bag. Having passed
Havant, and coming to the New Inn, at Leigh, they enquired their
way, when G. Austin, his brother, and brother-in-law, said that
they were going the same road, and would accompany them to
Rowland's Castle, where they might get better direction, it being
just by Stanfield Park.

A little before noon, they came to the White Hart at
Rowland's Castle, kept by Eliz. Payne, widow, who had two sons,
blacksmiths, in the same village. After some talk, she told G.
Austin, privately, she was afraid that these two strangers were
come to hurt the smugglers. He said, No, sure; they were only
carrying a letter to Major Batten. Upon this, she sent one of her
sons for W. Jackson and W. Carter, who lived near her house.
Meanwhile, Chater and Galley wanted to be going, and asked for
their horses; but she told them, that the Major was not at home,
which, indeed, was true.

As soon as Jackson and Carter came, she told them her
suspicions, with the circumstance of the letter. Soon after, she
advised G. Austin to go away, lest be should come to some harm;
he did so, leaving his brothers.

Payne's other son went and fetched in W. Steele, S.
Downer, (otherwise Little Samuel,) Edm. Richards, and H.
Sheerman, (otherwise Little Harry,) all smugglers, belonging to the
same gang.

After they had drank a little while, Carter, who had some
knowledge of Chater, called him into the yard and asked him
where Diamond was? Chater said, he believed he was in custody,
and that he was going to appear against him, which he was sorry
for, but could not help it. Galley came into the yard to them, and
asking Chater why he would stay there? Jackson, who followed
him, said, with a horrid imprecation, What is that to you? and
immediately struck him a blow in the face, which knocked him
down, and set his nose and mouth a-bleeding. Soon after, they all
came into the house, when Jackson, reviling Galley, offered to
strike him again but one of the Paines interposed. -- Galley and
Chater now began to be very uneasy, and wanted to be going; but
Jackson, Carter, and the rest of them, persuading them to stay and
drink more rum, and make it up, for they were sorry for what had
happened, they sat down again; Austin and his brother-in-law
being present. -- Jackson and Carter desired to see the letter, but
they refused to shew it. The smugglers then drank about
plentifully, and made Galley and Chater fuddled; then persuaded
them to lie down on a bed, which they did, and fell asleep. The
letter was then taken away, and read; and, the substance of it
greatly exasperating them, it was destroyed.

One John Royce, a smuggler, now came in; and Jackson
and Carter told him the contents of the letter, and that they had got
the old rogue, the shoe-maker, of Fordingbridge, who was going to
inform against J. Diamond, the shepherd, then in custody at
Chichester. -- Here W. Steele proposed to take them both to a well,
about two hundred yards from the house, and to murder and throw
them in.

This proposal was not taken, as they had been seen in their
company by the Austins, Mr Garnet, and one Mr Jenks, who was
newly come into the house to drink. It was next proposed to send
them to France; but that was objected against, as there was a
possibility of their coming over again. Jackson and Carter's wives
being present, cried out, Hang the dogs, for they are come here to
hang you. It was then proposed and agreed, to keep them confined
till they could know Diamond's fate; and whatever it was, to treat
these in the same manner; and each to allow threepence a week
towards keeping them.

Galley and Chater continuing asleep, Jackson went in, and
began the first scene of cruelty; for having put on his spurs, he got
upon the bed, and spurred their foreheads, to wake them, and
afterwards whipped them with a horse-whip; so that when they
came out, they were both bleeding. The abovesaid smugglers then
took them out of the house; but Richards returned with a pistol,
and swore be would shoot any person who should mention what
had passed.

Meanwhile, the rest put Galley and Chater on one horse,
tied their legs under the horse's belly, and then tied both their legs
together; they now set forward, all but Race, who had no horse.
They had not gone above two hundred yards before Jackson called
out, Whip 'em, cut 'em slash 'em, d--n 'em; upon which all began to
whip, except Steele, who led the horse, the roads being very bad.
They whipped them for half a mile, till they came to Woodash,
where they fell off, with their heads under the horse's belly, and
their legs, which were tied, appeared over the horse's back. Their
tormentors soon set them upright again, and continued whipping
them over the head, face, shoulders, &c. till they came to Dean,
upwards of half a mile farther; here they both fell again, as before,
with their heads under the horse's belly, which were struck, at
every step, by the horse's hoofs.

Upon placing them again on the saddle, they found them so
weak, that they could not sit; upon which they separated them, and
put Galley before Steele, and Chater before Little Sam, and then
whipped Galley so severely that the lashes coming upon Steele, at
his desire they desisted. They then went to Harris's Well, near
Lady Holt Park, where they took Galley off the horse, and
threatened to throw him into the well. Upon which he desired them
to dispatch him at once, and put an end to his misery. No, said
Jackson, cursing, if that's the case, we have more to say to you;
then put him on a horse again, and whipped him over the Downs,
till he was so weak, that be fell off; when they laid him across the
saddle, with his breast downwards, and Little Sam got up behind
him, and, as they went on, he squeezed Galley's testicles, so that he
groaned with the agony, and tumbled off: being then put on astride,
Richards got up behind him, but soon the poor man cried out, I fall,
I fall, I fall! and Richards pushing him said, Fall, and be d--n'd.
Upon which he fell down; and the villains thinking this fall had
broke his neck, laid him again on the horse, and proposed to go to
some proper place where Chater might be concealed till they heard
the fate of Diamond.

Jackson and Carter called at one Pescod's house, desiring
admittance for two sick men; but he absolutely refused it.

Being now one o'clock in the morning, they agreed to go to
one Scardefield's, at the Red Lion, at Rake, which was not far.
Here Carter and Jackson got admittance, after many refusals.
While Scardefield went to draw liquor, be heard more company
come in; but though they refused to admit him into the room, he
saw one man standing up very bloody, and another lying as dead.
They said they had engaged some officers, lost their tea, and
several of them were wounded, if not killed.

Jackson and Little Harry now carried Chater down to one
Old Mill's, which was not far off, and chained him in a turf-house,
and Little Harry staying to watch him, Jackson returned again to
the company. -- After they had drank gin and rum they all went
out, taking Galley with them; Carter compelled Scardefield to
shew them the place where they used to bury their tea, and to lend
them spades and a candle and lantern: there they began to dig, and,
it being very cold, he helped to make a hole, where they buried
something that lay across a horse, like a dead man.

They continued at Scardefield's, drinking all that day, and
in the night went to their own homes, in order to be seen on
Tuesday, agreeing to meet again upon Thursday at the same house,
and bring more of their associates. They met accord ingly, and
brought old Richard Mills, and his sons Richard and John, Tho.
Stringer, John Cobby, Benj. Tapner, and John Hammond, who,
with the former, made fourteen. They consulted now what was to
be done with Chater; it was unanimously agreed that he must be
destroyed. R. Mills, jun. proposed to load a gun, clap the muzzle to
his head, tie a long string to the trigger, then all to pull it, that all
might be equally guilty of his murder. This was rejected, because it
would put him out of his pain too soon; and at length they came to
a resolution to carry him up to Harris's Well, which was not far off,
and throw him in.

All this while, Chater was in the utmost horror and misery,
being visited by one or other of them, who abused him both with
words and blows. At last they all came, and Tapner and Cobby
going into the turf-house, the former pulled out a claspknife, and
said, with a great oath, Down on your knees, and go to prayers, for
with this knife I'll be your butcher. The poor man knelt down; and,
as he was at prayers, Cobby kicked him, calling him informing
villain. Chater asking what they had done with Mr Galley, Tapner
slashed his knife across his eyes, almost cutting them out, and the
gristle of his nose quite through: he bore it patiently, believing they
were putting an end to his misery. Tapner struck at him again, and
made a deep cut in his forehead. Upon this, old Mills said, Do not
murder him here, but somewhere else. Accordingly they placed
him upon a horse, and all set out together for Harris's Well, except
Mills and his sons, they having no horses ready, and saying, in
excuse, That they were enough, without them, to murder one man.
All the way, Tapner whipped him till the blood came, and then
swore, that if he blooded the saddle, he would torture him the
more.

When they were come within two hundred yards of the
well, Jackson and Carter stopped, saying to Tapner, Cobby,
Stringer, Steel, and Hammond, Go on and do your duty on Chater,
as we have ours upon Galley. -- In the dead of the night, of the
18th, they brought him to the well, which was near 30 feet deep,
but dry, and paled close round. Tapner, having fastened a noose
round Chater's neck, they bid him get over the pales to the well. He
was going through a broken place; but though he was covered with
blood, and fainting with the anguish of his wounds, they forced
him to climb up, having the rope about his neck, one end of which
being tied to the pales, they pushed him into the well; but the rope
being short, he hung no farther within it than his thighs, and,
leaning against the edge, he hung above a quarter of an hour, and
was not strangled. Then they untied him, and threw him head
foremost into the well. They tarried some time, and hearing him
groan, they concluded to go to one Wm. Comleah's, a gardener, to
borrow a rope and ladder, saying, they wanted to relieve one of
their companions, who had fallen into Harris's Well. He said they
might take them. But they could not manage the ladder, in their
confusion, it being a long one.

They then returned to the well; and still finding him groan,
and fearing that he might be heard, so as to make a discovery, the
place being near the road, they threw upon him some of the rails
and gate-posts fixed about the well, and also some great stones;
when, finding him silent, they left him.

The next consultation was how to dispose of the two
horses. To prevent discovery, they killed Galley's, which was grey,
and took his hide off, cut it into small pieces, and hid them; but a
bay horse, which Chater rode on, got from them.

This daring gang, being now broken, a number of witnesses
came forward on their trial, and two of their accomplices being
pardoned, were admitted evidence against them. The charge, in all
its horrors, was fully proved; whereupon the judge, Sir Michael
Foster, pronounced sentence on the convicts, in one of the most
pathetic addresses that was ever heard; repre senting the enormity
of the crime, and exhorting them to make immediate preparation
for the awful fate that awaited them; adding, that "Christian charity
obliges me to tell you, that your time in this world will be very
short."

The heinousness of the crime, of which these men had been
convicted, rendering it necessary that their punishment should be
exemplary, the judge ordered that they should be executed on the
following day; and the sentence was accordingly carried into
execution against all but Jackson, who died in prison on the
evening that he was condemned. They were attended by two
ministers, and all, but Mills and his son (who took no notice of
each other, and thought themselves not guilty, be cause they were
not present at the finishing of the inhuman murder), shewed great
marks of penitence. Tapner and Carter gave good advice to the
spectators, and desired dillgence might be used to apprehend
Richards, whom they charged as the cause of their being brought to
this wretched end. Young Mills smiled several times at the
executioner, who was a discharged marine, and having ropes too
short for some of them was puzzled to fit them. Old Mills being
forced to stand tip toe to reach the halter, desired that he might not
be hanged by inches. The Mills's were so rejoiced at being told that
they were not to be hanged in chains after execution, that death
seemed to excite in them no terror; while Jackson was so struck
with horror, at being measured for his irons, that he soon expired.

They were hanged at Chichester, on the 18th of January,
1749, amidst such a concourse of spectators as is seldom seen on
such occasions.

Carter was hung in chains, near Rake, in Sussex; Tapner on
Rook's hill, near Chichester; and Cobby and Hammond at Cesley
Isle, on the beach where they sometimes landed their smuggled
goods, and where they could be seen at a great distance, east and
west.



USHER GAHAGAN AND TERENCE CONNER
Erudite Men, who were executed for High Treason, in diminishing
the Current Coin of the Realm, 28th of February , 1749

USHER GAHAGAN and Terence Conner were natives of
Ireland. The former received his education in Trinity College,
Dublin, and was intended for the honourable profession of the law,
in which several of his relations had become eminent.

He had been instructed by his parents in the Protestant 
religion, but falling into company with some priests of the Romish
persuasion they converted him to their faith, which was a principal
obstacle to his future advancement ,in life; for as no gentleman can
be admitted a counsellor-at-law without taking the Oaths of
Supremacy and Faith prevented his complying with these terms, he
declined any further prosecution of his legal studies.

His parents and other relations were greatly offended with
his conduct; and those who had particularly engaged themselves
for the advancement of his fortune forbade him to visit them,
through indignation at the impropriety of his behaviour.

Thus reduced to an incapacity of supporting himself, he
sought to relieve his circumstances by a matrimonial scheme; and
having addressed the daughter of a gentleman, he obtained her in
marriage, and received a good fortune with her; but, treating her
with undeserved severity, she was compelled to return to the
protection of her relations.

His conduct having now rendered him obnoxious to his
acquaintances in Dublin, he quitted that city, and repaired to
London, with a view to supporting himself by his literary abilities.

On his arrival in the metropolis he made some connections
with the booksellers, and undertook to translate Pope's Essay on
Man into Latin; but, becoming connected with some women of
abandoned character, he spent his time in a dissipated manner, and
thus threw himself out of that employment which might have
afforded him a decent support.

He now made an acquaintance with an Irishman, named
Hugh Coffey, and they agreed on a plan for the diminution of the
current coin. At this time Gahagan had a lodger named Conner,
and, it being agreed to receive him as a partner in this iniquitous
scheme, they procured proper tools. Having collected a sum of
money, they filed it and put it off; and procuring more, filed that
also and passed it in the same manner.

Having continued this business some months, during which
they had saved a sum of money, they went to the bank, and got
some Portugal pieces, under pretence that they were intended for
exportation to Ireland. Thus they got money repeatedly at the bank;
but at length one of the tellers, suspecting their business,
communicated his suspicion to the governors, who directed him to
drink with them, as the proper method to discover who they were
and what was their employment.

In pursuance of this order he, on their next appearance,
invited them to drink a glass of wine at the Crown Tavern, near
Cripplegate; to which they readily agreed, and met him after the
hours of office.

When the circulation of the glass had sufficiently warmed
them, Gahagan, with a degree of weakness that is altogether
astonishing, informed the teller that he acquired considerable sums
by filing gold, and even proposed that he should become a partner
with them. The gentleman seemed to accede to the proposal, and,
having learned where they lodged, acquainted the cashiers of the
bank with what had passed.

On the following day Coffey was apprehended; but
Gahagan and Conner being suspicious of the danger of their
situation, retired to a public-house called Chalk Farm, a little way
out of the road from London to Hampstead, where they carried
their implements for filing; but Coffey having been admitted an
evidence it was not long before the place of their retreat was
known; on which they were apprehended, and lodged in Newgate.

Terence Conner was a native of Ireland, and had received a
most liberal education. It is recorded of him that he was so
perfectly well read in Roman history as to be able to turn to any
part of it without the assistance of an index. He was, by birth, heir
to a considerable fortune; but, his father dying without a proper
adjustment of his affairs, some intricate lawsuits were the
consequence; so that the whole estate was only sufficient to
discharge the demands of the gentlemen of the long robe.

Conner, being reduced in circumstances, came to London,
and, becoming acquainted with Gahagan and Coffey, was
concerned in diminishing the coin, as above mentioned. On their
trial the evidence of Coffey was positive; and, being supported by
collateral proofs, the jury could not hesitate to find them guilty,
and they received sentence of death. They were hanged on 28th of
February, 1749.


BRIAN SEYMOUR
Executed for murder,  2nd March, 1749


BRIAN SEYMOUR was born at Waterford, in Ireland; and his
father having served in the army many years, and been at length
promoted to the post of a right-hand man, or, in a more military
phrase, made a corporal, the son must also

'Seek for honour even in the cannon's mouth.'

He enlisted in the sixth regiment of foot, and, soon
afterwards embarking for Flanders, had a share in the memorable
battle of Fontenoy.

The rebellion in 1745 occasioned his being sent to England, when
he served under General Wade, who then commanded in
Yorkshire; but, marching thence to Newcastle, Seymour had there
a quarrel with a soldier respecting a woman of ill fame; and, a duel
ensuing, his antagonist was killed: but the troublesome situation of
affairs induced the general to grant Seymour a free pardon, without
a minute scrutiny into his conduct.

Proceeding to Scotland, this man was present at the battle of
Culloden, where he behaved with singular courage; but the
regiment in which he served, having been greatly injured, was
ordered into winter quarters at Edinburgh, where the indulgence of
his irregular passions gave rise to the crime which cost him his life.

At this time it was customary for some of the ministers of the
church of Scotland, who were out of employment, to marry people
at alehouses, in the same manner that the Fleet marriages were
conducted in London. Sometimes people of fortune thought it
prudent to apply to these marriage-brokers; but, as their chief
business lay among the lower ranks of people, they were
deridingly called by the name of 'Buckle the Beggars.'

Most of these marriages were solemnized at public houses in the
Cannongate; and Seymour happening to be present there when a
couple came to be married, and no priest present, be whispered the
landlady, that if she would procure him a suit of black he would
officiate as the parson. The woman, unwilling to lose a customer,
procured the clothes, and Seymour, being dressed in them, went
into the room where the young couple waited, assuming the grave
deportment of a real clergyman.

The lady who was to be married hinting that she did not think he
was a minister, he solemnly averred that he was, and the marriage
took place accordingly.

Before ten o'clock at night Seymour was obliged to return to the
barracks in the Castle; but by this time he was so much intoxicated,
that he was prepared to affront every one he met. When he came to
the Lawnmarket, he ran against a gentleman's servant named
Johnson, who, being irritated, struck Seymour a blow on the face;
on which the latter drew his sword, and stabbed Johnson, so that he
instantly died; when the murderer put up his sword, and proceeded
towards the Castle. A shoemaker, named Young, having observed
what had passed, followed Seymour to the gate of the Castle; but
the clock striking ten at that instant, the drawbridge was pulled up,
so that Young could not be admitted for that night.

On the following morning Young went to the Lord Justice Clerk,
and, informing him of what he knew of the transaction, offered his
assistance in discovering the murderer: on which his lordship
ordered an officer to attend him, and directed the governor to let
him have a sight of all the soldiers.

At ten o'clock the men were drawn up on the parade, and Young, 
walking round the lines, fixed on Seymour as the man who had
committed the murder; whereupon he was delivered up, to abide
the determination of the laws.

On the trial Young positively swore to the identity of the offender;
and other evidence arising to prove that he was the party, he was
capitally convicted, and sentence of death was pronounced against
him.

This offender denied his guilt for some time, and hinted that
Young was perjured; but he afterwards became truly sensible of
the enormity of his crime, and confessed it, with all its aggravating
circumstances. Two clergymen attended him to the place of
execution, to which he walked, dressed in a shroud, and reading a
religious book.

He was executed at Edinburgh on the 2d of March, 1749.



BRIAN SEYMOUR
Executed for murder,  2nd March, 1749


BRIAN SEYMOUR was born at Waterford, in Ireland; and his
father having served in the army many years, and been at length
promoted to the post of a right-hand man, or, in a more military
phrase, made a corporal, the son must also

'Seek for honour even in the cannon's mouth.'

He enlisted in the sixth regiment of foot, and, soon
afterwards embarking for Flanders, had a share in the memorable
battle of Fontenoy.

The rebellion in 1745 occasioned his being sent to England, when
he served under General Wade, who then commanded in
Yorkshire; but, marching thence to Newcastle, Seymour had there
a quarrel with a soldier respecting a woman of ill fame; and, a duel
ensuing, his antagonist was killed: but the troublesome situation of
affairs induced the general to grant Seymour a free pardon, without
a minute scrutiny into his conduct.

Proceeding to Scotland, this man was present at the battle of
Culloden, where he behaved with singular courage; but the
regiment in which he served, having been greatly injured, was
ordered into winter quarters at Edinburgh, where the indulgence of
his irregular passions gave rise to the crime which cost him his life.

At this time it was customary for some of the ministers of the
church of Scotland, who were out of employment, to marry people
at alehouses, in the same manner that the Fleet marriages were
conducted in London. Sometimes people of fortune thought it
prudent to apply to these marriage-brokers; but, as their chief
business lay among the lower ranks of people, they were
deridingly called by the name of 'Buckle the Beggars.'

Most of these marriages were solemnized at public houses in the
Cannongate; and Seymour happening to be present there when a
couple came to be married, and no priest present, be whispered the
landlady, that if she would procure him a suit of black he would
officiate as the parson. The woman, unwilling to lose a customer,
procured the clothes, and Seymour, being dressed in them, went
into the room where the young couple waited, assuming the grave
deportment of a real clergyman.

The lady who was to be married hinting that she did not think he
was a minister, he solemnly averred that he was, and the marriage
took place accordingly.

Before ten o'clock at night Seymour was obliged to return to the
barracks in the Castle; but by this time he was so much intoxicated,
that he was prepared to affront every one he met. When he came to
the Lawnmarket, he ran against a gentleman's servant named
Johnson, who, being irritated, struck Seymour a blow on the face;
on which the latter drew his sword, and stabbed Johnson, so that he
instantly died; when the murderer put up his sword, and proceeded
towards the Castle. A shoemaker, named Young, having observed
what had passed, followed Seymour to the gate of the Castle; but
the clock striking ten at that instant, the drawbridge was pulled up,
so that Young could not be admitted for that night.

On the following morning Young went to the Lord Justice Clerk,
and, informing him of what he knew of the transaction, offered his
assistance in discovering the murderer: on which his lordship
ordered an officer to attend him, and directed the governor to let
him have a sight of all the soldiers.

At ten o'clock the men were drawn up on the parade, and Young, 
walking round the lines, fixed on Seymour as the man who had
committed the murder; whereupon he was delivered up, to abide
the determination of the laws.

On the trial Young positively swore to the identity of the offender;
and other evidence arising to prove that he was the party, he was
capitally convicted, and sentence of death was pronounced against
him.

This offender denied his guilt for some time, and hinted that
Young was perjured; but he afterwards became truly sensible of
the enormity of his crime, and confessed it, with all its aggravating
circumstances. Two clergymen attended him to the place of
execution, to which he walked, dressed in a shroud, and reading a
religious book.

He was executed at Edinburgh on the 2nd of March, 1749.





JOHN COLLINGTON
A Man of extraordinary Violence and Inhumanity. Executed at
Canterbury with his Accomplice, John Stone, for setting fire to a
Barn

IN the history of Collington, we find an uncommon share
of depravity of mind united to cruelly and vice of every
description.

The father of John Collington was Rector of Pluckley, near
Sandwich, in Kent; and the youth was qualified, by a most liberal
education and his great natural talents, to have made a very
respectable figure in life; but his passions were so violent, and his
revenge so implacable, that all who knew him beheld him with
horror. He used to declare that he would be a sincere friend but an
inveterate foe; and even while at school created such dissensions
among the other scholars that he was held in universal contempt,
and was discharged from more schools than one with marks of
ignominy.

At length his father apprenticed him to a grocer, in
Newgate Street, London; but he behaved in such a manner as to
become an object of terror to his fellow-servants. The following
circumstance, trifling as it is, will serve to mark his disposition:
One of the maid-servants desiring him to fetch some mustard, he
went out for that purpose; but calling a coach at the door, he drove
to Cheapside, purchased the mustard, and on his return, paid the
fare out of his master's money in the till. The master, astonished at
his behaviour, demanded the reason of it: when he gave for
answer, that "his parents had not bound him apprentice to be an
errand boy."

On another occasion he asked his master's permission to
visit his relations for a fortnight, and his request was complied
with. When the time of his departure arrived, his master being
absent, he asked his mistress to give him leave to stay three weeks,
to which she consented. But he returned not till the end of five
weeks; and his master enquiring why he had been so long absent,
Collington replied that he had allowed him a fortnight, and his
mistress three weeks, so that he had not out-staid his time. This
duplicity of conduct incensed the master so, that he gave up his
indentures and discharged him. Having served the remainder of his
apprenticeship with a grocer of Maidstone, he opened a shop at
Rye, in Sussex, where he lived for some years; but his temper was
so bad that he fomented perpetual discord among his neighbours.
From this place he went to Charing, in Kent, where he likewise
kept a shop a considerable time; but the same conduct which had
rendered him an object of contempt at Rye made him equally
obnoxious to the inhabitants of this latter place.

Collington had not been long in business before he married
a young lady, with whom he received a considerable fortune, and
by whom he had ten children, four of whom were living at the time
of their father's fatal exit. The conduct of this man towards his wife
and children was the most extravagant that can be imagined. The
six children who died he buried in his own garden, nor would he
permit any of them to be baptized. He frequently beat his children
in a barbarous manner, and when the mother interposed on their
behalf he used to confine her whole nights in a saw-pit.

Being remarkably fond of sporting, his wife, when big with
child, requested that he would procure her a partridge; in
consequence of which he went out, and shot several: but when the
birds were dressed, and ready for the table, one of the children
happening to offend him, he corrected it in so severe a manner, as
to endanger its life; and the mother interposing for the preservation
of the child, he was so enraged that he cut the partridges in pieces,
and threw them to the cats and dogs.

This instance of worse than savage ferocity so affected his
wife, that she fell into fits, and miscarried: but she had not long
been recovered, when on her interposing, in behalf of one of the
children, whom he was treating with severity, he threw her down
stairs, and stamped on her breast, which gave rise to a cancer that
occasioned her death.

Collington's father dying soon after this event, he
succeeded to a good estate at Throwleigh, in Kent, to which place
he removed, and took to the practice of exporting wool contrary to
law; for which he was prosecuted in the Court of Exchequer, and
ordered to pay a large penalty. But he avoided payment by having
previously conveyed his estate to another and then swearing that he
was not worth five pounds.

Notwithstanding the treatment his first wife had received
from him, he soon married a second, by whom he had six children;
and four of these, besides the same number by the former marriage
(as we have mentioned), were living at the time of his death. Being
fond of hunting, his offences against the laws made for the
preservation of game became so numerous that the Dowager
Countess of Rockingham built a cottage, in which she placed one
of her servants as a spy upon his conduct. Collington, incensed by
this circumstance, tempted a poor countryman to set fire to the
cottage; but the man had courage and honesty enough to resist the
temptation. Thereupon Collington took one of his servants, named
Luckhurst, to Faversham, in Kent, at the time of the fair; and on
their way thither told him he would give him half-a-guinea to fire
the said cottage; which the man received, promising to comply.

On the following day, when Luckhurst recollected the
nature of the contract he had been making, his mind was so
disturbed that he went to Collington and offered back the money,
declaring that he would have no share in the transaction.
Collington was so enraged that he threatened to destroy him unless
he kept the money and did as he had agreed; the consequence of
which was, the man fired the cottage at midnight, by which it was
reduced to the ground.

Collington was so neglectful of his children that he would
not buy them necessary apparel, so that they appeared like beggars;
nor would he even pay for their learning to read. The following is a
striking proof of his want of humanity. One of his sons, a boy
twelve years old, having offended him, he confined him in a saw-
pit, where he must have been starved but that he was occasionally
supplied with food by the humanity of the servants; and for this
conduct their brutal master turned them out of the house without
paying what was due to them. This inhuman father then refused to
maintain his son, so that the child absolutely begged his bread in
the neighbourhood; but he had not wandered long in this manner
when Mr Clarke, the churchwarden, received him into his house,
and provided for him till the Quarter Sessions, when he submitted
the case to the consideration of the magistrates.

These gentlemen, having reflected that Mr Collington was
in affluent circumstances, gave directions that the child should be
properly provided for; and issued a warrant for seizing part of the
father's effects to defray the charge. This warrant was executed by
a constable, whom Clarke attended: a circumstance which gave
such offence to Collington that he vowed revenge, and bade Clarke
make his will. After this he hired five fellows to go to Mr Clarke's
house and demand the child, on pretence that he belonged to a
ship; but Mr Clarke, having the magistrates' order for his
proceedings, said he was willing to answer for his conduct before
any Justice of the Peace. No sooner had he thus expressed himself
than they beat him in the most violent degree, and threatened his
instant destruction unless he consented to accompany them. These
threats had such an effect that he mounted a horse behind one of
them, but as they were riding along he jumped off, and ran into the
courtyard of a gentleman whose gate happened to stand open,
while the other parties fired at him; but he escaped unhurt. Here he
remained till the following day, when he went to his own house,
and thence to a magistrate, before whom he swore the peace
against Collington; on which the magistrate granted his warrant for
the apprehension of the offender, who, refusing to give bail for his
good behaviour, was lodged in the jail of Canterbury.

During his confinement he continually threatened
vengeance against Clarke; and to execute his purpose he sent for a
labouring man, named Stone, and the above-mentioned Luckhurst,
and offered them a guinea each, on the condition of their setting
fire to Mr Clarke's barn, in which a considerable quantity of corn
was deposited. The villains, agreeing to this bargain, fired the barn
at midnight, and likewise a number of hayricks, all of which were
destroyed. Mr Clarke, suspecting that Collington was the contriver
of this horrid scheme, made application to a magistrate, who issued
an order that the prisoner should be more closely confined, and that
the jail-keeper should take particular notice of his visitors. This
precaution led to a discovery of the offenders; for on Luckhurst
coming to procure more money of Collington he was taken into
custody, and conducted before a Justice of the Peace, to whom he
confessed the affair; and being admitted an evidence, Stone was
soon taken up as one of the principals.

At the following assizes, held at Maidstone, Collington and
Stone were brought to trial; when the former turned his back on the
Court with an air of such utter contempt that the judge declared he
had never been witness to such a scene of insolence. The prisoners,
being convicted on the fullest evidence, were carried back to
Canterbury, where the debtors commiserated their unhappy
circumstances; but Collington made a jest of his situation, and
swore he did not regard it, as he was certain of obtaining the Royal
mercy.

This hardened villain likewise encouraged Stone to hope
for mercy, as he could get him included in the pardon; but the
event proved how much he was mistaken in his conjecture.

Collington's wife, coming to visit him, was so affected with
grief as to be unable to speak to him for a considerable time; yet he
was so hardened as not to feel for her situation, but bade her not
give herself the least concern, as he was certain of getting a
reprieve, and hoped to live to revenge himself on his enemies, even
if he should be transported.

He frequently expressed himself in the most revengeful
terms against his prosecutor; and appeared, in other respects, so
destitute of all the feelings of humanity that his conduct surprised
everyone who was witness to it. Thus he spent his time without
preparing for the sentence that he was to suffer, still boasting to his
visitors that the rank of life he held as a gentleman would secure
him a reprieve.

Luckhurst, who had been evidence against him, being
apprehended for committing a robbery on the highway, Collington
thought this a fair opportunity to solicit a reprieve, for which
purpose he dispatched an express to the Duke of Newcastle; but
the answer he received was that he must not expect any favour, for
that the gentlemen of the county had exerted their influence that
the law might be permitted to take its course. On being informed
that the warrant for his execution was arrived, his boasted courage
left him for a short time; but recollecting himself he inquired if
Stone was included in the warrant; and being answered in the
affirmative, said he lamented his situation more than his own.
After this he soon recovered his spirits, and still flattered himself
with the hope of being pardoned. The day preceding his execution
he was visited by his wife and several relations, who advised him
to make a serious preparation for his approaching death, and asked
him where he would be buried. This question inflamed all his
passions, so that he swore he would not be hanged; but soon
afterwards, calling for a glass of wine, he drank it, saying: "Let us
eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."

On the following day Collington was conveyed to the place
of execution in a mourning-coach, and Stone in a cart; and both of
them being placed under the gallows, Collington prayed with the
minister, but declined making any speech to the surrounding
multitude.



RICHARD COLEMAN
Who was executed on Kennington Common, in Surrey, 12th of
April, 1749, for a Murder he did not commit1

RICHARD COLEMAN was indicted at the assizes held at
Kingston, in Surrey, in March 1749, for the murder of Sarah
Green, on the 23rd of July preceding; when he was capitally
convicted.

Mr Coleman had received a decent education, and was
clerk to a brewer at the time the affair happened which cost him his
life; and had a wife and several children, who were reduced to
accept the bounty of the parish, in consequence of his conviction.

The murdered person was Sarah Green, who, having been
with some acquaintances to a beanfeast in Kennington Lane,
stayed to a late hour, and on her return towards 	Southwark she
met with three men, who had the appearance of brewers' servants,
two of whom used her in so inhuman a manner as will bear no
description.

Such was the ill-treatment she had received that it was two
o'clock in the morning before she was able to reach her lodgings,
and on the following day was so ill that she informed several
people how she had been treated; on which she was sent to St
Thomas's Hospital.

While in the hospital she declared that the clerk in Taylor's
(then Berry's) brew-house was one of the parties who had treated 
her in such an infamous manner; and it was supposed that Coleman
was the person to whom she alluded.

Two days after the shocking transaction had happened,
Coleman and one Daniel Trotman called at the Queen's Head ale-
house, in Bandy-Leg Walk, when the latter was perfectly sober,
but the former in a state of intoxication. Having called for some
rum-and-water, Coleman was stirring it with a spoon when a
stranger asked him what he had done with the pig -- meaning a pig
that had been lately stolen in the neighbourhood. Coleman,
unconscious of guilt, and conceiving himself affronted by such an
impertinent question, said: "D--n the pig, what is it to me?"

The other, who seems to have had an intention to ensnare
him, asked him if he did not know Kennington Lane. Coleman
answered that he did, and added: "D--n ye, what of that?" The
other then asked him if he knew the woman that had been so
cruelly treated in Kennington Lane. Coleman replied: "Yes," and
again said: "D--n ye, what of that?" The other man asked: "Was
not you one of the parties concerned in that affair?" Coleman, who,
as we have said, was intoxicated, and had no suspicion of design,
replied: "If I had, you dog, what then?" -- and threw at him the
spoon with which he was stirring the liquor. A violent quarrel
ensued; but at length Coleman went away with Trotman.

On the following day, Coleman calling at the Queen'sHead
above mentioned, the landlord informed him how imprudently he
had acted the preceding day. Coleman, who had been too drunk to
remember what had passed, asked if he had offended any person;
on which the landlord informed him of what had happened, but the
other, still conscious of his innocence, paid no regard to what he
said.

On the 29th of August, Daniel Trotman and another man
went before Mr Clarke, a magistrate in the Borough, and charged
Coleman on suspicion of having violently assaulted and cruelly
treated Sarah Green, in the Parsonage Walk, near Newington
Church, in Surrey.

The magistrate, who does not seem to have supposed that
Coleman was guilty, sent for him and hired a man to attend him to
the hospital where the wounded woman lay; and pointing out
Coleman, he asked her if he was one of the persons who had used
her so cruelly. She said she believed he was, but, as she declined to
swear positively to his having any concern in the affair, Justice
Clarke admitted him to bail.

Some time afterwards Coleman was again taken before the
magistrate, when, nothing positively being sworn against him, the
justice would have absolutely discharged him, but Mr Wynne, the
master of the injured girl, requesting that he might once more be
taken to see her, a time was fixed for that purpose, and the justice
took Coleman's word for his appearance.

The accused party came punctually to his time, bringing
with him the landlord of an ale-house where Sarah Green had
drunk on the night of the affair with the three men who really
injured her; and this publican, and other people, declared on oath
that Coleman was not one of the parties.

On the following day Justice Clarke went to the hospital to
take the examination of the woman on oath. Having asked her if
Coleman was one of the men who had injured her, she said she
could not tell, as it was dark at the time; but, Coleman being called
in, an oath was administered to her, when she swore that he was
one of the three men that abused her.

Notwithstanding this oath, the justice, who thought the poor
girl not in her right senses, and was convinced in his own mind of
the innocence of Coleman, permitted him to depart on his promise
of bringing bail the following day to answer the complaint at the
next assizes for Surrey; and he brought his bail, and gave security
accordingly.

Sarah Green dying in the hospital, the coroner's jury sat to
inquire into the cause of her death; and, having found a verdict of
wilful murder against Richard Coleman and two persons then
unknown, a warrant was issued to take Coleman into custody.

Though this man was conscious of his innocence, yet such
were his terrors at the idea of going to prison on such a charge that
he absconded, and secreted himself at Pinner, near Harrow-on-the-
Hill.

King George II. being then at Hanover, a proclamation was
issued by the Lords of the Regency offering a reward of fifty
pounds for the apprehension of the supposed offender; and to this
the parish of St Saviour, Southwark, added a reward of twenty
pounds.

Coleman read the advertisement for his apprehension in the
Gazette, but was still so thoughtless as to conceal himself; though
perhaps an immediate surrender would have been deemed the
strongest testimony of his innocence. However, to assert his
innocence, he caused the following advertisement to be printed in
the newspaper:-- "I, Richard Coleman, seeing myself advertised in
the Gazette as absconding on account of the murder of Sarah
Green, knowing myself not any way culpable, do assert that I have
not absconded from justice; but will willingly and readily appear at
the next assizes, knowing that my innocence will acquit me."

Strict search being made after him, he was apprehended at
Pinner, above mentioned, on the 22nd of November, and lodged in
Newgate, whence he was removed to the New Jail, Southwark, till
the time of the assizes at Kingston, in Surrey; when his conviction
arose principally from the evidence of Trotman and the declaration
of the dying woman.

Some persons positively swore that he was in another place
at the time the fact was committed, but their evidence was not
credited by the jury. After conviction Coleman behaved like one
who was possessed of conscious innocence, and who had no fear
of death for a crime which he had not committed.

He was attended at the place of execution by the Rev. Mr
Wilson, to whom he delivered a paper in which he declared, in the
most solemn and explicit manner, that he was altogether innocent
of the crime alleged against him. He died with great resignation,
lamenting only the distress in which he should leave a wife and
children.

Note: This man's innocence was fully established in 1751,
when James Welsh and Thomas Jones confessed that they
committed the crime. See below.



THOMAS KINGSMILL, FAIRALL AND PERIN
Three of the thirty Smugglers who broke open the Custom-House
at Poole, and were executed at Tyburn, 26th of April, 1749

KINGSMILL was a native of Goudhurst, in Kent, and had
passed some part of his life as a husbandman; but having
associated with the smugglers, he made no scruple of entering into
the most hazardous enterprises, and became so distinguished for
his courageous -- or rather ferocious -- disposition that he was
chosen captain of the gang.

Fairall was a native of Horsendown Green, in Kent, and the
son of poor parents, who were unable either to educate him or to
give him any regular employment by which he might obtain a
livelihood. He began to associate with the smugglers while quite a
boy, and was frequently employed by them to hold their horses;
and when he grew up to man's estate he was admitted as one of the
fraternity. He was so remarkable for his brutal courage that it was
not thought safe to offend him.

Perin was a native of Chichester, in Sussex. Having served
his time to a carpenter, he practised some years as a master, and
was successful in trade; but a stroke of the palsy depriving him of
the use of his right hand he became connected with the smugglers,
on whose behalf he used to sail to the coast of France and purchase
goods, which he brought to England; and in this capacity he proved
very serviceable to the gang.

It is evident that these men must have greatly injured the
revenue and the fair trader, for they had a number of warehouses in
different parts of Sussex for the concealment of their goods, and
kept not less than fifty horses, some of which they sent loaded to
London, and others to the fairs round the country.

Perin, being in France in the year 1747, bought a large
quantity of goods, which he loaded on board a cutter, with a view
to run them on the coast of Sussex; but, as several smuggling
vessels were expected at this juncture, Captain Johnson, who
commanded a cutter in the Government's service, received orders
to sail in search of them.

In consequence thereof he sailed from Poole and took the
smuggling cutter above mentioned on the following day; but Perin
and his accomplices escaped by taking to their boat. Captain
Johnson found the cargo to consist of brandy and tea, to a very
large amount, which he carried safe into the harbour of Poole.

Soon after this transaction, which happened in the month of
September, the whole body of smugglers assembled in Charlton
Park, to consult if there was any possibility of recovering the goods
of which they had thus been deprived. After many schemes had
been proposed, and rejected, Perin recommended that they should
go in a body, armed, and break open the custom-house at Poole;
and, this proposal being acceded to, a paper was drawn up, by way
of bond, that they should support each other; and this was signed
by all the parties.

This agreement, which was filled with dreadful curses on
each other in case of failure to execute it, was signed on the 6th of
October. Having provided themselves with swords and fire-arms
they met on the following day; and, having concealed themselves
in a wood till the evening they proceeded towards Poole, where
they arrived about eleven at night.

Having forced the door of the custom-house open, with
hatchets and other instruments, they carried off the smuggled
goods, with which they loaded their horses; and, travelling all
night, stopped in the morning at Fording's Bridge.

The smugglers numbered thirty, and their horses thirty-one.
Continuing their journey to a place named Brook, they divided the
booty into equal shares, and then departed, each to his own house.

This daring transaction being represented to the Secretaries
of State, King George II gave orders for issuing a proclamation,
with a reward for the apprehension of the offenders. At length two
of the smugglers gave intelligence of the usual place of meeting of
the others, in consequence of which Fairall, Kingsmill, Perin, and
another, named Glover, were taken into custody, and conducted to
Newgate. They were brought to trial, were capitally convicted, and
received sentence of death; but the jury recommended Glover as an
object of the Royal clemency.

On the following day Perin was carried to the place of
execution in a mourning-coach; the two others in a cart with a
guard of Horse and Foot Guards. The behaviour of Fairall and
Kingsmill was remarkably undaunted; but all of them joined in
devotion with the ordinary of Newgate when they came to the fatal
tree. The bodies of Kingsmill and Fairall were hung in chains in
the county of Kent.

SAMUEL COUCHMAN AND JOHN MORGAN, LIEUTENANTS OF MARINES, THOMAS KNIGHT,
CARPENTER, AND OTHERS
Part of the Crew of His Majesty's Ship Chesterfield, shot at
Portsmouth, for mutiny, July 14, 1749.

 THE Chesterfield man of war, under the command of Captain O'Brian
Dudley, was stationed off Cape-Coast Castle, on the coast of Africa,
when a dangerous mutiny broke out among the crew, of whom the above-
named officers were the leaders. They were charged with "exciting and
encouraging mutiny, and running away with his Majesty's ship
Chesterfield, on the 10th day of October, 1748, from the coast of
Africa, leaving their captain, two lieutenants, with other officers,
and some seamen, on shore."

 Hereupon a court-martial, was held on board his Majesty's ship
Invincible, of which Sir Edward Hawke, of glorious memory, was
president.

 The first evidence called in support of the prosecution was Mr.
Gasterin, the late boatswain of the Chesterfield, who deposed that, on
the 15th of October, 1748, Captain Dudley, being then on shore at Cape-
Coast Castle, sent off his barge to Mr. Couchman, ordering him to send
the cutter on shore, with the boatswain of the ship, to see the tents
struck on shore, and to bring every thing belonging to the ship on
board that night; but Couchman directly ordered the barge to be hoisted
in, and the boatswain to turn all the hands to the quarterdeck, where
Mr. Couchman, coming, from his cabin with a drawn sword, said, "Here I
am: G--d d--n me, I will stand by you while I have a drop of blood in
my body!" He was accompanied by John Morgan, the lieutenant of marines;
Thomas Knight, the carpenter; his mate, John Place, (a principal
actor); and about 30 seamen with cutlasses. They then gave three
huzzas, and threw their hats overboard; damning old hats, they would
soon get new.

 Couchman then sent for the boatswain to know if he would stand by
him, and go with him; he replied, No; and said, "For God's sake, Sir,
be ruled by reason, and consider what you are about." Couchman then
threatened to put him in irons if he did not join with him, but the
boatswain told him he never would [join] in such piratical designs; he
was then ordered into custody, and two sentinels put over him. Couchman
soon after sent for Gilham, the mate of the ship, and made the same
speech to him, who desired to know where he was bound; and upon what
account? He replied, "To take burn, and sink, and settle a colony in
the East Indies."  There were five or six more put into custody with
the boatswain in the same place, and were confined only five or six
hours, for, in the middle of the night, after their confinement,
Couchman sent for them into the great cabin, and desired them to sit
and drink punch, and then dismissed them.

 The next day the boatswain was invited to dinner by the new
commander, who began to rail against Captain Dudley, and asked him and
one of the mates what they thought of the affair: the boatswain
replied, he thought it rank piracy; on which Couchman said, "What I
have done I cannot now go from: I was forced to it by the ship's-
company." The boatswain then told him "that would be no sanction for
his running away with the king's ship." The carpenter and lieutenant
then proposed their signing a paper, to which the boatswain replied he
never would, and would sooner suffer death: the mate said the same.
When the boatswain came out of the great cabin, he went to the gunner's
cabin, who was then sick, and unable to come out of it, but was of
great use, by his prudent advice and assistance; for, after the
boatswain had told him that Couchman's party had taken possession of
all the arms, he said that he could furnish him with twenty pistols. By
this time Mr. Fraser and Mr. Gilham, mates of the ship, the gunner's
mate and yeoman, and the cockswain of the barge, were come to them,
when the boatswain communicated his design of recovering the ship that
very night. To this they all agreed with the greatest resolution.

 It began then to be very dark, being 10 P.M. when the boatswain
went to sound the ship's company, and on the forecastle there were
about 30 men: he then in a plain but prudent manner disclosed the
secret, and soon convinced them both of the facility and necessity of
putting his scheme immediately in practice: accordingly, the first step
was to get up all the irons or bilboes on the forecastle; he then sent
for the 20 pistols, which were all loaded: he next ordered three men
upon the grand magazine, and two to that abaft; and the remainder, who
had no pistols, to stay by the bilboes, and secure as many prisoners as
he should send. This disposition being made, he went directly down on
the deck, where he divided his small company into two parties; and, one
going down the main, the other the fore hatchway, they soon secured
eleven or twelve of the ringleaders, and sent them up to the forecastle
without the least noise. The two parties then joined, and went directly
to the great cabin, where they secured Couchman, and the lieutenant of
marines, with the carpenter, whom they immediately confined in
different parts on board.

 Thus was the ship bravely rescued by the intrepidity and prudence
of a few honest men, after she had been about thirty hours in the
possession of a poor unhappy man, who appears to have been utterly
unfit for so daring an enterprise, and in his unfortunate condition
very penitent.

 The boatswain (Roger Winket) was afterwards rewarded with three
hundred pounds a year, as master-attendant of Woolwich yard.

 John Place was charged with being very active in the mutiny. The
gunner deposed that the said Place came to him as he lay sick in his
cabin, with a drawn cutlass and a cocked pistol, and swore that he
would murder him if he did not deliver to him the key of the magazine.
He made no defence, but submitted to the mercy of the court.

 John Place, after sentence, wrote letters of religious
exhortation to his brothers in affliction. His letter to Mr. Couchman
upbraids him with having been the murderer of those who were condemned
with him, by first seducing them from their duty -- exhorts him not to
attempt to screen himself by imputing his guilt to others -- and
concludes, "I freely forgive you, though you are the cause of my death,
as you know full well: and I would have you act with a becoming
resignation to the will of God; and not, by mean hopes of life, lose an
opportunity to secure a blessed eternity. -- Despise life (as I do,
with God's assistance), and die like a man."

ANSWER.
"Mr. PLACE,
"You will die like a villain ! -- S..Couchman."

 The Court found the following guilty, who were executed in manner
hereafter mentioned: --
On the 14th of July,
Samuel Couchman, first lieutenant of marines, 
Shot.
July 14,
John Morgan, second lieutenant of marines;
Shot.
July 24,
Thomas Knight, carpenter.
John Place, carpenter's mate.
John Meeks, seaman.
William Anderson, seaman.
John Reed, quarter-master.
Thomas Scott, seaman.
Hanged.

 Captain Dudley was tried for "neglect of duty, in keeping a
number of his officers on shore, at Cape-Coast Castle, when the ship
was seized," and acquitted.

 Others of the ship's company, also tried for mutiny, were
acquitted.

 On the 26th of June, 1749, James Colvin, late boatswain's mate on
board the Richmond man of war, was hanged at Portsmouth, for mutiny.


JOHN MILLS
His Father and Brother were hanged, and he suffered a similar
Fate on Slendon Common, Sussex, 12th of August, 1749
THIS monster was another son of Richard Mills, who was
executed for murder. He was concerned in the murder of the
custom-house officers, but escaped for a time the slow but unerring
hand of justice. He was also one of that gang of villains who most
daringly broke open the custom-house at Poole; and yet was he
reserved to make atonement for a fresh murder, equally as cruel as
that with which his father and brothers had imbrued their hands.

John Mills and some associates, travelling over Hindheath,
saw the judges on their road to Chichester to try the murderers of
Chater and Galley; on which young Mills proposed to rob them;
but the other parties refused to have any concern in such an affair.
Soon after his father, brother and their accomplices were hanged,
Mills thought of going to Bristol, with a view to embarking for
France; and having hinted his intentions to some others they
resolved to accompany him, and stopping at a house on the road
they met with one Richard Hawkins, whom they asked to go with
them; and when the poor fellow hesitated, they put him on
horseback behind Mills, and carried him to the Dog and Partridge,
on Slendon Common, which was kept by John Reynolds.

They had not been long in the house when complaint was
made that two bags of tea had been stolen, and Hawkins was
charged with the robbery. He steadily denied any knowledge of the
affair; but this not satisfying the villains, they obliged him to pull
off his clothes; and, having likewise stripped themselves, they
began to whip him with the most unrelenting barbarity; and Curtis,
one of the gang, said he did know of the robbery, and if he would
not confess he would whip him till he did; for he had whipped
many a rogue, and washed his hands in his blood. These
bloodthirsty villains continued whipping the poor wretch till their
breath was almost exhausted; while he begged them to spare his
life, on account of his wife and child. Hawkins drawing up his legs
to defend himself in some measure from their blows, they kicked
him on the groin in a manner too shocking to be described,
continually asking him what was become of the tea. At length the
unfortunate man mentioned something of his father and brother; on
which Mills and one Curtis said they would go and fetch them; but
Hawkins expired soon after they had left the house.

Rowland, one of the accomplices, now locked the door;
and, putting the key in his pocket, he and Thomas Winter (who
was afterwards admitted evidence) went out to meet Curtis and
Mills, whom they saw riding up a lane leading from an adjacent
village, having each a man behind him. Winter desiring to speak
with his companions, the other men stood at a distance while he 
asked Curtis what he meant to do with them, and he said to
confront them with Hawkins. Winter now said that Hawkins was
dead, and begged that no more mischief might be done; but Curtis
replied: "By G--! we will go through it now." But at length they
permitted them to go home, saying that when they were wanted
they should be sent for.

The murderers now coming back to the public-house,
Reynolds said, "You have ruined me"; but Curtis replied that he
would make him amends. Having consulted how they should
dispose of the body, it was proposed to throw it into a well in an
adjacent park; but this being objected to, they carried it twelve
miles, and having tied stones to it, in order to sink it, they threw it
into a pond in Parham Park, belonging to Sir Cecil Bishop; and in
this place it lay more than two months before it was discovered.

This horrid and unprovoked murder gave rise to a Royal
proclamation, in which a pardon was offered to any persons, even
outlawed smugglers -- except those who had been guilty of
murder, or concerned in breaking open the custom-house at Poole -
- on condition of discovering the persons who had murdered
Hawkins, particularly Mills, who was charged with having had a
concern in this horrid transaction. Thereupon William Pring, an
outlawed smuggler, who had not had any share in either of the
crimes excepted in the proclamation, went to the Secretary of State
and informed him that he would find Mills if he could be assured
of his own pardon; and added that he believed he was either at
Bath or Bristol. Being assured that he need not doubt of the
pardon, he set out for Bristol, where he found Mills, and with him
Thomas and Lawrence Kemp, brothers, the former of whom had
broken out of Newgate, and the other was outlawed by
proclamation. Having consulted on their desperate circumstances,
Pring offered them a retreat at his house near Beckenham, in Kent,
whence they might make excursions and commit robberies on the
highway.

Pleased with this proposal, they set out with Pring, and
arrived in safety at his house, where they had not been long before
he pretended that, his horse being an indifferent one, and theirs
remarkably good, he would go and procure another, and then they
would proceed on the intended expeditions. Thus saying, he set
out, and they agreed to wait for his return; but instead of going to
procure a horse he went to the house of Mr Rackster, an officer of
the excise at Horsham, who, taking with him seven or eight armed
men, went to Beckenham at night, where they found Mills and the
two brothers Kemp just going to supper on a breast of veal. They
immediately secured the brothers, by tying their arms; but Mills,
making resistance, was cut with a hanger before he would submit.
The offenders were conducted to the county jail for Sussex, and,
being secured till the assizes, were removed to East Grinstead,
where the brothers Kemp were tried for highway robberies,
convicted, sentenced and executed.

Mills, being tried for the murder of Hawkins, was capitally
convicted, and received sentence of death, and to be hanged in
chains near the place where the murder was committed.

After conviction he mentioned several robberies in which
he had been concerned, but refused to tell the names of any of his
accomplices, declaring that he thought he should merit damnation
if he made any discoveries by means of which any of his
companions might be apprehended and convicted.

The country being at that time filled with smugglers, a
rescue was feared; wherefore he was conducted to the place of
execution by a guard of soldiers; and when there prayed with a
clergyman, confessed that he had led a bad life, acknowledged the
murder of Hawkins, desired that all young people would take
warning by his untimely end, humbly implored the forgiveness of
God, and professed to die in charity with all mankind.

After execution he was hanged in chains on Slendon
Common.

wicked lie with which the breath fled.

 Some malefactors will have been found, affecting to brave the
terrors of death merely, to gratify the few moments of life left, in
exultation of the unnatural reflection of having boldly launched
themselves into eternity, and that succeeding felons might hereafter
say (to use a Newgate phrase) "he died game!"

 Of the very worst description of hardened villains was that whose
crimes we are about to bring to view -- a wretch callous to hope and
fear, and who died mocking his God, and cursing his fellow-creatures!

 The proclamation of peace occasioning the discharge of many
seamen, Neale was paid off, and bringing his wages to London, he soon
wasted his money in the most dissipated manner, and in the worst of
company; and then had recourse to the dangerous practices of a footpad
robber.

 On a particular occasion he stole a tankard from an inn in
Hertfordshire, for which he was apprehended, and lodged in the county
gaol, and, being tried at the next assizes, was capitally convicted;
but obtained a pardon, on the condition of transporting himself for
seven years, through the interest of the late duke of Cumberland.

 Having given bail thus to transport himself, he entertained no
thought of fulfilling the contract; but, immediately associating with
Bowen and other villains, they committed a variety of robberies in the
vicinity of London.

 William Bowen was a native of Londonderry, in Ireland. His
parents, who kept an inn, and lived respectably, proposed that he
should succeed them in their business; but an attachment to bad company
led him astray from the paths of duty.

 His father dying just before he came of age, left him the inn, on
the condition of his supporting his mother, a brother, and two young
sisters: but the young man, deaf to every prudent consideration,
associated with people whose circumstances were much superior to his
own, to the neglect of that business which would have supported the
family.

 Aware of the decay of his trade, and the consequent ruin that
stared him in the face, he came over to London with all the cash he
could secure, and fell in company with people who assisted him to spend
his money; and, when that was gone, he entered on board a ship as a
common sailor.

 The seamen having received their wages, Bowen got into company
with his old associates and some women of ill fame, with whom he spent
his last shilling, and then had recourse for support to the
perpetration of robberies in the neighbourhood of London, particularly
near Stepney and Mile-End.

 One of Bowen's companions being apprehended for picking pockets,
he and others joined to rescue him, as the peace-officers were
conveying him to Newgate in a coach.

 The public being alarmed by this daring rescue, Bowen did not
think it safe to stay in London; and having heard that his brother,
then a seaman, was at Liverpool, he went thither in search of him: but,
on his arrival, he learnt that, having received a large sum as prize-
money, he had sailed, to see his friends in Ireland.

 Bowen immediately wrote to Londonderry; but, not having a letter
in return, he came to the metropolis in the most distressed
circumstances; when, going to a house where he had formerly lodged, he
was informed that Neale had been to inquire for him; and on the
following day Neale came to see him, in company with a man named.
Vincent.

 After drinking together, Neale said to Bowen, "Come and take a
ride with me." Bowen said he had no money, but the other told him that
would soon be procured. On this Neale went out to borrow him a pair of
boots; while Bowen went with Vincent to his lodgings, where the latter
gave him a hanger and a pair of pistols, which Bowen concealed under a
great coat; and then all the parties met at an alehouse in Southwark,
whence they went to an inn, and hired horses, on the pretence of going
to Gravesend; instead of which they went towards Kingston, where
Vincent had a relation who belonged to the Oxford Blues.

 In their way they purchased a whip for Bowen, and loaded their
pistols. On their arrival at Kingston they went to a public-house, and,
sending for Vincent's kinsman, they all dined together, and drank
themselves into a state of perfect intoxication.

 Having paid their reckoning, they mounted their horses,
determined on the commission of robbery; and, meeting a gentleman named
Ryley, Bowen pulled him from his horse, and in the same instant quitted
his own. Mr. Ryley ran off; but Bowen following him, threw him down,
and, kneeling on his breast, the other entreated that he would not hurt
him. Bowen threatened his instant destruction if he did not quietly
submit; and, having robbed him of his watch and money, bade him run
after his horse, which had quitted the place on Neale's whipping him;
and, in the interim, Vincent watched, lest any person should come up to
interrupt him.

 The highwaymen now rode towards London, and when they, came near
Wandsworth determined to go to Fulham, and thence to town by the way of
Hyde-park Corner. Having divided the booty (except a thirty-six
shilling piece, which Bowen secreted) at the Greyhound inn, near
Piccadilly, they supped and slept at that house.

 In the morning they told the landlord that they wanted to go
towards Highgate, but were not well acquainted with the road. As they
had been good customers, the landlord begged to treat them with half a
pint of rum; and then went a little way with them to show them the
nearest road.

 Having arrived at Highgate, they drank at that place, and then
determined to proceed to Barnet, at which place they put up their
horses, and called for rum and water, of which they swallowed such
quantities that Vincent and Bowen fell fast asleep.

 In the mean time Neale endeavoured to secrete a silver pint mug;
but, being detected in the attempt, he was taken before a magistrate,
and loaded pistols being found on him, orders were given that his
companions should likewise be taken into custody, and all of them were
lodged in the county gaol.

 At the, next assizes an order was made for their discharge (as
nothing appeared against them), on their giving security for their good
behaviour. For this purpose they wrote to London to procure bail; but
Mr. Ryley, hearing that three men of doubtful character were in the
gaol of Hertford, went thither, and immediately knew that they were the
parties by whom he had been robbed. Hereupon a detainer was lodged
against them, and, they were removed for trial at the Surrey assizes,
previous to the holding of which Vincent was admitted an evidence fore
the crown. His testimony corroborating that of Mr. Ryley, Neale and
Bowen were found guilty, and sentenced to die.

 Being lodged in the New Gaol, Southwark, Bowen was taken ill, and
continued so till the time of his execution, He behaved with some
degree of resignation to his fate; but was violent in his exclamations
against Vincent, on account of his turning evidence.

 Neale evinced no concern on account of his unhappy situation; but
behaved in a manner more hardened than language can express. At the
place of execution he paid no regard to the devotions, but laughed at
the populace while he played with the rope which was to put a period to
his life, After the cap was drawn over his face, he put it up again,
and addressed the people in the following shocking terms: -- "I shall
very soon see my Lord Balmerino. He was a very good friend of mine; so
that is what I had to say, and d--n you all together." He then drew the
cap over his eyes, and was launched into eternity.

Henceforth let honour's path be trod,
Nor villains seek in vain
To mock the sacred laws of God,
And give their neighbours pain."


BENJAMIN NEALE
Executed at Surrey, August 12, 1749, for burglary.

 HOUSE-BREAKING is a desperate species of robbery. Those who
engage in it may be fitly compared to Satan, who, in an inauspicious
hour, broke into the garden of Eden, stripped our first parents of
their innocence, and filled the world with violence and rapine. Thieves
and robbers are of their father the devil, and the work of their father
they will do; but all such enjoy short and unsatisfying pleasure, to
which long woe frequently succeeds: and, in the mean time, while such
persons are carrying on  their depredations on the public, they cannot
but at times, unless entirely hardened, be subject to the stings of an
accusing conscience, which severely condemns the guilty. The terrors of
an agonizing conscience have, in many instances, been so intolerable,
that the atrocious offender, unable to support the violence of divine
wrath, has often laid violent hands on himself; but this desperate
expedient will prove at length, to all such, only the beginning of
sorrows in the world to come.

 Benjamin Neale was a hardened sinner,. whose fate exhibits a
melancholy instance of the danger of mixing in dissolute company. He
was the son of an apothecary and surgeon at Extel, in Warwickshire,
who, having, many children to provide for, apprenticed Benjamin to a
baker in a large business, at Coventry.

 During his apprenticeship his conduct was very reprehensible, for
he would frequently stay out whole nights, and return to his master's
house in the morning in a state of intoxication.

 With some difficulty he served to the end of his time, when
several of the inhabitants of Coventry recommended it to his father to
put him into business, and promised to deal with him; and the father
enabled him to begin the world in a creditable manner. For a
considerable time he had such success in business, that he became the
principal baker in the place; and he married the daughter of one of the
aldermen, with whom he received a good fortune, and would soon have
been a rich man if he had paid a proper attention to his business:
however, it was not long after he received his wife's fortune before he
began to give himself such airs of consequence as rendered him
disagreeable to his wife, and made the servants look on him as a
perfect tyrant.

 To this behaviour succeeded a neglect of his business, which
visibly declined, while he frequented cock-pits and horse-races, it was
in vain that his father and his wife remonstrated on the impropriety of
this conduct, and represented its inconsistence with the life of a
tradesman: he continued his courses till his character was lost, and he
was reduced to labour as a journeyman baker.

 Unable to submit with decency to a fate which he had brought on
himself, he wandered about the country, picking up a casual and
doubtful subsistence. Returning one night to Coventry, he found his
mother, his wife, and child, in company. He demanded money, but they
refusing to supply him, he threatened to murder them, and was
proceeding to put his threats into execution, when their cries alarmed
the neighbours, and prevented the perpetration of the deed; but this
affair had such an effect on his wife that she was seized with a fever,
which soon put a period to her life.

 This disaster did not seem to make any impression on his mind,
for, travelling soon after into Staffordshire, he married a second
wife; but, returning to Coventry, he privately sold off his effects,
and left the poor woman in circumstances of great distress.

 It was not long after this before he commenced highwayman, and
committed a variety of robberies on different roads, and at length
became a house-breaker, which brought him to a fatal end.

 At Farnham, in Surrey, lived a gentleman of fortune, named
Newton, at whose house Neale thought he might acquire a considerable
booty, and, in pursuance of this plan, he broke into the house at four
o'clock in the morning, and, forcing open a bureau, he stole several
bank-notes, an East-India bond, between fifty and sixty pounds in
money, some medals of gold, and several valuable articles.

 Mr. Newton no sooner discovered the robbery than he sent off a
messenger, with a letter to his brother in London, requesting that he
would advertise the loss, and stop payment of the notes. When Neale had
committed the robbery, he likewise proceeded towards London, and, when
he came to Brentford, offered some water-men three shillings and
sixpence to row him to town; but this they refused, and Neale had no
sooner got into another boat which was putting from the shore, than the
messenger arrived at Brentford; and the watermen, having entertained a
suspicion of Neale, asked the man if he was in pursuit of a thief, and,
he replying in the affirmative, they pointed to the boat in which Neale
was sitting.

 On this the messenger hired another boat, and having overtaken
him, found him wrapped up in a waterman's coat. The criminal being
conducted before a magistrate, the stolen effects were found in his
possession: on which he was ordered for commitment, and conveyed to
Newgate the same day.

 When the assizes for Surrey began, he was sent to Guildford,
where he was capitally convicted, and sentenced to die. After
conviction his behaviour was such as might have been expected from one
who was too hardened to repent of crimes which he could not hesitate to
commit. His conduct was so totally improper for his situation, that
even the keepers of the gaol seemed to be shocked at his want of
feeling, and advised him to amend his manners: but their advice was
lost on one of the most abandoned of the human race.

 [Note: We could wish to caution housekeepers to look every
evening about their houses, and particularly in their bedchambers, for
lurking thieves, who often steal in unobserved about twilight, and lie
concealed until they find an opportunity of plundering, and perhaps
murdering, the family in their sleep. The following anecdote, among
many similar circumstances which we have met with, may serve to
strengthen our admonition: Mrs. Lewis, who kept a public-house at
Hilsea, near Portsmouth, was alarmed, on going to bed, by observing the
feet of a man below the window curtain; at the same moment her young
child, who slept with her, cried for beer, and, with a happy presence
of mind, she answered, that she would go down stairs, and bring it
drink. This fortunate pretence afforded her an opportunity of alarming
her neighbours, who entered the house, and seized the villain, with a
razor in his hand, with which he most likely meant to have cut her
throat. It is remarkable that this woman's husband was, a few years
before, shot by a robber of the name of Williams, who was executed for
the murder, and his body at the time hanging in chains on South-sea
common, adjoining Portsmouth.]


HUGH DAWSON and JOHN GAMMELL
Executed on Kennington-common, August 22, 1749.

 THE repeated comments we have made on the effects of idleness,
extravagance, and drunkenness, in bringing such numbers to the gallows,
would render repetition tedious and unnecessary. For this reason we
pass over many cases without observation; but there are crimes
resulting from some of those vices, without any particular
circumstances arising in the short career of villainy to an untimely
fate.

 If this description of criminals are those we are now about to
bring forward; yet in the character of Dawson there is a wicked attempt
to brave his fall, but which the more immediate approach of death
happily turned to the fear of God.

 Dawson was an Irishman, and born of respectable parents, his
father having been a bookseller in Londonderry. Gammell was a
Scotchman, of Greenock, and both were lazy worthless fellows.

 The father of Dawson, finding his son would settle to no business
in his own country, sent him to sea. After the first voyage he remained
some time at home, and did not seem to entertain any further thoughts
of going to sea; but, falling in love with a young woman in the
neighbourhood, she promised him marriage, but advised him to follow his
former occupation some time longer.

 In consequence of this advice he went again to sea, and on his
return from each voyage visited his favourite girl; but at length it
was discovered by her parents that she was pregnant by her lover.
Alarmed by this circumstance, they proposed to Dawson's father to give
him a fortune proportioned to what they would bestow on their girl; but
this the old man obstinately refused, though the son earnestly
entreated him to accede to the proposal.

 Hereupon young Dawson left his parents, swore he would never
again return home, and went once more to sea. Having made some voyages,
the vessel in which he sailed put into the harbour of Sandwich; on
which Dawson quitted a sea-faring life, and married a girl of fortune,
who bore him two children, which were left to the care of her relations
at her death which happened six years after the marriage.

 On this event Dawson went again to sea, and was in several naval
engagements. When his ship was paid off he went to Bristol, where he
was arrested for a debt he had contracted. At this period he heard of
the death of his father, and that his mother's affection for him was in
no degree diminished; on which he wrote her an account of his
situation; and she sent him fifty pounds, which relieved him from his
embarrassments.

 Having procured his liberty, he went to London, and marrying the
widow of a seaman, who possessed some money, they lived in harmony a
considerable time, till, making a connexion with dissolute companions,
he commenced the practices which led to his ruin.

 Gammell, who had been a ship-mate with Dawson, was one of these
companions, add, being now out of employment, advised him to go on the
highway. He hesitated for some time; but, having drank freely, his
resolution failed him, and he agreed to the fatal proposal.

 These accomplices dressed themselves as sailors, and, concealing
bludgeons under their jackets, knocked down the persons they intended
to rob, and stripped them of their effects.

 The robbery which cost them their lives was committed near New-
cross turnpike, on a gentleman named Outridge, from whom they took his
money, and watch, and treated him with great barbarity. Being pursued
by some people whom Mr. Outridge informed of the robbery, Dawson was
overtaken and confined; and, having given information where Gammell
lodged, he likewise was apprehended; and both of them being conveyed to
the New Gaol, Southwark, they mutually recriminated on each other.

 On the approach of the assizes for Surrey, the prisoners were
carried to Croydon, where they were both tried, and capitally
convicted. After passing sentence, Dawson was visited by a Roman
Catholic priest, who intimated that he had heard he was of the Romish
religion; but the, other said he would die in the Protestant faith, in
which he had been educated: but notwithstanding this declaration, and
his regular attendance on the forms of the Protestant mode, there was
reason to conclude that he was a Catholic, from a paper that was found
in his cell after his death.

 On the night preceding the execution the behaviour of Dawson
evinced the distraction of his mind. He was visited by his wife, who
had been sitting some time with him, when the turnkey came, and
intimated that he must retire; on which he refused to go, and knocked
the fellows down; but, others of the keepers coming, he was secured.
His wife would now have taken a final leave of him; and he said if she
did not depart he would murder her.

 As the keepers were conducting him through the courtyard to his
cell, he called to the other prisoners, saying, Holla! my boys! Dawson
is to be hanged to-morrow."

 The prisoners were conveyed to the place of execution in the same
cart; and, when there, Dawson expressed his hope of salvation through
the merits of Jesus Christ, and declared he died in charity with all
men: Gammell addressed the surrounding multitude, particularly hoping.
that his brother seamen would avoid the commission of such crimes as
led to his deplorable end, He hoped forgiveness from all whom he had
injured, and acknowledged that he fell a victim to the equity of the
laws.



ROBERT COX
Late Captain's Clerk of the Royal George Man-of-War. Executed
at Winchester, 1st of September, 1749, for Forging Seamen's
Tickets

THIS man was tried on several indictments: the first for
stealing a certain obligation, called "a seaman's ticket," the
property of Benjamin Berry; the others for forgery in endorsing the
same.

When ships-of-war return from a long foreign station the
crews are generally turned over to others, fit for service; and upon
these occasions each man is delivered a warrant, signed by the
principal officers, under whom he served, and which is called a
seaman's ticket; in fact, it is a negotiable property when endorsed,
like a note of hand or bill of exchange; but, because the men
should not be tempted to sell their tickets under price, instead of
being put into their possession they are sent with them to the
captain of the ship to which they are turned over, and lodged in his
hands till they are ordered to some other ship, and then these
tickets are still sent with them. In this manner, the Glasgow man-
of-war being laid up, part of her crew were turned over to several
ships successively, and at length to the Royal George.

Soon after the peace was agreed upon, these men were of
course discharged, and the tickets put into the hands of their proper
owners; but those of Mr Berry and twelve seamen more were
missing, and no account could be given of them. They immediately
laid the fact before the Lords of the Admiralty, by way of petition,
who wrote to Captain Harrison, to know the reason why the
petitioners were refused their tickets. The Captain answered the
letter, but was unable to give any reason, or to say more than that
they could not be found. Upon which the Lords of the Admiralty
thought fit to mulct the wages due to the men out of Captain
Harrison's pay, who, now feeling most sensibly the case of the
poor sailors, made more immediate inquiry after the lost tickets,
and accordingly advertised for them, with a reward to any person
who should make a discovery.

Mr Cullen, who formerly kept the inn called the India
Arms, at Gosport, deposed that the identical tickets so advertised
were deposited with him by the prisoner, Robert Cox, as security
for twenty guineas, which he had lent him; and that on the
appearance of the advertisement Cox came to him to beg he would
take his bond for the twenty guineas and give him up the tickets.
But the witness refused so to do; telling him if he came honestly by
them he might immediately sell them, and, out of what they
brought, pay him the sum lent; but that if he had not come honestly
by them it was fit the truth should be known. Upon this, the
witness continued, Cox went his way, and the witness hastened to
give information to Captain Harrison.

Upon the trial of the first indictment no proof could be
adduced that the prisoner stole the tickets, and he was accordingly
acquitted; but the second was fatal to him: for it was fully proved
that he forged the name of Berry to the tickets, was found guilty,
and received sentence of death. He suffered at Winchester, in
September, 1749.



BOSAVERN PENLEZ
Executed for rioting, 18th October, 1749


THIS unhappy youth (for he can hardly be deemed a malefactor)
was the son of a native of the island of Jersey, who, having been
educated at Oxford, entered into orders; and, having obtained a
small church preferment, settled near Exeter, where his unfortunate
son was born.

His father dying while he was young, he was placed as an
apprentice to a barber and peruke-maker at Exeter, by the stewards
of the Sons of the Clergy. Having served his apprenticeship with
the highest reputation for good character and sobriety, he came to
London, and lived in several places with the utmost credit, till a
circumstance equally unpremeditated and unforeseen occasioned
his destruction.

On Saturday, the 1st of July, 1749, three seamen belonging to the
Grafton man of war, having called at a house of ill fame in the
Strand, were there robbed of their watches, a bank-note value
twenty pounds, four moidores, and thirty guineas.

The seamen demanded a reparation for their loss; instead of which
some bullies belonging to the house pushed them from the door;
whereupon they went away, denouncing vengeance; and, having
collected a number of their companions in the neighbourhood of
Wapping, they returned at night, broke open the house, turned the
women almost naked into the streets, ripped up the beds, threw the
feathers out of the window, broke the furniture in pieces, and made
a bonfire of it.

Having proceeded to behave in a similar manner at another house
of ill fame, a party of the guards was sent for, and the mob for the
present dispersed.

On the following day. being Sunday, immense numbers of people
crowded to see the ruins of the infamous houses; and on this day
Bosavern Penlez went to the house of Mr. Pearce, in Wych Street,
where be had left some clothes; and, when he had cleaned himself,
he visited an acquaintance named Taylor, with whom he drank at a
public house, dined, and spent the afternoon.

In the evening Penlez walked in Somerset Gardens, and, at eight
o'clock, went back to his friend Taylor, who being engaged with
company, Penlez declined staying, and proceeded to meet an
acquaintance at the Horseshoe, near Temple Bar. Having drank
some beer with him, be was returning to his lodgings, when he
unfortunately met with another acquaintance, who told him it was
his birth-day, and begged he would drink some punch with him.

This request being complied with, Penlez became quite
intoxicated; and, in his way home, found a mob at the door of the
Star tavern, near Temple Bar, endeavouring to destroy what the
seamen had left undemolished. Many of the people got into the
house, and did great damage; and Penlez, with John Wilson and
Benjamin Launder, was taken into custody.

Being brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey, the
witnesses were Peter Wood (the landlord), his wife, and one
Reeves, their servant, who positively swore to the commission of
the facts alleged in the indictment.

To discredit their testimony, Mr. John Mixon, the collector of the
scavenger's rate, deposed that he did not think the oath of Mr. or
Mrs. Wood was to be taken, and that he would not hang a cat or a
dog on their evidence. He added, that the house they kept was of
the most notorious ill fame; that the rates were paid in the name of
Thompson; that Wood and his wife had been often prosecuted for
keeping a disorderly house; and that the neighbours were afraid to
appear against them.

In the course of the trial Wood swore 'that the mob amounted to
about seven hundred people; that eight or ten of them came into his
parlour, among whom were Wilson and Penlez; that they broke the
partition with their sticks, pulled out the pieces with their hands,
destroyed all the furniture in the parlour, and threw it into the
street, broke down his bar, and knocked him down on the stairs;'
with many other circumstances, tending to prove the riot, and that
the prisoners were concerned in it.

Several persons of reputation appeared to the character of the
prisoners; but the positive evidence against them induced the jury
to convict Penlez and Wilson; but Launder was acquitted.

The inhabitants of the parish of St. Clement Panes, and many
individuals, made great interest to save these unfortunate youths, in
consequence of which Wilson was reprieved, but Penlez was
ordered for execution.

It is said that the king was disposed to have pardoned them both;
but that Lord Chief Justice Willes, before whom they were tried,
declared in council that no regard would be paid to the laws except
one of them was made an example of. Our account informs us that
the king still inclined to pardon them both, and that the chief
justice was three times sent for and consulted on this occasion; but
that he still persisted in his former opinion. [It is a well-known fact
that Lord Chief Justice Willes was a steady assertor of the dignity
of the law. It could not be supposed that he could have any
prejudice against the convict; and it must he concluded that his
opinion arose from a regard to the public weal.]

After conviction Penlez behaved in such a manner as evidently
testified the goodness of his disposition, and the little probability
there was of such a man committing a wilful premeditated crime. It
is not in language to describe how much he was pitied by the
public. Every one wished his pardon, and wondered, without
considering the necessity that there was for an example, that he
was not spared.

When the day of execution arrived be prepared to meet his fate
with the consciousness of an innocent man, and the courage of a
Christian. The late Sir Stephen Theodore Janssen, Chamberlain of
London, was at that time sheriff; and a number of soldiers being
placed at Holborn Bars, to conduct Penlez to Tyhurn (as a rescue
was apprehended), the sheriff politely dismissed them, asserting
that the civil power was sufficient to carry the edicts of the law
into effectual execution.

This unhappy youth was executed at Tyburn on the 18th of
October, 1749.

The worthy inhabitants of St. Clement Danes, who had been
among the foremost in soliciting a pardon for Penlez, finding all
their efforts ineffectual, did all possible honour to his memory, by
burying him in a distinguished manner in a churchyard of their
parish, on the evening after his unfortunate exit, which happened in
the twenty-third year of his age.




ANN FLYNN
A Sad Case with a Humorous Sequel

ANN FLYNN was indicted at the Old Bailey for stealing
from a butcher in Whitechapel a shoulder of mutton. It appeared in
evidence that, the prosecutor being busy with his customers on a
Saturday night, the prisoner availed herself of that opportunity, and
carried away the shoulder of mutton. She was, however, soon
seized and brought back, and, an officer being sent for, she was
carried before a magistrate, and committed for trial. These facts
being proved, the prisoner was called upon for her defence; and
she told a tale of woe that penetrated every heart. She
acknowledged the robbery; but solemnly declared she was urged to
it by the most afflicting distress. Her husband had been ill and
unable to earn a shilling for twelve weeks, and she was driven to
the last extremity, with two infant children. In that deplorable
situation, continued the unfortunate woman, while the tears ran
down her wan cheeks, she desperately snatched the shoulder of
mutton -- for which she had already been confined five weeks.

The jury found her guilty, with a faltering accent; and the
recorder immediately replied, "Gentlemen, I understand you," and
sentenced her to be fined only one shilling and discharged, which
the jury themselves paid, but the officer of the prison gave it to her.

This case, if the extremity of the law had been resorted to, 
was felony.

As soon as she was taken away, the prosecutor addressed
the Court, and said that the constable had done him more injury
than the thief; for though Sir William Parsons, the magistrate that
committed her, had ordered him to take care of the shoulder of
mutton, he thought fit to cook it for his own dinner, and to sit down
and eat it.

[This new complaint, as might naturally be supposed,
excited not a little the risible muscles of the Court.]

The constable was immediately called upon to account for
his conduct, who said: "My Lord, I did take care of it, as ordered; I
kept it whilst it was worth keeping, and if my wife and I had not
eaten it, the dogs must have dined on it."



CAPTAIN CLARKE, R.N.
Convicted and condemned to be hanged for the Murder of Captain
Innis, in a Duel, and pardoned, 12th of June, 1750

THE Captains Innis and Clarke were commanders under
Admiral Knowles -- the first of the Warwick, and the latter of the
Canterbury, line-of-battle-ships, of sixty-four guns each -- when he
obtained a victory over a Spanish fleet of equal force, and took
from them the Conquistadore, and ran their Vice-Admiral on
shore, where she blew up, the rest escaping under favour of the
night. It was the opinion that had the Admiral availed himself of an
opportunity which at one time presented of bringing up his fleet to
bear at once upon the enemy the whole might have been taken.

The issue of this battle was therefore unsatisfactory to the
nation, and the Admiral was called to account for his conduct
before a court martial, held on board the royal yacht, the Charlotte,
at Deptford, which sat during nine days.

The opinion of the Court being unfavourable to the
Admiral caused a divided opinion among the officers. It did not,
however, affect the personal bravery of that commander, but, on
the contrary, as appeared in evidence, he displayed the greatest
intrepidity, exposing his person to imminent danger, after his ship
was disabled; but it appears that in maneuvring, previous to the
engagement, he had not availed himself of an advantage, by which
neglect it was begun by four of his, when six might have been
brought up. The Court therefore determined that he fell under the
14th and 23rd Articles of War -- namely, the word "negligence";
for which they sentenced him to be reprimanded. This sentence
caused much ill blood among the officers. The Admiral had
already been called out twice in duels with his captains, and had
received more challenges of the same kind; but Government, being
apprised of the outrages, put a stop to them by taking the
challengers into custody.

Captain Clarke, it appears, had given evidence on the trial
of the Admiral which displeased Captain Innis to so great a degree
that he called him "a perjured rascal," and charged him with giving
false evidence. This was certainly language worse to be borne by
an officer than rankling wounds, or even death. Captain Clarke,
being apprised that Innis in this way traduced and vilified him in
all companies, gave him a verbal challenge, which the other
accepted.

On the 12th of August, 1749, early in the morning, these
gentlemen, attended by their seconds, met in Hyde Park. The
pistols of Captain Clarke were screw-barrelled and about seven
inches long; those of Captain Innis were common pocket-pistols,
three inches and a half in the barrel. They were not more than five
yards distant from each other when they turned about, and Captain
Clarke fired before Captain Innis had levelled his pistol. The ball
took effect in the breast, of which wound Captain Innis expired at
twelve o'clock the same night. The coroner's jury found a verdict,
of wilful murder against Captain Clarke, on which he was
apprehended, brought to trial at the Old Bailey, found guilty, and
sentenced to death. The King, in consideration of his services, and
the bravery he displayed in fighting his ship under Admiral
Knowles, was pleased to grant him a free pardon.

There were other circumstances in this unfortunate
rencounter which were favourable to Captain Clarke, for his firing
on turning round, and his pistol being larger than that of Captain
Innis, was not deemed unfair by the sanguinary rules of duelling;
for Captain Innis might have provided, himself with a large pair
had he pleased. But what pleaded powerfully on his behalf was the
expressions of the dying man, who acquitted and forgave him.
When a soldier seized Captain Clarke, the former asked the
wounded man what he should do with him, to which he faintly
answered: "Set him at liberty, for what he has done was my own
seeking."

On the 1st of June, 1750, being the last day of the sessions
of the Old Bailey, Captain Clarke, among the other convicts, was
brought up to receive sentence of death, when he pleaded his
Majesty's pardon, which had been then lately sent him, and which
being recorded, he was discharged.



MARGARET HARVEY
Executed for Privately Stealing

MRS. HARVEY was a native of the city of Dublin, and
descended from parents of reputation, by whom she was educated
in a very decent manner. She married the valet of a nobleman
when she was only sixteen years of age; and her husband, soon
afterwards, procuring a lieutenant's commission on board a man-
of-war, sailed in the service of his country.

Returning after an absence of six months, he became
extremely jealous of his wife; but we have no account that he had
then any cause for such jealousy. Be this as it may, he treated her
with such severity that she left him, in apprehension that her life
was in danger.

Some of her relations afforded her present support; but,
when they began to think her troublesome, she went to her parents,
who received her with the utmost affection: but her husband had
art enough to persuade her father that she had no good cause to
have left him; on which the old man insisted on her returning to
her duty as a wife.

When she was again at home with him he treated her no
less cruelly than heretofore; and, on a particular occasion, without
any previous quarrel, he cut her on the arms and head with a
hanger, so that she carried the marks to the grave; yet still she
continued to love him with unabating affection.

At length, when she was on a visit, in company with
several other women, and complaining of the cruelty of her
husband, they recommended her to avenge herself by quitting him,
and putting herself under the protection of a gentleman who knew
her situation, pitied her case, and would be proud to become her
benefactor.

Fatally for her repose, she listened to this advice, and went
to live with the stranger; on which her husband left Dublin, and set
out for London.

The man who had thus been the indirect means of seducing
her from her duty soon grew tired of her company, and quitted her,
leaving her in circumstances of utter distress.

In this dilemma she determined to go in search of her
husband, and solicit his forgiveness; and, with this view, sailed for
England, and travelled to London; but her inquiries after him
proving fruitless, she went into service in Marylebone Street, and
remained about four months in that station.

When the fireworks were exhibited in St. James's Park, on
occasion of the peace with France, she was permitted to go and see
the extraordinary sight; and, while she was a spectator of that
magnificent show, some women and seamen entered into
conversation with her; and, going to a public-house, they spent the
night and following day in intemperance.

Ashamed now to return to her service, she took a lodging in
St. Giles's, and, becoming acquainted with some women of ill
fame, who were supported by sailors who visited them, she soon
became as abandoned in manners as her associates.

Some Irish seamen being acquainted with her, she went
with them to Wapping; and, having drank very freely, she was met
on her return home by a gentleman, who took her to a tavern,
where she found means to rob him of his gold watch; but, being
taken into custody that night, she was lodged in the Round-house,
and committed to Newgate the following day.

Being brought to trial at the Old Bailey sessions, she was
capitally convicted; but, pleading that she was with child, she was
respited till the year 1750, when sentence of death was passed on
her.

While in this distressed situation, she acknowledged that
she should not have pleaded being with child, but that she had
hopes of obtaining a pardon on condition of transportation; and on
the arrival of the warrant for her execution she wrung her hands,
cried exceedingly, and lamented the misfortunes which first
induced her to come to London.

On the morning of her execution she was visited by some
of her countrywomen, who, having privately brought in some
brandy, induced her to drink such a quantity of it, that she died in
an absolute state of intoxication; though before this circumstance
she had exhibited every real sign of penitence and contrition.

She was executed at Tyburn on the 6th of July, 1750.


JAMES COOPER
Executed for murder, August 26th, 1750


THIS man was the son of a butcher at Lexton, in Essex; and his
father, who had wholly neglected his education, employed him in
his own business when he was only ten years of age. Having lived
with his father till he was twenty-two, he then married, and opened
a shop at Colchester, where he dealt largely as a butcher, and
likewise became a cattle-jobber.

At the end of thirteen years, Cooper, through neglect, found his
losses so considerable that he could no longer carry on business;
and, one of his creditors arresting him, he was thrown into the
King's-Bench prison; but, as his wife still carried on trade, he was
enabled to purchase the rules. Soon after this, the marshal of the
King's Bench dying, he was obliged to pay for the rules a second
time.

He now sued for an allowance of the groats; and they were paid
him for about a year, when, through neglect of payment, he got out
of prison, and took a shop in the Mint, Southwark, where he
carried on his business with some success, his wife maintaining the
family in. the country.

[The groats: By 23d George II. debtors, after being a certain time
in prison, might claim the benefit therein imposed upon the
plaintiff in the suit on which they were confined; being fourpence
(a groat) per day; and in default of any one weekly instalment they
were entitled to their discharge; but the expense of moving the
Court to this end was generally too great for the prisoner to bear.]

At length he was arrested by another creditor, and waited two years
for the benefit of an act of insolvency. On his going to Guildford,
to take the benefit of the act, he found that the marshal had not
inserted his name in the list with those of the other prisoners; and,
having informed his creditor of this circumstance, the marshal was
obliged to pay debt and costs, the debtor was discharged, and the
marshal fined one hundred pounds for his neglect.

Cooper having now obtained his liberty, and his wife dying about
the same time, and leaving four children, he sent for them to
London; and, not long afterwards, married a widow, who had an
equal number of children.

He now, unfortunately, got acquainted with Duncalf and Burrell,
the former a notorious thief, and the latter a soldier in the guards;
and these men advising him to commence robber, he fatally
complied with their solicitations; and the following is an account
of a number of robberies which they committed.

Between Stockwell and Clapham they overtook two men, one of
whom, speaking of the probability of being attacked by footpads,
drew a knife, and swore he would kill any man who should
presume to molest them. The parties all drank together on the road,
and then proceeded towards London, when Cooper threw down the
man who was armed with the knife, and took it from him, and then
robbed him and his acquaintance of a watch, about twenty
shillings, and their handkerchiefs.

Their next robbery was on Mr. James, a tailor, whom they stopped
on the road to Dulwich, and took from him his watch and money.
He gave an immediate alarm, which occasioned a pursuit; but the
thieves effected their escape. Two of the three robbers wearing
soldiers' clothes, Mr. James presumed that they were of the guards;
and, going to the Parade in St. James's park, he fixed on two
soldiers as the parties who had robbed him.

As it happened that these men had been to Dulwich about the time
that the robbery had been committed, they were sent to prison, and
brought to trial; but were acquitted.

The accomplices in iniquity being in waiting for prey near
Bromley, Duncalf saw a gentleman riding along the road; and,
kneeling down, he seized the bridle, and obliged him to quit his
horse, when the others robbed him of his watch and two guineas
and a half.

Meeting soon afterwards with a man and woman on one horse,
near Farnborough, in Kent, they ordered them to quit the horse,
robbed them of near forty shillings, and then permitted them to
pursue their journey. Soon after the commission of this robbery
they heard the voices of a number of people who were in pursuit of
them: on which Cooper turned about, and they passed him, but
seized on Burrell, one of them exclaiming 'This is one of the
rogues that just robbed my brother and sister!'

On this Burrell fired a pistol into the air, to intimidate the pursuers,
among whom were two soldiers, whom Duncalf and Cooper
encountering at this instant, one of them was so dangerously
wounded by his own sword, which Duncalf wrested from his hand,
that be was sent as an invalid to Chelsea, where he finished his life.

The brother of the parties robbed, and a countryman, contested the
matter with the thieves, till the former was thrown on the ground,
where Burrell beat him so violently that he died on tile spot. The
robbers now took their way to London , where they arrived without
being pursued.

Cooper and Duncalf, the latter being provided with a bag, went
once to a farm-house, and stole all the fowls that were at roost; and
Duncalf saying, 'The first man we meet must buy my chickens,'
they had not travelled far before they met with a man whom they
asked to buy the fowls. He said he did not want any; but they
seized his horse's bridle, knocked him down, and robbed him of
above twelve pounds, with his hat and wig, watch and great coat.

On one of their walks towards Camberwell they met a man of
fortune, named Ellish, whose servant was lighting him home from
a club. Putting pistols to the gentleman's breast, his servant
attempted to defend him; on which they knocked him down with a
bludgeon; and the master still hesitating to deliver, they threw him
to the ground, and robbed him of his money, watch, and other
articles; and, tying him and his servant back to back, threw them
into a ditch, where they lay in a helpless manner till a casual
passenger released them from their disagreeable situation.

The villains now returned towards London. In their way, meeting a
man with a sack of stolen venison, they robbed him of his great
coat and thirty-six shillings; and, a few nights afterwards, they
robbed a man of a few shillings on the Hammersmith road, and
destroyed a lantern which he carried, that be should not be able to
make any pursuit after them.

On their return home they met a man on horseback, whom they
would have robbed; but, turning his horse suddenly, he rode to
Kensington turnpike, and gave an alarm, while the thieves got
through a hedge, and concealed themselves in a field. In the
interim, the man they had robbed of a few shillings brought a
number of people to take the thieves; but, not finding them, though
within their hearing, the man went towards his home alone; but the
rogues, pursuing him, took a stick from him, and beat him severely
for attempting to raise the country on them.

Immediately afterwards they hastened towards Brompton, and
stopped a gentleman, whom they robbed of his watch and money.
The gentleman had a dog, which flew at the thieves; but Cooper,
coaxing the animal into good humour, immediately killed him.

Their next expedition was to Paddington, where they concealed
themselves behind a hedge, till, observing two persons on
horseback, they robbed them of their watches, great coats, and
twelve guineas; and though an immediate alarm was given, and
many persons pursued them, they escaped over the fields as far as
Hampstead Heath, and came from thence to London.

Soon afterwards they stopped a gentleman between Kingsland and
Stoke Newington, who whipped Duncalf so that he must have
yielded, but that Cooper at the instant struck the gentleman to the
ground. They then robbed him of above seventeen pounds, and,
tying his hands behind him, threw him over a hedge, in which
situation he remained till some milkmen relieved him on the
following morning.

Meeting a man between Knightsbridge and Brompton, who had a
shoulder of veal with him, they demanded his money; instead of
delivering which, the man knocked Cooper down three times with
his veal, but the villains, getting the advantage, robbed the man of
his hat and meat, but could find no money in his possession.

Cooper being incensed against the person who had first arrested
him, who was Mrs. Pearson, of Hill Farm, in Essex, determined to
rob her; on which he and his accomplices went to the place, and,
learning that she was on a visit, waited till her return at night; when
they stopped her and her servant, and robbed them of eight
guineas.

On the following day Mrs. Pearson went to a magistrate, and
charged a person named Loader with having committed the
robbery; but it appearing that this man was a prisoner for debt at
the time, the charge necessarily fell to the ground.

Cooper and his associates meeting a farmer, named Jackson, in a
lane near Croydon, he violently opposed them: on which they
knocked him down, and, dragging him into a field, robbed him of
his watch and money, tied him to a tree, and turned his horse loose
on a common.

For this robbery two farriers, named Shelton and Kellet, were
apprehended; and, being tried at the next assizes for Surrey, the
latter was acquitted, but the former was convicted on the positive
oath of the person robbed, and suffered death.

The three accomplices, being out on the road near Dulwich, met
two gentlemen on horseback, one of whom got from them by the
goodness of his horse; and the other attempted to do so, but was
knocked down, and robbed of his watch and money. In the interim,
the party who had rode off, whose name was Saxby, fastened his
horse to a gate, and came back to relieve his friend: but the robbers
first knocked him down, and then shot him.

Having stripped him of what money he had, they hastened towards
London: but a suspicion arising that Duncalf was concerned in this
robbery and murder, he was taken into custody on the following
day; and, Cooper being taken up on his information, Burrell
surrendered, and was admitted an evidence for the crown.

William Duncalf was a native of Ireland, and had received a decent
education. Ho was apprenticed to a miller, who would not keep
him on account of his knavish disposition; and, being unable to
procure employment in Ireland, he came to London, where he
officiated as a porter on the quays.

Extravagant in his expenses, and abandoned in principle, he
commenced smuggler: but, being taken into custody by the
custom-house officers, be gave information against some other
smugglers; by which he procured his discharge, and was himself
made a custom-house officer.

A variety of complaints respecting the neglect of his duty having
been preferred to the commissioners of the customs, he was
dismissed, and once more commenced smuggler. Among his other
offences, he alleged a crime against a custom-house officer, who
was transported in consequence of Duncalf's perjured testimony.

We have already recounted many of his notorious crimes, in
conjunction with his accomplices above mentioned: but he did not
live to suffer the punishment that he merited; for he had not been
long in prison before the flesh rotted from his bones, and he died a
dreadful monument of the Divine vengeance, though not before he
had acknowledged the number and enormity of his crimes.

Cooper frequently expressed himself in terms of regret that a
villain so abandoned as Burrell should escape the hands of justice.
In other respects his behaviour was very resigned, and becoming
his unhappy situation. He acknowledged that he had frequently
deliberated with Burrell on the intended murder of Duncalf, lest he
should become an evidence against them: but he now professed his
happiness that this murder had not been added to the black
catalogue of his crimes.

When brought to trial he pleaded guilty, and confessed all the
circumstances of the murder; and, after sentence was passed
against him, appeared to be a sincere penitent for the errors of his
past life.

Being visited by a clergyman and his son, who had known him in
his better days, he was questioned respecting the robbery of Mrs.
Pearson, which he denied; but he had no sooner done so than he
was seized with the utmost remorse of mind, which the gaoler
attributed to the dread of being hung in chains; and, questioning
him on this subject, he said that he was indifferent about the
disposal of his body, but wished to communicate something to the
clergyman who attended him; and, when he had an opportunity,
confessed that his uneasiness arose from the consciousness of
having denied the robbery of Mrs. Pearson, of which he was really
guilty.

Cooper suffered on Kennington Common, August 26, 1750.

Few offenders commit such a number of crimes as this man did
before they are called to answer for them at the most awful
tribunal. From his fate we may learn that a continuance in villainy
is so far from affording security, that it effectually leads to ruin.

Habits of vice are not easily shaken off; and those of virtue are
equally apt to remain with us. What a lesson does this afford for
the practice of early piety, which will essentially influence all our
future lives!

Parents should remember that an education strictly religious is the
best foundation for their children's future conduct in life.

What bless'd examples do we find
Writ in the word of truth,
Of children that began to mind
Religion in their youth!


On the contrary, how many instances do we meet with, in which
the want of a religious education is productive of every vice!




JAMES MACLANE
Called "The Gentleman Highwayman." Executed at Tyburn, 3rd of
October, 1750, for Highway Robbery

THE subject of this memoir was descended from a
reputable family in the north of Scotland. His father, after being
liberally educated in the University of Glasgow, went to settle at
Monaghan, in the north of Ireland, as preacher to a congregation of
Dissenters. He married and had two sons, the elder of whom was
bred to the Church, and preached many years to the English
congregation at The Hague, and was equally remarkable for his
learning and the goodness of his heart. The younger son was the
unfortunate subject of this narrative.

As a young man James was very extravagant, and after
dissipating a fortune left by his father he came to London, and
married the daughter of Mr Macglegno, a horse-dealer, with whom
he received five hundred pounds, with which he commenced
business as a grocer in Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, and
supported his family with some degree of credit till the expiration
of three years, when his wife died, bequeathing two infant
daughters to the care of her parents, who kindly undertook to
provide for them; and both these children were living at the time of
their father's ignominious death.

Hitherto Maclane's character among his neighbours was
unimpeached; but soon after the death of his wife he sold off his
stock-in-trade and furniture and assumed the character of a fine
gentleman, in the hope of engaging the attention of some lady of
fortune, to which he thought himself entitled by the gracefulness of
his person and the elegance of his appearance.

At the end of about six months he had expended all his
money, and became greatly dejected in mind from reflecting on
that change of fortune that would probably reduce him to his
former state of servitude. While in this state of dejection an Irish
apothecary, named Plunkett, visited him and inquired into the
cause of his despondency. Maclane acknowledged the exhausted
state of his finances, candidly confessing that he had no money
left, nor knew any way of raising a shilling but by the disposal of
his wearing apparel; in answer to which Plunkett addressed him as
follows:--

"I thought that Maclane had spirit and resolution, with
some knowledge of the world. A brave man cannot want; he has a
right to live, and not want the conveniences of life while the dull,
plodding, busy knaves carry cash in their pockets. We must draw
upon them to supply our wants; there needs only impudence and
getting the better of a few idle scruples; there is scarce any courage
necessary. All whom we have to deal with are mere poltroons."

These arguments, equally ill founded and ridiculous, co-
operated so forcibly with the poverty of Maclane that he entered
into conversation with Plunkett on the subject of going on the
highway; and at length they entered into a solemn agreement to
abide by each other in all adventures, and to share the profit of
their depredations to the last shilling.

The first robbery these men committed was on Hounslow
Heath, where they stopped a grazier, on his return from Smithfield,
and took from him about sixty pounds.

This money being soon spent in extravagance, they were
induced to take a ride on the St Albans Road, and seeing a stage-
coach coming forward they agreed to ride up on the opposite sides
of the carriage. Maclane's fears induced him to hesitate; and, when
at length Plunkett ordered the driver to stop, it was with the utmost
trepidation that the other demanded the money of the passengers.

On their return to London at night Plunkett censured him as
a coward, and told him that he was unfit for his business. This had
such an effect on him that he soon afterwards went out alone, and
unknown to Plunkett; and, having robbed a gentleman of a large
sum, he returned and shared it with his companion.

A short time only had elapsed after this expedition when he
stopped and robbed the Honourable Horace Walpole, and his pistol
accidentally went off during the attack. For some time he
continued this irregular mode of life, during which he paid two
guineas a week for his lodgings and lived in a style of elegance,
which he accounted for by asserting that he had an estate in Ireland
which produced seven hundred pounds a year.

The speciousness of his behaviour, the gracefulness of his
person and the elegance of his appearance combined to make him a
welcome visitor, even at the houses of women of character; and he
had so far ingratiated himself into the affections of a young lady
that her ruin would probably have been the consequence of their
connection but that a gentleman, casually hearing of this affair, and
knowing Maclane to be a sharper, interposed his timely advice and
saved her from destruction.

On the 26th of June, 1750, Plunkett and Maclane, riding
out together, met the Earl of Eglinton in a post-chaise, beyond
Hounslow, when Maclane, advancing to the post-boy, commanded
him to stop, but placed himself in a direct line before the driver,
lest his lordship should shoot him with a blunderbuss, with which
he always travelled, for he was certain that the peer would not fire
so as to endanger the life of the post-boy. In the interim Plunkett
forced a pistol through the glass at the back of the chaise, and
threatened instant destruction unless his lordship threw away the
blunderbuss.

The danger of his situation rendered compliance necessary,
and his lordship was robbed of his money and a surtout coat. After
the carriage drove forward, Maclane took up the coat and
blunderbuss, both of which were found in his lodgings when he
was apprehended; but when he was afterwards tried for the offence
which cost him his life, Lord Eglinton did not appear against him.

Notice of their next robbery -- of a stage-coach -- was
given in the newspapers, and the articles stolen were described; yet
Maclane was so much off his guard that he stripped the lace from a
waistcoat, the property of one of the gentlemen who had been
robbed, and happened to carry it for sale to the laceman of whom it
had been purchased. He also went to a salesman in Monmouth
Street, named Loader, who attended him to his lodgings, but had
no sooner seen what clothes he had to sell than he knew them to be
those which had been advertised; and pretending enough to
purchase them said he that he had not money would go home for
more; instead of which he procured a constable, apprehended
Maclane, and took him before a magistrate.

Many persons of rank of both sexes attended his
examination, several of whom were so affected with his situation
that they contributed liberally towards his support.

Being committed to the Gatehouse, he requested a second
examination before the magistrate, when he confessed all that was
alleged against him. At his trial the jury brought him in guilty
without going out of court. A youth who had been condemned, but
was afterwards ordered to be transported for life, chose to continue
in the cell with Maclane; and, as they had opportunity, they went
among the other prisoners who were ordered for execution, to
instruct them, pray with them, and assist them in their preparation
for death. But Maclane was greatly shocked at the insensibility and
profaneness of some, and pitied the souls which were going into
eternity in so hopeless a state.

Arrived at Tyburn, he looked sadly up at the gallows, and
with a heartfelt sigh exclaimed: "O Jesus!"



AMY HUTCHINSON
Executed at Ely, 7th of November, 1750, for Petit Treason, in the
Murder of her Husband

THE Isle of Ely gave birth to this malefactor. At the age of
sixteen she was grown a tall fine girl; at which time she was
addressed by a young man, whose love she returned with equal
affection. Her father, being apprised of the connection, strictly
charged his daughter to decline it; but there was no arguing against
love: the connection continued till it became criminal.

The young fellow began to grow tired of her, and declared
his resolution of going to London, but said that he would wed her
on his return. Shocked at this apparent infidelity, she determined
on revenge. The former lover had no sooner left her than she was
addressed by a young man named John Hutchinson, and, though he
had been always extremely disagreeable to her, she agreed to
marry him the very next day after he had paid her a formal visit.

The consequence was that the marriage took place
immediately; but her admirer happening to return from London,
just as the newly wedded pair were coming out of church, the bride
was greatly affected at the recollection of former scenes, and the
irrevocable ceremony which had now passed.

She was unable to love the man she had married, and doted
to distraction on him she had rejected; and only a few days after
her marriage admitted him to his former intimacy with her: a
circumstance that gave full scope to the envious tongues of her
neighbours.

Hutchinson becoming jealous of his wife, a quarrel ensued;
in consequence of which he beat her with great severity; but this
producing no alteration in her conduct he had recourse to drinking,
with a view to avoid the pain of reflection on his situation.

In the interim his wife and the young fellow continued their
guilty intercourse uninterrupted; but, considering the life of her
husband as a bar to their happiness, it was resolved to remove him
by poison; for which purpose the wife purchased a quantity of
arsenic; and Mr Hutchinson being afflicted with an ague, and
wishing for something warm to drink, the wife put some arsenic in
ale, of which he drank very plentifully; and then she left him,
saying she would go and buy something for his dinner.

Meeting her lover, she acquainted him with what had
passed; on which he advised her to buy more poison, fearing the
first might not be sufficient to operate; but its effects were fatal, for
he died about dinner-time on the same day. The deceased was
buried on the following Sunday, and the next day the former lover
renewed his visits; which occasioned the neighbours to talk very
freely of the affair. The young widow was taken into custody the
same day, on suspicion of having committed a murder.

The body of the deceased being now taken up, the coroner's
jury was summoned, and the verdict they gave was that John
Hutchinson had died by poison: on which the woman was
committed to the jail at Ely.

She had counsel to plead for her on the trial; but, the
evidence against her being such as satisfied the jury, she was
convicted, and ordered for execution.

After conviction she confessed the justice of those laws by
which she had been condemned. She was attended by a clergyman,
to whom she acknowledged the magnitude of her crime, and
professed the most unfeigned penitence.

The miserable woman, willing to make atonement for her
crimes, left a written paper with the clergyman who attended her in
her last moments, on which was the following advice to her own
sex:--

"All the good I can now do, after my repentance and
abhorrence of my abominable crime, and prayers to God, is:

"First: To warn all young women to acquaint their friends
when any addresses are made to them; and, above all, if any base
or immodest man dare to insult you, with anything shocking to
chaste ears.

"Secondly: That they should never leave the person they
are engaged to in a pet, nor wed another to whom they are
indifferent, in spite; for if they come together without affection, the
smallest matter will separate them.

"Thirdly: That being married, all persons should mutually
love, forgive and forbear, and afford no room for busy meddlers to
raise and foment jealousy between two who should be one.
(Signed) "AMY HUTCHINSON."

Note: see the next case (John Vicars) for a description of
her execution.



JOHN VICARS
Executed at Ely, 7th of November, 1750, for the Murder of his
Wife, after first witnessing the Strangling of a Woman for
murdering her Husband

JOHN VICARS'S grandfather and father were born at
Oxford, and lived in good credit, till misfortunes obliged them to
go to Dodington, in the Isle of Ely. His father dying and leaving 
him young, and his mother taking a second husband, he had but a
slight education. At thirteen he was apprenticed to Mr J. Aaron, of
Holkham, Norfolk, gardener to Thomas Coke, Esq. (now Earl of
Leicester), where he served his time faithfully, and was employed
in the gardens, till an intrigue with a married woman obliged him
to leave that place. Having a recommendation to Mr Bridgman,
gardener at Kensington, he went and worked some time there, and
then engaged himself to Captain Duroy, of the Exeter man-of-war,
and served him about nine months. Being paid off, he assisted in a
party of smugglers about a year, and being taken prisoner, with
others, by a custom-house smack, near Rye, was committed to the
New Jail, in Southwark, tried, and acquitted by the indulgence of
the Court. He then was employed in the Earl of Oxford's gardens at
Chelsea, under Mr Miller, where he stayed one year.

Falling into company with one Anne Easom, he made love
to her and married her. They lived seven years very happily, but
had no children. About that time she began to be very much
afflicted with illness, which altered her temper so much that it
occasioned frequent uneasiness between them, and gave him such
disgust that he enlisted in the Duke of Bedford's regiment as a six
months' man, where he continued about a year, and then came to
his wife again and lived with her till her death, which happened
about twelve months after. He continued a widower about a year,
in which time, observing one Mary Hainsworth to keep a great deal
of company, he asked her one evening if they were all her
sweethearts; she replied no. He then offered himself, met with
great encouragement, and from that time he was refused no
favours. But he had no intention of marriage, nor did he promise
any such thing. They continued a criminal familiarity for a
fortnight, all which time she pressed him to marry her. He told her
there was no occasion for her to be in such a hurry; but she replied
she was with child, and if he would not marry her she would get a
warrant and force him. He said he should not care to be forced to
do anything against his will; on which she replied, if he would not
marry her she would certainly make away with herself. He then
kept away for two or three nights, to see how she would behave. In
the meantime came a hackney-coachman to town, with whom she
seemed to be so very much taken that a woman who worked in
Vicar's garden told him that he had lost his sweetheart. He said he
was glad of that, thinking he had got a good riddance. But he was
not so fortunate; for two or three nights after this the coachman left
the place; on which she flung herself in his way and, he says, he
was so simple as to renew their former acquaintance, but not on the
score of marriage, which she well knew, and agreed readily to keep
him company. But after two or three nights she threatened him
again with a warrant if he would not marry her.

At last, his affections growing stronger on her repeated
assurance that she would make him a careful and industrious wife,
he unfortunately married her; but not till he had earnestly desired
that if there was any other person for whom she had a greater
respect than himself she would consider of it, for when once
married it would be too late. This unhappy woman had learned the
glover's business, which she followed, and they lived very lovingly
for about two months; but after that time, he says, words frequently
arose between them, occasioned by her adhering to bad advice
given her by her mother, and others, by some of whom, she owned
to him, she was advised to poison him. From words they came to
blows, to which she provoked him, though he entreated her to
forbear. At length she went away from him to live with her mother,
and notwithstanding the most earnest entreaties refused to return.
One day, going by her mother's house with some fruit, and seeing
his wife there, he went in, offered her some fruit, and forced a kiss
from her, desiring to be reconciled. Her mother came in and, after
giving loose to her tongue in a virulent manner, fell to beating him,
swearing she would kill him, and advising his wife, who had a
knife in her hand, to stab him, which she endeavoured to do; but
he, feeling something against his belly, ran backwards to the door,
and fell upon the threshold, with the old woman upon him. He
rolled her off, and, getting up, found his thumb cut, a hole in his
shirt, and the skin ruffled; then, thinking himself in great danger,
went home. But his mother-in-law and his wife swore the peace
against him, and had a warrant to take him up. Upon 24th of April,
therefore, to prevent their serving it, he went to a gentleman's
about three miles from Whittlesea, to beg his advice, which was to
make a bill of sale of his goods and go off. He resolved to do so,
and came back to Whittlesea about six o'clock the same evening.
By the way, on seeing his wife in the new shop which her mother
had provided for her, his heart beat with love for her, but on the
thought of her obstinacy, and that his life or ruin was what they
aimed at, by laying him in jail, his resentment got the better of his
reason. Stepping into the shop where she was sitting at work, and
placing his left hand under her chin (he apprehended she thought
he was going to kiss her, because she seemed to smile) and
drawing his knife out of his pocket with his other hand, he made an
attempt to cut her throat, but was prevented by her putting her
hands up when she felt the knife. He then placed the point of the
knife under her left ear, the back part upwards, and stuck it
downward as they stick sheep. She once cried: "Murder!" He said:
"Molly, it is now too late, you should have been ruled in time." He
then ran into the street and called out for somebody to take him
prisoner, but everyone was afraid; on which he threatened if they
did not he would do more mischief; on which one Thomas Boone
took hold of his arm, and he surrendered himself; but appeared as a
lunatic till next day, when he was very calm.

This account was signed by himself, and it being reported
that he had committed more murders, he further desired it might be
explained as follows.

While he was gardener to R. Man, Esq., the garden was
often robbed, on which his master set him to watch one night,
armed with a gun and a hanger, and fixed a trap at the supposed
place of entrance. The thief came, and soon saw reason to run off;
but Vicars cut him in the leg with his hanger; besides which he was
so unfortunate as to be taken in the trap, the teeth of which,
reaching about the middle of his body, struck into him, so that,
being carried before a justice and committed to Maidstone jail, he 
soon after died of his wounds; "but this I apprehend," says he,
"cannot be deemed a murder."

While in prison he said that he dearly loved his wife, but
her provocation was so great that he could not let her live, nor live
without her, he first intending to kill himself also. He persisted in it
that he should do the same again on such provocation, though he
injured many in the same way without reluctance.

Vicars at the tree behaved very steadily, but penitent,
praying with the minister and singing Psalm VI. A woman named
Amy Hutchinson, who had been convicted for the murder of her
husband, was present to be strangled and burnt for her crime, and
Vicars expressed a desire to see her dispatched first.

Accordingly, her face and hands being smeared with tar,
and having a garment daubed with pitch, after a short prayer the
executioner strangled her, and twenty minutes after the fire was
kindled, and burned half-an-hour. He went then to Vicars, who
very undauntedly helped him to fix the knot, and immediately
threw himself off, and expired in a few minutes.



JOHN CARR
The Victim of Swindlers himself, he became a Pirate and
Smuggler, and was executed at Tyburn, 16th of November, 1750,
for Forgery

JOHN CARR was a native of the north of Ireland. His
parents were respectable, and his education was genteel. At sixteen
years of age he was sent to reside with a kinsman in Dublin. When
he grew to years of maturity his kinsman put him into business as a
wine and brandy merchant, and he seemed to be on the road to
success; but his friend dying, he attached himself to bad company,
neglected his business, lost his customers and was soon greatly
reduced in his circumstances.

A man of fortune who was one of his abandoned associates
invited Carr to pass part of the summer at his seat in the country,
and setting out together they stopped at Kilkenny, where some
passengers quitted a coach; among whom was a young lady, whose
elegant person and appearance impressed Carr with an idea that
she was of rank, and inspired him with the first sentiments of love
that he ever felt.

Throwing himself from his horse, he handed her into the
inn; and a proposal being made that the company should sup
together it was agreed to on all hands; and while the supper was
preparing, Carr applied himself to the coachman, to learn the
history of the young lady; but all the information he could obtain
was that he had taken her up at Dublin, and that she was going to
the Spa at Mallow.

Carr, being anxious to become better acquainted with the
lady, prevailed on the company to repose themselves the next day
at Kilkenny, and take a view of the Duke of Ormond's seat, and the
curiosities of the town. This proposal being acceded to, the evening
was spent in the utmost harmony and good humour; and the fair
stranger, even then, conceived an idea of making a conquest of Mr
Carr, from whose appearance she judged that he was a man of
distinction.

In the morning she dressed herself to great advantage, not
forgetting the ornament of jewels, which she wore in abundance;
so that when she entered the room, Carr was astonished at her
appearance. She found the influence she had over him, and
resolved to afford him an early opportunity of speaking his
sentiments; and while the company was walking in the gallery of
the Duke of Ormond's palace this opportunity offered.

The lady affected displeasure at this explicit declaration,
but soon assuming a more affable deportment she told him she was
an Englishwoman of rank; that his person was not disagreeable to
her, and that if he was a man of fortune, and the consent of her
relations could be obtained, she should not be averse to listening to
his addresses. She further said that she was going to spend part of
the summer at Mallow, where his company would be agreeable.

He followed her to that place, contrary to the advice of his
friend, who had formed a very unfavourable opinion of the lady's
character.

Here he dissipated so much cash in company with this
woman that he was compelled to borrow of his friend, who
remonstrated on the impropriety of the connection: but Carr still
kept her company, and at the end of the season returned with her to
Dublin.

Here the lovers agreed to sail for England, and Carr sold
some small estates, and, borrowing all the money he possibly
could, delivered the whole to his mistress.

Preparations were now made for the voyage, and Carr
employed himself in procuring a passage to England; but in his
absence the lady shipped all the effects on board a vessel bound for
Amsterdam; and, having dressed herself in man's apparel, she
embarked and sailed, leaving Carr to regret his ill-judged credulity.

On his return home, discovering how he had been robbed,
he was at first half-distracted with his loss; but, on cooler
reflection, he thought it would be in vain to pursue the thief; on
which he sold the few trifles that remained of his property, which
produced about a hundred pounds, and came to London, and soon
spent the whole in debauchery and extravagance.

Thus reduced, he enlisted as a foot soldier, and served some
years before he was discharged; after which he entered as a marine
at Plymouth, whence he came to London, and opened a shop in
Hog Lane, St Giles's. He now married a girl who he thought had
money, but soon discovering her poverty he abandoned her, and
removed to Short's Gardens, where he entered into partnership
with a cork-cutter.

Having soon ingratiated himself into the esteem of the
customers, he opened a shop on his own account, and soon got all
the business from his late partner. This, however, proved of no
service to him, for, getting into bad company, he frequented the
gaming-tables and became the dupe of sharpers.

These villains, determined to possess themselves of all his
money, offered to procure him a wife of fortune, though they knew
he had a wife living, and actually contrived to introduce him to a
young lady of property; and a marriage would probably have taken
place but that one of them, struck with remorse of conscience,
developed the affair to her father and frustrated the whole scheme;
and soon afterwards Carr's companions quitted him, having
reduced him to the last shilling.

Having been entrusted by a gentleman with a draft on the
bank for sixty pounds, he received the money and spent it all in the
lowest scenes of debauchery, and again entered as a marine.

There being something in his deportment superior to the
vulgar, he was advanced to the rank of sergeant, in which he
behaved so well that his officers treated him with singular regard.

The vessel in which he sailed taking a merchant ship richly
laden, and soon afterwards several smaller vessels, the prize-
money amounted to a considerable sum; which gave Carr an idea
that very great advantages might be obtained by privateering.
Thereupon he procured a discharge, and entering on board a
privateer was made master-at-arms.

In a few days the privateer took two French ships, one of
which they carried to Bristol and the other into the harbour of
Poole. Having refitted their ship they sailed again, and in two days
took a French privateer, and gave chase to three others which they
found to be English vessels belonging to Falmouth, which had
been made prize of by a French privateer. These they retook, and
carried them into Falmouth, in their passage to which place they
made prize of a valuable French ship, the amount of which
contributed to enrich the crew.

On their next trip they saw a ship in full chase of them, on
which they prepared for a vigorous defence, and indeed it was
necessary, for the vessels fought above forty minutes -- yardarm
and yardarm. Many hands were lost by the French, who at length
attempted to sheer off, but were taken after a chase of some
leagues.

The commander of the English privateer, being desperately
wounded in the engagement, died in a few days; on which Carr
courted his widow, and a marriage would have taken place, but she
was seized with a violent fever which deprived her of life, but not
before she had bequeathed him all she was possessed of.

Having disposed of her effects, he repaired to London,
where he commenced as smuggler; but on his ill-gotten effects
being seized on by the officers of the revenue he took to the more
dangerous practice of forging seamen's wills, and gained money
for some time. But, being apprehended, he was brought to trial at
the Old Bailey, convicted and sentenced to die. He was hanged at
Tyburn, on the 16th of November, 1750.



GEORGE ANDERSON ALIAS JOHN EVERETT
Who picked Pockets at Newgate, became a Highwayman, and was
executed for stealing Ribbons, 31st December, 1750

JOHN EVERETT was a native of Hertford, in which town
he served his apprenticeship to a baker. The young men in the
neighbourhood declined associating with him, and held him in
universal abhorrence, so ungracious were his manners and so
strong was his propensity to wickedness.

Upon the expiration of his apprenticeship he connected
himself with a gang of notorious gamblers and other dissolute
wretches, in conjunction with whom he perpetrated a great number
of villainies, but for several years escaped the vengeance of the
law.

By persuasions and the promise of a sum of money Everett
and a man named Wright induced a young woman to make a
charge of felony against two innocent men, who were put on their
trial, but happily acquitted, as the perjured evidence was not able
to authenticate her accusation. In revenge for their failing to supply
the girl with the money they had promised she lodged an
information against Everett and Wright, who were in consequence
indicted for subornation of perjury, and sentenced to stand in the
pillory at the end of Chancery Lane, where they received very
severe treatment from the populace.

Soon after the above punishment had been inflicted Everett
was tried at Hicks's Hall, and sentenced again to stand in the
pillory, for having fraudulently obtained a thirty-six-shilling piece.
He was afterwards convicted of having circulated counterfeit
Portugal coin, and ordered to be imprisoned for two years in
Newgate.

Soon after Everett's trial a company of gentlemen went to
Newgate to visit a criminal, and in a short time they discovered
that they had been robbed of their handkerchiefs. The circumstance
being mentioned to Everett, he pretended to be much surprised,
and intimated that there was but little probability of the property
being recovered. However in a little time he produced the
handkerchiefs, and received some money from the gentlemen as a
reward for his supposed honesty.

While he remained in Newgate he picked the pockets of
almost every person who came to visit the prisoners. He was
continually uttering the most reprobate speeches, and seemed to
delight in the practice of every species of wickedness. Upon the
expiration of the time he was sentenced to remain in prison he
found sureties for his good behaviour for two years, and was
discharged.

Having stopped a young gentleman in Fleet Street, he was
asked if a robbery was intended, upon which he knocked the
gentleman down; but a large dog belonging to the injured party
immediately seized the villain, who, with great difficulty,
disengaged himself just in time to escape being secured by the
watch.

Everett and a woman of the town went to a small inn at
Hoddesdon, in Hertfordshire, which was kept by an old widow,
and being invited into a room behind the bar, after having each
drunk a glass of wine, the widow and her female guest went to
walk in the garden. In the meantime Everett broke open a bureau
and stole sixty pounds in cash and several gold rings. They kept
the widow in conversation till the time of going to bed, in order to
divert her from going to the bureau, and the next morning
decamped with their booty. They took the road to Nottingham,
whence they crossed the country to Newmarket, and then returned
to London.

Everett's numerous villainies had rendered his name so
notorious that he was fearful of being apprehended, and therefore
he went under the name of George Anderson, and lived in a very
private manner till the money he had obtained was expended.

He now procured a knife eighteen inches long, and
determined to levy contributions on passengers on the highway. On
the road between Kentish Town and Hampstead he attempted to
rob a countryman; but he being of an intrepid temper a desperate
contest ensued, in which Everett proved the conqueror, and
dangerously wounded his antagonist, from whom he, however,
obtained but a small booty.

At length he was detected in stealing a quantity of ribbons
in a shop in London, and was apprehended, but not without making
a vigorous resistance, in doing which he dangerously wounded the
shopkeeper in the face and hands with a knife.

For this crime he was tried at the Old Bailey, convicted,
and received sentence of death. The night after the warrant for his
execution arrived he laid a plan to escape. He was furnished with
implements for this purpose, and for sawing off his fetters, by his
wife and his kept mistress, who, on this occasion, agreed. Being
discovered, the former was sent to one of the compters, and his
concubine to the other. On this he behaved so insolently and
outrageously that it was necessary to chain him to the floor of his
cell, where he remained, blaspheming and threatening vengeance
to the keeper and turnkeys, until he was brought out for execution.



WILLIAM RILEY
A young Soldier, whose Zeal for Sport led to a Murder, for which
he was executed at Tyburn in 1750

WILLIAM RILEY served the greater part of his
apprenticeship to a watchmaker at Liverpool, but on his master
dying he turned his mind to the sea, and sailed one voyage, which
it appears was sufficient to induce him to quit the watery element
for the service of the land; and to this end he enlisted into the 
second regiment of Foot Guards.

Walking matches, now lately revived, were in great vogue.
Considerable bets were depending on a man walking three hundred
miles in six days -- a feat little inferior to Captain Barclay's
thousand miles in as many successive hours. This wager was
determined in Tothill Fields, Westminster, in favour of the
pedestrian.

Riley, also a great walker, was so much interested in the
man's success that he undertook to clear the way; but on the last
day the crowd became so great that he, in his anxiety, struck
several who did not fall back, and among the rest one Sutton, who
returned the blow, whereupon a scuffle ensued, and Riley, being
thrown down by the mob, drew his sword and stabbed him, of
which wound he died, and Riley was found guilty of wilful
murder.

After sentence of death he was very penitent, and expressed
his deep contrition for taking away the life of a fellow-creature. He
was executed, along with George Robins, George Anderson and
Thomas Reynolds, when only nineteen years of age.


THOMAS REYNOLDS
Executed at Tyburn, for enlisting soldiers for the service of the king
of France.

 THIS traitor was a Roman Catholic, born and educated in Ireland.
He was an excellent scholar, being master of the Latin and French
languages. When a young man, he went over to France, where he enlisted
as a Hussar, wearing false whiskers, his beard not yet being grown. On
the rebel expedition being fitted out there to invade Scotland, he
served an officer, in the capacity of valet, and who was killed at the
battle of Culloden. After this he was taken at Carlisle, and from
speaking French so very fluently, he was exchanged as a Frenchman.

 Being a man of genteel address, he ingratiated himself so far
into the good opinion of a rich widow, near Carlisle, as to persuade
her to marry him.

 He soon left the widow, taking away from her all he could lay his
hands upon and returned to France, where he got an appointment in the
retinue of the ambassador from that country to the court of St.
James's.

 Having now some money, he determined on taking a public-house,
his master having attended King George on his then visit to Hanover,
and left him behind. He then sent for his wife, to attend the bar,
while he put in effect a plan which he long had in contemplation, of
seducing our soldiers, and enlisting them for the service of France;
and in this treasonable practice he was too long successful. The
insinuations which Reynolds used, to tempt the soldiers from their
loyalty, was to represent the severe punishments in the English army
and the lenity of that of the French -- that he had power to enlist for
Lord Ogilvie's regiment, one of the finest in the French army; where
they would be treated like gentlemen. He gave them abundance of
spirituous liquors and sent prostitutes to keep them company, until he
found an opportunity of shipping them. He also, contrived, at different
times, to send to France English arms and ammunition, which were
supposed to be for the purpose of another invasion and rebellion in
Scotland. His public-house was in St. Giles's, and frequented by lewd
women, and men of abandoned morals. Regarding the once splendid widow,
in her present employ of waiting upon such vagabonds;

"O what a falling off was there"

 Several soldiers of the guards frequented Reynolds's house, and
having already sent off some to France, he began to practise his deceit
upon one Carnes, a private soldier in the foot-guards. He persuaded him
to take money for this service, and shewed him fourteen or fifteen
suits of regimentals, belonging to soldiers whom he had already sent to
France. He desired him to cut off his hair, wear a smock frock, and to
avoid the large towns, or pass through in the night, on his road to
Dover. As a guard over him, he sent one of the prostitutes, many of
whom he had at his command, who was to see him shipped, and give him
money. Thus he meant to evade the proof of his having enlisted him.

 Arrived at Dover, Carnes went to the castle, and disclosed the
treason to the Fort Major. The woman, finding this, fled back to
London. The Fort Major detained Carnes, and sent information to the War
Office. Reynolds, before he could be apprized of this, was seized, his
house searched, and different regimental clothing found concealed. He
was convicted of the treason, on the clearest evidence, and sentenced
to be hanged.

 He protested his innocence to the very last moment of his life;
and declared that he went to be hanged with as much satisfaction as
though again going to be married.



NORMAN ROSS
A footman, executed at Edinburgh, January 8, 1751, for murdering
his mistress

This treacherous servant was descended from reputable
parents at Inverness, in the north of Scotland, who gave him a good
education, and intended that he should be brought up in a
merchant's counting-house; but before he had completed his
fifteenth year, his father and mother died, leaving Norman and
several other children wholly unprovided for.

Norman made application for employment to several
merchants; but though he was well qualified for business, his
proposals were rejected, because he could not raise the sum usually
given upon entering into a merchant's service as an articled clerk.

Thus situated, he engaged himself as a footman to a widow
lady of fortune, who on account of having been acquainted with his
parent, behaved to him with singular kindness. The lady had a son,
who was then a military officer in Flanders; and the campaign
there being concluded, the young gentleman returned to his native
country, to visit his mother, and transact some business particularly
relating to himself.

Observing Ross to possess many qualifications not usual to
persons in his situation, he proposed taking him abroad in the
capacity of valet-de-chambre; and the old lady acquiesced in her
son's desire.

Ross continued in the officer's service for the space of
about five years; during which period he behaved with the utmost
diligence and fidelity. The regiment being broke, on the conclusion
of the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, the officer set out on the tour of
France and Italy, and Ross returned to Scotland for the benefit of
his native air.

Soon after his return to Scotland, he recovered his health,
and set out in order to pay his respects to his former mistress; but
learning that she had been dead about three weeks, he repaired to
Edinburgh, where he was hired as a footman by an attorney-at-law.
Having contracted an intimacy with a number of livery servants, he
was seduced by their example to the practices of swearing, gaming,
drinking, and other vices; and he was dismissed from his service
on account of his impudence and the irregularity of his conduct.
Ross now became footman to Mrs. Hume, a widow lady of great
fortune and remarkable piety. In the winter she resided at
Edinburgh, and in the summer at a village called Ayton, about four
miles from the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed. About four months
after he had been hired by Mrs. Hume, the lady removed to her
house at Ayton; and some time after, a female servant in the
family, with whom he had maintained a criminal intercourse, was
brought to bed; and it therefore became necessary for him to
supply her with money for the support of herself and the infant.

He continued to provide her with the means of subsistence,
from the month of April till August, by borrowing money of his
fellow-servants and other persons with whom he was acquainted.

The woman at length becoming exceedingly importunate,
and his resources being wholly exhausted, he was driven nearly to
a state of distraction, and in that disposition of mind formed the
fatal resolution of robbing his mistress.

Mrs. Hume slept on the first floor, in an apartment behind
the dining-room, and being unapprehensive of danger, her
bedchamber door was seldom locked; and with this circumstance
Ross was well-acquainted, as well as that she usually put the keys
of her bureau (and the other places where her valuable effects were
deposited) under her pillow.

He determined to carry his execrable design into execution
on a Sunday night; and waiting in his bed-room, without
undressing himself, till he judged the family to be asleep, he
descended, and leaving his shoes in the passage, proceeded to his
lady's bed-chamber. Endeavouring to get possession of the keys,
the lady was disturbed, and being dreadfully alarmed, called for
assistance; but the rest of the family lying at a distant part of the
bouse, her screams were not heard. Ross immediately seized a
clasp-knife that lay on the table, and cut his mistress's throat in a
most dreadful manner. This horrid act was no sooner perpetrated,
than, without waiting to put on his shoes, or to secure either money
or other effects, he leaped out of the window, and after travelling
several miles, concealed himself in a field of corn.

In the morning, the gardener discovered a livery hat, which
the murderer had dropped in descending from the window; and
suspecting that something extraordinary had happened, he alarmed
his fellow-servants.

The disturbance in the house brought the two daughters of
Mrs. Hume downstairs; but no words can express the horror and
consternation of the young ladies, upon beholding their indulgent
parent weltering in her blood, and the fatal instrument of death
lying on the floor.

Ross being absent, and his shoes and hat being found, it
was concluded that he must have committed the barbarous deed;
and the butler therefore mounted a horse, and alarmed the country,
lest the murderous villain should escape. The butler was soon
joined by great numbers of horsemen, and on the conclusion of the
day, when both men and horses were nearly exhausted through
excessive fatigue, the murderer was discovered in a field of
standing corn. His hands being tied behind him, he was taken to an
adjacent public-house, and on the following morning he was
conducted before a magistrate of Edinburgh, who committed him
to prison.

On the trial of this offender, he had the effrontery to de
clare, that his mistress usually admitted him to her bed, and that it
was his constant practice to leave his shoes at the dining-room
door. He said, that upon entering the chamber, he perceived the
lady murdered, and leaped through the window in order to discover
who had perpetrated the barbarous deed; adding, that having lost
his hat, he did not chuse to return till evening, and therefore
concealed himself among the corn. He was severely reprimanded
by the court, for aggravating his guilt by aspersing the character of
a woman of remarkable virtue and piety, whom he had cruelly
deprived of life.

The law of Scotland bears an affinity to that of the Romans.
It invests the judges with power to punish criminals in such
manner as they may deem to be proportioned to their offences.
This privilege was exercised in the case of Ross, whose crime
having been attended with many aggravating circumstances, he 
was sentenced to have his right hand chopped off, then to be
hanged till dead, the body to be hung in chains, and the right hand
to be affixed at the top of the gibbet with the knife made use of in
the commission of the murder.

Upon receiving sentence of death, he began seriously to
reflect on his miserable situation, and the next day requested the
attendance of Mr James Craig, one of the ministers of Edinburgh,
to whom he confessed his guilt; declaring that there was no
foundation for his reflections against the chastity of the deceased.

Six weeks elapsed between the time of his trial and that of
his execution, during which he was visited once every day by Mr
Craig. He shewed every sign of the most sincere penitence, and
refused to accompany two prisoners who broke out of gaol, saying
he had no desire to recover his liberty, but on the contrary would
cheerfully submit to the utmost severity of punishment, that he
might make some atonement for his wickedness.

The day appointed for putting the sentence of the law into
force being arrived, Ross walked to the place of execution, holding
Mr Craig by the arm. Having addressed a pathetic speech to the
populace, and prayed some time with great fervency of devotion,
the rope was put round his neck, and the other end of it being
thrown over the gallows, it was taken hold of by four chimney-
sweepers, who are obliged to assist the executioner whenever they
are required. The criminal now laid his right hand upon a block,
and it was struck off by the executioner at two blows; immediately
after which the chimney-sweepers, by pulling the rope, raised him
from the ground; when he felt the rope drawing tight, by a
convulsive motion, he struck the bloody wrist against his cheek,
which gave him an appearance too ghastly to admit of description.
The body was bound in chains, and hung upon a gibbet, the hand
being placed over the head with the knife stuck through it.

RICHARD BUTLER
Executed at Tyburn, February 10, 1751, for forgery.

 How great the disappointment, and how melancholy the reflection,
when men who have passed the probation of truth with credit, sink into
idleness and gaming, from thence to thieving, and ending a life well
begun, at the gallows!

 Of this description of miserable beings was Richard. Butler. He
was born at Turlus (sic), in the county of Tipperary, Ireland. His
father was a reputable farmer, who bound him apprentice to a baker, in
Waterford. He proved so faithful and diligent a servant, that he was
held in universal esteem; and, upon the expiration of his
apprenticeship, his father gave him a hundred pounds, for the purpose
of establishing him in business.

 The above sum enabled him to open a shop in Waterford, where he
had a favourable prospect of success: but, instead of attending to his
business, he frequented horse-races, cock-fighting, and other gaming
meetings, and engaged in a variety of expenses greatly beyond what his
income could afford; the consequence of which was, that in about six
months his affairs were in a most embarrassed situation.

 Being unable to continue his business, he returned to Turlus,
where he formed a great number of infamous stratagems for extorting
money from his relations; and they threatened, that unless he quitted
that part of the country, they would cause him to be apprehended, and
proceed against him with the utmost rigour of the law.

 Butler applied to a clergyman at Turlus, representing his case in
a plausible manner, and supplicating that he would use his interest
with his father to prevail upon him to grant twenty pounds in addition
to his former favours. The worthy divine pleaded in behalf of the young
man, and with the desired success. Upon delivering the money, the
reverend gentleman exhorted him to apply it to proper use; which he
promised to do, adding that he would immediately depart for Cork, and
not return to the place of his nativity till, by an unremitting
perseverance in a system of integrity, he had made atonement for all
the errors of his past conduct.

 On his arrival at Cork, he procured employment as a journeyman;
and in that capacity he was so industrious and strictly economical,
that in a short time he made such addition to his stock, that he was
able to open a shop on his own account. He was much encouraged, and his
circumstances were supposed to be more flourishing than they were in
reality.

 Coming into possession of a handsome sum of money, by marrying
the widow of a customhouse officer, who lived in the neighbourhood,
Butler took a tavern of considerable business, where his circumstances
would have been much improved, but for his connexions with maritime
people, to whom he gave unlimited credit, and was under the necessity
of taking smuggled goods in payment or losing his money.

 An information being lodged against him for having smuggled goods
in his possession, his effects were seized for the use of the crown,
and he was under the necessity of quitting Ireland. Butler and his wife
took shipping for Plymouth, and in that town they hired a house, which
they let in lodgings to seafaring people. In about three years he was
obliged to quit Plymouth, and repaired to the metropolis in a most
distressed condition.

 He had not been long in London, before the grief consequent on
the various scenes of distress he had passed through, produced the
death of his wife.

 Butler now being in very distressed circumstances, he
communicated his case to some of his countrymen; and he yielded to
their persuasions for acquiring a livelihood by forging seamen's wills.

 Butler, Horne, and a woman named Catherine Gannon, went to the
Navy-office: to inquire what wages were due to Thomas Williamson, a
foremast man belonging to the Namur, and learnt that the sum was about
eight and thirty pounds. They then made application to a proctor, the
woman producing a forged will, and declaring herself to be the widow of
Williamson. They were desired to call the next day, when a probate
would be granted.

 Butler and his female accomplice attended according to the
appointment; but the proctor having, in the mean time searched the
offices, found that the will in question was opposed by four caveats;
and having further reason to suspect an intended fraud, he caused them
to be apprehended. Being taken before the lord-mayor, Gannon
acknowledged that she had received a few shillings from Butler and
Horne, who had promised to make the sum up to five pounds; on condition
of her swearing herself to be the widow of Thomas Williamson. Butler
was committed to Newgate; and Gannon and Horne were admitted evidences
for the crown.

 At the ensuing sessions at the Old. Bailey, Butler was tried, and
sentenced to die. While under sentence of death he regularly attended
prayers, in the chapel and employed a great part of his time in private
devotions, agreeably to the doctrines of the protestant faith. At the
place of execution he prayed with great fervency of zeal, acknowledged
the justice of his sentence, and after addressing the populace, was
turned off.


WILLIAM PARSONS, ESQ.
Eldest Son of a Baronet, who became a Swindler and Highway
Robber, and was executed for returning from Transportation, 11th
of February, 1751

The unhappy subject of this narrative was born in London,
in the year 1717, the eldest son and heir to Sir William Parsons,
Bart. of the county of Nottingham. He was placed under the care of
a pious and learned divine at Pepper-harrow, in Surrey, where he
received the first rudiments of education. In a little more than three
years, he was removed to Eton college, where it was intended that
he should qualify himself for one of the universities.

While he was a scholar at Eton, he was detected in stealing
a volume of Pope's Homer in the shop of a bookseller named Pate.
Being charged with the fact, he confessed that he had stolen many
other books at different times. The case being represented to the
master, Parsons underwent very severe discipline.

Though he remained at Eton nine years, his progress in
learning was very inconsiderable. The youth was of so
unpromising a disposition, that Sir William determined to send him
to sea, as the most probable means to prevent his destruction, and
soon procured him the appointment of midshipman on board a man
of war, then lying at Spithead, under sailing orders for Jamaica,
there to be stationed for three years.

Some accident detained the ship beyond the time when it
was expected she would sail. Parsons applied for leave of absence,
and went on shore; but having no intention to return, he
immediately directed his course towards a small town about ten
miles from Portsmouth, called Bishop's Waltham, where he soon
ingratiated himself into the favour of the principal inhabitants.

His figure being pleasing, and his manner of address easy
and polite, he found but little difficulty in recommending himself
to the ladies.

He became greatly enamoured of a beautiful and
accomplished young lady, the daughter of a physician of
considerable practice, and prevailed upon her to promise she would
yield her hand in marriage.

News of the intended marriage coming to the knowledge of
his father sir William, and his uncle, the latter hastened to
Waltham to prevent a union which he apprehended would
inevitably produce the ruin of the contracting parties.

With much difficulty the uncle prevailed upon Parsons to
return to the ship, which in a few days afterwards proceeded on her
voyage.

The ship had not been long arrived at the place of
destination, when Parsons resolved to desert, and return to
England, and soon found an opportunity of shipping himself on
board the Sheerness man of war, then preparing to sail on her
return home.

Immediately after his arrival in England, he set out for
Waltham, in order to visit the object of his desires; but his uncle
being apprised of his motions, repaired to the same place, and
represented his character in so unfavourable, but at the same time
in so just a manner, that he prevented the renewal of his addresses
to the physician's daughter.

He went home with his uncle, who observed his conduct
with a most scrupulous attention, and confined him, as much as
possible, within doors. This generous relation at length exerted his
interest to get the youth appointed midshipman on board his
majesty's ship the Romney, which was under orders for the
Newfoundland station.

Upon his return from Newfoundland, Parsons learnt, with
infinite mortification, that the duchess of Northumberland, to
whom he was related, had revoked a will made in his favour, and 
bequeathed to his sister a very considerable legacy, which he had
expected to enjoy. He was repulsed by his friends and
acquaintance, who would not in the least countenance his visits at
their houses; and his circumstances now became exceedingly
distressed.

Thus situated he applied to a gentleman named Bailey, with
whom he had formerly lived on terms of intimacy; and his
humanity induced him to invite Parsons to reside in his house, and
to furnish him with the means of supporting the character of a
gentleman. Mr Bailey also was indefatigable in his endeavours to
effect a reconciliation between young Parsons and his father, in
which he at length succeeded.

Sir William having prevailed upon his son to go abroad
again, and procured him an appointment under the governor of
James Fort, on the river Gambia, he embarked on board a vessel in
the service of the Royal African company.

Parsons had resided at James Fort about six months, when a
disagreement took place between him and governor Aufleur; in
consequence of which the former signified a resolution of
returning to England. Hereupon the governor informed him that he
was commissioned to engage him as an indented ser vant for five
years. Parsons warmly expostulated with the governor, declaring
that his behaviour was neither that of a man of probity or a
gentleman, and requested permission to return. But so far from
complying, the governor issued orders to the sentinels to be
particularly careful lest he should effect an escape.

Notwithstanding every precaution, Parsons found means to
get on board a homeward-bound vessel, and being followed by Mr
Aufleur, he was commanded to return, but cocking a pistol, and
presenting it to the governor, he declared he would fire upon any
man who should presume to molest him. Here upon the governor
departed, and in a short time the ship sailed for England.

Soon after his arrival in his native country, he received an
invitation to visit an uncle who lived at Epsom, which he gladly
accepted, and experienced a most cordial and friendly reception.

He resided with his uncle about three months, and was
treated with all imaginable kindness and respect. At length one of
the female servants in the family swore herself to be pregnant by
him, which so incensed the old gentleman, that he dismissed
Parsons from his house.

Reduced to the most deplorable state of poverty, he
directed his course towards the metropolis; and three half-pence
being his whole stock of money, he subsisted four days upon the
bread purchased with that small sum, quenching his thirst at the
pumps he casually met with in the streets. He lay four nights in a
hay-loft in Chancery-lane, belonging to the master of the rolls, by
permission of the coachman, who pitied his truly deplorable case.

At length he determined to apply for redress to an ancient
gentlewoman with whom he had been acquainted in his more
youthful days, when she was in the capacity of companion to the
duchess of Northumberland. Weak and emaciated through want of
food, his appearance was rendered still more miserable by the
uncleanliness and disorder of his apparel; and when he appeared
before the old lady, she tenderly compassionated his unfortunate
situation, and recommended him to a decent family in Cambridge
Street, with whom be resided some time in a very comfortable
manner, the old gentlewoman defraying the charge of his lodging
and board; and a humane gentleman, to whom she had
communicated his case, supplying him with money for common
expenses.

Sir William came to town at the beginning of the winter,
and received an unexpected visit from his son, who dropped upon
his knees, and supplicated forgiveness with the utmost humility
and respect. His mother-in-law was greatly enraged at his
appearance, and upbraided her husband with being foolishly
indulgent to so graceless a youth, at the same time declaring, that
she would not live in the house where he was permitted to enter.

Sir William asked him what mode of life he meant to
adopt? and his answer was, that he was unable to determine; but
would cheerfully pursue such measures as so indulgent a parent
should think proper to recommend. The old gentleman then
advised him to enter as a private man in the horse-guards; which he
approved of, saying, he would immediately offer himself as a
volunteer.

Upon mentioning his intention to the adjutant, he was in
formed that he must pay seventy guineas for his admission into the
corps. This news proved exceedingly afflicting, as he had but little
hope that his father would advance the necessary sum. Upon
returning to his father's lodgings, he learnt that he had set out for
the country, and left him a present of only five shillings.

Driven now nearly to a state of distraction, he formed the
desperate resolution of putting an end to his life, and repaired to St.
James's Park, intending to throw himself into Rosamond's pond.
While he stood on the brink of the water, waiting for an
opportunity of carrying his impious design into effect, it occurred
to him, that a letter he had received, mentioning the death of an
aunt, and that she had bequeathed a legacy to his brother, might be
made use of to his own advantage; and he immediately declined
the thoughts of destroying himself.

He produced the letter to several persons, assuring them
that the writer had been misinformed respecting the legacy, which
in reality was left to himself; and under the pretext of being
entitled to it, he obtained money and effects from different people
to a considerable amount. Among those who were deceived by this
stratagem was a tailor in Devereux court in the Strand, who gave
him credit for several genteel suits of clothes.

The money and other articles thus fraudulently obtained,
enabled him to engage in scenes of gaiety and dissipation; and he
seemed to entertain no idea that his happiness would be but of
short duration.

Accidentally meeting the brother of the young lady to
whom he had made professions of love at Waltham, he intended to
renew his acquaintance with him, and his addresses to his sister;
but the young gentleman informed Parsons that his sister died
suddenly a short time after his departure from Waltham.

Parsons endeavoured, as much as possible, to cultivate the
friendship of the above young gentleman, and represented his case
in so plausible a manner, as to obtain money from him, at different
times, to a considerable amount.

Parsons' creditors now became exceedingly importunate,
and he thought there was no probability of relieving himself from
his difficulties, but by connecting himself in marriage with a
woman of fortune.

Being eminently qualified in those accomplishments which
are known to have a great influence over the female world, Parsons
soon ingratiated himself into the esteem of a young lady possessed
of a handsome independency bequeathed her by her lately
deceased father. He informed his creditors that he had a prospect of
an advantageous marriage; and as they were satisfied that the lady
had a good fortune, they supplied him with every thing necessary
for prosecuting the amour, being persuaded that, if the expected
union took place, they should have no difficulty in recovering
theirS respective demands.

The marriage was solemnized on the 10th of February,
1740, in the 23d year of his age. On this event, the uncle, who
lived at Epsom, visited him in London, and gave him the strongest
assurances that he would exert every possible endeavour to
promote his interest and happiness, on condition that be would
avoid such proceedings as would render him unworthy of
friendship and protection. His relations in general were perfectly
satisfied with the connexion he had made, and hoped that his
irregular and volatile disposition would be corrected by the prudent
conduct of his bride, who was justly esteemed a young lady of
great sweetness of temper, virtue, and discretion.

A few weeks after his marriage, his uncle interceded in his
behalf with the right honourable Arthur Onslow; and through the
interest of that gentleman he was appointed an ensign in the thirty-
fourth regiment of foot.

He now discharged all his debts, which proved highly
satisfactory to all his relations; and this conduct was the means of
his obtaining further credit in times of future distress.

He hired a very handsome house in Poland Street, where he
resided two years, in which time he had two children, one of whom
died very young. From Poland Street, he removed to Panton-
square, and the utmost harmony substituted between him and his
wife, who were much respected by their relations and
acquaintances.

But it must be observed, that though his conduct in other
respects had been irreproachable from the time of his mar riage, be
was guilty of unpardonable indiscretion as to his manner of living;
for he kept three saddle-horses, a chaise and pair, several
unnecessary servants, and engaged in many other superfluous
expences that his income could not afford.

Unfortunately Parsons became acquainted with an
infamous gambler, who seduced him to frequent gaming-houses,
and to engage in play. He lost considerable sums, which were
shared between the pretended friend of Parsons, and his wicked
accomplices.

Parsons was now promoted to a lieutenancy in a regiment
that was ordered into Flanders, and was accompanied to that
country by the abandoned gamester, whom he considered as his
most valuable friend. The money he lost in gaming, and the
extravagant manner in which he lived, in a short time involved him
in such difficulties that he was under the necessity of selling his
commission, in order to discharge his debts contracted in Flanders.
The commission being sold, Parsons and his treacherous
companion returned to England.

His arrival was no sooner known, than his creditors were
extremely urgent for the immediate discharge of their respective
claims; which induced him to take a private lodging in Gough-
square, where he passed under the denomination of captain Brown.
He pretended to be an unmarried man; and saw his wife only when
appointments were made to meet at a public-house. While he
lodged in Gough-square, he seduced his landlord's daughter, who
became pregnant by him; and her imprudence in yielding to the
persuasions of Parsons, proved the means of involving her in
extreme distress.

His creditors having discovered the place of his retreat, he
deemed it prudent to remove; and at this juncture an opportunity
offered by which he hoped to retrieve his fortune; and he therefore
embarked as captain of marines on board the Dursley privateer.

Soon after the arrival of the ship at Deal, Parsons went on
shore, provided with pistols, being determined not to submit to an
arrest, which he supposed would be attempted. He had no sooner
landed on the beach, than he was approached by five or six men,
one of whom attempted to seize him; but Parsons, stepping aside,
discharged one of the pistols, and lodged a ball in the man's thigh.
He then said, he was well provided with weapons, and would fire
upon them if they presumed to give him further molestation.
Hereupon the officers retreated; and Parsons returned to the ship,
which sailed from Deal the following morning.

They bad been in the channel about a week, when they
made prize of a French privateer, which they carried into the port
of Cork. Parsons being now afflicted with a disorder that prevailed
among the French prisoners, was sent on shore for the recovery of
his health. During his illness, the vessel sailed on another cruise,
and he was no sooner in a condition to permit him to leave his
apartment, than he became anxious to partake of the fashionable
amusements.

In order to recruit his finances, which were nearly
exhausted, he drew bills of exchange on three merchants in
London, on which he raised 60L.; and before advice could be
transmitted to Cork, that he had no effects in the hands of the
persons on whom he had drawn the bills, he embarked on board a
vessel bound for England.

He landed at Plymouth, where he resided some time under
a military character, to support his claim to which he was provided
with a counterfeit commission. He frequented all places of public
resort, and particularly where gaming was permitted. His money
being nearly expended, he obtained a hundred pounds from a
merchant of Plymouth, by means of a false draft upon an alderman
of London. Some time after the discovery of the fraud, the injured
party saw Parsons a transport prisoner on board a ship bound to
Virginia, lying in Catwater bay, where he assured him of an entire
forgiveness, and made him a present of a guinea.

From Plymouth, Parsons repaired to London, and his
money being nearly spent, he committed the following fraud, in
conjunction with a woman of the town: taking his accomplice to a
tavern in the Strand (where he was known), he represented her as
an heiress, who had consented to a private marriage and requested
the landlord to send immediately for a clergyman. The parson
being arrived, and about to begin the ceremony, Parsons
pretending to recollect that he had forgotten to provide a ring, and
ordered the waiter to tell some shop-keeper to the neighbourhood
to bring some plain gold rings. Upon this the clergyman begged to
recommend a very worthy man, who kept a jeweller's shop in the
neighbourhood: and Parsons said it was a matter of indifference
with whom he laid out his money; adding, that as he wished to
compliment his bride with some small present, the tradesman
might also bring some diamond rings.

The rings being brought, and one of each chosen, Parsons
produced a counterfeit draft, saying, the jeweller might either give
him change then, or call for payment after the ceremony; on which
the jeweller retired, saying, he would attend again in the afternoon.
In a little time, the woman formed a pretence for leaving the room,
and upon her not returning soon, our hero affected great
impatience, and, without taking his hat, quitted the apartment,
saying, he would enquire for the people of the house whether his
bride had not been detained by some unforeseen accident.

After waiting a considerable time, the clergyman called the
landlord; and as neither Parsons nor the woman could be found, it
was rightly concluded, that their whole intention was to perpetrate
a fraud. In the mean time, our hero and his accomplice met at an
appointed place, and divided their booty.

In the year 1745, he counterfeited a draft upon one of the
collectors of the excise, in the name of the duke of Cumberland,
for five hundred pounds. He carried the draft to the collector, who
paid him fifty pounds in part, being all the cash that remained in
his hands.

He went to a tailor, saying, he meant to employ him, on the
recommendation of a gentleman of the army, whom he had long
supplied with clothes; adding, that a captain's commission was
preparing for him at the war-office. The tailor furnished him with
several suits of clothes; but not being paid according to agreement,
he entertained some suspicion as to the responsibility of his new
customer; and therefore enquired at the war-office respecting
captain Brown, and learnt that a commission was making out for a
gentleman of that name. Unable to get any part of the money due
to him, and determined to be no longer trifled with, he instituted a
suit at common-law, but was non-suited, having laid his action in
the fictitious name of Brown, and it appearing that Parsons was the
defendant's real name.

Parsons sent a porter from the Ram Inn, in Smithfield, with
a counterfeit draft upon Sir Joseph Hankey and Co. for five
hundred pounds. Parsons followed the man, imagining that if he
came out of Sir Joseph's house alone, he would have received the
money; and that if he was accompanied by any person, it would be
a strong proof of the forgery being dis covered; and as he observed
sir Joseph and the porter get into a hackney-coach, he resolved not
to return to the inn.

He next went to a widow named Bottomley, who lived near
St. George's church, and saying that he had contracted to supply
the regiment to which he belonged with hats, gave her an order to
the amount of a hundred and sixty pounds. He had no sooner got
possession of the hats, than he sold them to a Jew for one half of
the sum he had agreed to pay for them.

Being strongly apprehensive that he could not long avoid
being arrested by some of his numerous and highly exasperated
creditors, by means of counterfeit letters, he procured himself to be
taken into custody, as a person disaffected to the king and
government; and was supported without expense, in the house of
one of the king's messengers, for the space of eighteen months.

Being released from the messenger's house, he resolved in
his mind a variety of schemes for eluding the importunity of his
creditors and at length determined to embark for Holland. He
remained in Holland a few months, and when his money was
nearly expended he returned to England. A few days after his
arrival in London, he went to a masquerade, where he engaged in
play to the hazard of every shilling he possessed, and was so
fortunate as to obtain a sufficient sum for his maintenance for
several months.

His circumstances being again distressed, he wrote in
pressing terms to his brother-in-law, who was an East-India
director, intreating that he would procure him a commission in the
company's service, either by land or sea. The purport of the answer
was, that a gentleman in the Temple was authorised to give the
supplicant a guinea, but that it would be fruitless for him to expect
any further favours.

Having written a counterfeit draft, he went to Ranelagh on
a masquerade night, where he passed it to a gentleman who had
won some small sums of him. The party who received the draft
offered it for payment in a day or two afterwards, when it was
proved to be a counterfeit; in consequence of which Parsons was
apprehended, and committed to Wood Street compter.

As no prosecutor appeared, Parsons was necessarily
acquitted; but a detainer being lodged, charging him with an
offence similar to the above, he was removed to Maidstone gaol, in
order for trial at the Lent assizes at Rochester.

Mr Carey, the keeper of the prison, treated Parsons with
great humanity, allowing him to board in his family, and indulging
him in every privilege that he could grant, without a manifest
breach of the duties of his office. But such was the ingratitude of
Parsons, that he formed a plan, which, had it taken effect, would
have utterly ruined the man to whom he was indebted in such great
obligations. His intention was, privately to take the keys from Mr
Carey's apartment; and not only to escape himself, but even to give
liberty to every prisoner in the gaol: and this scheme he
communicated to a man accused of being a smuggler, who
reported the matter to Mr Carey, desiring him to listen at an
appointed hour at night, when he would hear a conversation that
would prove his intelligence to be authentic. Mr Carey attended at
the appointed time, and being convinced of the ingratitude and
perfidy of Parsons, he abridged him of the indulgences he had
before enjoyed, and caused him to be closely confined.

Being convicted at the assizes at Rochester, he was
sentenced to transportation for seven years; and in the following
September be was put on board the Thames, captain Dobbins,
bound for Maryland, in company with upwards of one hundred and
seventy other convicts, fifty of whom died in the voyage. In
November, 1749, Parsons was landed at Annapolis, in Maryland;
and having remained in a state of slavery about seven weeks, a
gentleman of considerable property and in fluence, who was not
wholly unacquainted with his family, compassionating his
unfortunate situation, obtained his freedom, and received him at
his house in a most kind and hospitable manner.

Parsons had not been in the gentleman's family many days
before he rode off with a horse which was lent him by his
benefactor, and proceeded towards Virginia; on the borders of
which country he stopped a gentleman on horseback, and robbed
him of five pistoles, a moidore, and ten dollars.

A few days after, he stopped a lady and gentleman in a
chaise, attended by a negro servant, and robbed them of eleven
guineas and some silver: after which he directed his course to the
Potomack river, where finding a ship nearly ready to sail for
England, he embarked, and after a passage of twenty-five days
landed at Whitehaven.

He now produced a forged letter, in the name of one of his
relations, to a capital merchant of Whitehaven, signifying that he
was entitled to the family estate, in consequence of his father's
decease, and prevailed upon him to discount a false draft upon a
banker in London for seventy-five pounds.

Upon his arrival in the metropolis, he hired a handsome
lodging at the west end of the town; but he almost constantly
resided in houses of ill fame, where the money he had so un justly
obtained was soon dissipated.

Having hired a horse, he rode to Hounslow-heath, where,
between ten and eleven o'clock at night, he stopped a postchaise, in
whicb were two gentlemen, whom he robbed of five guineas, some
silver, and a watch.

A short time afterwards he stopped a gentleman near
Turnham-green, about twelve o'clock at night, and robbed him of
thirty shillings, and a gold ring. He requested that the ring might be
returned, as it was his wife's wedding ring. Parsons compiled with
the gentleman's request, and voluntarily returned the gentleman
five shillings, telling him, at the same time, that nothing but the
most pressing necessity could have urged him to the robbery: after
which the gentleman shook hands with the robber, assuring him
that, on account of the civility of his behaviour, he would not
appear to prosecute, if he should hear of his being apprehended.

Returning to his lodgings near Hyde-park-corner one
evening, he overtook a footman in Piccadilly, and joining company
with him, a familiar conversation took place, in the course of
which Parsons learnt that the other was to set out early on the
following Sunday with a portmanteau, containing cash and notes to
a considerable value, the property of his master, who was then at
Windsor.

On the Sunday morning he rode towards Windsor,
intending to rob the footman. Soon after he had passed Turnham-
green, he overtook two gentlemen, one of whom was Mr Fuller,
who had prosecuted him at Rochester, and who perfectly
recollecting his person, warned him not to approach. He however
paid no attention to what Mr Fuller said, but still continued
sometimes behind and sometimes before them, though at a very
inconsiderable distance.

Upon coming into the town of Hounslow, the gentlemen
alighted, and commanded Parsons to surrender, adding that if he
did not instantly comply, they would alarm the town. He now
dismounted, and earnestly entreated that the gentlemen would
permit him to speak to them in private which they consented to;
and the parties being introduced to a room at an inn, Parsons
surrendered his pistols, which were loaded and primed, and
supplicated for mercy in the most pathetic terms.

In all probability he would have been permitted to
escape,had not Mr Day, landlord of the Rose and Crown at Houns
low, come into the room, and advised that be might be detained as
he conceived him very nearly to answer the description of a
highwayman by whom the roads in that part of the country had
been long infested. He was secured at the inn till the next day, and
then examined by a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate.

Parsons was now arraigned for returning from
transportation before the expiration of the term of his sentence:
nothing therefore was necessary to convict him but the identifying
of his person. This being done, he received sentence of death. His
distressed father and wife used all their interest to obtain a pardon
for him, but in vain: he was an old offender, and judged by no
means a fit object for mercy.

While Parsons remained in Newgate, his behaviour was
such that it could not be determined whether be entertained a
proper idea of his dreadful situation. There is indeed but too much
reason to fear that the hopes of a reprieve (in which he deceived
himself even to the last moments of his life) induced him to neglect
the necessary preparation for eternity.

His taking leave of his wife afforded a scene extremely
affecting: he recommended to her parental protection his only
child, and regretted that his misconduct had put it in the power of a
censorious world to reflect upon both the mother and son.

He suffered at Tyburn, on the 11th of February, 1751. At
the place of execution he joined in the devotional exercises with a
zeal that proved him to be convinced of the necessity of obtaining
the pardon of his creator.

In tracing the depraved and melancholy course of this ill-
fated man, the humane reader cannot but be struck with the
apparent hollow-heartedness and apathy of his father. It is, no
doubt, difficult to tell the precise degree of provocation Sir
William had received; but we see that young Parsons was
befriended, long after his natural protector had abandoned him, by
an uncle, and several other more distant connexions; and it should
be recollected that, if the child owes affection and patient
forbearance towards its parent, the latter is no less bound to
exercise similar duties towards the being whom he has been
instrumental in bringing into the world. Nothing but the most
hopeless and resolute depravity (if even that) should extinguish a
father's tenderness; and it certainly does not appear to us that the
wretched subject of the preceding narrative had reached that point
at the period of his utter desertion by the baronet. If, at their last
recorded interview, instead of advising his penitent son to enter the
horse-guards as a private (for which purpose, too, he left him
altogether unprovided), Sir William Parsons had extended to him
the feelings of real kindness and reconciliation, it is possible that
his own name might have been saved from ignominy, and the
youthful prodigal (who was then at an age, perhaps, the most
susceptible of moral improvement) restored to his family, to
himself, and to his God.



JOHN CAULFIELD
Murder foretold by a Dream, in consequence of which the
Murderer was apprehended, convicted, and executed at Waterford
in 1751

ONE Adam Rogers, a creditable man, who kept a public-
house at Portlaw, a small village nine or ten miles from Waterford,
in Ireland, dreamed one night that he saw two men at a particular
green spot on an adjacent mountain; one of them a sickly-looking
man, the other remarkably strong and large. He then fancied that
he saw the little man murder the other, and he awoke in great
agitation. The circumstances of the dream were so distinct and
forcible that he continued much affected by them. He related them
to his wife and also to several neighbours next morning.
 	After some time he went out coursing with greyhounds,
accompanied, amongst others, by one Mr Browne, the Roman
Catholic priest of the parish. He soon stopped at the above-
mentioned particular green spot on the mountain, and, calling to
Mr Browne, pointed it out to him, and told him what had appeared
in his dream. During the remainder of the day he thought little
more about it. Next morning he was extremely startled at seeing
two strangers enter his house about eleven o'clock in the forenoon.
He immediately ran into an inner room, and desired his wife to
take particular notice, for they were precisely the two men whom
he had seen in his dream.

When they had consulted with one another, their
apprehensions were alarmed for the little weakly man, though
contrary to the appearance in the dream. After the strangers had
taken some refreshment and were about to depart, in order to
prosecute their journey, Rogers earnestly endeavoured to dissuade
the little man from quitting his house and going on with his fellow-
traveller. He assured him that if he would remain with him that day
he would accompany him to Carrick next morning, that being the
town to which the travellers were proceeding. He was unwilling
and ashamed to tell the cause of his being so solicitous to separate
him from his companion. But as he observed that Hickey, which
was the name of the little man, seemed to be quiet and gentle in his
deportment, and had money about him, and that the other had a
ferocious bad countenance, the dream still recurred to him. He
dreaded that something fatal would happen, and he wished, at all
events, to keep them asunder. However, the humane precautions of
Rogers proved ineffectual; for John Caulfield -- the other's name --
prevailed upon Hickey to continue with him on their way to
Carrick, declaring that, as they had long travelled together, they
should not part, but remain together until he should see Hickey
safely arrive at the habitation of his friends. The wife of Rogers
was much dissatisfied when she found they were gone, and blamed
her husband exceedingly for not being absolutely peremptory in
detaining Hickey.

About an hour after they left Portlaw, in a lonely part of the
mountain, just near the place observed by Rogers in his dream,
Caulfield took the opportunity of murdering his companion. It
appeared afterwards, from his own account of the horrid
transaction, that as they were getting over a ditch he struck Hickey
on the back part of his head with a stone, and when he fell down
into the trench, in consequence of the blow, Caulfield gave him
several stabs with a knife, and cut his throat so deeply that the head
was almost severed from the body. He then rifled Hickey's pockets
of all the money in them, took part of his clothes, and everything
else of value about him, and afterwards proceeded on his way to
Carrick. He had not been long gone when the body, still warm, was
discovered by some labourers who were returning to their work
from dinner.

The report of the murder soon reached Portlaw. Rogers and
his wife went to the place, and instantly knew the body of him
whom they had in vain endeavoured to dissuade from going on
with his treacherous companion. They at once spoke out their
suspicions that the murder was perpetrated by the fellow-traveller
of the deceased. An immediate search was made, and Caulfield
was apprehended at Waterford the second day after. He was
brought to trial at the ensuing assizes and convicted of the fact. It
appeared on the trial, amongst other circumstances, that when he
arrived at Carrick he hired a horse and a boy to conduct him, not
by the usual road, but by that which runs on the north side of the
River Suir, to Waterford, intending to take his passage in the first
ship from thence to Newfoundland. The boy took notice of some
blood on his shirt, and Caulfield gave him half-a-crown to promise
not to speak of it. Rogers proved not only that Hickey was seen last
in company with Caulfield, but that a pair of new shoes which
Hickey wore had been found on the feet of Caulfield when he was
apprehended; and that a pair of old shoes which he had on at
Rogers's house were upon Hickey's feet when the body was found.
He described with great exactness every article of their clothes.
Caulfield, on cross-examination, shrewdly asked him from the
dock whether it was not very extraordinary that he, who kept a
public-house, should take such particular notice of the dress of a
stranger accidentally calling there. Rogers, in his answer, said he
had a very particular reason, but was ashamed to mention it. The
Court and prisoner insisting on his declaring it, he gave a
circumstantial narrative of his dream, called upon Mr Browne, the
priest, who was then in the court, to corroborate his testimony, and
said that his wife had severely reproached him for permitting
Hickey to leave their house when he knew that in the short footway
to Carrick they must necessarily pass by the green spot in the
mountain which had appeared in his dream. A number of witnesses
came forward; and the proofs were so strong that the jury, without
hesitation, found the panel guilty. It was remarked as a singularity
that he happened to be tried and sentenced by his namesake, Sir
George Caulfield, at that time Lord Chief Justice of the King's
Bench, which office he resigned in the summer of the year 1760.

After sentence Caulfield confessed the fact. It came out that
Hickey had been in the West Indies two-and-twenty years, but
falling into a bad state of health he was returning to his native
country, Ireland, bringing with him some money his industry had
acquired. The vessel on board which he took his passage was, by
stress of weather, driven into Minch Head. He there met with
Frederick Caulfield, an Irish sailor, who was poor, and much
distressed for clothes and common necessaries. Hickey,
compassionating his poverty, and finding he was his countryman,
relieved his wants, and an intimacy commenced between them.
They agreed to go to Ireland together. And it was remarked that on
their passage Caulfield spoke contemptuously, and often said it
was a pity such a puny fellow as Hickey should have money and
he himself be without a shilling. They landed at Waterford, at
which place they stayed some days, Caulfield being all the time
supported by Hickey, who bought there some clothes for him.

Caulfield walked to the gallows with a firm step and
undaunted countenance, being executed at Waterford in 1751.



THOMAS COLLEY
Executed 24th of April, 1751, for the Murder of People who were
reputed to be possessed of Witchcraft

ON the 18th of April, 1751, a man named Nichols went to
William Dell, the crier of Hemel Hempstead, in Hertfordshire, and
delivered to him a piece of paper, with fourpence, to cry the words
which were written on the paper, a copy of which is as follows:--

"This is to give notice that on Monday next a man and a
woman are to be publicly ducked at Tring, in this county, for their
wicked crimes."

This notice was given at Winslow and Leighton Buzzard,
as well as at Hemel Hempstead, on the respective market-days, and
was heard by Mr Barton, overseer of the parish of Tring, who,
being informed that the persons intended to be ducked were John
Osborne and Ruth, his wife, and having no doubt of the good
character of both the parties, sent them to the workhouse as a
protection from the rage of the mob.

On the day appointed for the practice of the infernal
ceremony an immense number of people, supposed to be not fewer
than five thousand, assembled near the workhouse at Tring,
vowing revenge against Osborne and his wife, as a wizard and
witch, and demanding that they should be delivered up to their
fury: they likewise pulled down a wall belonging to the
workhouse, and broke the windows and their frames.

On the preceding evening the master of the workhouse,
suspecting some violence, from what he had heard of the
disposition of the people, sent Osborne and his wife to the vestry-
room belonging to the church, as a place the most likely to secure
them from insult.

The mob would not give credit to the master of the
workhouse that the parties were removed, but rushing into the
house searched it through, examining the closets, boxes, trunks,
and even the salt-box, in search of them. There being a hole in the
ceiling which appeared to have been left by the plasterers, Colley,
who was one of the most active of the gang, cried out: "Let us
search the ceiling." This being done by Charles Young, with as
little success as before, they swore they would pull down the house
and set fire to the whole town of Tring unless Osborne and his wife
were produced.

The master of the workhouse, apprehensive that they would
carry their threats into execution, informed them where the poor
people were concealed; on which the whole mob, with Colley at
their head, went to the church and brought them off in triumph.

This being done, the mob conducted them to a pond called
Marlston Mere, where the man and woman were separately tied up
in a cloth; then a rope was bound round the body of the woman,
under her armpits, and two men dragged her into the pond and
through it several times, Colley going into the pond and, with a
stick, turning her from side to side.

Having ducked her repeatedly in this manner, they placed
her by the side of the pond and dragged the old man in and ducked
him; then he was put by, and the woman ducked again as before,
Colley making the same use of his stick. With this cruelty the
husband was treated twice over and the wife three times, during the
last of which the cloth in which she was wrapped came off and she
appeared quite naked.

Not satisfied with this barbarity, Colley pushed his stick
against her breast. The poor woman attempted to lay hold of it, but,
her strength being now exhausted, she expired on the spot. Then
Colley went round the pond collecting money of the populace for
the sport he had shown them in ducking the old witch, as he called
her.

Colley was taken into custody, and when his trial came on,
there being a variety of strong proofs of the prisoner's guilt, he was
convicted, and received sentence of death.

The day before his execution he was removed from the jail
of Hertford, under the escort of one hundred men of the Oxford
Blues, commanded by seven officers, and being lodged in the jail
of St Albans was put in a chaise at five o'clock the next morning,
with the hangman, and reached the place of execution about
eleven, where his wife and daughter came to take leave of him; and
the minister of Tring assisted him in his last moments, when he
died exhibiting all the marks of unfeigned penitence.

His body was hung in chains at a place called Gubblecut,
near where the offence was committed.

Still more surprising it is to find that the dangerous
absurdity of the belief in witchcraft was manifested in England in
the beginning of the more enlightened nineteenth century. Two
ignorant and deluded people, H. Ibbelson and his wife, were
committed to Wakefield House of Correction for violently
assaulting and wounding E. Berry, their niece, who had been lately
married.

These ignorant people, having conceived the idea that the
young woman had bewitched them, formed a plan to draw blood
from her, in order to dispel the charm; and meeting with her in the
market-place they both suddenly assailed her, the woman biting
and scratching her, while the husband stabbed her in the body.


THOMAS QUIN, JOSEPH DOWDELL, AND THOMAS TALBOT
A Gang of Notorious Thieves, executed at Tyburn, June 17, 1751, for
robbery.

"At length these miserable robbers see,
Unhappy fruit, suspended on the tree;
They teach, sad lesson! in their wretched state,
That shame and ruin are the villain's fate; 
And that too late each guilty man will find, 
Justice, though sometimes slow, is never blind."

 THE villains disclosed in this narrative, will shew the necessity
of the act of parliament for inflicting punishment on masters and
mistresses giving a false character. of a servant.

 A corrupt servant is the most dangerous inmate of a house; and
therefore too much caution cannot be used in admitting such domestics.

 Quin, a murderer in his own country, Ireland, was recommended to
London as a youth of good morals; while his disposition was base to a
great degree.

 Dowdell, who in his apprenticeship had injured his first master,
procured a recommendation to another, to whom he also proved a villain.

 Talbot, the third of this dangerous gang, after having robbed on
the highway; and being afraid of apprehension; applied to be restored
to honest servitude, and was refused; but his master, in pity to his
distresses, recommended, him to a nobleman.

 Talbot, on the first opportunity, robbing his noble employer, we
would ask whether the late master, knowing the servant to have been a
thief, was not, in recommending him to an honest employ, virtually, the
greater villain of the two? In fine, they were all from early youth,
delinquents; and each had been imposed on honest people by those who
knew them to be such. No wonder, then, that they will be found thereof
the greatest rascals in this calendar of crimes.

 Quin was a native of Dublin, the son of honest, but poor parents;
and his father dying while he was a child, his uncle put him to school,
and afterwards placed him apprentice to a buckle-maker, with whom be
served three years faithfully; but his friends supplying him with
clothes too genteel for his rank in life, he began to associate with
gay company, and was guilty of many irregularities.

 These thoughtless youths were frequently concerned in riots, and
Quin was considered as the head of the party. In one of these nocturnal
insurrections, Quin murdered a man, whose friends, watching him to his
master's house, desired that he might be delivered up to justice; but
some of the journeymen sallying forth with offensive weapons, drove off
the people; on which a warrant was issued for apprehending the
murderer, when his master advised him to depart for England.

 A subscription for his use being raised by his friends, he came
to London, having recommendations to some gentlemen in that city; but
of these he made no use, for, frequenting the purlieus of St. Giles's,
he spent his money among the lowest of his countrymen, and then entered
on board a man of war.

 After a service of six months, he quitted the ship at Leghorn,
and sailed in another vessel to Jamaica, where he received his wages,
which he soon spent. He now agreed to work his passage to England, and
the ship arriving in the port of London, he took lodgings in St.
Giles's, and soon afterwards became acquainted with Dowdell and Talbot,
of whom we are now to give an account.

 Dowdell was the son of a bookbinder in Dublin, who being in low
circumstances was unable to educate his children as he could have
wished. His son Joseph, who was remarkable for the badness of his
disposition, he 'prenticed to a breeches-maker, but the graceless youth
grew weary of his place before he had served two years of his time.

 Dowdell being ordered by his master to take proper care of some
green leather, particularly to defend it from the snow; instead
thereof, he heaped such quantities of snow and ice on it, that it was
greatly reduced in value. This circumstance so exasperated his master,
that he was glad to get rid of him by delivering up his indentures of
apprenticeship.

 Thus at large, and the father ill able to support him, he was
recommended to the service of a gentleman in the country, with whom he
might have lived happily: but he behaved badly in his place, and 
running away to Dublin, commenced pickpocket.

 After some practice in this way, he became connected with a gang
of housebreakers, in company with whom he committed several
depredations in Dublin. Having broke open a gentleman's house, he was
opposed by the servants, and effected his escape only by the use he
made of a hanger; soon after which he was taken by the watchmen, and
being carried before a magistrate, he was committed to prison till the
next morning, His person was advertised, and he was brought to trial,
but none of the servants being able to swear to him, he was acquitted
for want of evidence.

 He now renewed his dangerous practices, and committed a variety
of robberies. The following is one of the most singular of his
exploits. Going to the house of a farmer, near Dublin, he pretended to
be a citizen who wanted a lodging, for the benefit of his health, and
he would pay a liberal price.

 The unsuspecting farmer put his lodger into the best chamber, and
supplied his table in the most ample manner. After a residence of ten
days, he asked the farmer's company to the town of Finglass, where he
wanted to purchase some necessaries. The farmer attending him; Dowdell
purchased some articles at different shops, till seeing a quantity of
gold in a till, he formed a resolution of appropriating it to his own
use.
Having returned home with the farmer, Dowdell pretended to recollect
that he had omitted to purchase some medicines, which he must take that
night, and which had occasioned his going to Finglass. Hereupon the
farmer ordered a horse to be saddled, and Dowdell set forwards, on a
promise to return before night. On his arrival at Finglass he put up
his horse, and stealing stealing unperceived into the shop above-
mentioned, he stole the till with the money, and immediately set out
for Dublin.

 In the interim, the farmer missing his lodger, went to Finglass,
and not finding him there, proceeded to Dublin, where he chanced to put
up his horse at the same inn where Dowdell had taken up his quarters.

 In a short time he saw our adventurer with some dealers, to whom
he would have sold the horse; on which the farmer procured a constable,
seized the offender, and lodged him in prison.

 For this presumed robbery (a real one, doubtless, in the
intention) he was brought to trial; but it appearing that the farmer
had intrusted him with the horse, he could be convicted of nothing more
than a fraud, for which he received sentence of transportation.

 The vessel in which he sailed being overtaken by a storm, was
dashed on the rocks of Cumberland, and many lives were lost, but
several, among whom was Dowdell, swam on shore, and went to Whitehaven,
where the inhabitants contributed liberally to their relief. Dowdell
travelling to Liverpool, entered on board a privateer, which soon took
several prizes, for which he received 60l. to his share, which he soon
squandered in the most thoughtless extravagance. Being reduced to
poverty, he robbed a Portuguese gentleman; for which he was
apprehended, but afterwards released on the intercession of the
gentlemen of the English factory; on which he sailed for England, and
arrived at London.

 He had not been long in the metropolis, before he associated with
a gang of pickpockets and street-robbers (among whom was one Carter),
whose practice it was to commit depredations at the doors of the
theatres. Dowdell had not long entered into this association, before he
and Carter went under the piazzas in Covent-garden, where the latter
demanded a gentleman's money, while Dowdell watched at a little
distance, to give notice in case of a surprise. While Carter was
examining the gentleman's pockets, he drew his sword and killed the
robber on the spot, and a mob gathering at the instant, it was with
great difficulty that Dowdell effected his escape.

 He now went to the lodgings of a woman of ill fame, who having
been heretofore kept by a man of rank, he had given her a gold watch
and some trifling jewels, which Dowdell advised her to pawn, to raise
him ready money.

 The girl hesitating to comply, he beat her in a most violent
manner, on which she swore the peace against him; whereupon he was
lodged in Newgate, but discharged at the next sessions, no prosecution
being commenced against him.

 He was no sooner at large, than he made a connexion with a woman
of the town, whom an officer had taken to Gibraltar, and during her
residence with him she had saved a hundred moidores. Dowdell having
possessed himself of this sum, soon spent it extravagantly, and then
prevailed on her to pawn her clothes for his support.

 Talbot was the son of poor parents, who lived in Wapping, and
having received a common education, he engaged himself as the driver of
a post-chaise, in the service of a stable-keeper in Piccadilly. While
he was driving two gentlemen on the Bath road, a highwayman stopped the
carriage, and robbed them of their watches and money.

 This circumstance gave Talbot an idea of acquiring money by
illicit means; wherefore, on his return to London, he made himself
acquainted with some highwaymen, assuring them that he was properly
qualified to give them the intelligence necessary for the successful
management of their business.

 His proposal met with a ready acceptance; and a company having
soon afterwards hired a coach and six of his master to go to Bath,
Talbot gave one of the highwaymen notice of the affair; and it was
resolved that the robbery should be committed on Hounslow-heath.

 The highwaymen meeting the carriage on the appointed spot, robbed
the parties of all they had, so that they were obliged to return to
London for money before they could pursue their journey. Talbot's share
of this ill-gotten booty amounted to fifty pounds, which gave him such
spirits that he resolved to pursue the same iniquitous mode of living.

 In consequence of this resolution, Talbot informed the highwayman
of some company going to Bath, and he attempted to rob them, but a
gentleman in the carriage shot him dead on the spot.

 Mortified at this accident which had befel his friend, Talbot no
sooner arrived in London than he determined to resign his employment,
and commence robber on his own account; but previous to engaging in
this business, he spent his ready money in the worst company.

 After several attempts to commit robberies, and having narrowly
escaped the hands of justice, he grew sick of his employment, and
requested his former master to take him into his service. This he
declined, but in pity to his distress, recommended him to a nobleman,
in whose family he was engaged.

 Talbot had been but a short time in his new place, before he
robbed the house of several articles of value, which he sold to the
Jews, to supply the extravagance of one of the maid servants, with whom
he had an amour.

 This theft was not discovered at the time; but Talbot was soon
discharged from his place, in consequence of the badness of his temper,
which rendered him insupportable to his fellow servants.

 On his dismission he spent his ready money with the most
abandoned company, and then commencing housebreaker, committed a
variety of depredations in the neighbourhood of London; for one of
which he was apprehended and brought to trial at the Old Bailey, but
acquitted for want of evidence.

 On the very evening he was acquitted, he stopped a carriage in
Drury-lane, and robbed a gentleman of his money, which he soon spent
among the most dissolute of both sexes; and within a week afterwards,
he broke into a house in Westminster, where he obtained plate and cash
to a large amount, but was not apprehended for this offence.

 In a few days he was taken into custody for picking a gentleman's
pocket, brought to trial, at the Old Bailey, sentenced to be
transported for seven years, shipped to America, and sold to slavery.

 He had not been long in this situation, when he embarked at
Boston, in New England, on board a privateer; but when at sea he
entered into a conspiracy with some of the sailors, to murder the
officers, and seize the vessel; but the confederacy being discovered in
time, a severe punishment was inflicted on Talbot and the other
villains.

 Talbot, quitting the privateer, sailed to England in a man of
war, and engaging with some street-robbers in London, was apprehended,
convicted, and sentenced to die: but he found interest to obtain a
pardon on condition of transportation.

 However, he had not been long abroad before he returned, in
company with an abandoned woman, who had been transported at the same
time; and this woman introduced him to the acquaintance of Quin and
Dowdell, in company with whom he committed a considerable number of
robberies.

 These accomplices robbed six coaches one evening, and obtained
considerable plunder; but this being soon spent in extravagance, they
at length embarked in a robbery which cost them their lives.

 Having made a connexion with one Cullen, they all joined in a
street-robbery, and stopping a coach near Long Acre, robbed a gentleman
of his watch and money. Some people being informed of the affair,
immediately pursued them; and Cullen, being taken into custody, was
admitted an evidence against his accomplices, who were apprehended on
the following day.

 Being brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey,
they received sentence of death; but, after conviction, seemed as
little sensible of the enormity of their crimes, as almost any
offenders whose cases we have had occasion to record.
Dowdell and Quin were Roman Catholics; and Talbot refusing to join in
devotion with the ordinary of Newgate, at the place of execution, we
can say nothing of the disposition of mind in which they left this
world.

 We would have wished the following exclamation the mouths of
these miserable sinners, at the time they made their dying atonements

"O omnipotent Creator! Such hellish deeds 
My soul abhors. O Lord! behold my frame,
My inmost frame, and cleanse my sinful thoughts
Then ever guide me in thy perfect way,
The way established to eternal bliss?'

 These men died, we fear, unrepenting sinners.



WILLIAM DELLICOT
Convicted of Petty Larceny, in July, 1751, and his Estate forfeited
for stealing a Penny

WILLIAM DELLICOT was convicted at the Quarter
Sessions, July, 1751, for Salisbury (Wiltshire), of petty larceny, for
stealing one penny, whereby his effects, consisting of bank-notes
of one hundred and eighty pounds and twenty guineas in money,
were forfeited to the bishop as lord of the manor; but his lordship
humanely ordered one hundred pounds of the money to be put to
interest for the benefit of the wretch's daughter, twenty pounds to
be given to his aged father, and the remainder to be returned to the
delinquent himself.

Thus have we shown the punishment for stealing a single
penny. Now then let us look at that of a public defaulter, to the
amount of thousands and tens of thousands of pounds. The
following, taken from the term's notes, is the sentence passed upon
this wholesale peculator:--

"In the Court of King's Bench, on the 19th of June, 1809,
Valentine Jones, Esq., late Commissary-General in the West
Indies, was brought up to receive the judgment of the Court,
having been found guilty of fraud and peculation, to the amount of
eighty-seven thousand one hundred and seventy-nine pounds,
being but a moiety of the sum of which the country had been
defrauded by his collusion with Mr Mathew Higgins. Judge Gross,
after commenting upon the enormity of the offence, said that
whatever other proceedings might be instituted, it was the duty of
the Court to pass such sentence as would be likely to prevent future
peculation, and therefore adjudged him to be imprisoned three
years in his Majesty's jail of Newgate, and be incapacitated from
serving his Majesty in future."


THE QUIBBLING THIEF.
Who stole a goose, and saved himself by a pun

 A poor pun will sometimes answer a good purpose. A baker once
calling upon Mr. Justice Jones, of Coventry, with the last loaf in his
basket, was observed, as he returned through the Court-yard, to lay
hold of a fat goose, on which his worship, who was at one of the upper
windows, bawled out, Baker	! Baker! Baker! The varlet took no
notice, but trudged off with his prize. When the Justice, in the
afternoon went to his house, and asked him how he could have the
villainous impudence to take the goose? "God bless your worship,"
returned he, "I only did as you. commanded, -- you bid me bake her, and
I did so, and thank your worship's health at the eating of her." -- "
'Tis a poor pun, said the justice, but it shall make thy peace; -- but
beware, lest the next GOOSE you steal, brings down the LAW upon you,
hissing hot."


WILLIAM CHANDLER
A singularly artful villain, transported in the year 1751, for.
perjury.

 THE scheme laid by this man for the purpose of plunder, in art
and consummate hypocrisy, had not been equalled by any of his
fraternity. His plan was to rob a whole county. Every robbery
committed, the hundred where it happens, or the county at large, are
responsible for the amount of the loss which the injured, in certain
cases, may sustain. In his attempt at this kind of fraud, he implicated
three innocent men, by whom he pretended to have been robbed, and
which, had his tale met credit, would have consequently affected their
lives. Happily his diabolical attempt was frustrated, and we are almost
led to regret that the utmost vengeance of the law could not overtake
him.

 There is a palpable contradiction between the laws and the
natural sentiments of mankind in the case of oaths which are
administered to a criminal to make him speak the truth, when the
contrary is his greatest interest; as if a man could think himself
obliged to contribute to his own destruction, and as if, when interest
speaks, religion is not generally silent: religion, which in all ages
hath, of all other things, been most commonly abused. And indeed, upon
what motive should it be respected by the wicked, when it has been thus
violated by those who were esteemed the wisest of men? The motives
which religion opposes to the fear of impending evil and the love of
life are too weak, as they are too distant, to make any impression on
the senses. The affairs of the other world are regulated by laws
entirely different from those by which human affairs are directed; why
then should you endeavour to compromise matters between them? why
should a man, be reduced to the terrible alternative either of
offending God, or of contributing to his own immediate destruction? The
laws which require an oath in such a case, leave him only' the choice
of becoming a bad Christian or a martyr. For this reason, oaths become,
by degrees, a mere formality, and all sentiments of religion, perhaps
the only motive of honesty in the greatest part of mankind, are
destroyed. Experience proves their inutility. I appeal to every judge
whether he has ever known that an oath alone has brought truth from the
lips of a criminal? and reason tells us it must be so; for all laws are
useless, and in consequence destructive, which contradict the natural
feelings of mankind. Such laws are like a dike, opposed directly to the
course of a torrent; it is either immediately overwhelmed, or by a
whirlpool formed by itself, it is gradually undermined and destroyed.

 Perjury is an offence particularly prevalent among the inferior
ranks in society; it is to be attributed in no small degree to the want
of proper solemnity, and previous explanation on the administration of
oaths. Nothing can exceed the unimpressive and careless manner which is
in practice in calling upon witnesses to make this solemn appeal to the
Supreme Being. It would seem highly necessary that all oaths should he
administered in the most impressive manner by the judge, and that a
form should be devised, calculated, in the greatest possible degree, to
impress upon the mind of the party a high sense of the obligation he or
she has come under to speak the truth.

 On the whole, it may be asserted that nothing could tend to
improve the police of the country and the metropolis more than a
general revision of the laws respecting misdemeanors, and particularly
the act of the 17 Geo. II. cap. 5, and subsequent acts respecting
vagrants and rogues, and vagabonds; so as to assimilate them in a
greater degree to the present state of society, and to render their
execution more certain and beneficial to the community.

 The Irish formerly used to swear BY THE HAND. This mode of taking
an oath they, perhaps, adopted from the Prophet Isaiah, ch. lxii, v. 8.
"The Lord hath sworn by his right hand, and by the arm of his
strength."

 If Virgil had suffered Mezentius to swear, who could say "Dextra
mihi Deus," Æn. x. 773, it would have been, no doubt, by his HAND.

 Dean Swift, who was an Irishman, has exemplified this oath of his
countrymen, in his description of an Irish feast

"By my hand you dance rarely"

 William Chandler was the only child of Mr. Thomas Chandler, of
Woodborough, near the Devizes, a gentleman farmer, of two hundred
pounds a year, who at the age of about seventeen, fixed him with Mr.
Banks, clerk of the goldsmiths' company, from whom, by reason of
frequent disputes, he was turned over before two years had passed, to
Mr. Hill of Clifford's Inn, and here he gained the love of his master,
and respect of his clients.

 Chandler, while he was with Mr: Banks, had married the maid
servant, but so artfully concealed it, that it was never suspected by
either of his masters, nor any of his own family; and Mr. Hill having a
long contested lawsuit in hand for the father, the profits of which he
made over to his son, he was enabled to keep his wife in lodgings.
Chandler's clerkship being nearly expired, he had projected a scheme to
double his fortune. This scheme was to get as much money into his hands
as he could possibly raise, to set out with it to the country, upon
some plausible pretence, swear he was robbed of it by the way, and then
sue the hundred. To do this in the ordinary way he knew was hazardous,
and liable to many miscarriages, he therefore laid his plot so deep,
that, as he thought, it should be beyond the reach of human discovery.

 In the first place it was necessary to raise a sum, which could
not be done without deceiving both his father and master; he therefore
told the former that he had an advantageous match in view, and the
latter, that he had a rich uncle in Suffolk, whom he pretended to
visit, and to have received from him several bank bills, which he
shewed to favour the deceit. By these artifices he obtained from his
father, the possession of an estate worth about four hundred pounds,
and accounted to his master for his having five hundred pounds more,
which it does not appear how he acquired.

 He then applied to his master, to advance five hundred pounds
upon his new estate, which, with his other five hundred pounds, he was
going, he said, to lend to one Mrs. Strait, of Salisbury, on an estate
at Enford, within six or seven miles from his father's house, on which
there was a prior mortgage of five hundred pounds, with interest due to
one Mr. Poor, of Enford, who wanted to call in his money.

 Mr. Hill believing his clerk implicitly, even with respect to the
value of his estate, procured the five hundred pounds of one Mr.
Winter. While the mortgage was making, Mr. Chandler went down to Mrs.
Strait and offered to pay Mr. Poor his five hundred pounds and
interest, and to advance to her five hundred pounds more, on the same
estate, which she readily accepted; and though it was now the 14th of
March, 1747, he appointed her to meet him at Enford, on the 25th of the
same month, to receive the money. He then hurried home, and immediately
prepared a proper assignment for Mr. Poor's mortgage, to himself, with
receipts for the thousand pounds, and wrote to Mrs. Strait, not to
forget the day, (March 24, 1748,) appointing ten as the hour of
meeting. Now on the 22d the mortgage of Chandler's own estate to Winter
was executed, and the money paid in three banknotes, which Chandler the
next day changed, at the bank, for eight of fifty pounds, and five of
twenty pounds each, all of the same date, and payable to Henry Taylor.

 On the 24th early, having got most of his cash in small bills, to
the amount of nine hundred pounds, he found, when he came to put these
in canvas bags under his garters; where he  proposed to carry them for
safety, that they made too great a bundle, and therefore he took
several of the small bills, with some cash, amounting to four hundred
and forty pounds, and exchanged them at the bank for two notes, one of
four hundred  pounds, and the other of forty pounds; the first of
which, in his way home, he changed in his master's name at Sir Richard
Hoare's, for one note of two hundred pounds, and two of one hundred
pounds each; but told his master, that the bank clerks were a little
out of humour at the trouble he had already given them, and that he had
changed his small notes with a stranger in the bank-hall for the notes
which he in reality, had received at Sir Richard Hoare's. Mr. Hill, at
Chandler's request, having wrote down the numbers and dates of the
several bills, and seen them put safe up, Chandler took leave of him,
and about twelve o'clock set out.

 About four the same afternoon, though he had ninety miles to go
by ten on the morrow, he had reached no further than Hare-hatch, about
thirty miles from London, where he stopped at Mr. Butler's to refresh,
and about five, just as he had left his inn, was, as he said,
unfortunately met by three bargemen on foot, who, after they had robbed
him of his watch and money, took him to a pit close by the road, and
there stripped him of all his bank notes, bound his hands and feet, and 
left him, threatening to return and shoot him, if he made the least
noise. In this woeful condition he lay three hours, though the pit was
so hear the road that not a single horse could pass without his
hearing; yet when night came he could jump, bound as he was, near half
a mile all up hill, till, luckily for his purpose, he met one Avery, a
silly shepherd, who cut the strings, but could give no account what
they were or how fastened.

 The first question Chandler asked Avery after he had unbound him
was, where a constable or tythingman lived; upon which Avery conducted
him to Richard Kelly  the constable's just by, and with him Mr.
Chandler left the notices required by the statutes; with the
description of the persons who robbed him, so exactly, that Mr. Young
of Hare-hatch remembered three such men to have passed by his house
about the very time the robbery was said to have been committed, who
were also seen and known by Mr. Dredge; the mayor of Reading, on
Maidenhead thicket, between four and five the same day. Chandler then
returned to the inn where he had refreshed, and after telling his
deplorable tale, and acquainting his landlord with his intentions of
suing the hundred, he ordered a good supper, with a bowl of punch, and
sat down with as little concern as if nothing had happened.

 Next day Chandler returned to London, acquainted his master with
what had happened, and requested his assistance.

 Mr. Hill gave him the memorandum he had of the numbers, dates,
and sums of the notes, and sent him to the bank to stop payment, but
instead of that he went to Mr. Tufley, a silversmith in Cannon-street,
bought a silver tankard, and in payment changed one of the notes for
one hundred pounds which he received the day before at Sir Richard
Hoare's; and on his return to his master, told him that the bank did no
business that day because the hurry the city was in on account of the
fire in Cornhill, which happened the night before; he therefore went
again next morning, and when came back being asked by Mr. Hill for the
paper on which he had taken down the numbers, &c. he said, he had left
it with the clerks of the bank, who were to stop the notes; but that he
had taken an exact copy of it; which was false, for he had reserved Mr.
Hill's copy, and left another at the bank, in which he had so craftily
altered the numbers and dates of the three notes he received at Sir
Richard Hoare's, amounting to four hundred pounds, as to prevent their
being stopped, and Mr. Hill's remembering the difference. Thus, he
opened a way for getting four hundred pounds into his hands, without
obstruction. But when it appeared that three of the notes had been
falsely described, there having been none such given out by the bank,
and Chandler was questioned by his master about it, and ordered to
bring back the original paper, he made a pretence of going to the bank,
and then brought back word, that the clerks could not find it; and
said, they never kept such papers after they had made an entry.

 On the 26th, he inserted a list of his notes, being fifteen in
all, with their dates and numbers, in the daily papers, offering a
reward of fifty pounds for the recovery of the whole, or in proportion
for any part; and on the afternoon of the same day withdrew his
advertisement in all the daily papers and, took his own written copy
away at each place. And on the 29th of March, 1748, he put the notice of
the robbery and the description of the robbers in the London Gazette,
as the law directs, except that he did not particularize the notes, as
he had done in the other papers.

 On the 12th of May following, he made the proper information
before a justice of the peace; but though Mr. Hill, his master, was
with him, and had undertaken to manage the cause for him, yet he made
the same omission in his information, as in his advertisement in the
London Gazette.

 All things being prepared on the 19th of July, 1748, Chandler
proceeded to try his cause, and after a hearing of twelve hours, by a
special jury at Abingdon assizes, obtained a verdict for nine hundred
and seventy pounds, subject, however, to a case reserved for the
opinion of the Court of Common Pleas, concerning the sufficiency of the
description of the bank notes in the London Gazette, and the
information; which case was afterwards decided in favour of the county.

 In the mean time Chandler, fearing that by what came out upon the
trial, he should soon be suspected, and that he might be arrested by
Mr. Winter, who had now discovered that his mortgage was insufficient,
obtained a protection from Lord Willoughby de Brooke, and gave out that
he was removed into Suffolk, to reside, as he had before pretended,
with his rich uncle; but in reality, he retired to Colchester, where
his brother-in-law, Humphry Smart, had taken an inn, with whom he
entered into co-partnership, and never came publicly to London
afterwards. He was, however, obliged to correspond with his master, on
account of the point of law, which was soon to be argued; and
therefore, to come at his letters Without discovering his place of
abode, he ordered them to be directed, "To Mr. Thomas Chandler, at
Easton, in Suffolk; to be left for him at the Crown at Audley, near
Colchester, in Essex."

 Mr. Hill having written several letters to Mr. Chandler,
pressing, him to come to town, (as the term grew near) and he evading
it by trifling excuses, began to suspect him, even before the point of
law was determined.

 Just before this event, twelve of the notes, of which Mr.
Chandler pretended to be robbed, were all brought to the bank together,
having been bought, October 31, 1748, at Amsterdam, of one John Smith,
by Barent Solomon, a broker, there; and by him transmitted to his kin
Nathan Solomon, a broker, at London. Upon further inquiry, it appeared,
that John Smith, who sold the notes, stayed but a few days in Holland,
that he was seen in company with Mr. Casson, a Holland trader, and came
over in the packet with him; Mr. Casson was then found, and his
description of John Smith answered the person of Chandler, who was then
pressed, by letter, to come to town and face Casson, to remove
suspicion, but he refused.

 And now the scene began to open apace; about this time the very
paper which Chandler left when he stopped payment of the notes at the
bank, was found; which, when Mr. Hill saw, and that it was not his
writing, he quite gave up his clerk, and from that time, assisted in
the prosecution. By means of the bank books, they traced every
circumstance that has been related of his taking out the 400l. note;
afterwards changing it at Sir Richard Hoare, for three lesser notes,
his passing these notes, and by whom received; and even his buying the
tankard of Tufley; which tankard was afterwards produced in evidence
against him. All that now remained was to come at his person; and with
this view, Mr. Wise, Mr. Hill, and Mr. Casson, about Midsummer, 1749,
set out for Colchester, from thence went to the Crown, at Audley, and
there inquiring for Easton, were directed first to one place, and then
to another of that name; and after a fruitless journey of one hundred
and fifty miles, they returned to the very inn then kept by Chandler at
Colchester, and departed for London, without gaining any intelligence.

 Chandler, who himself saw them at his house, immediately sold his
goods, and: took a small inn at Coventry, where, though one hundred and
fifty miles from Colchester, and ninety-one miles from London, he was
still apprehensive of being arrested by Mr. Winter; and therefore he
sent a draft to Mr. Gauntlet, a linen-draper of his acquaintance, for
one hundred and fifty pounds to be paid to Mr. Hill, and by him to Mr.
Winter. This draft he procured at Northampton, and there put it into
the post. By the post-mark of this letter he was at length traced to
his new habitation at Coventry, where an indictment for perjury having
been found against him; he was apprehended by a judge's warrant, and
detained in gaol there, till by an habeas corpus he was removed to
Reading, in order to take his trial at Abingdon assizes, on the 22d of
July, 1750. But though the prosecutors were ready, with their
Witnesses, at a vast expense, yet he traversed the indictment, as by
law he might, and put off his trial, to the Lent assizes held at
Reading; where the facts, already related being proved, he was
sentenced to stand on the pillory the then market-day, and to be
transported for seven years. But the former part of this sentence was
changed by the judge into three month's imprisonment, for fear the
populace, who were greatly enraged, should kill him

 [This prosecution produced two acts of parliament, one for
remedying inconveniencies that may happen proceedings in actions on the
statue of Hue and Cry, and the other to render prosecutions for perjury
and subornation of perjury more easy and effectual.]



JAMES WELCH AND THOMAS JONES
Executed on Kennington Common, 6th of September, 1751, for
Murder.
WE come to execute the task of proving the innocence of Richard
Coleman, who, our readers will recollect, suffered death for the
murder of Sarah Green.

Two years had passed since Coleman had been
ignominiously laid in his grave before his memory was rescued
from disgrace. Circumstances then, and not before, arose which
proved that James Welch, Thomas Jones and John Nichols (the
latter of whom was admitted as evidence for the Crown)
committed this abhorred murder; and the discovery without a
search, so inscrutable are the ways of Providence, was thus
effected:

Welch, one of the murderers, and a young fellow named
James Bush, while walking on the road to Newington Butts, their
conversation happened to turn on the subject of those who had
been executed without being guilty; and Welch said: "Among
whom was Coleman. Nichols, Jones and I were the persons who
committed the murder for which he was hanged." In the course of
conversation Welch owned that, having been at a public-house
called Sot's Hole, they had drunk plentifully, and on their return
through Kennington Lane they met with a woman, with whom they
went as far as the Parsonage Walk, near the churchyard of
Newington where she was so horridly abused by Nichols and Jones
that Welch declined offering her any further insult.

Bush did not at that time appear to pay any particular
attention to what he had heard, but soon afterwards, as he was
crossing London Bridge with his father, he addressed him as
follows: "Father, I have been extremely ill; and as I am afraid I
shall not live long, I should be glad to reveal something that lies
heavy on my mind."

Thereupon they went to a public-house in the Borough,
where Bush related his story to his father, which was scarcely
ended when, seeing Jones at the window, they called him in and
desired him to drink with them.

He had not been long in their company when they told him
they had heard he was one of the murderers of Sarah Green, on
whose account Coleman had suffered death. Jones trembled and
turned pale on hearing what they said; but soon assuming a degree
of courage said: "What does it signify? The man is hanged and the
woman dead, and nobody can hurt us." To which he added: "We
were connected with a woman, but who can tell that was the
woman Coleman died for?"

In consequence of this acknowledgment Nichols, Jones and
Welch were soon afterwards apprehended, when all of them
steadily denied their guilt; and, the hearsay testimony of Bush
being all that could be adduced against them, Nichols was admitted
evidence for the Crown. In consequence of which all the
particulars of the horrid murder were developed.

The prisoners being brought to trial at the next assizes for
the county of Surrey, Nichols deposed that he, with Welch and
Jones, having been drinking at the house called Sot's Hole on the
night that the woman was used in such an inhuman manner, they
quitted that house in order to return home, when, meeting a
woman, they asked her if she would drink; which she declined
unless they would go to the King's Head, where she would treat
them with a pot of beer.

Thereupon they went and drank both beer and geneva with
her, and then, all the parties going forward to the Parsonage Walk,
the poor woman was treated in a manner too shocking to be
described. It appeared that at the time of the perpetration of the fact
the murderers wore white aprons, and that Jones and Welch called
Nichols by the name of Coleman -- circumstances that evidently
led to the conviction of the unfortunate man of that name.

On the whole state of the evidence there seemed to be no
doubt of the guilt of the prisoners, so that the jury did not hesitate
to convict them, and sentence of death was passed of course.

After conviction these malefactors behaved with the utmost
contrition, being attended by the Rev. Dr Howard, Rector of St
George's, Southwark, to whom they readily confessed their
offences. They likewise signed a declaration, which they begged
might be published, containing the fullest assertion of Coleman's
innocence, and, exclusive of his acknowledgement, Welch wrote to
the brother of Coleman, confessing his guilt, and begging his
prayers and forgiveness. The sister od Jones living in a genteel
family at Richmond, he wrote to her to make interest in his favour;
but the answer he received was, that his crime was of such a
nature, that she could not ask a favour for him with any degree of
propriety. She earnestly begged of him to p[repare for death, and
implore pardon at that tribunal, where alone it could be expected.

They were executed on Kennington Common, on 6th of
September, 1751.



MATHIAS KEYS
Executed on Kennington Common, 6th of September, 1751, for
Highway Robbery

MATHIAS KEYS was the son of an inn-holder of good
repute at Billericay, in Essex, who placed him apprentice to a
vintner; and when his time had expired -- which, however, was not
passed without censure -- placed him in a respectable inn at
Bristol.

The house had long-been well frequented, but Keys,
presuming upon being a "mother's darling," was more addicted to
horse-racing, cocking and gaming than to attending to his guests. It
is therefore little to be wondered at that such men become
bankrupts, and so with him a failure soon happened.

He fled from his creditors, taking with him every portable
valuable he possessed, and came to London. There, among other
profligate young fellows, he became intimate with one William
Russel, then an unworthy articled clerk to an attorney of good
practice in Air Street, Piccadilly. In company with this reprobate
he committed divers highway robberies; but the career of Russel
was very short, for he was hanged ere he had attained manhood.

In the month of August, 1747, Keys was apprehended for a
highway robbery, was tried, and condemned to death at
Chelmsford; but no other crimes being then alleged against him,
though he had committed many, his sentence was remitted on
condition of transporting himself for life.

On the 14th of November, 1747, he entered on board a
man-of-war, on the point of sailing to the East Indies, under
Admiral Boscwan, and performed his duty with much bravery at
the siege of Pondicherry, where he lost an eye. With his ship he
returned to England, and immediately again commenced
highwayman.

He committed a daring robbery on two gentlemen in a post-
chaise, in the vicinity of London, who had pistols with them, but
were taken with too much surprise to be able to use them. No
sooner however had he ridden off with his booty than, with the
assistance of the post-boy, they quickly unyoked the horses and
galloped after him.

Unapprehensive of pursuit he was riding at a moderate
pace, waiting to levy his contributions on the next travellers. They
seized him, in their turn, before he could make resistance, brought
him to London, and prosecuted and convicted him, having found
the money upon him of which but a few minutes before he had
robbed them. He was hanged on Kennington Common, on 6th of
September, 1751.



WILLIAM BAKER
A City Merchant, executed at Tyburn, 31st of December, 1751, for
forging an East India Warrant in order to avoid Bankruptcy

WILLIAM BAKER was born in Cannon Street, where his
father kept a baker's shop, and lived in good reputation. The youth
was educated at the Merchant Taylors' School, and at the usual age
bound apprentice to a grocer in a considerable way of business;
and he proved so faithful and diligent a servant that soon after the
time of his apprenticeship had expired his master admitted him an
equal partner in his trade.

Having carried on the grocery trade for about seven years,
he declined that business and connected himself in partnership
with Mr Carter, a sugar-baker, and by this new undertaking he
flattered himself in the expectation of speedily acquiring a fortune.

About the period of his commencing as sugar-baker he
married one of his cousins, who was the daughter of a clergyman
in Northamptonshire, and with her he received a handsome
fortune. For several years he fulfilled all his engagements with the
greatest punctuality, and was supposed to be possessed of
considerable property.

He attended the sales of the East India Company's goods,
and frequently purchased very large quantities of teas, and he had
extensive dealings in other articles. But he often sustained
considerable loss by the sale of his goods, and his circumstances at
length became so embarrassed that he was under apprehension that
a commission of bankruptcy would issue against him.

He flattered himself, however, that, if he could support his
credit for a short time, matters would take a more favourable turn
and his circumstances be retrieved. His anxiety to avoid a
bankruptcy induced Mr Baker to forge an East India warrant for
goods to the amount of nine hundred and twenty-two pounds. But
it must be remarked that the forgery was not committed with any
intention to defraud, but merely to raise a supply for present
exigencies.

Mr Baker passed the counterfeit warrant into the hands of
Mr Holland, who sent it to the India House, where the forgery was
detected, and Baker was in consequence apprehended.

Baker being put on his trial at the Old Bailey, several
gentlemen of reputation appeared on his behalf, and spoke to his
character in the most favorable terms; but both the forgery and the
uttering the counterfeit warrant having been proved against him by
indisputable testimony, and strongly corroborating circumstances,
he of course was condemned to suffer death. Being conveyed to
Tyburn in a mourning-coach, he appeared to be in a composed
state of mind, and entirely resigned to his fate.



WILLIAM STROUD
A Notorious Impostor, who was Six Times whipped through the
Streets of Westminster, in the Month of March, 1752

WILLIAM STROUD was well born and educated, but very
early in life took to little tricks of cheating. When but a schoolboy
he used to purloin blank leaves from the books of his companions,
and was remarkable for robbing them of their marbles.

This disposition continued while he was an apprentice; and
at length he embarked in business for himself. But he had not been
long a master before he considered trade as a drudgery; on which
he sold off his stock, took lodgings in Bond Street, and assumed
the character of a fine gentleman.

He now lived in a most expensive manner, supplying the
extravagances of women of ill-fame. This soon reducing him to
indigent circumstances, he fixed on a plan of defrauding
individuals; for which purpose he got credit with a tailor for some
elegant suits of apparel, took a genteel house, and hired some
servants, by which he imposed himself upon the public as a man of
large estate.

An extensive credit and a splendid mode of living were the
consequences of his elegant appearance; but some tradesmen
bringing in bills, which he was equally unable and unwilling to
discharge, he sold off his household furniture and privately
decamped.

He now took handsome lodgings in Bloomsbury, and
dressing himself in velvet clothes he pretended to be the steward of
a nobleman of high rank. He likewise took a house in Westminster,
in which he placed an agent, who ordered in goods as for the
nobleman; and the tradesmen who delivered these goods were
directed to leave their bills for the examination of the steward. But
the effects were no sooner in possession than they were sold to a
broker, to the great loss of the respective tradesmen.

Stroud used to travel into the country in summer, and,
having learned the names of London traders with whom people of
fortune dealt, he used to write in their names for goods; but,
constantly meeting the wagons that conveyed them, generally
received the effects before they reached the places to which they
were directed. London and the country were equally laid under
contribution by him; and jewellers, watchmakers, lacemen, tailors,
drapers, upholders, silversmiths, silk-mercers, hatters, hosiers, etc.,
were frequent dupes to his artifices.

He was at length apprehended as a common cheat, and
committed to the Gatehouse, Westminster. On his examination a
coachmaker charged him with defrauding him of a gilt chariot, a
jeweller of rings to the amount of a hundred pounds, a tailor of a
suit of velvet trimmed with gold, a cabinetmaker of some valuable
goods in his branch, and several other tradesmen of various
articles.

The grand jury having found bills of indictment against
him, he was tried at the Westminster Sessions, when witnesses
who had been duped and plundered by him appeared to give their
evidence; and he was instantly found guilty.

The Court sentenced him to hard labour in Bridewell for six
months, and in that time to be whipped through the streets six
times; which was inflicted with the severity which they intended.
He was scourged so as to be made an example to others in the like
cases offending.



ELIZABETH JEFFRIES AND JOHN SWAN
Deprived of her Uncle's valuable Estate, the Woman and an
Accomplice shot him dead after paying another Man to commit the
Crime.

THE case of these offenders is one of the greatest atrocity.
Elizabeth Jeffries was the niece of a gentleman of respectability
residing at Walthamstow, who, having acquired an ample fortune,
and having no children, adopted his brother's daughter, and made a
will in her favour, bequeathing to her nearly his whole estate. The
girl, however, returned her uncle's kindness with ingratitude; and,
having heard him declare that he would alter his will on account of
her bad behaviour, she determined to prevent his carrying his
design to her detriment into execution by murdering him. She soon
discovered her inability to complete this project single-handed, and
she gained the assistance of her accomplice in the crime, John
Swan, who was in the employment of her uncle, and with whom
there is good reason to believe she was on terms of intimacy. They
endeavoured to suborn a simple fellow named Matthews to assist
them, but although the promise of a large reward at first staggered
him, his terrors eventually steeled him against the temptations held
out to him. The night of the 3rd of July, 1751, was fixed upon for
the completion of this villainy; and at the trial, which took place at
Chelmsford, before Mr Justice Wright, on the iith of March, 1752,
the following facts were proved:--

Matthews, having travelled from Yorkshire, was
accidentally met in Epping Forest by Mr Jeffries, who gave him
employment as an assistant to Swan, who was his gardener. After
he had been at work only four days he was sent upstairs by Miss
Jeffries to wipe a chest of drawers, and she followed him and
asked him if he was willing to earn one hundred pounds. He
answered that he was, "in an honest way" -- on which she desired
him to go to Swan. He accordingly joined him in the garden, and
he offered him seven hundred pounds to murder their master. He
acquiesced. On his being dismissed, two days afterwards, Swan
gave him half-a-guinea to buy a brace of pistols; but having spent
the money given to him he was ordered to meet Miss Jeffries and
Swan at Walthamstow on the Tuesday following, at ten o'clock at
night, the object being then to carry out their intentions with
respect to the murder.

When he arrived he found the garden door on the latch, and
going into the pantry he hid himself behind a tub till about eleven
o'clock, when Swan brought him some cold boiled beef. About
twelve Miss Jeffries and Swan came to him, when the latter said:
"Now it is time to knock the old miser, my master, on the head."
But Matthews relented and said: "I cannot find it in my heart to do
it." Miss Jeffries then immediately replied: "You may be d---d for
a villain, for not performing your promise!" And Swan, who was
provided with pistols, also loudly abused him, and said he had a
mind to blow his brains out for the refusal. Swan then produced a
book, and insisted that Matthews should swear that he would not
discover what had passed; and he did so, with this reserve, "unless
it was to save his own life." Soon after this Matthews heard the
report of a pistol, when, getting out of the house by the back way,
he crossed the ferry and proceeded to Enfield Chase. Immediately
afterwards Miss Jeffries appeared at the door of the house and
called out for assistance, and, some of the neighbours going in,
they found Mr Jeffries dying, but they failed in discovering
anything which could lead to the supposition of any person having
quitted the house. Suspicions in consequence arose, and Miss
Jeffries was taken into custody; but no evidence arising to
incriminate her she was discharged, and immediately administered
on her uncle's estate and took possession of his property.

Renewed suspicions, however, were raised, and, Matthews
having been discovered, Jeffries and Swan were apprehended.
Upon this testimony a verdict of guilty was returned.

After conviction Elizabeth Jeffries made a full confession
of her guilt. On the day of execution the convicts left the prison at
four in the morning, Miss Jeffries being placed in a cart and Swan
on a sledge. The unfortunate woman repeatedly fainted on her way
to the gallows; and, having fallen into a fit, had not recovered
when she was turned off. The execution took place near the sixth
milestone in Epping Forest, on the 28th of March, 1752, and, the
body of Miss Jeffries having been delivered to her friends for
interment, the gibbet was removed to another part of the Forest,
where Swan was hung in chains.



MARY BLANDY
Executed 6th of April, 1752, for murdering her Father at the
Request of her Lover

IT has been a melancholy remark that two young ladies --
Miss Jefferies and Miss Blandy -- well educated, and of
considerable expectations from the parents whom they murdered,
should, as it were, at the same moment contemplate the death of
their protectors.

Yet, though Miss Blandy's crime was committed on blood
nearest in consanguinity, she does not appear to have been that
determined murderess we find in Miss Jefferies.

Public conversation was long divided on their fate, and in
comparisons of their different degrees of crimes.

There is too much reason to fear that both had been
seduced by villainous men: but Miss Jefferies, as will be seen, was
a premeditated and determined murderess. Over the fate of the
wretched Miss Blandy we may indulge somewhat of
commiseration; for the profligate wretch who seduced her was a
disgrace to the noble blood from which he derived existence; and
what renders his crime more heinous was his being a married man.

It will appear that, had not this corrupt twig of the noble
branch of the tree of genealogy from which he grew spread his
insidious snares to entangle the heart and corrupt the mind of Miss
Blandy, she would not have been guilty of the abominable and
unnatural crime of parricide.

In a moral point of view, though the law may not
immediately overtake the villainy, we would appeal to the hearts of
the readers of our own sex -- nay, we would ask the question, in
cooler moments of youth -- "Can there be a more destructive vice
than the seduction of a virtuous female, under promise of
marriage?" Will not your inflamed passions cool? and then what
must be the stings of conscience when you find the too-willing
sacrifice to your lust a wretched creature, neglected by her friends,
the scorn of the virtuous part of her sex, and the prey of your own?

Thus are we led to acknowledge, with sorrow, the lines of
the poet, on a seduced woman:--

"Man, the lawless libertine, may rove,
Free and unquestion'd, thro' the paths of love:
But woman, sense and nature's easy fool --
If poor weak woman swerve from virtue's easy rule --
If, strongly charm'd, she tempt the flow'ry way,
And in the softer paths of pleasure stray --
Ruin ensues, remorse, and endless shame,
And one false step entirely damns her fame:
In vain with tears the loss she may deplore,
In vain look back to what she was before;
She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more."

Mary Blandy was the only daughter of a Mr Francis
Blandy, an eminent attorney at Henley-upon-Thames, and town-
clerk of that place. She had been educated with the utmost
tenderness; and every possible care was taken to impress her mind
with sentiments of virtue and religion. Her person had nothing in it
remarkably engaging, but she was of a sprightly and affable
disposition, of polite man ners, engaging in conversation, and was
much distinguished by her good sense.

She had read the best authors in the English language, and
had a memory remarkably retentive of the knowledge she had
acquired. In a word, she excelled most of her sex in those
accomplishments which are calculated to grace and dignify the
female mind.

The father being reputed to be rich, a number of young
gentlemen courted his acquaintance, with a view to make an
interest with his daughter: but, of all the visitors, none were more
agreeable, both to father and daughter, than the gentlemen of the
army; and the former was never better pleased than when he had
some of them at his table.

Miss Blandy was about twenty-six years of age when she
became acquainted with Captain William Henry Cranstoun, who
was then about forty-six. He was the son of Lord Cranstoun, of an
ancient Scotch family, which had made great alliances, by
intermarriages, with the nobility of Scotland. Being a younger
brother, his uncle, Lord Mark Ker, procured him a commission in
the army, which, with the interest of fifteen hundred pounds, was
all he had for his support.

Cranstoun married a Miss Murray in Scotland, in the year
1745, and received a handsome fortune with her; but he was
defective in the great article of prudence. His wife was delivered of
a son within a year after the marriage. About this period he
received orders to join his regiment in England, and was
afterwards sent on a recruiting party to Henley, which gave rise to
the unhappy connexion which ended so fatally.

It may seem extraordinary, and is, perhaps, a proof of
Cranstoun's art, that he could ingratiate himself into the affections
of Miss Blandy; for his person was diminutive, he was so marked
with the small-pox that his face was in seams, and he squinted very
much: but he possessed that faculty of small-talk which is 
unfortunately too much esteemed by many of the fair sex.

Mr Blandy, who was acquainted with Lord Mark Ker, was
fond of being deemed a man of taste, and so open to flattery, that it
is not to be wondered at that a man of Cranstoun's artifice
ingratiated himself into his favour, and obtained permission to pay
his addresses to the daughter.

Cranstoun, apprehending that Miss Blandy might discover
that he had a wife in Scotland, informed her that he was involved
in a disagreeable lawsuit in that country with a young lady, who
claimed him as a husband; and so sure was he of the interest he had
obtained in Miss Blandy's affections, that he had the confidence to
ask her if she loved him well enough to wait the issue of the affair.
She told him that, if her father and mother approved of her staying
for him, she had no objection.

This must be allowed to have been a very extraordinary
declaration of love, and as extraordinary a reply.

Cranstoun endeavoured to conduct the amour with all 
possible secrecy; notwithstanding which it came to the knowledge
of Lord Mark Ker, who wrote to Mr Blandy, informing him that
the captain had a wife and children in Scotland, and conjuring him
to preserve his daughter from ruin.

Alarmed by this intelligence, Mr Blandy informed his
daughter of it; but she did not seem equally affected, as
Cranstoun's former declaration had prepared her to expect some
such news; and, when the old gentleman taxed Cranstoun with it,
he declared it was only an affair of gallantry, of which he should
have no difficulty to free himself.

Mrs. Blandy appears to have been under as great a degree
of infatuation as her daughter, for she forbore all farther inquiry,
on the captain's bare assurance that the report of his marriage was
false. Cranstoun, however, could not be equally easy. He saw the
necessity of devising some scheme to get his first marriage
annulled, or of bidding adieu to all the gratifications he could
promise himself by a second.

After revolving various schemes in his mind, he at length
wrote his wife, requesting her to disown him for a husband. The
substance of this letter was, that, "having no other way of rising to
preferment but in the army, he had but little ground to expect 
advancement there, while it was known he was encumbered with a
wife and family; but, could he once pass for a single man, he had
not the least doubt of being quickly preferred, which would
procure him a sufficiency to maintain her, as well as himself, in a
genteeler manner than now he was able to do. All, therefore (adds
he), I have to request of you is, that you will transcribe the
enclosed copy of a letter, wherein you disown me for a husband;
put your maiden name to it, and send it by the post: all the use I
shall make of it shall be to procure my advancement, which will
necessarily include your own benefit. In full assurance that you
will comply with my request, I remain, your most affectionate
husband,

"W. H. Cranstoun."

Mrs. Cranstoun, ill as she had been treated by her husband,
and little hope as she had of more generous usage, was, after
repeated letters had passed, induced to give up her claim, and at
length sent him the requested paper, signed Murray, which was her 
maiden name.

The villainous captain, being possessed of this letter, made
some copies of it, which he sent to his wife's relations, and his
own: the consequence of which was that they withdrew the
assistance they had afforded the lady, which reduced her to an
extremity she had never before known.

Exclusive of this, he instituted a suit before the lords of
session, for the dissolution of the marriage; but when Mrs.
Cranstoun was heard, and the letters read, the artful contrivance
was seen through, the marriage was confirmed, and Cranstoun was
adjudged to pay the expenses of the trial.

At the next session Captain Cranstoun preferred a petition,
desiring to be heard by counsel on new evidence, which it was
pretended had arisen respecting Miss Murray. This petition, after
some hesitation, was heard; but the issue was, that the marriage
was again confirmed, and Cranstoun was obliged to allow his wife
a separate maintenance.

Still, however, he paid his addresses to Miss Blandy with
the same fervency as before; which coming to the knowledge of
Mrs. Cranstoun, she sent her the decree of the Court of Session,
establishing the validity of the marriage.

It is reasonable to suppose that this would have convinced
Miss Blandy of the erroneous path in which she was treading. On
this occasion she consulted her mother: and, Cranstoun having set
out for Scotland, the old lady advised her to write to him, to know
the truth of the affair.

Absurd as this advice was, she wrote to him; but, soon after
the receipt of her letter, he returned to Henley, when he had
impudence enough to assert that the cause was not finally
determined, but would be referred to the House of Lords.

Mr Blandy gave very little credit to this assertion; but his
wife assented at once to all Cranstoun said, and treated him with as
much tenderness as if he had been her own child; of which the
following circumstance will afford ample proof.

Mrs. Blandy and her daughter being on a visit to Mrs.
Pocock, of Turville Court, the old lady was taken so ill as to be
obliged to continue there for some days. In the height of her
disorder, which was a violent fever, she cried "Let Cranstoun be
sent for." He was then with the regiment at Southampton; but, her
request being complied with, she no sooner saw him than she
raised herself on the pillow, and hung around his neck repeatedly
exclaiming "(My dear Cranstoun, I am glad you are come; I shall
now grow well soon!" So extravagant was her fondness, that she
insisted on having him as her nurse; and he actually administered
her medicines.

On the following day she grew better; on which she said
"This I owe to you, my dear Cranstoun; your coming has given me
new health and fresh spirits. I was fearful I should die, and you not
here to comfort that poor girl. Flow like death she looks!"

It would be ungenerous to the memory of Mrs. Blandy to
suppose that she saw Cranstoun's guilt in its true light of enormity;
but certainly she was a most egregious dupe to his artifices.

Mrs. Blandy and her daughter having come to London, the
former wanted forty pounds, to discharge a debt she had contracted
unknown to her husband; and Cranstoun coming into the room
while the mother and the daughter were weeping over their
distresses, he demanded the reason of their grief; of which being
informed, he left them, and, soon returning with the requisite sum,
he threw it into the old lady's lap. Charmed by this apparent
generosity, she burst into tears, and squeezed his hand fervently;
on which he embraced her, and said, "Remember, it is a son;
therefore do not make yourself uneasy: you do not lie under any
obligation to me."

Of this debt of forty pounds, ten pounds had been
contracted by the ladies while in London, for expenses in
consequence of their pleasures; and the other thirty by expensive
treats given to Cranstoun at Henley, during Mr Blandy's absence.

Soon after this Mrs. Blandy died; and Cranstoun now
complaining of his fear of being arrested for the forty pounds, the
young lady borrowed that sum, which she gave him, and made him
a present of her watch: so that he was a gainer by his former
apparent generosity.

Mr Blandy began now to show evident dislike of Cap tain
Cranstoun's visits: but he found means to take leave of the
daughter, to whom he complained of the father's ill treatment; but
insinuated that he had a method of conciliating his esteem; and that
when he arrived in Scotland he would send her some powders
proper for the purpose; on which to prevent suspicion, he would
write, "Powders to clean the Scotch pebbles."

It does not appear that the young lady had any idea that the
powders he was to send her were of a poisonous nature. She seems
rather to have been infatuated by her love; and this is the only
excuse that can he made for her subsequent conduct, which
appears otherwise totally inconsistent with that good sense for
which she was celebrated.

Cranstoun sent her the powders, according to promise; and
Mr Blandy being indisposed on the Sunday se'nnight before his
death, Susan Gunnel, a maid-servant, made him some water-gruel,
into which Miss Blandy conveyed some of the powder, and gave it
to her father; and, repeating this draught on the following day, he
was tormented with the most violent pains in his bowels.

When the old gentleman's disorder increased, and he was
attended by a physician, his daughter came into the room, and,
falling on her knees to her father, said, "Banish me where you
please; do with me what you please, so you do but forgive me; and,
as for Cranstoun, I will never see him, speak to him, or write to
him, as long as I live, if you will forgive me."

In reply to this the father said, "I forgive thee, my dear, and
I hope God will forgive thee, but thou shouldst have considered
before thou attemptedst any thing against thy father; thou shouldst
have considered I was thy own father."

Miss Blandy now acknowledged that she had put powder in
his gruel, but that it was for an innocent purpose; on which the
father, turning in his bed, said, "O such a villain! to come to my
house, eat of the best and drink of the best my house could afford;
and, in return, take away my life, and ruin my daughter. O! my
dear, thou must hate that man."

The young lady replied, "Sir, every word you say is like a
sword piercing to my heart; more severe than if you were angry: I
must kneel, and beg you will not curse me." The father said, "I
curse thee my dear! how couldst thou think I would curse thee?
No, I bless thee, and hope God will bless thee, and amend thy life.
Do, my dear, go out of the room; say no more, lest thou shouldst
say any thing to thy own prejudice. Go to thy Uncle Stephens; and
take him for thy friend: poor man! I am sorry for him."

Mr Blandy dying in consequence of his illness, it was
suspected that the daughter had occasioned his death; whereupon
she was taken into custody, and committed to the gaol at Oxford.
She was tried on the 3d of March, 1752; and, after many witnesses
had been called to give evidence of her guilt, she was desired to
make her defence, which she did in the following speech:--

"My lord, -- It is morally impossible for me to lay down the 
hardships I have receivcd. -- I have been aspersed in my character.
In the first place it has been said I spoke ill of my father; that I
have cursed him, and wished him at hell; which is extremely false.
Sometimes little family affairs have happened, and he did not
speak to me so kindly as I could wish. I own I am passionate, my
lord; and in those passions some hasty expressions might have
dropped; but great care has been taken to recollect every word I
have spoken at different times, and to apply them to such particular
purposes as my enemies knew would do me the greatest injury.
These are hardships, my lord, such as yourself must allow to be so.
It was said too, my lord, that I endeavoured to make my escape.
Your lordship will judge from the difficulties I laboured under: -- I
had lost my father; -- I was not permitted to go near him; -- I was
forsaken by my friends -- affronted by the mob -- and insulted by
my servants. -- Although I begged to have the liberty to listen at
the door where he died, I was not allowed it. My keys were taken
from me; my shoe-buckles and garters too -- to prevent me from
making away with myself, as though I was the most abandoned
creature. What could I do, my lord? I verily believe I must have
been out of my senses. When I heard my father was dead, I ran out
of the house, and over the bridge, and had nothing on but a half
sack and petticoats, without a hoop -- my petticoats hanging about
me. The mob gathered round me. Was this a condition, my lord, to
make my escape in? A good woman beyond the bridge, seeing me
in this distress, desired me to walk in till the mob was dispersed:
the town-sergeant was there. I begged he would take me under his
protection, to have me home: the woman said it was not proper, the
mob was very great, and that I had better stay a little. When I came
home they said I used the constable ill. I was locked up for fifteen
hours, with only an old servant of the family to attend me. I was
not allowed a maid for the common decencies of my sex. I was
sent to gaol, and was in hopes there at least this usage would have
ended; but was told it was reported I was frequently drunk; that I
attempted to make my escape; that I did not attend at chapel. A
more abstemious woman, my lord, I believe, does not live.

"Upon the report of my making my escape, the gentleman
who was high-sheriff last year (not the present) came and told me,
by order of the higher powers, he must put an iron on me. I
submitted as I always do, to the higher powers. Some time after he
came again, and said he must put a heavier one upon me; which I
have worn, my lords till I came hither. I asked the sheriff why I
was so ironed. He said he did it by command of some noble peer,
on his hearing that I intended making my escape. I told him I never
had any such thought, and I would bear it with the other cruel
usage I had received on my character. The Reverend Mr Swinton,
the worthy clergyman who attended me in prison, can testify I was
regular at the chapel when ever I was well: sometimes I really was
not able to come out, and then he attended me in my room. They
have likewise published papers and depositions, which ought not to
have been published, in order to represent me as the most
abandoned of my sex, and to prejudice the world against me. I
submit myself to your lordship, and to the worthy jury. I do assure
your lordship, as I am to answer at the great tribunal where I must
appear, I am as innocent as the child unborn of the death of my
father. I would not endeavour to save my life at the expense of
truth: I really thought the powder an innocent inoffensive thing;
and I gave it to procure his love (meaning toward Cranstoun). It
has been mentioned, I should say, I was ruined. My lord, when a
young woman loses her character, is not that her ruin? Why, then,
should this expression be construed in so wide a sense? Is it not
ruining my character to have such a thing laid to my charge? And,
whatever may be the event of this trial, I am ruined most
effectually."

The trial lasted eleven hours, and then the judge summed
up the evidence, mentioning the scandalous behaviour of some
people respecting the prisoner, in printing and publishing what
they called depositions taken before the coroner relating to the
affair before them: to which he added, "I hope you have not seen
them; but, if you have, I must tell you, as you are men of sense and
probity, that you must divest yourselves of every prejudice that can
arise from thence, and attend merely to the evidence that has been
given."

The judge then summed up the evidence with the utmost
candour; and the jury, having considered the affair, found her
guilty without going out of court.

After the conviction she behaved with the utmost decency
and resignation. She was attended by the Reverend Mr Swinton,
from whose hands she received the sacrament on the day before
her execution, declaring that she did not know there was anything
hurtful in the powders she had given her father.

The night before her death she spent in devotion; and at
nine in the morning of the 6th of April, 1752, she left her
apartment, being dressed in a black bombasin, and having her arms
bound with black ribands.

The clergyman attended her to the place of execution, to
which she walked with the utmost solemnity of deportment; and,
when there, acknowledged her fault in administering the powders
to her father; but declared that, as she must soon appear before the
most awful tribunal, she had no idea of doing injury, nor any
suspicions that the powders were of a poisonous nature.

Having ascended some steps of the ladder, she said,
"Gentlemen, don't hang me high, for the sake of decency." Being
desired to go something higher, she turned about and expressed her
apprehensions that she should fall. The rope being put round her
neck, she pulled her handkerchief over her face, and was turned off
on holding out a book of devotions which she had been reading.

The crowd of spectators assembled on this occasion was
immense; and when she had hung the usual time she was cut down,
and the body, being put into a hearse, was conveyed to Henley, and
interred with her parents, at one o'clock on the following morning.

It will now be proper to return to Cranstoun, who was the
original contriver of this horrid murdcr. Having heard of Miss
Blandy's commitment to Oxford gaol, he concealed himself some
time in Scotland, and then escaped to Boulogne, in France.
Meeting there with Mrs. Ross, who was distantly related to his
family, he acquainted her with his situation, and begged her
protection; on which she advised him to change his name for her
maiden name of Dunbar.

Some officers in the French service, who were related to
his wife, hearing of his concealment, vowed revenge, if they
should meet with him, for his cruelty to the unhappy woman; on
which he fled to Paris, from whence he went to Furnes, a town in
Flanders, where Mrs. Ross had provided a lodging for his
reception.

He had not been long at Furnes when he was seized with a
severe fit of illness, which brought him to a degree of reflection to
which he had been long a stranger. At length he sent for a father
belonging to an adjacent convent, and received absolution from his
hands, on declaring himself a convert to the Romish faith.

Cranstoun died on the 30th of November, 1752; and the
fraternity of monks and friars looked on his conversion as an
object of such importance, that solemn mass was sung on the
occasion, and the body was followed to the grave not only by the
ecclesiastics, but by the magistrates of the town.

His papers were then sent to Scotland, to his brother, Lord
Cranstoun; his clothes were sold for the discharge of his debts; and
his wife came into possession of the interest of the fifteen hundred
pounds above mentioned.

This case is one of the most extraordinary that we shall
have occasion to record in these volumes. The character and
conduct of Cranstoun are infamous beyond all descrip tion. A
married man seeking a young lady in marriage, deluding her by the
vilest artifices, and the most atrocious falsehoods; and then
murdering her father to obtain the object of his wishes, exhibits an
accumulated picture of guilt to which no language can do justice.
His sufferings afterwards appear to have been a providential
punishment of his crimes. We are to hope that his penitence was
sincere; but it is impossible to think highly of a religion that offers
immediate pardon and absolution to a criminal, of whatever
magnitude, on the single declaration of his becoming a convert to
that religion.

With regard to Miss Blandy, the public have ever been
divided in opinion on her case. Those who have presumed on her
innocence have tacitly acknowledged that she was very weak,
which contradicts the accounts we have of her genius and mental
acquirements. On the contrary, those who have insisted on her
guilt, have made no allowances for the weakness of the female
mind; nor considered the influence of an artful man over the heart
of a girl in love.

Her solemn declaration of her innocence would almost
tempt one to think that she was innocent; for it is next to
impossible to suppose that a woman of her sense and education
would depart this life with a wilful lie in her mouth.

Be all this as it may, an obvious lesson is to be learnt from
her fate. -- Young ladies should be cautious of listening to the
insidious address of artful love as they know not how soon, and
how unsuspectedly, their hearts may be engaged to their own
destruction, founded on the violation of all their nobler duties.

JOHN CATHER, PATRICK KANE, AND DANIEL ALEXANDER
Pilloried for extortion,  1751.


THERE are a set of villains constantly prowling for plunder in the
metropolis and its environs, who extort money from men of
property under threats of accusing them with some heinous or
abominable crime.

Oftentimes the gentleman thus singled out by these conspirators,
though innocent, dreading even the breath of suspicion against his
character, is terrified into consent to give them money; and, when
once the devoted victim has thus yielded to their design, there is no
end to the extortions from time to time made upon him; his whole
fortune would scarce satisfy the rapacity of such rascals.

In the present case the Hon. Edward Walpole became the mark of
these extortioners. It appeared in evidence, on the trial of these
men, that Mr. Walpole had been secretary to the Duke of
Devonshire, while his grace was lord-lieutenant of Ireland; and, on
his return to London, being in want of a confidential servant, he
wrote to his friend Lord Boyle to procure him one, who some time
after sent to England John Cather, the culprit above named, who
was the son of one of his lordship's Irish tenants; but Mr. Walpole
having in the meantime hired an English servant, with whom he
was well satisfied, he declined taking him; but told him to remain
in his house until a place could be found for him.

Thus was Cather, when he committed the basest act of ingratitude,
maintained like a gentleman, Mr. Walpole having, from time to
time, even supplied him with pocket money.

One day he was observed by one of Mr. Walpole's servants in new
gay clothes, which he put on and off with much privacy, and
slipped in and out of the house in a way that showed he did not
wish to be seen in his new dress. This soon came to the knowledge
of the master, who, confident that he could not honestly come by
the means of procuring such articles, suspected he had been
plundered, and forbade him his house.

From this moment the ingrate meditated revenge; and, when the
mind is prone to vice, we soon find an opportunity of putting it into
practice. Cather, during the time he enjoyed Mr. Walpole's bounty,
having no employ, formed acquaintance with bad characters;
among whom were a gang of his own countrymen, who supported
their excesses by extorting money: one of these was William
Smith, who was hanged the 3d of October then last past.

These villains laid their snare for Mr. Walpole, but were therein
caught themselves. He resisted their attempts, and caused them to
be apprehended.

On the 5th of July, John Cather, Patrick Kane, Daniel Alexander, 
and Dixon, were brought up to the King's Bench, charged with a
conspiracy in swearing a disgraceful crime against the Hon.
Edward Walpole. The trial lasted several hours, when they were
found guilty, and received the following sentence:

John Cather to stand three times in and upon the pillory: the first
time at Charing Cross, the second in Fleet Street, and the third in
Cornhill; to be kept to hard labour in Clerkenwell Bridewell for the
term of four years; then to give security, himself in forty 
pounds, and two sureties in twenty pounds each, for his good
behaviour for four years more.

Patrick Kane to stand once upon the pillory, amid to be kept to
hard labour in Clerkenwell Bridewell two years; then to give the
like security for five years more.

Daniel Alexander -- This man,

'O Name it not in Gath --
Proclaim it not in the streets of Ascalon,'

was an attorney-at-law, and solicitor to the conspirators!

The attorney, undoubtedly the greatest villain of the gang, was
sentenced to stand once upon the pillory; to be imprisoned three
years in the King's Bench Prison; to give security for good
behaviour for three years more, himself in two hundred pounds,
and two sureties in one hundred pounds each; and to be struck off
the roll of attornies.

Dixon ran away from his merited fate.

The law, which confiscates a man's estate for stealing a penny, and
hangs him for thieving to the amount of a shilling, had hardly
provided adequate punishment for extortioners, conspirators,
perjurers, swindlers, gamblers, and rogues of those descriptions.

To some men (and surely all such men must be lost to shame) the
pillory would be no punishment. To stand with the head and hands
fastened to a block of wood for an hour, and where no pain arises
from the punishment, would hold up no terror to evil-doers, were
not the honest populace, indignant at the law's not hanging such
diabolical villains by the neck on a gallows, in some measure to
make good the defect. This was amply done on the present villains;
they were most severely pelted and hooted.

These exemplary punishments were exhibited in the latter end of
the year 1751.

Dixon, above mentioned, for a while eluded the search made after
him; but, being at length taken, he was brought to trial, and on the
4th of May, 1752, sentenced by the Court of King's Bench to be
imprisoned two years, to find sureties for his good behaviour, and
to stand once upon the pillory at Charing Cross, where the mob
treated him with no less severity than they had already done his
quondam friends in villainy.



ANTHONY DE ROSA
Hanged at Tyburn for robbery and murder, 23rd March, 1752


THIS malefactor was the son of an Englishman of Portuguese
extraction; but his father, going abroad, settled in one of the
Bermuda Islands, where be married a Portuguese woman, and
Anthony was the first child of that marriage.

His father, being at different times master of several vessels which
traded up the Mediterranean, brought his son up as a seaman, and
he continued with him till the old gentleman's death; but, when that
event happened, he engaged himself as mate in another vessel, in
which station be remained about two years.

The vessel putting into the port of Lisbon, De Rosa embarked on
hoard an English man of war bound to Ireland, and afterwards to
this kingdom. When the ship's crew were paid off he quitted the
naval service, lived in an idle manner, and supported himself some
time by forging seamen's wills and powers. After this he became
acquainted with Emanuel De Rosa, and one Fullagar, with whom
he combined in the commission of robberies.

On the 11th of June, 1751, Mr. William Farques, a young
gentleman who lived in London, went to dine with his uncle, who
kept an academy at Hoxton; and, having staid to supper, left the
house about a quarter after ten o'clock, on his return to town.

Between eleven and twelve o'clock on the night the murder was
committed, Mr. Hendrop, of Hoxton, was going home to his house,
when, seeing two men standing by a person lying on the ground, be
asked what was the matter; to which one of them replied, 'I believe
there is a gentleman murdered.' Mr. Hendrop took hold of his
hand, and found it warm. He then lifted up the body of the
wounded man, who seemed to attempt to speak, but was unable.
He then observed that the body was bloody, and felt some blood
withinside the clothes; on which he went to a public house in the
neighbourhood, where, meeting some men who had a lantern, he
returned with them to the spot; but the party was then dead, though
by the clothes it was known to be Mr. William Farques; on which
the body was carried to the house of his uncle.

The coroner took an inquisition on this occasion, when the verdict
of the jury was 'Wilful murder by persons unknown.' We have
mentioned that this affair happened on the night of the 11th of
June; but a discovery of the perpetrators of it did not arise till
above six months afterwards.

On the 26th of December Emanuel Be Rosa was apprehended as a
disorderly person, and lodged in Bridewell, where the terrors of his
conscience on the reflection of the murder were so great, that he
determined to make a discovery of the affair, at once to ease his
mind, and preserve his life by becoming an evidence for the crown.

Having informed the keeper of Bridewell of his intention, he then
sent to Anthony De Rosa to come and see him; on which he was
taken into custody, having in his pocket a knife with which he had
stabbed the deceased.

Emanuel De Rosa, having given in his deposition before a
magistrate, was admitted an evidence; and, when the trial came on
at the Old Bailey, he swore to the following particulars:--

That he had been acquainted with the prisoner about three years,
and had been concerned with him in forgery, and defrauding
people of money; that the prisoner came to his lodgings, near the
Maypole, in East Smithfield, about nine o'clock on the night the
robbery was committed; that they went together to the Minories,
where they found Fullagar; when all three of them went down
Houndsditeh, into Moorfields, towards the Barking Dogs (a public
house opposite the late Mr. Whitefield's tabernacle), where many
people were then walking. The prisoner said he wanted money that
night, and bade them come along, and not be afraid of anything.
They walked backwards and forwards for some time, thinking it
was too soon to attack anybody, as the clock had not then struck
ten.

The prisoner soon afterwards said 'Let us cross over that road,'
meaning by the Barking Bogs; and the gentleman who was
murdered was coming alone in the middle of the path, when the
prisoner asked him for his money. Mr. Farques said, 'Gentlemen, I
have no money for myself.' Upon this Fullagar gave him two or
three blows on the head with a stick, which had a piece of iron on
its head. Hereupon the gentle man turned round, on which Fullagar
struck him on the back of the head; but, as he did not fall, Anthony
De Rosa bade the evidence hold his arm, which he did, and the
other drew a knife, and stabbed him five or six times in the breast
and body, as fast as he could repeat the blows; and Fullagar at the
same time striking him near the ear, he fell against the pales. The
prisoner and Fullagar now searched his pockets, and the former
produced eleven shillings only.

The murderers now went together to the Nag's Head, on Tower
Hill, and drank two pots of beer; and there the evidence received
two shillings as his share of the plunder. About ten o'clock the next
morning the prisoner called on the evidence, and bade him take
care of himself, for that he and Fullagar were going down to
Chatham.

The reader is already apprised of the circumstance which led to the
apprehension of Anthony De Rosa, on whose trial the knife with
which he had stabbed Mr. Farques was produced; yet he steadily
denied having any concern in the wicked transaction, and
attempted to set up a defence, by endeavouring to prove an alibi:
for Dorothy Black and her son swore that on the 11th of June the
prisoner had a cold; and the woman added that she gave him a
sweat, and that he was not out of her house one minute during the
whole day and night; and this latter circumstance was likewise
sworn to by the son.

No credit, however, was given to the testimony of these evidences;
the jury found the prisoner guilty, and the Court directed that
Dorothy Black and her son should be taken into custody, to be
tried for perjury.

At the time of trial the prisoner was exceedingly debilitated by
illness; but, being considerably recovered in about ten days, he was
advised to make a full confession of the barbarous fact for which
his life was so soon to pay the forfeit, and to consider the
consequence of dying in the solemn attestation of a falsehood.

In reply to this serious exhortation he said 'I am as innocent as the
child unborn'; and, being farther urged on the subject, he
exclaimed 'Would you have me own myself guilty of what I know
no more of than you do? I know, if I be guilty and deny it, I must
send my soul to the bottom of hell, which I hope I know better than
to do.'

He was equally obstinate at the place of execution in denying the
fact for which he suffered, solemnly declaring to the last that ho
knew nothing of the matter.

He was hanged at Tyburn on the 23d of March, 1752.

The horrid nature and unprovokedness of the crime which cost this
man his life is almost without example. To the honour of this
country he it remarked, that the instances of murder in
consequence of robbery are fewer with us than in most of the other
kingdoms of Europe; and we hope they will be fewer than they
have been.

The source of De Rosa's misfortunes appears to have been
idleness; for, if he had followed the lawful calling in which he was
brought up, be might have lived happy in himself, and been an
useful member of society: instead of which be was cut off in the
prime of life, (for he was only twenty-eight years of age when he
suffered,) and became an object of public contempt and
abhorrence.

Of all things, then, let youth avoid idleness: let them consider that
industry is the road to riches and honour; let them remember and
apply the words of the poet:--

In works of labour or of skill,
I would he busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'


NICHOLAS MOONEY and JOHN JONES
Executed at Bristol, May 24, 1752, for highway robbery.

 THERE was somewhat of a noble mind in the character of Mooney,
though he suffered for an ignoble action. Many of the unfortunate men
whose career we trace to an untimely end, have possessed hearts worthy
of a better fate. Juvenile indiscretions have paved the way to
enormities; and to support an ill-acquired habit, they have been driven
to commit crimes, at which their minds have revolted. Melancholy,
indeed, are our pictures of such men; and, if our drawings could but
save one single youth from wandering into the road to ruin, our labours
would be gratified in mental retrospection.

 The exposition of crimes and punishments goes to this end, and
the editors sincerely, hope, that their comments will strike abhorrence
in each reader against the violation of the laws, both of God and man.

 Nicholas Mooney and John Jones were condemned at Bristol, for a
highway robbery. When brought to the bar, to receive sentence of death,
Moony, who during the trial had pleaded for his fellow culprit Jones,
thus addressed the Judge;

 "My Lord,

 "Permit me, again, to entreat for John Jones, whom I have
inveigled and drawn into this trouble (as I have done many others
before) that your Lordship will be pleased to spare his life.

 "As to my own part; I have committed many robberies and have been
a rebel against my king, and have wronged my country, by coining money
for which I can never make the public restitution, and therefore I am
content to die, as I deserve.

 "I pray God to bless every one to whom I have done any wrong, and
if there be any gentlemen of Bristol here, whom I have injured, I
heartily ask their forgiveness, and more especially Mr. Washborough,
(who stood near to the penitent culprit,) whom I attempted to murder,
but God saved his life, for which I can never praise him enough."

 "My Lord,

 "I desire only three Sundays, and after that time has elapsed, I
am willing to launch into eternity, and I hope, when I come to the
place of execution, that God will open my mouth to warn all against my
wicked course of life. I pray God to bless your Lordship, and this
honourable Court, and may the Lord Jesus receive my soul!"

 On the 24th of May (three Sundays having passed since sentence
was pronounced) Nicholas Mooney, John Jones, and William Cudmore, for
returning from transportation before the time of his sentence had
elapsed, were brought out of prison for execution.

 When arrived at the fatal tree, Mooney, in a pathetic manner,
warned the surrounding multitude against deviating from the paths of
rectitude, and warned them by his untimely fate.

 He left a letter to a gentleman who had been kind to him, in the
following words

 Sir,

 "Before I die, I take this opportunity of acknowledging your
kindness to me in times past. Oh ! that I had deserved it; for then I
had not brought myself into these circumstances. But God is wise, and
seeing that; I do not hear his voice, and turn from my wicked life, he
gave me up to my own heart's lust, and permitted me to fill up the
measure of my iniquity, that in me at last should be shewn the severity
of his justice.

 "You took me, the most abandoned wretch, for an honest man; and,
as such, you kindly and generously recommended me where I might have
done well -- it is my own fault I did not. On Friday I am to meet the
fate my crimes too justly deserve. I merit not only death, but hell; to
the former man has doomed me; from the latter, Christ, I hope, will
save me. Oh ! the riches of his mercy in Jesus Christ, who has made, my
prison as a palace, my chains as ornaments, and I am quite happy.. I 
hope every one will pray for me, that my faith fail not. I am longing
for death, and in firm expectation of a glorious resurrection to
eternal life.

 "Your most obliged and dying servant,

 "'N. MOONEY."

 When his irons were taken off, he smiling, said, "Death has no
sting for me," and when released from this incumbrance, he ejaculated,
"I have got rid of the chain of my sins;" and he appeared cheerful.
When the executioner put the rope about his neck, he said, "Welcome
halter, I am saved as the thief upon the cross;" coming to the fatal
tree, his expression was, "Welcome gallows, for I have deserved thee
many years."

 The executioner was about to tie up Jones; but, with much
earnestness, Mooney exclaimed, "Tie me up first, for I am the greatest
sinner;" and then said, "As the breath leaves my body, from my sincere
repentance, I am confident I shall go to heaven." So saying, and we
trust his words were verified, with the two, other unfortunate men, he
yielded up his life; all of them hoping forgiveness in that to come.

"Parent of nature! Master of the world 
Where'er thy Providence directs, behold
My steps with cheerful resignation turn,
Fate leads the willing, drags the backward on.
Why should I grieve, when grieving I must bear?
Or take with guilt, what guiltless I might share?"



JOHN M'CANNELLY AND LUKE MORGAN
A Daring Burglary committed in the House of Mr Porter, of the
Raike Farmhouse, near Chester, by M'Cannelly, Morgan, Stanley,
Boyd and Neill, Irish Haymakers, for which the first two were
executed on the 25th of May, 1752

AS harvest approaches, numbers of the lowest class of Irish
come over to the nearest counties in England, to be hired, as thy
receive better wages, and live better than in their own country, and
a wild, ferocious, and knavish set generally mix among the
industrious and honest, for the purpose of plundering their
employers.

Mr Porter, a wealthy farmer of Cheshire, had engaged a
number of these people, in the year 1752, in his harvest-fields. One
evening his house was beset by a gang of them, who forcibly broke
open his doors, advanced to him while at his supper-table, seized
and bound him with cords, at the same time, with horrid threats,
demanding his money.

They also seized his eldest daughter, pinioned her, and
obliged her to show them where her father's money and plate were
deposited. In the confusion the youngest daughter, a heroic little
girl of thirteen years of age, made her escape, ran into the stable
and got astride the bare back of a horse only haltered; but not
daring to ride past the house beset by the rogues she galloped over
the fields, leaping hedges and ditches, to Pulford, to inform her
eldest brother of the danger they were in at the village. He and a
friend, named Craven, determined on attacking the villains, and for
that purpose set off at full speed, the little girl accompanying them.

On entering his paternal roof the son found one of the
villains on guard, whom he killed so instantaneously that it caused
no alarm. Proceeding to the parlour, they found the other four in
the very act of setting his father on the fire, after robbing him of
fourteen guineas, in order to extort more. They had stripped down
his breeches to his feet, and his eldest daughter was on her knees,
supplicating for his life.

What a sight was this for a son! Like an enraged lion, and
backed by his brave friend, he flew upon them. They fired two
pistols and wounded both the father and the son, and a servant-boy
whom they had also bound, but not so as to disable them, for the
son wrested a hanger from one of them, cleft the villain to the
ground, and cut the others.

The eldest daughter having unbound her father the old man
united his utmost efforts by the side of his son and friend, and so
hard did they press that the thieves jumped through a window and
ran off.

The young men pursued and seized two more on Chester
Bridge, who dropped a silver tankard. The fifth got on board a
vessel at Liverpool, of which his brother was the cook, bound for
the West Indies; which sailed, but was driven back by adverse
winds.

The account of the robbery, with the escape of the
remaining villain, having reached Liverpool, a King's boat
searched every vessel, and at length found the robber, by the
wounds he had received, and sent him in fetters to Chester jail.

Mr Porter had a servant-man in the house at the time, a
countryman of the robbers, who remained an unconcerned
spectator, and, afterwards running away, he was also sent to prison,
charged with being an accomplice. They were brought to trial at
Chester Assizes, in March, 1752, and condemned.

Boyd, on account of his youth, and his having endeavoured
to prevail upon the others not to murder Mr Porter, had his
sentence of death remitted for transportation. The hired servant of
Mr Porter was not prosecuted.

On the Thursday previous to the day fixed for execution
Stanley slipped off his irons and, changing his dress, escaped out
of jail, and got clear off. On the 25th of May, 1752, M'Cannelly
and Morgan were brought out of prison in order to be hanged.
Their behaviour was as decent as could be expected from such
low-bred men. They both declared that Stanley, who escaped, was
the sole contriver of the robbery.

They died in the Catholic faith, and were attended by a
priest.



THOMAS WILFORD
A Cripple, who murdered his Wife in a Fit of Jealousy, and was
executed at Tyburn on the 22nd of June, 1752

THE jealous subject of our narrative was born of very poor
parents, at Fulham, in the county of Middlesex; and, coming into
the world with only one arm, he was received into the workhouse,
where he was employed in going errands for the paupers and
occasionally for the inhabitants of the town, and he was
distinguished by his inoffensive behaviour.

A girl of ill-fame, named Sarah Williams, being passed
from the parish of St Giles-in-the-Fields to the same workhouse,
had art enough to persuade Wilford to marry her, though he was
then only seventeen years of age; and their inclinations being made
known to the churchwardens they gave the intended bride forty
shillings to enable her to begin the world.

The young couple now went to the Fleet and were married,
after which they took lodgings, in St Giles's; and it was only on the
Sunday succeeding the marriage that the murder was perpetrated.
On that day the wife, having been out with an old acquaintance,
stayed till midnight, and on her return Wilford, who was jealous of
her conduct, asked her where she had been. She said, "To the
Park," and would give him no other answer; a circumstance that
inflamed him to such a degree that a violent quarrel ensued, the
consequence of which was fatal to the wife; for Wilford's passions
were so irritated that he seized a knife and, she advancing towards
him, he threw her down and, kneeling on her, cut her throat so that
her head was almost severed from her body.

He had no sooner committed the horrid deed than he threw
down the knife, opened the chamber door, and was going
downstairs, when a woman, who lodged in an adjacent room,
asked who was there; to which Wilford replied: "It is me. I have
murdered my poor wife, whom I loved as dearly as my own life."

On this the woman went down to the landlord of the house,
and was immediately followed by Wilford, who said he had killed
the woman that he loved beyond all the world, and was willing to
die for the crime he had committed; and he did not make the
slightest effort to escape.

On this the landlord called the watch, who, taking Wilford
into custody, confined him for that night, and on the following day
he was committed to Newgate by Justice Fielding.

Being arraigned on the first day of the following sessions at
the Old Bailey he pleaded guilty; but, the Court refusing to record
his plea, he was put by till the last day, when he again pleaded
guilty, but was prevailed on to put himself on his trial.

Accordingly the trial came on, and the prisoner was found
guilty. He was the first to suffer death in consequence of an Act
passed in the year 1751 for the more effectual prevention of
murder, which decreed that the convict should be executed on the
second day after conviction: for which reason it was customary to
try persons charged with murder on a Friday, by which indulgence,
in case of conviction, the execution of the sentence was,
necessarily postponed till Monday; and by the same Act it was
ordained that the convicted murderer should be either hanged in
chains or anatomised.

The jury having found Wilford guilty, sentence against him
was pronounced in the following terms:-- "Thomas Wilford, you
stand convicted of the horrid and unnatural crime of murdering
Sarah, your wife. This Court doth adjudge that you be taken back
to the place from whence you came, and there to be fed on bread
and water till Wednesday next, when you are to be taken to the
common place of execution, and there hanged by the neck until
you are dead; after which your body is to be publicly dissected and
anatomised, agreeable to an Act of Parliament in that case made
and provided; and may God Almighty have mercy on your soul!"

Both before and after conviction Wilford behaved as a real
penitent, and at the place of execution he exhibited the most
genuine signs of contrition for the crime of which he had been
guilty.



MOSES MORAVIA AND JOHN MANOURY
Convicted at the Old Bailey, 27th of June, 1752, for sinking a Ship
and swindling Insurers

SHIP-INSURERS were about this time greatly defrauded
by conspiracies of villains to sink vessels, in order to swindle the
underwriters, and the utmost difficulty was always experienced in
bringing the crimes home to them.

It was usual for those who practised the imposition upon
ship-insurers to purchase goods, pay for them, get them on board,
and in the night-time take them clandestinely out of the ship and
dispose of them for what they would bring.

Thus when they had sunk the ship they could produce
receipts for the goods, and the shipping papers for the same; upon
which the insurers were compelled to pay the amount.

This was precisely the crime proved upon these Jews, who,
conspiring with one Samuel Wilson, who died before his trial came
on, and Captain Misson, commander of the ship Elizabeth and
Martha, sunk that fine ship at sea, in order to defraud the
underwriters. Misson absconded, and a reward of fifty pounds was
offered for apprehending him, but he was never brought to justice.

Moravia and Manoury were arraigned for this offence at
the bar of the Old Bailey, on the 27th of June, 1752, and, after a
long trial, found guilty. Solomon Carolina, another Jew, was tried
with them, as an accomplice; but, the proof not fully reaching him,
he was acquitted.

They were sentenced to a year's imprisonment in Newgate,
and in that time to stand in the pillory, once on Tower Hill and
once at the Royal Exchange; to pay a fine of twenty pounds each,
and to find securities for their good behavior for five years,
themselves in two hundred pounds each, and such other securities
as the Court might require.



ANN WHALE AND SARAH PLEDGE
Ann Whale, strangled and then burned, for the Murder of her
Husband; and Sarah Pledge, hanged for being her Accomplice.

ANN WHALE was born of respectable parents, at
Horsham, in Sussex; but her father dying in her infancy, she was
left to the care of her mother. Early in life she gave evidence of an
uncontrollable disposition, and, having a dispute with her mother,
she wandered into the country and associated with people of bad
character; but her mother, in order to save her from ruin, at length
prevailed on her to return home.

Soon after this she was addressed by a sober young man,
named James Whale; and as a relation had left her a legacy of
eighty pounds, payable when she was of age, and the mother
readily consenting to their alliance, the marriage took place. They
had not been long wedded when they went to reside at a place
called Steepwood; but soon returning to Horsham they took up
their residence in the house of Sarah Pledge, who was distantly
related to Mrs Whale.

A short time after their abode there, a misunderstanding
happening between the women, Mr Whale forbade Mrs Pledge to
come into his apartment -- a circumstance that only tended to
foment the quarrel. Soon afterwards, however, the women were
privately reconciled; and as the man was remarkably sober, and
they were of the opposite character, it is the less to be wondered at
that they sought the means of his destruction.

Mrs Whale having lain in, and being tolerably recovered,
Mrs Pledge took the advantage of her husband's absence to come
into her room, when she said: "Nan, let us get rid of this devil!"
(meaning Mr Whale). The wife said: "How can we do it?" To
which the other replied: "Let us give him a dose of poison."

The abandoned woman too readily consented to this horrid
proposal; and the only difficulty which appeared to arise was how
the poison should be procured.

They first attempted their purpose by roasting spiders and
putting them into his beer, but finding this did not produce the
effect, Mrs Pledge undertook to purchase something more
efficacious, and for that purpose went to several market-towns; but
as she went into each apothecary's shop she saw or fancied she
saw, some person who knew her, or that her conscience interposed.
At length she went to an apothecary at Horsham to whom she was
a stranger, but was still afraid, though she made the purchase.

Hastening to her more wicked friend, she gave her the
bane, who with equal dispatch administered it; for at the moment
her husband was fondling their child, on whom he doted, she
mixed it in some hasty pudding prepared for his supper.
Unsuspicious, the affectionate but unfortunate man ate, was soon
seized with the racking torments occasioned by that corrosive
mineral, and the next day expired; but, the neighbours suspecting
that his death was occasioned by some sinister arts, a surgeon
examined the body, and the coroner's jury being summoned
brought in a verdict of "Wilful Murder."

Thereupon Mrs Whale and Mrs Pledge were taken into
custody, and carried before a magistrate. The latter wished to
become evidence; but being separately examined, and both
confessing the fact, they were committed to Horsham Jail. On their
trials the confessions which they had signed were read and, some
corroborative evidence arising, they were convicted, and received
sentence of death.

For some time after conviction Mrs Pledge behaved in the
most hardened manner, making use of profane expressions, and
declaring that she would fight with the hangman at the place of
execution. On the contrary, Mrs Whale acknowledged the justice
of the sentence which had condemned her, and gave evident signs
of being a real penitent.

On the evening preceding the execution the clergyman who
attended them brought Mrs Pledge into a better state of mind, and
then administered the Sacrament to both the convicts.

They suffered on the 14th of August, 1752, at Horsham, in
Sussex. An immense crowd attended at the place of execution
where Pledge was hanged; and Whale, being tied to a stake, was
first strangled and then burned to ashes, in the twenty-first year of
her age.


WILLIAM MONTGOMERY
Executed at Tyburn, December 2, 1752, for defrauding his creditors

 In a country like England, and more especially when we view the
overgrown capital, though productive of crimes in fraudulent debtors,
we must advocate acts of insolvency.

 The good of many must be pre-eminent to the villainy of a few;
and, where we find one punished for the abuse of the lenity of the
legislative body, we happily find thousands of unfortunate beings
rescued from the horrors of a prison, where they had long been immured
without the means of support, much less were they able to satisfy the
demands of inexorable creditors.

 The necessity of good faith in contracts, and the support of
commerce, oblige the legislature to secure for the creditors the person
of the bankrupts; and in this point of view may the subject of this
case, and all others who take the benefit of an act of insolvency, be
considered.

 The fraudulent bankrupt should be punished in the same manner
with him who adulterates the coin of the realm; for to falsify a piece
of coin, which is a pledge of mutual obligations between men, is not a
greater crime than to violate the obligations themselves.

 But the bankrupt who, after a strict examination, has proved
before the commissioners that either the fraud or losses of others, or
misfortunes unavoidable by human prudence, have stripped him of his
substance, on what barbarous pretence is he thrown into prison, and
thus deprived of the only remaining good, the melancholy enjoyment of
mere liberty? Still more hard is the case of an unfortunate trader,
who, disclosing his whole transactions, and offering to assign over to
his creditors the remains of his stock, is cast into prison by a single
hard-hearted unrelenting claimant. Yet this is constantly done in
Britain.

 Why is such a man cast into a loathsome prison, ranked with
criminals, and, in despair, compelled to repent of his honesty?
Conscious of his innocence, he lived easy and happy under the
protection of those laws, which, it is true, he violated, but not
intentionally. Laws are dictated by the avarice of the rich, and
tacitly accepted by the poor, seduced by that flattering and universal
hope, which makes men believe that all unlucky accidents are the lot of
others, and the most fortunate only their share.

 Mankind, when influenced by the first impressions, love cruel
laws, although, being subject to them themselves, it is in the interest
of every person that they should be as mild as possible; but the fear
of being injured is always far more prevalent that the intention of
injuring others.

 But, to return to the innocent bankrupt. Let his debt, if you
will, not be considered as cancelled till payment of the whole; let him
be refused the liberty of leaving the country with out leave of his
creditors, or of carrying into another nation that industry, which,
under a penalty, he should be obliged to employ for their benefit; but
what pretence can justify the depriving of an innocent, though
unfortunate, man of his liberty, without the least utility to his
creditors?

 Then it may be in answer be said, that the hardships of
confinement will induce him to discover his fraudulent transactions: an
event that can hardly be supposed, after  a rigorous examination into
his conduct and affairs.

 It will be necessary to distinguish fraud, attended with
aggravating circumstances, from simple fraud, and that from perfect
innocence. For the first, let there be ordained the same punishment as
for forgery. For the second, a punishment with the loss of liberty; and
if perfectly innocent, let the bankrupt himself choose the method of
re-establishing himself, and satisfying his creditors.

 With what ease might a sagacious legislator prevent the greatest
part of fraudulent bankruptcies, and remedy the misfortunes that befall
the innocent and industrious! A public register of all contracts, with
the liberty of consulting it allowed to each tradesman -- a public
fund, formed by the contribution of fortunate merchants, for the timely
assistance of unfortunate industry -- would be the establishments that
could produce no real inconveniences, but would be attended with
numberless advantages.

 Many eminent bankers, in the history of the trade of London, by
an unexpected run upon their house, must have become bankrupts, and
thereby embarrassed thousands, had not the Bank of England come to
their assistance; but alas! The unfortunate tradesman has no one to
prevent his fall. Unhappily, the most simple, the easiest regulations,
await only the nod of the legislator to diffuse through nations wealth,
power and felicity; laws, which would be regarded by future generations
with eternal gratitude, are either unknown or rejected. A restless and
trifling spirit, the timid prudence of the present moment, and a
distrust and aversion to the most useful motives, possess the minds of
those who are empowered to regulate the actions of mankind.

 It must at the same time, be acknowledged, that the baseness of a
few failures often tends to render callous the feelings of creditors.

 No act of insolvency has been carried into effect without the
detection of fraud. Eager to embrace its benefits, and thus rid
themselves of debt, men will wade through perjury, and employ every
means to accomplish their purpose.

 After the destruction of the prisons in London, during the riots
of the year 1780, an act was passed for the purpose of absolving all
who had been confined. Of this every rascal in London was ready to take
the advantage. A mere form was only necessary, to enter their names;
but the signatures, that Lord Chief Justice Mansfield, to his infinite
honour, ordered the lists to be printed and published, which put to
rout whole hives of impostors. Names were herein found that might as
well have expected to appear in the list of Gazette promotions.

 A man of this description was the subject who led to this
enquiry.

 William Montgomery was a native of Elphinstone, in Scotland, and
educated in the Presbyterian form of religion.

 His father dying when he was about thirteen years old, his mother
sent him to sea in a ship belonging to Alloa. Having continued in the
naval line of business some years, he at length married, and opened a
public house in Bishopsgate-street; and dealing largely as a smuggler,
he frequently went to Holland, to bring home prohibited goods.

 Quitting Bishopsgate-street, he lived some years at the sign of
the Highlander, in Shadwell; but, on the death of his wife, he resolved
to decline business as a publican; and having saved some money, he
entered again into the matrimonial state, and taking a lodging in
Nightingale-lane, he let lodgings to seafaring men.

 Meeting with success, he took a shop as a seller of seamen's
clothes; but left the care of it chiefly to his wife, while he employed
his own time in frequent trips to Holland, in pursuit of his former
illicit practice of smuggling.

 An act of insolvency passing in the year 1748, favourable to such
persons as had been in foreign parts fugitives for debt, Montgomery
took the benefit of it, swearing that he was at Rotterdam on the last
day of the preceding year: in consequence of which, he was cleared of
his debts, to the injury of his creditors.

 No notice was taken of this affair till the expiration of four
years, when , Montgomery having arrested a neighbour, the man gave
notice of his former transactions to one of his creditors, who laying
an information before the lord mayor, Montgomery was lodged in Newgate
on suspicion.

 Being brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old Bailey,
several persons deposed that they spent the evening with him at his own
house at the time he alleged that he was in Holland, in order to take
the benefit of the act: so that he was convicted, and received sentence
to die.

 For some time after conviction he behaved with apparent signs of
devotion; but asserted his innocence, and said that the witnesses
against him were perjured; and in this tale he continued till the
arrival of the warrant for his execution.

 Being pressed by the divine who attended him to tell the truth,
he persisted in the former story until the Friday before his death; but
in the afternoon of that day he acknowledged, that after having been on
board a Dutch vessel; in order to take his passage for Holland, he had
come on shore, owing to the contrary winds.

 On the following day he insisted that, "as he had been sworn
according to the methods used in Scotland, without kissing the book,
his crime could not come within the meaning of the act". In rely to
this he was told that the mode of administering could make no
difference to the nature of an oath.

 Hereupon he made a full confession of his crime, and owned that,
having come on shore, he concealed himself for some weeks in his own
house; then appeared publicly, saying he had been at Rotterdam: after
which he surrendered himself to the warden of the Fleet prison, and
obtained the benefit of the act of insolvency.

 On the Sunday following, when he was pressed to declare the whole
truth, he exclaimed, "What would you have me say? I have told you all
the truth, and can say no otherwise than what I have done. If I did, I
should belie myself, and my own knowledge."

 This malefactor appeared dreadfully shocked on the morning of
execution, and wished for time for repentance, which he now considered
highly necessary. At the place of execution he warned the spectators to
beware of covetousness, which had been the cause of his destruction.




CAPTAIN PETER DE LA FONTAINE
Convicted of Forgery

THE following short sketch of this artful and daring
foreigner would furnish incident for a novel or a romance.

De la Fontaine was born of noble parents in France,
received a military education, and served at the siege of
Phillipsburgh, under the Duke of Berwick.

The campaign being ended, he went to Paris, where a
gentleman invited him to spend some time at his country seat,
when he fell in love with his daughter, who wished to marry him;
but the father interposing, she eloped with her lover, and they lived
a considerable time, as married people, at Rouen.

On their return to Paris the young lady lodged in a convent;
but De la Fontaine appearing in public, some officers of justice,
seeing him in a coffee-house, told him they had the king's warrant
for apprehending him: on which he wounded two of them with his
sword; notwithstanding which he was seized, and lodged in prison.

On this he wrote to the young lady, telling her he was
obliged to go into the country on urgent business, but would soon
return; and, having made an interest with the daughter of the
keeper of the prison, she let him out occasionally, to visit his
mistress.

Being brought to trial for running away with an heiress, he
would have been capitally convicted, agreeable to the laws of
France, but that the young lady voluntarily swore that she went off
with him by her own consent. Soon after his acquittal she was
seized with the pains of labour, and died in child-bed.

After this De la Fontaine went again into the army, and
behaved so bravely at the battle near Kale, that the Duke of
Berwick rewarded his courage with the commission of lieutenant
of grenadiers.

A young lady of Stratzburgh, who had fallen in love with
De la Fontaine, at Paris, before his former connexion, now
obtained a pass from the Marshal de Belleisle, and, being
introduced to the Duke of Berwick, told him she wished to see De
la Fontaine; and the duke, judging of the cause, ordered her to be
conducted to him.

On the following day she went to the duke, dressed in
men's clothes, and, begging to enter as a volunteer in the same
regiment with De la Fontaine, she was indulged for the novelty of
the humour. She went through the regular duties of a soldier, and
reposed in the same tent with her paramour; but, in the winter
following the campaign, she died of small-pox, leaving a part of
her fortune to her lover.

The Duke of Berwick being killed at the siege of
Phillipsburgh, De la Fontaine made the tour of Europe; but,
returning to Paris, he fought a duel with an officer, who being
dangerously wounded, our hero repaired to Brest, and embarked as
lieutenant of marines on board a vessel bound for Martinico.

The ship, being taken by a Turkish corsair, was carried into
Constantinople, where De la Fontaine was confined in a dungeon,
and had only bread and water for his sustenance. While in this
situation he was visited by another prisoner, who had more liberty
than himself, and who advised him, as the French consul was then
absent, to apply to a Scotch nobleman then in the city, who was
distinguished for his humane and generous feelings.

De la Fontaine, having procured pen, ink, and paper, with a
tinder-box to strike a light (all by the friendship of his fellow-
prisoner), sent a letter to the nobleman, who had no sooner read it
than he hurried to the cells, to visit the unfortunate prisoner.

Having promised his interest to procure his enlargement, he
went to the grand vizier, and pleaded his cause so effectually, that
De la Fontaine was released, and went immediately to thank the
vizier, who wished him happy, and presented him with a sum of
money.

Hence our adventurer sailed to Amsterdam, where, having
a criminal connexion with a lady, who became pregnant, he
embarked for the Dutch settlement of Curaçao; but, finding the
place unhealthy, he obtained the governor's permission to go to
Surinam, and continued above five years on that island.

While in this place the governor invited him to a ball,
where one of the company was a widow lady of rank, of whom he
determined, if possible, to make a conquest; nor did he long fail of
an opportunity, for, dining with her at the governor's house, they
soon became very intimately acquainted.

The consequence of their sociability was a residence as
husband and wife; and four children were the fruits of the
connexion, three of whom died; but the other, a boy, was educated
by the governor of the island.

Other officers having addressed the same lady, De la
Fontaine was occasionally involved in difficulties on her account.

One of these officers having traduced him in his absence,
our hero, on meeting him, bid him draw his sword; but the other
refused, on which De la Fontaine struck him with his cane, and cut
off one of his ears.

On this our adventurer was seized, and tried by a court-
martial, but acquitted; and the officer degraded, on account of the
provocation he had given; and from this time De la Fontaine was
treated with unusual marks of civility.

He still lived on the best terms with the lady, and their
affection appeared to be reciprocal.

The governor bestowed on him a considerable tract of land,
which he cultivated to great advantage; but the malice of his
enemies was so restless, that they prevailed on one of his negro
servants to mix a dose of poison in his food.

Unsuspicious of any villainy, he swallowed the poison, the
consequence of which was, that he languished several months: and
the lady, affected by his situation, gave way to melancholy, which
brought on a consumption, that deprived her of life.

After her death De la Fontaine obtained the governor's
permission to return to Europe, and lived for some time in a
splendid manner at Amsterdam; but at length determined to
embark for England.

Having arrived in London, he took elegant lodgings, lived
in the style of a gentleman, and made several gay connexions.

Among his acquaintance was Zannier, a Venetian, who had
been obliged to quit his own country on account of his
irregularities. This man possessed such an artful address, that De la
Fontaine made him at all times welcome to his table, and admitted
him to a considerable share of his confidence.

Zannier soon improved this advantage; for, contriving a
scheme with an attorney and bailiff, he pretended to have been
arrested for three hundred pounds, and prevailed on his new
friends to bail him, on the assurance that he had a good estate in
Ireland, and would pay the money before the return of the writ;
but, when the term arrived, our hero was compelled to discharge
the debt, as Zannier did not appear.

Hitherto De la Fontaine had been in London without
making any connexion with the ladies; but, there being a
procession of freemasons at that time, he dressed himself in the
most superb taste, and his chariot being the most elegant of any in
the procession, he was particularly noticed by the spectators.

Among the rest, the daughter of an alderman had her
curiosity so much excited, that she caused inquiry to be made who
he was; and on the following day sent him a letter, intimating that
she should be at a ball at Richmond, where he might have an
opportunity of dancing with her.

Our hero did not hesitate to comply; and, when the ball was
ended, he received an invitation to dine with the young lady on the
following day, at her father's house. He attended accordingly; but
the father, having learnt his character, insisted that she should
decline his visits, which put an end to all his hopes from that
quarter.

The circumstances of our hero being greatly reduced, he
resolved, if possible, to repair them by marriage, and was soon
afterwards wedded to a widow of considerable fortune; but his
taste for extravagance rendered this fortune unequal to his support;
nor was his conduct to his wife by any means generous.

Soon after his marriage he was at the lord mayor's ball, 
where he made the acquaintance with the wife of a tradesman,
which ended in a criminal connexion.

The parties frequently met at taverns and bagnios; and De
la Fontaine having written to the lady, appointing her to meet him
at a tavern, the letter fell into the hands of her husband, who
communicated the contents to her brother, and the letter was sealed
up, and delivered according to its address.

The brothers agreed to go to the tavern, where they told the
waiter to show any lady to them who might inquire for De la
Fontaine.

In a short time the lady came, and was astonished to be
introduced to her brother and husband: but the latter was so
affected, that he promised a full remission of all that was passed,
on her promise of future fidelity. These generous terms she
rejected with contempt, and immediately left the room.

De la Fontaine, being acquainted with this circumstance,
was impressed with a sense of the husband's generous behavior,
and advised the lady to return to her duty. At first she insulted him
for his advice, but at length thought proper to comply with it.

Our hero now saw his own conduct in an unfavourable
light; on which he went into the country with his wife for some
time, to avoid his old associates, and then returned to London,
determined to abandon his former course of life.

Unfortunately, however, he had not long formed this
resolution, when Zannier went to him, begging his forgiveness for
obliging him to pay the debt. De la Fontaine too easily complied
with his request, and once more considered him as a friend.

Zannier and De la Fontaine, going to a tavern, met with a
woman whom the latter had formerly known, and a man who was
dressed in black. While De la Fontaine was conversing with the
woman, the stranger (who afterwards appeared to be a Fleet
parson) read the marriage-ceremony from a book which he held in
his hand; and the next week De la Fontaine was apprehended on a
charge of bigamy, and committed for trial at the Old Bailey.

The villain Zannier visiting him in Newgate, De la Fontaine
was so enraged at his perfidy, that he beat him through the press-
yard with a broomstick with such severity, that the turnkey was
obliged to interpose to prevent murder.

In revenge of this, Zannier swore that De la Fontaine had
been guilty of forgery, in imitating the handwriting of a gentleman
named Parry: in consequence of which De la Fontaine was brought
to his trial, and capitally convicted, though a gentleman swore that
the writing resembled that of Zannier, and there was too much
reason to believe that his hand committed the forgery.

Yet the jury found De la Fontaine guilty; the Court
sentenced him to death, and the day was appointed for his
execution. He was, however, respited, and this was from time to
time continued, during five years, then he was pardoned on
condition of transportation.

In September, 1752, with many other convicts, he was
shipped to the English colony of Virginia, in America.

The villainy of Zannier, and the consequence of dissipation
in the life of De la Fontaine, are the circumstances proper for
remark on this occasion. The man who, like the former, could
abuse the confidence of a trusting friend, is unworthy of all pity,
and deserving only of general de testation.

It is to be lamented that the forgery could not have been
fixed on Zannier, in which case he would probably have met with
the due reward of his villainy. With regard to De la Fontaine, we
see that a life of dissipation ends only in disgrace, if not in absolute
destruction. The fate of this man should teach us that the plain path
of virtue and religion can alone be the high road to happiness.


ANN WILLIAMS
Burnt at the stake for murdering her husband, April 13, 1753


THE behaviour of this fiend had long been a prelude to the
diabolical crime which she committed. She was in her family
turbulent and dictatorial; her husband the very reverse. His mild
and quiet disposition served only to nurse her opposition and
violence. He had long given way to her in all things, and she, in
return, ruled him with a rod of iron.

Before the commission of this horrid deed we have found women
make use of man's unqualified indulgence. Hence arose the vulgar
saying of 'the grey mare being the better horse,' of 'hen-pecked
husbands,' and many other irritating observations on men troubled
with shrews.

One of the wisest of the ancient philosophers had his Xantippe;
and the poet sings,

'When man to woman gives the sway,
To what is right they oft say Nay.'

The pliancy of the more unfortunate man in question could not
shield him from the consequence of the ascendancy she had over
him; it sunk into contempt, and she determined to rule alone. To
effect this, her wicked heart suggested the death of her husband.
For this horrid purpose she prevailed on their servant-man to
purchase some white mercury, which she mixed in some gruel, and
caused him to eat it. This mode of administering the poison, it was
conjectured, was adopted in contempt of him; for it appeared the
poor man did not like gruel. She then directed him to draw her
some ale, of which he also drank; and was immediately seized with
violent purgings and vomiting. She told the man, whom it seems
she meant afterwards to share her bed, that she 'had given her
husband the stuff be brought, and that it was operating purely.'

The dying man, in his agonies, said his wife was a wicked woman;
that he was well until she made him eat some pap, which had done
his business, and that he should be a dead man on the morrow: and,
in spite of medical aid, he died next day, his body being in a state
of mortification.

The horrid crime being fully proved against her, she received
sentence to be burnt at the stake, which sentence was accordingly
carried into execution at Gloucester, April 13, 1753, among a
number of spectators, who showed little pity for her fate, and
which became still more shocking from denying the fact, so
incontrovertibly proved, to the very last moment of her existence.




DR. A. CAMERON
Executed at Tyburn, 7une 7, 1753 (greatly lamented) for High
Treason.

As the rebellion was suppressed, and the British nation
enjoyed internal peace, we could almost have wished the royal
mercy had been extended to Dr. Cameron; as he took so small a
part in the crime for which he suffered, and was drawn into it by
attending, in his professional capacity, upon his elder brother.

The brother of this unfortunate man was the chief of the
family of their name in the Highlands, and had obtained the highest
degree of reputation by his zealous and effectual endeavours to
civilize the manners of his countrymen.

Dr. Cameron, being intended by his father for the
profession of the law, was sent to Glasgow; where he continued his
studies some years; but, having an attachment to the practice of
physic, he entered in the university of Edinburgh; whence he went
to Paris, and then completed his studies at Leyden in Holland.

Though well qualified to have cut a respectable figure in
any capital city, yet he chose to reside for life near his native place;
and, having returned to the Highlands, he married, and settled in
the small town of Lochaber; where, though his practice was small,
his generous conduct rendered him the delight and the blessing of
the neighbourhood. His wife bore him seven children, and was
pregnant of the eighth at the unfortunate period of his death.

While Dr. Cameron was living happy in the domestic way,
the rebellion broke out, and laid the foundation of the ruin of
himself and his family. The Pretender having landed, went to the
house of Mr M'Donald, and sent for the doctor's brother, who went
to him, and did all in his power to dissuade him from an
undertaking from which nothing but ruin could ensue.

The elder Mr Cameron having previously promised to bring
all his clan in aid of the Pretender, the latter upbraided him with an
intention of breaking his promise; which so affected the generous
spirit of the Highlander, that he immediately went and took leave
of his wife, and gave orders for his vassals, to the number of near
twelve hundred, to have recourse to arms.

This being done, he sent for his brother, to attend him as a
physician; but the doctor urged every argument against so rash an
undertaking; from which he even besought him on his knees to
desist. The brother would not be denied; and the doctor at length
agreed to attend him as a physician, though he absolutely refused
to accept any commission in the rebel army.

This unhappy gentleman was distinguished by his
humanity; and gave the readiest assistance, by night or day, to any
wounded men of the royal army, who were made prisoners by the
rebels. His brother being wounded in the leg at the battle of
Falkirk, he attended him with the kindest assiduity, till himself was
likewise slightly wounded.

Dr. Cameron exhibited repeated instances of his humanity;
but when the battle of Culloden gave a decisive stroke to the hopes
of the rebels, he and his brother escaped to the western islands,
whence they sailed to France, in a vessel belonging to that
kingdom.

The doctor was appointed physician to a French regiment,
of which his brother obtained the command; but the latter dying at
the end of two years, the doctor became physician to Ogilvie's
regiment, then in Flanders.

A subscription being set on foot, in England and Scotland,
in the year 1750, for the relief of those persons who had been
attainted, and escaped into foreign countries; the doctor came into
England to receive the money for his unfortunate fellow sufferers.
At the end of two years another subscription was opened; when the
doctor, whose pay was inadequate to the support of his numerous
family, came once more to this country, and having written a
number of urgent letters to his friends, it was rumoured that he was
returned.

Hereupon, a detachment from Lord George Beauclerk's
regiment was sent in search of him, and he was taken in the
following manner: -- Captain Graves, with thirty soldiers, going
towards the place where it was presumed he was concealed, saw a
little girl at the extremity of a village, who, on their approach, fled
towards another village. She was pursued by a servant and two
soldiers, who could only come near enough to observe her
whispering to a boy, who seemed to have been placed for the
purpose of conveying intelligence.

Unable to overtake the boy, they presented their guns at
him; on which he fell on his knees, and begged his life; which they
promised, on the condition that he would shew them the place
where Dr. Cameron was concealed.

Hereupon the boy pointed to the house where he was,
which the soldiers surrounded, and took him prisoner. Being sent
to Edinburgh, he was thence conducted to London, and committed
to the Tower.

While in this confinement, he was denied the use of pen,
ink, and paper, and was not suffered to speak to his friends but
when the warder was present. On his examination before the lords
of the privy-council, be denied that he was the same Dr. Cameron
whose name had been mentioned in the act of attainder; which
made it necessary to procure living evidence to prove his identity.

Being brought to the bar of the court of king's-bench on the
17th of May, he was arraigned on the act of attainder, when,
declining to give the court any farther trouble, he acknowledged
that he was the person who had been attainted: on which the lord
chief justice Lee pronounced sentence in the following terms:
"You, Archibald Cameron, of Lochiel, in that part of Great Britain
called Scotland, must be removed from hence to his majesty's
prison of the Tower of London, from whence you came, and on
Thursday, the 7th of June next, your body to be drawn on a sledge
to the place of execution; there to be hanged, but not till you are
dead; your bowels, to be taken out, your body quartered, your head
cut off, and affixed at the king's disposal; and the Lord have mercy
on your soul!"

After his commitment to the Tower, he begged to see his
wife, who was then at Lisle in Flanders; and, on her arrival, the
meeting between them was inexpressibly affecting. The unhappy
lady wept incessantly, on reflecting on the fate of her husband,
herself, and numerous family.

Coming to take her final leave of him on the morning of
execution she was so agitated by her contending passions, that she
was attacked by repeated fits; and, a few days after the death of her
unfortunate husband, she became totally deprived of her senses.

On the 7th of June, the sheriffs went to the Tower, and
demanded the body of Dr. Archibald Cameron, who was
accordingly brought to them by William Ranford, Esq. the deputy-
lieutenant.

As soon as he was seated on the sledge, whereon he was to
be drawn to the place of execution, he requested to speak to his
wife, but being informed that she had left the Tower, after taking
leave of him, at eight o'clock, he replied, he was sorry for it; upon
which the sledge moved towards Tyburn, among a great number of
spectators, who all pitied his situation.

The doctor was dressed in a light-coloured coat, red
waistcoat and breeches, and a new bag-wig. He looked much at the
spectators in the houses and balconies, as well as at those in the
streets, and bowed to several persons with whom he had been
acquainted.

At a quarter past twelve the solemn procession reached the
place of execution, where he looked on the officers and spectators,
with an undaunted and composed countenance; and as soon as
unloosed from the sledge, he started up, and with a heroic
deportment, stept up into the cart, whence looking round with
unconcern on all the apparatus of death, he smiled. Seeing the
clergyman, that had before attended him, coming up the steps, he
came forward to meet him, and endeavoured, with his fettered
hands, to help him up, saying, "So, you are come: -- this is a
glorious day to me! -- 'tis my new birthday! -- there are more
witnesses at this birth than at my first"

The clergyman being now at the side of the cart, asked
"how he felt himself;" he answered, "thank God, I am very well,
but a little fatigued with my journey: but, blessed be God, I am
now come to the end of it."

The sheriff asked the clergyman, whether he would be long
about his office, Dr. Cameron immediately took the words, and
said, he required but very little time; for it was disagreeable to be
there, and he was as impatient to be gone as they were.

This truly unfortunate man then told the sheriff, he would
no longer presume upon his patience; but the sheriff, with looks
that shewed a great deal of concern, begged he would take as much
time as he pleased, for he would wait until he was ready. The
doctor thanked him. He turned to the clergy man, and said, "I have
now done with this world, and am ready to leave it."

He now joined him in some short prayers, and repeated
some ejaculations out of the Psalms; then embraced the clergyman
and took his farewell.

As the divine was going down from the cart, he had nearly
missed the steps, which the doctor observing, called to him in a
cheerful tone of voice, saying, "Take care how you go; I think you
don't know this way as well as I do;" and now, giving the signal,
the cart drew from under him.

The body, after hanging twenty minutes, was cut down: it
was not quartered; but the heart was taken out and burnt. On the
following Sunday, the remains of Dr. Cameron were interred in a
large vault in the Savoy chapel.



CHRISTOPHER JOHNSON AND JOHN STOCKDALE
Executed at Tyburn, 3rd of July, 1753, and their Bodies hanged in
Chains, for Murder

CHRISTOPHER JOHNSON was born in Newgate, both
his parents being convicted of fraud. Having imbibed false ideas of
gentility, he procured some elegant clothes and frequented the
gaming-houses, where he soon made the most dangerous
connections and arrived at the head of his profession.

From the practice of gaming he took to that of forgery, at
which he was remarkably expert in imitating the hands of other
people to notes payable to himself; by which he repeatedly
acquired money, but still escaped detection.

His daring was such that he sometimes arrested persons on
whom he had committed forgeries and compelled the payment of
the money, by having people ready to swear that the handwriting
was that of the party whose name was subscribed to the draft.

The following is one specimen of his devices. He forged a
note on a lady of considerable fortune, and signed her name to it so
like her writing that she almost discredited her own sight when she
read it. Johnson arrested her. But as she knew she had given no
such note, she bailed the action and prepared to stand trial; but the
guilty man declined all further proceedings.

After this Johnson took to picking pockets and other low
practices of defraud; but a miserable poverty still attended him, for
what he got dishonestly was soon spent in dissipation. At length he
met John Stockdale, at Sadler's Wells, and agreed to see him the
next evening at a house in Holborn.

Stockdale was born at Leicester, where his father was a
reputable proctor, who gave him an excellent education, but was
too fond of him to keep that strict guard over his conduct which
might have been essential to his future welfare. He very soon
showed a disposition to idleness, which was not properly checked
by his parents, who would not permit his schoolmaster to chastise
him for his faults. When the father saw his error he determined, in
pursuance of the advice of some friends, to send him to a proctor in
Doctors' Commons, where he hoped to hear of a speedy
reformation in his manners. Stockdale, however, was of too idle a
disposition to brook confinement. His extravagance exceeded the
bounds of his father's allowance, and he borrowed of his
acquaintances to supply his immediate wants. In this way he went
on frequenting places of public diversion, till those who had lent
him money teased him for a return of it; and he was at a loss for
further resources when he met Johnson at Sadler's Wells.

On the following day these ill-fated youths met at the
appointed place and made a contract for their mutual destruction.
At this time Johnson was under twenty and Stockdale not eighteen
years of age. Stockdale agreed to accompany Johnson, and the next
day they hired horses and rode towards Romford, near which the
party lived whom they intended to rob; and having wasted the time
till night, they tied their horses to a hedge and, being armed with
pistols, knocked at the door, which was opened by the old
gentleman. Johnson presented a pistol to his breast, and then they
bound him and his two servants, and told the master that he must
expect immediate death if he did not discover where his money
was concealed.

Terrified by this threat, he told them to take a key from his
pocket which would open a bureau, where they would find a bag
containing all the cash then in his possession. The robbers having
seized the property, Johnson put the bag into his pocket and then
remounted and rode to London, where they found the booty to
consist of one hundred and fifty pounds; but this they soon
dissipated in acts of extravagance, and then proceeded to commit a
number of robberies on the roads of Essex and Kent.

They took horses in Holborn, and, having ridden to
Edmonton, turned up a lane, where they met a postman, who was
carrying letters round the neighbourhood. The man good-naturedly
opened the gate for them to pass, when Johnson demanded his
money and watch, which he held out to them, and at that instant
was shot dead by Stockdale.

The murder was no sooner committed than they hastened to
London; and, though the country was alarmed by what had
happened, they rode on the following day to Hounslow, where they
dined. After dinner they called for their horses, but Stockdale was
so intoxicated that he at first fell from the horse, but was replaced.

The magistrates having by this time sent out a number of
constables, the murderers were taken into custody and carried
before a magistrate, when Stockdale acknowledged his guilt; but
by this time Johnson was so drunk that he was insensible of his
confinement to Newgate.

When brought up to receive sentence of death, Johnson was
so unwell that he was indulged with a chair. Stockdale kept up his
spirits with decent fortitude until his eyes met those of a gentleman
near him with whom he had lived, when he burst into tears, and
continued in great agitation the remainder of the awful time,
frequently beating his head and breast in a violent manner.

Johnson was so extremely debilitated that he could pay no
attention at the place of execution to the preparation of his soul for
another life; but Stockdale prayed fervently, and made a pathetic
address to the populace at the fatal tree. After hanging the usual
time their bodies were taken to Surgeons' Hall for dissection; and
preparations for that purpose were being made when an order came
from the office of the Secretary of State that they should be hung
in chains on Winchmore Hill, where they were accordingly placed.



WILLIAM SMITH
Executed at York, 14th Of August, 1753, for poisoning Thomas
Harper, his Stepfather, and his two Children, William and Anne 
Harper

WILLIAM SMITH was a farmer in good circumstances at
Great Broughton, in the county of York. His mother had married a
second husband, one Thomas Harper, of Ingleby Manor, who had
already two children. Smith therefore wished to rid himself of
those whom he considered obtruders between him and his
prospects from his late father's estate.

After forming several diabolical plans for cutting them off,
and his resolution as often failing him, being one day in an
apothecary's shop purchasing some physic for his horses, the evil
spirit whispered to him that the means were at hand, and he
immediately asked for a little arsenic to kill the rats in his barn.
The apothecary, not suspecting a man of Smith's respectability
meant the deadly powder for any other use, sold him
twopennyworth.

The day chosen by this now-determined sinner to
administer the poison was the Good Friday of the year 1753, when,
observing a large cake being prepared, of which some neighbours
had been invited to partake, he unperceived, as he imagined, mixed
it with the flour, and thus it was served up to the table.

It providentially happened that the neighbours did not come
to dinner, and none ate of the cake except Thomas Harper and two
of his children, William and Anne.

Having made preparations for flight, the murderer, the
moment he found his wickedness had taken its desired effect, set
off for Liverpool, from which a suspicion arose that he was the
perpetrator of the horrid deed.

The unfortunate people languished in excruciating torments
until the next day, when they expired.

No sooner had Smith reached Liverpool than his
conscience began to rebuke him, and having no kind of
employment his existence became a burden to him. Nor could he
find the least respite until he returned to the very spot where he
committed the murder, where he was immediately apprehended,
and confessed his crime.

At the autumn assizes for the county of York, before Mr
Serjeant Eyre, Smith was, on his own confession, the evidence of
the apothecary, and a maid-servant who saw him busy with the
flour, with other corroborating circumstantial evidence, found
guilty, and received sentence of death.



MARY SQUIRES and ELIZABETH CANNING
The first was convicted of robbery, and pardoned; the second was
convicted of, and transported for, Perjury, in swearing to that
robbery.

THERE is so much of mystery in the following case, that it
seems beyond the bounds of human sagacity to determine on
which side the merit lies. The story, with all its particulars, must be
within the memory of many of our readers, who have already
formed their opinion of it; and it has been of such public notoriety,
that few persons can be wholly unacquainted with it: we shall,
therefore, only give an abridged account, fairly stated from the
evidence as it arose, without favour or affection to either party.

If Elizabeth Canning's own story may be credited, she
quitted the house of her mother, near Aldermanbury, on the first of
January, 1753; and, having visited her uncle and aunt, who lived
near Saltpetre-bank, was, on her return, assaulted in Moorfields by
two men, who robbed her of half a guinea, which was in a small
box in her pocket, and three shillings that were loose. They also
took her gown, apron, and hat, which one of them put into the
pocket of his great-coat; on which she screamed out; but he bound
a handkerchief round her mouth, and tied her hands behind her,
after which, she received a violent blow on the head, which, added
to her former terror, occasioned her falling into a fit, a disorder to
which she had been subject about four years.

On her recovery from the fit, and about half an hour before
she reached Wells's house, she found herself by the road side, the
two men dragging her forward. She observed water near the road,
and arrived at the house where she said she was confined about
three hours before day-light. When she came into the house, she
did not see the mistress of it, Susannah Wells; but saw Mary
Squires, a gipsey, and two girls.

Squires taking Canning by the hand, asked her if she chose
to go their way, and, if she would, she should have fine cloaths.
Canning, understanding that her meaning was to commence
prostitute, replied in the negative; on which Squires took a knife
from a drawer, cut the lace from her stays, and took them from her.
Then Squires pushed her up a few stairs out of the kitchen, to a
place called the Hayloft, and shut the door on her. On the approach
of daylight, she found that the room had neither bed nor bedstead,
and only hay to sleep on; that there was a black pitcher nearly full
of water, and about twenty-four pieces of bread, in the whole about
the quantity of a quartern-loaf; and that she had in her pocket a
penny minced-pie, which she had bought to carry to her brother.

She said, that she covered herself with a bedgown and
handkerchief, which she found in the grate; and that, for the space
of twenty-eight days within a few hours, which she remained there,
she had no food nor liquor except what is abovementioned, nor had
the common evacuation of nature.

About four in the afternoon of Monday the 29th of January,
she pulled down a board that was nailed on the inside of the
window, and getting her head first out, she kept fast hold by the
wall, and then dropped into a narrow place by a lane, behind which
was a field.

Having got into the highway, she enquired her way to
London, but did not stop. When she came into Moorfields the
clock struck ten; and she thence prpceeded to her mother's near
Aldermanbury, where she told the above story to two gentlemen
with whom she had lived as a servant: to which she added, that the
place where she had been confined was near the Hertfordshire
road, which was evident from her having seen a coachman drive
by, who had frequently carried her mistress into Hertfordshire.

A number of circumstances giving reason to suspect that
the house in which she had been confined was that of Susannah
Wells, a warrant was issued to apprehend her and Squires, and
such other people as might be found in the house.

Mr Lion, with whom she had lived servant, and several
other persons, went with her to execute the warrant. When she
came to the place, she fixed on Mary Squires as the person who
bad robbed her; and she said that Virtue Hall stood by while her
stays were cut off.

On this, all the parties were carried before Justice Tysh
maker; when Hall so solemnly denied all knowledge of any such
transaction having happened since she had been in the house, that
she was discharged; but Squires was committed to New-prison for
the robbery, and Wells for aiding and abetting her.

Soon afterwards, justice Fielding was applied to for a
warrant for the apprehension of Hall, and she was examined before
the magistrate for six hours, during which she continued in her
former declaration. At length the justice said, that 'he would
examine her no longer, but would commit her to prison, and leave
her to stand or fall by the evidence that should be produced against
her;' and he advised an attorney to prosecute her as a felon.

Hereupon she begged to be heard, and said she would tell
the whole truth: and the substance of her declaration was, that
Canning had been at Mrs Wells's, and was robbed in the manner
that she herself had declared.

On this, Squires and Wells were brought to trial at the Old
Bailey, and convicted, principally on the evidence of Virtue Hall,
the first for assaulting and robbing Elizabeth Canning, and the
latter for harbouring, concealing, and comforting her, well
knowing her to have committed the robbery: and John Gibson,
William Clark, and Thomas Grevil, having positively sworn that
Squires was in Dorsetshire at the time when the robbery was said
to have been perpetrated, they were committed to be tried for
perjury.

Some gentlemen who had heard the trial, being dissatisfied
with the evidence, made such application, that a free pardon was
granted to Squires.

In the mean time, numbers of people were of opinion that
the countrymen had sworn to the truth; and measures were
accordingly taken to indict Canning for perjury: but, at the next
sessions, her friends preferred bills of indictment against the men.
Bills of indictment against the opposite parties being brought at the
same time, the grand jury threw them all out; being resolved not to
give any countenance to such a scene of perjury as must arise on
one side or the other.

This happened at the sessions in April; but, at the next
sessions, in June, bills of indictment were found against the
countrymen: these, however, were intended to be removed into the
court of King's Bench, by writ of certiorari; but the court refused to
grant the writ, alledging, that the indictments ought to be tried at
the Old Bailey, because the king's commission of gaol-delivery
was directed to that court. Hereupon the countrymen were bailed;
and, at the sessions held in the month of September following, they
were arraigned, but were honourably acquitted, no person
appearing to give evidence against them.

Squires being pardoned, and these men thus acquitted, the
public opinion of this singular case became still more divided.
Every one saw that there must have been perjury in the affair; but
it was impossible to determine on which side it lay.

The lord mayor of London, at that time, was Sir Crisp
Gascoyne, who exerted himself in the most vigilant manner to
come at the truth of this mysterious affair; for which, as is but too
common, he was abused with a degree of virulence that reflected
the highest infamy on his calum niators; for, whatever might be
their private opinion, or whatever his own, it was certainly the duty
of a good magistrate to endeavour to investigate the truth.

In the month of May, 1754, Elizabeth Canning was indicted
at the Old Bailey for wilful and corrupt perjury, in swearing, that
she had been robbed by Mary Squires. A great number of
witnesses swore that Squires was near Abbotsbury at the time that
the robbery was said to have been committed: and, on the dontrary,
more than thirty persons of reputation declared on oath, that
Canning's character stood so fair, that they could not conceive her
capable of being guilty of suchan atrociods crime as wilful perjury.

Ingenious arguments were used by the council on each
side; and the jury, after mature deliberation, brought in a verdict,
that she was guilty; in consequence of which, she received
sentence to be transported for seven years.

No affair that was ever determined in a judicial way did,
perhaps, so much excite the curiosity, or divide the opinion of the
public, as that in question. The newspapers and magazines were for
a long time filled with little else than accounts of Canning and
Squires: prints of both parties were published, and bought up with
great avidity. Canning was remarkable for what is called the
plainness, and Squires for the ugliness, of person; and perhaps
there never was a human face more disagreeable than that of the
latter.

We should hardly be thought to exceed the truth, if we were
to say that ten thousand quarrels arose from, and fifty thousand
wagers were laid on, this business. All Great Britain and Ireland
seemed to be interested in the event: and the person who did not
espouse either one party or the other was thought to have no
feeling. The first question in the morning was, 'What news of
Canning?' and the last squabble at night was, whether she was
honest or perjured; but this, however, could never be determined;
and it will probably remain a mystery as long as the world endures.

Elizabeth Canning was transported to New England on the
31st of July, 1754, having first received some hundred pounds
collected by the bounty of her friends and partizans.

She was afterwards reputably married in America; and the
newspapers gave notice, that she died some years ago in that
country.

From this story we may learn two useful lessons, on the
fallibility of human testimony, and the horrid crime of perjury. If
Canning was guilty, her crime was of the most enormous
magnitude, that of endeavouring to swear away a life, in order to
cover, perhaps, her own disgrace; for some persons thought that
she had been debauched in her absence, and that the whole was a
concerted scheme to conceal the truth. If she was innocent, what a
variety of perjuries must have been committed by the opposite
parties!

Upon the whole, we must end as we began: this story is
enveloped in mystery; and the truth of it must be left to the
discoveries of that important day, when all mists shall be wiped
from our eyes, and the most hidden things shall be made plain. In
the mean time, it is our duty to admire and adore those inscrutable
decrees of Providence, which can bring good out of evil, and
answer its own wise and gracious purposes, by means least
apparent to finite comprehension!



JOHN HAMBLETON
A Soldier of the Guards, executed at Tyburn, 10th of December,
1753, for the Murder of Mr Crouch

MR CROUCH, the murdered man, was head cook to the
Earl of Harrington.

On the 17th of August, 1753, he went upon the business of
his employer to Chelsea, and in returning through King's Road,
about nine o'clock in the evening, he was met by Hambleton and
his associate, named Lattie, who, with horrid imprecations,
demanded his money.

Mr Crouch was a resolute man and refused to be robbed;
thereupon they fired two pistols at him, without effect. Being
himself unarmed, he had recourse to a pocket-knife, which he
opened and told them to keep off; but they closed on him, in doing
which he wounded Lattie in three places. The villains 
overpowering him, they threw him to the ground and rifled his
pockets of his money and his watch; they then, not content with
their booty, with which they might have escaped, wrested the knife
from his hand, ripped open his belly, then stamped upon his
mangled body, beat him on the head with the butt-ends of their
pistols, and left him weltering in his blood. Early next morning
some labourers going to their work discovered him still alive and
able to describe the robbers, with his place of residence, which was
a small house in Green Street, Grosvenor Square, near his noble
employer's mansion. Thither he was carried, where he languished
in excruciating torments three days, and then died, leaving a
widow and three children.

The murderers, from his description, were soon
apprehended. Lattie had the wounds about him given by the
deceased, who was able to identify them the day before his death.

Hambleton was brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, and
sentenced to die; but Lattie died of the wounds given him by the
murdered man before the time of his being arraigned, thus robbing
the gallows of its just due.

The surviving murderer was executed at Tyburn, professing
himself a Roman Catholic, and his body was given to the surgeons
for dissection.



NICHOL BROWN
Executed for the murder of his wife, August 14th, 1754

IN the account given of this man there is a savage ferocity which
has not before come under our notice; for, though we read in
Captain Cook's, and other accounts of circumnavigators, of their
meeting with cannibals and, further, that even civilized men, by the
dire dint of the excruciating pains of hunger, have slain, and, with
horrible compunction, eaten one of their companions, to support
life in the rest; yet where shall we find, except in this instance, a
savage, in the land of civilization and of plenty, eat human flesh?
After this it no longer remains astonishingly horrible that such a
brute could force his wife into the fire, and burn her to death.

This atrocious monster was a native of Cramond, a small town near
Edinburgh, where he received a school education. At a proper age
he was placed with a butcher in that city, and, when his
apprenticeship was expired, went to sea in a man of war, and
continued in that station four years. The ship being paid off, Brown
returned to Edinburgh, and married the widow of a butcher, who
had left her a decent fortune.

Soon after this marriage Brown commenced dealer in cattle, in
which he met with such success, that, in the course of a few years,
he became possessed of a considerable sum. His success, however,
did not inspire him with sentiments of humanity. His temper was
so bad, that he was shunned by all serious people of his
acquaintance; for he delighted in fomenting quarrels among his
neighbours.

Taking to a habit of drinking, be seldom came home sober at night;
and, his wife following his example, he used frequently to beat her
for copying his own crime. This conduct rendered both parties
obnoxious to their acquaintance; and the following story of Brown,
which may be relied on as a fact, will incontestably prove the
unfeeling brutality of his nature.

About a week after the execution of Norman Ross for murder,
Brown had been drinking with some company at Leith, till, in the
height of their jollity, they boasted what extravagant actions they
could perform. Brown swore that he would cut off a piece of flesh
from the leg of the dead man, and eat it. His companions, drunk as
they were, appeared shocked at the very idea; while Brown, to
prove that he was in earnest, procured a ladder, which be carried to
the gibbet, and, cutting off a piece of flesh from the leg of the
suspended body of Ross, brought it back, broiled, and ate it.

This circumstance was much talked of, but little credit was given
to it by the inhabitants of Edinburgh till Brown's companions gave
the fullest testimony of its truth. It will be now proper that we
recite the particulars of the shocking crime for which this offender
forfeited his life.

After having been drinking at an alehouse in the Cannongate, he
went home about eleven at night, in a high degree of intoxication.
His wife was also much in liquor; but, though equally criminal
himself, he was so exasperated against her, that he struck her so
violently that she fell from her chair. The noise of her fall alarmed
the neighbours; but, as frequent quarrels had happened between
them, no immediate notice was taken of the affair.

In about fifteen minutes the wife was heard to cry out 'Murder!
help! fire! the rogue is murdering me! help, for Christ's sake! ' The
neighbours, now apprehending real danger, knocked at the door;
but, no person being in the house but Brown and his wife, no
admission was granted; and the woman was heard to groan most
shockingly.

A person, looking through the key-hole, saw Brown holding his
wife to the fire; on which he was called on to open the door, but
refused to do so. The candle being extinguished, and the woman
still continuing her cries, the door was at length forced open; and,
when the neighbours went in, they beheld her a most shocking
spectacle, lying half-naked before the fire, and her flesh in part
broiled. In the interim Brown had got into bed, pretended to be
asleep, and, when spoken to, appeared ignorant of the transaction.
The woman, though so dreadfully burnt, retained her senses,
accused her husband of the murder, and told in what manner it was
perpetrated. She survived till the following morning, still
continuing in the same tale, and then expired in the utmost agony.

The murderer was now seized, and, being lodged in the gaol of
Edinburgh, was brought to trial, and capitally convicted.

After sentence he was allowed six weeks to prepare
himself for a future state, agreeably to the custom in Scotland.

He was visited by several divines of Edinburgh, but steadily
persisted in the denial of his guilt, affirming that he was ignorant
of his wife being burnt till the door was broke open by the
neighbours.

Among others who visited the criminal was the Reverend Mr.
Kinloch, an ancient minister, who, urging him to confess his crime,
received no other reply than that, 'if he was to die to-morrow, he
would have a new suit of clothes, to appear decently at the
gallows.' Mr. Kinlioch was so affected by his declaration, that he
shed tears over the unhappy convict.

On the following day, August the 14th, 1754, he was attended to
the place of execution at Edinburgh by the Reverend Dr. Brown;
but to the last he denied having been guilty of the crime for which
he suffered.

After execution he was hung in chains; but the body was stolen
from the gibbet, and thrown into a pond, where, being found, it
was exposed as before. In a few days, however, it was again stolen;
and, though a reward was offered for its discovery, no such
discovery was made.

It is impossible to express sufficient horror at the crime of which
this man was guilty; and it is therefore the less necessary to make
any remarks on his case, as no one can be tempted to think of
committing a similar crime till he is totally divested of all the
feelings of humanity. From a fate so wretched as this may the God
of infinite mercy deliver us!




CAPTAIN JOHN LANCEY
Executed at Execution Dock, 7th of June, 1754, for burning a Ship
at the Instigation of a Member of Parliament

THIS unfortunate man fell a dupe to an artful and wicked
villain, his employer, who at the time was a disgraceful Member of
the House of Commons, and who, to avoid the punishment due to
his crimes, fled, and left the unfortunate subject whose case is
before us a victim to his baseness.

Captain John Lancey was a native of Bideford, in
Devonshire, respectably born and well educated. As he gave early
proofs of an inclination for a seafaring life he was taught
navigation, was attentive to his studies, and gave proofs of a
goodness of disposition that promised a better fate than afterwards
attended him.

Lancey was sent to sea as mate of a ship, of which Mr
Benson, a rich merchant at Biddeford, was the proprietor. Lancey,
having married a relation of Benson's, was soon advanced to the
command of the vessel. This Benson was Member of Parliament
for Barnstaple, in Devonshire, and what kind of character he
deserved will appear in the sequel.

After Lancey had returned from a long voyage he was for a
considerable time confined to his bed by a violent illness, the
expense of which tended considerably to impoverish him. When he
had partly recovered, Benson told him that he proposed to refit the
ship in which he had formerly sailed; that Lancey should have the
command of her; that he (Benson) would insure her for more than
double her value, and then Lancey should destroy the vessel.

This proposal appeared shocking to Lancey, who thought it
but a trial of his honesty, and declared his sentiments, saying that
he would never take any part in a transaction so totally opposite to
the whole tenor of his conduct.

For the present nothing more was said; but soon afterwards
Benson invited Lancey and several other gentlemen to dine with
him. The entertainment was liberal; and, Captain Lancey being
asked to stay after the rest of the company were gone, Mr Benson
took him to a summer-house in the garden, where he again
proposed destroying the ship, and urged it in a manner that proved
he was in earnest.

Captain Lancey hesitated a short time on this proposal and
then declined to have any concern in so iniquitous a scheme,
declaring that he would seek other employment rather than take
any part in such a transaction. But Benson, resolving if possible
not to lose his agent, prevailed on him to drink freely, and then
urged every argument he could think of to prevail on him to
undertake the business, promising to shelter him from punishment
in case of detection.

Lancey still hesitated. But when Benson mentioned the
poverty to which his family was reduced by his late illness, and
offered such flattering prospects of protection, the unhappy man at
length yielded, to his own destruction. A ship was now fitted out,
bound for Maryland: and goods to a large amount were shipped on
board, but relanded before the vessel sailed, and a lading of
brickbats taken in by way of ballast. They had not been long at sea
when a hole was bored in the side of the ship and a cask of
combustible ingredients was set on fire, with a view to destroying
her. The fire no sooner appeared than the Captain called to some
convicted transports, then in the hold, to inquire if they had fired
the vessel; which appears to have been only a feint to conceal the
real design.

The boat being hoisted out, all the crew got safe on shore;
and then Lancey repaired immediately to Benson to inform him of
what had passed. Benson instantly dispatched him to a proctor,
before whom he swore that the ship had accidentally taken fire,
and that it was impossible to prevent the consequences which
followed.

Lancey now repaired to his own house, and continued with
as much apparent unconcern as if such a piece of villainy had not
been perpetrated; but he was soon afterwards taken into custody by
a constable, who informed him that oath had been made of the
transaction before the Mayor of Exeter by one of the seamen.
Lancey, however, did not express much concern, secure in his idea
of protection from the supposed influence of Benson.

On the following day Lancey and one of the ship's crew
were committed to the jail of Exeter, where they remained three
months; and being then removed to London were examined by Sir
Thomas Salisbury, the judge of the Admiralty Court, and
committed to the prison of the Marshalsea. Application was
afterwards made to the Court of Admiralty to admit them to bail;
and there appeared to be no objection to granting the favour, but
Benson, on whom they had depended for bail, had absconded, to
escape the justice due to his atrocious crime.

Being committed to Newgate, they were brought to trial at
the next Sessions of Admiralty held at the Old Bailey,when Lancey
was capitally convicted, and received sentence of death, but the
other was acquitted.

Lancey lay in prison about four months after conviction,
during which his behaviour was altogether consistent with his
unhappy situation. His Christian charity was remarkable towards
Benson; for, though that wicked man had been the cause and
instigator of his ruin, yet he never once reflected on him, but
imputed all the crime to himself, and appeared to behold it in its
genuine light of deformity.

It was presumed, when he was first apprehended, that he
might have been admitted an evidence against Benson, if he would
have impeached him; but this he steadily refused to do.

His devotional exercises were exemplary: he attended
prayers in the most regular manner, and gave every proof of his
contrition. He was accompanied to the place of execution by two
clergymen; and, having confessed his guilt in a speech to the
surrounding multitude, he underwent the sentence of the law on the
7th of June, 1754, at Execution Dock, in the 27th year of his age.



DAVIS, THE MAIL-ROBBER
Executed and hung in chains near the place where he committed
the robbery

THIS man was a tallow-chandler in Carnaby-market,
London, where he had some time carried on business with apparent
credit, until his goods were distrained upon by his landlord, for
rent. On taking an inventory thereof, a pistol was found in a drawer
of a bureau, with some parts of bank notes, and several bills of
exchange.

As the Cirencester mail had been robbed above two years
before, and the customary reward had been in vain advertised for
the discovery of the thief, a suspicion arose against him. The notes
being shewn to an officer of the post-office, he suspected them to
have been taken out of the mail; but lest he should prove innocent,
and the charge be detrimental to him, a stratagem was used to carry
him before a magistrate, to answer for some broils in which he had
lately been involved. He was then charged with robbing the mail,
which he denied.

But when he was upon the point of being discharged, a
person came to the office with a silver tankard, which had been
advertised to have been purchased with one of the notes plundered
from the mail, of Mr Harding in the Minories, and found concealed
in Davis's house.

Mr Harding was then sent for, who swore that the prisoner
purchased it of him. Hereupon he confessed that he knew the
person who had robbed the mail, and who, he said, then lay under
sentence of death in Newgate.

To this falsehood he was answered, that the person he
described, was sentenced only to transportation; upon which he
turned pale and was agitated. He was thereupon committed to
prison, and a warrant of detainer lodged against the convict whom
he had accused.

He was removed by writ of habeas corpus, to Aylesbury,
and on the 12th of March, 1755, there brought to trial.

When asked, in the usual form, whether he was guilty, or
not guilty, to the charges laid in the indictment? He refused to
plead till his irons were taken off. This the court consented to, and
he then pleaded, 'Not guilty'; but after a trial which occupied five
hours, he was convicted.

On the third of April following, he was executed at
Gerrard's Cross, in Buckinghamshire, the place where he
committed the robbery, and there hung in chains.


PAUL TIERNEY
A Traitor, executed August 30, 1754, for enlisting Englishmen to serve
the enemy.

 For some few years after the suppression of the second Scottish
rebellion, a secret trade of treachery was by many disaffected villains
carried on, by enlisting men for the service of the King of France.

 We have already adduced instances of the detection of this vile
species of treason; and though it was well known that death would soon
follow conviction: yet still we find men hardy enough to risk the
consequences.

 Paul Tierney was of this description. He, like Thomas Reynolds
had succeeded too well; for he deluded several soldiers from their duty
to their country, and secretly conveyed them to France.

 At one time, on false pretences, he inveigled eight, by keeping
them in a state of intoxication. At Calais he threw off the mask, gave
them a livre each, and declared they were then soldiers to the King of
France. The poor fellows, now sobered by their voyage, were so
indignant at this duplicity and treachery, that with one accord they
fell upon him, and in an instant would have beat him to death, if the
captain of the French guard had not rescued him.

 They were now bound with ropes, carried to Dunkirk, and were
thrown into a loathsome dungeon, where they long suffered on bread and
water.

 One of them had the good fortune to escape, and procuring
sailor's clothes, got back to England. At this time Tierney was a
prisoner in Maidstone gaol, which circumstance coming to the knowledge
of the much injured man, he went thither, and charged him with crime.

 On the trial it was proved that Tierney received three pounds
each for the recruits, which was paid him in the presence of the
prosecutor.

 He was convicted, and hanged upon Penenden-heath, near Maidstone.



ROBERT ALSOP, A MIDSHIPMAN, AND SIX SEAMEN
Convicted in 1755 for committing a Riot in the City of London, and
impressing a Citizen thereof, but treated leniently in order that
they might fight against France

A PRESS-GANG in the year 1755, in a riotous manner,
forced themselves into the house of Mr William Godfrey, a citizen
of good repute and a cooper, of the City of London. They knocked
him down and dragged him through the streets with only one
slipper on, and thus forcibly put him on board a King's ship in the
River Thames. There he was confined in the hold among a number
of other subjects, where there was a suffocating stench, the effects
of which long endangered his life. Twelve hours was he thus
confined, to the scandal, as the printed accounts of this lawless
baseness of the time said, of all government, and in derogation of
the rights and privileges of the City of London. At length, the Lord
Mayor exercising his authority, Mr Godfrey was released, and his
friends set about the laudable task of bringing those spoilers to
condign punishment.

Robert Alsop, William Sturges, John Dodsey, Frederick
Offler, James Williamson, Charles Powell and Benjamin Tidsdale,
a part of this press-gang, were indicted, and committed to prison.

Being brought to trial at the Guildhall of the City of
London, Sturges and Dodsey, having surrendered themselves, and
pleading for mercy, were acquitted; but the others were found
guilty.

While the Court was deliberating on the punishment to be
inflicted on them some officers of Government interceded, and
prayed that their country might not long be deprived of their
services against the French, then at war with us; and in
consequence thereof, and on their knees suing for mercy, backed
by Mr Godfrey's generous forgiveness, they were sentenced to
only ten days' imprisonment.


HENRY SAMUEL
A Jew, punished for breaking the Christian Sabbath.

 AT the same sessions wherein Alsop the midshipman, and the seamen
were found guilty of committing a riot, this. unbeliever was convicted
of being a sabbath-breaker and profaner of the Lord's Day, in
permitting card-playing on Sunday, at his house in Duke's-Place, for
which crime he was fined thirteen shillings and four-pence, and
imprisoned three months in Wood-Street Compter..

 The son of Israel pleaded, that Sunday was not his Sabbath; but
it was replied, that as he was permitted, unmolested, to turn Saturday
into Sunday, he surely might behave with decency on the Christian's day
of rest and prayer.

 Thus Jews, in a Christian country, lose a day in each week: but,
aided by activity and cunning, they frequently do, more (in their way)
in five days, than we do in six.



JOHN GRIERSON
Transported for marrying without Banns, or License, 
December, 1755.

JOHN GRIERSON was indicted, for that he, after the twenty-
fifth of March, 1754, to wit, on the twenty-seventh of 
June, in the twenty-ninth year of his present majesty, at 
the Savoy, did unlawfully, knowingly, wilfully, & 
feloniously, solemnize matrimony between JOSEPH VERNON, 
then a batchelor, & JANE POITIER, a single woman, without 
first publishing of banns, or any license first had, and 
obtained of a person having authority to grant the same, in 
contempt of our Lord the King, and against the Statute, &c. 

He challenged all the twelve jurymen, who had been trying 
that sessions on the Middlesex side. 

Upon which his trial was postponed till next day, when 
fifty-nine freeholders more were summoned, and a jury of 
twelve sworn. 

MICHAEL DEATH: I am an apothecary, and live in Greek-
street, Soho. I know JOSEPH VERNON, and her that was JANE 
POTIER; he lived in Great Russell-street, Covent-garden, 
and the Compton-street, St. Anne's; and I know the 
prisoner. I was present at the marriage of VERNON & POITIER 
at the Savoy chapel; they were married by the prisoner, and 
I gave her away. She was then in the twentieth year of her 
age. 

Q.: Do you know whether they had any License? 

DEATH: I do not know anything concerning it. 

Q.: Do you know whether there was any consent of parents? 

DEATH: There was no farther consent than a written paper 
signed by the mother of the young woman, which was produced 
to the prisoner and the clerk. 

Q.: Did he ask them, before they were married, if there was 
the consent of parents? 

DEATH: He did, and scrupled to marry them without that 
consent. 

Q.: What was the purpose of that paper? 

DEATH: It was this, "June 14, I do hereby declare my 
daughter, JANE POITIER, to be at free liberty to marry 
whomsoever she pleases." Signed by the mother. 

Q.: Did any-body ascertain this paper to the prisoner? 

DEATH: Yes, I and Mr. SEVANE did, that it was signed by the 
mother. 

Council: Is her father alive? 

DEATH: He is, and in court; but he did not approve of the 
marriage. 

Council: Were they married immediately after the paper was 
produced? 

DEATH: They were; neither did the prisoner go out of the 
room, but proceeded to marry them directly. 

Council: Did you acquaint Mr. [John] Grierson there was a 
father? 

DEATH: He knew that very well, for we had told him so; and 
we likewise told him that the father would not consent. 

JOHN SEVANE: I know JOSEPH VERNON, & JANE POITIER, & was 
present at their marriage in the Savoy chapel, by the 
prisoner at the bar. 

Q.: In the Savoy chapel in the parish of Covent-garden? 

SEVANE: I don't know what parish it is in. 

Q.: Were any questions asked about consent? 

SEVANE: There were. The last evidence & I, the night before 
the marriage, had heard the mother say her daughter was at 
liberty to marry whom she pleased. I believe she had made 
some endeavours to persuade her against the marriage before 
that; but she said her daughter was at liberty, and her 
daughter called in the last evidence and me to hear her 
mother say that. I have heard since that the father 
disapproved of the marriage. The mother said to us, "You 
may tell the person that marries them he never will be 
troubled by any of our family." We told the minister what 
the mother had said. He replied, he thought that "consent 
was not sufficient; but if we had it signed by the mother, 
that he took to be sufficient;" and upon that he married 
them. 

STEPHEN BROWN: I am clerk of the parish of St. Martin's. 
Here is the register of the births in our parish. 

Q.: Have you any entry there relating to JANE POITIER? 

BROWN: Yes; here is "Born June 8th, 1736, & baptized the 
11th, JANE HENRIETTA POITIER, daughter of MICHAEL & 
CLAREMON," the father & mother's names. 

Q.: Were there any banns published, or license produced? 

DEATH: Not as I know of. 

SEVANE: There was a kind of license, but I don't know what 
it was, filled up I believe by the clerk; it was taken from 
out of a cupboard, or off a table in the chapel. 

THE PRISONER'S DEFENCE: 

I rest entirely on your lordship's judgement; I did not 
knowingly do it to offend against the laws of my country; 
it is not probable I should do such a thing knowingly when 
I married my own son there. I never knowingly or wilfully  
transgressed the laws of my country; I married by a 
license, & that I thought a proper authority. 

WILLIAM FORREST: I have lived in the Savoy upwards of 20 
years. 

Q.: During that time, how have you looked upon the Savoy to 
be under the church jurisdiction? Did you look upon it to 
be in diocese of London, or what? 

FORREST: I am not a judge of that question. 

Q.: Have you served offices there? 

FORREST: I have served overseer of the poor twice; I have 
never had notice given me, for not attending any where 
else. I never heard of the bishop of London, or any of his 
officers interfering there; neither was I ever called upon 
as chapel-warden, in the bishop's court; nor ever heard 
that any was called upon in my time; nor did I attend any 
of the bishop's visitations; nor did I ever hear that there 
has been any of the bishop's jurisdiction exercised there. 

Q.: Is it a parish? 

FORREST: No, it's a precinct. 

Q.: If a man dies there, where is his Will proved? 

FORREST: In the Commons, where I suppose the administration 
is granted. 

Q.: Did you ever know any marriage by license there before 
the late act? 

FORREST: I never did see one. 

GEORGE DORMAN: I have lived in Savoy about 20 years; and 
look it to be a jurisdiction of itself with regard to 
ecclesiastical affairs; and I believe no bishop or 
archdeacon ever came to do any acts there. I always looked 
upon it as a place peculiar to itself. I have served 
overseer and chapel-warden. Wills are proved in the 
Commons. 

Q.: Do you know of any marriage there with a license before 
the last act of parliament? 

DORMAN: Yes, about 25 years ago; it was granted by the 
bishop of London. 

Q.: Where do you baptize your children born there? 

DORMAN: At the Savoy chapel; and in the chapel-yard we bury 
our dead. 

Q.: for the Prisoner: Do you know of any license ever 
granted by a minister to any under that jurisdiction? 

DORMAN: No, I don't know that. 

Q.: Before whom are your sworn chapel-warden? 

DORMAN: Before a justice of the peace; we assemble in the 
vestry-room; we are but a few people. The money raised for 
the poor, & other charges, is accounted for in the vestry 
among ourselves. 

Q.: Does not the crown pay most of the money? 

DORMAN: No; I know of no such thing. 

Q.: Did you ever see a justice's warrant to the Savoy? 

DORMAN: Only to maintain the poor; which is directed to the 
church or chapel-warden. 

RICHARD PHILIPS: I am clerk to the chapel in the precinct 
of the Savoy, & have been for about five years; and I look 
upon it to be a peculiar jurisdiction. 

Q.: How do you govern yourselves? 

PHILIPS: There is a chapel-warden & overseer, but they do 
not qualify themselves at the Commons. 

Q.: Who repairs the chapel? 

PHILIPS: The minister has done several repairs. 

Q.: Has Mr. Wilkinson been minister since you came there? 

PHILIPS: Yes; & I know he has granted licenses; he did so 
before the late act of parliament, and all my time, & they 
have been registered in that manner. 

Q.: Have you known any licenses brought there from other 
courts & rejected, as denying their authority? 

PHILIPS: I have several & was never called to account for 
it. 

Q.: Look upon that book. 

PHILIPS: It's the register book, and the oldest we have. 

Council: Read there. 

PHILIPS: July 6th, married THOMAS PAGE & ELIZABETH PRICE by 
license, 1687. Here are a great many by publication of 
banns, and some by License; we still do it in the same 
manner, but more perfectly. 

Q.: Did you ever see in any register any alterations, where 
it was by a different license? 

PHILIPS: I think I have seen two instances, one by license 
from the archbishop of Canterbury, & the other from the 
bishop of London; all the other licenses are by the 
minister of the Savoy; & I thought them good licenses. I 
never knew any jurisdiction as to the bishop of London or 
Canterbury, to be exercised in this chapel; nor never 
looked on ourselves as under any visitation. I looked upon 
it that the minister himself was ordinary, and sufficient 
to grant licenses. 

Q.: What is the form of your licenses? 

PHILIPS: The form of them is this: That whereas such & such 
persons, aged so & so, are desirous to live in the holy 
state of matrimony, without publication of banns, &c. 
therefore he consents that the same may be solemnized in 
St. John Baptist's chapel; and signs his name JOHN 
WILKINSON, ordinary & minister. (He produces a license on 
parchment). This is the License the pair were married with. 
It was filled up before they were married, and signed by 
WILKINSON before it was filled up. 

Q.: Do you remember anything of the marriage of VERNON? 

PHILIPS: I do; I remember it was very remarkable. VERNON & 
Miss POITIER came three or four days running, and desired 
to be married; they were refused, because she was something 
under age. They could not be married unless she had her 
friend's consent. 

Q.: Who refused it? 

PHILIPS: Mr. [John] Grierson & I did. The last day they 
came, they brought two gentlemen along with them (who have 
been sworn) to facilitate the matter. She said she had a 
father, but her father & mother had been parted several 
years. But she said, as for me, my father don't care if I 
go to the devil. We said, you must have the consent of 
them, or else you must not be married. Then Mr. DEATH, and 
the other gentleman, went to her mother with a paper; for 
Miss [POITIER] said she would never go home till they were 
married; and upon this the two gentlemen returned, and 
produced the mother's consent, and they both testified it, 
and said they saw the mother sign it; and we made them sign 
their names and placed of abode. Then we filled up the 
license, and they assented to every part contained therein. 
The one declared himself a batchelor, the other a single 
woman. 

Q.: Do you think Mr. [John] Grierson used such caution for 
fear of offending against the act of parliament? 

PHILIPS: He was very cautious always in these cases. 

Q.: How many couples have you married in the chapel since 
the commencement of the act? 

PHILIPS: I reckon about 1,400 couples. 

Q.: How many hundreds of them lived in the precinct? 

PHILIPS: There were many came distressed out of the 
country, big with child. 

Q.: How many families live in the precinct? 

PHILIPS: There may be 30 to 40 families. 

Q.: How many couples might come distressed out of the 
country? 

PHILIPS: There might come 900 big with child, some who 
could not be married any where else. 

Council: Was you appointed surrogate? 

PHILIPS: I was appointed clerk, not surrogate; for I did 
not apprehend I had any-thing to do with the bishop. 

Q.: Where might Mr. WILKINSON himself be at the time of 
this marriage? 

PHILIPS: I believe he was not far off. There were at that 
time bills of indictment and warrants against him, which 
obliged him to abscond. In these indictments he was charged 
with clandestine marriages.

Q.: When did he absent himself? 

PHILIPS: Sometime the latter end of May; & in May he 
applied to this gentleman to officiate for him; this was 
after the bills of indictment. 

Q.: Did Mr. WILKINSON keep a curate before these bills of 
indictment were found? 

PHILIPS: He has had some. 

Q.: Does Mr. [John] Grierson officiate in reading prayers, 
or preaching? 

PHILIPS: No; there is one Mr. BROOKS does that. 

Q.: Had Mr. WILKINSON a curate to solemnize marriages 
before? 

PHILIPS: No, he always did that himself. 

Q.: How is it possible he should think of Mr. [John] 
Grierson? How did he find him out? Is he a settled 
minister? 

PHILIPS: Really I can't tell; he used to appear in his gown 
as a clergyman. Mr. WILKINSON being obliged to abscond, 
sent for him to fill up that part. People would come to be 
married, and we must have someone to do it, or they would 
think themselves very ill used. 

Q.: How came Mr. [John] Grierson to be thought of? 

PHILIPS: Because a little before he married his own son 
there. 

Q.: Do you ever take down where they come from? 

PHILIPS: Always; that is put down in the minute book. 

Q.: Then you married them, let them come from what parish 
they would. 

PHILIPS: We did, either in England or Scotland. We married 
one couple that came from Dumfries, and another from Dunbar 
in Scotland. 

Q.: How long has Mr. WILKINSON'S salary been stopped by the 
lords of the treasury? 

PHILIPS: About two years before I came, as I heard. 

Q.: Did Mr. [John] Grierson know the reason of Mr. 
WILKINSON'S not being able to do the duty himself? 

PHILIPS: I believe not. 

Q.: Who applied to him for this license? 

PHILIPS: I did myself. 

Q.: Did you ever take an oath concerning persons under age? 

PHILIPS: Yes. 

Q.: Do you fill up the license without an affidavit? 

PHILIPS: When he is absent I fill them up. 

Q.: Who takes the affidavit when WILKINSON is absent? 

PHILIPS: The minister that marries them. 

Q.: Did you ever know an instance where WILKINSON or [John] 
GRIERSON took an affidavit? 

PHILIPS: There have been some, but how many I can't say. 

Q.: Did you ever know [John] Grierson or WILKINSON proceed 
against any of the 900 women that came big with child, for 
fornication? 

PHILIPS: No, never. 

Q.: Do you know whether [John] GRIERSON did officiate any-
where else before? 

PHILIPS: I can't tell; but have heard he married people at 
May-Fair chapel. 

* Here the license was read for the marriage of VERNON & 
POITIER. 

Council: Was you by when this was signed & filled up? 

PHILIPS: I was. 

Council: Have you often banns published for people that do 
not live in the precinct? 

PHILIPS: We often have.

Council: Do you ever read the rubrick in the common prayer-
book, before the order of matrimony? 

PHILIPS: I can't say. 

GUILTY: "To be transported for 14 years." 


BLI GONZALEZ ALIAS JOHN SYMMONDS ALIAS SPANISH
JACK
After a varied Criminal Career he was finally executed at
Maidstone, 18th of April, 1756, for stealing a Silver Tankard

GONZALEZ was descended of reputable parents residing
at Alicante, in Spain, who were exceedingly careful of his
education, intending him for Holy Orders; but all their hopes in
him were disappointed, for he absconded from school and entered
on board a man-of-war. Having remained some years in this
station, he engaged on board a ship-of-war belonging to England,
and sailed up the Levant.

After staying some time at Alexandria, Smyrna and other
places, the ship put in to Gibraltar, and was ordered to be laid up;
in consequence of which he entered on board a Dutch vessel. He
served in several English privateers during the war, and when
peace was restored joined one of the gangs of smugglers that
infested the coasts of Kent and Sussex.

His connections among the English induced him to change
his name to John Symmonds, by which appellation we shall
hereafter distinguish him. Having acquired a sum of money, he
repaired to London and formed an acquaintance with a number of
people, of both sexes, of the most wicked and abandoned
character. Having spent his money in scenes of riot and
intoxication, he obtained credit for divers small sums from
different people, whom he amused by assuring them that he was
entitled to prize-money, on the receipt of which he would pay
them.

His creditors becoming importunate for their money, he
formed the resolution of going again to sea; but, not being able to
enter into such advantageous engagements as he expected, he
became acquainted with an infamous gang of robbers, and joined
in their iniquitous practices. They committed a variety of robberies
in the fields near Stepney. As Symmonds was passing along
Ragfair he was seized by a person whom he, in conjunction with
other villains, had robbed the preceding evening. This event
occasioned him to reflect on his dangerous situation; and, judging
that if he continued his illegal courses he could not long escape
detection, he determined to give information against his
accomplices.

He communicated his design to M'Daniel, and
accompanied him and other thief-takers one evening to a house
where they were drinking, when Mandevile, Holmes and Newton
were taken into custody, but two others of the gang escaped
through a window. Mandevile, Holmes and Newton were
convicted on the evidence of Symmonds, and executed, in October,
1751, at Tyburn.

For the apprehension of the three malefactors
abovementioned the thief-takers received a reward of four hundred
and twenty pounds, of which they allowed the evidence only ten
pounds; and by various contrivances they kept him in custody till
he had expended all but thirty shillings of that sum. They imagined
that they might obtain further emolument through his means, and
therefore endeavoured to keep him in a state of poverty, that he
might be the more readily induced to return to his former practices,
expecting that he would betray his new accomplices into the fate
suffered by Mandevile, Holmes and Newton.

Symmonds had for some time lived on terms of great
intimacy with Anthony and Emanuel de Rosa, the murderers of Mr
Fargues. Having engaged to go on the highway with Dissent and
Branch (executed for the murder of Mr Brown), they called at his
lodgings; but the girl with whom he cohabited dissuaded him from
accompanying them. Upon seeing the watch and other property
stolen from Mr Brown, he regretted his yielding to the persuasions
of the girl, and upbraided her as the cause of his losing a share of
so valuable a booty.

The many robberies he had committed in London and its
adjacencies having rendered him so notorious that he thought
himself in great danger of being apprehended, he determined to go
into the country. Having travelled to Rochester, he formed an
acquaintance with a fellow named Smith, who was publicly known
to live by felonious practices.

Symmonds and Smith went to a public-house in Rochester,
and while they were drinking some punch found an opportunity of
concealing a silver tankard, which they carried off unperceived. On
the following day they were apprehended, and committed to
Maidstone Jail -- Symmonds to be tried for stealing the tankard,
and Smith to appear as evidence for the Crown.

While Symmonds was under sentence of death he
acknowledged that till he was convinced the term of his life was
nearly expired he had not reflected on the most important
consequences that would result from his iniquitous proceedings,
and that if he had escaped conviction he should have returned to
his usual practices. He appeared to repent of his former wickedness
with unfeigned sincerity, and expressed hopes of forgiveness
through the merits of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

From the prison to the place of execution he was seriously
employed in prayer, and when under the gallows he warned the
people to guard against following such courses as had produced his
destruction. After some time spent in devout prayer with a
reverend divine, the executioner put in force the sentence of the
law.


CHARLES FREDERICK WYSENTHALL
Transported in the year 1756, for subornation of perjury.

 This was a foreigner, and a very bad character. He was a Dresden
lace-maker, took female apprentices to his business, and a most
unworthy master he proved himself; constantly corrupting their morals,
and violating their persons.

 He was tried at the Old Bailey, on the 4th of May, 1756, charged
with subornation of perjury. Inasmuch as the receiver of stolen goods
is by the law considered criminal as the thief, so the suborner of
perjury is equally guilty of the destructive crime, as the man who
himself takes a false oath.

 The offence of Wysenthall was marked with every aggravation. Two
of his apprentices, whom he had debauched, he influenced to swear a
rape against an innocent man, whom they had never known even by sight.
As this offence, if fully proved, affects life, this villain deserved a
halter; but he was only sentenced to a year's imprisonment in Newgate,
and at the expiration thereof, to be transported for life to the
plantations in America.


LIEUTENANT JOHN LANDER
Executed on Pennenden Heath, in Kent, 16th of August, 1756, for
Murder

JOHN LANDER was a lieutenant in the garrison of
Chatham, and, having just received a month's pay, agreed with
another officer, wild and unthinking as himself, to set off to
London. For this purpose they hired a post-chaise, and ordered the
post-boy to drive at full speed, or they would run him through the
body. The first stage the boy, thus intimidated, whipped the poor
horses until he broke their wind, which proved infinite sport to the
inhuman fellows whom they dragged after them.

At Dartford they changed horses, and no sooner were they
clear of the town than they repeated the word of command to the
fresh boy, who accordingly urged the poor horses to their speed. At
the foot of Shooter's Hill he slackened his pace, when they shouted
to him to drive the same pace. On his answering the horses could
not gallop up the hill, they jumped out of the chaise, and one of the
degraded officers knocked the poor boy down, when Lander,
drawing his sword, ran him through the body with such force that
it actually pinioned him to the ground.

This ungovernable and base transaction of course impeded
their journey. Instead of revelling in London they were sent to
Rochester Jail, and brought to trial, when Lander was found guilty
of wilful murder. He was executed on the 16th of August, 1756.



WILLIAM CANNICOTT
Executed at Tyburn, 20th of September, 1756, for the Murder of his
Wife

WILLIAM CANNICOTT was about forty years of age, and
had been a livery-servant from a youth, though his parents, who
were substantial people, would fain have had him learn a trade.

When he was about twenty years old he married Dorothy
Tamlyn, a woman nearly forty years of age, with whom he had
lived as fellow-servant; and soon after he set her up in a little
haberdasher's shop in Boswell Court. This shop she kept nearly ten
years, when Cannicott, being then servant to the late Admiral
Matthews, took a house for her in East Street and furnished it to be
let out in lodgings.

They lived peaceably, if not happily, together until, without
his knowledge, she sold two suits of his best clothes, though she
had no reasonable pretence or provocation, for he constantly gave
her all his money, and she received, without any account, the
profits that arose from the house. Cannicott was naturally
passionate, and coming in haste one day to put on a suit of these
clothes, upon a particular occasion, he was so exasperatdd to find
they had been sold by his wife that he swore he would never come
home to her any more. He took a lodging in a distant part of the
town instead of going home to his wife, though he still continued
to give her his money.

In this new neighbourhood he was of course considered as
a single man; and indeed he was soon after hired to a gentleman in
Cavendish Square who declared that he would not hire a married
man. Among Cannicott's fellow-servants there was a young
woman who waited upon his master's daughter, to whom he found
a secret pleasure in recommending himself by many little acts of
kindness, with which he saw she was pleased. He loved her not
only for her person but for her mind, which was continually being
improved by the free conversation of her amiable lady. As love is
always vigilant and suspicious, he discovered that his master had a
design upon her virtue, and that, at the same time, she was also
addressed by a young man who would have married her, and
whom he thought she would consent to marry, if he did not profit
by the influence he had over her by soliciting her for himself. In
this situation he determined to gain her if it was possible, let the
consequence be what it would. From this time his courtship
commenced, and the girl, sincerely believing he had no other
connection, consented to have him. When this was agreed he
resolved to leave his place, because the girl would not consent to
conceal her marriage from her lady, nor would her lady part with
her upon that account, though his master would, notwithstanding,
think it a sufficient reason to part with him. In pursuance of this
scheme he hired himself to the Earl of Darnley, and on the 3rd of
June, 1754, he married his new wife at Marylebone Chapel.

He went into Lord Darnley's place the same day, and his
wife continued in hers a twelvemonth after they were married, and
might have continued there longer if her master had not pursued
his design with more importunity than before, notwithstanding the
declaration of her marriage, which, upon that account, as well as
others, she had determined to make as soon as it should have taken
place. As these solicitations made her very uneasy, she complained
of them to her husband, and he advised her to give warning. She
immediately followed his counsel, but stayed five months longer to
oblige her lady, who was very desirous she should go with her to
Bath. When they came back, and her master found she was
determined to go, and that another maid had been engaged in her
stead, he was so enraged at his disappointment that he would
scarcely suffer her to stay long enough in the house to put her
clothes together. When she had come away Cannicott hired a
lodging for her as near him as he could, that he might spend every
leisure minute in her company; and he perceived, with unspeakable
pleasure, an excessive fondness in her which increased his own.

One Hobson, a coachman in Lord Darnley's family, knew
Cannicott when he lived in another place, and knew also his first
wife. It happened that the wife of this Hobson had become
acquainted with some person in the house where Cannicott had
taken a lodging for his second wife, and thus discovered the secret.
His second wife, however, she did not know where to find, for she
had removed into the country when Cannicott went out of town
with his lord, and had not yet returned; but word was immediately
sent to his wife, and she took every opportunity to haunt and
reproach her husband with his new connection. This made him
extremely wretched, not only because it was irksome in itself, but
because it kept him in continual dread and solicitude lest they 
should find out his favourite and interrupt her peace as they had
interrupted his. As his fears increased, so did his caution: he took
another lodging for his young wife, whom he called Nanny, at a
considerable distance, and required her never to call, on any
pretence, where she had lodged before. With this request she
cheerfully complied, without knowing or inquiring why it was
made; but her old landlady, once meeting her by chance, dogged
her home, and immediately acquainted Hobson and his wife where
she lodged, who with great expedition sent Mrs Cannicott to
acquaint her with her situation. Here was an end at once to all the
stolen felicity. Nanny, at the next interview, reproached him; but
she reproached him with such tenderness as showed less anger than
love. She was overwhelmed with grief, and as often as she could
find words she entreated that he would never attempt to see her
more, but leave her to struggle alone with her misfortunes, and
endeavour to get into another place. He could not consent to leave
her, but promised to procure her a place. This indeed he attempted,
but without success.

She had twice removed her lodging, but was still followed
by Mrs Cannicott, who acquainted the neighbourhood with her
story. Nanny, therefore, would not suffer Cannicott to visit her in
her lodgings, where it was known she could not be his lawful wife;
and though he persuaded her sometimes to meet him early in the
morning, yet, as it was chiefly in the street, that afforded him no
pleasure.

Hobson and his wife in the meantime fomented the
difference between Cannicott and his first wife, telling her that he
had received his wages, and urging her to solicit him for more
money. This she did, with threats of prosecution if he refused,
saying that she could and would hang him for having two wives.

As he believed this to be in her power, he restrained his
aversion, for fear she should execute it, and therefore appointed to
meet her on Thursday evening at the Red Lion, in Berkeley
Square, to take a little walk. Being obliged to put up at a public-
house near Tottenham Court, by a sudden storm of thunder and
rain, she asked him for money, which he refused to give her, when
she had recourse first to expostulation, then reproach, and then
threatening, which threw him into a dreadful rage, in the midst of
which he broke away from her and she followed him. As they were
going downstairs he saw a cord hanging over the banisters, upon
which he conceived a design to use it as an instrument to murder
her, and therefore snatched it up and put it into his pocket. When
they came out of the house they went towards home. Bidding her
go on, he prepared the cord for the murder. Having tied a noose in
one end and passed the other end through it, he walked apace after
her and, coming behind her, threw it over her head and drew it
tight. She immediately seized it with her hands, and struggled so
hard that the cord broke, and he feared she would overpower him.
He then thought of his scissors, and, drawing them from the sheath,
he thrust them many times into her throat and body, upon which
her grasp relaxed, and she soon expired. He was soon afterwards
arrested and examined by the justices, and though many
circumstances appeared against him, yet the first day he confessed
nothing; but the next day, finding that they had found out his
second wife, and confined her upon suspicion that she had been
accessory to the fact, he immediately accused himself, that she
might be discharged; and, having fully disclosed the whole affair,
he pleaded guilty at his trial, and died with great penitence and
resignation, being executed at Tyburn, on the 20th of September,
1756.



JOHN BERRY, STEPHEN M'DANIEL, JAMES EGAN, JAMES
SALMON AND -- BLEE
A new Species of Murderers, who conspired against the Lives of
many Innocent Men

OUR readers might imagine that we have already related
every species of murder, and it will hardly be credited, that so 
diabolical a conspiracy could be engendered in the mind of man, as
that of enticing innocent youths to commit a robbery, and then
apprehending them, for the sake of the reward, thus making a very
trade of human blood. This infernal plot was however long
successfully carried on, and many an innocent man fell a victim to
the pretended violated laws of the country.

The head, or captain, as they dignified him, was Berry; a
runner, or as commonly denominated a 'Thief-taker', who lived at
the bottom of what was then called George-yard, at the bottom of
Hatton-Garden, and Blee was his servant.

M'Daniel had kept a public-house in Holborn; Egan was a
shoemaker, in Drury-lane; and Salmon a leather-breechesmaker, in
Drury-lane.

These villains, horrid to relate, conspired together, in
accusing innocent people of crimes which took away life, for the
reward offered. Various were the diabolical plans they laid for this
purpose.

At one time, they enticed two victims to join them in
committing a highway robbery upon one of their own gang; a third
was to purchase the stolen goods; and the other was to apprehend
the intended victims, permitting his accomplice, who had been
concerned in the robbery, to escape, and then to join the party
robbed and the receiver in the prosecution. But if, through the
information of the other two, the thief-taker, who proposed and
assisted in the robbery, was apprehended, then, in order to preserve
him, the prosecution was not supported.

These villains exhibited an accusation of robbery against
two young men, named Newman and March. Upon their trial, they
related the manner in which they had been seduced; but the
evidence of the thief-takers was so strong, that they were convicted
and suffered death.

A poor man, named Tyler, was met by one of the gang,
who said he would make him a present of a horse, for which he
had no further occasion. The unfortunate man joyfully received the
horse from his apparently generous benefactor; by whom be was
advised to take the beast to an inn in Smithfield, there to be taken
care of till he should determine in what manner to dispose of him.
Before he could reach Smithfield, he was seized by Egan, who
took him before the sitting alderman; and it being sworn that he
had stolen the horse, he was committed to Newgate, and soon
afterwards hanged. In the year 1753, they charged an innocent
man, named Woodland, with felony; and he was committed, and
sentenced to suffer death: but he was so fortunate as to receive a
pardon, on condition of transportation. The villains, however,
claimed, and actually received, the reward, in consequence of
having prosecuted him to conviction.

Joshua Kidden, whom we shall mention hereafter, was the
next who fell a sacrifice to their diabolical artifices. It would be
tedious to recount the particulars relating to the many people who
suffered death through the false evidence of these atrocious
villains; and especially as the several cases bear much similarity to
each other. We shall now proceed to a narrative of the fact of
which they were convicted.

The money obtained by the conviction of Kidden being
nearly expended, they employed themselves in concerting new
schemes of villany for recruiting their finances. It was determined
to employ a man named Blee, a fellow of abandoned principles,
who had for some time acted as an assistant to Berry, in attending
in the fields about Islington till he could decoy two idle boys to
consent to join him in a robbery.

They all held a meeting in an arbour belonging to a public-
house, the sign of Sir John Oldcastle, in the neighbourhood of
Islington, where they appointed the time for committing the
robbery, and that it should be near Deptford, on account of the
inhabitants of Greenwich having advertised twenty pounds for the
apprehending any highwayman or footpad, in addition to the
reward allowed by parliament. Their wicked plan being settled,
they separated; for, lest they should be suspected of holding an
improper correspondence, they were particularly careful not to be
seen together, where there was a probability of their persons being
known.

The time for holding the assizes being arrived, Mr Cox,
having a warrant for apprehending Berry, Salmon, M'Daniel, and
Egan, went to Maidstone, having Blee in custody. Mr Cox waited
till the conclusion of the trial, but had no sooner heard the foreman
of the jury pronounce the prisoners guilty, then he caused the four
iniquitous accomplices to be taken into custody. They obstinately
persisted in declaring themselves innocent; and even when
confronted with Blee, denied having the least knowledge of him:
but, on the following day, they severally requested to be admitted
evidences for the crown; in this none of them were indulged, the
evidence of Blee being deemed sufficient for their conviction.

They were removed to London, in order for trial, as being
accessories before the fact. The jury were not able to determine
whether the prisoners came within the description of the statutes
fourth and fifth of Philip and Mary, or third and fourth of William
and Mary, and therefore referred the case to the decision of the
twelve judges.

The special verdict being brought to a hearing before the
judges in the hall of Serjeant's inn, counsel was heard on both
sides, and it was unanimously determined that the offences charged
against the prisoners did not come within the meaning of the
statutes above-mentioned: but orders were given for the indicting
them for a conspiracy.

An indictment being found against them, they were again
put to the bar at the Old Bailey, and the evidences exhibited
against them on their former trial being recapitulated, the jury
pronounced them guilty, and they were sentenced to be punished in
the following manner: Berry and M'Daniel to stand on the pillory,
once at the end of Hatton Garden, in Holborn, and once at the end
of King Street in Cheapside; Salmon and Egan to stand once in the
middle of West Smithfield, and the second time at the end of
Fetter-lane, in Fleet Street; and all to be imprisoned in Newgate for
the space of seven years; and upon the expiration of that time not
to be discharged without finding sureties to be bound in the
penalties of a thousand pounds each for their good behaviour for
the seven following years.

March the 5th, 1756, M'Daniel and Berry were set on the
pillory at the end of Hatton Garden, and were so severely treated
by the populace that their lives were supposed to be in danger.

Egan and Salmon were taken to Smithfield on Monday the
eighth of the same month, amidst a surprising concourse of people,
who no sooner saw the offenders exposed on the pillory, then they
pelted them with stones, brick-bats, potatoes, dead dogs and cats,
and other things. The constables now interposed; but being soon
overpowered, the offenders were left wholly to the mercy of an
enraged mob. The blows they received occasioned their beads to
swell to an enormous size; and they were nearly strangled by
people hanging to the skirts of their clothes. They had been on the
pillory about half an hour, when a stone striking Egan on the head,
he immediately expired.

This man's fate, however illegally he met his death, will
cause but little sorrow; yet, living under wholesome laws, we
would not see even such a wretch as Egan punished but by the
sentence of a court.

The sheriffs, fearing that should the survivors be again
exposed to the vengeance of an enraged people they would share
the fate of their companion in iniquity, the remainder of the
sentence of pillory was on that account remitted; but the length of
their sentence of imprisonment, added to the great amount of the
sureties for their good behaviour after the expiration thereof, might
have been considered tantamount to imprisonment for life; a fate
well suited to such mischievous, hard-hearted, and unrelenting
villains.

They, however, soon died in Newgate, thus ridding the
world of the principal part of this terrific gang.



JOSHUA KIDDEN
A Victim of the horrid Conspirators, whose crimes and
punishments are described above

WE have already given the names of some of the devoted
victims of these conspirators; but as they were chiefly selected
from the very lowest part of society, the particulars of their
unhappy cases are lost in obscurity.

The subject of this melancholy history, was in a superior
rank of life to his innocent fellow-sufferers; and, like them, it will
be found had taken no part in the pretended robbery of which he
was accused.

The father of Kidden, was a reputable watch-maker in
London, and having given his son a classical education, bound him
apprentice to an apothecary; but being fond of idleness, he was
soon discontented with culling simples and pounding roots. His
indulgent parents, thinking that the watery element might better
suit his lazy turn of mind, accordingly procured him a situation as
a petty-officer in the royal navy; in which he remained during six
years.

Having now returned to his paternal home, his father,
fondly hoping that he had settled his mind to a sea-faring life, hired
masters to instruct him in the theoretical parts of navigation, and
every other branch of that art; but he neglected his opportunity, and
hung about his father, a useless and expensive burden; however,
we find no propensity in him to dishonesty.

At length, somewhat arousing from his apathy, he made an
essay to earn his own bread, and for that purpose ranged him self
among the porters, at the end of Fleet-market; for he had neglected
to acquire any trade or business.

Going one evening, after the toil of a hard day's work, to
regale himself with the London labourer's most wholesome
beverage, porter, he was unfortunately marked by the villain Blee,
one of the gang last mentioned, who conceived him a fit object
upon whom to exercise his hellish design.

Kidden, who had uncertain employ, told Blee that be was in
want of work; and the latter engaging to procure some for him, got
him lodgings in an alley in Chick-lane, where he continued from
Friday till the following Monday, when be was told that there was
a job at Tottenham to remove some effects of a gentleman, which
would otherwise be seized for rent.

At the time appointed, Kidden and Blee went to Tottenham;
and having waited at a public-house till the approach of night, Blee
went out, with a pretence of speaking to the gentleman whose
goods were to be removed; but, on his return, said that the business
could not be transacted that night.

They now quitted the public-house, and proceeded towards
London, after Blee had given Kidden eighteen-pence, as a
compensation for the loss of his day's work. On the London side of
Tottenham they observed a chaise, and a woman sitting on the side
of the road near it. Ridden asked her if she was going to London;
she replied in the affirmative; but he walked forwards, paying no
attention to what she said, till he heard Blee call him back,
demanding to know why be walked so fast. Kidden turning back,
observed that Blee was robbing the woman; on which be declined
a nearer approach, disdaining to have any concern in such a
transaction: but Blee, running up to him, said, 'I have got the
money': and would have prevailed on him to take half a crown; but
this he declined.

Blee then desired Kidden not to leave him; and the latter
staying two or three minutes, a thief-taker, named M'Daniel,
rushed from a hedge, and seizing Kidden, told him that he was his
prisoner.

The woman thus pretendedly robbed was one Mary Jones;
and all the parties going before a magistrate, it was positively
sworn that Kidden was the robber, and that he took twenty-five
shillings from the woman; on which he was committed to
Newgate.

Mary Jones, the woman supposed to have been robbed,
lodged in Broker's-alley, Drury-lane; and the friends and relations
of Ridden, assured in their own minds of his innocence, went
thither to inquire after her character, which they found to be so
totally abandoned, that they had no doubt but that the whole was a
pre-concerted plot for his destruction.

When the trial came on, Mary Jones, and two thief-takers
swore positively to the unhappy lad, who was capitally convicted,
and sentenced to die; and a report was industriously circulated that
he had committed several robberies as a footpad; but this was only
the effort of villany, to depreciate the character of an innocent
man, in order to receive the reward for his conviction, which was
actually paid.

After sentence of death was passed, Ridden made a
constant, uniform, and solemn avowal of his innocence. He told
how the thief-takers had imposed on him; and his tale was
universally credited, when it was too late to save him from the fatal
consequences of their villainous devices.

Repeated applications were made that mercy might be
extended to the unhappy convict; but these were in vain. The
warrant for his execution arrived, and he resigned himself to his
fate in the most becoming manner, lamenting the present disgrace
that his relations would undergo but entertaining no doubt that the
decrees of Providence would soon give ample testimony of his
innocence.

He resigned his innocent life to the executioner, after
pathetically addressing the multitude, and declaring again his
innocence, in the year 1756, greatly lamented.

From a comparison of the circumstances of the case of
Ridden, and other miserable youths whom this destructive gang,
under pretence of being thief-takers, for the ends of justice, bad
given evidence against, we fear there is too much reason to believe
that many more than those we have mentioned, fell victims to their
crimes.



CHRISTOPHER WOODLAND
Another Victim of the horrid gang of Thief-takers

The cases of the wretched men who fell victims to the
horrid plots of the thief-takers already mentioned, shew how many
arts had been practised in seeking the innocent blood of their
fellow-creatures.

The fate of Woodland, however, is deserving of much less
pity than that of Kidden; the former consented to join in a burglary,
which, though a trap laid for him, it proved that he was a man,
ready to join any hardened gang of robbers.

They thus practised upon Woodland. Berry, the head of the
gang, hired a single room of one Mr Eveness, on Saffron-hill,
ostensibly for James Egan, another of the gang. They put into this
room some mean articles of furniture, and thus made the place
suited to their purpose. Then Berry, M'Daniel, Egan, and Mary
Jones, who had now become associated with them, ordered Blee to
procure a victim, who might join some of them in robbing this
room.

Blee, ever the drudge of the gang, pitched upon a half-
witted fellow, the immediate subject of the present enquiry.

Egan, who had been a shoemaker, took possession of the
room, and hammered upon his lapstone; not to mend soles, but to
make souls arise from the bodies of his victims. Blee intoxicated
Woodland, and then proposed what he called a plan to ensure the
road to wealth. The sot, delighted with the offer, readily joined him
in breaking into the shoe-maker's room, where he was assured a
large booty might be obtained.

Woodland committed the burglary, and was followed by
Blee. He seized some bundles of clothes, placed there for the
purpose, and was advised by his deceitful companion, to offer
them for sale to Mary Jones. The gang rushed into her apartment,
seized Woodland, but permitted Blee to escape. They took him
before a justice of the peace, swore to the burglary, and
consequently he was committed to Newgate.

As he did not appear to be an old offender, no other offence
being laid to his charge, the capital part of the indictment, the
burglary, was not pressed; and he was found guilty alone of
stealing.

This disappointed the gang of their reward, as he was
sentenced to transportation only, and was sent to America.



ADMIRAL BYNG
Shot to death on board the Monarque, at Spithead, for
Misbehaviour before the French Fleet in the Mediterranean

THIS unfortunate victim to popular clamour, and political
intrigue, was the second son of George Byng, a distinguished naval
commander, in the reign of George the second, who, in reward for
his brilliant services, was elevated to the peerage in 1721, by the
titles of Baron Byng, and Viscount Torrington. John Byng, the
subject of this memoir, was brought up to his father's profession
from his earliest youth, and up to the time of his embarking in the
expedition to Minorca, which covered his character with disgrace,
and consigned him to an ignominious death, was generally
esteemed as one of the best officers in the navy.

During the latter years of George the Second's reign,
England was involved in a war with France, and the weak and
impotent administration who then directed the royal councils,
evinced their utter incapacity for the important duties which
devolved upon them, by their inability to check the alarming
encroachments of the French. In addition to great losses and
disasters inflicted upon our American colonies, the enemy had
made great havock upon our commerce in the Mediterranean and
other parts. The city of London presented a petition and
remonstrance to the king, in which the ministry was very roughly
handled, and the example of the metropolis was extensively
followed by many other portions of the empire, but the ministers
still remained in office.

In this agitated state of affairs, Admiral Byng was
appointed to the command of a fleet consisting of ten ships, with
which force he was to sail immediately to Gibraltar, where he was
to land a reinforcement for the garrison, and then to pursue the
French fleet, which it was supposed had been destined for North
America. At Gibraltar the Admiral learnt that the French fleet,
consisting of thirteen ships of the line, and a great number of
transports, with 15,000 troops on board, had sailed from Toulon,
and made a descent on Minorca, and were in possession of the
whole of the island, except the fortress and castle of St. Philip, into
which the commandant, General Blakeney, had retired with a very
small force, and remained closely besieged by the French troops
under the command of the Duke de Richelieu.

In communicating to the Lords of the Admiralty this
intelligence, Admiral Byng took occasion to make some very
severe remarks, not only on the wretched condition of the ships
under his command, but also on the neglected state of the
magazines and store-houses at Gibraltar, and the utter want of
wharfs and docks in which he might repair and refit the fleet. To
this he added, that the engineers and artillery men, then in
Gibraltar, who had been at Minorca, were decidedly of opinion that
no effectual assistance could be rendered to the British forces then
defending the fortress of St. Philip, and in this opinion he
expressed his concurrence.

This impolitic and ill-timed communication, no doubt had
considerable influence on the spirit in which the transactions,
wherein his fate was subsequently involved, were conducted. The
first part of his letter was a palpable impeachment of the ministry,
under whose orders he was acting; and the second seemed framed
for the sole purpose of preparing them for the disasters which so
quickly followed.

Having refitted, and taken on board a reinforcement from
the garrison, he sailed from Gibraltar, on the 8th of May, 1756, and
was joined off Minorca by the Phcenix. On approaching land, the
British flag was seen still flying on the castle of St. Philip, on
which, however, a tremendous bombardment was kept up from
several batteries over which the French flag waved. Admiral Byng
attempted to open a communication with the shore, but before this
could be effected, the French fleet, consisting of thirteen large
ships of war and four small vessels, appeared in sight, it being then
about six o'clock in the evening. During the night the fleets
separated, but about two the next day, they again came into
contact, and the line of battle was formed on both sides. Rear-
Admiral West attacked the enemy with great courage and
impetuosity, broke through their line, and disabled the ships
opposed to him. Admiral Byng, however, who had confused the
rear-admiral by contradictory orders, most cautiously kept out of
the engagement, and when urged by his captain to bear down upon
the enemy and carry on the engagement, very coolly declined
doing so, except with the whole line of ships. The French admiral,
though possessed of greater force, but already somewhat worsted,
seemed equally disinclined to carry on the battle, took advantage
of Admiral Byng's indecision, and edged off. The English gave
chase, but were outsailed by the French, and on the following
morning the enemy's fleet was quite out of sight.

After this unsatisfactory engagement, which had
commenced with such advantages on our part, the admiral called a
council of war, in which it was agreed to abandon Minorca to its
fate, and to return with the fleet to Gibraltar. The French redoubled
their exertions against the fortress of St. Philip, and after several
unsuccessful attempts, in which they were repulsed with great loss,
by the brave but scanty troops under the command of General
Blakeney, ultimately succeeded in carrying the outworks by storm.
The general finding himself cut off from all hope of relief from the
fleet, the fortress surrounded by batteries of the most destructive
power, and the whole island in the undisputed possession of the
enemy, was at length compelled to surrender, and the Duke de
Richelieu, in consideration of the bravery of the defence,
concluded an honourable capitulalion, in which it was agreed that
the garrison should march out with the honours of war, and be
conveyed to Gibraltar in French vessels.

Admiral Byng's letter announcing the engagement and its
issue, excited the strongest possible disappointment and
indignation. It was not made public till some days after its arrival;
but when published, every expression tending in any way to cast
blame on the ministers was carefully expunged. Their object was
accomplished to the full; the public mind took fire, and the rage
and clamour against the admiral was unbounded. This feeling was
artfully fomented by hired emissaries, who were sent into all
classes of society and places of amusement to denounce the
offender, and mobs were actually hired to hang and burn him in
effigy.

Sir Edward Hawke was sent out to supersede the
unfortunate admiral, who was brought home under arrest, and on
his arrival committed a close prisoner to an apartment in
Greenwich Hospital. On his own part, he was actuated by a
consciousness of having done his duty, and anxious for an
opportunity of justifying himself before a Court Martial.

On the meeting of Parliament Admiral Boscawen informed
the House that the King and the Board of Admiralty being
dissatisfied with the conduct of Admiral Byng, in a late action with
the French fleet in the Mediterranean, he was in custody in order to
take his trial. This communication was deemed to be necessary as a
mark of respect to the House of Commons, of which Admiral Byng
was a member, and to account for the absence of that officer from
his duties in the House.

The 28th December being fixed for the trial, the Court
martial assembled on board the St. George, at Portsmouth. admiral
Byng was escorted from Greenwich by a strong party of the Horse
Guards, and throughout the whole line of the road was violently
insulted by the people of every town and village through which the
cavalcade passed.

The sitting of the court continued for several days, and after
a laborious investigation of the evidence, determined that during
the engagement with the French fleet, Admiral Byng did not do his
utmost to take, seize, and destroy the ships and vessels of the
French king, nor to assist such of His Majesty's as were engaged in
so doing; and that he did not exert his utmost power for the relief
of the castle of St. Philip. All which being in breach of the 12th
article of the Laws for the Government of His Majesty's Navy, and
the said laws prescribing death for such dereliction of duty, the
court adjudged the said Admiral Byng to be shot to death, at such
time, and on board such ship, as the Lords of the Admiralty should
direct. But inasmuch as he had shown neither disaffection nor want
of personal courage, the court unanimously and earnestly
recommended him to mercy.

During the trial he behaved with a cheerful composure,
which only resulted from a consciousness of innocence. So strong
indeed was his confidence of receiving full and honourable
acquittal, that after he had finished his defence be ordered his
carriage to be in readiness to convey him to London.

When he became acquainted with the fatal decision of the
court, he expressed the strongest feelings of surprise and
indignation, but he showed nothing like fear or confusion. Many
members of the court overcome by grief and trepidation, actually
shed tears; but the victim of their judgment heard his doom without
the alteration of a single feature, and making a low obeisance to
the court retired.

Strong efforts were used to save the unhappy individual
from his impending fate. The Lords of the Admiralty forwarded to
the King the recommendation of the Court Martial to mercy,
accompanied by one from themselves, in which they urged strong
doubts of the legality of the sentence which had been passed. A
petition was also presented by Lord Torrington, and other relations
and friends of the unhappy convict also used their best exertions in
his behalf. So strong and so numerous were the appeals for mercy,
that hopes were entertained of its prevailing; but infamous arts
were used to whet the savage appetite of the multitude for blood,
and the cruel faction ultimately succeeded.

The cry of vengeance was loud throughout the land; sullen
clouds of suspicion and malevolence interposing, to obstruct the
genial influence of the most enviable prerogative that apper tains to
the throne. The Sovereign was given to understand that the
execution of Admiral Byng was absolutely necessary to appease
the fury of the people. His Majesty, in consequence of the
representation made by the Lords of the Admiralty, referred the
sentence to the consideration of the Twelve Judges, who returned a
unanimous opinion that the sentence was legal. This report being
transmitted from the privy-council to the Admiralty, their lordships
issued a warrant for executing the sentence of death on the twenty-
eighth day of February. Admiral Forbes, one of the Lords
Commissioners of the Admiralty, how ever, refused to sign the
warrant, on account of his conscientious scruples of its illegality.

The unfortunate Admiral being thus abandoned to the
stroke of justice, prepared himself for death with resignation and
tranquillity. He maintained a surprising cheerfulness to the last; nor
did he, from his condemnation to his execution, exhibit the least
sign of impatience or apprehension. During that interval he had
remained on board the Monarque, under a strong guard. On the day
fixed for his execution, the boats belonging to the squadron at
Spithead being manned and armed, containing their captains and
officers, with a detachment of marines, attended this solemnity in
the harbour, which was also crowded with an infinite number of
other boats and vessels filled with spectators. About noon, the
Admiral having taken leave of a clergyman, and two friends who
accompanied him, walked out of the great cabin to the quarter-
deck, where two files of marines were ready to execute the
sentence. He advanced with a firm deliberate step, a composed and
resolute countenance, and resolved to suffer with his face
uncovered, until his friends, representing that his looks would
possibly intimidate the soldiers, and prevent their taking aim
properly, he submitted to their request, threw his hat on the deck,
kneeled on a cushion, tied one white handkerchief over his eyes,
and dropped the other as a signal for his executioners, who fired a
volley so decisive, that five balls passed through his body, and he
droppcd down dead in an instant. The time in which this tragedy
was acted, from his walking out of the cabin to his being deposited
in the coffin, did not exceed three minutes.

Thus fell, to the astonishment of all Europe, Admiral John
Byng; who, whatever his errors and indiscretions might have been,
was at least rashly condemned, meanly given up, and cruelly
sacrificed to vile political intrigues.



EDWARD MORGAN
Executed and hung in Chains at Glamorgan, 6th of April, 1757, for
murdering a Family and burning down their House

THE circumstances which came out on the trial of Edward
Morgan, at the assizes of Glamorgan, were these. According to
annual custom he had been invited by Mr Rees Morgan, of
Lanvabon, his cousin, to spend the Christmas holidays. He had
partaken of the first day's festivity, and retired to bed along with a
young man, apprentice to Mr Rees Morgan. No sooner had he laid
his head upon the pillow, to use his own expression, than the devil
whispered to him to get up and murder the whole family, and he
determined to obey.

He first made an attempt on the apprentice, his bedfellow,
but he struggled so far as to effect his escape and hide himself. The
murderer then provided himself with a knife, which he sharpened
on a stone as deliberately as the butcher uses his steel.

Thus prepared, he softly crept to the bedchamber of his
host and hostess, and cut their throats in their sleep; then he
proceeded to the bed of their beautiful daughter, with whom the
monster had but an hour before been sporting and playing, and
with equal expedition, and by the same means, robbed her of life.

Not, however, satisfied with causing this inundation of
blood, he seized a firebrand and proceeded to the barn and
outhouses, setting fire to them all; and to complete the sum of his
crime he fired the dwelling-house, after plundering it of some
articles.

The Gloucester Journal of the year 1757 describes the
property consumed by fire on this melancholy occasion to have
been "the dwelling-house, a barn full of corn, a beast-house with
twelve head of cattle in it; and the farmer, his wife and daughter
were either murdered or perished in the flames."

It was at first conjectured that the unfortunate people had
perished in the conflagration. Their murdered bodies, it is too true,
were consumed to ashes; but the manner of their death was proved
partly by what the concealed apprentice overheard, but chiefly
from the murderer's own confession. Morgan was executed at
Glamorgan, on the 6th of April, 1757.



JOHN YOUNG
Convicted of Crimping, or Kidnapping, young Men for the Service
of the East India Company, 27th of April, 1757

TO the disgrace of a free country this man-stealing system
had long been carried on, and generally with impunity, in London.
Among the numerous descriptions of villains who prowled the
streets and environs of the metropolis, watching an opportunity to
plunder, were a number of ruffians with cockades in their hats,
calling themselves recruiting officers, watching country and
unguarded youths, whom they decoyed into public-houses, which
they had in all quarters of the town; there they plied them with
drink, and raised their hopes to enthusiasm, by the description of
the vast riches of the East, until they got them sworn in, as it was
called, after which nothing more was seldom heard of the wretched
dupe. They were hurried on board a ship, confined in a filthy hold,
on scanty provisions, and sent to some unfriendly clime, which
generally soon put an end to their miseries.

John Young was one of these mock captains. He trepanned
Henry Soppet, an honest sailor, while intoxicated, and confined
him in a spunging or lock-up house, in Chancery Lane, with a
design to send him to the East Indies. When sober, Jack, however,
made such an uproar, that the captain was fain to let go his
supposed prize. It did not rest here, for the tar instantly steered to
the Lord Mayor and tendered his complaint, in consequence of
which the man-stealer was apprehended, and brought to trial for
the offence, at the sessions at Guildhall, on the 27th of April, 1757,
and found guilty.

The crimp, or man-stealer, Young, pleaded guilty, and
endeavoured to cozen the Court, by a mock puritanical whine of
contrition, into mercy; but he soon found that he could not trick the
City magistrates, who ordered him to be imprisoned in Newgate
for twelve months, and at the expiration of that time to give
security for his good behaviour for two years more, himself with
one hundred pounds and two sureties in fifty pounds each.



WILLIAM ADAMS
A Custom-House Officer in London, executed at Tyburn on 18th of
May, 1757, for Forgery

WILLIAM ADAMS was in a position of public trust. The
department in which he served the public was the examining of
certificates of over-entries on the duties on wines. This gave him
an opportunity, with the greatest security, of committing the crime
for which he suffered, and it is possible he might long have
continued the practice had not an accidental omission of a date led
to the discovery.

It was usual for merchants landing their wines to pay the
duty; but if upon trial they appeared to be so damaged as not to be
saleable, upon a proper application, and giving up the wines for the
King's use, they were furnished with such certificates as entitled
them to the repayment of the duty.

It was a certificate of this kind which Adams forged; and
though such certificates are usually signed by six different persons,
who are severally checks upon each other, yet he had counterfeited
the names and signatures of all these, and actually received the
drawback on ten tuns of damaged wines, amounting to two
hundred and fifty-two pounds, for the use of Phineas Coats, in
whose name the certificate was forged. But it being immediately
discovered that a figure in the date was wanting, and he offering to
supply it himself, a suspicion arose, and an inquiry was
occasioned; upon which it was found that not one of the clerks
whose signatures appeared knew anything of the matter.

Adams was apprehended, committed, and brought to trial at
the Old Bailey for this forgery. He had little to urge in his defence
further than that it had been a practice to receive such certificates
as cash; that he had received this particular certificate as such; and
that if it was forged he knew nothing of the forgery. This had no
weight against the evidence which appeared against him, in the
opinion of the jury, who, without hesitation, pronounced him
guilty. He was executed on the same gallows with three other men.


RICHARD HUGHES
Executed at Tyburn, May 18, 1757, for forgery.

 THIS man for some years carried on business in an extensive way,
as a tailor and draper, in Arundel-street, Strand, London; therein had
acquired a capital, which he invested in a brewery, but it appears that
this speculation, extending beyond the tailor's yard, did not succeed
equal to the clipping of cloth. Hughes had been intrusted by his uncle,
the acting executor under his father's will, with a power of attorney,
to receive considerable sums of money, due to the estate of the
deceased; and while he stuck to his shop-board, he performed the trust
reposed in him with punctuality which acquired him: much credit among
his country relations.

 The brewery, a concern with which he was totally unacquainted,
soon brought him into difficulties; and to surmount which, he fixed his
thoughts upon certain South-sea stock, possessed by this uncle, and
found no peace of mind until he converted it to his own use. To this
end, he boldly went to the South-sea House, and asked the proper clerk
for a bank warrant of attorney, to sell stock. This is always kept at
the office, and it was then necessary that the power of transfer should
be witnessed by the minister, church-wardens, or overseers of the poor
of the parish, in which the owner lives.

 All these formalities, Hughes himself soon counterfeited, and in
due time presented the instrument at the South-sea House; and received
upwards of five hundred pounds.

 Had this ungrateful wretch suffered his iniquity to rest here, it
might have remained undiscovered until he could have replaced the
stock, which it may reasonably be presumed he meant to do; but the evil
genius that goads us on to the commission of crimes, ever leads us to a
precipice from which the victim is annihilated. So with Hughes, who in
attempting to cover the robbery, exposed himself to detection. No
sooner had he received the money, than he determined to pay a visit to
the man whom he had injured.

 The uncle received his nephew with much cordiality; until the
latter, lulled into security, and now deserted by his tempter, among
other ways of ingratiating himself farther into the old man's favours,
told him that, he had "brought his interest on the South-sea stock."
The old gentleman did not appear to take much notice of this at the
time, probably supposing he might have empowered him for that purpose;
but upon returning, he could find no authority vested in his nephew for
that, purpose; yet he determined not to sift the matter while the young
man remained his guest.

 No sooner had Hughes departed for London, than the uncle uncle
communicated his suspicion to the minister of the parish, who
disclaimed all knowledge of witnessing any instrument which could
warrant a transfer of stock.

 Application was then made to the South-sea House, when the
forgery was evident. The minister's Christian-name was mistaken, and no
such persons as the other pretended witnesses could be found.

 This was the sum of the evidence given on his trial at the Old
Bailey; and on which he was consequently convicted and executed.

 The prosecution was instituted by the Board of rectors of the
South-sea Company.



WILLIAM PAGE
A Gentleman of the Road who drove in a Phaeton and Pair, and
after many Adventures was executed for Highway Robbery on 6th
of April, 1758

WILLIAM PAGE was the son of a respectable farmer at
Hampton, and being a lad of promising parts he was sent to
London to be educated, under the care of his cousin, a haberdasher.
His early life, by the superstitious believers of old sayings, would
be adduced as proof positive of the truth of the old adage that "a
man who is born to be hanged will never be drowned"; and,
although we cannot put much faith generally in such notions, we
cannot help in this instance pointing out some peculiarities in the
adventures of our hero which might have been considered by him
as a sufficient indication of his fate.

The early chronicler of his life says that, during the hard
frost in the winter of 1739, Page was sliding with other boys on the
canal in St James's Park, when the ice broke under him and he
sank; and, the ice immediately closing over him, he would have
perished, but just at this juncture the ice again broke with another
boy near him, and Page arose precisely at the vacancy made by the
latter, and was saved, although his companion was drowned. The
second instance of the intervention of his good fortune occurred in
the summer following this singular escape. Page was then trying to
swim with corks in the Thames, when they slipped from under his
arms and he sank; but a waterman got him up, and he soon
recovered. On the third occasion he was going up the river on a
party of pleasure, about five years after-wards, with several other
young fellows, when the boat overset with them in Chelsea Reach,
and every one in the boat was drowned except Page. But his fourth
and last escape from a watery grave was even more miraculous
than any of those which preceded it. About eighteen months after
that which is last related he was on a voyage to Scotland. The ship
in which he sailed foundered in Yarmouth Roads, and most of the
people on board perished; but another vessel, observing their
distress, sent out a long-boat, by the help of which Page and a few
others saved their lives.

To return, however, to the ordinary events of his life. It
appeared that, his cousin having given him employment in his 
shop, his vanity prevented him from bestowing that attention on
his business to which it was entitled; and his extravagance being
checked by his relation, who stopped his pocket-money in order to
curb his refined notions, he had recourse to plunder to supply his
necessities. Money being repeatedly missed from the till, and all
attempts to discover the thief among the servants having failed,
suspicion at length rested on our hero; and, his guilt having been
distinctly proved, he was dismissed from his situation forthwith.
An effort which he made to conciliate his relation after this proved
ineffectual; and his father, who had learned the nature of his
irregularities, having refused to render him any assistance, he at
length journeyed to York, and there joined a company of strolling
players. His exertions in his new capacity were not unsuccessful;
but at length, attempting to play Cato while in a state of
intoxication, his character in the play and his condition of person
were found to agree so badly that he was compelled to be carried
from the stage, and was dismissed from his engagement.

He afterwards went to Scarborough, where his necessities
compelled him to accept a situation as livery-servant with a
gentleman; but, his master having been robbed on his way to town,
he formed a notion that highway robbery was an easy and
profitable mode of living, and determined that so soon as he should
have the means of starting in the profession he would become a
"gentleman of the road." Quitting his master at the end of twelve
months he became acquainted with a woman of abandoned
character, in conjunction with whom he took lodgings near
Charing Cross, and he then commenced as highwayman. His first
expedition was on th Kentish Road, and meeting the Canterbury
stage, near Shooter's Hill, he robbed the passengers of watches and
money to the amount of about thirty pounds; and then, riding
through a great part of Kent to take an observation of the cross-
roads, he returned to London. He now took lodgings near
Grosvenor Square, and, frequenting billiard-tables, won a little
money, which, added to his former stock, prevented his having
recourse to the highway again for a considerable time. But at
length he met with a gambler who was more expert than himself
and stripped him of all his money. He then again sought the road as
a means of subsistence. His exertions were for some time fruitless,
but at length meeting with a handsome booty he was emboldened
by his success, and, taking luxurious lodgings, soon gained the
friendship of some young men of fashion. His next object was to
improve his mind and person; and, having gained some
knowledge, by dint of impudence and through a pleasing exterior
he got introduced into decent society.

By this time he had drawn, from his own observation and
for his private use, a most curious map of the roads twenty miles
round London, and, driving in a phaeton and pair, was not
suspected for a highwayman.

In his excursions for robbery he used to dress in a laced or
embroidered frock, and wear his hair tied behind; but when at a
distance from London he would turn into some unfrequented place
and, having disguised himself in other clothes, with a grizzled or
black wig, and saddled one of his horses, he would ride to the main
road and commit a robbery. This done, he would hasten back to the
carriage, resume his former dress, and drive to town again.

He had once an escape of a very remarkable kind. Having
robbed a gentleman near Putney, some persons came up at the
juncture and pursued him so closely that he was obliged to cross
the Thames for his security. In the interim some haymakers,
crossing the field where Page's carriage was left, found and carried
off his gay apparel; and the persons who had pursued him, meeting
them, charged them with being accomplices in the robbery. A
report of this affair being soon spread, Page heard of it, and,
throwing his clothes into a well, he went back almost naked,
claimed the carriage as his own, and declared that the men had
stripped him and thrown him into a ditch. All the parties now went
before a justice of the Peace; and the maker of the carriage
appearing, and declaring that it was the property of Mr Page, the
poor haymakers were committed for trial; but obtained their liberty
after the next assizes, as Page did not appear to prosecute.

After this he made no further use of the phaeton as a
disguise for his robberies; but it served him occasionally on parties
of pleasure, which he sometimes took with a girl whom he had
then in keeping.
Page was passionately fond of play, and his practice this
way was attended with various turns of fortune, as must be
the case with all gamblers. One night he went to the
masquerade with only ten guineas, and won above five
hundred pounds; and this money was no sooner in his
possession, than a lady, most magnificently dressed, made
some advances to him, on which he put the most favourible
construction.

After some conversation she told him that her mother was a
widow, who would not admit of his visits; but that possibly
he might prevail on her attendant, whose husband was a
reputable tradesman, to give them admission to his house.

Page, who had repeatedly heard the other address her by the
title of 'My lady,' became very importunate with the good
woman to grant this favour. At length all parties agreed;
the servants were called; Page handed the lady and her
attendant into a coach, on which was the coronet of a
viscountess: two footmen with flambeaux got behind the
carriage, and the coachman was ordered to drive home; but,
when the carriage came into Pall Mall, fresh orders were
given to proceed towards Temple Bar.

The fine lady engaged Page's attention to such a degree,
that be paid no regard whither they went. At length the
carriage stopped in an obscure street, at a house which
looked like a shop, and the parties went upstairs, but not
before the lady had whispered one of the footmen (loud
enough for Page to hear her) to acquaint her grace, in the
morning, that she did not return lest she should disturb
her, and therefore slept at Mrs. Price's.

The good woman of the house apologized for the meanness of
her accommodations; but Page said that all apologies were
needless; and the attendant retiring, he paid the most
earnest addresses to the presumed lady, who at length,
after a degree of affectation, that, if he had not been
blinded by his own vanity, he might have readily perceived,
she consented to sleep with him.

As it was late (or rather early) before they came from the
masquerade, and much time had been lost in the courtship,
it was four o'clock in the afternoon before they arose, and
even night before a coach was called for their departure;
though the lady pretended that her mother, the duchess,
would be extremely uneasy on account of her absence.

With great difficulty Page prevailed on the lady to admit
of his attendance on her part of the way home; during which
he promised every thing that a lover could promise; and she
answered him as he could have wished.

The coach stopping in Covent Garden, the lady went into a
chair: and our hero offering to pay the chairman, he said
that he was already paid, a circumstance that convinced
Page of the disinterested disposition of this new
acquaintance.

Repairing now to his lodgings, he reflected with pleasure
on the happy prospects before him; but, feeling for his
pocket-book, he discovered that it was lost, and with it
the greatest part of his treasure.

He now began to suspect that the lady of fashion was an
impostor; and when she failed to meet him on the following
day, agreeably to an appointment that she had made, he saw
that he had been robbed of five hundred pounds, without a
probability of recovering it.

He now advertised a reward to the hackney-coach man who
took them up, and made several other endeavours to find her
out; but they all proved equally fruitless.

Thus stripped of his ill-acquired property, he came to a
resolution to make the women pay for what a woman had
stolen; and, taking the road to Bath, he robbed every
carriage in which was a woman. If men were in the coach, he
said he had no demands on them; but had a draft for five
hundred pounds on the ladies.

Finding that the women were possessed of little cash, he
began to make his demands on the gentlemen, of whom be soon
collected about one hundred and fifty pounds, which he
carried to the masquerade, and lost it all at the gaming-
table; and was no sooner stripped of his money than he
determined to engage in an intrigue.

Leaving the gaming-room, he danced with a lady, and then
attended her to supper, during which he said some tender
things, which he presumed might tend to promote an
immediate assignation; but he soon found that the lady had
no other view than that of marriage, which was far from
being disagreeable to him as he was then situated.

An appointment being agreed on for the following day, he
waited on the lady at her house, and found that she was a
widow of considerable fortune, and well descended. As he
had the art of procuring himself to be well spoken of to
her, she entertained no doubt of his honour. He escorted
her to public places; and the expense of these attendances
was defrayed by his usual resource, the highway.

After one of his expeditions on the road he was followed to
the inn where he put up his horse, and, being taken into
custody, was tried at Maidstone, but acquitted because the
party could not swear to his identity. This circumstance,
however, put an end to his acquaintance with the lady above
mentioned.

The road and the gaming-table were his only means of
support, and he found a fitting companion in his proceedings in the
person of an old schoolfellow named Darwell, in conjunction with
whom, in the course of three years, he committed upwards of three
hundred robberies. At length, however, their iniquitous
proceedings caused an active search to be made for them; and
Darwell, being apprehended, "peached" upon his companion, and
disclosed the places where it was most likely that he would be
found.

The consequence was that Page was apprehended at the
Golden Lion, near Hyde Park, when three loaded pistols were
found on him, with powder, balls, a wig to disguise himself, and
the correct map of the roads round London which we have already
mentioned.

He was sent to Newgate, and an advertisement was inserted
in the papers requesting such persons as had been robbed to attend
his re-examination; but he denied all that was alleged against him,
and as he was always disguised when he committed any robbery
no person present could identify his person.

He was tried at length on suspicion of robbing Mr Webb in
Belfourd Lane, but acquitted for want of evidence; and after this he
was tried at Hertford, but again acquitted for a like reason.

From Hertford he was removed to Maidstone jail, and
being tried at Rochester, for robbing Captain Farrington on
Blackheath, he was capitally convicted, and received sentence of
death. He suffered at Maidstone on the 6th of April, 1758.



JAMES WHITE AND WALTER WHITE
Brothers who were executed at Kennington Common, 19th of
April, 1758, for Robbery with Violence

THESE brothers were natives of Surrey, and had resided in
the neighbourhood of Guildford and Godalming. They were long
accounted lazy, sottish fellows, seldom seen at labour, yet ever
sneaking about, and tippling in public-houses. Their supply of
money to support these low and idle debaucheries had been long
suspected, yet, though many petty larcenies had been committed in
the neighbourhood, no charge had been brought forward against
them.

At length, however, justice, though slow, yet sure, overtook
them. They were apprehended on suspicion of committing a
robbery and burglary in the house of Mr Robert Vincent, a farmer
of Crawley, in the said county, in consequence of information
being given against them by an accomplice, who in fact seduced
them into the robbery -- a depredation of a magnitude which they
had not before attempted.

Being arraigned at the Lent Assizes held at Kingston, in the
year 1758, it appeared in evidence on their trial that the prisoners
beat Mr Vincent inhumanly, and threatened to burn him alive if he
did not discover where his money was hidden. They then robbed
him of four pounds eighteen shillings in silver, one Portugal piece,
value thirty-six shillings, two guineas and a half, and various other
articles. They were found guilty on the clearest evidence. At the
place of execution they acknowledged the justice of their sentence.

While these unhappy men were yet struggling for life, an
infant, of about nine months old, was put into the hands of the
executioner, who nine times passed the hands of each of the dying
men over its face. The child had a wen on its cheek, and the
ignorant, superstitious mother conceived it could be cured by dead
men's hands!

The elder of these unfortunate brothers was twenty-three
and the other had but just turned twenty-one years of age.



MARY EDMONDSON
Strongly protesting her Innocence, she was executed on
Kennington Common, 2nd of April, 1759, for the Murder of her
Aunt

THIS unhappy girl was the daughter of a farmer near
Leeds, in Yorkshire, and was sent to reside with her aunt, Mrs
Walker, of Rotherhithe, who was a widow lady. With this aunt she
lived two years, comporting herself in the most decent manner, and
regularly attending the duties of religion.

A lady, named Toucher, having spent the evening with Mrs
Walker, Mary Edmondson lighted her across the street on her way
home, and soon after her return a woman who cried oysters
through the street observed that the door was open and heard the
girl cry out "Help! Murder! They have killed my aunt!"
Edmondson now ran to the house of Mrs Odell, wringing her hands
and bewailing the misfortune, and, the neighbours being by this
time alarmed, some gentlemen went from a public-house, where
they had spent the evening, determined to inquire into the affair.
They found Mrs Walker, with her throat cut, lying on her right
side, and her head near a table, which was covered with linen. One
of the gentlemen, named Holloway, said: "This is very strange; I
know not what to make of it: let us examine the girl."

Her account of the matter was that four men had entered at
the back door, one of whom put his arms round her aunt's neck,
and another, who was a tall man, dressed in black, swore that he
would kill her if she spoke a single word.

Mr Holloway, observing that the girl's arm was cut, asked
her how it had happened; to which she replied that one of the men,
in attempting to get out, had jammed it with the door. But
Holloway, judging from all appearances that no men had been in
the house, said he did not believe her, but supposed she was the
murderer of her aunt.

On this charge she fell into a fit and, being removed to a
neighbour's house, was bled by a surgeon, and continued there till
the following day, when the coroner's inquest sat on the body, and
brought in a verdict of wilful murder; whereupon she was
committed to prison, on the coroner's warrant.

Mrs Walker's executors, anxious to discover the truth,
caused the house to be diligently searched, and found that a variety
of things, which Mary Edmondson had said were stolen, were not
missing; nor could they discover that anything was lost. Mrs
Walker's watch and some other articles which she said had been
carried off by the murderers were found under the floor of the
necessary-house.

Being committed to the New Jail, Southwark, she remained
there till the next assizes for Surrey, when she was tried at
Kingston, and convicted on evidence which, though acknowledged
to be circumstantial, was such as, in the general opinion, admitted
little doubt of her guilt.

She made a defence indeed; but there was not enough of
probability in it to have any weight.

Being condemned on Saturday, to be executed on the
Monday following, she was lodged in the prison at Kingston,
whence she wrote to her parents, most solemnly avowing her
innocence, She likewise begged that the minister of the parish
would preach a sermon on the occasion of her death. She asserted
her innocence on the Sunday, when she was visited by a clergyman
and several other people; yet was her behaviour devout, and
apparently sincere.

Being taken out of prison on the Monday morning, she got
into a post-chaise with the keeper, and, arriving at the Peacock, in
Kennington Lane, about nine o'clock, there drank a glass of wine;
and then, being put into a cart, was conveyed to the place of
execution, where she behaved devoutly, and made the following
address to the surrounding multitude:--

"It is now too late to trifle either with God or man. I
solemnly declare that I am innocent of the crime laid to my charge.
I am very easy in my mind, as I suffer with as much pleasure as if I
was going to sleep. I freely forgive my prosecutors, and earnestly
beg your prayers for my departing soul."

After execution her body was conveyed to St Thomas's
Hospital, Southwark, and there dissected, agreeably to the laws
respecting murderers.


DOCTOR FLORENCE HENSEY
Convicted of High Treason, and sentenced to Death on the 12th of June,
1758; respited, and then reprieved, by. King George the Second; but who
received a free Pardon from King George the Third.
{Illustration: Dr. Florence Hensey}

 IN the Court of King's Bench, during the reign of King Charles
the First, a gentleman, named Arthur Chuhoggen, was attainted of high
treason, viz. for saying in Spain, "I would kill the king of England if
I could come at him;" which was testified by the oaths of two
gentlemen, beside others that justified it, from the several relations
of other men. For further probability of his malicious intent, the
officers that apprehended him at his lodgings in Drury-lane, London,
deposed upon oath, that when they told, him he was the king's prisoner,
he bit his thumb, saying, "I care not this much for your king."

 The attorney-general observed, that in Spain, the biting of the
thumb is a token of scorn and disdain, in the highest degree; and will
bear an action of disgrace in Spain, as spitting in one's face will in
England. After Mr. Chuhoggen was condemned, the judges sent the sheriff
to him, to know of him, whether he could alledge any other colourable
intent of his coming over; but he gave no satisfaction on that point.
He was hanged, drawn, and quartered, on the 27th of November, 1617, and
he then wished that he might never enter the kingdom Heaven; if ever he
had uttered the words for which he was condemned

 The above is an extract from a curious manuscript letter from Mr.
Justinian Pagitt, then a. lawyer of' Lincoln's Inn, to Dr. Twysden,,
chancellor of the. diocese of Lichfield and Coventry. It will present
the reader with a specimen of king-craft, in the reign of the Monarch 
who lost his head!

 Such was the definition of treason formerly; and punishment
inflicted on a man who would now have been looked upon as a madman, for
no one in his senses, for any earthly purpose, could utter such
incoherencies.

 In comparing the cases of Chuhoggen and Hensey, we are much
surprised at the extension of royal mercy to the one; as. at the
barbarous punishment of the other.

 Martin Nowland, as we have already shewn, was executed for
attempting to inlist Englishmen for the service of France; and Thomas
Hemmings suffered death for doing the same for the king of Prussia; yet
Hensey, whose crime was ten-fold greater, was pardoned.

 De la Motte, the particulars of whose case we shall hereafter
give, was "hanged, drawn, and quartered," for the same kind of offence
which Hensey committed; and in still more recent times, numbers have
suffered death for similar treason; and yet we have to observe, without
finding any especial reason for it, that Doctor Hensey was pardoned. If
granted from political motives, it must have been in fear of Spain; an
unworthy impulse of the ministers of a far greater and more powerful
nation.

 Dr. Hensey was a native of the county of Kildare in Ireland,
brought up a Roman Catholic, and taught the rudiments of grammar by a
priest of that persuasion. Being sent to St. Omer's to study
philosophy, he continued there till the degree of master of arts was
conferred on him, and then proceeded to Leyden, where he studied
physic. From Leyden he went through Germany and Switzerland into Italy,
acquiring the knowledge of the respective languages during his travels.

 Embarking at Genoa, he sailed to Lisbon, and, crossing the
kingdom of Portugal, went to Spain, and thence to France, endeavouring
in his tour to make himself master of the Portuguese and Spanish
languages. Having reached Paris, he practised physic in that city five
years; but being unsuccessful, he repaired to London.

 His success in England was not superior to that in France. His
patients were few, and those of the lower rank of people. From his
quitting the university of Leyden, he had corresponded with a brother
collegian, who, having settled in France, procured a place in the
office of the secretary of state at Paris.

 When Dr. Hensey heard of his friend's promotion, he wrote him a
letter of congratulation, in which he made a civil offer of executing
any of his commands in London.

 This happening at the commencement of a war between Great Britain
and France, Hensey's friend informed him, that he might be very
serviceable by transmitting early intelligence of our warlike
preparations. This hint being approved by the Doctor, the next post
brought him instructions how to act, with an appointment of near
twenty-five pounds per month.

 The substance of these instructions were "to send complete lists
of all our men of war, both in and out of commission; their condition,
situation, and number of men on board each; when they sailed, under
what commanders, from what ports, and their destination; an account of
the actual number of our troops, what regiments were complete, and
where quartered or garrisoned."

 Dr. Hensey sent such accounts as he could procure to a gentleman
at Cologne, who sent them to another at Berne in Switzerland, whence
they were transmitted to Paris. Hensey's salary, ample as it was,
proved unequal to the expectations he had formed; but he proceeded, in
the hopes of an increase of it.

 His first attempt to acquire intelligence was by getting into
company with the clerks of the public offices, but not succeeding in
this, he frequented the coffee-houses used by the members of
parliament: and his physical appearance taking off all suspicion of his
being a spy, he frequently learned such particulars as he thought worth
sending to his employers.

 [Note: Though this may seem an extraordinary method of procuring
secret intelligence, it is no more than what is practised daily by the
writers of the newspapers.]

 He never entered into political discussion if he could avoid it,
and when he did, always spoke on the government side of the question,
professing enmity to the French; so that, though a Catholic, he was
long unsuspected.

 His letters from Paris were sent by the way of Switzerland,
whence they were transmitted to the post-office in London, and directed
to him at a coffee-house in the Strand, by a fictitious name. A
suspicion arose that these letters and their answers, which appeared to
contain only a few lines of compliment, (as might be seen through the
covers,) were in fact a disguise for something of greater importance;
and this suspicion increasing by their frequency, the secretary of the
post-office at length opened some of those from Hensey, in one of
which, dated from Twickenham, he read, between the lines written with
ink, another epistle written with lemon-juice, advising the French to
land on the English coast.

 The letters were read by being held to the fire, and the utmost
diligence was used to discover the writer, and learn his real name; for
which purpose a person was placed at the coffee-house to which they
were directed, who followed him to his lodgings in Arundel-street,
after he had received one of them.

 On the following Sunday, Hensey, on his return from the Spanish
ambassador's chapel in Soho-square, was seized by two of the King's
messengers, and after repeated examination before the secretary of
state, was committed to Newgate for high-treason. The grand jury of
Middlesex found a true bill against him in Easter term, 1758; but the
trial was removed, by writ of certiorari, into the Court of King's-
bench; here he pleaded not guilty.

 A copy of his indictment was granted, and counsel directed by the
court to plead for him. On his trial, which took place before Lord
Mansfield, in Westminster-Hall, the gentlemen of the post-office swore
to the finding a number of letters in his bureau, and his handwriting
was proved by some apothecaries who had made up his prescriptions.

 The doctor's counsel pleaded a defect in the indictment, because
the letters were intercepted at the Post- office, which was in London;
whereas the offence, if any, was committed in Middlesex; the grand jury
of which county could have no right to find a bill for an offence
committed in London.

 The counsel for the crown replied, that though the letters had
been intercepted at the Post-office, the offence on which the
indictment was founded had been committed at Twickenham, as appeared by
the date of the letter. They further urged, that the solicitor of the
treasury might have laid the indictment in the city of London; but he
preferred fixing it in the county, because the letter from Twickenham
was of the most dangerous tendency; and the other letters were to be
considered only as collateral evidence against the prisoner.

 Dr. Hensey's counsel now objected, that the writing a treasonable
letter was not an overt act of high-treason; except this letter was
published: in answer to which it was insisted, that the delivery of it
at the Post-office was an actual publication of it. The doctor's
counsel farther said, that he had not corresponded with the enemies of
the King; for we were not at war with the Dutch, and the letters were
directed to people in Holland.

 The evidences having proved, that the letter dated at Twickenham
contained an invitation to the French to invade this kingdom, that was
considered as an overt act of high-treason; on which the plea of the
prisoner was overruled, and the evidence was summed up by Lord
Mansfield.

 Dr. Hensey had hitherto supported himself with courage; but,
during the absence, of the jury, which was about three quarters of an
hour, he trembled excessively, and gave every proof of the greatest
agitation of mind. On their return, he had scarcely strength to hold up
his hand at the bar. A verdict of guilty being pronounced, he was
brought up to receive sentence on the Wednesday following, after which
he begged a fortnight to make proper preparation for his death; but the
court generously granted him a month.

 A respite was sent for him early on the morning on which he was
to have been executed, and afterwards, a reprieve during the King's
pleasure. After this he continued above three years in Newgate, and
then embarked for France, on obtaining a free pardon..

 At the time Hensey was apprehended, his brother was secretary and
chaplain to the Spanish ambassador at the Hague. To this brother he
wrote an account of his misfortunes, in consequence of which the
Spanish ambassador at London was applied to by the gentleman in similar
office at the Hague; and such representations were made to the English
ministry, that the reprieve above-mentioned followed; though King
George the Second could not be prevailed on to grant him a free pardon:
but soon after the accession of George the Third, this pardon was
granted, and the prisoner discharged, on giving the usual security for
his good behaviour.


JOSEPH HALSEY
Ship's mate, hanged for beating two of his men to death


JOSEPH HALSEY was born of respectable parents in New
England, North America, who gave him an education fit for a
navigator. He was, when he committed the murder in question,
mate of the ship Amazon, commanded by Captain Gallop. This
vessel sailed from Jamaica for London the latter end of June or the
beginning of July, having on hoard Captain Gallop; Halsey, the
mate; four men, John Father, Daniel Davidson, John Edwards, and
Robert Green; and two boys, Thomas Symmes and William
Mitchell.

Mitchell was about sixteen years of age, and Symmes seems to
have been older. About a week after the Amazon left Jamaica the
captain was taken ill, and confined to his cabin: the command,
therefore, devolved upon Halsey. About the same time, also, the
vessel sprung a leak, so that her hands wore obliged to pump to
keep her clear. Halsey, as soon as he took the command of the
ship, began to treat the men with great brutality, abusing and
beating them without cause or mercy. Complaint was frequently
made to the captain, and he was repeatedly alarmed in his cabin by
the cry of murder: but he was not able to afford the sufferers
redress; only he said to Halsey, 'Halsey, we have but few men, and,
if you murder them, who will take care of the ship?' The captain's
remonstrance, however, produced no effect, and soon after it
became necessary to pump. Edwards and Davidson were taken ill:
this afforded Halsey's cruelty a new subject of gratification; be
compelled the sick to work as long as those that were well; and,
perceiving that they were feeble, and not able to clear the same
quantity of water in the same time, he compelled them to continue
pumping double the time that was allotted to the rest: the men,
indeed, compassionated the poor sufferers, and voluntarily offered
to pump for them, or assist them while they were pumping; but this
Halsey would not suffer.

The captain, in the mean time, hearing the poor fellows were sick,
sent them out some fresh provision from his table, which Halsey
would not suffer them to partake of: neither did his diabolical
barbarity stop here; for he not only beat them without mercy,
sometimes with a board, sometimes with a mopstick, and
sometimes with a rope, but, when their watch was over, he
prohibited them the refreshment of shelter and sleep, and insisted
upon poor Davidson's standing upon deck all night in the rain, at a
time when be could scarcely support himself on his legs, and had a
right to have been in his hammock.

As the Amazon was in a fleet, and under convoy, it was often
proposed to Halsey to send the two poor sick wretches on board a
man of war, that the surgeon might take them under his care, and
that two effective men might be sent on board in their stead; but
this Halsey refused, though he knew, if he made the request, it
would have been granted. When he was further urged, he said he
had no clothes fit to go on board the man of war in; upon which
both Captain Gallop and Captain Ball, captain of another vessel in
the fleet, who happened to be on board the Amazon, offered to lend
him some clothes; but he absolutely refused to accept them, for
which it is impossible to assign any other reason than that be
would not give up the pleasure ho took in tormenting the men, for
it was manifestly his interest to have rather effectual men than sick
on board, especially considering the condition of his vessel.

After that be persisted in treating the sick men in the same manner,
with this additional aggravation, that, though he allowed every
other person in the ship three quarts of water a day, he allowed
them only one quart, though their sickness increased the intolerable
thirst, which, in that climate, requires more than the largest of these
allowances to quench.

Halsey, that he might indulge himself in contemplating the misery
he produced, always caused the two sick men to be upon deck
whenever he was upon deck himself, whether it was or was not
their watch, and used frequently to make Davidson stand with a
mop held out in his hands, as a soldier holds out his musket, for
many successive hours, without intermission or refreshment

To this astonishing barbarity poor Edwards first fell a martyr; ho
died, and was thrown overboard.

About the same time Davidson, considering his fellow-sufferer as
having escaped the misery to which he was still condemned,
resolved to follow him, and, accordingly, silently let himself down
by a rope from the stern into the sea, in hopes that he should be
drowned, and lose both his misery and his life together; but it
happened that Halsey saw him as he rose to the surface of the
water; and such was the inveteracy of his malice, that he seized a
rope and leaped overboard to bring him back, declaring that he
should 'not escape him so,' and that be would have the pleasure of
tormenting him a little longer. When the poor wretch was brought
on board he was, to appearance, dead: the good captain, however,
ordered him to be rolled, that the water might be discharged; and,
when he came to himself, directed that he should be dry clothed.
When he was stripped, in order to fulfil these humane directions,
his body appeared to be bruised almost from head to foot.

Halsey, however, did not relent; he continued tormenting him by
blows, insults, labour, and thirst: when he was so weak that he
could not stand Halsey forcibly drew him up by his hands, and,
tying him to the shrouds, first beat him, and then left him in that
condition for more than an hour: when he was untied he fell down.
The man that came up the next watch found him dying under the
boat on the hare deck; about four hours after he was seen lying on
a sail; and in the morning he was found dead.

The captain dying at sea, and Halsey being obliged to ask the
assistance of a man of war, which before he had refused, obtained
two men in the room of Edwards and Davidson, and brought the
ship home.

He continued to heat the rest of the crew during the remainder of
the voyage, notwithstanding the murders he had already
committed; but when he came into port, a complaint being made,
he was taken into custody; and the facts here reduced to a narrative
having been proved, he was condemned, and suffered at Execution
Dock, March the 14th, 1759, without any circumstance of pain or
infamy that would not have been then inflicted on a petty thief who
had pilfered a silk handkerchief from a passenger in the street.





JOHN STEVENSON
Convicted of the Manslaughter of Francis Elcock, an Attorney-at-
Law, who had issued a Writ against him

JOHN STEVENSON was a cheese-factor at Bickerton,
and, becoming insolvent, fortified himself in his house, and
admitted nobody within the doors for fear of an arrest.

A writ was issued out against him by Elcock, at the suit of
one Atkins, for eighteen pounds, eight shillings and tenpence; a
warrant was made out upon the writ by one Baxter, who, by verbal
appointment, acted for the under-sheriff. This warrant was
delivered sealed to Elcock, or his agent, directed to one John
Evans, a bailiff, and a blank left in it for the names of any other
person by whom the attorney should think fit to have it executed,
such being the custom of the place. After the warrant had been thus
sealed and delivered, Elcock inserted the names of John James and
John Jones, who were deemed bailiffs-extraordinary for this
particular arrest; and as they had not given bond to the sheriff,
Elcock undertook, by an endorsement on the warrant, to indemnify
the sheriff from any injury he might suffer by the act of John
James and John Jones, whose names he had inserted in the warrant,
and to whom he had committed the execution of it.

John James found means to get into Stevenson's house by
stratagem, and arrested him upon this warrant, but Stevenson
rescued himself by snapping a pistol three times at James, which
happily missed fire, and James escaped from the house and left his
prisoner behind him.

When Elcock learned that Stevenson had been arrested, and
rescued himself, he immediately sent for arms and a crow to break
open the door, and retake Stevenson by force.

Several persons soon after assembled armed, and with
James and Jones, the bailiffs, beset the house. James had put an
iron crow under one door of the house and made an attempt to
force it off the hinges; but, failing, he left Elcock at that door with
the crow lying under it, directing him to watch that Stevenson did
not escape, and went himself to another door. When James was
gone, Elcock took up the crow, and, while he was making another
effort with it to force the door, Stevenson discharged a grun
through the door at him, which gave him a mortal wound, of which
he died in about ten hours.

The facts were all incontestably proved, and that Stevenson
knew the persons who were about to force his door were assistants
to the bailiffs from whom he had rescued himself; but it was
insisted by the counsel for the prisoner -- First, that the warrant
was not good, because it was issued by a person who had no legal
delegation of authority from the sheriff to grant it, verbal
appointment being insufficient. To this it was replied, on behalf of
the Crown, that it had been the custom immemorial for clerks to
attend at the office of sheriffs and make out warrants upon writs
directed to them, particularly at the two counters in London, and at
the Middlesex office in Furnival's Inn. Secondly, it was insisted for
the prisoner that the insertion of the names of the bailiffs by whom
the warrant was to be executed, after the warrant was scaled, made
it an illegal warrant; and Lord Hale was quoted, who says: "If a
sheriff's bailiff come to execute a process, but has not a legal
authority, as if the name of the bailiff, etc., be interlined or inserted
after the sealing thereof, if such bailiff be killed it is but
manslaughter." To this it was replied that this opinion of Lord Hale
being omitted by Serjeant Hawkins, it might be presumed that he
doubted it; that if a person gave a bond sealed and executed to
another, with a blank for the sum, and directed him to insert two
hundred pounds in it, and he to whom the bond was given filled it
up, the bond was good, which was supposed to contradict Lord
Hale's opinion concerning a warrant.

After further points had been argued it was resolved by the
Court to direct the jury to bring in a special verdict, which was
accordingly done.

On the 6th of May, 1759, the case of Stevenson was argued
before the Hon. Mr Justice Noel, Chief Justice of Chester, and
Thomas White, Esq., the other justice, who gave their opinion that
the prisoner's crime, found by the special verdict, could amount at
most to manslaughter only. Whereupon he was burned in the hand,
and discharged from the capital part of the indictment.



EUGENE ARAM
A Self-Educated Man, with remarkable Linguistic Attainments,
who was executed at York on 6th of August, 1759, for a Murder
discovered Fourteen Years after its Commission.

EUGENE ARAM was born in a village called Netherdale,
in Yorkshire, in the year 1704, of an ancient family, one of his
ancestors having served the office of High Sheriff for that county
in the reign of Edward III. The vicissitudes of fortune had,
however, reduced them, as we find the father of Eugene a poor but
honest man, by profession a gardener, in which humble walk in life
he was, nevertheless, greatly respected.

The sweat of his brow alone, we must conclude, was
insufficient both to rear and educate his offspring. From the high
erudition of the unfortunate subject under consideration, he may be
truly called a prodigy. He was self-taught. In the infancy of Aram
his parents removed to another village, called Shelton, near
Newby, in the said county; and when about six years of age, his
father, who had laid by a small sum from his weekly labour, made
a purchase of a little cottage in Bondgate, near Ripon.

When he was about thirteen or fourteen years of age he
went to his father in Newby, and attended him in the family there
till the death of Sir Edward Blackett. It was in the house of this
gentleman, to whom his father was gardener, that his propensity
for literature first appeared. He was indeed always of a solitary
disposition, and uncommonly fond of retirement and books; and
here he enjoyed all the advantages of leisure and privacy. He
applied himself at first chiefly to mathematical studies, in which he
attained considerable proficiency.

At about sixteen years of age he was sent to London, to the
house of Mr Christopher Blackett, whom he served for some time
in the capacity of book-keeper. After continuing here a year or
more he was taken with the smallpox, and suffered severely under
that distemper. He afterwards returned into Yorkshire, in
consequence of an invitation from his father, and there continued
to prosecute his studies, but found in polite literature much greater
charms than in mathematics; which occasioned him now to apply
himself chiefly to poetry, history and antiquities. After this he was
invited to Netherdale, where he was employed in a school. He then
married. But this marriage proved an unhappy connection; for to
the misconduct of his wife he afterwards attributed the misfortunes
that befell him. In the meanwhile, having perceived his deficiency
in the learned languages, he applied himself to the grammatical
study of the Latin and Greek tongues; after which he read, with
great avidity and diligence, all the Latin classics, historians and
poets. He then went through the Greek Testament; and lastly,
ventured upon Hesiod, Homer, Theocritus, Herodotus and
Thucydides, together with all the Greek tragedians. In 1734
William Norton, Esq., a gentleman who had a friendship for him,
invited him to Knaresborough. Here he acquired a knowledge of
Hebrew, and read the Pentateuch in that language. In 1744 he
returned to London, and served the Rev. Mr Plainblanc as usher in
Latin and writing, in Piccadilly; and, with this gentleman's
assistance, acquired a knowledge of the French language. He was
afterwards employed as an usher and tutor in several different parts
of England, during which time he became acquainted with heraldry
and botany. He also ventured upon Chaldee and Arabic, the former
of which he found easy, from its near connection with the Hebrew.

He then investigated the Celtic, as far as possible, in all its
dialects; and having begun to form collections, and make
comparisons between the Celtic, the English, the Latin, the Greek
and the Hebrew, and found a great affinity between them, he
resolved to proceed through all these languages, and to form a
comparative lexicon. But, amid these learned labours and inquiries,
it appears that Aram committed a crime which could not naturally
have been expected from a man of so studious a turn, as the
inducement that led him to it was merely gain of wealth, of which
the scholar is seldom covetous. On the 8th of February, 1745, he,
in conjunction with a man named Richard Houseman, murdered
one Daniel Clarke, a shoemaker at Knaresborough.

This unfortunate man, having married a woman of good
family, ostentatiously circulated a report that his wife was entitled
to a considerable fortune, which he should soon receive.
Thereupon Aram and Richard Houseman, conceiving hopes of
making advantage of this circumstance, persuaded Clarke to make
an ostentatious show of his own riches, to induce his wife's
relations to give him that fortune of which he had boasted. There
was sagacity, if not honesty, in this advice, for the world in general
are more free to assist persons in affluence than those in distress.

Clarke was easily induced to comply with a hint so
agreeable to his own desires; on which he borrowed, and bought on
credit, a large quantity of silver plate, with jewels, watches, rings,
etc. He told the persons of whom he purchased that a merchant in
London had sent him an order to buy such plate for exportation;
and no doubt was entertained of his credit till his sudden
disappearance in February, 1745, when it was imagined that he had
gone abroad, or at least to London, to dispose of his ill-acquired
property.

When Clarke got possession of these goods, Aram and
Houseman determined to murder him, in order to share the booty;
and on the night of the 8th of February, 1745, they persuaded
Clarke to walk with them in the fields, in order to consult with
them on the proper method to dispose of the effects.

On this plan they walked into a field, at a small distance
from the town, well known by the name of St Robert's Cave. When
they came into this field, Aram and Clarke went over a hedge
towards the cave, and, when they had got within six or seven yards
of it, Houseman (by the light of the moon) saw Aram strike Clarke
several times, and at length beheld him fall, but never saw him
afterwards. This was the state of the affair, if Houseman's
testimony on the trial might be credited.

The murderers, going home, shared Clarke's ill-gotten
treasure, the half of which Houseman concealed in his garden for a
twelvemonth, and then took it to Scotland, where he sold it. In the
meantime Aram carried his share to London, where he sold it to a
Jew, and then engaged himself as an usher at an academy in
Piccadilly, where, in the intervals of his duty in attending on the
scholars, he made himself master of the French language, and
acquired some knowledge of the Arabic and other Eastern
languages.

After this he was usher at other schools in different parts of
the kingdom, but as he did not correspond with his friends in
Yorkshire it was presumed that he was dead.

Thus had nearly fourteen years passed on without the
smallest clue being found to account for the sudden exit of Clarke.

In the year 1758 a labourer was employed to dig for stone
to supply a lime-kiln, at a place called Thistle Hill, near
Knaresborough, and, having dug about two feet deep, he found the
bones of a human body, and the bones being still joined to each
other by the ligatures of the joints, the body appeared to have been
buried double. This accident immediately became the subject of
general curiosity and inquiry. Some hints had been formerly
thrown out by Aram's wife that Clarke was murdered, and it was
well remembered that his disappearance was very sudden.

This occasioned Aram's wife to be sent for, as was also the
coroner, and an inquisition was entered into, it being believed that
the skeleton found was that of Daniel Clarke. Mrs Aram declared
that she believed Clarke had been murdered by her husband and
Richard Houseman. The latter, when he was brought before the
coroner, appeared to be in great confusion, trembling, changing
colour and faltering in his speech during the examination. The
coroner desired him to take up one of the bones, probably to
observe what further effect that might produce; and Houseman,
accordingly taking up one of the bones, said "This is no more Dan
Clarke's bone than it is mine."

These words were pronounced in such a manner as
convinced those present that they proceeded not from Houseman's
supposition that Clarke was alive but from his certain knowledge
where his bones really lay, Accordingly, after some evasions, he
said that Clarke was murdered by Eugene Aram, and that the body
was buried in St Robert's Cave, near Knaresborough. He added
further, that Clarke's head lay to the right, in the turn at the
entrance of the cave; and a skeleton was accordingly found there
exactly in the posture he described. In consequence of this
confession search was made for Aram, and at length he was
discovered in the situation of usher to an academy at Lynn, in
Norfolk. He was brought from thence to York Castle; and on the
13th of August, 1759, was brought to trial at the county assizes. He
was found guilty on the testimony of Richard Houseman, who
being arraigned, and acquitted, became an evidence against Aram;
and whose testimony was corroborated by Mrs Aram, and strong
circumstantial evidence. The plunder which Aram was supposed to
have derived from the murder was estimated at not more than one
hundred and sixty pounds.

Aram's defence was both ingenious and able, and would
not have disgraced any of the best lawyers of the day. He thus
addressed the Court:

"My Lord, I know not whether it is of right or through
some indulgence of your Lordship that I am allowed the liberty at
this bar, and at this time, to attempt a defence, incapable and
uninstructed as I am to speak; since, while I see so many eyes upon
me, so numerous and awful a concourse fixed with attention and
filled with I know not what expectancy, I labour not with guilt, my
Lord, but with perplexity; for, having never seen a court but this,
being wholly unacquainted with law, the customs of the Bar, and
all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be so little capable of
speaking with propriety in this place that it exceeds my hope if I
shall be able to speak at all.

"I have heard, my Lord, the indictment read, wherein I find
myself charged with the highest crime, with an enormity I am
altogether incapable of -- a fact, to the commission of which there
goes far more insensibility of heart, more profligacy of morals,
than ever fell to my lot; and nothing possibly could have admitted
a presumption of this nature but a depravity not inferior to that
imputed to me. However, as I stand indicted at your Lordship's bar, 
and have heard what is called evidence adduced in support of such
a charge, I very humbly solicit your Lordship's patience, and beg
the hearing of this respectable audience, while I, single and
unskilful, destitute of friends and unassisted by counsel, say
something, perhaps like argument, in my defence. I shall consume
but little of your Lordship's time. What I have to say will be short;
and this brevity, probably, will be the best part of it. However it is
offered with all possible regard and the greatest submission to your
Lordship's consideration and that of this honourable Court.

"First, my Lord, the whole tenor of my conduct in life
contradicts every particular of the indictment: yet had I never said
this, did not my present circumstances extort it from me, and seem
to make it necessary? Permit me here, my Lord, to call upon
malignity itself, so long and cruelly busied in this prosecution, to
charge upon me any immorality of which prejudice was not the
author. No, my Lord, I concerted no schemes of fraud, projected
no violence, injured no man's person or property. My days were
honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious; and I humbly
conceive my notice of this, especially at this time, will not be
thought impertinent or unseasonable, but at least deserving of some
attention; because, my Lord, that any person, after a temperate use
of life, a series of thinking and acting regularly,and without one
single deviation from sobriety, should plunge into the very depth
of profligacy precipitately and at once, is altogether improbable
and unprecedented, absolutely inconsistent with the course of
things. Mankind is never corrupted at once. Villainy is always
progressive, and declines from right step by step, till every regard
of probity is lost, and every sense of all moral obligation totally
perishes.

"'Again, my Lord, a suspicion of this kind, which nothing
but malevolence could entertain and ignorance propagate, is
violently opposed by my very situation at that time with respect to
health; for, but a little space before, I had been confined to my bed,
and suffered under a very long and severe disorder, and was not
able, for half-a-year together, so much as to walk. The distemper
left me indeed, yet slowly, and in part, but so macerated, so
enfeebled, that I was reduced to crutches; and so far from being
well about the time I am charged with this fact, I have never to this
day perfectly recovered. Could then a person in this condition take
anything into his head so unlikely, so extravagant? -- I, past the
vigour of my age, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement to
engage, no ability to accomplish, no weapon wherewith to
perpetrate such a deed, without interest, without power, without
motive, without means. Besides, it must needs occur to everyone
that an action of this atrocious nature is never heard of but when its
springs are laid open. It appears that it was to support some
indolence or supply some luxury; to satisfy some avarice or oblige
some malice; to prevent some real or some imaginary want: yet I
lay not under the influence of these. Surely, my Lord, I may,
consistently with both truth and modesty, affirm thus much; and
none who have any veracity and knew me will ever question this.

"In the second place, the disappearance of Clarke is
suggested as an argument of his being dead; but the uncertainty of
such an inference from that, and the fallibility of all conclusions of
such a sort from such a circumstance, are too obvious and too
notorious to require instances; yet superseding many, permit me to
produce a very recent one, and that afforded by this Castle.

"In June, 1757, William Thompson, for all the vigilance of
this place, in open daylight and double-ironed, made his escape,
and, notwithstanding an immediate inquiry set on foot, the strictest
search, and all advertisement, was never heard of since. If, then,
Thompson got off unseen, through all these difficulties, how very
easy it was for Clarke, when none of them opposed him! But what
would be thought of a prosecution commenced against anyone
seen last with Thompson?

"Permit me next, my Lord, to observe a little upon the
bones which have been discovered. It is said (which perhaps is
saying very far) that these are the skeleton of a man. It is possible,
indeed, it may be; but is there any certain known criterion which
incontestably distinguishes the sex in human bones? Let it be
considered, my Lord, whether the ascertaining of this point ought
not to precede any attempt to identify them.

"The place of their depositum, too, claims much more
attention than is commonly bestowed upon it; for, of all places in
the world, none could have mentioned any one wherein there was
greater certainty of finding human bones than a hermitage, except
he should point out a churchyard; hermitages, in time past, being
not only places of religious retirement, but of burial too: and it has
scarce or never been heard of, but that every cell now known
contains or contained these relics of humanity, some mutilated and
some entire. I do not inform, but give me leave to remind your
Lordship that here sat solitary Sanctity, and here the hermit or the
anchoress hoped that repose for their bones when dead they here
enjoyed when living.

"All the while, my Lord, I am sensible this is known to
your Lordship, and many in this court, better than to me; but it
seems necessary to my case that others, who have not at all
perhaps adverted to things of this nature, and may have concern in
my trial, should be made acquainted with it. Suffer me then, my
Lord, to produce a few of many evidences that these cells were
used as repositories of the dead, and to enumerate a few in which
human bones have been found, as it happened in this question; lest
to some that accident might seem extraordinary, and consequently
occasion prejudice.

"1. The bones, as was supposed, of the Saxon saint,
Dubritius, were discovered buried in his cell at Guy's Cliff, near
Warwick; as appears from the authority of Sir William Dugdale.

"2. The bones thought to be those of the anchoress Rosia
were but lately discovered in a cell at Royston, entire, fair and
undecayed, though they must have lain interred for several
centuries; as is proved by Dr Stukely.

"3. But my own country -- nay, almost this neighbourhood
-- supplies another instance; for in January, 1747, were found, by
Mr Stovin, accompanied by a reverend gentleman, the bones, in
part, of some recluse, in the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield. They
were believed to be those of William of Lindholm, a hermit, who
had long made this cave his habitation.

"4. In February, 1744, part of Woburn Abbey being pulled
down, a large portion of a corpse appeared, even with the flesh on,
and which bore cutting with a knife; though it is certain this had
lain above two hundred years, and how much longer is doubtful,
for this abbey was founded in 1145, and dissolved in 1538 or 1539.

"What would have been said, what believed, if this had
been an accident to the bones in question?

"Further, my Lord, it is not yet out of living memory that at
a little distance from Knaresborough, in a field, part of the manor
of the worthy and patriot baronet who does that borough the
honour to represent it in Parliament, were found, in digging for
gravel, not one human skeleton only, but five or six, deposited side
by side, with each an urn placed at its head, as your Lordship
knows was usual in ancient interments.

"About the same time, and in another field, almost close to
this borough, was discovered also, in searching for gravel, another
human skeleton; but the piety of the same worthy gentleman
ordered both pits to be filled up again, commendably unwilling to
disturb the dead.

"Is the invention of these bones forgotten, then, or
industriously concealed, that the discovery of those in question
may appear the more singular and extraordinary, whereas, in fact,
there is nothing extraordinary in it. My Lord, almost every place
conceals such remains. In fields, in hills, in highway sides, in
commons, lie frequent and unsuspected bones; and our present
allotments for rest for the departed are but of some centuries.

"Another particular seems not to claim a little of your
Lordship's notice, and that of the gentlemen of the jury; which is,
that perhaps no example occurs of more than one skeleton being
found in one cell: and in the cell in question was found but one;
agreeable, in this, to the peculiarity of every other known cell in
Britain. Not the invention of one skeleton, but of two, would have
appeared suspicious and uncommon. But it seems another skeleton
has been discovered by some labourer, which was full as
confidently averred to be Clarke's as this. My Lord, must some of
the living, if it promotes some interest, be made answerable for all
the bones that earth has concealed and chance exposed? And might
not a place where bones lay be mentioned by a person by chance as
well as found by a labourer by chance? Or is it more criminal
accidentally to name where bones lie than accidentally to find
where they lie?

"Here, too, is a human skull produced, which is fractured;
but was this the cause, or was it the consequence, of death? was it
owing to violence, or was it the effect of natural decay? If it was
violence, was that violence before or after death? My Lord, in
May, 1732, the remains of William, Lord Archbishop of this
province, were taken up, by permission, in this cathedral, and the
bones of the skull were found broken; yet certainly he died by no
violence offered to him alive that could occasion that fracture
there.

"Let it be considered, my Lord, that, upon the dissolution of
religious houses and the commencement of the Reformation, the
ravages of those times affected both the living and the dead. In
search after imaginary treasures, coffins were broken up, graves
and vaults dug open, monuments ransacked and shrines
demolished; and it ceased about the beginning of the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. I entreat your Lordship, suffer not the violence,
the depredations and the iniquities of those times to be imputed to
this.

"Moreover, what gentleman here is ignorant that
Knaresborough had a castle, which, though now a ruin, was once
considerable both for its strength and garrison. All know it was
vigorously besieged by the arms of the Parliament; at which siege,
in sallies, conflicts, flights, pursuits, many fell in all the places
round it, and, where they fell, were buried, for every place, my
Lord, is burial-earth in war; and many, questionless, of these rest
yet unknown, whose bones futurity shall discover.

"I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what has been
said will not be thought impertinent to this indictment, and that it
will be far from the wisdom, the learning and the integrity of this
place to impute to the living what zeal in its fury may have done --
what nature may have taken off, and piety interred -- or what war
alone may have destroyed, alone deposited.

"As to the circumstances that have been raked together, I
have nothing to observe but that all circumstances whatever are
precarious, and have been but too frequently found lamentably
fallible; even the strongest have failed. They may rise to the utmost
degree of probability, yet they are but probability still. Why need I
name to your Lordship the two Harrisons recorded by Dr Howel,
who both suffered upon circumstances because of the sudden
disappearance of their lodger, who was in credit, had contracted
debts, borrowed money, and went off unseen, and returned a great
many years after their execution? Why name the intricate affair of
Jacques de Moulin, under King Charles II., related by a gentleman
who was counsel for the Crown? And why the unhappy Coleman,
who suffered innocently, though convicted upon positive evidence,
and whose children perished for want, because the world
uncharitably believed the father guilty? Why mention the perjury
of Smith, incautiously admitted King's evidence, who, to screen
himself, equally accused Faircloth and Loveday of the murder of
Dun; the first of whom, in 1749, was executed at Winchester; and
Loveday was about to suffer at Reading, had not Smith been
proved perjured, to the satisfaction of the Court, by the Governor
of Gosport Hospital?

"Now, my Lord, having endeavoured to show that the
whole of this process is altogether repugnant to every part of my
life; that it is inconsistent with my condition of health about that
time; that no rational inference can be drawn that a person is dead
who suddenly disappears; that hermitages are the constant
depositories of the bones of a recluse; that the proofs of this are
well authenticated; that the revolutions in religion or the fortunes
of war have mangled or buried the dead -- the conclusion remains,
perhaps, no less reasonable than impatiently wished for. I, at last,
after a year's confinement, equal to either fortune, put myself upon
the justice, the candour and the humanity of your Lordship; and
upon yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of the jury."

The delivery of this address created a very considerable
impression in court; but the learned judge having calmly and with
great perspicuity summed up the evidence which had been
produced, and having observed upon the prisoner's defence, which
he declared to be one of the most ingenious pieces of reasoning
that had ever fallen under his notice, the jury, with little hesitation,
returned a verdict of guilty. Sentence of death was then passed
upon the prisoner, who received the intimation of his fate with
becoming resignation. After his conviction he confessed the justice
of his sentence to two clergymen who were directed to attend him -
- a sufficient proof of the fruitlessness of the efforts to prove him
innocent which the morbid sentimentality of late writers has
induced them to attempt. Upon an inquiry being made of him as to
his reason for committing the crime, he declared that he had reason
to suspect Clarke of having had unlawful intercourse with his wife;
and that at the time of his committing the murder he had thought
that he was acting rightly, but that he had since thought that his
crime could not be justified or excused.

In the hopes of avoiding the ignominious death which he
was doomed to suffer, on the night before his execution he
attempted to commit suicide by cutting his arm in two places with
a razor, which he had concealed for that purpose. This attempt was
not discovered until the morning, when the jailer came to lead him
forth to the place of execution, and he was then found almost
expiring from loss of blood. A surgeon was immediately sent for,
who found that he had wounded himself severely on the left arm,
above the elbow and near the wrist, but he had missed the artery,
and his life was prolonged only in order that it might be taken
away on the scaffold. When he was placed on the drop he was
perfectly sensible, but was too weak to be able to join in devotion
with the clergyman who attended him.

He was executed at York, on the 16th of August, 1759, and
his body was afterwards hung in chains in Knaresborough Forest.

The following papers were afterwards found in his
handwriting on the table in his cell. The first contained reasons for
his attempt upon his life, and was as follows:

"What am I better than my fathers? To die is natural and
necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die than I
did to be born. But the manner of it is something which should, in
my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have regarded both
these points. Certainly no man has a better right to dispose of a
man's life than himself; and he, not others, should determine how.
As for any indignities offered to my body, or silly reflections on
my faith and morals, they are, as they always were, things
indifferent to me. I think, though contrary to the common way of
thinking, I wrong no man by this, and hope it is not offensive to
that eternal Being that formed me and the world: and as by this I
injure no man, no man can be reasonably offended. I solicitously
recommend myself to that eternal and almighty Being, the God of
Nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have not; and I hope
this thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am now stained
by malevolence and suffer by prejudice, I hope to rise fair and
unblemished. My life was not polluted, my morals irreproachable,
and my opinions orthodox. I slept sound till three o'clock, awoke,
and then wrote these lines:
Come, pleasing rest! eternal slumbers, fall!
Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all.
Calm and composed my soul her journey takes;
No guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches.
Adieu, thou sun! all bright, like her, arise!
Adieu, fair friends, and all that's good and wise!

The second was in the form of a letter, addressed to a
former companion, and was in the following terms:--
MY DEAR FRIEND,-- Before this reaches you I shall be no more
a living man in this world, though at present in perfect bodily
health; but who can describe the horrors of mind which I suffer at
this instant? Guilt -- the guilt of blood shed without any
provocation, without any cause but that of filthy lucre -- pierces
my conscience with wounds that give the most poignant pains! 'Tis
true the consciousness of my horrid guilt has given me frequent
interruptions in the midst of my business or pleasures, but yet I
have found means to stifle its clamours, and contrived a
momentary remedy for the disturbance it gave me by applying to
the bottle or the bowl, or diversions, or company, or business;
sometimes one and sometimes the other, as opportunity offered.
But now all these and all other amusements are at an end, and I am
left forlorn, helpless and destitute of every comfort; for I have
nothing now in view but the certain destruction both of my soul
and body. My conscience will now no longer suffer itself to be
hoodwinked or browbeat; it has now got the mastery: it is my
accuser, judge and executioner, and the sentence it pronounceth
against me is more dreadful than that I heard from the Bench,
which only condemned my body to the pains of death, which are
soon over. But Conscience tells me plainly that she will summon
me before another tribunal, where I shall have neither power nor
means to stifle the evidence she will there bring against me; and
that the sentence which will then be denounced will not only be
irreversible, but will condemn my soul to torments that will know
no end.

Oh! had I but hearkened to the advice which dear-bought
experience has enabled me to give, I should not now have been
plunged into that dreadful gulf of despair which I find it impossible
to extricate myself from; and therefore my soul is filled with horror
inconceivable. I see both God and man my enemies, and in a few
hours shall be exposed a public spectacle for the world to gaze at.
Can you conceive any condition more horrible than mine? Oh, no,
it cannot be! I am determined, therefore, to put a short end to
trouble I am no longer able to bear, and prevent the executioner by
doing his business with my own hand, and shall by this means at
least prevent the shame and disgrace of a public exposure, and
leave the care of my soul in the hands of eternal mercy. Wishing
you all health, happiness and prosperity, I am, to the last moment
of my life, yours, with the sincerest regard,

EUGENE ARAM.



JOHN AYLIFFE, ESQ.
Commissary of Musters in the War Office. Executed at Tyburn, 7th
of November, 1759, for Forgery

THE father of John Ayliffe lived several years as an upper
servant with Gerrard Smith, Esq., a gentleman of large fortune near
Tockenham, in Wiltshire. After young Ayliffe had been instructed
in the first rudiments of learning he was sent to the celebrated
academy at Harrow-on-the Hill, where he became very proficient
in Latin and Greek. On his quitting the academy he acted in the
capacity of usher to a boarding school at Lineham, in Wiltshire,
where, unknown to her parents, he married the daughter of a
clergyman, who had a fortune of five hundred pounds. On receipt
of this money he became so extravagant that he spent the whole in
the course of two years, when, being in circumstances of distress, a
widow lady, named Horner, took him into her service as house
steward.

In a short time he was appointed land steward to another
lady, who recommended him as a man of abilities to the
Honourable Mr Fox (afterwards Lord Holland), who gave him the
place of one of the commissaries of musters in the War Office; by
which he acquired the right of adding the title of "Esquire" to his
name.

The profits of Ayliffe's new office were so considerable
that he was induced to purchase an elegant house in Dorsetshire,
which he furnished in a style far too expensive for his rank of life.
In other instances he gave proofs of a strange extravagance of
disposition, for he ran into debt to a number of people, though his
income was sufficient to have satisfied the wishes of anY
reasonable man.

At length, when his creditors became urgent, he had
recourse, for a present supply, to some irregular and very
dangerous practices; amongst others, he forged a presentation to
the valuable rectory of Brinkworth, in Wiltshire, which he sold to a
young clergyman for a considerable sum. This living being in Mr
Fox's gift, he forged his handwriting and that of two subscribing
witnesses, with admirable dexterity; but, soon after Ayliffe's affairs
became desperate, a discovery was made of this infamous fraud.
The effect was that the clergyman took to his bed, and literally
died in consequence of that oppression of spirits which is
commonly called a broken heart; for the purchase of the
presentation had ruined his circumstances. After his death the
following short note was found in his drawer, directed to John
Ayliffe SATAN, ESQ.:--

SIR,--

I am surprised you can write to me, after you have robbed
and most barbarously murdered me.

O. Brinkworth.

Ayliffe, being arrested for debts to the amount of eleven
hundred pounds, took refuge in the Fleet Prison. Mr Fox being
upon a visit to his brother, Lord Ilchester, Mr Calcraft called at
Holland House, according to his usual custom, to inquire, before
he wrote to his patron, whether there were any letters for him, or
any other business to inform him of. One day, as he called, he
found Fanning (whom Mr Fox had now made his steward) in
conversation with a man who had the appearance of a farmer. Just
as Mr Calcraft entered he heard Fanning say: "I'm sure 'tis not my
master's hand; but here comes a gentleman who can inform you
better than I can." Saying this, he delivered into Mr Calcraft's hand
a lease. When Mr Calcraft had looked over it he declared that the
signature was not Mr Fox's. "Nor," continued he, "can there be
such a lease really existing, for the late Mrs Horner discharged
Ayliffe from her service upon account of his having married a
person whom she did not approve of. And it is not to be supposed
she would grant him a lease for the life of himself, his son, and that
very wife for the imprudent choice of whom she had dismissed
him." The farmer no sooner heard this than he exclaimed: "Then I
am undone; the villain has robbed me of what I had saved for my
daughter's portion." Upon a further investigation of the affair, Mr
Calcraft found that the lease given to the farmer had been forged,
purposely to raise money upon.

Mr Fox had made this Ayliffe a riding commissary. The
income arising from this employment was alone more than
sufficient to support such a family as his; but he had, in addition to
it, adopted the profession of buying estates. As he was supposed to
be a good judge of the value of land, Mr Calcraft had empowered
him to purchase estates for him in Dorsetshire; and Ayliffe had
already received the sum of eleven thousand pounds from him for
that purpose, else, in all probability, he would have continued his
depredations for some time longer.

Mr Calcraft no sooner discovered, by this accident, what
Ayliffe had been doing, than he set out in pursuit of him. He found
him at Salisbury, where, under pretext of the forgery, he had him
taken, by proper persons, into custody. This had the desired effect.
In the first emotions of his terror he refunded the whole of the
eleven thousand pounds. Mr Calcraft had him then immediately
secured by Justice Fielding's men, who had come in pursuit of him,
in consequence of an application from the farmer. They clapped a
pair of handcuffs on him and brought him to town, when he was
committed. An express was sent to Mr Fox, who still continued at
Lord Ilchester's, to inform him of the transaction; and the first
knowledge that that gentleman had of it was after Ayliffe stood
committed for trial.

Mr Fox was unjustly censured upon this occasion, as
indeed he was upon many others, where his commissaries had all
the emoluments and he all the odium. The unhappy man, solicitous
for his life, wrote to Mr Fox, who was then in town, and greatly
shocked at the affair. In his letter he requested that gentleman's
forgiveness, and, acknowledging himself the most unworthy of
men, promised, if he would but save him from his merited
sentence, his whole life should be employed in endeavouring to
deserve the mercy, and to atone for the enormities he had been
guilty of. But in the very same hour he wrote to Mr Pitt, who was
then Minister, to inform him that, if he would rescue him from his
approaching fate, he would discover such iniquitous practices of
his late employer as should fully repay the saving him. Mr Pitt,
with a liberality of sentiment which does honour to his memory,
sent the wretch's letter immediately to Mr Fox. That gentleman
received it as he was preparing to go to court on purpose to solicit
the prisoner's pardon; but this discovery of his baseness now
rendered it impossible, as such an application would have carried
with it a declaration of his being in the villain's power, and that he
was apprehensive of his putting his threats into execution. No
intercession was of course made for him, and he suffered the due
reward of his crime.

Ayliffe seems to have been much unprepared for death,
possibly flattering himself with the hopes of a pardon. He was in
the utmost agonies during the greater part of the night previous to
his execution, but slept about two hours. towards the approach of
morning. His agitation of mind, brought on a fever, producing an
intolerable thirst, which he endeavoured to allay by drinking large
and repeated draughts of water. After execution his body was put
into a hearse and conveyed into Hertfordshire, for interment
agreeable to his own request.



WILLIAM ANDREW HORNE, ESQ.
Executed at Nottingham, 11th of December, 1759, in the Seventy-
fifth Year of his Age, for Murder, concealed Twenty-five Years

WILLIAM ANDREW HORNE'S father was an
accomplished scholar. In vain he endeavoured to impart
knowledge to his son, who attended alone to his pleasures. Instead
of sending him where he would have been taught some manners,
the too-indulgent parent permitted him to take his own course;
allowed him horses and hounds, on which so many have galloped
to destruction; and, in fine, he became a bumpkin squire. He
seduced several girls, two of whom were servants to his mother,
and one was the daughter of a farmer, which latter died in
consequence of her grief. By one woman he had two natural
daughters, one of whom lived to the age of fifteen years, and the
other was living in 1759, and might have been reputably married,
but that the avaricious father refused to give her a shilling as a
fortune.

He had likewise criminal connection with his own sister;
which leads us to speak of the crime for which he suffered. This
sister being delivered of a boy, in February, 1724, Horne told his
brother Charles, three days afterwards, and at ten o'clock at night,
that he must take a ride with him. He then put the new-born infant
in a bag and, mounting their horses, they rode to Annesley, in
Nottinghamshire, at the distance of five computed miles, carrying
the child alternately. On their arrival near the village William
dismounted, and inquired if the child was living, and being
answered in the affirmative he took it, and told his brother to wait
till he came back. On his return, Charles demanded to know how
he had disposed of the infant; to which he said that he had placed it
behind a haystack, and covered it with hay. On the following
morning the child was found dead, through severity of the weather.

In a short time after the transaction a quarrel happened
between the brothers, in consequence of which Charles
communicated the affair to his father, who enjoined him to the
strictest secrecy; which was observed till the death of the old
gentleman, who departed this life, aged one hundred and two
years, in the year 1747.

William having always behaved with great severity to his
brother Charles, and the latter (soon after the death of the father)
having some business to transact with Mr Cooke, an attorney at
Derby, told him of the long-concealed affair, and asked his advice.
The lawyer told him to go to a Justice of the Peace and make a full
discovery of the whole transaction.

Thereupon Charles went to a magistrate and acquainted
him with what had happened; but he hesitated to take cognisance
of it -- said it might hang half the family, and, as it had happened
so many years ago, advised that it might remain a secret.

In consequence thereof no further notice was taken of it till
the year 1754, when Charles Horne, being seized with a violent fit
of illness, called in the assistance of one Mr White, of Ripley, and,
presuming that he should live but a short time, said he could not
die in peace without disclosing his mind. When Mr White had
heard the tale he declined giving any advice, saying it was not
proper for him to interfere in the affair.

Charles recovered his health in a surprising manner; and
Mr White, who saw him again a few days after, expressing his
astonishment at so speedy a recovery, the other said he had been
better ever since he had disclosed his mind to him.

A considerable time after this, William Horne had a quarrel
with a Mr Roe, at a public-house, concerning the right of killing
game; when Roe called Horne an "incestuous old dog." Thereupon
Horne prosecuted him in the Ecclesiastical Court at Lichfield,
where Roe was cast, and obliged to pay all expenses. This
circumstance inflamed Roe with revenge, and, having learned that
Charles Horne had mentioned something of his brother having
caused his natural child to be starved to death, he made such
inquiry of Charles as determined him how to act.

Thereupon he went to a magistrate in Derbyshire and
obtained a warrant, but took Charles's word for his appearance on
the following day. William, hearing that such warrant was granted,
and being apprehensive that his brother might be admitted
evidence, sent for him and told him that he would be his friend if
he would deny all that he had said. This the other refused; but told
him that if he would give him five pounds he would go
immediately to Liverpool, and quit the kingdom: but William's
excessive avarice prevented his complying with this moderate
request.

Charles being examined by some magistrates in
Derbyshire, they declined interfering in the business. On which a
Justice of the Peace in Nottinghamshire was applied to, who issued
a warrant for taking William Andrew Horne, Esq., into custody;
and this warrant was backed by Sir John Every, a magistrate of
Derbyshire.

A constable from Annesley went with Mr Roe and some
other assistants to Mr Horne's house. They now diligently searched
the house, but could not find the party they wanted, and would
probably have desisted, but that Roe insisted on making another
search, during which they observed a large old chest, and Mrs
Horne, on being asked what it contained, said it was full of sheets
and table linen. Roe declared he would look into it, and was on the
point of breaking it open when Mrs Horne unlocked it, and her
husband suddenly started up, saying: "It is a sad thing to hang me;
for my brother Charles is as bad as myself, and he cannot hang me
without hanging himself."

Thereupon he was taken into custody, and, being carried
before two Justices of the Peace in Nottinghamshire, they
committed him to take his trial at the following assizes.

He had not been long in confinement when he applied to
the Court of King's Bench for a writ of habeas corpus, which being
granted, he was brought to London, and his counsel argued that he
ought to be admitted to bail; but the judges were of a different
opinion, and he was remanded to the jail of Nottingham.

On the 10th of August, 1759, he was brought to trial before
Lord Chief Baron Parker, and, after a hearing of about nine hours,
the jury found him guilty, and sentence of death was passed. On
the day appointed for his execution he had just completed his
seventy-fourth year.



THE REVEREND MR WHEATLEY
Sentenced to do Public Penance for Adultery

In the present day, adultery, is degenerated into a kind of
fashionable and expensive vice among the rich of all the polished
nations of Europe; while the poor labourer, surrounded by the
children born in wedlock, and yet crying for bread, only heaves a
sigh at such enormities.

A vice indulged in by the example of the great must spread
like contagion, and every thoughtless young man become infected.
When the great, though bound by the marriage vow, live in open
and voluptuous adultery, lesser men will have their concubines too;
and thus wives are deserted, and left either to pine under neglect,
or, roused by their wrongs, desperately to seek retaliation.

The number of kept women in and about the metropolis we
have already calculated. Most of them are maintained in affluence;
and, having no kind of regard either for the person or the property
of their dupe, they launch into every kind of extravagance and
dissipation.

Corruption of morals in the people, though the progress be
slow, will surely prove the downfall of their nation. When the
hardy warriors of ancient Rome quitted "the trade of arms," and,
for the martial step, substituted "Love's majesty to strut before a
wanton ambling nymph," then commenced that degeneracy which
in time overwhelmed their mighty empire, and left them an
effeminate race, contemptible to those very nations they had
formerly conquered.

About the year 1759 the crime of adultery was proved, with
aggravated circumstances, against a profligate fellow, under the
mask of Puritanism, of the name of Wheatley. This man was a
Methodist preacher, who was styled Reverend, and a schoolmaster
at Norwich.

He was brought to trial for adultery committed with several
of his neighbours' wives, all professing Methodism, at the
Ecclesiastical Court of the Bishop of Norwich.

Sufficient proof having been adduced, the judge declared
the said Wheatley to be a lewd, debauched, incontinent, and
adulterous man; and that he had committed the crimes adultery,
fornication, and incontinence, to the great scandal of good men,
and pernicious to the example of others. He was then sentenced to
do public penance in a linen cloth, in the parish church, with a
paper pinned to his breast, denoting his crime; and condemned to
pay the costs of the suit.

Formerly adulterers were exposed to public odium and
derision, in white sheets, in the parish church. The story in the
Spectator, of the adulteress riding on a black ram, is founded on
fact:

"At East Bourne and West Bourne, in the county of Berks,
if a customary tenant die, the widow shall have what the law calls
her free bench in all copyhold land, dum sola et casta fuerit; that
is, while she lives single and chaste; but, if she commit
incontinency, she forfeits her estate: yet, if she will come into
court, riding backward upon a black ram, with his tail in her hand,
and say the following words, the steward is bound by the custom to
re-admit her to her free bench:

"Here I am,
Riding upon a black ram,
Like a whore as I am;
And for my crincum crancum
Have lost my bincum bancum,
And for my tail's game
Have done this worldly shame;
Therefore I pray you, Mr Steward,
Let me have my land again."

There is a like custom in the manor of Torre, in
Devonshire, and other parts of the west.



MUNGO CAMPBELL
A Gentleman, who was convicted of killing the Earl of Eglinton,
and to avoid an Ignominious Death hanged himself, 28th of
February, 1760

THE unhappy subject of this narrative was protected by an
uncle, who gave him a learned education; but this generous friend
died when the youth was about eighteen years of age, leaving him
sixty pounds, and earnestly recommending him to the care of his
other relations. The young man was a finished scholar, yet seemed
averse to making the choice of any of the learned professions. His
attachment appeared to be to the military life, in which line many 
of his ancestors had most gloriously distinguished themselves.

Mr Campbell entered as a cadet in the royal regiment of
Scots Greys, then commanded by his relation, General Campbell,
and served during two campaigns at his own expense, in the fond
hope of military preferment.

After the battle of Dettingen, at which he assisted, he had
an opportunity of being appointed quartermaster if he could have
raised one hundred pounds, but this place was bestowed on another
person while Campbell was making fruitless application for the
money.

Thus disappointed of what he thought a reasonable
expectation, he quitted the army and went into Scotland, where he
arrived at the juncture when the rebels had quitted Edinburgh, in
1745, Lord Loudoun having then the command of loyal
Highlanders, who exerted so much bravery in the suppression of
the Rebellion; and Mr Campbell, having the honour to be related to
his lordship, went and fought under him with a bravery that did
equal credit to his loyalty and courage.

Not long after the decisive battle of Culloden, Lord
Loudoun procured his kinsman to be appointed an officer of the
excise; and prevailed on the commissioners to station him in the
shire of Ayr, that he might have the happiness of residing near his
friends and relations.

In the discharge of his new duty Mr Campbell behaved
with strict integrity to the Crown, yet with so much civility as to
conciliate the affections of all those with whom he had any
transactions. He married when he was somewhat advanced in life;
and so unexceptionable was his whole conduct that all the nobility
and gentry in the neighbourhood (the Earl of Eglinton excepted)
gave him permission to kill game on their estates. However, he
was very moderate in the use of this indulgence, seldom shooting
but with a view to gratify a friend with a present; hardly ever for
his own emolument.

Mr Campbell had a singular attachment to fishing; and, a
river in Lord Eglinton's estate affording the finest fish in that
country, he would willingly have angled there, but his lordship
being as strict with regard to his fish as his game, Campbell,
unwilling to offend him, gave away his fishing-tackle, which was
excellent in its kind. He was likewise in possession of a fine
pointer, which he sold; but would not part with his gun, which
produced him the greatest pleasure of his life.

Campbell, being in search of smugglers, and having his gun
with him, was crossing part of Lord Eglinton's estate when a hare
started up, and he shot her. His lordship hearing the report of the
gun, and being informed that Campbell had fired it, sent a servant
to command him to come to the seat. Campbell obeyed the
disagreeable summons, but was treated very cavalierly by his
lordship, who even descended to call him by names of contempt.
The other apologised for his conduct, which he said arose from the
sudden starting of the hare, and declared that he had no design of
giving offence. This might have been a sufficient apology to any
other man than Lord Eglinton.

A man named Bartleymore was among the servants of Lord
Eglinton, and was a favourite of his lordship, and this man dealt
largely in contraband goods. Mr Campbell, passing along the
seashore, met Bartleymore with a cart containing eighty gallons of
rum, which he seized as contraband; and the rum was condemned,
but the cart was restored, being the property of Lord Eglinton.

In this affair it will appear evident that Mr Campbell did
not exceed his duty; but Bartleymore was so incensed against him
that he contrived many tales to his disadvantage, and at length
engaged his lordship's passions so far that he conceived a more
unfavourable opinion of Campbell than he had hitherto done.

About ten in the morning of the 24th of October, 1769,
Campbell took his gun and went out with another officer with a
view to detecting smugglers. Mr Campbell took with him a licence
for shooting, which had been given him by Dr Hunter, though he
had no particular design of killing any game, but intended to shoot
a woodcock if he should see one.

They crossed a small part of Lord Eglinton's estate, in order
to reach the seashore, where they intended to walk. When they
arrived at this spot it was near noon, and Lord Eglinton came up in
his coach, attended by Mr Wilson, a carpenter, and followed by
four servants on horseback. On approaching the coast his lordship
met Bartleymore who told him there were some poachers at a
distance, and that Campbell was among them. Lord Eglinton
quitted his coach and, mounting a led horse, rode to the spot,
where he saw Campbell and the other officer, whose name was
Brown. His lordship said: "Mr Campbell, I did not expect to have
found you so soon again on my grounds, after your promise when
you shot the hare." He then demanded Campbell's gun, which the
latter declared he would not part with.

Lord Eglinton now rode towards him, while Campbell
retreated, with his gun presented, desiring him to keep at a
distance. Still, however, his lordship advanced, smiling, and said:
"Are you going to shoot me?" Campbell replied: "I will, if you do
not keep off." Hereupon Lord Eglinton called to his servants to
bring him a gun, which one of them took from the coach, and
delivered to another to carry to their master.

In the interim Lord Eglinton, leading his horse, approached
Mr Campbell and demanded his gun, but the latter would not
deliver it. The peer then quitted his horse's bridle and continued
advancing, while Campbell still retired, though in an irregular
direction, and pointed his gun towards his pursuer.

At length Lord Eglinton came so near him that Campbell
said: "I beg your pardon, my lord, but I will not deliver my gun to
any man living; therefore keep off, or I will certainly shoot you."
At this instant Bartleymore, advancing, begged Campbell to
deliver his gun to Lord Eglinton; but the latter answered he would
not, for he "had a right to carry a gun."

His lordship did not dispute his general right, but said that
he could not have any to carry it on his estate without his
permission. Campbell again begged pardon, and still continued
retreating, but with his gun in his hand, and preparing to fire in his
own defence. While he was thus walking backwards his heel struck
against a stone and he fell, when he was about the distance of three
yards from the pursuer. Lord Eglinton observed him fall on his
back, and stepped forward, as if he would have passed by
Campbell's feet. The latter, observing this, reared himself on his
elbow, and lodged the contents of his piece in the left side of his
lordship's body.

A contest now ensued, during which Bartleymore
repeatedly struck Campbell. Being observed by Lord Eglinton, he
called out: "Do not use him ill." Campbell, being secured, was
conducted to the wounded man, then lying on the ground, who
said: "Mr Campbell, I would not have shot you." But Campbell
made no answer. His hands were tied behind him, and he was
conducted to the town of Saltcoats, the place of his former station
as an exciseman.

Lord Eglinton dying, after languishing ten hours, Mr
Campbell was, on the following day, committed to the prison of
Ayr, and the next month removed to Edinburgh, in preparation for
his trial before the High Court of Justiciary. The trial commenced
on the 27th of February, 1770, and the jury having found Mr
Campbell guilty he was sentenced to die.

On his return to prison he was visited by several of his
friends, among whom he behaved with apparently decent
cheerfulness; and, retiring to his apartment, he begged the favour
of a visit from them on the following day. But in the morning he
was found dead, hanging to the end of a form which he had set
upright, with a silk handkerchief round his neck.

The following lines were found upon the floor, close to the
body:--
"Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And now am careless what thou say'st of me,
Thy smiles I court not, nor thy frowns I fear,
My cares are past, my heart lies easy here,
What faults they find in me take care to shun,
And look at home, enough is to be done."



ROBERT TILLING
Executed at Tyburn, 28th of April, 1760 for robbing his Master

MR LLOYD was an eminent merchant, and lived in
Devonshire Square, Bishopsgate Street, London. He kept his
carriage, and hired Tilling as his coachman.

On the 19th of February, 1760, at four o'clock in the
morning, Mr Lloyd was disturbed from sleep by a noise in his
house; and he presently saw a man at his bedside, with a lantern
and a pistol in his hands. He presented the latter to Mr Lloyd's
head, and demanded the keys of his escritoire, threatening him
with instant death if he refused. Having received them, he told the
owner that, in case of his calling out, or even moving, he had left a
guard who would dispatch him. This was the confederate villain,
the coachman, who kept himself in the background, that his master
should not know him.

This singular robber then went downstairs and opened the
money drawer, which contained a considerable sum. With this he
returned to Mr Lloyd and said: "You see, sir, I have only taken the
money out of your escritoire; your plate, watch, or anything else I
have not meddled with; and as to the little cash in your pocket, I
scorn to meddle with it." The thieves then made their escape.
Suspicious circumstances being against Tilling, he was
apprehended, and brought before the Lord Mayor, who committed
him for a second examination.

Upon being again brought up, he confessed to his lordship
the robbery above described; and further, that he had robbed Mr
Hayward and two other gentlemen, but denied a mail robbery, of
which he was also suspected.

He was brought to trial at the next sessions at the Old
Bailey, convicted, and received sentence of death.



LAURENCE, EARL FERRERS
Executed at Tyburn, 5th of May, 1760, for the Murder of his
Steward, after a Trial before his Peers

LAURENCE, EARL FERRERS, was descended of an
ancient and noble family. The royal blood of the Plantagenets
flowed in his veins, and the Earl gained his title in the following
manner. The second baronet of the family, Sir Henry Shirley,
married a daughter of the celebrated Earl of Essex, who was
beheaded in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and his son, Sir Robert
Shirley, died in the Tower, where he was confined during the
Protectorate, for his attachment to the cause of the Stuarts. Upon
the Restoration, the second son of Sir Robert succeeded to the title
and estates, and Charles, anxious to cement the bonds which
attached his friends to him, summoned him to the Upper House of
Parliament by the title of Lord Ferrers of Chartley, as the
descendant of one of the co-heiresses of the Earl of Essex; the title,
which had existed since the reign of Edward III., having been in
abeyance since the death of that unfortunate nobleman. In the year
1711, Robert, Lord Ferrers, was created, by Queen Anne, Viscount
Tamworth and Earl Ferrers; and it appears that although the estates
of the family were very great, they were vastly diminished by the
provisions which the Earl thought proper to make for his numerous
progeny, consisting of fifteen sons and twelve daughters, born to
him by his two wives. At the death of the first Earl his title
descended to his second son; but he dying without issue it went in
succession to the ninth son, who was childless, and the tenth son,
who was the father of the Earl, Laurence, the subject of the present
sketch.

This nobleman was married in the year 1752 to the
youngest daughter of Sir William Meredith; but although his
general conduct, when sober, was not such as to be remarkable, yet
his faculties were so much impaired by drink that, when under the
influence of intoxication, he acted with all the wildness and
brutality of a madman.

On this occasion it may not he improper to observe on that
extravagance which is too frequently the consequence of
inebriation. If a man did but consider how he reduces himself even
below the level of a brute by drunkenness, surely he would never
be guilty of such a low, such a pitiful vice!
At Derby races in the year 1756, Lord Ferrers ran his mare against
Captain M--'s horse for L.50, and was the winner. When the race
was ended, he spent the evening with some gentlemen, and in the
course of conversation the captain (who had heard that his
lordship's mare was with foal) proposed, in a jocose manner, to run
his horse against her at the expiration of seven months. Lord
Ferrers was so affronted by this circumstance, which he conceived
to have arisen from a preconcerted plan to insult him, that he
quitted Derby at three o'clock in the morning, and went
immediately to his seat at Stanton-Harold in Leicestershire.

He rang his bell as soon as he awaked; and a servant
attending, he asked, if he knew how Capt. M came to be informed
that his mare was with foal. The servant declared that he was
ignorant of the matter, but the groom might have told it; and, the
groom being called, he denied having given any information
respecting the matter.

Previous to the affront presumed to have been given on the
preceding evening, lord Ferrers had invited the captain and the rest
of the company to dine with him as on that day; but they all
refused their attendance, though he sent a servant to remind them
that they had promised to come. Lord Ferrers was so enraged at
this disappointment, that he kicked and horse-whipped his
servants, and threw at them such articles as lay within his reach.

The following will afford a specimen of the brutality of
lord Ferrers's behaviour. Some oysters had been sent from London,
which not proving good, his lordship directed one of the servants
to swear that the carrier had changed them; but the servant
declining to take such an oath, the earl flew on him in a rage,
stabbed him in the breast with a knife, cut his head with a
candlestick and kicked him on the groin with such severity, that he
was incapable of a retention of urine for several years afterwards.

Lord Ferrers's brother and his wife paying a visit to him
and his countess at Stanton-Harold, some dispute arose between
the parties; and lady Ferrers being absent from the room, the earl
ran up stairs with a large clasp-knife in his hand, and asked a
servant whom he met, where his lady was. The man said, 'in her
own room;' and being directed to follow him thither, lord Ferrers
ordered him to load a brace of pistols with bullets. This order was
complied with: but the servant, apprehensive of mischief, declined
priming the pistols, which lord Ferrers discovering, swore at him,
asked him for powder, and primed them himself. He then
threatened that if he did not immediately go and shoot his brother
the captain, he would blow his brains out. The servant hesitating,
his lordship pulled the trigger of one of the pistols; but it missed
fire. Hereupon the countess dropped on her knees, and begged him
to appease his passions; but in return he swore at her, and
threatened her destruction if she opposed him. The servant now
escaped from the room, and reported what had passed to his
lordship's brother, who immediately called his wife from her bed,
and they left the house, though it was then two o'clock in the
morning.

For a time his wife perceived nothing which induced her to
repent the step she had taken in being united to him, but he
subsequently behaved to her with such unwarrantable cruelty that
she was compelled to quit his protection, and, rejoining her father's
family, to apply to Parliament for redress. An Act was in
consequence passed, allowing her a separate maintenance, to be
raised out of her husband's estate; and, trustees being appointed,
the unfortunate Mr Johnson, who fell a sacrifice to the
ungovernable passion of Lord Ferrers -- having been bred up in the
family from his youth, and being distinguished for the regular
manner in which he kept his accounts, and his fidelity as a steward
-- was proposed as receiver of the rents for her use. He at first
declined the office; but subsequently, at the desire of the Earl
himself, consented to act, and continued in this employment for a
considerable time.

His lordship at this time lived at Stanton, a seat about two
miles from Ashby-de-la-Zouch, in Leicestershire; and his family
consisted of Mrs Clifford, a lady who lived with him, and her four
natural daughters, besides five men-servants, exclusive of an old
man and a boy, and three maids.

Mr Johnson lived at the house belonging to the farm, which
he held under his lordship, called the Lount, about half-a-mile
distant from Stanton. It appears that it was his custom to visit his
noble master occasionally, to settle the accounts which were placed
under his care; but his lordship gradually conceived a dislike for
him, grounded upon the prejudice raised in his mind on account of
his being the receiver of the Countess's portion, and charged him
with having combined with the trustees to prevent his receiving a
coal contract. From this time he spoke of him in opprobrious
terms, and said he had conspired with his enemies to injure him,
and that he was a villain; and with these sentiments he gave him
warning to quit an advantageous farm which he held under his
lordship. Finding, however, that the trustees under the Act of
separation had already granted him a lease of it, it having been
promised to him by the Earl or his relations, he was disappointed,
and probably from that time he meditated a more cruel revenge.

On Sunday, the 13th of January, 1760, Earl Ferrers went to
the Lount, and, after some discourse with Mr Johnson, ordered him
to come to him at Stanton on the Friday following, the 18th, at
three o'clock in the afternoon. His lordship's usual dinner-hour was
two o'clock; and soon after that meal was disposed of, on the
Friday, he went to Mrs Clifford, who was in the still-house, and
desired her to take the children for a walk. She accordingly
prepared herself and her daughters, and, with the permission of the
Earl, went to her father's, at a short distance, being directed to
return at half-past five. The men-servants were next dispatched on
errands by their master, who was thus left in the house with the
three females only. In a short time afterwards Mr Johnson came,
according to his appointment, and was admitted by one of the
maid-servants, named Elizabeth Burgeland. He proceeded at once 
to his lordship's apartment, but was desired to wait in the still-
house; and then, after the expiration of about ten minutes, the Earl,
calling him into his own room, went in with him and locked the
door. Being thus together, the Earl required him first to settle an
account, and then, charging him with the villainy which he
attributed to him, ordered him to kneel down. The unfortunate man
went down on one knee; upon which the Earl, in a tone of voice
loud enough to be heard by the maid-servants without, cried:
"Down on your other knee! Declare that you have acted against
Lord Ferrers. Your time is come -- you must die." Then suddenly
drawing a pistol from his pocket, which was loaded, he presented it
and immediately fired. The ball entered the body of the unfortunate
man, but he rose up, and entreated that no further violence might
be done him; and the female servants at that time coming to the
door, being alarmed by the report, his lordship quitted the room. A
messenger was immediately dispatched for Mr Kirkland, a
surgeon, who lived at Ashby-de-la-Zouch; and Johnson being put
to bed, his lordship went to him and asked him how he felt. He
answered that he was dying, and desired that his family might be
sent for. Miss Johnson soon after arrived, and Lord Ferrers
immediately followed her into the room where her father Jay. He
then pulled down the clothes and applied a pledget, dipped in
arquebusade water, to the wound, and soon after left him.

From this time it appears that his lordship applied himself
to his favourite amusement -- drinking -- until he became
exceedingly violent (for at the time of the commission of the
murder he is reported to have been sober), and on the arrival of Mr
Kirkland he told him that he had shot Johnson, but believed he was
more frightened than hurt; that he had intended to shoot him dead,
for that he was a villain, and deserved to die; "but," said he, "now
that I have spared his life, I desire you would do what you can for 
him." His lordship at the same time desired that he would not
suffer himself to be seized, and declared that if anyone should
attempt it he would shoot him. Mr Kirkland told him that he should
not be seized, and directly went to the wounded man. He found the
ball had lodged in the body; at which his lordship expressed great
surprise, declaring that he had tried that pistol a few days before
and that it then carried a ball through a deal board nearly an inch
and a half thick. Mr Kirkland then went downstairs to prepare
some dressings, and my lord soon after left the room. From this
time, in proportion as the liquor which he continued to drink took
effect, his passions became more tumultuous, and the transient fit
of compassion, mixed with fear for himself, which had excited
him, gave way to starts of rage and the predominance of malice.
He went up into the room where Johnson was dying and pulled
him by the wig, calling him a villain, and threatening to shoot him
through the head; and the last time he went to him he was with
great difficulty prevented from tearing the clothes off the bed, that
he might strike him.

A proposal was made to him in the evening by Mrs Clifford
that Mr Johnson should be removed to his own house; but he
replied: "He shall not be removed; I will keep him here, to plague
the villain." He afterwards spoke to Miss Johnson about her father,
and told her that if he died he would take care of her and of the
family, provided they did not prosecute.

When his lordship went to bed, which was between eleven
and twelve, he told Mr Kirkland that he knew he could, if he
would, set the affair in such a light as to prevent his being seized,
desiring that he might see him before he went away in the
morning, and declaring that he would rise at any hour.

Mr Kirkland, however, was very solicitous to get Mr
Johnson removed, and, as soon as the Earl had gone, he set about
carrying his object into effect. He in consequence went to Lount
and, having fitted up an easy-chair with poles, by way of a sedan,
and procured a guard, returned at about two o'clock and carried Mr
Johnson to his house, where he expired at about nine o'clock on the
following morning.

The neighbours now began to take measures to secure the
murderer, and a few of them, having armed themselves, set out for
Stanton; and as they entered the yard they saw his lordship, partly
undressed, going towards the stable, as if to take out a horse. One
of them, named Springthorpe, then advancing towards his lordship
with a pistol in his hand, required him to surrender; but the latter
putting his hand towards his pocket, his assailant, imagining that
he was feeling for some weapon of offence, stopped short, and
allowed him to escape into the house. A great concourse of people
by this time had come to the spot, and they cried out loudly that the
Earl should come forth. Two hours elapsed, however, before
anything was seen of him, and then he came to the garret window
and called out: "How is Johnson?" He was answered that he was
dead. But he said it was a lie, and desired that the people should
disperse -- and then he gave orders that they should be let in and
furnished with victuals and drink, and finally he went away from
the window, swearing that no man should take him. The mob still
remained on the spot, and in about two hours the Earl was descried
by a collier, named Curtis, walking on the bowling-green, armed
with a blunderbuss, a brace of pistols and a dagger. Curtis,
however, so far from being intimidated by his bold appearance,
walked up to him; and his lordship, struck with the resolution he
displayed, immediately surrendered himself, and gave up his arms,
but directly afterwards declared that he had killed the villain, and
gloried in the act. He was instantly conveyed in custody to a
public-house at Ashby, kept by a man named Kinsey; and a
coroner's jury having brought in a verdict of wilful murder against
him, he was on the following Monday committed to the custody of
the keeper of the jail at Leicester.

Being entitled, however, by his rank to be tried before his
peers, he was, about a fortnight afterwards, conveyed to London, in
his landau, drawn by six horses, under a strong guard; and, being
carried before the House of Lords, he was committed to the
custody of the Black Rod, and ordered to the Tower, where he
arrived at about six o'clock on the evening of the 14th of February.
He is reported to have behaved, during the whole journey and at
his commitment, with great calmness and propriety. He was
confined in the Round Tower, near the drawbridge: two wardens
were constantly in the room with him, and one at the door; two
sentinels were posted at the bottom of the stairs, and one upon the
drawbridge, with their bayonets fixed; and from this time the gates
were ordered to be shut an hour sooner than usual.

During his confinement he was moderate both in eating and
drinking: his breakfast was a half-pint basin of tea, with a small
spoonful of brandy in it, and a muffin; with his dinner he generally
drank a pint of wine and a pint of water, and another pint of each
with his supper. In general his behaviour was decent and quiet,
except that he would sometimes suddenly start, tear open his
waistcoat, and use other gestures, which showed that his mind was
disturbed.

Mrs Clifford and the four young ladies, who had come up
with him from Leicestershire, took a lodging in Tower Street, and
for some time a servant was continually passing with letters
between them; but afterwards this correspondence was permitted
only once a day.

Mrs Clifford came three times to the Tower to see him, but
was not admitted; but his children were suffered to be with him
some time.

On the 16th of April, having been a prisoner in the Tower
two months and two days, he was brought to his trial, which
continued till the 18th, before the House of Lords, assembled for
that purpose, Lord Henley, Keeper of the Great Seal, having been
created Lord High Steward upon the occasion.

The murder was easily proved to have been committed; and
his lordship then proceeded to enter upon his defence. He called
several witnesses, the object of whose testimony was to show that
the Earl was not of sound mind, but none of them proved such an
insanity as made him not accountable for his conduct. His lordship
managed his defence himself in such a manner as showed an
uncommon understanding: he mentioned the fact of his being
reduced to the necessity of attempting to prove himself a lunatic,
that he might not be deemed a murderer, with the most delicate and
affecting sensibility; and, when he found that his plea could not
avail him, he confessed that he made it only to gratify his friends;
that he was always averse to it himself; and that it had prevented
what he had proposed, and what perhaps might have taken off the
malignity at least of the accusation.

The Peers having in the usual form delivered their verdict,
of guilty, his lordship received sentence to be hanged on Monday,
the 21st of April, and then to be anatomised; but, in consideration
of his rank, the execution of this sentence was respited till
Monday, the 5th of May.

During this interval he made a will, by which he left one
thousand, three hundred pounds to Mr Johnson's children, one
thousand pounds to each of his four natural daughters, and sixty
pounds a year to Mrs Clifford for her life; but this disposition of
his property, being made after his conviction, was not valid,
although it was said that the same, or nearly the same, provision
was afterwards made for the parties named.

In the meantime a scaffold was erected under the gallows at
Tyburn, and part of it, about a yard square, was raised about
eighteen inches above the rest of the floor, with a contrivance to
sink down upon a signal given, in accordance with the plan then
invariably adopted; the whole being covered with black baize.

On the morning of the 5th of May, at about nine o'clock,
his lordship's body was demanded of the keeper of the Tower, by
the sheriffs of London and Middlesex, and his lordship, being
informed of it, sent a message to the sheriffs, requesting that he
might be permitted to be conveyed to the scaffold in his own
landau, in preference to the mourning-coach which was provided
for him. This being granted, his landau, drawn by six horses,
immediately drew up, and he entered it, accompanied by Mr
Humphries, the Chaplain of the Tower, who had been admitted to
him that morning for the first time. On the carriage reaching the
outer gate, the Earl was delivered up to the sheriffs, and Mr Sheriff
Vaillant entered the vehicle with him, expressing his concern at
having so melancholy a duty to perform; but his lordship said he
"was much obliged to him, and took it kindly that he accompanied
him." The Earl was attired in a white suit, richly embroidered with
silver; and when he put it on he said: "This is the suit in which I
was married, and in which I will die." The procession, being now
formed, moved forward slowly, the landau being preceded by a
considerable body of Horse Grenadiers, and by a carriage
containing Mr Sheriff Errington, and his under-sheriff, Mr
Jackson, and being followed by the carriage of Mr Sheriff Vaillant,
containing Mr Nichols, his under-sheriff, a mourning-coach-and-
six, containing some of his lordship's friends, a hearse-and-six for
the conveyance of his body to Surgeons' Hall after execution, and
another body of military. The pace at which they proceeded, in
consequence of the density of the mob, was so slow that his
lordship was two hours and three-quarters in his landau, but during
that time he appeared perfectly easy and composed, though he
often expressed his anxiety to have the whole affair over, saying
that the apparatus of death and the passing through such crowds
were worse than death itself, and that he supposed so large a mob
had been collected because the people had never seen a lord
hanged before. He told the sheriff that he had written to the King to
beg that he might suffer where his ancestor, the Earl of Essex, had
been executed, and that he had had greater hopes of obtaining that
favour as he had the honour of quartering part of the same arms,
and of being allied to his Majesty; but that he had refused, and he
thought it hard that he must die at the place appointed for the
execution of common felons.

When his lordship had arrived at that part of Holborn which
is near Drury Lane he said he was "thirsty, and should be glad of a
glass of wine-and-water;" upon which the sheriffs, remonstrating
with him, said that a stop for that purpose would necessarily draw
a greater crowd about him, which might possibly disturb and
incommode him, yet, if his lordship still desired it, it should be
done. He most readily answered: "That's true --I say no more -- let
us by no means stop."

When the landau advanced to the place of execution his
lordship alighted from it, and ascended the scaffold with the same
composure and fortitude of mind he had exhibited from the time he
left the Tower. Soon after he had mounted the scaffold, Mr
Humphries asked his lordship if he chose to say prayers, which he
declined; but upon his asking him if he did not choose to join with
him in the Lord's Prayer he readily answered he would, for he
always thought it a very fine prayer. Upon which they knelt down
together upon two cushions covered with black baize, and his
lordship, with an audible voice, very devoutly repeated the Lord's
Prayer, and afterwards, with great energy, ejaculated "Oh, God,
forgive me all my errors -- pardon all my sins!"

His lordship, then rising, took his leave of the sheriff and
the chaplain; and, after thanking them for their many civilities,
presented his watch to Mr Sheriff Vaillant, of which he desired his
acceptance, and requested that his body might be buried at Breden
or Stanton, in Leicestershire.

The executioner now proceeded to do his duty, to which his
lordship, with great resignation, submitted. His neck-cloth being
taken off, and a white cap, which he had brought in his pocket,
being put upon his head, his arms secured by a black sash, and the 
cord put round his neck, he advanced by three steps to the elevated
part of the scaffold, and, standing under the cross-beam which
went over it, which was also covered with black baize, he asked
the executioner: "Am I right?" Then the cap was drawn over his
face, and, upon a signal given by the sheriff (for his lordship, upon
being before asked, declined to give one himself), that part upon
which he stood instantly sank down from beneath his feet, and he
was launched into eternity, the 5th of May, 1760.

The accustomed time of one hour being past, the coffin was
raised up, with the greatest decency, to receive the body; and,
being deposited in the hearse, was conveyed by the sheriffs, with
the same procession, to Surgeons' Hall, to undergo the remainder
of the sentence. A large incision was then made from the neck to
the bottom of the breast, and another across the throat; the lower
part of the belly was laid open and the bowels taken away. It was
afterwards publicly exposed to view in a room up one pair of stairs
at the Hall; and on the evening of Thursday, the 8th of May, it was
delivered to his friends for interment.

The following verse is said to have been found in his
apartment:--
"In doubt I lived, in doubt I die,
 Yet stand prepared the vast abyss to try,
 and, undismay'd, expect eternity."

The case of lord Ferrers demands our serious attention. He
was born to great hopes and high expectations, and was
confessedly a man of superior abilities; but the unhappy
indulgence of his passions led to his ruin. Hence, then, the due
government of the passions ought to be learnt; for what is the man,
who permits their unbounded gratification, but something lower
than a brute?

Lord Ferrers appears to have been uninfluenced by the mild
doctrines of Christianity. If these had held their proper weight on
his mind, it would have been impossible that he could have acted
as he did: but when Religion fails to produce its natural, its
genuine effects, the man ceases to appear as such, and becomes an
object of compassion, if not of contempt!



FRANCIS DAVID STIRN
Convicted of Murder, but poisoned himseff in Newgate, 12th of
September, 1760, after a Hunger Strike

FRANCIS DAVID STIRN was by birth a German. A man
of erudition, he was born in the principality of Hesse-Cassel, about
the year 1735. His father was a minister, and his brother a
metropolitan minister at Hersfeld.

Francis was sent to a public grammar school in Hesse-
Cassel, where be made considerable progress, and was then
removed to a college at Bremen.

He was later taken home by his brother, who soon after
placed him at the University of Hintelin, belonging to Hesse,
where he pursued his studies from the year 1756 till the middle of
the year 1758. During this time he improved his knowledge in the
Latin and Greek classics to an uncommon degree; he also acquired
very considerable skill in Hebrew, and became greatly proficient in
both vocal and instrumental music, dancing, fencing and other
polite accomplishments. About this time, the French having made
an irruption into Hesse, and impoverished the inhabitants by
raising exorbitant contributions, his brother was no longer able to
support him, and therefore sent him to England, with very strong
recommendations, to a friend, who received him kindly, and
promised to procure him an appointment that should be agreeable
to his friends; but as no opportunity immediately presented itself,
he offered himself as an assistant to Mr Crawford, who kept a
school in Cross Street, Hatton Garden, and was received, upon the
recommendation of the Rev. Mr Planta, who had himself lived
with Mr Crawford in that station, and left him upon his having
obtained a place in the Museum. It was also proposed that he
should assist the German minister at the Chapel in the Savoy,
where he preached several probationary discourses; but as he made
use of notes he was not approved by his auditors.

While he lived with Mr Crawford he became acquainted
with Mr Matthews, a surgeon in the neighbourhood, who
advertised the cure of fistulas, and other disorders of the like kind,
and who made him a proposal to come and live with him, offering
him an apartment ready furnished, and his board, upon condition
that he should teach Mrs Matthews and her daughter music, and
Matthews himself the classics. Stirn accepted Matthews's proposal,
and took possession of his apartment at his house. A very little
time, however, was sufficient to show that they could not long
continue together. Stirn's pride and his situation in life concurred to
render him so jealous of indignity, and so ingenious in discovering
oblique reproach and insult in the behaviour of those about him,
that, finding one evening, after he came home, some pieces of
bread in the dining-room, which had been left there by a child of
the family, he immediately took it into his head that they were left
there as reproachful emblems of his poverty, which obliged him to
subsist on the fragments of charity. This thought set him on fire in
a moment, and he ran furiously upstairs and, knocking loudly and
suddenly at Mr Matthews's chamber door, called out: "Mr
Matthews!" He was answered by Mrs Matthews, who was in bed,
that Mr Matthews was not there. But he still clamorously insisted
on the door being opened, so that Mrs Matthews was obliged to
rise, and, having put on her clothes, she came out and asked him
what he wanted and what he meant by such behaviour. He
answered that he wanted Mr Matthews, and that he knew he was in
the room. It happened that at this instant Mr Matthews knocked at
the street door, and this put an end to the dispute with his wife. The
moment Mr Matthews entered the house, Stirn, in a furious
manner, charged him with an intention to affront him by the crusts.
Mr Matthews assured him that he meant no such thing, and that the
bread was carried thither by the child. Mrs Matthews also
confirmed it, and Stirn was at length pacified. He seems to have
been conscious of the strange impropriety of his conduct as soon as
he had time for reflection; for the next morning he went to Mr
Crawford and expressed a most grateful sense of Mr and Mrs
Matthews's patience and kindness in suffering, and passing over
his fantastic behaviour.

It is, however, probable that from this time they began to
live together upon very ill terms. Matthews soon after gave him
warning to quit his house, and Stirn refused to go. Eventually he
went to the Pewter Platter, in Cross Street, Hatton Garden, where
Matthews and other persons in the neighbourhood frequently met
to spend the evening. Stirn, after some time, applying mself to Mr
Matthews, said: "Sir, you have accused me of theft and adultery."
Matthews denied the charge, and after some mutual reproaches
called him a dirty fellow, and said he ought to be sent into his own
lousy country. Stirn, after this, took two or three turns about the
room, and then, drawing out two pistols, discharged one of them at
Matthews's breast, who gave a sudden start and then, falling
forward, died instantly, without a groan. Stirn, almost at the same
moment, discharged the other at himself; but, by some accident,
the ball missed him, without doing any other damage. As soon as
the smoke was dissipated, and the company had recovered from
their first astonishment and confusion, Stirn was seen standing, as
it were, torpid with amazement and horror. As soon as he saw the
attention of all that were in the room turned upon him he seemed to
recollect himself, and made towards the door; but a person in the
room, named Warford, seized him, and after some struggle pulled
him to the ground. Another man, named Lowther, immediately
went up to him, and Stirn cried out: "Shoot me! shoot me! shoot
me! for I shall be hanged." Somebody then saying, "Matthews is
dead," Stirn replied, "I am not sorry, but I am sorry that I did not
shoot myself."

After his commitment he obstinately refused all kinds of
food, with the view of starving himself, that he might avoid the
infamy of a public death by the hands of the executioner. He
persisted in this abstinence till the Friday following, the 22nd of
August, being just a week, drinking only a dish or two of coffee
and a little wine. This conduct he endeavoured to justify, by saying
that his life was forfeited by the law of both God and man, and that
it was not lawful even for the Government to pardon him; "and
what does it signify," says he, "by whose hands this forfeit is
paid?" The ordinary indeed told him, in answer to this argument,
that his life was not in his own power, and that as he did not, and
could not, give it to himself, so neither had he a right to take it
away. He was, however, urged to eat, for he was told that he would
incur more infamy by suicide than by hanging, as his body would
be dragged like that of a brute to a hole dug to receive it in a cross-
road, and a stake would be afterwards driven through it, which
would remain as a monument of disgrace.

During his trial, which lasted about four hours, he was
often ready to faint; he was therefore indulged with a seat, and
several refreshments. When sentence was passed upon him he
quite fainted away, but being recovered by the application of
spirits he requested the Court that he might be permitted to go to
the place of execution in the coach with the clergyman; upon
which the Court told him that was in the sheriff's breast, but that
such a favour, if granted, would be contrary to the intention of the
law which had lately been made to distinguish murders by
exemplary punishment. Upon that he made a profound reverence to
the Court, and was taken back to prison.

About six o'clock, the same evening, he was visited by the
ordinary, who found in the press-yard a German, who said he was
a minister, whom Stirn had desired might attend him. The ordinary
therefore took him up to Stirn's chamber, he having been removed
from the cells by the assistance of some friends. They found him
lying on his bed; and as he expressed great uneasiness at the
presence of the ordinary and a prisoner who had been set over him
as a guard, they withdrew and left him alone with his countryman.
Soon after this an alarm was given that Stirn was extremely ill, and
was supposed to have taken poison. He was immediately visited by
the sheriff and Mr Akerman, the keeper of the prison, who found
him in a state of stupefaction, but not yet convulsed. A surgeon
was procured, and several methods were tried to discharge his
stomach of the poison, but without effect; he was then let blood,
which apparently rendered him worse.

About nine o'clock he was pale and speechless; his jaw had
fallen, and his eyes were fixed; and about five minutes before
eleven he expired.



PATRICK M'CARTY
Executed at the bottom of Bow Street, Covent Garden,
Westminster, 24th of October, 1760, for Murder

HAD this malefactor's execution been deferred but one
single day, he might, in all probability, have survived many years,
as the day after, early in the morning, King George II died, and the
succeeding monarch, in order that all might with joy hail his
accession, according to ancient custom granted a general amnesty
and pardon to criminals.

A Marshalsea writ having been issued against M'Carty, an
officer of that court, of the name of William Talbot, was employed
to execute the warrant granted thereon. He met the defendant near
Drury Lane, and told him that he had a warrant against him, to
which M'Carty asked: "At whose suit?" Being informed, he
requested the officer to step with him into the King's Head public-
house, at the corner of Prince's Street. They had not been many
minutes in the house when, without any harsh words having passed
between them, M'Carty suddenly drew from his pocket a large
knife, stabbed the officer to the heart, and then ran off. He was,
however, pursued, and taken by a soldier in Vere Street, Clare
Market, and carried before Sir John Fielding, who committed him
to Newgate.

At the next sessions he was convicted of this
wantonmurder, and executed at the time and place above
mentioned.



THEODORE GARDELLE
An Artist, who was executed in the Haymarket, 4th of April, 1761,
for murdering a Woman

This was a murder which also considerably engaged the
public mind. Though in the commission of the act itself, there may
be some extenuation afforded to the unhappy man; yet the means
he took to conceal it, are attended with circumstances horrible to
relate. We have to lament that the woman might not have met her
death at his hands, had she allotted some discretion to the limits of
her tongue -- a weapon, we may call it, often goading a man to a
frenzy of the mind, ending in horror.

Theodore Gardelle was a foreigner, a man of education and
talents in his profession -- the fine art of painting. That he was not
a man of a bad disposition, or given to irregularities, appears from
Mrs. King's receiving him back as an inmate, after he had once
quitted her lodgings.

He was born at Geneva, a city which is famed for giving
birth to great men, in both the arts and sciences. He chose the
miniature style of painting, and having acquired its first rudiments,
went to Paris, where he made great proficiency in the art. He then
returned to his native place, and practised his profession for some
years, with credit and emolument; but, being unhappy in his
domestic concerns, he repaired to London, and took lodgings at
Mrs. King's, in Leicester-fields, in the year 1760.

Some time afterwards, for the benefit of purer air, he
removed to Knightsbridge, but finding that place too far from his
business, he returned to his former residence, where he was
pursuing his business until the fatal cause arose, which brought
him to an ignominious death.

The particulars of this shocking transaction, we have
collected, partly from evidence adduced on his trial, and partly
from the repentant confession of the malefactor.

On Thursday the 19th of February, 1761, in the morning,
the maid got up about seven o'clock and opened the fore parlour
windows. There is a fore parlour and a back parlour; both have a
door into the passage from the street-door, and there is also a door
that goes out of one into the other: the back parlour was Mrs.
King's bed-chamber, and the door which entered it from the
passage was secured on the inside by a drop-bolt, and could not be
opened on the outside when locked, though the drop-bolt was not
down, because on the outside there was no key-hole. The door into
the fore parlour was also secured on the inside by Mrs. King when
she went to bed, and the door of the fore parlour into the passage
was left open; when the maid had entered the fore parlour by this
door, and opened the windows, she went to the passage door of the
back parlour where Mrs. King was in bed, and knocked, in order to
get the key of the street-door, which Mrs. King took at night into
her room. Mrs. King drew up the bolt, and the maid went in; she
took the key of the street-door which she saw lie upon the table by
a looking-glass; and her mistress then shut the passage door and
dropped the bolt, and ordered the maid to open the door that
communicated with the fore parlour, which she did, and went out;
she then kindled the fire in the fore parlour that it might be ready
when her mistress arose, and about eight o'clock went up into
Gardelle's room, where she found him in a red and green night-
gown at work. He gave her two letters, a snuff-box, and a guinea,
and desired her to deliver the letters, one of which was directed to
one Mozier in the Haymarket, and the other to a person who kept a
snuff-shop at the next door, and to bring him from thence a
pennyworth of snuff.

The girl took the messages, and went again to her mistress,
telling her what Gardelle had desired her to do, to which her
mistress replied, "Nanny, you can't go, for here is nobody to
answer at the street-door;" the girl being willing to oblige Gardelle,
or being for some reason desirous to go out, answered, "that Mr.
Gardelle would come down and sit in the parlour till she came
back." She then went again to Gardelle, and told him what
objection her mistress had made, and what she had said to remove
it. Gardelle then said he would come down, as she had proposed,
and he did come down accordingly.

The girl immediately went on his errand, and left him in the
parlour, shutting the street-door after her, and taking the key to let
herself in when she came back.

Immediately after the girl was gone out, Mrs. King hearing
the tread of somebody in the parlour, called out, "Who is there?"
and at the same time opened her chamber door. Gardelle was at a
table, very near the door, having just then taken up a book that lay
upon it, which happened to be a French grammar; he had some
time before drawn Mr. King's picture, which she wanted to have
made very handsome, and had teased him so much about it, that
the effect was just contrary. It happened unfortunately that the first
thing she said to him, when she saw it was he whom she had heard
walking about in the room, was something reproachful about this
picture: Gardelle was provoked at the insult; and as he spoke
English very imperfectly, he, for want of a less improper
expression, told her, with some warmth, "That she was an
impertinent woman." This threw her into a transport of rage, and
she gave him a violent blow with her fist on the breast, so violent,
that he says he could not have thought such a blow could have
been given by a woman; as soon as the blow was struck, she drew
a little back, and at the same instant, he says, he laid his hand on
her shoulder and pushed her from him, rather in contempt than
anger, or with a design to hurt her; but her foot happening to catch
in the floor-cloth, she fell backwards, and her head came with great
force against the corner of the bedstead; the blood immediately 
gushed from her mouth, not in a continued stream, but as if by
different strokes of a pump; he instantly ran to her and stooped to
raise her, expressing his concern at the accident; but she pushed
him away, and threatened, though in a feeble and interrupted voice,
to punish him for what he had done; he was, he says, terrified
exceedingly at the thought of being condemned for a criminal act
upon her accusation, and again attempted to assist her by raising
her up, as the blood still gushed from her mouth in great quantities;
but she still exerted all her strength to keep him off, and still cried
out, mixing threats with her screams; he then seized an ivory comb
with a sharp taper point continued from the back, for adjusting the
curls of her hair, which lay upon her toilet, and threatened her in
his turn to prevent her crying out; but she still continued to cry out,
though with a voice still fainter and fainter, he struck her with this
instrument, probably in the throat, upon which the blood flowed
from her mouth in yet greater quantities, and her voice was quite
stopped: he then drew the bed-clothes over her, to prevent her
blood from spreading on the floor, and to hide her from his sight;
he stood, he says, some time motionless by her, and then fell down
by her side in a swoon. When he came to himself, he perceived the
maid was come in; he therefore went out of the room without
examining the body to see if the unhappy wretch was quite dead,
and his confusion was then so great, that he staggered against the
wainscot, and hit his head, so as to raise a bump over his eye. As
no person was in the house but the murdered and the murderer
while the fact was committed, nothing can be known about it but
from Gardelle's own account; the circumstances related above,
contain the sense of what he related both in his defence, and in the
account which he drew up in French to leave behind him, taken
together as far as they are consistent; for there are in both several
inconsistencies and absurdities, which give reason to suspect they
are not true.

But however that be, all was quiet when the maid returned,
which, she says, was in a quarter of an hour. She went first into the
parlour where Gardelle had promised to wait till she came back,
and saw nobody. She had paid three shillings and ninepence out of
the guinea at the snuff-shop, where she delivered one of the letters;
to the other she had no answer; and she laid the change and the
snuff-box with the snuff she had fetched in it upon the table; then
she went up into Gardelle's room and found nobody, and by turns
she went into every room in the house, except her mistress's
chamber, whither she never went, but when called, and found
nobody. She then made some water boil in the kitchen, made a bit
of toast, and sat down to breakfast. In a short time she heard
somebody walk over head in the parlour, or passage, and go up
stairs, but did not go to see who it was. When she had breakfasted
she went and stirred up the fire in the parlour against her mistress
got up, and perceived that the snuff and change had been taken
from the table; she then went up stairs again to Gardelle's room, to
clean and set it to rights as she used to do, and it was now between
ten and eleven o'clock. Soon after, Gardelle came down from the
garret into his bed-chamber, which somewhat surprised her, as he
could have no business that she knew of in the garret. When she
first saw him, which was about an hour afterwards, she says, he
looked confounded, and blushed exceedingly, and she perceived
the bump over his eye, which had a black patch upon it as big as a
shilling; he had also changed his dress, and had written another
letter with which he sent her into Great Suffolk Street, and ordered
her to wait for an answer; she went directly, and when she
returned, which was in a quarter of an hour, she found him sitting
in the parlour, and told him the gentleman would be there in the
evening. He then told her that a gentleman had been in the room
with her mistress, and that she was gone out with him in a hackney
coach. It appears, by this, that Gardelle knew the maid was
acquainted with his mistress's character. The maid, however,
though she might have believed this story at another time, could
not believe it now; she was not absent above a quarter of an hour;
she had left her mistress in bed, and the time would not have
permitted her receiving a gentleman there, her being dressed, a
coach being procured, and her having gone out in it; besides, when
she came back, she knew Gardelle was in her chamber. This gave
her some suspicion, but it was of nothing worse than that Gardelle
and her mistress had been in bed together. She went, however, and
looked at the door of the chamber, which opened into the parlour,
and which she had opened by her mistress's order, and found it
again locked. About one o'clock another lodger, Mr. Wright's
servant, Thomas Pelsey, came and told the maid at the door that
the beds must be got ready, because his master intended to come
hither in the evening, but did not go in. The maid still wondered
that her mistress did not rise; and supposed that, knowing she came
in from her errand while Gardelle was yet in her chamber, she was
ashamed to see her. Gardelle, in the mean time, was often up and
down stairs; and about three o'clock he sent her with a letter to one
Broshet, at the Eagle and Pearl in Suffolk Street. As he knew that it
would be extremely difficult to conceal the murder, if the maid
continued in the house, he determined that he would, if possible,
discharge her: but as the girl could not write, and as he was not
sufficiently acquainted with our language to draw a proper receipt,
he requested Mr. Broshet, in this letter, to write a receipt for him,
and get the maid to sign it, directing her to deliver it to him when
he paid her; he did not, however, acquaint her with his design.
When Mr. Broshet had read the letter, he asked her if she knew
that Mr. Gardelle was to discharge her; she said no. Why, says he,
Mrs. King is gone out, and has given Mr. Gardelle orders to
discharge you; for she is to bring a woman home with her: at this
the girl was surprised, and smiled, telling Broshet, that she knew
her mistress was at home. The girl was now confirmed in her first
thought, that her mistress was ashamed to see her again; and thus
she accounted for the manner of her dismissal. She returned
between three and four to Gardelle, whom she found sitting in the
parlour with a gentleman whose name she did not know: she
continued in the house till between six and seven o'clock in the
evening, and then Gardelle paid her six shillings for a fortnight and
two days wages, and gave her five or six shillings over, upon
which she delivered him the receipt that Broshet had written, took
her box and went away. As she was going out, Mr. Wright's
servant came again to the door, and she told him that she was
discharged and going away; that her mistress had been all day in
her bed-room, without either victuals or drink, and that if he stayed
a little after she was gone, be might see her come out: the man,
however, could not stay, and Gardelle about seven o'clock was
thus left alone in the house.

The first thing he did was to go into the chamber to the
body, which upon examination, he found quite dead; he therefore
took off the blankets and sheets with which he had covered it,
stripped off the shift, and laid the body quite naked upon the bed;
before this, he said, his linen was not stained; but it was much
stained by his removing the body. He then took the two blankets,
the sheets, the coverlet, and one of the curtains, and put them into
the water-tub in the back wash-house, to soak, they being all much
stained with blood; her shift he carried upstairs, and putting it in a
bag, concealed it under his bed; his own shirt, now bloody, he
pulled off, and locked it up in a drawer of his bureau.

When all this was done, he went and sat down in the
parlour, and soon after, it being about nine o'clock, Mr. Wright's
servant came in without his master, who had changed his mind,
and was gone to a gentleman's house in Castle Street. He went up
into his room, the garret, and sat there till about seven o'clock: then
he came down, and finding Gardelle still in the parlour, he asked if
Mrs. King was come home, and who must sit up for her? Gardelle
said she was not come home, but that he would sit up for her.

In the morning, Friday, when Pelsey came down stairs, he
again asked if Mrs. King was come home, and Gardelle told him
that she had been at home, but was gone again. He then asked how
he came by the hurt on his eye; and be said he got it by cutting
some wood to light the fire in the morning. Pelsey then went about
his master's business, and at night was again let in by Gardelle,
who, upon being asked, said he would sit up for Mrs. King that
night also.

In the morning, Saturday, Pelsey enquired again after Mrs.
King; and Gardelle, though he had professed to sit up for her but
the night before, now told him she was gone to Bath or Bristol; yet,
strange as it may seem, no suspicions of murder appear yet to have
been conceived.

On Saturday, Mozier, an acquaintance of Gardelle's, who
had been also intimate with Mrs. King, and had spent the evening
with her the Wednesday before the murder, came by appointment
about two or three o'clock, having promised to go with her that
evening to the opera. He was let in by Gardelle, who told him that
Mrs. King was gone to Bath or Bristol, as he had told Pelsey. This
man, and another of Gardelle's acquaintance, observing him to be
chagrined and dispirited, seem to have imagined that Mrs. King's
absence was the cause of it, and that if they could get him another
girl they should cure him: they therefore were kind enough to
procure for him on this occasion; and having picked up a prostitute
in the Hay-market, they brought her that very Saturday to Gardelle
at Mrs. King's. The worthy, whose name is not known, told her
Mrs. King was gone into the country, and had discharged her
servant. Gardelle made an apology for the confusion in which the
house appeared, and Mozier or Muzard, as he is sometimes called,
asked her if she would take care of the house: she readily
consented; and Gardelle acquiescing, they left her with him. He
asked her what her business was; she said she worked plain-work;
he then told her he had some shirts to mend, and that he would
satisfy her for her trouble.

All this while the body continued as he had left it on
Thursday night, nor had he once been into the room since that
time. But this night the woman and Pelsey being in bed, he first
conceived a design of concealing or destroying the dead body by
parts, and went down to put it in execution; but the woman, whose
name is Sarah Walker, getting out of bed and following him, he
returned up stairs, and went to bed with her. In the morning,
Sunday, he arose between seven and eight, and left Walker in bed,
saying, it was too soon for her to rise; she fell asleep, and slept till
ten; it is probable that in the mean time be was employed on the
body, for when she came down between ten and eleven, he was but
beginning to light the parlour-fire. He had spoke to her the night
before to get him a chair-woman, and he was in so much confusion
he did not ask her to stay to breakfast; she went out therefore and
hired one Pritchard as a chair-woman, at one shilling a day,
victuals and drink: in the afternoon she brought Pritchard to the
house, and found with Gardelle two or three men and two women;
Gardelle went up with her and stayed by her while she made his
bed, then the company all went out together. The chair-woman
kept house, and about ten o'clock they returned and supped in
Gardelle's room. She was then dismissed for the night, and ordered
to come the next morning at eight. The next morning, Monday, the
chair-woman was ordered to tell Pelsey the footman, that Walker
was a relation of Mrs. King's, who was come to be in the house till
Mrs. King returned; but Pelsey knew that she and Gardelle had but
one bed, for when he came down on Monday morning, Gardelle's
chamber-door stood open, and looking in, he saw some of her
clothes. On Monday night he again enquired after Mrs. King, and
Gardelle told him she was at Bath or Bristol, he knew not where;
he differed at times in his account of her, yet no suspicion of
murder was yet entertained. On Tuesday morning, Pelsey, who was
going up to his master's room, smelt an offensive smell, and asked
Gardelle, who was shoving up the sash of the window on the
staircase, what it was; Gardelle replied, somebody had put a bone
in the fire: the truth, however, was, that while Walker was
employed in mending and making some linen in the pamlour, he
had been burning some of Mrs. King's bones in the garret. At
night, Pelsey renewed his enquiries after Mrs. King, and Gardelle
answered with a seeming impatience, "Me know not of Mrs. King;
she give me a great deal of trouble, but me shall hear of her
Wednesday or Thursday;" yet he still talked of sitting up for her,
and all this while nobody seems to have suspected a murder.

On Tuesday night he told Mrs. Walker he would sit up till
Mrs. King came home, though he had before told her she was out
of town, and desired her to go to bed, to which she consented; as
soon as she was in bed, he renewed his horrid employment of
cutting the body to pieces, and disposing of it in different places;
the bowels be threw down the necessary, and the flesh of the body
and limbs cut to pieces, he scattered about the cock-loft, where he
supposed they would dry and perish without putrefaction: about
two o'clock in the morning, however, he was interrupted, for
Walker having waked, and not finding him, she went down stairs,
and found him standing upon the stairs; he then, at her solicitation,
went up with her to bed.

Wednesday passed like the preceding days, and on
Thursday he told his female companion, that he expected Mrs.
King home in the evening, and therefore desired that she would
provide herself a lodging; giving her, at the same time, two of Mrs.
King's shifts, and being thus dismissed she went away.

Pritchard, the chair-woman, still continued in her office.
The water having failed in the cistern on the Tuesday, she had
recourse to that in the water-tub in the back kitchen; upon pulling
out the spiggot a little water run out, but as there appeared to be
more in, she got upon a ledge, and putting her hand in she felt
something soft; she then fetched a poker, and pressing down the
contents of the tub, she got water in a pall. This circumstance she
told Pelsey, and they agreed the first opportunity to see what the
things in the water-tub were; yet so languid was their curiosity, and
so careless were they of the event, that it was Thursday before this
tub was examined: they found in it the blankets, sheets, and
coverlet that Gardelle had put in it to soak: after spreading,
shaking, and looking at them, they put them again into the tub; and
the next morning when Pelsey came down, he saw the curtain
hanging on the banisters of the kitchen-stairs; upon looking down,
he saw Gardelle just come out at the wash-house door, where the
tub stood. When Pritchard the chair-woman came, he asked her if
she had been taking any of the clothes out of the tub, and she said
no, she then went and looked in the tub, and found the sheets had
been wrung out. Upon this the first step was taken towards
enquiring after the unhappy woman, who had now laid dead more
than a week in the house. Pelsey found out the maid whom
Gardelle had dismissed, and asked her if she had put any bed-
clothes into the water; she said, no, and seemed frightened; Pelsey
was then also alarmed and told his master.

These particulars also came to the knowledge of Mr.
Barron, an apothecary in the neighbourhood, who went the same
day to Mrs. King's house, and enquired of Gardelle where she was.
He trembled, and told him, with great confusion, that she was gone
to Bath. The next day, therefore, Saturday, he carried the maid
before Mr. Fielding, the justice, to make her deposition, and
obtained a warrant to take Gardelle into custody. When the warrant
was obtained, Mr. Barron, with the constable, and some others,
went to the house, where they found Gardelle, and charged him
with the murder; he denied it, but soon after dropped down in a
swoon. When he recovered, they demanded the key of Mrs. King's
chamber; but he said she had got it with her in the country; the
constable therefore got in at the window, and opened the door that
communicated with the parlour, and they all went in. They found
upon the bed a pair of blankets wet, and a pair of sheets that
appeared not to have been lain in; and the curtain also which
Pelsey and the chair-woman had seen first in the water-tub, and
then on the banisters, was found put up in its place wet. Upon
taking off the clothes, the bed appeared bloody, the blankets also
were bloody, and marks of blood appeared in other places; having
taken his keys, they went up into his room, where they found the
bloody shift and shirt.

The prisoner, with all these tokens of his guilt, was then
carried before Fielding, and though he stiffly denied the fact, was
committed. On the Monday, a carpenter and bricklayer were sent
to search the house for the body, and Mr. Barron went with them.
In the necessary they found what he calls the contents of the
bowels of a human body, but what were certainly the bowels
themselves; and in the cock-loft they found one of the breasts,
some other muscular parts, and some bones. They perceived also
that there had been a fire in the garret, and some fragments of
bones, half consumed, were found in the chimney, so large as to be
known to be human. On the Thursday before, he had carried an
oval chip-box to one Perronneau, a painter in enamel, who had
employed him in copying, and pretending it contained colours of
great value, desired him to keep it, saying he was uneasy to leave it
at Mrs. King's while she was absent at Bath. Perronneau, when he
heard Gardelle was taken up, opened the box, and found in it a
gold watch and chain, a pair of bracelets, and a pair of ear-rings,
which were known to be Mrs. King's. To this force of evidence
Gardelle at length gave way, and confessed the fact, but signed no
confession. He was sent to New Prison, where he attempted to
destroy himself by swallowing some opium, which he had kept
several days by him as a remedy for the tooth-ach. He took at one
dose 40 grains, which was so far from answering his purpose, that
it did not procure him sleep; though he declared he had not slept
once since the commission of the fact, nor did he sleep for more
than a fort night after this time. When he found the opium did not
produce the effect he desired, he swallowed half-pence to the
number of twelve; but neither did these bring on any fatal
symptom, whatever pain or disorders they might cause; which is
remarkable, because verdigrese, the solution of copper, is a very
powerful and active poison, and the contents of the stomach would
act as a dissolvent upon them.

On the 2d of March he was brought to Newgate, and
diligently watched, to prevent any further attempts upon his life.
He shewed strong marks of penitence and contrition, and be haved
with great humility, openness, and courtesy to those who visited
him.

On Thursday, the 2d of April, he was tried at the Old
Bailey; and in his defence, he insisted only that he had no malice to
the deceased, and that her death was the consequence of a fall. He
was convicted, and sentenced to be executed on Saturday the 4th.
The account which he wrote in prison, and which is mentioned in
this narrative, is dated the 28th of March, though he did not
communicate it till after his trial. The night after his condemnation
his behaviour was extravagant and outrageous; yet the next
morning he was composed and quiet, and said he had slept three or
four hours in the night. When he was asked why he did not make
his escape, he answered, that he feared some innocent person
might then suffer in his stead. He declared he had no design to rob
Mrs. King, but that he removed some of the things merely to give
credit to the story of her journey to Bath; he declared too, that be
never had any sentiments of love or jealousy with respect to Mrs.
King; though it is evident, his friends, who prescribed for his
lowness of spirits, supposed that he had.

He affirmed, that he regarded the woman they brought him
with horror, but that he did not dare to refuse her, lest it should
produce new suspicions with respect to the cause of his uneasiness.
It is, however, certain, that he felt the ill effects of her company in
more ways than one to his last hour.

He was executed amidst the shouts and hisses of an
indignant populace, in the Haymarket, near Panton Street, to which
he was led by Mrs. King's house, where the cart made a stop, and
at which he just gave a look. His body was hanged in chains upon
Hounslow-heath.

One reflection, upon reading this dreadful narrative, will
probably rise in the mind of the attentive reader; the advantages of
virtue with respect to our social connections, and the interest that
others take in what befalls us. It does not appear that, during all the
time Mrs. King was missing, she was enquired after by one
relation or friend; the murder was discovered by strangers, almost
without solicitude or enquiry; the murderer was secured by
strangers, and by strangers the prosecution against him was carried
on.

But who is there of honest reputation, however poor, that
could be missing a day, without becoming the subject of many
interesting enquiries, without exciting solicitude and fears, that
would have no rest till the truth was discovered, and the crime
punished?



THOMAS ANDREWS
Convicted of an unnatural crime

THIS miserable wretch, who had formerly lived in good credit,
kept a public house at Pye Corner, near Smithfield, known by the
sign of the Fortune of War, where he had as much business as
enabled him to support his family in some degree of credit.

John Finnimore, a servant out of place, who had been acquainted
with Andrews when he (Finnimore) lived with Mrs. Mead, in Red
Lion Court, behind Saint Sepulchre's church, called on Andrews,
to inquire if he could help him to a service. Andrews's wife being
now out of town, he told Finnimore that he was welcome to sleep
at his house; hut the other declined it for that night, as Mrs. Mead
had given him permission to lodge at hers.

On the following day Finnimore went to Andrews's with an
acquaintance; and, after they had drank together, Finnmore hinted
that Mrs. Mead had not offered him a lodging for the second night;
on which Andrews told him that, as his wife was still out of town,
he was welcome to a share of his bed. Here upon Finnimore went 
away with his acquaintance, and returned about nine o'clock in the
evening.

There were at that time a considerable number of people in the
house; and when they were gone, which was not till near one
o'clock in the morning, Andrews locked the doors, and he and
Finnimore went to bed together.

What passed, or was presumed to pass, till daylight, it is
impossible to relate with any kind of regard to the laws of decency.

In the morning Andrews opened the door, and Finnimore, going
out without exchanging a word with him, went to his acquaintance,
whom he found at the George, in Leather Lane, looking after some
horses, which he drove, being coachman to a gentleman who put
up his cattle at that place.

The coachman asked Finnimore to carry a letter to Clapham; but
he said he could not go, and assigned such reasons as accounted
for his incapacity.

Hereupon the coachman advised Finnimore to have Andrews taken
into custody; and on the following day a warrant was procured for
this purpose; but, when the constable went to take Andrews into
custody, he charged him likewise with Finnimore, on which the
constable took charge of them both.

The constable conducted them to the Mansion-house; but the lord
mayor being absent, they were conveyed to the houses of two
aldermen, neither of whom happening to be at home, Finnimore
was lodged for that night in Bridewell, and Andrews in the
Compter.

On the following day they were carried before Sir Robert
Ladbroke, the sitting alderman at Guildhall, when Finnimore made
such a charge against Andrews that he was committed to Newgate.

At the ensuing sessions Andrews was brought to his trial at the Old
Bailey, when Finnimore gave such a clear account of the horrid
transaction that the jury did not hesitate to find the prisoner guilty,
and ho received sentence of death.

Notwithstanding this conviction on evidence the most complete
that the nature of such a case would allow, a conviction that left no
doubt of Andrews's guilt in the mind of the public, yet such interest
was made that he was indulged with a reprieve, and afterwards
obtained a full pardon.

Andrews was discharged from Newgate in the month of July,
1761.

What sort of interest it was that procured a pardon for this man, it
may be improper, because it could hardly be decent, to say. It is a
subject that the delicate pen scarcely knows how to touch: but
pardoned he was, to the astonishment of nine persons in ten who
knew any thing of the case.

The writer of this narrative was well acquainted with two of the
gentlemen that were of the jury that convicted Andrews; and he
has been repeatedly assured by them that the strength of the
evidence against him was such that no kind of doubt could remain
of him guilt. Let the rest he buried, as it ought to be in obscurity;
and we believe our readers will thank us that this obnoxious story
is one of the shortest in our collection.


THOMAS DANIELS,
Condemned for the supposed Murder of his wife but subsequently
pardoned, 1761

'O Death
Where art thou? -- Death! thou dread of guilt
Thou wish of innocence! affliction's friend
Tired Nature calls thee: come, in mercy, come,
And lay me pillow'd in eternal rest.'


THIS is an extraordinary hard case, and we think that every reader
must agree in opinion that the accused, so far from being guilty of
murder, had long submitted to the very worst kind of usage with
which a woman can possibly treat a husband.

The whole proof adduced against him was circumstantial; and we
hope no jury sitting upon the life of their fellow-creature will again
convict a man on such evidence.

That they erred in their judgment, or, at all events, that the Privy
Council of the realm differed from them in opinion, is evident,
from the unfortunate man immediately receiving the king's pardon.

But, that every one may form a judgment on the case, we shall
simply narrate the circumstances drawn from the different
publications of the day, including his own confession.

Thomas Daniels was a journeyman carpenter, and about the year
1757, at which time he worked with his father, he became
acquainted with Sarah Carridine, a very pretty girl, who was
servant at a public house; this girl he was very desirous to marry,
but his father and mother would not consent, because she had lived
in an alehouse. After consulting with the girl, and the girl's mother,
it was agreed they should live together without being married. The
mother, therefore, took a lodging for them, to which Daniels
removed. His father, however, soon found out what he had done,
upon which a quarrel ensued, and he determined to work with his
father no longer.

As he was going about seeking employment else where, he met
with some of his acquaintance, who had entered on board the
Britannia privateer, and they persuaded him to enter also.

When he went home, and told Carridine what he had done, she fell
into violent fits of crying, and was, with great difficulty, pacified,
by his telling her that the cruise was but for six months, that he
hoped he should make his fortune, and that he would marry her
when he came back, advising her, in the mean time, to go to
service.

In this situation she was naturally exposed to great danger. It is
probable that her grief was mixed with resentment; that she
considered herself as slighted and deserted; and that she doubted
whether he would return again, and, if he did, whether he, who
could so soon forsake her, would make good his engagement at the
same time, having been already debauched, she was not restrained
by the powerful motives from which women resist solicitations to
the first fault, and she was under every possible temptation to form
another connexion that was likely to be more certain and durable.

Under all these disadvantages she was seduced by one John Jones,
a founder, a wretch who had been the intimate acquaintance of
Daniels, and professed great friendship for him. This fellow
promised to marry her if Daniels did not return; that, if he did, he
would continue his kindness to her; and that, if he should die
himself, he would leave her all his goods, and all his interest in the
capital of a box-club, to which he belonged.

Not long after this connexion between Carridine and Jones,
Daniels came home, having been absent about eight months. As
soon as he came to London he went to Mr. Archer's, who kept the
White Bear, at the corner of Barbican, in Aldersgate Street, whom 
he called his master, and sent for his father and mother, with whom
he spent an agreeable evening. He then inquired of Mrs. Archer
after Carridine; and she referred him to Jones. Jones took him over
the water to an alehonse near the Bridge-foot, where he saw her. At
this time she lived with her mother, and Daniels took a lodging in
the same house with Jones, who, pretending great friendship for
them both, urged Daniels to marry, going every night with him to
spend the evening with the girl, and offering to give her away.
Daniels, without suspicion of so perfidious and base a conduct, fell
into the snare, and fixed upon a day; but, as our laws have laid a
tax upon marriage, which other states have encouraged by
pecuniary or honorary advantages, Daniels could not be married,
because he had not money enough to pay the fees. He would have
borrowed a guinea of his master, but his master refused; upon
which Jones urged him to raise it by pawning his watch: to this
Daniels consented, the watch was pawned for him by Jones
himself, and Daniels and Carridine were married.

Daniels, at first, lived in ready-furnished lodgings, till his wife's
mother persuaded him to live with her in Catherine-wheel Alley,
Whitechapel. While they lived here Daniels frequently found his
wife abroad when he came home from work, and when she did
come home she was generally in liquor. The mother excused both
her absence and her condition by saying she had been to see some
young women in Spitalfields, and that a very little matter got into
her head. It was not long, however, before Daniels found that she
kept company with Jones; and having once followed them to an
alehouse, when the mother pretended she was gone to see the
young women in Spitalfields, he went to them, and, after some
words, sent his wife home. She was then drunk, and, when he went
home to her, a violent quarrel ensued, during which the wife and
the mother both fell upon him; and the wife afterwards ran out of
the house, and was absent all night.

Next day, however, Daniels was persuaded to make it up; and soon
after put her into a little shop in the Minories, to sell pork and
greens, and other articles. She promised to mind her business, and
never go into Jones's company more.

On the next Lord Mayor's Day Daniels attended his master to the
hall of his company, and, his master having given him a bottle of
wine, he went into the kitchen, and got some bread and meat. He
would not, however, touch either the wine or the victuals there, but
brought both home, pleasing himself with the thought of enjoying
them quietly with his wife. When he came home his wife was out,
and soon after he found her and Jones together upon the stairs,
Jones having taken the opportunity of Daniels's absence to supply
his place, not suspecting that he would leave the good cheer of the
hall, and come home so early.

This caused a great quarrel, and Daniels would suffer his wife to
keep shop no longer; he also removed from her mother's, and,
having got a few goods of his own, took a room in the Little
Minories. Here they lived somewhat more quiet for a little while;
but, the wife falling again into irregularities, Daniels entered a
second time on board the Britannia privateer, as carpenter's mate,
and, without acquainting any body with what he had done, went
down to the ship at Greenhithe; but in a few days, to his great
surprise, he was visited on board by his wife, in company with
Jones: they staid on board all night, and, she lamenting and
behaving like a mad woman, he was at length persuaded to return
home with her.

Soon after he took a house, the corner of Hare Court, Aldersgate
Street, and put his wife once more into a shop; but she soon
returned to her old ways, kept company with Jones and several
other people, and at length ran away and left him.

Notwithstanding this conduct he was persuaded to receive her
again, though she acknowledged her criminal intimacy with Jones,
upon her promise of amendment; yet she not only contracted other
intimacies of an infamous kind, but, when Daniels came home to
his meals, she would be abroad, with the key of their room in her
pocket, so that he was obliged to eat at an alehouse.

Notwithstanding all this Daniels seems to have had a strong
attachment to her, and to have done every thing in his power to
please her, that she might make his home agreeable, and was
solicitous to the last to unite his pleasure with hers, in which he
was constantly disappointed. The following instance, among many
others, is a remarkable representation of his conduct and her
character.

One Sunday, with a view to entertain her, he took her down to
Ilford, that they might spend the day agreeably together: they dined
at the White Horse there, and after dinner she drank freely. When
the reckoning came to be paid she flew into a rage with the
landlord, and, upon Daniels endeavouring to moderate matters, she
turned all her resentment upon him, and carried it to such a degree,
that she declared she would not go home with him, but would go
with the first person that asked her, or even with the next man that
went by. This threat, extravagant as it was, she made good; for a
person, dressed like an officer, stopping in a chaise at the door, she
asked him to let her ride home with him: he consented, and away
they went.

Daniels, though he had offered his wife a place in the stage, now
walked home by himself; and, having sat up for his wife till it was
very late, he at length gave her over, and went to bed. About two in
the morning he was roused by a violent knocking at his door,
where he found his wife so drunk that she could not stand, attended
by her mother; and he quietly let her in, with the mother, whose
assistance was absolutely necessary to put her to bed.

The account of what happened immediately before the accident
that put an end to her life, and of that accident itself, is added in his
own words, the truth of which he has attested upon oath, before a
magistrate, since his pardon:--

'The night before this melancholy accident happened, I came
home, to be sure, not entirely sober where, not finding my wife, I
went directly to her mother's, where I found her very drunk. It
being night, her mother said it was not proper to take her home in
that condition, and therefore advised me to lie there that night,
while she and her girl would go and sleep at my lodging. We did
so.

'In the morning, after my wife's mother came back, we all
breakfasted together at her lodgings. After breakfast I went to Mr.
Clarke, timber-merchant, in St. Mary Axe, to solicit for some India
Company's work; from whence I went to the Mansion House
alehouse, and drank a pint of beer. I then intended to go to work at
Mr. Perry's, in Noble Street; but, it being near dinner-time, I
stopped at the Bell, opposite his house, for another pint of beer,
where, meeting some acquaintance eating beef-steaks, I dined with
them. As I was eating, in came my wife and her mother: she at first
abused me for being at the alehouse, but they afterwards, with
great seeming good humour, drank with me, and, as they wanted
money, I gave my wife two shillings, and lent her mother a six-
and-ninepenny piece, which I had just received in change for half a
guinea, from the master of the public house. As the day was now
far spent, and as I was pleased with the prospect of working for the
East India Company, I thought it not worth while to begin a day's
work so late: I therefore went to Smithfield, to see how the horse-
market went; from thence I went to Warwick Lane, to see for a
young man whom I had promised to get to work for the Company
also. I took him to Mr. Clarke, in St. Mary Axe, and afterward
went with him to two or three places more; the last place was the
Nag's Head, in Houndsditch and about half an hour after nine
o'clock went home.

'When I came there I went in at the back door, which is under the
gateway, and which used to be only on a single latch for the
conveniency of my lodgers. I went up to my room-door: but,
finding it fast, came downstairs again.

'There was then some disturbance over the way, in Aldersgate
Street, which I walked over to see the meaning of, imagining my
wife might chance to be engaged in it. Not finding her in the
crowd, I returned, and went upstairs again: while I was on the
stairs I heard my wife cough, by which I knew she was at home.
Finding my door still fast, I knocked and called again; still she
would not answer: I then said "Sally, I know you are at home, and
I desire you will open the door; if you will not I will burst it open."
Nobody yet answering, I set my shoulder against the door, and
forced it open; upon this she jumped out of bed. I immediately
began to undress me, by slipping off my coat and waistcoat,
saying, at the same time, "Sally, what makes you use me so? you
follow me wherever I go, to abuse me, and then lock me out of my
lodging; I never served you so." On this she flew upon me, called
me a scoundrel dog, said she supposed I had been with some of my
whores, and, so saying, tore my shirt down from the bosom: on this
I pushed her down; she then ran to the chimney-corner, and
snatched up several things, which I successively wrested from her,
and in the scuffle a table and a screen fell down. At length she
struck me several blows with a hand-brush; and, while I was,
struggling to get it from her, she cried out several times "Indeed,
indeed, I will do so no more." When I got the brush from her,
which I did with some difficulty, I gave her a blow with it, and
then concluded she would be easy. She sat down on the floor, by
the cupboard door, tearing her shift from her back, which had been
rent in the skirmish: I sat down on the opposite side of the bed,
with my back towards her, preparing to go into it; and, seeing her
fling the remnants of her shift about in so mad a manner, I said
"Sally, you are a silly girl; why don't you be easy?" On that she
suddenly rose up, and with something gave me a blow on the head,
which struck me down: I fell on the bedstead with my head against
the folding doors of it. I imagined she was then afraid she had
killed me, for I heard her cry, two or three times, " 0 save me, save
me!" how she went out of the window it is impossible for we to
say, in the condition she left me in; but, from her cries, I supposed
her gone that way; and in my consternation, when I arose, I ran
down one pair of stairs, where, not knowing how to behave, I went
up again, and sat me down on the bed from whence I rose. In this
position Mr. Clarke, the constable, and the numbers who followed
him, found me. He said "Daniels, you have stabbed your wife, and
flung her out at the window." I replied "No, Mr. Clarke, I have not;
she threw herself out."

'Mr. Clarke took a candle, and examined all the room in search of
blood, but found none; and luckily it was for me that neither of our
noses happened to bleed in the fray, though mine was subject to do
so on any trifling occasion.

'He then went to the window, where he found a piece of a saucer,
and asked me what it was. I told him I did not know, but
recollected afterwards that it was what I fed my squirrel in; though
I knew not how it came broke; it was whole that day.

'From thence I was taken to the Compter; and the public arc
already acquainted with the proceedings on my trial, when I was
condemned for the supposed fact, September the 21st, 1761.

'I am informed that the next morning they found a pair of small
pliers, bloody, in the window, which were then considered as a
proof of my guilt. These pliers were what I have mended my
squirrel's chain with whenever he broke loose, which was
sometimes the case. How they should be bloody, as God is my
Saviour, I cannot answer; but, as no wound was perceived on the
body, they were not produced as evidence against me. however,
when my wife was brought up from the street, it is said she was
blooded, and that the basin was put in the window where these
pliers were found. It is therefore possible that, in such confusion, a
drop or two might accidentally be spilled upon them, more
especially when we consider the tumult of a morning's exhibition
of a dead body, for penny gratuities, by the unprincipled mother of
it.'

The following judicious remarks are added by the person who
assisted Daniels in publishing his case, and they seem to confirm
the man's declaration of his innocence beyond the possibility of
doubt.

The window of Daniels's room has two casements folding against
each other, with garden-pots before them. One of these casements
only used to be opened, the other being in general kept shut. These
casements were each about sixteen or seventeen inches wide, and
the window was about a yard and a quarter high. When this
accident happened one casement was open, the other shut, as usual;
consequently the opening then through the window was about
sixteen or seventeen inches wide, and a yard and a quarter high.
Through this space a man was to thrust a woman, nearly as strong
as himself! If such a thing had been attempted, the following
consequences must be incontestably allowed to ensue:

I. The woman would resist the attempt.

II. When persons struggle to avoid imminent danger, and are
driven to despair, they are capable of a surprising degree of
exertion, beyond their ordinary abilities.

III. This woman would therefore have continued in so narrow a
gap a very considerable while before she could have been forced
through, and would all that time have uttered cries, entreaties, and
exclamations, too expressive of her situation to have been mistaken
by the neighbours and spectators.

IV. Her resistance would have overturned the before-mentioned
garden-pots, and would have shattered the glass of the casement
that was shut and even forced open, or broke, the casement itself,
which obstructed her passage.

V. In breaking the glass of the window her skin must have been
greatly scratched and torn, and her limbs, naked as she was, have
been otherwise greatly maimed and bruised.

VI. The man who undertook to force her out must have borne some
very conspicuous marks of his attempt.

The two first of these propositions will be universally granted.

The third is contradicted by all the evidence on the trial, who
unanimously agree that the moment the woman was seen she came
through the window, and was only then heard to use such
expressions, which Daniels accounts for better than any one else.

In reply to the fourth -- the pots were not discomposed nor the
window broken, except one pane; and it does not appear that even
that pane might not have been broken before.

in answer to the fifth -- the body, by the evidence of the surgeon,
did not appear to have received any other damage than the natural
consequences of so great a fall.

As to the last -- the man was not seen at the window at all; and, as
to any wounds or bruises sustained by him, the constable, when
asked whether he saw the blow on his head, which he affirmed to
be given him by his wife, declared he did not. But he was not
asked whether he looked for it; a question, it may be presumed, he
would have answered in the negative.

In such a situation, it is to be concluded, the poor fellow was little
heard, and less regarded, concerning whatever he might allege in
his own behalf.

A man may be stunned by a blow that might not perhaps exhibit
any remarkable appearance; and, had it been seen, his account of it
would have weighed but little.

It is not even probable, had he knocked this woman on the head
first, that he could have sent the body through the window so
completely as, either by fright or design, she accomplished it
herself. But that she came there living is past all doubt.

To conclude:-- the evidence against this unfortunate man was only
presumptive at most, and, upon clear scrutiny, is really productive 
of nothing; so that, as he was discharged by royal authority, so has
he also a just claim to an acquittal in the minds of all judicious and
candid people.





PETER PATTISON
Executed at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 5th of October, 1761, for being
concerned in a Riot at Hexham

THE King having, by proclamation, ordered the militia of
England to be embodied, and the deputy-lieutenants for the county
of Northumberland having advertised that on the 9th of March,
1761, they should meet at the town of Hexham, to ballot for
militiamen, a most dreadful riot ensued.

A vast body of colliers, called pitmen, from Newcastle,
rose, and, in a tumultuous manner, proceeded to Hexham, There
they set up a loud cry of "No Militia Laws!" and attacked a
detachment of the North York Militia, with clubs, stones, and such
other weapons as they could collect.

This enraged the soldiers to such a pitch that they fired
upon the mob for the space of ten minutes, and forty-two were
killed and forty-eight wounded. Of the militia, an ensign and two
privates were killed, and several wounded.

Above a score of the ringleaders of this dangerous
insurrection were secured, but we find accounts of the execution of
only one of them, Peter Pattison.



JOHN PERROTT
A Bankrupt, who refused to make Full Disclosures of his Effects,
and was executed in Smithfield, 11th of November, 1761

JOHN PERROTT was born at Newport Pagnell, in
Buckinghamshire, about sixty miles north of London, in the year
1723, being about thirty-eight years of age at his death. His father
died when he was seven years old, and his mother about two years
afterwards, leaving him a fortune of about fifteen hundred pounds.
After the death of his parents he was, by the direction of a
guardian, placed in the Foundation School of Gilsborough, in
Northamptonshire, where he continued five years. He was then,
being about fifteen years old, put apprentice to his half-brother at
Hampstead, in Hertfordshire, where he served out his time.

In the year 1747 he came up to London, and began to trade
for himself in foreign white lace, but kept no shop. In the
beginning of the year 1749 he took a house, and opened a
warehouse in Blowbladder Street. About the year 1752 he removed
from Blowbladder Street to Ludgate Hill, where he opened a
linendraper's shop, and dealt in various other articles, styling
himself "merchant." From the time of his opening this shop till the
year 1759 he returned annually about two thousand pounds, and
was remarkably punctual in his payments.

Having thus established his reputation, and finding that no
credit which he should ask would be refused him, he formed a
scheme of abusing this confidence, which he began to put into
execution by contracting for goods, of different sorts, to the value
of thirty thousand pounds, the greater part of which, amounting to
the value of twenty-five thousand pounds, he actually got into his
possession. In pursuance of his project it was necessary to convert
these goods into ready money as soon as possible; he therefore
employed one Henry Thompson (who had for three or four years
acted as his agent, or broker) to sell them for ready money.
Thompson, at this time, kept a little house in Monkwell Street, near
Wood Street, whither the goods were sent in the dusk of the
evening, and whither he invited some of the principal traders to
look at them, as goods consigned to him from the places where
they were manufactured. Perrott always set a price upon them,
which Thompson showed to his chapmen, who usually fixed
another price at which they would buy; at this price Thompson was
always ordered to sell, though it was frequently fifteen or twenty
per cent. below prime cost.

When he had thus converted the goods he obtained upon
credit into money, and before the time when he was to pay for
them arrived, he summoned his creditors together, who
accordingly met, on the 17th of January, 1760, at the Half Moon
tavern, in Cheapside, where he acquainted them that he was unable
to pay the whole of what he owed, referring himself entirely to
their pleasure, and promising to acquiesce in all such measures as
they should propose, to pursue their own benefit and security.

This conduct and these professions had so plausible an
appearance that Perrott's creditors conceived a favourable opinion
of him, notwithstanding the loss they were likely to suffer. It was
however determined that a commission of bankruptcy should be
sued out against him, and Perrott having agreed to cause himself to
be denied the next day to a person whom his creditors were to send
to demand money, as the common and most ready foundation of
commissions of bankruptcy, such a commission was issued against
him on the 19th of January, the second day after meeting, and
Perrott, being found and declared a bankrupt, surrendered himself
as such.

The 26th of the same month, the 4th of February and the
4th of March were appointed for his appearance before the
Commissioners, to make a full disclosure of his estate and effects.

But two of Perrott's creditors found, upon an inspection of
his accounts and affairs, such a deficiency and confusion as gave
them just reason to suspect his integrity. He was accordingly
summoned before the Commissioners on the 26th of February, and
then, being hard pressed, he acknowledged that he had bought
goods, since the year 1758, to the amount of twenty thousand
pounds, and sold them himself, or by Thompson, for ready money,
at fifteen or twenty per cent. under prime cost; and that, about five
years before, he hired a house in Hide Street, near Bloomsbury
Square, at thirty pounds per annum rent, and furnished it at the
expense of about a hundred and thirty pounds; that it was for a
lady, and that he lived in it for about a year and a half and then
quitted it, and sold the furniture. And he swore also that he had not
since that time any other house or lodging, or paid for the lodging
of any other person.

An examination which produced such proof of the
bankrupt's misconduct greatly increased the suspicions of his
creditors that more knavery was intended; and it appeared that,
though he had kept regular books from 1752 to 1757, yet at the end
of that time they were in some confusion, and afterwards in total
disorder. Neither were any traces to be discovered of accounts
between him and Thompson, notwithstanding the very large
transactions between them: which was another reasonable cause to
suspect fraudulent designs.

On the 19th of April, 1760, Perrott appeared before the
Commissioners, and exhibited, upon oath, an account of his
effects, which, after giving him credit for all the money he had
paid, and making him debtor for all the goods he had sold, from his
first entering into trade to his bankruptcy, left a deficiency of no
less than thirteen thousand, five hundred and thirteen pounds. He
was therefore required to declare upon oath what had become of
that sum, to which he replied that had he lost two thousand pounds
on goods which he had sold in the last year; and one thousand
pounds and upwards by mournings; and that for nine or ten years,
he was sorry to say, he had been extremely extravagant, and spent
large sums of money.

As Perrott, during this examination, had also sworn that he
never gamed, and as the vast sum unaccounted for came into his
hands only in the last year, it appeared scarcely possible that it
should, in that one year, be dissipated by any species of
extravagance; if not dissipated, it was concealed and Perrott
therefore was the same night committed to Newgate, for "not
having given satisfactory answers on his examination."

In Newgate he was constantly visited by Mrs Ferne, a
friend, who was always elegantly dressed, and who came in a
chariot or post-chaise, attended by a servant in livery or a maid-
servant, or both. They used frequently to dress a chop themselves,
and Perrott condescended to clean his own knives; yet his folly and
improvidence were so great that at this very time he indulged
himself and madam with green peas at five shillings a quart.

After he had continued in Newgate six weeks he gave
notice to the Commissioners that he would give a more satisfactory
account of the deficiency in his estate, and being therefore brought
before them on the 5th of June, 1760, he gave in, upon oath, the
following account:--
Fitting up my warehouse in Blowbladder Street,
and furnishing the same
L
.
1
0
0
Rent and boy's wages during my stay there
L
.
1
0
0
Travelling expenses during the same
L
.
1
0
0
My own diet during that time
L
.
1
2
5
Clothes, hats, wigs and other wearing necessaries
L
.
2
0
0
Fitting up my house on Ludgate Hill
L
.
1
0
0
Furnishing the same
L
.
2
0
0
Housekeeping, during my stay there, with rent,
taxes, and servants' wages
L
.
2
,
7
0
0
Clothes, hats, wigs, shoes and other wearing
apparel during my stay there
L
.
7
2
0
Travelling expenses during my stay on Ludgate
Hill
L
.
3
6
0

Horses, and keeping them, saddles, bridles and
Farrier's bill, during my residence on Ludgate Hill
and Blowbladder Street
L
.
5
7
5
Tavern expenses, coffee-house expenses, and
places of diversion during the above time
L
.
9
2
0

Expenses attending the connection I had with the
fair sex
L
.
5
,
5
0
0
Paid Mr Thompson for selling goods by
commission
L
.
3
0
0
Forgave him a debt in consideration of his trouble
and time in getting bills accepted, etc. .
L
.
3
0
Lost by goods and mourning
L
.
3
,
0
0
0
Total
L
.
1
5
,
0
3
0

To this account he added the most solemn asseveration
upon oath that he had not concealed any part of his estate and
effects whatsoever.

With this account the Commissioners were equally
dissatisfied, so they sent him back to Newgate; and some time after
he petitioned the Lord Keeper to be discharged. But his Lordship,
upon hearing the last deposition which Perrott thought fit to annex
to his petition read, thought it so infamous that he would not order
any attendance upon it.

As the creditors had now no doubt of the concealment of a
great part of Perrott's estate, a reward of forty per cent. was offered
by advertisements, often repeated, for the discovery of any part of
such estate. It happened that Mr Hewit, one of Perrott's assignees,
walking one morning upon the terrace in Lincoln's Inn Gardens,
observed a woman leaning over the wall, who had something so
disconsolate and forlorn in her appearance that he could not resist
his curiosity to speak to her. Upon inquiring what was the cause of
her present apparent distress, she told him that she had been turned
out of her service by one Mrs Ferne, and knew not where to go.
The name of Ferne immediately rendered his curiosity interested in
a high degree, and he sent her to Mr Cobb, who was clerk under
Perrott's commission, to get her examined.

The examination of this woman, whose name was Mary
Harris, was taken before Justice Fielding, on the 23rd of June,
1761, and, in consequence of this information, Ferne's apartments,
which were very expensively furnished, were searched, by virtue
of Fielding's warrant, and, at the same time, Perrott's room in
Newgate, by virtue of a warrant from the Commissioners.

In Ferne's possession were found the halves of four bank-
notes, amounting in all to one hundred and eighty-five pounds, and
the corresponding halves were found at the bottom of Perrott's
trunk, hidden, sewed up very carefully in a piece of rag, together
with the signed moiety of another bank-note for one thousand
pounds.

Upon this discovery, Ferne was carried before the justice,
and examined concerning the bank-notes, when she insisted they
were her own property, and received from gentlemen, as a gratuity,
for favours; but these very notes were, by the indefatigable
diligence of those concerned, traced back into money paid to
Thompson for goods which he sold on Perrott's account.

After some subsequent examinations of Mrs Ferne, and of
one Martin Matthias, and one Pye Donkin, who acted as attorneys
for Perrott -- which examinations all tended to prove that Perrott
had deposited notes to a great value in Ferne's hands, and to expose
the shameless perjury of Ferne -- all proceedings were suspended
till the trial in September, 1761, when, it being proved that the
notes found in the possession of Ferne and Perrott were the
produce of Perrott's estate, he was convicted, and received
sentence of death.

From the time of his having been charged with a capital
offence he was put into irons; yet he seemed healthy and cheerful.
He was often urged to make a full disclosure of his effects, but
obstinately refused, saying he was to die: that was atonement
sufficient for the wrongs he had committed.

He was, in consequence of his own request, visited the day 
before his death by his assignees, to whom, however, he refused to
answer particular questions relating to his estate, giving as a reason
that he had received the Sacrament. This reason for answering no
questions seems to prove that he had secretly determined not to
disclose his estate by answering truly; because, in this case, he
avoided the crime of falsehood by being silent, though otherwise
his answer would have coincided with every part of Christian duty,
and his having received the Sacrament would rather have been a
reason for his answering them than not.

On the morning of his execution he confessed the justice of
his sentence. He expressed great solicitude about what should
become of his body, desiring it might be buried in the church of the
place where he was born. To this he added another request, which
was much more rational: he desired that the time might be enlarged
in the chapel and shortened at the place of execution. He was in
chapel therefore from eight to three-quarters after nine; the next
half-hour was employed in knocking off his irons; about ten
minutes more were spent in taking leave of his fellow-convict, one
Lee, who was condemned for forgery; and about a quarter after ten
he appeared, pale and trembling, at the door of the press-yard, and
was immediately put into the cart. He was executed in Smithfield.



ROBERT GREENSTREET
Executed at Tyburn, 14th of December, 1761, for the Murder of his
Master, from whom he demanded an Increase of Wages

THIS man served his apprenticeship with a Mr Souch, a
fishhook-maker, in Crooked Lane, London, by whom he had been
so kindly treated that after the expiration of his time he continued
to work with him as a journeyman.

Greenstreet seems to have been of a discontented mind, for
he was often urging an increase of wages, more than that humble
trade would allow. One day, having again introduced the subject to
his old and kind master, now bending under the weight of many
years, it led to a dispute, in which the young villain felled the poor
old man to the ground, and there inhumanly repeated his blows.
While thus prostrate the master faintly exclaimed: "Bob, you are a
rogue to use me thus"; upon which the villain took a knife from his
pocket and, deliberately opening it, stabbed him in several parts of
his body, at every word calling out: "D-n your old soul!" This
bloody work was carried on before the youth who had succeeded
Greenstreet as apprentice, and who, in endeavouring to save his
master, received a stab through his hand. The murderer was
secured, and a surgeon sent for, who found the old man speechless,
senseless, and bleeding to death. In a few minutes he expired.

On his trial at the Old Bailey, Greenstreet pleaded guilty,
and received sentence of death. He was executed along with Daniel
Looney, for shooting Captain Shanks. The body of Greenstreet was
given to the surgeons for dissection, and when brought into the
Hall for that purpose the eyes opened, though the body was dead.



JOHN M'NAUGHTON, ESQ.
Who was twice executed in Ireland, 15th of December, 1761, for
the Murder of Miss Knox, whom he pretended to marry

JOHN M'NAUGHTON, ESQ., was the son of a merchant
at Derry, whose father had been an alderman of Dublin. To an
outward form which was perfectly engaging he added the most
genteel demeanour, so as to promise the very reverse of what was
the real disposition of his soul, which was subject to every blast of
passion. He was educated in Trinity College, Dublin. When of age
he entered into a landed estate of six hundred pounds a year, in the
county of Tyrone, which was left him by Dr M'Naughton, his
uncle.

The first vice he fell into was gaming, by which he very
soon did great injury to his fortune; and though he continued (as
most novices do who play with sharpers) in a constant run of ill-
luck, and was soon obliged to mortgage, yet his losses made no
visible alteration in his temper. His pride kept him within due
bounds there. All was placid with the polite M'Naughton, and he
lost his money to the very last with that graceful composure that
became the man who had a plentiful fortune to support it. But
strong as his passion this way might be, it was not strong enough to
secure him against the attacks of love, and falling a victim to the
charms of a young lady he very speedily married her.

His very agreeable person and soft polite address assured
his success with the ladies; but, as his character was generally 
known, the young lady's friends took all possible care to secure her
effects, and the lover was too eager to gratify his passion, and too
rash in his temper, to trouble himself about the disposition of
fortune.

The unavoidable expenses of a wife and servants in Dublin
(as he pursued his old course of gaming) soon increased his
difficulties. A sheriff's writ was taken out against Mr M'Naughton
for some large debt; and as he suspected the danger he kept himself
as secure at home as possible, by which means the bailiffs could
get no admittance. The creditor, or some other persons concerned,
hearing this, had influence enough with the High Sheriff to prevail
on him to go to Mr M'Naughton's house and take him prisoner.

As the sheriff went in a chair, and appeared like a
gentleman, the servants admitted him, and showed him into a
parlour, where their master was alone. The sheriff then told him he
was his prisoner. On this M'Naughton flew into a rage, and, calling
out for pistols, he frightened his poor listening wife to such a
degree that (being near her time) she fell in labour, and died in
childbed.

The High Sheriff was greatly blamed for this seeming
officious behaviour; but this dreadful consequence threw Mr
M'Naughton into such distraction that he made several attempts
upon his life, and was obliged to be attended and watched for some
months after. On his return from the country, after eighteen
months' absence, he appeared greatly altered -- like a wretch worn
out with grief -- so very susceptible was that frail man of the
excess of every passion. But this fatal accident, which nearly cost
him his life, was attended with one good consequence: it
immediately cut off all expense; and that long retirement into the
country was of some service to his troubled fortunes, and gave him
an opportunity, on his return to Dublin, to appear there like
himself, in some degree of splendour. There he renewed his old
and, no doubt, contracted new friendships, and kept most faithfully
to his favourite vice, gaming, which he pursued with great spirit.

Some few years before this, when Mr. M'Naughton had
both character and interest in the world, he was appointed collector
for the county of Coleraine; but the public money soon became a
dangerous commodity in the hands of a gamester; and when there
began to be a large balance against him, he not only lost that
profitable employment, but was obliged to get one of his wife's
relations to be security for him, and it is said that gentle man
remained some time after in trouble on his account. The loss of
that employment was the first mark of public discredit that befel
this unhappy man.

About the period of his reviving from his troubles, he made
his addresses secretly to Miss Knox, daughter of Richard Knox,
Esq., of Prohen, in the county of Derry, a gentleman possessed of
an estate of about fifteen hundred pounds per annum; and as by the
marriage settlement five thousand pounds had been settled on the
younger children, Miss Knox, having only one brother and no
sister, was entitled to the whole of five thousand pounds, even
though she disobliged her parents by marriage. We must add to this
bait the beauty, sweetness of temper and other accomplishments of
the young lady, which were remarkable. She was then about
fifteen.

Mr M'Naughton, who was an intimate friend of her father,
and a constant visitor, soon obtained a promise from the young
lady to marry him if he could get her father's consent. But Mr
Knox not only absolutely refused his consent, and gave his reasons
for it, but showed his resentment by forbidding him his house.

Mr M'Naughton then begged Mr Knox would permit him to
visit as formerly (as he said it would look strange to the world to
be forbidden to visit a family all the neighbours knew he had been
so intimate with), and solemnly promised, upon his honour, never
more to think of or mention this affair; and added, that as he had
not spoken of it to the young lady, Mr Knox need never do it, and
so the affair would drop of itself. Thus were the father's eyes and
ears once more scaled up by this artful man, who continued his
addresses to the daughter, and told her Mr Knox had promised him
his consent; but desired, however, that no further mention might be
made of the affair for a year or two, till some material business was
decided, which he would acquaint him with. Thus he deceived the
young lady, who now more freely gave way to his passion, and
again promised she would marry him as soon as that consent was
obtained. Thus he remained some time, constantly watching his
opportunity to complete his design.

One day, being in company with Miss Knox and a young
gentleman (a very boy) in a retired room in the house, he pressed
her to marry him, protesting he never could be happy till he was
sure of her; and, with an air of sprightly raillery, pulling out a
Prayer Book, he began to read the marriage service, and insisted on
the young lady's making the responses, which she did, but to every
one she always added, "provided my father consents."

A short time after this, Miss Knox going to a friend's house
on a week's visit, Mr M'Naughton, being also an intimate there,
soon followed her. Here he fixed his scene for action; here he
claimed her, and, calling her his wife, insisted on consummation,
which the young lady absolutely refused. She left the house, and
went directly and informed her uncle of the whole affair. On this,
Mr Knox wrote a letter to M'Naughton, telling him what a base,
dishonourable villain he was, and bade him avoid his sight for
ever. Upon the receipt of this letter M'Naughton advertised his
marriage in the public newspapers, cautioning every other man not
to marry his lawful wife. This was answered by a very spirited and
proper advertisement from the father, with an affidavit of the
whole affair from the daughter annexed.

Mr Knox then brought an action against him in the
Prerogative Court to set aside this pretended marriage, which was
found to be only a contract; for the breach of which the party can
only be sued at common law, and condemned to pay costs and
damages, Besides, it is probable that the young lady being under
age rendered this contract void in itself. At this time Mr
M'Naughton had absconded from his debts, and therefore could not
appeal to the Court of Delegates, where the former decree was
confirmed. In consequence of this decree, Judge Scott issued his
warrant to apprehend him. When M'Naughton heard this, he wrote
a most impudent, threatening letter to the judge, and, it is said, lay
in wait to have him murdered, when he was last at the assizes
there, but missed him, by the judge's taking another road. Upon
this the judge applied to the Lord Chief Justice, who issued out
another writ against him, that drove him to England.

Mr M'Naughton returned to Ireland in the summer of 1761,
and by constantly hovering round Mr Knox's house obliged the
family to be on their guard, and the young lady to live like a
recluse. However, about the middle of the summer, she ventured to
a place called Swaddling Bar, to drink the mineral waters there for
her health , thither this unhappy man followed her, and was seen
sometimes in a beggar's habit, sometimes in a sailor's. Thus
disguised he was detected, and then swore in the presence of
several that he would murder the whole family if he did not get
possession of his wife; and yet so infatuated were they as to suffer
him to get away once more to England, where he was supposed to
be by Mr Knox at the time this fatal event happened. He remained
in London till the month of October, and gamed, cheated, and
borrowed money from all his acquaintances, and imposed on many
by forged letters and false tokens from their friends.

It sounds something severe to speak thus harshly of a
gentleman, particularly one under misfortune. But this truth must
be observed. A man of worth and honour, brought to distress by
unforeseen accidents, may, and often does maintain his integrity
and good name, under a series of misfortunes; whereas the man,
reduced to poverty and distress by gaming, or any other
extravagant vice, too often descends to mean actions; and he who
commits a mean action is in great danger of committing a base
one.

About the 1st of November he was seen skulking in the
country of Ireland, and two nights prior to the murder was known
to sleep with three of his accomplices at the house of one Mr --, a
hearth-money collector. The morning of the 10th, the day the fact
was committed, they all came with a sackful of fire-arms to a little
cabin on the roadside, where Mr Knox was to pass in his coach-
and-six. From this cabin M'Naughton detached one of them to go
to an old woman who lived at some distance on the roadside, under
pretence of buying some yarn of her, but really to wait the coming
up of Mr Knox's coach, and inquire whose it was. When it
appeared in sight he asked that question, and was answered that it
was Mr Knox, who, with his family, was going to Dublin. He then
made her point to show him how they sat, which she did: Mr
Knox, his wife, his daughter and maid-servant. As soon as he had
got this information he ran off to inform M'Naughton that the
coach was coming, and to make ready; that he had looked into the
coach, and that Mr Knox was attended by only one servant and a
faithful fellow, a smith, who lived near him, and was foster-father
to Miss Knox. The character of foster-father is not much known or
regarded in England, but in Ireland of no small notice. This man's
wife was wet nurse, and suckled Miss Knox, from whence those
poor people generally contract a faithful affection. The foster-
father was one whom M'Naughton could never bribe, though most
of the other servants had suffered themselves to be tampered with,
and, when discovered, had been discharged. As soon as the coach
came near the cabin, two of the accomplices, armed with guns,
presented them at the postilion and coachman, which stopped the
coach, while M'Naughton fired at the smith with a blunderbuss.
Upon this the faithful smith, who luckily escaped the shot,
presented his piece, which, unfortunately, missed fire, and gave
M'Naughton and one of his comrades an opportunity to fire at the
poor fellow, and both wounded him. Immediately upon this two
shots were fired at the coach, one by M'Naughton himself, and
another by one of his assistants; and finding that the passengers
had drawn up the windows he ran round and fired into the coach
obliquely, with a gun loaded with five balls, all which entered the
body of the unhappy Miss Knox. The maid now let down the
window, and screamed out her mistress was murdered. On hearing
this, the only livery servant that attended the coach, properly
armed, came from behind a turf-stack, where he had hid himself,
and firing at M'Naughton, wounded him in the back; and about the
same time Mr. Knox fired one pistol, which was the last of eight
shots fired on this strange and dreadful occasion. Miss Knox was
carried into the cabin, where she expired in about three hours.

The murderer and his accomplices fled; but the country was
soon raised in pursuit of them, and, amongst others, some of Sir
James Caldwell's Light Horse, who were directed to search the
house and offices of one Wenslow, a farmer, not far distant from
the scene of action. But though some of the family knew he was
concealed there they pretended ignorance; so that M'Naughton
might have escaped, had not the corporal, after they had searched
every place, as they imagined, without success, and were going
away, bethought himself of the following stratagem. Seeing a
labourer digging potatoes in a piece of ground behind the stables,
he said to his comrades in the fellow's hearing: "It is a great pity
we cannot find this murderer; it would be a good thing for the
discoverer; he would certainly get three hundred pounds." Upon
which the fellow pointed to a hay-loft. The corporal immediately
ran up the ladder and forced open the door; upon which
M'Naughton fired at him and missed him. By the flash of the pistol
the corporal was directed where to fire his piece, which, happily,
wounding him, he ran in and, seizing him, dragged him out, when
they instantly tied him on a car, and conducted him to Lifford jail.
Here he remained in the closest confinement, entirely deserted by
all his friends and acquaintances, as appeared on the day of his 
trial, which commencedon the 8th of December, 1761, when he
was arraigned, with an accomplice, called Dunlap, before Baron
Mountney, Mr Justice Scott and Counsellor Smith, who went down
upon a special commission to try them.

M'Naughton was brought into court on a bier, rolled in a
blanket, with a greasy woollen night-cap, the shirt in which he was
taken being all bloody and dirty, and a long beard, which made a
dreadful appearance. In that horrid condition he made a long
speech, pointedly and sensibly, and complained in the most
pathetic manner of the hard usage he had met with since his
confinement. He said, 'they had treated him like a man under
sentence, and not like a man that was to be tried. He declared he
never intended to kill his dear wife (at saying which he wept); that
he only designed to take her away; that he would make such things
appear upon his trial, as should surprise them all.' But, alas! when
his trial came on, all this great expectation which he had raised in
the mind of every one, came to nothing.

The trial lasted five days. The first day, the 8th, was spent
in pleadings to put off the trial, and the reply of the counsel for the
crown.

During these debates, M'Naughton often spoke with most
amazing spirit and judgment, and much more like an eminent
lawyer than any of his counsel; and the result of that day was, that
he should prepare his affidavit, which the court would take into
consideration. Accordingly, on the 9th, he was brought into court
again, and his affidavit read, in which he swore, that some material
witnesses for him were not to be had, particularly one Owens, who
he said was present all the time; but the judges, after long debates,
were of opinion, that nothing sufficient was offered to put off the
trial; however, to shew their indulgence, they would give him that
day, and part of the next, to see if he could strengthen his affidavit
by that of others. But when the new affidavit was produced on the
10th, it was unanimously and peremptorily resolved by the court,
that he had not shewn sufficient cause to postpone his trial, and
accordingly they gave him notice to prepare for it on the 11th, at
eight o'clock in the morning.

The judges came on the bench at nine o'clock, and sat there
till eleven at night, without stirring out of court. During the whole
time of the trial, M'Naughton took his notes as regularly as any of
the lawyers, and cross-examined all the witnesses, with the greatest
accuracy. He was observed to behave with uncommon resolution.

His chief defence was founded on a letter he produced, as
wrote to him by Miss Knox, in which she desired him to intercept
her on the road to Dublin, and take her away; but this letter was
proved a forgery of his own, which after condemnation he
confessed.

He took great pains to exculpate himself from the last
design to murder any one, much less his dear wife (as he always
called her); he declared solemnly, that his intent was only to take
her out of the coach, and carry her off; but as he received the first
wound, from the first shot that was fired, the anguish of that
wound, and the prospect of his ill success in his design, so
distracted him, that being wholly involved in confusion and 
despair, he fired, he knew not at what, or whom, and had the
misfortune to kill the only person in the world that was dear to
him; that he gave the court that trouble, and laboured thus, not to
save his own life (for death was now his choice), but to clear his
character from such horrid guilt, as designedly to murder his better
half, for whom alone be wished to live.

These were his solenm declarations, but the direct contrary
was proved in court by several witnesses, whom be crossexamined
with great spirit, and seemed to insinuate, were brought there to
destroy him. And as the jury could only form their opinion on the
testimony of the witnesses before them, who were examined on
their oaths with the utmost care and solemnity, they brought him in
'Guilty'.

He heard their verdict without theleast concern, telling
them, 'They had acquitted themselves with justice to their country';
and when Mr. Baron Mountney pronounced the sentence upon him
and his accomplice Dunlap, who was found guilty with him,
though he did it in so pathetic a manner, as very visibly affected
every one, M'Naughton appeared with the same indifference as at
the beginning of the trial, and only begged the court would have
compassion on poor Dunlap. He said, 'he was his tenant; that he
possessed a very profitable lease, which was near expiring; that he
had promised him a renewal, if he would assist him in recovering
his wife; that he had forced his consent to accompany him in that
action. He therefore begged of the court to represent Dunlap as a
proper object of mercy. For his own life, he said, it was not worth
asking for; and, were he to choose, death should be his choice,
since Miss Knox, his better half, was dead.'

But when the unhappy man's plan for seizing the young
lady, and carrying her off, is properly considered, what a scheme
of madness does it appear; and how surprising it is that he should
get any wretches so blindly infatuated as to aid and assist him in so
wild and dangerous an undertaking! Was not the sack full of fire-
arms that were carried to the cabin (and perhaps all loaded there!)
enough to alarm them that murder might ensue? Do not most
families, who travel with an equipage and servants, go armed? and
might not this be particularly expected of a family that had
particular fears?

When the two armed parties met in open day, on such a
desperate business, what but murder could be the consequence?
and after the loss of two or three lives, suppose the assaulters had
been conquerors, where must they have carried their prize? Would
not the country have been raised? Would not they have been
pursued? Besides, was not the young lady going to Dublin? A city
that unhappy man was too well acquainted with. He knew it is
situated near the sea; that a well-concerted plan laid there for
carrying off the lady going home in a sedan chair from some visit,
by bribing the chairmen, and having a boat ready on the quays,
might, with some degree of probability, have been executed.

But without all doubt, he made all his accomplices and
assistants believe, that his design was only to take the young lady
away, whom he declared to be his wife; but the contrary appeared
on the trial. There it was sworn by one of the evidences, Mr. Ash,
that this unhappy wretch had vowed long ago, to murder Mr. Knox
and his whole family; and this fact evidently appeared, that he had
not made the least provision for carrying her off that day, nor once
demanded her at the coach side.
 Agreeable to the sentence, Mr. M'Naughton, with his accomplice
Dunlap, were executed on Tuesday the 15th of December, 1761,
near Strabane, in the county of Tyrone. M'Naughton walked to the
place of execution, but being weak of his wounds, was supported
between two men. He was dressed in a white flannel waistcoat
trimmed with black buttons and holes, a diaper night cap tied with
a black ribbon, white stockings, mourning buckles, and a crape tied
on his arm. He desired the executioner to be speedy, and when the
fellow pointed to the ladder he mounted with great spirit. The
moment he was tied up he jumped from it with such vehemence
that the rope snapped, and he fell to the ground, but without
dislocating his neck, or doing himself much injury. When they had
raised him on his legs again he soon recovered his senses. The
executioner then borrowed the rope from Dunlap and fixed it round
M'Naughton's neck; he went up the ladder a second time and, tying
the rope himself to the gallows, jumped from it again with the
same force, and appeared dead in a minute.

Thus died the once universally admired M'Naughton in the
thirty-eighth year of his age, deserted by all who knew him, in
poverty and ignominy.

M'Naughton not liking, he said, either the principles or
doctrine of the clergyman who first went to prepare him for death,
because it seems he made things too terrible to him, Mr. Burgoyne
succeeded. As no carpenter could be found to make the gallows,
the sheriff looked out for a tree proper for the purpose, and the
execution must have been performed on it, had not the uncle of the
young lady, and some other gentle men, made the gallows and put
it up. The sheriff was even obliged to take a party of soldiers and
force a smith to take off his bolts; otherwise he must have been
obliged, contrary to law, to execute him with his bolts on. The
spectators, who saw him drop, when the rope broke, looked upon it
as some contrivance for his escape, which they favoured all they
could by running away from the place, and leaving it open. The
populace would not probably have been so well disposed towards
him, had they known of his horrid designs of murder; but they had
been persuaded that he only meant to get possession of his wife.



CAPTAIN JAMES LOWRY
Executed at Execution Dock, March 25, 1762, for murdering one
of his Crew

THIS cruel man was born in Scotland, and after receiving a
good school education, was, at his own earnest request, bound
apprentice to a master of a vessel, to whom he served the time
faithfully; and from his good conduct, soon himself became master
of a ship.

He had just returned from Jamaica, with the charge of a
West-Indian trader, when about the middle of the month of June,
1751, appeared in the daily papers, a remarkable advertisement,
with ten signatures thereto, offering a reward of ten guineas for
apprehending James Lowry, late master of the Molly, a merchant-
ship, lately arrived from Jamaica, who was charged by ten of his
crew, with the cruel murder of Kenith Hossack, foremast-man, in
his passage home, on the 24th of December last, by ordering his
two wrists to be tied to the main-shrouds, and then whipping him
till he expired.

To this captain Lowry replied, by charging his crew with
depriving him of his command of the said ship, on the 29th of the
said month, and carrying her into Lisbon, where the British consul
re-instated him in his command, and he sent the ten subscribing
men home prisoners; and that he was ready to surrender when a
court should be appointed for his trial, which nothing prevented
him from doing immediately, but the thoughts of lying in gaol
under the detestable name of an inhuman man.

The crew rejoined in another advertisement, that Lowry did
not only murder the said Hossack, as appears by the affidavits of
the ten subscribers, and sworn before John Russel, Esq., the British
consul, at Lisbon, to be by him transmitted to the lords of the
Admiralty, but in the said passage, did use Peter Bright and John
Grace so cruelly that they died; and still continuing his barbarity,
to every man in the ship, broke the jaw-bone and one of the fingers
of William Dwight, and fractured the scull of William Wham.

They admitted that they (the subscribers) had been sent
from Lisbon to England, by the said British consul; but this was
done in consequence of a pretended charge of piracy sworn against
them by Lowry, as the only means he had to screen himself from
justice; for the sake of which, and to deter other masters of ships
from exercising the like barbarities at sea, they repeated their
reward, which they deposited in proper hands for apprehending the
murderer.

These advertisements naturally excited public curiosity,
and Lowry was apprehended and brought to trial at the Admiralty
sessions at the Old Bailey, on the 18th of February, 1752, for the
wilful murder of Kenith Hossack.

James Gatherah, mate of the vessel, deposed, that they left 
Jamaica on the 28th of October, 1750, having on board fourteen
hands; that, on the 24th of December, he came on deck between
four and five in the afternoon, and saw the deceased tied up, one
arm to the haulyards, and the other to the main shrouds, when the
prisoner was beating him with a rope, about an inch and a half in
thickness. This deponent returning again in half an hour, the
deceased begged to be let down on a call of nature; the captain
being now below, Gatherah obtained his permission to release him
for the present, but was to tie him up again; but when let down, he
was unable to stand; which being made known to Lowry, he said,
'D--n the rascal, he shams Abraham;' and ordered him again to be
tied up. This was done; but he was not made so fast as before,
which the captain observing, ordered his arms to be extended to the
full stretch, and taking the rope, beat him on the back, breast, head,
shoulders, face, and temples, for about half an hour, occasionally
walking about to take breath.

About six o'clock he hung back his head, and appeared
motionless; on which Lowry ordered him to be cut down, and said
to Gatherah, 'I am afraid Kenny is dead.' Gatherah replied, 'I am
sorry for it, but hope not.' Gatherah then felt his pulse; but finding
no motion there, or at his heart, said, 'I am afraid he is dead,
indeed;' on which the captain gave the deceased a slap on the face,
and exclaimed, 'D-n him, he is only shamming Abraham now.'

On this the deceased was wrapped up in a sail, and carried
to the steerage, where Lowry whetted a penknife, and Gatherah
attempted to bleed him, but without effect.

Gatherah deposed further, that the deceased had been ill of
a fever, but was then recovering, and though not well enough to go
aloft, was able to do many parts of his duty.

Gatherah likewise deposed to the tyranny and cruelty of the
captain to the whole ship's company, except one James Stuart; and
gave several instances of his inhumanity, particularly that of his
beating them with a stick which he called 'the royal oak's foremast.'

It was asked of Gatherah, why Lowry was not confined till
the 29th of December, as the murder took place on the 24th? to
which he answered, that the ship's crew had been uneasy, and
proposed to confine the captain; but that he (Gatherah) represented
the leaky condition of the ship, which made it necessary that two
pumps should be kept going, night and day; and the ship's crew
were so sickly, that not a hand could be conveniently spared; that
he believed the captain would be warned by what he had done, and
treat the rest of the crew better, during the remainder of the
voyage; that Lowry could not escape while on the voyage, and
that, on their arrival in England, he might be charged with the
murder before any magistrate.

The seamen were satisfied by these arguments; but Lowry
continuing his severities, it was determined to deprive him of his
command, and confine him to the cabin. At length the ship became
so leaky, that they did not expect to live from night till morning;
and the men quitted the pumps, and took a solemn farewell of each
other: but Gatherah advised them to renew their endeavours to save
the vessel, and to steer for the port of Lisbon.

This advice was followed; and having arrived off the rock
of Lisbon, they hoisted a signal for a pilot, and one coming off in a
fishing-boat, found that they had no product, on which he declined
conducting them into port; but by this pilot the captain sent a letter
to the British consul, informing him that the crew had mutinied: on
which the consul came on board, put ten of the seamen under
arrest, and sent them to England.

The account given by Gatherah to the consul corresponded
with that he had given in evidence at the Old Bailey. During the
voyage, the crew of Lowry's ship worked their passage; and, on
their arrival in England, though they were committed to the keeper
of the Marshalsea prison, yet they had liberty to go out when they
pleased; and considered themselves only as evidences against
Lowry.

The rest of the crew, who were examined on the trial, gave
testimony corresponding with that of Gatherah; and declared that
the deceased was sober and honest. Some questions were asked, if
they thought Lowry's ill treatment was the occasion of Hossack's
death. They replied there was no doubt of it; 'that it would have
killed him had he been in good health and strength, or the stoutest
man living; and that be generally beat them with a thick oak stick,
which he exultingly called, his royal oak's foremast.'

It may be proper to mention that Lowry, having taken men
on board to work his ship to England, arrived soon after his
accusers; but they having given previous information to the Lords
of the Admiralty, a reward was offered for apprehending him: he
remained some time concealed; but at length he was discovered by
a thief-taker, who took him into custody, and received ten guineas
from the marshal of the Admiralty.

The prisoner in his defence said, that his crew were a
drunken set of fellows, that they altered the ship's course and were
mutinous, that the deceased had stolen a bottle of rum and drank it,
whereby he became intoxicated, that he tied him up to the rails to
sober him, and that he flourished a rope three times round, and
gave him a few strokes which could not hurt him, that he fell
through drunkenness, and he did all he could to recover him.

After the evidence was recapitulated by the judge, the jury
retired for about half an hour, and then delivered their verdict, that
the prisoner was guilty; on which he received sentence of death,
and orders were given for his being hung in chains.

After conviction, Lowry bchaved with great apparent
courage and resolution, till a smith came to take measure of him
for his chains; when he fainted away, and fell on his bed, and was
measured while insensible. On his recovery, he said that it was the
disgrace of a public exposure that had affected him, and not the
fear of death.

On the 25th of March, at half past nine in the morning, the
unfortunate convict was brought out of Newgate, to undergo the
sentence of the law; on seeing the cart which was to convey him to
the gallows, be became pale but soon recovered a degree of
serenity of countenance. He had on a scarlet cloak over a morning
gown, and a brown wig, of the colour of his eyebrows. His eyes
were very bright and piercing, his features regular and agreeable,
and by no means evinced the cruelty of his disposition. He was, in
stature, about five feet seven inches, very well proportioned, and
about forty years of age. His behaviour was quite composed and
undaunted. Before the cart was carried a silver oar of a very
antique form.

The dreadful procession had not moved many yards, before
the populace began to express their indignation at the culprit. Some
sailors cried out, Where is your royal oak's foremast?' others
vociferated, 'He is shamming Abraham;' and with such tauntings
and revilings was he drawn to Execution Dock; near which a
number of sailors being collected, they poured execrations on his
devoted head.

He was then taken out of the cart, and placed upon a
scaffold under the gallows, where he put on a white cap. He prayed
very devoutly with the ordinary of Newgate, about a quarter of an
hour; then giving the executioner his money and watch, the
platform fell. After hanging twenty minutes, the body was cut
down, put into a boat, and carried to Blackwall, and there hung in
chains, on the bank of the Thames.



JOHN PLACKETT
Executed on the City Road, London, 28th of July, 1762, for
robbing a Danish Gentleman, whom he treated with great
Barbarity

ALL the robberies which we have been able to trace to this
man were committed within the circle of a mile of Islington, the
place of his birth. He was transported for a burglary near
Clerkenwell, which adjoins to Islington -- which is in fact a part of
that village -- and he was executed near the spot where he robbed
and so cruelly treated a stranger.

John Plackett was the son of industrious people, living at
Islington, who placed him at a charity school, whence he was
apprenticed to Mr Pullen, wheelwright, of St John's Street.

He absconded from his master before four years of his
apprenticeship were expired, and entered on board a man-of-war.
His character as a sailor was unexceptionable; but when the ship
was paid off he contracted an acquaintance with a number of
dissolute people, and, having soon spent his wages in scenes of riot
and dissipation, he commenced as a footpad.

Having subsisted some time by the commission of
robberies on the highway, he broke into a house near Hockley-in-
the-Hole and stole a quantity of kitchen furniture, for which
offence he was tried at the Old Bailey, and sentenced to seven
years' transportation. Soon after the expiration of the term of his
exile Plackett returned to England, and committed several
robberies between Islington and London.

On the 10th of June Plackett was drinking with some
sailors during the greater part of the day, at a public-house in
Wapping, and about twelve at night he left them, with an intention
of committing robbery.

The same night Mr Fayne, a Norway merchant, was
returning from the Danish coffee-house, in Wellclose Square,
where he had spent the evening with some friends, to his lodgings
in Shadwell, when, losing his way, he inquired of a hackney-
coachman the road to Shadwell; but, as he spoke very indifferent
English, the man could not understand him, and he presently
applied for the same purpose to another hackney-coachman; at
which instant Plackett came up and made signs for Mr Fayne to
follow him, saying he was going to Limehouse.

They walked together through many streets, and obscure
lanes and passages, till they came into the fields, when Mr Fayne
observed that they could not be in the right road; but the other
pretended not to understand him. They proceeded to the fields near
Islington, when Mr Fayne became greatly alarmed, and expressed
much uneasiness, for which, indeed, he had sufficient cause, for his
treacherous companion, going behind him, struck him a violent
blow on the back of his head, which occasioned him to fall to the
ground.

The unfortunate gentleman lay for some time in a state of
total insensibility; but upon recovering the use of his faculties he
found himself entirely naked, and perceived Plackett standing near
him, with his clothes and his pocket-book in his hands. In a few
minutes Plackett made off with his booty, which, exclusive of his
clothes, did not amount to much more than a guinea and a half.
Information of the affair was given before Mr Justice Welch, who
advertised a reward for apprehending the offender; and in a few
days Plackett was taken at his lodgings in Gray's Inn Lane. The
shirt that Mr Fayne wore when he was robbed was found in
Plackctt's room; and the person was traced to whom he had sold
the clothes.

At the next sessions at the Old Bailey, Plackett was
sentenced to be hanged, and his body to be hung it chains.

The place appointed for his execution was near the City
Road, and when he arrived there he pointed to the spot where he
had robbed Mr Fayne, saying his soul was struck with horror when
he reflected upon his cruelty to that gentleman. After hanging the
usual time the body was cut down and conveyed to Finchley
Common, where it was put into irons and hung on a gibbet.

The spot where he suffered was called, for many years
afterwards, "Plackett's Common."



PETER ANNET
Convicted and pilloried for Blaspheming, in Michaelmas Term,
1762

PETER ANNET, a deist, upwards of seventy years of age,
was indicted in the Court of King's Bench, at Westminster, in
1762, for being the author of divers blasphemous remarks on the
five books of Moses.

The charge being fully proved, he was sentenced to be
imprisoned one month in Newgate, and within that time to stand
twice in and upon the pillory, once at Charing Cross and once at
the Royal Exchange; to pay a fine to the King of six shillings and
eightpence; then to be sent to Bridewell and kept to hard labour
one year, and at the expiration thereof to find securities for his
good behaviour during the remainder of his life, himself in one
hundred pounds, and the sureties in fifty pounds each.



JAMES FARR, WILLIAM SPARRY AND WILLIAM BIDDLE
Executed at Tyburn, 10th November, 1762 for forging a Will

AT the sessions of the Old Bailey held on the 22nd of
October, 1762,the above prisoners were indicted for forging, and
publishing as true, a certain paper instrument, in writing,
purporting to be the last will and testament of Jeffery Henville, late 
of Charles Street, St James's, tailor, with intent to defraud Anne
Ferte, housekeeper to the said Henville, and to whom he had
bequeathed his personal estate.

Farr was a relation of the deceased, and a tallow-chandler
in the Strand. Sparry was a disgraceful attorney, residing at
Greenwich, and son-in-law to Henville; while Biddle was the
landlord of the Ship and Anchor tavern, without Temple Bar.

The deceased, Henville, had bequeathed his real estate to
the son of Sparry, and it appears the father coveted a share of the
testator's personal property, to obtain which he contrived a
spurious will in favour of himself and Farr. Biddle was to be
rewarded for the iniquitous part he took in the transaction, which
was to witness the forged instrument.

The forgery was fully proved upon them, and they
accordingly received sentence of death. On the 10th of November
they were conveyed to Tyburn, in order for execution.

They all behaved penitently and with resolution, but decent
resignation. Farr fixed the knot of the halter under his left ear, and
then exclaimed: "I have but a few moments to stay in this world. I
have found it a wicked world -- a very wicked world indeed!" The
other two malefactors declined to address the populace, and they
were immediately launched into eternity.



DANIEL BLAKE
Executed for the Murder of John Murcott, Butler to Lord Dacre,
28th of February, 1763

BLAKE was the son of a butcher at Bunwell, in Norfolk,
who brought the youth up to his own business. When he was about
twenty years old he became dissatisfied with his trade and travelled
to London, with an intention of hiring himself as a gentleman's
servant; and he had been but a short time in the metropolis when
he was engaged in the service of Lord Dacre.

Having contracted an acquaintance with some women of
abandoned character, Blake resolved to support the expenses
subsequent thereon by robbing his fellow-servants. He had been in
the service of Lord Dacre about ten weeks when he determined to
carry his iniquitous plan into execution; and going into the room of
Mr Murcott, his lordship's butler, he repeatedly struck him with
great violence on the head with a poker, and then, taking a knife
from his pocket, cut his throat almost from ear to ear.

After the barbarous murder of Mr Murcott, Blake took
twenty guineas from the breeches pocket of the deceased and then
returned to his bed. He rose about seven and went about his usual
business and in about an hour he was desired to call Mr Murcott;
on which he said he had already called him two or three times, but
had not been able to make him answer.

Lord Dacre's bell ringing about nine, the porter went into
the chamber of the deceased and repeatedly called him. He then
approached the bed and shook Mr Murcott, and, finding him still
silent and motionless, exclaimed: "God bless me, I believe he is
dead!" He then turned down the bedclothes, which the murderer
had thrown over Mr Murcott's face, and, perceiving them bloody,
he quitted the room in great terror and communicated his discovery
to the housekeeper and Lady Dacre's waiting-maid, who, going
into the room, turned the clothes a little farther down and observed
a knife, which they supposed to have fallen from the hand of the
deceased, and on attempting to move the body the head inclined
backwards and gave the wound a most shocking appearance.

Upon the rest of the servants being informed of Mr
Murcott's unhappy death, Blake shed tears in great abundance,
wrung his hands, and appeared to be affected in so extravagant a
degree that he was urged to moderate his affliction, lest the
nobleman and his lady should be alarmed. Mr Murcott's death
being communicated to Lord Dacre, he sent for Marsden, clerk to
Sir John Fielding, and kept him in the house three days, with the
view of discovering the perpetrator of the horrid fact. During the
time that Blake had been in the service of Lord Dacre he was
known to have been in very indigent circumstances, but on the day
after the murder he was observed to discharge several small debts;
and hence arose a suspicion of his guilt. All the servants in the
family being strictly examined, in the presence of Lord Dacre, the
porter declared that he firmly believed that the knife found in the
bed belonged to Blake. Being taken into custody, and conducted to
Sir John Fielding's, he voluntarily acknowledged himself guilty of
the horrid fact, and was committed to Newgate, in order for trial.
At the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey he was put on his trial;
and, his own confession being corroborated by very strong
circumstantial evidence, he was found guilty, and sentenced to be
executed.

While he was in Newgate he proved that he had but very
imperfect ideas of his duty towards the Almighty, and confessed
that he had not read a chapter in the Bible, or attended to any other
religious book, since leaving school. While he was under sentence
of death his behaviour was decent and penitential, and the day
before his execution he said his mind was perfectly calm.



WILLIAM HARROW
The Flying Highwayman, executed at Hertford, 28th of March,
1763

THIS malefactor may be said to have galloped to his fate
over the beaten road. He commenced his career in idleness, the
parent vice; then he became dexterous at throwing at cocks and
cock-fighting. These cruel and infamous acquirements led to
robberies, adultery, and every other deadly sin. Such is the general
course of highwaymen, and their goal -- the gallows.

He had likewise a propensity to poaching. The gamekeeper
of a gentleman near Hatfield having detected him in a fact of this
kind, Harrow threatened his destruction; the consequence of which
was that he was lodged in Hertford Jail; but before the time of
holding the Quarter Sessions he broke out, and made his escape.
Thereupon a reward of fifty pounds was offered for taking him into
custody. Made desperate by this circumstance, he took to robbing
on the highway, and the depredations he made were very
numerous. He obtained the name of the "Flying Highwayman," by
his horse's leaping the several turnpikes, so that he constantly
escaped detection. His career in villainy was, however, happily but
short. He laid a scheme for committing a burglary and robbery, for
which he and two of his associates forfeited their lives. In company
with Thomas Jones, a noted travelling rat-catcher, William
Bosford, and another desperate villain, he went to the house of an
old farmer, named Thomas Glasscock, who had, by a very
extraordinary degree of parsimony, accumulated a very
considerable sum, of which these abandoned men determined to
rob him, under the pretence of being peace officers who had come
to apprehend some deserters. The old gentleman refused them
admittance; on which they forced their way through the window
and, binding Mr Glasscock and his housekeeper, searched the
house, and found a tea-chest which contained three hundred
pounds, which they seized and departed.

Having divided the booty, they separated; and Harrow,
taking a girl with him as a companion, travelled into
Gloucestershire, and put up at an ale-house in a small village, and,
assuming the character of a sailor who had brought home prize-
money to a considerable amount, he continued there for two
months without any suspicion arising. At length a quarrel
happened between some of the customers of the house and
Harrow, when a scuffle ensued, and, a pistol in one of Harrow's
pockets going off, a suspicion arose that he was a highwayman, on
which he was carried before a magistrate for examination.

Nothing like proof arising to incriminate him, he was
dismissed; but thinking it not prudent to remain any longer he set
out with his girl, but did not tell anyone the road that he intended
to travel. Very near to the time that he departed, one of the
magistrates of Gloucestershire received a letter from Sir John
Fielding, requesting that he would order a search for one William
Harrow, who stood charged with having committed a variety of
robberies in the neighbourhood of St Albans. Thereupon the
magistrates sent some persons in pursuit of him, and, having taken
him into custody, he was conducted to prison at Gloucester. By a
writ of habeas corpus he was removed to Hertford, where he lay
till the assizes, when he was indicted for robbing Mr Glasscock,
and being convicted on the clearest evidence was sentenced to die.

A number of clergymen visited him after conviction, and
laboured to convince him of the necessity of making an immediate
preparation for eternity. He was likewise visited by his mother,
who burst into tears at the sight of her wretched son.

On the night before his execution he sawed off his irons,
with an intent to make his escape, but he had not quite time enough
to effect his purpose. When the jailer came in the morning, he said
he would have saved the hangman his trouble if he had not come
so soon, and threw at him the irons, which he had by this time got
from his legs. Before he was put in the cart a sermon was preached
on the occasion of his fatal exit.

Immense numbers of people attended at the place of
execution, to see the last of a man who had made himself dreaded
through the country by the enormity of his conduct.

Harrow, Jones, and Bosford, were executed at Hertford,
March the 28th, 1773, along with John Wright, for a highway
robbery on the Buntingfield road.

The unfortunate Mr. Glasscock seems to have been a
devoted prey to robbers. On the 7th of September, 1764, he was
attacked in his own fields by a daring villain, at noon-time of day,
who obliged him to go to his house, and deliver his money. On
entering, the robber shut the door, knocked the old man down, and
carried off everything valuable that was left by Harrow and his
gang, with which he escaped.



ANN BEDDINGFIELD AND RICHARD RINGE
The Woman burned for the Murder of her Husband, and the Man
hanged for being her Accomplice, near Ipswich, 8th of April, 1763

JOHN BEDDINGFIELD, the husband of the murderess,
was the son of respectable parents, at Sternfield, in Suffolk, and
having married when he was about twenty-four years of age, the
young couple were placed in a good farm, which was carefully
attended by Beddingfield, who bore the character of a man of
industry and integrity. They had two children.

Richard Ringe, a youth of nineteen, was engaged in the
service of Mr Beddingfield; nor had he been long in the house
before his mistress became so enamoured of him that her husband
was the object of her contempt. Her behaviour to Ringe was such
that he could not long doubt of her favourable inclinations; nor had
he virtue to resist the temptation.

At length Mrs Beddingfield, having formed the horrid
design of destroying her husband, communicated her intention to
Ringe, who hesitated on the dreadful proposal, nor did he consent
till she had promised that he should share her fortune as the reward
of the deed.

Mrs Beddingfield, blinded by her passion, was now so
much off her guard as to say very indiscreet things to her servants,
which led them to presume she had determined on the most
deliberate wickedness; of which the following is given as one
instance. As she was dressing herself one morning she said to her
maid-servant: "Help me to put on my ear-rings; but I shall not wear
them much longer, for I shall have new black ones. It will not be
long before somebody in the house dies, and I believe it will be
your master."

Extravagant as this declaration was, the behaviour of Ringe
was not at all more prudent. He purchased some poison, and told
one of the servant-maids that he would be her constant friend if she
would mix it with some rum-and-milk that her master drank in the
morning. But the girl declined having any concern in so horrid a
transaction; nor did she take any notice of the proposal that had
been made till after the commission of the murder.

Mr Beddingfield happening to be indisposed, it was
recommended to him to take a vomit, and the water which the
servant-maid brought him to drink proving to be too hot, Ringe
was directed to bring some cold water to mix with it, and he took
this opportunity of putting arsenic into the water; but Beddingfield,
observing a white sediment in the basin, would not drink, though
no suspicion of the liquor being poisoned had occurred to him.

Henceforward the intentional murderers resolved not to
think of having recourse to poison, but devised another scheme of
dispatching the unfortunate object of their vengeance. Mr
Beddingfield having been selling some cattle to another farmer,
they drank a sociable glass together, but not to such a degree as to
occasion intoxication. When Mr Beddingfield came home he found
that his wife was in bed with one of the maid-servants, on which he
desired her to come to his chamber; but this she refused, and
mutual recriminations passed between them. It had been
determined by Ringe to commit the murder on that night, while his
master was asleep; whereupon, when he knew he was in bed, he
quitted his own room, passed through that in which his mistress
slept, and went to the bedchamber of his master. Ringe, observing
that Mr Beddingfield was asleep, threw a cord round his neck to
strangle him; but, being hurt by the weight of Ringe lying across
him, he struggled, so that they both fell off the bed together.
However, the horrid deed of murder was soon perpetrated.

Mrs Beddingfield, being asleep in the next room, was
awakened by the noise, and in her fright awakened the servant. At
this instant Ringe entered the room and said: "I have done for
him." To which the wife answered: "Then I am easy." The girl was
greatly alarmed, and cried out: "Master!" -- supposing Mr
Beddingfield was present, for there was no light in the room; but
Mrs Beddingfield commanded her to be silent. Ringe asked the
mistress if any one was acquainted with what had passed besides
her and the maid; on which the girl asked, 'How came you here,
Richard?' The villain, terrified by his guilt, replied, 'I was forced to
it.' He now went to his own room, and laid down; and the mistress
and maid getting up, the latter was charged not to utter a syllable of
what had passed.

Mrs Beddingfield now directed the girl to call Ringe, who
seemed offended at being disturbed; but, when he had struck a
light, his mistress told him to go into his master's room, for she
was afraid that he was indisposed. Ringe obeyed; but, on his
return, said, with an air of surprize, that his master was dead.

By this time another maid-servant was got up, and the girls,
going to their master's room, found the deceased lying on his face,
and observed that part of his shirt-collar was torn off, and that his
neck was black and swelled.

A messenger was instantly dispatched to Mr Beddingfield's
parents, who proposed to send for a surgeon; but the wife insisted
that it was unnecessary to send for a doctor, as her husband was
already dead. On the following day the coroner's jury took an
inquisition into the cause of his death; but so superficial was the
inquiry that it lasted only a few minutes, and their determination
was that he died a natural death.

The guilty commerce between the murderers now became
still more evident than before; but so fickle was Mrs Beddingfield's
disposition that in a few weeks she began to despise the man whom
she had excited to the murder of her husband. The servant-maid
now resolved to discover the fact, but postponed the doing so till
she had received the wages for her quarter's service. When her
mistress had paid her, she went to her parents and discovered all
she knew of the matter; on which a warrant was issued for
apprehending the murderers. They had an item of what was going
forward, and therefore attempted to bribe the girl's mother to
secrecy; but she rejected their offers; on which Mrs Beddingfield
made her escape, but was apprehended at the end of two days.
Ringe, however, seemed to disdain to consult his own safety, but
remained in the house; and, after he was committed to prison, he
confessed that he had deemed himself a dead man from the time of
his perpetrating the murder.

At the Lent Assizes in 1763 the prisoners were brought to
trial, when the surgeon and coroner were examined as to what fell
within their knowledge. The former confessed that he saw marks
of violence on the body; and being asked how he could depose 
before the coroner that Mr Beddingfield had died a natural death,
he replied that he 'did not think much about it.' A strange, and
almost unaccountable declaration!

The preceding part of this narrative will lead the reader to
judge of the rest of the evidence that was given on the trial; and the
prisoners, having nothing to allege in extenuation of their crime,
were capitally convicted and sentenced to death.

After conviction, as well as before, Ringe freely confessed
his guilt; but expressed the utmost anxiety at the thought of being
dissected. Mrs Beddingfield refused to make any confession till the
day before her death.

They were placed on one sledge on the morning of their
execution, and conveyed to a place near Ipswich, called Rushmore,
where Ringe made a pathetic address to the surrounding multitude,
advising young people to be warned, by his fate, to avoid the
delusions of wicked women, and to consider chastity as a virtue.

After the fervent exercise of devotion he was turned off,
while the body of Mrs Beddingfield, who had been first strangled
at a stake, was burning to ashes, agreeable to the practice
respecting women who are convicted of the murder of their
husbands.

These malefactors suffered at Rushmore on the 8th of
April, 1763.



JOHN RICE
A City Stockbroker, executed at Tyburn, 4th of May, 1763, for
Forgery

THOUGH extravagance brought this man to an untimely
end, and though the amount of the forgery for which he suffered
was immense, few criminals have excited more pity.

The fatal consequences of living beyond our income, are so
strongly marked in the life of Mr. Rice, that it must surely serve as
a caution to every one. Until the discovery of this forgery, his
character was unimpeached; and his name was good to any
reasonable amount.

He was the son of Mr. Rice, of Spital-square, a
considerable stock-broker, whose behaviour had rendered him
esteemed by all who knew him, and the profits of whose profession
enabled him to support his family in a style of great gentility.

Unhappily for himself, he lived in too gay a manner, having
a country house at Finchley, an elegant town house in John Street,
near Gray's Inn, and keeping a coach, chaise, chariot, and several
livery-servants: yet still it is probable that he might have supported
his credit, but that, flushed with success, he wished to grow still
richer than he was, which led him on to that species of gaming
called speculating in the stocks, by which he suffered so greatly at
different times that he was said to be a loser to the amount of sixty
thousand pounds.

In the vain hope of recovering his circumstances he was
tempted to the commission of forgery. Among others of his clients
was Mrs Ann Pierce, a Yorkshire lady, who had a very
considerable property in South Sea stock; and, in her name, Rice
was rash enough to forge letters of attorney, by which he received
upwards of nineteen thousand, nine hundred pounds.

Mrs Pierce having occasion to come to town soon after
these transactions, Rice, hearing of the intended journey, thought it
necessary to consult his safety in flight. Thereupon he took a post-
chaise for Dover, and embarked in the packet-boat for Calais,
where he soon landed.

Thence he travelled to Cambrai, a city in French Flanders,
and the seat of an archbishop, which he had been taught to
consider as a privileged place, where he could remain unmolested.
It appears, however, that this was not the case, for the Archbishop
of Cambrai, though a Prince of the Empire, was subject to the
Parliament of Tournai, and had therefore no power to protect a
criminal fugitive.

Whether Mrs Rice knew of her husband's design previous
to his departure, or by letter from him, is uncertain, but she
determined to follow him, and taking a post-chaise reached
Harwich, where she embarked in the packet for Holland, designing
to travel thence to Cambrai, But the wind proving contrary, the
vessel was obliged to put back to Harwich, whence Mrs Rice
returned to London, proposing to re-embark on a future occasion.

It is probable that Mrs Rice now apprehended herself in
security; but she had no sooner arrived in London than she was
taken into custody, and, being carried before the Lord Mayor,
bank-notes to the amount of four thousand, seven hundred pounds
were found sewn up in her stays.

On her examination she acknowledged whither her husband
had retired; and the crime with which he was charged being
thought to affect public credit, our Ministry dispatched a
messenger to the English ambassador at Paris, desiring he would
use his interest with the people in power in France to have the
culprit delivered up to the justice of the laws of his native country.

This requisition was instantly complied with; and orders
being sent to Cambrai to secure Mr Rice, notice was transmitted to
London that he was in custody; on which one of the clerks of the
bank and another of the South Sea House went over with one of
the King's Messengers, to bring the unhappy man to England.

On their arrival at the prison of Cambrai they found the
presumed culprit in a state of great dejection. They were
proceeding to handcuff him, but he fell on his knees and, in tears,
implored that they would dispense with this disgraceful
circumstance. They generously complied; and Rice was placed in
one post-chaise, with the Messenger, the gentlemen preceding
them in another.

Having embarked for Dover, they landed, and proceeded
immediately towards London. The newspapers having mentioned
what had happened respecting Mr Rice, the public curiosity was so
much excited that crowds of people attended at every place where
they stopped to take a view of the unfortunate prisoner.

On his arrival in London he was carried before the Lord
Mayor, who, remarking the utmost candour, even to generosity, in
his answers to the questions that were proposed to him, committed
him to the Poultry Compter instead of sending him to Newgate,
presuming that his situation might be rendered less disagreeable in
the former prison than in the latter.

On his way from the compter to the Old Bailey he fainted
several times, and when brought to the bar he sank down, without
any signs of life; and it was a considerable time before he could be
recovered. He was brought to the inner bar, and being languid, pale
and trembling was indulged with a chair; but even then it was not
without assistance that he was kept up while arraigned. He forged
four letters of attorney, but was tried on only one, empowering,
him to sell five thousand pounds, and for fraudulently selling five
hundred pounds, part of that sum, to Thomas Brooksbank, His
general appearance and extreme distress touched all present on the
awful occasion with compassion.

The praticulars of his trial consist chiefly of official proof
of the forgery; in short, the unhappy man had himself
acknowledged the forgery before the lord-mayor. When he heard
the fatal verdict pronounced, he looked up to lord Mansfield, who
presided, with a countenance which bespoke the bitterness of his
heart, and with eyes overflowing with tears, implored the
intercession of the court with his majesty to spare his life. In
answer to this lord Mansfield advised him not to flatter himself
with hope of that mercy which there was no probability of being
extended to. him. His lordship farther said, 'Considering your
crime, and its consequences, in a nation where there is so much
paper credit, I must indeed tell you, I think myself bound in duty
and conscience to acquaint his majesty that you are no object of his
mercy.' His lordship farther observed, 'that all public companies
should take warning, by the present instance, carefully to examine
all letters of attorney, for the more effectual prevention of fraud.'

After conviction as well as before, Mr. Rice gave every
sign of the most sincere contrition. While under sentence of death,
he made the most serious preparation for the important change that
awaited him. He expected the warrant for his execution some days
before it arrived, and when it came the fatal news was concealed
from him till his wife, who was then present, had retired.

It is recorded, to the credit of Mr. Rice, that before he
quitted the kingdom, he sent for his tradesmen's bills, and
discharged all those that were delivered.

Mr. Rice's friends petitioned that he might be allowed a
coach to the place of execution; but this favour was denied, and he
was placed in a cart, and attended by a faithful friend, who was too
generous to leave him till the last fatal moment.

After conviction, as well as before, Mr Rice gave every
sign of the most sincere contrition. At Tyburn, the place of
execution, he attended alone to prayers, where he expressed
himself with ardour and fervency, suffering the pains of death with
a placid hope of a happy immortality; and, perhaps, no mn ever
expiated his crimes at the fatal tree, more universally lmented.

The mother of Mr Rice was living at the time his
misfortunes commenced; and her friends, anxious to alleviate her
distress, told her that her son was taken ill at Cambrai. They then
added that his life was despaired of, and at length said that he was
dead. The old lady lived at Stoke Newington; and when, on the day
after execution, the criers of dying speeches made their
perambulations, the inhabitants of Newington, with a generosity
that will ever do them honour, gave the poor people money not to
cry the speeches near the house.




PAUL LEWIS
An Officer of the Royal Navy, who became a Highwayman, and
was executed at Tyburn, 4th of May, 1763

PAUL LEWIS was born at Hurstmonceaux, in Sussex, and
was the son of a worthy clergyman, who put him to a grammar
school at a very early age. He had an ambition to become a fine
gentleman. In his spirited attempts to attain that character he ran
into debt with his tailor, to the amount of about one hundred and
fifty pounds, which obliged him to run away and go to sea.

There he had for some time behaved so well that he was
made first a cadet, then a midshipman, and finally, a lieutenant in
the Royal Navy.

He was at the taking of Senegal, the burning of the ships in
Cancale Bay, the reduction of Cherbourg, the battle of St Cas, the
siege of Guadeloupe, and the engagement under Sir Edward
Hawke, in all which services he behaved with courage and activity.

He had vices, however, not common to bravery, and very
different from the irregular sallies of a high-spirited and strong
passion. Paul was not only wicked but base, not only a robber but a
scoundrel; of which he gave proofs while on board the fleet,
particularly by collecting three guineas apiece from many of his
brother officers, to lay in stores for a West India voyage, and then
running away with the collection from the ship and commencing as
highwayman.

Having thus begun his iniquitous course of life, he went to
a public-house in Southwark, stayed a great part of the day, and
supped; and then, going to an inn, hired a horse, rode out between
Newington Butts and Vauxhall, and stopped a gentleman and his
son in a post-chaise and robbed them, returning to the public-house
in Southwark. Being apprehended for this offence, he was brought
to trial at Kingston, when, the people of the public-house swearing
that he had not been absent from noon till midnight more than half-
an-hour, he was acquitted.

After this he committed a variety of robberies. An
accomplice and he having robbed a gentleman and lady in a post-
chaise, near Paddington, the robbers rode some miles together and
then agreed to part, to commit their depredations separately. Not
long had they parted when Lewis stopped a gentleman, named
Brown, and demanded his money. Mr Brown resisted the
highwayman with such determined resolution that Lewis fired at
him, but, happily, without effect.

At this juncture Mr Brown's horse took fright and threw
him; but being little injured he soon recovered, and saw Lewis in
the custody of Mr Pope, a constable, who had got him down and
was kneeling on his breast -- a circumstance that arose from the
following accident. Mr Pope, riding on the same road, met a
gentleman and lady who told him they had been robbed by two
highwaymen, and desired him to be cautious; but this induced him
to ride on the faster, and he arrived at the critical spot a short time
after the robbery was committed, and seized Lewis.

Pope desired Mr Brown to ride after the other highwayman
who had been on the road, but at this instant Lewis rose and,
presenting a pistol, swore he would shoot Pope. The latter,
however, was in no degree intimidated, but, knocking the pistol out
of his hand, threw him down and secured him. The highwayman
was conveyed to New Prison, where, having lain one night, he was
taken before a magistrate, who committed him to Newgate. At an
ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey he was brought to trial, and
received sentence of death.

Such was the baseness and unfeeling profligacy of this
wretch that when his almost heart-broken father visited him for the
last time, in Newgate, and put twelve guineas into his hands, to
defray his expenses, he slipped one of the pieces of gold into the 
cuff of his sleeve, by a dexterous sleight, and then opening his
hand showed the venerable and reverend old man that there were
but eleven, upon which he took from his pocket another and gave it
him, to make up the number he intended.

Arrived at Tyburn, he looked round him with a face of
inexpressible anguish, and then addressed himself to the multitude
in the following terms -- "This dreadful sight will not, I believe,
invite any of you to come here, by following my example; but
rather to be warned by me. I am but twenty-three years of age, a
clergyman's son, bred up among gentlemen -- this wounds me the
deeper; for to whom much is given, of them more is required."



HANNAH DAGOE
Sentenced to Death for robbing a Poor Woman. She struggled
violently with the Executioner on the Scaffold, 4th Of May, 1763

WE have adduced many instances of the hardness of heart,
and contempt of the commandments of God, in men who have
undergone the last sentence of the law; but we are of opinion that
in this female will be found a more relentless heart, in her last
moments, than any criminal whom we have yet recorded.

Hannah Dagoe was born in Ireland, and was of that
numerous class of women who ply at Covent Garden Market as
basket-women, to the excusion of poor Englishwomen. In the
pursuit of her vocation she became acquainted with a poor and
industrious woman of the name of Eleanor Hussey, who lived by
herself in a small apartment, in which was some creditable
household furniture, the remains of the worldly goods of her
deceased husband. Seizing an opportunity, when the owner was
from home, this daring woman broke into Hussey's room and
stripped it of every article which it contained.

For this burglary and robbery she was brought to trial at the
Old Bailey, found guilty, and sentenced to death.

She was a strong, masculine woman, the terror of her
fellow-prisoners, and actually stabbed one of the men who had
given evidence against her; but the wound happened not to prove
dangerous.

On the road to Tyburn she showed little concern at her
miserable state, and paid no attention to the exhortations of the
Romish priest who attended her. When the cart, in which she was
bound, was drawn under the gallows, she got her hands and arms
loose, seized the executioner, struggled with him, and gave him so
violent a blow on the breast that she nearly knocked him down.
She dared him to hang her; and in order to revenge herself upon
him, and cheat him of his dues, she took off her hat, cloak and
other parts of her dress, and disposed of them among the crowd.
After much resistance he got the rope about her neck, which she
had no sooner found accomplished than, pulling out a hand
kerchief, she bound it round her head and over her face, and threw
herself out of the cart, before the signal was given, with such
violence that she broke her neck and died instantly.

This extraordinary and unprecedented scene occurred on
the 4th of May, 1763.



THOMAS WATKINS
Executed in the Market-Place of Windsor, 7th of March, 1764, for
Murder

THIS hardened villain was nearly sixty years of age when
he committed, with aggravated cruelty, the foul crime for which he
most justly underwent the sentence of the law.

Two maiden ladies of fortune, of the name of Hammersley,
resided near Windsor. On the night of the 4th of February some
ruffians broke into their house with such caution that they took the
ladies' pockets from under their pillows while the owners were
asleep. A maid-servant, who it was supposed had been alarmed,
was murdered by them before they quitted the house.

The struggles of the poor woman awoke the ladies. They
called, but getting no answer they got up, and procured a light, and,
to their horror, found the dead body of their faithful servant, with a
handkerchief crammed into her mouth, a cord tightly twisted round
her neck, and her head forced between her legs, and tied to the foot
of the bedstead.

A reward of fifty pounds being offered for the
apprehension and conviction of the murderer, Thomas Watkins, by
trade a gardener, was taken up on suspicion, and committed to
Reading Jail.

His trial occupied eight hours, during which the hardened
wretch behaved with great resolution, asked the witness many
questions, and asserted his innocence in the strongest terms.
Though no absolute proof could be adduced of his having
committed the murder, a great number of concurring circumstances
rendered his guilt clear to the jury, who, with little deliberation,
found him guilty, and he received sentence of death.

He was carried in a post-chaise from Reading to Windsor,
where the murder was committed, accompanied by the
executioner, the under-sheriff and his javelin-men. His body was
afterwards hung in chains.



WILLIAM CORBETT
An American, executed at Tyburn, 4th of April, 1764, for the
Murder of his Landlord and his Family

THIS man of blood was born in Portsmouth, in New
Hampshire, and bred a shipwright. His mother dying when he was
very young, he ran away to Connecticut, in New England, where
he entered on board a sloop, and made two or three voyages; but
not living so well as he expected on board the ship, he deserted.
When he came to Boston he contracted himself with a gentleman
who dealt in lumber, which he sent in vessels to the West Indies;
and Corbett made several voyages in his service, but was so
addicted to drinking and theft that he received frequent correction
for those vices.

At length he sailed to Newfoundland with one Captain
Warton, and as he was a good ship-carpenter he might have been
happy in his situation, but his irregularities obliged the Captain to
dismiss him. Then he procured employment in repairing fishing-
boats and other craft; but, spending his earnings in great
extravagance, he involved himself in debt, which obliged him to
embark on board a ship for Barbados, to avoid prison.

Then he sailed to several parts of North America, and at
length settled at Halifax, in Nova Scotia; after which he sailed to
England, and associated with the worst of company in Wapping
and Rotherhithe, which tended still further to debauch a mind
already much depraved.

A few weeks before Corbett committed the crime for which
he suffered he took lodgings at the house of Mr Knight, a publican
at Rotherhithe. He had not been long in the family, which
consisted only of the man, his wife and the maid-servant, before he
resolved on the murder of them all; but the maid-servant escaped
his fury.

At the Surrey Assizes in 1764 William Corbett was
indicted for the murder of Henry Knight and Anne, his wife, by
cutting their throats; and was again indicted, on the coroner's
inquest, for the said murder; and a third time, for robbing the
house. He was found guilty on his own confession and a variety of
collateral evidence.

After having committed the murder he rifled the house of
money, and even put on some of Mr Knight's linen and other
clothes. He then went to Billingsgate, where he was apprehended.
After conviction he acknowledged that he endeavoured to set fire
to Mr Knight's house.

On the day of execution he was conveyed to Kennington
Common, where he again acknowledged his guilt, and, having
spent about a quarter of an hour in devotion, underwent the
sentence of the law, and was hung in chains on the road between
Rotherhithe and Deptford.



MAJOR COLIN CAMPBELL,
Cashiered for the murder of Captain M'Kaarg, 1764

COLIN CAMPBELL was major-commandant of the hundredth
regiment of foot when that corps was quartered in the island of
Jersey, from whence it embarked for Marttinique. Among the
officers in this regiment was Captain M'Kaarg, who had so far
embezzled the money he received to pay his company, that the
men were starving in the streets of St. Hillary, in Jersey, and was
himself so greatly involved in debt, that he took methods to elude
the payment of what he owed so unbecoming an officer and a
gentleman, that the secretary at war acquainted Major Campbell,
by letter, that, if he did not find means to satisfy his creditors, he
should be obliged to lay his case before his majesty.

Upon receipt of this letter the major, with the advice of the
commander-in-chief at Jersey, who had before sent to inform him
that M'Kaarg's men were begging in the streets, took the payment
of his company out of his hands.

This necessary step of his commander M'Kaarg, in his mind,
resented, but he apparently lived with him upon amicable terms;
and, when the troops were embarking at Jersey, his necessities
became so pressing, that he could not proceed on his voyage
without pecuniary assistance, which in vain he endeavoured to
obtain from the paymaster and several other officers. He then
applied to Major Campbell; and through him alone he was enabled
to head his company on board the transports, without which he
must have staid behind.

Generous actions we every day see ill requited in civil society. Do
a good turn, and, unless you follow it up by acceding to
extravagant demands, you will too often he treated with
ingratitude. Resentment follows, and the donor is often impelled to
violence upon the ingrate.

M'Kaarg aspersed the character of his benefactor; and the major
resorted to unjustifiable resentment. He, however, first sent the
following letter to the man  whom he was assured had treated him
with dishonour and ingratitude:--

'Sir,
	'I am this moment informed that on some occasions you
have taken liberties with my character unbecoming an officer and a
gentleman. I desire an immediate and explicit answer, per bearer;
and am, till then,
'Your humble servant,
'C. CAMPBELL.'


To this letter he received the following answer--

'Sir,
	'I have just now received yours, and have taken no liberties
with your character but what I am able to answer for.
	'Your's, &c.
	'J. M'KAARG'


The moment the major received this answer he went, with a
bayonet by his side, and a drawn sword in his hand, to Captain
M'Kaarg's tent; and his rashness was the cause of his disgrace.
Hence let officers learn to moderate their passions, and to seek
lawful reparation for injuries.

At the court-martial held on Major Campbell it was proved that,
thus armed, he assailed the tent of Captain M'Kaarg, which he
entered, and said to him, 'You have aspersed my character -- turn
out.' The captain replied that 'he had no small sword.' Then the
major ordered him to turn out as he was: a struggling then ensued,
and they came out of the tent. Again they struggled, and both fell
to the ground; in which M'Kaarg was run through the body. When
both were down Major Campbell said, 'Beg your life, or you are a
dead man;' to which the captain replied I do beg my life:' and then
he exclaimed 'I am a dead man!' -- The major then got up, and
ordered a surgeon to be sent for; but the wound proved mortal, and
the captain soon expired.

This was the substance of the charge against Major Campbell. In
his defence he attempted to prove that Captain M'Kaarg was
armed, which the Court gave no credit to, pronouncing the
following curious sentence:--

'The Court, on due consideration of the whole matter before them,
are of opinion that Major Colin Campbell is guilty of the crime laid
to his charge; but there not being a majority of voices sufficient to
punish with death as required by the articles of war, the Court doth
adjudge the said major-commandant Colin Campbell to be
cashiered for the same; and it is the further opinion of the Court he
is incapable of serving his majesty in any military employment
whatever.'

We have called this a curious sentence, because, if there was not a
majority of the Court sufficient to punish with death, how could
there be a majority sufficient to find him guilty of a crime by
which he became liable to suffer death? The law requires, in
capital cases, that three-fourths of the members of a court-martial
must agree in opinion to find the party guilty. This Court declares
that it did find him guilty, but could not punish him equal to his
offence. If three-fourths had found him guilty, they would surely
have been sufficient to punish adequately to the guilt found; but, as
three-fourths did not find him capitally guilty, the Court could not
be competent to inflict any kind of punishment. On the contrary,
upon the very face of their opinion and sentence, however guilty,
in fact, ha might have been, he was entitled to an acquittal in point
of law.

Major Campbell taking offence at the conduct, during this trial, of
General Monkton, under whom the island of Martinique had been
captured, brought the following charge against that gallant general,
before a court-martial at the horse Guards, on the 14th of April,
1764:--

'For many wrongs and deliberate acts of oppression towards the
said Cohn Campbell, when under his command, in the island of
Martinique, in the year 1762, particularly by several acts of affront 
and indignity, both in the person of the said Colin Campbell, and
the corps then under his command; and also, whilst a trial was
pending on a charge exhibited against the said Colin Campbell
before a general court martial, by discouraging his friends,
intimidating his witnesses, and depriving him of the lawful means
of defence, as well as by suppressing the proceedings of the said
general court-martial from the Earl of Albemarle, lieutenant-
general of his majesty's forces, under a pretence of the said
proceedings having been transmitted to Great Britain, when, in
truth, they were still in his own custody; and, furthermore, by a
cruel confinement of the said Colin Campbell, who was then ill, in
a noisome unhealthy prison, even though it was at that time known
to the said Major-general Monkton that the sentence against the
said Colin Campbell was not capital.'

The opinion of the Court on the trial of this victorious general was
pronounced by the president in these words: 'The Court is of
opinion that the charge and complaint of Colin Campbell, Esq.
against Major-general Robert Monkton is altogether unsupported
by evidence, and, in some points, extremely contradicted by the
complainant's own witnesses, and doth hereby most honourably
acquit the said Major-general Robert Monkton of the same, and
every part thereof; and the Court is further of opinion that the said
charge and complaint is groundless, malicious, and scandalous, in
the highest degree; and tending not only to injure the said major-
general's character, but to hurt the service in general, as it must
greatly affect every officer, who may have the honour of
commanding a body of his majesty's troops, when he reflects that
his character and reputation are liable to he thus publicly attacked
by a person who has been dismissed his majesty's service with
ignominy.'




JOHN WESKET AND JOHN COOPER
The Former was executed at Tyburn, 9th of January, 1765, for
robbing his Master, the Earl of Harrington; and the Latter
transported for Fourteen Years for receiving Stolen Goods

JOHN WESKET had been for many years a gentleman's
servant, and had pilfered from several of his employers. In
company with one Bradley he robbed the house of a gentleman in
Hatton Garden, and also the chambers of Mr Montague, a Master
in Chancery.

Wesket was engaged as a porter to Lord Harrington in the
year 1762, but continued his acquaintance with Bradley, and was
likewise intimate with Cooper, who kept a chandler's shop in Little
Turnstile, at whose house Bradley lodged; and both these men
visited Wesket at his new place.

Wesket having formed a plan for robbing his noble master
imparted his design to the other two. He and Bradley agreed to
commit the robbery on the following Saturday night, when Lord
and Lady Harrington were going to the opera, which would give
Wesket an opportunity of concealing his accomplice in the house.
Wesket secreted Bradley in his chamber, and told him to remain
there till about midnight, when he would come to him.

Lord Harrington and his lady came from the opera about
twelve at night, and less than two hours afterwards, when all the
family were quiet, Wesket went to his accomplice and took him
into the kitchen, where an impression from Bradley's dirty shoes
was made on the dresser, and they then made a similar impression
in the area, first leaving the kitchen window open, as an intimation
that the robber had gone off that way.

They now went into the study, where they lighted a candle;
and Wesket having forced open the bureau, by means of a gimlet
and chisel, they took out notes, jewels and money, to the amount of
two thousand pounds, all which Wesket assigned to the care of
Bradley, bidding him carry the booty to Cooper, and then let him
out at the street door and went to bed.

When Lord Harrington went into his study he discovered
the depredation that had been made on his property, whereupon a
strict search was made through the house, to find which way the
thief had escaped; and then it was that the impression of Bradley's
shoes was noticed on the dresser and in the area. But, as it was
observed that no footsteps appeared except in the kitchen and area,
it was presumed that some person within the house had committed
the robbery.

The chisel, gimlet and tinder-box were found by the
steward, who interrogated Wesket respecting the robbery. Some
suspicion arising that he had a concern in it, Lord Harrington sent
for a magistrate, who questioned all the servants in the strictest
manner; and Wesket, in whose pocket ten guineas were found, was
turned away, on the presumption of his guilt, as nothing arose that
could justify the magistrate in committing him to prison.

He was no sooner dismissed than he went into one of the
boxes at Covent Garden Theatre, when Bradley, happening to see
him from the gallery, waited for him at the playhouse door, after
the entertainment was over. Wesket having informed his
companion of what had passed since the robbery, Bradley told him
what booty had been obtained, and desired him to come to
Cooper's and inspect it. They accordingly met on the following
day, when Bradley, representing the danger of trying to put off the
notes in London, proposed to attempt doing it at Chester Fair. This
being agreed to, Bradley went to the fair, where he purchased a
quantity of linen, for which he paid the notes to the Irish dealers,
and received the balance in cash. The Earl of Harrington having
kept the number of one of the notes of which he had been robbed,
it was carried to the bank, where the payment of it was stopped,
and it was traced through the hands of many persons to those of Mr
Smith, a Liverpool merchant, who said he took it of Mr Breath, a
linen factor, at Newry, in Ireland. Mr Breath being written to, his
answer was that he received it of a person at Chester Fair, who said
his name was Walker, and was dressed like a gentleman, but had
nothing in his behaviour that could warrant his assuming that title.

On this Lord Harrington's steward went to Chester to
endeavour to learn where the supposed Walker had lodged during
the fair; which he found to have been at the house of a shoemaker
named Rippington. He learned further that Walker had set out for
London in a post-chaise, and on his arrival in the metropolis had
written a letter desiring that a pocket-book, which he had left
behind him, might be sent to the St Clement's Coffee-House, in the
Strand.

The steward received this letter, and brought it to London
and delivered it to Sir John Fielding, when it was discovered to be
Bradley's writing. Thereupon the active magistrate above
mentioned caused several persons to attend at the coffee-house; but
no discovery arose from this diligence.

Bradley's person was immediately described in handbills,
which were circulated through the kingdom, and a reward was
offered for taking him. At this juncture a hackney-coachman
declared in a public-house that in his hayloft was a large chest
belonging to one Bradley, and that Cooper had delivered the chest
to his care; but he knew not its contents. On this Cooper was sent
for to Sir John Fielding's; and, strong suspicions of the guilt both
of him and Wesket arising, they were committed to Newgate for
trial.

In a few days Bradley was found, dressed in seaman's
apparel, at a public-house in Wapping, and, being conducted to
Bow Street, he made such a declaration respecting the robbery that
Sir John Fielding thought proper to admit him an evidence against
the other parties.

At the next sessions at the Old Bailey, Wesket and Cooper
were brought to trial, when the former was capitally convicted for
the burglary, and sentenced to die; and Cooper was sentenced to be
transported for fourteen years, as the receiver of stolen effects.



BARNEY CARROL AND WILLIAM KING
Convicted under the Coventry Act for cutting and maiming, and
executed at Tyburn, 31st of July, 1765

BY an Act of Parliament passed in the 22nd and 23rd of
King Charles II. it was enacted that: "If any person, on purpose,
and by malice aforethought, and by lying in wait, shall unlawfully
cut or disable the tongue, put out an eye, slit the nose, cut off a
nose or lip, or cut off or disable any limb or member of any
subject, with intention in so doing to maim or disfigure him; the
person so offending, his counsellors, aiders, abettors (knowing of,
and privy to, the offence), shall be guilty of felony, without benefit
of clergy."

This Act was called the Coventry Act, because it was made
on Sir John Coventry's being assaulted in the street and having his
nose slit.

Carrol and King had both been soldiers, and as such
behaved unexceptionably, particularly at the siege of Havana,
where Carrol was distinguished by his bravery; but on their return
to England they determined to commence as robbers, and this on a
plan attended with the most infernal cruelty.

They procured two boys, named Byfield and Matthews,
who were to pick pockets, and if they were seized the men were to
procure their release by cutting the parties who held them across
their faces with a knife.

Carrol having sharpened his weapon of destruction, they all
went out together on the night of the 17th of June, 1765, and,
continuing their route from Covent Garden to the Strand, saw a
gentleman, named Kirby, near Somerset House, who was walking
very slow, on account of the heat of the weather, which made them
think him a proper object of attack.

On this Carrol directed Byfield to pick the gentleman's
pocket. Byfield had got his hand in the pocket, when Mr Kirby
seized him and threatened to carry him before a magistrate, but
only to terrify him from such practices for the future.

On this the other three villains followed Mr Kirby so
closely that he suspected their connection; but he still held the boy,
to frighten him the more, though he observed Carrol sometimes
before and sometimes behind him. At length the villain came so
near that the boy cried out, "Keep off; the gentleman will let me
go!" when Carrol replied, "Damn him, but I will cut him!"

Mr Kirby now felt great pain, but had no idea that he had
been wounded by any sharp instrument, apprehending that his pain
proceeded only from a common blow. At length he found a defect
in his sight, and presumed that dust had been thrown in his eyes;
but on putting his hand to his face he found that it streamed with
blood.

Going to the Crown and Anchor tavern, in the Strand, Mr
Ingram, a surgeon of eminence, almost immediately attended him;
but, though the utmost expedition was used in calling in the
assistance of that gentleman, Mr Kirby had lost nearly two quarts
of blood in the short interval. On examination it appeared that the
wound had been given in a transverse direction, from the right eye
to the left temple; that two large vessels were divided by it; that
there was a cut across the nose, which left the bone visible; and
that the eyeballs must have been divided by the slightest deviation
from the stroke.

The abominable assassins were very soon apprehended,
found guilty, and hanged, amid the execrations of an offended
multitude.


PATRICK OGILVIE AND CATHARINE NAIRN
Convicted of Murder. Ogilvie hanged 13th November, 1765, but
Nairn escaped from custody.

As the case of these malefactors made a great noise in the world at
and after the commission of the crime, we shall be the more careful
to give all the particulars of it.

At East Miln, in the county of Forfar, in Scotland, lived Mr.
Thomas Ogilvie, a man of moderate fortune, whose life was of the
domestic kind, with his mother, till he was about forty years of
age, when he married Catharine, the beautiful daughter of Sir
Thomas Nairn, of Dunsinan, on the 31st of January, 1765, the
young lady being then about twenty-one years of age.

(It may be proper to observe that in Scotland women are
sometimes called by their maiden names after marriage. Hence this
unhappy woman is called Nairn instead of Ogilvie.)

Patrick Ogilvie, the brother of Thomas, having served as a
lieutenant in the East Indies, returned to Scotland soon after the
celebration of the nuptials, and went to congratulate his brother on
the occasion.

From this visit arose all that scene of distress which gives rise to
the following narrative; for Patrick having beheld his sister with
eyes of unwarrantable love, they were seen within three weeks
after the wedding, by the servants, walking in the fields with too
great familiarity, and kissing each other with all the fondness of
enraptured lovers.

Soon afterwards Anne Clarke, a kinswoman of Mr. Ogilvie, paying
a visit in the family, remarked a great intimacy between the lovers,
who frequently went to bed together without the precaution of
shutting the chamber-door. Mrs. Clarke remarked on the
scandalous impropriety of the lady's conduct; but, so far from
blushing at it, she boasted of her love for her brother-in-law, with
whom she said she would abscond, or otherwise give a dose to her
husband, whom she detested.

Mr. Ogilvie the elder was of so pacific a disposition, that, though
the criminal conversation became every day more conspicuous, he
contented himself with representing to his brother how much he
dishonoured the family by so sinful a practice; but he did not even
forbid him the house.

At length he paid the lieutenant a sum of money bequeathed him
by his father; and then Patrick departed, to take the diversions of
the country: but he still corresponded with his sister-in-law; and
they left letters for each other under a stone, and even occasionally
met together in the fields.

When this was known, the injured husband, so far from resenting
the conduct of his brother, wrote to him, expressing his inclination
to bequeath him both his wife and the principal part of his estate,
saying he would consult his own peace of mind in retirement: he
even entreated him to return, adding 'My wife cannot be happy
without you.'

Mrs. Nairn had, in the mean time, written to Patrick Ogilvie to
send her some poison; and accordingly he sent her some white
arsenic, under the name of salts,for her use.

Mrs. Clarke, above mentioned, no sooner heard that the packet was
arrived, than she cautioned Mr. Ogilvie not to drink any thing
given him by his wife, unless she first partook of it: but this
precaution proved fruitless; for the unhappy man being ill one
morning, his wife conveyed a quantity of the arsenic into a basin of
tea which the maid-servant was carrying to him; and then the base
woman waited at his bed-side while he drank it.

The most excruciating pains in his bowels, accompanied with a
violent retching, was the consequence of this draught, and at nine
at night Mr. Ogilvie expired in the greatest agony, after a marriage
of little more than four months, during which he scarcely enjoyed
one happy day.

His brother now gave directions respecting the funeral; but, in the
mean time, Mrs. Clarke wrote to a younger brother of thedeceased,
who was then a student at Edinburgh, intimating her suspicions
that Mr. Ogilvie had been poisoned. Hereupon the young
gentleman set out for East Miln, being determined to inquire into
the real state of the case. He took with him the under-sheriff of the 
county, and two surgeons. The under-sheriff recommended
opening the body of the deceased; but, as he had been dead six
days, and as it was now the middle of June, and the weather
intensely hot, this was opposed by the surgeons, lest some noisome
effluvia should arise from the body.

The presumed murderers were now taken into custody, and
committed to the prison of Forfar, whence they were removed to
Edinburgh, to take their trials in the High Court of Justiciary. Mrs.
Clarke had concealed herself from the time that the murder was
committed; but on the 3d of August, 1765, she went to Edinburgh,
and surrendered her self to the lord-advocate, as the trials of the
offenders were to commence on the Monday following. Here upon
his lordship committed her, and two women-servants of the
deceased, to the Castle, that there might be no obstruction to the
course of public justice.

The prisoners being brought into court on the appointed day, a
copy of their indictments, with a list of the jury and witnesses, was
respectively delivered to them; and then the Court was adjourned
to the 12th of the same month, at eight in the morning.

In the interim the counsel for the prisoners petitioned the Court
that Anne Clarke might be removed from her usual place of
confinement with the servant-maids, lest she should prevail on
them to perjure themselves, to the prejudice of the prisoners.

The Court granted the prayer of this petition; and Mrs. Clarke was
removed into another room: but Lord George Beauclerk, the then
commander-in-chief of the forces in North Britain, caused her to
be conveyed to her former place of confinement, on an information
that the room in which the governor of the castle had placed her
was not secure enough to prevent her escape.

Complaint of this procedure being made by the counsel for the
prisoner, Lord George insisted that it was his duty to prevent the
escape of the evidence, notwithstanding any order of Court.

The trial was at length proceeded upon on Monday, the 12th of
August, and continued without inter mission till three o'clock on
the Wednesday morning, when the jury retired, and at four in the
afternoon of that day gave their verdict that the prisoners were both
guilty.

The lord-advocate now demanded that judgment should be passed
on them; but this was opposed by their counsel, who urged that
there were several informalities in the trial, which would destroy
the force of the verdict, as they were incompatible with the
principles of the laws of Scotland.

On this a debate ensued, which continued near five hours, when
the Lord Justice Clerk declared that, unless a special plea was
stated in arrest of judgment, he would pronounce sentence against
the prisoners.

Hereupon it was agreed that, on the following day, at eleven
o'clock, the arguments in writing should be delivered into court;
and, when that was done, a farther argument of six hours ensued
thereon.

The counsel for the prisoners, having at length no other plea left to
urge, hinted that Mrs. Nairn was with child, but did not pretend to
say how far she might be advanced in her pregnancy.

On this sentence of death was passed against Patrick Ogilvie, to be
executed on the 25th of September, in the Grass Market,
Edinburgh; and Mrs. Nairn being remanded to prison, orders were
given for a jury of matrons to be summoned on the following day,
to inquire into her real situation.

The Court being once more assembled, the matrons were sworn,
and retired; and, on their return, declared that they could not
determine whether she was pregnant or not. On this the judgment
against her was suspended till November; and the matrons were
directed to visit her frequently in the interval.

The utmost interest of the relations of the convicts was now
exerted to prevent the disgrace of a public execution, by procuring
a reprieve for Mr. Ogilvie, who constantly asserted his innocence
respecting the death of his brother.

Such diligence was used in this matter, that Counsellor M'Carty
was heard in h is behalf before the king in council, where he
contended for a right of appealing from the decision of the Court of
Justiciary to the House of Lords.

The lord-advocate of Scotland, in reply hereto, insisted that the
determination of the Court of Justiciary must be final, as it was a
criminal court, in which the prisoner had been tried and convicted
by a jury of his countrymen. He referred to the 19th article of the
Act of Union, by which the Court of Justiciary was established.

The matter having been maturely considered, Mr. Ogilvie was left
to suffer the sentence of the law.

The day before his death he was attended by two clergymen, and
several of his friends, to whom he made a solemn avowal of his
innocence of the facts alleged against him, and thought that his
brother, who had undertaken the prosecution, had behaved in a
manner undeservedly rigorous; yet he declared that he should die
in perfect charity with all mankind.

At the place of execution he made an address to the populace, still
asserting his innocence; and, as soon as he had concluded his
devotions, he was turned off, amidst an immense concourse of
people. No sooner was he turned off, than, the rope slipping, he
dropped to the ground; but, being immediately tied up again, he
said aloud, ' I adhere to my former confession, and die an innocent
man.' This being said, he was executed, and his body delivered to a
surgeon for dissection.

This unhappy man suffered in the Grass Market at Edinburgh on
the 13th of November, 1765.

Mrs. Nairn having remained in custody till November, it then
appeared that she was pregnant, on which she was respited till the
time when she should be brought to bed, which was in the month
of January, 1766.

After she had been delivered a month an order was issued for her
execution; but, a short time before this event would have taken
place, she escaped from the prison at nine at night, in the uniform
of an officer; and an old footman, who had lived in her father's
family, being waiting for her with a post-chaise, they set oft
together.

Mrs. Nairn was not missed till near noon on the following day; and
persons were sent express to reapprehend her; but she had arrived
in London before them.

She now engaged the master of a Dutch fishing-smack to convey
her to Holland for fifty guineas; but the wind blew with such
violence that he was obliged to land her on the Kentish shore,
whence she travelled to Dover, attended by her faithful servant.
They immediately got on board the packet-boat bound for Calais;
and no authentic accounts respecting her have transpired since that
period.

Such were the different fates of two people, who, as far as we can
judge of the affair, appear to have been involved in the same crime.
The one dies, avowing his perfect innocence; the other escapes the
immediate stroke of justice, which was suspended over her by the
most slender thread.

Mysterious are the ways of Providence, and, in the language of
Scripture, 'past finding out;' but it is for mortals humbly to submit
to all its dispensations.

One pertinent remark will naturally arise on this occasion, viz, the
absurdity of disproportionate marriages. Mr. Thomas Ogilvie was
nearly twice the age of his wife, and had therefore much the less
chance of happiness with her.

The bond of marriage will be frequently found to be a rope of sand
where fortune is made the sole consideration on either side, and
where unity of mind, and a tolerable equality in aged are not
consulted.

We make this remark for the sake of those parents who may be
tempted to compel their children to unequal marriages on the idea
that riches alone can bestow that happiness which must generally,
if not always, depend on consent of mind.




PETER M'KINLIE, GEORGE GIDLEY, ANDREW
ZEKERMAN, AND RICHARD ST. QUINTIN
Executed for Piracy and Murder, December 19th, 1765

BEFORE we enter upon the bloody deeds of these inhuman
monsters, we shall present our readers with an account of the cruel
fortune of Captain Glass, who had fought against the enemies of
his country; and, after undergoing from them a long series of cruel
treatment, at length fell a victim to the abominable cruelty of the
pirates above named.

This unfortunate man was the son of the Reverend Mr.
John Glass, a minister of the Church of Scotland, who in several
publications zealously opposed the practice of religion according
to particular forms. The adherents to his religious opinions
obtained the appellation of Glassites; and his doctrines being first
propagated in England by Mr. Sandeman, his son-in-law, those
who adopted them were called Sandemanians. At a very early
period young Mr. Glass afforded strong proof of an acute and
penetrating understanding, greatly beyond what could be
reasonably expected at his tender years. After the fine genius of
this promising youth had received some cultivation at a respectable
grammar-school, he was removed to the University, where he
attained to a great proficiency in the sciences. Having taken up the
degree of Master of Arts, he applied himself to the study of physic
and surgery, in which he made a rapid progress. He afterwards
engaged as a surgeon on board a trading vessel bound to the coast
of Guinea; and in that capacity made several voyages to America.
His superior qualifications gained him a distinguished place in the
esteem of several capital merchants, who intrusted to him the
command of a vessel in the Guinea trade; and his conduct proved
highly to the advantage of his owners, and equally honourable to
himself.

When the war against France was declared, Captain Glass,
upon the minute review of his affairs, found himself in possession
of a very considerable sum; a great part of which he determined to
venture on board a privateer. He caused a vessel to be fitted out
with all possible expedition, and took the command on himself. A
mutiny happened among the sailors when they had been on board
about three days; and news of this disagreeable circumstance being
communicated to the captain, he hastened to the vessel, and, going
upon deck, dared to single combat any man who should presume to
dispute his authority; but his challenge was declined! and, by
coolly representing the dangerous consequences that might result
from such unjustiflable proceedings, exhorting them to an exact
observance of necesssary discipline, and assuring them that his
utmost endeav ours should be exerted to procure them satisfaction
in every particular, the harmony and good understanding of his
crew were restored; and in a short time after the vessel proceeded
on her voyage.

In about ten days they made a prize of a ship, richly laden,
belonging to France, which they carried into a port in the West
Indies. They soon after engaged two ships of war, but, after an
obstinate contest, were compel led to submit to the superior power
of the enemy. The captain, however, did not strike his flag till he
had received a dangerous wound on the shoulder, and the greatest
part of his men were slain. He was put into one of the French
prisons, where he experienced very severe treatment. 	An
exchange of prisoners taking place, Captain Glass was no sooner
restored to freedom than he resolved to make a reserve of two
thousand pounds, and to venture the remainder of his fortune on
board a privateer. He had sailed in his second vessel but a short
time when he was again conquered by the enemy, and conveyed to
a French prison. Captain Glass, on his return to England, was
esteemed one of the most expert, judicious, and intrepid seamen in
the British navy. The war being concluded, he conceived a design
of sailing in search of discoveries; and, in pursuance of this plan,
he purchased a vessel adapted to his purpose; and, having carefully
made every necessary preparation for the prosecution of his design,
directed his course towards the coast of Africa.

Between the river Senegal and Cape de Verde he
discovered a commodious harbour, from which circumstance he
entertained the reasonable expectation that very great commercial
advantages would be derived. The captain now returned to
England, and communicated his discovery to government, who
granted him an exclusive trade to the harbour for the space of
twenty years. That he might be enabled to pursue his project with
the greater advantage, he engaged in partnership with two or three
gentlemen of fortune; and a vessel, furnished with all necessary
articles, being prepared, he sailed for the harbour, where he arrived
without meeting with any occurrences worthy of recording. He
sent one of his men on shore, with orders for offering proposals for
a commercial intercourse with the natives; but the messenger had
no sooner landed than he was cruelly murdered by the barbarians.
The captain now suggested a plan for informing the king of the
country that, by opening a trade, his subjects would derive great
advantages. The king affected the utmost willingness to comply
with his proposals; but, under the appearance of friendship,
endeavored to effect his destruction. Having failed in other
treacherous schemes, he sent poisoned provisions to Captain Glass,
who prudently made experiments upon them, and by that means
preserved his life. Being in great distress for the necessaries of life,
Captain Glass and three of his men ventured to sea in an open boat,
intending to direct their course towards the Canaries, for the
purpose of purchasing provisions. The natives, being apprized of
their departure, attempted to plunder the ship; but they were
effectually repulsed by the remaining part of the crew.

The men who continued in the vessel being extremely
distressed, judging that it would be dangerous to remain longer in 
the harbour, and despairing of their captain's re turn so early as was
expected, they sailed for England, where they arrived, after
encountering a variety of dangers, difficulties, and distresses.
Captain Glass arrived at one of the Canary Islands, and presented a
petition to the governor, supplicating permission to purchase
provisions; but the inhuman Spaniard caused him to be
apprehended as a spy, and ordered him to be confined in a noisome
dungeon, where he was allowed no other sustenance than bread
and water; and, to aggravate his distress, the barbarous tyrant
denied him the use of pen, ink, and paper. In this unhappy situation
the captain remained upwards of six months. At length he climbed
up to the iron bars that were across the space for admitting light to
the dungeon, and perceived an English vessel in the harbour. The
sight of a vessel belonging to his native country inspired him with
hopes of regaining his liberty; but his despair was re newed upon
considering the apparent impossibility of making his miserable fate
known to those who would be inclined to afford him relief. At
length he adopted the following experiment:-- by means of a
piece of charcoal he wrote his name, and some words intimating
his distress, upon a biscuit, which he fortunately dropped from the
grate of the dungeon at the moment when an English sailor was
passing beneath. The man, observing the captain's name upon the
biscuit, carried it to his commander, who immediately made
application to the governor for the relief of his countryman. In
consequence of this humane intercession, the cruel and tyrannical
Spaniard subjected the petitioner to severity of treatment equal to
that sustained by Captain Glass. A ship that soon afterwards sailed
for England conveyed news to our ministry of the arbitrary and
barbarous conduct of the governor; and, speedy application being
made to the King of Spain, he issued an order for the release of the
two captains. About the time that Captain Glass recovered his
freedom, his wife and daughter, a young lady about twelve years
old, remarkable for her beauty and fine accomplishments, arrived
at the Canaries, on board a ship from London; and their first
interview with him afforded a scene truly affecting. Captain Glass
now embarked, with his wife and daughter, on board a ship bound
to London, under the command of Captain Cockeran.

While the ship lay at the Canaries, a plot was concerted
between Peter M'Kinlie, the boatswain, a native of Ireland; George
Gidley, the cook, born in the west of Yorkshire; Richard St.
Quintin, a native of the same country; and Andrew Zekerman, a
Dutchman -- for murdering all the other persons on hoard, and
seizing the treasure, which, including what Captain Glass had
shipped in behalf of him self and his partners, amounted to a
hundred thousand pounds in dollars. The villains made three
attempts on different nights to carry their horrid plan into
execution, but were prevented through the circumspection of their
commander. The conspirators were appointed to the night-watch
on the 13th of November, when the ship had reached the British
Channel; and, about midnight, the captain going upon the quarter
deck to see that all things were disposed in proper order, he, upon
his return, was seized by the boatswain, who held him while
Gidley struck him with an iron bar, and fractured his skull, after
which they threw him into the sea. Two of the seamen, who were
not concerned in the conspiracy, hearing the captain's groans, came
upon deck, and were immediately murdered and thrown overboard.

Captain Glass, being alarmed, went up the gangway, and
judging that a mutiny had happened, returned to fetch his sword.
M'Kinlie, guessing his design, followed him down the steps
leading to the cabin, and waited in the dark till the captain returned
with a drawn sword in his hand, when, getting unperceived behind
him, he seized both his arms, and then called to his accomplices to
murder him. Captain Glass, being a very powerful man, had nearly
disengaged himself from the ruffian, when Zekerman came up,
whom the captain wounded in the arm; but before he could recover
his sword he was overpowered, the other villains soon joining their
associates. The unhappy man was no sooner disarmed than he was
many times run through the body; after which he was thrown
overboard.

Mrs. Glass and her daughter now came on deck, and,
falling on their knees, supplicated for mercy; but they found the
villains utterly destitute of the tender feelings of humanity; and
Zekerman telling them to prepare for death, they embraced each
other in a most affectionate manner, and were then forced from
each other's arms and thrown into the sea. Having put all the crew
to death, excepting a boy who had attended Captain Glass, and
another boy who was an apprentice on board the ship, the
murderers steered towards the Irish coast, and on the 3rd of
December found them selves within ten leagues of the harbour of
Ross. They hoisted out the long-boat, and put into it dollars to the
amount of two tons; and, after knocking out the windows of the
ballast ports, rowed towards shore, leaving the two boys to sink
with the vessel. Captain Glass's boy could not swim, and he
therefore soon drowned; but the other lad swam to the boat, when
Zekerman struck him a violent blow on the breast, which
occasioned him immediately to sink.

Having thus massacred eight innocent persons, the villains
proceeded to the mouth of the river Ross; but, thinking it would be
dangerous to go up the river with so much riches, they buried two
hundred and fifty bags of dollars in the sand, and conveyed as
much treasure as they could possibly bear about their persons to a
village called Fishertown, where they stopped for refreshment;
and, during their regale, an Irishman privately robbed them of a
bag containing twelve hundred dollars. On the following day they
went to Ross, and there sold twelve hundred dollars. Having
purchased each a pair of pistols, and hired horses for themselves
and two guides, they rode to Dublin, and took up their residence at
the Black Bull, in Thomas Street.

The wreck of the ship was driven on shore on the day of
their leaving Ross; and the manner in which the villains had lived
at Fishertown and Ross, their general behaviour, and other
circumstances, being understood as grounds for suspicion of their
being pirates, an express was dispatched by two gentlemen to the
lords of the regency at Dublin, exhibiting the several causes of
suspicion, and giving a particular description of the supposed
delinquents. On board the wreck was found a sampler worked by
Miss Glass, from which it appeared that a part of the work was
done on her birthday, which afterwards proved to be the day
preceding on which the murders were perpetrated; and this sampler
proved a principal means of leading to a discovery of the guilt of
these abominable villains.

The gentlemen who were commissioned to attend the lords
of the regency had no sooner communicated their business than the
lord-mayor and sheriffs were sent for; and proper instructions
being given them, they on the same night caused M'Kinlie and
Zekerman to be taken into custody. The prisoners were separately
examined, and they both confessed the particulars of their guilt,
and that their accomeplices had that morning hired a post-chaise
for Cork, where they meant to embark on a vessel bound for
England. Gidley and St. Quintin were the next day taken into
custody at an inn on the road to Cork; and they followed the
example of their accomplices, in acknowledging themselves guilty.
The sheriff of Ross took possession of the effects found in the
wreck, and the bags of dollars that the villains had buried in the
sand, and deposited the whole in the treasury of Dublin, for the
benefit of the proprietors.

The prisoners being brought to trial, they confessed them
selves guilty of the charges alleged in the indictment, and they
were condemned, and suffered death, December the 19th, 1765,
after which their bodies were hung in chains in the neighbourhood
of Dublin.



WILLIAM WHITTLE
Excited by religious zeal he murdered his wife and children and
was executed April 5th, 176

THE shocking crimes of this monster in human shape show the
danger to be apprehended from religious enthusiasm.

The blood that has been shed, under the pretext of religion, in and
since the Crusades, or, as they were de nominated, the holy wars, is
greater than the torrents shed by tyrants fighting for each other's
empire.

William Whittle was a poor ignorant wretch, worked up to a state
of frenzy by the abominable doctrine of some ignorant popish
priest; for this wretched man was a Roman Catholic, and murdered
his wife and his two children!

On being interrogated, after conviction, and while under sentence
of death, as to his motive for committing such horrid deeds, he
replied that his priest often told him he should be damned for
marrying a heretic. But why murder your innocent children? To
this he answered, 'The mother had carried them to the church of the
heretics: so they would have been damned if he had not killed
them; but now they were in purgatory, and would go to heaven in
time.'

This wicked sinner, exulting in his fell deed, was executed on
Lancaster Moor, April the 5th, 1768, and his body hung in chains.

Soon after execution, the Rev. Mr. Oliver, who held it a duty to
attend the last moments of the wretched man, under the hope of
working in him contrition, and a renunciation of tenets too
dangerous to be implanted in weak minds, received the following
threatening letter, evidently the composition of one of the same
persuasion as the malefactor:--

Sir,
	I make bold to acquaint you, that your house, and every
clergyman's that's in this town (Lancaster), or any black son of a
b--h like you -- for you are nothing but heretics and damned souls --
if William Whittle, that worthy man, hangs up ten days, you may
fully expect to be blown to damnation.'



JOHN CROUCH AND WIFE
Convicted for offering to sell, on the Royal Exchange, a Young
Girl, 12th of May, 1766

ON the 15th of January, 1766, an elderly man and woman
were observed on the Royal Exchange, London, with a fine young
girl, apparently fourteen years of age, but thinly and shabbily
clothed, and consequently shivering with cold in that inclement
season of the year. It was first conceived that they were asking
charity, as the man had addressed two or three gentlemen, from
whom he received a contemptuous denial. At length he accosted an
honest captain of a ship, who instantly made known the base
proposal which had been made to him, which was to purchase the
unfortunate and innocent girl.

The parties were immediately taken into custody by the
beadles of the Exchange, and carried before the sitting magistrate
at Guildhall, who committed the man and woman to prison, as
vagrants, and ordered the girl to be taken care of in the London
Workhouse. On their examination they persisted that the girl was
their own child; but it appeared so unnatural that parents in Britain
should offer for sale their offspring that an inquiry into the
transaction was set on foot.

At the general sessions of the peace, held at Guildhall
aforesaid, on the 12th of May following, this unnatural man and
woman were brought to the bar. It appeared that the man was
named John Crouch, and that his residence was at Bodmin, in
Cornwall. The woman was his wife, and the unfortunate girl his
niece; and having heard "that young maidens were very scarce in
London, and that they sold for a good price," he took her out of the
poorhouse there and, accompanied by his wife, had set off, and
travelled on foot from Bodmin to London, two hundred and thirty-
two miles, in order to mend their fortune by her sale.

The jury found the man guilty on an indictment presented
against him for an offence far short of his crime; but considering
the woman under his influence acquitted her. The husband was
sentenced to six months' imprisonment in Newgate, and to pay a
fine of one shilling.



THE COUNTESS OF BRISTOL,OTHERWISE THE DUCHESS OF KINGSTON
Whose Trial for Bigamy, at Westminster Hall, was attended by the
Queen and other Members of the Royal Family

FEW women have attracted so large a portion of public attention
as the Countess of Bristol, otherwise the Duchess of Kingston.
She was the daughter of Colonel Chudleigh, the descendant of an
ancient family in the county of Devon; but her father dying
while she was yet young, her mother was left possessed only of a
small estate with which to bring her up, and to fit her for that
grade of society in which from her birth she was entitled to
move. Being possessed, however, of excellent qualities, she
improved the connection which she had among persons of fashion,
with a view to the future success in life of her daughter. The
latter meanwhile, as she advanced in years, improved in beauty;
and upon her attaining the age of eighteen was distinguished as
well for the loveliness of her person as for the wit and
brilliancy of her conversation. Her education had not been
neglected; and, despite the small fortune possessed by her
mother, no opportunity was lost by which her mind might be
improved, and a means was about this time afforded for the
display of her accomplishments. The father of George III. held
his Court at Leicester House; and Mr Pulteney, who then blazed
as a meteor on the Opposition benches in the House of Commons,
was honoured with the particular regard of his Royal Highness.
Miss Chudleigh had been introduced to Mr Pulteney; and he had
admired her for the beauties of her mind and of her person, and,
his sympathies being excited on her behalf, he obtained for her,
at the age of eighteen, the appointment of maid-of-honour to the
Princess of Wales. His efforts, however, did not stop at thus
elevating her to a situation of the highest honour, but he also
endeavoured to improve the cultivation of her understanding by
instruction; and to him Miss Chudleigh read, and with him, when
separated by distance, she corresponded.

The station to which Miss Chudleigh had been advanced, combined
with her numerous personal attractions, produced her many
admirers -- some with titles, and others in the expectation of
them. Among the former was the Duke of Hamilton, whom Miss
Gunning had afterwards the good fortune to obtain for a consort.
The Duke was passionately attached to Miss Chudleigh, and
pressed his suit with such ardour as to obtain a solemn
engagement on her part that, on his return from a tour, for
which he was preparing, she would become his wife. There were
reasons why this event should not immediately take place; but
that the engagement would be fulfilled at the specified time was
considered by both parties as a moral certainty. A mutual pledge
was given and accepted; the Duke commenced his proposed tour,
and the parting condition was, that he should write by every
opportunity, and that Miss Chudleigh of course should answer his
epistles. Thus the arrangement of Fortune seemed to have united
a pair who possibly might have experienced much happiness, for
between the Duke and Miss Chudleigh there was a strong
similarity of disposition, but Fate had not destined them for
each other.

Miss Chudleigh had an aunt, whose name was Hanmer: at her house
the Hon. Mr Hervey, son of the Earl of Bristol, and a captain in
the Royal Navy, was a visitor. To this gentleman Mrs Hanmer
became so exceedingly partial that she favoured views which he
entertained towards her niece, and engaged her efforts to
effect, if possible, a matrimonial connection. There were two
difficulties, which would have been insurmountable had they not
been opposed by the fertile genius of a female -- Miss Chudleigh
disliked Captain Hervey, and she was betrothed to the Duke of
Hamilton.

No exertions which could possibly be made were spared to render
this latter alliance nugatory; and the wits of this woman were
exerted to the utmost to favour the object which she had in
view. The letters of his Grace were intercepted by Mrs Hanmer;
and his supposed silence giving offence to her niece, she worked
so successfully on her pride as to induce her to abandon all
thoughts of her lover, whose passion she had cherished with 
delight. A conduct the reverse of that imputed to the Duke was
observed by Captain Hervey: he was all that assiduity could
dictate or attention perform. He had daily access to Miss
Chudleigh, and each interview was artfully improved by the aunt
to the promotion of her own views. The letters of his Grace of
Hamilton, which regularly arrived, were as regularly suppressed;
until, piqued beyond endurance, Miss Chudleigh was prevailed on
to accept the hand of Captain Hervey, and by a private marriage
to ensure the participation of his future honours and fortune.
The ceremony was performed in a private chapel adjoining the
country mansion of Mr Merrill, at Lainston, near Winchester, in
Hampshire.

The hour at which she became united with Captain Hervey proved
to her the origin of every subsequent unhappiness. The connubial
rites were attended with unhappy consequences; and from the
night following the day on which the marriage was solemnised
Miss Chudleigh resolved never to have any further connection
with her husband. To prevail on him not to claim her as his wife
required all the art of which she was mistress; and the best
dissuasive was the loss of her situation as maid-of-honour
should the marriage become publicly known. The circumstances of
Captain Hervey were not in a flourishing condition, and were ill
calculated to enable him to ride with a high hand over his wife;
and the fear of the loss of the emoluments of her office
operated most powerfully with him to induce him to obey the
injunctions which she imposed upon him in this respect. Her
marriage being unknown to mere outward observers, Miss
Chudleigh, or Mrs Hervey -- a maid in appearance, a wife in
disguise -- was placed in a most enviable condition. Her Royal
mistress smiled upon her; the friendship of many was at her
call; the admiration of none could be withheld from her: but
amidst all her conquests and all her fancied happiness she
wanted that peace of mind which was so necessary to support her
against the conflicts which arose in her own breast. Her
husband, quieted for a time, grew obstreperous as he saw the
jewel admired by all, which was, he felt, entitled only to his
love; and feeling that he possessed the right to her entire 
consideration resolved to assert his power. In the meantime
every art which she possessed had been put into operation to
soothe him to continued silence; but her further endeavours
being unsuccessful she was compelled to grant his request, and
to attend an interview which he appointed at his own house, and
to which he enforced obedience by threatening an instant and
full disclosure in case of her non-compliance. The meeting was
strictly private, all persons being sent from the house with the
exception of a black servant; and on Mrs Hervey's entrance to
the apartment in which her husband was seated his first care was
to prevent all intrusion by locking the door. This meeting, like
all others between her and her husband, was unfortunate in its
effects: the fruit of it was the birth of a boy, whose existence
it will be readily supposed she had much difficulty in
concealing. Her removal to Brompton for a change of air became
requisite during the term of her confinernent, and she returned
to Leicester House perfectly recovered from her indisposition;
but the infant soon sinking in the arms of death, left only the
tale of its existence to be related.

In the meantime the sum of her unhappiness had been completed by
the return of the Duke of Hamilton. His Grace had no sooner
arrived in England than he hastened to pay his adoration at the
feet of his idol, and to learn the cause of her silence when his
letters had been regularly dispatched to her. An interview which
took place soon set the character of Mrs Hanmer in its true
light; but while Miss Chudleigh was convinced of the imposition
which had been practised upon her, she was unable to accept the
proffered hand of her illustrious suitor, or to explain the
reason for her apparently ungracious rejection of his addresses.
The Duke, flighty as he was in other respects, in his love for
Miss Chudleigh had at least been sincere; and this strange
conduct on the part of his betrothed, followed as it was by a
request on her part that he would not again intrude his visits
upon her, raised emotions in his mind which can hardly be
described. The rejection of his Grace was followed by that of
several other persons of distinction; and the mother of Miss
Chudleigh, who was quite unaware of her private marriage with
Captain Hervey, could not conceal her regret and anger at the
supposed folly of her daughter.

It was impossible that these circumstances could long remain
concealed from the society in which Miss Chudleigh moved; and,
in order to relieve herself from the embarrassments by which she
was surrounded, she determined to travel on the Continent.
Germany was the place selected by her for her travels; and she,
in turn, visited the chief cities of its principalities.
Possessed as she was of introductions of the highest class, she
was gratified by obtaining the acquaintance of many crowned
heads. Frederick of Prussia conversed and corresponded with her.
In the Electress of Saxony she found a friend whose affection
for her continued to the latest period of life.

On her return from the Continent Miss Chudleigh ran over the
career of pleasure, enlivened the Court circles, and each year
became more ingratiated with the mistress whom she served. She
was the leader of fashion, played whist with Lord Chesterfield,
and revelled with Lady Harrington and Miss Ashe. She was a
constant visitant at all public places, and in 1742 appeared at
a masked ball in the character of Iphigenia.

Captain Hervey, like a perturbed spirit, was, however, eternally
crossing the path trodden by his wife. If in the rooms at Bath,
he was sure to be there. At a rout, ridotto or ball, this
destroyer of her peace embittered every pleasure, and even
menaced her with an intimation that he would disclose the
marriage to the Princess.

Miss Chudleigh, now persuaded of the folly and danger of any
longer concealment from her Royal mistress, determined that the
design which her husband had formed from a malicious feeling
should be carried out by herself from a principle of rectitude;
and she, in consequence, communicated to the Princess the whole
of the circumstances attending her unhappy union. Her Royal
mistress pitied her, and continued her patronage up to the hour
of her death.

At length a stratagem was either suggested or it occurred to
Miss Chudleigh at once to deprive Captain Hervey of the power to
claim her as his wife. The clergyman who had married them was
dead. The register-book was in careless hands. A handsome
compliment was paid for the inspection; and, while the person in
whose custody it was listened to an amusing story, Miss
Chudleigh tore out the register. Thus imagining the business
accomplished she for a time bade defiance to her husband, whose
taste for the softer sex having subsided from some unaccountable
cause, afforded Miss Chudleigh a cessation of inquietude.

A change in the circumstances of the Captain, however, effected
an alteration in the feelings of his wife. His father having
died, he succeeded to the title of the Earl of Bristol, and his
accession to nobility was not unaccompanied by an increase of
fortune. Miss Chudleigh saw that by assuming the title of
Countess of Bristol she would probably command increased
respect, and would obtain greater power; and with a degree of
unparalleled blindness she went to the house of Mr Merrill, the
clergyman in whose chapel she had been married, to restore those
proofs of her union which she had previously taken such pains to
destroy. Her ostensible reason was a jaunt out of town; her real
design was to procure, if possible, the insertion of her
marriage with Captain Hervey in the book which she had formerly
mutilated. With this view she dealt out promises with a liberal
hand. The officiating clerk, who was a person of various
avocations, was to be promoted to the extent of his wishes. The
book was managed by the lady to her content, and she returned to
London, secretly exulting in the excellence and success of her
machination.

While this was going on, however, her better fate influenced in
her favour the heart of a man who was the exemplar of amiability
-- this was the Duke of Kingston; but, remarried as it were by
her own stratagem, the participation of ducal honours became
legally impossible. The chains of wedlock now became galling in
the extreme. Every advice was taken, every means tried, by which
her liberation might be obtained; but all the efforts which were
made proved useless, and it was found to be necessary to
acquiesce in that which could not be opposed successfully or
pass unnoticed. The Duke's passion, meanwhile, became more
ardent and sincere; and, finding the apparent impossibility of a
marriage taking place, he for a series of years cohabited with
Miss Chudleigh, although with such external observances of
decorum that their intimacy was neither generally remarked nor
known.

The disagreeable nature of these proceedings on their part was,
however, felt by both parties, and efforts were again made by
means of which a marriage might be solemnised. The Earl of
Bristol was sounded; but upon his learning the design with which
a divorce was sought he declared that he would never consent to
it, for that his Countess's vanity should not be flattered by
her being raised to the rank of a duchess. The negotiations were
thus for a time stopped; but afterwards, there being a lady with
whom he conceived that he could make an advantageous match, he
listened to the suggestions which were made to him with more
complacency, and at length declared that he was ready to adopt
any proceedings which should have for their effect the
annihilation of the ties by which he was bound to Miss
Chudleigh. The civilians were consulted, a jactitation suit was
instituted; but the evidence by which the marriage could have
been proved was kept back, and the Earl of Bristol failing, as
it was intended he should fail, in substantiating the marriage,
a decree was made, declaring the claim to be null and
unsupported. Legal opinion now only remained to be taken as to
the effect of this decree, and the lawyers of the Ecclesiastical
Courts, highly tenacious of the rights and jurisdiction of their
own judges, declared their opinion to be that the sentence could
not be disturbed by the interference of any extrinsic power. In
the conviction, therefore, of the most perfect safety, the
marriage of the Duke of Kingston with Miss Chudleigh was
publicly solemnised. The wedding favours were worn by persons of
the highest distinction in the kingdom; and during the lifetime
of his Grace no attempt was made to dispute the legality of the
proceedings. For a few years the Duchess figured in the world of
gaiety without apprehension or control. She was raised to the
pinnacle of her fortune, and she enjoyed that which her later
life had been directed to accomplish -- the parade of title --
but without that honour which integrity of character can alone
secure. She was checked in her career of pleasure, however, by
the death of the Duke. The fortune which his Grace possessed, it
appears, was not entailed, and it was at his option, therefore,
to bequeath it to the Duchess or to the heirs of his family, as
seemed best to his inclination. His will, excluding from every
benefit an elder, and preferring a younger, nephew as the heir
in tail, gave rise to the prosecution of the Duchess, which
ended in the beggary of her prosecutor and her own exile. The
demise of the Duke of Kingston was neither sudden nor
unexpected. Being attacked with a paralytic affection, he
lingered but a short time, which was employed by the Duchess in
journeying his Grace from town to town, under the false idea of
prolonging his life by change of air and situation. At last,
when real danger seemed to threaten, even in the opinion of the
Duchess, she dispatched one of her swiftest-footed messengers to
her solicitor, Mr Field, of the Temple, requiring his immediate
attendance. He obeyed the summons, and, arriving at the house,
the Duchess asked him to procure the Duke to execute, and be
himself a subscribing witness to, a will made without his
knowledge, and more to the taste of the Duchess than that which
had been executed. The difference between these two wills was
this: the Duke had bequeathed the income of his estates to his
relict during her life expressly under the condition of her
continuing in a state of widowhood. Perfectly satisfied,
however, as the Duchess seemed with whatever was the inclination
of her dearest lord, she could not resist the opportunity of
carrying her secret wishes into effect. She did not relish the
temple of Hymen being shut against her. Mr Field, however,
positively refused either to tender the will or to be in any
manner concerned in endeavouring to procure its execution; and
with this refusal he quitted the house. Soon after the
frustration of this attempt the Duke of Kingston expired.

No sooner were the funeral rites performed than the Duchess
adjusted her affairs and embarked for the Continent, proposing
Rome for her temporary residence. Ganganelli at that time filled
the papal chair. He treated her with the utmost civility -- gave
her, as a sovereign prince, many privileges -- and she was
lodged in the palace of one of the cardinals. Her vanity being
thus gratified, her Grace, in return, treated the Romans with a
public spectacle. She had built an elegant pleasure yacht; a
gentleman who had served in the navy was the commander. Under
her orders he sailed for Italy; and the vessel, at considerable
trouble and expense, was conveyed up the Tiber. The sight of an
English yacht in this river was one of so unusual a character
that it attracted crowds of admirers; but, while all seemed
happiness and pleasure where the barque rested quietly on the
waters of the river, proceedings were being concocted in London
which would effectually put a stop to any momentary sensations
of bliss which the Duchess might entertain.

Mrs Craddock, who, in the capacity of a domestic, had witnessed
the marriage which had been solemnised between her Grace and the
Earl of Bristol, found herself so reduced in circumstances that
she was compelled to apply to Mr Field for assistance. The
request was rejected; and, not withstanding her assurance that
she was perfectly well aware of all the circumstances attending
the Duchess's marriage, and that she should not hesitate to
disclose all she knew in a quarter where she would be liberally
paid -- namely, to the disappointed relations of the Duke of
Kingston -- she was set at defiance. Thus refused, starvation
stared her in the face; and, stung by the ingratitude of the
Duchess's solicitor, she immediately set about the work of ruin
which she contemplated. The Duke of Kingston had borne a marked
dislike to one of his nephews, Mr Evelyn Meadows, one of the
sons of his sister, Lady Frances Pierpoint. This gentleman,
being excluded from the presumptive heirship, joyfully received
the intelligence that a method of revenging himself against the
Duchess was presented to him. He saw Mrs Craddock; learned from
her the particulars of the statement which she would be able to
make upon oath; and, being perfectly satisfied of its truth, he
preferred a bill of indictment against the Duchess of Kingston
for bigamy, which was duly returned a true bill. Notice was
immediately given to Mr Field of the proceedings, and advices
were forthwith sent to the Duchess to appear and plead to the
indictment, to prevent a judgment of outlawry.

The Duchess's immediate return to England being thus required,
she set about making the necessary preparations for her journey;
and, as money was one of the commodities requisite to enable her
to commence her homeward march, she proceeded to the house of Mr
Jenkins, the banker in Rome, in whose hands she had placed
security for the advance of all such sums as she might require.
The opposition of her enemies, however, had already commenced;
they had adopted a line of policy exactly suited to the lady
with whom they had to deal. Mr Jenkins was out, and could not be
found. She apprised him, by letter, of her intended journey, and
her consequent want of money; but still he avoided seeing her.
Suspecting the trick, her Grace was not to be trifled with, and,
finding all her efforts fail, she took a pair of pistols in her
pocket and, driving to Mr Jenkins's house, once again demanded
to be admitted. The customary answer, that Mr Jenkins was out,
was given; but the Duchess declared that she was determined to
wait until she saw him, even if it should not be until a day,
month or year had elapsed; and she took her seat on the steps of
the door, which she kept open with the muzzle of one of her
pistols, apparently determined to remain there. She knew that
business would compel his return, if he were not already
indoors; and at length Mr Jenkins, finding further opposition
useless, appeared. The nature of her business was soon
explained. The conversation was not of the mildest kind. Money
was demanded, not asked. A little prevarication ensued, but the
production of a pistol served as the most powerful mode of
reasoning, and, the necessary sum being instantly obtained, the
Duchess quitted Rome. Her journey was retarded before she
reached the Alps; a violent fever seemed to seize on her vitals:
but she recovered, to the astonishment of her attendants. An
abscess then formed in her side, which rendering it impossible
for her to endure the motion of the carriage, a kind of litter
was provided, in which she slowly travelled. In this situation
nature was relieved by the breaking of the abscess; and, after a
painfully tedious journey, the duchess reached Calais. At that
place she made a pause; and there it was that her apprehension
got the better of her reason. In idea she was fettered and
incarcerated in the worst cell of the worst prison in London.
She was totally ignorant of the bailable nature of her offence,
and therefore expected the utmost that can be imagined. Colonel
West, a brother of the late Lord Delaware, whom the duchess had
known in England, became her principal associate; but he was not
lawyer enough to satisfy her doubts. By the means of former
connections, and through a benevolence in his own nature, the
Earl of Mansfield had a private meeting with the duchess and the
venerable peer conducted himself in a manner which did honour to
his heart and character.

Her spirits being soothed by the interview, the duchess embarked
for Dover, landed, drove post to Kingston-house, and found
friends displaying both zeal and alacrity in her cause. The
first measure taken was to have the duchess bailed. This was
done before Lord Mansfield; the Duke of Newcastle, Lord
Mountstuart, Mr Glover, and other characters of rank attending.
The prosecution and consequent trial of the duchess becoming
objects of magnitude, the public curiosity and expectation were
proportion ably excited. The duchess had through life
distinguished herself as a most eccentric character. Her turn of
mind was original, and many of her actions were without a
parallel. Even when she moved in the sphere of amusement, it was
in a style peculiarly her own. If others invited admiration by a
partial display of their charms at a masquerade, she at once
threw off the veil, and set censure at defiance. Thus, at
midnight assemblies, where Bacchus revelled, and the altars of
Venus were encircled by the votaries of love, the duchess, then
Miss Chudleigh, appeared almost in the unadorned simplicity of
primitive nature. The dilemma, therefore, into which she was
thrown by the pending prosecution, was, to such a character, of
the most perplexing kind.

She had already in a manner invited the disgrace, and she now
neglected the means of preventing it. Mrs Cradock, the only
existing evidence against her, again personally solicited a
maintenance for the remaining years of her life: and voluntarily
offered, in case a stipend should be settled on her, to retire
to her native village, and never more intrude. The offer was
rejected by the duchess, who would only consent to allow her
twenty pounds a year, on condition of her sequestering herself
in some place near the Peak of Derbyshire. This the duchess
considered as a most liberal offer; and she expressed her
astonishment that it should be rejected.

Under the assurances of her lawyers, the duchess was as quiet as
that troublesome monitor, her own heart, would permit her to be;
and reconciled in some measure to the encounter with which she
was about to meet, her repose was most painfully disturbed by an
adversary, who appeared in a new and most unexpected quarter.
This was the celebrated Foote, the actor, who, having mixed in
the first circles of fashion, was perfectly acquainted with the
leading transactions of the duchess's life, and had resolved to
turn his knowledge to his own advantage. As, in the opinion of
Mandeville, private vices are public benefits, so Foote deemed
the crimes and vices of individuals lawful game for his wit. On
this principle he proceeded with the Duchess of Kingston; and he
wrote a piece, founded on her life, called "The Trip to Calais."
The scenes were humorous: the character of the duchess admirably
drawn; and the effect of the performance of the farce on the
stage would have been that which was most congenial to the
tastes of the scandal-mongers of the day -- namely, to make the
duchess ashamed of herself. The real object of Mr. Foote,
however, was one of a nature more likely to prove advantageous
to himself -- it was to obtain money to secure the suppression
of the piece; and with this view he contrived to have it
communicated to her grace that the Haymarket Theatre would open
with an entertainment in which she was taken off to the life.
Alarmed at this, she sent for Foote, who attended with the piece
in his pocket; but having been desired to read it, he had not
gone far before the character of Lady Kitty Crocodile being
introduced, the duchess could no longer control her anger, and
rising in a violent rage, she exclaimed, "Why, this is
scandalous; what a wretch you have made me." Mr. Foote assured
her that the character was not intended to"caricature her;" --
even in his serious moments being unable to control his desire
to pun -- for he left her to infer that it was a true picture;
and the duchess, having taken a few turns about the room, became
more composed, and requested that the piece might be left for
her perusal, engaging that it should be returned by the ensuing
evening. The actor readily complied, and retired; but the lady
being left to consider her own portrait, was so displeased with
the likeness, that she determined, if possible, to prevent its
exposure on the stage. The artist had no objection to sell his
work, and she was inclined to become the purchaser; but on the
former being questioned as to the sum which he should expect for
suppressing the piece, he proportioned his expectations to what
he deemed the duchess's power of gratifying them, and demanded
two thousand guineas, besides a sum to be paid as compensation
for the loss of the scenes, which had been painted for the
farce, and which were not applicable to any other purpose. The
magnitude of the demand, as well it might, staggered the
duchess; and having intimated her extreme astonishment at so
exorbitant a proposition, she expressed a wish that the sum
might be fixed at one within the bounds of moderation and
reason. The actor was positive; concluding, that as his was the
only article in the market, he might name his own price: but the
result was, that by demanding too much, he lost all. A cheque
for fourteen hundred pounds was offered; the amount was
increased to sixteen hundred pounds, and a draft on Messrs.
Drummond's was actually signed; but the obstinacy of the actor
was so great, that he refused to abate one guinea from his
original demand. The circumstance might at any other time have
passed among the indifferent events of the day, and as wholly
undeserving of the public notice; but those long connected with
the duchess, and in habits of intimacy, felt the attack made on
her as directed by a ruffian hand, at a moment when she was
least able to make resistance. His grace the Duke of Newcastle
was consulted. The chamberlain of the household (the Earl of
Hertford) was apprised of the circumstance; and his prohibitory
interference was earnestly solicited. He sent for the manuscript
copy of "The Trip to Calais," perused, and censured it.

But besides these and other powerful aids, the duchess called in
professional advice. The sages of the robe were consulted, and
their opinions were that the piece was a malicious libel; and
that, should it be represented, a shorthand writer ought to be
employed to attend on the night of representation, to minute
each offensive passage, as the groundwork of a prosecution. This
advice was followed, and Foote was intimidated. He denied having
made a demand of two thousand guineas; but the Rev Mr Foster
contradicted him in an affidavit. Thus defeated in point of
fact, Foote found himself baffled also in point of design. The
chamberlain would not permit the piece to be represented.

Foote now had recourse to another expedient. He caused it to be
intimated "that it was in his power to publish if not to
perform; but were his expenses reimbursed (and the sum which her
grace had formerly offered would do the business), he would
desist." This being communicated to the duchess, she in this, as
in too many cases, asked the opinion of her friends, with a
secret determination to follow her own. Foote, finding that she
began to yield, pressed his desire incessantly; and she had
actually provided bills to the amount of one thousand six
hundred pounds, which she would have given him but for the Rev
Mr Jackson, who, being asked his opinion of the demand, returned
this answer: "Instead of complying with it, your grace should
obtain complete evidence of the menace and demand, and then
consult your counsel whether a prosecution will not lie for
endeavouring to extort money by threats. Your grace must
remember the attack on the first Duke of Marlborough by a
stranger, who had formed a design either on his purse or his
interest, and endeavoured to menace him into a compliance." This
answer struck the Earl of Peterborough and Mr Foster very
forcibly, as in perfect coincidence with their own opinions; and
Mr Jackson was then solicited to wait on Mr Foote; Mr Foster,
the chaplain of the duchess, professing himself to be too far
advanced in years to enter into the field of literary combat. Mr
Jackson consented to be the champion on the following condition:
that the duchess would give her honour never to retract her
determination, nor to let Foote extort from her a single guinea.
Her grace subscribing to this condition, Mr Jackson waited on Mr
Foote at his house in Suffolk-street, and intimated to him the
resolution to which the duchess had come. The actor, however,
still wished to have matters compromised; and to this end he
addressed a letter to the duchess, which began with stating
"that a member of the privy council and a friend of her grace
(by whom he meant the Duke of Newcastle) had conversed with him
on the subject of the dispute between them; and that, for
himself, he was ready to have every thing adjusted." This letter
afforded the duchess a triumph. Every line contained a
concession; and, contrary to the advice of her friends, she
insisted upon the publication of the whole correspondence.

This circumstance for a time served to turn the current of
attention into a new channel. But while the public notice was
withdrawn from her grace, she felt too heavily the necessity
which existed to adopt some course to enable her either to evade
or meet the impending danger. Her line of procedure was soon
determined upon -- she affected an earnest desire to have the
trial, if possible, accelerated, while in secret she took every
means in her power to evade the measures which her opponents had
taken against her, Her conduct in other respects appears to have
been strangely inconsistent. An opportunity presented itself
which remained only to be embraced to secure her object. It
became the subject of a discussion in the House of Lords whether
the trial of her grace should not be conducted in Westminster
Hall; and the expense which would necessarily be incurred by the
country was by many urged as being a burden which ought not to
rest upon the public purse. Lord Mansfield, privately desiring
to save the duchess from the disgrace and ignominy of a public
trial, strove to avail himself of this objection in her favour;
and so great had become the differences of opinion entertained
upon the subject, that the withdrawal of the prosecution
altogether would have been a matter which would have been
considered desirable rather than improper. Here then was the
critical moment at which the duchess might have determined her
future fate. A hint was privately conveyed to her that the sum
of ten thousand pounds would satisfy every expectation, and put
an end to the prosecution; and doubts being expressed of the
sincerity of the proposal; the offer was made in distinct terms.
The duchess was entreated by her friends to accept the
proposition which was made, and so at once to relieve herself
and them from all fear of the consequences which might result to
her; but through a fatal mistaken confidence either in the legal
construction of her case, or in her own machinations, she
refused to accede to the offers which were held out. Resting
assured of her acquittal, she resisted every attempt at
dissuasion from her purpose of going to trial; and she assumed
an air of indifference about the business which but ill accorded
with the doubtful nature of her position. She talked of the
absolute necessity of setting out for Rome; affected to have
some material business to settle with the Pope; and, in
consequence, took every means and urged every argument in her
power to procure the speedy termination of the proceedings -- as
if the regular course of justice had not been swift enough to
overtake her. In the midst of her confidence, however, she did
not abandon her manoeuvring; but at the very moment when she was
petitioning for a speedy trial, she was engaged in a scheme to
get rid of the principal witness against her. Mrs Cradock, to
whom before she had refused a trifling remuneration, might now
have demanded thousands as the price of her evidence. A
negotiation was carried on through the medium of a relation of
hers, who was a letter-carrier, which had for its object her
removal from England; and an interview was arranged to take
place between her and the duchess, at which the latter was to
appear disguised, and was to reveal herself only after some
conversation, the object of which was that terms might be
proposed; but her grace was duped: for having changed her
clothes to those of a man, she waited at the am pointed hour and
place without seeing either Mrs Cradock or the person who had
promised to effect the meeting; and she afterwards learned that
every particular of this business had been communicated to the
prosecutors, who instructed the letter-carrier to pretend an
acquiescence in the scheme.

Thus baffled in a project which bad a plausible appearance of
success, the only method left was the best possible arrangement
of matters preparatory to the trial.

About nine o'clock in the morning of Monday the 15th of April,
1776, the peeresses, foreign ambassadors, &c. concluded the
ceremony of assuming their respective places in Westminster
hall: and at half past ten her majesty, accompanied by the
prince of Wales, the bishop of Osnaburgh, two other young
princes, and the princess royal, and attended by lord and lady
Holdernesse, lord Hinchinbroke, and others of the nobility,
entered the hall from the duke of Newcastle's house in New
Palace Yard, and took her seat in the centre of his grace's
gallery.

The procession came into the hall in the following order at a
quarter past eleven: the eldest sons of peers, preceded by the
domestics of the lord high steward, masters in chancery, king's
serjeants and judges, barons, bishops, viscounts, earls,
marquesses and dukes; the serjeant at arms, the lord high
steward with black rod on his right, and garter on his left; the
lord president, and the lord privy seal. The barons proceeded to
their seats next the bar, the junior barons taking the left hand
seat next the bar, and the other barons following in that order
till the seats were filled in the front of the court. The
archbishops and bishops occupied the side benches on the right,
and the dukes the benches extending from the throne to the 
table.

The persons who composed the court having taken their seats with
the usual formalities, the lord high steward directed the clerk
of the crown to read the certiorari, the return thereof, the
caption of the indictment, the indictment itself, and other
official papers; which being done, the serjeant at arms made
proclamation for the usher of the black rod to place the
prisoner at the bar.

The duchess then came forward, attended by Mrs Egerton, Mrs
Barrington, and Miss Chudleigh, three of the ladies of her
bedchamber, and her chaplain, physician, and apothecary; and as
she approached the bar she made three reverences, and then
dropped on her knees, when the lord high steward said, 'Madam,
you may rise.' Having risen, she curtsied to the lord high
steward and the house of peers; and her compliments were
returned.

Proclamation being made for silence, the lord high steward
mentioned to the prisoner the fatal consequences attending the
crime of which she stood indicted, signifying that, however
alarming and awful her present circumstances, she might derive
great consolation from considering that she was to be tried by
the most liberal, candid, and august assembly in the universe.

The duchess then read a paper, setting forth that she was
guiltless of the offence alledged against her, and that the
agitation of her mind arose, not from the consciousness of
guilt, but from the painful circumstance of being called before
so awful a tribunal on a criminal accusation; begging,
therefore, that if she was deficient in the observance of any
ceremonial points, her failure might not he understood as
proceeding from wilful disrespect, but be attributed to the
unfortunate peculiarity of her situation. It was added in the
paper that she had travelled from Rome in so dangerous a state
of health, that it was necessary for her to be conveyed in a
litter; and that she was perfectly satisfied that she should
have a fair trial, since the determination respecting her cause,
on which materially depended her honor and fortune, would
proceed from the most unprejudiced and august assembly in the
world.

The lord high steward desired the lady to give attention while
she was arraigned on an indictment for bigamy. Proclamation for
silence being made, the duchess (who had been permitted to sit)
arose, and read a paper, representing to the court that she was
advised by her counsel to plead the sentence of the
ecclesiastical court in the year 1769, as a bar to her being
tried on the present indictment. The lord high steward informed
her that she must plead to the indictment; in consequence of
which she was arraigned; and, being asked by the clerk of the
crown whether she was guilty of the felony with which she stood
charged, she answered with great firmness, 'Not guilty, my
lords.' The clerk of the crown then asking her how she would be
tried, she said, 'by God and her peers;' on which the clerk
said, 'God send your ladyship a good deliverance.'

The serjeant at arms made proclamation for all persons who had
evidence to produce against the prisoner to appear. The lord
high steward requested, that, as his seat was so distant from
the bar, he might be allowed, for the convenience of hearing, to
go to the table; to which the court readily acquiesced.

Mr Dunning, in a concise speech, opened the pleadings in support
of the prosecution. He was followed by Mr Thurloe, the attorney
general, who learnedly animadverted on the plea advanced by the
prisoner, and said that, being counsel for the prosecution, it
became his duty to declare his opinion on the case in question,
which was, that he could not discover any reasonable foundation
for the plea urged by the prisoner; and he desired that, if
there were reasons sufficient to support it, they might be
produced by the counsel on the opposite side.

Lord Mansfield moved, that a proper officer from Doctors Commons
might read the sentence of the ecclesiastical court. Hereupon
the attorney general said that it would be necessary for all the
allegations, replications, &c. on which the sentence was
founded, to he read; and the clerk of the crown read the
allegations, and was proceeding with the replications, when Lord
Mansfield observed, that it would not be necessary to read the
latter papers, since the counsel, in the course of their
pleadings, would introduce the material arguments therein
contained.

Mr Wallace rose to reply to the attorney general, and in an
eloquent strain of forcible argument endeavoured to prove the
determination of the ecclesiastical court to be conclusive. Mr
Wallace was followed by Mr Mansfield, who displayed great
ingenuity and learning in support of the same doctrine.

Doctor Calvert, a civilian, spoke nearly for the space of two
hours, and produced many precedents to prove the sentence of the
consistory court to be definitive and irrevocable. The same
ground of argument was pursued by Doctor Wynne, another
civilian, who also quoted several cases in point in behalf of
the Duchess; and on the conclusion of this gentleman's speech
the court was adjourned on the motion of Lord Gower.

The business of the second day was opened by the lord high
steward, who desired the counsel for her Grace to reply to the
arguments advanced on the preceding day against evidence being
admitted in support of the prosecution.

The attorney general entered upon a minute examination of the
pleadings on the other side, and endeavoured to confute the
arguments of the counsel and civilians, and to prove that the
cases they had quoted were ill-applied, and undeserving
authority. This gentleman spoke about an hour and twenty
minutes.

The solicitor general then arose, and delivered a learned and
elaborate speech, wherein he was extremely severe on the
consistory court, saying he could not allow authority to that
doctrine which puts the decisions of that court above the
cognizance of the temporal ones. He said, that if the sentences
of the ecclesiastical court were to be deemed conclusive,
persons addicted to indulge a disposition to variety might each,
by the exercise of industry and ingenious collusion, gratify his
passions with seventy-five wives before attaining his thirtieth
year. His witty and humorous allusions frequently provoked a
general laugh at the expence of Doctors Commons; and he
concluded with giving it as his opinion that the supreme court
of legislature was invested with an indisputable power of
reversing the decisions of the consistory courts. Mr Dunning
spoke next, strongly supporting the arguments of the solicitor
general, and producing several authorities from the law-books in
justification of his opinion, that the plea could not be
admitted as a bar against calling evidence to prove the
criminality of the prisoner.

Doctor Harris, a civilian, rose in behalf of the prosecution;
and, taking an extensive view of the pleadings of the Doctors
Calvert and Wynne, exerted his utmost power to prove them
nugatory.

Lord Talbot then addressed the court, observing, that as the
matter in agitation was of the utmost importance both to the
noble prisoner, and the right honourable court in general, the
pleadings on both sides could not be weighed with too minute an
attention; and lest the memory should be encumbered (candidly
acknowledging that he had already heard more than he believed
his mind would retain) he moved for the court to adjourn to the
chamber of parliament. Hereupon the lord high steward came from
the table to the throne, and requested to be informed whether it
was the pleasure of the house to adjourn; and the question being
put, it passed in the affirmative.

On Friday, the 19th of April, Mr Wallace was called upon by the
lord high steward to reply in behalf of the prisoner. Lord
Ravensworth then begged he might propose question to the counsel
at the bar. His lordship's question was, 'Is the sentence of the
ecclesiastical court in this case final and conclusive, or is it
not?' Upon this Lord Mansfield said, 'If the noble lord means --
Is there any precedent for reversing the sentence of the
ecclesiastical court? the answer must certainly be in the
negative. As to any other meaning, the question is in debate
among the counsel at the bar, and has been so these three days.'

Mr Wallace then largely expatiated in support of his former
cases, and pleaded powerfully in refutation of the arguments
advanced by the counsel on the opposite side, producing many
other cases in point, and urging that they were incontrvertble.
the next speaker was Doctor Calvert, who pleaded very ably in
support of the power of the ecclesiastical court he concluded
with insisting that the sentence of the consistory court was
indisputably a legal plea in bar of evidence being produced
against the prisoner.

It being intimated that the counsel for the Duchess had
concluded their replies, a motion was made by Lord Gower for
adjourning to the parliament chamber, and for allowing her Grace
permission to retire to her apartment till the peers should
return into court; upon which the lord high steward adjourned
the court about half past three o'clock.

The peers having taken their seats in the parliament chamber,
Lord Camden proposed the following questions to the judges:--
'Whether it was their opinion that the court had power to call
evidence in support of the prosecution? or whether they deemed
the sentence of the ecclesiastical court conclusive and
irrevocable? and whether the prosecutor could or could not
proceed in this court against the prisoner for obtaining the
decision of the consistory court by collusion and fraud?' The
opinion of the judges was, 'That in either case the prosecutor
was authorised to enter into evidence in support of the
indictment on which the prisoner stood arraigned.'

In conscquence of the above determination, the house, after
having withdrawn for about half an hour, returned into court;
and the lord high steward informed the attorney general, that he
was directed by their lordships to order him to proceed with the
trial.

Mr Attorney then explained the nature of the evidence he meant
to produce, and recapitulated a great number of facts and
circumstances from the year 1742, previous to the supposed
marriage of her Grace with Mr Hervey, to the time of her
marriage with the late Duke of Kingston.

The solicitor general rose to examine the witnesses, and Anne
Craddock being called to the bar, the Duke of Richmond observed
that it would he proper for her to stand a a greater distance
from the prisoner, and, after some debate on this head, Mr
Quarme, deputy usher of the black rod, was placed between them.
One of the clerks of the house put the questions from the
counsel, and delivered the answers of the witness with an
audible voice.
The evidence of Anne Craddock was to the following purpose: -- I
have known her Grace the Duchess of King ston ever since the
year 1742; at which time she came on a visit to Mr Merrill's, at
Launceston in Hampshire, during the Winchester races. At that
time I lived in the family of Mrs Hanmer, Miss Chudleigh's aunt,
who was then on a visit at Mr Merrill's, where Mr Hervey and
Miss Chudleigh first met, and soon conceived a mutual attachment
towards each other. They were privately married one evening
about eleven o'clock in Launceston church, in the presence of Mr
Mountney, Mrs Hanmer, the Reverend Mr Ames, the rector, who
performed the ceremony, and myself. I was ordered out of the
church, to entice Mr Merrill's servants out of the way. I saw
the bride and bridegroom put to bed together; and Mrs Hanmer
obliged them to rise again: they went to bed together the night
following. In a few days Mr Hervey was under the necessity of
going to Portsmouth, in order to embark on board Sir John
Danvers's fleet, in which he was a lieutenant; and being ordered
to call him at five o'clock in the morning, I went into the bed 
chamber at the appointed hour, and found him and his lady
sleeping in bed together, and was unwilling to disturb them,
thinking the delay of an hour or two would not be of any
consequence. My husband, to whom I was not married till after
the time I have mentioned, accompanied Mr Hervey in the capacity
of his servant. When Mr Hervey returned from the Mediterranean,
his lady and he lived together. I then thought her in a state of
pregnancy. Some months after, Mr Hervey went again to sea, and
during his absence, I was informed that the lady was brought to
bed. She herself told me she had a little boy at nurse, and that
his features greatly resembled those of Mr Hervey.

The Duke of Grafton asked the witness, whether she had seen the
child? and she answered in the negative. His Grace also asked,
whether, as the ceremony was performed at night, there were any
lights in the church? In reply to which she said, Mr Mountney
had a wax light fixed to the crown of his hat. In reply to
questions proposed by Lord Hillsborough, the witness
acknowledged that she had received a letter from Mr Fossard, of
Piccadilly, containing a promise of a sinecure place, on
condition of her appearing to give evidence against the lady at
the bar, and expressing that if she thought proper she might
shew the letter to Mr Hervey.

On Saturday the 20th of April Anne Craddock was further
examined. The Lords Derby, Hillsborough, Buckinghamshire, and
others, questioning her whether she had not been promised a
reward by the prosecutor on condition of her giving evidence to
convict the prisoner; her answers were evasive, but she was at
length brought to acknowledge that pecuniary offers had been
made to induce her to give evidence in support of the
prosecution.

Mrs Sophia Pettiplace, sister to Lord Howe, was next examined;
but her evidence was of no consequence. She lived with her Grace
at the time when her supposed marriage took place with Mr
Hervey, but was not present at the ceremony; and she only
believed that the Duchess had mentioned the circumstance to her.

Caesar Hawkins, Esquire, deposed, that he had been acquainted
with the Duchess several years, he believed not less than
thirty. He had heard of a marriage between Mr Hervey and the
lady at the bar, which circumstance was afterwards mentioned to
him by both parties, previous to Mr Hervey's last going to sea.
By the desire of her Grace he was in the room when the issue of
the marriage was born, and once saw the child. He was sent for
by Mr Hervey soon after his return from sea, and desired by him
to wait upon the lady, with proposals for procuring a divorce,
which he accordingly did; when her Grace declared herself
absolutely determined against listening to such terms; and he
knew that many messages passed on the subject. Her Grace some
time after informed him, at his own house, that she had
instituted a jactitation suit against Mr Hervey in Doctors
Commons. On another visit she appeared very grave, and desiring
him to retire into another apartment, said she was exceedingly
unhappy in consequence of an oath, which she had long dreaded,
having been tendered to her at Doctors Commons to disavow her
marriage, which she would not do for ten thousand worlds. Upon
another visit, a short time after, she informed him, that a
sentence had passed in her favour at Doctors Commons, which
would be irrevocable, unless Mr Hervey pursued certain measures
within a limited time, which she did not apprehend he would do.
Hereupon he enquired how she got over the oath; and her reply
was, that the circumstance of her marriage was so blended with
falsities that she could easily reconcile the matter to her
conscience; since the ceremony was a business of so scrambling
and shabby a nature, that she could as safely swear she was not,
as that she was married.

Judith Philips being called, swore, that she was the widow of
the Reverend Mr Ames; that she remembered when her late husband
performed the marriage ceremony between Mr Hervey and the
prisoner; that she was not present, but derived her information
from her husband; that some time after the marriage the lady
desired her to prevail upon her husband to grant a certificate,
which she said she believed her husband would not refuse; that
Mr Merrill, who accompanied the lady, advised her to consult his
attorney from Worcester; that in compliance with the attorney's
advice a register-book was purchased, and the marriage inserted
therein, with some late burials in the parish. The book was here
produced, and the witness swore to the writing of her late
husband.

The writing of the reverend Mr Ames was proved by the reverend
Mr Inchin, and the reverend Mr Dennis; and the entry of a caveat
to the duke's will was proved by a clerk from Doctor's Commons.
The book in which the marriage of the duke of Kingston with the
lady at the bar was registered on the 8th of March, 1769, was
produced by the reverend Mr Trebeck of St Margaret's,
Westminster; and the reverend Mr Samuel Harpur, of the Museum,
swore, that he performed the marriage ceremony between the
parties on the day mentioned in the book produced by Mr Trebeck.

Monday the 22d of April, after the attorney-general had declared
the evidence in behalf of the prosecution to be concluded, the
lord high steward called upon the prisoner for her defence,
which she read; and the following are the most material
arguments it contained to invalidate the evidence adduced by the
proseeutor: -- she appealed to the Searcher of all hearts, that
she never considered herself as legally married to Mr Hervey;
she said that she con sidered herself as a single woman, and as
such was addressed by the late duke of Kingston; that,
influenced by a legitimate attachment to his grace, she
instituted a suit in the ecclesiastical court, where her
supposed marriage with Mr Hervey was declared null and void;
but, anxious for every conscientious as well as legal sanction,
she submitted an authentic state of her case to the archbishop
of Canterbury, who, in the most decisive and unreserved manner,
declared that she was at liberty to marry, and afterwards
granted, and delivered to doctor Collier, a special licence for
her marriage with the late duke of Kingston. She said that, on
her marriage, she experienced every mark of gracious esteem from
their majesties, and her late royal mistress, the princess
dowager of Wales, and was publicly recognized as duchess of
Kingston. Under such respectable sanctions and virtuous motives
for the conduct she pursued, strengthened by a decision that had
been esteemed conclusive and irrevocable for the space of seven
centuries, if their lordships should deem her guilty, on any
rigid principle of law, she hoped, nay, she was conscious, they
would attribute her failure as proceeding from a mistaken
judgment and erroneous advice, and not censure her for
intentional guilt.

She bestowed the highest encomiums on the deceased duke, and
solemnly assured the court, that she had in no one instance
abused her ascendency over him; and that, so far from
endeavouring to engross his possessions, she had declared
herself amply provided for by that fortune for life which he was 
extremely anxious to bequeath in perpetuity. As to the neglect
of the duke's eldest nephew, she said it was entirely the
consequence of his disrespectful behaviour to her; and she was
not dissatisfied at a preference to another nephew, whose
respect and attention to her had been such as the duke judged to
be her due, in consequence of her advancement to the honour of
being the wife of his uncle.

The lord high steward desired Mr Wallace to proceed with the
evidence. The advocate stated the nature of the evidence he
meant to produce to prove that Anne Craddock had asserted to
different people that she had no recollection of the marriage
between Mr Hervey and the lady at the bar; and that she placed a
reliance on a promise of having a provision made for her in
consequence of the evidence she was to give on the present
trial; and, to invalidate the depositions of Judith Phillips, he
ordered the clerk to read a letter, wherein she supplicated her
grace to exert her influence to prevent her husband's discharge
from the duke's service, and observed, that Mrs Phillips had, on
the preceding day, swore, that her husband was not dismissed,
but voluntarily quitted his station in the household of his
grace.

Mr Wallace called Mr Berkley, Lord Bristol's attorney, who said
his lordship told him he was desirous of obtaining a divorce,
and directed him to Anne Craddock, sayng she was the only person
then living who was present at his marriage; and that, a short
time previous to the commencement of the jactitation suit, he
waited upon Anne Craddock, who informed him that her memory was
bad and that she could remember nothing perfectly in relation to
the marriage, which must have been a long time before.

Anne Pritchard deposed that about three months had elapsed since
being informed by Mrs Craddock that she expected to be provided
for soon after the trial, and of being enabled to procure a
place in the custom-house for one of her relations.

The lord high steward addressed himself to the court; saying,
that their lordships had heard the evidence on both sides, and
that the importance and solemnity of the occasion required that
they should severally pronounce their opinions in the absence of
the prisoner, observing that the junior baron was to speak first
-- their lordships declared the prisoner to be guilty.

Proclamation was then made that the Usher of the Black Rod
should replace the prisoner at the bar; and, immediately on her
appearing, the Lord High Steward informed her that the Lords had
maturely considered the evidence adduced against her, as well as
the testimony of the witnesses who had been called on her
behalf, and that they had pronounced her guilty of the felony
for which she was indicted. He then inquired whether she had
anything to say why judgment should not be pronounced against
her.

The Duchess immediately handed in a paper containing the words,
"I plead the privilege of the peerage," which were read by the
clerk at the table. The Lord High Steward then informed her
Grace that the Lords had considered the plea, and agreed to
allow it, adding: "Madam, you will be discharged on paying the
usual fees."

The Duchess during the trial appeared to be perfectly collected,
but on sentence being pronounced she fainted, and was carried
out of court.

This solemnity was concluded on the 22nd of April, 1776. But the
prosecutors still had a plan in embryo to confine the person of
the Countess of Bristol -- for to this rank she was now again
reduced -- to the kingdom, and to deprive her of her personal
property; and a writ of ne exeat regno was actually in the
course of preparation, but private notice being conveyed to her
of this circumstance she was advised immediately to quit the
country. In order to conceal her flight she caused her carriage
to be driven publicly through the streets, and invited a large
party to dine at her house; but, without waiting to apologise to
her guests, she drove to Dover in a post-chaise, and there
entering a boat with Mr Harvey, the captain of her yacht, she
accompanied him to Calais. Circumstances of which she had been
advised, and which had occurred during the period of her absence
from Rome, rendered her immediate presence in that city
necessary, and proceeding thither, without loss of time, she
found that a Spanish friar, whom she had left in charge of her
palace and furniture, had found means to convert her property
into money, and after having seduced a young English girl, who
had also been left in the palace, had absconded. Having now
obtained the whole of her plate from the public bank where she
had deposited it, she returned to Calais, which she adopted as
the best place at which she could fix her residence, in
consequence of the expeditious communication which existed
between that town and London, by means of which she might be
afforded the earliest intelligence of the proceedings of her
opponents.

Their business was now to set aside, if possible, the will of
the Duke of Kingston. There was no probability of the success of
the attempt, but there was sufficient doubt upon the subject in
the mind of the Countess to keep all her apprehensions alive.
The will of his Grace of Kingston, however, received every
confirmation which the Courts of Justice could give, and the
object of the Countess now was to dissipate rather than expend
the income of his estates.

A house which she had purchased at Calais was not sufficient for
her purpose; a mansion at Montmartre, near Paris, was fixed on,
and the purchase of it was negotiated in as short a time as the
Countess could desire. This house being in a ruinous condition a
lawsuit was brought by her. Going to St Petersburg, she turned
brandy-distiller, but returned to Paris before the lawsuit was
settled. The possession of such a place, however, was not
sufficient for the Countess, and she proceeded to make a second
purchase of a house, built upon a scale of infinite grandeur.
The brother of the existing French king was the owner of a
domain suited in every respect for the residence of a person of
such nobility, and the Countess determined to become its
mistress. It was called the territory of St Assise, and was
situated at a pleasant distance from Paris, abounding in game of
all descriptions, and rich in all the luxuriant embellishments
of nature. The mansion was of a size which rendered it fit for
the occupation of a king: it contained three hundred beds. The
value of such an estate was too considerable to be expected in
one payment; she therefore agreed to discharge the whole of the
sum demanded, which was fifty-five thousand pounds, by
instalments. The purchase on the part of the Countess was a good
one. It afforded not only game, but rabbits in plenty; and,
finding them of superior quality and flavour, her ladyship,
during the first week of her possession, had as many killed and
sold as brought her three hundred guineas. At St Petersburg she
had been a distiller of brandy; and now at Paris she turned
rabbit-merchant.

Such was her situation when one day, while she was at dinner,
her servants received the intelligence that judgment respecting
the house near Paris had been awarded against her, the sudden
communication of the news produced an agitation of her whole
frame. She flew into a violent passion, and burst an internal
blood vessel. She walked a little about her room, and afterwards
said: "I will lie down on the couch; I can sleep, and after that
I shall be entirely recovered." She seated herself on the couch,
a female having hold of each hand. In this situation she soon
appeared to have fallen into a sound sleep, until the women felt
her hands colder than ordinary, and she was found to have
expired. She died on the 26th of August, 1796.



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 e
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.



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.



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.



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.




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!






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.


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 with
you.'

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 the letter by Lord
Baltimore), conveyed the young lady to Sir John Fielding, before
whom she swore to the actual commission of the rape by 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
shall 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.'--





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 500L. and sentenced to two years imprisonment in the King's
Bench prison; and for The Essay on Woman, 500L. 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.


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.



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.



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.



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.


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.





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, that
persons 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!



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.



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.



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.




PETER M'CLOUD
Hanged for Housebreaking, on 27th of May, 1771, before lie 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.



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 steal ing
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.



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.



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
 L.100
An alderman's
wife's gold chain
 L.80
Several pieces of
plate
 L.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
 L.40
In old crown-
pieces, about
L.15
Two gold snuff-
boxes
L.20
A brilliant
breast-buckle
L.25
A diamond
hoop-ring
L.20
A pair of
valuable
Morocco studs
L.10
A pair of cluster-
stone buttons
L.10
And other
articles, at a
small
computation
L.30
Total
L.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.



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
he 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 for
detaining 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.



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 mathe- matics, 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.



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 Belleisle; 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.




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 Graysinn-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 Bacehus 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.



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.



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.




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 h 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.




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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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, be 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.




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.



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.


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.



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 L5,000 and
offered a bond for L.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 L.4,000 on the first application, which they honestly
repaid before the money became due; afterwards L.6,000 and then
L.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 L.100 upon
the security of a forged bond for L.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 disagreement
with her husband, they resolved to part; that she made a reserve of
money, jewels, and effects, to the amount of L.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 L.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 L.1,400 having made a purchase in
Suffolk or Norfolk to the amount of L.12,000. He said he had a
house in Harley Street, Cavcndish-square, which cost L.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 L.5,000 on
the bond, out of which he would pay the L.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 L.6,000
and the other to himself (Robert) for L.5,300; that for L.5,300 on
which he lent him L.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 L.2,400 a year for his houshold expences,
and L.600 a year for Mrs Rudd's pin-money. That Mr Daniel
Perreau purchased a house in Harley Street for L.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 L.70,000,
and had purchased a house in Pall Mall at L.7,000, in which to
carry on the banking business, and therefore could not spare the
L.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
L.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 L.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 L.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 croud 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.



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 L.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 L.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 L.4,000 on the bond in question, and that
he had given him a draught for L.3,890, deducting the discount of
L.5,000 formerly lent, with the discount of the money then
borrowed, and L.15 10s. for a lottery ticket: that he had since
received, among other things, jewels to the value of L.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.



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.



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 thc
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 com- bustibles. 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 the
windows 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 dock-
yards 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.



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.



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.



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, 177, 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.



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
1000l. 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. Re turning 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 4200l. 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 4000l., 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 4000l. 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 500l. each, making 3000l. and he drew on
his hanker for 500l. more. The broker then returned 100l. and
the doctor gave a second draft on his banker for 200l., and a
judgment on his goods for the remaining 400l. 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 300l. 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 I " 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 t9 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.'



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.



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.



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.


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 be 
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.



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.



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."



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.



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.

Thejury did not hesitate, to give a verdict that the prisoner
was not guilty.



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.



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.




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.



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
gown. 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!



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.  


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.


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 first 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, he 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 accompanied 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 examination of witnesses to support the charge against
me, had I not thought that the pleading guilty to the indictment
gave an indication of contemning death, not suitable to my present
condition, and was, in some measure, being accessory to a second
peril of my life; and I 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 complete, I protest, with that
regard to truth which becomes my situation, that the will to destroy
her, who was ever dearer to me than 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 brother-in-
law after my decease, will have its due weight, as to this point,
with good men.

"Before this dreadful act, I trust nothing will be found in
the tenor of my life which the common charity of mankind will not
excuse. I have no wish to avoid the punishment which the laws of
my country appoint for my crime; but, being already too unhappy
to feel a punishment in death or a satisfaction in life, I submit
myself with penitence and patience to the disposal and judgment of
Almighty God, and to the consequences of this inquiry into my
conduct and intention."

Then was read the following letter:-

My DEAR FREDERICand 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 Wednes day,
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
examina
tion 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 bhe 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.



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.


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.





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.



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 500L. 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 threaten ing 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.



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.



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.



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 stil1 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.



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.



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.


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.



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.



HENRY STERNE
Commonly called "Gentleman Harry." Convicted of stealing the
Duke of Beaufort's Pendant, 1787

THIS man was styled "A Gentleman Thief." He dresed
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.



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.



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 con victed, 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.



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.



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 jack-
asses, 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?"



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.



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:--
L10, 10s                           	                                       No. 25.
                                                  	     RICHMOND, SURREY, 22nd, April 1790.
   Fourteen days after date, please to pay Mr William Smith,  or
order, ten pounds ten shillings, value received, as advised.
                                                        	 CHARLES THOMAS.
To Messrs HANKEYS,
   Bankers, London,
                                             	   Accepted for Self & Co.
                                             	 JOSEPH CHAPMAN HANKEY.
Endorsed, WILLIAM SMITH.
                  WILLIAM MILLER,


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.



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.



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
evidence 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 200L. and
two sureties in 100L. 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.



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.



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."



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
to 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.



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 con- fession, so
that the villains might have been apprehended.

They were executed at Newgate, the 6th of July, 1791,
apparently insensible of their dreadful situation.



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. Joseph Lorrison



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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 Lhe 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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



JOSEPH HODGES AND RICHARD PROB1N
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.



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.



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.



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; for
Clench, 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.



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.



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.



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 10L. 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 ahd
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.



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.



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.



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.